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s0ym1lk · 2 years ago

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Yeehawgust 2023 - Chapter 1: Gather the Posse / We Ride at Dawn

I thought it would be fun to write for Yeehawgust this year! I'm going for a short story/novella based on the daily prompts. Hoping to have each section out every day or every other day, but we'll see how it goes. And I may possible move some of the prompts around, depending on how they fit into the story. I am writing this by the seat of my pants; nobody knows what's going to happen in it, least of all me. Let's get riding!

There was milk on the floor of the bar. That was the only thing occupying Buck Grady’s mind during the fight. The air conditioning in the bar had stopped working two weeks ago, and in the span of thirty minutes, that milk would stink to high heaven; there’d probably be some blood on top of it within the next few minutes, though Buck didn’t know if that would make the situation better or worse.

Someone slammed into the front of the bar. Buck could feel the reverberations in his spine where he was tucked up next to the hooch. It was where he always hid when a fight broke out, which was roughly once a week. Gave him plenty of practice in the art of duck and cover, as well as ensuring he had the number for the police station memorized. The sound of something shattering came from behind, and he reached for the bottle of whiskey next to him with a sighed and swallowed a slug.

“Quit dancing away like some little fairy, short man! Get over here and take a punch!” a deep voice roared. There was more crashing and the meaty sound of flesh thudding into flesh.

The piano up to that point had still been playing, adding to the cacophony assaulting Buck’s ears. It got worse when it stopped. Buck hunkered in even further, clutching the whiskey to his chest. For a long, terrible moment, there was dead silence.

“You think you’re faster than me, you little shitheel?” came the deep voice again. “Well then, let’s find out!”

The gunshot came so fast after his words they were almost simultaneous. Buck waited for another shot, but nothing came. There was only a rustle and then a soft thud as something large collapsed to the floor.

He waited to hear voices before he uncurled from his hiding place and cautiously poked his head over the bartop. A body lay on the floor in the puddle of milk. Another figure stood in front of it, gun still drawn. Behind the body, three men were locked in a staring contest with the man holding the gun. Buck could practically see the twitch in their hands, wanting to draw from their holsters, but it would have been suicide; with a gun already pointed at them, at least one of them would get shot before they could so much as touch the pistol grip.

“Your friend made a miscalculation. I suggest you do your math a little more carefully.” the man with the gun said. He didn’t sound particularly concerned, but perhaps it was the drawl that covered up the tone.

The men’s eyes darted to the body on the floor. Then, almost as one, they backed up, cursing, and stumbled out of the bar.

Only when the door was swung completely shut did the man holster his gun. The moment he did, figures emerged from behind upturned tables and out of the far rooms of the bar to gawk at the scene. People in Digger’s End didn’t have much of a sense of self-preservation; shootouts happened too often for them to. From the far end, the pianist re-appeared at the keys and began playing again. Like the customers, it took a lot to lever him from his seat. When he stopped playing, it was only because guns had appeared, and when he started again Buck always knew it was safe to come back out.

Buck was already on the phone to the station when the man with the gun appeared in his vision and slid onto one of the barstools just in front of him. Behind him, the bar’s patrons were acting like the body on the floor didn’t exist. One woman, in blue skirts with ribbons the color of ivory in her dark hair, stepped over the body as if it were merely a pile of horse dung in the road.

Buck eyed him warily, but the man didn’t make any threatening gestures. In fact, he looked away politely while Buck spoke, as people did when they were attempting to give you the illusion of privacy in a public place.

“Yeah, just the one dead. Can you come pick him up? No, sorry, I don’t know what happened to the man who shot him. He took off just as soon as he could.”

At this, the man’s eyes slid over, one brow raised. Whatever he saw in Buck’s face didn’t reflect. He looked away again.

“I apologize for the disturbance.” he said when Buck hung up the phone. Surprisingly, he did actually sound remorseful. Remorseful and tired; when Buck glanced at his face, the circles under his eyes seemed somehow bigger, his color more pallid, than before the fight had started. “I can pay for the damages.”

“Oh, it’s going on your bill.” Buck said drily. “But it weren’t your fault, so I can’t be too upset. The Bingley boys are a piece of work. When word gets around, you’ll be fighting off free drinks with a stick.” He poured them both a shot of whiskey and pushed one over to the man, who took it with a quick smile. He threw it back with the ease of the practiced. Buck didn’t watch the line of his neck as it happened.

“You know, the sad thing is, I do actually like milk.” the man continued once he’d set the shot glass down. “I drank gallons of it as a kid. If it made you taller, I’d be the tallest man in the world.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” Buck said ruefully. The bar had been shorter once. Then he’d almost lost his head to a stray bullet, and Buck had replaced it with something that could adequately shield his gangly frame. “Those short arms seem to make you quicker on the draw, anyway. Old boy over there didn’t even clear leather.”

The man gave him a crooked smile. “That’s Mr. Short Arms to you, my friend. Now, can I trouble you to help me rack up my tab before the boys in blue show up?”

Buck woke coughing, the taste of smoke thick and suffocating on his tongue. When he tried to open his eye, a searing burst of pain made them water immediately. Cursing, he tried to kick the sheet over his hips off and fell to the floor in a heap.

Being low to the ground helped moderately with the smoke, but Buck knew it wouldn’t last long. As quickly as he could, he dragged himself to the door of his room and felt it with the back of his palm. It was warm, but not hot. He reached up blindly for the lock, flipped it open, and crawled out into the hallway.

The smoke was thick as mud along the hall of rooms, so much that Buck could barely see a foot ahead of him. Crackling and the sound of wood collapsing echoed down. Then, a different sounding thud and a string of curses.

“To your right!” Buck choked out. “Get to the staircase to your right!”

He couldn’t be sure that whoever was there had heard him, but he heard the low drag of someone crawling and figured he’d done as much as he could. He needed to get out himself before he passed out.

It was a terrifying minute as he crawled as quickly as he could towards the staircase. Years of experience led him there where his eyes couldn’t; the hallway had become a completely different place, a hellscape of black and grey. Buck put his hand out and caught a bare patch of skin rather than the floor. The person he’d grabbed jolted and kicked his hand away.

Buck was too scared to even feel the pain. The floor was starting to get warm under his hands and knees. “Staircase is just to your left! Quick!”

The figure in front of him continued down the hallway, Buck right on his tail, close enough to almost get clocked in the jaw by his foot. When he reached the stairway, the figure flipped around to go down feet first, but before he could so much as put a toe on the first stair, there was a roar, and a tongue of flame came thundering up the stairwell. The figure lurched back and into Buck.

“First floor’s already on fire.” the figure said. This close, Buck recognized him – it was the man who’d shot the Bingley boy. He’d paid for a night in one of the bar’s rooms after a few hefty glasses of whiskey. He hadn’t offered his name, and per the house rules, Buck hadn’t asked for it. “We can’t get out that way.”

Shit. There was no other staircase down. The only option was -

“Back the way we came! There’s a window at the end of the hall!” Buck coughed out. He spun around and took off back down the hall as fast as he could go.

The air was no longer clear down by the floor, and the roar of fire was deafening in his ears. The floor had gotten as hot as a boulder at high noon and stung his hands and bare knees as he crawled. He was so focused on reaching the end of the hall he slammed headfirst into the wall and nearly knocked himself out. Clutching his head, he fumbled over the window, caught the latch, and threw the window open.

Mr. Short Arms jumped to his feet and leaned out the window, wheezing. Buck did the same. The fresh air seared his smokey lungs. Below, a crowd had started to form and Buck could hear the staccato melody of a rattle watchman, but there was no sign yet of the water wagon, and none of the bystanders were coming anywhere near the bar. Instead, they had made a line at the rattle watch’s direction and were passing buckets of water to the barber shop and the mercantile on either side, trying to wet them enough that they wouldn’t catch fire too.

“We can’t jump this.” Mr. Short Arms said grimly, looking down at the ground below. He was right; the bar on the ground floor had a high ceiling, so even though the rooms were on the second floor, they were three stories up. They would probably survive if they jumped, but not with intact bodies.

“Shit. I don’t have a ladder or anything. There’s another window on the other end, but it’s the same as this one.”

“I can solve this problem.” said a voice from behind them. Buck and Mr. Short Arms turned. A woman stood behind them, handkerchief pressed to her mouth. Either she had taken the time to dress or she’d already been dressed when the fire started; unlike Buck, who was in boxers only, and Mr. Short Arms, who had on shirtsleeves and a pair of longjohns, she looked as if she was out for a stroll on the town.

“Move.” she said to the two of them, pushing through to the window. Without ceremony, she turned and sat on the windowsill, tucked the handkerchief neatly into her decolletage, and then grabbed the two men. Mr. Short Arms got a small hand twisted into the collar of his undershirt; for Buck she buried a hand in his hair and gripped, so tight Buck thought his scalp was going to rip off.

“I’m going to get out of the way and you two are going to sit on the windowsill. On the count of three, you’re going to throw yourselves out the window. No questions.” As she was talking, the woman had been wriggling backwards until she fell out of the window. Mr. Short Arms snatched a hand out and caught her elbow, but she didn’t seem concerned about falling. Strangely, she wasn’t that heavy either, despite her tenuous grip on the two of them.

“Stop wasting time.” she snapped. “Legs out the window or you’re going to die.”

Too dumbfounded to question, Buck slung one long leg out the window and then carefully swung the other over. Mr. Short Arms tried to copy him, but the window was too small; he could only get one leg out and sit astride the windowsill, hips tucked flush against Buck’s thigh. He tried shift and nearly knocked Buck off the sill.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” the woman snarled. With no warning whatsoever, she planted one heeled foot into the wall of the bar and yanked the two of them out of the window. Buck screamed as he fell forward – and then blinked in confusion.

They weren’t falling. Instead, a warm swirl of breeze pressed against them, and the three of them floated gently down to the ground. It was the strangest feeling; the air didn’t feel supportive at all, but still they didn’t fall. Their feet landed as soft as moth’s wings in the dirt.

Then the woman let go of Buck’s hair, and he collapsed in a heap, wheezing.

It was a long moment before he clamored to his feet, and it took the arrival of the water wagon to prompt it. The wagon ignored the bar completely and set up to the left to hose down the barber shop; the line of bucket passers shifted to the other side to keep wetting the mercantile. One fireman in heavy

wool raced over to where Buck was struggling to stand. Buck recognized him – George Wiggins, the hostler down the road.

“Anyone left in the bar, Buck?” he asked urgently. Buck shook his head, trying to think how many rooms he’d rented out. There was Mr. Short Arms, the woman, and – had there been two more?

Buck glanced around and caught sight of a woman in a sleeping bonnet buried in the arms of a thickly mustached man. His heart jumped with relief.

“They’re all out. Those two were the only other guests.” he told Wiggins, pointing at the couple. Wiggins gave him a short salute and jogged back to the water wagon.

It took nearly an hour for the fire to die down enough that the crowd had mostly dispersed and the water wagon began rolling up its hoses. It was so late into the night that the first rays of dawn had appeared on the horizon, replacing the flames of the bar fire with its bloody red streaks. That was enough time for Buck, who had long since given up on standing, to come to terms with what had happened.

His bar was gone. His bar was burned down to the ground, with everything he owned inside it. The only thing he had left was a pair of boxer shorts.

“Shit.” he said to no one in particular. “Shit. What am I – what do I -”

Mr. Short Arms had disappeared at some point. Buck hadn’t been coherent enough to notice, but when he reappeared, his face was creased and serious. He crouched down in front of Buck, still in his long johns with his bare feet streaked with grime, and held something out to him.

“We’ve got a real problem.” he said solemnly.

Buck took the item automatically before his brain had caught up with what it was. The waxed canvas bundle was tied shut with a leather thong that had been scorched enough to snap in two. Buck already knew what he would find, but he untied it anyway. The red clay, snake blood, and yucca flowers had dried up into a smear of dark, gritty paste on the inside of the canvas.

“Someone set this fire. Someone – who would -” he looked up into Mr. Short Arm’s eyes and understood.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, but it’s all I’ve got.” the man said softly. “I didn’t meant to bring any trouble down on you.”

Gingerly, Buck set the bundle aside. His head felt stuffed with cotton. Everything felt strangely distant; he noticed with bland attention that his body was covered with goosebumps, but no part of him registered the cold that produced it.

“I -” he tried, and got nowhere. Mr. Short Arms, still crouched in front of him, turned his hand to the side, then quick as a snake grabbed Buck’s arm and hauled him to his feet.

“I don’t think the trouble’s over, either. Come on.”

Buck glanced over to the side and saw a trio of men standing in the remains of the crowd, looking to the left and the right. Bingley boys. Two of them had been in the bar last night. The third was new. None looked friendly.

“I think the two of you were supposed to die in that fire.” came a voice from Buck’s right side. The woman in ribbons who had floated them down to the ground reappeared. She looked as equally unfussed by the idea that they were being hunted by a trio of murderers as she had standing in a burning building. “Do you have a plan?”

“My horse is at the hostler down the way. I think getting out of town for a few days is the best bet.” Mr. Short Arms replied. The woman nodded.

“As is mine. If you don’t mind company, I’d like to ride along.” she shot a glance at Mr. Short Arms. “As it was, I’d hoped to engage your services, Mr. Robbins, and I’m willing to wait until you’ve tied up this loose end.”

Someone shouted behind them. The three of them turned their heads as a unit. Someone was pointing in their direction.

“We’ll figure all this out later.” Mr. Shorty concluded. “For now, let’s get a move on before we all get shot.”

#yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2023 #original fiction #gather the posse #we ride at dawn #anybody know what the heavy-handed reference in this section is?

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xxdragonwriterxx · 4 years ago

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🔥Where Is Your Rider?🔥

A/N: HEY EVERYONE!!! So, I just wanted to thank you guys for the massive amount of support you guys have given me recently, I just managed to reach a pretty significant follower count!!! I don’t want to specify the number because I don’t want to make this into a competition, but I’m so happy and grateful for all of you guys and the love and support you have shown me! As promised, I plan to celebrate with a face reveal! I’ll specify when I’m going to do it (as I don’t know when I won’t be busy, lol) but it will happen soon! For now, enjoy this super angsty short one-shot I have written for you guys! This was supposed to be a really short drabble but because I have no self control whatsoever, this ended up being nearly 3,000 words instead of the 500 I planned for it. Also, this was inspired by the two songs, “Where is Your Rider?” and “Pale White Horse” by the Oh Hellos! I hope you enjoy, and again, thank you guys so much!!! ❤️❤️❤️

