#the closest feeling i can get to being a piece of space debris | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gaiuswrites · 4 years ago

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Five of Pentacles

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | one

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the attack on Jortho, you begin your journey to scower the systems for galactic aid. The Mandalorian takes you aboard his ship temporarily, agreeing to shuttle you to your next destination. You both figure your tenure on the Razor Crest will be short lived... But you've been wrong before.

Word count: 3.8k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings: blood/gore, minor character death (mentioning), mature themes/language, vomiting

Notes: Hi friends. Here we go. Chapter 2... The last paragraph is marked with ///|||///, denoting a change to Mando's POV— his pov will be cropping up now and again, and I have a tendency to play with the timeline/tenses when it does. Enjoy x

You have to think about it. Genuinely.

It takes longer than you’d like to admit, with the Mandalorian looking down at you expectantly, a gloved hand slotted against his belt—postured and waiting.

‘Do you have a way off this skug hole?’

You open your mouth, but no words come out. It snaps closed. You swallow, but the action provides no relief. Your tongue feels too big for the small space it’s trapped in; too swollen, too dust logged— like you could choke on it, if you really tried. Finally, a single syllable frees itself, the weight of it plummeting through your ribs, ricocheting off the bones until it lands in your stomach with a dull, sinking splash.

“No.”

He doesn’t move.

“Do you need to get anything?”

You shake your head, small at first, phantom movements, before stringing together a sentence. “N-No. It’s all gone. Everything I had- it all went up on the shuttle-“

Oh gods, the shuttles.

Your heart seizes, a cold hand like a vice, gripping the bloody organ. You feel green; sickly chartreuse slithering it’s way up your esophagus, poisoning your soft palate. There were pilots on board when the ships blew. Two on each one. That’s four— four people. You knew their names. Knew their home planets. Knew about their families. One had a kid. Fuck. That’s four dead, and you didn’t even think of them— Maker, how could you not have thought about them?— No, fuck, fuck fuck-

It didn’t before but it’s hitting you now, stabbing you right between the eyes, the image of their bodies disintegrating in the blast wave, charring up like coal and carbon. You breathed them in, you realize. Their corpses coat your lungs.

The thought is all it takes.

Your feet move on instinct, scrambling to the side of his gunship where you vomit, bracing yourself against the riveted siding as you hack and sputter, wretching bile and what little broth you’d had for supper to splatter onto the cracked earth. Mercifully you’re hidden enough around the corner that you don’t think the bounty hunter sees, and if he does, he has the curtesy not to say anything.

What a gentleman, you think dryly, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.

You pant, body beyond spent, chest heaving as you press your scratched palm into the durasteel, the cool metal soothing it’s sting. Moments stretch like this— you doubled over, catching your breath— before you stumble back into view, graceless and encumbered, as if you didn’t just casually throw up down the front of yourself. You stand below him at the bottom of the ramp. He’s still there, a fixed point. Steel boots welded into the steel ramp.

“Uhm, are you-“

You cough, and it’s an ugly, hoarse sound; your throat burns, roughened and raw around the edges, and your nerves are too strung out for polite colloquialisms. You don’t have the energy to play coy and tip toe around the question. You’re fucking tired.

You try again.

“Are you offering me a ride?”

And now it’s his turn to hesitate, almost like he didn’t fully think the proposition through— as if it’s all just dawning on him now.

The Mandalorian didn’t strike you as someone who familiarized himself with answering to anyone— or picking up hitchhikers, for that matter— even if the offer was his to begin with... That was what he was doing, wasn’t it? Those words in that order? He meant to give you transport off planet? He wasn’t just… making conversation? Did Mandalorians even do that? Maker, if you’ve read this whole situation wrong, no small thanks to a laser-brain full of mush, you reckon you’d die from embarrassment on the spot where you stood, splotched with soot and puke and blood.

You think he’s going to tell you to shove off— you see his hand balling into a fist at his side— and close the ramp right then and there. Be rid of you. Sluffed, like a flea from a dog.

But he doesn’t. He surprises you both.

“Yes.”

Oh. Oh. Kriff, okay. Think think think-

Your mind reels and you’re rambling now, words ending and beginning in the same breath— steamrolling over yourself.

“Okay, I-I need to go back in to town, just for a—I cant let them think I’m just leaving them like this... Is that okay? I’m sorry, I won’t take long, I promise, I just— they need to know I’m getting help. Is that- uhm, can you wait? Can you wait for me?”

There’s another unreadable pause that makes you want to bury your head in the cold, fallow soil.

The man is looking at you like you’ve grown another kriffing leg, but eventually he grumbles out a noise that sounds like an affirmative, turning on his heel, and disappears into the belly of the ship— leaving you there alone.

Alone.

Pin pricks needle at the nape of your neck and the hair down your arm stands on end.

Alone.

You’re alone for the first time since the attack and suddenly you feel half your size and shrinking smaller still, like atoms collapsing and folding in on themselves until they dematerialize completely—and you along with them. You tell yourself to breath. To fight the bubbles of panic as they burst and pop, dimpling you from the inside out. Breath. Focus, he said. Focus.

You shift your weight from foot to foot, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

The Mandalorian never reemerges.

Well… you guess that was your cue.

///

Staggering back into Jortho is like sleepwalking through a nightmare.

The smoke from the bombing has completely engulfed the lower atmosphere, doming the town in a thick canopy; the sky is blackened, starless, and the moons hover noncommittally like mere suggestions in the dark canvas.

Half the town had been decimated to rubble, and the other half was covered in the shockwave of it’s explosion— caked in grime, windows knocked out, doors splintered open. You almost expected the pieces to have reversed themselves back up, like you’ve seen in holovid special effects—homes rebuilding, fires dousing themselves, air purifying itself from the smog… but they don’t. They remain in shambles.

