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risingsouls · 3 years

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Recruited: Chapter 14

[Alright! We’ve officially made it to the boys heading off to Earth! I took some creative liberties with the scene in which they find out about Raditz’s death and the dragonballs, as well as making better sense of how they can just...fuck off for a year without permission basically? IDK it’s bothered me for a long time and I found a fun way to work around and fix that, among making better sense of a few other minor weird inconsistencies in canon!

That said, the chapters from here on out MAY look a little different. Canon shit will be glossed over more, as I’m not here to just completely re-write out canon scenes. Obviously some are going to be done, but not all. Additionally, we will probably be in Nabooru’s perspective more often than not, but I haven’t fully decided. It’s either mostly Nabs with a few Vegeta only chapters here and there OR I’ll do like I did with the Conversations project and write both of their perspectives at once. BUT this is just me speculating and giving fair warning :3.

As usual, you can read the rest of the fic and other things over here! Thanks to all of you who consistently like and read this and enable my dumb ass :’3]

Vegeta

The next few months sped by, fueled by near nonstop work assigned to the pair of Saiyans. They finished one purge and moved to the next before they could catch their breath, and for it, Vegeta was glad. Through all his effort to maintain normalcy and pretend nothing had changed proved difficult in any stretch of downtime. The upset of Nabooru's promotion threw a hefty wrench into an already flimsy plan, robbing him of the only competent training partner who could begin to pose a challenge and that he could trust not to squeal when it came to his true motives.

Trust. The very thought of the word made him want to scream. Dismantle his pod piece by piece with him inside it. Until she stepped to Frieza's side that day and reprimanded him for sending Raditz off to Earth like he was some child, he didn't realize that he had developed a modicum of trust in her. Further than that moment they shared behind closed doors, the playful, silent agreement that he did trust her. Despite his denial of it and little thought given the moment after. The situation had him questioning even Nappa's loyalty. When would the general and the man who all but raised him turn on him? Would he ever hear from Raditz again, or had the coward used his supposed brother as an excuse to make an escape?

A lesson learned the hard way, as all of them seemed to be for him: trust no one, no matter what. Only power and strength mattered in the end. Both things he needed more of to realize his plans.

The pod's AI system clocked their arrival at their destination at ten minutes, jolting him from his perturbed thoughts for just a moment. He ignored whatever comment Nappa made about finally getting to stretch his legs and informing Nabooru of their arrival on Arglin. Another ridiculous stipulation put in place by Frieza after their meeting: check in when you land and check out when you leave along with at least one daily report if the job lasted more than a single day. All of which he left to Nappa because he couldn't guarantee how his temper would fare just hearing the Gerudo's voice. Because he couldn’t stand to be out of the loop, he still listened in on their conversation, silently seething and left in a worse mood when they ended the call. The times Zarbon had to step in for her due to her healing from her injuries sustained in training were almost a blessing, the amount of irritation in hearing the pompous general’s voice at normal levels that didn’t have him ready to delete an entire solar system. At least he could take solace in her getting her ass soundly handed to her once in a while; as expected, Zarbon and Dodoria didn’t seem to be holding back on her.

Time and space had given some room to reason when it came to her, however. With perhaps a smidgen of prodding from Nappa, he did realize his claims of her ratting him out to achieve her new position were unfounded, if for no other reason than he still lived. Frieza would have killed them on the spot, even Nabooru for not telling him sooner. But it did little to soften the blow and he viewed it as a betrayal for he could only surmise she was doing some dealing behind his back to get there, Frieza's ridiculous reason be damned. Or perhaps he more accurately would only allow himself to surmise as much. It was easier to be angry with her and view her as a sleazy, spineless worm who wanted to climb the ranks at any cost rather than the more personal betrayal that dredged up a murky swamp of emotions he didn't want to feel let alone combat.

The pair of pods touched down on the planet's surface amidst what appeared to be jungle terrain. Vegeta climbed out and pressed the button on his scouter to begin a full scan of the planet's inhabitants. As the reports suggested, the highest power levels would barely pose a threat to Nappa, let alone him, even when it came to its army. Another quick mission and onto the next.

An incoming message interrupted his train of thought, and Raditz's name flashed across the red glass. He pressed the button, watching as Nappa grumbled and did the same. "What is it, Raditz?"

"Months away and this is the greeting I get?" Vegeta growled and Raditz clicked his tongue. Bold with so much distance between them. "Whatever. I've landed on Earth. I have yet to detect a single power level worth noting. One of them tried to shoot me with some archaic weaponry, though."

"So your weakling brother is dead?"

"I gue--hang on. There's one. Still not much, but I'll check it out."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Keep the line open for us. We have work to do and I'm not in the mood for your pointless interruptions."

He supposed that at least put to rest his suspicions of Raditz deserting.

"Least the runt made it," Nappa commented with a yawn and stretch. "So, half the planet each like we've been doing?"

"Fine." Vegeta's boots lifted from the ground. "No stopping off for a damn drink this time. If I have to pick up any slack for you, I'll finish the job myself, destroy your pod, and leave you here. Got it?"

"How did you even--?"

"Smell, Nappa."

"Shit…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright, all work, no play. I'll meet you back here."

Vegeta nodded. Blue-white aura surrounded him and he took off, heading toward the first large cluster of power levels.

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

Cities razed and reduced to rubble. He met the resistance of the armies and, instead of dealing with them with a large-scale blast, he decided to bring the fight to them. He crushed bones and punched holes through anyone stupid enough to engage him head on. Obliterated whole squadrons at point blank range. Laughed in the faces of those who begged him for mercy or claimed him a monster. An outlet for his pent up rage, the aggression spilling out of him on the weaklings unlucky enough to live on a planet set for purging and, worse yet, assigned to him. In the moment, he forgot all about Frieza and Nabooru, his quest for vengeance. He was a warrior, a hunter on the prowl. The prince of all Saiyans who answered to no master but himself.

The last soldier's head crushed beneath his boot, he flicked blood from his gloves and wiped it from his face. All the while he had been tuning in and out to the feed from Raditz and his mission on Earth, occasionally chuckling at his stupid jokes or misplaced bravado. He had located his brother after all, a failure in his mission with the planet still fully populated and at peace. Vegeta surmised Raditz ran into trouble with him and another fighter. He took a moment to listen to Raditz beg for Kakarot to release his tail and snorted at the idiot's misfortune and lack of foresight to train his tail so it no longer posed such a weakness.

He tapped the button on his scouter. It beeped throughout the scan but ultimately only picked up a handful of signatures across the planet on Nappa's portion. His work complete, he tore through the sky and back to their pods.

By the time Nappa returned, Vegeta had stoked a small fire with the trees their pods felled upon landing. He snapped a couple of limbs off a few corpses and jammed a spit through them, leaving them to roast over the fire when hunger gnawed at his belly. When Nappa reached out for one of the spits, Vegeta slapped his hand away and ordered him to get his own.

The sounds of combat over the scouter halted. He could hear the sound of Raditz struggling against some sort of restraint. A voice he didn't recognize ordering a "Piccolo" to attack. His cohort pointing out that the owner of the previous voice couldn't possibly dodge some attack while holding him and soon trying to talk his way out of what appeared to be certain doom. His cohorts agonized screams followed by a bout of silence.

Vegeta's expression fell, tightened. He tore into the arm he plucked from the fire, ignoring the excessive heat in his mouth. They didn't lose. Even Raditz found ways to beat the odds. Earth was meant to be filled with weaklinga and for Raditz to find his end to such lowlifes...the stick snapped in his grip, his meal dropping to the ground with a thud. It was embarrassing. To Raditz. To him.

He snatched up another roasted limb. Pained and rasping, Raditz's voice sounded in his ear again. Answered by another that he vaguely remembered from the preceding fight and announcing the final attack. Raditz's killer, then. The Saiyan claimed they would all perish when his comrades came to avenge him (had he not been in such a sour mood, Vegeta would have laughed), to which the other replied that this Goku would have the last laugh. His friends would wish him back soon using something called the dragonballs.

And then it clicked. These dragonballs granted a wish as impossible as bringing the dead back to life. Could they grant any wish? Could this be the answer he was looking for to his Frieza problem? His pulse quickened and his mind raced with possibilities.

“Shit...can’t believe Raditz is dead,” Nappa mumbled at last.

Vegeta scoffed. “The only reason it’s shocking is because that planet was supposed to be full of weaklings. Otherwise, with how weak he was himself, it was only a matter of time.” He ripped another chunk of meat with his teeth and wiped his mouth with the back of his glove. “I’m far more interested in those dragonballs they mentioned.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, that’s right.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “Said you could make a wish with them.”

“Precisely. We’ll force Kakarot and his friends to hand them over and make a wish of our own.”

Nappa perked up. “Hey, and we can bring Raditz back.”

“Don’t be stupid,” the prince snapped, frown deepening at his cohort’s shock. “Raditz was weak and I won’t waste a wish on a weakling like that.”

Vegeta fought the urge to roll his eyes with how Nappa blinked, his good mood and a dim light of potential hope holding his annoyance at bay. If they could pull this off, Frieza and anyone else who stood in his way would become nonissues. “How does immortality sound to you, Nappa?”

“Eh, immortality?” Realization slowly dawned over the former general’s features, smirk resurfacing at last. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound too bad at all. We’d be unstoppable.”

“Now you’re getting it.” Vegeta stood. “Immortality doesn’t suit the weak, anyway. Raditz would only get in our way in the long run.”

Nappa followed his lead. “Guess you got this all figured out, huh?” He paused and folded his arms over his chest. His confident grin faded once more. “You think we’d get clearance for that trip? We’re further out now than when Raditz took off.”

In his mounting excitement, the thought slipped his mind. The snap decision to go without reporting to his betters or awaiting permission, while more tempting on the precipice of immortality, could prove detrimental in the long run. He had no doubt that, if Frieza caught wind of the dragonballs, he would seek them out for himself. But by the same token, if Frieza hadn't heard the transmission already, keeping quiet about a flight to Earth without word cast suspicion on the entire trip regardless. He needed a way to get permission to go to Earth while keeping his true intentions secret until it was too late for Frieza or his cronies to do a thing about it.

A growl rumbled in his chest, and he flipped through the options until he found the proper contact number. He had one option for it, and whether she would work with him considering their last encounter was a shot in the dark at best. He could see her refusing out of pure spite or to cover her own ass and keep him as leashed as the emperor wanted him. Naturally, he refused to tell her the entire plan. He just needed enough to convince her it was worthwhile. Specific but vague to ward off suspicion and keep anyone potentially listening in off their trail.

With Nappa keeping better rapport with their new commander, Vegeta reconsidered forcing Nappa to speak with her since, from what he could tell in their conversations, she held no ill will toward the large Saiyan. He himself seemed to have let go of the ordeal entirely, a fact that irritated Vegeta for reasons he couldn't quite place. He watched Nappa tap into the line and he felt his tongue form the order but quelled it as the familiar voice spoke in his ear:

"You're already done? That must be a record for you two."

Rage flooded him the same way it always did when he listened in on Nappa relaying his report to her or holding small, inane conversations. It seized his lungs and clamped his mouth shut. He waved a hand for Nappa to continue while he paced the length of their makeshift camp, his tail lashing behind him.

"Sure are. Just trying to keep the higher ups happy." He could feel Nappa's gaze on him but ignored it. "Planet's been purged without issue and is ready for whatever venture Frieza has planned for it."

Nabooru sighed in relief. "You make this job easy for me. I'll get to rub it in Zarbon's and Dodoria's faces. They said this one would take you at least three days."

"Bastards," Nappa huffed. "Give ‘em a good punch from me next time you train with them."

"I'll try my best."

Vegeta glared over at Nappa, urging him to get to the damn point. "Right, uh….so how's the training going? We haven't had to report to Zarbon the last few times. Thank fuck for that."

"It's going great. I'm getting stronger by the day. I can feel it."

Good. She was alone and their conversation was likely not being monitored. Nabooru and Nappa concocted a code between them to ensure the slightest amount of security for their conversations. The Saiyan requested how her training was going and, depending how she answered, would decide if they could speak freely or not. A casual and conversational check that wouldn't raise red flags. The positive response bode well.

"Heh, at what cost, though? You have to deal with Zarbon and Dodoria everyday." Nappa rubbed the back of his neck, once more eying the prince for guidance on what he was meant to say. "But uh...don't know if you heard yet but--"

"Raditz is dead."

Nappa blinked and silence fell on the other end of the scouter. He wondered what stunned her into silence more, hearing his voice for the first time in months due to a refusal to speak with her he made clear or the news he imparted with the barest amount of hesitation or emotion.

Finally, "Is that so?" Her voice softened and lacked its usual energy. "How? I thought--"

"Yes, we all thought. Someone down there obviously got the better of him." He returned to his seat on the log, arms folded over his chest and one leg crossed over the other. "He was caught off guard because the warriors there can lower their power levels to next to nothing. He underestimated his opponents because of it."

"I can't believe it," she breathed. He imagined her tangling her fingers in her crimson tresses, a habit of hers he observed on multiple occasions.

Vegeta tsked. "It's his own damn fault. But it could mean the planet has more potential soldiers on it than we knew. It could be worth checking out after all." He paused and inwardly rolled his eyes at the ridiculous lie he was about to spew to sweeten the deal: "Besides, Nappa and I want to avenge Raditz. No one kills a Saiyan without consequence."

The woman hummed, and the prince tapped his foot in the air impatiently. His tail thumped the log next to him in rhythm. "Fair enough. I'll see what I can do with fitting it into your work queue. Rearrange things to put you two in that neck of the universe." Vegeta smirked. "It may be a while before you can make that stop as I'll have to keep you both busy on the trip out that way."

"All the better. Frieza wouldn't understand our mission." Not the fake one, anyway.

"He wouldn't." Another silence, save for a squeak followed by the sound of running water, droplets hitting tile. His eye twitched when his mind betrayed him with an accompanying image. "In fact, if you can keep it down to a day, two at most, I could probably get you out that way and put it in the schedule as your off days. Then, if you happen to come back with any useful data about Earth, it could just be a bonus of your time off."

Clever, though he refused to praise her for it. "They barely bested Raditz it sounded like, so taking them out shouldn't be an issue for us."

"Then I'll see what I can do. I'll send your updated queue to you once I figure it out."

"Fine."

A press of the button and he cut the line, Nappa saying his farewell and following suit. Vegeta stood once more and strode to his pod and opened it. After every setback and years of enraging torment, his fate seemed to be turning around. With immortality on the horizon, Frieza's demise and his freedom were just around the corner. He would take back what was his and more, all that was promised him. He would take vengeance on those who wronged him and his race and said he couldn't do it. He would rise and take his place in Saiyan legend as a Super Saiyan at last.

He nodded to Nappa before sinking down into his pod, hatch closing behind him. He keyed in the coordinates of their next destination and, once his comrade confirmed he was ready, jetted off into the cosmos once more. Though his destiny excited him, he knew he would still need to exercise patience. He couldn't afford to screw up this close. At least his time under Frieza had offered him that, his entire life spent awaiting the perfect moment to strike. What was a little bit longer?

#fic: recruited #tadaaaa #oh vegeta #i was writing the last two paragraphs like #oh sweetie #im so sorry

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bgn846 · 4 years

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I Got It Covered, Trust Me - FFXV FIC

Summary:

Gladio decides Iris' new boyfriend has to go, he's an idiot. Iris doesn't agree. Gladio takes matters into his own hands and invites them both over for dinner, and a little chat. What could possibly go wrong?

Notes:

I had a great time doing a little collab with Blackchocomuffin for this piece. Please, go check out their awesome art of Gladio being a good overprotective brother. ART,

TW: For animal blood on an apron.

Work Text:

The one thing Gladio didn’t take into account was Prompto freaking out. He was covered in blood, so he shouldn’t have been too surprised by the reaction. However, what Gladio didn’t foresee was having to explain everything to Ignis, since he couldn’t see what Prompto was going on about.

“What do you mean he’s bleeding?” Ignis exclaimed rushing forward to try and touch him.

“I’m fine Iggy, babe trust me it’s not even my blood.”

Prompto decided now would be a good time to tell Ignis, in great detail, what he looked like. This did not go well. Namely, because Gladio had decided that Iris’ latest boyfriend needed to go, and his bloodied appearance was directly linked to that.

“First off he’s wearing an apron?” Prompto questioned as he announced it to Ignis like that would instantly explain things. “And it’s covered in blood and what is with the knife big guy? It looks like you murdered someone!” Prompto asked with concern.

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on? Do I need to fetch a medic?” Ignis asked, his voice rising higher and higher by the second.

Gladio wanted to pull his partner into a hug, but being covered in blood prevented that action. Guess he’d have to fess up. Gladio was doing so well on his little mini-mission and then Prompto had to swing by unexpectedly.

“Listen, the both of you, just let me explain. I’m uninjured; this is leftover blood from the recent kill at the hunter’s guild.” Gladio paused for a moment when Ignis’ handsome face adopted a very bizarre expression. When the man didn’t say anything Gladio continued. “I’m going to, to, um,” and this is when the sheer stupidness of his idea hit Gladio. He was trying to scare his little sister’s boyfriend so he’d go away. Gods, he was an asshole. “Er, uh, shit, you’re both gonna say I’m a total jerk, but this is to scare off Todd.”

“Oh,” was all Prompto uttered.

“Todd, as in Iris’ new boyfriend, Todd?” Ignis clarified.

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Why may I ask, have you decided that Todd must go?” Ignis queried.

“Okay, in Gladio’s defense Todd is an idiot.” Prompto chimed in with a thoughtful look. “He thinks corn and flour tortillas are the same thing. That’s weird.”

Surprised to hear Prompto throw Todd under the bus, Gladio had renewed hope in his plan. “Iggy, all I wanna do is have Todd see me like this so he’ll get freaked and leave Iris alone.”

“What if your plan doesn’t work? What then? I’m not sure Todd seeing you,” Ignis paused and waved his hand around nondescriptly. “As Prompto described you will do anything.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll just have to tie him up and put him in my trunk for a night. He’ll get lost after that for sure.”

“Prompto I can’t tell, is he joking? I fear he’s being serious,” Ignis sighed trying to remain calm.

“Why the apron?” Prompto asked instead.

“Oh! Well, Iris wanted me to officially meet Todd so I told her to bring him over for dinner tonight. The thing is Iggy wasn’t going to know what I looked like, so he could remain innocent when Iris yells at me later.”

“Oh damn, did I screw things up by swinging by?” Prompto queried.

“Aside from destroying Iggy’s alibi, it’s not a big deal Prom.”

“Wait, I’m still lost over here, you are wearing an apron that has been covered in blood? Correct?”

“Yeah, and I’ve got some on my face too to match.”

“Six save me, that’s why you didn’t give me a kiss when you got back earlier. You were trying to spare me from getting dirty.”

“Right, so are we all on board for scaring the shit outta Todd?”

“I can’t imagine this young man is so bad. Though, I’ve never personally met him.”

“He’s not the brightest bulb in the box Iggy,” Prompto admitted. “Did I mention that his brother is a flat eoser? I mean come on that’s terrible enough.”

“Excuse me, he’s a what?”

“No, not him, his brother. You know a flat esoer, someone who thinks the eos is flat.”

Ignis licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak but gave up after a moment.

“So yeah I’ve got maybe twenty more minutes to get real dinner started so I’m a believable cook when they get here,” Gladio supplied quickly.

“Are you not going to explain anything when they arrive?” Prompto asked with a small smile. “How do you see this going?”

“I’m hoping Todd will give me a look that says he’s scared for his life and then I’ll probably make some sorta comment about Iris’ last boyfriend being a troublemaker, and that I took care of em’.”

“And you both claim Todd is an idiot,” Ignis grumbled as he shuffled away to find the couch and sit down.

“Seriously he is! That is why I’m doing this.”

“Do be careful Gladio, she may try and date his brother in retaliation.”

“Nah, Iris wouldn’t do that, she’s too smart for that.”

“At least one of the Amicitia siblings has their parent’s wits.”

Prompto barked out a laugh before Gladio could respond. “Guess I should head out so you can get prepared. I want to hear all the little details. Ignis, let me know how hard Iris hits Gladio. I know you’ll be able to tell based on the sound.”

Ignis gave Prompto a nod signaling he’d heard and went back to using his phone, listening to the daily reports from the marshal. As quickly as Prompto had arrived he was gone, off to find some of the glaive to relax for the night. They’d all had a busy day and it was time to unwind. Unless as in Gladio’s case, he was attempting to not alienate his litter sister or upset his own boyfriend. It was a fine line he was treading.

Time flew after Prompto left, and Gladio soon found that he was not only covered in blood but cooking stains as well. At least they’d have a good dinner, or Ignis would if Iris killed him before they ate. The tall tale sound of footsteps approaching meant the moment of truth had arrived. Grabbing his large carving knife complete with dried blood covering every inch, he waited to hear a knock before he answered.

However, when he shuffled out of their tiny kitchen towards the door Ignis was already standing and waving him back. “Allow me, your reveal will be better from the kitchen,” he whispered while waiting near the door.

Unable to keep the grin from his face Gladio leaned forward and gave Ignis a quick kiss on the lips. “Thanks, babe, you’re the best!” he offered in a hushed tone before retreating back to his spot by the stove.

Ignis merely shook his head and put on his best ‘I know nothing’ face when someone knocked. Iris’ voice rang out a second later announcing their arrival, his little sister was always mindful of Ignis not being able to use the peephole in the door. Forced to turn away from the door Gladio took a deep breath and waited.

“Lovely to hear you again Iris,” Ignis offered easily to which the younger Amicitia laughed brightly. “Ah yes, this must be who we are here to meet, Todd correct?”

A low voice answered, but not loud enough for Gladio to hear well.

“Do come in and make yourself at home, Gladio’s been busy in the kitchen all evening,” Ignis supplied before closing the door.

Thinking of how his dad might have reacted to meeting one of Iris’ boyfriends, Gladio put on his best impression of their late father and spun around to meet Iris and Todd. “So this is the young man you’ve been so enamored with, huh?” Gladio stated before frowning. “I do hope you treat my sister well, she’s a very special lady.”

Nothing but silence filled the room when he finished talking. Iris was looking at him like she wanted to throttle him and Todd; well Todd was just not paying attention. The little shit. The moment he fully turned around to see the rest of the apartment behind him Iris stepped forward and punched Gladio in the arm, hard. Training with Cor was paying off; Iris had a mean right hook.

“Uh, do you need help with anything?” Todd asked with a blank look when he focused again. “I didn’t realize you got so into cooking, you’re like covered, in, um, lots of stuff.”

“Blood, Todd, I’m covered in blood,” Gladio deadpanned in a moment of anger.

“Are we having meat? Oh, I thought Iris told you, I’m a vegan.”

“What?” Gladio asked in confusion. How the hell had this kid not noticed that this was an overly excessive amount of blood to be covered in. Even for cooking.

“You know like someone who doesn’t eat meat or dairy products. Plant-based only.”

“How?” This was bad, this was very bad. Gladio was so thrown off he couldn’t even speak full sentences anymore.

“Oh, uh, I grow a lot of my own food but it’s like really hard and sometimes I don’t eat enough. I mean it’s so dark out all the time, and it’s hard to gro--.”

Gladio had already tuned Todd out, this little brat didn’t even know what it was like to eat meat, let alone butcher it. That, he hadn’t taken into account. This didn’t mean Todd was dumb though, just massively out of the loop. Still, he thought he’d managed to at least look like a horror movie villain. Maybe Todd didn’t watch scary movies either?

“—like that’s how I usually do it, but it’s hard to find tofu sometimes, but I can make fake chicken with flour and that’s not bad. Uh, when are we eating, I have to stick to a strict schedule otherwise my body gets out of whack,” Todd finished with an expectant look.

Sweet shiva, Gladio was starting to seriously consider his options for actually doing away with Todd. Fine, he doesn’t eat meat, but he could at least not be an asshole about it! “Dinner should be ready soon, why don’t you go help Ignis with the wine.”

“I only drink wines that haven’t been aged in wood; do you have anything like that?”

