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jawllines · 5 years ago

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So when he rolled up to the nurse’s station at 6PM just before she gave report to night shift, a stolen pudding cup in hand and cheeks rosy from the cold chill of Gibby’s hospital room. Harry grins at her, “Let me drive you to my place, yeah? I’m making dinner tonight.”

Her brows raise, a smile teases her mouth as she finishes writing down a cheat sheet for each room that she can give to the nurse coming in (she’s a bit new, and doesn’t know the flow of the floor very well yet, so Y/N tries to help when she can) “Yeah? Didn’t know you could cook.”

A gasp leaves him, “Oi, of course I can cook! I could make a Sunday roast that would put any Nan on the block to shame.”

Y/N gets everything she’s ever wanted (Harry does too)

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

part 6

vii.

“Holy fuck.”

Y/N had been equal parts nervous and excited when Harry invited her to his flat, a mere four days after they returned from Sweden. In all their time together, and in what they had gone through in the past few months, Y/N had not even so much as been extended the offer to go to his flat, let alone actually be privy to it. To no fault of his own -- Y/N reckons that the last thing on his mind was a tour of his home when someone was threatening to rob their company blind and murder his boss -- but that never meant she wasn’t curious.

She was excited because she thrived off visiting people’s places for the first time and learning what their decorating techniques consisted of. Ever since they’d started chatting past the nurse/family relationship, Y/N had been intrigued to know what his place looked like, and would even theorize about it sometimes if she had a moment to spare. Harry had very offhandedly mentioned that he had a Tanuki statue stationed to the right of his door as soon as you walked in, and Y/N (who also had a Tanuki statue) had her interest piqued immediately. Did she and Harry have similar decorating styles or just equivalent odd taste in staple items? Was that his only piece of decoration?

Some boys she considered complete psychopaths and had barren walls besides maybe a flag or a singular sports poster -- that’s why she’s nervous. Hell, she’d love him all the same if he was repping a Manchester football poster but visiting his flat would be a bit of a struggle.

A gasp leaves him, “Oi, of course I can cook! I could make a Sunday roast that would put any Nan on the block to shame.”

“Better watch your mouth, Miss. Gregory has a keen sense of hearing and would beg to differ.” She clicks her pen shut, looking up to where he was leaning against the counter, “I’ll let you drive me, yeah, but can we stop by my place so I can grab Ubbe and a change of clothes? Reckon you don’t want the scent of hospital clouding your flat.”

‘Yes we can stop to grab Ubbe, no you may not grab any clothes. Want you in mine.”

Y/N pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, fixing a response for him in her head but Johnathan just about trips over himself with a convenience store cappuccino and a reusable grocery bag with his lunch, “I’m so sorry m’late, my bloody dog decided he was going to wee on my scrubs.”

“Well, I hope you changed out of them.” Harry notes and Y/N snorts, rolling her eyes before she rolls her chair over to him and starts her shift report.

Things had been calm since they returned from Sweden. Or as calm as they can be post-kidnapping, attempted murder, gang fiasco they had encountered there. When Y/N saw Gibson after it had happened, he pulled her into his body closely and squeezed her tight enough that she had a bit of trouble breathing. Y/N couldn’t lie, she was immensely happy to see him, and despite what she had learned about his relationship between him and his son, she let herself enjoy the cuddle. Even the kiss that he pushed to her temple, before holding tight on her shoulders, “I am not a man who fears many things,” he had started slowly, “Nor am I a man who cares about many things, but you -- I care about you,” he cradles her cheeks in his palms, patting it gently, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Gibson -- just as Harry -- had a knack for making her feel like a very important addition to their lives. He was relieved to know that she would be his main nurse for the day, and Y/N it’s so he could keep an eye on her. She couldn’t fault him for it though because she beckons Harry around so that she can keep an eye on him. Niall doesn’t think anything is out of the ordinary regarding it, since they usually traveled in something short of a pack. The only reference to the night before that he made (other than asking about her hand, which she had promptly explained that she drunkenly broke a vase and tried to clean it up with her hands) was squeezing her shoulders and uttering, “Champagne turns you into a lightweight, ey? Harry treat you right?” Harry smiled a bit to himself and Y/N cleared her throat, tucking the hair behind her ear.

“Tucked me in, got me water, nursed my hangover, the whole nine.”

Niall patted Harry on the shoulder, “Nice then, mate. Hear one thing about you hurtin’ her and I’ll have to do ya in.”

Harry pouted, “What’s with all the threats my way?”

The night before had felt surreal; a bad, hyper-realistic dream that stuck with her like syrup to a plate. There wasn’t much on the agenda for them since the wedding had passed so they all kind of lingered in Niall and Gibson’s room. They ordered room service, rented a horror film (Gibson was something short of a horror buff, it turned out), and relaxed for the first time in a very long time. It felt like everyone had collectively let out a sigh (apart from Niall, who remained blissfully unaware and fast asleep most of the day).

Harry allowed the others to love upon her for a majority of the time they spent in Gibson’s room. She alternated from being close to where Gibson sat, to leaning against Mickey, and hell she even hung out with Niall a bit when he bothered to wake up. The only bits alone they had together were when she would take Ubbe out for a wee, which normally Mickey might want to accompany her during, but Harry was insistent that he be the one. Had practically pushed her over attempting to get up before Mickey could even think to say that he wanted to go, which he later apologized for.

“I just. . .it won’t be like this for long, but I just -- I wanna be near you, y’know?”

She did know -- because she didn’t want him out of her sight. The few moments that she had to spend, leaving him behind with someone who would ( did) harm him given the chance -- she couldn’t stand it. Could have crawled out of her skin even -- and she knows he must have felt the same, if not worse. Y/N was even more thankful now than ever that they were sharing a hotel room.

Because by the end of the night, when Y/N gave Gibson his nighttime meds, tucked Niall in, and pecked a kiss to Mickey’s scruffy cheek -- they got to flee together. Popped open the door to their room, Ubbe ran in first and beat them to the bed, and Harry suggested a cheeky shower together which -- well, Y/N said if he didn’t mind her in a shower cap (she couldn’t be arsed to wash her hair) then they could go right ahead and do it.

So they did, and Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever been this close with someone before. She helps him tie a plastic baggy over his thigh so that the bandage didn’t get wet before she changed it, and in turn, he helped her tie her own around her hand, “It’s good that I’m here, hm? How else would you clean this arm if you didn’t have me?”

“Niall is dexterous enough.” She teased him.

“I can assure you that I’m far more adept with my fingers than Niall.”

Nothing but bare, smooth skin that their hungry eyes drink each other in. Harry had a lot of tattoos and she can’t help but outline them with her gaze, though she does attempt not to let them wander too far downward -- she would feel bad to stare at his bits, even if he was getting a good look at hers. She did take a whack at his peachy bottom when he leaned over to turn the shower on, and he squeaked, putting his hand over it palm outward, “Aish, that hurt!” Y/N went for him again, a little harder on the other cheek until he straightened out and pivoted, looking at her with furrowed brows, “I’ll spank your bum, see how you like it.”

(Y/N reckons she would like it.)

The shower had been good; it was hot, steamy, and they hadn’t even done anything sexual. They just enjoyed one another, soaked in the hot pelts of water against their skin as they both took turns with who was in the direct line of the water. Harry cleaned her, sudsed her up with strawberry-scented soap, and made her all bubbly before nudging her back into the water. He sang obnoxiously loud, ticked her when he could, and he did get her back with a few swats on her wet bum, leaving a resounding smack that bounced off the walls in an echo. She had fun, and when he bent down to slide their lips together for an innocent little peck, she was over the moon.

It was just good to be with him, and she was happy that her feelings were finally able to be expressed. And he had almost immediately quelled her worries when she thought that maybe this was just a Sweden thing -- maybe they would go home, Harry would not feel the need to be around her constantly since the initial threat had been dealt with and he could go on about his normal life. When she really thought about it, she was sort of just a wrench in his normal plans -- an unnecessary addition and disruption, having accidentally gotten involved in their whole scenario.

But almost as soon as they landed, an hour or two after they had all parted ways to unpack and destress, Harry rang her phone and when she answered she got a, “I don’t think m’quite ready to not be around you 24/7 -- can I come over?”

With a grin that threatened to split her cheeks, she told him to hurry up.

While things were calm now, Y/N still strayed from going out too late at night or lollygagging when she went on her walks with Ubbe. She’s cautious still, of course, but it doesn’t feel like she has to keep looking over her shoulder. They were still taking care of some things, tying off the problem with a nice, neat little bow, and figuring out the semantics of what Elias had left behind with the people he’d hired. From what she understood they were paying them off with a suitable amount to make sure whatever they had discovered or heard wouldn’t be discussed, along with the looming threat that they had actually kidnapped her, and they shouldn’t be a problem any longer. Especially given the fact that they had no emotional ties to the whole situation.

There were still a few questions she might have and confusion on some parts of what happened, but Harry opens up and explains it to her if she asks him anything.

And now she was outside his flat, after climbing seven flights of steps with an ecstatic Ubbe who was beside himself with the new smells. It was a nice area -- a rich one, at that -- the kind of place that she would press her nose up against the window glass as they pass, before looking it up later and realizing that it’s a month’s salary for rent alone. The outer exterior was all sleek and white, about a thousand windows that decorated the building and peered into the lives of the residents. There were balconies as well, each flat had one and from where she could see when they were driving around it toward the parking garage, they were evenly spaced far apart from each other. Which she reasoned that they would be decently large on the inside.

They could have taken the elevator but Y/N felt too guilty to drag Ubbe in when there was an older woman and her friends stepping in, so they took the stairs. When Y/N had suggested it she hadn’t known he was on the seventh fucking floor, but she trudged up and huffed every time he giggled and teased her, even though he huffed and puffed himself.

He was quick with his keys, the slide of the teeth into the lock was smooth and clicked in a fluid motion that she envied (she had to jiggle and jangle her own), but he paused before he twisted the knob, and turned toward her, “Listen -- this is. . .new for me. I don’t invite people over ever . . .not even like hookups or anything, so other than the movers and the occasional Mitch -- nobody else has been here. This is my own little safe space, y’know, I try not to sully it with all the shite I’m in but you -- I just can’t get the thought of you in here out of my head. Needed to see it for myself.”

Her heart was full upon entry, which she hadn’t known if that was his intent or if he just needed her to know beforehand that he wasn’t used to having other people in his flat and he might be a little squirrely. Either or, she leaned forward and nudged her forehead against his shoulder (her hands were full with a wriggling Ubbe so at the time it had been her only option to show affection). She was still a little nervous about initiating the kisses -- Harry was typically the one to initiate it and Y/N melts into them.

Harry opened his door and Y/N was almost immediately greeted with the beloved Racoon dog statue. He told her to go ahead and let Ubbe run amuck (he was her good boy though, he wouldn’t climb any couches or beds without explicitly being told he was allowed to) as she was looking around the small foyer-like entrance. Right away she could tell that Harry had somewhat of an eye for interior design -- everything was cohesive in color and sense of style, he easily put her flat to shame. The sofa was facing away from the door and loveseat was caddy corner to it, both large, and a light grey that looked incredibly pricey but lived on -- there were blankets rumpled atop of it like he might have napped there, the pillows only kind of positioned correctly on the couch. They sat on a rug that is a lighter grey in tone, atop of smooth pine flooring. Behind the sofa, there was a dark console table that stretched along the length of it with a modern square lamp on either end. To the left at the end of the couch, he had an electric fireplace installed into a wall of what appeared to be marble, and above it his tv was fixed to the wall, far bigger than what she was used to. His coffee table looked like it was made of black glass, magazines and books were halfheartedly thrown in the middle.

But what really takes her, that she’s trying to drink in entirely, is the wall of windows that is opposite of where she stood. It was clearly the way to the balcony that looked far larger than it did from the car, the panes of glass were so clear that she would probably slam right into them. They only stopped when it reached the kitchen, because of its open concept she could see it from where she stood and it was all sleek, marble counters and black appliances that all looked incredibly new. There was an island counter with bar stools that she reckons he eats at. On the opposite end of the flat, there was a hallway that she believes led to what she presumes was the rooms and bathrooms.

“Holy fuck.” That’s where she was now, her brows raised as she turned to face him, “We’ve been at my crowded, old, rickety flat when you’ve had this just laying around?”

His brows furrow deeply, “Oi, I love your flat. It’s cozy and comfortable, don’t you dare talk about her like that.”

Y/N is too enamored with what she’s seeing to pay much mind to his words. She’s looking around with her face permanently stuck with her lips in an ‘o’ as she looks up and around, taking in the artwork that he had chosen, how it smelled like him, the way it appeared well lived in yet still pristine and polished, “If I lived here, I reckon I wouldn’t leave,” she continues, reaching out, letting her fingertips stroke against the couch wondering how the material could just feel expensive, “I’d be one of those nurses that answers panicked calls from parents at like 3AM ‘cos their kid sneezed.”

A snort leaves him, but he shakes his head all the same, “S’not that great. Gets a bit lonely.” Her face is pressed against the cool glass of the windows, looking out on the dazzling lights that twinkle from the city below them, but his words and the sad inflection in his voice drags her from it. She turns to face him, where he’s setting his things down on his coffee table before sliding up beside her, “It looks much better with you stalking around it though.”

She laughs, leaning her head against his shoulder, “I’ll come stalk about whenever you want then.”

Harry maneuvers them, kisses his teeth to garner her attention before stealing her lips in a kiss when she turns to face him. Her nose scrunches up and she giggles -- he’d let his facial hair grow out some, and it tickled her face when he pressed their mouths together. She sinks into it though as she always does, and Harry can only kiss her for a few moments before he begins to smile against her, and withdraws, “Christ,” he pecks another kiss against her mouth, “Alright, I’ll show you how to operate my shower, and I’ll have some clothes out for you to change into. Will you teach me how I should wash your scrubs?”

His bathroom is just as modern and seemingly hi-tech as the rest of his flat. He surpasses the one in the hall in favor of taking her to his own through the master bedroom, which has a Hilma af Klint painting (he and Mitch have similar tastes), a bed the size of a room that she’d grown up in (it felt like at the very least) that was made, with a black comforter and about thirty thousand pillows. The headboard was large, rectangular, and a dark stained wood that his other furniture matched. Across from his bed, there is another TV affixed to the wall, with a screen saver of a night sky during a thunderstorm. It smells like lavender and Harry -- she’s comforted by it.

There’s a sleek, black tub, an entirely separate shower that came straight from the ceiling, his sink counter is large -- like, several people could keep their morning and nightly skincare routines on there. He shows her how to use the shower (there was a fucking touch screen on the wall that she used to decide the settings), makes a cheeky joke about watching her undress before he left her be to shower.

It was unlike any showering experience she’d ever had before. He showed her the rainfall setting, gave her a spare loofah to scrub with and he let her use the rose-scented body soap he had a huge container full of. She scrubbed her skin raw, washed away every bit of the day. Harry had told her there was a surprise about the towel when she was finished, which she was soon to find that he had a heated rack. The towel is warm, big, and soft as she wraps it around her body, and she finds that he had left her some clothes to change into. It was a grey soft, worn Harley Davidson shirt and sweatpants. Y/N wriggled them on and left the bathroom. Harry told her he would be in the living room, so she ventured out from his bathroom, but she pauses when her eyes flicker across his dresser.

Set on his drawer chest, there was a photo frame that made her heart swell.

Y/N very vaguely remembers taking it -- the night of the bonfire, when she was scared to be alone and that man who’d been following her turned up at the park when she was there. Harry had come to get her, made her feel safe and soft. It was the first night she had met everyone, hung out with them, drank with them until she got sleepy, and managed to slump into Harry’s body. She remembers being lulled to sleep by the steady drum of his heart, how nice it sounded, how warm she felt, and she remembered how he accommodated her body with his arm around her while he let her rest. All of that she remembers quite vividly, however, the picture that was taken is what she has to dig through her thoughts to be reminded of. It was right after Harry had woken her up, called her snoozy, and patted her bum before letting her lean against him so they could walk to the car. Just before they had started their venture to the car, she remembers Mickey stopping them, having been trigger happy with a camera the entire night.

“Big smiles! This one’s for the books.”

Y/N’s eyes shut and she smiled sleepily, her fingers thrown in a peace sign and Harry grinned wide, a dimple dotting his cheek. The ember glow of the fire outlines them in an orange-ish tint as the flash illuminates them in the night, and Y/N wonders what possessed either of them to wear ripped jeans when she was almost certain that night it was below freezing.

“Tha’s my favorite photo,” Harry’s voice rings from behind her and she nearly startled out of her skin, turning her head to look at him, the frame in hand, “Mickey gave it to me like a month or two after he had developed it, I thought we were right cute.”

“We are,” she thumbs the wooden frame, the ridges dabbing into her skin, “This is the night you first stayed at my flat.”

“After you practically tore me a new one for suggesting otherwise,” his chin hooks on her shoulder, nose dipping into the curve of her throat, “You look nice in my clothes.”

“Reckon?” She leans back, melting into his touch, “They’re very soft, kinda feels like cuddling with you. Guess if I have your shirts I don’t have to bother with the body and your freezing toes.”

“Oi,” he grumbles, sliding his arms around her waist, “Be nice, Pet, or I’ll take ‘em right back. Besides, clothes can’t pet on you, or feed Ubbe, or even turn on the godforsaken vampire film or cook dinner.”

A gasp leaves her as she spun in his arms, “You put on Twilight?”

“Of course I did, you wouldn’t shut up about it before, which had me wondering if I remembered it correctly. Figure after you we eat and you tell me about all the gross shite you had to deal with today, we could watch it.”

It was true -- on the way to his flat, she had not so subtly mentioned that it felt like she was being invited into a vampire’s home before delving into a scene by scene explanation of the better half of Twilight. Harry had openly admitted to not really liking the film but he let’s her rant and rave anyway, even offered his commentary on what he did remember from it. Y/N thinks it’s the first time anyone other than her mother let her express the teenage nostalgia that still resonated with her and the movies as a whole.

And for him to put it on for them to watch? In his beautiful flat that smelled like him? Where she would be fed, be able to chat about her day with someone other than Ubbe, feel warm and happy? She couldn’t think of a better way to spend her time.

“As long as we can cuddle, I think this might be the perfect night.” She tells him and he rolls his eyes playfully, teasing her with a squeeze at her ticklish sides.

“Of course, we’re going to cuddle. You think I spent the last four months pining after you, just for us not to cuddle?”

Y/N lets her eyes flutter shut, leans into him, and smiles.

#WOOOOOO #YAHTZEE :D #THIS IS THE END OF LIKE HALF A YEAR'S WORTH OF WRITING #ITS BITTERSWEET #I LOVE THESE TWO #WRITING #BLURB #HOPE YOU LIKE IT :)

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percival-c-mcleach · 3 years ago

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Haunted Not By Ghosts- a McLeach fic.

The atmosphere was as heavy and thick as smog, stuck in time. The house, the barn and the ramshackle sheds were worn down from years of neglect, the barn having been particularly hard hit by time, half of its body rotted and given way to mushrooms.

The house's exterior had once been blue, now stripped almost completely to its wood and brick, with speckles of paint the only indication of what it might had been. The windows were cracked, rusted with dust. Weeds had forced themselves up between the boards of the porch, nearly obscuring the wood. Hidden among the vegetation was a dog bowl, a bright firetruck red that had now faded to a dull pink in the blistering sun, the faintest of childish block writing had faded too much to be read.

Taking a shaky breath, McLeach surveyed his childhood home. For forty years, it had laid abandoned, but it felt just as forboding now as it did back then, if not worse. Anxiety roiled in the man's stomach as he forced himself up the sunken steps, feeling the wood groan beneath him.

Joanna followed her master's footsteps almost exactly, not trusting the structural integrity of the building. She watched as McLeach hesitated with the doorknob, as if it would suddenly come to life and bite him. He gave a gentle twist of the knob- no luck.

"Aw hell.." McLeach huffed, twisting the knob harder. He jiggled the door, but the ancient wood refused to give. He crouched to examine the old doggie door-one he used as his personal entrance to the house-but he was now too old and too round for such an endeavor. Joanna looked between him and the door, noticing his pointed look. She shook her head hurriedly-no way would she be able to fit through there, and she was not looking to get splinters in her sides. Letting loose a curse, McLeach kicked the door-and it popped open nearly effortlessly. Quickly shaking off his surprise, he shouldered the heavy oak the rest of the way open, coughing as a wave of musty air washed over them both.

Once natural sunlight fell over the place, McLeach felt his breath catch in his throat- sans a thick coating of dust, the hallway looked almost exactly as he remembered it being. It was as if the other three McLeaches hadn't left the house; most of the decor still hung in place, with the addition of cobwebs. The coat rack still held his father's old bag, four pairs of slippers lined up beneath the side table, waiting for owners who would never return.

The house felt haunted. Not in the way most people came to think of haunted houses, brimming with ghosts; haunted in the sense that you could feel everything that had happened in this place. The anxiety only grew stronger, the further the pair ventured in. The carpet had faded from direct sunlight, but the patches in the shade of the furniture still remained its dark green color. Dust rose in clouds as man and lizard ventured carefully down the hall, with Joanna trying her best to hold in her coughing.

The family portrait was still there, hanging above a boarded-up fireplace. McLeach didn't blame anyone for leaving it, it wasn't something you'd want to have in your house. The sepia-colored photograph was dust-covered, but the man could still feel the cold, hard glare of his father through it. He raised his hand to wipe away the dust. The first to emerge was his mother. Thin-faced and tired, with her dark hair pulled up in an untidy bun. In one arm she cradled the newly-born Casey in his thick wool blanket, the other dangled down, gently squeezing the hand of a seven-year-old Percival. He had been small back then, missing two of his front teeth and a head full of hair like his mother's, dark and messy. Rubbing away the rest of the dust, Mr. McLeach soon followed. Towering over his wife and children, not even the shadow from the brim of his hat could have hid the starkness of his unnaturally light eyes. His large hand had a rough grip on Percival's shoulder then, the man grimaced at the memory. He couldn't bring himself to look longer at his father than was necessary. Even in photographs, he seemed to be glaring directly at his eldest.