🐉 Song Recommendation: “Pale White Horse” By: The Oh Hellos 🐉

Word Count: ~2.8k

~~~

Levi braced his hands on his knees, panting so hard his throat burned with dry fire. That had been close. Too close. To say that the expedition had been a nightmare would’ve been an understatement. It had been an absolute disaster. What was supposed to be a simple mission to retrieve some supplies from an abandoned battle station outside the walls had turned into chaos quicker than anyone could’ve ever anticipated as abnormals had surrounded them on all sides. Levi had tried his best to protect as many of his soldiers as he could, but even Humanity’s Strongest Soldier had been overwhelmed by the vast number of titans. Erwin had called for the retreat only minutes into the expedition, and yet they had still lost more men on this mission alone than they had during the past six months.

Levi closed his eyes, willing the tears back against the images of his fallen comrades, their broken bodies and screams of his name as they were devoured right in front of him. He had to stay strong, just for a little while longer. As soon as he got back within the walls and was able to retreat to his office, he would be allowed to break, to let loose the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. But for now, he had to be the pillar of strength that his remaining soldiers could look up to for hope and reassurance.

He sighed deeply, forcing down the bile that rose in the back of his throat, and raised his head, his eyes still closed as he prepared what he was going to say to his squad. When he finally felt ready enough to face them, he turned with his head held up high to the pitiful number of soldiers left on the field. He opened his mouth to talk when all of a sudden, he noticed something.

Her squad wasn’t back yet.

Levi’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his mouth hung open as the words of his quickly prepared speech were immediately thrown out the window, his mind clouded with worry.

“Where’s Captain (Y/N)? And her squad?” Levi asked, prompting the men around him to stop what they were doing and look to their raven-haired superior. It was obvious that Captain (Y/N) and Captain Levi were together, that much was apparent from Levi’s subtle favoritism and soothed demeanor when she was around, but their relationship was often overlooked due to the professional manner in which they regarded each other when working during the day. Nobody was privy to what occurred behind closed doors - the clingy, loving nature that Levi adopted around (Y/N) when they were alone.

Levi felt a cold tremor trickle down his spine when nobody answered, some of their faces paling as they suddenly remembered their Captain’s relationship, panic laced in their eyes when they realized that nobody could answer Levi’s question. “Did anybody see where they went? Or could make a guess on which direction they could’ve gone?”

Levi tried to keep his voice steady when silence once again answered him, only the soft murmuring of the cadets asking each other for information filling the space. His breathing quickened and shallowed, making him feel light-headed, but he shook the feeling away. He needed to stay focused if he was going to find her. She was going to be alright, she had to be. He wouldn’t accept any other option.

“Alright then, everybody stay here. Commander Erwin should be arriving with the rest of you in a moment. When he gets here, someone tell him that I’ve gone to look for them.”

He whirled on his heel when he was met with murmurs of acceptance, aiming for his horse until a quick flash of movement caught the corner of his eye. He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized it was the movement of a horse racing for them, its hooves striking the ground with every beat as it galloped for them in a panic. Cold dread washed over Levi as the horse got closer, immediately recognizing the silvery white coat of (Y/N)’s stunning mare.

Levi was frozen in fear for the first time in his life as the horse came barreling towards him; riderless. He managed to snap out of it and quickly moved to intercept the horse, using his hands to jolt the frantic horse to a stop. Levi cooed at the mare, murmuring soft words of comfort as he approached her as slowly and non-threateningly as possible. When she had finally calmed down enough for him to touch her, Levi carefully curled his fingers around her reins and stood back to get a good look at the animal.

Her nostrils were flaring with every harsh breath she took, panting with both fear and exertion. Her eyes were wide enough to flash the whites around her irises at him, her gaze darting all around them as if expecting something to jump out at her. Levi felt his stomach clench hard enough to rip a whimper from him when he saw that her once gleaming silver coat was now soaked in sweat, mud, and fresh blood. Levi took a shuddering breath, his eyes closing.

“Danika, where is your rider?”

The mare’s only response was to jerk her head in panic, her ears pinned as she tried to rip herself from his iron grip. Levi bared his teeth, a few stray tears sliding down his cheeks. “WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR RIDER!?”

He knew shouting would only make things worse, but he couldn’t help himself, his fury and paralyzing fear driving him to the edge of insanity. Where was she? She had to be here, he wouldn’t accept this, couldn’t accept this. She was alive and well and perfectly fine, her horse was just acting crazy. It had to be some kind of trick, some kind of illusion meant as a punishment for the lives of the men he had lost.

He rubbed his eyes but to his horror, the image of blood soaking Danika’s fur didn’t disappear. He wanted to believe that it was Danika’s blood, that the poor animal had just been clawed up in battle, but he knew it wasn’t hers. She had no external wounds to speak of and the blood was pooled on top of her saddle and splashed along her flank rather than gouged from her flesh.

More tears started to stream down his face, the air in his throat hitching with every shaky breath he took. It wasn’t possible. No. She was alive. (Y/N) was alive. The love of his life was alive. Levi hung his head, his hair falling to curtain his expression as he choked on another sob. “Danika, please. Please. Where is your rider? Where is (Y/N)? She was with you, right? She has to be around here somewhere…”

He knew he must look deranged, talking to a horse and muttering to himself, but he didn’t care. All he cared about, in that moment, was finding out where the fuck his lover was. Another sob ripped through his body, his eyes squeezing shut even harder as more tears fell from behind his lids. He didn’t want to accept it, he couldn’t accept it, so why was his heart shattering as if he already had?

The sudden touch of a warm muzzle brushing against his face made him flinch and look up, only to be met with the sight of (Y/N)’s silver mare, watching him with a deeply sorrowful expression that mirrored his own, as if she too was grieving the loss of her rider. Levi wanted to scream, wanted to chase the mare into the woods, wanted to slash titans until his body gave out, but he knew he couldn’t do any of those things. It wasn’t the horse’s fault, no matter how much he wanted someone to blame.

“Please,” he whispered, his fingers coming up to curl against Danika’s soft muzzle. “Please tell me she’s alive. Tell me she made it back with you, you just got scared and left her behind. Tell me that she’s going to be okay. I-I can’t live without her, please.”

He was begging now but he didn’t notice. He just wanted some damn reassurance, some comfort, some support - all of the things that (Y/N) usually provided for him when he felt helpless. But (Y/N) wasn’t with him and he was floundering. His eyes were glossy with tears as he looked deep into the mare’s eyes, begging with both his voice and his gaze for the horse to give him something, anything to work with.

“Levi,” the deep voice right beside him made him jump, too lost in his hysteria to notice that Erwin had slipped up next to him, his face dark and grim. Levi’s eyes were frantic as they searched Erwin’s gaze. He knew the Commander had seen (Y/N) last, her squad had been flanking his during their initial departure. Erwin swallowed. Hard.

“Levi, I’m so sorry but…” The Commander dug around in his pocket until he found what he was looking for and pulled out a small piece of fabric with (Y/N)’s name written on the back. It was (Y/N)’s wings of freedom patch. Levi carefully took the patch in both of his palms, tears flooding his cheeks as his whole body started to shake.

“S-She saved her squad, Levi. They were being chased by a hoard of abnormal titans and she darted off to act as bait. Her p-plan was solid, but there were just too many of them and they overpowered her,” Erwin said, his jaw clenching when he stuttered a few times, fighting back his own tears. He lifted a hand and rested it gently on his friend’s shoulder, squeezing once. “Levi, s-she’s gone.”

Levi immediately shook his head violently in response, refusing to believe it. She wasn’t dead, she couldn’t be. She had promised him that she would stay alive, that she would never leave him alone, especially after all he had lost. She promised. Erwin walked forward, hands outstretched to keep Levi from doing something rash, but he wasn’t fast enough as the raven crashed to the ground, collapsing under the weight of his grief.

A loud, miserable howl tore from his throat and filled the valley, making the soldiers around him flinch as they silently mourned, a few of them even beginning to shed tears as they watched their normally stoic, steadfast Captain break for the first time since they’d met him. Levi ignored everyone as he sobbed out for the world to hear, his head buried in his hands and his body shaking violently with the force of his sorrow.

He didn’t want to accept it, didn’t want to acknowledge what everyone was telling him was fact. He didn’t want to think about anything but getting her back in his arms as soon as possible. It was all he wanted, to feel her warmth pressed lovingly against him, to hear her murmur gentle words filled with more love than he’d ever expected to receive in his life, to see her eyes light up brightly whenever she saw him. Without her, he was nothing. He knew that if he accepted this, that he would be accepting the loss of his very soul. It was too much for him to handle, he had finally been broken.

The pain was unbearable, he couldn’t take it anymore. Without (Y/N) by his side, he had no will to live. Fuck fighting the titans, fuck finding a new, better world, fuck being Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. Fuck everything. None of it was worth it if (Y/N) wasn’t wrapped safely in his arms.

“Levi…”

He heard Erwin coo at him, his hand outstretched to guide Levi to his feet, but the raven quickly ripped his arm from the Commander’s grasp, his eyes filled with an icy fire that would make Death itself shiver.

“Lead the retreat, take my men back to the walls.”

“Levi, what are you-?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Levi snapped aggressively as he tore his cape from his back and draped it over Danika’s blood soaked saddle.

“Levi, (Y/N)’s dead. You need to come back with us, if you don’t, you won’t make it.”

“That’s the point,” Levi said as he pulled himself into the saddle, once again avoiding Erwin’s attempt to grasp him.

The blonde’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his jaw dropping at his Captain’s words. “If you think for one fucking second that I am going to let you kill yourself over some girl-”

“Don’t you dare speak about (Y/N) that way,” Levi said, his voice a deadly calm. “She is not just ‘some girl’. She’s the love and light of my life and I’m not leaving without her. I’m going to bring her back, no matter what it takes.”

Erwin opened his mouth to argue, but wasn’t even able to get the first word out before Levi had kicked Danika into a gallop, aiming right for the forest she had come from just minutes earlier. Nobody could do anything but watch as Humanity’s Strongest Soldier tore off into the woods, dread settling in their stomachs at the thought of having to fight without his support. Because they all knew, even if Levi made it, he would never be the same. Unless (Y/N) was somehow magically still alive, Levi would never be the same man he once was. His responsibilities and future didn’t matter to him anymore, not if they didn’t include his love.

Erwin sighed and shouted for his men to retreat, knowing that sending more men to retrieve Levi would only end in more casualties, by both titans and Levi himself. All he could do was trust that his friend could hold his own and would make it back. The soldiers of the remaining squads did as he asked without hesitation but the air was thick with tension as they galloped back to the walls, unsure of how to process the loss of their two strongest Captains.

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vminity21 · 4 years ago

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hoax | jjk

Pairing: friend!Jeongguk x female!reader, friendship to lovers!au

Word Count: 2,854

Genre: fluff/smut/angst

Warning(s): angst involving unrequited love, foul language use, smut, oral (m receiving), grinding, smutty kissing, unprotected sex, may or may not have happened in a restaurant, slight fem!dom Rated: 18+

Summary: the hoax was that you assumed it was unrequited love, but being approached by Jeongguk’s potential love interest proved otherwise, and the determination of confessing your feelings had never been so strong.

Credit to: @suhdays for the cover! I’m obsessed with it!

It’s crazy to think that just a certain way someone looks at you can spark a desire to dream about every and any scenario you can fester to make reality seem promising. Especially when it comes to a potential future with a suitor who’s gentle eyes meet yours now and again definitely trailing strings of hope in its wake. You imagine the way he would touch you in a dim, candlelit room where nervous breaths echo and wide eyes venture; you imagine the way he would tease you with silly banter if you could only muster enough bravery to sit next to him; you would envision moments of laughter even in the hours of the early morning before heading to work; you even ponder about how he would kiss you the very second you confess your love for him.

You wonder, you wonder, you wonder.

Palm clutching the metal doorknob from inside the bathroom, nerves tingle along your stomach when a fresh wave of nausea erupts. He is out there somewhere in the dining hall with his family as well as yours, and everyone assumes you are working late. Desperate to reveal what you have kept underneath for too long, your boss gave you the evening off, and here you are fully clothed in a glimmering dress, hair curled, and makeup dazzling your face. Mind drifting to all the events leading up to this moment has been what fueled your impulse of a decision.

When a friend of the past, LenLen, reached out to you last spring, you immediately took it considering it had been years since you had seen her including her four siblings: Maeve, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jeongguk. Unfortunately, your siblings, Monnie and Hoseok, happened to be busy that evening but you still went anyway, driving to what happens to be your favorite Italian restaurant. Seeing LenLen for the first time in four years was exciting, and you were happy to discover she had a boyfriend by the name of Kim Namjoon. His tall frame nearly overtowered LenLen and you were very appreciative of how social he was, and you found it quite adorable that they happened to meet on a popular dating app where many knew it to be for casual hookups.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the crew to show up, but you were amazed at how much everyone had grown- four years can make a world of difference, but you will never forget when your eyes landed on Jeongguk- your heart nearly leaped from your chest. Dark strands parted to showcase glimmering brown eyes and a thin lipped smile remained on his face nearly the entire evening. The attraction you felt was evident to you especially when everyone decided to continue the evening with mini golf. Anytime he was around you, it was like the feelings budded into a hope you weren’t sure how to control.

LenLen and Namjoon who you had carpooled with after dropping your car off at the apartment, decided to head home and LenLen’s siblings offered to drive you back to where you live. Jeongguk wouldn’t even drop you off where you claimed you would walk, parking in a handicap spot close enough to where the walk was easier to get to your door. He hadn’t gone with you but you were thankful he was kind enough to dismiss your original request. After a few days, you received a dm of a meme that he said made him think of you which ignited the excitement that he may be interested in you after all, but it was the most short lived four messages you had ever seen.

Moving on, nearly a year and a half passed when your roommate and best friend, Min Yoongi, decided to move into a new apartment ten minutes down the road, and your sister Monnie was preparing to move in to take Yoongi’s place. Maeve happens to be very fond of Monnie, and a month prior to the move, LenLen and Maeve invited you and Monnie to hangout at a Brewery not far down the road from your apartment. LenLen and Namjoon mentioned a guy named Seokjin who they were going to try setting you up with even though you already had a person in mind. When Monnie messaged you about the plans, you jokingly asked if Jeongguk was going to be there and at first he wasn’t, but when the day came, and he showed up at the table-

your hands went completely numb.

His presence was so overwhelming that you felt the need to consume enough alcohol to tipsy away the anxiety revolving around how shocked you were to see Jeongguk in all his glory sitting across from you. Taehyung took the seat to your left; Monnie had the biggest crush on Taehyung until Seokjin arrived and although the broad shoulders nearly caved you in, you knew Seokjin was your sister’s type and before you knew it, you caught Seokjin sneaking glimpses of Monnie every chance he got. And, after a few weeks, Seokjin and Monnie became the next couple aside from LenLen and Namjoon, cuddling at every bonfire.

As much as you hoped for Jeongguk’s attention, the most you scored was a teasing side eye while he planted his car keys into your hand where his fingers lingered a bit longer than you expected; also, the quick witted flirt of when you dropped your phone he offered to call it resulting in a deep blush flushing across your chest. Even admitting to him how he most definitely had muscles despite his insecurity of wanting his body to become more buff, and you may have spilled that he was attractive, because he is. The funny part is this all happened in front of Cadence- a girl Jeongguk had feelings for and the same girl who upset you enough that you are now hiding in the bathroom, trying to suppress the fuming anger boiling in your chest.

‘You think for one second he meant anything he said to you? I’m the one he wants and you know it.’

She was the first to see your arrival, and she immediately approached you with intense determination and resentment etched in her red lipped frown. She made it clear that she was aware of you and Jeongguk sharing a serious moment where you almost fully confessed, and he claimed how lucky any guy would be to have you. Your heart shattered for you knew he was stuck between a woman who couldn’t make up her mind and a woman that could. It was like he knew what the true answer was but he battled on not wanting to hurt anyone. When Cadence said what she said, you literally muttered, “What are we, in high school?” Offending the girl enough that you were able to stomp away, tears brimmed, yet you knew you couldn’t give up on Jeongguk just yet.

Bursting through the restroom door, the front of your gown clutched within both hands as you dash past the waiters and waitresses concentrating on balancing trays of food while the air reverberates with clinking glasses and scraping forks. The waft of savory meat and loaves of bread floods your nostrils, yet your eyes search the crowded tables for only one person. Frantically, you find his brother, Taehyung, fitted in a suit, chowing down on his dinner, “Hey, have you seen Guk?” You lean toward his ear trying to maintain your cool.

“Yeah, he’s over there,” Taehyung points toward his right where a few chairs away sat Jeongguk merrily conversing with his siblings though a sadness clouds his umber eyes. When you left earlier, he appeared visibly hurt that you couldn’t make it tonight, but here you are, rushing to him as if this would be the last time you would ever see him again.

“Guk!” You breathe, his wide eyes immediately turning to see you halting before him.

“Y/N? I thought-” He scoots his chair back to stand to his feet, overtowering you as his hair falls into his eyes. The sounds of the restaurant are loud enough to not make the scene unfolding as noticeable, but even if there was to be silence, you could care less.

“I worked it out with my boss, and I’m here now, and I don’t give two fucks what Cadence says-” you’re panting now as well as burning up with unwanted blushes.

“Cadence? She’s here?”

“Of course she is, when is she not with you?” Wetting his lips, his eyebrows furrow when he swallows slowly.

“I didn’t invite her.”

Shock is evident in your expression as the words died on your tongue, “You didn’t?”

“No, because it wasn’t her that I wanted to see tonight.”

When relief floods your limbs, you are hardly in a position to think straight for the man you’ve been hoping for all this time is finally seeing the light that has been shining this entire time: you. “Guk, I love you,” gasping, his lips collide with yours without any hesitation as his palms move to grip your waist. The tips of your thumbs find the corners of his lips while he kisses you slowly, taking in every moment that he never wants to lose any further for you are the missing puzzle piece that he has needed. He wants to show how sorry he is for letting you down prior to this moment; how blind he was to ever think he could let you walk away, and as stunning as you are, his heart pounds significantly.

“Awwww,” you hear Monnie coo as you giggle against his kiss. Jeongguk’s lips hardly leave yours before the pair of you find yourselves in a walkway where swinging doors meet at each end of the hall. Empty food carts are sporadic within the space and it’s so dim, your mind races with the feelings growing in all the right places. Moaning into his kiss when tongues meet, his arms latch underneath your ass before lifting you up to where your back hits the wall. Kisses growing so aggressive yet so passionate, you feel like you can’t catch a good breath and the last thing you ever want is to stop. Fingers tangling with the dark strands of his hair, your legs wrap tightly around his frame while you slide your teeth over his bottom lip, him hissing in response as he continues to bruise your mouth with the same hunger.

You are hoping not one individual happens to walk through here, and yet you don’t seem to mind this scandalous desperation of finally becoming one with the love of your life who happens to love you in return though it took a long time coming. Your dress has slid up to your thighs exposing your skin where you feel the material of his tuxedo and when the click of your heels meet the ground after a few more minutes of paradise, you feel his erection against your abdomen which arouses you to oblivion, and the sheet of your dress returns to sway against your shins.

Lost in the continuous motion of his kiss, you realize he plops into a chair that the back of his calves happened to discover. Breathless, you realize his attire has been disheveled while his hazy eyes sweep your figure, and with a lustful gaze you party a knowing smirk. Seductively you step forward to slowly swing each leg over his frame, set in a perfect straddle where your core grazes along his length. He hums pleasurably while you move your hips back and forth in a tease before pressing your lips to the corner of his jaw. Jeongguk struggles where to place his hands, sliding them along your back until he squeezes your thighs, letting you glide as much as you want while you pepper kisses on any visible skin you see.

Heat clenching, you can hardly take it anymore when you scramble to unbuckle his belt, unzipping his slacks, parting the slit in his underwear to reveal his being prompting your mouth to water at the sight. Jeongguk inhales sharply, you wanting to get down to business, sliding backward off his lap until your ajar mouth tickles along his shaft to build anticipation. “You don’t have to-”

“Shut up,” you take charge, fingers accepting his length carefully while the tip of your tongue dances from the base of his being to the tip in an agonizing pace. He places his hands within the curls of your hair, tightening his grip as he groans in ecstasy. Swirling your tongue along his tip, spreading his precum on his surface, you dip, sucking up and down- the feeling so satisfying, he can’t take his eyes off you. “Fuck,” his raspy voice sounds, “you feel so good.”

His words ignite the motivation to keep going, sashaying your tongue along his girth while you continue the bliss, but you didn’t want him to finish too soon. Releasing, you stand to bundle your dress up to expose a coral thong, shedding it down your legs prompting Guk to raise his hands in surrender. “Are you gonna at least let me pleasure-” Leaning forward with the sexiest menacing look you can muster, you fold your palm over the chair, inching as close to his face as you can to where your mouth barely brushes his panting lips. His words stop, eyes enlarging at the way you take the lead so effortlessly.

“I said shut. Up.” Deep down, you are willing to admit that you are truly showing Jeongguk what he will be missing if he ever decides to change his mind, and with the truth appearing at bay, there is nothing that you could ever do that will ever scare him away. He wants to make you feel good too. He wants to be with you. Reaching for his length, you position it beneath your core, letting the sloppy sound of your wetness cover his tip before taking him all in.

“Ooooh my-“ He grits his teeth trying to control himself and when you nod your permission, he begins his thrusting, your hands tangled in his hair while you moan against his ear. The way he moves sends you over the edge in the most erotic way, and with each stroke, he hits your g-spot, the strong feeling growing so intensely, you can feel the brink of a climax. “Keep going!” You gasp, “Keep going, Jeongguk, keep- ah!” Your toes curl against your heels as your thighs tighten, your high coming to its completion, as an orgasm overtakes your senses. Jeongguk spills within in you, arms wrapping around you tightly while he presses his mouth into your shoulder. Hugging him back, you have forgotten the existence of time, and how long you two hold each other, you are unsure.

“I’m so sorry that I-”

“Don’t.” You stop his whisper, eyes closed while you bury your face into the crook of his neck, taking in the crisp scent of his cologne. “I’m just glad you’re with me now.”

He tips his head enough to where you turn to face him, a seriousness overcomes his expression, his stare flitting to make contact with your own, “I love you, too.” Hearing the words become so real to the point that you almost want to cry tears of joy, but that doesn’t get to happen.

“Uh-” A male voice echoes, scrambling to your feet in pure terror, while the scrape of a turning chair holds Jeongguk fumbling to return his area back into his pants. Jimin stands frozen in place while you struggle to form any phrase.

“It’s not- it’s not what you think!” You squeak, your skin burning from embarrassment. As soon as the words left your mouth, Jimin’s ajar lips and wide eyes, look down at your crumpled thong that still rests proudly upon the floor. Shit, you shudder, and Jimin’s stiffened frame, shifts to exit the hallway, Jeongguk stifling laughter while you twirl to face him. Unbeknownst to you, Guk had reached to retrieve the damp garment, shaking his head. “You’re laughing? Your brother just caught us having sex in a restaurant!”

“An isolated part of a restaurant. And, I promise you he didn’t see too much of anything, I think he will be fine,” Guk chuckles, standing to his feet while you stare at him in calm disbelief.

“If this gets back to Monnie, I will never hear the end of it.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” you reply, relaxing into his embrace.

“Good. Because I plan to be around every time she brings it up.” Tilting your chin, he kisses you once again. “And,” he pulls away swiftly, raising your thong to your peripheral vision, “I want plenty reasons to have to return these to where they rightfully belong.”

And just like that, your dreams come true, staring up at his wide smile that scrunches his nose, and the way he looks at you returning the same joy- the hoax of unrequited love almost made you give up, and Jeongguk is determined to never let you slip away ever again.

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 141

Last week I posted a day early because vacation was doing vacation things to my sense of time.... This week I forgot to queue the chapter up because Monday was a work holiday, so I forgot today was Tuesday. *insert facepalm here please*

Thanks on this one go largely to @baelpenrose who rightfully pointed out that one part made very little sense to him and therefore was unlikely to make sense to a reader. The clarification smoothed things out quite a bit, I think. Just in case, whoever spots the area I’m talking about gets a cookie as soon as travel restrictions lift.

As always, thanks go also to @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname for completing the corners of my support system. And, a super-duper extra-special to @drinksteawithcake! I don’t know if I am allowed to tell everyone why, but you know why you get the extra-special, and I hope you are having fun!

BWAAAAAHP! BWAAAAAHP!

“Uhhh?” I squinted in complaint as flailing arms clambered over me. One pair snagged me around my waist to drag me from bed before depositing me shakily on my feet. “What are you - ?”

BWAAAAAHP! BWAAAAAHP!

Any trace of sleep was shoved out of my system, replaced by sizzling alertness when I realized I was hearing ship-wide alarms. Shoving myself into the first clothing I grabbed, not even bothering with shoes, I was hot on Conor and Maverick’s heels as we raced out of our quarters and into the corridor. We paused only long enough for both men to kiss me and for “I love yous” to be exchanged before they turned and headed toward the areas indicated on their datascreens, while I hauled ass toward the Archives, ducking and twisting to avoid anyone in my path.

“Forty minutes,” Tyche told me crisply as I basically fell through the door, panting. “The Ark could be invaded and the battle over by the time you make it.”

“I ran….huff….the whole….ugh….way….” I managed to gasp out. Part of me felt like puking, but I was pretty sure the muscles in my abdomen were too busy to figure out the logistics.

Clicking her tongue, she pulled me up from the floor. “Alistair, make a note to suggest to Xio that Sophia’s quarters be relocated once we have a better idea of when we are dropping into real space.”

I nodded numbly. “And probably… amp up… sensors… give… earlier… warning.”

“Nice outfit, by the way,” she laughed quietly as we finally reached the shelter point within the Archives.

Glancing down, I had to suppress a sigh. The first thing I grabbed to dress myself had apparently been a pair of Conor’s boxer shorts and a very filthy t-shirt that I assumed belonged to Maverick, since Conor’s was usually under coveralls. “At least you can’t say I took my time getting dressed.”

Her shaking head was greeted by faces in various states of wakefulness - this had been a drill, and woke nearly the entire Ark during their sleep interval on Delta shift. But we weren’t out of the woods, yet: the drill didn’t end until all of Xiomara and Evan’s scenarios played out, including the mock combat and various tests of concealment for the other shelters. As such, Tyche stood guard over the choke-point into this section, while Alistair had stayed behind at the entrance.

Early on, when the drills started, there had been fifty-fifty odds that the mock-invaders would make it this far, but over the past few weeks, that had narrowed to maybe twenty-percent. It was still too high a chance in my judgement, and Xiomara clearly agreed as she stepped up training schedules and randomized the timing of the drills.

Taking a swig of water from a stash of bottles, I queued up my datapad and stood next to Tyche, watching the ‘casualties’ from a point where no one could see over my shoulder to avoid panic, which I would have done in a real situation. “They didn’t find mess hall seven this time,” I murmured.

She glanced at my screen. “Acoustics are still too damned high. She must not be simulating for that this go around.”

One of the decoy locations lit up. “Looks like this time it’s heavy on thermal.” The location in question had been equipped with a cooking surface, triggered to activate when the klaxons that had woken me up went off. Which Xiomara knew, but did not tell the ‘pirates’ for authenticity.

“How did they get past the combatants this time?” She asked, both curious and slightly worried.

Rolling back the sensor data, I watched it carefully. “Looks like these got in during the initial breaches, multiple points. But the line has held since, that’s good.”

Doing another check toward Alistair’s direction, she didn’t seem to see anything concerning. “How many?”

“Four,” I confirmed. “Sam’s thermal camouflage is working beautifully, though.” I couldn’t help but grin, and Tyche snorted at the same time. ‘Thermal camouflage’ was a bit of overkill as a name, but it was working well in every round. Potential access points were equipped with fast-acting environmental simulators - originally designed for temporary habitats on inhospitable moons - modified to release atmosphere like a Terran equatorial rainforest within one minute in an enclosed space. It was a much more simple and elegant solution than any others we had found for giving combatants defending the Ark an advantage - instead of trying to create technology to make them look colder, make the entire area match human heat signatures. Boom, instantly blinded enemies.

A tense half-hour later, the ‘all clear’ sounded, queueing grumbling from those who had dozed back off as everyone stood to make their ways back to their quarters. I waited with Alistair and Tyche for everyone else to be accounted for on the way out, and the three of us headed back toward our quarters together. Alistair peeled off first, living closest to the Archives, and no sooner had my sister and I reached my door than the page sounded for the post-drill meeting. She waved me off as she answered on her databand, and I did the same as I pushed into my quarters and flopped on the couch. “Councillor Sophia Reid, present, audio only,” I answered. “And no jokes, Pranav… I look like I smell awful.”

“Alistair Worthington, present, audio and video. I can confirm that she does, and she does.”

Laughter filled the comms and the rest of the group leaders and Councillors joined the debrief. Finally, everyone was present and Xiomara called the meeting to order. First, the leaders of each shelter reported in, as those usually went the fastest. There were a couple malfunctions in the deployment of the shielding to disguise the entrances and hide heat and electrical signatures, but nothing Huynh’s team couldn’t fix. Tyche and Alistair made the recommendations around earlier detection and the need to move those sheltering in the Archives closer as we approached time to drop out of relativistic space.

Once that was out of the way, it was on to the combat and invasion teams. Overall consensus was that Sam’s trick with the portable environments was a rousing success and would be installed at each point determined to be most likely as a breach, with trigger conditions to be determined later. “I hate to say it,” Michael sighed, “but we also need Charly’s team to crank up the scovilles on the arrows and grenades.” His team had played the ‘invaders’ this go around, equipped with sensors and readouts to simulate the effect our defenses would have on the various species who most commonly were found on pirate vessels. Evan had worked intensely with Pranav and Derek to ensure that the strategies provided by the readouts were modelled after similar strategies based on which ever species each team member was assigned, to ensure we weren’t accidentally drilling against human tactics.

Michael hated it, but he was strict about his team complying nonetheless.

“Seriously?” I squawked, and I wasn’t the only one. “One of those things accidentally went off in my quarters…. Can confirm, they’re pretty potent.”

“They dissipated too fast against my team, and also the contact element left a lot to be desired. Charly, you may want to consider adding a sticking element.”

“Duly noted,” she chimed in with a yawn, her normal pep doused by being woken up and then the drop in adrenaline post-combat.

“What about the sonic weapons?” Xiomara asked, moving the meeting along.

“Still less effective than Nixe is on her own,” a familiar voice I couldn’t put a name to responded with a sheepish tone. “How hard would it be to train more people to shatter glass with their voice?”

“Incredibly,” Grey stressed. “It takes a very unique combination of training and the right vocal chords.”

“Then we may need to work on adding a projection component. The sonic devices can match the pitch, but not the actual tone and direction. They’re very effective given time and especially contact, but we need something more immediately disabling.”

Xiomara groaned. “Are we back to Mariah Carey on this one?” Objections exploded until she muted the comms. “It’s that or opera.” Votes started scrolling up the screen, and I could see Xio nod. “Opera it is. Let’s find a suitable piece and try using more analogue-style speakers.”

“I still say that death metal would work better,” Arthur suggested as soon as the comms were back on.

“Annnnd we already tested it, I will remind you. The volume works, but the pitches aren’t high enough to hit a broad enough population of species sensitive to sound.” After that nearly-obligatory objection, the meeting continued going through reports from each combat team until finally Xiomara announced the end results. “I have to admit, this was one of our best drills yet. Ten percent casualties of the combatants defending the breaches, only two percent among non-combatants, and the invaders were only able to traverse three decks before they were subdued.” She let the cheers go for a couple seconds before getting everyone’s attention again. “Yes, great job on the improvements, but let me remind everyone - those numbers still leave us below threshold for a healthy genetic population. Engineering teams, make the necessary adjustments with whatever resources are necessary. Shelters Three and Seven, you will start training for armed and unarmed combat with Shelter Fourteen and Combat Team Two daily. Sophia, your team will coordinate schedules. Any questions?”

There were no arguments, not even a groan or mutter as the meeting was dismissed. Before I could even add the new task to my agenda the next day, I received the notification that Alistair had beaten me to the punch.

Glancing at the time, I wanted to hit something. I had to be back up and at work in four hours, and the realization weighed me down with exhaustion. The guys had come in and gone to bed while I was in the debrief, and I could already hear synchronized snoring coming from the bedroom. Rather than risk waking them with my now-frozen feet, I pulled the quilt off the back of my couch and rolled myself into it. Only minutes later, a heavy weight oozed across my hip and started purring furiously.

“Yeah, buddy. I agree. We need a nap.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years ago

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Home Sweet Home: Catch ‘Em

Summary- 3.9k Andy Barber x You. You and Andy almost have it all, married and with a jointed family consisting of Andy’s teenage son Jacob, as well as your two younger children John and Cassidy. Looking to add another member, your family is in need of a bigger house, a forever home. You find just the place, 112 Ocean Avenue in Amityville Long Island. Home Sweet Home

Written for @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho Spooky Scary Stories challenge. Divider by @firefly-graphics

Warnings- Child Endangerment, Hints of Smut (nothing graphic) Swears.

A/N- I chose Amityville Horror for the challenge because its one of my favorite Spook Stories growing up. When reading you will find a lot of similarities to the 2005 Movie, some of the scenarios and dialogue are specifically from that film. Other parts of it are from the book itself. The family name was changed for my own personal reasons. Happy Haunting! 🎃

A/N 2- We’re halfway through!

Chapter 2 / Masterlist

The family settled and a few weeks later, morning started out normal for the rest of the household , but didn't start that way for Andy. His coughing never seemed to break and he was covered in a light sheen of sweat. You were already up to make breakfast for everyone, and Andy came down the stairs, rubbing at his chest.

“Coffee Andy?” You ask while holding the coffee pot over his mug but he shook his head.

“No, I actually came down hoping to find some cough syrup? Or pain medicine? Anything really. We don't have any upstairs.”

“Oh I tossed out the old stuff. But I will pick some up when I go out today. I told Jacob that I would drop him off at the high school today after I got John on the bus.”

Just as you were saying this, a stampede of footsteps came down the stairs making Andy wince a bit and all three kids came around the corner into the kitchen. Andy barked out a bit sharply, which even surprised you. “Y’all don’t need to be running on the stairs.” He coughed again and shivered. “Fuck its cold… I'm going down to check on the heater. If you could get that stuff, that would be great.”

He snapped the door open and disappeared from sight while you were staring after him in surprise. Even all three of the kids seem to be in shock. Jacob just shrugged at his father's weird behavior and went to sit on a stool at the kitchen bar, the other two following him while you set plates with some scrambled eggs on them in front of them. Jacob just took toast nibbling on the edge of it a bit.

“My phone cant keep any kind of charge whatsoever! I just got this thing to.” Jacob flipped it around to show you, and you saw it was already at 50 percent. You frowned at that, because of course he had one of the better styles of phones. Much better than anything you've ever had.

“Your charging cord is working and everything?” You question and he nods, slipping it in his pocket.

“Works just fine. It charges it to one hundred percent, twenty minutes later it is back down to fifty.”

You shrug at Jacob at a loss and happen to glance at a small clock on the kitchen windowsill. “Shit.” you hiss out and down the last of your coffee. “Come on, time for the bus before we're late. Jake, meet you in the car.” You grab your car keys and open the door to call down to Andy. “I'm taking the kids to school.”

You heard nothing more than a resounding deep cough and frowned reminding yourself to pick up that cough medicine for Andy on your way home. “Got your backpack John? Alright, lets go.” The whole pack of kids ushered out the door, leaving Andy all alone.

Andy is pacing downstairs, waiting for the heater to kick on, cursing it out.

“Spent all this money and the damn thing wont work.” he mutters while pulling the chair from his desk to it to sit in front of it, messing with the buttons on the front till a groaning protest came from the heater, and it clicked on to blast a bit of cool air, and quickly switched to warm. Rolling his chair back to his desk, he pulled out files from the bottom drawer to contact his clients and inform them that he was back in business at his new location.

He was so tired though, having felt like he was up half the night feeling ill, and within a few moments he simply closed his eyes to rest them, he would use as an excuse to himself. Within moments he nodded off, and the creeping shadow came out of hiding, solidifying in front of his desk. Sharp clicking steps echoed against the cement floor and claws seared when they touched the wood of Andy's desk. It leaned forward to loom over the desk, over Andy whose chin rested against his chest. Forked tongue slithered along Andy's face, making him twitch in his sleep, whispering “Catch ‘em, Kill ‘em” Red eyes watched his victim for a moment, seemingly at peace in this state. It flexed its hands, claws scratching into the wood before giving a hard shake, sending papers and pens flying, Andy’s laptop skidding across the surface and a picture that you had set on there yesterday crashing loudly to the floor. Cracking the glass into shattering pieces across the floor to glint wickedly. Andy’s eyes sprang open and he tipped forward to grab his shaking desk in surprise to see glowing red eyes and the scream of “Catch ‘em!”

Then it all stopped, and he shoved back from his desk, pressing his heels to his eyes thinking he was seeing things. “What the fuck, what the fuck.” when he lifted his head, his breathing shaky to look at his desk, it was all normal. His papers were still exactly where he had set them before, his laptop in sleep mode ready to be used, pens all neatly lined up how he liked, and his family looking at him with wide happy smiles and laughs at the beach, the glass shining slightly in the light.

“Jesus Christ Andy, get it together.” he shivered, cold once more and started coughing again. The door at the top of the stairs opened and your soft footsteps brought you down, Andy glanced up to see you carrying a steaming mug with the string of a tea bag wrapped around the handle and a paper bag that he assumed must have been the med’s he asked for. You reached the bottom and started approaching him, seeing his flushed face, the way he was heavy breathing with the rise of his chest, and you frowned while sitting the mug in front of him.

“Baby, you don't look so good.” Your hand brushed against the side of his face, and it felt ice cold to him. Jerking out of your touch a bit, he wrapped his hands around the mug and sipped from it, scowling at the taste.

“Don't talk to me like one of the kids Y/N.” he bit out of nowhere and he could see your face flash in a bit of hurt. “Sorry- sorry… I don't know what's wrong. Just a head cold is all. Are those the med’s?”

“I got you a bit of everything.” your voice was colder towards him now, turned off from his offhand comment, and you set those down to, Andy knew he had to make it up to you, that was twice in the same morning he had been short, completely out of character for him. His hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his lap, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“I’m sorry I have been an ass this morning.” He said, hoping you would ease up a bit. Which you did, he felt you relax on his thigh and your hand lifted to brush through his hair, tilting your head.

“I know you're not feeling good. Come up soon and lay back down though? I am worried about you.” you confess, and he nods. “I gotta go back up and check on Cassidy.”

You leave him at his work, and going up the stairs, you leave the door open to let the kitchen's sunshine at least shine down the dark stairs. Maybe it will remind Andy to come back up you think to yourself as you leave the kitchen.

As soon as you do, the door eases shut, closing him back down in the dark belly of the house. Up the stairs, you walk the long hallway towards Cassidy’s room, gazing along the walls, imagining the photos you wanted to hang along the way when you heard Cassidy’s soft voice seemingly talking to someone.

“No Jody, I cant. Mommy wouldn't like that, and neither would Andy.” You tilt your head curiously hearing this now, recalling her mentioning someone by that name a few times now since moving in.

“Well, okay Jody, that doesn't sound too bad. And it is really cool. He took me out on it a few times. Even let me drive it once.”

You eased her door open to see her standing in the middle of her room, and she jumped when she saw you.

“Oh mommy! You scared me.” She giggled, and you poked your head around the door to see what she was talking to. Nothing, there was nothing there.

“Who are you talking to, Babygirl?” You ask, and Cassidy looks once more where she had been talking before answering.

“Jody, but they are gone now.” she hummed and turned towards her box of toys to dig through it. You come into the room and go to sit on the edge of her bed, watching as she pulled out a few of her dolls and brought out her tea set.

You wiggle your nose a bit, knowing imaginary friends were not uncommon. You pull up to a stand as she is setting up her dolls around a small table. “Do you want me to have tea with you?”

