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niqhtlord01 · 1 year ago

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Humans are weird: Space Vampires

(A continuation from Humans are weird: Space Werewolf) ( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The drop ship slowly crested its way down through the cloud banks and shook as it hit yet another pocket of turbulence.

“Would you like me to pilot?” Markus joked as he tightened his crash harness again. “I might not be as experienced as you, but I think I can avoid at least one batch of bad weather during our trip.”

Flint chuckled beside himself before quickly stifling it as Hooper grunted from the cockpit.

The craft was an older class V model of shuttle. Enough room for the cockpit and a small storage area in the back where Markus and Flint sat in modified seats. Much of the craft had been modified beyond what the original designers had envisioned, but in their line of work it was a hunter’s job to adapt to any situation with whatever they had on hand.

“You? Pilot?” Hooper laughed as he flipped a series of switches in rapid succession. “You’d be more likely to crash us into a bloody mountain and call it a detour.”

The shuttle shook again suddenly and it felt like it dropped ten feet before stabilizing out. Markus was opening his mouth to make another remark of Hooper’s piloting skills when the now unamused Hooper held up a finger for silence.

Several more shudders pierced swarmed the craft before finally the shuttle cleared the cloud banks and saw the world below. A desolate world of stone and sand with a sky constantly drowned in the depths of clouds so dense that barely any light at all ever reached the surface of the blighted world.

A perfect world indeed for their contact to meet them on.

“Are we sure we should be doing this?”

Hooper took pause from scanning the horizon for their landing to tilt his head back and see Flint looking between the pair. The signs of doubt already beginning to creep over his features as his right foot slowly tapped a rhythm to some new age song. It was a trick Hooper had taught the young hunter to calm his mind when the darkness began to creep ever closer.

“We’ve not got a choice I’m afraid.” Markus spoke before Hooper could. “We’re in uncharted waters and they’ve more a grasp than any of us.”

“But what if they double cross us?” Flint pressed. “When have we ever known them to honor a parlay of truce, let alone not lie to our faces?”

“I understand your reluctance,” Hooper began as he flicked on autopilot and turned the pilot’s chair around to face Flint, “and if times were different I’d be the first one in line to kill these bastard.”

“But Markus is right,” Hooper admitted with a heavy heart, “right now we need to put aside our old grudges and work together.”

“If it makes you feel better, at the first sign of a double cross we can kill them all!” Markus announced boldly and slapped his knee. Flint said nothing at this but smiled; though he could not help still tapping his feet a little softer. Hooper watched this quietly and kept his own council confined within the depths of his thoughts.

He had been hesitant to bring Flint along for this task. Normally a novice hunter would not be exposed to these sorts of dealings until they had become folly ordained within the order; but Markus had lobbied hard for the lad and their previous dealings with the werewolf pack on Sectus II had shown he could hold his own. Markus was also right that there was little time to follow traditional procedures and they needed every hunter in the field they had.

“Is that it?” Flint asked sheepishly as Hooper was dragged from the council of his mind and turned back to look out the cockpit window.

Just nestled in the valley between two long and tall mountain ranges was a red light glowing so bright it was even registering on the shuttles scanners.

“Strap in you two,” Hooper said as he flipped off autopilot and began the descent, “we’re about to find out.”

With that said the shuttle began a rapid descent towards the surface of the planet until coming to a stop just beside the strange red glow. The area around the light was completely deserted save for a lone figure. Their features were hidden beneath their cloak but they seemed untroubled by the storm of dust and flying stones as the shuttle came down next to the flame.

“Gear up.” Hooper said as soon as the shuttle finally came to a rest and the engines started spinning down. He watched the figure for a moment to see if they would move to greet them at the boarding ramp, but they just stood stoic by the light.

“I thought you said we should trust them?” Flint spoke as he untangled himself from the webbing. Hooper shook his head as he unbuckled himself from the flight chair and picked up his plasma caster that was nestled beside him. He popped in a fresh power pack and the weapon began to hum to life as the lethal energies coursed through its elegant frame.

“I said we need them, not that we should trust them.”

The trip of hunters loaded themselves with the weapons and tools of their trade before Markus hammered the boarding ramp switch and the back of the shuttle popped open with a grinding screech. It took a minute to fully open before the hunters set foot on the desolate world and walked around the shuttle to meet with the figure.

None of them spoke as they approached the stranger as they finally moved; walking towards the flame and casually extinguishing it with a casual kick of dirt. Hooper switched between keeping his eyes on the figure and scanning the horizon, but for the most part the figure was the only one out in the open for miles around.

“I thought we had agreed to meet alone.” The figure spoke as the trio of hunters stopped several paces between the two parties.

Hooper smirked. “That we did,” he said as he swept his plasma caster around the surrounding area, “so would you care to tell your friends to leave and I’ll do the same.”

The figure cocked his head in confusion, but Hooper just pointed his weapon at the ground he now stood over.

“You think we didn’t see your friend buried in the stones?” Hooper asked mockingly. “Tell them to get out here now or this one below me is about to find out what a face full of holy plasma feels like; and trust me when I say it makes holy water feel like a pin prick.”

Standing silent, the figure made no move to acknowledge Hooper’s claim. It wasn’t until the whine of the plasma caster finally reached its highest pitch indicating that it was ready to fire that they finally gave up and made a gesture with their right hand.

All around them more figures suddenly began bursting from the ground in showers of rock and stone, causing Flint to reach for his weapon before a calming hand from Markus forestalled him. These new figures wore elaborate sets of armor, now decorated with a thin layer of dust from their hiding places. Each held a sharpened blade in their hands while burning red eyes tracked the hunters every movements. The one beneath Hooper’s feet making an awkward assention as he crawled up from the stone beneath his legs.

“It is good to see your order has not lost its touch.” The figure said as they removed their hood to show a youthful looking face. “Existence can become so dull without a good sparring partner.”

“Morgan.” Hooper said with a tilt of his head. He powered down his plasma caster as the other figures shuffled over and stood behind their master.

Morgan, voice of the conclave of vampires, nodded in return and looked passed Hooper to Markus and Flint.

“And you’re friends are?” Morgan asked, but Hooper shook his head.

“Cut the formalities and let’s get this done.” He said.

The right eyebrow of Morgan twitched for the briefest of moments in anger but otherwise he retained his composure. The vampiric assassins jittered around him as if sensing their master’s anger but knew well enough to remain silent.

Holding out his hand towards one of the assassins, the vampire stepped forward to Hooper and presented him with a datapad before returning to his position behind his master. Hooper powered on the pad and began reading the information as it scrolled by.

“The names and last known whereabouts of the vampires responsible for the most recent…..” the voice paused for a moment to consider his words, “breaches; as you requested.”

“Breaches!?”

Morgan looked towards the speaker to find that it was young Flint who now spoke brazenly; his outrage at the dismissiveness of the vampire beyond constraint.

“Your kind slaughtered three colony worlds and left a damn near hundred young bloods to ravage the rest of the planet it a blood fueled ram-

“FLINT!!!”

Flint stopped himself as Hooper shouted at him and fixed him with the hardest stare he had.

“Shut. Up. Now.” he spoke through gritted teeth.

Not expecting this from his mentor, Flint looked confused and upset before relenting and resuming his silence. Hooper turned back to Morgan who had remained silent during the outburst.

“My…..apologies, for my protégés outburst;” Hooper said much to the surprise of Markus and Flint, “he still needs to learn how these matters are conducted.”

Morgan grinned, an expression that made Flint’s hand twitch towards his own gun, and waved away Hooper’s apology.

“Think nothing of it.” He replied to Hooper, before tilting and looking directly at Flint. “And I would go so far as to state that I agree with their assessment entirely.”

Whatever the trio had been expecting the vampire to say during these dealings, a formal apology was not amongst them. It was rare for a vampire to admit they were wrong, let alone agree with a mere mortal.

“Since the discovery of space travel the vampire conclave has found it increasingly difficult to keep its members in line.” Morgan began as he paced around the meeting area. He would stop every now and then to look at the ground before bending down to pick up a stone of unremarkable appearance before casually tossing it aside.

“On Earth such acts of carnage were contained and swiftly dealt with to maintain the balance, but now; as the universe opens up around us some of our kind see worlds as their own private feasting grounds.”

“Can’t keep your house in order?” Hooper mocked.

In a blink of an eye Morgan vanished from his position opposite Hooper and appeared with his hand inches from the hunter’s throat. The hunter could smell the sulfur radiating off the vampire and knew he had struck a nerve. He could see the crimson color of Morgan’s eyes and felt the vampire was using every ounce of his strength to resist feeding on Hooper.

Markus, Flint, and the vampire assassins all readied themselves as if battle would ensue but Hooper held up a hand to stall his companions.

“You would be wise to remember your place.” Morgan spoke through gritted teeth. His sharpened fangs protruding from his mouth with each syllable ready to dig deep into Hooper’s neck and drink of his blood. A notion Hooper was well aware of and had his right hand firmly priming a garlic grenade in his pocket to dissuade the vampire should he press further.

“The vampire conclave is handling the dealings of our kind on a hundred worlds across a dozen star systems. Your continued existence is merely a byproduct of our generosity for allowing you to live long enough to spread humans to more worlds to feast on.”

“There’s plenty of alien’s out there too,” Hooper said calmly, “why the special interest in us “lowly” humans?”

“They are..” Morgan spoke as he slowly pulled away from Hooper and the hunter eased off the garlic grenade, “incompatible.”

“That didn’t seem to bother the werewolves.” Hooper pointed out. “Nor zombies for that matter; those buggers will eat just about anything.”

Morgan sighed deeply and run his hands over his face as if he was about to speak slowly to a small child.

“I do not have the time nor patience to explain why human blood is the desired choice for my kind; just know that it is the will of the conclave to see your species continued existence to serve us in the coming millennia.”

He tapped the datapad Hooper still held in his other hand with a long finger ending with a sharpened fingernail that looked like it could cut steel as if it was cardboard.

“A decree that some of my kind are now putting at risk by their rampant blood feasts. If we do not pool our resources now they will exterminate the entirety of the human population leaving us without a crucial food source.”

“And here I thought you just enjoyed our company.” Hooper said begrudgingly. “So your only wish to keep using humans is for vampire food?”

Morgan paused to collect his thoughts, debating internally if he should share the new information with his hunter adversaries.

“There is another reason,” Morgan spoke slowly having made up his mind, “and it is with regards to alien blood.”

This peeked Hooper’s interest and he motioned for the vampire to continue.

“During your encounter with the werewolves from your previous…adventures, did you not see aliens infected by their mark?”

“We did.” Hooper replied, unsure were Morgan was going with this.

“We have discovered similarly, that when the blood curse is applied to nonhuman species the results can be……detrimental.”

“Meaning?” Hooper asked impatiently.

“The curse changes aliens in ways we have not seen before, and at times these new abominations have abilities far beyond even our elder’s capabilities to contain.”

This was grave news that Hooper could hardly believe. A vampire elder, or leader of the conclave, was easily thousands of years old and possessed enough strength and skill that centuries ago it had taken the entire order of hunters to destroy just one of their number. To hear that these beings of unimaginable destruction were being hard pressed by newly turned alien vampires was something that filled Hooper with a sense of dread he had not known in decades.

“You see our problem now.” Morgan spoke, seeing that the hunter finally realized what is at stake. “If we do not correct these divergences now, we may see a galactic scale level of devastation.”

“And to show you we are not joking,” Morgan continued as one by one the vampire assassins began vanishing into smoke leaving the area until only Morgan remained, “we brought you one to see firsthand.”

A loud roar thundered through the valley and the trio of hunters all reached for their weapons. In the distance they could see an ever growing mound of flesh thrashing towards them. Rows of teeth catching the light as it stampeded towards the gathering and Hooper caught sight of a pair of bright crimson eyes that he had seen just now in Morgan’s visage.

“Au revoir, Mr. Hooper.”

Hooper turned back to see Morgan vanishing into smoke, laughing as the tyrant alien vampire continued thundering towards the hunters.

#humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #scifi #story #writing #original writing #vampires #hunters #mythology #niqhtlord01 #ai image #ai generated art #space vampires

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shadyruinskryptonite · 1 year ago

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Titan Bending Chapter 5

Warning: Violence consistent with cannon, NSFW so MDNI, language, major character death (both consistent with canon of both AOT and ATLA as well as diverging from canon), so much trauma literally everyone is so traumatized, very much slow burn, a little enemies to lovers, SO MUCH ANGST, hurt/comfort, hurt and delayed comfort, AFAB reader

Chapter Warnings: punching, anger, talks of childhood fighting

A/N: Switching my post days to Fridays instead of Mondays, I think I'll like this better and hopefully more people will be able to see it this way

WC: 2100

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

Masterlist

Tags: @mochminnie

Levi shifts a little and I can tell he’s glancing over his shoulder to see who might be bothering him. I’m not sure if he didn’t really realize it was me or if he didn’t care, but he just returned to his original position without acknowledging me. I roll my eyes and turn to go back inside, when my own thoughts stop me.

Ya know what? I’ll be damned if this little shit is going to ruin my night. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.

Turning back, I wordlessly take a seat next to him. I can see from my peripheral vision that he glares at me, but stays silent himself. We sit there for a prolonged period of time, lost in our own thoughts. After a while, I successfully forget he’s next to me and my mind drifts as I stare at the moon and stars. The sight of a familiar constellation brings a smile to my face and reminds me of pointing out constellations with Zuko and Iroh.

I hope the Gaang is okay. At least, even if I never get to see them again, I know that we sleep under the same sky full of stars.

I sigh and pull my knees to my chest, closing my eyes.

“Are you cold?” Levi’s voice cuts through the silence and makes me jump.

I turn to look at him and see that he’s already staring at me. Caught off guard by what seems like genuine worry for my condition, I stutter out “Oh, uh, no. No, I’m alright. Just…just thinking.” I trail off and return my eyes to the sky. Now aware that he’s next to me, I can feel Levi still looking at me.

“About?” he asks curtly.

I turn back to him with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh?” I utter.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks again, just as short as before.

I snort at his audacity. “You know, if you don’t want to talk to me you don’t have to. YOU are the one that started speaking to ME just now,” I say before pausing and quietly adding “if you must know though, I’m just thinking about my friends back home.” I glance off again, opting to remain vague.

He doesn’t need to know more than that. He’s lucky I’ve even told him this much.

Silence falls over us again, but this time it’s me that breaks it. “What about you? You’ve been sitting here quietly longer than I have, what is it that you’re thinking about?” I ask.

He sizes me up before giving me an equally vague answer, “I come up here so I can get away from thinking for awhile.”

I nod in understanding. After a moment, I speak both in response to Levi and to no one in particular, “stargazing is really calming. I do it any time I need to clear my mind, too.”

The quiet settles back in, and after what feels like a lifetime, I can see the tiniest sliver of light over the horizon. My eyes start to get heavy and a yawn escapes. Stretching, I stand up and go to leave, but not before turning to Levi one last time and quickly and quietly bidding him a goodnight. Before he has a chance to respond, I go back inside and wander back to my room.

Stripping out of my outside clothes, I put on the only t-shirt and shorts that I own outside of my daily outfit. I collapse back in bed, grateful that I don’t have windows to allow any light in. I drift to sleep almost immediately.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

The sound of two quick pounds on my door startles me. Without bothering to get out of bed, I roll over and groan, “who is it and what the hell do you want?”

A voice I don’t recognize responds, “Uh, it’s- it’s Jean. Captain Levi sent me to come get you for training.”

I groan again. I feel my eyes closing against my will, and I scratch out, “Well, you can tell Levi that he can shove it.”

There’s a pause.

“Um, I uh, I don’t uh, that-”

Aggravated, I throw off the blanket and stomp to the door, throwing it open. I have to shade my eyes against the onslaught of light. Once my eyes adjust I can see that this is one of the kids that was sitting with us yesterday. “What seems to be the problem, Jean? And good god, what time is it?”

“It’s uh, 8AM. And it’s, it’s just that, if I go back without you, I’ll get in trouble with the captain,” he rambles on.

I rub my face again and question further, “you really are telling me that YOU will get yelled at because of MY response?” He vigorously nods. I sigh and throw on my shoes without bothering to put on socks or tie them.

Marching towards the training field, it looks like I’m the one leading this poor child around. The closer we get, the angrier I become. Walking onto the field, Jean goes and joins his friends and I see that Eren, Armin, and the black haired girl are among them. But I don’t stop. I am practically stomping my way over to Levi and it’s not until I’m almost on top of him that he even bothers to glance at me. Big mistake.

He hasn’t even turned to look at me entirely when my fist connects with his face. Hard. I practically spin him and I can tell he’s genuinely surprised. I don’t register the silence that’s fallen across the field.

“Listen here you little shit! You seem to be the only person that doesn’t comprehend that I’m not a soldier. I trained last night. Alone. And probably harder than any training you are having these children do. And, speaking of children, how DARE you scare that poor boy so badly over being a fucking messenger! Your subordinates don’t respect you, they fear you and that makes you a piss poor leader. But I’ll tell you this now, I’m not afraid of you like everyone else around here seems to be. So if you have a problem with me, you come and deal with it like a real fucking man, don’t send one of them that’s petrified to tell you something you don’t want to hear.”

I don’t allow him a chance to respond before I turn on my heel and storm off of the field. It’s only as I’m walking away that I see the pure shock on everyone’s faces.

Why the hell is everyone here so concerned about this man? Just because he’s an asshole doesn’t mean jack shit!

When I get back to my room, I finally allow myself to shake out my hand. I quickly heal my aching knuckles and have the fleeting thought that I definitely punched him harder than I intended. I realize I cannot be bothered with this thought and flop back into bed, falling asleep again in no time at all.

By the time I wake back up, it’s most of the way through the afternoon. I throw on my clothes and walk next door to Hange’s lab where I find her toiling away at god knows what. When she sees me, she screeches and claps her hands.

“Levi might hate you but, god, I absolutely just LOVE you! That was legendary! No one stands up to him, but that’s because we’re all just used to him. But you! You are really shaking things up around here.”

She speaks so quickly that it takes me a moment to process everything she’s saying, but when I do I smile and say “he’s just been nothing but rude to me from minute one and I’m tired of it. I guess the line for me is that I don’t like how he was treating those kids. Why is everyone so intimidated by him anyway?”

“Oh, he’s intimidating alright. He has the highest kill count of any of the Scouts. He’s widely known as Humanity’s Strongest Soldier and is insanely talented with the ODM gear and just in any kind of battle situation. He has the record for the fastest time on our training course. Well, he did until yesterday that is.”

All I can muster is a distant “huh,” although I don’t think Hange even heard it as she continued talking.

“He’s not all that bad though. He honestly really cares but he’d never say that. Everyone does really look up to him and respect him, despite how it might seem, because at the end of the day he’s earned it.”

I mull over Hange’s words, suddenly feeling a bit guilty about calling him out in front of everyone. She must have noticed and quickly tries to reassure me by saying, “don’t worry though Y/N, if anyone can take a punch and some criticism, it’s Levi. Come on, it’s got to be about time for dinner.” I smile at her as we head to the dining hall.

Dinner was normal, save for the kids really seeming amazed at what I did and said to Levi. This only makes me worry more about my earlier actions. After finishing up, I head to Levi’s quarters instead of my own. I hesitate but ultimately knock quickly.

“Name and business,” he calls from the other side of the door.

“It’s, uh, it’s Y/N.” I rub my neck as I wait for his response. There’s a long pause before he finally invites me in with clear hesitation in his voice.

I enter slowly and see that his office and bedroom space is immaculate. I try not to pry by looking around and instead glance at him.

Damn, if looks could kill.

“What do you want?” Levi asks when I don’t say anything for a moment.

“I, uh,” I take a deep breath to steady myself and meet glare with a soft gaze. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I was frustrated that my terms for working with the scouts weren’t being respected. Additionally, these kids are all about the same age as my friends back home, so I think I took Jean’s concern about potential consequences personally. Even so, it wasn’t right for me to do and say that in front of your entire squad. No matter what my opinions are, I shouldn’t have aired that out publicly and undermined your authority. All of this is to say: I’m sorry, and I can assure you that it won’t happen again.”

I pause awkwardly for a minute as he blinks at me. The anger seems to have left his eyes but I can’t place the emotion that replaced it. As I’m trying to decode his expression, it dawns on me that there’s a pretty nasty bruise on his face from where I hit him. I grimace at it and quickly add, “shit, I’m also sorry that I punched you a lot harder than I actually intended to. Here,” I approach to get a better look at it and he backs away.

“The least I can do is heal it up so you don’t have this nasty bruise,” I lean forward as I inspect the bruise and this time he lets me. I collect a bit of water before asking, “may I?”

He simply nods in response. I bring my hand up to his face and he closes his eyes. My water begins to glow and I can tell for a split second it hurts before the pain begins to dissipate. As I continue healing him, he surprises me by beginning to speak.

“I’ve been hit more than my fair share, but never quite that hard. Where’d you learn to punch like that?”

I chuckle as I finish healing him. When I’m done, I lean back and smile before I shrug and say, “I used to fight for money. As a 12 year old girl, you’ve gotta be able to hit pretty hard if you wanna stand a chance against grown men.”

He continues to stare at me as I walk away. With my hand on the door, I turn back to him and say, “I’m still going to train on my own, but I’ll try to be more of a team player. I’ll help the team clean each day from here on out, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of Hange’s experiments. Have a good evening Levi.”

I step out of his quarters, leaving him seemingly shaken by something I said or did. I chuckle to myself and get ready to train for the night.

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ashes-2-ashes57cba · 25 days ago

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The Bad Batch: Valkyrie

Episode 8: The Crossing

edited by @ryleeeeeenn warnings: dislocated shoulder

It was hotter and dustier than Specter would have liked, but the Batch was in no station to complain. They all carefully exited the Marauder and followed Hunter down the rocky path along the canyon.

“According to Cid’s coordinates, this is the mine she purchased,” Tech announced as they came upon the entrance.

“And we’re supposed to do what?” Omega questioned while he climbed up the steps to the terminal.

“Excavate the site for ipsium. It is tremendously valuable when refined. However, in its raw state, the mineral is highly combustible, like a primed thermal detonator,” Tech recited, unlocking the door.

“Sounds dangerous,” Wrecker laughed, “I like it!” Specter smiled underneath her helmet, glad at least two of them were still in a decent mood. Since Echo left, the Batch felt more unbalanced than ever, and it did nothing to boost morale. Cid gave them no time to recover and gave them this mission as soon as they stepped foot in the parlor. Wrecker and Specter did their best to ease tensions, but there was only so much they could do as they made the trip in silence.

She eyed the massive door as it gave entrance to the dark and looming mine. Despite the general somber mood, Specter felt comfort in the darkness; she felt powerful when she could squeeze in and out of any space unseen and spy for hours on end. However next to her, Omega reached for her hand, shifting uncomfortably at the sight. Specter gave her a reassuring squeeze before noticing Hunter had turned away from the group and crouched to the ground, eyeing the horizon.

“Problem?” Tech came down from the terminal to ask.

“The storm’s moving away from us. We should be fine,” Hunter said, slowly standing up.

“How do you think we should split, Sarge?” Specter asked, eyeing the distant dust.

“You, me, and Tech will mine the ipsium. Wrecker, Omega, you’re on lookout.”

“If I may differ,” Tech interjected, “without Echo, we are a man down. We need Wrecker to assist with operations inside the mine.” Specter tensed; bringing up Echo didn’t help, but insinuating that she wasn’t enough to get the job done hurt just as bad.

“He and I can switch,” she said, dejected. Hunter held up a hand, sighing.

“Cid warned us about poachers in the area. I would feel better if at least Wrecker was out here.” Omega looked up between them all, mostly at Tech, who had slouched in defeat an admitted-

“Specter will be able to provide adequate assistance.” Hunter nodded. Specter was glad his original plan would work out.

“Keep your eyes peeled and comm us if you see anyone,” Hunter instructed, taking the heavy equipment from Wrecker. And with that they split off; Hunter, Tech, and Specter made their way into the darkness of the mine with only dim lanterns to light their way. She wondered how they would have tackled this job if Echo were still with them but she shook the thought out of her head, she had enough distractions already, watching Hunter readjust his grip on the equipment case was one of them.

“My scans are not indicating a sizable presence of ipsium,” Tech reported, looking up from his scanner.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Cid was deceived into purchasing a mine that was already depleted,” Specter said. “It wouldn’t be the first time we became her punching bags after a deal gone wrong.”

“Keep scanning. We’ll extract whatever we can,” said Hunter. He spared a glance at Specter, who kept an eye on the surrounding cave walls; he could have easily ordered her to scout ahead, but he wanted to keep her within his sights.

“Wait,” Tech stopped them, “I am getting a faint reading.” They watched as he scanned the chamber, pinpointing their target. “There,” he pointed to a small patch, high in the wall. The three approached, leaning up against the wall to get a better view.