Gladio couldn’t even form words; this guy was a piece of work. Thankfully, Ignis was ready to field that request. His partner guided Todd away towards their modest wine rack to select something. Gladio already knew they didn’t have what Todd wanted. They had nothing Todd wanted. His garula steak pasta sauce paired with egg pasta wasn’t vegan. The bread rolls with cheese baked in most definitely weren’t. Though, why did he care, the little shit could starve, he wasn’t here to make Todd happy! He was trying to make him go away.

The second Todd stepped away with Ignis, Iris got close and promptly kicked him in the shin. Biting back a yell Gladio limped back into the kitchen space. “He’s an idiot!” Gladio hissed under his breath.

“He’s my idiot!” Iris whisper shouted back.

“Can’t you select a different one? He’s sorta rude.”

“I can’t believe you, trying to scare him like this.”

“Well, it didn’t work! See, he’s an idiot!” Gladio huffed excitedly.

“No, he’s not,” Iris growled lowly.

“I look like I mur—Did you two find a good wine?” Gladio asked cheerily when Todd came back over holding a bottle.

“Not sure, the label on this one is too faded for me to tell if it’s been aged in wood barrels or not. I won’t drink it because it’s like cruelty against trees and all. Ignis said there might be a magnifying glass over here for me to try and read the label better?”

“Excuse me? What about trees?” Gladio was well out of his element with this kid, he wasn’t an idiot he was just plain weird. “I don’t think they fe--.”

“I know where there is one!” Iris interjected, “One sec baby let me grab it for you.”

Baby!? Dear lord his little sister was calling this tool bag baby. The world had officially ended. Gladio nearly threw up in his mouth when Todd repeated the name back to Iris. He almost didn’t catch the barely concealed snort from Ignis across the room. Damn him, at least he was having fun.

Dinner was a disaster. The more Gladio worked to fluster Todd, the more Iris would fawn over him. Figures, she’d act that way, she was doing this out of spite, he was sure of it. Ignis on the other hand was having the time of his life. When Todd started talking about conspiracy theories, Ignis, who knew every little thing there is to know, easily debunked each and every one.

As the night crawled on, Gladio realized Todd was getting drunk. The kid had only been able to eat the small salad they’d made. He’d declined the dressing since that wasn’t the right way to eat greens. Something about being respectful to their natural state and covering them in oil and vinegar was a huge mistake. This of course made Gladio smother his salad in dressing, just to see if he could elicit a reaction out of the tool bag.

It didn’t work.

Nothing was working, Todd was terrible, but Iris wasn’t going to dump him, he’d failed his mission. However, right when Gladio thought all hope was lost, Todd opened his mouth and proceeded to stick his foot in it. Guess getting drunk had made him a little loose-lipped.

“Gladio,” Todd announced seriously, “You should tell Iris to be careful when she fights. I keep telling her that she won’t look good with battle scars.”

“Sometimes you have no choice but to take up arms buddy, it’s the way things are nowadays,” Gladio answered meaningfully. “We’ve sworn an oath to protect the people and that may come at a cost.”

“Yeah, yeah, but like for Iris specifically, she shouldn’t fight, it’s not right.”

“What?” Gladio and Iris asked in unison.

“Baby, hear me out, I like you and all but like you can’t keep fighting, what if you get scars like your brother? You won’t be pretty anymore.”

The deathly silence that followed Todd’s proclamation was the best thing Gladio had heard all night. Maybe things were turning around after all. Todd wasn’t an idiot. He was a duche bag. Even better!

Iris had cried a few times since Ignis had asked Todd to leave after his comment. Something about having an angry blind man remove his visor, and pointedly stare at you left little room for argument. Ignis’ bold move had done more than Gladio’s bloodied apron had even come close to achieving. Todd’s utter look of fear at being singled out was a thing of pure joy to behold. Gladio didn’t like that it came at the expense of his sister's feelings, but Todd needed to go.

“Is he blind?! Sorry Ignis but I’m still in shock,” Iris lamented. “I mean you both clearly have visible scars, why would he say something so, so rude.”

“He’s a douche bag, that’s why!” Gladio cut in.

“It’s alright, that wine he drank had been aged in an oak barrel for at least fifteen years. He had to go on my word that it hadn’t been,” Ignis added calmly.

“You lied to him?” Gladio asked with a smile.

“I may have fibbed; I can’t be expected to keep all my wine bottles straight. I’m unable to read any of the labels personally so I can’t really be blamed.”

“Who doesn’t use dressing on salad, that’s stupid,” Iris mumbled a second later.

“I knew you’d come around! Come on let us find you a nice normal boy to date. Iggy and I will invite them over for a nice din--.”

“NO! No, no, no I’m fine. Gladio you stay outta my business,” Iris cut in, though she was smiling a little.

Laughing loudly Gladio pulled Iris over, nearly toppling her chair, for a proper hug. “Okay truce, I won’t go actively hunting for a boyfriend for you, but can you at least trust us when we tell you they might be an idiot?”

“Maybe, just don’t do the bloodied apron knife thing again, that was awful.”

“What did he look like? I’ve had Prompto describe his look but I’d like to hear it from you, if I may.”

Iris happily obliged and described all of Gladio’s elaborate planning, down to the black trash bags on the counter with a sticky label on them that read ‘Todd’. Prompto hadn’t noticed those.

By the time she’d finished and they’d cleaned up everything Gladio decided he could break out dessert. No reason to waste his efforts. Iris merely rolled her eyes when he took out a plate of simple sugar cookies that he’d decorated with little radioactive symbols. “What?! It was a backup plan in case Todd hadn’t figured out things.”

“Ignis, he’s made cookies with the hazardous symbol all over them. Do you think we are safe to eat them?”

“Oh that’s what you were doing,” Ignis exclaimed with a smile. “Yes, they should be palatable. I helped with those. I didn’t realize what Gladio intended to use them for. He added the decoration afterward, I believe.”

“You are such a dork Gladio. Thanks for looking out for me though.”

“Anytime Iris, Iggy, and I are here for ya no matter what.”

Iris leaned over and gave him another hug. “Sounds good, but there is one thing I gotta know,” pausing she pulled away. “Where the hell did you get all that blood?!”

#ffxv fanfiction #ffxv #gladio #iris #ignis #this might be crack #you've been warned

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spacecadetal · 4 years

Text

New Blood (a Kakashi Hatake x OC fic) - Chapter Three

Warnings: Use of violence, violence, use of knives, swearing, drinking, death mention, death

Read on AO3 or below the line

Previous Chapter

The sun on Maia’s bare arms filled her with warmth as she made her way home, dawdling along.

“Hey! Hey, Maia!” Iruka chased after Maia on the streets of Konoha. Running in a sprint to catch up with her.

Turning around to see Iruka running up to her, Maia smiled. “What’s going on, Iruka?”

“I was hoping I’d bump into you. We’re having a Shinobi Night tonight, you should come!”

“Shinobi Night?” Maia questioned.

“Yeah! All the higher level shinobi and teachers go for dinner and drinks. It’s quite good fun”

“But Iruka… I’m not a shinobi…”

“That doesn’t even matter, the new guys are going too” Iruka said, “Did no one tell you?”

Maia felt a sudden pang of hurt, she wasn’t going to lie. It faded away quickly after the realisation that Maia was still yet to develop bonds or make friends with the other shinobi of the village. No wonder she hadn’t received an invite. It didn't matter, Iruka was telling her now and that counted for something.

“No… but it doesn’t matter. I’d love to come” Maia said, quickly shaking off the hurt, a smile on her face despite.

“Awesome. Come by Resutoran at eight alright?” And with that Iruka was running off in the other direction, giving Maia a wave before dedicating himself to his sprint.

__________________________________________________

Bordering on eight at night, Maia looked at herself in the mirror one last time. Smoothing out her shirt, checking all angles to see if she looked strange. She probably did.

Maia didn’t know how these Shinobi Nights’ worked. Did you come dressed up or was it casual? When she worked for her old family, the chefs would take the night off and get dressed up and go to a big village and let loose. Shooting drinks back, dancing on the street. Why did she have a feeling that this wasn’t going to be the same as that?

Just in case, she dressed herself to appear more casual with a hint of formal. A black tank with black flowing pants and her usual training boots, knives strapped to the inside of her leg. Small silver hoops gifted from her mother the day Maia left the village for good.

Maia debated whether or not she should turn up a little later. There were many advantages and disadvantages to both scenarios. She had weighed them heavily as she sat on her couch debating them in her head. Debating for so long that she had looked at the time and thought she might as well wait a few more moments when the clock turned half past eight. Maybe that way Iruka would be there when she turned up and she wouldn’t be alone.

Turning up to Resutoran was the biggest mistake Maia had ever made in her life. That’s what it had felt like in the moment anyway. The shinobi were there, so were the chunin. Iruka was there too and gave Maia a big friendly wave and a ‘over here Maia!’. None of this was the issue. The issue was that everyone was in their casual shinobi gear and she was way too overdressed. Now everyone was staring at her and she stood frozen in the doorway.

‘Just look at Iruka and move. Just keep looking at Iruka’ she thought as she began to move through the room, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with anyone else at all costs.

Sliding onto the stool next to Iruka, Maia had never wanted to walk out of a building more in her entire life.

“I feel completely overdressed” she murmured to Iruka.

“Don’t even worry about it, you're the nicest looking one out of all of us here”

That did kind of make her feel better.

“Here. This will take your mind off it” Iruka said as he slid the glass of sake in her direction.

He was right, it did, even for a second. Maia slammed it back. “Hey, Iruka...did everyone know I was coming tonight?”

“Ah…” Iruka laughed slightly nervously, “No...not really”.

In that moment, Maia really wished she knew the hand signs to send her spiraling down into the depths of earth.

Kakashi had seen Maia as soon as she walked into Resutoran, looking like a frightened possum. He was hidden in the corner booth, Gai next to him while Asuma and Kurenai sat across them both. One arm around the back of his wife’s chair and the other with a glass of the hard stuff. Kakashi watched as she approached the bar, stiff muscles and red cheeks, sitting down next to Iruka and slamming back a glass of sake. Basic body language said she was experiencing hell on earth.

He had no idea she was coming at all. No one had said anything all week, then again he had been busy. Gai dragged him along last minute with great reluctance on Kakashi’s part. It’s not that these events weren’t his thing, it was a good opportunity for team bonding, it’s just that he didn’t want to go.

“How are the kids?” Gai asked the group, always looking for a chance to praise his squad's abilities.

“Fantastic. Hinata is starting to really grow into her own” Kurenai said, nodding as she sipped from her glass.

“Ino and Choji are growing incredibly too. Really stepped it up. You should have seen how fast Choji got back to his normal weight after getting out of hospital. Oh boy, does the kid love to eat” Asuma said with pride, puffing away on his cigarette.

“Lee is doing absolutely phenomenal since his surgery, he’ll be back to shape in absolutely no time at all!”

“Kakashi? How about Naruto and Sakura?” Kurenai asked, noticing Kakashi's silence.

“Well, Jiraiya is looking after Naruto now and Sakura is being mentored by Maia Setsudan”

None of this bothered him. Having the squad part ways so Kakashi could focus on Sasuke was a good thing at the time, leaving Kakashi being able to be more attentive to the conflicted boy. That soon came to bite him in the ass. Despite that, he had no qualms about it, Naruto was in capable hands despite Jiraiya’s antics. Sakura on the other hand, he was to wait and see. Perhaps Maia could give Sakura a different type of mentoring that could help Sakura in the long run.

Maia was three drinks in already in the short amount of time she had been there. It was excessive but desperate times call for desperate measures. In this very moment, in this very restaurant, all Maia wanted to do was run back to her old family’s doorstep and beg for her old job back.

“So you have Moto on your squad right?” Iruka asked Maia, tearing a dumpling off of his stick.

“Yeah, Kira and Sakura too” Maia nodded, smiling at the mention of her squad.

Maia was proud of her squad. Sure it was early days but she knew with enough time, this squad could really grow into something strong. This was almost like a recipe that was in need of perfecting, maybe it needed a pinch of salt or a little more stock but eventually you’d get to a point of perfection.

“Oh Moto. You know he has some potential despite his reluctance to actually learn anything, good kid”

“Yeah, I’ll make a shinobi out of him yet” Maia hoped.

Throughout the night, Kakashi kept his eyes on Maia Setsudan. Watching as she drowned herself in sake and wine, finding it mildly amusing. He’d doubt she knew he was here yet or else he would have received a glare by now. She had stuck by Iruka closely at the bar and didn't dare to look around. He had tuned out the group's conversation, listening on little snippets of hers instead. Despite her distress coming into the place, the alcohol seemed to settle it an hour into her visit.

“I’m just going to the bathroom” Iruka told Maia, now she was alone at the bar.

Kakashi watched as she swiveled around, her feet tucked into the bar at the bottom of the stool innocently, oblivious to her surroundings. She took in every little detail in the room, slowly scanning each little inch until… until she finally noticed him.

He wanted to frown at the panic on her face. Why would she react like that? Did she dislike him that much? Her behaviour was just as cold and dismissive at the welcoming party.

Maia thought she was about to throw up, praying to anything listening out in the universe that she didn’t. Glancing around the room to see Kakashi gave her a fright. She hadn’t suspected him to be hiding in the corner like that. Now she felt slightly embarrassed in front of him, turning up over dressed and getting drunk enough to border on foolishness. Looking away quickly and pretending it never happened was the only way forward.

It was amazing what she could hear once it was silent. Iruka was easy to chat to and Maia sometimes couldn’t shut herself up once she got enough drinks in her.

“Look I just don’t trust her yet” Kurenai finished her drink, slamming the glass on the counter. As if she has been itching to say so.

Kakashi looked to his fellow comrade with his eyebrow raised. He trusted her opinion, after all she spoke more to Maia at the welcoming party than he had in total. Perhaps she heard something that has formed her opinion.

“Where is this coming from?” Kakashi asked, curious at the sudden outburst. “What happened to trusting Tsunade?”

“I’m just unsure about her that's all. I don’t know if she’s a capable shinobi and I don’t know if she’s going to be of help to these kids. Students come first always” she defended her stance.

The group understood her concern, they’d want to make sure their students were getting the best training possible.

“We need to talk to Tsunade about this and get some answers,” she urged the group.

“Woah, woah, woah there, Tsunade is Hokage for a reason and if she trusts her enough to bring her and every other chunin here then we need to extend that trust” Gai said, trying to get out of any confrontation in a passive manner.

Kakashi agreed with Gai for once. Hokage was Hokage for a reason, what she says, goes. If Tsunade thought this person was good enough to help the village, then she was good enough. Perhaps they were needing to extend a helping hand rather than a dismissive one.

“I’m just don’t think Tsunade thought this through”

Oh...

Maia sat alone at the bar, her head tilted in the direction of the group in the corner of the restaurant. It was not her intention to eavesdrop but then again, if you don’t want someone to hear something you probably shouldn’t speak so loudly.

Kakashi gathered that she had probably overheard their conversation. Especially when she ordered one last glass, slamming it back before fleeing the scene. The mission of welcoming the new people was going splendidly.

Iruka had come back well after Maia had left, standing at the bar looking around to see any sign of her at any of the other tables.

“Hey, guys. Have you seen Maia?” He had asked Kakashi’s group but was met with shrugs and ‘I have no idea, sorry’ .

Maia felt as if she was a jigsaw piece that kept trying to ram herself into places she just didn’t belong and that was becoming clear. She wasn’t going to fight for her honour or in her defence. Simply she would not stay where she was not wanted.

Walking away from the bar and out of the restaurant into the streets, grateful for the cold air hitting her hot skin, for the first time in the whole night Maia finally felt like she could breathe.

Maia was upset. Of course she was, she had just wanted to be accepted by her peers. She had left her whole life behind to do this favour and now she was treated like a pariah over it. It felt completely stupid and pointless. Standing up to it by leaving felt somewhat brave, not allowing herself to hang around a group of people she wasn’t welcome around.

As she walked down the dark Konoha streets her sadness began to boil over to anger. Angry that she left a job she loved for this, angry that everyone couldn’t get over the fact that she wasn’t trained in a damn academy, angry that she was letting it all get the better of her.

As Maia made it home after fiddling with her keys in the lock, She sloppily removed her shoes as she walked up stairs, flopping onto her bed the moment she saw it. As she drifted off, all Maia could think about how she was going to prove every single one of them wrong.

#kakashi x oc #kakashi/oc #kakashi imagines #kakashi hatake x oc #kakashi hatake/oc #kakashi hatake fanfiction #kakashi hatake imagines #naruto fanfiction #myfic #nb #new blood

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mlmdarkfiction · 6 years

Note

a slasher of your choosing with a s/o whos a house husband and just wants to care for them?

You said Slasher of my choice and I heard…as many slashers as I could think of examples for so here we are. Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Michael, Jason, and Lizard

These are all gunna go up on AO3 as separate fics and I’m too lazy to link them all back here so

Bo Sinclair

It’s not a secret to you that Bo feels responsible for you, Lester, and Vincent. He took everything onto his own shoulders when it came to caring for the three of you, and making sure the city of Ambrose was up and running fully. More than once he’d come to you, drunk and in tears about his self perceived in ability to take care of you all.

So you do your best to take care of him in return. It’s the least you can do when he runs around with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Your own contribution to the household, at least when things are at ease, when there aren’t strangers running through Ambrose causing trouble, is to make dinners for the family. Everyday at the same time you make dinner, and have it set out on the table for the four of you to enjoy.

It was dinner time, but currently it was only you and Lester at the table. Vincent had already come, grabbed his plate, thanked you and left despite the way you tried to convince him to stay. He’d explained he was far too busy with his work, before disappearing off towards his workshop. Bo is late.Twenty minutes late. You’ve already told Lester to eat, and not to wait on his brother, although you don’t follow your own advice.

Another five minutes pass before you decide to do something.

“Was Bo at the station when you drove up?”

“Uh-Huh.”

You get up from the table with a sigh, moving to the stove, and beginning to make a plate for Bo.

“If Vincent comes back up let him know you and him can have the rest of this if y’all are still hungry okay? I’m gunna take a plate down to Bo. Don’t wait up.”

Once the home cooked meals secured in some plastic wrap you head out the door, ignoring the worried look from Lester.

The sun is just beginning to set, giving the whole town a faint glow. The empty town would be eery if not for the fact that you know you’re safe here. Just like the brothers, Ambrose is your home.

When you see Bo, you can’t help a joking whistle. He’s lent over the hood of your truck, trying to figure out what made the hunk of junk just stop working the other day. Your sudden appearance and whistle makes him jump. You can’t help but wince and giggle a bit when he almost hits his head on the hood. “Hey there handsome, you come here often?”

The fact that he missed dinner to work on your truck only makes you a little mad. After all, you’d already told him to forget about it. If you really needed to go into town you could go with him, or with Lester. Having three cars in the household was a bit excessive anyway. And yet, here he was, skipping out on dinner with you and his brothers to work on fixing your hunk of junk.

“Nah,” Bo flirts back, unaware of your slight irritation with him. “New in town.”

“Really?”

You make your way to him, holding the plate of food in one hand, and allowing your other to trail up his clothed chest once you’re close enough.

“Well…My husband isn’t going to be home in a few more hours if you wanna…play.”

It’s not the first time you two have played this game, pretending to be strangers, just usually it happens in a little bar in the middle of some town pretending to pick the other up and watching as strangers hopeless flirt with the other only to come home at the end of the day with each other.

“How could someone not wanna come home to you, sweet thing?”

Bo’s smirk only grows as he catches sight of your wedding ring, following your hand as it trails up his chest, his own matching one on his own hand, slightly dirty from his work.

Finally you push away, the teasing smile dropping from your face.

“I don’t know.” And you tap your foot, holding out the plate to him. “After all he missed dinner just to work on some stupid car even though I thought we’d agreed he wasn’t going to.”

“Is it already dinner time?”

The shock in Bo’s voice is enough to make you a little less mad. After all, if he just lost track of time that’s a bit more forgivable.

“We were waiting on you,” He takes the plate, and begins walking inside the station, holding the door open as you follow him.

“But I made sure Vincent and Lester went ahead and ate, because I didn’t know what was taking you.”

You want to continue to be mad, but it’s hard to keep the pout on your face as Bo kisses the top of your head.

“God babe, you’re the best.”

Vincent Sinclair“Vincent…”

Your voice is the only thing that breaks the silence of the workshop. Dressed in only your pajamas you make your way down the stairs to see your husband still bent over his work bench. You’d gone up to bed hours ago, under the promise that he would join you as soon as he finished, but you’d woken to find yourself once again alone.

“Come to bed, please?”

There’s no waste in time, as soon as you’re close enough you wrap your arms around him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“It’s the third night this week, when’s the last time you slept?”

He shrugs beneath you, muscles tense. He feels bad about ignoring you lately, you both know it. He’s just been too caught up in his work, wanting it to be perfect, it had to be perfect.

“You need to sleep baby…Come on.”

And much to your surprise, he agrees, with a heavy sigh he gets up, causing you to move out from behind him. You press your lips to his covered cheek.

“Thank you.”

Michael MyersBefore living with Michael you didn’t consider yourself very responsible, but that’s changed a bit. You didn’t know much about cooking, and you still don’t, but living with him in the old Myers’ house has been a growing experience for you as a person.

You’ve learned tons about cleaning and repair, along with the amount of first aid you’d quickly had to learn when it came to living with Michael.

For the most part Michael could take care of himself while out hunting on the streets, but nights like tonight someone would try, and fail, to get the better of him, and leave him injured in the process. But for every ten nights he returns home without incident there are nights like tonight where he comes home bloodied and bruised.

“Michael hold still- MIchael!”

And even after all this time together he still didn’t want to let you actually tend to his wounds, even though you both know if you don’t he’ll just let them fester until they either heal on their own or get infected.

It takes all the force you have to make him stay, and you both know he’s only sitting down because he’d decided to give in.

He’s pouting. Even if not physically, you can feel it rolling off of him in waves as you force him to let you disinfect the cut on his cheek.

“Honestly…you probably need stitches.”

You just sigh, knowing that it’s out of the question, and press the gauze and bandages into place.

“Now strip, I need to put your coveralls in the wash if you want to get the stains out.”

Dating Michael, had also, naturally, made you an expert at getting rid of blood stains.

Jason VoorheesJason got along fine before you lived with him, but it’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t improved his way of living drastically. The cabin he had made his home was old, and dilapidated and you had been the one to come in and say that just wouldn’t do. Slowly over time, you did tremendous work on the cabin. Replacing old wood with newer steadier planks, fixing any doors, and replacing broken windows.

By the time you were finished the cabin went from a simple dwelling, a place Jason came to rest his head after a night of killing camp counselors to a home. A home that he shared with you.

More than that though, you provided structure.

In the state he’s in, Jason doesn’t need to eat, and he hasn’t really tried. Still, that doesn’t stop him from being sure to be at the cabin everyday at 7 no matter what so he can sit at the table and have dinner with you. Even if he doesn’t eat it’s still nice. It’s like the two of you are a family.

It’s like he’s normal. You make him feel normal.

Lizard “What are you doing?”

You almost roll your eyes at the sound of your boyfriends voice. He was supposed to be out dealing with the van of people Goggles had reported seeing, but instead he was here, bothering you.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

You raise a brow as you gather the dirty laundry off your shared bedroom floor. Everyone in the Clan had a house, and as of late the one you share with Lizard had begun to become a pigstye. You really didn’t understand how someone who rarely wore a shirt could leave so much laundry for you to take care of.

“Cleaning.”

“Yeah Lizard, I’m cleaning. Don’t you have to be out laying spikes?”

You move around Lizard as you go, picking up your shared blanket as you go.

“Why are you doing this?”

There’s something in his voice that makes you stop. It’s not until you look at him that you realize that something is…wrong.

“Why are you taking care of me? I took care of myself before you came here, and I’ll take care of myself long after you’re gone!”

“Lizard…”

He’s worried about you leaving. About you deciding one day he isn’t good enough, and that you’ll run off with some ‘normal’.

With a heavy sigh you drop the laundry basket, and move in cupping his face in your hands.

“Lizard I love you. I clean up around here because I love you. Because everyone has their part around here, and I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

You press a kiss to his lips. It’s a soft kiss, until he decides to deepen it. Kissing with Lizard is always a unique experience, but you’d never trade it, or him for anything else.

