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sun-summoning · 4 years ago

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part ii | part iii | part iv

after speaking to kido, sakura rushes home. when she calms down from the rage that nearly had her crush his throat, sakura can admit that she doesn’t really think this is him. he knew a lot about her for someone that was supposed to have been locked up all this time, but he seemed genuinely surprised to hear that sarada had been taken, if not disappointed. he fit the profile of what shikamaru and kakashi thought -- that someone wanted sarada for her eyes -- but sakura can’t stop the nagging feeling that somehow this runs deeper.

back in her apartment, megumi’s body is right where she left it, and sakura feels awful for having moved so mechanically. megumi was an orphan, but she was still someone’s little girl. ashamed, sakura lays a sheet over her and swears she’ll do more later.

she heads to her bedroom and begins her work. alone, she summons one of the cats she’d made a contract with shortly after her marriage. the black cat is sleek and holds himself confidently. he’s always been an efficient one, quick to do as she needs and be competent about it. he regards sakura with a cock of his head.

“sarada’s been taken.”

“your daughter.”

“yes.”

the cat nods. “i shall inform the clowder. if anyone spots her, i will let you know.”

“thank you.” sakura pauses, self-conscious for needing to rely on everybody else for this part. “if you...if any of you are able to come into contact with sasuke-kun, can you pease let him know too?”

“of course.”

“thank you.” sakura promises to provide the usual exchange at a later time and the cat disappears with a puff of smoke. she heads to her bedroom and she begins to pack in silence.

her movements are as meticulous as they are automatic, done just so she’s ready to leave the moment she knows where she needs to go. her medkit is stocked. her bag has scrolls, weapons, supplies, and sarada’s favourite toy. she changes out of her days clothes and into the leggings and turtleneck of a uniform she hasn’t worn in years. her cloak is in the front closet. she needs to change her boots. she’ll put on the boots now. she leaves the armour on her bed to don later. right now, they only hinder her movements. she goes to the drawer where her mask hides in plain sight among other trinkets and knick knacks, and on the dresser she notices a flower.

sakura stills as she takes in the detail she must have missed in her earlier haste. she considers the simple glass vase and the single red flower sitting in it. its petals curl at the ends and some are even missing.

this flower has travelled and as sakura considers what it is, she knows it’s travelled far.

konoha became unbearable by the time she tuned twenty. it's so petty and selfish and she'd never say it aloud, but she hated seeing everyone else so happy. she's happy too -- has so many reasons to be -- but she couldn’t help the nagging jealousy she feels when ino declined her invitations because she was going to see sai or when naruto prioritized her almost always only to head home to hinata.

she wanted to be someone's too. she wanted to be their focus and heart and home, but sakura already knew who her someone was and knew that on some level she was his too, so all she needs to do right now is wait.

most of the time, sakura wasn’t bitter. being apart from him wasn't unfamiliar, nor the steadfastness, nor the hope that one day this will pay off one day, nor the self reminders that what she felt was irrelevant as long as sasuke knew and was comforted by the fact that she would always love him.

to suppress her frustrations rather than confront them, sakura worked. she worked tirelessly and relentlessly and by nineteen, they'd named her the greatest medical ninja konoha has ever seen for her accomplishments, ideas, and innovations.

this took her to suna at twenty and to ame at twenty-one to help establish their own clinics.

“i have a gift for you,” ino told her before she left.

sakura expected a ribbon or a piece of jewellery or that new book on poisons she mentioned she was interested in. instead, ino handed her a bag. its contents shift, imbalanced, and inside sakura finds a potted plant.

“a flower?”

“not just any flower, you ungrateful bitch.” ino pointed at her accusingly and then at the plant. its petals are a bright red with darker flecks at their base. “i made it.”

“you made it?”

“yes. you know me, interrogating and mind-reading by day, splicing plants together and making my own by night.”

“that’s sad.”

“fuck you. you’re sad.”

sakura laughed and ino laughed too but it got a bit sad because ino probably definitely knew that sakura was sad. “anyway,” ino continued, “we’ll call it the sakuino flower--”

“how creative.”

“--and i expect you to keep it alive through all of your travels.”

sakura frowned at ino, wondering if ino understood that a potted plant had no place in her travels, but ino didn’t seem to care. moreover, this particular thing didn’t seem to have the ability to survive in the desert climate she was going to be living in for the next six months.

when sakura expressed as much, ino waved the matter off. “deal with it,” she said, giving sakura one last hug. “you’re one of the brightest minds to come out of this village. you’ll figure something out.”

its common name is the fire poppy, having originated from the fire country but somehow managing to survive in the deserts of wind country as well. the flower is know for its vibrant red petals, eye-catching and jarring across the barren brown it’s normally found in. sakura had to play with the original plant’s physiology when she first moved to ensure it could survive the alternate climate. in her spare time, when she wasn’t working with the kids, she deigned to work with her plant, eventually working on cloning the original. at some point she’d given one to a nurse she worked with who much admired the first, and gaara asked if he could try planting them in his garden. from there, the spores began to spread.

“why the fire poppy?”

was this someone from suna?

sakura considers the obvious motivation of revenge, but who would even want that? there were people who didn’t appreciate her friendship with kankuro or any of his siblings. perhaps an apprentice of chiyo’s who blamed sakura for not saving her when she gave her life for gaara’s. worse, perhaps someone that once worked sasori who resented her for his demise. or maybe someone she, sadly, can’t even remember. a patient she lost during the war whose family hated her.

sakura truly cannot pinpoint a motivation for this, much less a person.

especially a person that would understand the meaning of this flower for her.

ino would never give her this flower. ino would have scoffed at it and created her own. sarada couldn’t have picked it today. and sasuke certainly couldn’t have left it for her.

someone was in her apartment. someone brought it here.

was it here before?

sakura considers the poppy and forces herself to keep calm. stay logical, she demands. stay smart. was the poppy there before? no, she thinks at first. she would have seen it. she’s certain she would have seen it.

but, she can accept, it’s possible she might have missed it. sarada was taken. her babysitter was murdered. it wouldn’t be surprising if sakura missed it. but sakura doesn’t miss things. right?

“don’t gaslight yourself,” she orders.

no, she knows. the flower was not there before, meaning in between her going to kakashi, going to the prison, and then running back home, whoever took her daughter came back.

or worse, there was a team involved and one was with her child and another came back for her.

sakura curses, wishing she’d put on her black ops armour earlier, because whoever brought the flower here is now making their presence known. she senses two people before she sees them and is unsurprised to find sudden flares of strength.

the bedroom is small and they’re in a building. she needs to take this outside, but where? there’s too much risk for others getting hurt in the crossfire. that’s why this was supposed to stay quiet. that’s why this will stay quiet.

they step out of the shadows and sakura assesses them quickly. one male, one female, both fairly young based on stature and development, maybe early twenties at the oldest. they’ll have agility on her, but they won’t have her experience.

the man holds a chokuto. good. an advantage. sakura is excellent at fighting against such a weapon. if they’re foolish enough to use her husband’s favourite sort of blade, perhaps they didn’t do enough research on her. perhaps they were hired? but if they were unprepared, then were they really here to kill her?

are they here to distract her?

that thought fills sakura with dread. is someone trying to keep her busy so she can’t get to sarada on time?

the woman shifts, one leg sliding to the side as she raises her hands. she holds no weapons, therefore she is the weapon. sakura knows all about that. she’ll need to be careful with this one. but she still has a holster on her thigh. it’s thinner that the usual styles. maybe a couple kunai, but more likely a set of sebon. this one is smart then. she’ll know precisely where she needs to hit sakura to stop her.

“haruno sakura,” the man greets with a short nod.

so it is her fault.

if this was about sasuke, about the uchiha, they would know her married name. this is about her, and for that sakura feels worse. her baby was taken and why? just to hurt sakura before killing her? sarada was who knows where with surely no one that could be good and all just to hurt sakura?

sakura snarls, furious in a way only a mother could be, and she feels the chakra pulsing around her fists.

“where is my daughter?”

their masks hide any expressions. they remain at ease in the face of her rage, shockingly unafraid of this woman that can level mountains.

good, sakura thinks. let them be brave. let them come at her like fools.

she runs through the bedroom door to get to the living room where there’s at least more space to maneuver. the man leaps and brings his blade down upon her, but sakura manages to shift to the side. careful to not be forced into a corner, she spins out of his range and into the open middle until the woman runs past her partner and takes sakura on hand-to-hand.

she matches sakura’s punches and kicks blow for blow. she’s good, sakura thinks nervously. and she’s fast. she’s small, maybe half a head shorter than sakura, so she puts her weight behind every quick jab. sakura gives most of her attention to the woman, but keeps a wary on eye on the man who sheathes his chokuto.

what as he planning?

it takes that one moment for the woman to catch her unaware.

sakura chokes on her breath as the woman thrusts a senbon into her shoulder. the shock from that slows her down enough so she can lodge in a second.

“shit,” sakura curses as she stumbles back. she rips the senbon out, but she feels her left arm begin to go numb from the struck pressure point. “what did you do--”

sakura’s eyes widen she she feels something foreign begin to course through her. she considers the senbon, dark with her blood and likely something else. there’s a metallic smell that isn’t from the weapon, and sakura knows she’s been poisoned.

however, her body doesn’t bother to fight it.

sakura watches her opponents, trying to understand how she’s been poisoned with something she’s immune to and just what poison this might be. she’s immune to everything in konoha’s own collection, as well as the ones she shares with shizune.

which poison is this?

does that matter?

sakura scowls at the two people involved in her daughter’s kidnapping and reminds herself that she can take them on one-handed just fine. she pulls her right hand into a fist and charges. the man is closest, so she lunges at him with a chakra-laden punch that sends him barreling into the wall.

she grabs the front of his shirt and as she pulls him forward, his mask falls away to reveal green eyes, cold and lifeless, and a black diamond under his left eye that makes her uneasy.

sakura stares at the man, confused, because she knows this face.

she knows him.

her fear and pain and worry makes it hard to focus, but knows him.

focus.

finally, it clicks.

“isao?”

she thinks she might have seen something like recognition in his eyes. that doesn’t long though. she left herself open, and his partner stabs her shoulder. sakura releases isao with a cry before the woman punches her in the back of the head and everything goes dark.

the sun is up when sakura begins to stir. she hears the birds chirping and people outside going about their days. but the buzz of the television is missing, as are the small thuds of sarada’s steps. where is sarada? sakura wonders hazily, lazily, not quite understanding yet.

where is sarada?

her eyes widen and she sits up so quickly her stomach rolls.

“careful.” tsunade comes into view, steadying sakura and checking her for any problems. “you’re still healing.”

she’s in her own bed. she’s not at the hospital. she got knocked out and the assassins got away. she should’ve done something to track them. dammit. was she so arrogant she didn’t have a failsafe in place for if she didn’t simply beat them? sakura punches the bed, earning a disapproving frown from shizune on her other side.

“there was poison in your system.”

“it was one of ours,” sakura admits warily.

“yes. there are very few people with access to those, much less this particular one.”

the one that the assassin used was meant to render a victim paralyzed but still able to feel. it was a dreadful thing, meant only for the worst of interrogations. or, more accurately, for torture. sakura concocted it in her darkest moments at fourteen under shizune’s watchful eye. since then, while they’ve both had small handfuls of keen students, they’ve probably shared poisons from their personal roster with only five people at most.

for this particular poison, sakura knows only two people they showed it to, and only one of those was a student of sakura’s.

“how did you find me?”

tsunade rolls her eyes. “shizune sent you off to a prison from kakashi’s office. i figured i’d have to check on you shortly after. and it’s a good thing i did, stupid girl.”

“thank you.”

“don’t thank me. i’m scolding on you.”

“did they find anything useful?”

“no one’s been able to contact your husband.”

“right.”

“and they’re still under the impression that this has to do with the uchiha blood.”

“they would be,” sakura mutters, too tired and in too good company to be anything but blunt.

shizune sighs. “do you know who came after you last night?” the flower is still where she left it on the dresser. shizune follows her gaze to the fire poppy, and all knowing with plants as well, shizune determines its origins. “how did that get here?”

“i think it was to taunt me.” sakura grimaces. “you were right.”

“about?”

“i think this is my fault.”

shizune’s eyes widen and quickly soften with sympathy. “none of this your fault,” she reminds sakura.

tsunade crosses her arms. “enemies of yours then?”

“no.” sakura looks sad. “people i once loved.”

tbc

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the-slasher-files · 4 years ago

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ANDREI KULOKOVA HEADCANONS

Clearly I cannot get this man out of my head.. like ever! Honestly I’ve been in a big big writing lull lately and I only want to write for Andrei, so I happy to share these hcs with you!.. hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

Andrei’s code names in the army were ‘The Wolf’ or 'North’

He has O negative blood type, meaning he is a universal donor. Andrei always (when he is wearing his vest) has IV tubing and needles, just in case.

On that topic, Andrei is very knowledgeable with medical information, he has saved many of his brothers in the army from death. He can save you, but the issue is if he cares to.

Yes he is a very hot bloodied man, but under pressure he is calm and cool, especially with his s/o. Feral rage can turn instantly off if he sees someone he loves really hurt, calmly giving orders and helping you.

Andrei never went to school after his mother died, at age 12. He may not be super educated in math or sciences but this man is smart. Never underestimate him. He can fix a truck, be your handy man around the house, and has amazing people skills.

He is a history buff.. Yup, you heard me. Andrei loves history, specifically war history. After his uncle died he was free to explore more education and he found a deep love in history, learning it all himself through reading, documentaries and listening to people around him. (Me and @horrorslashergirl have a weird AU where he is in college and works in a museum, in a suit with glasses 👀)

Andrei is trained in many things but one I don’t talk about often is bombs and specifically land mines. This guy loves to blow stuff up for fun and has a few land mines in specific places on his land, and abandoned town.

His favorite drinks are a deep earl grey (a Russian blend of course) and Vodka on the rocks.

He loves bath time.. yup a hot bath, even with bubbles he doesn’t care, he loves it.

One of my favorite things about Andrei is when he needs to think or stop his active mind, he goes into his field (usually shirtless) and just stands out there, closes his eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet.

Andrei HATES condescending and controlling people, it brings him back to when he was a kid or in the army. Now that may seem hypocritical but honestly it is not. Degradation is for sexy time and teasing only, and Andrei is only controlling with his playthings but even then he lets them decide and have a good amount of freedom.

Man is a furnace and doesn't feel cold what so ever

He loves action movies, even though he will comment on how unrealistic they are. Also he loves documentaries.

Andrei listens to all kind of music. Mainly rock or metal but he loves Russian new wave and some rap. He also had a HUGE punk phase so that occasionally comes on.

He will do any dare or bet, not even kidding. His army buddies stopped daring him to do stuff because he would just do it. Andrei is a big thrill seeker and will do so much stupid stuff.

He used to have a wolfdog, a brother to Amaria’s wolfdog Dyn. Unfortunately it had too high of a concentration of wolf in it and he had to let it go, but he does still see him every once and a while. He even named him Alexei, meaning “great defender” in Russian. Andrei always leaves one of the outbuildings open for him just incase the weather gets too cold or dangerous. Also he may or may not use him to get rid of bodies, if he sees him wandering around.

Andrei drives a 1995 Range Rover all black with giant snow tires, or his black old Russian truck.

He can ice skate and used to play hockey with his buddies

He is secretly loaded. Yes he has money in his walls and all over the town. Andrei knows what he is worth and his rates aren’t cheap, plus it’s all in cash so there is no paper trail. He is never one to flaunt his wealth, you probably won’t even know until you see him coming home from a mission with a duffle bag of cash, throwing it in under the floor boards.

Andrei had a secret male s/o in the army, it was his first male relationship but they had to hide it from everyone. In a dangerous feral state the wolf had killed him, that was his last undercover mission.

This guy can read people like no tomorrow, every tiny subtle thing you do he notices. Could be the way you bite your cheek if you’re nervous or the way you rub your hands together when excited. He knows.

Also Andrei is very good at manipulation but doesn’t use it often.

He is a terrible sleeper. Andrei wakes at every noise in the house and only gets about 5 hours a night but only 1 hour is actually deep sleep. Sometimes he gets so exhausted that his body gives out and he will sleep for 12 hours fully clothed, in his cargo pants, vest and jacket. However he is much better with an s/o to sleep with, it’s still bad though.

I say this a lot but Andrei has an incredibly active mind, and it’s hard for him to relax or ease up. He uses drinking and smoking as a way to calm down, also just walking into the field for peace.

His favorite food is a nice hardy warm stew with rabbit meat.

Andrei adores just holding his s/o in his arms as on the couch or in bed.

He is honestly kind of paranoid, not so much by himself but if he has a s/o. You can come with him to the nearest town, but never ever draw attention to yourself or him, for your safety. He has people after him.

The wolfs signature is ripping off someone’s jaw or ripping out their spine by gutting them and reaching in.

If you mess with him but he dubs you as not a worthy hunt or not a good kill, you might see a bear trap in your home the next morning.

His tattoo on his left palm 'NO GODS’ is something he got to remind himself that he has control of his life and take his fate into his own hands, not his paranoid controlling uncle. It also holds him accountable for his actions, there are no gods to blame, he did it. The tattoo connects to Amaria as well. She is a lil crazy and does kills for 'the gods’, but Andrei sees that as foolish, he does his kills for himself, nothing else.

The 'grateful for the hunt’ thing I often write in Andrei’s stories is what his uncle would always say to him, with people or animals. It’s burned into his brain and it will never leave him. The words remind him to breathe and take in every deadly detail, that Andrei loves so so much.

Alright time to get.. a little odd lol… me and some friends have an interesting thing going where Andrei has a 'wolf pack’.. Dallas (@slashersins oc) is his husband, not legally, but Dallas wears a wolf ring for him. Xaviera (@horrorslashergirl oc) is Andrei’s soul mate and girlfriend. Xaviera’s cousin Akshay is Andrei’s best friend, they fight constantly but have so so much fun.. plus they fuck when they’re drunk lol. I am Akshay’s 'snow queen’ aka girlfriend. Andrei also has 2 'playthings’ Bianca (@horrorslashergirl) and Sights (@thesightstoshowyou)… the house is too full and Andrei may or may not regret having all these people lol.

#my writing #andrei kulokova #slasher oc #oc #slashers #slasher x reader #slashers headcanons #hcs #horror

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

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Alliance

Chapter 2 – The Decision

(Mando x f!reader)

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Summary: The child taken, his ship destroyed the only one who can help him? A woman he sold into slavery several months earlier.

Notes: Wow wow wow! Thank all for the likes im glad ive gained some interest lets hope I can keep it! Comment or message to be added to the tagged list!

Tw: mentions of dubcon/sex, depictions of violence and coarse language

Tagged list: @crazycookiecrumbles

Word count: 3.7k

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7 months later

Mandos POV

Using all his wits and a touch of charm the Mandalorian had managed to make his way to a nearby town. Once there he’d likely be able to hitch a ride or win some kind of ship in a game of cards. He didn’t need a good one, just something to get him to Navarro. He makes his way to a more upscale bar, hoping its clients would be more lucrative with their belongings. Scanning the gambling hall he chooses his target carefully, opting for a rich looking idiot who had been trying to impress the man next to him since the Mandalorian had walked in. He takes his seat at the round wooden table amongst a variety of lavishly dressed characters. He had to find the child as soon as possible. If he wasn’t with the empire yet there’s no doubt he would be soon.

“Deal me in” He says, taking a seat between an Iktotchi and an Ortolan.

“Not so fast, what's your buy in?” the dealer asks.

“How about that helmet?” The Ortolan pipes up.

“No.”

“The creature then?” the Falleen across the table ponders reaching out to touch Anya, who had been at his side when Grogu was taken and has refused to leave it since.

“No” he says, batting her hand away and tapping on his shoulder piece “Will this do?” The dealer nods and they begin. In the second hand he ends up winning a ship from his target who was seemingly unbothered by the loss as he nonchalantly tosses Mando the keys, before leaving the table.

Twirling the key on his index finger he makes his way to the bar, hoping to gain some insight on how to go about finding Grogu.

“Quite a game, didn’t know Mandalorians played cards.” The older humanoid bartender stated, shining off a glass. With no response he speaks up again. “Can I help you with something , give me something to tell the kids if I helped out a Mandalorian.”

“If someone was looking to find something lost where would he go?”

“You have any idea what this thing is?”

“Yes.”

“Any idea where it is?”

“No.”

“Tell you what, there was a woman, from a forest planet somewhere on the outer rim. Hair as white as snow, an old language on her body, a face that’s hard to forget. She helped me find my youngest after she was taken by smugglers.”

“Vryssa?” The Mandalorian says slowly, causing Anya to perk up.

“Aye that’s the place. You’ve been?” the barkeep ponders.

“Thank you, here” he says handing over a portion of the credits won in his game of cards to the speechless keeper.

Exiting the bar shaking his head in disbelief, of course the one person who could help him track the kid was someone with a personal vendetta against him. At least he knew who he had to find and where to start looking. Opening the doors to his new ship he gives it a quick once over. It was roomier than the razor crest, but not by much, too fancy for his liking in all honesty. Nicer amenities though and a decent sized bed which Anya had made her way onto, it would be a better place for when he gets the kid back. It had an armoury, but nothing in it, at least not yet. He closes it and makes his way up to the ship's cockpit. Decent enough system, more of a flashy ride than a functional one, made for a decently skilled pilot by the looks of it. Locking in the coordinates for Coruscant he begins his search.

For two weeks he attends black markets around the galaxy until one day he sees him, the man who had bought you. He follows him cornering him in a nearby alleyway.

“What do you want Mando?” The Kel Dor responds.

“I’m looking for a woman.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“She was bought by you a few months ago. Not jogging your memory? White hair, eternal blood.”

“Oh. Her difficult one, had to break her in a bit.” The choice of words was less than favourable to the Mandalorian, but in favor of time he brushed by it.

“What happened to her?”

“ Sold her.”

“ To who?” He says getting impatient

“Gladiatorial ring on Geonosis , she was a big hit, sold her for twice what I had paid, moved into the big arenas quickly. I’ll take you if you want.”

“No, give me the coordinates.” Mando says

“Should be easy enough for you to get her. She's been broken in well, nice and obedient if you know…” He knocks the guy out before he can finish the sentence.

R-16, Geonosis, Outer Rim Territories

Stepping out of the ship it doesn’t take long for him to figure out where you are. Large projections of posters with you line the street, apparently you were fighting today. The sounds of the arena increase as he gets closer, as does the crowd of people awaiting the show.

“A Mandalorian, you here to see the fight? Gonna be a good one. Fan favourite tonight the huntress.” A native geonosian exclaims.

“Is she the girl in the picture? The white haired one?”

“ Yes, and if you like what you see I’m sure a piece of that armour will get you a night with her, I’ve heard the trainer sells her off after fights.” The Mandalorian nods and heads off “How much for a ticket” he ask the seller,

“100 credits”

“For a fight?”

“For today’s fight? Yes.” Begrudgingly he pays the fee and enters into the dome. It is enormous, the revenue it brings in must be astronomical he thinks as he takes his seat.

Your POV

It hadn’t been an easy few months, but you were still alive. The handlers knew if they bled you all at once the value would decrease, and after having you fight and win over the fans, keeping you alive became more economically sound than killing you. Your most recent trainer, an older Duras named San Korliks, had gotten you into a slightly more dubious but very lucrative business. Turns out the rich love nothing more than spending the night with a victor. Between the fights and the suitors you’d have enough saved to live comfortably once you were out. Yes you were close to buying your freedom, 12 fights and a few more rich idiots and you’d be out of here. You’d find a planet with plenty of sand and water and settle down living out the rest of your days in peace. You could hear the crowd cheering from your cell, San would be here for you shortly. You stand up smoothing out the red tunic that had seen better days. It was shorter than you’d like and impractical for fighting, but your handler was right sex sells and it had kept you alive thus far. You move to the drawer of the cell, though tightly watched it was decently large and relatively comfortable. More wins meant better quarters. You pull out the gold plated armour clipping the chest plate, arm bands and shin guards into place before lacing up your worn down brown leather boots. Moving over to the small mirror you dip your hand into a bowl of burgundy paint smearing it down your face and onto your neck then around your well defined biceps. You're admiring your work when you hear a knock on your cell door.

“C’mon darling let’s give them a show” San says, he was nicer than your previous trainers, probably as you were bringing in the big bucks. You walk over to the cell door, he opens it and guides you to the enormous door that would soon open up to the arena.

“Try to let a little blood get spilled tonight, we need to sell some.” You nod, cracking your neck and stretching out your arms. “I also have some suitors lined up, high payers.”

“How many more till I’m out?” you question.

“ Just a few more darling, promise.” He says squeezing your shoulder. You hear the crowd chanting in the background as San leaves. You grab the spear left out for you, tossing it from hand to hand to gage its weight. You bounce up and down on your toes shaking out your body and calming your mind and preparing for whatever they were planning on throwing at you tonight. You repeat the number of days until you're free in your head. You could do this, you’d done it a hundred times now. Not that the killing gets any easier, but in order to survive you had to forgo morality. The doors open and the crowd erupts in applause as you enter waving to the adoring fans.

Mando’s POV

The loud speaker blares out over the crowd “ Tonight a special event, the huntress will take on not one, not two, but four opponents! Now to make it a fair fight, only one will be allowed to challenge at a time, but we have a lovely admixture of beasts and an extra special surprise for you all. The return of another fan favorite. Hang onto your seats folks, this is going to be a night you won’t soon forget” Four versus one, Mando thinks, as he watches you enter the arena, the odds definitely weren’t in your favour. He was prepared to jump in and get you out himself if he had too, you were his only chance at finding the kid after all. He hears a rumble of applause as a door across from you opens revealing a Rancor. He watches you closely, noticing how unphased you seemed by it. In no less than a minute he sees the spear fly from your hand hitting the creature right in its jugular killing it instantly. Not bad, he thinks, but it was just a Rangor, yes they were big, but they weren’t known for being strategic fighters. You pull the spear out of its neck, the crowd cheers seemingly alerting you to the presence of the Nexu that had appeared from the door behind you. It leaps towards you and he watches intently as you tuck and roll out of the way, spear still in hand, thrilling the crowd even more.

