#get outta your basement and breathe some fresh air

[temptacioun]

dear God you're a fucking weirdo. I'm an atheist but maybe people should start believing in God again to gain morality. Rape? A traumatic event that causes people to kill themselves? And you're writing fan fiction to some mentally unstable whores? Have you been groomed as a child or something?

there’s a block button for a reason, honey. nobody’s forcing you to read what i post <3

[a-dirty-secret]

Johnny's Girl - Part 14

There's a bit of fluff but no smut in this chapter, just some suggestive stuff. Wanted to give the smut a break. I'd be ok with having it in every chapter, but I'm not sure how others feel about that. I can only change the language up so much. 😂

tw: dub/non-con, hematolagnia, dacryphilia, blood, violence, stalking, rough sex

After finally peeling yourselves away from each other you asked Johnny for a shower. He agreed, insisting that you'd need company, and you happily accepted. There was no hot water by the time you were done.

After your shower you decided to push your luck, asking Johnny to take you outside for some fresh air. It was late, but he agreed. He wasn't tired, and at that moment he wanted little more than to be close to you.

You took in a deep breath, basking in the warm Texas air. Your prolonged time in the basement made everything outside feel much sharper. The stars felt brighter, the air smelled fresher, and the crickets sounded louder. You wondered how well you'd be able to handle sunlight after being in the dimly lit basement for so long.

You stood there, staring at the starts, lost in your thoughts. You didn't notice how Johnny was staring at you, mesmerized by how beautiful you looked in the starlight. Just looking at you evoked emotions he'd never felt before, emotions he thought somebody like him was incapable of feeling. Is this really weakness?

You look over at Johnny and smile when you notice his eyes are already on you. "So, do I still have to stay in the basement?" You ask, grinning.

"Well that depends, are you gonna try to leave again?" He spoke the words lightly, not wanting you to see what he truly wanted to ask. Were you going to leave him?

"If I was planning on leaving, do you think I would tell you?" You tease, but notice Johnny isn't amused.

"Look, I wanna start givin' you some freedom around here. I don't want you to feel like a prisoner anymore, but I can't just let you walk outta here." He says tightly.

Despite his tone, you sense more discomfort than anger. You position yourself in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. You press a soft kiss to his lips, then another just below his ear. "I guess you'll just have to keep a really, really close eye on me." You whisper.

"Mmm... I think I can manage that." You step away and turn around, pressing your back against him and looking back up at the stars. Johnny sighs and wraps his arms around you tightly. "Tomorrow you can start helpin' out around here. Cookin' and cleanin'. Sissy is gonna be beside herself." He says the last part with a bit of irritation and you giggle.

"How do you think everybody is gonna react to having me around? I'm a bit nervous."

"Well Sissy already likes you, and Drayton doesn't like anybody. You'll get along with Nubbins just fine, and big boy ain't bad to be around."

"And... Your mom?" You ask nervously.

Johnny hesitates. "She'll just have to get used to you, that's all."

"Who are you trying to convince, me or you?"

He laughs and gives you a squeeze, "Both, I guess. You don't have anything to worry about. As long as you're here, I'm gonna take care of you. I promise." He runs a hand down your stomach and below your shirt, rubbing the letters he'd left on your skin. "How's it healing?"

"It itches like hell, but it's healing fine. I kind of like having your name on my skin." You say, placing your hand over his.

"Oh really?" He says, sliding both his and your hands beneath your shorts and panties. He rubs your clit gently, and the feeling of his hand under yours as he touches you drives you wild. You moan softly, the feeling of him growing hard on your ass making you want to feel him inside of you, despite already being sore.

"C'mon darlin', I'm gonna fuck you to sleep." He says, removing his hand and leading you to his bedroom.

*** Johnny was standing in the doorway, waiting for you to finish getting dressed. "C'mon, we're gonna be late for breakfast." He says, irritated.

"Don't get an attitude with me, you're the one that started grinding your hard on against me."

He smirks as you walk to the doorway. "I just couldn't resist." He says, smacking your ass as you walk out of the bedroom. You make your way to the dining room to find that breakfast had already started.

Drayton sees you and narrows his eyes. "What the hell're you doin', boy? Didn't your mama tell you to take care of her?"

"She's stayin'. She can help out around the house, cookin' and cleanin'. Sissy's been complaining about needin' help around here for a while, and you're always bitchin' about how dirty the house is." Johnny says firmly.

"Oh, how excitin'! I just knew you'd come around, Johnny! It's gonna be so nice havin' another woman around the house!" Sissy chimes in excitedly.

"Ooooh! J-J-Johnny's letting his g-girlfriend stay!" Nubbins shouts, earning a happy grunt from Bubba and a sneer from Johnny.

"Your mama's gonna tan your hide when she gets back! I oughta take care of her myself!" Drayton shouts, standing up and taking a step towards you.

With no hesitation Johnny's in front of him, hands balled into fists. "If you so much as THINK of layin' a hand on her, I'll make sure you don't have a hand to use." He growls.

"What's gotten into you, boy? You're gonna let some floozy come between the family?" Drayton responds.

"She ain't comin' between the family, she's gonna be helpin' us out. You're the only one opposed, old man, you're outnumbered." Johnny says, stepping back and taking his seat at the table, you do the same.

Drayton huffs and sits back down. "She'd better make herself useful 'round here!" He shouts, returning to his breakfast.

After the meal Johnny and Drayton left for the gas station, leaving you with Sissy. She showed you around the house, telling you where to find everything. You made a mental note to ask Johnny about getting some more cleaning supplies, this house could use a good scrubbing.

The rest of the day passed quickly. It felt good to be moving around again, and to have something to occupy your time. Sissy kept a close eye on you, though she tried not to be too obvious about it. Nubbins and Bubba kept to themselves, you hadn't seen them again after breakfast.

Now you were in the kitchen, listening to Sissy talk as you prepare dinner together. So far you've gathered that she was in various cults before she came back here. You asked what made her return, but she just gave you a sad smile, saying she prefers to think about positive things.

"So you don't like it here?" You ask.

"Oh it ain't that I don't like it, I just get lonely sometimes. That's why I'm so glad Johnny's lettin' you stay! Come on sugar, let's go set the table."

As you're setting the table you hear the front door open, and Johnny soon enters the dining room. You lock eyes and he smiles, letting you know without speaking that he's happy to see you. You smile as he passes you to go to his seat, being sure to nonchalantly rub against you when he did so. You couldn't wait for dinner to be over so you could have some alone time together.

After everybody finishes eating you get to work on the dishes while Sissy goes outside to get the laundry off the line. You hear Johnny's footsteps behind you and soon feel his arms wrap around you. "Come out back when you get done." He says, planting a kiss on your neck before walking away.

You finish the dishes hurriedly then make your way out the back door. You go through a gate and follow a path by the sunflowers, finding Johnny leaning against one of the old cars, smoking a cigarette. You stand beside him and he puts an arm around your waist, pulling you to close to his side.

"Well, how was your day, darlin'? You miss the basement?" He says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You laugh, "I didn't miss the basement, but I missed you." You say, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Yeah... Had you on my mind all day." The words felt awkward for him. He wasn't used to being open about his emotions, but with you he wanted to be. He sighs, thinking about what his mom is going to say. She's going to say he's soft, say you're making him weak.

"What are you thinking about?" You ask, sensing that something's on his mind. Johnny tenses, and you can tell that he's uncomfortable. "You can tell me anything, you know. You don't have to, but you can." You say, wrapping your arms around his waist.

He hesitates, thinking of what to say. "I've been slackin' around here since you came around. My mama always told me family comes first, everything else is a distraction. I'm meant for killin', it's what she raised me to do. She's not gonna be happy about us. She's gonna say you're makin' me weak, and part of me wonders if it's true." It felt odd opening up this way, but also relieving.

"You're allowed to have a life outside of your family, it doesn't mean you're any less committed to them, it just means you're also committed to yourself. She raised you to kill, but you're still human. Humans have emotions, they fall in love. That doesn't make you weak, Johnny."

After that you stand in silence, watching the sunset in each other's arms.

[ratboyinastarrycoat]

oc ask game

blue with foxboy. have fun!

ohhh my boy.. my boy who has never known peace in his life.... dreadful!

we're naturally assuming he's outta the basement-cult or wherever he is if he's having a PEACEFUL day... well.

if he had the choice, he'd sleep in. years of running himself to the bone and being dutiful no matter what means his internal clock is pretty strict but that doesn't mean he can't just put his head down and go back to sleep.

when he gets up, it's walk time! he loves walking! especially if he can get out, see the sun, breathe some fresh air and maybe see what all the fuss is about feeding ducks in all that tv he's been catching up on recently. buying a proper lunch, not stealing it and definitely not having to hunt it himself, is also a treat he treasures dearly (and, ah, oh no, it seems feeding the ducks also means they'll expect YOUR food when you run out. time to buy another lunch! he doesn't really mind)

he's a big fan of the pet shop. i think he'd really like to go see the pet shop, especially if he could go with the regular basement crew to coo at the little cats. or maybe just wander into the public library and brush up on his reading skills - it's been a while and he's working hard to relearn the pace he used to be able to go at as a kid (nerd)

evening sets and he just goes back home to watch tv. it's hard to shake that little bit of unease he has in public because after all, people look at you when you're a weird masked man covered in scars looking behind you all suspicious like. also he's autistic. so he retires to go sleep on the couch, nestled in a blanket den just like his namesake and watching a documentary or something with a book in hand. king of multitasking with a few years worth of real society to catch up on, who can blame him ??

[robinrunsfiction]

Hello!! Could you write a vampire gerard x reader one day..? And it's kind of fluffy with Gerard being overprotective or jealous? If so thank you and have a good day!!

Vampire-tine’s Day 2021 - Day 2

Pairing: Vampire Gerard Way x Female Reader Rating: General Requested By: Anon Word Count: ~2,000 Author’s Note: When I started this request, I kinda missed the “fluffy” part and the beginning part was angsty AF. But! Luckily I have @mariawritesfanfic in my life (for like a billion reasons) who gave me an idea, direction, and helped me basically get this story where it is today! Hope you all enjoy! Also sorry it’s late, I didn’t intend to put this one up tonight, but I failed to get the one I meant to post today done sooo

It was another bitterly cold night, but Gerard couldn't feel it, and it didn't matter anyway. What mattered was him was making sure (YN) got home safely. He watched from the shadows and the rooftops as she approached her building, but in the distance Gerard heard something that caught his attention. In a flash, the monster was in front of her fangs gleaming and Gerard launched into action as well.

“Don’t touch her,” Gerard snarled as jumped in front of (YN).

“I won’t hesitate to go through you to get to her,” the vampire snapped back. “I want a fresh meal, and this one smells delicious.”

Gerard heard a small whimper behind him before he threw himself at the offending creature. It wasn’t long before the monster, weak from hunger, gave up, running off to tend to his wounds.

“(YN),” Gerard murmured as he turned to find her still frozen in fear, hands clasped over her mouth, eyes wide.

“Ge-Gerard?” She stammered. “Gerard, what was that? What are you?!”

“I can explain, but let’s get inside before he comes back. Can I come inside with you?”

(YN) nodded as she reached in her bag with shaking hands to pull out her keys.

“Gerard, can you please explain what just happened?” (YN) asked when she shut the door behind them.

Gerard sighed. “There’s been a rise in vampire attacks, and I know you work late so I’ve been watching to make sure you get home safe.”

(YN)’s face softened at his words, before she was shaking her head in confusion again. “Vampire attacks?! And how have I never noticed you behind me? Are you telling me you’re a,” she trailed off.

“Vampire? Yea, I probably should have mentioned it before,” Gerard replied, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "To be fair, I'd only just gotten turned when we met."

“Well this answers a lot of questions I’ve had,” (YN) murmured to herself as she made her way to the couch, lost in thought.

“What?”

“Huh? Nothing!” She replied quickly, blushing as she looked up at him. “But how do you keep yourself from wanting to bite me?”

Gerard swallowed hard. He wanted to close the distance between them and take her in his arms and show her how he felt, but he couldn’t. All he could do was be mostly honest. “Because I’d be devastated if anything happened to you. More than anything I want to keep you safe.”

(YN) ducked her head awkwardly, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. “I can’t ask you to follow me around forever like my own personal bodyguard.”

“There is another way, but I’d understand if you wanna say no. Please don’t feel like you have to do this,” he said starting to pace nervously.

“Wha-what is it?” She asked, her voice sounding a bit strained.

“It’s called a protection mark. It’d help me sense when you’re in a dangerous situation, and I could be there in a flash to help protect you.”

(YN) nodded thoughtfully, taking in his words. “But you wouldn’t know everything I’d be thinking or feeling or doing, right?”

“Right,” he nodded. “Just when you need protecting.”

“I… I guess that would be a good idea,” she replied.

“If you aren’t sure, you don’t have to,” he reassured her.

“No! I, I mean, I think it’d be the best idea. I’d really not like to be bitten by a vampire.”

Gerard winced. “Umm… that’s part of the process.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her hand going to her neck protectively.

“It won’t be deep, just a small wound, I promise.”

“And you won’t turn into a bloodthirsty monster?”

“No, I’d never do anything to hurt you,” he said softly, sitting down next to her.

(YN) nodded. “Ok, I trust you, Gerard.”

Gerard took a steadying breath and leaned in, feeling overwhelmed with nerves. He knew how to do this, Ray had explained it all before, but being this close to (YN) in this context was something else all together. He tried to ignore the vampire instincts screaming in his brain about how good her blood smelled, how amazing it would taste, that’s not what he was doing.

He bared his fangs, and sank into the soft skin of (YN)’s neck. She let out a whine that turned into a whimper and he wanted to stop, but he had to make the wound deep enough. As he drew back, the taste of her blood hit his tongue and he had to stop himself from drinking more. 

“The worst is done,” he said encouragingly to her. She opened her eyes and he smiled, hoping to reassure her.

“You can, umm, the bit that’s bled, you can have it,” she said, stumbling over her words, cheeks heating up at the offer.

Gerard’s heart would have been beating a mile a minute if he was still a human. He leaned back in and carefully licked away the small rivulets of blood. It was better than anything he could have imagined. The best meals he had as a human were nothing compared to her.

Once the bleeding stopped, he brought his fingertip to his fang, piercing the skin. It took a moment for a bead of blood to pool up before he held it over the wound, allowing it to drip in. He drew another droplet and let it fall into the other hole.

“My blood is now mixed in yours,” he explained softly, looking up at her again. “Not enough to turn you into a vampire, but just enough for me to know when you’re in danger.”

“Now what?” She asked just as softly.

“You don't need me hanging around you anymore, so I can go,” he said, getting up.

“No,” she said quickly, reaching out and grabbing his hand. "I mean, you can stay and hang out if you want. I'd love to hear about being a vampire, if you wouldn't mind telling me about it."

Gerard smiled and sat back down next to her. "Yea, I don't really get to talk about it much. What do you wanna know?"

Gerard stayed until just before dawn, having spent all night talking with (YN). They'd been friends for a while, but no longer having to hide his true identity made him feel even closer to her. It also did nothing to help the crush he had on (YN), as well as his instinct to protect her at all costs. 

When he returned to his basement apartment, he typed out a quick message to Ray, letting him know what happened that night and climbed into bed. But sleep wasn't coming anytime soon, as all he could think about was (YN).

A few nights later, Gerard was walking into a party at someone's house. He wasn't the type to go out without good reason, but a text from (YN) inviting him was more than good enough.

"Gerard!" She called when she saw him, waving him over.

"Hey," he smiled as he reached her. She threw her arms around him, giving him a tight hug, before pulling back sheepishly. "Sorry, I guess I missed you," she laughed nervously.

He smiled back. "That's ok, I missed you too. You've been ok?"

"Yea. So far so good I think," she shrugged and that's when Gerard realized he was holding her hand. He wasn't even sure when it happened, but he liked the way they fit together. "I haven't had to work as late so I'm not walking alone in the dark, but I'm still glad to know you're there if I need you."

They settled into a comfortable, easy conversation, as if they were the only two people in the entire party.

"Hey Gee. Gee… Gerard Way!" Ray shouted, finally getting Gerard's attention.

"What?" Gerard asked a little annoyed, and (YN) giggled.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Ray asked.

"Yea, sure," he said, giving (YN) 's hand a reassuring squeeze before following Ray out to the back deck.

Outside, Ray's breath came out in clouds, filling the bitter night air. Gerard noted that the moon was nearly full and that meant the werewolves would be out in a night or two and he should warn (YN), just to be safe.

“How’s it going with (YN)?” Ray asked, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

“Everything seems fine so far,” Gerard replied hesitantly.

“But?”

“You know that I’ve had feelings for her for a long time, but ever since giving her that protection mark,” Gerard trailed off.

“Oh Gerard,” Ray sighed.

“What?!”

“You didn’t know tha-”

“Wait, shit, I think (YN)’s in trouble,” Gerard cut his friend off.

“At a party?” Ray asked skeptically, watching his friend run back inside.

Gerard pushed through the crowd, as if being led by an invisible thread to (YN). When he found her, she was backed into a corner, a tall, hulking man was looming over her, and she was clearly very uncomfortable and nervous. 

“Gee!” She exclaimed when she spotted him.

“(YN), are you ok? Is this guy bothering you?” Gerard asked.