“No go kick some ass.”

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zhydoesart · 5 years

Text

sometimes you have to lie to find the truth

Chapter 4: acting and dances

Ships: platonic(??) (not really) Roceit

Warnings: none

AO3

Notes: I drew some art for the fic, and it’s at the bottom of this post uvu I really liked how the second one turned out (also I’ve been watching TS vines for like two hours now, I just finished watching the fourth compilation)

Damien didn’t usually make it a practice of his to stick himself into others’ business or force himself where he didn’t belong, but Thomas hadn’t needed him for a video in several days and he was getting restless. (Well, okay, and maybe a touch lonely too.) He found himself wondering about what Roman was doing to pass the time, and took it upon himself to find out.

Roman was facing an empty stage, and Damien had appeared behind the curtain. After an indeterminable amount of time (Damien couldn’t tear his eyes away from the solitary, regal figure; it might’ve been only a minute or it might’ve been a minute), Roman took a deep breath and began speaking.

“He jests at scars that never felt a wound.”

That line was familiar, and Damien wracked his brain, trying to remember what it was from.

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” Ah–Romeo and Juliet. “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!” Damien was taken aback by the amount of pure feeling Roman was pouring into his lines. “Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that thou her maid art far more fair than she.” Damien wondered why Roman was reciting this scene from this play, as it didn’t seem relevant to anything, and Thomas had taken part in this play in high school.

“Be not her maid, since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.” Now Roman paced the stage, and Damien had to take a step further back behind the curtain so as not to be seen by Roman, since a part of him wanted to continue observing Roman’s performance (and if he was caught, he certainly wouldn’t be allowed to). He had a better view of Roman’s face now.

“It is my lady, oh, it is my love–oh, that she knew she were.” Interesting–Roman was changing up the inflection of the lines, as they were coming out much softer than directed. He stopped speaking and stood, as if listening, in the middle of the stage, before continuing, “She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? ...her eye discourses, I will answer it.” His expression puzzled, he opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, as if he’d thought better of it. “‘Tis not to me she speaks.”

By now, his pacing had become more of an improvised waltz as he pranced across the stage, and even from where he stood, shrouded by the curtain, Damien could see the passion in Roman’s green eyes.

“Two of the fairest stars in all the heavens, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres ‘til they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head?” Roman’s voice took on a dreamy, thoughtful quality. “The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp, her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were not night.” Once more, he halted in his constant movement. “See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek.”

Here, Roman paused, as if waiting for another to speak, and here Damien had a split-second of deliberation–he had less than a minute before Roman would move on, and right then, he wanted nothing more than to join in, but if he did, then Roman would know he’d been spying–

But he’d already uttered the line.

“Ay, me.”

Both the side on the stage and side behind the curtains froze, then Damien stepped out of the shadows. It was too late now anyway, Roman had clearly heard him, as was evident by the strawberry-colored blush on his face when he turned around.

“Didst thou spyest on me?” spluttered Roman. “No, really, h-how long have you been there?”

“Long enough.” Curious. Roman seemed so confident, so self-assured around the other sides, to the point of sometimes being narcissistic, but here he was, looking somewhat self-conscious and extremely mortified–but perhaps those words simply weren’t meant for Damien’s ears. “My apologies, it was definitely my intention to spy on you.” He recalled how… alive Roman had seemed while acting. “Leaping about the stage like that, you just looked so… uh… beautiful…” He muttered the last word, too embarrassed to say it aloud and too embarrassed to meet Roman’s eyes (although he did dare to look up long enough to see Roman’s–pleasantly?–surprised expression).

“Th-thank you.” The creative side had stuttered more in the past two minutes than Damien had ever heard him stutter the whole time he’d known Roman.

There was an awkward silence where Roman played with the edge of his sash.

“You know.” Roman looked up as Damien spoke. “Those times I flirted with you–it was never genuine.” Damien bit his lip, then stopped with a soft “ow” as he remembered he had fangs.

Roman’s eyes were wide. “Your lip is bleeding.” He took an unsure step forward.

“It’s–it’s not fine.” Damien touched his lip and winced. Worrying is absolutely necessary.”

“If you’re sure.”

Damien’s forked tongue totally didn’t dart out of his mouth to lick off the blood, and Roman’s eyes definitely didn’t follow its path as Damien retracted his tongue into his mouth.

“Dance with me,” said Roman suddenly. It was funny, Roman himself almost looked more surprised than Damien felt about what he’d just said.

“What?”

“I, uh… dance with me,” stammered Roman, holding out a hand to Damien while the other hand nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

Damien considered–he’d never really danced with anyone before, but on the other hand, Roman looked so earnest, and right now, he wanted nothing more. He placed his hand on top of the prince’s outstretched palm.

Roman snapped his fingers, and a song began to play out of nowhere. Damien didn’t recognize the tune, but it had a certain beat to it.

What happened next was kind of a blur. Damien’s main focus was on how Roman’s eyes shone with a certain something… he wasn’t sure what. The way Roman moved was powerful yet gentle, intense yet soft, full of energy even with an underlying calm. He was fire, beautiful, and dangerous, and if you got too close…

The next thing he knew, Roman, lost in the movement, had slipped. Roman flung out his arms in an attempt to catch himself, but Damien feared it wasn’t enough. In a near-instantaneous decision, he made a desperate dive to catch Roman.

Damien heaved a sigh–that had been close, he’d had to do the “stretchy arm” thing, as the others insisted on calling it, in order to catch Roman in time. Looking Roman over, he seemed to be unhurt, and was, in fact, sporting a sly grin as he gazed up at Damien.

“Guess I can always count on my knight in shining armor to save the day.”

There were many things wrong with this situation. First, the tone Roman had used was one he used exclusively for flirting, and while Damien knew of Roman’s tendency to flirt excessively, he was not one of the three the creative side was dating. Secondly, Damien was acutely aware of the hand cupping either side of his face, as well as the blush which probably covered the human half. Thirdly, when had the music changed? …he wasn’t sure how to feel about the way Roman’s eyes kept darting back to his lips.

He let go of Roman rather abruptly, who flushed once more as he realized what he’d just been doing, which led to an awkward coughing session as they both examined the cracks between the wooden planks in the floor of the stage.

Something that felt like a hand latched onto Damien’s shoulder, and he stood stock still. Sharp talons dug into his arm, and the look on his face must’ve displayed the terror he was feeling because Roman stopped himself from laughing just in time.

“It’s alright, Damien, that’s my pet phoenix Aodh.” Roman took a step forward, holding out one arm, and in a ruffle of feathers, the phoenix alighted on his arm.

Damien had to admit that the bird was beautiful, bright reds fading into orange, then to yellow, which reminded him of a sunset. Still, the bird was enormous, and that pointed beak and those curved talons weren’t something to take lightly.

“You have a pet phoenix?”

Roman chuckled. “Do you want to touch her feathers?” Damien wasn’t quite so sure that he did, but he took a step closer to appease Roman.

Cautiously, Damien held a hand in front of the bird. He had no clue what the proper etiquette for petting a phoenix was, so he’d resorted to the way one might hold a hand out for a cat or dog. She looked him over shrewdly, but slowly lowered her head as if to give him permission. Roman nodded reassuringly, so Damien started to gently run his hand over the feathers on her head; they were surprisingly soft.

After Damien left, Roman didn’t teleport straight to his room. He didn’t collapse on his bed, and he definitely didn’t scream into his pillow on and off for ten minutes.

taglist:

@liberalautisticqueernerd831

#sympathetic deceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders side fic #sanders sides art #sometimes you have to lie chapter #deceit sanders #ts deceit #tw deceit #roman sanders #ts roman #roceit #ts roceit

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solastia · 6 years

Text

Rogues And Charlatans | 2

Pairing: Yoongi x Seokjin

Word Count: 2,998

Summary: What is a gang leader supposed to do when his longtime rival shows up at his door, beaten and begging for help? Defend their honor, of course.

Warnings & Genre: Mafia!au, Fluff, and poorly attempted crack. There will be light violence, but nothing overly graphic. Maybe one person gets shot point blank. As of now, I don’t think I’ll be putting in any smut, but who knows. Basically, this isn’t a dark and serious mafia fic. It’s just a bunch of crooks in love, y’all.

Yoongi shuffled sleepily from his room, rubbing a bit at his swollen eyes. He’d only managed to get about three hours of sleep, having stayed up to ask around about the people that had Jungkook. Not much seemed to be known about them except that they were the bad kind of bad. The kind that didn’t much care about who got killed on their way to get what they want. Yoongi could be vicious himself, had to be to get where he was, but even he knew not to cross certain lines. He was a bad man, but not evil. And some of the stories he’d been told bordered on insane. He would not feel bad taking these guys out.

The door to Seokjin’s room was slightly ajar, so he peeked in, snorting at the excessively loud snoring coming from the man. He was nowhere near Namjoon’s level, who could be heard from all the way downstairs if he left his door open, but it wasn’t gentle rumbling either. Yoongi knew the man would deny that he snored even if presented with video evidence, so he simply kept the knowledge to himself. He kinda liked knowing something so intimate about him that he hadn’t known before.

That was the other thing that had kept Yoongi from getting much sleep. He wasn’t stupid or completely oblivious. He knew that Seokjin was attractive. It was something he’d always been aware of, same as he was aware that grass is green and fire is hot. It was just a fact. He also respected and admired him. He claimed he was his enemy purely for the fact that they were rivals; big time bosses living in the same town were destined to be. He’d fuck around with Seokjin’s jobs and he would return the favor. But they’d never acted against each other in bad blood. In fact, Yoongi felt honored that Seokjin would come to him in his hour of need. That didn’t explain his current feelings, however.

He’d spent most of the early morning hours with sharp pains in his chest anytime he pictured the way Seokjin had appeared near death on his porch. The thought that the ridiculous fool who didn’t act like a gang leader ninety percent of the time, instead choosing to send his rival birthday presents and Christmas cookies, could have been gone so easily didn’t sit well with him at all. In fact, it felt like one of his own had been attacked, but more.

Yoongi highly suspected it had something to do with his sudden desire to kiss the other awake.

He inhaled sharply and promptly turned away from the room, choosing instead to go to the kitchen. Seokjin would probably need another pill when he woke up, so Yoongi put together some porridge for him, along with some bread and fruit. For himself, he just scarfed down a croissant and a couple cups of coffee while he was cooking. Standard fare, to be honest.

He lugged the heavy tray back up the stairs and entered Seokjin’s room. The snoring was gone although the man’s eyes were stilled closed. He appeared near enough to waking up himself that Yoongi didn’t feel too bad.

“Rise and wipe up your drool. Brought you some breakfast.”

Seokjin’s moans as he slowly rose to a sitting position did nothing to Yoongi’s nether regions that anyone could prove.

Yoongi cleared his throat as he willed his thoughts out of the gutter and set the tray across the other’s lap. He shook a pill out of the bottle on the nightstand and pushed that over, along with a glass of water that the other silently accepted.

Seokjin’s hair was all over the place, which brought Yoongi no little amount of joy. The man was notoriously obsessed with his appearance, and to be able to see him like this was quite a treat. He was sure that he didn’t look much better, but he also didn’t really care. Sleep did wonders for Seokjin’s lips, however, plumping them up even more than Yoongi had thought possible. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

Fuck.

“Thank you, Yoongi. Had I known I would get treated like a Queen, I would have come here every time I got hurt.”

“Yeah, well, stop getting hurt. That’s what your goons are for.”

Seokjin chuckled gently then popped his pill, guzzling the water down noisily. Yoongi took the chance to load up the spoon, blowing on it a bit before bringing it to Seokjin’s waiting mouth. They settled into the comfortable routine from the night before; Yoongi patiently feeding Seokjin as the other tried to let him with only a little bit of fussing and demands for Yoongi to eat too.

Yoongi cleared his throat, ready to talk about the day now that he though Seokjin sufficiently awake and comfortable.

“So, I asked around and found the location where the gangs most likely held up. I sent some people out to look around and make sure that’s where Jungkook is. As soon as I hear the word, Namjoon and I will take some men out to get him.”

“I’m going too.”

“No, you are not. You are going to stay right where you are. Not only are you hurt, but you’re on meds too,” Yoongi glares, which would make a normal man cower, did nothing in the face of Seokjin’s determination.

“Yoongi. He’s my baby brother. Please.” Seokjin’s lip wobbled as he picked up Yoongi’s hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of it as his pretty eyes filled with tears.

This god damned cheater.

“Fine. We are waiting until the meds are out first.”

Seokjin unfolded the napkin next to his plate, grinning cheekily at Yoongi, his previous tears suddenly forgotten. Yoongi peered over suspiciously, cursing as he spotted the pain pill he’d given Seokjin.

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me go otherwise.”

“You sneaky bastard. Fine, be in agonizing pain. What the fuck do I care?”

“Yoongi,” Seokjin says softly. “It’ll be fine. I can do what I have to do. I can’t just stand by and wait, not knowing if he’s okay or not. I have to go with you. It’s my fault they wanted him in the first place.”

Yoongi sighs and ruffles his hair in frustration.

“You’ll stay by me,” he growled. “No wandering off, no trying to play hero. I know you are normally the big bad leader, but you are injured. You have to be realistic.”

“I promise. I came to you for help, so this is your show. I just want to be a part of it.”

“If you get shot, I won’t be sad. It’ll be your own damn fault.”

“Not even a little?” Seokjin pouts.

“Nope.”

Yoongi had forgotten his hand was still in Seokjin’s custody until the other uses it to pull him closer, smiling gently and so close that Yoongi could feel puffs of hot breath against his lips. He swallowed hard, his mouth going dry as he looked into Seokjin’s warm gaze.

“Your words say one thing. I can see the truth,” Seokjin purred. Yoongi felt a shiver travel down his spine.

He knew he was blushing enough that there was no way for the other to miss it. Still, he had to at least attempt to save his last shred of dignity.

“You see nothing. Your eyes are swollen.”

Seokjin’s eyes flickered down to Yoongi’s mouth, his expressional thoughtful as a low hum came from his throat. Finally, after what seemed like forever to Yoongi, the other backed off slowly and his eyes were once again teasing.

“So they are.”

Yoongi exhaled heavily, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath. Had Seokjin almost kissed him? It had certainly felt like it. Would Yoongi have minded?

No. He didn’t think he would have.

They watched each other in silence for a few moments before the peace was interrupted by a loud crash from downstairs.

“Where the fuck is he? Jin? Jinnie?”

Yoongi quirked an eyebrow at Seokjin, who was silently laughing at Yoongi’s apparently amusing disgruntled face.

“Up here, Jiminie!” Seokjin yelled loud enough to make Yoongi flinch and pull his hand away, trying his best to appear unbothered.

At the doorway of the bedroom suddenly appeared Park, looking exactly like an angry little terrier that had once chased Yoongi home from school. Only the pup hadn’t aimed a gun at him.

“Let him go.”

Yoongi was impressed. He hadn’t thought the kid had it in him, but that voice was nearly scary enough that it would have made him think twice in any other situation.

“Jiminie, it’s fine. Yoongi helped me. See, I have food, a big fancy bedroom, a little pretty thing waiting on me hand and foot.”

Yoongi shot a glare at the giggling man, before turning back to Park. He didn’t want to hurt the kid if he didn’t back down, but he really did not like guns in his face. He preferred to be on the other end, thank you very much.

Jimin’s shoulder’s finally sagged and he put the gun away, running a hand through his hair as he strode over to the bedside.

“Thank fuck. All I heard Hoseok say was that you were here and hurt and I rushed over.”

“Did you say Hoseok? He works for you too? Doctor Turncoat strikes again, I see.” Seokjin sighs. “I’m doing much better now, Jiminie, thanks to Yoongi. Although I’m guessing you didn’t hear the part about Jungkook.”

“There’s something wrong with Kookie? I’ve been trying to call and text him for two days!”

“He’s been taken hostage. I was going to try to get him back through a deal, but as you can see that didn’t go well. They are really just trying to take out all the local bosses to gain power. Yoongi’s going to help get him back.”

Jimin’s face went through a myriad of emotions from shock to sorrow, until it finally settled on anger. “I’m going too.”

Yoongi growled, already overwhelmed with the situation as it was. “Dammit. I have plenty of men of my own and I don’t need outside people fucking things up. I have it handled, Park.”

“Fuck you! Jungkook is my boyfriend, and if there’s going to be any rescuing done, it will be by me,” Jimin yelled, shaking his fist dangerously close to Yoongi’s face.

“This isn’t a contest. It’s about getting the job done with the least amount of issues. I’m sorry, but I don’t know enough about your style to trust you with this.”

“Either you take me with you and we work together, or I show up and do my own thing. Whatever happens, I’m still going to be there.”

Yoongi gritted his teeth and studied Jimin, cataloging everything that could go wrong in his head, but also intrigued by the other’s raw determination. Finally, he sighed and turned to Seokjin.

“Jin, it’s your brother. This is up to you. Do you trust him?”

“I do,” He nodded. “He’s scary as hell when you get him angry, but he’s good to my Jungkook, and that’s what matters to me. He’s a good kid, Yoongi.”

“Fine. You stay close. Until we get to Jungkook, Seokjin’s safety is the most important since he’s injured. When my team gets back to me, we’ll set up a plan and head out.”

“I really think that I - “

“No.” Yoongi interrupted sharply, standing up with a scowl. “You want to join, fine. However, I am in charge here. Seokjin and I have seniority here, and if you want to live and save your boyfriend, you’ll do as I say.”

“I’ll be in my office if you need me,” he said to the room as he strode towards the door. He paused and grabbed the frame, snarling over his shoulder.

“By the way, never point a gun in my face again. If you do, you better pull the trigger fast, because I won’t hesitate again. I don’t care who you’re friends with.”

With his piece said, he began stomping down the stairs, hoping it helped make his point.

“He’s kinda cute when he’s angry, isn’t he.”

Yoongi paused and sputtered. God damn that Park kid.

“Adorable.”

The laughter in Seokjin’s reply hinted that he knew Yoongi could hear them.

“Fuck you both!” He hollered up the stairs as the two of them laughed even more.

At the foot of the stairs, he was met with Namjoon, holding a big designer bag as he stared at the cracked front door. When Yoongi got to his side he smiled in greeting and gestured at the splintered wood with his head.

“Oh, hey boss. What’s with the door?”

“It’s because you suck as a bodyguard. Park Jimin is upstairs. Thought I was holding Seokjin hostage and torturing him or something.”

“Good thing I’m not technically a bodyguard then. Everythings cool?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi sighed wearily. “Apparently, this rescue mission is becoming a party that anyone can invite themselves to. What’s in the bag?”

“Ah, Hoseok took me to go pick up some clothes and things for Mr. Kim.”

Nodding, Yoongi reached out for it. “I got it.”

Namjoon grinned and handed it over silently before heading towards the direction of Yoongi’s office, leaving Yoongi to make the trek back upstairs. He heard hushed whispers that abruptly stopped as soon as he was near the door. He stuck his head in, knocking on the wall. Jimin was smirking at him like he knew something Yoongi didn’t, while Seokjin’s face was red enough it looked near to bursting.

“Got some of your things for you here courtesy of Doctor Turncoat,” he said, striding up to the bed and placing the bag at the end of it. “Feels like he packed your whole house.”

“Bless Hobi. I take back everything.”

Yoongi snorts and walks towards the head of the bed, getting ready to kick Jimin out so Seokjin could rest. His phone vibrates in his pocket, so he pulls it out and reads the multiple messages that begin streaming in with a furrowed brow.

“Everything okay?” Seokjin asks. Yoongi sits down on the bed and without even thinking, he grabbed Jin’s hand to reassure him.

“It’s my men. They’ve surrounded the building and have someone inside that has confirmed Jungkook’s location. The leader is there and Jungkook only has one guard. They’ll only be there until tomorrow, so we have to move tonight.”

Seokjin releases a loud breath before nodding, worry and relief battling in his eyes. At least they knew where Jungkook was now.

Jimin jumps up and sports a grim expression as he looks at Yoongi.

“I’ll go get geared up and then meet back here. What time?”

“Six. They’ll expect us to come late in the night, so we’ll hit em earlier while their guard is down. Travel light, only essentials. I have plenty of men to cover us.”

Jimin nods and reaches over to squeeze Seokjin’s shoulder before he leaves in a matter as abrupt as his entrance.

Yoongi sighs. “I should make the brat pay for my door.”

Seokjin giggles, his grip tightening on the hand that Yoongi just now realized was still clasped with his. Holding hands with Kim Seokjin was much too easy and felt too...right.

“Send him a bill for it as a wedding present when he and Kook finally get hitched. It’ll be funnier that way.”

Yoongi laughs loudly, unable to hold back. “You’re so devious. One of your finer qualities.”

He could have sworn that Seokjin was blushing, but it couldn’t be because of him. No, he was probably just feverish. He was hurt, after all.

“You take this time to rest. I’m going to see if I can get some camera footage on the place. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

Yoongi went to stand up only for Seokjin to gently pull him towards him, pressing a soft kiss near the edge of his lips. He pulled away quickly, patting the top of Yoongi’s disoriented head like a dog.

“Thank you for everything, Yoongi. I’ll be fine. Don’t forget to eat well. We’ll need you at your best tonight.”

Seokjin shooed him from the room, Yoongi’s mind still too filled with fog to do much more than do as he’s told. He wanders towards the kitchen, making himself a sandwich before he goes to join Namjoon in his office.

He was very much afraid that flutter in his stomach had less to do with hunger and more with that four letter emotion he’s been refusing to name.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #mafia!au #mafia!bts #yoongi fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoonjin fanfic #yoonjin #yoongi #seokjin #solastia

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mimiplaysgames · 6 years

Text

Strength to Protect the Things That Matter (Ch. 25)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Word Count: 5,631

Summary: Terra has prayed for years for relief from having no one to talk to in the dark, except with the monster of a man who stole his life. One day, when two boys chase a lead, he gets his chance - less than a week - to set things right before he loses everything again.

AO3 FFnet

A/N: I had a flashback scene of Terra interacting with Ventus that was supposed to appear in Ch. 15, “Confession,” toward the end. It seemed like a footnote after the flashback with Aqua in that chapter, so I removed it. I then moved it to Ch. 17, “Vacation.” Terra was supposed to think about this scene right before he helps Sora stand up, finding out where Ventus has been all along. But it lengthened it too much (in a chapter that was so damn long anyway), that I moved it to the beginning of this chapter. And it stuck out like a sore thumb. So this scene will not appear in this specific fic at all and will have to find a place somewhere else, lmao! I can’t believe I am at this part now. It’s almost done! Also, I will be posting WIP updates on Mondays and Thursdays (with the occasional extra Saturday). I put up a dated schedule that you can access here.

Fall

“You have to admit,” Terra said as Aqua dipped two fingers into a small tin of black paint, “you’re having fun.”

Swirling them into the paint, Aqua attempted to muster some strength to keep herself from grinning. But she failed.

“When the Master said we needed to restore the natural balance by retrieving a living boy from the Land of the Dead,” she said, “I don’t think he ever expected us to be doing this.”

She finished painting his eyes, and moved on to his nose.

The last time they made such a colorful mess together, they finger-painted goblins dancing on flowers, on a corner wall tucked away in the castle by the piano. Eraqus spared them the lecture and actually kept their mural all these years.

The last time they touched this much, they were young, long before Terra had developed blood-pumping feelings at the feel of her skin, or from being so close to her. They used to play-fight and wrestle, before he avoided such activity with her nowadays.

Two months until their Mark of Mastery exam, they were now in the Land of the Dead, where she was tracing his nose cartilage. They were on a mission, but Terra admitted he was grateful it gave him the allowance to enjoy so much contact with her.

It turned out that the Land of the Dead had gorgeous streets full of light and vibrant color. It featured buildings for homes, festivals, art shows, museums, and anything designed for entertaining all types of personalities. It was like a tourist attraction, and it had everything a person looking for fun and adventure would expect. Except rain. It didn’t rain here. The dark belly under a bridge where they were hiding for now harbored no puddles.

The people here, of course, were all skeletons. It didn’t take much effort to find the boy, Miguel, the person of interest in a world he didn’t belong. Which brought another problem – Terra and Aqua, too, had warm skin and pulses.

