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3centsofbutter · 5 years ago

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Memoirs of a medic - BNHA part 3

Part 1 (Start from the beginning)

Chisaki Kai / Eri

Part 3 - Final

“The heroes are outside the base, we have to go.”

It was a regular Thursday morning. It was well in the middle of spring and the sun hung high in the sky warming the earth underneath it. You had attended to the garden earlier that morning to bask in the sunlight and returned back inside to get on with some paperwork. Eri sat opposite you, studying basic kanji from one of the books you used to use when you were first brought into the Hassaikai.

Irinaka burst into the room at 8:29 in a clear state of distress. They were here.

Kai had told you that a few days ago, Eri had escaped and stumbled upon some UA students and had made a scene since then, the compound had been on high alert. A small part of you desperately wished they could have taken her there and then which could have spared the absolute chaos that was about to ensue. Eri mentioned the UA students offhandedly and from the way she spoke of them in such high regard, you couldn’t help yourself but feel a pang of sadness. As much as you knew that a life outside of the clutches of Kai was what she deserved, but your creeping selfishness wanted to stay by her side and watch her grow. Your loyalty laid with Kai, but you secretly wished the heroes could win just this once.

“Eri let’s go, the time has come.”

You scooped up Eri in your arms and fast-walked behind Irinaka to Kai’s office. His desk was clear of everything save for the tiny potted plant on the corner of the table. Hari stood beside Kai with your backpack at his feet and nodded in acknowledgement to your entrance. The main few of the eight bullets had been instructed to pack their bags beforehand in the likelihood of this specific event. Your backpack wasn’t filled with much, you never found yourself indulging in materialistic goods or finding sentiment in any of them. You packed only a few things that couldn’t be replaced, the framed photo from your dresser, a leather-bound journal, a stack of white envelopes, and Eri’s doll.

BOOM

An explosion shook the whole room heralding the beginning of the raid, it was time to leave. The plan was to use half of the eight bullets to hold off the heroes and police while you made your escape through a hidden exit on the other side of the base. It was best to prevent conflict especially while being in possession of Eri and potentially risking everything Kai had worked for. The walk passed in silence with only the thump of footsteps and occasional echoes of explosions and rumbles filling the background. They were walking at an awfully slow pace, seemingly unbothered by the commotion above them.

At 8:42, things got interesting.

“Excuse me.”

Someone had gotten here quicker than anticipated.

“Can I ask some questions?”

It was the boy, the one Eri had described. Blue eyes, blonde hair, bright red and yellow hero suit that stuck out as an eyesore against the dull concrete walls. He was young, around 18-ish you guessed, probably in his third year of high school you presumed. He was so young. You found it sick that society glorified hero work and enabled children such as him to risk his life like this for a fabled utopia. It was a pity he was going to meet his end here.

Your eyes flitted to Kai to gauge his reaction. He seemed unbothered, face blank of emotion.

“You shouldn’t have been able to get here this fast,” Kai drawled, his voice was flat and lazy, completely unresponsive to the situation.

The boy was clearly dishevelled, he was panting and sweating profusely. He must’ve run all the way here.

“I took a shortcut, I’m here to rescue that girl.”

You almost felt sorry for him, he had let go of Eri back then oblivious to the situation she was in and gave her back to her captor. He must’ve felt the guilt weigh down on him once he found out, now hastily throwing himself at national criminals in an attempt to repent his guilty conscience. He should’ve just taken her then.

“This girl doesn’t want you to rescue her, she doesn’t see you as a hero.”

You could feel Eri uncomfortably shuffle in your arms.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Kai sighed and turned to continue walking. “It’s not getting through to you, is it? I’ll make it simpler.”

“Die.”

The boy charged at Kai falling to the ground instantly. Sasaki’s quirk sloshed was in effect, ruining his sense of balance and causing him to stumble around in a drunken state.

Hari tugged at your sleeve, “Sasaki and Nemoto will keep him busy, keep moving.”

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the scene, falling into step behind Kai. You knew firsthand how unpleasant it was to be under the influence of Sasaki’s quirk. You never enjoyed drinking and he continuously cemented that concept whenever his presence was near. His control over his quirk was only decent when he was sober— which he never was. You flinched at the sounds of gunshots and tightened your grip on Eri. You prayed his death was short and painless.

“CHISAKI!”

He appeared from under the ground and swung at Kai’s face, failing to land leaving only a slight graze. Before you could even process the situation, his foot connected with your face, sending you flying against the wall.

“Yasuko! Hide, I will find you when this is all over.”

You scrambled to your feet assessing the situation. Eri was in the hero’s arms and Kai was preparing to attack. He flexed his fingers, a habit he had picked up, a small ritual before using his quirk. He hid his left hand behind his back, hiding it so that only you could see. He held up three fingers and pointed downwards.

‘I’m going to use my quirk, don’t get in the way.’

It was the code you both used when you were younger on the streets. You had to leave before you got caught in the crossfire. You picked up your backpack and hastily retreated down the corridor. You hid in one of the empty rooms and slumped against the wall heaving a sigh of relief. Kai was going to be fine, he always would be. It would only be a slight nuisance to patch him up afterwards.

The ground rumbled underneath you, a sure sign that Kai was using his quirk, the whip-like cracks of gunshots could be heard periodically courtesy of Hari’s pistol. You checked the state of the contents in the bag, thankfully nothing was harmed in the process. You lightly touched your cheek noticing it was very much swollen.

The boy had trained his quirk exceptionally well for someone his age, his finesse and determination was unlike anything you had seen before. He was someone to be admired, a striking resemblance to All Might: the retired symbol of hope. He was young and naive, sheltered from the crippling effects of corruption and desperation, as most heroes were. He would’ve made a great role model for Eri, saved her from Kai as fairy tales and stupid marketing would suggest, cape billowing in the wind as a copyrighted theme song played over replays of the final blow. Heroes were never there for you. You had found out the hard way when one of them showed up as your customer and ignored your silent pleas of help as they got drunk off of a temporary high. They were cowards who dressed up in tight suits to instill false hope and ignored those who really needed it. What says they would be there for Eri?

BOOM

A loud crash shook the room. Knocking over the giant oak bookshelf on the opposite side of the wall. You could instantly tell it wasn’t Kai, his quirk was fairly quiet and didn’t cause large crashes like that, the reinforcements must’ve caught up.

You scrambled out of the room only to see that the entire floor had been turned into one giant arena with a jungle of concrete spikes — courtesy of Kai — towering above you. You could only vaguely make out a giant hole in the wall, presumably the source of the crash and the vague image of a body crumpled on the floor.

It was Kai.

His clothes were caked in dust, skin covered in scratches and pink welts. The boy and Eri were a few metres away being tended to by the pro-hero Nighteye. The boy had sustained quite a bit of damage being barely able to stand and very visibly exhausted. Eri was fine save for a few scratches here and there, at least the pro heroes wouldn’t hurt her which left your main priority to be Kai. Just as you were about to run towards him, the pro hero Eraserhead and his green haired companion lept in the air and prepared to attack. They were zeroing in on him at an alarming speed, about to serve the final blow. Before you could even react, Kai’s voice rumbled throughout the makeshift arena.

“GET UP, CHRONO!”

A strand of silver hair sliced through the motionless bundle of white fabric, extending like tape, cutting Eraserhead on the arm. You thanked your lucky stars Hari was alive and most importantly Kai was too. The heroes fell to the ground giving Kai a brief moment to regain composure. His hand slammed on the ground forming another wave of giant spikes across the room separating him from the opposition.

“You did a good job didn’t you, Neomoto? We can’t lose the fight here, not like this…”

His hand reached out, grabbing Nemoto’s mask which disintegrated like wet sand under his touch. He kept going, merging into his face as if it were a hologram. His other hand covered his own face melting into his beaked mask. In a flash of light, an explosion happened. The gust of wind hit you like a whip, causing you to stumble backwards from the force. Your arms instinctively covered your face to protect from the dust and rubble being flicked in all directions, seemingly the only time the mask Kai forced you to wear came in handy. You could barely make out the silhouette of the two bodies as they were shrouded in a whirlwind of debris. It was almost a blessing in disguise as what you could see was something that was most definitely inhuman.

Both bodies were ripped apart into ribbons of flesh swirled around each other, slowly merging together building a body layer by layer. The bones, the organs, the skin welded together like a cursed puzzle piece. Glaring red eyes glowed like torches through the smoke screen as a second pair of arms ripped through his back. The dust cleared revealing the abomination that was Kai. Black crack like lines painted his face and the skin on his arms were darkened and lined with spikes resembling sharp rocks. You didn’t even know if you could consider that thing to be Kai. This wasn’t the boy who saved you from your father, this wasn’t the boy who stole bread for you when you complained you were hungry. This wasn’t the Kai who shared the ratty blanket with you when you slept on the streets. This was a monster, and he had been that way much longer than you would’ve liked to admit.

The green haired boy launched a broken-off spike at Kai’s body. The concrete shattered like glass upon impact, reforming back into spikes just as the boy launched a follow up attack almost piercing through the soles of his shoes. The boy was lucky that his flash hero suit was made with situations like this in mind otherwise his whole leg would have most definitely been smashed into pieces. Nighteye leaped in pushing the green haired boy to the side, narrowly missing the spike Kai had sent towards him.

If nighteye was there, that meant the blonde boy was alone.

You weaved your way through the rubble and saw the boy propped up against the wall a fair distance away from the fight. His hero suit was bloodied and torn and he looked as if he was barely able to move. Eri was further away from the boy, possibly left there in a hurry as Nighteye went to assist the green haired boy. You cautiously approached him being careful not to underestimate him even in his handicaped state.

“You have fought well, young man. May I know your name?”

He stared at the mask on your face, a clear sign of your affiliation with Kai. “I am lemillion to the likes of you scum. I don’t take compliments from villains like you.”

Your face soured at the label, “I don’t go by that term, I prefer yakuza.” Your hand hovered over the knife strapped to your thigh. “Tell me your real name, or this is the last face you’re going to see.”

“Mirio Togata.”

His face showed no sign of lying, a good egg he was. A fault of heroes had to be their strong sense of morals eventually resulting in the downfall of many of them.

“Mirio, I have a knife strapped to my leg, I can end your life faster than you can think. Give me a reason why I should let you live.”

His guard was still heightened and his distress was visibly showing on his face. The fear of death was synonymous with all humans it seemed. He didn’t speak for a moment, hesitant to come up with an answer. You almost thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all until he finally spoke.

“Someone like you may not understand, but I want to live to see the relief on people's faces after I save them. I want to be able to save at least a million people and be the hero people can look up to and feel safe in my presence.”

He was so hopeful that it hurt.

“You could have ignored her, saved a million people instead of dying for one. Why does she matter so much to you?”

His face hardened with determination.

“What type of hero am I if I can’t save one helpless girl? I’d die for her no questions asked if that ensured her safety.”

“Chisaki, join us in the Shie Hassaikai. Your future is one with potential.”

Slate grey clouds darkened the afternoon sky. A heavy downpour of rain had soaked both you and Kai’s clothes and chosen to seek refuge outside a brothel. The man had approached Kai after watching him materialize an umbrella from scraps you had scavenged from the dumpster. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd. Unlike the usual suit and tie businessmen and raggedy drug addicts that frequented the brothel, he donned a black kimono, a rarity in general even out of the red light district. His silver hair was slicked back neatly and a large carved, jade ring wrapped around his finger. He looked like royalty.

“How do I know you’re not gonna sell me into human trafficking or something, old shit?”

“Boy, look over there.” He pointed to the flashing neon lights of the brothel, “I own that brothel. I own almost 30% of the businesses in the red light district. This could all be yours one day.”

Kai’s eyes immediately glistened with interest. He wouldn’t have to sleep on concrete anymore, he wouldn’t have to worry about his next meal, and he wouldn’t have to worry about braving the winter. He would have somewhere to call home. But the thoughts dissipated as quickly as they came.

“What about Yasu? Can’t leave her out here on her own. I told her I’d protect her forever y’know.”

The man shook his head. “We never brought up women in our clan, its tradition.”

You tugged at Kai’s sleeve. He deserved a life in comfort whether it was with you or not. He had done so much for you already. “You can go, I’ll be fine. You can’t pass up an opportunity like this.”

Kai, very much irked by his response, held up both middle fingers to flip off the man. “Then change tradition. I ain’t going nowhere without her ya heard! Take your gedo sandals and shove them up your ass.”

“Why does she matter so much to you?”

“She’s all I got, I’d die a hundred times over if it means she is out of harm's way. Ya can’t take me without her. We’re a package deal ya got it?”

The man sighed and looked at the boy. He stood defensively in front of the girl. She didn’t look like much but appearances were deceiving. He was loyal, an honorable trait. With a little bit of guidance, he could be a great leader.

“Fine, let us go.”

This boy looked so different but he had those same eyes Kai once had. Hopeful and kind, shining with compassion and determination. He was uncorrupted, a pure soul, the family Eri deserved to have. You had done so much wrong in your life, allowing Kai to succumb to his pride, staying silent while he committed heinous crimes, letting him hurt the innocent, there were too many sins to count. But it was time to do something right for once.

You took the rucksack off of your back.

“Take it.”

He was taken aback. “What?”

“Please, when Eri is old enough give her the contents of this bag. You can look through it if you are suspicious.”

“You mean— “

“Yes. I can’t guarantee that Kai will lose this fight but I entrust Eri with you. Please take care of her, be the hero she needs.”

The bag contained a leather bound journal, your personal diary that you started when you finally learnt how to properly read and write as encouraged by your father. It documented every single tear, laugh, and worry since you were 12; a stack of white letters, For each birthday of Eri’s since you met her, outlining everything that you wished for and regretted, how much you had wanted a better life for her, everything you ever wanted to tell her if you had gotten the chance; the photo from your dresser as something she could remember you by; and the handsewn doll Eri loved that you had made for her because she cried every time Kai’s goons would buy her something new.

You looked over your shoulder to the main fight. Kai was growing weary, his transformation wasn’t enough to fend off the pro heroes. It was drawing to a close. You looked back at Mirio.

“Please tell her I loved her… love her for me.”

“I will.”

Nighteye broke off one of the giant concrete spikes and hurled it towards Kai’s weakened body like a javelin. He sat kneeled on the ground desperately panting for breath. The bottom half of his mask was broken off and his jacket torn in pieces, the shreds decorating the ground around him. His body was drenched in blood, some his own, some others. Hari had disappeared earlier to deal with Eraserhead and all of the Eight bullets were either dead or in the hands of the police. No one was there to save him anymore.

“Tell her I’m sorry.”

Your body moved faster than your brain could react. The effects of the ability enhancing drugs were kicking in right on time. Time was moving in slow motion, you leapt into the battle scene, your hair extending outwards towards Kai’s body pushing him out of the way. The spike skewered your body impaling you square in the chest.

An unknown woman had thrown herself at sure death to save a criminal.

“MOM!”

Eri screams bounced off the walls of the building bringing the entire room to a standstill. She ran from her hiding spot stumbling over loose rubble collapsing beside you, sobbing into the crook of your arm.

Kai’s transformed state instantly melted away into goop around him. He was dumbfounded. Just seconds ago he had prepared himself to face death but was given torture way worse. He gently picked up your figure and held you in his arms.

“No, Yasuko, what have you done.”

“Kai, I’m sorry.” Your voice was hoarse and slurred. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

“Yasu, I can fix you, y-you can’t go like this, I need you.”

“You know, I always wanted to be called ‘mom’.”

He caressed your cheek.

“Y-you can be if you stick it out. It’ll be like old times, just you and me.”

You chuckled, the laugh reduced to only short, laboured breaths of air. “Stop this nonsense, Kai. Let me rest. Maybe we’ll meet again in another life.”

You never doubted you were a bad person, the bad things you had done heavily outweighed the good. You had never believed in a life after death or reincarnation, always in fear that what awaited after you closed your eyes was eternal punishment. But if there were, you prayed the shinigami would be kind and grant you an eternity to watch over Eri, and see her grow into someone you never got the chance to.

“I love you, Cyclamen. I always have and I always will.”

“I love you too, Kai.”

Your eyelids grow heavy savouring the last moment you could feel. The heaviness of Eri on your chest, shirt wet with her tears; Kai’s calloused hands cupping your cheek, feeling the warmth of his body from being held so tightly. The pain in your chest seemed to melt away in their presence. An unfortunate death yet envied by many, surrounded by the people you loved.

The cyclamen, a flower symbolic of sincere and everlasting love, finally gave in to the weather after drowning in the heavy rain for many years, weathering out the storm until it couldn’t any longer, leaving behind only broken petals in its place. It’s ethereal beauty preserved in what it had been despite the circumstances, its body now nourishing for the garden that is to bloom the coming spring.

In the chaos, there was peace for a brief moment.

Masterlist of all my stuff

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long to write. Got caught up with online school and all that. Excuses excuses I know. It was really hard to write so please forgive me. I hoped you enjoyed reading all of my nonsense, a slight break from all the romance oriented stuff lol (nothing wrong with that, love me some Bakugou). But yeah, thanks for sticking through, it really means a lot.

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kaetastic · 5 years ago

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All That Matters

pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x Sniper!Reader

summary: During a thoroughly planned out mission to rescue a hostage, everything goes awry. Placed in a sticky situation with their pilot wounded, Y/N is stuck on the lines of complying with her leader and running off to her bleeding co-worker.

word count: 2.6k

warning: mentions of violence, mentions of blood, language, mentions of firearm, mention of hostage situations, angst, slight fluff because frankie

note: a big disclaimer: I have no idea how the military operates. I do not have a single insight to how they proceed with their missions, and their approach to said-missions. Most of these are based on my imaginations or websites which are clearly, limited to intel on how the Delta Forces or the military work. I’m also pretty sure they don’t accept females but- here’s a piece of fanfiction for ya. this was so bad omfg kill me :()

Intermittent buzzing rung into their ears in incoherent Morse code, the noise ticking a remix of overlapping songs without any professional intervention of editing out the unwanted bits. Chunks of swishing sounds squeezed in every time the electronic device passed the quivering waves of remarks from one soldier to the rest. No words or statements would be blurred out. No secrets. No blanketed cough or humming to a song as one’s comfort. That also meant no coverage to the cries of those who could see death clambering through the crevice. The only way to interject with the method of communication would be heavily-pressed forces or intense noises, and that was exactly what was screeching through the devices.

“Fuck, I’m blinded. A smoke grenade was thrown outside the third from the right, four up window, east wing of the building.” Ben yelled over the boisterous cries within the walls, followed by a lingering moment of hissing. A cough flew through the device, Ben bopping his head from the intertwining vines of the bush in hopes of catching the person who had thrown the can.

William who was on the other side of the building, fingers cladded around the firearm, let out a huff at him losing sight of a figure who was occupying the open hallway seconds ago, “No shit,” William chided back. Luck seemed to weigh onto his side. “I see a shadow passing to my left, second open corridor.”

With a burst of bullets, a thud muffled into the building’s ground, a shadowy figure that William had spotted tumbled onto the floor, “Got anything, Y/N?” Santiago inquired, the man that had been peeking through the glazed windows. It had been risky of him, might as well be stupid, but the area he had paced around was of low security. No guards, and a plus for him- most of the windows were simple entrances that could be opened with a nudge of his fingers. It seemed the yellow tinted building of one floor with red tiles as its roof had been of no importance as all of the guards surrounded the three-story building. It seemed so.

“I know it’s fucking cold up here,” Y/N shuddered out, the blistering kisses of the frigid breezes piercing into her skin without a hint of mercy. Hints of freezing concrete floor had prodded against the thick camouflaged pants she had worn. Despite the weather’s attempt to pierce into the cloth, the beneath layers of warmth had cladded around her in comfort of heat. As a sniper of the team, she needed to take height as an advantage. That also came with cons as the mission was in the jungle, somewhere over overlapping strands of hills, “There’s three on the rooftop, two nearing Ben, whoever is on the other side has to deal with the other man.”

With an exhalation of her breath, clenching of lungs to squeeze out the slightest drop of luck, the bullet swerved into the air in a graceful swirl. A cracking of whip sliced through the thick air, the clanking of metal danced over the messy ground of smeared chunks of dirt and overweight veins. Even though there had been overflowing layers of nature and the greenery of the jungle, holes exposing the peeling concrete had exposed the bullet’s presence.

Heads yanking to the body that had collapsed before the familiar crackling noise had even trickled into their ears, the other two occupants of the roof panicked. Panicking would not lead them anywhere. After her body had been nudged away from the immense force of the bullet jutting out of the sniper, speckles of dirt-smeared against the air to create a plaster of puffy dust, she positioned herself and her scope towards the first unlucky man. The man who had peeked over the side of where Ben had been.

Although his fingers were set on the trigger, a bullet had run through the thickness of his skull without an issue. Whatever thought he had of murdering, the connection in his body had cut short. Now, there had been only one man standing on the rooftop. With two of his mates flat, silky blood pooling in streams over the grainy flooring, there had only been survival. Flight over fight. Heart thrumming, chest heaving, there was nothing in his mind but run. There wasn’t much thinking, just assumption for him to scurry away from the direction the bullets had made way into his once-alive co-workers. Scrambling he did. But, it did not get him far.

“Got him.” Redfly tutted, corners of his lips smirking at the body slumping against the edge of the building. When he had made eye-contact with the woman on the towering abandoned column, he felt the rush of pride at taking the kill.

“I had everything on him, already,” Y/N whined in annoyance, shoulders drooping at the loss of another strike on her board. “You’re buying the fucking drinks, Redfly.” The man had only scoffed at her words. Tom rolled his eyes in disbelief. Oh, if only he knew she was being serious. There was no way Y/N would let that chance pass her.

Pope who had been busying himself in entering the building as quietly as possible, which was not as easy as it sounded because the windows that had been offered to him had a smeared array of trinkets. A swipe or a kick of his toe, the noise of the cans would be able to muffle the screeching cracklings of bullets. That was something Pope did not want to happen. If anything, he would like to avoid being under the spotlight while he was in their walls, “I’m in.”

“That’s what he said.” Ben mumbled under his breath, eyes never quivering away from his scope. Even though the corners of his lips crinkled up at the suppressed giggles of Y/N and a few sprinkled from his teammates, his body had been under the control of focusing.

“Guys, can we please fucking focus?” Before Tom had the chance to fall into the pit of lecturing his teammates as if children, he was interrupted by a round of bullets piercing onto the packed ground. It was just a couple of feet away from him. If he had inched in front even the slightest of swaying his chest, he would’ve been dead meat for whatever creature dominating the trees. He was not going to die today.

The mission was nothing out of the ordinary for the specialized unit. It was another hostage situation. A person of importance- a person who had his name plastered all over the banners of his campaign. A person of politics, which is an unstable platform, considering the views of people who won’t agree with some opinions. That was exactly the reason that got the running candidate to be captured by a group of bandits. It had been roughly around two weeks before the unit had even received the co-ordination of the location. Two weeks being half a month sounded like a long hell of a time to be kept on a random hill in the middle of nowhere. After investigating the co-ordinates, the group had been dispatched. Yet, something had to go wrong.

Even though muffled and distant snapping of bullets sung through the device of communication, one had exceptionally been closer, and louder than the rest. Clutters of cracking rang through the device in strands of quivers, followed by an agonizing cry, a plea from the scorching pain, “Fuck!” It would’ve been considered as a careless mistake during training. It would’ve been the reason she would have been stepped on by the instructor for being so strung away from reality. Except, this was more than being watched. The only person that was possibly watching over her was God. Pushing that aside, Y/N had to face the real truth. This was the real deal. This was not a set-up field on the campus. She was not being monitored by a superior.

Sucking air into her lungs, Y/N pulled away from the scope of the rifle. Laying her forehead on her splayed out hand against the freezing concrete ground, she let out a heavy sigh, “Who the fuck was that? Ironhead? Pope?” Although she could hear her pulse thrumming in her ears, the replying negatives to her question had caused her pumping organ to dance on volcano rocks. Y/N wanted to sit on her knees; she wanted nothing but to sprint towards the injured.

“Fuck, they got me in the leg.” Frankie mumbled, teeth grinding against each other, eyes squinted shut as his fingers clutched onto the gushing wound. Red smeared every inch of his skin. The smell of iron had somehow managed to overcome the scent of the trees. A wince seeped through the cracks of his teeth when he glanced at the wound. The hole in his camouflage pants would’ve been a cool pattern. Not with the chunk of his skin removed, of course. Frankie pressed his lips at the thought of the bullet.

“Ricochet?” Tom quirked up.

“No, think it’s direct.” Frankie uttered, trying his best to not wince. Despite his efforts to suppress the only way of exerting the pain, it did not work.

“Can someone get to Frankie?” Y/N blurted out, body positioning back onto the scope. Seconds of silence erupted from the men, but the screaming of bullets had adjusted the scene quite decently.

“Everyone’s in or around the building.” While Pope stated the fact as he had run into his teammates in the building where it was suspected for holding the candidate, Y/N could feel shivers crawl up her arm. Shivers from the fact that Frankie had not been in the parameter of the group. The place he had been positioned at was somewhere near the helicopter. They had found him, and if they did- it meant they might be going after the only way the unit would be leaving.