Time has granted you the unforgiving gift of clarity, and it’s one you’d rather not have been given. You don’t want to see the aftermath without the saccharine filter of shock to cushion you. The town is just as you left it, but somehow worse— worse because you can hear the crying, now. The wailing. You didn’t before with the blood pumping in your ears, deafening you, but you do now. The woeful noises that reverberate over the crackling embers still smoldering, the muffled sobs being choked down behind fractured walls.

Tripping over stray debris, you find Hareem close to where you’d left her, her fuse short hair grey with ash. The blood you smeared from her cheek still clouds her skin there, staining it as it does your fingers that wiped it. She wobbles to her feet and meets you in the middle of the road.

Neither of you speak, not at first. You hold onto her shoulders, and like a pillar of salt, you quake.

You try explaining to her that the communication’s system on your transport freighter had been blown up alongside the town, that you’ve accepted a ride from the bounty hunter and that you’re getting off world to contact the RRM headquarters, that you’d stay if you could but you can’t and you need to call for assistance, for help. You try to tell her that you’d do anything— travel through dimensions, if you could, to undo all of this chaos— if the laws of time allowed it.

You want to go back and pretend today never happened. To unlearn the tremor in your hands as they grip her frame. To unlearn all of this. To unknow. But,

you can’t.

All you can do is move forward. Do the next right thing. Take the next right step.

You’ve explained yourself in circles but it still doesn’t feel like enough. The words feel shallow, like slapping some bacta on a severed limb, and guilt rips through you— your voice torn with it.

“But how can I leave now?” you ask helplessly, eyes skittering around you. “After all- all of this?”

Hareem finds your hands, her spindled fingers encasing your own. A crease engraves her forehead, little lines clustering around her eyes. “You’ve done enough, hm? You go now. Go with that Mandalorian. You can’t shoulder this alone.”

“Har-“

She doesn’t let you say it. The older woman soothes a thumb into the web between your knuckles.

“Make contact. Comm for aid. It will come, but it won’t if you stay here.”

Your shoulders release with a defeated sigh. You know the Balosar’s right— you’re the one who’s told her as much. That’s RRM protocol. In case of emergency, you were to comm in and reconvene with the closest branch to your system to send additional supplies and volunteers to the camp. You know this better than anyone here, and yet this woman, this refugee, was the one aping your mission back to you.

She’s firm. Kind. “You’re just one person.”

Briefly, you wonder if she’s a parent. You think her child would be lucky to have her as their mother-- all of her somber strength. You think you would have been lucky, too.

Maybe things would be different—maybe you’d be different.

You gather yourself, piece by piece, and give her knobby hand a squeeze. You bore into her, determined and unwavering. You need her to understand. “I’m not abandoning you—any of you. I need you to know that, okay? I’m not leaving you alone in this.”

She smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I know, my friend,” Hareem says plainly, a sad sort of resolve quieting her tone. She has no fight left, nothing left to give— as empty as her pockets, lint lined and turned out. Barren. “I know.”

///

You weave your way back to the ship, feet padding across the arid landscape. You don’t blink, not even once, eyes crusted open and gaping. You barely remember the trek but somehow you’ve managed it, treading up the ramp, the thuds sounding hollow and foreign to your ear.

“I’m not a taxi service.”

You nearly jump out of your skin.

“Maker almighty,” you gasp, hand coming up to clutch your canary heart, beating fast and frantic. He’s just standing there, waiting, the dimmed lights of the hull glinting off his beskar. It’d only been a few hours, but you had already somehow forgotten how kriffing imposing he was, how ominous. A vacuum in space.

“O-Okay,” you stutter, a twitch in your brow.

“I’ll get you as far as you need to go, but on my terms. I’m not making a special trip— can’t promise you when.”

You nod. You’re not sure what to say. Lamed, all you can do is repeat yourself.

“… Okay.”

“What sector?”

“Bajic,” you start, fiddling with a loose thread poking from your sleeve. “We- uhm, the RRM, we have a branch there, but then—” your throat bobs as you swallow your words, and he gives you an exacting look, tilting his helm subtly. There was no getting around it.

You’re pinned.

“Coruscant. I’ll need to get to Coruscant,” you finish quietly.

Did you just hear him ‘tsk’ under that metal bucket?

“It’ll take a while to get to the Core. Longer than you’d like.”

And here you go, babbling again before you can stop yourself, throwing up defenses, excuses— back pedaling. You’re earnest, and it’s dripping from you. “Listen, if this is too much, I get it. You don’t owe me anything. Really— you don’t have to take me anywhere you don’t want. I-I, honestly, I’m just grateful you even considered it.”

Silence. An endless sea of silence.

No current, no breeze. It feels like you’re stranded in dead water, drowning in it. Again, you hang there on bated breath, just waiting for the man to chuck you from his ship. Not worth the effort. Not worth the fuel.

And again, he surprises you.

He tips his chin, gesturing to the side. “Fresher’s that way. We’ll be up in five.”

You exhale, visibly relieved, and mumble a thank you before shuffling off in the direction he motioned towards. You get one foot through the door before you hear him.

“Dala,”

Your attention snaps to the Mandalorian. There’s that word again—you think he’s called you that before—but there’s something different in his voice now, a lilt you’d not yet heard from him. What is that? Nerves?

“There is… one more thing.”

You cock your head just as a gargled coo comes from somewhere behind him.

///

You look like bantha shit.

Which, considering the events of your evening, should probably go without saying— and yet, the woman staring back at you in the small refresher mirror still manages to startle you.

You’re covered in dirt and cinders and contusions you hadn’t had the luxury to notice before. With the adrenaline retreated from your veins, you finally feel the full scope of your injuries and Maker do they hurt. Your tunic is torn at the collar and the fabric is discolored, pants and boots scuffed and ashen. Your bottom lip is swollen, a split running down the side of it, the seam of which is cracked with dry blood. Your palms are scratched— knuckles, too. There are narrow licks from shrapnel bites nicking your forearm. Twisting your body, you discover a dark bruise already blooming on your shoulder from the initial impact of the blast. You’re stiff and achy all over, and you can practically hear your bones creak and groan with each strained movement.