Aqua was against Miguel’s wish to reconnect with one of his famous singing ancestors, believing it too much of a risk for his own life. (She was very sympathetic to his need to pursue music, for she, too, adored it.) When Miguel’s family members, who were his ticket back home, didn’t approve of his obsession, she believed that they could be reasoned with.

Terra agreed with Miguel, believing that the boy had a right to follow his passion no matter what anyone said. He was aware that Miguel had a very limited time in this realm, which could be fatal, but they had enough time, and this created a similar dynamic to all the times Terra and Ventus tag-teamed against her. Essentially pushed into a corner, Aqua went ahead and agreed to do it their way.

The plan was to blend in. A dead friend of Miguel’s, Héctor, went off to find them some clothes large enough to hide their breathing bodies.

Aqua was painting a calavera on Terra’s face to make him look like a skeleton. She traced one finger to make lines across his lips. The paint felt goopy and thick, but her touch was brisk, graceful, yet determined. It was so like her to move this way, and he had to keep reminding himself to stay calm and not let his mind wander on the touch. There were definitely some things he’d like her to do with his lips, and tracing them was not a typical thing best friends did together, right?

Neither was touching the neck this much, but she had to give the illusion that he didn’t have flesh anymore. She was careful enough not to push onto his laryngeal prominence, at the very least. But no care could be given to ease how he was feeling anyway.

Terra, if anything, felt immensely grateful when Miguel, who already had his calavera finished and was wearing a red hoodie to hide the rest, arrived to check up on her progress. An empty, cool feeling lingered on his collarbone as she finished her work.

Miguel burst into a fit of laughter. “I think you would even scare away la parca… the Grim Reaper.”

“What?” He picked up a cracked and foggy mirror laying on the ground next to him.

Aqua had traced and covered his brows with black paint when she hollowed out his eyes. What looked back at him was a very angry skeleton, where the black color gave the impression that his eyes were even darker.

“What gives? You made me look so scary,” Terra told her.

She covered her mouth with her wrist as she giggled, careful not to mess her bare face up. “I’m sorry, I was trying to trace your face to make it look natural,” she said.

When Terra attempted to swipe the tin can away, she evaded – which was usual. Ten years growing up and sparring together, she became a master at dodging him.

“I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it,” she said, swatting his hand away.

“You can add loops and dots.” Miguel traced his finger in the air as an example. “Or maybe something cute to trick the children,” he said with an impish grin.

She dipped her finger into the tin again and quickly went over some lines on his cheekbones and forehead. The mirror showed that she drew some loops around his imagined eye sockets, and a heart right above the bridge of his nose. His chest skipped a beat, careful not to read too much into why she picked a heart for him. But it didn’t make him look any sweeter.

“Now I look like the Evil Lord of Love,” Terra said.

She snorted and Miguel held his stomach, out of breath from his laughter.

“It’s the best I can do,” she said. It was most likely far from the truth. She was probably way too entertained to fix it for real. “My turn now.” She pushed her hair off her face and handed the tin over to Terra.

Ten years growing up and sparring together didn’t prepare Terra for this, but he became a master at hiding his emotions anyway. Each time he traced a brow or a cheekbone in black, or rubbed white onto her cheeks, he consciously breathed out of his nose. It made him look more relaxed and focused that way.

Which proved to be difficult when he finished painting her eyelids. She opened them, and the darkness gave just enough contrast to make her bright, beautiful eyes pop. They might as well be jewels. He wasn’t even aware he was staring until she asked him if something didn’t look right.

Calm and collected, his voice was smooth enough that there wasn’t an ounce of shake to it. “I was checking to see if everything was even,” he said simply.

He was aware of his posture, careful not to lean into her. Even though he really wanted to, especially when tracing her lips. Soft and supple, he had often wanted to feel them. Once wasn’t enough either. Each time he dipped his finger back into the paint was another chance at learning what her lips were like.

He made sure to give her the same amount of care when tracing her neck too. Looking at her head lean back that way, tracing her chin, and coloring down to her crevice – it was better, as painful as it was, to finish the job than to let it drag.

It hurt enough to make Terra almost consider asking Eraqus to assign them on missions separately. Almost. There was too much enjoyment thrown into the mix as well.

The wave of relief that came when he finally closed the tin can was like being salvaged from hunger. Aqua looked into the mirror and approved of his work. Terra even gave her some doodles of small, simple flowers on her temples. Now she looked like everyone else in this world.

A skeleton soon approached them, wearing a straw hat and clothes that were so worn down they had rips and holes. Illuminated from the decorative lights of the streets, Héctor carried a couple of pieces of garments with hoods that he collected for them.

He handed Terra a bomber jacket, to hide the machismo, and stared at Aqua’s artistry on his face. “You trying to romance a demon?” he asked.

“Don’t ask,” Terra said, quickly putting on the jacket, wanting very much to keep any attention away from himself.

“And for the lady,” Héctor said, “a large cloak to hide all the... well, todo eso. Everything.” He made gestures as if to suggest curvature.

The cloak was such a dark brown that it almost seemed black. It was meant for a very tall person: it hung loosely off her shoulders, and dragged onto the floor with the sleeves draping off her fingers.

“I look ridiculous,” she said.

It was Terra’s instinct to cover her mouth for politeness’ sake, but then he’d have to trace her lips again with paint. Truthfully, she looked adorable - though he’d never say it out loud, or she would slap him with excess sleeve.

“It’s more important we blend in,” Terra said.

“Tiene razón. He has reason,” Héctor said. He glanced back and forth between Terra and Aqua, judging them. “Bueno…” he said in a way to suggest that he had no choice but to work with what he got, “You do both look like Fulano y Fulana de Tal.”

Terra’s head shook ever so slightly as his eyes narrowed. “What?”

Miguel dug his hands into his pockets. “He called you some dudes that came from nowhere.”

“Well, if it works…” Aqua mumbled to herself, following the others as they emerged from under the bridge. Her sleeves flopped back and forth as she walked.

The Land of the Dead kept a record of time. The buildings were so tall they were like skyscrapers, with each ascension more modern than the foundation it leaned on. It was as if they kept building on top of old structures, with the bottom floors a remnant of some ancient past. The music and the fireworks, all prepared to celebrate Día de los Muertos, told Terra that death was just a passage to something more exciting beyond what life could give.

It was comforting to know that whenever it was time for Master Eraqus to go, it wouldn’t be a place of suffering (or even boredom). But the separation still had to leave a scar to those left behind, right?

The people here were enjoying themselves, yes. Probably waiting for their own loved ones to join them and make the experience even better.

Héctor led them to the slums. Huts, boats, and wood houses gathered at the harbor down below the city, where the forgotten spirits dwelled. A neighborhood for those who didn’t have their photos propped up on their families’ ofrenda, a shrine where the living honor and remember their deceased relatives. These spirits therefore found family with each other.

The goal was to get Miguel a guitar. The nearby festival was set up in honor of Miguel’s relative, and he needed a musical instrument to enter the competition - and actually get a chance to meet.

The guitar was kept by Chicharrón, a friend of Héctor’s who lived in a wooden house at the end of the dock. He had to have been a hoarder, considering the stacks of random junk inside. Everything looked discarded, as if he was too exhausted to keep it all organized. As if he was the kind of person to desperately find something to hold onto through objects. Only the moonlight illuminated the entirely of the hut, as if he shunned away the joy and bright lights that paraded outside. It reflected on him as well – the bone on his skull and knuckles look sanded down, as if he wasn’t well-preserved.

Chicharrón, lying in a hammock buried under a pile of even more random trinkets, scowled when he took one look at Terra’s face. “Héctor, who gave you the right to bring el diablo here?”

“Even I don’t have the skill to convince the devil to do anything. He came on his own, acere,” Héctor said, as if addressing a friend.

They both argued over the guitar, and agreed that Miguel could use it under one specific condition: that Héctor would sing a song. His friend wanted to savor some enjoyment left, because the guitar was the last thing that was able to give him just that.

And so Héctor sang. A folk song about a woman everyone knew named Juanita. It sounded like a beautiful love song at first. Miguel sat on his knees, in awe of the talent. Aqua had her hand to her chest, her eyes watering over the sweetness of the composition. Juanita was someone whose teeth stuck out, and a chin that caved inward. She wore her hair like shrubbery, and walked funny.

But the songwriter believed himself so ugly that she wouldn’t have considered him a proper suitor.

Terra had expected the song to end sarcastically, but the revelation of such adoration left a hard lump in his throat. What would it have taken for Aqua to give him a chance like that?

The song ended. Chicharrón, satisfied and making peace with whatever was in his mind, disintegrated into dust, the wind carrying away his remnants. He left behind a mess of all he thought was important, now discarded and unaccounted for, alone on that hammock.

It was the Second Death, a process for all whose living family members have forgotten they existed. He didn’t have anyone left in the Land of the Living who cared for him.

It wasn’t gory or terrifying. If anything, it was a pretty sight, but it was the most gruesome thing Terra ever witnessed.

The only source illuminating the clown and the streets around them is the moonlight. Kefka takes one step forward, and Terra prepares a lunge forward, aiming for the knees.

But there is a swish, and a sphere of a gravitational contortion to push the beast back. The young version of Xehanort jumps from the roof he has been patiently waiting on, throwing all of his magical strength onto Kefka with that glowing, teal Keyblade of his.

Terra takes this opportunity to sprint towards the end of the block, where the hospital meets an alleyway, and places the duffel bag of elixirs into a nook. Away from the battlefield. Safe. Hopefully.

Garnet follows close by, and he expects that it will be this way – he will fight, and she will mend his injuries from behind. They just need to survive ten minutes. Leave too soon and Kefka will follow them back to the others.

Xehanort lands near them, resting his Keyblade on his shoulder as Kefka stands back up. “Of all the people you lug around after our warning,” he says, “you follow the one target that pits you in such danger. It’s reckless.”

Terra is about to bark that he will not tolerate any word from Xehanort’s mouth, but there is the clown to mind. Xehanort doesn’t give Terra any chance to say anything, quickly turning his attention on the Heartless.

Xehanort’s powers of teleportation aid him in evading each and every attack, at no cost to his energy. His magic is explosive, and he takes any opportunity to hit at Kefka’s ankles and knees in order to bring it down. Kefka’s body is, of course, sturdy like diamonds.

Terra doesn’t want to ally with him. If anything, Xehanort is just as much as a threat. If he doesn’t stay focused, he might lose his body again. And he can’t afford it. Not tonight. Not ever. Not until Aqua is free can he relax and let go. Not until Garnet is safe.

He swings Ends of the Earth to let out a shockwave of light that sears the cobblestones of the streets. He follows it with a swipe of the old man’s nameless Keyblade, letting out a blow of darkness that doubles the force, ravaging all in its path. It’s certainly an aid to all of Xehanort’s acrobatics. The bastard proves himself a worthy front man to be thrown at risk, so that Terra doesn’t have to put himself or Garnet in the direct line of danger.

But he’s too good to dispose himself.

And yet Terra is not giving out his full effort. Use the darkness, damn it, but not too much. He can’t lose control. The old man will use it to wrest his body back.

Already, there is a headache forming.

He must be stumbling too much, because Garnet seems to keep getting the impression that he is injured. He feels her healing magic envelope around him, and it takes away the hair-pulling headache. So he continues this pattern. Throw light and darkness, dodge, get tired and stumble from the pain, have her heal him. Continue.

Kefka changes its pattern to dance, creating random explosions throughout the area in an attempt to hit Xehanort. Debris crumbles, shaking the ground and tripping Garnet. It’s like an instinct, and Terra forgets he has two enemies near him, shielding her until the explosions stop.

“The bombs won’t ignite!” she says as she looks up at him. “I must have wired them incorrectly.”

She has a remote in her hand. The electric bombs planted in the office building across the street are still. Unless they can get Kefka to ram into them, they will stay silent.

She yelps. The reason why, he sees approaching them. Heartless waggle in patterns as if they can’t tell what they are aiming for. Maybe the potion still has some effect, and the Heartless cannot target them specifically. But it’s still a huge problem.

It takes too much thinking and concentration during such a heated moment to tap into Xemnas’ powers, but he tries anyway. The smaller debris floats up and above the ground, and with a wave of both Keyblades, he sends them flying to smack the various types of monstrosities that are invading the battle space.

“Terra, I need your aid!”

The voice is from behind. Xehanort blocks attacks from Kefka’s six poisonous swords.

Pfft. Let him die. Let him suffer the way Rydia is.

... But then if he’s not there, Kefka would go after them.

Terra focuses his mind on larger masses of plaster, glass, and brick that used to be part of the hospital. They are harder to move, and sweat drops trickle down his forehead. He points his Keyblades at them, as though they are wands to help him take control. They float higher, and with huge swings toward the direction of the clown, he manages to hurl them. Kefka falls back.

But not far enough to hit the office building, where the bombs lay waiting. Terra has managed to hit it in the face. The clown will soon come for him later.

Xehanort flashes him a look of disbelief, disgust emanating from his round eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Terra, they’re surrounding us!” he hears Garnet yelling from behind. Heartless continue to come in droves.

Fight. Or protect. Dammit, why can’t I have both?

It’s like a stupor that stops him from doing anything as he thinks about his next move. A Heartless lunges at her.

As though his body is responding, a straight wall of bright, electric energy erects in front of the princess. The monster gets shocked by this aggressive barrier, and it all disappears.

It doesn’t hurt. It’s like the fireball he made appear out of nothing. This has to be Xemnas’ powers.

“Stay close to me!” Terra says.

She stands back-to-back with him, and he waves his arms one by one, a Keyblade in each hand, in swift movements that gesture from the ground toward the sky. He visualizes this new kind of barrier forming as fast as a lightning bolt, and it follows. Against any direction where a Heartless is wandering too close.

To be so effective at protecting, while attacking at the same time... It’s like cheating, and it’s great. If only it is more intuitive so that he can do it faster. If only he doesn’t have to think about it, so he wouldn’t get so tired.

Kefka charges toward him. It prepares a force of energy and sends a fistful of it. Terra prays that the barrier will stick around this time. Kefka’s hand meets his wall, electricity sparking to and fro that Terra feels the pain of it in his forearms, as he wills it keep standing.

Something, some kind of energy flickers throughout his skin and reverberates his entire body. Silence.

Everything around him is frozen in time. There is Kefka’s screwed mask for a face, its glowing yellow eyes staring down on him, its smile glued. His barrier is still there, the electricity coming out of it, but it’s stuck in some never-ending moment. The Heartless stuck in postures, as if they are living photographs. Garnet behind him, also immobilized, holding her shortstaff close to her chest, meeting eye-to-eye with some tall shadow that stares back at her.

He has never seen time magic this effective and this far-reaching.

Xehanort pants, adjusting his black cloak. “Why do you insist on holding yourself back when you have all this power at your disposal?” he asks as he approaches.

This can’t be the time when Terra loses, all alone in a timeless space with the one man who will take away everything. He can’t touch Garnet without potentially harming her, the velocity of his movement too fast in relation to the paralyzed state she’s in.

“Unfreeze her,” he commands.

“I was under the impression you wanted to have control over your own body,” Xehanort says, wiping dirt off a sleeve.

“Unfreeze her, now.”

“So the puppet is finally given the chance at controlling the strings that once possessed him, but he hasn’t the courage to take advantage of it?”

“I’d rather cut them.” He stares hard at Xehanort. Perhaps this is foolish, considering that he doesn’t know how long the spell will last. If Kefka unfreezes now, it’s all over anyway. But if he takes his eyes off Xehanort…

Xehanort smirks. “That still assumes you are in control. You won’t be able to have it if my older self is still the puppeteer. You want to rely on powers of nothingness, which you have little understanding of, when darkness will give you all the endless possibilities for power you seek.”

This hits too close to home, darkness tied to all of his limbs. Loss of control and he’s a doll for someone else’s benefit again.

Furthermore, he wishes Xehanort would stop talking to him like he’s stupid. To use darkness too much is the one thing that will make him fall. He grips both Keyblades. Perhaps he has an advantage since he has one more weapon. “It’s just hatred and rage, and I don’t need it.”

Xehanort widens his eyes. “Is that what you think it is? How infantile.” His eyes glass over, and he cocks his head gently, like he’s talking to a child. “It is merely a first step to tap into powers of darkness through negative emotions, with fear being the wildcard because it is the only emotion that is useless as a weapon. But you – and whoever taught you that – are mistaken.

“Fear is only useful in reminding you of threats. It is the one thing that will make you weak. Not darkness. You want your life back? Then take control of it. You may use your anger and your hatred of Kefka to strengthen your power. But to imply that is all there is – do you think it was love that motivated Eraqus to wield light in his attempt to murder Ventus?”

“Don’t talk about them!” Terra barks.

“Light and darkness are all part of the same existence. In the end, they are simple tools. Do not aim to convince yourself that darkness is nothing but horrid impulses. You can love and protect with darkness. You can be driven mad by the blinding power of light.”

Riku comes to mind. Use darkness and turn it into light, he has said. To build the strength to protect what matters. Is this what he means? Is it enough to have good intentions? Or does the old man have too much experience with such things that it’s futile to try to take the strings for himself?

Garnet is the first to unfreeze. “Terra, what in the world-”

“Move!” He holds her bicep and escorts her down the street.

He hears the blast Kefka has prepared for them, crushing a mob of minor Heartless instead.

Garnet screams his name. A Darkside, looming tall over them, contemplates its next move. It digs its hand into the ground and a portal opens up, a swarm of Shadows crawling out of it.

They run away. Worse still is the inky blackness that surrounds them and covers the entire street. He can’t see anything, except for yellow eyes squirming around everywhere. And suddenly he’s alone, the princess no longer by his side.

He hears Kefka’s footsteps, stomping the ground underneath it. It moves slowly, like it doesn’t know what to attack next. So it dances, explosions taking random pot shots in any direction.

One blows up behind him, and Garnet’s protection spell vibrates from the blast as he feels the cold street brace against his face. Hands grip his arm and help him stand up.

“Can you walk?” he hears Xehanort ask.

Terra rips his shoulder away. “Garnet!” he calls out.

Xehanort shushes him in a snake-like snarl. “We have the advantage. And I’m interested in keeping you alive.”

“Not without her.”

Xehanort holds a cold stare, his golden eyes a faint gleam in the shadow. Definitely not the kind of person to roll his eyes.

Garnet’s pillar of light bursts through with such a power that everything trembles. It also dissipates the darkness, giving them the ability to see what has been happening. A mass of Heartless that have surrounded her are thrown back by her power. Of course, she is left exhausted and shaking from such use of magic.

And Kefka notices. It laughs, sending horrific pain throughout Terra’s head, so awful it feels like his eyeballs will burst. Xehanort yells along with Terra, clutching his hand to his chest. Garnet grips her head tightly, slumped on the ground.

Kefka moves to srtike. She is wide-eyed.

This can’t happen. Not another failure.

Terra sprints forward. He needs to get there first. To have more power. To cheat.

A portal of swirling shadows opens up on the ground in front of him. He drops inside.

Here, there is no earth. No solid obstacle to keep him from her. Here he can fly. And up he ascends from another opening, putting him right in between a princess and a clown.

No need for a second Keyblade. Out from his left hand, all the dark impulses materialize into a deep red claw extending from his elbow, hitting Kefka upward at the chin.

This sends it back - but still, not enough. So he throws another claw, oozing flickering shadows through his arm and body, sending the clown flying. It lands on its back, rolling. But it misses the office building.

This was the exact move, long ago, used against his Master. With good intentions, he once swore. Powerful, instinctual, impulsive. Dark. It’s a natural glove that fits, unlike nothingness.

“I’m actually impressed,” he hears Xehanort say.

A compliment from the monster. Not again.

Terra slouches over and coughs out bile.

“Are you alright?” Garnet asks, hovering her hand at the base of his neck. Warmth radiates like waves throughout his body, as though she is healing his nervous system. The headache and the nausea lift up and away.

Kefka stands up, and screeches. It’s time to move again. Behind some bushes. Xehanort follows and covers his mouth and nose with his cloak.

The poisonous gas releases from its joints and neck, and they all wait until it dissipates into the air.

“I grow tired of this,” Xehanort says.

“Let’s trip it.” Terra summons the nameless Keyblade again into his left hand. “Or are you incapable of that?”

Xehanort glares, disappearing into his own portal, only to reappear behind the clown as it stumbles its way back toward them. He hits one ankle with a burst - which seems like it took way too much out of him.

Kefka trips onto one knee.

“Not enough!” Terra yells. He eyes Garnet, who is hesitant at first. He nods, as if to give her his blessing.

She sends healing magic to Xehanort. He takes a deep breath before striking the other ankle with his might. The clown falls to its face.

The prime opportunity. Terra allows darkness to swirl around him, and he growls as he grips both Keyblades in the hardest blow he’s ever given, directly onto the clown’s face, like vehicles crashing.

It screams, like metal grinding.

Two gashes now stain its once indestructible face, showing the black skin underneath.

It attempts to grab Terra in a fury, and Garnet steps in front to summon another pillar of light so that it fails, falling to her knees when she’s finished.

Kefka grabs its own face, as if in pain. As if it was human again.

But Garnet screams.

Two more Darksides approach them, bringing forth more Heartless.

“No…” Terra groans. He doesn’t have to tell her to run away, for she’s already doing so, although she is tumbling. She heads toward the alleyway by the hospital, where he placed the elixir minutes before.

Kefka comes to and makes its way to Terra, who pants harder just to keep himself standing straight. Xehanort growls loudly and twirls his Keyblade, a sphere of time energy rupturing throughout.

It’s quiet and frozen again. Except for Xehanort, who adjusts himself with such a frustration that it’s like watching a spiteful mother clean up a child.

“That impudent, minuscule, subordinate, worthless neophyte of a clown,” he says, throwing around fancy insults at the Heartless that is clearly striking a nerve with him tonight.

The first thing Terra looks for is the princess. In the alleyway, on the ground, looking up at a swarm of Heartless about to pounce. Her shortstaff is to her chest, her eyes exhausted and teary.

He attacks the Heartless, although the Stop magic doesn’t doesn’t give way to their destruction. Not yet, anyway. They barely move from his force. But he hits enough to be sure they’d be gone when time moves forward again.

He checks the clock tower. Less than two minutes left until Kefka is gone for the night.

Terra takes a deep breath, his muscles sore and shaking from weariness. They are almost there.

Footsteps behind him. Xehanort eyes the clock tower as well, looking just as grateful.

“At last,” he says. He forms a grip into the air. Terra is thrown up against the wall telepathically, his wrists cemented to the brick behind him, both Keyblades gone in a crackle.

“I’ve been advised to practice patience, but no longer,” Xehanort says through his teeth, standing in front of Terra with his Keyblade in hand. “You’re too much trouble.”

Terra tries to wrestle with the invisible force, but he can’t. He can’t move anything. He cries out, because this can’t be the end. Xehanort holds his Keyblade in the air, aiming for the chest.

Garnet jumps from behind him and rams her shortstaff right into the back of Xehanort’s knee. He staggers and backhands her, where she collapses. She crawls back against the wall opposite, holding her hand up in fear in a futile attempt to protect herself.

“You insignificant brat,” Xehanort says as he raises his Keyblade against her.

But her hit releases Terra, and he tackles. One arm around the bastard’s chest, another twisting the armed wrist until the Keyblade is let go. Xehanort is a touch shorter than Terra, but he’s much thinner. He has no strength when magic is not involved.

Terra throws him, slamming him onto the ground which makes him bounce and roll away.

With Garnet following, Terra grabs the duffel bag of elixirs on the way and slings them over his shoulder. Kefka begins moving again. They runs across the street until they get situated close enough to the office building.

“Stand your ground,” he tells Garnet.

“What are you going to do?” She holds her place directly by his side.

Kefka follows them with its gaze, and walks forward. The gashes make it uglier, its neck ruffle and shoulder pads burnt.

“Just trust me,” Terra says. He summons both Keyblades and waits.

“Terra?” she says, her voice shaking with nervousness. Xehanort comes to and is running out toward them.

“Stand your ground.”

The clown comes close enough.

