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crystalbahamut · 3 years ago

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pounds of flesh

FFXIV Write Day 3: Scale

Summary: The Exarch is familiar with tactics used to dodge those most dangerous of creatures (Healers) and offers you his assistance.

Author’s note: Am currently ignoring the fact that there’s no faucet in the Pendant room (that I could find) because that seems inconvenient for such an otherwise nice kitchenette. The prompt started me off with the idea of scaling a staircase feeling on par with scaling a mountain but it sort of veered off from there. I really loved this prompt though; there are so many ways to take it.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, unspecified WoL, non-healing WoL (kind of), 2nd person pov, WoL/Exarch, overworking oneself on purpose

Words: 1,876

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You might have gotten a little bit…carried away today. Triffids, hoptraps, wargs, and more; you had carried out a number of quests to reduce the threats posed to those traveling the roads of Lakeland, and that wasn’t even counting the morning spent in Rak’tika helping out the Night’s Blessed with some of their chores. You don’t mind– it’s nice to be helpful, good, necessary even– but now that everything aches and some of the cuts have opened up again you wonder if maybe you took it a little far. All you wanted to do was make sure you slept well tonight, but even taking the intercity aetheryte was too much to ask of your energy stores. You have scaled cliffs and mountains, but right now the thought of scaling the steps to your room is making you want to find a place the guards don’t patrol and just lay on the ground. It’s a good thing the manager is on break right now, or you’d have to field some uncomfortable questions about why you’re just standing around, staring.

“There you are.”

You flinch. Mayhap the manager would have been the lesser of two well-intentioned evils, considering the Exarch sounds…not exactly smug, but knowing. You stand taller and clear your throat. “Evening Exarch,” you say. “Did you need something?”

“Not precisely, though I am wont to worry when you stay out so late,” he says and steps towards you.

That…you almost turn around for that. He worries? You shake your head; of course he worries, you are (supposedly) the one hope for the world’s survival. ‘Tis nothing more than prudence. “Nothing to worry about; I’m quite fine.”

“Oh?” You can hear the smile in his voice as he comes around your side, and you quickly look away. “Should I be flattered that you seem to be emulating me?”

You scowl and pull the head covering down farther. How in the world does he see anything like this? “You didn’t invent hooded robes, Exarch.”

“No, I did not,” he chuckles. “However I have not seen you wearing one, until now.”

“Mayhap I simply felt like it.”

“Mayhap you did,” he says. “Or mayhap you are trying to hide a head wound incurred when a lake viper used its tail to swat you into a tree.”

You don’t have a good comeback for that. “You know, nobody likes a know it all,” you grumble and try to sink into your shoulders. One of these days you are going to break that damn magic mirror of his.

“My dear warrior,” he sighs as though indulging you in a whim. “What would it take for you to accompany me to Spagyrics?”

You turn to give him a look of incredulity and then realize that probably isn’t very effective. However he sighs and says, “I see.”

“Do you?” you ask. “I can’t see anything like this; I don’t know how you do it.”

He doesn’t take the bait, unfortunately. “Would you allow me to see to your wounds then?”

“I can heal myself.”

“If you could, you already would have.” He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, though right on a sore spot that twinges, and you try not to wince. “I would just like some assurance you are well enough. If you are uncomfortable with me, I can fetch one of the Scio-”

“You,” you say immediately and take his arm. You pull back the hood to see with your good eye and find his mouth partly opened in surprise. “I trust you.” Also, if Alisaie or Y’shtola see you in this state, they will put you out of their misery. But you meant what you said. You do trust him.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, as though he’s honored, and the wondrous tone of his voice is enough to give you the energy to make it up the stairs and to your room.

“I don’t think I’ve seen someone manage to limp so successfully on both legs before,” the Exarch says and goes to the cupboard where the first aid kit lives.

“It’s not that bad– though I’m going to warn you that I’m a bit dirty so it probably looks worse than it is,” you say and pull off the robe. Gently, as everywhere it touches seems to throb with new pain, or maybe the fatigue is getting to you. While he’s turned around you quickly (ow) change into some shorts and a tank top and sit on the bench by the door.

When he turns around the Exarch actually stops in his tracks. “Wicked white,” he says and sighs. “If Chessamile saw you like this…”

“The Warrior of Darkness would be ended by the wrath of a bypassed healer.” You put a finger to your lips. “But surely now my trusty accomplice will help me.”

He smiles again, though he looks like he’s trying to wrangle it back into a disapproving frown. “Extortion now, is it?” he asks as he starts filling a bowl with water.

“I think your offer belied the feelings of one used to dodging chirurgeons,” you say and give yourself a quick check to make sure anything that needs treating is visible. Thankfully your torso just endured some bruising; it’s your limbs that took the brunt of everything. And your head, you’re reminded as you try to gingerly scrape off some of the dried blood and accidentally reopen the wound, making fresh blood course back down over your eye. “Oops.”

“Perhaps I have, but even my own injuries pale in comparison. I can see why any healer would have their hands full with you,” the Exarch says as he comes over to take your hand, shove some cloth in it, and force you press it hard against the cut. “Pray just hold that there for now.”

Now that you’re able to relax and do nothing, exhaustion courses through your bones and you do as he bids if only because anything else is far too much effort. You struggle to stay awake as he pulls over a chair, the medical kit, and the bowl of water, and blink yourself back to consciousness when he sits down.

“Are there any sprains?” he asks as he looks over the injuries.

“My right ankle feels a bit funny, and I think I pulled something in my left thigh, but mostly I’m just scraped up,” you say. He dabs some of the scratches with the clean water and it’s uncomfortable but not unbearable. You almost start to fall asleep with his gentle ministrations.

But when he presses a new, slightly damp cloth to those scrapes, the stinging wakes you right up. “Thal’s balls!” you hiss and resist the urge to rip his hands away. On the plus side, your head has stopped bleeding again; now it only throbs as you set the bloodied cloth aside and try to quell the nausea caused by pain.

“I apologize,” he murmurs and dabs it more gently. It’s not a good feeling but you can bear it a little easier now that you know it’s coming. He clears his throat. “What were you working on so frenetically today?”

“Huh?” You think about the question. “Oh– nothing much really; I was just taking a few jobs here and there.”

“Are you in need of gil?” he asks and lifts his head. Presumably to look at you. “Surely some of these jobs could have waited another day?”

You take the washcloth and wring it out before you start cleaning your other leg, and then your arms. It will help him get through this easier. And it also makes it so you don’t have to look at him now. “They could have. But I wanted them done.”

“Because you plan to take the day for yourself tomorrow?”

“Perhaps,” you say. “Perhaps this is how I want to spend my days.”

“Working yourself to the bone when you already do so much?” He finishes wrapping your ankle and grabs your hand. He says your name gently, without reproach. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” You shut your eyes. “Sometimes…I just want to sleep. That’s all.”

“I see,” he says and doesn’t press for more. If this were Alphinaud you wouldn’t be able to escape without some awkward attempt at platitudes on his end, or Urianger, who would try to make suggestions while also nearly putting you to sleep with one of his lectures, but the Exarch keeps tending to you with hands that are gentler than they have any right to be.

When he starts treating the cut on your head it’s a good excuse to close your eyes, but even without some supposed excuse you don’t think you would do any differently. He’s so…gentle. Healers, even the kindest ones, are all business– as they should be, as they’re always the ones that have to make sure everyone is fighting fit for the next catastrophe. But the Exarch touches you so tenderly, like he wants to put you back together piece by piece, with soothing motions and soft brushes of skin, and crystal that’s warmer than it looks, and it’s all you can do to keep from falling apart in his capable hands.

“One moment, my warrior,” he murmurs and you realize you’re halfway to sleep by the fact that you can’t seem to open your eyes when he leaves, but it doesn’t bother you overmuch. When he comes back and nudges you to stand, you manage to do so, but you still don’t open your eyes even as you shuffle over to the bed with his help. You sit on sheets– the cover has been pulled back already, you realize with delayed thoughts as the Exarch tucks you in. You’ll be mortified in the morning, but for now…

“I pray sweet dreams find you tonight, my warrior.”

You think you imagine the gentle kiss placed upon your brow, but in case this isn’t some lovely dream and he is still around to hear it, you whisper, “Thank you.”

The next morning finds you sore and a little stiff, but you can recognize that you’re better off than you would have been otherwise.

You also find a collection of medicinal-looking mixtures all lined up in bottles in a neat little row on the table. And, when you go over to investigate, a note from the Exarch.

My dear warrior,

Though it is not a happy thought, there are many in Norvrandt who share your desire for uninterrupted sleep, as well as your difficulties attaining it. These elixirs each have their own cards describing ingredients and dosage; if you find one to your liking, it would be a simple matter of requesting more, and I should be delighted to do so.

Also, if you ever find the climb to your room to be too arduous, perhaps the smaller staircase leading to the tower itself would be less of a strain. Once inside, there are easier ways to get around that I would be happy to show you.

With fondest wishes,

The Crystal Exarch

You smile and fold the letter back up. An easier way to the Ocular, hm? You’d like to see that. Perhaps now is a good time to stretch your legs and make the climb.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite prompt 3: scale #ffxiv fanfic #shadowbringers spoilers #the crystal exarch #warrior of light #wolexarch #wol x exarch

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ilguna · 4 years ago

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Anteric - Chapter Six (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing. FIGHTING, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, GORE, BLOOD, INJURIES.

wc; 8.6k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

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Finnick is still picking blue paint out of his hair this morning. Each time he goes to run a hand through it, he’ll get stuck halfway through, due to a clump of knotted blue hair. You try not to laugh, but every now and then a cough will slip out. At some point, he gives up and goes to take a shower in hopes to fix his problem.

Since you woke up fairly early again, you have enough time to get ready at a leisurely pace. Unfortunately, you're sure that the sun has already risen, so there wouldn’t be a point to go up the Pit to see. And you think that’s for the best, because it’s not safe up there anymore. Not now that Finnick knows where you’d go if you need a moment to breathe.

Well, that’s one of the places. Hopefully he won’t figure out the other.

You’ve realized that you probably need to speak to him sometime soon, considering the rift that’s continuing to grow. The only problem is that you’ve already apologized for your sudden distance. He just ignored it.

You think you’ve said this before, but Finnick will get extremely upset to the point where he’ll stop talking. He used to do that all the time to a couple of other people that you knew in Abnegation. You weren’t his only friend, just the best. There’s only been a few times where you’ve been on the receiving end of his cold behavior. And he’s always bounced back from it.

Half of the time it’s because you gave him space to think about what he wanted. He would just wander back on his own, heart in his hands to give to you. In those moments, it was always his fault. Which is why it was so easy for him to come talk to you again.

Other times, you’d persist after Finnick, trying to get him to budge and talk to you again. This is how you found out that it would be harder to talk to you again. Because you were constantly trying to get him to. It just built up annoyance more, and prolonged the silent treatment. This option is always the second choice, a last resort for dire situations.

Which is why you’re so caught right now.

Finnick could really need you to go after him, or he could really need you to stay away. And honestly, you don’t mind either of those plans, except the latter one has a problem hidden within it. Normally when you’d leave Finnick alone, it would be because he didn’t have anyone else to talk to.

If you go on and move onto Trink circle for the time being while you wait for him to come around, he won’t be alone. He won’t have time to think about why he’s angry by himself. He’ll have someone else to delay that entire process. You know Finnick like the palm of your hand, he can and will put talking to you off for as long as possible.

You thought that Thyme could be a nice addition to yours and Finnick’s friendship, but it seems like she’s going to be making things more complicated. And there’s a hot, sticky feeling in your chest that’s telling you it isn’t a coincidence. From the moment she’s gotten here, she’s been weird.

A hand slaps your foot, making the laces slip from your fingers, your foot falling to the floor. Thyme passes in front of you, and sits down on her bed. It’s only when she starts to lace her first shoe, does she look at you, “Keep your dirty shoes off my bed.”

You stare at her for a moment, and the only thought that comes to your mind is the fact that you’re too tired for her bullshit. You fix your laces before standing up, leaving her alone. You stretch your arms and legs, moving toward the middle of the room. Caspian said that training wouldn’t resume until tomorrow, but that just means you’ll be stuck shooting guns for ten hours.

Finnick comes out of the bathroom, briefly catching your eye. He’s fully dressed, a black towel hangs around the back of his neck to catch the water from his hair. You move out of his way, not thinking too much into the movement. All you know is that you don’t want to be caught in the storm that might be brewing at the moment.

Which ultimately means you just unintentionally made the decision you’ve been worrying over for the past couple of minutes. You guess that your first instinct has never been to pry. And you also guess that this is a result of the Abnegation conditioning. You’re not supposed to ask questions, especially if it might hurt the other person.

But you aren’t in Abnegation anymore, are you?

You spare a glance in Finnick’s direction, wondering if it’s too late to go back and change your mind. His back is already turned toward you, and he’s talking to Thyme. He turns his body slightly, going to sit down on his bed. The smile on his face is almost unforgivable, a light feeling arising in your stomach.

There’s a split second where you recognize that he’s going to look toward you, his head is already turning, his eyes still on Thyme. You think that you’ll be able to muster up enough courage to talk to him. But it all disappears the moment his eyes land on you. And you find yourself turning before you say to.

Trink is stretching her arms above her head, her tank top rides up slightly to reveal her belly. She lets out a slight yawn, and then she pulls her top back down and looks between you, Eytelle and Allio.

“Breakfast?” she proposes.

You wonder how far is too far with Finnick.

“Yeah.” Eytelle agrees, Allio raises to his feet.

Trink’s eyes land on you, waiting to see what you have to say.

You roll your shoulders and give her a bright smile, “Well, obviously.”

Trink leads the way out of the dormitory, with Eytelle and Allio in the middle, and you taking up the back. Up until the door slides shut smoothly behind you, your hands are balled into fists and you can’t relax your shoulders no matter how hard you try. You just feel safer now that you’re out of sight, at least their eyes won’t be on you.

For a while, you focus on Allio and Eytelle’s voice echoing off the walls, as they talk about what they think their rank might be. It’s an easy enough conversation for you to escape to. Since the answer should be pretty difficult to find, because of technicalities and all. But the mystery is solved two minutes later, and the distraction is no longer here.

You’re lucky that the walk to the dining hall is short.

“You two head inside, we’ll follow in a minute.” Trink says, giving them a polite smile.

“Do you want to sit with the Dauntless-borns?” Eytelle is walking backwards.

Trink makes a face like she’s telling them ‘obviously’, but speaks anyway, “Make sure it’s with Lennox.”

Eytelle nods, and the two of them disappear inside. Trink turns to you next, her smile fading from her face, “Why didn’t you say anything to her?”

You press your lips together for a moment, and then you speak, “I know what I’m doing with Finnick.”

“Really?” she rolls her eyes, “Come on, (Y/n).”

“I’ve been dealing with him for my entire life.” you tell her, drifting towards the doorway. You two might be friends now, but you don’t have to reveal all your secrets to her just yet. It’s been less than a day, “Thyme won’t last, trust me.”

She raises her eyebrows, “You should still talk to him.”

“I will.” you say, she’s starting to follow you now, “I’ll do it tomorrow before the final fight.”

Trink shrugs.

The two of you stand together for a while, before she’s the first to spot your group from last night. At the table, she greets Lennox and slides right in next to him. She serves herself a small portion of toast and blueberry pancakes, as always, and starts talking as if they’ve been friends for a long time.

Ameer and Mirza are sitting across from each other, a path is cleared between them to allow the arm wrestling match. It seems like they’re both struggling, since Mirza will stay on top for a while, straining. Then Ameer will get a burst of strength and push his brother’s arm down toward the table. Neither of them have won yet.

Sydney is twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, talking to Nestor and occasionally Ameer. It’s always through gritted teeth and gasps if he does respond. She doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, no one looks bothered over the twins’ shenanigans.

Claris isn’t gathered with you guys, she’s actually sitting on the far end of the table off to the left. Hallie sits beside her, the two of them talk every now and then between long stretches of silence. However, the person that is sitting here with you guys, is Blaire.

He’s got one of his black curls pulled out, talking to Lennox and Trink. When he lets go, the curl bounces back into place as if it wasn’t out in the open just seconds before.

“Four people are going to be cut after this last fight, right?” Trink says, she’s squishing a blueberry between her fork and her plate.

“Yeah,” Lennox says, “The two lowest ranking initiates from both groups.”

Trink hums, “Who’s your two?”

Blaire gives her a look, and then you, “You first.”

“Amos and Ossie.” you say, carving your fingernail into the wooden table, “No question about it.”

Trink’s face twists for a moment, eyebrows raising, and then dropping. Like she’s trying to tell you that it isn’t set in stone. Like she’s trying to tell you that you’ve lost your last two fights, technically Ossie is ranked above you at the moment, and so is Trink.

That won’t last long. You’ll be winning tomorrow’s fight, no matter who it’s against.

“That was easy.” Lennox breathes out a laugh, and then he jabs his thumb to Claris and Hallie, “They’re out. Neither of them have won. They talk shit but the rest of us are taller and stronger than they are.”

Sydney pauses what she’s saying to Nestor to lean in, “The two of them talk like they own the world. Should’ve seen their faces when they got their asses kicked on the first day. Or when they couldn’t even move the punching bag.” Nestor nods in agreement.

“Huh,” you let out.

Blaire shrugs, “Just how it is.”

Trink leans her head against her hand, pushing her plate away now, “How was it working with Finnick and Thyme?”

The question makes Mirza lose at the arm wrestling match. Blaire stares at Trink for a long moment, his eyebrows drawing in, “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. I guess I should’ve asked if he mentioned anything about (Y/n). And what exactly did he say?”

You want to stomp on Trink’s foot beneath the table, but she’s not across from you. You wish that she wouldn’t go around asking questions like this. You don’t care what he said about you during the paintball match. In fact, you could guarantee that it’s not anything bad, because Finnick doesn’t bad-mouth until he’s absolutely certain that the other person is his enemy.

You press your lips together and scowl.

“Well,” Blaire looks uncomfortable, as he probably should be, “It’s complicated… I guess.”

“Oh, come on.” Trink waves her hand, “You can’t hurt her feelings, she’s a brick wall.”

You’re suddenly glad that she hasn’t seen you vulnerable just yet. And that you held yourself together after the incident in the Pit, hanging over the river. Otherwise she might be saying something else right now.

Blaire looks to Mirza for reassurance, but the twins are gone. The two of them have vanished without a single word. Blaire sighs, “Finnick said that the two of you had grown up together.” his eyes are on you, “And that you know everything about him, including his weaknesses. He also said that your actions are predictable which is why you aren’t threatening.”

Silence sweeps the table. You let the hotness take over your face first. Anger so rich and raw that you might as well be a reincarnated god. But there’s something bubbling in your chest, light and friendly. The exact opposite of war and bloodshed.

You try to stay straight-faced, but there’s a crack at the corner of your lips. Until you burst, tears forming in your eyes. The laugh is loud, but draws no attention from the other Dauntless around you. With the exception of the group you’re sitting with, of course. You end up covering your mouth, trying to be a bit more modest.

“Not threatening, huh?” You smile, running your finger over the divot you’ve carved into the table. Then, you look up to Blaire, “If I were you, I’d be skeptical.”

Blaire doesn’t respond right away, “What does that mean?”

“Well, for starters.” You place your palms on the table, getting ready to leave, “He doesn’t know me as well as he thinks.”

You stand up from the bench. The clock on the wall says that it’s ten minutes to eight, which means you’ll be arriving in the training room early if you leave now. It’ll give you a moment to think and reassess your next move.

You take a step forward, but then stop, “Finnick isn’t as put-together as he likes to show. It’s all a façade. I’ll be in the training room.”

You take your time leaving the dining hall, not seeing a reason to rush. You have more than enough time to get there, and you need to spend it all.

On the way out, you pass Finnick and Thyme.

You were wrong. You thought that Finnick would keep his opinions of you to himself. The two of you don’t know these people, and they weren’t in your business to begin with. So what is he doing, basically telling people that you’re weak?

A hand hooks around the inside of your elbow, keeping you from talking further.

You yank your arm out, turning to face Finnick, while putting distance between the two of you. The mere look on his face is enough for you to set your jaw, clenching your teeth together. A deer in headlights, a child acting like it doesn’t know what it did wrong, an act.

“Hey,” he says, even his voice is soft, like he’s trying to coax you, “Are you okay?”

Your first instinct is to snap and then run. Leave him blinded and shocked just like you were a couple of moments ago. But the longer you stare at him, the more you begin to realize that he’s not acting. He’s being genuine.

“I’m fine.” you force yourself to calm down, standing up so that you aren’t hunched over, “Thanks for asking, though.”

“Are you sure?” Finnick straightens out too, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You can see Thyme stalking over his shoulder, eyes boring right into yours. Watching, waiting. Probably wanting material to spread around to the others. Look at (Y/n), upset over this and not nearly as scary as she can seem at times. She’s probably the one that managed to convince Finnick that you aren’t threatening.

“Not with her around.” you snarl, looking past him, “You’re a goddamn coward, you know that? And it’s no surprise, you come from Amity.”

She backs up, face twisting when Finnick looks over his shoulder.

“Really?” you ask, moving forward. Finnick presses a hand to your chest, keeping you from going any further. You look at him dead in the eyes, “You’re stopping me? Why? She can take care of herself. If she’s going to cause problems, then she’s going to deal with the consequences.”

“You’re not thinking straight.” Finnick says, not affected by how angry you are.

You slap his hand off and shove him back in one move, “So? Does that scare you, Finnick? What happened to me not being threatening?”

Finnick’s confused for a second, but then his face smoothes over, and he’s shaking his head, “That’s what this is about?”

You grit your teeth, “Yes, Finnick, that’s why I’m upset.”

“You don’t know the context--”

“No!” your voice is loud, “Blaire told me the context. You said I wasn’t threatening because I’m so fucking predictable.” you shove him again, “If I’m so predictable to you, then why do you bother to stick around?”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, there’s an overwhelming silence that sits between you two. Thyme doesn’t even move from where she is, her hand is pressed against the wall as if she’ll fall over. What a drama queen.

It seems like you have attracted attention, though. Out of the corner of your eye, you’re able to see Damon coming your way. Why he’s still inside of the dining room when he eats earlier than everyone else, you don’t know. What you do know is that you’re about to get in trouble.

“Back up.” Damon says, motioning, “Now.”

You do, hands balling into fists. You should’ve hit him when you had the fucking chance to. Or lunged straight towards Thyme, who’s playing up the innocent act again.

“Where are you going?” he looks at you first.

“The training room.”

Then his eyes land on Finnick and Thyme. Finnick’s the one to speak, “For breakfast.”

“Go.” he tells them, not leaving from where he stands. He waits until Finnick and Thyme are clearly inside before turning to you, “I remember being told that Laurel issued a warning about fighting.”

“Yeah, I was there for it,” you say, “But I didn’t hit him, so it doesn’t count.”

“Shoving counts.” Damon says, “Don’t do it again.”

“Sure.” you say, “Sorry.”

You turn and leave before he tries to talk to you anymore. You’re already testing his patience by being short with him. You head straight into the darkness, nails digging into your palms. The walk to the training room isn’t as serene as you originally wanted it to be. With every step you take, you can only find more reason to be angry.

There’s so many things you should’ve said to him.

By the time you get to the actual room, you’re only slightly calmed down. There’s no doubt that you just made things worse between you and Finnick. But to be fair, it’s no thanks to Trink. You don’t know whether or not to be angry at her. If she hadn’t asked the questions in the first place, then you’d still be on the road to recovery with Finnick.

It all conflicts with the fact that you wouldn’t have known what Finnick said if she hadn’t asked. You didn’t know he was talking about you like that. And sometimes it’s good to be underestimated, but here it’s not. It’s the simplest way for you to end up factionless.

Laurel and Caspian are already inside when you get there. They barely look up at first, too focused on what they’re hovering over. Laurel then suddenly raises her head, a murmur sounding from her. Caspian has to turn his body to see.

You give them a gentle wave.

“Don’t touch anything just yet.” he says, motioning you to stand somewhere.

Along the wall of the entrance sits tables with knives on them. All of them black, with identical blades and sizes. On the other side of the room are targets, much like the ones you’ve used to shoot guns. It looks like you get to try your hand at something new today.

It’s hard to be excited when there’s a hateful feeling in your stomach, telling you that Finnick will have no trouble keeping his streak. He’ll nail the middle of the target and then immediately turn to Thyme to gloat. You can’t help but to wonder if he genuinely thinks he’s winning in Dauntless right now, because you wouldn’t think so. Not when your best friend is halfway out of the door.

You pick a spot on the far side, shoving your hands into your pockets while you stare at the wood. If you strain hard enough to hear, you can listen in on what Laurel and Caspian are talking about. And it honestly sounds like they’re discussing the pairs for tomorrow’s fights. You thought they would have worked this all out this morning, but you guess you were wrong.

You have to win, no matter what. Or you will end up in last place. And instead of Ossie being cut, it will be you. You and Amos.

It’s funny, really. For a second, you really thought that you were on top of the world. You didn’t know just how quickly it would all fall back down. How you wouldn’t be able to catch everything--anything. It took a week to break all that you’ve worked towards your entire life.

You still have enough time to turn it around and end up on top. All you have to do is pass this first stage, and then you could blow everyone out of the water. You have the power to. You just have to apply yourself more.

A couple of minutes later, the others begin to arrive in their own groups. The first is Ossie and Amos, the next is your three new friends, and the last is Finnick and Thyme. This time, they’re the ones keeping their distance, placing themselves firmly on the other side of the room.

If Caspian has any questions rising, he doesn’t ask them. You do catch the quick look between you and Finnick, though. As if he’s trying to decipher it for himself. His eyes find yours again, and you give him a gentle head shake, letting him know that things are not what they are anymore. You wish it weren’t this complicated.

“Tomorrow is the final fight, and it will also be the last day of stage one.” Caspian says, he stands near the chalkboard, shouting across the room. His voice carries well, you don’t have to turn your head to hear him better.

“Today, you’ll be learning how to aim.” Laurel continues for him, “Pick up three knives, and pay attention. No one will be excused from tomorrow’s fighting, so try not to hurt yourselves.”

You all begin to wander over to the knives. You pick up the first one in your hands, and you can’t help but to notice just how light it is. It’s not as heavy as the one in your aptitude test, or the one back home in Abnegation. This is as light as a feather, easily movable. It reminds you of the knife you used to cut your hand during the Choosing Ceremony.

You pick up the other two, being careful not to cut your hands.

“I’ll demonstrate, so pay attention!” Laurel shouts.

Once you’re all back in your respective places, all eyes are on her. You have to move around a little to see better, and you can’t help but to curse yourself for choosing this end of the room. But then again, you didn’t want to invade on Caspian and Laurel’s privacy, clearly it was an important conversation.

Laurel is smooth and flawless with her throws. One after the other, each one hits the dead center of the target. Once all three knives are gone, she backs away from the target. You have to move again to see that she’s thrown her knives so that they make a triangle.

“Line up!” she yells, “And get to throwing! Caspian and I will observe.”

You remember the first time you shot the gun they gave you. It’s almost hard to believe that was only five days ago. At the rate things have been moving around you, it almost feels like a year.

Automatically, you find yourself readjusting your stance to mirror what Laurel had looked like. She had her dominant forward just a little more, body turned to the side to allow her dominant arm move free range. You extend and tense your arm a couple of times, getting a feel for the throw.

You have to remember to exhale when you let go.

And make sure not to think too much or you’ll hesitate.

You draw your arm back, knife handle in your hand. Your eyes land on the red circle in the middle of the wood. You hold your breath for a moment, pausing to readjust, and then you throw.

For a second, all you can hear is the sound of knives bouncing off the wall. No one has made it even close to their target. So why are you so sure that you’re going to be different?

Well, because you are.

The knife lodges in the red circle. It’s nowhere near perfect, since it’s off center and barely hanging on. But you are the first.

“Wow!” Trink lets out, “That’s luck!”

You prepare the second knife in your hand, drawing your arm back the same way, correcting for the middle. This time, when the knife hits the wooden board, you are much closer to the center. You’re too eager for the third knife, excitement bubbling up your throat and to your cheeks. An infectious smile fills your face when the third knife is in the center.

A hand slaps on your shoulder, “You’re a natural.” Caspian’s hand slips slightly as he moves around you to take a better look. He lets out a slight whistle.

Eytelle and Allio are nodding along, looking enthusiastic.

You can’t help yourself, though. You thank Caspian, but move to look at Finnick and Thyme, to watch them throw. You catch Finnick’s eyes for a brief second, clearly he was watching you. It’s your turn to take notes now.

You felt this exact same way when you first shot the handgun. To know that you were so close to the center circle, only for Finnick to best you. Finnick moves his hand, showing you that he still has all three knives in his hands. It’s an under-the-table move, not noticeable unless you’re paying close attention. Which means that Thyme completely misses it. The blades glint in the light.

He raises his arm, Thyme pauses what she’s doing to watch him. She’s already missed her first two knives. Finnick takes in a deep breath when he throws, and this is where he goes wrong. You’ll give him credit, because the knife hits the board. But it’s a corner, and clatters to the ground without sticking.

Finnick’s face twists, and when he turns to you--

You’ve already got both hands up, formed in an ‘X’.

Figuring that you’ve reached the point of no return yesterday, you went ahead and switched beds after dinner. Originally, you’d been sleeping over Finnick. Now you’re over Trink, since she’s the one that has an open bunk. You went to bed before you got a chance to see Finnick’s reaction, but you can tell by the way he’s acting this morning, that he’s upset.

He’s normally chatty in the morning, whether it had been with you, or Thyme. But no matter how many times Thyme tries to start a conversation with him, he only lets out one word answers. Which is a telltale sign that Finnick is not as okay as he’s been projecting. Another reason why Thyme doesn’t fit the space, she thinks about herself first and not the people around her.

Abnegation-raised children have been taught to focus on others before them. Like Candor, you begin to be able to pick out the little things from others reactions and body language. You might not be able to ask about it, but you’re supposed to notice it so that it’s easier to avoid the topic.

