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tomtenadia · 3 years

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A Little Braver - Chapter 12

Here we go. As promised i did not keep you waiting too long and chapter 12 has finally landed by gentle concession of Whitethorn airlines.

Be ready for angst, fluff and our Rowan in full fuss mode. I swear the man invented fussing. Also, our Iceman this time loses it. Even Fenrys is shocked by how much.

EDIt: forgot to say ATC is Air Traffic Control.

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Rowan had finished his class and went back to his office. He had given those spoiled brats a very intense training and he had taught them how a real pilot flew and was quite satisfied of his level of evilness.

He sat at his desk, grabbed his phone and noticed a text from Aelin and a smile tugged at his lips.

Not even two hours back. Crash at the airport. I guess those civilian pilots are as bad as you claim.

He laughed to start with but then terror took him. He switched on the computer and tried to find some news about Orynth. He found a newspaper and read the breaking news. There was a video taken by probably some reporters on an helicopter and he almost fell sick at the images. The article mentioned two aircrafts but he could see only one. He had a bad feeling of what could have happened. The crew zoomed in and he spotted Aelin’s engines but he could not tell apart who was on the ground. Then he saw it. The collapse. A cloud of dust and fire lifted in the sky and he hoped that none of the guys were inside.

His heart raced and pure undiluted terror as he never felt, spread through him.

Once inside Aedion had to navigate through debris and remains of the collapsed structure. The dust raised by the collapse had somehow reduced the fire and he could see around him.

“Aelin,” he called out. He walked and walked and he knew he was getting further and further from the entrance.

“Aelin… answer me, damn it.” He shouted over the silence. A few electric cables flew over him and he ducked just in time to avoid electrocution.

Then he heard it. Her PASS alarm. The one that activated when it did not sense motion for a certain amount of time. He hated that sound because it meant that one of them was in danger.

Eventually he saw her body and flames too close for comfort.

“Chief, lieutenant. I have her. Have EMTs on standby.” he shouted over the radio.

“Lieutenant, Chief, we have two water lines coming in now.”

He ran to her and fell to his knees working to clear the debris from on top of her and once free he rolled her over and noticed she was not breathing and not wearing her mask which lay abandoned at her side. His finger went to her neck and found a pulse albeit weak “She is not breathing, I need the medical team inside. Now.” He shouted over the radio with panic thick in his voice.

He gave her a few rescue breaths “please… please… don’t do this to me. Please, Aelin.”

He put his mask on her face, trying to pass some oxygen to her.

Voices broke the silence but he was too busy helping Aelin to bother to look who it was.

In a moment the rest of the team had followed inside and they were putting off the remaining fire around them, allowing the medical team to do their jobs safely.

Lysandra was on her knees in an instant. Elide was at his side and Dorian was towering over them he was the one who had taken the two women inside.

“She is not breathing and her pulse is weak.” Said Aedion, his voice cracking “Help her, please.”

Lysandra did some checks with experienced efficiency.

“I need to intubate her, Aedion remove the mask when I tell you so.”

Lysandra got ready with all her gear “now.”

With the skills of someone who had done it a million times she intubated Aelin very quickly and Elide started to press the balloon to send air in her lungs and oxygen to her body. Lysandra did a quick check and noticed her right arm bore some bad burn marks. She wrapped the wound as best as she could with temporary bandages.

“Dorian, pass me the backboard.”

Within minutes Aelin was loaded on the board and carried outside. The remaining team stopped, staring at their captain unconscious.

Rowan was following the livestream of the accident when he noticed Dorian’s holding a board with someone on and on the other side a tall blonde man: Aedion. He looked a bit better and his heart sank. His eyes recognised the body on the gurney. Her blonde hair, her long braid.

All of a sudden he forgot how to breath. He just stood there watching as the gurney that carried her was lifted into the ambulance. Aedion jumped in as well and he saw Lysandra and Elide climb in the ambulance and drive away with crazy speed and sirens wailing.

He stood slowly, as in a daze, grabbed his stuff and left. He went home, packed all his belongings and drove back to the base. As quickly as possible he filed a flight plan and not long after he was in the air. He would explain everything to the school commandant but he had to go. He had to be with her.

The flight back to Orynth seemed to last forever. He swore loudly when on approach to Orynth he was told that the airspace above the city was closed. He was furious, the airbase was so far away from the airport that it was stupid.

“Orynth main, Typhoon FF9762, I am requesting clearance for landing at the airbase, not at your stupid airport. So you let me land this plane or when I ran low on fuel I will land in the middle of the motorway and then you can deal with that.”

A moment later he got clearance for landing and when his landing gear touched down on the runaway he quickly taxied inside the hangar.

When he opened the canopy, Lorcan was there waiting for him “don’t. I don’t fucking care about the school or anything else right now.” He grabbed his bag and quickly told his engineer to perform his post flight checks. It was totally against the rules but he had no time to lose.

“Elide texted me. They took her to Orynth general. It was the closest one. She says it’s bad.”

Rowan ran out of the hangar and to his car not even bothering to change out of his jump suit, threw his stuff in the back seat and drove like a madman to the hospital. Once inside the A&E he spotted some familiar faces. Her squad was all there, waiting for an update. Rowan stopped. Then his gaze crossed Aedion’s. The man walked to him and Rowan was sure he had been crying.

“How is she? Where is she?” His voice was shaky.

“We don’t know. They took her in urgently. When I found her, she was not breathing and her oxygen tank was dead. She was unconscious when we brought her in, and with some horrible burns on her right arm.”

Rowan sat down heavily on a chair, his hands shaking visibly. They had just found each other. He could not lose her.

“I thought you were in Doranelle.” Aedion’s voice was flat and his eyes fixed on the doors where they had taken Aelin.

“Aelin sent me a text saying you guys had a call at the airport.” His hand ran nervously through his short hair “then I checked the news and there was a livestream of the accident. And I saw it. All. And when I saw you and Dorian carrying her out… I left everything and flew here with my jet. Bloody ATC almost prevented me from landing.”

“This is always the worst part.” Said Aedion sitting beside Rowan “the waiting.”

The whole group remained in silence and Rowan did the same until a doctor went to them and Aedion stood, followed by Dorian.

“I have an update on the captain. Her condition is critical. She suffered serious internal injuries from the collapse and they are being treated now. Her right arm has some severe burns and again they are now being treated to avoid infection. Her oxygen levels are still below the normal parameters. During surgery she has coded twice, but we got her back. As soon as the team is done with her we will move her to the ICU. We need to keep her under strict control. She could still develop acute respiratory syndrome. She will stay intubated and heavily sedated.” Then the doctor turned to Aedion “I will let you know when you can see her.” And with that he walked away.

“Everyone, return to the station. We are still on duty.” Aedion ordered his men. They gave him a hug and asked to keep them posted. He knew that it had been very hard for them to obey him. They all wanted to be there for her but slowly they filed out leaving him alone with Rowan.

Dorian patted his shoulder “I will stay with them at the station.” And he left with the rest of the squad.

“The scene at the airport seemed terrifying.”

“It was,” said Aedion in a flat tone “the small plane got reduced to smithereens. How the fuck that happened?”

Rowan sighed, he had an idea “possibly a mistake by ATC. They probably directed the smaller aircraft on the wrong runaway and the big plane landed and just crashed on it, then lost control, probably lost its landing gear and just slammed into the hangar bay.”

“How do you know?”

“Watching the live of the news. You could see that the bigger aircraft was on a landing trajectory from its heading. Also, it was on the runaway that Orynth airport uses for landing. The smaller craft was totally in the wrong runaway.”

“Well, it was a mess.”

“Did you manage to save anyone?”

Aedion nodded “all the people in the big aircraft. As soon as we arrived Aelin told us to keep an eye on the wings for fuel. The aircraft exploded but not before we managed to evacuate the passengers. Manon and Asterin saved two of the civilians by hiding in the cockpit.” He sighed “Aelin saved four.”

Rowan chuckled “she took two of my books one on flight theory and the one on airplanes in general.”

“That is why she knew about fuel being in the wings.”

Rowan nodded with pride “Aelin and I… we are working on things. On us. I…” he lowered his head “I care about her… a lot.”

Aedion leaned back on the chair and removed his fire jacket, remaining in his t-shirt “she can be difficult and believe me there is no one but me who knows just how much. I grew up with her. She is my cousin after all, but I always loved her like a sister. But Aelin has the bad habit of saying what she thinks and we had so many fights because of that. She can be a brat, but together with Lys they are the two most important women in my life.”

Rowan smiled briefly at Aedion’s description of Aelin. It was perfect.

“I proposed to Lys.” Confessed the blonde man.

Rowan slapped him hard on the shoulder “that is an incredible news. Congratulation, man.”

“I thought it was time. Lys and I have been together for three years and I love her.”

Rowan was about to add something when they saw the doctor approach them.

“Aedion, you can see her now.” The man stood and gestured to Rowan to follow him.

“Family only.” Said the doctor when he noticed Rowan stand.

“He is coming as well, Sorscha. And if anyone has any problems, they can take it up with me.”

The woman lifted her hands in yielding gesture “She is on the sixth floor in the ICU, room 46.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you all this friendly with doctors?”

“We visit hospitals a lot.” He added sadly.

Aedion walked to the stairs and Rowan chuckled “not you too…”

“What?”

“What’s with you guys and lifts?”

Aedion laughed “you posh boy can take the metal trap. I am walking.”

Rowan huffed and followed Aedion up the stairs. He was not letting an army guy beat him. He had pride.

Rowan pushed to keep up with Aedion and by the time they reached the sixth floor his legs were killing him, the man in front of him had kept a brutal pace, probably on purpose.

In silence they reached the room and Rowan pulled aside “you go in first, you are family.”

Aedion nodded and Rowan sat down on the chairs outside the room. Thing was… he needed time. He was scared of what he would see on the other side of the door. He was terrified. She was the one with the scary job. He was the one who knew how to fly away from danger and avoid being shot out of the sky. She, on the other hand, she would willingly face a fire to save people. Getting involved with her meant going through the hell he was living now. He fought it for as long as he could. But somehow along the way he had fallen for her pretty badly. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall.

Much later on he felt a hand on his shoulder “you can go in now.”

Rowan turned his head to the door and his heart sank. Then he stood and mustered all the courage he had to open the door and step in.

The room was silent apart from the steady beeping sounds of the machines monitoring her heartbeat and the hush sound of the ventilator pumping air in her lungs. He froze and closed the door behind him. He stared at her immobile body. With all the cables and tubes and machinery, she seemed so small in the hospital bed.

He finally took a step closer and sat down on the chair beside her.

“Hi,” his voice broken as he felt tears streak down his cheek. Gently he brushed the tip of the fingers on her right hand and noticed the heavy bandaging on the whole arm.

“You scared the shit out of me.” He whispered, his head leaning on the bed near her hand “A part of me wants to bolt because I am not sure I can take it. But the other side tells me not to. Tells me that the recklessness, you fierceness and bravery are why I am so damn crazy about you.” He stood and paced back and forth “the idea of losing you paralyses me with fear.” He took a step backward with fear gripping his heart “I can’t do this. I am so sorry. I just can’t.”

He ran out of the door but Aedion blocked him “that was quick.”

“I can’t…”

Aedion’s face morphed into pure rage and grabbed Rowan’s jump suit by the collar “oh yes you can. I told you before, posh boy. You break her heart and I break you.”

Rowan collapsed exhausted on the chair and took his head in his hands “I can’t… I can’t go through that hell a second time.”

“What to you mean?” Asked the blonde man.

Rowan looked up and met Aedion’s eyes. So much like Aelin’s. They could have easily been twins.

“The pain…” he paused “I can’t deal with that pain again. Losing Aelin would break me definitely. And at the same time I can’t leave her for the same reason. I need her in my life. She might be infuriating but at the same time I am mad about her.”

“Then you have your answer.” Said Aedion flatly.

Rowan stood and Aedion placed his body in front of him.

“I am not bolting. I need to go home, shower, clear my head and I will be back.”

“You bolt, and I will find you.”

Rowan raised his hands and walked away in silence.

He got home, dumped his bag near the bed and shed his clothes on his way to the bathroom. Opened the water and dove under the jet, the water hot to the point of being painful. He stood there. Eyes closed and head bowed. Realising that the water would not be able to wash away the shame of him almost walking out on her like a coward. Again. He was not as brave as he thought. When it came to his feelings he was a disaster. But there was deep terror in him, to a level that he never experienced not even with a missile trained on him. He had almost lost her and at the thought he struggled to breath for a moment. He leaned against the wall and allowed the tears to flow, he allowed himself to cry and let his fears go for a moment. He could not believe that in a matter of few months she had become so important that the thought of losing her would break him this much. He breathed deeply and tried to regain some focus.

Quickly, he washed himself and then walked out with a towel around his waist and padded to the bed to grab his phone. He called the commandant of the school in Doranelle and explained him what happened, why he had to leave all of a sudden and most of all why he was not going back. The man was not happy and he was going to catch hell from Lorcan as well but he did not care. He had given up too much of his life to the force. Now it was his turn to be selfish and put his life before duty.

As expected Lorcan called him not long after and he was now on his way to see his CO in nothing but jeans, a polo shirt and a black leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses. If he had to piss off Lorcan better do it properly.

He knocked once in front of his door and the grumpy tone of the man of the other side told him to enter. He saluted lazily and definitely did not miss Lorcan’s stare of disapproval at him appearing in front of his CO in civilian clothes.

“You seem to have misplaced your uniform.”

“No sir, definitely at home in my wardrobe.”

Lorcan growled his disapproval “I got an interesting call from the commandant of the school in Doranelle. He says that you resigned your post. That you have no intention of going back.”

“That is correct,” and Rowan sat down although Lorcan did not give him permission to do so.

Lorcan threw a folder on his desk “and I got a complaint from ATC saying that you breached airspace lockdown last night and threatened to land on a motorway if they didn’t let you land.”

“That was bullshit on their part. The airbase is on the opposite side of the city compared to the airport. There was no risk for me to get anywhere close to the airport. They were aware of my flight plan and my heading. It was total bullshit.”

“Well, now I have to deal with an irate traffic control supervisor and an outraged commandant at a school with which we have been cooperating for years.”

Rowan shrugged in challenge “not my problem.”

“No Whitethorn, you are the fucking problem.”

“Then suspend me, like I give a fuck.” Rowan leaned back in the chair and stared outside ignoring Lorcan’s tantrum.

“You broke aviation rules with that stunt of yours last night and before that you put your personal life before duty.”

Rowan bolted on his feet “I am so fucking tired of sacrificing my life for duty. I did it so much that when my wife died I was on the other side of the continent and I was given a couple of days of leave to go to her funeral and then was ordered to haul ass back to my post as if nothing happened and like the good obedient soldier I was, I even thanked you all for giving me two days to mourn.” He shouted, not caring if he was being disrespectful to a superior “I gave the airforce twelve years of my life, no questions asked. And all of a sudden I am not sure if I want to keep doing it.”

“Is she really worth it? Is that woman really worth giving up on your career?”

Rowan moved dangerously close and leaned on the desk with his hands “she is worth more that you cold-hearted bastard can ever imagine.”

Lorcan stood “get your arse out of my office, captain Whitethorn. You are suspended for a month.”

“Good.” Said Rowan and walked out slamming the door not bothering saluting Lorcan or add anything.

On his way out he met his squadron “what are you doing back in Orynth?” Asked Gavriel surprised.

“Getting my arse suspended for a month apparently.”

“What the fuck?” Fenrys stared at him in disbelief. That was something that he would do. He could not believe that Lorcan had just suspended Rowan. The man was a stickler for protocol and rules to a fault.

“Broke aviation rules last night by landing during an airspace lockdown. Ticked off ATC big time. And before that I left my post in Doranelle without telling anything to anyone.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Iceman?” Asked Connall.

“Aelin.” Was his answer “she was at the disaster at the airport last night. She is in bad condition. I had to come back.” He sighed “then Lorcan gave me a dressing down for putting a woman before duty and I might have pissed him off to historical levels. I would stay clear of him today.”

“And he suspended you.”

“Yes,” confirmed Rowan and the rest of the team almost noticed relief in his eyes.

“But you are coming back, right?” Rowan noticed sadness in Gavriel’s eyes. The two had been friends for a long time. And although he could not care less about Lorcan, he felt as if he was betraying his team mates.

“I don’t know… I might.” He said not convinced “A month away might do me well. I am not sure right now.”

“How’s Aelin?” Vaughan had the guts to ask the question no one could voice.

Rowan’s hands fisted “she is in bad shape. Intubated and sedated. When Aedion found her she was not breathing. She has bad burn on her right arm and plenty of other injuries. She was buried under the collapse of the hangar after she tried to save some people trapped inside.”

“Damn, the woman is badass.” Fenrys patted Rowan’s shoulder “when you go to the hospital, tell her that we are rooting for her too.”

He covered the young man’s hand with his “will do.” Then he straightened “now I better go, before Lorcan comes through and punishes all of you just for speaking with me.”

“Keep in touch, please,” added Gavriel.

Rowan winked and left and once he finally stepped outside of the perimeter of the airbase his soul felt lighter.

He reached the hospital not long after and found her room empty, her team was probably at work and he was glad he could have some time with her.

“Hi menace,” Rowan sat down and brushed a kiss on her forehead “are you enjoying your nap?” His finger gently flicked her nose and he sat back down “I got suspended for a month… I guess I broke a few rules to be with you.” His finger brushed hers emerging from the heavy bandage “and I epically ticked off a few people, but it was so worth it.” He squeezed her fingers “you are totally worth it.” He then stood and started walking around the room making adjustments. He fixed the blinds so there was some sun in the room, he tucked her properly in bed, almost afraid she could be cold. He fixed the flowers on her nightstand and made sure they had water. And finally he sat down on her bed and slowly undid her braid, brushed her hair and braided it again.

“I am sorry I left this morning, I… was overwhelmed.” He sat back down on the chair “I am not leaving. Not unless you want me to.” He grabbed her hand again but then he heard the door open and he sat straight.

“Hi,” said Lysandra and Elide in unison.

“We just dropped off some patients and we came in to see her.”

Rowan stood and with his hand he offered his spot to the two women.

“I thought you were away.” Said Lysandra, walking close to her friend and depositing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I was, and then I saw the disaster and I flew back and got myself suspended for it, but I don’t care.”

Lysandra was about to comment but he stopped her “I had to be here for her. I have no regrets.” His head then turned to Elide “you might want to stay clear of Lorcan for a few days. I ticked him off big time and the man might be a bit furious at the time.”

“Oh, okay,” the woman said timidly.

“I am sure that one of your smile will fix the mood of that poor old bastard.” Lysandra’s comment made him laugh.

“She just went in…” Lysandra’s voice was now a whisper and she sniffled turning her back from the other two occupants “she always does this type of crazy thing. Dorian was furious.”

A memory appeared in Rowan’s mind and his words were out before he could stop them “are they involved?”

He heard the woman chuckle “No. Dorian is in love with her and that is no secret. He was her captain when she was at west. But she always saw him as nothing but a friend. Also he is the chief and she a captain, so nothing can happen. They are really good friends, but no, nothing ever happened.”

A selfish part of him relaxed.

Lysandra’s radio went off and she groaned “come on Elide, back to work.”

Rowan waved them goodbye and went back to his chair.

***

Ten days had passed and the season had slowly turned and spring was now in full force.

Rowan was standing at the hospital window, looking outside towards the Staghorn mountains. The tops had officially lost their snow. He inhaled the fresh air and closed the window again. That room had become his new home in the past ten days. He had left only to go home and get changed and washed, but apart from that he had kept a tight vigil on her. They guys at the station had to work and he had been more than happy to keep her company. He was out of a job for the time being, anyway. He turned around and walked to the bed. Nothing had changed. She was still intubated and still unconscious. The doctor had raised concerns with regards to the damage her lungs had suffered and a neurologist had confirmed that her responses were within normal parameters and that they were expecting her to wake up soon. In the last few days they had noticed an increased cerebral activity which according to the doctors was a good sign. He sat down again beside her and went back to the book he had been reading to her. As a joke between the two of them he had started reading flight manuals, or any of any of his books about flying. He had read her other books as well and all the possible articles about their amazing rescue at the airport. Rowan had spent so much time at the hospital that all the nurses knew him and helped him every time he had a request for them to make her more comfortable. He had brought more comfortable pillows, had decorated the wall of her room with all the cards she got from the different fire stations and from west, together with the ones of the four people she save in the hangar. With his mobile he had played classical music for her and a few times he had played an opera as well and joked that they finally got that date after all. His past ten days had been dedicated to nothing else but her. He was humming away a tune from the last opera he had played, while tucking her bed sheets properly when he brushed her hand and felt it move. It was a subtle movement but he felt it. Rowan kept humming and this time the motion was much clearer.

“Aelin…” her middle finger lifted by a fraction and Rowan laughed.

“Are you giving me the middle finger even when you sleep? You are such a brat.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead “Can you hear me?” He whispered near her ear.

His gaze returned to her hand and this time he noticed her clearly trying to bend her fingers.

Rowan sat down beside her and stroked her cheek once more “Aelin… it’s me.”

A tiny flutter of her eyelashes had his heart race madly in his chest. And when her blue eyes finally set on him he gave her a big smile “it was abut time, there was no need to get into a fire and almost get yourself killed if you needed a nap.”

Aelin groaned and he noticed the middle finger in her left hand rise sightly. Rowan roared in laughter. Then she lifted the same hand and went for the tube in her mouth.

“Hold on, you are still intubated. Let me go and call the doctor.” He disappeared outside of the room and came back with her doctor a moment later. He extubated her and the procedure looked very unpleasant. Aelin coughed heavily but the doctor reassured him it was normal and then left the two alone.

Rowan grabbed a glass of water on the nightstand and helped her. He lifted her a bit and pressed the glass against her lips “drink a little.”

She drank eagerly and then collapsed back on the pillow exhausted. Rowan sat at her left side and brushed her head gently with his hand “are you in pain?”

With a small movement she shook her head. Rowan looked at the bags with liquids hanging behind her and noticed they still had plenty of stuff in them. She was hooked on painkillers and antibiotics and had a feeding tube down her nose.

“You… here.” She managed with difficulty. Although she was breathing on her own the doctor had warned him that some issues might take longer to heal. The smoke and the fuel fumes had battered her lungs pretty badly and that it was why after extubation, the doctor had placed small oxygen tubes in her nose.

“That I am.” he took her hand in his “after your text complaining about civilian pilots I had a look at the news and they were showing the inferno at the airport.” He stopped, he would never forget that horrible scene “when I saw Dorian and Aedion carrying you out I realised I could not stay there any longer. Long story short, I broke a few rules, pissed off a few people and got suspended, but I am where I am meant to be.”

“Suspended?”

Rowan nodded solemnly “Turns out that even if he has a girlfriend, Lorcan is still a cold-hearted bastard. I have no regrets.”

Aelin sighed and her breath came out ragged “squad.”

“They are all fine and they miss you. Aedion has been playing captain and he hates it and Dorian has been helping a lot as well. They are on shift now but they came and visit a lot.”

She was about to say something else but a brutal cough hit her and she was left exhausted and wheezing and he pulled her to him. It destroyed him seeing her like that.

He shifted the pillows behind her and allowed Aelin to be in a semi sit position, hoping that would make breathing much easier than lying down. He sat beside her, pulled an arm around her shoulder and dragged her closer to him “Aedion proposed to Lys.”

“Know.”

“There is no pleasing you, young lady. I assume Lys has told you.”

Aelin smiled at him and nodded.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and when he removed it he realised it was Lorcan. The man had tried to phone him all morning but he had refused every single call.

Rowan sighed heavily and Aelin looked up at him with a worried expression.

“I almost resigned.” His forehead touching hers “then I didn’t because of duty and all that shit. When they carried you out I lost it. Nothing else mattered but being here for you. Screw rules and regulations.”

She turned her head and deposited a kiss on his lips “thank you for being here.” She managed with great difficulty.

***

With spring in full swing, Orynth was covered in colours from flowers all around the city. The air smelled sweet and warm.

Aelin inhaled the fresh air and after almost a month in the hospital she felt alive again. Rowan lifted her in his arms and slowly carried her to her house. Her legs were still shaky and she was still weak. Her recovery was taking longer than expected. The doctors had put her through a respiratory therapy, but at times she still felt short of breath. Rowan dropped her off on the sofa and went to get their stuff. He had made a deal with her and he would stay with her until she was better. He still had four days before his suspension was over. He had been at her side since she woke up and the nurses had told her that even when she was still unconscious, Rowan had barely left her side.

Her mind went back to when he told her he could be very caring for the people he loved and he had showed her that over and over again.

“Here we go.” He dumped all the bags in the living room and then went to the bedroom and Aelin had a feeling he was preparing so that it was up to his standards.

“The bed is ready, your highness.”

He fussed. He fussed a lot but she realised she had started to love that side of him.

“Does it meet your standards, captain?”

He grinned “I don’t think is grandiose enough.”

“I will make sure I’ll upgrade my living standards to accommodate a posh boy like yourself. I doubt an army guy will fuss. Aedion never did.”

“They have no standards to begin with.”

Aelin threw a pillow at him but Rowan ducked in time and an instant later she was in the air and he dumped her on the bed with little ceremony.

He leaned forward and kissed her “now get changed,” he ordered and threw her her bed clothes.

“Yes, sir. At your orders sir,” she mocked him with a funny salute.

He shook his head “you civilians really have no respect for rank.”

She stood on her knees in bed and shed the top she was wearing and removed her bra as well, remaining bare.

He was busy emptying her bag that when he turned and saw her semi naked he almost tripped on the dropped top.

“My girls here feel lonely,” she palmed her breasts in a very sensual way

Rowan ignored her and passed her the pyjama top “It seems like you are doing a good job at keeping them busy.”

She slapped him with her t-shirt and got dressed again “I’d better get covered again, I don’t want to traumatise you.” She was about to add something else but a fit of coughing stopped her. Rowan was at her side in a moment and held her, knowing that it would usually leave her spent. The fits had become less frequent as she improved but the occasional one was enough to leave her breathless and this one seemed to be one of those. She grabbed his arm and squeezed it “hurts,”Aelin complained fisting her hand in his chest while concentrating on breathing. Rowan grabbed the inhaler she had been prescribed to use during an attack. She did as she had been shown by the doctors and then melted in his arms.

“Lie down.”

“Open…” she started but the coughing resumed and her hand fisted in the bed sheets this time. She grabbed the inhaler and breathed its medicines again, feeling air rushing back in her lungs. Eventually she collapsed in bed exhausted “Window…” she finally finished.