“No Mommy, I wanna just play by myself.” She said happily and you lean down to kiss the top of her head. Walking out, Cassidy followed behind you, peeking out to see you heading off to go back down the stairs.

“Okay Jody, she's gone. You still wanna go down to see the boat?” Cassidy looked over her shoulder to see the closet door easing open on its own. Cassidy giggled, and raced out of her bedroom, one goal in mind. Going to the boathouse.

You're in the kitchen, unpacking the last few boxes when you hear Cassidy’s feet thumping down the stairs. Luckily Andy is still down in the basement and hopefully can't hear the thumps that seemed to bother him. You were surprised in finding the door, but figured he must have had to shut it if he was talking to a client. Opening it back up to hear Andy was still downstairs, typing away on his laptop now with the clicking noise that worked its way up the stairs. Humming you lift another box on the table and start to unpack the contents. Turning your back from the fridge, you hop up to sit on the edge of the counter so you could fit the dishes together and put them on the upper shelf you couldn't reach. Unnoticed by you, the alphabet letters on the fridge start shifting around, letters coming together to fit together in a couple words.

When you finish, you hop off the counter and turn back to catch sight of the refrigerator door, your eyes widening at the horrible words spelled on the door.

Katch ‘em Kill ‘em

You gasp in shock at them, wondering who would have possibly written that. Thumps on the stairs distracted you half a second and Andy appeared with his mug for a refill. “Andy, did you write that on the fridge?” you say in a slightly accusing voice, and he frowns while glancing at you as he heads to put the kettle on the stove.

“What are you talking about Y/N?”

“The magnets on the fridge.” You answer and you both turn to the fridge door to see the letters scattered all over the place, not spelling anything. You scowl in frustration, because you know what you saw and Andy gives you a strange look.

“What words?” he asks while he's at the sink, filling up the kettle with water and you just shake your head.

“Nothing, I thought I saw something, but I didn't.” you brush it off, now unsure of what you saw. While you're unwrapping more dishes, you suddenly hear Andy utter. “Oh shit, Cassidy!” and the tin sound of the kettle crashing in the sink while Andy is sprinting to the back door and outside. You drop what you're doing and follow him out, right on his heels as he's running down the wooden deck steps and headed straight for the boat house. “ANDY?” You shout from behind him as he's running full out across the deck. “What's wrong?!” your panicked, unsure what is going on while Andy is trying to wrench the door open.

“Cassidy, I saw her go in here.” He rushed out as he wrenched on the handle, trying to get it to unclasp. You start pounding on the door now in a frantic way, Cassidy couldn't swim, and the boat house was stretched over the lake, should she slip in, there was a good chance she would drown. Your fear builds as Andy continues trying to get the door open. “What the fuck. CASS! OPEN THE DOOR.” he yells while trying to push it open.

“Oh god Andy, get it open, get it open.” tears start to well up in your eyes as you picture your daughter slipping under the water out of sight.

Andy growls out and pushes you aside to slam against the door, hoping to wrench it open. “I'm trying Y/N, get out of the way.”

Your just about to jump in to swim around to the other side of the boat house when the door sprang open and you both race in, looking around the dim interior to see Cassidy standing on the nose of the motor boat just staring out over the lake, you gasp in surprise seeing her like that as Andy made his way carefully along the edge of the deck not to startle her.

“Cass, Babygirl, look at me.” Andy says softly as he makes his way towards her. Your right behind him.

“Cassidy, look at Andy.” you whimper out, watching as she gets closer to the edge of the boat, and her gaze was so far away out over the lake, like she never noticed you or Andy trying to get to her.

“Cass!” He says more urgently, and she jumps to look at him, slipping a bit as the boat rocks from her movements. “Take my hand baby.” He stretches his hand out and she shakes her head a bit.

“I can’t, I gotta go.” Cass say’s with certainty, tilting her head like she was listening to someone else. “Jody want’s to take me to play.”

“Take his hand Cass!” your panic rushing your voice and Andy stretches out further over the water, his voice turning hard and authoritative.

“Cassidy I’m not asking again. Take my hand.” When Cassidy heard him this time, she snapped her head to look at him and her eyes grew wide with surprise. She stretched for his hand, her fingers trying to reach for his. Andy is quick to snatch her and pull her off the boat to safety, falling back against the wall from the momentum. You gather your daughter in your arms, giving a sob.

“Cassidy what were you doing, you could have drowned.”

Now the girl is caught up in Andy's and yours fear, giving her own sob as tears burst from her eyes while you and Andy rush out of the boat house with her strongly clutched in your arms, stopping just outside as she wails out. “Jody wanted to see the boat Mommy! Jody wanted me to go with them.”

“Cass, there is no Jody!” your nerves shook so you shout at her in anger and fear, and Andy reaches to take Cassidy from your arms.

“She's scared Y/N and didn't know any better, yelling isn't going to help.” He turns the little girl in his arms as she sobs into his shoulder, his hand smoothing along her back to calm her down. “Hey Kiddo, it's going to be okay.” He tried calming Cassidy who’s sobs wracked her body in Andy’s arms, and you walked away a bit to take a shuddering inhale. You know he's right, you're just upsetting her more, but your fear outweighed that right now.

“Just lock that damn door Andy, so this doesn't happen again.” you look back at the door and he nods.

“I will go pick up a lock at the hardware store, I promise.” He assured you and you nodded, wiping away your tears. Now your daughters crying in Andy’s shoulder upset you, made you feel guilty for yelling at her. You move to press your hand against her back and say her name. She tilts her head to look at you through teary eyes and you try giving her a shaky smile.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn't mean to yell. You just really scared me and Andy.”

She gave a sniffle and Andy eased her back so she could wipe her face dry and look at both of them.

“I’m-i’m sorry. Next time I will ask.” She said, and you nodded. Andy shifted her once more to rest on his hip.

“Cassidy, the boathouse is dangerous and you know off limits to you and John. If Jody tells you to do something you're not supposed to, what do you tell Jody?” he asked and the little girl lifted her arm to wipe her face again, hiccuping as she tried to catch her breath.

“I tell Jody no Andy.” she said, his hand still rubbing against her back.

“That's right, if you're not sure if you're allowed, you come ask Mommy, Me, or Jacob if it's okay.” he smiled at her to reassure her that it was all okay.

She gave a nod and he held up a pinkie finger, which she hooked her finger around and Andy kissed her forehead. “Pinky promise I swear Andy.”

“Can't break a pinky promise. You know… I think I have some cookies up at the house.” He said, his hand coming up to brush the last tears away with his thumb on her cheeks. “You wanna get a snack before I have to go back to work?”

Cassidy seemed to consider it. “Oreos?”

“Of course they are oreos!” Andy winked as you all headed back up to the house. “Best cookie there is, right?”

Cassidy gave a firm nod, and you let out a relieved breath. Crisis averted.

Later that afternoon, Andy came back out of the basement just as you were finishing the kitchen, Cassidy coloring at the table while he grabbed his keys.

“I will go pick up Jacob and stop at the hardware store.” He pecked a kiss on your cheek, and you looked at him.

“You sure you're feeling up for it?”

Andy nodded and flashed a smile. “I feel much better Love, those meds kicked in and some fresh air will do me good.”

You happen to agree since he's been in that basement most of the day, and you wave a goodbye, deciding you should probably figure out what's gonna be for dinner later in the day. “How about tacos tonight Cass?”

She cheers and you double check to make sure there was enough ingredients, which there was. No need to send Andy a text to pick up anything. “Come on kiddo, lets go pick John up from the bus stop.” you snap the door shut, bluntly ignoring the letters scattered over the fridge.

Heading down the driveway, the house groaned, all alone once again. There was a shattering through the kitchen, your finest dishes being flung from the cupboard and against the wall, fine china dust settling in the air as the scattered pieces spread across the linoleum for you to find later. The basement door wrenched open and the yawning darkness going down the stairs turned darker, more ominous.

When you came back, you stared in shock, stopping both John and Cassidy from going in to save them from stepping on shattered broken shards. “How about you two go on up to your rooms to play while I clean this up?”

Both children went upstairs, and you grabbed a broom to start sweeping, as you passed the basement door, you slammed it shut in frustration and anger.

Night fell and you got the kids settled in. Settling in bed yourself to lean against the headboard, massaging your temples while Andy was in the bathroom getting ready for bed.

You were beat after having to help John with his homework and Cassidy suddenly changed her mind and just hated tacos. Andy seemed to be feeling better, helping where he could. Offering to take over the dishes when John called you back to the kitchen table, and afterwards he hugged you from behind, kissing your neck while whispering in your ear that he couldn't wait to put a baby in you before he went back down to the basement to finish up with a few things.

Thinking back on his idea made you warm up and when Andy came back in the bedroom and stretched out next to you, you looked at him, biting your lip while looking at him.

“You really wanna tonight?” you asked hopeful, since moving your and Andy’s sexual escapades had diminished a bit and you put it all to the stress of moving a whole family to a new house.

“Make you a baby momma? Of course, come on over Pretty Girl.” He reached up to click off the lights and bathe the room in the moonlight when you gently eased into his lap, the two of you starting with gentle affectionate kisses before they turned deeper and needier. Andy's hands slid up and down your back through your tank top, and you would sigh against his lips at how good it felt. Andy chained kisses from your mouth to your jaw and you tilted your head back to let him chain those kisses of his down your neck. He pulled you in closer to feel more of you when his glance lifted to look in the mirror just behind you at the end of the bed.

At first Andy had no idea what he was actually looking at, a grotesque face appeared above him in the mirror, like it was balancing on the headboard behind him. Crouching in place, its clawed hands dug into the wood, its muscled body flexing as it swayed slightly on the head board. Up to its face, a forked tongue slithered out and red eyes glared at him in the mirror. How could something from a nightmare be here right now? He wasn't asleep, he was just about to make love to his wife. His head jerked back in shock, banging against the headboard with a loud crack as he looked up to see nothing above him. “Fuck!”

You yanked up in surprise, running your hands down his chest. “Handsome, what's wrong?” your head tilted and you looked where he was staring, feeling his heart starting to race under your hands.

“You didn't see that?” He grasped your hips, making you go still as you frowned.

“See what Andy?” his gaze fell back to ours and then back up.

“There was something there, fuck I saw it in the mirror. I don’t even know what it was. It looked like a- ” He grasped your hips and sat up to look around, your hands grabbing onto the front of his tee shirt in surprise. Looking back to the mirror and then to Andy who was still trying to figure it out.

“Like what Andy?” You are studying him trying to figure out what he was talking about.

“Fuck it I know Y/N.” His hold tightened on you a moment, like whatever was going to rip you away while he still looked around the room.

“Hey hey, Andy.” you cup his face and make him look at you, kissing his forehead and down till you leaned your forehead against his. “It's okay, there is nothing there, I promise.” Your lips brushed against his. His breathing slowly started to settle back down, and your hands rubbed against his shoulders and the back of his neck as he started to sink back against the pillows, rubbing at his face.

“It was so real though Y/N. These past few weeks, I feel like I'm losing my mind.”

You tilt your head and brace your hands against his chest. “Stress Andy, we’ve had a lot going on. It will get better, I promise.”

His blue eyes shined up at yours and softened seeing you looking down at him, his hands going back to tracing your thighs clasped at his sides. “You know I love you right Pretty Girl?”

You nodded and he twisted you two around till you were underneath him, and tilted your head up to kiss you deeply. “I think I was just about to put a baby in you.”

You giggled against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and whispering. “Yes you were Andy.”

#home sweet home #DinoScaryStories2020 #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber au #amber writes #sweater writes #halloween #halloween 2020 #writing challenge #amityville horror

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cosmicbash · 4 years ago

Note

One the angsty prompt ideas I’ve been thinking about is Kells practicing how to cook for weeks so he can surprise Em by cooking him dinner, maybe for an anniversary or something, and on the day Kells has planned to surprise him, Em is hours late, leaving Kells alone for the evening. If you’re interested maybe you could write something like this? 🥰

3 years together. One thousand and ninety five fucking days between him and this old dorky man.

It's insane. Downright impossible to believe but Colson knows it's as real and true as the 2 year sobriety chip he's got hung around his neck on the gold chain Marshall gifted him with it this morning.

Both their relationship and his sobriety are as intertwined as their lives are now. Marshall's like the glue that holds all of his pieces together. Picking Colson back up, time and time again whenever he shattered in the beginning and filling in the gaps with his own loose pieces until it was Colson's turn to do the same. Which, by then, it only made sense to combine their puzzles and broaden the picture.

Now Marshall swoops in for Casie's PTA meetings he can’t make during tour. Holding the phone and helping him FaceTime for soccer games and school conferences when flight delays or bad luck keeps him late.

Colson tags along to Whitney's first few dates out in LA, weaving through the public spaces Marshall never could without drawing attention just to make sure she's safe and respected.

They tag team any situation involving the girls, even though Alaina and Hailey both still snicker at him from time to time, and Casie rolls her eyes at Marshall's rules. They're more than just dating now.

They're family.

And even just thinking about that brings tears to Colson's eyes.

Or maybe it's the onions. Baze said chewing gum helped mitigate this fucking problem but goddammit does it burn-

"Fuck!"

He has no idea how he got it in his mind that he could actually cook a meal, let alone a full anniversary dinner for Marshall but here he is. A pot and pan already cooking on the stove and his fingers knicked a dozen times in his rush to cut up more veggies for the sauce.

It's insane.

But Colson's following through with it anyway, because he fucking loves Marshall and that bastard cooks dinner for them every single holiday or occasion so it's about time he stepped up to the plate and did it himself.

Plus he's been secretly practicing for weeks with Baze over both FaceTime and a few in person lessons. Perfecting his simmering styles and meat seasoning to make the tastiest meal he can manage all on his own.

So far the last three times he's made the dish his bassist had given stellar reviews so there's little chance he'll somehow fuck it up tonight knowing it's for Marshall…..at least, he hopes.

The minor setbacks his butchered fingers have brought aside though, so far everything was coming along perfectly. His noodles are boiling (never over the rim, thank you wooden spoon trick), his meats marinating, and as soon as he tosses these sliced onions in his sauce will be cooking down beautifully.

All in all the night is starting to look like it just might be perfect.

Until 6 o'clock passes by and Colson's ears never pick up the click of the front door knob, or the hum of Marshall's escalade pulling up front outside.

The food's still simmering, minutes away from being actually done so he doesn't worry too much. Sure he was hoping to have a sweet moment where his boyfriend comes home and catches him cooking at the stove like a traditional housewife, but seeing his face when the food's done and plated promises to be just as cute.

Besides, Marshall has always fit the housewife role so much better than him anyway. Even the apron Colson's wearing is one of the older rapper's, stolen from his small collection in the pantry to protect his designer sweater.

Colson doesn't start to worry at 6. Traffic can be a bitch.

7 though? And then 7:30 when his texts go unread and his calls ring all the way through to voice-mail? That's when the blonde starts to fret.

He's luckily put off plating because some brief flash on uncertainty had run through him after the food finished so it's stayed warm and simmering on the stove. But even that had to come to an end before 7:30 because his sauce would singe or his noodles might squish, so now Colson's trying to keep busy by perfecting the presentation. Shaky fingers swiping around the edges of Marshall's plate to clean up a splatter of sauce. Every Chopped Judge rambling off feedback in his head until he has it looking like something he's certain even Gordon fucking Ramsey would ask for a bite of.

By 8 the dinner table is set. His plate, Marshall's, the bucket of low alcoholic wine they both love chilling as a centerpiece. Colson even lights a few candles and adds some flowers from this mornings gift exchanges to keep himself from screaming.

There's a pit in his stomach that's steadily been growing though. Every passing minute and glance to his phone where he finds no change only carving it deeper.

Marshall should be home. He never runs this late at the studio without a call, let alone without a message. He's treated his work like any other 9-5 job since before they ever even got together, always strict about his routine and careful to make up for over run hours by leaving earlier the next day. Usually Colson likes to bust his balls and insist he live a little more spontaneously but tonight isn't the one to pull that.

Especially not if it means Marshall's going to completely forget to check his fucking phone and leave him trying not to think the worst.

Colson only males it another 5 minutes before he caves and texts Paul. Fingers tapping fast across his screen to draft multiple desperate sounding messages before he finally settles on a "Em bust his phone again?" That feels just casual enough to not embarrass him in the off chance Marshall decides to burst through the front door seconds after it sends.

The door stays closed though and Paul doesn't open the message at all.

Now Colson can't even start passive aggressively eating dinner on his own if he wanted too. The pit in his stomach has torn itself open wide into a nauseous chasm. Every scary possibility he wanted to avoid thinking about spilling forth from the dark trench like ghouls.

He's dead. Some crazy fan broke into the studio and shot the whole place up. No one's gotten around to tell him yet, that's all. They're too busy dealing with the fallout.

No, Em's security is beyond top tier, and with how close Colson and his current bodyguard are he knows the guy would call him immediately. Marshall's fine.

Unless… what if he was in a car accident? Or some road rage incident gone fatal? Colson's seen Marshall's short temper flare up while driving. They've made dozens of jokes about it in the past, so is it really that unreasonable to believe?

Colson's pacing in the front haul when he calls Porter. Phone tucked between his ear and shoulder while he fights his shoe laces, heart racing in his chest. Prepping to fly out of the house the second Denaun tells him what fucking hospital Marshall's staying in, praying it's at the ICU section and not some fucking morgue.

"Kelly?" The older man sounds confused when he finally answers. Voice high and tone light like he's expecting this to be a butt dial. "What's up man?"

The lack of rush or worry in Denaun's voice almost soothes Colson's panic right on the spot. Surely he wouldn't sound so casual if something had happened.

It's enough to keep Colson from immediately pleading for Marshall's safety at the least. "H-hey, uh nothing really-" Maybe Marshall is even with him right now, realizing how fucking late its gotten and how shit of a boyfriend he's been and that's why Denaun sounds awkward too. "Just uh, waiting for Marsh to get his slow ass home ya know? Sorry, aheh, I'm probably sounding like a fucking needy girlfriend right now, calling his friends and shit-" the longer Colson rambles the more embarrassed he actually feels in the moment.

God he must sound pathetic right now. Panicking over Marshall being a few hours late.

"Waiting? Didn't Marshall head out like 2 hours ago?"

"W-what?"

Colson's blood feels like actual ice in his veins.

"He isn't home? I mean, I know he was gonna stop at- fuck is it already half past 8? Marshall seriously isn't home?" Denaun's sudden panic only heightens Colson's own, but he can't get any more words to come out. Not with how a rock feels like it's jumped up his throat. "Shit, Ryan are you getting through to him? Try Paul-"

Ryan's there too?

"What? Paul's gotta fucking answer-"

They can't get ahold of Paul either?

"Kelly have you-"

Marshall's missing. Colson's been standing around making dinner for hours, worrying over the portion sizes and appearance of his plates and Marshall's been fucking missing. What kind of partner is he? What will he even tell Hailey? Alaina? And fuck Casie is supposed to be coming up this weekend so they can all go vacation together before his next tour-

The front door bumping into his shoe startles Colson out of his frozen panic. Denaun's angry shouting dropping from his ear, as he twists and meets a pair of sheepish blue eyes peeking around the hardwood.

"Hey."

Marshall's…..

"Is that my apron?"

So fucking dead.

"Is this your--" Colson's fingers are curling around the edge of the door so fast he doesn't even care that it makes his phone fly to the floor. "That's what you want to fucking say to me!?" His anger is boiling fast, replacing the cold in his veins with lava. "You fucking piece of-"

Marshall stumbling inside with the yanked door is expected, but the flash of bandages and a sling douse Colson's flames like a bucket of water. "Ow, fuck just give me a second to explain-"

He's hurt.

Now with all of Marshall visible Colson's hyperaware of dry blood splattered on his white graphic tee and scratches partially hidden within the rapper's beard along his cheek. "I got in an accident out on the M-8, it was minor but-"

Colson really can't handle all these rapid mood switches Marshall is putting him through today.

“You fucking idiot-“ Tears are bubbling up in his eyes and it’s like his hands can’t reach his partner fast enough. Pulling Marshall into his arms for a tight hug despite the pained noises his actions inspire. “Stupid, old asshole-“ Marshall’s hurt, the cars probably wrecked, but he’s home and that’s enough of a relief to finally smother that pit weighing down his stomach. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

A moment passes before he’s hugged back, shock more than likely freezing his partner up but when Marshall does loop his good arm around Colson he pulls him close. So close Colson is the one who’s bones feel like they might ache. “Can’t make any promises about that,” The older rapper’s palm feels warm when it climbs to cup his neck, Marshall’s face turning to press a kiss into Colson’s throat.

That brush of lips is the final crack to release the flood gates.

"I love you."

"I know."

"I really really fucking love you."

"I know baby."

"I don't care how old your ass is, you better hold out and fucking die after me like a proper goddamn boyfriend, you hear me Marshall?" He's getting snot all over the older rapper's shirt. Full on smearing it across his own cheek and the fabric with every pointless rub of his face. "I love you so fucking much. Can't do this without you."

"Told you I'm not dying after you unless you kill me first, and I'm chasing you into the afterlife once you do go too. Fuck all the marriage shit, death ain't parting us either you brat." Marshall's tone is light and his palm is doing wonders to comfort him by rubbing circles into his back. It's enough to slow his hiccupped breathing down a few notches. "I dunno if you noticed but, I'm a little obsessed with you."

That drags out a wet snort. "Y-yeah?" When Colson pulls back to meet Marshall's eyes he swears he can see a wet shimmer starting to glaze over his partner’s as well. "Prove it then."

There's a flicker of something in blue eyes, so fast that Colson almost thinks he hallucinates the emotion altogether. But then Marshall's wrapped up arm wiggles between their bodies. The dark blue of the sling catching and sliding so his scratched up fist can shimmy its way partially out. "Planned on it-" There's something clutched tight there, black peeking out from between Marshall's finger and thumb. It's got Colson's heart dropping down into his stomach all over again. "What do you think I was driving so late on the M-8 for?"

"Marshall-" It can't be.

"Colson." But his shithead of an accident victim boyfriend is pulling back, both his good arm and slung arm awkwardly flailing in the air for a moment as he drops down on one knee. The visible wince not hidden as well as Colson imagines the man wants it to be. But Marshall's eyes are softening, and the blonde feels completely cemented in place. The only part of him moving being the uncontrollable shaky quiver of his bottom lip. "I had a whole moment planned, there were flowers, balloons, and those stupidly expensive alcoholic chocolates you love, but they all got absolutely trashed in the crash. Like, half of Detroit is probably going to think the Macies Thanksgiving parade started early. Paul called to have it all replaced, and honestly some intern is probably going to come banging on the door in about 20 minutes but I don't want to wait-" There's a flash of genuine worry that's furrowing the skin between Marshall's brows as he continues. "So I'm sorry this isn't gonna be that fancy perfect proposal you've always dreamed of-"

"Shut up." Colson's voice can't go above a whisper. His tone quick and clipped from how anxious he is to hear the man finally finish. "Just- shut up, ask me. Ask me Marsh, please-"

"Fine, always need to rush me."The rapper's lip quirks at the corners. Hands transferring the small box between eachother with a bit of fumbling. "Will you, Colson Baker-" Until Marshall can finally get it open with an audible clunk. "Legally commit to being with my annoying old ass forever?"

#sorry i had to give it a happy ending #i hope thats okay #🥺🥺#kells totally snots all over Em's shirt even more #and they end up sitting there at the dinner table #Em shirtless and Kells grinning like an idiot #eating cold food and being utterly inlove until the intern finally shows up #em slipping him a good couple hundred dollar tip #emgk #asks

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thewildwaffle · 5 years ago

Text

The Prisoner

Garn had not been overly enthused when he found out he was scheduled for yet another shift. As much as it annoyed him, he had his suspicions that it would not be his last. He sighed as he loaded up in the transport. That’s what he was in for he supposed. After all, when you’re working for the Trinn-Harrup Syndicate, one of the galaxy’s biggest, most notorious criminal organizations, you just have to work until the jobs get done. It paid the bills though. Hopefully he’d be able to afford to get out of this gleng-hole soon.

Pickup was during the night cycle, which was, on their current planet Karbrin, especially dark. Garn, as well as four more guards and a driver, arrived on location and waited for the drop-off. The prisoner they were to escort to the Syndicate’s Headquarters must be a high-profile enemy, or so Garn thought. It wasn’t his position to be in the know. It was his position to make sure prisoners of the Trinn-Harrup Syndicate were intimidated and unable to try anything stupid while they were being transported.

A beam of light lit up the abandoned lot where they were waiting. Garn shielded his eyes with one of his massive forearms.

“Dang Nebbilins, not only are they late, but they apparently feel the need to alert anyone within a quadrant of our whereabouts!” Garn heard the guard to his left murmur. He agreed. Dealing with Nebbilins was never an enjoyable ordeal. Their poor hearing and eyesight (especially at night) made any interactions with them incredibly noisy and conspicuous affairs. Not to mention that their quill-covered, opaque, multi-limbed bodies were hideous to most other creatures in the galaxy. Nevertheless, they were good at what they did, and what they did was catch and incapacitate prey. Especially when that prey had a bounty on its head.

The first two Nebbilins crept out of the ship, checking to make sure the coast was clear. They spotted the Syndicate guards, still somewhat blinded by the many floodlights from the newcomer’s ship. One of the Nebbilin scouts reared back its head and let out a series of loud squawking cries. Soon more Nebbilins trotted out of the ship, one half-carrying, half-dragging a bound figure. Nebbilin slime has a compound that paralyzes many species, which led them to be such good bounty-hunters. Certain quills can inject the slime into their prey’s bloodstream, if the slime that oozes from their skin doesn’t get to them first that is. Though their catch tonight looked like the slime had taken a toll on them, they seemed to still be in control of quite a few of their motor functions.

Impressive, thought Garn, This must be a particularly powerful prisoner. That would explain the high security tonight. The Nebbilins brought the prisoner to the Syndicate guards where Garn recognized the creature. It’s a human! I’ve only heard stories about them!

And what stories they were! Garn struggled to keep his calm. He had to look the part as an intimidating guard, but honestly, he wanted to get closer, get a better look. He wanted to know if any of the amazing stories about humans were true. Could they really survive being struck by lightning? Were their ancestors really hunter-gatherers that could pursue prey for days until it gave in to exhaustion? Could their punches really shatter Kartian bones?

He kept his questions to himself, however, as the other guards (who seemed substantially less curious about their prisoner) exchanged the bounty for the human and gruffly returned to the transport shuttle, prisoner in tow. Garn followed quietly, making sure to keep the human in view from behind the hulking masses of the fellow guards.

The transport ship was a bit cramped with all the guards and the human. Garn figured this was likely because the close quarters would increase the intimidation factor for any creature unfortunate enough to find themselves the enemies of the Syndicate. One guard sat up front with the driver, two in the seat closest the door, and one on either side of the prisoner in the back. There was no chance of anything fighting its way out, in case any notion of doing so were even still possible to any unfortunate enough to be in such a position.

Garn, to his silent delight, had been assigned as one of the guards to sit next to the human. The other guard, Arun sat on the other side of the bench and didn’t speak, as was protocol, but neither did he object when after a few moments, Garn quietly began pestering the human prisoner with questions.

“I’m not supposed to speak to you, but I’ve never met a human before. My name is Garn, what’s yours?”

“Porter. My name’s Porter Stone.”

That was an odd name to Garn, but who was he to judge alien names. “Have you ever been struck by lightning?”

Porterstone looked at him curiously. “Uhh… no.”

“Do you know any other humans who have ever been struck by lightning?”

The human stared at him in the darkness. After a moment, his mouth stretched across his face and he made a short breathy noise that must have been some sort of laugh. “No. Not personally.”

“But there are humans who have been struck by lightning? And they lived?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, that’s amazing!” Garn straightened back up as one of the guards at the door turned back to check on them. He waited for a while before leaning back over to speak to the human again, “Porterstone, I’ve never met a human before. I have so many questions. I wish we had met in better circumstances so we could ask them.”

“You and me both,” Porterstone chuckled.

Garn straightened up and sat silently for a bit. He reprimanded himself mentally. He meets a human and the first thing he asks is the lightning question? Really? His mind raced as he tried to pick another question, a better question. Who knew when he’d meet another human after all.

“Do you know to… uh… how to snap? I mean, snap your fingers?” Garn did his best to imitate the motion with his own large fingers. He’d heard humans could make an insanely wide range of noises, with their mouths, with their bodies, etc. They were supposedly one of the greatest mimics of the galaxy. Garn could think of so many situations of where that skill would be so useful, or even dangerous.

The human next to him just stared, an amused look of perplexion clear on his face. Finally he smiled and shook his head, his white teeth exposed and catching what little light there was around them.

“You know, of all the criminals or lawmen alike that have questioned me, you’ve definitely got the most unique style.”

“He’s just too curious for his own flargin’ good,” Arun grumbled from the other side of the bench. “It’s gonna get him killed in the end if he keeps it up.” Garn caught the sidelong glance he was shot and took it for the warning that it was.

They were silent again for a while as Garn grumpily stewed in his life to this point. He couldn’t wait to get out of here, away from the Syndicate, start his own life, have his own adventures. Instead, he was stuck doing the grunt and dirty work of the Trinn and Harrup crime lords. It was not pleasant work and often he would wake from night terrors after having to relive something he saw or had been ordered to do. He hated it. He hated all of it, but he had to stay. It was the only way he was ever going to ever be able to afford to leave. He’d get out of here. Very few ever did, but he was going to make it. He had to.

Garn was pulled out of his dreaming when he felt a gentle nudge to his arm. He looked down at Porterstone who had a sideways conspiratory grin on his face. He moved his tied up arms to draw Garn’s attention, the fingers on one hand held together oddly. With a quick move, his fingers made a soft snap sound.

“Oh, dang, hold on, that wasn’t a very good snap at all.” He readjusted his fingers and did it again, this time making a clear loud snapping sound. He chuckled at Garn’s awed reaction and snapped his fingers again in rapid succession.

“You both need to quiet down,” grumbled Arun. “You’re in enough trouble as it is, human. We’ll be arriving soon, and you’ll find there will be nothing to laugh about there.”

That stopped the talking for a while, but Garn felt more and more questions bubbling up inside him again. He had so much he wanted to say to Porter. After a few minutes of silence, he dared to risk whispering again.

“I’ve only heard stories about humans. Most of them seem too amazing to be true, but here you are, still able to move and speak after coming into contact with Nebbilin toxin. Are the rest of the stories true?”

Porterstone smiled broadly in the dim cabin light, but said nothing. Garn straightened up again as another guard checked on them, announcing that they were just about to arrive at the Syndicate headquarters before returning to their seat. The silence seemed heavier than usual to Garn. He had worked for the Trinn-Harrup for over three solar cycles now, and he had never felt such pity for a prisoner. He dreaded the idea of what would happen to this human. He looked sideways at Porterstone. The human’s smile had faded slightly, replaced now with a relaxed, almost smug expression. Garn did a double-take. How was the human so calm? Maybe he didn’t understand the full extent and breadth of what was going to happen once they reached the Syndicate?

“Garn, I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you remind me of a stuffed toy I had as a kid.” Garn turned his head sharply at Porterstone’s voice. His mind had been wandering off to the future that lay in store for this near-flippant creature at his side. When Garn didn’t respond, Porter went on, “It was one my aunt had won for me at a county fair when I was very young. It was a strange toy, we never really figured out what animal it was supposed to look like, but I loved that thing… named it fluffy, creative name, I know. I carried it wherever I went. I kept that thing for years, it’s probably still sitting somewhere in my parent’s attic for all I know.” Porter paused and sighed quietly with a smile. “Well anyway, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I guess you just look like a friend to me.”

Garn felt a mix of feelings. It seemed an odd thing to say, especially coming from a bound and tied prisoner he was guarding. He was supposed to be intimidating and scary, after all! No prisoner had ever dared speak to him like this. As a matter of fact, no prisoner had ever dared speak to him at all, beyond maybe scared whimpering. A part of Garn felt indignant at the human’s words, and yet, a small part of him felt thrilled beyond measure. And yet, a larger part of him felt overwhelmingly thrilled and surprised. He’d heard that humans could pack bond with anyone or anything given the right circumstances. Here and now seemed like the complete opposite of “right circumstances,” and yet, he couldn’t shake his feeling of joy at being considered a human’s friend. Which only made the human’s fate seem even more tragic and personal to Garn.

It certainly was a double edged sword in so many ways.

The transport ship lurched to a stop. The doors were opened by waiting Syndicate guards outside. The guards by the door jumped out, weapons at the ready as Arun and Garn escorted Porter out. Almost as soon as Porter’s feet hit the ground, the guards made the mistake of momentarily letting go of his bonds. He swept the legs out from under two of the surrounding guards. Quick to react, the remaining guards reached to grab him again, but Porterstone smack one’s hand away and looped their bound hands around the guards neck and pulled down. As the guard bent down with the human’s strong pull, their face was met with Porterstone’s rapidly rising knee. There was a disturbingly loud crunch sound as something or several somethings broke and the guard went down hard.

The human crouched down and backed up hard into a guard behind him, knocking them back before he swung his elbow hard into the side of their head. Another guard down.

The guards he had first knocked down were back up and grabbed him. After a brief struggle, they too dropped to the ground. Garn, who had still been getting out of the shuttle couldn’t see what had happened, but as he stepped out, he could see Nebbilin injection pins in the necks and arms.

Garn stared, flabbergasted at the human. He hadn’t just been exposed to the toxin, he’d been injected with it? And was still conscious? Had he pulled those out of his own skin? Those were supposed to take a medic to be removed safely! What was he thinking?!

Porterstone whipped around instinctively to square up with Garn. Garn didn’t move. Eventually Porterstone relaxed his defensive stance ever so slightly. Behind him, Garn could see more guards coming from the headquarter’s entrance. They might not have properly seen what was going on because their formation seemed formal and in no real rush just yet. That wouldn’t last long though. If Porterstone was going to get away, he had to go.

“The shuttle’s keycard should still be up front with the driver. You can still get away.”

Porterstone frowned and tensed as if he might still attack. “Why?” The guards coming up from behind must have realized something was up now, as a chorus of yells rose up for someone to call an alarm and several other voices shouting about the prisoner escaping.

The human glanced back and took a few steps toward the driver’s side of the shuttle. “Why are you helping me? You’re one of them.”

“I hate it here. I don’t want them to hurt you.” Garn’s voice seemed so quiet that he wasn’t sure if Porterstone could hear him.

He must have though because as soon as he pulled open the shuttle’s door and threw the driver out and onto the ground, he yelled back, “Get in!”

“What?”

“You’re different. I’m never wrong about my first impressions.” Porterstone struggled with trying to start the shuttle back up. Garn ran around to the door. “If you hate it here now, you’ll really hate it if they think you helped me escape, so get in.” Still the shuttle’s engines remained quiet.

Garn looked back. The guards were almost on them. A realization hit him that the only reason they hadn’t started firing at them was because they thought Garn was still trying to stop the prisoner. As soon as they realized he wasn’t on their side anymore, that would no longer be the case.

Garn turned back to Porterstone, still struggling to even get the shuttle started back up. “Move!” He shoved the human away from the controls and jumped into the seat. “I know how to drive this thing!” The side of the shuttle rocked as the other guards began opening fire. Well, they must have figured it out.

The instant the engine roared to life, Garn shoved it into gear and tore out of there. The shuttle leapt into the air before it leveled out in it’s forward momentum. Garn swerved behind a carved stone to avoid the blaster fire as he aimed the shuttle back toward the headquarters outer field entrance and gunned it.

“Pedal to the metal dude, we make it past that, we’re clear.” Porterstone stared ahead toward the security gate, which was starting to close. Garn growled. He had the shuttle’s throttle open as wide as he could, but it was going to be close. This was really happening. This was really happening! How the frewan did this happen so fast? The gates were almost shut by the time the shuttle reached them. With a loud crash, the shuttle’s motion wrenched the gate open just enough for them to rip their way through, the outer armor screaming in protest as it was gouged and ripped against the door. With a lurch, the shuttle pulled itself free and they shot out into the darkness of the night.

“Woohoo!” Porterstone howled. He slapped his still-bound hands against Garn’s shoulder, “That was amazing flying my man! Amazing! We did it!”

We did it. Garn couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Or what he was seeing. Or what he was doing. He. He was out. Oh flarg. This was happening. He was out. That’s what he’d wanted for so long, but he felt a pit in his stomach. He was out, but he was now a fugitive of the Trinn-Harrup Syndicate. He was as good as dead.

The celebrating human must have caught on to his growing terror of his realization.

“Hey, guy, don’t worry, we’re out. You don’t… you… uh… what’s your name? I need to know what to call you.”

Garn felt so tense that he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to speak, but he finally managed to say his name. Or more like whisper it. “Garn. My name’s Garn. Oh stars I’m going to die. What have I done?”

“Garn. Garn look at me. Wait, no, keep watching where you’re going. Just listen to me. You can’t go back now. You know what will happen even better than I do if you go back.” Garn tightened his hold on the steering wheel. Porterstone continued. “What’s done is done. You’re free, do you hear me? You hated that place and you’re free.”

“They’ll come for me. They’ll come for you. We’re still going to die.”

Garn could see the human in his peripheral as he sat still next to him. He sighed. “Garn?” Garn shot him a quick glance before looking back out the front of the shuttle, dodging trees and obstacles, trying to dodge and weave and stay hidden in case they were being followed. “Garn, if you want, I could use someone like you on my team. Stick with me and you’ll never have to worry about the Syndicate again.”

“They caught you before, they can do it again. You only got away because of me.”

“Exactly, and now I have you. Plus, those bounty-hunters only got me on a fluke. See if I ever enter another “art show” that rat snitch hosts again,” He muttered.

A few moments of quiet and Garn could feel the fear tension ebb out of his muscles slowly. He took a few deep breaths. Once his heart felt like it was beating at an almost normal-ish rate again, he finally spoke. “Where am I going now?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, just a bit further. I’ve got a plan.”

Garn nodded silently. After a moment, he realized something the human had said. “Wait, you said you have me?” He felt a stir of hopefulness at what that could mean.

Porterstone looked over at him again. “Oh, yeah, I mean, if you want to, that is. I could use you on my team. I think you’ll fit in, and well, there’s safety in numbers after all. You can do whatever you want though.”

Garn took another breath and nearly started laughing. Or maybe crying. He wasn’t sure, but he did manage to nod and smile. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” He could. He wanted to.

As he drove on, Porterstone would occasionally give an instruction or direction. Garn would follow silently, silently wondering and thinking of more questions he had for his new human friend, as well as marveling at the new life before him. He was free. And he had already made a powerful friend. Whatever else was ahead of him, he was happy to face it.

Part 2

#found an old story and finished it #very little editing #just going to post it #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #space #aliens #writeblr #original writing

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peachebunnys · 4 years ago

Text

Pain, with love IX

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x reader

Summary: Arranged marriages are tough, but add that with having a drug lord on the loose? Horacio Carrillo can only imagine what’s coming for him.

Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, angst, mentions of death, lots of crying

a/n: Okay so I’m really sorry for being on hiatus for a loooong time and not posting fics </3 To those that still follow me and this series, thank you so much for waiting, it really does mean a lot. I hope you like this chapter as much as I liked writing it.

6.1k words

Masterlist

Chapter 9;

The rain was pouring harder than before, masking the view of anything beyond four hundred feet, drowning out the gentle instrumental that played across the festival square. The air felt tense, holding an invisible burden that was no doubt weighing Horacio down - a silent reminder that death still awaited him. The breeze that came along with the rain was a stark contrast to the warmth in his arms, and as he pulled you closer, he reminded himself that anything he does after this moment would be done to save you.

The night was far too gentle for what was about to happen and far too unforgiving to those that will no doubt fall victim to it. What would become of this night, Horacio couldn’t fathom - but all he knew that you were safe now in his arms.

Still.

Like a single piano note echoing in a large empty room.

Though the rain was like a soothing melody on this cold night, there was a sense of dread that lurked in Horacio’s heart.

What was to happen now?

It was him against who knows how many, with two soiled pistols to defend himself with.

The risk.

Was it worth it?

It felt like everything had come to a halt, and Horacio wondered if this was what it felt like when one was minutes away from their inevitable end. Time was moving slower than before, a funny situation that Horacio had always found himself in when danger lurked around the corner. Seconds was starting to feel like minutes, which was increasingly welcomed as he tightened his hold around you.