Thyme knows nothing about this, which means she doesn’t know when to leave things be instead of trying to fill the silence.

There’s a tight feeling of smugness in your chest. Finnick is going to be the one to apologize, not you. Not like you have a reason to, anyway. You already did and he ignored you, as if it hadn’t existed at all. You weren’t bluffing, it was a genuine apology.

You start out of the bathroom, fully dressed, shoes on, minty breath. All you have to do is wait for Trink to get ready, and then the four of you can head to the dining hall so you can watch and wait for them to eat. You already decided that you shouldn’t eat this morning. With the way everyone has been going at your stomach, it’s the only real choice you have. Unless you want to puke all over the floor, of course.

Trink’s in the middle of braiding her hair, talking to Eytelle. Allio is still in the bathroom, you saw him wander into the shower area just before he shut the curtain. He said that it should only take a couple of minutes. So, you suppose that you should correct yourself. You’re waiting on Allio, not Trink.

You start toward the girls, a question to start conversation already appearing on your tongue. But it all dies when someone appears in your path, tall and towering over you, like he always does. You press your lips together and look up at Finnick. And you can’t help but to think that this scene is all too familiar.

But the last time you checked, you moved out of the way.

“We should talk.” Finnick says, his voice is gentle, face smoothed over.

“Yeah?” you ask, eyebrows raising slightly.

You will not be the one apologizing this time.

He takes his time before speaking. Letting out a small breath, sucking in one between his teeth. He does this every single time, you know what to expect. He’ll start his sentence off with the apology, and then what he did wrong.

Finnick takes in a final breath, “I need you to hear me out.”

No.

No, this is wrong.

You stare at him, almost wanting to hold your breath.

This is the second time you’ve been wrong about Finnick would or wouldn’t do.

Finnick takes your silence as a good sign to keep talking, “When I said that to my team, I was still angry at you for blowing me off.”

Now you hold your breath, teeth settling in. He’s wrong, you didn’t blow him off. You apologized, you told him why you’ve been acting this way. It’s the other way around, he’s the one that confronted you and didn’t even listen. As if he didn’t care in the first place, and just wanted to find a way to get at you.

“I should have phrased what I said differently, though.” Finnick pauses for a moment, “Your turn.”

Your turn?

“That was not an apology,” are the first words to leave your mouth, eager, slick and pissed.

Finnick stares at you, like he’s thinking it over. It’s just five words, straight-forward all by itself. But then his lips press together, and his face begins to turn red, eyebrows turning downward. He’s acting like you’re in the wrong here. You’ve apologized, you’ve expressed your dislike for Thyme, so why does he keep on pushing it? What the fuck does he want from you?

“You are brave.” Finnick’s words are low.

He doesn’t scare you.

You know him in and out.

You know his darkest secrets.

How is he going to scare you?

“I’m the brave one?” you ask him slowly, “Last time I checked, I already fucking apologized. You were the one that didn’t listen. You were the one that brushed me off. Don’t come to me acting like the victim.

“Not to mention, Finnick,” you spit his name, “You didn’t even say that you regret what you said to your team. You said that you would rephrase it. It’s a fucking excuse, and I don’t do excuses. You owe me an apology.”

“For what?” he asks.

You explode, voice loud, “What the fuck do you mean ‘for what’?” you’re shaking your head, “I just fucking told you! Do you want another reason, then? You’ve been treating Thyme, over there, like your fucking best friend as if I’m not here. She’s the devil on your shoulder, Finnick. Won’t you open your eyes?”

Finnick shoves you back, you catch your footing in time to make it look natural. You don’t see this as a good sign, though. He’s angry, “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Why not? Don’t like facing the truth--?”

“Because she’s my fucking friend, (Y/n)!” Finnick shouts back, “You called her a bitch and you don’t have a shred of sympathy!”

He gestures over his shoulder, straight at Thyme. She’s sitting on her bed, looking like she’s enjoying herself, watching the two of you go at each other like this. You watch as she fakes a pout, bites her lip, and then turns her head away. Her shoulders shake, pretending to cry. But her giggle is unmistakable.

It takes everything in you not to lunge at her.

The oven controlling your body is only getting hotter. You can feel your fingernails digging into the skin on your palm. Your eyes flash to Finnick, “Why should I? She’s not my fucking friend, she’s yours!”

You move forward, “And I know this might be shocking to you, but I’m your friend. I’ve been your best friend for years! So why are you so hellbent on keeping her, and not me? Aren’t I more valuable than this?”

Finnick stares, no response coming from him.

Your jaw sets, “During the Choosing Ceremony, before I came to Dauntless, I thought it would be an even trade. To take you, and leave my family behind. Clearly, I was fucking wrong.”

The anger washes away from his face, his mouth opening. You can see his hand raising to grab onto you.

You jerk away, “Don’t worry Finnick, this is all fine to me.” you give him a sneer, “Just don’t forget that I know all of your secrets. And there’s nothing stopping me from using them anymore.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, hand frozen out to grab you.

“It’s time to go to the training room.” Trink’s voice cuts the silence that deafens the room.

No one moves from where they are. Not even Ossie and Amos left early to get breakfast. They’re still near the door, hand poised on the handle, like they had been expecting the fight to only last a couple of seconds. Or for the two of you to kiss and make up and let this all be over and in the past.

You’re the first to straighten.

“Okay,” you say, still staring at Finnick, “Let’s go then.”

Ossie and Amos scoot out of the door first. Trink holds it open for you, before letting Allio take it next. She keeps to your side, glancing at your face every now and then like she expects it to change. But there’s an unmistakable anger that’s bubbling in your stomach and popping in your chest. Like lava.

She’s wise enough not to say anything.

You all arrive late to the training room. Caspian has his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the door when you walk in. He doesn’t look happy at all, and neither does Laurel. You’re guessing it’s because Mags is standing right there, hands behind her back, assessing each and every one of you as you enter.

“Where’s Finnick and Thyme?” Caspian barks.

“Oh, they’re coming.” you snarl.

Caspian’s eyes linger on you, but you’re more focused on the board behind him. To see who’s fighting who. They’re standing directly in it, purposefully blocking your view. You hope it’s Thyme. You hope it’s Thyme. You hope it’s Thyme.

You hope it’s Thyme.

After a few more beats of silence, the door to the training room opens.

Caspian tilts his head slightly, like he’s unsure what to make of today’s newfound tension.

But then he moves out of the way.

And there’s an explosion of pleasurable bliss that fills your body.

You will not be fighting Thyme.

You will be fighting the man himself.

You grin, head turning to see Finnick’s reaction. He’s stoic, staring ahead at the board, not entertaining you. It’s fine, Finnick. You already know what you need to. You saw him reach out. You saw the look of remorse. Everyone did. There’s no point in being so guarded now.

The chalkboard reads:

You and Finnick.

Trink and Thyme.

Allio and Amos.

Eytelle and Ossie.

“Oh, she’s going to get her ass demolished.” Trink cracks her knuckles.

“(Y/n) and Finnick.” Caspian calls, watching.

“Good luck.” Trink says, Eytelle and Allio echo her.

You resist the urge to skip to the circle.

When you get there, you crack and stretch every place you can think of, letting Finnick take his time. In the meantime, you go over every single detail that you’ve logged over the years and the past couple of days. Finnick has only been hit twice, both in places that are insignificant. You shouldn’t spend your time focusing on them.

You need to watch the way he moves, and predict his hits before he makes them. If you stay ahead of the game, then Finnick will have no opportunity to get at you. And if he does, it’ll be minor chances that won’t have a single affect on you.

You will come out as the winner of this fight.

Even if that means to put the remainder of your friendship on the line.

You roll your ankles in front of you, stretch your shoulders back and forth. You can feel every little ache in your body. Unfortunately, you’re going to be defensive in some areas, even if you don’t want to be. You were smart to give up during Ossie’s fight when you did. Otherwise you’d be hurting so much worse right now.

There’s a few things that Finnick’s going to want out of this fight. The first is a quick and easy win. He wins this, he keeps his perfect streak of no losses and no major injuries. He gets to impress Mags, and the fight won’t be dragged on for longer than a couple of minutes.

So you need to do the exact opposite.

You’re the first to raise your fists, he follows suit. You can’t help but to smile, “What’s the matter, Finnick? You’re looking a little blue.” his face hardens, “Something happen?”

He moves forward, “Shut up.”

You don’t move, standing your ground, “Sounds like you’re a little scared. Am I suddenly threatening to you?”

His arm twitches, you jump back, out of the way completely just to be safe. You’re not sure if he’s going to pull an Allio and swing at you with his non-dominant hand. You’ve already made that mistake, so it won’t be happening again.

“A little unpredictable?”

If Finnick is twitching, you’ve broken the mask. Finnick is supposed to have smooth movements. He’s always had smooth movements.

“Stop fucking with him and fight.” Caspian barks.

You ignore him. You have a plan, and antagonizing Finnick is on the list. You need him to stay angry, so that his actions aren’t hidden. It’s almost like what Ossie did to Allio on the first day, except you’re being verbal. It’s easier to get under Finnick’s skin this way. You need to stay one step ahead of him.

You move toward Finnick now, remembering the way that he had started all three of his fights. You need to find a way to get Finnick down. As long as he’s standing, he has an advantage on you. There’s no way you’re going to get a good hit on his face, he’ll be able to catch your arm before you’re even close.

Maybe if you get his guard down?

You’re prepared for Finnick’s swing, he likes to take the first hit, usually. You manage to lean out of the way before driving your fist into his stomach, backing off immediately after. His face is a shade of red, slightly twisted in pain. Unlike Allio, Finnick doesn’t absorb hits as well. He’s not used to being hit.

Finnick comes closer, crossing the circle straight instead of slowly shuffling to get to you. You don’t move at first, still trying to stay with the ‘keep your ground’ strategy. But the closer he draws, the more you realize that you can’t escape this. You can’t come up with a plan and stall. You need to give Mags something to make you stick out.

You head towards him too. Finnick is not the only initiate in this room who can match energy.

You jerk to the side, watching as Finnick immediately goes to correct his path so that you’re in his line of sight. You wonder if Finnick really has a need to show off and drag this fight out for Mags. He rarely switches up routine, so you’d like to say that he doesn’t. It’s the whole reason why he can be terrifying sometimes.

Everyone knows how he likes his matches by now, which is probably why Finnick has been put to fight first after the first fight. Because his is the quickest and easiest, you know what to expect to happen and how it’ll end. You can see why people would be afraid of him for this reason. If something isn’t broken, why replace it? Finnick has won all his matches in three punches or less, why try to change that?

It’s more impressive to get someone down without severely injuring them anyway, right? It’s like a demonstration of raw power. And with you being on the opposite end of the spectrum… it’s like you always have something to prove.

You can feel your face drop, eyebrows drawing in.

No, everyone in Dauntless has something to prove. If you don’t, then there’s no point in being here. If you’re not proving that you’re strong, or brave, or--for fuck’s sake--threatening, you won’t be considered an equal. And if there’s anything, anyone ever wants, it’s to be an equal or above.

This brings you to another infuriating realization. Finnick does not see you as his equal.

Without a single thought going into the move, your fist flies across Finnick’s cheek. His head turns, eyes widening. You duck, he misses, you’re back on your feet in time to slam your shoe into his ribs. When you move forward again to keep the rhythm, Finnick backs up, eyes darting across your body.

You fix your hands before he decides that’s a good place to target. You need to make sure he stays away from your nose and stomach. Everything else on your body is free reign, you could give less of a shit. But if you break your nose again, you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop the blood flow this time.

Finnick presses his hand to his ribs for a moment, his hand looks shaky. He stops backing up, now that he’s assessed the damage to his ribs and completely ignored his face. It’s a shame too, Finnick’s always been cute.

He moves towards you, you try not to back up too much. You still need a way to get him down without aiming at his face. You got lucky with the face shot, it will not happen again. Like you, Finnick tends to be more careful with spots that were just hit. If you want to try again, you’d have to find another way to wind up to get there.

Then again, you didn’t even think about it. One second you were standing there, and the next your knuckles were throbbing.

You bounce from side to side, watching him. You just barely catch the way he leans forward, throwing all of his weight into his punch. You twist your head to the side, which changes Finnick’s course of punching your nose, to your jaw instead. You recover better this way, ignoring the complaints from the nerves in your teeth.

Without much of a choice, you punch Finnick’s stomach, using the weight idea that he had originally used. The silence in the room is temporarily disturbed when he gasps, trying to suck in air to replace what you’ve stolen. You squeeze your fist tighter, bringing your arm back to do it again.

Finnick’s hand envelopes your fist, catching it before you land the hit. It isn’t until he’s twisting your arm, do you realize what he’s about to do. It’s the exact same thing he did with Eytelle. Trap her, twist her arm, two punches and she was out like a light.

You need out, right now.

You yank, ignoring the pain in your wrist. Finnick’s raising his arm, face stoic and staring into your eyes. You need to break the mask. You saw his face when you told him what happened at the Choosing Ceremony. You need to do something like that again.

You grab his wrist with your other hand, not pulling away as prominently now. You let tears flood your eyes, “Don’t, please.”

At the softness of your voice, Finnick’s arm isn’t as tensed, his face matching the emotion you’re giving him. He still plans on punching you, just not as hard. Which is good enough for you. He’s fallen for it.

Your left hand hits his chest, full-force, dead-on. He loosens his grip, but not enough for you to regain your right hand. You twist your arm until your wrist is grabbing his, before kicking his legs from underneath him.

He pulls you down with him, making you land on top. The two of you scramble to get the upper hand, but it’s easier for you. You place your hips on top of his, struggling to get your wrist free. He’s got a lock of iron, and no matter how much twisting you do, he doesn’t budge.

You lean forward for a moment, slamming your right foot on top of his wrist, keeping it from moving. This means that you have limited mobility, though. And he’s still got full use of his right hand.

Finnick knows this, his arm is already raising. All he has to do is turn his upper body and he’ll be able to hit your face. You could try to catch his wrist, but he’s got enough force to plow through whatever you’ll be able to do.

You still have access to your left foot.

Right as Finnick unwinds, you slam your foot across his jaw. You can hear his teeth snap against each other, head hitting the wooden floor. He finally releases your wrist though, which is enough for you. His hands cup his face, but it won’t last long.

The first punch is to his chest, making his body cave in temporarily. The next is to his nose, blood running down the side of his face and pooling on the floor. You aim for his nose again, and this time you’re filled with a fluttery pleasurable feeling, hearing the snap fill the air.

A pain explodes across your mouth, bringing tears to your eyes. You back off of Finnick for a moment, allowing him to shove you off of his body. You scoot back, not wanting to close your mouth. But you can’t help it anymore, gritting your teeth to combat the pain. You taste metal immediately.

And see red right after.

You lunge for Finnick, who’s trying to get on his feet. He’s moving slower than usual, which is probably because he’s rubbing the blood from his mouth to avoid the problem you’re currently facing. He doesn’t see you coming. Your body collides with his again, fist raised and slamming against his mouth this time.

Let’s see if he likes how it feels.

The two of you end up in the same position as last time, only he’s twisted at an uncomfortable angle, and you’re straddling his hip. You can’t help yourself, aiming for his cheekbone. The more injuries reside on his face, the more proof it is that you beat Finnick. The more the lesson sinks in.

You are just as good as he is. And he was stupid to think otherwise.

This is his punishment.

The tunnel vision begins as soon as you start a pattern. Each time you blink, his face gets worse. First his nose, then his swollen lips, then the red splotches across his cheekbone. Your knuckles catch his jaw, slamming his head into the ground harder. The more you lean forward, the more leverage you begin to have.

And Finnick is pushing, blocking his face while he tries to find an opening. But it’s hard to block his entire face with just a forearm. You should know, because it’s one of the flaws that he couldn’t pick at.

One hit after the other, your hands begin to coat red. Your knuckles begin to ache, arms becoming sore, too much protest because of how much force you’re using. You can’t help it, there’s no other way to keep him down. Any other place, and he would just get up again.

Your hand raises for his eye, and you get halfway through the move before there’s a pair of hands grabbing your arms, yanking you off of Finnick. You struggle for a moment, but the hands are gone as quickly as they came. The person throws you away from your former friend, and moves in.

It’s Laurel, hovering over him like she doesn’t know where to begin.

There’s throbbing in your temples, a headache beginning to form. You wonder why the room is so quiet at first, then you realize that there’s an intense ringing in your ears, taking it’s time to fade out. By the time you regain your hearing, Laurel is saying something about calling the doctor, Cleo, and having her bring an extra pair of hands to wheel Finnick out.

You can feel a dripping sensation beneath your nose. You reach up to touch the area, and come back with red. You don’t remember your nose getting hit, and you can’t tell if this is your blood or Finnick’s.

“Please.” a whisper fills the room.

Your eyes land on Finnick, who’s nothing but a mess of blood and tears. Did he call the end of the fight? You don’t remember hearing that either. In fact, you don’t think you remember anything. Only the feeling of skin-on-skin contact, over and over and over...

Laurel gently tells him that the fight is over, before she looks over her shoulder at you.

You think you can see disappointment. Or maybe it’s anger.

All you know is that you struggle to stand on your own two legs, smearing blood on the floor. You can feel your legs tremble beneath you. Your hands are the same way, not staying in the same place for longer than half a second, coated in red. Your palms, really, are the only safe place that isn’t touched by Finnick’s blood. You can feel droplets running down the back of your arms.

“Holy shit, (Y/n),”

You look over to see Caspian, drained of color. He’s surprised, why? Did he not see the way you fought Allio? Or does that not compare? Mags doesn’t look the same way, she just stares. You don’t know what to say to either of them, so you don’t. You slowly back out of the white circle.

And then the words come to mind, “I couldn’t lose,” it’s quiet, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “And he needed to.”

You’re not sure if needed is the word, you guess it doesn't really matter.

You won, Finnick lost.

And neither of you can come back from this.

Not anymore.

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

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cipher-fresh · 3 years ago

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Just Out Of Reach

Posting on tumblr due to Discord's character limit, this one's a lot longer than my other ones. A prompt from @marlinspirkhall about how food on the holodeck doesn't exist once you step off it got me thinking. TW for violence, injury, blood, food, eating disorders I think (?? rather safe than sorry) and long-term distress. Thank you for the Federation gothic prompt!

It's fuzzy, you remember the ship leaving spacedock after repairs, and some of the anticipatory silence as the odd lack of Dominion ships greeted your rush toward the Bajoran sector to help recapture Deep Space Nine and the Bajoran wormhole. You had never been this far away from home, but you'd tried to steel yourself. The red alert had blared in your ears, and you don't remember much else. You look down. You're bleeding. You curse, and look around for medical supplies.

You're in a dark building, with debris strewn around. A force field makes it's presence known as a hurtling piece of Dominion ship tailwing is stopped in it's tracks from perhaps it's original destiny of destroying wherever you were. If there was a forcefield up, there must be an energy source. You find you had crash-landed here, as there's an escape pod near the fallen bulkheads. You saddle up with the materials from the escape pod, and hunt around for any available resources on whatever man-made, oxygenated building you'd been lucky enough to land in. You put your bag down, and take off your Starfleet outer shirt. You're still wearing the gray undershirt, and over it you tie the main shirt over the wound. You wish it had been an easier area to tie, like your lower leg, and press on. After a trek over fallen metal, everything from large carts, a whole shuttle, bulkheads and PADDs, you find the opposite wall, marked with a plaque designating it the Miyamoto, a mini-space station hardly the size of a neighborhood street. Some place, you scoff. It feels like a shadowy castle fallen into disrepair, with the flickering lights looking like the occasional sunbeam brightening it. Atmospheric, at least, if it wasn't going to comfortable. It feels as if you could almost hear sad music, accentuating just quite how dark the station was, cold and alone. The Miyamoto station echoes sadly, the destruction and carnage of Dominion and Federation ships making their final stand above the station feeling long off, although you could place it as happening mere hours ago. Continuing onward, you clear a path the best you can of the debris on the ground, in case you round this area again.

You see places that look like shops- the *Miyamoto*, as per it's informational plaque, was a station commissioned and controlled by Starfleet, but it had housed many Federation-aligned planets, that is to say, planets that hadn't joined the Federation for one reason or another, but remained in contact with it, politically or economically. Your journey around the station ends as you look back down at your outer shirt, wrapped around your torso wound, and it's too red with blood for comfort. You take an unfortunate, seething inhale, processing what this might mean. You have no other than the most basic medical supplies on your bag, and you're alone on a mini-space station with debris that was ripe to fall over and crush you at any time. Nobody else seems to have crashed near you. You're alone, on an at least semi-functioning, mini-space station. And you were determined to survive. The bleeding cut on your torso should be dealt with first. Can't look for food or set up a distress call if you're bleeding to death. You take a tricorder from the bag, and scan around for anything useful. It picks up gauze a few meters ahead of you. Better than your shirt, certainly. You navigate toward it with the tricorder's map, and it navigates you to a holodeck, you recognize from the doors. Gauze in the holodeck? You thought the violin music had been a symptom of a bleeding body and the brain processing your day, but no, the violin was louder. Getting closer to the holodeck, that made more sense. It was extremely lucky the program was still running. You walk inside. The inside is a gothic, turn-of-the-century sort of laboratory. Indeed, a holodeck character playing a violin spots you, and huffs.

"You're bleeding. Are you looking for my partner, Dr. Watson?"

You take a moment- oh, this was a Sherlock Holmes program. You doubt Dr. Watson could help you, but then you take a moment to think. Emergency Medical Holograms are just as holographic as Dr. Watson here, and they have helped millions of people. You're too tired to act, so you ask him, "Yes, I need a doctor. Can you get him?" Too much also eating at your mind to enjoy the program, Dr. Watson fixes you up in the flat. You wince at the old medical technology, and wish the two of them lived in a period of time with more current medicinal knowledge. - Wait. "Computer?" you say. "Change the time period to, uh, 22nd century. No, I mean, to today. 24th century. Keep Sherlock and Watson with me." The computer responds to your request, and you see the program change around you. You laugh at the mystery-solving duo's updated outfits for the 24th century, then look back at Dr. Watson. It's a little jarring how seamlessly they continue from the jump in time, but better that than their program stop working. Watson asks a replicator- a holographic replicator, which makes you laugh a little bit, for a dermal regenerator, and you get patched up. "Stick around for a cup of tea?" Watson asks. "Sherlock really wants to know why you broke into our flat." You consider it. You've heard jokes from non-Federation species when trying out holodecks for the first time, "Calories don't count on the holodeck!" Anything you eat here wouldn't sustain you, the minute you left the holodeck. You could activate this program so long as there was energy to the station, but food was a priority. Assuming the *Miyamoto* had been in a tussle just a few hours ago during your fly-over to Deep Space Nine, now was a crucial time to find genuine replicators before they went offline. You leave the holodeck. You see the gauze over your injury (kept for good measure) disappear as you exit the holodeck, but not the skin you'd grown back from the dermal regenerator. The gauze was holographic, but the stimulated skin cells and tissues were not. You follow the path set by rounding around the small, circular station, and tracing your steps back through the cleared path you made. Your injury healed, you could now look around and find something to eat. You follow around a downloaded map of the *Miyamoto* from the plaque's infochip, and hunt down all the replicators marked on the station. One by one, they're all broken, in pieces, or missing. Maybe the station was in poor shape to begin with. You take another trip around- at least you're getting plenty of exercise in, you halfheartedly cheer- and visit all the food shops. You raid the fridges, cabinets and cupboards, and still find nothing. Intending to not be disheartened, you sit down for a moment. Your hunger is suddenly made aware to you, your vision swirling. Not good, you decide. Your stomach hurts, and you try to remember the last time you ate. Breakfast on- on the *USS Halay*. Maybe tea with Dr. Watson wouldn't be so bad, you assure yourself. You have some food with the two of them, think of a new plan, then go back out there and find some food. Some water, while you're at it, too. You walk back, and almost trip over debris you swore you moved out of your path. You enter back to the holodeck, and smell the fresh air. You find Watson and Sherlock again, and you're offered a pastry you can't remember the name of. You eat, and have some tea, and you feel at peace. You're still directly aware of the stakes, you're stuck on a space station in the middle of nowhere, but you're at least still alive. And going from desperately hungry out there to the sweet scent of buttered pastries in here in a still-peaceful London before the Dominion invaded was a sense of home you'd missed. You sat down, and considered your optics. If you left now, you'd probably be just as hungry as before, but here, you could come up with a plan, and make the time before it worth it. You clued in the holographic Sherlock and Watson into it, without exposing to them they were holograms. Quite tricky, it was, but you were glad they got over

their suspicions and were just willing to help. You and the two problem-solvers looked over the schematics of the *Miyamoto*, and found from your walkaround of the station, the replicator at the Bolarian food shop was the least broken- it had gotten halfway to forming bread before it puttered out. Although not quite a chief engineer, this seemed to be your only option. You picked back up your supplies from the escape pod that you'd kept with you, and journey off to the replicator. You feel the distinct hunger pangs as soon as you leave, and almost regret leaving. Little matter. You'd already gone and done it, you might as well make it worthwhile. You get to the replicator, and try to recall your engineering training. Basic engineering design over necessary machines like replicators and transporters were required classes at the Academy, and you couldn't remember a thing from it. You open a hatch at the back and fiddle with some of the wires and steel EPS hubcaps, and put everything back into place. Not ever quite sure what to do, you feel a fog in your brain, you know you're putting a square peg in a round hole as you try to fix this. You screw things on and off, scan it, flip a switch. Closing the hatch, you hit it for good measure, and try replicating food again. It produces a gray slop of what could only technically be edible, organic material. You take your tricorder out and get a holo-scan of it. A moment of darkness in your vision, you fall to the ground. You're really feeling it. You hold a hand to your stomach, and close your eyes tight. It hurts, it does. You could make the feeling go away, if you just went back.

A deep breath, and you turned around. Just back for a second.

Desperate to get back to the holodeck, you're assured you can figure out the replicator's problem with the holo-imager scans. You get back inside, and feel the pleasant, clean air, and walk back inside. Ravenously, you scarf down the food given to you, and you can feel your mind finding clarity again. If you could find a way to fix the replicator while inside the holodeck, you'd be set. You could fix it there, and only be hungry from the minute you walked over to the replicator, no brain fog as you tried to fix it. Maybe engineers had "Don't fix things on an empty stomach" as a rule. If not, they should. You spend a few more hours there, going over the specs of the replicator, sitting in the nice flat. It's an amalgamation of every depiction of 221B ever put to screen, and all the books are real, wholly scripted ones. You chuckle, certainly sure only a man of fiction could read so many books, bookshelves stacked wall to wall. Many of them had frantically scribbled notes and writings in them. After some time, you fall asleep. You're woken up by Watson, telling you again that you need to wake up. You rub your eyes, and consider everything from the day previous. Hungry, stuck on a space station with no food, and surviving in the holodeck. This would be a lovely nightmare to wake up from, eh? Lovely, for the fact you're waking up, you joke. "-get out there and find something to eat or your body will starve. Please. The program-" You burst out from under the blanket on the couch. Dr. Watson looks at you. "Sherlock and I put together that you're on a holodeck. Incredible inventions, truthfully, but what is more important now is your life. You haven't eaten in how long? A human would starve after not eating for-"

"About a week. But without water is a different story. Three days, at most." Sherlock filled in. You swallowed. Wonderful. You look back at Watson. "Please, we're trying to help you. You need to head back out there." That's the last thing you want to do.

Neither of them were being helpful. "Look, we can't leave the holodeck. All we can do is-" "I don't care!" you yell. "I'll just-stay in here until I figure it out." The two exchanged looks with each other. Watson got closer to you. You feel small. Threatened. "You're Starfleet, right? You haven't even given us your name. How about you-" You lash out. "Computer, delete characters Sherlock and Watson." "Not possible." "Fine! Delete whatever you need to get rid of them." "Confirmed." the computer says. The two of them phase out of existence. You breathe heavily. You hope they won't be mad at you. "Computer, change scenery. Somewhere on Earth. As far away from Sherlock as possible." "Changing location to Dunedin, New Zealand." the computer replied. You stop, and catch your breath. You'd just- stay in here. For a while. Yeah.

The systems of the Miyamoto station degrade. The holodeck, over time, begins to lose critical imaging projectors. One corner of the holodeck shows the depressingly bare and black wall, the whole program not covering the entire room. You try not to mind. You sleep. If you could just- just learn how to fix the replicator....no. You have everything you need right in here. Everything....you need. You take an arduous breath. The holodeck doors have sealed shut. The imagers have stopped working. You're trapped inside. A lone Starfleet officer starves to death on a holodeck, over an agonizing three days, just as Sherlock predicted. The Miyamoto station is destroyed by the Breen a year later, unimportant and completely alone. If one listened closely, passing an unimportant, tiny little station, they may have heard faint music of a violin.

#star trek #my writing #federation gothic #uss lilac #blood #dominion war #ds9 #wasn't planning to add sherlock holmes to the mix but when I had the injury and the violin i couldn't resist

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accioecho · 4 years ago

Text

Tkem Novel 12

Chapter 15 - “The secret only I know”

Tae-Eul thought over what Nari said.

“If there are two identical worlds, then one is bound to destroy the other.”

She wished Gon would come back soon. She wished he would appear right there, right then, in her courtyard atop Maximus.

Carrying this secret alone was too much of a burden and she felt lonely.

—

Chapter 16 - “Even if the flower doesn’t bloom”

After a long day at the station, Tae-Eul was finally on her way back home. Instead of heading inside the warmth of her house though, she stopped in front of it and took the time to water the small flower pot that contained the seeds she bought in the Kingdom. Crouching down, she carefully examined the surface of the planter.

Only soil was visible underneath the soft glow of the street lights.

“Why won’t you sprout?”

Rationally, she knew it was because they came from another world. Just thinking about the fact that these flowers may never bloom left her disappointed.

Gon was still away and these flowers would probably never bloom.

Tae-Eul stared at the pot for a long while, lost in her thoughts. Finally standing up, she lightly tapped her legs with her two hands.

“How have you been?”

The voice she longed to hear all this time rang clear in the empty courtyard. Turning around, Tae-Eul saw Gon standing tall, donning a dark coat. Still struck by his sight, she simply nodded.