Feeling claws on his leg, McLeach glanced down to see Joanna attempting to raise herself higher, she wanted a view too. He scooped her up as one would a toddler, though with some difficulty given her hefty weight. "Ay, you know who that is?" McLeach smiled, pointing to his mother. Joanna tilted her head quizzically- the human woman looked very distinctively familiar, even though she knew they had never met. "That's your namesake," McLeach continued, "My mama, Joanna. I promised that I'd name my firstborn daughter after her...and well, you count, I guess." Joanna wasn't able to understand just how important that was, but she felt it was very, very important. She waggled her tail happily, inching her snout closer to the frame. She clearly recognized the young Percival, and let out a rasp that sounded much like a wheezing laugh. "Go ahead, you looked weird when you were a kid too." McLeach rolled his eyes. His arms had started to ache, and he set her back down. He continued down the hall, and froze for a brief moment when he came to the wall opposite the sitting room's entrance. Beneath a framed picture of Casey with his model airplane, a round hole was at shoulder-height, the impact having shredded and burnt the faded yellow wallpaper. "..Damn idiot didn't bother to get it fixed after I left, eh?" He scoffed, "You see this, Joanna? You can tell I didn't get my marksmanship from Pops. He couldn't hit the broad-side of a barn." A slightly alarmed chirrup arose from Joanna's throat as she realized what that hole was, but McLeach didn't seem bothered by it. He breezed past the bullet-hole and past the sitting room, after taking a quick glance inside and finding that the armchair and couch were overrun with a brackish mold.

The kitchen was small, and had once been cozy. The kitchen window had broken, and one of his mother's prized climbing rosebushes had wormed its way in, leaving a layer of generations of rotting petals over the linoleum. Nevertheless, the rosebush itself was thriving, its creamy white petals shining in the golden sunlight. Reaching out to touch, McLeach couldn't help but to pluck one of the roses off, holding it in his palm. He had forgotten how silky-soft the petals felt, and how sweet it smelled; he closed his eyes and inhaled, feeling a sharp pang in his middle. A sharp pang of an emotion he couldn't quite describe. It was happiness and sadness rolled into one, and it left an ache. The smell reminded him of sitting outside with his mother, tending to the rosebushes together; if a blossom had just fallen, his mother would pluck apart the petals and keep them in a jar, preserved in the icebox until she got around to making soap and hand-cream. McLeach opened his eyes. The strange emotion only grew. He dropped the rose onto the floor, to join the rest of the fallen flowers.

Joanna had gotten braver, and went ahead of the poacher. She still felt intimidated by the house; she seen that her owner was as well. It was odd, to see him so on edge in a place that was so familiar to him. Maybe if she showed she was brave, he'd feel better. Crawling up a set of stairs, she gazed down the dim hallway. Four doors, only one of them was left ajar. Curiosity got the better of her, and the goanna went to take a peek.

The bedroom looked as if its occupant had left in a hurry. She could still see old toys and picture books on the shelves, a small, rickety wooden bed with moth-eaten blankets neatly made, with a shapeless lump that at one point had been a teddy bear sitting atop the covers. The walls were wallpapered, though it was difficult to tell what color they had been, for it was now all a dull grey. The posters on the walls were faded yellow, with vague shapes of rubberhose cartoon characters etched onto them.

Hearing McLeach wheeze his way to the top of the stairs, Joanna looked over her shoulder, and sat outside the door until McLeach could join her. He leant in the doorway of his old bedroom, soaking in the scene. After what seemed like minutes, he finally walked into the room, slow and quiet.

The thing of interest for McLeach were the picture albums on one of his shelves. The ones left exposed to the sun were faded-but maybe these were saved. He grabbed on and flipped it open, feeling a large lump rise in his throat when he seen that they were untouched. Smelled a little mildewy, but were still visible. He choked down the lump, flipping through each page slowly, wanting to savor every picture. His baby brother in his bassinet, wearing a goofy-looking baby bonnet. Flip. Their old dog, Blueberry, sleeping on the rug in the sitting room, a chewbone lolling out of his mouth. Flip. A photo of his parents on their wedding day, both looking much younger and happier than he had ever remembered them seeing; Mr. McLeach had looked kinder then, gazing at his bride with all the love and adoration that a husband was supposed to have for his life partner. Flip. His childhood friend, Ruby, sitting with the nine-year-old Percy on the river's rocks, holding baby ducklings. Flip. Flip. Flip.

These were happy memories; why did his heart ache so much looking at them? He shouldn't feel like this, looking back on what were the happier years of his life. Flip. Flip.

Percival's heart sank to the bottom of his stomach.

Of course there had to be pictures of Mr. Wells in here; back then, the McLeaches considered him as good as family. A tall, scrawny, unassuming man with shoulder-length brown hair, who had kindly and selflessly looked after Joanna and the boys while Mr. McLeach was away in the army- a second father figure, the reliant one, one who wouldn't yell and scream at the smallest of slights. After spending the summer with Mr. Wells as a boy, Percival wished he had stayed home. At least his father didn't play mind games with him, and when he hurt him, it was out of rage, and not premeditated. Not passed off as accidents that were all Percival's own fault. Not passed off as something he deserved, for something he couldn't even recall doing. The picture seemed so innocent. Just a kindly man with the boy he called his honorary son, on the back of a old mule at the fair. Percival knew better; he knew that under his child self's sweater was a nasty deep bruise, a bruise that hurt for weeks. Mr. Wells had claimed it had been an accident, that he hadn't meant to swing the shovel so hard into him. It was Percival's fault, for sneaking up on him like that.

'You'll be hurting for a while, Percy..' He could still hear that soft voice, too soft to note any real remorse, 'You frightened me something awful...I guess we learned our lesson on sneaking up on people, didn't we?'

We. As if it was a lesson they both learnt. As if it wasn't just one of the many thinly-veiled excuses used to hurt him. As if he didn't do worse, as if he did not permanently scar him physically and mentally. As if he didn't one day stop giving his excuses, once Percival had gotten too old to fall for them. As if it was the both of them having a knife held to the soft skin of their throat. As if it were the both of them who had to endure a full day and night in the skinning shed, surrounded by the dead, staring eyes of hogs. As if it were the both of them who had to endure nightmares, long after the torment had stopped.

It had always been 'We'. Never a 'I'm sorry.' It was always 'You.'

He had been brave only once. Brave enough to go to his father for help. How foolish of Percival to believe that his father would have stood up for his son. He never did such a thing before. The entire ordeal had been Percival's fault-his fault for being too stubborn, too much of a brat. If he had behaved better, Wells wouldn't have resorted to harsher punishments-it had been his fault he was treated so poorly.

For once, Percival stood up for himself.

Mrs. McLeach had tried to deescalate the fight. Mr. McLeach found himself with a broken nose, as Percival helped Joanna off the floor and out of the room. He only heard the safety click off before he had dove down the hall, sprinting from the door and into the night. "DON'T YOU EVER COME HOME!" For forty years he stayed away.

The strangled scream had terrified Joanna spitless. The goanna had been nosing around underneath McLeach's old bed, when her master emitted a sound so animalistic, that for a moment she feared that a big-cat had been hiding somewhere in the room. She immediately balled herself against the corner as the photo album was flung into the desk hard enough to shatter the frail wooden handle. The lump was back in McLeach's throat again, tighter and more painful than before, forcing tears to swell and blur his vision. His breathing came in ragged gasps, trying to keep the deep pain in his middle from winning. He crouched where he had stood, clenching his hands so tight that he felt as though they may break. He shouldn't be getting upset over this. He shouldn't be getting this upset over a goddamn picture.

It had been forty years. Why does it still hurt so bad? Why does it still feel so fresh?

The sudden warm weight crawling onto his lap tore him back into the present. Joanna scrambled as far up on him as she could. Percival hugged her as tight as he could, until his heart rate slowed back to normal, until he could breathe without choking. "Thanks." His voice was barely more than a croak. He took his bandana to dry his eyes with, "I'm sorry..I just.." he couldn't explain what had happened. Joanna understood though. She gently headbutted his shoulder, before slithering off of him and towards the photo album, picking it up in her jaws. McLeach took it from her, holding it in his lap. He'd tear out the pictures he wanted to keep, and leave the rest to rot in this forsaken house. The sun had just started to set as they made their way back to the truck, parked in the barren field next to the rotting barn. McLeach didn't even bother to give the house one last look before they drove off. Maybe now hadn't been the right time to come back. Maybe there never would be a 'right time.' Eventually, something had to be done about the place. Maybe he'd torch that haunted house to the ground. A house haunted, not by ghosts.

#Disney #disney villains #percival mcleach #the rescuers down under #fanfic

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anonymouslyangsty · 3 years ago

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Been seeing a lot of taka lives au which is *chefs kiss* but it really does make me wonder just how difficult taka's physical and mental healing process would be if he survived the hit.

Chefs make out session more like it

But that's a really good question. Like, this boy has a horrible time. He makes his first friend in a death game, only to have said friend brutally murdered in front of him. Then he gets depressed, has a total mental breakdown that ends with him adopting his dead friend's personality, then gets bludgeoned half to death.

Yeah, Kiyotaka is going through it.

And yes, he's the Ultimate Moral Compass. But at that point, you really have to question if his upbeat, kind personality can endure. We already saw him break under the weight of the loss of Mondo, and I don't think he'll ever fully recover from that break.

I don't think he'd snap and break his morals, but I can't see him going back to his normal cheerful demeanor either.

Maybe he'd give up his title of Moral Compass. He failed to keep the students alive, he failed to save Mondo, he lost control and threatened another student, then he broke the rules to try to find an exit. After all that, does he really deserve his Ultimate? He's done nothing but fail the people around him.

Not to mention that Mondo's death in itself shattered his entire worldview. Because how could Mondo, a man he looked up to so much, be a killer? Taka has a very black and white view of the world, and Chihiro's murder utterly shatters that. I don't think he'd be able to pick up the pieces easily.

And honestly? I could see this segwaying into him actually making friends that aren't Mondo. Because to be honest, it's clear that Mondo was his only friend there. Makoto and Hiro were also pretty nice to him, but besides that, he’s kinda disliked or tolerated at best.He's not very popular, and a part of that is because he's so strict.

But if he gives up on his title? Then he doesn't need to be as perfect. He doesn't need to carry the burden of taking care of everyone. And sure, he'll frame it as "I'm not worthy of such a role" rather than "I shouldn't carry the weight of every life here", but the end result of him taking on way less responsibility is there.

Without that strong need to take care of everyone, Taka would feel less obligated to lecture everyone. Plus, he can be less strict with both his classmates and himself. Because let's be honest. Taka deserves a nap and a hobby that isn't studying or working out.

(Dang, now I wish Hifumi was still alive in this situation: I want him to try to show Taka some anime)

Slightly off topic here, but I don't think the title of Ultimate Moral Compass is doing Taka any favors. Yes, morals are important. Yes, working hard is vital. However, Taka is so extreme that he denies himself the ability to relax and also seriously hinders his ability to socialize.

Without the burden of that ultimate, Kiyotaka would have a much richer life. Which is ironic in a way. Kiyotaka thinks that one cannot succeed without hard work, which is true. But can one thrive without a life outside of work? No. And it's only through giving up, something Taka would normally never do, that he can start really bonding with the other students.

Also, if Kiyotaka gives up his Ultimate, then he can be mean to Togami. He doesn't need to take the highroad anymore. Taka gets to punch the hell out of Togami because his bro never got to.

This can all lead to a new Kiyotaka by the end of the game. One that is still trying to help everyone, but is far more open to different points of view. One who is more flexible, and thus more resilient. One who doesn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Because no, he is not fit to lead them. He's already failed them time and time again. But that doesn't mean he has to give up either. Mondo wouldn't want him to.

So I mainly talked about character evolution, but there's still the physical to consider. He got freaking bludgeoned over the head. And yeah, I hear that head wounds bleed a lot even if they aren't bad, so it may look worse than it is. But still. He's not walking away from that without a concussion.

And I love the idea of that being an excuse for him and Sakura to hang out more. Because of all the group, she and Hina probably have the most experience with injuries, so it'd make sense for those two to take care of while he's healing.

I feel like that situation has so much room for character development! Because let's be honest here, it would've been so cool if Hina and Sakura actually tried helping Taka after Mondo's death. It seems in character for them, because both are very kind people. So this gives the chance to make this happen.

Plus I just think those 3 would have a great dynamic. Both Taka and Hina are loud, expressive, and passionate. With Kiyotaka abandoning his ultimate, he'd have no reason to refuse Hina's indulgent attempts to cheer him up. They can eat doughnuts together <3

Sakura and Taka are both strict, determined, and moral. So I think they could both get along really well! Let them drink tea together, and Sakura can give him some wisdom. She can help him realize that good people can make bad decisions, and that bad decision doesn't immediately make them evil. Good advice given Mondo's death, plus foreshadowing.

Also! I love how this could lead into Sakura's death! Sakura being the traitor would once again fit into that whole "oh no my friend who I see as morally good did something horrible" thing. But now, without the weight of his talent and a more flexible worldview, Kiyotaka can withstand that type of blow.

I can see him and Hina being the ones to vouch for Sakura, to look for solutions rather than attacking her. And when Sakura does die, and Hina has her breakdown, Kiyotaka can be there for her. He knows all too well what it's like to lose a friend to the death game.

Just...let Taka and Hina be friends. Let them be part of the "I made a buff friend in the death game but they became a blackened and died. Also fuck Togami" club together.

So basically: Taka gets a more healthy level of depressed (not comatose) and abandons his talent. That lets him explore more things about life, even if they aren’t related to school. He makes friends with Hina and Sakura, who help him with balancing work and fun (Hina), and having a more flexible view on morality (Sakura).

Then Sakura dies, and Kiyotaka is better equipped to be a comfort to Hina.

#Taka says 'i'm not perfect' and gets character develpment #kiyotaka ishimaru #aoi asahina #sakura ogami #danganronpa #an ask tag

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charliesradiodemon · 4 years ago

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Sick Day (For artemisnightingale216)

Hello my friends! I’m here today with my raffle winner, @artemisnightingale216‘s fic! The prompt I was given by my lovely winner was to write about Alastor getting sick and Charlie takes care of him whereas shenanigans ensue hehe.

I hope you enjoy the fic artemis! This one was truly very very fun to write!

Fun fact: You don’t catch a cold from being wet and cold. The lowering of your body temperature from being wet and cold allows whatever virus you might've picked up a chance to thrive! Normally your body fights off viruses and germs you pick up every day before you even feel the effects of it. But when you do get sick with a cold, your body develops a fever to try to kill the virus in your body because they don’t do well at higher temperatures! It also happens that we also don’t do well at higher temperatures and that’s why we take fever suppressants when we have a fever! So we don’t die!

What was a bit of rain anyway?

Alastor had strolled through much heavier storms where he’d trudged his way through the mud and wind. He’d withstood hurricanes and floodwaters and braved the harsh elements on the way to work. A little drizzle wouldn’t hurt.

In fact he’d often reveled in the cool relief the rain gave him. Hell was often hot and dry- nothing like the muggy heat of New Orleans. When it rained it gave him a sliver of what he thought he’d never miss.

He hummed through the light drizzle, sticking his head up high to let the light drizzle tickle his skin and breathe in the smell of fresh rain on the dry pavement.

The moment of peace and reminiscing got cut short the moment he got onto the hotel’s property. What was a drizzle suddenly became a downpour, instantly soaking him where he wasn’t moist yet.

And still he did nothing about it. He was already wet, it was far too late to rush for cover and preserve any hint of dryness. With a shrug he continued to casually walk up the paved path and up to the door, completely unbothered by the ruthless downpour.

He walked through the door to find Niffty and Charlie at the bar, chatting up Husk.

As soon as they heard him walk in with a squelch in his step, they snapped their head to the door. To his surprise, he heard two women gasp once they got a glimpse of the soaked man.

Charlie was first to rush up. “Al, you’re soaking wet!”

The smaller demon followed behind only after zipping out to grab a mop. “And dripping all over the floor!” Screeched Niffty who’d already popped up behind Alastor, mop in hand. She set it aside and opened her arms behind him. Alastor moved to unbutton his coat and shrugged it off his shoulders into the waiting girl’s arms with a wet slop.

The one-eyed demon made a sound of disgust. “You could’ve at least wrung this out first!” She dashed out the door Alastor had just come through, muffled ranting still audible behind the wood and glass.

Alastor chuckled and shook his head. “The little darling works hard doesn’t she?” He looked back to Charlie. “Just got caught up in a bit of rain. Nothing I haven’t braved through before!”

Charlie crossed her arms and shot him a worried look. “Al, you gotta get dry right now! You’re gonna catch a cold!”

Alastor waved his hand as he walked by her, each step leaving a careless trail of raindrops behind him. “Ah don’t worry about me, I’ve been through much worse dear. Have you ever tried dragging a body through a hurricane? Well it sure helps wash the blood away, but it certainly isn’t a walk in the park!” He laughed heartily and continued through the lobby. He nodded to Husk in greeting, who didn’t react nor move at the greeting.

Charlie followed behind, careful not to slip in the little puddles. “It’s still pouring out there and you’re still wet!”

He shrugged in response and stepped into the waiting elevator without a second thought. “Do apologize to Niffty for me, will you?”

“Please just shower or something at least?” Charlie called to him.

He chuckled lowly, amused yet touched by her silly concern. “For you? I’ll consider it.”

The doors closed and whirred harshly as it pulled itself upward.

Alastor got dry as Charlie had asked. With a snap of his fingers, the dripping immediately halted and any trace of moisture was off of him. He could have done it before walking in, sure, but he enjoyed keeping Niffty on her toes.

Charlie’s concern hung onto him. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had any genuine concern for his well being. All of Hell knew he didn’t need it. But it certainly was a nice change and made him feel a warmth he couldn’t explain.

Charlie was always warm. Everything about her was warm and it often made him giddy. Her doting nature was naively adorable and Alastor found it to be one of her most charming qualities. She truly was a breath of fresh air.

For her concern, he felt the need to do something for her in return. It felt natural to and oddly enough he always felt the need to do things for her even with nothing in return. It was certainly unlike him and while he’d been trying to understand his odd feelings and behavior, he didn’t mind it.

‘I should whip up breakfast for her tomorrow for her trouble.’

Alastor cringed as the elevator dinged sickly and opened the doors with an equally sickly scraping noise.

‘Maybe I should fix the elevator for her instead.’

Once he stepped out of the elevator, he swiftly turned and snapped his fingers. The old piece of machinery rumbled and creaked for a few moments until shadows began leaking out from the cracks of the elevator’s doors.

Satisfied, he turn to walk to his room and wonder how elated Charlie was going to be once she found out the elevator was finally fixed after all these months.

Until a chill ran down his spine, sending a cascade of shivers.

But he thought nothing of it once he recovered. He was just out in the rain, it was natural that he’d feel a bit of a chill.

———

Charlie stared out the window as she sat in the kitchen alone. It had poured only the night before yet there seemed to be no trace of moisture anywhere. Just as there seemed to be no trace of activity in the hotel.

Though it was typical for the arid environment and heat of Hell to dry the pavement after the rain, it wasn’t quite a typical morning at the hotel.

Not that it was bustling to begin with, but it was too quiet that morning. Angel had already left for the day, Vaggie was out grocery shopping, Niffty busied herself with daily chores and Husk was still passed out behind the bar. And while that was fairly normal, someone else was missing.

Alastor still hadn’t made an appearance. Usually he’d already be in the kitchen whipping up breakfast for himself, or anyone around when he was in the mood to do so. He would join Charlie and whoever else was around for breakfast every day, and yet he still wasn’t in the kitchen yet.

Charlie went up to his room once she finished breakfast, noting how suddenly silent the elevator was. Where once she feared for her life on it, it functioned without a hitch.

Turning her attention back to Alastor, she walked up to his door. She knew she should probably leave him alone, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong especially after how he showed up soaking wet the night before.

She gently knocked on the door. “Al? You there?”

There were a few moments of silence. Nothing.

“Al?” She called once more, only slightly louder this time.

The door swung open, showing a fully dressed Alastor. “Can I help you, sweetheart?”

Charlie immediately noticed how his under eyes were darker than usual. “Are you okay? You weren’t at breakfast and-“

She paused when she watched Alastor's increasingly red face twitch. His expression tensed, smile seemingly more toothy and hard set than usual. “Al?” Charlie asked, concern increasing by the second.

After a moment, Alastor relaxed and nodded. “I’m just fine! Fit as a fiddle! Just running a bit late! Now if you’ll excuse me.” He slammed the door in her face, leaving her stunned.

Not even a second later, she heard a sneeze.

‘I knew it!’

Fueled by her need to help whilst swallowing her inhibitions, Charlie opened the unlocked door and poked her head in. “Al, you’re sick aren’t you?” She asked, shooting him a concerned look.

“What makes you say that?” He asked before turning his head and sneezing into a handkerchief.

“The sneezing, the red face and the bags under your eyes maybe? I bet you have a fever too.” She walked in fully and closed the door behind her. Cautiously, she approached him.

Alastor sneezed once more into his handkerchief. “Quite the little detective aren’t you?”

She chuckled. “The best of the best! Now-“ she approached until she was right in front of him. “lemme check your forehead.”

Alastor huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Yes mother,” He bent over slightly to make her task easier. “Though I don’t believe this is necessary.” His eyes fluttered closed the moment he felt the significantly cooler touch of her hand rest on his forehead and took a breath of relief.

“Not necessary? Al, you’re burning up!” To his displeasure she removed her hand and hastily got back to the door. “Get back in bed, I’m going to get some stuff to help. I’ll be right back!” She rushed out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Alastor standing in the middle of his room.

Charlie’s heart raced as she made her way back down to the kitchen. She placed her hands on her cheeks to try to cool her burning face. ‘He was so close... and I touched him!’ She exclaimed in her head. ‘I actually touched him and he let me.’ she gasped, staring down at her hand as if she’d kept the touch as a souvenir.

Once the elevator dinged, she shook her head violently and briskly walked her thoughts off on her way to the kitchens. She needed to take care of him, not linger on her silly crush. He needed her this time and she needed to get her head on straight. “Okay, stop that Charlie! Focus!”

It didn’t take her too long to get Razzle and Dazzle to make a simple broth for Alastor. As much as she would have loved to make it herself, she knew she would find a way to burn the water if she tried to.

On the tray she carried she had a bowl of soup, a glass of orange juice and fever suppressant. Now that she was outside his door again, her stomach was in knots. Once more she shook her head and took a deep breath.

‘Focus Charlie!’

With one hand balancing the tray, she struggled to knock on the door. “Al, I’m back!” She called.

The door opened on its own for her; no doubt Alastor using his powers when he shouldn't be. Taking the gesture as an invitation, Charlie walked in and smiled as she found Alastor under the covers of his bed. “I’m glad you got back in bed. I got you some stuff to help.”

She approached the bed and set the tray on his bedside. “Can you eat on your own?” She asked as he wordlessly sat up.