Terra thrusts the teeth of both Keyblades into the ground. The earth pops and spews, breaking the mended stones in a trail until it reaches the office building - specifically the corner wall where she planted the bomb on the first floor.

It explodes as Kefka steps right past it. The building starts to crumble, triggering the second bomb to go off by the clown’s face. It screams like before, deafening the quake as the earth opens up the cobblestones underneath him and the princess.

They fall as the ground gives up. Garnet lets out a high-pitched scream, but she’s barely audible in comparison to the ruckus.

Xehanort slides to the edge of the open pit. He wears the face of someone who desperately missed his target, watching them splash into a rush of water below.

This chapter references Pixar’s Coco (2017).

A/N: I have defined the Spanish words and phrases used with context clues, but I wanted to make a note that some of it is Cuban slang (I can’t help it). There were definitely times where I had to be careful of what I was writing. For example, for “calavera” I nearly used “calabaza.” In Spanish, that means “pumpkin,” but Cubans use the names of food to describe lots of things. We use “calabaza” to mean sugar skull, and that’s why many people look at us like we’re crazy. For example, in the movie, Frida Kahlo prepares a papaya that she makes her clone dancers crawl out of. For us, a papaya is the word we use for the woman’s nether-regions. You can imagine what kind of context we understood those scenes to mean, LMAO.

#terraqua #kingdom hearts fanfiction #terqua #kh fanfic #terra #aqua #young xehanort #garnet til alexandros #kefka palazzo #hector #miguel #coco #i know this is coming out far later than planned #i am still trying to catch up to this hell week my god #my fic

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cleverbroadwayurl · 6 years

Text

Surround You (Jeremy Heere x Reader Pt 7)

Song: Surround You by Echosmith

Need to Catch Up? PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6

Want More? PART 8 PART 9 PART 10 PART 11 PART 12 PART 13 PART 14 PART 15 PART 16 PART 17 PART 18 PART 19

A/N: Yay yay yay!! This night is finally over!!! Ahhh it took me so long, but I’m glad to finally have it finished! Part 8 is currently in the works, I had an idea for it recently so wowser, draft one is almost done! I also just want to like,,, thank everyone for the hype and feedback again??? Oh my goodness??? It makes me so happy to see people enjoying it??? Like some have said that these are their favorite parts and honestly??? The entire fic was built around this??? And seriously??? This idea has been in my head for over a year because I had to have an escape route and it just happened to be one of my guy friends that I trusted hella so,,, Anyways, I hope you enjoy this part, the next one will be up soon!

Taglist: @retrogarden @scarsonthecuffsofyourjeans @be-more-heidi-hansen @bluhimaweirdo

Trigger Warnings: mentions of an abusive boyfriend, cuts, mentions of abuse,

“Got it, Jeremy. Let me know when you’re ready to go. I won’t say a word, no matter what. I’ll keep the bathroom light on so I don’t accidentally fall asleep.”

“Thank you, dad.” Jeremy said, a smile finally emerging from the corners of his mouth.

“Anytime, Jeremy.”

Mr. Heere let Jeremy through and heard him rush down the stairs.

As awkward and terrible as that conversation with his dad was, Jeremy was glad that he finally had a plan. He also realized that he could make as much noise as he wanted or needed to. It was almost as if all high stakes were gone for a minute. Everything was now just a little bit easier for both him and you, which was his original goal in the first place. He got down to the middle level of his house and stood at the top of the basement stairs.

He got memories of when he was a little kid and afraid of the basement. Now that he was somewhat an adult, he was ironically still scared of the basement. Not because he was worried there was a monster or something, but because he was nervous about helping you. As much as he could follow the rules and advice from both Rich and his dad, Jeremy could still fail. You could make it home, but still be in danger. He didn’t want you to be stuck somewhere; he didn’t want this moment of calm between you two to end. Taking a breath and wiping his eyes of any excess tears, Jeremy quietly made his way down the stairs.

When he got to the bottom, he witnessed you on your phone once again. It’s not like he could blame you, though. While it looked like you were texting, he could never be too sure. You could be looking up resources to help you get out of this situation. You could even be on the phone with the police or getting your hands on a possible lawyer to get a restraining order. He just hoped that you weren’t texting your boyfriend.

But you couldn’t be texting that asshole. There was no panic to you, at least not anymore. You were calmly typing away. No tears, no visible pain, but just…you. He almost wanted to walk back up the stairs and leave you be for the night. Your face was only slightly lit from the blue light from your phone; making only your brightest features shine. Jeremy swore in that moment that he’d never seen a more delicate sight. He swallowed hard, making sure not to startle you.

“Hey,” he gave a smile, “I have the first aid kit.”

You looked at him, a little bit of light shining in your eyes. However, this time, it wasn’t from the dull glow from your phone. It was genuine, he could tell. You mirrored his smile before your eyes scanned him up and down. Jeremy wanted to drink in this moment, this basic conversation that seemed so quiet, so secluded from the rest of the world. He took a step forward and opened the kit. You didn’t watch him carefully, instead you made room beside you so he could sit down. Your demeanor had changed, it was almost like it was just you two being friends and had played video games much longer than your curfew. The silence crept in and stayed, almost a comfort to each person in the basement. The actions were similar to a typical Friday night, as if the events from before hadn’t happened at all.

As he sat down, you turned your back to Jeremy so that he could examine the cut. Based off of tonight, this was not typical behavior. Normally, you’d watch him, watch his hands, muscles tense and fear radiating off of your body. But this was different. You were as comfortable as he was, which was shocking for both of you. And Jeremy knew in this moment, something special was going on.

Looking at the cut again, he noticed that it was low enough for him to reach without violating your privacy. But of course, Jeremy needed to ask because it would be more than rude or creepy to just go for it. Plus, he didn’t want to violate any more rules that night. “Can I lift this up a little to look at the mark?”

“Sure, Jeremy. I trust you.”

He nodded, even though you couldn’t see him. The lanky boy set the kit on the floor next to him and held a cleaning wipe in his right hand. His hand shook as he lifted up the back of your shirt, careful not to touch you any more than he needed to.

The moment he lifted the fabric, even the little bit he had to, he saw red marks covering your back. They were marks he’d never seen before, each of them small round circles or almost fat crescents. His eyes scanned for the one that was bleeding and found it almost immediately. It was deeper than the others and still oozing the slightest amount of blood. It wasn’t on your spine, thank goodness, but rather too close for comfort. His fingers grazed over the bleeding cut. “This is going to sting,” he said, hoping that those words weren’t entirely true. Jeremy didn’t want to hurt you any more, but this was the only way to clean the cut enough so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

“I’m just going to swab down your cuts. Nothing more. Maybe some gauze in a few minutes.”

“Got it.”

Jeremy moved gently once again. He placed the cold wipe onto your skin, just barely grazing the cut before you practically yelped and flinched away from him. He jumped back as well, fear coursing through his veins. You relaxed as quickly as you jumped up. The teenager could hear the smile in your voice as you spoke: “I didn’t think it’d be so cold or sting that much. Sorry for jumping like that.” The smile faded by the time you got to your apology.

Your apologizing almost seemed like a reflex. After all the times you’d said you were sorry tonight, he could only imagine how often you said it around your boyfriend. He wondered how often those apologies meant nothing to your boyfriend and somehow everything to you. There was some darkness lingering in the back of his mind; saying that your boyfriend dismissed your apologies as he would with a fly in the room or a face passing by in a crowd. The grimace that Jeremy had seen many times before appeared in his mind. How many times had you apologized tot hat face? How many times had you meant every “sorry” you uttered, but he meant absolutely none of them? How many times were you ignored, hell even your basic needs ignored because he stood in the way of them?

The lanky boy realized how long it had been since he’d said something and decided to say something so your apology to a completely natural reaction was accounted for. “It’s totally okay.”

He tried cleaning the cut again, this time placing his hand near the mark so the cold wipe wouldn’t catch you by surprise again. His hand with the wipe moved gently across your skin, careful not to disturb the gash any more than he needed to. Jeremy stopped cleaning after about five minutes. Without all the dried blood around it, the mark actually looked at lot better. But just to be safe, he decided to cover it with gauze to get a more sealed finish. If your parents found out about this, he was sure he’d never get to see you again. He shuddered at that thought. As soon as he was done, he opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to the punch.

“Those are from kicks,” You spoke a little softer than before. “I didn’t think they’d get this bad.” He could hear a chuckle in your voice, but wasn’t sure why you were laughing. Maybe it was aa way of coping with the truth. And in that moment, all of those questions from before were answered: Too many times had your apologies and basic needs meant nothing to him.

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so Jeremy just stayed quiet for a second. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, still concentrating on opening the cleaning cloth. He waited a second, trying not to get extremely angry at the words you’d just uttered and the answer to his questions he didn’t have the heart to ask you. He’d just processed the words, but knew that getting angry now was not the ideal. Not like he did before, at least. He decided that maybe instead of bringing up your boyfriend again, he’d give you a warning. He spoke a second later, keeping his cool as much as he could. “All right, I’m done.”

“Thank you again, Jeremy. For everything tonight. I should probably get going, though,” you said, turning to put your newly bandaged back onto Jeremy’s couch, your profile just as beautiful to the awkward boy as looking at your entire face. In that moment, Jeremy swore you didn’t have a bad angle.

“About that,” Jeremy started, his eyes immediately beelining for the ground. “Is it okay if my dad drives your car and I drive you home? That way, you don’t have to face your parents and stay away from driving. Plus, if you need to hide in a hurry, you can do that. Or like if your boyfriend notices your car, it’ll be my dad driving and not you.”

You smiled, your eyes shining brighter than the fullest of moons. “That’s a great idea. Where’d you come up with that?”

Jeremy sat for a second, thinking over how exactly he came up with that plan. He wasn’t sure, so he decided to jokingly make something up. “You know, I’ve been trying to get past this Bioshock level, maybe I was in a puzzle solving mindset. Michael has been trying to get me to beat it for weeks, but I haven’t been able to.”

Your eyes clouded over with confusion for a second. “Michael—isn’t he the boy that wears the red hoodie that has like Pacific Northwest vibes? And he loves music? Wears sick headphones that are sometimes white?”

“That’s him! He’s my best friend,” Jeremy paused. “Yeah, he’s been with me through everything.”

“Oh right. Something happened at the play Junior year. I don’t know a lot about it, but I’m happy Michael was there for you.”

“Yeah.” He gave an awkward smile, his shoulders almost reaching the corners of his mouth. There was a silence between you two for a second, before you looked at Jeremy sharply, a smile painting your features.

“Where did Michael get his Pacific Northwest vibe?” You asked, not breaking eye contact with Jeremy.

“Well, this one time we played Life is Strange and that’s when he started saying ‘hella’ and basically became Chloe Price, but maybe less punk rock and family issue driven.”

Your smile somehow got wider at his answer. “I love it and honestly support it.”

Jeremy noticed that you looked at your phone right after that, the time reading 2:45 in the morning. He had to get you home soon, that was for sure. As much as he loved these moments with you; moments of seemingly infinite bliss and beauty, they had to end. For some reason, during this time with you, it felt like the world couldn’t lay a finger on either of you. It felt like everything was as it should be, it felt simple. It felt like that domestic life that Jeremy for some reason craved with you. It felt right.

“Shit is it really almost 3? I promised an hour, Jeremy. I’m sorry, it’s been almost 2.” You said, cheeks completely flushing of color.

“Hey, you made my night more interesting, and even gave me a valid excuse as to why I didn’t finish that Bioshock level.”

“But—”

“Really, it’s fine. It was an emergency, you needed help. Your time here is completely fine and valid. We’re friends, it’s what friends do for one another. You could stay here for a year, and I would be happy just have your company around here,” Jeremy blushed at the end. “But you probably should get going, I do want you to sleep even just a little bit in your own bed. You deserve it.”

“Thank you, Jeremy.”

The teen walked upstairs and got his dad. Mr. Heere kept his promise and had managed to stay awake to drive your car to your house. You were escorted to Jeremy’s car while his dad took your keys. Your hood was up once again, to hide anything you could from Jeremy’s dad. Going out to the car was surprisingly easy, they just needed to keep their eyes aware of any figures in the dark. Jeremy even opened the door for you, and stepped around to the other side of the car. He didn’t miss his dad’s knowing smile before climbing in, though.

The drive was surprisingly short and almost peaceful. Almost peaceful because Jeremy kept his eye out for your boyfriend or his car, making sure to signal if you should duck your head down under the glove compartment just in case. But it was nice, no traffic, no one was around. It kept the illusion of being untouchable by anyone else, the illusion of privacy alive. The streetlight glowed lovingly every so often, illuminating the wonderful person that sat in the passenger seat of Jeremy’s car. He could tell that you were falling asleep, your head falling on the window every so often. Yeah, good thing you didn’t drive. Jeremy sighed and looked at the road ahead of him once again.

Jeremy couldn’t get the sadness out of his head, the small cloud of darkness from before looming darker and closer. He got to go home and sleep peacefully. Where he was safe. You on the other hand, had to go to bed and face the cold reality of the night. While the he wanted to help, he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. It was just like the SQUIP incident and him. You needed to face this head on and probably alone. If not alone, then with mental health professionals who could do a hell of a lot more than he could. They’d helped him with his situation, he only imagined they could do the same for you.

When you got to your house, he noticed tears streaming down your face again. He wordlessly walked you to your door and hugged you before letting you walk into your home, safe for the night.

He drove with his dad home, the car being silent the entire way. And while before, the silence would be absolutely driving the two of them insane, this was more of a relaxed or sleepy silence. The car ride seemed to go faster, Mr. Heere finally driving the speed limit instead of 5 under like he had with your car.

It wasn’t until Jeremy’s dad stopped in their driveway before he said something. “I know that I have no idea about this friend, but something tells me that you really care about them and genuinely help them. Did you end up using the gauze?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, his eyes still looking at his lap. He turned up, neck craning only slightly, to face his dad. “Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome. Now, let’s go inside and get some good sleep, yeah? It’s already 3:23.”

The two climbed out of the car and locked it before entering the dark house and each going into their own rooms.

As soon as Jeremy shut his door, tears of relief flooded out of his eyes. He had no idea how he had managed to pull off keeping you safe, but he did it. Fuck, he did it. He got into his sweats, tears still escaping at a constant rate. Jeremy sat on his bed, the only light in his room being the moon, and put his head in his hands.

God you didn’t deserve this. Any of it. And in that moment, Jeremy made a promise to himself. He was going to help you in whatever way he could, and never ever let your boyfriend get away with this.

#jeremy heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine #bmc x reader #bmc imagine #be more chill imagine #be more chill x reader

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ghostbustermelanieking · 7 years

Text

the fountain chapter ten

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine

s6 fic: post milagro, tithonus and detour casefile, immortal scully, part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files

chapter ten

may, 1999

Scully woke slowly, as if surfacing from underwater. The smell of saline, the feeling of an IV, the beeping of the heart monitor. The itching of bandages along her torso. Her hands flat on the mattress, cold. And then she remembered and panicked, her fingers digging into the mattress as she struggled to sit up, as her mouth fell open to demand to know where he was.

There was a gap in her memory after that. Cool, white space in her mind, like hospital sheets. Her throat was raw from shouting. She asked one of the nurses what happened when she was brought ice chips, and the nurse told her that she'd been frantic when she woke up, asking for her partner. Her partner who wasn't there. Scully swallowed back nausea, nodded with her jaw clenched to hide the fact that she was about two inches away from crying. When the nurse left, she wiped her eyes with the edge of the sheets and buried her face in the side side of the pillow.

Her brother appeared at her bedside later, his face familiarly pale and worried. “Bill,” Scully rasped guiltily, tears stinging her eyes. It had been less than a week since her mother's car accident, and now her son had to come down to Florida because her daughter was in the hospital again. It was becoming a practically normal occurrence. “You didn't have to come,” she whispered as Bill took her hand.

“Of course I did, Danes,” Bill said, with his own hint of guilt in his voice. He squeezed her hand before letting go and sitting down beside her bed. “Mom sends her love. It took a lot to get her to stay home; she's really worried about you.”

Scully wiped tears from her eyes. “She's doing okay?” she whispered.

“She's doing fine.” Bill folded his hands, in a formal way that reminded Scully of her father delivering bad news and said in a grave tone, “I'm so sorry about your partner, Dana.”

It hit her like a truck, the fact that Mulder hadn’t made it. It never stopped being shocking, no matter how many times she told herself it was true. Scully let herself lie back limply on the mattress, blinking back more tears. “Thank you, Bill,” she said thickly.

Bill squeezed her hand again before letting it go. “I'm so glad you're okay, Danes,” he said softly. “This happens to you way too much.”

Scully slipped her hand under the sheet, touching the bandages along her side. “I know,” she said to the ceiling.

Mulder was always by her bedside when she woke up in the hospital. She'd known something was wrong as soon as she'd woken up and he wasn't there. She pushed hair behind her ears, tried to breathe deeply. Usually, these things didn't happen to both of them at once. Usually, both of them came out okay.

---

She didn't ask anyone what they knew about Mulder until Skinner came to visit. She wanted a straight answer, no one dancing around things to spare her feelings. She was terrified about what she'd learn—that Mulder was dead, that his body was lying in the morgue on a cold slab with a gaping wound in his throat—but she had to know. She had to know.

Skinner came in the afternoon the day after she woke up, when Scully was poking at a plastic cup of green Jello with no interest. “Agent Scully,” he said when he appeared in the doorway to her room. “How are you feeling?”

She pushed the cup aside, sitting up in bed. “What did you find, out in those woods?” she croaked sternly.

Skinner squirmed uncomfortably. “We found the crime scene and searched the surrounding area,” he said. “We don't have the resources to search the whole forest, I'm afraid…”

“What did you find about Mulder?” she snapped.

Skinner rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We haven't found Mulder's body,” he said, and Scully's body sagged with an incredible amount of relief. “We found both yours and Mulder's blood type at the scene, excess amounts that would suggest that Mulder is as severely injured as you are, if not…” Skinner gave her a sympathetic look. “Scully, I just want to prepare you for what we might find.”

“I know what you might find,” she snapped. They'd taken her witness statement the day before; she'd told them everything that they'd seen, her voice not trembling a bit, her hands clutching the blanket hard. “I was there.”

Skinner was giving her a fatherly look, his own sorrow written across his face. “I know,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

She looked down at her lap uncomfortably. She just wanted to see Mulder. She'd had nightmares the night before, blood and flashing metal and Mulder's dark, pleading eyes. She'd gone over it again and again since she woke up, and she couldn't figure out why the two of them had been targeted. But she did know this: if she hadn't kicked him out of her motel room, if she'd gone with him to the forest or made him stay with her, one of them probably would've seen the kidnappers, been able to save each other. They were a team, and she had betrayed that because she was angry at him for looking for the fucking Fountain of Youth.

And then a spark in her mind: he'd been looking for the Fountain of Youth. What if he had found it? What if he'd been able to survive the wounds? Or what if blood loss had made her hallucinate and she'd seen things wrong, what if they'd given Mulder a less fatal wound then a slit throat? Whatever the reason, one thing seemed clear: she couldn't just accept the fact that he was dead. And if there was even the slightest possibility that he was alive…

They hadn't found a body. And besides that, she would know if he was dead, wouldn't she? She would know. And it didn't feel real, none of it, and oh god, she had to find him. Dead or alive, she had to find him.

“Mulder has looked for me every time I've disappeared,” she said to her knees. “And he found me every single time. And if he didn't find me, he didn't give up. He kept looking.”

“Yes,” said Skinner uncertainly. “Yes, he has. He did."

He'd always been there for her, always. She wasn't going to give up on him. She couldn't. “Then I'm going to find him,” she said, looking up at Skinner, dead serious. “He's my partner, and I'm not giving up on him. And if I can't find…” She swallowed back the lump in her throat. “If I can't find him, then I can find the people who attacked us. And I can bring them to justice.”

Skinner had a knowing look on his face now. “I didn't expect you to do anything differently,” he said.

---

october, 1999

They went straight to Scully's motel room. Scully wanted to take Mulder to a hospital, but he refused. They were both exhausted, and he hadn't slept peacefully in months. They agreed to go see Kravert and Skinner at the Bureau as soon as they both woke up. Mulder offered to get his own room, but Scully immediately shook her head. “I'm not leaving you alone,” she said. “It's fine. We can just share the bed.”

He didn't mind that proposition at all, but it had been awkward between them since they left the woods. Since he'd said he thought she wouldn't look for him. He needed to apologize for that. There were so, so many things he needed to apologize for, and he couldn't believe she was really there. Her presence was still so incredible to him.

He nodded his agreement silently. She offered him a small smile before turning and leading him into her room.

It was a different motel from the last time they'd been in Tallahassee, which he was more than relieved about. He'd spent way too much time reliving their last phone call, picturing Scully being attacked, reliving the fight they had just before he left. This motel room had one bed with a really ugly bedspread. The bed was still made, there was still a plastic container with little pools of salad dressing in the bottom on the desk. “Make yourself at home,” Scully said, setting her gun down on the bedside table. “I imagine you'll want a shower, I, uh… I have one of your t-shirts but none of your other clothes…” She unzipped her suitcase and pulled out a folded-up t-shirt. The Quantico t-shirt she'd worn the night after Padgett.

He swallowed and took the shirt from her. It probably smelled like her after all these months of her having it. “Thanks, Scully,” he said gratefully.

“Of course.” She looked down at the ground awkwardly.

He set the shirt down on the bed and stepped closer to Scully, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Scully, I'm sorry,” he said.

Her shoulders hunched up, her arms clenched at her side. “For what, Mulder?” she mumbled. “You didn't do anything wrong.”

“I'm sorry for underestimating you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes full of emotion that he didn't often see. Scully was so good at putting up walls, but she so rarely let them down. “Mulder, you don't have to…” she started.

“I thought you'd think I was dead,” he said, and she flinched. He brushed the side of her face in an attempt to comfort her. “I should be dead,” he said softly. “I didn't think you'd believe…”

“I was in denial,” Scully said softly. “I told myself again and again that maybe I saw it wrong. But I was terrified you were dead. I was terrified that I had seen it right, and your throat had been slit.” She gestured to his neck again, the lack of a scar.

He wasn't going to argue whether or not his throat really had been cut, not now. He took her hand, intertwining their fingers. “I didn't think you'd believe it,” he whispered. “I shouldn't have underestimated you. I'm so sorry. I can't believe you looked for me all this time. I'm so grateful that you…”

Scully's eyes shifted back to the ground. “It's what you would've done for me,” she said. “And I couldn't… I didn’t want to accept that you were gone.”

Overwhelmed, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing his nose into her hair. She hugged him back tightly, her face buried in his chest. “I tried to keep the X-Files going,” she mumbled. “I'm no good at it, Mulder. They made a big mistake assigning me to you.”

He huffed out a laugh into her hair. “It was a mistake, but they screwed themselves, Scully, not me,” he said. “Your assignment was the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

She laughed wetly into his shirt and he kissed the top of her head. “And I need to apologize,” he said.

“Mulder, I told you, you don't have to do that.”

“No, I do.” He pulled back to look her in the eye. “When you said you didn't want to be alone… I wanted to make sure that didn't happened. I thought if I found the… the fucking Fountain of Youth…” He chuckled self-deprecatingly. “... I thought you could have the option if there was someone you wanted to… if I was… I don't know. But I should have talked to you first. I meant to talk to you first. But then we fought, and I went to find it because I didn't know what else to do, and I shouldn't have… It all just happened so fast.”

Scully reached up to cup his face. She was looking up at him, smiling shakily. “Mulder, it's okay,” she said. “It's okay.”

He kissed her this time, something he'd been wanting to do since last summer. For years, if he was being honest. Her lips were cold, but she surged against him, wrapping herself around him, her fingers slipping on the front of his shirt. He'd missed her. He'd missed her so, so much, but they were both there. They were both there.

---

They slept tangled up in the sheets and each other. It was the best that Mulder had slept in months, Scully curled into his side with a shirt she'd thrown on before they went to sleep hanging to her knees, his arms slung down over her ribs and his chin nudging the top of her head. No worry of death or dying, at least not yet. Scully had her gun on her bedside table, and Mulder had Samuel’s gun from that last struggle in the woods on his bedside table. He felt relaxed for the first time in months.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Scully muttered something that might’ve been his name, curling hard into him with her arm wrapped around his bare chest. He smiled, gathering her up and closing his eyes. We'll be okay, Scully had said in the car, but this was the first time he really believed it.