“That might be difficult to reach,” Specter commented.

“We’ll need to carve out a bigger opening in the rock to get to it,” Hunter suggested.

“The mineral is far too unstable. Even the slightest friction around it can cause a destructive chain reaction,” Tech refuted.

“Then what do you suggest?” Hunter questioned before they both slowly turned to look at Specter.

“Yeah, I’ll give it a shot,” she said after analyzing the tight space. She took off her helmet, pack, and axe, and began to climb the scaffolding, carefully finding her footing between the rock and metal. Hunter climbed up and handed her the mining tool.

“Drill into the fossilized quartz until you reach the active ipsium inside,” Tech instructed as she prepped the drill. “But you must be precise. If the mineral becomes compromised during retrieval-”

“Chain reaction, explosion. I know, Tech,” Specter said, rolling her eyes. Carefully she broke through the quartz and started drilling.

“Be very careful,” Hunter slowly warned.

“Hush, love, I’m concentrating,” she replied just as slowly. Once she reached the glowing mineral inside, Specter switched the drill out for the containment vial, drawing in the glowing material from the crevice. Once the vial was full, she maneuvered herself out of the tight space and hooked her legs around the scaffolding, hanging upside down to present the ipsium to the boys.

“Good,” Tech complimented, taking the vial from her and handing her an empty one. “Again.”

“The storm’s changing course,” Wrecker reported as Tech, Hunter, and Specter, emerged from the mine. Specter stretched out her arms and neck while Hunter lugged the ipsium they harvested over his shoulder.

“The weather patterns on this planet are most irregular,” Tech said.

“We have what we came here for,” Hunter continued, handing the ipsium to Wrecker. “Let’s get back to Ord Mantell.”

A second later his head snapped up.

“Spec!” he called. She joined him in jumping off the platform and running toward where the Marauder was hidden, running as fast as they could. She overtook him, hearing the engines powering up against the wind

No! Specter pushed herself, pumping her arms harder and making her stance longer; but it wasn’t enough. They watched as the Marauder flew away from them.

“Stop!” Omega cried, just as she and the others caught up. Specter slumped over with her hands on her knees, catching her breath.

“You were supposed to be on lookout,” Hunter immediately turned to scold Wrecker.

“There was no one there!” he tried to defend.

“Clearly that was not the case,” Tech refuted.

“There has to be a way to get it back, right?” Omega asked as Hunter took off his helmet. Specter knew he didn’t have an answer. None of them did. Their silence said enough, with the only noise coming from the distant sandstorm.

“Tell me, Wrecker, how exactly did you miss our ship being compromised?” Tech asked, half in rhetoric and half in genuine curiosity.

“Maybe if you hadn’t docked it out of view, I would have seen someone approaching.”

“Well, there was no other suitable landing zone, Wrecker.”

“Both of you stop it, this isn’t going to solve anything!” Specter snapped at both of them, breaking up their argument. “Hunter, we can’t stay here. We didn’t ration our supplies for this.”

“Where’s the nearest town?” Hunter asked Tech.

“During our approach, I scanned a spaceport approximately 40 klicks south of here. Perhaps we can acquire transport there,” he said, looking through his data pad.

“You know how long that would take?” asked Wrecker, rhetorically.

“Well, since we do not have access to long-range communications without our ship, it is our only option.” Hunter sighed, contemplating their next steps.

“Spec? You’ve got the stamina and have trained for long distance. What are our chances before supplies run out?” he asked.

“Well…” she winced, looking among the group, “it’ll be rough but it can be done. Stay in shaded areas if we can, keep helmets on for sun protection and to preserve any sort of cooling, keep our energy low. My main concern is water, but if we time it right, when we run out we’ll reach the spaceport before dehydration sets in.” Specter looked at Hunter; she could tell he was tired and worried, but she had faith. “I think we’ll manage.”

“Alright. Then let’s move.”

Specter kept an even pace beside Hunter in front of the group, keeping her eyes level with the ground ahead of them. The sun was at its zenith, the heat peaked along with it, but the overhanging rocks in the canyon provided merciful breaks of shade.

She let her thoughts wander to the Valkyrie file, remembering the extensive training program that she would have taken in order to ensure she could survive anything; the Kaminoans selected only a few to undergo the endurance training they curated, young Specter being one of them. She wondered if it was because of the true nature of her creation that prompted them to push her to her limits. Running fast was one thing, but her trainers ensured that she knew how to pace herself for marathons in various environments as well.

The sound of the water canteen behind her was a temptation to break her timed sip, but Omega and Wrecker needed it.

“How much further?” the latter groaned.

“You will not like the answer,” Tech replied.

“Havoc-5, this is Havoc-6. Do you copy?” Omega tried into the comm. “Echo? Are you there?”

“He’s too long-range. Echo won’t pick up our signal,” said Hunter.

“Especially since he disabled his communication device,” added Tech.

“What? Why?” Omega questioned. Specter noticed Hunter slowing his pace, tilting his head as he sensed something.

“I assume he’s on a sensitive mission,” Tech shrugged. Hunter held up a hand, signaling for the group to stop. The ground felt off under Specter’s feet.

“What’s that?” Wrecker wondered as they turned to face whatever was causing the canyon to rumble.

A stampede.

“Run!” Hunter shouted, ushering Omega forward. They started running, but the herd quickly caught up to them, surrounding them and bumping their sides as they passed.

“Up there!” Specter shouted, pointing to connecting rocks up above. Hunter threw his grappling hook, anchoring it to the rock and letting Omega climb up first. Specter followed, then Hunter, then Tech. Wrecker threw his hook but not before tripping and falling beneath the thundering hooves.

“Wrecker!” Omega shouted.

“I can’t see him!” added Specter, swinging over to his line to give Tech more space. Finally, Wrecker broke free and began to climb up, without their prize.

“You must protect the ipsium case!” Tech shouted.

“Oh, come on!” Specter groaned.

“Well, what about protecting me?” Wrecker argued.

“If it explodes, we’ll all be dead!” Specter hated when Tech was right, but found a sliver of grace.

“I can see the end of the herd! Just for a little while, Wrecker!” she encouraged. He groaned but jumped down, covering the case with his body and letting the creatures run him over. Specter watched as the stampede rumbled past; she worried for a brief moment that she was wrong somehow and that the herd would continue for longer than she thought. But Wrecker was built to be tough, and she had to trust him on that.

Specter breathed a sigh of relief as the herd dissipated and the last of the creatures bounded over Wrecker, ipsium case still intact.

“My back,” Wrecker groaned, slowly standing up.

“I would advise not dropping it next time,” Tech bluntly pointed out.

“Why don’t you carry it?” Wrecker bit back as Specter descended from the grappling line. Beside her, Hunter helped Omega down.

“Fine.” Tech shrugged and hauled the case over his shoulder. Specter shook her head at his stubbornness.

“Hook!” Specter called, grabbing the grappling lines.

“Line,” the other Batchers replied, taking a few steps back and covering their heads.

“Sinker!” She whipped the lines, unanchoring the grappling hooks from the rock. Once they fell to the ground, the Batch gathered around again: Wrecker and Hunter wound up their lines before hearing another commotion. They turned to see the storm from earlier drawing near. Lightning and thunder rumbled.

“Well, that would certainly explain the stampede,” Tech said as dust started to funnel into the canyon. They broke out into another run just before they were surrounded by pebbles and dirt.

“Ow!” Wrecker cried as a larger rock hit his side.

“Omega, get upwind of me!” Specter ordered, shielding her from any debris, wincing at the rocks that pounded against her back. Visibility decreased significantly, there seemed to be no end in sight.

“We need to find shelter!” Hunter shouted.

“There is another mine. Thirty meters ahead!” Tech said.

“I see it!” Omega confirmed. They diverted course, heading toward the mine entrance. Specter heard a grunt, turning to find Tech had fallen and dropped the case.

“Tech!” she shouted into the wind. Wrecker came around and helped him up, dragging him toward the mine.

“The case!” Tech cried as they had left it behind.

“Forget it!” Wrecker protested. Specter guided them over, helping them up the rocks and into the mine entrance. She looked back, seeing the case shudder against the wind, contemplating making a run for it to grab it. “Come on!” Wrecker shouted, holding out his hand for her. She took it, letting him help her inside.

“Where’s the ipsium?” Omega wondered. The volatile case blew closer to the cave, with bright lightning striking closer and closer. The wind picked up the ipsium… right over the mouth of the cave.

“Get down!” Hunter cried, just as the case exploded from a bolt of lightning and rocks came tumbling down.

It was dark, but she didn’t need to see to know her arm was in severe pain. She whimpered as she tried to move it. Specter’s right shoulder was dislocated. She realized she must have been too close to the entrance just as the rocks fell; one of them must have hit her shoulder just right. Moving her feet, she found her legs were under some rocks, but not crushed in any way. She just couldn’t move.

Ahead of her, Hunter lit a lantern and the others moved themselves upright, dusting themselves off.

“Hunter,” she called, just as the pain in her shoulder flickered down her spine. He turned.

“Specter!” he cried, dropping the lantern and rushing to her side. Wrecker joined him, helping to pull her out. She screamed in pain as they pulled on her right arm, they immediately pulled their hands away, unaware of what happened. “What’s wrong?” Hunter asked as she propped herself up with only one arm.

“Omega, turn away,” was all she said. The girl obeyed. Specter slammed her shoulder into the cave wall, setting it back into place. She caught her breath as the pain dissipated to a dull ache. “Dislocated shoulder,” she wheezed, giving a thumbs up. Omega turned back around, wincing at the sight.

“Here,” said Hunter, taking off his scarf and turning it into a sling.

“So, now we are trapped. Specter dislocated her shoulder-”

“I put it back!”

“-and we have lost all of our ipsium,” Tech continued.

“Well, I- I suppose that’s my fault too?” said Wrecker.

“Well, technically, yes. If you had not let our ship get stolen, we would be aboard it right now with the mineral,” argued Tech. Specter looked between the two and sighed, putting a hand on Omega’s shoulder.

“None of this is helping,” Hunter stopped them. “Let’s start digging our way outta here.”

“Fine,” Wrecker grumbled, stepping forward to start moving the boulders.

Specter found it tricky to work with only one arm… it made her miss Echo. She was certain he would have found it amusing to see her struggle.

She thought they had made good progress, but the pile of rocks blocking their path seemed endless. While the ache in her right shoulder was manageable, soreness in her working left shoulder started to form. She stepped away, resting her axe against the wall and taking a moment to center herself and wipe her brow.

“Something’s not right,” Omega said, pacing back and forth with Tech’s data pad in hand. “The Marauder’s transponder isn’t relaying a signal.”

“It was probably disabled by the thief who commandeered it,” Tech theorized, giving a pointed glance at Wrecker, who growled in response.

“Well, then how are we gonna track it?” Omega wondered.

“The ship’s not important right now. We gotta get outta here first,” Hunter redirected.

“Quite correct,” Tech nodded, “Besides, it is most unlikely that the Marauder will be recovered.”

“Tech! That is uncalled for!” Specter snapped.

“Don’t say that. We have to get it back!” Omega cried.

“We can always acquire another ship. It is merely a mode of transportation,” Tech bluntly suggested.

“The Marauder’s our home.” Omega stepped closer, upset at his lack of empathy. “We already lost Echo. We can’t lose that too.”

“Omega,” Hunter said, gently, “we didn’t lose Echo. He’s just on a different mission.”

“But he’s not here. He’s… he’s not with us. We’re supposed to be a squad.” Specter could see Omega was on the verge of tears.

“This squad existed before Echo was a part of it, and it will exist after,” Tech said. She didn’t like his tone, but found there was a sort of comforting truth to it. “What is your issue?” The comfort was gone. Specter glared at him, but the look Omega gave Tech put her anger to shame. She tossed Tech his data pad and turned to leave.

Hunter went to follow her, “Omega-”

“I want to be alone,” she grumbled.

“Let her go, love,” Specter put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from wanting to follow the girl. He, Specter, and Wrecker all turned, angrily looking at Tech.

“I merely stated the truth,” he defended.

“She already knows the truth. That’s why she’s upset,” Hunter bit back.

“We just lost a team member and our ship, and you ask her what her issue is?” Specter hissed. “Tech, she is a young girl going through a hard time right now. She’s not like you where she can just turn off her emotions and not care about anything!” His eyes widened at the outburst. “Just get back to work so we can get out of here,” she muttered, her anger flickering away to exhaustion. The excitement of running from the stampede and the storm, and the pain of dislocating her shoulder depleted her energy reserves.

But she shook her head and grabbed her axe, ready to work again, until Hunter stopped her.

“I’d feel better if you rested for a while,” he muttered.

“Hunter, I’m not that fragile,” she insisted, almost laughing at the idea. But he gave her a pointed look; he was still worried about her. Specter sighed. “Fine, okay, I’ll sit down. Look at me, resting.” She threw up her hand and slouched against the crate by the lanterns, watching the boys continue to work.

“It’ll take days to clear a path at this rate,” Tech groaned, trying and failing to push a boulder with his legs.

“Complaining won’t make it go faster,” Hunter said.

“This operation could use a well-placed detonation. A small amount of ipsium would be more than enough.”

“Well, we had a small amount but somebody dropped it,” Wrecker easily moved Tech’s boulder out of the way. Specter chuckled from her spot.

“Fine. Since losing the mineral was my mistake, I’ll search for any potential extractions within this mine,” Tech shrugged, hopping down from the pile.

“That’s not the only thing you need to fix,” Hunter said.

“Yeah, go check on the kid,” added Wrecker.

“But she said she wanted to be alone,” Tech said, confused by what they wanted him to do. Hunter and Wrecker looked at Specter.

“Don’t look at me, I already said my piece,” she said, holding up her hand. Hunter sighed.

“Look, she’s clearly having a hard time adjusting to Echo leaving. Talk to her,” Hunter said.

“Very well.” Tech grabbed his pack and helmet, heading deeper into the mine to find Omega. They watched him go, once he was out of sight, Wrecker climbed to the top of the pile, working on dislodging a larger boulder. Specter propped herself up, ready to get to work again.

“Hey, Hunter,” she called, “my shoulder’s feeling a lot better, here’s your scarf back.” He came around, letting her put his red scarf back around his neck, setting it into place. He watched her carefully, letting that warm feeling overcome him.

“Hey,” he muttered, “Can we talk about–”

“Talk about what?” Stars, please don’t bring up the–

“The kiss?”

Kriff.

“Hunter, I–” she began, finding herself at a loss for words. “Is now really the best time?”

“We may not get any other time.” Her hands stopped moving. She blushed in the darkness and prayed it wasn’t too obvious to Hunter’s heightened senses.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hanging her head. “It felt right in the moment. I don’t know what came over me. I–” She went to ramble on but found herself silenced by Hunter gently tilting her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. Her breath caught in her chest, heart pounding as he slowly brought her closer, just barely brushing his lips against her in a ghost of a kiss. One she was sure would haunt her in dreams to come.

“Hunter–” she breathed, tilting her head.

“I want this. I want you,” he mumbled. Before she could utter another word, he closed the gap between their lips, kissing her softly and gently holding the side of her face. She leaned into his touch as all the pain and shadows melted into a distant memory. She kissed him back, melting into his touch.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. Specter’s eyes fluttered open, bright and sparkling. She giggled, her nose brushing against his.

“So… are we going to talk about that one?” she teased, breathless.

“I’d rather just kiss you,” Hunter replied, low and soft.

“Let’s make it a habit, then.”

“A little help!” Wrecker grunted, struggling to push the boulder free. The pair snapped into action, Hunter joining his brother in pushing the rock while Specter grabbed her axe, carefully climbing up the pile before swinging at the rocks, dislodging the boulder enough for the boys to push it down and away. “Why don’t I give that thing a shot?” Wrecker pointed enthusiastically at the weapon; Specter cradled it close.

“Absolutely not!”

The excitement and motivation didn’t last long, soon enough they were tired and hopeless once more. The three pushed a particularly heavy boulder away before sitting down to catch their breath. Wrecker took another sip from the canteen while Specter rested against Hunter. She went to look up at him, but found he was staring down the darkness of the mine.

“What is it, Hunter?” Wrecker asked, noticing as well. Hunter said nothing, only grabbing his comm.

“Tech, come in,” he called. No reply.

“Omega, do you copy?” Specter tried on hers. Still no reply.

“Something’s wrong,” Hunter affirmed. The three grabbed their gear and went to find their missing teammates.

“I’m sure Omega wouldn’t have gone too far,” Specter was certain of it in fact. She traced the roughly carved stone, trying to echo what she thought Omega would have done. The boys continued down the main path, but Specter stopped where another tunnel appeared. It was dark and isolating.

“Spec?” Hunter asked once he noticed she wasn’t following.

“This way,” she said, just above a whisper.

“How can you be sure?” Wrecker wondered.

“It’s dark,” she said, “and she wanted to be alone. It’s where I would have gone.”

“I think you’re right,” Hunter affirmed, kneeling at the entrance. “Look. There’s fresh scuff marks, about the width of Tech’s boots. Tech, Omega, do you copy?” he asked again into the comm.

“Affirmative,” Tech finally came through, sounding winded. Specter and Wrecker audibly sighed with relief. “We took an unforeseen detour, but we are alive.”

“Where are you guys?” Specter asked.

“That is a good question. Stand by.” The three made their way down the tunnel as they waited for a response, looking for any other sign. “Hunter, we found an alternate way out, but you will need to retrieve our gear.”

“Found it,” Wrecker said a moment later, finding Omega and Tech’s helmets and packs on the ground by a small entrance to another chamber. Specter checked and found a few more vials of ipsium glowing in Omega’s satchel.

“Alright, Tech. We’ve got the gear and the ipsium,” Hunter reported.

“Good. Next you’ll need to carefully scale down the narrow crevasse and descend into the aqueduct below. You will come upon us once the rapids eject you over the waterfall. But you must not compromise the mineral vials or you will perish,” Tech instructed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Wrecker groaned, peeking into the adjacent chamber.

“Hang tight. We’re on our way,” Hunter assured before putting away his comm. Wrecker shook his head.

“I hate this planet!”

“I’m with you, I just dyed my hair,” Specter agreed, mumbling. “Stand back,” she warned, taking her axe and striking the thin layer of rock. It crumbled away, leading them to an outcropping overlooking a deep cavern. The sound of water echoed up into the chamber.

“How’s the current looking?” Hunter asked.

“It’s not,” Specter scoffed, “I can’t see a thing down there! Let alone the current…but…” she trailed off, searching for something in her pack. “Aha!”

“What’s that?” Wrecker asked.

“Emergency glow-sticks?” Hunter realized.

“I think this constitutes enough of an emergency,” she said, bending the sticks and shaking them, letting the chemicals mix and the insides emit a bright pink glow.

“Clever,” Hunter complimented, smiling under his helmet. “Are we ready?”

“Yessir!” Wrecker and Specter answered simultaneously.

“Alright, drop ‘em in Spec.” She let go of the glowsticks, they watched as they splashed in the black water and began to float away. Wrecker was the first to dive in; Hunter gave Specter’s hand a quick squeeze before they both jumped in after their teammate.

Tech and Omega sat quietly, listening to the water, contemplating what they had discussed. It was a moment of peace until Wrecker’s screams grew louder and louder. The waterfall spit him out, along with Hunter and Specter. Three gasped for air and made their way over to the beach, catching their breath.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Omega comforted Wrecker as he coughed and gave a thumbs up. Specter yanked off her helmet and tried to shine her light on her hair.

“Did my hair dye wash out?” she, almost frantically, asked. Omega giggled and gave Specter a quick hug.

“It looks fine, Specter,” she assured. Specter smiled and kissed the top of the girl’s head, happy to see she was okay. A few steps away, Tech grabbed his pack and inspected his helmet for any damage; she sighed, knowing she had to say something. When Omega had gone to check on Hunter, she stepped towards him, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence.

“We saw your emergency glow-sticks. I assume they were to track the current?” he asked. She nodded.

“Tech, I-” Specter stopped herself, trying to find the words to reach him, “I’m sorry, for calling you apathetic.” He seemed surprised at her apology. “I know that you process things a lot differently than we do. I was just stressed and I let it get to me.”

“I wish to apologize as well,” he said, adjusting his goggles. “It wasn’t until my discussion with Omega that made me realize that how I process and express my emotions negatively affected my team. I know I cannot change my fundamental self, but I will make an effort to keep you in mind.” Specter smiled.

“You said you had an alternate way out?” Hunter asked, coming close.

“Ah, yes. We will need a vial of ipsium.” Tech already scurried off, grabbing the mineral. Hunter turned to Specter, she nodded that everything was alright. “That spot up there should do the trick,” Tech said, pointing up to a ledge in the cave wall.

“Hunter, can you help me up?” Omega called. He jogged over, lacing his hands together and lowering them for the girl to use as a platform. Specter wanted to remind her to keep her legs straight, but the girl beat her to it, reaching up and carefully setting the ipsium on the rock. As soon as it was set, they all ran for cover behind a boulder.

“How come he gets to blow it up?” Wrecker groaned as Tech took aim.

“If the shot is not precise, it will cause another cave-in,” Tech said slowly, readjusting his aim. He took a breath, waiting to fire, the others ducked and covered their heads.

He fired.

The ipsium and the rock around it exploded, revealing warm sunlight.

“Nice shot!” Specter cheered, being the first to stand and head towards the outside. The rest of them followed, taking in the fresh air and sun. “We lost a few hours, but at least the heat won’t be much of an issue,” she said, noting the sun sinking in the distance.

“That is the spaceport,” Tech pointed to a small cluster of buildings, “but there does not appear to be much activity.”

“Well, there better be some chow down there, because I’m sick of rations,” Wrecker groaned, rubbing his stomach.

“Let’s check it out,” Hunter nodded to Omega. She smiled and took the lead, guiding the others down the canyon.

It was dark by the time they made it to the spaceport; Specter’s stomach had stopped bothering to tell her that she needed to eat, but flipped at the eerie sight of the empty port. Wrecker ran ahead to a pot left over a long-dead fire, groaning in disappointment upon finding nothing inside.

“Where is everyone?” Omega wondered.

“It’s abandoned,” Hunter sighed. “For a while by the look of it.”

“We came all this way for nothing!” Wrecker cried.

“Not nothing,” said Tech, looking up at a towering post.

“Is that what I think it is?” Specter joined him.

“Indeed. I can send out a long-range transmission with that array. We might just have a way out.”

“No can do fellas. I’m tied up at the moment. You’ll have to figure it out yourselves,” Cid shrugged, apathetic to their situation.

“Cid, you sent us on this mission,” Hunter growled. Specter put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from making any more threats.

“Well, I didn’t tell you to get your ship stolen, did I?” Cid sneered. The roles were reversed as Hunter held Specter back from stepping forward and making threats.

“Cid, we need your help,” Omega pleaded.

“Just like we helped you regain control of your parlor from Roland Durand, and when we cleared your sizable debt with Millegi-”

“I didn’t ask for a recap, Goggles,” the Trandoshan interrupted. The hologram looked over the group before sighing. “Alright. Give me a few days and I’ll see what I can do.”

“We don’t have enough rations to last a few-” Cid cut the signal before she heard anything else. Specter clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“What do we do now?” Wrecker asked.

“We’ll figure it out,” Omega said with hope in her voice, “like we always do.”

In the distance, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed. Hunter faced the clouds, assessing if it would pose any threat to them; Specter grabbed his hand, interlacing her fingers through his and giving a reassuring squeeze. The rest of the squad stood beside them, ready to face the storm together.

I swear, that kiss scene had me giggling and kicking my feet. Thank you so much @ryleeeeeenn

#f!oc #star wars #star wars oc #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x oc #the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb oc #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #clone force 99

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seijorhi · 3 years ago

Text

nostos.

well it’s not exactly monster fucking but um... here there be monsters.

Kuroo Tetsurou x female reader

TW implied non-con, nsfw-ish, blood, gore, minor character death, animal death, um somebody gets munched...

Every good writer needs peace and quiet. Fresh air and a change of scenery.

You’re not running away, it’s more of a… tactical retreat. Two weeks disconnected from well meaning friends, pushy family members and your eternally irritating editor, with nothing but the beautiful, sprawling forests to keep you company.

The mountains are familiar, if isolating, you think, leaning against the porch railing with a warm mug in hand as the breeze picks up and the tall maple and birch trees rustle in response. The leaves are turning vibrant reds and gold with the falling temperatures and even in the eerie quiet of the cold morning, you can’t deny that it’s breathtaking.

It reminds you of your childhood, the countless vacations you’d spent here with your family, always in autumn, always in time to watch the leaves change before the first snows of winter set in. Fond memories of running through the trees chasing after cute little bunnies, giggling even when you tripped up and scraped your knees. There was something mystical about the forest back then, something special. But it’s been years since you’ve been here last, and the first time you’ve ever come alone.