Still red in the face, he shot her a mischievous look that sent her heart flying. “I could, but I’d much prefer if you fed me yourself my dear.” He teased, only half- joking.

Charlie felt her cheeks flare up again. “I j-just remembered I needed to do something! Make sure you take the medicine!” She stammered as she stepped away and got to the door. “I’ll be back to get your tray!”

Before he could reply, Charlie slammed the door and quickly walked off once more, desperately hoping that Alastor couldn’t hear her heart beating out of her chest.

“The fever’s talking. That’s it,” she took deep breaths as she stared down the hallway, walking quickly yet firmly. “Okay. I’ve got work to do. Gotta get back to work and don’t think about it!”

——-

When Charlie did return later that day, she found Alastor peacefully asleep. He didn’t respond when she knocked nor when she entered and approached him.

‘He’s still smiling.’ she mused, cracking a small smile. She watched his face, noticing the droplets of sweat on his forehead.

Carefully she hovered her hand over his forehead, feeling even more heat radiate off of him. ‘His fever hasn’t gone down yet!’

She pulled her hand away, only to be grasped by a quick hand.

“Hmm... Charlie my love, I’ve been waiting for you...” Alastor said, without opening his eyes. “You feel so cold... Let me warm you up darling...” he said breathily as he pressed the back of her hand against his sweaty cheek.

Charlie felt her heart pound as if it were trying to free itself out of her chest. As many times as this had happened today, her heart could have given away by now. “A-Al, go back to sleep. You’re saying some crazy stuff.” She chuckled nervously, trying to pull her hand from his.

But his grip was too firm. “I’m wide awake...” He slurred, sleep-drunk before falling asleep once more. His breathing became even once more, confirming that he fell back asleep.

Charlie continued to pull at her hand, but Alastor’s iron grip on her kept her from moving.

Sighing, she knelt at his bedside and rested her head on the mattress in defeat. She let her cheek rest on his mattress and stared up at his slumbering face with a sad smile. “You’re just saying all that cuz you’re sick. I know you don’t see me like the way I see you. But that’s okay.” She took a long breath as she watched him sleep. It was now mid afternoon and though she had things to do, she didn’t care. She would rather just sit there and pretend a little longer.

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

When Charlie finally woke, she found herself laying in bed- with Alastor’s gaze on her.

“Ah!” She jumped up with a shriek and ungracefully rolled onto the floor.

Alastor peered over his bed to look down at her from above. “Well that was unnecessary,” he snapped his fingers and watched as his shadow immediately slid to Charlie’s side and scooped her unexpecting figure up into its arms.

Before Charlie could do anything or even react, the shadow gently slid her back into bed next to Alastor. “Do be careful doll.”

“Why was I in your bed?” She asked, confused by the gesture.

Alastor laughed as if it were a silly question. He propped himself up on his elbow. “You’ve already forgotten? Good golly darling I can’t believe you’d forget those pitifully sweet words you whispered in my ear. You seemed so downtrodden and disappointed.”

Unfortunately for her she did remember what she said to the supposedly sleeping man. Once she did, she stared at him in horror. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Well I was getting there, but fortunately I’m a very light sleeper. The moment you began speaking you had my attention! When you nodded off, I pulled you into bed and you were clinging to me like a newborn to its mother!” He chuckled.

Charlie rolled over so her back was to Alastor, bringing her hands up to hide her tomato-red face. “Damn it Al, I-I-“

“You don’t seem to be very happy about this arrangement. Am I not being clear enough?” He asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Charlie jumped at the contact and allowed him to gently pull her to turn onto her back. “What’re you talking about?”

“I’m returning your feelings dear, simple as that. No deal or ulterior motives behind it.” he said plainly without a hint of radio backing his voice. His smile was closed and soft, but his gaze remained hard and intensely fixed on her.

She paused, avoiding his eyes. “Do you still have a fever?”

Alastor shook his head. “Thanks to you I believe I’m well. But if you would like to check...” he slid his hand from her shoulder and down her arm to her hand, leaving goosebumps behind. He gently grasped her hand and brought it to his cheek.

“Well?” he asked, cheeks tinted red but smile steadfast.

“Your fever’s gone.” she replied absentmindedly.

They stared at each other silently, Charlie’s hand still pressed against his cheek. Her eyes trailed from his own ruby red eyes down to his lips before flicking back up to his eyes.

“Charlie?” Alastor asked.

Charlie blinked. “O-oh I uh, should go back to my room. It’s morning isn’t it? I-I need to go get ready for the day!” Quickly she pulled her hand out of his and practically rolled out of bed, this time to her feet.

Frantically she scanned the room until she found her shoes and quickly slipped them on.

Alastor sighed in slight disappointment, wondering if he did something wrong.

He looked down to the sheets under him to find her bowtie partially under the comforter. “Forgetting something?” He asked, catching her attention.

She froze with a squeak before turning. “I-uh.” she started, her cheeks a violent red.

Alastor cocked his head in confusion at her odd expression. “Darling are you going to-“

Charlie cut him off when she bent down and clumsily pecked his cheek, nearly crashing into his face. Not a moment later she pulled away and straightened stiffly. “Thank you for everything and I’m glad you’re better! I’ll see ya later Al!” She nearly sprinted out the door, leaving Alastor frozen in place.

After a moment, Alastor let out a breathy chuckle and picked up the bowtie that she’d left behind. He reached over to gently place it on top of his nightstand before rolling over to lay flat on his back.

His head was in a dizzy fog for most of the day yesterday but he could clearly remember it all.

She helped him willingly. She truly cared about his well being and went out of her way to care for him in his time of need. When was the last time anyone actually cared for or about him?

Knowing she was the one voluntarily caring for him sent his heart into a frenzy whenever he thought about it yesterday. If he didn’t know any better he would’ve thought that he truly was physically in worse shape than he initially thought!

But when he heard those words leave her lips he finally realized what exactly this feeling was. Through the fog everything finally clicked into place and seemed clearer than ever. While holding onto Charlie’s hand he thought of his mother and how he felt about her, how much he loved her and how he’d only ever want her affections. It was definitely a pure feeling he’d nearly forgotten, but found it once more in a foolish ancient demon of all things.

Alastor hummed to himself as he rolled out of bed, not feeling 100% yet but oddly feeling lighter than ever.

#charlastor #radiobelle #radiobellefic #charlastorfic #This was so much fun to write!!!#congrats again!

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jewels2876 · 3 years ago

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Always. - A LOKI finale synopsis

So I thought I could write something magical or be inspired by the Loki finale for @the-th-horniest-book-club as it's their last day of celebration.

And it hit me. I can't.

Here's what I can do: dissect this episode down to its heartbreaking ending because at the end I still have a million questions and it's gonna take a cartoon What If?, a Spiderman movie, maybe a Hawkeye show?, and a Dr. Strange movie to answer them all and I'll STILL have questions after that.

Consider for just a moment what happened to 2012 Loki when the TVA captured him way back in Episode One - what the hell did removing Loki do to the MCU timeline? Thor: The Dark World never happened. And no I don't mean you can pretend Marvel put it out there because they did, and it's one of the worst Marvel movies, there I said it. But if TWD didn't happen, what else could have been affected?

And with that disturbing thought we begin...

The opening credits HAVE AUDIO! Every tag line uttered as the characters flash on the screen, EVEN LOKI gets his "We have a Hulk" in. It is awesome; it is glorious; it is expected with EVERY Marvel creation going forward.

Loki and Sylvie should know better than to stare at a door; they always seem to open on their own when that happens. Miss Minutes pops up out of nowhere, scaring the bejesus out of 70% of people, the other 30% wanted to see her one last time. And she's not the same Miss Minutes we first met. She's edgy, she's less peppy, and she gives our duo an offer. Honestly, she should have known the result but 🤷🏻‍♀️

Ravonna is doing something in her office; if she's cleaning it's a piss poor job. Miss Minutes shows up and tells Ravonna she gave her what she needs. Ominous.

Back to Loki and Sylvie who finally meet "He Who Remains." Now we all know guys with names like "He Who Must Not Be Named" are bad news. Guys, to answer the question asked in the show, I'm a little disappointed. The disappointment lasts about five seconds... The office they get transported to reminds me IMMEDIATELY of a certain movie and certain buildings we've seen before (insert duh at this point because you too have seen every Marvel movie ever.)

****** Side note: anyone know if Tom takes his tea with only two sugars? No? Yes? Okay getting back to other things ******

At this point, we get back to Ravonna and her lack of cleaning when Mobius shows up with the pruner (it has to have a cooler name! side side note: nope just glowing batons) and we get a nice little flashback to Original Ravonna (maybe?)

****** 2nd side note: since when did everyone who's not a Russo brother start using OHIO for origin stories? Seriously, go watch Black Widow. I'll wait.******

Now back to Loki, Sylvie, and He Who Remains, hereto known as HWR, who pulls the same trick we saw in the first episode with the "read and sign" guy with the adorable kitten. HWR needs a kitten, a pet at the very least. "You can't get to the end until you've been changed by the journey." HWR s is winding up for a pitch and also summarizes the show too. Loki asks if it's a manipulation; HWR finds the word interesting and I do to. Here's why:

Odin manipulated Loki's abandonment to his advantage

Thanos put Loki under mind control and used him

This is the 2012 Loki as a reminder, so he hasn't been subjected to imprisonment on Asgard or the brotherly banter/squabbles he and Thor have escaping Asgard, nor “Get help” from Ragnarok so it should come as no shock that Loki looks angry. After all, Odin and Thanos kind of killed any hope in Loki of feeling wanted or needed. Aren’t father figures supposed to instill hope, instead of disgust? Yeah, I can answer that one but that’d be an entire other post.

Now we’re back to Ravonna and Mobius and they spat over who was more betrayed - news flash: it was Mobius. But Ravonna has to do for the digs. “Those variants?” “You threw it away for a couple of Lokis.” Mobius tries to reason with Ravonna, sounding exactly like Glenda and Elphaba from Wicked (his “together” is spot on Glenda!) Ravonna opens a portal looking for “free will” after giving Mobius one last beatdown.

And we’re back to Loki, Sylvie and HWR. HWR gives them a bit of his backstory; I have a suspicion he’s glossed over some of it (he admits being called a conqueror for cryin’ out loud!) He has a maniacal moment, standing on his desk, voice getting a little shrill and thin. He also admits he’s probably the saner of his variants (my words not his.) Then after his real-man-behind-the-curtain routine he makes them an offer. Take his place. Loki, who has been remarkably non verbal, asks why HWR would give up control. Good question from the guy who wants to be in control yet was meant to thrive on chaos he creates. If anyone is keeping score, questions have been asked but not a single ANSWER has been given! Sylvie isn’t believing a single word while our Loki’s wheels are turning.

****** 3rd side note: the acting has been PHENOMENAL this entire series. Forget what Marvel promised and didn’t deliver (fluid Loki) and a scene we’ll be getting to, Tom and company have been nothing short of an Emmy, which I expect next year.******

HWR finally gets fed up with Sylvie and tells her to grow up. Because she took her pruning personally. Now I’m not going to say she shouldn’t be upset about her pruning; Marvel made it A POINT of showing her playing, content on Asgard, when they took her. But HWR has a point. He’s offering an option that allows Loki and Sylvie to do whatever they feel is best and it’s the wrong time for Sylvie to get in her feelings. Of course 99% of us know that’s EXACTLY when feelings choose to surface.

Then something happens - we don’t know who or what did it. Was it Ravonna and her leaving? Did Ravonna meet someone we suspect? Was it Mobius? Miss Minutes? The agents? We may never know exactly but now HWR is actually in the dark. Mr. Know-It-All suddenly doesn’t know it all.

Sylvie thinks she has her opportunity to fulfil her quest but it’s our Loki who protects HWR. Loki doesn’t tell her she’s wrong or right, just to stop and THINK. And now we get a glimpse of 2018 Loki:

See the bigger picture

Let’s talk about it

I believe HWR

What fills the void of a dictator?

What if we unleash something worse than HWR?

Now here’s where Marvel gets an B+ in character development. They took the 2012 Loki hell bent on destroying Earth to rule it and gave him just enough growth to become the 2018 redeemed Loki ODINSON, willing to sacrifice himself to Thanos (even if he did think he wouldn’t die.) It’s not a perfect arc by any means, but Marvel got there and this is one thing I applaud.

Sylvie now thinks Loki is lying to her to get to a throne and is clearly upset they are not seeing eye to eye on this and another point to Marvel. Loki, for only seeing a few videos that Mobius showed him, still has more life experience in his SINGULAR moment with Thanos to know that there is ALWAYS something bigger, badder, WORSE around the corner and he does NOT want to make the wrong decision. Wow.

To trust or not to trust.

It’s a beautiful sword fight that HWR sits back and watches like it’s ESPN. The lighting is gorgeous behind the action and is leading up to my next OMG moment: STOP.

Loki asks Sylvie to stop, almost like a child. Like someone who knows exactly where the fight leads, where it goes, and where it ends. And he says as much to her as well. Sylvie feels like that person who just wants the fight to be over; she hunches into Tom’s space and the lighting suddenly stays green and blue. Guess who’s green? Guess who is blue?

This goes back to my Emmy mention. Even if it’s ONLY for technical work, it’s so deserving. Sylvie, in green, tired, emotional, struggling with something we aren’t supposed to know just yet. Loki, in blue, almost as if his Jotun form has taken over, strong, sensible, relatable, empathetic.

And then that damn kiss! Marvel missed another opportunity here. Two Lokis had the opportunity to show self-love, familial love, friendly love, ANYTHING BUT A DAMN KISS!!! I’m not saying they couldn’t have feelings for each other, but it NEVER has to be romantic just because it’s a guy and a girl. **dramatic sigh goes here**

Sylvie pushes Loki through a portal she has opened, then turns to stab HWR through the chest, as he predicted. HWR actually chuckles, which makes me wonder if he expected this exact turn of events. As if we’ll ever know for sure.

Of course the timeline is going nebular and we’re treated to a shot back to the TVA. Mobius and B-15 exchange words as they watch the timelines grow and grow. Loki is sitting on a couch at the TVA and decides he’s not done? You’re supposed to guess the motivation because everything seems normal at the TVA. Loki finds Mobius and B-15 and admits to everything. Loki calling HWR terrifying is terrifying all on is own. And this of course is where it ends.

The post credit scene is just a “Loki returns in Season Two.”

Guys, this season was a mixed bag. There was some good, there was some not so good; there were laughs and a couple of tears. But it also has me SO HYPED for what’s to come. More Loki, more Marvel content, more... everything, I hope!

#loki spoilers #loki tv spoilers #loki #sylvie

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darlingandmreames · 4 years ago

Text

All the Freedom in the World

(also on ao3)

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

Arthur laughed, the question surprising him. “Me? No. Not really my thing.”

“I used to think the same thing.” Mal grinned at him over her drink. She usually loved gin and tonics, but tonight it was just tonic. Had been for a couple weeks now, and Arthur was starting to wonder. “Told myself I was never going to let myself get tied down like that. I was never going to marry, never going to have kids, never going to have one of those white picket fence houses I’d always hated growing up.”

Arthur nodded in agreement. Sounded like a perfectly good plan to him. “So what changed?”

Mal shrugged. “I met someone.” She looked out across the room to where Dom was chatting up a group of military officers. He excelled at dinners like these, dialing up the charm to a nearly unbearable degree and getting everybody in the room to like him. Mal leaned her elbow against the table and rested her head in her hand, watching Dom with a fond look. “Sometimes you meet someone so wonderful that the thought of not having them in your life just feels wrong. All of those plans I’d come up with for my life, the things I was going to do and see and experience all on my own, changed after I met Dom. I still wanted to do them, of course, that didn’t change. But the thought of doing them alone, doing them by myself, lost its appeal. I wanted to do them, but I wanted to do them with him. It didn’t feel like being tied down anymore, not if it was with him.” She looked back at Arthur with a small smile. “Maybe it won’t change for you, who knows. But don’t discount the fact that it might.”

“Hm. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.” Arthur took a drink. What Mal was describing certainly sounded nice and he could see how much she loved Dom. How much they both loved each other. The idea of finding that level of happiness in another person, though, didn’t strike him as something he was likely to find. And despite her reassurances to the contrary, it still sounded to Arthur a hell of a lot like being tied down and he couldn’t think of anything worse. What they did allowed for so much more freedom than Arthur had ever dreamed of, and the idea of giving that up- giving it up for one person- sounded both unpleasant and incredibly stupid. “Still don’t see it happening, though. Not for me, at least.”

“Maybe.” Mal leaned back in her chair, going back to watching Dom. “You never know. Sometimes things change, even when you don't expect them to.”

XXX

“D’you ever think about getting married?”

Arthur could hear the alcohol in Dom’s voice. He was speaking slowly and slurring his words, vowels and consonants blurring into each other with little differentiation. Arthur wasn’t sure how long he’d been here at the bar before Arthur’d found him, but he was starting to think it had been quite a while. “Never really something I thought about much. Didn’t have much reason to.”

Dom nodded, picking his glass up and downing half of it in one go. “I knew I’d marry Mal. Knew as soon as I met her. She was-” he paused, hiccupping slightly, “she was perfect, you know? Happiest day of my life was when she said she’d marry me. Told her I’d dreamt…dreamt we’d…that we’d grow old together and…”

Arthur rested his hand gently on Dom’s arm, recognizing the waver in his voice. He’d rushed to the states as soon as he’d heard what happened, abandoning the job he’d been working on, and when Dom had fled the country, Arthur had followed him. They’d been country hopping for a few weeks now, trying to stay out of reach of the authorities. Arthur had taken it upon himself to take care of the logistics, figuring out where they could go and how long they could stay in a place before they needed to leave. Dom had more than enough to occupy his mind without having to think about any of that.

Dom finished off the rest of his drink with a grimace. “How could…how could she do this, Arthur? How could she do this to me? To our children? I don’t…” He dropped his head, voice breaking slightly. “I miss her, god I miss her so fucking much.”

“I’m sorry, Dom.” There wasn’t any comfort in the words, not really, but Arthur didn’t know what else to say. He’d seen grief before, but never like this. The pain in Dom’s voice, in his expression and posture and actions, was almost frightening. Horrifying. Mal’s death had hit Arthur too; she’d been one of his closest friends, more family than anything else, and losing her left a gaping hole in his chest that he wasn’t sure how to fill. But it was different for Dom. He’d lost his world when Mal had jumped, lost a part of himself that Arthur knew he would never be able to replace. It frightened him, honestly, to see that pain. It was something he couldn’t quite understand and he hoped to god that he never did. Love like what Dom and Mal had had wasn’t worth it if it came at this cost. He kept his hand on Dom’s arm, trying to provide whatever little comfort he could as Dom’s shoulders shook. “I’m so, so sorry.”

XXX

“You ever think about getting married?”

“No.” Arthur didn’t even bother looking up as he answered Ariadne’s question.

“You didn’t give that much thought.”

Arthur shrugged, still focusing on the documents in front of him. This mark had extractor training- Arthur was near obsessive about checking and double checking for that ever since the Fischer job, and it had paid off this time- and there was quite a bit of information for him to go through. “I don’t have to. It’s not something I’m interested in. Never have been.”

“Can I ask why?”

Arthur paused briefly before looking up. “Are you actually curious, or are you just trying to avoid doing work for a bit?”

Ariadne laughed a bit sheepishly. “Both?”

Arthur stared at her a moment longer before sighing slightly. She’d been working diligently for several hours, so he supposed a small break wasn’t the worst idea. “It’s just never been something I saw myself doing. And it’s certainly not common among extractors. This field doesn’t exactly lend itself to long term relationships. Or to healthy ones.” He shrugged again. “Working as an extractor means constantly moving. City to city, country to country, job to job. You don’t get attached. You don’t have the time to and, even if you did, attachments are dangerous. They make you vulnerable and weak. So most people in this area avoid them.”

Ariadne raised her eyebrows. “That’s a pretty cynical view of things.”

“It’s a realistic view of things.”

“Maybe.” She leaned back in her chair. “Still, wouldn’t it be nice? To find someone you could share this with? I mean, maybe I’m just still new to this and naive, but that sounds a lot better than spending your life alone.”

Arthur was about to answer- to tell her that that alone, in his opinion, was the best thing someone could be in this field- when Eames wandered into the room. It was far warmer here in Manila than it had been on their last job and Eames was thriving, wearing a different short sleeve paisley shirt every day, each more hideously garish than the last. Arthur’d been surprised when he’d agreed to keep working with them as Arthur’d looked for jobs where he could continue teaching Ariadne the ropes and get her acquainted with the field more broadly, but Eames had agreed with nothing more than a smile and a casual of course, darling. At the end of each job Arthur kept expecting him to finally jump ship but, six months and five jobs in, he seemed perfectly content at least for now to continue following them. And as much as they bickered and disagreed at times, Arthur couldn’t help but admit that it was a bit nice having a familiar face on each job. Someone he trusted.

Eames noticed Arthur watching him and winked. Arthur looked down, frowning, and tried to ignore the slight heat in his cheeks. “Alone is what this job requires. Anything else is unrealistic.” He started to go back to sorting through the documents but paused, considering Ariadne’s question again. “Though I suppose it might be nice,” he finally admitted. “Unrealistic, but nice all the same.”

XXX

"You ever think 'bout getting married, mate?"

Arthur looked over at Yusuf with a slight frown, his eyes taking a second to focus. He'd just finished a job in Nairobi and decided to stop by Mombasa to visit before heading off to Milan for his next job. Yusuf had been his usual excitable self and was happy to see him, offering to make them both drinks. Arthur had agreed- which was a terrible idea, he should’ve known better than to let the chemist make drinks- and now they were both sprawled out on Yusuf's couch, piss drunk. Arthur knew he'd regret this in the morning, but his inevitable hangover was a problem for future him. "Bit of a random question."

Yusuf shrugged. "One of my childhood mates got married a few weeks back and it got me thinking, that's all. Not really a common thing in our field, is it? Well, 'cept for Cobb and Mal I suppose, but that, uh," he frowned, "that's maybe not the best example."

"Mm." Arthur hummed in agreement, taking a drink. "Really isn't."

"You ever think about it though?" Yusuf looked over at him. "'Bout getting hitched? You know, if you met the right person or whatever."

Arthur paused, trying to focus on the question. After a moment he shrugged; giving it serious thought wasn't something he was particularly capable of at the moment. "Dunno. Maybe. If it was the right person."

"Yeah I guess it would really depend on-oh! That reminds me!" Yusuf sat up excitedly, swaying slightly as he leaned forward, grinning. "I heard a bit of a rumour."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, staying where he was. The room was spinning already, he didn't need to make it worse by moving. "Oh?"