You turn on the faucet and begin to bend forward before you wince, a sharp pain gripping your skull. Ginger fingers come up to touch the back of your head, patting around tentatively until you find a raised bump and something viscous wetting the strands of your hair. You pull your hand back, inspecting it— more blood, glistening black under the low light.

Your eyes flit back up to your reflection.

You should be scared at this point, you guess. Worried, at the very least, by all of this—by the gore of it, the cuts and marks. But it’s your eyes that frighten you most— they’re hard. Devoid. You don’t recognize them. You’re a stranger.

You blink. She blinks back.

Rust red water eddies in the basin of the sink as you scrub yourself clean. You let out a hiss as the cold stream hits your skin. You count your breaths.

///

Being anywhere on board his ship without the Mandalorian feels wrong. Unnatural. Like you’re a tourist, out of place.

Unsure of where else to go, you find yourself in the cockpit with the bounty hunter, sitting in the seat beside him. Glancing over the knobs and dials and pulsing displays, your focus drifts in and out, posture slumping, lids growing heavy, darkening around the edges of your vision, blurring—

“Try to stay awake.”

With a sharp inhale, your eyes snap open, blinking wildly, and you scoot your hips up higher into the seat. You shoot the back of his helmet an inquisitive look you’re not sure he sees, but he responds to it all the same.

“Could have a concussion.”

“Didn’t know you were a doctor,” you reply, tone low and rolling. Maker above, apparently the final stage of shock was sarcasm. The fact that you thought it wise to damn near sass a Mandalorian on his own ship after he saved your kriffing life...

Stars, maybe it really was a concussion. Brain damage. Had to be.

He doesn’t acknowledge the quip, which you can’t readily blame him for. A quiet beat, red buttons flickering against the dark of the cockpit, and then—

“There’s bacta in the medpack. Might not be much left.”

You’re wide awake now.

Your rebuttal is immediate, bristled even, words escaping before you have a chance to even consider his suggestion. “No— no, thank you, but I’m not taking the last of your supplies. I’ll be fine, you’re- you’re doing enough for me already.” He graces you with another of his grunts, a hush following closely behind it.

Your gaze wanders—it wanders onto him, and you watch him.

Watch as the stars dance across his armor, incandescent and shimmering. Hypnotic, even. Something you hadn’t noticed before catches your eye, and you have to crane your neck to get a good look at it. It’s hard to make out, but you think there’s a symbol on the pauldron adorning his shoulder. You can’t imagine it’s completely cosmetic, seeing as the hem of his cape is frayed and worn (and the fact that being a lethal hunter didn’t really scream ‘needless decoration’), but maybe, if you work up the courage somewhere between here and Coruscant, you’ll ask him about it.

His posture is carved out of stone and he sits like a statue, spine rigid under all that beskar. Fleetingly, you wonder if it’s heavy, if it’s uncomfortable—to carry it with him wherever he goes. But you suppose he’s grown accustom to the weight, wearing it like a second skin.

He’s broad too, you note. Of course he is, you recognized that straight off, but inside the confines of the ship, without the towering Lothal sky as his backdrop, it truly strikes you just how large the Mandalorian is. He engulfs the space around him. Devours it.

You stay like this, entranced, studying the man properly for the first time, allowing the muscles behind your tired eyes to relax on him— until his visor notches up quickly and meets your line of sight in the mirrored pane of the window, catching you in the act.

Kriff.

You avert your eyes, an embarrassed warmth crawling up your neck, suddenly finding a particular panel soldered to the wall incredibly interesting— looking anywhere else but at the faceless stranger you’re saddled with.

The kid gurgles, interrupting the awkwardness, and you’ve never been more grateful for a three pronged toddler in your life.

He’s sitting in the copilot’s seat opposite you, as if the tiny thing is navigating for the Mandalorian, and he’s completely dwarfed by the massive chair. Everything about him juxtaposes the other man. He’s all brown robes and wispy peach fuzz, and he looks almost comically out of place against the interior of the gunship. He’s playing with a shiny metal ball in his lap, and with one small arm, he extends it to you like a gift.

Out of the two of them, the child was a one man welcoming party.

“Is this for me?”

He gives a soft patuu, and your heart nearly bursts. You take it from him gently, and the little guy coos through a babbling grin, cheeks round and impish. “Thank you,” you tell him, all serious-like, and you have to actively suppress the squeal that threatens to break free from you. He glances to the Mandalorian with such a look in those big eyes; its hard to make out, but you think its something close to pride or satisfaction, maybe: Look dad, I shared my toy.

Kriff, this kid is cute. Like, dangerously cute.

You both take each other in like this; your micro expressions, his pruned little forehead, your fleshy form, all soft lines and angles. You’re sure you look just as strange to him and he does to you, especially given the only other lifeform on board he has as reference is coated from head to toe in metal. The child’s gaze snags on a lock of your hair, little teeth peeking through his mouth, eyes glued to it like a metronome as it dangles. You give your head a little shake, strands waving, and he giggles. You skip the ball over the hills of your knuckles, dazzling him momentarily.

“Does he have a name?” You ask, his eyes like black saucers peering curiously at you, and you give him back his toy— an offer he eagerly accepts.

“No.”

“So what do you call him then?”

“Just ‘kid’.”

A beat. “... Do you have a name?”

“Mando.”

“Just ‘Mando’?”

“This is the Way.”

You nod, worrying your cheek absentmindedly as you stare out the transparisteel. This is the Way. You’re not entirely sure what the phrase meant, but you know respect when you hear it— how reverent it sits on his vocal chords— and by the manner of which the man, this Mando, spoke, you can tell there’s more to those words than you know.

