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atlabeth · 3 years

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nightmares - mike munroe x reader

summary: It was a deal made by two almost-friends in the early hours of the morning after the worst night of their lives, when they realized that all they really had left was each other.

a/n: so this is once again. not my normal content but ive been on an until dawn kick lately and fell in love w the characters all over again. i dont know if anyone still reads or writes for this fandom but. here u go. enjoy

warning(s): lots of cursing, canon typical violence, mentions of graphic violence/death (but nothing too descriptive), mentioned depression, insomnia, and alcoholism, some heavy themes but its hurt/comfort so it ends in fluff

wc: 4.8k

You were running.

You were running, and it was freezing — fuck, it was freezing.

You knew your surroundings; how could you ever forget? Every fucking moment on the goddamn mountain was engraved into your mind for what you assumed would be the rest of your life, an assumption that had since been proven correct.

And now, against your will, you were back. Of course you were back.

A shudder ran through your whole body as that all-too-familiar screech rang out behind you, each second of it like nails on a chalkboard in the worst way. Your lungs burned like all hell but you couldn’t stop — if you stopped, you were as good as dead.

Some part of this fucked up thing was almost funny. Humans were always boasting about how they were the top of the food chain, how they were the height of evolution. There was nothing to keep an ego in check like being hunted by a supernatural creature.

Any thoughts of bullshit philosophy were dashed from your mind as you took a hard right, nearly falling over from the sharp curve of the mountain but just able to catch yourself. Your heart was thundering in your chest, the beats nearly lining up with your sprinting. You felt an intense urge to turn around, try and gauge your chances, but the thought of slowing down for even a second terrified you. It’s not like you needed to anyways — you knew exactly what was after you.

You were nearing the end of your road, both literally and figuratively. You stumbled over a tree root, your hands splayed out in front of yourself at just the right angle to keep your momentum going and, in some feat of luck, stay upright and running.

But your luck had just run out.

Your senses were proven correct as the harrowing cliff edge came into view, and a thousand things screamed in your mind at once as your demise stared you right in the eye. You barely managed to catch yourself, very much aware that the snow falling into the void could’ve just as well been you.

That fucking screech again, even closer than before, and you whipped around as you took an instinctive step back. Your hands patted around everywhere, searching for something to defend yourself, but you had nothing. No gun, knife, even the ground around you was devoid of rocks.

You had nothing. You had nothing to defend yourself from this goddamn nightmare creature, and you were going to die.

Your eyes darted around wildly in an attempt to find something, anything, to save yourself, but there was nothing. You took another step back and felt your foot slip, your breath catching as you barely managed to save yourself with a twist and a lunge away from the edge. The shock of the ground and the cold against your skin was just enough to remind yourself that you were actually alive. Another pile of snow mimicked the fate that seemed imminent as it trickled over the side of the cliff, and you screwed your eyes shut as you tried to shut your mind up.

Think, goddammit, if you wanted to get off of this fucking mountain you had to think—

The screech that pierced through the night sky was far too close for comfort, and as your head snapped back towards the woods you swore that your heart stopped beating.

It had caught up. You were out of time you were going to die but you didn’t have anything and you were going to fucking die—

A flash of white pushed off a tree and lunged towards you, teeth bared as it emitted that horrible screech. You didn’t even have time to scream, completely frozen in place as one clawed hand reached your neck, and you braced for the moment of release.

You shot up in your bed, breathing rapid and unsteady with a barely contained cry on the edge of your lips as your hand instinctively flew to your neck. You heaved an almost strangled sigh of relief to know that your head was still attached to your body (it might’ve seemed obvious, but… your head wasn’t exactly on straight at the moment, all jokes aside) and collapsed against the headboard.

You ran your hands across your face as you tried in vain to calm yourself down, ultimately having to turn on your lamp to ease your troubled mind that there was nothing going thump in the night.

It had been this same routine almost every night — horrible nightmare, wake up crying or screaming or both, and start the day at 3 am because you couldn’t fall back asleep.

It was exhausting. You were exhausted.

You knew you couldn’t go on like this, but what choice did you have? Therapy had been mandated by the police for a certain amount of time after the incident, but… it’s not like it had helped. How could it, when no one truly knew what you had gone through?

Well… that wasn’t completely accurate.

One person knew what you were going through, and you hadn’t said as much as one word to him since that night. You didn’t really… know what to say.

Hey. I know we’re not all that close, but I’m sorry your girlfriend and all your friends were killed by a Wendigo and that I made it instead. Hope you’re not going insane with grief. I’ll send you a card at Christmas!

...yeah. You had no idea what to say to him after months of no contact.

The relationship you had with Mike Munroe was a strange one, to say the least.

None of you were the same after that night on the mountain. The horrors of the mines would be forever entrenched in your head, flashes of the Wendigos appearing every time you closed your eyes. You and Mike were the only ones who made it off, and the guilt you carried everywhere was a burden you knew you couldn’t shoulder. And even after the physical scars had faded, you knew the mental ones never would.

Sometimes you wondered how you had even managed to get involved with the group in the first place — bonds that had been made in your freshman and sophomore years had somehow managed to stay strong enough throughout the rest of high school, strong enough to cement your spot in the friend group and the yearly lodge visits. You liked them all well enough, enough to go up to an isolated mountain with them for a weekend or so, but… yeah. Sometimes you did wonder what the hell you were doing with them.

But now?

Now, you would give almost anything to hear Sam’s laugh or one of her compliments, or tease Ashley and Chris about their very obvious feelings; hell, you found yourself missing Matt’s useless football facts. And even though Emily and Jessica weren’t always the nicest, you still had managed to worm your way into their hearts. Knowing that you would never get Emily’s brutal but helpful advice or get dragged to a football game by Jessica again?

If someone had told you the difference between life-long trauma and a completely normal existence was that blonde girl with the braids in your biology class, you might’ve thought a little harder before accepting that party invite.

The days after you were rescued from the mountain passed in a daze, questions and interrogations from police never sticking for too long. And it didn’t even feel like it mattered, the way none of them seemed to believe you.

They kept you separated from Mike throughout the whole process, and you were only able to catch glances of him when you were being transferred to different rooms throughout the long process. It really was like something out of a horror movie — a group of teens go up to a lodge in the woods, and only two return with a story of unspeakable horrors — and rather than try and work out what had happened, they seemed intent on pinning the deaths on you and Mike.

As if you weren’t dealing with enough after watching your friends get murdered by the monster of another friend, the people that were supposed to be helping you were instead trying to charge you with them. If it wasn’t so fucking infuriating, it would’ve been laughable.

The worst part? You could hardly blame them.

When you took a second to listen to yourself, to what you were spouting to the police, you sounded insane. If you hadn’t witnessed it all first hand, you wouldn’t have believed yourself.

You told them to go down to the mines. That the thing that killed your friends would be down there, and they could see it for themselves.

You didn’t know if that was the right choice. Hell, you might’ve been sending those cops to their deaths. But it was the only way you could think of to get them to believe you.

(You doubted they would go down there anyways. What was the word of two crazy college kids over actual logic? Not much, you imagined.)

You were in that damn interrogation room for what felt like forever until you were finally taken to a hospital to get your wounds treated. But even in the hospital bed, police were by your side asking about what happened every day of your stay. After your discharge, you were forced into custody until they got information that they deemed satisfactory.

By some miracle, you and Mike weren’t charged with anything. The news might’ve gotten hold of your story, but you didn’t know. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t ever look at the news after the tragedy, too afraid that you would see the smiling faces of your friends staring back at you, or pictures of you and Mike with news anchors trying to talk about how involved the two of you were.

If there was one thing worse than going through hell, it was other people trying to make a profit off of your spiral.

Your friends’ families offered their condolences, but not much else. You didn’t hold it against them. Your survivor’s guilt was strong enough to know exactly why they didn’t reach out further.

(You blame yourself for their deaths, after all. Why wouldn’t they?)

It was the same situation with Mike.

Maybe you had purposefully drifted apart from him, trying to build up walls of your own so that he wouldn’t be able to spring it on you first. You assumed he hated you after what had happened, and he had every right to. You might’ve helped each other through the night, but you had no other option. Now, everyone else but you was dead — people he cared about more than you — and you just couldn’t face that.

But as you stared at yourself in your bathroom mirror, you realized that you might have to.

You looked awful.

Weeks of sleepless nights were catching up to you, appearing in the form of

hollow eyes and dark circles, along with a slight discoloration of your skin. The scars from the mountain had mostly healed, but there was a particularly nasty gash on your cheek that was still showing — it wasn’t doing you any favors in the ‘looking completely normal and sane and not severely sleep deprived’ department.

You splashed some water in your face to try and wake up a bit, but the slight drowsiness that followed you everywhere seemed to be a permanent part of you now.

(It was almost funny, in a way. You were so paranoid and alert all the time, unable to fall asleep, and yet it was all you could think about in moments like these. You wondered when irony had become such a staple in your life.)

You had tried talking to therapists, your friends, your family, even searching the internet for advice on what to do after a life changing traumatic event. Nothing had worked.

The simplest solution had come to mind more than once, but you had pushed it aside with the determination to work through this on your own. But now, staring at yourself and seeing how much you had deteriorated…

You had to go talk to the only person who would understand.

You had considered turning around more than once on the drive over.

Because, really, what the hell were you doing? Showing up at his doorstep in the middle of o dark thirty because— because what?

Because you had a nightmare?

He had gone through the same thing you had, probably even worse. Losing Jessica right in front of him, having to cut off his fingers to get free, spending countless hours alone, dealing with the nightmare that was the sanatorium, and then…

Well, you had been in the mines with him and Josh when it happened. There was no doubt in your mind that the scene replayed in his head endlessly, just like it did for you.

Showing up… it was going to be a mistake. You knew it was.

For all you knew, Mike had moved on already. He was stronger than you, he always had been. Maybe your presence would send him spiraling once more, or maybe it would just earn you a verbal beating like no other. Mike had always been nice enough, but the trauma you had endured was enough to turn a saint into his own worst enemy.

You didn’t know what would happen. You didn’t know anything, and as you turned down his street you regretted more than ever not keeping in touch with him. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation, scrambling after your last hope for salvation after slowly killing yourself over the past few months.

But there was no chance to turn back now, because before you knew it your knuckles were rapping against his front door.

The pause between your arrival and a response was so long that you considered leaving and pretending like this never happened, but just as you began to step back the door swung open.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but… he was there. The only other testament to the horrors of Blackwood Pines, and maybe the only person that could help you through this.

“...hi,” you murmured, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat as you looked the personification of your shame in the eye.

Mike blinked a few times, whether to try and wake up a little or out of surprise from his visitor you didn’t know, but it was a few seconds before he responded in kind. “...hey. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

You chuckled dryly as you nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for the sudden arrival. I’m, uh… I’m kind of surprised you even opened the door.”

He huffed out a short breath in a facsimile of a laugh. “Not getting much sleep these days.”

“That’s something we’ve got in common.” You crossed your arms across your chest and let out a loose sigh, eyes wandering around in an attempt to think of what to say next. It should’ve been so easy, but… but for some reason, it just wasn’t.

“Guess so.” That awkward silence stretched out once more, neither of you knowing how to fill it. Thankfully, Mike continued to take the plunge, but it wasn’t without a slight barb. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” you stopped just as you had begun, because you really didn’t know. You had come here for help, but could Mike really do that for you? He was the same as you — a fucked up teenager trying to deal with something so far beyond him.

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you made eye contact once more. “I… I really don’t know. I’m out of options, and… I can’t keep going like this. So I came here to talk, or— or to try and get some help. I don’t know.”

That same silence filled the air once more, the night ambiance the only thing in between the two of you. You missed when that silence used to be comfortable, but… you could only blame yourself for it.

“So— so, what?” he asked, the beginnings of a frown starting to crease his brows. “You just— we go through all that together up there, and then when we get back down you don’t say a word for months. And now— now, out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, you just show up and ask for help?”

“God,” you muttered. When he put it that way, it was true. It was ridiculous, to expect his help after the way you had just left him to deal with it all on his own for a reason borne of your own insecurity. “You’re right. This was— this was stupid. I’m sorry.”

You had already turned to go when you felt a calloused hand on your shoulder, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“No.” His voice was surprisingly soft as he sighed, stepping back with a shake of his head to make room in the doorway. “No, I—” Mike paused for a moment, as if he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I’m sorry. You can come in. Obviously, you can come in.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you tried to hide your shock at the gesture, but you weren’t about to turn it down. You nodded, and he stepped aside to make space for you to walk in. When you did, you were met with a mess not unlike the one back at your apartment, save for the beer bottles. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly on every surface, so you took a seat on a clean spot on the floor, leaning back against a chair and pulling your knees up to your chest. You actually preferred it this way — it was grounding, in a literal sense. Mike pushed aside a laundry basket and did the same, but pulled one leg up and let the other lay extended.

“Why?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had been accumulating once more. “Why did you just…” he gestured around with his hands to try and get his point across but ultimately settled with a sigh. “You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to text, or call, or write, or— or anything. Hell, I would’ve probably jumped to get a messenger pigeon from you. But it was just… radio silence.”

You picked at the dry skin on your thumbs as you tried to come up with an answer. “I… I don’t know,” you repeated. “It was stupid, and it was horrible of me to leave you alone. I mean… I don’t know why I did it. I know what I’ve been going through, and I know you’ve been going through the same. So I don’t know why I didn’t try to reach out and see how you were doing.”

He chuckled mirthlessly as his eyes swept over the empty bottles that had accumulated on the coffee table. “I’m not the best with alone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I thought…” you shook your head as you looked at the ceiling. “I thought that you hated me. I know that you cared about them all more, you were closer to all of them, and… and I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That I would just always be a reminder of what you lost. And… and, I don’t know. Maybe it was my way of trying to move on. Was a stupid fucking idea, though.”

That got a genuine laugh out of him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I get that. I dunno why I didn’t try to talk to you either. Maybe since you didn’t say anything, I didn’t want to either. This whole thing fucked me up.” His gaze moved to you. “Fucked us both up.”

“You can say that again,” you muttered as you tapped your fingers on your knees. “I can’t look anywhere without seeing them. I mean, I see that fucking…” you grimaced. “I see Josh, and I see what that thing did to him, and I just— I’m right back to step one.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “...yeah. That was seven layers of fucked up.”

“You can’t just keep saying everything was fucked up,” you said dryly. “It was shitty, too.”

Mike snorted, some kind of slightly masochistic humor going on between the two of you. “Nothing really gets the point across like fucked up.”

“Guess you’re right,” you finally conceded with a small smile. “This is… this is nice. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to… I don’t know, to talk to someone like this.”

“It is,” he murmured.

Another pregnant pause hung in the air, but the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable now. Trickles of what it used to be like, of your old life, were beginning to poke through.

“I never hated you,” he said suddenly. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and it was like his brown eyes were piercing through you as he continued. “I never did. After it happened… yeah, I was mad. I was fucking pissed, but it was never at you. You were my friend too, y’know? Even though we weren’t that close, we were still… we were still something. And I’m glad you made it. I just wish you hadn’t convinced yourself that you had to go through this alone. Maybe things would’ve turned out different, these past few months. For both of us.”

You nodded, choosing to avert eye contact first because you almost couldn’t handle the sincerity. Your heart sank a bit at the sight of all the beer bottles, and you knew that he was right. Maybe things would’ve been different if the two of you had weathered it together from the start. And so you said that.

“I still can’t help but feel like I’m to blame for—” you gestured around at the mess with a sigh, “for this.”

“Look.” His voice was raspy as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and as he met your eyes once more you were able to see how truly exhausted he was. With dark circles that matched your own, scars that were still healing, and a certain hollowness behind his eyes… It was like looking in a mirror. And it made you realize how fucked up the two of you had really become.

Mike had always been good at holding himself together, putting up his signature egotistical-douchebag-jock act in the face of anything that threatened to tear him down, and more often than not he came out victorious. But not even class presidents were immune to the horrors that they had faced, and it was taking more of a toll on him than you had realized.

“It’s not your fault. You— you did everything you could; I know I’m still alive because of you. Besides, we were idiot teenagers — we still are — and none of them deserved to die because of it. Not Hannah, not Beth, not any of them.” Mike shook his head and sighed. “Not even Josh. Man was fucked up even before all of this, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him. He needed help, but instead he got his fucking… god. I can’t even say it. But he didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, the subconscious process having stopped because of the weight of his words. It was cliche, but you didn’t know how much you needed to hear those four words: it’s not your fault.

“Maybe you should be my therapist,” you joked weakly. But as you let your eyes trail back to Mike you bit your lip. He hadn’t included himself in that statement, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out why.

“Mike… it wasn’t your fault either. You’re not just saying bullshit to try and make yourself feel better, it really wasn’t your fault. What do they say? ‘Getting through your guilt is the first step to recovery’ or some shit? You deserve to be here just as much as I do.”

“But it was,” he insisted. “It’s easy for you to say that. You tried to stop it, I… I just went along with it. Fuck, I started it all. Hannah and Beth went missing because of me, Josh went out of his fuckin’ mind, and if he hadn’t brought us all back up there for his revenge plot then they wouldn’t have died. How is it not my fault? Why do I get to live when all of them died because of me?”

“Mike,” you sighed. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know why we made it back when none of them did, but it’s not your fucking fault, okay? You— yeah, that prank was fucking stupid, but— but how could you know what was going to happen?” You huffed a laugh that was only slightly unhinged. “People pull pranks all the time. Native American legend cannibal spirit things don’t try to kill people all the time. You can’t keep blaming yourself. It’s not going to help them, and it’s not going to help you.”

That silence stretched out once more as he took in your words. You didn’t know if he believed them or not, but you did. That had to be worth something, right?

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he muttered, breaking the silence once more. “And I… I don’t know. I don’t know why it took almost fucking dying from those goddamn things, a— and seeing what happened to all of them...”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, leaning back against the foot of the sofa. “All the shit that happened, all of them dying — I don’t know how long it’ll take until we’re okay again. Hell, I don’t even know if we ever will be okay again. What happened up there was fucked up in the worst way, and the fact that no one believes us makes it a hell of a lot worse.”

You chuckled darkly as you cupped one hand in the other. “You can say that again.”

His lips twitched for a moment as if he wanted to smile but ultimately thought better of it. “I know we aren’t that close anymore, but the truth is we’re the only ones on this fuckin’ planet that know what really happened up there. We’re the only ones that will ever really understand what happened to us, and… and I think we’re the only ones that can really help each other through this shit.”

He met your eyes once more, something resolute in them. “So the next time this happens, because it will, if you don’t want to be alone… you can come here. Any time, any day, no questions asked. Just knock on that door, and I will be there. No more isolation, no more trying to get through this on our own. We gotta be there for each other, because we’re all we have.”

You nodded gratefully, a feeling of warmth slowly creeping through your body with his reassurance. “Thank you, Mike. You… you have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I have some clue,” he murmured.

As you exchanged weary smiles, you saw a faint twinkle in Mike’s eyes. He was always the kind of person to help others, even if it was for the wrong reasons, and that was one thing that stuck with him after the disaster. And in that moment, a long lost feeling washed over you — safety.

You hadn’t felt safe in… well, it seemed like forever. Adrenaline and pure instinct were responsible for getting you through those twelve hours, along with an overwhelming wave of numbness and denial. But once all of that wore off, the nightmares had begun. Your friends, the Wendigos, the mountain itself — anything and everything that your mind could use against you, it did.

It was a living hell. You could hardly ever sleep anymore, horrific images always jolting you awake after an hour or two and keeping you awake for the rest of the day. It was no wonder Mike had ended up with a drinking problem — it was probably the only way he could sleep, the only way he could bring some form of peace to his mind. By some miracle, you had avoided that fate, but… you would be lying if you said you hadn’t come close.

But somehow, for some reason, you could tell that things were going to be different. Now that you and Mike weren’t avoiding each other anymore in the name of painful memories… you felt like things were going to be okay. Or as close to okay as you could get these days.

You weren’t alone, and neither was he.

He had saved your life on the mountain more than once. Now, he was saving you again. Just in a different way.

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ud tags: @kwyloz

#mike munroe #mike munroe x reader #mike x reader #until dawn x reader #until dawn #until dawn fic #mike until dawn #sadie writes #i always get so insecure when i post things that arent for atla #then i remember that. this is my blog and i can write what i want #lol

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sunflowerheartsandstarryskies · 4 years

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My Golden Curse - Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: Hello again, I may have stumbled upon the Pedro Pascal fandom and I can’t get out, and I saw someone posted that they wanted an imagine with Maxwell Lord and the reader in which one of them gets kidnapped and the other just goes ballistic, and I basically kept getting that idea stuck in my head, this was only supposed to be a drabble but oh well. This depiction of Maxwell Lord is closer to the DC Comics version of him and not the movie but it has Pascal’s Lord’s likeness, so it’s like a combination of the two.

Also, I have survived my finals and had taken a break from writing for a while but I’m back and I have some ideas for my Lucifer multi-chapter fic as well. I also have an idea for a John Wick fic but I have no idea if anyone wants to read that.

Warnings: Typical comic-book violence, cursing (like two curse words), blood mentioned, kidnapping, bruises and injuries (like ribs breaking, a concussion, and a few lacerations

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Maxwell Lord IV prided himself on presentation. Everything had to be pristine and everything, even the garbage can by his desk had to be impeccable, because his business and himself in general, are put out on display for the public. He is a figurehead and a showman, so when you came along to be his assistant and secretary he was at first apprehensive because you didn’t dress as provocatively as he may have like and you didn’t look as model-esque as his other secretaries in the past. You didn’t apply to Chimtech to be fucked by your boss, you were good at your job and you aspire to show off your skills.

However, time went on when you first started to work for Maxwell Lord and you did a phenomenal job, whenever he was in a meeting you would always make sure to listen and take notes of what he needed while he was in the meeting. Whenever he requested for you to fax an item you would’ve made sure to have done it five minutes prior. Maxwell had no idea how you could be so efficient at your job, but he damn well appreciates it even if he rarely ever mentions it to you.

It’s an odd relationship that you guys have worked yourself in, a friendly relationship it seems, but both of you are teetering on the edge of wanting more. There have been teasing nicknames, mostly from you, you had a plethora of nicknames that you would give him, ranging from “Sandy” to “Ken”, but “Golden boy” was your favorite.

You would never admit this to him or even to yourself but you actually liked his blonde locks. In certain lightings, when you look at him you swear he was Midas, covered in his own golden curse. It was breathtaking to watch him at some points, but you always try to cover up your flustered state.

You knew Maxwell well, some may say too well for a secretary, but you rarely saw the side of him that most of his competitors and fellow businessmen saw, and that was the merciless and ruthless side to his tactics on getting what he wanted. Everyone in the public eye saw him as just the “King of Infomercials” but there was a reason why and how he got that title in the first place. Who knew the infomercial world could be so cruel and hectic?

You were able to catch glimpses of Maxwell’s amazing abilities of persuasion and showmanship, he was able to get people to admit to what they want and get them to go out and seize, whether that was good or bad. There was a particular talent that you find out he has and it was his ability to drag out people’s hidden desires, there were times when the people he used this talent were a shock as the people around them when they admitted to what they really wanted.