Rowan moved with speed and did as told. Aelin loved the spring air and even at the hospital she often asked him for the window to be open. It made her feel as if she could breath.

He moved her to the centre of the bed and covered with the blankets “do you feel like eating something?”

“No,” she said weakly and he knew she was not well. In the short time he had known her, Aelin had never refused a meal “Sleep,” his hand brushed her hair and she was asleep within minutes.

Once he was positive she was asleep he walked out and gently closed the door and went to the kitchen to make a phone call. Lorcan had been pestering him almost every day but Rowan had ignored him.

“The dutiful captain finally decides to phone back, or should I call you nurse Whitethorn now?”

Rowan growled and almost closed the call again, then decided to count till ten and listen what he had to say.

“Say your piece Salvaterre and let me go.”

“I want you to march back through these doors in four days.”

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. How could he leave her alone?

“A please from time to time doesn’t hurt.”

“Whitethorn, I don’t give a fuck if your firefighter woman made you a well mannered soldier. I am your superior and if I give you an order I expect you to answer with yes, sir. Another peep from you and you get your arse written up for insubordination and you can kiss your career goodbye.”

Rowan had to punch something, but a loud noise could wake up Aelin and he wanted to avoid that. So he just hung up the phone without giving Lorcan a reply then he grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. Once he was done he grabbed his laptop from his bag and set in motion his next plan.

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp

@jlinez

@swankii-art-teacher

@courtofjurdan

@whimsicallyreading

@tillyrubes10

#rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aedion x lysandra #fanfic #Throne of Glass series

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hesgunnalovethis · 3 years

Text

Greenhouse Planet

Prompt : ( ty @write-it-motherfuckers )

“How the hell are you still alive?”

“Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are”

Leonard x Reader

Word count: 2755

TW: OC death, blood mention, medbay

A/N: you ever make up your own planet and species? me too apparently.

Greenhouse Planet:

“Jim stand still will you.” You watched as Leonard McCoy struggled through the small gathering in the transporter room completing his pre-mission checks. Usually he liked to be more prepared but with Jim Kirk - the worst patient in the fleet - leading the Enterprise, he had to make exceptions.

“Bones, please, I had a check-up last month.” Kirk said punching co-ordinates into the control desk, much to Scotty’s dismay.

“You had 6 broken bones that month, Jim.”

“Yeh and I’m sure they’ve healed.”

You watched Lee’s face curl looking at the results of the little readings he’d gathered from Jim before admitting defeat and sliding his tricorder back into his pocket.

You followed the others onto the transporter platform ready to face whatever was waiting planetside when you felt familiar hands wrap round your waist. Instinctively, you let yourself relax into the curves of your partner. Every inch of you belonged together, bodies fitting seamlessly.

“You don’t have to come, Y/N” Leonard rumbled softly into your ear, sending a shiver down your back.

You wrapped your hand around his, turning to look into his incomparable blue eyes and throwing a playful look over his lips “Good to know you still worry about me even after all these years.”

“Worry? Me? Never.” Leonard scoffed, “It’s just, part of me just thinks you’re too pretty to be doing this kind of dirty work”

“Maybe you can make it up to me later?” You said running your hand up his arm to rest on his bicep. An intimate moment positively overlooked by the rush of the room.

“You know I hate talking about ‘later’ before this kind of thing.” Leonard sighed more to himself than to you.

You had often spoken about the increasing dangers on recent fieldwork.

“Ah, my Southern pessimist.” You said giving Leonard’s arm a comforting tap.

“One of these days I’m going to be right.” The infamous grumpy doctor persona had returned.

“You’ll never be right, Leonard. Not while I’m around.” You smirked and joined the others settling on the transporter platform.

Leonard followed. You could feel his eyes burning into you while Jim finished conferring with Scotty at the panel. His gaze didn’t budge.

“Okay, Scotty” Jim said taking his place at the front of the crew “Standby.”

***

Once your body had reconfigured itself you were in a jungle like landscape. Surrounded by tall plants you watched as your crewmates looked around equally confused, some picking unidentified green out of their hair and clothes.

Jim addressed the group. “This planet belongs to Bokencams. Bokencams are known for their botany but also for their lack of humanity. That means stay on task, stay out of sight. Starfleet had cultivated a healing plant which was promptly stolen. It’s our job to get it back. I’ll go in to reason with them while Andrews, Clarke and Y/L/N look for a point of entry. These creatures aren’t known for their intellect which means the plant should be easy to locate once inside. Got it?”

Mumbles of assurance rippled through the group.

“Doctor McCoy and Lieutenant Uhura you’ll be here listening in for language and translation. The rest of you cover ground and cover each other. Eyes everywhere and comm anything unusual in.”

Everyone began to prepare for their own tasks: Jim shirt off and wiring himself, the red shirts activating phasers and Bones looking high strung. He pulled Jim aside, “Don’t you think I should be closer in on this action, Jim? I don’t recall anyone else having years of medical training to hand?”

“I need your brains here, Bones.” Jim said clapping his back pointing Leonard towards his portable control panel.

“Come on you three” Jim said pulling his top back over his head, “The sooner we get out of here the better. I hate greens.”

You, Jim and the 2 others began towards the seemingly empty green dome which sat perfectly isolated amongst the greenhouse planet. Getting closer Jim signalled for you all to split off, Clarke taking east, you taking west, Andrews taking south and Jim taking north towards the front door.

The tall plants made it easy to slip into your assigned station unseen and to your surprise the entire building seemed unguarded.

You could see Jim beginning his strut towards the front door of the dome with no attempt to conceal himself. He wanted the attention on him. That was how his plans often went. Very Aries of him.

After all three of you had confirmed your position Jim stepped into the building without any trouble.

The comms were silent.

Getting to work you ran your eyes over the immense building. It stretched for miles each way. You began looking for any entrance. The distinct lack of windows was the first thing to jump out at you. The second was the space between the dome and the moss covered ground giving the building the appearance it was floating.

You waited what seemed like hours with the anticipation but was likely a plethora of minutes before emerging from your cover bolting towards the underneath of the dome.

Drowned in darkness on your hands and knees you dragged your hands across the underneath of the building. The material was nothing like you had felt before. Somewhere between glass and beads.

You crawled through the damp ground for miles every inch of the underneath feeling eerily the same. You were beginning to lose hope when you felt a crack. You froze and ran your hand back over the beaded glass. Definitely a space. You crawled again searching for the same space parallel which could suggest a door.

“Y/L/N come in.” rang from your comm. You ignored it. “McCoy to Y/L/N come in.”

Your hand ran over another definite space. Rolling into the centre of the somewhat door you lifted your feet and hands to the beaded glass and began to push. With very little effort the hatch lifted enough for you to climb inside.

You appeared to be in a lab. Green seemed to cover the entirety of the inside as well. You grabbed your comm, and rang to all ground comms “Y/L/N, stationed West, inside dome. Repeat. This is Y/L/N, stationed West, inside dome. Over.” Leonard’s voice came immediately “I love you. Be careful.” You switched off your comm.

***

Bones knew you’d be the first in. You were good at your job. He just didn’t let himself admit it until he heard the message through the comm. Uhura reached out to squeeze his hand but Leonard pulled away. He would detach and get on with the job. Or try. They listened into Jim’s meeting with the Bokencams,

“You have nothing to collect. It’s property of this planet. Here it can be stored at its optimum.”

“And how have you been storing it exactly?”

Jim was stalling. Giving as much time as possible to those working around the dome. And it could’ve worked.

***

The dome was silent. You couldn’t tell if it was empty or sound proof. You weaved in and out of the green rows scrutinising every plant. One seemed to have stories written on the stems, another with the softest looking leaves you had ever seen. You ran your hand over the soft looking plant which sent a searing cut over your palm. ‘Should’ve seen that one coming’ you thought.

Behind the soft plant was a small glass cube. Inside was the purest green your eyes had ever met. The edges of the leaves appeared whitened as if touched by a December morning. That had to be what you were here for.

You slid the top off of the cube and carefully removed a cultivation of the plant. Unsure how else to test your theory you picked off a leaf and placed it on your tongue. Instantly you gashed hand sealed without a scar. You pressed the plant into your pocket and headed back for the hatch when you saw a green creature sliding through the space you had made. His eyes fixated on you before you had a chance to move. His thick fingers reached towards your arm extending way past where they should’ve. He bound your arms with a vine and marched you out of the lab door.

You couldn’t be sure where he was taking you but you knew it couldn’t be good. The creature had moved you round enough corners to be totally disoriented. Every green wall looked the same and there was no way to retrace your steps back to the hatch.

From the corner of your eye you saw a familiar looking red through a window amongst the green. Your head shot backwards making eye contact with Clarke. So you were east. Good to know.

“Y/N?!” Clarke mouthed through the window.

A segment of wall opened. A disguised door. And Clarke stood phaser pointed, face stern. All around him identical green creatures materialised from walls and ceilings crowding him. The Bokencam guarding you extended his arm into the crowd and released a phaser shot. Several of the green creatures fell backwards. Dead. He shot again and Clarke’s body thudded to the ground.

Your chest tightened enough to double you over. You felt winded. You tried to call his name but nothing came out. Your feet could barely support your weight never mind fight against the direction you were pushed. The creature holding you continued to march not batting an eyelid. He had killed tens of his own for one of you. The lack of humanity brief truly was not a warning. You kept your eyes on Clarke willing the blood to spill back into his body until he was completely out of sight.

***

Bones was barely listening to the conversation anymore. His thoughts were consumed by you. His mind immediately considering the worst possible outcome. Assuring himself he was overthinking he tuned back into the conversation.

“Guess I’ll pack it up then. Thank you for your time.” Jim began to close out the meeting.

“Now that you have wasted our time I think you should be offering some sort of penance. Would you not agree, Captain?” The green creature in front of him snarled back.

“I don’t think that’s necessary at all. I would actually argue that we’re now even.”

“Maybe we could change your mind.”

Bones sat up bracing himself for whatever mess Jim had talked himself into.

“No,” Jim said with no attempt to hide his own panic, “Y/N?”

Bones’ body went stiff.

“Y/N?!” Uhura asked, “Did he just say Y/N?”

Bones picked up his phaser and started towards to dome.

***

“Y/N are you alright?” Jim asked as tears began to fall from your eyes, Clarke’s body falling to the ground replaying over and over in your mind. “Y/N what happened.�� Jim took a few steps towards you as all of the creatures raised their phasers.

“DON’T” you yelled to Jim, “They killed Clarke. They killed him right in front of me. They killed their own to do it.”

You watched as man who didn’t believe in no win scenarios calculated this in his head.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen.” Jim said to the creatures, a clear switch in his persona. “You’re going to hand over Lieutenant Y/L/N to me, right now. We’re going to walk out of that door and return to where our crew is stationed. We’re going to pack up and we’re going to leave.”

“No Captain I think that’s what you want to happen. But let me tell you how it goes here. First-“ The creature was cut off by the sound of doors clambering.

You looked up to see Leonard McCoy - hater of fieldwork - standing in the doorway accompanied by a plethora of red shirts, phasers charged.

“Hand her over. Now.” Bones said stalking towards you.

“Is this all about her?” The creature who had led you through the green corridors said kicking your back, sending your body forward and the leaf which had been resting on your tongue down your throat. Leonard’s face stiffened. “It is isn’t it?” The creature laughed “Well then let me make this very easy for you.”

The world went in slow motion.

Your eyes focussed on Leonard, managing the weakest of smiles as the phaser behind you released and shattered into your side.

The rush of familiar coloured shirts flooded the room you were in. Phasers shot in all directions and your body seized.

You found yourself laying across Leonard’s lap, as if it had always been there. Together you lay as one. Fitting seamlessly.

Leonard fussed over your side speaking words you couldn’t fully understand. You grabbed his working hands in yours.

“Hey,” he said brushing stray hair out of your face “You’re doing really well stay with me. Tell me something. Anything.”

“Maybe you were right.” you whispered looking up at him.

“I’ll never be right, Y/N, not while you’re around.” He placed a bloody hand behind your neck, thumb stroking your jawline.

“Bones!” Jim shouted through the fighting, “Help them!”

But you could see on Leonard’s face, there was nothing he could do.

Leonard pulled you close releasing a gentle sob by your ear.

“I love you too.” You whispered into the darkness

***

Leonard McCoy stood in a private room in his medbay looking at his soulmates cold body. He half heartily picked up the chart which lay on the bedside as he had so many times before. He read over the details as he had so many times before.

‘Lutenient Y/N Y/L/N

Time of death: 15:34

Killed in Action’

He checked his watch.

18:32.

Maybe it was time.

He brushed his hand over your forehead tucking your hair behind your ears. He had no more tears left to spill. He took your hand in his and placed a forceful kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry.” He stated. Not remorseful. Not angrily. Just stated.

His pressed the buzzer by the bed letting the on duty nurses know you were ready to be collected.

A small team arrived flashing sympathetic smiles towards Leonard.

He instinctively started to help until Nurse Chapel put a hand to his chest. “You don’t have to do this bit Leonard.” He nodded his head and stood back as the rest of the nurses wheeled your bed out of the room. “Go home.” She said squeezing his hands and then she left closing the door behind her.

Leonard knew he would still be expected to work. They were too far into deep space to get extra crew. But for now Chapel was right Leonard needed to go home. To his empty quarters you both called home.

Leonard began to cry again. Because now it was over.

He could hear a situation in the corridor. Biobeds going wild. Nurses shouting. But his instincts didn’t kick in until he heard them call out his name.

“DOCTOR MCCOY!” They shouted for the second time as Leonard drew a hand down his face picking up his medical pack and moved into the corridor were you sat upright on the bed.

Leonard was frozen for a minute. Legs stuck to the ground. Then he heard your voice.

“Move! MOVE!” He shouted as he rushed to your side his eyes flickering all over your face and then to the monitors beside you. “How the hell are you still alive?!”

“Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are.” You leaped forward from the bed towards Leonard but he pushed you backwards lifting your top to look at your wound, brows knitted.

“Really, Leonard? You’re really killing the moment here.”

“It’s gone? How the hell is it gone?” He ran his fingers over your side.

You reached your hand into your pocket revealing the greenest plant with the crystallised leaves.

“You FOUND IT?!”

“Believe it or not Leonard I’m not awful at my job.”

“How did that- but how did it work?”

You cast your mind back to Leonard appearing at the dome doors, “I swallowed it. I had one of its leaves in my mouth, I accidentally swallowed it when they pushed me.”

“Sorry, you ATE an unidentified plant you’d JUST found?” Leonard said, disgust covering his face.

“...Yeh.”

“Again. How the HELL are you still alive.” Leonard wrapped his arms around your back lifting you from the bed. You wrapped your legs around his body.

An intimate moment that was positively seen by the room. Neither of you cared. It made sense. Every inch of you belonged together. There you stayed, fitting together seamlessly.

#star trek #star trek fic #Star Trek Fanfiction #star trek imagines #leonard mccoy imagines #leonard mccoy fanfiction #leonard mccoy x reader #bones star trek #bones x reader #doctor mccoy #dr mccoy #mccoy x reader #mccoy

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ficforce · 3 years

Text

A Good Man Part 1

Hinawa Takehisa x Reader SFW No set timeline New relationship

Y/N froze as she heard Hinawa’s voice behind her, it took her a second to take a deep breath and finish tightening the bolt on the Matchbox before turning stiffly to face the man, “I’m nearly done here, then I’ll get right on the maintenance of equipment.” She figured she was taking too long, Vulcan was their engineer but he had been working on a few projects whilst she covered the regular stuff, “I’ll make sure Captain’s equipment is seen to first and then… I’ll be faster, Lieutenant.” He was always so quiet and he looked so serious all the time that she always felt like she was in trouble.

“I brought you some water,” Hinawa held out a bottle for her, “It’s hot today.” He waited for her to take the water and then examined the inside of the engine, she’d done a great job, “You’re doing fine, Y/N. You’re thorough - No ones as quick as Vulcan. Make sure you take a break…” He knew she was a hard worker, he also knew that she became tense whenever he was near and not in the same way as everyone else. She seemed genuinely nervous of him and Hinawa was bothered by that. “If you fall behind then come and get me, I won’t mind helping.”

She nodded, shifting a little as her tenseness began a cramp in her leg, “S-sure…” The Lieutenant headed out and she let out a sigh of relief, stretching her leg to get rid of the cramp - He always made her so nervous.

“Y/N.”

The woman squealed at the voice and nearly jumped out of her skin. Turning around she realised it was just Obi with a bottle of water, he saw that she had one already and placed it on the side for later, “You alright? Did I scare you?” Obi could help but laugh as she crouched down with her hand on her chest, she looked like a startled owl, “I guess Hinawa was here,” he got down to her level and pat her head sympathetically, “You really like him, huh?”

“…No…” It was a lie. Y/N had the biggest crush on the man, he was pretty serious but that’s what she liked most. He seemed kind of scary but in truth, he was a kind man. He had scouted her from Company 3 after seeing her in action, he had said he was impressed with the ways she worked and thought on her feet. She wasn’t powered and that made some of Company 3 look down on her, moving to Company 8 was a no brainer. And with the way Captain Giovanni was, she got out just in time.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with work and missions then I don’t mind,” The Captain gave her a reassuring grin and stood back up, “Hang in there, Y/N”

She gave a smaller sigh and nodded, “Thank you, Captain.”

— -

Somehow she had ended up in the kitchen with Hinawa, they hadn’t spoken other than about food preparation, she sliced the carrots in quick, precise cuts, making short work of them and then started on the spring onions. “You’re very adept at that.” Hinawa had to admit he was impressed with how well she cooked, he realised he needed more ingredients and lightly touched Y/N’s waist as he passed her, it had been an innocent touch purely to let her know he was going to move behind her but her sudden gasp made him pause. The man looked over her shoulder and his eyes widened as he saw blood, “Here,” Hinawa took her wrist and led Y/N to the sink, washing the cut before wrapping a towel around it and applying pressure.

Y/N tensed up as he treated her, if this was her old Company they would be mocking her. Company 8 wasn’t like that, they were kind and it really felt as if they wouldn’t judge her like her old Company. Hajima and Company 3 were heavily affiliated, powerful fire users and engineers made up the bulk of it - she was an engineer and made up the numbers in her squad. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant Hinawa…”

“I startled you, it’s not your fault.” He pulled the towel away to examine the cut, “A bandage should take care of this.” Hinawa’s hand encircled her wrist and he made to pull the sleeve of her orange jumpsuit up. That was when she yanked her hand away and held it close to her chest, cradling it protectively.

“What’s going on?” Maki came into the kitchen and rushed to Y/N when she saw she was bleeding, “We need to wrap that up, come on.” The woman led her out of the kitchen, neither noticing that Hinawa’s eyebrows had drawn together and he looked down at the towel in his hand with a crestfallen expression. Was he really that frightening to her?

He had really admired how she had taken control of the scene a few months ago, she hadn’t been one of the firefighters at the frontline but she had been quick to direct people and had been more compassionate than anyone else in her Company when speaking with the Infernal’s family. She was happy to help Vulcan with maintenance and fixed the smaller things so that the other man could create new equipment for them. She just didn’t like him… at all. She couldn’t even stand for him to touch her.

“…Y/N.”

— -

“Lieutenant!” Y/N yelled and threw him his gun, the mission was getting out of hand and she was trying to help where she could. Captain Obi was knocked out cold, she had been trying to bring him around when the gun had landed close by, the Infernal had gotten close enough to land a hit on the Lieutenant before Arthur had knocked it back. Y/N didn’t check to see if Hinawa had caught it, the shooting was proof enough. “Come on, Captain… get a hold of yourself!” She let out a yell as a fire ignited close by, a spark must have landed in the spilt engine oil, “Obi! Wake up!” The fire crept toward them and Y/N began to panic, she smacked Obi’s cheek and yelled his name, “Damn it!” The woman grabbed his arm and began to drag him away from the flames - He was so heavy!

She ran for the Matchbox a few yards away and pulled out an extinguisher, aiming it at the fire she let loose to douse it. It didn’t seem to help as it spread further and was soon lapping at her feet, the heat could be felt through her uniform and she stumbled backwards, trying to get away from it. Y/N fell on her ass and scrabbled backwards - it was too close! She needed to get Obi away from there but she was glued to the spot, her muscles had seized and her throat felt as if it had closed up. The loud hiss of the extinguisher made her jump, Obi’s tall figure staggered in front of her and he blasted out the flames before they could make it any further. He dropped the canister once it was empty and turned to Y/N, the blood from his head had stopped and he was a little woozy but the man knelt beside her to check her over, “Y/N? Are you alright? Take a breath…” Obi could see she was beginning to hyperventilate, she was shaking all over, “It’s okay. We got this, Y/N.”

At some point he had put her in the passenger side of the Matchbox, she wasn’t quite sure how long she was there until someone got into the driver’s seat and the vehicle moved as the rest of the team got into the back - Was it over?

“Y/N, look at me.” It was Hinawa, of course, it just had to be him. “Y/N!”

The woman flinched at his demanding tone and she looked at him. He didn’t seem mad at her, he didn’t look any different than usual, his serious, wide-eyed expression seemed the same as always… perhaps she was imagining the softer look in his gaze than usual though.

“It’s over, you’re okay and so is everyone else. Just breathe, if you need to get out for a moment then that’s okay too.” Hinawa glanced over her shoulder as Obi opened the passenger side door to check-in.

Obi placed his hand on her shoulder to offer comfort and recoiled as she jerked away from the touch, “Woah… It’s just me, Y/N…” She wasn’t her usual self at all, usually, she was fine on missions and kept a cool head - Then again she was never this close to the action. “It was a pretty close call, right? You saved me from getting burnt up -”

“I wanna go home…” Y/N sobbed, “I wanna go home to base, I don’t wanna… Please, can we go home, Captain?”

“Sure…”

— -

She didn’t really speak to anyone when they go back, she ran for the showers and was done before any of the other women caught up with her. On her way back to her room she ran into Arthur and Shinra, they asked after her but didn’t pry, their concern made her feel a little better and she thanked them shyly before she kept going. No one brought it up during dinner and it wasn’t until training the next day that Obi and Hinawa called her into the office.

That terrified her, she was going to be fired, they were going to send her back to the 3rd.

Hinawa sat in the corner with his clipboard and Obi had set his chair up opposite the one she would sit in, he wasn’t using his desk to put space between them. When she sat down she couldn’t help but make herself as small as possible and subconsciously held her breath. “Y/N,” Obi began softly, “Why didn’t you mention it before? We could have avoided putting you in that position.”

“It…It’s not a big deal.” She murmured and glanced at Hinawa, “I’m a fire soldier, it… I just, I mean…” Her hands fisted on her lap, “It won’t happen again! I’m sorry!”

Hinawa let out a sigh from the corner and she felt like he had yelled, she didn’t want to lose his respect, Hinawa had given her this opportunity. “I should have been more thorough when investigating you, I knew that you had been injured on duty but I didn’t look into the specifics - I wanted you.” After a beat, he added, “In the 8th.” He leaned his forearms on his knees, he had put her in this position after all, “It’s a big deal, you caught fire and were burned badly enough that you had to take a year off in hospital to recover. I have an immunity to flames, I don’t get burnt in the same way you or the Captain might. It hurts like hell, right? I’m in awe that you go out there and are as compassionate as brave as you are, most people wouldn’t be able to get that close to fire after what happened to you, let alone help others.”

“You were never meant to be that close to the action, Y/N.” Obi said, “You were there because you were trying to save my life. I’ll keep training so that I don’t put any of my team through that again. If you need some time…”

Y/N wiped her eyes on her sleeve, she didn’t want to cry in front of them, she took a deep breath and then looked Obi in the eye, determination on her face, “I’ll keep training too! I don’t need time, I just need to try harder, Captain!” Standing up, Y/N then looked at Hinawa, “I love it here, I was really happy when you said you wanted me, Lieutenant… in the 8th…” She didn’t want this to change how they treated her, “I’ll get better so please, please keep supporting me as before!”

“We should get to training then.” Hinawa said as he stood up, “I think this meeting is over, right, Captain?” Obi nodded and smiled, reaching over to ruffle Y/N’s hair a little, “Y/N, let’s go.”

“Yes, Sir!”

#hinawa takehisa #reader #fire force #burns

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extasiswings · 3 years

Note

"sigurista" for Eddie

Edit: On ao3 here.

sigurista: Someone who makes sure that everything goes as planned; the kind of person who will not act unless he totally feels sure that the desired result would be obtained. [Okay, this is probably cheating because it only very technically fits if you squint, but this is all the result of your enabling so. If anyone wanted more White House AU Buddie, this is a follow up to this prompt fill.]

It’s a quiet day.

Now, Buck’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he can count on one hand the number of times his schedule has been so light throughout the first year of his presidency, so he can’t help checking it again and then a third time just to make sure. But it doesn’t change the longer he looks at it.

Okay. So, it’s a quiet, light day. That’s a good thing—it’s not like he can’t use the rest.

He’s just not sure why he can’t quite work the tension out of his shoulders, why he feels poised on the edge of a tightrope made of razor wire about to either fall or get sliced.

By noon, all of his scheduled meetings are finished and he’s even managed to catch up on some of the reports he’d been meaning to dig deeper into. He’s antsy and full of untethered energy and, finally, he closes the file he’s looking through and crosses the room to knock on the door connecting the Oval with the Chief of Staff’s office.

(After the last time he walked in without thinking and got an eyeful of his sister and Chim that made him want to bleach his brain, he always knocks.)

“Hey, Chim—I’m going to head back to the residence for the rest of the day—”

The main office door opens.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Mr. President,” Athena says, and it’s been enough time that Buck knows when the head of the secret service shows up personally and without warning it means nothing good. Right behind her, the aide to his National Security Advisor comes skidding to a halt, out of breath.

“You’re needed in the situation room, sir.”

Buck looks back at Athena.

“Michael—?”

(It may well be a conflict of interest that the Vice President’s ex-wife is responsible for making sure Buck stays alive, but then, Buck’s pretty sure there’s no less of one than the fact that his sister is dating his Chief of Staff so...)

“He’s being moved to a secure location,” she replies. “But yes, Bobby’s waiting in the sit room. I can fill you in on the way.”

Buck swears internally and runs a hand through his hair.

“Okay. What do we have?”

“Bomb threat and possible shooter at the Pentagon,” Athena says, and Buck’s heart stops, ice freezing his insides. Because that’s—

“You know, some of us have actual work to do,” Eddie said the night before, the look in his eyes exasperated but fond in the dim light from the lamp on his desk.