And you can appreciate his desire for anonymity; it doesn’t bother you much—you figure you won't be around long enough for it to matter anyways. You don’t know a lot about the Mandalorian people, but you have heard rumors. Everyone had. That’s all they were anymore: rumors and stories. Legends. Just seeing one was rare, and talking to one even rarer. But flying with one and his adorable, green baby? It was… definitely unique, to say the least.

You share more dulled quiet. And although the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable now—you’re settling in to it— it’s not exactly desirable either, but it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t last.

Mando clears his throat, breaking the white noise that’s blanketed the three of them. He doesn’t turn his helmet. He keeps his focus straight ahead. You watch his reflection in the ship’s window and you can’t know for certain, but you think you feel your eyes brush against his, if only for a moment. A unintelligible noise filters through his modulator.

“Do you?”

You grin, a slow smile tugging at your lips.

“Last I checked.”

It’s the first smile he draws from you. The first of many.

///

Despite Mando’s warnings and better judgement, sleeping is exactly what you end up doing. You pass out, hard, stirring only once when an errant beep sounds through the cockpit. You’d fallen asleep right there in the chair, chin tucked into your chest, hair fanned across your cheek, arms wrapped around your waist in a measly attempt to trap your body heat to you. You’ve woken to find the cockpit empty— the ship must be on autopilot, you think— and by the illuminating glow of hyperspace, you spot his medkit, sitting open on the seat across from you and in it, nestled among old wrappings and gauze, a single patch of bacta.

///|||///

That smile.

Din remembers this moment, much later, holding it like a photo in a locket. Private. Secret. He keeps you there, gold plated on a chain, to loop around his memory.

Encircling him. Strangling him.

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #mando x fem!reader #King of Cups #ngl i got kinda emotional writing some bits #idk why but the hareem scenes kill me #din djarin fic #mando x you #din djarin x you #no y/n #pedro pascal #mando x female oc #din djarin x female oc #ofc

160 notes · View notes

jugandbettsdetectiveagency · 4 years ago

Text

nancy/ace; 2x11 drabble

Her nose itches, her fingers are freezing, and she’s ninety percent sure that’s blood over there on the asphalt.

She swipes a lock of rain-damp copper hair away from her eyes and tries to calm the rapid pulse of adrenaline shooting through her veins. It threatens to spike again at the sight of deep, claw-shaped gouges in the metal of the truck parked in the centre of them all.

Someone—a girl in a dirt streaked white jacket—screams. It all happens pretty fast after that.

“Like a heat emergency?”

“There’s something wired into the engine.”

“Guess we inhaled.”

The five of them hold themselves like caught breath. The glass bauble holding the key to their memories swirls lazily in front of them, like it’s got all the time in the world to let them figure this out themselves. A low grunt cuts through the tension.

“Hey, does anyone here know where I can get some bandages?” the guy that spoke last adds. Their eyes all move in unison, down to where he’s gingerly cradling his leg. Even in the dull, overcast light a great gash is clearly visible across his thigh. “‘Cause, ow.”

Instinct has her moving first, ushering them all towards the shack that’s signposted as The Claw. “Okay. Let’s try in there.”

The restaurant is empty other than a whirlwind of debris, made up of makeshift weaponry and pieces of scrawled on paper, littering nearly every available surface.

“Hey, look,” one of the other girls says, pointing. In the corner of the room stands a pinboard. Among an array of other things, photos of each of them are tacked to it. “It looks like we made ourselves reminders of who we are.”

“Can you read ours out while I,” she gestures at the soaked denim covering the thigh of the guy with the soft-looking hair.

When she glances up he’s already looking down at her, where she’s pressed up against his shoulder, a contemplative expression on his face.

“Did you know you stand very close?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—” She takes a step away on the pretence of finding the first aid kit.

He follows, grimaces when he puts too much weight on his injured leg. “That’s okay. You smell quite nice. Flowery.”

“Oh. I— Thank you. You… have very pretty eyes.” She ushers him into the closest chair as an excuse to hide the redness tinting her cheeks.

“Thanks. If I remembered what they looked like I’m sure I’d agree.”

She learns she's Nancy and he’s Ace, and, beyond the fact they both work here, very little else.

“And I’m Nick’s girlfriend,” she hears the girl, George, say.

The other boy, Nick, grins back at her. “Nice.”

Their chatter, cut through with the more discernible lilt of a British accent—belonging to Bess, Nancy repeats to herself—fades into the background as she tries to get her fingers to cooperate enough to do a decent job of stemming the blood flowing from the cut. And it is a cut, too clean to have been made by the same thing that attacked the truck outside. She files that information away for later.

Ace, for his part, puts up with her fumbling with minimal resistance. He only starts to shift in his seat when Nancy can sense he’s gearing up to speak.

“You think,” Ace begins, barely a second later. So, she thinks, allowing herself the barest smirk, maybe she knows him pretty well. “You think any of the rest of us are dating?”

That throws her. “If we are, we didn’t write it down on the cards,” she answers diplomatically.

“Right, of course.”

Nancy doesn’t know what it is, but she doesn’t like that she’s the reason those eyes have dulled by a fraction. “Maybe it’s a new thing,” she corrects in a rush. She clears her throat, trying to put as much of her attention into taping up Ace’s leg as possible. “Hypothetically. We haven’t told people yet so we didn’t write it down. Although, it’s not like they’d remember right now if we did.”

Nancy exhales shakily. This… whatever this flustered feeling flapping about in her chest is, it’s throwing her. She gets the sense she’s usually more sure footed.

“I’d definitely want to tell people. If, say, you and me… you know. Were,” Ace says. He catches her eye and holds it, the smooth lines of his face betraying nothing but sincerity.