“She’s fine,” the man snarled. “She doesn’t need any help from some greasy dork like you.”

“She’s not, and you need to leave her alone,” Gerard said trying to keep his voice calm.

“Make me,” the other man laughed darkly.

Gerard stepped forward and shoved him with all of the strength he could muster, launching the jerk across the room. His friends, noticing the commotion, started to make their way to where Gerard was standing protectively in front of (YN) once again.

“Hey Gee, let’s get outta here!” Ray called from by the door. Gerard grabbed (YN)’s hand and led her quickly out of the house. Once they were away from the party and certain they weren’t being followed, the three of friends settled into a comfortable pace 

“Are you ok?” Gerard asked, squeezing (YN)’s hand.

“Yea, thanks,” she smiled. “How’d you know I needed help back there? Was it the protection mark?”

“I think so?” Gerard replied, turning to look at Ray, who sighed again, stopping under a streetlight.

“I tried to explain this to you Gee, but I think you were a bit distracted,” Ray explained in an amused tone, shooting a glance toward (YN). “While the protection mark alerts the protector to when the bearer of the mark is in danger, it will also increase the bond between the protector and the bearer. Ya know, enhance anything that is already there.”

Gerard glanced over at (YN), she was already looking at him, and they both looked away nervously.

“Anyway, this is my place, I’ll see you two later,” Ray said, with a wave and heading up to the building they were in front of, leaving (YN) and Gerard alone.

“I’m sorry (YN), I wasn’t paying attention when Ray explained it all to me. I didn’t mean to make you, I mean, all I wanted,” he groaned, hanging his head in defeat.

“Gerard,” she said, reaching out and tilting his head up so she could look in his eyes. "You can tell me."

"I just like you so much, I asked Ray for advice and I got distracted imagining being your hero when he was explaining everything," he laughed, but his voice was tinged with sadness. He had a feeling (YN) was about to ask him to leave her alone forever.

But she was smiling softly up at him, her hand still resting gently on his cheek. That's when she leaned in, pressing her lips to his sweetly. The moment took him aback for a moment, but when he realized what was happening, he kissed her back with every bit of emotion he had been holding for her in his cold, unbeating heart. When she pulled back she was blushing lightly.

"Gee, remember what Ray said? It enhances feelings that are already there. I already liked you too. And now I know you like me back."

Gerard grinned. "Do you wanna come over to my place, it's not far."

"I'd love to," she smiled. "Hey, look, it’s almost the full moon. I don't have to worry about werewolves running around, do I?" She laughed.

Gerard just wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him as they headed down the street. "Oh (YN), I think I have a lot to tell you."

[publickoccurances]

Female companions react to being severely injured while on the road with Sole.

Cait: On the road again. Not that she’d have it any other way. Being out here with Sole sure did beat being stuck in that cage in the Combat Zone.

“Where is it we’re headed again?” Cait grumbled as she fell in step with Sole. They walked so fecking fast.

Sole glanced over at their friend, giving them a cheeky grin. “Oh, just somewhere a bit spooky.” They teased.

Cait rolled her eyes and made a disgusted noise. Spooky? What could possibly be considered spooky in this fucked up world they lived in. “Oh come on, stop fecking about.”

Sole sniggered ever so slightly. “We’re headed to Salem Cait. They had the witch trials there, supposedly very haunted.” Even though it seemed ridiculous, Sole liked holding onto the thought of anything pre-war.

Cait raised an eyebrow. Witches? Haunted? What the fuck was Sole playing at here.

.........................

Cait kept her hand on her gun as they approached the Museum of Witchcraft. It was very unsettling. She didn’t like how quiet it was. “Sole this was a bad fecking idea I’m telling ye’.” She breathed, eyes darting around as she tried to catch her bearings.

“You’re just letting your fears get to you. Come on Cait, it’s just a museum.” Sole shook their head as they took confident strides towards the decrepit building. “I just want to see if they have any books or something left behind.”

“My fears are not-.” Cait was cut short by a horrific sight in front of her. “Holy fuck- he’s been torn apart.”

Laying in front of them was the corpse of what appeared to be a Gunner. They had been torn apart by something, their torso split open, one arm half hanging off. A terrible sight.

“What the feck could do that to someone.” Cait whispered through gritted teeth as she looked towards the entrance to the museum.

Sole took a deep breath and shook their head. “Hell I don’t know...but this is fresh. And Gunners never run alone- there could be people trapped inside.” They looked towards Cait. Despite how scared they were, Sole couldn’t just walk away if there was a chance there was any survivors.

“Shite.” Cait muttered. Sole was right. Gunners never worked alone. If she could have it her way they would just turn around and walk the fuck outta there. But she knew Sole well enough now to know that wasn’t an option.

It didn’t take the pair long to find a way inside the museum. The front door had been chained from the inside or something, but they eventually found a basement they could enter through.

The building was silent as they decended down the stairway. It wasn’t the normal kind of silence. It was more of an terrifying one. The kind that makes you think something is gonna jump out at you. But that wasn’t going to stop them.

“Whatever it is... it’s killed these guys as well.” Sole whispered as the pointed her gun towards more tore up bodies. These seemed fresher than the one outside. The metalic smell of blood filling the air around them.

“Yeah... I reckon a couple of hours at most.” Cait agreed quietly, looking up to notice a large hole in the ceiling. “Seems like whatever it is found a quicker way up than the stairs.”

Cait did not like this. Not one fecking bit. She was all for danger. But this. This was something else entirely.

Just as Cait was going to suggest they leave a rumble came from the floor above. Something big was moving up there. Something real fecking big.

“What the fuck is that?” Sole’s eyes were wide with fear. Suddenly this fun little trip was definitely not so fun anymore. They looked to Cait, giving a slight nod before slowly walking up the stairs.

Whatever was moving around up their was causing the unstable building to rumble. The floor creaked, the windows (that hadn’t already shattered) were shaking. Surely this place wasn’t really haunted?

“Listen Sole- whatever that is... I think we should leave.” Cait suggested, though she knew that Sole wouldn’t agree. If there was a chance of saving people, they would. So as they stepped up onto the ground floor she took a deep breath.

What happened next came out of nowhere. The pair had barely been on the ground floor before there had been a ungodly sound ringing through both of their ears. Whatever had ripped those people apart had spotted them. And it was mad.

“What the feck-.” Cait turned and her eyes widened. A Deathclaw. Shite. She was just about to take a shot even suddenly a giant claw had swiped at her.

Cait was thrown back down the stairs at the force of being hit. She could feel a large gash open in her abdomen, blood beginning to pool out of her. Fuck.

She could hear Sole screaming out for her. She could hear that monster letting out it’s horrendous sounds. But she was helpless. She couldn’t feel anything. Her vision going blurry.

“Cait! Cait!” Sole continued to scream. They were cornered. This monster had seemingly killed Cait. And now it was going to kill them. All they could do was keep pulling the trigger, keep taking shots. Keep fighting.

“S-Sole...” Cait gasped, finally regaining some function over her body. Her hand moved down to her injury. It was deep. She was bleeding. Bleeding out maybe? Fuck. Was she dying?

The commotion caused by Sole and the Deathclaw filled the building with gunshots and roars. Whatever was going on up there was intense.

Cait patted her pack desperately trying to open it. If she was going to die it was going to be on her terms. She took a deep breath, injected a stimpack directly to her injury. “Fuck...” She hissed in pain.

If she could just get up the stairs she could help. Help her friend. If she was going to die she was going to die fighting. Not bleeding out in a basement alone.

After a few deep breaths Cait managed to muster up enough strength to begin to drag herself up the stairs. Each step she pulled herself up cause her agony. But she was going to do this. She wasn’t going to die down there. Not while her friend was facing getting ripped apart.

“You fucking demon!” Sole screamed at the Deathclaw as they took cover behind a display case. “I’m gonna see you fucking rot for what you’ve done!” As if the Deathclaw knew what they were saying. But it was making them fight harder. Each shot they took landed in the beasts thick hide, but it didn’t seem to be doing much damage. Cait was the one with a shot gun, all Sole had was a pistol. They were fucked.

Cait could hear her friend fighting for their life and it seemed to create a new burst of energy in her. She dragged herself up the remaining steps, letting out grunts of pain as she did so.

The stairs were only the first hurdle. Now she was up them Cait had to somehow get on her feet. If she could just stand she could get a shot on that beast. It was in her sight now, but she couldn’t get it from down on the floor.

“H-hold on Sole... I’m gonna get this blighter.” She breathed out, shifting herself into a sitting position. “C’mon Cait... stop being a fecking flower- get up.”

Cait pressed her back firmly against the wall and with every remaining ounce of energy she had in her pushed herself to her feet, using the wall to hold her up. “Over here ye’ ugly bastard!”

Both Sole and the Deathclaw looked over in Caits direction. Soles eyes widening. “Cait! No!” They cried out helplessly as the beast charged Cait.

With a deep breath Cait cocked her gun. “Hail fecking Mary.” She breathed as the beast approached. And just as she was within its reach...

BANG!

The Deathclaw hit the floor, it’s body going limp. It lay there. Gapping hole in its chest. Cait had blown right through the fucker.

“Fecking haunted my arse.” Cait grunted as she slumped back down to the floor. “Sole get me the feck out of here before I bleed out. There’s no fecking way I’m dying before I get a chance to beat yer arse for convincing me to come out here with ye’.”

Curie: Being on the road with Sole was an experience Curie was thoroughly enjoying in her new human form. It opened up the opportunity for her to feel a range of emotions. And she had been making note of each one.

As they made their way along the dusty Commonwealth road Curie couldn’t help but have a slight skip in her step. Sole had promised to show her somewhere extremely interesting, somewhere that she would be able to learn so much.

“Ah Sole.” Curie began, her voice rather chirpy. “Why ave’ you kept where we are going a secret?” Secrets. This was another thing Curie was new to. She found them rather exciting.

Sole glanced to their friend and shot her a cheeky smile. “Because, the look on your face when we get there is gonna be priceless.”

Curie took a few moments. This was a new saying. How could the way her face looked be priceless? What would cause such a thing? Ah well. She was far too excited to question what her friend was saying.

“It as’ been a rather quiet day, no?” Curie commented as she looked around her.

This was a very true statement. Usually when they would make such long journeys like these each day would have some sort of setback. But surprisingly to the two of them it had been very quiet.

Sole nodded, a slight frown forming on their lips. “Yeah... you’re right.” They said quietly, glancing around. “Maybe a bit too quiet.”

One thing the Commonwealth had taught Sole was that you couldn’t trust the quiet. It may have sounded a stupid statement. But it usually meant that something was brewing. Something bad.

“Maybe we should take a break.” Sole mumbled. Usually they would ask Curie whether or not she would like a break. But right now they were deciding. There was a strange feeling in the air now. They needed to catch their bearings.

A exasperated sigh left Curie’s lips. A break now? She was becoming rather impatient. Ah! A new feeling to make a note of.

“Very well.” Curie nodded her head. “But a short one, yes? I am feeling rather excited for wherever it iz we are going.”

Sole gave a slight nod towards and empty diner they had been walking towards. “We’ll catch our bearings in there. Better make sure we have a bit of cover just in case.”

The pair made their way into the long since abandoned diner. There was no sign of anyone being there in a long time. The perfect spot to sit down, get some food in them and all together recharge before they got a move on.

Sole allowed about an hour to pass before looking to Curie. They hadn’t been able to shake that feeling that something was going to go wrong Since Curie had mentioned how quiet it was. It was making them uneasy.

“I think we need to be extra vigilant when we’re back on the road.” They commented casually, trying not to let on just how uneasy they were feeling.

Curie tilted her head ever so slightly to the side. “If you do not mind me asking... why must we be more vigilant?”

Sole shrugged their shoulders. “Oh no reason. It’s just you know how it is. When it’s quiet that’s usually a good indicator that trouble is gonna happen.”

This was not something that Curie knew. This was actually new information. And she was making a mental note of it. “When it iz quiet that means there iz a pozzibility for trouble.” She nodded.

Curie stood up, brushing off some of the dust that had fell on her since they had stopped at the diner. “Well my friend... I think it iz about time we get a move on, no?”

What neither of them had realised that the whole time they had been sitting in the cover of the diner a group of mercenaries had been scouting them out. And Curie standing up had given their sniper a near perfect shot.

“Yeah... yeah let’s get a move on.” Sole agreed. But before they could even get on their feet a shot suddenly zoomed through one of the windows.

Curie had been turning to look at Sole as this happened. But that didn’t stop the bullet from striking her in the neck.

“Fuck! Curie!” Soul quickly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her down under the cover of the walls before another shot could be taken. “Shit... shit...” They hissed, quickly applying pressure to the wound.

“I-I ave’ been shot...” Curie gasped. Suddenly she was feeling a range of new emotions she had never felt before. So many that she couldn’t even make a mental note of them.

“It’s gonna be okay... just... Curie tell me what to do.” Sole practically begged as they cradled Curie. They knew whoever had taken that shot was still outside the diner. But right now all they could think about was how much blood was currently pouring out of the bullet wound.

Curie was trying to take deep and slow breaths. She knew that were she to panic as well both of their lives would be at risk.

“You must- you must make us safe, no?” Curie looked into Soles eyes, her own filling with tears. “P-put my and’ on the wound... I will ave’ to keep pressure on eet until we are safe.”

Sole did as Curie instructed. They laid her down, taking one of her hands and placing it over the wound. “Just hold tight okay Curie... I’m gonna kill that bastard and then we’re gonna get you sorted.” Sole assured before they moved away from Curie, to draw any more fire away from her.

It was funny. As she laid there Curie felt peaceful. She knew that she had been shot in a very dangerous spot, and by the amount of blood she had lost she was well aware this could be it. Her life could very well be ending.

She had completely zoned out from the sound of gunfire. She forgot Sole was even there trying to kill whoever had shot her. This was what death felt like? Surely not? Curie had always heard people speak of death in such a negative way. Yet as she lay here she couldn’t help but feel happy.

Curie allowed her eyes to close. Memories running through her mind. A specific one was sticking out. And she didn’t hesitate to allow herself to relive it.

‘Curie! Curie!’ Sole called out, a cheery smile on their face as they entered her new laboratory. ‘Look at what I found for ya.’

Curie let out a gasp of disbelief as she looked at what Sole was holding in their hand. ‘It eez a vault tec Bobble Head?’ She couldn’t hardly believe her eyes.

‘Yeah but look!’ Sole grinned as they pointed to the labcoat the little figure was wearing. ‘It’s a medicine one... I thought you’d like it for you desk.’

A gift? For her? Curie had never received a gift before. And she could hardly hold back her happiness as she took the small figure into her hands

‘Thank you my friend.’ She breathed as she looked up at Sole.

“Curie! Curie!”

Suddenly Curies eyes shot open. She was no longer stood in her laboratory with her friend. She was laying on the hard floor, bleeding out.

“God... Curie don’t close your eyes... please.” Sole begged as they once again took over placing pressure on Curies wound. “We’re safe now yeah- I killed them.” Sole assured.

Curie managed a faint smile. “We are safe.” She agreed, her eyes meeting Soles. Such kind eyes they had. “I don’t believe zhe bullet as’ it’ a major artery...” She breathed. “Otherwise I would not ave’ woken up from that dream. You must patch me up my friend. And zen we may return home, yes?”

Piper: Piper couldn’t help but grin as her and Sole walked along. They were doing one of her favourite activities, following a distress signal.

Understandable this seemed rather odd to be a favoured activity. But Piper couldn’t help it. A distress signal meant one of two things: they were going to save someone or they were going to be too late but there would be a decent news story about what had happened.

She was just glad it was her and Sole out on the road together, following the beep of the signal.

“You know, I don’t think we’ve ever headed this far north before Blue.” Piper commented as she glanced around her. She didn’t recognise this area. This was exciting. Somewhere new!

Sole nodded their head in agreement, matching Pipers grin. “You know I think you may be right Miss Reporter.” They teased, giving her a playful nudge as they continued on their way.

Piper rolled her eyes. Yeah yeah. Back at it with the Miss Reporter. That was something Blue had got into a habit of calling her when she stated the obvious. It was all in good jest of course. She wasn’t really annoyed. In fact ninety five percent of the time she would go along with the joke.

“I’m willing to bet a night of drinks at the Dugout that the signal is coming from over there.” Piper joked as she pointed towards a stretch of the highway that had been turned into a rather rough looking settlement. It was surrounded by cars and trucks, looked pretty fortified from where they were standing.

Sole chuckled and nodded. “You know what Miss Reporter. I think you’re right.” They teased, giving Piper yet another nudge as they walked towards the settlement.

As the duo approached the settlement it seemed as though it was empty. There wasn’t any sign of people, ghouls or mutants. Not even a Bloatfly buzzing around. Strange. But not out of the realms of possibility.

“Maybe whoever it is got lost out here.” Sole commented as they checked the map on their PipBoy. “We’re pretty far out from anywhere. I know a few Minutemen are stationed close by- but if you didn’t know that I guess you’d assume you were all alone.”

Pipers eyebrows raised. She was impressed. Very impressed. Sole wasn’t usually this good at coming up with theories. They usually left that job to her.

“Well Blue... I reckon you might be on to something here.” Piper nodded her head in agreement.