After another bullet clashed onto the ground, Y/N huffed out, “Fuck. Just hang on Cat. Are there any more guys coming?”

“I can hear rustling.”

Eyes squinting, every fibre in her being jutted at the abrupt realization. One of the windows had been plastered with clusters of newspapers, overlapping one another as if it was made by an art’s and craft’s class. “South of the main building, there’s one window covered by newspapers- he’s in there. Just hold on Cat, I’m coming.”

“You can’t fucking leave your post Scotch!” Tom yelled through his teeth after the bodies of the people he had murdered collapse onto the ground. Y/N sighed in her head at her codename, something she had received from the dad of the group after a night of nothing but vague pop-ups. Well, that was what she remembered anyway- everyone could recall more than she could.

“Our teammate is gonna fucking bleed out on the ground. Our only fucking decent pilot! Cat, just, fuck- hold on.”

Even if the sniper had not felt happy with the mission when the unit was being dispatched, she never felt good after knowing the risk and intel, she was put on the edge of the tower she rested upon. The thought of her teammate clutching onto the oozing wound of iron while he could barely stand in the middle of engulfing trees had not only sat in the back of her head but on her head, “We got him!” The relieving words from William’s mouth trickled into her ears in a silk swerve as if she had just been rescued from the suffocating situation. Although, she was not the hostage. “Everything’s cleared.”

With the approved sign, nothing weighed heavier than the thought of losing Frankie, not even the pieces of equipment she had to drag all the way up to the tower. The wind might’ve been angered, furious as it screeches in into every person who dared to walk on the land. Y/N could barely bat her eyes at the sudden drop in her surroundings. All she had in mind was Frankie.

She wasn’t sure what roared in her chest to make her legs work up so rapidly that she might’ve have broken her own personal record of running. Maybe it was all due to the reason. Maybe it was who was in her head. So, there she was. The sniper that had killed at least a dozen was clutched in her grasp. Despite the number of kills, the only time she had felt her arms wavered in desperation to fall onto her knees was when her eyes grazed over the craned figure of Frankie.

Feet shuffled against the packed grass, Y/N threw the firearm onto the seat of the helicopter before attending to the bloody man who rested against a tree, “Frankie? Cat?” An incoherent mumbling brushed his lips. His name sung into his ears in odd tones. “Hey, hey, don’t move too fast.” A whiny groan echoed in the air, the last bit of sound Frankie could even utter. The warmth of her palm against his cheeks had been filled in with the bitterness of the dense air.

As she had been trained, the bandage had been in her hands within seconds. The force of his blood-soaked fingers had died down, just like the fading of his vision, “I’ll tie this up.” While she busied herself with the bandage, Frankie could only see a smeared view of the woman who attended his wound. He didn’t lose the chance to admire her.

“Don’t know why I ran back here, shouldn’t have.” A guilty exhalation puffed from his lips. The thought of the helicopter being burnt into ashes because of his irrational decision had plagued his head. What if they had done such a thing? Their last resort would have to be calling in emergencies. All because of him.

After she had successfully wrap it around his thigh, she rested her hands on his cheeks. The first thing she had noticed was the heaviness set under his eyes, guilt had been piling on his shoulders. Dullness sparkled in his dark gaze, “Don’t worry, your pretty head has had enough.” The man let out a chuckle. Before the moment shattered at the entrance of the rest.

“What are you guys doing on the ground? Come on.” Y/N let out an exasperated huff from Tom’s words. He hadn’t even bothered to stop by to check on Frankie. The leader had dashed straight to the helicopter with the rescued man beside him.

Ben groaned out, he could feel his ageing back creak out a prayer, as he slipped his arm behind Frankie’s back, hoisting the man up. With Y/N on his other side, he finally breathed out, “I don’t think I can fly this thing, guys.”

“You can and you will, you’re the best pilot we’ve got, Fish.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “What a way for motivation, you should be a motivational speaker.” The soldier hummed, a smile across his lips even though he shook his head.

“Think that suits more for William.”

Nothing else was exchanged as everybody made their seats onto the vehicle. It was usually Tom who occupied the front seat beside the other pilot, but Y/N had shot her eyes for him to sit at the back. He had no choice but to sit at the back. Frankie breathed out, fingers gripped around the handles. A slight heavy sigh- more like it. His eyes peeled away from the pane of the glass to brush over the warm hands that made way on his, “You can do this, Frankie.”

He didn’t need anything else but those words from her mouth.

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secretsandsimpletorment · 4 years ago

Text

Curiosity Killed the Cat

They always told her not to leave home. Do not explore, do not run away, do not step for even a moment through the gate. It is for your own safety, they said. You do not want or need to see what is outside, they said. She was told that she was special. She was told that she needed to be preserved.

But she had a heart that longed for adventure and a soul that was always searching, trying to find something to fill her idle time and her idle hands. And the day the gate was left open by mistake, the curiosity inside her bubbled up and burst her into a thousand pieces; she had no control over her two feet, which were soon scraping against the long drive, soon crossing the threshold of the gate which had kept her trapped for so many years.

At the edge of the outside world, she turned and surveyed her own quaint house, and with its boarded windows and chained door, it appeared more like a prison than it ever had. The long-dead tree between her and the house seemed to be stretching its many arms toward her, beckoning her back inside, back to the safety she had always known - but she turned her back on that world, and opened her eyes to a new one.

She was quite disappointed. The world outside the gate was not as she had expected; faint memories of green grass and birdsong filled her head, but her eyes showed her nothing but the same dead world and thick, still air she had become accustomed to within the confines of her own fence. She stood on the edge of a long, narrow street, with identical lots and houses on either side. Some had fences similar to her own, but none quite so high; several had been reduced to merely a few jagged boards, somehow still clinging to one another with the strength of the last remaining nails.

The street continued on for as far as she could see. In the distance, taller buildings loomed, surrounded by the same grey haze that darkened the sky and made it impossible to tell where the sun was. Everything was cast with shadow. Nothing moved.

She should have turned back and locked herself in the house, never to leave again. She should have heeded the warnings she’d heard for years. But she could not resist the temptation to explore, just a little bit.

And so she started to walk.

Her footsteps echoed down the empty street, a jarring sound in the silent world. Each house was the same: grey walls, dead grass, broken concrete driveway. She soon lost track of how many she had passed; when she turned around, the street behind her looked the same as the street in front, and the street in front looked the same as the street behind. And hadn’t she been facing the other way before? There, the fence on the right she had seen that was mostly intact. But the other way... the other way, there was the same fence.

She spun around, trying to discern which direction she had been going, and which direction she had been leaving. She quite wished she was back in her own house, staring at the grey walls. But instead she stared at the grey concrete, finding herself completely and utterly lost.

Then. Then, then, then, out of the silent world, suddenly there was sound. Her mind sought for the word, something to describe what she was hearing. A faint memory wormed itself into her head - a warm fire and warm arms around her and warm music... music! It was music. And inexplicably, she could hear it, just when she found herself alone and lost. She could not be lost if there was music.

She still did not know where she was, or where she came from, but she had a direction to go and something to look for. Her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her along the street in search of the music.

As she walked, the sound became louder. She did not notice as the houses on either side of her became larger, taller buildings, as the road got wider. Her feet simply continued on, following the music.

After some time, the sound abruptly cut off. Her eyes snapped open, and she took in her new surroundings. She was still in the street, but she had left the squat, humble houses behind. On every side, buildings loomed to the sky, some so tall she could not see their tops through the gloom. How peculiar, she thought, I’ve only been walking for a few moments.

Unsure what to do next, and still very lost, she stepped up to one of the shorter buildings, seemingly only one floor. She leaned against one of the filthy windows and peered inside. Tall, dark shelves lined the room, filled with rectangular objects packed tightly together. There was a word for these, too, but she could not remember what it was.

She stepped back. There was a sign beside the window. It had likely once been painted, but like everything else, it had faded to the same blank grey. As she was examining the sign, the music suddenly started up again, coming from within the building.

She was already halfway inside before she even realized she had opened the door. The music filled the room, vibrating through the walls and the floor. She spun around, feeling the sound wash over her. It reminded her of colors she had not seen in a very long time.

The music pulsed through her as she stepped up to a shelf and scrutinized the stacked objects. They were not uniform, but rather all different widths and heights. She pulled one down and found that it opened on one side only, and that the many pieces of paper within were covered with tiny black shapes. The paper was rough against her fingers as she turned the pages, trying to discern what the markings were, what they meant.

She did not notice the music was fading until she could not hear it anymore, and instead, she heard a voice.

“Have you never seen a book before?”

She turned around to find a very dark man with very long hair and very blue eyes sitting at a table, staring intently at her and holding a book... books, that was what they were called!

She shook her head and looked down at the book in her hands. The man was difficult to look at, but his bright eyes were still trained on her.

“Would you like to come take a look at this one?” the man asked, his voice grating and deep.

She should have walked out the door then. But yet again, the curiosity instilled so deep into her bones welled up, and she could not resist the few steps forward that carried her to the edge of the table. She looked into the man's eyes, and after several seconds felt that something was quite wrong.

The eyes were not alive enough for her liking. They looked almost like glass.

The man smiled.

“You don’t look like you’re from around here, kitten.” he said, almost hissing. Lighting fast, his hand shot up and grabbed her wrist, turning it over so that the soft, white skin was exposed. Next to the blue-green vein running up her forearm, there was a single black dot, with a thin line crossing through it. It had been there for as long as she could remember.

“Ah, yes. One of Them.” the man growled, smiling again. “You should have done what you were told. You should have never left.”

She looked into the man’s bright blue glass eyes as he smiled wider, wider, wider. But his smile was all wrong. Where teeth should have been, there were insects and maggots of every kind, spilling out of his mouth and onto the counter, onto the floor, onto the young woman standing in front of him who simply could not look away.

She stared as the man's body crumbled away, as creatures skittered away into the shadows. The man's hair turned to dust, his skin flaked and floated away, and his eyes - with a clunk they each fell to the counter, and then to the floor. The young woman could not move, could not breathe. She should have screamed, should have tried to run, should have done something other than stand there and stare. But she could not.

And now the creatures, the insects and maggots, the things of rot and death from the man began to climb onto the young woman under her clothes and over her skin. The feeling of a thousand small legs on her body snapped her out of the stupor she was in, and she began swatting them away. But it was too late.

The things, the things that were once part of the man covered her, crawling on her and around her and in her. The music began playing again, a different song than before - this time, haunting and foreboding.

She took one final breath as everything went dark.

Quite a few years later, against his better judgement, a man entered the store, searching for something to satisfy his curiosity. A young woman sat at a table holding a book, her striking blue eyes fixated upon him, and upon the mark on his wrist. When he locked eyes with her, he could not look away.

- jan 5, 2021

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fandomregina · 4 years ago

Note

hi! I was wondering if you could try to expand on the scar on douxie's hand? since we don't have much backstory on it, do you think he got it under merlin or before he met him?

Ah, I’ve already written about this so I can post about it quicker! I’ve tried to look for the scar on his hand before he met with Merlin after he did the trick on Gallahan, but I’m not sure if it’s because you never get a good look at it or just because I can’t see it, but I don’t see anything on his hand when he meets Merlin so that draws me to the conclusion of he got it while training with Merlin!

So, since I’m done with my rambling, enjoy!

Merlin, even though he was supposed to be the world's best wizard, was, simultaneously, the world's worst teacher. All Douxie seemed to be good for was running the man’s errands and doing chores for him here and there. Very little time was spent on Douxie’s magic training and whenever he tried to object to another Slorr milking, it ended as such.

“And don’t-“ Merlin would say, knowing Douxie would object.

“But Master-“

“But Master me.”

So, with Archie’s reluctant help, Douxie began to practice at night after Merlin went to bed. He began with the basics, having the common sense to do such, such as floating small objects and larger ones, practicing magic ruins and their abilities, and small spell castings.

This went on for many weeks.

If Merlin noticed the lack of energy that Douxie had his second week in, misjudging how long it would take to clean up certain spells, he said nothing. If he noticed the ease that Douxie began to move objects with, he said nothing. And if he noticed the growing bags under Douxie’s eyes, he said not a word.

However, Archie did.

“This isn’t healthy, Doux.” Archie said after Merlin left the two to clean up his workshop, his tone full of worry for his wizard familiar. “Take tonight off, please. You’re burning the candle at both ends and it’s not going to end well!” Douxie scoffed.

“I’m fine, Arch! A little eye bags have never hurt anyone. Besides, my magic has become much stronger!”

“Is your magic becoming stronger more important than your health?” Archie asks, scolding the boy.

“To a point, yes.” Archie looks at him, jaw-slacked. Douxie rolls his eyes. “Fine, if you’re that concerned, I’ll only try one spell tonight: a lightning spell.” Archie’s hairs stand on end.

“Doux, you can’t be serious. You know how-“

“Yes, yes, how dangerous it is. I’ll be fine, Arch. My magic has gotten better day by day. I think I can handle a simple lightning spell.” Archie stares at the boy, stunned.

Shaking his head, Archie grumbles out a “This won’t end well…” much to Douxie’s annoyment.

As the day goes by, Douxie having to milk yet another Slorr, the thing that sets Douxie off and allows for things to go downhill from there happens after Merlin comes back from…well, from only Merlin knows.

Douxie was finishing up tidying his Master’s workroom when he knocks a book over and it flips open to a page on lightning magic. Douxie’s eyes light up. “Arch, Arch, come look at this!” Picking up the book as Archie jumps onto Douxie’s shoulders, he begins to read the book. “To cast a lightning spell, you must be emotionally stable and overall calm. If you are not, the lightning will become loose in your body rather than controlled and could injure the user.” Douxie places the book open on the table and Archie jumps down from his shoulders.

“Doux, whatever you think that you are about to do, please don’t.” Archie tries, even though he knows Douxie won’t listen to him.

“I’ll be fine, Arch. I’m just going to try a little bit of lightning.”

Closing his eyes, Douxie presses his hands together, taking a deep breath. Opening his eyes, Douxie begins to read the incantation. “Palmetis tempestas fulmina!” Slowly opening his hands, a single strand of lightning moves between them. Trying his best to remain calm, he smiles and looks over at Archie.

“Arch, I did it!”

“Very good, now put it away,” Archie says as he moves away from the boy. Douxie ignores him, fascinated by the bolt. Expanding his hands, Douxie creates two more. Then two more. Soon he has five bolts of lightning between his palms.

“Hiserdoux!” The door to Merlin’s workshop slams open. “Where is- Hiserdoux! What on Earth are you doing?” Merlin freezes in the door as Douxie looks up, startled. His hands fall apart and the room is suddenly alive. Douxie ducks as a bolt flies over his head, hitting one of the many books behind, beside, and infront of him. When all of the thunder seems to cease, Douxie slowly stands, knowing what was coming for him.

(Had this been a cartoon, a large amount of steam would be coming from Merlin’s ears and the Wizard would be as red as a tomato and if looks could kill, well…)

“Hiserdoux Casperan! You know I forbid you to do magic in my workshop for this very reason! And all of the books you have damaged? I will need a miracle to get them back into their original shape. What have I told you, Hiserdoux! You are not ready for this kind of magic! Can you not do a single thing right and not make my life so hard? Some days I wonder why I picked you up and off that street.”

In Merlin’s anger, picking up the books with his magic and setting them on his work table, he had very little idea what he had just said to the boy. The boy in question stands there in shock, anger, and, he wouldn’t tell you this, sadness.

Douxie turns and leaves the room, ignoring the angry calls made by Merlin for him to come back and clean up his mess. Archie follows close behind, not saying a word.

As he enters his room, slamming the door behind him, almost every small object in the room begins to float as Douxie finally lets his anger out. With a yell, anything glass shatters, and everything else slams against the closest wall. Archie bolts under Douxie’s bed and tries not to get hit.

“Not ready! Not ready?! I’m not ready because you haven’t taught me anything!” He yells, pointing to an imaginary Merlin. “I’ve learned everything I have by myself because your off doing something every day and I’m stuck here cleaning up your messes! Doing your chores! Running your errands!” Something shatters against the opposite wall as he paces from one end of the room to the other. Archie doesn’t step in quite yet. “Some master wizard you are!” A few more things slam against the walls of Douxie’s room before everything finally drops to the ground. Creating a protective barrier around his hand, Douxie yells, slamming his fist into the closest wall, creating a sizable dent in the concrete. Huffing, Douxie walks over to his bed and falls onto it as tears start to fall from his eyes.

“Doux, listen to me,” Archie says cautiously as he jumps onto the bed. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He was just angry and-“

“And what, Arch?” Douxie yells, sitting up. “You don’t hear me yelling at him whenever he does something to piss me off? You don’t hear me saying I wish I had never taken up his offer to come with him, do you?”

“No, but-” Archie tries, but Douxie doesn’t give him a chance.

“I’ll show him.” Douxie snarls. “I’ll show him that I’m able to control my own magic.” Douxie stands, flexing his hands.

“Doux, please, listen to me-“

“No, Arch. I can do this.” Shaking his head and body to try and rid the anger.

“If you’re going to be reckless, I won’t be here to watch you,” Archie says, shifting into his dragon form and flying out the window.

“Good, I need the quiet anyway.” Douxie mumbles. Taking a deep breath, he folds his palms together and tries to relax, repeating the same incantation as before. “Palmetis tempestas fulmina!” Douxie opens his eyes to the singular bolt of lighting in his palms. He smiles. “Can’t control magic my arse.” Distancing his palms more, the bolt begins to multiply. He practices shrinking and growing the bolt until he has a pretty good feel for it. “Now, let's try something.” Taking another deep breath, Douxie folds his hands together like a ball, squeezing, and then takes one hand off.

The singular bolt of lightning is now in the shape of a ball.

But then, the ball begins to grow. And grow. And grow. Until Douxie can no longer control it.

“Oh, fuzz buckets.” The ball flies from his hand and grows into the multiple bolts of lightning. Douxie tries to create a shield but is not able to create it fast enough and his hand becomes his shield. He yells in pain as a bolt strikes it and feels blood begin to run down his hand. A large boom accompanies the bolts as Douxie grabs his hand, curling around it. As the storm subsides, Doxie uncurls, examining his hand.

The wound was already cauterized, but a bit of blood had bled from the wound before it did. Sighing, he leans himself on his bed, not lifting himself from the floor.

He holds his hand in pain as it throbs. Not sure how much time goes by, but Douxie swears he could hear his name being called, but he’s pretty sure the thunder messed with his hearing. Exhausted, he lets the darkness overtake him and take him away from the pain.

He could have sworn, however, he saw Merlin standing over him as he passed out.

~+~+~+~

When Douxie wakes up, he is in his bed, Archie is at his feet, his hand is wrapped, and there is a cup of water by his bedside. Groaning, he grabs his hand, realizing it is no longer throbbing with pain.

“It should be fine in a couple of days. It cauterized quickly, so I didn’t have to do much.” Douxie looks over at Merlin as the man continues to put the books back into their respective places on his bookshelf. “I told you, Hiserdoux, you are not yet ready for that kind of magic.” Douxie scoffs. Merlin does not look over at the boy. “However, I cannot place all blame on you. I have not been teaching you what I should, and for that, I apologize.” Douxie does a double-take.

Merlin, the greatest wizard in the world, Mr. I never apologize because I’m never wrong, had just apologized to Douxie.

“And I apologize for what I said in my workshop.” Merlin slows at the words, making sure Douxie is listening and what he is saying is correct. “I meant not a word.” Douxie sighs.

“And I’m sorry for doing magic in your workshop.”

“Very good. We were both at wrong.” Merlin puts the last book in place. “Please, make sure to never-“

“Use magic as a shortcut. Yes, master, I know.”

“And I will try my best to further your teaching. I have been at fault, I will admit, however, you should not be practicing magic alone. I do not appreciate a tired apprentice and don’t you-“

“But master-“

“But master me.” Douxie smiles.

“Yes, master.”

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sides-of-demigods · 5 years ago

Text

Arm Yourself, A Storm Is Coming

Word Count: 2,572

Warning(s): Kidnapping/abduction, injuries, snakes (well, snake people), mention of blood, and a lot of crying from both me and the characters,

Author’s Note: Out of nowhere this turned so freaking sappy and I don’t know where it came from. My writing at some parts of the beginning isn’t my best, but push through it, I promise it’s worth it. The title is taken from Phoenix by League of Legends. You should pay attention to the title :)

As soon as the words were out of Dennis’s scarred lips Virgil was walking in the direction of his cabin, for once standing at his full height. He heard hurried footsteps straining to keep up with his long strides, so he assumed it was Patton. He didn’t pause to wait for him though and slammed his cabin door open once he reached it. He didn’t even stop to consider what he might need before he’d grabbed Tempest and strapped his shield to his arm. His brain was stuck on this one-track road of save Roman. He startled when a gloved hand grabbed his arm and spun him around.

He looked down at Patton, who was looking right back at him with some sort of expression that Virgil couldn’t read, almost like Patton himself didn’t know how he was feeling. Virgil could understand that, especially at that moment. He sighed and gently removed Patton’s hand from his arm. He didn’t want to worry the son of Hebe any more, but all he could think about was that the longer it was until they got to Roman, the less likely it was that he...they just had to find him. Fast.

“Look, Pat,” Virgil sighed. “I’m sorry I snapped at Dennis, okay, I really am. But I can’t let you stop me. I am going to get Roman back.”

“I’m not trying to stop you,” Patton scoffed. “Of course we have to get him back.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“You need to slow down. Kiddo you’re completely manic right now, you can’t go into a fight like this.”

“No, we can’t waste any more time Patton!”

“It’s not a waste of time to make sure we all get out of this instead of none of us!”

“‘We’?”

“You didn’t think we were going to let you go by yourself, did you?”

“No, it’s just..”

“You didn’t want us to.”

Virgil was about to contradict him but the glare on Patton’s face stopped any form of protest. The shorter boy crossed his arms and didn’t look away, practically daring Virgil to argue. The worst part was, he was right. Virgil had wanted to go alone or had at least expected to. He just...he didn’t want to risk losing anyone else. Patton had always been a little too good at reading him, as his face quickly softened.

“Virge,” He said. “Let us help you.”

“Fine.” Virgil knew when to admit defeat. “But we can’t take too long Patton, I mean it.”

Patton didn’t respond to that, instead leading the way back to the Big House. Virgil was only half a step behind. They stepped up onto the porch only to find Logan already waiting for them, already equipped with his daggers and holding Patton’s medkit and slingshot in his hands. How did he DO that? Freaking Athena kids. Patton quickly explained that it would just be the three of them, which kind of irritated Virgil but still made sense. Three was the ideal number for a quest anyway. Thomas couldn’t go with them since he had such an important role at camp, Emile wasn’t a demigod, and Remy had to stay with Emile in case the Oracle decided to pay them a visit. They were the only other people he really trusted to have his back so he supposed he would rather it be just the three of them than a bunch of people he didn’t trust.

Logan showed them to one of the Camp vans that was already waiting for them on the road. Logan was the only one with a mortal driver’s license, so he climbed into the driver’s seat with Virgil and Patton in the backseat. The entire drive there Virgil couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat, his eyes trained on the passing scenery. He just couldn’t stop thinking about ‘what if’. What if they were too late, what if they couldn’t get to Roman, what if Remus didn’t actually have him, what if Dennis had led them into a trap, what if he’d lied to them, what if, what if, what if? Virgil just couldn’t lose Roman, not now, not when this thing was still new and fresh and warm and just so so amazing. He’d realized it earlier, but he was in love with Roman. If you had told his fourteen-year-old self that one day he’d be ready to say ‘I love you’ to Roman Prince of all people, he probably would have punched you in the nose. But here he was.

The address Dennis had given them was a house in the middle of a more-rundown neighborhood, which kind of surprised Virgil. He’d almost been expecting a full-on supervillain lair, complete with an abandoned warehouse. The house didn’t even look deserted.

“Logan, you sure this is the place?” Virgil asked, watching the house through the van window. Logan had parked the van a couple of blocks away to give them the chance to case the property, but the only danger Virgil could spot was a few mortals in the house-wait, those mortals had snake legs. “Nevermind.”

“You see them too?” Patton said.

“Scythian Dracanae,” Logan cursed, running a hand through his hair.

“Dracanae aren’t too bad,” Virgil shrugged. “We can take them.”

“On their own, they are fairly easy,” Logan agreed. “But I can nearly guarantee there is a large number within the house and blocking our way to Roman.”

“Okay,” Virgil said slowly. “So, Mister Strategist, what do we do?”

“Give me a moment,” Logan murmured. He spent a few more minutes watching the house windows, though Virgil wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. Whatever it was he apparently found it as he nodded in satisfaction. “Virgil, you have had experience living in a suburban area, correct?”

“Uh, yes?” Virgil answered, though it sounded more like a question. “Why?”

“Would you say it was likely for this type of house to have a cellar or basement?”

“Probably.” Virgil shrugged before it dawned on him. “Oh, you think Roman is down there.”

“I do, and I have a plan.”