"Mm. 'Bout you and a certain forger." If Arthur had been more sober, he would've thought up some excuse, some way to talk around the subject, or maybe even simply have denied it outright. But he was very, very much not sober. So instead he just grinned at Yusuf over his glass. Yusuf pointed at him with a disbelieving and somewhat exasperated look. "I knew it! I fuckin' knew it!" He flopped back against the couch cushions, swearing as he spilled some of his drink on himself. "Knew you two had a thing for each other!"

"Fuck off, you worked one job with us."

"Yeah, and you two spent the entire time flirting."

"We were not flirting. I don't think." Arthur frowned, thinking back. Had they been flirting? "Okay, maybe we were a little."

"You were definitely flirting, mate," Yusuf laughed. "So you guys are, uh…?"

"Yeah, couple months now." Arthur gave another small shrug. "It's nice, you know? Having something more than a fling or a one night stand. I like it. Like him." He smiled, mind drifting to when he'd see Eames next. He was working the Milan job as well; neither one of them had outright said it, but he knew they'd both agreed to take the job mainly so they could see each other. It was a small thing, but something about it made him happy every time he thought about it. After a moment his mind caught up with what his mouth had said and he pointed at Yusuf, giving him the most serious look he could muster. "This stays between us."

Yusuf held his hands up in mock surrender. "Not a word." He watched Arthur with a small smile. "I'm happy for you, though, mate. Really. You guys are insufferable together, but in a…in a sweet way, ya know?"

"Fuck off." Arthur took another drink, trying to hide both his grin and the rising heat in his cheeks. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

XXX

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

Arthur accepted the cup of coffee from Miles gratefully. He and Eames had only gotten in the night before and the jet lag was starting to catch up to him. He took a small sip, ignoring the fact that it was still far too hot to drink. Even a tiny bit of caffeine was worth a burnt tongue. “Sometimes.” He shrugged. “It’s complicated though. It’s not legal for us in a lot of places. Hell, even here in the states it’s a crapshoot half the time.”

Miles sat down across from him at the table with a mug of his own, raising his eyebrows. “Legality has never seemed to be much of an issue for you in the past.”

“Fair enough,” Arthur laughed. “This is…this is different though, you know? If we were going to do it, I’d want to do it right.” He shrugged. “There’s a lot that would have to go into it, and honestly, I’m not sure it’d be worth it. Might just end up being more effort than a simple piece of paper is worth.”

“It’s not just a piece of paper.” Miles watched him over his coffee. “That may be all it is physically, but there’s more to it than that.”

“I guess so.” Arthur’s gaze drifted to the dining room. Eames was seated at the table there with Philippa as she drew. She’d given him a sheet of paper and coloured pencils of his own and he was sketching something, pausing every once in a while to look over at what Philippa was drawing with a wide smile and encouraging comment. It was a sweet sight; both James and Philippa had taken to Eames immediately the first time he and Arthur had visited Dom, and he’d quickly become known as Uncle Eames. He was good with them, kind and patient and just enough of a troublemaker to cement himself as their favourite uncle. Eames looked up, catching Arthur’s eye and giving him a soft smile. It was the sort of smile he seemed to reserve solely for Arthur, with a gentle fondness that wasn’t in any of his others. The look sent warmth spreading in Arthur’s chest like it always did and he smiled back. “Maybe it would be worth it. I don’t know.”

“Hm.” Miles had fixed him with a knowing look by the time Arthur looked back over and Arthur took another sip of too hot coffee, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I suppose you’ll just have to keep thinking about it.”

“Yeah.” Arthur looked back at Eames. “I suppose I will.”

XXX

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

The question broke the quiet pre-dawn silence around them. Arthur wasn’t quite sure what- if anything- had prompted him to ask it. The topic had certainly been on his mind recently- increasingly so, actually- but he hadn't quite intended to ask it. At least not right now. He didn’t feel any panic or surprise as his brain caught up to the words, though. Maybe he should’ve, but he didn’t. Instead he simply nestled further against Eames’ side, seeking out a bit more warmth. They were both wrapped in several thick blankets to stave off the early morning cold and the cup of coffee in his hands helped somewhat too, but neither of those things could quite compare to the feeling of Eames’ body heat.

Eames paused briefly before chuckling. “That’s quite a question for not even 6am." He shifted slightly, making room for Arthur. “I do, yeah. Especially now." He seemed to hesitate. "Do you ever think about it?"

"I never used to." Arthur rested his head in the crook of Eames' neck, staring out at the mountains in the early morning light. He'd always loved the mountains around Lucerne and this hotel had a phenomenal view of them, the balcony facing the snow capped peaks. Eames had been the one to suggest they watch the sunrise this morning, and Arthur had been all too happy to agree. "I never wanted to get married. Always said it wasn't for me. I thought it sounded like such a terrible idea, giving up freedom for one single person. I couldn't imagine myself ever doing something like that. I remember telling Mal that, and she told me that sometimes you met someone who made it worth it." He smiled softly at the memory. "I thought she was full of shit." Eames laughed quietly and Arthur reached across his lap until he found Eames' hand under the blankets, intertwining their fingers. "I think I understand better now what she meant though. Because I did meet someone who makes it worth it. And that freedom I was so set on never giving up? It doesn't mean anything anymore if it's not with you."

Eames paused again, going still. "Arthur, are you asking me to marry you?"

Arthur considered the question for a moment. "Yeah. I think I am." He smiled, the realization dawning on him. That was exactly what he was doing. "I love you, and all the freedom in the world isn't worth it without you beside me. So I'd like to be your husband, if you're okay with that."

Eames shifted, tilting Arthur's chin up with his fingers. Arthur followed the movement easily to find Eames watching him with an expression gentler than Arthur had thought possible. There was such love in his face that Arthur briefly wondered if he'd somehow died during the night and woken up in heaven. "Darling, there is nothing in this world I'd want more."

Arthur smiled wider and closed the space between them with a kiss. Mal was right: some things really did change. And that was okay.

#arthur x eames #arthur/eames #dream husbands #dreamhusbands #inception #this has been floating around in my brain for like a month #so I figured I should probably finally write it khgkjsdf #local trash goblin writes stuff

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chocoholicannanymous · 4 years ago

Text

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) pt XIV

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, part VI, pt VII, part VIII, part IX, part X, part XI, part XII and part XIII.

Posting this for day 3 (Dalton) of @kbweek2020, for reasons.

Benjamin Harris asks Kurt to call him Ben during their first meeting, and pencils him in for two sessions per week “for now”. Kurt doesn't know whether to be grateful that he's at a school where his mental health is considered so important or horrified that he's seen as needing that much help.

When he brings it up with Sebastian the answer is “grateful” and Kurt's pretty sure that it's the right one. It's just such a glaring difference from McKinley where the closest he'd gotten to an adult caring about his anything (in a positive way that was) was poor Miss Pillsbury.

And that's, that's just sad.

So he agrees to go to Ben's office every Monday and Wednesday, and he tries to talk, only he finds he's still skittish and wary.

Ben's good though, and finds a way around Kurt's defenses by suggesting that they bring in Finn for a few shared sessions, “to heal old wounds”. It's a good solution as that's something about being back at Dalton, and about boarding again, that Kurt isn't entirely pleased about. Not living at home means it's hard to be there for Finn (and to not having Finn be there for him). Sebastian is a good friend, but Finn's his brother. Kurt worries, okay?

Ben being sneaky and getting permission to have Finn come over for the first two weeks is an excellent solution.

(The only one who doesn't realize that half the reason is so Finn can get the help he needs but McKinley won't provide is Finn himself.)

Once Kurt begins to trust Ben – once he's seen that it's justified – talking gets easier. Telling him about everything that's lead to Kurt transferring to Dalton not just once but twice in a year in painful but also healing. Even if he sometimes hides from everyone afterwards just to deal with the sheer hurt of how little help he's ever been offered outside of his home and his dad's garage, and how much he could have thrived if he'd gotten this earlier.

The worst part is talking about Blaine.

Except, he has to, and maybe that's even worse.

So he makes an appointment late on a Friday, arranges for Finn to come pick him up, and then walks in with his back straight and his emotions tucked away as deep as possible.

He tells the whole story of him and Blaine, from that first meeting on the staircase all the way to the police station, with as little detail and emotion as he can get away with. He winces, once, because Ben shifts a little during the part about Scandals, and right, he worked here last year. It's possible, Kurt thinks, that not that long ago it was Blaine sitting in this very chair telling Ben about his circumstances.

When Kurt reaches the end he falls silent. He's a little hoarse, from talking so long, and he feels empty.

Ben's quiet too, at first. He sits there, then gets up to fetch Kurt a bottle of water and waits for him to drink some of it.

“That's...that's a lot you just told me, Kurt. And judging from what I've learned about you I'm guessing this is the first time you've talked about all of it like this?”

True. Kurt's talked, yes, with Finn and Sebastian and even his dad. Before Blaine's disappearance he'd talked to Rachel and Mercedes. But not like this. Not without hiding things, or editing them out. Not with honesty.

“All of this, everything that's happened with Blaine... How does it make you feel?”

“Angry. Pathetic. Weak. Stupid. So, so stupid.”

“Why stupid?”

“Because I trusted him. I've got trust issues from here to forever, and I just trusted him. All I had to go on was that Blaine was cute, and charismatic when performing, that he was willing to listen and seemed sympathetic, and that he was gay just like me. That he'd been bullied, like me. Or so he said.

“And I just took him at his word. Trusted him like a damned sheep. Without a single shred of evidence that he was worth it. I told him things I hadn't even thought about telling my dad – who was worth my trust – and things I didn't have the right to tell him, and for what? So things could get even worse?”

Ben takes a moment again, before asking his next question.

“Do you feel now that Blaine didn't deserve that trust? Not just in the end, but throughout your relationship, I mean.”

Kurt laughs, short and harsh and joyless.

“You know, I dream about it. Not, not about that night – or I do too, but those are, that's not dreams, that's... Anyway, no.

“I dream that it's an ordinary day, and I'm driving over to Blaine's house to surprise him for some reason. I don't know why, since Blaine specifically told me I was never to show up there without warning, and I respected that.”

He'd added two and two and come up with “Mr Anderson is a homophobic prick”, which may or may not be true, and also may or may not be the actual reason.

“Anyway. I drive over there, and I ring the doorbell, and when Mrs Anderson opens the door I ask for Blaine. Only she tells me there's no Blaine living there, there never was. And when I push her on it, she tells me that a boy paid them to pretend to be his family, but she doesn't know why, or where he really lives.”

Kurt swallows.

“And then I wake up, and I can't help but wonder, if I were to do my research, would I find an Anderson family at West Elm Street? And if I did, would the faces match the people I've met?”

“What do you mean?”

“Blaine and I dated for six months, and were friends for another six months before that. And somehow I never got to know his family. I haven't even seen a photo of Blaine's older brother. I've only ever met Mrs Anderson three times, and Mr Anderson twice. If it wasn't for the fact that they were at the police station, specifically as Blaine's parents – which, by the way, is one of those times – I don't know if I'd believe that's who they are. Hell, at my darkest moments I still question it.”

“Do you really believe he would fake something like that?”

Ben's voice doesn't hold mocking, or disbelief, just worry.

“No. Not really. As I said, they went to the police as Blaine's parents. That's not something you risk if it's fake. Besides, Lima's too small to pull something like that off.

“It's more that I find that I was such an unimportant piece of Blaine's life puzzle that I can't even trust something like that.”

They both sit quiet for a while. After all, what is there even to say about thoughts like those?

When Kurt returns to Dalton on Sunday evening Sebastian is leaning against his door, dangling a thermos-flask from one hand. It's both a welcome sight and not, seeing as Kurt had let slip about the nightmares during a check-in the day before. But. It's coffee, and it's Sebastian.

He's halfway through his cup before Sebastian grabs the bull by the horn.

“Do you want to talk about the nightmares?”

No, he most certainly does not. Not those anyway. Still...

“The ones about that night, no. But there are others. Sometimes I have nightmares where I come to school and instead of Blaine being gone, instead of me being called into Miss Pillsbury's office the next day to be met with the news that Blaine's gone... I go to my locker and he's there. And I forgive him. I just...ignore that he tried to rape me, and I forgive him. Even worse, I take the blame.

“And then I wake up shaking, knowing that I could so easily have done just that.”

“Kurt...” His name falls from Sebastian's lips with almost no sound, and it's so clear that the other boy wants to protest.

“No, I really could have. Right from the beginning everyone was so happy to let me know I was lucky to find Blaine, and some made it clear that they didn't think I'd ever be able to do better. Hell, my own experience made me believe that. So why would I have let him walk away? If he was the best I could get, then it was forgive him or spend my life alone.

“Talking to Ben has made me realize exactly how unhealthy that kind of thinking is, and how me folding about something like that would have impacted our entire relationship. He would always have known he could get away with just about anything, and I would never be able to stand up for myself because of the fear of being alone.”

Kurt shudders. Had those dreams been reality then he would never have felt safe denying Blaine sex again. He'd never have felt safe denying Blaine anything. You want that role I need? Of course. You want to move across the country? I'll start packing. You want me to quit my job and be a househusband? Yes dear.

He'd have become a doormat, and he'd have told everyone it was what he wanted while believing it was all he deserved.

Blaine leaving had hurt like hell, but Kurt's beginning to believe it had been a blessing.

“I think I might have dodged a bullet there.”

Sebastian scoffs.

“No shit. That's not a bullet though, that's ammunition for a small war.”

Kurt acknowledges the point. It's a bit of an overstatement, he thinks, but then again he went the other direction.

“Either way, he's out of my life, and he's not getting back in. That's a good thing. The same will be true about the nightmares, sooner or later. No, this isn't me pretending things are fine when they're not, this is me honestly believing it'll be fine. Talking to Ben helps.

“Having you helps.”

He watches amused as Sebastian blushes softly at the compliment while trying to play cocky. He likes it when Sebastian's facade breaks down. In fact, he might just have made it his mission to make it happen as often as possible.

“So, do you have any plans for the rest of the evening? Lacrosse equipment to clean? Lingering homework? No? What about that essay for Mme Lacroix?”

The panic in Sebastian's face as he jumps up is delicious.

“What essay? When did she– Oh, I see. Not funny, Hummel.”

“From where I'm sitting? Definitely funny, Smythe. But if there's nothing else you need to do, would you like to watch a movie with me? I've got some chocolate I don't mind sharing, and I'll even let you pick the movie.”

Sebastian looks at him suspiciously, searching for the next joke. Then he apparently decides that Kurt is serious.

“I could do that. Careful though, that almost sounded like you asking for a date.”

“Who said I wasn't?” Total deer in headlights look. “Would it be so bad? I like you. I think we are good together. I believe we could be even better. I trust you. Giving this, giving us, a chance feels smart. It feels right.”

Sebastian keeps staring at him, and Kurt feels himself begin to fidget a little, suddenly uncomfortable. Did he read the situation wrong? Then, finally, Sebastian speaks, voice a little raspy.

“Oh god. I thought you... Can I kiss you?”

There's a desperation in the words, but Kurt can't fault him for it. He feels it too. So he nods, and takes a step towards Sebastian. He's expecting... Well, he doesn't know what he's expecting. More of the desperation maybe? Expertise? Seduction? He definitely wasn't expecting careful softness, and constant checks for consent, but that's what he gets.

Then again, maybe that's exactly what he should have expected from Sebastian, who's been with him the whole way, who knows everything, and has shown himself to care in a way Kurt's not entirely used to to.

It's a Sebastian without masks and attitudes, meeting a Kurt without the same, and it's everything he could have wished for.

He's got no memory of what movie they finally play.

#chocoholic fics #kurt fic #kurt hummel #a wild sebastian appears #sebastian smythe #in 2020 we finish our wips #kbweek2020

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overheardatthecontinental · 4 years ago

Text

Talk Chapter 19

AO3 LINK

It was over, but not done.

There were still so many things to do before John could drop everything and go home to Helen.

He starts by calling Nick.

“H-hello?” Jesus, the boy really was afraid of him.

Ironic, John thinks, considering he owes this kid more than he can ever hope to repay for allowing Helen to contact him during her imprisonment. And then looking out for her at the cost of his job, possibly his life if DeLuca had found out.

“It’s done.” He says, “DeLuca’s going to be picked up by Adjudication. Are you able to stay until someone gets there to pick up Isabella?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. The, uh, the bounty’s dropped then?”

He exhales and, fuck, it feels so good.

The bounty is dropped. The contract is closed. And while he doesn’t think either of them will ever be truly safe, no one is coming after her anymore.

“Yes.”

“Good. That’s, that’s good.” Nick sounds relieved, too. The younger man pauses for a moment and then tentatively asks, “Would you do me a favor, Mister Wick, sir? She told me if I ever wanted to talk… I just was wondering if you could ask her to call me. When she’s back and settled and shi—stuff. Stuff.”

And, god, Helen was just that good. And it had started as manipulation, he knew. A way to save herself when he wasn’t there to do the job but there was no doubt in John’s mind that Helen would meet with Nick every week, for as long as he needed.

“Yeah, kid. I’ll pass it along.”

“Thank you.”

John pauses, thoughtfully. “When Isabella’s been picked up, head over to the Continental. Ask for Winston. New York is always busy. I know they’re looking to hire another Sommelier. It’ll pay more than Syndicate; I can guarantee that. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He shakes his head, in disbelief of himself. He knew Helen was his reason, but John couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment he had gone utterly and completely soft .

Maybe she’d have some insight to that, he thinks, smiling to himself.

And, because he doesn’t want the knowledge that he has gone soft to spread, he adds, “Don’t fuck it up” and ends the call.

After all, he isn’t done in the Underworld.

For starters, the contract had been dropped but that didn’t mean the memo had gotten out. And that needed to happen before he brought Helen back home. The last thing he wanted was to bring her back only to have some kid target her because they ignored the notice.

The hotel buzzes as John walks through the front door.

He ignores it, as he always does, approaching the front desk. There’s a small queue that has gathered in front of Charon, but the Concierge waves him up.

“The Manager is expecting you. He is in his office.”

John nods his thanks and turns towards the hall where he’ll find Winston, only to run into Verdugo.

The other assassin looks him over, regarding him with vague interest. He’s carrying a weapons bag, slung over a shoulder. A duffle bag resides in his other hand.

He’s leaving, John realizes. Verdugo was a drifter.

The only thing that had kept him in New York was the possibility of a substantial bounty that has since been removed.

Verdugo breaks the silence first, “I’ll admit, when I heard you were trying to get the bounty removed, I didn’t think you could do it.”

John raises a brow.

Because what the hell is he supposed to say to that?

Oh, no worries. Totally get it. You wouldn’t have wasted both our time if you had only realized sooner that you couldn’t kill my love?

“It was just business.”

Now that, John thinks, is something he’s grown very tired of hearing.

The Underworld, for better or worse—and right now, John Wick was very much leaning towards worse , was all about money and advancement. Status.

The values he has been exposed to, he realizes, had been very self-serving. No wonder so many narcissists and hedonists thrived in the Underworld.

And John had survived because he was so self-reliant. He had thrived in a world where favors are currency by being willing to help others and avoiding asking for any help in return. It made him rich, in more than just money. The pile of markers in his collection is unparalleled.

But he still went home alone. To an empty house. In an empty life, where escapism had been his only fulfillment.

Drifting.

In control but, somehow, still empty.

Until Helen had forced her way into his head, laying claim to his heart.

And suddenly everything that had once seemed so complicated and out of reach was within his grasp.

In that moment, he pities Verdugo.

A man, so much like him in so many ways. A drifter. Free of roots and obligation. Making a name for himself by virtue of skill and competency. But hollow like a tin soldier.

Verdugo will move on to the next contract. The name Helen Kingston will be replaced with another unfortunate soul, who John is certain will not be as lucky.

And he’ll make his money and build his legacy.

And he’ll go home alone. To an empty house. In an empty life.

John wants to kill him along with anyone else who had hurt or threatened Helen’s life, but it occurs to him that might be a mercy. And maybe Verdugo doesn’t deserve mercy but John didn’t deserve mercy, either. But it had found him.

Still, he feels the need to say, “If I ever see you anywhere near her…”

“You won’t.” Verdugo assures him, “Be seeing you.”

“No.” John says, “You won’t.”

He leaves Verdugo standing in the hall as he makes his way to Winston’s office.

The old man doesn’t even look up as John walks in. “It would appear that you had a busy day.” He says as he practically collapses into one of the leather chairs.

“Busy week.” John amends, “I think I finally understand the phrase thank god it’s Friday .”

Winston smirks, rising to his feet, “Drink?”

He shakes his head, “No, thank you. I’ve had enough today, while playing politics. Did you happen to hear from Sofia?”

“Yes,” Winston says, pouring himself brandy, “I already sent someone to collect Mateo. And Isabella. She said you got a confession from the former.”

“Lorenzo plans to force the counsel to convene on Monday, here in the city.”

“He wants justice meted out swiftly.”

“That makes two of us.” John agrees with a nod. “I want this done and in the past.”

“Understandably. You managed the impossible this week.”

“Didn’t think I could do it?” John asks, thinking of his conversation with Verdugo and the time that had been wasted pursuing Helen Kingston.

“On the contrary,” Winston says, taking the seat next to him, “You made me a great deal of money.”

John arches a brow.

“You successfully removing the bounty was the long odds over at Dex’s. Fifty to one.”

And, fuck, but that makes him laugh. He didn’t realize how much he needed that after the stress of the day, “How much did you put down?”

“Five grand.” Winston looks at him strangely and it occurs to John that he’s probably never laughed in front of Winston before.

“Well-played.” He says, shaking his head in amusement. While he never intends to tell Helen of the betting odds placed on when she would die and by whose hand, he can’t help but think that she’d get a kick out of it. Either that, or she’d be pissed she never got a chance to get in on the action.

Yeah. That sounds right.

“I know the rumor mill will have heard that the contract was dropped,” John says, “but is it possible to get Administration to send out a mass message? To confirm it, and make sure anybody working solo is notified?”

“I’ll see to it myself.”

John nods gratefully. That would make him feel much better about taking her back to the city. Although he’s already mentally preparing himself for the wave of anxiety that will surely hit the moment, he leaves her alone to go back to work. He tables that particular worry for now.

“I have another favor to ask.”

Winston rolls his eyes, “Indeed?”

“Nick Russo. Ex-Syndicate. He burnt some bridges today to help keep Helen safe. I’d appreciate it if you considered him for the second Sommelier position you were considering opening up.”

The old man hums, “I’ll meet with him.”

“Thank you.”