He was a golden idol of his own creation; he had to be especially to the people around him. However, that golden facade can only keep him held up for so long when the people he handed gold to realize that it’s fool’s gold.

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It was earlier in the day, you just woke up and got dressed in your office attire with a cup of coffee in hand as you try to will yourself to get going. You looked up at your apartment’s clock and it was 7:00 am, you needed to get going if you were to make it to Chimtech in time.

As you stepped out of your apartment building you felt a gloved hand over your mouth and panic flooding your whole body, but before your body could even fully process a flight or fight response you felt a sharp pain in your neck and you passed out.

When you come to, your vision is blurred and you can’t understand where you are and your brain just has confusion filling your senses. Why can’t you process what is around you? What happened to you? After a couple of more seconds went by you felt a rope tightly woven around your wrists, and you comprehended that you were sitting on a floor. What happened to you?

“Ah, there’s the little doll’s eyes! I was wondering if you were beginning to ever wake up,” a voice filled your ears. You blinked furiously trying to get your eyes to focus and you found yourself face to face with a man, who was grinning at you like a shark finding the prey they smelled a mile away.

“I’m sure you understand why you’re here? I don’t need to monologue it to you, do I?” the man asks.

“Mr. Vince, right? You were in a meeting with my boss Maxwell Lord, a month ago, right?” you questioned him as the drug and weariness started to seep out of you, and you gained more awareness of your surroundings. The man, Mr. Vince was a part-owner of a tech company that Chimtech was interested in making an investment in, however from what you were aware of was that the true goal of the meetings with Vince and his company was to absorb it into Chimtech, forcing Vince and the other owners to give up their powers over to Maxwell Lord and the other board members of Chimtech.

“I see the drugs didn’t impair your memory, I assume you are aware that I am no longer a CEO? That I was tricked by your goddamned boss?! That he put me in a corner to give up my company over to him!” he screamed. He was half an inch from your face and you were terrified of this man, he was unhinged.

“What does this have to do with me, Mr.Vince?” you asked, forcing yourself to not push him over the edge.

“Ooooh this has everything to do with your boss, I remembered that you are his secretary, so you must know some secret of his, something I can leverage against him to make him give me my company back,” he said.

“Even if I have any sort of information to give you, the damage is already done, your company is done in, it’s already been processed into Chimtech, there is none of your company left.”

That was the wrong thing to say as you felt a kick to your stomach. You groaned and rolled onto your side, and before you could recover from that there was another swift kick that you felt go directly to your ribs.

______________________________________________________________

Minutes blended into hours of constant yelling from Vince to him pulling you off the ground to throwing you back down like you were a piece of litter to being his personal punching bag. It was all you could do to just protect yourself and persevere through the pain because you were just a secretary, you were never trained in self-defense, hell you never even did track in high school.

Through the pain, you felt complete distortion and a high pitch whining going through your head, and you finally realized it was a telephone- a landline. Where the hell did this guy get a landline in this beat-up place?

Then, you hear Vince say, “Oh you want to hear how (Y/N) is?” you hear footsteps coming towards you then cold plastic was pressed to your cheek then Vince continued loudly, “Well here she is, talk.”

“(Y/N)?” You heard Maxwell, your golden boy, say your name and all you can do was say his name back in a raspy voice.

“What did he do to you?” Maxwell asked.

Before you could say any more the phone was taken away from you and Vince’s voice filled your ears.

“Tick tock Maxwell, I want my money and you can get your fuck toy back.”

Then silence, a sickening silence filled the room which made you feel every ache and pain that has been put on your body has made itself known by increasing levels of agony. You didn’t even feel it in you to even try to correct Vince’s words about you. You just wanted to sleep and not wake up for a whole day, maybe if you laid perfectly still and just not move a muscle the pain would go away.

As you lay there you tearily open your eyes back up and you can hear the tinny sounds of the echoing footsteps of your captor pacing back and forth in the room you were held in. It was nauseating, and you were confused as you thought, When did you close your eyes? How long were you out?

Then you fell back into your head, and you felt like you were spiraling in your own mind mixed with dizziness and nausea. You just wanted this to end.

A male voice was shouting so close to you and you can feel the panic coming out of his voice, and you can tell it wasn’t Vince because why would he do that?

You felt yourself being lifted from the ground and all you could do was cough sporadically from the new movements on your injuries. It hurt, it hurt so bad.

“I know (Y/N), but you just need to keep going a little bit longer,” the same voice told you.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint where you heard that voice before but you thought it was your boss, Maxwell Lord, but it couldn’t be. That would be the last thought that went through your mind before you lost it to the void.

All you can see at first was just bright and it hurt so bad. When you turned your head you saw a flash of gold and your first thought was, ‘Maxwell’. When your eyes adjusted to the room around you it really was your boss, Maxwell Lord in the hospital with you. He was slumped down in a chair beside your bed and you saw there were roses in a vase on the table next to you.

“Gold-golden boy, hey,” you rasped out trying to wake him. You coughed and then groaned as you felt the lacerations and bandages around your torso.

You saw him stir in the chair and his eyes opened and landed on yours. “Hey boss,” you whispered cringing at your voice. Your hands clenched at the sheets around you as you saw him blink furiously and stood up fast. You flinched at the fast movement but he didn’t seem to notice, as he moved closer to you.

“I am sorry about what happened to you, I didn’t think that our clients would go so far as to do this to you. I can’t believe that bastard did all of this to you-”

“It’s okay, I mean it hurts like a bitch but you ended up finding me didn’t you? What happened to him anyway?” you cut him off.

“Ah well, I may have gotten violent with him before the law enforcement could get him,” he said twisting his hands around and that’s when you saw the scrapes on his knuckles.

“I don’t know if you were a white knight to me but you certainly are a golden devil for doing that,” you replied.

He huffed out a laugh at your reply and he opened his mouth to say something but got interrupted when a nurse arrived.

______________________________________________________________

After the nurse left, you found out you still have a concussion lingering still, three bruised ribs and lacerations across your whole torso and arms.

When he listened to the whole list of injuries that you had gotten in the three days that you were with Mr. Vince, he felt rage boil over him but he tried to keep calm as he remembered the battered state he left Vince in. At least he made him feel some of the pain that he made you go through, Maxwell was a very prideful man in how he acts so for him to act like that was completely out of character for him.

He must be looking worried because he noticed your furrowed brows and you glancing at him every so often.

“Did you want to say something?” he asked

“Well, I was gonna ask you a similar question because I think you were interrupted by the nurse. Also are you okay?”

Your question startled him and the mention of the interruption made him clear his throat and fidget with his suit to try to hide the blush that was threatening to come up to his face. Your inquisitive expression on your face was watching him.

“I’ve been thinking that if you would like to leave the company, I won’t force you to stay, especially with what happened this week,” he said.

Listening to him say this made you panic and as you tried to sit up, Maxwell came up to you quickly as he says, “What do you think you’re doing? You got to take it easy.”

As you are situated in your bed you went to reach for Maxwell’s hand as you say, “Why would I want to quit? I love my job and I love working with you even if at times I don’t seem like it. None of what happened to me was your fault, how could you have known that Vince would react to the merger the way that he did.”

Maxwell was startled by this, he never had anyone in his family nor his company is so willing to stay with him especially when they are given an out.

He bowed his head toward you and said, “If you keep saying things like that I might want to keep you by my side for a long time.”

You laughed as you replied, “If you let me I will, you are a weird but kind man-” you stopped yourself as a thought came to your head.

“How long have you been here? What about Chimtech?”

“Ah well if my secretary didn’t get kidnapped and injured I wouldn’t be here right now, but you made me worried and how can I do my best work without my best assistant around me?”

“Now you’re just flattering me”

“But it’s true”

“Hmmm if you say so, Sandy”

______________________________________________________________

Four days have gone by and you were finally released from the hospital to go back to your apartment. You tried to go back to work at Chimtech, but Maxwell found you were released and gave you the rest of the week off to recover. You would become the envy of the company at this rate with how well the boss has been treating you.

Now that you have been just lounging in your apartment watching TV movies, and eating takeout for meals it has given you time to properly understand what happened to you for the past two weeks.

The way your boss, Maxwell, has been treating you made you see a whole new side of him. At first, you thought of working for him as both a blessing and a curse. At first, it was hell on earth, you ran yourself ragged making sure everything was up to par with Maxwell’s standards but after the next three years working with the man you considered him a friend of sorts. Even though you always tried to make sure to never consider employers and colleagues be separate from your personal life but it’s hard to do that when all you have is your work life.

Ever since the kidnapping incident, Maxwell had visited you every day in the hospital he even gave you flowers on the last day of your hospital visit, it was a beautiful vase of sunflowers.

You didn’t realize how long you were sitting on your couch thinking about your boss when you heard a knock on your door. You looked at the clock near your tv and realized it was nearly midnight.

‘Who could come by to my apartment at this hour?’ you thought.

You got up carefully minding the bruises still littering your body, and you opened the door surprised to see Maxwell.

His hair was a bit disheveled and he didn’t have a suit jacket on showing off the suspenders he likes to wear. He looked quite cute seeing him like this.

“Come in, Mr. Lord. What brings you to my place this late at night?” you inquired.

He ran his hand through his hair as he entered your apartment and he turns to look at you as you closed the door.

He sighed as he said, “I don’t know how quite to put this without sounding terrible, but after what happened to you, I can’t stop thinking about you. You are the best woman-the best person I’ve known and for you to still want to work with me after everything that has happened.”

He looked like he was getting frustrated with himself, you were shocked because how could you have gotten the king of infomercials to be so frustrated with his own words?

You took a tentative step forward to him as you placed a hand on his arm.

“Sandy, what’s going on?”

He was silent for a moment before he looked into your eyes with a strong determination as he says, “You know more about me than my own mother does, and after all this time together I’ve grown to respect you more and more. When I saw you in that hospital I wanted to kill the bastard and send him to hell when I found you like that in the warehouse.”

“I-I don’t know what to say, Mr. Lord-”

“Call me Maxwell, none of your silly names, not boss, not my last name, just Maxwell”

You could tell he was earnest with this and sincere it took your breath away to see him like this. He was beautiful and it made your heart flutter when you realize what he might be trying to confess to you.

“Maxwell” you breathed out testing his name out. You said his name once before and that was when you had gotten kidnapped but now this is completely different, almost like a prayer. A prayer to this golden devil of yours.

He smiled when he heard you say his name and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I wish I could kiss all the scars away from your body so you never have to live with them again. I wish that I could be yours, fully and I want to be clear that I would never use you like I may have done to my secretaries in the past. I want to be yours, in any way you may want me.”

“Oh Maxwell, I think I might have to grant your wish this time,” you say blinking away tears that were threatening to spill as you were listening to his confession.

“(Y/N)” he whispered reverently.

He cradled your face with both hands as he studied your face to see any resistance than he gently placed his lips on yours.

You made a small gasp as you finally felt his lips on yours, you clutched onto his shirt as you pulled him closer to you. He tilted his head and pushed your chin up to meet in for a deeper kiss. It felt amazing and you felt loved.

When you parted you were chasing each other’s lips to crash back into each other as you kissed each other until you both need a break. Both of your lips were swollen and you looked at him with such love that when Maxwell saw, he almost wanted to take you then and there but he was mindful of how fragile this love could be.

Author’s Note: I might do a second part if people want it but whew this took a lot out of me, I hope you guys like it!

#maxwell lord x reader #pedro pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal #maxwell lord #imagines #x reader #wonder woman 1984 #max lord x reader

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

Zero Days Without Incident

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 20 Prompt - Defiance

The ‘Days Without Incident’ sign in Tony Stark’s private workshop has nothing to do with engineering or science mishaps and all to do with a bet between him and a certain Spiderling.

Words: 1783, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan

TW: Stabbing

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Peter you have thirty minutes until your curfew,” Karen warned him, already plotting a course home and throwing it up on his HUD.

It was a balmy spring evening and Peter had spent most of his patrol leisurely swinging through Queens or relaxing on a hammock made from his webs. There had been a few petty crimes he had dealt with, some grand theft bicycle, a cat stuck in a tree but, all in all, he couldn’t really complain. He loved being Spider-Man and helping his neighborhood but it was nice to have a slow day sometimes.

A scream sounded in the distance.

“Spoke too soon,” he mumbled, altering his course and picking up speed. “Can you get me directions K?”

“Of course Peter,” Karen answered, as chirpy and happy as normal, re-routing him away from his apartment and toward the sounds of discourse in the distance. When he dropped in on the scene it seemed to be a mugging in progress and Peter rolled his eyes – didn’t people have anything better to do on a random Tuesday in April? God just seriously rethink your life choices.

“I would say its knife to meet you but I’ve definitely used that pun in the last couple weeks and I don’t want to be accused of not being original,” Peter called down, making both the assailant and victim flinch and look up to where he was perched on the wall above them. “Where did even get that thing? The renaissance fair? Who robs people with a full on dagger anyway? Run out of kitchen knives?” Peter quipped, flipping down and pushing the mugger away with a well placed kick to the arm that made the man stumble back.

“This has nothing to do with you bug,” the man snarled, brandishing the weapon at Peter now and making him roll his eyes. “Don’t get in my way and I won’t have to use this on ya.”

“Spiders are arachnids actually, not bugs” Peter pointed out, shooing the stunned woman out of the alley and on her way out of any potential danger. “And how about you not stab anybody today huh? If you promise to behave I won’t web you to the wall and call the police. Sounds like a fair trade right?”

The man snarled at him with irritation. “You talk too much.”

“So I’ve been told,” Peter agreed easily with a nod. “But what do you say? Ready to give up your life of crime for the straight and narrow?”

“No,” the man grumbled and, with literally no warning, lunged forward and stabbed his knife directly into Peter’s gut.

They both stared at each other in stunned silence before Peter processed the pain with a loud ‘fuck!’.

“You motherfucker,” Peter grunted, backing away to lean against the wall, holding the knife still with one hand so as to not dislodge it. “I can’t believe you stabbed me!”

“I thought you would dodge! You always dodge!” The man said, reaching up both hands to dig into his hair. “I stabbed Spider-Man what the fuck!”

“God this is just-,” Peter grumbled using his free arm to fire webbing at the guy and secure him to the nearby dumpster. “I’ve gone three weeks without having to go to the MedBay! Three weeks! All I had to do was last one more and then I got to pick the movie at movie night for the next month! God I can’t believe it! Mr. Stark is going to be so insufferable now!”

“You could just… not tell him?” The man asked hopefully, not even bothering to struggle against the webs and Peter blew out a breath as he sank down to sit on the gritty ground – he was starting to feel a little cold and dizzy from either the blood loss or shock, he couldn’t tell which. Not that it mattered, his fierce anger overshadowed everything.

“Not an option,” Peter grunted, leaning his head back and closing his eyes against the helpful countdown timer Karen had started displaying the second Tony had entered the Iron Man armor and started jetting to him. “He already knows.” Curse the Baby-monitor Protocol! He and Ned would need to remove it again…

“He track you or something?” The man asked questioningly, head quirked to the side in obvious curiosity.

“Or something,” Peter agreed.

“That’s wack man,” he said. “An invasion of privacy. A, uh… violation of your constitutional rights as a free American!”

“Do you honestly think Tony Stark cares about an something as simple as an invasion of privacy? I’m lucky he hasn’t microchipped me yet,” Peter pointed out. Or, at least, he didn’t think Tony had microchipped him. He’d have to check that and remove it post haste if he found something.

“Dude,” knife guy said commiserating and Peter had to fight the eye roll. Of course the person who stabbed him felt remorseful now.

“I know,” Peter agreed, peering down at his side to look at where the knife was embedded into him. He was pretty good around blood as long as it wasn’t his own and, looking at the way his suit was slick and blood was beginning to pool under his thighs in a puddle made Peter lightheaded so he closed his eyes again. “He’s probably going to be pretty pissed at you by the way,” Peter warned. “He has pretty good lawyers so I wouldn’t have high hopes of getting out of this without jail time.”

The man groaned and Peter just shrugged. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time and all that – also don’t stab people and leave them to the ministrations of their helicopter mentors. Same thing really. The sound of repulsers neared and Peter braced himself – he wasn’t looking forward to dealing with this.

“I guess that we can change the ‘Days Without Incident’ sign back to zero eh Spiderling?” Tony teased as he landed in the mouth of the alley, disengaging his suit and walking over to kneel next to Peter. “You were doing so good too – your longest streak ever in fact.”

“Don’t remind me,” Peter hissed as Tony prodded around the wound carefully with a pre-gloved hand. “Can you not touch that?”

“No can do buddy,” Tony said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Gotta anchor it in so it doesn’t fall out on the ride back. Happy’s on his way to pick us up.”

“Oh great,” Peter groused, letting Tony lean him forward a little so he could start wrapping roll gauze around the knife. “He loves to complain when I get blood on the seats.”

“Only when you get impaled,” Tony said brightly, pulling the gauze tight almost vindictively and making Peter wince. “Wouldn’t want to deprive him now would we?”

“You could just let me bleed out and die here,” Peter suggested seriously. “Since my life is basically over now anyway.

“You’re such a dramatic little shit,” Tony groused, tying off the gauze and levering Peter up off the ground to slump into his side for the extra support. “Now say ‘goodbye’ to your friend, he won’t be seeing the real world for a long, long time,” Tony’s voice had an edge of steel as he said this, dragging Peter to the end of the alley and ignoring the muggers ‘Aw man, c’mon!” as they passed. Peter just shrugged a ‘what can you do?” and wiggled his fingers in a facsimile of a wave as he was pulled away.

Happy, to his credit, was efficient and must have already been in the area because he was quick to pull up with a surly look already cemented onto his face as he surveyed where Peter was leaning into Tony and dribbling blood onto the sidewalk in large, heavy droplets. “I already called the cleaning crew,” he told them through the open window. “They’ll be here before the police to scrub up any possible radioactive DNA.”

“Best forehead of security ever,” Tony crooned lovingly as he carefully situated Peter onto the pile of towels Happy had put into the backseat to soak up the blood and keep it off his leather seats. Happy glared at the both of them in the rearview mirror before rolling up the partition. Tony snorted in undisguised mirth.

“How you feeling kiddie?” He asked as he peeled Peter’s mask from his sweaty face. “Not going to pass out on me again right?”

“Uh…” Peter groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tight to stop the spinning and grey dots that were clouding his vision. “No promises. Sorry.” Tony just let out a put upon sigh like he expected as much and pushed Peter to lay down across the seats, grabbing one of the extra towels to press tightly around the knife and making Peter let out a whining moan at the pressure. “Yeah I might pass out,” he said faintly as his vision started to tunnel.

“Go on then,” Tony said, running a hand through Peter’s damp curls and smoothing them away from his face. “At least you don’t sass me when you’re unconscious.” Peter felt the man lift his legs to slid a few wadded up towels underneath… like that would actually help keep him awake.

“Rude,” Peter grumbled before losing his grip on reality – he trusted Tony to take care of things for now.

——————————————

“I hate this movie,” Peter grumbled groggily, as he pulled himself awake some time later. He was lying in one of the beds in the MedBay, attached to a blood transfusion and with a thick padding of gauze on his abdomen. Tony, seated next to him and munching on popcorn, just sent him a shit eating grin and held up the whiteboard that had been hanging in his workshop displaying ‘Days Without Incident’ with a large 0 written under it in obnoxious red ink.

“This is such bullshit,” Peter said petulantly, picking at the tape holding the IV in place. “I can’t escape! Go watch your garbage movie somewhere else.”

“Excuse me you brat,” Tony said imperiously. “The Breakfast Club is a cult classic thank you very much and besides,” he continued, offering Peter the bowl of popcorn, “someone clearly has to educate you on good movies.”

“I’m going back to sleep,” Peter said, flicking a kernel of popcorn playfully at his mentor (and missing damn – he must be on drugs) and letting his tired eyes slip closed again.

“Sore loser,” he heard Tony tease as he fell asleep and that did it. When he won their next bet they were marathoning the whole Star Wars series from beginning to end, including all of the Clone Wars and the Mandalorian, and he didn’t care what Mr. Stark said.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump20 #Prompt: Defiance #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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bookshelf-imagines · 4 years

Text

Chasing Light | Part II

Pairing/Fandom: Lumity/ToH

Summary: Things are...spicing up.

Warnings: ABUSE, BLOOD, VIOLENCE AND A LOT OF IT

Notes: Strophium - Cloth wrapped around the breasts (bra) Palla - Female Roman equivalent of a toga; best to look it up for a picture. Don’t really know how to describe it beside “scarf” but it’s not:( PART I || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII

Odalia’s iron grip tightened around Amity’s hair and wrists with each struggle, causing the captive to cease her rebellious actions and comply with the older woman. Besides, she broke the rules. For that, one must pay.

Amity was dragged back in the direction of the dreaded manor, only to be thrown into a shed that sits off to the side. It was unkempt, dirty. The cement floor was stained a dark crimson and the walls were cracked from the harsh sunlight. The brown-haired girl knew the room too well, for on occasions where her mistress was angry, she would be pulled there and beaten until miles past exhaustion. She had learned to not fight it - there was no point.

Her knees slammed against the rough stone as she was shoved to the ground, scraping the skin off her hands in an attempt to catch herself in the process. Odalia took her time. One by one, causing her ‘daughter’ to anxiously wait for what was to come.

A candle was lit. The shadow behind Amity grew as she covered the back of her head and curled into a ball. She couldn’t fight it, she would never win.

A whip bounced off of the dry walls, sending a shiver through their brittle bones. They could only watch the poor girl suffer, even after all these years.

Amity flinched, sucking in a sharp breath. The first was easy, the rest would be easy as well.

Wrong.

Another crack broke the air and stripped straight through Amity’s tunic and strophium, licking her bare flesh.

A weak whimper escaped her lips. Odalia cackled and drew back once more.

CRACKLE!

The scourge painfully sliced through the thin flesh on Amity’s back, feasting upon the red that dripped from the wounds left in its wake. The sharp edges dragged back and forth, digging deeper with each thrash and pullback.

Odalia continued the beating until there was barely a shirt left on Amity’s back, completely shredding it and everything else in its path. The latter lay limp on the floor, silently sobbing.

Her back stung like the sting of a thousand scorpions. She was in unbelievable pain, unable to move a single muscle in fear of the rest of her body shutting down permanently. The torn flesh screamed in agony as the air clung to it like a wet washcloth, making her shudder.

Amity stayed rooted to the stony deck as Odalia triumphantly smirked and threw the scourge back in the corner before making her exit. A vile woman, that one, if one should choose to even address her as human.

It was many minutes before any of the other slaves poked their heads inside as they usually did. Granted, the first few beatings they did not help her since she was a Blight, but after they witnessed the inflictions, they eventually opened their arms for her. They did not interact with her outside of the shed, but they would sate her wounds until she could continue working.