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

Virgil crouched in the bushes behind the house, trying to keep track of the Dracanae and their positions. He was also trying to prepare himself for whatever he might find in that basement but quickly shoved the thought into one of the dark and dusty corners of his mind. Fight now, worry later. He stayed low, waiting for Patton’s signal. Well, he didn’t know if he’d call it a signal exactly. Everything was quiet until there was the sound of glass breaking followed by a screech and loud hissing from the front of the house. He forced himself to hold back, to not move until there was a pause in shadows passing the kitchen and the sounds of fighting were prevalent. Logan and Patton’s diversion had started.

Still, Virgil crept forward. As much as he wanted to sprint into the basement and drag Roman out of there, his part of the plan relied on him not being detected. It felt as though it took years and all the self-control he had, but son Virgil was at what he assumed was the basement door. He opened and closed it behind him as quietly as he could, not wanting to alert anymore Dracanae that may be down there. Gods, it was pitch black down there. Virgil didn’t risk turning on a light so as to not alert anyone to his presence. He raised his shield as he slowly descended the stairs, step by step. The silence, as opposed to the battle raging upstairs, was excruciating and Virgil wanted nothing more than to just shout Roman’s name into the darkness. He bit his lip to resist the urge, but he hadn’t heard any sign of anything moving down here, which admittedly worried him a bit.

“Roman?” Virgil called out, his voice barely above a whisper.

He got no response.

“Ro please, this isn’t funny,” Virgil pleaded, desperation in his voice now.

He waited a moment more and after still not getting a response decided screw stealth. Logan and Patton had the monsters upstairs occupied and if a few made their way to the basement Virgil could dispatch them easily. He ran his hand along the closest wall until his hand came across a light switch right about where he thought the stairs ended. He counted to three in his head and flipped the switch, immediately spinning around in a defensive stance with his shield in front of him and sword raised. He didn’t see any snake women but his eyes did fall upon a familiar figure slumped in a chair in the middle of the room.

“Roman,” Virgil breathed, dashing forward.

Roman was slumped in the rickety chair, his chin against his chest. Virgil couldn’t see his face but the auburn hair and freckles up and down his arms gave him away. His ankles were tied to the front legs of the chair with rope but his arms were bound behind him with Celestial Bronze chains, as expected. Virgil moved to the back of the chair and prayed to his father to sharpen his sword before raising it in the air. He really doubted this would work, mostly because it shouldn’t and Phobos very rarely if ever answered his children’s prayers, but Virgil did not have the time or the patience to try to pick the lock. He swung Tempest down, striking the chains and, to his surprise, slicing straight through them like they were nothing. Virgil just stood there blinking for a second. He silently thanked his father before remembering the situation at hand.

His sword clattered onto the concrete floor as Virgil once again rounded the chair. He managed to untie Roman’s ankles despite his shaking hands. He took his shield off so he could cradle Roman’s face in his palms gingerly like he was afraid his touch would shatter him. Now that he got a better look at him, Virgil could tell that Roman was definitely looking worse for wear. His camp shirt was in tatters, blood staining it in one or two spots. There was dried blood on Roman’s face and bruises all over his body, and his breathing was weak but he was alive.

“Roman?” Virgil begged, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Come on baby, I need you to look at me. Don’t do this to me Roman, don’t do this to me again.”

A strangled half-sob clawed its way out of his throat as Roman still didn’t even stir. He was mostly fine, at least Virgil thought so, but he was no healer. What if he had like, internal bleeding or something Virgil couldn’t see because he didn’t know to look for it? His vision blurred through tears as all of the fear from the last few years slammed into him at once.

“Come on, beautiful.” Virgil’s voice was rough now with barely-contained cries, Roman’s vacant expression swimming before him. “You gotta wake up, I need you to come back to me. You have to be okay Roman, you have to. I still have so much I want to do and say and tell you and I-” Another choked sob escaped. “Please, just wake up!”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, as if that would block out everything wrong with this scenario, number one being Roman’s limp body in his arms. He heard a groan and his eyes flew open, watching Roman’s eyelids flutter. Once Roman realized someone was touching him his eyes wrenched themselves open wide and he began pushing away from Virgil in a blind panic. Virgil barely managed to hold on to his boyfriend, refusing to let him go again.

“Roman, baby it’s me, it’s me,” Virgil spoke reassurances over and over until he saw recognition behind Roman’s eyes followed behind a blossoming hope that made Virgil want to start crying all over again.

“W-wait,” Roman rasped, his voice rough and dry. “Virgil? You’re, you’re here?”

“It’s me, sweetheart,” Virgil nodded slowly, a watery smile finally finding its way onto his lips. “I’m here.”

Like the center of gravity had shifted, both boys fell into each other, hands grasping whatever they could find. Roman clung to Virgil like a drowning man would a breath of fresh air and Virgil wasn’t planning on loosening his grip anytime soon. Virgil was kneeling on concrete and Roman was still sitting in that chair, but damn it it was still the greatest hug Virgil had ever had. Virgil felt Roman tuck his face into the crook of Virgil’s neck and tears fall onto his skin and that was all it took for him to fall apart. He buried his face into Roman’s shoulder and just cried, ugly, rough, sobs that made his whole body shake and his hands cling tighter to the remains of Roman’s shirt. Gods, he had been so fucking scared and angry, so sure he was going to lose him. Every single emotion he’d pushed aside since that Iris Message dissipated seemed to hit him all at once and he just couldn’t handle it. Thankfully Roman didn’t push him away, instead reciprocating the tightness of the hug.

“I was so scared, Virgil,” Roman whispered into his neck. Virgil forced his sobbing to subside at least a bit so that he could hear what Roman was saying. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.”

“Me too.” Virgil pulled back just enough to remain in Roman’s arms but could still see his face. He lightly brushed away a tear on Roman’s cheek, trying to summon the same smile from earlier. “But I’m here now.”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Roman practically blurted out. Virgil kept his mouth shut as Roman chewed on his bottom lip, not sure how to proceed. “This whole thing, it, it made me realize that, our lives are so unpredictable and dangerous all the time. I could lose you at any moment or the other way around and I…” Roman took a breath slowly. “I don’t want that to happen before I tell you that...I love you.”

Virgil inhaled sharply and Roman’s eyes fell to his knees, not looking at Virgil as he processed what Roman had just said. He loved him. Roman loved him. He couldn’t help the incredulous that bubbled out of him and made Roman look back up in confusion. Virgil cupped his face again and pulled his lips down to meet his in a passionate, almost desperate kiss but oh so sweet and loving that they both had to pull back because they were grinning too much.

“I love you too, Ro,” Virgil laughed again. Gods, this day was just a rollercoaster of emotions. “I love you so damn much that half the time I don’t know what to do with it. If I can help it, I'm going to say it to you every single day until you get sick of it or I can’t anymore.”

“I will never grow sick of it.” Roman’s hands came up to wrap around Virgil’s, his smile the most beautiful thing Virgil had ever seen. “And I get the feeling that neither will you.”

“I love you, Roman Prince.”

“I love you, Virgil Camden.”

“You’re right, I’ll never get tired of that. Now let’s get you out of the creepy hostage basement, shall we?”

“Please.”

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eagesoldartblog · 5 years ago

Text

Hello, i am a day late for Whumptober but please enjoy another Au a friend and I made together once

Bleeding out

Lewis had no idea how long they been trapped there. Trapped in a single building lacking power and dwindling on the food it had stored away.

Two dozen people were present with him the day they were locked in- forced to stay in by an unbreakable barrier.

Who knows how many were left. Lewis sighs, rubbing his eye stiffly and glancing down to the two forms beside him.

Vivi, a woman seeking out knowledge on the paranormal happenings around tempo, an investigator. She had a sharp eye… the second weapons were introduced, she quickly took the reigns in teaching Lewis how to properly wield one.

Arthur… a young mechanic he probably wouldn’t have seen before if not for this situation. One of the firsts to be changed by the disease spread through the walls. Whatever it was, going feral as they dubbed it, it seemed to be infectious. That… didn’t matter too much to them.

Lewis hears a distant noise, and he looks to the door. Honing his ears to listen for the possibility of someone coming close. All the while he reaches for both Vivi and Arthur to wake them up.

The sound fades, and the race in Lewis’s heart finally slows.

Gunshots blast out, in a rapid stream that may have meant anything. Nothing safe, that was for sure.

Arthur jolts awake, sitting up urgently and rapidly taking in the room, seeing nothing but the three of them. Slowly, Vivi blinks awake.

“What happened? Is someone after us-“ His breath hitches, Lewis’s hand resting on his shoulder and massaging it gently.

“I’m not sure, but they sound close.”

“God dammit.” Vivi grumbles, pushing against the floor and standing, stretching a small bit before she glances over at him, “I’ll barricade the door. Lewis, can you look into the closet to see if there’s a ... broom-? Or something.”

He nods, pushing himself up quickly and making his way through the darkness to the closet.

His hand barely grazed the handle, before the sound of intense knocking raptures his ears. He spins around.

Vivi glares at the door in suspicion, refusing to get near it, not with the heavy torrent of fists banging against it.

Not saying anything, she shoots a look over her shoulder to the two, a quick warning to get up.

Without thinking, Lewis scoops Arthur up, remaining silent the entire time, mind for the smallest whisper; “Sorry, we can rest more soon.”

Arthur nods, the bags under his eyes proving that he didn’t believe Lewis for a second, and he stretches himself. Reaching into his pocket, Arthur brings out his pistol. No bullets ready.

“LET US IN!” A voice screams, a heavy blow done to the door- near the doorknob, “WE WONT BE FREE! NOT UNLESS WE-“ they cut themselves off, or- someone else does.

Several bullets are shot.

Vivi can’t help but cringe.

Then something else happens.

The door knob twists, someone is playing with it.

And then-

“They’re unscrewing the door knob..!” Arthur reports, able to recognize the sound, ”They’re gonna get in. We need to hide.”

Vivi backs cautiously from the door, ”I know. I know we just-“

The door explodes, wood chips flying everywhere. The blast ringing in their ears. The barrel of a gun- a shot gun- pokes through the enormous hole. The man holding it, with disheveled hair and noticeable scratches to his face spots Arthur, and his grimace intensifies.

“Oh there you are, you little bitch.” Arthur flinches, unsure and confused.

”Did I attack hi-“

“You sure did!” The man hollers, gun raised and in one fast flash of intense light, Arthur is sent back. A spray of blood painting the wall, chunks of his flesh hitting the floor.

Lewis’s heart drops, diving for him, and quickly figuring where he was shot.

His left shoulder. His arm now barely dangling from the remains of tearing muscle.

Face blank, Arthur’s legs shake and tremble, eyes barely floating from the empty space in the door - Where Vivi had thrown it open, grabbing at the man and wrestling him to the floor - to his own arm.

Lewis’s chest tightens, and he twists Arthurs head to face him instead, “Look at me, look at me, Arthur. This is going to hurt very much but I need you to hold on for me.”

Arthur is barely paying attention. The shock completely set in.

Lewis swivels his head back, eyes settling on the door frame and seeing nothing.

Where did Vivi go?!

Swallowing back his anxiety, Lewis forces himself back to Arthur, figuring Vivi is rushing to find where the guy went.

Sucking in his breath, Lewis gingerly - and urgently - squeezes his hands under Arthur and heaves him into his arms. Arthurs arm dangles loosely, and Lewis quickly attempts to grab it and place it over Arthurs chest- but when he grabs it, Arthur shrieks. Thrashing in his arms, struggling against him and nearly making Lewis drop him.

Arthur barely stifles a yell, and another rain of noise pierces their ears. Something so distinct yet foreign it made Lewis want to cower and collapse. Like glass shattering but in the form of a train racing past him, and it echos all over. Arthur whines, a stream of blood seeping into his clothes and dripping onto the floor.

Its not safe here right now.. we have to go!

Lewis races down the hall, holding Arthur close to his chest, tightly holding his shoulder toward them and praying the pressure would help in anyway.

Except, crumbles of concrete fell, the walls starting to splinter and crack, and in horror, Lewis watches it cave in on one side, threatening to continue until they were crushed. Unless, they turn back.

Lewis grits his teeth anxiously, looking from the caving walls to Arthur. And he spins on his heel, rushing back to the room they were in before, where he could hide Arthur from anyone else, and properly wrap his shoulder.

Lewis kicks the door open and slides in. Resting Arthur ok his back, Lewis locks the door (as futile as that was) and switches his attention to his shirt, ripping a long chunk of his shirt and falling to his knees.

“L-Lewis..! Lewis it hurts-“

“I know.. I know sweetheart.” Lewis whispers, trying to keep himself from looking directly at the pulsating wound.

“Here, I’m going to wrap it and..”

Arthur passed out, eyes wide and mouth hung open. And Lewis doesn’t know if he should be relieved or not. Pressing his palm against Arthur’s chest, he sighs in relief and got to work wrapped his arm to his side.

“We’ll get out of here soon, sweetheart. I promise..!” Lewis whispers, eyes blurring and stinging, Arthur doesn’t respond and sudden thoughts strikes him.

Arthur could die. He could die and Vivi is gone!

“Arthur- Arthur please stay with me.” He says softly, unsure of what he's saying. Feeling for his heartbeat, feeling it steadily fade.

“No..!” He gasps, the ache in his chest getting out of control, spiraling into despair, “please! Please don’t die.. I need y-“

Bright, piercing lights flood the room, blinding Lewis. He squints through his tears, the sudden intensity far too much for him to see through.

What is that-

“Hands up!” An unfamiliar voice shouts, and Lewis’s shoulders tense. He doesn’t respond immediately, but he slowly turns his head, making out a man in blue, surprisingly clean cut. Someone who hasn’t been here as long as they have.

“Hands, up.” The man- officer repeats, and Lewis swallows, rising to his feet and doing as he said, but keeping his eyes on Arthur.

“H-he…. sir- my friend is hurt.” Lewis starts, babbling, “He needs help- sir-!”

“That’s enough, sir.” The police officer says, lowering the gun a tad bit, eyes drifting to the floor where Arthur was, “What happened to him?”

“He got shot. I was trying to stop the bleeding but the walls started to fall-“

The police officer nods.

It happens too quickly. Someone comes in with a stretcher, Arthur is lifted up and pushed out on it.

Someone else comes in to talk to him, but Lewis doesn’t hear them. He’s escorted out.

What…. happened..

#whumptober2019 #fanfics #Time demon au #tw: blood #graphic descriptions of violence #guns #tw: gun violence

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loyalflutist · 5 years ago

Text

Scarlet Carnation - Prologue (F!Byleth x Edelgard)

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Words: 7,084 Collaboration with @datsexykiwi Summary: “Ignorance is bliss...when you know too much, you will only face worse dilemmas of your lifetime”

Byleth is thrust into a difficult position. After experiencing a strange dream, the professor eventually finds herself switching between the two worlds with two very different Edelgards. Though they contrast from each other, Byleth could not help but cherish them... as they do for her.

A/N: So this is the first series I’ve written for Edeleth, and this is a collaboration I’m grateful to have with the lovely Kate, also known as @datsexykiwi . As someone who I’ve known for years, she’s someone I place great faith in her writing and trust in the ideas we cook up together. Hope you all enjoy this series! I really enjoyed writing it! :)

Kate’s A/N: Enjoy the max of angst and fluff. Have fun along with us. ;)

---

It was hot.

A young woman’s forehead gleam under the relentless sun, sweat dripping from her features. Her breaths were as fast as it could come and go. The dark, light armor that should have served as protection over her academic attire was in lieu of roasting her alive. She licked her cracked, bottom lip; a tinge of metal swept over her taste buds.

It was unbearably hot.

Loud, metallic screeches, horses neighing, and screams of all kinds filled the blurry background. There were a variety of sounds that would have driven out any ordinary person. This was something she was used to.

She looked down at her feet. A pool of blood stained the rocky pavement that belongs to the monastery; her metal combat boots were deep in the puddle. Evaporation in this humid and sweltering heat should have occurred in less than a few minutes. However, the ground remained moist as its source oozed plenty of crimson from his injuries. The Sword of Creator was lodged deep into the nameless soldier’s ribcage, its jagged edges slicing through all three germ layers. His facial expressions were, thankfully, overshadowed by his large steel helmet.

“...”

Byleth blinked. It had dawned upon her that she was still gripping ahold of the terrifying relic. Then, with a grunt, the older woman heard a sickening slick while removing her sword. The blade was coated in a deep shade of red. Unfortunately, it didn’t only derive from the deceased warrior. She slowed her respiration rate, her hues shifted upward at the battlefield.

Shadows shaped like fighters of all sizes and shapes ran at each other. When they collided, a black mist would swirl around as if they were dancing to the tune of death. Sparks and elemental spells would erupt from the visual attraction. Then, they would separate. They became still. This stillness would only last for a couple of seconds, however. One would showcase a noticeable trait of losing the blackness that enveloped their figures. Their identity would become public as they accept their demise.

This was surreal. Byleth’s knuckles became white as her aching limbs screamed for mercy. She can’t seem to recall her reason for being here. No matter how much the ex-mercenary mentally groveled, her brain would only pull up blanks. Still, there was one thing she was sure of: she had to be here in this battle.

“tɾo faða noi dɔn joɹhan dorja”

“...”

Archaic language thumped her eardrums. Clearly, it was something Byleth didn’t comprehend. She exhaled. The professor eventually raised her weapon once more as three more shadows crept towards her from the distance; each of them possesses one of the three shadow-cloaked weapons: a sword, a lance, and an axe. She squeezed the relic’s handle.

‘ Is this a dream? ’

It has to be. Not only were there supernatural elements that she could not coherently wrap her head around, but she was also the only person who retained her physical appearance. But it was vivid. The pain that singed from the sweats’ contact with her minor cuts, the wild beating of her heart against her chest plate, the aches that resonated in her worn muscles, and the fatigue that shrouded over her consciousness was a bit too realistic.

‘ Is this really a dream? ’

Alas, Byleth left it at that. The three unwelcome guests soon closed their distance. She lowered her head, closed her eyes, and deeply inhaled. When she exhaled, her eyelids snapped open and she flicked her wrist. Rocky debris kicked up in the air as she launched herself at the three enemies. The blade was reeled behind her back, her glare prominent.

“It’s over!”

The shadows retaliated. The lancer thrust their spearhead at her chest, the axe-wielder pulled back both arms to deliver a slamming blow, and the sword-user horizontally swiped at the professor.

Byleth pivot her feet. She sucked in her stomach and twisted her upper body. It was a fleeting moment for the spear’s tip to brush up on her heated armor. A battle cry was heard from her direction as she, with all her might, swung her weapon.

The Sword of Creator is a powerful tool during times of conflict. Parts of the blade broke apart into small chunks. It began to emit a dull glow as its razor-like edges flung outward at her enemies. They were unable to block the devastating assault. A single swing produced a multitude of traumas to their body. Splatters of red painted Byleth’s cheek. One by one, the black shell vanished without a trace as they collapsed onto the new puddle.

“...”

She lurched forward. Byleth quickly shoved her foot in front of her to prevent a fall. The young teacher was hunched over, panting; her vision was fading in and out like strobe lights. This is terribly exhausting. She slammed the relic onto the cracked pavement. Using it as support, the neon green-haired dryly swallowed and raised her head.

“...?”

There was another shadow from a few meters. Compared to most others that fill the disheveled landscape, this individual was shorter than them. A monstrous axe slashed through their existence like a hot knife through butter. Each strike brought out more fluids from their victims; dark substances flung in the air in slow motion. It was done with complete elegance and ease. This should have rung plenty of alarm bells in her head. No one should have possessed the strength to make bloodshed a visual treat. They’re a monster; a beast that should be put down. Instead, Byleth could not help but be in awe of the enigmatic person.

She could sense danger emitting from the short fighter. Fortunately, her instincts scream that the teacher has nothing to worry about. Whether Byleth’s guts are being churlish or not with her life is up for speculation. The older woman continued to observe the ephemeral bloody dance.

Just who is this shadow?

“...Huh?”

There was another dark figure spotted in Byleth’s peripheral sight. Sweat continued to fall from her face as her eyes were fixated on the new arrival. When her gaze slowly traced the shadow’s objective, her blood froze.

“?!”

Murderous beauty may have been bestowed to the shadow, but it did not prevent an unfortunate ending. Newfound energy burst through four of her limbs. The ex-mercenary scrambled towards the axe-wielder. Byleth was still unable to grasp ahold of her action’s purpose. But, just like her instincts told her about the unforgiving battle, she too had to protect this shadow.

‘ The Divine Pulse! ’

It was all for naught. Regardless of the amount of concentration she emphasized on the potent skill, not a speck of dust reversed to its original position on the concrete slab. Everything was still progressing forward.

‘ Why is it not working?! ’

There was no time.

She had no choice.

She needed to--

Byleth shoved the shadow out of the way. This threw the person off balance as their entire body stumbled sideways. Facial features were impossible to read, but the teacher could have sworn she saw a flicker of a familiar identity. She widened her eyes. The fighter extended her unoccupied hand out towards the supernatural.

There was a blunt thud pressed into her back. Then, the dull aches that plagued her tightened muscles ramped up to excruciating pain that ripped through her entire being. Byleth felt as if her spine had exploded! Just when this searing agony felt as if it could get any worse, it immediately dissipated… just like her consciousness.

< ---- >

“---!!”

She gasped and woke up abruptly from her bed. That was certainly a sudden transition from a bloody battle to being in a cozy bed within a tranquil atmosphere. She placed her hand onto her shoulder, remembering that pain against her back. It felt too real that she actually thought she’s dead. She wondered why would she have such a bizarre dream like that. Is it a premonition? Is it just irrational thoughts playing tricks on her dream?

“What a nightmare to have… ”

It’s about time to get up from bed towards her morning class. It’s another day she’ll be instructing the Black Eagles classroom. However, Byleth couldn’t shake the thought away about the dream she had recently. The thing is, those dreams started with being so vague she could barely remember any details of it aside from the fact she’s dreaming. Eventually, she started seeing and remembering more details as everything started to feel real. Sometimes, she would even be aware of what was happening but absolutely have no control over what was happening. She sighed and wondered what was this all about until she heard her green-haired friend speaking inside her mind.

‘ Nightmare again? ’

“...It has been so frequently. I’m starting to feel like I’m sleep deprived.”

‘Too bad I couldn’t see the dream itself, but I can tell you looked uncomfortable in your sleep.’

“...”

Byleth sighed before she changed into her signature black outfit look and lace stockings. She left her room and hid her exhaustion under her poker face like usual. She’s not that expressive according to Jeralt and her students that have been with her for a couple of weeks. She headed to her class to begin the training.

Today’s lesson plan was to teach her fellow students how to balance properly as an essential skill in the battle.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re a swordsman or not. Balance is an essential skill that everyone must understand how to use it. Or else, you’ll simply put yourself at a disadvantage unnecessarily. It is both a defensive and offensive skill.”

She demonstrated how to lower the center of gravity, gripping onto the ground firmly with one’s toes. Byleth demonstrated simple actions that allowed her students to understand it without much complexity. It is one of the most difficult basics that took her years to grasp it.

“You can’t always rely on brute force. When you are on the battlefield, what determines the victor is not who’s physically stronger, but who knows how to utilize their body’s strengths better. The ladies will have an advantage due to the fact that they naturally have a lower center of gravity than men. Simple basics, but a difficult mastery.”

Byleth walked up to the dummy made from bamboo. She used the training sword and showed her students its sharpness; it wasn’t that great. It could barely cut through one. However, she will use that same blade to cut through a pack of 3 bamboo stalks in a single strike. All of the members of Black Eagles watched attentively before the young professor did not use any brute force to cut, but was able to slice through all the stalks with a single fluid motion without breaking her sword.

“If you know how to use your hip and balance well with your skills, then you are able to cut through the enemy’s armor or weapon.”

She then asked Caspar to assist her by swinging the sword with all his might at her. At first, he was reluctant to do so but Byleth asked him to trust her. In the end, he did as his professor said, and the moment he dashed and swung his training sword up into the air, ready to cut Byleth down, she swung her sword right at him too.

KLANK

It was Caspar’s sword that fell out from his grip and he could feel the numbness rushing through his shivering hand. Edelgard recognized it; that was the same move that she used to disarm the bandits on their first encounter.

“You can disarm, and that is enough to buy the time to strike your opponent down. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Good, let’s begin the training. Go to your assigned station. I will come to check on you all individually.”

Byleth went around the group checking on her students, teaching all the fundamentals that Jeralt used to teach her when she’s simply just a kid. All of them showed perseverance and put all their effort to learn from her. After the training came to an end, she delegated one and a half spare hour for her team to focus on anything they wanted to do. Meanwhile, she will be working with three students on their private one-on-one training every time. Today, she would be checking up on Caspar, Dorothea, and Edelgard.

“Professor! Is this how you do it?”

“Not quite, you have to lower your balance a bit more.”

Byleth watched the young blue-haired boy stood his ground. She circled around him before she pushed him abruptly without him realizing it, sending him falling onto the ground.

“W-Whoa!?”

“Not good enough, Caspar. You have to relax more.”