They were getting closer now. There was still no signs of anyone. It was quiet as well. Sole was starting to doubt that whoever had set up the distesss signal was even still out here. It did seem a bit odd but they shrugged that feeling off.

The closer they got the louder the beep got. The distesss signal was definitely coming from one of the shacks situated out here. There was no doubt in either Sole or Pipers mind about that. They had definitely found the right place.

“Blue. I don’t think anyone is out here.” Piper mumbled, slightly disappointed in the outcome. She had been hoping for either a wastelander in need or rescue or at least something interesting she could make a note of. “Damn it, we really walked all this way out here for nothing?”

Sole frowned and nodded their head. “Yeah I think-.”

“STUPID PUNY HUMANS!” A mutant roared as they suddenly came barging out one of the shacks.

Well. This was going to be more exciting than finding nothing at least? That’s whag Piper was thinking to herself in that moment.

“Shit! Mutants! Duck down!” Piper called to Blue.

The duo dived behind seperate cars. It was the only cover they had from the onslaught of bullets the mutant was currently firing at them.

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” Sole shouted over to Piper, an excited grin spread across their lips. “At least we didn’t walk all this way for nothing now, huh?!”

Piper shook her head. “Oh shut up and start shooting! I can hear more of them... if we don’t hurry up they’re gonna slaughter us!” Even though she was trying desperately to hide it, she was just as excited as Sole.

Piper had been right. There was at least five super mutants shooting at the two of them now. It was a good thing these pea for brains had terrible aim the reporter thought to herself.

What happened next neither of them had expected. One of the mutants had ran over, live bomb in hand. And just before it reached them it’s bomb had gone off. But this set off a series of events. The first being the car Piper had been using for cover also exploding, there had been a mine inside of it. The next thing to happen was the car explosion then setting off a series of mines.

The next thing Piper knew was she was laying in the dirt, caked in blood and grime, staring up at the sky. She couldn’t hear anything. Her ears were ringing. Holy shit. What had just happened?

Piper tried to push herself up, but to no avail. “My legs... I- Blue my legs! I can’t feel them!” Piper screamed. Though she couldn’t even hear herself. Her hearing was muffled. Her lower body numb. Fuck.

Where was Blue? Piper frantically turned her head, trying to catch sight of her friend. But nothing. All she could see was smoke and dust from the explosions. Was she still where she had originally been when hiding? Had the blast been strong enough to send her flying.

Piper began to panic. She couldn’t see Blue. They were dead. The explosion must have killed them. And now the mutants were going to come over and finish her off. Oh god. Poor Nat. She was never going to see her big sister again. She was going to have to fend for herself, the same way Piper had done when their dad had died. No. No! This was cruel. This wasn’t fair.

Just as Piper was ready to cry out for help something grabbed her collar. Fuck. She was being dragged through the dirt. Who the fuck was dragging her? Was it a mutant. Was she being taken by mutants?

Piper dug her hands into the ground. All she could hear was ringing but that didn’t stop her from shouting. “No! No! Blue! Blue help!” She cried out. Trying her hardest to fight against whatever was dragging her along.

Suddenly the dragging stoped, her back was pressed against sometbing metal. She looked up to see the familiar shape of a car. Only difference was this was smouldering and falling apart. Must have been the one that exploded. She couldn’t help but think how mutants had a sick sense of humour.

It was when Piper looked up some hope returned to her. It hadn’t been a mutant dragging her away. It had been Blue pulling her to cover. Oh Blue. She shouldn’t have doubted them.

Good news was her hearing was slowly coming back. She could hear gunshots as she watched Blue shooting from behind cover. They were still fighting. Still trying to save her. She couldn’t help the helpless feeling she had right now. But she knew Blue would do everything they could to keep her safe.

Sole suddenly slumped down, letting out some deep breaths. “That was the last of them.” They breathed, running a hand through their hair.

Just like Piper Sole was covered in dirt and blood. The explosion had been enough to knock them back, but Piper had been at the epicentre. It was a miracle she hadn’t been blown to pieces.

Sole looked at Piper, moving slightly so they could assess her injuries. Fuck she was in pretty bad shape. Her legs seemed to have taken the brunt of the injuries.

“Hold on Pipes... Im Gonna set off a flare.” Sole mumbled as they pulled out the flare gun Preston had given them. They knew there was minutemen in the area. Which meant help would be on the way.

Piper winced as Sole shot the flare up. Wait. That was good. She heard the flare. She wasn’t deaf. “Fuck- Blue.” Piper gasped. Now the initial shock was over she couldn’t suddenly feel the extent of her injuries.

Sole rummaged in their pack, pulling out a Stimpack. “Hold still.” They mumbled softly before injecting Piper. “Help will be on its way okay? We’ll get you straight to a doctor.”

Piper looked up at Blue, tears in her eyes. “Blue... Blue I can’t feel my legs.” She sobbed, the realisation hitting her that this very well could be permanent. “Why can’t I feel my legs? Are they still there?” She hadn’t even looked at them yet. She was too scared. And it was showing.

Sole nodded, moving their hands to her cheeks. “Don’t worry Piper... theyre still there okay? It’s going to be okay.”

Piper nodded slowly, letting out cry of pain as she lifted her hands. Oh god. Her hands. They were... well... they were barely there anymore. She’d lost half of her fingers and she hadn’t even realised. “Oh God Blue... we should have never come out here.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: With Brotherly LV (baon)

Summary: Edge's LV is troubling him. Red helps, if you can call anything Red does helping.

Notes:  I do love Edge and Red's relationship, all tension strained over caring. Bad, bad, Fellboys, who honestly love each other. They just have a funny way of showing it.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Angst, Violence, LV Issues, Mentions of an Unknown Monster Dusting, Brotherly Bonding

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

For the first brief moment that marrow hits snow, it steams, body-warm and bright against the whiteness, splattering like a splayed hand. His brother is speaking but he can’t hear the words because someone is screaming and he can’t see why. He can’t see through the crimson filling his sockets, not magic but blinding fluid, he’s bleeding, his brother is bleeding, and someone is screaming.

He's screaming.

Screaming as it settles into his soul, like swallowing a hot coal, burning inside him as the Monster at his feet collapsed into dust—

Edge woke with the phantom taste of dust in his mouth. His soul was throbbing, agitated, the LV within it burning. He rolled to his side on the sweat-dampened sheets, curling up in a vain attempt to tamp it down.

Mostly it didn’t trouble him, not so often as it had in the past. In Underfell, the low throb had never quite stopped, numbness shadowed in aching heat. These days, he didn’t often even think about it.

But tonight, with the memory of dust fresh in his mind, it pulsed sharply. Like clawed fingers digging into his soul, gouging out fiery strips. He tried to breathe through it, focused on control with a slippery grip, refusing to allow it freedom.

It resisted. He couldn’t silence it, like a voice of its own, those oily phantom whispers that spoke of violence, coaxing slyly through the underside of his thoughts.

Behind him, oblivious to his struggle, Stretch slept on, even snoring faintly. Exhausted probably from spending the day walking around at the fair and if he woke now, would he know, would he understand—

(liar, he was a liar, hiding things, wasn’t he, begging for forgiveness instead of honesty, lies, how many lies)

No.

As carefully as he could, Edge slipped out of bed, almost stumbling to the closet. He snatched some clothes without looking at them and went downstairs, carefully skipping the creaky third step. In the darkened living room, he dressed quickly, grabbing his keys and wallet and shoving his feet into a pair of shoes.

Even at this hour the air was humid and clinging, the temperatures only a little lower than it had been during the day. He kept the roof up on his car and turned the air conditioner to full blast.

The radio was off, and Edge kept his focus on the road, counting beneath his breath.

One, two, he was calm, breathing evenly, three, four, he was in control, not his LV, five six, calm. Calm. Calm calm calmcalmcalm—

The night guard at the Embassy entrance looked up at him curiously, but without alarm. Edge gave him a curt nod and swiped his badge. He went to the elevator the same one he went to every day, only now he pressed the button for the basement.

In the cooler lower levels was what were generally considered fitness rooms. Several held treadmills and weightlifting equipment, and a few had signup sheets for yoga classes or pilates. The rooms that interested Edge were at the very end of the hallway. Soundproof walls lined with thick mats, and along the back wall were rows of practice dummies, heavily enchanted to be capable of taking even vicious attacks.

He wasn’t the only Monster living with LV in New New Home, although his was higher than most he’d seen. There were others who had survived the war, not many but enough.

Asgore for one. Most probably assumed his LV was from that. A few knew otherwise.

Outside the door was a narrow set of lockers and Edge chose one, setting his keys and phone inside along with his shoes.

He was summoning his first attack before the door closed behind him.

A wave of jagged bones washed over the dummies, bouncing away and fading. He summoned another, a mesh of crimson and blue to bounce off the padded bodies, their blank faces holding no judgement.

He began to summon another, and the glimpse of a shadow made him pause, extinguishing the half-formed attack in a shower of sparks.

“always did have great control, boss. not doing you much good now though, is it. this shit's not gonna help if you can’t let go a little.”

“Go away,” Edge said curtly. A lazy chuckle answered that, and he turned to see his brother leaning against the closed door, hands tucked into his pockets.

“nah, think i’ll stay and watch. might be a good show.” He sucked loudly on his teeth and the smirk on his face made the burning in Edge’s LV soar. He lashed out, the bones fairly dripping with intent and Red was gone before he’d even completed the motion.

From behind, an attack sent Edge to his knees, knocking several points from his HP. He threw up a hasty defense and kept low, crouching and looking warily around but Red was not in sight.

“you missed, little brother.” That disembodied voice seemed to come from nowhere. Everywhere. “eh, but you were never as quick as me, were ya? s’why you have lv. me, i was always outta there before it could catch up.”

“I have LV because I protected us,” Edge snarled.

“sure you did, never said you didn’t.” His focused narrowed and he turned in time to see Red step sideways out of nowhere. “protectin’, that’s your gig.”

Edge flung out a hand towards him, channeling that rage into a narrow line of bones. Even through his blinding rage he knew the attack would never land, but watching his brother lazily sidestep it only fanned the flames in his soul.

“that what has you up tonight?” Red cocked his head to the side. “throwin' a tantrum because you didn’t get to ‘protect’ your liabilities.”

“You lied to me.” Lies, lies, lies.

“have to do better than that, bro, i always lie to you. which one has your panties in a twist tonight.” His sockets narrowed, his teeth parting in a silent ‘ah’. “we’re talking about the honey bun, aren’t we. confessin' his sins while you were praying to the porcelain god. dunno if you can call that a lie, little brother, we never said a word.”

It was true and it was all the more infuriating for it. “You knew! You knew and you helped him keep it from me!”

Red laughed, laughed, picking at his gold tooth with one needle-sharp fingertip. “helped? fuck, i told him to. didn’t want to listen to you cry and bitch about it so—“

He vanished before the bones could strike him, his voice carrying again from behind. “yeah, you go ahead, little bro.”

Edge spun around and Red’s eye lights were glittering with the sardonic amusement he knew all too well. “be pissed at me, i can take it. you’ve been having a hard time with all your pets lately, haven’t ya.”

“Shut up!”

“nah, don’t think i will. stretch losing hp and you didn’t even notice. andy gettin' himself stabbed and bleeding out on the sidewalk.”

“Stop it!” The bones he hurled jammed into the wall, tearing raggedly through the padding into the plaster beneath it, sending a scattering of drywall to the floor and his soul was throbbing.

“no. cause see, none of that was your fault. the honey bun getting sick, the kid gettin' stabbed. i saw the recordings, you know. kid ran ahead and none of ya had any reason to think those assholes would hurt another human. even if you’d sensed their intent you were too far away to stop it. for the kid, anyway. you weren’t watchin' him so close, but i’d bet my ass by the time stretch got to ‘em, you would have been paying attention.”

“I am going to tear your head off!”

“catch me first. yeah, that’s what has you pent up, ain’t it. thinkin' about the honey bun getting dusted on your watch.”

He swung towards that voice—and directly into a row of bones, knocking him clean off his feet to the floor. He was up in an instant, shaking off the HP drain, only to roll hastily away from another attack. Another, another, coming at him relentlessly from every angle and even his endurance could only carry him for so long.

Eventually, he raised a hand to concede, unable to voice it as he sagged to the padded floor, gasping for breath.

A dirty pair of red sneakers stepped into view. Edge kept his eye light on them, refusing to look up into his brother’s smirking face. A useless defiance, Red only crouched next to him, head cocked as he asked with mocking solicitousness, “feel better?”

“No,” Edge said sullenly. But he was the liar this time. That mean little voice was growing more distant by the second and the exhaustion leftover was satisfying in its own way.

Red only chuckled and sank down to sit cross-legged next to him. He ignored Edge’s scowl and pulled out a cigar, lighting a match with a sharp flick of his thumb.

The end kindled as he touched the flame to it, then shook it out. He took a long puff and that he didn’t blow the smoke directly into Edge’s face was likely Red’s version of kindness. That he nudged a toe rudely into Edge’s ribs simply meant his brother was himself.

“you just had to go get yourself another liability.”

The implication of that was enough for Edge to struggle up on his elbows, glaring at his brother as he sputtered, “It’s not like that!”

Red held up a hand and Edge grudgingly subsided. “nah, it’s not, i know that, not like it is with the honey bun which is good because picturin' your ocd ass trying to fuck a human is enough for me to scrub my skull out with bleach, thanks. think they’re a little too juicy for your tastes, bro.”

“Is there a point to this or are you trying to discover new ways to make me vomit?”

“never google yourself, you’d need a set of buckets.” Red murmured, then louder, “what i mean is, you like the kid. fuck, we all like the kid, you kiddin’. he’s just the type to dig right into our psyche and make hisself at home, ain’t he. the kind of trouble beggin' for someone to take care of him, fuck, you saw how fast blue snapped him up.”

“Blue was being practical,” Edge said, shortly. “Even I agreed he would be the best person to watch over Jeff while he recovers.”

The toes pressing against his ribs shifted, unerringly finding a sore place to push with vicious force until Edge grunted and shifted out of reach. “you’re in a piss-ass mood, bro. someone hurt your people and you can’t do much about it. it’s gonna rile your lv for a while, ain’t no question.”

“It’s wonderful that you feel qualified to lecture me about this with no LV of your own.”

“want me to hand you your ass again, kid?” Razor-edged warning that Red’s amusement was growing thin, and Edge knew from past experience that Red would. He was going to ache for days as it was, the threat of another round was enough for him to subside with a sullen glare.

Red sat as still as a gargoyle, his gaze measuring and finally he nodded slowly. “like i was sayin'. next time you need to blow off steam, gimmie a call. this ‘verse’s undyne can’t handle it and those dummies ain’t gonna be enough and you know it.”

“I can handle it.” I don’t want to hurt you.

“so can i.” you ain’t gonna, brat. won’t let ya.

Grudgingly, Edge nodded.

“great!” Red said cheerily. He slapped one knee and rolled to his feet with a groan, joints popping. “fuck, you gave me a good workout, paps.” He scratched his pelvis absently, then tossed out, “oh, and text the honey bun before he sends out a search party. he’s been blowin' up your phone for half an hour.”

Red was gone again before that registered and the moment it did, Edge cursed and hobbled out to check his phone.

He didn’t bother scrolling through the increasingly frantic texts, bypassing it for his contact list. It barely rang once before it picked up.

“babe?”

The relief in his voice cut and Edge closed his sockets. That coaxing whisper in his soul that tried to whisper grim defiance was easy to force back, muffled beneath the love that welled at the sound of Stretch’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” Edge said, softly. He leaned against the wall, let his skull drop back against it with a thud. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“no, it’s okay. red called me.”

He knew, Edge realized. He knew why Edge left their bed in the middle of the night, knew that he was struggling to control the burn of LV in his soul.

Knew, and the only thing in his voice was gentle warmth, caring. He wasn’t disgusted, wasn’t horrified. Somehow, Stretch with his silver-pure soul believed he wasn’t worthy of Edge and he’d never understood that, never, not when he was the one whose soul was stained dark red with LV.

(liar, he lied)

No, not a liar. He’d kept a secret, yes, but he’d been worried, understandably frightened, and he’d apologized for it.

“I love you,” Edge told him hoarsely.

“i know, but i do like to hear it.” He could hear the creak of the mattress as Stretch moved and in his mind’s eye, weary as it was, he could see his husband curled up temptingly bare in the sheets. “look, you do what you need to and if you want anything from me—“

“I’ll be home soon.” What he wanted was to hold Stretch close and sleep with him in his arms. The only pulse in his soul now was a gentle one, eager to be close to him.

“good,” Stretch hesitated. “edge?” He was quiet for a long moment and then, “i love you.” It seemed like he was about to say something else, but he only added, “come home?”

“I’m on my way,” Edge assured him. He hung up, dropping his phone into his pocket and gathered his keys, stepping into his shoes. A glance around revealed no sign of Red, but Edge still murmured, “Thank you, brother.”

Then he walked back to the elevator. He was ready to go home.

-finis-

[cuteeiji]

abscond

summary: Their ultimatums were empty promises. Relief wasn’t coming no matter what he did. [an interpretations of events preceding @the-wonder-duo blog] pairing: slight bakudeku word count: 3121 warnings: torture, body horror, explicit language.

He can’t get the taste of blood out of his mouth.