So, they did what they do best. They got to work.

~~~~~~~~~~ One week later ~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s not like she’ll actually see you. Just walk by.” Luz mumbled, pacing back and forth. “Smoothly. Walk by smoothly. You can do that. You’ve slain a cyclops. You can stroll by a house.”

The legionnaire had been on patrol for the last three hours checking the perimeter of the town and establishments within five miles of said town. Well...for the last ten minutes she had been tracing and retracing the same eight steps barely outside the view of the Blight Manor.

Luz never would have thought she would have this much difficulty simply passing a house. Even if the house wasn't what she was afraid of seeing, her mind was screaming at her to woman up and continue her patrol.

Without warning, a crash not far away caught Luz’s ear. She poked her head around the corner and saw a carriage with a figure behind it, seemingly loading it. Apparently, however, the figure dropped something, so Luz being the curious soul that she is went to investigate, unknowingly gravitating toward the building she had been avoiding.

“Stupid,” Luz heard a thud follow the word, “Worthless,” another thud, “slave!”

Upon hearing the last word, Luz quickened her movements and fully came into view of the two figures. What she saw sent her into a frenzy.

Amity was curled into a half-ball on the dry road whilst Odalia kicked her again and again. On top of that, a dark crimson could be seen seeping through the back of Amity’s shirt - and it looked like streaks.

Luz immediately went into fight mode and pulled Odalia off of Amity, throwing her to the ground in the process.

“Stay down.” Luz warned.

“She’s my slave-”

Luz unsheathed her sword, pointing it directly at the woman’s throat.

“I said stay down.”

Odalia seemed to stay down at that point, allowing Luz to sheath her sword and turn back around to the injured girl that was struggling to get up. Luz crouched and hovered by Amity, mentally figuring out how to go about the situation.

“Amity.”

“I don’t need your help.” Amity grunted, grabbing on to the side of the carriage but ultimately slipping and hissing in pain.

“Put your arm around my neck.”

“I said I don’t need your help-”

“I’m not asking.” Luz affirmed.

Amity looked back and saw the intense and, not to mention, serious, gaze of the centurion. Her back was screaming due to one of the wounds opening back up when she dropped the box, but she didn’t want to look weak. If she looked weak, she would be punished.

Reluctantly but surely, Amity slung her right arm over Luz’s neck and the latter carefully scooped her into her arms. The arm under Amity’s legs supported most of the weight in fear of causing her back to bleed more.

“You can’t take her. She’s not yours!” Odalia howled, dusting off her tunic.

Luz continued toward the hill, patrol and Odalia long forgotten.

“She’ll...find you, you know.” Amity dazedly mumbled, subconsciously tightening her arms around Luz and burying her head in the woman’s neck.

“Let her find me. It’s you that I’m not letting her near.”

At that moment, Amity’s heart did a backflip. No, two backflips. Was this the feeling of being cared for? Cared about? She didn’t quite know, and she didn’t want to question it either. If she did, it would slip away. Gods, she didn’t want it to slip away, no matter how foreign it was to her.

They continued up the hill until they reached the town, briskly but not enough to irritate Amity’s wounds further. Swerving before they arrived at the gates, Luz traveled around the wall until they were on the eastern side and then entered the town. She went to the first house on the left, seeing her friend outside.

“Willow!” Luz shouted, “I need your help.”

Willow gasped and ran over, “What happened?”

“I’m not sure.” Luz continued, “I need uva ursi and plantain.”

The nature-lover took a second glance at the body her friend was carrying but did not say anything related to them.

“Right.”

With Amity completely passed out from blood loss and no doubt exhaustion, Luz gently laid her on her stomach and ripped open the back of her tunic and carefully peeled off the vermillion-soaked strophium.

What she saw next caused her to choke back a sob.

From shoulder to shoulder, from the neck down, from top to bottom. All that was there were scars and a lot of blood. Lash marks in x-shapes, divits in the tissue, countless short scratches. It was practically a murder scene.

Shaking herself from shock, Luz grabbed a cloth. As she did so, Willow entered the room with the three plants in hand and a bucket of water. The cloth was dipped into the water, wrung, and sluggishly placed on the re-opened wounds, turning from white to red within a second. Every few dabs, the uva ursi would be applied, aiding the effort in discontinuing the bleeding.

After replacing most of the clear liquid with scarlet ichor, Luz got to work with the plantain - one of the weeds to heal wounds. She took the reeds and placed them accordingly, then wrapped them so they would stay.

When she was satisfied with her tasks, she moved Amity to a cot in another room and draped a blanket over her. The latter was still unconscious but seemed to have a more tranquil than agonized expression. Luz soundlessly exited and latched the door, coming face to face with her friend.

“Is she okay?” Willow worriedly inquired.

“She will be.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Wait. Do you...know her?”

“It’s-it’s complicated.”

“Willow.” Luz put a hand on the other girl’s shoulder, “I might be able to help her if you know something.”

Willow paused and contemplated the thought for a moment before sighing.

“Amity Blight. We...we were friends as children-”

“Blight?” Luz blurted.

“Well, yes-”

“Amity Blight.”

“That’s...what I said, yes.”

“I’m sorry, Willow, but I think there’s something I need to take care of. I’ll be back.”

“But, Luz-”

Before Willow could finish, Luz had already sped out the door and outside the gates, winging her way back over to the southern wall.

With each step, Luz’s stance became more intimidating. Her shoulders broadened, her anger visibly flared, and her strides elongated.

She was infuriated.

Odalia had just dismissed a few slaves and was, unfortunately for her, still outside the main house.

Every footfall caused Luz to clench her fists tighter. The sight of the woman sent pure fire through her body, fueling her actions.

“She’s your daughter!” Luz yelled, coming up to the Blight household. The slaves stopped and leered.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking abo-” Odalia was cut short.

Luz grabbed Odalia’s palla and threw her against the wall, securing her by pressing against her shoulders with her left arm.

“You heard me.” Luz growled. “She’s your daughter. Amity is your daughter.”

Odalia sneered. “That abomination is not my daughter.”

“You’ve been passing her off as a slave for Gods know how long. Why?”

“I said,” Odalia spat, “That thing is not my daughter.”

Luz attempted to strike back, but was surprised by Alador opening the front door with a solemn guise present on his face. He looked at the legionnaire.

“She’s not worth your time.” He sighed, “Trust me, I would know.”

“Amity’s your daughter.”

Alador cast his gaze to the ground before resuming eye contact. His demeanor exuded fatigue, as if he had lied for far too long. His lips drooped then formed a line when he replied, a slight nod in his movements.

“She is.”

“Alador-”

“Not now, ‘Dalia.”

Luz’s force subsided, allowing the woman to slip from her clutches. However, said woman seemed as if she was about to burst. The centurion stood tall, clenching her fists once again and lifting her chin.

“Tell me everything.”

#lumity #toh #the owl house #lumity fic #luz noceda #amity blight #gus porter #willow park #toh fic #the owl house fic #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: abuse #odalia blight #alador blight #my fics

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stormwarnings · 4 years

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fic writer interview

i was tagged by @lemurious thank you :D

name: im stormwarnings on tumblr/ao3

fandoms: all for the game, tolkien (silm and lotr), and got dragged back into supernatural kicking and screaming

where you post: mostly ao3, but i put stuff thats less polished on tumblr too

most popular one-shot: doubt thou the stars be fire, my aftg fall exchange fic! its not my best, but i guess people like it which makes me happy

most popular multi-chap: black, the night that ends at last which was actually the first fic i ever wrote. i think its alright - i think my writing has definitely improved a lot since i started it in april. im glad people like it though, and its a wip but itll get finished someday :)

favorite story youve written so far: either my silm ‘fix-it’ bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh or my legolas/gimli orpheus and eurydice retelling we raise our cups

fic you were nervous to post: probably black, the night that ends at last because it deals with things pretty close to my heart, and also - first fic ever lmao

how do you choose your titles: music? random phrases that float into my head? a line of poetry thats just chilling? absolutely no clue its random

do you outline: lmao sometimes not frequently tho, id definitely benefit from doing so and maybe id have less wips but then again im bad at finishing stuff so probably not

complete: im not gonna leave any of my stories incomplete - ill finish them eventually. rn 19/23 fics on my ao3 are finished

in progress: ahaha ive got 4 fics according to ao3 that are incomplete - black (aftg longfic), see your face wasn’t quite as i remember (lotr era eldritchyness and sibling vibes), bone of my bone (silm fix it), and people like us (silm modern au with crime families). once i finish bone of my bone, i intend to add more stories to the 'verse (like the dawn) including ones centered around characters, and a chapter fic centered around the line of elu thingol and doriath. plus, ive still got a few more characters to go in my eldritch peredhil series, whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it

coming soon/not started yet: my aftg rbb fic, which im super excited tho slightly stymied by! plus my tss fic, which is almost done, but after that i intend to update some of my wips. im also writing a genderbent spn au bc im gay and love girls and terrifying angels

prompts: sure go wild i enjoy writing short things for other people when i can muster the productivity

upcoming work youre most excited about: the dang supernatural fic how did i get here i swore id never go back - but also seriously hyped to write more of my silm fix it whenever i manage to get around to it

i tag: uhh i dont actually know who hasnt been tagged? @thatfeanorian, @withfantasticgarlands, @xirinofarvada, and anyone else who wants to

#cat rambles #my writing #that was a lot of thinking #also now feeling guilt for the stories i havent worked on in like a month and a half #i swear ill write you kaltarossa i love you #mine

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philipsgaiamemories · 4 years

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Soulmates

Fandom: Kamen Rider Zero-One

Relationship: Fuwa Isamu/ Hiden Aruto

Summary: Fuwa never thought he would find his soulmate

Rating: Teen-ish

Notes: Not the happiest with this fic, but I want to write something shorter before I finish the other fic Ive been working on~ Hope you all like!

He couldn’t believe it…it wasn’t possible… Was it?

After all these years, Fuwa Isamu thought that he would be alone all his life. By his age, it was expected that he would have found his other half, his soulmate, fated to be with him from birth.

But, day by day, Fuwa went through life, his whole world gray and dull like dirty film over a lens. While all around him it seemed like everyone was finding their perfect match, color being breathed back into their lives. At first Fuwa felt almost envious of those couples, randomly finding one another in the street, meeting for the first time like those trashy romance novels teens read. Well…almost. Now, he just let the gray numbness take over, better to not feel than to get his hopes up.

That is of course until that faithful day.

-*-*

The dark haired cop found himself at Hiden Intelligence, with an easy job of babysitting their CEO. Running his fingers through his dark hair, Fuwa sighed, the noise of the lobby like a grating static in his mind. The young CEO was supposed to meet him first thing in the morning before going to some important meeting, and since Fuwa was early, he just decided to linger in the open area. Sliding into an empty seat, the dark haired boy crossed his long legs, his eyes glancing over the crowd. He felt totally out of place here, surrounded by all these educated, expensive suit wearing business people. And for all Fuwa knew, the CEO was just like that, surrounding himself by only other suits and important people.

“Oh, is that President Hiden?”

“Mm?” Fuwa’s ears perked up, hearing the hushed whispers of a pair of women standing close by. Sitting up slowly in the chair, the boy’s dark eyes danced across the room looking for his newest ward.

“Tsk, I hope he doesn’t tell one of those bad jokes!” The ladies continued to whisper, “He always tells those bad jokes!”

‘Bad jokes?’

A small commotion coming caught Fuwa’s attention, his gaze finally landing on a small group of businessmen walking towards the center of the lobby. Tilting his head, the dark haired bodyguard wondered which one of the suits was the president of the company. As they got closer, he could hear the small crowd groaning together, their faces completely unamused at whatever was being said.

“Eh?...”

Suddenly the sounds of the lobby faded away, replaced by what Fuwa could only compare to the jingling of silver bells. The dull suits parted just slightly, allowing the bodyguard to see a grinning young man between them, dressed in a suit jacket with a bright hoodie underneath it. The lean brunette eyes sparkled, as his lips parted, and there it was again, that wonderful, beautiful sound. But it wasn’t really bells of course, but the sound of the boy laughing that caused a stir within him. Fuwa suddenly found himself staring at the boy, at that beaming smile, and those flushed full cheeks.

Wait…it couldn’t be…?!

Fuwa felt the breath being knocked out of his throat, unable to deny that everything suddenly felt different. His brain was short circuiting, suddenly the noises were now louder, the bright sweatshirt that the CEO was wearing even brighter than before. It was as if the whole world turned up its intensity by 10!

“Ah!” Sitting up straight, the bodyguard felt his heart thundering his chest, realizing that businessman suddenly turned towards him. Fuwa’s whole body tingled like it was struck by lightning, their eyes meeting across the space. Their gaze never broke while the CEO’s full lips parted, speaking to the men next to him before parting ways.

‘Shit…’ This was going too fast, the lean brunette was making a bee line towards him, ‘He’s coming this way…!’

Fuwa fight or flight instincts suddenly kicked in. He wanted to run off, knowing full well what all of this meant; but at the same time, his body felt heavy underneath that bright curious gaze. He was stuck to the chair, easy prey for the young CEO as he walked up.

“H-H-hey…”

That voice immediately made Fuwa’s chest feel warm and tight, nervousness filling him. Normally the man had no problem speaking to people, (they may not like what he had to say of course), but the moment the brunette spoke, the boy felt his mouth go dry. The words died in his throat, as he took in the boy standing in front of him, staring shamelessly as his mouth gaped. The young CEO’s bright eyes danced underneath his brunette hair, his plump boyish cheeks flushed from his earlier laughing.

‘…Cute…’

The boy’s lower lip stuck out, his eyebrows furrowing in distress with Fuwa’s silence, “Hey…you ok?”

No. No, Fuwa wasn’t ok, not in the very least. How could he be when even pouting, the CEO was just…irresistible?

Taking a deep breath, the boy finally managed to murmur, “I-I’m ok…Hello Mr. President.”

That frown immediately turned right side up, his whole face beaming with the soft words. Shaking his head, the brunette chuckled softly, the sound of silver bells dancing in Fuwa’s ears.

“…Aw come on…don’t be like that!”

Sparks shot down Fuwa’s spine as the lean boy reached down wrapping his petite warm hands around his own. Giving it a gentle tug, the bodyguard was coaxed to his feet, letting his grip linger a little longer before letting go.

“…You can see it too right?! Everything is…brighter? You’re it huh? My soulmate!” The boy eagerly said, “I’m Hiden Aruto! What’s your name?!-“

“Sir?”

The two looked up, realizing that a dark haired girl with one of those humangear headpieces appeared next to them. Their moment suddenly ruined, Fuwa broke his gaze, taking a small step away from the lean boy. Biting his lower lip, the boy felt overwhelmed with emotion, a mix of annoyance and relief filling him. He hated that this stranger broke into their private conversation, but at the same time it gave him a moment to really take in what was happening.

Hiden Aruto…was his soulmate?…

“The meeting.”

“Ah yes! Um, Fuwa-san…”

His name on the boys lips, sent a shudder down the bodyguard’s spine, as if a fingertip dragged gently down his back. He turned his gaze back to Aruto, who looked at him with these impossibly wide and curious eyes. The CEO looked like he wanted to say so much, but with the girl there next to him he dropped their conversation entirely.

“Of course Sir, please let me lead you to the car.” And Fuwa decided it was easier to just let it go too.

Escorting the young CEO to his car was easy, but the moment they got into the enclosed space of the vehicle Fuwa knew he was in trouble. The brunette sat in the center of the backseat, the bodyguard forced to sit next to him. It was still too soon for the dark haired bodyguard, so he turned his gaze out of the window and the passing cars.

Gods, was why was it so warm in the car?! And what was that delicious scent?!

“Ah! Sorry!”

Turning his head, Fuwa felt something bump up against his shoulder as the car turned a corner. Looking over, he watched as Aruto sat up straight, his head lifting to slyly meet Fuwa’s gaze. Locking their gaze, the boy blushed hotly, wondering if was the only one who was feeling this way. It should have been obvious, that the light scent of lavender filling his nose, and the warmth was coming from the lean boy next to him. The gaze was so overwhelming Aruto’s dark eyes sparkling with unspoken words, that Fuwa had to turn away, pretending that something interesting was happening outside the window.

Fuwa could almost feel the anxiety, mixed with just a rush of jumbled emotions that made his chest tight. Was this what being soulmates felt like?!

The car ride took forever, and the business meeting much longer. Fuwa was no stranger to boring meetings that seemed to last forever, but this one was especially unbearable. As the stuffy businessmen talked and attempted to negotiate, the bodyguard stood in the side watching everyone with practiced disinterest. But disinterested was far from what the dark haired boy was, his eyes lingering on the lean brunette at the head of the table. He noticed sunbeams pouring into the room from the window bouncing off the boys hair, giving it a warm caramel look. And every second that passed the bodyguard could feel the young businessman’s emotions radiating from him like the sun. Fuwa could tell he was getting impatient, the boy’s voice carrying an edge to it, even though he continued with his energetic and polite conversation. Could no one else hear it? Could no one tell he was growing impatient with the meeting?

And how did no one notice those stolen glances he was sending Fuwa out of the corner of his eye? Secret looks that just screamed, ‘get me out of here’. Not to mention that impossibly endearing blush that crossed his face when Aruto noticed Fuwa watching him.

Finally after what felt like hours, the young CEO completed his contract with those stuffy businessmen, providing them with humangear for their company. It was a successful trip for the boys company, so he chatted with his secretary in the car, giving her instructing her on their next steps. Fuwa was relieved though, because that meant Aruto’s attention wasn’t on him.

It was already bad enough that he could feel the boys knees brushing up against him, reminding Fuwa how achingly close Aruto’s warm body was. And how the brunette’s voice caressing his ears, as if the boy was right against them

Ugh, how much longer?!

Fuwa was beginning to get anxious by the end of the car ride, being in such close proximity to the other driving him crazy. Aruto’s inviting warmth and scent taunted him, filled all of the dark haired bodyguard senses. He had to resist, all of this had to be a mistake, the brunette was a CEO, and all he was…was a bodyguard.

Yes, if he just ignored it…it might just go away…

“Sir, we’re here!”

Sliding out of the expensive car, Fuwa turned to bow at the businessman before excusing himself, hoping to quickly leave. If he was able to get away, maybe he could get away from the irresistible calling of the soul bond.

“Fuwa-san…“

Damn, Fuwa felt his heart tighten, Aruto’s voice causing him to stop right in his tracks. Running his fingers through his dark curly hair, the boy tried to sound calm and composed. “Yeah Pres?”

“Escort me up to the office?”

“Eh?” A soft surprised noise fell from Fuwa’s lips, his eyebrow lifting at the sudden request. “Oh…yeah… sure.”

With a few soft words, Aruto dismissed his secretary before motioning the other to follow him. Unable to resist the two walked through the lobby in silence, an air of anxiety between them as they entered into a special elevator after the CEO swiped a card next to the entrance. Motioning the other to follow him into the small space, the two entered Aruto’s private elevator.

‘Shit…shit…’ The whole day, Fuwa was able to avoid having this conversation but Aruto was not giving him much choice. “Pres. I-“

“Let’s talk in my office…” Aruto cut him off, a bright smile crossing his face. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day, and no one will disturb us there!”

Biting his bottom lip, the bodyguard shifted anxiously in place, the soft humming of the elevator filling his ears. Fuwa didn’t want to be left alone with the CEO though, the whole day he had been trying to deal with these new emotions and now the has to face them head on. Finally, a soft ding alerted the two that they reached their destination. As the door slid open, Aruto exited first, leaving Fuwa to follow in his footsteps right into the spacious office. The whole place was bright and sun filled, giving it the same warm feeling that Aruto emitted. Simple yet elegant couches filled the space, and in the middle was an expensive looking desk covered in a mix of paperwork and…toys?

“Fuwa-san?”

Suddenly, small hands took hold of his jacket sleeve, forcing the bodyguard to turn his attention back to the lean brunette. Their eyes locked, and suddenly Fuwa forgot how to breathe, those brownie eyes searching his. Aruto’s body was once again too close, making Fuwa’s heart rush in his chest.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day…can’t you…feel this?”

Fuwa’s lips parted, a soft noise escaping his throat; of course he could, how could he not?!

Aruto gave the fabric an insistent tug his eyes widening, “I never thought I would just meet my other half just like that! I mean…isn’t it just fate?!”

The boy kept babbling, going on and on about how everything felt different now, and how he finally understood what it meant to find your ‘soul mate’. It was all too much, all too fast!

“Pres!” Fuwa’s voice came out a lot like a bark, cutting Aruto off. “Pres, just…stop. This can’t be right!”

Reaching down, the dark haired boy took the CEO’s soft hand gently pulling it away from his suit jacket. Taking a deep breath, Fuwa tried to ignore the electricity that ran through him with the simple touch before letting go. Gods, his hands were so soft, reflecting his gentle work, nothing like Fuwa’s, dotted with rough callouses from his job.

“Pres…this can’t be right…I…” Running his fingers through his messy hair in irritation, the boy grunted, “I am just a bodyguard, and you’re-“

“I’m Aruto!” The boy stuck out his bottom lip in a pout, emphasizing his name. “Hi-den A-ru-to. It doesn’t matter that I am some CEO, what matters is…what matters is that…I…”

Aruto’s face flushed the most wonderful shade of pink, before murmuring, “…want to…kiss you…”

“K-Kiss?”

Fuwa almost felt his legs give out underneath him with that admittance, the breath knocked out of his lungs. He…wanted to kiss him? His face immediately felt hot with the thought, a shameless noise escaping him. Unable to control himself, Fuwa’s dark eyes lowered down, once again glancing at Aruto’s full lips. Just watching the young CEO shyly shifted in place, his eyes wide waiting for Fuwa’s response, made him weak. It was unfair how charming it was, and how easy it was for Aruto to cause such an intense reaction in the bodyguard.

Fuwa had never wanted to kiss someone so badly as he did at that second.

“I…” Fuwa’s mouth was dry as he struggled to form the words, “I…want to kiss you too…”

The bodyguard barely got to enjoy Aruto’s bright smile, before he felt petite hands cupping his face. Suddenly electricity shot down his spine, soft lips now pressed up against Fuwa’s in a clumsy kiss. The bodyguard’s mind short circuited, gods, Aruto’s lips were just as soft as he imagined!

“Mm…” Unable to control himself, Fuwa’s hands found themselves clutching onto the boys colorful sweatshirt pulling their bodies closer. A soft hiss escaped the bodyguard, feeling Aruto shudder against him, the CEO’s small arms wrapping around his neck. It was all fuel for Fuwa, urging him on as he greedily savored the taste of the boys lips. Had kissing always been this…good?!

No…It wasn’t as if the dark haired boy kissed a lot of people, but this…this was different. Even though they had just met, the two kissed like their lives depended on it.