And yet it feels different somehow, colder despite the nostalgia. You’re no longer a child, looking at the world through innocent, wondrous eyes. The forest is just a forest.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot; disappearing off the grid was one thing. Disappearing off the grid without anybody knowing where you were going was another entirely. They’d been surprisingly supportive of the plan – until you told them where it was you were planning on running off to.

‘Why go back to the mountain, honey?’ your mother had asked, her smile wavering and an odd tightness in her eyes. ‘Why not go to the coast instead? Or spend some time in the city?’

But this isn’t a fun little vacation. You don’t want to be distracted by beaches and crowds, you need space to finish your book and time to work through your mess of an emotional state without any interruptions. You want to be untraceable, at least for a week or two.

God knows the last thing you need right now is your ex tracking you down to try and apologise again.

Part of you had thought – somewhat naively, perhaps – that by coming back you’d spark… something. Your memories of the mountains are full of warmth and happiness, but as you stare out into the wilderness, all you feel is a cool chill that runs down your spine and the goosebumps that prickle at your skin.

Setting your now empty mug down, you pull tighter at the thick knit cardigan draped over your shoulders. Enough reminiscing, your manuscript awaits.

—

The mountain’s too quiet. You don’t notice it so much during the day, the sound of music softly pouring from your laptop and the gentle clacking of keys as you type enough to distract you from the eerie stillness outside the cabin. Even at night, you’re preoccupied with dinner, and then curled up on the couch with a warm throw rug watching reruns of your favourite shows on Netflix.

It’s only when you lie down, burrowed into the blankets to try and sleep that you notice just how silent the forest at your doorstep truly is. At first you think it’s simply being away from the hustle and bustle of home. There’s no cars driving past, or the sound of neighbours floating through your open windows, there’s not even the distant hooting of owls or dogs barking.

But it’s more than just quiet. There’s nothing. Even the trees seem to still once the sun falls beneath the horizon. And it shouldn't bother you, shouldn’t unsettle you, and yet…

The first few nights, you don’t sleep well. Tossing and turning in bed. When you do sleep, your dreams are plagued with unpleasant things. Not nightmares as such, but an uneasiness that bleeds into otherwise pleasant thoughts. On the fourth night you wake, gasping for air. Whatever dream you’d been in the grips of fades like smoke, and as you draw in another shuddering breath your throat itches and burns.

Water. You need water.

You don’t switch on the lights as you fumble your way down to the kitchen, trying to preserve what little remnants of sleep are still in your system. Even with the moon almost full and the night sky clear, the canopy shrouds it.

And it’s in that darkness, as your eyes flicker up from the faucet, that you see it for the first time.

A shape, huge and looming, silk shadow against black.

For a moment, as your heart hammers against your ribs, a chill creeping down your spine, you don’t dare trust your eyes. Maybe you’re asleep still, dreaming, or your mind’s playing tricks on you, because there’s nothing that should be lurking in the woods outside of your window that size.

Two golden, cat-like eyes peer back at you.

They’re still there when you race to flick on the lights, unblinking, curious as you skitter backwards, hand over your racing heart.

You’re tired, emotionally drained and this–

This is nothing more than a figment of an overactive imagination, a child creating monsters from the shadows in their bedroom. Yet even as you run back to the safety of the bedroom, yank the curtains shut and huddle under the meagre warmth your blankets afford you, squeezing your eyes shut, you feel it out there still, watching.

And in the stillness of the mountains outside, you swear you hear footsteps.

—

You wake to fresh snow, too early in the year, even at these altitudes. It dusts the ground, covering the mossy paths in glittering white, clings to the branches of the trees – the red leaves looking like droplets of blood scattered across a grey sky. The snow will undoubtedly melt as the sun rises, turn to slush and mix with the dirt, but for now it’s a thing of beauty.

For a moment, you allow yourself to forget how tired you are, how unsettled, venturing out from the cabin with wide, excitable eyes. It never used to snow when you were here as a kid, and while you get the occasional snowfall back home, it’s nothing like–

You stop dead in your tracks.

There’s two human footprints imprinted on the snow – only two – right outside your bedroom window, crisp and clean, as if they’d been left just moments before.

—

Your mother sounds worried when you call her. Of course, you don’t tell her about the lone footprints at your window, or the creepy pair of eyes you’d seen through the dark, you know how that sounds. You’re not crazy, and even if some part of you truly believed what you’d seen, your mom is the last person you’d admit it to.

Once upon a time, when you were little, she’d indulged in stories of fairies and spirits, but that was a long time ago. Now she turns up her nose and sneers at the myths and legends that your grandma still spouts, dismissing them with a scoff.

It’s not the kind of thing well-adjusted adults talk about in polite conversation.

She’s a good woman, but you can’t tell her this.

And you’re not even sure you’re entirely sold on it either. The eyes could have been from a wild animal – big cats might be rare in Japan, but they do exist here. You were half asleep (half terrified) when you had seen them, you don’t want to make a fuss over nothing. The footprints are less easy to explain away. If there’d been tracks leading away, you could convince yourself that it was a lost hiker and nothing more.

But there weren’t any tracks leading away; just the two footprints. And what kind of hiker doesn’t wear shoes in weather like this? It’s possible that this is some kind of prank, a mean spirited trick designed to unsettle you – a job well done, by the way – but you can’t quite bring yourself to believe that either.

In any case, you’re hardly going to admit over the phone that you’re freaking out over some footprints in the snow. God knows she’s already worried enough about your mental state, has been ever since the breakup, and you’re not going to give her any more ammunition.

But perhaps there is something to that maternal instinct, because despite your best efforts to reassure her that you’re doing just fine, that your novel’s going great and you’re so glad you came out here, she still sounds entirely unconvinced.

“Honey, you know you can tell me if something’s wrong,” she tells you, her voice strangely hesitant. “You don’t sound yourself, are you sure everything’s okay?”

You don’t know why you called her at all. You always have been a shitty liar, and she’s always been able to see right through you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Honestly the fresh air’s doing me good,” you tell her. “It’s weirdly quiet here though, I’m not used to it,” you laugh, and even to your ears it sounds hollow and fake.

There’s a heavy pause on the other end of the line, and if you close your eyes you can almost picture it, your mom leaning against the kitchen counter, teeth worrying into her bottom lip–

“I just don’t like you out there all by yourself.”

Relax, what’s the worst that could happen?

The words almost, almost slip out, an instinctive reaction to a mother’s well meaning but overbearing concern. But it feels like tempting fate, and whether or not you’re fully convinced that there is something strange happening, you’re not that bold. Instead you begin to tell her (again) that everything’s fine when she suddenly speaks again.

“Bad things happen in those mountains. Just… just promise me you’ll be safe.”

Abruptly, the line goes dead.

Pulling the phone from your ear, you glance down at the illuminated screen, only to frown when you see the little ‘SOS Only’ flashing in the top corner. Huh, you’d had a few bars when you’d started the call, but…

The weather’s gotta be messing with your signal. Stranger things have happened, right?

Shaking your head you resolve to give her a call tomorrow. And yet, even as you try to put her parting words from your mind and throw yourself back into your writing, you can’t help but feel that familiar sense of cloying unease seeping through your skin once more.

What the hell had she meant, ‘bad things happen in those mountains’?

—

A good night’s sleep can do you wonders.

Well, theoretically speaking. You can’t remember the last actual decent sleep you’d had, but regardless, the point stands. All you need is an uninterrupted eight or nine hours, and this… paranoia will go away. Things’ll be clearer in the morning, so long as you sleep.

The mantra doesn’t help you any, of course.

You don’t need to peer through the window to feel those watchful eyes staring. And maybe it would be easier to ignore the prickling sensation at the nape of your neck if it weren’t for the noises.

Music isn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of the mournful wails, like a wounded animal crying out in pain. It’s incessant, inescapable, reverberating inside of your eardrums until it’s all you can focus on.

It’s instinctual, you think, the urge to creep from your bed and try to find the creature making that sound and help it. But even as your feet touch the cool floorboards, your gut clenches, hackles rising. Something deep inside of you warns you from leaving the safety of the cabin.

Whatever creature is making those noises, it’s not calling for help.

You don’t feel like you’ve slept at all, but you must have because at a certain point in the morning you blink your eyes awake, exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin.

And this time it’s not snow that greets you, but the mangled remains of a doe ripped apart on your porch. Deep, jagged gouge marks run along its flank, organs spilling from the cuts and there’s little left of its neck, the whole thing torn out with teeth. Yet for the gruesome injuries, the only blood you find is congealed, pooled beneath the poor creature.

Whatever happened to it, it didn’t happen here. The knowledge doesn’t soothe you like it should – the park ranger you spoke to on the phone mentioned that while it’s rare, sometimes bears venture a little too close to buildings, though he sounds doubtful even as he says it.

He sounds even less interested when you tell him this doesn’t look like a bear attack, but promises they’ll send someone down in the next few days to check everything out. In the meantime, he suggests, it’s best to stay indoors.

Yeah, not gonna be an issue.

And so with no feasible way of moving it, you’re left with the butchered corpse of a doe just outside your front door. And the thing that bothers you isn’t so much the body, though you still can’t look at it without wanting to throw up, but the fact that it was just… left there.

Not eaten. No, aside from the missing throat, the deer’s all there. Ripped apart with its guts spilling out, but otherwise untouched. Growing up you had a cat, the sweetest little thing, but every once in a while she would get out of a night, find some poor little creature to torment and without fail, she’d bring it back home, leaving it half dead on the doorstep like a gift.

‘See what a good hunter I am?’ she seemed to say, smugly sauntering back inside.

It wasn’t about food. It wasn’t hunger that drove her, but instinct. As you stare out the window at the doe, at the milky white emptiness of dead eyes, you wonder whether that’s the same here. There’s no tracks in the dirt, no blood smeared across the ground – it wasn’t dragged here. No animal could’ve done this.

A gift?

Or perhaps something less benevolent. A threat. You’ve crossed into territory you don’t belong and the deer, cruelly ripped apart and left to bleed out on your doorstep is a line in the sand.

Either way, as tears fill your eyes, a sob tugging free from your chest, you realise that it was a mistake to come here. You don’t know whether you trust your eyes and your ears anymore, but there is something deep inside of you that tolls like a warning bell and as much as you’d like to bury your head in the sand and pretend there’s nothing wrong here, you can’t.

Bad things happen in those mountains.

You need to leave.

The next ferry to the mainland doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning, but it’ll have to do. Once you stop shaking and calm down enough to carry a conversation, you call the local cab company to arrange a pick-up first thing.

You can survive one more night, you just need to throw yourself back into your writing… if you can only just ignore that sense of foreboding prickling at the back of your neck.

—

There’s a boy running through the trees, giggling as he glances back at you. His hand’s outstretched, wrapped ‘round yours tugging you along as he laughs at you to hurry up.

It’s late, the sun dipping below the horizon, but you don’t wanna go back just yet.

You’re having fun, playing in the forest. And the light is golden, filtering in through the pretty red leaves, your sides burn a little from all the chasing and laughter but it’s a good kind of ache. You don’t want today to end.

His name is Kohsuke, you remember, and he lives down in the village by the valley. He’s only one year older than you, and you’d follow him anywhere.

You think you might be a little in love with him.

‘C’mon, hurry up! It’s only a little further!’ he calls, and you nod, scrambling over the fallen trunk of an oak tree. There’s old spirits who live in this forest, he’d told you, and today you’re finally gonna see one.

It’s dark now. Cold too. You’re tired and hungry and you kinda want to go home, but Kohsuke won’t let you. ‘Just a little longer! Don’t you wanna see them?’

You do. Of course you do. It’s just that you’re starting to get a funny feeling in your stomach… Can he hear the footsteps too? Is somebody following you?

There’s a voice in your ear, a soft, silky purr that makes a shiver roll down your spine, but you can’t make sense of the words, they’re not in any language you understand. You don’t tell Kohsuke – he can’t hear it, otherwise he would have said something. You just clutch his hand tighter, skipping closer.

‘W-we should go back, Koh,’ you murmur, wincing when it comes out in a childish whine. ‘We’re gonna get in trouble.’

You aren’t supposed to stay out playing after dark, he knows it as well as you do. ‘You trust me, don’t you? Stop being such a chicken!’ he snickers as your cheeks heat.

The voice at your ear growls, low and threatening. You need to go back, now.

You blink, and the scene changes.

You’re curled up on the forest floor, hands covering your eyes. Somebody’s screaming – Kohsuke – crying out your name through ragged sobs, pleading–

There’s a crunch, a ripping sound, a wetness sprayed across your cheek.

Kohsuke’s not screaming anymore.

Something warm and heavy touches your head, drags through the locks of your hair and you just huddle tighter, eyes squeezed shut, shaking like a leaf as more tears spill. You don’t wanna die here.

The crunching sounds continue, and you keep your eyes tightly shut. It can’t hurt you if you don’t look.

It can’t hurt you if you don’t look.

It can’t–

A loud knocking jerks you back to consciousness, your body jolting upright, almost swiping your laptop off the table as you try and gather your bearings. Right, you’d been working on your novel, sitting up at the kitchen table, you must have dozed off… A quick glance out the window tells you that you must have been out of it for a while – the late afternoon shadows are starting to creep in, the sky a golden orange.

What the hell was that dream?!

“Hello? Uh, anybody home?” a masculine voice calls, another loud knock sounding. “We got a call about a wild animal attacking deer…”

Oh, you think, trying to shake yourself out of your stupor, the wildlife people, yeah. You feel a little nauseous, feverish and trembling, though maybe that’s just the result of your erratic heartbeat.

Swallowing down the bile in your throat, you turn your attention to the door. Truly you hadn’t actually expected that they’d send anybody out to investigate, much less that they’d arrive before you left, but you can hardly turn him away now.

Especially not when there’s a freshly butchered deer corpse lying only a few feet away from your front door. Quickly, you run a hand over your hair, taking a moment to try and collect yourself before you answer.

It doesn’t work – there’s a knot in your throat and for every step you take towards the door it feels like your legs are gonna give out from under you. You move in a daze to unlock the door, only just remembering to school your features into an expression slightly less alarming as it swings open.

A ranger, tall with a shock of black, messy hair that reminds you oddly of a rooster greets you with an easy grin. “Oh good, I was starting to think nobody was home. You the one that called?”

Distantly, you nod, fingers clutching at the edge of the doorframe. The ranger glances over at the remains of the deer, still lying in a pool of half dried blood, studying it for a moment, hazel eyes sweeping over the deep gashes in its side. You can’t bear to follow his gaze, you’re not sure you can look at that thing again without throwing up.

He whistles lowly, shaking his head, “Well you don’t see that every day,” he laughs.

Your eyes snap to his, narrowing slightly. It’s not his fault, you know that, but you can’t help the flicker of irritation that sparks at the cavalier attitude. This is just his job, you get it, but you don’t exactly feel like laughing right now.

“You still think a bear did this?” you retort, the words coming out a little sharper than intended.

But the ranger takes it in stride, shrugging as his smirk widens. “A bear, huh?” Amusement glitters in his eyes, sharp and mocking. “Why don’t I come inside and you can tell me all about it?” he offers, stepping closer towards you.

And there’s no reason for your heart to skitter, your blood running cold as he looms over you in the doorway, still wearing that stupid, irritating smirk. There’s no reason for your insides to clench either, or for the tiny, jerky step backwards you take, your body moving of its own accord.

The ranger pauses, head tilting to the side as he stares at you.

Really stares, like he’s waiting for something. And as discomfited as you are (and as much of an asshole as this guy is), a weary apology is halfway to your tongue when he shifts slightly, propping an arm up against the door – the last, dying rays of light catching his face.

It’s just for a second.

A heartbeat.

But long enough for you to watch those hazel eyes shift to gold, pupils elongating into slits.

You stumble backwards, breath coming in a short, ragged gasp as your eyes widen into saucers. “What are you?”

The ranger before you chuckles and you catch a glimpse of his teeth; pearly white and glinting, sharper than they had been only moments ago. “Why don’t you let me in and find out for yourself, kitten?”

You shake your head, retreating further into the cabin, heart pounding.

“No? You don’t like this body, is that it?” he asks, a cruel edge to his smirk as he takes a half step backwards and slowly spreads his arms. “Something more familiar, then.”

And you don’t think there’s any room left in your heart for more fear, your stomach already twisting in sickening knots, but you blink and standing right there in front of you is Kohsuke.

It’s a punch in the guts, a knife slipped between your ribs, yanked ruthlessly through your still beating heart. He’s beaming up at you, those same adorable dimples, the same ridiculous bowl cut, bleeding youthful innocence. “How about now?” he asks, holding out his hand and wriggling his fingers like he expects you to take it. “You’ll let me inside now, right?”

A strangled noise escapes you as you fall to your knees. Tears fill your eyes, blurring your vision – you blink them away but more take their place.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asks, and you wail in response.

It’s too much. You shake your head, hugging yourself tightly, as if your arms are the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely.

He calls your name – not in Kohsuke’s childish lilt, but that deep, ancient purr that makes the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “Let me in.”

“Go away,” you gasp through tears. “Please– please go away.”

The creature shifts again, the dark haired ranger back in Kohsuke’s place. He eyes you, those unnatural gold irises watching with utter enthralment as you sob pathetically on the floor, still pleading – though you know it’ll do you no good – for him to leave.

“Last chance, kitten. Let me in, or I’ll make you come out.”

He – it – doesn’t sound nearly as put out by the prospect as it should be.

And you don’t know why giving permission matters, all you know, all you care about, is that it’s keeping that thing at bay for now. It can’t come inside and so long as you don’t leave the safety of the cabin, it can’t hurt you. The words are nothing but an empty threat.

Right?

You shake your head, defiant even as your voice hitches and trembles, “No.”

“Stubborn little thing,” the creature croons, the smirk on its face widening until the visage no longer resembles anything human – mouth splitting its face in two, rows of long, sharp teeth revealed. “So be it.”

A low growl resonates in its chest, and you can only watch, petrified, as thin, vein-like black marks begin to appear over pale skin, growing thicker, cracking as shadow curls from underneath. The creature itself starts to grow too, limbs elongating as muscles ripple and swell, claws bursting forth in place of fingernails, shoulders broadening – until it’s towering over you, wreathed in thick shadow, grinning with that terrifying mouth.

This is the thing you’d glimpsed that first night. A creature ripped from nightmares and primal fears, strong enough to tear you apart with a single hand. That’s what it’d done to Kohsuke, to the doe, what it’d do to you if you gave it half a chance.

“You wanna play, kitten?” it asks, head tilting to the side.

Slowly, it backs away from the door, keeping its gaze fixed firmly on you. For a moment, you think that it’s going to disappear back into the forest, or plant itself by your window to watch for another night, waiting you out till dawn, but instead it stops by the old oak that overhangs the porch and stills entirely, simply… waiting.

“Let’s play.”

Abruptly, the oak beside it bursts into flames. It takes only a heartbeat for the entire thing to be engulfed, red and orange flames licking along the trunk, the gnarled, spindly branches, even the leaves are alight, burning away into ash and floating off in the breeze. The heat from one tree alone is searing, the crackle of burning wood and your own horrified, shuddering breath the only sounds in the night.

It snowed only a few nights before, but the fire spreads with unnatural ease, flames racing across the canopy, embers lighting up the undergrowth, and in the space of a few seconds there’s an inferno raging through the forest before you. And through the smoke and the red, burning haze, the creature watches, smirking.

The heat from the wildfire sears painfully at your skin, the air around you suddenly thick with smoke, stinging your eyes, choking your lungs, and yet you can’t seem to tear yourself away. It’s like a dream, a nightmare, some kind of… hellscape.

And for a moment you forget that there was a purpose to this, too lost staring in mute horror as the forest you’d played in as a child burns–

At least until a single leaf from the oak tree, edges curling as it’s consumed by flames, falls, carried by the breeze and lands on the wooden railing of the porch. With a soft whoosh, the old wooden beam catches fire, and with your chest heaving, panicked breaths falling from parted lips, you rise to your feet as flames spread, the fire eating everything in its path until the entire porch is alight, burning.

Run.

You don’t know if the voice in your head is yours or not, you don’t have time to care. You scramble for the back door, throwing it open, and you run.

Run until your lungs burn, til’ your bare feet are scratched and bleeding, run, pushed forward by the sweltering heat at your back, the chilling crackle of laughter that follows. You run through tears, through pain and air so thick with smoke that it hurts to breathe.

And you know the creature’s giving chase, you know that you won’t – can’t – outrun it, nor the inferno that blazes around you. You know that it’s futile, that you’re probably running to your death, but that’s human, isn’t it?

To run when you’re scared?

The sky’s awash with a hazy red glow when it catches you, throwing you to the ground, and still you try to crawl. Desperate, choking on broken pleas and sobs, nails raking through the dirt as you try to pull yourself forward.

And when your pants are ripped from your legs, a puff of warm air ghosting over the nape of your neck as you’re shoved back down, those long, black arms settling either side of you, caging you in – you know that you’ve lost.

“Mine,” the creature growls, and you barely have time to scream before its cock shoves into you with one brutal, merciless thrust. “Mine.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kuroo tetsurou #yandere kuroo tetsurou x reader #monster fic #horror fic #tw noncon #tw: noncon #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: minor character death #tw: animal death #i am sorry #except not really tho

622 notes · View notes

piecksz · 4 years ago

Text

starstruck | (m)

pairings: rockstar!eren yeager x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, penetrative sex, fingering, creampie, roughness, drug use, explicit language

words: 4.4k+

summary: you and your friend decide to sneak backstage at your band’s favorite concert and the vip treatment you recieve is more than you bargained for.

inspired by

a/n: you know the drill :p obey (with YUNGBLUD) by bring me the horizon it’s literally not a sexy song so don’t go in listening to it expectin to get horny LMAOO it’s just the kind of sound i imagined eren’s band to have, but it was sexy to me bc the image of rockstar eren tormented me the entire time i wrote this

“I can’t believe I agreed to this. This is fucking crazy.” Your friend’s voice was a fidgety whisper behind you. Her face’s close proximity to the back of your neck had her heavy expiration fanning over your nape every time she opened her mouth to reprimand herself for allowing you to beguile her into illegal trespassing.

“You’re fucking crazy,” she whispered again, tugging the leather sleeve of your jacket with a pesky grip.

You shrugged her touch off of your arm and took a brief glimpse over your shoulder to offer her a sour look. “Can you be quiet? You freaking out is making us look suspicious.” You whisked your head back around, peering around the corner of the vacant merch tent.

“No, us creeping around to sneak onto a fucking tour bus is making us look suspicious,” she retorted.

The corner of your mouth tightened at your friend’s concern and you lifted your hand to give her a dismissive wave. You were astounded when she had originally agreed to your brazen proposal, although it took minutes of incessant pleading for her to actually give in. Her veiled reluctance surfaced the minute you two had separated from the concert’s crowd at the end of the show and snuck around the stage to the back of the venue. What began as her unease and quiet suggestions that maybe your idea wasn’t so smart, intensified into irritating nagging. You gave her the option to turn around and wait for you back at the car, but as your companion, she sighed and remarked that something so stupid couldn’t be done alone.

“I see it,” you said eagerly and with a proud grin. The vehicle was stationed a decent distance from where the two of you had been standing, but you measured the stretch with your eyes and figured that if you walked quickly enough, you’d be able to make it on without being caught.

“How do we even know they’re on it?” Your friend craned her head past yours to get a better view of what you saw.

“We don’t. I’m just guessing.”

“Oh great, that’s exactly the answer I wanted.” She released a tense and quiet laugh before retreating back behind the screen of the tent.

You surveyed the security guards as they patrolled back and forth along the premises, waiting until the coast was clear. Once you noticed an opening, you forcefully grabbed your friend’s wrist, ignoring her silent grunt of protest, and pulled her along. She stumbled into your stride and peered over at you, doing her best to follow your quick feet while mirroring your nonchalant guise.

Closer and closer, the two of you neared the tour bus until it had to have been only yards away. You tried to remain composed through your excitement, making sure you didn’t break your character. No fucking way your plan had actually gone off without a hitch, it almost seemed too easy.

“Hey!”

You kept walking. Maybe the exclamation wasn’t for you, but once the holler was thrown again, your body went rigid, and the tempo of your steps slowed until you stopped in your tracks. The adrenaline that commanded your legs had been substituted for lead and it kept your feet pinned to the ground. You couldn’t even run.

“Hey, you two aren’t supposed to be back here.”

You blinked once, long and hard, before pivoting on your heel. You watched, mortified, as a burly security guard started in your direction and got closer until he loomed over you both with a threatening advantage in height.

He looked even angrier now that you could see the way his thick eyebrows creased together and created a ripple of lines above them that disappeared into a bald head. His hefty arms were crossed against his chest while he glowered down at you two, waiting to hear a story. You could tell your excuse wouldn’t matter though, it was obvious he wasn’t in the mood for jocular conversation.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, we were looking for the bathroom,” you explained, clasping your hands together and feigning an apologetic smile. You turned your head from side to side, looking around innocently to sell your lie, and then looked back up at the guard with a nervous laugh. “And I guess it’s not here.”