“You mean entertaining the leader of the free world isn’t in your job description, Lieutenant Diaz?” Buck had teased right back, reveling in the quirk of Eddie’s lips.

“Yeah, well, you’re going to have to find someone else to entertain you tomorrow—I’ll be in meetings with the joint chiefs at the Pentagon all day. Should be thrilling stuff.”

“Maybe I’ll invent a national security emergency—get you out of it.”

Eddie laughed. “Please don’t, they’ll just reschedule. And then there will be paperwork.”

—that’s where Eddie is.

“How the fuck does that happen?” Buck croaks out, feeling like he’s swallowed glass.

“We’re working out the exact details,” Athena replies. “But it’s fairly clear it was an inside job. Whoever it is killed one of the marines on duty and called in the bomb himself, we’re looking at the security feeds and card access records to narrow down a name.”

She finishes just as they step through the door of the situation room and Bobby looks up.

“Dennis Pierce,” he fills in. “He’s been there eight years, looks like he was identified as part of the investigation to see which employees might have ties to white supremacist groups. He hasn’t been fired yet because the investigation isn’t finished, but I guess he saw the writing on the wall.”

“And thought he would tender his resignation by, what? Blowing up the joint chiefs?” Buck can hear the edge in his voice, which means Bobby definitely can as well.

(They met on the campaign trail, when Buck started getting intelligence briefings that made him feel like he was drowning, in over his head. But Bobby never treated him like an idiot who didn’t know the first thing about national security, was always patient, willing to sit with him and explain. And by now, Buck’s pretty sure he would be lost without him. Without him and—)

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Bobby replies, his own voice carefully even. Steady. “We have a bomb squad on site and every armed guard in the building looking for this guy, not to mention that most of the people he’s likely to run into are combat-trained military.”

The phone on the desk rings and Bobby picks it up as the door opens and the heads of the FBI and CIA file in.

“Copy that,” Bobby says and hangs up, tapping a few keys on his keyboard to bring up blueprints on the main screen and highlighting a room on the fifth floor.

“Someone pressed one of the hidden panic buttons in conference room J,” he explains. “Bomb squad is on its way and we should be getting camera feeds—now.”

The feed flickers into the screen and steals Buck’s breath all over again, because there, on the screen, with his hands raised and facing down an older, grizzled white man with a gun in one hand and a trigger to the bomb vest strapped to his chest in the other—is Eddie.

“There’s no audio,” Buck points out as Eddie’s lips move too quickly for him to read anything clearly.

“There aren’t any speakers or mics in the room.”

Maybe not, but—over Pierce’s shoulder, Buck notices a phone on the wall.

“I want to talk to him,” he says. “Call the room.”

Bobby’s look is sharp when he turns to look at him.

“Sir, I really wouldn’t advise—”

“Call,” Buck repeats, his tone booking no argument.

Bobby’s lips press thin, but he picks up the phone, speaking quietly into the receiver while Buck doesn’t look away from the camera feed, his stomach twisting itself into knots as Pierce shakes his head violently in response to whatever Eddie is saying. Time seems to slow the longer he watches, even as Bobby passes him the phone.

“Extension 3596,” Bobby says quietly. And Buck dials.

He can’t see the phone ring on the feed, but he sees the effect—Pierce twitches, his head whipping around in surprise, and Eddie takes advantage of the distraction to move—

The feed cuts out.

The phone keeps ringing.

“What happened?” Buck demands. “What—we have to get it back, we have to—”

The line picks up.

“This is General O’Halloran, who am I speaking with?”

Buck swallows hard.

“General, this is the President. What’s your status?”

“Lieutenant Diaz neutralized the threat, sir. Passed him off to the bomb squad waiting outside. We’re all safe and sound.”

There’s something rising up in his throat, and Buck isn’t sure if it’s just a wave of overwhelming emotion or if it’s actually bile.

“Glad to hear it, General,” he chokes out.

He passes the phone back to Bobby and shoves back his chair then, not caring whether they need him for anything, just needing—needing—

Buck rips at the knot of his tie as he steps into the hallway, and only barely makes it through the door of the bathroom at the end of it before he throws up in the sink.

The door opens again a moment later, as he’s gripping the edge of the sink trying to get his adrenaline under control.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Athena says quietly. “Everyone’s fine. Especially him.”

Buck could almost laugh at that if he was in any sort of mood. Because he hasn’t even told Eddie—not technically—hasn’t ever done anything to truly cross a line, but apparently everyone knows anyway.

“I could have lost him...and I would have had to watch,” he says.

“But you didn’t.”

Buck rinses his mouth out and spits.

“Is Bobby pissed at me for walking out?”

Athena shrugs. “I doubt it. I can take you back to the residence now if you want—tell Bobby to finish up and debrief you later.”

Buck swallows again. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

He pauses as half an idea comes into his head, then adds—

“Hey, Athena? Do you think—”

Which is how he finds himself waiting in a car outside a condo in Virginia with an extra protective detail at nine that night as his regular agents knock on the door. A woman with dark hair opens the door, and Buck can see the way her eyebrows shoot up as she exchanges quick words with the agents before they step inside to conduct their sweep. A minute passes, then the agent at his side taps her earpiece.

“Clear. Got it,” she says, and that’s all Buck needs to get out of the car.

The same dark-haired woman is standing in the entryway, arms crossed, when he walks through the door. He stops in his tracks, suddenly nervous as her calculating gaze trails over him.

“Adriana?” He guesses, and she hums.

“A little warning would have been nice,” she says, but Buck thinks he catches a hint of a smile as she turns on her heel to go down the hallway off the kitchen to what he assumes is a bedroom. “Good night, Mr. President.”

Buck opens his mouth to say something, when Eddie himself appears at the top of the stairs, hair wet and clothes sticking to his skin like he’s just jumped out of the shower.

“Adriana, what the hell—” Eddie cuts off the moment his eyes land on Buck and she just laughs before she disappears down the hall.

“Hi,” Buck says quietly.

“Hey,” Eddie replies. There’s a bruise blossoming over his cheek and Buck’s fingers itch to touch it, or really, to touch Eddie everywhere he can to remind him that he’s here, he’s alive, Buck didn’t lose—

Eddie clears his throat and makes his way the rest of the way down the stairs.

“You’re...in my house.”

Buck shifts his weight. “You almost died today.”

Eddie blows out a breath and rakes a hand through his wet hair.

“Guess you didn’t have to fake that national security emergency after all.”

“Guess not.”

Eddie’s gaze turns considering, his brow furrowing as an odd look crosses his face.

“So...I almost die...and that warrants you showing up in the middle of the night? Why?”

Buck wets his lips, feeling like he can barely hold Eddie’s eyes. His pulse is racing, blood rushing in his ears, and his voice is a mere rasp when he says—

“You know why.”

You have to know.

Eddie glances down at the floor, then over to the windows where the curtains are closed. Then he nods once.

“Maybe. But...I think I need you to say it.”

Buck nearly throws his hands up. “Fuck, Eddie, because I love—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence because Eddie closes the distance and kisses the rest away, backing Buck against the closed front door. Buck nearly chokes on relief as his hand scramble to twist into Eddie’s damp t-shirt and pull him even closer.

“I thought—” he gasps out when Eddie breaks the kiss in favor of pressing a trail of them down his neck— “I thought you were going to die and I wasn’t going to get to tell you.”

Eddie pauses his exploration, hands spasming on Buck’s hips.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes against his skin. “Yeah, me too.”

Buck threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair and tugs him back up to kiss him again.

“Athena says she’ll kill me if I’m not back by midnight,” he admits.

Eddie’s lips quirk as he curls a finger through one of Buck’s belt loops and tugs him towards the stairs.

“Then we’re swimming in time.”

#chapel writes #buddie #buddie fic #prompt fill #shameless enablers the lot of you #letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

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mustangsgloves · 3 years

Text

rain check

listen, I've started this rather angsty Captain America AU for Royai years ago, and finally got around to finishing it...so I hope you enjoy

CW: angst ahead, and what seems like character death, but I promise it's all ok (I'll write it being ok, if you want!)

Summary: With the fate of Ishval at stake, Roy makes the only decision he can...landing the plan in the expanse of the desert before the bombs reach the population. As soon as he makes his choice, Riza radios in...

Read on AO3

----

Roy placed his state-issued pocket watch on the dashboard of the plane. Despite it being the symbol of his leash to the military – generally something that he’d rather not always be reminded of – Roy had made it his own.

Opening the watch, he adjusted it so that the photo placed carefully inside of the top half was facing him. His lips curved upwards softly as Riza’s smiling face, slightly hidden by her own hand – a result from trying to hide from the camera – looked back at him from the small circular frame. All parts of this decision were easy ones…all except for her.

Static fissured through the plane’s intercom.

Riza’s voice broke through, “Colonel Mustang? Do you read me?”

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” Roy replied airily, ignoring the way his stomach flipped and his heart screamed at him to save himself, if only to spare her from pain. “So nice to hear from you.”

“What’s your status, sir,” Riza asked, dismissing his nonchalant comment.

After a few moments, Roy sighed. “I’m going to have to put her in the sand.”

He continued talking, trying hard to ignore the quiet gasp from the woman on the radio.

“If I don’t, a lot of innocent people are going to die. I can’t let that happen Hawkeye…not after the war. I can’t let this man win. Ishval can never go through that kind of horror again…I won’t let it.”

“Sir, we can figure this out,” Riza replied, her voice tense. “There has to be another way. Just wait, I’ll get Fuery on the line, he’ll know what to do.”

“It’s too late, Lieutenant.”

Roy banked the plane slightly, headed for a wide swath of sand several miles to his right. He could make it there, he had to make it there…

“Sir, please. Just let me notify Fuery. He can… maybe he can tell you how to hardwire something to make the plane go down by itself and give you a chance to get out safely. I’m sure that –”

“Hawkeye,” Roy tried again, chest tightening at the growing fear in her voice.

“Fuery is already on it, I’ll talk to Havoc…Breda too, they’re already searching for a safe landing site, just hold on a few min–”

“Riza,” he breathed.

She stopped, and through the static Roy heard a shuddering breath.

“I don’t have a few minutes, Riza. I have to put her down now, otherwise I’ll miss my window and the bombs will reach Ishval.” He held back tears as he eased the plane downwards.

“Colonel, I…”

Roy exhaled, gazing at the photo in his pocketwatch. Instantly, he felt at peace. “I’m going to need a rain check on that dance.”

A beat of silence before a quiet, “I thought rain made you useless, Colonel.”

Roy gave a small puff of laughter. “Sure, but with you around I’m sure I’ll be able to manage.”

Roy remained quiet as he listened to her fight down a quiet sob.

“Though the more I think about it, the last time we danced, I think we were just kids.” He knew his voice would be barely audible through the growing static as he approached the ground. “I think I’ll need you to remind me how, go over it a bit, nice and slow…I wouldn’t want to step on your toe –”

The plane crashed into the sand, and the world went black.

As they screeched to a halt on the airfield, Riza let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. They had finally tracked down the man behind the scheme to bomb Ishval earlier that day, and Roy, of course, had done something reckless in the heat of the moment and boarded the plane mere seconds before the doors closed.

Riza had tried to convince him otherwise, or to at least let her go with him, but there had been no time, and he was set on his decision. However, the dark-haired man had somehow found time to lean down and give her a swift kiss on the lips.

Understandably she had been floored. Roy had given her his sly, trouble-maker smile before saying, “I should’ve done that years ago. See you soon, Hawkeye.”

With that, he had leapt out of the parked car and sprinted towards the plane, which was quickly gaining speed, given her one last look, and then disappeared into the small aircraft.

Sitting in the driver’s seat beside her, Lieutenant Havoc had remained quiet through their small moment, simply chewing on his ever-present unlit cigarette. The man was now watching the plane with a smirk, but Riza could see the concern clearly in his blue-eyed gaze.

“Damn,” Havoc chuckled. “If I had known all it took for him to get the courage to kiss you was to have a bomb threat and an airplane, the men and I would’ve arranged this years ago.”

Riza sighed and rolled her eyes, but she was thankful for Havoc’s attempted distraction. His unsaid words hung heavy in the air. They both knew it: this was practically a suicide mission. But they refused to say it…say it and it becomes all too real.

It was the same as when Hughes had fallen from that train, just two months before. Riza had watched as Roy avoided declaring his friend dead for weeks before he was forced to do so by a commanding officer. Roy had told her that as long as he didn’t say it, as long as those words never left his mouth, then it wouldn’t feel real.

But in the end he had had to say them. “Hughes is dead.”

Roy had felt responsible for Hughes’ death, Riza knew. She knew that he beat himself up over it for those many painful weeks, thinking about how he should have realized he was going to fall earlier, should have grabbed him sooner, should have held on tighter… So many should haves, but should haves wouldn’t bring him back. Hughes was dead, and there was nothing they could do about it.

As Havoc put the car in gear and pulled off of the airstrip, beginning to head back to their makeshift base a few blocks away, Riza found herself remembering what Roy had told her right after he had reported the news of Hughes’ passing to the base. Take care of yourself, Hawkeye, please…I can’t afford to lose you too.

Did he know? Did he know that she couldn’t afford to lose him either?

She swallowed down the growing unease in her throat. Roy would be fine. He would take out the man on the plane, Lyle, and land the plane safely. He would come back. She would tell him, remind him that she couldn’t lose him either. Everything would be fine…

So why did she feel so sick?

Upon entering the small base they’d set up, Riza immediately took charge. “Fuery! I need you to patch me through to Colonel Mustang right now!”

Fuery looked up from his makeshift communications desk and nodded, immediately going to fiddle with different knobs in order to connect to the intercom in the plane that Roy was currently flying.

“Havoc, Breda,” Riza continued, spinning around to look at the two men. “I want you to get specs on the plane and try to locate a safe landing zone for the Colonel, as quickly as possible.”

“Falman, I need you to get as much information on the bombs in the plane,” Riza said after Breda and Havoc saluted and exited the small room. “We need to know if there’s a way to disengage them.”

Falman nodded and disappeared out of the door that Breda and Havoc had exited.

Breathe, Riza told herself. Stay calm…

Listening to the static of Fuery’s radio as he scanned channels, she tried to calm her racing heart…and ignore the flood of memories that had, unbidden, entered her mind.

Roy, several years younger, laughing as he leaned nonchalantly on a standard issue Amestris Military car in which Maes Hughes sat in the front seat, pretending to drive.

Roy, a few months before, sheepishly handing her a pair of earrings he’d bought for her at the local market. He was blushing and her own cheeks flushed as well.

Roy, over the years, spending the day slacking off from his paperwork and duties, making jokes and laughing with the rest of his team.

Roy…almost a decade ago, holding her a little more closely than could be considered proper while they slowly danced, and him gazing down at her with a look that she didn’t dare give a name to.

“Ma’am,” Fuery’s voice interrupted her quickly spiraling mind. “I’ve made it through.”

Riza felt her stomach twist. “Thank you Fuery,” she managed, quickly grabbing the proffered phone.

“Colonel Mustang? Do you read me?”

A beat. Riza could feel her blood rushing and panic rising in her throat.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” came the staticky response. “So nice to hear from you.”

Riza’s chest tightened.

“What’s your status sir?” Leave it to him to try to lighten the mood.

For several moments he stayed quiet, and Riza knew…she knew that he wasn’t coming back from this.

“I’m going to have to put her in the sand,” Roy said quietly.

It was all she could do to keep the growing sob in her throat contained that the gasp that escaped seemed inconsequential. She barely registered what he was saying as he continued.

“…Ishval can never go through that kind of horror again…I won’t let it.”

Riza’s mind went blank, simultaneously overstimulated and empty. Of course he was right…but all of her selfishly, desperately wished it didn’t require losing him.

“Sir, we can figure this out,” she began. “There has to be another way. Just wait, I’ll get Fuery on the line, he’ll know what to do.”

““It’s too late, Lieutenant,” Roy said softly.

She kept talking. If she kept talking he couldn’t tell her nothing would change what was about to happen. If she kept talking…he wouldn’t leave.

“Sir, please. Just let me notify Fuery,” Riza said, not even trying to hide the desperation in her voice. “He can… maybe he can tell you how to hardwire something to make the plane go down by itself and give you a chance to get out safely. I’m sure that –”

“Hawkeye,” Roy interrupted. Riza kept talking.

“Fuery is already on it, I’ll talk to Havoc…Breda too, they’re already searching for a safe landing site, just hold on a few min–”

“Riza.”

All of her defenses broke with that one word, uttered softly and almost reverently.

Riza managed a shuddering breath. Roy’s voice left no room for argument.

“I don’t have a few minutes, Riza. I have to put her down now, otherwise I’ll miss my window and the bombs will reach Ishval.”

“Colonel, I…” Riza tried again, the lump in her throat making breathing, let alone speaking, increasingly difficult.

“I’m going to need a rain check on that dance.”

Riza felt the tears that had begun to gather in her eyes start to roll slowly down her cheeks. She swallowed hard. “I thought rain made you useless, Colonel.”

His laugh, as comforting and reassuring as it usually was, only made the tears fall harder. “Sure,” he said lightly, “but with you around I’m sure I’ll be able to manage.”

She fought down the sob fighting to leave her throat.

“Though the more I think about it, the last time we danced, I think we were just kids.” His voice was barely audible over the growing static. “I think I’ll need you to remind me how, go over it a bit, nice and slow…I wouldn’t want to step on your toe –”

The comms cut off, and so, it felt, did Riza’s heart.

Static.

“Colonel?” Riza croaked, “Colonel Mustang! Sir? Colonel do you read me? I need you to come in, sir…”

Static.

“…Roy?”

There was nothing but static.

“…Roy?” Riza’s voice cracked. Havoc fought back a flinch at the desperation in the word.

Havoc watched his superior officer from the doorframe, having come running as soon as he heard her raised voice. His stomach twisted at the way her face screwed tightly with unbridled emotion. It hurt to watch the tears flow without restraint. Havoc tried to ignore the way that she had pleadingly said “Roy,” and the way that her knuckles went white as she desperately grasped the phone and the desk it sat on…he tried to ignore the tears pricking his own eyes.

Riza let out a ragged scream as the static laden silence on the other end of the comm grew louder. Fuery looked away from where he stood nearby, eyes screwed shut and defeat written clearly on his features. Havoc clenched his jaw, strode forward quietly, and went to place a hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder, but the woman flinched away, falling to her knees. She choked out another cry – shorter than before but no less painful. Swallowing back a sob of his own, he let himself crumple to the ground beside her, simply sitting there for several moments. Letting his tears fall freely, Havoc gently maneuvered Hawkeye into his arms, and she collapsed into them, sobs raking her small frame.

Whatever else had happened, even if the world had been saved, their team suffered an insurmountable loss today…she had suffered an unimaginable loss…

Roy Mustang was gone.

#this hurt to write but also??? I think it works idk #royai #royai fanfic #captain america au #fma #fma:b #it's be SO long since I've written for FMAB I miss it #my fic #um idk what else to tag but I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!!

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samantha-chicago · 4 years

Text

Back In Town Pt. 1

Summary: You come back home after a 24 month long deployment and see Jay Halstead and Greg Gerwitz your best friends but you also see your ex who you never thought you would see again.

Pairing: Reader x Adam Ruzek, Kelly Severide, Jay Halstead, Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz, Intelligence

Warning/s: Mentions of guns, cheating

You walked into Molly's a local bar that had opened up while you were overseas in Afghanistan. You grew up in Canaryville alongside Adam Ruzek who you dated for many years until you found out he had cheated while you were in Iran for the first time. After 5 years together you had to call it quits. You sat down at the bar ignoring that you were in your uniform, spending your first few hours back in Chicago in a bar.

"You're new about here what can I get you?" An older guy asked as you placed your hat on the bar

"Whiskey on rocks please" You answered with a small smile. You ran your hand over the last name embroidered on to the hat "Y/L/N" it read. If you had asked yourself 3 years ago what name would have been on that hat you would have replied "Y/L/N-Ruzek". You wanted to keep your last name cause you were the only girl left on your side of the family. The man handed you a Whiskey on rocks

"Y/L/N When did you get back in?" You turned around to see Jay Halstead leaning on the bar next to you. You, Jay and Greg Gerwitz aka Mouse all severed together a good few years back but they left the army and you redeployed for a few years

"Like an hour ago although I'm back at my parents house" You scrunched your face up thinking about that

"Ditch your bags and run?" You let out a small laugh

"My bags are in my sister's car so in a way yeah"

"I've got someone you might want to see follow me" Jay grabbed your drink while you grabbed your hat placing it back on your head. To be honest you didn't need to but it was a habit that would be hard to forget

"So what you going to do now you're back?" Jay asked making small talk

"Well I'm not sure. I can be a cop, firefighter, paramedic or doctor"

"You'll decide soon enough" You nodded taking your drink from Jay and taking a sip of it

"Real alcohol tastes good" You said smiling something which was a rare sight. You were tough when you were kidnapped people found it so hard to break you they would normally just give up. You reached a table and saw 2 familiar faces. One you missed dearly and another you never wanted to see again. Greg Gerwitz and Adam Ruzek you silently prayed that Adam didn't recognise you.

"Am I dreaming or is Y/N Y/L/N standing in front of me?" Mouse asked getting up and hugging you.

"It must be a better dream than mines are" You joked hugging Mouse back being careful not to spill your drink

"What are you doing back in Chicago? When did you get in? Where are you staying? How was your parents divorce?" Mouse threw off questions and you let out a small laugh. It was amazing how easy Mouse and Jay could make you laugh even through the hard times

"Well my tour finished, I got back in an hour ago, I'm staying with my mom and my mom got everything in the divorce for obvious reasons"

"I mean how the hell did he kill someone he's harmless he wouldn't even kill a spider"

"Yeah I know" You ignored the fact Adam was staring at you as both Mouse and Jay threw their arms over your shoulders.

"We'll be back guys" Jay said as Jay and Mouse started leading you somewhere.

"Where are we going?" You asked

"Just shut up Y/L/N" Jay said and you slapped him around the head. Back at the intelligence table everyone had noticed Adam staring at you.

“I’m gonna say this for Ruzek here. She’s hot” Kevin said as Kim slapped him.

“The one that got away” Adam muttered loud enough for people to hear but not understand him

“What was that?” Hailey asked and he shrugged dowing the last of his beer. Back over to where Jay and Mouse were dragging you they pushed you down onto a chair

“Mouse watch her” Jay instructed as you finished the last of your drink

“So what was that with Ruzek back there?” Mouse asked and you shrugged

“Who’s Ruzek?” You questioned playing dumb

“Oh come on Y/L/N don’t act dumb you avoided his eyes but no one else's” You sighed standing up

“Look Mouse I’m just gonna head home” He lifted the corner of your shirt up to expose the tattoo on your hip

“A.R means Adam Ruzek he’s the one who cheated isn’t he?” You nodded slowly

“I don’t think about him when I look at the tattoo I think about my favorite gun” Mouse laughed slightly

“ArmaLite Rifle” You nodded

“Exactly” Jay walked back over with his brother Will Halstead who you wrapped in a hug. When you got back after your 3rd tour you were injured and wouldn’t let a doctor look at you until Jay convinced you to let Will look at you.

“Y/N it’s good to see you back in the 3 musketeers these 2 were getting a bit boring without you” Jay slapped his brother as you let out a small laugh “I better get back before I lose my head but it was good seeing you Y/N” You bid Will your goodbyes as Jay dragged you over to the bar

“Herrmann 3 whiskey on rocks, 3 shots” You looked at Jay with wide eyes

“I came here to have 1 drink not get drunk”

“Oh well enjoy it” He said wrapping his arms around your shoulder. The older man who you had just learned was called Herrmann handed you three shots. You, Jay and Mouse grabbed one

“To Y/L/N being back in Chicago” You all downed the shots as some guy caught your eye

“Who’s that?” You asked nudging your head towards the guy laughing with his friends at the bar

“Kelly Severide, Chicago’s womaniser I wouldn’t get involved with him”

“What happens if I just want a one night stand?”

“Then Mouse is there” He said pulling the hat off your head and handing it to the bartender telling him you’ll collect it at the end of the night. Him and Mouse dragged you back to the table they were sitting at before

“Halstead who’s this?” A blonde asked

“Yeah Jay who’s this” You heard Will from behind you causing you to turn around and slap him upside the head

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be William?”

“Y/N/N one of these days you will love me” You let out a small laugh

“In your dreams” You joked

“Ok Y/N, Will stop fighting. Guys this is Y/N Y/L/N she was in the rangers with us. Y/N this is the intelligence unit. We have Kim Burgess, Kevin Atwater, Adam Ruzek, Antonio Dawson and Erin Lindsay” You smiled

“Hey it was great meeting you all but I’m gonna go” You saw Mouse slyly point to your hip which caused you to nod slowly

“Go hook up with Severide he’s not as bad as Jay made him out to be” Mouse whispered in your ear as you hugged him goodbye. You walked over and leaned against the bar.

“You hear to get another drink or your hat?” The latina woman asked

“Just my hat please”

“I’m Gabby Dawson” She introduced herself

“Y/L/N, Y/N Y/L/N sorry the last name first is a bit of a bit” You explained motioning to your uniform

“Hey don’t worry about it give me a minute. Severide what can I get you?” Gabby asked Kelly Severide the guy who caught my eye earlier. You zoned out looking around the rustic bar for the first time. Paying real attention to all the details, the markings on the wood, the fairy lights on the ceilings and how everyone seemed to know each other.

“Hey you new about here?” Kelly Severide asked sitting on the stool next to were you were standing

“Not exactly I grew up in Canaryville but I’m just back from deployment” You stated with a smile

“Kelly Severide” He introduced himself with a smile that was hard to resist

“Y/N Y/L/N”

“I’m about to get out of here if you want a lift” He offered

“Are you sure? I don’t mind calling an uber I have great self-defence skills” You joked

“No come on”

“Hold on how do I know you aren’t about to kidnap me?” You questioned with a smile

“I saw you with Halstead and to be honest I don’t want to be on the bad side of his boss anyway I’m a lieutenant with the CFD” You let out a small hum

“You don’t by any chance have any job openings? You asked as you followed him out to his car

“I would have to ask Chief if I could have someone else on Squad. Why?”