“Have you been waiting for me?”

Unable to tear her eyes away from him, she nodded once more.

From the Kingdom of Corea to the Republic of Korea.

Crossing universes.

Tae-Eul knew how far these two worlds were. How big the space between 1 and 0 was.

She couldn’t go to his world even if she wanted to. She couldn’t meet him even if she wanted to. The only thing she could do was to wait.

Gon who was equally glad to see her let out a small laugh. “That’s a relief. I was a bit scared that you didn’t want me to come back—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. Tae-Eul reached Gon in a few strides and hugged him.

There were a few things she could do now.

She could touch him. She could embrace him.

With Tae-Eul’s head tightly pressed against his chest, Gon felt his heart skip a beat. Silently, he wrapped his arms around her.

Warmth spreading from one body to another, they relaxed into each other.

Their time spent in the Kingdom was short, and their goodbye felt even more rushed. Their current situation meant they couldn’t send each other texts like any normal couple and Tae-Eul probably worried over him. Feeling sorry for being away for so long, Gon held her a fraction tighter.

As much as he did his best to carry out his work as quickly as he could, Gon wished he could have come sooner.

—

Finally breaking their embrace, Tae-Eul led Gon to the Taekwondo center.

She was the owner’s daughter yet Gon was the one holding the key to the training hall.

Gon had come in earlier in the day, greeted her father and borrowed the house keys. Tae-Eul didn’t know what to make of it. Did he really have to go that far?

She got the answer entering the Dojang.

At first glance, the man standing in the middle of room looked like Eun-Sup. His attire was the one detail that gave him away. This man was not Eun-Sup. It was Yeong.

Yeong faced Tae-Eul and glowered at her, posture stiff. This wasn’t the first time Yeong looked at her with disapproval but this level of animosity was new.

“You brought Jo Yeong here?” Tae-Eul frowned, turning to Gon.

“It was unavoidable. He wouldn’t let me go alone.”

There was several reasons why Gon had wanted to bring Yeong to this place, but one particularly stood out. Yeong had chased after him in the bamboo trail and blocked his path as he was about to cross the gate.

If he was leaving to go meet that girl Luna, then he couldn’t let him go, Yeong had explained.

Luna.

Gon had also learned about her existence in the Kingdom. He had spent hours and hours searching for Tae-Eul and it turned out that her doppelganger did exist in his universe. That time when he saw a glimpse of her at the rowing competition was not a figment of his imagination after all. But her name wasn’t Tae-Eul and she wasn’t a police officer either. She was just a fugitive, chased by both the mob and police forces.

Gon couldn’t blame Yeong for being wary of Tae-Eul. His best friend had dutifully looked for her at his request. He believed that Luna and Tae-Eul were the same person, so it was only normal that he couldn’t let Gon go to her.

This was about to change.

Gon wanted to show Yeong that Luna and Tae-Eul were really two different persons. That one person belonged to the Kingdom and the other was from another universe.

Yeong still seemed frozen in place, disoriented from the journey from Corea to the Republic’s Seoul. Examining his surroundings, his confusion only grew as his eyes lingered on the various frames that adorned the walls.

There were several pictures of Tae-Eul posing with her father. Another frame of a younger Tae-Eul with Shin-Jae. Countless awards and certificates bearing her name.

To any outsider looking at these various pieces of memory, this was a real, separate person. A person that matched the police ID Yeong saw, belonging to a certain police officer named Jeong Tae-Eul.

“What… what’s going on?” Yeong asked, face slightly tilted. “What is this place?”

“I totally understand how you feel. I’m sure we both have a lot of things to worry about, but for now, welcome to the Republic of Korea.” Tae-Eul replied calmly.

So… did it mean he had to call her Sunbae here?

Yeong pulled out his phone and tried to get a signal.

Yeong’s confused state reminded Gon of Tae-Eul’s similar reaction when she first visited the Palace.

“I’ve never seen him act like that. He looks so cute when he’s flustered.” Gon chuckled.

Tae-Eul had to admit this was a new side of Yeong. She never imagined that the man who didn’t flinch at the sight of blood could look so flustered. But she wouldn’t go as far as to describe him as cute.

She guessed it made sense. Tae-Eul lips stretched into a small smile. Gon did consider Yeong as his little brother.

“Your carefree attitude is what’s cute. How can you just bring someone with the same face? What are you going to do if he gets caught?”

“That’s why I borrowed this place. Besides, Yeong isn’t the type to get caught easil—.”

The door suddenly burst open and Eun-Sup came strolling inside the Dojang. His face lit up at seeing Gon.

“The light were on so I was wondering…”

Eun-Sup shrieked, frozen at the sight of Yeong.

Yeong returned his gaze on Eun-Sup. Both staring at each other, fingers pointing towards the other.

“You two haven’t met, right? Why don’t I introduce… Well, I guess we could say you’ve met already. Anyway, this is my guard, the Unbreakable Sword, Jo Yeong. And this is the guard of a police station…” Gon explained, looking slightly perplexed.

Halfway through Gon’s quiet introductions, Eun-Sup collapsed. Tae-Eul rushed over to him, grabbing his collar and patting his cheek repeatedly.

“Hey! Jo Eun-Sup! I can’t believe it! You made him faint! What? Did you say that he wouldn’t get caught? Our Eun-Sup was also raised as a precious only child until his siblings were born. What are you going to do if something happens to him?” Tae-Eul shouted.

Woken up by Tae-Eul frantic gestures, Eun-Sup kept on rambling. “Noona, I literally just saw someone who looked exactly like me… that face, he’s right here. What the hell is this? He looks exactly like me. No. He is me. Who are you?”

“And who are you?” Yeong confronted Eun-Sup.

Tae-Eul could feel a headache coming on. Massaging her temples, she attempted a rational explanation.

“Eun-Sup. Let me explain. So this is like a parallel universe or something. Don’t get too startled and listen to me, alright?”

“I didn’t realize it until now, but I’m pretty handsome.” Eun-Sup cut her off.

Yes, okay. This was Eun-Sup alright.

“You really didn’t know? How could you not know? I’m sure people around you would’ve told you all the time.” Yeong added, keeping a straight face on.

Gon and Tae-Eul looked at each other.

Eun-Sup, who seemed to have regained his wits, shook his shaggy hair. “Wow, so this means everything was true, right? The Kingdom of Corea really exists, and King Arthur really is the King? Wow! Then you’re the King’s bodyguard, right?”

“No. Are you doing military duties right now? Is the military service compulsory here?” Yeong asked, looking at Eun-Sup’s uniform.

“What do you mean? Is it different where you live?”

“Our military system is on a voluntary basis.”

“Really? Then it means you don’t need to go…”

Tae-Eul let out a long sigh at Yeong and Eun-Sup’s back and forth verbal sparring. This conversation could drag on and on. The Taekwondo center wasn’t a safe place to hide Eun-Sup’s double.

They would be safer at Eun-Sup’s place. It was a school holidays so the twins were back at home and Eun-Sup currently lived alone in the apartment.

She ushered the two of them outside and set up a few basic rules in order for them to co-exist in this world. Eun-Sup could go out and live his life during the day. They would switch at sundown and Yeong could go out at night.

—

Leaving Yeong and Eun-Sup to bicker, Tae-Eul brought Gon to their usual bbq chicken place. She didn’t know how long Gon would stay this time around. Regardless, she had been meaning to give him a cellphone so they could reach each other whenever they felt like it.

Tae-Eul saved all the necessary numbers and slid the brand new phone over to Gon.

Her number. Shin-Jae’s, Eun-Sup’s, Nari’s and the Dojang’s landline number.

“Unlike someone, my salary is chicken feed, and I don’t have a mountain full of rare-earth elements. So I bought it with a 12-month installment plan. Don’t break it and take care of it. Don’t forget to answer my calls. I saved all the numbers you will need in this world.”

“It seems like you bought it and waited for me to come back. Why did you save Shin-Jae’s number though?”

Gon felt a surge of happiness at the idea that Tae-Eul bought this phone for him and waited for him to come back to give it to him. However, his light mood rapidly changed when he saw Shin-Jae’s number on the phone’s bright screen.

“They are the five people who will help you regardless of anything in this world. And Shin-Jae is one of the most trustworthy people.”

“Not you?”

“For me, the citizens of this nation come first.”

With the device still in his hand, Gon dialed Tae-Eul’s number.

At the sound of her ringtone, Tae-Eul instinctively grabbed her own phone, wondering who might want to reach her at this time of the day.

Lee Gon.

Gon gestured for her to pick up the call.

“Is it you?”

“Hang up.”

“Don’t hang up. I always wanted to try this.”

“What is this?”

“Just a normal daily life with you. Call you… chat on the phone…”

“…”

“Ask you what you did today… and tell you that I missed you a lot.” Gon went on.

He was saying aloud all the things Tae-Eul had been thinking about in his absence. She could see the waiter approaching their table with their order.

“Me too.” Tae-Eul admitted in one breath.

Gon’s chest tightened, joy rippling through him. He didn’t know his heart could beat so fast.

“We have somewhere to go after we eat.” Tae-Eul announced, grabbing a piece of chicken.

“…?”

“It’s something I’ve been planning for a long time.”

#tkem #the king eternal monarch #lee min ho #kim go eun #tkem novels #Sorry for being MIA #December was crazy work-wise #then Christmas break happened with its own kind of crazyness #Many thanks for your patience!#I gotta admit though #After binge watching Doctors a few weeks ago I developed some kind of Kim Rae Won situation #so I was busy catching up on his filmography #lmao I have 0 chill #anyway happy new year ~ ^_^#may 2021 make up for all the shitstorm that was 2020 including sbs robbing our cast of their well deserved awards #LMH looked so sad walking up the stage alone

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fantastic-bby · 4 years ago

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Nova

Pairing: (F)Reader x Hyunjin

Word count: 3k

Genre: Angst || Fluff || Fallen angel!Hyunjin

Summary: When you’re assigned a human, you never expected to fall as hard as you did. Out of self benefit, you ask your deities to make him an angel when he’s taken before his time. The only problem is that humans who turn into angels are given stricter rules than pure blooded angels.

Warnings: Demons || Mentions of death

Masterlist || Chan - Maive || Minho - Kira || Changbin - Skye || Jisung - Blair || Felix - Lia || Seungmin - Raisha || Jeongin - Avia

“Are you stupid or are you stupid?” You cross your arms over your chest as you glare at Felix. “God, the whole deity council is going to kill you!” You smack the upside of his head which he responds with a scowl. “I told you to be careful around Lia! Now you’ve gone and revealed yourself to her!”

“It’s not just like that! She’s agreeing to become an angel. That means that I can bring her up here when I tell the council.” He’s so hopeful. You let out a sigh as you pinch your nose bridge with your thumb and index finger.

“They don’t just accept anyone anymore. Not after Hyunjin.” The mention of a former guardian makes Felix whip his head to look at you.

“Do you… still talk to him?” He knows it’s a sensitive topic for you; having your lover turned into a fallen is nothing a guardian enjoys, but Felix is genuinely curious.

“Sometimes it feels like just talking to him might get me thrown out as well,” you sigh. He purses his lips into a straight line. “I just wish he had been more careful with what he was doing. He didn’t even mean to lose his human.”

“Guardians can’t completely guarantee a human’s protection, we can only guide them through their lives.” Felix tries his best to reassure you, but the ache in your heart for Hyunjin still remains after all the years that have passed.

“I know that—Hyunjin knew that. He just… he just missed one too many details.” You would’ve cut off ties with Hyunjin by now if you didn’t agree with the council’s decision to kick him out at least a small bit. Every night, you find yourself on Earth, perched on the top of a tower while you watch the moon slowly move through the sky.

“Here again?” The familiar voice makes you turn around to see Hyunjin approaching you with a small smile on his face. Your own lips curl into a smile you can’t hold back when you see your lover sitting beside you, his legs hanging off of the edge of the building.

“I miss seeing you everyday,” you confess as you lean your head against his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you too, my angel.” His arm moves around your waist to pull you closer to his side. Maybe it's a tragic love story—or maybe it’s just not meant to be. Whatever it is, you love Hyunjin too much to just leave him in hell, which is why you’re always in the human world. You just want to see him; even if it’s for a moment. “Has the higher ups caught you yet?”

“Even if they do, I honestly don’t think I’ll do anything about it,” you mutter softly. “I just want to be with you again.”

“Don’t get yourself kicked out for me, (Y/n). I know that Skye did it, but I don’t want you to come down.” Hyunjin gently moves his hands up to your head, guiding you to lay in his lap. “I’ll tell you that comparing the two, hell is not for someone like you. You’re too pure for that place.”

“What about you? You didn’t even mean to end up in there.”

“Yeah well,” he sighs softly as he gently pushes a few strands of hair off of your face, “I can’t change the mistakes I made.” You look into his crimson eyes, your hand raising to cup his face.

“I remember when your eyes were brown,” you softly claim. “I remember how soft and beautiful they were. Now, they look deceiving and mischievous.” Hyunjin lets out a chuckle.

“These eyes are now made to deceive. I can’t be as soft as I used to be or else I’ll get punished by the Lord.” Your bottom lip juts out slightly into a pout.

“My poor angel," you coo. Hyunjin blushes lightly. "You'll always be my angel—no matter what happens."

"I've missed your touch," he hums as he takes your hand from his cheek to his lips. Hyunjin didn't mean to get his wings ripped off. It was just one too many mistakes, and it was too big of a mistake. Hyunjin remembers the day he was told that he was losing his wings. He was hoping that he would be forgiven. “Please, I won’t do it again. I-I promise. Just let me stay, please.” He was on his knees in front of the higher deity who sat before him.

“Three strikes, Hyunjin.” They shook their head. “Your wings will be taken from you and you’ll be sent down to hell to join the fallen.”

“Other than those, I’ve been good!” he reasoned. “P-Please, (Y/n) will be heartbroken.” Hyunjin lowered his head to the ground. “She brought me up here. I promised her I would be by her side forever.”

“You’re of human blood. Your blood isn’t pure. The more mistakes you make, the easier it is for you to turn evil. We can’t afford that.”

“B-But,” he sat upright to object, but the deity stopped him before he could.

“The decision is final, Hyunjin.” Once again, Hyunjin lowered to the ground. He let out a sob as he imagined having to break the news to you. You were the reason he was an angel in the first place.

As every angel does, you were finishing an assignment; the assignment being Hyunjin. He remembers the first time you came to him clearly like it had happened so recently. You showed up while he was waiting for the bus home. Hyunjin didn’t pay you any mind at first, but when he kept seeing you so regularly, he got more and more curious about who you were.

“Hey,” he greeted, making you turn to him. “Did you move here recently? I’ve only seen you taking this stop recently.”

“Yep,” you nod. “I moved halfway through the school year since I had to move so suddenly.” Actually showing your appearance to your humans was always your go-to method. Slithering your way into their lives made it easier for you to do your job since you could keep better track of them.

“Ah, I was wondering why I was seeing you so suddenly. I’m Hyunjin.” Such a simple introduction that started your bizarre friendship with your human. Hyunjin was a wild card. He was always doing the most random things at the strangest hours.

“(Y/n)! Come down to the park!” You sat up in your bed, turning on the light to check on the large clock that stood in the corner of your bedroom.

“Dude, it’s three a.m.?” Your statement only made him even more persistent.

“Don’t question it and just come!” You pulled yourself out of bed, dragging yourself out of your home tiredly. Even though you were an angel, you still valued your sleep a ton. The fact alone was the reason why you were so grumpy as you approached Hyunjin who was sitting at the swings all by himself. Well, that fact and also the fact that you already knew he was in no actual danger.

“Mind letting me know why you woke me up so suddenly?” You glared at him. Hyunjin dismissed your bad mood and just took your wrist in his, dragging you all the way to the lake nearby the park.

“You have to be quiet,” he whispered as he laid stomach down onto the grass. You were too tired to question him and instead just joined him. “There,” Hyunjin pointed, the excitement lacing his voice. You turned to where he was pointing and you gasped when you saw a large deer drinking from the lake.

“Woah,” you breathed out. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise considering the fact that the neighbourhood Hyunjin lived in was right next to quite a thick forest. “It looks so pretty,” you claimed. Hyunjin nodded silently beside you.

“I always come out here in the middle of the night since the deer around this area only seem to come out at night to drink from the lake.” He turned to you, his mind filling with glee at the realisation that he now had someone who could join him in watching the deer.

“That makes sense. There’s no humans around to scare them off,” your words were soft and were mostly just you thinking out loud, but it made him smile. The two of you watched the deer until it hopped off into the forest, disappearing from your line of sight. By then, you were ready to just head home and plop yourself back into your bed, but it seemed as though Hyunjin had other plans. “Hyunjin, if I eat now and go to sleep, my face is gonna get all puffy when I wake up,” you whined as you let the brown haired boy drag you to a nearby convenience store.

“Then just don’t sleep,” he shrugged, “you sleep early anyway. Six hours of sleep is not bad.”

“I sleep early because I want to sleep more,” you groaned. Once again, Hyunjin dismissed your mood and just pulled you into the instant food aisle. You watched as he grabbed two cups of instant noodles before running to the large fridges to pull out two bottles of iced tea, heading to the counter where you just watched lazily.

Once he came back with the noodles, you cooked them with the water from the large water boiler. “Inside or outside?” Hyunjin questioned.

“Inside’s too cold,” you simply stated. He nodded without another word, the both of you making your way outside to where a small plastic table was. You silently ate together. The silence was comfortable; that was the first thing Hyunjin noted about you. You didn’t need a lot of things to be comfortable. You wouldn’t exactly deny it either. Even though you were an angel, you preferred more simple things. You didn’t treat your position as an otherworldly being as such a big thing. You just liked food and sleep.

Hyunjin appreciated that you did. It really didn’t take much for him to fall in love. Six years worth of friendship and he realised he just loved everything about you. You would be lying if you didn’t love him back. He made you feel safe. There was a charm about Hyunjin that was strong enough to make an angel fall in love with him.

“I think I love you,” he confessed when he broke the kiss. You stared at him, your mind battling between your heart until your heart made the decision for you.

“I think I love you, too.” You had to admit that you had never seen Hyunjin happier than when you confessed your love on the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline and the slowly rising sun just adding to the ambiance that was nothing less than romantic.

“I can’t believe it took us six years before we realised it,” Hyunjin chuckled. You chuckled as well, scooching yourself closer to him where you leaned your head onto his bare shoulder.

“I know right,” you muttered. You knew the consequences of dating a human. You just had to hope that the deities wouldn’t figure out—even though you knew very well that they watch over the entire world—and that you could play it out smoothly.

When a few months passed and you still haven’t heard anything from the higher ups, you just assumed that you were in somewhat of a greenlight. The only thing was that Hyunjin was getting more and more prone to injuries. There was a weird energy surrounding your human. Something that didn’t feel like energy from an evil entity, but energy that just didn’t sit right with you.

At one point, he got so hurt that he was taken way before his time. Which was why you made a deal with the council. Well, you honestly did it because you were in love with him. “He’s been good.” The higher deity raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a good angel, (Y/n).You’ve never failed a task and we assume that this is the first time you’ve ever courted a human.” Without much other objections, the deities gave you the responsibility of bringing Hyunjin up to heaven with you.

“W-Where are we?” he questioned nervously.

“I brought you to my real home,” you hummed. With you by his side, Hyunjin slowly started to ease into his new surroundings, his fear slowly switching to curiosity.

“So, you were my guardian angel?” he asked when you had explained everything. You nodded. “And you asked the deities to give me a chance as a guardian too?” You nodded once again. “Does this mean we get to spend the rest of our time together?”

“Exactly why I asked for you to become a guardian. You don’t even have to get another home, you can live with me like how we did before on Earth.” Your suggestion made him smile widely.

“As long as I get to be with you, my angel.” It was funny to you that Hyunjin gave you ‘angel’ as a pet name without even knowing what you truly were. “Well, it was fitting for you then and it’s even more fitting for you now,” he chuckled when you brought it up to him.

You stuck by Hyunjin’s side for the first few of his humans, helping him to understand what he should and shouldn’t do when he’s on the job. Your lover watched how you worked intently, wanting to do it right to be able to stay with you. Humans were given less chances than angels did only because the deities knew that trust towards humans had a chance of being more unstable compared to angels.

They simply lacked the purity that angels were created with.

“You have to be careful with this,” you advised as you watched him grant his human dreams.

“Like that?” he turned to you. You nodded with a smile.

“Exactly like that, my love.” Hyunjin was a fast learner and that you were mildly glad of. He caught onto what he had to do very easily and soon, you didn't even need to stick by his side. Instead, the deities decided that separating the two of you would be fruitless and simply assigned humans in the same area so that the two of you would end up staying in the same home.

"How's Chia?” you asked when Hyunjin stepped into your shared home. When he looks at you with a completely pale face, you realise something must’ve happened.

“S-She—Fallens came—t-t-they killed her,” he stammered out before completely breaking down. Your eyes widened and you quickly moved to his side, pulling him into your embrace and wrapping your wings around him for comfort. “I-I didn’t know what to do,” Hyunjin hiccuped, “I-I-I thought I c-could’ve saved her.” You bit your lip as you thought about it. Chia would be his first strike.

“It’s okay, love,” you hushed softly, “it’ll be okay. It’s just a hiccup in your work. We’ll get you back on track, okay?” You wondered why he didn’t just ask you for help. You didn’t give that wonder much thought—your attention moving to soothe him because you knew that he would have to talk to the deities about this. “We can figure this out, Jinnie.” You held him tightly against you, letting him cry out his feelings. Losing the first human is rough for every angel. That fear that wells up inside of you when you realise just how bad losing a human really is… it’s pulled a few guardians out of their positions.

It took a while before Hyunjin was ready for another assignment. That time, he was less confident in himself and had asked you to watch over him. You agreed, of course. You just didn’t want him to lose his confidence completely and have himself thrown out of heaven.

Over time, he slowly regained his confidence with watching over humans. Some of them lasted longer than others and some only lasted a few years, but Hyunjin was more careful with them. That is, until he banished a fallen angel on sight.

“Hyunjin! You can’t just do that!” you scolded frantically when you saw the fallen angel disappear into black smoke.

“I-I panicked!” He turned to you with wide, scared eyes. That was strike two and you knew the deities were already starting to get wary of Hyunjin. The third strike was him being too careful. He had accidentally revealed himself to his human and let them slip past his fingers into the influence of a fallen angel. It just so happened that your human at the time was halfway across the world from your lover, preventing you from helping him in any form. “P-Please don’t cry,” he whimpered when he saw the tears streaming down your face. “Please, (Y/n),” Hyunjin took a step closer to you, his hands moving to cup your face. “I’m so sorry, my angel.” Your arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him tightly.

“T-They’re being t-too unfair,” you sobbed against his chest.

“It’s the rules,” he swallowed thickly. He was willing himself not to cry in front of you—not when you were already so broken with him having to leave. “Every chance I get, I will try to see you.” Hyunjin’s words only made you hold him tighter. You didn’t want him to leave; not when you brought him up to be with him forever.

“P-Please,” you whimpered, “d-don’t leave me, Hyunjin.”

“I have to go, (Y/n),” he muttered. “If I don’t leave on my own, they’ll banish me and I won’t be able to enter the human world either.” Hyunjin pulled away to look you in the eye. “They can’t stop us from meeting. As long as I still love you and you still love me, that’s all that matters.” He pulled you into his chest once again, peppering the top of your head with soft kisses. “I’m sorry, my angel. I’m sorry I disappointed you,” he apologised once more before he disappeared. You crumbled to the ground without Hyunjin to support you, your dream of having him be a guardian by your side ripped out of your hands.

“I love you, Hyunjin,” you sobbed, bringing your knees to your chest as you allowed yourself to break down in the living room of your shared home.

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callboxkat · 4 years ago

Text

Those Long, Lonely Nights (part 6/6)

Author’s note: This is a retelling of the story These Deep Dark Woods, but from Roman’s perspective. I recommend reading that story first, but this can also stand alone.

Summary: Roman, a knight, insists on accompanying his best friend Logan, a potion maker, when he decides to head into the notoriously dangerous woods bordering their home to find some rare herbs and minerals for his apothecary. They find much more than they bargained for when they encounter Remus, a bloodthirsty giant. Logince. Angst with a happy ending.

Fic Warnings: food mention, blood, injuries, death mention, killing mention, gun mention, mild body horror (it’s Remus), disturbing imagery (it’s Remus), character death, temporary/believed character death, kidnapping, guilt, attempted self sacrifice, talk of giants, vampires and other monsters. Very unsympathetic villain Remus.

Word Count: 2174

Part 1

Writing Masterpost!

...

Early morning daylight filled the room, and Valerie was back, setting up her supplies on the side table. She glanced over as Roman yawned, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“I did ask you to fetch someone if he woke up,” she scolded gently.

Roman realized he was still sitting on Logan’s bed, leaning against the headboard, Logan’s hand held in both of his.

Logan was asleep, his face turned slightly towards Roman.

Roman felt his face heat up. “...it was late,” he justified, watching as Valerie started to check Logan over. “He seemed a little scared, so I just....”

“It’s okay. I did ask you to keep him calm,” Valerie said. She put the back of her hand on Logan’s cheek, then felt his pulse, giving a little nod to herself. She then moved on to check the bandages on Logan’s head. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked as she worked.

Roman smiled. “Much improved, thanks to you.”

“That’s good to hear. You didn’t hurt your ankle too much when you decided to migrate over here, did you?”

Roman huffed indignantly, pouting. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t left his bed at all since he’d been here. And he was keeping his worse-off foot elevated, like she’d told him to. He’d put it up on the bed and everything. “I did not.”

Valerie looked amused. “Okay, I believe you. Would you mind moving back over to your own bed? I need to check on those ribs of yours, and there’s not quite enough space here.”

Roman looked reluctantly at Logan, then sighed, and nodded. He very gently placed Logan’s hand on the blanket and allowed Valerie to help him back to his own bed.

She was about halfway through reapplying the salve on his torso when there was a groan from the neighboring bed. Roman’s head snapped up immediately. Valerie also paused, glancing over.

Logan’s eyes were open. He looked drowsy, still, but rather than the bleary, nervous disorientation of the night before, now his eyes were sharp and focused—if still understandably confused. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then turned his head, looking around.

Roman gasped, then grinned, trying to hide how worried he’d been. “Does my favorite nerd stir? You’re finally back in the land of the living!”

Logan’s eyes found Roman. He frowned and opened his mouth to speak, only to break off into a coughing fit. Valerie quickly set down the salve she’d been applying and fetched a glass of water. Roman watched as she brought it over to him, trying to ignore the acrobatics his heart was performing.

“Careful now,” she said. “Have some water.”

She helped Logan to drink. Logan seemed to be trying to help hold the glass, but it was obvious that he was still feeling weak and exhausted.

“Better?” Valerie asked once he had drunk a fair amount.

Logan nodded slightly, closing his eyes as he did so. “Thank you,” he said, his voice still rough.

“No problem at all,” the doctor assured him. She glanced him up and down, assessing. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Logan.”

“And where are we, Logan?”

He opened his eyes again and glanced around. “It appears to be a hospital, although… I’m afraid I can’t be more specific.”

“Yes, you are in the hospital,” Valerie confirmed. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Logan swallowed, his gaze growing a bit glassy. “The… the giant,” he whispered.

“Yes, Sir Roman here has told me about that. I’m sorry about what happened, but you’re safe now.” She glanced towards Roman, who looked at her meaningfully. Logan seemed pretty lucid—surely he was well enough to talk?

Valerie seemed to debate for a fraction of a second, but thankfully, she kept her promise. “Alright, everything looks good. I’ll… leave you two alone for a moment, then, unless you need something?”

“No, thank you, doctor,” Logan said. “I will be fine for a moment.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

“Wait,” Logan said suddenly, reaching out as if to stop her. “My apothecary, my clients….”

“There are other apothecaries,” Roman said soothingly. “They’ll be fine until you’re better.”

“Yes, yes, but… some of my clients, they have told me they have difficulty being served elsewhere.”

Valerie hesitated. “Which clients?”

“Vampires,” Logan said.

Oh, Roman thought. He suddenly felt a bit guilty, thinking about his and Logan’s exchange only a few days before. He should have guessed that vampires might have difficulty finding what they needed. And of course Logan would care about that, even while lying in a hospital bed himself.

“Valerie, if you would not mind… I know it is a lot to ask… but there are only seven of them.”

Valerie tapped her fingernails on her clipboard. “I can put a sign on the door,” she said. “I can tell them to come to me. I’ll take care of it.”

Logan relaxed. “Thank you.”

Valerie nodded, gathered up her things, then left the room. Roman waited until she was sure he’d heard her footsteps leave the neighboring room, then carefully got up from his own bed and limped back over to Logan’s. Logan reached towards him, and Roman helped him to sit up, pushing pillows behind him and then letting him lean back against them. Roman sat down on the edge of the bed again, which Logan didn’t seem to mind, if he even noticed.

Logan’s eyes had locked onto his injured leg, splinted and heavily bandaged. A part of Roman wished he had adjusted the covers to hide it, but he supposed it wasn’t as if Logan didn’t know what had happened.

“They say you’ll probably need a cane,” Roman admitted. As if it would somehow make it better, he added, “We’ll get you a nice, stylish one. People will think it’s just part of your whole apothecary vibe.” Logan liked to look professional—surely that would be a plus. Right?

Mercifully, Logan changed the subject. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple of days. Ever since the giant….” Roman shuddered at the memory. “Anyway. You’ve got a concussion—twinsies—and you lost a lot of blood. But Valerie says that you shouldn’t have any kind of permanent damage, other than the limp. And for now, you get to take some killer pain meds. I’m almost jealous.”

Logan took a moment to mull that over. He looked Roman over, his gaze lingering on his bruised face, his cracked ribs, and his sprained ankle. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“What? Why are you sorry?”

“You’re hurt because of me,” Logan pointed out. “It was my plan to go into the woods. My plan to fetch those supplies, even knowing the risks—”

“You didn’t know about that giant.”