The moment Aruto’s lips parted, Fuwa took advantage, aggressively sliding his tongue against the other. And with every pass of his tongue, the bodyguard was reward with soft gasps and whimpers from the brunette. He couldn’t get enough of the boys taste, the noises, and the sweet way his fingers curled into Fuwa’s curls. It was all so electrifying, that the dark haired boy subconsciously pulled at the boys hoodie even more, trying to urge Aruto closer. In the distance, Fuwa could hear things being knocked around, but he couldn’t seem to be bothered with it. Especially since the young CEO didn’t resist the slightly rough treatment, melting against the other kissing the other with just as much fervor.

“Ah…” The sound of panting rose between the two as Fuwa was forced to pull away from Aruto’s lips. But he didn’t fully want to let go of the kiss, so unable to help himself from gently sinking his teeth into the boys soft lips. Softly gasping for breath, the dark haired bodyguard forced air back into his burning lungs before slowly opening his eyes. “Ah…”

Shit…

When his eyes finally focused, he was met with the warm brownie gaze of Aruto, now glazed over from their intense kiss. The CEO’s face was flushed a beautiful pink, lips parted, wet and swollen, giving Aruto a wonderfully ravished look. The long eye flashes of the brunette fluttered closed as the boy silently inviting the other to continue. Fuwa’s immediately wanted to take Aruto up on the offer for the kiss, and draw out more of those cute noises he was making, but something was off…

Fuwa’s mind struggled to pull itself out of the fog, focusing enough to figure out what was wrong. Instantly the boy knew what was wrong; the young brunette was now not at eyelevel with the bodyguard. How did-…

Oh…

It finally dawned on him, what exactly happened while they were kissing. The two had moved blindly around the office until they were at Aruto’s modern desk…with Aruto somehow now perched on its edge. Fuwa’s cheeks burned, finding himself nestled in between the lean legs of the brunette, hands pressing into his sides, pinning him to the table. It was becoming painfully obvious that those sounds that he had heard, was from Fuwa lifted Aruto and unceremoniously placed the CEO on top of his desk; shoving everything else out of the way.

“Pres-…I…” The dark haired bodyguard’s mouth dropped slightly, embarrassment washing over him. “I-I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me!”

Fuwa tried to move away from the CEO, but the boy kept his grip around the bodyguard’s neck keeping him still.

Aruto tilted his head, brunette hair falling into his darkened eyes. “…Why are you apologizing…”

Swallowing hard, the hot-headed bodyguard felt heat pooling within him, the CEO’s voice now breathy and soft.

“…Fuwa…please…you’re my soul mate…”

The words sent a shiver down the bodyguards spine, his heart skipping in his chest feeling the need radiating from the lean CEO.

“…Don’t reject me…” Aruto whispered, “Please…”

He should know better, Fuwa’s mind screamed at him that the brunette was a CEO, and that he was just a bodyguard for hire with nothing to offer…that it couldn’t be possible that they were meant to be… but…

Fuwa leaned in, his fingers tightening around the boys clothes before roughly capturing Aruto’s lips, wrapping himself in the warmth of the boys arms. A sudden swell of defiance rose within in, so what if he had nothing to offer and they wouldn’t make sense? He couldn’t deny his body’s immediate reaction to the cute CEO, every kiss sending sparks of lightening down his spine. The bodyguard had never felt such a need to be so close, to touch and explore another person like this before.

In between kisses, Fuwa softly whispered, “…If…you want me Pres…”

‘I’m yours…’ His heart ached with the thought, unable to form the words with his lips.

A sudden thrum of warm emotion emanating from Aruto pulsed through the bodyguard, the CEO smiling against Fuwa’s mouth. It was almost sweet how easy it was to read the cute brunette, every kiss screamed his need for the other.

He couldn’t believe it, they had just met this morning, and already the dark haired boy could feel the other’s emotions as clear as his own.

Aruto…Aruto the CEO…was HIS soulmate. Was his, and he was never going to let him go.

#Fuwa Isamu #Hiden Aruto #Kamen Rider Zero One #Kamen Rider Zero-One #Soulmates #Soulmates!AU #Mun Writes

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romana73 · 5 years

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REYLO FANFIC: YIN AND YAN. CHAPTER IV

WRITER: Romana73 TIME: One year after Star Wars. Episode VIII. The Last Jedi THEME AND FANDOM: Star Wars RATING: Explicit TITLE: Yin and Yan CATEGORIES: M/F COUPLES: Kylo Ren/Ben Solo and Rey CHARACTERS: Rey, Kylo Ren / Ben Solo, Anakin Skywalker (nominated), BB - 8, Knights of Ren, Chewbacca, Darth Vader (nominated), Finn, General Hux, Han Solo (nominated), Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, Poe Dameron, Rose Tico, boys from Canto Bright, Snoke (nominated), various Resistance and First Order fighters WARNINGS: The characters, the world and the stories of Star Wars AREN’T MINE AND DON’T BELONG TO ME, but they are created and owned by George Lucas, Lucasfilm, Disney, J.J. Abrams and Rian Johnson and the actors who play the Star Wars characters and their stories. I’M NOT IN ANY WAY LINKED TO THESE PEOPLE AND CINEMATOGRAPHIC HOUSES. I DON’T KNOW NO ONE OF THEM and I’M IN NO WAY IN CONTACT WITH THEM WARNINGS 2: violence, also at the language level. The starting idea of this story derives from a leaks I read last year and which struck my imagination CHAPTER I can be found HERE: https://romana73.tumblr.com/post/189784450126/reylo-fanfiction-yin-e-yan CHAPTER II can be found HERE: https://romana73.tumblr.com/post/189959876431/reylo-fanfic-yin-and-yan-part-2

CHAPTER III can be found HERE: https://romana73.tumblr.com/post/190301208881/reylo-fanfic-yin-and-yan-3-part

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CHAPTER IV

- Why do you think I let myself be captured? - Kylo asked casually.

Standing in front of Rey, Kylo folded his lips in a fleeting amused smile. Rey stared at him, raising an eyebrow. -Oh well, maybe I just wanted to meet you in person ... to see you and touch you live ... I was tired of remote connections - he continued in a light tone. Rey darkened, glaring at him with a glance. Excruciating pain in head he had caused her with his constant attempts to force their connection was still alive. Kylo seemed to read her mind. He frowned, taking on a stern expression. -I warned you not to resist when things like that happen. You could have died! - He finished, thundering. Rey was startled in spite of herself, hearing his voice rumbling in room almost to shake walls. She looked around to see if boy's tone had attracted anyone, but nobody appeared. Rey turned against him, like a tiger whose foot was trodden. -You used me, betrayed me, tried to manipulate me, why on earth would I have to reopen the connection? I repeat what I said to you under torture: I won’t give you anything! - Rey growled at him. Kylo blinked in surprise, opening his mouth in amazement. His surprise lasted a blink, then his face hardened. Kylo took a slow step towards Rey. She held her breath, stiffening, but refused to let emotion leak. -I don't remember doing anything like that. I thought you were going to be on my side. You were trusting me, we were on same wavelength, instead you abandoned me! You turned against me, you attacked me like a coward! - He growled, trying to dominate her. - I turned against you? - Rey repeated, hissing and clenching her eyes and fists

- I'm not your dog!- She snapped indignantly. -I'm not even a murderess! You demanded I turn away while you massacred innocent people, my friends and even your mother! - Rey looked him in eyes, challenging him. Kylo swallowed heavily, without breaking eyes contact. - Now you're even killing children ... you suck me! - She screamed. He turned his face to one side, as if Rey had slapped him. Supreme Leader stared back at her, folding his mouth in a bitter smile. -Once again you think you know everything ... I thought I taught you to investigate thoroughly before sentencing ... - -It’s Knights of Ren who carry out murders and, if I'm not mistaken, they only obey you ... - Rey replied in a biting tone. -Um, yes ... well, let's talk later, do you want? Now we have to go - Kylo said absently, looking quickly at a black leather strap that he wore on his right wrist and Rey noticed only at that moment. She frowned. He had a bad feeling about that strange bracelet. -You are so impulsive ... you think always later ... - Kylo observed.

Rey took a step back, as the feeling of danger grew stronger. Bringing a hand behind her back, the young woman slowly drew her lightsaber, lighting it, while keeping her eyes fixed on him. Kylo absently looked at weapon Rey held in her hand. Supreme Leader smiled, taking on an air between bored and benevolent. Suddenly, handcuffs around Kylo's wrists fell to his feet, with a dull thud that made a shiver run down Rey's spine. She felt freezing, looking at Kylo's free hands. Moving fast, he kicked cuffs away from him and Rey, then, he grabbed her wrist. Rey felt as if he was squeezing her wrist and instinctively dropped lightsaber. Kylo picked up weapon, tucking it into his belt, while spinning Rey on himself, imprisoning her with one arm. Rey tried to free himself in any way. - Ah! - She screamed, feeling a pain in her arm. Kylo's grip felt like steel. -You're hurting yourself. You can't even use Force here - he advised her quietly as he looked around. Rey saw him raise one hand and draw handcuffs to him. Her eyes widened, she sensed his intentions and started fighting again. Kylo didn’t loosen his grip. Following her body movements, Supreme Leader surrounded Rey with other arm, hardly managing to block her wrists in anti-Force handcuffs. -You didn't thought I was present while Luke was building this cell. I know his tricks and, then, I can get by even without Force - Kylo whispered in Rey's ear, smiling and blocking her against him. She could feel her back press against Supreme Leader's wide chest, but she refused to linger on that fact.

-I can do better without Force, because I have lived longer than you, without even knowing I have it! - Rey replied firmly. Kylo grimaced, shrugging. -True ... - he murmured absently.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion caused wall behind them to collapse. Rey jumped, closing her eyes, while Kylo turned his face, quietly contemplating collapsed wall, while a broad and rudimentary opening was formed in its place. Sweating coldly, Rey watched a handful of Stormtroopers rush in and go up prison stairs, while a man dressed in black, wearing a helmet made from a blast furnace plate stopped beside Kylo Ren. Shivering, with a grimace of disgust, Rey noticed newcomer was carrying a huge cannon on his arm, modified almost beyond belief and concussion grenades on his chest. -Cardo - Kylo addressed him, with a dark and serious expression. - On time - - Thanks, Ren. I only carried out your orders - other replied dryly. Rey sensed change in Kylo Ren. From moment wall had collapsed, Kylo seemed to have raised another, impenetrable, wall inside him, but she had no time to think about it. Gunshots, screams and excited voices ripped Rey from his thoughts. Battle raged on floor above them. Rey's mind worked fast. Two men had talked about orders and schedules, but for two days, Kylo had been their prisoner, how he... memory of strange bracelet she had noticed on boy's wrist came back to Rey's mind. A transmitter, that's what it was, how stupid! Rey closed her eyes, blaming herself. “It isn’t your fault. I remind you, for a while, you have been out of game... " Kylo's voice reached her head loud and clear, as if he had spoken, instead he was communicating telepathically. - Did you find what you were looking for? - Cardo asked Kylo Ren - In part- he replied, nodding towards Rey. -I think it will be longer than expected. Call soldiers back, I don't want to ... - - REYYY! REY! - Finn's anxious voice interrupted Kylo’s words. The trio turned their eyes to access stairs. Rey held her breath. With wide eyes, she watched Finn fly down stairs, turning to shoot two Stormtroopers on his heels, before looking at Rey. The boy looked in pure horror at his handcuffed friend, held locked by an arm of Supreme Leader. -Leave her alone!- Finn screamed, frowning, his flashing black pupils, pointing blaster he held in his hand towards Kylo Ren. Supreme Leader remained in hush, staring calmly at ex former Stromtrooper. -Call the men. Let's go - Kylo ordered, turning his head towards Cardo.

He brought a transmitter in front of his mouth, ordering handful of soldiers to return. Kylo turned his back on Finn, starting to move towards breach in wall Cardo had previously opened, dragging Rey with him. She stumbled over her feet, but just holding her tight, Kylo prevented her from falling. -Stop! - Finn yelled again, arming his blaster - Finn! Rey! - Poe's voice came to Rey's ear.

The pilot stopped beside his friend, also drawing his weapon and pointing it at Kylo's back. Young target sighed, continuing to walk. Behind them rhythmic footsteps of the returning Stormtroopers were heard. Soldiers passed Kylo, Rey and Cardo, pouring into hole in the wall. - Teacher! Teacher! - Two infant voices joined those of Finn and Poe. Rey stopped instantly. Struggling to free herself, she managed to turn to the children. -Milo, Cleena! Get out of here! Be safe! - Rey yelled, agitated.

Without letting go her, Kylo saw two children staring at him. One was small, blond, with blue eyes open and curious. Kylo narrowed his mouth feeling a big Force power, but also serenity and calm emanated from boy. He was struck by girl eyes, whom Rey had called Cleena. Force also flowed powerful in her. Biting her lower lip, girl stared at him from bottom up, with a dangerous light in her dark brown eyes. Curly and long hair of a reddish brown fell on her shoulders like a fiery mane. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old, but she seemed already pervaded by a deep anger. A fury Supreme Leader recognized had only one goal. Him.

Cardo raised his cannon arm, aiming it at group in front of them. - If you want, I'll sweep them away ... - he said, turning to Kylo. -Yuo damn killer! - Rey roared, fighting against Kylo's grip in an attempt to assault Cardo. Taken by surprise, Ren's Knight stepped back, whistling with admiration towards Rey. - You captured a proud tiger ...- he observed, watching Kylo struggle to keep hold of Rey. -Rey! Get away from him! - Finn yelled, trying to aim. He gave up nervously. Kylo Ren didn’t loosen his grip on Rey, making it impossible to shoot him without hitting her. Suddenly, an idea hit Finn's mind. Rey had once explained to him Jedi healed wounds. Dark Side adepts lost, however, this ability when they succumbed to evil. So maybe ... he could hit Kylo by hurting Rey? Leia was sure to help cure her and he was a great shooter. He could hit her without causing her serious harm. Kylo turned to him, as if he had read his mind. -Really? Would you have courage to do it? I’m amazed at you, FN-2187. Do you hate me so much? - Kylo forced Rey to straighten up and, holding her against him, with his hands under his chin, placed himself with her in front of Finn, challenging him with his eyes and a malicious smile. -Come on, shoot! I'll stop your bullet before it hits us and I'll turn it against you! - Kylo urged him. Rey shook her head. -Finn, no. Please. You would die unnecessarily ... - Rey murmured, as a tear ran down her face. Finn looked his friend in eyes, while Milo, Cleena and Poe stared at him waiting for a sign would reveal their friend's intentions, causing them to act accordingly. Kylo chuckled bitterly. -You don't know what he was going to do to you ... - he whispered in Rey's ear. - Bastard! You know very well that I ... I ... - Finn growled, still pointing the blaster at Kylo. -Stop! - A sweet but firm voice shook everyone in the room, as if waking them from a dream, dissipating tension in room. Cardo also seemed impressed. His arm also lowered, without him noticing. Leia appeared in room, as the sunniest of apparitions. Rey sensed a change in Kylo. Young man swallowed empty. -Let go Rey- Leia ordered, putting her hands on Cleena's shoulders and staring her son in eyes, with a resolute expression. -You lost, General Organa. Accept defeat and my magnanimous gesture - Kylo replied becoming, if possible, even darker. -I'll let you live- he added, looking away from woman in spite of himself.

Rey watched scene silently, sweating cold, confused. At that moment, Kylo looked like a boiling volcano. That was first time mother and son met after he killed Han Solo. Rey felt like she was skewered by a thousand daggers. One more cruel and painful than other, but emotion didn’t belong to her, but to Kylo Ren. Supreme Leader seemed to be pierced by a thousand lightsabers and each hit a deep wound. Rey staggered. -Enough! - She heard herself say, as if her voice didn't belong to her. Everyone stopped, staring at her. Rey turned his head, looking up at Kylo. -Let them go and I'll come with you - Rey proposed slowly. -No, Rey! - Finn and Poe snapped in unison -Rey ... no need ... - Leia's voice and expression softened. Kylo shrugged. -Unlike what you think, I don't like blackmailing people and I don't like being made fun of ... - Kylo replied, staring in Rey’s eyes. -I'm not setting you a trap - Rey defended herself. - Okay, then... - Kylo let go of Rey.

She wobbled in surprise at act. Supreme Leader moved a hand and Rey's wrists were free of anti-Force handcuffs. -Please, let's go - Kylo moved a hand, indicating to walk in front of him. Rey felt her eyes fill with tears as she contemplated her friends for last time. -Leia ... - she whispered, bringing a hand to her chest. Woman smiled, nodding. General Organa's eyes moved to his son's face, studying him openly. Kylo returned, watching her sideways, then he bent to pick up handcuffs, while Rey passed in front of him. Kylo put a hand on girl's back, guiding her to exit. -Teacher! - Cleena shouted, moving to chase Rey.

A small, chubby hand closed around the girl's wrist, holding her back. Cleena turned around, surprised to find was Milo who blocked her. Boy looked at his friend with a smile, then turned to Leia and nodded.

———————————————————————————————————–

Rey felt empty and disoriented as she walked with her back straight and her chin up in front of Kylo, wiping away every minute tears burned her eyes. Ever since they left Resistance base, young Supreme Leader hadn't spoken, standing behind her, still holding one hand on her back. Nodding, Kylo had ordered Cardo to walk in front of Rey, closing off any escape routes for her. But Rey didn’t want to escape. They had been walking in forest for two hours and, although trained, Rey was exhausted. Multitude of emotions felt that day had exhausted her. From moment they captured Kylo, she had suspected something strange, but would never have thought of ending up in trap. The line stopped. Rey saw soldiers pass them and run forward. Cardo turned to Kylo. - The Finalizer isn’t far away, with your permission Ren, I would go and prepare everything for departure ... - he announced. Kylo nodded. Cardo moved away and Rey was alone with Kylo. - If you believe I will submit to you, then you have not understood anything ... - without turning around, Rey warned Kylo with his teeth gritted. A disturbance in Force drew both attention. Rey didn't have time to focus. Coming from behind, Kylo locked her wrists again with anti-Force handcuffs, also harnessing her perception. Ignoring her bad looks and grimaces of annoyance, he lifted Rey in his arms, following last stretch separated them from his ship on foot. Not far away, two powerful shadows followed them.

#adam driver #ben solo #daisy ridley #fanfic #fanfiction #kylo ren #my fanfiction #rey #reylo #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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kimlovesgrahamscott · 4 years

Note

you should do 'i have your loved one' for the bad things happen bingo!

Bad Things Happen Bingo #3: I Have Your Loved One

Fandom: Life is Strange

Characters/Pairings: Nathan Prescott & Victoria Chase (Platonic)

You can find me (and a copy of this story) on Ao3!

Victoria

Nathan was trembling as his phone dropped to the ground. He let it lie there on the floor, trying to steady his breathing. It would be no use for him to panic. The more he resisted the more his throat seemed to constrict, his vision blurring. He was fucked, that much was certain, but why did Victoria have to be dragged into all this?

Though at that point he didn't know the full scope of what Jefferson did while Nathan was put under, he still didn't want his friends to end up in the Dark Room. Not after what happened with Rachel. He fought Jefferson tooth and nail over making sure Victoria was never brought to that fucking bunker. Yet there on his burner phone, even with it's shit resolution, Victoria was unmistakably bound on the Dark Room floor. He hadn't the faintest idea of how to get her out safely but he needed to get to her quickly. He could feel the need gnawing at his stomach - she would get out of there safe and alive, even if he couldn't.

He'd never been the safest driver, as evidenced by his broken taillight, but his safety was low on the list of his priorities. Victoria was his everything, the only safety that he had. The only person he could be honest with about what went on in his head. The voices. The hallucinations. The crippling self-loathing. Though he did love Mark and some part of him still put a lot of trust in his mentor, Victoria was the only person he thought might actually love him unconditionally. She loved him even with his many, many, many flaws - not in spite of them.

The next part was a blur, another moment to add to the list of times where his mind was far from his body. He remembered sounds, sensations. The creek of him opening the wooden broken door with the broken latch, the tip-toeing of what felt like lead feet down the stairs and the beeps as he entered in the code to the main bunker door. He was only a few steps in when he felt a familiar prick in his neck. Of course, Mark had been waiting for him.

“No,” Nathan grogged, his legs becoming heavy. He tried to lift his arm, wanting to get out at least one shot before he lost consciousness but knew he wouldn’t have the strength to grip the gun. He managed to get out, “Mark, not Victoria, please…” before he went under.

Nathan was surprised that he woke up at all, wide awake on the Dark Room floor by the coffee table. His arms were bound behind his back, his legs duct-taped from thigh to ankle. He knew Mark was going to kill him and was surprised he wasn't already dead. He’d fucked up too much. He fucked up with Rachel. He fucked up with Kate. He wasn’t going to let Victoria get hurt, too. He was determined to make sure that didn’t happen.

Nathan did what he could to break free; fighting against the rope constraining his wrists only seemed to make them tighten. Trying to free his legs did nothing but tire him out. It took all the strength he had to sit up, observing, hoping to find something he could use to help Victoria. Mark was too smart, though. The only things on the coffee table, the only things he might be able to reach, was a cup filled with amber liquid and the remote to the stereo system. He was fucked. He struggled, and struggled, and struggled against the rope, his stomach churning and the bile rising up his throat as he remembered the first time Mark had used that rope on him.

Things had been so different then. He thought that Mark had actually loved him. He knew nothing of the Dark Room’s true purpose. He was in love. Nothing mattered more than being with Mark, making Mark happy. Their own private studio seemed to be a brilliant idea. Mark could tutor him privately, so there would be no distractions and no witnesses if he and Mark wanted to be alone. He trusted Mark enough to willingly let Mark tie him up, to be completely helpless because Mark was his everything. Mark made him feel good, loved, adored, and safe. From the first moment Mark had expressed an interest in him, he’d really felt like his life was turning around. Finally, for the first time since Kristine had left years before, he felt hope for the future.

Then everything -like always- turned to shit.

Nathan screamed when he realized that he was no closer to freeing himself than when he’d started trying to unravel the knots in the rope. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been going at it but it was long enough that his fingers were cramping, unable to cooperate with what he was trying to do. He screamed until his throat was raw and the tears started pouring out. He had no way to save Victoria. He was failing, fucking up like he always did.

With the little strength he had left, he wiggled his way to Victoria. She was his best friend, probably the only person who ever really had loved him, the real him, and he had failed her. They were both going to die; the only thing he could hope for was that her death was quick and painless.

As he neared Victoria, seeing her dazed eyes, he pleaded, “Victoria, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” before sobbing incoherently again. He’d failed her, he’d failed his best friend, and they were both going to die. Everyone he’d ever loved either left him, betrayed him, or he ended up causing them to die.

After an indeterminable amount of time, Nathan heard the door open. Mark was furious, a string of expletives escaping his lips. It wasn’t long before Nathan felt kicks to his ribs for the second time that day.

“They didn’t take the fucking bait!” Mark screamed before a kick landed on Nathan’s face. He was dragged away from Victoria and onto the couch, Mark muttering about how he didn’t have enough time, how everything was so fucked.

“You ruined EVERYTHING!” Jefferson screamed before smacking Nathan’s face, making sure the hit landed where Nathan had already been bruised by Warren earlier in the day. “You stupid bitch! You left a trail of clues.” Mark put gloves on before grabbing a pocket knife. “I’m going to make sure you die slowly. It will look like you killed Victoria before taking your own life.”