“I’ve been deployed for the last 24 months and I need a job. I’ve got training to be a doctor, paramedic, firefighter or police officer I was really undecided after each tour” You stated as he held the door open for you. You climbed into his passenger side

“You’ve got loads of choice but I’ll speak to chief tomorrow anyway where am I taking you?” You glanced at the time

“Erm shit I didn’t think that far ahead. Just take me to a hotel nearby I can’t be bothered with my mom being like ‘oh your home’ or ‘at least you’re better than your father’ or something along those lines”

“Are you sure I have a spare bedroom and some clothes you can use”

“Are you sure I don’t want to intrude I mean you’re already driving me”

“I’m sure I’m taking you to mine”

“Thank you” You said with a smile

“Don’t worry about it I don’t have anyone at home”

“Yeah I heard you’re Chicago’s womaniser” You smirked

“Been asking about me?” You shrugged

“Don’t say you didn’t ask about me”

“Ok you caught me there but no one knew who you were” Your phone started ringing so you answered it

“Y/L/N” You answered calmly the worst going through your head

“Hey Mouse gave me your number” Adam’s voice came through the phone

“So you deleted my number”

“Did you delete mine?”

“What do you want and why couldn’t this have been a text?” You snapped

“Look Y/N I’m sorry I made a giant mistake all those years ago but you can see I’m somewhere better”

“Why am I supposed to believe you just cause your now a cop doesn’t mean I trust you” You hung up and lay your head back on the headrest

“I don’t want to impose but are you ok that sounded heated”

“My ex he cheated on me on my first deployment we were together 5 years” You said keeping it simple. You arrived at Kelly’s and he lead you into his appartment and he showed you to the guest bedroom before giving you one of his shirts and a pair of joggers. You told him you would join him after getting changed which is what you did. You were now sitting on the couch with him watching the replays of the hockey game that was on the previous night. You kept stealing glances at him and you caught him doing the same thing a few times. ‘What harm is it going to do?’ ‘One night no strings attached’ ‘He could be your boss’ All these thoughts were going through your head but you fought them off and kissed him. Much to your surprise he kissed back. Tongues and lips moving in sync until you were both struggling for air which was when yous pulled back

“I shouldn’t have done th-” You started off but he cut you off kissing you again. He picked you up in one swift movement wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you through to his bedroom. You kicked the door shut behind you before he lay you down on the bed.

“Are you sure you want to continue?” He asked voice low as you nodded

“Definitely” You and Kelly spent the night together doing stuff you never thought you would do any time soon but it was fun. He had shift the next morning so you didn’t go for to long but it was still fun.

#reader x adam ruzek #reader x kelly severide #reader x jay halstead #reader x greg gerwitz #molly's bar #chicago fire #Gabby Dawson #Erin Lindsay #Will Halstead #Jay Halstead #Kelly Severide #Kim Burgess #kevin atwater #Chicago PD #chicago pd imagine #chicago fire imagine

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hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 10.5

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 3.3k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act one ➻ part 10.5

“Watch your step,” Seonghwa says as you follow him through tall double doors. Despite his warning, you still manage to catch your foot on the edge of the threshold. You don’t fall to the ground – a miracle honestly – but the embarrassment still causes heat to rise in your cheeks. Seonghwa doesn’t make matters any better by turning to smirk at your clumsy actions out the corner of his eye. “I said watch your step.”

“And I said no,” you bite back through the embarrassment. Seonghwa laughs through his nose, waiting for you to pass him before tapping away at the keypad beside the door. It slides shut, and you glare down at the offending piece of threshold that caused you to stumble.

“Are you gonna shoot it for offending you, princess?”

“Might shoot you for the hell of it, pretty boy.” You shift your glare to the tall Lieutenant, who maintains the cheeky grin on his lips even as you bore daggers into his head with your eyes. “Where are we anyway?”

“This is our training room. Shooting range, punching bags, sparring court.” Seonghwa motions around the room, pointing to each thing as he mentions them, and you follow the line of his fingers.

“And we’re here because…?”

“You’re so impatient, princess. At least let a man finish before you interrupt.”

“Your mouth wasn’t even open,” you retort through a scoff.

“I was thinking about what to say.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Well be quiet so I can explain.”

You purse your lips, tongue darting out to run over the front of your teeth. Seonghwa seems pleased by your silence though, and a satisfied smile covers his lips before he continues to speak.

“We’re here to spar.”

“Oh, is that your definition of a good time?”

“If we were going by my definition of a good time, we’d be in my room.”

“I-I – we-well. Right. Yea. R-Right.” His less than wholesome remark comes out of left field, and you certainly weren’t expecting it in the slightest. You can’t stop yourself from getting flustered. Seonghwa chuckles again, letting his tongue toy at the corner of his lips before he speaks again.

“Sparring, because you need to work on your strength if you wanna use that pretty little trigger arm again. Yunho said physical therapy. Have you been doing it?”

“I’ve been doing stretches and stuff…” You trail off. You avoid Seonghwa’s gaze, but it betrays the fact that you have not actually been doing much to strengthen your arm. For which you blame no one but yourself, because, in all honesty, you would have gone to Yunho sooner if not for the lingering awkwardness of your slight argument not too long ago. Which no one knows about as far as you know, but you certainly aren’t planning on making it table talk.

“Right, mhm, stretches – or lack thereof – aren’t going to cut it.” Seonghwa moves away from you and prompts you to follow him, which you do albeit with no shortage of hesitance. He guides you over to one of the walls, opening a small cabinet to pull out a small roll of white gauze. “Wrap your palms and wrists. We’ll start on the punching bags before I kick your ass.”

“Kick my ass? Those are fighting words, Lieutenant.”

“I guess you’ll just have to prove me wrong then, no?” He tosses the roll of gauze over to you, one brow raised high. You catch it with ease but keep your glare on the man as you wrap the material around your palms and wrists. “have you ever done anything like this?”

“Of course I have. You think they just teach us to shoot in the military?”

“You never know. I was looking forward to teaching you a thing or two though. Damn, maybe we can do that if we ever get to try out my definition of a good time. I’m sure I can teach you a lot of things there.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to beat the shit out of you.” You yank the material tight around your wrist, securing it in place before chucking the spool of wrap back at Seonghwa. He catches it with one hand then motions towards where the punching bags hang off to the side with the same hand.

“Quit talking big and go over there.”

You sigh but do as told, and Seonghwa follows behind you. You can hear the tear of the gauze; he must be wrapping his wrists as well, but that’s putting a lot of confidence in your arm being okay enough to spar in the first place. As dramatic as Hongjoong initially made it seem, you haven’t felt too much a difference. Your hand does tremble when holding a pistol in front of you, but close distance isn’t an issue. It’s moreso long-distance that presents an issue, and only with pistols. You aren’t completely sure whether strengthening the muscle will fix that, but it wouldn’t hurt to try anyway. Seonghwa wraps around you, tossing the roll of gauze off to the side, and places a hand on the side of the tattered brown punching bag.

“Just give it a few swings and stuff to warm up. If you’re feeling okay afterward, we can try sparring one on one. Okay?”

“Understood,” you mutter back. Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof then steps away from the bag. You wait for him to get out of the way, finding his own bag. He starts to lay into it with jabs and punches. For a moment you just stand there and watch him hit the bag, but he hesitates when he doesn’t hear any sound coming from your side of the room. You whip your head back to the bag in front of you, settling into a stance you remember well from your time in the military.

This was always the most simple lesson for new recruits, and it was all based around strength. You were quite honestly a runt when you first became a recruit, however, and you had little to no strength. Sure, part of that could be blamed upon how you grew up and where, but it put you at a major disadvantage compared to your fellow recruits. That did make you the target of your generals for a time, and you were forced to go through extra training to just be on par with the other members of your unit, but the second they put a sniper in your hands, the balance shifted in your favor.

You still remember your old lessons quite well; although that’s a bit surprising since it’s been so many years since you first took them. The punching bag is rough under your knuckles as you knock against it. There isn’t much strain on your right arm, but the longer you use it, the more it burns. Not necessarily in a painful type of way, but rather just a tired ache in your muscles – a surefire sign that your muscles did indeed take a bigger hit than you initially thought they did.

Several minutes pass just like that; you and Seonghwa on opposite sides of the room, each hitting your own punching bag with force and dexterity. He’s the first one to pull back, sweat beading his hairline and causing the dark strands of hair to stick against his forehead. His chest heaves as he walks over to your side, hands pressed against his hips, and you notice that he’s pushed his sleeves up over his shoulders and revealed toned muscles that could definitely beat your ass handily.

You stop your movements as he gets closer and steady the bag with your left hand to look him in the eye.

“Yes?” You inquire when he doesn’t say anything right away.

“How’s your arm feeling?”

“No pain,” you answer with a small shrug of your shoulders. “Muscles are just a bit underused and tired.”

“You should be fine for some sparring then?”

It takes a second for you to process the statement as a question, and when it finally does, you nod with haste.

“Let’s do it, pretty boy.”

Seonghwa throws his head back as a laugh tears through his chest. He brings a hand to his hair, combing through the damp locks, and you follow him onto a thick mat. You backtrack immediately though to slip your shoes off and leave them at the edge of the mat, whereas Seonghwa just kicks his off on the mat and moves them with his hands. The two of you face each other in silence.

The gleam in Seonghwa’s eyes remains playful even as he secures the sleeves of his shirt further on his shoulders. You mimic the action and fold the sleeves of your basic white tee up like his.

“Two of three. Whoever gets knocked on their ass twice loses. Has to stay down for five seconds for it to count. How does that sound?”

“Easy enough,” you answer, smile stretching but you hide your teeth behind the line of your lips.

“I’ll go easy on you since you’re at a disadvantage, princess.” Seonghwa slides his feet apart slightly and falls into an offensive stance. You mirror his movements but step into a more defensive one. The second lesson they taught you in the military was to watch your enemy for patterns or nuances that would indicate weaknesses. Seonghwa is leaning all his weight on his front foot – the left one – which means he’s going to go for an attack first, then pull that weight back onto his right one. You push back on your right foot, shifting the weight back to be opposite his stance.

“I can handle you, pretty boy,” you taunt, tongue darting out to drag over your top lip.

Seonghwa’s left foot slides in, and you flit your gaze up to his face as he moves. The attack is easy to dodge, his movements readable and basic. You make a jab for the inside of his ribcage, he snaps his hand down against yours and catches your wrist with the same amount of ease. You twist your hand in his grip, slipping loose before he can toss you to the ground. Your gaze pulls off his feet to watch the shifts of his arms instead. As he moves left, you move right, and thus the two of you engage in a small dance.

He attacks next, staying on the offensive side of things. Feet skid across the mat as he lunges forward, but he turns at the last second and secures a hand at your hip. He fights to grab your leg, but you greet him with a sharp elbow to the shoulder. He stumbles back and lets your hip loose. You shuffle back a few steps. Eventually, you’ll have to shift over to the offensive side but Seonghwa won’t let up. He hits you with two consecutive attacks – one jab for your right shoulder, and as you are leaning away from him, he brings his right leg up to hook around your left knee. You don’t even have time to blink before he sends you down to the mat, hitting with enough force to take all the air out of your lungs. Seonghwa comes down with you, knee pressed against the inside of your hip to keep you to the ground. What follows is the longest five seconds of your life, and even as you try to tug out of his grasp, his weight proves too much for you to fight against.

“Five seconds, princess,” Seonghwa taunts as he pulls himself back to his feet once the time elapses. “One point to me then.”

He extends a hand to you, and you take it begrudgingly. He tugs you to your feet. The two of you fall back into your stances without missing a beat. Seonghwa’s eyes dance with playful exuberance as his stance falls to a defensive one. It seems that he wants you to be on the offensive side first this time, but you don’t take the allowance as a compliment. You’re certain that he could flip things back to the offensive side without much effort, so you opt not to go into an attacking stance quite yet. You keep your weight shifting from foot to foot.

You and Seonghwa resume your aggressive dance, exchanging blow after blow but not managing to send each other down quite yet. Whilst you manage to deliver several hits and they land nicely, it’s not enough to cast Seonghwa off his balance. However, now that you know a few of his tricks from the first round and watching his steps, you manage to dart around his attacks with haste. You are lighter on your feet than he is, although he’s still quite nimble and that surprises you for a man of his height.

An opening arises when he leans forward with his left foot. His right comes off the ground for a split second but it’s an opening nonetheless and you slip your foot under his before he brings it back to the ground. The surprise of hitting your foot rather than the mat causes Seonghwa to jerk upwards again. As his leg lifts you use all your force to ram your left shoulder into his chest. He stumbles back, balance quickly diminishing, and you sweep your leg in a circle to catch his and fully bring him to the ground.

His eyes go wide as he falls to the ground, and he almost seems to move in slow motion. You smirk as he hits the mat, an ‘oof’ escaping him, and you press one knee to the middle of his chest.

“Checkmate.” You know he’s more than strong enough to overpower you and flip the position with ease, but Seonghwa just lies back and smiles up at you with fire in his eyes.

“Good move, princess. That’s five seconds.”

“You practically gave that one to me,” you huff as you stand back up straight. You extend an arm to Seonghwa the way he did to you, and he lets you pull him up.

“Then I’ll make sure not to go easy on you this time.” Seonghwa chuckles to himself as he falls back into a fighting stance. You match him this time, knowing that you don’t have any room for error now that the score is one to one. Neither of you are directly offensive or defensive this time. Seonghwa’s posture is relaxed and confident, he doesn’t bend as low this time, and the gleam in his eyes reads arrogance. He’s certain that he will win this round as well, but you’re determined to at least give him hell before he takes you down.

You attack first this time, a swift jab to his outer hip, and Seonghwa closes your hand against his side by slamming his arm down on top of yours. He traps your wrist between his hip and forearm. You push your weight up against him, head connecting with his shoulder. This time, Seonghwa manages to keep you pinned though. He slips a leg between yours, hooking his foot around your ankle. The action nearly sends you spiraling to the ground but you spring your wrist loose at the last second and roll out of the way before he can pin you down.

You exhale a huff of laughter as you look up at Seonghwa. One of his sleeves has fallen back to its original place, but the other maintains its spot rather well. His hair remains pressed flat again his forehead, even more damp than before, and his chest heaves from the further exertion. You’re sure you look to be in a similar state of disarray but you don’t have time to think about it before Seonghwa is attacking you again. The sudden combination of attacks are rough and hard-hitting; he doesn’t even wait for you to get back up to your feet to hit you. You defend yourself as best you can, blocking around half of the attacks comfortably. One of his kicks hits your forearm awkwardly, and you release a small shout of pain at the contact.

Seonghwa ceases his attacks immediately. Freezes up actually and kneels beside you with eyes suddenly full of concern. In all honesty, it didn’t hurt that bad and you don’t even feel a dull throb coming from where he hit you. You’ve never been a fair player though, and you rub at the skin while hissing through your teeth.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Which arm is it? Let me see,” Seonghwa rants, hands coming to rest atop yours. His balance shifts, and in that moment, you swing forward and flip him onto his back. You pin his wrists on either side of his head, a cocky grin overtaking your lips.

“Still going easy on me?” You taunt. Seonghwa blinks up at you, still a step behind, and when he realizes how you tricked him, his expression settles into a bitter one.

“That’s a cheap trick, princess.”

“It still worked on you, didn’t–”

You don’t have time to respond. Seonghwa somehow tugged his wrists out of your grasp while speaking. He swings a leg around your waist and pushes off the ground to alter your positions. All of a sudden, you’re the one laying flat on your back with your wrists pinned to the ground. Seonghwa keeps both of your hands on the mat with only one of his, and you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that the show of strength is mildly impressive. He lifts his other hand to glance down at his wristband. It’s his turn to wear a cocky grin.

“Five seconds, princess.”

“That was cheap.”

“You only had me down for four.” Seonghwa pokes the edge of his mouth with his tongue, eyes taunting you with their playful gleam. “I win. Two of three. Although you put up a better fight than I thought you would.”

“Oh, what a compliment.” You writhe against Seonghwa’s grip. The awkwardness of the position is beginning to settle in a little, with his legs pressed on either side of your hips and his hand pinning yours above your head. He doesn’t let up though, eyes ever-playful as he stares down at you.

“It was cute when you tried to pin me down.” Seonghwa’s eyes scan your expression. Your face is hot but moreso from embarrassment rather than the physical exertion. Seonghwa’s cheeks are a little flushed, small beads of sweat travel down his temple, and you follow the movement with your eyes. “I wonder…” He trails off without finishing the train of thought then pulls off of you a moment later.

It gives you a chance to exhale a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“How does your arm feel?”

“Like it’s gonna be sore tomorrow,” you grumble as you pull yourself into a sitting position. “But it doesn’t hurt.”

“Good. Maybe next time you can actually try to beat me.” Seonghwa stands up and tugs at the bands around his arms. He unwinds them while smirking down at you. You glare back.

“Next time?”

“You think I’m going to let you off the hook? That arm isn’t going to fix itself with some ‘stretches’. I’ll put you on your ass every day if I have to.”

“Yea, well, something tells me you’d like to do that regardless.”

Seonghwa quirks a brow at your muttered comment. You don’t miss the way his eyes trail over your body, moving head to toe, then he tilts his head side to side.

“Can’t deny that.”

“Ugh, you’re despicable.” You stand up and head for the double doors, intent on leaving the training room before he gets you even more flustered.

“Four o’clock tomorrow, Y/N!” Seonghwa calls out after you, a laugh in his tone.

“Yea, yea, whatever, pretty boy.”

✧✧✧ a/n: ohohohohoho i smell some sexual tension 👃👃👃👃 JKDFJ this idea came to mind, and some people on the survey were asking about sparring sessions or just daily lives of the crew along with y/n so i decided to break up some of our juicy tension with mORE JUICY TENSION wow at least im consistent sodifjofij i hope you all enjoy this part! it’s quite early in terms of me writing stuff but i couldn’t get this idea out of my head

this is a repost because i deleted the wrong one im sorry just ignore this and me slkdfjljiojo

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @yayhei @haotheheckk @noonawriter

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years

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As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 16 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Chapter 15)

Nixon - July - September 1944 All thought left Nixon’s mind as he stared down into Emily’s red-rimmed gray eyes. He wanted to say more, but the words were stuck in his throat. Who the hell was he to tell her anything? He was married. He was a bad husband, a selfish lover, a drunk - he had no business giving her advice.

“Just trust me,” he whispered. Emily’s frown deepened as she searched his face. But Nixon would reveal nothing. The only thing he was certain about in that moment was that he didn’t want to see Emily get hurt; not by Harry, not by him, not by anyone. “Emily, I’m sorry I accused you of not taking your job seriously. You are one of the best people on my staff.”  “Really?” Emily’s voice was meek.  “If not the best. You’re invaluable. I’m sorry that I haven’t given you the acknowledgment you deserve. I’m sorry you don’t get the respect you deserve.” Emily swallowed. Nixon’s heart broke into a thousand pieces when her chin quivered. “I’m sorry I got so emotional,” she said in a hushed voice. “Don’t apologize.” Nixon wanted to move forward to touch her, to hold her, but something in him wouldn’t allow it. She probably didn’t want that from him anyway. His words could only heal so much in a night.  “Please,” something caught in Nixon’s throat, “please just don’t say anything to Harry. I don’t want to see you get heartbroken.” Emily bit her lip. It took all of his patience to remain quiet as he waited for her to respond. She roamed his face with her eyes. It was as if she was looking right through him, right into the very core of him. Nixon’s stomach jumped at her shameless gaze. “Fine,” she finally said. Fine, he would have to accept that. Inside, he begged her to say more. He begged her to stay standing there so he could just look at her a moment longer. But she turned to the street, the city’s shadows rippling off the folds of her dress, the angle of her jaw and curve of her eyelashes. She stretched a hand into the night sky and a black cab appeared, its golden headlights flashing. Emily turned back to look at him before stepping through the open car door, “see you in Aldbourne, Nix.”  Nixon only managed to raise a hand goodbye and then she was gone, slipping off into the night. Nixon kicked himself. Why did he make the same mistake over and over again? He always went too far. He was mean. Why? Why did he lose his cool around her? Day after day he had officers, soldiers, and Tommy’s saying stupid shit to him and he still managed to hold his tongue. But the simplest conversation with Emily would spiral out of his control. Nixon returned to Aldbourne in the morning. He was relieved to be back. He needed a purpose and he enjoyed the work that occupied him. Green replacements were showing up every day to take the place of men Nixon had worked alongside for two years. All of the new faces suddenly made the quaint refuge of Aldbourne feel foreign. The new soldiers hadn’t had half the training the Toccoa men had, nor the rigor that Easy Company experienced under Sobel. Winters and the other officers had their work cut out for them getting the replacements up to standard. Nixon had other things to worry about. The 101st was on standby; jumps were scheduled and canceled as Patton’s army infiltrated the continent. The men were restless. Having faced the reality of war in Normandy, the men were living carpe diem. They went out drinking, fighting, and playing every chance they got. John Martin and Bill Guarnere even got themselves some tattoos. In the evenings, Nixon found himself in his lover’s bed, and during the days he was watching Emily. As far as Nixon knew, Emily hadn’t said anything to Harry regarding her feelings. But Nixon didn’t miss the forlorn looks she gave him. Nixon grit his teeth each time he saw her mooning over Harry’s turned back. That night in London Nixon realized that he cared deeply for Emily in a way that could never be realized. He was married. He was a rogue. She deserved so much more than being a mistress- stop. He had to stop himself there. He couldn’t afford to even entertain the idea. Let her pine for Harry. It was only a crush, a crush and nothing more. It wasn’t hurting anyone; at least no one but him. The reality was, Emily was young. She was beautiful and clever. One day she would meet someone and it would be more than just a crush. Their fight in London had sobered Nixon up. Not literally, but it made him check his own behavior. He didn’t want to fight with her again. He never wanted to make her cry again. If all they could be was friends and colleagues, he wanted to be the best friend and colleague she had. Once they returned to the continent their time together would be even more limited. Nixon was determined to make the most of it. That summer in Aldbourne they worked together more symbiotically than ever before. Nixon’s conscious patience combined with Emily’s keen intuition made their workdays go smoothly. This was beneficial for the American intelligence’s reputation in front of the Brits. The next drop onto the continent would take place in Holland. Operation Market Garden was the brainchild of British intelligence. Nixon didn’t want to sound like a snob so he wouldn’t admit that he was wary of their plan. But orders were orders so Nixon surrendered control. Though Operation Market garden was the strategic genius of the British, Nixon and his staff did a lot of the grunt work. Emily helped to identify drop zones and coordinated routes for the paratroopers to meet up with the British armory. It was a lot of work in a region Emily had never seen, nor would likely ever see. The plan was to drop into Holland near Eindhoven. This meant another troopship for Emily and overground travel through the seized territory. If everything went as it should, Emily would link up with Battalion headquarters just across the border in Germany. That was if everything was executed as the allies hoped. Summer wound down and the first chills of winter came with the falling leaves of September. Back in their old digs, Nixon sipped on a whiskey-laced cup of coffee. “Why are you being so nice to me lately?” Emily was working at her desk, using a ruler to draw a grid on a black and white map. “What do you mean? I’m always nice.” Emily lifted her pen from the map she was looking at to give him a look. “What? You want me to be mean?”

  “No, of course not,” she turned back to her paper, “but it’s weird.”  

“Why is it weird?”  

“I’m just not used to you like this.” “Like what?” “You have two versions.” Emily said, “smart Nix and grumpy Nix.” “Nice to hear you think I’m smart,” Nixon perched on the edge of his desk to watch her work. “Smart as in smart-ass,” she elaborated. “Well, that’s not very nice.” “I’m not the one being accused of being nice.” “Accused? You make nice sound like such a bad thing.” Emily giggled, “I do not! I’m just saying you’re out of character.” “Maybe war has changed me.” “I’m so glad you’re never dramatic.” Nixon raised his eyebrows over a sip of coffee, “If I’m dramatic it’s from spending time with you.” Emily stuck her tongue out at him. Nixon was about to retort when Lt. Colonel Strayer appeared in in the doorway, “Captain Nixon,” “Right,” Nixon sat his coffee down on his desk and followed Strayer out the door. Nixon shared a jeep with Strayer as far as the hanger outside Aldbourne. Winters stood in front of the Easy Company men assembled beneath a large map of Holland. Nixon took his place on Winters’ left and the lieutenants and sergeants fell in by rank behind him. Nixon noticed Emily’s handiwork on the stenciled letters above the hand-colored map. “This is called Operation Market Garden,” Winters presented, “in terms of Airborne Divisions involved, we’re dropping deep into occupied Holland.” Nixon scanned the faces of the men assembled before them. Without knowing the individuals, he could tell who had been in Normandy and who hadn’t; it was the difference of acceptance and anxiety. All of their serious faces hung on Winters’ every word, soaking up every detail of what was to come. As Winters finished his presentation some of the veteran’s expressions changed to ones of confusion. Nixon stepped forward, “the entire European advance has been put on hold to allocate resources for this operation. It’s Montgomery’s personal plan and we’ll be under British command.” Once Nixon finished the men filed out to prepare to jump the next day. “Old men and children?” Winters said over Nixon's shoulder.

Nixon looked over at his friend, “that’s what they’re telling us.” “And how reliable do you think the intelligence is?” Winters asked as they walked out of the hanger. Nixon rolled his jaw, “what can I say? It’s coming from the top.”  “It’s hard to believe this will end the war.”  “All we can do is hope for the best. Home by Christmas,” Nixon said. “Home by Christmas,” Winters repeated as if it were a mantra. That night Nixon couldn’t sleep though he needed to. They would be leaving for the airfield at first light. After an hour or so of staring at his ceiling, Nixon pulled on his boots, grabbed his flask, and walked downstairs. He didn’t know what he was seeking but he had to get out of his room. Nixon took a sip from his flask as he stepped into the hall. It seemed to stretch on forever in the darkness. He didn’t bother to screw the cap on his flask. He made his way down the carpeted steps drinking along the way. Nixon didn’t know where he was going as he wandered through the winding halls of the manor. It wasn’t until he was in front of her door that he realized he had walked to Emily’s room. He raised his hand to knock when the door swung open. “Oh!” Emily yelped in surprise then quickly pressed a hand over her mouth, “Lew, you startled me.”