Logan did not seem reassured. “I knew about the monsters in the woods. I knew that the sentries and the walls and the enchantments were there for a reason. I knew that it was dangerous.”

“Logan.”

“You could have died, because of me—”

Roman held up a hand to stop him. “But I didn’t. I am very much still alive.”

Logan sighed. He picked at the blanket lying across his lap. “And the giant, then, it’s…?”

“Dead,” Roman assured. “As dead as we would have been if you didn’t distract him so we could get out of there. As dead as you would have been if I hadn’t—gods, Logan, why did you want me to leave you behind? Did you really think I’d ever do something like that to you? You’re my—” he cut himself off, the tips of his ears reddening. He wasn’t even sure what he’d been about to say, but… he knew it wasn’t something he could just… say.

Logan watched him for a moment. Then, cautiously, he spoke. “Roman, you asked the doctor for a moment alone with me. May I ask why?”

Roman fell silent, before looking back up at Logan; and he met those wide, earnest, deep blue eyes. His heart was beating very fast. He swallowed.

No more wasted time.

“Because… we need to talk.”

For a long moment, Logan simply stared at him. Roman couldn’t feel his fingers.

Then, the apothecarist looked down, and considered. “Perhaps…” Logan said slowly, “Perhaps we do.”

Okay, maybe Roman was reading into this too much, but that… that sounded like Logan might feel the same way. Was he reading into this too much?

…Roman might faint.

Logan looked a little concerned, now. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine!” Roman quickly assured him, his voice possibly a little higher than normal. He wished there was an inconspicuous way he could fan himself, but there was not.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep! Mm-hm!”

“Okay.” Logan waited. Roman might have imagined it, but he may have also looked a bit nervous.

Finally, Roman determined that he was in fact not going to faint like some kind of romantic disaster—at least, not yet. He took a few deep breaths, to steady himself. He cleared his throat. Still, his voice shook when he began to speak—although it grew firmer as he continued. “So… so, Logan, there’s something that I’ve really wanted to tell you for a… a very long time. And… to be honest, I never really intended to. I suppose I was afraid. But after everything that’s happened, everything we went through, thinking that you had… that I might have lost you… I just need you to know. I hope that’s okay.”

Logan blinked.

He knew that the words were not coming across as coherently or poetically as he had imagined, over and over through the years, but the words were coming. And now he just had to say it. Roman took a shaky breath, and then let out a little helpless laugh. “Logan, I’ve been in love with you for years.”

“Oh,” Logan said softly.

Roman swallowed. “Yeah.”

“If I might ask… how long have you felt this way?”

“…Since I was still in training. To be a knight.”

He could feel Logan doing the math on that. Knew that he knew that that was practically when they had very first met. The apothecarist was silent for a long moment.

“I remember…” Roman said, wanting to fill the silence, “one of the other recruits had cut me during a practice fight, and they had me come to you for a poultice. To—to make sure it didn’t get infected. You’d barely finished your apprenticeship, but everyone said you were the best.”

“You were very clumsy at the start,” Logan remembered. “You kept getting injured, and needing to return. You were very lucky only to receive trivial wounds.”

Roman bit his lip. Logan looked at him funny.

“…I’ve been practicing with a sword pretty much since I could walk,” Roman confessed.

Logan stared at him. “So….”

“I wanted to see you. You were just… I wanted to keep seeing you, but you were always so professional back then, turning me down whenever I asked if you wanted to hang out away from the apothecary.”

“I see.”

Roman knew he was bright red. “So, I, uh, kept having little mishaps. Or just kind of wandering over there. And then… eventually, I guess I wore you down, and you agreed to go to the library with me.”

“I needed a tome on the applications of helenium,” Logan recalled quietly. “I went with you because I was already going there.”

“I know,” Roman said simply. Then he gave Logan a weak smile. “And it worked, didn’t it? We were friends after that.”

Acquaintances, he recalled Logan saying. Close acquaintances, he had eventually allowed. But it was true. They were friends. Logan did not correct him, he noticed.

“I never wanted to pressure you,” Roman continued. “I never wanted to make you do anything that you didn’t want to do, and I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. But… it’s true. I’ve—I’ve loved you for a long time.” He looked down at the blankets, finding it difficult to meet Logan’s eyes. “So—so, I just wanted to know… if you might feel the same way. It’s okay if you don’t! And It’s okay if you don’t—if you don’t love me; but if you’d like to, I don’t know, try this out… I would just really like to give it a chance.”

Logan didn’t answer right away. Roman’s heart was pounding. Long seconds ticked by, each one dragging on like hours.

“I think,” the apothecarist said finally, hesitantly reaching out and taking Roman’s hand, “That I would like that as well.”

Roman’s mouth fell open, and he jerked back, staring at Logan. Logan just looked at him, real and alive. Tears welled in Roman’s eyes, and he took Logan’s hand in both of his own. He blinked the tears away so he could search Logan’s face. A few rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t care. “Really?” he croaked, scarcely believing he might have heard correctly.

Logan nodded, and then he smiled. “Really.”

Now with a post-story illustration

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aspenflower17 · 4 years ago

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Finding You (Part Fifteen of ??)

Goodness gracious, I’m back, and excited to be here. I just had the weirdest two weeks, so I apologize about not updating last week. Luckily, I just stayed home today and was able to write most of this chapter. Here is a link for anyone who’s new and wants to start over at the beginning: Part One.

A couple notes: I totally forgot I wanted to add a dream sequence to part fourteen, so I added it first thing in this update. It is a rewrite of part of Satan’s “The Search of Self” Devilgram so there might be some spoilers. I also missed you all so much! Honestly, I’ve been feeling kinda down lately and haven’t even had much motivation to play Obey Me (or do much of anything), so being able to hang out on Tumblr today and see all the posts has helped me get some of my inspiration back! I also bought a Chromebook and I'm still getting used to it. If the formatting goes weird, please let me know so I can fix it.

Tags for the beauties: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb @mammonismyfirstman

Word Count: 3293

Warnings: Possible spoilers for the first season (though I think I’ve had some before so...), spoilers for Satan’s “The Search for Self” Devilgram story (it’s not the full story and I added a lot)

Mc followed Satan to a fairly large building. Satan, still so weird to say, had asked her if she wanted to go around the Devildom with him. The letters above the door were illegible, seeing as how the Devildom had their own language and alphabet, but she instantly knew where they were when they walked in, “You took me to an art gallery?!”

“Oh, seems like I made a good choice,” Satan looked a tad shocked, but then smiled, “I like to come here to get away from stuff and clear my head.”

“So, are these like human art galleries?” Mc asked.

“I think so? Naturally, they have older, historically significant paintings, but they also exhibit pieces created by young, up-and-coming artists. And they’re always holding interesting events. It’s a lot of fun… Are you interested in art, Mc?”

“Yeah, I am,” Mc answered.

“Ah, is that so? I’ve got a feeling you and I might get along, then. I really love art.”

Mc felt her heart thill at his words. She’d been interested in the blonde fourth-born the second she’d seen him, and her interest seemed to be well founded.

Satan continued on about why he loved art, and though there was brand new art for her to look at, all she could do was hang watch Satan and hang onto his every word. He wasn’t saying anything she herself didn’t think, but just being here with him was giving her butterflies.

“... If you’re nervous about coming here alone, then say the word, and I’ll join you anytime.”

“Ah, that’s so nice of you. Now that I know this place exists, I’m definitely going to need to visit often.”

“You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?” he was watching her, eyebrow quirked, but with a soft smile.

“Of course! Not only do I have a whole new history to learn about, but there’s even new art!”

Satan chuckled, “Well, I’m glad you’re actually interested in art. It really is important not to focus only on your outward appearance like Asmo, because the person you are on the inside has a way of showing through on the outside as well.”

“I agree. Too many people’s beauty is only skin deep.”

“Exactly. Incidentally, it looks like they’re having a contemporary art exhibit here today. Shall we go check it out?”

“Definitely. I hope demon modern art is better than, “Four Blue Squares on Canvas”.”

“Wait… Really?”

“Yup. It’s a real art piece I saw in my University’s art museum.”

“So, was it really…”

“Just four blue squares on a white canvas, all equidistant from each other.”

Satan blinked a couple times, “Well, I hope ours is better too.”

They entered an exhibit space. Mc found herself a little disappointed, as she saw some of the same stange, abstract, postmodern art she would’ve seen at a human art gallery. Satan noticed the change and hurried to explain, “This is the human art wing. Many of the “lost” art pieces you’ve heard about can be found in collections here in the Devildom or in some of our galleries. This gallery is curated by Lord Diavolo, as advised by Barabatos, Lucifer and myself. Right now I believe this collection was put together by Lucifer.”

“Ah. That makes sense,” Mc stated, lips pursed as she looked around, making Satan laugh.

The duo continued through the gallery, Mc stopping every-so-often to examine a piece that caught her eye. Satan knew the artist’s name and the medium of almost every piece, though there were a few that were new to him too.

“Check out this work here. The use of color is so novel, so original. It’s very eye catching.”

Mc leaned down to read the museum label, “You know, that reddish color really reminds me of… Oh…”

“Human blood? Yeah, I thought as much. Though the smell had been dampened, probably diluted with water, it’s still unmistakable,” Satan answered absentmindedly. Finally seeing Mc’s discomfort, he quickly tried to backpedal, “I’m sorry. I forgot human noses aren’t as... sensitive as demons. This artist makes pieces that stimulate multiple senses. She’s an acquaintance of mine. This piece in particular incorporates the blood of… Seven distinct creatures, demons included.”

“Oh… Which one is the demon blood?”

“The black. If I’m not mistaken, she used her own blood for this piece,” Mc nodded, the art more macabre than she’d originally thought, “Well, there’s a lot more to see than just this. Let’s see, what’s over here in this space?” They walked through an archway into a room that held a huge installation. A lot of strange items filled the room, some on pedestals, or the ground, while others hung from near translucent strings from the ceiling. The lighting in the room was generally low, specific spotlights or illumination obviously very strategically placed. A low glow on the floor marked a pathway that allowed the viewer to wander around the room.

“Wow! Now this is very interesting,” Satan breathed, eyes glittering, “See? Check it out. At first glance it looks like a bunch of random stuff scattered all over the place, doesn’t it? But actually, every piece of rope, string and crumpled paper has been arranged very meticulously. It actually depicts a war between a dragon and an army of angels. If you want proof, look at it from the side. It looks as if the dragon is over powering the army. Buuuut,” Satan continued excitedly rushing over to the other side of the room, “When you look from this other angel here, it seems the angels have the upper hand.”

“Interesting, because, from where I’m standing, I can see Earth.”

“Wait, really?” Satan moved to where Mc was and bent down so he could view it from her height, “Would you look at that. I don’t think I ever would’ve seen that. How interesting… Very nice find,” he complimented, his smile, words and proximity making Mc’s cheeks heat up.

They spent some more time in the room, though they didn’t find any other secrets. They both vowed to come back however to search some more. They then spent more time in the gallery before Satan suggested they head out to get some refreshments at a new cafe in the Devildom.

“Thank you for that Satan,” Mc grinned, “That was some much needed mental refreshment.”

“No, thank you Mc. It can be difficult to get any of my brothers to spend time with me in a manner that I enjoy, and even harder still for them not to annoy me in the process, so I usually end up going around on my own. It was invigorating having someone with me who also appreciates art,” He grinned at her again, making her heart flutter. She could definitely get used to spending time with the Avatar of Wrath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mc blinked awake. That was the second dream she’d had that seemed more than just a dream. She could still remember the first in clear detail, though her dreams usually started fading once she woke up. The only other time she’d experienced something like this was her memory of being a Wanderer. But… This couldn’t possibly be like that. That was a memory, and these were just the result of finally being able to talk to and spend time with the demon she’d admired for so long… Right? She shook her head, the large questions the dreams brought up already giving her a headache. She grabbed her DDD blinking at the light it gave off. After her eyes adjusted she saw a new message alert. Opening it she smiled. Seems like he'd finally opened up her letter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dude, just read it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Belphie sighed and got up, grabbing the letter off of the kitchen counter.

“What are you doing?” Satan asked.

“Well, if you’re not going to open it, I will. I can’t believe you didn’t read and respond to it that night. Honestly, you’re one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom and you can’t even-” he was cut off by Satan grabbing the letter from him, the seal already halfway broken.

“I will open it myself, thank you.”

“Then do it,” Belphie said, unaffected by Satan’s anger.

Satan narrowed his eyes, and turned back to the letter in his hands. Logically, he understood why he was nervous, and usually knowing the why behind a feeling would help him get it under control, but that had never worked with any feelings toward Mc. He had hoped this time around would be different, and he was almost more nervous than before. There seemed to be so much more riding on her returned affection than before. Cautiously, he broke the rest of the seal on the envelope, and pulled the letter out/

Dear Satan,

I would love to get coffee with you sometime! If I can be even half as engaging as last time, I’ll consider it a job well done. To help us plan that and talk more easily in the future, I included my number ;) Once you text me, I have a secret to share with you.

Satan blinked a couple times. He turned the letter over to see if she’d written anything on the back. No such luck. Was that really all she’d written?

“Forever the tease I see.”

“... Did you just read that over my shoulder?”

“Well, when you delay as much as you did, and then have that kind of reaction, who wouldn’t? Anyway, you should text her.”

“I… Yes, you’re right. I definitely should,” Satan said grabbing his DDD. He opened the messaging app, typed in her number and… just sat there.

“You good?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah. I’m just not sure how to start the-”

He was cut off by Belphie grabbing his DDD, typing something, and then tossing it back to him, “There you go. I’m going to go sleep now. It’s way past my bedtime.”

“Wait, what did you even-”

“Night,” Belphie called from the doorway before walking out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan was reading when his DDD meowed that he had a message. He almost threw the book he was reading into the air as he lunged for his DDD which was on the table next to him. He didn’t even have time to be embarrassed at his over-the-top-reaction.

Satan: A secret?

Mc: Yes :D

My name is not Jane Doe, though

I’m sure you’ve already

surmised that much

Satan: I thought as much, though it really isan ingenious alias.

Mc: Thank you! I thought so too

Satan: So… Do I get to know what you’re

real name is?

Mc: Hmmm… What if I want to go get

that coffee with you before

I divulge that information?

Satan: We’ll just have to go get that coffee then.

Mc:

When?

Satan: Whenever you’d like. I am free today.

Only if you want though.

Mc: Okay! Shall we say… 16:00?

Satan: As long as there’s no last minute RAD Student Council meetings called, that should be perfect

Mc: Well, if there is, I’ll just have to come

tell everyone you already made plans.

I’ve been meaning to visit RAD anyway.

Satan:

Oh how I’d love to see Lucifer’s reaction

to that.

Mc:

Satan: Wait… Shouldn’t you be asleep right now?

It’s rather late.

Mc: I was asleep, but…

Satan: Bad dream?

Mc: No actually. Quite the opposite.

I just can’t stop thinking now.

Satan: Ah. I understand that.

Anything I can do to help?

Mc: Would you talk to me a bit longer? Maybe tell me about thelatest book you’ve been reading?

Satan: Of course.

Though he wished Mc would talk to him about what was bothering her, he figured this was probably the better option. They hadn’t met many times, and prying might upset her. So, he simply started telling her the basic plot of the new novel he’d picked up. Eventually, she stopped responding, and the messages stopped being shown as read. Satan smiled at that, texted her good night, and snuggled down into bed himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry!” Mc’s voice brought Satan out of the book of poetry he’d been reading, “Not only did I fall asleep while texting you last night, but then I was late today and I set the meetup time? Ugh, I feel so bad and I’m so sorry!”

“You’re alright,” Satan smiled, not wanting to acknowledge how much anxiety had been eased up by her appearing.

“I woke up late, and I dropped my DDD bad enough that we have to get a new one all together, and then Michael was asking me about native Devildom fabrics and if he should get a new outfit made in one… It’s just been a day so far.”

“Like, I said, it’s all okay. I’m sure you would’ve messaged me if you could.”

“I would’ve. I still feel bad… But thank you for being okay with it,” the look of anxiety to joy that she gave him made every second he’d spent waiting worth it.

“O-Of course,” he got out.

“So, what were you reading?”

“A collection of Arabic love poems.”

“Ah, “... When I love, / I become liquid light,” and “... If the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent,” Mc sighed, resting her chin on her hand. Then, as if remembering her current company and current residence, she shot up, “Sorry! I just really love that line.”

Satan laughed, and then said a quote of his own, “My lips and fingers were pens on her flesh. / I memorized her in every alphabet and memorized my memories until they multiplied…”

“I look at you and I dream of snow, I look at you and I await autumn…”

“My temptations in your eyes, And the cities of your grief,” Satan quoted just then realizing they were both leaning in towards each other. He leaned back a bit abruptly and cleared his throat, “Anyway, I really enjoy Adonis’ work.”

“Me too,” Mc answered, leaning back as well. Fortunately, a waiter came up to them to take their order, helping resolve the awkward air his sudden retreat had created. He tried to collect his thoughts as she ordered. He could only think of one thing to talk about though.

“So… Your name is not Jane Doe.”

“Nope.”

“So... What is it?” Didn’t they have this conversation last night?

Mc looked disappointed for a second, but then she was back to normal, “It’s Mc.”

“Really? That’s a lovely name.”

She looked up, eyes measuring him, “You think so?”

“Of course! It suits you really well,” Satan said.

“Well, there’s actually an interesting story behind that. Usually when an angel becomes an angel, they receive a new name. Back in the past, they used to allow them the choice between their new name and their old one. This resulted in too many angels remembering their human life, so they stopped allowing it. I’m the first angel in quite some time to keep the same name as I had in life.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Apparently Sim and Luke were insistent on it. Luke didn’t have a ton of clout upstairs at the time, but Sim does. I promised I wouldn’t question them too much about my human life.”

“They were huh? That’s interesting…”

“Why?”

“Oh, uhhh… Just general curiosity. I’ve been trying to pin down what kind of person Simeon is since the first exchange program,” Satan scrambled, actually managing to sound convincing.

Mc just hesitated and then nodded, not keeping eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous that I’ll make a fool of myself and ruin this time like I have the other times we’ve talked,” Satan confessed in Latin, his brain still on the last language he had been reading. Saying the things that had been bothering him started when he became more comfortable around Mc the first time around. He found saying the things on his mind out loud usually released much of his nervous energy, helped him understand what and how he was feeling without doing things to make Mc uncomfortable, even if she hadn’t understood most of what he’d said. It had become something they had shared, causing her to work hard to learn other languages so she could catch the little embarrassing things he said.

Mc gave him a look before replying, “Well, you didn’t mess up last time.”

“Well, I-” Satan cut off when his brain caught up to his mouth. She had just responded. In perfect Latin. His brain flipped back to their discussion on Arabic poetry and he realized she had been quoting that in Arabic too, “I hadn’t realized… Of course you speak other languages.”

“I have to read it in its original tongue. Translations generally don’t do the original justice,” Satan was still trying to think of an appropriate response when Mc spoke again, “Question though: Why did you say that in Arabic?”

“I… I fell into that habit awhile ago.”

“I thought a lot of demons knew different languages.”

“Well, I don’t do this around other demons. I don’t care what most of them think of me…” Satan cut off as the waiter came back with their drinks.

Mc sat in thought for a second before realization dawned on her, “Oh, was it because of…” her face fell before she could continue her thought.

“Hmmm? Did you say something?”

“No, just a stray thought that slipped out.”

“Hmmm… Well, do you want to tell me more about yourself?”

“Only if you tell me more about yourself.”

“Sounds fair to me. We can trade off asking questions.”

“Okay,” Mc seemed very excited by the prospect, and Satan found it infectious. The questions were a bit stilted at first, but they slowly fell into a comfortable space. Though the answers Mc gave, it seemed she was the same person essentially, but a lot more educated, even more opinionated, and with a different upbringing. He found the fact her personality had remained intact very interesting as well as relieving. He found the fact she was now an angel not as terrible as he thought it’d be. Sure, she spoke about saving souls and bringing people to the light, but with what she’d done for him and his brothers, it seemed a perfect fit. He’d always known she was a really good person. At times it had almost made him try to give up on their relationship, not wanting to corrupt her, but also feeling it in his very nature too. Now however, he didn’t necessarily feel that for her. She was an angel and it took a lot to corrupt an angel. He didn’t feel any animosity towards her and found her to be a lot like Simeon in her regard to demons. He found himself thanking Simeon for keeping her intact. If they couldn’t give her back to me, this is probably the next best thing.

They were both surprised when Mc’s DDD rang, a call from Luke asking if she’d be back in time for dinner. While she was on the phone, Satan received a similar call from an annoyed Beel telling him it was time to come home. Lucifer wouldn’t let him eat until he’d gotten home. They both got off the phone at the same time.

“I… actually have to go. I hadn’t realized how late it’s gotten.”

“I didn’t either. I have to go as well. There’s a hungry Avatar of Gluttony at home and a stupid Avatar of Pride that won’t let him eat until I get back.”

“Well, I really had a good time tonight. We should do this again sometime.”

“I agree,” Satan smiled, “Today was amazing.”

Mc smiled and blushed a bit, “I’ll text you later then?”

“Definitely. Bye!”

Mc waved cutely and then started running off in the direction of the castle. Satan watched her until she was out of sight, smiling softly the whole time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, yeah. Arabic love poems make me live. I apologize if the translations are weird. I literally found them on a twitter post someone had posted on Tumblr. Here’s the link: https://twitter.com/rosewatwr/status/1292487129793208320?lang=en

Can we also take a moment to talk about how absurd it is that Satan, of all people, was having trouble eating properly with a knife and fork?! Are you kidding me?

Part Sixteen

#obey me #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me! swd #obey me belphie #aspenflower17 #finding you #obey me fluff #obey me angst #obey me mc #obey me satan/mc #obey me satan x mc #obey me long fic #obey me swd #can you guys believe it's part 15?!#also #there was a part I was going to add on that was pretty angsty and Read My Heart came on shuffle when I was writing it

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imaginejamesandsirius · 4 years ago

Note

I love your writing and get super happy when I get a notification about this series. My prompt would be: Sirius tries to get Regulus to leave the death eaters and gets roped into trying to destroy the horcrux with him. Sirius drinks the potion instead and this whole mess somehow ends with James and Sirius getting together. Would love some angst!!!

((A/N: Warning for mentions of suicide))

"You sure about this?" Regulus asked nervously.

Sirius gave him a flat look. "It's a bit late to change your mind now," he said, gesturing to the cave around them. Crossing the water hadn't been easy since the boat was designed to only carry one, and now, standing in front of the basin with the necklace visible on the bottom was kind of the worst time to decide that he didn't want to do this anymore. Their goal was in sight; even if Regulus decided to leave, it would mean that Sirius had to try this on his own. He would prefer not to try that, but he couldn't, in good conscience, walk away.

"Not that. I just meant- you're better at thinking on your feet. Maybe I should be the one to drink it."

Sirius shook his head. "No way. You know more about Voldemort and what's going on with the Death Eaters than I do. If the potion is designed to kill the drinker, we'd still need you alive and well."

"You're not going to die from drinking it."

"You know that for sure?" Sirius asked, tying back his hair. He had no idea how this was going to go, and he didn't want his hair in his face for it.

"Are you suicidal and I'm just now learning about it?" Regulus asked, looking alarmed.

"For fuck's sake, Regulus. Take a deep breath, and calm down."

"I can't believe you are telling someone to calm down, and if there were ever a moment to panic, I should think you'd agree that now is a fitting time."

"Panicking is going to make it hard for you to think. Just remember: as soon as you can, grab the necklace and get out."

"I'm not leaving you behind."

"I'll be fine. I'm not planning on dying in a cave in the middle of nowhere," he said with a smirk.

Regulus wasn't the least bit comforted by that. He knew Sirius was lying-- he wouldn't be fine.

Sirius took a deep breath and picked up the cup sat on the side of the basin. "Here goes nothing," he muttered.

Regulus felt like he was in some state of shock. His body was moving automatically, but it's like his brain was frozen in place. He'd seen Sirius have all sorts of emotional outbursts-- from angry and screaming at their parents to silent and shaking. This was a first for seeing him cry so hard he couldn't breathe. Sirius had been fine drinking the liquid at first, but the effects were cumulative. He got a little choked up after a few cups, and by the end, Regulus had been helping him drink it. He hadn't wanted to, but Sirius had figured out about halfway through that he wouldn't be able to finish all on his own.

It had been a steady spiral downwards for Sirius, but that didn't make seeing the end result any easier. He was a wreck, and it wasn't getting any better. Regulus had been sure that it wouldn't kill him at first, but after seeing him vomit because of how hard he was crying, he started to doubt it. He needed to get Sirius help, and he needed to do it fast. He couldn't just walk into St. Mungo's after betraying the Dark Lord with his brother in tow and expect for nothing bad to happen.

That left him with one option-- or at least one option that he could currently think of.

Personally, he didn't trust Potter. He didn't know him, and he didn't care to. But he needed help-- both with the necklace and with Sirius-- and there was no one better than Potter for that.

Sirius was heavy. Regulus hadn't thought about it before, but Sirius was taller than him and almost twice as big around. Regulus had never felt like a bloody stick before, but he was wearing himself out trying to drag him around. It was something of a miracle that he hadn't fallen over, to be honest. He landed with a grimace on Potter's front stoop, then kicked the door-- he couldn't take an arm away from Sirius for long enough to knock unless he wanted to drop him. He waited a couple seconds, then kicked the door again. "Come on, come on, come on," he chanted, hoping desperately that Potter was home; if he wasn't, they were buggered. He kicked the door again, sending jolts up his leg.

"What the hell are you-" James said, yanking the door open. His eyes darted from Regulus's face to Sirius's slumped form. "The fuck happened?" he asked, hurrying forward to take Sirius's weight.

Regulus's arms felt like jelly. Numbly, he followed him into the house and closed the door behind himself.

"Oi, I asked you a question. What happened?"

"There was- I needed help," he said, voice small.

"With what?" James asked, maneuvering Sirius onto the couch.

Regulus didn't want to talk about it, but he knew that he had to answer a few questions before Potter would relax.

Sirius felt like utter shite when he woke up. The nightmares-- or whatever they were called-- called by the potion had been... vivid. Overly realistic like he was reliving every single moment of the worst day of his life.

He'd realised, one day back in Hogwarts, that James wasn't going to ever be interested in him. It had him hard. James had gone on a date, and then he'd been so excited about it that he'd started to tell Sirius every little detail-- just like they did with everything else. Sirius had snapped at him halfway through and told him that he didn't want to hear about that shite; James hadn't understood why he was getting upset and got mad in return. There had been a decent amount of insults thrown back and forth, and Sirius had stormed out. He'd spent half of the night away, and he'd seriously considered never going back. He'd been hurt and angry and so depressed that he felt like he couldn't even pretend to be okay. In his opinion, he'd had worse days, but that was the only one that had been horrible where James was concerned. Everything else, he'd had James around to comfort him afterwards. For that, he'd been all alone. He couldn't exactly go running off to James when James was the problem.

Sirius wasn't suicidal. But he had been that night. Looking back on it, it felt stupid, but reliving it had reminded him of why he'd been thinking about it. It hadn't been stupid that night.

It meant that when he woke up, not only did he have a tender stomach from vomiting and a headache from crying, but he also felt... fragile. He wondered where Regulus had brought him, because he knew as soon as he opened his eyes that he wasn't in hospital.

"Hey," James said softly, off to the side.

Sirius rolled his head to the side to look at him.

He gave a small smile, looking worried. "How do you feel?"

"Been better," Sirius said, swallowing. "Is Regulus okay?"

"He's fine. He's asleep in a guest room."

Sirius nodded, eyes closing again. He felt James brush some hair away from his forehead and press a kiss to the skin there.

"I could've been there if you told me about it," James said, softly reproaching.

"Regulus didn't know who to trust," Sirius mumbled. Sleep was tugging at him again, and he knew they'd have time to talk about it later. For now, it was enough for him to be reminded that James didn't hate him.

The next time he woke up, he knew it was for several hours. The trouble was that he'd rather go back to sleep. He didn't see anyone as he got off the couch and walked to the kitchen for some water. He didn't feel firm enough to stay standing, so he sat at the table to sip gingerly at his drink. He'd need to brush his teeth soon, because this wasn't sustainable.

He got halfway through his glass before James walked into the room. "Feeling any better?" James asked.

"A bit," Sirius said. He winced at how rough his voice sounded. His throat didn't hurt, and he didn't really remember much about last night. Or whenever it was that he'd gone to the cave with Regulus. After losing time first with the potion then with sleeping so much, he didn't know how long it had been. "How long was I sleeping?"

"Couple days," James said with a shrug. "Lily came by to check up on you."

Lily was training to be a medi-witch, so it made sense that she would've been by. What didn't make sense was that Regulus hadn't protested; he wasn't a blood supremacist anymore, but he'd made it clear that he wouldn't be comfortable around Sirius's mates. He hadn't exactly been lucid for it, but he assumed that the only reason he'd gone to James was because he hadn't known what to do with Sirius otherwise. And, given the choice between Sirius possibly dying and talking to someone he'd rather avoid, Regulus would always choose to talk to someone he'd rather avoid.

"Is Regulus still here?" Sirius asked.

"Not right now. He's with Dumbledore, filling him in on what he knows about Voldemort. I told them that they could stay here, but Dumbledore insisted. I figured you wouldn't mind since there's nowhere safer than with Dumbledore. And er, I guess safe is where you want your brother? You're talking again? Or still?"

"Again," Sirius said. "I wouldn't have been able to keep something like that from you even if I wanted to. Did he tell you what me being sick was about?"

"Yeah. Pretty sure he didn't want to, but I was sort of freaking out." He admitted it easily, utterly unashamed of it. He still looked worried, even though Sirius was okay now. "You should've told me what you were doing before you left."

"You were on a date," Sirius said. It was a weak excuse, and he knew it. There was no easy way for him to explain that any time James said he had a date, Sirius left him the fuck alone. He never wanted to do anything that could make James think he was jealous. It had been stupid and he knew it, but he'd figured that James couldn't get too mad at him for not telling him if he got injured-- and if he didn't get hurt at all, then he would've been able to tell James that there had been no reason to worry.