The warmth in her cheeks is back. “Guess we’ll find out when we get our memories back,” Nancy murmurs. She secures the last of the bandages and draws away.

A smile, part puckish, part shy, hides at the corners of his mouth. “Fingers crossed.”

“If this place isn’t cleaned up by tomorrow a Viking god isn’t the only one who will be unleashing their wrath upon you.”

Nancy looks up from where she’s sweeping away the worst of the mess to lock eyes with Bess on the other side of the counter.

“It’s so good to have the old George back, isn’t it?” Bess says sweetly, even as she violently wrings out the dish rag between her hands.

Nancy’s snort gets lost to Nick loudly interrupting before George has a chance to bite back. “I, for one, think it’s very good.” He leans down to drop a soft kiss to her upturned lips, staying there until some of the tension leaks from George’s shoulders.

Allowing herself a deep inhale, Nancy turns away to pick up her full dustpan and carry it out back towards the trash.

“Oh!” She rounds the corner, drawing up short to stop herself colliding with Ace’s chest, grip tightening on the dustpan to keep it stable. “Sorry, excuse me.”

Ace drops his hands from her elbows now that she’s steady, but otherwise stands his ground. “They never show you this part in the movies. I think far less people would be tempted to invoke supernatural entities if they all ended with a cleaning montage.”

They’re standing so near she’d have to crane her head back to look him in the eye, but they’re pressed way too close for that. Instead, she keeps her gaze downwards where it catches on her haphazard patch up of his leg wound.

“Speaking of clean up, you should really go and get that checked out. I am no nurse and it is probably on its way to being infected as we speak.”

“What did I just say about invoking supernatural entities? I heard about George’s wrath from way back here.”

“Go,” Nancy says, rolling her eyes. “You’ve got a good enough excuse to bail.” She gives his arm a little shove, as much to get him moving as to give herself some space to breathe.

She wasn’t sure, when they’d all stood over the apparatus and inhaled their memories, if they’d get to retain every reset they went through. And as the different versions of herself poured back into her head, playing like the slides of a movie, she didn’t know if she was happy that, apparently, they got to remember it all.

She swallows, making an attempt for light. “Besides, I’d say I’m well equipped to deal with vengeance at this point, even from a harried George. I’ve got your back.”

“Would never doubt the Hero of Horseshoe Bay.”

He still doesn’t move to leave, waiting, and the pressure of one reset in particular is building in her chest until she can’t not say anything anymore.

“Listen, Ace,” she calls out when he’s about to let the back door swing shut behind him. “About… about some of the things that were said when we were… not really us.” Nancy let’s her eyes flutter closed for a breath, steeling her nerve in the face of Ace’s ever unreadable expression. “Today was strange enough without trying to figure anything else out. We can just forget it all happened. It’s okay.”

Silence stretches out between them, and Nancy is about ready to hitch up the last of her dignity and leave when Ace speaks.

“I think,” he says, tapping his fingers against the edge of the door. “I’ve had enough forgetting for one day.”

She catches a flash of that same smile from earlier, the one that’s just for her, as he rounds the corner. “Goodnight, Nancy.”

#nancy drew #nancy x ace #nace #i wasn't sure I was even gonna post this cus #i don't do this anymore lol but #idk im doing it and its giving me anxiety lmao #bonus scene at the end is specifically for liv bc shooed me until i did it #literally #all references to soft hair are for beth bc its facts #writing

98 notes · View notes

amerrierworld · 4 years ago

Text

Babysitter (pt 9)

Thor (Ragnarok) - fanfiction

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: A Loki interlude.

Characters: Hela, Loki

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: Idk, swearing?

Loki was incredibly annoyed at the current situation.

He’d woken up on a random, clunky spaceship with a pounding head and a bruised neck. He remembered the world going blank and being quite certain that he’d been dead until, frustratingly so, his lungs gasped for the most painful breath he’d ever taken.

A janky pirate ship had snatched him from floating in space amongst the debris, stripped him of his armour -no doubt to sell or melt down into other knick knacks- and left him in the back amongst the cargo. They’d presumed he was dead, so when he had woken up, they had a bit of a shock.

Not a word was comprehensible, Loki couldn't understand whatever gibberish language they spoke, so he ignored them and shuffled to their food supply. That got him a whack on his back from a whip and a kick to the back of the knees.

Trying to take back his armour also earned him a few bruises. They didn’t seem very dangerous, but quite a nuisance.

Amongst the cargo he found familiar debris that struck an icy chord inside Loki. There were piles of Asgardian clothing- ripped and filthy, but Asgardian nonetheless. Bags with very few belongings, and metal scraps of the ship they had been on.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the remainder of the ship of refugees was probably lost. When the pirates began to beat him again for rummaging through their stuff, a rusty old pipe amongst the stolen goods helped quiet them down immensely.

With his kidnappers knocked out, Loki scarfed down what measly rations they had and set course for Earth at light speed -well, the closest speed they got to light speed which was more like a quick paced jog.

He tied up the crew and tossed them in the back, and lounged in the cockpit as the ship traveled on autopilot, picking scraps of food from between his teeth.

Communications on this ship were absolute garbage, he concluded. There was barely any signal and he couldn’t figure out where the closest planet was. So, he took a nap, ate some more food, and tried not to think too much about the harrowing experience of Thanos choking him to death.

Hours later, they entered a very familiar atmosphere. Loki let the ship crash-land, grabbed a bag of few supplies and hopped out just before they hit the ground.

He marched on through the thicket of trees where they landed. Angry shouts that were no doubt curse words echoed from the smoking ship as he left them behind and tried to gather his bearings.

An old cabin was the first building he saw. With a rusty dagger at the ready, he inspected the home around the back, looking for a vehicle he could take, something to get him moving faster than his legs, when suddenly a high pitched shriek nearly shattered his eardrums.