“Uh, sorry,” Nixon said. Emily’s expression quickly morphed into concern, “is everything okay?” Nixon smoothed his hair down, realizing it was probably mussed from laying in bed. “oh yeah, I just was walking by and noticed your light on. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” “Oh,” Emily smiled suspiciously, “okay, well I’m going downstairs for some tea, you want to come?” Nixon hesitated, considering her offer, “uhh, no, that’s okay. Thanks.” “Okay, you sure?” Emily’s eyes flicked down at the flask in his hand. Nixon tightened his grip on it suddenly self conscious. “Yeah, gonna head to bed.” “Okay, well hey, if I don’t see you before,” she paused, not wanting to verbalize the goodbye. “I’ll see you over there,” Nixon nodded confidently at her. Unexpectedly, she reached out and took his empty hand. Nixon looked down at her grip and back up into her sweet face. She squeezed his hand, “I’ll see you over there, Lew.” It took all of his willpower to turn away from her. He walked slowly back down the dark hallway listening to her light steps fall away down the steps behind him.

#Band of Brothers #hbo band of brothers #fanfiction #original character #as far as friends go #lewis nixon #emily rooney #lewis nixon x oc #joe toye #george luz #dick winters #harry welsh #harry welsh x oc

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solarwindswriting · 3 years

Text

Oh, The Places You’ll Go

Chapter 3

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Loosely inspired by the song Greek Tragedy by the Wombats

Pairing: Scotty x FemalePresenting!Reader

Word Count: 1411

Summary: On to the Enterprise we go!

Warnings: none that I can think of

A/N: I posted this to the wrong account at first ahhhh. Sooo, this is going to be a bit of a slow burn. But I’ve already written up to part 6 and will be posting one part a day!

Tags: @mournthewicked @damalseer

Y/n wakes up to the most obnoxious beeping sounds. With a groan, she turns off the alarm, rubbing her eyes awake. Sitting up, Y/n looks around the room. Still dark outside. ‘Why am I up? Oh, right!’ Y/n thought to herself. Jumping out of bed, she clutches her dresser, bracing herself from falling. Dizzy, very very dizzy. She drank too much last night. Walking into the bathroom, and regretting turning on the light, Y/n got ready for the day. Washing off the grim from the last two days, Y/n relishes the warm water on her back. This will probably be the last time she gets to take a long shower.

Y/n is smoothing out her type b uniform shirt when she hears a knock at the door. The door was open by the time she got there and in the doorway stood Sara in her bright golden uniform shirt, a just as bright smile and a duffle across her back.

“You ready for the rest of your life, Y/n?” Sara rocks on her heels.

Still a bit groggy, Y/n hums to her friend while reaching for her own duffle, “How are you so awake? It’s 6:30 in the morning.”

“Because I’m already two cups of coffee in. Have you had breakfast?” Sara questions as the two make their way down the steps of their apartment.

“No, you’re not supposed to eat before a shuttle transport. You know that.” Y/n chuckles.

The two walk in comfortable silence. The train station was unsurprisingly quiet as they take their seats on the way to the shuttle bay.

“The new Enterprise is less than a year old. It’s outfitted with all the new shiny toys. I’m very excited to see the bridge. I heard they used a new transparent aluminum alloy for the main viewport that’s clearer than ever before.” Sara muses while watching the buildings pass.

A voice overhead announces we are arriving at the Federation shuttle bay. Y/n and Sara stand to leave. The train comes to a stop and the sliding doors open. Climbing up the stairs reveals a bustling hanger full of recruits.

“Sara, Y/n!” Calls the Russian accent of one Pavel Chekov. “This way!” He signals to follow him.

The two sprint to catch up to Pavel and separate into one of the Enterprise transport shuttles of their respective departments. Strapping her bag above them, Y/n takes a seat next to Commander Spock. People continue to file in. After about 30 minutes, 7 shuttles transport the entirety of the 450 person crew aboard the Enterprise.

“New Science Officers, please follow me,” Spock speaks clearly as he stands from his seat. Returning crew follows him out of the shuttle while the new members scurry to retrieve their bags. 5 new science officers in total exit the shuttle last, following Spock through the hallways.

“First, I will show you the 14 science labs and who will be heading them. Each one will have a specific topic of research, but all will help another when needed,” Spock drones while tapping a datapad. “Secondly, I will show you to your quarters.”

The halls of the Enterprise were bright white and smelled of mild cleaning supplies. They file into a turbo lift to deck 5. Y/n peaks at the other 4 new members of the science crew and notices she is the only one who has a rank higher than Ensign. Stepping off the turbo lift, The group makes their way down a hallway when Commander Spock stops.

“This is Lab 1; which will focus on stellar cartography as we travel deeper into space. It will be lead be Leuitenant Viann.” Spock motions towards the lab.

Inside stands a slender Vulcan setting up his lab. Spock continues to introduce the different labs and leaders, which Y/n quickly loses track of and begins to zone out. That is until Commander Spock says her name.

“To repeat myself, since Lieutenant Junior Grade Y/l/n has decided to check back in. Lab 13, focused on Bio-mimetic Gel and other potential medical substances, lead by one Lieutenant Junior Grade Y/l/n.”

“Yes, sorry Commander.” Y/n apologizes, now fully attentive.

“And lastly,” Spock continues to walk. “Lab 14, focused on gravimetric field displacement manifold, lead by Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott.”

Y/n looks into the lab and makes eye contact with Scotty, who gives her a small wave and a smile. She does the same. Spock goes back down the same hallway they just came from to lead the new crew towards their quarters. Y/n follows from the back, stopping for a second to look into the lab she will be working in. Far more state of the art than what she has been working in. Her studies will progress much fast on here.

Spock shows them to Deck 8, where they will be living for the next 5 years. The new ship supports enough room for every crew member to have their own room. Y/n throws her duffle onto her bed and unzips it to put her few civilian clothes into the closet that had 5 changes of uniform already hanging. A knock on the door echoed as Y/n hung her royal blue dress up.

“Come in,” Y/n calls over her shoulder.

The door slides open revealing a younger crewmate no older than 20 who quickly salutes. “Ma’am, Lieutenant Commander Scott requests your presence in Lab 14.”

“Thank you, but I am not high enough rank for you to be saluting, and I’m not old enough to be called ma’am,” Y/n chuckles, reaching out her arm. “What’s your name? I’m Y/l/n.”

“Very sorry, ma-, Y/l/n. I am Jason Reed.” He shakily takes her hand.

“First ship? Me too.” Y/n laments while she follows the ensign out of her room after grabbing her datapad. “Did Lieutenant Command Scott mention why he was requesting my assistance?”

“He mentioned something about some gel being delivered to the wrong lab?” Reed’s face contorted as he tried hard to remember his exact words.

“Huh, okay. Thank you for showing me the way. Lord knows I’ll be lost for the first month on here.” This causes Ensign Reed to chuckle.

The turbo lift doors open to Deck 5 and a slightly sweaty Scotty.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” Scotty huffs, “can you tell me why 5 crates of highly volatile goo were delivered to my lab?”

“Thank you for the escort, Reed. I believe I can find the way from here,” Y/n smiles at the ensign as the doors to the lift close after stepping out. “As for why the bio-mimetic gel was delivered to lab 14 instead of 13, I have no idea. But I’m happy to help you move it to my lab.”

“Well, let’s get going then, Lass,” Scotty says, turning and walking towards the labs.

“How does an engineer get access to a whole lab anyways?” Y/n questions.

“I came up with a fancy equation. How’d a Lieutenant Junior Grade get access to a whole lab?” Scotty’s accent was thick, but not as thick as it was when he was drinking.

“I came up with a fancy equation too,” Y/n laughs at herself repeating what the engineer had said.

After about half an hour of carefully moving crates of bio-mimetic gel, the two were finished.

“Sorry about the mix-up, Commander. It won’t happen again.” Y/n said, wiping her hands on the sides of her pants.

“I thought I told you to call me Scotty, lass.” Scotty remarks as he enters Lab 13 with two teacups, handing one to Y/n, “Earl Grey.”

“Thank you,” Y/n whispers, setting it down to hop up and sit on the lab table before picking it back up and taking a sip. “Please sit.”

Scotty sits in one of the chairs surrounding the lab table in front of Y/n. They both sip their tea in silence until Y/n speaks.

“So, I heard you were marooned on Delta Vega for half an Earth year.”

“Marooned!?” Scotty gawks as he sits up straight. “I was left for dead! You beam one beagle off-planet and you’re left for the drakoulias’.”

“Did you ever find it?” Y/n laughs at the engineer’s outburst.

“No,” Scotty whispers.

“Hm?”

“No! I never found that damn beagle.” Scotty laughs.

#scotty x reader #montgomery scott x reader #montgomery scott aos #montgomery scott imagine #star trek aos #solarwindswriting

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pro-fangirls-unsocial-life · 3 years

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The Duty of a Captain

A/N: Hello everyone! I would like to introduce you all to Doc. One of my ocs! I know that I usually post a character “outline” first, but I really felt like introducing him this way would be the best. If you guys want to know more about him after this, please feel free to ask! I love getting questions about my ocs! Also a big thank you to @captainrexisboo and @bad-batch-of-fics for listening to me ramble on about Doc while I was making this!

Length: ~1300 words

Warnings: mentions of death but nothing too serious for Doc... yet😇😈

Finally.

It was finally over. Another battle that should have had minimal losses that turned into a massacre. Over half of the battalion, nearly eight thousand men, killed because of the actions of one person.

No one dared to disagree. They were all too terrified to even think of challenging the direct orders from their general. So, they marched forward into the battle. Some holding out hope that this time, it would be different. All knowing that it wouldn’t be.

Doc didn’t know why he felt hope this time. He had no reason to. He had no reason to believe that this time would be any different. But something told him that he would survive and that something big was going to happen and that when it did, it would be a good thing.

Something big had happened, but it was far from being anything good. Seeing all of the destruction and misery and death as he walked through the aftermath of the battlefield, Doc couldn’t shake the hopeful turned anxious thought from the back of his mind.

Why hadn’t the feeling gone away? Was losing so much not enough? Did their effort to win this planet fail? Was there still a battle to be fought?

“CT-5770,” a voice boomed out, pulling Doc from his thoughts.

Doc shook his head and looked around, his eyes falling upon the Jedi who was storming up to him. He straightened his back and pulled his helmet of, bringing it to his side. “Yes General,” he acknowledged.

A datapad was shoved into his chest, his hand scrambling up to grasp it. “I want these requisitions for new clones done first thing! Then I want the mission report so that I may look over it before addressing the Jedi council. You may continue with your other work once that has been finished,” he finished with a dismissive wave before turning and walking away.

“Wha- I,” Doc began sputtering. “Wait, General Krell! I don’t understand!”

Krell stopped and turned to look at him with disgust. “And what don’t you understand you feeble minded clone?”

Doc straightened again and swallowed. “I- I don’t understand. I’m just a private sir.”

Krell’s lips turned up into a snarl-like smile making Doc have to suppress a shiver. “Not anymore. Congratulations,” he said as he turned. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, the grim smile not yet leaving his face. “-Captain.”

“Captain,” he shakily breathed out.

All at once, the realization of what had happened came crashing down onto Doc. His mind began to spiral as he thought about all the men that had to have died for him to have been promoted to captain. Every lieutenant. Every sergeant. Every corporal. He wasn’t even one of the highest-ranking privates. How many of them had died along with the others? And the captain. The captain he had been serving under for almost four months now. The captain that everyone thought was going to last.

He had been promoted from lieutenant after a battle all to similar to this one. A battle that had cost them countless lives when it should have cost them barely any.

Doc looked down at the datapad he was clutching in his hand, his breath coming out in a sharp exhale. He was shaking.

No. No, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. He was just a private. He was just a clone. He’s nothing. He is not worth enough to be a captain.

Slowly, Doc looked up to find the visors of all the troopers around him focused on his face. One by one, they all removed their helmets to reveal their eyes that were filled with sorrow and “I’m so sorry”’s.

They all knew what being captain meant. It was a death sentence for whoever was unwillingly promoted to the position, especially when the one taking it up had not been given any kind of specialty trooper training.

Doc looked back down at his still shaking hand, taking a breath as he tries to come to grips with his new reality. He was so distracted by his thoughts, that he did not hear the light footsteps that approached him from the side.

“Sir,” a small voice questioned beside him.

He turned, seeing the face of a shinie that had been sent to the 904th just three weeks ago.

He hadn’t earned his paint yet but, looking at all of the men in the 904th, you wouldn’t be able to tell that any of them had.

All they were allowed was a single blood red line down the center of their helmets and an outline around their visor. After all, that’s all that was needed to identify that they were a part of the infamous 904th battalion. The battalion that won so many battles under the command of Jedi General Pong Krell. The battalion that lost more men than any other.

Doc shook his head. “What is it,” he asked, trying to keep his voce steady as he gazed at the terrified trooper in front of him.

“He’s just a kid,” he thought. “Can’t be older than eighteen physically.”

He was one to talk. He was only twenty. Because men were lost so regularly, Kamino would send thousands of new troopers to replace them, each time the men arriving becoming younger and younger.

The shinie had yet to say anything. His eyes now finding solace on the ground at his feet.

Doc switched the datapad in his left hand over to the one that had been holding his helmet at his side. He placed a hand on the shinies shoulder, prompting him to look up at Doc. “What is it trooper?” He kept his voice low and soft, trying his best to offer what little comfort he could.

The shinie sniffled, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. “W-What do we do now? I-I mean,” he stuttered, trying to strengthen his voice. “What are your orders, sir?”

Doc looked around at the men who had now surrounded them, all of them with an expectant look on their tired faces. He lightly squeezed the shoulder of the man in front of him before stepping back and taking a deep breath.

“We are going to gather all of the field equipment and bring it to the gunships. Everyone try to find,” he stopped for a moment, feeling his chest tightening at what he was about to say. “Everyone try to find what is left of your squads and carry out your usual post-battle orders. And then,” he looked around, making sure that Krell was not within earshot. He lowered his voice slightly. “Once we get back to the ship, the older troopers will quietly give the shinies the geode protocol. Congratulations to all of you.” He gave a soft smile, trying to reassure the saddened men around him. “You have all just earned your paint.”

With that he gave them all a nod and put his helmet on. They all began to move away and group up with the remanence of their squads.

Doc watched them. Seeing them group together and look around at the few troopers that remained. Putting their helmets on and foreheads together, silently crying for the brothers that they had all lost before moving to complete their orders.

It was then Doc decided something. He would not let this keep happening. He felt all of his pain and anger bubbling up inside of him. He may not have wanted this position, but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to use it. He would be damned if he did not try and save as many of his brothers as possible.

He took a deep breath and looked up to the sky, closing his eyes. “I promise,” he thought. “I promise I will make you all proud.”

He nodded to himself, solidifying his promise to his fallen brothers. Then, bringing the datapad in his hand up to reading level, he began his work.

#my oc #clone trooper oc #clone trooper doc #doc #my writing #the duty of a captain #CT-5770

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yourdorkiness · 3 years

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More Fire Force Opinions That Literally Nobody Asked For (pt.2)

Guess who finished the manga~ Guess who finished the manga~ This gal~ I’m surprised that my Fire Force rant/essay meta was so well received by the fandom, thank you guys so much!!! Anyways, today I’ll be discussing some a lot of my ideas, opinions, thoughts, future predictions, and commentary on moments from the Fire Force manga.

Warnings: Spoilers for future Fire Force Season Two arcs, and for the Fire Force manga. Read at your own discretion! Now that the warnings are over, onwards! ヽ(ヅ)ノ

(I’m actually trying to order my opinions via arcs, but I feel that this is really important, so I’m putting it first.)

1. There are no iPhones in the Fire Force.

This is so sad? My favourite characters don’t know the joy that is staying up late, scrolling through social media, watching YOUTUBE, having MEMES, KNOWING👏THE👏GREATNESS👏THAT👏IS👏VINES!!!

I’m slightly disappointed that Vulcan, who is literally named after the god of forging himself, who can make frickin’ HOLOGRAMS, didn’t bring back any of the pre-Catalysm technology to recreate, improve, or experiment with. As an expert engineer (I say this 0.2% seriously, with the two years of high school engineering course experience under my belt), I would’ve been interested to see what kind of gadgets Vulcan could whip up. *insert ‘Inspector Gadget theme song*

Please have this very sad Jigglypuff to show how sad this is.

2. Sister Iris and Religion in the Fire Force Storyline

In the beginning of the Fire Force series, I’ve accepted the fact that Iris' role as noncombatant, meant to act as the religious and public face of the Eighth Company. I think it is a fascinating role, because it allows the story to explore the idea of religion and belief in depth, which I was really looking forward to. I was excited how the author would handle Iris’ character, but I’m somewhat disappointed that it took so long for us to see Iris and other side characters like Maki and Tamaki become more fleshed out (I’m not counting Iris’ and Hibana’s backstory in Season 1. I felt that was more backstory to flesh out Hibana’s character rather than Iris’).

Throughout Fire Force’s story, some of the things I looked forward to the most were the religious elements, motifs, themes, and questions that are sprinkled throughout the story, one of my favourites being the portrayal of the dichotomy of religion. In Joker’s backstory, we see the darkness of the Holy Sol faith, and what happens when any religious belief is taken TOO far, without any regard for human life or rights. This idea of viewing humans as a collective, no regard for the individuality and feelings of a single person in the pursuit of faith is embodied by the captain of the Shadow of the Holy Sun, Joker’s former captain and abuser. However, we also get to see the goodness religion and belief can achieve in Iris’ mini arc, which focuses on Iris’ internal struggle as she struggles with her faith after being informed of the Evangelist’s part in the founding of the Holy Sol’s religion. Shinra and Huo Yan Li, the bucket hat 1st Brigade lieutenant (Seriously, which is the correct way to pronounce this guy’s name? Huo Yan Li?? Foien Li???) interaction in the Iris arc really summed up the arc and Iris’ character beautifully. Religion and belief gives people closure, hope, and strength to keep on moving forward. Seeing the anime adaption was an amazing experience. Fire Force’s animation was the reason I decided to watch it in the first place (before staying for the intriguing plot and religious side plot), but this particular episode?? Pure art. The colouring, ambience, storytelling? So good＼\ ٩( ᐛ )و /／

Like, the little detail of the burning nun in Iris’ eyes? (lmao sorry for the extra trauma, sweet child) *chef’s kiss*

The importance of belief is also hinted in the Asakusa arc, where all the district’s inhabitants believe in Benimaru, and expanded upon in later manga chapters, when we learn that Adolla is linked to humanity’s perception and beliefs about the world around them.

I would’ve liked Iris a lot more if we got to further explore her character and the affects of religion on others more deeply, perhaps see Iris visiting the Infernals’ families and loved ones, trying to help give closure through the nation’s (mostly) shared faith in Sol. They mentioned offhandedly in both anime and manga that Iris visits the deceased’s families, and I felt it would’ve given the deaths more significance and depth if we get screentime of how families are affected by the death of their loved ones. It would have also given the Holy Sol’s religion more depth and meaning if we saw believers of Sol’s actions due to their religion, (also giving more impact when we learn surprise surprise! The Holy Sol temple is founded by the Evangelist!) since belief without actions is just lip-service.

I would have also liked to see how Iris’ prayers affect others in the Eighth company. We do get to see this, 140+ CHAPTERS LATER in the mini Iris arc does Shinra (finally) mentions how Iris’ prayers helps him not lose sight of why he serves as a firefighter and kills Infernal. I’m glad that we got this scene, because better later than never, especially since Iris’ and Shinra’s discussion and overall the entire Iris mini arcs shows the power of prayer, but I would’ve like to have this topic discussed sooner.

2. Obi’s Sole Flaw

I think that Obi was an okay character, but they kind of pushed the boundary of his “normalcy” when we saw him topple pillars and rip railways out of the ground with “brute strength”. There are limits to the human body, it is fragile, and it doesn’t matter how much conditioning or “going beyond your limits” you do. People do experience boost of adrenaline, which is probably what the very anime-like titled “Pressure of Death” is based on, since life or death situations can heighten your performance and strength. However, I do understand that this IS shonen, and it isn’t meant to be realistic.

What made Obi’s sole flaw (and a physical flaw, at that!) was his “normalcy” while surrounded by more powerful individuals then he, and having to make up for something he can’t help by working twice as hard as everybody else. Now, although I was disappointed that Obi didn’t have any character/moral flaws, what made Obi’s character mediocre to me wasn’t the choice of Obi’s sole flaw. In fact, I could see how this could be an interesting character narrative IF WE LEARN MORE ABOUT OBI’S BACKSTORY, THEREFORE EXPLORING HIS CHARACTER MORE!!! (We only know Obi was a regular firefighter, being decorated twice, and then having his titles revoked for prioritizing the lives of citizens before becoming the captain of the Eighth.) No, what I didn’t like about Obi’s character is that we never see him STRUGGLE with his flaw, how others were born “superior” to him thanks to there invulnerability to flames, how he lives knowing one day he could just burst into flames. There’s SO many interesting things about Obi’s character, that could explained further, making him so much more interesting!!!

On the other hand, Obi’s character is a great role model for what a “normal” person can do (while jacked up on adrenaline, and when they manage to overcome flight reaction in fight or flight). He works hard, training to the best of his ability, doing what he CAN do, pushing his limits so that he can go above and beyond, overcoming the “Pressure of Death”, and staying true to his ideals, something very hard to do in a world where you might burst into flames at any given moment. I know that if I were to wake in a world where I could die any second (I mean, I could die tomorrow in Real Life™, but what are the chances of that?), I would definitely find myself struggling with my faith, and staying true to the morals I admire and was taught by my parents, especially if I was putting myself in danger despite of this weakness.

3. Asakusa Showdown Arc and Shinmon Hibachi

The Asakusa Showdown arc. Yes. Just yes. I-

It was amazing, periodt. The art, the overall aesthetic, the storytelling. *Cue violent fangirling* I took SOOOO many screenshots of the fight between Benimaru and Hibachi, I’m pretty sure my camera roll is 95% manga caps now. I love how the author actually gave a (fairly) valid reason for the cool Japanese aesthetic of this arc, in that Adolla is slowly gradually colliding with the Fire Force universe, causing people’s perception of the fight to seep into the universe. Overall? It. Was. Amazing. Albeit not my favourite arc, (that honour goes to the mini-Iris arc) I think that the Asakusa Showdown arc is easily in my Top 5 Fire Force arcs.

The Asakusa Showdown Arc mirroring and showing the ideals taught in the Mini Iris Arc was quite clever, though I’m not sure if this was purposefully done Okubo, or if I’m just scrabbling at crumbs.

In the Mini Iris arc, we see how religion and belief gives closure; a stark contrast to Asakusa with its proto-nationalist/atheist values. In THIS arc, centering around Asakusa and it’s proto-nationalist inhabitants, we see what happens when there isn’t enough effort to emphasize or give closure in what happened to Hibachi, and his subsequent death.

Shinmon Hibachi, as the leader of the neighbourhood fire watch, understood the significance of killing Infernals; of taking somebody’s life. But because of the unwillingness to let others (i.e. the inhabitants of Asakusa, that one kid who stabs him) understand the weight of killing Infernals and gain closure through understanding the reasons behind his harsh actions, Hibachi shoulders the consequences of both his and the actions of his predecessors’ ALONE, therefore leading to his demise.

The kid who stabbed Hibachi was still a CHILD, and children don’t always have a comprehensive understanding of death and the consequences of responsibility (no matter how much that kid believes he was ready to be an adult and support his mother).

3.5 Extra Worldbuilding Questions About Asakusa

I also have so many questions about Asakusa in general! How is Asakusa powered without being supported by Amaterasu, which is the country’s (and isn’t that mind boggling, that a whole country is supported by one power source with no backup source or other forms of energy/electricity, because of patriotic pride in a machine that might one day shut down, cough manga readers where u at?) I’m assuming that Asakusa mainly use coal, candles, and lamps for energy and lighting, since we did see one example of lighting in Asakusa (an ancient oil lamp), but I’m not sure if that would be sufficient to support a whole district of people. People were able to do that in the olden days, but back then there was a smaller concentration of people, and power necessary to support them.

Is Asakusa a district that is mostly atheist or polytheist? Do the inhabitants believe in no gods, not just the Sun god brought by the White Clads and Raffles I, including the Shinto or Buddhist gods from before the Catalysm, or do they believe in multiple gods/ancestor worship and they just don’t want to worship the Sun God like the rest of the Tokyo Empire because they’re unwilling to accept the new culture, immigrants and religion caused by Amaterasu, wanting to keep up the old Japanese traditions?

4. Arthur Deserves Better Parents 2k20 (Hint of Arthur’s Secret Ability?)

When Team Vulcan + Arthur found Arthur’s parents in the sewers Nether... Honestly, I don’t want to touch on them much, since I want to be (fairly) logical in my opinions on them, not letting my personal feelings twist my hypotheses for what may happen in the future of the Fire Force storyline.

Putting aside Arthur’s parents obvious neglect and bad parenting, I’m curious if Arthur's dad is actually a prophet or did he just get lucky with his delusions. Is this related to how Arthur can notice the difference between dopplegangers and real people? Perhaps because Arthur’s delusions of knighthood are so different from how he truly is (an abandoned child who deluded himself as a knight), therefore allowing him to notice the difference between dopplegangers and Adolla, as they are created by people’s perception of a subject.

5. Let Sho Be a Normal Kid at the End of the Show 2k20

Please let the small child be happy at the end of the manga. I mean, being raised by a cult underground isn’t exactly a Hallmarks childhood. For example, in the beginning of chapter 231, look at how Sho looks longingly at those kids on scooters and was so happy when he got a balloon from the firefighter mascots! (bruh, same balloons bring me so much joy)

I hope that in the end of the manga Okubo lets Sho, Shinra, and Eighth have some quality time. In one of the early arcs (with the first speaking demon, Minamoto?) Shinra saw some kids going to school wearing school uniforms, mentioning that if Sho was still alive, he’d be old enough to go to school. I’d be so sweet if at the end of the manga, Sho would have the chance to go to school, maybe the Fire Force academy (if it’s still running if by the end of the manga they’ve discovered the reason behind Human Combustion), makes friends and beat up anybody who badmouths the Eighth.

6. Cool Combat Medics!

I’d love to see more of the cool combat medics from the Sixth! We only saw the captain, Kayoko Huang, in action with her Asclepius staff pyrokinesis, which, might I add is a fascinating and terrifying ability. Think about it, she’s controlling CELLULAR DIVISION!!! She could start creating tumors in the bodies of her enemies! Could disintegrate people cellularly and no one would know, because fire snake, so no fingerprints!

Anyways, that is all I have right now. Thank you for reading my opinions about “Fire Force”, and for the nice response I got when I published my first opinion piece! Bruh, it took so long for me to edit this... 😔 I’m thinking of doing another meta going more in depth with my theory on Arthur and how he’s able to distinguish the difference between people and their dopplegangers, but that’s for another day. Feel free to discuss about your own ideas or thoughts in the chat, or tell me what you think! I promise I don’t bite. Have a wonderful day!