"That's not the point. You should always tell me when you're going to do something stupidly dangerous so that I can be available if you need help. What would you have done if I wasn't home?"

The thing was, Sirius knew when James was deflecting. So instead of answering his question, he said, "You were on a date, weren't you?"

Guilt flashed across his face.

"What, you lie to me now? About dates?" Sirius had thought he did a pretty good job of hiding his crush, but if James was lying to him about going on dates, clearly he hadn't hidden shite. "What the hell?"

James swallowed, averting his eyes for a moment to peer at the floor. He toed a piece of dirt. "I didn't want you to worry about me."

"What the buggering hell were you doing that I would've worried about?" If James said that he was going into Knockturn Alley all by himself in the middle of the night, Sirius was going to kill him.

"Nothing," he said, taking a seat at the table.

Sirius glared at him suspiciously.

"Nothing! I swear. I just sit at home when I tell you I have a date."

"Why the hell would you do that? If you don't want me to visit, you can just say so."

"No- fucking hell, no that's not what it is."

"Then what is it?"

James looked at him for a long moment. There was something haltingly hopeful in his eyes, but it was clear that he was trying to tamp down on it. "You really don't know?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Am I supposed to know why you lie to me just to sit at home all by yourself?"

"I didn't want you to figure out that I'm in love with you. I knew it would make things weird. Hell, the only reason I'm fessing up to it now is because Regulus figured it out, and I didn't want him to drop it on you out of nowhere. He thought we were together, you know," James said. "You kept saying my name when you were hallucinating, so he asked me. I guess I didn't answer in a way that wasn't suspicious. He'd make a great interrogator," he added thoughtfully. "He stared at me, and it felt like everything came spilling out."

Sirius blinked. James had said that he loved him like it wasn't even a revelation. "You love me?" he asked hoarsely.

"Well yeah," James said, pairing the statement with a soft, small smile. The sort of smile he did when he looked at Sirius like he was the most wonderful thing in the world-- like he was looking at him right now.

Sirius's throat worked. "I kind of want to kiss you silly, but I'm not really feeling up to standing. Would you erm- help me out and come over here?"

"You- me?"

"Not going to snog anyone else," Sirius said.

James scrambled over to him, nearly knocking over his chair. Only instead of kissing Sirius, he wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight.

"Hey, my lips are down here," Sirius joked.

"Believe me, I know," James muttered, like he'd thought about kissing him a hundred times-- and he had. "I want to wait until you can stand on your own for that though."

"I can stand," Sirius protested.

"For more than two minutes?"

"You're making this harder than it needs to be," Sirius muttered, but he relaxed into James's chest. He'd get a kiss soon enough. And after that, as many kisses as he wanted.

#prongsfoot #marauders #james potter #sirius black #regulus black #fanfic #suicide tw #filled #first war #getting together #siriuslystarbucks #Anonymous

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foxtophat · 3 years ago

Link

hello hello hello

i got thrown off my groove for a month there doing irl shit but i finally sat down and posted this piece of mercy fic that i’ve been sitting on for like a month. it’s all about john and kim hanging out and bonding so that’s fun!!!

i have a couple of ideas for stories but i’m not QUITE SURE how many of them are going to actually get posted. i might do like a yearly synopsis and put it in the series, writing out what happens between stories and stuff so when i reference shit it isn’t out of the blue, BUT ALSO i am lazy and it’s a miracle mercyverse has gotten this much from me, so lets not try to rock the boat huh???

anyway this is a story about john and kim falling into a cave. it’s like a bottle episode except the bottle is like a large intestine. i hope you like it!!! if you do, consider reblogging this post, or sharing the link, or kudosing or commenting or liking or subscribing or SMASHING THAT BELL

as usual, the story is under the cut for those of you who want to stay on tumblr for some godforsaken reason

Kim had thought that she was doing Nick and John a favor when she first offered to go cache-hunting with them. After all, Grace and Carmina had their hands full working on the yard's shooting range, and there hadn't been anything better to do than dig a couple of holes out in the woods. She'd figured, why not? An extra set of hands could speed things up, and she could keep them focused on digging instead of bickering.

Of course, now that she's out here with them, she regrets ever having offered. As it turns out, their method of cache-hunting involves incessantly goading one another into a fight, trading places between aggressive pessimism and irritatingly fake optimism whenever it might serve to piss the other off more. She's given up on trying to stop it; after all, it's not too much worse than what they say while mending fences and hauling scrap. It's just that the distance between them means that they're arguing at a headache-inducing level.

At the very least, Kim had hoped for some kind of method they could fall back on, but at three hours in, they've all but given up. She supposes the first two caches had been pretty easy to find, being in areas where the terrain hasn't changed much — but this neck of the woods has definitely seen some shifting. Between the rock slides and massive knots of collapsed trees, the steep hillside looks more like a beaver dam than the picturesque hiking trail it probably used to be.

"I'm starting to think that Jacob was full of shit," Nick says, as if he hasn't been reiterating the sentiment for the last thirty minutes. "There's no way we're gonna find anything out here."

Nick might be right, but Kim isn't about to gang up on John right now. She's been mostly staying out of it as the two of them argue about Jacob's map coordinates; why get involved now?

She ignores them and instead picks her way up the hillside towards one of the many uprooted trees nearby. Just like the last dozen trees she's checked, this one doesn't hold a barrel in its roots, nor do any of them have any damn sign indicating where they should be looking. Whatever marker Jacob might've left, paranoid bastard that he was, it's definitely been destroyed by the apocalypse.

"I told you that this wasn't going to be easy," John says. "There's half a mile of trail to search, and there's only three of us. This isn't some pasture outside town —"

"When I asked you if we should bring Grace and Carmina along, you said they would just get in the way! Now here you are, telling me we need more people!"

"If they were here, who do you think Grace would blame if Carmina got a goddamn splinter or scraped her knee? How do you still not get that she is actively looking for a reason to shoot me?"

"At this point, I'm looking for a reason, so I don't know what you're expecting!"

Kim has to admit, they're both making pretty good points. She just wishes they wouldn't make it sound like the start of a fistfight.

John's sigh is especially theatrical, and Kim hears the leaves crunch underfoot as he begins to stalk up the hill after her. He's probably going to try passing her, just to get space from Nick, but he really shouldn't bother. They should at least stop for something to eat and some water, and then they can figure out whether or not expanding the search zone is a good idea. They should probably reconsider their current "poke around and hope" method, too.

Setting her sights on a stout, dead tree with its roots partially torn up, Kim decides to make that the last straw. If she's got any luck at all, the cache will be tangled up in the tree's roots, and she'll be able to gloat about finding it for the rest of forever.

"Don't get too excited," John says, catching up to her as he runs away from Nick.

"Too late for that," Kim teases. "My hopes are at an all-time high. I'm about to be crushed by the disappointment."

"Fantastic," John grunts, rolling his eyes.

He lets her take the first approach on the tree, which juts awkwardly out of the ground at an acute angle. Its scraggly branches are covered in dry needles, and the partially exposed root system seems to have rotted from rain. There are no other trees for a good couple of yards in any direction, so this tree must've gotten the brunt of the worst nuclear weather.

"We should take a break," Nick shouts from halfway down the hill. "I need a goddamn drink!"

"I told him this would be a waste of time," John grumbles. "We could have taken any other location, even the one at the goddamn compound, and had better luck than out here."

"Well, we're here now," Kim replies. "Come on, maybe the cache is tangled up in the roots or something."

John reluctantly follows Kim as she tests the spongier, damp soil around the rotting tree's base. It's clear he's already given up, but that only makes Kim more determined to find something worth the trip out here — at the very least, so that she can rub it in John's pessimistic face. He can't be a sour bastard forever.

No barrel in the root system, of course. All Kim finds is molding wood and the flash of exposed rock. It's just muddy enough that Kim's going to have to scrub her boots when they get back. From here, she can see the slope of the hillside, and the trees that slump with their tops pointed in her direction. It's like they're telling her, go back!

"Please talk Nick into giving this up," John insists, lingering right behind her and scowling at the roots that have betrayed both of them.

"I mean, we've only been out here for two hours. There's plenty of time to find something." Kim crouches down to check the rocky substrate for anything interesting. "Look on the bright side, at least we don't have to dig."

"I think you two are blinded by that bright side of yours." John sighs, leaning against the tree and glaring down in Nick's direction. "You know that the interstate is only a half-day hike from here, right? This is the exact sort of place Jacob would've stashed passports, money — bug-out kits to abandon the county, that kind of thing. It's not like he buried more coffee and rice out here."

"So is that your new theory? Jacob was planning escape routes for you guys?"

John frowns. "It's one of them."

Kim stands and comes around to join him by the trunk. She debates on invoking Jacob's memory any more than she already has; he seems to have a habit of upsetting John even from the grave. She gives the tree trunk a little kick as she considers pressing him, knocking some mud from her boot tread.

Her curiosity takes a backseat as the world lurches uncomfortably beneath them. She catches herself against the trunk and looks towards Nick, who's picking his way up towards them. Only now does she notice that the trees in this direction also lean inwards, towards the lone tree they're currently beside.

John catches on at the same time, hissing under his breath before hollering a warning. "It's a goddamn sinkhole, Nick, watch out!"

The inconvenience turns into real fear as Kim considers the terrain. With all the caves littering the mountains around here, there's no telling how deep the void beneath their feet might be — five feet, twenty? Or, God help them, more?

Kim struggles not to panic as Nick makes no effort to hide his own. "Come on, you guys," Nick calls from between two jutting evergreens, "Just cut across before the whole damn thing gives out!"

There's not a second to spare, but even as Kim starts to move she knows it's too late. She gets one last look at Nick's horrified expression before she, John, and the dead tree crash down into the empty space below.

Kim lands hard on her side, her arm taking the brunt of the blow and blossoming in radiant, white-hot pain. The world around her, suddenly dark and unfamiliar, tunnels alarmingly out of her vision, her blood rushing into her ears until she can only vaguely hear her own pained crying. Trying to move only causes daggers of pain to shoot right up her arm and into her brain, but she only finds that out as she rolls off of her definitely broken arm. At least, Kim's pretty sure it's broken. She's terrified of looking over and seeing her bone poking out, or something even worse — she knows that she won't be able to stand it, that she'll pass out, and she can't do that down here in this goddamn cavern!

Vague, warped voices vibrate through her as John appears abruptly by her side. The left side of his face is covered in a smear of blood from a deep wound scored over his brow. His mouth moves like he's trying to speak to her. God, her fucking arm!

"Take a deep breath," John commands once again, and this time Kim hears him and abides. The pain doesn't subside, but at least the panic that comes with it is softened as she struggles to calm down. As she does, the background noises begin to come into focus; the crumbling rubble settling, the sharp, birdless silence of the air, and most importantly, Nick hysterically shouting her name from above.

John puts a hand on the shoulder not currently delivering mountains of pain. "Another one," he says, and Kim obeys. It's while she's trying to catch her breath that John steps away, cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting up, "Kim's broken her arm!"

"God damn it, what happened — never mind, just —! Stay put! I'll go get help!" Nick's voice cracks as he realizes aloud, "Shit, there's nobody to get help from!"

Kim sucks in a deep breath. There's no way that John is going to be able to handle Nick's mounting panic by himself, and so she steels herself and tries to steady her voice. "It's gonna be okay!" she shouts. "I'm fine!"

"Bullshit you're fine, that looks like a two-story drop from here!"

John swears under his breath. "I don't have time for this."

"He's going to try and jump down if we don't talk him out of it," Kim hisses, closing her eyes as a wave of painful pins and needles washes up her arm. She keeps accidentally moving it, and the feeling of the bone scraping is enough to make her want to vomit.

John clearly decides she's right, changing tactics as Kim desperately tries not to start sobbing again. "It isn't bad, Nick!" he shouts, "But I need rope if I'm going to splint it! Get the cord from the glove box!"

Nick is quiet for a moment. "Y-Yeah," he calls down shakily, "I... I guess you got plenty to work with — hold on!"

Kim lets out a breath she hadn't meant to hold, then bites back the scream that threatens to rip from her throat. "Please tell me you can do this," she moans as John crouches down beside her broken arm. "I can't look — is there bone?"

"There's no bone," John replies. His voice is tight and unhappy, but at least he isn't lacking in confidence when he tells her, "I know what I'm doing. Try to stay conscious, and don't move. The last thing I need is to be stuck alone with Nick."

"Excuse him for worrying," she groans, staring up at the sky through the fifteen-foot-wide hole above her. She counts down the seconds until Nick gets back, if only to focus on something other than the pain.

John leaves her to it, making his way over to the tree that's joined them here in the cavern. There isn't much else down here besides them and the vegetation that came down with them; the sinkhole must have joined with a cavern somewhere along the way. The rock here probably hasn't seen daylight before — when she glances around, she spots a dark crack in the wall that implies there might be more, unlit caves to explore beyond.

Boy, she really does not want to go into that creepy tunnel, and she especially doesn't want to do it with a broken arm. Thankfully, Nick returns before that worry turns to panic.

"Everything okay? Actually, never mind — look, I got the rope, and the first-aid kit!"

Anything Nick decides to throw down is going to stay down here, and so Kim quickly stops him. "You keep that, Nick! If you get hurt up there, you'll need it!"

"We need it more," John points out, returning to her with a few branches that he clearly intends to use as a splint. He's not wrong about the medkit; the cut over his eye is a nasty one, and Kim could use all of those expired painkillers about now. Not to mention, there might be more injuries they've missed.

Still. "I'm not leaving Nick without supplies," she says.

John doesn't reply, but his scowl speaks volumes.

After a minute or so, Nick is ready to throw the cord down. They coordinate the hand-off just fine without her, which is great, because Kim needs to reserve all of her strength for what's to come.

Nick's bundled a few of the medical supplies into his worn-out flannel, along with the crank flashlight and one of the ultra-dry military rations, all tied off with the paracord. Kim is both touched at the thought and horrified at the idea that they might be here long enough to get hungry.

"This is good, Nick," John calls. "We're in a cave — there's got to be another way out nearby!"

"I'll go look for a way in!"

"No," Kim shouts, her voice cracking, "You might get hurt, Nick!"

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do, Kim! I'm not gonna leave you down there!"

Kim has never in her life imagined that she would say her next words, but that doesn't mean she doesn't mean it. "I'm going to be okay! John's down here with me, I'll be fine!"

John doesn't seem to have expected her to say that, either, boggling at her with open confusion. But... well, come on! If John can trust her enough to gun down Peggies trying to kidnap him, then she can at least trust him to help her limp out of one of Hope County's many caves. Sure, it's not an ideal situation by any means, but Kim's just happy not to be stuck looking for a way out by herself.

"Are you sure you can even walk?" Nick calls uneasily.

"I can handle it, Nick," John replies for her. "We'll look for a way out — if we don't find anything in an hour, we'll come back here and try something else!"

"What the hell do you want me to do!"

John pauses long enough to look at Kim, but since he seems to have more ideas than she does, she defers to his judgment. "Circle west around the hill and look for any entrances to call from! There's going to be a cave opening somewhere nearby!"

"I don't like any of this, Kim!"

John pinches the bridge of his nose, leaving Kim to answer, "It's the only plan we've got!"

The silence from above stretches out. "We don't have time for this," John mutters, abandoning his attempts to reassure Nick. "There's no telling where a way out might be, and I'm not wasting more time because Nick can't trust me."

"It's not about trust," Kim snipes in return. "He's trying not to panic."

John only grunts in return, settling on his knees next to her as he prepares to do the hard part for her. That leaves it up to Kim to encourage Nick to get a move on; she really doesn't want him sticking around for the painful part. "Nick, be careful, I don't want you to fall in another sinkhole! We'll be okay!"

Nick is frustratingly silent for another moment, but eventually, he relents. "Okay, fine! Remember to mark your path! And don't trust any ropes or ladders you see! And stay outta any water you find, you don't know how deep it is!"

"Jesus Christ," John mutters.

"Oh, shut up," Kim tells him, lifting her strained voice to call back. "Alright, Nick! We'll be careful! We'll see you soon!"

Kim makes John wait another minute after Nick leaves before she lets him at her arm. Despite his sour expression, John manages to be nothing more than stern, and surprisingly gentle. "Careful," he tells her, as if she needs a warning as he adjusts her broken arm. She's unable to decide if the burning sensation or the stabbing sensation is worse, but they're both vying for the spot as John examines the fracture. God, she hopes he knows what he's doing. She hopes it heals clean. She doesn't know what she'll do if she loses the thing.

John jostles her a little too abruptly, and a gasp of pain tears her from her downward spiral of worst possible outcomes. If John notices, he doesn't comment.

"It's not so bad," he says, although Kim's still not sure if she trusts his judgment on the matter. "It seems like a single fracture. I'll splint it, and... Well, there's somebody in town with medical experience, isn't there?"

"I don't know," Kim gasps, head reeling, "Maybe?"

John sighs. "Well, at least you'll survive."

"You better hope so," Kim jokes, or tries to anyway.

John rolls his eyes, but thankfully he's not in a vindictive mood as he prepares to set her arm. "You'll want to scream," he tells her. "Try breathing through your nose instead."

He sure isn't wrong. Kim can't think straight for a minute after he's finished, her face wet as the pain forces her to tears, but John is utterly detached and methodical as he binds her arm to one of the branches. It's reassuring at first, but Kim can't help but wonder just how many people suffered broken bones and serious trauma at his hands, only to see the same dispassionate bedside manner afterward? God, assuming they even survived what he put them through.

"Catch your breath," John tells her once he's done, standing and turning back to further investigate the tree. "The cave systems go on for miles down here, but there are dozens of openings in the hills. As long as we stick to the larger tunnels, we should be able to find one of them."

Kim watches him pick through the tree, sizing out larger branches and dismissing them one by one.

"I'm surprised you're not more freaked out," she says as he picks out a four-foot branch. "You know, being underground and everything."

John furiously breaks the branch from the trunk, then roughly cleans it of dead sprigs and foliage. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Sorry, I just meant —"

"I know what you meant," he says. "It's fine. I'm not... Like I said, these tunnels are hardly inescapable." He strikes the branch against the ground and seems satisfied by the sound. "I spent a lot of time studying the cave systems out here. We considered using them for passage between the gates, but that plan never went anywhere. It left me with enough useless knowledge that I'm not prone to panic down here."

"Useless until now," Kim points out. "Now help me up and let's get the hell out of here."

John helps her to her feet with her good arm, careful not to jostle the splint as she tests her balance. The world heaves for an uncomfortable second or two before righting itself, although it's mostly shock and adrenaline keeping her moving. She's not sure how long that's going to last, but she sure hopes it's long enough to reunite with Nick.

"I should probably lead," John says, looking unhappy about her tentatively upright position.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm in the position to trail-blaze."

"You're barely in the position to walk," he replies. Casting one last look around the sunlit cavern, John turns towards the dark crack in the wall that leads further into the system. "Try not to pass out."

"No promises," she says, staggering her way to their only exit.

She can feel the cool, musty air from here, oddly relieving against her sweaty face. She wishes she hadn't watched The Descent so many times before the apocalypse, because that is really coloring her perception of this situation. Of course, they're more likely to run into a wolverine or bear den than they are to be hunted by a pack of cave-dwelling mutants, but that doesn't stop her from considering it.

John starts forward. Kim, anxious and trembling in pain, tries to joke. "Just avoid stepping on any weird symbols carved into the ground, okay?"

"Christ," John groans, the same way he does every time somebody tries to rope him in with a pop-culture reference. He winds the flashlight up and the beam of light cuts a sharp swath across the dark tunnel "Will you two please let that Hollywood bullshit die already?"

"Oh, relax," she replies. "Tropes are older than L.A. and you know it. They aren't going to disappear just because civilization got nuked."

"One can dream," John snipes dryly in return.

Of course, even with the attitude, John keeps close to Kim, sticking to her uninjured side. Kim imagines her slow pace must be irritating the crap out of him, but he impressively manages not to sigh or stomp like a passive-aggressive toddler. He's been getting a lot better about letting his exasperation get to him, although she bets it's got a lot to do with exhaustion and survival instinct right now.

The silence stretches for a time between them. Kim imagines John is lost in his thoughts, but she's been hyper-aware of every distant sound of rubble shifting or oddly-shaped rock formations that are easy to mistake for humanoid shapes in the dark. The tunnel is only about eight feet across and somewhat taller than that, but that's plenty of room for Kim's imagination to play tricks on her.

"I always thought your anti-Hollywood thing was some kind of shtick," she admits. "Maybe you got scorned on a screenplay or something, I dunno. But you really believe that all of the entertainment industry deserved to get firebombed out of existence?"

"It deserved a reckoning," John replies.

"You mean something like nuclear annihilation?"

John's frown deepens. "Maybe," he says stiffly.

Normally, Kim would try to dig into that more, but she's not in a position to make much sense of it right now. Honestly, the conversation is irrelevant — she just needs something to keep her from fantasizing about monsters in the dark. Or, you know, passing out. Whichever would be worse.

"So I guess you don't have a desert island five, then."

John huffs loudly at that. "I wouldn't be able to remember it."

That just tells Kim that he does have one. She bets American Psycho or Fight Club was on it. Maybe Fear and Loathing?

"Okay, well... say you had to pick a movie to watch as soon as we got home. What would it be?"

Even without looking, Kim knows he's rolling his eyes. "Seriously? Is this really the time?"

"Humor me."

He groans in annoyance, but Kim doesn't miss the short stretch of silence that follows as he thinks it over.

"I don't know," he finally grumbles.

"Come on, you've got to have something."

"I only ever saw a handful of movies growing up, and I lost interest in the medium in college."

"God, you must have been a pretentious bastard."

Despite himself, John chuckles at the jab. "Oh, you have no idea," he replies.

The conversation dies, just like John had probably hoped it would. Kim tries to find something else to distract her, but there's really not much to look at. They've only found one offshoot that John had been able to fit in, but it had ended only a few yards in. They've been exploring for maybe fifteen minutes, though; there's still time for a miracle. Until then, she's got moss to look at, and the distant trickle of water from somewhere far away. With the way the land's shifted, there may be a new river forming somewhere up on the surface. In a few decades, it could swallow these caverns entirely.

"How does your arm feel?" John asks, his voice bouncing off the walls and breaking the silence.

"Not... great," she admits, still trying not to focus on the numb agony of her arm. "I wouldn't mind lying down and sleeping for a few weeks right about now, but I think I can keep it together until we find a way out."

She hopes, anyway.

"Good." John takes a moment to crank the flashlight before it can go out, then picks up the conversation as though Kim weren't even there. "There's nobody in town that I know of that has serious medical experience. With the gates destroyed, there's no telling where the experts we'd vetted for the Project wound up. Dead, probably. Or worse, still involved with Joseph. Hell, even a vet would be better than nothing."

He's definitely more anxious than he wants to let on. Kim doesn't believe for a second that being in this endless, dark tunnel is any better than being trapped in a bunker, save for maybe the space. At least in a bunker, you know which way is out, and you know what's going to kill you.

Now Kim is the one who starts to ramble. "I mean, there's got to be an eagle scout out there somewhere. And there were a couple of doctors still working when I had Carmina — one of them might've survived, right? Somebody out there will know enough to check your handiwork. For the record, though, I think you did a pretty good job for a guy stuck in a pit."

John shakes his head. "I've set plenty of broken limbs." There's a weird sort of challenge in his voice as he says, "Of course, I was the one who broke most of them."

"And I think you feel pretty shitty about it, so I don't know why you sound so smug."

"I'm just reminding you of who you're trying to compliment."

Kim rolls her eyes, her exasperation carrying over in her voice. "I know exactly who you are, John. Quit trying to rile me up like you do with Nick, it isn't going to work."

He huffs. "Sure," he says, then promptly shuts up. Of course he does. No wonder he only ever wants to talk to Nick — it's like he doesn't know how to hold a conversation without trying to start a fight.

Well, Kim needs something to distract her, so she'll carry on with it herself. "I've sprained my ankle a couple of times, but the only time I've ever broken a bone was in soccer camp when I was... thirteen, I think? It was my big toe, and the humiliation was way worse than the pain."

"I can't imagine," John drawls, distinctly unenthusiastic.

Kim opens her mouth to ask the obvious question, then catches herself. Asking about John's past is essentially opening Pandora's box; every time Kim has gone digging, she comes away with something new she wishes she could forget about. The breadcrumbs of information he's given her over the past year or so have honestly kept her up some nights. She probably doesn't want to know anything about the number of broken bones John's had. She definitely doesn't want to know how.

John looks over at her, daring her to ask. It's only when Kim manages to contain her curiosity that he parts with a few terse details. "The first time was when I was eleven. It was a powerful learning experience. One I... try not to revisit."

"Sure," she says. It sounds reasonable enough, anyway.

The flashlight's beam cuts across the wall further ahead, revealing the first major fork that they've come across. They're forced to take an impromptu break as John tries to determine their best way forward. John scowls at the darkness in either direction, but it doesn't seem to help make a decision. Meanwhile, Kim takes the opportunity to rest against the cold stone, swallowing down the nausea that's starting to build. It's a miracle that she's made it this far without fainting, but she doesn't think John's in the mood to hear that.

Frowning, John turns the flashlight back the way they came, sweeping the light down the forking path. "Strange," he mutters.

"What?"

"It's nothing," he says, sweeping the light down the way they came. "Except... see this?"

He steps closer to highlight a uniformly rectangular notch in the wall, just about hip-level. Moving the light reveals more, equally spaced notches, continuing along the wall of the newest fork in their road.

"There were guide ropes installed at one point or another. It doesn't seem to be an active mine, though — it must've been for dumb tourists, just in case of lawsuits."

"I hate to tell you, John, but right now, we're the dumb tourists."

"Unfortunately so. I guess that means we should take the left."

It's smaller, and it looks just as untouched as the rest of the cave has so far, but John's made a compelling point about the seemingly man-made notches.

"You're the expert," Kim says, "I'll take your word for it."

"Alright," he says, not as enthusiastic as Kim would have hoped for. He eyes her somewhat critically, then asks, "How are you doing?"

It's probably the pain making her delirious, but she's surprised at John's concern for her wellbeing. She really shouldn't be. Of course he cares; even if he weren't actively trying to be less awful, he's too smart to leave Kim down here and risk Nick finding out. But still. She's pain-addled enough to be touched by the sentiment.

That doesn't mean she's in the mood to sugarcoat the truth. "I'm surprised I'm still standing," she says. "Let's just hope we find Nick before I pass out."

"I'm sure he'd enjoy seeing me carrying your limp body out of the abandoned mine."

Kim laughs, regretting it as it sends an ache jolting through her body. "Oh, I bet. Just don't be surprised if I tap out at some point."

"You're stronger than that," John remarks. "Follow me."

Now, following John Seed through a dark cave tunnel with a broken arm seems like it would be a bad time. If this were ten, eleven years ago, Kim's sure she would be hunting for a weapon or looking for her own escape route. That is, of course, assuming he hadn't left her to die down here. No doubt that her survival would've banked on how much he would have needed her.

She's glad that's not the case now. John is a reliable navigator, slow-going and cautious as he leads the way, testing suspect rock formations and ducking into narrow crags that don't go anywhere. Honestly, he's probably being more cautious than they need to be. It's already been a half-hour or so, and they're going to need to turn back before much longer.

John has other concerns to bother him, though. "I wonder what happened to the anchors," he says at one point. "You'd think we would have found one by now."

"Maybe they took the rope down before the Collapse," Kim points out. "Lots of tourist traps weren't exactly up to code. Earl probably got here way before we did, back when he was trying to crack down on these kinds of things."

John frowns thoughtfully. "Maybe."

"It's not like people are down here renovating for the next season."

"We don't know that," he points out grimly. "Survivors might've hidden from the radiation down here. Or maybe some angels got lost after Faith was killed."

"Come on, John," she groans.

"Nick's always wondering where the mutants are. Maybe we'll be the ones to find them."

Kim side-eyes John just in time to catch the remnants of a smirk on his face, and she can't help but elbow him with her good arm. She tries to admonish him, telling him, "Knock it off," but she can't help laughing as she does.

"You're probably right about the code violations," John chuckles at last, lifting the light to check the ceiling ahead as it dips low enough for them to need to duck. "Not a lot of these cave systems were what I'd call safe. It's one of the reasons we decided against using them as tunnels. The work involved was too expensive, and the chance of cave-ins was too high. And, as we've found out, they weren't guaranteed to stay underground."

"So, what was going to happen instead? Were you guys going to rely on radios, or what?"

"It doesn't matter what we decided," John points out, more weary of the conversation than irritated. "The gates were barely finished before the Deputy destroyed them, and we never got to find out what might've happened."

They follow the notches through two more forks, and Kim starts to worry that they're only going deeper into the old attraction. Well, at least they're taking the easy way. With a smooth floor and a ceiling that rarely drops lower than eight feet, Kim gets the impression that they're in a manufactured mine, and not an organic one. For all they know, some crazy prepper dug this tunnel out to make a quick buck for his bunker-building hobby. Of course, if that's the case, it's a miracle that nothing's caved in yet.

They pass underneath a lower segment of the ceiling, and the tunnel abruptly opens up into a massive cavern. Defunct light rigs are scattered amongst the stalagmites, with several hanging stalactites covered in chipped fluorescent paint. The rest of the rock outcroppings are covered in lichen, which disappointingly fails to glow in the dark. As John sweeps the flashlight across the large, empty space, Kim gets a good idea of the cheap edu-tainment that was offered on short hikes through the mines. Somewhere in here, there's probably a storage closet full of Halloween decor waiting to liven up the otherwise boring cavern.

"Well, this wasn't worth the twenty dollars it cost to get in," John grouses.

"Don't forget the thirty-dollar iron-on tee-shirts they print off at home," Kim reminds him with a laugh. It's enough to make her lightheaded, and she doesn't quite regain her balance, even after she braces herself against the wall.