The fact that you were here, with him, was a thought that comforted him amidst the chaos that would come sooner than he’d think. Never in his life had Horacio been so afraid to lose his life, now that he knew he truly had something to look forward to - you.

The uncertainty of how the night would unfold was hanging above his head while the rain pitter-pattered against the granite grounds. Horacio found his mind muddled with thoughts on what was to come.

If he died tonight, in a battle against the war on drugs, it’d be you he’ll last think of.

Always you.

Your cheek rested perfectly on his shoulder, finding comfort in the thick padding that was behind his uniform. The cool wind blew against your skin, a contrast to the blush that crept up your neck as Horacio continued staring into your eyes. His rough fingers grazed your soft cheeks, caressing the skin just under your eyes to wipe away the raindrops that ran down your temple. Your eyes were filled with utmost adoration that nearly broke his heart - how could you love a man like him, especially when his time was limited?

Your love for him was unconditional, a bittersweet reminder that a man as broken as he was still worthy of love. Within the few months of knowing you, the pieces of him that had been left scattered around were put back together and mended - creating a person that Horacio was surprised had even existed. Your gentle smiles and big heart was what had made him whole, and damn anyone who would think that Horacio wasn’t willing to die for you at this point.

On the night you tended to him, he had come home as a shell of a man - broken and vulnerable as he thought about how the war on drugs had taken more from him than imagined. The tough colonel facade wasn’t one he could uphold forever, and as you nursed him back to full health, he realized that he could finally be himself around you.

The warmth from you changes me, he thinks, I am not afraid anymore because you’re by my side.

The distinct sound of the tires against wet granite cracked, a noise that was no doubt getting louder as the vehicle sped faster towards the two of you.

Horacio took one final glance at you, moving his large palm away from the small of your back to rest on his pistol. The smile shared between the two of you was genuine, and you marveled at the way his eyes were lit up from the streetlights that cast a gentle orange glow on his face.

300 feet.

Because you won’t let go of my hand, you’re saving my life.

The fluorescent headlights pierced through the thick veil of rain, casting a beam that lit up Horacio’s body. He winced at the harsh lighting, instinctively coiling his other arm tightly around your back. Though the vehicle was barely visible in the heavy rain, Horacio could hear the engines roar, evidently picking up its pace towards him.

150 feet.

It was going to be too late if he didn’t act now.

Without warning, Horacio held you firmly against his chest, diving towards the empty pavement that ran parallel to the road. Bullets whizzed past the back of his head as he collapsed onto the sidewalk, buzzing louder than the tires that slid on the wet floor. The shots were imprecise, with one grazing Horacio’s left bicep as he draped over your cowered body.

Fuck!

Your heart was beating faster with each second that passed, unable to assess the situation that was happening so quickly. One minute, you were in the arms of your lover, confessing your love to each other, and the next - fearing for your lives.

Was this how he felt whenever he left for work?

Did he feel the iciness in his blood overwhelm him, each time he was closer to death?

You averted your gaze to your husband, watching his jaw clench as he turned to look at the source of the gunshots. With his large palms carefully resting on your back, you managed to slip your arms out from his embrace, resting your hands gently on his arms.

Despite the rain, your clothes hadn’t been soaked just yet, with only the back of your dress sticking against your skin. You felt an odd dampness that painted your fingers red, searing your skin as you gazed upon the liquid that smeared across your fingers. This was the telltale sign that whatever fight the two of you have been caught between, was no normal one.

Your voice wavered, words choking as you barely got his attention, “H-Horacio, you- you’re bleeding.” You turned your right hand to study the blood that was now mixed with the raindrops. The thick liquid dripped down your palms and onto your wrist, imprinting the color onto your skin. Your heart rate spiked, and you could feel your head spin with whatever was happening.

This wasn’t like that night.

The two of you were crouching beside a red car that was parked along the walkway, and as your mind raced at what was to happen, the sound of tires came to a screeching halt. The high pitched sound was almost deafening, causing Horacio to instinctively tuck your head under his chin. His large palm covered your ear fully, and you could feel the warmth radiate off his skin.

Amidst the rain that was visibly lessening, there were unintelligible shouts that came from the vehicle. The source of it was unknown to you, but from the look on Horacio’s face, you could only tell it wasn’t from someone good.

Horacio’s hands were still wrapped around your back, eyes shifting quickly to assess his surroundings. His breaths were starting to get labored, with beads of sweat trickling down his temple. With each exhale he had let out, there was a cloud of mist that formed, illuminated by the streetlights.

The rain had finally stopped, and the heat that remained was starting to get uncomfortable with each passing moment. You tried to regulate your breathing, taking short, deep breaths as your mind blocked out the continuous threats from behind.

“You can’t run nor hide Colonel! You will pay for what you’ve done to me, I will kill you.”

Horacio could hear you suck in another breath, trembling in his arms as he thought of ways out of a situation like this. He moved his hand away from your face to gently hold your hand, pulling your attention away from the chaos around you.

“Hey,” Horacio whispered, eyes filled with determination as he gently kissed your palms, "Whatever you do, I want you to promise me -”

Crash

The car windows above you shattered as the glass poured all over the two of you.

Both of you ducked to escape the impact, finding tiny glass pieces littered all over your hair and shoulders. It glistened as the lights shined on them, creating a beautiful reflection that was a mixture of emerald green and tangerine.

To find beauty in chaos; how ironic, seeing that this may ultimately lead to your untimely deaths.

“Whatever you do, don’t leave this position,” Horacio’s eyes were now wide with fear, gripping your forearms roughly before moving over to fish out his pistol. You quickly brushed the loose strands out of your face and nodded, palms getting sweaty from the fear that engulfed you. Horacio leaned his back firmly against the wheel of the car, occasionally peeking out to check where the vehicle was parked. Each time his head turned to get a view of the truck, there was a shot fired soon after, accompanied by a peal of maniacal laughter that seemed to get louder with each gunshot.

“Come out Colonel! I don’t want to hurt that pretty wife of yours, it’d be a shame if someone as weak as her were to be left defenseless.”

Horacio could feel his blood boil, fingers trembling as he loaded the ammunition into his pistol. His cheeks were now rosy, contrasting against his paling, sweaty skin as his anger heightened. The voice, low and croaky, was distinctively the man that Horacio had thrown in jail just a few months prior. As he took one last glance over his shoulder, he reminded himself that this fight was between the drug lord and him alone.

His heart ached, and Horacio was once again reminded of the reasons he had turned away from your love the night you had confessed.

Danger. Death. Blood. Fear.

These were the things that inevitably followed behind him, like an inconceivable mass that floated around his being - sucking out the energy and joy from him. He didn’t want this for you, to shoulder his burden with him. He was a liability, he thought, that would create more pain than happiness.

But that was never the case.

Your presence in his life alone was like a beacon of hope, and he knew now that you were always his saving grace. How was it that one simple continuous act of kindness had saved him from himself? It dawned on him that on the very night he had come home from the raid, your stubbornness to treat and care for him was the first hit to the walls he had built over the years.

Butterfly effect.

Just as he was about to peek over the hood of the car, you forcefully yanked him back, feeling your heart hammer in your chest as you watched your husband eye you with surprise. “What are you doing?” Your panicked whisper had earned yet another gunshot through the window, missing you by a foot. You quickly let go of Horacio’s arm, covering your hands over your mouth to mask the surprised squeak that came after the loud blast.

“Y/N, listen to me - please, I don’t want you getting hurt. I'll drive him away from this car, and I want you to run as far as you can, away from this place.”

“Where the fuck,”

The car that was parked behind the one you sought refuge beside had its windscreen shot out and shattered. The impact alone had caused an explosion of glass pieces, some of which tore through your skin as it flew out.

“- are you, Colonel? Didn’t take you for a coward that would hide in the face of danger!”

“Horacio, I won’t leave y-” The look on your face - the fear mixed with anxiety mirrored the feelings that were starting to manifest within him, but in a time like this, Horacio had to remind himself to be the stronger person for the both of you. Your fingers were once again wrapped around his forearm, fingertips becoming icy as the fear settled in you.

You could lose him.

“Please,” Horacio’s eyes were glassy, begging you to comply with his request as he made a plan to distract the drug lord behind him. “Please, my love.”

“Just this once, I promise.”

You stared at the man you loved so dearly, feeling your heart break as you noticed a waiver in his voice. His Adam's apple bobbed as his eyes jumped around the features of your face. The man that you’ve always known to be fierce and courageous now kneeled beside you, begging for you to leave as he faced death once more.

He could die today.

And this would be the last time he’d see you.

“Y/-”

His words were cut short by the kiss that practically took his breath away. You gently pressed your lips against his, feeling the plushness mold onto you. He tasted like mint, a candy you noticed he’d pop into his mouth whenever he was stressed or nervous. You cupped his warm face, brushing away the hairs that stuck against his forehead.

Sweet. And far too short.

Just like your time together.

The tears in your eyes rolled down your cheek while your lips trembled as you pulled away from your husband. Your vision was clouded, with more tears dripping each time you blinked. You dropped your line of sight to look at Horacio’s large hands wrapping around your smaller ones, gently rubbing circles around your knuckles. With a soft chuckle, he moved closer to kiss your damp cheek, planting a soft peck before whispering in a hushed tone.

“I love you.”

As soon as those words rolled out of his mouth, Horacio turned his back towards you, cocking his gun to point at the man before him. He had fired the first shot, which you could only assume was unsuccessful from the way he cursed under his breath. There was a series of bullets that came shortly after, firing through the empty car beside you.

A faint smell of smoke was starting to fill the air, fueling the tension that was building up. Horacio tilts his head towards the end of the road, silently gesturing for you to run in that direction. The engines of the truck had started up again, with the loud vibrations from under the hood killing the silence.

You took this opportunity to make a run for it, racing down the pavement as fast as you can. The streetlights were few and far in between, allowing you to hide in the dark and away from plain sight. The wind had caused the pooling beads of sweat to drip faster down your face, causing a slightly ticklish sensation while you ran away from the parked truck.

“Wh-”

The windscreen of the car beside you had shattered, naturally making you dodge as the loud shot echoed through the night. Your heart leaped out of your chest, catching itself in your throat as you fell against the wet cement sidewalk. The festival across the street was now deserted, for all the locals had fled the scene as soon as the first shot went off. The place was a complete ghost town, plagued by a sense of dread and eeriness and it was only heightened by the death that awaited you.

Soft, up-beat instrumental music was playing on the speakers across the festival grounds, easing your nerves by a tinge as you scoured for a place to hide behind. A second gunshot was heard, accompanied by a piercing scream that rang in your ears.

Horacio?

The screeching of tires came next, dragging across the wet roads to gain traction. There was no telling which direction the vehicle was moving, which led to you to hide behind the back of another car. Bullets were fired again, with the loud bang penetrating through the humidity. The truck had lost control of its back wheels, crashing straight into the wall next to the festival grounds.

Smoke emitted from the hood of the truck, dancing with the wind that was a stark contrast to the scorching weather. There was a certain tension amidst the air, so thick that Horacio almost felt like it was suffocating him. The wound from his arm was bleeding out, soaking his uniform in a shade of dark red. The impact of the shot to his arm had led him to tumble backward, twisting his ankle in a manner that was less than pleasant.

The sickening smell of death had lingered in the air, making him wonder if it was his that it was foreshadowing. With great grit and determination, Horacio hobbled across the road and towards the wrecked vehicle. With each step he took, there was a faint crunching sound that came with the pressure of his boots against the wet granite.

Sweat trickled down his forehead, diluting the blood that painted the side of his face. He took a glance at you, studying the way you were crouched beside a car further down the street. Your breathing was regulated, as far as he could tell, and that gave him some peace of mind, knowing that you were okay. With trembling arms, he could vaguely see you hoist yourself up from the ground, staring straight back at him.

The night had become eerily silent, save for the truck’s engine that gently hummed in a rhythmic beat. Horacio looked back at you, noticing the way your hair was in complete disarray. Your eyes were wide with fear, which barely subsided once you noticed the state of the truck after the accident. Horacio was a good 150 feet away from you, holding up his left palm as a gesture to stay back. You were now trembling from the cold rather than fear, watching the way your husband hobbled across the street towards the partially wrecked vehicle.

You slowly crawled around the empty car next to you, kneeling just behind the boot to get a glimpse of what was to happen. Your dress was now completely ruined, with several holes and tears that littered along the hem and sleeves. You messily pushed the stray strands out of your face, leaning slightly to the side of the headlights to peek at the accident that had just happened.

The back of the car was cold, further freezing up your fingertips as you positioned yourself properly so that only half your face was visible from the backlights of the car. With each step Horacio took, the next one came as a limp. It was clear that his right foot was injured, and you only prayed that it wouldn’t cost him his life at this moment. In his right hand was his pistol, cocked and ready to fire as he carefully stalked towards the vehicle. The truck was in your line of sight, giving you the ability to study the driver’s seat as Horacio continued moving towards it. There were faint movements that came from the dull figure, but as your husband crept next to the front door, you could slowly make out that the man was reaching out for something.

Horacio propped himself up as he stepped on the mini step outside the door, peeking into the vehicle through the wind-down windows. Gacha, from a motionless state, had sprung alive - pointing a gun directly into Horacio’s face. Without a second to spare, he punched the drug lord’s wrists in an attempt to weaken the hold on the pistol. The action alone had caused the criminal to pull the trigger, firing a bullet mere inches away from Horacio’s face.

The sound that emitted from the now piping hot weapon had momentarily caused Horacio to lose his hearing in his left ear. There was a constant and sharp ringing that stung, causing him to wince and throw his head back. This moment of vulnerability had allowed Gacha to butt the back of his weapon against Horacio’s right cheek.

The flurry of emotions that evoked as soon as the pistol broke his skin had fuelled his wrath against the drug lord. The cut across his nasal bridge was long and deep, which had only come about after a soft crackling sound. Horacio’s nose started to bleed, painting his upper lip with red that saw no end. The anger that brewed from the pain had caused Horacio to retaliate - punching the other man right in the face.

The blow was a hard one, filled with all the might that Horacio could muster from his injured right hand. It had momentarily knocked Gacha out, which was the window that allowed Horacio to drag him out of the vehicle and throw him onto the cold hard ground. The other man had fallen face first, with his face grazing the uneven road harshly.

You have never seen your husband in such a state before - with eyes that fired up with anger, along with a stance that you knew meant danger. You were still crouched behind the car across the deserted street, shivering as you watched the situation before you unfold. The drug lord’s back was turned towards you, slowly backing away as Horacio stalked towards him. The streetlight shined perfectly onto your husband’s face, illuminating the wounds littered across his cheeks and nose.

The atmosphere was one that you weren’t familiar with - thick and heavy with tension, along with the faint smell of gasoline that hung above you. You carefully shifted your weight onto your other foot, popping your head out from behind the tail lights to get a better view. With a gun in one hand, and blood soaking the other, Horacio looked more like death himself. The sight was utterly terrifying, and as you studied the way he circled the criminal with his weapon drawn, you couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that came.

This wasn’t the man you knew.

This wasn’t the man you fell in love with.

You think back to the night he had come stumbling home, covered in bruises and cuts. The raid that he had conducted was successful, but as you watched him grit his teeth towards the drug lord, you wondered how much blood had stained his hands that night. His shoulders were squared, standing upright while positioning the gun at the other man’s chest. You always knew that his work would demand him to do such heinous activities, but never once did it occur to you that you’d live to see it happening before your eyes.

The very same hands that held you as you cried to sleep were now seconds away from taking a life. Sure, the man who was sprawled before him was a despicable one without a doubt, but the fact that he could comfort you as easily as he killed was something you couldn’t shake off. You opted to remain silent, realizing it was best to blend into the night as your husband fulfilled his vow to keep the city safe from these criminals.

To fulfill the oath he had taken when he donned the uniform that symbolized the protection of this country.

With slow, deliberate breaths, you managed to regulate your heartbeat, feeling it return to normal as opposed to the thunderous hammering against your chest. The night was starting to become warmer, with the stars sparkling to create a magnificent view. There was an exchange of muffled words, ones that had you straining yourself to get a better hearing. You could tell that Gacha’s breathing was starting to become unstable, coughing up blood every so often.

Horacio’s voice was stern and hushed, warning the man in front of him before moving his index finger onto the trigger. There was a hearty chuckle that came soon after, broken and loud as the drug lord internalized Horacio’s threats.

“This isn’t the end Colonel Carrillo, like they always say - death is only the beginning.”

The man, with his palms laid flat against the ground behind him, had quickly reached out to something kept firmly against the back of his pants. Everything happened too quickly, and the sound of a bullet being fired had involuntarily made you duck. You had barely caught sight of what had happened, as it moved within a split second.

There was a shuffle of uneven footsteps, with no particular rhythm as the scraping of the shoes’ sole dragged against the pavement. As you slowly removed your cupped hands away from your ears, you glanced up to see Horacio standing as still as a statue. His eyes darted across the ground, blinking slowly - almost as if he was registering what had happened. His face was starting to lose its color, which was increasingly visible as the warm orange streetlight cast its glow onto him.

The weapon in his right hand had dropped, clanking against the ground as his eyes widened in horror. His knees were bent by a fraction, no longer carrying that confident stance he had just moments prior. With unsteady hands, his arm had moved up towards his stomach, mouth gaping as he firmly held his palms against his body.

He stumbled back again, locking eyes with the drug lord as his breathing became labored. The next thing you noticed was the chortle that came from the man that laid across him, holding a smoking gun directed at your husband gleefully.

“You’re regretting this, aren’t you?” The pistol was directed towards your husband’s chest. The two men were standing a few feet apart, with Horacio’s face filled with defeat. You could barely hold in your whimpers, studying the way your husband’s body was slowly collapsing against the cold ground. Your heart was thumping in your chest, with blood turning ice-cold as you continued watching the scene unfold before you.

You could run in to help him, to tackle the drug lord while his back was still faced towards you. But what good would that do? You were defenseless and weak, with nothing to fend yourself against a vengeful criminal. The weather was starting to get warmer, leaving no traces of the rain that poured an hour before. Your vision was slowly getting blurry from the tears that welled in your eyes.

It felt like there was barbed wire wrapped around your throat, hindering your ability to breathe. Everything felt like it was suffocating you, with each breath you took hurting.

Was this it?

To watch your husband die minutes after he confessed his love?

It was twisted - cruel, sickening, and twisted. Your whole body trembled as you muffled the sobs that choked out. With eyes burning and bloodshot, you strained to look at your lover - for it may be the last time you could do so.

“Not even the slightest.”

Horacio’s broken words rang in your ears, forcing you to look up at him through your blurred vision. He was looking right back at you, forming the barest smile on his face as he continued clutching his torso. His eyes were locked with yours, filled with utmost adoration even as he stared death in the face.

“H-Horacio,” your voice cracked, choking as your throat felt tighter. “Please.”

Bang.

You watched as your husband flew back from the impact, body crashing against the wet ground as the shot fired straight into his chest. His back scraped against the uneven road, creating a crackling sound that seemed to echo in your ears. You could hear his gasps for air, chest heaving from the force of the shot.

Still.

Like a single piano note that echoed in an empty room.

What this night had turned out to be, wasn’t what anyone had imagined. As you crouched behind a car, you watched as your husband lived his last few minutes before death. Your fingers dug into the bumper, scratching against the metal until the paint came off.

You couldn’t bear to watch, not when the final gunshot would no doubt be through Horacio’s body. “I love you,” you turned your head away, staring at the wet granite. You clutched the bumper tighter, bracing the loud gunshot that would pierce through the night.

“What are you looking a-”

Crack.

There it was.

A loud pierce that destroyed the silence of the night.

The heavy sound of a body falling slammed against the ground. Your head instinctively curled into your arm, coiling into a ball and you sobbed against your sleeves. Your whole body trembled, heart breaking into pieces that tore you apart.

This was it, he was gone.

You haphazardly wiped your nose and eyes, getting rid of the tears that stained your cheeks. You were still in the way of danger, with Gacha on the loose. With no one left to fend you with, your only hope was yourself - and you had to think fast. Without looking at the area where your husband once was, you quickly grabbed your purse, struggling to stand up and move.

You softly cursed yourself for wearing heels, realizing it wasn’t the best footwear to run in, especially when you were escaping a notorious drug lord. The clasp of the heels had come off rather easily, and you tossed them under the car before moving to crawl away from the line of sight.

As your knees met the hard road, you could feel your skin pierce with pain - feeling the coolness of the ground draw blood from your skin. You had let out a soft gasp, trembling as the thick red liquid coursed down your leg. The gentle breeze did nothing but alleviate the stress you felt, causing goosebumps in its wake.

You had almost reached the side of the car until you heard a soft gasp for your name. Grief-stricken, you shrugged it off as a figment of your imagination - not wanting to delude yourself into things that may slow down your escape. You continued crawling down the street, parallel to the accident that had just taken place.

Your breathing was a mess, with a mixture of short and deep breaths that were knocking more wind out of your lungs. You heard it again - the hushed cries for you, laced with worry and sadness.

It sounded like Horacio.

You quickly wiped the snot that dripped down your nose, turning to cast a wary look at the truck. You were directly across that road, giving you the ability to see the whole scene between the gap of two cars’ bumper.

Your heart plummeted as you caught sight of Horacio’s outstretched hand, reaching out to you as he called your name once again. His voice was now broken and lost, trembling as your name rolled off his tongue.

Across him was the now still drug lord, sprawled across the ground in a pool of blood. The sight itself was horrifying, choking a loud gasp as you internalized what had happened.

Horacio was still alive.

His drooping eyes were fixated on you, watching you from the distance as he continued moaning out your name into the night. The gears in your head were shifting, unable to comprehend the scene before you.

The bullet didn’t kill Horacio.

The bullet came from him.

His chest rumbled as he coughed out blood, shoulders trembling from the force. He was laying on the hard ground, barely propping himself up with the arm that was injured.

“Y/—“

You didn’t have time to think, only knowing that your feet had carried you to him. Your mind was a mess, with none of your thoughts comprehensible enough to understand. Your hands hadn’t stopped shaking, dripping with blood that you weren’t sure belonged to you. Horacio’s breathing was labored and slow, heaving every so often. His temples were painted red, with his blood dripping along his hairline as he smiled weakly at you.

You leaned in close to him, gently clutching his shoulder as you continued sobbing into his chest. His warm hand rested against your head, gently running his fingers along the side of your face. The same hands that pulled the trigger, were now comforting you as you anticipated what was to come.

The irony.

Horacio was a strong man, and as you saw the series of events that had unfolded earlier, you wondered if the weight on his shoulders was more than he had led you to believe. Did it plague his mind, of the blood that stained his fingers, of the men he had killed?

Was he ever afraid that he might never make it out of this job alive?

You thought back to the night you cried into his arms, similar to how it was now. With unsteady hands, you fished out your phone from your purse, unable to dial the right numbers as tears fell against the device.

“It- It’s going to be,” you glanced up at Horacio, watching blood drip down the corner of his lips, “-okay.”

You dialed the number for the ambulance, sobbing unintelligibly into the phone. Horacio’s eyes were starting to droop, unable to maintain eye contact with you as you provided the details to where you were. As soon as the other end hung up, you dropped your phone and cupped his face, smiling hesitantly as your thumb brushed off the thick red liquid that oozed from the cuts on his face.

Horacio reached out to your hand, bringing it closer to his cold lips before planting a gentle kiss. The tears on your face had now flowed freely, and you hiccupped your pleads as he continued kissing your knuckles.

“H-Horacio please, you can’t die. Please, not now- not right now.”

Your cries were masked with broken sobs and choked tears, running your hands along his dry canvas uniform. You subconsciously stopped at the bullet hole, circling the tear in the uniform with your index finger. Your vision was once again blurry, mind muddled with thoughts on how you’d lose him any second.

The blood on your fingers tints the military green shirt, soaking the relatively clean clothing.

“W-wait,” your voice breaks, and you quickly wipe the tears from your eyes.

“You-you’re, you’re not bleeding.”

Horacio lets out a soft chuckle that quickly turns into a pained groan. With his dirty, wounded hands, he slowly unbuttoned his top, gently pulling apart at the buttons to expose the bulletproof vest that was donned on him.

“You--” Your mind spun, unable to register what was happening.

What the fuck?

“You fucking idiot!” Your cries were now louder, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

You gently pushed his arm away from you, still recovering from everything that happened throughout the night. You ran your hand over his uniform again, smiling with glee as you realized that he was going to make it.

The night was cool now, carrying a comforting breeze that dried your tears. The air no longer carried the smell of gasoline, but with the faint smell of damp grass. Crickets from nearby trees chirped, returning back the sanctuary of the night. There was no longer the imminent threat that lurked around you, giving you back that peace of mind.

You glanced back at Horacio, watching him look back at you with love and adoration. His grip on your hands tightened, rubbing comforting circles on the back of your palm as support. How the two of you had made it out of this alive, you couldn’t fathom.

But despite everything, it only proved that your love was stronger than any force that reckoned with it. As Horacio brought your palm up to his lips again, he thought back to how you were always his beacon of hope. His person that he wanted to come back to.

“I promised you that I’ll come back to you, didn’t I?”

His eyes were once again glassy, and he kissed your thumb as you brushed across it. The love between the two of you, though barely spoken about, was immeasurable. Another tear spilled down your cheek, and you silently thanked the heavens that your lover managed to make it out alive.

What was to happen next was unknown to both of you, but you knew that together, you’d be able to overcome anything. You slowly nodded, voice breaking again as you agreed with him.

“Yes,” you smiled, “ you did.”

#horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo imagine #narcos #peachebunnys fic

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deathisanartmetzli · 3 years ago

Text

Cabin in the Woods || Eilidh & Metzli

TIMING: Current, at night

PARTIES: @BRAINDEACL @DEATHISANARTMETZLI

SUMMARY: Metzli goes on the hunt for some vampires, and Macleod joins in on the fun.

CONTAINS: Domestic abuse, Emotional Abuse, Gore

Despite Metzli’s best efforts to quash any sense of anxiety that built up like a mountain on their chest, the pressure only seemed to build. After the pleasurable moments of distraction, laying in the dirt, surrounded by nature, they wished they could go back to that. Laying there with Eilidh was easy, it felt like it was a grace to not linger like a tragedy in slow motion, or a heartbreak set on pause. They walked next to Eilidh, tracking the scent of the vampires. It started so faint, and within an hour, it had thickened and spread around.

Eloy would inevitably find Metzli, even if they took out the vampires they were attempting to find. They were just prolonging the ending they already played in their head on repeat. Like a video cassette they kept rewinding of a movie that had not even been made yet. But they persisted, and used the martial arts approach to protecting their world. Fear and anger were their self defense as they disregarded the cost of going against their once master. No running, just going forward to protect. Because nothing was more precious. It was priceless. It was their home.

“The scent is overwhelming all around. They must scavenge and frequent this whole area. How do you feel about splitting up? The scent is pretty evenly coated and has been for the last few hundred paces.” Metzli explained and looked towards Eilidh, who was only a foot away. “What do you think?”

The trees watched them transgress in their territory. Gaze always, usually, a comfort for as long as Eilidh could remember. And they had felt as such, only moments prior. In those pleasant pauses. But now their presence felt scrutinizing. Tainted by the tense energy in air, radiating off Metzli. Bouncing off that bark, ricocheting down on Eilidh. She watched them with a hidden caution. Their high nerves concealed with a stoned expression. But every box got its leaks. She saw those tremors in hands, those strained breaths in chest. Soldier set to war. Without a choice but to move forward into certain peril. Eilidh had that choice, but she matched those dreaded steps. Hers tensed with anger and a hunger to rip and shred. Send those sources of anxiety to floor in tattered bits—reduced to confetti. And to sprinkles down her throat.

Eilidh saw those nose twitches. At first light but sent to frenzy as unseen predators grew closer. Her own stayed still—unaware of any approaching danger. Her mouth twitched instead, turned to grin. “Like I said. You go right. I go left.” Eyes went to that chosen destination. Only darkness met them, but mind filled in the blanks. Placed those hidden enemies in sights. Sent her hand a twitch in anticipation. Her chest rumbling in hunger. Her attentions went back to Metzli for a moment. Enough to spare a parting kiss. And to press her hand on their chest. To that concealed gift—necklace with a black pendant. A bit off her thigh providing color. Used as both beacon and reminder. That she’ll always be close, even now, when she turned and raced off into the woods. Before the darkness took her, she shouted behind. “Don’t let ‘em kill you! I’ll be pissed!”

It felt strange to receive a tender kiss from someone who used so much force, so much passion. Eilidh had given them a gift, one they were told to keep on in case of any danger. James, the ghost bound to her, who seemed antsy when they presented red eyes and fangs, he would be their walkie talkie of sorts. A piece of her attached to them so he could aid them in their search. “No promises!” Metzli responded just as loudly, and with as much light energy as they could muster. Eilidh faded into the trees, and they watched for a few moments before they turned around and continued down their chosen path. Blood and death overflowed from every tree, meaning that the clan members had been around long enough to hunt several times. That didn’t sit right with them in the slightest.

“So how long have you been, uh, dead? I think I’m going on 110 years or so. Kinda lost track.” Metzli asked awkwardly, not knowing how to talk to someone who they didn’t know and seemed to get nervous at any signs of their vampirism.

James watched Eilidh disappear. Despite the lack of visual, he knew where she journeyed. Not a feeling or a thought. But something even deeper. Like he was a passenger in her mind. His attentions shifted and felt that knowing grow quiet but not disappear. Eyes went to one more tangible, to the one called Metzli. He knew nothing but stories. But the way Eilidh described them, the way her eyes lit up. It was in the way when she found others with that ‘touch of the wild’ as she so called it. And it made him on edge. While he lacked any sort of flesh and blood the vampire could attack, he tensed. For his body remembered, despite his true one having rotted to nothing long ago. And he tried to bury this concern, like that old body. But Metzli would not let the thought of death escape him. There was a following silence as he gawked at them. “Um. That’s not really a conversational topic I start with…” His arms crossed against his chest, as if that incorporeal barrier could do anything.

Face grew dark and tense as leaves and twigs crunched, marking every step they took. There was no avoiding it, but it made them flinch every time. Giving away their position would prove fatal, but the area was chosen for that reason. Keen hearing was not only their ally, but their enemy too. Metzli trudged on for about twenty minutes, following tracks and carcasses that grew in number. Meaning, they were getting closer. Their phone vibrated with notifications, and they removed it from their pocket to see a few messages. Feet continued to move while they were distracted by the screen and James’ incoming answer. “Sorry. I’m not good at conversation starters. I figured it was fine, you know? Death, and me being a vampire. I mean, vampires are vicious, but you like Milo and he attacked our friend Bex the other day. But like she’s fine and—” They gave an update until their peripherals caught sight of an anomaly. A cabin. “Que suerte...”

James wanted to leave. Not that Eilidh was particularly better in regard to source of his anxieties. But she was a monster he knew well—knew how to talk to. And had grown to care for, despite his better judgement. And he had grown to care for Milo as well with a hope he could escape that nature. Young and new with the thought of humanity still fresh on his mind. But the news broke that illusion. Not immediately, only a crack at first. Denial trying to keep the wall up. Mind went blank. Then it was all too much. “What… what? No. He- No he didn’t.” He stammered, something of a laugh on his lips though he felt no amusement. Mouth couldn’t form words just as mind couldn’t form thoughts. Sailboat lost to a raging sea. Trying to steer clear, but he was close to drowning. Before he could be swept under, before that wall could break—he vanished.

Eyes were transfixed by the cabin, by the sheer amount of death permeating from within. Even with blurred sight from distraction, they could see James on the other side of their peripherals, he was saying something but they couldn’t make out what. There had to be at least six vampires within the residence, and that took precedence over his sudden disappearance. While their fingers hovered over the screen of their phone, something knocked them down. Someone.

Phone flew several feet away, but that wasn’t important now. A whistle of alarm reverberated against the trees, and Metzli pulled out a stake from their side and plunged it into the vampire, killing him and cutting the whistle short. It was too late though, and they could hear a door break open. Gaze locked onto four vampires sprinting from the cabin straight for them. Matching their vigor, Metzli booked it towards one and plunged the stake into her chest. Another one down. Only five more to go. The three that were left leapt for them, trying to overwhelm them. It worked, but by some miracle, the stake plunged into yet another chest, leaving only two to land punch after punch on them.

Two more vampires stepped out from the cabin, and Metzli was forced to watch as a familiar face got dangerously close to theirs. Fighting back was futile while their head was being held up by their hair and their arms were locked behind them. “Hola Metzli. Hace mucho tiempo.” Tremors overtook their body as they stared right into the vampire’s eyes. The vampire who was their partner when it came to protecting Eloy. “Chinga tu pinche madre, Anselmo.” They spat through gritted teeth, right before a bone crunching punch to the face.

Blip! Blink of an eye, James was back. Face still contorted as mind could not see past that unresolved conversation. That wall gaining new cracks—close to shattering. “Was that just a, um, weird joke or something because I didn’t think it was funny and I’d really like it if you- Oh!” More eyes than expected were watching him. He stared with just his two. Then vanished again.

Another punch landed onto their face, and Anselmo laughed. “Did you really think you could run away? Did you really think Master Eloy would let you go?” Metzli locked eyes with the vampire and spat at him. Black blood spattered over his face and rage filled his eyes. “Fuck you, and fuck Eloy!” Metzli retaliated, lunging forward and breaking the grasp that held their hair. Forehead met nose and Anselmo screamed in agitation. Using the moment of distraction, they grabbed the stake from the ground and took out yet another vampire. Three left to go. But just as the point rushed around to make impact with the other, Anselmo’s hand wrapped around Metzli’s, giving him the chance to throw them on the ground.

Their face hurt, and the pain spread throughout their body as he pinned them down and attacked their throat. Red eyes locked only momentarily right before teeth sank in, threatening to dig deeper. Deeper and deeper, Anselmo attempted to sever the attachment their head held onto their body. Metzli was going to break their promise. The fear of that grew as their strength depleted, unable to make their arms do anything. They had taken too much damage, they needed blood.

The scent of death was potent. But there was one who did not match. A flat note in the choir. And growing louder. Closer. Threatening to ruin the whole show. But the show only faltered for a moment, something of a reprieve found in their brief consideration. Barely a murmur was uttered—something deeper transpired between the vampires. An understanding was found in that veiled conference, quick and efficient to not distract from the main course. Not a moment wasted, Anselmo simply waved a vampire off before following that motion down into a strike upon Metzli. The chosen protector, or chosen sacrifice depending on the point-of-view, followed that clashing note. Foxhound on the fox. But this fox knew how to bite back. And when he found the source of distraction, woman with the chattering teeth, he came to understand just how hard.

Eilidh threw the stake in her hand. It whistled through the air, ending in a meaty thud. Coming to a quick stop inside the vampire’s chest. He had only a second to stare at her in confusion before crumpling. Dead. Stride merely slowing, Eilidh fished out the stake from his remains. Then regained her former speed, as inhuman as the glint in her eyes. Feet beat fast but light on the ground. If she was devoid of that telling scent she may have been able to ambush. But they would be waiting for her, she was sure of it. She had known even before the encounter in the woods. But time and experience had revealed tricks against that pesky disadvantage.

As that foreign scent became church bells, all those bloodthirsty eyes turned to meet it. Something humanoid, something familiar, was the expectation. A known enemy they had all replayed in their minds killing with a familiarity. What stood at the treeline had the shape of a human. Kind of. If the outline had been filled with static. The touch of mundanity made where it differed all the more jarring. All parties stood still. Until a single “¡¿Que demonios es eso?!” broke them out that trance. One vampire ran to meet the thing in the woods. But his pace was weighed with hesitation: could this thing even be killed? Eilidh rumbled with a metallic shriek—undecided form convulsing in beat. And when her arm struck out to stake this one’s chest, it looked more tree than limb. He fell as fast as the one in the woods. Returned to the Earth.

Anselmo laughed as weak arms could not grip, could not gather enough leverage to shove him off. Photos were taken unbeknownst to them, and sent off. Evidence of their struggle. Metzli grew worried that they wouldn’t be able to manage. People have hope because they cannot see death standing behind them. But not Metzli. Their eyes had been ingrained on death’s visage, losing all hope in the process. Never fearing death because it was the one thing they could count on. But White Crest had given them everything they needed to want to look away from those hollow eyes. And as reality settled in, darkness consumed their sight. A muffled and distant voice growled. Eilidh’s scent filled their nose. Metzli began to imagine what hope would feel like. And wish that they had never looked death in the eyes. That way, they could be blissfully unaware. So they didn’t have to feel, for the very first time, the fear of dying.

The punching and biting ceased as Anselmo and two other vampires Metzli didn’t notice before, looked towards Eilidh. What they believed to be Eilidh. A sharp pain caused them to groan, and even through hazy vision, they could see two knives inside of their torso. Anselmo rose off of them and leered at the crazed undead creature before him. His body was rigid, unsure what to make of the foul thing before him. This was the break Metzli needed. Looking down at the knives, they attempted to raise their arms, which were feeling like they weighed tons. And then, one of the knives came into focus. It was their old knife. The one Eloy made for them. The one they used to fight with.

Anger surfaced onto Metzli’s face and a newfound resolve formed in their chest. Fighting against the hunger and pain, they removed the knives jutting out of them, and rose to their stumbling feet, tackling Anselmo to the ground. Fangs and knife pierced skin. A foul taste filled their mouth, but they didn’t care. All that mattered were the screams of pain and the knife that plunged into Anselmo over and over again until he knocked them back, looming over them to once again gain the upper hand.

Another quickly took her opponent's place, but this vampire was faster than that amalgamated arm. Ensnaring Eilidh in her grip. Hands grappled hands, grappled bodies. Her stake tumbled to the grass in the fervorous skirmish. A third noticed the vulnerability, and made quick to exploit. Rushing into the fray, two against one. But it was actually two against two. The second was enveloped in a strange feeling. A foreign pressure. A lingering cold. Enough to preoccupy for mere seconds, but each counted in a fight. Eilidh shifted her weight, brought that first opponent—still trapped in each other’s holds—closer to chattering teeth. And they did as nature intended. Bit and tear. Severing any connection her nose had to her face. It too tumbling into the grass. Overwhelmed with pain, enough constitution was lost to let Eilidh get closer. And those bloodied teeth found her neck. And bit equally as hard. With mouth at work, Eilidh’s hand was free to slip up skirt. Gripping tight a silver dagger. Blade met the vampire’s neck on opposite side, until her incisors and metal joined in the middle.

With a twitch, Eilidh severed the last remaining tendons connecting neck to torso. The head rolled off with ease, joining its nose on the ground. James’ trick had gone stale and the third vampire was ready to try his chances. Eyes free from the glaze of distraction, completely locked on her. But her own was placed elsewhere, far away. To the confrontation between Metzli and that stranger. She didn’t like how Metzli looked. She didn’t like how this man looked at them. Not one fucking bit. A snarl burned in her throat, but it sounded like chainsaws to any near. The vampire closest tried to be a substitute for her broiling anger. He pounced at her, but she simply shoved him into the dirt. Hardly a thought to make sure he wasn’t following when she rushed to the distant altercation. Before the stranger was able to fully turn, confront that approaching death, she leapt onto his exposed back. Arms looping around his shoulders—stifling any movement. He bucked and shrieked like a wild stallion, but she had encountered worse. Those arms only grew tighter. Teeth tried to find that neck, but it jerked out of hold. Accidentally meeting an ear instead. Incisors latched on anyway, ripping off the flesh and cartilage. The shrieking grew louder. Her own primal sounds filled that air, in lieu of words. Mind having no room to translate. But there was still an intention in each grunt. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.