“Gah! This is so hard...”

“Like I said, it is a difficult mastery.”

“You’re so good at it...”

“Keep practicing, Caspar. You will get there eventually.”

Finishing with the young boy, she headed to Dorothea and as expected she did slightly better than Caspar due to her natural low center of gravity. As she physically has to shift Dorothea, that made her student giggle and tease the older female.

“Oh professor, I feel so intimate when you’re touching me like that...”

“Keep the context clean, Dorothea.”

“C’mon! Just play along, will you?”

“Not when you make it sound like I’m physically violating you.”

“You’re such a fiend, professor!”

“Oh lord...”

As usual, Byleth was subjected to Dorothea’s sly tease every time she tried to teach her something, at least she’s a very studious girl that worked extremely hard or just as much as Edelgard herself. After she finished her session with her, the last remaining 20 minutes was with the head of the Black Eagles, Edelgard.

“Professor, could I test my skills?”

“I don’t mind that. What would you like me to do?”

“Please attack me, I want to do that disarming move you did.”

“Make sure you disarm me, because I won’t hold back.”

“That will be my pleasure.”

Byleth ran in and swung her sword towards Edelgard before she twisted, using her lower body as her strength to add power into her strike. That struck onto Byleth’s sword, but it didn’t manage to disarm her. However, it was enough to force the professor backward to regain her distance. Edelgard had that slight disappointment in her face as she thought she would’ve disarmed Byleth.

“That was really good. If I didn’t hold my sword tightly enough, it would’ve flew out from my hand. That was splendid, Edelgard.”

She smiled and praised her student for her amazing achievement. That made the young emperor blush slightly with contentment despite not reaching her expectations. As the tutoring session continued on, the class was finally over. Everyone slowly left the room to the dining hall for their meals whilst Edelgard was the last student to leave.

“Professor, are you by chance available at the moment?”

“What is the matter?”

“Well...I want to speak with you in person. Discuss some few matters.”

“Very well then, like usual?”

It seemed there was some secret way they communicate with each other. Edelgard nodded softly with those pink blushing cheeks that it made the professor just have to tease her a little bit. She pinched her soft silky cheeks before letting out a soft chuckle.

“You are adorable, Edelgard.”

“Stop teasing me.”

“My bad, let us go, shall we? I’m certain you brought your packed lunch.”

Bull’s eye. Edelgard did request a packed lunch earlier in the morning since it was her plan to have a private lunch session with her professor without other students around. They headed out to a quiet secluded space where there wouldn’t be many students around to spot them nor disturb their peace for lunch and tea. What they usually talk was related to their class content, especially digesting what she learned through the past week.

“Today’s class was very interesting. I had a lot of fun.”

“I’m glad you did. You’re doing really well too.”

“It is because of your guidance and training.”

“You credited me too much, Edelgard.”

“Not at all, professor.”

After they talked about their lessons, their conversation started to shift to something more casual and rather personal between the two of them. During the past weeks, Byleth was working in the Monastery as a professor, she certainly developed a special bond with Edelgard. Not sure where this is leading the two of them to, but Byleth realize she developed this sense of adoration towards the young emperor. She enjoyed her time with the young lady when it is just the two of them, it feels rather different from when they were other students in the class. As for Edelgard herself, she was clear with how she’s especially fond of the professor in a way she never ever did to anyone in her life. Byleth seemed to have a special place in her heart, but she was yet to be very honest with her selfish demands.

“I hope one day I can be as strong as you, professor.”

“I’m certain you will be.”

“...Will you be there to watch me? Being there with me?”

“I would love to. You all have a bright future up ahead and it would be a great pride and joy to watch you all grow stronger. I want to be there and see how far will you rise and shine as a future emperor of the Empire, Edelgard.”

“You promised, okay? You’ll be there with me.”

Edelgard moved in closer and began to whisper softly so no one could’ve overheard her words. Byleth didn’t reject her and only placed her hand on top of Edelgard’s hand before smiling back at her with sweet adoration.

“So, you want me there with you when you become an emperor, am I correct?”

“...I suppose if you put it bluntly like that, yes.”

“I see.”

She didn’t tease her much aside from giving a soft kiss on her forehead. That made her blush over to her ears in silence, she leaned onto her shoulder before they held each other’s hand without saying a word to each other. Byleth may have been experienced with countless battles, but she’s a novice when it comes to romance - Edelgard included. They spent their tranquil moment enjoying each other’s company before time is up. It was about time they return back to their classes.

“Edelgard, we must go.”

“Right.”

As she slowly let go of her professor, she seemed to be reluctant and it was written all over her face. Byleth picked up those hints that the young emperor wanted to do or say something.

“What’s wrong?”

“...Well, this is embarrassing.”

“...”

The professor could read her expression, and that made her giggled softly to herself before she opened her arms for the young one to come in. She ended up blushed even more with how her professor managed to read her childish mind so easily. She refrained from going in for the hug and made Byleth rather puzzled for a second.

“Ah, was that a bit too much?”

“Y-You’re such a bully, professor.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“How could you be capable of doing such things like this without being embarrassed?”

“Not sure myself, for some reason, I’m not embarrassed by it.”

“You’re truly weird, professor.”

This time she just pushed herself into Byleth’s arms and embrace her tightly. The young one buried her face onto her shoulder. That made the professor embrace her back gently. Despite the tough character she portrayed, she has this childish side that loves hugs. It was for a few seconds, but it is quite long for the two of them.

Byleth returned back to her room and felt so exhausted. It may have been lack of sleep she’s been having recently. She decided to go to bed early today and then she heard Sothis speaking inside her mind.

‘ You’ve become quite fond of that girl. ’

“Huh…?”

‘ Just be careful, she’s still a child. ’

“I am well aware of that. She’s an adorable student of mine.”

‘ I wonder if it is just a student-teacher relationship you both shared. I doubt she is thinking that way about you though. I lived long enough to realize that. ’

“Well...I don’t know what to say.”

‘ My only warning would be, don’t give her false hopes if you’re not planning to see it through until the end. ’

“Never thought there will be a day I got a piece of love advice you.”

‘ Shut up, I may look young but I lived way much longer than you do, kid. ’

“Yes, ma’am.”

Byleth gave Sothis a slight tease back but what she said was true though. She’s well aware of Edelgard’s growing feelings that may have towards her. The way she looked and sought physical comfort from her has been escalating gradually. Even though she adored Edelgard quite a bit more than several students, she wouldn’t be able to say that would make her anywhere special and different from other students like Dorothea, Caspar, Bernadette and others too. Byleth wasn’t sure herself if she would call that romantic affection that she has for Edelgard, but regardless of that, she should be careful not to give false hope to her. Rejection is painful, but what's worse than that is receiving false hopes from the one they love.

“...Thank you for the warning though, I will keep that in mind.”

She thanked Sothis back, but she didn’t respond anymore. She probably went to sleep inside Byleth or something, as usual. Thus, it was about time for her to go to bed too. As she lay down and closed her eyes...she recalled that dream was killed. For some reason, she couldn’t shake those thoughts away. As her mind slowly drifted off into the darkness, she wondered if she would have that same nightmare again this time or not...

< ---- >

CAW! CAW! CAW!

She cracked open her eyelids from the annoying sound. No matter how much she tried to will herself to stay asleep, the ridiculous noise would only increase in tempo and volume. It was almost like out of a horror tale Hubert would spook everyone with! This left her with the latter option of waking up, much to her dismay.

Through her lens, the older female stared at a blurry, brown wall. The natural twitches from her fingertips brushed upon a rather tough, granite-like surface. When she dragged her gaze upward, she found herself peering through a pile of broken pillars and stone slabs. The entire structure was acting as a small shelter for the teacher; its large hole from above provided the necessary sunlight for the woman.

“...”

Clearly, she was not in bed anymore. Just where is she?

That was the first question that popped to mind upon awakening. Byleth regained more of her consciousness as she sat up. This tactician felt a groan slip out as she pressed against her forehead. Small bits of rocks and pebbles were heard rolling off of her chest. She blinked. Then, a bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face.

‘ Okay… I’m not at the academy for sure. ’

Obvious deductions were noted. Byleth lowered her hand and scanned her surroundings. The placement of the materials won’t pose any threat to her life. When the professor rapped her knuckles on a torn pillar with ferocity, it hardly budged. There was also plenty of room to stand up on her feet in this secluded premise. She quickly brushed off the residue from her dirtied skirt.

‘ ...Sothis? ’

No response. Confuzzled, Byleth made another attempt.

‘ Sothis… Don’t tell me you’re still sleeping. ’

Once again, no response. The teal-haired frowned. This was especially concerning. Sothis was never the type to leave her hanging. After all, she is the only person in existence to be able to communicate and see her. There’s no doubt that the petite woman would jump at every opportunity to talk at her beck and call. (Almost like a cat!) To boot, wherever Byleth is, Sothis was always there by her side.

‘ I’m sure I’ll figure it out later. ’

There was no point in dwindling upon the matter. Thinking and wishing won’t bring the short woman back to her side. Besides, there are far more important matters to tend to as of right now.

Byleth eventually recognized the Sword of Creator’s presence. The weapon had laid comfortably on the cracked pavements, waiting for its master to relinquish their ownership.

‘ I should get out of here. ’

The ex-mercenary thought of her next course of action as she retrieved her sword. She sheathed the ancient relic back on her waist and looked up at the hole. Gauging from its distance, size, and her skillset, Byleth should be able to make it.

Knees and elbows bent, the professor jumped up and grabbed ahold of the hole’s borders. Thanks to her efforts in training with the students and remaining vigilant with her exercises, this posed little to no strain on her muscles.

Byleth popped out of the pile like a flying fish. Both of her legs straightened as she squarely plopped on the ground. Had her students witnessed this feat, they would have clapped and praised for her acrobatic endeavors!

The teal-haired’s eyes nearly boggled out of its sockets. Unfortunately, desolation was her audience.

It was so barren, and this place... It was once the defense base of the monastery. Various structures were in shambles as if someone or something had rocked this sacred area; its servitude as a protective guardian beyond its walls was fruitless. When she glanced up, the sky high above was cloudless, but consist of a sun tormenting those below with its rays of light. If there was someone worth mentioning, it’s those pesky crows that perched on the black branches of a dead tree. Six of them stared at Byleth; their beaks were clamped shut. It appears that they have a new subject to overwatch on this land.

Byleth tapped the side of her head as she examined her setting.

‘ Just what in the world happened here…? ’

So far, Byleth can’t see a single, notable landmark beyond the base that would pinpoint her next destination. Her shoulders and head slumped.

‘ I have no choice but to walk around and find a village. If I remember correctly, there should be one behind this defense structure. ’

The woman glanced over her shoulder. There was an old, architectural wooden gate that led straight to the interior of the monastery’s ground. Many small communities gathered as a way to become closer to the Church of Seiros. Past the villages and towns, the Officer’s Academy sat above the civilians. To the residents, this was a gift. To the teacher, this meant hope for human contact.

Glimmers of sweat formed on her forehead, the metallic armor she usually wears during battle beginning to rise in temperature. The instructor felt her eyebrow twitch. It was getting hot. Like, really REALLY hot.

‘ I really should get a move on. ’

CAW! CAW! CAW!

Oh, if those flocks of birds can give it a rest!

Byleth tensed her shoulders and glared at the source. The crows wildly cried out, their black wings flapping at similar intervals with their callings. They were so quiet before. What made them act up? Is it because they found her amusing? Or is she too boring of a subject for observation? She stiffened her dry lips when one of the six crows left the mass. This particular bird flew right in her direction.

‘ Oh no! ’

Alarmed, Byleth sidestepped. What she did not take into account after sidestepping was catching sight of the military. The small group of soldiers that appeared from the now-opened wooden gate were chattering with each other. There were five of them. One of them held onto the reins of a snow-white horse as four others respectively held lances and swords in their hands. Some laughed out loud, one nearly doubled over from the profound topic. Whatever cheery banter they had came to a screeching halt, per contra.

“...”

“?”

Upon closer inspection, Byleth noticed that they were from the Adrestian Empire.

‘ Edelgard… ’ Her eyes widen. ‘ Edelgard! ’

How lucky! Meeting up with these fellow comrades meant that she could reunite with the Black Eagles! Her students must be worried sick if she had been sleeping outside of her dormitory room, even more so outside of the Officer’s Academy! Edelgard might give her a good scolding, but that’s the least of her worries!

The professor’s stoic features faintly brightened as she approached the soldiers.

“Excuse me--”

“EEK!”

Byleth nearly tumbled forward and onto her face; she caught herself in the nick of time by flailing her arms. She whipped her head towards the source.

Lo and behold, it was one of the soldiers. He stood rigid and hugged his lance. Not that he was the only one who squealed like a little girl. The other four warriors blanched at the sight of the instructor. Byleth let out a weary sigh.

“I hope you understand that your reactions really hurt me.”

“STAY AWAY!”

“...hah?”

The ex-mercenary was not one for explicitly showcasing her emotions. She just can’t seem to break out any form of expressions beyond disappointment, shock, content, and the occasional cheeky smile. In this case, she bluntly expressed bewilderment. What is wrong with them? Just because she has difficulty in showing features doesn’t mean she looks like a horror show!

Before Byleth could request for information, the five soldiers aimed their weapons at the staff member.

“Mommy, I’m so sorry for doubting you!”

“I thought you died!”

“G-GHOST!”

“What should we tell the emperor!?”

“GO BACK, YOU FIEND!”

It was a discombobulated verbiage. Byleth could not even muster the energy to say something witty right back at them. Actually-- There was no need for wittiness. The teal-haired woman unsheathed her Sword of Creator and pointed it at them. This elicited another squeal from the same male; the tip of his weapon trembled violently.

“I don’t want to do this,” she murmured. “But you leave me with no choice.”

The entire fight sequence took less than a minute, to her surprise. Perhaps fear had gotten to their nerves as their stances were out of line. Simple dodge mechanics and closing in on them made their souls fly out of their body. Byleth also made sure to use the butt end of her handle to knock the stubborn ones out. If anything, her existence made them faint!

“...”

Out of all the conflicts she had witnessed and experienced, this one has to be the most embarrassing of them all. At least it made the traverse to the inner parts of the monastery easier. This was also made possible thanks to the horse that one of the soldiers had. Unlike the horse’s owner, this creature was indifferent with respect to the instructor.

“Hope you don’t mind me borrowing him,” she mumbled under her breath. “I’ll return the horse later.”

That was something she appreciates after the ruckus this day has become. Besides, there is not a moment to waste. She must hurry back to the Officer’s Academy and reunite with her students!

The trek from the outsider borders and into the community opened up to a setting she was familiar with. Villagers and merchants occupied the roads and houses. Domestic animals greeted Byleth with their barks and yelps. Foreigners from all parts of Fodlan were frequently spotted in the midst of small crowds. This revisitation alone almost made the professor forgive and forget the incident with the soldiers earlier that day.

However, something was amiss. As the black horse slowed his pacing, she overheard one of the local merchants.

“It’s already been five years, hasn’t it?”

“Ah, yes… Five years since the fighting with the three nations has started.”

A faint sigh came from the old woman. She adjusted her hold on the cane and shook her head at the female merchant.

“I hope this war can end soon. I’ve heard Lady Edelgard has gone mad since she lost someone.”

“Who?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just a rumor.”

Byleth nearly tore the rein from pulling it back so harshly. This caused the horse to lift his front hooves up and madly kick the air. Had the creature prolonged its posture for another second, the poor mentor would have fallen off of his back. The horse threw his head upward. Evidently, the mammal fidgeted on the spot. She loosened her hold on the reins and soothingly pat his neck.

‘ Five years… Five years?! And what war?! I don’t remember there being any conflict yesterday! ‘ The patting slowed to a stop. ‘ This is all a dream, isn’t it? ’

The woman retracted her hand. She proceeded to pinch her own cheek and pull on it. Pain shot up from the abrupt stretching of the epidermis. Byleth released it with watery eyes.

‘ This isn’t a dream. ’

Dread loomed over her head. Whatever burst of energy she had now trickled out rapidly. Byleth’s guts continuously pound against its own chest, bellowing of impending bad news. Her jawlines became prominent. So many questions boiled underneath her sturdy exterior. At any given moment, she might explode from the deadly force of her curiosity and confusion.

‘ ...I have to see my students. ’

Byleth flicked the reins and leaned forward, the horse galloping as fast as possible towards the tall structures.

Pristine conditions that were evident from the distance eroded its illusion the closer she got. Many of the stone blocks were blown to smithereens. Black marks discolored the once-wonderful and prestigious academy for the students and staff. It made Byleth wonder what her father, Jeralt, would say about the condition. (Not that he would have anything to say in the first place.) Maybe Rhea, Seteth, and Flayn would have had a stronger reaction towards this mess. The fact that the holy ground was stampeded all over by the force of bloodshed would be more than enough to make any devoted followers of Seiros wail for redemption.

At least the marketplace was spared, albeit the number of foreigners and refugees from other parts of the nations increased by tenfold.

“Halt!”

One of the soldiers at the main gate raised his hand. She immediately heeded to his motion and slowed the black creature. The horse tossed let out a small puff through his nostrils as the man approached the dismounted woman. His brown irises gazed upon Byleth’s. Then, his eyes widen.

“Wait… are you really…?”

“?”

She blinked.

“Oh, right! You must’ve forgotten about me already.” The man became bashful, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. A wide grin ran across his face as the helmet overshadowed his eyes. This was a complete contrast to his prior tonality; the deep voice erased with a higher pitch. “Please allow me to speak to you normally again.”

‘ Normally? What could he possibly mean? ’

The steel soldier saluted to Byleth.

“Greetings, Professor! I welcome you back to the monastery!”

“...Thank you.”

It was him, alright. The same fellow that had always greeted her since day one at the academy. Although military personnel were, overall, kind, none of them matched the level of generosity and sweetness as this man. His famous “Greetings, Professor!” always echoed in the back of her mind whenever she thinks of this particular soldier. Five years hardly did a number to his young features. Perhaps he had gotten more handsome instead? Byleth finds it an amusing thought to ponder about.

His smile lingered on his features as he lowered his hand.

“I knew you were alive! I’ve always had hopes that you would return to us.”

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

He scratched the side of his head.

“Don’t you remember? Five years ago, the Black Eagle Strike Force all witnessed your death at the hand of Lady Rhea… though I don’t know the details all too well since I wasn’t a part of that battle.”

“I’m still not following you.”

It sounds simple on paper, but when he reiterated the information, she simply responded with a blank stare.

Death? How in the world did that concept bear fruit? Unmistakably, Byleth is alive and well. The ex-mercenary curled and uncurled her fingers. Her sense of touch was still intact. She can perform basic arithmetic. Her memory hasn’t failed her so far, save it for her origin and real age. These were some of the traits that a deceased person wouldn’t retain. A dead person is anything but alive. There was also the mention of Rhea… The tactician held the side of her head. Just what does she have to do with Byleth’s lifeline?

“I could see that you’re still confused, Professor...”

“I am.”

“I suggest that you talk to the emperor about this. I’m sure Lady Edelgard will be pleased to hear of this news.”

Hearing her name caused Byleth’s heart to increase its thumping intensity. She placed a hand on her chest and formed a small smile.

“I will do that, then.”

Pleased with her answer, the gatekeeper allowed her to go through the main floors of the monastery. A step into the main floor garnered more attention than she needed. Many Adrestian Empire’s soldiers penetrated her vulnerable exterior with their piercing stares. Some became as white as a sheet. Some began to tremble at the sight of the professor. Others toughened their features. All of their reactions were anything but pleasant.

‘ If only more of them acted like the Gatekeeper. ’

Whispers of a ghost floated around her auditory organ. Uncertainty filled the atmosphere as she marched onward to the classrooms. She found herself standing inside one of them by the doorless entranceway. The sight of her assigned classroom for the Black Eagles still stood well after the supposed five years time gap. As for the other classrooms? Empty. Not a single soul existed in the Blue Lions and Golden Deers Houses.

Just where are the students? The premise should have never been this empty… unless they have all graduated? That was plausible since the students would have to leave the academy in pursuit of their own goals. Then again, there is also that war that was mentioned-- and Lady Rhea being the cause of her death.

Byleth cupped her own chin and lowered her head. There are too many outliers here, and she doesn’t have Sothis to confide to. She’s on her own. Her eyes narrowed. These questions and theories can’t go unanswered. Perhaps it would be best she shares this knowledge with the two people she trusts: Jeralt and Edelgard.

“Professor? Is that really you?”

Isn’t there a pleasant tinkle to that articulation. Byleth knew fully well who it was. She barely got the chance to turn around when Petra and Dorothea advanced to their mentor. The princess of Brigid gleamed and immediately reached out to grab ahold of her hand.

“Oh, Professor! How we miss you so much! I knew you were alive at all these times!”

They’ve changed so much. Both of them radiated in beauty as a blooming flower. It also appears that Dorothea had dropped the signature hat. (What a shame.) It was the warmth that she happily received. In spite of the fact that Byleth would want to contradict with her statement, the tears that flowed down her and Dorothea’s cheeks made her hold back her words. She merely nodded her head in silence.

“You know how worried you made us?” Dorothea used the back of her hand to wipe the teardrops. “When Edie told her that you died, I didn’t believe in her.”

“Yes. I am the same way too. Edelgard is wrong about that.”

“Whoa, what’s with the commotion. Both Lady Edelgard and I would like for you both to-- Teach?”

His long, luscious orange hair flowed naturally as he swooped into the room. Right next to Ferdinand, there was another familiar figure that Byleth would never mistake in her lifetime and the next. The two nobles hurried over to the small group of three. He glanced up and down at Byleth with stern features.

“Professor… is that really… you?”

That question is quite popular, isn’t it? Byleth resisted the urge to make a witty remark and, once again, nodded silently. Compared to the relief that washed over the two other females, Ferdinand crossed his arms and tilted his head.

“I do not wish to be rude, but I cannot find myself to believe that you are Byleth.”

“Ferdinand! That is extremely rude of you to say that!” Dorothea scolded. “The Professor, whom we believed was dead, is finally here with us! Isn’t that a miracle?”

“I find it hard to trust in that miracle, Dorothea. Just look at our Professor here. Don’t you find something odd about her?”

“That she doesn’t have bright green hair? Please. Physical trait can’t--”

“Dorothea, please listen to me. I cannot shake off this feeling that--”

“The professor had simply lost her power with Sothis.”

Byleth felt the regal woman’s armored hands touch her arms. Then, without warning, she embraced the teal-haired. The professor had already gotten used to hugs from Edelgard when she was young, but this one felt different somehow.

Anxiety. Fear. Loneliness.

Byleth let out a shaky exhale.

“Is that why I can’t hear Sothis anymore?”

“...yes.”

How in Fodlan did this Edelgard know about Sothis? Had she spoken to her about it previously?

“Five years have passed, and we all thought you were gone.” Edelgard parted from the hug, yet kept her hold on the older woman’s arms. She raised her head and fixated her eyes on Byleth’s. “How long I’ve waited for this moment for you to return…”

“...”

There was that five-year gap. Perhaps there were things that Byleth hadn’t remembered. Her instincts were itching to dive deeper into the logistics of that theory. Something told her that she needed to really explore that possibility. There was also the exploration of this five-year jump. So much has changed, and so much information has been left out for Byleth. She must play the catch-up game with the members of Black Eagles.

Nevertheless, that could wait. The Edelgard that stood in front of her is older and is in dire need of comfort. Byleth pulled Edelgard into another hug. With one hand holding her head, the professor pressed her lips on the top of the emperor’s head. If there were a few things that didn’t change, one of them was Edelgard’s sensitive and childish nature.

“I’m sorry I was gone for a long time.”

“All that matters is that you have returned to us, my teacher.”

#loyalftutist #datsexykiwi #collaboration #fan fiction #fan fic #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #edeleth #f!byleth x edelgard #byleth #fire emblem f!byleth #edelgard #edelgard von hresvelg #scarlet carnation #prologue

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nitewrighter · 6 years ago

Note

Do you have any Mchanzo fluff? Love the way you write Nite,がんばり続ける❤💙

Thank you!!! I hardly ever get requests for them and I’ve been meaning to continue my “Hanzo on the Watchpoint” fics.

…I guess this is less “Fluff” and more of “Two Grown-ass dudes realize they have a lot in common in regards to their fucked up lifestyles and weird combinations of flightiness and devotion to their families.”

This fic takes place after Take 2 but before A Conversation.

—-

It was 2230 hours, and the Watchpoint was in the midst of shutting down for the night. The mess hall was cleaned up and locked up. The training grounds were dead silent. Bastion and Orisa were running their evening patrols, ever the vanguards with Omnics not needing sleep. Mercy was still hard at work in her lab, of course, with Genji hanging around and helping drain her coffee to make sure she made it to bed at a semi-human hour as he was wont to do. Sleep, however, was a precious resource on the watchpoint, and one the agents of the reformed Overwatch had to take advantage of when they had the chance, and they were more than happy to with the previous night’s interruption.

After a lengthy tour of the Watchpoint, Hanzo was relieved to see his sleeping arrangements weren’t in a cell like the night before, however his new arrangements he also found questionable.