Your friend shook her head and said nothing, but you were certain she was drawing up a creative speech in her head, wondering how she would tell you that she “told you so” this time.

“Nice try.” The guard curled his lip angrily. “Come on.” He reached out a thick hand and wrapped it around your bicep while grabbing the back of your friend’s shirt with a crude yank. Your eyes went wide at his hostile grip and you jerked your arm, trying to free yourself of his hold.

“Hey, whoa!” His grip only tightened. “We can walk ourselves!”

The guard forced you two forward, prompting you to walk so he could escort you off the grounds.

“What’s going on?”

You looked up and your writhing ceased. Instead, heat flushed your cheeks and you stood dazed. It didn’t take long before you recognized the owner of the voice because, naturally, you would have been able to recognize him from a mile away, but luckily you didn’t have to. He was right in front of you.

It was Eren, the lead singer and guitarist of the band you had been screaming your heart out to not even an hour ago. He was your favorite member, meaning you’d watched countless interviews and had several pictures of him saved on your phone, but nothing could have prepared you for what he looked like up close. His long brown hair looked like it was still damp with sweat, a sign of his showmanship on stage, and it framed his face in careless wisps and fell loosely past his shoulders. His torso was unclad, showing the dark inkings that adorned his biceps and stretched all the way up his shoulders until they met at the detailed design of wings in the middle of his chest. Dark ripped jeans sat loosely, just below his hips, and teased a peek at deep v-lines that ran underneath the top of his waistband.

You fought off the urge to drop to your knees and pray for how sinfully hot he looked.

Trailing behind him were his bandmates, Armin and Jean, the band’s other guitarists, and Connie, the band’s drummer. You had never seen such an attractive circle of friends where you would have been satisfied taking any of them, and although you avowed to your friend that Connie was hers since she favored him, you absolutely would’ve allowed him to do whatever he wanted to you.

“Caught these two trying to sneak onto the tour bus.” The security guard thrusted you two ahead with an unsatisfied huff, and you shot him a glare.

Eren’s attention dropped from the security guard’s face and drifted over to your friend first before settling on you, eyes sweeping over your face and falling at half-mast. He arched an eyebrow then averted his gaze from your chest.

“It’s cool, let them go.”

“Are you sure?” The security guard’s grip on you loosened, and you pulled out of his hold the minute you felt him unhand you.

Eren shrugged. “Yeah. They can hang.” He quickly dismissed the security guard and casually sauntered past you before disappearing onto their bus.

You glanced over at your friend who looked like she was still in the process of trying to grasp the situation evolving in front of her.

“What kind of assholes turn away fans?” Jean teased, giving you a warm smile before he lifted his half-empty water bottle to his lips.

Connie switched his drum sticks to one hand and slipped them behind his back into his pocket. “You guys are fans, right? You’re not trying to steal a couple of used water bottles to sell online are you?”

You took a lengthy pause and waited for your friend to answer, giving her an opportunity to converse with him, but she said nothing. She just rocked back and forth on her feet, staring at the ground timidly to avoid looking Connie in the eye.

“No,” you answered for her. “I mean yes, we’re fans. Big fans. No to trying to sell your DNA.”

Your response earned a chuckle from Armin and a hearty laugh from Connie while he nodded in approval. “Alright.” He tilted his head in the direction of the bus as though encouraging you two on.

You watched as the rest of the members filed inside, and then your friend seized your hand frantically.

“Holy shit. Y/N, holy shit!” She squealed, and you snorted at her sudden ability to talk once again. “You saw him right? You saw him.” It didn’t take much detail for you to gather that she was gushing about Connie.

“Did you even see him? Your head was down the whole time, you didn’t say a single word to him.”

Your friend’s animated face slackened into a placid expression. “I didn’t trust myself. If I opened my mouth I would have asked him to put me in a headlock.” She exhaled. “Jesus Christ, those arms.” Your goading smile stretched into an amused grin, and you shook your head at your friend’s hysterical behavior.

The inside of the tour bus was much larger than you would have deduced from its seemingly modest exterior. Its floors were dark and polished wood that matched the ceiling, both surfaces lined with subdued yellow light. Aside from the sizable kitchen to your right, large leather couches sat on either side of the lounge area, and stretching to the bus’ rear were dimly lit bunk beds that were half-obscured by a dark curtain.

“Holy shit, this is a house on wheels,” your friend breathed, mouth agape.

“Well we’re on the road most of the time, so it might as well be,” Armin answered, throwing himself into one of the sofas with a labored sigh. He threw his head back in exhaustion and brought his arms up to rest against the top of the couch. “We never caught your names by the way.”

Both you and your friend introduced yourselves, forgoing a proper introduction from the band’s members. You evidently already knew who they were.

Armin smiled. “Nice to meet you guys.”

Jean shuffled through, handing you and your friend a water bottle, which you accepted with much appreciation. You hadn’t taken heed of how thirsty you’d been, and you hadn’t had anything to drink since the concert had started. Even while you swooned in the crowd between sweaty bodies, dehydration threatening to ruin your fun, you’d refused to pay $4 for a beverage.

“Make yourselves at home.” He threw another bottle to Armin.

“Oh no, we’re not planning on staying that long.” Your friend laughed, clutching onto her drink so tightly that the plastic squeaked in her grip.

You nudged her in the ribs with an assertive elbow and said her name quietly through clenched teeth, barely audible enough for the two of you to hear. She looked at you with uncertainty, and you gave her a forced grin.

“Don’t be rude. They said we should make ourselves at home.” You obliged to Jean’s invite, taking a seat in one of the leather cushions.

The situation you were in was a rare opportunity, the type of opportunity you’d only heard from other people, the type of opportunity you’d read fanfiction about in your early adolescence. If anyone told you that you’d be living such an opportunity, you weren’t sure if you’d really believe them, but had you declined to appease your friend’s irrational concern, you knew you’d regret it for years.

“Did you guys enjoy the show?” Connie leaned against the wall of the bus and wedged a rolled stick of paper between his pursed lips. He brought a hand-held lighter to the end of the stick, sparking it a few times with his thumb before a small flame engulfed the thin paper and thick smoke billowed from its tip. It only took a moment before the pungent, herbal stench of marijuana invaded the inside of the tour bus.

“Of course, you guys are amazing.” You nodded, perching yourself up in your seat and clapping your hands together excitedly. “We’ve been trying to see you guys in concert for a long time now.”

Eren fell into the seat beside you, and your body tensed up almost instantly. You’d managed to feign calmness from your first encounter because it had been easy to masquerade your nervousness from a distance, but now that he was even closer, surely he could have heard your heart palpitating against your ribcage. Its beating grew even quicker once Eren sat back and slid his arm behind you to lay it atop the backrest.

“Yeah?” His voice was languid. “What’s your favorite song?”

“That’s a hard question,” you chuckled, suddenly becoming very interested in the sleeves of your jacket. “I seriously don’t know if I can pick just one.” It hadn’t been a hard question at all, but you simply couldn’t think through the smell of his faded cologne and the feeling of his naked chest up against the side of your arm.

“That’s cool,” Eren smiled, but responded plainly. “You smoke?”

Your eyes drifted up to see Eren offering you a partially-burnt joint in between two fingers. He inhaled deeply from his hit and exhaled, a thick white cloud rolling past his lips.

You hadn’t smoked before, and you weren’t an avid consumer of weed. One edible at a party had you manic until your friends had to calm you down in a separate room and reassure you that you weren’t dying, but you still accepted it hesitantly. You brought it to your lips and took a deep draw before erupting into a fit of coughs.

“Easy,” Eren laughed, and his warm hand rubbed the nape of your neck soothingly. He took the joint from your hands and held it towards Armin.

Your chest and throat heaved with the searing sensation of a foreign substance, and your body racked with an incessant wheeze until it was sure it had expelled all of the stuff. Eren beside you thought it was the funniest thing.

“So you guys in college?” Connie asked, this time directing his question to your friend since you clearly couldn’t respond.

She nodded quickly, still avoiding making eye contact with him. He must have noticed and thought it was endearing because the corner of his mouth quirked upward into a knowing smirk.

“Sick,” Eren remarked. “I dropped out of college, but you guys should stay in school, seriously.”

“Don’t worry I have no plans to drop out and become a musician,” you rasped once your coughing subsided.

He paused for a moment and then looked at you. “What about a boyfriend?” His eyes drank you in from bottom to top until he met your clueless stare.

“Do I have a boyfriend?” You blinked, and then the tip of your ears went up in an uncomfortable heat that spread over the side of your face until your skin was aflame with realization. “No.”

“That’s good.” Eren studied you from behind heavy lids and he lingered on your lips, his own spreading into a suggestive grin. “So it’s cool if I do this?”

He leaned in and affixed his lips at the curve of where your jaw met your ear. His mouth was hot and the kiss was wet against your feverish skin. He planted another one lower, against the hollow dip where your neck curved, and then he bent the arm resting behind your head, using his hand to turn your face toward him so that when he tilted himself forward again, he could kiss you without interference. His lips were soft and slow as they commanded your mouth to follow his rhythm, and you withheld a desperate and excited whimper once Eren slipped a seductive tongue past your teeth.

He relaxed another hand on your leg, rubbing slow circles into the top of your thigh while edging closer and closer to the top of your waistband. Once his leisure fingers skimmed over your pants’ button, he skillfully undid the first hole before moving on to your zipper. You made a small sound of protest and pulled back in embarrassment.

“In front of your bandmates?” you questioned in a breathy whisper.

Eren shrugged, looking unfazed. “They don’t care. Nothing they haven’t seen before.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. He was a goddamn celebrity for crying out loud, had you really thought you were the first girl he brought onto the bus to fuck? And he’d done it in front of his bandmates? You shifted uncomfortably, looking to Armin, Jean, and Connie who were now occupied with showing your friend pictures they’d been sent from professional photographers after past shows.

“I don’t know,” you admitted timidly.

Eren rolled his head to the side, visibly bothered by your response. He glanced over to his bandmates and swept through his locks with a lazy hand. “Hey, why don’t you guys go show her the stage set before they pack up?”

Your friend looked away from the laptop they were gathered around and over her shoulder. “But—.”

Eren’s fingers trailed up and down the side of your neck, clearly eager to resume your previous matters. Were you really about to pass up this chance?

You gave your friend a reassuring thumbs up alongside Eren’s suggestion. “I’ll come find you later.”

It almost seemed like Eren sent his bandmates an unspoken cue, because Connie quickly chimed in before your friend had another turn to object. “Yeah. It’s okay, we’ll take care of you.” He wrapped a tattooed arm around your friend’s shoulder and gave her a friendly shake.

You could almost see the rise and fall of her chest cease, and you actually grew worried for her. It looked like she had nearly died and came back to life, but her stunned face melted into a flustered smile and she laughed sheepishly. “Okay.”

Connie nodded and gave Eren a two finger salute before escorting your friend off the bus with Jean and Armin following closely behind.

Once the door to the bus closed Eren shifted his attention back to you.

“There. Problem solved.” His green eyes had darkened and clouded over with desire again. “You feel better?”

“I guess,” you murmured.

You didn’t get a second chance to speak because Eren’s lips coupled to yours once more, and his hands continued against your zipper before he slipped his fingers into your underwear. He brought two fingers to your slit, skimming lightly over the delicate skin before sliding his middle finger between your folds to part them.

You released a sharp gasp against Eren’s mouth as you felt the cold metal of his rings against your cunt, but he made no efforts to pull away. The earthy taste of marijuana on his tongue caused your head to swim and you began to feel the drug’s intoxicant effects yourself. Your limbs grew heavier as you lay slack against Eren’s body while the sensation of his soft strokes against your tender clit had you whimpering against his lips.

He dipped his finger down to your body’s orifice, sliding it into your hole to glaze the digit with your arousal.

“God, you’re so tight.” Eren’s voice was deep as he pulled away from your mouth and both of you looked down to watch the way he worked you. “I want you around my cock.”

Your hips jerked involuntarily against his hand with the mention of his desire, and he brought his touch back up to your clit, using your essence as lubrication. The bus was quiet except for the symphony of Eren’s husky pants and your lewd whines as he slowly quickened the pace when he felt your body begin to tremble against his.

“Fuck, Eren—,” you mewled. You hadn’t even given thought to how unusual his name sounded coming out of your mouth. Eren, the singer and lead guitarist of your favorite band had his fingers inside of your pants, and here you were moaning his name. “Oh fuck—.”

Your orgasm intensified quickly after its onset, you hadn’t even realized you were climaxing until your body was convulsing and your fingers were digging into Eren’s biceps.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Eren—,” you cried.

“That’s it,” Eren cooed. “Atta girl.”

His fingers continued working against your clit until you wrapped a sweaty hand around his wrist, a silent plea for him to stop before he sent you into overstimulation.

He hummed in amusement and heeded your request before pulling his hands out of your underwear. Now he worked his hands against his own belt, unfastening the buckle before pushing his jeans down with his briefs in one swift and eager motion. His cock was half-hard and continued growing rigid after he took himself in his hand and began pumping his throbbing length.

You watched in wonderment as his palm worked painfully slow against his thick shaft, and pearls of precum gathered at his tip before dribbling down his swollen head. Your own dirty fantasies where you’d tried to envision how big Eren was hardly did him justice.

You rose to your feet, kicking off your shoes with haste, and stepped out of your pants. You shrugged off your jacket as well, realizing how uncomfortably sticky your sweaty arms felt against the leather material.

“Come here,” Eren hummed, and released his cock. He held his hands out for you to take, and he pulled you onto his lap. He supported your waist until your knees were mounted on either side of his thighs, and you pulled your underwear to the side, allowing his pulsating tip to prod your entrance.

“You gonna show me how well you ride?” he asked, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

You nodded, resting your hands on his shoulders and undulating your wet folds against his cock. You released a desperate whimper every time he nudged your clit.

“Yeah? Show me.”

Eren watched as you slipped him in, and what started as a whine deepened into an obscene cry while you felt him stretch your walls out. You eased down until you sat at the base of his cock and he’d filled you to the hilt.

You dug your teeth into your lower lip, waiting to adjust to his girth before you slowly started moving up and down. Eren’s shallow breathing encouraged you while you lifted yourself up and then back down, each time releasing an agonizing sob.

“Good girl.” Eren’s large hands traveled up from your waist and rested on your chest. “Just like that.” He loosely cupped his hands over your clothed chest, adoring the way your quickening pace caused your breasts began to jounce underneath your shirt, but your ache to feel his touch everywhere along your skin became uncontrollable.

Your fingers curled around the hem of your top and you quickly slipped the material off, tossing it onto the couch beside you. You did the same with your bra, too impatient to fumble around with the pesky hooks.

Eren grinned lazily, before resting his palms against your breasts and giving them a small jiggle. He leaned forward, lolling his tongue out, and flicked its tip against the hardening bead of your nipple. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and smiled at the way you murmured his name before rolling his thumb over the wet skin.

“So fucking hot,” Eren praised. He gave your other breast a brisk slap, watching it shake with the impact, and then he took you in his mouth. He sucked hungrily before taking your nipple between his teeth and tugged on it.

You continued bouncing on Eren’s cock before he released a guttural groan and threw his head back. “Fuck, don’t stop.” The tattoos along his sweaty chest expanded with each uneven breath. “I’m gonna cum.”

Eren’s hands traveled down to your ass, and black-painted nails dug into your skin while he directed you up and down. You rolled your hips against him until you felt his cock jerk inside you, and then he was filling you up.

Eren unloaded himself into you and your walls fluttered around his quivering length. His balls spasmed, making sure he’d jettisoned every drop of thick, white cum. He pulled his cock out before your knees gave way and you collapsed next to him. Your pussy clenched around nothing, still adjusting to Eren’s absence, and you felt his release leak out of your hole.

You heaved, eyes strung tightly, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You had to have been dreaming. You kept your eyes closed, fearing that you’d wake, but they fluttered open instinctively when you felt Eren’s weight lift from beside you.

“Where are you going?” You watched as he tugged his pants up and fastened his buckle before shuffling around the bus looking for something. Jesus Christ, just how much stamina did this guy have?

“Your friend’s probably wondering what’s taking you so long,” Eren replied, disappearing behind the curtain leading to the bedroom in the back of the bus.

Your hand flew to your forehead and you sat up, feeling guilty that you had completely forgotten your friend. Knowing her, she was probably worrying herself sick wondering what Eren had possibly done to you. You started retrieving your clothes and getting dressed, but you paused momentarily, calling out to wherever Eren had been on the bus.

“I should give you my number.” You stuck a leg into your pants. “You know, just to keep in touch.” You stuck your other leg in and hopped around, pulling your pants up.

Eren reappeared from behind the curtain, tugging on a fitted black t-shirt. “Don’t worry about that.”

You popped your head out from under your shirt and reached for your jacket. You laughed lightly and gave him a confused look.

“Safety and shit. We can’t give our personal information out to just anyone.” He gave you a pitiful smile, but you could tell it was more for you than for him.

“Oh,” you responded quietly.

Eren seemed unconcerned with the guidelines he was given, as though he didn’t care much about whether he even remembered your name once they were on the road again.

“Don’t look so sad babe. You’re lucky.” He tilted his head toward you and raised his eyebrows. “Not everyone gets to fuck a rockstar.”

#eren smut #eren yeager smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #eren yeager x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot au #eren yaeger smut #attack on titan au #eren yeager au

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licieoic · 4 years ago

Photo

“The Seventh Prince” - Digital Oil Painting

Inspired by Suptober, theme: Switch it up! I’m a major fairy tale nerd, so I decided to go for a “Wild Swans” AU where Castiel is the seventh prince, the one stuck with a swan’s wing for an arm, and Dean is his personal knight/protector. Have a drabble under the cut, because I’m obsessed...

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!

Dean applauded along with the rest of the wedding guests as the young queen kissed the king. Now that she was finally able to speak, it had seemed only right to have a second wedding, one where she could do more than nod. He still didn’t fully understand the particulars of why she’d needed to keep silent for seven years as she’d worked to undo a spell set upon her seven brothers, but he figured he didn’t really need to know. Magic didn’t come with handy explanations, magic just was.

Movement to his left drew his attention away from the happy couple and he saw his charge, Prince Castiel, rising to leave the garden where the wedding had taken place. Bound to protect him, Dean followed as he always did.

“I’m not going far, you don’t have to come with me,” said the prince, his rough voice a bit softer than usual.

“Actually, I do,” said Dean, before adding with respect, “your highness.”

“Suit yourself, Sir Winchester.”

“Will you ever call me Dean?” It was a question he asked often. “I hear ‘Sir Winchester’ and I think you’re talking about my father.”

“Perhaps someday.” It was the answer the prince always gave, though he seemed more preoccupied that day.

Dean hadn’t been Castiel’s knight protector for very long, but he thought he knew what had him so upset. Eying the red shawl that was perpetually wrapped around the prince’s left arm from daybreak when Dean would join him to sundown when he would leave for bed, Castiel only possessed one good arm, which left him unable to join in the happy applause for his sister.

The knight stayed only steps behind Castiel as they mounted a tall hill overlooking the nearby forest. They would often end up going on walks in this manner. Whenever his mood would darken, Castiel would always withdraw from his family rather than burden them with his melancholy. But Dean saw it all. The troubled expressions, the heavy sighs, the longing looks toward the horizon. Normally, he wouldn’t say anything, it wasn’t his place, but his heart had gone out to the prince. He seemed so lonely, so isolated. If he had to endure punishment for overstepping his boundaries, so be it.

“Do you, uh…” He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at the prince. “Is there anything you’d… like to, you know, talk about?”

Castiel flashed his vibrantly blue eyes at Dean and the knight tried to appear nonchalant, desperately hoping his face wasn’t turning red. It was painfully obvious that feelings and talking about them were not his forte, but he didn’t retract his offer. At first, Dean thought the prince might refuse or else ignore him entirely, but then he sighed.

“I was just thinking,” he said, looking back the way they’d come toward the wedding where the guests were beginning to move inside for the party. “This might be the last time all eight of us are together for a long while. Lucifer left pretty much as soon as the spell was broken, that was no surprise, but then Michael followed him soon after. Now Gabriel has been talking about leaving and seeing the world too. I have no doubt that the rest of my brothers will go at some point. And that leaves me. Here. Going nowhere.”

“You’ll always have the queen,” Dean pointed out.

“And I love her dearly,” said Castiel. “But she has her own family now, with two children who are terrified of me. Not that I can blame them.”

“Where would you go?”

Castiel shook his head. “I have no idea. But the desire is always there. The need to… just be free.” He lifted his head, casting his gaze over the tops of the trees where green met endless blue above. “I miss the sky.”

Dean blinked. “The sky?” Then the penny dropped. “You can’t fly.”

“Not anymore.”

Taking a step closer, Dean tentatively asked, “W-what’s it like?”

A small rare smile ghosted across Castiel’s lips and it was like a bit of sunshine peeking through the clouds. “Exhilarating. It was the only time I didn’t feel trapped in my own body. Swooping through the clouds, gliding on the wind like I was weightless, landing on water and floating like a ship, completely effortlessly.”

Dean’s heart was pounding just at the thought. “Sounds terrifying to me.”

Castiel chuckled and it felt like winning something. “I suppose it would.”

“Why couldn’t you go somewhere if you wanted to, like your brothers did? Just—not the sky.”

“And spread more rumors about the monster? I couldn’t.” He must have caught Dean’s expression because he added, “I know what’s said about me. It’s why I keep my distance from my family as much as possible. I don’t want them to be feared and whispered about as well.”

They were silent for a while. Castiel closed his eyes, lifting his face to the breeze. Dean kept his gaze on the prince, watching his dark hair play in the wind. He leaned his weight on one leg, his left hand going automatically to rest on the hilt of the dagger he always kept at his side. He could only imagine what Castiel was thinking, feeling so alone, essentially going from one cage to another, living in a body that was only mostly his.

“You’ll always have me,” he said, suddenly.

Castiel’s head snapped in his direction, his eyes wide, but then he scoffed. “That’s a nice thought—”

“I mean it,” Dean interrupted. “I want to stay. With you. I’ll always be by your side.”

The moment hung between them, heavy with things unsaid, though it was still far more than Dean had ever intended to say. He almost wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole, but then the prince would be alone and he’d just promised him he wouldn’t leave.

Slowly, but with far more dexterity than Dean would normally expect from someone with only one working hand, Castiel untied the knot of the sling wrapped around his left arm, then unwound the fabric and pulled it free.

All of Dean’s breath left him in a whoosh as the prince stretched out his wing, the feathers bright white in the afternoon sun, like the wing of an angel. It was so massive, even though they stood a few steps apart, Dean could swear he felt the tips brush his cheek as the wing extended past his head. It was softer than anything and left the knight with the crazy urge to bury his hands in it.

“Now do you understand?” Castiel asked. “Why I can never let anyone get too close?”

“It’s… beautiful,” blurted Dean, the first thought in his head tumbling out of his mouth like an idiot.

“Beautiful,” the prince repeated, his eyes dark as he lifted his face to look at the wing. “Sooner or later you would see it as I do. A curse. And you would ask to be assigned a new duty. One where you could forget about me.”

“I won’t,” said Dean, speaking quickly when Castiel opened his mouth to argue, “let me prove it to you.”

That seemed to bring the prince up short, making him pause in the act of folding his wing back down by his side. “How?”

“Let me stay with you.”

The wing settled, rippling elegantly. “For how long?”

Dean shrugged. “Well… as long as it takes.”

Castiel looked at him for a long moment and Dean wondered what he saw. Blue against green, like the sky meeting the forest.

“I’ll give you a year,” he said, at last. “If you remain by my side that long, I’ll believe you.”

“Only one year?” said Dean, giving him a teasing half-smile. “Why not seven?”

“I don’t think I’d be able to wait that long to claim you.”

It was Dean’s turn to be brought up short. “What?”

“And once mine, I won’t be able to let you go. Remember that.”

“Why? W-what would happen if I left then?” Was this more magic?

“It would kill me.” Castiel tilted his head in that maddening way he had. “Don’t you know?”

Dean shook his head. The prince closed the distance between them, reaching up with his right hand to touch Dean’s face. His thumb slid across the apple of his cheek as his fingers traced around the outside of his ear. Shivering, Dean resisted the urge to close his eyes.

“Swans mate for life… Dean.”

The knight’s stomach clenched involuntarily, hearing the prince use his given name for the first time. Swallowing thickly, he asked, “That a promise?”

Castiel’s deep blue eyes were stormy as he answered, “A warning.”