Wide eyes stared as Anselmo could no longer move. Eilidh’s firm and powerful grasp held him in place and he wailed in agony as a piece of him was torn away. “M-Macleod...I—” Metzli shook uncontrollably. Understanding washed over their face, but they couldn’t move, couldn’t force their body to lunge forward with the knife in their hand. A slippery grip tightened around it, beckoning them to do it. To kill their partner of thirty years. The very partner who had sworn to protect their abuser with them. No more. Those days were over and a new one was on the horizon. Finding the motivation, they rose to their feet, only swaying slightly.

“Todo lo que nos enseño Eloy fue malo. Y ahora, voy cambiar a todo.” The knife plunged into the center of Anselmo’s chest and he gasped with the widest eyes. His eyes met with Metzli’s for a split moment before he crumbled into nothing. As pieces of him fell, so too did Metzli. A hand reached out for Eilidh, but contact was never made. Their body gave way to the crushing pain, forcing them to the ground. Neck revealed the damage, the death they almost met. Black liquid stained their skin.

In spite of the overwhelming agony, a weight was lifted, and a piece of them felt free. “Thanks Mac—” Their hand reached out but fell to the ground as spots of black coated everything in sight. “Need blood.” Metzli’s voice was hoarse, throat dry from the urgent need of sustenance. Their body went rigid, as still as a statue while their body began to render itself into a comatose state of preservation.

They crumbled into her arms, and Eilidh instinctively covered that battered body with her own. Eyes surveying the suspicious quiet. She knew there were others. The one she had shoved no longer lay in the dirt. But he seemed to lay no where, absent entirely. Somewhere. Anywhere. Who knew how many were like that, in an unknown somewhere. Waiting to come back. Or waiting for her to find them. Have them join the others in that growing pile of ash. She lacked any innate warning signals—relying on average ears and eyes. And they both revealed nothing, except a peace she did not trust. And this unknowing would be fine—mysteries a commonality in her life—if she did not have two tasks at hand. Protecting and feeding. To hunt would leave Metzli exposed; to guard would leave them to starve. And either would benefit from knowing where the fuck anyone was. So, divide and conquer.

Eilidh called to James, meaning to do so in words but only squawks came out. He understood regardless—even a simple look would’ve sufficed. In his own look, there was a creeping tension. Formed deeper lines and tighter jaw the closer he got to Metzli. In another state of mind, she would have the thought to wonder. To decipher those subtle flinches and squirming. To find what hid in each wrinkle, each twitch—a practice she was good enough to be tenured. But that was too much thinking and not enough doing. He was where she needed him to be and that’s all that registered. With that confirmation, she returned to the woods. Leaving James with Metzli and a strange sense of déjà vu.

Minutes passed before Eilidh’s return. Sporting a fresh layer of crimson on her hands and face. The body she carried too covered in fresh blood. Though it only met their paws, head no longer present. Torn away by ravaging bites. Enough to appease her hunger, to allow herself to do away with the kill. Though a part did want to hesitate, to consume the coyote in entirety. But seeing Metzli again, remembering in clarity their state. It appealed to something deep inside her. It told the hesitation to fuck off. She dropped the corpse near Metzli without a second thought. Remembering how to speak, she uttered a single word. “Eat.”

Obediently and with some difficulty, Metzli navigated their body to the coyote, consumed by the ravenous need to eat. When the blood hit their tongue, a feral fervor took control and fangs pierced the corpse, draining it quickly. It tasted better than usual, and they supposed starvation would do that to just about anything. At this state, Metzli would even drink from a werewolf.

No longer able to get another drop, fangs retracted and their body was upright once again. Now on auto-pilot, Metzli took steps that teetered to one side, but they remained standing. “There might be others. We—I—” Eyes tightened shut, trying to relieve any residual dizziness. “Hunt for food. Then hunt for stragglers.” Voice was vacant of their personality, laser-focused on finishing the job thoroughly.

“Thank you, Macleod,” A mutter, but not too low so that it went unheard. Grass depressed underneath their feet as they reached Eilidh to leave a bloody kiss on her cheek. “I will find a way to repay you. For now, let's search together. No splitting up. Not this time.” Crimson eyes locked with Eilidh’s briefly before turning and limping softly in their chosen direction, waiting for her to follow and finally put an end to the encounter.

#wickedswriting #eilidh and metzli #chatzy #domestic abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #gore tw

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serahsanguine · 4 years ago

Note

Fucksgiving porn battle prompt: 10 😎 love your fics you are great!! 💙💚💛🧡❤️

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NC17 ---- NSFW

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Title; Are you undressing me with your eyes?! Ao3

Rating; NC17

Summary: prompt; Mulder won a bet with Scully. She has to wear a vibrating egg to Thanksgiving weekend at Maggie's. Mulder drives Scully nuts. Bonus points if Scully stops giving a fuck and just fucks Mulder in her old bedroom or anywhere else in the house.

Tagging; @skullsmuldon @today-in-fic @xfpornbattle

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Are you undressing me with your eyes?!

Mulder and Scully were sitting outside Maggie’s house in Mulder’s car. It was about 2 in the afternoon and they were about to go have their Thanksgiving meal together. This year Mulder decided to actually attend because Bill wasn’t there as he had been deployed overseas.

“Mulder, I can't believe you’re going to make me do this,” she huffed, unlocking her car seat.

“A bet is a bet, Scully. I won fair and square, and you said anything was at stake,” Mulder replied smugly.

“But I didn’t mean this, we’re at my mother's house,” she said flatly.

“That’s what makes it all the more fun, don’t you think?” he smirked.

“No,” she replied with slight anger tinged in her voice. She opened the car door and slammed it shut. She could feel the device sitting heavy in her lace panties. She moved her hips slightly to make it more comfortable for herself but it only made things worse.

Mulder unbuckled his seat belt, a smile still plastered on his face. He lifted his left hand and ran his palm over his right breast pocket, feeling the small device sitting close to heart. He would use it when she least expected it and he was going to drive her wild.

He stepped out of the car, shutting and locking it before following Scully up her mother's path.

“Hello, mom.”

“Hi Dana, I hope you’re hungry — and just for you, Fox, I have made plenty of pumpkin pie.” She gave her daughter a quick hug and then gave Mulder one too, gesturing for them to go inside.

“Thank you, Mrs Scully, you know how I love your pie.”

“Yes, dear, I know. And how many times have I told you to call me Maggie!”

“Thank you, Maggie, for having me.”

He walked through to the dining room and looked amazed at the layout before them. There was a complete spread: a whole turkey plus stuffing balls; three different kinds of sauces; yams, potatoes, sweet potatoes. Everything you could imagine was on the table in front of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had such a meal but it wasn’t just the meal. It was the love that had gone into it. It warmed his heart. And the smile was still on his face.

Half an hour went by and they were all comfortable eating and chatting away, turkey on plates, veg on forks. Mulder had managed to get the slender little remote out of his breast pocket and into his hand, which was situated under the table.

Scully had just placed a mouthful of yam and placed her fork back on the table when Mulder double-clicked the remote.

Scully felt the vibrating egg in her panties start to vibrate; it was sitting directly against her clit. Mulder had set it to medium vibration straight away. She let out a deep gruntful moan deep within her throat before swallowing what she had in her mouth. She threw Mulder a dirty look, and he smiled mischievously in return.

It took a few minutes before he pressed the button again, this time at an even more intense vibration. Her panties were dripping with her desire. Her hands gripped the edge of the table. She was biting the inside of her cheek. She shouldn’t be this turned on, shouldn’t want to have this kind of pleasure at her mother's dining room table with her mother sitting across from her. She was desperate for it just to take her over the edge. So fucking desperate, the sweat was forming in her palms and on her brow. She could feel herself trying to calm her breathing.

“Dana, is everything alright?” Maggy asked, concerned.

“Yes, Mom,” she let out hoarsely. “I think I swallowed it wrong.” The vibrations were still intensifying, hitting against her nerves, getting her closer and closer.

“Okay, dear, just be careful.”

Scully simply nodded as she was about to shatter. And then everything stopped.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or furious at the fact the Mulder was in ultimate control and making her own body betray her.

She continued her dinner without another incident from Mulder; her panties were still sticky and sweet for her own desire. As soon as her food was finished, she stood up.

“I’ll be back in a minute, mom.”

“Okay, dear.”

Scully walked calm and collected towards the stairs before rushing to the bathroom.

Five minutes passed, then another five. Mulder said politely to Maggie that he wanted to go check on Scully.

He knocked on the bathroom and waited before turning the handle, opening it to find it empty, so he guessed that she was in her old bedroom. He knocked quietly but there was no answer. He knocked again. He found her silently looking at him with a devilish lustful look in her eyes.

He walked into her old bedroom and claimed her mouth fiercely locking his lips with her own, tasting the sweet and the savoury of the meal previously eaten. She stepped back, then stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear.

“I want you to take me here and now but we must be silent.”

He looked at her and asked, “Are you sure?” to which she had a simple reply. She grabbed his rock hard cock in his jeans from their kiss earlier. She turned around and placed her hand down her pant trousers to get the vibrating egg out of her panties. She felt Mulder’s hand on top of hers which sent another pool of desire to between her legs. He grabbed the small egg, which was the size of a small bullet, from her hand and took it off her.

He started kissing the crook of her neck, sending shivers down her spine, before claiming her as his. Pulling her trousers down to her ankles before tearing her black lace panties off her skin.

“So damp for me Scully. Naughty girl,” he said.

“Please Mulder…” She had no idea how she was begging. But he didn’t care—he loved the wild and naughty side of Scully.

He undid the zip of his trousers and lowered his trousers and boxer shorts before wrapping his hand around his shaft, audibly groaning, feeling the pre-cum leaking out of his tip. Scully was now bent over her high footboard, her legs spread in anticipation for him, her trousers around her ankles

He never had any clue how he got so lucky to have a woman like this in his life but damn he was not going to leave her waiting.

He could smell her desire. With his cock in hand, he placed it at her entrance, sliding through her wet folds before burying himself inside her. She was tight and sweet and all the anticipation had led to this moment. He started pumping into her incredibly slowly. His nails were digging into her hips, leaving half-moons in her skin, her groans were getting louder and louder.

“Scully, we have got to be quiet, your mom is downstairs,” he whispered in her ear, chest flush against the expanse of her back.

“Shit, god Mulder, I’m so fucking close,” she whispered hoarsely back. And he knew it was the time to bring the egg back into play. He picked it up from the end of the bed and turned it on manually without the remote. The familiar buzzing sound filled the room. He brought it down between her legs and sat it against her clit.

“Is this what you wanted Scully?” He thrust in hard and sharp. “Every time I turned the egg on, is this what you wanted?” He thrust harder and faster. “Every time I turned it on, I saw you undressing me with your eyes. Thinking of all the ways you were going to get back to me.” He slid himself all the way out before pumping himself deep within her. “I can wait for your revenge, Scully, I’m looking forward to it even.”

The bed started to slide ever so slightly against the carpet. The room filled with soft moans, flesh hitting flesh and the sound of a small vibration. The room smelt of sex and they were both so close to reaching bliss.

They both felt her body go rigid and start to spasm. She covered her mouth with her duvet to stop her screaming out in pure pleasure. His nails dug in deep and he nuzzled into her neck and bit down, releasing himself into her.

“Dana, Fox, is everything okay? I heard banging.” Maggy shouted concerned

Scully quickly let Mulder pull up her trouser pants even without her panties. She gave Mulder a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Everything’s fine, mom, I’ll be down in a moment.

She let out a devilish giggle and left her bedroom. All Mulder could think was god he loved that woman.

He cleaned himself up and headed downstairs for the best pie in the world.

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 4 years ago

Text

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XIX

A/n: So, the laws of physics are broken twice in this chapter to add some dramatic flare to it. Just wanted to say in case I get some comments that say, "That's not how physics works." Besides that, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••

It was the day of the rite. Gladio, Ignis, Prompto, and (Y/n) were rushing around the city as Lady Lunafreya gave her speech. They went door to door, telling everyone to evacuate the city. Some families were more stubborn than others, but they hadn't had an issue just yet. Eventually, the group went their separate ways to cover more ground. Gladio went west, Ignis traveler north, Prompto wandered south, and (Y/n) took it upon herself to evacuate the people on the eastern side of the city.

The spirit came to a halt in front of the many houses within the eastern part of Altissia. The low humming of engines caught her attention. Looking up, she saw imperial drop ships and dreadnoughts flying overhead. They were heading in the direction of the altar. She knew Lady Lunafreya's speech ended and it was about time for the Oracle to call upon Leviathan. She could hear the boys through her earpiece, but she ignored them and continued evacuating the city.

Knocking on one door, (Y/n) waited for someone to answer. A few seconds later, a woman opened the door. The guardian told her to gather her family and head to the docks. She watched the woman run rampantly around her house to tell her family. The girl didn't leave until she saw the entire family evacuate the house and run towards the docks.

Moving on to the house next door, she saw the family was already prepared to leave. Apparently, word was spreading around the city and people were evacuating left and right without needing to be told. It made her job easier and she was able to ensure everyone was heading towards the docks.

While assisting one family with an elderly woman who could barely walk, (Y/n) was forced to use a fire spell when imperial troopers ran towards the civilians with their guns raised. She yelled at them to keep running before attacking the adversaries. Using the Creator's Blade, she sliced through the imperial forces. None of the soldiers were able to harm any of the civilians due to her killing them swiftly.

Making a mad dash to the docks, the guardian ensured everyone safely made it onto the boats. She assisted a single mother with a baby in her arms aboard one of the boats and helped a father find the son he became separated from because of the large crowd.

People continued to jump aboard the many ships at the docks until each and every one was at max capacity. As the boats left the docks, (Y/n)'s attention was drawn in the direction of the altar when a high-pitched screech echoed throughout Altissia. From where she stood, she could see the mighty Leviathan. A faint tinge of pain courses through her body, knowing it was Brahma reacting to the Tidemother's appearance.

Her attention was torn away from the Tidemother as more imperial troopers and MTs closed in on the docks. The ships had yet to reach open waters and were still in danger. She waved her hand, forming a wall of fire between the docks and the enemies. "You bastards got another thing coming if you think I'm going to let you through."

The imperial troopers raised their guns, aiming them at her. She prepared herself to attack the moment they pulled the triggers. However, at the sound of gunshots, she lowered her blade as she watched the enemies fall one by one. As the final MT fell without her lifting a finger, it revealed the person who came to her aid.

Prompto rushed over to the spirit when the imperial forces were dead. Dispelling his pistol, he caught his breath. As he did, she saw his panicked and worried expression. Her curiosity and concern skyrocketed, placing a hand on his back to help calm him. "I've never seen you so out of breath before. What's wrong, Prom?"

"I...we...Gladio..." He panted, but was unable to form a proper sentence. Pressing a hand against his chest, he took a few deep breaths to fill his lungs. Once his breathing was back to normal, he grabbed her upper arms. "We've gotta get out of here. That thing that guy told us about yesterday... It's real."

Her golden eyes widened. "You saw it?"

"I-I don't even know where to begin on how to describe it..." Prompto's grip on her arms tightened. "Gladio and I saw it when some imperial soldiers captured a guardian and..and..."

(Y/n) already knew what he was going to say. "So I was right. They're using the rite as a distraction to feed guardians to that thing."

"W-We tried to help, but we were too late."

Suddenly, they heard an ominous hiss echo around them. Prompto's eyes widen in horror while the spirit looks around in confusion. Without hesitating, the boy dragged (Y/n) away from the docks and towards an abandoned building with shattered windows. No doubt the damage was caused by the empire when they started prowling the streets for civilians. By the layout of the building, they assumed it was a restaurant. Tables with white clothes and wooden chairs were strewn about. Broken glass was scattered across the floor along with silverware.

Hiding behind the counter of the bar, Prompto reclined his back against the stained wood with (Y/n) sitting between his legs. Her back was pressed against his chest, his arms wound around her waist. She was still utterly confused at the situation. "Prompto, what is—?" One of his hands shot up and covered her mouth.

"It's here," he whispered in her ear.

Hearing the ominous hiss they heard earlier, their bodies tensed up. Prompto hugged (Y/n) closer when realizing the sound was coming from outside the building. Then, they heard what sounded like a mix between a snarl and hiss. Along with the strange noise, they could hear the chairs and tables moving around. Even the shards of broken glass scraping against the floor was part of the cacophony. A few of the bottles that were on top of the bar were knocked off. Their bodies were hit with the shrapnels of glass and what little alcohol remained inside the now shattered bottles.

(Y/n)'s eyes darted to the side when she spotted movement. There was a tentacle-like appendage snaking around the side of the bar. She also took note of the other two black tendrils trying to reach over the bar. She held her breath as the one tentacle sneaking around from the side was closing in on their location. She retracted her foot carefully and quietly when the appendage was nearing it.

Prompto saw how close the tendril was coming and tried to slide further away without making any noise. However, his attention was drawn to the tentacle that was protruding over the bar and making its way down near his arm. He wondered what they could do to escape before either of them were grabbed.

The moment one tentacle slid across her foot and up her leg, (Y/n) grabbed one of the many bottles of liquor stored under the bar and tossed it onto the tentacle. Once the bottle shattered and spilled alcohol all over the appendage, she ignited it with a simple fire spell. As the creature attached to the other end of the tentacles wailed out in pain and tried to put the fire out, she yanked Prompto's hand off her mouth and dragged him to his feet. She pulled him out of the tattered restaurant through the back entrance and they ran in the opposite direction.

Once they were safely away from the creature, the couple caught their breath. (Y/n) glances at the street they ran down to see the daemon wasn't following them. "Okay, so that thing has tentacles. Nice to know. I really don't wanna see what's on the other end of them, though..."

"I-I can't believe that thing's able to survive in the sunlight..." Prompto panted.

"If this "devourer" is absorbing the power of guardians, that's probably why the sunlight isn't killing it."

Prompto was silent for a few seconds before stating what they should do next. "We gotta find Gladio and Iggy." He contacted the two older boys using the earpiece. Once learning where to go, they ran through the streets once again.

Because of the raging Tidemother, parts of Altissia were crumbling. Many streets were impassible due to piles of debris and other parts of the city were inaccessible because the bridges that connected the districts were destroyed.

Eventually, Prompto and (Y/n) reconvened with Gladio. They stood in the middle of a plaza with a demolished fountain. The shield's nose scrunched up. "You two smell like a bar."

"We had a run in with the empire's new creation," (Y/n) explained. "We wound up hiding in a restaurant behind the bar."

"That thing's a monstrosity."

"I haven't seen its face yet, but I hope I never do."

"Let's forget about that thing for now and focus on finding Iggy."

The trio weaves through the streets of Altissia, destroying any imperial forces they stumble across. Before long, they rendezvous with Ignis on one of the few bridges left intact from the empire and Leviathan. While they were discussing what to do next since none of them could reach Noctis over the comms, a drop ship was knocked out of the sky and came hurtling towards them. Prompto immediately grabbed (Y/n) and ran to avoid being killed. Gladio followed the couple just in time as the drop ship crashed into the bridge. The three were unscathed, but they were unable to find Ignis. They desperately tried to contact the strategist, but weren't able to reach him.

After a few minutes of trying over and over again, Ignis finally responded. They were relieved he was safe. After discussing what to do next, they knew they needed to head to the altar. Unfortunately, their one way across to the next district was destroyed.

"Guess we're gonna need to find a different way across," Prompto said.

"Hey, short stuff." Gladio turned to the guardian. "Think you could jump across with us on your back?"

(Y/n) analyzed the size of the gap before answering. "I think I can." In seconds, she transformed. Prompto and Gladio climbed onto her back. Once they were on, she backed up a little ways to get a running start. With enough speed, she leapt over the destroyer portion of the bridge and landed safely on the other side. The boys slid off her back so she could return to her human form.

"Nice job," Gladio commented. "Now let's get our asses to the altar."

Their long journey through the crumbling streets of Altissia began. They lost count of how many times they had to find a new route because of the destroyed streets and buildings. Many imperial forces pulled their journey to a screeching halt, blocking their way forward. Like before, they disposed of the enemies before continuing to the altar.

While trying to find a way into another district, the trio stumbled upon a collapsed bridge. Unlike the other bridges they'd seen, this one had a slither of it remaining that was big enough for them to cross. Gladio, being the heaviest out of the three, volunteered to go first. If it could support his weight, (Y/n) and Prompto would have no issues crossing.

Once Gladio safely made it across, Prompto was the next to trek across the narrow slither of bridge followed by (Y/n). The marksman made it to the other side and turned around to ensure the guardian was close behind.

The moment she reached the halfway point, a black tendril shot out of the water from below. It wrapped around her leg and dragged her into the water. She couldn't even scream with how fast it had grabbed and yanked her into the water below. Prompto and Gladio watched in horror. Without thinking, the blonde jumps into the water. The shield shouted his name as he dove beneath the surface.

(Y/n) struggled against the tendril as it dragged her deeper into the water. She glanced down and saw the horror that was the devourer. The daemon has three skeletal heads with a prolonged spine-like body. What appeared to be a large rib cage spanned from its upper back to its lower back. It has two sets of skeletal arms and a pair of boney legs. Attached to its ribcage appeared to be a black sack. From the black sack extended an esophagus-like appendage that attached to each of the heads. The tentacles she was all too familiar with by now protruded from the black sack. What caught her attention the most was the myriads of gemstones embedded in its skeletal body. They were the gemstones of all the guardians it had consumed.

Struggling against the tentacle wrapped around her leg, (Y/n) desperately tried to free herself as she was dragged closer and closer towards the middle head. Its jaw was open wide and ready to devour her. She wasn't sure if she'd die from being eaten or drowning.

As that dark thought crossed her mind, an arm wrapped around her waist. She saw it was Prompto. In his other hand, he wielded his pistol. He aimed at the tentacle and pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed through the water and pierced the tendril. Black blood oozed from the bullet wound, coloring the water around it. The devourer's three mouths opened as its tentacle retracted, releasing the guardian.

Prompto and (Y/n) quickly swam back to the surface before either of them could be grabbed. Breaking through the surface, they both coughed. After a small coughing fit, they swam over to where Gladio was waiting for them. The shield helped them out of the water.

(Y/n) collapsed against the ground on her back, coughing up some more water. Her chest rose and fell rapidly after expelling the last remnants of water in her lungs. She stared up at the sky as it darkened with storm clouds. Prompto was on his knees beside her. He peered down into her face, placing one of his hands on her cheek. "A-Are you okay, (Y/n)?"

She nodded with a smile. "Yeah, all thanks to you."

Gladio leant down slightly and smacked the marksman on the back. "Never knew you had the balls to pull off a stunt like that."

Prompto glanced over his shoulder at the brute. "There's no way I was gonna let that thing have her."

"The boy's become a man," Gladio chortled.

With Prompto's help, (Y/n) got back to her feet. Her eyes were focused on the water. She could see the devourer swimming to the surface. "We better get out of here." The moment she lifted her gaze, she spotted a figure on the other side of the destroyed bridge. It was Callyx, standing with his sword drawn and a smirk in his face. Her fingers twitched, ready to summon the Creator's Blade at any second. However, the male guardian didn't engage. He simply turned his back and walked away.

At that exact moment, the devourer's three heads broke through the surface of the water with an eerie wail. The trio quickly spun on their heels and made a mad dash away from the artificial daemon. They thought they were safe until they heard the devourer closing in on them. Even before they saw the daemon, its tentacles shot forward.

(Y/n) quickly spun around and conjured a large fireball. She tossed it at the appendages and forced them to retreat when each one was ignited with bright flames. She then summoned Brahma's sword and stood her ground. Prompto and Gladio noticed her fighting stance and ceased running.

"The hell're you doing?!" Gladio bellowed angrily.

"At this rate, we'll lead this thing all the way to the altar," she calmly replied.

"Can the three of us really stop that thing?" Prompto asked.

"You two are going to the altar. I'll deal with this monstrosity."

"And how're you planning to do that, short stuff?" Gladio inquired.

She smirked at him from over her shoulder. "Some divine intervention should do the trick."

Prompto wanted to protest and stay behind with her. He swallowed his words, clenching his fists tightly before unfurling them. "Just...be careful, (Y/n)."

She smiled at him. "I will."

The two boys ran off. (Y/n) focused her attention on the devourer as it began charging towards her. Inhaling deeply, she exhaled as she jammed the Creator's Blade into the ground and summoned Brahma. The moment her body was no longer hers, she dispelled all her worries and let the Astral deal with the daemon.

Brahma's form towered across the skyline of Altissia. Although he was smaller in size than Titan, his power was immeasurable. He saw the threat the devourer posed not only to guardians, but to the True King—Noctis. He loomed over the artificial creation and easily blocked any attack the daemon sent his way. The god thought it would be a simple extermination job, but he was soon joined by a large fleet of imperial air ships. Their hatches lowered, revealing the powerful weapons they used against the Archaean.

The god tried to focus on one target, but he was quickly becoming overwhelmed as more imperial drop ships flanked him. As he swatted a few of the airships out of the sky, the devourer used its large and heavy form to tackle the deity. It clawed at Brahma's chest, trying to reach (Y/n) who was residing within. The god smacked the artificial daemon off his body and returned to his full stature. Just as he did, the empire shot numerous of harpoons at him. He managed to pry one out of his body, but a powerful electrical shock courses through his body. He could feel the guardian within his chest cry out in pain.

Brahma conjured a meteor and sent it hurtling towards one of the airships. Next, he grabbed one of the harpoons in his body and yanked it out. Instead of releasing it, he used its against the empire and caused the ship it was tethered to to knock into the other ships.

With the airships now gone, the deity focused his attention back onto the devourer. Searching for the monstrosity, he found it just in time for it to pounce on him again. This time, his body was knocked into the ocean. Sinking deeper and deeper, he fought against the daemon. What happened next shocked the creator god. Leviathan emerged from the deep and aided him in battle. The Tidemother snapped her jaw around the devourer and swam to the depths with it.

Because of his lengthy battle underwater, his power was diminished and (Y/n) was drowning. His body was becoming weak and wasn't able to protect her any longer. As he was about to reach the surface, his body vanished. The girl who acted as his vessel was unconscious, her body slowly sinking into the ocean.

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muertawrites · 5 years ago

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The Lovers of Ba Sing Se - Part 1 (Zuko x Reader) [Modern Au]

Summary: Zuko isn’t used to being around people who aren’t afraid to share their every emotion. Meeting you during his time in Ba Sing Se changes that, and changes him for the better.

Word Count: 4,000

Author’s Note: Lmao the only person I’m writing this for is myself. Sorry not sorry. I usually try really hard to keep specifics to a minimum in my self-insert works, but this time I didn’t; I wrote about myself because, honestly, this fic is my love letter to me. I relate to Zuko so much and a huge part of the reason I love him is because he reminds me of myself - this fic is about me learning to love myself again after the people I loved and trusted most betrayed me, and saying a gigantic “fuck you” everyone who ever did anything to destroy my self worth. Part 2 is when I finally live out my fantasy of curb stomping Mai - tomorrow, same bat-time, same bat-channel.

Also, shameless plug, but I’m about 100 followers away from 1k, and I have some really fun stuff planned for when we get there so if you like this fic or any of my others, please follow! I love doing this and my goal is to devote as much effort as possible to it as I can, and I truly wouldn’t be able to do it without your support. Thank you so much for all of it. I’m so excited for the future of this blog and everyone who makes it possible ♥

~ Muerta

Of all the things Zuko thought might kill him, falling dishware was the last thing he would have ever considered a possibility.

He was sitting in the alley behind the Jasmine Dragon, making the most of his smoke break, when a ceramic cooking pot rained onto the pavement in front of him, shattering into trillions of pieces. Startled, he jumped back, dropping his cigarette as he craned his neck upwards; he spotted a head of brightly dyed hair staring down at him from the third floor balcony above.

“Oh shit,” you cried.

Within a minute, you burst through the back door of the neighboring building, panting and looking just as terrified as the young man you'd almost killed. Zuko stared at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Oh my god I'm so sorry,” you gushed. “Are you okay?? I didn't see you standing there, oh my god, oh my fucking god please tell me you're okay.”

Zuko was taken aback, unable to do anything for a moment but gaze at you in confusion, almost wonder. People in the Fire Nation were never this publicly expressive, even when barely avoiding manslaughter - he didn't quite know what to do with you, other than mutter that he was alright.

“I'm so, so sorry,” you blurted again. “You're sure you're okay? You don't have any glass on you or anything? Or need to be treated for shock?”

“No, I'm fine,” Zuko flatly replied. He nodded towards the trash bins across the alley. “You do know your building has those, though. You don't need to throw your old stuff off your balcony.”

You blushed, smiling sheepishly.

“It wasn't old,” you confessed. “It was a birthday gift from my best friend. Well… ex-best friend.”

Zuko huffed, pulling another cigarette from the pocket of his jeans and lighting it, looking down at his hands.

“Never had a breakup, huh?” he guessed.

“Oh, I've had plenty,” you told him. “They just don't get any easier.”

Zuko looked up at you, taking a long drag from his smoke. Your eyes were cast into the middle of the alley, settled on the shards of what once had been a reasonably nice piece of cookware. The shock and terror had faded from your expression, falling into one that was pained, anger and despair shadowing your features; you may as well have roundhouse kicked him in the chest, the look on your face mirroring the ache between his ribs. You hadn't revealed anything to him, but he knew instantly that your pain was the same as his.

He slid another cigarette from the box, offering it to you. You shook your head, lowering yourself onto the back stoop of the Jasmine Dragon; he found himself doing the same without thinking.

“I'm sorry about your pot,” he said, clumsily attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “It looked nice.”

You smiled faintly, pulling your knees to your chest and letting your chin rest atop them.

“I don't cook much, so it wasn't a huge loss,” you replied. “It was kind of cathartic, actually. I feel better.”

Zuko chuckled, tapping a bit of ash onto the ground between his feet.

“Good. Maybe feeling better will keep you from accidentally killing someone.”

You laughed, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Have I mentioned I'm sorry about that?” you winced.

“Hey, no sweat,” Zuko assured you. “It's not the first time. I've had people try to kill me on purpose before.”

He stood, stubbing out his half-smoked cigarette and pocketing it. He offered a hand to help you up, which you took, finding comfort in the strength of his palm as it wrapped around your forearm.

“I've gotta get back to work,” he told you. “You don't have any other gifts from your ex-best friend laying around, do you?”

You giggled, shaking your head.

“No,” you promised, “just that one. Thank you. For not threatening to press charges.”

Zuko laughed, realizing he was doing so for the first time in what had probably been years. The light feeling in his chest got even lighter when he noticed he was still holding your arm.

“Will I see you around?” he asked, the words escaping before they were even fully formed in his head.

You nodded, finally letting go of his hand.

“Yeah,” you said. “I'll see you around …?”

“Lee,” he told you. “I'm Lee.”

You smiled.

“Cool. I'll see you around, Lee.”

You saw Lee again a few days later, but not in a way you really wanted to. You were at work, standing outside the bar on the district high street with a coworker, attempting to attract some business during the weeknight lull; Lee spotted you while on his way to the nearby market, seeing you from a block or two away but doing his best to approach you as if he was bumping into you completely by accident.

Of course, this would be perfectly normal and not at all a weird way to run into a new acquaintance, if only the bar you worked in wasn’t catered towards men with a lolita fetish. You were dressed head to toe in pink and white, corseted in a risque bustier and frocked with a poofy, frilly mini skirt that was purposely too short, revealing the bum of your equally as ruffled panties; when you turned around and came face to face with the cute guy from the tea shop next door, you hoped someone would throw a cooking pot on top of you, death seeming like a much better option than attempting to explain yourself to someone who’d already had the privilege of meeting you during an emotional breakdown.

Lee blushed as pink as your costume, smiling coyly.

“We did say we’d see each other around,” he greeted you.

You grinned, relaxing a little.

“You’re not here to have a drink, are you?” you teased him. He laughed, his face turning redder as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.

“No,” he assured you, “I’m actually on my way to get some groceries. Figured I’d say hey.”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, “My break is in about fifteen minutes! If you don’t mind waiting I could go with you? I’ll buy you dinner to make up for almost killing you the other day.”

Lee chuckled, nodding.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that,” he agreed. “... I don’t have to wait inside though, do I?”

“I mean, my boss would like it,” you told him, “but it’s so dead in there I don’t think she’d let you leave if you did.”

“Noted,” Lee replied. “I’ll wait in the coffee shop across the street, then.”

Not long after, you tossed a hoodie and a pair of jeans over your bustier and undies, meeting him outside the cafe he was stationed at and making your way to the market. You bustled alongside each other in a fray of other people, rubbing shoulders or hips as you were jostled along with the current.

“So,” Lee blurted, attempting to break the silence between you (although it wasn’t nearly as awkward as it probably should have been), “how’d you end up working in a fetish bar?”

Your simpered, cheeks going ever so slightly rosy.

“How do you think?” you jabbed sarcastically. “I needed money and they pay really well. It’s nice knowing I’ll be able to afford rent every month. What about you? How’d you end up at the tea shop?”

“My uncle owns it,” Lee explained. “We’re the only family we have left, so… we stick together.”

You nodded, understanding and not pushing the question any further.

“It’s not so bad,” he went on. “At least I don’t have to wear pigtails to work.”

You huffed with laughter, leaning over so that your shoulder purposely, playfully shoved his.

“Honestly, my job isn’t awful,” you admitted. “My coworkers are cool, and my boss is really kind. It’s also pretty fun getting to dress up in costume every day; it's like Halloween, except I get to do it whenever I want to.”

Suddenly, you paused, gasping.

“Look!”

You grabbed hold of his arm, startling him a bit but too excited to care. You pointed towards a nearby stand, in which an elderly man was frying pieces of dough. He twisted each in an elaborate knot, every order getting a different design. They were like miniature sculptures, too ornate to even think about eating, but the smell of rich spices and molten sugar was too tempting to ignore.

“I love this stand!” you cried. “He isn't always here, but I get something every time he is. Come on, I'll get us some to split!”

With your hand still curled around his elbow, you dragged Lee through the market throng. As he watched you order, making friendly conversation with the old man, he found himself feeling perplexed; he'd never met someone so comfortable with their emotions, so willing to let every part of them be seen. He wondered how you got so fearless, or if you even had to put effort into being so candid.

He found himself thinking about Mai, how cold and empty she was. He was reminded of the chill he felt around her, the bitter sting she often left in his chest, even during tender moments. Being around you was different; even having just met you, you made him feel invigorated but at ease, the tension in his muscles loosening naturally just from the energy of your presence. It was strange, but refreshing - he found himself grinning along with you as you left the stand, finding a place to sit and enjoy your pastry.

“I got us one with curry, and one with cream filling,” you told him, ripping each serving in half to share. “This guy is an artist, I swear. You're not going to be the same person after this.”

You looked up as you took a bite of the savory half of your meal, halting when you noticed the strange look Lee was giving you.

“What?” you asked him.

He shrugged, fixing his eyes on the pastry in his hand.

“You're just different,” he answered. “Where I'm from, people aren't open like you are. You're really… yourself. It's nice.”

You smiled, unable to help but blush. Bubbles fizzed in your chest, making you feel lightheaded and giddy.

“I think it's because so many people told me not to be when I was a kid,” you mused. “They tried to make me hide the parts of myself I really liked, so I made them show even more, just to show them that they couldn't change me. That I was stronger than their cruelty.”

Zuko felt as if he'd been hit by lightning. He didn't know what it was, but something about you terrified him - it was the same thing that made him want to latch onto you and not let go. Despite having met you just days ago, he already felt as if he'd known you a lifetime - unbeknownst to him, you felt exactly the same way.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow night?” he asked, stuttering the words.

“Yeah,” you replied, so excited you felt like shrieking so the whole market could hear. “I have the day off tomorrow. Think your uncle would let you swing that?”

“Yeah,” Lee assured you. “I think he would.”

You finished your meal together, sharing your favorite things about the neighborhood you lived in and simply enjoying each other’s company, as comfortable as if you were old friends. Instead of parting with you, Lee walked you back to the bar at the end of your break, stating that it was no trouble going back to the market to get the groceries he skipped to spend time with you.

When he left, you hugged him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt as if you'd truly made a friend.

On your date the next day, Lee took you to the local art museum - he remembered you expressing an interest in art history, and per his uncle’s suggestion, decided it would be the perfect place to take you. He loved seeing the awe on your face when met with a piece that captivated you, was drawn in by the impassioned way you spoke about cultures and myths from ages so long passed they felt as if they came from different worlds entirely. You spent the whole day together, ending the evening crashed on your couch with a pizza and a marathon of true crime documentaries.

From that day onward, you and Lee were connected at the hip. You spent every available moment you had either in the alley behind your building with him or having a cup of tea at the Jasmine Dragon, often staying long after closing with him and his uncle, Mushi, and feeling as if you'd finally found a family in your adopted city.

You learned that Lee was a skilled martial artist, asking him to teach you a little of what he knew and amazed at just how good he really was. He moved more like a dancer than a fighter, his comfort and ability with his body and a weapon captivating you. You learned that he also had an affinity for theater and had grown up completely cut off from modern music and pop culture, spending many of your nights together at local play houses and bars, introducing him to your favorite bands and shows. He learned that you were fascinated by literature and history - anything that had significant, profound meaning and beauty - and often found himself wandering museums and historic neighborhoods with you, loving nothing more than to listen to you talk about what inspired you. You also made him laugh, your sense of humor at times dark, but set into a personality that saw the world with childlike wonder, able to find immense beauty and value in things that seemed frivolous to the naked eye. You were kind, unwavering - everything his family and past lover weren't.

Zuko loved being around you because of how free you made him feel. The unbridled way you expressed your emotions encouraged him to face his own, following your lead in being unafraid of just how intensely the heart within his chest was prone to beat. You loved being with him because he made you feel safe, never judging you for anything and understanding the trauma of your past in a way nobody else had done before. You opened up to him about how the ones you loved did you the most harm, never giving themselves as fully to you as you did them, treating you as a means to take out their own pain and insecurities and convincing you that that was just the way love worked. Eventually, he confided in you the truth about his identity, confessing the horrors he fled in coming to Ba Sing Se. You never once blamed him for anything he'd done, knowing exactly what it felt like to have to read between the lines and give everything for those who gave you little in return. You fit together easily, never having to guess what the other was thinking; for once you both felt content, secure in the safety of your heart within the other’s hands.

One of your favorite places to go with Zuko was a cat cafe a few blocks over from where you worked, spending many a slow weekday off shift with fresh lattes, croissants, and cuddles from friendly, adoptable kitties. At first, Zuko was unsure, having never spent much time with cats, but after one visit he was enamored, gushing to you every single time you went how badly he wanted a cat and spouting multiple reasons why you should adopt one together. On a free Wednesday afternoon he showed up at your apartment unannounced (as he had made a habit of doing) and suggested you go together, an invitation you were more than happy to accept.

As you left the cafe, a couple walking on the other side of the street caught your eye - the man who stood nearest to you was horrifyingly familiar. You recognized him immediately, the shock of his sudden appearance shattering and hollowing out your insides.

It was your ex boyfriend, the man who broke your heart so far beyond repair, walking hand in hand with someone else.

“Zuko,” you mumbled, not even noticing that you used his real name in public, “I want to go home.”

Zuko furrowed his brow, taking you by the shoulders and gently turning you to face him, concerned with the sudden shift in your tone.