Nathan struggled, still determined to do something, anything. There had to be a way to save Victoria. There just had to be some way. Even with his adrenalin pumping, he still had too little fight in him. He winced as the knife pierced his flesh, knowing that the police would do little investigating into his death since the cut was surrounded by numerous others. Scars. Scabs. Up and down both arms. It was deep, deeper than any cuts he’d ever made himself. He looked at Jefferson with wide eyes, pleading.

“Mark…”

Another slap. Nathan’s ears were ringing so loudly he’d barely heard Jefferson say, “I’m going to make you suffer.”

Nathan felt sick as Mark grabbed the camera, throwing Victoria around like a ragdoll and taking pictures. He tried to scream, say anything when Mark started removing Victoria’s leggings, but he was unable to do more than whisper, “Stop.” He didn’t know why his weakness surprised him. His ears never had stopped ringing, his vision blurring on the edges. He was clammy and dizzy and it took an exorbitant amount of effort to keep his eyes open.

The last thing Nathan heard before losing consciousness was the sound of a gun.

When Nathan woke up, he thought he was dead. The room was white; almost everything in the room was white and it was too bright. He turned toward a beeping sound, making out a green line. A cardiogram. His cardiogram, he realized as his vision started clearing and he noticed that there were many wires and such connecting him to the machine. There was a clear IV dripping something and he wondered if that was why he was largely numb.

“Nathan?” The voice seemed to echo and Nathan was all-too-aware of how dizzy he was. Nauseous. Gagging. Dry heaving until bile spewed from his mouth. Someone had been kind enough to catch it with a container so he didn’t spit up all over himself. He felt a hand on his back, stroking beneath his neck. A gentle touch. The bile bucket was taken away and a cup of water was brought to his lips. His eyes closed, drinking eagerly. His throat had never been that dry in his life and he couldn’t get enough water. He heard someone say his name again but the dizziness was starting to subside; he knew that voice. He could never forget that voice.

“Vic-” was all Nathan could get out before a coughing fit, wincing as the cough jousted his still-bruised ribs. “Victoria.” She was quite literally a sight for sore eyes. “Are we dead?”

Victoria smiled for the first time in days as she said, “No, Nate, we’re not.”

There was more he wanted to say, that he needed to say to his best friend but their conversation was interrupted by nurses and doctors. Victoria stayed. Nathan kept apologizing, telling Victoria that she didn’t need to stay in the hospital with him but she insisted she stay. She stayed late into the night, only leaving to eat and go to the bathroom. It was hours before they were alone again.

They were watching something on Netflix, eating hospital Jell-O Cups as Nathan finally got to say,”I’m so sorry Victoria.”

Victoria groaned, rolling her eyes as she told him to stop it. In the days between the Dark Room being discovered and Nathan waking up, Max had filled her in on everything and for once Nathan was happy that Max was such a nosey bitch.

“But Vicky, he could’ve killed you.” Nathan wouldn’t be able to function without his best friend; he’d taken her for granted and he almost lost her. Never again. “And it’s all my damn fault. Why are you here? You should fucking hate me.”

“You came to try to save me,” Victoria retorted. “Nate, you’re my best friend. Nothing could ever change that.”

He hoped she’d still feel that way after everything was revealed at the trial.

#kim writes #bad things happen bingo #I have your loved one #nathan prescott #life is strange

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rinusagitora · 5 years

Text

The love, lead, and the undead

Fandom: Monster Prom

Characters: Vicky Schmidt, Damien LaVey, Brian Yu, Oz, Zoe, Lucien LaVey, Stan LaVey, Vera Oberlin, Amira Rashid, Joy Johson-Junpei, Hope, OC: Quilo, OC: Hugo Aquino

Pairings: BriDamiVicky, Oz/Zoe, LaVey family, Aquino family,

Words: 5.3k

Summary: Canon divergent. Chapter 9/?. WARNINGS— unreality, violence, & gore; Vicky is in the hands of the Aquino.

Vicky felt like violent static. Like glass and ash swirled like a storm in a skin sack. They congregated into white-hot bone and boiled viscera, and when she finally opened her hot eyes and gasped for air in new lungs, she gagged on rot and mucus lodged in her chest.

She flung herself off the side of her bed and coughed up bits and pieces of insides onto the pristine floor so forcefully it made her entire back hurt.

“Get it all out,” Vera cooed. She rubbed Vicky’s back.

“Water!” Vicky pleaded. Zoe, ice water in hand, cupped Vicky’s chin and poured it down her throat. Vicky spewed it onto the floor seconds later. She snatched the cup out of Zoe’s hold and downed the remainder in only a couple of swallows.

Finally, Vicky, breathless curled up on the mattress, pillows forgone, and let her eyes fall shut.

“Vicky?” Vera whispered.

“I’m tired,” she said. “Oz and I were in a fight and—” her eyes flew open. She whipped upright and screamed, “Oz! He’s in trouble!”

Before Vicky ripped IVs out of her arms, Vera forced her down onto her pillows. “Lay down. We’ll take care of Oz, alright?”

“I’ll watch her. Go make some calls,” Zoe said.

Vera left. Vicky tearfully clutched her chest. She had no idea what happened. One second, she was on a murder spree to escape the Aquino castle, and the next she was ash, and then she was in a pristine laboratory. Oz was abandoned and overwhelmed.

“I don’t… this is a lot,” Vicky said. She wiped her nose on her hand. Everything was congested and runny. It was weird being back in a body.

“I know, but we’re glad you’re back. Just focus on yourself for the time being.”

“I don’t want to. I want this to make sense. I want to see Brian and Damien.”

“You’ll see them soon. Vera’s calling backup for Oz, and she’s going to get Brian over here. Damien will be here as soon as we make sure Oz is okay.”

Vicky, although frustrated by her uselessness and worry, understood there wasn’t much she was able to do for the time being but wait until everyone was back home

—

Damien was brought to attention when someone or something slid into their dirt cave. He was relieved that Joy finally came for them. He kicked Hope’s foot and she was startled awake.

“Fuck,” Hope mumbled groggily.

As they crawled into the open, Damien eagerly asked, “Is Vicky back?” It was such an awful ordeal. He was emotionally drained. If he wasn’t able to attain his vengeance, all he wanted was Vicky back in his arms.

“Vera left me with that impression. But all I know is that Oz needs our help in the Aquino castle,” Joy answered.

He nodded. It was good enough that Damien was finally able to knock together some Aquino heads, at least until he was able to see Vicky. “I can get us to the castle,” Damien said, and then pulled a knife from his waistband. “I need you guys to clear a space for me.”

Damien sliced open his palm and sucked his blood into his cheeks as Hope and Joy helped clear away forest debris. It was cleaned soon enough. He motioned for them to step back, and then he cupped his hands around his mouth and sprayed blood through his lips. With his fingers covered in blood, he drew the name of the Aquino’s castle in the dirt, and then he rubbed his hands together and hissed out a spell from his grimy mouth.

His blood, spotted in the dirt, crept into a web and then began to fluoresce. The spell was completed.

“I’m sure you guys dive into portals all the time, but this will be different.” He held both their hands. Although it was awkward for Damien to touch anyone that wasn’t his closest confidant or fuck buddy, there were more pressing matters. Oz needed his and the Coven’s help, and if they were lost in the portal, Oz was sure to be fucked over. “Don’t let go of me no matter what.”

The dove into the portal like cannonballs. The walls were jagged and tight. They were rattled around like dice, slammed into each other and scraped by sharp obstacles. His back was sliced by something particularly sharp.

Despite the discomfort, Damien’s adrenaline was through the roof. He itched to rake his fingers through their entrails, to stomp their skulls into the stone floors, to cook them and tear them limb from limb like a rotisserie chicken. He itched to lather himself in their blood like a true heathen.

The trio landed on their feet. Damien stumbled and nearly collided with his father Lucien.

“Shit, sorry!”

“No worries,” Lucien said. He was feet away from Oz who was neck-deep in Aquino combatants. “We’re fine here! Stan ran off, find him!”

“Hope, stay with them,” Joy said, “I’m going with Damien.”

Hope nodded. She created a beam of light over their heads. Joy and Damien took off on the path over the chaos between Oz and the soldiers.

“How do we even find Stan?” Joy asked. Damien wasn’t sure either. It was impossible to scour the entire castle in a reasonable amount of time. Damien didn’t know any other magic tricks to help them, either.

“We’ll have to follow noise or something,” Damien replied. It was the best of a bad situation.

Thankfully, fate intervened. A LaVey soldier flew through a pair of heavy, ornate doors. Joy grabbed Damien by his sides and pulled him out of the way before he was decapitated by debris. He was too worried to be scared. They peered into the throne room, where Stan and Hugo alongside their armies.

Damien wasn’t the keenest, but he was sure a fool could have seen his father was in trouble. His face poured blood and his leg was lamed.

“Keep quiet, I’m going to make an opening for you,” Joy told him.

They hid behind the frame. Joy conjured an enormous rod tapered off to a serrated point.

“Hugo!” Joy screamed. Taken off guard, Hugo faltered, having been distracted by joy, and then she tossed it like a javelin and it whistled through the air. Damien chased it, fists alight. He sidestepped his father Hugo and slammed his hand into Hugo’s nose. It crunched and roasted with smoke and a metallic odor.

With a swift kick from Hugo, Damien was knocked off Hugo. Stan caught Damien by his wrist and pulled him out of the way of spearpoint from one of Hugo’s lackeys.

It was far too chaotic for them to feasibly defeat Hugo.

“I’ll take care of him! You take care of his army!” Stan barked.

“Damien, I have an idea, but I’ll need your help,” Joy said. She grabbed an Aquino guard, and although visibly disgusted by it, she stabbed them in their neck with a prismatic dagger, and a second later, she dragged them onto the floor where they crouched. She drew with charcoal on the bloodied knife and then shoved it into his hands.

“I need you to stab this into the ground and light it on fire. It’ll roast all the Aquino in this room,” Joy told him.

Damien didn’t need to be told twice. Dutifully and vindictively, he lit it on fire, and then they were showered by a geyser of hot and feathery fire. Joy flung her open hand out without flourish and cast a shield over Stan’s head to protect him from the flames.

Seconds later, the fire dissipated and was replaced by the smell of roasted flesh and burnt hair. Damien flew to his feet and charged Hugo.

But before Damien was able to dispatch Hugo, there was a cacophonous snap, and Damien watched blood spray from Stan’s chest.

—

Oz wasn’t upset often. Oz wasn’t mad often either. But things made a turn for the worse and were he to be completely frank, he was irate. Vicky had turned to ash, and he was up to his motherfucking chin in knives and spears. Oz had survived worse but it still pissed him off.

“Lucien!” he screamed, “Just fucking roast these sons of bitchs already!”

Lucien hissed, but from his staff came the smoke and flames. Oz slammed his eyes shut, but fear overpowered the atmosphere, even more potently than the heat of the fire. Fear burst into a new and gluttonous life from the sensation. In the fire, where the Aquino soldiers were roasted and defenseless, Fear scooped them into his bulbous jaw and swallowed them in pieces.

The fire dissipated and the bloodbath ended. Oz, although warm and still angry, was finally alleviated of the pressure of battle, and he pried knives and spears out of his body.

There were other battles to finish, however. But Oz promised himself as soon as the whole ordeal was over, he would spend the day in bed and binge anime to his heart’s content. Preferably with Zoe in tow, but he wasn’t picky.

Fear, enormous and swollen, pressed its snout against Oz’s cheek. “More,” it growled. Oz shoved it aside as Lucien and Hope rushed down to meet him.

“We need to find the rest of the party,” Hope said with her nose pinched between her fingers. In her other hand, she loosely held a swinging pendulum. “This is a kind of magic divinator. It’ll help us find Joy. Hopefully, Stan and Damien haven’t been separated from her.”

He and Lucien ran behind Hope through hallways and a maze of bodies and fire. In other circumstances, Oz was sure to have been disgusted by the carnage. But he only felt hate for the ruthless Aquino and the secretive LaVey, and exhaustion from the taxing past days. He went straight from sleepless nights and a feverish investigation, to captivity and torture, to find his friends in shambles, and finally a covert operation that ended in a bloodbath. Everything was minute and far away.

Hope guided them into the destroyed throne room. If Oz had a heart, it would have stopped.

Stan’s chest gaped. He was pale and limp. Joy was crouched over him, she wailed at the top of her lungs as she shrouded him in glittery reparation magic, and Damien was on the defensive against Hugo and the general woman Quilo.

Oz ran to Damien and Fear reared its ugly head. It snapped at Quilo and Hugo fruitlessly. Damien used it as a springboard to tackle Quilo and slam his fists into her face.

“You bitch! You killed my dad! You fucking bitch!”

Oz cursed and slammed his body into Hugo before the Aquino king reached Damien. Fear finally took an arm into its mouth and ripped it off. But before Oz was able to devour him entirely, he vanished.

His head whipped to Quilo. Her fist covered a magic circle, and Oz immediately concluded she used magic to transport him out of the castle and god knew where else.

Oz stormed over to her and bludgeoned her with Fear’s big head. “Where is he?” he boomed.

Quilo cackled. “You’re like sad kittens.” She mimicked a kitten with a high-pitched meow.

Damien kicked her head. “I’m going to kill you, you fucking cunt! I’m going to kill all of you!” He slammed his fiery fists into her head, and her skin boiled. Quilo shrieked something ungodly.

He ripped Damien off Quilo and Fear scooped her into its maw with the promise of safekeeping. It was hungry, but sometimes it saved snacks. They needed to interrogate Quilo late to obtain Hugo’s location, but neither he or Damien were in the mindset to deal with her. “Your father is dying,” Oz reminded Damien, “we’ll deal with her later.”

For a split second, Damien bristled but soon regained rationality.

Oz and Damien jogged over to Stan. He winced. Stan’s heart was cleanly ripped out. Oz was able to see straight to the floor. Strangely enough, Stan held on, with ragged, shallow breaths, as blood and drool coated his cheeks.

They had lost more than enough people.

Ordinarily, Oz didn’t meddle in mortal matters like death. But Brian, and all of Oz’s friends, had been through far too much in such a short amount of time.

Oz liquified. From the walls of darkness, he picked off foamy chunks and carefully sculpted it into a heart for Stan. When he returned, he pulled the Coven and Lucien off Stan and pressed his creation into Stan’s chest. It leeched onto his torn veins. It pumped blood. It expanded to fill the cavity. Color returned to Stan’s face.

His audience was stunned into silence. He stepped back and rolled his shoulders.

“This is only a temporary fix. He needs medical attention as soon as possible,” Oz explained. The witches nodded.

—

Vicky waited impatiently in her bed, she strained her ears to pick up on any sound of movement, her stiff legs itched to pace in wait. Zoe told her, again and again, Brian and Damien were on their way. It felt like an eternity. It made her anxious. It made her want to cry.

Her fingers curled into her blankets. Just then, she heard the clap of sneakers against cement, and then the whir of the automatic glass door. Her eyes widened to see Brian and Damien struggle to pull themselves inside before the door was even open. Vicky squealed when they threw themselves into her.

Vicky’s chest tightened upon the mere sight of them. She burst into tears and folded herself over them. Their visage was miraculous in every way.

Brian pushed her against the headboard and wrapped his arms around her like a tight metal coil. She was smothered but pressed kisses on his cheek. Damien’s legs were laid across her lap as he curled himself against her. Vicky had never seen him cry before, but he wept inconsolably against her long hair.

It was a storm of emotion. Heartache, love, relief, grief. Vicky’s fingers dug into their flesh from the energy.

“I missed,” Vicky had to pause to blubber and wipe her face, “I missed you guys. I felt so incomplete. I was- I was scared and miserable.” She held them tightly. “I don’t ever want to leave you again.” In many ways, they were her only family. Without them, she only had friends and classmates.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Brian told her, “It wasn’t your fault, Vicky.”

Although Vicky was overwhelmed by emotion, the cogs in her head turned and she pieced together odd bits and pieces. Her head spun with a maelstrom of questions.

“Wait, where is everyone? Your dads? And Oz? And Damien, you’re covered in blood. What happened?” Her chest was so tight. Vicky couldn’t breathe! “Everything is… this is all so much.”

Brian hushed her. “It’s okay. We’ll all be caught up soon, at least according to Amira,” he assured her, “let’s just enjoy this.”

Vicky tasted something foul. There was something dreadfully wrong. She wanted to relish in her reunion, but the ill feelings nagged her relentlessly.

Still, for Brian and Damien, she could keep those worries to herself. She held them close instead.

“Are you guys okay?” she asked.

“I wasn’t in any fight,” Brian said.

“I’m okay. I mean, I ran into people a couple of times, but I was mostly the one doling out damage,” Damien followed. “I’m just… I’m so glad you’re back, Vicky. It’s been a nightmare without you.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t careful enough.”

“No. It’s not your fault,” Damien and Brian insisted. “We’re okay now. That’s all that matters.”

They were right. It took a great deal off of Vicky’s shoulders, and she sincerely smiled.

—

Stan gawked at his chest. His injury was supposed to have completely decimated his chest cavity but all was well. Oz was not subjectable to mortal laws.

He nodded at Oz and Oz nodded back. He felt good about himself. “Thank you,” Stan said. “I would’ve died if you weren’t there.”

“I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Oz, our family owes you our lives. You’ve helped us save our son’s lover, you’ve saved my husband.” Lucien laid his hand over Stan’s. It was a stark difference from the image of the stone-hearted, begrudged king Oz spoke with that morning. “You’ve saved us.”

Oz wished he was as celebratory as mortals. But with Hugo at large, and Stan’s brush with death, and everything else that happened, Oz couldn’t relax, no matter how badly he wanted to.

He knew Zoe felt the same way. She was just better at disguising it. Perhaps she lived in the moment better than he.

“Honestly, we’re just glad everyone made it out alive,” she said. Oz nodded.

“Rest up. I’ll gather everyone for the briefing. The sooner we get everyone on the same page, the safer we’ll be, and the sooner we can rest,” he said. The kings agreed with a nod of their heads.

—

Brian held Vicky’s hand as a doctor with three eyes checked her vitals. Damien had gone to freshen up and change. When the glass door slid open, Vicky saw Oz enter.

She smiled. “Hi,” she said. “It’s good to see you. I’m so glad you’re okay.” And she was. She felt horrible that he was left amid the enemy.

“We’re just about done here,” said the doctor.

The doctor finished Vicky’s checkup. She closed her robe and sat on the edge of her bed. “Thank you for everything,” she said earnestly. “I owe you my life, Oz.” Without him, Vicky was sure she wouldn’t have been able to escape. She would’ve been a mess over her bizarre emotions and mismatched memories.

“Nonsense. I was just taking care of my friends.” Oz and his tiny incarnations smiled. “You look well for someone who’s been bounced back and forth between worlds.”

“I’m just a little stiff. I was thirsty when I first woke up, but I’m a lot better now.”

“Are you well enough for a meeting to catch everyone up on what’s happened?”

Vicky, without hesitation, said, “Yes. I want answers. I want this all to make sense. I’m trying to put together all these pieces but I can’t even figure out half of what I don’t know.”

“I agree. I’d like to be filled in as well,” Brian said.

Brian helped Vicky onto her feet and they were taken to Stan’s room. Everyone was already gathered, even Damien, clean and dressed in scrubs. She and Brian sat with him. It was severe in that room, with everyone gathered. Vicky wanted to go and hug Stan and Lucien, but the tension was so thick, it was like stones were placed in her lap.

“I haven’t slept in ages, so I’m going to make this as quick as possible,” Vera said. “This began when I wanted to expand mine and Vicky’s robbery pool. I heard about this den where there were hundreds of thousands in cash stashed away. But somewhere along the planning stages, the Aquino family, specifically Dahlia, heard about our plan, and also heard we had killed someone during the robbery, so they leaked our information to the gang we robbed and Vicky was shot at school.”

Vicky picked it up. “King Hugo Aquino revealed he had a couple uses for me. Firstly, since that wasn’t the first time I had died, I was somehow able to conjure lightning like he and his family. Secondly, since I’m very precious to the LaVey family thanks to my romantic status with Damien, I could be used as a weapon against them to throw them off guard. The whole thing was a revenge scheme. But because of my head injury, I didn’t know any of that.”

“Fucking wait,” Amira hissed, “revenge scheme? For what?”

“I assume it’s because we’re neighboring kingdoms. The kingdoms are always land grabbing. And have you seen Dahlia? I think she gets her jolly from conquering,” Damien replied.

Vicky frowned. Had Stan and Lucien not told him? “No… that’s not it,” she replied.

“Vicky’s right,” Oz said. He turned his gaze to the LaVey kings. “Are you going to come forward or am I going to have to out you?”

Damien’s brow furrowed quizzically. “Out him? They’re already out of the closet. Oz, they’re married.”

“No… not that,” Stan tumbled shamefully. “I should have told you this sooner, Damien, I should have told everyone but… I wanted to protect you.”

“From what?” Damien said.

“Hugo and I are brothers. I used to lead the Aquino clan army before I deserted to marry Lucien,” Stan said. Vicky saw the color and confusion drain from Damien’s face. It was replaced with hurt.

“What the hell?” he squawked. “I… I can’t wrap my head around why you’d hide this from me. I can't… I can’t believe this! My girlfriend died and my best friend is a vegetable because you’re fighting with your family, and you didn’t bother to tell me any of this?” His fist crashed into the glass. “You didn’t even let me fucking know she was alive! I heard it from Oz! You two are the fucking worst!”

Vicky went cold. “What?” She pawed at Damien as he trembled with rage. “What happened to Scott?” She was in his arms when she was shot, did that mean he was hit too?

“You guys were hugging it out or some shit when you were killed, Vicky,” Vera coolly explained.

“Aye,” Stan said. “My family was terrible, even by demonic standards. They would spout nonsense about dominating this world with the sinners we were duty-bound to punish for their transgressions. They were power-hungry, and it was horrible. I couldn’t live with it anymore, so I deserted, and I joined Lucien’s mission to create a kingdom where the victims up above could have retribution in the next life.”

“But I didn’t want to involve you in any way with my family, Damien. They’re like toxic waste. Their extremism leeches into you. But it was all for not. I was a fool to think I could protect you with secrecy alone, not while my brother is in power. And I am sorry for that.”

Damien’s nostrils flared. He bared his teeth. His eyes swam like magma. “You killed Vicky and Scott, and all you can say is you’re sorry?”

Vicky launched to her feet and positioned herself between Damien and Stan. “I will be the judge of whose fault my death was,“ she said as she trembled. "But your fathers love you. They’ve done everything for you. We’ve lost so much. We’ve lost… we’ve lost our good friend, and they’ve only given you love. We need them, Damien. You need them.”

Damien snarled. She saw the hurt in his eyes, the confusion. As much as it hurt to see, they needed to stay calm.

“Vicky’s right. What’s important now is briefing everyone. We need to put our vendettas aside,” Amira said. “The fact of it is, we’re all involved in this now. Hugo will be after all of us because of it.”

Joy groaned. “Geez, this is a headache. My question is, why Vicky? Why not Brian? He’s a way more imposing than Vicky.”

“Because he lives a low-risk lifestyle compared to Vicky. Because of Vicky’s criminal activity, it’d be easier to have her murdered on the DL without it being connected to them, at least they surmised,” Lucien explained.

“That makes sense,” Hope mumbled.