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secretobsessionstuff · 3 years ago

Note

Been thinking about Mateo and Shawn lately !! They remind me of myself and my own partner, so I figured maybe i’d... request something based on one of my own experiences. Long story short, I had been with them all day but I was feeling really dizzy and nauseous. I was thinking about my partners gentle way of comforting me, by holding my forehead while i was getting sick or gently running their fingertips on my back. Perhaps you could do something like this with mateo and shawn? Maybe shawn is really out of it and mateo is worried he might bother shawn if he touches him too aggressively (?) i guess? I love their dynamic <33

Thank you all for being patient as I slowly get to requests. This was a super cute one 💕

It was nearing the evening when Shawn started to get tired. As the sun began to set, with golden hour in full swing, he too wanted to dip below the horizon to sleep. He and Mateo had been out all day doing errands and planned to get dinner at a new restaurant, but now Shawn just wanted to go home.

The fatigue and dizziness hit suddenly. It was the nausea that grew steadily stronger as the sun continued to leave for the day. He lazily moved through the store, holding onto the clothing racks to keep himself upright. People must have thought he was drunk with the way he swayed down the aisles.

He eventually found his boyfriend in one of the aisles trying on shoes. Shawn sighed as he found a place to sit next to a pile of shoes that Mateo was considering buying. It was only when he sat down that he realized how weird he felt. He realized that he could have passed out right there if he wanted to. Suddenly his lunch wasn’t sitting so well in his stomach. He looked up at Mateo with half-closed eyes.

“What do you think of these?” Mateo asked as he admired the leather shoes in the mirror.

“You look good in everything,” Shawn said through a yawn, not really looking at the shoes. Still, it wasn’t a lie. Mateo could walk out of here with slippers, and Shawn would be eager to see them kicked off haphazardly at the foot of his bed. Just not today. “Are you almost done? I want to go home soon.”

Mateo spun around, feeling fancy in the new shoes. He wasn’t going to buy them though because he needed more time to decide, and it didn’t look like Shawn had more time – he looked like he was going to fall asleep in the middle of the store. “You don’t want to get dinner at that new Thai place?”

Shawn scrunched up his nose. “My stomach isn’t feeling so good.” The blurriness around his vision wanted to creep closer in, and his head wanted to fall off his shoulder. “Actually, a lot of me isn’t feeling so good.”

After switching the shoes out for his actual pair, Mateo sat on the bench and looked into his boyfriend’s eyes which were bloodshot and glassy. He touched the back of his hand to Shawn’s forehead and pulled back in surprise. “It does feel like you a small fever.”

Shawn groaned and let his head fall on Mateo’s shoulder. “My eyes are burning and I’m dizzy. Will you drive?”

Mateo helped his boyfriend up. “Sure. Anything else bothering you?” It was tough not to fall back into the script that he used for patients, but Shawn didn’t seem to care.

“My stomach.”

“You already said that.”

“Well, it really hurts,” he whined, only half joking because his stomach really was in knots. “Add short term memory loss to the list.”

Getting in the car did not sound like a fun time, but Shawn did so anyway. The ride wasn’t as bad as he thought because he fell asleep before Mateo left the parking lot.

Mateo enjoyed the quiet drive back. Shawn’s car drove smoothly and silently, letting his boyfriend stay asleep the whole time. That might have been a testament to how Shawn was feeling rather than the car’s performance, however. Mateo snuck glances at Shawn’s paler than normal face. The tattoo on his neck stood out even more against the ashen skin.

“We’re here,” Mateo said as he parked the car. Shawn stayed asleep. “Babe, wake up.”

The snoring continued so Mateo got out of the car and came around to the passenger side. He unbuckled Shawn’s seat belt and felt the heat rolling off his body. “Oh boy, you’re really warm,” Mateo mumbled to himself, but it seemed to have startled Shawn from his sleep.

Shawn looked around and squinted. The first thing he registered was the fresh new wave of nausea coursing through his veins. With Mateo’s help, they walked to the door. Shawn’s legs really wanted to buckle under him. “Fuck, that nap did not help. I feel so much worse.”

“Yeah, your fever’s gotten worse too,” Mateo said as he opened the door for his boyfriend. “How’s your stomach?”

“Sick. I think I might puke.”

“You could wait for me in the bathroom while I put our groceries away.” Mateo set their bags down on the counter. “I want to take your temp—or you can crash on the couch. That works too,” he said as he watched Shawn fall onto the soft cushions.

With the thermometer and a bucket, Mateo joined Shawn on the couch. He wasn’t asleep, surprisingly. The grimace on his face told Mateo that he was too nauseous to sleep. His body took up most the couch so Mateo gently lifted Shawn’s head and placed it on his own lap.

Shawn moaned as he was jostled around. When he was settled back down on Mateo’s legs, he let out a heavy exhale. Even while lying down, the room felt like it was spinning around his head.

“Sorry, hon,” Mateo said softly. “Will you put this under your tongue?”

While Shawn held the thermometer in his mouth, Mateo ran his hands through his boyfriend’s hair. He hated hearing Shawn’s heavy breathing which served as a reminder that he was miserable. Mateo decided he would keep gliding his fingers through Shawn’s hair until his breathing slowed down or until the thermometer beeped. Whichever came first.

The thermometer beeped first. The device told him that Shawn’s temperature was sitting just below 102°F. It wasn’t terrible but not great. Still, Mateo never liked to treat anything under 103°F. This was the body’s way of curing itself. Of course, Shawn’s body had other plans to deal with whatever was making him sick, but that was a more unpleasant process.

Shawn groaned and squirmed around on Mateo’s lap. He wanted to stay where he was because Mateo’s fingers felt great, but the nausea was reaching its peak. His belly gurgled loudly, making him curl in on himself.

Mateo heard the gurgled and felt his boyfriend tense up beneath his hand. “Are you gonna be sick? Need the bucket?”

With a hand over his mouth, Shawn nodded quickly. He lifted himself up with his arm, careful not to elbow Mateo in the crotch. He reached for the bucket, but his beautiful boyfriend held it up to his mouth so that he didn’t have to. Shawn still grabbed one side, just to help him aim and to keep him from falling off the couch.

He gagged emptily at first, making his whole body shudder. The nausea filled his mouth with saliva and caused his jaw to quiver. Another gag caught in his throat.

“I’ve got you, just let it happen,” Mateo said while holding the bucket steady. He could feel the strain that it had on Shawn’s body just from the way he shook.

Shawn gagged one last time before a real wave of sick came rushing up his throat. He lurched forward from the force of the heave. With his eyes squeezed shut and tears gathering on his lashes, he heard the splatter of sick as it hit the bottom of the bucket.

A mix between a cough and a heavy exhale followed a wet burp. Shawn’s chest moved rapidly as he tried to catch his breath in between retches. “Ugh everything hurts, Teo.”

Mateo’s go-to choice of comfort in this instance would be to rub Shawn’s back or stomach but he hesitated when he heard the pain in the boy’s voice. Shawn’s body was already tense and flooded with misery; he didn’t know if his boyfriend wanted to be touch that much. In the past there had been times when Shawn was too overwhelmed for any extra stimuli. Sometimes he couldn’t stand having his shirt rub against his skin when he was sick.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Mateo said gently, with his free hand hovering awkwardly in the air. “Will it help if I rub your back?”

Shawn swallowed thickly, aware that a second bout was coming. “Maybe. Can you do it lightly…you know, like the tracing.”

Mateo knew exactly what he was talking about. Sometimes when neither of them could sleep, they took turns tracing shapes on each other’s back with their fingertips. It started out as a game to guess the pictures, but it quickly turned into random patterns that left goosebumps on their arms.

With the lightest touch, Mateo started at the top of Shawn’s spine and slowly worked his way down. Then he circled back up to the base of his neck, taking his time to make each touch gentle.

When he felt the muscles in Shawn’s back tense up, he quickly lifted his hand in fear that he hurt him. Shawn just belched up another gush into the bucket. Without a second to breathe, he was bringing up the next wave of stomach contents. Shawn gasped for air and went right back into it with a groan.

“Shh, shh, it’ll be over soon,” Mateo whispered as resumed his gentle tracing.

For a long time, Mateo kept up the gentle movement of his hands, even when the vomiting seemed to have tapered off into plain old hellish nausea. It’s the worst feeling of still being nauseous when the puking stops, but that’s the land where Shawn found himself after wiping the bile from his lips.

Physically exhausted, Shawn slumped back down on Mateo’s lap. His throat was raw and his abdomen screamed from the work. Every breath hurt. But the one thing that made it easier to deal with was the pitter patter of soft fingertips on his back. It reminded him of peaceful rain during an afternoon nap.

“That feels nice,” he sighed and closed his eyes.

Mateo smiled. He kept his voice low because he could see that Shawn’s breathing was slowing down. “Do you feel better?”

“A little.” Shawn yawned. “I could actually fall asleep.”

“Then fall asleep. I won’t stop.”

Mateo was pleased that he didn’t hear a response. He was pleased to hear Shawn’s breathing even out. As promised, he danced his fingertips across his boyfriend’s back, at least until he too fell asleep.

#emeto #emetophilia #emeto fic #sickfic #stomach flu #stomach bug #fever fic #fever #my ocs #Shawn #Mateo #fluff #fluffy #comfort #vomiting #puking

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mari-beau · 3 years ago

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GIVE ME A REASON: PART SIX - A Rogue One Fanfiction

This is a shorter installment, and maybe pointless… maybe I’m dragging this out too long… But also, who cares, I’m doing this for fun. I just love playing with them!

Read on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Six

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some coarse language. References to wounds. And… Cuddling?

Words: 1,720

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The Death Star had come for them.

Again.

But Jyn couldn’t bring herself to care. It did seem a little strange to have been spared the last time only to probably be destroyed this time, barely a week later. But either way, it was the end to her life she now knew to be her fate, or whatever. It just felt right. It just was. Not the Death Star specifically, but,

Jyn Erso would die in Cassian Andor’s arms.

Whether it should’ve been on Scarif. Or it was here on Yavin 4. Or the next day. Or thousands of days in the future.

And there was a sort of peace in knowing that. One that allowed her to climb into his bed, slide her arms around him, and bury her face in his shoulder. He stirred and her heart skipped a beat. It was easier when he was unconscious, to consider how she felt about him, how she’d been attracted to men before, even had something akin to a relationship with one or two, but it had never felt like this.

“Jyn…?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re on the base on Yavin 4. Safe. In your quarters.” It was easier to preempt any confusion or alarm Cassian experienced when he woke from his heavy, partially drugged, mostly just exhausted from his body’s healing, sleep.

“How long?” he asked, then realized there were static-laden voices broadcasting over the basewide intercom. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve been asleep for 12 hours,” Jyn said, moving closer and partially on top of him to prevent him from trying to get up in a rush and falling flat on his face. Also, she was admittedly afraid on some level, afraid to be alone and facing death. When he was near her, when they were physically entwined in some way, she felt like everything would be okay. Even if she died, if it was in Cassian’s arms, then everything would be okay. Irrational, yes. But that didn’t make it any less her truth.

“The Death Star is here,” she said, once she could tell he was awake enough to understand, not muddled by pain meds. “The Alliance is scrambling their forces to engage. They’re leaving the comms open, since you know…”

“We’re all dead if they fail.”

His arms wrapped around her and engulfed her in his warm embrace. Cassian Andor, a man who, she didn’t think she was wrong to guess, hadn’t received much at all in the way of affection in his life, somehow was so good at holding a person he made the pain of the universe go away, made the entire universe fade away except for his hands on her body, gentle and undemanding but also firm and reassuring, his breath hot on her neck, sending shivers down her spine, and his body beneath hers, so strong despite his injuries.

“Are you okay?” she asked, remembering the physical state of him.

“Mmm… Yes.” His hands tightened their grip on her side and shoulder, reflexively, a gentle squeeze as he murmured into her neck. “Feels good.”

He probably meant he felt fine, but oh, yes, it did feel good. Or maybe he was still quite medicated?

“My weight isn’t putting pressure on your injuries?” Jyn asked. “Maybe I should…”

“No.” Somehow he managed to pull her further into him, her breasts flattening against his chest, her hip practically fusing to his, her breath hitching momentarily and then joining the rhythm of his own breaths...in and out… in and out… in and out...

Cassian sighed, made a frustrated, growling sound.

“I need to use the ‘fresher,” he said, loosening his grip on her.

Jyn rolled off from him, swung her legs around to sit on the side of the cot and waited to see if Cassian could manage to stand. He slid to sit on the edge of the bed next to her and took a moment. She didn’t press him, though an instinct inside of her wanted to offer assistance, wanted to take care of him, wanted to ease the pain and struggle his recovery was.

He stood, again pausing for a moment, then walked slowly across the small room to his private refresher facilities. Apparently, it was one of very few benefits to his officer’s rank, for the small quarters were nothing more than a glorified closet. But she supposed it spared him from having to sleep in a large barracks with a bunch of others, not that it would’ve deterred Jyn in the least from crawling into his bed.

Part of her felt like she shouldn’t watch his laborious movements, out of respect, but she couldn’t look away. What if he needed her?

Force, what if he didn’t need her? Not like she needed him? Aw, fuck. She needed him.

She watched the muscles in his naked back twitch, stiff from inactivity and injury. But her eyes were inevitably drawn to the perfectly uniform lines of small circular marks running down his spine. She knew there was a matching sort of trail along his ribs. Injections of some sort of bacta cocktail meant to speed the fusing of the fractures in his vertebrae and ribs, injections straight into the bone. How painful would that have been if he’d been conscious, she couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t help but want to wrap her smaller body around as much of Cassian as she could, run her hands gently over his scars, old and new, make sure his wounds were healing and his bruises fading, hear him sigh contentedly against her skin, hold him forever.

As he disappeared into the ‘fresher, Jyn realized she was hopeless.

Cassian Andor had taught her about hope. And had made her absolutely hopeless at the same time.

But why fret about it? What did it matter?

Jyn was used to dealing with life moment by moment, day by day. And she might not have many more moments, anyway.

The loud, static-laden voices crackling over the basewide intercom announced the launch of yet another squadron of fighters, then abruptly switched over to some ship’s communication officer announcing visual confirmation of the target. The Death Star.

Looming on the horizon like a moon, a harbinger of death, bringer of eternal night. Cold, austere, which made it somehow more terrifying, somehow worse than staring down an angry brute about to put a knife in you. It was just so inevitable, indomitable. Made her feel so small, insignificant, so alone.

“Do you mind if I turn this off?”

Jyn startled. How had she not noticed Cassian reappear in the small room? He pointed at the comm, which was broadcasting the prelims of a battle to determine all their fates.

She didn’t want to listen to it either.

“Please do,” she said, already feeling less… alone.

She watched Cassian lean over to switch the speaker off, wincing in sympathy with him as he straightened again, taking a deep breath that expanded his chest and shifted the muscles beneath his skin, mesmerizing her more than a little. His mostly naked body preoccupied far too many of her thoughts.

But what else had she been supposed to do? She’d woken up drenched in sweat that first night in his quarters, had to strip out of the heavy infirmary clothes, found Cassian tossing in his sleep, nearly feverish, removed the sweltering clothes from his body, as well. Little did she know, how enthralling she’d find his lean muscles, the shape of his body, the feel of his bare skin, his-

His hands cupped her face and Jyn looked up at Cassian Andor, his kriffing gorgeous dark eyes fixed on her. His fingers swept some stray hair from her forehead, tucked it behind her ear, returned to swipe gently over the nearly-healed scar above her eyebrow, in her hairline.

“Are you okay?” A knot formed in her throat. Cassian was a good man, despite every questionable thing he’d done and tortured himself over. Of course he would care about her wellbeing. It didn’t mean-

“Ow!”

“Your blaster wound still hurts?” His fingers feathered over her shoulder, not touching the freshly healed injury this time.

“It does when you jab your finger in it.” She grabbed his wrist and tugged his hand away, throwing him off balance so that he fell into her and she managed to catch him and ease him onto the bed, right where she wanted him.

A chuckle escaped him and he smiled, making something flutter inside of her. And then he was reaching for her, pulling her close.

His embrace was everything she’d never known she’d wanted. His hands stroked her back and he buried his face in her neck, nuzzling a sensitive spot just behind and below her ear.

She sighed, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying the fingers of her other hand in his messy, soft hair. She pressed gently as she massaged his scalp down to his nape, eliciting a hum of pleasure from him that vibrated against her bare skin and into her flesh.

If this was to be her last moment, Jyn held no regrets. It was a good moment.

“Jyn?” His voice had a lethargic but happy edge to it, thick and low and sleepy. She could sympathize.

“Yes?” She twisted her finger in a lock of hair curling about his neck.

“Please don’t let me sleep so long this time.” His whisper tickled her ear. “No more than 10 hours. Okay? Please?”

He wanted her to wake him up in 10 hours… Like there wasn’t a battle raging in space nearby… Like he didn’t believe they were quite probably going to die soon, incinerated by a weapon her own father helped design. Like he didn’t believe they were going to lose, after all. Somehow, he believed they would be there, together, ten hours from this moment.

Hope.

Such a man as Cassian… The most unexpected thing she’d discovered about him was his belief in hope. That he possessed any at all after all he had done, all he had seen. And then he’d given it to her.

And again, it warmed her, deep inside, that small seed of hope. She snuggled closer to the man, hoping for something she couldn’t even begin to conceive of. But yearned for it, with every fiber of her being.

#fic: Give Me A Reason #Rogue One #fanfiction #rebelcaptain #my fic #Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso #Cassian x Jyn

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mystic-oneshots · 4 years ago

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Video Games ( Jumin x MC) (Juminweek - Day 3)

I know at the time of this post Jumin week is officially over but I haven’t been able to post in time as I haven’t been very well. I also had ides for what to write and changed them half way through! However, Here’s day 3! I got heavily inspired by Animal Crossing as that's what I've been playing when I’m not playing Jumin’s route on repeat! I can imagine Something like this happening so I had to write it. I hope you enjoy!

(Video games vs soap operas)

My head rests against the soft feather pillow as I adjust the linen bed sheets around my body. I snuggle in wiggling my toes and ankles around the covers to get warm. It doesn't take long to get comfortable.

A warm glow faintly lights the room from the lamps positioned on either side of the bed. The door to the on-suite bathroom is left open ajar, letting the light from that room sneak out into the dimly lit bedroom where I lay. My husband's phone occasionally brightens up as either a message or an email gives him an alert, although he isn't able to see them right now. The last spot of light comes from what is sat in my hands.

Each night since receiving the gift from my husband, I have been spending some time playing on my 'Nintendo Switch'. Specifically to play 'Animal Crossing: New Horizons'. I am often off before my husband comes and joins me in bed, so we can spend some time in each others arms before drifting off to sleep. Tonight however, I have been informed that I would be having a meteor shower in the game, and I don't want to miss it!

Jumin emerges from the bathroom. He tugs gently at the collar of his pyjamas as he walks towards his side of the bed. His eyes don't leave me despite mine being glued to the small screen of the console. The sheets are lifted and his body soon comes to join me under the duvet. His eyes still don't leave my presence.

"Can I ask a question?" Jumin says, bringing his body in closer to mine and placing his arm underneath my head. The heat of his body gives me a sense of stimulation, however, it's not quite enough to bring me out of my trace the game has caught me in.

"Uh-huh" I respond, not taking my eyes off the screen as I move my thumbs around the control buttons. I can feel him frowning in response to me not looking at him.

"Can you explain what makes this game so special to you?" He curiously asks. His eyes drift away from me and onto my screen as I move my character round the environment. Seeing him take an interest in something that is way beyond his expertise is an entertaining yet welcome thought. It was at this point I divert my attention to him instead. I crack a smile at him and I place the console down on my lap. I wonder why he'd ask that?

"Are you interested in it?" I tease. Jumin's eyes lift to meet mine. His ash black locks fall effortlessly in front of his eyes. His expression is warm and gentle but I can see curiosity sparking in his smile with a faint smirk.

"One could say so. I just want to know why you're so invested in it! It seems like it's all you're doing in you're spare time now." His free hand tucks a loose wisp of hair behind my ear and his thumb delicately rubs across my cheek. Through his touch he I could feel that he's somewhat disappointed. It breaks me a little. I didn't realise I was that invested and it was secretly affecting him.

"Have I been spending too much time on it? I'm sorry! Ugh, why didn't I realise that-"

"Don't be ridiculous, princess!" He laughs. "I must admit, I wish to have some more attention, but then again, I can see how happy it makes you so that is enough to satisfy me. I want you to show me what you're playing so I can understand why you love it so much!"

Hearing him say that makes my heart flutter. He's genuinely curious. That's adorable!

My head turns to fully face him. A joyful sigh escapes my lips before I pull my body in closer to his. I rest my head on his shoulder and his head falls to lay on top on mine. His free arm wraps around my waist as I bring the Switch up to my face again. I tilt the console enough so Jumin has a clear view of the screen in between my hands. It's so nice to be able to share this with him!

"Will I need to explain everything to you?" I question him.

"No, I've seen advertisements for this game before so I get the base idea of the concept. If I have any questions I'll ask." he responds. I hum back in content.

I show my husband my island that I have spent hours on to make perfect. The first place I decide to take him to is the airport to show of the creativity of my island entrance. Cliffs littered with flowers, small knickknacks, and the odd waterfall stand before my character.

He remains quiet as I tour him around the cliffs and pathways, pointing out my villagers homes and the areas I've decorated to resemble different community places. I know his silence is a good thing. He's not bored nor not paying attention. When he's like this, I can tell he's invested. It was something I had to learn to get used to, however, that's how he's always been apparently.

"Was that a cat?" He quickly exclaims. He sounds excited! I let out a light-hearted laugh as I make my character retrace her steps. Indeed it was a cat. Someone who I spent a lot of time and dedication to find. A cat named Raymond.

"It took me weeks to finally find him! He's one of, if not, the most popular villagers in the game but that's not why I wanted him..." I tell Jumin. My voice trails off and I feel his grip around me tighten.

"Why did you want him?" He softly asks. My cheeks flush red. I'm thankful that he can't see my face properly right now for I'd be rather embarrassed if he did. I hesitate to answer at first, trying to laugh it off and hoping he wouldn't notice my awkwardness.

Truth is, I wanted him because he reminded me so much of Jumin. For a start, he's a cat! He wears a little suit and talks in a sophisticated way which is very typical of Jumin too. I doesn't help that his house is designed to look like an office either! It was like Jumin was in mind when they made him!

"It's a silly reason really..." I mumble under my laughter. It's not really silly but it's just a bit cringe worthy.

"It's because he reminds you of me isn't it?" He speculated. My cheeks only flush more. How on earth is he so good at figuring me out? It's like he can read my mind!

I move my head from his shoulder and turn my body to face him. His eyes are drawn to the peachy hue of my cheeks which trigger a chain reaction in his own. Seeing him become flustered makes me feel less embarrassed. It also makes my reasoning feel less child-like and more meaningful.

"I think that might be enough for tonight." Jumin's arm reaches for the console in my hands and carefully plucks it from my hands. He places it on the bedside table before bringing his hand back around my body. He pulls me in closer for a tender cuddle, holding my head against the warmth of his chest.

"What do you think of my island?" I gingerly ask. His fingers run through my scalp relaxing me as my eyes start to slowly become heavy.

"It's very creative, darling. You certainly have an eye for detail, although I already knew that and wouldn't expect anything less from you." A tone of flattery runs through his voice. "Seeing what you've done has now made me consider about getting one myself! I'm sure there's a way we can connect on it to play together right?"

"What really?" I jolt my head up to look at his face. A huge smile bares his lips as he nods and hums in reassurance. I giggle as I settle down again against his chest.

This happy feeling is exactly what we need to sleep well tonight.

#jumin x mc #juminxmc #juminweek #juminweek2020 #jumin #jumin han #mystic messenger jumin #mystic messenger #mysme #cheritz

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atths--twice · 4 years ago

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Oh!! I got my days mixed up and... well, I thought I had a different story to post, one that was a multi-chapter one. I think I might post it later along with this one, so keep a “weather eye on the horizon.” (Yeah, I just tossed in a POTC quote)

For now, here is a story I wrote for a very sweet and supportive commenter for her birthday. Hope you enjoy.

A Ninja in the Night

Life with a newborn is tough, but some nights come in like an adorable ninja, and the toughness and worry make it all worth it.

6/15

January 2019

Mulder woke with a start and sat up. His heart was racing and his ears were ringing, anticipating the crying he thought he had heard. Glancing at the bassinet, he listened, but heard nothing.

Just a dream, he thought, as he laid back down and let out a breath. Scully was asleep beside him and the last thing he wanted was to wake her, especially over nothing. They were working on getting Faith on a sleep schedule and it was having its ups and downs.

Last night had been great, but the night before… he shook his head with a sigh. Scully had been nearly beside herself and he hated to see her that way.

Tonight, he had made a vow to himself to keep an ear out and be the one to get up with Faith, should she start to fuss. They had gone to bed almost two hours ago and he had already fallen asleep on his first watch.