He wonders how much of the fight is a performance and how much of it was real. You and the Nexu circle each other, seeing you plant your feet he finds himself curious as to what your next move will be. You kick the dirt up causing the creature to charge again, as it leaps you take a knee lifting the top of the spear up, slicing the creature open causing its guts to fall down on you earning more zealous applause from the arena. He sees you stand up lifting your arms to get the crowd chanting, more showmanship. “What can you tell me about her?” he asks the couple sitting next to him. “Never lost a fight, and she’s beautiful, you need anything else?” They reply. He sees you wiping the creature's guts off your face when a door opens and a Terentatek appears, where the hell did they find one of those things the Mandalorian thinks. He sees your shoulders deflate, more so in annoyance, than fear based on the look on your face. It’s obvious you weren’t expecting a creature so large. After a few dodges and spear swipes the creature has you cornered, he sees you look side to side searching for an out, but there isn’t one, at least none he can see. Its mouth descends on you, seemingly engulfing you whole. The crowd is silent, it’s only then he notices he’s out of his seat. When had that happened? A glimmer suddenly appears from the creature's head as it gets brighter; he sees the spear had sliced through the Terentateks thick hide. The creature collapses and the skin on its head separates as you appear victorious. He sits back down observing you closely as you walk back towards the door from whence you came. The announcer's voice starts up again.

“Now for an extras special treat we’ve brought a fan favourite out of retirement, the demon slayer!” Just then the door opens and a Deveronian in head to toe black armour emerges wasting no time in launching his attack. He throws a dagger which catches you in the arm, the crowd erupts, the sight of your blood enticing them. He watches you intently as you bend over retrieving the knife off the floor and tossing it to the audience. Your opponent’s armour was thick, with very few openings in it. The crowd was getting excited, noticing that you had lost the spear to the Deveronian who had thrown it behind him.

You were the more skilled fighter, but the demon slayer was larger and stronger. He watches you try to make a pass. He thinks you’re in the clear but the opponent grabs you by the hair pulling you back into him as he brandishes another knife bringing it up to your throat. You bite down on his hand giving you just enough time to wrestle the knife from him no doubt slicing your hands open in the process. He doubts that this part of the fight was showmanship, both you and your competitor were evenly matched. It was anyone’s game. Your stunt had given you enough time to retrieve your spear. Just as he thinks you’ve gotten the upper hand he sees a mace extend out from one of the slayer’s sleeves, it sparks with electricity. If it so much as hit you, that would be it. The Mandalorian can feel his heart pounding finding himself wrapped up in the atmosphere of the arena as the creature approaches you swinging the mace. It wraps around your spear, the crowd is silent, they think it's all over, but looking at a nearby screen Mando makes out what appears to be a small smile on your face.

The mace wraps the spear and you pull back on it, hard, drawing the Deveronian in closer. As the electricity hits your arm you release the force from the pulling causing the spear to plunge up in-between the opening between the Devaronians chest plate and helmet killing him instantly. He sees you drop to your knees catching the falling opponent whispering something before laying him down on the floor. The crowd erupts in cheers, flowers and money are thrown to the ground, before picking it up he sees you circle back to each opponent kneeling on the ground for a few seconds before rising and moving on to the next.

“C’mon Mando” the people beside him say “blood auctions this way”. He follows them, but half the auditorium seemingly had the same idea and he was too far back to reach you. He sees you standing with your trainer as the blood spilled during the fight was sold to the highest bidder, the crowd intermittently grabbing at you. You’re quickly shuffled out the room. The Mandalorian exits through a back door, as he does he sees your trainer speaking to a Sephi. He hangs back, close enough to hear the conversation, but far enough away so as not to be noticed.

“Room 801. She’ll be ready for you in a half hour.”

“Perfect, makers, where will I go when she’s free? No one has ever compared to her” the client laughs.

“She’s not leaving, at least not for a while. Far too good for business at the moment. Hope’s what keeps her keen though. I oblige in her fantasies, so she can oblige yours ” The Duro gives the man the key and heads back into the arena. The man exits the alley bumping into the Mandalorian.

“Watch it Mando.” The Sephi says, pushing by him. As he pushes by, Mando snatches the key and makes his way up to room 801.

Your POV

“Hey San, how'd the rest of the auction go?” you ask, wiping off as much slime as you could in the small sink. “Good. I’ve put your cut in the bank for when you’re out. We have a client room 801, penthouse, he knows you apparently.”

“Half the galaxy knows me” you murmur “Do we have to tonight?” you ask, wanting to get out of your gear and go to sleep.

“C’mon he’s rich and not bad looking.”

“Fine” you sigh, not like you had a choice anyways. He chains your hands together and leads you up to the penthouse suite, at least you’d get to sleep in a large bed, maybe get a shower with decent water pressure. He unchains you and ushers you into the room, closing and locking the door behind you. You rub your wrists and crack you back stretching out your arms, you hear a cough. Weird, you think, clients were usually brought up after you’d had time to settle in. “I'm sorry I wasn’t expecting...” you say in your sweetest voice turning around. The tone is quickly dropped. The client was none other than the very person who had landed you in this situation.

“YOU” you shout, not thinking twice before charging at him, slipping a knife out from one of your arm bands and lunging for the Mandalorians neck. He grabs your wrists before they can make contact with him, bending them back causing you to drop the knife on the floor. He tries to restrain you causing you to panic accidentally using the force to throw him back against the wall. He crashed into the wall landing on the floor with a soft thud probably wondering what the hell’s just hit him. His hands quickly shoot up in the air, as you pick up the knife again pointing it at him.

“If you think for one second I’m going to sleep with you, you have another thing coming you stupid tin can, you’re lucky ...” you start but he cuts you off

“That’s not why I’m here.” He says quickly.

“ What?” you say, lowering your knife, but not your guard.

“ I’m here for your help.”

“ YOU want MY help? Makers you’re funny, you know I didn’t know Mandalorians could tell jokes.” you say sitting down on the bed across from him as he cautiously stands up, hands still in the air.

“I’m here to get you out” He offers.

“Why? what do you want from me?” you question

“Your help, the child he was taken I...” he pauses, you feel the sadness emanating off him, but you hold the knife true. “I need to find him before the others do, they’ll kill him.”

“Well should have thought about that before you lost him.” you say snarkily. Standing up you make your way to the door.

“Please, I can get you out of here.” He starts, you turn on your heel.

“Newsflash, I’m making my own way out of here just…”

“ ...a few more fights” he finishes for you. you look at him confused. “There never letting you out of here I heard your trainer he’s not letting you go. Something about being too good for business.” Was he telling you the truth? With the helmet covering his face it was hard to tell. From what your grandmother had told you, Mandalorians rarely lied, and deep down something was telling you to trust him.

“Bastard” you mutter moving away from the door. “Well i'll find my own way out.”

“Please” he says, taking a step towards you, causing you to lift the knife up again. “You wasted your money coming here, leave.”

“I didn’t pay”

“What?” you respond and he looks over to you . “You’re not the client?”

“No” he says dryly, as if the answer was obvious. The tension is cut by a sudden knock at the door.

“Shit, you have to hide” you say dropping the knife and pushing the Mandalorian in the direction of the bed.

“Where should I hide behind a curtain?” he deadpans

“I am not in the mood for jokes right now, get under the bed” you say lifting up the bed skirt.

“No”

“Yes” you say pointing ferociously under the bed.

“No”

“Fine, but you have to go somewhere or we're both screwed.” You say turning around to get the door. As you open it you start “look I can explain.”

“ Explain what?” The Sephi asks, pushing past you taking a seat on the bed. “You’re performance out there was almost as enticing as you” you turn back to close the door looking around the room in an attempt to locate the beskar clad man. “We’ve met before, remember?” he asked, as if you would.

“Hard to forget such a lovely night.” You lie, sitting down next to him realizing you were going to have to talk your way out of this one. “Listen, tonight’s been rough, and I want to be at my peak performance for you, we can reschedule for another night” you say stroking his cheek. The Sephi grabs your wrist, harshly. “ No, I paid for it now so I’ll get it now” . Just then you hear a blaster go off and the guy drops. The Mandalorian appears from behind the curtain

“Seriously.” you say, “I was going to deal with him”

“And I wasn’t going to sit and watch it happen,” he responds re-holstering the blaster.

“They’ll use this to keep me here forever” you say, more sad than angry.

“They were doing that anyway” the modulated voice says. “Come with me” he says reaching his arm out, “now or never”.

Standing up, you push past his hand and walk over to the dead client laying on the floor. Kneeling down you rummage around for his wallet before throwing it to the Mandalorian.

“Let’s get out of here” you say

“Here” he says, taking off his cape and offering it to you. You wrap it around yourself.

“I look like a goddamn Jawa” you say, making note of how long it looks on you.

“Come on before your handaler comes back” he says. The two of you make a swift exit, creeping through the back alleys until you reach his newly acquired ship.

#the mandolarian #mando x you #mando x reader #din dijarin x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #din dijarin x reader #Star Wars #star wars #Alliance #Chapter 2

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sarah-writes-marvel · 4 years ago

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After-Party Showdown: MCU Cast x Fem!Reader (platonic)

S.S.” Ive literally had this fic finsihed since like Febuary so its a little rough but let me know how you like it!

Warnings: Blood, predetor male (Sorry to anyone named Eric... im sure your very kind), rudness..., sexual talk (kinda)

Word Count:1,710

MASTERLIST

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We had finished watching the premiere of the newest Avenger movie and the set, cast and a few selected friends returned to the reserved reception room at the hotel that many were staying at.

RDJ, Tom Holland, Hiddelston and Gwenth were talking with a few friends of theirs and some of the set members. Chris Evans, Hemsworth, Elizabeth and Scarlett were also in their own separate group that was somewhat merged with Sebastian, Anthony, Don and Paul.

I was new blood to the crew, and although I was immediately accepted by the cast, I watched them mingle from the bar.

Eventually people began to disperse, mainly people that worked the cameras and the background actions. Basically leaving the actors and actresses and their few friends they brought with.

I continued to sit at the bar talking with various people that came to refill drinks, even had a lovely conversation with the bartender, who seemed slightly star stucken. Nearing the end of the night a charming gentleman came to my side and struck up a conversation with me as we sipped away at our drinks.

“Hello beautiful. I’ve got to say you’re way too pretty to be over here on your own.” he said with a pearly white smile.

“Oh well thank you.” I blushed at his compliment.

“So why aren’t you mingling with everyone? I've seen you sitting over here all night.” he replied, studying my face.

“I’m more of a people watcher. Introverted and all that jazz.” I reply taking a sip of my drink looking at the cast laughing and talking.

“Alright I can understand that. Do you want to be less introverted and hang out with me?” He replied with a sly tone in his voice.

“Well you sitting next to me talking aren’t you?” I stated. “In my book that’s considered hanging out.”

“Well I meant more along the lines of a nice walk and maybe heading back to my place.” His statement was blunt and outgoing.

“Oh well, I appreciate the invitation but I have to decline.” I replied as kindly as possible.

“Oh come on sweetheart. Why not?” His voice whined.

“First I don’t know your name. Second, I'm not a one night stand kinda girl, I'm assuming that’s what you had in mind.” I looked at him pointedly and annoyed.

“I’m sure I could change your mind. I’m Eric. It’s wonderful to meet you.” He held his hand out and finally introduced himself.

“I wish you would’ve led with your name.”

“Duly noted.” he retracted his hand before he kept talking. “So what’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Very hot.” his comment caused me to roll my eyes just slightly.

“If you are going to try and complement my clothes off you should stop now.”

“Why? Because it’s going to work.” He leaned in, the brandy apparent on his breath, his hand sneaking around my waist.

“No,it won’t work. I would also appreciate you not touching me.” I said scooting a few inches away.

“Oh come on. You know you want to have a good time.”

“I was having a good time.” Even I could recognize the annoyance in my voice. I continued to watch my friends talk amongst themselves, saying goodbye to others.

“I can make it so much better though. I mean the dress is just begging to come off. It would be a great addition to my floor.”

“Excuse me?” I set my drink down on the bar, standing up and crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Oh please. You wore that so you could get compliments didn’t you?” His eyes looked at the dress that hung on my body. It was a decently modest midnight blue dress. It hugged my waist, the skirt ended just above the knee, it even had long sleeves. The only suggestive thing about it was the vneck and the open back.

“Yes. Compliments. That was not a compliment. That was a shitty way to try and pick up someone.” I replied.

“Oh please. You should be happy that I asked you.” His face turned to anger almost as if he was annoyed.

“I’m perfectly happy turning down your request. I hope that you have a good night.” I turned heading towards the group to leave behind the creep at the bar but a hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me back.

“What the hell do you think you are doing.” My voice was stern yet quiet doing my best not to create a scene.

“I’m going to ask again until you say yes.” he’s hand tightened around my wrist.

“Let go of my wrist.” I demanded a little louder wishing that the bartender hadn’t left to retrieve more ice and alcohol.

“Not till you say yes.” He seethed. I tugged against the resistance on my wrist trying to pull away. “Quit being such a bitch and take the compliment that I actually want to sleep with you.” His voice was hot against my neck when he leaned in to whisper that into my ear. I snapped.

I twisted my arm causing his hand to turn with it allowing me to break free, gripping his wrist pulling him from his seat wrapping his hand behind his back and shoving his face into the bar. Suddenly all eyes are on the interaction.

“First of all, I don’t need to feel grateful for you telling me that I look beautiful, I’ve heard it many times, and that my clothes would look better on your floor.” I let go of my hold, Evans and RDJ approached the two of us. Eric stood up, raising his hand, almost in an attempt to hit me.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Evans said before Eric moved.

“Don't tell me what to do with my girlfriend.We we’re just having a nice conversation.” Eric smirked, his hand placed on my waist.

“Seriously. You seriously just did that?” RDJ laughed.

“What? Did you come to save her or something?”

“Oh no. We aren’t saving her. She can easily take you on her own. We’re just suggesting that you don’t do that because it’ll come with an asswhopping from a young woman in heels and many lawsuits.” RDJ started with a smug tone.

“There is no way in hell that she'll be able to take me. Plus I've got amazing lawyers.” Eric spat back with a smirk.

“Oh ya, no. You really don’t want to challenge her.” Hemsworth commented. Eric looked at him with anger in his eyes. I picked up my glass from the counter, taking a sip and holding onto it so I wouldn’t punch his face.

“Whatever.” he turned towards me. “Good luck ever getting laid with your attitude.You’re nothing without a man's approval you know. Even had to have these people come to your rescue.”

His voice was quiet and annoyed trying to dig under my skin. And it did a little bit, but it just fueled my anger toward him. I looked at him and the glass shattered in my hand as I tightened my grip. The glass fell to my feet the remaining liquid splashing onto my dress and onto his outfit.

“You can go.” I even scared myself with the tone of my voice as I spoke. The look of fear in the man's eyes gave me a sense of pleasure that I put him in his place. He pushed his way through the group that had surrounded us and rushed through the exit.

“Well then. What a dick.” I started watching the door close. My hand was still in a fist and I held my other hand underneath, feeling the blood from the cuts drip into a puddle in my palm.

Everyone looked at me shocked.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to involve anybody. Is everyone ok?” I looked at the astonished faces of my friends.

“Are you seriously asking if we're ok?” RDJ questioned.

“Well ya.” I shrugged my shoulders looking at everyone who all seemed very concerned.

“You just crushed a glass with your bare hand. You are bleeding. We should be asking you that!” He exclaimed.

“Oh ya. I’m fine. I really hate guys like that though.” I looked down at my dripping hand and turned around to face the bar. I reached behind grabbing one of the clean white towels, dipping it into the cup of water that I had at the spot I was sitting. I began cleaning the affected wounds when Evans took over.

“You know I knew that you could take Hemsworth and I but I never knew you could do this! You gotta be careful. Someone might think you've got some super soldier serum flowing in your blood.” He smiled as he wiped away the blood and examined the cut in the center of my palm for glass. “Alright this may hurt just a bit.” He began tightly wrapping the cloth around my hand, tucking the end into itself.

“You should go to a doctor to get that properly taken care of.” Scarlett added.

“That's a good idea.” I agreed, standing from the seat that I had been pushed down on. “Well I had a great night with y’all! I hope I didn't ruin it with that little fiasco.” I smiled grabbing my clutch from the bar and walking through the group.

“Well where the hell are you going?” RDJ questioned.

“The hospital to get stitches, you know like Scar suggested.” I was confused at his question.

“Well someone’s gotta go with ya.” Evans stated.

“Ya. We’ll go with you. The night is still young!” RDJ exclaimed standing up and meeting me.

“You don't all have to come, it'll just be a couple of stitches.” I laughed.

“Too late I called the limo already. We're taking a trip to the hospital!” RDJ celebrated. Soon the rest of the crew was chiming in on a “To the hospital” chant as we made our way out the door, earning confused and concerned looks from the staff of the hotel.

To say the hospital staff was surprised to see the cast of the marvel movies enter the emergency was an understatement, but I was glad to have the best people around me, even if it was for a few stitches.

---------------------------

Like I said it was one of the first fics I had written a while ago... But I hope you liked it! thanks for reading!

#mcu #mcucast #chrisevans #rdj #scarlettjohanson #chrishemsworth #avengers #captianamerica #ironman #thor #marvel #marvelfanfic #readerinsert

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mavrisfanfics · 4 years ago

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[Requests] Preferences - Assassin’s with drunk s/o

Ask: by @lunavadash-creates I’m sorry it took so long!

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed

Words: 1043

Warnings: Heavy drinking references

Notes: Happy blog Anniversary!

Ok, so I didn’t do Shay because I haven’t played Rogue yet (Doesn’t stop me from doing Jacob). In fact, I haven’t played an AC game in years because college and life and stuff. The little time to play I’ve had has been spent in other games, which is why I don’t write for any character beyond AC IV except Jacob

Either way! I hope you enjoy the ones I did write!

Requests and small talk are welcome!

---___---___---___---___---___---___---

Altair

Altair will be amused at first, but progressively get more annoyed and/or embarrassed at your antics. The more he drinks, the less annoyed he gets, but this man knows when to stop, so don’t expect to ever see him wasted. He will definitely think of your unhinged laugh as cute, due to how honest it is, but he won’t find it so funny when he’s the one who practically drags you home.

At this point, he may complain at how annoying you are being, but he would never even think of letting you walk by yourself, afraid you might get hurt. In fact, he’s one of the guys who you can trust the most to take care of you when drunk, because, even if he gets annoyed, he still cares about you and will do anything to make sure you’re safe.

However, do expect him to comment on your behavior the next morning, and God forbid you do something stupid, because he will remind you of it every other time for years to come.

Ezio

If he’s sober, Ezio will chuckle at you and drag you home safely at the end of the night, but this is Ezio we’re talking about, so I bet my money he’s going to be as wasted as you. He’ll find your laugh absolutely hilarious, which results in a couple of drunks laughing at each other until their bellies hurt or one of them pukes, whichever comes first.

If you expect to drink freely and have someone take care of you at the end of the night, Ezio is the worst partner to do that with, and chances are you either have to be the one to take care of him, even if you can barely function, or you’ll have to pray to have a third party to take care of you both, otherwise you won’t make it home.

And although hangovers are never fun, they are a great excuse to have a lazy day together the following morning, so expect lots of cuddles once morning comes.

Connor

Connor is built like a tank, so I doubt this man gets drunk easily. But either sober or tipsy, his reaction doesn’t change, he’ll fondly watch you laugh any day, whether because you’re drunk or not. In fact, his personality doesn’t change at all when drunk, and it’s very hard to see when he’s had a few too many. He will mostly let you do your thing, but he will always watch you like an hawk, hovering near you in case he has to step in and stop you from doing something dangerous or drive away any creeps that may come your way.

Definitely the best guardian when you’re drunk, because unlike Altair, Connor is patient and won’t complain at all, no matter at how loud you may be. If you have difficulty walking, this man won’t make you lean on him, instead he’ll totally carry you himself. This is the only time when you can notice if he’s actually drunk or not, because he may stumble a little too much carrying you home.

10/10 I’d go out and drink with him with no worries.

Haytham

When you get drunk, Haytham will be amused at your antics, but won’t let them get too far. You can laugh all you want, in fact he’ll love it (not that he’ll admit it), but the moment you try to do something more embarrassing, you’re being taken home. And good luck getting him anywhere beyond tipsy, this man knows how to drink, and he definitely knows when to stop. Because of that, unless you explicitly state you want to get wasted, we will stop you before you get to such a state, saving you from possible embarrassment, and from a migraine the following morning.

Edward

I’m sosEdward is the best drinking partner you can get. For starters, that man has built up an insane tolerance at this point, which doesn’t stop him from getting drunk either way, because, while Haytham know how to drink to not get drunk, Edward knows the best ways to get wasted. Then there’s also the fact he’s a pirate, drunk sailors and messy taverns are his things, so dealing with drunk people is a skill of his by now as well. Unlike when dealing with others, though, he’ll have a special tact when it come to you.

He’ll love seeing you have so much fun with yourself and will even join in on it. However, just like Connor, he will be ready to step in and stop you from doing something overly stupid or protect you if needed, even when he’s pissed drunk too. He just has such an overprotective instinct when it come to you that no alcohol can wash it away, which I guess it’s expected from a man who has lost everything at some point.

By the end of the night, he might have sobered up just enough to get you home safe (damn his trained alcohol tolerance), or he might be just as drunk has you and still be able to help you stumble home. All in all, you can be assured that you will have fun and be home safe at the end of the night.

Jacob

Whatever alcohol tolerance Edward forced into the family genes has definitely skipped Jacob because he cannot hold his alcohol. One glass? Fine. Two glasses? Pissed drunk. However, he’ll require about 10 glasses to actually pass out. Basically, he somehow goes from sober to drunk, skipping over the tipsy part completely.

But whether he is drunk or not, he will find your laugh both adorable and hilarious. He will laugh at your antics non-stop and may, sadly, suggest you do some of the stupid shit you will regret for the rest of your life. If he’s drunk too, he’ll be the one to do the embarrassing things and then drag you with it.

Basically, just like Ezio, he’ll join you in your drunk antics but, unlike Ezio, he’ll actually make them worse. Fortunately, he has an entire gang under his command, which means there will always be someone nearby to drag you two home.

Expect to be reminded of everything the following morning because he’s one of those drunk people that remember everything.

#altair x reader #ezio x reader #connor kenway x reader #haytham kenway x reader #edward kenway x reader #jacob frye x reader #altair ibn-la'ahad #ezio auditore #connor kenway #haytham kenway #edward kenway #jacob frye #assassin's creed x reader #Assassin's Creed #reader #reader insert #request #requests are open

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 4 years ago

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Emergency! Part 5

Part 5 – Rattlesnake

Summary: A rollover crash has multiple squads responding to rescue, clean up and investigate the cause. During clean up Dean is bitten by a rattlesnake. An earthquake strikes, being the largest L.A has ever experienced since the 90’s. And the reader, was out shopping when it happened, trapping her under debris. Jack’s father is at Rampart for an operation, staff, and squad 51 learn of how toxic of a Father Lucifer is.

Warnings: Scary Situations, Suspense, implied Smut, Fluff, Brief toxic parent angst, long one full of suspense and action!

Word Count: 4,233

Square: Girls Night (There is a girls night in here, and I’m using it to fill my square for @supernatural-jackles Tell me a story bingo)

Bingo Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: this takes place a year or so after Virus. This story is going to be a long one.

“Would it be a miracle that people were actually careful and safe?” Gabe says, walking into the stations kitchen.

“One could only dream.” Cas says.

“Who’s turn is it for making lunch?”

“It’s either the father or the son.” Michael says.

“It’s my turn for lunch nimrod.” Dean says, playfully getting Gabe in playful chock hold while rubbing his knocks on his head.

Gabe struggles to get out of the Winchester’s grip.

Dean let go with little protest.

“He’s the one that did the father and son crack.” Gabe whined.

“Yeah but Dean knows not to mess with me.”

“You are just as bad as Sam with the pranks.”

“How is little bro by the way?” Gabe asks.

“He’s good, won his first case at a firm downtown. Can’t remember the name of it. And he and Jess are actually getting married by the end of this year.”

“Oh it’s about time that kid popped the question.” Michael says.

“Yeah, he and Jess are coming down for Thanksgiving, they’ll meet Y/N…”

“Have you ever met Y/N’s family yet?”

“She doesn’t talk about her family much. I don’t push her if she’s not comfortable with it.”

The stations alarm goes off.

“Station 51, rollover accident…” The dispatcher giving the location as the station jumped into action.

They got to the location, on the winding dirt road in the mountains outside of LA. Seeing the car that rolled over the guard rail and down the slope.

“What do we got?” John asked the other station that responded.

The captain wearing a big white 20 on his helmet.

“Rollover, driver’s unconscious and we don’t know his condition.”

“I’ll send my paramedics on it.”

Dean and Cas getting their supplies and rushing to the car.

They recorded his vitals on their notepads.

“Cas go relay it to Rampart, I’ll stay here with him.”

“Got it.”

“Rampart squad 51. Rampart this is squad five one.”

Bobby happened to be by the radio.

“Go ahead 51.”

“Rampart, we have a rollover accident, the victim is trapped in the car. Vitals are, BP 120 over 79, pulse rate 78. Pupils dilated and sluggish.”

“Can you get the victim out without using the jaws?”

“Negative Rampart, driver side door is jammed.”

“Then start an IV, just have some normal saline to keep him hydrated. Can’t risk a head injury going unnoticed. Follow protocol, and we’ll be waiting for you.”

“10-4 Rampart.”

A little over a half hour passed and they managed to get the victim out of the car and in an ambulance and is on the way to the hospital.

Cas and Dean were packing up the squad.

“Shit, forgot the drug box by the car, I’ll be right back.” Dean says.

“’kay.”

Dean jogged down the hill to the car to pick up the drug box when he heard a rattle.

His heart sank.

Where was it?

It wasn’t until he saw the danger noodle jump at the moment he picked up the drug box, biting down on his arm. Then latching on.

Dean managed to calmly grab the snake by the head, forcing it’s mouth open. Getting it to release him and he threw the snake far.

He grabbed his radio.

“Station 51, it’s Dean. I just got bit by a rattlesnake.”

He quickly worked his belt off his waist to make himself a tourniquet.

“Gabe, Kevin, get down there now!” John ordered.

They hurried down the hill to Dean’s aid.

Earlier that day…

“Alright that’s the last of them.” Y/N says to herself as she got all settled in Dean’s house.

They had just recently took things to the next level and she has moved in with him. She was off work taking the time to finish settling in. But Dean’s 24 hour shift just started, so Dean was away at work, saving people.