Hanzo folded his arms, staring at the bed. “Is this really necessary?” he said, looking up from the bed.

“Somethin’ wrong with it?” said McCree, leaning against the wall next to the stairwell, “I mean you could ask Genji and the doc if you could crash on their couch–I’d love to see the Doc’s reaction to that.”

Hanzo remembered the coldness in Mercy’s eyes and the tautness of her voice from earlier that day and suppressed a shudder. “No, no I am willing to sleep down here.” He gave a skeptical glance to another bed in the opposite corner of the Watchpoint dormitories, the walls surrounding it plastered with newspaper clippings and a tattered ‘Six Gun Killer’ poster.

“’Fraid that bit’s non-negotiable,” said McCree, walking over to his own bed, “Me being your probationary agent all. Plus I’ve already been sleeping down here.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

“Watchpoint apartments didn’t feel right. Felt like I’d just trash the place on my own, to be honest,” said McCree with a shrug.

“Also minimalist. Easy to leave if you have to,” said Hanzo, glancing over at the few possessions McCree kept near the bed.

“Well y’know, if the Watchpoint itself ever gets compromised..” said McCree.

“You also positioned it so that you have a clear vision of the exits,” said Hanzo.

“Well that’s just common sense,” said McCree.

“…You’ve been on the run as well,” said Hanzo, looking over at McCree.

“I did mention the bounty on my head earlier, didn’t I?” said McCree.

Hanzo blinked. “To be honest, I had forgotten. I was just… noticing the signs,” said Hanzo.

“There go the backhanded compliments again,” said McCree folding his arm.

“You picked a dormitory where you were able to act the quickest when there was an infiltrator,” said Hanzo.

“Well you were the infiltrator,” muttered McCree.

“First to defend it, but easiest to leave it,” Hanzo said a bit mindlessly.

“Did I ask you for a psychoanalysis based on my sleeping situation?” said McCree, folding his arms.

“Should we not get to know each other if you’re going to be my ‘probationary agent?’” Hanzo arched an eyebrow.

“Well you could ask, like a normal person. Not play Sherlock Ass-Holmes.” McCree muttered under his breath before walking over to his own bed and taking off his hat and serape.

“You’re going to sleep already?” said Hanzo.

“Well as you recall, last night someone got everyone on the watchpoint up at three in the goddamn morning so he could attack two of our agents and yell at the rest of us like a nutjob. Orisa’s fine, by the way, thanks for asking.”

“The security drone?” said Hanzo.

“Her name is—Ugh,” McCree rubbed his forehead. “We’re all just background noise to you, ain’t we? You’re just here so you can stop kicking your own ass over Genji, and then you’re going to dip, and us, the people who care about Genji, the people Genji cares about, mean jack shit–That’s the deal, ain’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Hanzo’s voice was low.

“Well, figure it out before you hurt him again,” said McCree, taking off his shirt.

“I will try,” said Hanzo. McCree’s back was to him as he undid his belt, set the belt aside, and unceremoniously shuffled out of his pants. Hanzo noted the point on his arm where the metal of the prosthetic ended and the remains of his organic arm began. An image flashed in his mind of the bloody stump of Genji’s arm, the red stain eking across the tatami, the sound of Genji struggling to breathe echoed in his ears. Panic clawed at the interior of Hanzo’s chest. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here. Run. He had to run.

“Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer,” said McCree. Hanzo was suddenly thrust back to reality, his breath catching in his throat. McCree was standing in front of him in just a tank top and a pair of briefs and Hanzo immediately cast his eyes downward from the sheer whiplash of his mental image and the physical one before him.

“Sorry, I was just… thinking,” said Hanzo. He gestured at McCree’s arm. “How did that happen?”

McCree looked at his own prosthetic arm.

“It was during the disbandment,” he said with a shrug, “Pretty shortly after I ditched… I guess maybe a part of me was still assuming I’d have a team at my back when… I didn’t,” he brought his arm down, “But that was on me.”

“I’m sorry,” said Hanzo.

“Eh. I’m pretty used to it at this point,” said McCree.

McCree didn’t seem to want to go further into details than that, so Hanzo let the subject drop.

“Welp, better settle in for the night. I guess Winston and Jack’ll have a better idea for what you can do here tomorrow.” McCree slouched down onto his own bed and picked up a pair of reading glasses and a well-worn paperback, lighting a small lamp clipped to the headboard of his own bed and reading. Hanzo wasn’t sure if he was making a big show of reading out of politeness to give him some space to disrobe for bed, or if this was just part of his own nightly rituals, then again, Hanzo was becoming increasingly aware of how much of a disruption his own presence was. Hanzo had folded his own clothes and set them on the footlocker at the foot of his own bed when he glanced over to see McCree still reading.

Probationary agent, Hanzo realized, He can’t let himself fall asleep before me.

McCree’s eyes flicked up from the page of his book at Hanzo, made eye contact, then calmly flicked down again. A still-spiteful part of Hanzo considered staying up as late as he possibly could, wearing the cowboy out physically and mentally. in retribution for the beatings sustained from the night before, but as Hanzo sat down on the mattress and felt it sink slightly with his weight, that desperate survivalist part of him said, They won’t kill you. Not yet. Sleep while you can in case they change their minds later.” He also knew sleep would put more distance between him and the residual nausea from being sleep-darted the night before. Hanzo’s eyes warily flicked back at McCree again.

McCree licked a finger and turned a page and Hanzo laid down and pulled the sheets over himself. As soon as he was laying down, an exhaustion washed over him, his body leaping at the opportunity to make up for years and years of nights awake to the gray hours of dawn, kept going only by adrenaline, spite, and a desire for redemption. That same spite and stubbornness though, kept his eyes fixed on the cowboy, still reading his stupid little book, looking far older than he actually was with those reading glasses. He could stay up later than the cowboy. He knew he could. He could definitely, absolutely–

McCree glanced up from his book to see Hanzo had fallen asleep. McCree closed his book, took off his glasses, set both on the footlocker and turned off the lamp.

Maybe it was a blessing that the night terrors only really kicked in at 5 AM.

McCree woke up to muttering in Japanese, the sound of Hanzo talking jerked him awake, and it took a few seconds for the haze of sleepiness to lift slightly for McCree to realize Hanzo was still in bed. McCree slid out of bed, his bare feet padding across the cold concrete floor of the watchpoint dormitories over to where Hanzo slept. McCree took a knee next to Hanzo’s bed as Hanzo continued muttering and thrashing in his sleep. That grayish-blue dawn light was lighting up the stairwell, and in its dimness McCree could make out beads of sweat glistening on Hanzo’s forehead, shoulder, and at the dip of his collarbone. Hanzo was on the edge of hyperventilating, his eyes squeezed shut, his knuckles white with his sheets in a death grip. He muttered something in Japanese again and his breath suddenly quickened and he flinched and tossed and turned.

McCree took a deep breath.

“Han–” he started and Hanzo suddenly flinched awake hard and moved to strike him on pure reflex. McCree managed to catch his wrist in his prosthetic and there was a half-beat where Hanzo was moving to counter, still on reflex, when McCree spoke and Hanzo barely managed to stop himself, “Easy!” he held Hanzo’s wrist, “Easy…”

Hanzo was still breathing rapidly, his eyes flicked around the dormitory, and then flicked to McCree, and then flicked to his wrist caught in McCree’s hand.

“Are you gonna hit me if I let go?” said McCree.

“No–” Hanzo seemed to be getting his breath under control, “No–I–I’m sorry.”

McCree released his wrist. “Look, wherever the hell you were, you’re not there anymore,” he said, “You’re here now, you hear me? You’re here.”

Hanzo rolled his wrist, before looking back up at McCree.

“Do you need to talk about it?” asked McCree.

“I… not now,” said Hanzo.

“All right,” said McCree, getting up to his feet.

A long pause passed between them.

“Nothing to say?” said Hanzo.

“What can I say? I’ve been through that shit and it sucks. Genji went through that shit and it sucks. It’s hard to see anyone go through that shit. No matter how much of an asshole they are.”

“It’s a torment well-deserved,” said Hanzo, wiping some of the sweat off of his forehead with a frown.

“Oh for fuck’s–There’s no ‘deserve’ about this shit, Hanzo. Genji wants the two of you to try and put what’s left of your family back together, try and heal from all that Yakuza shit. If you’re just gonna lie down and take the shit your brain hands you, how’s that going to help anyone?”

Hanzo was quiet.

McCree huffed. “Look, we don’t need to go opening up cans of worms right away at…” he glanced over his shoulder at the clock, “…5 in the morning…” he sighed, “But my point is I don’t think you’re here so you can keep doing the… up-your-ass stoic thing you’ve been doing to stay alive the past…”

“Decade,” said Hanzo.

“Decade,” McCree repeated incredulously. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, half the watchpoint’s going to be up in an hour anyway, you want to sleep in more, or should I pick the lock on the mess hall and fix us some eggs?”

Hanzo’s stomach growled. Admittedly the aftereffects of the sleep dart had killed his appetite for most of the previous day, but the prospect of actual food was welcome at this time. And it might provide a bit of mental distance from the nightmares.

“I can fix my own breakfast,” said Hanzo, grabbing his folded clothes off of his footlocker.

“Yeah, but I fix the best breakfast,” said McCree.

“Is that a challenge?” said Hanzo, pulling his pants on.

“Genji did say you were competitive…” said McCree with a wry smirk, “It’s me being nice, asshole.”

“Yes, I could tell by the ‘asshole.’” said Hanzo.

“Come on,” McCree pulled on his own pants and shirt. “Let’s get some food. Winning omelette cook doesn’t have to do dishes?”

“I hope you enjoy doing dishes, cowboy,” said Hanzo, ascending the stairs after him.

#mchanzo #overwatch #gency mention

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lovelybuccky · 6 years ago

Text

Three Things That Are Certain (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Your mother once taught you that when you feel afraid, you should look at your surroundings and find at least three things that are certain, just three things that you know to be true. However, a collection of photos are found from different points in history, and you are in every single one. Questions are being raised, and you are finding it more and more difficult to name those three things. But he is there to remind you of what they are.

Warnings: Violence, profanity, graphic violence and descriptions of pain in later chapters.

A/N: Woohoo it’s back! I made this part a little longer just because I felt the others were too short...hope this is better! (Also I scheduled to post this at 3am UK time because apparently that’s the best time to post for other timezones??? I don’t know haha we’ll see if it works)

Previous Chapter

(^^ gif from here)

Previously...

“I woke up in the 1941, completely in control. I guess after all their tries they still couldn’t find a method strong enough. I wondered around, decided that there were worse places to end up. So I settled down and tried to make a life for myself, expecting to die of old age before Hydra could find me again. But I suppose the Stone doesn’t just effect the time around me, but also my internal clock, since I haven’t really aged since I woke up in Brooklyn in 1941. I’ve been on the run since, knowing Hydra would look for me eventually, since I never completed my mission.”

“Which was?”

You look at the ground, shame oozing out of you. You were dreading this moment. This is where everything shifts. You avoid all their curious gazes, holding off the inevitable.

“Y/N,” Steve’s voice spoke gently, but strongly too, “what was your mission?”

Your eyes flicker back to Bucky to find him already watching you, confusion etching his features. You fear his reaction the most, and you know that there is no chance that he could ever trust you, not anymore. There’s still so much you haven’t told him, so much that you both weren’t ready for him to know. But this is where things get complicated. You hold eye contact with him for as long as possible - until the very last second.

“I…was sent to kill Steve Rogers.”

***

You wake up shivering on the city ground, a crick in your neck and a splitting headache. Every bone in your body, even ones you didn’t realise you had in the first place, ache and click as you hoist yourself up off the cold concrete. You fall back against the stone wall, a small yelp escapes you as you wait for your head to stop spinning and for the black blotches in your vision to fade away. Panic washes over you as you take in your surroundings.

You’re standing in an ordinary alley amongst garbage, alone - but something feels off. You can’t put your finger on it, but you feel like your way out of your depth, like you were picked up and thrown into a world that you don’t understand and that doesn’t understand you. You try to think about what it could be, but concentrating only makes your headache spike. Deciding to scope out the area, and with one hand against the wall for stability, you hobble out of the alley and onto the street.

As soon as you are out in the open, you instantly notice that you don’t recognise anything. The brand of cars, the design of clothes, the shops - nothing is familiar, nothing like the New York you know. You carry on walking along the street, head up high, ignoring the pain that shoots through head as you do so. It’s quiet, almost tranquil - until you hear a crash.

Your hand reflexively darts for the gun in your holster, the holster that you don't even remember owning, and you inch past the movie theatre and towards the alley, leading you to the source of the sound.

But before you can look round the corner, a man with blood oozing out of his nose comes stumbling out onto the street, and you almost shoot him on sight out of pure shock. He doesn’t even notice you as he bolts from whatever or whoever gave him a bloody nose.

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched.”

Wait, you knew that voice.

You peer round the corner, and the sight makes bile creep up your throat.

James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers.

Without thinking, you instantly aim your gun between the latter’s eyes. You have no idea why you did, it was like your body overtook your mind and started working on its own accord. Sweat trickles down your face and you start to shake uncontrollably, messing up your aim.

You stay like that, watching them. Half of your brain is saying “shoot”, and the other half is shouting “don’t you dare”. It hurts in a way that you’ve never hurt before, this mental game of tug of war.

“You know, it’s illegal to lie on your enlistment form.”

Enlistment form. Soldiers. War. World War? There were two…World War II? 1940s? America versus….wait, America? Sergeant…no, Captain…Captain America…

And that’s when it comes flooding back.

The years locked in a cell, the training, the green liquid - and your mission. The reason why you’re here. Whatever they used to control you wasn’t strong enough and has worn off - and that means you have a choice.

You lower the gun, and you run; heart pounding in your chest and legs burning with every slam of your foot against concrete. You have no destination, the only plan is run until you feel safe.

You never stop running.

***

Once again, to nobody’s surprise, Bucky Barnes can’t sleep. Despite his heavy eyelids and his even heavier muscles, his mind is racing at a million miles a minute, replaying scenes of the night before.

After a small disagreement and a few words of reassurance from Steve, Tony had finally agreed to allow you to stay at the compound until it was certain that you were safe, and that you had provided them with as much information as possible.Tony wasn't entirely convinced, and you didn't seem to be either, to be honest, but Steve insisted on it. “Innocent until proven guilty”, he said.

“Seems pretty damn guilty to me.” Tony snapped back, “She literally just said her mission was to assassinate you, doesn’t that seem a little guilty to you, Rogers?”

“Am I dead?” Steve said calmly. Silence. “Exactly. If she was guilty, then I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you right now and we wouldn’t be having this argument in the first place. Give the kid a break, she’s had a hard enough time as it is.”

And now he’s here, hours later and honestly? He’s torn.

This is a risky bet. Steve’s life is literally on the line. If it was anyone else, he would have kicked them out of there the second “to kill Steve Rogers” passed their lips. He had beaten up punks who had threatened his best friend before, and he could do it again. But this is different, Steve is now more than capable of defending himself, and she is different. He couldn’t hurt her, not even if he wanted to. She knew him when he was the Winter Soldier, she knows a part of him that nobody else even saw, and he knew her too, apparently. That connected them, he can feel it; even if he can't remember her because his brain is too damn broken, he can feel that they are somehow intertwined - and that, for now, was enough for him. But that still didn’t stop alarm bells ringing in his mind.

He closes his eyes and lies there for a little longer.

…Fuck it.

He gives in, forcing himself out of the warm embrace of his bed and throws on his gym clothes. Sure, it was 3am, but he found that an hour or so of hitting a punch bag usually helps him let to let off steam. Or at least focus his mind on something else until his body is forced to sleep.

He makes his way to the compound gym, not thinking about being quiet. Years of stealth training made sneaking around like second nature to him, and besides, he had the floor to himself.

Well, nearly to himself.

He had requested it actually, not because he wanted more privacy - though that was an added bonus - but because he didn't want to keep the others awake when his nightmares inevitably cut through the silence. It only isolates him more from the others, but they deserve to rest well, and they can’t do that unless he is out of the way.

But that means that there are spare rooms (the only spare rooms) on his floor - the top floor. So now he is sharing it, and he is sharing it with you.

He stops by your door, listening in to make sure he hadn't woken you.Yes, his trust in you was debatable, but he wasn’t going to be a jerk about it. When he hears nothing but silence from behind the closed door, he carries on on his way.

It’s all a bit silly though, isn’t it. First they rescue a girl from an organisation that they thought they had destroyed years ago, then they find out she can time travel, and then they discover that she was actually meant to assassinate America’s golden boy and Bucky’s right-hand man. It sounds like something he would read in a book. A fictional book.

He hates that he doesn’t trust her, and he hates that there’s nothing he can do about it.

As he reaches the entrance to the gym, he hears muffled thuds and grunts coming from inside. Peering through the glass door, his eyebrows shoot to the roof at the sight before him.

It’s you, in some spare gym clothes and drenched in sweat. A few wisps of hair stick to your face, and your eyes are fixed on the punch bag in front of you. One foot forward, turned slightly inward; one foot back, turned slightly outward. You're on the balls of your feet, bouncing lightly and soaring from position to position. One fist stays in front as one guards your face, though they switch roles with every punch you throw. The perfect stance.

Bucky wonders how you learnt to fight, and his heart aches when we realises you probably had to teach yourself. Probably from trial and error.

You’re striking the punching bag like your life depends on it, and if he looks hard enough, he can see faint purple circles under you eyes - you’re obviously were having a similar night to him. But he is mesmerised by your concentration, it’s like you’re dancing. Your eyes are trained on the bag, but there’s a softness in them, an innocence in the way they glisten. Sixteen. You were sixteen years old when you were forced to defend your life, and that makes Bucky’s blood boil.

Normally, he would turn away and wait until the gym was empty. He doesn’t want to be a dick and avoid people, he actually wants to become closer with his teammates (to get to a point where he called them friends rather than teammates), but he just doesn’t feel like he can. Solitude was the easiest and safest option.

However, this time he stays. Maybe it’s the way your eyebrow are furrowed, or how your arms are shaking from probably hours of punching, but something tells him that you shouldn’t be alone; that you could benefit from some company. It’s a thought that surprises him, but doesn’t stop him.

As soon as he pushes the door open, your focus snaps to him. He puts his arms up in surrender, an attempt to calm your shock. There’s a beat, then he clears his throat. “May I?” he asks, nodding in the direction of the punching bag next to you.

You square up, in an attempt to compose yourself after how embarrassingly obvious it was that his mere presence alarmed you. “Be my guest.”

He moves past you to the punching bag and gets to work. You watch him for a moment, admiring the force with which he can hit, and not failing to notice the way the muscles on his back move under his slightly too tight t-shirt. You feel your cheeks start to burn at the thought, and immediately turn back to your punching bag.

You both carry on like that in silence, only the sound of flesh meeting leather filling the room. After what you said last night, you don’t know where you stand with Bucky, but it feels nice that he’s there and you aren’t alone.

Not entirely, anyway.

***

1945

You curse under your breath as you search for your house key on your keychain. Why do you have so many damn keys? You’re a factory worker, not a fucking locksmith. Finally finding the right key, you jam it in and voila, you’re inside. Once you close the door behind you, you proceed to re-lock it - one key lock; three bolts, one for the top, middle and bottom of the door; 2 night latches; and one chain lock for good measure. It was a little excessive, but better safe than sorry. You throw your bag onto the kitchen table and shake your heels off, hanging your coat up on the brass hook by the door.

The walls of your house are covered with framed photographs, newspaper clippings and postcards; anything to make it feel more homely. It’s small, only two rooms, a bathroom and a tiny deck at the front of the house - which provides the perfect spot for reading. It isn’t much, but it’s enough for you.

You practically slide over to your turntable and select your favourite album. Your mood is instantly lifted when jazz fills the room, and you sway your hips to the beat as you dance towards the kitchen. It’s been a long time since someone has taken you dancing, you think to yourself.

You laugh at yourself as you bump into the counter, itching to make yourself a cup of coffee. The day had dragged at work, but a trip to your favourite bookshop and a quick conversation with the sweet old lady next door had cleared your mind.

So much so, in fact, that you forgot the date.

You continue to skid and slide across the wooden floor as the music plays, your own laughter filling the air of the otherwise empty house. You had somewhat gotten used to your new life. It had only been a couple of years and yes, it still hurt like a bitch, but you were finding yourself in more moments like this - laughing, dancing, adjusting. Your life depends on you being a chameleon, you are just lucky that you used to adore studying the 1940s in history class. After a few minutes you finally settle down and sip on your coffee, looking out onto the street.

There are two little girls playing hopscotch, pigtails bouncing with every jump. There’s another little girl, offering her chocolate bar to a boy who had scraped his knee, and one young mother - sat on the steps of her house, clutching her baby as silent tears escape her eyes.

That last one isn’t an uncommon sight. Everyday, some poor woman receives a telegram, and it is rarely good news. Your heart clenches and you grip your cup a little tighter. That kind of pain is unbearable, not only losing someone whom you have given a huge portion of your heart to, but to lose them in the way she has, and leaving behind a future they could only dream of. You imagine that’s how your parents felt when you disappeared with no goodbye, no final “I love you”.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you make a mental note to visit the woman sometime next week. Maybe just this one time you can come out of hiding to help someone.

The longer you watch, the more you realise that everyone in the world has someone by their side. One little girl has the other to re-braid her when when it comes loose, the little boy has the girl to watch over him and lift him up when he falls, and the mother and child have each other - to love each other when they know he isn't coming back.

But you were in this on your own, like a lone wolf in a forest full of packs. That’s how it has to be, you can't afford to have someone else around. You don't know if or when Hydra will find you and snatch you away from the life you've built. You can’t do that to another human being, have them rely on you and then leave them in the dust, a thousand promises broken.

You feel loneliness start to creep in again with open arms, but you know that if you went to it, it would never return your embrace, but laugh at you for thinking it would.

Distraction. You need a distraction. A thought pops to mind: you haven't read the newspaper yet. Granted, it wasn’t the best distraction you could think of, since it was rarely happy news that inked the page. But it kept you in the know, and that was enough to give you a sense of control, and therefore, a sense of security.

You grab the newspaper and make your way to the sofa, but you stop in your tracks as you read the headline.

‘HOWLING COMMANDO JAMES B. BARNES KILLED IN FREIGHT CAR ACCIDENT’

Something in your gut sinks and tears prickle your eyes as you read and re-read the headline over and over, refusing to submit to reality.

The words scream at you, begging for your attention and acknowledgment, like an alarm clock or a screaming child. Your vision lags and your legs buckle, bringing you to the floor. You hunch over the paper, sobs racking through your body.

This is where it begins. You know what he’s going to go through, what they’re going to do to him. Your nails dig into your palm as tears stream down your face. You wish it was you instead.

Loneliness watches on from the doorway.

***

Bucky saunters into the kitchen, everyone is starting to wake up but it’s only been a few hours since he was with you in the gym. You left not long after he arrived, claiming that you needed to sleep before the further tests and questionings that would take place later that day. He assumes that’s where you are now.

The only other person in the kitchen is Steve, who’s pouring himself a glass of orange juice after his morning run, “Rough night?”

Bucky usually joins Steve on his morning runs, unless he doesn’t sleep well the night before. Which, to be honest, was quite often these days. Bucky nods before plonking himself onto a breakfast stool, and starts to twirl a pen that he found on the counter in his hands.

Steve sets down his drink and leans against the counter, face-to-face with Bucky, “What’s going on, Buck?”

He shakes his head dismissively, but he can feel Steve watching him like a hawk. There’s no way Bucky can lie to him, so he gives in, “I just don’t understand.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. Bucky continues, “I don’t understand how you’re so calm in a situation like this. She was sent to kill you, Steve. I know we can’t just throw her out or get rid of her, but don’t you think we should be more cautious? How do you have so much trust in her after what she told us?”

Steve merely laughs and shakes his head, amused by his obliviousness, “Because of what she told us,” he replied smoothly.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him, still not getting it. Steve moved round the counter and placed himself on the stool next to Bucky, leaning his elbows on the marble surface, “A young and helpless person captured by Hydra, brainwashed and tortured into becoming a murder machine. Now where have I heard that before?”

Bucky sets the pen back down on the counter and finally looks at Steve, “This is different.”

“How?”

“It just is.”

“No, it’s not,” Steve says sternly yet affectionately, “Buck, you gotta have more faith. You can’t keep living on ‘what ifs’ and tip-toeing around everything. Here is someone who understands what you went through, and who you understand. That connects you, why do you feel the need to cut the rope?” He pauses, “Are you sure you’re wary of her just because of what her mission was?”

Bucky hesitates, before fixing his attention back on the pen, “She said she knew me when I was…him.”

“Then you also share a past, and that’s something only you two have. She’s the only one who was there when you went through that. Not me, not anyone else - just her. You have a choice, you’re allowed to have connections with people, you know. You don’t have to be alone.”

“I have you.”

“Yeah, but you could have more.”

Bucky remains silent, he can feel Steve’s eyes on him but refuses to admit that he is right.