Probably because of the gash on his temple, blood streaking down his face and onto his lips. His head hangs low, chin pressed to the taper of his sternum. Blood smears there, too. He’s getting sick of all the red coating his skin, drying cold and dark.

Katsuki would like to say he doesn’t know where things went wrong, but it was probably when he and Deku decided to split up. He had just peered into the abandoned warehouse, taking a tentative step across the threshold when he heard a branch snap behind him. He turned around to a sharp crack and a white-hot pain slamming into his head.

He had woken up here, gauntlets stripped from his arms and thoughtfully replaced with shackles.

Katsuki shudders, the movement sending a jolt of pain down his spine. They keep it cold in the basement, and they stripped him down to his pants—he assumes it’s an added precaution; hindering his abilities as much as possible.

Not that they needed it anymore.

Unbidden, his eyes flick down to the burnt, bloody edges of his wrists, empty air filling the space where his hands would be. A few meters away, they sit on a table, almost unassuming with how casually they were placed. From here, he can see the scar on his thumb from when he slashed it open with a kitchen knife. The chewed nails. The slightly bent pinky finger. He had broken it when he was seventeen. Didn’t bother to get it fixed.

Bile rises in his throat, and he leans over to spit it onto the damp floor.

“Fuck,” he breathes, mouth soured, “fuck fuck fuck.”

He’s going to die here. Not yet, not now, or else they wouldn’t have cauterized his wounds—but they don’t want his quirk. They don’t want his allegiance. They’re waiting for information to spill from his lips, and then they’ll kill him.

He heaves out a humorless laugh. Those bastards have another thing coming if they think he’s going to tell them anything. All he has to do is hold out for as long as he can. Make sure they stay in place.

Deku would find them soon enough, regardless of whether he’s alive or not.

Deku.

Katsuki closes his eyes, feeling the nausea rear its head again. Deku would have to work alone now, or find another teammate. The thought bothers him more than it should—Deku working with someone else. He quickly stores that feeling away, alongside the other pile of emotions involving Deku that he doesn’t want to unpackage.

Besides, Deku would have a hard time finding someone better than him to work with. They were the best team out there. 

When—if—he dies, the Wonder Duo would die with him. 

Despite himself, he indulges in his dark train of thought and imagines his funeral. His old classmates would be there, his teachers, his parents. His mother would be so pissed that he’d gotten himself killed. His father would cry. He was a quiet crier; he hid his face in his hands so no one could see the tears fall or hear the little hitches in his breath. And of course Deku would cry too—loudly, unreserved, shoulders trembling with his sobs.

Katsuki grits his teeth. He fucking hated it when the nerd cried, and it was even worse when it was because of some stupid shit he did. Like dying.

Deku didn’t deal well with losing people. He had hugged him after All Might had passed. His fingers had curled into his clothes, face pressed heavily into the crook of his neck, and Katsuki had felt him exhale shakily, as if that embrace was the only thing letting him breathe. He had allowed himself to melt and hold him for a few minutes, stroking his hair, feeling the crook of his chin nudge his collarbone, hot tears dropping onto his skin.

Who would Deku hug when Katsuki was gone?

Light spills down the stairs as the door slams open. He starts, groaning as he scrapes the stump of his wrist against the ground.

“Wakey wakey,” says the rat-faced bastard from above him, probably fully aware that he wasn’t sleeping. He was the one that seemed to like it the most when Katsuki screamed, his beady little eyes lighting up with glee and a wicked smile curling on his face. His favorite pastime seemed to be pressing his fingers against the cuts on his skin, digging in until the scab broke and blood ran fresh. Either that or cutting him open like a piece of meat.

“Fuck off, you sadistic piece of shit,” Katsuki mutters, turning his head away.

“Aw,” he says, and Katsuki can hear the pout in his voice. The stairs creak as he descends. “You’re too mean, Kacchan.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he snarls, even though he knows its useless. They had done this little dance a thousand times, and it usually ended with a ragged knife slicing over Katsuki’s skin, the man’s hot breath in his ear, whispering “do you like that, Kacchan?” again and again until Katsuki finally fell into the relief of unconsciousness.

He swallows the vomit that pools into his mouth. Don’t let them see you be afraid. Don’t give them the satisfaction. Don’t say anything. Hold out for Deku. Hold out for Deku.

He’s lost track of the time that he’s been in here, but it had to have been at least a couple days. He can feel his head pound from dehydration. Hunger was a thing that he had lost a while ago. His wrists feel like they’ve been burning for centuries, but he knows it had only been a few hours since they had pinned his arm to the table and—

He clenches his teeth. Don’t let them get to you.

It was a hopeless litany. He had repeated it to himself time and time again, even as he screamed in agony, begging for them, Deku, anyone to help him. Ratface would laugh at his breathless pleas and keep on carving.

Most of the bastards that had taken him were all business. It was a simple equation for them: They would stop as soon as he gave them what he wanted. Ratface was the lone exception; Katsuki had a feeling that he wouldn’t halt the fun just because the rest of them did. Funnily enough, it made it easier for him not to break. Their ultimatums were empty promises. Relief wasn’t coming no matter what he did.

Ratface, as if to reaffirm his depressing realization, grips his shoulder, nails ramming into his still-weeping wounds. Katsuki stiffens, breath hissing through his teeth.

“Did that hurt, Kacchan?” He asked, face the picture of innocence. “I’m sorry.” He presses harder.

“Fuck you,” Katsuki groans, pulling his knees to his chest. Fear, hot and trembling, rolls down his body. He feels it burn on his soles, alongside the jagged rims of his wrists, the back of his neck. He shivers, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Hm,” Ratface says. He can hear the hush of moving fabric as the man stands up. “I guess we should get the boring part outta the way first.”

He turns to the closet across the room. “So, Kacchan,” he says casually, walking over and opening it. “Spill your guts or I’ll do it for you.”

“I told you, don’t call me that,” he says unsteadily. Something feels off, like every atom in his body is vibrating, like he’s being unmade and roughly pieced back together again. He retches a little, and distantly, he can hear Ratface laugh.

“I can do whatever I want, Kacchan,” He says, rummaging through the closet. “Ain’t nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Die, scum,” Katsuki mutters, skidding his feet against the ground in a poor attempt to kick dirt at the man.

He sees a flash of light and heat skittering around his ankles, and he stops breathing.

Ratface is still looking for the tool he wants. It’s part of the act—the anticipation, the edginess building up until he was bursting at the seams with fear. That’s when he always liked to start cutting.

For once, Katsuki is grateful for his deliberate sluggishness in choosing a weapon. He kicks out again, and there it is: the unmistakable sparks of his quirk, bursting from his soles like little fireworks.

He remembers Deku reading up on quirk mutation, his face lighting up talking about the epigenetic implications regarding how they could be expressed.

“There are only fifty two cases of quirk mutation in adults in the entire world,” Deku had said excitedly, pointing at the article. He had snorted, called him a nerd. Read the entire thing later that night.

Katsuki scrapes his heels against the floor, pinpricks of light dancing across his skin. “Guess I’m lucky number fifty three, huh?” He whispers, low enough for the rat-faced bastard not to hear him.

“Kacchan,” he calls from across the room, “I think I found the perfect thing for today.”

Katsuki looks up and feels the blood drain from his face.

Ratface is holding a chainsaw.

“Get the hell away from me,” he says, scooting until his back is pressed flat against the wall.

Ratface strolls over, swinging the chainsaw at his ankles. “Aw, don’t be like that,” he croons. “We’ve had so much fun these past three days.”

Katsuki’s pulse hammers against his throat, a cold sweat trickling down his cheek. The man draws closer, his smile getting wider at the naked fear on his face.

He feels like Deku, thought after thought pinballing into his skull. Would his feet even be effective at this point? All he had done was make harmless little sparks. Should he attack? Should he wait until Ratface was gone to try and escape? What was he going to do to him? Would the damage he took today hinder him?

He looks up at the man standing over him, face contorted with a terrible glee.

“I’ve been waiting for this since you got here, Kacchan,” He whispers, turning the motor on, and Katsuki’s mind goes blank.

He screams, kicking out at him, and the room lights up in a glorious blaze as his soles detonate. Ratface flies back, hitting the wall with a sickening crack. The chainsaw lands beside him, still whirring.

He hears footsteps upstairs, voices murmuring. What was that?

Panicked, he looks at the shackles cuffed around his ankles. He can’t move in these, not fast enough to escape. He’d have to break them.

He nudges his heel against the metal band encircling his left leg, and closes his eyes as he lets an explosion off against it. It burns, agonizing pain shooting up his leg, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins numbs it almost as quickly as it came.

He lurches up, legs unsteady.

Go. Run.

He glances at his severed hands, lying neatly on the table.

No time. Go.

He turns away and stumbles up the stairs, chest heaving. The door opens, and the bright light is almost blinding. A figure stands at the top, gun drawn and aimed between his eyes.

Fight. Run.

Katsuki ducks just as he shoots, blasting himself up by his feet and slamming his head into the man’s stomach. He doesn’t pause to see him land, sprinting through the cabin. He hears guns being cocked and he jumps, firing explosions in the direction of the noise.

There’s yelling, and he feels hands on him, and he shrieks out a curse, letting his feet discharge and carry him through a window, glass shattering around him. He lands on soft grass, every single cut on his body screaming.

Hurry, run!

Panting, he rolls onto his knees, his feet scrambling under him. Distantly, he hears them yelling.

“He’s getting away!”

“Follow him, for fuck’s sake!”

Katsuki runs. They’d taken him to a forest, somewhere secluded, no doubt. It doesn’t surprise him—they would’ve gagged him if they were worried about someone hearing him scream.

He doesn’t feel the brambles tearing at his skin, or the graze of the underbrush on his feet. The wind streaks through his hair, against his eyes, and he feels cold tears trickle down his cheeks. If he pretended hard enough, he could be in the woods training with Deku, watching the breeze play with his hair as he ran, eyes wide, an exhilarated smile on his face.

“Catch me if you can, Kacchan.”

Katsuki runs faster.

Eventually, dirt and plant gives way to road. He could’ve collapsed in relief, but his legs keep carrying him on, bloody and bruised, pounding against the asphalt to the time of his heartbeat. It’s not until he sees a light in the distance that he starts to sprint in earnest, breath coming ragged and hopeful.

It’s a house. A neighborhood. He stumbles to the nearest door and bangs his head against it, sliding down until his knees hit the concrete porch.

The door opens, warm light shining out into the darkness.

“Hel—oh my God, sir, are you alright?”

“Deku,” he says, dazed, glancing up at the horrified-looking woman. “I…I need Deku.”

The woman drops to her knees, taking his face in her hands. “Oh my God—honey, come here—You’re Ground Zero, right? We’re going to get you help. We’ll get you to a hospital, okay?”

The lady has nice eyes. Freckles. Deku.

“Jesus Christ, what happened to his hands?” Someone else asks. A man. Katsuki stiffens, but he doesn’t sound like the others. No malice. He sounds like his dad, almost.

“Deku…” he says again.

“Mr. Zero, we’ll make sure that he gets to you,” the lady says. He hears someone dialing, talking, using his name.

“Need…’Zuku,” he pleas, vision going blurry. “S’probably been lookin’ for me. Need ta tell’m I’m okay. No cryin’ allowed.”

“He’ll be here soon,” the lady says consolingly, stroking his hair. He collapses against her shoulder, feeling his consciousness slip away from him. “He’ll meet you at the hospital. The ambulance is on it’s way.”

“Hate it when he cries,” he mumbles softly, and lets himself fall into a deep and comforting darkness.

He wakes up to the smell of antiseptic and a monotonous, clinical beeping.

Hospital, he thinks hazily, and glances down. Deku is slumped over his lap, head perched on his folded arms. His eyes are red-rimmed and dark, eyelashes fluttering in an uneasy rest.

Katsuki feels a jolt of guilt. It looks like he hadn’t slept in days. He reaches out to touch Deku’s face, or stroke his hair, or something— and stops short.

He stares at the heavily bandaged stump for a moment, and lets it drop to his side silently. He drags his gaze back up to the ceiling, ignoring the blurry fragments of memory stirring in his mind.

“Deku,” he says, voice raspy, and he feels the mass on his lap jump.

“Oh my God, Kacchan, are you awake?” He asks frantically, leaning over him.

“What does it look like, shitnerd?” He replies, but there’s no heat in his voice.

He can see tears well up in Deku’s eyes, and he groans. “No, stop that, shitty Deku.”

“I—I’m just so glad you’re okay,” Deku says shakily, tears dripping down his face. “I thought—When I saw you laying so still—”

“It’d take more than a couple of thugs to kill me,” Katsuki says, but he looks away as the words leave his lips.

“Kacchan,” Deku says, so gently it hurts, “It’s okay to be upset by what happened.”

“Does it look like I’m not?” he says, laughing hollowly. “My goddamn hands got chopped off. They cut me up and laughed at me. I woke up every day wondering if I was gonna die.”

His voice drops. “God…I was so scared, Deku.”

“Me too,” Deku admits. “I was—I was so, so worried. One moment you were there and the next… I couldn’t find you. And there was blood spattered on the ground. God, Kacchan, I thought you’d been—” He cuts himself off. “How did…how did you escape?”

Katsuki sits up, and Deku’s hands immediately come to steady him. “What are you doing?”

“It’s better if I just show you,” he grunts, swinging his legs off the hospital bed.

“Kacchan, you should wait for a…doctor…” Deku trails off, staring wide-eyed at his feet, little sparks fizzling out like fireworks along his heels. “Oh my God.”

“You mentioned quirk mutations a few weeks ago, right?” Katsuki says, kicking off a reasonably-sized explosion in the air. “And how they usually show up when the user is in distress?”

“Oh…oh God, Kacchan,” Deku whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Katsuki lies. He can tell by the look on Deku’s face that he doesn’t believe it. “At least I’m not totally useless. Can probably find some prosthetics that’ll let me keep working. Incorporate my legs more. Sorta like your shoot style.”

“No,” Deku says.

Katsuki glares at him. “What do you mean, dumbass? Don’t wanna work with an amputee?”

“God, no, that’s not—of course I’d work with you,” Deku says, looking horrified. “We’re a team no matter what. What I meant is that…I might have a way to get your hands back.”

“Wait,” Katsuki says, squinting at him. “You don’t mean…”

Deku nods, and takes a step closer. His knees bump against his shins. “Yeah. We’d have to keep it pretty private. You know what could happen—the repercussions that would ensue if it got out to the public.”

He nods grimly. “How long… how long would it take?”

Deku’s mouth flattens. “I don’t know. A couple weeks, maybe a month?”

Katsuki inhales, the air rattling in his lungs. He looks down at the empty space beyond his wrists, imagines it being there forever. His stomach turns, and he exhales. “God. Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki says, leaning his forehead against Deku’s. Maybe it’s the morphine, maybe it’s all the shit that he’d gone through, but he’s craving contact that wasn’t the sharp cut of a knife, the ache of hammers beating against his bones, of fingers around his throat.

Deku delivers, his hands cupping his face, smoothing over the scar under his eye. It’s moments like this—when Deku’s looking at him like he’s something precious—that Katsuki wonders if he also feels the buzz under his skin when they touch, feels the swelling in his heart and the fluttering in his stomach. He never allows himself to wonder for long, but just this once, he pretends, lets himself be selfish.

“We’re in this together,” Deku says softly, but Katsuki can see the heat in his eyes. His determination. His resolve. “For better or for worse.”

“Yeah,” he echoes. “For better or for worse.”

And maybe, for now, that’s all he needs.

[starlessskies94]

The Nurse (Negan/BlakeAU) Part 14

MASTERLIST

Negan kicked at the empty boxes by his feet, chestnut eyes searching the overturned shop floor surrounding him. The pair had left the farmhouse early that same morning; not wanting to stay in one place for too long.

A few stops here and there to search for supplies had taken up most of their morning, but every place they tried always seemed to be ransacked leaving nothing left. Dusting off the dirtied counter-tops, Negan rummaged through the drawers before slamming them shut when he found them empty.

“I got nothing doll, place is picked clean.”

She hummed in agreement stepping out from the storeroom, located at the back of the store.  

“Yeah looks that way. Maybe we could try that gas station down the road?”

“Worth a shot Peaches but I wouldn’t hold your breath on finding anything salvageable.”

The blonde huffed in frustration; throwing leftover empty tin cans across the room, the loud metallic clang echoing in the heavy silence.

“Well we need to find something! We’re running out of food.”

“I told you, I was sorry about that.”

Shaking her head, Blake lowered herself to the floor. Her back leaning against the empty store shelf, Negan took it upon himself to take a seat beside her. Still feeling rather guilty despite her encouraging him to eat, to make up for the sustenance he’d lost in the weeks they’d been apart. She tilted her head against his shoulder breathing out a quiet sigh.

“And I told you that you don’t have to apologize. I’m glad you’re eating again Negan you need the strength it’s just...”

“Go on say it...”

“Did you really have to eat my rations too?”

His chest rumbled with a dark chuckle; brown eyes falling to her face as he fought back a sly smirk.

“In my defense I only ate what you didn’t finish...”

“When did I ever say I was finished?”

She groaned and stood abruptly; storming over to the counter, opening and slamming the drawers closed. The ex-saviour was a little taken back by this, rising to his feet to join her, standing on the opposite side, perching his elbows on the dusty surface and watching her intently.