“Now, a girls night…er, day.” She says, knowing who to call to hang out with for the day.

She pulls out her phone, calling up a few girls she knows and knows they’re off.

“Hey Donna, you up for a girls night?”

“Oh hell ya girlfriend, who’s all gonna be there?”

“Well, you, me, Rowena the overnight RN, Jody. I want to invite Charlie, a friend of Dean’s but I think she’s working.”

“Girl, I can’t wait! You want me to meet you at your place or Dean’s?”

“I just finished moving in with Dean, I’m at Dean’s. You can meet me at Dean’s.” She explained.

“Oh, ho-ho-ho, girl, we need to catch up!”

The girl was full of energy and Y/N could feel it through the phone.

“Yes we do, see you here in a few, and I’ll call the others.” She says, hanging up.

The doorbell rang hours later calling the girls. She opens the door.

“Hi!” Donna cheers, holding two cases of beer.

“You know how to party, Charlie’s off today she’s on her way with some wine as well.” Y/N says letting her in. Closing the door behind her.

“Oh, I like her already.”

“Jody got caught up with a Drunk Driver and won’t make it. But Rowena is coming so it’s just us four.”

“Still a good girls night, so what else are we doing tonight?”

“Probably catch up a bit, binge some Netflix shows. The Witcher season 2 is coming out soon and I want to rewatch that.”

“Oh, Geralt can hunt me down any day.”

“You do realize the man is hundreds of years old?”

“Yeah, but Henry Cavil isn’t.” she winks.

Y/N rolls her eyes with a giggle.

The doorbell rang shortly after revealing Rowena. And moments later, Charlie.

“You two are so going to get married.” Donna says, downing her second bottle of beer.

“He really is, really sweet, kind and the perfect kind of guy for me. He knows my schedule. And I know his. We both were scared the hours of our work would mess things up. But with how many times the man gets hurt on the job while I’m working I am always assuming he’s purposely getting hurt just so he can see me at work.”

Charlie giggling. “I see that being a thing he does.”

Rowena sipping away at the red wine Charlie brought.

“Ro, how are things with you girl?” Y/N asked.

“Oh, you know. Saving people, taking names…”

“She’s in love.” Donna deadpans.

Rowena rolls her eyes with a smirk.

Y/N gasps. “What’s his name?”

“His name is Arthur Ketch, he the neurologist up on Fourth Floor. He works under Singer.”

“Oh I know of him, I mean, Bobby is planning on retiring and isn’t Ketch supposed to take his place?”

Rowena nods with a hum. Still having a playful smirk on her face.

“Oh you are so in love with him.” Y/N says with a smile.

“He may have taken me out on a date a few days ago and we have another date tomorrow night.”

“Ro, I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you sweetie, and I’m happy for you and Dean, don’t let that one go darling.”

“I don’t see that happening, just as long he stays safe on a job. I’m worried of him getting seriously hurt on the job. I mean that virus a year ago, that really scared me. I thought I was gonna lose him.”

The girls nod, understanding.

“Anyone up for some hot guys and monsters!” Donna says, entering the room with a glass generously full of red wine.

“Girl, you’re gonna regret the headache the next day.”

“I’m off work tomorrow, so if I get a migraine I’m good!” she says chuckling.

The girls rolling their eyes at their friend.

“Rowena, would you be able to drive her home?”

“Yes, she’s at least on the way home for me.”

“Thank you, last thing I want is to give poor Jody another drunk to worry about.”

“At least I’m the fun kind of drunk.” Donna says, getting the Witcher on Y/N’s TV screen.

“Ro, drive safe!”

“Will do sweetie, have a good rest of your night!” Rowena says, escorting a silly drunk Donna to her car.

“I’ll drive her car home tomorrow.” Y/N offers.

“Will do darling, goodnight!”

“Night!”

“Y/N that was the most fun I’ve had, never thought of you to be the nerdy type.”

“Oh, I’m a nerd in disguise if anything.” Y/N winks.

“Ugh, why are you straight!”

“Not sure.”

Y/N’s pocket happens to vibrate at that moment.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?” Hearing Dr. Kline’s voice on the other end.

“What’s up Jack?”

“It’s Dean, he’s been bit by a rattlesnake, he’s on his way in on the top of Engine 51.”

“I’m on my way.” Y/N says, not hesitating grabbing her keys to her car. Hanging up the phone quickly from him.

“I’m going with you sweetie.” Charlie says, following y/n to her car.

Turning the keys she turns on her emergency flashers and speeds her way to Rampart hospital.

“Engine 51, what are the patients vitals?” Jack asks.

Dean, takes his own pulse, his own blood pressure. All while Cas drove the squad ahead of the engine.

“Pulse rate, 95. O2 Sat, 98, Respiration 18, BP 120 over 65.”

“Dispatch relay to Engine 51 to start IV using Ringers Lactate.” Jack asks.

“Engine 51, Rampart advises start IV using Ringers Lactate.”

“10-4” Gabe says over the radio.

Dean having heard the radio begins the process to start an IV.

“There goes Engine 51!” Charlie shouts, while Y/N sat at the red light. Seeing the engine tear through the intersection.

Her light happened to turn green for her.

“Hold on.” Y/N says. As she starts pressing on the gas pedal slowly pushing it to the floor. Her tires squealing.

Gabe looked up hearing tires. Looking over the edge, he sees a familiar car.

“Oh shit, his girl is right behind us.” He says.

Dean chuckled. “And I’m the worry wort.”

“Engine 51, Rampart is requesting an update.”

“Relay to Rampart, patient is starting to experience numbness around the mouth, and he’s drowsy.” Dean says on the radio.

“Engine 51 you’re breaking up, please repeat.”

John grabbed the radio.

“Relay to Rampart, Patient is started to experience numbness around the mouth and he’s drowsy.”

“Roger that.” Dispatch says.

“Venom sounded like it hit a vein.” Jack says.

“Y/N’s gonna be so worried.” Meg says. Standing next to Bobby and Jack at the nurses station.

The squad, the engine pulled into the emergency entrance. Y/N pulled into the parking lot near the emergency entrance, finding a spot quickly. She quickly parked it, turned off the car. Jumping out, locking the car. Charlie staying close to her.

Meg stayed by the door, waiting for Y/N and Charlie.

“How’s he doing so far?” Y/N asked.

“We started a skin test with the antivenom. Hopefully he doesn’t have a reaction, that way we can start treatment right away.” Jack says.

“How long do we have to wait?” Y/N asked.

“20 Minutes.”

Y/N and the rest of the members of station 51 nodded, understanding.

“Let’s go wait guys.” Charlie suggested.

Everyone left the room, trying to keep their hopes high despite their shoulders slumped.

As the night came to a close, and he didn’t have a reaction to the antivenom skin test and he has been laying, sound asleep in his room as the antivenom worked it’s magic on him.

Y/N laid in his bed with him, curled into his side. Her head on his chest, listening to the calming rhythm of Dean’s heartbeat.

Dean began to stir awake, feeling a warmth at his side. Waking up a bit more he sees his favorite girl in his life laying at his side.

His arm came up around her, holding her close. Placing a loving sweet kiss atop her head as he fell back asleep, letting the rest and medicine work it’s magic on him.

The next day…

Y/N arrived on time to the hospital to pick up Dean, filling out his discharge papers another patient was being brought in.

“Who’s that?” Dean asks.

“Jack’s dad, he never talks about him.”

“Why is that?”

Jack happened behind them.

“I was adopted, he gave me up when I was, like 5.”

“Jackie, son how are you?” the man asks from the bed.

“You don’t call me son.”

“Since when can a father—”

“You may be my father by blood. But not a true father.”

“What did you expect me to hold your hand? Kiss your booboo’s when you got hurt like some sort of pansy?”

“Oh now I see why.” Dean mutters in Y/N’s ear.

“How long is he gonna be here anyway?” Jack asks the medics that brought him in.

“His cardiologist what’s him to have a pacemaker in today. So he’s gonna be here for a bit.”

Jack groans under his breath.

“I’ll hand him over to someone else?”

“Why do you suck ass?” His father asks.

“Okay, listen here dude.” Y/N steps in.

“Y/N, please—” Jack says.

“No, you can either treat the staff of Rampart emergency with respect or we can and will kick you out for your hostility.” She says.

He shrunk in his bed.

“Will you be on your best behavior or will I have to send you to a different hospital?” she asks.

“I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Good. And if I hear your antagonizing him, or any more of our staff we will transfer you. And you won’t be welcome here again.”

“Understood.”

“Good.” She says, storming out of the hospital.

“Don’t piss her off, can anyone remind of that?” Dean asks jokingly as he follows her out.

Later on that day…

“Dean, babe, I’m gonna go do some arrands really quick.”

“Alright be safe sweetheart.”

She goes to the living room, where he sat watching Netflix, giving him a quick kiss on his lips. But Dean quickly places a hand on her cheek deepening the kiss. Clearly wanting more.

“Babe, maybe tonight. But I need to head out to stay ahead of traffic.”

“Fine, drive safe baby.”

“Always do!”

“Says the crazy girlfriend chasing a fire engine!”

“I’m not that crazy!” She laughed.

Dean chuckled as he heard her laugh, closing the door behind her.

She pushed her cart around Target getting not only food, but some cute lingerie for that night. Even grabbing Dean something from Spencer’s for them to try in bed later.

She felt the ground tremble slightly. The hairs on her arms stood up on end.

“No not now.” She mutters.

Without warning, the ground shook violently, taking her and other shoppers to the floor. The power going out, items being thrown on the floor. The lights swinging wildly, ceiling tiles falling. They were having a bad earthquake. And she was smacked in the middle of LA, in a multilevel mall.

Meanwhile Dean back at home had just turned off the oven having cooked himself some pizza for lunch after noticing Y/N having ate already.

He heart he windows vibrate, feeling the ground tremble slightly. He stood in the kitchen still yet alert.

When the ground gave way again to another violent shake, but only enough to cause their dishes to fall off the countertop, the cupboard doors swinging open and closed. The TV rocking back and forth on the stand. Dean dived to the table to get under it, and wait it out.

Meanwhile back at Target, screaming shoppers can be heard throughout more than just Target.

Once the shaking had calmed down, she knew they had to get out immediately.

She quickly pulled out her phone. Seeing the alert had gone off.

An 7.5 earthquake.

“How big was that?” someone asks.

“I don’t know but that was big!” someone else shouts.

“My phone says 7.5, it was big enough.” Y/N shouts.

“Oh god, we’re dead!”

“Okay, Okay, don’t panic, we just have to get out of here before the aftershocks kick in.” Y/N suggests.

“Where can we go, we’re on the top floor!”

“At one part of the mall this is the ground floor, we just have to find another one of the exits. Avoid the escalators, we have to get out before the floor collapses on us.” She explains.

“I’m with her.”

“Oh my god! Someone help me!”

Bring on the victims. She thought.

“I’m a nurse, what’s wrong!” Y/N shouts.

“It’s my husband, he’s bleeding!”

She ran to the panicked woman.

“Where at?” she asks.

“His leg, a shard of glass from the wine cut him.”

She examines his leg.

“Do you have a belt sir?”

He nods.

“Let’s get it off of you and make a tourniquet.” She says.

Y/N helps him get his belt off and works on tying it above the cut on his leg. Not too tight but tight enough.

“Okay, do you got him?” she asks the man’s wife.

“Yes, but where---”

“I came in from the ground level entrance, it’s a ways north, we just go this way.” She pointed out.

“You make it sound so easy, how are you so calm?”

“I’m an emergency nurse at Rampart.”

“You’re so amazing, thank you, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, now lets get out of here.”

“Alright everyone, you can follow me, the ground level entrance is this way.” Y/N shouts.

And she began leading the herd.

“Do you hear that?” Someone asked in the Food quart.

“Oh shit, they didn’t turn off the gas.” Y/N muttered.

“GET AWAY FROM THE FOOD QUART!” She shouts.

Just as the people ran in a panic out of the doors near the food quart leading to one of the parking lots out on the ground level, an explosion of fire broke out in a couple of the restaurants in the food quart.

“We’re dead!” a number of people shouted.

“We’ll get out of this, just stay calm and follow me!” Y/N encouraged. As she and everyone behind her, around her, all shielded themselves from the fire.

Dean, in his car sped his way to station 51.

“It’s all hands on deck, there’s fires everywhere.” John says as Dean entered the station.

“Y/N’s at the mall.”

“Which one?”

“The one off of Center Pointe.”

“Shit, that’s one of our calls. Get suited up, and lets go.”

As the alarm goes off in the station, Dean hurries to the squad, grabbing his fireman’s bottoms and coat.

“I got your boots and mine, lets go!” Cas says, getting in the passenger.

Dean not wasting anytime, turns on the squad and follows the engine out of the station, speeding towards the shopping center.

“Are we there yet?” a little girl asks.

“Almost there sweetheart, we just have to---”

“Wait!” someone pulls Y/N back.

Y/N grabbing the man’s arm noticing a drop.

“The floor caved in…shit, that’s what I was worried about.”

“Oh, now what!?”

She looked around, finding another way through the store down below.

“Look there’s an exit down there.”

“But it leads to the underground parking.”

“Still it’s a way out, just wait here then, there’s an incline here, I’ll just climb down and see how far the exit is from the underground parking.” Y/N says, determined to get these people out and out alive.

Sliding down the concrete ramp, she jogs through the store, climbing through a fissure in the wall, seeing the garage not perfect but from where she was there was a path closest to the building leading out to daylight.

She hurries back to the scared people.

“There’s a straightforward path outside from here, come on, if we hurry---”

The ground began to shake, throwing her off balance.

“Oh no it’s an aftershock!” someone shouted.

The engine managed to get to the shopping mall, seeing a fire in one section. Coming to a stop they can feel the aftershocks.

“Shit, we have to hurry, Dean, Cas, find a way in. Kevin, Michael, find us some water!” John ordered.

Dean taking the squad closer to the building, scoping out a way in.

“We could try there.” Cas suggested.

“It doesn’t look too structurally sound Cas.”

“It’s holding up so far.”

“True. Okay, but lets find a plan B.”

“And C.”

“And D.”

“I hear sirens!” Someone shouted.

“Come on, the opening is still here!” Y/N shouted.

“Go on baby, mommy and daddy are right behind you.” A pair of parent said to the small girl.

She slid down the concrete ramp, looking scared and timid but Y/N stood by close until her parents met up with her.

“Okay, keep it going, we’re almost out of here!” Y/N encouraged.

It seemed to be going smoothly, everyone was starting to rush down the ram and running outside, frantically.

“Dean look!” Cas shouted as Dean made a loop around the Mall.

“That’s a good sign, okay, let’s help them.” Dean says, bring the squad to a stop.

“Engine 51, this is squad 51, Cap, there’s an couple of entrances above ground that are stable, but we found one by the underground parking, a large number of survivors are coming out.”

“Copy that.” John says.

“Anyone hurt!” Cas asked as he got out.

A number of people saying their fine, scared. A select few coming forward with injuries of cuts.

“Good job miss on making that tourniquet.” Dean commented.

“Oh, I didn’t do that, a nice lady, a nurse from Rampart did it.”

Dean’s heart dropped. Y/N was in there.

“Did you see her?” Dean asked. Unable to hide the panic look in his face.

“We ran right past her, she led us out that way.”

“Atta girl, Cas you got them?” Dean asked.

“I got them, go.” Cas says as he attends to the couple.

Dean got to the opening and he could see a familiar figure in the dark dusty parking lot.

“Y/N!”

“Dean!” she shouts, turning to find him in the opening.

People still trinkling out. Dean helping them out the best he could.

“You hurt!”

“No, I’m fine, just help them!”

What started as a light tremble got slightly stronger, another aftershock.

“Oh fuck, Y/N hurry up!” Dean shouted.

Y/N hurried the people out. And just as she was making her way to Dean she heard a puppy barking. Stopping her dead in her tracks. She began to search for it.

A puppy scurried out from under a car with a limp, barking fearfully.

“It’s okay baby, I got you.” She says, hurrying to the scared puppy. Looking at it’s paw. Seeing a shard of glass in one of it’s paw pads.

“Poor thing, I got you.” She says.

She heard a crack in the concrete. All of a sudden the ceiling looking closer and feeling a lot closer. She fell on her rear, the ceiling seemed like it didn’t want to stop.

No. she prayed.

The after shock stopping just as soon as it started, the ceiling stopped.

“Y/N! Please say something!”

“I’m okay!” she shouts.

The concrete already sounding unstable, she hurries, crawling on all fours with the puppy in her hand, she even brings her feet into the crawling.

Like a domino effect, the ceiling begins to collapse.

A little girl stopped by one of the cars, scared, crying. Not stopping, she grabs the girl by the arm, and continues to crawl.

“Run guys, run!” Dean chants.

“Keep going sweetie, keep running!” Y/N tells the little girl.

The girl being the first out, dives into Dean’s arms.

“I gotchu sweetheart!” Dean tells her.

Y/N making a dive out, landing on her back with the pupping in her chest as the parking lot collapses behind her in a cloud of dust.

Y/N got up, still holding the puppy, trembling in her arms, licking her graciously on her neck. As if it was thanking her for saving her.

Dean stood by the squad, consoling the child, sees Y/N walking with a puppy in her arms. Panting from the adrenaline. Hurries to her, engulfs her in his arms.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine.”

“You go to Target and you come back with a puppy.” He smirks.

“I couldn’t resist, he was cute!” Y/N giggles.

“So far, everyone’s okay, in one piece, little girl’s back with her parents.” Dean informs her.

“That’s good.”

“Is it me or does danger just seem to find us?”

“Something.”

The next day…

“Come here Tremor!” Y/N coaxes.

The Basset Hound Puppy running over, his ears flopping in the wind. Making Y/N giggle.

“Good boy!”

“I’m home!” Dean shouts from the house.

“Go get daddy boy!” she encourages. The puppy making a mad dash for Dean. Only to trip on his ears in the run. Earning a laugh from Dean and Y/N.

“It’s okay buddy, I gotchya!” Dean says, meeting the puppy halfway, and picking him up.

The puppy showering Dean in licks.

“Been good for mommy.”

“Still working on potty training, he peed in the house, that’s why I opened it up.”

“Eh, it’s a learning progress for the little dude.”

“Yeah, so, how was work today?”

“Oh, same old. Rescued a cat from a tree, saved a heart attack victim. The usual.” Dean jokes.

Y/N giggling. Giving him a kiss on the lips. Only for him to deepen it, the puppy getting jealous and licking both of them.

“Okay, Tremor, we get it.” Dean goes.

“And I owe someone some sexy fun time tonight.” Y/N says playfully as she heads back inside.

“Yes you do.” Dean says. Following her at her heels.

A/N: How did you like it? I’m so glad my block is gone and I was able to cook this up. Let me know how you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated! :3

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @jayankles, @jeaniespiehs20, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @flamencodiva, @megzdoodle, @lyarr24, @akshi8278, @anotherspnfanfic

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 4/6/2021

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owlsinathens · 3 years ago

Text

A Ghost at the Wall, Part IV

@theon-appreciation

The days seem to get colder, and darker, and still there’s nothing happening, no decision made, nothing to do, and it’s making Theon restless. He spends too much time in his own head, has too much time to think. What will happen to him? Is Jon just biding his time, waiting for an order from Stannis Baratheon to get rid of the turncloak? The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch doesn’t have to obey any king, but if Theon were in Jon’s shoes…

He’s taken out of his musings by a knock on the door, and Jon lets himself in before waiting for an answer. His face is grave, and Theon’s heart starts to beat faster. It’ll happen now. He suppresses the urge to close his eyes and pray, pray with all his might that it’s the noose or the sword that is waiting for him. He could bear anything – anything but being sent back to Ramsay. Even the red priestess’ flames would be a relief over that.

“Davos has come to see me,” Jon starts. He’s looking at Ghost, stretched out on the floor in front of Theon’s narrow bunk. “He brought news.”

Just spit it out already, Theon wants to say, but he holds his tongue.

“The girl – Jeyne Poole–”

“What,” Theon says, sitting upright, suddenly highly alert. “What of her?”

“She seems to be on the mend,” Jon says. “The princess Shireen isn’t leaving her side, Davos says.”

“Oh.”

The relief is strong, and Theon feels his shoulders sagging, tears pricking at his eyes. So it hadn’t been for naught. Even if they execute him today, it wouldn't have been for naught. Jeyne will live.

“Can I see her?” he asks, dragging his sleeve across his eyes.

“Maybe not yet.” Jon isn’t looking at him. “Stannis – I don’t think Queen Selyse would like that.”

“Of course,” Theon mumbles, hanging his head. Of course they wouldn’t want the turncloak in their camp. “I understand.”

“You saved her,” Jon says, and for once his voice sounds gentle. “You could’ve died, but you did it anyway. Are you…?”

“No, not like – I had to,” Theon mutters, still weak with relief. “I couldn’t leave her there. The things he did to her–”

“To the both of you.” Jon crouches down, burying his hand in Ghost’s fur. “I’ve talked to Sam. He thinks he can help you. Do something about – about your teeth. Make it easier to eat. You’re still – you’re too thin. It’s only going to get colder.”

Theon closes his mouth with a snap, confusion taking over. Why would they do that? Why would they try to mend him only to kill him later? His hand wanders to his neck on its own accord.

“You used to be a remarkable archer,” Jon continues, as if he’s been following Theon’s thoughts. “Your skills are going to be needed when the Long Night comes. It would be a shame to waste that.” He briefly glances upward. “And I don’t want to kill you.”

The last part sounds a lot like Jon back then, like the boy Theon had known, defiant and cross. So it’s true then, Theon thinks. Stannis has ordered his death. And Jon refused.

“It’s alright,” he says, surprising himself. “It’s not as if I could – those skills belonged to a different man. He doesn’t exist anymore.”

He looks down on his hands, uselessly lying in his lap.

“I don’t believe that.”

“I haven’t touched a bow in years. It’s–”

Theon sighs at the stubborn expression on Jon’s face. He won’t believe it, not until he sees for himself. So, tentatively, Theon starts to take his gloves off, first one then the other. He hates the sight of his hands, mangled and disfigured, but Jon needs to see.

“This is what I’m left with,” Theon mutters. “I couldn’t – it’s no use.”

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t want to see the disgust on Jon’s face. He can feel his eyes on him, burning his skin, and Theon suppresses the urge to hide his hands again.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d let that stop you.”

Theon’s head snaps up at Jon’s words; he stares at him, incredulous. Jon stares back petulantly, his bottom lip sticking out.

“See that?” he says, lifting his right hand and pulling his glove off with his teeth. “I didn’t let it hinder me.”

Theon blinks, staring at the burn scars covering Jon’s hand. Is he really – does he actually think–

“What the fuck, Snow,” he says, too baffled to remember he’s talking to the Lord Commander. “Are you seriously comparing this little thing to missing several fingers?”

“It’s my sword hand,” Jon says, frowning. “And if I remember correctly you were right-handed too?”

“Aye, but–”

“Then I don’t know why you think you couldn’t do it. You still got all the fingers required to nook an arrow.”

“But – but – drowned fuck.” Theon stares at him, unable to comprehend so much idiocy. “I don’t have the strength, Jon! I couldn’t even draw the string back far enough to–”

“Get stronger then.” Jon shrugs. “You certainly won’t when all you do is hide away in here.”

“I…” Theon feels himself deflating, the indignation leaving him. “I can’t.”

“You could at least try. If there’s one thing I learned, it’s that men – humans – can withstand a lot. You already proved that, didn’t you? You saved the girl. You survived.”

“What the fuck do you know about surviving,” Theon mutters before he can stop himself.

“Ah?” Jon snorts, bending forward and pointing to the scar running across his face. “See that? A warg’s hawk almost took my eye out!”

“So what?” Slowly but surely Theon starts to feel angry. “I had my fucking fingers cut off!”

“A girl from the Free Folk shot me full of arrows!”

“Can’t have been too good then, can she?” Theon smirks. “She failed to kill you.”

“She was the second-best archer I’ve known,” Jon retorts, scowling. “She didn’t want to kill me, but I still almost died.”

“Oh?” Theon starts to feel hot in the small room. The whole situation is utterly ridiculous, but somehow he can’t stop himself. “Do you know how many toes I have left, Snow? Six. Six.”

“Don’t tempt me, Greyjoy, I can win this.”

Jon’s eyes are glittering in the light of the fire, his mouth forming a tight smile as he gets to his feet. His right hand, still ungloved, moves to his chest, stopping above his heart.

“Are you – this isn’t a competition!”

Theon frowns, too bewildered to think straight. There’s something about the whole conversation… it stirs something in Theon, memories of times long gone, and it’s as if a door opens in his mind.

You’ll never have my skills with a bow, bastard.

Aye, but the moment we take up swords I’m going to send you into the dirt!

We’ll see about that. At least I don’t collapse after a single glass of wine!

Oh? Well, good for you, but Robb still likes me best!

And then…

Guys, can’t you stop it? I swear I’m going to like none of you anymore if you keep it up like that.

“As if you could ever best me, Snow,” Theon says. His eyes are stinging, but he can’t help the smile. “I’ll beat you anyway.”

Jon’s answering smile is brilliant.

“I see we finally understand each other,” he says. “No more excuses, Greyjoy. From tomorrow, I expect you to earn your food. At least give it a try.” He hesitates, already turning to go. “Even if you couldn’t do it yourself anymore, you could always teach others. But I think you’ll be fine.”

The door closes, and Theon’s still smiling. “What do you think?” he asks the wolf before him on the floor. “Do you think I should give it a try?”

Ghost yawns, turning onto his back and presenting his belly to Theon’s attention.

“Maybe you’re both right,” Theon mutters, burying his hands in Ghost’s fur. “Though it’s a sad thing, to live in a world where Jon Snow is right about something.”

Part I • Part II • Part III

#a week of theon #awot #theon greyjoy #greysnow #snowjoy #jon snow #my writing #my awkward edits #long post #longest yet the next will be shorter again

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farfromsugafanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Innocence

Genre: Mafia AU, Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader

Warnings: violence, guns/gun violence, cursing, violence against women, home invasion

Synopsis: When you end up getting caught in the crossfire, you’re brought to the local mafia leader who promises to rehabilitate you. Although, falling in love you certainly wasn’t part of the plan.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Shit, she's bleeding out," someone said from a few feet away.

"What? Who?"

"I don't know some random lady."