---

When he woke up, it was mid-morning, light streaming in through the windows. The shower was running in the other room—the source of Scully's absence, he assumed. He got out of bed, rubbing his mouth as he padded across the room, and pulled on the Quantico shirt and the dirty pants from the day before.

It was strange, not sitting by the door and listening for the footsteps of the Barclays, not pacing anxiously around the too-small room and wishing he was anywhere else, trying to plot an escape. At least the motel room were slightly bigger than his old bedroom. For a brief moment, he was eager to get back to Alexandria, back to his apartment, and then he realized that he probably didn't have an apartment anymore, after six months. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed, wondered if anyone had taken the fish.

His hair was overlong from months of not getting a haircut. He was skinnier, his ribs more visible underneath his clothes. His reflection in the mirror looked haggard, unhealthy. He swallowed, pulling at the t-shirt. (It did smell like Scully.) He didn't look anything like an FBI agent. He looked like a victim.

The shower turned off in the bathroom, and Mulder turned away from the mirror, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hey, Scully?” he called out carefully, trying not to startle her.

“Yeah?”

“I'm going to run to the lobby and get some food,” he said. “You want anything?”

“Bring me a bagel?” she asked.

“Sure.” He stood and walked to the door. “Be right back,” he called, shutting it behind him.

He gathered food from the continental breakfast in the lobby and headed back to the room. Scully was sitting on the edge of her bed, already dressed, hair in wet waves around her cheek. He thought about kissing her. “Hey,” he said instead, handing her the bagel.

She smiled at him brightly, taking the bagel. “Hi.”

He kissed her on the forehead as he sat down beside her, a strangely intimate gesture that he couldn't explain why he did but that he also couldn't keep from doing. “So what's the plan?” he asked.

“I'm calling Kravert and asking him to meet us here,” she said. “I don't want to drive that man's car more than we have to.”

“Samuel,” Mulder supplied, a bit bitterly.

“Samuel,” Scully repeated, a smidge of fury in her voice. “He's really going to heal? And the other one I shot?”

“Andrew,” said Mulder. “Yes, they will. I've never seen them do it, but they used the same thing I did for years and years. Chewed the leaves from the tree.”

“It felt strange to just leave him there,” Scully admitted, fiddling with her cross necklace. “But we need to go back and arrest them. And Virginia… Jesus, there's no way Kravert will believe me about Virginia. Maybe Skinner… You saw her, right? She stayed at the house with you? Do you know where she went?”

“All I know is that she went for Ritter,” Mulder said. His eyes drifted to the window; he saw something flicker at the window. “Scully, do you see something?” he whispered.

“What?” She turned, startled, towards his line of sight.

A shadow flickered across the floor. A very human-looking shadow.

“Scully, get the gun,” Mulder whispered.

Something busted through the window, shattering it on impact. Mulder scrambled to his feet, rushing to the window, and met Samuel Barclay head-on. He hit him directly in the place where the bullet had hit the night before; the other man yowled, tumbling back out of the window. But someone else was right behind him. Peter Barclay toppled through the window and stumbled to his feet, balled a fist in Mulder's t-shirt and shoved him backwards into the wall to the left. “Scully!” Mulder shouted, a warning, as he pushed at Peter’s shoulder in an attempt to get him away. Peter slammed him against the wall, and Mulder saw stars for a moment.

From over Peter’s shoulder, he saw Andrew tumble in through the window, gun aimed. “FBI, drop your weapon!” Scully shouted.

Peter lifted the gun in his own hand to Mulder's head, and Mulder scratched him hard in an attempt to get him to drop it. “Drop your weapon, agent!” Andrew was shouting. “We have you outnumbered!”

Mulder dug his fingernails into Peter’s hand, hard enough to draw blood, but it did nothing. The muzzle of the gun kept moving, brushed the side of his head, and his vision went briefly red. He jerked his head forward, banging foreheads with Peter so hard that his skull seemed to throb with pain, in protest for the abuse it had suffered over the last few minutes. They groaned simultaneously, and Mulder used the opportunity to shove Peter forward. He crashed into Andrew, knocking them both to the ground. The gun in Andrew’s hand fired. Far away, Mulder heard someone scream.

He dropped to his knees, ignoring the glass digging in, ignoring the throbbing of his head, and grabbed Andrew’s gun while the man was dazed. “Scully, you okay?” he shouted, aiming the gun at the two men.

“Fine,” Scully called, and he exhaled in relief. “Keep the gun on them.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Scully cross the room, kicking Peter's gun across the room. A rustling sound at the window, and then Scully's stern voice: “FBI, hands in the air! Get in the window slowly.”

Andrew was not dazed anymore; he tried to strike out at Mulder, and Mulder stumbled backwards to his feet, keeping the gun aimed. “Move and I'll shoot you,” he said. “And even though you'll heal… I know it has to hurt like hell.”

Scully pinned Samuel to the wall, gun to his head. “Mulder, we have to get them out of here somehow,” she said pointedly. “I left my handcuffs in my car.”

Mulder clutched the gun harder, his mind racing. They had to restrain them somehow, but they were outnumbered in a way that would make it hard to leave either of them to find something. He was already worried about holding both Peter and Andrew at gunpoint. His eyes darted nervously towards Scully, nervously back to the men as he saw Peter start to stir, start to turn towards him. And then the door fell in with a hard kick.

Mulder jolted, gun wobbling in his hands. He couldn't look; he kept his focus on the Barclays. He briefly prayed it wasn't Virginia.

“Agent Mulder?” said a surprised voice, one that was familiar but Mulder had absolutely no idea why he thought so.

“Agent Kravert,” Scully said wearily from behind him. “A little help here, please? These are the men who tried to murder us.”

---

The Barclays were arrested, at the very least on charges of property damages. At the most, on Mulder and Scully's matching identifications as the men who stabbed Scully, and Mulder's testified six-month captivity. Kravert wanted to charge them with the other murders and the attack on Ritter as well, but Mulder insisted that they weren't the killers, and Scully actually backed him. “You could call them accomplices, but they didn't have a hand in any of the deaths that took place before our attack,” Mulder told Kravert and Skinner. “I met the murderer, I talked to her. It's Virginia Barclay. Somehow, she's still alive.”

Kravert looked like Mulder had suggested that Bigfoot was the killer. Skinner sighed, lifting his glasses and rubbing at his eyes, said, “Are you absolutely sure, Agent?”

He was surprised; he'd expected more resistance from Skinner, but maybe the man didn't want to downplay their reunion by immediately disagreeing with him. He said, “Positive, sir. I talked to her. She was the woman from the crime scene photos. She faked her death somehow and walked out of the morgue. That's why her body was the only one that disappeared.”

“An autopsy would've confirmed that she was still alive, so it makes sense that she would want to avoid one,” Scully put in.

“That is… highly improbable, Scully,” said Kravert, clearly dumbfounded.

“It's the truth,” Mulder said simply. He was more than done with playing around.

Skinner was still rubbing at his forehead like he had a headache. (Mulder knew the feeling.) “Do you have any idea where she might’ve gone?” he asked.

“No,” said Mulder, shaking his head. “All I know is that she went after Ritter because his connection to Fellig and Scully. I don't know where she went afterwards.”

Skinner turned to Kravert. “Put out an APB on Virginia Barclay,” he said. “Use the photos from the case files, since that's what Mulder recognized her from.”

Kravert looked between the three of them, and only encountering complete seriousness, he sighed. “Yes, sir,” he said, turning and jogging away.

Skinner turned back towards where Mulder and Scully were standing side by side. “Agent Scully,” he said sternly. “Going after Agent Mulder without backup was incredibly irresponsible.”

“Yes, sir,” Scully said bluntly. Her jaw was set, a neutral look on her face. No regrets. God, he loved her.

Skinner sighed again, adjusted his glasses before reaching out to touch Mulder's shoulder. “Mulder, I am incredibly relieved that you are okay,” he told him sincerely.

“Thank you, sir,” said Mulder. He'd surprisingly missed Skinner in those six months, even more than he had during the months under Kersh. After everything, he had a certain amount of appreciation for the man, who'd more than proved where his loyalties laid.

Skinner squeezed his shoulder before letting go. “The motel has provided you with new rooms,” he intoned. “Get some rest, agents. We've got it from here.”

They nodded, turned away as Skinner walked off. Mulder leaned close to Scully as he whispered, “Notice he didn't mention anything about Virginia Barclay coming back for us.”

“I think a begrudging APB is about the best we're going to get out of this situation, Mulder,” Scully said. “Seeing as how Virginia Barclay was declared dead eight months ago.”

“Scully, I'll remind you that the X-Files have had much more dead culprits than Virginia Barclay,” Mulder replied.

“It doesn't matter,” Scully said as they went to the front office. “We'll both be on alert in case Virginia comes back. But we've more than paid our dues on this case, and it's not our job to look for Virginia Barclay.”

Mulder swallowed as they pushed the door open. “Unless she decides to come back for you,” he said quietly.

Scully looked up at him, her eyes full of wordless affirmations. “She won't,” she said firmly. “And even if she does, I won't be alone.”

Mulder nodded, brushed his fingers along the inside of her arm. “No, you won't,” he said.

They asked the front desk for one room.

---

They ended up spending the day watching TV on the bed. They ordered in room service, and Mulder ate ravenously. They sat with their arms touching, extra pillows piled up at their back. They didn't kiss. They touched a little more than necessary, but then again, that was their usual M.O., if only six months stale. Mulder's heart still beat a little too fast with Scully this close to him, the reaction of a teenager. Neither of them brought up the night before. They both jumped violently at any sudden sounds from the other room.

Sometime after it got dark, Scully fell asleep curled against his shoulder. He smiled affectionately, brushed hair off of her face and tucked the thin motel quilt around her shoulders. He was exhausted, too, and was about to turn off the TV (because he knew it bothered Scully) and go to sleep when the phone rang.

The motel phone, on the bedside table. Mulder wondered if the front desk had been instructed to call and check on them as he fumbled to answer before the ringing phone woke Scully up. He shoved the phone beneath his ear and said, “Hello?”

“Mr. Mulder?” said a voice that made Mulder's blood freeze in his veins, that made him want to throw off the covers and run, make sure he was still safe and free to leave whenever he wanted. God, he'd thought this was over. “Mr. Mulder, it's Peter Barclay.”

“Where the hell are you calling from and what the hell did you want?” Mulder snapped viciously, sitting straight up in bed. His hands were trembling. This was supposed to be over.

Scully was starting to stir beside him, rolling over in the empty space where he'd been lying down, her nose against his knee.

“Calm down, Mr. Mulder. I'm calling from a holding cell,” Barclay said. “You're my ‘lawyer’.”

Scully rolled onto her back, blinking owlishly up at him. Mulder clutched the phone hard and said, “So what the fuck do you want?”

“I want you to stop my daughter, Mr. Mulder,” Barclay said. “I know what she wants now. I didn't know before, but I understand now. The day I've dreaded for centuries has come.”

“I don't know what you mean,” he growled. Scully rose up on one elbow and mouthed, Barclay? He nodded tensely. “But I don't want to listen to it,” he said, and reached to cut it off.

“I know that Virginia wants to die,” said Peter before he could. “And I know what she will do next. She'll either go after your partner or the other man she tried to kill, the only ones who survived her attempts.”

And they're the only ones who were there when Fellig died, Mulder thought regrettably, fingers clenching around the receiver.

“Don't listen to him,” Scully said, sitting up in bed. “It doesn't matter. We're fine.”

Peter was talking over her, two voices echoing in Mulder's ears. “If she figures out how to die, then she will die,” he said. “And I don't want this. And if she fails, then your partner will be in danger of dying, and I know you don't want that. Please, Mr. Mulder, stop this from hap—”

Scully took the phone from him and hung up. “Mulder, you don't have to listen to what he says,” she said. “We're prepared for if Virginia comes, and even if she does…” She bit her lower lip, the blue light of the television flickering off of her face. “Well, if you really think I'm immortal, then it's not a problem,” she added softly.

“I don't want to see you hurt again,” he said in a rush. “But all of that aside… Scully, Peyton Ritter isn't immortal. If she goes after him, he's got no protection, especially if he's still in the hospital.”

Scully's eyes widened slightly. “She's going to go after him,” she said. “We have to help him.”

#xf fanfic #i wrote this #xf rewatch

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azurefishnets · 3 years

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Trick or Treat Letter (2021)

Dear Creator-type,

First, thank you for taking this on! I love the ToT exchange so I'm excited to see what you'll come up with.

I am happy with art or writing or any other medium you want to try, and both tricks and treats are fair game in all prompts. All my prompts are listed in no particular order and I would love any of them. I just hope you find something that speaks to you!

Since it’s all about tricks and treats I leave the exploration of how you handle this up to you. Any prompt is fair game for either.

LIKES: fluffiness, strangers or acquaintances-to-family, friends-to-lovers, non-mundane AUs, fandom crossovers or fusions, taking a level in badass, slice of life, angst to happy end, hurt/comfort or plain comfort, missing moments, bonding and emotional support/intimacy, loyalty, banter, worldbuilding, sensory details, unusual interactions, puns and wordplay, cool symbolism, unexpected parallels, creepy, mysterious, and/or atmospheric horror stuff

ART LIKES: People doing stuff, any kinds of stuff, not just posed things. Slice of life is great!

FIC LIKES: any tense, any amount of plot or none, out-of-the-ordinary story structures, heavy dialogue, no dialogue, character explorations, characters appearing that aren’t requested as long as it doesn’t go against my DNWs.

DNWS: any kind of consent issues whatsoever, non-requested romantic relationships, angst without a happy ending or at least some kind of resolution, infidelity, 'jump scares', excessive blood and gratuitous depictions of bodily damage, things squirming under skin, anything to do with saliva or pus, underage relationships, non-canon children, disrespect of the holy & symbol, pandemic stuff.

PROMPTS

Any prompts from any of my recent previous letters are still entirely valid! If something’s not striking with these feel free to check here: Chocolate Box 2021 Yuletide Letter 2020

Also, I'm not specifically requesting any ship-tags, personally; if I have a preferred ship I will put it with the prompts for that fandom and you are free to write it or not as you wish.

GHOST TRICK: PHANTOM DETECTIVE

Cabanela

Jowd

Alma

Sissel

Missile

Lovey-Dove

Pigeon Man

Emma

Lynne

Mino

Preferred ships, if necessary: (Alma/Jowd/Cabanela, Alma/Jowd & Cabanela, Cabanela/Jowd, Alma/Cabanela, Alma/Jowd <–seriously any version of this is acceptable as long as no infidelity implied)

I love a good mystery and Halloween is the perfect time of year to bust that out, especially with my favorite ghostly crew! Any combination of characters, any fun moment…any creeepy moment… A couple of ideas: OT3 fluffy mystery always good at any time, Alma full stop, any time pre-or post-canon, as a ghost or as a human or some amalgam of each; Lynne has to ask the irascible medical examiner and/or the animals for help with something as a newly-minted detective in new timeline; Emma is somehow inspired by Mino for her newest piece of purple prose; I also love Alma and Emma as unlikely friends! But really any or all combinations are great here, the more unexpected the more fun!

Fandom DNWs: Yomiel as "but-he's-so-hot-though" woobie

FINAL FANTASY VI

Phantom Train

Terra

Mog

Gogo

Interceptor

Valigarmanda

Phoenix

Chocobos

Celes

Rachel

I’ve probably spent more time thinking about Final Fantasy VI than almost any other game (Trails might be excluded from this though) and even after all this time, I still love the cast, the setting, the various unanswered questions, especially surrounding the War of the Magi, relics, and the Warring Triad. Any of these questions explored in context of prompts would be exciting. Always and especially excited by the existence of the Phantom Train in these tags, and combinations of any nommed character thereof. The World of Ruin, with its reopening of old wounds from 1000 years ago, is especially interesting to me. Hidden secrets from an obscured past… please lean into this stuff! A couple of specific ideas: Terra and Valigarmanda in the moment of communion that drove her crazy. What on earth happened there? Or later, after she's come to terms with herself... does that conversation go differently? I always love juxtapositions of Celes and Terra, magic ladies doing magical things. Or heck, it would be neat if Terra and Rachel had gotten to talk in that moment when Rachel was more or less half-Esper herself. Throw Mog at anyone or anything. Or chocobos. Or Interceptor! Or the Phantom Train (I hope Rachel got a huge meal of everything she likes to eat after however many years of being held in stasis or whatever). I love explorations of Gogo; they're just neat. But really, any extension of the worldbuilding by tossing characters at it is great.

FANDOM DNWS: Terra/anyone, Gogo-as-Daryl

PYRE

Jodariel

Celeste | The Gate Guardian

Volfred Sandalwood

Tariq | The Lone Minstrel

Oralech

Big Bertrude

Pamitha Theyn

Ti'Zo

Sir Gilman

Sandra

Preferred pairings, if necessary: Oralech/Tariq/Volfred, Celeste/Jodariel, Bertrude/Pamitha

Feel free to give me all the meta or headcanons you have. There’s a lot of cool creepy things you could do with alchemy or the Titan Stars or the Scribes’ original work to bring their Heralds to the Downside, however that might have happened.

Heralds. Yessss Heralds. They’re so freaking cool as the wills and words incarnate of the Scribes. You could make the argument that the whole game is how the Heralds interpret the words that make themselves up very differently. Do they ever talk about this?

Throw Sandra, Sir Gilman, or Ti'zo at anyone--they're such big personalities I just like seeing how they'll bounce off people.

Shippy-wise, it's about the pining. The mutual gaining (or regaining) of respect for each other. The painful yet delicious angst-to-fluff, gentle reader, whether it's up- or downside or some mix in between (although I do tend toward happier, together endings for my faves...) I'm especially, incidentally, eyeing Celeste/Jodi pretty hard right now and wishing for more content. Juuust sayin'.

FANDOM DNWS: Tariq/Celeste, fics from the POV of a 1st-person Reader

LEGEND OF HEROES: TRAILS IN THE SKY

Maybelle

Lila

Celeste D. Auslese

Kevin Graham

Ries Argent

Olivier Lenheim | Olivert Reise Arnor

Mueller Vander

Ragnard

Antoine

Lena Bright

Estelle Bright

Kloe Rinz

Julia Schwarz

Cassius Bright

Alicia von Auslese

Preferred pairings, if necessary: Olivier/Mueller, Ries/Kevin, Maybelle/Lila, Cassius/Lena

Found family is absolutely my favorite thing from these games and anything where the characters can show each other that is going to have my heart. So treat-wise, that’s where I have been and continue to be at. But the other thing I like about these games is the absolute whiplash from adorable fluffiness to profound existential horror and I would be more than OK with something that explored that, maybe in conjunction with the multiple suggestions we’ve had of cyclical times, the civilization predating the Great Collapse… I don’t know, anything exploring the Mistwald dreams, Phantasma (carnivorous omnivorous bookcases!), the Ahnenburg Wall (especially Air-Letten and the apparent aquifer!), or the time on the Ark would be super cool. Interweavings and references to the other two continuities are also extremely cool.

Any of that plus the ships of my heart would be great, or if you're not feeling romance, I would love to see a scene between Ragnard and Celeste, or between Celeste and practically anyone via Phantasma. Add Antoine! The more cats the better! Or: familyyyy. Alicia and Kloe, Kloe and Julia...Julia and Alicia? Cassius and Lena and Estelle...let them be cute and young and happy, before Lena got fridged. I HATE FRIDGED WIVES AS A TROPE. ...Sorry, I got a little carried away.

FANDOM DNWS: Hajimari or Kuro spoilers.

LEGEND OF HEROES: ZERO/AO NO KISEKI

Zeit

Tio Plato

Sergei Lou

Rixia Mao

Randy Orlando

Lloyd Bannings

KeA Bannings

Ilya Platiere

Alex Dudley

Elie MacDowell

Preferred pairings, if necessary: Ilya/Rixia, Cecile/Guy, other canonical ships (as of these games. No Hajimari references please)

Explorations of KeA’s powers juxtaposed with her innocence are always cool, and as far as locations go, I’m fascinated with the Temple of Moon, the Tower of Stargaze, and the Ancient Battlefield. How are they linked with themselves, and with the rest of Zemuria? Is there a connection to the East?

Lloyd dadding anyone and everyone who will let him gives me life, but I don’t ship him with anyone. I love his weird connection to Alex Dudley, SUPER NERD, and I love tired chief Sergei uncling everyone Lloyd doesn’t dad at. Individually, I have a lot of feelings about Randy, full stop, and Tio, also full stop. I would absolutely love to see Elie doing something besides being a love interest--throw her at KeA or Zeit or, heck, Sergei or Dudley. Let her be competent as heck, like she SHOULD be written. Tbh, I'd love to see Elie, Tio, and maybe Rixia doing some kind of SSS job on their own... (yes I know Noel exists. I gueeess she can come too.)

FANDOM DNWS: Harem antics with Lloyd :/, spoilers for Hajimari or Kuro

LEGEND OF HEROES: TRAILS OF COLD STEEL

Valimar

Priscilla Reise Arnor

Olivier Lenheim | Olivert Reise Arnor

Mueller Vander

Mint

Elise Schwarzer

Alfin Reise Arnor

Towa Herschel

Juna Crawford

Altina Orion

Celine

Preferred pairings, if necessary: Olivert/&Mueller, Angelica/Towa, Alfin/Elise

More Erebonian worldbuilding is always exciting. The Reverie corridor, or Nord versus Bryonia... or Isthmia... or Osgiliath Basin. Explorations of Valimar's past Awakeners would be interesting, if inevitably tragic, especially given the Loas and what they portend. Also, it's been made very clear that when people are Vanished, they go somewhere. But where? More explorations of the Outside would be cool.

I was...pretty frustrated about CS IV, to tell the truth. So I'm focusing a little on fix-it fic, particularly for Olivert, who really didn't get the resolution to his ongoing feud with Osborne he deserved, nor the time with his, you know, good friend. Would love to see more for him with Priscilla or Alfin?

I’ve been really taken with the vision of Tita and Mint growing together as meisters and learning so much from each other and from Valimar. Especially loving that the major players of the next orbal revolution are basically all female–Tio, Alisa, Renne, Tita, Mint…they are kind of the face of progress right now. Where will they take it? Olivier/&Mueller is always an excellent choice, with added stab-me-through-the-heart potential re: the end of III. Any kinds of instructor antics with Towa, Juna, and Altina would be cool. Don't know why it's Towa and not Rean, but I hope they have fun!

Hear me out: AU where Elise is the Awakener and she and Alfin go to Thors instead of Rean...imagine the potential with Mint, with Towa... even with Celine!

Speaking of Celine, I am rather fascinated with her status as Holy-Beast-in-Waiting. Would love to hear more about the ramifications of that.

FANDOM DNWS: Crow treated as a redeemable woobie, harem antics, Celine's alternative form, Olivert/Schera, spoilers for Hajimari or Kuro.

LUNAR

Nall

Ruby

Jean

Jessica Alkirk

Alex Noa

Mia Ausa

Luna Noa

Hiro

Leo

I'm putting my heart into your hands by requesting this one. It's one of my oldest fandoms, right up there with FFVI or Chrono Trigger, and I have so many questions and wonderings about what happens next or, frankly, what happened before! So much worldbuilding potential in either era, between Vane, the new dungeons that were built (or the sewers that are still somehow solidly under Meribia for that matter), the dragon caves...why did they move habitats between the old era and the new? In fact the world seemed to change a lot between old times and new... what happened there...

Nall & Ruby as bookends to an age where people KNEW Althena existed to a time where they can definitely know that she no longer does is an interesting thought! The stories they can share with each other.... the stories they can tell the next dragons... also I would love to know more about old Alex and Luna and their friends. I hope the adventures didn't stop entirely!

Jean, as Jessica's kind of spiritual successor, would be a really cool one to juxtapose! Maybe she finds some artifact of Jessica's that speaks to her somehow? Likewise Lemina and Mia, although Lemina didn't get nommed. Or maybe Mia makes an effort to leave something for those who will come after her?