Steve finally gets up and heads towards the door, turning around at the last moment, “Just talk to her, punk. If not for your sake, for hers. You may have me in this world, but she doesn't appear to have anybody.”

And then he’s gone, and Bucky is on his own again. He knows Steve is right, of course he is.

Bucky grabs his keys and heads towards your room.

***

Next Chapter // Masterlist

A/N: Any feedback is greatly appreciated <3

Tags:

@letsthedogpackandthecats

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 5 years ago

Text

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 34: The Sports Festival Part 7: Round Three—FIGHT!

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

“Yay, she’s waking up!”

Katsumi’s eyes sprung open and she found herself staring into the wide-eyed face of a little blond five year old. Her younger brother, Tai. Instantly, he threw his arms around her and squeezed her tight.

Slowly, she put her arms around him. “Easy there, Squirt,” she said. “I still kind of feel like I got run over by a train.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his arms away. “Sorry, Big Sister! But I was so worried about you! Papa and Daddy were too!”

“He’s right,” a voice from the foot of the bed said. Katsumi looked past Tai to see Dad and Papa standing there, Papa looking visibly relieved and even Dad looking slightly more relaxed.

“You have us quite the scare, Kid,” Dad said. “I had to keep your papa here from rushing the stage.”

Papa turned nearly as red as his hair. “So I got a little worried! I’m allowed! It’s my right as a parent!”

“It’s your right to be a dumb…butt,” Dad said, quickly correcting his last word, since he was in front of Tai.

It was only then that Katsumi realized she was in the infirmary. It all came back to her in a rush, the fight, the numerous chunks of ice she’d taken to the head. She was certainly never going to underestimate Izzy like that ever again.

Wait.

“Izzy!” she shrieked, making Tai jump in surprise. And she was probably lucky it didn’t make him explode. His Quirk to explode himself and reform was on something of a hair-trigger. Dad was teaching him to control it, but accidents still happened. “Is she…?”

“She’s fine,” Dad said. “IcyHot just texted me before you woke up. Just exhausted herself. You two smacked each other around pretty good.”

Papa crossed his arms over his chest. “You gave us quite a shock, young lady,” he said, attempting to look stern and failing at it, like he always did. “Almost throwing in the towel like that! What were you thinking?”

Katsumi looked down for a moment. “Yeah, well, just needed a few things pounded into my head, I guess.”

“Speaking of pounding your head, don’t worry,” Dad said. “Eri already fixed your nose and wound back some of your other injuries. You’ll be scrapping again in no time.”

“Such a Manly display!” Papa added, his hands in the air in a cheer. “Both of you, giving it all your fighting spirit!”

Dad gave him a punch in the arm, getting a yelp out of Papa. “Settle down, you.” He shook his head. “But I am proud of you, Kid. You made the fight decision, fighting. Still, now I owe IcyHot ¥5000. So that’s your next several allowances.” Only the twitching of his lips betrayed that he was probably kidding about that last part.

“You made a bet on our daughter!?” Papa shrieked, placing a hand over his heart. “Bakubabe, how could you?”

“Relax,” Dad said. “IcyHot didn’t technically agree to it anyway…”

“I’m sorry you lost, Big Sister,” Tai said, looking so forlorn and sad about it that it took everything Katsumi had not to laugh.

Dad came up behind him and bent down so he was at eye level with Tai. “Hey, what’d we talk about, champ?”

“That Big Sister tried her best and gave it her all! And that she’ll try even harder next time! And then she’ll win!”

“Right!” Dad said. “So no frowning, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Do I get a say in this?” Katsumi asked.

As one, Dad and Tai both said, “No!”

So she hadn’t won. Hadn’t even cracked the top eight finalists. Top sixteen, sure. But not nearly as good as she’d have liked. Dad had come in the top three all three of his years at U.A. Papa had done better than that too. Maybe she wasn’t as good as she thought she was?

No, she couldn’t go down that line of thought. She’d been ready to throw in the towel without even trying and come out of that pit motivated to fight as hard as she could. One blow different, maybe one or two different moves, maybe she’d have been the one coming up on top. The important thing was that she’d done the Wo-Manly thing and fought to the very end. That was what she had to keep in mind.

“They gonna let me out of here to go see the rest of the show?” she asked. “I wanna see more of the girl that kicked Monoma’s… butt.” Right. Gotta watch the language around Tai. “Plus Izzy. Did the math. Whoever won was gonna get to kick the Newb around the ring for a while. Sorry it ain’t me. I’d say she’d go soft on him, but she sure as heck didn’t on me…”

Papa nodded. “Eri said you were good to go when you woke up.”

“But you are supposed to take it easy the next couple days,” Dad added, his tone of voice suggesting he didn’t believe she would. “Which is why Tai’s going to be on guard duty.”

Tai drew himself up to his full height, proudly. “I’ll be the best bodyguard ever!”

Katsumi reached over and tussled his hair. “Sure you will, Squirt.”

***

It had taken them a bit to clear the rubble and ice that Katsumi and Izumi’s fight had created, with FireFox melting away the ice and Power Loader and a couple Support Class students clearing away the rubble. So by the time Toshi stepped into the ring, it was practically fresh.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the sounds of the crowd. As the son of the Number One Hero, he’d been in the public eye since he was a baby. Before he was born, really. It was easy enough to tune it out. And he was definitely going to need his wits about him for the fight ahead. He wasn’t bothered by fighting his girlfriend from a relationship-damaging point of view. No, he was worried about it because his girlfriend was a) crazy brilliant, b) crazy fast, and c) crazy unpredictable. It made it very hard to figure out what Sora was going to do next under normal circumstances, let alone in a fight.

“And now, it’s another Class 1-A showdown!” Present Mic announced. “Toshinori Midoriya and Sora Iida! One a master of gravity, the other an aerial ace! Will this battle be won in the skies or down on the ground? Only one way to find out!”

“Just tell me someone has All Might accounted for.”

That was a bit unfair, Toshi thought. Grandpa Might hadn’t tried spying on him a few weeks now. That he knew of, anyway.

Hawkeye looked back and forth between him and Sora. “Remember the flight ceiling rule,” she told both of them. “We’ve got cameras and range-finders set up to catch anything. Other than that… FIGHT!”

“My apologies, Toshi, but this victory will be mine!” Sora shouted, before launching herself at him like a missile, the Jetpack pipes on her back firing.

Toshi knew he only had a couple of seconds to act and brought his own gravity down to almost nothing, leaping over Sora just before she impacted with him. “Don’t be so sure about that!” he said, as he turned in midair, landing facing the other direction, as she executed a tight turn to keep herself from going out of the ring.

Sora came at him again. He couldn’t help to match her speed flat out, but so long as he acted in time, he could keep out of her reach. Each time he forced her to turn around, he gained a few precious seconds to think and formulate his own strategy. He leapt over her again, steadying himself for the next go round.

She was racing for him again, her Jetpack still firing strong. Toshi wasn’t sure what Sora’s limits were, didn’t know how long she could keep this up. But he’d seen her fly for long stretches before during training and they hadn’t even hit that amount of time yet. It made just outlasting her a dicey proposition at best and foolish at worst.

This time, when he jumped, he twisted in mid-air again, not to adjust his landing, but to give him a chance to grab her. His hand snapped out, grabbing her ankle. Of course, he was still near-weightless at the time, so he was dragged along as she kept flying.

“Be careful,” Sora said, executing a tighter turn than before. “I would hate to see you go flying!”

Instead of a straight path, she jerked back and forth, zigzagging to try and dislodge him. Toshi had to close his eyes to keep from throwing up. He didn’t have Mom’s problems with nausea, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t just flat out get motion sickness.

Concentrating, he increased his gravity to three times its normal amount, his feet making cracks in the ground as they impacted with it. Still holding on to Sora, he fought against her pull as she increased the power to her Jetpack, to the point where he had to increase his gravity more and dig in his heels… and even then, he was slowly starting to be dragged across the ring, digging great gouges in the concrete!

So he did the only logical thing. He let go.

Sora shot forward like a rocket, no longer impeded by his increased gravity. At the last second before she would have gone out of the ring, tilted sharply upward, flying up into the air, before circling around to come at him again. This time, Toshi tried to meet her head on. He brought his gravity back down to nearly nothing, took several steps back, and then, with a running start, jumped into the air. Unaffected by gravity’s pull, it was like being fired out of a canon. Seconds before impacted with Sora, he increased his gravity, turning himself into a human canon ball.

POW!

He slammed into his girlfriend with considerable force, causing her to cry out, nearly knocking him from the air. Toshi bounced off, falling back to the ground, and springing back up again. This time, she was faster, striking him hard enough to make him fall. He recovered in time to bounce back up again, this time hitting Sora hard enough to make her fall. As he drifted back to the ground, she righted herself, flying back at him and clipping him with her right wing as she went by.

And so it went, blow after blow, each of them nearly falling flat but recovering to strike at the other. But on his last bounce, rather than trying to strike her, Toshi grabbed on, heavily increasing his gravity.

Entangled with Toshi, her Jetpack flared, trying to support both their weights, then faltered, sending them both falling towards the ground. “I am really sorry about this, okay?” he said. “But we said no regrets!” Perhaps just a bit reluctantly, he let Sora go and decreased his own gravity again, floating down.

Sora stopped herself though, her Jetpack Quirk firing in one quick burst before she hit the ground. She landed awkwardly, but was on her feet quickly, ready by the time Toshi’s feet hit the ground.

“That,” she said, “could have hurt! But I am willing to forgive you!” Still on foot, she raced towards him and then activated her Quirk.

He wasn’t expecting it. Sora’s Quirk was primarily flight-based; he hadn’t even thought of her activating it on the ground. But with it accelerating her body and his own gravity at normal, it added enough power to his punch to snap his head around and have him seeing stars.

Again and again, Sora struck him, punches given extra rocket-propulsion by her Quirk. If she wasn’t using it to punch the stuffing out of him, he’d have been impressed by her ingenuity. He just needed to get his head on straight for a second, so he could use his.

And…there. Sora’s punches were slowing down; she must have been overheating her Jetpack after that much use. It gave Toshi the moment he needed, amplifying his gravity several times over. Sora’s next blow struck home, but bolstered by his enhanced gravity, he barely felt it. Surprise rose on her face and she pulled her hand back, clutching her knuckles with her other hand.

There. This was his moment. Toshi struck out with a right handed blow, a Smash-worthy punch that would have done Grandpa Might proud. He hit Sora dead on, spinning her around like a top, until she fell to the ground unconscious.

…He really hoped she’d been serious about the “no regrets” thing.

“Iida is unable to continue!” Hawkeye announced. “Midoriya wins!”

“Talk about your high-speed fights!” Present Mic cheered. “I hope they got that on the slow-motion replay, because that was a rush!”

“At least this one isn’t breaking any bones.”

***

“Absolutely not,” Mother said. Worry marred her features, and Izumi could see that she had been crying. “You nearly collapsed during the Obstacle Course, had to be helped off the Quirkball field, and then you did collapse fighting Katsumi. We can’t allow you to keep up this kind of pace.”

Izumi frowned, uncertain of how to respond, the silence broken only by the slight deep of the monitoring machines Doctor Izumi had hooked her up to. It was true, she had pushed herself to her limits during the Festival so far, perhaps even a bit beyond them. But was the school motto not “Plus Ultra”? Still, it had felt good, giving her all, using her abilities to their fullest, even as her body had ached and she had felt exhaustion working its way into her every cell. So much heat had passed through her body; if not for her regulator rig, she very likely would have burned up, maybe even taken someone with her. But she had pushed through it and fought. And won. Against Katsumi, one of the fiercest fighters in their class.

Her cheek still stung where Katsumi had punched her and she imagined she had a rather nasty bruise forming, perhaps even a black eye. That, in and of itself, was a victory. She dearly loved her friend, but she could not have allowed Katsumi to simply throw her chance away like that. It would have eaten away at her, little by little, poisoning her mind. Nor, she realized, could she have thrived under such conditions herself. Katsumi cared for her, protected her, but now understood that she could stand on her own as well. She only wished she had realized earlier just how deeply her friend’s feelings towards her went. Even with Katsumi’s confession and their conversation, it had obviously not been as settled as she thought.

“I shall manage, Mother,” she said. “There is time enough to rest before my next match.”

“Is that really what you want, Izumi?” Father asked. He did not wear his emotions on his sleeve like Mother did, but for someone as familiar with him as she was, they were quite clear. He was worried about her too, both her physical health and her mental health. The scars, both figurative and literal, of his own upbringing ran deep. He worried constantly about her limits and pushing her too hard; they had her grandfather to blame for that. “You don’t have to prove anything. Not to us, not to anyone.”

“Except to myself,” she said. “I may or may not have the strength to continue the Tournament, but I will not know unless I try.”

“I’m not letting you endanger your health for some point of pride,” Mother said, firmly. “There’ll be other chances, next year, or…”

“No!” Izumi snapped. “I want to do this. I need to do this! I have to know if I can!”

“You’ve got to think about your future, about your health! You’re just like your father, full of stubborn pride!”

Mother was acting just like Katsumi. Trying to protect her, look out for her. But she had left the nest. She was her to learn to be her best. And she could not do that if everywhere kept treating her like she would break if left to her own devices or allowed to actually push herself the way others were.

“I am thinking about my future! How do you think anyone will look upon a future Hero who had to withdraw because she was ‘tired’?”

“Izumi!” Mother snapped, ready to unleash another tirade.

“I think we should let her,” Father said, before either of them could bombard the other with another argument.

Mother shot him an angry glare. “Shoto, how can you even suggest she…”

Father shook his head. “Were you listening, Momo? To what she told Katsumi?”

Mother crossed her arms. “Of course I did! She stood up for herself! Told Katsumi to take her seriously and not shelter her! And…”

Her mother trailed off for a moment, then her eyes went wide and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “And I’m doing the same thing… aren’t I?”

Father crossed the room and put Mother’s shoulders. “You are. You always have. I’m guilty of it too. We both know why. I understand it. But we have to let her be try. You and I both know about too many regrets and what if’s.”

There was something more being unsaid here, Izumi thought. Something she wasn’t being told. But she could pursue that line of questioning another day. For now, her heart beat rapidly in her chest; the possibility that she might actually get to continue was so very close.

Mother frowned. “I… You’re right. Of course, you are. I worry…” She looked at Izumi again. “We both worry about you, Izumi. Always. After how we nearly lost you… It nearly killed me to see you fighting like that out there.”

Perhaps this wasn’t going her way after all.

“But,” Mother went on, “I suppose I am just going to have to get used to it. I’ll worry no less when you become a Hero yourself.”

Her parents separated, each taking up a spot on either side of her bed. “I can’t promise I won’t be a nervous wreck,” Mother said, “but you have my permission to keep fighting.”

“Mine too,” Father said. And then he smiled. “We’re proud of you, you know. And I can lord your victory over Bakugo for weeks.”

***

“And now we come to the last fight of the first round! Asuka Tokoyami versus Kana Tetsutetsu! The familiar fighter against the steel-fisted striker! Can Tokoyami’s Frog-Shadow pierce Tetsutetsu’s guard, or will Tetsutetsu’s Iron Fist triumph over the floating, fighting frog? Let’s find out!”

“Hn. At least I can count on these two to be sensible in their fight.”

“Are you ready?” Asuka said out loud.

Let me at her, Boss! I’ll go full amphibian on her!

Frog-Shadow, it seemed, was as excitable as always. But her other half had demonstrated remarkable synchronicity with her during the other two events, so Asuka was actually confident that Frog-Shadow would fall in line as best she could for this fight.

Her opponent was no joke. Kana Tetsutetsu was a good friend of both Kirishima-Bakugo and Toshi, as well as Mineta and Koda, so she was hardly a stranger to Class 1-A. Asuka herself had been getting to know her during Student Council meetings. And while her Quirk of transforming her arms into metal was a relatively simple one, she backed it up with martial skill that more than made up for the simplicity of her Quirk.

“Ready?” Hawkeye asked, and when they both nodded, the teacher took a step back, out of the ring. “Fight!”

Tetsutetsu gave her a small bow. “May the best woman win,” she said.

Asuka returned the bow in kind. “May the best woman win,” she agreed.

And thus the fight began. “Frog-Shadow… go!” Asuka shouted, summoning her familiar. Frog-Shadow erupted from her midsection, a glowing-green frog-shaped figure of light even in the afternoon sun.

“Face my wrath!” Frog-Shadow shouted, flying towards Tetsutetsu like a spear.

Tetsutetsu wasn’t backing down though, instead, she converted both her arms to shining metal and brought them up in an X in front of her face. Her “Ultimate Guard” technique, Asuka believed it was called. Frog-Shadow impacted with a shower of green sparks, but bounced off, looping back around.

But Tetsutestsu didn’t waste any time waiting for Frog-Shadow’s next attack, racing forward. She crossed the distance between the two of them with remarkable speed, putting Asuka immediately on the defensive as she dodged blows from her steely fists. She had to protect her head. It was a large enough target and one blow from one of Tetsutetsu’s metal fists was probably all it would take to knock her down.

“Frog-Shadow, to me!” Quickly, the recalled Frog-Shadow and the world went green.

“Oh, you done it now,” Frog-Shadow said, settling over her like a suit of armor. “We’re breaking out the combo-moves!”

Tetsutetsu just laughed. “Good! I like a challenge!” She took a step back and launched a kick towards them, connecting hard. Frog-Shadow’s armor held, but there was still surprising force behind the blow.

“Off!”

The blow knocked Asuka back, even with Frog-Shadow protecting her. Curse her for a fool, she’d been so focused on Tetsutetsu’s Quirk that she hadn’t been thinking she would fight with anything else. It was not a mistake she’d be making again.

Tetsutetsu struck out again, this time with a metal arm. But Asuka got her guard up, blocking it with her left arm and delivering her own Frog-Shadow enhanced blow with her right. She struck Tetsutetsu hard in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her and buying a few seconds of space and time.

Asuka pressed her attack, sending Frog-Shadow out again to attack. Her familiar shot out, her “tether” wrapping around Tetsutetsu several times, finally ending up behind her, pinning her arms to her side.

“Ha! We’ve got you now!” Frog-Shadow taunted.

Tetsutetsu simply grinned. “Maybe.” Her arms suddenly shifted back to flesh, shrinking just enough that Frog-Shadow was not so tightly wrapped around her. “Maybe not!”

Both of her arms shot up, slamming into Frog-Shadow’s face. The light-being let out a cry of pain and retreated, snapping back to Asuka. She winced too, gritting her teeth. Frog-Shadow’s pain wasn’t exactly her pain… but the two of them were still deeply linked.

“She tricked me! She tricked me! No fair!”

“Quit complaining and fight!” Asuka shouted.

Frog-Shadow shot out again and again, each time blocked by Tetutetsu’s guard. Neither of them was gaining much around and the reverse held true when Tetsutetsu found space to press her attack. Asuka would recall Frog-Shadow like armor, blocking until she could strike and drive her back. Their Quirks were very, very different, but provided both of them with enough attack and defense that neither could find space past the other.

This continued for several minutes and even though most of the blows had not impacted upon her directly, Asuka was beginning to tire. But so, it seemed, was Tetsutetsu. She’d taken several steps back in an attempt to buy herself a few moments.

“We gonna go for this, Boss?” Frog-Shadow asked.

Despite something telling her there was more to this than met the eye, Asuka knew they couldn’t endure many more assaults. If this was to be ended, it had to be now. “Do it,” she breathed.

“FROGGY….PUNCH!” Frog-Shadow shot out again, hands raised and ready to rain down blows on Tetsutetsu.

Tetsutetsu brought her metal hands up… just right to catch the sun. Light reflected off them like a mirror, right into Frog-Shadow’s eyes. “What the heck?!” Frog-Shadow cried out, trying to shield her eyes.

Asuka tried to recall her, but before she could, Tetsutetsu’s arm snapped out, grabbing the tether that connected her to Frog-Shadow. She gave a powerful yank and Asuka found herself lifted off her feet, flying towards Tetsutetsu. The last thing she remembered seeing before all she could see were stars was a metal fist heading towards her face.

“Tokoyami is unable to continue!” she head Hawkeye shout. “Tetsutetsu wins!”

“Now that’s what I call a knock-out fight! That finishes up the first seed of the Tournament, folks! We’ll be back for the second seed in just a moment, with more hot U.A. action!”

“Is that enough time for a coffee, Mic?”

“Sure it… Ooooh no, you’re not escaping that easy, Eraser!”

#my hero academia #their hero academia #fan fic #fan fiction #my writing #toshi midoriya #izumi todoroki #katsumi kirishima-bakugo #asuka tokoyami #sora iida #momo yaoyorozu #shoto todoroki #katsuki bakugo #eijiro kirishima

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canyousevmyheavydirtysoul · 6 years ago

Text

Bodyguard II: Familial Ties (Part II - Chapter 8) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

Thor sat in a chair with his hands cuffed behind him, staring forward blankly. At the other end of the holding cell, Agent Coulson.

And you.

“It’s not easy to do what you did,” Coulson said after a moment. “You made us all look like a bunch of mall cops. That’s hurtful.”

The agent received no response from the angsty god, just lingering silence as Thor maintained a perfectly blank expression. He saw it pointless – to try and converse with others. In his mind, he had failed, in every sense of the word; he was unworthy.

Even the presence of you was not enough to shake him from his depressive trance, despite his desire to connect with you; he saw no point in trying, because he felt as if he had failed you, too.

“The men you so easily subdued are highly-trained professionals, and in my experience, it takes someone who’s received similar training to do what you did to them,” Coulson continued taking a few small steps forward, “Would you like to tell me where you received your training?”

Thor sat silently.

Coulson, desperate for some kind of answer from the god, pressed on. “Pakistan? Chechnya? Afghanistan?” A pause. “Then again, you strike me more as the soldier of fortune type. What was it, South Africa?”

Still no answer. With unwavering determination, Coulson leaned in close to Thor and spoke quietly.

“Certain groups pay well for a good mercenary. Especially Hydra.” He waited for a reply but yet again, didn’t get one. “Who are you?”

The agent knew full well who the man in front of him was. There was no doubt about it. His closeness to The Director allowed him access to top-level information, such as the existence of Asgard. His question to Thor was merely a means to find out the god’s intentions.

After a long moment, Thor stopped staring blankly at the concrete wall, and shifted his gaze to you. You locked eye contact with him and the disappointment in his eyes was unmistakable, and so intense that you were forced to look away.

Then, with a slight shake of his head, Thor spoke for the first time since being placed in the holding cell.

“Just a man.”

You breathed out shakily, catching Coulson’s eye for a second before the agent regained distance from the god and started for the door. Just before he exited the room, he tossed one last bit of information at your cousin.

“One way or another, we will find out what we want to know. We’re good at that.”

Coulson left the room and after another brief glance at you, Thor lowered his head. You stood still, wanting to say something but having no idea what to say. You couldn’t exactly comfort him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, because truthfully, you had absolutely no clue what exactly was transpiring.

Before you could pull yourself together and formulate a proper sentence to say to him, a smooth voice emanated from the corner of the room, startling you back into complete silence.

“I thought he’d never leave.”

Thor looked up immediately, seemingly as shocked as you by the sudden appearance of a third person in the room.

“Loki?” he asked in disbelief, staring wide-eyed at his brother, who was clad in 21st century attire, much like himself. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.” You caught Loki’s eye, then, and he looked you up and down with a small smirk. “Skadi,” he spoke, slowly and clearly, acknowledging you for the first time.

You cleared your throat and folded your arms over your chest protectively. “(Y/N),” you corrected.

The God of Mischief’s eyebrows raised in surprise, as his lips pursed slightly. He didn’t get the chance to offer a response, since his brother – who it appeared had found his spirit again – exclaimed loudly.

“What’s happened? Tell me!” Thor hollered, straining against the chair holding him down. “Is it Jotunheim? Let me explain to father-“

“Father is dead.”

Thor stared at him, stunned. “What?” he whispered, feeling as if he had just been made the butt of a twisted joke.

“Your banishment, the threat of a new war…” Loki explained, “it was too much for him to bear.”

The implications of Loki’s words dawned on Thor – he was responsible for his father’s fate. Him. It was all his fault.

Noticing his brother’s current state of self-loathing, Loki spoke up again. “You mustn’t blame yourself. I know that you loved him. I tried to tell him so, but he wouldn’t listen.” Loki held his tongue for a brief moment, and then continued. “It was cruel to put the hammer within your reach, knowing you could never lift it.”

Thor once again stared ahead, falling deeper into the abyss of self-despair, as his brother sighed softly.

“The burden of the throne has fallen to me now.”

The God of Thunder whipped his head around, looking at Loki hopefully. With Odin gone, that meant Thor’s banishment could be lifted. “Can I come home?” he asked.

Loki shook his head. “The truce with Jotunheim is conditional upon your exile.”

“But couldn’t we find a way to-“

“Mother has forbidden your return,” Loki shut his brother down with those five awful words, and Thor nodded, lowering his head in defeat. “This is goodbye, brother. I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Thor muttered. “Loki… thank you for coming here.”