A young girl, no older than six, was staring at him with big brown eyes. Rain boots covered in mud, an aged stuffy in her hands. Loki put his finger to his lips, dreading that he was going to have to kill the girl before she gave him away or screamed bloody murder.

“Daddy! There’s an Avenger in the yard!” she sped off towards a shed, where there was a light on inside. Loki’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Whatever outcome he was expecting, this was by far the worst.

“I’m not- fuck.”

He shoved the dagger away and out of sight and stomped towards the shed, fuming with annoyance. He was about to go off at the man for letting his daughter talk to random strangers and how he certainly was not an Avenger, but the man in question had a large saw in hand and about 200 pounds of muscle to carry, so he snapped his mouth shut.

“Oh, hello there,” he said, his daughter bouncing about the workshop. “What brings one of you all the way out here?”

“And where exactly is out here?” Loki asked.

“Canada! What, you superheroes never been to Canada before? Always hanging around New York, eh? Are you taking a trip or something?”

“No. I, uh, crash-landed here.”

“From space?” the girl piped up, gawking.

“Yes, from space,” Loki said through gritted teeth. “Fighting angry aliens.”

“I told you, Daddy! He’s a hero!”

“I bet you’re trying to find your way to America, then? Lord knows why, there’s all kinds of weird things happening around town nowadays.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the world’s gone! Poof! Just like that, some alien business I bet.”

“Are you going to save us from them?” his daughter asked again. Loki sighed.

“I’ll try my best. Now, can you please show me how to get to New York as fast as possible?”

The lumberjack’s husband took Loki and his daughter in his jeep and drove a merry long way to the nearest airport. On the way, the little girl asked him all sorts of questions about the Avengers, that he could only half-answer.

“Is it true Thor is super powerful?”

“Well. He's not that powerful. He just uses a hammer. Anyone with a hammer can use it as a weapon and suddenly be considered powerful.”

“I wish I had a super powerful hammer. Then my brothers would stop teasing me so much.”

“Hey,” her second father softly scolded.

“They’re mean!”

“Sibling feuds? I know the feeling,” Loki muttered.

“Do you have siblings, Mr. Avenger?”

“Sure do,” he smiled wryly. “Absolute bullies.”

“Me too!”

“Hey now, let our guest settle down a bit,” her dad said. “She gets a little excited around new people, so sorry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“The local airport’s just up here. It’ll take you to Detroit, and then you gotta get a connection flight to New York.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, genuinely.

“Why are you going to New York, Mr. Avenger?”

“To find my siblings,” Loki sighed. “At least, one of them should still be there.”

“But they’re mean to you?”

“Yeah,” Loki pondered as the car came to a stop. “But they’re family. I suppose.”

A few cunning lies and disguises later, Loki was suddenly landing in New York, amidst chaos. It had been a few days since he’d woken up, and apparently a few days since what they call the ‘Blip’. Humans clearly don’t like having their realities altered.

Your home was abandoned. Alfred didn't even greet Loki at the door, and no amount of pulling and prying opened it for him. The lights were off, and he feared the worst.

It wasn’t until he was in the streets and overhead muttering about some crazy goth lady terrorizing a nearby street that Loki thought he had finally found something.

He marched down the street until, to his surprise, he found Hela sitting hunched on the side walk, scowling and daring anyone to come close to her. She looked incredibly tired and disheveled, but her eyes were clear and angry, and recognized her idiot brother immediately.

“What the hell brought you back here?” Hela snarled.

“A toddler’s wisdom, if you’ll believe it,” Loki said, ignoring her glare as he sat down next to her.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Hela grumbled.

“Have you eaten?”

“Since when did you become Mother? I don't need your help.”

“Really?” Loki picked up a filthy scoop from a pile of three ice cream tubs that were fully devoured. He dangled it from his fingertips for a moment, pulling a face. “I think you do.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Glad to see you too, sister.”

Silence. Hela really did look like shit, Loki noted. Her hair was mussed, and there were rips and broken pieces in her armour, reminiscent of the time they’d met. She had to be weak not to bother fixing it with her powers, or was just too preoccupied to even think to fix it.

“Where’s Y/N?” Loki asked.

“Beats me.”

“Did you kill her?”

Hela’s eyes snapped to his, a sudden fire in them. “How dare you say that?”

“Well, her home is abandoned and no one answered the door, and you’re here cowering like a criminal. One makes conclusions.”

Something changed in her expression, and she turned her body to face him. “Abandoned?”

Loki frowned, “yes. Didn't you know?”

“No- I.. I’ve been here, the last time I saw her...”

Hela jumped to her feet, nearly kicking Loki in the process. “That bastard, he took her, didn’t he? Him and his awful, forsaken pieces of shit he calls friends.”

“Who?”

“Our darling brother,” she spat. “He came in and- and threatened me, and then took her from me.”

She paced in front of him, green fire trailing behind her heels, hot with anger. She had expected you to come find her, take her back to your home, make her feel safe. But when you never came she had assumed you had abandoned her. Now, knowing Thor had taken you instead, filled her with rage.

“Where does your little posse hang out, hm? Some supposed secret lair? A great big castle in the sky?”

Loki blinked at her, at her sudden outbursts, at the scared glances from passerbys, and didn’t know what to say.

“Fine then, I’ll get her myself,” she growled, turning away from him.

Loki nearly let her walk away, let her walk into whatever doom she was getting herself into, but with a groan and a mad realization, he knew she was the only one he could rely on right now.

“Wait,” he said, reluctantly, hurrying after her and grabbing her arm. “You can’t just go running off. Tell me what happened.”

Hela spat at his feet. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“You care about her, don't you? Y/N? Why else would you want to ‘rescue’ her from our brother?”

“Be silent,” she hissed.