But damn, it was hard to stay awake when that little girl seemed to have a schedule of her own, and trying to alter it was incredibly tough.

He turned his head and looked over at Scully, smiling at her open mouthed heavy sleeping. He wondered if she would even wake up right now if Faith did begin to cry. Sighing, he closed his eyes and attempted to simply rest and not fall asleep this time.

Then he heard it. A sound he knew had not been a dream after all.

Quietly and carefully leaving the bed, he walked over to the bassinet. Looking down he saw that Faith was awake, her big blue eyes looking around with the aid of the light from the small night light in the room.

When her eyes landed on him, she slowly smiled at him and he grinned, all thoughts of tiredness gone. Glancing back at Scully to be sure she was still sleeping, he gently picked Faith up and walked out of the bedroom.

“Little miss,” he whispered, stepping into her bedroom and closing the door, the extra night light they had added, removing the need to turn on another light. “What are you doing up? You are supposed to be sleeping. I know you’re not hungry yet.”

He sat down in the rocking chair and laid her on his lap, looking down at her in her expertly wrapped blanket. She smiled at him again and his heart melted. Lifting her to his shoulder, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

“Oh little girl, you have no idea the power you wield,” he whispered, one hand rubbing her back and the other on her bottom. He sighed as he rocked her, humming softly as the chair made a soft whishing sound.

“I feel as though I’ve told you a lot already, in your short couple of months, how much your existence means to us, but I’m sure that I will never stop telling you, so be prepared to hear it for the rest of your life.”

He fell silent, listening to her little grunts and sighs as he held her close and rocked her. Sighing contentedly, he thought of the future they would now have, the happiness she would bring to them and he smiled.

“When I was little,” he said softly, rubbing her back. “After your Auntie was gone, I was always lonely. My family life wasn’t ideal before that, but… I vowed to not have a family when I grew up, not wanting to screw it up.” He opened his eyes and let out a sigh, thinking of the past, and how it had been screwed up, despite his efforts to avoid it.

“I can’t think about that,” he whispered, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “I tried. We both did… My girl, this time it will be different. Not because we love you more, but because of the circumstances. It was out of our hands, especially your mama’s. There will be days, when you’re older, that you will see your mama looking at you with a look you will not be able to identify, and it might confuse you. I don’t want that for you. I want you to know the past, the good and the bad, because that’s what made your mama and I who we are.” He smiled, his fingers running gently over her dark silky hair. Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he kissed her softly.

“The good and the bad, Faith… that’s what makes life worth living. Without the bad, you can’t appreciate the good and without the good, the bad seems never ending. Balancing the two is difficult, let me tell you,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I’m sure I will tell you often, but it’s the truth. And the good in my life, for over twenty years, has been your mama. She is my balance, my light in the dark. And you… you have definitely added to the balance of good in my life.” He heard her yawn and he laughed with a shake of his head.

“I know. Your dad can really prattle on and I’m afraid that will be something that never changes. But, I’ll be quiet now. You need to get some sleep before your tummy wakes you up. Sleep, my love.”

He kissed her head again, breathing in her intoxicating smell. He rubbed her back softly, before he moved her to the crook of his arm, staring at her as she fell asleep, her yawns so big for someone so small. Smiling, he marveled at the perfect person they had miraculously created.

“I love you,” he whispered, putting his feet on the footstool as he closed his eyes. “So much.” Holding her closer, the rocking of the chair pulled them both to sleep.

______

“Mulder. Hey.”

He opened his eyes and saw Scully’s sleepy-eyed face in front of him. She smiled softly and then looked down at Faith.

“She woke up again? I didn’t even hear her,” she said quietly with a sigh.

“She was like a ninja tonight, that’s why you didn’t. Lying there wide awake, happy as could be,” he said with a yawn and she chuckled.

“She’s really got you figured out, Mulder,” she teased and he smiled with a shrug, knowing he could not disagree with her. He was already putty in her impossibly tiny hands.

“She looks so peaceful, I hate to wake her, but if I go much longer, I fear my breasts will explode,” Scully said, stroking a finger across Faith’s eyebrows.

“Well, none of us want that, so let’s switch places and I’ll get you whatever you need to avoid that horrible catastrophe,” he stated and she laughed softly.

He stood up with a groan, his back complaining at sleeping in a chair, even if it was only for a little while. Scully sat down and he handed Faith to her, leaving the room to get the nursing pillow.

Bringing it to her, he helped her to adjust it, and get as comfortable as possible. She opened her buttoned pajama top and pulled down her nursing bra, bringing Faith close to latch on and begin feeding. When she did, Scully sighed with relief.

“Explosion averted,” she breathed, and he chuckled softly, listening to Faith’s little sounds. He sat on the footstool and reached out to touch her small head, again marveling at the perfection of her.

“She wasn’t crying? I really didn’t hear anything,” she said and he shook his head.

“No. I had a dream and thought I heard her crying, but she wasn’t. I heard her make a noise and got up to check her before she could disturb you and she was staring up at me with those big beautiful eyes, wide awake. Then she smiled and…” He shrugged and she nodded with a grin.

“Yup, she’s got you figured out,” she whispered and he nodded with a smile, as she laughed quietly.

Closing her eyes, she began to rock the chair slowly, her fingers running lightly over Faith’s head. Shaking his head, he stared at them, happy beyond anything he ever could have imagined.

As Faith had the first of her nightly feedings, no words were spoken in the quiet of the night.

But then again, when love could be spoken silently, no words were needed.

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Post MSIV #Family Life: The Story Beyond the Series #Domestic Fluff #Happy #Family #Family Fluff #Love

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jjba-hell · 4 years ago

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Fate and Fortune

Ok so this one I just HAD to do and you’ll see why in my next chapter. Might switch over to a Part every two days since y’know- life but here ya go.

For the moots: @fyre23 and @risottoneroo (you’ll like the end I promise)

Part 12

When they ended up in Saudi Arabia, the first trip Vera had to take was to the clothing shop. Out of customary respect she had to switch to a considerably more conservative choice of clothes, slipping out of the shop to meet Polnareff outside. “It must be boiling underneath. Are you alright?”

“Oh you’d be surprised how cool this fabric is.” She gave a twirl of black fabric. “Also, this isn’t my first time here, Avdol and I...” she forgot she needed to be mourning him in front of Polnareff.

He placed a gentle hand in her shoulder, giving his best sympathetic smile. “I understand you had many adventures while you waited for him to be your confirmed guardian?”

She nodded, wringing the strap of her bag over her shoulder. In truth she did miss him terribly, but unlike Polnareff she knew he was still breathing. “It was more trying to understand ourselves and helping developing stand users. Unfortunately the true niche of his research he kept even from me.”

The hopped in the car- Vera sliding into the front seat while the others were speaking on their next steps on the journey. She figured they’d have to cross the desert sooner or later but she still dreaded the intense heat they’d have to travel through- even though, she supposed, she was best accustomed to the heat.

Or at least she hoped.

After guzzling enough water to last her well into the night and smothering her face in sunscreen she lead the camel to its knees with a handful of grass and hopped on. Vera admittedly had some experience doing this but she wasn’t going to teach the others how to do it- it was, after all, so entertaining to watch Mr Joestar struggle a bit. “I’m sorry- I though you had experience with camels, Mr Joestar.”

She tossed an apple in front of her camel and hopped off to help- moving to Polnareff first. “Honestly Polnareff, I’ve taken trips to Paris- surely you’re aware of the state of the town isn’t that cleanly as you make it out to be.”

Vera wrapped the grey scarf around his head and neck loosely, letting him lure his own camel down. Once he was up she moved to Kakyoin who was constantly looking over his shoulder. “Do you feel... watched, by any chance?”

“I’m not sure- I kind of feel like my intution’s been thrown off since Pakistan. Everything feels kind of off- like I’m just constantly....phasing?”

His hand slid up her covered arm, brows knitting in concern. “Jotaro told me the night terrors were rough last night. Are you sure you wouldn’t ride with one of us?”

She bit back to wide of a small, playing with the extra fabric of the shawl on his shoulders. With a playful snap she pulled him a bit closer, standing on her tiptoes as she kissed his cheek.

His cheeks dusted a lovely pink color and she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re sweet but I’m still prideful- much like you.” She gazed up at him through her fluttering lashes before moving back to the task at hand.

If they were really being watched then she was hoping she just placed a target on her back. How much Dio was letting his minions know was still debatable but if they believed her to be vulnerable then that was all she needed.

To drive the point home she came to Jotaro who had seemed to manage just fine on his own- strapping the water to his steed in silence while Mr Joestar was floundering about. “You also feel watched?”

He only nodded, turning to look her head on. “I think Star would have seen something by now, wouldn’t he?”

It seemed the same thought crossed Jotaro’s mind- his gaze moving to look out over the horizon- as if he’d see what it was that was watching them.

Moving with Jotaro was slow but she took the moment to hold out her hand to him which he took, softly entertwining their fingers together as she moved to block her from view of the rest. “Are you sure you can make it through? I know you didn’t get much sleep in.”

She squeezed his hand, laughing at how both the boys thought she was only coming to them for aid. “I think I can handle myself just fine, JoJo.”

It was her turn to make the move- she squeezed his hand gently then moved in for a casual hug before moving on ahead with the journey.

Vera had believed she was used to the heat, that the sweltering fire beating down on her was normal and it would be over soon but the sun didn’t move. When they stopped a moment and realized the time she knew something was very very wrong. “Eight? As in 20 hundred?”

She moved closer to Jotaro to check and the realization hit her hard. “It must be a stand.”

“Vera, can’t you make it return to its user?” Polnareff asked but she was already off her camel and heading towards the rock nearby.

“No. Stands define Fortune.” Her back hit the rock with a thud and with a heavy swallow she tried to gather her thoughts. “It has to be short ranged- the power that thing holds is vile. So where could the user be?”

She materialized Fortune from her and allowed them to start walking straight ahead of them. Kakyoin used Hierophant Green to spread out and look as well.

She had to pull back quickly after Kakyoin got injured by the barrage of flames raining down on the group. And that’s how you ended up in the a hole in the ground sweating through your eyeballs.

“Jotaro- do you ever get tired of using Star Platinum vigorously?” She wondered out loud, laying down on her back. “Or haven’t you quite tried.”

“The latter. I know- waiting this out isn’t going to work out, is it?”

She shook her head- putting her feet up on the bigger water canteen she’d phased into the cave. If only her head would work long enough to think straight she could have come up with a solution but she couldn’t even turn back the time on their bodies.

When Kakyoin finally broke out in a laughing fit she thought she’d lose him. Then Jotaro joined and she knew it was too late. Vera sat up and tried to bring Fortune closer to reverse the possible brain damage from the heat but Kakyoin only took her wrist gently, pulling her snug against him and showing precisely what they were laughing at.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” She had Fortune move out of the cave and toss the stone at the mirror they’d been looking out on and soon enough the sun was gone and the sparkling night sky took its place.

The second it was allowed she was first to March out of the cave after the stand user. “Motherfucker!” She shouted up at the sky at the sight of the user dislodged from his perfectly little air conditioned spot behind the mirror.

“Took the stand meaning a bit literal there, didn’t he?”

They made camp after the abused the residual heat from the stand battle before settling in for camp. Of course someone had to keep watch and none other the Jotaro volunteered.

Vera was glad Kakyoin and Jotaro seemed a bit less phased by her presence with one another than before. What she wasn’t expecting was finding Kakyoin leaving Jotaro’s look out spot- looking awfully disheveled and finding none other than Jotaro without a jacket.

It took everything out of Vera to not cackle out in glee- instead letting a smile crack through the facade as Jotaro tried to cover the hickeys on his neck with a palm. “I could heal that for you, or is too personal?”

He didn’t answer, almost looking as if he felt ashamed of what he had done until she stripped off her head dress and top to sit beside him in her tank top as well. “Hey, relax- I’ve messed around with more girls than guys anyway.”

Another quizzical look which earned him a shrug. “My boarding school’s divided- curiosity was bound to take over. Kind of realized I didn’t have a preference- boys are just a bit meaner though.”

Jotaro had to clear his throat to say, “I thought I knew until you came along. Girls annoy the shit out of me so I thought I knew but-“

He ran a hand over his hair, Vera only then noticing that his cap was missing. “I don’t know.” He growled in frustration. She moved in closer, touching his cheek to let him look at her. “I’m not mad, you know. I’m not asking answers either. All I ask is the same curtesy.”

It was a side-tracked idea she hadn’t considered in a long time but which one, if any, of the two she was in love with- she wasn’t sure- then they turn around and like each other and suddenly it seemed both less and more complicated. Could they all be content with a polycule. She hadn’t noticed she was overthinking until Jotaro brought both his hands to cup her face, looking her in the eye and asking. “Can I kiss you?”

She must have seemed shocked because he added, “Just so I can make sure?”

And in that moment it felt impersonal, as if they were just two idiots trying to traverse a topic neither one could think through. “Yeah.” Was all she answered as her hand wrapped around his left wrist and their lips met.

He was clumsy with his kiss, that was for sure. She couldn’t decide if it was the inexperience or simply because his face- and therefore lips- simply dwarfed her own but it was wet and all she could taste was mint cigarette and something fruity she couldn’t quite place.

When he moved away, they stared at each other in disbelief and she couldn’t help but sigh. “Please tell me I’m not the only one that liked that.”

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part 3 #jotaro kujo #joseph joestar #noriaki kakyoin #jean pierre polnareff #fate and fortune

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mileycyprus-hill · 4 years ago

Text

What the Water Gave Me

Arthur Morgan x Mermaid Reader/OC

Chapter 4– Exploration

Thought I wasn’t gonna return, huh? Fooled you—and myself. I wanna thank everyone who’s been so patient with me updating new chapters for all my series since I know it’s been weeks since I posted a new chapter.

You can find previous chapters on my masterlist which is available in my bio.

Also found on AO3.

Summary: Arthur returns to the beach after a hunt and is re-introduced to our lovely mermaid. I hope y’all don’t mind, I’ve switched my reader-insert into an OC, because writing in 3rd person with (y/n) kind of threw off my flow and felt clunky. So I created a name but kept most physical attributes vague to sort of keep it a reader-insert.

Arthur's eyes twitch beneath his closed lids, his breathing shallow and quick. He lays upon a worn cot within the ruins of the old stone fort. The tall trees above him provide relieving shade over the small camp. The events of the past couple weeks seamlessly transition in his memory: Hosea's splattered blood upon the cobblestone street, Lenny's lifeless body on the rooftop, the rolling storm clouds beyond the sea's horizon. Arthur remembers the orange glow of the flames on the ship. The intense heat, followed by the chilling dark waters below. His heart beats hard and fast, thumping loudly in his ears like heavy drums of a battalion. Suddenly, his anxiety ceases and his breathing slows at the sight of a rising sun. Its yellow light shines with warmth as it breaks above a grassy hillside. The green prairie grass grows high as a tall animal crosses the dense field. It gently pushes through the grass, bowing its head to graze on the lush greens. Arthur begins to recognize the animal: a stag. Its rounded rack of antlers sit high upon its head, like a jagged crown of ivory. With a twitch of its ears the stag raises his head and turns to him, acknowledging his presence. But it doesn't startle. The stag gazes with its glassy eyes. They hold a beautiful amber glow that matches the sunlight. Arthur had never seen such beauty in the eyes of a beast, for he had only seen the pupils of their eyes stretch to black after their life had been taken. The sun flashes brightly and Arthur wakes with a deep, ragged breath through his nose. For a moment, he forgets his surroundings until his vision clears. He remembers the gun fight, the man named Hercule, Javier falling on the beach, and the strange woman. Arthur's worry returns at the thought of Javier and the woman surrounded by the soldiers in blue while he and the gang escape into the dense jungle. He hopes Dutch will come up with a plan to get Javier back.

He hopes to see the woman again, alive.

Arthur stands with stiff joints, the skin of his cheeks and forehead feel uncomfortably tight from the sunburn. He recognizes a dark figure crouched over the small fire in front of him. The flames and smoke are kept low to avoid alerting the local patrols.

“Mornin’ Hercule,” Arthur greets with a gravelly voice, “Or should I say, ‘afternoon’?”

He looks up towards the sky to gauge the location of the sun, bringing his hand to his brow to shield his eyes. The dense jungle trees make it difficult to determine the time, and the humidity this far inland makes it feel awfully hot. It feels much like Lemoyne, where the temperature doesn’t break until long after the sun drops and stays humid well through the early morning.

Hercule chuckles lightly and responds, “I’d say it’s nearly twelve o’clock.” He too, looks to the sky with squinted eyes.

His thick accent surprisingly gives Arthur some comfort. The man speaks confidently and coolly, as if he can foretell what’s to happen. He doesn’t waste words either—unlike Dutch who can cause the most eloquent man’s head to spin with such an exuberant vocabulary and lengthy sentences that seem to reach no point.

The man could be a politician if he chose such a life.

”You’re all low on food, my friend.” Hercule says, standing up and sheathing the machete he was wiping. “Might I suggest we go hunt?”

“Now?” Arthur asks, hinting at more important tasks at hand.

Hercule shrugs to him, “Unless you’d rather starve, then yes. I doubt you had eaten anything since you arrived.”

As if on command, Arthur’s stomach growls so loudly that he smacks a hand to his gut in an attempt to stifle its grumbles. He recalls his last meal was the bits of charred rat he shared with the men at the beach.

“Alright but...shouldn’t we focus on gettin’ out of here? Gettin’ our friend back?” Arthur asks hurriedly, attempting to mask his concern. He desperately wants to get off this island and back home—back to his homeland that he knows and understands. He feels helpless being here, like a lost child in an unfamiliar place. It’s an anxious feeling he hasn’t felt in years.

“Your friend Dutch is working on that at the moment with my comrades,” Hercule responds neutrally. “Come, there is plenty of boar on this island, and it’ll be much better with two.”

Hercule picks up the bolt action rifle next to Arthur’s cot and hands it to him after checking the bullets within the barrel chamber.

“You can keep watch for anything suspicious while I hunt,” Hercule says, grabbing a handmade bow and a leather quiver of arrows.

Arthur quirks an eyebrow at the simple bow.

“Think that’d be enough?“ he asks.

“Better to hunt quietly, unless you want that bastard Fussar to find us.” Hercule replies.

Arthur hums, “Good point.”

....

If it weren’t for the fact they’re wanted men on this island, Arthur could find this place rather peaceful. He can hear the shores in the distance as he and Hercule walk closer to the coast, tracking the boar. Arthur scans the area while Hercule walks in front, following the tracks in the sand and dirt. The vibrant colors of the tropical birds catch Arthur’s eyes and he watches them fly up into the trees. Their feathers stand out against the foliage: the bright blues and yellows and striking reds. They’re as large as eagles and far more beautiful than any bird he’s seen back home. Arthur hopes his journal is still safe at home. He wishes he could sketch them right now, while he can still see them. They reach the top of a small hill when Hercule raises his hand.

“There!” Hercule exclaims softly. He notches his arrow and draws the bowstring, aiming at the massive boar below the hill, straight ahead of them.

He looses his arrow and watches it strike the side of the animal with a swift thud. The carved stone arrowhead narrowly misses its heart. It squeals in painful terror and runs in the opposite direction, towards the coast.

“Damn,” Hercule curses under his breath. Arthur shakes his head behind him, watching the broad palm leaves rustle and shake as the boar runs off.

The two of them continue tracking the animal, following the crimson drops of blood on the ivory sand. The air starts to feel cool from the ocean breeze as they walk closer to the edge of the island. The jungle brush grows thinner and the tracks turn from subtle drops to a bloody trail and become easier to follow.

Hercule speaks, “Finally. There it is.” He points to the animal lying dead on the beach. Its dark hide stands out against the white sand.

They approach the dead pig and start to field dress it: removing its hide and cutting the meat into various cuts and wrapping them in cloth. Hercule grabs his large bag and divides the cuts of meat, one half for him, the other for Arthur and the men. The process takes them close to an hour, it’s such a large beast for two men.

“These are for you,” he says, handing Arthur his half of the boar meat. It’s enough to feed the men for several days, and Arthur manages to stuff them into his temporary satchel. Arthur’s makeshift bag is stretched to its limits, holding the large cuts of meat inside its leather boundaries held together with crude stitches.

“The rest I will give to my people and sell to the villagers,” Hercule continues. “Many people are without food on this island.”

“Thank you, Hercule,” Arthur says, following him to the shore.

They walk to the water and wash the blood off their hands. It’s clotted thick on their skin like paint, but easily dissolves away once it touches the salt water. The crimson color fades away with the gentle tide and is erased from their skin.

“You are welcome, Mister Morgan. Soon we will find your friend and get you off this island.” Hercule responds, shaking his hands dry. He starts to head back towards the jungle before he stops.

“I’ll head into the village to sell this and see if I can find a captain who will take you home. I suggest you head back to your camp.” Hercule says. “Do you know your way back?” He asks Arthur, stopping to turn back to him.

Arthur looks to him and nods, “Sure. I remember the way.”

“Always be on alert, Mister Morgan. You can find me at the old fort, Cinco Torres. Not far from here.” Hercule waves a quick goodbye to which Arthur returns as Hercule quickly steps into the jungle.

Arthur now stands alone on the beach, rubbing his fingers along his cotton suspenders and feeling the loose waistband of his pants. He breathes a rough sigh before a harsh cough rumbles from his chest and scratches his throat. He struggles to catch his breath and bends over to rest a hand on his knee. It feels as if he’s still got sea water in his lungs until he finally hacks his throat clear. A thick, wet lump of mucus is coughed up into his mouth. In disgust, he spits out the bloody wad onto the white sand and wipes a trail of blood from his lips. Straightening himself up, he finds that he isn’t alone.

He sees her, peering from behind a rock in the water just several yards away. Arthur freezes in place, watching the strange woman and trying not to spook her. Like predators crossing paths in the wild, they remain motionless and wary, waiting for the slightest twitch that could send either one fleeing or pursuing. The woman remains at her spot, watching and waiting for Arthur’s next move. Her eyes are wide and glassy. Thin white membranes blink slowly over her eyes like cloudy veils and disappear behind her eyelids. Arthur tries to see the rest of her body that’s submerged in the water, but he cannot see from where he stands. He suddenly notices she’s still nude from the waist up, with her long hair covering her chest. The long, wet strands of hair lay plastered on her chest, conforming to her shapely breasts and structured shoulders. They both stay frozen in place, unsure of what to do next.

Her feminine voice softly croaks from behind the rock, sending a chill to Arthur’s flushed skin. “Your friend. The one called Javier?” She says, her voice calm. Her voice has a slight melody to it but, with a wet gargle. Arthur can only describe it as like the trill of a tree frog combined with the eerie, nocturnal warble of an owl.

”Yes?” Arthur responds hesitantly.

“He’s alive.” The woman tells him.

A quiet sigh of relief escapes Arthur’s lips and his eyes light up in a slight rejoice. The tension in his shoulders release only minutely. The woman in the water notices this and allows herself to relax slightly. The pair of them listen to the gentle waves splash on the shore during this quiet exchange of words.

Arthur asks her, “Where, uh, where is he?”

The woman’s wide eyes look down, away from Arthur as if in remorse.

“Held prisoner,” she answers solemnly. “On the plantation.”

Arthur breathes a disturbed sigh at her notification, rubbing his scraggly beard with a rough palm. Feeling brave, he decides to take a step forward in the wet sand.

The woman notices and tenses behind the small rock. Her webbed hands grip the rock tightly, ready to propel herself away. Halting himself, Arthur raises his hands up in surrender.

“Iss-alright. It’s alright,” he drawls in his accent, “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Watching his every move, she waits behind the rock while he slowly removes his shoes and rolls his pants up to his knees. Like approaching the wild horses of the plains, Arthur steps forward into the foaming water with his hands raised just above his hips in assurance. The dazzling blue water gently splashes against his pale legs.

“What’s yer name?” He asks, stepping further in the water until it nearly reaches the fabric of his pants that reach just below his knees.

“(Y/N),” she answers, still guarded.

“That’s a nice name…(Y/N).”

“It was given to me by my tutor.”

“Your…your tutor?” Arthur queries with a pleasant smile, barely showing his teeth behind his lips. He feels a sudden inquisitive need: a curious desire for knowledge that needs to be satisfied.

“Yes. He gave me it. My real name is…Isopora.” She answers. Rarely has she given her true name to strangers, especially humans. But his presence feels non-threatening and oddly comforting. Though, she doesn’t know why.

“Isopora.” Arthur enunciated slowly.

They both smile at his utterance of her name. It rolls off his tongue and falls from his lips like the soft babbling of a stream. Its crisp, clear waters trickle gently over the rocks as it flows from its diverted source of the deep, dark river.

“My name’s Arthur…Arthur Morgan.” He states. His voice is warm and inviting with a rich, complex timbre that mirrors the guttural vocals of the seals from Isopora’s homeland. And that accent! Isopora can’t recognize it. It sounds funny, with his slight garbles and relaxed slurring of consonants.