And just like that, two things are checked off his list.

Winston was good like that. As Manager, it was his job to be accommodating and helpful and ensure everyone was getting the best services that could be offered to those serving the High Table. But it was also more than that.

For decades, Winston had been a mentor to him.

After being introduced by Charon, Winston had immediately taken to the young, reckless assassin. He’d seen something that others had brushed to the side.

And John had been skeptical. Untrusting.

But Winston had been relentless. He offered sound advice that John found hard to ignore. Slowly, John had found himself utilizing the Manager. After moving back to New York, it became clear that Winston knew the city and its inhabitants better than anyone.

Somewhere along the line, John had begun to trust him.

Winston had tried to line John up for Management but had accepted his decision when John, respectfully, denied interest in such a path. While Winston mourned John’s lack of ambition, he continued to serve as a mentor.

Arguably, the closest thing John had ever had to a father-figure.

John doesn’t doubt, for a moment, his decision to retire. He will miss very little about the Underworld. But Winston would be counted amongst them.

And while John doesn’t particularly want to have this conversation, he owes it to Winston to be the one to tell him.

“I’ve decided to retire.”

Winston’s head turns sharply, “Pardon?”

John sits up straighter in the chair, “I’m retiring. As soon as everything has been taken care of, I’m leaving the Underworld.”

“Jonathan, you have obligations.” Winston says, shaking his head, “You can’t just retire .”

“Lorenzo is freeing me of my contractual obligations. I intend to reach out to Viggo to make arrangements as well.”

“Lorenzo D’Antonio is letting you walk away?” The surprise is evident in his voice.

John nods.

“Miraculous in itself, but you cannot expect Viggo to do the same.”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” John says softly, “One way or another, I’m getting out. And I’ve made up my mind about this. It won’t be changed.”

He leaves no room for argument. Bittersweet as it may be, there is nothing that can change his mind anymore. Even if Helen didn’t want him, he would have left to keep her safe. His enemies wouldn’t have used her against him if he was no longer a problem.

But Helen did want him. She loved him, beyond all reason.

“Whatever will you do?”

John feels his lips twitch. Aside from keeping house and devoting the majority of his time to ensuring Helen’s happiness—that she never regrets choosing him, he really isn’t sure. He knew he didn’t have it in him, nor did he have the credentials or the qualifications, to work in the real world. At least, for most occupations.

And, truthfully, he was tired of the constant work.

Hating his life and coming home to an empty house, John had filled his life with work. Work until the point of distraction. Which meant extra jobs, far beyond working for money. He worked to kill people and time, respectively.

Decades of working seven days a week, every day of the year.

He’s looking forward to the break.

Maybe he’d pick up a hobby. He’d continue to bind books through the coldness of the winter. Maybe he’d even start to sell them or volunteer with a library to fix old tomes.

Maybe, come springtime, he’d actually open the pool in his backyard which had been closed and unused since he first moved in.

He planned to cook for her. Maybe he’d get into that. Learn to make things from scratch. To bake.

The possibilities were endless.

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly and he’s… surprisingly okay with that. The uncertainty would usually throw him for a loop, but John finds himself completely and unexpectedly happy not knowing. It was freeing.

“Are you—”

“Yes.” John interrupts before Winston can say sure . “More sure, more certain than I have ever been about anything in my life.”

Winston nods, slowly. He doesn’t understand, John knows. The old man probably won’t ever understand why John was giving up the wealth, the prestige, the permanent get-out-of-jail-free card that existed for the members of the Underworld.

“When?” He asks.

“As soon as possible. I plan on testifying Monday. I’ll meet with Viggo after and inform him of my intentions.”

“It will not be easy.”

“I don’t expect it to be. But it won’t matter. Whatever Viggo demands, I’ll do it.”

And he would. Nothing would stop him.

They sit in silence as Winston seems to digest it all. It’s odd, he thinks. He knows Winston disapproves, just as he had when John had first told him about Helen. But Winston knows that John doesn’t give a fuck about approval. No one’s opinion influenced him, save Helen’s.

He missed her.

It had only been hours since he had last held her in his arms, and he missed her.

Was this what it was to be in love? To crave the presence of another in any and every form? To hold them in your mind’s eye even when you are away?

How did people stand it, living like this?

And yet, John acknowledges, he would not give it up for the world.

“I find myself at a loss for words.” Winston says after minutes of silence. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You were ready to burn New York to the ground to find her. Ready to declare war on the High Table to get her back.” The old man shakes his head, “And you seem certain. I know your mind will not be changed. But I feel the need to ask you, once more, Jonathan: is she really worth it?”

John thinks of her smile.

The kindness in her eyes.

The warmth of her touch.

Her quick wit. Her inquisitive nature. The way she just accepted things as they were. The way she shut him down when he was starting to bullshit himself. The books he had mentioned in passing on her bedside table as she made the effort no one else had to understand him.

John nods, “She really is.”

……….

He parks the car and John feels another wave of relief wash over him. The fact that it’s over, that Helen is safe keeps hitting him again and again. And now, he’s within feet of her.

John slips out of the car, admiring for the first time since they moved to the Vermont safehouse how bright the stars were when there were no lights around.

The front door opens and Marcus steps out, his bag in his hand.

“I take it everything went well?”

John nods. “You leaving?”

Marcus nods back, closing the door behind him. “After everything, I figured you two could probably use some time alone.”

He’s grateful for Marcus’ reasoning. While John had no intention of kicking Marcus out, he’s right. The only thing John wants to do is wrap Helen up in his arms and never let her go.

“Thank you.” He says, “For everything. I’ll never be able to re—”

“Don’t.” Marcus shakes his head. “I was happy to do it. More for her sake than for yours. You’re still kind of a dick but… she makes you almost tolerable.”

John huffs out a laugh, “Who would have thought.”

“That the only person capable of taking you down was a therapist who can barely form a sentence fragment without coffee?” Marcus exhales in disbelief. “Mind-boggling. Call me when you two get back to the city.”

“Will do.” John promises as Marcus throws his duffle into the trunk of his car as he makes his way up the short stairs and into the cottage.

John slips off his suit jacket, hanging it by the door. He undoes the buttons on his vest, one by one, as he walks down the hall towards the living room. He tugs that off, too, draping it over the couch.

She’s not in the living room or the kitchen. He continues down the hall towards their bedroom. The door is open and, sure enough, Helen is in bed. Her back leans against the headboard, a book is open in her hand.

John leans against the door, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt.

Before him is a sight he could spend an eternity gazing in wonder at. Her glasses have slipped down the bridge of her nose as she reads. He watches as she reaches for her bookmark without looking up, turning the page as she inserts it.

Without a glance, she smiles, “Hi honey, how was your day?” She asks as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He loves her for it. For making him feel some semblance of normality amidst the bullshit and the chaos.

John swallows even as his lips twitch in amusement. “Oh, you know. Bitch of a commute. Faked a powerful man’s death. Tried my hand at politics. Not a fan. Then I took down a mafia boss.”

She sets her book aside before removing her glasses. Helen scans him up and down, assessing for injuries.

His heart swells with love and adoration. It consumes him and makes it almost difficult to breathe. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with all these emotions flowing through him.

And, like she can sense he’s overwhelmed, Helen stands up. She crosses the room, her dark eyes gazing into him.

He wonders if she can see his soul. And if she can, will she change her mind about him? Will she realize how truly terrible, how awful he is?

But as he looks into those brown eyes, all he sees reflected back is love.

She loves him, he thinks, even though he doesn’t deserve it. He was a despicable human being. One who had dragged her into the depths of Hell. Even still, she never wavered.

Helen was stronger than he ever hoped to be.

And she loved him. Despite everything.

It staggers him.

Helen reaches him and he cannot help but fall to his knees before her. His arms wrap around her middle, seemingly of their own accord, and he buries his face against her stomach. John’s breath escapes him in a shudder as her arms come up around him, holding him.

She strokes his hair and he can barely hold back a sob.

“I love you, John.”

And, fuck it all, the dam breaks.

He’d lost her, this week.

Someone had taken her, stolen her from her bed. Had hurt her to get to him. Had put a bounty on her head for the sole purpose of manipulating him, simultaneously activating agents to find her and kill his beloved.

Verdugo, who promised to make it quick.

Kate, who would have obliterated Helen until there was nothing left.

The kids in the alley, looking to make a name for themselves, would have killed her.

Along with the hundreds of others who had searched for her, even idly.

He had spent a week feeling out of control, out of his depth. Unsure of how to save her, hating himself for putting her into that position. Terrified that one wrong move could lead to her death.

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, aware that his tears are soaking into her shirt.

She steps back, only to drop to her knees, too. Her arms wrap around him in a tight hug as he rests his head at the crook of her neck. A hand comes up to cradle his head.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She assures him.

He swallows, heavily. He’s not sure when he last cried but it had to have been decades.

“It’s my fault…”

The arm around his back tightens and she turns her face to his head.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t… didn’t protect you better… and---”

“Hey,” the hand on his head moves to his cheek and she leans back to look at him. Her thumb strokes a tear, “You didn’t know. You had no reason to suspect that I would be targeted. But you know what?” Her fingers massage his neck, “I’m glad I was.”

He tilts his head in disbelief.

“If DeLuca hadn’t have taken me,” she says softly, “I would have seen you for an hour this week. And an hour next. And the week after that. And that would be it. I would have loved you from afar because that’s all I could do.

“But now,” she runs her fingers down his face, “I can hold you. And kiss you. And love you. And that is more than worth the price of spending a couple uncomfortable days locked in a basement and a couple more hidden away from the world.”

John shakes his head, because she is unreal sometimes. “You deserve so much be—”

“ We don’t get to decide what we deserve, John. That’s never been up to us.” She echoes what she had told him that day in her office. Hours before she had been taken. “But we do get some say in how we’re going to live.”

John finds himself swallowing, his breath hitching as he tries to breathe in. “And how are we going to live?”

“Well,” Helen says with a soft smile, “We’re going to start by hiding away for the rest of the weekend. And you’re going to make good on your promise to fuck me on your tongue until I can’t scream anymore.”

He can’t help but chuckle at how serious she sounds but fuck . Yeah, he’s definitely doing that.

“And then, we’re going to go home. And instead of picking my lock to sneak inside and watch me sleep, you’re going to fall asleep next to me. And instead of leaving before daylight, you’re going to wake up with me. Every day.

“We’ll take weekend trips to Vermont, every now and then. I’ll make you go antiquing with me.” He laughs at that. Helen smiles back, continuing, “And I’ll make you take me to that other house you’ve got in Maine.”

“It’s on a lake.” He tells her, thinking she might like that. He’ll buy a boat. Or a few, unsure if she’d prefer a motorboat or something like a kayak. Whatever she decides, she’ll have. She’ll never want for anything so long as he is breathing.

Helen moves so that she is high on her knees. Her hands reach to cup either side of his face and she leans in to press her lips to his forehead.

“We’re going to have a really good life.” She promises and fuck, he believes her. “And we’re going to be so fucking happy.”

She kisses her way down his face, slowly. Tenderly.

Her lips reach his. How, he thinks, can a kiss be so gentle? So different than anything he’s ever experienced.

It was glorious when she kissed him passionately. It drove him wild when her teeth nipped at his lips or her tongue greedily sucked at his own.

But she’s being so soft that it might very well break him again.

She didn’t look at him and see the Boogeyman. Even knowing who he was, she didn’t let it influence her opinion of him.

He felt human in her arms, in her eyes.

He loves her for it. Among the plethora of reasons that he loved and adored her.

John wraps his arms under her thighs, rising to his feet, and pulling her up with ease.

She kisses the corner of his mouth as he carries her over to the bed. “I love you,” she whispers as he lays her down.

They both undress, taking their time.

The initial desperation has faded and while John is certain it will come back again, he is more than content to take it slow.

When they are both naked, John revels in the warmth of her skin. He kisses his way around her body, allowing his hands the time to memorize every curve, dip, and swell of her body. And she lets him, like she knows how badly he needs this.

And she probably does, he thinks. She’s always been in his head.

Helen’s hand reaches the top of his head, stroking back his hair as he kisses every inch of skin he can reach from his place atop of her.

His open-mouth grazes across her collarbone and John soaks in the way her hand tightens in his hair, her sharp intake of breath as his teeth scrape against her skin. He wonders what other sounds he can coax from her body… He’ll spend forever finding out.

John kisses her lips again. How addictive that feeling, that taste has become.

One hand tilts her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss while his other stretches down her perfect body, dipping between her thighs. He cups her core, feeling the warmth radiating from within her. He dips a finger between her folds. She’s soaking and it’s all for him .

He kisses her harder, feeling his lips bruise as he gently circles his clit with his finger.

She moans into his mouth and he swallows it down.

I love you , he thinks, and has to remind himself that he can say that now. He doesn’t have to keep it bottled in. He wonders how long it will take until he can say it without hesitation. Until it spills as easily from his lips as it comes to echo in his mind.

“I love you, Hels.” He tells her, kissing down her jaw.

“John!” She cries out as he continues to toy with her sensitive clit. He reaches down, coating his fingers in her slick heat before pressing them into her opening. His thumb takes over rolling over the sensitive bundles of nerves.

Helen whimpers, her nails digging into his back. He nips at her throat with his teeth. She’s marked him well enough. Now it’s his turn.

He wants to claim her. To leave his mark all over her so that anyone who sees her will have no doubt that she is taken. One day, he swears to himself that he’ll put a ring on her finger, but until then, he’ll be content with this.

More than content.

He sucks at her neck and plays with her clit until she is a moaning, writhing mess. Before she can reach her release, however, he removes his fingers from her pussy and brings them to his lips.

Helen shudders as she watches him suck her essence from his fingers.

His own cock twitches at the taste.

When he is done, she grabs his hair and yanks him back for a kiss. She sucks on his tongue, tasting herself and he’s never been harder in his life.

John takes his heavy cock in hand and brings it to her entrance. He pushes inside slowly, inch by inch. Letting himself focus on every sensation. The way her pussy yields to him, clenching around him. The way her stomach tightens and her breath stutters. Her grip around him.

He closes his eyes as he finds himself completely buried inside of her. His hips cannot go any further.

The hitch in her breath delights him. John draws back out, reveling in the soft changes in her breath, before he drives back in. Helen cries out and he kisses her neck. Her pussy tightens around him at the sensation.

He’s never needed anyone the way he needs her.

He knows he never will again.

This woman is everything to him. She is it for him. And he’ll love her with every fiber, every atom of his being until he dies. And then beyond.

“Fuck, baby!” She cranes her neck, giving him more access.

He makes a mental note of how much she loves the attention he’s paying to her throat. He nips and she arches her back, crying out yet again. Clenching around him, again.

John rolls his hips, careful to ensure steady pressure to her clit.

Because it’s about her. It’s always been about her.

He lifts his head, turning her head back to him so he can kiss her yet again. Languidly drowning in her as he takes his time fucking her, bringing her to the edge yet again.

Helen swears, her nails biting into him. Her hips meet his, grinding against him as she moans. His thrusts increase in speed and John feels Helen’s entire body seem to tighten.

And all at once, she breaks around him, crying out as a wave of pleasure slams into her. The way her pussy throbs around him is enough to make him lose his resolve and he soon finds himself spilling inside of her with a loud groan.

His eyes lose their focus as his head drops down to the pillow, nestling in the crook of her neck as he breathes heavily. The rush of immediate pleasure leaves him but he is left feeling glorious as he lies on top of her body, still buried inside of her, still feeling the aftershocks of her own orgasm milking him.

With an exhale, he raises his head to look back at her. Her beautiful eyes gazing at him.

Helen reaches up. She pushes back the hair which had fallen into his face before wrapping her hand around to the back of his head, guiding his forehead to rest on hers.

“I love you, John.”

“I love you, too.” He says, swallowing back the emotions that overwhelm him.

And he’s never going to let her forget it. She will never have the opportunity to forget or doubt that he loves her. That she is his everything.

What she said earlier was true: they were going to be so fucking happy.

And he was going to do this right.

John kisses her cheek, “How about I buy you dinner?”

Helen smiles back, “After all this, you better.”

......

One more chapter of this installment to come

thanks to @meetmeinthematinee for reviewing and editing <3

#john wick talk #john wick #john wick fanfiction #john x helen wick #helen wick #john wick prequel #overheard at the continental #the Matrix has queue #john wick fanfic #john wiction

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Gimme Love, 3/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Hey, guys! I hope yall are enjoying this fic so far! Throw me a like please if you do. TW for this chapter: Grief // Homophobia

2003 High School. The bane of my existence. Just as I thought elementary and middle school were terrible, High School really was something else. From my childhood therapy sessions, I learned to conceal my anger, avoid freakouts, and channel my emotions into other things. It was good for me, yeah. But it also made me a more reserved person. Things still made me angry, the other kids at school being a primary key to that. But I never defended myself. Ever. Of course, Jujubee always had my back. Only in later years did I learn to appreciate the times she'd yell at the other kids, telling them to fuck off and whatnot. But back then, I wished she hadn't. It only drew more negative attention. All I wanted was to get through those tough years. I would come home a lot, look at pictures of myself as a child. And I'd be so mad because only then did I see that I wasn't an ugly kid. I was adorable. But, God clearly had favourites 'cause puberty did not do me any favours. If only I had grown up in a more modern time when no one gave a shit about looks. When people were outspoken about the cruelty that came with shaming someone for their looks. When people were more aware of the psychological damage that could do. Again, God had favourites. From years of my eyesight getting worse and needing a new pair of glasses every time I went to the eye doctor, I had thick-rimmed frames that made me look straight out of the 70s. And the lenses made my eyes look huge. I looked like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. My hair was bigger but full of split ends due to lack of giving a shit about it. I begged Mom to let me bleach it blonde. She always straight up refused. I had braces for a whole year which, yeah, many people had braces, but one time while answering a question in class, I drooled. And no one let me hear the end of it. And makeup wasn't something I really fucked with. I tried it once, safe and sound in my own bedroom, and it looked woeful. Instead of working to get better, I accepted defeat in that I would always be ugly. "I'm serious, girl. The foundation was so bad. And it was too dark." I ranted to Jujubee as we headed to the bus stop. I was trying to smoke my cigarette as fast as I could before getting there. Mom never knew, and what she didn't know couldn't kill her. Of course, I didn't just go into the store and buy them myself. Instead, I took one a day from my Grandpa's supply. "Girl, you gotta test it first." She pointed out, adjusting her bag straps. "Juju, I got the lightest colour they had. I don't fucking get it. Every other girl in the school uses it. Maybelline shouldn't sell this shit." "You just need to find a different brand." She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me closer, "OK, don't tell my Mom, but I tried some of her MAC shit the other day, and my skin looked fucking flawless." She let me go, took my cigarette from me, taking a toke herself. "Well, how am I supposed to get my hands on that?" I took the cig back. "I don't see any MAC stores around here." "Oh, yeah? Well, you know what your Other World self would do?" Jujubee's brow raised, a sweet grin appearing on her mischievous face. "She would say fuck school, hop on the next bus to Cleveland and go straight to the MAC store." Blowing out some smoke, I looked at her, "Well, Other World you wouldn't be encouraging that sort of behaviour." "No, she wouldn't 'cause she'd be the first on the bus." Jujubee countered. "And she'd start the sing-song." "Yeah, well other world me would out-sing you 'cause she's a star. She's a fucking diva, bitch. Mariah Carey has nothing on her." We were too caught up in our fantasy world; we almost missed the vehicle driving past us. Only when we saw the cackling faces of the boys at the back of the bus did realisation take over. We were going to miss the bus. "Fuck." I uttered, watching the guys still flipping us off as they moved further and further away. To make matters worse, a car pulled up beside us. And of fucking course, it was Trevor Preston, the Captain of the football team. His two sidekicks were in the

back seat, Logan and Noah. "Aw, look, guys. The geeks just missed the bus." Trevor fake whined. In these situations, I just shut down. I thought it was for the best at the time, but fuck, if I could go back and punch that guy. "You know what? Why don't you mind your own fucking business, Trevor?" Jujubee squinted her eyes at him. “Wow, little fiesty, Juju.” He continued, "How about this? We all say sorry, and we can both ride with us to school." 'Hell fucking no.' I thought. "Oh yeah? And what's the catch?" Jujubee raised a brow. "You let me feel your tits," Trevor smirked, his two cronies snickered. "Ah, there it is. I thought that was what your pea-sized brain would come up with." Jujubee nodded her head. "So, hey, Brianna," Trevor shifted his attention, "You're awfully quiet. Don't I at least get a hello?" I was still frozen, feeling my anxiety brewing within. "Dude, don't be so sensitive. You know, if she opens her mouth, she'll just drool all over herself." Logan added, the three axe wounds beginning to snicker again. I felt like I should have at least opened my mouth to prove them wrong, or maybe spit on Trevor's car. But still, I just stood there. "Trevor, if you don't fuck off right now, I'm gonna key your car." Jujubee threatened. "Juju." I tried to stop her. "Wouldn't even have the chance, sweetheart. Either of you bitches come near my car; you'll never walk the halls again." How gentleman-like, threatening two girls. Funny how our safety was the price to pay for a car. Oh, men. "Keep that in mind," Trevor concluded before driving away with dumb and dumber. "You didn't have to do that." I looked at Jujubee. "I'm sorry they're such assholes." She replied, taking my hand in hers. I shook it off, however. "No, I mean, I wish you wouldn't do that." Jujubee crossed her brows, "what? So I'm supposed to sit there and just take it? No fucking way." "I know. But," I paused, "they kinda scare me. You know?" "Brie, there's nothing more pathetic than a man sweating over the safety of his ride." She retook my hand, "Don't be afraid of a cunt like him." "I mean, I can try not to. But I can't make any promises." I shrugged. "Anyway, what's the plan? How are we supposed to get there on time?" Jujubee was silent for a moment before replying with, "my Mom?" Her Mom did end up giving us a ride, much to my dismay. I would have preferred to take the day off. Or better yet, to just fucking drop out altogether. But Jujubee was always there to reassure me - I adored that bitch. I would have fucking taken a bullet for her. I would like to say that it wasn't just Jujubee and me, that we had a group of more friends. But these guys, I never really counted them as friends. A year prior, we both decided to try and improve our social lives by joining a club. The only one that would accept us was the chess club. Every other member was a guy, and they were nerds. Not that Jujubee and I minded. However, the problem was that they only let us in because...well, do I even need to explain? "So, Brianna," Jimmy decided to approach me at the end of one session, licking his hand and sweeping his hair from his face. "Because I beat you twice today, what do I get?" "...Excuse me?" "My prize. What do I get??" He put an arm around my shoulders. I was puzzled, "Uh, you can have my chicken nuggets at lunch." His grin was beginning to disappear. "Oh, I was thinking of something else. A kiss, maybe?" I felt bad for doing it, but my fight or flight response told me to just run from the room. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but these guys were just on another level of thirst. And it wasn't just me who they flirted with. Jujubee had informed me of a time Arnold convinced her to make out with him. She was all for it until she realised how awful of a kisser he was. And as the boys became more desperate, we decided that we were better off alone. Again, I was so grateful for Jujubee. I was surprised she stuck around, considering she had seen me at my worst when we were still so young. How the fuck had she not developed

issues of her own? Jujubee was the number one reason I even found the strength to just get up in the morning, drag my ass to school, and do my work - Well, aside from wanting to get good grades so I could go to a good college. The second reason? Blair. Unlike me, she was thriving. Our lives were totally cliche - me being the kid who grew up to be the nerd who only speaks when it's to answer a question. And Blair, growing up to be the head cheerleader. And I was still very much in love with her. What a fucking cliche. I avoided Blair at all costs for several reasons;

differing social circles (in my case, lack of),

her boyfriend, who was the Captain of the soccer team and wasn't shy about giving me and Jujubee grief,

her friends,

and, of course, my massive crush on her.