You moaned in pain as a pair of boots approached you and eventually, you could make out the fuzzy face of someone crouching over you. You couldn't tell where the pain was coming from, only that you felt it rippling through your body

"Fuck, Namjoon doesn't like when innocent people get hurt. We've gotta take her back with us."

"What? Isn't that just part of it? Innocent people get caught up in this shit all the time."

"Not the way Namjoon does it, come on, come grab her legs."

As one of the men looped his arms underneath your armpits, you felt one final jolt of pain that felt like it was ripping your body apart before everything went black.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Is she going to live?" one of the men who'd brought you back asked.

"Yes, barely," Namjoon said, his face firm and his voice steadier than normal. "You're sure it wasn't one of your bullets?"

"All of our bullets were accounted for, sir."

Namjoon nodded. "If I find out either of you are lying, you know the consequences?"

Both men nodded in understanding.

The doctor emerged from the room where you were. "She's waking up, sir. I'll leave the rest to you. Call me if she starts showing any concerning signs."

Namjoon nodded and waved the doctor off and entered your room.

If it weren't for the drab gray appearance of the room, it would've looked like you were in a normal hospital room. An IV in your arm and white sheets pulled up to your chin. Your eyes were still closed, but your heart monitor was beginning to slowly pick up from it's near flat line when you'd arrived.

He pulled a stool from the corner of the room and sat next to your watching as your chest moved slowly up and down. The doctor had extracted the bullet and cleaned the blood from your skin and clothes. Your bloody jeans and sweatshirt had been washed and were folded on a table in the corner of the room. Your hair was still dirty, but the blood washed from its tips.

You looked younger than when he'd first seen you and it only made his chest ache. He had no idea who you were or what you had been doing in that part of town, but you certainly didn't deserve the bullet in your shoulder. It had nearly missed your collarbone and the important blood vessels, but you'd still lost enough blood to be anemic.

Your eyelids began to flutter and Namjoon sat still as he met them.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You opened your eyes and were immediately met with a pair of unfamiliar brown ones.

"Hello," the man said. He sat with his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped together.

Other than the fact that you had no idea who the man was, the more concerning thing was that you had no idea where you were and you were seemingly alone with him. If you had to take a guess, the room almost seemed like a storage room of some sort; a cement floor and shelves lining all but two of the walls. They were mostly empty except for vague medical supplies.

"Where am I?" you asked, the beep of your heart monitor beginning to quicken.

"You're safe." The man sat up straighter, but his eyes never left you. "I'm Kim Namjoon. What's your name?"

You eyed him suspiciously. "Y/N."

"Just Y/N," he asked, his eyebrow arching.

"For now."

He chuckled before getting up and heading for a sink in the corner of the room. He filled a glass and walked back over to you with a pill in his hand.

"Take this," he said, placing the pill in your palm and holding the glass above you for when you were ready. You stared at him for a moment before glancing down at the pill. It looked normal and based upon the fact that this man was most likely the one responsible for saving your life, he would have no reason to kill you now, right? "It's an iron supplement. Cause you lost so much blood. You'll have to take them every day for a couple months."

You nodded and placed the pill in your mouth and swallowed it down. There was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you could trust Namjoon, at least that he wouldn't kill you.

"Now, I need you to tell me everything you remember from the night you were shot."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You were on your way home after work. You'd just graduated and started in an entry-level position at your dream company, but it left you exhausted and overworked. It was already nearly 11 and you knew you should've allowed your co-worker to drive you home, but you didn't know him well enough yet to trust him with where you lived.

You normally felt fairly safe walking through the city by yourself. You'd grown up there and you knew the areas to avoid, but you were tired and decided to take a short cut through a rougher neighborhood.

You took out your headphones and increased your pace so that you were walking faster than your normal pace, but wouldn't look too scared or suspicious.

For the first ten minutes, everything was normal, but as you neared the end of the neighborhood and the beginning of yours, you heard yelling. You looked around and couldn't find a source, so you kept walking and as you crossed an alleyway, a man ran into you, knocking off your feet.

You sat up, your vision a little blurry and your head still coming off its daze. As your vision came back, you stood up and braced yourself against the wall. That's when you looked up and the shot came. You couldn't see who shot you, if they meant to, or if it was just an accident. Heck, you couldn't even tell which direction the bullet came from.

You fell to your knees and eventually on your back. At first, the pain was unbearable, you felt the blood pouring out of your shoulder, although couldn't tell if it was from the back or front. But, eventually, the pain ceased and your eyelids began to feel heavy. It was soon after the man lifted you that a final burst of pain caused everything to go black.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"You don't know who shot you?" he asked. The darkness in his eyes as he asked the question caused the pain in your shoulder to flare.

You shook your head. "It happened too fast."

He nodded, before getting up and leaving the room without another word. You then only saw strangers as they came to give you meals or check your wound which still had a long way to heal.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Morning," Namjoon said, in the exact same cadence he said it every morning. He laid a tray over your lap which had a spinach and cheese omelet, toast, and a rotating menu of meats. Today was two slices of bacon. And, of course, on the side was a pair of iron supplements.

"Think you can eat it all today?" he asked. While you needed the nutrients, you had basically no appetite most of the time, but today, the toast was spread with a red jam it usually wasn't, which made you bite into it immediately. Raspberries. Your favorite. "Why don't you tell me about your job today?"

He pulled a chair to your bed and flipped it around and sat on it backward, allowing his arms to dangle off the top. The two of you had promised to tell each other something about each other each day. You knew it was a way to get information out of you and monitor your well being, but you didn't really mind. It started to become one of your favorite parts of the day.

"I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."

He stiffened at that. You had your suspicions that Namjoon's job was less than legal considering how you ended up meeting him. You just weren't sure exactly what it was he did. Was he some sort of drug lord? A gang member? A pimp? Your stomach turned at the possibilities.

"Okay," he said. "You just have to promise that you won't be scared of me."

"O-okay."

He nodded, although you knew he caught the shaking in your voice. "You first."

"I—uh—I work for a non-profit that benefits women who have been victims of violence," you said. "I help process all the donations and make sure all the finances match up. I was an accounting major in college, but I didn't really feel like doing other people's taxes for the rest of my life. I want to feel like I'm making some sort of difference. Even though I don't make as much money, I feel like it's worth it."

"You are," he said. "You are making a difference."

Silence filled the room for a few moments, but it wasn't awkward or tense, it was simply you and Namjoon in your own thoughts. His eyes locked on you and your eyes unconsciously noticed the dimples on his cheeks that appeared and disappeared as he talked.

"All right, you promised," you said. "Your turn."

Namjoon's posture straightened and he cleared his throat. "Oh, well, I'm sort of the leader of the local mafia. I mean, it's not quite as nefarious as it seems. It's mostly just money laundering and stuff like that."

"But, you still kill people?"

"I never have. My men do only when necessary."

You gulped and pulled your eyes away from him. "Then, why did you save me?"

"Because I don't like innocent people getting hurt."

"How did this happen? How did you become the leader? You--you just don't seem like the type."

"My family," he said. "They kind of started this whole thing. I went to college and everything, but ultimately, I didn't know how to be anything else."

"You know you could always leave it behind. You're the leader. You could end all of this."

"It's not that easy. If I end it, I immediately become a target or someone would start it back up. And, let's just say, you don't want this kind of operation falling into the wrong hands. Many wouldn't have batted an eye at you getting shot."

"Don't think you're the hero here. Whether or not it was your men who shot me, whether or not you chose to save me, I still got shot because of you."

Namjoon's jaw stiffened and he crossed his arms over his chest. "You're right, I'm sorry," he said. "Although, it's not quite as easy to just leave."

"What did you study in college?"

"Huh?" He paused. "Literature and Writing."

You smiled. "Why don't you read to me?" you asked. "I never really got to take any literature classes in college and I missed them. I still have longer to recover. You could read to me whenever you wanted to."

"I'd like that," Namjoon said, his dimples appearing and lighting up his face.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

You laid back with your head and neck pressing back against the pillow as you closed your eyes as Namjoon's voiced lulled you asleep. You knew it wasn't just his voice and the way his voice took on a smooth rhythm as he read or the way his voice grew hoarse eventually. The doctor had slowly been weaning you off of the painkillers, while the pain wasn't as intense as before, it still exhausted you.

He was reading from Jane Eyre a book you certainly hadn't expected Namjoon to choose. The gothic element was enough to send shivers down your spine, but not keep you from falling asleep.

You were halfway through the book now and you knew you would never finish. Your condition was improving and you barely needed pain medication anymore. The doctor came once a day and today he had told you that he thought you'd be able to go back to your own apartment and life the next day.

Namjoon stopped reading and it jolted you out of your half-slumber.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I thought you were asleep."

You opened your eyes and shook your head, although your eyelids were only half open crescent moons and the way you were forcing them open made Namjoon chuckle.

"You're tired, anyway," he said. He closed the book and stood up from his chair. "Goodnight. Sleep well."

You watched as Namjoon walked towards the door and felt something in your chest. "Wait," you said. "This is the last night and we haven't finished the story."

"Y/N, we still have half the book left. There's no way--"

"Just stay with me tonight," you said. "I'll have to go back to being in my apartment all alone tomorrow and I don't know. I've enjoyed having you around."

"Y/N--" Namjoon said. "You're just--this isn't right--"

Namjoon's eyes met yours for a second before he ripped them away and walked out of the room with the book still in hand.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"She--she asked me to stay with her," Namjoon said. He sat in his desk chair with his feet resting up on the desk, something he only did when he was thinking deeply.

"Is that a bad thing?" his right-hand man, Yoongi asked. "You like her, right?"

"Yes, but Yoongi, she hasn't been out of that room for weeks. She's only seen me and the doctor with only a couple of exceptions. It's just Stockholm Syndrome."

"We didn't kidnap her though. She could've left if she wanted."

"Yes, Yoongi, but why would she? She would've had to pay for medical care elsewhere. Even if we didn't mean to, we trapped her here. She's hardly seen anyone but me. Of course, she'll become attached."

"It's not like you were torturing her, Joon. You were helping her and I see the way you look at her too. Everyone does."

"If I wanted to, I can't give her the life she deserves. She's doing good things, Yoongi. She's innocent and I want her to stay that way." Yoongi nodded in his head in understanding, but there lingered a small glint of hesitation in his eyes. "And, even if I could, keeping her around her is dangerous. If our rivals found out about her, she'd become a target."

Namjoon sighed and stood up from his desk and shuffled through his papers. "Make sure she gets home safely tomorrow. Keep a couple of men in the area for the next week or so just in case it was a targeted attack."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"He's not coming?" you asked the man who introduced himself as Yoongi.

He shook his head and gave you a sympathetic look. "But, he did want me to give you this."

Yoongi reached into his bag and pulled out the copy of Jane Eyre Namjoon had read to you. It was an old copy--at least fifty years old--and he had a bookmark stuck halfway through. You opened to the marked page and found his handwriting on the bookmark. He wrote in black ink. It was neat, although smudged around the edges because he'd closed the book on it when the ink was still wet.

It's your turn to read now Namjoon x

Your eyes focused down on the 'x'. It certainly didn't mean anything, it was just his way of signing off, but it left you satisfied as you walked out of the door escorted by Yoongi and a few other men.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

3 months later

"Y/N!" one of your coworkers said, rushing into your office. "You're never going to believe this."

"What?" you asked looking up from your work.

"Some guy just came in here. He was so handsome and wearing a fancy suit and he wrote us a thirty thousand dollar check." She held up the check so you could see it.

"No way," you said, grabbing the check from her hands. You held it up to the light and placed it under the black light you had to verify authentic donations. You had a weird feeling in your gut and you glanced down at the signature on the check. You couldn't make out a particular name, but a shiver ran down your spine. "What was his name?"

"Oh, well, I don't think he told us his real name. But, you know the rich types, always wanting to protect their identities."

"Y/C/N, what. was. his. name?"

"Mr. Rochester."

6 months later

"We're a bit short his month, Y/N," your boss said. "You know I hate to deduct from wages. It wasn't much this month."

You nodded. It was the reality of working for a non-profit. Sometimes you got paid and sometimes you didn't, but you knew the money was going to people more deserving of yourself. You waited until you were on your way home to open the envelope and see just how much you were getting that month. When your eyes met the total, you slowly looked down before continuing onto your apartment.

You pushed the key into the lock wondering just how you were going to scrounge up enough money for next month's rent. You could always sell something or do some odd jobs on the weekends. You opened your door and stepped inside feeling your foot slip forward, causing you to nearly trip, your only savior is your right hand was still holding on to the doorknob.

You got your footing and bent down to find a small envelope that was slid under your door. Your name was printed neatly on it. Normally, this would freak you out, but you noticed the same black ink from the bookmark in the copy of Jane Eyre.

I know money has been tight. Here's rent for the next couple months. Keep doing what's important x Mr. Rochester

Tears came to your eyes and your bit your index finger as you read the note over and over again. He was absolutely insufferable and part of you wanted to rip up the check, but instead, you slipped it out of the envelope and into your purse.

9 months later

It was a quiet Saturday night when you heard the knock at your door. It was nearly 11 pm and you weren't expecting anyone. You were already in your pajamas and you had picked up Jane Eyre for the first time in a few months. It wasn't that you found it particularly hard to read, but every time you picked it up, you were reminded of him. The man you had no idea why you still thought about. The man who occasionally came into your life and then left just as quickly.

The knock came again and louder this time. This time panic rushed down your spine and you froze. Was it best to approach the door and give away the fact you weren't asleep? Or was it best to just act like you'd already done to bed and hope they go away?

You stayed put, but clutched your cellphone close to you. Another knock never came, but instead the rustling of the doorknob and the clicking of the lock. It was when you heard it successfully unlock that you ran towards the kitchen. You grabbed your largest kitchen knife and crouched in the corner.

You were in the middle of dialing emergency services when you were yanked up by your hair and your cellphone went clattering to the floor.

"Ah, yes, you are her," the man said.

You didn't recognize the man in front of you. He was taller than you and held your hair in a tightening grip that caused you to whimper.

"You're plainer than I expected. He's head over heels for you, so I figured you must be beautiful. But, I guess, you must have better things to offer." He smirked, but unlike the smirks Namjoon sometimes let slip, this one terrified you.

"Who are you?" you asked.

"It doesn't matter to you baby girl," he said. "All you need to know is that you're going to die."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Namjoon!" Yoongi said, running into the room, breathless. His face was red and his eyes were creased, almost in fear. It was uncommon for Yoongi to get so worked up, let alone run. He spoke when he finally caught his breath, "Min-sung," he said. "Min-sung was seen near her apartment."

Min-sung had once been a trusted man, but he began getting greedy. Wanting to take all the jobs. Skimming money off the top. He felt betrayed when Namjoon finally let him go. You'd think he'd be grateful, most other bosses would've had him killed for how much money he stole, but no. Min-sung's mind was only focused on the drugs he took and the money he needed to buy them.

Namjoon's eyes widened. He pulled open his desk drawer, nearly pulling the entire drawer out of it's setting. He pulled out a handgun and fed in the clip. It had not once been fired. Namjoon had never had the urge nor the need to kill, until that very moment.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"I'm going to play with you," he said. "To let him know you suffered. His precious little secret on the south side of the city."

"Please, I don't know who you're talking about. The walls are thin. I'm sure the neighbors are worried by now." Both were lies, but you hoped it came off convincing enough. He'd let go of your hair, but now he straddled you.

"Tell me, how do you want to die?"

"I don't want to die."

He laughed. "Of course not, sweetheart. But, you're going to. I'm being generous and giving you a choice. I could take that knife you had when I came in and stab you or I could kill you with my hands on your throat. Or, I could hold your head down in the bathtub and watch as you writhe around--"

Tears pushed out of your eyes and you felt blood sprout from your bottom lip as you dug into it. You squirmed underneath the man trying to wriggle yourself free or one of your limbs free.

"You know, I haven't really given much thought to dying," you said. You slowly slipped your foot upwards until you had enough leverage to bring your knee into his crotch.

He doubled over in enough pain for you to free yourself. You ran back towards the kitchen to grab the knife from earlier. You wrapped your palm around the hilt, but he was behind you before you could turn around. With all your might, you forced the knife backward, but it was at an awkward angle. Yet, you still heard him wince.

The knife dropped from your hand and the man turned you around, forcing your back against the counter. You noticed a long cut on his arm and felt a small sense of pride. At least if he was going to kill you, he would have a scar.

His hands wrapped around your neck and his thumbs sat right on top of your windpipe. You made eye contact with him as he pushed down and you made a small croaking sound as your eyes grew wider and your toes pointed in reaction to the lack of air.

"Stop...please...help...Namjoon..."

You managed only a few words before you ran out of air to manage any sounds. Your vision was beginning to blur and you knew in a few seconds you'd black out and it'd be the end.

The last few moments were so loud you couldn't make out what happened. Yelling, shuffling, a slam of a door, a loud pop. Then, it was all over.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Y/N, Y/N, please come back to me."

You opened your eyes to see Namjoon crouched over you. Blood stained his shirt and even parts of his skin, but his hand was clean as it caressed your cheek softly.

"Thank God," he said. "I thought I was too late. The doctor is on his way and so are my men to clean up everything. We'll pay off the neighbors to keep things quiet if we have to. You don't need to worry."

"I'm not worried, Namjoon." Your voice was hoarse and still not all the way there. You felt the bruises forming on your neck and your entire body ached. You turned you head to see your attacker laying in a pool of blood a few feet away.

"Hey, hey, don't look at that. Come on."

"I'm not a child."

"That doesn't mean you need to see a dead guy on your kitchen floor."

He lifted you up and carried you into your bedroom. After setting you down, he went back out to the living area and grabbed the copy of Jane Eyre.

"You didn't get very far."

"I've been busy."

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

1 year later

Namjoon is almost done setting up everything in his new office when he hears a soft knock at the door. A delivery person carrying a large bouquet of flowers strides in and sets the vase on his desk and left without a word.

Curious, Namjoon walked from the corner of the room where he had been shelving books and to the center of the room. He plucked the card from among the flower heads.

I finally found time to finish the book. Congrats on the new job. Let's meet soon. Love, Jane

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hardyimagines · 5 years ago

Text

Rumors

Drabble. little bit of angst + little bit of fluff

Warnings: mild physical aggression

The icy floorboards welcomed your barefeet as you quietly traipsed across the dust-ridden wooden floor. The ground was warmer than the surrounding room, tense and silent. The fight that had taken place earlier seemed to still linger in the room. The yells echoed throughout your head despite the fact that the only sound taking place was the crackling from the dancing flame in the fireplace as it ate the coals and log tucked away inside the spot.

Alfie was seated on the sofa. He had a blanket draped across his lap, lopsided and crumpled as he laid his forearms on his thighs, fingers pinched around an old novel he’d found a few days ago. The blue-eyed man was pretending to read the words but no matter how many times he tried to absorb the information in front of him, he couldn’t comprehend anything he was reading. He could hear you tiptoeing through the room and toward the kitchen. He knew you were trying to avoid another altercation. The one that had happened earlier hadn’t ended on good terms. His eyes slid to the clock in the corner, it was past midnight, too late for another disagreement anyway. He eyed the oversized necessity as the minute hand ticked by quietly. His observation didn’t last long before he looked back down at his book, fingers lifting to pinch the frame of his glasses so he could adjust them. He kept a close eye on you, peripheral vision trusty and reliable. He caught a final glimpse of you, vanishing through the doorway and into the kitchen.

You just wanted a hot cup of tea. You needed something to relax you, to help lull you to sleep. It was hard when you were left on your own, Alfieless. When the pair of you fought, you were both stubborn, equally refusing to apologize for what had taken place. Sometimes the tension wore away and you went about it as if nothing had happened. Other times, he’d strike up a conversation and apologize without ever having to say those simple words. ‘I’m sorry.’ It was like a weighted phrase to him. You were no better though, just as refusing to say them.

You let a soft sigh fall past your lips as you drew a small mug out of the cabinet and set it on the clean counter. Your fingertips brushed along the handle as you did your best to push the memory of earlier to the farthest corner of your mind. It didn’t work. It was front and center.

Your shoulders were still sore from where he’d unexpectedly pressed you against the nearby wall. It had been a bit rough, too sudden for you to have been able to prepare yourself.

Earlier that day

A sharp gasp fell from your parted lips. The muscles in your back and the bones of your shoulders tightened as you were slammed up against the wall leading to the kitchen. Alfie’s eyes were wild, absent, you didn’t recognize him at all as he held you in place. His grip on your arms was tight, fingers sinking into the warm flesh of your tender skin as he peered down at you.

“What the hell is your problem?” He spat. It was evident your moaning and sighing and need to avoid him throughout the day had finally gotten on his last nerve.

“You.” You shoved at him, an attempt to free yourself from his strong grasp, but he tightened his grip and pushed you back more firmly.

“Me?” He almost laughed. His tone dropped with disbelief. He was the only one of the two of you who had a right to be upset.

“You’ve been rude all day.” You struggled pointlessly in his strong grasp. The curls that hadn’t been long enough to stay tucked away in your tied hair fell in front of your eyes, tickling your cheeks. The strands lifted with your soft breaths. Confidence and bravery shown in those big eyes of yours, but he saw the fear that tagged alongside, cowering behind the seemingly stronger display of emotions. Telling him how you felt could go one of two ways. He’d be understanding and hear you out about why you were so bothered or he’d lash out.

He cocked a brow. He had a lot on his mind, a lot of things had been said to him today. He hadn’t revealed any of that to you yet though. “Right and when was this, pet. You’re the one who’s been stomping around, sighing and moaning and complaining, yeah. I haven’t fucking done anything.” His eyes narrowed, the impatience that radiated off of him seemed to gather in his fingertips, forcing him to press on your arms just a little rougher, trying to pull the words from your throat quicker.

Your jaw clenched, pink lips pressing against each other before a heavy scoff fell from your lips. You winced in the slightest beneath his touch, head tilting back so your chin was turned up at him. “You’ve been rude to me all day long and the second that I return the favor, I’m the bad guy.” With all the strength you could muster, your palms pressed against the front of his chest and you shoved him back as hard as you could. He moved maybe a couple of inches, hands falling from their place on your arms. You dipped around him and made movement to head for the sofa. Leaving wasn’t exactly an option, storming out of the house to aimlessly wonder around. You had nowhere else to stay so fighting with the man you were dating seemed to be the only thing there was to do. “So, maybe you want to be a big boy,” You squinted. “And tell me why you’re acting like such an ass.”

Alfie did chuckle this time. A low, husky sound fell from his lips as he lifted his hand to his chin and pulled lazily at the curls that stuck out of his skin. “Alright.” He barked. He was saving his questions until the end of the night when the two of you were tucked away in bed, but you could feel that something wasn’t right, and he clearly wasn’t being his usual loving self so the talk was going to have to happen now. The boots he wore everyday were dirtier than usual, louder than usual too as he stomped across the room, a trail of dirt following him. He settled in the center of the rug parallel to you. The only thing between your bodies was the dirty coffee table, stained with spilled coffee and food crumbs that he could never seem to clean up. “The lads have shared some.. rather fucking infuriating information, yeah, bit agitating really.” He wasn’t angry just yet, more frustrated than anything. He hadn’t said what needed to be said, but once he did you’d know just how far his anger went.

“Go on.” Your tone was sharp, slightly bored as you leaned back against the cushions, one leg lifting to drape across the other. You laid your hands in your lap, soft eyes moving along his features as you waited for him to spit out some poor excuse that wouldn’t help him out of the situation he’d thrown himself into.

“You’ve apparently been sneaking around with Charlie.” His brows lifted, scruffy facial hair above his lip rubbing against the hair that gathered on his chin as he pulled his lips in. “So ive been told by a few of the fucking lads, right.” His blue eyes seemed much darker beneath the glow of the fire in the corner. As if his emotions could change the color of his orbs. You straightened on the sofa. He could tell you were getting ready to speak. “I’ll let you explain yourself, won’t I, yeah, because I am the type of man to give my girl a chance to defend herself, right, so.” His arms folded over his chest, arms flexing beneath the thin material of his white shirt. “Are you fucking sneaking around?” Alfie growled.

The air in your lungs vanished. A sharp pain formed in your chest, a stinging, agitating feeling that picked and poked at you. “Leave it to you, Alfie, to accuse me of cheating based on what your trusty lads tell you.” Huffing, you pushed yourself up from the sofa. “You’re pathetic. If you honestly believe that I’d ever even think about someone else let alone mess around..” Your tone was growing sharper. Your voice was growing louder. Alfie unfolded his arms, hands pressing against his hips as he stared at you.

“Didn’t say that, now did I, I repeated, right, what they fucking said and am now generously giving you the fucking opportunity to explain yourself.” He suddenly bellowed.

Exasperated, you lifted your hands to your face and rubbed it down. “By asking me for an explanation, you’re siding with them!” Was he really this stupid! You stepped forward, knees grazing the coffee table. “I’m not going to recite the entirety of every conversation I’ve ever had with Charlie. You either trust me, as you’re meant to, or you believe those absolute children!” You almost shrieked. The amount of discomfort in your stomach made you curl your hands in the sides of the fabric, your bottom lip beginning to tremble.

Alfie was in the midst of moistening his lips so he could bite back a response but right when he was conjuring up something smart to spit in your direction, he was pulled back to earlier that day. Reliving the oh so lovely news. The new assistant, Ronald.. his brows furrowed. Maybe it was Donald. He squinted. He couldn’t remember the bloke’s name. He could, however, remember the way that multiple lads poured into the room, all of them joining in with the newbie’s words to rat you out. You were cheating, according to all of them. Alfie had been flustered in his office when the group started to explain what they saw.

Charlie was younger, closer to your age. He was brunette with big, brown eyes that seemed like the color of honey beneath the bright sun’s rays. He was a trusted employee. Not anymore. Today, he would be fired.

Alfie, at first, was settled in his office chair with his legs spread wide and his features calm. He absentmindedly twisted the chain attached to the frame of his glasses, ears straining to hear each of the lads as they told him about when, where, and what you had done with the boy. He could hear the quakes in their voices as they tried their best to maintain their confidence. Revealing something so private to someone who was the least bit understanding was, quite frankly, terrifying.