Arthur reaches out, extending his sunburned hand to her in good faith. Isopora stares at his thick hand and calloused fingers, confused and unsure. Removing her webbed hand from the rock, she mimics Arthur’s pose to place her hand within his. She’s reluctant at first, twitching her hand away at the slightest touch, like a shy wild thing getting used to human contact. Arthur remains still, his arm still extended, until she finally rests her hand in the welcoming handshake. He wraps his fingers around hers in a gentle grip—firm, yet soft.

She expects him to clench his hand around her wrist in a trick and attempt to pull her ashore, but he simply shakes her hand. Her hand grips Arthur’s tightly in a small show of strength, and he notices. Isopora’s grip is firm and Arthur catches the muscles of her forearm contracting as she squeezes. He follows her toned muscles all the way up her biceps to her brawny shoulders.

She’s a work of art, Arthur thinks to himself, eyeing her well-knit body. Her sculpted arms, rounded shoulders, jutted collarbone, and sturdy midsection glisten in the sunlight. Her skin looks wonderfully smooth and her muscles stand out despite hiding beneath a generous layer of warm, protective fat. His gaze moves further down her curves as he steals a glance at her lengthy tail. It’s nearly camouflaged in the tropical blue water, but Arthur watches a bundle of silvery scales glimmer as they catch the rays of sun. Her feathery tail fin swishes against the waves to keep herself steady.

“So uh,” Arthur clears his throat awkwardly, still shaking her hand, “yer really a mermaid?”

An unexpected laugh erupts from Isopora and she bares her teeth in an amused grin. Her sudden joyful bark of laughter infects Arthur and he chuckles alongside her.

Minutes later, after a continued exchange of greetings, Arthur wades back to shore. Isopora follows close behind, but not too close. With a tired grunt, Arthur sets himself down onto the sand, allowing the tide to barely lap at his bare toes. Isopora remains partly submerged in front of him, resting on her stomach and elbows and softly swishing her flukes in the shallow water. A moment of silence passes for God knows how long. Arthur remains transfixed by her colorful form. His eyes examine the seam of her scales that perfectly mold into her skin just below her navel. Arthur expected all of her scales to be smooth and flat like a trout, but the further his eyes travel down her length, he notices the scales grow thicker and larger. Much like the textured scales of a snake, they cover her lower body in a protective armor. The glistening wet scales catch the rays of the bright afternoon sun and shimmer like tiny mirrors, flashing bright colors off her body like rainbows.

"Do you remember anything from the shipwreck?" Isopora asks him in a soft trill.

Arthur’s eyes snap from her tail up to her dark eyes. He furrows his brows in thought as he replays the memories in his mind.

"Sort of," he shrugs, "I remember Dutch waking me up, and there was a fire. And then..."

While Arthur takes his time remembering the incident, Isopora takes the opportunity to look over his features. She admires his tall frame, his broad shoulders, and barreled chest. He looks to be a man of great strength, conditioned by heavy lifting. Though his waist looks narrowed from starvation.

No doubt he's the workhorse of the family, she wonders, recalling the other men she had seen him chained to. She looks at Arthur's hands while he twitches his fingers and raises his arms to animate his story of jumping off the boat.

"...then there was this real high squealing, like a...hum or somethin’," Arthur continues, trying to articulate his thoughts, "And then nothin'."

Isopora hums in agreement, “I forget when I speak underwater, humans can’t quite understand it.”

Arthur narrows his eyes at her in a mix of shock and confusion, “Wait, that...that was you?” He points to her.

She smiles in embarrassment, cinching her eyes closed as she admits, “Yes. That was me.”

“So, you...you saved me?” Arthur points to her. The gears in his head continue to turn as he recollects his memories.

“That’s why you washed up there with me.” He finishes.

Isopora looks behind her towards the water and turns back to Arthur with a playful look. “Would you like to hear?” She offers.

“Shoar,” Arthur drawls. Like a curious child, Arthur scoots a bit further up on the sand, his arms wrapped around his knees.

Isopora’s smile grows wider and she begins to drag herself further into the water. “Okay,” she says, “Stay right there.”

Arthur watches her enter the water. Her blue-green scales disappear under the ocean as the gentle waves splash upon her. With a soft kick of her fin, she swims backwards until the water rises up to her chest. Her eyes stay fixed upon Arthur, who waits curiously on the sand. Arthur watches her smirk and dip silently below the water’s surface. He watches her disappear into the water and slows his breathing so he could listen for her sounds. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Until, an eerie howl echoes from the water. The hairs on his arm stand on edge, but he doesn’t feel afraid. Her high-pitched moans and howls continue and Arthur listens attentively. It almost sounds like singing, he thinks to himself. It’s both haunting and ethereal, like the echoing wail of a loon. Her various pitches become littered with clicks and pops that are so sharp, Arthur could feel the sounds vibrate in his ears. Arthur breathes a small chuckle of amazement at her beautiful song. It lasts for only a minute and finally ends as he watches her break the water’s surface.

She returns to him on the shore, her thick hair wet against her silky skin and the cloudy membranes on her eyes retreat back under her lids. Her naked breasts remained covered by her long hair. Isopora smiles humbly at Arthur while he softly gives a clap of his hands.

“Beautiful,” he says, “What were you singing—er, saying?”

She answers, “The same thing I was trying to tell you that night.”

Arthur looks at her in confusion.

Biting her lip, she explains, “You were struggling and I swam up to help, but when I went to pull you up for air, you started thrashing.” She hesitates for a moment but continues, “I tried telling you ‘it’ll be alright’, but you were so scared.”

Arthur finishes for her, “And that’s when everything went dark,” he says.

“Yeah,” Isopora cringes, “I’m sorry about that...I had to, uh, ‘knock your lights out’. So to speak.”

“What?” Arthur asks in surprise.

”You were thrashing so badly when I grabbed you!” She defends, “I wasn’t trying to keep you under like you thought I was. I was trying to help. But I should know by now that when trying to save a person from drowning, expect to be dragged down with them,” She chuckles.

“Well, that explains why.” Arthur laughs, “No hard feelings, I guess. Ain’t the first time someone did that.”

The smile wanes from Isopora’s face and she looks at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” She asks, her tone serious.

Arthur shrugs in response, picking the sand beneath his fingernails.

“Well,” he sighs, avoiding her gaze and looking past her shoulder to the sea behind her. It extends far beyond the horizon like a blue void. The ripples of the surface waves look like textured glass with bright yellow colors of the sun merging with the ocean blues.

“I tend to find trouble or trouble finds me. I ain’t a good man…I do bad things and bad things are done to me in return.”

“Like what?” Isopora asks, suddenly fearful for her own safety.

“I’ve robbed…killed people. Run with a gang of people like me,” Arthur answers, unsure as to why he’s suddenly opening himself up to a stranger. A creature that should only belong in fairy tales, no doubt. Why is he so talkative all of a sudden, he wonders?

He continues regardless, “Used to be that we’d only steal from the rich and give what’s left to the poor but…seems so long ago now. Now we’re shootin’ up towns in the name of survival. Tryin’ to find a place in the world.”

He speaks with such uncertainty and dread for the future, that whatever choices he makes are fruitless and inconsequential. All forked roads lead to the same inevitable end. Perhaps this is his time for confession. An opportunity to repent one’s sins, with no risk of judgement. There truly was no one else he could speak to about these things—no human being that is. Why not unveil them to this woman? This creature that, realistically speaking, could just be a figment of Arthur’s imagination?

“What made you change?” Isopora asks.

Arthur looks to her eyes with a cold stare, “Weren’t us who changed,” he states defensively, “The world’s changed. Civilization’s movin’ in. And there ain’t room for people like us no more.”

Isopora hums, as if in agreement. “Those men you were chained with,” Isopora recalls from memory, “they’re your people? Your gang?”

Arthur nods.

“That boat,” Isopora continues to pry, “Where were you going?”

“We were headed to Tahiti, initially.” Arthur answers.

Isopora gives him a confused look.

Tahiti? That’s on the other side of the world.

As if hearing her thoughts, Arthur explains.

“Our boat was supposed to go to Cuba. We were runnin’. Hopped on the boat from America and…ended up here, I guess.”

An American? How exciting, Isopora thinks to herself. She’s met different characters throughout her life, but never an American. She’s only heard about these wild, free-spirited, gun-toting creatures with a thirst for adventure.

Isopora laughs dryly, “You’re a long way from Tahiti, my friend. That’s all the way in the South Pacific…We’re essentially in the Caribbean.”

Arthur looks to her inquisitively. He never gave it much thought as to where Tahiti actually is. At this point, he thought it was a fantasy island made up by Dutch to keep spirits up. Isopora guesses that Arthur isn’t quite familiar with world geography, outside his own familiar territory. After all, she doesn’t even know that he’s only ever stayed on land. Never travelled across the sea.

“Well,” Arthur states. “Accordin’ to Dutch, it’s supposed to be an untouched paradise.”

“Kinda small,” Isopora replies.

Arthur gives her another confused look. “You been there?” He asks, almost excitedly.

She shrugs, “Oui. Une fois, il y a longtemps.”

Another blank and confused stare is painted on Arthur’s face in response to her foreign reply.

Isopora smiles, “It’s a French colony. It’s been…decades since I’ve traveled there, and it was only once. But…how do you know there’d be room for you there?

Arthur bites his inner cheek in thought as he huffs, “Hmm…you got a point there.”

“To be honest, it’s better you’re shipwrecked on the way to Cuba than Tahiti. There’s a lot more open ocean to be stranded in the Pacific.”

“You’re a hell of a world traveler, ain’t’cha?” Arthur smirks.

“One could call me that, yes.” Isopora answers with a similar smile.

“Well, I ain’t much of one so, I’ll take yer word for it.”

Isopora opens her mouth to respond until she catches movement from the corner of her sharp eyes. Narrowing her gaze, she sees two men on patrol, heading their way.

Fussar’s soldiers.

Arthur notices her chest falling and rising rapidly.

Following her line of sight, Arthur asks, “What is it?”

Without hesitation, Isopora grabs his hand and tugs him towards the water.

“We must hide!” She hisses in fear, pulling him in with immense strength. She drags him with her as she swims behind a large bundle of rocks. Three large stones stand tall above the water, with a small gap in the center— enough to hide one of them out of sight. The middle stone stands tallest, with the other two standing parallel to each other.

The gap is tight and the water is high. Arthur holds onto Isopora tightly by her waist as he feels his toes float freely in the water, unable to touch the bottom. He struggles to hold himself against the slick rock with his wet hands slipping at each attempt. Isopora’s naked breasts press against his chest as she helps him stay above the water against the waves. He tries his best to avert his eyes, turning his head awkwardly to peek at the oncoming patrol.

Idle fingers start to involuntarily caress Isopora’s smooth scales. A palm lies pressed against her hips, keeping Arthur safely close to her while the other hand tries to brace himself against the rock. His fingers cannot help but examine on their own. The sensation transitions from slightly coarse to velvety soft with each subtle rub on her scales and up to her skin. A pair of voices grow louder as they near the spot Arthur and Isopora once rested. Their words are unfamiliar to Arthur, but he can detect the casual tone of their chatting.

Until he hears a surprised exclaim from the beach and Arthur suddenly remembers.

He left his shoes behind.

His eyes grow wide and he looks up to Isopora. She mirrors his look of terror and listens to the patrolmen talk excitedly.

She understands their language clearly, hearing them talk of where this mystery person could be.

“They must be in the water,” one says.

“Let’s look,” the other replies.

With their chests pressed together, their hearts drum rapidly in sync. Despite the adrenaline surging through his veins, Arthur keeps his breathing slow. He clenches his eyes shut as he silently scolds himself for being so foolish. When his eyelids open, he nearly jerks away in alarm. Isopora remains close to him, but her entire body has now changed color. An arm is slightly outstretched above Arthur’s head with Isopora’s hand pressed against the rock behind him. Peppered with splotches of gray, black and white, her skin has turned into the same pale shade as the stones surrounding them. Her once smooth arms are now textured with raised bumps and edges that mimic the stone. She covers Arthur’s body with her camouflaged form and remains still like a statue. Her eyes turn black and the cloudy membranes of her lids cover her obsidian orbs.

Time passes slowly while they remain as still as can be. The rifle on Arthur’s back painfully presses into him, but he doesn’t dare to adjust himself. He feels Isopora’s hand gripping his side tightly, her arm wrapped around his lower back. The tips of her fingers squeeze his flesh and her body presses against him completely, covering him in a protective cocoon. Arthur’s chapped lips nearly brush her shoulder as she towers over him closely, keeping his face hidden in the crook of her neck.

Isopora’s eyes dart to her left. A man in blue stands at the edge of the tide, less than a hundred feet away.

Rifle in hand, he leans forward to peer towards their hiding spot. It’s as if he’s staring right at them, unaware.

Arthur’s eyes remain on Isopora, fearful of making the slightest movement that could give them away.

Isopora stares at the blue soldier with unwavering eyes. She watches him examine the rough pillars of stone with his own dark eyes. She can feel him follow the curves of her body that’s almost merged with the rock. Arthur stays hidden within the small gap. He squeezes his arm around Isopora’s waist for dear life.

The unseen second patrolman calls for his companion, and the man turns away to look. Isopora’s eyes follow him as he walks out of sight. She hears the men speak as they hopefully assume whoever left those boots is now drowned far away from shore. Isopora listens closely as the men leave and resume walking along the beach. Their voices grow faint until she can hear them no longer. Gradually, the splotchy pale camouflage disintegrates and Isopora’s natural tone reappears in a smooth cascade. Like the blush in Arthur’s cheeks, her beautiful color flushes to her skin. The two remain in a quiet stillness, barely feeling the other’s heartbeat under the gentle waves that splash over them. The waves push and pull in a gentle rhythm. Isopora’s body softly pushes against Arthur’s before pulling away. His own body follows towards her as the wave pulls them back, moving their hips in an almost aquatic dance.

“Come,” Isopora finally breaks the silence, drifting away and extending a hand for Arthur to follow. He lightly grasps her hand and swims alongside her back to shore.

“You think it’s safe for you to head back?” Isopora asks, looking to him with her unveiled eyes.

His clothes drenched and heavy, Arthur stands and walks up on the sand.

“I dunno,” he says, staring blankly in thought, “This island seems t’be crawlin’ with ‘em. I don’t know if it’s safe anywhere.”

An idea breaks in Isopora’s head while Arthur slips on his boots.

“There’s a cave,” she tells him, “Not too far from here, behind the waterfall. Meet me there when you can.”

Arthur’s jaw goes slack and he raises an eyebrow in question, “How do you—”

“There’s a channel that leads to it,” she explains, “I can easily go through it and it leads to a small pool on the other side.”

Arthur nods before looking up towards the sun. It’s still early in the afternoon yet; plenty of sunlight to find his way back.

“Okay. How do I find it?” He asks.

“Just follow the river upstream. You’ll see it. Climb behind the waterfall and follow the cave straight ahead. Follow the gaps in the ceiling. The light will show you the way. You’ll reach the end of the cave that opens to a clearing.” She answers.

Another nod and Arthur turns to face the jungle. He feels exposed on this empty beach with no canopy of cover to hide in, but to enter the hanging vines and broad ferns of the dense forest fills him with dread. What lurks in the dark corners of this humid labyrinth? A single step in the wrong direction could lead to doom.

“Arthur?”

He looks back over his shoulder to Isopora with his bright, blue-green eyes.

“Be safe.” She tells him.

“You too.” Arthur replies in a near whisper.

He steps forward into the trees, shoulders tense and eyes scanning his surroundings. Isopora watches him from the shore until he disappears into the thick and shady foliage.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #mermaid #guarma #fan fiction #i’m back baby #what the water gave me #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x reader #romance #slow burn

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

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Kurtbastian one-shot “Standing on the Brink” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Kurt and Sebastian go to their special spot on the beach one last time to watch a once-in-a-lifetime event. (1687 words)

Notes: Written for the @kurtoberfest prompt ‘Apocalypse’ and inspired by a scene from the movie “Deep Impact” (though I would ask that if you haven’t watched that movie that you read this first so nothing is given away). I am re-writing this for another pairing and thought to freshen this one up a bit and repost it :) Warning for themes consistent with the end of the world - angst, anxiety, etc.

Read on AO3.

“Come on, Kurt!” Sebastian calls. “You’re going to make us late!”

Kurt ignores him, obsessively double-checking the door, pulling on the knob to make sure it’s locked up tight. Kurt takes a step back towards the stairs, then changes his mind and reaches for the knob again. He's reminded of the first night they spent at the beach house. They had just closed escrow, and Kurt couldn’t believe it was really theirs. They didn’t have a lick of furniture in the place and the electricity needed to be switched on. They had no clean water, which forced them to buy gallon bottles from a market a mile down the road, but Kurt insisted they spend the night. And Sebastian caved.

It helped that there was a Hilton nearby in case they absolutely couldn’t hack it.

Kurt had always wanted a beach house. It was one of his lifelong dreams. He’d even put it on his bucket list. Theirs wasn’t one of the biggest or more stylish houses on this stretch of the Atlantic Coast, but that didn’t matter. It was the first thing they bought together �� not something Sebastian simply bought for him.

If Kurt stands quietly, he can pretend he’s back there, with his hand on the doorknob, waiting for that first twist, ready for an adventure to begin.

Not waiting to see one end.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering with the locks, babe,” Sebastian says, changing the scenery with those few words. “We’re not coming back.”

Kurt drops his head, his hand holding firm to the doorknob, reluctant to let go.

“But … but what if they’re wrong?” Kurt reasons, his eyes shut, blocking out the light growing at his back.

Sebastian glances up at the comet streaking across the sky – a ball of blinding white lighting up the night. He smiles, amused at how hard Kurt is trying to ignore the inevitable.

But can Sebastian really blame him?

“Pretty sure they’re not wrong, babe.”

Kurt nods, eyes still squeezed shut. Sebastian climbs the steps to the porch. He puts a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and massages gently. Kurt lets go of the doorknob to take it.

“I wanted to hide under the covers,” Kurt says, wiping a tear from his cheek. “I wanted to make love until we fell asleep in each other's arms. I wanted to be blissfully unconscious when it all ended. No fear. No pain. Just us and our dreams, with hope for tomorrow. Isn’t that how you’d rather tonight be?”

“I thought I did. But this is the end of the world, babe. Literally, a once-in-a-lifetime event!” Sebastian tugs Kurt’s hand, leading him off the porch and away from their sanctuary. “Don’t you want a front-row seat for the show?”

“Not particularly, no.” Kurt clutches hard to his bitterness so he doesn’t break down.

“The weather guy on channel three says it’s going to be spectacular. The sky is clear. There’s not going to be a single cloud to obscure …”

“Jesus Christ! This isn’t a fucking meteor shower, Sebastian!” Kurt snaps, pulling his hand out of Sebastian’s grasp and wrapping his arms around himself. He needs this! Not an asshole fiance morbidly excited to watch the world end! He needs to be held! And if Sebastian isn’t going to do it, then Kurt is going to have to. But no matter how tight he holds himself, he can’t stop shaking.

“I know,” Sebastian says quietly, stopping in the path to take Kurt in his arms. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to … this is how I deal with the heavy stuff.”

“I know.” Kurt leans his forehead against Sebastian’s shoulder. “It just … makes me think about all the stuff we didn’t do yet. The stuff we'll never do.”

“Like what?” Sebastian gives Kurt a second, but they’re running out of time. There’s someplace they both decided to be when that comet hits – the spot of their first kiss. And if they don’t keep walking now, they’ll never make it. This isn’t on Kurt’s bucket list – watch the world end from their special spot on the beach. But it’s the last thing they’re ever going to get to cross off.

They had better make it.

“Like what?” Sebastian repeats when Kurt doesn’t answer, pulling at his hand to get him walking again.

Kurt starts moving, a sob lodging in his throat. “L-like make a Baked Alaska."

Sebastian squeezes Kurt’s hand. It’s such a simple thing, but it’s so like Kurt.

“I never took that zero-gravity flight I was planning,” Sebastian adds.

“You didn’t help me join the mile high club.” Kurt chuckles, gazing off at the water in the direction they’re headed.

“We should have made love on the Cliffs of Dover,” Sebastian says with a sigh.

Kurt turns from the water, reflecting the comet like a second sunrise, and looks at Sebastian.

“But … we did that,” Kurt reminds him, pulling closer as the wind picks up unexpectedly, the ball of light in the sky moving steadily lower.

“I know.” Sebastian wraps an arm around Kurt’s shoulders, rubbing his arm to chase the chill from his body. “I wanted to do that again. It was amazing.”

Kurt laughs, and Sebastian joins in. They casually recount the memory of that vacation to England, how they froze their asses off in an attempt at being wild and spontaneous, ending with Sebastian getting bitten on the ass by a sheep. But as soon as they reach the crest of the sand dunes and see the beach glowing with an unearthly light, they fall into a solemn silence.

They follow a well-worn path down the beach with the sound of fire in their ears - a distant snapping and popping like a fireplace burning in another room.

Like the fireplace back in the living room of their beach house, where they so often sat and slept and made love.

The comet has nearly reached the water when they come to a stop, far enough from the coastline that the encroaching tide retreats long before it ever reaches their feet.

Kurt turns to face Sebastian, half his face in shadow, the other half lit so brightly he looks ten years younger – the same age they were on the day they first met.

“If you had it all to do again,” Kurt asks, “would you …?”

Sebastian nods before Kurt has the chance to finish. “I’d do it the same way. Every bit of it. The good and the bad."

"Really," Kurt says dryly. "So ... the insults, the blackmail, the trying to steal my boyfriend every five seconds - you'd keep all that in if we got to live life over again?"

"Yes," Sebastian replies, nodding emphatically.

"Dare I ask why?"

"Because it led us here," Sebastian says, frowning after the words leave his mouth. "Not the-end-of-the-world here. I think we can both agree that we could do without. But it brought us together. Made us into a couple that loves one another, heart and soul. I wouldn't want to chance doing anything that might mess that up. Because now that I know what life is like with you ... I can't imagine living life without you."

"I guess that makes sense," Kurt says.

"And you?” Sebastian asks.

Kurt gazes at Sebastian thoughtfully, then bursts out in nervous laughter.

“Oh, God, no!” Kurt laughs harder when Sebastian’s sentimental smile falls. “I wouldn't change anything huge. I just mean I would have told you off way more. I would have sprayed you with cologne every time I saw you to cover up that foul stink you were addicted to. I would have gotten you drunk and done something about your awful hair ...”

“Nice, Kurt.” Sebastian huffs. "Real …”

Kurt’s lips kissing his shut Sebastian up. Kurt aims for fun, light, carefree with this kiss. He doesn’t want this kiss to be significant in any way. He wants it to feel like any other kiss. But it can’t be helped. There are forces beyond their control moving things along quicker with every passing second. Kurt might want this to feel like any other kiss, but what it really feels like is their last.

“I would have told you I loved you,” Kurt says, putting a hand to Sebastian’s cheek, “much, much sooner.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees, leaning in to Kurt’s touch. “I would have done that, too.”

The comet streaking across the sky finally hits the water, further out than it appears from the beach. A ripple of energy spreads down the horizon, pushing Kurt and Sebastian back a few feet, almost knocking them to the sand, followed by a boom so loud it makes Kurt’s ears ring. A flash of white floods the sky. The ground beneath their feet quakes. The Atlantic sweeps out, sucked so far back that what was once miles of water is now miles of sand.

And somewhere on the other side of the world, a wall of water rises.

“Sebastian!” Kurt yells over the ringing in his ears, his voice shaking. “This isn’t right! Your family … you had a bunker. You had … you had a seat on the plane to the fallout shelter at Greenbrier! With the President, for fuck’s sake!”

Sebastian shakes his head. “They wouldn’t take you. We tried …”

“You ...” Kurt’s eyes dart to the water rising higher and higher as it rushes to the shore “... you shouldn’t be here!”

Sebastian wraps an arm around Kurt’s waist. He puts a finger beneath Kurt’s chin, bringing his attention back from the vision of death racing towards them and up to his eyes.

“Kurt …” Sebastian pauses a second. He wants to remember this image of Kurt – his fiery-tempered, excessively talented, singularly gorgeous fiancé - at this moment, bathed in pure white light, for as long as it lasts. “I’m right where I want to be.”

Kurt shakes his head weakly. “Sebastian, I’m …”

Sebastian’s arm tightens around Kurt’s waist. Before Kurt can finish his apology, their lips touch ...

... and the wave hits.

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #kurtbastian fic #kurtoberfest #apocalypse

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hysterialevi · 4 years ago

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His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 3

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

Previous chapter | Next chapter

This story is also on AO3

ONE WEEK LATER

OUTSKIRTS OF BLACKWATER

Steadily moving his line of sight just along the distant horizon, Shay Mackintosh kept a close eye on the bank in Blackwater as a number of customers went in and out, completely oblivious to the gang that lurked no more than a stone’s throw away from them.