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 3 years

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Mages Don’t Meddle

Rating: M

Genre: Angst/Mild Fluff

Word count: 16091

Summary: In a world where magic users must fear each other, Baz Pitch, a British born hex hiding in the 19th century American southwest, is just trying to stay alive. But when he meets a fellow British hex, his world is turned upside down in the most awful, amazing ways possible. PLEASE READ FIRST AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!!

Read on AO3

AN: Alright some of you may know that my favourite book series of all time is The Hexslinger Series by Gemma Files. It’s a gory but brilliant horror/dark fantasy weird western trilogy about gay cowboy wizards fighting Aztec gods. (It's also where my AO3 username comes from). I've been writing this AU on and off for like two years now lol. So when I saw this event, I saw it as motivation to finally finish it. And I did! Idk how many people are gonna like this, considering the obscurity of the books. The mythos is a bit complicated so here are the basic rules of the Hexslinger world:

1. Magic users exist, called "hexes" or "hexslingers” by most English speakers. They’re commonly known of and feared by some humans because of their immense, usually unstable power. Their magic is usually called "hexation" and a common descriptor for anything to do with them is "hexacious." Being a hex can either be passed down from parent to child or appears randomly. Most are children of a hex man and a human woman as pregnancy for a hex woman can be very risky to mother and child, but it's still possible.

2. Hexes aren’t usually born having magic. Their powers manifest at some point later in their lives except in very rare circumstances. For women it usually appears after their first period, while for men it’s usually after some sort of grievous bodily harm, e.g getting hanged or beaten. Before manifestation, some hexes show no sign of magic at all, while others have hints like perfect aim or weirdly good luck. It depends on the person and their power level.

3. Hex magic varies between people based on personality, culture, family history, and power level/type. For example, an experienced Chinese born hex with refined power will have a very different kind of magic than a newly manifested American born hex with more chaotic power. (That’s literally just from the original books lol.) Even hexes similar in multiple aspects can be completely different in the way their magic is expressed.

4. The only universal trait between hexes is that they all have the urge to feed off each other’s magic. They’re like magic vampires (wink wink). If they get too close to each other, they have the immediate urge to absorb the other's power and kill them. It’s completely instinctual and very hard to resist. Hence why hexes can’t be around each other. Or, to use the common phrase from the universe, “mages don’t meddle.”Okay that's the basics. There's A LOT of other stuff but I think that's all you need to know for this fic imo.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: So there's some period typical racism scattered around due Baz being brown in the 19th century American south. It's not too harsh imo but I still want to warn people. I hope I handled it alright, considering I'm a white af Canadian Irish-Jew, but if I didn't I'm very sorry. There's also a bit of period typical homophobia at the start. The closest I get to slurs is the use of "red" and "Indian" in reference to Indigenous people, "queer" in a negative context, references to sand because Baz says he's Egyptian, and Baz being called "darker folk." I felt it would be disingenuous to not include bigotry of the past and pretend things would be all okay for a queer POC like Baz. Especially since Hexslinger itself has major themes of homophobia, racism, and not being accepted in the majority of society. A few mentions of suicide, self harm, and torture too in relation to hex powers emerging too, which is also major in Hexslinger. The series itself is pretty brutal and dirty with lots of bigotry, blood, guts, and death. So those elements have gotten in here. There is some flesh burning stuff but I don't think it's that graphic, feels pretty typical for Carry On imo. Hopefully this all works well/makes sense.

As always, big thanks to Raegan of @carryonmylovelies Now with that all out of the way, enjoy!

———————————————

I gingerly take a sip of my whiskey. It's a horrible rotgut shite, but there’s worse stuff out in the wild west. This Slipfoot Joe’s seems to be okay by my now very, very low standards for this area.

“Well well, if it ain’t a pretty red boy,” the man behind me croons. His voice makes evey inch of my skin crawl.

I let out a deep sigh. I’ve been expecting this, but I’m still not pleased. “Piss off, arsehole.”

“Oh! Didn’t know Indians could sound English!”

“I’m British Egyptian, you twit.”

The man leans on the bar, smiling wide. It’s easier to count the few teeth he has than guess how many he’s lost. “What brings your sandy ass to our great country?”

The Call. The unending Call that signals all of us to come here.

I take another long sip. “Your gorgeous face, obviously. How much do you charge? I’ve heard American men are cheaper here than in England.”

The man reels back scowling. “You think I’m some queer?!”

“Well, I assumed so. Considering you were just flirting with me, a man.”

He snarls, whipping out his pathetic little pistol. The barrel shakes nonstop. “You got some nerve, boy!”

I finish the whiskey and delicately place the glass rim first on the filthy bar. “And you’re a racist bastard. You don’t see me getting all pissy.”

The gunshot happens in slow motion for me. I don’t even need to turn. I simply hold one hand in front of me and let my magic pour from me like a dragon’s breath. It curls out in front of me, a circle of blacks and charcoal greys and burning scarlets. Every hex’s magic is different. Mine is like a constant roaring fire, always threatening to consume me.

The bullet hits the shield with a tinny clink. Racist Man is frozen with wide, terrified eyes. I turn to him, orange and red reflecting in my grey eyes.

“You- You’re... a hex?!” He splutters.

“Thought that was pretty bloody obvious. Now go, before I drink your blood.”

Racist Man and his buddy scamper out of the tavern. I let the force field dissipate, crackling and popping in the air like a dying campfire. Joe, the bartender and eponymous Slipfoot, sighs as he cleans another glass.

“You know,” Joe says, “I’ve met other hexes. They’re stupid reckless assholes but they ain’t ever drank blood. Just suck each other’s magic.”

I chuckle. “Well they don’t know that, do they?”

“No, lucky for you. What’s a Brit like you even doin’ here anyway?”

My mouth presses into a thin line. I envy him. He can't hear The Call from that damned Hex City. I heard it all the way in Washington, and before I knew it I was on a train southeast. The only reason I haven’t actually gone to the horrid place is sheer stubbornness.

“I’m a hex. Where else would I be going?”

Joe freezes. He stares at me with more concern than fear. “I’d be careful, son. Those hexes I met? One of them was Reverend Rook himself. He’s beyond bad news, ‘specially with that heathen goddess by his side.”

“I know.” I trace my finger on the old wood, trying to focus on that instead of the ringing in my head. “But what choice do I have?”

———————————————

1867, two years after America’s bloody civil war, and it seems they’re about to be plunged into a new one. Except it won’t be slavery versus abolition this time, but humans versus magic.

The news has spread like wildfire. In the final days of the war, a confederate soldier and unofficial chaplain named “Reverend” Asher Rook was sentenced to hang for abandoning his regiment. But he survived, and the suffering of the ordeal caused his hex powers to emerge. Rumour has it one Bible verse from his lips can level an entire town. Rook decided to use his new powers to steal and murder his way through the west, aided by his ruthless gunslinging lieutenant (and rumoured lover) Chess Pargeter.

He should’ve been just another hex outlaw for those American Pinkertons to take down. But somehow, a mere month ago, Rook made a pact with an Aztec goddess. And together they’ve created New Azteclan, or Hex City to the common man. According to the magical homing signal I hear, that every hex hears, it’s a place where hexes can lose their insatiable urge to feed off each other’s magic. We’ll no longer have to be loners by nature, picked off one by one by humanity. We could be together. We could be safe.

But at what cost? Nothing in life comes without a cost. I know that too well. My magic cost me my home, my family, and a good part of my sanity. I’d do anything to not be a danger to others anymore. And the possibility is right there. All I need to do is go further south and cross the border into Mexico to reach Hex City. But once I do that, there’s no going back. The temptation of the Call will be too strong. And whatever price The Reverend wants, he’ll get it from me.

I sit at the fire, chewing on some absolutely horrific jerky. I’m trying to focus on the flames instead of the voice in my head. I’m not sure whose it is. Maybe Rook’s, maybe his witch goddess’. It doesn’t have a discernible tone, just sort of an indistinct everyman sound, or a thousand voices speaking the same thing. Either way, it’s very annoying.

Come, it whispers. Come seek out Ixchel, the Mother of Hanged Men. Come stand before Her priest-king, to offer up your service. Come to build the First City of the Sixth World- the world of wonder, the world of power. Come, and join New Azteclan.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I shout into emptiness, slamming the side of my head with my fist.

“I haven’t said anything yet,” someone replies weakly.

I bolt up. My magic roars to life inside me, a fireball forming in the palm of my hand. “Who said that?!”

The man slowly steps out of the darkness. He must be no older than myself, with his young, round freckled face. He has curly bronze hair, capped by an old second hand cowboy hat. His brown leather coat, plaid shirt, riding boots, and jeans are all filthy with desert dirt. A horse with saddle bags stands behind him. His blue eyes are wide and nervous. I notice a smell on him. Like green fire and smoke, with a strong scent of something brown and sweet. He smells like something I would gladly eat.

He’s a hex.

“Don’t you dare come any closer, you prick,” I say between gritted teeth. “I won’t hesitate to burn you to a crisp.”

The other boy shakes his head. “I’m not here to drain you. I...I just wanted to ask for some help.” He sounds British like me, but more rough and nervous, stumbling over his words.

“Yeah, right. Do I look that gullible? ‘Mages don’t meddle.’ We’d all drain each other dry if we were given the chance.”

He sighs heavily. “Well, of course I want to by instinct, but I’m not going to. I was just wondering if you had any food. All of mine got stolen by some angry humans.”

I consider just turning him away, or draining his magic and leaving his dried out corpse for the vultures. But he looks so desperate. How long has this young man been out here alone? My aunt had always warned me to be wary of all other hexes. We’re a bloodthirsty species, Basil. Never trust another hex, ever. Not even me. But I’m not my aunt.

I sit down again. “Fine. You can have some jerky. Just don’t come too close alright? I’d like to keep my magic and soul where they are, please.”

The man smiles (he has a nice smile) and sits opposite me at the fire. I throw a bag of jerky, and he catches in one hand. He shoves it in his mouth like a ravenous animal.

“So,” I say, “what’s your name?”

“Simon Snow,” he rep;ies, mouth still half full. “Your’s?”

“Baz Pitch.” Simon chuckles a bit, and I frown. “What’s so funny?

“Well, Baz Pitch is a pretty ridiculous name.”

“No more ridiculous than Simon Snow,” I snap. “What, were you named by circus performers?”

“Maybe. Not sure, actually.” Snow looks at the fire, but it feels like he’s looking right through it, his gaze very far away.

“Why’s that?”

Simon shakes his head. “Hey, are you going to Hex City?”

I huff, blowing some loose, dirty hair out of my eyes. I’m too tired to stop him from changing the subject. “I don’t know. Are you?

He shrugs. “Maybe. So far I am. The stories and Call do make it sound so wonderful.”

I scoff loudly. “Of course they do. Rook wants people to come. Then we’ll get there and be sacrificed to his bloodthirsty goddess. That’s probably what happened to Pargeter. No one’s heard from him lately, according to the locals.”

“But we’ll lose the hunger! What if the Reverend just wants us to be safe? Y’know, as a kindness to his own people.”

“No one does anything out of kindness, Snow. Least of all hexes.”

“You gave me food out of kindness, didn’t you?”

I glare at him over the flames. He shrugs with a faint smile. Fuck. He has a really nice smile.

“I’m going to sleep,” I mutter. “But I’m putting a shield around me. Touch it and you’ll be burned alive. So don’t get any ideas about taking my magic.”

Simon throws his hands up in innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I lay down on my pallet, throwing up my force field. The crackle and hiss of magic around me distracts from the beautiful mage no more than seven feet from me. Whom I’m not sure I want to kiss or kill. Maybe both.

———————————————

I wake when the sun's centre in the sky. I’m breathing, so this Simon Snow hasn’t drained me dry. That’s good, I guess.

I sit up bleary eyed. Snow is passed out on his own cot, drooling profusely with his mouth wide open (mouth breather). He’s put up his own shield, of course, (at least he’s somewhat sensible). It sort of looks like an electrical explosion, white bolts constantly combusting around him in bubble form. He smells so powerful. It’s taking all of my willpower to not hurt him. To not submit to my basic hex desires.

I take my sweet time to pack my things and douse the fire pit, secretly hoping Simon will wake up before I run out of excuses. Luckily, with a very loud snort, Snow bolts upwards. There’s terror in his eyes, and his breath is uneven and shallow. I know that look. I’m no stranger to nightmares myself.

“A good morning to you, Snow,” I say.

Simon lets out a long breath, waving a hand to dissolve his shield. “You didn’t kill me.”

“And you didn’t kill me. What a miracle.”

“I’ll say. Are you leaving?”

“Obviously.”

“Where to?”

I sigh heavily. “Well, my map says, there’s a town southeast from here. I haven’t been there before but it probably isn’t too bad. I was going to hide there for at least a bit.”

Simon picks at his nail beds, even though they’re already ragged and bloody. “Can I...can I come with you? I haven’t been around anyone in so long, y’know. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to”

I look at him with the most neutral gaze I can muster. “Are you going to kill me?”

He shrugs. “Haven’t killed you yet, have I?”

“There’s still time.”

Simon stands up, brushing the dust off his pants. “Alright, then I’ll make myself very clear. Baz, I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to fight you at all, alright?”

I must admit that I’ve been lonely these few months in the desert. Hell, I’ve been lonely for the past few years. I’ve actually missed the company of others. But it’s not like humans or hexes want to be around me. Except for this one, it seems. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. If we don’t kill each other first that is.

“Alright, fine. Just don’t try anything or I’ll burn you from the inside out.”

Simon keeps smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

We mount our horses and ride off. I try to keep my eyes ahead instead of on Snow.

———————————————

“I can’t believe the food here,” Snow says. “It’s so much more spicy than in the North.”

“We are closer to Mexico, Snow,” I reply. I’m trying to figure out our route, while also listening to Snow when he’s more than six feet away. The hunger is manageable from this distance. Mostly.

“Well, yeah, but it’s so insane! Why can’t the north people get some spice from here? It would make their chicken more tolerable. London street food was awful but at least it had some flavour!”

That makes me snort out a laugh no matter how much I try not to. Snow grins at me, and his face is literal sunshine. Why must he be so perfect? It’s not fair. “London street food? You mean fish and chips? Those aren’t half bad, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Snow’s tawny face gets a little pink. He rubs the back of his slightly sunburnt neck. “Y-Yeah, they weren’t too bad. Just...other stuff was terrible...”

“Like what?” It’s not late at night now. I’m less inclined to let his dodging go. Call me crazy, but I’d like to know about the man I’m travelling with.

“Um...” He looks down at his horse’s neck. “I-I lived on the London streets, literally, until I was old enough to work for room and board. Finding anyone who would house a hex though, that was a challenge.”

His laugh is tinny and hollow. My heart, or what dark horrible mass we hexes have in place of one, twists at the words. I wish I was surprised. His story is all too familiar.

“You don’t need to be ashamed,” I say firmly. “We all have our own rough pasts. It’s practically required for hexes, in my eyes.”

Snow doesn’t look up, but his (pretty) plain blue eyes flick over to me. “Really?”

I nod. “Yes, of course. Hexes are usually shunned and harmed. Finding one who hasn’t been in a dire situation is more rare.”

“Have you met a lot of hexes?”

“Some. Mostly, I’ve heard stories. Far too many are like your’s.”

“Is your’s?”

My grip on the reins is so tight my knuckles are going pale. Memories rush through my head no matter how much I want to stop them. The darkness, the pain, the fire, then the stench of burnt human flesh, all capped off by years of trying to survive on my own.

“Unfortunately, ye-”

“What the fuck?!”

Simon’s screech is ungodly in volume and tone. His horse lets out a similarly panicked bray. She bucks up, but can’t get very high with the red vines tangled around her legs.

“Oh fuck,” I hiss. I try to pull back my own horse, but his legs are similarly wrapped up. The vines circle up and around us. I kick and stamp them with all my might. The blood red flowers look like the gaping mouths of monsters.

“What the fuck are these things?!” Snow bellows. He tries to rear his horse back, but nearly throws himself backwards off his saddle instead. “Fucking shite!”

“Don’t do that, Snow, it won’t help!”

“Then what should I do?!”

“Just stay still!”

Thankfully, Snow does as I say. Not thankfully, I’m not sure what to do. I know that human blood gets rid of the Weeds, but even if I count as human in this regard, you need a relatively large amount of it. So unless I want to pass out, I’ll need to think of something else. But what else can curb evil bloodthirsty Aztec plants?

“Baz!” Snow’s horse pancis the more the weeds wrap around her, which makes Snow panic in turn. He looks at me with desperate wide eyes. “Baz, do something!”

Oh, fuck it. I’ll solve this the way I solve my other problems.

I reach deep within myself, down to the flames that burn in what’s hopefully my soul, or at least what hexes have instead. I grab that power and let it out through my arm. Fire roars to life in the palm of my hand, and I unleash the full force of it on the Weeds. A tidal wave of blackened-red flames engulf the plants.

“Jesus Christ!” Simon shouts. The plants don’t burn per se, I’m not sure they even can. But they still shrink away from us. I keep pushing more magic out until they Weeds a good distance away.

“Run,” I say, “now!”

Snow and I both wrench our horses 180 degrees and run like the wind. We ride fast and far with no destination, but we keep each other in sight. Only when my pulse is no longer hammering in my ears do I start to slow down. Snow follows, and eventually we stop near a large tree. All four of us are breathing hard.

“Bloody hell,” Snow says. “W-What the fuck were those?”

“Red Plague Weeds,” I reply, dismounting my horse. “They’ve been popping up all around here. No one knows where they come from, but we’re all pretty sure they have something to do with Rook and his witch goddess. Just like every other bizarre thing nowadays.”

“How come I haven’t seen them before in the towns?”

“Because the way to get rid of the Weeds permanently is blood, Snow.”

Snow’s eyes go wide with horror. “Blood? Any blood?”

I sadly shake my head. “No, only fresh human blood. I’ve heard a bowl full collected from the townsfolk is good enough. I don’t even know if hex blood counts. No one’s ever tried, as far as I know. We’re extremely lucky we got away.”

“So I gathered,” Snow sighs. “Now what? We’ve gone a good way backwards now, if I had to guess.”

“Agreed. We’ll have to try and move around the Weeds. If we’re lucky, the town will still be reachable.”

“No one has ever called hexes lucky.”

We both laugh a little. Sometimes laughter is the only way to deal with our horrible existences. I pull the waterskin out of my bag and take a deep, long drink. “Let’s stay here for a moment, though. That blast took a lot out of me.”

“Y-Yeah, that makes sense. Um, I’ll just...”

He turns his horse to the side, trotting away from me. My stomach drops out. Where’s he going? Am I going to be alone again? I’ve only been with Snow for one day. That’s nothing compared to the last two years I’ve been on my own. But now I can’t imagine going back to that crushing, never ending loneliness.

“Heading out, Snow?” I keep my tone neutral, holding back the desperate tremor that threatens to bleed out. “Suppose I’ll see you around, then.”

Snow whips his head around. If I were a more hopeful person, I’d say he looks even more panicked than when we were tangled in the Weeds. “W-What? No, I was just gonna go a little further away...”

“Do I smell that bad?” I probably do. Hygiene is not a priority in these parts.

“No! The opposite, actually...” Snow looks to the side, a little red on his face. “You used a lot of magic before. I can still smell some of it. I, uh, want to keep my promise...”

Oh. Right. I should count myself lucky that he didn’t drain me the minute we stopped. “Yes, yes, of course, makes perfect sense.”

“Unless...you want me to go...”

I gulp down the massive lump in my throat. “Do you want to go, Snow?”

Snow scratches his neck. He points his thumb to the side. “I’ll be waiting over there, until we’ve both cooled down. Alright?”

I would never admit how much relief that brings me. “Alright. We’ll set off again in an hour or so.”

“Okay.” Snow trots over to a good distance away. His brown, sweet smell still lingers in the air, but it fades just enough for me to rest properly. I sit back against the tree, drinking a good portion of my waterskin. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Snow doing the same. I try to not watch him. But it’s very, very hard.

———————————————

Nightfall hits before we reach the town. Snow can’t ride very fast, and I’m still more than a bit drained. So once again, I have to sit opposite the man who will most likely kill me soon.

He fidgets endlessly, picking at his nails and sleeve. It’s infuriating. He gnaws on the jerky like a crazed cat or something. I huff and shake my head. Snow looks up at me.

“What?” he says through a bite.

“Do you ever stop moving? We’ve been sitting here for over an hour and there hasn’t been a single moment of stillness from you.”

Snow snorts. “I don’t see how that affects you.”

“It’s annoying.”

He snorts again, but there’s a small smile now too. “Maybe this is the real reason hexes don’t interact. We're all arseholes.”

“That is hardly a hex thing, Snow. I’ve known humans and hexes alike that I can’t tolerate.”

“Am I one of them?

I hope my face doesn’t flush too hard. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

He chuckles quietly and goes back to eating his jerky, with far less fidgeting this time thankfully. We sit in silence for a while. I keep sneaking looks at him, then tearing my gaze away every time. The firelight makes Snow’s tawny skin almost glow and his bronze hair sparkle gold. He’s a constellation of moles and freckles. He’s a gorgeous mess. Just looking at him, I can almost forget that we’re supposed to be enemies.

“What part of England are you from anyway?” Snow asks through a mouthful of dried out meat.

“Hampshire. Though if you asked the people here, they’d say I’m from Buckingham bloody Palace.”

Snow throws his head back laughing. It’s a ridiculous, wonderful sound. “Damn true! I’ve lived on the streets of London for the past ten years and an American asked me if I’m related to the bloody queen! They have no idea about accent differences. They think every Brit is royalty.”

I freeze. Snow’s laughs slowly subside. He must notice the utter panic in my eyes. “You lived on the streets of London for a decade? That long?”

He pulls in, curling his thin body in on itself. This Simon is a hex like me, a terrifying being filled with unimaginable power, yet right now, he looks so...small. “Well, not the whole time. It’s been on and off. I found some places to live for a bit but they never lasted. Thank God for magic. Or thank the Devil, if the humans are right about us.”

He chuckles nervously. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, trying to hide the way his laugh makes me face heat up even more. “I guess so. It’s taken care of me since-”

There’s a crack. It’s small, far off, almost indistinguishable from the regular sounds of the desert, but it’s there. My aunt always said I have the ears of a bat. I swing my head around.

“What is it?” Snow says.

“Hush! I think I heard something.”

Slowly, I stand up, crouched over with my fists clenched. My magic sizzles and sparks inside me, begging to be used. I see Snow stand too at the edge of my vision.

“Die hex scum!”

The man launches himself out of the darkness, jagged knife in hand. He knocks me flat down to the ground. All the breath is forced out of me as my back hits the sand.

“Fuck!” I wheeze.

I push at him with both arms, thankfully keeping my pretty face out of his slashing range. He writhes and struggles like a rabid wolf. His dirty crazed smile, missing most of his teeth, looms over me. I recognise him.

“You,” I growl. “Did you really follow me all the way here from Slipfoot’s, you pig?!”

“Die!” He says that like it means absolutely anything, like I haven’t heard it a hundred times before.

Racist Man has no technique. He just screeches and flails with his knife. Aunt Fiona’s words come to my mind immediately. “Every self respecting hex needs to know how to defend himself, Basil.” She said just before pinning me to the ground in one move. I hook my leg around his and flip him onto his back. He gasps and lets out a rattling cough. I hover over him, knee on his chest, pinning his knife hand to the ground.

“You don’t deserve to live, you sand demon.” He spits at me, splashing against my cheek. I flick it off with ease.

“Such an original opinion.” I feel the fire blazing in my gut, threatening to consume myself and everything around me. “I should scorch off all your skin.”

“Course you would. All you hexes, just filthy murderers. No wonder y’all are fleeing to Rook’s heathen paradise. Your kind don’t belong around civilized folks.”

I growl again. First he despises my skin colour, then he thinks he knows anything about hexation. This bastard, so stupid and ignorant. We’re only monsters because we have to be. Because men like him come at us with knives and guns and nooses. There’s no holding the fire back. My hand heats up around his wrist. He screeches as his skin sizzles under my fingers. He drops the knife, but I don't stop. All my rage pushes out through my hand and onto his increasingly scorched skin.

“Get off me!”

I turn to see Simon, struggling against another man. His fingers spark and sputter uselessly as he pounds against the guy with a hand around his throat.

“Better save your man over there,” Racist Man hisses.

I give him one last good death stare. I see him shiver just slightly. At least he has some good sense. “Run fast and far. If you come near us again, so help me God I’ll melt through your entire brain.”

The look of terror in his eyes is enough of an answer. I jump off him and run towards Snow.

“Oi! Off him, now!” I roar.

The other man turns to look at me. He has the same crazed look as his friend. “Or what, you piece of devil shit?!”

“Or this.”

I turn to the fire. With only one hand outstretched, my magic wraps around it, and pushes my power into the very core. The flames shoot nine feet upwards, illuminating the vast dark in blinding light. I turn back to the terrified human. With one swing of my arm, the pillar slams into him. He’s sent flying in a shower of flames and skids on the ground, tossing up a cloud of dustin his wake. I start to march towards him. But Snow throws up his arm to stop me.

“Let me,” he growls.

The tone of his voice stops me in my tracks. Simon stomps towards him, his entire hand now covered in tiny sparks like fireworks. His assaulter sits up, panting heavily.

“You better run now,” Snow says.

He sneers. “Don’t tell me-”

“GO!”

Snow’s magic explodes like a fucking bomb. It’s a bolt of violent and powerful energy that hits the assailant square in the chest. He flies back even farther. I stumble from the sheer force of it. The magic disperses as quickly as it appeared. Snow is panting, bronze curls still staticy with stray sparks. The human scrambles and runs away into the darkness.

We’re left there, breathing hard in the darkness, the embers of the now dead fire our only light. Simon tries to pull out the crackling electricity still clinging to his hair. It curls around his fingers and won’t dissipate no matter how much he shakes his hand out. Finally, I find my voice again.

“That was...”

“Awful?” Snow mumbles. “Yeah, I know. Half the time my magic doesn’t work, the other half it explodes. Pretty fucking annoying.”

I turn to look at him properly, still trying to dust off the little sparks. “No, it was incredible. I’ve never seen magic that powerful, or beautiful.”

Oh fuck, why did I say that? I’m going to explode myself any second. Simon freezes, then turns to me. His lovely plain eyes are soft. Half of his mouth pulls up into a smile. My pulse is pounding in my ears. “N-No one’s ever called it beautiful before. And...no one’s tried to save me either.”