“What's wrong?” he asked softly.

All you could do was shake your head. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you to the nearby subway station and back to your apartment.

Once safe inside the confines of your home, you changed into a baggy sweater and the softest sweatpants you owned, curling up under the kotatsu in your living room with Zuko, arms wrapped tight around his waist as you drifted in the tide of blood that poured from your newly reopened wounds. He didn't have to ask what you'd seen - he could tell from the vacant, glassy look in your eyes exactly which ghost haunted you.

“I can't believe he'd be with someone else,” you whimpered. “After everything he did to me… always giving me mixed signals and never telling me exactly how he felt… how could he be able to do it with another person? What was so wrong about me that he hid all of it from me, when all I needed was to hear it?”

You sniffed as Zuko pressed a thumb to your cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen. He hugged you tightly, pressing you close as if to remind you that he was there - he was your present, and there was nothing your past could do to harm you.

“There's nothing wrong with you,” he promised. “He's taken enough from you. Don't give him any more.”

For a long while, you sat together in silence, cradled in Zuko’s arms while he rocked you slowly back and forth, the tenderness of his touch sucking the poison from your veins. After what felt like ages, he finally spoke, giving you the piece of his past he'd been too heartbroken to offer until that moment.

“My girlfriend, Mai,” he told you, “she was like him. Everything she felt, she forced herself not to. We were together for a long time, but… I never really felt like she actually cared for me. If she did, she never let me see it. I gave her everything for nothing.”

“Why did you stay with her?” you wondered, voice meek and quivering with tears.

Zuko sighed, letting his chin fall so he could bury his face in your hair.

“Because she was the first person who ever accepted what I offered her,” he explained. “I was so used to everything I did being unwanted, it was just nice to not be pushed away for once. But she didn't love me like I needed it. I wish I was strong enough to see that and walk away, like you did.”

You propped yourself upright, leveling yourself so you could look him in the eye. You rested your hands at either side of his neck, your thumbs grazing delicately over his hot skin as you hooked your legs around his hips, your body nestled in the gap between his crossed legs.

“Zuko,” you breathed, “I love you. Those aren't even the right words to tell you how I feel about you, but it's the closest I have. You're so passionate and kind, and you love so fiercely… I truly don't know how to tell you how beautiful I think you are, or how much you mean to me. You deserve so much more than how the people you loved have treated you.”

Zuko curled his arms around your back, pressing his chest to yours and burying his face in the crook of your neck, embracing you as closely as he'd ever done. Tears soaked the collar of your sweater, and in return you cried into the exposed skin revealed by his t-shirt as you tugged on the fabric, gripping him as if letting go meant losing him forever.

“I love you, too,” Zuko murmured. “You make me feel strong enough to show it.”

When Zuko left Ba Sing Se, it crushed you. You were furious, at first unable to understand why he'd throw everything away to return to the place and the people that destroyed so much of him. Most of all, you missed him like mad - you missed how easy it was being with him, how you understood each other as if you were another part of yourselves. You missed his laughter and his warmth, the side of your mattress he often slept in feeling colder than ever without him there.

You were relieved when Mushi - who you now knew to be the infamously disgraced General Iroh - returned, showing up at your door out of the blue with tea and baked goods from the shop. You hugged him tightly, crying like a child as he settled you at your table and told you about his escape from prison, as well as his conversations with Zuko the few times he'd visited him. Your heart ached, but it finally felt clear just how lost and confused he was; you were still angry, but you knew you could forgive him.

“His heart is lost,” Iroh explained, “but because of you, he knows how to listen to it.”

For the next month and a half, you took Zuko’s place at the Jasmine Dragon, spending your days off helping Iroh wherever he needed you. He became as much a part of you as his nephew did, and started to consider you as much a daughter as he did Zuko a son. Iroh’s presence soothed the burns left on your soul not only by those you loved, but by your own ferocity towards them.

Everything changed again the morning you woke to and find that Zuko had left the Fire Nation a third time, his face plastered across the news as a missing person with a bounty on his head. You knew based on everything Iroh told you what he planned to do, and immediately set to packing your bags. Travel into and out of the Fire Nation was difficult, but a few of your coworkers had connections to smugglers in the seedier parts of the district - they’d be able to get you onto a ship or a plane that could get you where you needed to go.

Before you left, you went to the Jasmine Dragon and told Iroh of your plans, asking him to keep watch over your apartment so that you could return if need be. You expected him to try and stop you - instead he pulled you into a strong, affectionate hug, telling you to be careful and call him whenever you were able.

“Go to him,” he hummed into your ear. “He needs you.”

Later that night, you met a group of other refugees at the docks, piling into the hull of a cargo ship bound for the Fire Nation’s imperial city. For the entirety of the journey, you wore one of Zuko’s necklace’s around your neck - one of the few things he’d kept from his life before his banishment and subsequent disappearance - keeping it tucked under your shirt and pressed to your chest for good luck.

[ Part 2 ]

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littlemisslol-fic · 4 years ago

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Summary: Two years after the events of Barviel Keep, Varian has tried to adapt to the expectations brought by being a King’s Ward, with mixed results. Haunted by ghosts, Varian is forced to face the demons he tried to leave behind in Bayangor when his abdication is forcibly stopped by a third party, out for revenge against the Bayan Royal bloodline. On the run, with few allies left to turn to, Varian finds himself chasing a ghost through a series of tests that only a true heir of Demanitus could ever hope to pass.But the shadows are ever present, looming and dark, and not everything is as simple as it might seem.

Notes: Magic doesn't like to give up its secrets. Sacrifices must be made.

Varian almost sobbed in relief when the first torch sprang back to life.

Light, flickering and dull but there, began to creep into the hallway again. Varian caught sight of Rapunzel and Eugene, the two of them looking stricken at the sight of the massive pile of stone and earth that was covering their only way of accessing the surface. The torchlight played across their faces, weak but enough that Varian could see the way Rapunzel’s eyes were wide in fear, the way Eugene’s jaw was set. Varian knew he mustn’t look much better he could feel the way dust had settled onto his cloths and skin in a thin layer.

"Ah, Sun above," Eugene cursed, "We just had to go down the creepy staircase, didn't we?" He approached the blockage, gently pushing at it with a flat palm. It didn't budge, the stone firmly wedged.

"I don't think we can get out that way," Rapunzel said, her voice nervous. "Unless we find something to leverage some of the rock out of the way."

Varian looked between them, listening as Eugene kept pushing at the rock and Rapunzel fretted, before turning and looking down the hall. Ruddiger weaved around his feet before climbing up onto his shoulders, the raccoon looking down the hallway with his master. It seemed endless, the stone leading off into the inky black that could only come from being underground, but something about it was off. He watched the bangs in front of his face flutter a little, a subtle air current flowing from the dark.

"Guys," he got their attention, "There's wind."

"What?" Eugene asked. Varian turned to him, pointing down the hall.

"There's an air current," he said, "Which means there must be an opening down there somewhere."

Eugene sniffed at the air, nodding. "What are you thinking?" he asked, turning to his wife.

"It could be our only chance," Rapunzel said grimly, "I don't think we're moving these rocks any time soon."

Varian twisted at his gloves nervously, looking out into the dark. Just because it was the best idea didn't mean he was super excited to wander into the depths on a hunch. Eugene shouldered their bag, which had made it with only a few small scrapes and burns, and slapped the boy on the back.

"Alrighty then," he said with forced cheer. "Let's get going then, because I don't want to freak anyone out, but my skin will get pale if we stay down here for too long, and I will cry about it."

That did it- Varian and Rapunzel both snorted, snickering as the tension finally broke. Varian couldn’t help but be grateful for it; they’d been in more dire straits before, and they’d made it out. A little levity was exactly what they needed.

"Come on," Rapunzel said, taking the lead. "Let's see how far this goes."

Varian followed behind her, making his way through the pitch-black hallway. Torches on the wall burst to life as they walked, snuffing out once they were a few meters ahead. Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust; as they walked, they left a trail of dark footprints, the onyx stone under the layer of white dust shining in the dim light. The halls were cold, freezing even… but the chill crawling up Varian’s spine had more to do with the looming dread, then it did the temperature. The caves felt oppressive, dank and musty and dark; if Varian didn’t know better he’d swear the walls were shrinking, threatening to crush them all.

They walked for what felt like hours, taking short breaks but still working forward. It was hard to gauge time in the hall, with no sunlight to work with. Was it evening on the surface yet? It was midafternoon when they'd descended, surely it would be getting dark up top. Time felt useless in a place with no sunlight.

Varian shuddered. It was cold, this deep underground. He quickly did some quick math in his head- if the stairs had been about a hundred feet long, at an angle of around thirty-seven degrees, multiply by… they were about sixty feet underground. The thought made him colder than the chilled air around them.

Varian looked up from the ground at the sound of dripping water, the echoes of it loud in the distance. Echoes like that… indicated a bigger space. Somewhere bigger than the halls, at least. He began to pick up his pace, smelling the air. It smelt a bit less stale, a little more like actual air and not just dust. Varian squinted through the dark, seeing something finally emerge through the ink.

As he kept pace, he could see that the hallway ended abruptly, a large, open doorway of iron and marble standing tall. It was gossamer white, standing out in the darkness like a lighthouse. Varian approached it with caution, eyes on the ground to look for another tripwire or some other type of trap. He didn't see anything, thankfully, and took a timid step into the room beyond the arches.

It was a wide-open space, at least thirty meters across; the ceiling towered high above Varian's head, so tall that it seemed to vanish into the darkness. Torches burst to life, just as they had in the hallway, but in such a large space they didn't do much for keeping the shadows at bay. Across the vast expanse of the room was a series of large tiles, half meter squares of polished stone with odd, raised grout in between the slabs. The entire space reeked of musty air and dust— it took everything in Varian not to sneeze violently.

Eugene didn't have such hesitations, sneezing loudly into the room. It echoed, disturbing dust and dirt from the ceiling and making particles rain down. Varian squinted in the dark; even though their eyes had more than adjusted, the murky black was hard to see through, but he could still tell that there was something off about this whole space. One of the tiles, in the far distance, seemed to be missing, but the black spot it left behind looked nearly... hm....

"I don't like this," said Eugene, echoing Varian's thoughts. "We already know the place is rigged. A space this big with nothing in it? Suspicious."

"Maybe it was a ballroom?" Rapunzel asked, trying for optimistic. "This place is defiantly big enough to live in, maybe they all just moved away!"

Varian paced parallel to the door, scanning the ground. The couple behind him continued to throw out theories, from supply rooms to meeting halls, but the alchemist had a theory. He found what he was looking for, stooping down to pick it up, and returned to the others.

"Oh maybe it was an art gallery!" Rapunzel cooed, "Wouldn't that be amazing?"

Varian looked out over the floor, noting where the odd tile out was. The rock in his hand was heavy; it took a solid amount of effort for Varian to reel back and throw it across the room, launching the stone at good few meters away. Eugene yelped when he did, saying something about traps, but Varian watched with satisfaction as the stone sailed through the air and slamming into the tiled floor with a bang.

The noise was loud enough to echo in the room. The boy grit his teeth against the sudden burst of sound after such a long time with nothing but soft voices for company, but grinned as the stone punched through the floor tile it landed on, shattering it and caving it inward.

The whole tile fell inward, revealing that the floor was built above a gaping expanse of darkness. Eugene and Rapunzel blinked in shock as the tile fell away, showing what, exactly, the trap was.

"The floor's rigged," Varian said, a hint of smugness in his voice. "I think it's hollow, underneath. Like in Flynn Rider-"

"Book number eight: The Count of Eskea!" Eugene cut in, "Kid, you're a genius!" He paused, tapping at his chin. "Hm, how are we going to get across?"

"There must be a safe path through," Rapunzel mused, "But I don't think we have enough rocks to find it... maybe we could try and find another way?"

"We've been down here for too long already," Varian argued. "If my mother is down here, then we're wasting time. She may have heard the traps go off and bolted already." His stomach sank at the thought of justmissing her, but he shrugged it off; if they'd missed her then he'd just have to chase after her again. "We can test the floor by being careful."

Eugene made a rough cough, shaking the duffel bag as he did so. "Cough-NotMuchFoodLeft-Cough," he added, not looking Rapunzel in the eye. The princess looked between them, sighing when she saw she was outvoted.

"Fine," she grumbled, like it pained her to give ground. "Fine. But we're going to look around for more rocks first, and only try it once we get a good amount— fair?"

Varian nodded, already looking back down the tunnel they'd come from.

"Fair," he agreed.

Thankfully, with how the tunnels had fallen into neglect and disrepair, it was easy enough to gather up a few good stones in a blanket for testing. Within minutes they were standing at the threshold of where the floor, and therefore the pit underneath, began. The three of them looked at it in apprehension. Eugene took a stone, throwing it down onto the first tile. They all jumped back as it punched straight through, the brittle tile falling away like crumbling cards; the stone fragments disappeared into the darkness below, vanishing without so much as a thud.

They repeated the process again, to the same result. The third time fared better, with the stone hitting the tile but staying in place. This was their starting point, it seemed, but they wouldn't know for certain until someone actually stepped out and tested it. There was an unspoken tension in the air, all three of them nervous to take the first step. The alchemist finally sighed, knowing they wouldn't get anywhere unless one of them did it.

Varian finally started to move, only for Rapunzel to throw out an arm in front of him.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Her voice was tense, frantic. "Maybe Eugene or I should go first; it's dangerous."

Varian scoffed at that, pushing her arm down. "I'll be fine-" he started to argue, only to be cut off.

"-And besides, we're older, we weigh more, so it only makes sense," Rapunzel prattled on, obviously grasping at straws.

Varian pushed at her arm again. He was fed up with this behavior from her; he wasn't invalid, no matter what she seemed to think. Poor Ruddiger seemed to be on her side, tugging at Varian's pant leg to stop him as well. The boy sighed, shaking his head and gently tugging free.

"I'm going first," he said firmly, "Because it's my fault we're down here. And I weigh the least, so I'm least likely to break it."

And like that, he looked her dead in the eye, and took a step forward.

Even if he wanted to act brave, Varian couldn't deny how he held his breath as his foot made contact with marble. He sent a small prayer to the Sun above that he wasn't about to bite it out of sheer spite— but that breath came out in a relieved sigh when the tile remained intact under him.

"See?" he shrugged, going for nonchalant. "Easy. Just another..." he looked to the tiles, counting a five-by-ten grid, "Nine more. Nothing to it."

Rapunzel was pale, her hands outstretched like she was waiting for him to fall. Varian ignored her, using another rock to smash the tile directly in front of him. In theory, he thought to himself, the right one will be one to the left, one to the right, or one of the three in front of me, including diagonals.

One by one he tested the tiles, smashing through three until the one on the left-diagonal proved to be solid. Varian gently moved forward, hopping from the first tile to the second.

Two down, eight to go.

He could hear Rapunzel and Eugene following him, Eugene on the tile behind Varian with the rock collection, and Rapunzel taking up the rear. Every tile she passed she drew an X with her chalk, marking the correct tile should they ever need to come back the same way. Varian sighed, holding out his hand to Eugene, and nodding when the man wordlessly passed him another stone.

The third tile was directly in front of him, the fourth diagonal to the right. Fifth and sixth were both forward, seventh and eighth a pair of contrasting diagonals. Nine was a step forward. With every jump Varian began to feel more confident, holding his breath until the tile under him proved to be safe. The alchemist did his best to keep calm, working methodically through the choices.

At long last there was only one more tile to hop before they would reach the other side of the pit. Varian could see a doorway nearby, a wide, gaping hole in the earth much like they one they'd come from. He paused for a second, turning a little when he heard Rapunzel's voice echo through the massive cavern.

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

Varian scowled, whipping around on his heel to glare at her. "Are you kidding?" He threw his hands up in the air, "We're so close and you still want to turn back?"

Rapunzel sighed, shaking her head. Varian felt his hackles raise when she opened her mouth again, but shrank back when their third member finally lost his patience with them.

"Guys!" Eugene snapped, "Is this really the time for this?"

The boy sucked in a breath through his teeth. Eugene was right, this wasn't the place. He shuffled a bit, turning around-

And stepped on the wrong tile.

Varian shrieked as the floor gave way under his foot, sending him toppling to the floor. His hands flew out to grab himself, his entire body dropping down into the void above and only stopping when he latched onto the sharp edges of the broken tile. The teenager hissed in pain as the razor edges cut through his gloves; he let out a primal noise of fear when his fingers began to slip on the polished stone.

His legs swung wildly in the void, kicking frantically in open air in an attempt to somehow push himself back up. Varian's heart beat at a mile a minute, a racing beat in his ear as he clung to the ledge with all the strength he had left.

"Guys!" he screamed, "Help, help would be very much appreciated-" His voice pitched higher than he'd hit in years, at least since he was fourteen, the panic making him squeaky in pure distress.

Eugene was the first to move, already running the second Varian dropped. His knees slammed into the tile; the man skid to a stop in front of the drop, dropping everything to grab onto Varian in a rush of panic.

"Hold on!" Eugene's hands grabbed him around the wrists, holding tight, "I got you, kid!"

There was a shower of stones that fell past Varian as Eugene grabbed him, probably their spares. Varian didn't think about it, instead focusing on clinging to Eugene's forearms with all the energy he had left; his stomach swooped uncomfortably as Eugene hoisted him up and out of the pit.

Varian felt his knees hit tile and nearly wept. He pressed his hands onto the stone, reveling in the feeling of solid floor underneath him as he tried to get is panic back under control. He shuddered, avoiding thinking about the drop he’d almost had at any cost, and slamming his eyes shut to block everything out.

"Thank the Sun," he gasped, "No more traps after this, never again. I want to go to my lab and live there forever-"

Eugene patted him on the back in consolation, a grounding touch as Varian wheezed into the floor. Ruddiger scampered around Rapunzel's skirts, worming his way between Varian's head and the floor with a concerned noise. The boy gently scooped up his pet, forcing himself up onto his knees. He was met with Eugene's wide eyes, the man looking shell shocked.

"Are you okay?" he asked, the hand on Varian's shoulder wrapping into a one armed hug. The alchemist could feel the way Eugene's hands shook though his cloak. "Sun, that was close."

Varian coughed out a little, hysterical laugh, leaning into the hug. "Good catch," is all he said in return, a huff of strained air that he pressed into Eugene's coat. The fabric was rough under his cheek but he clung to it nonetheless, shuddering. Under the stink of travel and smoke, he caught the smallest scent of the soap that was used in the palace laundry, and he tried to focus on it. Ruddiger was warm in his arms, but a small chitter from the raccoon drew Varian into looking up from where he was hiding himself.

Rapunzel stood nearby, pale as a sheet. Varian saw the way she shook, her hands clenched tightly at her side. She looked like she'd stared death itself in the face. It made a chill run up his spine, the sight of her so shaken, so unnerved. Varian pushed himself up and off the floor; he could see how she hesitated in trying to reach for him after the spat, and wasn’t sure exactly how to react. Hell, she'd caused him to almost fall; if she hadn't been trying to convince him to turn back, he never would have stumbled— but also all he could see was his sister in need of comfort. He could put aside the arguments for a second, couldn't he?

"Rapunzel," He held out his hand to her, offering. "I'm okay, nothing happened..."

She seemed hesitant, her hands twitching, but to Varian's surprise she only drew him into a quick hug. He felt a long kiss get pressed into his hair, shaking breaths ruffling the strands.

"I'm okay," he said again, at a loss for words. He'd never been good at comforting others, always awkward and stumbling, pointing out the obvious and being unable to see beyond that— but Rapunzel seemed to understand, the woman hugging him tight one last time before letting him go. It still made something in his skin crawl to have her coddling him, a thousand ants buried in his flesh as she babied him.

She clung a little tighter when he tried to pull away, only letting go when Varian coughed into his hand.

"One more to go," he said, trying for a joke.

Eugene huffed a laugh into his hand, covering it up with a yawn when Rapunzel glared at her husband. He elected to shrink under her ire, handing Varian another rock.

The alchemist took it, moving back to the front of the line. He brought it down on the left diagonal space, sighing with relief when it stayed in one piece. He took the last hop, stepping onto the tile and immediately hopping off of it and onto the solid ground of the other side.

The knot in his chest finally started to come undone with the feeling of strong earth at last, the pit finally left behind. He heard the soft footsteps of Eugene and Rapunzel behind him, the both of them making it along the last step and out of the trap in once piece. Varian rolled his eyes as Eugene dipped low to the floor, loudly kissing at the marble.

"Oh, thank you," he gasped, "Thank you, thank you, we are neverdoing that again."

Varian was inclined to agree, dipping his head in a gesture of concession. If they could avoid going back the way they'd come, he'd take it for sure. Ruddiger seemed to agree, if the way he clung to Varian’s shoulders were any indication. The poor animal was shaking, wrapping tightly around his human’s neck. Varian reached up and gave him a comforting scratch, which was met with a purr. Varian sighed, looking up at long last.

The alchemist looked at what lay on the other side of the pit at long last. Much like the doorway they'd come from, a structure of marble and iron stood tall in the center of the wall. The difference, this time, was that a large door was set into the frame, made of thick stone and looking heavy as all hell. Varian walked close to It, tilting his head in curiosity, and noting a series of intricate carvings on the door.

"How are we supposed to get it open?" Rapunzel asked, sizing up the door. Varian was at a bit of a loss, to be honest. The door was nearly four meters tall; a cursory push to the center of it was met with unsurprising failure. He sighed, inspecting the door with a curious eye.

"I have... no idea," he admitted.

"Well, if you're busy having no idea, then I'm going to have some dinner," Eugene said, flopping down onto the ground. Varian didn't bother to look away from the door; he could hear his companions begin to sort through the last of their rations with soft clinks of glass on glass. The teenager toyed with the hem of his cloak, scrutinizing.

The door had a series of intricate carvings, all jutting out from the surface of the stone in an almost three-dimensional effect. There were a variety of scenes depicted; Varian could see armies, marching on what looked like a large island. The raising of a massive castle of cold stone and lofty ceilings— he blinked, stunned. The image of Barviel Keep stared back at him, an ugly, jutting block of stone that stabbed into the sky like a sore thumb.

He grimaced at the sight of it, looking away. The other carvings showed a tall man with a flowing cloak holding a massive staff, a large crystal embedded in the top. The style of the carvings was minimalist, but the face of the man looked somewhat familiar. He couldn't place it, but the nagging feeling persisted the longer he looked at the carving.

Varian felt himself reach into his pocket, pulling out the adder stone. He'd nearly forgotten it, in the scramble to avoid falling rocks and dropping to his death, but it was worth a try to use the stone again. It was warm even in the cold of the cavern. Like a little coal in the palm of his hand. The alchemist brought it up to his eye, looking at the door.

The air was infused with the same blue glow as the graveyard had been, though it was much thicker down in the caves than it had been on the surface. It was thick, like pea soup, nearly impossible to see though; wisps of the energy seemed to leak through the door, curling outward like smoke from a fire. Whatever was the cause of the magic in the area, it very obviously was behind the door.

The glow was so strong that Varian nearly missed the appearance of lettering appearing on the direct center of the door, glowing a brighter blue than the rest of the area. Words, surrounding the image of a full chalice. He peered closer, squinting through the glow, struggling to read through the oppressive light.

"From the scion, a sacrifice," he read out loud, his voice quiet. It still seemed to echo; the clinking noises from behind him stopped.

"What?" Rapunzel asked. Varian didn't turn to look at her, letting his hand drop.

"There's an inscription, like on the note. It says From the scion, a sacrifice."

Rapunzel looked put off by the wording, pursing her lips.

"That sounds ominous," Eugene pipped up. He unscrewed a lid off a jar, shaking the provisions inside. "Hopefully it's a metaphorical sacrifice, because you know the raccoon is going to try and kill me first."

Ruddiger let out a chirp, sticking out his little tongue at Eugene, who returned the motion. Varian sighed, stuffing the adder stone back into his pocket and walking the few feet to his friends. When Eugene passed him the jar, filled with dried meat, he took his share without complaint. Now that he was able to sit, Varian felt the exhaustion of the past day all at once—a weary ache that dug deep into his bones and make his legs feel like jelly. He sighed, something tired, and chewed on his food, looking away from the door for now, and resigning to taking a break.

In the dim torchlight, they finally were allowed to rest.

>>>><<<<

"I have a question."

Eugene's voice was quiet, but still rang over the sound of gentle flames. Varian looked up from where he'd been inspecting the door. The man wandered over from where he'd been relaxing, taking a small rest before they'd continue. Varian couldn't begrudge him that; they'd been walking for hours before finally hitting this room, and then after the near-death experience with the trap... well, he should probably be resting too.

Not now, though. Too much to do.

"Shoot," he said, turning back to the door.

Eugene flopped down on the stone next to him, shuffling a little to get comfortable. Varian peered closer at one of the carvings, one of what looked like Barviel Keep in mid-construction... odd, it seemed to be documenting history from ages ago, almost like it was someone’s life story from that time. Interesting, to say the least. Rapunzel had wandered off a time ago, hoping to find something of interest out in the dark. Varian hadn’t seen her in almost a half hour; a part of him felt badly for the relief it brought him.

Eugene popped his lips a bit; Varian sighed a bit at the sound, knowing it meant Eugene was trying to figure out where to start. Meaning this conversation wasn't going to be quick nor painless.

"I have to ask," the man started, "Are we positive that your mom is the one down here."

Varian bit his lip, turning away from the carving all together.

"I don't know what else could be."

Eugene didn't seem to like that answer. "Look, I know that you think it's her, but don't you think this whole thing is a little extreme? We're in a labyrinth, under a graveyard, on a barely populated island. How would she survive down here for so long?"

Varian paused. He hadn't really thought of that, caught up in the swell of excitement. Eugene... had a point, much as he hated to admit it. He bit at his lip, not saying anything.

Eugene persisted, gently. Much gentler than Rapunzel had been, at least. "I want it to be her, too," he said, "I do. But at the end of the day, we're in the dark about a lot here. We don't even know if the note's real-"

"I know." Varian's voice was barely above a whisper. Eugene seemed taken aback, blinking, but Varian didn't falter. "I know. It's a long shot, and it's irrational for me to keep... chasing this." Eugene opened his mouth to interrupt, but Varian didn't let him cut in. "It is, don't lie to me. I know that Rapunzel's probably right. But even if it's not— even if it turns out that it's something else, I'm here for a reason. The note was addressed to me, Rapunzel said it was left in my lab. Whatever is behind that door... I dunno, maybe it'll help me find the ending of all of this. Let me put it to bed."

Eugene nodded; his eyes were sympathetic. "You know better than that," he said, not unkindly. "You do. You know that things don't just... end, they don't stop when you think you're done."

"I want them to," Varian admitted. "I wanted to leave home so I could force it."

Eugene huffed a small laugh, patting him on the back. "I wish, kid. I have more than one day I'd love to forget. But we both know that’s not how things work. Gotta keep going, one day at a time, right?"

Varian didn't reply, looking back at the door. It was as solid as ever, taunting him, mocking him. Whatever it was he was looking for, it was behind that wall of stone. He knew it was. Varian pursed his lips, his expression turning sour.

"Right."

There was a pause, not awkward, but poignant. Varian couldn't help but feel a little... raw from having this brought up again, but Eugene always seemed to know how to keep things calmer between them. When it was Varian and Rapunzel, usually things ended up swept under the rug, left to be forgotten. Nothing ever really got addressed, unless it was with a big blowup between them. Eugene, at least, was willing to hear Varian out, and consider his side of things.

"Think of it this way," Eugene continued. "If you had left, like you wanted. Would that make Quirin not your dad?"

"No, but-"

"And would sunshine and I just stop being your friends?"

"Of course not." Varian could see where this was going, "But it would make people stop looking at me like... they'd stop being weird, around me."

"Kid, I'm going to break it to you, they're all weird, in general. That's just how they are. But the point is that no matter where you vanish to, the good things won't leave you behind. Neither will the bad. Now, I think you're a big boy now." He jabbed an elbow into Varian's side, "And you can handle yourself. So, if you decide, after this, you still want to go… I'll help you pack your bags. Just remember to come back sometime, yaknow? There's only so long I can hang out with Stan and Pete before I snap."

Varian snorted a laugh and shook his head. "I don't know what I want," he admitted. "I want to go home, for now at least. I... I want my dad, a lot. I want to forget Bayangor ever happened," he muttered, "And everyone expects me to, but I just can't."

"And that's why you're chasing this?"

The alchemist nodded. "It's a... a goal. Something I can work toward. Something solid." He toyed with the edge of his boot, thinking.

Eugene pursed his lips. "And if it's not her?" he asked, "Then what?"

"Then I deal with it then," the alchemist replied. "And we see where to go from there."

Eugene smiled, bumping his shoulder. "That's my boy," he said quietly, "Ever the optimist."

Varian snorted, reaching over to run a hand along the carvings. Nothing had changed in the time he'd been inspecting it— just the same carvings and the same, strange clue.

"From the scion, a sacrifice," he murmured, lost in thought. The door remained closed; it obviously wasn't a password. "Hm. It sounds familiar, but I can't place it."

Eugene squinted at the door, tilting his head. "Was it something that Ori guy said? He was a magic guy. Or Xavier? I wouldn't blame you for forgetting if it were Xavier, I love the guy but most of his rambles just go right over my head."

Varian shook his head. "No, not them." He had half an idea, but he didn't enjoy the implications. "I think it was Meave."

"The woman who took care of you?"

"She was the librarian," Varian's voice was a million miles away, the boy pushing to his feet in thought. "I think she just enjoyed having a captive audience for her rambling, but yes, she helped me a lot back then. And she was also F-Aldred's main source of magical information. She was the one who got the, uh, the crown. Working."

He trailed off, feeling awkward after trying to explain. Meave had been kind to him, but that certainly wasn't her job— she'd been nice to him because she wanted to be, and he felt that was important. Varian turned away, looking back to the door.

The carvings were focused around one person, it seemed. A man, who started in the Wildshore Isles and moved on to Bayangor with a large army. In his hand he carried a large staff. It seemed to glow, from the way large rays of light were flowing out of it. From the look of the inscriptions, the man had left the island with another man, the two of them leading a large army to Bayangor. If Varian had to guess, it seemed like the two of them took the area for themselves, establishing a city and building what would eventually become Barviel Keep.

Varian pondered, rubbing at his chin. It had been months since he'd thought back to the more insidious things Meave had been forced into while they knew each other; he preferred to remember her for her wide knowledge of herbs and the mythical side of things, electing to let the darker aspects fall into memory.

"Ah, right." Eugene looked concerned. "And we want to listen to the crown lady because?"

"Because she knew what she was talking about," Varian replied. "When she was getting the crown ready, I remember it took time because... because it needed blood."

"Excuse me?"

"It was like a... transfer. A transaction. She fed the curse a little blood every day— because she was stalling for time. She wanted to give you and Rapunzel as long as possible to get to the Keep before it was ready. But she said that all spells take a trade of some kind. Like memories, or energy." He began to slowly take his glove off, looking to Eugene.

"Or blood."

The man flinched, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Isn't that a little extreme?" he asked, trying to joke. Varian didn't take the bait, holding his hand out.

"Only if you're not serious about it," he replied. "Can I borrow your knife?"

Eugene went white. "I don't like where this is going."

"You don't have to."

Eugene pushed himself to his feet, holding up his hands. "Okay, how about this." He rubbed his hands together. "I'll do it, that way you don't hurt yourself."

Varian paused, before shaking his head.

"I think it has to be me," he admitted. "It says from the scion. A scion is a descendant, an heir. if my theory is right, it won't open for anyone's blood, only people who are related to the guy from the carvings. It has carvings of the Keep on it— I can’t see anyone else being the right choice."

Eugene's frown only got bigger. "I know I just said that you're a big kid who can take care of himself— but that doesn't mean we just get to go hurting ourselves and feeding our blood to the big, spooky door on a hunch!"

Varian scoffed, wiggling his fingers. "You know it's not like that, I just explained it. And I'm just going to poke my finger, barely worse than a paper cut. I'm the one who's scared of blood, Eugene, c'mon." The man still didn't seem ready to budge, so Varian switched tactics. "You wanna get out of here, right? This could be our only shot. It's through that door or back to the stairs and trying to dig them out."

That did it. Eugene grimaced but still took the small knife from its place on his belt. The man shook his head; wincing when Varian quietly turned the blade on himself and pressed his thumb into the blade. The boy didn't make a noise, gritting his teeth against the slight sting and pulling the blade away to reveal a small cut deep in the pad of his thumb. Blood, thick and ruby red, welled immediately, glistening in the torchlight.

Satisfied, Varian passed the knife back to Eugene. The man absently wiped the blade on the edge of his jacket before stowing it away in its sheath; Varian tried to ignore the way the red stuck out against the ceremonial gold. The boy held his hand awkwardly, trying to keep the blood from dripping all over the floor, and approached the door.

He scanned over the carvings once again, including the area where the inscription was. Varian's eyes were drawn toward the chalice in the center of the clue, the gears in his brain turning already. Worth a try, he thought, reaching up and pressing his bloody thumb to the very center of the carving. Eugene made a small noise, the man obviously uncomfortable with the direction this whole thing had taken. It echoed in the cavern. Both males waited, breath caught, for something to happen.

Varian slowly took his thumb away, leaving a small splash of crimson on the grey stone; a poppy in a sea of santolinas. He took a step back, apprehensive. He had no idea what would happen if he was right— or, more specifically, if he was wrong.

There was a split-second pause— enough for Varian to start doubting himself— before, with a great shuddering crack, the door began to glow.

Bright white light, pure and brilliant, began to illuminate the carving of the chalice. It began to move along the divots of the door, filling the crevices like water in a trough. Varian was forced to throw an arm up, covering his eyes from the blinding light with a splayed hand. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Eugene do the same. Varian might have screamed, he wasn't sure; a heavy rumbling began to shake the room as the light hit the outer border of the door.

The cracks between door and threshold lit up with an aggressive glow, worse even than the rest of the light. Rumbling shook the floor below Varian's feet. He stumbled, nearly knocking into Eugene behind him as he tried to get his footing; the older man caught him by the arms, keeping Varian upright. The shaking only got worse, disturbing rocks from the ceiling and sending them dropping to the floor. Eugene pulled Varian to the side with a yelp, the two of them narrowly dodging a falling stone that fell to the floor with a great crash.

As soon as it had started, the light suddenly cut off, the room going dark. Varian blinked the spots from his vision, feeling nearly blind after being exposed to such a bight brilliance after so long trapped in the dark. His night vision was shot, so he couldn't see much in the weak torchlight, but he still was able to hear a great groaning noise, like the grumbling of a slumbering beast that had just been rudely awoken.

The noise of stone grating on stone filled the cavern, and Varian's vision finally cleared enough for him to see as the door began to split down the center in a clean line. With a great, shuddering creak the door opened; a rush of air blew past Varian and Eugene, nearly strong enough to knock them off their feet. Eugene definitely shouted something. Varian registered Eugene throwing a protective arm out in front of his charge, pushing the alchemist back a little and blocking the worst of the wind with his own body. Without thinking, the boy latched onto his friend's arm— lest he get swept away in the wind.

The wind died in a final puff. Varian uncurled himself from where he'd been huddled close to Eugene, blinking and waving the dust away from his face. He coughed, pushing back a sneeze as the air began to settle. Varian looked up to Eugene, blinking in shock before snorting through his nose. He covered his mouth, holding back a laugh at the sight of the man.

Eugene's brunet hair was wild, sticking up in every direction from the wind. His eyes were wide, blinking in shock at the sudden quiet, and his clothes were covered in dust. When the man caught sight of Varian trying to keep from laughing, he scowled, pushing playfully at the boy.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he grumbled, "Last time I use myself as a meat shield for you."

"I'm sorry," Varian snickered, "I'm sorry, are you okay?"

Eugene grumbled wordlessly as he fixed his hair. "Do you know how long this takes to get ready?" he whined, "I don't just wake up looking like this, kid!"

Varian shook his head, laughing softly. He heard rushed footsteps from the side, looking down another hall to see Rapunzel sprinting through the dark.

"Are you guys okay?!" She skid to a stop, arms reaching for Varian. The boy sidestepped her, ducking around her hands, and walking toward the doorway. He tried to ignore her hurt face, instead opting to focus on the area that had been hidden behind the door. Varian stood in the threshold, mouth wide open at what lay within.

"We're fine, sunshine," Eugene said, patting his wife's arm consolingly, "Varian just figured out how to get the door open— hey, kid? Are you okay?"

The boy didn't answer, taking a step into the large, open space behind the door.

"Varian?"

"Kid?"

He ignored both of their worried calls, entering the room properly and looking around with wide eyes. If there were anything he'd been expecting to see... this wasn't it.

The space behind the door was massive, a circular room of nearly fifty feet diameter. The floor was carved out into layers, each one descending deeper into the earth and covered in large tiles of polished marble. Though the torches lit up the same as the rest of the cavern, they weren't the main source of light; in the center of the ceiling was a massive dome of glass and iron, allowing bright moonlight to shine through and into the room. In the light, Varian was able to see the entire space. Spaced around the outside wall in perfect increments were large boxes of stone, each surrounding what looked like a large door. They were all at least six feet tall, by about two feet deep, jutting out from the wall and into the room.

In the very center, bathed in the white light, was an ornate box, the same size as the others, with one key difference. While the others were covered in gold and fine carvings, they had nothing on this main structure, set on a large podium and surrounded in intricate mosaics. Varian took another step into the space, his stomach slowly dropping as he realized what, exactly, the tunnels were.

They weren't, as he'd originally thought, a bunker system, nor were they the remnants of an old civilization like Rapunzel had hoped. This room confirmed his worst fear. They weren't standing in a secret hideout.

They were standing in a tomb.

Varian was unable to tear his eyes away from the coffin in the middle of the room. A sudden feeling of dread started deep in his gut, a feeling like he'd just made a terrible mistake. He couldn't shake it, the feeling digging deeper and deeper into his chest and dragging more doubt to the surface.

He heard footsteps behind him, turning to see Rapunzel and Eugene had followed him into the amphitheater. They were both pale, surely coming to the same conclusion Varian had.

Aisha wasn't here. From the look of the dust on the floor she'd never been here.

The foreboding feeling only got worse.

"Well, this is... unexpected," Eugene said, peering up into the night sky. When his head tilted back down he must have seen the look on Varian's face, as he forced a smile onto his face. "At least we found a way out, right?"

"...Right," Varian replied. He drew closer to the main coffin, on a pedestal down a short flight of stairs, and looked over the carving on the lid. It was a perfect visage of a man, probably the same one from the carvings on the door. He was lying on his back, as if asleep, holding a stone chalice in both hands. In full detail, however, Varian could see the similarities in jawline and nose structure to his own; if that weren't enough, the very obvious stripe in his hair, a carved piece of turquoise, was enough of a clue.

It wasn't Aldred. But it was someone he'd seen the painting of, in Barveil's halls.

Geldam of Wildshore, the man who'd taken Bayangor. Who'd built Barviel Keep. Who'd betrayed Ori— and Merrick's— ancestor, and gotten their bloodline cursed. Branded his bloodline with teal and raven hair.

Varian felt the sudden urge to scream.

He was so caught up in the fact that he'd been effectively duped, tricked into opening the grave of his unwanted ancestor, that for a second Varian nearly missed a loud CRACK ring out from the room behind him. He still turned, however, when he heard Eugene curse.

The boy turned, locking eyes with a male figure. He stood tall, leaning on the doorway between the grave room and the trap outside, deceptively casual. Varian felt himself lock up in terror, horrified blue eyes meeting with toxic green.

Merrick looked smug, smirking at the three Coronians with malice. He didn't move when he was noticed, acting like he had every right to be there.

"Well, well, well..." he said with a mocking laugh. "Isn't this interesting."

#tangled #varian #tts #tangled the series #fic

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heauxplesslydevoted · 5 years ago

Text

Aftermath (Liam x MC)

Summary: Aftermath of the car crash

Honestly...Liam just deserves a space to be emotional, and angry, and vulnerable, and I decided to be the one to give him that. It’s been a rough few chapters for him, dealing with all of this stuff with his mom, and now his wife. I wrote this for purely selfish reasons.

Word Count: 6.6K. Sorry. I couldn’t stop myself.

Tags: @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @aworldoffandoms @badchoicesposts @doroshi-desu @senseofduties