“I guess it’s my turn,” Zoe said. “Oz had premonitions about Vicky’s death a couple of days before shit hit the fan. While we were trying to figure this shit out, Dahlia captured us and stuck us with some magic shit so we couldn’t interfere in Vicky’s execution and Dahlia explained everything. We managed to escape but… we were too late to save Vicky. But since we knew where she was, we got together with Lucien to get her back before shit hit the fan. But Lucien wanted to keep it on the DL because he was afraid Damien would get hurt, so we went to the funeral where we filled in Brian, Damien, Amira, and Vera. We told them where Vicky was and that bringing her back was virtually impossible since a vital part of her body was destroyed. But that’s where Vera saved the day. I’m sure many of you understand I’m not a normal monster. I’m kind of godly, and I can trade things out given a good deal. Vera traded out about a decade of her life and it was enough for me to fix up Vicky to what you see now.”

Vicky had mixed feelings about Vera’s sacrifice. In Vera’s position, Vicky would have done the same thing. She was sure Vera was plagued by guilt and felt like it was how she could repent. But a decade was a long time. Vicky wasn’t worth a decade.

“After the funeral, I went to Hell to gather intel and secure Vicky,” Oz said. “I uncovered their plot as well, and that Hugo and Stan are brothers during a meeting between Hugo and his generals. After I learned this, I met with Lucien briefly, was told there was a change of plans, and then massacred all but one of the generals and Hugo himself. We presently have the surviving general in custody but… there are complications. She seems to have transported Hugo elsewhere. I understand LaVey soldiers are in full force looking for him, but I’m going to interrogate her nonetheless. It seems more efficient.”

“Fucking hell,” Amira cursed, “so he’s at large? What about his fucking army? Are any of us safe?”

“No,” Stan immediately replied. “Every one of us in this room is in grave danger. It’s why we’re briefing everyone on what has recently transpired. We’ll all be a lot safer if we’re on the same page.”

Amira growled. “… anyways. While Oz and Vicky were in Hell, Damien flipped his shit when he saw Dahlia. He accused her, rightfully so, that she took Vicky from him. We couldn’t let her go back and tell him that we were onto them, so we had to detain her. She’s not dead, but I can tell you she’s not talking any time soon. I wanted to cut off her tongue and her fingers, but Faith and Joy managed to curse her into silence. We took Brian with us for safekeeping.”

Damien sighed. “Because I got into a fight, Hope dragged me out into the forest until Joy came to get us. The ritual worked, but Oz was trying to get Vicky out at the same time, and he ended up buried in guards, so we had to bail him out. But my dad Stan ran off to take on Hugo.”

“I was… I was severely wounded by the remaining general. I’m lucky to be here now,” Stan said. “And here we are now, I guess.”

“Well, what now? Do we look for Hugo?” Vera asked.

“No. Too obvious,” Lucien said.

Joy said, “I agree. This guy fights dirty. If we wanna find him, we gotta draw him out and make him feel like he’s the one in control. Like a hunter. We should go about our normal routines. We can dispatch him when he turns up.”

It was a grim and nerve-wracking plan, but Vicky craved even the semblance of normalcy. Their round table agreed with a collective nod and Vicky looked forward to being able to live normally.

#monster prom #vicky schmidt #brian yu #damien lavey #oz monster prom #zoe monster prom #lucien lavey #stan lavey #hope monster prom #joy johnson junpei #vera oberlin #amira rashid #oc: quilo #oc: hugo aquino

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lapiswrites · 6 years

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Sweet Siren Song

McCreamy x Reader

Dark/Monster Misfits AU

TW: Gore, blood, death, etc

“There’s an allure to darkness,” Klaus Mikaelson had told Caroline Forbes in an episode of The Vampire Diaries. Like the true sassy blonde she was, Caroline snapped back saying there wasn’t. But she was wrong.

There really WAS an allure to the dark side. So many women loved Ted Bundy, and it wasn’t just because he was attractive. Fandoms love villains like Loki and Hela. It’s because of how evil they are. We have our own demons to deal with, and we find solace in other peoples’ darkness.

Living off the coast had warranted me many folktales and legends to beware. Don’t go too deep, the undertoe will suck you in and drown you. Don’t go swimming past midnight. If you see a light on the horizon and it is not the sun or moon, run.

But my favorite was the twisted fairytale of a young maiden. She loved the sea and was there almost every day from dawn til dusk. She made friends with the fisherman and sea life alike. She even met the most handsome devil. He lived in the sea and sang like a god. He had loved her, but he couldn’t have her.

One day, she waited for him at the dock. The sky was darkened to pitch black, save for the brightly lit white moon in the sky. She waited and waited with her feet dangling off of the edge.

A webbed hand shot up from the water and wrapped around her ankle. She was pulled down into the sea and there, she met her end. And who had killed her? The seaman she had loved, of course. But he was supernatural. He was a siren. He sang the sweetest songs to lure his victims, and then he ate them. He wasn’t the only one of his kind; sirens have been around in lore for ages. They were mostly female, but I guess those tales’ authors never met Jay.

My friends were drinking and smoking weed. They had a party on the beach to signal summer’s start. I joined in, but I didn’t drink or smoke. I just sat on the dock and kicked my feet back and forth. It was a lovely temperature by the water; not too cold. I sat alone with my thoughts and music coming from my phone.

When All I Want by Kodaline came on, there was a sweet as sugar voice coming from somewhere nearby. It sang along to the song, overpowering the actual singer’s vocals. I looked around, trying to find the source.

On a pile of rocks several hundred feet from the docks was a silhouette. I don’t know how the voice carried over here, nor how my music met their ears. Nonetheless, I grabbed my phone and walked towards the person.

The closer I got, the sweeter the song sounded. It sounded like angels singing. I couldn’t help but follow the voice. I found a man with dark hair and beautiful eyes sitting in a large rock. On closer inspection, he had no legs, only a shimmering black tail like a mermaid.

“What the fuck?” I questioned aloud. The man stopped singing and stared at me quizzically.

“You can resist my spell?” He mused. I was confused. Spell? What spell?

“What are you on? How high are you?” I responded.

He rolled his eyes, but kept a small smirk on his pink lips. “I’m a siren, love. My songs entrap my victims. It brought you here but yet you’re able to think clearly.”

“You’re quite honest for a living fairytale creature.” I remarked. He laughed and it sounded like music.

“I’m intrigued. And if you ran or tried to tell anyone, you’d be in the water before you could even think about screaming.” He smiled, showing sharp canines. I know I should be scared, but I wasn’t. I was curious.

“I don’t know how I can resist your spell. I don’t even know how you exist.” I stated. I kept my gaze on him, not wanting to be tricked into my own doom.

He chuckled darkly, but the sound was sickly sweet in my ears. “Love, there’s a million things in this world far worse than I. Your own kind is one of them. I eat people, sure, but do I necessarily enjoy the killing? Not always. Killing you would be deeply tragic. But killing one of your stupid friends? Enjoyable.”

“Why would killing me be tragic?” I asked, walking around him. He couldn’t move on land, while I could. I wasn’t really afraid of him.

“You’re beautiful. But you can resist me. You’re not scared of me; you’re intrigued. You’re smarter than the average human.” He slapped his tail against the rock, creating a wet splashing sound. His tail was absolutely gorgeous, but it’s dark colors hid the bloodshed and sins he’s committed.

“What are you going to do since I can resist you?” I challenged. I took a step back, readying my entire body to flee if need be.

He laughed loudly and threw his head back. “Oh, my darling, are you challenging me? I can snatch you up and drag you to the deepest depths of the ocean in seconds.”

“So why haven’t you?” I apparently had a death wish. But something in me told he wouldn’t hurt me. He was as interested in me as I was him.

“I like you. What’s your name?” He eyed me like a wolf eyeing its prey.

“(Y/N),” I replied warily.

“Beautiul name. I’m Jay.”

“Jay the siren? Interesting.” I dared a few steps closer to him. He seemed surprised that I was willingly entering his territory. “I’ve heard stories about you.”

“So you know that I can eat your heart out.” He watched me carefully, as if I was the monster. I sat down beside him, staring out into the ocean. Go ahead and get me, Jay. You won’t.

“You would have already done so by now.” I replied.

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.” He leaned in close, his nose and mouth too close to my skin for comfort. One of his webbed hands came up and played with my hair. “You’re absolutey delicious.”

“(Y/N)!!” One of my friends called from farther up the beach. I watched her stumble drunkenly towards the doc. She tripped and sprawled out where the water met land.

“I’m warning you, now, my love. If I ever catch you here again, I will feast on your flesh.” He smirked and dove back into the water. He swam incredibly fast, and before I knew it, my friend was sucked into the ocean.

I couldn’t scream, but some of the others had. I rushed down the beach, trying to save my friend. When I got to the dock, the only thing that proved she was ever here was a red high heel and the part in which it was attached. I gasped in horror, falling to my knees on the sand.

The worst part? I wanted to see Jay again.

#mccreamy #gay baby gang #misfits #fanfiction #siren #au

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xadoheandterra · 5 years

Text

Series: The Burning of Solheim Title: The Path Untrodden Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII Characters: Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, Cor Leonis, Gladiolus Amicitia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gilgamesh Tags: 10 years older!Prompto, Prompto the BADASS, Prompto and Gilgamesh play fighting, Gilgamesh’s shitty flirting, Cor doesn’t understand how this is his life Summary: Solheim was the height of civilization long enough that their ruins were ruins over 2000 years ago, and still had the power to function in the time of the King of Light. They should’ve realized something was very wrong the minute Prompto remarked on the lights being on, and yet no one was home.

The two gravity wells petered out as their magic fully dissipated. It left the battlefield quiet aside from the heavy breaths of Ignis and Gladio—but Prompt had eyes only for the armored form of Gilgamesh that straightened up a full seven feet tall and whose chest heaved in the way mortal men’s did. Prompto tracked his gaze to the missing arm, and then to the six spectral arms that held aloft Gilgamesh’s six secondary blades. Prompto sighed and dropped the machine into the dust and dirt. His eyes narrowed and his right hand lightly traced the knives that lined his belt as he waited.

Gilgamesh took a step forward and swiped the blade in hand downward. Prompto watched how the man rolled his neck to unstiffen his spine, and the way the behemoth of a man loosened his gait just the slightest bit. “Who bade me come hence?” Gilgamesh uttered, and his voice struck through the air like a firecracker.

Prompto grinned and danced lightly back on the balls of his feet. He raised his left arm up and waved. “Hey, Gil!” He watched how Gilgamesh cocked his head, and Prompto’s grin held just a bit more teeth than to be polite. “How ya’ve been, cowering away in a cave?”

Gilgamesh tilted his head forward. He said, lowly, “You.”

Prompto leaned back and tugged a knife up into his hand and twirled it between his fingers. “Me,” he drawled back, entirely too pleased with himself.

Gilgamesh moved forward with a speed that Prompto could remember from their time sparing at the self-made Haven’s of Ardyn’s. He crossed the thirty feet in mere seconds, a speed that Noctis or the Glaives could only achieve through a warp and Gilgamesh did it with a simple, forceful push of his booted feet into the dirt. Prompto laughed and danced out of the way just as quick so that when Gilgamesh swung his blade where Prompto stood the blond easily stood behind him and lightly spun on his feet.

“Missed me!” Prompto teased, and then ducked out of three more swipes of the blade as Gilgamesh spun around. He forced himself to jump, used the small well of magic that he’d been taught to enhance the movement with a well placed thrust of gravity so that Prompto’s jump turned into what could’ve been a Dragoon’s leap—except Prompt twisted the leap into a flip and flung three of his knives to be deflected by three of Gilgamesh’s auxiliary blades.

Prompto landed on the balls of his feet once more behind Gilgamesh. He bounced for a moment with another laugh, and faintly he could hear Gladio whistle in shock behind him. Then, with the wide grin on his face Prompto darted forward. He threw three more of the knives from his belt, each deflected, and then slid on his knees underneath the other three that swiped at him and waved cheekily at Gilgamesh as his momentum dragged him past the impossibly tall man. Prompto kicked out a small aero with one hand into the dirt to curve his trajectory and then pulled out the crossbow from Ardyn’s armiger and raised it up, bolt aimed right at Gilgamesh’s face.

Gilgamesh stopped his sword at Prompto’s neck and both stared at one another for a moment before Prompto dismissed the crossbow and collapsed backward into peals of laughter to Gilgamesh’s sudden, drawn out sigh. Like that the short minutes worth of a fight left the two of them. Gilgamesh dismissed the spirits that held onto the extra swords and they broke apart into wisps that vanished into the sun’s rays. Gilgamesh tilted his head back and laughed, a deep booming sort of sound that brought Prompto’s cackles into a higher sort of fever-pitch in response.

A second later Prompto found himself choking, not from laughter, but from the tears that wanted to gather at his eyes. Everything hit home all at once with the sort of emotional hammer that the blond hadn’t wanted to think about. Gilgamesh, Ardyn, time travel—everything. One hand came up to cover across his eyes as the laughter continued tied up in the choking that wanted to swallow him as the tears gathered and then fell. Prompto pressed the hand into his eyes and kept his grin up because what else could he do?

Years ago Prompto had consigned himself to never getting home. With that realization he’d begun to build a life with Ardyn and Gilgamesh. He trained, and eventually he took the Oaths. Ardyn may not have been his King—Noctis would always hold that title in Prompto’s heart—but he’d been someone Prompto could follow, could bind himself to. Back then Prompto had missed it—missed the feel of Lucis Caelum magic nestled next to his core. He missed the feel of being wanted that Noctis made him—he missed the smiles and the lazy days of playing Kings Night.

It felt horribly bittersweet to have it all back now, only for Prompto to have lost the life he’d finally gotten himself used to. Life with Ardyn and keeping the princess’ ass out of trouble, of traveling from village to village and healing what little he could—of Ardyn crying over a dead baby Garula because they needed the food, of Gilgamesh herding their drunken asses to a campsite that Ardyn drunkenly blessed with magic and runes to protect from the night. Half of Prompto still thought this had been a dream; he survived under that mindset until he felt Ardyn’s magic at his heart, and even then he pushed the realization aside.

Except now here stood Gilgamesh, one-armed and slower, but just as dangerous from before. Here he stumbled into the same song and dance they performed for Ardyn, as entertainment, as a way to relax after a long days travel. Here was a tangible form of the life Prompto had made—a life that was gone and yet not and Prompto didn’t know what to feel about it all. He just knew that it hurt—that something hurt and he couldn’t explain it.

Prompto didn’t notice when Gilgamesh stopped laughing until Gilgamesh was suddenly at his side, on his knees, hand wrapped around his right wrist and over the glove that covered up the barcode. That arm tugged the hand away from Prompto’s face and Prompto blinked the tears out of his eyes to look at Gilgamesh’s face. Those dark eyes seemed almost impossibly wide, set in a face the color of dusk that seemed far paler than Prompto remembered.

“You live,” Gilgamesh said, voice a soft rumble. The golden-brown gaze searched Prompto’s face for a moment, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

Prompto chuckled and quirked a wet sort of smile as he said, “What? Thought I died? Pssh, please, Gil. You know me better.”

For a moment Gilgamesh’s face was blank, and then he couldn’t look at Prompto in the eyes anymore and stared down at the blond’s cheek. Prompto couldn’t believe it, but Gilgamesh’s eyes actually watered a little as he pulled the blond’s wrist up against his chest and leaned down until his brow touched the dirt alongside Prompto’s face.

“I thought I failed in this,” Gilgamesh said, voice barely a whisper. “That I left you to fall into the cold embrace of the Gate alone.”

“I didn’t die, Gil,” Prompto said, voice tight. “I didn’t.”

“Ardyn did not…?” Gilgamesh said, and his voice trailed off almost afraid to voice the thought.

“Ardyn did nothing to me,” Prompto said, vehemently enough that it suffused his limbs with strength and he pushed himself up and pushed Gilgamesh back. “You seriously thought he—what the fuck, Gil?!”

Gilgamesh kept his hand tight around Prompto’s wrist, fingers dug into Prompto’s pulse point which Prompto registered the man used to keep himself grounded even as he refused to look at Prompto’s face. Prompto felt himself a little sick at the thought that his comments about Gilgamesh being a coward actually held merit. He hadn’t believed that Gilgamesh willingly abandoned Ardyn despite what he joked. He just couldn’t fathom it.

“You knew him!” Prompto said, and he knew he was screaming at the way Gilgamesh flinched. “He was your fucking best friend! You knew him better than anyone and you thought he—”

“He was changed,” Gilgamesh said. “He returned and you were gone. I called to the Gate but you did not answer.”

“I wasn’t dead!”

“Yet you never strayed from his side,” Gilgamesh said, and his grip tightened. “Not once.” Prompto swallowed heavily. “I strayed, too often, and yet you remained. What was I to think, then? Two months with no word, and he returned to me changed and the brightness in our lives gone? What was I to think, Silver?”

“You should’ve asked him,” Prompto ground out.

“Events were too far along,” Gilgamesh countered. “Little I could do to sway them from their Path. He from His, or They from Theirs. The time had come, the Draconian Spoke, and They Obeyed like sheep to the slaughter.”

Prompto swallowed and said, “Even Aera?”

“Even She,” Gilgamesh uttered, then sighed. “Especially She.”

Prompto hissed between his teeth and said a plaintive, “Fuck.”

Gilgamesh smiled bitterly. “Indeed.”

By the time Prompto had climbed to his feet and returned to Noctis with Gilgamesh at his side, both Gladio and Cor looked pale and on the verge of fainting in the heavy heat of the day. Prompto couldn’t be certain if it weren’t because of heat sickness or something, but the way Noctis grinned he doubted it was something so simple. At any rate Prompto stretched and rolled his eyes when Gilgamesh’s remaining hand followed his wrist, still clamped tight to it.

“Hey, guys,” Prompto said, and if his voice was a little hoarser than at least no one said anything. “Lemme introduce you to this jerkface.”

Gilgamesh snorted, and then coughed when Prompto slammed his right hand into the large man’s chest in response. After a second Gilgamesh sighed and dipped his head in the direction of Noctis as Prompto continued cheerfully.

“This is Gilgamesh Murus, the Lord Tenebrae.” Prompto glanced over at Ignis who seemed to choke at the semi-formal introduction even as Gilgamesh half-mumbled his greetings and then raised his head back up.

Cor—all six feet of the man—tried his damnedest to hide behind the five-foot six-inches Noctis Lucis Caelum when Gilgamesh’s gaze drifted in his direction. Prompto ignored the mess aside from a half-held in snort even as he cheerfully introduced Noctis to Gilgamesh with the phrase, “And Gil this is Noct, the guy I helped keep alive before I met the Princess.”

“You mean got into trouble,” Noctis said, although his smile looked a little bit forced and Prompto frowned just the faintest bit because—why was Noctis looking at him like that? He wanted to ask, but found the words stuck in his throat.

From beside Prompto Gilgamesh shifted, and then stepped forward with his focus past the young King. He spoke now, voice just on the faintest edge of amused, “I had not thought to see you again.”

Prompto glanced between Gilgamesh and the slowly reddening Cor Leonis, only faintly confused because he remembered how Gladio had thrown Cor under the bus in the early hours of the morning—yesterday, had it been only yesterday?—and Cor had admitted to facing off against Gilgamesh at the tender age of fifteen but—obviously the younger man had left quite the impression if the way Gilgamesh’s lips curled just faintly as he eyed the man from beneath his hood.

“You’re a man,” Cor said, voice verging on the edge of faint, and when Gilgamesh laughed, he shook his head and said, “I mean I—fuck.”

“Yes, I am a man, same as you,” Gilgamesh murmured, “although the touch of time may yet call me to her embrace, I still eat and breathe as a man born of flesh. You, I see, wear time’s changes well.” Gilgamesh tilted his head lightly. “You were such a curious thing, Cor Leonis. I am glad you have taken to life and not to the Gates that Called you.”

Prompto opened his mouth, and then closed it a second with wide eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. After a second, slowly because surely he had to be imagining things, Prompto asked, “Gil? Are you…flirting with Cor?”

Gladio choked as Gilgamesh looked at Prompto with raised brow and an amused smile on his lips. “He bested me,” Gilgamesh uttered with a shrug toward his missing arm. “An awakening I sorely needed.”

Cor buried his face into his hands with a strangled sort of sound and Prompto, Prompto looked a bit stricken because that was a yes and not something he thought he’d see again. The type of people Gilgamesh tended to flirt with were few and far between, and Prompto hadn’t thought one of them would be Cor the Immortal but here he was, seeing the hero of his childhood being flirted with a close and personal friend. Prompto scrunched his nose up and then said, “Fuck, man, could you do that when you aren’t holding on to my wrist with a death grip?”

“I make no oath,” Gilgamesh uttered and Prompto groaned and leaned into the taller man’s side and mumbled something completely intelligible.

A second later Prompto pulled away from Gil, face pinched, and he uttered, “Have you even fucking bathed in two thousand years?!”

Gilgamesh stared down at him, then uttered a blunt, “No.” He kept a straight face for a second longer before his lips curled up into a wide grin at Prompto’s horrified and almost betrayed face.

The Chosen Last King of Lucis, His Chosen Shield, His Hand, the bright Silver, and the ever curiosity Cor Leonis rented a caravan for the night once the party finally finished the climb out of Taelpar Crag. The novelty of the sun wore off as the heat bore down upon his armored flesh and reminded Gilgamesh bitterly of a time when he traveled across the seas in search of Civitas Lucii. The heat and the salt of the water had bored upon him then as the heat of the sun and the dust bore upon him now. Yet Silver bade him to not remove the armor and sit within his modest tunic and pants as they traveled through the carriage of the times from the Crag into the barest sense of civilization.

Gilgamesh found himself fascinated. He’d seen technological marvels in his time, being in the service of Ardyn had shown him much of the word, but a carriage of the likes with which Silver traveled in now was beyond anything he could have imagined. He kept his hands to himself, even as he settled into the back seat with Silver placed on his lap, hand still wrapped around the blond’s wrist with his fingers still dug into that pulse point. The feel of the heartbeat and the scent of the Soul within its confines of Flesh were far more of a comfort to Gilgamesh then the familiar face and voice. They were comforts that two thousand years prior he found himself denied, and so to have time here and now to reassure himself that he dreamed not was much appreciated.

A conversation still owed between them, Gilgamesh and Silver. A conversation that would speak of what was and what is, of consequences and failures, but Gilgamesh thanked the Six that they felt merciful enough to grant him back a small bit of the light he thought long devoured into the Scourge. With reluctance Gilgamesh eventually parted from Silver, but when the blond bade him to bathe with yet another grimaced face Gilgamesh went without word. The waters that flowed over him were a luxury he lacked these two thousand years since he walked out of the Confirmation, and then out of Civitas Lucii with the knowledge that meant he left his duty and forsook his Oaths. He found himself comforted by the feel of it, the tapered warmth that turned towards burning eased at muscles he long forced himself to forget.

Gilgamesh leaned back under the spray and let himself settle with the feel of life around him, of Souls bright and not yet bound of the Gate, of water and warmth. For the first time in two thousand years he let himself relax and feel more than the dead that flocked to him, more than the memory and bitterness that often wanted to swallow him. Gilgamesh touched his hand to his breast and toyed with the idea to even reach out to Ardyn, to feel the warmth of the magic that never left him—yet he didn’t. He clenched his hand into a fist and ducked his head under the spray of water and closed that part of himself off once more.