The low drumming of the rain outside hit the window. It was a soft patter, reeling your attention to it as Alfie stood, faraway. You hoped his memory was treating him well, reminding him of exactly what was said so he could pick at the spewed lies. You weren’t worried. What proof did anybody have? You knew. Nothing. You were faithful, honest, in love with the brute stood on the other side of the table. Part of you felt sick that he would trust someone else’s word over your own, but if you had a group of people swarming you with a confession — a secret, that Alfie had been messing around with another girl.. it would be hard to brush off. You stepped to the side, ready to remove yourself from your trapped position between the table and sofa. Alfie mirrored your footsteps, pulled from his thoughts. Your eyes darted to him and the suddeness of his actions, no longer interested in the raindrop trails that stained the glass in the corner of the room. Alfie’s breaths were slow, he was ready to explain. He took to long to speak. So you did.

“When you’re ready to apologize,” Your tone was no kinder than a few seconds ago, especially not now as he stepped closer. He was intimidating and tall and you didn’t appreciate the way he closed in on you. He cut you off.

“Me? Pet, I ain’t the one behaving like a whore, am I?” He placed his hands on his hips, eyeing you intently. Your every movement was scrutinized, as if you’d fidget or tremble or do something to give away that you were lying.

You stiffened. Was he being serious? Scoffing in disbelief, you lifted your hand and jabbed your palm into the middle of his chest, jaw clenching as you halted him from coming any closer. “What did you just say?” The man looked like a stranger in that moment. Never, in all the time that the two of you had been together, had he ever called you anything similar to what he’d just had the nerve to call you.

“Do you have another name for it?” The man uttered.

“Oh my god. You’re unbelievable!” Your insides churned with disgust. Who was he? You didn’t recognize him in this moment.

“Right, Y/n, I think that’d be you, yeah, seeing as you’re the unfaithful one. Can’t seem to keep your fucking legs closed. You’ve got no right no be upset, lass. You’ve been caught, is that it?” Truth be told, he couldn’t imagine you messing around behind his back. When the two of you had finally got together, it had taken quite a while. He made advances toward you and you did your best to brush them off. It had taken him months to get you to agree to go out with him, you were only hesitant because he was your boss, but the second you caved.. the dates had gone beyond good and your relationship had blossomed into something unbelievable. He couldn’t seem to figure out why four boys would tell him you were screwing one of his employees though if it weren’t true. What was in it for them?

A surge of anger shot through you like a shot of adrenaline. Without any control over yourself, your hand lifted and swung in his direction. You waited for the impact of your palm colliding with his face, but his reflexes were faster than you had initially expected. His hand was tight around your wrist and without any effort at all, he pushed you back so your body fell against the couch. He covered you, like a blanket did on most nights. His hand settled beside your head, eyes glistening with so much anger and betrayal as he stared down at you. You thrashed, hitting at his chest and bucking at him to get off of you.

Cyril stood in the corner. He had been laying down, listening to the pair of you, but when Alfie pushed you down on the couch and you were frantic to get free, he started to bark. His bark was loud, low, a heavy sound that made most people take a few steps back.

“Quiet!” Alfie shouted to the dog, doing his best to keep you still. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he wasn’t your punching bag.

“I hate you.” You told him breathily. “I hate you so much.” Your hits were harder, your legs kicked feverishly. He could see your eyes, brewing with salty tears as you did your absolute best to escape his strong grip. “Get off of me, Alfie!”

“Why, so you can try and hit me again?” The room was hot and your throat was tight as he continued to spew venomous and hurtful things in your direction. He’d only ever made you cry, one other time, and it had been when you were tired and sick and wanted him to come home and hold you. He’d insisted he had to work, but the second those tears raced along your warm cheeks, he couldn’t deny you. He’d ended up coming home with you.

“Alfie, please.” Your voice broke. You grew still beneath him, slumped. Your head rolled to the side and your chest lifted with your slow, quiet breaths. “If you really think I’d cheat, then I should go.”

Alfie clenched his jaw. “I want an explanation.”

“I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you, Alfie.” To anyone walking by the small house and peering through the windows that lined the front, the pair of you were probably a sight, Alfie straddling your hips as you slumped beneath him. “If you really think,” Your head rolled forward so you could see him clearly. “I would mess around with someone else then why are you even asking. You should’ve left.”

Alfie exhaled heavily. “I don’t want to believe it. I’m waiting for you to..” He shrugged in the slightest. He’d never been in this position before.

“For me to what, Alfie? Assure you. That’s not my place. If someone is spreading lies about me — that you assume are lies, you should get to the root of them. Did you even ask Charlie?” Sitting up in the best you could, you took this rare, vulnerable moment and pushed him back and off of you. He helped, falling back and landing on the cushions. He eyed you uncertainly, big blue eyes falling to his lap.

“Why would four boys come to me and tell me you was fucking messing around with Charlie, right, if that weren’t the case?” He sighed heavily, hands lifting to cover his face. He rubbed it down tiredly, unsure of what to believe.

“I don’t know Alfie. Why would four boys come to their big, scary boss and tell him something that they think would make him trust them. They’re trying to gain respect by doing right by you. But they’re young, stupid, and they’re doing it the wrong way.” Shaking your head, you stood from the sofa. “And you’re an idiot for even bringing this home. You know, as well as I do, that..” You couldnt finish the sentence. Alfie was all you wanted, all you’d ever want, and he was accusing you of being unfaithful. Your heart hurt. “Think long and hard about what you’re going to say next because if it’s not ‘I’m sorry’ you can save it and I’ll leave on my own accord.” You stepped around the coffee table and slowly left the room. You needed time alone.

12:30 A.M.

The small house smelt strongly of tea. The scent was warm, inviting. It made Alfie’s stomach growl and his mouth water. He was tempted to ask if you’d made enough for two glasses or if there was only enough for you. He didn’t mind making his own, he was just curious if you’d had extra. The man had closed the book a few minutes ago, it was laid face down on his thighs as he slumped against the arm of the sofa. Cyril had quietly followed you into the kitchen long ago, curious to know what you were doing and if you’d give him anything. Alfie inhaled deeply. The fight could only last for so long. He hadn’t said a single word to you since earlier, your last words being that he needed to apologize and that wasn’t easy for him. You knew that, it was exactly why you’d said it.

You were seated at the dining room table. Your feet lazily hung, skimming the tile of the cold floor beneath you as you took your time to sip the hot beverage. You’d built up a tolerance over the years, it wasn’t so hard to drink the drink without wincing. You were impatient, always trying to sip at the scalding liquid before the steam had had a chance to stop lifting from the top. The mug was set on the table, you lazily rotating it as you ran through your endless thoughts. You waited for Alfie, hopeful that he would at least mumble out some pathetic form of an apology. You set your elbow on the table and your cheek in your hand as your droopy eyes fluttered. They were heavy, desperate to close, but the second that you did, you’d be restless.

Neither of you moved for what felt like forever. You’d drift for a few moments, listening to the soft tap of Cyril’s nails against the floor or the clank when you’d lift your mug and set it back down. It was only when the heavy sound of alfies boots filled the room that you looked over your shoulder and toward the door.

He was stood tall, wide. His arms were folded as per usual. He was stern, quiet. The man stepped into the room without so much as a glance in your direction. His footsteps were loud, thumping against the floor as he moved through the room and over to the cabinet. He was going to make his own tea. You watched him closely, taking advantage of the fact that his back was toward you. He couldn’t call you out for staring. You shifted. Why were you anyway? He’d hurt your feelings — more than he probably knew. Directing your stare back to the tea instead, you pursed your lips. You were not going to speak first. You were not going to offer him your drink because you were too sleepy to finish it. You were not going to ask him if he was coming to bed or bring up the topic from earlier. But you didn’t have to.

“Pet.” His voice was low. It was almost inaudible, even in the silent room. Your lashes tickled your eyelids as you lifted your gaze to the man. “Are you awake enough to talk?” The huskiness of his voice soothes you. You wanted to go to sleep so badly, but you couldn’t, not without him. Nodding softly, you let out a soft hum before shuffling in the slightest on the chair. Watching him as he moved from the cabinets to the sink to the stove, your pink lips parted.

“I don’t want to argue though, Alfie. It’s.. I’m so tired.” You confessed.

The man looked in your direction. He was quiet as he observed you. His big, curious eyes slid along your sleepy expression, watching the way you tried to hold your head up by your cheek, steadying it with your palm. Your shoulders were slumped and your body looked heavy. But he knew, just like you did, sleep wouldn’t come so easily.

“I don’t have it in me to shout, yeah? Let’s go in the living room. It’s much warmer.” Lifting his cup of tea, he moved over to the table and lifted yours as well. You stood from the creaky chair, stepping in front of him so the two of you could move into the living room to settle on the sofa in front of the fire. You dropped down first, lifting his book out of the way so you didn’t crush it. Laying it on the coffee table, you waited for him to join you before you lifted the blanket he’d been using and pulled it to yourself. It smelt like him. It was very comforting. The man set the mugs on the table beside the book before looking in your direction.

“Right.. so.” He was quiet, pondering what he should say first. You knew an apology wouldn’t be instant. “I’m sorry for how I acted today.” Your eyes widened at the words. Eyeing him under an inquisitive stare, you drew the blanket up to your chin and eyed him closely. “Shouldn’t have fucking manhandled you and pushed you on the sofa or pinned you to the wall, yeah, that wasn’t fucking fair for me to do, was it?” You were quiet, patient. Surely that wasn’t all he wanted to apologize for. “I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating as well, right, but it is a bit fucking difficult, yeah, to be told something by the lads and then to just ignore it.”

“I didn’t ask you to ignore it, Alfie.” You whispered. “But you could’ve informed me about what was being said, you could’ve asked me about It instead of pinning me to the wall and shouting at me and calling me names.” Your voice was still soft, no anger in your tone now. You wanted to resolve this. “Tell me the Truth..”

“No.” He answer your question before you could ask it. “I didn’t believe them, alright. But put yourself in my shoes, yeah, for a second, right, if multiple people came to you and said they fucking saw me with another woman, what would you do?” His blue eyes slid between yours, searching for the answer. He already knew. You’d lash out like he had.

“Kill her.” You stated nonchalantly. “And then you.” The amusement in your gaze carried over to his as you shuffled. “I understand completely that you had to have had doubts, but Alfie, you shouldn’t have been as rude to me as you were. If I cheated, which I didn’t, then yes, you should’ve been a cunt. But I’ve said maybe a word to Charlie..” Alfie’s eyes shot to you. He didn’t even want to talk about this anymore. He knew you hadn’t done anything with the boy. He just wanted to kiss and make up and then fire the lads who’d lied about you.

Alfie shifted on the sofa before draping his arm across the length of the back. You, without much hesitation, shifted so that your body filled the gap between his side and your own. Crawling along the furniture until your body was pressed firmly against his own, you opened the blanket and draped it over his body before laying your head on his chest. “I’m sorry, pet.” He murmured, fingertips brushing through your soft strands of hair.

“You’re all I want.” You promised him tiredly, arm hooking around his front securely. Drawing him into you, you let your eyes flutter shut.

Alfie was quiet for a few moments, his touch brushing from your hair to roam the length of your arm. He was gentle, his touch was caring. He never wanted to be in a position like this again. It was the most he’d ever felt scared. He’d thought he was going to lose you. “I love you.” He whispered, warm lips meeting the skin of your forehead. He had to lean forward to achieve the soft kiss and after he had, he saw your face. Your eyes were closed and your lips were parted. You were fast asleep against his chest. Your faint breaths tickled the skin of his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned and your hand was curled loosely in the fabric of his shirt, legs curled inward to rest on his lap and body growing heavier and heavier against his the deeper you fell into oblivion. He didn’t blame you. It was late and the second the pair of you had made up, your body let itself give out, thankful for the reassurance.

Alfie moved his attention to the fire before smiling lazily. Reaching for his glasses, his book, and his tea, he left his arm draped around your small body, embracing you as he resumed his reading. He was tired too, but he wanted to savor this moment for a while before it was time to carry you off to bed with him.

———————————————————————

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chrysalispen · 3 years ago

Text

iv. never give the heart outright

AO3 link HERE Chapter under cut.

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The day Aurelia Laskaris left Gridania dawned damp and foggy: as mundane and unremarkable a sendoff as one could possibly wish. The heat wave had relented overnight and the wind with it, and the trees’ leaves hung still and sparkling with droplets of dew. Pale rays of early morning sun filtered through the low-hanging wisps of cloud and collected dust motes and small insects in their wake. The quality of it reminded her of L’haiya’s lace curtains, the way their softness and the delicate patterns and filtered sunbeams had always framed the sitting room windows of her girlhood home.

The driver of the chocobo carriage aimed to set out from the city before full daybreak. Thus she stood in drowsy silence along with half a dozen other passengers set to board, watching the lalafellin teamster as he and the Canopy’s porters secured the larger bags. Barring any unforeseen incidents, the carriage’s route would take them south past Quarrymill, through the marshes near old Amdapor, and south into the high desert of northeastern Thanalan until they reached Ul’dah.

It had taken her all of three days to conclude her affairs: there was, after all, no property for her to sell, nor any anxious relatives to wheedle her into remaining.

Watching the small man loop his handfuls of hempen rope to secure over boxes and bags and other people’s assorted belongings, Aurelia felt a certain twinge of wistfulness that she had not expected. The forest city was not quite home, but it had served as the closest thing she had to one for nearly five years. But it was not enough to keep her. The excitement of the road ahead had not left her, and she faced the morning with bright eyes and a clear mind. The sun was up and so was she.

Keveh’to did not share her optimism, that much was obvious with a mere glance. The Miqo’te stood at her side with an expression one could only describe as pained. His ears lay flat against his fluffy hair, and his fawn-colored bottlebrush tail lashed emphatic and agitated beats against her leg.

“I know I’ve asked you half a dozen times now,” he said quietly, “but are you absolutely certain about this?"

Her answer was the same as it had been each time he had asked:

“As certain as I shall ever be.”

“That isn’t reassuring.”

“Yes, well,” she felt a twinge of annoyance at his pessimism surface at last, “as one recalls, ‘twas you who made the suggestion that I consider further study afield.”

"When you told me you’d give the matter some thought, I didn’t expect you to come back to Miounne’s place the same day with a letter of introduction already scripted and sealed.” His arms folded over his chest and he stared up into the canopy. “E-Sumi-Yan must have had that letter already waiting to give to you, whatever he said.”

“Perhaps. It’s not as though he would have told me if he did.” Aurelia looked down at herself and smoothed the pleats of her skirt yet again. All of it, from head to toe, was new. It felt so odd; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had new clothing. “Thank you again,” she continued, somewhat awkwardly. “For the traveling attire. It's quite fine.”

Keveh’to shrugged. A dull rosy flush crept up the sides of his neck. “It’s Ul’dah,” he said. “They’ll toss you out the gates on your arse if you show up looking like a beggar.”

“Hells below,” she tried to make a jest of it with a soft laugh, “you make it sound as though they’ll have a fashion inspector awaiting my arrival.”

“No. But I’ve known my share of that lot, and ‘tis not unlikely they’ll hit you with a demand for a hefty bribe at least once.”

“Yes, I’ve heard stories from some of the others.”

“And for goodness’ sake, Relia- please do yourself a favor and be careful about the company you keep. No one needs to know about you-know-what.” He tapped his temple with a humorless smile. “Ul’dah is a great deal more cosmopolitan than our humble little forest abode, but even they might balk at that.”

The stare she gave him could best be described as obstinate, with the hard set of her jawline. “...I might be ignorant of many Eorzean customs, but I should like to think I am not that much of a fool.”

“I’m trying to watch out for you.”

“Rest assured, I do appreciate the thought.” Still so glum. She frowned at him, “I thought that this decision would have pleased you. You made no secret you were tired of watching me mope about.”

“I- yes. But-”

He opened his mouth, stuttered into empty air, then sighed.

The other passengers milled about them in a somnolent shuffle, muttering to each other and passing bags back and forth. A pair of snowy-haired elezen twins in clothing as new and fine as her own brushed past Aurelia and Keveh’to without sparing a second glance, their identical braids and hair-ribbons stirring in a cool and sluggish breeze from the riverbank. She waited for the pair to pass well out of earshot before she continued, as gently as she could manage:

“This isn’t goodbye forever, you know.”

“I know.”

“They gave me honorary citizenship. I think I’m obligated to at least visit from time to time.” Another jest, one which failed in a like manner as the other to crack his solemn visage. “But I do fully plan on returning once I’ve completed my studies.”

“Right. I understand that. It’s…” His ears swiveled forward, then back, still flattened unhappily against his hair. “...Never mind. It’s not important.”

“No, go on.”

“It’s a trifling personal matter. Naught that you should worry about.”

“If you have something to say-”

That stony stoicism faded at last, relaxing into a smile, but it was as sad a smile as she had ever seen Keveh’to Epocan give anyone. “Matter of fact, I did. Once. But I see now that I’ve gone and waited too long,” he said cryptically. “Saying it now won’t change anything, and I wager I’d only feel worse if it did.”

“I’m sorry.” Aurelia worried at her lower lip with her teeth. “Truly, I am.”

His smile stretched into a grin. It made him look far more like the man she had come to know, the friend who teased and needled her and let her talk herself into momentous decisions. “You’ve no cause to be sorry for anything, my friend. The fault is mine own if there’s fault to be placed. I’m just being sentimental, I suppose. And, mayhap, a touch selfish.”

“Last call for luggage,” bellowed one of the porters. “If ye don’t bring it up now, ye’ll be carryin’ it yerselves! ‘Tis a long road ahead! Last call for luggage!”

Aurelia looked down at herself, then the bags at her feet. She only had the three pieces: her salvaged field kit, her herbal bag, and the pack which held in it those few trifling personal possessions she owned, including her mother’s memento mori. The field kit’s thick carbonweave strap perched on her shoulder, its tripartite-link imperial insignia long since removed by her own hand (Rhaya Wolndara’s angry reaction to the sight of it had been a valuable lesson in precaution) and its once-hefty weight now considerably lightened with even her most conservative usage of its contents over the years.

“Well,” he said after a moment, with transparently forced cheer, “let’s be about it. This lot won’t load itself.”

“The field kit needs to stay with me,” she drew out of reach when he stretched out a hand to take it from her shoulder. “Too many fragile items. Glass and the like. I’ll not trust it to the vagaries of a draught chocobo.”

“Fair enough.”

He picked up the others and made his way toward the waiting porter as the small collection of passengers began to mill towards the slatted steps. A Highlander man drowsed near the front of the carriage, hand wrapped loosely about a wine bottle and otherwise oblivious to the world. Aurelia double-checked the small leather belt she wore to make sure the letters Miounne and E-Sumi-Yan had penned were intact; a fine mess it would be if she were to lose them on the journey.

“Aurelia!”

The matronly Duskwight proprietress of the Carline Canopy stood head and shoulders over most of the passengers, and she quickly drew their attention as she made her way towards the small gathering with a swift and decisive stride. The Garlean offered her a small smile.

“Good morning to you, Miounne,” she said. “Come to see me off, have you?”

“I certainly have. I hope you weren’t planning on leaving us this morning without breaking your fast, girl,” was Miounne’s brisk reply, though she returned the smile as she held out her hands. In them, she carried a steaming tin cup and a small cloth-wrapped bundle. “I set aside one of my eel pies for you. ‘Tis a bit chilly as well, so I thought some hot tea might do you well on the road. Don’t worry about the cup; I have plenty of them.”

Touched by the gesture, Aurelia carefully took the cup and the wrapped pie, one in each hand.

“You didn’t have to do this-”

“I know,” Miounne said, a wry smirk tilting her lips. She wiped her hands on her apron. “But I did. The pie is heavy and should keep your belly full for a day or two. You’ll be changing carriages at the station in Highbridge to the Sunroad trail; you’ll want to get more supplies while you’re there-- make sure you have plenty of fresh water. There’s naught betwixt Drybone and the city save malms of scrubland, and this time of year the water holes will be too low to sustain travelers. I imagine the Calamity will have made the pickings slim for hunting as well.”

Aurelia nodded.

“Once you pass through the city gates, make your way to the Quicksand. That’s where the Ul’dahn Adventurers’ Guild operates; the proprietress’ name is Momodi Modi. I sent word ahead that she’s to expect your arrival within the sennight. All you need to do is give her your name and mine.”

“I... yes. I’ll do that.”

“And please, Aurelia dear- do take care in Ul’dah. It is a very different sort of city from ours. You are a kind woman with the best of intentions and there are those who would…” Miounne hesitated. “...Well. I’ll not fearmonger; I’ll wager you’ve heard enough of that. But I would ask the Twelve to watch over you nonetheless- if that’s all right, of course.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Instead, she watched Keveh’to’s back, the way his officer’s overcoat pulled taut across the shoulders as he passed her bags to the porter, then cast her eyes down at Miounne’s parting gifts.

The sight brought back a memory of the last time she had left behind the familiar to set out for the unknown: fresh from her schooling, set to board a train at the capital’s processing center after she had enlisted in the imperial army. No one had accompanied her. Not to give her well wishes or helpful directions, or even to wave their farewells from the platform as the train departed for the tunnels bored beneath the mountains and into the heart of Castrum Pinnaculum. She had gone to the station alone, had left alone, and for the first few weeks of basic training, she had struggled alone.

But she was not alone now. Perhaps she no longer owned a marvel of a garden, or slept in a fine bed, or wore silks, but since coming to Eorzea she had made more friends in this past handful of years than in the previous decade. That had to count for something.

Aurelia stared into the steaming teacup and swallowed past the sudden constriction in her throat with considerable effort, then looked at the other woman with glassy blue eyes.

“I’d like that,” she said at last. “And thank you, Miounne. For everything.”

Before the woman could muster a response Aurelia had turned away and hurried towards the lowered carriage steps. She didn’t want to lose her nerve or shed tears, not today, and she still had one more farewell to give.

Keveh’to reached the steps first; he plucked the carbonweave strap from her shoulder and slung it over his own the moment she drew near. “Let me pass that up to you once you’re seated,” he said. “You can’t carry both your breakfast and this great bloody thing onto the carriage.”

She was the last to board. The wooden stair was showing its age and it creaked even under Aurelia’s slight weight as she made her way onto the covered deck. The platinum-headed Elezen twins she had seen earlier sat in the back near the cargo across from the last empty space: the one in blue was wholly absorbed in perusing a tome while the one in red dozed upon their companion’s shoulder. Neither of them paid her any mind as she set her teacup and snugly wrapped meal upon the open seat. Nor did any of the others, for that matter.

Mayhap this part was not so very different from that long ago train ride after all.

Aurelia chuckled aloud, though the sound lacked humor, and turned towards the other end of the carriage at the sound of swift footsteps. Keveh’to had come up behind her to deliver her remaining bag. The half-empty imperial field kit, still large and cumbersome for all it lacked much of the weight it once bore, smacked with a quiet dull thud against his thigh with each step. His expression was unreadable as he set it down at her feet.

“Suppose Mother Miounne already said it so I don’t need to,” he said, “but I will, anyroad. Take care of yourself and be careful who you trust. And if there is trouble and you need to leave for any reason, you always have a home here.”

“Keveh’to-” Before she could finish what she had meant to say his arms had wrapped about her shoulders in a heavy embrace, tail wound around her calf.

“Write to us once in a while, will you?” he muttered in her ear. “Just… just so we know you’re doing alright. Even if it’s something about your alchemy that I- I mean, we don’t understand.”

“Or care about,” Aurelia said wryly. She knew full well that Keveh’to was not asking her to write to Miounne. Her arms tightened about his shoulders in return, just for a brief moment. “...I’ll write as often as I can manage.”

“Good.”

The Miqo’te looked for a moment as though he wanted to say - or do - something more, but instead released her with all haste, tail flickering and ears swiveling with his discomfiture as he went. Aurelia said nothing further as she took a step backward and turned to the seat where her tea and morning meal awaited. It was easy enough to spare him his blushes, to pretend that her focus lay upon how best she might secure her bag under the seat. Once that was done she picked up the teacup and took a thoughtful sip, placing Miounne's eel pie upon her lap. She was too full of nerves to be terribly hungry but that would no doubt change within a bell or two.

His retreat down the narrow steps came just in time for the porter to lift and shutter the low-slung door behind him with a brisk snap. Aurelia felt her eyes prickle and burn but her composure held fast, and when she turned about and lifted her free hand to wave at her friend it was with a bright smile on her face.

Her minder - her friend, now - gave only a half-second’s hesitation before he waved back. At his side, Miounne too lifted her hand in silent farewell.

“Quarrymill!” the driver shouted. “Next stop, Quarrymill!”

Following upon the heels of the teamster’s call came the draught chocobos’ twin kwehs. She braced herself and her teacup a moment before she felt the sharp initial jolt of the carriage’s forward motion. Within seconds it smoothed into a sedate and seamless drift as the wind aether filled the balloons overhead, and they were off down the half-paved cobbles that led to the Blue Badger gate. In moments they would pass out of the city and turn onto the southbound road.

For the final time, Aurelia allowed herself a glance over her shoulder, back over the lip of the carriage and in the direction of the Carline Canopy. Keveh’to, it seemed, had chosen to remain outside the chocobo paddock. He stood stiff and unmoving save for the tail that lashed erratically at the air, his hands shoved into his deep pockets and his mouth turned in a downward bow she could see even from here.

His words drifted across her mind like errant clouds.

I’ve waited too long. Saying it now won’t change anything.

She kept her gaze upon the dwindling figure until the carriage had rounded the bend and that splash of bright yellow was no longer visible through the foliage.

~*~

Watching the commotion below from his perch upon a flight of corrugated metal steps, Nero tol Scaeva knew what was coming next. The cohort’s work had come to a screeching halt and several of the engineers had gathered about to investigate the rear quarter panel of the left leg. None of them seemed to know what orders they were to give or be given if any, and the resulting confusion left them milling aimlessly about like ants puzzling at a stray piece of food someone had dropped on the floor.

Thus it fell to him to restore order, as much as he would rather not: his presence alone would subject him to fearful kowtowing and stammered excuses. He knew he could be a hard man when the situation called for it, but he liked to think he was also a fair one, and even the greenest of the signal corps had no reason to fear his wrath so long as they could explain themselves to his satisfaction. Still, he was a Garlean, and the provincial fear of his countrymen was deeply ingrained into the army's conscripts -- ingrained when it was not beaten.

No help for it, I suppose.

He made his way beneath the iron scaffolding that surrounded the warmachina's exoskeleton at a brisk pace. The clatter of his sollerets upon the metal tiling set an easy and unhurried rhythm as he crossed the open floor until his stride slowed to a full stop mere fulms away. The engineers’ chatter, quiet but idle, dwindled into an anxious silence.