So, why was Blair the second reason as to why I dragged myself to school? Her smile. That was enough. As much as I tried to avoid her, the world decided to do a big "fuck you" on me and sometimes put us into situations together. And every time, I'd be internally freaking out. The worst was when we were both 16. It was that time of the year when the school would invite someone to subject us to the most humiliating moment of our lives. How the fuck were you supposed to put a condom on a banana without bursting out laughing? How the fuck were you supposed to sit there and keep a straight face when the educator used words like 'flaps'? We filed into the class, Jujubee and me taking seats at the back of the room. We knew this was going to be hilarious, so best to avoid the attention of the teacher. "Juju, I know you are dying to make jokes during this, but I'm begging you. Please don't." I spoke quietly to her as other students filed in. "But you know I'm going to, right?" Jujubee smirked, putting her bag on the ground. "No. We wanna keep a low profile. If we laugh, we draw attention, and then we risk being singled out. You know? We'll be at the front of the class demonstrating whatever this bitch asks us." Obviously, I was referring to putting condoms on bananas and the like. Juju, however, raised a brow, "I wouldn't mind that, babe. Don't worry. We won't need to take our clothes off." I stared at her for a few seconds, unable to think of how to respond to that. Jujubee winked, and I forced myself to look away. "That's not what I meant." Blair strolled in with Denali and Rosé, already I could feel my stomach knotting. They went to sit together somewhere in the middle. "Ugh, nope. I don't think so, ladies." Ah, Miss Jaida Hall, if only I could have warned you not to say what you were about to say. Somehow Blair and the two others knew she was speaking to them. She continued, "This is an important class, and I'm not gonna have you all laughing and snickering during it." She had a point. The three girls usually whispered to each other in class, giggling about all sorts of shit. It was never anything malicious about the lesson or teachers, just inside jokes with each other, pretty harmless stuff. But it pissed the teachers off so much. "You can't be serious, right?" Denali replied, clearly scandalised. "Very serious, actually." Ms Hall nodded, "Denali, sit with Brian. Rosé, with Gigi. Blair, with Brianna." I grabbed Jujubee by the wrist, the pressure making her squeak. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. Blair was not rolling her eyes as she made her way to the back towards me. This was not fucking happening. As instructed, Jujubee stood up and let Blair sit down, moving to sit somewhere else. I was alone with the one person I tried my hardest to avoid. She slouched down in her chair, arms folded like she was already over it. I wanted so badly to ask if she was OK. But I couldn't bring myself to. And as the lights turned off and the sex-ed lady pressed play on the video player, I wished I had said something. As the way too enthusiastic narrator explained step by step the act of sexual intercourse, I tried hiding the blush on my face with my hair. I tried so hard to focus on what I was being taught. The truth was, I was still a virgin, as were many of the others in the room, I'm sure. But unlike them, I had no idea how sex worked. It wasn't something I ever gave time to think about. I felt a tapping on my hand. My body tensed as I glanced to the side. Blair was looking at the screen, then at me, then her fingers brushed against my hand. I stared back, unsure of what was happening but also knowing full well what she was doing. She leaned closer and pressed her lips on mine. … OK, that's not what happened. Life wasn't a movie. This was the beginning of the fantasies. Was I ashamed because I was thinking about Blair like that? Or was I ashamed that I enjoyed thinking of Blair like that? "This is ridiculous," Blair whispered. Was I supposed to say something back? "What do you mean?" I

whispered back. "Do they actually think we're that dumb? We all know how sex works. We don't need this stupid class." Blair rolled her eyes. I almost told her that I belonged to the small percentage that didn't know. But I stopped myself. I couldn't bear her knowing that information. Instead, I went with the awkward, "haha. Yeaaahhhh…" For the rest of the film, we sat in silence. Still trying to focus on the screen. Not the absolute stunner sitting next to me. And as if by magic, the video ended. I wanted to say I was relieved, but I couldn't lie; what I learned from the film left me nauseous. He puts his hoo-ha in her what, now?? "Well, that was really cool and hip, right?" The educator enthused. I cringed internally. No woman wearing a crucifix necklace and ankle-length skirt has the right to use words like 'cool' and 'hip'. "I know it's probably all so confusing. So that's why I'm here to answer any of your questions, dudes and dudettes." Already, one of the boys put a hand up. "Go ahead, homie." "What about the other hole?" He said with a straight face before his friends started laughing. He laughed back as he fired one of them. "You know. The back door?" Ms Hall shot him the 'look'. He was toast. The sex educator fixed her hair quite uncomfortable, "Well, there's a reason that is an out hole, young man. I warn all of you, do not go down that road. You will get aids and die. Now, does anybody else have a question?" The educator rambled, fixing her hair awkwardly. I heard the rustling of clothes beside me, and glancing around, Blair had her hand straight up in the air. "Yes, sweetheart?" Sex Ed lady pointed to her. "OK, so this is interesting and all, but I was just wondering, what about non-heterosexual sex?" Her brows knit for a moment. I looked around at her now. The breath caught in my throat. "I'm sorry?" Sex Ed lady asked. "You know. Man on man. Girl on girl. What about all of that?" Blair raised a brow. "I mean, you gotta know there's more than just heterosexual people out there. Maybe some even in this room right now." "Blair." Ms Hall began. "Because, if you disagree, then that's ridiculous. Oh, and if you think aids is some kind of death sentence, then you seriously need to educate yourself." Sex ed lady looked appalled, her Christian beliefs quite clearly threatened. "That's it. Get out." Ms Hall stood up. Blair huffed, pushing her seat back, lifted her bag and left the room, Ms Hall following behind. "OK. So, any other questions? Reasonable questions only, please." Jujubee was looking over her shoulder at me now, sharing the same expression I did. Thank God for lunch next period. Jujubee and I were hiding at the back of the school, in an alley between the building itself and the old workshops. The perfect hiding place for a smoke and to freak the fuck out about specific events. "Juju, she knows. She knows I'm a lesbian. She knows I like her." I paced. "I'm moving. That's it." I stopped. "But why would she speak up for me of all people? It doesn't make sense." My eyes widened. "Unless she's also a lesbian. I mean, that makes sense, right?" Jujubee had been sitting on the wall, patiently listening to my manic ramblings. The first few minutes, she was just as astounded. But the more I theorised, rambling on and on, she was over it. "I highly doubt that considering the boyfriend." "Then she must know. Why else would she say it? I highly doubt there are other gays in that class. Speaking of which, I had no idea lesbians could have sex like; how does that work. I'm gonna look into that somehow. But getting back to the point, if she did know, why would she speak out for me of all people?" My ramblings were non-stop. I tried my best to avoid Blair for the rest of the day, not that I could, considering we were both in the same last period. Blair's outburst was the talk of the school. I wasn't sure if it was a positive response or not. The only thing I did know was Trevor was pissed. "Brie, look." Jujubee tapped me. I turned from my locker and looked where everyone else seemed to be

looking. Just down the corridor, Trevor was standing over Blair, their conversation clearly heated. People were shamelessly moving closer, Jujubee following in their path. "Juju, don't," I whispered. But she didn't listen. I went after her as if it would stop her. "Trevor, this isn't that big of a deal," Blair said. "Not a big deal? Blair, do you know what the guys are saying? They think you're gonna dump me for a girl. Do you know how humiliating that is?" Trevor held a hand to his chest "And what if I did?" Blair challenged. The few people standing around cooed with excitement. "Oh, please. Don't get all cocky now that you have an audience." Trevor pointed. But Blair took a step closer to him. "What, 'cause you know you're the one who looks like an idiot? Maybe if you weren't so insecure, you'd know I would never do that to you." "Don't call me an idiot." Trevor lowered his tone, choosing purposely to ignore her reassurance. "Fine. But don't criticise me for a valid question I asked in a class you weren't even a part of. It's none of your business, no one's business for that matter." Blair bit back. "I can do what I want, Blair." "OK. Whatever." Blair brushed past him. Trevor quickly spun around, grabbing her arm. "No, we're not done having this conversation." My stomach twisted. "Let go of my arm, Trevor." Blair tugged, her voice cracking. Trevor did as was told now that the air was thick with tension, "We are not done talking," he stressed. Blair took a step back, "Yeah, we are, actually," and she turned to walk away. "If you walk away right now, we're finished." Trevor threatened. It was as if time was at a standstill, waiting for her reaction. But at the same time, it felt as though time was counting down. Like we were in a competition show. The contestant has to decide before time runs out, while the audience yells, 'DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!' No one was shouting, but you could feel everyone's excitement. Blair's lip curled upwards. "OK. Fine by me." And, finally, she walked off. The people were cooing with excitement again. "Shut up!" Trevor shouted. I grabbed Jujubee by the shoulder and ushered her back. Trevor kicked his locker, the thud echoing through the halls. That was the last straw. Knowing Trevor, he'd take his anger out on us. It was time to flee the scene. It was all Jujubee wanted to talk about for the rest of the day. Now I knew how she felt during my smoke break. But I couldn't blame her. The scene played in my head over and over again, leading to so many questions. Was there more to this breakup? Did he grab Blair like that all the time? What would happen now? Would she find a new guy? A girl, maybe? I came to the conclusion that Blair and Trevor's breakup was neither good nor bad. Bad because, as I said before, now he had more pent up anger from the humiliation of being so publicly dumped. Therefore, Jujubee and I would most likely be subject to more harassment. Good, because maybe Blair did like girls. Maybe there was still some little chance for us to be together. But if we were going to be together, there was one issue; I still had no fucking idea how lesbian sex worked. Cut to later that night, I'm in my room, sitting in front of my computer. I needed to distract myself from my thoughts of the breakup. While the scratchy dial-up tones emitted the machine, I psyched myself up. Even though I knew sex was normal to learn about at that age, it was still daunting. With shaky hands, I searched 'lesbian sex'. And fuck was it a mistake. What I wanted was educational articles, guides, etc. And what I got was porn. I watched all but a few minutes, all the painfully bad acting scenes that took place before the main event. Upon hearing the first moan, I clicked out as fast as I could. Looking behind me, Piggie was just playing with a stuffed animal on my bed. "You saw that, right?" He looked at me with perked ears. I still felt judged, so I opened my bedroom door and let him out. I needed to be exact. 'How do lesbians have sex?' And Brianna Caldwell was never the

same. My mind was opened that night. This was no mistake. This was a surprise. I couldn't look away from the computer screen, no matter how slow the Internet connection was. All of this information was all too much but not enough at the same time. And it made me feel less nauseated than I felt after watching that stupid video in class. And I built up the courage to go back to that porn site. And I watched every damn second. Then I watched another one. And another. And just one more 'cause why the fuck not? My bedroom door opened. "Brianna, I'm ordering - -" "Get out," I shouted, closing the site down like my life depended on it. But she stood there for a few seconds, eyes wide and hand still on the door frame. "Honey, are you - -" "Mom, oh my god. Can you just - -" I couldn't even form a proper sentence. She gave an apologetic look and closed the door. But she remained on the other side. "I just wanted you to know that I'm ordering pizza for Grandpa and me. Do you want some?" My forehead was in my hand now. "Yes." "What kind?" "Just…" I wanted to shout, "Pepperoni." And with that, she left. But that wasn't the end of it. When the food arrived, I waited a few minutes before going downstairs to grab a few slices. Grandpa was in the living room watching an old rerun of The A-Team. But she was there, in the kitchen, as if she was waiting for me. "Honey, look. I know you're getting to that age where you're curious about certain things and - -" "Mom, no. Please, don't do this." I whined. "I know. I know. I just wanted to let you know that this is natural, and…" she continued to deliver the same talk we all got in class. My eyes were wide, face red with humiliation. -_-_-_- 2020 I picked up a slice of pepperoni pizza, instantly reminded of the traumatic event. OK, maybe that was too strong of a word to use. But of course, you are going to dread the thought of that time your parent talked to you about sex. I walked into the living room, pizza slice in hand, trying not to dwell on the memory. "So, Brianna. Any update on the love life?" Tamisha asked. I loved that bitch; being one of Mom's closest friends, she was present for most of my life. But she always had a tendency to ask questions I wasn't up for answering. I took a bite from my pizza and answered with a full mouth, "dry." "Girl, you're almost 40." She continued. I was ready to challenge her because I was actually just 33 when Mom took her turn to speak. "Yeah, get yourself a man and make me a Grandma already." She wasn't serious. She knew I hated these types of talks, but that didn't stop her from encouraging the others. The funny thing about the time she caught me watching porn, she never clocked it was girl on girl. Of all the years I've been on this planet, I hadn't given her a clue that I was a lesbian. Would I ever tell her? I didn't see the point. From previous failed relationships and being too busy with my job, I wouldn't end up with someone anyway. But of course, I'd make an exception for a certain someone. Monét poured the first round of shots. I already knew I'd hate myself the next day. I wasn't drunk already. Just sort of buzzed. But that changed within an hour. I was hammered. Mom, Monét and all her friends were singing all the old songs in the living room. I was out in the kitchen, trying to drink 8 glasses of water. I only managed 3. Piggie ran in and put his paws up on my knee. "There he is. My baby. My fucking son." I slid down to the ground and let him sit in my lap. "How is your night going?" Just great, Brianna! Anyway, how about that Blair girl, huh? Piggie's non-existent voice said. "Oh yeah," my eyes narrowed. I unlocked my phone and opened up Facebook. And I bravely searched up her name. I say bravely because it does take some balls to go and stalk your crushes social media accounts. All it took to fuck everything up was the slip of a finger, and before you know it, you've liked a post or sent a friend request. "Let's do some digging, Piggie." I cuddled him. Immediately, she was the top result, with Jujubee

being the only mutual friend. "Yeah, girl. Infiltration." I commented as I clicked into her profile. And then her profile picture. "Holy shit." She hadn't aged. She still looked as young and radiant as she did back in high school. "What do you think, Piggie?" I showed him the screen. He glanced at it before tucking his head under his arms. The enthusiasm. I rolled my eyes. I looked at her info. 'Single'. Promising. Scrolling down to her timeline, I noticed she didn't post a lot. Fair enough. Facebook was becoming a dead site in recent years. There were just your average Facebook posts, sharing giveaway posts, a post from an old lady saying, 'Blair, this is Granny. Could you go to Walmart and get me some applesauce? Love granny xx', a shared post from a guy called George Miller. And my finger stopped scrolling upon seeing Blair holding a baby. "Oh God, we've encountered our first obstacle, Piggie," I whined. I clicked into the comments. That George Miller guy commented, 'congrats, Blair!' She replied, 'thank you, but she's my cousin's lol'. "Thank you, Jesus." I put my phone down for a moment to put my hand up to the good lord. I scrolled some more, seeing many inspirational quotes, a link to Adore You by Harry Styles. And a picture of her. With that George Miller guy. With his arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her temple. I could feel my heart sink the more I studied it. Yeah, I knew Blair and I were never meant to be anyway. But it was still upsetting. Relax. They could be friends. Yeah, that's right. Friends hold each other and act all affectionate, right?? I cuddle with Jujubee sometimes. That doesn't mean anything. Right? I needed evidence, just anything, to make it not true. I scrolled some more. There was a video, she was sitting on her sofa, with a girl playing the guitar sitting on the other end. "I've been running races on empty, Pour it up 'cause my cup so empty. Gotta make time for the real me. I've been running, I've been running on empty." And my nerves were settled again. I had only heard Blair sing a few times. She and her friends would pretend they were famous singers in early elementary years, and she'd always be the best. Then another time was in high school, at the winter talent show. I specifically remember it being A moment like this by Kelly Clarkson. It was unreal. 'Jujubee 💋💅🏽 is typing…' I clicked into Snapchat before she even had a chance to type the whole message. "Do you remember Jujubee?" I asked Piggie. Again, he was silent. 'I hope you're having fun, babe ❤ lv u'. "Thanks," was all I could manage to type. A shadow cast over me. I looked up to see Monét join me on the ground. "Hey, girl." She greeted me. "Hi, Aunt Monét." I smiled. Piggie hopped off my lap and onto hers. "Aunt Monét? Honey, you haven't called me that since middle school." She smiled. I returned the smile, only mine probably looking goofy. "I'm just wasted." "I noticed. No more shots for you anyway." She noted, taking a drink from her own bottle. "Anyway, how's the project?" "We got fucking Ed Sheeran involved." I then cursed myself internally for bringing it up. "I heard. Your Mom was telling me. Ugh, girl, why him? Why not someone like…" she paused to think, "like Beyonce. Or Lady Gaga." "OK, man-hater." I quipped, reaching over to pet Piggie. "Not true. Not all men are bad." Monét pointed out. "Speaking of which, when are you getting yourself one?" I could have given her the usual 'I don't have time for men's talk. But the alcohol said no. "Monét, I like girls." And I felt no shame in saying it. A moment of silence fell between us before she asked, "for real?" "Yeah." I nodded. "Does anyone else know?" "Yeah. Juju. And Piggie probably." I replied, leaving one more name out for the sole purpose I didn't want to get into that. "And Mom?" "Nope." She nodded. "I guess this is one of these aunty-niece confidentiality things?" "Uh-huh." I smiled. Bless Aunt Monét. "Well, no matter who you live, we still love you." She laughed for a moment before taking another drink. I knew

she was right. Maybe coming out to Mom wasn't such a bad idea. "You know what, Brianna?" She paused, "Grandpa would be so proud of you, right?" My smile slowly began to drop. Fuck, the touchy subject. "Oh, I...thanks." I thought the change in my mood was hard to miss, but Monét clearly had. "You and I ain't ever talked about him since...you know." "OK," I said quietly, feeling like my chest was a fist, beginning to clench tighter and tighter. "And sometimes, it's just good to look back on - -" "I gotta go." I quickly stood up, feeling the dark fog already come over me. I rushed from the room, my aunty calling my name and apologising. I avoided going into the living room, rushing up the stairs and racing for the bathroom. As soon as the door was locked, I let myself crumble, my face hidden beneath shaking hands, a cry clogged in my throat just begging to belt out. Mom would definitely hear it. I wasn't going to ruin her day. Absolutely not. Tags: rpdr fanfiction // s10 // as5 // miz cracker // jujubee // blair st clair // blair x cracker // denali foxx // rose // fluff // coming of age // hurt/comfort // lesbian au // highschool au // grinder // tw grief // tw homophobia [Cover image here] AN: Hey, guys! I hope yall are enjoying this fic so far! Throw me a like please if you do. TW for this chapter: Grief // Homophobia [read more] 2003 High School. The bane of my existence. Just as I thought elementary and middle school were terrible, High School really was something else. From my childhood therapy sessions, I learned to conceal my anger, avoid freakouts, and channel my emotions into other things. It was good for me, yeah. But it also made me a more reserved person. Things still made me angry, the other kids at school being a primary key to that. But I never defended myself. Ever. Of course, Jujubee always had my back. Only in later years did I learn to appreciate the times she'd yell at the other kids, telling them to fuck off and whatnot. But back then, I wished she hadn't. It only drew more negative attention. All I wanted was to get through those tough years. I would come home a lot, look at pictures of myself as a child. And I'd be so mad because only then did I see that I wasn't an ugly kid. I was adorable. But, God clearly had favourites 'cause puberty did not do me any favours. If only I had grown up in a more modern time when no one gave a shit about looks. When people were outspoken about the cruelty that came with shaming someone for their looks. When people were more aware of the psychological damage that could do. Again, God had favourites. From years of my eyesight getting worse and needing a new pair of glasses every time I went to the eye doctor, I had thick-rimmed frames that made me look straight out of the 70s. And the lenses made my eyes look huge. I looked like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. My hair was bigger but full of split ends due to lack of giving a shit about it. I begged Mom to let me bleach it blonde. She always straight up refused. I had braces for a whole year which, yeah, many people had braces, but one time while answering a question in class, I drooled. And no one let me hear the end of it. And makeup wasn't something I really fucked with. I tried it once, safe and sound in my own bedroom, and it looked woeful. Instead of working to get better, I accepted defeat in that I would always be ugly. "I'm serious, girl. The foundation was so bad. And it was too dark." I ranted to Jujubee as we headed to the bus stop. I was trying to smoke my cigarette as fast as I could before getting there. Mom never knew, and what she didn't know couldn't kill her. Of course, I didn't just go into the store and buy them myself. Instead, I took one a day from my Grandpa's supply. "Girl, you gotta test it first." She pointed out, adjusting her bag straps. "Juju, I got the lightest colour they had. I don't fucking get it. Every other girl in the school uses it. Maybelline shouldn't sell this shit." "You just need to find a different brand." She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me