“Is this our first fight Peaches?”

She scowled at him as she continued searching, for what Negan had no idea; knowing full well that the blonde knew he had already checked that area. His best bet was that she was merely trying to keep busy; a poor attempt at hiding her budding frustration of finding nothing yet again.

It’d been the same in every other place they tried, but after years of the world going to hell it wasn’t a surprise that most places would be picked clean of supplies. However even armed with that knowledge he could tell that it was chipping away at her optimism.

“This is not a fight, it’s simply a discussion between...friends.”

“Well that’s a damn shame.” He said as he slid round the counter, his arm slowly snaking around her waist and pulling her closer.

“Because if we were having a fight, I’d be really looking forward to the making out.”

“You mean making up?”

A wolf-life grin grew on his lips, leaning closer towards her till they were just a breath way. His voice low and dangerous.

“You make up in the right way sweetheart, it’s pretty much the same thing.”

Blake cocked her head to the side, her face so close to Negan’s she could feel his breath caressing her cheeks. A coy smile dancing across her lips as she slowly pulled away, watching the torment in the man’s eyes as he let out growled huff of disappointment. They’d been playing this game for days now… one tempting the other but never actually crossing the line. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed when the ex-savior hadn’t kissed her when she broken him out from his cell. There had always been something drawing her to him from the first day she’d stepped foot into that basement. The electric in the air whenever they were close. The tingling she’d feel in her stomach and flutter in her heart whenever they touched. Sometimes it was hard to ignore and she often wondered if he ever experienced the same when he was with her.

The spell was broken by the sudden growls and snarls coming from the back exit door. Both quickly rushing to arm themselves, Blake taking firm grip of her gun while Negan unexpectedly appeared from the behind the counter with a baseball bat in his hands. The walker hissed as it stumbled towards Blake, reaching out with its decomposing claws to tear at her flesh, the ex-savior rushing ahead with a strong swing smashing the dead man’s skull, the body slumping to the floor with a dull thud.

Negan swung the bat back through the air before letting it hang loosely in his hand. He smirked leaning back on his heels whistling in appreciation of his work as he turned back to face her, for a moment he looked like the old Negan…the man everyone was so afraid of, the one she’d never gotten to know. But she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Damn I have missed this shit...”

“You having fun there?”

She stood with crossed arms taking in the scene before her, the amusement in Negan’s eyes evident in the way he glanced at the fresh bloodstains on the bat.

“Doll, you spend time cooped up for as long as I have; you learn to appreciate the little things.”

“And that apparently includes bashing in the brains of a walker right?”

“Man’s gotta take his fun where he can find it Peaches.”

“Hmmm. Come on, bat man we need to keep moving.”

“Seriously?”

He arched a brow at her; waiting for a few seconds before the penny finally dropped and she realized what she’d said.

“What...oh right that’s actually kinda funny.”

He followed her out of the store, bat rested on his shoulder, clearly having a hard time letting old habits die. But there was something about the way he changed holding the damn thing. The spring in his step, the new burst of confidence in his demeanor. The cocky grin that never left his lips as he strolled up beside the blonde.

“So…does that mean you’re my budding little sidekick then?”

She snorted out a condescending scoff at his words, stopping in her tracks and pointing a sharp finger into his chest.

“Please we both know if anyone’s the sidekick here it’s you... after all I’m the one that did the rescuing.”

“That you did... you know I never got a chance to thank you for that Peaches. And I’d be more than happy to show my appreciation.”

There it was again, the electric. Blake could feel it building as her heart raced the closer he got. Her chest rising and falling through a slow shaken breath. His free hand inching its way around her waist again tugging her so close their bodies barely brushing against each other. She purred deeply at the tantalizing closeness; the tickle of his breath against her lips. But as her eyes drifted over his shoulder, she sharply pulled away at the sight of an oncoming hoard.

Her breath catching in her throat as Negan turned and saw them too. His grip on the bat tightening, once again placing himself between her and the dead.

“Come on Peaches…let’s get outta here before those dead pricks catch up.”

She said nothing as she followed him to car, taking her place in the driver’s seat. Quickly pulling away and leaving the walkers behind. The ride was silent for the most part, Blake keeping her eyes on the road while Negan taking it upon himself to take the time to clean the bat he’d taken new ownership of.  

She stole a few side glances as she drove, the ex-savior fully enthralled in what he was doing.

“So I take it you’re keeping the bat then?”

“Why not? It’s quieter than a gun���just as effective. I mean this one has nothing on my old girl Lucille but it’s a close second.”

Lucille. Why did that name sound familiar? She knew she remembered it from somewhere. Her body chilling from the blurred untouched memories hidden deep within her mind.

Lucille…Lucille…

It was then the memory surfaced. Her heart stopped, hands turning white against the wheel as her grip tightened. Her breaths short and shallow. The memories crashing her head and heart all at once as she remembered. She remembered everything and it made her feel sick to her stomach.

Oh god…please…no!

I recently received some hate about this story, I understand that everyone is entitled to their opinion but to be honest it has shaken my confidence and this story’s likability...I really hope that people don’t find it boring or think that Negan is too out of character because I am enjoying writing it and hope people enjoy reading too...A huge thank you and massive hug to @neganandblake for sticking up for me I really appreciate it! Us girls gotta stick together!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[lucexworth]

“Thanatophobia is like a light in the middle of the night that spreads its flames on the objects it will soon consume.”-– Louis, chevalier de Jaucourt, for Diderot's Encyclopédie

A study in death anxiety between two men who keep dying. A lot.

A Kingfield fic because I’ve lost control of my life. I should be writing my papers. 

Fic under the readmore because it be like that sometimes.

Between the howling and the haze of the storehouse, the distant squeal of someone’s breath being ripped from their lungs, and the paranoia that any time spent not in motion would greet you with a crown of corvids; Macmillan’s home gives way to a fear that does not force you to scream. Rather, Macmillan’s home fosters the sort of enveloping anxiety that can only spawn from the entity. Whoever begged it for the fog, however, could fuck right off into the spider-legged abyss.

  It isn’t the creeping dread that gets to David, but whoever was erratically blowing the generator on the far end of the property. No matter who it was, they’re about to either have a faceful of bonesaw, or a faceful of fist. Forget that he, himself, had been bleeding since the start of the match. A handicap unto himself for the sake of adrenaline and adrenaline alone. Whoever was inconveniencing him, was about to have a much worse time. That much was simple. He knows damn well that there are only two left, and the kickback of a failing engine grates on him more than the actual sound of the nurse’s wheezing.  It’s simple. You repair the generator, leave, repeat.  

  Another miss, the generator crackling with all the mechanical dysfunction it could muster. At this point, whoever’s wasting time is either an idiot or deliberate. But judging how David had previously seen Meg hauling ass out of the storeroom, and Ace’s luck seemed to have entirely choked early match leading to a pitiful escape attempt, there’s only one answer.  Sputtering a string of incoherent swears, David slinks along the back wall of the property, keeping an eye out for any possible streaks of white or screaming. At any particular noise, he stops, dead in his tracks. Another screech, and he moves.

  Another miss, yet again, and he’s standing behind Dwight, who has yet to look behind himself, David still keeping an eye on the nurse, whenever she did blink into view. The lack of care, or blatant distraction was starting to get to him.

 “You enjoy fuckin’ around with your life, Fairfield?” A blunt statement, loud enough to hear over the manual cranking of the gaskets. Dwight starts, shoulders going tense, only to have David reach over him and press his hand against the generator to avoid another eruption. “The fuck’s with you?”

  There’s silence, only collapsed by the near shriek of the nurse and Meg yelling some chain of expletives in regards to “Teleporting-through-trees-fucking-bullshit”. In any other case, David might have barreled out into the open himself, cackling about Meg’s agitation and “Baghead” being seemingly off her game. Instead, he draws his hand from the generator and presses his hand against the concavity between Dwight’s shoulder blades.

  “You’re bleeding.” Dwight finally mutters, hands finally becoming more still. “How are we supposed to get out if you basically stab yourself the second you get in the lot?”

  “Ya do a generator, then ya leave.”

  “Shut up. You know it’s not that simple.”

  David draws his hand back, only to crouch on the other side of a generator, prying at old wires and waiting for a further explanation. A generator in the distance howls with a newfound power, only to be followed by the a distant wheeze and Meg’s yell- finally hit. David flinches prematurely, and Dwight flings his hands up as the sparks fly. The heartbeat never comes. David continues, staring down at his work.

  “You ever think one of these days we’ll die and that’ll be it?” Dwight mutters, barely audible under the clattering of metal. “Like, maybe Ace isn’t back at the campfire, but just. You know.”  

  David doesn’t look up. “Don’t be a right fuckin’ idiot about that. We always come back.”

  The cranking stops, and David peers over to see Dwight still crouched on the floor with his hands on his knees. Prayer-like. Meditative. As if he’s trying to center himself in the oppressive fear of death. David knows the nurse has this effect on people, but fears be damned if it didn’t drive him mad with a weird aggressive sense of superiority. Or some miasma of despondency.

  “Look, ya always tell people ya need them to survive so you survive. You’re fuckin’ lucky I happen t’ be someone damn capable of keeping people alive. Have some faith.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” Dwight shoots back, fingers tracing the underside of the generator. “You go looking for fights, and consequences be damned if you get hurt. As far as I’m aware, you’re more help off a hook than on one.”

  There’s a vague pulse, and David stands; not so much insulted by being told to shut up, but impressed. “A’right, ya made your point. Now get th’ fuck outta here.”

  “What?”

 “I said get out.”

  There’s a beat as Dwight stands, only to be shoved out of the ring of debris as the nurse enters the ring, Meg bolting after her and gesturing to the generator. Between Dwight and Meg on opposite perimeters, David realizes he’s in for an awful fucking match. Her saw raises, still covered in what he assumes is fresh gore, and barely misses. David darts from the ring, towards the storehouse, trying to drag her as far from the gen as possible. Muscle memory from  bar fights and debt collecting, he knows damn well how to run and evade like a madman.

  Consequences be damned.

  He runs through the storehouse, spiraling between shelves of materials and a lit generator, hoping to lose her by the third blink. If the gates open, the other two can go. That’s all he needs, right now. For people to get the fuck out. He manages for three cycles, only dizzying himself slightly in the mess before launching himself out a broken window on the side of the storehouse. A lethal mistake, knowing damn well he couldn’t remember if she had blinked twice or three times before clattering out the windowpane.

  For the record, he assures himself as the bone saw cleaves through his shoulder and his face hits the dirt, it was two.

  The generator sputters to life around the same time he lets out a bark of pain, rolling forward with his elbow as the nurse watches, lifting herself through the window and pulling him off the floor. David hisses through his teeth, wriggling in her grasp and driving the heel of his palm into the back of her neck. The whole cycle is graceless as she hovers about the side of the building, only to return inside and descend the staircase. Another hard smack to her neck, with no luck. David curses himself in the red haze of the room, flung haphazardly onto a hook in such a way that the rust and blood finds its way back into his shoulder through the previous wound. The yell breaks into an agitated howl, throwing his leg out in an aggressive kick towards the nurse as she vanishes up the stairs.

  Somehow, the bullshit of it all reminds him of another bar fight, the feeling of being clobbered over the head with a bottle of scotch in the moment you think you’ve done enough. You made a point, and now your point is laying with you in the starry haze of your own blood. If they knew anything about anything, the other two would leave. Appease the stupid god of the woods with some flesh and blood, lick their wounds, and get a good night’s sleep. He knows what it’s like to be taken apart and wake up reassembled under the willows. He can take it.  There’s been worse.

  His body goes limp on the hook, somewhere between resignation and the forced self-assurance that the others are smart enough to leave and carry on. His eyes close, ready for the event to end and the entity to scramble to collect whatever it desires at any second.

  “To quote someone I know, the fuck is with you?” The whisper comes as a shock, and David is quick to open his eyes and stare down the man in front of him. “Since when do you just sit there-“

  “Get me down or leave me, don’ sit here an’ lecture me when she’ll be back any second.” David is quick to interrupt, teeth gritting as he feels the subtle rattling of the hook. “Fuckin’- pick one.”

  He barely has time to gripe before Dwight is grumbling underneath him, heaving him off the hook and back onto the floor of the basement. David stumbles, nearly collapsing into him with all the grace of a pile of bricks. He reels back, planting his feet firmly on the ground and giving Dwight a look that only dared him to make some comment about blood loss, near-death-ness or whatever the hell the lesson was. When nothing comes but an exhausted look, the two bolt out from the basement, Dwight seemingly convinced that David should stay a pace or two behind him.

  They follow one another, silent up to the nearby gate, Meg already long gone. The exit is clunky and awkward, but fast all the same.

  The terseness of the air is oppressive.

-

   The campfire is crowded as usual, stories being passed around as a cheap cover up for the ever persistent feeling of doom. Save for two survivors, on the outskirts of the woods. No words come, for awhile. They stand, backs to the camp, staring into the vast nothing of the Entity’s realm. The wind howls, something like a warning to turn back. Go sit at the fire, it warns. No philosophising. Don’t dismantle your dread.

  “You know, I ended up here because I got left in the goddamn woods.” Dwight admits to nobody in particular, cleaning his glasses. “Left to die by some drunk co-workers.” The spite is raw in his throat, and David knows that vague sense of shame. The abandonment.

  “Least you didn’ jus’ wander in like a right fuckin’ idiot.” He laughs, trying to give some kind of support. Dwight gives him a look, but it begs for nothing other than the joking to stop.

  “You think about it too, don’t you.”  Dwight says firmly, still facing the horizon. “About dying, y’know, for real.”

  “Pretty sure I’m already dead ‘for real’.” David states bluntly. “Far as my mates are concerned, I got brained out in some fight with some punks, an’ outright ghosted after that. Nothin’ left.”  

  “So you think we’re all dead?” Dwight asks, finally turning to face David, who’s staring at him fairly hard. As if he doesn’t want to be having this conversation for some collection of reasons. David realizes he must seem outwardly put out by the whole deal upon hearing the tone question. Worry.

  Why the fuck does he have to worry?

  David sucks air through his teeth as if he’s been punched in the stomach, looking away for a moment. “I didn’ say we’re all dead. Said I think I’m dead.”

  He looks back to see Dwight closer, brow furrowed. It’s not long before there’s a hand on his face, tracing the scar on his lip with a cross between nervous curiosity and a vague sense of outright compassion. It’s out of left field, almost. David’s hand settles barely above Dwight’s hip on reflex, keeping him within reach.

  “You don’t feel more dead than anyone else.” Dwight states, quiet. “Depressed, maybe. Not dead.”

  He nearly flinches at the accusation, but finds himself standing still. It occurs to him that the two of them have seemingly skipped some sort of steps, cordial friendship or whatever the hell preceded emotional support and post-near-death preening. But, here they are, assuring one another about their existing mortality and their personal downfalls. Frankly, David prefers this over all of the exhaustive repetitive bullshit. When you’re dying with people every night, small talk is pointless.

  “You scare th’ shit outta me, sometimes.” David mutters, a half-laugh that only exists for a few seconds before being mentally strangled from existence. “Watchin’ you put your hands on a generator? Feels like I’m ‘bout t’ witness someone  lose their fingers.”  

  Dwight rests his head against David’s collar, hands falling around him with a sense of exhaustion. “Take it up with my anxiety, then.” His voice is quiet, with the same bare amusement.  

  “Thought anxiety gets worse with th’ crowds.” David says, hand ghosting over Dwight’s back.

  Dwight sighs in response, still pressing close. “Yeah, if it’s social anxiety. Or claustrophobia. But, I just don’t like thinking about dying- or other people dying. I freeze up.”

  “Sounds like you don’t really fancy bein’ left alone.” David says, fairly quiet. Being insightful was never his strongest suit, but he knows a problem when he sees one. It doesn’t take much for Dwight to agree with him, either.

  “I hate it.”

  A longer silence, the two keeping close and fixating on the fact that whatever baggage they’ve been carrying around has been laid at each others feet. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from the dredging of emotion, maybe it’s the sheer relief of letting go. David can’t quite make out why Dwight’s hands begin to shake- grabbing at his sweater with some ragged desperation.

  A panic attack?

  No, not enough curling in on himself, his heart rate still arguably low. He shudders at the touch on his back, and David knows damn well this is the same erratic state he found him in earlier. Except more vulnerable, somehow. He presses his mouth to the top of Dwight’s head, reflexive in his protectiveness. Trying to keep him close and away from whatever eeking panic was trying to make its way through to them.

 “Calm down.” He states, albeit vaguely gruff and unhelpful.“ I’m here, so you know damn well you’re not alone.”  

 “I-“ Dwight starts, hands tensing. “I get that. I know that. Just. Prove to me we’re alive, then. Anything. Show me that despite everything, the shitty booze, the hooks- we’re alive.”

 The command is desperate in it’s tone. Begging for some vindication to snub the irrational fear that trails along with each round of the entity’s game. Desperate to prove there’s hope, or light, or anything that isn’t the unforgiving reality that the loop will never yield. David, for once in his life, is speechless. At least for a few moments.

 The decision to kiss him was another haphazard combination of a sort of adrenaline-drunk and underdeveloped sense of touch starvation. Garnished with the idea that maybe there was something endearing about the smaller, quasi-neurotic man in his arms. The drive to want to do something stupid is there, however, he finds himself trying to do anything to make himself feel alive, too.