“No, no, I’m right, aren’t I? You care for her, but you messed up, and now you have no one on your side. That’s why you left, and that’s why Thor had to take her.”

Hela yanked her arm away before Loki could see her face, but he knew what she felt; remorse, and loss.

“Tell me.”

And so, reluctantly, knowing she had no other choice, Hela sat him down, this time on an actual park bench rather than the ground. She told him what had happened, how her mistrust had turned to affection for you, and how Thanos had destroyed everything in the end, and how the Avengers had fought her out of fear.

“I know the feeling,” Loki agreed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching an elderly lady feed a bunch of pigeons as if nothing drastic had happened to the world the past few days.

“And now I don't know where she is, and she probably hates me, but who am I to blame her for that?”

“If I know anything about Y/N, is that she cares about everyone, but it takes a lot more to win her love. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just afraid. I mean, you did after all break her window and run off into nowhere.”

Hela stayed quiet, made an annoyed sound in her throat, and looked away.

“I’m starving, how did you get all that ice-cream? Why not an actual meal? Or were you just eating your feelings?”

“Y/N doesn’t like it when I kill people, so it was either massacre the street or steal their dairy products,” Hela bristled.

“Fair enough.”

“Now what, hm? You come out here, seemingly from the dead, chastise me for messing up, and now judge my diet? What do you really want, Loki?”

“Not sure, to be perfectly honest,” Loki said. “I thought I was dead, and then I wasn’t. Frankly, my priorities are shifting.”

“And what is your current priority?”

“Getting you back to Y/N so you stop moping around and fix this.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

Loki grinned, standing up. His armour shimmered and regained its full glamour; horned helmet and deep green cloak.

“Taking notes from me, are we?” Hela grumbled. Loki glared at her.

“I was wearing this look long before you got here. Now, get up, we’re going to infiltrate the Avengers and give you your romantic happily-ever-after so you stop being such a pain in everyone’s neck.”

“You think we’ll just be able to get in? You really are as mad as Father was.”

“I’ve broken into quite a few places over the years, I’ll have you know. I’m the God of Mischief after all.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Hela stood, her own armour strengthening again.

“Shut it.”

A/N: Loki is not dead! I know he’s technically alive in an alternate universe or whatever.. but I wanted the Odin Trio to be together sooooo here we are. Let me know what you think!!

taglist: @midnight-lestrange @cheerfullyvenomous @germansarechill@gaylorrds @amii-nyc @waitingfortheendtocome @novakitten0901@marvels-writings

#hela #hela x reader #hela/reader #hela x you #hela odinsdottir #thor #thor ragnarok #thor ragnarok fanfiction #loki #loki odinsin #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #cate blanchett #tom hiddleston #best siblings amirite #wlw #lgbt #merry writes

143 notes · View notes

fanfictasia · 4 years ago

Text

Angstpril Day 20

The Silent Treatment

“Another fine mess we’ve gotten into,” Anakin mutters under his breath once the dust and smoke have begun to settle, and he manages to stop coughing. He ignites his lightsaber to give them some light to see with. This entire mission was a trap from the beginning, and they walked right into it. The Separatist base on this planet was never abandoned. They didn’t have a chance to get any information. The second they’d reached the control room, the entire building had exploded, and now, they’re buried in the rubble, hoping they don’t get killed.

Ahsoka sighs next to him as she sits up. All three of them are mostly uninjured thankfully, but they’re still trapped in here. Frankly, Anakin thinks he would much rather face a furious, hungry Krayt dragon alone than be stuck in here with Obi-Wan. They’ve hardly spoken with one another since the Hardeen incident scarcely a month ago. Anakin is still hurt and angry and he doesn’t want to deal with his former master. So maybe he won’t. He can simply ignore his existence. It’s not as if they have any chance of digging themselves out of here anyhow.

“Well,” Ahsoka declares with far too much cheer in her voice – and Anakin notices that she’s also carefully avoiding looking at Obi-Wan – as she eyes the giant piece of durasteel which is inclined over them, giving them some protection from being crushed. “I guess we’ll have to wait until Rex and the boys can dig us out.”

Anakin huffs, tapping his comm. “Rex, come in,” he calls, but all he hears is static.

“We’re too far underground for them to hear,” Obi-Wan informs him. “Either that, or our comms are being jammed.” He swipes at a cut on his forehead. Anakin pretends not to hear or notice.

“Rex, come in,” he says again, knowing even as he does that Obi-Wan is probably right. “Oh, great, he’s not answering.”

No one says anything to that, and Anakin suddenly realizes how awkward the silence is. It never used to be this way, and he hates it. He hates that he can no longer trust Obi-Wan to protect him the way he used it. He hates that he can only rely on Ahsoka and Rex – and the 501st, of course – to watch his back. But Obi-Wan made his choice, and he didn’t choose Anakin.

“Do you think we could lift something with the Force to try and get out?” Ahsoka queries.

“No,” answers Obi-Wan before Anakin has a chance, “Everything is far too precarious right now. More than likely, it would bring everything crashing down on us, and we’d be buried.”

Anakin can feel the tightly wound coil of anger within him begin to burn brighter. He almost wants to intentionally use the Force, because Obi-Wan just advised against it, but he’s not willing to put Ahsoka at risk. “We could try,” he says instead, looking at his Padawan.

In the dim blue glow, he can see the uncertainty flicker across her face. Deliberately turning away from Obi-Wan, Anakin reaches out with the Force, cautiously testing the structure around them. “Anakin, don’t,” his former master warns.

Still, Anakin ignores him. He knows it’s unkind and petty, but he thinks that his resentment is justifiable. A dark part of him wants Obi-Wan to hurt as much as he’s hurting. It’s not Jedi-like, but he doesn’t know how to stop it. Maybe – Maybe if the situation was different, if he was feeling like this towards someone else, he would go to Obi-Wan for help. But there’s no use wishing. He moves to the pile of rubble closest him, prodding it carefully with his mechanical hand, lightsaber held in his flesh one.