closer, "OK, don't tell my Mom, but I tried some of her MAC shit the other day, and my skin looked fucking flawless." She let me go, took my cigarette from me, taking a toke herself. "Well, how am I supposed to get my hands on that?" I took the cig back. "I don't see any MAC stores around here." "Oh, yeah? Well, you know what your Other World self would do?" Jujubee's brow raised, a sweet grin appearing on her mischievous face. "She would say fuck school, hop on the next bus to Cleveland and go straight to the MAC store." Blowing out some smoke, I looked at her, "Well, Other World you wouldn't be encouraging that sort of behaviour." "No, she wouldn't 'cause she'd be the first on the bus." Jujubee countered. "And she'd start the sing-song." "Yeah, well other world me would out-sing you 'cause she's a star. She's a fucking diva, bitch. Mariah Carey has nothing on her." We were too caught up in our fantasy world; we almost missed the vehicle driving past us. Only when we saw the cackling faces of the boys at the back of the bus did realisation take over. We were going to miss the bus. "Fuck." I uttered, watching the guys still flipping us off as they moved further and further away. To make matters worse, a car pulled up beside us. And of fucking course, it was Trevor Preston, the Captain of the football team. His two sidekicks were in the back seat, Logan and Noah. "Aw, look, guys. The geeks just missed the bus." Trevor fake whined. In these situations, I just shut down. I thought it was for the best at the time, but fuck, if I could go back and punch that guy. "You know what? Why don't you mind your own fucking business, Trevor?" Jujubee squinted her eyes at him. “Wow, little fiesty, Juju.” He continued, "How about this? We all say sorry, and we can both ride with us to school." 'Hell fucking no.' I thought. "Oh yeah? And what's the catch?" Jujubee raised a brow. "You let me feel your tits," Trevor smirked, his two cronies snickered. "Ah, there it is. I thought that was what your pea-sized brain would come up with." Jujubee nodded her head. "So, hey, Brianna," Trevor shifted his attention, "You're awfully quiet. Don't I at least get a hello?" I was still frozen, feeling my anxiety brewing within. "Dude, don't be so sensitive. You know, if she opens her mouth, she'll just drool all over herself." Logan added, the three axe wounds beginning to snicker again. I felt like I should have at least opened my mouth to prove them wrong, or maybe spit on Trevor's car. But still, I just stood there. "Trevor, if you don't fuck off right now, I'm gonna key your car." Jujubee threatened. "Juju." I tried to stop her. "Wouldn't even have the chance, sweetheart. Either of you bitches come near my car; you'll never walk the halls again." How gentleman-like, threatening two girls. Funny how our safety was the price to pay for a car. Oh, men. "Keep that in mind," Trevor concluded before driving away with dumb and dumber. "You didn't have to do that." I looked at Jujubee. "I'm sorry they're such assholes." She replied, taking my hand in hers. I shook it off, however. "No, I mean, I wish you wouldn't do that." Jujubee crossed her brows, "what? So I'm supposed to sit there and just take it? No fucking way." "I know. But," I paused, "they kinda scare me. You know?" "Brie, there's nothing more pathetic than a man sweating over the safety of his ride." She retook my hand, "Don't be afraid of a cunt like him." "I mean, I can try not to. But I can't make any promises." I shrugged. "Anyway, what's the plan? How are we supposed to get there on time?" Jujubee was silent for a moment before replying with, "my Mom?" Her Mom did end up giving us a ride, much to my dismay. I would have preferred to take the day off. Or better yet, to just fucking drop out altogether. But Jujubee was always there to reassure me - I adored that bitch. I would have fucking taken a bullet for her. I would like to say that it wasn't just Jujubee and me, that we had a group of more friends. But these guys, I never really counted them as

friends. A year prior, we both decided to try and improve our social lives by joining a club. The only one that would accept us was the chess club. Every other member was a guy, and they were nerds. Not that Jujubee and I minded. However, the problem was that they only let us in because...well, do I even need to explain? "So, Brianna," Jimmy decided to approach me at the end of one session, licking his hand and sweeping his hair from his face. "Because I beat you twice today, what do I get?" "...Excuse me?" "My prize. What do I get??" He put an arm around my shoulders. I was puzzled, "Uh, you can have my chicken nuggets at lunch." His grin was beginning to disappear. "Oh, I was thinking of something else. A kiss, maybe?" I felt bad for doing it, but my fight or flight response told me to just run from the room. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but these guys were just on another level of thirst. And it wasn't just me who they flirted with. Jujubee had informed me of a time Arnold convinced her to make out with him. She was all for it until she realised how awful of a kisser he was. And as the boys became more desperate, we decided that we were better off alone. Again, I was so grateful for Jujubee. I was surprised she stuck around, considering she had seen me at my worst when we were still so young. How the fuck had she not developed issues of her own? Jujubee was the number one reason I even found the strength to just get up in the morning, drag my ass to school, and do my work - Well, aside from wanting to get good grades so I could go to a good college. The second reason? Blair. Unlike me, she was thriving. Our lives were totally cliche - me being the kid who grew up to be the nerd who only speaks when it's to answer a question. And Blair, growing up to be the head cheerleader. And I was still very much in love with her. What a fucking cliche. I avoided Blair at all costs for several reasons;

differing social circles (in my case, lack of),

her boyfriend, who was the Captain of the soccer team and wasn't shy about giving me and Jujubee grief,

her friends,

and, of course, my massive crush on her.

#rpdr fanfiction #s10 #as5 #miz cracker #jujubee #blair st clair #blair x cracker #denali foxx #rosé #fluff #coming of age #hurt/comfort #lesbian au #high school au #angst #gimme love #grinder #tw grief #tw homophobia

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salt-warrior · 4 years ago

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WHEN EARTH TURNS TO ASHES

Masterlist

Chapter Two: Angel of Hell

The crisp happy music thrummed in a chirpy harmony through Kai's ears. A smile lit his face as he opened his eyes and gently turned off his alarm clock. The smile remained as he turned on his favorite rock playlist and practically danced around his shared apartment, and allowing his hips to sway to the music. He even managed to smile as he read the morning news off his phone and ate his favorite breakfast of Cocoa Puffs.

It's not as though Kaito Crown was always happy; he just normally was. He loved going to school at the nearby university. He had aced all his business classes, due to the fact he had been trained since birth to overtake Beijing Empire. He was close with his dad and loved working with him. His life was great— no, it was perfect.

Kai had been raised in wealth; his father was the most proclaimed business man throughout the entire world. His mother had been a fashion icon that outshone all others. Kai himself was loved and known by everyone. The fact that he was smart and handsome didn't help his case.

A moan escaped the nearby room, and Kai laughed as he watched his best friend stumble out of his room and into the kitchen. Kai had known Carswell Thorne since they were in the first grade. Both came from well known families and had attended the same private academy in California.

"Did you rest well, Sleeping Beauty?" Kai raised an eyebrow. Thorne threw a laser beam glare back.

"Have you ever considered turning the music down? It's only seven in the morning for stars sake, and not all of us are morning people," Thorne retorted, plunking down in the seat across from Kai with his cup of coffee.

"Well, I'm sorry that you're cranky. Are you fighting with Kate again?"

Thorne tensed up at Kai's words. "Oh," Kai sighed. "I'm sorry, Thorne."

"It's alright, Crown." Thorne smiled, tight lipped. "It was bound to happen eventually. It's just like my father said: I'm 'toxic' when it comes to relationships," he air-quoted with a scowl, and Kai grinned at him.

"Hey, you've kept me around for what— sixteen years?" Thorne rolled his eyes at Kai's words.

"Yeah, that's only because I can't seem to get rid of you, no matter how bad of a friend I am."

Kai stood from his seat, placing his bowl in the empty sink. "Cheer up, little toxin. You'll find love eventually." Kai picked up his backpack and began to walk out the door, just as Thorne called out to him.

"How'd your date go last night, since we're talking about my sad love life."

"Oh, you know," Kai shrugged, wrapping a scarf around his neck. It really wasn't that cold, as Thorne like to remind him, but Kai was a wimp. "She was nice— really nice, but not the one. Redheads aren't exactly my type."

Kai had a great record in school. He was great at making friends. He was seemingly the most outgoing person alive, but he could never seem to get a girlfriend. It wasn't like he didn't have dozens of girls stalking him and wanting to go out with him. He just had never found one that understood him.

"Don't worry, mate," Thorne bowed in front of him, looking goofy in his plaid robe. "You'll find her someday."

***

The December weather had brought ice to the roads, causing Kai to change his regular course to school to a backroad, but Kai was having a blast as he drove he path while belting "Sweet Caroline" at the top of his lungs. He was right behind a really old and rusty Chevrolet Cavalier the color of dirt and waiting for the light to turn green.

Finally it did, and the old Chevy began to move forward. Kai waited a second, before following behind it, not wanting any surprises from the piece of junk. The drive was nice and breezy, and Kai hardly hit any ice. The song changed, and on came Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benetar.

Kai sang along, enjoying the chorus. He loved listening to songs in his car. He thrived off the feeling of singing until his lungs burned, but his father had told him at a young age that he sounded like a dying peacock when he sang so he only belted out melodies when he was alone.

The chorus was playing a final time when, out of the blue, a red sports car slammed into the old Chevy. The crack of sound that cut through the air was deafening. Time seemed to slow down and Kai watched in horror as the Chevy in front of him tried to stop sliding. Tried so hard, but was no match for the ice and propulsion.

Kai slammed on his brakes, and came to a complete stop just in time to watch the dirt colored car fall off the road and roll down the hill. It tumbled for what seemed like a lifetime, and Kai wondered if whoever was in there would live. He finally understood the expression "watching a slow-motion car crash." It was terrifying.

An eternity later, the car came to a stop at the bottom of the slope. The red sports car had stayed on the road, but was crunched in the front. Kai got out of his car, and walked over to the red car, ears ringing.

The drivers side was a wreck, but the woman sitting there was alive. She had dark auburn hair, and a tearstained face. Her entire body was shaking horribly and her door was jammed. The airbag was deflating, and Kai could tell the lady was crying though he couldn't quite hear her. All the noise had become one high pitched note that seemed to forever echo throughout his head.

Kai walked around the car to the passenger's side. The door opened easily, and Kai began speaking to the woman. He motioned for her to climb out of her vehicle, before anything else happened, and she complied.

Everything seemed so easy. Sure, this woman was in shock but she was still able to get out of her car by herself. Kai had just pulled out his phone to call the police when a spark of light caught the corner of his eye.

Kai practically threw his phone at the red car woman in his haste to run down the hill. How could he be so stupid? Obviously the car that had rolled down a hill would need help first. Kai mentally cursed himself for his idiocy.

Kai threw himself down the diagonal slope in a sprint, attempting to get to to the old car. He ignored the cries of the woman behind him, even as she screamed and wailed. The flames had started small, but were quickly climbing across the surface of the old rust-bucket, the color brighter than normal flames. Kai could see that there was only one person in the car, but he couldn't tell if it was a male or female. They weren't screaming, which frightened Kai. Maybe they were unconscious, or maybe he was too late to save them.

The hill wasn't necessarily long, but it seemed so as Kai raced down at top speed. Flames danced farther along the car, and Kai had the sickening feeling that they were eating the driver alive.

Finally Kai reached the car. It was rolled onto the driver's side, so he knew he would have to get in through the passenger's side again. Kai tried to open the door, but it was jammed.

Cursing, Kai looked at the ground. He had his pocket knife with him, having been told from his boy scout master to “always be prepared.” He couldn't use that to open the door though. Still scanning the ground, Kai's eyes landed on a rather large rock. He smiled and knew that it would work.

Kai began hammering on the window with his rock. The glass began to splinter, and the sickening feeling hit Kai. How long would it take to break the window if rolling down a hill hadn't done it? He had to get that person out of there soon, or else they would either be engulfed in flames or choke on the smoke. Kai was that person's only hope; he had to save them.

The glass seemed almost indestructible, but Kai somehow managed to shatter it all into a thousand pieces. Kai whooped with joy, and began climbing into the car.

That's when he laid eyes on her. She was beautiful, with flames surrounding her, casting a dark, protective shadow. Kai wondered if Hell had angels, and he knew that if they did, this is what they would look like. Kai internally slapped himself for thinking like that during a crisis and tried to undo her seatbelt. It was jammed.

Not even checking to see if she was conscious, he pulled out his pocket knife. The blade was prime, seeing as Kai sharpened it once a month. He wasn't a crazy survivalist, or anything, but he wanted to be prepared.

Kai began sawing through the rough material, and it was much easier than breaking the window glass, though the smoke made it impossible to breathe. The threads came undone in less than sixty seconds and Kai began to wonder if they could ever actually keep anyone safe.

Flames fluttered across his skin, but Kai kept sawing. He had to keep going, even if it meant he got a few burns. Kai knew that the girl was going to have it worse than him, and he had to save her.

The final thread snapped, and Kai grabbed the girl, before she could fall into the windshield. He tucked his knife back into his pants, and began to drag the girl's limp body away from the wreckage.

Kai climbed out backwards, trying to keep both hands on the girl. Glass cut deep into his skin and he winced. The smoke was suffocating him, and he started to panic. Gradually, he pulled his own body from the destruction, and only had the girl left. As gently as he could, Kai hauled her from the car, trying not to let the glass scrape her.

Kai tugged at the girl, and she finally became free of the Hell she had been in. The girl had her chocolate eyes open, but Kai could tell that she was drifting away. He spoke to her. Telling her to stay with him—not to go to sleep, but stay awake— stay alive. He still didn't understand why, but he needed to save her.

He felt as though his life was connected to hers, and the only way to make it complete would be to save her. Her brown eyes locked on his, staring into what must have been his soul. He yelled, wishing he knew her name.

Her lids closed, and the finality seemed to hit Kai like a bulldozer. He ran up the hill, the dying girl still in his arms. He had never run so hard in all of his life—his lungs burning from smoke and exertion.

By the time Kai had climbed to the top of the hill, he could hardly breathe. The smoke was gone, but he knew that it would stay within him for a long, long time.

The red car lady was sprawled across Kai's car, tears running down her cheeks. She was still shaking, though Kai was not surprised. He himself was in shock due to the event that had played before him.

She still had his phone in her hand, and Kai wondered if she had called the police. Kai marched straight for the woman. "Did you call the police?" Kai yelled. His hearing had come back to him, but his ears were still ringing slightly.

The woman nodded and then whimpered. She was she began sobbing hysterically, and Kai felt sympathetic. This woman had not asked for this— it was not her fault.

Kai then remembered the girl in his arms. She had also not asked for this, but look where she was. He set her down on the ground, not sure what to do.

That's when Kai caught sight of her body. She was burned along her entire left side. Her leg was charred black up to her knee, and the rest of her flesh was a raw red with angry blisters already converging.

Kai began dry heaving at the sight and had to look away. How was this girl even alive? Was she still alive? Kai dropped down on his knees and checked for a pulse. He was met by a light, slow thump, and knew they didn't have much time.

The snow on the side of the road was crisp, white and clean. Kai walked over and scooped up an arm full. He wasn't a doctor, or anything, but Kai was pretty sure that it wouldn't do any harm to try and cool her skin down.

White soon covered the charred black flesh, but Kai still felt hopeless. He wished he could do more.

About five minutes later, Kai heard sirens. He jumped up, lifting the burned girl with him. The snow had melted on her skin, and drizzled off in dark, flaking droplets.

Kai watched as the ambulances sped to a stop in front of all the wreckage. EMT's immediately jumped out of the vehicle, pulling two stretchers with them.

People rushed over to the burned girl first, pulling her away and into the first ambulance. They didn't even wait to check on her before loading her up and driving away. Kai stood, still shocked at how fast they had worked.

The rest of the attendants checked the red car lady, and pulled her onto the second stretcher. A woman came over to him, and began asking him questions. He couldn't speak. The world was going at one hundred miles an hour, and he couldn't grasp anything.

Kai fell to the ground, clutching his head, trying to get a grip, but he couldn't. The woman shouted over her shoulder, and hands lifted Kai up onto another stretcher. He began to feel dizzy, wondering where he was.

Medics rushed around him, pushing him into the ambulance. Kai smiled. He had always wanted to see the inside of one of these when he was a kid. The vehicle began to move, and Kai laughed. His eyelids began to droop, and Kai's last thought before drifting off were of the beautiful Angel of Hell.

Tag list: @cerenoya (Let me know if you want to be added!)

#wetta #when earth turns to ashes #kaider #kaider fanfiction #tlc fanfiction #the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #marissa meyer #linh cinder #prince kai #kai #emperor kai #selene blackburn #cinder #kaider au #salt warrior stories

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like-rain-or-confetti · 5 years ago

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High School Reunions (Heidi Volturi x Reader)

You groaned again. You dreaded this day even the very first moment you were officially no longer in high school. High school reunions weren't fun, nor completely friendly from what you knew. You'd be surrounded by your year group who had gone off to do major and minuscule things and the many things that sat in between. Maybe there would be doctors and lawyers but there'd also be those who would be considered failing at life. That category had no discrimination. Married? Kids? Stable job? Salary? Vacations? How many cars? The thousands upon thousands of contacts people would promise to get in touch with to help an old friend when in reality they'd do no such thing and instead leech off of the gossip and ego boost. It was a competition, who did life better? You wanted no part in it but you couldn't just simply not go. That would be so much worse. The gossip would thrive! However, you had nothing to 'show off', nothing in your eyes anyway. Nothing is ever enough in this game and you were content with what you had. However, that didn't mean you weren't affected by judgement.

Emmett nudged you. "Cheer up lil' human." He teased. "It won't be as bad as you think!" "It'll be worse." You grumbled into your hands. "At least you don't have to re-live highschool." Emmett grinned. You jumped slightly hearing Heidi's heels clicking behind you. You had forgotten the Volturi were visiting the Cullen's for a full ten minutes after receiving the invite to the reunion. "What's wrong?" Heidi smiled brightly. "(Y/N) has a high school reunion to go to." Emmett grinned at you. Heidi hummed, intrigued. "What's that exactly?" She twirled a lick of curled hair between her fingers, head tilting slightly. "Hell." You sighed. "I meet up with my year group for a reunion. The idea is innocent, but in actuality it's a sea of adults flaunting their successes like it's a competition." Heidi hummed. "What's so bad about that?" "It's condescending! I'll be around people with high paid jobs, massive houses and many cars and married with hundreds of kids!" You paused. "So maybe not hundreds of kids but you know what I mean." "I do, but you can flaunt too. That's the fun in it." Heidi leaned over the counter slightly in front of you as though you had her full attention. Her red eyes boring into yours. "I don't flaunt. I don't have anything to flaunt. I'm not married, I don't have kids and I don't have an amazing mansion or a fancy car or any of that stuff. I'm just me and that wasn't enough in high school." You sighed. "I had a tough time in school, other kids weren't...friendly toward me." Heidi narrowed her eyes slightly, quiet for a moment. "When is it?" "Three days away." "I'll go with you. Tell them we're engaged or that we're married. Flaunt me all you like. In return, I get to feed on one of them- my choice."

Heidi was very attractive, it was her gift. Humans nor vampires could resist her. You were no exception but your guilt set in quickly. "I couldn't do that. You're not an object-" "I'm not asking, sweetie. It'll be fun! I get to feed and enjoy a little revenge and you get to be on the winning team. It's a win-win." That's how it began and she kept true to her word.

Your jaw hit the floor. Heidi was gorgeous. You weren't surprised when she had chosen a red dress. Her curled hair perfectly framing her face and her make-up was perfect. More notably, she wore a very expensive looking ring on her ring finger. That must have been the 'engagement ring' . "Ready to knock 'em dead?" Heidi smirked seductively. Your heart was racing and you weren't entirely sure of your response. No words coming to mind. "Well one of them more literally." She winked, looping her arm in yours.

The punches rolled in immediately. You barely arrived and were immediately greeted by Hayley. She was the head cheerleader and was a nice person, soft spoken but her company were vicious. So much so that many didn't speak to her just so they wouldn't have to endure her group of friends. "Hi! (Y/N), yeah?" You nodded. "Yeah." "Oh you look great! It's so good to see you!" You chuckled nervously before attempting to divert the attention from yourself. "Hayley, this is Heidi. She's my-" You stumbled, bit entirely certain of what to call her. Luckily Heidi didn't skip a beat, leaning into your side. "I'm their fiancee. It's so nice to meet you." Hayley looked taken aback. There was a brief second she looked enamored my Heidi before shaking herself out of her daze. "You look lovely tonight! Congratulations on your engagement. That's very exciting!" "It is!" Heidi mirrored Hayley's pleasant and polite smile, although Heidi seemed more enthusiastic. Heidi raised her hand, showing the ring. "I'm very lucky to have gotten such a great catch." You stifled a laugh at the dark humour, her job was considered 'fishing' after all. Hayley seemed to look you over slightly, before her eyes moving back to Heidi. Hayley seemed to be judging that statement for herself. "It's beautiful! I'm afraid I must be going, so many people to see! I'll be sure to catch you soon!" You looked at Heidi who turned to look back at you. "I'm very good at this game." She smirked. "She doesn't think I'm good enough for you. I've seen that look a million times." Heidi scoffed. "I bet she thinks a lot of things. I do too but there is a distinct difference between people like me and her." "What's that?" You asked. "I have the guts to say them." Heidi twirled a lock of hair as her eyes travelled around the room. You eyed a few familiar faces around the room. "Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe we should go." "No, we had a deal. Besides, I've got your back. You don't need to worry. We're going to show them how wrong they are about you." "Promise me you have my back." You said quickly as you locked eyes with someone who made their way towards you. "Promise."

"(Y/N) (L/N), I cannot believe it!" The blonde slightly overweight man grinned, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, a darker haired and scrawny man followed behind him closely. The blonde was your old classmate Tommy. You remembered how lovely he was and that he was the theatre kid. He lived and breathed theatres and knew just about every single musical every written. "This is my husband Theodore!" Tommy gestured to the dark haired man who offered a small smile, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I knew it was you! I told him! I told you Theo!" You smiled at Tommy. He seemed genuinely glad to see you. Then again, Tommy was always a good guy. "This is my fiancee, Heidi." You felt a little guilt about lying to Tommy but this was how it has to be. You couldn't go back now. Heidi greeted the couple. "Tell me everything!" Tommy said in delight. "I want to know everything I've missed!" You told him of your job and the real details of your life. Heidi was quick, creating the story of how you both first met and how Heidi fell for you immediately. After a couple of years you proposed. She gave such a convincing story that even you forgot she was talking about you and that you hadn't done anything of these things.