"We can only rest a minute," he warns her, sweeping the light in the direction they need to go. Any more huffing and puffing on his part is diminished as the light glints off the rounded edge of something metallic. When John refocuses the light on the object, neither of them really know what to say.

Lying amongst the rocks, battered and dirty, is one of the dark green bliss containers they've been looking for. Kim looks up, but the ceiling is rooted in darkness, and she can't see any sign of another cave-in or sinkhole. The idea that Jacob might've come this far himself crosses her mind, but if that were the case, why is it sitting out in the open like that?

"John, wait," Kim calls as John steps off the path. Suddenly, all her jokes about booby traps seem tasteless, especially with John charging into the unknown like he is.

Of course, this isn't Indiana Jones, and there's no pit of spikes or tripwire to trigger. John doesn't wind up with a face-full of poison darts as he picks up the dented canister; the only thing he's forced to sacrifice is a good grip on the flashlight, which shines at an awkward angle and only illuminates a useless part of the floor. His slow pace and the bad lighting leave Kim to imagine what he's found inside — remnants of supplies, or a dead animal? Indications that something chewed through the rubber sealant, maybe?

John drops the barrel between them, the clanging metal causing Kim to jump. John doesn't notice as he reorients the light, leaning over to illuminate the barrel's contents. The interior is flaked with rust, and whatever sealant had been used is all but completely worn away. The only thing left inside is an empty, smashed bottle of liquor and a few wrapped, moldy packages of cigarettes.

"I don't know if I'm disappointed or not," Kim says.

"I know I am," John replies, grimly reaching into the empty barrel to check for a false bottom. The screech of metal rises up into the cavern, bouncing off the far ceiling and turning into an ugly birdsong. Kim leans back against the wall; if she keeps looking down, she's going to end up toppling over like a broken Weeble-Wobble. John glances her way after a moment, before lifting a clump of wet paper out from the depths of the barrel.

"Of course he buried documents here," John mutters. Kim can't quite pin down whether he's upset or resigned to the bad luck at this point.

"Anything salvageable?" she asks.

"Doubtful. I'll... bring these along, I guess." He checks again, digging out what he can. Other than the loose papers, there's a water-logged manila envelope and an equally soaked box of ammunition. John tucks the box away in his front pocket, holding the papers uncomfortably in his hand. "We'll worry about what these are once we're out of here."

Despite the pain in her arm giving her full-body tremors and John's dismal mood, Kim is nearly upbeat as they exit the cavern. They're still in civilization, after all, even if it's a defunct tourist trap, and the knowledge that they're clearly on their way out is the main thing keeping her moving. If they're lucky, they aren't too far from the truck — if they're really lucky, Nick will have found the entrance before them.

They eventually find a few anchors that are still moored to the walls, a knotted bit of rope still attached, and Kim breathes a sigh of relief. The sigh quickly turns to a groan of pain as she rattles her arm, but at least it isn't enough to knock her off her feet.

John hesitates in front of her, slowing just enough so that he can offer his arm to her. "We can't stop now," he tells her.

"I know," she pants, wiping sweat from her forehead that she hadn't realized was gathering. "Okay. We're nearly there."

She gives up on pretending entirely, leaning heavily against John as they continue forward. Lying down and resting for, oh, a hundred years or so sounds great right now, but first, she needs to make sure Nick hasn't had a heart attack waiting for them. He's probably convinced himself that they've gotten killed somehow, and John isn't going to be able to talk him down on his own.

They approach what will hopefully be the last fork in the tunnel, only to find that both directions have anchors. The newest offshoot seems to curve pretty severely downwards, though; it's clear even as they stop that they should stick to the path they've been on.

"I don't like this," John says, looking first behind them and then ahead, down the new path.

"Fine," Kim groans, "You can choose the next tourist trap we get stuck in."

"I'm serious, Kim." John turns the flashlight down the new path. The air coming from that direction is thick and stagnate — Kim's imagination unhelpfully supplies a few images of killer clowns and deformed mutants to lurk down in the dark that way. God, why did she have to like horror movies so much? Why couldn't she have enjoyed normal, safe entertainment that wouldn't have filled her imagination with monsters and a deep-rooted fear of the unexplored dark?

It certainly doesn't help as John says, "I keep getting the feeling that we're being watched."

"Okay, that's it," Kim snaps, desperately trying to bury the surge of fear the suggestion fills her with. "I'm done being creeped out."

"I'm not trying to scare you —"

"Well, you're naturally gifted, okay? Look, let's just — we know that's the way out," she says, nodding towards the safer route. "Let's just go that way. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Agreed," John grunts.

John adopts a brisk walk that Kim has some trouble keeping up with, but she's not interested in slowing down for anything. She feels vindicated by their choice of exit as they pass a faded safety sign lying on the ground, as well as the decidedly fresher air coming in from what Kim expects to be the exit. There are a few moments where John has to resist breaking out into a jog; Kim can't exactly blame him, but his jitters are amping up her own anxiety, and now she's trying desperately to listen for chasing footsteps behind them. It's hard to hear much of anything over the blood pounding in her ears.

It's a massive relief when John finally slows down. "It must have been an animal," he says at last, casting one last look behind them. "God, I fucking hate being underground."

"Well, let's hope we aren't leading the mutants to the surface world," Kim jokes. It probably would land better if she didn't sound completely wiped.

John frowns at her, but the dark makes it hard to pin down his expression. "We're almost there," he says, which sounds alarming like a reassurance.

Her spirits lift as they pass an overturned rail barricade, but the wind is immediately taken out of her sails as they find the path blocked by a chained and padlocked gate. The thick gauge chain-link fence has been welded to brackets on the wall; the bottom has been bent outwards, likely from some angry animal forcing its way through. Unfortunately, it's too small for either of them to get through.

"For fuck's sake," John hisses between gritted teeth.

They're not going anywhere, and Kim's nausea forces her to find something more solid than John for support. She manages to stagger to the nearest wall before falling against it, but it's enough to make her regret moving at all.

At least she manages a weak thumbs up when John anxiously asks, "Are you alright?"

"Just — giving you room to work," she gurgles, staggering a few feet back down the path before throwing up.

John swears under his breath as Kim tries to coax her headache back to something more manageable. She can hear him tearing at the gate behind her; if she weren't feeling so miserable, she'd probably be flipping out on it, too. As it is, she takes her sweet time to turn around and start back for the fence, watching as John tries to widen the gap left behind by some tenacious wolverine. It's going to wreck her arm to try and weasel through the hole, but Kim is willing to try anything at this point.

"How far are we from the truck?" Kim rasps. "Maybe Nick can hear us?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" John snaps, well past the end of his rope. Kim has to admit, she's surprised he made it this far. "God damn it, I don't know where we are any better than you!"

"Okay, point taken," Kim says — after all, she's in no position to argue with him. As it is, it's taking most of her focus to keep from sinking to the ground. As soon as she's sitting, she's going to pass out, and she's not in any position to be doing that yet.

Thankfully, Nick's voice reaches them before she can give up. A tidal wave of relief floods Kim at the sound of him calling her name; she staggers forward, gripping the chain-link with her good arm.

"Nick!" she shouts. The sound of her own voice bouncing off the walls only amplifies her pounding headache, but it doesn't stop her from shouting his name a few more times in desperation.

John grabs her good shoulder. "Careful," he says, "Take it easy."

"You take it easy," Kim snaps as Nick's voice bounces off the far-away cave entrance. Trying to glare at John is a mistake, as vertigo nearly sends her to the floor. The only thing that keeps her upright is John's grip on her arm, easing her back until she finds the wall for support.

"Let me handle it," he says.

Kim has no choice but to follow his orders, reeling against the wall as he picks up the impromptu game of Marco Polo. She's not sure how much time passes between her slow, long blinks, but all that matters is the moment that she sees Nick appear with the lantern held high. It's enough to bring her to tears — well, that and the dizzying pain — and from Nick's tearful shout, it's having the same effect on him.

"Oh, thank Christ," he gasps as he reaches the gate, rattling it with his free hand as if he could just pry it back. "Kim, you're alive! Are you okay?" He turns the full force of his relief on John, concern furrowing his brow. "Jesus, John, are you okay? We needa get that cut looked at."

"It's fine," John says. "You didn't see any keys anywhere, did you?"

"Let me go check the ticket booth," Nick replies. "Don't worry, you guys — I'm not about to let a goddamn padlock stop me."

Nick jogs back down the tunnel and Kim finally sags, sliding to the ground with a tired groan.

"Okay, John," she sighs, "Mission accomplished. Wake me up when we get home."

"Kim, hold on," John replies, but frankly there's no stopping her now. This was as far as she'd hoped to get on her own two feet, and honestly, she's surprised that she made it that far.

She does rouse briefly as Nick begins wailing on the padlock with a steel pipe, but that's something the boys can handle without her. Here and there, she registers hands on her, and dappled light flashes over her face as they finally escape the caves. The fresh air brings her back long enough to help Nick get her settled in the truck, but she's already dozing off by the time John and Nick start arguing again. The rest of the trip, for better or worse, is completely lost on her.

————

When Kim finally comes to, she's immediately met by the familiar sight of her room at home. She can't tell what time it is, only that it's late enough for the lamp to be lit. Judging by the voices downstairs, everyone is still awake — and going by the sling and bandages, they've had some company since she was last conscious. She allows herself to imagine the whole thing was all a horrible nightmare, just for a second, but the throbbing in her arm is already reminding her of the unfortunate truth. At least she can check "escape mutants in a tunnel" off of her bucket list.

She doesn't have long to focus on the slowly returning pain; it's not even a minute later that she hears boots on the stairs, and Nick pokes his head in not long after.

"Hey," is about all she can muster up before she has to clear her throat, but it's enough.

"Christ, Kim!" he exclaims, throwing open the door as he rushes to her side. The worry breaks on his face as he crouches beside her, careful not to jostle her broken arm. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"Uh... not awesome," she admits, shifting in an attempt to sit up. Nick hurries to help her, and she can't help but smile at him as he piles the pillows behind her. "Better now, though."

"That's what I'm here for," Nick laughs, "That and making everybody else uncomfortable. They kept tellin' me not to worry, but you know how hard that is."

"They?"

"Well, John mostly, until Jerome and Grace showed up. Then I had to keep it together for Carmina, so that helped. Uh. How much do you remember about gettin' back here?"

"Not much," Kim says. Now that she's more conscious, she's able to discern the late evening light for what it is; it's been hours since she was last aware of where she was. "I... remember getting into the truck, I think? And then... Nothing. Why? What did I miss?"

Nick shakes his head, smiling fondly at her. "Nothing much, honest. Most of the ride back was me and John arguing about what to do. He radioed Jerome for help while I got you up here and settled in, then I called up Grace so she could keep Carmina busy until Jerome showed up with some help. I guess Winona, y'know, down at the Eagle? She was getting her nursing degree, or license, or whatever, so Jerome brought her over here to help out. She said it looked like a clean enough break, and John did a good job setting it, so we just had to make sure you wouldn't be accidentally moving in your sleep." He chuckles. "You know, real exciting stuff."

"Oh, boy," Kim groans, "I bet I scared the crap out of Carmina. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Worried about you, obviously, but Grace gave her a pep talk and we kept her busy downstairs. Figured you oughta be awake before she came to see you."

"Good call." Kim briefly debates whether or not getting out of bed is worth it, but she quickly decides against it. Even if she weren't wiped out, Nick looks like he'd fall apart with worry if she tried to exert herself. "You might have to go get her, because I don't think I could move if I wanted to."

"Don't even think about it," Nick says, pointing at her as he gets back to his feet. "You're on bed rest until tomorrow at least. I'll be right back."

Kim dozes for the few minutes that stretch between Nick leaving and Carmina coming up the stairs. It's impossible to fall back asleep, but the rest is good enough on its own. She makes sure to perk up when she hears Carmina coming up the stairs, smiling wide as her daughter enters the doorway.

"Hey, honey," she says, her voice rougher than she'd expected it to be.

"Mom!" Carmina exclaims, careful to avoid jostling Kim as she climbs into the bed on her good side. "I was so worried!"

Kim folds her arm around Carmina's shoulders and gives her a squeeze. "I know, sweetheart. I didn't mean to spook you."

"What happened? Dad said you and John fell into a cave!"

"That's pretty much it," Kim laughs. "We fell through a sinkhole into an old cave system. It used to be a place people could visit, though, so it wasn't hard to find our way out."

Carmina frowns, picking at a loose thread in the comforter. "But it was probably really dark. And your arm was broken, and John busted his head open, and..."

"First of all, his head wasn't busted open," Kim says, reaching up to ruffle Carmina's hair. "He probably needed a few stitches, sure, but he knew what he was doing, and we both made it out okay. And your dad got the flashlight to us, so we had plenty of light to see by."

Obviously, Kim never wants to go back to that awful place, but she needs her daughter to learn not to panic now, in case she ever has to go into those tunnels herself. There's no summer camp to enroll her in that will teach her how to be mindful of caves, so Kim's going to have to do it herself... She just wishes she'd gotten to it before she'd had her own scary experience.

Carmina huffs, frowning briefly at the door. "You were lucky John was there," she says.

Kim bites back on her knee-jerk reaction to scoff at the idea. "You're right," she admits, a little more reluctant to do so than she really should be.

"Nobody else thinks so," Carmina grumbles. "Grace got mad dad left you two down there and then Jerome got mad at John for getting you hurt and Winona was really mad that she had to give John stitches. I wanted to say something but dad wouldn't let me."

"That's because they have good reasons not to trust him," Kim points out, although that excuse is starting to wear a little thin, even with her. "They just need time."

Carmina groans. "I guess. I'm... just really glad you're okay."

Kim squeezes Carmina's shoulder. "Me too."

Carmina sighs. "So... what was it like?" she asks, unable to resist her curiosity any longer.

That's okay by Kim — she could use the distraction. "Well... it was dark, and chilly. It was really quiet — the only thing we could hear was water dripping on the walls and our footsteps. The tunnel wasn't very interesting... but there was a big cavern in the middle where we found the cache, covered in stalactites and stalagmites. You could see where they used to have lights rigged up, and they'd painted some of the rocks to glow in the dark."

"You didn't see any animals?" Carmina frowns. "I always thought animals would hide in the caves."

Kim absolutely will not be telling her daughter about John's creepy sense of danger, thanks. "You know, we didn't. There isn't a lot of food for rabbits or cougars in there, though. I think they usually prefer little caves, not big ones."

There are plenty more questions for Carmina to ask that Kim only barely knows the answers to. Thankfully, geography and natural history are easy to teach hands-on; while she's not about to go back to the cave they just escaped, there are a couple of old attractions she remembers visiting that might do the trick. Places with good gift shops and little museums and educational plaques everywhere to help Kim explain how basic geology works.

"If you want, we can do some cave exploring of our own one day," Kim offers. "I'll need some time to get better, first. And I'll have to find the right place. But when we have some free time..."

"That sounds fun," Carmina says. "Just don't fall into another one first?"

"I'll do my best. We'll, uh, teach you what to look for so you don't make the same mistake."

They talk for a little while longer about the cave systems that litter Hope County, but it's not exactly Kim's favorite topic right now. It's a relief when Carmina declares that she needs water; even more so when she offers to bring some up to Kim. She considers asking Carmina to relay her thanks to John, but it can honestly wait until morning. Hopefully by then, she'll have adjusted to the makeshift cast, although she suspects she'll have plenty of time to get used to it. How long does it take a broken bone to heal, she wonders? Probably a few months, at least. She's really going to have to take it easy, and hope that nothing catastrophic happens while she's down one working arm.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic #mercyverse

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toloveawarlord · 4 years ago

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The Ties that Bind (Ch. 6)

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Pairing: Rena x Ieyasu

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @shangsty @youreawizardharr @starry-starry-night24 @gay-noodle-clan @thetwinkims

A/N: 12 days of ocmas day 5! Wow it’s been a long time since I wrote Rena. As promised, this chapter is a flashback into their lives before the main story. We’ll be jumping back to the future for the next one, but I think I’ll continue to throw in flashback chapters like this one! A special shout to shangsty for messaging me about this fic. I wouldn’t have continued it if not for your support! I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to it.

“You’re wrapping that wrong.”

“It looks too loose.”

“Can’t you do it the right way?”

Ignoring him only frustrated the young warlord. I tugged the bandage loose from my ankle and threw it through the dungeon bars at him. “If you’re so worried about it, then come in here and do it yourself.”

Ieyasu was silent for moment, but ultimately gave in. “I’ll call for a guard-” He’d sent them away for privacy after learning that I’d been placed here due to non-compliance. He’d barely gotten dressed and arrived with a deep frown.

“No need. It’s unlocked,” I said with a cheeky smile. There wasn’t a lock that I couldn’t pick.

The door creaked as it opened. Ieyasu dropped to one knee, reaching out to swipe my injured ankle up and rest it on his knee. “Why can’t you follow the rules?” His words ones laced with irritation, but his hands were gentle, wrapping the bandage with expert precision.

“I’ve held up my end of our agreement, and yet you still refuse to give me leave to visit my family. I will not be a caged bird, Ieyasu.” It had been months since my arrival at the castle, trading places with a little loved one in order to pay for the crimes committed.

Emerald irises lifted to meet golden ones. “You’re my hostage until the debt has been paid.” He repeated it often as if I’d forget. The young warlord needing to remain strong and unwavering before his men.

I sighed, leaning back against the cool stone wall. “Hostage or not, you made a vow and I expect you to honor it, my lord.” The title only one I used when annoyed with him. We’d been in each other’s company for a year now, and he still didn’t have an ounce of trust in me it seemed. “Am I allowed to leave the dungeon now or do I need to beg for forgiveness first?”

“As if you’d ever beg,” Ieyasu retorted with a roll of his eyes. Satisfied with his work, the warlord rose to his feet. It would be troublesome if I ran, so he took my arm to help me stand before stooping to throw me over his shoulder. “I will drop you if you struggle.”

He planned to carry me all the way to his chambers like this. In front of the entire castle? This surely wouldn’t make the maids and servants dislike me even more. “That’s preferable to this arrangement! I’m perfectly capable of walking.” My ankle hardly injured. The vassal who’d tossed me in here cared little on how I’d landed.

Ieyasu didn’t answer me. From my upside-down vantage point, only a glimpse of features was visible. It must be the blood rushing to my head, otherwise, I’d have sworn there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Fetch my horse.”

“Right away my lord.”

The world was right way round again at last. My dizzy spell lasted only a few moments, but we were at the castle gates. Curious. He’d never let me this close before.

A vassal delivered his horse, sneering at me in the process. “Shall I gather the guard for this excursion?”

“That won’t be necessary. We won’t be gone long.” Ieyasu mounted with ease, offering his hand down to me. The bewilderment on my features must have been a sight as he smirked. “Get on before I change my mind.”

Sat on the saddle in front of him, it was impossible not to feel him. His strong arms trapping me against his broad chest. The horse setting into a canter didn’t help matters. Even with the wind whipping around, my body was oh so hot. It was easy to think of him as this abstract thing when keeping my distance, but whenever we touched, I was reminded how much of a man he was.

Ieyasu didn’t speak as we rode down a familiar path. Deep in the forest there was a house, once abandoned but now occupied by those I called my family. Morning dew still coated the grass as the horse gratefully indulged in a morning meal after the ride.

“Rena!” “It’s Rena!” “Rena’s back!”

A chorus of excited squeals filled the air. The news spread through the home quickly and I’d only made it halfway to the entrance when I was overwhelmed with the kids. An entire year had passed, and it had changed so many of them.

The wet of the grass soaked into my pants as I knelt to allow all the hugs they’d muster. Questions were thrown at me with great speed, and I tried to answer as many as I could. It was so lovely to see them. Tears pricked in my eyes as an ache settled into my chest.

“You bastard!” Joji’s voice cut through the merriment. He stalked out of the house like a man possessed, eyes only for the man he called an enemy. He reached out to grab him only to be met with the tip of a sword.

Ieyasu despised Joji, even though they’d only met briefly in passing, just before Joij was thrown from the castle. If given the opportunity, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill the younger boy.

I herded the young ones inside as Joji’s shouting of profanities and insults to the Lord of our land reached a peak. Ieyasu remained composed but never lowered the sword. This would only end in bloodshed if I didn’t step in. “Joji, that’s enough-”

“I won’t let him take you back. You aren’t leaving us again.” He reached for my arm but retracted his in time to not lose it completely. His eyes narrowed, anger consuming him even more. “Bastard!”

“Rena will return with me, or I’ll kill every last child here.” His voice laced with authority as Ieyasu straightened his back, ready to win this duel.

I couldn’t let this continue. “I said that’s enough, Joji!” I shouted this time, slipping between the two and pushing down Ieyasu’s sword in an ultimately feeble attempt. It only angered both of them further.

The last thing I remember was Joji throwing me to the side and landing on some rocks sticking out of the dirt. My vision blurred and then... nothing.

<< << <<

Sinking down into the scalding water of my bath, I blew bubbles as I exhaled an exhausted breath. I’d gotten quite the earful from the head maid when I’d awoken in my chambers. You shouldn’t burden Lord Ieyasu with your petty problems and Be gracious that Lord Ieyasu treated you and is so merciful. She’d confirmed that he hadn’t followed through with his threat to kill my family, which I was grateful for.

I should go and thank him for today, even though it went horribly sideways.

The door to the room was thrown open and shut with immense force, startling me. Ieyasu had crossed the room and reached into the tub before I’d had a chance to even speak. With a tight grip on my arm, he jerked me up. It was impossible to move as fast as he’d wanted, and I tripped on the edge of the basin and fell onto my ass on the floor.

“Ieyasu-”

“Shut up!” He growled, dropping on top of me, hands gripping my wrists and pinning them beside my head. Emerald irises glimmered with anger as he frowned. “Do you not understand, yet? Do I need to find a more intimate way to make you comprehend that you belong to me?”

Words he hadn’t said in such a long time. Hostage. Captive. Prisoner. He reminded me often that although he’d given me some freedom, I had sold myself to him in order to pay my family’s debt from stealing from the castle.

“I-”

“Don’t. Speak.” He snapped, squeezing his fingers tighter around my wrists as if he would be the shackles himself if he needed to. “Unless I give you permission, you can’t do or have anything. I own you, Rena. And I’ve been far too lenient. My vassals whisper of weakness and bias towards you, and I will not allow that.” His desperate need to gain control of their situation evident in his rambling.

His eyes followed a droplet of water down my neck and through the valley between my breasts. In the year we’d been together, Ieyasu never once considered taking me as a concubine, but I could see his wavering thoughts in the matter. As if that would make him strong in the eyes of his vassals, to conquer me.

But he softened, grip loosening and his head dropped to rest on my bare chest. Velvet blond hair tickling my face. He sighed, silent.

I tugged one hand free without any resistance from him. In my time here, I’d come to learn that he was alone. A powerful warlord surrounded by vassals and servants, but none of them knew him. My fingers laced through his locks briefly until he sat up with a feigned angered expression. “It’s alright.”

Ieyasu tilted his head slightly, perplexed by what I’d said. He’d likely been expecting me to fight, argue, and curse him for saying those things.

“If taking me will make you feel any better, then do it. I understand that today’s incident reflects badly on you, and for that, I’m deeply sorry. If you want to lock me up or reprimand me before your court, I’ll take whatever punishment you see fit without resistance.”

His brows creased. “I don’t understand you at all. You must not comprehend what I could do to you.”

But he was wrong. I did know. He could make me a concubine to the vassals, leave me in the dungeon without food or water, or even execute me. It was all within his power to do so.

I smiled weakly. There was fear. Those prospects would not be painless. I was also embarrassed, completely bare underneath him. It is nothing for him to pin me down and force himself on me, which was also within his power and rights, as I’d vowed to become his in exchange for the freedom of my family.

I also knew that he wouldn’t do those things.

“I won’t go see them again, not until the debt and this one, is paid. My word doesn’t probably mean much, but I’ll promise it, nonetheless. You can do whate-”

He sealed my lips with a heated kiss, pressing his body against mine. His sense seemed to have left him for a brief moment. “One week.” His fingers brushed against my cheek before he climbed to his feet. “One week in the dungeon and I’ll consider forgiving what happened today. If you choose to leave that cell, you’ll be a slave to my vassals. There will be no more chances.”

He’d spoken with such authority; I knew there were soldiers on the other side of the door. It was a declaration to them, not me. He cast one more glance at me, eyes lingering. Perhaps he possessed more than simple desire.

“Yes, my lord.”

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ieyasu tokugawa #ieyasu wife #the ties that bind #chapter 6 #i have a story for them now #guess this means I'll be revisiting clever canary and solitary confinemnt #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #12 days of ocmas

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straight-outta-kaer-morhen · 4 years ago

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Silver & Scars <Chapter 1>

I couldn’t contain my excitement, so I decided to put this up a day early. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Trigger Warnings: Violence against kikimores, and semi-descriptive injuries

Chapter 1: The Kikimore Contract

He'd been in the swamps since dawn. He'd tossed a coin to the ferryman who'd brought him across the water to the swamp that laid on the outskirts of Vizima. The royal guard had put a contract on a Kikimore that was killing townsfolk. The monster was inhabiting a cave that held mushrooms Vizima's citizens liked to collect.

Eskel had found himself trekking through bogs to find the hidden cave the kikimore occupied. He knelt by a fire, busying himself with bombs and potions. There was very little he could do against a queen Kikimore, which he expected was tucked away safely in her cave. Aard would work against the smaller kikimore workers, but the warriors would also be a pain to deal with.

He set to work brewing insectoid oil. He would need a lot of it to take care of the nest. He brewed several batches of swallow, white honey and White Raffard's Decoction. If potions would do little against the Kikimore queen, healing potions may at least keep him alive long enough to drag himself back to the sorceress's doorstep. She could at least patch him up enough to keep him alive.

He shook the thought away. He couldn't afford any distractions right now.

The silver blade slid from its sheath with a soft shwink. He popped the cork of the insectoid oil and generously coated the blade. He didn't know when there would be a break long enough for him to recoat the blade, so he hoped that this would do until then.

He made his way through the swamps, his senses on high alert. There were several corpses he passed that had been picked clean by the kikimores.

His ears picked up the tud da tud da tud of spindly legs on the spongy earth. He was quick to cast quen throwing out a golden orb. The sharp legs of the kikimore warrior shattered the shield. Eskel was quick to roll to the side of the beast. Slashing out his silver blade he heard a monstrous screech, which he knew would cause the workers to join the fight.

Vesemir's voice echoed in his head. Always keep moving. A moving target is harder to hit. He threw out Aard knocking a smaller kikimore to the ground. He was quick to deal the killing blow, and leapt out of the way just in time for the larger kikimore to take another swipe at him.

He could recall Lambert saying heavy attacks were best used on Kikimores, and he was in an open mindset considering the turmoil that was going on around him that he decided to see if there was any truth to the younger Witcher's statement.

The only problem he realized a second too late, was that heavy attacks tend to slow one down. He felt his flesh tear open as a razor sharp leg swiped at him.

His blow landed in the kikimore's throat, and it stilled. He pulled the silver blade from its mouth, quickly casting Aard as he spun. Three more kikimore workers were knocked on their backs, and he was quick to slay them.

He downed some swallow, and with shaking hands he poured more insectoid oil over his blade. He knew the cut would start stinging and aching once the adrenaline wore off. He only hoped that the potion could numb the pain and start the process of healing.

He collected the few monster parts he needed before continuing towards the cave. He knew there would be at least one more warrior patrolling the swamp, and who knew what lied in the cave.

He cast quen once more, in the event he was taken by surprise. He couldn't have cast it soon enough when he felt the pressure on the back of his calf, and his shield shattered once more. He took a few quick swings at the kikimore dispersing it. He threw Aard a couple more times as a few other smaller kikimores attacked.

He was dousing the blade in more insecticide oil when two kikimore warriors crested the hill. He let out an audible "fuck," as they approached.

He rocked to the balls of his feet. Agility was easier when he wasn't caught flat footed. He threw out Quen for good measure, and readied himself for the first strike.

Both kikimore's threw their legs up in an attempt to impale him. He tucked into a quick roll slashing upwards as he came to his feet. He sidestepped to miss the kikimore's back legs and sent a heavy blow crippling it in the back. He was quick to dodge the other kikimore, but one of the many razor sharp shell teeth left a shallow slice across his thigh.

With a few more strokes of his sword both beasts were dead. He inspected the wound as he caught his breath. The blood loss seemed to be minor, and the wound he acquired earlier seemed to be seeping blood. His jacket was ruined with soaked blood. By the looks of it, the cut had bled like a bitch.

He downed white honey to clear out the toxins surging through him. He then threw back some more swallow. He inspected the mouth of the cave as he pulled out the one bottle of brown oil he carried. He hadn't bothered brewing another bottle, because he wouldn't have the time to reapply it once he was in the middle of the fight. He set to work coating his blade once more. He moved his bombs to his chest. It was unlikely they would do much damage, but it may slow the queen down enough for him to get a strike or two in.

He didn't have much of a plan for fighting the beast. All he could do is throw quen signs, try to get an occasional hit in, and run like hell. One swipe from the queen could be lethal even for a mutant like him.

He took a deep breath as he popped the cork of a cat potion. The potion smelt vile, and it would burn going down. He didn't think on it anymore as he downed the contents. He'd learnt the longer he thought of a potion, the harder it always went down.

He felt his vision alter. His eyes fluttered irritated at the sudden change of light. He let his eyes adjust a moment, before stepping into the mouth of the cave.

Eskel's eyes darted around the tunnel. He could make out silhouettes of stalagmites hanging from the walls. Cat was a useful potion, but Eskel hated when the color was drained from the world and the small details taken away. He had to rely heavily on his hearing, and hope the potion lasted through the fight.

The tunnel sloped down into a wide cavern. Eskel could see a massive spindly silhouette tucked in the corner. He couldn't deny it looked more terrifying in the dark then in broad daylight. It was moments like this that he was thankful for the mutations. The healthy dose of fear that should be pumping through his veins was silenced. Instead he felt a primal need to kill.

He cast quen as he slowly approached the kikimore. He decided on a heavy blow while he had the chance. If he could sneak up on the monster and weaken it, perhaps the rest of the fight would turn in his favor.