At the moment, the town seemed pretty calm. Normal. Ordinary. Not nearly as hostile as the last time Shay set foot there. That must’ve meant that the people had either grown too comfortable with their lives, or that there was someone else guarding the perimeter for them. And considering the rumors of Pinkertons roaming around Tall Trees, Shay assumed it was the latter.

...Dammit, he mentally cursed to himself.

The last thing the Van der Lindes needed to worry about right now were Pinkertons. Dutch was already close to losing his mind as it was, and with the Skinner Brothers’ growing presence in West Elizabeth, Shay doubted the man would be calming down anytime soon.

If federal agents started going after them... well, he didn’t even wanna think about the chaos they’d cause.

Though... this could’ve been a blessing in disguise, depending on how one looked at it. As money-hungry as their gang was, Shay could see that everyone was anxious to get out of West Elizabeth and move on somewhere safer. Somewhere that didn’t have lawmen or rival gangs prowling around every corner.

A few of the other members had already expressed their concerns surrounding the upcoming robbery in Blackwater, and with the presence of Pinkertons now being an issue, Shay expected there would be even more infighting back at their hideout.

If too many threats presented themselves at the same time... perhaps Dutch would finally see sense and agree to relocate their camp.

But... then again, that could’ve just been wishful thinking on Shay’s part. Dutch was known for his stubbornness, after all, and Mackintosh couldn’t remember the last time their leader ever swayed his mind about something without raising hell about it first.

If he truly had his mind set on robbing this godforsaken bank, then... Shay supposed that was what they’d do. Dutch was the boss in the end of the day, and his word was practically law.

It didn’t mean Shay wasn’t worried, though.

“Mackintosh...!” A man’s voice suddenly called out from behind, cutting off Shay’s train of thought.

The outlaw whipped around in alarm and instantly reached for his pistol, only to come to a halt once he saw who it was.

“Jesus, Arthur...!” he whispered in a startled tone. “I nearly blew your goddamn head off. Thought you was one of them Skinner boys.”

The older man chuckled, crouching down so that he was at the same level as Shay.

“I’ll try not to take that as an insult. What’re you doin’ out here?”

Mackintosh returned to his binoculars, focusing the lenses. “Dutch asked me to scout the place out before we move in. He wanted to know what we’re dealin’ with.”

Arthur leaned closer to Shay and squinted his eyes, trying to follow the man’s gaze. “...And? You see anything worth noting? How many guards are at that bank?”

“Well... I’ve counted about a dozen so far, though there could be more I’m not seeing. They switch every once in a while, but it ain’t often. Not many openings for us to charge in.”

Shay lowered his binoculars for a second, turning to face Arthur. “...I won’t lie to you, Morgan. It’s gonna be difficult to rob this bank. The whole thing’s under heavy guard, and there are Pinkertons wanderin’ in the streets now. It’d be a huge risk to grab this score, even with all our men.”

The other man held his hand out. “Here. Lemme take a look.”

Passing the device over to Arthur, Shay patiently stood by as the man thoroughly scanned the area, picking up every detail he possibly could.

“Yeah...” Arthur muttered worriedly, “...security’s gotten real tight in Blackwater, that’s for sure.”

“And you still think it’s a good idea to hit this town?” Shay questioned.

“It don’t matter what I think,” Morgan replied. “It ain’t up to me.”

“No, but I imagine you still have a mind of your own, don’t you? As well as your own concerns.”

The older man gave him a cautionary side glance. “It sounds like you’ve got some, Mackintosh. Care to share?”

Shay sighed in a defeated manner. “Look, I know Dutch thinks this’ll be a easy score since Blackwater’s such a small town, but small doesn’t always mean easy. It just means more concentrated. I mean, look at this place.”

He gestured to the settlement in front of them. “Blackwater’s essentially one, giant square. All the buildings are more-or-less in the same area, and it ain’t nearly as convoluted as the other cities we’ve hit. There are fewer blind spots to worry about. Fewer entrances to keep an eye on. Fewer places for us to hide if things go south. And there’s also the fact that Pinkertons have been seen in Tall Trees. If this plan goes awry--”

“--It won’t.” Arthur interrupted.

“...If it does,” Shay reiterated, “we’ll be dead men. The law will have no problems cagin’ us in, and we’ll be hanged on the spot.”

As much as Arthur hated to admit it, the man had a point. Blackwater wasn’t exactly the ideal place for an outlaw to be right now, and with all the threats surrounding them in this area, he couldn’t deny that he thought they might’ve been better off staying the hell away from this town.

But even then, his thoughts were irrelevant. No matter what his opinions were, it was Dutch who always had the final say, and Arthur knew damn well that a few lawmen strolling about wouldn’t be enough to scare the old man off.

If they were going to convince Dutch to leave Blackwater alone, they’d need one hell of a good reason. And at the moment, Arthur couldn’t think of one.

“Look,” Arthur said, keeping his voice down, “I hear you, Shay. But like I said before, it ain’t my choice whether we stick around or not. That’s Dutch’s decision.”

Shay persisted. “Well, yeah, but you’re the only one he actually listens to. That’s why I’m tellin’ you this, Morgan. If you speak with Dutch, he might see where we’re coming from.”

Arthur put the binoculars down. “And if he doesn’t, we risk being accused of being traitors.”

Mackintosh quirked a brow. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“That’s how Dutch’s mind works now,” Morgan explained. “I dunno if you’ve noticed, but he’s a paranoid mess these days. He values loyalty above everything else in this world, and in his head, loyalty means you don’t question anything he does. If I bring up our concerns about this robbery and Dutch doesn’t see reason, he’ll lose all his faith in us. I’ve seen previous gang members get shot over less.”

Shay’s expression froze with shock. “Jesus. I knew Dutch was unstable, but that’s downright lunacy.”

Arthur sighed in frustration. “He ain’t a lunatic. He’s just...” he trailed off, unable to find the right words. “...look, forget it. Let’s just get back to camp. I’m sure Dutch is waiting to hear what we’ve found.”

Shay took his binoculars back, sliding them into his satchel. “And then you’ll have a word with him?”

The other man rose to his feet, nodding in response. “I’ll... I’ll see what I can do. I ain’t gonna promise anything, but I’ll try to make him see reason.”

Mackintosh followed Arthur’s actions and returned to his horse, preparing to head back to camp. “Thank you, Arthur. That’s all I ask. Lots of folk are nervous about this robbery, and I wouldn’t wanna see half our gang get wiped out all because of one mistake.”

Arthur thought back to the ferry job they did eight years ago, not even bothering to point out the extreme irony in Shay’s statement.

“...No,” he settled for, sounding much more regretful than before. “We wouldn’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A LITTLE LATER

AURORA BASIN

Opening the door to Dutch’s cabin, Arthur and Shay both sauntered into the cold living room as the smell of lingering smoke smacked them in the face, causing the latter to let out a series of coughs.

At the moment, Dutch was mindlessly chewing on the tip of a freshly-lit pipe and steadily pacing around the room, allowing him to think more intently as he listened to Micah prattle on about some nonsense.

It looked like the other man had just returned from his own journey, judging by the heavy satchel slung over his shoulder. There didn’t seem to be much in it other than a few dead rabbits, and considering the fact that there was still some blood on Micah’s glove, Arthur assumed the man had been out hunting.

About time he did something useful, Arthur thought. The man rarely ever lifted a finger around camp other than to swat flies, and when he wasn’t irritating the hell out of the other gang members, he was back in this cabin, doing whatever he could to lick Dutch’s boots. Though, this time... the tone of Micah’s voice suggested he may have been here for another reason.

“Shay! Arthur!” Dutch barked once his gaze landed on the two new guests in his cabin. “You’re back. What did you learn?”

“The bank’s locked up tight, Dutch,” Mackintosh answered, stepping closer to him. “We counted about a dozen guards standing outside of it, and I also spotted some new security measures while we was there. They’ve got more walls. More gates. More places to trap us if we ain’t careful. This is gonna be a risky job no matter how many people we bring.”

The older man didn’t seem pleased. “Well, that’s good to know, but I thought I told you to be discreet.”

Shay blinked in confusion. “We... were. We didn’t set a single foot in Blackwater and scouted it from the outskirts. Just like you said.”

“Oh, is that so? Then why is it that there’s someone in town looking for us?”

Arthur jumped in, his interest now piqued. “Wait, there is?”

Dutch gestured to Micah. “Yeah, Micah saw him. He was just telling me about it before you boys walked in. Said he spotted them in the saloon.”

The other man nodded casually. “Sure did. It was a young man. About this tall. Blonde. I didn’t catch his name, but he was askin’ all sorts of folk if they knew who the Van der Lindes were. Also if they knew Dutch. He seemed pretty determined to find us. Luckily, he didn’t notice me.”

Arthur rubbed his chin, suddenly feeling a lot less confident about bringing up his concerns to Dutch. “...Shit. Was he a lawman?”

Micah shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. He didn’t look like one. Didn’t have no shiny badge neither. My guess is he’s a bounty hunter.”

Shay furrowed his brows. “A single bounty hunter tracking us down all by himself? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Arthur took on a more cautionary tone. “Who says he’s by himself? You’d have to be a fool to fight a gang on your own. It’s most-likely he’s got more friends that we haven’t seen yet.”

Micah shrugged. “That, or he doesn’t realize how close he is to us. Probably thinks he’s still got a ways to go before worryin’ about any sort of fighting. After all, no one expects to find what’s right under their nose.”

Mackintosh changed the subject. “Either way, if this man’s asking questions all around town, he’s gonna draw attention to us. We need to deal with him before anyone else takes an interest.”

“He’s right,” Arthur agreed, turning to Dutch. “You want us to deal with him, Dutch? We can go back to Blackwater. Take him out right now.��

“No.” The man responded, causing all three of them to fall silent.

“...No?” Micah asked, significantly more concerned now. “But if we don’t kill him now, he’s bound to find our camp later.”

Dutch grinned deviously at that. “Exactly. It’s too risky for us to attack him when he’s in the heart of civilization. There are too many obstacles. Too many guards. Too many people. So, instead... I say we let him find us. We’ll play along, let him think that we don’t know what he’s doing, and when he finally comes waltzing into the lion’s den -- that’s when we’ll strike.”

“But what if he’s not alone?” Arthur pointed out. “We’ll have an entire group of bounty hunters right on our doorstep.”

“Then we fight.” Dutch said plainly. “We have enough men to deal with a few guns. We’ll be alright. For now, though, just stay focused on the bank. I don’t want any of you worrying about no bounty hunters unless we have to. Understand?”

The three of them exchanged looks for a moment, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t worth an argument.

“Of course, Dutch,” Micah finally complied. “You’re the boss.”

The older man appeared satisfied with that answer. “Good. Now get back to work. All of you. This bank ain’t gonna open itself.”

Ending the conversation there, Dutch put his smoking pipe away and gave a simple wave of the hand, signaling for everyone to return to their lives while he wandered back to his rocking chair.

Shay and Micah were already halfway out the front door by the time Dutch took a seat, but as always, Arthur remained the odd one out and stayed in place, pondering what he should do next.

Unbeknownst to him however, he wasn’t the only one thinking.

“...I know that look, Arthur.” Dutch remarked, his back turned to him. “I’ve known it for the past eight years. There’s somethin’ you wanna say, isn’t there?”

The younger outlaw hesitated for a second, unsure of whether he should tell the truth.

“...Yeah...” he grumbled out, “but you ain’t gonna like it.”

Dutch chuckled. “Try me.”

Walking up to Dutch, Arthur took a while to gather his thoughts before joining the other man’s side, stopping to lean against a nearby table. He still wasn’t entirely certain if he wanted to express his true thoughts to his friend, but deep down, Arthur knew that what Mackintosh said at Blackwater had merit in it.

“...I think we should leave Blackwater alone.” Arthur admitted at last, earning a puzzled look from Dutch.

The older outlaw paused for a moment, wrapping his head around what the other just said.

“Leave Blackwater... alone?” He repeated, clearly not on board with the idea.

“It’s too risky, Dutch. We don’t even know if the bank is worth it. We’ve got no idea how much cash is really bein’ held in that vault, and on top of that, there’s a shit ton of guards patrolling the area. You heard Shay back there. They’ll shoot us down before we even reach the building.”

“Which probably means there’s a lot of money just sittin’ in there waiting to be stolen! Why else would the security be so tight?”

Arthur knew he was going to say that. “And what about these Pinkertons? We’ve all heard the rumors. They’ve been seen in Tall Trees, Dutch. That’s right outside our camp! All they have to do is take one wrong step, and they’ll be on top of us before we know it. We have to leave now. We don’t want a repeat of what happened in Blackwater eight years ago. You remember the chaos that led to?”

Dutch sighed. “Of course I do. But we won’t make that mistake again. This time, we’ll be better prepared.”

The younger man held his hands out in a perplexed manner. “How? We have even fewer men than we did for the ferry job, and the bounty on our heads is bigger than ever. How are our chances gonna be any higher for this score?”

“Because we have you now.” Dutch said. “You wasn’t with us for the ferry job, and neither was Hosea. And look how that turned out.”

He stood up from his chair and placed a reassuring hand on Arthur’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “But we have your help this time. Hosea may not be with us anymore, but I know for a fact you wouldn’t let me down, son. I have no doubts that this job’ll go just fine.”

Arthur saw right through the flattery and put his hands on his hips, completely at a loss for words.

There was nothing he could say or do that would convince Dutch to leave Blackwater, was there? The man was entirely obsessed with the city by now, and Arthur knew that at the heart of it, none of this really had anything to do with the money in the first place. It was purely about Dutch’s pride.

He knew that Dutch still hadn’t gotten over what happened to them all those years ago, and he knew that the old man wouldn’t take his eyes off this town until he managed to pull off a successful score.

He was falling victim to his own insanity, and Arthur had no other choice but to try and pull him away from the edge. It was one hell of a risky move to make, but he decided it’d be worth it.

Arthur let out a remorseful breath and lowered his head, almost whispering his next words.

“...You’re losin’ yourself, Dutch.” He said vehemently. “I can see it everyday. More and more of the old you is just... vanishing.”

The older outlaw appeared taken aback by the abrupt notion and narrowed his eyes, almost looking offended.

“Losing myself?” He replied, his voice dangerously calm. “...How so?”

Arthur gestured vaguely at the room around them. “Look at what we’re doing, Dutch. How many men have we lost just tryin’ to reach Blackwater? Not to mention actually stealing from it. Our gang is dyin’ out here. This area’s too dangerous for the likes of us, and yet... we won’t leave. You won’t leave. The Dutch I know would’ve packed his bags long ago.”

The other man fell silent at that and tightened his lips, making an expression that said Arthur had just crossed the line.

“You think I’m losin’ myself.” Dutch parroted once again, his tone completely flat. “You think... I’m... losing. Myself.”

He took a few steps away from Arthur and began pacing around the room, chuckling to himself in a heartbroken manner.

“...Hosea is dead, Arthur,” Dutch stated, sounding more feral with every passing second. “John is a traitor. My health is deteriorating, we have the law on our tail, and now, the only son I have left thinks I’ve gone crazy--”

The tyrannical man brought his gaze back to Arthur, his eyes wide open with madness.

“Of course, I’m losing myself, Arthur! Wouldn’t you? This world... has gone to shit! Civilization has no room for folk like us, and even within our own world of murderers, thieves, and rapists -- we are still tearing ourselves apart! I have sacrificed everything to keep this gang afloat, even when we went through hell! You are my family, Arthur. You, Hosea, John, Miss Grimshaw... you were all my family. But just like the rest of them, you’re startin’ to lose faith in me too!”

Dutch pulled his revolver out, blatantly aiming the weapon at Arthur.

“Are you gonna leave me, Arthur? You gonna turn your back on me and leave me to the goddamn wolves, just like the rest of them? Are you a snake?”

Arthur held his hands up, absolutely bewildered by Dutch’s deranged response.

“What? No! I’m right here, Dutch. I ain’t gonna leave you.”

“That’s what they all said,” the older man dismissed, evidently unconvinced. “That’s what they all tried to tell me. But when it really mattered, they all--”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Dutch’s words were cut off when he was suddenly struck by a coughing fit, causing him to drop his gun as his entire body heaved uncontrollably.

“Dutch!” Arthur exclaimed out of concern, rushing over to him.

The man continued to cough aggressively and hurriedly searched for his chair, desperately wanting to sit down as he leaned on Arthur for support.

“Easy, Dutch...” he comforted, helping the man into his seat. “Just... take it easy.”

Setting Dutch down, Arthur kept a firm grip on him until he was sure he wouldn’t keel over and stood patiently at his side, waiting until the man’s coughing fit calmed down.

“You okay there, old man?” He asked. Dutch coughed a few more times, eventually hacking up some blood before spitting it on the floor.

Arthur eyed the blood with a worried glance, trying to hide how frightened he truly was about the man’s health.

“Jesus...” he murmured. “Dutch, I’m sorry--”

“--Don’t.” The other man interrupted, wiping his mouth clean. “I don’t want no pity.”

Finally back to his normal state, Dutch let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair, clearly worn out from the havoc his own body just put him through. His skin was much paler now, and just by listening to the shaky rhythm of his breath, Arthur could tell he was getting weaker and weaker by the minute.

It wouldn’t be that long now before he was at Hosea’s side again. The only doctor who could’ve possibly given Dutch some sort of treatment was all the way in Blackwater, and even if they somehow managed to sneak him past all the law, Arthur doubted there was anything they could do to save him.

Dutch’s life was quite literally slipping out of his grasp these days, and much like everything else they had lost in the past few years, there was no way they could get it back.

Even with Arthur at his side.

“...R’you gonna be okay, Dutch?” Morgan asked solemnly, despite the obvious answer.

The outlaw shook his head, throwing a glare at him. “What d’you think?”

Arthur’s shoulders slouched in despondency. “I know, I know. Stupid question. I just...”

He cleared his throat, deciding to drop the subject. “...Never mind. Forget I said anything. Just... take care of yourself, alright? None of us wanna see you go too soon.”

Dutch nodded in response, admittedly curious about what Arthur was going to say.

“I’ll try, son.” He reassured, his voice much softer now. “You know me. I was born to be an outlaw. All the way to the end. And I intend to go out like one.”

~~~~~~~~~~

ONE HOUR LATER

BLACKWATER SALOON

Humming quietly to himself, Isaac relaxed on the edge of his bed as he gently cleaned the Springfield rifle in his grasp, preparing for the storm ahead. It had taken him nearly three months to get to where he was now, but after all the traveling and searching and questioning... he was finally close to reaching the Van der Linde gang. And to killing Shay Mackintosh.

It was strange, Isaac found, to think about everything he had been through these past fifteen years. At the start of this hurricane, he was nothing more than a boy merely trying to survive with the men who killed his mother, but now... he was the one delivering them to Hell’s gate.

He knew it probably meant nothing to the people around him -- and some might’ve even considered him crazy for pursuing revenge for so long, but ever since Eliza’s death -- Isaac had had this sense of hatred burning inside him that he just... couldn’t let go.

It was always there. No matter what he did. Even when he smiled, or laughed, or cried... he could feel it growing within him like a parasite.

There were some days when Isaac managed to go from dawn to dusk without a single thought of what happened to him, but late at night, when he’d delve into his dreams, the same nightmare would come back every single time to haunt him, and he’d see her face again. Hear her final words. Her final breath. And the next morning... he’d have a gun in his hand, ready to hunt down the men responsible for her suffering.

It was agonizing sometimes, to deal with such a unique rage. Isaac wanted nothing more than to settle down somewhere and live a normal life, but every time his memories reminded him of the horrific murder, he’d feel the same hatred growing inside him again and set out on his journey for vengeance, craving the blood of those who wronged him.

Perhaps that made him a monster in some people’s eyes. Isaac recalled Minister Swanson mentioning that he saw something darker in the boy’s heart, but to him, this was the only path that made sense.

There was no justice out in the Wild West, after all. You were either the victim, or the victor. If Isaac didn’t go after Mackintosh himself, Lord knew that no one else would. And on top of that, he figured his mother deserved to rest in peace after fifteen years of watching her killers wander freely.

It was what Eliza would’ve wanted, Isaac imagined, and he wasn’t going to forget it.

Sighing in discontent, Isaac set the rifle down and stared aimlessly at the window in front of him, admittedly feeling somewhat torn about these upcoming weeks.

What was he going to do when he found Mackintosh? What was he going to say? Would the man even recognize him after all these years? Would Isaac recognize Shay?

Well, whatever happened, one thing was clear. Mackintosh had to die. However or whenever that came to be, Isaac didn’t care. The only thing that concerned him was landing the killing blow.

Mackintosh was the one who pulled the trigger when Eliza died, so Isaac only deemed it fitting that he’d be the one bring it into a full circle.

He may’ve not had any family left, but by God was he going to avenge them.

Interrupting Isaac’s thoughts, a knock suddenly came from the door and averted the young man’s attention, causing him to stand up from the bed.

“Just a moment!” He called out, quickly slipping into his coat before striding to the entrance.

Swinging the door open, Isaac found himself face-to-face with a rugged-looking man. He had graying blond hair, a horseshoe mustache, cold-blue eyes, and a special kind of demeanor to him that shouted “degenerate.”

The visitor threw a casual wave at him, clearly not realizing what sort of impression he gave off.

“Hey there, cowpoke,” he greeted, his tone oozing with connivance. “...Mind if we talk for a minute?”

Isaac subtly kept a hand on his pistol, trying to conceal his mistrust. “That depends. Who are you? What d’you want?”

The man chuckled. “Suspicious one, ain’t you? Have no fear...” he held his hands up, “I ain’t here for that. In fact, I’m here to help you.”

That didn’t make Isaac feel any better. “That so? Well then, why don’t you answer my first question? Who are you?”

He placed an introductory hand on his chest. “Relax, princess. The name’s Micah. As for what I want, well... I couldn’t help but overhear your conversations with some of the folk downstairs, and it sounds to me like you’re lookin’ for the Van der Linde gang. Am I right?”

Isaac nodded slowly. “...Yeah. Why? You have information on them?”

Micah smirked. “More than you think. And I’m willin’ to share some of it...” He held up a finger. “For a price, of course.”

The young man wasn’t even surprised. “Of course. And how much are you willing to share?”

Micah shrugged. “That depends on how much you’re paying. Information like this don’t come cheap, boy. If you want somethin’ good, you’ll have to pay good money.”

Isaac was still hesitant to accept the deal. “Makes sense, but how do I know your information’s legitimate? Anyone can claim they know about the Van der Linde gang.”

The outlaw grinned and crossed his arms. “Aren’t you a smart cookie. Well... what if I told you I was one of them?”

The boy froze, uncertain of whether he should take the man seriously. “...You’re just pullin’ my leg now. Why the hell would a Van der Linde talk to me if they knew I was lookin’ for them? How does this benefit you?”

Micah sighed in a melodramatic tone. “It pains me to say it, but our current leader, Dutch van der Linde... let’s just say he ain’t doin’ too good.”

“Speak plainly,” Isaac said. “What d’you mean?”

“He’s ill.” Micah explained. “With what, we don’t know. But he’s withering away with each passing day, and it don’t look like there’s much chance of him getting better. Thing is, though...” he leaned on the doorframe, “he has yet to clarify who’s gonna take his place once he’s gone. And at the moment, he’s got two people in mind. One of ‘em being me.”

It didn’t take long for Isaac to catch on. “So, you want me to get rid of your competition?”

Micah shook his head. “Not yet. First, I wanna see what you’re capable of. I’ll give you the information you need, see if you actually manage to find us, and then I’ll know whether you’re just some yellow-bellied pretty boy, or if you really know how to handle that rifle. Then, we can move on to... other business.”

Isaac considered the offer, admittedly still somewhat hesitant to do business with this man.

As strange as it may’ve seemed, Micah actually sounded like he was being genuine. He spoke about the Van der Lindes as if he actually knew them, and his information had been pretty specific so far.

The only part that confused Isaac was why he would be so willing to endanger his fellow gang members. It was widely-known that outlaws weren’t the type to practice camaraderie -- Isaac had seen that for himself -- but even this was a new low.

Still, it wasn’t his concern what the Van der Lindes were up to. As long as Micah’s information got him closer to Mackintosh, nothing else truly mattered.

“...Alright,” Isaac finally agreed. “I’ll buy your information, Micah.”

The outlaw smiled slyly. “Glad to hear it. How much you paying?”

The young man quickly thought of an offer. “...Fifteen bucks.”

Micah looked impressed. “Good, but not good enough. How’s about we bump it up to twenty?”

“Seventeen.”

“Eighteen.”

Isaac settled with that. “Done.”

Micah shook his hand, a little too happy about where this was going.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you, mister. I promise... you won’t regret this.”

#Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #dutch van der linde #Micah Bell #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 oc

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