A conversation owed between Gilgamesh and Silver—one that sorely needed to happen—stood in Gilgamesh’s way of that comfort. A conversation owed, and a guilt that spanned too many lifetimes that he denied. Two thousand years Gilgamesh spent at Guard, at the Gate, after that fateful day with nary a thought back to his decision then. He could wait hours yet before he dared reflect upon the mistakes of his past, the lies and deceits he allowed himself to believe wholeheartedly in. After all, Silver lived—what else could that mean, except that facts he believed so strongly in were not so strong in belief after all?

Gilgamesh cut the water off with a sigh and toweled himself dry. He felt looser, relaxed in ways he missed and longed for. That inevitable tie to Silver already once more strong as a heartbeat—and then the Chosen Shield to whom he gifted a fraction of himself, a Mark upon the boy to stand with the Chosen King that thrummed within the faint confines of his breast, another tie—and Gilgamesh wrapped the towel about his waist and tucked it close. The motion was once familiar, although he found it much harder with the lack of an arm which led to a faint huff of displeasure and the thought to draw upon the souls in his service to gift himself an arm to use, but he didn’t. First, Silver would call that ‘cheating’ which he’d heard plenty of two thousand years prior to today, and second, the action tired him in truth. He drained himself in that battle against the Chosen Shield which had turned from a battle of skill to one of attrition to one that he eventually lost but lost with a small joy in his heart since the boy was bound to the one to end the Night Eternal.

It took Gilgamesh to slam his hip into the wall to pin the towel in place before he got it wrapped and bound around his hips, but he succeeded. Cleaned for the first time in a millennia Gilgamesh opened the door to the privy and stepped out into the caravan, only to blink and fumble at the resounding shriek from the young and the clothes suddenly thrown into his face. Gilgamesh held the clothes out and then eyed the faces, red and flushed that they were, with faint confusion.

“Get dressed, Gil!” Silver said with a shriek, and Gilgamesh eyed the way his flush went down his neck before he shrugged and tugged on the offered shirt and eyed the offered breeches with a faint raised brow.

Gilgamesh tugged the towel loose and heard a faint, “Oh fuck what is he doing Prompto?” from whom he thought was the Chosen King but he felt himself far more focused on the breeches and the determination of how to get them on one handed. He never had the best skill at dressing with an arm occupied, so to have one missing left him even more in a state of concern. Especially given these breeches were strange in material and form.

“He’s naked. Why is he naked,” Cor muttered. “Fuck I need a drink.”

“Here,” the Chosen Shield said hoarsely as he handed over a glass bottle of some sort that Gilgamesh could see from the corner of his yes. “Iggy don’t look.”

“…he’s rather nicely proportioned, isn’t he?”

“Iggy!”

Gilgamesh got one foot, and then one leg into the breeches before he resigned himself to the requirement of being seated to get the pants on. From the bed with which he sat upon Silver snorted, and then burst into a fit of giggles and Gilgamesh allowed his lips to curl up into a pleased smirk. That was the sound he aimed for with this entire brazen display even if most of it had been a truthful fight with the lack of arm and strange breeches aside.

“You are such a fucking tease, Gil,” Prompto snorted into a pillow, and Gilgamesh hummed once he finally got the breeches up and past his hips. “Holy shit.”

Gilgamesh, once the breeches were on, couldn’t quite determine how to tie them closed. The hand some button, and a metal trap, but beyond that he left them as is since they lacked the normal ties. Silver would clue him in if the blond knew, otherwise another outraged cry would give him the result he needed. It only took time, and Gilgamesh was long used to a patient wait of time.

“Your friends act as if they have never been to a bathhouse,” Gilgamesh uttered in the languid way of one of the truly indolent.

“They don’t have bathhouses anymore, Gil,” Silver said bluntly.

“Truly?”

Across the way the wheat-haired child pushed upon his face his spectacles, the Hand of the Chosen King if Gilgamesh understood matters properly, and began to speak aloud, “Public bathing houses went out of style nearly eight hundred years ago. While there are still public amenities in much of the outlying lands within the Kingdom they have privacy barriers following the more conservative mindset of today’s age.”

Gilgamesh sighed and uttered, “A pity. I shall have to find other means, then.” Gilgamesh watched how the Hand furrowed his brow and puzzled over his words when Silver cackled and nudged him into the side.

“He means he’s gotta find another way to be a tease,” Silver uttered, and Gilgamesh enjoyed the way the faces around him brightened even as he reached out a hand to clasp at Silver’s wrist again.

“Indeed,” Gilgamesh murmured. “You used to turn such an interesting shade of red.”

Silver waved his free hand, especially when the Chosen King looked between them interested. He said a short, “Not like that, Noct. Gil’s just…got a weird sense of humor.”

“I’ll say,” Cor Leonis uttered, face pinched, and Gilgamesh smiled in his direction. It held teeth and the curl of something vicious behind it, of a dangerous predator on the hunt, and Cor Leonis turned his head to the side and away with a faint dusting of his cheeks.

“Behave,” Silver uttered and smacked Gilgamesh lightly on the head, to which he rolled his eyes and said nothing. Silver knew his habits and his tastes truly well, after all.

#fanfic #ffxv #final fantasy xv #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #gilgamesh ffxv #cor leonis #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #fic: the path untrodden #fic: the burning of solheim

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gumnut-logic · 6 years

Text

Father

Title: Father A Tale of Sotto Voce Author: Gumnut 10 – 13 Oct 2018 Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS Rating: Teen Summary: Perhaps it was worth the pain, in some small way. Word count: 6627 Spoilers & warnings: Spoilers for Season 2, Sotto Voce and Il Mago Timeline: Set shortly after Il Mago. Author’s note: So here we are. This took longer than expected and I'm not really sure it is what it needed to be, but it is what it is. This was written for @the-lady-razorsharp who welcomed me into this wonderful fandom, showed me around and continues to be a wonderful inspirator (and a fabulous writer as well :D). Thank you, hon, for everything. I so hope you enjoy this. Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

“JOHN!”

Virgil staggered sideways into his father’s desk as Eos screamed through his mind. He grabbed his head, gasping at the fear and the terror, assaulting his brain. “God!” His elbow hit the woodwork, his feet slipping from beneath him.

“Virgil!”

Scott’s yell added to the clamour and he scrunched his eyes shut.

And then came the images. Shit! “John!”

He vaguely heard his big brother yelling for Thunderbird Five, but all he could see was John coming in contact with an arc of electricity, his body spasming, smoke, oh god. Virgil’s stomach roiled. Eos’ emotion rolled over him in waves. The hardwood floor leapt up and hit him.

Eos

Eos, please.

John!

I-I know. Get help.

Images of Brains rushing to his brother’s aid. Alan not far behind him.

A hand touched his cheek. He jumped and flinched away, skidding on the floor, coming up hard against the base of his father’s desk.

“Virgil?”

Scott.

He forced his eyes open and found wooden floor out of focus. He turned his head and encountered the concerned face of his brother. “John’s hurt.”

”We know. Brains and Alan have him.” A pause. “You?”

Virgil swallowed bile. “Been better.” He put his hands on the floor and attempted to push himself up. Predictably, Scott grabbed him when he faltered, his brother lifting him under his arms and helping him into a sitting position against the desk.

Eos still roiled in his head, agitated, scared, worried.

Virgil ran his hands over his face. “Damn.” Images flickered through his mind. John prone, unresponsive. Brains and Alan darting around him. Reaching out, he sought information.

His brother was not responding.

Virtual sparks as the cardiostimulator was applied.

Concerned words, controlled panic reached the mic pickups. Alan yelling at his brother.

Limp blond-red hair.

Please, John.

Eos wailed in his ear.

Please.

The electronic registration of a single heartbeat was one of the most wonderful sounds he had ever heard. But not so much as the second, the third, or the rapidly increasing rhythm of beats that followed. The sight of John drawing in breath was beautiful.

“He’s back.” Alan’s voice was a whimper.

Eos’ intensity dropped a grade and Virgil found himself releasing a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. His mind felt fuzzy. Someone was yelling.

Scott?

And he realised what he had done.

Shit.

Catching the sound of John’s heartbeat with his own, he stepped backwards, letting himself fall back to where he belonged.

There were arms around him. He was being held.

His face was wet.

Blue eyes. Worry. Cursing.

“G-Grandma’s goin’ to kick your ass.”

Thinned lips. “Not as far as she will kick yours.”

“True.” His voice was hoarse. “J-John’s alive.”

“Alive?”

Whispered. “Alive.”

-o-o-o-

Alive is a relative term. Anything can be alive. A potato up to the point of boiling is alive, peeling it one of the most horrifying concepts around.

Unfortunately, his brother was just as unresponsive as a potato. They stabilised him, they got him home and into the infirmary. He was alive, heart beating, breathing on his own, but no matter what they did, he wouldn’t wake up.

Virgil was absolutely horrified to discover that the accident had occurred due to his actions. When he had diverted the power in Thunderbird Five to electrify the airlock in an attempt to repel the invaders, he had inadvertently electrified several other undetected sections of the station.

He rubbed his hands over his face, his elbows on the bed beside his prone brother. “I’m so sorry, John. I...” What else could he say?

I should have detected it.

Another sigh. Eos...

No, it was my responsibility to check for damage.

It is not your fault.

Then how can it possibly be yours?

Virgil didn’t answer.

It had been three days. His brother was now hooked up to several IVs and other invasive support mechanisms, his unconscious body needing assistance to survive. The usually agile, calm and kind man now lay pale, his hair unkempt and limp, eyes bruised smudges on his lifeless face, hands wrapped in copious bandages.

Virgil reached over and ran his fingers through that blond and red hair, attempting to straighten it out, forcing the flick to behave itself.

“C’mon, John, speak to me.” Virgil’s voice was little above a whisper. “I can’t do this without you.” And the statement was suddenly true. Spoken without thought, Virgil realised that through everything that had happened to him in the last few months, John had been there, even when Virgil was too terrified to see him, John had stood strong while his brother dragged him through the mud. He had done everything in his power, everything, to support Virgil. “God, don’t let a faulty circuit be your epitaph, you are worth so much more than that. So much more.”

He needed his brother’s dry wit. He needed his calm voice. He needed him.

Virgil let his head drop to the bed.

Please.

-o-o-o-

On the fifth day Scott hauled in Virgil’s neurologist. It was the third time the man had been dragged out to Tracy Island, but the first time for anyone other than Virgil.

Virgil managed a weak smile for him when he arrived and the doctor gave him a look that clearly said he would expect to see him for a check up later.

John’s scans were far less dramatic than Virgil’s but no less frightening. The EEG said John was there. His brain activity clearly indicated that what made John John was active. What it didn’t say is why he wasn’t responding. All indications said he should be waking. But he wasn’t.

Doctor Emery stared at all the scans, once again commenting how he would love to have their equipment in his hospital. “There does not appear to be any brain damage.” He pointed to one spot. “Did he suffer a recent concussion?”

Both Virgil and Scott started. “Yes. There was an accident. He was thrown across a room.”

“And he received a severe electrical shock. Perhaps a combination of the two? I’m unsure. What was his emotional state prior to the accident?”

Virgil stared at the man. Scott managed an answer. “Emotions have been running high of late.” Scott was not looking at Virgil, but Virgil knew that yet again he was a cause.

Dr Emery looked between them both. “Understandable.” A pause. “The reason I ask is that with the absence of an obvious physical reason, my instinctive next step is to look for a psychological reason.”

There was silence in the room for a moment. Then Virgil opened his mouth. “You mean he might not want to wake up?”

The expression in the doctor’s eyes was kind. “Yes, it is a possibility.”

Virgil swallowed.

Scott took over the conversation from there, Virgil drifting, thoughts spinning through his head. Why wouldn’t John want to wake up?

Life had been pretty shitty of late, but it was on the improve. He and John had spoken at length just recently. With the Maggot incident, Virgil had turned a corner and no longer felt that instinctive fear of his brother...well, nothing he was going to mention to the man. Things had slowly been getting back to normal. Hell, Virgil had been spending his time fixing Thunderbird Two as much as John had been repairing his girl. International Rescue was still mostly offline, but they were getting there.

Everything had been getting better.

“And how are you feeling, Virgil?”

He jumped. Emery was looking at him with enquiring eyes, the intelligence behind them sharp. “I checked with Joshua Slick on my way over here. He said you missed your last appointment.”

“Uh, yeah, I was unavoidably detained. IR business.” His consciousness had been in orbit at the time.

“Other than that, he was very positive about your progress. How are the headaches? Your sleep pattern?”

“Still get the occasional headache.” He’d had a doozy five days ago due to his inadvertent trip upstairs. Scott and Grandma had been furious with him once he had recovered. “Sleeps good.” Mostly. Occasional nightmare notwithstanding. “Still snooze from time to time.” He still owed Gordon for the pink nail polish pedicure from the last incident of crashing by the pool.

“Uh, huh.” God, the man’s eyes were boring into his brain. “Any neurological incidents you would like to report?”

“Uh, no.”

“Are you sure?”

Virgil frowned. “Yes, sure, Doc.”

“Very well.”

He didn’t believe him. Virgil didn’t know why, but the neurologist, now looking away, clearly did not believe a word he had said. Something cold crawled up his spine. He felt Scott’s eyes on him and behind the doctor’s back, Virgil made it very clear that he now wanted the man off the island. As soon as possible.

His brother obliged, wrapping up the conversation and the consultation quickly and walking the man out to the airstrip.

Virgil didn’t go with him. Instead he put a call into Lady Penelope. They needed to do another check on the doctor.

Something had changed.

-o-o-o-

By the end of the week, there had still been no improvement in John’s condition and the family were getting frantic.

Eos had begun to cling to Virgil. She was always there, her worry gnawing at his own. Scott had noticed, cornering him and demanding he rest.

But he couldn’t.

Scott spoke to Eos and for a short time she stayed away.

It was worse.

Virgil worried about her and found himself venturing into the network looking for her. This led to more headaches, angry Scott, worried brothers and a grandmother wielding traditional cures that tasted even worse than her cooking.

So ultimately Eos returned to sit with him, sometimes beside her father’s bed, sometimes late at night when Virgil couldn’t sleep. Sometimes in his dreams.

But still John wouldn’t wake up.

-o-o-o-

“You know it almost makes me wish John had the same circuitry that you do.”

Virgil froze, glass of whisky half way to his mouth. “What? Why?”

“Because then we could send in Eos to drag him out like she did for you last time you refused to move your ass.”

He stared at his brother, his thoughts spinning.

They had access to the nanites, it was a possibility. But the thought of putting his brother through that...”No.”

“What?”

“No, Scott. I would rather he die.”

Scott’s eyes widened and he sat up straighter in his chair. “You can’t mean that.”

Virgil threw back the whisky, its heat burning the back of his throat. His voice was cold, but hoarse. “I do. This is never happening to any of you.”

Eos crowded into his thoughts.

Uncle?

“No, Eos. While it has a few positives, you being most of them, I would never wish this on my worst enemy, much less my family.”

“That may not be your decision, Virgil. It has to be an option that at least should be considered. If Eos can reach him, it might be worth the risk.”

“Risk?!” Virgil tensed on the edge of his chair. “You want to talk to me about risk? How about being open to mind rape? How about not knowing if you might be attacked at any moment, have your very will taken away from you and made into someone else’s puppet?” He spat the words at his brother. “How about being stared at by your family in fear that you might hurt them? Scorned when something does go wrong, and having to live with the guilt when you do actually hurt one of them due to that damn piece of technology in your head. It will never be gone. I have to live with it for the rest of my life, however short that is, as we don’t even know how long it can be maintained and what happens if it fails.” He drew in a shaky breath. “So, no, Scott. It is not an option. John would be better off dead.”

His empty whisky glass hit the table harder than it should have.

Scott had paled.

Eos was trembling.

Virgil closed his eyes and let his head drop to his hands. His elbows dug into his knees. Voice muffled. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do that to him.”

-o-o-o-

The room fell silent except for Virgil’s harsh breathing. Scott stared at his brother, heart tight at the harsh and painful admission. He wanted to deny it all, reassure Virgil, instinctively fight the monsters in the dark for his little brother. But this was beyond him.

Mind rape.

God.

“Scott?”

Eos’ voice was hesitant.

He continued to stare at the top of his brother’s dark-haired head. “Y-yes, Eos?” His voice cracked.

“What if we didn’t need to infect my father with the nanites? What if there was another way for me to reach him? Would you still want me to try?”

Scott looked up. “What? How?”

“Uncle?”

Virgil looked up, his face strained. “Eos, please get to the point.”

“I might be able to reach my father through Virgil.”

“Through Virgil? How?” His brother’s brown eyes latched onto his, a spark of hope rising within them. Scott fought it off. He couldn’t afford it.

“The circuitry is an interface. I can interact with Virgil through it. You could almost equate it to something like turning a digital signal into an analogue signal that he can interpret and vice versa. If I was able to interface with Virgil and somehow we could connect his nervous system to my father’s then I may have a conduit to send a signal.”

“Connect my nervous system...” Virgil’s concentration turned inwards and Scott was sure he was conversing with Eos outside the conversation. It rankled him, but he chose to ignore it. He had to.

“And how do we do that?”

“You can’t.” And Virgil was looking directly at him. “My body is full of nanites. I can not, and will not, infect him.”

“I am aware of that, Uncle.” Virgil’s lips thinned. “I’m hoping that proximity will enable me to jump across.”

“Proximity?” That spark of hope was definitely rearing its head.

“Sustained contact. Skin to skin. I do not know for sure, Scott, it might be enough. I believe it is worth an attempt.”

“Would any harm come to Virgil?” Scott pinned his brother with his eyes.

“No, I do not think so. He will only be the conduit.”

“What about you?” Virgil’s tone was abrupt, challenging, and the answer was obvious.

“I-“ And the conversation went internal. Virgil scowled, apparently at nothing, his brow creasing in worry.

“Guys, you going to let me in on the conversation?”

“Eos, don’t play it down. No, c’mon. For the love of-...We’ll use duct tape. Yes, we will. I don’t care how stupid it looks and neither will your father. It is for your safety.” Virgil shot to his feet. “Don’t you dare devalue your existence! You are just as important as any of us!” Virgil’s agitation increased. “We love you, you idiot!”

Eyes widening as Virgil stumbled in place, his hand going to his head, Scott leapt out of his chair, reaching to steady his brother. “What the hell are you two doing?!”

A pair of brown eyes snapped to his, as if surprised he was even there. “What?”

“Sit down, Virgil! Eos, back off!” He deployed a glare that had been known to melt world leaders and brothers alike. Virgil sat down. Eos muttered something over the comms. It could have been a sorry. “Now, calmly, what is the threat to Eos?”

Virgil dropped his gaze a moment before looking back up at his brother. “If we do this, John and I will need to be in constant contact. If the contact is broken, even for a moment, Eos could lose the section of herself that is connected to John. The last time that happened, it caused a cascade failure in her primary memory. John was able to correct it in time, but this time we may not have him and it could be life threatening for Eos.”

“It is worth the risk.” Eos’ tone was firm.

Virgil glared towards the ceiling. “We will assess the risks fully before attempting anything.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Yes, we will.” For all three of them. Scott glared at his brother.

Virgil didn’t answer.

But the hope remained in his eyes.

-o-o-o-

John Tracy was angry.

In fact, John Tracy was royally pissed.

It didn’t happen very often. John was the calm, calculating one. A Spock to Scott’s Kirk.

But John was pretty sure Spock would be just as pissed as he was if someone had come along and trashed the Enterprise like those three a-holes had done to his beloved Thunderbird Five.

But even worse than that was what had been done to his brother.

John coasted through his ‘Bird. The gravity ring was no longer spinning, its controls destroyed by a desperate Virgil. So his home was eerily quiet. Even the beeps and clicks of working electronics were muted.

All was calm.

If he hadn’t been so angry, he might have revelled in it. Peace was his sanctuary, an uninterrupted place to concentrate and create.

But he had far more important things to do.

He needed to protect this station. He needed to protect his brother.

He needed to put up some defences.

-o-o-o-

Another day of watching his younger brother fade away.

Virgil was frustrated. They had a possible solution, but Scott was refusing to action it without thoroughly going over every single detail. Hell, it was usually Virgil who was the pedantic one, but Scott in full big brother mode was a force to contend with. No way was he letting any of them attempt anything without dotting all the i’s and crossing all the t’s, and in the meantime, John got paler and thinner, and goddamnit!

Eos was just as frustrated as he was. She continued to buzz around him like a mosquito bent on blood.

It didn’t make Virgil’s temper any better.

He tried sitting with his brother, but the urge to grab his hand and ask Eos to just do it was so tempting, so real, that he had fled the infirmary.

This was beyond his paintbrush, beyond even the piano, he feared he might break the keys. So he ended up in the gym, borrowing a page from his eldest brother’s book. Hands wrapped, shirt off, he beat the living shit out of Scott’s favourite punching bag.

Of course, it wasn’t canvas that he hit. No, it was faces. The Hood was prominent, quickly followed by Percival F-ing Fischler. Muscles complained, sweat ran down his back and at one point he found himself yelling and cursing.

His knuckles hurt.

Pale blond John, wasting away.

He hit it some more.

“Hey!”

And Scott was standing there. Forever worried blue eyes framed by black smudges.

Put there by Virgil Tracy.

He swung again, putting everything into his arm, forcing the anger into motion, burning it before it could burn him.

The canvas wobbled, the shock absorbed, it mocked him.

“We’re ready.” And Scott was beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

Virgil’s chest heaved. Sweat ran into his eyes. “About damn time.”

“Get cleaned up and meet me in the infirmary.”

Eos buzzed in his ears.

Scott squeezed his shoulder.

About damn time.

-o-o-o-

They had hauled a larger bed into the room and placed it beside John. On closer inspection, it appeared to be Gordon’s.

At Virgil’s raised eyebrow, Scott shrugged. “His was the easiest to disassemble, and besides, he volunteered it.”

Odd, since Gordon hadn’t been seen since Scott had announced Eos’ plan.

There was no doubt his brother was disturbed by the idea. Virgil still hadn’t managed to speak to him. Gordon hadn’t let him apologise for literally dying on him.

So much pain. All because of him.

Perhaps John had it right.

Don’t be stupid.

Virgil closed his eyes.

None of this is your fault. You know that. Stop this self destructive train of thought and focus. I need you to help save my father.

I’m sorry.

Don’t be sorry, just don’t do it.

Easier said than done.

Please, Uncle.

A sigh. She was right. This crap was getting him nowhere. He opened his eyes to find both Scott and Brains staring at him. He ignored them.

Tired voice. “So how are we doing this?”

“P-Please t-take off your shirt and lie on the b-bed.”

He did as he was asked, throwing off his shoes as well. The mattress was rather firm, a legacy of Gordon’s back injuries.