Would love to know what Hiro thinks he's going to do on the Blue Star with Lucia. Help them pls. And look... I just need more Mystere. Mystere antics, especially post-EB!

TOTALLY NORMAL WIZARD APPRENTICE

Wizard

Apprentice

Master

Parrots

Fish

Justice for the parrots and fish, first and foremost. They're magic pets and the Apprentice has a lot of tower to make a way through...

How about the Wizard as an apprentice? Back in the day she was probably also an appalling little shit. Or antics with her and the Apprentice's Master, somewhere in their 300 years of friendship. Feel free to throw in recursiveness in there, it being a theme of the story!

Or heck, the Master and Wizard fallout when the Master finally gets back to see what's going on with his apprentice...

CARTO

Storytender

Shianan's Puppy

Shianan

Samala

Luak

Granny Maldpo

Chirb

Carto's Puppy

Carto

I was so taken with this adorable little game! It's so cute and sweet! I loved the Story Chalet and would love to hear more tales of the Storytender and the things that place puts him through.

Shianan with and versus Carto as friendly navigational rivals, especially now that they both have puppies! A race perhaps? But one where Carto can't just cheat with her map skills, somehow...

Samala and Luak were just cool as the respective leaders of their people and surely they have or will run into more Navigators? And dear Chirb, still trying to figure out his relationship to the forest and the Mother... I would like to know more about how that goes in future.

And, of course, Granny Maldpo! Cool old lady of my heart!! Give me an old lady's navigation adventure, flying high with her grandddaughter and dog! Or Maldpo and the Storytender, doing research and chasing Shianan+puppy through the chalet! Or Maldpo building her airship! I love herrrrr OK!

FAR: LONE SAILS

Oppidumotive

Okomotive

Mailbox

Lone Henriksson

Henriksson

The tenderness and strength inherent in inheriting a lonely, uninhabited world with only an okomotive, an oppidumotive, and a mailbox to call home...and then losing both the vehicles and limping to the end with only the mailbox... Lone Henriksson, everyone, and I love her with all my heart.

I'd love to know what vagaries of fate or happenstance led to her being the only one of the Henrikssons or his Sons to survive and keep moving forward. Missing moments on her travels! Taking a moment to shelter from a storm! There's so much cool stuff you could do with the radio too... but I especially like the idea of Lone and the Okomotive being both characters that look after each other, in their respective ways, in their own rights.

Congratulations on making it all the way to the end! I know it’s a lot but I really hope this letter has done its job and that it provides you with some thoughts to go on with. Thank you for thinking of me and I look forward to whatever you write!

#writing af #trick or treat letter 2021

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philsdrill · 7 years

Text

Chapter 27: Relax

Fic Summary: “Everyone had a link with their soulmates, some could hear some of their partners thoughts, some had a tattoo that would appear with their partners name; for me, I knew when they got sick.” For a while Phil has thought that his soulmate might have an eating disorder and doesn’t expect to meet him in the restaurant where he works.

Genre: a lot of fluff, recovery, really fucking domestic, waiter!Phil

Warnings: eating disorders, anorexia, bulimia, hospitals, panic attacks, references to past abuse, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, a lot of awkwardness, small amounts of smut. This is potentially triggering so for your own sake, please think twice about reading if anything this might affect you.

Disclaimer: I don’t have personal experience with eating disorders, but have done some research. If I have anything about them wrong, feel free to send me an ask and I’ll sort it out.

Word Count (for this part): 5.5k

[Uploads will be hopefully every couple of weeks! (follow @philsdrill-updates to hear when I post)]

A/N: Guess who actually pretty much stuck to the two week schedule this time!? Anyway, I’m now living in my uni accommodation and I’m still alive. Things are stressful already, like I just had my first project submission today and I keep having to go and buy food, which is a bit weird doing it all myself. Things are different, but I’m slowly adapting and hopefully my writing won’t suffer too much.

MASTERPOST

<= Previous Chapter

TRIGGER WARNING: blood and self harm (extra warning for this chapter as something in the last two weeks has reminded me how important this is)

Dan’s POV:

Everyone slept in the next morning, which was a relief as we all needed the sleep. Phil and I were still first through to the kitchen to get the breakfast stuff set up. Once we had all the plates, bowls, cereal, milk and everything we would need on the table, I took Phil aside to look at his hands which he had cut at work last night.

I tore the plasters off for him, as it was always easier having someone else do it. Phil yelped, particularly as I pulled off the one on the palm of his hand, as this seemed to have become one with the dried blood, effectively yanking the scab off with it. I guided him over to the sink and washed his hand carefully, to get rid of the excess dried blood. I patted his hand dry with some kitchen roll, then put fresh plasters on his fingers.

I gave the cut on his hand some time, as it had started to bleed again, waiting for it to dry up a little before I stuck a plaster on it. As this one looked a lot more angry, and was clearly having a harder time healing than the smaller scratches, I put some antiseptic ointment on the plaster before smoothing it down onto Phil’s hand.

With Phil’s hand sorted out, we got started on out breakfast. I took on making the coffee to make things a little easier for Phil; he was having a little difficulty with his sore hand. It wasn’t long before Adam and Ethan joined us; Adam looked awake and up for the day ahead, whereas Ethan looked tired and miserable.

When breakfast was over, Adam headed to get ready as we were about to head out to go shopping. Ethan, however, just said he was going back to bed. Before we left, I asked Phil to make sure and keep an eye on Ethan. Adam could tell that he wasn’t in the best frame of mind and it was probably best that someone kept checking up on him.

Before we left, I went to ask Ethan if he needed anything. He was bundled up in his and Adam’s duvet and responded only with an, “I don’t know.”

“How about a razor and some shaving foam?” Adam suggested, “Some shampoo you’re not allergic to?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ethan nodded, his expression remaining rather grim.

Adam took a note of what he was to get, a specific shampoo that Ethan used at home and knew he was fine with and a handful of shaving products for sensitive skin.

We headed out in the car, leaving Ethan and Phil at home. Once we were in the shop, our first stop was the condoms and lube, because that was really what we were there for. Adam picked up the lube I had shown him yesterday, as he had no knowledge of anything else. He decided to stick with the Durex brand for condoms too and after a couple of minutes of discussion, he had a box of ‘extra safe’ ones sitting in our basket.

“You can experiment with fancy lubes and ribbed condoms some other time if you want, but as beginners, these are probably best,” I said, approving of his choice.

“Is there anything else I need?” Adam asked, looking thoughtful.

“Hmm…” I said, thinking aloud, “Let’s get you a packet of wipes; that’ll make cleaning up easier. Don’t worry if you mess up the sheets though, that just means that you’ll need to wash them.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” Adam nodded, starting to move to look for the wipes.

After finding wipes, we collected the rest of our small shopping list: paracetamol for the cupboard and shampoo and shaving stuff for Ethan.

Adam had expressed that he’d like to get back quickly, so we didn’t spend too much time looking at other things. He had been feeling sadness from Ethan the entire time we’d been out and I think it was starting to get to him. I paid for our shopping and we headed home, getting Adam back to his soulmate as quickly as possible.

Ethan was still in bed, wrapped in the duvet, in the exact way in which we’d left him. He looked profoundly miserable; his eyes red from crying and his hair still messed up from bed. I spoke to Phil and it sounded like he’d tried his best, offering him coffee and making him hot chocolate, but he didn’t touch the hot chocolate and wouldn’t speak to Phil about what was wrong.

Adam sat with him and tried to hold him to comfort him, but Ethan just pushed him away. Adam was a bit distraught after this and came to me and Phil looking for advice. In the end we decided the best thing to do would be to give him some peace and have Adam check up on him now and then.

When Adam did return to check on Ethan, he found he was asleep. Adam left him be, hoping that sleeping would help him to feel better. He poked his nose in about every half hour for the rest of the morning, in case he woke up and needed someone.

It was just after lunch when Ethan woke up, Adam suddenly feeling a strong bout of emotion and audible sobs coming from their room. Adam went to investigate and Phil and I listened out in case we were needed for any reason.

It turned out that Ethan had woken up from a dream where he’d tried to kill himself, we discovered, after Adam had called out to us for some help. Ethan had opened up the razor we’d got him and started to cut himself and Adam was clearly too overwhelmed to know what to do. He’d managed to persuade Ethan to drop the blade, but he was bleeding.

When Phil and I arrived, Ethan was sobbing into Adam’s chest, while Adam held onto his bleeding arm. Seeing the damage, I sent Phil off to get our first aid stuff, while I moved the blade a safe distance away. I sat down on the bed and took Ethan’s arm from Adam, while he explained what had happened.

I had enough time to study the cuts before Phil put the first aid stuff down next to me. I could see that Adam was managing to calm Ethan down a little, so I gave it a minute before starting to take care of his arm. With an antiseptic wipe, I cleaned up his arm, letting me see the cuts more clearly. I decided that a dressing with a bandage around it was probably the best idea. I got what I needed ready, then cleaned up some more blood that had appeared before I applied the dressing and wrapped the bandage around.

Adam was doing his best to keep Ethan distracted, but I worked quickly, pronouncing it done once I was satisfied the dressing was secure. I let go of his arm and watched as Adam guided Ethan’s arm back between them. Ethan was still crying a little, but I could see he was a bit better now he had Adam holding him and reassuring him.

“Is there something that’s been bothering you today?” Adam asked Ethan, “You haven’t been feeling so good have you.”

Ethan shook his head, “I guess my antidepressants are wearing off now that it’s been three days since I had them.”

“You’d started antidepressants!?” Adam said, a little surprised, “You never said.”

“Just over a week ago,” Ethan told us, “I wasn’t really sure they had started working, but I feel so shit now; I think they must’ve.”

“I think you should phone your doctor and see if you can get an appointment to get a new prescription,” I said, “As soon as possible is probably ideal, so d’you think you’re up for phoning?”

“I guess, but I don’t think I have the number in my phone,” Ethan said glumly.

“If you hold on two minutes I can find it because you’re at the same surgery as me and Phil,” I told him, digging my phone out my pocket and finding the Doctor’s surgery number in my contacts.

I showed Ethan the number and he put it into his own phone. I gave him a rough outline of what he'd need to say, then a few deep breaths later, he pressed the call button.

Ethan did stumble over his words a few times, but he did a reasonably good job of explaining to the doctor that his home situation had changed and he was no longer living with his parents. He didn't bring his antidepressants with moving out so suddenly, so he hasn't taken them in three days and has now been having suicidal dreams, is really tired all the time, isn't feeling good and has been cutting again.

“Do you have anyone with you at the moment? Who are you staying with?” the doctor asked, concerned.

“Yeah, my soulmate and his brother… and his brother’s soulmate,” Ethan explained.

“Okay good,” the doctor said, sounding relieved, probably glad he was still staying with some sort of family, “You need to really trust them and let them keep an eye on you.”

“Okay,” Ethan said a little timidly.

“Right, well I'm having a look at my availability,” the doctor said, his mouse clicking quietly in the background as he spoke. “There's nothing today, but I can see you first thing in the morning at nine am.”

“Okay, that would be great,” Ethan said, a little shakily.

“Don’t worry about it; I’ll just have a little chat with you about how you’ve been feeling and we’ll get your new prescription sorted out,” the doctor explained.

“Okay,” Ethan said, nodding even though that wouldn’t be visible to the doctor.

“Ethan, before you go, can I make sure you still have a note of the suicide hotline number in case you need it?” the doctor asked.

“Yeah, it’s in my phone,” Ethan confirmed.

“Okay, good good. Try and make sure there’s always someone with you until I see you. Is your soulmate there? Could I speak to them??”

“Yeah, you’re on speaker and he’s right next to me,” I explained.

Adam said hello to confirm that, and the doctor began to reiterate what he had said about making sure Ethan wasn’t alone, “... and I mean at all times, like I know it’s an invasion of privacy even if you are soulmates, but even in the bathroom.”

Ethan groaned, loudly, so much so that the doctor heard, “Ethan, I’m trying to do what’s best for you. Also, I know it’s difficult, but if you do get a moment when no ones with you and you feel urges, go to them… or you have the number if you need it.”

The call ended with the doctor reminding Ethan he would see him nice and early tomorrow and and Ethan replying with a simple goodbye. When the call was hung up, he dropped his phone onto the bed and curled into Adam’s arms, crying a little.

“You did good,” Adam told him, “Everything’s going to be okay. The doctor’s going to help you get back on track tomorrow.”

“Yeah…” Ethan said, trailing off, sounding a little unconvinced.

“How are you feeling about that?” Adam asked, for a change asking Ethan to explain how he was feeling, rather than just relying on their bond.

“I don’t really know,” Ethan said, “Like I understand it’s good, but there’s part of me that still just wants to die rather than get help. I feel kinda confused, really tired and everything in my brain’s a bit fuzzy and I don’t really feel that great in general.”

“I think a shower could help you feel better,” Adam suggested, “Plus you haven’t had one in two days so it’s maybe an idea.”

“Yeah… I guess,” Ethan agreed, “…so are you coming with me then?”

“Yeah, I think that’s the best idea,” Adam nodded.

Phil and I left to let Adam and Ethan get ready for their shower. I was glad Adam was looking after him, but I was a little worried about that they could get up to in the shower; shower sex wasn’t really for first-timers.

My mind was eased by the length of their shower, which seemed about normal. The most they could’ve done in that time was a handjob, but I wasn’t going to go asking. They both looked damp and fresh and Ethan looked a lot better, despite sporting a patchy stubbly beard.

The beard was why we’d bought him a razor. I could tell from his itching that it was bothering him, but I’d confiscated the razor for now. I guess we could let him have it under supervision. I fetched the razor and explained to them that it would be best if Adam stayed with him while he shaved and they brought the razor back to me afterwards. I didn’t want to risk Ethan having any more incidents.

A while later, Ethan reappeared looking a lot tidier, still with Adam glued to his side. He passed me the razor, which I took away to put someplace safe. After speaking to him for a moment, Phil started to make Ethan some sandwiches because he had missed lunch. Phil made himself sandwiches too, something to keep him going until after work. He was working from four-thirty until nine today, so usually he would have something to eat before he left and something else when he came home.

Again, I was left to sort out dinner for Adam and Ethan, but this time I had an idea. Ethan had been looking really down all afternoon, so I wanted to cheer him up.

“Ethan, what’s your favourite food?” I asked him.

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“If you could have anything for your dinner, what would it be?” I asked, trying to get an answer out of him.

“Domino’s Pizza maybe,” he said, looking indifferent, “I haven’t had that in a while.”

Taking Ethan’s favourite food into account, I ordered Domino’s pizza for Adam and Ethan and some vegan takeaway for myself. Despite the toppings they requested sounding good, I wasn’t feeling up for that many calories or that much fat. A dish of low calorie vegetable and tofu stir fry sounded much better.

Adam hadn’t left Ethan’s side since after the earlier incident, until after dinner when he asked me to take over for a bit, “Could you keep Ethan company so I can go take a shit?”

“Yeah sure,” I said, abandoning clearing up the dinner for the time being and joining Ethan in the living room.

Ethan was sitting in the chair over by the window. Initially, I’d just sat down on one of the sofas and started speaking to him from across the room, but I was noticing quite a lot of anxiety in his responses, a shaky voice and laboured breathing.

I opened the window to let the air circulate a bit, something I often found helpful, and pulled another chair over to sit down next to him.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked him, “You’re sounding quite anxious.”

“Yeah, I am a bit,” Ethan admitted, “Not really feeling that great.”

“Hopefully the fresh air will help,” I said, gesturing to the now open window, “Can I do anything else?”

“Could you just talk for a bit?” Ethan asked, a little breathlessly, “Adam sometimes does that and it distracts me from how I’m feeling.”

Taking inspiration from the view of the car park out the window, I started to talk to Ethan about how our previous flat was on the fourth floor and had a much better view. I spoke about all the things that this flat had better, its little quirks and things which made it a good home. I found thinking about this little home of ours rather comforting, and I hoped that I help Ethan to feel more at home as this was pretty much his home at the moment.

Ethan had stood up to look at something outside that was too low to see when seated, “D’you think you would die if you fell out from up here?”

“I don’t quite know, but probably,” I said, thinking about how big a drop it was.

At first, it didn’t really cross my mind why Ethan was asking, until I saw him looking down with a strange look in his eyes. It struck me as a combination of excitement and fear. I didn’t know exactly what emotions he was experiencing, but I could tell that he was thinking about about the possibility of jumping out the window.

“Ethan,” I said firmly, trying to get his focus back on the present.

“Hmmm?” he mumbled, clearly distracted.

“We’re going over to the sofas, okay,” I said, putting my hands on his shoulders and starting to pull him in that direction.

Ethan came with me and then sat down on the sofa when I told him to. I hurried back over to shut and lock the window, pocketing the key. I didn’t know how unstable he was at the moment, so I wanted to be on the safe side.

When I returned to Ethan, he was crying, so I took a seat next to him on the sofa and asked him what was wrong.

“I’m scared… like I keep getting urges to do things that I’m not quite sure I want to do,” Ethan explained shakily, “I don’t want to leave Adam, but there’s a part of me still wants to d...die and I’m scared that I’ll do something stupid. I’m scared of myself.”

Ethan was curled up as small as he could get, sniffling quietly. I offered him a hug and despite being nothing compared to Adam, he accepted the offer anyway.

I sat with my arms around Ethan until Adam returned from the toilet. I let him take over the hugging and explained to him what had happened, “We were over by the window, but we moved over here because he was getting ideas… so we had a little scare, but he’s okay… right Ethan?”

“Yeahh,” Ethan sighed, sounding unsure.

After being in Adams arms for a couple of minutes, Ethan announced that he wanted to go to bed. It had only just gone seven o’clock, but at this stage, neither Adam or I were worried about his sleep schedule. We just wanted him to feel as okay as he could, and if that meant sleeping a lot at weird times of day, then so be it.

With Adam glued to his side, Ethan headed off to bed. I wasn’t necessarily expecting Adam to come back, but he was back in the living room within about ten minutes.

“He’s fast asleep,” Adam explained to me, “I figured I could leave him because he’s completely out of it. I’ll go and check on him every so often; there’s only so long I can watch him sleep for without getting bored.

Adam sat himself down in Ethan’s earlier seat at the window. I explained to him that I’d locked the window to keep Ethan safe and suggested he should keep an eye on him if he went too near any other open windows. Adam nodded, now looking a tad more worried than he had already.

“I know it's a lot of responsibility at the moment, but hopefully the doctor will get him back on his medication tomorrow and things will get better soon,” I said, attempting to ease his stress a little, “But in the meantime, if you need a break for five minutes, like when you went to the bathroom, just let me know, okay.”

“Okay,” Adam nodded, still looking a bit down.

“I’m going to go and do the dishes,” I told him, with a little pat on the back, “Just shout or come and find me if you want to talk.”

Adam nodded and I walked through to the kitchen. I could see he was a bit stressed out about Ethan, but I could understand why. I was too to an extent, knowing that Ethan was still having suicidal feelings. I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have Phil in that situation. For the moment, I would give Adam a little space, as I needed to get the dishes done anyway.

I was halfway through doing the dishes when I got a text from Phil.

I’m coming home early

Wondering why he was leaving work at half seven when he was meant to be working until nine, nearly two hours early, I replied.

Why? Is everything okay?

After waiting a few minutes and receiving no reply from Phil, I decided I’d finish up the dishes quickly and ask Adam to watch out for him, “Adam, can you keep an eye out for Phil coming in? He’s coming home early and I don’t know why.”

“Sure thing,” Adam said, paying more attention to what was outside the window, “D’you think he’s okay?”

“I hope so,” I said, feeling a little worried. I could say for sure that he hadn’t been throwing up, but he could be feeling sick and I wouldn’t know. Equally, it could be anything; no one said he was ill.

I hurried to get the dishes finished before Phil was home so I was free from responsibilities if he needed me.

As I started to rinse off the last dish, Adam called out to me, “That’s Phil in the car park.”

“‘kay, thanks,” I said, moving the dish to the dish rack and pulling the plug.

I wandered over to the window, where Adam was and not seeing Phil in the car park, I asked Adam if he’d seen him come out the car yet.

“Nope,” Adam had replied, continuing to watch.

After waiting a little, while, I decided to phone Phil and see if everything was okay. I called him and the phone rang a good few times, but eventually he picked up.

“Dan?” Phil said, his voice sounding very rough, as if he’d been crying.

“Phil are you okay?” I asked him, “What’s happened?”

“I… I…” Phil started, choking on sobs which interrupted what he was saying.

“Okay, I’m going to come down,” I said to Phil, feeling the need to be with him, “I’ll be with you in two minutes.”

I hurried to put on a pair of shoes, then jogged down the stairs, keeping Phil on the line. As I left the flat, I asked Adam to put the kettle on, “Adam, I don’t know what’s up with Phil but he’s crying. Could you maybe put the kettle on ‘cause I feel like I could be making him tea.”

I hurried across the car park to Phil’s car, and opened the driver’s door, to where Phil was sitting, sobbing. I crouched down to get on his level and gently removed one of his shaking hands from in front of his face.

“Phil,” I said softly, holding his hand, “Phil, babe, d’you want to tell me what’s wrong here or shall we head in first?”

“Inside,” Phil choked out, a few more sobs wracking through his body before he could control himself again.

“Okay,” I said, getting up and taking a step back to give him space to get out.

Once Phil was out the car, I took the keys from him, shut the door and locked it. Once I’d pocketed the keys, I took his hand and slowly started to lead him towards the building. After walking a few steps, I noticed that he seemed a bit unsteady and put my arm around him for a bit of extra support.

We made it up the stairs alright, with me holding Phil’s hand tightly and doing all the doors on the way. As soon as we were in the flat, he headed straight for the sofa and continued to cry. I followed right behind him and joined him on the couch, curling myself around him to hold him while he cried.

“Adam, could you make tea, milk and two sugars?” I asked Adam, turning my head away from Phil a little so I wasn’t being loud in his ear.

“Sure,” Adam replied and headed for the kitchen.

I held Phil for a minute or two and he slowly managed to calm his crying a little, reducing to unhappy sniffles instead of loud sobs.

“Phil,” I said, gently rubbing my hand up and down his back, “D’you think you can tell me what happened?”

“I tripped going up the stairs with two glasses of red wine and one went flying off the tray. The wine went all over a lady in a white dress and the glass smashed on the floor in front of me. I fell in the glass and the lady started screaming at me about how much of an idiot I was and how she was going to speak to the manager and get me fired,” Phil explained, rushing the words out and stumbling over a few of them in the process. “She screamed at me even when I was lying in a pool of wine and glass… I caused a complete scene and the entire restaurant was staring at me. I’d started to clean it up when the manager came up to see what was happening. I was scared he was gonna fire me but he just took over the cleaning and sent me to get a plaster because my hand was bleeding. Once I was in the back room sorting out my hand, I realised that my shirt was covered in wine and it had ripped a little at the shoulder seam and I just couldn’t stop crying about everything the lady had said. I couldn’t face going back out there. My manager came looking for me about ten minutes later ‘cause he hadn’t seen me back out at my tables. He told me that he’d spoken to the lady and I can’t even remember what else he said because I was crying too much. I he told me to go home, t-text him when I’m feeling up to it. I don’t even know if I have a job anymore.”

I had been holding Phil close the throughout his entire explanation, but now that he had finished, he broke down again, sobbing into my chest. I gave him a minute to just let his emotions out before I tried to say anything to comfort him. Adam had now returned with a mug of tea, which I gestured for him to lay down on the table.

“Phil, you didn’t do anything wrong; you were just unlucky,” I mumbled to him, “Are you hurt anywhere other than your hand?”

“My hip and shoulder hurt a lot from how I fell,” Phil said, nodding solemnly.

“Okay,” I nodded, reaching out and grabbing the tea now he was probably calm enough to take a drink, “Have some tea at the moment and we’ll get you painkillers in a minute.”

Phil took small sips of the tea, albeit rather shakily. I still had an arm around him and was doing my best to give him a little comfort. I noticed Phil wincing as he moved his shoulder in lifting the cup up to his mouth and then swiftly swapped it to the other hand.

“Adam, d’you think you could get the ibuprofen?” I asked Adam, “They should be in the top cupboard of the ones next to the oven.”