He starts to reach out to me with his spark kissed digits. I see the little bolts pulling towards me like I’m a magnet. My own magic flares to surface, reaching back towards him. Tiny flames from my fingers curl around the lightning. And a part of me, that horrible instinctual part, desperately wants to grab his hand and add his beautiful, terrifying energy to my own until his body is nothing but an empty husk.

I take a large step away, hands behind my back. Simon does the same. His eyes are wide with terror now. We both know how close we came to giving into temptation.

“We should go to bed,” I mutter.

Snow nods furiously. I speed walk to my side of the dead fire. We both lay down and pull the blankets to our reddening ears. The only sound for ages is the desert wind whistling through the cacti. Until Snow decides to speak up again, God help me.

“Baz?”

“What, Snow?” I snap. I can’t talk to him anymore, it’s too damn painful.

“Have...Have you ever actually fully drained anyone?”

Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. The question hits me in my heart. All that comes to mind is my aunt’s face as I saw her for the first time in weeks. Her happiness turned to utter horror in seconds. The memory still aches deep inside me. I can almost feel that horrible hunger when I first manifested. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. “No. But I’ve come close. You?”

Snow pauses too. I can hear his shaky breathing clearly. “I had a hex friend back in London. Penelope. She was really good at magic, like you, so she tried to help me. We could only see each other for an hour a day for safety’s sake, and it worked for awhile. But one time, my magic got so out of control that I came this close to draining her.” He makes a loud sniffing noise. I hate imagining the tears I know are rolling down his face. “She told me it wasn’t my fault but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to hurt her. Next day I got on a boat to America. That was almost a year ago. I’ve been alone ever since, and it’s awful.”

“Is that why you want to go to Hex City?”

“Yeah. I mean, I just want to be able to have some choice, you know? Not make choices because of this power I never asked for. Don’t you feel like that?”

I think about my mother, who lost her life because of what we are. Or my six weeks of torture by that madman. Or how I had to run away from my family in fear of what I’d accidentally do to them.

“Yes,” I whisper, closing my eyes, “all the damn time.”

———————————————

We ride leisurely under the blistering sun. The desert has melted into more of a hot, grassy plain. Surprisingly, the climate and terrain actually gets less tortuous the further south you go in this awful state. I’ve only gone this far south once before. The Call somehow gets even stronger here. It threatens to fill every nook and cranny of my brain, but I beat it back. No disgraced Confederate chaplain or Aztec witch woman gets to decide what I do.

Snow is mumbling to himself about it being too hot. My head is whirring with a terrible, awful idea, but it won’t go away. My eyes keep drifting towards his beautiful face, and my mind keeps thinking of his beautiful magic. I got only a taste of the endless, consuming feeling of it, and it was exhilarating. If only he could control it.

I groan. “Snow, stop your horse.”

He looks at me confused, but does as I say. “What is it?”

“Get off. I’m going to help you with your magic.”

His eyes bug out of his skull. “What?! Why?”

“Because as incredible as your magic can be, I’d rather not have you explode when you sleep ten feet away from me.”

It’s a convincing lie. Honestly, I want him to be able to protect himself. I don’t know exactly how long it will take to get to the south, or what could happen before then. Simon might’ve been killed if I wasn’t there. And I don’t know how long I will be with him.

I swing off my horse and Snow follows. We walk out into the empty plateau. He shuffles his feet nervously, chewing at his nails.

“Stay here,” I say.

I walk out and place my old empty flask on a cactus (it’s rusting anyway). Snow looks at it confused. I gesture to the metal bottle, then put my hands behind my back. “Hit that with a blast but avoid the cactus.

“O-Okay...” I watch his throat as he gulps. God, I want to touch that throat, I want to touch everywhere. But I’ll kill him if I do. It makes me hate my magic even more.

Simon raises his hand and takes aim. Small sparks dance between his fingers. One by one, they begin to increase. A small ball of lightning collects in his palm. Snow curls his fingers in, but they seem to be struggling. The ball starts to grow larger and Snow clenches harder. With little to no warning, a lightning bolt shoots out and hits the side of the flask. A blackened mark is left in its wake, but that’s nothing compared to the cactus. A massive chunk has been blown out of the top. It’s charred remains lay strewn on the gras.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Sorry, I was losing control, I had to let it go. Would’ve been much worse if I didn’t.”

“That’s alright, Snow. You technically did hit the flask.”

Snow scoffs, running a hand through his beautiful, sweaty hair. “Sure, I guess...”

I pluck the flask from the half destroyed desert fauna. Another horrible idea is coming to my mind, and I just might be mad enough to do it. “Maybe you need a greater motivator for staying in control.”

“Huh?”

I place the flask on my hand and hold my arm out to the side. “Hit the flask, but not me.”

Snow goes wide eyed again and inhales sharply like he’s been kicked. “A-Are you serious?! You just saw what I did to that cactus, right?”

“Well, you’re going to have to be accurate, unless you want me to end up like said cactus”

He pulls at his curls anxiously. The tiniest of parks fly off the ends. “I don’t know, Baz. I don’t want to hurt you...”

I try to ignore my rapidly beating heart. It’s been so annoying this past week, trying to get what it can’t have. I just flash a smirk at him. “Well, I believe that you won’t. Care to prove me right?”

A red colour spreads across his face. Part of me hopes that’s not just the sun affecting his pale, freckled complexion. “Alright, I’ll try.”

He rubs his hands together. His skin simmers with magic once again. It smells intoxicatingly good. Snow holds his right hand out, palm flat. The electricity builds on the surface. He keeps his hand clenched, but the energy threatens to spill over his fingers. I resist the urge to run in as fast as I can. I didn’t lie, I do trust him. But living on my own for almost three years has given me quite the self preservation instinct.

Sweat prickles Snow’s brow. He uses his opposite arm to keep the other one steady. “C’mon, Simon,” I whisper. “You can do it.”

The jagged white bolt shoots from his skin, far less formless than the last one. It zigs and zags, but in the end hits the flask straight on. The bottle explodes in a shower of jagged metal. I throw up a makeshift shield just in time. When I look at Snow, he’s flat on his ass, panting hard.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“‘Holy shit’ is right,” I respond with a chuckle.

He looks at me with a wide grin. It shines brighter than the midday sun. “I did it! That’s the most controlled my magic has ever been! Thank you, Baz.”

I nod. “You’re welcome, Snow. My aunt always said danger is a great motivator to learn. Especially when it comes to magic.”

Snow lays down on the grass, panting hard. It seems he’s not going to get up any time soon. “Your aunt, was she the one that taught you about magic?”

I kick at a piece of rusted shrapnel, my back to the resting Snow. “Yes, before it manifested, obviously. She wanted me to be prepared just in case. Her whole side of the family has a history of magic. It only appears every few generations or so. We both drew the short ends of the bloodline straw I guess.”

“You’re lucky with that, y’know. I never had anyone to teach me properly. Penny tried, but we never got far enough to make a difference. When I first got magic, this guy called the Mage offered to help. But it turned out he just wanted to drain me. I killed him by accident when he tried. I really didn’t mean to hurt hum, but he wouldn’t stop...”

I turn to him. There’s far too much pain in his eyes. “You had every right to defend yourself. Don’t feel bad.”

He lifts his head up. His smile is sort of sad, but it’s still gorgeous. “Thanks, Baz.”

I smile back as best I can. “You’re most welcome, Snow.” I place my hands in my pockets, desperately clenching my fists in hopes to keep my emotions at bay. “Unfortunately, I’m out of flasks. But we do have an oversupply of fauna. Want to try and not destroy a cactus this time?”

“Okay.” Snow nods, breathing steadily. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Snow takes his stance across from another unfortunate cactus. I watch him and give advice, but slowly have to back away as Snow’s sweet scent permeates the air. I try not to imagine being close to Snow, not having to fear him, him not having to fear me. Oh, what a life that could be.

———————————————

After another week of dodging the Red Weed, we finally get to somewhere. Covent Gardens, a town I suppose is named after the London borough. It’s sizable enough to have a slightly good inn; as in none of the panels are falling off and the sign is missing only a single letter. That’s practically a palace in these parts. I walk in with gusto, making the shutters rattle, Simon following behind me with his head.

Everyone looks at us. I’m not sure how obvious our hexation is, but I suppose we look enough like trouble. Plus my skin tone isn’t an asset here. Or anywhere, honestly. So I sneer and most turned away.

“They’re afraid of us,” Simon mumbles.

“As they should be,” I reply deadpan. I go straight to the barkeep, a bulky white man with truly horrific mutton chops. “I need two rooms.”

The man crosses his unnaturally large arms. “We don’t serve... people like you.”

I grip the bar lip, nails digging into the half rotted wood. “Like me how? Hexes or brown people?”

He sneers at me. “Neither.”

The fire blazes in my eyes. Wood blackens under my skin. “Now listen here, you stupid bastard, you better rent us a room or-”

“Now, now, Basilton,” a familiar voice says, “no need to be so rude. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

“Hello, Nicodemus.”

Nico moves to stand next to me. His suit is cheap, the stitches fraying at the seams. He’s still got that sort of menacing look, but he looks tired too.

“Fancy seeing you here, Pitch. How’s your aunt?” He smiles, showing off his missing eye teeth. It makes me want to punch him in his stupid face.

“Why would you care, Petty? You’re the one who left her after everything she did for you.”

He hangs his head back with a groan. “Still defending your family’s honour, I see. Ain’t my fault I wanted to realise my full potential.”

“What, by getting your teeth pulled out so you could get magic? Even when my aunt warned you what a curse being a hex was? You’re still an arrogant idiot then.”

Nicodemus growls and grabs my wrist. His magic reaches out to clash with my own. It’s slick like oil, wrapping around my fire like a snake. But there’s a roughness to it. A sort of mangy, wild energy that I remember all too well from the hex duel with my aunt. Now, I can smell the acrid tang of it too. It leaves a sour taste in the back of my throat. I’m not surprised his magic is as disgusting as he is.

“Looks like you went through some shit too, Basilton,” he hisses. “You’ve got the same fire as dear old Fi. What, the guilt of letting your mum die finally get to you? Try to end it all? Too bad, you just became the monster she never wanted you to be instead.”

His power gnashes at mine, trying to rip it apart and eat it. But Nicodemus has made a fatal assumption; that he’s more powerful than me. I push back against him hard. The fire rushes through my every vein. I revel in the way Nico’s eyes go wide. My hand shoots up to his throat and I shove him down so hard his back bends against the wooden bar.

“You bastard,” I growl. “After all these years you still don’t know how to keep your bloody mouth shut.” I hold his throat even tighter. His eyes bug out of his skull. “Maybe I should shut it permanently.”

I open the gates within, and his magic begins to pour into me. It’s the world’s greatest adrenaline rush. I’m invincible, powerful, a bloody god. Nico gasps and tries to push me away. But I’m still stronger. He could never stop me.

“Baz!” Snow shouts. “Stop it!”

I turn to him with burning eyes. Everything I see is cloudy, like a smoke screen or rippling water. “Why?!”

“Because,” his voice is desperate, and maybe even caring, “we shouldn’t be the monsters they think we are. Just look at them, Baz!”

I still have enough sense to hear what he says. The patrons cower in fear, eyes wide with terror as they look at me. It’s not an expression anyone wants to be subjected to, or cause. And though I hate him, Nicodemus is right. My mother never wanted me to be this. Another terrible, murderous, evil hex.

With all my strength and good sense, I find the will to let Nicodemus’ neck go. His power rushes back into him with a sputtering gasp. I glare at him as I pull away, fingers still trailing with flames.

“Leave,” I say flatly. “Now.”

Nicodemus runs faster than I’ve ever seen a man run before. I take a few deep breaths. It takes a moment for my magic to balance out. It still yearns for Nicodemus’ power, but I beat it back into submission. I won’t let the hunger control me. Then I walk towards the now terrified barkeep.

“Rooms still not available?” He shakes his head frantically. “Good.” I slap down some American money. “Two rooms, please. Also throw in some whiskey. I need a drink after all that.”

The man picks two keys out of a box, then a bottle and glasses from the shelf. He shoves them both forward on the bar and takes two large steps back. I snatch them up with a tip of my ridiculous cowboy hat.

“Cheers, mate.”

Snow and I take a table in a corner. No one dares to look at us. I pour drinks for both of us and shove his glass to the other side of the table. We’re as far apart as we can be but it’s still risky. My power is still hungry. And Simon still smells delicious. But I won’t hurt him. I can’t.

“So,” Simon says, vowel drawn out, “who was that?”

I throw back the whiskey. It’s sour and burns my throat, but it's better than Slipfoot’s at least. “His name is Nicodemus Petty. He and my aunt Fiona were friends growing up. They bonded over their mutual family history of hexation. But when my aunt and his sister, Ebb, manifested magic as teenagers, Nico was jealous. Fiona and Ebb both tried to tell him that hex magic was far more of a curse than a blessing, but he never listened. He wanted the power. When I was about nine, he finally succeeded in activating his own latent magic.”

“By having two of his teeth ripped out...”

“Mhm. First thing he did was stumble all bloody mouthed to my aunt’s flat.” I clench the glass so hard I nearly break it. “The bastard attacked her by surprise, and tried to steal her magic. He almost killed her, but Fiona got a lucky shot and threw him out the window.” I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “As you can guess, I was there. It wasn’t pretty.”

“I can imagine.” He pulls in, picking at his nails nervously. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking...w-what was he talking about? With your mum?”

I pour myself another helpful shot of whiskey. I want to drown my brain in the stuff, honestly. I’ve never talked about my mum, it’s too painful, like ripping out a fingernail. But Snow has shown so much of himself to me. It seems unfair to hide. “My aunt and I aren’t the only hexes in our family.”

His eyes go wide as the revelation hits him, “Your mum is a hex too?”

I nod slowly, then drink the alcohol in one gulp. The warmth tingles in my veins and loosens my tongue. I stare at the glass, watching the light refract through it’s bends. “She was, but my father is human. They loved each other enough to not be scared, I guess. They never meant to have children. I was an accident, but my mother wanted me in spite of the risks. My father said she cried with happiness when she saw I was a boy. She thought if she kept me safe, I’d never become a full hex.” I flick a paint chip off the table with more force than necessary. “Then she died protecting me, doing what she promised.”

“How? Was it another hex?”

“Even worse, scared humans.”

Snow’s face falls even more. He takes a long sip from his own drink. “So they tried to kill her?”

“They tried to kill all of us. Someone heard of my mother’s hexation, and they rallied a group together to fight our family. It wasn’t a real fight though. The cowards snuck in and tried to stab us. My mother killed almost all of them quickly” My fists clench so tight it hurts. “The last one nearly got me, but my mother stepped in front. He burned to ash just after he stabbed her through the throat.”

“Oh. Not even a hex could come back from that kind of wound...”

“I know,” I say between gritted teeth. “I know that very well, Snow.” I delicately place the glass down with a strained hand. “I...I tried to stop the bleeding but there was nothing I could do. I had no magic then. Even so, I doubt my powers could’ve helped.” A little flame pops up in my hand with barely a thought. Making fire is more natural than breathing for me, after all. I watch the scarlet snake dance between my fingers. “My family’s abilities have always been better at destruction.”

Simon takes another long sip, polishing off his drink. “I don’t know what my family’s like, but I hope they’re not like me. This power...it’s too much for anyone to have. I’d give it up in a heartbeat.”

“We all would, Snow. That’s what the humans don’t get. Most hexes are just as scared of themselves as humans are.” I pour my third drink. It’s been awhile since I’ve drank so much in one sitting, but if I’m going to get sozzled, tonight is a good time. “But that’s not up to us. We’re born like this. Nothing we can do but try to survive.”

“Believe me, I know that. All I’ve ever done is survive. In the orphanage, on the streets, here in America.” He lets out a small, sad laugh. “Hexation is how I ended up on the street, actually.” Snow looks directly down at the table. “When I was 11, I, uh, had a dream that I was exploding. When I woke up, the entire orphanage had been blown to pieces. Luckily no one was hurt, but the matron couldn’t very well keep a hex among other children.”

“So she thought sending you to roam among other humans was safer?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think she cared as long as I was far away from her.”

I scoff, swinging the glass between two fingers. “Sounds about usual for humans. What made you manifest? A particularly bad paddling from the matron?”

Snow chews on his bottom lip. His fingers drum the wood slowly. “I, uh, actually didn’t have to suffer. I’m one of those rare cases of sudden manifestation, apparently. That’s what Penny called it anyway. She said it was rare but possible.”

My grip on the glass gets even tighter. A sudden jealous rage consumes my mind. So Snow just exploded one day at eleven. That’s awful, of course, I’ll never deny that. But all I can think of is the coffin. The endless night of being trapped in that box, waiting for a relief that wouldn’t come, until I finally broke and became the last thing I ever wanted to be. I went through absolute hell. Of course I assumed Snow had to, like all other male hexes. But he didn’t. He’s never had the acute kind of torture I did. It’s not fair.

“Excuse me,” I say more harshly than I mean to, “I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in.”

Snow’s pretty plain eyes go wide. “O-Oh...okay. Good night, then.”

“Night.” I snatch the bottle up and leave the key for his room. Then I stomp up the stairs with irrational anger still burning me up. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t get past it. Male hexes get their magic through suffering. It’s a well known fact. How could Snow be like me without the same kind of pain? How could he ever fully understand me the way I thought he could?

The second my room door is closed, I drink down the last of the whiskey bottle. I’ve tried to avoid alcohol over the past few years. It would be far too easy for me to drink away the pain, the memories, the horrible guilt. Eventually, I’d drown myself in a bottle. That’s not a way I want to go. But one night of indulgence will be fine.

I wobble towards my bed, shedding my outer layers as I go. I collapse face first onto the old mattress. Whiskey clouds my mind. And when I finally pass out, all I see is empty darkness. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than the nightmares.

———————————————

“...safe?”

“Out cold...”

The voices stay patchy as I slip in and out of consciousness. I try to force my eyes fully open, but the pounding in my head is too much. Indistinguishable figures move on the edges of my blurry vision. There’s little to no light. It must still be night, maybe only a couple hours since I passed out.

“Is..right thing?”

“Hex...Rook and Pargeter...dangerous...we...safe.”

“Fine.”

Something grabs both my wrists and my ankles. I try to struggle but I must still be too drunk. I can’t get my limbs to move save for some squirming. I try to summon my magic, but my mind can’t concentrate. It’s no use. Bloody hell, I’m trapped.

“Night night, hex,” a horrible voice says. Something soft is pressed hard against my face. I can’t take in air, I can’t breathe, I can’t fucking breathe. It’s like the coffin. No, I can’t do this again. I try to thrash harder and scream but it’s still no use.

Oh Lord, I’m going to die here. I wonder if I’ll see my mother on the other side. I wonder if I even have a soul to go to the other side. And I wonder how if Snow is okay. Christ, my last conversation with him ended in anger. If I had known, I would’ve said everything I’ve wanted to say this past week. But the first thing would be ‘I’m sorry.’

I’m sorry, Snow, for everything I said and thought. And I’m sorry for leaving you alone.

“Hey! Get off him, you bastards!” That voice is familiar even in my half drunken state. Thank whatever gods are listening that he’s okay.

“It’s the other one!” one of my assailants shouts. “Wasn’t Garth supposed to take care of him?!”

“That damn idjit fucked up!”

I hear the telltale signs of punches and kicks thrown about. One of the hands on me pulls off. All this excitement has thankfully sobered me up some. I kick some stupid bastard right in the stomach.

“Fuck!” they wheeze. The other humans are wise and let go of my wrist. I’m on my feet in a second.

“Bloody humans,” I growl out, still slurring slightly. “You can’t even let me fucking sleep?!”

The burly barkeep scowls at me. My would be murder weapon is still in his hand. “Eat shit, you demon.”

I scowl right back at him. “Oh, you want a demon? I’ll give you a fucking demon, love.”

The fire blazes up in me, all shining black and scarlet, and I make little effort to contain it. I let the flames fly out and encase the man almost completely. He screeches as his skin bubbles and burns under my powers.

“Stop it!” a woman yells. She comes at me with a knife raised. A whip of fire forms in my hand instantly. With one crack, it wraps around her wrist. She screams in the exact same way and lets her weapon clatter on the floor. She goes to her knees, clutching her blackened, blistered skin.

“You bastard,” she cries. “How could you?!”

“How could I!?” Even more fire plays over my hands. “I could ask you the same thing, human.”

“We’re trying to protect ourselves, monster!”

In that moment, in her eyes, I see every human who’s hurt me. The people who mocked me, who killed my mother, who turned me into this. All sense leaves my mind in an instant. “I’m a monster only because of you!”

With one wave of my hand, she’s thrown against the wall hard enough to make it shake. I spin around to see a man trying to crack Snow’s skull open with a butcher’s cleaver. One well aimed blast sends him flying as well. Another casts two aside. They don’t move much afterwards, but I find myself caring little. Let them die like my mother did.

“Baz, stop it!” Snow shouts. I ignore him as I send the last assailant against the wall, listening to their screams as I burn their chest. “Baz!”

“Fuck off, Snow!” I roar. “I- Ack!”

Pain rips through my shoulder. I clutch it and my hand becomes wet with what I assume must be blood. I fall forward. My nose cracks against the floor. I scream in pain and flames roar out of me in a massive plume They hit everything, including my shooter and the walls of the room. I can feel the whole space burning around us.

“Baz!” Snow’s voice is beyond panicked. I hear his footsteps rush toward me. His hands hover over me but won’t touch. He can’t touch me.

“Get out, Simon,” I rasp , turning my head to the side to look at him. He’s covered in bruises and ash. Yet he’s still so beautiful. “Run before more of them come.”

“Shut up, arsehole! I haven’t turned my back on you yet, and I’m not going to start now!”

If the world weren’t literally on fire right now, I’d find that touching. I close my eyes. At least my dying image will be of him. “Don’t be an idiot, Snow.” Surprisingly, the bastard fucking laughs. My eyes snap open again. The bloody back of his hand is pressed against his mouth as he giggles. “What the fuck is funny about this?”

“You,” he laughs, “called me Simon before.”

My face heats up, and it’s not from the fire. “No I didn’t.”

“We’re fucking dying and you can’t admit you used my first name?”

“I’m dying. You’re being an idiot and not running away like you should!”

“You’re too stubborn to die, Baz, and we both know it.” He jumps to his feet. “Get up, we’re getting out of here.”

“Snow-”

“Or are you too much of a yellow belly to get up and try?”

Oh, this bastard. In only two weeks, he’s learned me too well. I scowl at his stupid pretty face as I push myself up on my good arm. At the same time, thundering footsteps can be heard from the stairwell.

“That route is out of the question,” I say. “Where are we to go, Snow?”

“This way.” He holds his hand and in a mere two seconds, the opposite wall is blown to pieces in a rain of spark. “Now let’s go!”

“We’re on the bloody second floor!”

Snow runs towards the gaping hole and throws himself out. I rush to the edge, blood pounding in my ear. No, Snow cannot die, I can’t let him die. But to my utter shock and awe, Snow is floating his way down to the ground. He stops and starts and still hits the ground in an uncoordinated roll, but he’s okay.

“Oh, Snow, you brilliant moron,” I whisper.

“They’re probably still in there!” someone shouts from the hallway. I take a few steps back, breathe deep, and run off the splintered edge just as the humans burst through the door.

Instead of sending my fire outwards like usual, I keep it within me. I will my body to rise high like flames from a candle. My legs move slowly like I’m running in the air. Fuck, this is actually working. Slowly, I let my flame flick and die down, lowering myself along with it. I reach the ground with my own thud but stay on my feet. Snow grins at me. In all this horror, that is the greatest thing to see.

“Let’s get the horses and get out of here, Snow.”

“Agreed, Pitch.”

We sprint to the stables and thankfully find our steeds unharmed. I count ourselves lucky that our attackers didn’t consider them demonic too. Mounting is difficult with my left arm fucked up, but let it never be said that a human bullet could stop Basilton Pitch. I hold the reins with one hand as I spur him into a dash.

The wind whistles in my ears. Snow and I run even faster than we did from the Red Weed. Our kind is always good at running. It’s our natural state.

———————————————

Snow and I ride until it’s nearly dawn. The sky turns purple then crimson with the rising sun in front of us. When I see orange, my horse finally starts to tire out. Snow’s does the same. We slow down then stop.

“Think we’re far enough away?” Snow asks, breath short and strained.

“Yeah,” I reply, sounding the same. “I think they would’ve caught us by now if they were still after us.”

“Good point, good point.” Snow leans forward, putting his forehead on his horse’s neck. “God, I’m fucking knackered. I barely slept.”

“Me too. We should both sleep.”

“What if someone comes after us?”

“Point. Sleep in shifts?”

Snow nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good.” I slowly dismount my horse, but get my footing wrong and start to fall. I grab the reins with my left arm and practically scream in pain.

“Baz!” Snow rushes towards me, but stops when I raise my good arm.

“Don’t...” I pant, “don’t come any closer. I’m injured, Snow, and my self control is severely weakened. So unless you wish for death now after just barely escaping it, back away.”

“Oh, yeah, right...” Snow backs far away just as he should, but my heart still aches. “What are we going to do about your shoulder?”

“I can fix it, but I’m going to need your belt”

Snow’s brows shot upwards. “My belt? What for?”

“Just throw it to me, Snow, for Christ’s sake.”

Thank God he doesn’t ask another stupid question. He just unbuckles the belt and does what I ask. I try to not let my hands shake as I fold the belt in half. The last time I did this was three years ago, when I sat in a London alleyway after a drunkard broke my leg, a mere four days after fleeing my home for good.

“Baz, what are you-”

“Snow,” I say firmly, “I need you to do me a favour.”

“Okay...?”

I sit on the ground, belt held tightly in my hand. “I need you to stay right there no matter what. Don’t move, don’t try to help. The best way you can help is to stay fucking still.”

“What the fuck is-”

“Promise me you won’t move, Simon.” I look him right in his blue eyes, my mouth a thin, serious line. “Promise me.”

Snow gives me a once over, then thankfully nods. “Okay, I promise.”

“Good.” I put the belt between my teeth. When I check on Snow, he looks beyond panicked. “If it makes it easier,” I say clumsily between the leather, “you don’t have to watch.”