One of the engineers, a tiny Auri woman with her lavender-tinted hair bound in regulation braids, went visibly pale at the sight of his approach but to her credit did not make a show of flinching from him, and even had sufficient courage to offer up a salute as was proper. He folded his arms over his chest and peered down at her through the visor of his helm. They stood close enough that he could see how her forearm - still stiffly crossed over her chest - trembled at his proximity.

“Architectus,” he said very calmly.

“Y-yes, my lord?”

“As you were,” she dropped her salute, but her back remained ramrod straight and the tension did not leave her shoulders. He continued as if he had failed to notice, “I mark a number of you performing a very serious study of this warmachina’s leg joint, in lieu of performing your assigned tasks.”

Her swallow was audible even through his helm’s transceiver, but her stone-faced stare did not waver. “Apologies, my lord. There is-”

“I believe I have stated on multiple occasions that we have a schedule to keep, and not a terribly lenient one at that. Perhaps the cohort is in need of a reminder.”

“My lord, please,” the woman blurted, then winced almost immediately, “I am sorry to interrupt. But you see, there’s a problem.”

Shite and swiving hellsfire, if I never hear ‘there’s a problem’ again in my lifetime it will be too soon. Still, unlike sas Junius it was not in Nero’s nature to vent his spleen upon hapless messengers. He released a long-suffering sigh instead - only somewhat dramatized for her benefit - and watched those large ocean-blue eyes break their impasse at the sound. They flickered nervously up at his face, then down, then back out to stare at that fixed point past his waistline.

“Of course there is,” he said aloud.

“My lord?”

His own fault, he surmised, for expecting any other response to his bit of japery. “Never mind. Continue.”

“Yes, my lord. We ran the initial tests using the Vanguard H-1’s specifications, as dictated. The operating system ran as expected upon startup. But when we tried to proceed with full activation... well, we tried to switch over from the H-1 but it caused a power surge and nearly started a fire- as you see here. As it is we’re dead in the water. She won’t power on at all now.”

“I assume our engineering teams ran down their checklists for aught that might have compromised structural integrity, prior to attempting the activation.”

“Just so, my lord. Circuitry, fuel lines, motherboards-- it was all green.” She bit her lip. “If… perhaps we might speak to the quartermaster and requisition another part. Or perhaps a larger-”

“The next step up would be the specs for a low-velocity assault craft,” Nero interrupted dryly. “While I share your readiness to explore all possible options, I think it unwise to blindly run through every single spare part at our disposal hoping for a result. Aside from the obvious risks, ‘tis inefficient. We do not have a great deal of time to make what amounts to an educated guess.”

“I- yes,” she stammered. “I apologize, my lord, I should have thought-”

He waved an impatient hand. She fell silent as instantly as if he had slammed a door shut in her face. “Who is your immediate superior?”

“Valens nan Varro, my lord.”

“Kindly inform him that the activation test has been delayed pending an internal review. We will reschedule after I have spoken with the legatus.”

Now she was staring at her feet, her face pale once again. “...He will be sorely displeased if he discovers we have failed you, my lord. Sorely.”

“Ah, yes. A terrible burden indeed, the primus architectus' personal inconvenience. Unfortunately, we shall all have to bear it,” Nero said briskly. He did not care to argue the matter with a subordinate; such behavior would undermine his authority, and the engineers present were well aware that his word was the final say.

“But-”

“If nan Varro is displeased with the decision and wishes to contest it, then he may take his grievance up with me directly.”

Her shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly, not in relief but defeat. Beneath his helm, Nero raised his brows at the response but said nothing further.

“Yes, my lord.”

“And I expect an incident report on my desk by 0700 tomorrow morning. Posthaste.”

Her answering salute was stiff and formal, expression as stony and unyielding as a statue’s. Whatever emotion he had spied was carefully hidden now; the wall was back in place. Curious. Irrelevant. He had neither the time nor the wherewithal to waste in wondering after it.

Nero passed her without another word, her fellows hastening to clear a path for him as he approached the enormous back leg. There were scorch marks on the edges of the chassis panel, he noted; exposed copper fibers trailed from the opened casing like wilted ivy creepers. The ends were blackened and a thin line of smoke still curled in slender lines; the smell was acrid and familiar and the castrum's ventilation system would disperse it within a half hour.

One hand hovered just over the scorched plate as he studied the sight, with a furrowed brow and pursed lips.

Retrofitting Allagan technology was not a precise art, as much as it pained Nero to admit it. Some artifacts worked so readily with Garlean magitek that the process was utterly seamless, as if it had been meant for their hands. Others were far more complex, and thus more time-intensive. The Ultima Weapon had been his longest project to date, and the tribunus laticlavius had to remind himself that the machina had been experimental even to the greatest scientists of its age: a groundbreaking anti-eikon countermeasure that partnered the arcane with the mundane. A seamless blending of aetherology and engineering, borne of man’s ingenuity.

Blended---

Ah.

“My lord?” a timid voice echoed at his back. The engineers were watching him; they had gathered a respectful six fulms away.

“...This is not a public spectacle,” his hand fell away from the plating. “See to this mess. I want the machina checked from top to bottom for aught that could possibly cause further delays. Exposed joints, chassis warping, blown fuses, exposed wires, all of it.”

"My lord, the test-" "Is no longer your priority," his impatience filtered through as a short, barked command. "Attend to your tasks. I will not ask you twice." The gathered cluster of engineers sketched their salutes and scattered like mice, scrambling to obey before any of them could experience the implied consequences for perceived insubordination. Nero watched them in silence for a few beats before taking his leave. He made his way back along the catwalk and up several flights of steps, to one of the administrative bays that oversaw the hangar. Once he was certain of his privacy, he removed his helm with a soft and relieved sigh. It was a mere press of a button after that to open the transceiver link and set it to a specific frequency. Static hissed in the confines of the empty office for one second, two, before the link became stable and there was smooth air and Gaius van Baelsar's gruff baritone:

“State your business.”

“Lord Gaius. Have I interrupted something?”

“Yes, but naught of particular importance. For a small blessing.” The legatus of the XIVth Imperial Legion sounded vaguely put out, but not irate. An encouraging sign which meant he was like to be at least somewhat amenable to the discussion Nero wished to have. “I take it you have something you wished to discuss.”

“I do. The activation test failed. I should have an incident report within the next 24 hours that will list the particulars.”

“Again?”

“Indeed. This is why,” Nero took a deep breath, “I should like to request that the Weapon and all hands involved in the project be transferred to the research facility in Agelyss Wyse.” “The Vylbrand coast? That is not exactly shouting distance from Gyr Abania. And there are certain dangers present which make your proposition quite risky.�� Refusal to take risks will not garner the results we seek. "With all due respect, my lord, you did not assign me this project with any fond hopes that I would remain complacent,” he could almost feel his commanding officer bristling at his bluntness, “and these failed tests have made it abundantly clear that - as you will recall that I posited, against protest from certain quarters - ceruleum combustion alone will not be sufficient to bring the Weapon back online. Not at full capacity.”

“What do you propose?”

“I will get to that eventually, but first and foremost: I need data. Current data. Simulations and conjectures will only get us so far.” He glanced out the bay window at the massive machina, a dormant monster, each opened claw the size of a juggernaut. “The Weapon was designed to do far more than subdue eikons, and we have merely scratched the surface of its capabilities. But scratching is all we will manage if we remain here.”

Nero managed - only just - to keep the excitement out of his voice. The Black Wolf of Garlemald was a straightforward man, he knew from long years of experience: interested in results, not theories.

“I understand this, but you are also asking to upend our timetable for the sake of a hypothesis.”

“A hypothesis with its foundation in the methods the Allagans used to create and maintain Dalamud- as Lord van Darnus would attest, were he still with us. I think it a safe assumption that the Ultima Weapon operates upon a similar methodology.” Van Baelsar’s only response was a sigh of consternation. Nero continued, “And yes, it would move our overall timetable forward a few weeks. I admit it.”

“Nearly two months,” the legatus said sourly. “You understand that even if I agree to your proposal, it is not something that can be immediately enacted.”

“I would not expect to presume thus, my lord, of course.” There was bureaucracy involved, and the logistics of moving entire teams between castra -- not to mention the machina itself. Well, Solus zos Galvus had not built the Empire in a day, either. “I realize there are protocols to follow. I only ask for consideration-”

“And due consideration will be given, tribunus- in due time. At the very least I must needs contact the Occidens praefectus and discuss the matter. We will speak on this anon.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He could afford the wait. In the meantime, there was much yet to be done- and new plans to be made. When the legatus called for him again, as he inevitably would, Nero would be prepared to explain what must be done ere their goals could be met. Allag’s mighty Weapon would awaken from its slumber by his hand, and he would receive his fair due at last. There was no one and nothing now to keep him from reaching forth to take what was rightfully his.

This victory shall be mine and mine alone, he thought. And you, old friend, will be as chaff in the wind. Discarded and forgotten.

Beneath his twin veils of tempered glass and chromed crimson steel, Nero tol Scaeva began to smile.

#aurelia laskaris #garlean warrior of light #keveh'to epocan #gaius van baelsar #nero tol scaeva #mother miounne #werlyt cameos sort of?#and the leveilleurs #you get a cameo! and you get a cameo!#this concludes reborn by fire #off to ARR we gooo #upon pale dawns #chapter 4

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eleanorbloom · 4 years ago

Text

When You’re Ready Ch. 18

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 7.4k (I’m making up for my almost three weeks of absence!)

Warnings: Angst, cussing and nudity. Rated T.

A/N: Please excuse me the fact that I’m mixing past and present tense in this chapter. I tried to write it all in past tense as usual, but it didn’t feel right aesthetically in some parts, so I just let it be XD

Taglist @utterlyinevitable @binny1985 @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268 @cinnamonspongecake @romewritingshop @bratzlahela @mrs-raleighcarrera @mercury84choices @curiousconch

______

Chapter 18: Into My Arms.

So keep your candles burning

And make her journey bright and pure

That she will keep returning

Always and evermore

Into my arms, O Lord

Bryce had never been a man of strong faiths, but he wasn't a cynical either.

He was just practical. He respected people who needed something to believe in, but preferred to put his beliefs in science because that's what was closer to infallibility compared to religion. After all, that's why he decided to become a surgeon, he believed in the power of medicine to heal people against all adversities.

However, he knew medicine wasn't enough. At least not when he's not the one holding the scalpel and giving everything he has to save a life, but holding the hand of the person he loves the most, and her life is hanging by a thread.

Doctors have medicine. They do everything they can with their knowledge and skills to save lives. But patients? All they have in the waiting is hope. And all they can do is pray.

After spending hours awake, not missing a single second of her breath, of her arterial pressure, of her oxygen levels, all the indicators that could assure him that she was alive, the passing of time inevitably starts kitting uncertainty upon him. Would it be enough? Will they do it on time? Will they do it at all? Because he knows the possibilities and limits of medicine. He knows that sometimes there won't be an answer, there won't be a cure, there won't be anything that could be done.

Sometimes, medicine is not enough and death is inevitable.

Bryce had never been a man of strong faiths, but he wasn't a cynical because maybe, just maybe, he was just waiting for the time he would need something to believe in. When his optimism and science combined wouldn't be enough. When the waiting would be so long, excruciating, and painful that he would need something to hold on to. A refuge.

Just like now.

Just like now when there's nothing left to do but pray.

To God, Allah, Buddha, Yahweh, Jehovah, Kāne.

"Please, please, let them find the antidote. Please, let them find it on time so Eleanor, Rafael, and Danny can survive. Please. Please."

There's no logic in asking the unseen something only medicine can give. But it doesn't hurt. It actually feels like a warm blanket that envelops in the middle of a tempest. At some point, it will soak with rain and it will no longer provide warmth, but it will do for a while. And that's all that he needs. Temporary comfort. Temporary faith to go through the night.

"Please protect her. Don't take her away. Don't take her away from me. Please. Please."

And then he begs like God is doing all this. As if they don't make the antidote, is because God moved his thread to not make it happen.

As if he needs to have someone to blame in case things go wrong.

Because blaming God is universal.

"They'll make it, they'll make it. They'll find the cure. She will live. They will live. Everything will be alright."

And then he just holds onto hope. He desperately forces himself to stay positive. To not think in a scenario where they don't make the antidote or where it's too late. And he tries to remain in that state, not daring to move his thoughts even a single inch, fearing that the slight movement could send him to the abyss. So he just locks himself in that state of mind. Hoping. Pleading.

Sunrise was dimly percolating through the blinds when a shriek startled him. Bryce turned his gaze, previously fixated in the monitor, and found Eleanor tossing on the bed, shuddering.

"Eleanor, what is it? I'm here, baby."—He asked, standing up from the chair and leaning over her, studying her reactions. Her breath was ragging and all of a sudden, she sat up, clutching her stomach desperately.

"It… Owww! It hurts so much…"

"What hurts?"

"My stomach and… my chest… My… My lungs and… heart…"

Her voice went mute and then hunched on the bed, her cries growing desperate.

"It's okay babe, take a deep breath."—He pated her on the back in a soothing way, hoping that the slow movement could ease her pain somehow.—"In half an hour someone from the team should come to administer the next dose of your treatment. How much it hurts? Do you think you can hold on?"

After a few moments, Eleanor nodded, thriving to breathe as deep and slowly as she could.

"Seven."

"Okay, you can do this, beautiful."

Bryce forced himself to take a deep breath too. Even if had passed several hours since Eleanor fell in that state, he could never get used to the idea of her suffering and not being able to do anything to stop her pain.

"Do you want some water?"

"Please."

Trying to ignore the lump in his throat, Bryce walked to the other side of the bed, poured a glass of water, and offered it to her, sitting behind her to give her support.

Eleanor received the glass and brought it to her mouth her hand quivering. Bryce hurried to place his own hand over hers to steady the glass and then watched her intently, waiting for her reaction.

A moment later, her eyes widened.

Fuck.

"What is it? It… it feels hot for you?"

She nodded, slowly and solemnly.

His whole body froze for a second.

"I'm doomed."

It was an affirmation, not even a complaint.

"Babe, you are not doomed. You're still standing, there's still time, and I'm sure the team will find the antidote soon."

"Stop this crap, Bryce. Let's be realistic here, it will be less painful for you in the … Owwww. Shit!"—Her face flinched and a hysteric sob escaped her mouth.—"Fuckkk, it hurts so much now…"

"How much?"

"A nine."

"I'll page Ramsey."

Bryce took Eleanor's pager and wrote frantically. He didn't know how he steadied his hands because his whole body was trembling, and his mind was feeling unbearably dizzy.

"COME NOW."

It had taken him just a few seconds paging Ethan, but when Bryce looked at Eleanor, her face was glistening with sweat and the only reason she was still staying upright on the bed, was because he was holding her from behind.

"I'm sorry Bryce… I'm… not strong enough."

"Baby don't say that. You're incredibly strong and brave."

Even through the latex, Bryce could feel how cold her body was, and when he placed a hand over her forehead, she felt even colder.

Desperate, he took her in his arms and placed her on his lap, cradling her protectively.

As she felt his warmth enveloping her, Eleanor curled up over him, grasping the fabric of his suit instinctively, and pressed her face to his chest.

He had never seen her this fragile and weak.

"I'm so tired…"

Her eyelids seemed heavy, making her incapable of keeping them open, but she was resisting, trying to see him through the window of his suit.

He looked into her chocolate eyes, tired and pleading, while he was tracing soothing circles on her temple.

"It will pass, babe, I promise. Ethan will put you to sleep, but please, please stay with me. Stay with me."

How much he wanted to place a kiss on her forehead and soothe her pain with his caresses, as so many times he had done before. When she was feeling sad, angry, frustrated, sick. He had always found a way to make her feel better.

But now…

The lump in his throat was so painful that he couldn't hold the tears anymore.

He felt so useless.

So hopeless.

He couldn't do anything right. He couldn't stop her pain, he couldn't find the antidote. And now he couldn't even hold his emotions and stay strong for her, while she was trying so hard to keep her eyes open and stay with him.

He was an utter fiasco.

And then… her body felt heavier in his arms and her grip on him loosed.

Bryce panicked.

"Babe?"—His voice was barely a whisper. He looked at the monitor, her vitals were dropping. —"Babe? Please…"

He didn't know if he was pleading to her or to the unknown.

"I'm… ssso…tired…"

His whole body relaxed when he heard her voice. She was still with him. She just couldn't with her body anymore.

He embraced her more tightly, pressing her head to his chest, and stroked her hair softly.

"Keep fighting, babe, I got you. You're doing great, gorgeous."

He didn't know how much time passed, but suddenly the sound of the decontamination tent door woke him up from his pleading state. When he looked up, Ethan was standing in the entry, frozen.

It was a shocking view, undoubtedly. Her body motionless in Bryce's arms, while he was fighting the sobs with pleading words.

"What happened?"

Baz asked, slipping behind Ethan, with an evident tremor in his voice.

Bryce cleared his throat and breathed deeply.

"She… Uh… experienced the hot-cold reversal a while ago and her pain has escalated. Started with a seven and now is a nine."

Only then Ethan could react, taking a step toward the bed, studying the bundle of bones curled up over Bryce's lap.

"Her vitals had dropped but are still better than Rafael's at the moment he fell into a coma."— June commented, inspecting the numbers in the monitor.—"Any other symptoms?"

"Cold sweat and loss of strength."

"Did she sleep?"

"Yes, about five hours. She woke up minutes before I paged."

June nodded, adding the new information to the chart.

"Eleanor, are you still with us?"—Baz asked, holding a needle with a crystalline liquid inside.

Eleanor hummed.

"Good. Excellent. I'm gonna administer a higher dose than last time, okay? This will put you to sleep and hopefully when you wake up the pain will have decreased."

Baz injected the dose into the IV. After a few minutes, when Bryce felt she had fallen into a deep slumber, he stood up and placed her on the bed, covering her with the duvet. Then, turned to Ethan, who was witnessing the whole process silently.

"Any progress with the antidote?"

"Yes. There's a chemical that we are synthesizing that seems to be our best option so far. We are expecting to have it ready in a couple of hours."

Bryce nodded, hope resurfacing again after such dark and tortuous hours.

After a few more exchanges, the Team left, leaving him alone again, praying with all his strength that the chemical is the answer.

Minutes feel like hours. And hours an eternity. His hand had gotten atrophied by holding hers, but letting her go isn't an option, scared that she might go if he leaves her even for a second.

He's drugged by fear.

"We did it!"

Bryce isn't sure if he's imagining it, if he's daydreaming about the moment when their friends and the team will find the cure, or if it's true. If it's really happening.

But when he sees Ethan entering the room again, his eyes glistening with pride and hope, smiling, he knows is not his imagination.

"We made an antidote."

It feels surreal. His whole body feels lighter and suddenly a burst of laughter attacked him.

Happiness, relief. Hope.

He knew there was a chance the antidote couldn't work. But he chose to believe it would.

And then he can't stop thinking about all the things they talked through the night. All their plans, all the places they would go, all the things they would do. All the things he would say to her, but he kept inside for fear.

All the love he had to give to her.

There was so much to explore and learn with her. Life was giving both of them a second chance. Not only to Eleanor but to him too.

And then all he can do is thank. Thank to whoever accompanied him through the night. To whoever held him and filled him with hope.

To whoever put a blanket over him, to keep him warm until he reached a shelter. A safe place.

Bryce was now full of hope and optimism. With the optimism he knows so well and that comes naturally to him. He's sure everything will be alright now.

And he thanks his friends and the doctors who helped. He knows words will never be enough to thank them for what they've done, but he decides to do it on the brink of his emotions, when they are more genuine, and retributions and gratefulness is all that people need after such a long night giving everything of themselves to find the antidote. To save the lives of their friends and colleagues.

The waiting in the next hours was nothing like the last one. They're full of hope.

Benjamin joined him in the room once he gave his parents the news. After a while he forced him, with the same persuasion and stubbornness that Eleanor would do, to take a break.

"Bryce, you should have some rest."

"I can't leave her side."

"I get it, I really do, but at least you should take some air, eat something, have a coffee. You haven't left the room in like ten hours. I'm sure you wanna be in your best conditions when Eleanor wakes up and not pass out of exhaustion after five minutes."

Bryce stared at Benjamin, the determination set in his eyes was the same he had found so many times in Eleanor's. Where would that come from? From their mother or their father? Hopefully, he was expecting to find it out that night.

An hour later, after catching up with his friends in the cafeteria and calling Keiki to give her the news, he returned to the room with renewed energy and a lot more confident than before.

It only takes him a minute to start talking with Benjamin as if they were old friends.

Hours flied by.

"Man, I'm not saying that Kobe doesn't have his merits, but let's be honest: without Michael Jordan, there is no Kobe."—Bryce stated, both sitting in chairs at the end of the bed.

"But we are not discussing who came first or their legacies, we are discussing objective facts. For example, Kobe beats Michael in career poin-"

"Shut up you two, we all know Lebron James is better than Michael and Kobe."

Bryce and Benjamin's eyes widened in shock and turned to the bed, where Eleanor was awake and smiling.

"Andrew! You're awake!"—Benjamin jumped up toward her side and hugged her affectionately. –"I'm so happy to see you okay, sis."

"And I'm glad to see you again, bebé."

Bryce sat on the other side of the bed and caressed her cheek.

"Hey, babe."

"Hey."—She smirked—"I should've asked you if you were team Kobe or team Jordan before agreeing to be your girlfriend but… I think it's too late to give you back now."

Bryce chuckled, giving Benjamin an amusing glance.

"I'm sure we'll be able to keep the debate on civil terms, right, Benji?

"Absolutely."

"How are you, beautiful?"

"I'm feeling… surprisingly good. Did they change the treatment?"

"No, must be the antidote that's working. And probably you're still high for the morphine."

"Did you say antidote?"

Eleanor was a mix of confusion and amazement.

"Yeah. The team created an antidote. They injected it like… about four hours ago."

"And why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because Baz put you to sleep, you don't remember?"

"No? What happened?"

Bryce looked at Benjamin who shook his head subtly.

"You were in deep pain, so Baz put a higher dose of morphine. It would have been like… humanly impossible to wake you up considering the dose."

Eleanor frowned.

"I don't remember any of it, honestly. How deep are we talking about?"

"You reached a nine, but the Team came quickly so you didn't suffer too much."

"A nine? Shit. That's pretty bad. Maybe that's why I don't remember a thing. "

"And you had a fever too."

She nodded.

"And how they did it? The antidote, I mean."

"In simple terms, they created a compound that binds to the maitotoxin and prevents it from attaching to the plasma membranes. So far has worked very well and your levels of the toxin had decreased significantly since the administration."

"And they beat the stupid Government. How embarrassing—She giggled., and how has worked with the boys?"

"They are still in a coma, but their levels had dropped too. Very slowly, though."

"I'm glad Danny is still with us. I really thought he would…"—Eleanor shook her head—"He's such a fighter."

"Yes. You all are, Elle."

"What about mom and dad, Benji? Have you spoken to them today?"

"Early in the morning, before they took their flight here. And luckily for them, they were at a stop in Lima when the news of the antidote came, so I texted them right away. They'll arrive at about 11 pm."

"Great. Great. Poor things, at least they are traveling knowing the worst has passed."—Benji nodded—"And you, kiddo, have had some rest?"

"Yeah, I could sleep a few hours during the night, but then I went to Lab to see how was the searching. It was really impressive watching all those brilliant minds working."

"Oh, yeah. I would've loved seeing Ethan working with Tobias. Those to hate each other, you know? I don't know how their egos fit the room."

Eleanor laughed, imagining the picture.

"And what about you, mister?"—He directed to Bryce—"I got the feeling you didn't sleep a wink last night."

"I didn't. I had to monitor you, but I went for a coffee and some food a few hours ago under the strict orders of my very good friend Benjamin."

"You're the best, Benji, thank you for taking care of him for me."— Eleanor squeezed his hand approvingly and blow him a kiss.—"Well then. Now that I'm feeling better, and under my strict orders, you're gonna go home, have some sleep, and spend a few hours with your sister, alright?"

"But babe... I ca-"

"Bryce Golden Lahela. I know you want to stay with me, and I swear if I were in your position I'd never want to leave your side, but please, pretty please, do this for me, okay? I bet you haven't seen Keiki since when…? the day before yesterday? Because I'm sure she was completely asleep when you left your apartment yesterday morning"

"Yeah, she was."—Bryce replied sheepishly.

Eleanor was still weak, and he could tell she was doing an incredible amount of effort to stay lucid and strong, but even like that, she had enough energy and strength to take care of him and Keiki. That selfless side of her would always marvel him.

"Please, I'd feel a lot better if you go to sleep and spend the afternoon with Keiki. But…"—She stared at him seriously and then her whole face transfigured in a wicked, almost psycho, smile—"If you don't do it, don't worry, honey, I won't be mad, but I'll kick you out of my room."

Benjamin giggled.

"Dude, do as she says. You know she means it literally, right? Because I'm already seeing her getting up from the bed and kicking your ass."

"Okay, okay, I'll go."—Bryce stood up from the bed, lifting his hands in surrender—"There's no need to use violence. Any special message for your beloved Keiki?"

"Yes, tell her I'm sorry I had to borrow his brother for too long and that I hope I can see her soon because I miss her."

"Yes ma'am."

When Bryce opened the door of his apartment, the smell of sauteed veggies gave him a warm welcome.

It'd always cheered him up having his sister receiving him when he got home, but today was different. Today he was grateful for having her after the living nightmare he had been into in the last 24 hours. Her sole presence was enough to soothe him.

"Bryce?"—Keiki poked her head out of the kitchen and then ran towards him.—"Ohmygod, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's okay, don't worry. Elle's awake and getting better. She's so well that…—He chuckled, collapsing on the couch.—" she made me come here to see you and have some sleep. She was worried you were too much time alone… And she's right, of course. I'm sorry Keiki, I know how abandoned you must have felt."

Keiki shook her head, sitting beside him.

"It's okay, Bryce. You needed to be with her, I totally get it. Not knowing what was happening was worse."

"I know."—He gave him a sad smile.

"Do you wanna have lunch? I have mashed potatoes pie in the oven. It should be ready in like twenty-five minutes."

"Ooh, are you serious? The one you cooked the other day? Because that was superb, Keiks"

"Yeah, the same. I actually was thinking about bringing you some to the hospital. I know you told me not to go, but…"—She gave him a sheepishly smile, shrugging, but before she could continue, Bryce hugged her, warm and tightly.—"Woah, woah, is just mashed potatoes and ground beef, no need to do such fuss."—She added instantly, patting him nervously in the back.