~~~~

Liam tries to ignore the ringing in his head as he sits anxiously in the waiting room of the hospital. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Maxwell on the phone, probably talking to Bertrand. And he can hear his friends talking — maybe Olivia or Hana, he doesn’t know — but it sounds like white noise. He has a singular thing on his mind: his wife and child.

Kendall was transported via helicopter to a hospital in the Capital, Liam riding along with her while the rest of their group followed behind. Now the entire gang, minus Kendall and Bastien, is sitting in a luxurious private sitting area, waiting on updates. The room is thankfully secluded from most of the hospital, and large, with comfortable couches, magazines, and a flat screen tv mounted on the wall. But no one cares. They’re all waiting on updates.

The image of the car crash is still fresh in Liam’s mind. The sickening crunch of metal as the car rammed into the road, the blinding lights of the paparazzi cameras, the sound of Kendall calling his name as they crashed.

Hit his stomach flips at the memory of his wife losing consciousness upon the arrival of the ambulance. She held out as long as she could, mostly due to adrenaline, but she eventually passed out.

It’s been three hours and he still hasn’t heard anything. Everyone else was treated for their injuries — mostly some cuts and bruises, save for Bastien who was getting treated for his shoulder — except for Kendall. And himself, because he refuses to leave the waiting area until he gets some answers.

“Liam,” Drake says softly, shaking his friend’s shoulder, “Liam, you should really get your head checked out.”

“I’m fine,” Liam says, his eyes never leaving the tiled floors.

“Dude, you can have a concussion or something. We can at least have a nurse come out here,” Drake suggests. He’s trying his hardest to be useful in this situation. The helplessness is driving him insane.

“I’m fine,” Liam repeats, much more aggressive this.

“Just leave it alone, Drake,” Olivia says softly, cutting in. “Leave him alone.”

“But–”

“Leave it alone.” Olivia knows all too well the feeling of being trapped and helpless, but until they get an update on Kendall, there isn’t much anyone can do for Liam. He’s not going to budge. “Please.”

Drake sighs but ultimately backs down. He glances around the room, spotting a fancy coffee maker on the counter. “How about I make some coffee. Does anyone want a cup?”

“Sure,” Maxwell says. It’s obvious that Drake is going to find a way to do something, so someone has to humor him. “Give me the strongest cup you got.”

“Coming right up.”

There’s a knock on the door, and in walks Bastien. His arm is in a sling, there’s a small cut on his upper lip from a shard of glass slicing him, and he walks with a slight limp. He’s also holding a plastic bag in his hand, holding some personal belongings.

He walks over to Liam who promptly stands up. Bastien greets him with a slight bow. “Your Majesty.”

“Bastien. How are you feeling?”

“I’m a little banged up, but I’ve been worse. My shoulder should heal within a few weeks.”

“You’re limping,” Liam points out.

“I just sprained my ankle. I can handle it, sir.”

“Once this is all settled, I want you on paid vacation for the next three weeks,” Liam says.

“Sir, that’s not necessary.”

“It is, and you’ll take it, I insist. Go out, enjoy some time off, rest up and properly heal your injury. The rest of our security team can handle it, and trust me, after tonight, we’ll be doubling, even tripling our security measures.”

Bastien’s head drops at the mention of what happened just a few short hours ago. “Your Majesty, I am so sorry about what happened tonight.”

“Bastien it’s not your fault.”

“But–”

“Someone recklessly ran into us and you made a snap decision in an attempt to keep us safe. It was a high stress situation. I don’t blame you, I blame Sam-” Liam can’t even say his name without his skin feeling like it’s going to burst into flames. “You made the right call in a snap decision.”

“I should’ve had more security measures in place at the bookstore,” Bastien continues. He can’t help but feel guilty.

“Bastien, I won’t have you blaming yourself. That’s a direct order from your King.”

Bastien nods after a few seconds of silence. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Now, as for the person who did this, are there any updates on his condition?”

In all honesty, a part of Liam hoped that the man was dead. It would be the swift justice he deserved after what he did.

“Nothing more than a few cuts and scrapes when I last saw him,” Bastien answers regretfully. “He fled the scene.”

Liam clenches his fist together tightly. So his Queen is in the hospital fighting for her life, while the perpetrator gets away minor injuries?

He closes his eyes and silently counts to 3 in his head, calming himself down. Unbridled rage in a situation like this will do him no good.

So he pivots. He points to the large bag in Bastien’s hand. “What’s in there?”

Bastien opens the bag and lifts out a large camera. “This...is Samir’s camera. I managed to confiscate it from him at the scene of the accident before he ran off.”

Liam takes the camera out of Bastien’s hands and observes it thoughtfully. He carefully touches it, noting that it’s not too banged up. “It’s in surprisingly good condition,” he muses. “Did you go through it?”

“...Yes. And I’ll dispose of it right away.”

“I want to see the photos.”

“Sir,” Bastien starts, “with all due respect, I don’t advise you to do that. The images are...quite disturbing.”

Liam ignores his guard and powers the camera to life. He scrolls through the photos, skipping through ones of celebrities and socialites around Cordonia. He then stumbles on the pictures of them tonight. Ones of them exiting the book store. There’s a few progression shots of Kendall holding up her hand, trying to shield her face from the flashing lights, another hand wrapped tightly around her stomach.

There’s more of them, photos of their friends ushering Kendall in the car and driving off. And then there are lots of them that he took while he was driving alongside them on the road. Liam’s chest clenches tightly at the panicked and wide-eyed look on his wife’s face.

He’s not prepared for the next set of pictures. They’re right after the car crash, and Liam can see everything so vividly. The shattered glass, the smoke from the engine, skid marks on the snow, everything. Liam’s breath catches in his throat as he sees a photo of Kendall, trapped in her seat. He can practically feel the fear and anxiousness rolling off of her in these photos, and it feels like he can’t breathe.

Samir has the audacity to still take photos of them after he caused the accident? While Kendall was lying there, injured and scared out of her mind?

At this point, Liam can feel his hands trembling uncontrollably and the sound of his pulse pounds fiercely in his head. Having seen more than enough, Liam takes the memory card out of the camera and puts it in his pocket. Without warning and an incredible bout of strength, he hurls the camera forward with an incredible speed. It narrowly misses Maxwell’s head and he has to duck out of the way as the camera hits the wall, shattering into tiny little pieces as it drops to the floor.

The room gets so silent, you can hear a pin drop across the street. No one says anything about Liam’s outburst. They silently wait for him to make his next move.

All Liam can feel in his blood is white hot rage over the situation. It’s stifling and it threatens to swallow him whole. Involuntarily, he clenches and unclenches his hand and the next thing he sees is his fist connecting with the wall. He doesn’t register the pain though, too worked up to actually feel anything at this point.

“Lady Hana, can you please find a nurse?” Bastien asks, his eyes never leaving Liam. He’s seen his King mad before, hell, he’s even seen him downright pissed. But this...this is something he’s never experienced before, and he doesn’t know how to subdue Liam in this moment.

“Of course.” Hana rises from her seat and quickly scrambles out of the room.

After a few moments of silence, Liam removes his fist from the wall. He looks down at it in a daze. He can already see it swelling up, and his knuckles turning an ugly shade of purple.

He ignores his hand and turns back to Bastien. “I want him found, immediately. I want law enforcement, airports, and train stations to all be aware that he’s on the loose and he is not to leave the station. Check all the ports too, and make sure he doesn’t try to sneak out of here via boat. I want him brought directly to me.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And give me information on what tabloids he was going to sell those pictures too. And if you can get the names of the paps who caused that scene in the Lythikos and if there were any other paparazzi chasing us, that’d be great as well.”

Bastien nods. “I’ll get in touch with the other royal guards and we’ll get started right away.”

“Thank you.”

Bastien exits the room and a few minutes later, Hana returns with a nurse, who’s carrying a ton of supplies in her hands.

As the nurse makes her way over to Liam to tend to his hand, Hana sinks back into her seat next to Olivia. “Were there any updates while I was gone?”

Olivia shakes her head. “No. The waiting game continues.”

~V~

An hour later, they’re still in the waiting room, anxiously waiting on an update about Kendall. The entire gang is there, except they’re now joined by Bertrand, Savannah, Regina and Leo, who was in Rome when Bastien called and said he was needed in Cordonia.

“I called a few of my personal security connections and they’re doing a very thorough sweep of Lythikos to ensure that all of the press that was there are brought to the capital,” Olivia tells Liam. It’s really the least she can do. They were visiting her duchy, she should’ve been able to keep them safe.

Liam nods, acknowledging that he did hear the Duchess, but doesn’t say anything. The more time that goes by without any update on his wife and child, the more reclusive he becomes.

Leo smiles. “Thank you Olivia, it’s really appreciated.”

“Of course. If there’s anything else I can do to help, I’ll do it.”

“Can you heal Kendall?” Liam asks.

The question catches Olivia off guard, and she doesn’t know if Liam is being serious or using sarcasm. “W-What?”