I thanked Adam as he returned from the kitchen with the tablets. He was being a big help; he didn’t deserve me asking him to do things on top of everything else that he was dealing with, but he was being so good about it.

It would take a while for the painkillers to kick in, but once Phil had taken them, he seemed to relax a little with knowing they would help. I suggested to him that he could go and take a bath, both to wash off the red wine and maybe soothe his bruised body.

I got the bath running and then went through with Phil when it was ready. I told Adam that if he or Ethan had any problems just to shout or come and knock on the bathroom door.

I sat on the bathroom floor while Phil was in the bath, keeping him company, but letting him have the space to relax. I found it adorable, the way his head and shoulders were poking out of the mountain of bubbles, but now wasn’t the time to be in awe at Phil’s cuteness; he needed consolation.

I knew it would be a bit of a sore spot until Phil had spoken to his boss and confirmed things were alright, but I talked to him about his job, attempting to lessen his negative thoughts around it, “Phil, love, I don’t think you’ll have lost your job. You’re a hard worker and I know you bring a lot to the business. Everyone has little slip-ups and accidents now and then; its human nature. And even if you do lose it, you can make the most of it and use the opportunity to take another step towards achieving your dreams. Have hope, okay?”

Phil nodded sadly, but I could see he was processing what I’d said. After that, I didn’t say anything else to him about his job, letting him guide the conversation towards something less stressful. About half an hour later, when the conversation had slowed down, I suggested that Phil should get out now. I knew the bath would be starting to get cold and his fingers would be starting to shrivel up like raisins, so it was about time.

When I’d run the bath, I’d brought through some of Phil’s favourite pyjamas, wanting to provide all the little creature comforts that would cheer him up. Once he had dried off, I unfolded the pyjamas and passed them to him, watching as he nuzzled his face into the soft fabric of his t-shirt as he pulled it over his head.

Once Phil was dressed and standing up, I pulled him into a hug, wrapping my arms tightly around his back. Phil nestled his head into the crook of my neck and let out a sigh.

“Things’ll be okay Phil,” I told him, rubbing his back a little, “Let’s have a relaxed evening tonight and don’t stress out too much over what happened. We’ll sort it out in the morning.”

“Thanks,” Phil mumbled, exhaling against my neck.

“Let’s go back to the living room and settle down with some blankets, maybe put something on the TV,” I suggested, giving Phil a little squeeze before releasing him from the hug.

I never let go of Phil completely, joining our hands as we made our way to the living room. I cuddled up with him on a sofa, no longer feeling the need to hide our affection from Adam, now that he had Ethan. The three of us put on a film; Adam left every so often to go and check up on Ethan, but overall it became quite a relaxed evening.

Around eleven o’clock, we all went to get ready for bed. Adam wasn’t really that enthusiastic about going to bed so early, but I suggested he should at least get his pyjamas on and get comfortable; he could watch something on his phone with headphones in if he wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet.

After getting myself and Phil ready for bed, I checked in on Adam and Ethan one last time before actually going to bed. I found them cuddled up together, watching something on Adam’s phone with one earphone each.

“Ethan couldn’t sleep well,” Adam explained, looking up at me and pausing whatever they were watching.

“Yeah, I was having bad thoughts that kept waking me up,” Ethan said, sounding rather fed up.

“Okay, I get that,” I nodded, “But try again soon, okay? Would a hot drink or anything help?”

“Actually…” Ethan said thoughtfully, “Could you?

“Yeah, sure. What would you like?” I asked, “Tea? Hot chocolate?”

“I know I've brushed my teeth but hot chocolate would be nice,” Ethan nodded.

“Yeah, just don’t tell the dentist,” I said, with a laugh, “Right, I’ll be back in five minutes.”

I headed to the kitchen and quickly put together a hot chocolate, just a simple one, no marshmallows or anything. I took it to Ethan and wished the pair of them goodnight, wanting to get back to Phil and cuddle with him in bed.

Phil and I got to sleep pretty quickly. He’d had a stressful night at work and it had clearly tired him out. I knew we’d have a few things to talk about in the morning, but I was glad he had been able to take it easy this evening. I was glad he had been able to relax.

Next Chapter =>

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phanfluff #phan fluff #tw #tw; ed #soulmates #soulmate au #au #fanfic #waiter!phil #ed #someday

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hellcheer-munson · 8 years

Text

Wren - a Newt/Tina fic

Tagging: @pinkdiamonddolphin

And here it is, as promised…the birth of the miracle baby Scamander! ❤

Phoenix – 22nd June 1931 – 9 (going on 10) Linnet – 13th January 1933 – 8 Leo – 3rd March 1935 – 6

Set in May 1941.

That May brought sunshine and flowers to the vast open fields surrounding the Scamander household; there was a calm peacefulness those first few days of May, the air filled with cheerful birdsong and the sound of children’s laughter as they explored the world around them. The blissfulness was surreal, lovely and welcomed.

And then on the fourth evening, sometime after the children were tucked into bed and their parents settled with mugs of hot cocoa for the evening, the contractions started.

Despite the fact it was late, Newt had hurriedly run down the road to the Kowalski home at Tina’s insistence to find Queenie and Jacob; when they opened the door, looking alarmed by how out of breath he was, he simply locked eyes with his sister-in-law – and she knew.

“Teen’s having the baby,” Queenie realized, eyes widening as her lips curled upwards. “Oh, Newt, how wonderful!”

“Yes,” He panted. “Very, but…but the children…are in bed…and we…we need…”

The blonde witch nodded immediately. “Of course, honey – just give me a sec to change.”

She had pointed her wand at her slip and less-than-demure nightgown, transforming it into a slightly more appropriate outfit for that time of evening, and followed him briskly up the path; Jacob waved them off, grinning as he shouted his congratulations to Newt.

Once they had reached the house, Queenie was immediately by her sister’s side and putting an arm around her. “You’ll be alright, Teen…I know it hurts, I know, but just think: you guys are gonna have a little baby soon. How fun is that?”

Tina wasn’t exactly sure she’d describe new babies as ‘fun’ but she didn’t have the energy to retort to that; instead, she allowed her sister to press a kiss to her cheek and then followed Newt to the fireplace to use the Floo Network. Flooing was awful and she hated it, but it was safer for the baby than apparating (she had learnt that the hard way with Leo).

As it turned out, getting to St. Mungo’s was only a tiny fraction of the battle.

The previous labours had been like strong clenches, something pulling at her insides and not letting go – this was closer to being tortured, and she knew because she’d experienced the hot burn of a Cruciatus curse before during her career.

“I’m sure everything is fine,” Newt told her optimistically, patting her hand. “After all, we’ve done this three times before – once without Healers – so I’m sure we’ll manage just fine.”

“Yes,” Tina gritted out warily. “But it’s never hurt this much.”

He bit his lip then, looking somewhat fretful. “I know, dear, I know. It probably won’t be long at all – then we’ll be holding the baby, you’ll see, and all of this will seem rather small in comparison.”

Well, that was easy enough for him to say, he supposed: he wasn’t the one having to actually give birth.

Newt spoke to her softly as they waited for a midwife to come by their room, rubbing soothing circles first on her hand and then her back when she complained of it hurting; he spoke of their creatures, hoping to distract her somewhat, and then of their children – they were all excited for a new brother or sister, and the three of them would eagerly be waiting for their parents to come home with the new baby. Tina did give a pained and weak smile at this, her nails digging into his hand uncomfortably – he didn’t say anything, of course, for he knew better than to provoke or annoy a birthing mother.

When a Healer finally did enter, she gave them a kind smile and immediately set about checking Tina over; Newt politely averted his eyes when the midwife started to prod about between Tina’s legs, instead looking at his wife and sending her as positive a smile as he could manage.

“You’re doing well so far,” He encouraged her quietly. “Now, remember, it’s best to keep calm – it won’t be long-”

“You’re two centimetres dilated,” The Healer interrupted, standing up and going to clean her hands. “You still have eight more to go until delivery.”

Tina looked horrified. “No…No, I’ve been in labour for three hours now, I’ve got to be more than two centimetres!”

“I’m afraid not. I wouldn’t worry too much though,” The older woman added hurriedly. “I’m sure things will pick up soon – sometimes it’s just a slow start.”

It was clear by the look on Tina’s face that she was already exhausted – the very idea of having to wait for her cervix to dilate another eight centimetres seemed appalling. Newt could only squeeze her hand, resting his chin on the top of her head, and sigh.

“I know,” He murmured comfortingly. “But you can do this, Tina – I know you can, and I’ll be with you every step of the way. I have the utmost faith in you.”

As with their other children’s births, Newt promised to stay by her side and help her through it as much as he could – if he’d been able, he would have done it for her because she was clearly in a great deal of pain and he never wanted her to go through that…but, alas, that was not possible, and so instead he settled for the next best thing. His comforting felt slightly useless, but it was better than nothing.

It won’t be long, he repeated to himself and to Tina as firmly as he could; it was nearly three in the morning and they were both tired, but he couldn’t very well leave her like this – no, it surely wouldn’t be much longer.

“Can’t I just sleep through it?” Tina muttered, wincing as another strong contraction hit her. “Is that possible?”

Newt paused, thinking about it to himself momentarily. “Well…I suppose in some cases it might be possible…I’ve never really seen a beast sleep during labour, though I’m sure humans would be different of course…”

Three o’clock turned to four, then to five – and still, there didn’t appear to be much progress. Their midwife returned twice to check how dilated Tina was, only to shake her head apologetically – apparently she was only dilated by four still, nowhere near enough to start pushing.

“If they ask to cut the baby out,” Tina gritted through her teeth when the Healer was out of earshot. “Tell them to do it – I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

She was a strong woman and always had been; she was an Auror, she had a relatively high threshold for pain and didn’t cave easily – that alone made it obvious just how much agony she was in. He promised her that, should the Healers advise cutting the baby out like they had with Linnet, he would give his consent: if it lessened her pain even a little bit, it had to be worth it.

The midwife entered the room again shortly before eight that morning when Tina suddenly felt something tearing in her stomach; her hand slipped from Newt’s, weak and limp – and he knew something was very wrong.

As he squeezed her hand, attempting to get her to squeeze back, the midwife gave a quiet gasp from the end of the bed; when she stood up, her hands were covered in blood – and Newt’s heart stopped in his chest at the sight because he knew that that was an awful amount of it.

Two more Healers were summoned quickly, and then they were hurriedly pushing him from the room; he protested, trying to get past them so that he could stay with Tina – she was growing paler by the second, looking ill, he had to stay with her, didn’t they understand – but their stern looks and sharp words halted him.

“Mr Scamander, you need to wait outside – your wife is losing an excessive amount of blood, and we have to stop the bleeding as soon as possible.”

Newt didn’t want to wait outside at all – he wanted to be in there with his wife, to hold her hand and make sure she was alright, to help coax and support her through it…but the blood…he suddenly felt extremely sick at the thought of it. Bleeding wasn’t uncommon during labour, he’d learnt that through helping his creatures birth their offspring, but this amount was too much.

Worrying means you suffer twice, He told himself, repeating it like a mantra in his head as he paced the corridor outside the room: worrying means you suffer twice.

Newt thought of Tina, so deathly pale, losing blood as she struggled to bring their baby into the world.

Worrying means you suffer twice.

He thought of Phoenix, Linnet and Leo; he thought of how jubilant he and Tina had been when they’d been born, so unbelievably happy with each of them. Phoenix was just like Tina; dark hair, brown eyes, a quiet and stubborn determination – Linnet had her eyes too, and her stubbornness was more pronounced, more obvious. Leo was his mirror image, and though neither parents had favourites it was obvious Tina had a soft spot for him.

Worrying means you suffer twice.

He thought of their unborn baby; they had wanted another baby for so long only to have the idea crushed, to be told it was impossible – but they’d managed it somehow, they’d conceived this baby and they both already loved it more than they cared to admit. They had struggled through the entire pregnancy, it had been difficult, but they were both still eager and excited.

Worrying means you suffer twice.

His personal philosophy suddenly seemed meaningless – of course he was worried! Any man in his position would be, Newt thought, and he allowed himself this moment of panic. He worried that the baby wouldn’t be alright, that something would go wrong with the delivery and affect them dreadfully. He worried because he had three children at home who would be anxious to see their parents come home with the new baby, three children who needed their parents.

Most of all, he worried because his wife was currently in a hospital bed losing an unholy amount of blood, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The birth canal had ruptured, a Healer told him half-an-hour later; the baby had also been facing upwards instead of downwards, and it had been causing her more pain and stress than was normal or healthy.

“Will you need to cut the baby out?” Newt found himself asking anxiously.

The midwife sighed, shaking her head. “No, I’m afraid not. She’s lost so much blood already that it would be unwise to risk it…we’ve managed to staunch the bleeding for now, but it could easily start again when she has to push.”

“Can I…?” His throat was dry and he had to swallow before speaking. “Can I go in and see her?”

“It’s for the best if you stay out here, Mr Scamander. If she starts to bleed again, we need to be able to help her immediately.” She looked sympathetic. “Don’t panic yourself too much – we know what we’re doing. If you let us get on with our jobs, your wife and baby will hopefully be fine.”

Newt didn’t know whether to believe it or not; it was nearing nine in the morning now, nearly ten hours of labour – and while he knew she had endured longer, it didn’t stop him from being concerned all the same.

He could hear her screaming from the corridor.

Tina had never screamed like that in her life, not even with their other children’s births – it was a scream of anguish, of pain, of fear, and it was all he could do not to rush into the room to her.

I’m going to go mad, Newt thought to himself anxiously, hunching over so far forward in his seat that his face was nearly pressed to his trousers; he wanted to block out the noise, wanted to distract himself because he knew it was quite possible he’d go crazy at this rate. The Healers didn’t seem to share his concern – whenever one exited the room, they simply smiled tightly and informed him things were going well. How could it be going well when she’s screaming in agony?!

He had promised he wouldn’t leave her – he’d promised it first on their wedding day, that he’d always be there when she needed him, and then in the delivery room too he had sworn he would help her through it. The sound of her sobbing in pain only served to remind him how he had failed at even the simplest of tasks – she did so much for him, for their family, and he couldn’t even be there to hold her hand or comfort her.

It stretched on for hours and hours; Newt was briefly aware that he had missed breakfast and lunch that day, though such things seemed rather insignificant in comparison to what was occurring in the hospital room, and he was absolutely shattered from a lack of sleep. He didn’t bother attempting a nap, knowing it would be fruitless to try sleeping through such an event – instead he would wait, he told himself: he would wait for the Healers to come out and give him news, and he would wait to make sure Tina and their baby were fine too.

It was four that afternoon when the midwife exited, looking frazzled and tired; Newt stood up immediately, desperate for her to give him some news. “Is she alright? Please tell me Tina’s going to be fine – has the bleeding stopped? Is there anything I can-”

“Mr Scamander,” Her voice was soft as she spoke to him, and he was surprised to see that the corner of her mouth had lifted. “Your wife is perfectly fine – and so is your daughter.”

Tina was sat propped up against a mountain of pillows when he entered; she was still deathly pale and looked exhausted – but she smiled at the sight of him, reaching out to beckon him closer. Newt immediately sat down at her side, taking her face into his hands gently and pressing a kiss to the top of her forehead.

“Merlin, Tina, I’m so glad you’re alright…”

“Me? ‘m fine,” She dismissed, quite weakly. “Was nothing really.”

Despite himself, Newt couldn’t help but chuckle – out of relief, mostly, relief that she was alive and relatively well. “I knew you could do it, love: you’re the strongest, most amazing woman I know.”

The Healer entered shortly afterwards, holding a swaddle of blankets; she gently passed the bundle to Tina, making sure that she was steady, before congratulating the two of them with a smile and excusing herself to give them some time alone. As soon as she had gone, they found themselves looking down at the baby – their baby – in a mixture of awe and joy.

“Linnet got her little sister,” Tina whispered, and her husband grinned to himself. “Look at her, Newt…look at how perfect she is.”

Their daughter was perfect: though she was relatively small, it wasn’t unhealthily so – with cherub pink cheeks, long eyelashes that fanned out and soft dark down on the top of her head, there was no denying how utterly wonderful she was. Newt felt that his heart was going to explode from the sudden rush of love he felt wash over him, warm and sweet; without meaning to, he found himself growing tearful at the sight.

“Hello,” He found himself murmuring, voice thick with emotion. “Aren’t you lovely? You might have given your Mummy some trouble, but I think you’re going to be more than worth it, aren’t you?”

The baby gave a squirm, wriggling about in the blankets and scrunching up her face; when Newt looked at Tina, he saw that she was teary-eyed as well. “They said she’s healthy,” She muttered, a radiant smile breaking out across her face. “She’s healthy and beautiful and…and just look at her.”

“She’s wonderful,” He agreed earnestly, and he pressed his lips to the side of his wife’s head softly. “She’s going to be like you, Tina…she’s already got your hair, and she’s going to be just as strong and lovely too, I know it.”

Tina leaned into him, eyes glazed over slightly as they focused on the baby. “I love her already… I love you.”

“Yes,” Newt affirmed, putting an arm around her shoulders. “I love you too.”

Queenie was the first to visit the hospital later that afternoon; her eyes were glistening, smile wide and infectious, as she hurried over to her sister. “Congratulations, Teen – and you too, Newt…tell me about the baby!”

“Well-”

“A girl?!” Queenie exclaimed, cutting Newt off completely. “Teen… Oh, she is beautiful – she looks just like you already, I can tell, and…that sounds rough! But you’re okay now?”

“I’m fine,” Tina told her, somewhat weakly. “They stopped the bleeding, no problem…don’t worry about me, Queenie.”

Newt offered Queenie a chair near the bed, smiling at her fondly. “So, how are the children? Have they behaved?”

“They’re darlings,” She assured him. “They played at our place all day; Phoenix and Linnet went to the bakery with Jacob for the day, and Leo’s just been reading your book, Newt. They can’t wait to see you guys – and they’re all excited ‘bout the baby too.”

The visit was short for it was getting late, but Queenie promised to return early the next morning with the children to see the baby; it was just as well really, for both Newt and Tina were exhausted by the whole ordeal. As Tina got comfortable for the night against the pillows, eyelids drooping, she suggested her husband return home – he was adamant about staying, of course, and he resumed a rather uncomfortable position stretched out on two chairs.

“Newt, honestly, I’ll be fine for the night…”

“No, no,” He disagreed firmly. “I’d feel far better if I was nearby, Tina – I’ve slept in far worse conditions, believe me.”

Newt woke up the next morning with a stiff neck and an ache in his lower back; his spirits instantly lifted, however, when the midwife appeared with their daughter, saying it was time for a feed. Tina looked only marginally better, still pale and tired – but her face lit up as the Healer gave the baby to her, a wide smile spreading across her face.

“Have you thought of a name yet?” The midwife asked them as Tina settled the baby against her breast.

“Err…no,” Newt admitted, casting a glance at his wife. “Not really.”

“We’ll…We’ll think of something,” Tina muttered, though she looked uncertain.

With their previous children, the names had seemed to come to them quite suddenly – but for some reason, neither of them could quite manage to think of a sufficient name for their daughter; they both wanted something somewhat unique, though not so much so that there was potential for teasing when they went to school. They knew they needed a name soon, however, for the paperwork still needed to be filled out before they could even think of going home.

“Perhaps we could name her after my mother?” Newt suggested. “I know Florence is perhaps rather old-fashioned, but it could be shortened quite easily-”

“As lovely an idea as that is,” Tina interrupted, looking somewhat apologetic. “It’s kinda taboo to name babies after living relatives…it’s a long story, but…”

None of the names either of them came up with seemed right for their daughter – none of them really seemed to fit her, and they were both in agreement that they needed the right name. This topic was soon forgotten, however, when Queenie appeared in the doorway of the hospital room beaming – and she was closely followed by the older three Scamander children.

“Mummy!” Linnet cried out happily, running up to the bed. “You’re alright!”

“Did you have the baby, Mummy?” Leo asked excitedly, tugging on Queenie’s hand to bring her into the room. “Where are they?”

“In the nursery,” Newt chuckled, shaking his head at them. “Did you all have fun with Auntie Queenie and Uncle Jacob?”

Linnet beamed at him. “Uh-huh – we helped Uncle Jacob in the bakery, and then we got to eat his pastries, and then Auntie Queenie bought me a book when we went to Diagon Alley…”

Phoenix was grinning boyishly as he helped Newt bring some chairs over, face bright and eager. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

Linnet looked ready to burst into tears of joy when they informed the children they had a sister, practically hopping up and down in her seat; Phoenix looked slightly put out for a moment before shrugging and smiling, clearly pleased nonetheless, and Leo looked awestruck as he realized he was no longer the youngest.

“I’m a big brother?” He asked Newt, looking stunned; when his father nodded, he beamed happily. “Auntie Queenie, I’m a big brother!”

“I know, sweetie,” Queenie giggled, ruffling his hair affectionately. “And you’ll be a wonderful big brother too!”

A Healer brought the baby in for another feed shortly after the children had arrived, and they all watched in fascination as Tina took their younger sister into her arms. Linnet’s fingers were twitching, clearly eager to hold the baby, Phoenix was smiling fondly, and Leo’s mouth was agape.

“What’s her name?” Phoenix asked after a few minutes.

“Well…she doesn’t have one yet, I’m afraid,” Newt admitted. “Here, why don’t you all come and take a look?”

Phoenix was so tall that he could stand and see perfectly fine, thankfully, and so Linnet and Leo settled on either side of their mother so that they could peer at the bundle; it made Newt’s heart soar when they all looked rather taken by the baby, watching intently as she wriggled. Queenie put a hand on his arm, beaming to herself, as she read his thoughts – she didn’t need to say anything, for they both knew how he felt already.

“She was born facing up,” The blonde suddenly said, looking rather amused. “They have stories ‘bout that kinda thing, you know…in some countries, they call those babies ‘star-gazers’ and believe they’re ready to take on the world.”

He sent her a surprised look. “How do you know all of this?”

“I done my research,” Queenie informed him coyly. “You end up doing a lot of it when you’re having babies, hearing a lot of things when you go about…”

“She’s so pretty, Mummy,” Linnet cooed. “I’m like you, Mummy – I have a sister too!”

“Yeah, you do,” Tina agreed amusedly. “I’m glad you like her, Lin; you’re gonna have to look after her, show her how to do things.”

Her daughter nodded enthusiastically, not taking her eyes from the baby. “Yeah, I will… And I’ll be able to show her my book too!”

“What book?”

“Auntie Queenie got me a book in Diagon Alley,” Linnet explained happily. “It was about muggle birds; now I can tell what birds are what! See, there’s crows and they’re big and black, then there’s sparrows and they’re real small…oh, there’s even a bird called a linnet, like me!”

Newt was affectionate as he pushed one of her messy pigtails behind her ears, chuckling to himself. “Yes, we named you after a linnet bird – they’re very small and loud.”

Phoenix snorted. “That’s definitely Linnet.”

She shot her brother a dirty look but continued speaking enthusiastically. “I already knew about owls and hummingbirds…and there’s wrens near our house too!”

“Wrens are very inconspicuous birds,” Newt noted with a nod. “But they have loud and complex songs.”

The conversation had soon changed topic - it wasn’t until later when Queenie took the children home (beaming somewhat knowingly to herself as she did) and the Healers had taken the baby back to the nursery that Tina turned to Newt thoughtfully, clearly having had a sudden idea.

“How about Wren?” She asked him curiously. “Like a bird.”

“Wren?” He repeated, somewhat surprised. ��Wren… Wren Scamander.”

Tina nodded. “Yeah: she’s small, loud – I think it fits her. What do you think?”

Newt thought it over to himself, picturing their new-born daughter in his mind – and then he grinned at his wife quite unabashedly. “I think it’s perfect, Tina…absolutely perfect.”

Whoo, the last baby has been born and I can write some other stuff! 😊 Thanks to the anon who suggested the baby facing up idea – I know who they are and they know I know and I just wanted to thank them! 😊

I haven’t listened to the audiobook yet :/ I’m so busy writing fics and stuff that I haven’t got the time – it’s already 11pm over here, and I have rehearsal at 9am 😲

I hope you all enjoyed!

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