"Keiki, I was an ass with you for years, and now you're taking care of me like this? I don't deserve it."

"Nonsense. You know we are okay now, and you care a lot about me too, this is nothing."

Seeing Benjamin and Eleanor together had put a lot of things in perspective for him. How caring they were to each other had reminded him of his own relationship with Keiki before he moved to California. They were very close, so close, that he had no doubt that if he hadn't distanced himself the way he did, they wouldn't be much different from how Elle and Benji were.

Even if she was a six-year-old princess living in a fantasy world and he was a teenager soon-to-be a college student, they used to spend a lot of time together back in Maui. Entire days at the beach, swimming, playing hide and seek, playing tag, building sandcastles, doing races, finding forms in the clouds during the day, and looking at the stars at night.

He even learned about constellations just because she liked the stars.

But all that ended when he left and never came back.

He knew closeness and affection were still there, even if had passed ten years, even if she wasn't a kid anymore, but a teenager with a strong character that pretended to be too cool for affection. Because if it weren't like that, Keiki wouldn't have risked what she risked at coming to Boston. She wouldn't have forgiven him how she did weeks ago, and things wouldn't be as good as they were now.

After all those years, Bryce was still her refuge. The only person she could come to. And after all those years, Keiki still managed to bring out the best of him. She was making him thrive to become a better brother, a better man.

"What is it?"—She asked, as Bryce was staring at her tenderly.

"Nothing, I was just remembering those days at the beach. You were so little, and you're so grown up now… and you're even taking care of me when I should be the one taking care of you…"

She smiled sheepishly at him again.

"That's what siblings do."

"That's what I should've done in all these years and I didn't, and what I should be doing now…"

"Bryce, how many times I have to tell you…?"

"Okay, okay, I won't say it again. But… the thing is..."

He breathed. It wasn't easy for him. In fact, he used to avoid at all costs this kind of conversation because there were still a lot of issues he had to resolve with himself, but he felt like he had to say it now, without thinking it too much.

"What?"

"Look… I know things cannot be like they were before, but… I want you to know that you're the most important person in the world to me, Keiki, even if it seemed otherwise for ten years. Nothing has changed between you and me, okay?"

He didn't know how else to say it but in the way he was feeling it.

And for the first time in weeks, Bryce saw Keiki let her guard down. Her eyes swelled with tears at the mention of those memories at the beach, but after hearing his last words, her lips quivered.

"Okay,"—She said, wiping a tear from her eye—"But, gosh, what's gotten into you?"

What had gotten into him was that almost losing Eleanor also put a lot in perspective regarding how much he kept to himself. And he couldn't let that happen, let alone with Keiki. She deserved better. She deserved so much more than what their parents (poorly) had given to them, emotionally and affectively. He had to make things right, starting now.

"I love you, Keiki."—Before a sob could escape from her mouth, Bryce hugged her again, this time more tightly. –"Don't you ever doubt about it, okay? And please remember that, at heart, we are the same Bryce and Keiki playing on the beach. No matter the years."

He felt her fighting the sobs, but then she just let it flow.

"I love you too, Bryce."

Bryce breathed contently at hearing those words. That's all that he needed to hear.

After several seconds, Keiki parted from him, wiping the trace of tears off her face.

"This is a one-time bonding moment, right? Because if you're going to be this cheesy and make me cry everyday…"

Bryce chuckled.

"No, no. I know this is not your thing. This is just for today, a cathartic moment after what happened with Elle. But now we return to our regular sibling's relationship, where I'm obviously the cool one."

"HA! Dream on, Bryce. Let me inform you that today I award you with the title of the weirdest and most sentimental brother of the year."

He smiled fondly.

"I guess that makes me even cooler. I'm a total winner. Thank you, sis."

"No! You're the… You know what? Nevermind. After what you did yesterday with Kyra, and considering you're a very caring boyfriend with Ella, yeah, I'll let you be the cooler sibling, but only for this week."

"Oh, thank you for your generosity, loser."

Keiki rolled her eyes, and before sauntering to the kitchen, she ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Take a shower, weirdo. By the time you finish with all your beauty care routines, lunch will be ready."

He wasn't sure how many times he'd pleaded for that moment, how many times he'd imagined it on his mind, but it was finally happening. And it felt a thousand times better.

Bryce opened the door of Eleanor's room just as he had arrived at Edenbrook. With a navy-blue hoodie, light-blue jeans, and black and white sneakers. No hazmat suit, no gloves, nothing.

She was asleep. Her chest was moving harmoniously under the sheets, and the vitals on the monitor were almost on normal levels.

She was alright.

He walked to the other side of the bed and carefully laid behind her, placing an arm around her waist. She wasn't as cold as in the morning but still wasn't at her usual warmth. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and breathed deeply, smelling the natural scent of her body mixed with some very faintly remnants of her shampoo. The sweetness of the pomegranate added even more joy to the fact she was safe.

His hot breath must have woken her up because, after a few seconds lost in her scent, she started stirring on the bed until she finally turned around and faced him.

"I'm dreaming? Why you're not using the hazmat suit?"—She muttered in a slurry voice, looking equally surprised and confused.

He smiled, sliding his index over her cheek softly.

"No, you're very much awake. And safe. Toxin-free safe."

"Toxin-free? Are you for real?"

"Absolutely, the last two blood tests have shown you have no traces of the toxin in your bloodstream."

"Oh my god, I can't believe it… I thought I would die here…"

"And I told you you would live."

"Yeah, and I've never been happier to be wrong."

They both chuckled

"And I've never been happier to be right."

After a moment, Eleanor started caressing his just shaved and very smooth cheek, but suddenly, she stopped, staring at him expectantly.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Are you gonna kiss me or not?"

"I was just letting you contemplate me, I'm sure you missed touching this flawless skin."

She snorted.

"I know last night I said I don't find you cocky anymore, but I can change my mind any minute, you know?"

"But you won't."

Bryce parted from her slightly and took his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. He scrolled a few seconds and then a piano melody started playing.

"Is that…?"

When I fall in love it will be forever

Or I'll never fall in love

"You said you wanted a kiss just like Isabella's…"

"Oh my god, I should've known you'd do this."

She placed her hands around his neck.

"The problem is… If I remember this right… you were the one who kissed me that night…"

"Yes, now you will. Period. You're talking too much."

"Now you realize I talk too much?!"

"Bryceeeeeee"

He laughed heartly.

"Okay, okay, miss impatience..."

Bryce tightened the grip around her waist and placed a hand over her cheek. After a few seconds of looking deeply into her amber eyes, he brushed his lips over hers. It was sweet and slow at first, but then he deepened the kiss, capturing her lips in his teeth and playing with her tongue just as she liked it.

Eleanor wanted a kiss like the one at Isabella's, but so much had changed since then, so much he had learned since then.

He knew the way she liked his kisses, how much pressure to use or how deep his tongue could go, so he was going to give her exactly that, a dreamy kiss, because honestly, he didn't know any other way.

After several seconds, he parted from her.

"Happy now?"

"Mmm… I'm not sure… Maybe you can give me another taste?"

He shook his head and kissed her again, harder. And this time he left her breathless, and giggling, and with the goofiest smile he had ever seen in her.

"Wow. 100/10."

"I'm amazing, I know."

And then, she couldn't help but look at him adoringly. Because yes, yes, he was indeed amazing. And she was completely in love with that amazing man.

"Te amo."—She said with warm candor, and then kissed him enthusiastically and incessantly for several seconds. –"I love you... god, I love you so much… Telling I was in love with you… without being able to kiss you… was a nightmare! But now I can... Finally…Kiss you…As much… as I want…"

Once she stopped, Bryce looked at her, marveled.

"What? Too much?"

He shook his head, biting his lower lip.

"No, it's perfect. Feel free to act like that whenever you want."—He kissed her forehead—"I love you, beautiful."

After receiving the official information from Ethan, June, and Baz, and being filled with kisses and hugs from Benjamin, Bryce wheeled her to her new room so she could take a shower. She didn't want to spend another second in that damned room.

"This is mine?"—Eleanor asked, inspecting the light blue bag over the bed.

"Yeah, I swung by your apartment before coming here, I thought you would need some fresh clothes."

Eleanor stood up with difficulty and wrapped him in her arms lovingly.

"Thank you, my love."

He smiled, melting by the words, but before he could say anything, she clung to him clumsily. Her legs failed her.

"Mmm, I think someone's going to need some help in the shower."

"Ooops, too bad that someone has a boyfriend with magic hands to help her."—She replied teasingly.

"C'mon, princess."—He whispered, picking her up in his arms and taking her to the bathroom.

Once he collected her shampoo and conditioner from the bag, he returned to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

When Eleanor looked up at him, he felt the air changed instantly.

It's the intimacy.

The formula is simple. It has always been simple between them. It's just the two of them present at the moment. Whether they're alone or in a group, it doesn't matter. It can happen anywhere. It could be just an intense look; a simple touch; even a hug without saying a word. They only need to be focused on each other.

Bryce took a few steps until his lips were inches apart from hers. His hand took with precision the hook of her gown, and after untangling it, he threw it to the floor.

When his hands touched her waist, her whole body trembled, and a soft moan escaped her mouth, but soon she shut herself up by kissing Bryce delicately, sinking a hand under his shirt, craving for his skin. He conceded to her desires instantly, of course. After tugging his hoodie and shirt out, Eleanor roamed her hands roam over his bare chest, and leaving a trail of kisses up his chest, until she reached his jaw.

The heat radiating from his body had always soothed her. Even before realizing she was in love with him, being in his arms was her favorite place in the world. But when Bryce pulled her closer, enveloping her arms around the small of her back, and pressed her body flush to his, this time, Eleanor felt like she was coming home.

He wasn't her favorite spot anymore.

He was her home.

The supreme feeling of comfort and tranquility. A safe haven where she could be herself and where she's the happiest.

And where she can be at her lowest too. So she let it all go.

She let go of all her fears, all the what-ifs that had been torturing her mind; all those questions wondering how much she would've missed…

Millions of kisses and hugs; thousands of showers together; thousands of hours of amazing sex; thousands of nights talking, drinking, dancing. Adventures. Movies, movies interrupted by his unstoppable talking, by his kisses, by his innuendos. Sleepovers on the couch with Keiki. Countless moments just staring at each other without saying a word, because sometimes even for Bryce words wouldn't be necessary.

She wouldn't have lived the life she wanted to have with him. The future she wanted with him. She couldn't have known him as she always wanted, with all his wonders and terrors.

A sob echoed in the immaculate bathroom. Bryce gripped her more firmly to calm her shaky body.

The idea of dying with so much left to give was devastating.

Because she was so full of love. The moment she realized she was in love with Bryce she felt like she was going to burst. When she told him she was in love, she was choking with words because her heart inside was bursting with her purest feelings and sensations. And thinking that she could've died without giving him everything she wanted to give him, without giving him everything he deserved, was maddening.

Even if it was in the past, the fear was still too vivid.

"Let it go, love, I got you"—He whispered, his hands always drawing soft patterns on her head and back.

Love.

She could've missed that too. Bryce calling her love. Bryce calling her in so many ways.

She had always wished for a beautiful love, just like their parents had, but for some reason, it was always out of her reach despite her best efforts. And she could've died without experience it to the fullest with him. With the most wonderful person in the world.

Eleanor wrapped him more tightly, as if she's scared that he could go any minute now.

"I'm here for you and I'll always be, babe. We have now a whole life ahead of us to do everything we dreamed last night, that and much more."

How? How could he know what she was thinking? How he could know her so well?

"But… we need to start somewhere, right?-- —He whispered, pulling her gently from him.—"We need to start with something small."

He looked into her puffy and reddened face and wiped the tears off her face.

"We'll start with a shower. You need to get rid of all the traces of that fucking toxin. You'll let me take care of you, and then, if you want, we can make a visit to see Kyra and the rest of our friends, who must be waiting for you expectantly to fill you with hugs and tons of love."

"I'd like that."—She replied softly.

"Perfect."—He said before leaning in the shower to turn the faucet on.

After a few seconds, Bryce led her to the shower, and both hummed at the feeling of the hot water running through their bodies. Then he turned and looked at her, deeply.

"Are you feeling better, gorgeous?"—He asked softly and sweetly

"Yeah, so much better. Thank you, my love."

He chuckled and then bit his lower lip.

"God, I love it when you call me like that"

"My love? Well, you are my love."

"Yeah, I guess it's just that… now I understand why you were so reluctant to all this pet name situation."

"Yup, I wanted to say it just when I was 100% sure I was in love with you."

"Makes sense. Now I feel guilty for being too annoying with it."

"You're a Goldie, being annoying is part of your DNA."

He raised an eyebrow, seriously.

"But don't worry, my love is my main pet name for you now. And mi amor. Or maybe you prefer that in the first place?"

Bryce narrowed his eyes, thoughtfully.

"Tough question. I like that too, Spanish sounds so sexy in your mouth."

She smiled mischievously and then planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Te amo, mi amor"

"Feel free to call me however you want, but I'm warning you, I feel things when you speak to me in Spanish."

"What kind of things, mi amor?"

Bryce roamed his hands over her back until he reached her tights. Then, he lifted her effortlessly in his arms and pushed her against the wall.

"Things that… "—He kissed her hard.—"even if it's tempting to do here, I'll save it for another time. I'll create a whole kink of you speaking in Spanish in the meantime"

"Mmm, a new kink. My, oh my. I'll exercise my pronunciation, then, because it has gotten a little rusty over the years."

She kissed him hard this time, pressing her legs and heels against his back.

"Okay, as much as I want to keep going, let's slow it down, babe. We should be doing some cleaning, you know? Or you'll stay as a koala indefinitely?"

She giggled.

"Yes, I'm a koala now."

"Oh, well, then thank you for simplifying me the choice. I was always divided between calling you a sloth or a koala, but koala is perfect. It wouldn't be too romantic of me calling you a sloth."

Both cackled.

"Only in the bed."

"Specify that? In bed like sleeping or like…—He raised his brows suggestively.

"I'm multifaceted, I can be both."

Bryce chuckled.

"Of course you can, babe."

Eventually, Eleanor gave up her dream of remaining as a koala forever and returned to her feet.

Bryce took the shampoo and massaged her scalp softly and dedicatedly, relaxing her. His hands were magical in so many ways.

Then he helped her clean some parts of her body she couldn't reach, teasing her once in a while, until she was all cleaned.

Once he dried himself up and put his clothes on, he helped Eleanor getting out of the shower and took her back to the room.

He dried her skin delicately. At first, she tried to dress up by herself, but the shower had relaxed her so much, that Eleanor finally gave up, letting Bryce taking care of her as he wanted.

Even if she was feeling a little sleepy, that didn't stop her from feeling amazed with his dedication and the tenderness with whom he was pampering her.

His soft hands spread ever so softly the cream over her arms and legs, and the massaged her so exquisite on her back, that after a while she wondered if she was actually dead and that was heaven.

Once she was all moisturized and dressed in a mint green pajama, he took the towel wrapped around her head and began combing her hair softly and delicately. At some point, she felt like she was six again, when her mum would bathe her and then comb her long wavy hair patiently until she was free of knots.

"Gosh, you could be a stylist or a massagist, and you'd do it wonderfully."—Eleanor moaned, feeling his fingers combing her hair as Bryce was directing the hairdryer to the nape of her head.

"Of course, I'd be wonderful in anything I pursue, especially with these magic hands."

After five minutes, her hair was completely dry.

"Ponytail or braid?"

"Braid."

She was about to lift her hands to make herself a braid when Bryce asked.

"French or normal?"

She turned around with her mouth agape.

"Wait, besides all your many talents, you also know how to braid?"

"Yeah, you didn't know?"—He chuckled

"No! When did you learn?"

"When Keiki was like… four?—Bryce replied as he was dividing her hair into three sections.—"She's always been bossy, you know? And one day after a day at the beach her braid was a mess, so she said: Bryze, fixit! You're a grown-up, you shud know how to braid hair... And of course, she was right! How incompetent of me not knowing how to braid hair, right? Especially since I had a little sister with very long hair."

"Awww, love, this is so cute! Little Keiki asking for a braid. I'm melting."

A couple of minutes later, Bryce took the hair bun from his wrist and use it to secure the end of the braid.

"There, my princess. All done."—He announced, kissing her crown.

Eleanor brought a hand to her hair and felt the patterns with her fingers.

"This is perfect."

"Why the tone of surprise? Of course it's perfect! I don't do anything that's below perfection."

"I know, I'm just admiring your beautiful work, love."

Bryce gathered all her things and placed them in the closet.

"Ready to see our friends?"

"Honestly? Not yet.

"Hey, you don't have to go if you don't want to. Do you want me to call the guys?"

"No, no… besides I have to go to see Kyra."

"But you don't have to if you don't feel in the mood for that."

"I know, I just want to lay down a bit with you."

"Of course, babe"—He replied, laying beside her.

Eleanor turned to his side.

"I'm completely melted inside, you know?"

"Why?"

"For the way you've taken care of me, how you pampered me… you even braided my hair…"

"It's the less I can do for you, babe. This is nothing, actually."

She kissed him on the lips and then rubbed the tip of her nose on his.

"You know, if boyfriend lottery exists, I'm sure you're the biggest prize in history, and I'm the lucky winner."

Because she could win the biggest money prize in history, but not even that could compare to the feeling of having Bryce loving her.

Nothing compares to it.

______________________

A/N2: Make Bryce even more perfect than he already is? Achievement unlocked. Like I love to hurt him (I love angst, actually) but I also love to make him more perfect and more god-tier than he already is. Pure self-indulgence here.

A/N3: As you can see, I'm cheesy/corny not only in romantic relationships but in fraternal relationships too. I have a good relationship with my brother, in fact, we have the same age difference Keiki and Bryce have, so I know firsthand the kind of relationship they could have. And I want to give them that, despite their personalities and the fact that maybe Americans, in general, are not as caring as we the Latinos but… being this caring is something you can learn, you know? So Bryce is learning that from Eleanor. Anyway, it won't be easy, Keiki and Bryce have a lot of issues to explore yet, but Bryce had to take the first step.

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate each and every one of you for supporting my story ❤❤❤

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #bryce x casey #open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #choices #choices stories you play #playchoices #pixelberry

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shortprince-cos · 4 years ago

Text

When You Fall, You Get Back Up

Summary: Patton finds himself on the forest floor, and he can't get up. Luckily, he finds someone who can help him.

Ship: Intruality

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, angst.

Warnings: Attempted suicide, impalement (only a bit), broken arm, IV, ambulance, child abuse. Tell me if I need to add anything else!

This fic is inspired by the musical Dear Evan Hansen, because I have a lot of feelings and couldn't help myself.

~~~~~

The forest looked beautiful from up so high.

Patton secured himself on a thick branch and took in the view. He had climbed about 2/3 of the way up the tree. He was so high up. If he fell, it would hurt. Bad. He should try not to fall.

But he ended up on the ground.

It didn't hurt immediately. He just lay there in shock for a couple of minutes. The fall happened so quickly, it was hard to even process that he hit the ground.

Until the shock wore off and the pain kicked in.

His entire left side hurt, that must have been the side he landed on. He felt like he couldn't catch his breath, like the air was taken from him.

The side of his head had something in it. His glasses. They must have broke and pierced his skin.

Patton gasped for air while so many tears traveled down his face. He was whimpering so much, he probably sounded like a hurt animal.

That actually is what he was. A hurt creature in the forest, calling and crying and sobbing for someone to help.

He tried to lift his left arm, but pain shot through him like a dagger going straight through his skin. Something impaled his arm.

He just kept whining. Hoping and calling and praying for someone to find him.

Just like that, Patton heard a voice. "Holy s**t! Are you ok?!" Apparently praying works sometimes.

Patton only squeaked in response. He couldn't even see who came to save him, his eyes were clouded with tears, it made everything blurry and wobbly.

"Oh my god! Your arm! That's so gross and cool! ...Sorry that's not cool right now. Um- do you have anyone you need to call before the ambulance gets here?"

Patton shook his head, but stopped when the pain of the glasses hit.

"Oh fu- that looks painful." The stranger was about to take the glasses off before he decided that the doctors should probably do that.

"Do you have a name?"

Patton opened his mouth, but only a whimper came out. Air was slowly coming back, but the tears were stubborn.

"Oh god- ok- um- the ambulance is on their way. Can- can you breathe ok?"

Patton nodded. It was only a small, lean down, kind of thing, but the kind stranger got the memo.

"Ok- um...do you mind if I take pictures? I'm a gore makeup artist for short films and s**t, and you don't see these kind of wounds everyday! They'll make really good reference pictures! Of-of course, only with your permission?"

Patton didn't understand what was so strange about his wounds -the thought that they were abnormal was a bit distressing- but he nodded anyway, giving the artist permission to take a photo.

Patton soon heard the wailing of sirens in the distance.

"Ok, the ambulance is here. How are you doing? Can you talk now?"

Patton's throat had a massive lump in it, but he somehow managed to speak a little.

"I-'m Pat-Patton."

"I'm Remus." The man- uh- Remus called over to the emergency team so that they could come and help.

Soon, he was put on a stretcher to be carried to the ambulance.

As he was put in the ambulance, the emergency nurses were discussing something about Patton's arm and head.

Remus ended up riding with him to the hospital. Patton didn't understand why he felt the need to, it certainly couldn't have been required.

"Ok, what's your name and age?" One of the nurses questioned while grabbing something.

"P-Patton Hart. Sevente-teen." Patton managed to get out.

"Ok, date of birth?" The nurse filled a container with a syringe with a clear liquid, some kind of medicine? Patton didn't know much about doctor stuff, so everything that was happening was confusing.

"January fifteenth, 2003."

Remus suddenly put his hand on Patton's shoulder, which meant something was about to happen. Patton didn't like any of this.

The nurse walked over to the right side of Patton, and cleaned a spot on the middle of his arm with an alcohol wipe.

"Ok, how did you break your arm?"

"I-" The nurse put the IV in. Patton hated needles. They scared him to death. Even thinking about getting shots could give him a panic attack.

Remus squeezed his shoulder a little harder. Soon, Patton felt so tired.

---

Patton's father did not like paying that hospital bill.

"How could you be so idiotic, that you fell out of a f**king tree? It was a tree, god d**n it!"

"I'm sorry, I-" His father slapped him across the face. Hard.

"You're lucky you still live here." And with that, Patton's father left him alone. For now.

Patton walked upstairs to his room and shut the door. He crawled under his bed covers, just hoping that he could sleep through the rest of his life.

'You can end it now.' Patton thought. 'All you have to do is get the pill bottle.'

He was about to get up until his phone rang. It was an unknown number, most likely a scam, but Patton answered anyway.

"Hello?" Patton tried to keep the wavering out of his voice.

"Hey, Patton? It's Remus! Ya know, the guy who found you earlier!"

"Oh! Hey! Why-why are you calling me?" Patton was a bit confused as to why Remus would even want to speak to him again, but he tried to put that in the back of his mind.

"I just wanted to see if you were alright. I mean- you did fall from a tree, that had to hurt!"

"I-I guess. I'm...I'm ok though."

"Good! Anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime? You seem like a pretty cool person, so I thought 'ehh why not?'!"

"Uh- sure! That sounds like fun!"

"Cool! Talk to ya later?"

"Yeah. Bye!"

Is this how you make friends, or is Patton delirious from the pain medication?

---

Three months go by faster than you think.

It felt like yesterday when Patton fell to the ground.

"Patton? Can I talk to you?" Remus asked as they were watching TV.

They had movie nights pretty frequently. It was a fun pastime that they both looked forward to.

This week, they were in Remus' house, instead of going to an actual movie theater, but Remus was acting a little strangely this whole time. He seemed...nervous? Patton didn't understand, but now Remus was asking him to talk?

"Sure. What's up?" Patton asked wearily. Remus' question frightened him.

'This is it. He's done being my friend. He was just hanging out with me out of pity. But now he's bored and wants to go back to his own life.' Those were the thoughts running through Patton's mind.

"I-I just wanted to ask if you- well if you..." Remus pulled a beautiful silver locket out of his pocket. "If you...wanted to be my boyfriend?"

Patton was stunned.

"I-" Patton took in a shaky breath. He needed to tell Remus...but Remus would never stay if he told him the truth. He would leave, just like everyone else did when they found out.

...Maybe if this stopped now, it wouldn't hurt as much.

"Remus, I-" Patton sighed. "You can't date me."

Remus expression changed from nervous excitement, to confused sadness.

"W-What? Why not?"

"You don't want to be with me, I'm-" Patton stood up and took a deep breath before continuing. "You don't want to date someone who lies and deceives and fakes."

Remus tried to protest, but Patton left without another word, only tears on his face.

---

Patton had gotten his cast off a week ago. It had been at least two weeks since he rejected Remus.

Before long, Patton found himself back at the tree that he dropped from.

He looked up at how tall it was. He sighed before walking up to the trunk.

'Climb it.' Said the voice. The voice that was always in the back of Patton's head. It was louder now that Remus wasn't with him. Just like when he was here the first time.

Patton almost obliged, before he heard a voice from behind him.

"Patton? Why are you here?" Remus. Why did he have to come?

He always comes.

"I-I just-"

"What are...you doing?" Remus looked like he just solved some kind of puzzle. "You- that's-" Remus gasped a little. "You didn't fall."

"What? Of course I fell, how else would I have broken my arm?"

"No, I mean-" Remus took in a shaky breath. "You jumped, didn't you?"

Patton physically tensed at the words. "N-No. I- I didn't- couldn't-"

"Did you? Did you jump, or let go, or-or-"

"No! No- I-I didn't-" Patton tried to defend himself...but he didn't even know the truth.

Actually, he did. Deep down he did, he just didn't want to admit it.

"Patton! Why did you climb that tree?!"

"WHY DO YOU THINK? I DID IT TO DIE!" Patton screamed at Remus, hot tears running down his face.

Remus was shocked. He didn't know what to do knowing that-that Patton could have died.

"Is that the answer you wanted? Because yeah, I came here to die. But then, I-I fell and-and broke my arm. And now, I'm here, trying to-to do it again." Patton was shaking violently, hugging himself to try and stop the trembling, the tears still sliding down his face.

Remus basically ran to him. He took Patton in his arms and tried to calm him down.

Oh god. What now?

---

About a half hour later, Patton could breathe normally again.

Remus and Patton were sitting on the forest floor, Remus had Patton in his lap, almost cradling him.

"Patton?"

"'m sorry."

"It's..." Remus wanted to say that it was ok, but it wasn't. "What's done is done. All we can do now, is try to get better."

Patton buried himself into Remus' chest. "Ok."

"Patton?"

"Yeah?"

"You will get better, I promise."

"...How?" Patton's voice sounded so broken and hollow and empty.

"I'll help you. I'll make sure you do."

Patton shook his head. "You won't want to stay, nobody ever stays."

"I want to. I will. I promise." Remus ran his hands through Patton's hair, hoping to comfort him in some way.

Patton sobbed into Remus' shoulder. Cries that have been held in for way too long, sobs that Patton had buried deep inside himself.

After a while, Patton's sobs died down a little, he must have been too tired to keep crying.

"Patton?" Remus asked.

"Mm?" Patton was still hugging Remus, he was probably almost asleep. He seemed so tired.

"It might be a little early for this, but I love you."

Patton hugged him a little tighter. "I-I love you t-too."