 It doesn’t help that he’s a little too into the feeling of tense hands vaguely scratching at his back, like Dwight considers scrambling away. When David pulls back, he’s only met with another, desperation sinking in. David only slightly stumbles forward, an attempt to brace himself against a tree with Dwight between him, slightly pinning him. There’s a small whine, but Dwight keeps particularly close, content enough to relax when David pulls away to get another look at him.

 “Alive enough?” He asks, his tone conveying a bizarre loudness without the sound. He seems proud, almost. Impressed with the energy and the motion of the entire act.

 “For now.” Dwight says, quiet enough to only barely be heard. His hands have stopped shaking, sliding away from David’s back with slight hesitation as he pulls forward. The two let go of eachother, but still stand in close proximity, staring at the small blaze of light flickering between the trees. The silence loses it’s tension, melting into something comfortable. A state of understanding and acceptance in the moment, with fear finally subsiding.

 For now is the state of life in the entity’s realm, where the wind stops howling, for now. The campfire is lit, for now.

  They are all alive, for now.

  And that is good enough.

[juicy-cookie]

Through The Valley - Chapter 16

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10075958/chapters/28547156

Tags: @luke-vaughn @embracetheapocalypsewithme @kinkozan @lupienne @theblack-wolf @lovingzombiechaos @jmackie1983 @dragonracer @miiraal

Pairing: Negan X OFC

Chapter Summary: Sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Gore, Violence, Mention of rape

Word Count: 3983

A/N: I’m terribly sorry that it took me so long to update. Real life got in the way and I am all the more grateful for your continuous support and for every kind word you lovely people have sent my way. 

Negan didn’t know where he was going until he saw light coming from the infirmary. He burst into the room where Fisher was leaning over the stretcher, working on the body in front of him.

The doctor stepped to the side and Negan nearly screamed.

If Carson hadn’t told him that it was Lilly who had been brought in, he wouldn’t have recognized her. She might as well have been a biter. She wore only a thin t-shirt and panties. Both must have been some shade of gray at some point, but were now stained dark red. At least where they weren’t ripped. Her legs were either covered in blood, or in blue-ish green bruises.

The worst was her face, though. The entire right side seemed mutilated. Her eye was swollen shut, her upper lip bleeding, adding to the blood coming from a cut over her brow. The way her hair was plastered to her skull, wet and shiny, told him that she had at least one more head injury.

Lilly seemed disoriented and had obvious difficulties speaking. That didn’t keep her from trying to shove Fisher off her, though.

“Go away! I’m fine,” she mumbled through clenched teeth, her right hand flopping around aimlessly in an attempt to shoo the doctor away. Fisher ignored her and kept prodding and poking, taking advantage of her weakened state and remaining exceptionally calm during his examination.

Despite the lack of panic in the infirmary, Negan felt the cold claws of fear creeping up and down his spine. He still stood in the doorway, jaw hanging open, hands gripping the door frame, eyes frantically scanning the stretcher and the area around it. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t even know where to start.

“Boss…?”

Negan spun around. Carson and Andrei stood in the hallway, the former looking at him expectantly, awaiting orders, the latter tired and fearful.

“What the fuck happened? Who did this?” Negan had meant to shout, but all that came out of him was something between a whisper and a growl.

Andrei ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I don’t know any specifics, man. I got to the outpost real late. Look, I know we’re not supposed to be out there after dark, but…” Negan waved a hand at him impatiently to show that he didn’t give a fuck right now. “Anyway… I got there late and everyone was already asleep, but Carson had told me that you want me to look after her, so I went to her room and she wasn’t there. I went looking for her and heard noises coming from the basement and that’s where I found those two degenerates all over her.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know Negan. I shot them, grabbed her and got the fuck outta there. Took a car, too. Couldn’t bring her here on my bike. It’s still at the outpost. I’ll bring the car back tomorrow and go get my bike. Shit, man, I thought she’d die on me on the way here. Thought she was bleeding out or something. I’m sorry about those guys, boss, I didn’t know what else to do. She was kicking and screaming and they were punching her. I just pulled the trigger, I didn’t…”

“Stop it,” Negan interrupted Andrei’s ramblings, “You did the right thing. Did me a big fucking favor, too. Otherwise I would have had to drive all the way back there and fuck those fuckers up myself.” He turned back towards the door and watched with furrowed brows as Fisher set up an IV.

“Sir?” Carson piped up behind him. “Do you want me to wake up Jax?”

Negan hoped that Jax would wait with killing him until they knew if Lilly would live.

“Yeah… yeah. Go get him. Laura, too.”

He listened to Carson’s receding steps as he ran down the hallway and tried to focus on the situation in front of him again. His mind seemed to slip away whenever his gaze came to rest on the bloody figure on the bed. He vaguely registered Andrei talking about a delay at the western outpost and how he was sorry that he hadn’t been at the northern one in time to prevent this mess.

Fisher cleared his throat, trying to gain Negan’s attention. He looked up at him, hoping for the doctor’s sake that he had good news. Negan didn’t know what he would do if he got told that Lilly didn’t have long. He couldn’t take out his rage and guilt on the actual culprits and he couldn’t guarantee not to shift the blame elsewhere.

“She’s asleep now. I gave her a hefty dose of morphine.”

Negan stepped into the infirmary, his eyes back on Lilly’s now still form. Fisher had covered her with one of the coarse gray blankets they kept for newcomers who couldn’t afford better sleeping arrangements. Negan made a mental note to get her something more comfortable. Standing in front of the stretcher and with her eyes closed and her face still, he could now see the true extent of her injuries. Bruises started to bloom underneath the crusted blood. Negan felt the overwhelming urge to punch someone. Instead, he lightly grasped her hand sticking out from under the blanket.

He wanted to ask Fisher how she was doing, but the sound of thundering footsteps running up the hallway announced Jax’s arrival. He and Andrei entered the room together with Andrei recounting what he had already told Negan. Where Negan had gotten quiet and withdrawn at the sight of a bruised and battered Lilly, Jax seemed to switch into let’s-get-busy mode, after drawing in a sharp breath at the first sight of her. He couldn’t quite hide the look of horror at the sight of her injuries, though.

“Okay, so they’re dead, right? What now? Fisher, how is she?” Jax turned his attention to the doctor, conveniently ignoring the elephant in the room that was the entirety of Negan’s presence. Fisher had positioned his chair at Lilly’s head and was busy using a thread and needle on her.

“Well…” Fisher sighed. “She got beaten up pretty bad. I’m gonna put stitches on those wounds over her eye and on the back of her head. She’s got at least one broken rib and a broken nose, maybe her jaw, too. The thing is… there could be internal bleeding. Her blood pressure is okay for now, but I can’t be absolutely sure without an ultrasound. I’ll just have to monitor her for now.”

Jax looked stricken at the news and Negan knew that he probably mirrored his expression, but any further enquiries were delayed by Laura bursting into the room and subsequently into tears when she caught sight of her friend lying on the stretcher. Seth and Connor were right behind her and the room was now packed with people.

“Oh God! Lilly! What happened?”

Another round of people explaining what had happened and Negan’s mind started to wander again. She would need a blanket and pillow, water to wash off the blood, fresh clothes and then soft food. He’d have to talk meds and equipment with Fisher and then maybe organize a run to get everything Lilly needed to get better.

He became aware of the fact that he was still holding her hand, lightly stroking her fingers, when he heard the word “rape” coming from Jax and his attention was catapulted back to the here and now, feeling as if all air had left his lungs.

“What did you say?” Negan focused on Jax standing on the opposite side of the bed.

“I asked Andrei what exactly they did to her. Lil told me about the lewd comments and I’ve warned you that those assholes had it in for her.” Jax’s look was one of pure blame, before he turned to Andrei again.

“I don’t know, man. Everything happened so fast. But I didn’t catch them with their dicks out and their pants around their ankles, if that’s what you mean.”

“She only mentioned the beatings,” Fisher added, “She couldn’t tell me much, obviously, but she didn’t say anything about sexual assault. I’m reluctant to examine her without her consent. I’d recommend to wait until she gets better and then talk to her.”

Negan was a second away from giving the order to burn down the entire outpost when Lilly moaned something unintelligible, twisted her head and brushed her finger over Negan’s hand.

“Is there anything we can do for her?” Laura asked from the foot of the bed. She wasn’t crying anymore, but Seth still held her by her shoulders as if she was close to having a breakdown.

“Not really. She needs rest and observation. I’ll stay with her and you can all go back and try to get some sleep,” Fisher offered, packing away the suture tools.

“No.” Negan had finally found his voice again, despite it sounding foreign in his ears. “She hates sleeping in a room with people she doesn’t know well. I’ll stay with her. Anything happens, I’ll come get you, Fisher. The rest of you, go back to sleep.”

Laura looked like she wanted to protest, but Seth gently steered her towards the door, whispering reassuring words to her. Connor followed with Andrei and Fisher knew better than to question his leader’s orders, after his fuck-up with the Hilltop.

Only Jax didn’t move a muscle, staring intently at Negan.

“I know I fucked up. I’m man enough to admit it. But she needs us now, so do me a fucking favor and save it for when she’s better. I won’t leave, Jax, no fucking way.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you leave. Watching over her is the least you can do.”

Negan felt relieved. There was no way he would let Lilly out of his sight, but fighting with her best friend about it was something he would gratefully avoid. He let go of her hand for a moment to get a chair from the corner and positioned it right next to her bed. With a sigh, he carefully sat down. His experience with flimsy hospital chairs told him not to move too much in his seat. “Well, plant your ass in the other chair, or get back to your room, I don’t give a shit.”

Jax seemed reluctant and watched as Negan took Lilly’s hand back in his, before looking towards the door. Connor was probably waiting for him, but Negan was too tired and fresh out of fucks to give to even turn around and acknowledge him.

“I’ll try to get a couple more hours of sleep. To be honest, it’s hard to see her this way, but I’ll come back first thing in the morning to relieve you.” Negan almost scoffed and thought that Jax could try, but he was determined to not leave her side. “Listen, Negan…”

“I told you not to start fucking bitching at me tonight, Jax.”

“I wasn’t. Listen…” Jax leaned over Lilly’s sleeping form and lowered his voice. “Fisher said that we would have to wait until morning. That he can’t tell how bad she’s injured with the equipment he has and that she might have internal bleeding. You know what that means, right?” Negan nodded, not taking his eyes off her face. “Lilly and I have a pact. Made it a long time ago. That if possible, we’d try everything we can to not let the other turn. If you want to stay here, you have to promise me to do it. I know she’s tough. I know she can make it through this shit. But if something happens… You have to swear that you will end it before she comes back as one of those things.”

Negan looked up at the other man. Jax’s eyes were fearful and desperate, exactly the way Negan felt.

“I promise.”

Negan heard the door shut behind him and the Sanctuary plunged into silence again. It felt weird to know that all those people around him were sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware that the woman he cared so much for was possibly fighting for her life.

He stood up again and walked over to the counter and cabinets, opening and closing drawers until he found a scalpel with a blade that was hopefully long enough to reach the brain when stuck through the eye. His expression grim, he sat back down on the rickety old chair and carefully placed the scalpel under his seat, before taking Lilly’s hand again. The movement was a familiar one, more comforting for him than for the person lying in the hospital bed.

His other hand ran through his hair and the sigh that followed almost turned into a sob.

“I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn fucking sorry, Lil. This is just one of about a thousand different reasons why you have to wake the fuck up and get better… that you are going to have the fucking privilege of kicking my stupid ass all the way to Michigan for being the world’s biggest idiot.

“I could go look for your family while I’m there. You never told me why you never went looking for them. Though it was probably because of the distance. And the odds of finding them, and finding them alive, are pretty fucking slim. Yeah… would have been stupid to try to go there. And you’re far from fucking stupid. Unlike me.

“Listen to me fucking rambling. I do that when I’m nervous. But you already know that, don’t you? You could see through my bullshit from day fucking one. Just… just don’t let this be the last day, okay?”

He couldn’t stop looking at her face. He felt that if he stopped talking, he would break down completely, so he just kept going.

“Jax and Laura wanted to rip me a new one just now. Pretty sure they’re far from done. Maybe you can put a leash on them once you get better. Or not. I mean, I know I fucked up. I tend to do that with the women I love. And then they end up in a fucking hospital bed.”

A chuckle rose in his throat, rendered hoarse by the occasional tear spilling from his eyes.

“There you fucking go. I can finally admit my fucking feelings and you’re not even awake to hear it. See? Another reason you have to get better. I’ll tell you everything when you wake up. About the wives, too. I mean, I don’t expect everything to be fucking perfect and for us to live happily ever after or some shit. But living would be nice, for a start. And then we’ll work on the happy part.”

Negan took a shaky breath and watched Lilly’s face. Her brows were furrowed. He hoped that she didn’t feel too much pain. Lifting her hand, he brought it to his lips, brushing them over her knuckles. He closed his eyes for a moment. The whole weight of tonight’s events started to bare down on him and he felt ten years older, hungover and tired.

“I promise, I’ll try not to fuck it up this time, Lilly. I won’t make the same mistakes I made with Lucille. You’ll see. Just get better, okay?”

His eyes grew heavy and he felt himself dozing off every few minutes, waking up with a start any time Lilly moved or made a noise in her sleep. He had promised to take care of her if the worst happened, but would he have the guts to do it this time?

“You better not die on me, Lil,” he mumbled as his head sunk down on the mattress next to her thigh.

He woke up again to someone nudging his shoulder and he groggily sat up and turned around to find Jax standing next to him. Outside, the sun made a feeble attempt to rise out of the gray and rainy clouds. Fisher was up and present, too, already working on Lilly, who he could now see had her eyes slightly open. She looked weak, but alive.

Negan rubbed over the stubble on his cheeks, fighting the urge to lie back down and get back to sleep.

“Her vitals look good,” Fisher said after removing the stethoscope from his ears and the blood pressure cuff from her arms, “I’m going to give her more pain meds. It’s all we can do, really, at the moment. If some cuts and broken ribs are all she got, she just needs to rest for a couple of days. ”

“You mean aside from the emotional fucking trauma she’ll probably have from getting the shit beaten out of her?” Negan snarled.

“Shhh, hey! Calm down!” Jax said in a low voice, “We’re gonna deal with that when we have to. For now, Fisher is right. She needs rest. And you, too.” he motioned to Negan.

“I just took a fucking nap when I shouldn’t have.”

“And I bet that was really comfortable and refreshing. Come on, I told you I would take over. Looks like she’s fine for now and you won’t be of use to anyone walking around like a biter. Go get some more sleep.”

Negan didn’t want to. The thought of leaving Lilly, even with Jax and Fisher staying, filled him with dread. But Jax was right. He still had a community to run, even if all he wanted to do right now was stay with Lilly until she could be by his side again.

He reluctantly got up and told Jax to get him if there was any change in her. Jax seemed much less hostile this morning and even thanked him for watching over her.

After checking one last time with Fisher that Lilly was stable and seeing her asleep again, he made his way to Carson first. Negan gave him instructions about running the Sanctuary in his absence and placed an order for blankets, clothes and warm water with his assistant and told him to make sure the infirmary wouldn’t be swarmed with concerned Saviors come breakfast. The lieutenants, Jax and Andrei were allowed inside her room. No one else. No exceptions.

While he climbed the stairs up to the Penthouse, he heard the Sanctuary come to life below him. People making their way to the cafeteria or the showers and he shut them all out by closing the door to his room. The busy murmur downstairs, while still audible, was now drowned by the heavy rain that had set in over the course of the morning.

Convinced that he wouldn’t be able to sleep for even a minute, he still took a quick trip to the bathroom and then settled down on his bed, fully clothed and over the covers. Apparently, Lilly’s improved health had been enough to relax him a little, since it didn’t even take two minutes for him to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When he woke up again, the light outside told him that it had to be afternoon already and a quick glance to the clock over his fireplace confirmed it. He had slept for six hours straight and he felt refreshed, grateful, anxious and furious, all at the same time. Negan tried to convince himself that if something had happened in his absence, someone would have come to get him..

He still felt nervous when he made his way back downstairs to the infirmary, stubbornly ignoring the rumbling coming from his stomach. He needed to check on Lilly first, before he could sit down in peace for a meal. Maybe he could have a late lunch in the infirmary, preferably with her awake and trying to have a bite, too.

When he turned around the corner into the hallway where the infirmary was located, he could hear low voices coming from the room. One of them was clearly Lilly’s. His heart grew three sizes. If she already felt well enough to have a conversation, then she would surely be okay, right?

Feeling much more optimistic at the thought of having lunch with a conscious and talking Lilly, Negan peered into the room. She was still lying on the stretcher, but covered in a soft and warm blanket now and wearing fresh clothes. What he could see of her face, neck and hands was clean, albeit still shockingly bruised and, in the case of her eye and lips, swollen and sporting grisly wounds. Negan grimaced at the sight of her injuries, which stood out more prominently, without the blood and grime hiding them. Jax and Laura were sitting on either side of her, listening to her talking, all three smiling slightly at whatever the topic of their conversation was.

Negan put on a grin and stepped into the infirmary. “Well, someone looks about a thousand fucking times better than last night. You nearly gave us all a collective heart attack.”