“Nothing could have stopped me.”

You stood at the other end of the room all the while, observing the brothers and listening intently to their conversation. Something about it all bothered you, but you couldn’t place your finger on what exactly it was.

It came to you a second later, however, when Loki glanced over at you and you caught a glint of mischievousness in his eyes. It was so subtle and quick that it almost escaped your notice, but if there was one thing that spending time around Brendon taught you to do, it was to pick up on all subtleties surrounding physical cues.

Loki observed you for a moment more, as if analysing you. It put you off, but before you could call him out on it, Coulson entered the room; he took no notice of Loki.

“Farewell, brother,” the raven-haired god spoke, looking from his brother to you. He spoke to you, then – barely a whisper, just loud enough for you to catch. “I hope to see you again, Skadi. Soon.”

“Goodbye,” Thor greeted, much to the confusion of Coulson, who looked at the god in perplexity.

You and Thor watched as Loki disappeared.

“Goodbye? I just got back.” Brushing it off, the agent stepped forward. “Now. Where did we leave off?”

The door opened, this time revealing Agent Sitwell, who entered the room and requested a sidebar with Coulson. Straining your ears, you managed to overhear what was being said.

“Sir… he’s got a visitor.”

With a sigh, Coulson looked to Thor, then to you, and with a short nod, turned to leave yet again.

When it was only you and Thor left in the cell, you pushed yourself off of the wall you’d been leaning against all this time. Crossing your arms over your chest just as you did earlier, you cocked an eyebrow and made a show of looking around the room.

“That it? We alone now? You not expecting any other Norse deities to come down for a visit?” you queried, sarcasm dripping from your tongue.

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” he stated simply, matching your attitude. “And are you expecting anymore of your fellow ‘agents’ to barge in through the door?”

“This is our facility; not yours,” you countered quickly, “Every move we make is warranted.”

Thor chuckled quietly. “Is stealing the work of another warranted, too?” he retorted; you knew that he was referring to the raid of Jane’s lab, “Or is that simply something you chose to do in your spare time?”

“Why are you here, Thor?” you ignored his backhanded jab, instead getting right to the point. “You’ve never deemed it necessary to come down to Earth before; why the sudden visit?”

Thor went silent for a moment, memories of him being cast out flooding his head. “I was banished by Odin. Were you not present during my conversation with my brother?” he sassed.

“Oh, I heard it,” you nodded, biting on your bottom lip before shrugging, “But I’m not sure if I believe it.”

Thor scoffed. “You believe my trip here to be of my own willingness? What business would I have on Midgard?”

“You tell me.”

Narrowing his eyes a miniscule amount, Thor’s lips parted as he looked at you. Your body language was standoffish, and it immediately resonated that you did not trust him.

“You think me to be a threat?” he questioned. “That I have come to wage war on this realm? With its people?”

You held up both hands and pursed your lips. “Your words, not mine. All I’m saying is that Asgard has never shown any interest in Earth before, so why now?”

A small spark of anger was ignited within the god, manifesting itself in a frown and a clenched jaw. “Be mindful of your accusations. Asgard wishes not to wage any kind of war, especially not with Midgard.”

“So, why, Thor? Why here? Out of all of the realms, why would Odin banish you here?”

That was the question Thor had been asking himself ever since he woke up in this realm, and now, as he looked at you, realisation finally dawned on him. With a newly enlightened expression, Thor held your gaze intensely.

“Because of you.”

Slowly, your forehead began to crease, and you scoffed softly. “What-“

Doctor Erik Selvig burst through the door, followed closely by a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, and rushed over to Thor.

“Donny, Donny, Donny!” he exclaimed in exasperation. “There you are!”

Thor looked up, unsure of what the hell was going on, as the agent untied his restraints. Selvig pulled the god to his feet, enveloping him in a warm hug.

“It’s going to be alright, my friend,” he assured, “Come on, I’m taking you home.”

Turning, he led the bewildered Thor out of the door. The god turned his head, surveying the room for sight of you, but you had disappeared.

You appeared a minute later in the control room, stomping your way towards Coulson with a panicked look. Gesturing wildly to the door, you demanded answers.

“What the hell was that? You're gonna let him walk? I wasn’t finished-”

“Director’s orders,” he stated simply, forcing you to shut up. “But don’t worry, we’ll keep a close eye on him.”

You watched as the agent walked out, heading for the main entrance to the base. A few minutes later, you did the same.

“So will I.”

✧ ✧ ✧

A few hours later. Jane’s lab.

Walking out from the shadows, you treaded towards the small building, paying careful attention not to make too much noise as you walked over the gravel.

When you were close enough, you called out to Thor. “You two look cute together,” you remarked softly.

Thor startled a bit, having not expected your arrival, and swiftly glanced down at Jane, who was nuzzled into his chest, sound asleep.

“I don’t suppose you came all the way out here to inform me of that fact,�� he responded, keeping his voice as low as he could as he gently untangled himself from Jane.

Nervously chewing on your lip, you shook your head and shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “No. Can we talk? Or… ya know, finish our talk?”

“Depends. Will you be making any more false accusations?”

Sighing, you dug your heels into the gravelly ground. “Yeah. Sorry about that. In my defence, though,” you paused and pointed to yourself, “major trust issues.”

Thor hummed softly before leaping down from the roof, landing on his feet not too far from you. He walked forward until you were only a few steps away from each other.

“And you’ve now come here and decided to trust me because…”

“Last year, when I activated my powers, I-,” you breathed, closing your eyes for a brief moment, “I saw my dad. He told me something, then – something that I’d forgotten about, until now.”

“What did he say?”

“You have people out there who care about you. You have family. And you will learn just as well from them as you would from me,” you quoted your father. Judging from the look on Thor’s face when you’d finished, the words held meaning to him, too.

“And considering you told me that I’m the reason you’re here…” you continued, referring to the god’s earlier words, “I’m guessing that this was kinda meant to happen.”

“Yes,” Thor agreed with a slow nod, “I believe so.”

There was an awkward silence that followed, as the two of you stood under the moonlight, thinking over everything that had happened over the last little while.

You were the first one to break it.

“I’m scared.”

Your admission caught Thor off guard, and he looked at you in bewilderment. “I would never hurt you-“

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head to indicate that that was not what you had meant, “I’m scared of my powers. What I can do with them. I’m scared that I’ll lose control; that I’ll hurt people. I have hurt people,” your voice dropped to barely a whisper during the last sentence. “There was an accident a couple weeks back – I destroyed the entire coastline of a city… all because I lost control. And I’ve gotten better since then, I have, but there’s still a part of me that’s afraid that it’ll happen again, and worse. I hate feeling like that.”

“It’s tough,” Thor said, “And I cannot imagine what it must be like to be the only one down here with abilities like you and I. On Asgard it's simpler; there’s no such fear that would plague you.” The god drew in a deep breath and reached out to squeeze your shoulder in reassurance. “While I cannot make your fear go away, I can teach you how to better manage your abilities… and I do believe that that’s the reason I’m here.”

You smiled at him thankfully, but then scoffed when you realised that time was not on your side. “And how long would that take?”

“Mm.” Thoughtfully, Thor glanced up at the sky, asking you a question. “How many hours until sunrise?”

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you pressed the home button to bring up the clock. “Just under five. Why?”

“All we need is three.”

You couldn't help but laugh at that. “Three? You’re giving me much more credit than I deserve, cousin. I’m a mess. Pretty sure it’s gonna take a hell of a lot longer than three hours to get me in check.”

“You’ve such little faith in me?” he cocked his head and smiled teasingly.

“No,” you scoffed, “I’ve such little faith in myself.”

“Do not,” he said, gesturing for you to follow him as he led the way into the dessert. “After all – you are a goddess.”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

Taglist:

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Note: Yeah, I was gonna write the training scene for this, but nah.

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storyunrelated · 6 years ago

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Growing pains - Henry

I’m feeling oddly pent-up today and so I figured, hey, why not finish off a bit of this that’s kind of violent and upset?

So yes. Here we have a chap with superpowers - strength, in this instance - losing a bit of control and going a little bit unhappy. That’s kind of the schtick in this story, and the concern of people who don’t have superpowers.

What follows him going unhappy is a violent response. I’m not much good at writing the violence, I think.

Maybe you can have an opinion on that, hmm?

---

Henry glared.

These people weren’t better than him. Objectively speaking, he was better than them!

Could they leap tall buildings? Could they throw cars around? Could they bend steel beams with their bare hands? Could they break bricks with their forehead - should that be a thing they felt like they wanted to do?

No! No they could not!

But he could! He could easily! It came naturally to him!

Came naturally but was cruelly suppressed. Those drugs they made him take. The ones that kept him as weak as they were, as vulnerable. The ones that made him need to wear that bag to catch his piss and the ones which made his hands shake and made him wake up at night sweating and panting and not knowing why.

The drugs he’d stopped taking maybe a fortnight ago. A month? Week? Today? Hard to say. Difficult to keep track. Didn’t matter though. Not important.

He didn’t really know why he’d started hiding his daily dose instead of taking it. The first time - he told himself - it had been an accident. Meaning to take it, he’d dropped it instead. His hands had been shaking, hadn’t they? Like they always did. From there, every further drop and spill or act of forgetting had seemed less and less important.

And as they’d seemed less and less important, Henry’s whole worldview had got that much clearer.

At first the world had seemed rosier. With his abilities - presenting themselves more and more day by day, as the negatives began to faded - he started to imagine how he and those like him could make the world a better place. And why not? The world had problems, and here he was with an ability to help solve some of them. Strength had so many uses if one had the wit to apply it properly, so why not? Wouldn’t they be grateful? Wouldn’t everyone be happier?

This mode of thinking did not last long. After all, if people were liable to be happy and grateful with the help of those blessed with powers such as Henry and others like him, why would he have ever needed those drugs in the first place? No, the people would not be grateful. They’d want him locked up and dosed up and docile and trudging along just like them. They wanted him hidden away, out of sight, so they wouldn’t have to worry about him.

They’d have killed him, he was sure. Strangled him in the crib or else put him in a sack and tossed him in the river, like a kitten. They just didn’t have the guts. And this way they could point and laugh, they could be happy knowing that they had brought low someone who had the potential for so much greater things than they could ever achieve.

Vermin. Filth.

Why should he have had to be the one to hide? To keep himself in the shade? Keep a low profile? Him! Mighty as he was! A cut above these mundane people! Worlds apart! Superior in every way! Objectively better! An improved example! A paragon!

That was why they’d made him take those drugs. Not fear of his abilities - though that was likely part of it, and they had right to be afraid of such a perfect organism! - but rather jealousy and bitterness! To point and laugh! To crow!

They all wanted what he had, these mundanes! And because they couldn’t have it they didn’t want him to enjoy it! If they couldn’t drag themselves up to his level they’d pull him down to theirs! Make him as pathetic and weak as they were!

Well he’d show them. He’d show them they were right to be afraid!

“Excuse me, are you alright?” Someone asked and Henry was brought back to the moment with a bump. He felt disorientated, a little confused. Someone had laid a hand on his arm. He looked down at it. His skin crawled.

One of them was touching him. Was touching him.

The vermin was touching him. Him. Him!

How dare they! HOW DARE THEY!

He lashed out with a foot and the mewling, stinking little shit went away, far away. Their mewling stopped on impact and everything went quiet. Easy! So easy. It just came naturally.

Then, the panic started. Screaming started. Running around, away from him. Away from him?! Scared now? Not so easy to point and laugh now, is it? I’m onto you, filth! I know your games! I know your tricks! I’m smarter than you! Stronger! Better! I’M BETtER THAN YOU!

Henry, seeing red, lunged over and ripped a bollard from the street as easily as a lesser being might pluck a flower, hurling it - and the chunk of concrete and tarmac still clinging to its base - at the wailing crowd. How many died? Not enough!

“Is this what you wanted? You wretches! Run! I know you want this! Your jealousy is transparent! You all wish you were me! Vermin!”

They didn’t answer of course, the cowards. They were too busy running. But Henry could see the truth of it in their faces. Their twisted, disgusted faces. So bovine in contenance! Cattle! How had he ever even considered them human? Ever even thought they might be anywhere near to himself?

Henry threw more stuff. He tossed benches through windows and cars through windows and cars through buildings and busses and at anyone who was too slow in running away. It was so easy! The world broke around him, as it should. A filthy world made by the pathetic scum who had sought to deny him what was his by natural right.

See what he could do? What he was capable of? Your world breaks so easily! A flimsy world for flimsy little things. Not for Henry!

Henry would build a better world. He’d tear this one down brick by brick! Stomp it flat! Grind it to dust! Build a better world on top. A stronger world.

He might even let the better and best of the scum and vermin live in it. Those he felt had a chance of improvement. Those that knew how to express their gratitude for his largesse and kindness.

Or else kill them. So many.

Was this his blood? No, no, couldn’t be…

A noise caught Henry’s attention, piercing the red haze that had wrapped around his head. A chopping sound? A whumph-whumph-whumph of air. And wind? Something recognisable. He looked up.

Saw a helicopter.

It was a lot heftier than your run-of-the-mill helicopter, not that Henry was an expert. It hung in the air, hefty, and seemed to regard him with scorn. Even their creations hated him, now!

He was about to throw something at the machine to make it go away when the underside of it split open and it dropped something. Something large that fell to earth with alarming speed, only stopping from smashing into the street by the last-minute burst of some jets.

Henry recognised what it was. An exosuit! Of the kind they sent out to deal with the crazy ones! What was it doing here?

Of course! Jealousy! The pilot was plainly jealous of Henry’s evident might. Well, he would receive a very personal demonstration! Henry was sure the rat hiding inside that suit would be very grateful, albeit not for long.

Rising from the braced posture it had dropped in the exosuit stood and Henry saw little bits of it shifting and adjusting, plates correcting their positioning and pistons sliding against one another. The thing looked big. Very big. Like it should have been a piece of the infrastructure and not something that actually moved around.

“You have two options,” said the human inside the exosuit, voice coming out harsh and barking. “Turn yourself in peacefully, or else I make you peaceful and turn in what’s left of you. I get paid either way, so it’s up to you.”

Henry experienced a moment of doubt. The exosuit was bigger by far than him once it had fully unfolded, broader and at least two heads taller. Every angle of the thing had been designed to look intimidating, on top of being brutally functional for its intended purpose of beating reluctant super persons to a pulp.

What really gave Henry pause though was the name he could see plainly stencilled on the front of the thing. Vandal. He felt he could recognise that name from somewhere but his head was too fuzzy to properly remember where.

Then the doubt melted and the absolute, rock-solid confidence came flooding back and the name of the human stopped mattering. So did the size difference. So did everything. Who cared about any of that? All that mattered was that this human dared speak to him like that. Him! A superior specimen!

Who cared what his name was? Who cared who he was? He was nothing! A mundane in a wrapper! Vermin! Pathetic! Henry would peel it open and pull him out screaming! He’d pull him out screaming and pull him apart, screaming! That’d show him! Show them all! They’d see! They’d all see!

He’d show them how pathetic it was to go up against a paragon of evolutionary might in something so paltry as a fancy suit! What could a machine do to him? To him?!

“I’ll take your silence and big, shit-eating grin as a rejection of coming peacefully. Works for me.”

The exosuit moved quickly. Very quickly. Far quicker than anything so big had any right to move. The tarmac buckled and tore beneath its clawed feet as it launched forward towards him like a thundering train, a fist pulled back to strike.

Henry braced himself, ready to take the blow on the chin. That’d show them. That’d show them! Their fiercest blows would be as nothing to him! He’d show them!

A mistake, as it transpired, for the exosuit had considerably more bulk and mass than Henry was and also had pneumatic rams, which Henry also did not have and had been unaware of.

There was a hissing snap and a flash of white and a rushing of air and a crash and Henry found himself embedded in a brick wall some distance down the street. He could not remember how he got there. He also had a headache that he hadn’t had some moments before.

“What-” he managed to say before the exosuit followed up and crashed bodily into him, demolishing the wall completely and carrying Henry on through the next one, too, ripping through bricks and concrete and rebar as though they were so many breadsticks and biscuits for cheese.

The exosuit came to a sudden and jarring halt, digging its clawed feet into the floor of whatever large, empty room they’d arrived in and Henry - who had been pinned in place by momentum alone - went flopping forwards, rolling to a wheezing halt. He tried to rise but his hand slipped and he cracked his face on metal grating.

“Fortunately, this building is abandoned. Lucky us, eh?” Vandal said, grabbing a woozy Henry by the ankle. “Allyoop,” he then said, smashing Henry up into the ceiling. He did this until the ceiling broke and collapsed, bringing the whole floor down on top of both of them. The exosuit barely rocked. Henry heard ribs crack and yelped.

By this point Henry did not feel particularly superior to anyone. He wanted to go home. He whimpered when a gauntlet took him by the back of the head and he wriggled vainly as the exosuit started walking him face-first through more walls, carrying on until they’d come out the other side of the building into another empty street.

“I think that place needed knocking down anyway. See? Already you’re giving back to society! It’s not hard, is it?” Vandal asked, tossing Henry up in the air to spin him around so they were facing and catching him by the throat.

Henry was having difficulty seeing with all the blood in his eyes.

“Please,” he croaked, smacking his palms wetly against the exosuit’s gauntlet. His hands were covered in blood, too.

“Hmm? You’ll have to speak up there, I can’t hear you,” Vandal said, cupping his free hand to the side of his helmet before dropping Henry who landed in a heap on the tarmac.

The fallen superhuman experienced a split-second spike of rage that boiled up from nowhere and pierced right through his pain and terror. How dare he be manhandled so! This mundane had humiliated him! Vermin! Filth!

But more fool him! He’d let his guard down now! He’d dropped Henry! Henry wouldn’t miss the opportunity! He’d show him!

Snarling he leapt up onto his feet and swung a fist, aiming at the exosuit’s belly, seeing it less covered in plating than the rest and figuring that it might be more vulnerable as a result. As good a place to start his revenge as any.

Another mistake. Vandal moved with lazy ease caught Henry’s fist and twisted his arm, casually. Not that big of a deal. Rather like wafting aside a cloud of midges, only with more torn ligaments.

Whatever insane confidence had driven Henry seconds before abandoned him completely. Snot dribbled down his face, mixing with the blood. He squealed.

“I’ll come peacefully! I’ll come peacefully!” Henry pleaded, battering uselessly against the arm of the suit, his fingers scrabbling to try and find a point to pry loose but failing.

He could hear the bones in his hand snapping, the weight of the exosuit forcing him down onto his knees. He hadn’t noticed when he’d started crying, but he had, tears working their way out through rapidly-crusting blood on his cheeks.

“Someone feeling a little less than invulnerable?” Vandal asked, continuing to exert more and more pressure on Henry’s trapped first, bones cracking and popping, grinding and splintering. Henry squealed, flopping backwards onto his arse in the hopes of gaining even an inch of wiggle-room and relief. It didn’t really work.

“Yes! Yes! I’m sorry! I’ll come peacefully!”

Vandal shook his head and clucked his tongue.

“No, we passed that point, remember? That was before, when I offered you the choice. That’s not now. Now is different. Now is the hard way. Just procedure. You understand,” he said, hoisting Henry up by his mangled arm. Henry, whimpering, dangled like a decoration on the end of some knotted string.

Vandal pulled back his other arm as he spoke and lifted, guard plate sliding back and letting the two blunt prongs of the volt driver move into place. Henry’s watery eyes widened. Even through the blood and tears and bruising he could see this, and even with his ears ringing he could hear the snap of it activating.

“No-!”

#Growing pains #Amwriting #writblr #Writeblr #Writing

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thepilotanon · 6 years ago

Text

Prelude xvi

...for the better {masterlist}

I’ve been busy, but I’m super excited for you all to rad this chapter c: There’s going to be a lot of, hopefully, good and surprising things for you to enjoy! It’s a bit different in perspective, but was still fun to write. I would really love to hear from you guys, if you have time, but I hope you will enjoy all the same. Thank you for reading!

warning: intended violence.

The feeling of the Supremacy’s chilly air were only felt on her cheekbones, her knuckles and ankles, yet she didn’t seem to mind it as much while every other inch of her body was still concealed with the numerous layers of thick cloth. Following the red armored Praetorian Guards swiftly, the upper tilt of her head as she walked with her own self confidence that wasn’t always found in many individuals aboard the ship. Her boots skid a few times on the marbled floor, in attempt to keep up with them, all while taking in their silent thoughts as near empty of a cleaned holochip.

Her curiosity of their thoughts and emotions were visible, yet she didn’t voice it or tried to pry deeper once they made it to the door. The hissing noise and whirrs of the mechanics working smoothly to present the throne room was true to its beholder, being escorted in by the two who marched forward, perfectly in synch with one another, as trained. Looking ahead, she could see the colossal creature sitting in his throne and garb, as if he never went to sleep. To her, she figured he never did, imagining him sitting there, pondering and planning…

Once the two Praetorian Guards came to the end of the aisle, they separated and joined their comrades behind the throne. Standing at the very edge of the walkway, she slowed to a halt and and looked up to meet his sharp gaze. Expressionless. Unreadable to the point of a haze flowers throughout the room, yet nowhere intending to break the connection of Master and his apprentice. Nothing but merely staring at each other in silence.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Supreme Leader Snoke eased back to his seat, eyeing her attire completely and severing the gaze for her to blink once.

“Nova,” Snoke spoke, his voice starting out gruff, until, slowly, a grin spread on his shriveled mouth. “My child.”

“Snoke,” Nova responded, as her usual self at his presence.

“Tell me,” the Supreme Leader went on casually, “of what you thought of Starkiller Base. Tell me from your point of view.”

Nova’s eyes looked up above his throne, her lips twitch in what appeared to be a sort of thoughtless search of words that came up with no feeling. “It was always cold,” she began. “It snowed a lot, and I was inside for the most part; the stormtroopers and officers were fairly strong, but there were things they didn’t know. They took the lessons well, and often praised me quite honestly of helping them improve.”

“Did you enjoy Starkiller Base?”

Her eyes snapping back to meet his stare, Nova blinked slowly once more. “I appreciated the people who were patient with me, and the experience of the planet’s weather. However, it was only the surface of the Starkiller Base that I enjoyed...nothing underneath the snow and concrete were anything but appealing.”

“You don’t say, my sweet Nova,” Snoke responded, his smile twitch at one corner of his mouth. “Tell me why you say so, little one.”

She didn’t hesitate. “When the poison caused me to hallucinate, I felt everything that has been built into the mines. What the purpose of the Kyber crystals are for, and all they know is just what they’re being used for. Nothing but terror, violence, death and sadness - it reminded me too much of Bavva III.”

Her expression suddenly coming to the surface, a defined frown settled on her lips and her eyes narrowed to an unamused scowl. “Frankly, I didn’t see anything successful coming from what you aim to achieve for the galaxy with the Starkiller Base, Snoke.”

Snoke’s lips twitched once more, faltering in their false friendliness for a few short seconds. Nova tilt her chin up a little bit more, her body relaxed. “I can see it now. Starkiller Base will not work the way you wish.”

“Of the time I’ve taken you under my guidance, you’ve gained so much knowledge of the Force,” Snoke complimented through his teeth, standing up in his throne. “However, you forget who is the Master and who is the apprentice. There is still much for you to learn, to understand, in that empty little head of yours.”

“Wouldn’t it be the same for you? A Master can only succeed in mastering one thing at a time, and continue on to learn throughout,” she mentioned. “This goes for the whole definition of Master; whether you’re teaching a student, obtaining knowledge to become something greater...or even owning people’s lives over their heads like livestock.”

It was then that Nova’s eyes sparked with amusement, and a playful smile emerged on her face with her hands clasped together in front as she expressed her honest curiosity. “I often wonder, how much do you wish to know and have power over, for someone who claims to Supreme Leader. Exactly, what is so supreme of you that allows you to lead?”

Snoke snapped, striking his hand across the air to send an electric wave directed towards her. Nova, unmoving, took a calm breath as the electricity dispersed before it made a foot close to her, causing the humanoid to shout for the Elite Praetorian Guards to take a stance, surrounding the two, armed and ready. Nova’s gaze didn’t leave Snoke as he growled with stress and irritation, shouting at the red armored beings to strike, watching them activate their weapons and take one single step towards the woman -

Only for all eight of them to freeze, rigid and strained painfully with their own bodies.

Icy blue, hollowed eyes widened with shock as Snoke watched each of his Elites struggle with their own bodies, all while Nova stood in her spot, unmoving. Reacting quickly, Snoke outstretched a single limb in attempt to get a hold of the ill-looking woman only for any sort of action to remain impossible at Nova took a single step forward with a natural grace towards him.

“You remember, Snoke, that I do not like it when people try to harm me - more so try to kill me out of spite or bad temper,” Nova said to him. “Your guards, although Elites and ones familiar with the Force, were under my tutelage, by your request. Spending time with them for so long, it’s not difficult to hold them back from getting them killed by your choice.”

Before Snoke could retort, Nova offered him a soft smile. “As you have told me, Snoke, that the Force is what’s keeping me alive and powerful, and that I would become stronger with time.”