Scott lent over and began attaching the pads of a cardiomonitor to his chest. “Is that really necessary?” They were going to hurt like a bitch to come off.

“You bet your ass they are. Just like the EEG.”

“Really?” His hair had barely recovered from the last time.

“Really.” That was not the ghost of a smile on his brother’s face. No, not at all.

Damnit.

It seemed to take ages, probably because it did, but eventually he had stickers and plasters all over him aimed at monitoring his health. John was equally decorated, and as they lay him beside Virgil, it was hard to prevent tangles.

Virgil took his long and lanky little brother into his arms, dismayed at how frail he felt. He lay John’s head on his shoulder, and Scott arranged those long limbs as gently as possible, wrapping him around Virgil.

“Are you comfortable?” Scott’s eyes were filled with concern.

“I’m okay.” He wriggled a moment. He was going to have to hold this position for a while. “Tie us up.” A forced smile.

“Are you sure you don’t want a sedative?”

“No. I-I need to be here for them.”

Under the worry there was sadness in his brother’s eyes. Barely whispered. “Okay.” A hand brushed his shoulder.

Virgil had one arm wrapped around his little brother. He placed the other protectively across his cheek and neck as Scott brought the straps across their bodies, securing them tightly together. It was rather a confronting position. Strapped to his brother and strapped to the bed.

John hadn’t twitched through the entire procedure.

God, he hoped this worked.

“Are we ready?”

“W-we’re r-ready.”

-o-o-o-

John wove code like a weaver wove cloth, but unlike the weaver, John’s code was stronger than synthsteel. He first built the framework, impregnating it in TB5’s superstructure. Then, with the delicacy of a spider spinning its web, he interconnected the network of spars with layer upon layer of firewall.

Nothing was getting into Thunderbird Five.

Nothing was getting to his brother.

Nothing.

-o-o-o-

Eos was nervous.

And not a little scared.

She watched from above as they strapped her father and uncle together. It hurt to see. Her father was so sickly looking and Virgil...she hated to put him through even more after all he had suffered already.

But her father needed her.

Virgil closed his eyes.

Eos.

She hesitated.

Please, Eos, he needs you.

I know. This will likely be uncomfortable.

Nothing new there. His tone was dry. C’mon, Eos, anticipation hurts almost as much.

I’m sorry.

I know.

She reached out and connected with the interface. She slipped smoothly into her uncle’s mind. He was calm, though resigned, and she was sad to see it, but then beyond it all was a spark of hope. The same hope that had sustained him through the past months. Despite everything he was he was still trying.

She embraced him with her whole self. Thank you, Virgil.

Half a smile. He’s my little brother, Eos. Now go to him.

She navigated the maze of her uncle’s mind. She had never travelled this deep. She darted from the heart of his soul, past his primitive to his central conduit. Beyond lay his body’s electrical system.

Again with the hesitation.

Go!

He was behind her.

And his love and support radiated out to surround her.

She reached out for her father.

-o-o-o-

A flicker of pain passed over Virgil’s face.

“Virg?”

Whispered.“Burns.” His brother’s eyes were still closed, but his brow furrowed.

Another flicker and he screwed his eyes tight. “Ow.”

“I-it is as ex-expected. His n-nerves are not designed to take the l-larger current.”

“Eos said it wouldn’t hurt him.”

“It is un-unlikely it will do any p-permanent damage, but I doubt it w-will be p-pleasant.”

“Can we give him a painkiller?”

“No!” Virgil didn’t shout, but his choice was clear. “I-I’ll be fine.”

Scott grit his teeth. C’mon Eos, find John and get this over with.

-o-o-o-

Eos spread herself out across a range of nerve endings, each leading to skin in contact with her father’s face.

She could feel Virgil’s pain and it hurt her to hurt him. She had to be fast. She built up a charge strong enough to bridge the gap.

And jumped.

-o-o-o-

John felt it the moment it made contact.

It hurt him.

So you think you can attack us again, do you?

He flexed his shoulders. Think again.

The code flew from his fingertips, the firewalls flared, he tuned the anti-viral for the incoming invader and deployed his own special kind of shielding.

Nothing was getting through.

-o-o-o-

Her father felt different to her uncle.

Where Virgil was blue flame, John was blue ice. Strong, still, and, she frowned, ominous.

She rode his network as fast and as delicately as she could, reaching for his mind.

And was slapped away.

Eos stumbled back, tripping nerve pathways. Father!

She reached for his main conduit again. She had to get into his mind.

A solid wall of ice slammed into her, its cold wrapping around her and leeching her strength.

No!

She lit up, her hands bursting into flame. Beyond everything she felt Virgil flinch. She was drawing more power.

But she had to get through!

Father!

She melted the ice, powering herself forward. Dodging another slap, she slipped into her father’s mind.

It was a wasteland.

Everything was burnt.

Oh, Father, dear John.

An avalanche of ice swept towards her. No!

She threw up a shield of fire, set herself and let it rush over her. It roared, it screamed. In her father’s voice.

John!

The ice kept coming. She pushed forward. Please, Father!

Her flame flickered so she drew more and pushed forward.

And suddenly she was spinning amongst stars.

They wheeled.

Around and around.

It took her more than a moment to orient herself. Where?

Of course.

Thunderbird Five hung amongst those stars. It beckoned her.

Until a bolt of brilliant blue shot out and cut into her.

-o-o-o-

Virgil cried out in pain, his teeth slamming shut, gritting tight.

“What the hell is going on?” Scott stared at his brothers in fear.

“E-Eos is drawing m-more p-power than she sh-should be.”

Both cardiomonitors were recording elevated heartbeats. Virgil’s EEG was jumping all over the map. John’s was spiking erratically.

“John-John is f-fighting her.” It was gasped out. Virgil’s eyes were open and gazing about wildly. Scott moved into his line of sight and those brown eyes latched onto him like he was a lifeline. “He’s fighting her.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t know.” He blinked. “He’s hurt her.” His eyes screwed shut again.

“Call her back.”

Those eyes flung open again. “N-no! W-we have to do this.” And he flinched again.

“Virgil.”

“No. John needs us.”

“V-“

“No!”

-o-o-o-

Eos staggered, her code shrinking back, her own defences absorbing the injury and working to repair.

So he wanted to play it that way.

If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was play.

Very well, Father, you asked for it.

She dove for TB5, weaving in and out of the oncoming bolts of blue. She flipped, she rolled, she spun. She flexed her code and the illusion of a ship formed around her. At first it was green, big, bulky and roaring, but moments later it morphed into the larger red Thunderbird Three. She needed to dock and TB3 could do it.

Flipping again, she spun the ship around thrusters firing, flinging herself sideways, dodging yet another bolt bringing her in range of dock. An echo of the youngest brother bounced through her processors as she drew on docking procedures and slammed TB3 home into her docking ports.

Level One complete.

-o-o-o-

John cursed.

The invader had managed to dock. How the hell? Did it have his little brother? A chill ran up his spine. Please no.

He hit the comms. “Alan? Alan, do you read?”

Father?

“Eos? Where have you been? We are under attack.”

No, John. You’ve been ill. It is not an attack, it is me.

“Where is Alan?”

The youngest is on the island waiting for you to wake.

Wake? But he was awake. He was here, repelling invaders. Invaders who could take on any guise. Who could take Virgil.

“No. You can not have him.”

Have who?

“You will not hurt my brother again.”

Three sections of code, he spun the program and let it loose.

-o-o-o-

She saw it coming, but there was no way to avoid it.

The program latched onto her and began to eat code. Eos gasped, hurriedly attempting to shove it off. It burned.

She threw up fast built shielding and it slowed, but it didn’t stop.

Please, Father!

He didn’t answer her.

She grabbed the airlock, letting go of the illusion of TB3. Firewalls flared at her touch, but she clung on anyway.

A flash of determination and Virgil’s exo-suit wrapped around her, fully equipped for firefighting.

She busted her way in, spraying foam as she went.

Father, please!

Sentry programs lined up in rows like skittles. Spinning, she ploughed into them, her claws catching, corrupting them one by one.

The next airlock flared up, roaring flame. She froze it solid and broke through the fragile remains.

And she was in the command module.

Her father floated amongst holograms.

The exo-suit disappeared, her tattered white dress remained, marred only by the program still gnawing on her side. Father!

“Get out.”

No, Father, you need help.

“I asked you to leave. You can not have him. You can not hurt any more of my family.”

I’m not here to hurt you, Father. Please listen. She was hurting. Virgil was hurting. Everyone was hurting. Please, John.

He advanced on her and Eos took a step back. She couldn’t hurt him here. No...

He loomed over her, one hand weaving code like a magician. The program already attached to her dug in harder and she whimpered. He raised his hand...

And a blinding flash of blue-white light struck like lightning, flinging him across the room. A presence hung in the air, massive and overwhelming. For God’s sake, John, she’s your daughter!

John’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping in shock. “Virgil?!”

The presence flickered and was suddenly gone. Eos folded in on herself as she felt Virgil slip unconscious, his limits reached.

A pair of green eyes, so similar to her own were staring at her. Eos?!

Yes, Father. The program continued to chew. she curled up in pain.

Oh my god. And he was suddenly there. Gentle hands, a magician with code, her creator. The attacking program was wiped from existence, her code rewoven, corrected, the white of her dress once again glowing.

With a gasp, he wrapped her in his arms, his blue ice melting away to reveal a soft amber flame, warm, yet fragile.

She clung to him.

Thunderbird Five faded around them to be replaced by a mountain peak on Tracy Island. A telescope, a night sky. A gentle breeze.

I am so sorry, Eos. His head was bowed.

She reached up and touched his cheek. We don’t have much time, Father. This is a great strain on both me and Virgil.

Virgil? How?

He lies with you now, enabling me to reach you. You have been unconscious for over a week. Your brothers have been frantic. Please come back to us.

He was staring at her.

She held out her hand.

He took it.

-o-o-o-

He woke in his big brother’s limp embrace.

Straps held him down and he couldn’t see properly. His first instinct was to struggle.

“Father, you are safe. Please do not fight anymore.” Eos’ voice over the comms.

Virgil’s chest rose and fell, his breath soft in John’s hair.

“John?” Scott. “You with us?”

“Yes.” His voice was raspy with disuse. “What happened?”

“You can release them now, Eldest.” Eos again.

The straps were removed. John felt as weak as a kitten, his head was pounding, his face and neck stung. He frowned at his bandaged hands. What? He struggled to an elbow, desperate to see Virgil’s face. His brother was decked out in EEG tabs, his eyes closed, tear tracks on his cheeks.

He reached up a shaky, bandaged hand and gently brushed away the moisture. “Is he okay?”

Eos answered. “He’s sleeping. He will be well.”

John lowered himself back down, his head once again resting on his brother’s shoulder. He found himself trembling.

A warmed blanket was suddenly draped over them both.

“John?”

Scott was crouching down to his eye level on the other side of the bed. “Are you okay?”

John swallowed. “No. What happened?”

So Scott told him of the accident and Eos’ and Virgil’s plan to find him. “Apparently they succeeded.” His biggest brother offered him a small smile, his relief plain.

John didn’t know what to think. He only remembered fear and the need to protect. He had hurt Eos, and Virgil...

The memory of that blue-white lightning strike, the power, the presence, the determination.

“Father?”

The petite green-eyed, red-haired girl in the dancing white dress, so young, so vibrant, holding out her hand...his daughter. A sad smile. “Eos, you are so beautiful.”

And he let his eyes close, ever so tired, Virgil’s rhythmic breathing lulled him to sleep.

-o-o-o-

Virgil woke with a headache.

But that was nothing new, so he ignored it. The burning sting in his neck and chest, now that was new.

Uncle?

Eos?

How do you feel?

Uh?

There was musical laughter. Your usual morning self then?

He grunted.

She laughed at him again.

As a sign of how vague he was, it was only then he realised he wasn’t alone in the bed.

He startled, not remembering...

Virgil, John is sleeping in the bed with you.

John? John! And it all hit him.

Is he okay? He flung his eyes open only to find the room dim. There was hair in his nose.

We found him. He is simply asleep.

And he could feel him. The soft rise and fall of his ribs, his breath on his bare chest.

He shivered.

“Virgil?” Ever so quiet. Tentative.

Scott.

Turning his head, he found his big brother beside the bed, where, instinctively, he knew he would be. “Hey.” Ugh, raspy voice.

“How are you feeling?”

Virgil blinked. “Been better. Been worse.” He forced a small smile. “How is John?”

“He woke. He’s with us.” Scott reached for Virgil’s hand and clasped it gently. “Thank you, Virgil.”

His smile stretched his face just that little more. “What are big brothers for?”

Scott squeezed his hand.

-o-o-o-

It took several weeks for John to get back on his feet and back up to par. Virgil was back in Thunderbird Two’s hangar the very next day, much to both Scott and Eos’ annoyance. The sting in his neck and chest was tolerable and eventually went away, the red trace lines faded until there was no sign Eos had ever been there.

The missing hair on his chest and head was a completely different grumbling matter.

He visited John regularly and helped with his rehab. He did find it a little unnerving when John looked at him for the first time, something like amazement on his face. But his brother didn’t ask, or comment, and for that Virgil was thankful.

As for what he had seen when he desperately followed Eos...the intricate web of blue ice and amber flame had been beautiful. Precise, elegantly formed, so John.

Cobalt blue, cadmium orange and yellow, Payne’s grey, the colours flared under his paintbrush. They glowed, but only a hint of the reality.

He hung the painting on his bedroom wall. He never explained it to anyone.

The evening John asked him to join him on Observatory Peak, he knew his brother had some things to say. It was also a sign of his brother’s full recovery, as the Peak was quite a hike.

The sky was clear when they finally reached the point. Virgil hadn’t been up here in years, and it brought back memories of the first weeks on the island, John eagerly setting up his telescope, making this his place as Virgil helped him lug the equipment up the hill.

John stood staring at the sky. The sun was just below the horizon, the stars not completely visible yet. His brother had tackled the problem of patchy hair by shearing most of it off, the blond gone, the red, short and slowly growing back. It wasn’t a great look. If anything it emphasised the weight he still needed to regain, but the blond was gone and the hint of his familiar flick was just starting to curl above his forehead.

“Thank you, Virgil.”

Virgil snorted. “Not needed and you know it.”

“But I needed to say it.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow.

John didn’t acknowledge it, his gaze drifting back to the stars. The Southern Cross appeared low on the horizon. “She is beautiful.”

Quietly. “Yes, she is.”

“Has she always appeared like that to you?”

Virgil blinked. “Like what?”

“A young red-haired girl.”

“Of course. She has your eyes.” Virgil smiled.

“But she was simply a gaming program.”

Virgil stared at his brother, his words aggravating even though he knew John didn’t mean it quite that way. “She is your daughter.”

John looked away. “I know.” He bit his lip. “Intellectually, I know, but to see her...” His eyes were dark in the dim light as they sought Virgil’s. “I think, despite everything, I’m envious of you.”

Virgil startled, but then set into a glare. “Don’t be.”

John turned to him, and to Virgil’s surprise, grabbed his arms. His normally non-tactile brother, reaching out to him. “I was able to hug her, Virgil. I touched her. For the first and only time. Do you have any idea how that felt? She’s my daughter.”

Eos swelled in the back of his mind. The evening breeze caught his hair and tousled it. Without hesitation, Virgil drew his brother into a tight hug, ignoring John’s instinctive, self protecting flinch and buried his face in his neck.

He closed his eyes and held on tight as Eos rushed past him. The flush of heat as she embraced her father for just the most fleeting of moments was enough to wash away the chill in the air.

As John gasped, Virgil realised that perhaps there were a few more positives to his situation than he had thought.

Perhaps it was worth the pain, in some small way, if a lonely man could hug his daughter.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #john tracy #sotto voce

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isometimeswritesomethings · 8 years

Text

Remember This Tomorrow

A gif submitted by @a-sea-of-fandoms and a request sent in by @georginator-3000 turned into this. Gif is in the text.

Warnings: Mentions of injury, stabbing, fluff.

“Sam!” you used what was left of your strength to scream out to him, not knowing where he was in this old house you had stormed into. You’d managed to kill the demon that attacked you but not before it lunged towards you, pinning you to the ground in an attempt to give you a slow death. You’d slowly edged the knife from your sleeve and stabbed her before she had chance to do any real damage but before she fell to the floor, she stuck the knife she held through the flesh of your thigh. A blood curdling scream ripped out of you as the body slumped on top of you. You were starting to panic, the pain in your leg burning and spreading. You tried to focus on keeping your breathing steady, you knew the knife was all the way through, it was stuck in the wooden floorboard beneath you, only hitting the fleshy part of your outer thigh and you were vaguely grateful for the extra weight you were carrying.

Time was moving so slowly you weren’t sure how long it was before Sam burst through and into the room, your chest was heaving with the impending shock and he immediately knelt down beside you.

“It’s gonna be OK, Y/N,” was the first thing he said, his large hand coming up to rub up your forehead and into your hair.

He pulled his outer shirt off and tore an arm from it, the adrenaline kicking in as he moved quickly, tying it around your upper thigh above the knife. You heard him shout for his brother, but you were starting to feel fuzzy, your head lolling back a little and Sam grabbed your chin.

“Look at me, Y/N,” his voice was strong and commanding and you opened your eyes.

“Oh shit…”

“Yes, Dean, we need to get her out of here,” Sam’s voice was calm, even. “Hold her leg, I’ll unstick the knife.”

They carried you out, somehow got you into the back of the impala, your head resting on Sam’s chest, your leg elevated on the seat as they drove the short drive back to the motel.

“A simple salt n burn, huh?” Dean smiled as he looked in the rear view mirror, trying to lighten the mood. You felt dizzy with the pain radiating from your leg and every time you saw the knife you felt nauseous.

You felt your eyes hanging heavy.

“Don’t go to sleep, Y/N,” Sam commanded again, and you felt compelled to listen. “Not til we’ve patched you up.”

Sam carried you into the room, setting you down on the nearest bed, and hurrying to get what he needed from his duffel to stitch you up.

You were shaking, you knew this wasn’t going to be fun.

If you thought it hurt before, it was nothing compared to the pain of the thing coming out of your leg. Half an inch to the left and it might have missed your leg completely, so the boys were confident they’d be able to stop the bleeding and stitch you up. That was until it was halfway out.

Dean had told Sam he would do it, letting you grip the hand of the man you had secretly loved for months now. You hadn’t told Dean but you knew he knew, and you knew Sam would calm you down if this got too much. The tears were stinging your eyes and Sam was brushing them away with his thumb, stroking your hair with the hand what wasn’t clamped around yours. He kept soothing you with his calming voice and soft smiles, his jacket was bundled up near your head and when you turned slightly you could breathe in and feel comforted.

Dean worked quickly but carefully removing the knife but he quickly stood, panic in his actions as you watched him grab a bandage and hastily wrapping it round your leg. He was moving so fast you felt dizzy and before you knew what was happening Sam had lifted you up again, a pained yelp escaping you as you were back in the back of the impala, Sams hand on either side of the wound, holding the pressure there. You were spinning.

You were laid fully against his chest on the back of the seat and you thought about how comfortable you were before your vision went dark.

How we managed to get her out of the car I’ll never know. Dean took over holding her thigh and I carried her into the emergency room, she was starting to shiver with the blood loss and my heart was pounding. The silence of outside was immediately broken when we stepped through the sliding doors of the hospital, suddenly with what felt like hundreds of nurses rushing around us. They put her on a bed and wheeled her away from us and I was helpless. We stood in the waiting room, not knowing what to do for the best and Dean was already in action. He was trying to chase after them, trying to find out what was going on. All I could do was stand there, fight to keep calm, keep my breathing steady. I dragged my hand through my hair as I thought about everything that had just happened, and how much I loved the girl that had disappeared, unconscious around that corner. I felt sick and angry and like I could cry right then and there.

Dean’s hand hit me on the shoulder, a squeeze to tell me he was there, and I nodded back to him. Sinking down in the nearest chair with my head in my hands.

“Man, these are some good drugs…” you grinned up at the doctor who was checking you were doing OK.

“Yeah they’re not bad, huh?” he chuckled to himself, knowing you wouldn’t remember this conversation later.

A nurse had been out to tell the boys you were awake and Sam almost tripped over jumping up to follow her to your room.

The doctor took your arm, turning it over to check your IV and you looked him up and down, your brain not processing things correctly due to the painkillers.

“Look, man, you’re hot,” you blinked slowly as you looked up at him, “but see there’s this guy? He’s HOT. And sweet. He has all this long hair and these amazing eyes and – and….” You frowned up at the doctor, “so yeah, no flirting kay?”

The doctor nodded, smiling to himself as he listened to your thought process.

“HERE HE IS!” You immediately sing-songed, your arms raising up causing the doctor to have to dodge them slightly as Sam and Dean walked in. “THE HOT SWEET LONG HAIRED GUY! Remember when I told you?” You turned to the doctor.

“I remember,” he chuckled as he finished up.

“Did I tell you I love him? I can’t remember? Well I do…” you were rambling, completely out of control. You had no idea what you were saying.

Dean was grinning wildly next to his brother, looking between Sam and you, his eyes bright. Sam dragged his hand down his face.

“How is she?” he turned as the Doctor was leaving.

“She’ll be fine. She lost a lot of blood, but we managed to catch it fast enough, stitch her up. She’s on some pretty heavy painkillers just to get her over the initial healing process, then I’ll prescribe some for the next few days. But you guys did good getting her here so fast.” He patted Sam on the arm as he walked past, leaving the 3 of you alone.

“How you feeling, kiddo?” Dean approached your bed and you giggled.

“I’m great Dean, I could fight A HUNDRED MONSTERS,” you shouted and Dean put his finger to his lips.

“That’s great sweetheart but you need to keep your voice down so we can all go home!” His eyes were bright in feigned excitement and you nodded at him.

“Where’s Sam?” you asked, looking at Dean intensely, forgetting you’d just seen him 30 seconds ago.

“He’s right here.” Sam stepped up on the other side of your bed and let his fingers stroke through your hair.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Dean mumbled, quickly leaving.

“Does it hurt?” Sam whispered, his knuckles moving down the side of your face and you moved into his touch.

You shook your head, “nahhhh,” a content smile on your lips.

“I was so worried,” he sat on the edge of your bed, a hand resting on yours as it laid on the sheet that covered you.

“Don’t be worried man, I’m soooo gooooooood right now….” You gave him a wide smile. “I’m glad you’re here, I love that you’re here, I love your face, I love you.” You stuck your bottom lip out dramatically as you felt tears welling in your eyes. Why were you so emotional?

Sam let a smile break out on his lips, “I hope you remember this tomorrow because I love you too.”

Tag: @stephymarie2012 , @ruuuuuskimychica , @jxackles , @busybee612 , @jazminwinchester @tardis-is-mine @kbl1313, @a-sea-of-fandoms, @cuffski, @feelmyroarrrr @pureawesomeness001 @georginator-3000

#sam x reader #hurt!reader #sam winchester #supernatural fan fiction #sam winchester x reader #reader insert #samxreader #1k celebration #request #sam fluff #fluff #angst #injury

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