“Baz-”

I slap my right hand over my left shoulder, and it feels like I’m burning from the inside out. My magic scorches my body as it wraps around my injury. The buck shot is pulled through my muscles and skin, ripping and tearing as they go, and I can feel every bit of it. I can also feel as my tissue and bone stretches to knit back together piece by agonizing piece. It’s an indescribable kind of pain. It’s what I imagine hell must feel like. I scream, I can’t help it, but luckily the belt is muffling as well preventing me from biting off a chunk of my tongue. Snow gasps in horror but he doesn’t move. He keeps his promises. I knew he would. He’s a far better man than me.

The burning fades as the skin finally seals shut. I cautiously move my hand, shaking off the shrapnel and gooey viscera that trails between my fingers. God, it's a nasty scab, mangled and uneven and horrifically inflamed. I can only hope the scar won’t be too bad. The one on my calf has faded overtime.

“Are you-”

“Not yet,” I say, cutting off a frightened looking Simon. “This one won’t take as long though.”

I touch my nose, feeling for where the breaks are. I squeeze my eyes shut, and with a horribly painful crack, I move it mostly back into place. I let out a short yell, but just pant and seethe as the bone and cartilage knit back together. I try to wipe the bloody snot from my hand but it's no use. Disgusting, but better than a broken nose. I feel around to make sure things are okay. Well, the tip is a bit crooked, but I can live with that. Right now, I’m thankful to be alive at all.

“Okay,” I sigh, finally taking the teeth mark covered belt out of my mouth, “now I’m done.”

“What the fuck was that?” Snow’s voice is somewhere between fascination and absolute horror. In short, a proper reaction.

“Something my aunt taught me. Hexes are essentially manipulators of energy and matter. And what are bodies but living energy and matter? With practice, you can fix any part of yourself.”

“But isn’t it painful?”

“Was that not obvious?” I snap. But Snow’s genuinely worried face softens my demeanor. “Yes, it’s excruciating. Hence why I try not to use the technique as much as I can.” I massage my still aching shoulder. “Today it was unavoidable, unfortunately.”

Simon runs a nervous hand through his dirty hair. “Fuck...”

I cough out a small laugh. “Yes, that sums it up pretty well.”

He laughs too, just as shaky and sad. “Sums up the whole night.”

The two of us keep chuckling softly in the wee hours of the morning. The ascending sun hurts my tired eyes. Using so much magic has taken everything out of me. I let out a long, deep yawn.

“You sleep first,” Snow says. “I’ll keep watch.”

“No, no, I can-”

“Baz.” He sounds firm, but also tired, and maybe even a little fond. I’m probably imagining that last one though. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you up in about eight hours.”

If I weren’t sleep deprived, magically drained, and recovering from grievous injuries, I would protest more. But Snow is damn lucky today. I simply sigh and stand up to get my cot from my saddlebags. I count our lucky stars we didn’t bring in too many of our supplies to the inn. Maybe God hasn’t completely abandoned us heathen monsters.

“I don’t have the energy to put up my shield,” I say, hoping my tone conveys enough.

“Okay,” Snow replies, “I’ll stay away, don’t worry. I keep my promises.”

My pulse flutters involuntarily. A smile creeps across my face no matter how hard I try to stop it. “I know you do, Simon.”

Snow gifts me one of his sunshine smiles. That’s the last thing I see before turning over and letting myself rest.

———————————————

Snow lets me sleep longer than eight hours. I’d be more mad if I wasn’t so exhausted. In return, I let him oversleep too. We’re both passed out by the time it’s dark again. Even hexes with all our inhumanity need to rest sometimes. Snow and I are lucky we get the chance this time.

In the morning, I reluctantly go to the next closest town. We did leave some of our things behind sadly, including most of our clothes. I’m damn well not going to keep roaming around the south of Texas in my bloody socks, and neither will Snow. I get us some new jackets, boots, and hats, ignoring the strange looks I get from the lily white shopkeeper.

I grab us some more of that disgusting jerky too. If only good food could keep in these horrific conditions. When I reach the counter, the shopkeeper frowns at the things I lay out.

“You can pay for all this?” she asks. I scowl deeply. I’m too tired for this shit.

“Are people like me not allowed to have money here?” I snap.

“Ya can now, but in my experience, y’all darker folk are better at stealing my stock than paying.”

Bloody hell, I’m too tired for this racist shite. I slam two bills on the counter. “There. Hope I didn’t dirty these up too much for you.”

She glares at me hard. As she reaches for the money, I deliberately brush my finger on hers, and she yelps loudly. The edge of her index is red and inflamed. An undeniable burn mark, but far too small for anyone to believe it came from an evil, bloodthirsty hexslinger.

“Oh dear,” I say deadpan. “Your register must have gotten in the sun. Do be more careful.” I shovel the supplies in my bag as she looks at me wide eyed. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

I can feel her scared eyes on my back as I leave. I get on my horse and ride out fast. No reason to stay in this shithole any longer. And I need to get back to Snow, where I belong.

———————————————

“Everything okay in town?” Snow asks.

I toss the bundle of clothes at him, along with a bag of jerky. “No one attacked me, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t get made for a hex. But I did get some flack for my skin tone.”

Snow’s face falls a bit. There’s something far too close to pity in his eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t, Snow. You’re in no place to apologize for some racist American bastards, it’s not your responsibility. Sorry from you means nothing.”

“But-”

“Would you accept an apology from me on behalf of all the rich men who have treated you like trash before?” Snow’s gaping mouth slowly closes. “Exactly. Now get those on. They’re slightly less dirty than our current garments.”

Snow nods and does what I say. I unbutton off my bloodstained shirt and wince as the tacky fabric peels off my skin. The scab has gotten a little better. That’s something I suppose. My eyes slowly move over to Snow without realising it. I steal a glimpse of his broad, bare back, golden like the rest of him. There are some jagged pink scars but they take nothing away how brightly he shines. I look away before I’m too tempted by what I can’t have.

“Much better,” Snow sighs as he slips on the new boots. “I’m surprised my feet haven’t been ripped to shreds yet.”

“Me too. I’m glad though, I didn’t want to do any more healing.”

“I don’t want you to either, fuck.” I hate how his concern makes me feel so good inside. “I’ll start setting up the fire. It’s going to get dark again soon.”

“By all means, Snow, do all the work. I won’t stop you.”

Snow snorts out a laugh, giving me a cheeky smile I can still see at this distance. Christ, I’m on fire, and for once it’s not from my magic. It’s so much better. I have to look away again before I do something ridiculous and deadly.

By the time the sun is down, Snow has made a wonderful small fire for the two of us. We both warm our hands from opposite sides. I don’t need to do it too much. My magic has almost fully replenished, for better or worse. And I’m so hungry that I actually enjoy the extremely salty bison jerky. Bloody hell, I’m turning into an American.

“Where are we going to go next?” Snow asks, mouth still full. “I’m guessing we should avoid any more towns.”

“Agreed. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not jump out of another building.”

“We certainly agree there. Christ, I was worried I was going to die.”

“Me too, Snow, me too.” I nervously fiddle with the string on my cloth bag. The words are coming out, and I can’t stop them. “I’m sorry, Snow.”

His brow adorably furrows. “Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for the way I acted that night, before I went to bed. I was very rude to you and I deeply apologize.”

“Oh...okay. Thanks.” He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I was confused. Did I do something bad?”

“No, Snow,” I sigh, “you did nothing wrong. It was all me being stupid.”

“Okay...”

I sigh again. God, I can’t dance around it anymore. I have to tell him. After putting up with me for this long, he deserves to know.

“I was angry and...somewhat jealous of you.”

His eyes get very big. “Jealous? Of me?!”

“Yes, in a way. Because...you didn’t have to go through the same kind of suffering I did when I manifested. Which isn’t fair, because you lived on the streets while I grew up in a bloody mansion. It’s just not the same suffering I had, and I was angry I had to go through it when you didn't. Which is absolutely ridiculous, and I’m sorry I pushed that on you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking...what happened?”

I stare at him for a long moment over the fire. He holds my gaze, eyes round with worry and care. It hurts me in the most exquisite way. “It’s not a pretty story, Snow.”

His mouth pulls into a sad, slight smile. “Weren’t you the one who said that all hexes live through hardship, and we have nothing to be ashamed of?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Using my words against me, a tactic of a true devious hex.”

He shrugs, still wearing that little smile. “What can I say? I can live up to our reputation sometimes.” Snow’s face falls again. “So what happened?”

With a deep sigh, rubbing my forehead, I start the horrid tale.

“My family always knew there was a chance I could be a hex,” I say. “But since my aunt couldn’t sense any magic on me pre manifestation, we assumed that I wasn’t too powerful, and manifestation could be avoided if we were careful. So I lived in the aforementioned secluded mansion all my life and I was never allowed to leave the grounds. All my time was spent reading, doing school work, or learning about hexation from my aunt, just in case. Everything in my life revolved around my mere potential to be a hex. I could never do or see anything. I felt like a prisoner. And when I was 18, I had enough.

“One evening, I snuck out of my room and went into the nearby town. I just wanted to see what was outside my home. But I was a naive sheltered kid. Of course I got lost on my way there and went into an area I never should have. Someone had knocked me out cold, and next thing I knew, I was in a cramped, dark box.”

“A box? What do you mean a box?”

I clench my fists tight until the shaking stops, then slowly let go. “It was a coffin, Snow. I had been trapped inside a coffin.”

I can almost feel the way Snow’s stomach must drop out at those words. I know, mine did the same when I realised where I was that night. “W-Why?!”

“It was hard to hear him through said coffin, but I got the main idea. He came from some old witch hunter family but had never caught an actual hex, until me. He’d heard the stories about my mother and had been secretly spying on me for months. When I escaped, he took his chance to kidnap me.”

“So he took you just to taunt you from outside a coffin?”

“I wish that was all he did,” I grumble. “He told me that the coffin was a test. There was a chance the hexation had skipped me over. If I was a hex, being stuck in the coffin would make me manifest, then he could kill me in good conscience. If I wasn’t and didn’t manifest, well, as he put it; ‘there are always casualties in the war for righteousness, boy.’”

Snow’s jaw drops to the grassy ground. “So even if you were human, he would’ve killed you anyway?”

“Mhm, mad bastard.”

“How long did he keep you there before you escaped? A few days?”

I take long, steady breaths, beating back the old fear that creeps up my throat like bile. I can almost still smell that unique rotten scent from the coffin. I’ll never forget it. I never can.

“Snow,” I say slowly, “I was in that coffin for six weeks.”

And I thought he looked horrified before. Snow drops his jerky bag, hands shaking. I want to grab them, hold them still, comfort him in whatever way I can. The urge is almost stronger than the Call.

“S-Six weeks?! How are you still alive?”

“Thank the witch hunter,” I grumble. “He drilled very small air holes in the lid, and gave me enough food and water to keep me alive but starving. I think, hex or not, he wanted me to suffer because I was my mother’s son. A hex’s child was just as guilty of sin in his eyes.” I rub the bridge of my nose. It aches with the pain of my past. “At the time, I had no idea how long I was in there. It was just one endless night of torture. I begged and pleaded with the hunter to let me go, but he only laughed and called me pathetic hex scum. After six weeks, well, he finally got what he wanted.”

“You manifested.”

“Almost as violently as you did.” I trace the lines of my hand, the skin rough from my fire. I remember my mother’s hands being the same. “The details are blurry, but I remember enough. It started as just a tingling in my gut, but soon it became a burn. And then it spread as quickly as a forest fire.”

“Is it always fire with you?” The corner of Snow’s lip quirks up. The bit of teasing lilt in his voice makes me feel a bit lighter. I can't help but smile back a little.

“Usually, yes. It's always run very strong in my family.” I bounce a flame between my fingers. The movement is strangely calming to me. “I quickly learned I was no different. Before I knew it, I let out a massive ring of fire in every direction. It blew the coffin apart, of course, and turned my captor into a charcoal husk.”

Snow scoffs, a surprisingly vicious expression on his face. “Better than he deserved.”

“Agreed. I have no idea what happened to his body. I left almost immediately, though I wasn’t fully conscious. Six weeks in the coffin had deprived me of most of my mental faculties. Luckily, he kept me not far from home, and I could wander back on pure muscle memory. But going home turned out to be a terrible idea.” I grab the small fire and snuff it out in one go. But my fist stays clenched. “My aunt had been staying there while everyone searched for me. The second I walked through the front door, I could easily smell her. She was overjoyed to see me, until she smelled me too. And as I said, most of my mental faculties were gone.”

“So you attacked her on instinct.”

I chuckle sadly. “Quick study there, Snow. I didn’t even know what I was doing. I was just so bloody hungry all of sudden. I can’t even describe it.”

“You don't need to describe it to me, Baz.” He brings his knees under his chin. “I’ve felt hex hunger too. It’s...awful when you’re in the middle of it.”

“And when you’re not, you try to drown it out or distract yourself. But deep down, you know one day you’ll give up and listen. Then it will take over.”

Snow nods, looking at me in the eye. I’ve seen so much profound sadness in a person’s face. “And you’ll hurt someone, no matter how much you’ll regret it later.”

If I have a soul, it’s aching horribly. How could fate be so cruel as to give me Snow? So wonderfully brave and kind to a fault, and who actually understands what my life is like. The perfect man. And someday soon, he’s going to kill me. There’s no doubt I’ll be the one to die. I won’t kill him, not ever. I’d let him take everything from me before I’d kill him.

“Did you hurt your aunt?”

Thankfully, I can shake my head to that. “No, not at all. She was an experienced magic user, while I was a starving, half crazed newly minted hex. She took me down in seconds. When I woke up again, I was cleaned up and in my room. It took a second to regain my bearings, but I soon remembered what had happened...what I had become. There wasn’t any debate in my mind. Within an hour, I had packed my most practical clothes along with any small valuables I could pawn. Then I ran away and never looked back.”

“Which is how you ended up in America.”

“What better way to protect my family from me than by putting an ocean between us? At first, I stayed in an empty little corner of the American frontier. I just wanted to live out my lonely hex existence as long as possible. I didn’t expect the Call or this looming hex war.”

“No one did,” Simon sighs. “Hexes working together has never been possible before. Who could’ve imagined some American preacher would team up with an Aztec goddess to do just that?”

“Fair point. But now he’s made our existences much harder in a way. Look what those humans tried to do to us at the inn. They were even more scared because of Rook”

“Yeah...”

I groan, pushing my face into my hands, rubbing it up and down. “I never asked to be like this. I tried my hardest to avoid being like this. Then that choice was ripped away from me by some madman. Now I’m trapped between murderous humans or a bloodthirsty witch goddess. Why am I here? Why do I have to be here?!”

“Baz-”

“I don’t want this,” I choke out through my building sobs. “I want to see my family again. I just want to go home!”

I breathe hard and fast, holding back tears with all my strength. No, I refuse to cry. I swore to never cry again after the coffin, because I wasn't sure I could survive falling apart again. Yet here I am. I thought I had shed every tear I have there. I’m so pathetic.

“It’s okay,” Simon says. His voice is far louder than before. “Whatever you’re feeling is okay. It’s...it’s okay if you’re not.”

Slowly, cautiously, I lower my hands, blinking away the tears that had collected. I inhale sharply. Snow is less than two feet away from me. I can count the moles on his face, see the golden highlights in his bronze. But worse, his unbelievably delicious scent fills every cavity of my nose.

“You really shouldn’t sit so close, Snow,” I whisper. My eyes fall down and become completely fixed on Simon’s plush lips.

“I know,” he says under his breath, “but I don’t care.”

He touches my hand, and I feel his magic run through me. That explosive sensation pulses through my veins so hard it almost makes me gasp. The instinctual part of my brain goes fucking mad. It wants me to grab his throat and drain every drop of his magic, his essence, his very soul. My breathing gets shallow and laboured.

“Simon...” I say.

And then he kisses me.

It’s cautious and shy. His lips barely brush against mine, but I feel it everywhere else, especially in the way our powers rise to meet each other. The magic collides, but doesn’t clash. They meld and twist together at our points of contact, desperately needing to connect.

Snow opens his mouth, turning the kiss into one of pure heat and hunger. I gladly do the same. He grabs either side of my face and shoves his tongue down my throat. I grip his collar and push back against him. My entire body is filled with endless energy. I’m a star going supernova. And I want to explode with Simon. My nails scratch viciously across his neck. He clenches his fist in my hair, pressing our faces closer. I shudder as Simon bites hard on my bottom lip. I’m wrapped in cold heat, wrapped up in him. I feel so alive. It feels so right. But it’s wrong.

With all the strength I have, I shove Snow off me. We both fall back on the ground, breaking our closed circuit of feeding on each other simultaneously. Simon scrambles further away panting. I’m similarly out of breath. Both our lips trail white smoke, like they’ve been singed by ice. My magic readjusts after being sucked away and added to all at the same time. A bit of Snow’s explosive energy still sits in me, swirling around like a miniature star. We just stare at each other wide eyed for a long time.

“Shit,” Simon whispers.

I sigh heavily, running a shaky hand through my hair. “Well said.”

“We nearly killed each other.”

“Mages don’t meddle, Snow. We both know that.”

Simon groans, clutching his hair in his fists. “I know, I know. I almost killed Penny last time and I swore it would never happen again. But look at me now. Of course I fuck up.” I can see tears forming under his eyes. “What’s the point of being an all powerful hex if it means being alone forever?! I can blow up a building with my mind but I can’t even bloody kiss you! It’s not fair!”

I pick at my shirt sleeve with shaking fingers. “Maybe God is punishing us.”

“We didn’t ask to be like this, Baz!”

“That doesn’t change what we are, Simon! We’re freaks of nature, cannibalistic monsters!” I nearly rip through the fabric of my shirt. I'm so angry and so fucking tired. “Maybe we truly are devil spawn or something, like all the humans say. Maybe they’re right to be scared of all of us...”

I turn away from him, just staring at the fire. The sting of the smoke keeps me from sinking too low into my self loathing. Snow moves in my peripheral. We sit side by side. My skin prickles as he hovers his hand over mine. It takes every bit of my will to not try and drain him again.

“There’s somewhere we can go where we aren’t 'Devil spawn,'” he says.

I tense up. “Simon, that’s risky. It could all be a farce.”

“I don’t care if you think it’s just a farce, Baz! It’s still a chance. For you and me, for us.” He lightly brushes one of my fingers. I have to rip my hand away before I hurt him again. His pretty eyes are filled with pain. “See? Wouldn’t you like to stop doing that? Isn’t it worth the risk?”

I’ve been running for most of my life. I ran from my mother's legacy for as long as I could. I ran from my family when I feared my own hunger. And I could run now, from Simon and the fear of killing him. But I’d also be abandoning the chance for some sort of happy life. It may not be perfect, but it would be far more than my ancestors ever had before. Can I sacrifice that for fear?

“I’m tired, Snow,” I say weakly. “We should both get some rest.”

“But Baz-”

“Let me sleep on it, alright? Please?”

Snow takes in a deep breath, and lets out a long sigh. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Okay.”

I want to kiss him so badly right now. Just grab his gorgeous, sunshine face and kiss him goodnight. Since I can’t, I smile as genuinely as I can at him. It’s not easy for me, but I mean it with him. “Goodnight, Simon.”

Snow stares at me for a long moment. But slowly, a smile creeps across his face too. The fondness threatens to melt me, “Goodnight, Baz.”

We keep our eyes locked for as long as we can. When I finally lay down, putting my crackling shield around me, the image of Snow’s wonderful face relaxes me into sleep.

———————————————

I bang my fists against the wood over and over, ignoring my already numerous splinters.

“Help!” I yell. “Someone help me! Please, get me out of here!”

All my pleas fall on deaf ears, as usual. No matter what I do, no matter how loud I scream. I’m stuck in this damned coffin. I scratch at it until my fingernails tear from their beds. Blood drips into my mouth, leaving an iron taste in the back of my scream sore throat.

“I’m not a fucking hex! I just want to go home!” I sob so hard I nearly choke on my own breath. “Just let me go home.”

My aching arms finally fall. I curl in on myself as much as I can within my confines. I close my eyes, but there’s little to no difference in the endless pitch black. Tears run hot down my face. They leave small trails in the dirt that’s accumulated over...however long I’ve been here. I don’t know anymore. Time is meaningless where there’s no sunrise or sunset. Life is meaningless in here.

“Baz?”

His voice is far away, but it still rings clear. My eyes slide open. “Simon?”

“Oh lord. Hang on, Baz! I'll get you out!”

I can only hear as Snow desperately tugs at the coffin lid. It should be impossible, the thing is nailed shut, but somehow Snow rips it open. The light is dim yet still hurts my eyes. I can't help but hiss at the pain.

“It’s okay, Baz,” he says in that unbelievably soft tone.

His hand reaches to me through the blinding light. Slowly, I reach back. And when I hold it, I know I’m supposed to be in pain, but I’m not. Instead, I’m just calm, happy, safe. Snow slowly pulls me out. His arms snake around my back, holding me up. He looks me over, taking in my decrepit, decayed state from ages in that damn box. And miraculously, he smiles. Even like this, he looks at me with such care.

“You’re alright now, Baz. I’m here.” He cups my face. “I’m here for you.”

Emotions clog up my throat and tears run down my cheek, but this time they’re for a good reason. I put my own shaking hand on his golden face. He’s so warm. “Yes, you are. And I’m here for you too, Simon.”

He’s still grinning as I lean forward, pressing my lips to his. But this time there’s no fear I’ll kill him. There’s just the utter joy of being with the one who understands me best, the one I want the most.

Oh, how I want this.

———————————————

I blink awake slowly. The morning sun is just rising over the horizon, turning the grassy landscape violet. I sit up and see the now familiar body on the other side of the fire. Snow sleeps in a knot, arms and legs pulled in. The furrow in his brow says he’s in the middle of a nightmare too. Though mine wasn’t one by the end. Not when he was there.

My mind is made up.

Once again, I’m packing my things lowly, waiting for Snow to wake. Luckily, he stirs while I’m only halfway through tying up the cot. He rubs the sleep from his eyes in such a terribly adorable way.

“Morning,” I say.

“Morning,” he yawns. “Are we going now? Or...are you?”

My heart seizes, but only for a moment. He’s right to be concerned. The fact that we’ve travelled together for two weeks without killing each other is a miracle among hexes. After last night’s close call, a sensible man would leave and never return. I was once a sensible human man. But I’m a deranged, bloodthirsty hex now. Why not act like one?

“You should get up and start packing, Snow. If we’re going to make it to the Mexican border before nightfall, we’ll have to ride fast.”

His eyes go rounder than a full moon. “You mean...”

I pull the pack tie tight. “We’re going to Hex City.”

“What changed your mind?

I sigh heavily, then walk over to him. I stay at a safe distance of course but Snow’s magic pulls me to him, my body begging me to take it. Instead, I simply hold out my hand to him. Snow stares for a moment but does catch on. He offers his own to me. Once again, our magics reach out to each other, wisps of fire and lightning twining together. It sends a faint whisper of that explosive adrenaline through my veins. So incredible and so wrong.

I snap my hand away, fists clenched hard. “Because of that. If I were a more selfless person, I would simply leave, but unfortunately I’m not. Are you?” Snow looks me over. His eyes pierce me in a way no one’s ever has before. He slowly shakes his head. “Exactly. I may be scared of Rook and his goddess, but I’m more scared of hurting you. There’s only one place where I won't.”

“Hex City.” He chews on the corner of his bottom lip. “What if you’re right though, and Rook’s price is too high?”

“Then at least we’ll pay it knowing we tried to have a real life, instead of running like we’ve always had to.” I stand straight with my head held high. No matter the fear, I’m sure of this. “I think we’ve both suffered long enough, Simon.”

The way Snow’s face relaxes means the world to me. I love seeing that, seeing what he looks like without the heavy burden of hexation on his shoulders. Maybe I’ll be able to see that more in Hex City.

“It’ll probably be nice there,” he says. “I mean, a city made for hexes by hexes is going to be weird, but I bet it’ll look amazing in it’s own way.”

I chuckle and nod. “Agreed. Buildings and roads made by magic will certainly be interesting.”

“Penny would probably want to study them.” He sighs, but there’s a lightness to. “Maybe Penny will come one day, and I could see her again.”

“Maybe. I would love to meet her. I might be able to see my aunt again one day, too. I could introduce you to her.”

He beams so bright at me I fear I’ll get sunburnt. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Me too, Snow. So let’s get going.”

We finish packing very quickly. Snow gets on his horse as clumsy as he usually does. I snort at the way his American cowboy hat nearly falls off his head. The death glare he gives me has little impact, what with the way he’s grinning. He hasn’t stopped grinning almost since he woke up. I can’t blame him. I have trouble controlling my smile either.

“Ready?” he asks. As if he even has to. I’ve made my choice, and I’m sticking to it.

“Ready,” I say. “Let’s go.”

Snow and I both send our horses into gallops. We soar across the grassy plain, the Texas sun illuminating our way. The impending hex war still looms over us. But I will fight until my last breath to keep any happiness Simon and I can find.

I can almost see our future. Soon, we’ll reach the terrifying and wonderful Hex City. Rook will ask for his price, and we’ll pay, because it’ll mean a freedom we've never known before. We’ll be able to hold hands, kiss whenever we want, sleep in the same bed, simply be around each other with no fear of our hexacious hunger. It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of even a few months ago.

For once, I’m going to run towards something good, instead of away from the darkness inside me. I cannot wait.

———————————————

AN: And that's all folks! I hope people enjoyed that, even if y'all have never read Hexslinger. If you wanna read the books, I highly recommend them, tho be warned they require trigger warnings for all the stuff here and more. Almost anything that usually needs a trigger warning is in those books. I'm okay with reading it, but I also completely understand others not liking that shit.

In the positives, it's an extremely interesting and complex series dealing with survival, discrimination, identity, the pain that can come with love, and the unlikely bonds formed between people. The world building is amazing and the magic system is super cool. What I love the most are the characters, who are all very interesting and complex. No one is 100% good or evil, they're just people trying to find ways to achieve their goals or simply live. What actions they take are up for moral debate, but a lot of the time they're at least understandable. There's a lot of period typical bigotry, and it's much more vicious than what I wrote here, but what I love is that there a lot of diverse characters who say "fuck that" and fight back against the shit they get. You've got queer, Indigenous, black, latinx, Chinese, and Jewish main characters in a wild west story who are all well rounded and interesting. That's pretty awesome imo.

Okay enough gushing about Hexslinger lol. Hope this story was good. No guarantee when my next fic will be out. Work and school are killer. Until then, see you later!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #hexslinger #hexslinger au #period typical homophobia #period typical racism #blood tw #mild body horror tw #canon typical vioence #mysnowbazfic #carry on through the ages #cotta 2020

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