He drove the silver blade down as deep as he could go. He felt his shield shatter as he was thrown back. He found himself slow to get up when he landed. Half heartedly he chucked a bomb in the direction he assumed the kikimore was in. He heard a screech as he finally got to his feet. He signed quen and took off running. He could hear the tud da tud da tud behind him, as her spindly legs brought her closer to him. He dove to the side bringing his sword up with a swipe landing another blow on it's leg. He felt his shield shatter, and acid spewed on his thigh. "Shit." He cursed stabbing the small kikimore, before slaying its companion. He signed quen again before hucking another bomb at the queen. He hadn't time to drink any white honey as he dove out of the way from a blow from the queen.

The queen was weakening, and his thigh was burning. A heavy blow or two would finish her off. He cut quick to the side, and brought the silver sweeping across her legs. Black blood poured from the missing limbs, and she released a vile spit of acid. Quen absorbed most of the toxin, in the process of it shattering some spewed across his chest. Eskel was quick to deal the finishing blow. He sent silver straight through her armored skull. The kikimore gave a violent shudder and finally laid still.

Acidic fumes from his wounds clouded his vision, leaving him gulping for air as the bile rose up his throat. He found himself vomiting into the sand. Tears were leaking out of his burning eyes as he popped the cork on the square vile. Eskel downed the contents of the white honey feeling some of the pain ease. His tearducts opened as they flushed the acidic fumes from his eyes. He wiped at the tear tracks on his cheeks. His chest and thigh felt like hamburger from the acid eating away at his skin.

Dragging himself to his feet he pulled out a torch to see. The cat potion leaving his system as the white honey did its work. He quickly set to work destroying the eggs.. He limped out of the cave. Twilight was fast approaching, and he was in no state to be caught in the swamps at night.

She awoke to a pounding on her door. Her dog lept up with a yelp at the intruder at the door. It had been days since she'd last seen the dark haired Witcher. She assumed he'd gone on to the next town in search of contracts and coin. Which is why she was startled to find him leaning against her threshold, looking like he was on death's door.

"Witcher!" She gasped instinctively reaching out to the man to steady him. What she wasn't expecting was for the towering man to practically land in her arms. "Oof," she grunted, digging her heels in to support him. "Let's get you up the stairs." She said guiding him up the narrow stairway. His hand tried to find some support against the wall as she hefted him up the stairs. The man was barely conscious.

By the smell of him, he'd been in the swamps all day. The Witcher was fighting fatigue, blood loss and pain. He hadn't given much thought past making it to her doorstep. His body finally gave out as he passed out halfway on the bed. She was careful to pull his boots off as she lifted each leg onto the bed.

His pant leg and flesh had been melted away by the acid. She brought her small hands above the wound concentrating on the incantation she recited. Slowly the acid seemed to disappear, and the skin closed up leaving a few new scars in its wake.

She carefully cut away at his pants. Attempting to persevere his modesty best she could. She couldn't risk any traces of acid transferring from his pants to skin. Besides she mused holding up the shredded pants, there was never a hope of mending them anyways. She tossed them on the fire, and the acidic residue engulfed the pants into flames.

She found another fresh scar, a wound she assumed he acquired earlier in the day. When she went on to inspect his wounds she found some more bubbling skin from the acid that was spewed onto his skin. Stripping him of his jacket and shirt she went to work healing the wound. She threw the jacket in a bin of water, and tossed the shirt in the fire as well. Even the witcher couldn't argue that burning the garments was the safest way to dispose of the acid. She quickly went to work healing the wound and tending to other minor cuts.

The bloodied jacket was calling to her from the wash bin when she finally stepped away from him. She grabbed her laundry soap and set to scrubbing the jacket.

She was surprised to find the jacket had been lined with a soft buckskin colored leather. She could only guess at when the last time the jacket had been washed.

In a life that seemed so long ago she had brothers. Brothers who wouldn't have thought to do their laundry or take the occasional bath had her mother not ordered them to do so. Her smile faltered, that had been long ago. Before her father sold her for a pouch of orens to the Aretuza Academy. They had passed many years ago, but heere she was: still young, beautiful, and alone.

She snapped back to reality as she hung the jacket to dry. The Witcher would be out for the rest of the night, so she took her purse and headed to the local armorer. Feeling a bit of guilt at burning the Witcher's clothes, even if it was unavoidable she would replace them.

A gruff voice could be heard behind the wooden door as she knocked. No doubt she'd roused the poor man from his sleep. "What do you want?" The dwarf inquired gruffly.

"I need pants, and a shirt." She made sure to jingle her purse for good measure. The dwarf seemed to perk up at the sound of coin. He nodded, and in a gruff voice said "come in."

"What kind of pants are you wanting?"

"Something leather, and black. A good fit too." She added.

"It'll take me a moment to fashion something in your size lassie." He began before she shook her head.

"It's for a man. A large man, around six foot." She said thoughtfully. "And I want a white shirt. Something soft, but sturdy."

The dwarf raised his eyebrow, "dressing your lover?" A small chuckle escaped his throat. "Woman have to have their hand in everything."

A blush bloomed on her cheeks, "he isn't a lover."

"Ah, but you're blushing like a maiden." The dwarf said with a shake of his head. "Fret not, your secret is safe with me." He pulled out a shirt and pants. "Have him come back if they don't fit right." She thanked the dwarf before handing over the sum, with a little extra.

•

••

•

Exhaustion finally hit as she sat by Eskel's side. She reached out to grab his hand. His large palm felt warm in her hands. Her eyes felt heavy as she laid her head on the edge of the bed. (E/c) eyes slowly fluttering shut.

Tag List:

@MishaFaye

#eskel x reader #eskel x y/n #eskel fic #eskel the witcher #silver&scars #the witcher

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years ago

Note

magnus is this notorious pirate famous in the caribbean with everyone talking about him because of how successful he is. his quartermaster is definitely raphael (his care for his clan and how he cares for others solidifies this thought process) and their ship has some corny name that raphael pretends to hate but definitely loves. europe thinks that magnus and his crew are demons(racists fucks) meanwhile theyre out here being nerds who enjoys navigating the seas and ruining racists job prospects+

+cat and ragnor live on nassau with magnus bringing back supplies they sell(we love the blackmarket here). the lightwoods are brought into this world bc their parents send them off to nassau to try and expand the family's business and gain profit off of this lawless place which refuses to be governed by anyone. malec meets at like the local inn where maia works at also where izzy meets her and by association The Polycule)and is just attracted to each other right then and there with bad flirting. once they become settled in, alec and izzy becomes like disillusioned with following what their parents expect of them and start to actually do what they wish. because he's dramatic, alec probably asks ragnor who settled down from pirating for more lessons in sword fighting (hes not unexperienced but theres a difference from fighting on land and on water)

eventually magnus hears about this cue them dramatically learning how to fight on like this cliff top with their swords connecting (we love euphemisms for sex) and them bonding over magnus' book collection he has and them no longer doing what their parents expect of them (im imagining asmodeus as this well traveled trader or something who only cares about money rather than having humanity) and even though magnus is this pirate which is a profession that the "civilized world" looks down on, he's like the epitome of actually having morals and caring about people (pirates were known to drastically impact the slave trade as they often freed slaves and let them join their crew or they worked directly with maroons and indigenous people).

i imagine their first kiss to be when theyre training and someone has a sword pressed against the others neck because theyre horny bastards and they accept only the dramatics. their proposal/matelot is potc levels of dramatic with them fighting an enemy crew alongside The Polycule(the most badass and queer crew out there) and like halfway through alec is just like marry me and then next thing they know it raphael is officiating their marriage around dead people before they go on to have a better and more planned out wedding on shore (had to get some of this out now before i went too deep, The Poycule is definitely something i paid attention to most considering how big and complex the group is)

ugh not to add to an already huge post but

you are totally right about raphael being his quartermaster! raphael is a great leader and he cares so much for his people and he is one of the few people magnus obviously trusts, even as they have their differences. only other person i could imagine as magnus' quartermaster would be cat but like! raphael is perfect for the job! also i love the idea that he pretends to hate the corny name, he has to pretend to hate magnus' puns and jokes on principle but really he loves it

also "meanwhile they are all nerds" accurate, the whole ship is just a whole mess of people having fun and being family we love that for them

and ok not to slut for the polycule but i'm slutting for the polycule i just. aaa want to know so much more about them. i know you said they were already with maia but idk i can see many of them being part of magnus' crew? especially meliorn and tbh clary lmao she seems the type who would love adventure like that (i'm going with fanon clary here mostly) and i can see simon in both but i can also definitely see simon being in the inn with maia (god i have a half baked au that includes that) because being in the sea all day? no thank you. and they are just this nice local couple that helps all the pirates because fuck the racist law

also it's hilarious because they are so warm and welcoming and the lightwoods get there and simon is like "oh-oh. incoming" and maia is all like "what the fUCK do you want"

which lowkey backfires because izzy is just like "oh she's so fierce, i love her" and is already like, halfway in love doing the head tilt and huge grin thing (she's not creepy about it, just like, she likes it, you know? especially because in this AU izzy was raised as a Rich Girl so she's expected to be all that fragile useless white woman ideal and yada yada and she's not here for that so she's attracted to the idea of women like clary and maia)

and just like ghhgggghhh not to slut but i love the idea that they are in the inn and meliorn raphael and possibly clary are always in the sea so like! sweet reunions! not that they are usually going super far lmao mostly just stopping the slave trade and protecting the caribbean and shit, but that's a few months in between visits and i picture that at some point when they are getting to nassau raphael is just like, vibrating (you know, as much as he allows himself to) and magnus just smiles knowingly, happy that his boy has found people he's so happy with

and raphael getting into the inn and being like "simon! maia!" and simon and maia being like "raphael! meliorn!" and just crashing into this big group hug and it's all laughs and meliorn twirls maia and she giggles and simon kisses raphael's cheek and is all worried about them both (plus clary) because god what the fuck kind of shit did they get into this time, are they hurt? if he's broken another leg he's gonna- and raphael laughs and says "no, cariño, i promise all i have with me are gifts" because he's not gonna travel the caribbean and not bring stuff for his partners. so it's him and meliorn showering maia and simon in gifts and pretty and maybe stolen things (maia in particular takes such great joy in learning that her pretty new bracelet belonged to some racist bitch) like spoils you know? lmao, and looking at them it's like they haven't seen each other in years or something but no it's been like a month and it's always like that

and alec and izzy are just watching that, mouths slack, shocked, but highkey yearning for something as free as that, that loving family and that open love and meliorn's genderfuckery and just everything about them! and alec "conceal don't feel" lightwood is kind of frowning and goes "are they always like that?" to which magnus, behind him, answers "yes" and then he turns around and they stare at each other and magnus quickly goes from "happy for my boys" to "hello tall person" in a matter of seconds and is suddenly all seductive and flirty and alec is having the time of his life? especially since here away from the lightwoods he can allow himself just a little bit, and letting a guy flirt with him can't hurt, right? he knows izzy won't tell their parents. so he engages

cue terribly bad flirting, izzy smiling widely as she watches the polycule dynamics, highkey wanting something like that for herself, especially seeing the way that clary talks to maia all like "look at this SWORD" and all the adventures. and maia still doesn't trust her but apparently magnus has already hit it off with her brother so what the hell, they might as well stay

and just!! yes getting to know each other shenanigans. i picture that like the army gets there and tries to get magnus and his crew and alec and izzy are like running to them to warn them (alec not knowing quite why, he shouldn't be taking that big of a risk, he shouldn't be getting attached to a pirate - of whom he's only heard terrible things so far, thinks they are Evil basically - just because something about him is alluring and represents the freedom he doesn't allow himself to want, but... he is getting attached) and the whole gang is all like *very calmly heading to the secret hideout in their room* oh don't worry about that lmao they do this every week

and idk i just want a moment where they are almost found and alec and izzy lowkey save their ass (i mean they would have managed but they make it easier, maybe use the Privilege Card lmao). maybe the guards were closer than they thought so alec ends up just shoving magnus into the hideout and when the guards come in he's all like "WHO is interrupting our sleep" and acts like an entitled brat and they don't even search the room lmao and then alec runs to the hideout all "sorry that i pushed you, are you okay?" and magnus is all like "i'm fine" but a little touched about the care. just to establish that trust, you know? both between them and between izzy and the rest of the polycule

so after that it all kind of flows smoothly because they know they can genuinely trust the lightwoods and so it grows into something more. magnus and alec can bond over having Terrible Parents With Terrible Morals and they open up about their respective traumas with abuse, and alec confesses to magnus for the first time ever that he doesn't want to be like his parents, that he thought if maybe he earned their respect, he could change things from the inside. and magnus looks at him all soft and touched and is like "there's no changing things from the inside" and alec is like "i'm starting to realize that" you know

and yeah alec gets to see how much that crew cares for each other, way more than his "traditional family" ever could (except for him and izzy who are just as devoted to each other as the crew is, but like, it's honestly less the "blood relations" and more how they've always been there for each other as they handled their parents' shittiness) and again he's just yearning because he always believed he wouldn't get something like that. and magnus in particular is just so caring and just wants to make the world a better place, you know? and he admires that and they bond over that, too

and just jdhdaodshad god i love this. and meanwhile izzy is flirting with maia clary and meliorn like crazy and soon they are like this huge messy group with all those dynamics... and i just aaa and alec and izzy end up joining the crew and daiodsaiodjsaio RAPHAEL OFFICIATING THEIR WEDDING i'm genuinely all for that fucking shit, magnus wants his boy to do it for them and aaaaa! also i DEMAND raphael&meliorn fighting sequences because i bet they would make a bomb ass duo fighting back to back and shit, you know? bonus points if they are defending simon and maia who are behind them and just making sure no one touches them?? i live for this shit

in short i love this and you said “get some out of your chest" so if there's more, then fuck, i can't wait to see it dahsdaijas i'm sorry for talking so much i get too excited

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #izzy lightwood #raphael santiago #maia roberts #simon lewis #clary fray #meliorn #The Polycule™#saiaphaeliorn #claiabelle #shadowhunters #sh #au idea #pirate au

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detectivecarlosreyes · 4 years ago

Text

Academy Together, Friends Forever 9/10

Also on Ao3

(Beginning) (Prev Chapter) (Next Chapter)

TK, Buck and Carlos have an evening together before everything comes to a head with Buck, who has reached his breaking point. His secret comes out, and so does Owen’s. (This chapter gets pretty sad and angsty pretty quickly in the form of one very bad nightmare)

The tension that Buck had been sensing from Carlos since he picked them up had dissolved after they cleared up their misunderstanding and now he was finally getting to know who Carlos really was. Immediately, Buck liked his personality; he was charming, funny, and genuine. Basically, the complete opposite of TK’s ex Alex.

He couldn’t help but be pleased by that fact, because in the years that he’s known TK, Buck is pretty sure he’s never seen him as happy and comfortable than when he’s around Carlos, even if TK doesn’t realise it himself.

Halfway through the movie, Buck had briefly glanced over at TK and Carlos and caught sight of their hands joined together resting on TK’s leg with their fingers intertwined. And then by the end of it, Carlos had his head on TK’s shoulder. Really, he couldn’t help but smile at the cuteness of it all.

The hand holding continued even after the movie had ended and they started walking the streets to find a relatively quiet place to have dinner. As they slowly traversed the streets, Buck learned that Carlos was a cop, which he found made so much sense.

They eventually stopped at a small Italian restaurant and found themselves a table in a corner near the window. Almost as soon as they take a seat, TK, clearly thinking about romance because of the movie and his relationship with Carlos, gives Buck a sly smile which immediately puts him on guard, “Sooo, how’re things with Eddie?”

Buck could feel a blush warming his cheeks and he brings the menu up to conceal his face, feigning nonchalance, “Eddie is fine.”

“Who’s Eddie?” Carlos asks, looking between them, confused.

“Oh, just someone that Buck works with, who he can never seem to shut up about, or his son for that matter.” Replies TK teasingly.

“I don’t know what you're talking about, Eddie and I are just friends.”

Oh come on dude, you’ve been on the phone with him every day since you’ve been here from what I’ve seen and from what dad tells me. You can’t tell me there’s nothing going on.” Buck shoots him a look but before he can respond, a waiter appears beside their table asking them if they were ready to order.

Buck looks up quickly and seizes the opportunity to change the subject by announcing that, yes, they were ready to order. He deliberates, before deciding on a salad which earns him an intensely concerned look from TK. Carlos, bless him, was not one for making things awkward when he noticed the exchange and ordered himself a seafood dish before ordering a carbonara for TK.

In no time the waiter was gone and with the teasing now forgotten TK changes the subject, wanting answers. “Dude, you okay? You’ve barely eaten at all today; only a couple pancakes for breakfast and then you missed lunch cause you were in the hospital and you barely had any popcorn at the movies either.”

TK wasn’t wrong. He had barely eaten anything today.

Honestly, he hasn’t really had a true appetite for quite some time. Not since the tsunami really. And it's not from the lack of trying, he does eat, mostly out of obligation more than anything because he knows that he can’t not eat in his line of work. But the thing was that he just wasn’t hungry, and he’s acutely aware that it’s because of the nightmares that plague his dreams and leave him nauseous when he wakes.

Looking between TK and Carlos before settling back on TK, he shrugs not wanting to elaborate on those thoughts in this moment, deciding instead on an equally plausible and simpler answer.

“I’m okay,” liar “I’m just not feeling 100% from the cuts and the smoke inhalation, but I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure…” TK says hesitantly while looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“I’m positive, don’t worry about it.” TK gives him another long, considering look before deciding to trust him and drops the matter.

Carlos, who Buck is liking more and more as he has gotten to know him, breaks the awkward silence with a change in conversation and tells a story from his first day on the force. After that, with the concern now forgotten, everything became light-hearted once again and soon enough their food had made its way to their table and into their stomachs.

Sure enough, the roiling in Buck’s stomach settled somewhat with dinner, but as he said to TK, he wasn’t feeling all that great especially with the amount of blood he lost. Really, he felt as if he’d just donated blood that day, except in this case it was much more pronounced.

His energy levels were flagging by they had all finished eating, so when he excused himself for a moment to use the bathroom, Buck also stops by the counter to pay the bill while also adding a couple of desserts to be sent out for TK and Carlos to enjoy. Upon returning, he leaned on his chair rather than sitting back down knowing it would take too much energy to get back up again, and announces that he was headed home for the night but that the two lovebirds should stay and have their dessert.

He couldn’t help but grin just a little bit at their confusion about the dessert before saying he’s already ordered something for them. He then ruffles TK’s hair and shakes Carlos’ hand before leaving. “I doubt I’ll see you again before I leave tomorrow but it was really great meeting you, Carlos.” He gives him a look, “Just don’t go breaking my boy’s heart.”

Carlos gives him an earnest smile in return. “Likewise, and don’t you worry, I’m not planning on it.”

Buck gives them both a nod and a wave before heading out the door and waits for the Uber he ordered. The car pulls up promptly and in no time at all, it was pulling up at the Strand house.

Thanking the driver, he yawns widely as he makes his way inside and quickly gets ready for bed before turning off the light and making himself comfortable under the covers. Feeling so exhausted from the day, he hopes that maybe for once it will be a dreamless sleep as he instantly feels the pull of sleep dragging him down into nothingness.

** ** **

Of course, it was never going to be a dreamless sleep, especially after the day he’s had.

Buck dreams of the tsunami. Lately, that’s all he’s been dreaming of. Of being tossed and spun around in the water, unable to tell which way was up. Like always, it feels like an eternity before he’s able to breach the surface, finally able to take in that breath that his lungs had been screaming for. Immediately his first thought is to find Christopher and he starts paddling to where he’s found him every other time only to find him missing. This is new. He calls out for him, swimming in a circle before he spots the fire engine and strikes out towards it only to find it empty as well.

Feeling despair welling up, he lets the wave drag him with it as the water recedes and finds himself being tossed back underwater before the it swells again and washes him up onto the footpath of a vaguely familiar street. Feeling the pavement scrape at his already raw skin, he drags himself up onto his hands and knees, panting, and looks ahead. It’s that house. The one from before with the father and son. Except this time, he can hear Christopher now. Coming from that house.

Picking himself up he gets to his feet only to immediately topple over. Looking down, Buck starts to hyperventilate, his leg from the knee down is gone. Missing. Amputated. Nonononono this can’t be happening, this has never happened like this. But before he has the chance to properly panic, Christopher’s voice breaks through to him, spurring him forward. He has to save him. He can’t let him down again.

Getting back onto his one foot, Buck starts hopping towards the house, and as he gets closer he can see Eddie being held back by Carlos, straining to break free to save his son. He hops once more towards the house only to nearly fall over in pain, feeling a lancing pain across his midsection. Looking down he can see blood seeping through his shirt.

With each hop, comes a new cut and by the time he makes it anywhere near the house he’s dizzy with blood loss and comes crashing down to his knees, too weak to be able to stand, screaming Christopher’s name. At some point Eddie’s voice cuts through his own, pleading for him to save his son. That it’s his fault. That he failed him. That he failed Christopher.

Rolling onto his back, all Buck can do is look up at the sky and heave in panicked breath after panicked breath, listening to Eddie telling what he’s always thought and ends up repeating Christopher’s name over and over again between breaths until another, different voice breaks through the haze. A warm, firm touch against his face from an unseen force, startles him awake and he tearfully comes face to face with Owen peering down at him in concern, ashen face full of worry.

He can’t catch a breath, fighting against Owen's hold and looking around for Christopher and calling his name. Vaguely, through his panic, he can hear Owen talking to someone before a phone is being pressed up against his ear.

“Buck? What’s happening.”

“Eddie.” He manages to gasp out. “Tell me again.”

“You saved Christopher. He’s safely sleeping in his bed. What happened was not your fault, you couldn't have know a natural disaster would happen.” Eddie says calm and evenly, repeating a well-rehearsed set of sentences that they learned calmed him best.

Hearing the words was like a balm to his panicked heart and he leans forward bonelessly against Owen who was still sitting on the edge of his bed. Letting his breath slow, he looks down at his arm and sees the bandages, reminding him of the cuts in his dream and leading him to remember his leg. He takes in a sharp breath as he reaches down to feel the part of his leg that was missing and sighs, reassured to find it where it should be.

“Buck? You still there?”

“Yeah,” he replies softly, “I’m still here.”

“Are you good? Did you need me to…?” The question goes unasked, but Buck knew what he was offering.

“No that’s okay Eddie I don’t think I need to see him tonight. You go back to sleep.”

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks Eds, see you.”

“Anytime Buck.” And then he was gone, leaving Buck to bring his attention back to Owen who was watching him carefully.

He waits for him to say something, ask him what all that was, but Owen doesn’t, instead, he shifts closer and opens his arms. And that’s all it takes to turn him into a sobbing mess, falling against his warm chest and buries his face into Owen’s shoulder. Through heaving breaths, he can hear Owen murmuring into his hair as he holds him tight and that’s when all his resolve goes out the window and he tells him everything.

“I lost him…. I lost Christopher, Eddie’s son in the tsunami. I had him and then he was gone. I looked everywhere for him, found his glasses but I couldn’t find him. And that’s all I dream about. It used to be the bombing or losing Maddie but ever since the tsunami, all I dream about is losing him over and over again. Every time I close my eyes, I’m back there, reliving that moment.” He pulls back from Owen’s embrace and wipes at his eyes.

“Tonight’s one was so much worse. The house fire from earlier, the kid, he reminded me so much of Chris. This time I couldn’t find him anywhere like I normally did and then I’m back at that house and Chris is calling for me and Eddie was there yelling at me to save him and I couldn’t do anything because my leg had been amputated and I got all these cuts all over my body. Owen, it was horrible.”

Owen pulls him back into a bracing hug, and Buck can’t help but fist his hands into the back of his shirt while pressing his face into his neck. Only then does Owen begin to speak.

“Eddie knows about the nightmares?”

Buck nods into his shirt before mumbling, “Only because I called him so many times after some really bad ones in a panic asking for Chris. He doesn’t know how often or what they’re about, but he’s got an idea.”

“This is why you barely sleep, isn’t it? You have nightmares every night.” Buck doesn’t say anything to that, instead nodding once again into Owen’s shoulder.

Owen sighs and pulls away, taking Buck's face into his hands. “I presume you haven’t told anyone else about this either.” Buck can’t bring himself to meet Owen’s gaze, confirming what the man already guessed. “Just promise me you’ll consider talking to someone about all of it. I hate seeing you like this. I just want you to be happy.”

Not one to be able to reject such a sincere request from someone he loves, Buck meets his gaze with a small nod, “Yeah, okay. When I get home, I’ll go see someone. I promise.”

Owen thumbs away a stray tear from his cheek and gives him a gentle smile, “That’s all I could ever wish for.”

Now that he’s had the time to calm down, Buck refocuses on Owen, taking in his haggard and pale appearance. Grasping Owen’s wrist and bringing his hand down into both of his, Buck finally voices his concerns.

“Owen, what’s been going on with you? I know something has been up with you since we had that talk in the car.” Buck gestures to his appearance, “Frankly, you look awful. Like you’ve been sick.”

Owen leans back and looks away, passing his free hand over his face as he does so. “That’s because I was throwing up in the bathroom before I heard you having a nightmare.”

“Owen, wh—”

“Buck, there’s no easy way of telling you this… but I’ve got lung cancer. I’ve known for a while, since we left New York actually. The chemo I’ve been getting has been making me feel nauseous lately, hence the throwing up.”

Buck sits there dumbfounded by the news but finds that he’s not as surprised by it as he thought he would be, mostly because he’d done a whole lot of research on 9/11 and its survivors some years back. Really, all he needed to know was two things.

“Does TK know?”

Owen rubs the back of his neck and looks away in discomfort, “Yeah, I told him a month or so ago now.”

Buck firmly takes Owen’s wrist in his hand and moves his head to catch Owen’s eye, “And you? How are you holding up?”

Owen huffs at his insistence but doesn’t complain, “The treatment is rough, but the doctor I’m seeing is hopeful and so am I.”

Buck nods, satisfied with the answer, and lightly claps his hand against Owen’s shoulder, holding it there, “We’re going to be alright.” It’s a statement, hopeful for what the future brings.

Owen gently pats Buck’s cheek fondly. “Yeah, we will be kid.”

And with that, he gets up with a groan, presses a kiss to Buck’s forehead, and heads out before pausing at the door, “Try to get some sleep.” He says over his shoulder before quietly shutting the door as he leaves.

Tag list: @judsonryder @bisexualbuck @buckleyevan @seaofashes @justsmilestuffhappens @diazbuckleysworld @diazsbuckley @confessions-of-a-shipperholic @spell-of-the-rain @novemberhush @black-forest-girl @bluebelle88 @adamngoodbuck @overtimeme @captain--sif @rachbabe007

#jess writes #my fic #long post #a huge thankyou to kourt for keeping me going with this #couldn’t have done it without you #911 #9-1-1 #9-1-1 lone star #9-1-1 x 9-1-1 lone star #evan buck buckley #tk strand #carlos reyes #owen strand #Eddie Diaz #tsunami #nightmares #stiilesstilinski

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monsterywriting · 5 years ago

Text

Zombie Boyfriend Adam

Read the original parts here and here

AN: I can hardly believe it’s almost been a whole year since i started this blog (though i haven’t been as consistent as i had wanted/was planning to be).

I started this blog off with Adam, so i wanted to end this year with a rewrite of my very first story i posted. Hopefully there has been an improvement in my writing as well lol.

word count: 7.6k

Living alone in the middle of nowhere had many perks, all of which you could appreciate fully as a hermit who enjoyed immensely the understated solitude of nature, a cabin in the mountainside during the off season.

Nearly three months had flew by since you first agreed to fix up your grandmother’s old lakeside cabin and you had yet to tire of the place, even more so once the last of the other cabin owners and late season renters left and the snowy season began.

The cabin had been vacant for half a year, your parents finally succeeding in convincing your grandmother to move back to the valley below. She was getting older, and her eyesight had been going over the years, so her spending winters alone up here hadn’t been feasible any longer.

So you were now tasked with getting the place ready to be rented out by next summer, and you had your work cut out for you. The most pressing structural wrk that needed to be done had been completed over the summer, making the place livable for you to move in during the fall. Your work over the winter consisted mostly of sorting through everything that had been left in the house and keeping the place dust-free until spring. Once the snow thawed you would finally be able to complete the more cosmetic changes; fresh coats of pain, new furnishings and the like.

Your grandmother’s cabin sat alone on a hill overlooking the frozen lake, the first cabin built at the site. Other cabins dotted the shore in small clusters, the nearest one halfway around the lake. The clearing was surrounded by great pines, the only break in the tree line to the right of your cabin, the space the road carved from the final cabin all the way down to town and which was currently buried underneath several feet of snow.

You were currently pushing a large wardrobe down the hill towards the road. It had been in one of the three upstairs bedrooms, the one that you had spent your summers staying in. You had hoped to salvage some of the old wooden furniture, but a bad roof leak had left almost all of it water damaged.

It was still a shock to you to see the second home you remembered so dilapidated, the only evidence that they were one in the same the personal touches you and your siblings had left over the years—a sticker here placed by your brother, a knick there from your sister trying knife throwing. Now, it would remain on the side of the road for easier loading to take to the dump once the snow melted.

You struggled to maneuver the bulky wardrobe down safely, at first worrying that it would slide uncontrollably all the way down the hill and then as the ground grew uneven that it would topple over when the legs kept getting caught. Just as the wardrobe got stuck for the umpteenth time, you suddenly had the sensation of being watched.

The hair on the back of the your neck stood on end as you spun around, scanning the tree line where you thought you felt the stare come from. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done if you’d actually caught something looking back, but whatever it was had been at it for days now. At first, you just assumed it was some wild animal hoping to find some food, but it had been so consistent and long now that you were no longer sure what to make of it.

Deciding it best not to linger outside for too long, you shuddered and turned back to the wardrobe, giving it a particularly hard shove in your rush to dislodge it and get back inside. However, instead of moving again, the entire wardrobe tipped over, making you lose balance as well.