Lowering his hand, Snoke tense shoulders slowly ceased their stiffness and he carefully sat down once more upon his throne. Long fingers coming to rest on each panel of the chair, the Supreme Leader sat back and relaxed in his seat. Looking over the much smaller woman, Snoke whole body relaxed as he cackled a quiet, dry laugh. Eventually, the humanoid began laughing rather joyously in his throne, echoing the throne room to the point that the Force holding the Elites released. Each red armored being clamored to keep themselves upright, slowly returning to their original spot, evenly distributed behind the throne of the laughing leader.

Once the Supreme Leader eased in his unpleasant cackle, he grinned towards Nova with a rather pleasant expression. Tilting her head a bit, Nova watched him for a moment with her facial expression returning to its usual mutual state of nothing once more.

“I take it that you wish to kill me now, hm?” Snoke drawled. “Destroy me for having those toxic poisons injected into you? To see if I really could make you more of a mindless puppet and perfect killing machine?”

“I don’t need to kill you,” Nova responded. “Your future was shown to me, and there is nothing I need to do to make you pay for what you did to me.”

“Amazing, seeing the future of someone without direct contact,” Snoke praised cheekily, almost as a taunt. “What did you see?”

Looking to each Elite’s faceless mask carefully, she sensed each one of their heartbeats and thrumming emotion of neutral respect towards her. “As I have said, I don’t need to kill you. Things will not go the way you expect.”

Snoke let out a quiet chortle, shaking his head with absolute amusement as her simple answers. “How kind of you to warn me, but I still see nothing inside that little mind of yours, my dear little Nova,” he said. “As the experiment failed in using old tactics against you to comply more...to my needs, I won’t hold any grudge against you for showing such power from Mara’s reports...you will see it my way, in due time, little one. Soon, you will do more than just train people to survive, and want to take part in having the First Order become reign of the galaxy. And you, with time, can be a part of a new Empire with your marvelous power. People will bow to you, allow you to be in control of them this time around.”

Nova let him rave for as long as he wanted, until he eventually went quiet for her to respond with a simple and confident: “No, I don’t want that.”

“Then, what do you want?” Snoke asked.

“Nothing,” Nova answered, her hands dropping to her sides. “There is nothing that I want that is already provided to me permanently, with or without your power over others, Snoke.”

Snoke’s posture went lax and his expression ceased amusement. He wasn’t threatening any longer, nor held bad blood towards his female apprentice, instead seeming to grow tired of this one-on-one meeting. However, Nova knew better…

He was losing this conversation battle with her.

“Because you’re irreplaceable to me and a rather valuable apprentice - possibly more than Kylo Ren - I will allow this to lead a mutual respect between us, little one,” Snoke spoke after a while. “You will remain my apprentice and train others to be powerful, and I will ensure you remain alive and cared for within the First Order… Someday, you will learn the importance of your part within the First Order, young Nova.”

“As a free woman,” Nova pressed with a raised brow.

“As a free woman,” Snoke agreed. “You are proving to be more powerful and talented than expected, consider this to be a lesson for us both.”

Nova remained silent.

“You are dismissed.”

Nova finished tying the knot of her pajama pants, fiddling with the hem of the silk material before reaching for the towel to wring out her hair of access water. Having been escorted by limping Praetorian Guards back to the familiar small hallway of her quarters next to Kylo’s, Nova proceeded to enter her own personal chambers and use the refresher to scrub the faint smells of Starkiller Base and the throne room off her skin. As much as she did enjoy meeting the people in Starkiller Base, teaching them habits to protect themselves and see the Elites doing well, but the remaining stench of all she was displeased with was still bugging her underneath her whole facade. She was happy to find all the bottle of soaps and shampoos were still where she left them, just like Kylo promised her before their departure. She was happy to find her collection still arranged accordingly on her shelves, too, feeling more and more relaxed and comfortable in her environment. Kylo wasn’t back from wherever he was, yet sensed him through the Force.

She wasn’t too sure how to explain her meeting with Snoke to him.

Nova knew everything Snoke was looking for within her and Kylo, easily seen as something physically placed in her own hands. She wasn’t sure how to explain it, but every time she felt Snoke prying somewhere close to her or Kylo, she would just “push” him away from the both of them. With herself, Nova had no issue for Snoke to assume what he desired to see: empty, rather stubborn to the point of pushing boundaries of patience, yet bursting with an energy that wasn’t easily seen by many - the Force, that’s all she knows. With Kylo, however, Snoke looks for so much more than Nova would expect.

Emotions, weakness. Memories, thoughts beyond what Snoke thought was acceptable. A source of light within him that Nova couldn’t truly understand why was such a negative thing to Snoke…

Frowning, Nova looked down to her hands.

With the wall, as Kylo called it, Nova wasn’t too sure if she contained a sort of light that Snoke despised so much. Nova didn’t see any different in light wherever she went, or whoever she looked to; she only figured right away if she liked someone or not by their first impression, but that was as easy for anyone. She could tell who was a slave and who wasn’t back on Bavva III, even the finely dressed ones who would be fake escorts for their owners - fed well to get softer bellies, groomed properly to look healthier - not as many jewelry as the other, still too quiet to converse so freely in crowds. She didn’t see any stormtrooper, knight, guard or even Phasma glow with light, yet she got along with them for their own certain kindness. Unless it was the light catching off on the armor, but that couldn’t be it.

But Kylo was something special to her, but he didn’t have a glow of this light that Snoke hates, did he?

Perhaps it was something she had yet to learn, or to see in a text in one of Kylo’s scrolls or books. To Nova, there was nothing wrong with light. There was comfort and warmth with it, in comparison to dark that sometimes haunted her dreams to the cold cells back on Bavva III. Light was the sun that let her explore safely with the nocturnal predators slipping away for her to search for food, to warm her skin when she shivered all night with lack of proper clothing or blankets to trap heat.

Sure, light meant fire, and fire lead to destruction and burns - Nova doesn’t like burns, because it caused pain. Sometimes, too much light blinded her from seeing properly, but, other than those things, she didn’t think the light was all that terrible.

The constant snapping of the Supreme Leader towards Kylo bugged Nova, often worrying her of how Kylo would feel afterwards when he remained with his helmet on to conceal everything. She hoped that all she could do with kissing his forehead and cheeks would help him ease the tension she felt emitting from him. For her, she loved Kylo enough to want him to be happy as often as possible, ensure him that everything will be okay for him and that she wouldn’t let anyone take her away from him.

Blinking, Nova raised her head as she felt Kylo’s presence shifting, expanding - no, growing closer to their quarter chambers. Hanging the towel back over the railing of the shower, she left the room with her silk pajama set and damp hair to stroll barefoot to the lounging area of her chambers, knowing that Kylo would most likely want to see her before going to his own quarters to clean himself or ask to sleep. Through her own exploration, she sensed a spark of anxiety from him as he was hurrying towards her way, making her smile a bit as his own habit for her.

‘Remember your promise, Kylo!’ she chided him softly, hoping that he could hear her this time through all the walls. When she didn’t get a response, she figured it did not work until her blastdoor hissed open rather strongly. She realized that Kylo had used his own abilities to open it and march in, helmet, cloak and all.

Nova’s head tilt at him when he froze and stared at her. She blinked with a small frown as his leather gloved hands reached up to unlatch the helmet, igniting a release of air before removing it and dropping it carelessly to the floor. Nova opened her mouth to say something about the scratch on the metal rim of the visor, yet Kylo approached her and grasped her face with both hands…

And pressed his mouth against her own, hard.

Lips moving between languid to frantic within moments of the kiss, Kylo eventually stilled at the realization that Nova was completely frozen in place. Pulling back from the kiss, still holding her face with both hands tangled with the damp strands of her hair, his eyes wide with his own shock of his actions.

Nova blinked a few times, her expression twisting with slight confusion as she met his stare. There was a long, awkward silence, Kylo feeling himself becoming more flustered and irritated with himself for pushing himself onto her without warning or permission. Nova, however, only reached up to hold his wrists, keeping his hands in place of holding her head so carefully when he tried to let go. His large hands remained still in her hold before she pulled them back to cradle her jaw, carefully cradling her jaw.

He watched her move the muscles of her own mouth, her cheeks twitching and biting her own lips with a concentrated look in her eyes. It was like she was trying to figure it out for herself, as amusing as it was to see. Blinking once more, she looked up to him, feet rolling to make her inch up just a little bit to his tall stature.

“Again,” she whispered cautiously, hesitant and shy. “Please..?”

He searched her eyes for something - anything to tell him that he shouldn’t step over the line, thumbs brushing against her cheeks with the most careful stroke. When she only leaned her face into his palm, looking up to him expectantly, Kylo exhaled softly, almost in relief, as he leaned in once more, slower this time.

Soft. Softer than anything either one of them felt against their lips and feeling soothing in a way that made them both feel their own heartbeats hammering in their chests and blood flowing through their veins. Nova felt her face grow warm, going to her toes to try and deepen the kiss a little bit more, her hold on his wrist tightening with a sort of joy when she felt him respond immediately. Slipping a hand from her hold to press his palm against her back, Kylo bent further to ease her troubles as he pulled back from the kiss, her bottom lip gently sucked between his plushed ones, only for a moment before tilting her head back and connecting their mouths again with a breath.

For her, it felt like an eternity of peace, and she could only pout softly once Kylo registered her lack of air and pulled away carefully to look her in the eye. Feeling bashful, she instantly looked at the random stitch on his uniform, feeling her cheeks become hotter than she remembered in the refresher.

“I…” she began, taking a breath while he said nothing, “wasn’t too sure what to do with my mouth.”

A choked noise, somewhat of a laugh, escaped from him, causing Nova to relax in his hold when he kissed the crown of her head and hug her closer to him. Fixing her head to rest her chin on his shoulder, she sensed a form of calmness and joy within him. “Did I do okay?” she asked, making him squeeze her and hide his grin into her neck. “I didn’t know what to do, Kylo…”

“You did just fine,” Kylo whispered against the skin of her neck.

“Can...can we practice that, so I may do better?” she asked next, causing him to go still and pull back to look at her again. “When we’re alone, of course. The same with our other kisses - they’re still kisses...even when it’s our lips touching each other?”

Kylo nodded slowly at first, then speeding quickly when Nova’s smile grew into a big grin. “Y-yeah, it’s still a kiss. Kisses like this are...affectionate gestures between people who love each other,” he explained carefully.

“Oh!” Nova perked before going on her toes to give him a quick, easy peck on the lips. “And that?” When he nodded, Nova reached to hold his face to give him another, a little bit longer. She tried the mimic the move of softly tugging on his lip and she could swear she felt his sigh when she pulled back. “And that?”

“Yes,” he told her, his hand holding her face moving to cradle into her damp hair. Whispering carefully, Kylo couldn’t resist the small smile at seeing Nova lean expectantly towards him before he gave her another deep kiss: “This one does, too.”

She didn’t particularly needed to, but she didn’t mind going back into the refresher to join him in by tub, the water freshly colored with lavender swirls and the aroma of therapeutic oils easing any worries she had. She waited until he finished scrubbing and rinsing himself off by the shower station right next to the tub before letting her stop playing with the water; his mass causing the water to rise, he released a sigh before turning his chin her way, her own hands coming out of the water to reach for his face.

Showing him everything that had happened once she stepped foot in the throne room, to when she was dismissed, Kylo’s face twisted with concern when she showed her confusion towards Snoke’s desires of her to control people, to be in power. His cheek leaning into her palm, Kylo sighed when he watched Nova’s reaction to rejecting the idea.

“He tried harming you, yet you just tell him that he has nothing to give you,” he murmured, turning to kiss her wrist. “I can never imagine behaving that way to the Supreme Leader.”

“No, I wouldn’t want you to behave that way to him,” she agreed quietly, leaning against the edge of the tub and removing her hands. Kylo hummed, watching her intently before she noticed him and making her frown quizzically at how intense his eyes were on her. “What is it?”

“You told him there was nothing he could give you,” Kylo whispered, his brows coming together in a thoughtful furrow. “He’s the one who purchased your freedom, allowing you to join the First Order...and he has nothing you want?”

“No, he doesn’t.” Nova looked down to the water, flicking a finger to cause the clouding bath mix to erupt into amusing patterns. “He has nothing that I want.”

“What do you want, love?” he asked her next, his eyes never leaving her serene face. He noticed the small smile on her lips, prompting him to reach and trace her bottom lip and graze her cheek with his fingertips.

“I just want to be happy, which I already am.” Smiling bigger, she looked up to him. “Kylo makes me happy, and makes me feels things that I’ve always wanted to have. No one else makes me feel like that.”

“You feel happy when you’re with me?” he chuckled a bit, sitting up a bit more inside the water as he angled himself better her way. “You seem to be happy majority of the time, when I am by you or not.”

“You still make me happy,” she insisted, allowing him to hold her face by the chin and kiss the corner of her mouth softly. “You make me feel warm inside, and I know you feel the same way, too.”

“I do,” he admitted, brushing his large nose against hers, giving her lips light kisses.

“Then, I don’t need anything else from anyone, not even the Supreme Leader. I don’t need to be strong with the Force, be in control of anyone as long as long as I can love Kylo and Kylo can love me. I only want and only need you.”

Kylo sealing his lips with hers were enough to tell her that he completely agreed.

Fun fact: I originally had their first kiss planned very differently, when the plot was actually not finalized prior to chapter three.

taglist: @ayatimascd @ymariejp @yippee-ki-yay-motherfucker460@formerly-anonhamster @rosalynbair@redhairedfeistynerd@imyourdreamwife @kyloxfem

Remember, if you would like to be tagged for future chapters, please don’t hesitate to message me! I’d be more than happy to add you. Thank you for reading and I hope to hear from you!

#pilotanonwrites #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #reader insert #oc/reader insert #preludekylofic

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danafaithwriting · 7 years ago

Text

Millennials are Killing the Vampire Industry Chapter 1

Jude hunts some vampires. Poorly. Chapter length: 2k

It was a dark and stormy night club. Jude shivered in his jacket, grateful to finally escape the rain as he ducked into the entryway. Despite the weather, and despite the Temptation Theatre’s reputation, the floor was crowded, throbbing with moving bodies and music so loud you felt it more than heard it. Michael Jackson’s Thriller, in case you couldn’t tell it was Halloween by the… everything else.

Actually, maybe it was the reputation that made the club so popular. Something about surviving the night at a club known for mysterious disappearances and otherwise illegal activity. Coupled with the turn-of-the-century design, people swarmed on the sexy allure of vampires and ghosts. Jude thought it almost made up for the actual, real vampires who spent their time here.

His phone vibrated with a text. You’re late.

He glanced up and spotted his cousin on the mezzanine level, leaning against the balustrade that overlooked the busier ground floor. He waved. She flipped him off.

Another text. Bitch. Rude.

Jude made his way to the back of the club, beneath the second floor where the dancing turned into tables and booths.

I’m going to fill in your blind spot, Freddie. You’re welcome :-).

He leaned against the wall beneath the stairs, the once ornamental relief now tacky with plastic cobwebs and pumpkin decals. Even he didn’t believe how cliche it was, for vampires to make dirty night clubs on Halloween their hunting grounds. But his eyes dragged across the room and, yes, without fail, something pulled at him.

She stood by the bar with an affected casual air that did nothing to distract from her statue-like stillness. She was striking. Not beautiful, in a supermodel sense, but interesting. Features that didn’t quite fit together that somehow looked good here. Classic vampire move.

He felt the pull again, though less a pull and more a gentle tap on the shoulder. She wasn’t actively manipulating him, or anyone else. She didn’t look at anyone or anything in particular, like she was waiting for something.

His phone buzzed. I already spotted the vamp, he’s right by the stairs. On the left.

Jude glanced up and eyed the patrons by the staircase. He stood against the bannister, white blond and deathly pale, like a vampire Die Antwoord, with an unwavering focused stare that only a vampire could maintain in this darkness. Jude frowned. That made things more difficult. Not impossible, but difficult, with just the two of them.

The vampire’s head whipped around and and stopped on Jude, a flash of red in his eyes. Jude’s blood ran cold, and he quickly looked away, back to check on-

The other vampire was gone. Uh oh. He looked back at the-

They were both gone.

Jude cursed and pushed off the wall, searching desperately for either vampire. He caught movement in the corner of his eye, a body slipping past the emergency exit. He followed without a thought.

The storm had dissipated for now, leaving a dim glow on the rain damped carpark. An empty carpark, devoid of life in any sense of the word. Jude’s ears rang with the last ghosts of music, but he tried to listen past it. Past the echoes of his boots against the concrete, the dripping of rain from gutters.

“Gee, Jude, how’d you manage to lose two vampires?” he mumbled to himself.

A rush of air, the world spun, and Jude was face down on the ground. Bolts of pain shot from his hands up his arms. Before he could even gasp air back into his lungs, he was up again, an ice-like, vice-like grip on his arms held him up on shaking legs. The street was empty, and then it wasn’t. Figures appeared silent before him like they’d never not been there. Five of them, identical in all black, with glowing red irises reflecting the dim light. He recognised two of them, the vampires from the club. His stomach lurched.

“Is this the one?” The voice chilled him far too close to his ear.

“One of them,” said Die Antwoord. “There was a woman, too, still inside.”

In hindsight, probably shouldn’t have talked loudly about hunting down a bunch of vampires.

“She won’t be a problem.” He could hear the smirk in his captor’s voice.

Even the most well trained hunter would be hard pressed kill a vampire in a one-on-one fight. The only advantages humans had were group tactics. And apparently vampires were using group tactics now. He wouldn’t be able to could kill six vampires alone. Even if Freddie were here they couldn’t.

“I’m not alone,” said Jude. He hadn’t noticed he was bleeding until he spoke, and flecks of blood flew from between his lips. Every set of glowing eyes followed its path through the air and to the ground with rapt interest. That made his stomach turn worse than anything else, but he pressed on. “I don’t just mean my cousin. We have backup coming. Any minute now this place will be crawling with hunters. You won’t be able to escape.”

It wasn’t exactly true. It was entirely a lie, actually, but if he could buy himself time, or better yet, get them distracted arguing amongst themselves… He still wouldn’t survive, but he could maybe take a vampire or two down with him.

He was going to die, though. That much was a given.

The vampires were silent for a moment. Silent and still, nothing about their demeanour indicating at all that they’d acknowledged what he’d said.

Then the hands on his arms shifted. His captor ripped the stake from the loop on Jude’s belt and tossed it away, then pushed him to his knees and held him by the jaw and the top of his head. He gasped between teeth held tight together.

“We’ll kill him now and continue with the plan,” said the vampire that held Jude’s life in his hands. “If we die in the process, then we die in the process. A worthy sacrifice on the path for glory.”

Well. Shit.

Jude tried to protest, but the vampire gripped him tighter, pressing tight against his throat and strangling his words. His heart pounded, loud in his ears and audible to every creature in the vicinity. He closed his eyes, and sent a quick prayer to whatever power that makes vampires afraid of the divine that his death would be quick. And that maybe, his boyfriend would forgive him for bailing on Halloween movie night. And for keeping vampire hunting a secret. Because he was about to die and Oscar would never know how, or why. And this was all a little bit selfish, but if you can’t be selfish the moment before you die, then when can you, really?

He heard a snap, and flinched. It wasn’t his neck, at least, not yet. He hesitated, and cracked an eye open. Nothing had changed, at least from what he could see. If the vampires had tilted their heads, as though to focus on a sound heard far away, then Jude hadn’t noticed.

And then one of them was sprawled on the floor, crushed beneath another body with a stake in his back. The vampires sprang into action, the female from the club reaching her ally’s assailant first. More figures stepped out of shadows, or dropped from the roof—vampires, Jude acknowledged with a sinking feeling—and swept the scene, attacking in ways that were too fast and complex for Jude to follow. They blurred into a violent mash of colour and darkness.

One of the vampires stalked towards them, and Jude’s captor dropped him and shoved him out of the way. Jude stumbled to his feet and drew a knife from his jacket pocket, twisted around and slashed his captor across the back. The vampire stumbed, half turned, distraction enough for the other vampire to drive a stake through the space where his heart once beat.

From one angry vampire to another…

She sneered at him for a second and drew the stake from her victim, turning it on Jude now. Then she stopped, sniffed, and gave him a quick once over.

“Oh, shit you’re a human!” Her sneer softened to a genuine grin, and she lowered her weapon. “My bad. You’re wearing so much black I went autopilot. You should cut down on that if you don’t want to be mistaken for more… unsavory types.”

And then she winked.

Jude looked at her properly for the first time. Her face was familiar, but not too familiar, round jaw and long nose and curly hair in a deep shade of brown that he recognised but couldn’t place. She wore an orange crop top and bright blue track pants, an industrial bar in her ear, so far removed from the faux-historical dignity of his assailants he got aesthetic whiplash.

“What kind of fucked up upside-down universe have I stepped into?” he said. Vampires conspiring with each other. The Vampire Spice Girls attacking them. Like something out of a shitty B-grade teen vampire movie. He was already living a B-grade teen vampire movie, thank you. He didn’t need this on top of it.

“Listen, just pretend you didn’t see anything,” said vampire Sporty Spice. “Go home, take a nap, we’ve got this.” She turned away.

Jude snapped back to reality. He reached forward and snatched the stake out of her hand and raised it against her. She whipped around and caught his wrist, stake tip an inch from her chest.

“Woah, man, I saved your life just then!”

Jude gritted his teeth, tried to wrench his hand from her grasp. Her grip wasn’t tight, but it was sturdy. Not putting up a fight, but not relinquishing either.

“I’m trying to help you, I’m not the bad guy here,” she continued.

“Are you a vampire?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

Jude swiped at her with his knife hand, to emphasise his opinion on the matter. She dodged his attack and sighed in frustration.

“Come on, it’s not like that. Walk away.” He didn’t hear the last line, rather, it appeared fully formed in his head. A shudder ran through him, and his muscles tensed, legs itching to obey the command while he mentally fought for control. It was like trying to convince himself not to breathe.

The vampire grimaced. “Sorry. I hate doing this, too, but I hate dying more.”

Jude caught a glimpse of movement behind her, and stopped listening. A vampire, not an ally of hers, flying towards them. Deep, gaping black gashes littered his body, but he’d escaped the fray, and would be on them in seconds.

Jude ducked down, and Sporty Spice cried out in surprise as she came down with him. He shoved her to the side, wrenching the stake from her grip, and launched himself at Slasher vampire. He slashed with his left hand, and the vampire caught the arm easily. He didn’t catch Jude’s underhanded stab with the stake. Well, he did catch it, impaled in his stomach. The vampire snarled and pulled back, stake still in his body, out of Jude’s grip. He grabbed Jude by the throat, sharp nails digging into skin, palm cutting off oxygen. Jude pried uselessly at his throat, squeezing his eyes shut against blooming stars.

The grip on his neck slackened with a wave of force, and Jude stumbled back with a gasp. He doubled over, forcing sharp air back into his lungs, heart pounding in his ears. He blinked a few times, to force the blurriness away.

Freddie held the vampire tightly by his shoulder, stake so far in his back the tip came through the front. Right through his heart.

He broke into a grateful grin. He’d never been so happy to see someone. “Hey…” He let the syllable linger until his voice cracked into a hoarse cough.

Freddie grimaced. “Jesus,” she said. “You look like you’re half dead. What the hell happened to you?”

Half dead, but still alive. He was alive. He looked around. The carpark was empty, no evidence of the last few minutes remained, nothing but the body in Freddie’s arms. How many vampires survived? Where did they go? Why were they here? Now that the danger was over, the floodgates opened and questions filled his mind faster than he could think them, struggling to make sense of what had just happened. His head pounded.

“Jude?”

He blinked. Freddie frowned at him. She wore three layers of beads around her neck, and she pulled them over her head, the three loops extending to one long chain. At the end of it hung a heavy wooden crucifix. Right, binding. Schrödinger’s Staked Vampire, after all, had to be considered both undead and dead-dead until you watched them burn in the sun. In the meantime, binding by crucifix worked just fine.

He hesitated. “I have no idea what just happened,” he said. He reached forward to help out. His hands were shaking.

“Yeah, you’re so out of it,” said Freddie.

“Huh?”

“You’re injured. I’m taking you-”

“Not to a hospital,” he said quickly. “I’m really not up to making up an excuse for my injuries right now.”

“Of course not. Your boyfriend is a nurse. I’m taking you home.”

His heartbeat fluttered, in a sickening, anxious way. “Oh, that’s worse.” The last thing Oscar needed was to stress out about Jude’s injuries.

He didn’t have it in him to resist, though, suddenly exhausted, head spinning with information that just didn’t make sense. He let Freddie drag him back outside and to her car, with only one last desperate look at the empty street.

(If it reads kinda weird, my formatting didn’t keep when I transferred it, so I might have missed some repairs.)

Tag list (lmk if you want to be added/removed from this!): @forlornraven @panismightier @teasandchocolate @die-tenebris

#all danas go to heaven #writblr #writeblr #writers on tumblr #vampire industry #lenore sharp #jude gallego #one day i'll like.... actually post something with oscar in it. i promise

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