You weren't sure if Tommy and Heidi got on well naturally of if Heidi was just playing along. "Well, in the summer time we hope to finally bring our little girl home permanently. We're finalising the papers." Tommy grinned and even Theodore cracked a smile. "You're adopting? That's amazing, Tommy. Congrats." "I know, I always wanted a daughter! What about you two? Any kids?" "Actually-" Heidi wrapped her arms over your shoulders. "None yet but I'm sure there will be one or two not long after the wedding." Heidi went even further planting a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Heidi's eyes shifted to a woman before nudging you. "Who is that over there?" "Oh... That is Jessica. Why?" "Because I'm trying to listen to everyone's boring lives and all I can hear is her shrill voice shrieking about her golden child who can do no wrong." "Oh...well it looks like she's coming this way." Heidi exhaled slowly, you could tell Jessica aggravated her. "Hello there!" Jessica sang. "My, how you've changed!" Her eyes moved up and down your body making you hold back a shiver. You remembered Jessica to be a snob, much like her parents. You tried to avoid her as much as possible during school. She always wanted to flaunt and that got annoying after ten minutes. "Tommy tells me there is possible little ones in your future! Good for you! And congratulations on your engagement!" Of course Tommy told her. Anyone would give up any information to divert her attention from them and onto someone else. "Yes, perhaps after the wedding." Heidi said sweetly, sickeningly sweet. It had to be intentional but you couldn't tell her that Jessica had no kind of radar for such hints to back off. "We're waiting until I'm more financially secure." You played along in hopes of settling any tension with Heidi. You were practically saving Jessica's life in your eyes. "I'm hoping a promotion is in the near future for me. A lot of my money has went to the wedding." "Oh I wish I had time for a job!" Jessica swooned. "I simply don't have time for that. I have a little one of my own, she's seven and quite possibly a genius! Naturally all my time goes to her and I'm absolutely exhausted! Oh how she's worth it though. My extraordinary child. Any other parent would be jealous!" Heidi hummed pleasantly but it was very forced. Anyone but Jessica could see it. "(Y/N) works for the government. I want a big white wedding and my (Y/N) made my dreams come true! Now we hope to have children after the wedding and put some money away for private schooling. We'll have to be careful though in timing." Heidi pulled you closer to her, wrapping an arm around you. "I'd like to enjoy (Y/N) myself without any interruptions. Oh the things they can do!" Your jaw dropped. "Heidi!" "Honey, I promised I wouldn’t talk about your position in the government since it's a secret. You never said I couldn't talk about you." Jessica chuckled slightly uncomfortable. "Well if you excuse me..."

"Really? Implying sex? Really?" Your eyes were wide. "She was insufferable before she came over here, I did you a favour. I said it because she's recently divorced and is very jealous of every couple here." Heidi paused. "Besides if she said rammed one more brag about her child in our faces I'd expect she'd pull the child out of her bag and trying to force her down our throats. Children are not that special, I don't care who you are." You sighed before a thought occurred to you. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone say something like that about their child. She just promised us a prodigy." "That's because she's insecure in herself, she's trying to show everyone she's a great mother who's managing perfectly her divorce from her husband who likely got bored of her long ago." "Maybe she is coping well." "Perhaps, but no one copes perfectly. That's the difference. She doesn't want a single crack to show and I bet on the inside she is one more crack away from falling to pieces." "I feel like everyone has it put together but me." Heidi snorted. "Are you kidding? Look. See Hayley over there? She went from everyone's perfect princess and now has nothing to show for it. She's learned she's normal like the rest of us. Tommy, no doubt has his issues with his husband because he couldn’t stress enough that his life was perfect along with his marriage. Even with the right person, marriages aren't always easy. I've made my case with that Jessica over there already." Heidi turned to look at you. "Everyone here is miserable and insecure and trying to pretend they aren't. They feel they have something to prove just like you do. As soon as they leave here, they'll be ripping one another apart just to make themselves feel better...it's a little cute if you ask me." Heidi finished with a smile.

You suddenly stifled with a gasp. Liam. The ringleader of all bullies was in front of you and heading your way with a sickening smirk. You were his favourite to torment and judging by the smile he gave you, they're wouldn't be much difference. Liam looked down at you, a good head taller than you. "(Y/N) (L/N). I didn't expect you'd make it. We all know what you're like around...people." He smirked and you couldn't bring yourself to respond. "Who's this? How much did you pay her to go with you, hm?" Heidi's nostrils flared before she responded. "I'm their fiancee." She said sweetly, holding up her ring. "Has to be a fake. This moron can barely tie their own shoes never mind get you a ring like that." He snorted. Then his eyes ran up and down Heidi, the sight making your skin crawl. "Let me know when this one bores you princess. I can show you a better time." As soon as he left, you exhaled. "Can we go?" You asked Heidi. "No." She said looking at Liam who had walked away. "Why?" "Because I found my meal." "Him? Really? He might make you sick. I think he has tar for blood." "Oh no, he's the one." She said smoothly. "That's the one who gave you a rough time?" "Yeah, but it doesn't matter, let's just go-" "We'll stay for another half an hour. Right now, let's get you a drink."

Heidi kept you distracted for the next twenty minutes, talking about everything and anything with you as you sipped on your drink. She even reassured you that you were the better catch than Liam...the pun was intended. "Listen honey, I'd spend my time with you before him. He's the type of guy who doesn't have a brain." She tilted her head almost adoringly in his direction. "He's a loser." "That's...not a compliment." "It's not supposed to be honey. Anyway, say your goodbyes. I'm going to get my meal. I'll meet you outside in ten minutes." She kissed you cheek before leaving. She didn't have to go so far in this act but you wouldn't complain.

You moved away from your original position to see Heidi brush past Liam and giving him a seductive smile, all the while nodding at him to follow her. Liam had no problems and immediately complied.

You left exactly ten minutes later, saying your final goodbyes to Tommy before Heidi turned the corner, smiling. "Darling, I was just checking the car. Are you ready to go?" Tommy was quick to pull you into a hug. "It was great seeing you (Y/N), remember to add my number! I'd love to hear from you again soon!" You nodded with a smile. "Bye, Tommy." There was something oddly sad about the situation. You already missed him and didn't know why. Perhaps he represented normal human life. Ever since you've known about vampires, your life hasn't been normal. An adjective you missed greatly. Heidi's cold hand slipping into yours broke you out of your thoughts before she lightly pulled you away. You offered a wave to Tommy as Heidi called back that it was lovely to have met him. "Your hand is freezing." You mumbled. "Would you like me to let go?" "No, it was way too hot in there, the cold is welcomed." Heidi smiled in response. "Did you...is he alive?" You asked. "No, he isn't." Heidi said simply. "He was delicious, just the right amount of Karma too "

Heidi walked you to the Cullen door before kissing your cheek. You blushed immediately. "You were a lovely date tonight and I'm happy to have helped you. Perhaps you should take me out more often." She winked.

#twilight #volturi #the volturi #Heidi Volturi #reader #one shot #oneshot

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childofsolace-write-ups · 4 years ago

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[ARC ONE: REUNION]

INTRODUCTION

In the first year, thinking about it now, it was probably already starting then. There was no disaster, but I think it had been hinting on something, about an end that was to come. It was completely dark that night, we thought it was just some kind of an eclipse. But this one was a little strange. It was eerily quiet. I was scared. My baby sister was scared. Hell, my parents were scared. But then, they said it would be okay.

Like always, for every single day of our life, the sun would come up again, shine upon Gaea, and things will go back to normal.

Was I ever wrong.

You know what they say, right? Don't look at an eclipse straight in the eye. It could ruin your eyes? Well, when the sun came, it was so much worse. Anyone who walked out was burned... No, incinerated. Just like that, stepping outside and they spontaneously combust on the spot. The world thought it was just some new phenomenon. Scientists were trying to figure out why it happened. It took a whole year, but nothing came up for their trouble.

Then six more years followed, each one bringing forth a different kind of terror. The weather was unpredictable; countries that never experienced snow suddenly started experiencing hailstorms, leading up to terrible geo-storms. Insects invaded farms and destroyed their produce. Wildlife got infected with some unknown substance until them finally became creatures that look more like monsters we read only ever read about in stories, or watch about it movies.

And that was just the beginning of where everything went completely wrong...

/Trent Everhart/.Transmission over.//Year 70/

Once, people flourished and made a living above land. The resources were abundant. But then again, so were the humans who needed them.

Soon, 'Natural' lost its meaning, 'Artificial' replaced it. Machinery operations ran the daily lives of people, flowers and plants were faked serving as decorations, tall buildings took the place of tall trees in rain forests. Most factors considered natural can only be seen through microscopes.

But nature took its own course and returned with vengeance. Cosmic debris crash landed from above, causing an explosion that plagued the entire planet. It polluted the atmosphere and strange side effects started revealing themselves. Animals and vegetations alike were most susceptible to these changes. They attacked humans, nearly wiping out the entire species. Unable to thoroughly explain how this happened, scientists, without sufficient evidence, wrote it off as radioactive particles causing severe chemical changes to earth's living inhabitants.

But humans were smart, they were animals in their own way. They strive for survival.

Using the historical underground city of Derinkuyu as a reference they created a modernized type and with their latest state of the art technology they expanded it even further from two hundred feet to one thousand feet. For this purpose, unbeknown to the public, a life under the surface of the Earth was being prepared for them. Unlike the Derinkuyu however, they had the materials and technology to have metallic interiors and bunker units for dwelling. A large, nine hundred meter metallic ventilation shaft was constructed, filtering the carbon from above to be breathable oxygen air. The shaft also provided water to both the villagers above and, if the outside world was not accessible, to those in hiding.

Eventually, anyone not affected by the atmosphere were evacuated to underground cities right before the atmosphere could become too unpredictable and prove hazardous to their lives. A new system of governance was created. Since the underground cities in all part of the world were interconnected one way or another, they all decided to use a unified language starting then. 'Councillors' is the term referred to leaders chosen in each division, the word country becoming obsolete.

Guards who were obligated to inspect the surface level regularly were given Hi-tech contamination suits with advanced, state-of-the-art filters as to not be be affected by the atmosphere since anyone exposed to the atmosphere is banned from re-entering the cities. Some people died due to open wounds exposed to the atmosphere's strange particles.

Soon, humans engaged in a new form of living, but not without encountering troubles along the way.

The fear of being unable to distribute provisions without having shortages became prominent. This led the Councilors to convene altogether and come up with a radical solution. They decided to send back to the surface anyone they classify as worthless or a liability. More than a thousand orphaned, disabled, and jobless individuals were sent back up on the first release. It did not really matter to them if they survived or not, it was inconsequential as long as their survival was assured. In the years that followed, this became a normal routine. With the initial liabilities released, all the present releases were orphaned children. Then again, as one hero once stated in the History of the Surface, "The Youth is the hope of the nation", there came a generation of hope.

It was not planned, it wasn't an intention. It just happened.

Of the first batch of releases that only involved orphans, only eight had survived the harsh environment of the regressed and primitive state that the surface had been reduced to. Together, they survived and now thrive to make a living once more above ground, as humans were really meant to be.

Still, the Underground city was not to be ignored. And perhaps, it is to be reminded, who the true enemy really is.

::TREY::

The forest is quiet.

That's your first clue. Even on the surface, even given that most of the Earth's living creatures got wiped out within weeks of it happening, things should never be This quiet.

You'll never know; something dangerous could be trying to hide itself.

"I think this is where I found it."

I give a jolt when Lexie spoke behind me. I completely forgot she was there. With the silence, it was easy to think I was alone. "Keep your voice down," I whisper. "we don't know what might be out there."

"Trey," Kytes whispers back. "wouldn't it be better to just use telepathy? We wouldn't be making any sound."

I sigh, "Kyi that would be using our signature and if there is any bad Mana around here, that would set things off, like an open flame to gas leaks." I rub my forehead. "C'mon, we've been over this a thousand times. You're lucky it's not Rhys reminding you."

Kytes scratches his head. "Oh, yeah..."

"Been here for eight years, you would think you'd have that memorized by now." Lexie teases playfully. "It's survival 101."

Oh really? I think sarcastically. Like she's one to talk about survival 101. Half the time, Corrin's the ones reminding her of our protocols...

Kytes looks a little sheepish. "People can be forgetful, it happens..."

"Okay, shut it already you two." They weren't really making any real noise, but I knew Lexie's tendencies and once you got her talking, it might be harder to get her to stop. "Kytes's idea was good just too bad for that small detail. Now we should keep quiet." Like I was making any noise, though. "Let's get a move on, keep alert for anything that doesn't feel right."

"Heh, I forgot how uptight Trey can be..."

I huff in irritation but chose not to respond. She calls it being uptight, I call it instinct. It was very important after all, especially in terms of surviving the surface's unpredictability. We, the ones left, have gotten pretty good in relying on instincts. It's about the only warning you get up here.

The forest is very unusual even if it looks like any other forest. For one thing, I'm not even sure it can be called a forest, at least not a natural one, given that it's growing in the middle of what used to be a town. The road is cracked by numerous roots, and most of the buildings have trees growing out of them. Their walls could be hiding any number of things. The forest itself is the oddest thing. Many years ago, this was a thriving metropolis, full of people, tourists, machines—now it's home to trees that look like they've been there a good fifty years at least. This is one of the most immediate changes caused by the strange atmosphere when the phenomenon had first spread out through the entire globe. The landscape got warped beyond all recognition in the early days. That's why so many people died...

Like mom and dad.

"Oh!" Lexie cries and stops in her tracks.

I turn towards her. "Shh!" I snap. "Alexis, jeez."

"But Trey, this is where I found it. Only..."

Kytes scans the area. "Well, it's not here now."

"Quiet, the creature that pissed might still be around." I face Lexie. "And you're sure the piss was the non-absorbent type?"

We have to watch where or what we step into. Because if, for instance, you got an open wound and you stepped into a puddle with urine in it and that wound happens to get infected as well then it could mean something really bad. The Rabid animals up here are so messed up that even a slight contact with their shit may turn fatal for us. Luckily, only the Rabid Animals have urinal waste that have a touch of color so it's easy to figure which ones are the non-absorbent type. We try to get rid of those because prevention was better than cure.

"Well, it was a pool on the ground, all purpley and molted. I watched it for a while, it didn't seem like it was going away." Lexie combs strands of black hair away from her face. "So I thought..."

Kytes shrugs. "It's either something else absorbed it, or it really was absorbent after all and just needed more time to soak in."

"Maybe. So then, should we just—EWW, GROSS!"

"What is it—OH YUCK!"

I swat them both to remind them to be quiet and made a mental note to give them extra kitchen clean up duty. Really, do they want a death wish?

"It's just a skeleton—" an animal's. We don't see human skeletons since the earlier days, when we made it a point to try and bury the ones we still could out of respect. "you've seen them before."

"I know—but they're usually not THAT fresh." Lexie frowns.

I have to agree, it's isn't the prettiest thing I've seen. Even the other skeletons weren't as bad. It looked like someone's halfway eaten meal...

Wait.

"Quiet. See if you can hear anything."

Lexie leans back against a tree, Kytes crouches by a bush with me, and we stay still as possible listening out for anything unusual. I know there's something not right here. No animal noises, no birds. Then there's that heavy oppressive silence as though we're being watched very closely. A light breeze blows my fringe into my eyes and I bat it out of the way, frowning. The feeling something being wrong is stronger than ever.

Wait.

The breeze.

It should have rustled the leaves on the trees too. Yet there was no noise. I look up at the tree tops. They're perfectly still. Even as another breeze stirs the forest. Why would that be? Unless the trees are watching us?

I look around the Clearing.

Now that I think about it, the trees do seem slightly closed together than they were. As I watch, an oak sends a root trailing over! What could they be doing?

Unless... The Skeleton.

"RUN!" I grab Kytes and haul him after me, jumping over the oak root and out of the circle of trees.

"Woah now! Trey—what?"

Kytes doesn't have to finish his sentence. A large branch is suddenly in front of us and I'm unable to stop from tripping over it. A root winds itself around my ankle. Kytes is now full aware of the attack as more follow, breaking the surface of the ground to wrap themselves around us.

"I thought they only moved that fast with time lapse photography!"

Kytes takes his survival knife out. "I think this is a bit more serious than time lapse photography!"

Before I could bring out my own Cutlass, some vines grab hold of my forearm. The blond slashes off with precision he mastered, perfectly avoiding cutting my flesh. Lexie wields her double-edged Naginata to cut off vines stretching down from above. I'm still amazed how a girl like her who used to whine about missing cosmetics and other pointless stuff is now so skilled in combat. I think Lexie's weapon type came from some Asian country. I forgot which one. Actually, I even forgot what our own country was called. It seemed like such a long time ago that we used the term country.

I am once again forever grateful of Rhys's brilliant mind. Back then, we could count the weapons we had available to us with two hands. But once we got older, or more to the point, when Rhys got older and smarter, he made used of some books he found to create bladed weapons once we found a steel forging factory. And he had enough books to show him how to forge weapons of different origins. He taught us how to make our own, but most of the time they were poor attempts compared to what Rhys can craft. Now any weapons we need for ourselves and those who keeps coming can be easily accessed and made... Well, maybe not easily made since they still required a lot of effort, but at least we don't have to keep scavenging for usable weapons now. Sure, we could use all those guns and ammunition we got in storage, but we all agreed to save those for a time we might really need to them. Besides, at least with bladed weapons, there's no worries for a shortage of ammunition.

"Kytes, Trey! Do something, they keep coming!"

Kytes slashes his knife to an incoming vine before jumping back. "Uh, and you don't call what we're doing something?" He jumps over a root.

"Less talking, more attacking!" I snap, finishing off the hostile roots at my side and rush to aid Lexie. I make it in time to keep a giant flower bud from chomping her head clean off, barely missing the launch of purple goo it spat out. "Wah?!" I yelp, twirling my head around for a double take, seeing the goo boil through a bush as if it were acid or something, which explained the skeleton. "Okay. Rabid Vegetation's Gastric acid. Just as bad as a Rabid Animal's piss."

Lexie grunts, using her weapon as leverage to get up. "Noted. Next time, try saving my skin without pushing me. I twisted my ankle."

Okay, that was my bad. But it was that or being plant feed. At least she didn't break skin and bleed. Although uncertain, Corrin says fatality is possible if open wounds were exposed to loose Mana energy for more than ten minutes, and I forgot to make sure that we brought bandages with us. That's one strike of careless act for the day. I try to keep that to a minimum, the maximum being three. As the Leader, being extra cautious is an expectation.

"Trey! Help me out here!"

I spin around and saw vines lifting Kytes up, his knife lay useless on the ground. I rush towards him.

By duty, I was responsible for everyone up here as their leader.

As a friend, I was responsible for the blond, I was indebted to him.

When my sister was sick on the day we were going to be released to the surface, he took her place. I also owe it to his older brother, my best friend, who was now taking care of her back in the Underground city.

The vines were so thick that I couldn't slice through it with my Cutlass. I had to use the other way, but how can I with Kytes still in its clutches? A vine grips around my arm and I wince in pain as it tightens on my radius.

"TREY!"

Before I was fully aware of it there was fire flooding all my senses. I lashed out in rage, only vaguely aware of the beeping on my wrist that reminds me to take it easy. The vines holding up Kytes fall away in front of me. Luckily, the blond looked unharmed.

"Get out of the way!"

Thankfully, Kytes seemed to get what was about to happen. He grabs his knife and rolls out of the way. Good, I did not want to be misunderstood now. The two did not take their eyes off me as they back away. I concentrate where I want to have the flames to burst out and the results were no less effective. The Vegetable mutations draws back, leaving us unscathed except for Lexie's twisted ankle, which Corrin can heal no problem. I concentrate on pulling my power back. I look at the device fashioned like a watch that was strapped on my wrist, indicating my energy's exertion level. I see that it's stable and I join the two out of the clearing. Kytes helps her up and supports her weight.

"Code Red?"

I sigh, nodding. "Yes. We had far too many incidents this week alone, this being the twelfth. It's about that time again," It was a little frustrating. Rhys just got a filter working so we could fill a pool with clean water. I guess we have to make the most of it while we're still here. "I don't want anyone hunting till we move. We still have meat stocked so it's not like we have to settle for the vegetables and fruits in Kytes's gardens."

"Hey," The blond scowls. "My produce aren't that bad... are they?"

I smirk. "No Kytes, but if there's a chance to have meat, we want to have some too." I pat his back. "Let's head back."

"Oh, but Trey—" Lexie's eyes rolls up a bit. It signals her using her tracking ability. She's like a built-in GPS system with that. I don't really get it, but she can sense another person's or thing's Mana and Rhys has a theory that the ones who use Mana in their own way also has a unique trademark, like a fingerprint, so to speak. It was a bit unnerving the first time she used it since all you see were her cornea, but if you knew her as long as we have, you get used to it. "—yeah, I sense three guys out hunting nearby already."

I roll my eyes, "Three," I mutter knowingly, and the two share similar looks. "the only one who can get away with not following the group count rule is Meeko, and only if he has Lori and one other person watching his back."

Back then, with the whole idea of 'The rule of three' and it being an optimal number, maybe it would've made sense. But when playing video games and I would choose Party members, to challenge myself, I would pick three only; the MC would still get enough experience points and two characters would be enough to support him in battle. But this isn't a video game with a restart button. Normally when we send out groups for hunts, Five was the permitted number. It's too dangerous any less. Meeko can get away with it since his ability was multiplying himself. Usually, Meeko did most of the work to get it out of his system, being one of those always hyped-up types. Granted, he is one of our best hunters which we would all acknowledge often if he wasn't so rash and impulsive at times. This brings me to his better half, or more reasonable twin brother, Lori who normally didn't like fighting. Unless something or someone he cares for is in danger, he can be provoked to act though.

In our case, well, I thought the three of us would be enough for the Urinal extraction since we weren't really expecting a fight since this wasn't a hunt for food and we are still pretty much near the base, but I guess I didn't account for the fact that trouble would be the one hunting us. Even two persons used to be enough for extractions, but perhaps I neglected to take into consideration the level of experience. Previously, those two persons doing extractions had been either Rhys and myself or Leon and Jonah, the latter pair being eldest of our entire group. I only grabbed Kytes and Lexie this time because they were immediately available, and while I did not question their experience, Kytes was more adept to scouting, and that entailed evasive action, staying in a place only long enough to check its safety and avoiding combat as much as possible. Lexie was used to scavenging, which was gathering any useful items or materials after scouts deemed an area clear for occupying or searching. These two haven't seen combat as often as I have.

Damn, that's a second strike for me. "Where are they exactly?"

"A bit Northeast you'd get to that river, follow it downstream you'll make it to a clearing passed some thicket of bushes. Berry bushes, to be exact, not the good kind. They're at a glade of sorts..." Lexie smirks. "Well, at least the two not going crazy are. But I sense the third more crazier one of them is nearby."

Kytes laughs. "Just make it easier and call him who it most probably is. Even I can figure it's Meeko." he says.

"Okay, you two head back. I'll go fetch them. Kyi, after you take Lexie to the infirmary, go tell Rhys to prepare putting up some warning signs." I instruct. "Suggest Code 3." Carnivorous vegetation.

The blond nods. "Code 3, got it." He lifts Lexie, positioning her on his back in a way that can make him run faster. He takes off and I'm fairly impressed. He's fourteen carrying a sixteen year old while managing a running pace. I guess years of training does that.

I sheath my Cutlass and took off myself.

#ChildOfSolace Original

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