The atmosphere in the room changed immediately. Lilly, Jax and Laura turned silent and their faces fell, each of them avoiding his gaze. After a couple of awkward moments, Jax got up and cleared his throat. “We, uhm… we’re going to give you guys a minute or two. We’ll be back later with more food, Lil.” Lilly looked like she wanted to protest, but Jax turned to Laura and motioned for her to come with him. Laura followed him out of the infirmary, but not without shooting a glare at Negan that was clearly meant to try to make him drop dead.

Negan took Jax’s place at the side of her bed, still keeping his grin firmly in place and pointing a thumb behind him. “What’s up with those two? Looked like they have to pee real urgent.” His attempt at humor didn’t seem to go over well. Lilly merely regarded him out of her healthy eye, her expression rendered nearly unreadable by her injuries. “What? Did the same cat get your tongue, too? Because I just saw you talking a second ago.”

Lilly averted her eyes, her face now unmistakingly grim. “What do you want me to say, Negan?” she finally said. Her voice was thin and her speech a little slurred.

“How about you start with how you feel, work your way up to what Fisher said and end somewhere along ‘It’s good to be home’?” Negan tried to make eye contact with her again, but she kept staring out of the window. He thought that maybe she tried to come up with some witty answers to his questions, until he noticed the tears running down her cheeks. “Oh shit. Babe, are you okay? Do you need more pain meds? I can go get Fisher…”

“No, Negan. I don’t need more pain meds.”

“Well, what is it then? What do you need? I’ll get you any-fucking-thing, just say the word!”

She turned her head to look him straight in the eyes and his smile faltered at the intensity of her gaze.

“I need you to leave.”

“Wh-what?”

“I need you to go and leave me the hell alone.”

“Lilly, come on…”

“No.”

“Look, I’m sorry…”

“No! I don’t want to hear it. I begged you, Negan. I fucking begged you not to send me away. You knew Sherry and Amber planned all this. And you still sent me away.” Lilly strained to talk through the obvious pain and her tears still hadn’t stopped. Negan dropped his gaze. “No! Look at me, Negan!” He obeyed. “Look at my face! You did this. This is your fault.”

“I know. Believe me, I fucking know, Lilly.”

“I need you to leave. Now. And stay the fuck away from me.”

“Okay…,” he whispered before standing up and walking out of the room.

He wandered aimlessly through the Sanctuary. At first he felt completely numb, and then an  increasing need for a bottle of Scotch.

He never heard the wrecking sobs coming from the infirmary.

[chronal-anomaly]

This was originally supposed to be short drabble for @slingerscng but now it’s over 2k words and four pages long so. Thank you, Ember for dealing with my weird questions bc you’re one of my favorite McCrees and I stole a lil bit of him for this I’m sorry ;;

This is set in Blackwatch days, too. 

Also this is sorta inspired by that one fanart of Jesse tied to a wooden pole and beat up but I can’t find it. If someone could link it I’d be ecstatic! 

Trigger warning for torture, blood, medical torture.. I think that’s it but let me know if I need to tag anything else. 

“Pathetic.”

Wide fingers gripped at his jawline, digging into the bruises already left there. Hard eyes full of hatred stared down at Jesse, who met the gaze unwaveringly. No matter the pain that lit every nerve, no matter the amount of torture they put him through, McCree had never lost the mildly amused, cocky twitch to his lips.

               The brute that had been assigned for his abuse that day left his limited sightline, placing the cowboy on edge. Behind him, something clattered. As coolly as possible, Jesse turned his head against the rope that had been slipped around his neck like a noose, meant to hold his head as straight as possible. It gave little to his movements, instead pressing against his throat until he found himself short of breath. Jesse would have to simply wait to see what they had in store for him when they decided they were good and ready. He settled in to count the seconds.

               Finally, after the seconds of his life ticked away, the brute returned. He was met with a relaxed stare, the infuriating half-grin still dominating McCree’s face. Though Jesse’s body burned from the sheer abuse it had sustained—bruises, burns and long lacerations dominating the already-scared surface—he refused to quit his childish act, and was far from giving them the information that they demanded of him. Something would have to give eventually though, lest he be driven insane.

               “Gabriel Reyes. What’s his next move?” Clutched tight in one hand, a set of jumper cables that snaked around the pole Jesse remained lashed tightly to, connected to a power source somewhere in the darkness. The gunslinger resisted a shudder, only barely covering the soul-shaking fear with the mocking grin. “One last chance,” the brute repeated, sparking the plugs against each other. This time, he winced. Blackwatch had trained him hard and well, taught him to take pain and abuse well beyond what many could dish out. This was beyond anything that he had ever imagined.

               His response was a tight wad of blood and spit, landing directly in the brute’s face. With a growl, he surged forward, pressing the cables directly against exposed skin of Jesse’s core.

               There was an ungodly screech as he thrashed, fighting against the rough rope that held him tight to the wood post. Fresh blood burned bright against the darkened skin as the delicate skin around his wrists was broken. It was only when blood dripped from McCree’s nose that the brute released the electric current, pulling back and grinning at the mess that was Jesse McCree.

               Jesse sagged against the rope, facing the ground. For a moment, the cocky façade fell to reveal the extent of the torture that had been inflicted on him. His captor grinned victoriously, moving in to grip at his jaw again, pulling that terrified face up, just to spit back into it. The gunslinger didn’t flinch; perhaps he was even used to it. “Blackwatch plans, McCree. Just tell us, and we’ll let you go.”

               He took a staggering breath in, attempting to refocus wandering eyes. Jesse wasn’t sure if he was fit to spell his name, let alone explain the highly-confidential and complex plans of the organization. The grin was carefully reconstructed, prepared, before he put it back on. And just like that, Jesse McCree had replaced the mask that 14 volts of electricity had shattered.

               “M’boss is sure gonna be mad atcha’. This was the prettiest face he had in Blackwatch.”

               The man hissed in disgust and snapped a punch in toward Jesse’s core. There was an audible snap and a faint, pained exhale of air that announced the broken rib. Frustrated, his tormenter flipped off the dim, single bulb in the cell and slammed the door behind him. Alone, Jesse took advantage of the brief peace to slide his eyes closed and silently pray for God, or Gabe, or both, to deliver him home.

               They moved him at some point while he was unconscious. Instead of the dusty basement that had been Jesse’s cell for the week that had passed, white walls and the cool smell of antiseptic surround him. Kinda like Angela, he noted absently. Without the torture, of course.

               Somewhere above his head, two people conversed. One, the large brute from earlier, and the other was a quieter, more feminine voice. None less vicious, though. This wasn’t salvation, just a fresh form of hell. Desolate and suffering, Jesse let out his first protest in the form of a long groan as the tender skin of his skull fell back on the cold metal table. The newest prison.

               The woman shoo’d the brute away, who simply growled at Jesse as he passed. She clipped over, staring down with gray eyes that betrayed nothing. A lock of graying brown hair slipped from the tight, military style bun. There were smiling lines, and thin lips that pursed into a scowling smile. She was not a nice woman, he could tell that right off the bat. More pain would come to him, perhaps worse than the man and his jumper cables.

               There was a smile that Jesse swore made his teeth rot. Yellowed, organized teeth shone as she tightened a buckle on his wrist and ankle restraints. “Jesse McCree. Son of Carmen Sandovol and Malcolm McCree.  Delinquent. Runt of a gang. Picked up by—“A wetted finger flipped the page of her clipboard, retrieved from a nearby counter—“Marcus Rucks.” She stuck out a hand, finger still glistening, before wincing dramatically at his binds and dropping the narrow digits to her side. “I’m Dr. Orbe.”

               McCree couldn’t deny the small wave of terror that shivered through him as she rattled off facts that not even Gabe was allowed. No longer was he simply McCree, the deadly gunslinger. He was Jesse, a simple man that enjoyed a simple life and in the long run, didn’t want much trouble in life. The mask slipped some, revealing the doubt in both himself and those that relied on him to keep the secrets that rattled under those dark locks.

               “Don’t suppose yer gonna’ let me outta here.” Jesse mumbled, squeezing both eyes shut. “Be real good for m’health to not be tortured.”

               “No, the opposite, unfortunately.” Her voice didn’t reflect the sentiment as a vial was retrieved, red liquid sloshing in the glass tub. An IV that had been missed early was retrieved, Dr. Orbe aligning the needle with the clear tubing. “This is Acetonitrile. It’s not meant to hurt you in small doses, but this is three times the recommended dose. It’s going to hurt, Jesse. I suggest you tell me what we need to know now, before I use it. The thrashing is going to make it damn near impossible to return your ribs to their proper condition.”

               Tanned skin paled at the sight of the needle, so close to the IV. No longer was McCree dominating his mind, the idea of a man that couldn’t care about life nor death or what came first. It was Jesse, a ten-year-old with a dead daddy and an imprisoned mother. He was Jesse, who turned to killing as a necessary part of life, who cried silently over every expelled bullet and downed man. But Jesse was still devoted to Blackwatch and those that pulled him out of a life of a downward spiral.

               “I don’t gotta tell ya where he is.” Jesse carefully took in a breath, all too aware of the faint burn of broken ribs. “ ‘cuz he’s gonna be here. T’ get me out. Then you gotta deal with him and believe me, he ain’t gonna be happy if you’re gonn’ be injecting some kinda’ Aceton in me.”

               The doctor shook her head, but wouldn’t deny the vicious look that resided in the creases of her face. “You’re making a mistake, Jesse.” She offered him one last nightmare-inducing smile before setting his very blood on fire.

               His first instinct was to freeze. The drug crawled through his veins slowly, turning the blue into a dark, rich purple that stood out in sharp relief against the tanned muscles. Nothing appeared to happen for a moment, both Jesse and the doctor waiting apprehensively. Finally, it struck. A faint moan forced itself from his hoarse throat, McCree tightening against the tight bounds that held him. Both eyes squeezed shut, worn teeth gnashed as he struggled. Mumbled groans quickly turned to faint whines and whimpers, and finally into full blown screams. His very blood was set alight, the drug burning through his flesh and bones. Jesse was melting, he was convinced. There would be no escape from this, not when the fire burned him from the inside out.

               “I’ll be back soon enough to give your next dose.” The doctor clipped out, a satisfied shrug to her shoulders.

               Jesse screamed until his voice broke.

The next time someone came in, McCree had slowly reformed his resolve. The poison had worked itself from his system, filtered through his liver until only traces remained. There would be no way that they would get Blackwatch’s movements, no way that he would give up Gabe. No matter the amount of shit and manipulation that Gabe and the others had put him through, Jesse was simply too stubborn to release that crucial information.

A thick noise resounded against the floor, the sound of several heavy boots clattering against the clean tile. Much different than the click-clack of the woman’s heels. Brown eyes flickered open warily, pulling gently against the noose that remained around his neck to keep his head straight. He searched the ceiling above him for the source of the sudden change. Last time there had been change, McCree had ended up with the evil doctor. Whatever fresh hell that they had prepared for him, Jesse was uncertain of how much more his body could take.

“Jesse?” Came the incredulous growl that made McCree flinch. The boots darted closer, McCree tensing in preparation for the incoming blows. Instead, a familiar face floated above him. Fear was an emotion that Jesse had never seen on Gabe’s face, and decided right there that he would avoid causing the man any more disconcert right there. “You good, cowboy?”

Gabe moved, ripping the knife from his belt. Involuntarily, Jesse flinched as he went somewhere above his head to saw at the rope that constantly choked him. Below him, Genji released the shackles, freeing legs that had long since gone numb. Soon enough, his wrists were released and Gabe helped Jesse to raise to a sitting position. Blood, pus, and embarrassingly enough, tears, leaked from his form. Someone pressed a cloth against his face, wiping away the stray fluids; Gabe let out a quiet noise as the broken man leaned into the hold.

               “I’m good, boss.” His voice rasped quietly, torn apart by earlier screams. “Ya’sure took a long time gettin’ here.”

               “You lived. Can you walk?” Gabe straightened up, leaving the rag in Jesse’s hand. He slipped between the two personas with scary ease. “C’mon, kid, we’re going to get you outta here.”

               His head swam as he nodded. Gabe gripped at one shoulder while Genji wrapped his arm around the other. Carefully, they pulled the man from the table, only narrowly catching him from falling to the unforgiving ground below. Boots dragged against the ground, unable to support his body weight. Thankfully enough, Gabe and Genji managed to carry Jesse out to the waiting transport truck outside. There would be punishments later, Gabe making him run until he puked or something similar, for slipping up and getting himself captured. For now, though, it was time for healing. It was time for Jesse to rest, to watch old westerns until he hated the sound of John Wayne’s voice and play board games with the new girl, Oxton, until she twitched weird and ruined the board. It was time for him to go home and heal and get right back out into the field to do it all over again.

Jesse fell asleep on the ride home and didn’t wake up again until Mercy was standing above him, asking him this and that about his injuries. Once her fussing had been satisfied, Jesse fell back asleep.  

[lexiauteur]

Noble Reign

Ch.3 Mystic Messenger Middle Ages AU

|Ch. 1| |Ch. 2|

Author’s Note: Yay it’s done! ^^ Sorry it took me such a long time, I had a lot of exams coming up and it was so stressful. But I did it and I’m proud. ^^ I ended up splitting my initial script into 2 chapters. The first half is this chapter and the second half is going to be chapter 4. I also hope you like the prologue for this one, it’s super long and angsty AS HELL! I listened to My Immortal by Evanescence to really get those emotions going and I also cried my ass off to make it extra sad. So if you wanna cry, please go ahead and do so, this chapter is perfect for heartaches, and any other kind of emotional pain. Hope you like it. <3

Special thanks to @frywen-babbles. <- This cutie always replies to my posts and encourages me to keep up my work. Go leave some love on her blog, she deserves it. <3

Warnings: ANGST, VIOLENCE, DEATH (could be triggering, read at own risk)

Wordcount: 2,457

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears And I held your hand through all of these years But you still have all of me

Diary entry, 21st March 1231

I will never forget the screams and cries of the men who died today. They echo through my ears, again and again, as if to remind me that I should have died with them.

I remember it was raining that day. My clothes were soaked within minutes and I was freezing. It was early in the morning as we marched on to the battlefield; a thick layer of fog was still hovering above the ground. My feet sank into the mud repeatedly and my hands were shaking, making it difficult to hold up the heavy iron sword.

I cannot remember how long we waited for something to happen. Perhaps only a few hours, but it felt like an eternity. The rain lashed against my back, and drips of water were running down the bridge of my nose. My eyes were focused on the horizon, the still image burning itself into my head.

Until the wave of men which suddenly appeared from behind the hills interrupted the peaceful scenery. The fog made it hard to see, but I could tell that there were at least a thousand. And as they were running down, swords raised up high above their heads, I knew we wouldn't survive. More and more came down the hills, it just wouldn't stop. People started moving around me, preparing to attack... But my body was frozen. And before I knew it, I was in the middle of war.

I didn’t count how many men I slaughtered down that day. My initial fear had turned into indifference and once I started, I couldn't stop. It became easier with every blow; maybe because I was fighting for my life. Instead of water, blood was soaking my uniform, the distinct coppery smell filling my nose with every breath I took. At some point, my sense of time had disappeared. Maybe because of the adrenaline rush. I neither felt hungry, nor did I feel cold; I just felt this emptiness inside of me that seemed to devour my existence.

The sickening sound of metal slicing through flesh, the moans and cries of dying men; sounds that already felt familiar. The cruelty and violence of war had changed me and I couldn’t recognize myself. Still, something on the field felt out of place but I couldn't quite figure out what it was.

Not until someone stepped into my sight, a woman appearing in the middle of the battlefield. Dressed in a magnificent gown, it was obvious she didn't belong here. But sword and shield adorned her clothing, and just like the rest of us she was drenched in blood.

I stared at her and it felt like the world stopped moving. Her gaze was so strong that her green eyes felt like needles piercing through my skin. I was enthralled by her beauty, but at the same time I knew that pure evilness stood right in front of me. She walked towards me but I couldn't move, hell, I couldn't even think.

She effortlessly raised her sword, the blade glistening with fresh blood. I tried to avoid her blow, but she was fast and it grazed my face. I remember the cool metal slicing through my flesh, but I didn’t feel any pain. Only the warm liquid that ran down the side of my cheek. And then everything went dark.

I fell to the ground. I felt weak; my legs couldn't support my weight any longer. The pain kicked in and I thought this was the end. I thought I would join my comrades, whose lifeless bodies were distributed all across the field. Tears were running down my face, burning inside the wound.

She towered above me, preparing for her final blow. I lifted my head, searching her eyes for mercy. But there was not even a hint of humanity left in her soul. I prayed to God, asking for mercy and forgiveness for all the men I had murdered, for all the suffering I brought upon their families. But my fate was already sealed and so I turned my face away. I remember the sun peeking through the clouds one last time, blessing my soul with warmth.

Now my soul was at peace and I waited for the metal to pierce my heart. I closed my eyes. But nothing happened. There was no pain, no blood leaving my veins. I slowly opened my eyes again.

A man had lunged at her and shoved her to the side, causing both of them to fall into the mud. He quickly stood up again and gave me his hand, “Come on boy, let’s get outta here.” Quickly coming back to my senses, I accepted his offer without hesitation. He pulled me up and we started running.