“You want to be useful, right? You want to help? Can you magically become a doctor within the next 5 seconds and actually work on her treatment? Perhaps you can make sure she hasn’t gone into preterm labor, or I don’t know, swap our bodies, so she’s the one out here and I’m the patient. Maybe you have the ability to turn back time so this horrible night never happened.” His eyes sweep around the room. “Can any of you do those things? Because that’s all I want in this moment. I don’t want any fucking cheap hospital coffee, I don’t want to eat something, I don’t want take a nap, I don’t want any more of your bullshit platitudes about how strong and brave Kendall is in an attempt to placate me. I know how strong my wife is, but our car wrapped around a fucking pole, and she’s not invincible. So until anyone can give me any of those, how about everyone stop trying to pacify me.”

“Okay,” Olivia says. She’s not going to press the issue and potentially agitate Liam further. He just needs silent support in this moment, nothing else. And she can do that. She just sits down in the chair next to him and looks straight ahead.

Time ticks by slowly, and when Liam checks the clock on that wall, it’s almost 2 in the morning. He’s exhausted, but he refuses to fall asleep, though most of his friends have dozed.

There’s a knock on the waiting room door and Liam jumps to his feet, hoping to see Kendall’s doctor. Instead he’s greeted by Madeleine. She’s dressed impeccably, in a signature green dress, and clipped back hair. She’s carrying a large garment bag in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other.

Liam falters once he realizes who it is. “Oh, hello Madeleine.”

“Liam,” Madeleine greets back. “Any updates on Kendall’s condition?”

“No.”

“Have you talked to law enforcement?” Madeleine asks.

“No.”

“Maddy, I think this conversation should be tabled for a later time,” Olivia hisses.

Madeline dismisses Olivia’s suggestion with a flick of the wrist. “I think you should talk to them while everything is still fresh in your mind.”

“I’m not talking to anyone or going anywhere until I talk to Kendall’s doctors.”

“There’s a herd of people outside of the hospital,” Madeleine says. She drops the garment bag onto an empty chair. “I almost wasn’t let in, until they realized I worked for the palace. Everyone is waiting on their king to make an official statement about what happened.”

“I’m not crafting a speech right now, Madeleine.”

“It’s a good thing you have me on your team because I’ve already prepared some talking points for you,” Madeleine announces proudly. “I don’t know if you want to convey a somber tone or a fiery, passionate one, but I have tweaks in the event of either one. I personally think we should go with a somber note. Let them feel all of your emotions, your hurt, your anguish. Obviously you condemn the people who did this, but don’t go full on angry. You should still be the pinnacle of calm and dignified that the Cordonian people have come to love. And I brought you a suit to change into, because no offense, you’re still wearing the one you crashed in and it’s–”

Liam reaches out and forcefully grabs Madeleine’s arm, yanking her towards him and making her drop the cup of coffee she’s holding. It happens so fast, Olivia barely has time to react, but she stands up beside Liam nonetheless. “Madeleine, I put up with a lot of your unnecessary, invasive bullshit on a daily basis. Kendall and I take your shitty attitude, your disapproving looks and your passive aggressive comments in stride because you’re somewhat decent at your job and you have absolute tunnel vision when it comes to the Crown and Cordonia as a whole. But what I am not about to do is dress up and be your puppet and give a ridiculous speech in front of the very vultures who caused this situation.”

“I don’t know whether my wife and child are going to make it through the night, and you think I give even the tiniest fuck about a statement? You think I want to put on a brave face right now and go settle someone else’s nerves right now, I don’t give a damn about how people view me?” His grip on her arm tightens and his voice drops to an incredibly low octave. “Now I know you aren’t able to feel empathy towards people because you’re a cold hearted, advantageous viper and you probably have a shriveled up lump of coal in the cavity where your heart is supposed to reside, but can you at least pretend to have some sort of human decency? I am not doing a goddamn thing until I have a doctor tell me to my face that Kendall is alive and well. Am. I. Clear?”

Madeleine has never seen Liam like this before. His usually warm and inviting eyes are darker than the midnight sky and even though he hadn’t raised his voice once, she can practically feel the venom dripping from his tongue. She swallows the lump forming in her throat and nods. “Crystal.”

“Good.” Liam drops her arm and Madeleine releases a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. “And when this is all over, we are going to have a very serious conversation about your position on our team”

Having had enough of being cooped up in a room with so many people, Liam decides to exit. Thankfully, the halls are empty due to how late it is and he can roam around in peace.

“Liam!” Liam stops dead in his tracks and turns around. Leo is jogging towards him trying to catch up.

“Leo, what do you want?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve scared Madeleine shitless. I’ve never seen her rendered speechless before.”

“Good. She talks too much.”

“Amen, brother.”

“Look Leo, I really don’t want to be bothered right now.”

“I know.”

“So...you can leave.”

“I can’t do that. You aren’t going to scare me off like you’re able to do with everyone else, and I am not going to let you bottle everything up inside. So, can you please talk to me?”

“And say what?”

“Anything! I know you’re pissed–”

“I’m not pissed, I’m downright furious,” Liam says.

“Good. You have every right to be,” Leo goads. He wants Liam to talk. He’s an expert at holding his feelings close and burying things down deep.

“I don’t think I’ve been this mad since I found out that dad was the one behind the scandal with Kendall and Tariq. These vultures just prey on her. They don’t even see her as human anymore, let alone as their Queen. Kendall is just a commodity to them, to be exploited and sold to the highest bidder. From the moment we got married up to now, it has been invasion after invasion.”

“Why didn’t you tell me things had gotten so bad?” Leo asks.

Liam shrugs. He’s accepted the press as a part of his life early on, and didn’t think much of it. And until recently he was relatively good terms with a lot of reporters and paparazzi. “I don’t know. Dealing with the press is just par for the course.”

“Yes, you’re a king and yes your life is public, but that doesn’t mean it’s open season on your family. Sometimes I don’t think you realize that you don’t have to always be so...nice. So benevolent and forgiving. You’re the fucking King, and you have the right flex whatever muscle you have in order to let people know that there are certain things that they can and cannot do.”

Liam sighs. He’s never wanted to rule with an iron fist and be seen as evil tyrant, squashing anyone who dares look at him the wrong way. He’s always wanted his people to feel comfortable around him.

“You can still be yourself,” Leo continues as if he’s reading Liam’s mind. “But they need to know that this will never happen again.”

“You’re right.”

“And if you need some support, I’ll be around to help,” Leo adds.

“Thank you.”

The men continue their trek up and down the hall, falling into a comfortable silence. Leo knows Liam isn’t in the mood for idle small talk, as he has much bigger things in his mind.

The brothers are startled out of their simple walk by a doctor walking towards them. He bows upon reaching Liam. “Your Majesty, hello.”

“Hi.”

“I’m Doctor Saunders, I’m one of the attending general surgeons here at the hospital.” The doctor extends his hand, and Liam eagerly shakes it. “I am one of the surgeons assigned to your wife’s case.”

“Of course. What’s going on? We haven’t heard anything and we’ve been here for hours and no one has told us anything.”

“Good news first, Her Majesty and the baby are okay and they made it through surgery beautifully,” Dr. Saunders says.

Relief flows through Liam’s body and his knees buckle at the news. Leo hooks an arm under his brother’s arm, keeping him upright. “T-They’re okay?”

Dr. Saunders nods, happy to give the King such good news. “Yes. The Queen is not in any distress, there’s no sign of preterm labor, the baby has a stable heart beat and the placenta is still in tact, which are all great.”

“What happened to her?”

“The impact of the crash caused abdominal trauma. There was some internal bleeding that we had to get under control, and her spleen ruptured so we had to remove it. Thankfully, you can live a long and productive life without a spleen, but going forward, Her Majesty will be more susceptible to infection and may have a weaker immune system. Since she’s pregnant and we had to perform an open surgery, her recovery time will be about 4 to 6 weeks, but we expect her to be back to herself in no time. And she did break one rib and bruise two others. Now there’s no way to fix a broken rib, except with rest and time, so she’ll be a bit sore for a while and she’s going to have to take it easy.”

“Of course.” Kendall isn’t going to have to lift a finger, not on his watch. “Where is she now? Can I see her?”

“She’s being settled into her room right now, but yes I can take you.”

Liam starts to follow the doctor, but stops in his tracks to turn to his brother. Leo waves him off. “I’ll tell everyone the news. Go see your wife.”

~V~

The sun is finally starting to rise when Kendall is lulled out of her sleep. It takes her a minute to understand her surroundings. The noise, the itchy blankets, the overwhelming smell of disinfectant. She’s definitely not in her own bed, at Valtoria or the Palace.

She looks around the room as her eyes slowly adjust to the light and she finally spots her husband. He’s on a pull out couch, curled into the fetal position.

“Liam?” She says, her voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. She clears her throat and attempts to speak again. “Liam?”

He stirs in his sleep and mumbles, “Mhmmm.”

“Liam!” Kendall repeats, a bit more forcefully.

The third time manages to get his attention and he wakes up from his sleep. He sees Kendall and he springs off of the couch. “Kendall? Oh Kendall, my love, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“Why are we at the hospital?”

“Do you remember anything? The last thing that happened?”

“We were in Lythikos for Maxwell’s book signing,” Kendall recalls.

“Anything else?”

“And as we were leaving, there was a mob of reporters outside of the bookstore. And we tried to get them to back off, but they were relentless. And once we got into the car, they still chased us and…” her voice trails off and she closes her eyes, trying to think. Everything is still slightly foggy. But then she remembers. The crash. “Oh my God, Liam! Someone hit us! Is everyone okay? Is the baby okay?”

Kendall tries to sit up as the panic sets in, but an overwhelming amount of pain shoots through her stomach, rendering her motionless.

Liam puts his hands on her arms, keeping her in place. “Easy, love. No sudden movements, you’ve just had surgery.”

“Surgery? Surgery for what?”

“First things first, the baby is fine,” Liam assures her. He points to one of the monitors surround her bedside. “See that? That’s our baby’s heart rate, nice and steady.” Hearing that their baby is okay instantly calms her down. “And you had surgery because your spleen ruptured, so the doctors had to remove it. And you broke a rib.”

“But the baby is fine?”

“As perfect as ever.”

Kendall settles back into the bed, relief coursing through her body. As long as her child was okay, she could handle everything else. “Good.”

Liam calls for Kendall’s doctors to come to her room, letting them know that she’s awake and alert. After checking all of her vitals, giving her a very thorough examination, and explaining the extent of her injuries, they let her know that she’ll be in the hospital for a few more days and leave once again.

Soon, all of their friends and family come to visit her, elated that she’s okay. The once spacious room is packed wall-to-wall with people. Flowers, cards, and balloons fill up all the remaining space.

“You gave us quite a scare, Little Blossom,” Maxwell chides. “You don’t get to scare us like that ever again.”

Olivia scoffs. “Oh please, speak for yourself. I knew she’d be fine. Kendall is much tougher than she looks.”

“Aww, Olivia,” Kendall coos. “I knew you loved me.”

“Must you always push things too far?” Olivia asks. She rolls her eyes, Kendall notices the small smile tugging on the corner of her lip.

“Yes.”

“Is there anything we can get for you, Mason?” Drake asks. “Is it warm enough in here? Do you need more blankets? Because I can flag down a nurse and get you more blankets.”

“Nonsense,” Bertrand says. “I’ll go to the store and get some cashmere blankets and silk pajamas for her. If our pregnant Queen is going to be staying in the hospital for a few days, it might as well be in comfort and luxury.”

“You guys spoil me too much. But Bertrand, I will absolutely accept a cashmere blanket.”

“Of course.”

Hana steps up, holding a large box. “We don’t know if you can eat, but just in case you can, I went to your favorite bakery and got you a dozen cronuts.”

Kendall’s mouth waters at the mention of her favorite pastry and the baby kicks excitedly. “Hana, you win.”

“Yay.”

“I can’t eat cronuts yet, but I’ll definitely save them–,” Kendall yawns mid sentence, “for later.”

“While it’s been great to see everyone, and I’m thankful you all came back, I think my wife needs her rest,” Liam says. “It’s been a long 24 hours.”

Regina nods, “We understand. Call us if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.”

Everyone says their goodbyes to Kendall and Liam, showering her with hugs and affectionate hand squeezes before filing out of her suite.

Liam sits down in a leather chair at her bedside and sighs. He’s absolutely exhausted, and Kendall knows it.

“You should get some sleep too.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m fine. I slept for a few hours earlier.” He just doesn’t want to take his eyes off of her, not even for a moment.

Kendall gently places a palm onto her stomach, careful of the stitches from her surgery. “Your daddy is stubborn.” The baby kicks and Kendall giggles. “They agree with me.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” She takes Liam’s hand and presses it against her stomach. “Tell daddy he’s being stubborn, little one.” The baby kicks again. “See? I told you.”

“You two are already ganging up on me?”

“Yup. And you love it.”

He nods slightly. “I love everything you do.”

“Smart answer.” She notices his hand, tightly bandaged up and covered in a brace. She didn’t notice it before, with everyone focusing all of the attention on her. “What happened to your hand?”

Liam almost forgot he bruised his hand the night before, so worried about Kendall he barely registered the pain and discomfort. “It’s nothing. Just...fallout from the accident.”

“Is it broken?”

“No. Just a sprain.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s wrapped so tightly, I barely feel a thing. Don’t worry about me, my love, it’ll be fine.”

Kendall wants to fret over Liam a bit more, but she’s knows he won’t let her. So she drops it. “Can you come close to me?”

“As if you even have to ask such a thing.” Liam scoots his chair much closer, and he places his head in Kendall’s lap. He can feel a pair of tiny little feet pushing against him, but he doesn’t mind. Kendall takes a hand and softly runs it along his head, massaging his scalp.

For the first time since yesterday, Liam feels at peace. Everything he needs is with him in this moment.

Now that everything is sort of settling down, the weight of the situation dawns on Liam. Kendall could’ve died, leaving their child without a mother. Or perhaps the baby could have, the baby they wanted for so long. Or worse, both of them could have been taken from him in an instant, over something as trivial as tabloid pictures.

It’s an overwhelming epiphany, one that threatens to snatch the air straight from his lungs.

“I could’ve lost you,” Liam says quietly, so quietly Kendall barely hears him.

“Hmm?”

“I could’ve lost you yesterday. You could’ve died, and our baby could’ve died, both of you.” Liam’s eyes sting with tears. “And it would’ve been all my fault.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s the truth. You gave up everything to come here, and you’ve dealt with more than your fair share of grief because of it. I was born into this, I accepted this life a long time ago when I stepped up to become the Crown Prince, you didn’t. You didn’t ask for any of this, and yet, you’ve received the brunt of the obstacles. Those vultures came after you because you’re the Queen, you’re my wife, and you’re carrying the heir.”

“They almost took you away from me last night.” The tears are falling freely at this point, but Liam doesn’t care. “I am so sorry. It’s my job to keep you and our baby safe, and I couldn’t protect you yesterday. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for it.”

Kendall cradles Liam head between her hands, forcing him to look at her. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him so distraught. “Liam, I don’t want you to blame yourself. I certainly don’t blame you. None of this is your fault, the only people responsible are the ones who forced Bastien off of the road.”

“But–”

“No buts. You don’t need to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time, Liam. You’ve done your best, and that’s all I need from you.”

Liam takes a shuddering breath, trying to calm down. Kendall grabs one of his hands and places it on her chest, letting him feel her steady heartbeat. “You feel that? I’m okay, we are okay. You don’t have to worry about losing me.”

Feeling the steady beat of her heart calms him almost instantly. He leans forward and kisses Kendall urgently, careful not to lean over her too much. Kendall kisses him back, tasting the saltiness of her husband’s tears.

“I love you,” Liam says, once he pulls away from the kiss. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“And I swear to you, nothing like this will ever happen again,” Liam assures. He’ll die before he gets this close to losing her ever again. He’ll kill, even. “And I promise there will be consequences for the people who put you in here.”

~V~

The next morning, Liam decides it’s finally time to do a press conference. Kendall seems to be in good spirits , and it’s clear that the press is not going to leave the front of the hospital without some sort of statement. So, Liam showers and changes into the fresh suit Madeleine brought for him the day before, and with two royal guards in tow, he makes his way out of the hospital.

To say there is a crowd will be an understatement. Liam doesn’t think he’s seen this many reporters and photographers at once ever before in his life. It’s slightly overwhelming, the murmurs, the flash of the cameras, the civilians lingering around hoping to catch a glimpse of the royalty, but he isn’t going to turn around now.

The crowd only buzzes with more excitement upon seeing Liam advance towards them. But silence falls when they notice his usually pleasant demeanor is nonexistent.

Liam inhales deeply and tries to settle his nerves before talking. It’s taking every ounce of willpower he has to not launch into a tirade.

“A few nights ago, my wife, myself, and a few members of the royal council were at a book signing to support a friend, Lord Maxwell Beaumont. When the event was over, we were leaving, but as soon as we stepped outside, we were greeted by a crowd, not much smaller than the one I’m looking at right now. This crowd was intrusive, pushy, and completely lacked boundaries or any sense of decorum.”

“We managed to escape the mob of reporters, shouting at us, shoving us, taking our photos, and we retreated to the safety of our vehicle. That should have been the end of the melee, but unfortunately that was not the case. We were chased through the dark and snowy streets of Lythikos, paparazzi still taking our pictures, dangerously swerving and driving. And I’m sure you all know how this story ends. One of your colleagues, a photographer named Samir ran into our van, my guard Bastien swerved off of the road and ran into the pole. And you would think that the story ends there. Surely. But no. The photographer continued to take our pictures as we laid there, trapped and injured in our wreckage, before he fled the scene in cowardice.”

Liam’s eyes sweep the crowd. Everyone is watching and listening with rapt attention, hanging onto his every word. Good.

“Most of us faced only minor injuries, able to walk about with a few bumps and bruises. My guard Bastien sustained a dislocated shoulder and sprained ankle, but he’s going to be fine. My wife, Her Majesty, Queen Kendall of Cordonia, Duchess of Valtoria, sustained major injuries, to which I will not share the extent, but know that she and the baby will be okay as well. And while I will never be able to express the true depths of my eternal gratitude towards the amazing staff at this hospital, as well as the first responders in Lythikos, she should have never been put in this situation.”

“While Queen Kendall is expected to recover from her injuries, I want you all to hear me well and grasp the full severity of the situation. You chased and harassed her. You caused the car she was riding in to crash. Take away the titles for a moment and let it sink in that a pregnant woman and her child could have died. The baby that you were all so eager for me to have, that you’re all anxiously awaiting, you all put them in harm’s way and they haven't even had the chance to take their first breath. And for what? Pictures? A couple hundred dollars? A few thousand? Is that the going rate for a human life these days? This is a travesty that I will absolutely not stand for.”

“The royal family and the Cordonian press have always had an amicable relationship in the past, but somewhere along the way, the respect has been lost. My wife and I were harassed on our honeymoon—which took place on a private island, upon our arrival back home to Valtoria, in my wife’s native city of New York, as well as in Texas. Someone even followed us to the hospital, going as far as to impersonate hospital staff in order to get personal details about her pregnancy. We’ve dealt with the press harassing us, asking invasive and inappropriate questions about her pregnancy, which she has dealt with with an undeserved and unprecedented amount of grace and class. I think you’ve all forgotten that you’re dealing with your Queen. These are situations that Kendall should have never been in, but that’s a mistake and oversight on my part, a mistake that will never happen again. I let all of you get too comfortable. I let you become entitled, greedy, and spoiled. I apologize for making such an error, but I assure you that it ends today.”

“Let me make myself perfectly clear in saying that my wife will never be your Princess Diana, may she continue to rest in peace,” Liam continues. He knows that he’s going to cause some level of controversy invoking the late British Princess’s name, but the point has to be made. “Until my dying breath, I will protect Kendall, our child, and any future children we may have.”

“And to do that, boundaries will be put in place. Effective immediately, the press is no longer allowed at Applewood Manor or the Valtoria Estate, save for Apple Blossom festival and the lantern lighting festival,” Liam announces. The crowd gasps at the announcement. “They are private residencies, which we graciously opened up to the public in the past, but for the time being they will be private. I have filed permits to also ensure no drones, planes, jets, or helicopters fly over as well, in case anyone tries to get any bright ideas. For the time being, all news regarding my family will be released via the palace’s website and social media platforms. As for press at the palace, if I or anyone else in the royal family needs to address anything directly to the media, it will be done so right outside of the palace gates. There will be no press conferences near the fountain, in the throne room, or in the gardens. Members of the press will be welcome to attend any official engagements or royal tours we do in the future, but they are to be at least 30 meters away from members of the royal family at all times. If I see or hear of anyone belonging to the press violating any of these perimeters, there will be consequences, including severe fines and possible jail time.”

“As for the consequences to what happened the other night, the reporters who were in Lythikos that night will be charged with inciting a riot.” Gasps and rumblings of protest being to ripple through the crowd. “SILENCE!” Everyone goes quiet, shocked at the outburst from their normally stoic king. “Note that this is a very serious matter. It wasn’t just my safety that was at risk, or my Queen’s, my child’s, or my friends’. When you caused that dangerous scene, you had absolutely no regard for the private citizens of Lythikos. There were children in attendance, elderly people, people with disabilities, and so on. You exercised absolutely no restraint and showed no care for anyone. So as I was saying before I was interrupted, you will be charged with inciting a riot, and your employers, the magazines, papers, and tabloids that pay you to stalk my wife and spread gossip about her, they will also be facing severe fines as well. And to the man that ran into us, Samir, you have 24 hours to turn yourself in for the hit and run charges. Failure to do so will result in additional charges.”

“This is my first and final warning on this matter, and it is not up for debate or discussion. Thank you for taking the time to listen to me speak, but I think I’ve been out here long enough, and it’s time I get back to my beautiful wife. I hope you all enjoy the rest of your day.”

And with that, Liam turns on his heel and walks back into the hospital, ignoring the chants and calls of the crowd behind him.

#choices: stories you play #playchoices #pixelberry #the royal heir #king liam #king liam x mc #liam x mc

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my-whumpy-little-heart · 5 years ago

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Llyr and the Pirates - Day 25

Day 25: Trapped in Shallow Water

Ahahahaaaa I finally got the ship battle portion done! I’ve stopped caring about time and am now just getting excited over mundane accomplishments so hurrah!

For @amonthofwhump‘s Water Whump May in which it is now July but I refuse to abandon this. The masterlist with the rest of the series is here!

Tag list (dm to be added or removed): @spiffythespook, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insanitywishes, @whumpingonarainyday, @burtlederp, @pepperonyscience

Content warnings: threat of death, cannon battle (explosions and all that), aaand I think that’s it actually. A fairly tame chapter in terms of squicky content.

As the curling white tendrils of air parted and disappeared, he finally saw what it was.

There was another ship out in the water.

“Captain-!” someone shouted, but Gawain cut them off before they could finish speaking. Llyr felt the man go rigid, holding him tighter and pushing the sword harder against his neck. The pressure followed even as he leaned back and tensed up, breathing quick, shallow breaths.

“That was a warning shot! Everyone to the deck and prepare to fire back!”

“But captain,” Hugh interjected quietly, “are you sure? We’re at a great disadvantage-”

“And we can’t afford to surrender,” it waved a dismissive hand. “As for you...” it turned to Llyr, looking down at him with stony eyes.

“Captain, sir,” Hugh spoke again, and Llyr felt Gawain’s frustration when the blade against his skin jerked and drew blood. He let out a strangled whimper before he could stop himself. “If we’re going to fight, I think it’s best we leave them alive for now… just in case we need a bargaining chip or two.” It was tense as it spoke, equal parts cautious and determined. The captain fixed it with a judgmental frown.

“There should be no room for bargaining once we’re done with them,” it said, pausing for a moment where a look of careful consideration passed over its face. “But, if you so desperately want it, I’ll leave them for now. This brat’s slow death will be a suitable reward for your work, I suppose.” Gawain laid on a heavy, sweet tone, and Hugh ate up every last bit of the praise.

“Thank you, and... for now?” Hugh asked, a twinkle in its eye.

Gawain swiftly lifted its sword from Llyr’s neck, replacing it with a sharp kick to the jaw that knocked him out cold.

“Right,” Hugh nodded, and walked off with the captain as Ray watched on in a panic. They had a short, whispered exchange, pointed back at him, and then disappeared down the stairs.

Ray took deep breaths, trying to keep himself together when he realized what situation he was in. He’d been whipped half to death, tied up in a position he couldn’t hold for much longer, and was now being shot at by an enemy ship. Not to mention he was facing away from the action and could really only see part of the other ship if he craned his head.

He squinted hard to try and make out the details, but it was no use. Ray turned back and saw Llyr instead, splayed out and unresponsive in front of him. His body shook with small, shallow breaths, and blood dripped languidly from his mouth out onto the deck. And to think Ray had intended to protect him... Llyr stumbled into their arms out of pure chance and had now been harassed, captured, and tortured all because he’d been desperate enough to seek care from a gang of pirates. He’d nearly been killed too just then, and was still a priority on that corrupted sailor’s hitlist.

Guilt crushed him and he sunk down further on his knees, heedless of the pain and pressure against his flayed back until it flared up so badly that his knees buckled under the strain. He let loose a shout as he fell against the wheel, the middle of it scraping roughly up his back and he couldn’t even scream because he didn’t have the breath. When the pain subsided, it was replaced with drowsiness that made him slump bonelessly against the wheel.

It was as Ray had nearly fallen back into unconsciousness that the next explosion sounded, startling him back to awareness. The entire boat shuddered with the force of a cannonball making contact, a loud thunk and the sound of splintering wood coming from below. A quiet splash followed, meaning the ball thankfully hadn’t broken through the tough wooden hull.

In the relative silence after that, he heard sailors hurrying around and talking as they prepared to strike back. It wasn’t long before another cannon shot at them, hitting further up on the boat and rocking it harder than the last.

By the time a third cannonball had crashed into the side of their ship, smashing through the thin railing and nearly rolling up on the deck, the sailors were finally ready to fire back on their assailants. Cannons fired on both sides, heavy booms and smoke filling the air, shaking the world around Ray until his head was ringing and his vision blurred at the edges. It felt as if all his teeth were vibrating numbly, the entire world reduced to that high pitched whine echoing through his skull.

The crew was still frantically scurrying around when he looked back at them. Out on the water, the other boat had moved further along and seemed to be closing in. With how shallow the water was here, though, he doubted they’d get much closer. But… the longer he looked, the more familiar it became. Something about the blurry shape of it in the distance, the bow out front, and the figurehead he couldn’t quite make out...

Then he saw the flag and his heart stopped.

A large, black cloth hung from the mast, white markings painted on in the unmistakable shape of a cutlass lain across cracks and abstract, shattered shards. And Ray knew that if you looked close enough at those cracks, you could spot three letters outlined by careful brushstrokes. Letters that, if you knew what they stood for, would mean The Thief’s Halyard.

He would have wept tears of joy at the sight of his own ship were his throat not already parched. Ray couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gotten a good drink, and just the thought of it made him nauseous. But he would soon.

He believed in his crew now more than ever, and hoped they could get him and Llyr out of this awful nightmare.

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

“You’re sure it’s them?” Floyd asked tentatively, and Mabel raised the telescope back to her eye, squinting through the misty rain settled over the area. She wished she’d thought to climb up to the crow’s nest, but their lookout was already up there, observing as well as he could.

“As sure as we can be,” she sighed, “And we’ll have to trust that. Those scraps of wood on the beach clearly used to be a boat, and look about the size of the little thing Ray ended up heading out at sea on. Then on that shipwreck over there, there are four people, and three of them look a lot like Ray, Hugh, and that kid-” “Ah- his name was Llyr, I believe,” Floyd chipped in softly.

“Oh, Llyr. Thanks. And yeah, we’ve nearly circled the entire island at this point. If they’re still anywhere we could spot from sea, then this is it. Otherwise, we’d have to search on foot and risk weeks of lost time.”

“What do you think they’re doing on a wreck like that? With some oth- some other crew no less?” Floyd’s question was nervous, stilted. As if he suspected he might get an answer he didn’t like.

“Well, unless our fierce and loyal Ray has turned on us, I figure they just… oh. Oh shit-”

“What is it?!”

“That symbol right on the bow, really small up there. The round one: I’ve seen that before on transport ships for the Nation. And they don’t exactly… tolerate what we do. They wouldn’t voluntarily help a pirate, and I don’t think ours could keep a secret like that.” “Then-”

“-they’re not there of their own volition, no.” A tense silence fell over everyone. Nobody wanted to suggest what came next, so nobody did. “So, we’re all in agreement that we should launch an attack against them, yes?”

The rest of the crew nodded along, and Mabel was quiet for a second as she instinctively waited for Ray to chime in. He didn’t. He couldn’t… obviously.

“So, anyways, we fire a warning shot first, watch their reaction, and open fire if need be. We won’t be able to get much closer but they’re at a major disadvantage already.”

After a few minutes of preparations they fired off their first shot, landing just short of the other ship in a warning shot as planned. The misty rain was starting to clear up as they watched on, and the moment they saw the others working to retaliate they shot again, aiming to make contact now.

“Why are they fighting back?! Lord knows it won’t be worth it for them,” someone shouted over the noise, their frustration at having to fight to get the missing crew members back evident in their voice.

“Could only mean they’ve got something they want to protect... probably- our, uh,” Floyd swallowed compulsively, unable to finish his sentence.

“More reason for us to believe we’re right and go forward with this,” Mabel summarized. Floyd nodded with a shaky sigh.

The two sides fought fiercely, the shipwrecked crew surprisingly competent. After long enough, the air was heavy with smoke and yet another cannonball slammed into the side of The Thief’s Halyard.

“We have to get out of range!” one of the crew members shouted, “They may sink us if we don’t!”

Mabel wanted to argue, but they were right. The other ship was far more aggressive and heavily armed than they’d expected. Somehow, they didn’t seem to have lost very much when they wrecked.

“Aim out, towards that archipelago. I’ll dismount there with a select group and we’ll launch an attack on foot. The rest left on here should bring the ship to a safe distance. If you can make a shot through the rocks then go for it, but don’t push it,” she shouted above the sound of further cannonfire.

Half of the crew scrambled to direct the ship while the rest stayed back to fire on the enemy. Somehow, they managed to avoid any further damage before getting within a hundred meters of dry land.

Along the way, Mabel had called on a few crew members to dismount with her, and she was just getting ready to give the command when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun around to see Floyd, an uncharacteristically resolute expression set into his face.

“I’m coming,” Floyd said. It wasn’t a question or request. He stated it simply and firmly.

“Floyd…” Mabel trailed off, conflicted. Whoever these people were, they’d already proved they weren’t to be messed with. Floyd had never been their strongest fighter, and she couldn’t bear to lose him when there was already so much else at stake.

“I need to see Ray. I need to help him, I owe it-!”

“Okay, no. You will not be doing this under the guise of ‘paying back his kindness’, Floyd. Ray has protected us all at one time or another, and we will always do the same for him.”

“Then let me protect him now!” he shouted, more assertively than Mabel had ever heard him speak. Floyd broke eye contact for a second, resolve wavering when he realized how demanding he was being, but he shakily focused back on her. He wasn’t going to let go of this until he got what he wanted.

“On one condition,” she said, and Floyd bounced with nervous anticipation. “You will scale the side of their boat by rope and keep yourself hidden from view. They look to be alone at the moment, but stay on your guard. And you do not engage in combat unless absolutely necessary. Understand?”

“Understood,” he saluted, untying his sword belt and securing it diagonally across his back instead to keep it as safe and secure as possible in the water. When Mabel handed over a knotted rope with a grappling hook fastened to the end, he carefully draped it across his body, resting on the opposite shoulder. She gave him one last once-over, nodded jerkily, and moved back to the rest of their rescue team.

Each person received instructions for their role in the infiltration and by the time Mabel had nearly winded herself from speaking, they were as close to the land as they were going to get. They gathered around the ladder on the side of the ship, heading down one by one.

Floyd’s hands were shaking when it was his turn, and he lowered himself quickly down the rungs. He stopped halfway down when the ladder ended, bracing himself with a deep breath. Then he let go.

Next part

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