The wardrobe fortunately stayed where it landed once it crashed into the floor, but you weren’t so lucky as you immediately started rolling the moment you hit the ground. You flailed wildly in an attempt to find some sort of purchase to stop yourself before finally landing unceremoniously on the hard frozen gravel next to the road. Wheezing slightly, you picked yourself up off the ground, horrified to find both your palms scraped and bloody. Your temple was throbbing in pain, and you felt a warm wet roll down the side of your face.

Stooping down, you felt around the ground for your glasses, squinting to try and focus your vision enough to look for them. You finally found them on the road, cracks completely covering both lenses and one completely falling apart when you lifted them.

You groaned, this the only pair you had with you and unable to drive down to town for at least another month, meaning you were effectively blind until then. The snow didn’t help, either, you couldn’t even rely on colorful smears to tell you what you were looking at.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” Someone called out to you from down the road.

You turned like a deer caught between fast approaching headlights, well aware of the fact that there shouldn’t be anyone this high up on the mountain besides you right now. Even with your terrible vision, you could tell whoever it was towered over you, impossible for you to even think about fighting them off—or running as he reached you. You couldn’t even begin to make out the details of his appearance underneath the layers of winter clothes and black shades he wore, only able to tell that he had long black hair, making him appear paler than he already was.

The stranger bent down to get a closer look. At least, you assumed that was what he was doing since you couldn’t tell what his eyes were doing underneath the sunglasses.

“Your forehead is bleeding pretty bad, but I don’t think you’ll need stitches. Looks like it’s just a scrape,” the stranger murmured to himself while holding your head in place and pushing your hair out of the way.

“Sorry, but who exactly are you?” You lifted your arm to press the sleeve of your jacket to the cut on your forehead and squinted up at him, getting on your tiptoes trying to get a better look, “I didn’t think anyone else would be staying here during the winter- and I don’t remember you from this summer…”

You definitely would’ve noticed such a giant guy walking around, a thought reinforced as you gripped his forearm.

The stranger seemed to grow nervous under your scrutiny, craning his head back before you could make out the details of his face. Considering he relaxed as soon as you got back down, however, you assumed the reaction was a matter of personal space rather than making sure you couldn’t give a good description of him to the authorities—not that they would ever make it.

“I bought that cabin at the end a few years ago; I only come up here during the winter,” he answered once you backed off, pointing across the lake to the specific cabin. You turned to look, though you couldn’t tell the difference without your glasses, “Did something happen to the old woman living here? She was always so nice…”

“Oh, gosh, no my grandma’s fine,” you reassured your apparent neighbor quickly, relaxing slightly with the knowledge that he knew her, “she just moved back to town. She’s still healthy as a horse. Y’know, besides her eyes.”

“Oh,” he paused before adding tentatively, “are you… blind, too?”

“No!” You burst out with a snort, nearly laughing as you held up your destroyed glasses, “they broke in the fall…”

He grimaced at the sight before noticing the scrape was still bleeding when you lowered your arm, turning all business as he ushered you back up the hill towards the cabin.

“You need to get that cleaned and bandaged. Do you have a first aid kit inside?” He asked, all but sitting you down on the steps leading up to the porch like a mother hen.

“Uh- there’s rubbing alcohol in the bathroom, and I don’t think I bought any bandaids…” you said after racking your mind, realizing you never even considered what you would do if you got injured out here, in the middle of nowhere with no way for any ambulance to arrive to help you—though fortunately for you your surprise guest seemed well equipped for situations such as these.

“It’s fine, just keep putting pressure on it while I run and grab mine,” he ordered, leaving you to watch his blurry form become a blob before disappearing completely in the white of the snow. You were puzzled by the man, helpful and nice enough in his own right, if not a bit odd—your neighbor but also a complete stranger.

Rather than wait in the cold, you went into the kitchen and ripped off a bunch of paper towels and pressed them to your forehead. You also dug around a few drawers in search of glasses of any kind, managing to find some cheaters but only succeeding in giving yourself a headache when you tried them on.

With your only back up plan a resounding failure, you went back to the porch to await the man’s return—and making a mental note to ask him for his name. You grew bored as you waited, your mind coming to the conclusion that he was probably hot, despite not being able to get a good look at his face. But then you began to dwell on the fact that he had definitely seen you eat dirt with your fall—possibly even from the initial trip. By the time you finally noticed him jogging back up to you with a small bag in hand, the embarrassment gnawing at you was almost unbearable.

He didn’t seem to notice your inner turmoil, focused on unzipping the bag and taking out everything he needed before shrugging off his jacket and setting to work. Neither of you spoke as he cleaned your scrapes with wet wipes, even taking the time to clean the blood that dripped down your face before dabbing antiseptic on the scrape.

You tried not to break his focus by fidgeting around, and bit your tongue to keep the million questions darting around your mind from bursting forth. Instead, you focused on taking advantage of your close proximity to try and get a better idea of his appearance. He still kept you at arm’s length, but it also happened to be the only part of him close enough for you to see in detail.

Scars ran up the length of his arm, both gashes and apparent burns all long since healed. Your curiosity was piqued by the countless number that seemed to cover his arms, looking up until they disappeared under the hem of his shirt—and you suspected they continued underneath. Still, you didn’t want to be nosy after only just meeting him.

Eventually, your vision began to adjust slightly to seeing without the aid of your glasses, though your head was still throbbing from the shift, but you could just make out fairly large scars running up his neck and on his face—the size of which clearly would have been gaping wounds.

You finally broke the silence by offering your name as he placed the final bandage on your palm, jumping as if he’d forgotten you were even there.

“I’m Adam,” he replied once he composed himself, quickly turning from you to put everything back into the bag. It was now evident to you that he was trying to hide his appearance from you.

“Well, Adam,” you said as seriously as you could, the man in question fidgeting as he waited for you to finish, “I ought to repay you for saving my life. How about I feed you for your trouble?”

You felt triumphant seeing the faintest hint of a chuckle escape Adam, even as he stammered out assurances that it was all right and really, you shouldn’t waste rations, you were not to be dissuaded, placing a hand on his arm to stop him and pretending not to notice the way he stiffened when you brushed against the raised skin of his scars.

“Come on, I’ve got enough canned food to last me years,” you said gently, letting go of Adam’s hand to still give him the chance to walk away, “It’s not every day you find out you have a neighbor by falling flat on your face. Besides, I keep deer sausage in the freezer for special occasions. I think this fits the bill.”

After a moment’s hesitation after listening to your short spiel, Adam bobbed his head in acquiescence and you immediately bounced to your feet, leading the way inside. Both of you cracked up when Adam was forced to duck down to fit in the doorframe and awkwardly sat on your grandma’s tiny old lady couch.

“Sorry for the mess; I’m clearing out the rooms so it’s kind of a catch-all in here,” you called from the kitchen, remembering too late that trash bags and old furniture filled the living room.

“It’s fine,” Adam replied, suddenly appearing in the kitchen entrance, making you jump before letting out a sharp bark of laughter, “Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you, just thought it’d be awkward talking from across the cabin… and I wanted to come help.”

“You’ve helped more than enough; you can just sit at the table,” you insisted, more excited than you thought you’d be for the company, “So, how did you meet my grandma?”

“She’s usually the only other person up here during the winters,” Adam answered, ignoring your command and walking to the sink to start cleaning your dishes. You were embarrassed to admit you let them pile up since you were alone, mortified that Adam was learning all your deep, dark secrets very quickly, “She always insisted on giving me something to drink whenever she saw me jogging. Also food. I still don’t know how she did it. Just wait out there with it until she heard me passing by? Is it the same deer sausage she used to make?”

“Yeah, it is,” you answered, chuckling at the mental image of your grandma being able to somehow sense a young person in need of nourishment in the vicinity despite being half blind. It was very on brand for her.

You fell into easy conversation with Adam as you boiled water to thaw the sausages faster, telling him about the plans for the cabin, but also trying to learn more about him as well, enjoying coaxing the shy giant out of his shell.

Adam told you that he was an editor, mostly working via email, which explained why he could stay up in the mountain all winter. Despite seeming to talk more freely with you as time went on, you were careful to steer clear of the subject of his scars, as he hadn’t brought the subject up himself. However, you did eventually figure out that it had been Adam who was stalking you for the past week whenever you were outside.

“I wasn’t stalking you,” Adam protested, the two of you sitting on the couch with your plates of food, your table completely covered with boxes, “I was just worried something bad really did happen to your grandma. And the window to approach you without it being awkward had already passed… I didn’t want to freak you out and be trapped alone together for months.”

“Oh come on, how am I supposed to be scared of a guy who’s best friends with my grandma?” You laughed, sensing that Adam was referring to his physical appearance more than anything, and the fact that seeing a stranger injured overpowered his own self-consciousness about his appearance endeared him to you already.

The more you learned about Adam, the more you wanted to know, to ask him about himself. However, he seemed to clam up whenever the conversation broached the subject of his past, so you decided it best to let it go until whenever Adam felt comfortable telling you.

So, you contented yourself to find out just how much you had in common, even learning that Adam had been the editor for some of your favorite novels of recent years. You also learned that Adam aspired to write a novel of his own someday, something he worked on out here specifically. The conversation didn’t end until long after your plates were empty and the sun slunk below the trees.

“You can’t go out in that,” you fretted as Adam put his outer layers back on, “You can get lost! Or fall in the lake!”

“I’ll be fine,” Adam insisted, the most certain you’d seen him all night, “It isn’t completely dark and I’ve got 20/20 vision.”

You were skeptical to say the least, well aware that it was all too easy to get turned around in the darkness and especially with the blanket of snow covering pretty much every discernible path. But Adam insisted that he’d be fine, so you gave in quickly so he wouldn’t lose any more light, though not before forcing him to take one of your flashlights just in case.

“I’ll come back to help you tomorrow. Don’t want you to have any more accidents,” Adam called over his shoulder, waving to you before disappearing out of reach of your porch light and limited field of view.

Just as Adam promised, he came the very next day to help you clear out the rest of the furniture from the second floor, adamant he did the heavy lifting himself—but this time you brought the sledgehammer from your grandmother’s shed to break the furniture into more manageable pieces before bringing it down the stairs.

With no one else around for miles, Adam soon became a daily presence in your life, though he never seemed to allow himself get too close to you, constantly holding himself back. But despite whatever issues drove him to seek the seclusion of the mountain, it was clear he still craved human interaction, evidenced by the fact that he was always around.

You eventually video called your grandmother so Adam could speak to her, both ecstatic to talk again after so long. She even gave him her number, insisting he come down to visit her for a ‘real meal’. It was the closest you’d been to Adam since you met, both of you crowding together to fit on your phone screen.

You also managed to call the optometrist in town to have new glasses made before your prescription expired, so you only had to drive down to pick them up once the roads cleared.

There had already been very little work you could do over the winter months, and you finished much more quickly with Adam’s help. Within a few short weeks there was nothing left to do and still had at least a month until the snow melted.

Even with the work finished, Adam still came over just as often, enjoying the company of the other in your isolation. You had a feeling that Adam needed the companionship more than he let on, if the way he opened up to you so quickly in spite of his own insecurities was any indication, and you had to admit you enjoyed his company as well. Perhaps more than was simple friendship.

Like now, Adam read out loud one of the old books you’d found while you sat next to him and listened. A sudden snow flurry forced Adam to stay the night, and while neither one of you were tired when he’d begun reading earlier, his voice was so soft and soothing you could feel yourself being lulled to sleep.

You were out cold by the time your head fell onto Adam’s shoulder, completely unaware of how you curled instinctually into his side. You also missed how he stiffened at the contact, torn between wanting to maintain his distance and not wanting to wake you, sitting completely still for hours until you shifted away from him in your sleep enough that he could extract himself.

When you stretched awake the next morning, you were covered with your thickest comforter and the smell of breakfast filled the cabin. You shuffled into bathroom to go through your morning routine before going to the kitchen, wide awake once you saw Adam at the stove.

“Pancakes? You’ve been holding out on me, Adam.” Your sudden entrance made him jump and nearly drop the spatula in the batter before he caught himself, “I’m ready to get down on my knee and beg you to marry me right now.”

“Ran to my house to get food once the snow stopped,” Adam said, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully and refusing to meet your eye, “Just thought I’d be the one to cook for once.”

You beamed at his thoughtfulness, dragging him away from the stove so the two of you could eat together. Your grandmother definitely rubbed off on him, considering he made enough pancakes to feed an army and still insisted on making more. You praised Adam’s cooking knowing the compliments flustered him, but while you teased him to see the reaction you garnered, the compliments were genuine.

In the blink of an eye, the worst of the snowfall was over and the weather warmed rapidly, the road soon completely cleared for driving. As soon as you could, you set up an appointment to pick up your glasses.

Your excitement was swiftly struck down, however, when you told Adam you would be going to town soon, jokingly telling him that you would finally get a good look at him in just a few days. He had suddenly gone quiet while you went on talking before suddenly announcing that he wasn’t feeling well and leaving abruptly.

Adam began to distance himself, claiming he could no longer come over for a while, having been sent a new manuscript to work on.

At first, you didn’t realize anything was amiss, taking at face value Adam’s explanation that he had to focus on work. You initially suspected something was wrong when he grew evasive even over text. Your suspicions were confirmed once the day arrived for you to drive into town and he wouldn’t even come see you off.

Still, you set out and put your worries aside, stopping by the optometrist’s office and then going to lunch with your parents. You ended the day at the hardware store, stocking up on paint supples and different samples to test out before beginning the long drive back up the mountain, this time determined to find out exactly what was going on with Adam.

You knocked on Adam’s door for several minutes before letting yourself in with the spare key, your multiple calls going unanswered. You were struck immediately at the pristine modern design inside, your first time actually inside Adam’s home as you couldn’t make the trek around the lake without your glasses. The place was only sparsely furnished, and there wasn’t a single personal effect in sight.

You had long since accepted your feelings for Adam, cemented in your mind after your time away that it wasn’t simply the isolation and proximity of being alone together for so long. While you had no intention of aggressively pursuing the timid Adam, you were determined to at least tell him how you felt. You suspected he felt the same, and that those feelings were the reason for his abrupt disappearance, constantly restraining and withholding happiness from himself. No matter how much progress you felt you made with him, there was always a barrier he kept up around you that you couldn’t break through.

Hanging your jacket by the door and leaving your shoes at the edge of the foyer, you walked around the staircase deeper into the first floor. You still couldn’t believe he had the nerve to describe the home as a ‘cabin’ to you. You walked in a circle into the living room, through the kitchen into the dining room before finally ending up back at the front door. Just as you were about to walk back to the stairs to try the second floor, Adam’s shocked voice choking out your name stopped you in your tracks. He sounded terrified, which in turn terrified you.

“What the hell, Adam?” You tried to make yourself laugh, but the resulting noise came out too forced, “Come on, I finally got my new glasses—”

“Wait!” Adam’s raised voice made you stop in your tracks once again, now certain his voice was coming from the top of the stairs, only the corner of the wall in your way. Still, you ignored your urge to make the final step.

“I don’t want to see you! I mean—” Adam fumbled his words and you waited patiently as he deciphered what he wanted to say, “There’s something I need to tell you. About me. But I don’t really know how you’re going to take it. And I’ve been thinking about how to say this but now you’re actually here and - I’m just blanking on everything I had planned…”

“If this is about your scars, then I know,” you interjected in Adam’s increasingly panicked ramblings in an attempt to calm him down, or at least to save him from flailing around the subject.

Adam fell silent immediately, which you took as a sign to continue talking, “I’m nearsighted, not blind, Adam. I obviously saw them when we met. I just figured you’d tell tell me about them when you were ready to. Now can you please get down here so I don’t have to keep talking to a wall?”

Before I come around this corner myself. You held that final thought back, no matter how badly you wanted to say it. You wanted Adam to be the one to make the decision, not pressuring him to reveal things he wasn’t ready to share of his own accord.

After a few brief moments, and a few creaks of the stairs later, Adam’s voice sounded closer than ever, though still just as hesitant, “the scars… they’re related but not exactly what I was going to say- it’s just not easy to explain—”

That was all you needed to hear, taking the final stride necessary to round the corner and stopping at the foot of the stairs, effectively scaring the daylights out of Adam, sitting on the steps, with you sudden appearance. Despite his shock, he remained still, though clearly uncomfortable to be so openly stared at.

In the comfort of his own home and without the need for layers of winter clothes, you could easily see the scars and more than what you saw initially. The scars—mostly old burns of varying degrees of severity that seemed to cover every inch of his skin—were more condensed on his torso, peaking out the collar of his loose-fitting shirt. The ones that caught your eye the most, however, seemed almost surgical in nature, two lines that diverged from his sternum into a y-shape along either side of his neck. Your eyes moved upward, Adam’s nose almost completely gone, what was left misshapen by one particularly long scar that cut from his temple through his nose and curved down to his jaw in a sort-of ’S’ shape.

The worst you had long since gotten used to, so there were no gasps of surprise or fainting spells from you. Your glasses did, however, showed you the full scope of what must have been horrendous injuries, almost unimaginable in their sheer volume. You were certain that they couldn’t possibly have all happened in a single event, accident or otherwise, and Adam survive it. Despite his casual dress and the indoor setting, however, the shades remained on.

But, even as you tried your damndest to focus on the very serious task and show of trust at hand, it was hard when Adam was right in front of you, your attraction to the man only reinforced the longer you looked. You wanted to assure Adam that you weren’t repulsed by his appearance as he probably expected you to be nor were you tolerant of it—far from it, in fact. But to admit that you were fawning over the skin visible through the material of his shirt, or found him incredibly attractive seemed inappropriate for the moment—and it wasn’t likely that he would believe you if you came on too strong. Adam ran his fingers through his lengthy hair, and you sensed he was quickly reaching his limit for scrutiny.

At last, you made your way to the one thing still hidden away from you: his eyes. As you got closer, Adam tensed. He had returned to the stranger you first met, reluctant to get comfortable and with his guard constantly up. Back then, you had to be the one to make the first move and invite him inside.

So, you knelt down in front of him, carefully reaching out to take off the shades, stopping when Adam’s hand touched your own, even if he didn’t exert any pressure against you.

“I need to tell you- before you see,” Adam trailed off, clearing his throat before continuing, “These past few months- I haven’t felt so happy in a long time. Not since- well, I never imagined I’d get so close to you, and I’ve been trying to work up the courage to tell you before saying all that but I couldn’t so- these scars, I got them-”

You interrupted Adam’s rambling again by moving to sit next to him—though not by choice, your legs falling asleep from your uncomfortable position.

You recovered, however, taking Adam’s hand in your own and intertwining your fingers with his, “Adam, your scars and how you got them- you don’t have to talk about either if you aren’t ready. Even if I didn’t break my glasses, nothing that’s happened would’ve changed; I still would’ve invited you inside and tricked you into helping me clear out the cabin. You don’t have to feel obligated to explain yourself to me.”

“Thank you; I wish things were that simple,” Adam sighed, though some of the tension left his shoulders after your impromptu speech, “I got the scares in a car accident. I died back then.”

You blinked slowly, not quite understanding what Adam was getting at, “Well, I’m glad the doctors were able to bring you back, Adam—”

“I was dead for six months.”

You said nothing for a moment, at first attempting to convince yourself that he said minutes. You didn’t know what to think of the proclamation. The only thing that stopped you from immediately disregarding it was that Adam was the one saying it. And another thought wormed its way into your brain—the realization of exactly what the surgical scar on his chest reminded you of.

You reached up, hand moving past Adam’s face to the back of his ear, feeling the ridges of a scar and following the cut up to the top of his head, where you knew it would continue to the back of his other ear. You felt slightly lightheaded.

“My dad tried everything to bring me back- and he finally found something that worked,” Adam explained, taking your hand in his own and lowering it, “I’m not… entirely human- anymore.”

“Bring you back meaning like… magic? Or is it a Frankenstein-type deal?” You weren’t even aware of what you were saying anymore, words spilling out of you before Adam could even respond, “I mean, Frankenstein’s monster since, y’know, Frankenstein was—”

“I wasn’t going to correct you, but yeah, the latter,” Adam laughed drily, “except all of my body parts are from one person. Well, except my eyes. My dad never went into that much detail of what he did exactly, though.

“Wait, so your name- was that on purpose or…?” You gasped aloud as you made the connection.

“No!” Adam’s eyes widened as he shook his head emphatically, “that’s just a coincidence. A weird one, now that I think about it, but that’s always been my name.”

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face Adam more fully, reaching up once again to gently remove his sunglasses, folding and putting them down on the stairs before looking at his face again.

Adam’s eyes had a cloudy blue haze over them, so glazed over you could hardly tell what color they might have once been underneath, much less how Adam could possibly see through them. Though, he clearly could from how they moved as he carefully studied your reaction.

“Now can I tell you what I came here to say?” You finally broke the tense silence, your voice barely above a whisper, to which Adam simply nodded, looking at you in amazement as you brushed off the earth-shattering news—reanimation was possible, the world wasn’t as it seemed, you had spent the winter with a dead man.

Inching forward slowly, giving Adam every opportunity to pull away, you gently placed both hands on each cheek and angled your face upward, just inches away from his own. You were tempted to close the gap between you, but managed to sit still.

After a short pause, Adam dipped his head down and pressed his lips against your own. He was awkward, stiff and out of practice. Taking pity on him, you decided to take the lead, prodding his lips with your tongue to get him to relax a bit. Eventually he did, melting into the kiss and even deepening it before wrapping his arms tightly around you and pulling you closer, as though you would suddenly slip from his grasp.

You let Adam go at his own pace, allowing him to grow used to the close contact after undoubtably going through a dry spell without any intimacy for a while. Soon, however, you were forced to break the kiss to catch your breath, Adam giving a small noise of discontent at the loss.

You realized you were practically on Adam’s lap, his arms still holding you close. Rather than return your lips to Adam’s, as he clearly wanted you to, you snaked your arms underneath his and pulled him into a tight hug, resting your chin on his shoulder. You couldn’t see his expression, but from the way he clung to you and buried his face into the crook of your neck, you knew it was perfect.

“Not to rush you, but the stairs are kind of uncomfortable,” Adam’s voice was muffled as he spoke into your shoulder, but as soon as you registered what he’d said you snorted and extracted yourself from his embrace, Adam standing after you with a lot more stretching and groaning.

Once you were both up and all joints were properly popped, Adam wrapped his arms around you once again and rested his head on your shoulder. But before you could lean back into him, he offered to go make coffee and didn’t give you a chance to respond before he vanished into the kitchen.

Exasperated that Adam’s urge to be caring had made him part from you, you decided to just wait on the couch. You were unable to keep the grin off your face for long, your mind occupied with thoughts of the kiss. It had been a while for you as well, and even longer still since you had kissed someone you cared for as much as Adam.

When he came back with two steaming mugs and sat next to you—much closer than he had during the entire time that you knew him—you decided to finally ask Adam about his past, now aware of why he couldn’t go into detail before. And once you worked up the courage to ask, it was as though a dam had burst, Adam truly seeming thrilled to tell you all about his family and childhood, his voice only getting thick with emotion as he arrived at the point of his death. He even soldiered through all your weird questions about his current state.

“So do you still eat regular food? Or were you puking immediately after eating what I made?” You set your empty mug on the table, your heart dropping at the thought of poisoning Adam, even inadvertently.

“Yes, I still eat,” Adam tried and failed to sound exasperated, “and before you ask- no I do not crave human flesh or brains or anything weird like that.”

“Are you immortal?” Was your next question.

“Well, I haven’t changed all that much since being brought back. I eat and sleep like normal. Though- I did find a gray hair the other day,” Adam mused, though upon another glance at you, seemed to ascertain your true question and adding, “But I’m definitely not rotting away- no limbs falling off or anything.”

With nothing else to interrogate Adam about for the moment, you simply began to admire Adam’s features again. Now that it had been pointed out to you and you could study him more closely, the undead aspects in his appearance were undeniable, especially with his glasses off. His chest barely moved, and you imagined it would be quite something to watch him sleep—or just sit still. And if the wounds were all incurred in a single accident—it was obvious he wouldn’t have been able to survive.

You were still unsure what the implications of it all were, if the fact that Adam was a reanimated corpse would matter to you once the initial shock of finding out wore off. As of right now, it was still an abstraction—you knew Adam was once dead, and could clearly see the evidence in front of you, but you also didn’t know the grisly details behind the process of bringing Adam back. You didn’t know if any of it mattered in how you viewed Adam.

All you knew for certain was that you liked Adam, fundamentally as your friend, and possibly as more.

“What are you thinking?”

You jumped slightly as you realized Adam was watching you stare at him, fear flashing across his eyes as he pretended the question was nonchalant.

“Just about how good-looking you are,” you recovered with a grin, a wry chuckle leaving Adam followed by a quiet ‘please.’

“What?” You scoffed indignantly, sitting up and staring Adam down sternly, daring him to try and argue with your assessment.

“Just thinking about what a great kisser you are,” Adam shot back, his wiggling eyebrows making you both burst out with laughter.

You leaned into Adam, a comfortable silence falling over the two of you and his arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“I think I love you,” you had your eyes closed, nearly dozing off when Adam’s soft words snapped you back to reality.

“I think I love you, too,” you murmured in response. There was no feeling of regret once the word was out, and you decided not to overthink things while in the moment. You tilted your face up to press your lips against Adam’s jaw before moving down the column of his neck, smiling against the muscular flesh as you felt Adam’s breath hitch at the contact.

You were careful not to use your teeth—at least, not for your first time. For now, the entire purpose was to make Adam feel good, loved, worshipped.

You felt Adam’s entire body stiffen as your mouth moved along his clavicle and jolting when your hand slithered under the material of his shirt to rest on his hip, but when you pressed a kiss against one particular spot at the base of his neck he let out a strangled moan.

A fire lit within you as you became even more brazen in your actions, you tongue flicking out and sucking on the same spot and your hand moving up to Adam’s pec, your thumb swiping across his nipple. This time, Adam’s entire body shuddered and the hand that had been resting on your wast flew to your hair, his fingers twitching as though fighting the urge to hold you to that spot.

Getting onto your knees, you looked down to examine your handiwork, Adam’s head thrown back against the couch, his pants the only thing audible in the room and his eyebrows furrowed upward in a pleading expression.

Your eyes roamed downward, your arm under his shirt lifting it away from the tenting material of Adam’s sweatpants. Your hand moved from his chest down to brush over the front of Adam’s pants, his hips bucking up at the touch. You brought your hand to your mouth and licked from the base of your palm to the tips of your fingers before slipping it underneath the hem and ran it along his length.

“I don’t think I’ll last long at this rate,” Adam breathed into your ear as you gripped the base of his girth and lazily tugged upward.

You smirked at the admission, determined to see just how sensitive Adam was, pumping your hand faster and smearing his precum onto your fingers, his growing moans music to your ears.

“So sensitive,” you purred, reveling in the surprise that flashed across Adam’s eyes before pure pleasure from your attention overwhelmed him, unable to believe the words that were spilling from your mouth yourself, “When’s the last time somebody touched you like this?”

“N-never- Ah- never this good… please,” your name came out as a strangled cry as you lifted Adam’s shirt with your unoccupied hand to close your mouth over his nipple, rolling your tongue over the hardening peck.

Distracted, your other hand slowed in its movement and loosened in its grip, and Adam’s hips jerked upward in an obvious attempt to get more friction. You knew there was a very high chance that Adam would come too quickly if you weren’t careful, and you were enjoying teasing him more than you anticipated, wanting to keep him at the edge of orgasm so you could continue to hear his whines for more. His extreme reactions to your every touch made another question pop in your head.

“When was the last time you touched yourself?” You asked, reluctantly parting from Adam’s chest.

“It- I’m-” Adam clammed up, which undoubtedly meant the answer was either embarrassing or so long ago he had forgotten. You would put money on the former.

Licking along the shell of his ear, you stopped your movements entirely, though you kept your grip on the base of Adam’s dick, “What did you think about while you did it?”

“Few- few days ago…” Adam cursed, your reward for the answer a small jerk of your hand.

“Mhm…?” You prompted, stopping again.

“Had to st-a-y during a blizzard and s-saw you when I went to take- take a shower and-” Adam cut off as you started moving your fist again, nipping along his jaw and murmuring praises in his ear.

You remembered the night well, whispering a reminder that Adam insisted you took the first shower and a plan ruminating in your mind while you stood under the water. When you exited the bathroom and announced that Adam could go next you went to the guest bedroom to change, leaving the door slightly ajar—easy to miss walking past—listening intently for the sound of footsteps and your heart racing when you heard them stop outside the door.

Suddenly, the muscles in Adam’s stomach tensed and he let out a choked groan. Looking down, you could see white ropes of cum spill onto his stomach, your reminiscing distracting you from your careful edging. You continued your ministrations throughout his orgasm until Adam hissed in pain, too sensitive for your touch.

Taking your hand by your wrist, Adam wiped it down the front of his shirt, a dopey smile on his face as he looked up at you. You grinned back, admiring how fucked out Adam looked from just a handjob, pulling him in for yet another kiss. Perhaps you were addicted.

“‘M sorry,” he suddenly mumbled as you pulled apart, leaning his head back and throwing an arm over his face, “I didn’t mean to take things this fast so soon.”

You chuckled pulling Adam’s arm away from his face and kissing his palm, waiting until he looked back at you, “I’m not complaining. But, if you want to take things slow from here on out…”

“Fuck, no,” Adam said immediately, sitting up slightly and his hand gripping your waist, “I have to return the favor.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Adam’s eagerness, excitement bubbling within you as well at the prospect, but it was clear he was already struggling to stay awake, and you were overcome with the urge to kiss him again, speaking after your parted once again, “We can have a round two after you take a nap.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Adam yawned, letting out a small sigh in contentment, as his eyes slowly slid closed.

“I love you, too,” you yawned as well, Adam’s sleepiness contagious.

For the moment, you were satisfied to just be there, on a couch in the arms of the man you loved, to let the rest of the world move along at its own pace. Questions of practicalities and ‘what now’s could be dealt with at another time. For now, you were finally falling asleep.

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #reader insert #zombie boyfriend #adam

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