I stumbled after him, running into men and getting dangerously close to swinging blades. He took my hand, never leaving my side and together we had almost reached the forest. But then I tripped and fell. I quickly picked myself up again and motioned him to continue running but he didn’t move.

Confused, I looked at him and my eyes widened with shock. There was blood soaking his uniform. His own blood. The blade was still jutting out of his stomach, the green-eyed woman behind him. She grinned and pulled out her sword. Then she vanished as fast as she came. Blood started gushing out of the wound and he fell into the mud.

I couldn't breathe. My mind was clouded; I didn't know what to do. I knelt down beside him, pressing my hands to the wound to stop the bleeding. I frantically looked for help, screaming my lungs out. But no one listened.

The man patted my back. “It's alright boy, it's alright… Don't worry about me”, he said to me as he struggled breathing. But it wasn't alright. He was dying and I couldn’t do anything to save him.

“No, I'm not giving up on you! I’ll find someone-“

My whole body was shaking. The sun disappeared behind the clouds again, turning the sky grey. “Listen to me…” the man touched my arm, “What's your name boy?” I stared into his eyes.

“Jihyun”, I responded.

“Jihyun, listen to me” he tightly grabbed my wrist, “I… have a daughter. She already lost her mother.” He coughed blood. “Please, protect her. I won't be there, she doesn't have anyone.” He swallowed. “Tell her I love her.”

A single tear ran down the side of his face. Then his eyes turned cloudy, his face turned pale. He breathed in and out and in... and stopped. His firm grip on my wrist loosened and his arm fell to the side. I panicked, violently shaking his lifeless body. But he was long gone. Tears welled up in my eyes.

I couldn't even thank him. I felt heavy with guilt, he had given his life for my own, a boy he didn't even know. Numbness spread through my body and all my pain was gone.

I silently promised him that he wouldn't regret saving me.

I will protect his daughter, even if I have to give my life for her.

She awoke in an unfamiliar chamber lying on the ground. Her limbs felt numb; she couldn't move, even if she wanted to. Her throat felt dry and her vision was blurry. Then there was this faint voice in the distance calling to her but she couldn't make out the words. Her mind was telling her to go back to sleep, she was so dizzy and it was easier to give in, but the cold floor and the voice kept waking her up. The voice became louder and it started to sound familiar. She slowly opened her eyes but her blurry vision was preventing her from seeing anything.

“Hey! You alright?” Someone was kneeling beside her. The room was dark but she could tell it was Saeyoung. She tried to sit up and a sharp pain shot through her head, causing her to cry out.

“Whe-re…?” Her voice cracked.

“Don't speak! You're throat is pretty soar. If you keep your mouth shut for a little while, it'll heal in no time”, he cut her off. “You really are trouble, huh…” He smiled and ruffled through her hair, then helped her to sit up. Fay instantly felt better. The warmth radiating from Saeyoung’s skin somehow cleared up her mind. And although they haven't known each other for a long time, she was glad that someone accompanied her.

Her hands ghosted over her throat, a dull pain was pulsing up into her head and mixed with the sharp aching of her skull.

“Man, he got you real good, didn't he…” Saeyoung gently grabbed her chin and looked her over, bruises and purple marks covering her entire neck. “Silly girl… What’d you even do down there?” he asked, a caring smile on his lips. “Don't worry, you're gonna be fine” he assured her.

She remembered the dungeons, the cells, and everything came back. Eyes wide, she gave him a questioning look.

“How’d you get here you mean?” She nodded. She could remember the cold walls of the basement and the maniacal grin of the old man, but after that her memory was blank.

“Well… I was already on my way back out of the dungeons, escaping,” he explained, “when I heard someone screaming. I’m the defender of justice so of course I had to go back and see what it was. And well, there you were, already passed out on the ground. I thought you were dead and so I had to do some… ‘actions’ to bring you back you know…” He provoked her. That cocky smile she knew so well returned to his face. Realizing what he meant, she went pale and slapped his shoulder.

“Hey! I could’ve let you die, you know! At least a little ‘thank you Saeyoung’ would be nice”, he snapped. Pouting, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Oh. Forgot you can’t speak”, he snickered, provoking her even more. But to his surprise, she didn't slap him, but instead wrapped her arms around his neck and tightly hugged him. She was indeed thankful; he did save her life after all.

Caught off guard, he didn’t have anything to retort, his cocky grin wiped off his face. He was glad she couldn't see him because his cheeks were bright red. He hugged her back, pressing her body against his warm chest. Although he felt a little uncomfortable, it was nice to have someone close.

After an awkward moment of silence, they quickly parted and Fay urged him to go on. Saeyoung cleared his throat and continued.

“After you were breathing again, I picked you up and carried you to the exit. I thought the air was clear and we could make it out, until the guards appeared. Long story short, they caught me escaping and took both of us into this room.”

Suddenly the door flung open. The King entered and his presence silenced up the room. Fay and Saeyoung quickly stood up, dusting off their dirtied clothes. Fay almost fell over again because her head was so dizzy, but she bit her lip and steadied her feet. She knew she will probably be punished for sneaking around the dungeons and she couldn't allow herself to weaken in front of the King.

King Jumin didn't even say a word as he went further into the small room; a frown was deepening his silver eyes. He came up to Fay, grabbing her chin and turning her head to get a better look at her bruises. Fay flinched at his sudden touch but remained still. His frown deepened even more as he saw the purple marks scattered all over her throat, an almost painful look on his face. His fingers ghosted over her skin, examining every mark.

“You're in big trouble little maiden”, he whispered for only her to hear, his hot breath grazing her ear. She turned her head and squinted over at Saeyoung, her eyes meeting his sour expression. “But I actually need you,” the King continued, “and it would be a shame if I never saw that pretty smile of yours ever again, don't you think?” His frown turned into a seductive grin before he finally pulled away. Fay shivered, a chill running down her spine. King Jumin was a powerful man and his presence alone was intimidating enough.

The door opened again, Assistant Kang and Commander V entered the small chamber. And following behind them was no other than Yoosung, his hands uncontrollably shaking with fear. The air suddenly became so tense, someone could actually cut it.

“Well,” King Jumin began to break the silence, “now that everyone is finally gathered together in this rather unsuitable place, I'm able to announce the great news.” He looked around the room and Fay's eyes met with his piercing gaze. Scared, she quickly took Saeyoung's hand, squeezing it tightly, but withstood the urge to avert her eyes. Saeyoung squeezed back, his hand feeling cold and damp with perspiration.

‘This is the end. I will be hanged for sneaking around the dungeons, trying to free a criminal. What a stupid and embarrassing way to die, Fay! You're father would be disappointed in you. I can't believe this is happening…’

“At first, I did intend to hang both of you; him-” King Jumin pointed at Saeyoung, “for touching my horse and stealing salted honey tartlets, and you-” he looked at Fay, “for sneaking around forbidden areas. But I cherish your curiosity and braveness, valuable qualities that none of my guards seem to own.”

The King urged his commander to continue his speech. Commander V stepped forward, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “Our majesty, Adviser Kang and I discussed the issue and came to the conclusion that it would be best to send these three on the mission to Mint Eye.”

The King was pleased with their decision and nodded in his direction. The tension of Fay’s shoulders relieved and she was brimming over with mirth. The moment she waited all her life for finally came true. She looked over at Saeyoung, beaming with pride, but he was as pale as a ghost. Confused, she gave him a questioning look. But the commander started speaking again.

“As both punishment and blessing, this road will decide their final destiny” Commander V announced. Eyes widening with shock, Fay finally realized that her dream could turn into a nightmare.

[marypsue]

So I guess this is happening. cw for canon-typical alcohol abuse and mention of suicide. 

Suggested listening: 'Shampain' by Marina and the Diamonds, 'Cut The Body Loose' by Astronautalis.

...

Jerry makes sure to slam the study door behind him, like the self-absorbed child he is, doing his best to share his bad mood with the rest of the house.

After all the yelling, the silence in the kitchen seems to ring.

Beth puts up with it until she feels like she can uncurl her fingers from where they're clenched around the lip of the counter. They come apart slow and stiff, like her joints have rusted into place.

The cabinet where they keep the wineglasses is right next to her dad's - to the cabinet that's been sealed off with a forcefield. It's hard not to look at - there's nothing there, exactly, but the air shimmers and wavers like heat rising off pavement. The movement draws the eye. But somehow Beth manages, fishing a clean wineglass from the cabinet with her eyes locked forward.

"You're the smartest person I know, how can you be so stupid when it comes to him?"

There's a bottle of wine at the back of the fridge, just where Beth left it. She bumps up against the forcefield that seals off the second crisper drawer as she reaches for it, gets a sudden shock for her trouble. She pulls back, eyeing the stupid thing warily. She'd kind of assumed it was the high-tech, intergalactic equivalent of crime scene tape. If it's going to shock anybody who touches it, she's not sure she wants it somewhere where her whole family's likely to bump into it every time they reach for a soda.

The bottle of wine shakes as she tips it over her glass, splashing cheap red out over the sides and all over the counter.

"This could be good for us - okay, all right, for you! A fresh start, without - old baggage -"

The stem of the glass threatens to snap in Beth's hand. She takes a deep breath, and downs half the glass without coming up for air.

She'd been hoping, vaguely, that it'd take her edge off. She's apparently forgotten that she's nothing but edges. How had Jerry oh so eloquently put it? "Brain of a robot and heart of an insect"?

Clutching her glass of wine like a security blanket, alone in the silence of the empty kitchen, Beth wishes that were true.

...

The door to the garage shimmers, slightly, behind its forcefield seal. Jerry had complained when they'd put it in. The police - the Federation police, something Beth hadn't even known existed a week ago - had stripped the place to its bare walls, couldn't he at least use it to park his car?

At the time, Beth had told him to shut up. Now, she almost wishes she'd taken his side.

"You know he was using you, right? That he was just manipulating you so he could use this place as a hideout? You don't actually still believe he cared about being part of your life?"

It's harder not to look at this door than it was to avoid the cabinet.

"Your father stranded us on an alien planet, Beth! If the cops hadn't caught up with him we'd still be there! I'm sorry, I know you're still trying to cling to your good impression of Rick, but we've had to live with the man for the last year, and I'm pretty sure we'd know by now if he was the sort of guy who'd give himself up for anyone else - especially us!"

Beth leans against the wall, her legs suddenly too uncertain to support her. The only reason she doesn't spill her drink is because it's a mouthful away from empty. She's lost track of how many times she's refilled it already. 

She catches herself staring at the garage door, blankly watching the air wavering in front of it. If there'd been anything in there, anything left for anyone to find, it's in the hands of the Federation now. All that's left is bare concrete and uninsulated walls. 

The music from upstairs, a muffled pounding, suddenly drops off in volume, and Beth realises dully that whichever of the kids had turned it up must have noticed the yelling had stopped. She catches herself thinking that the music must be coming from Summer's room, because Morty's probably off on some kind of high-concept sci-fi adventure with -

Beth wonders if she'd remembered to pick up more wine before they'd left for the wedding, or if the bottle she's just polished off is all that was left in the house.

The Federation police...person?...who'd escorted them off the tiny world had been more right than they'd known. Everything is right back to the way it was.

Beth peers into the depths of her wineglass, and drains the last mouthful.

...

When Jerry comes looking for the ice cream, he doesn't notice Beth sitting with her back against the counter until she speaks.

"We're outta wine," she says, and he starts, cracking his head against the underside of the fridge shelf above him.

"Ow! Shit!" Jerry attempts a glare in Beth's direction, manages peevish annoyance. 

"I think there's still some travel bottles of vodka in the medicine cabinet," Beth says, to her feet. "Jusss - don' grab the ones that glow purple."

Jerry straightens up, slamming the fridge door. Beth can feel him looking down, feel his judgemental stare burning through the top of her head, but she doesn't look up. Partly because she thinks her head might float away if she tries, but mostly because she's not going to give him the satisfaction.

"I think you're forgetting," he says, short. "It's over. No more mysterious purple liquids in the medicine cabinet. No more glowing rocks in the kitchen trash. No more alien bacterial cultures in the Cherry Garcia -"

"I know what you used to say about me," Beth interrupts. The sentence stumbles off her tongue, but it still bursts out into the quiet kitchen ringingly clear. 

She doesn't wait for Jerry to bluster through his denial, tipping her empty wineglass back and forth in both hands. "In high school. You an’ all the other guys. Good old 'Daddy Issues' Sanchez, right? You used to like how fucked up I was. You all just loooooooved how easy it made me."

Beth can hear the sharp breath her husband sucks in through his nose, the exasperated sigh, but she still doesn't look up. The light off the glass in her hands is dulled by the smudgy film of oil her fingers have left on it. 

Jerry sounds more like he's talking to a misbehaving dog than another person. "If we have to talk about this, can we do it when both of us are sober?"

"I'm sor-ry you got stuck with me and all my old baggage,” Beth sing-songs. There’s a vicious, quiet satisfaction in looking up to see her husband’s face contracting in barely-suppressed anger. “But heyyyyy. This easy enough for you?”

For a second, Beth thinks Jerry’s going to start yelling again. But then he shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m not letting you drag me into this. Drink some water.”

He starts to shuffle out of the kitchen, and Beth’s sure she’s meant to hear the muttered, “You’re almost as bad as your dad.”

Trying to jump to her feet was the wrong thing to do. Beth ends up hanging off of the counter by one arm, sagging on her knees, shouting at her spineless, gutless wimp of an idiot husband’s back, “You’re just lucky I’m so fucking stupid when it comes to you!”

Jerry doesn’t turn around, just shuffles on around the doorframe and out of sight. Beth tries to lever herself to her feet, and then gives up, collapsing back down to her comfortable spot on the floor. One of the cabinet handles is digging into her back just below her neck, but she’s numb enough to ignore it.

She could go out and get more wine. Hell, she could go out and get more wine, and then just keep going. Devin’d be more than glad to see her. Beth’s no fool, she’s been playing this game since she was old enough to wear a bra. She’d have to be blind and deaf not to know he’s interested in her. 

She wonders if, when he found out, Jerry’d actually have the guts to blow his own brains out like he’d promised.

Beth tips her head back, stares up at the pot lights set into the ceiling. Hell, maybe she could break into the garage. There’s always a chance that the Federation cops who scoured the place didn’t find the basement, that there’s something down there that could get her right out of orbit. She could just vanish, forever, into the infinite coldness of space. It probably wouldn’t be that hard. She can take care of herself. She’s smart.

Just like -

Beth heaves a huge breath that absolutely doesn’t resemble a sob, and tries again to push herself to her feet. She steadies herself against the counter, sticks her empty wineglass under the faucet and wrenches the tap on. 

She doesn’t realise the glass is full until it’s overflowing.

...

Morning dawns grey.

Beth takes a shower, brushes the taste of small dead rodent out of her mouth, pulls on clean clothes and brushes out her hair and slaps on tinted moisturiser, lipstick, mascara. She has to lean in close to the mirror to drag the brush over her eyelashes without stabbing herself in the eye, has to look herself right in the face. Somehow she manages not to make eye contact once.

When she's finished, she looks fresh. Human again. Like any other morning. Maybe her eyes are a little red, but not enough so that anyone would notice.

She's got toast in the toaster and a pan full of eggs sizzling on the stove when Jerry wanders in, with that expression that he gets when the commercial with the sad homeless African orphan puppies comes on TV. "Heyyyyy, there," he starts, voice cautious under the syrup, and Beth bites down on her tongue. "Wow, that sure smells delicious. Did you...actually get any sleep last night, or have you been down here this whole time?"

Beth turns away, checks the eggs. They'll only need a minute or so more. "Would you set the table?"

Jerry, predictably, doesn't move. "So that's how it's going to be, huh? We're just going to pretend like last night didn't happen?"

"As far as I'm concerned, it didn't," Beth says, reaching up to the cabinet to grab a plate to flip the eggs onto. 

She doesn't have to turn and look at her husband to know the way he's looking at her. It's better than staring like she's one of the homeless puppies. "Really? You don't think you - I don't know, owe anybody an apology?"

"I'm sorry," Beth says, flatly, and flips the eggs out of the pan onto the plate. Some of her dad's robots have had more emotion in their voices. "Are you going to set the table?"

Jerry sighs. It's not just a sigh, it's self-pity made sound. Beth turns to check on the toast, but she can feel her husband's eyes boring into her back as he clatters around in the cabinets. 

"I don't want to start another fight," he says, finally, and for once Beth believes him. "I just - are you all right?"

"No, Jerry," Beth says, as the toast pops up. She turns back to the cabinet for a second plate, starts to pile toast onto it. "Tell the kids breakfast is ready, would you?"

Jerry doesn't move, and even with her back turned, Beth knows she's getting the homeless-puppy look again. She sucks in a breath, squares her shoulders, and turns around to hand him the plate of toast.

"It's not going to happen again," she says, meeting his eyes, and means it. "Let's just go back to acting like everything is fine like everybody else, okay? I have to get to work."

For just a moment, the pity bleeds out of Jerry's expression, and Beth remembers why they're still married.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry about your dad," he says, halting. 

Beth shrugs.

"We're all better off without him," she says, the familiar words taking shape in her mouth without her having to think about it.

She turns around and feeds more bread into the toaster before Jerry can see her face.