~~~~~

Sorry for more angst, Hahaha I can't stop myself

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Reblogs are appreciated! 💖

#kawaiikat54 fic #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #tw suicide #tw suicidal thoughts #ts patton #patton sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #ts intruality #intruality

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silverhandy · 4 years ago

Text

House call - chapter 2

Chapter 1 I ao3

Through his career, he’s been to a lot of places of varying degrees of decay, from the long-abandoned hotels subjected to evergoing gang disputes to the city’s garbage dump stretching miles upon miles outside of the city, a sea of trash and metal, often twisted into unrecognizable shapes, piling up into mountains, where every step meant a very real risk of slipping and impaling himself on a rust-bitten shard. Hidden in between were those unfortunate enough to end their journey in a place like this, abandoned by their rivals or hitmen too lazy to attempt hiding a body within the guts of the city. If they had a working car, and almost all of them did, it was way easier to just drive whatever was left of their target and dump it to be devoured by rats and whatever else evolved enough to survive in a place like this. Sometimes they wouldn’t even bother to check if the person they were leaving there was actually dead, hence the reason why he’d sometimes get calls begging him to fish a guy (or lady) down on their luck out. He found himself digging through trash more often than not, futile in his attempts to pinpoint his awaiting patient’s location. When he was starting out, the thought of giving up his search wouldn’t even cross his mind, he’d spend hours looking, even dragging along metal cutters with him, figuring they’d come in handy. They probably would’ve if not for the fact that he often wasn’t even able to find the person who called him, localization data too patchy to give him a solid lead on where he should even start.

After a while, when he established himself and lost some of his rookie idealism, he put in a disclaimer that he wouldn’t go trash diving anymore, no matter the pay. A small step, but even at the beginning he tried to have standards.

V’s apartment was far from Night City’s biggest trash dump, but something about the chaos within it reminded him of that when he switched on the lights. As if the hurricane had swept through the place, some of the furniture was tilted over, a pile of clothes, dangerously balanced on an overfilled laundry basket, threatened to collapse and spill over at any moment. A half-finished box of noodles laid abandoned on the counter, accompanied by a mosaic of pills from a knocked over bottle.

Viktor found V curled up on the floor next to her bed, wearing a washed-out Samurai t-shirt and sweatpants, covers dragged along with her halfway between the linoleum and the mattress. He could barely see her face from the way she was bundled up. V didn’t move upon hearing his footsteps, didn’t even flinch when he kneeled next to her and reached out a hand to touch her shoulder.

The ripper dropped the heavy bag at his side and gently cupped V’s face in his hands, wincing at how burned up the woman’s skin was, and turned it so he could take a quick glance. V’s eyes were rolled far back into her skull. Viktor started to have an idea of what he was dealing with here, has seen the wreckage that offensive hacking can cause many times before. They usually started out slow, identical to a bad case of flu but then, if dismissed, proceeded to stir fry one’s brain until not much was left.

Viktor opened his bag and pulled out a small, remote biomonitor. It took a few seconds to fully calibrate, but eventually, the screen lit up.

‘V, can you hear me?’ he asked, not counting on her to answer. 'I’m going to connect your personal link now and see what’s going on in there, okay?' he reached for her wrist, already feeling her racing pulse, and connected it to the device. While it was loading, Viktor propped it up on the wall and grabbed V to lay her on her back to make the job easier for himself, and pulled out a few small gel-filled Ice-Pax. He knew she probably needed more, but those will have to do for now.

Just as Viktor placed two under her arms and another on her groin, the monitor beeped. He reached over her to grab it and swiftly ran a basic diagnostics program, but save for the things he already knew, it didn’t spew out anything interesting. She was vastly overheated and her blood pressure shot up to a point where an angrily red window kept popping up to inform him of a 72% percent chance of an incoming cardiac event, but he dismissed it for now. Instead, Viktor chose a different angle and ran a more advanced version of the program, letting it comb through V’s frontal cortex and RAM.

‘There’s the rub’ he hummed to himself as the program kindly highlighted the results. He let out a long sigh. If V had come to see him a day earlier, he’d fix it in five minutes and she wouldn’t even notice, but now she’ll be out of commission for at least a week before she can even get out of bed. He’ll have to tell her a thing or two about responsibility, not that she’d listen to him anyway. Patients never did, but it still might be worth a shot.

Viktor typed a few commands to enclose the scrambled code from her RAM and before pulling out V’s personal link, copied her real-time vitals chart onto his interface. After it appeared within his field of vision, he pulled out a worn-out connecting cord that he’s been promising himself he’d replace for ages now and inserted it into the neural port at V’s nape to get a better working field, now that he knew what the problem was. RAM damages were problematic in their very nature but pretty easy to fix once caught, not much of his medical knowledge needed. Viktor simply fired up what ripperdocs tended to call a “palate cleanser” and let it do the work, putting back together what the bug has managed to break.

While the program was fixing up V’s tech, Viktor got to work on her body. Flipping the ice packs, he took a quick glance at her temperature and was glad to see that it had started to slowly go down, followed by her pulse and blood pressure, all three leaving the life-threatening territory. None of them were quite to his liking just yet, but at least now Viktor was sure V would pull through. Reaching into his bag, he eventually found an IV set, but decided it’d be better to move her onto the bed first, sparing himself all the gymnastics with the tubing and cables. Minding the biomonitor still plugged into her, Viktor leaned down to lift V and put her on the bed. She was quite heavy, the dead weight of her limp body adding to the feeling, but he didn’t even break a sweat carrying her. Taking the covers from the floor, he put them on her, straightening the wrinkled material intuitively.

Having done that, Viktor grabbed her arm and carefully inserted the needle. To his relief, it went in on the first try. Glad he didn’t need to poke her any more than necessary, Viktor looked around and realized that V didn’t have anything even remotely resembling an IV stand, but when he looked up, he noticed a small hook, probably remains of a poster frame, conveniently placed over the bed. Stepping up on the edge of the bed frame, he placed the bag there, and after making sure that everything was in place, let it drip. That should do the job, maybe paired up with a shot of dopabenzamine if she won’t improve in the next few hours.

Viktor let out a deep sigh of relief, feeling as if he’s been holding his breath ever since V called. Biomonitor’s estimated time kept shifting but eventually settled on six hours and twenty-three minutes. Viktor nodded to himself and turned around to take another look at the mess that V’s apartment has turned into. He leaned down and reached under the covers to grab the unpleasantly warm ice packs, and throw them in the freezer, wondering if he should clean up, just a little bit. Would V get mad at him for snooping around? Then again, she’ll need a few days to recover and this ever-growing mess around her surely won’t help. Or should he ask Misty? They were closer, he was pretty sure that she’s been over at V’s place at some point.

Maybe he shouldn’t be overthinking this. Just a little bit, he told himself as he gathered the pills spilled on the counter, inspecting the label while he was at it. Strong shit, impossible to get by simply waltzing into a pharmacy. Viktor made a mental note to ask about it later, just to make sure that V doesn’t swallow these like candy. Of course she doesn’t, he reprimanded himself. She’s an adult, a stupid, reckless one, but an adult nevertheless. It still won’t hurt to bring it up, though.

He put it back into the medicine cabinet and returned to the kitchen to deal with the noodles, and since they were on the verge of no longer being edible, he just tossed them into the trash can, along with other unfinished takeout he found in various places around the apartment. He didn’t want to snoop through V’s things, so he just folded the clothes that were sprawled all over the floor and couch and put them in a neat pile. When he was done, the place looked somehow presentable, so he settled on the couch opposite V’s bed.

She appeared to be sleeping, although far from soundly. No longer completely unconscious, she kept tossing and turning, her face grimacing as her recovering brain no doubt served her a concoction of fever dreams.

Just as Viktor leaned down to relax a little, he heard a ping of an incoming text message. He pulled it up

Misty

>that lady from Biotechnica is here to see you again, but you don’t seem to be in, what should I tell her?

>Tell her to fuck off

>I’m at V’s and have to stay for a few more hours, she screwed herself up real bad this time

>oh no what happened>

>I’ll tell you all about it later, I got it covered for now

He fully expected Misty to call him, alarmed, but apparently, he managed to reassure her just enough. He leaned back and closed his eyes, just for a second, but must’ve dozed off at some point, exhausted after over twenty hours without a chance for a shuteye. When he woke, a groan escaped his lips as the stiffness of his neck hit him with full force.

That’s what you get for sleeping sitting up, old man, he told himself as he reached to grab his glasses off the floor. They must’ve slipped off at some point during his nap. Viktor stood up and stretched until he heard his joints crack. Still tired, he rubbed his eyes in a futile attempt to wake himself up and walked up to V’s bed to check on her. When he reached for the biomonitor to check the progress bar and see how long he’s been sleeping, V moved slightly. She opened her eyes and scanned the room, looking right over him, and furrowed her eyebrows. Finally, she looked up and saw Vik standing next to the bed and her expression went from blank to confused.

‘Vik? What…’ V cleared her throat. ‘What are you doin’ here?’

‘You don’t remember calling me?

‘Not quite’ she bit her lip, trying to gather her thoughts. ‘It’s a bit of a blur. I was feeling like absolute shit after that last job, thought I could just sleep it off.’ she said quietly, propping her head upon her elbow. ‘I didn’t expect it to grow into...whatever that was.’

“A neurogenic cybervirus is what that is. Invisible until it starts to fry your brain. You gave me quite a fright.’

“Fuck. I knew something was off about that netrunner, after she...eh, nevermind. Vik..how long have you been here anyway?

‘Uh,’ Viktor took a quick glance at the biomonitor ‘seven hours, give or take?

‘Fucking hell. I’m..’ she looked at him apologetically. ‘I’m gonna pay you back. What’s your house call fee again? I don't remember it being listed…’

‘Nah, it’s okay. I usually don’t do house calls, so consider that a favor. Just promise me that when you feel something’s off after a job, you’ll come to see me right away. There’s a lot of real vile stuff out there and you won’t even know until it gets you. That’s what you have me for.’

‘Sure, dad. You can spare me the lecture' she chuckled. ‘But for real, Vik. Thank you.’

‘No problem, really.’ he grabbed the biomonitor. Four minutes left. ‘You’re gonna feel like you were hit by a truck for the next few days, but there shouldn’t be any lasting damage. I’ll check up on you in a few days and send in Misty or Jackie in the meantime to help you out since I’d rather you didn’t get out of bed more often than necessary. Next time you see me, consider getting that new set of optics and a gun grip. Might save your ass next time someone attempts to do you dirty like his.’

Something akin to a smile appeared on her face. ‘Doctor’s orders?’

‘Doctor’s orders.’

#viktor vector #female v #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk fic #victor vector #my writing

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kumeko · 4 years ago

Photo

A/N: For Suga, who wanted a Renobowl! I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope I added enough characters/potential romance routes to more than make up for it!

…

i. Cloud

It was a ridiculously stupid. Reno stood in the unfinished basement of the cruddy bar, Seven Minutes in Heaven or something. A table stood in the center of the room, multiple painstakingly handmade maps sprawled over it. The walls were covered with blinking lights and cameras that were more stylistic than functional.

This was the great AVALANCHE’s headquarters. This was where the renegade group of morons thwarted Shinra and somehow survived to tell the tale. This was where all of their slipshod improvised plans were made.

“This is a shitshow,” Reno muttered, leaning against the wall. How the fuck had they even once lost to these guys? It had to be luck or something equally silly. There was no fucking way it was anything else.

Even worse? He was joining this merry band of idiots.

Maybe he had hit his head back in the church.

“You can leave anytime you want to,” Barret growled, glaring at him over the map. The guy overprotective of everything, whether it was his daughter, the bar, or the people he worked with. It was entirely unlike Shinra’s hands-off management team. Reno almost missed the single-worded orders and lingering silence.

“Nah, I’m good.” Reno smirked, his lips curling back as he bared his sharp teeth. It had cowed the other, lesser members of the team, but Barret didn’t so much as flinch.

“You try anything funny, and you won’t have a choice,” he warned, before going back to his ‘plan’.

Reno snorted. Like he hadn’t already gotten that warning from AVALANCHE’s rabid dog. He could still feel the bar digging into his back from when Cloud had pushed him against it, his grip tight on his collar. Despite his constant claims of just being a mercenary for hire, there had been a rough concern in his voice as he’d growled If you betray us to Shinra…

Cloud’s sword was sharp, his hands strong, and it didn’t take much to imagine just what he’d do if Reno turned traitor.

Not that he’d planned to; he’d had enough being Shinra’s lapdog. Yet, even now he could feel Cloud’s hot breath on his face, his heart racing at the possibilities. If he had reached up to grab Cloud’s collar too, if he had closed the gap between them, what would have happened? How rough would it be?

Rude had always warned him he was self-destructive, and well, he wasn’t wrong. Across the dark room, Cloud regarded him with Mako-bright eyes and Reno could only lick his lips in anticipation.

ii. Tifa

“Oh great, another one to haul out. Why can’t they leave before they pass out?”

Blearily, Reno looked up from his empty glass. At the bottom was a drop or two of gin, and he pressed his lips against the rim as he tried to force them down.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Remembering the voice, he looked up. Standing across the bar, a pretty brunette eyed him wryly as she pried his glass away from him. His hand instantly clenched, but it was too late, she’d slipped it out too fast. There was something about her build, about the muscles on her arm and the smooth way that she didn’t so much as walk as flowed across the floor that reminded him about something. It was like a fighter’s. Or a dancer’s. Both were common enough in this town.

“Youree hot,” he slurred, trying to reach over and take it back. He smirked at her; it worked about half the time, if he was lucky.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t lucky today. She sighed, rolling her eyes as she set the cup down behind her. Walking around the bar, she wrapped an arm around his waist and hoisted him up. Immediately, he corrected his previous guess. She was definitely a fighter. That strength was no dancer’s, all muscle and little finesse. He was certain she could toss him over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

“You should take me home,” he leered. No one could claim he knew when to quit.

She wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes, clearly used to this sort of talk. Opening the door, she hauled him outdoors. As usual, the slums smelled like coal dust and shit, but her whiskey scent cut through it. He was half drunk on it. “You smell good.”

The bartender rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, where should I drop you off?”

“My place then?” You couldn’t claim Reno knew when to quit.

For his efforts, he was promptly deposited on the hard ground. Swiping her hands against each other as though to wipe off her germs, she firmly replied, “I’m sure you can make it back on your own.”

Reno chuckled, getting up on wobbly feet. “Tomorrow then?”

At her responding glare, he laughed the entire walk back.

iii. Barret

Reno couldn’t tell you why he’d decided to suddenly help AVALANCHE. It certainly wasn’t one of those good reasons, like pity or kindness. It certainly wasn’t self-preservation either—if he wanted to live, he should have stuck with Shinra. The man owned almost all of the city and had more than enough connections everywhere else to make life uncomfortable.

Then again, Reno had never claimed to be exceptionally smart. He’d always choked against every restraint put on him, always struggled underneath his former boss’s heel.

(He remembered Tseng’s cold voice as he accepted the sector drop, and maybe that twinge of guilt had been more than just a twinge.)

Either way, here he was lying on the roof of the building, the helicopter in pieces around him. Rude probably survived the crash, he survived everything, the dumb fuck, but he definitely wouldn’t be happy to see Reno after the stunt he pulled. Shinra had more than enough men to protect him, the ass.

This was a stupid idea. Which was probably why he didn’t even think when he crashed their helicopter on the pad instead of fighting Barret and his band of merry idiots. What a stupid idea. They’d only live for maybe a few minutes more.

He coughed and winced. That was a broken rib. Two, if he were unlucky, and Reno was always unlucky. He’d been born under a cursed star, after all.

“You friggin’ moron.” Reno barely had time to open his eyes before he saw a thick, black arm wrap around his waist, picking him up with an unexpected gentleness despite the rough voice. “What were you doing?”

“Saving your asses,” he croaked, laughing. Big mistake, his ribs definitely didn’t like that. Spitting blood on the ground, he smirked. “What’re you doing?”

Barret snorted, running down the stairs in a desperate attempt to escape. Escape what? Reno frowned, his head aching as he tried to remember. There had been a bomb—the building was set to explode and he’d warned them.

“We’re not gonna make it,” he mumbled. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Tifa and Cloud racing ahead, clearing the way.

“We’re going to friggin’ try.” Barret tightened his grip as he bounded down the stairs even faster now, taking them three steps at a time. “Can’t believe you did that.”

“And you’re carryin’ me.” Something about this struck him funny. He wasn’t sure if it was the concussion or if it had always been funny, but it was. He tried not to laugh. His ribs ached nonetheless.

“Tifa insisted.” Barret ground out, looking a little put out. “You saved us, sure, but it’s probably ploy.”

“I feel like a ploy,” Reno agreed. That made sense. He was certain that made sense.

“Yeah, you do.” Barret tried not to jostle him as he turned down another flight of stairs. The whole building was endless. No wonder Reno had taken the helicopter up. “But I guess she’s got a point. No one’s going to kill themselves just to get in.”

“I’m in?” Reno wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Queasy, though that might have been the concussion.

“I’m not letting you near us, but you get to live.” Barret glanced at him, the hardened face of a leader. “You’ve earned that much.”

“Have I?” he questioned, but his head jostled and he fell into the welcoming darkness.

iv. Sephiroth

There were many things Reno expected during his time with the Turks, but sitting in a helicopter across from SOLDIER’s greatest warrior hadn’t been high on the list. Considering the kind of wild card he was, he’d expected the brass to keep them as far apart as possible.

Maybe the higher ups liked flirting with danger too. The chopper’s blades were loud and it was hard to think, let alone talk. Reno glanced at the door, taking in the snowy mountains below. “Why’d anyone want to go to a nowhere like this?”

Sephiroth didn’t say anything, only coolly regarded him with bright, mako-infused eyes. Something sparked underneath his peaceful expression, some sort of violent storm that was just waiting to explode. Reno didn’t want to be anywhere near when it happened.

He also wanted to stand right in the middle of it all.

Rude had always called him a contradictory bitch.

“I can see them sending me over to this boring backwater town as a punishment, but you?” he raised a brow, egging him on. “Thought you’d be too big to come here.”

His silver hair almost hid his face as he leaned against the other door and silently took in their destination. Quietly, he replied, “You can stay on the helicopter when we arrive. You aren’t needed.”

“Huh?” Reno snorted, resisting the urge to yank on his long hair and force him to look at him. If there was one thing that grated on his nerves, it was being ignored. “What, you want to hog all the glory?”

“There’s two SOLDIERS.” His gold-flecked eyes met his, and Reno was certain now that he saw some spark of untameable emotion behind his glass exterior. “A Turk is useless.”

“I’ll show you useless.” He smiled wolfishly, all teeth. Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed, just a smidge, and he personally made it his goal to see just how long it’d take for the big man to lose control.

v. Aerith

“Oh, you poor dears,” Aerith murmured as she knelt in the single patch of sunlight in the slums. Reno had once wondered just what the odds were that it shone through the hole in her church, that it hit the only place flowers grew, and then remembered he’d hated numbers. “Don’t worry, I’m here.”

Hands in his pockets, Reno slowly made his way down the aisle to her, his footsteps echoing in the vast room. People might have come here once upon a time, but it was abandoned now, forgotten by all but a lone flower-girl. He glanced at the torn-up flowers at her feet, the over-turned dirt, and snorted. “This happens every time. You should just let them die.”

“Never.” She immediately rejected his suggestion just as she’d done the last nth number of times this had happened. “You could help, you know, instead of standing there.”

He shrugged. “They don’t pay me enough to watch you and help you.”

“You don’t have to watch, you can just help,” she replied sweetly, her innocent smile not quite masking her sharp eyes. The girl was a match waiting to light up. “I won’t tell.”

“Sure, and Shinra won’t have my head when he finds out.” Reno rolled his eyes. They had this conversation once a week. The company goons would come and get her (they also didn’t pay him enough to help them), she’d beat them up and flee, they’d make a mess of her garden, and she’d fix it up.

And then rinse and repeat.

It was boring. If he had to get stuck in this small-time slum with this small-time girl, then at least he should be properly entertained. “Why do you even care about those things?”

“They’re pretty,” she replied earnestly, her fingers digging in the dirt and righting a plant. “They’re resilient. And…”

“And?” Reno raised a brow.

“I like them.” She grinned as she lied. He was pretty sure that the reason his boss wanted her was in her last, silent response. “Do I really need another reason?”

“For this much work? Yeah.” Reno shrugged.

Aerith chuckled, tucking a lock behind her ear. “If you say so. But if you change your mind…”

“Not happening.” Reno snorted, sitting in a pew a couple of rows down. Crossing his arms on the bench in front of him, he rested his chin and watched as she went back to work.

He was starting to sit closer each time.

He didn’t want to think about what that meant.

vi. Tseng

“We’re balancing the scales,” Tseng ordered, his voice carefully neutral. It was always careful with this guy. The bastard liked to pretend he didn’t have feelings, that he was above all that. That the cold that came naturally to Shinra was also his own.

Reno knew better. He made the same lies, only he didn’t buy into them. “Yeah…not.”

“Do you really believe that?” Unfortunately, Rude bought Tseng’s act wholesale. A tragic flaw of his. As soft as he was, he needed some point to this, some reason for it all. There wasn’t. There never would be. And he’d never accept that. His hand clenched as he stared at Tseng.

Reno knew Tseng’s response before he even opened his mouth. Whatever the man might feel, he wouldn’t change his mind. “Does it matter?” Tseng raised a brow. Thatching his fingers, he regarded them coolly. His eyes lingered on Reno’s, as though he knew what would come next.

Maybe he did. They did the same song and dance every time this happened. “What questions? We do the thing.” Reno shrugged, sitting up now. He ran a hand through his hair. “Just like always.”

Rude looked at him sadly and sighed. “I’ll get ready.”

Disheartened, he left the conference room, glancing back at Tseng one last time like a kicked puppy. If tactics like that could work, they wouldn’t be in this business in the first place. Reno snorted. As the heavy door slowly closed shut with a soft thud, he finally turned to Tseng. “You’re a fucking liar.”

As usual, Tseng didn’t even bother to look up from his computer. His fingers ran quickly over the keys, tapping in an unknown code. Maybe if he did it enough, he could become one with the machine. “I didn’t lie.”

Reno laughed, slipping off the couch and stalked toward the desk. Tseng still didn’t look up and he growled.

Nothing got to him more than being ignored. “Every time you open that mouth,” he grabbed Tseng’s jaw, “You lie.”

He didn’t so much as flinch. His eyes were dark. “I’ve never lied.”

“Even that’s a lie,” Reno muttered.

Tseng turned off his monitor. “Don’t make a mess on my desk this time.”

“No promises.” It was all the warning Reno gave before he tugged Tseng closer and crashed his lips on his. There was nothing smooth or gentle about what they did—about the way Reno cleared the desk with a crash or Tseng pulled at his jacket, almost tearing it. This wasn’t a relationship, wasn’t anything more than just pent up emotions needing a release.

And if that release was something physical, almost always bruising, then all the better. Hell, if he left enough marks on Tseng’s perfectly clear skin, then perhaps he could pretend he’d actually protested what they’d done.

That he’d tried and quelled the ghosts that refused to leave him alone.

vii. Rude

“What if we flew away?” Rude asked, glancing at Reno as they flew the helicopter to Shinra’s building. There was a strange lit in his voice, one that took Reno several seconds to recognize as hope.

“Back to headquarters?” he asked, playing dumb. Maybe it’d be enough for Rude to back away like he always did, take the coward’s way out.

“No,” Rude shook his head. For once, he was being obstinate. “I mean…away.”

It was his fault. He’d never been one for pillow talk, and that was the reason that Rude insisted on ambushing him everywhere else with these types of conversations. Hell, they were half-way to destroying AVALANCHE, and the man wanted to talk about escaping Shinra. Reno snorted, shutting it down immediately. “Like that’s fucking happening.”

“But if it could?” Rude asked again, oddly insistent. His hands curled on the throttle as he eased the helicopter up. With his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

“Fine.” Sittng back in his seat, he rolled his eyes. “Let’s say Shinra doesn’t kill us or hunt us down. Where would we go?”

“One of those small towns on the outskirts?” Rude suggested, though he sounded like he’d thought this out for months. Maybe he had. Maybe if Reno had just pretended to listen and slept through it all when they were in bed, he wouldn’t have to deal with that now. “There’s dozens of those.”

“There’s a reason they’re small.” Reno scoffed, wrinkling his nose to the idea. He could barely handle them for a mission, let alone living in one. “What would we even do?”

Rude shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Farm?”

Reno snorted. “Can you imagine? Or maybe you could, but me? Do I look like a farmer?” He gestured at his body. Even on his best days, he knew exactly how scrawny he was. In all honesty, he’d always been a city boy; even the slums here were more interesting than some backwater town.

“There’s other things to do.” Rude flicked a switch and pressed a button. “It’s a small town, not the middle of nowhere.”

“Might as well be.” Reno watched as they got closer and closer to the tower. Any minute now, they’d have to jump out. Getting up, he glanced at Rude. “You good now?”

Something about him deflated as he nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

Reno bit back a groan. This is why he shouldn’t have even encouraged him. What a pain the ass. Looking out the window, he grumbled, “We can talk about this tonight, fine?”

He could almost hear Rude smile. There was that annoying, hopeful sound again as he replied, “Yeah.”

#ff7 #reno #sephiroth #aerith gainsborough #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #tseng of the turks #barret wallace #rude #fanfic

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