Something shifts, and he jerks back as more debris tumbles down into their space. He flinches at the noise, ducking aside as a chuck of duracrete falls right where his head just was. Well, it’s no use getting them killed down here. With a groan of irritation, Anakin drops down on the dusty ground next to Ahsoka.

“You okay, Snips?”

She coughs and nods. “I’m fine, Master.” Her eyes flick towards Obi-Wan for a moment, but she quickly looks away again. Anakin can almost feel her uncertainty and anger through their bond, and it’s like an echo of his own.

“It won’t take Rex long to find us,” he assures her.

“I know,” she agrees, shifting to find a more comfortable position.

Anakin knows that it’s harsh to give Obi-Wan the silent treatment like this, but he doesn’t know what he’d even say to him. What is there to say anyways?

End Note: This is the beginning of a post-Deception AU one-shot (hopefully). :)

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #post deception arc #anakin #ahsoka #obi wan kenobi #anakin and obi wan #anakin and ahsoka #anakin angst #anakin needs a hug #angstpril2021 #day twenty #the silent treatment

30 notes · View notes

kgraces · 4 years ago

Text

Atlas

@badthingshappenbingo

Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: Buried in Rubble

For @ithilgalad75

Read it on Ao3 here!

Jason is practically a deadweight against Dick’s side, arm slung around his shoulder. Of course things had gone sideways during a routine case. Of course Joker had decided to show up. Dick had gotten caught up in fighting off the hordes of arms dealers while Jason took on his worst nightmare by himself. Jason is more than capable of keeping himself safe, but the Joker is his greatest weakness, and the worst part is that Joker knows it.

It hadn’t been a problem until the monster brought out the crowbar.

Jason had clung to his fury, beating past the panic underneath his skin to shoot Joker's kneecaps out and get the hell out of there with Dick in tow, but he hadn't gotten away unscathed. He's definitely got a few cracked ribs, and one shoulder took a heavy hit with the crowbar. His left ankle got completely shattered, too. Dick helps his brother limp along, cursing the damned clown under his breath as they go.

They're making their way to one of the lesser used entrances to the Cave, but even though it's narrow, which won't do Jason's claustrophobia any favors, it's the closest way home. Dick just needs to get them somewhere safe.

The tunnel’s ceiling is low—walls cramped and dark. Dick isn’t sure this passage has ever been used before now. Jason slumps a little more against him, and Dick casts an uneasy glance at his little brother, taking a moment to stop and run his fingers through the messy curls. Jason leans into the touch, but he doesn’t speak.

“C’mon Little Wing,” Dick murmurs. “Almost home.”

They manage to walk a few more feet before the ground starts to rumble beneath their feet. Dick’s hold on his brother tightens for a moment before he tumbles over, losing his balance as the earth underneath roils dizzyingly. Earthquakes aren’t uncommon in Gotham, but this one is stronger than the last few minor ones they’ve had. Both boys tumble to the ground, and for a long moment the only sound is the rumbling all around them.

Then, a loud crack slices through the air, and the ceiling crumples on top of them. The only reaction Dick has time for is a wordless shout before the rubble falls, a cloud of debris obscuring his vision for several painstaking moments. Dick coughs, trying to breathe around the pulverized rock as the cloud of dust begins to dissipate. Somehow, he’s escaped without injury, lying a few feet away from the pile of stones blocking the tunnel.

“Jay?” He croaks, voice tightly controlled to conceal his worry. He hears a pained sound and levers himself up onto his elbows, scanning the ground for any sign of his brother.

There.

A tuft of black hair—white streak grey with dust—is barely visible underneath the rubble. Dick’s heart leaps to his throat. His little brother is stuck. Buried under rubble after facing a beatdown from the Joker. His next breath shudders on the exhale.

“Jay, I’m right here,” Dick calls softly. “I’m here, and we’re going to get you out of there, alright?”

A sniffle, a sob, and Dick feels like his chest is being torn open. He wants to scream, to cry with Jason, but he can’t. He has to be the calm one, here, because if he lets himself get swept up in the fear and worry, he won’t be of any use to his brother. Jason is more important right now.

He shuffles closer, studying the stone crushing his brother’s prone form. He reaches out and combs a hand through Jason’s hair, waiting patiently until green eyes meet blue. Dick offers him a small smile, relieved to see him at least semi-coherent.

“Dick?” Jason murmurs, voice rough from smoking and the poor air quality. “This...this isn’t real. I’m dreaming you came to save me.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Dick says tremulously. He smoothes the hair back from Jason’s face, smile turning sad. “I wasn’t there the first time, but I’m here for you now.” He starts to prod carefully at the rubble trapping his brother’s torso and legs. “We might need to call B over.” He says with a hum. “I’m going to start to dig you out while he’s on his way, alright?” He activates his emergency beacon, and at Jason’s nod, he starts to move some of the rock as delicately as he can.

Jason’s still crying, tears dripping from his face onto the cave floor beneath him, and Dick starts to hum an old Romani lullaby he remembers his mother singing to him, hoping to calm him down. He’s always found noise more comforting than silence, and he knows Jason can’t begin to believe he’s alone right now. Eventually, Jason speaks up.

“I never wanted to go through this again,” he croaks. “The warehouse explosion hurt, Dick. Everything was hurting, and it burned. There was all this rubble, and warped, super-heated metal landed on me. I felt it before I finally died, and it was awful. Waking up in my coffin and digging my way out was worse.” He takes in a shaky breath. “God, I hate small spaces.” Dick hums again, passing a hand through his little brother’s hair again. Smiling sadly as Jason leans into the touch, almost desperately seeking out the comfort.

“It happened to me once, too,” Dick says. “Getting buried alive, I mean.” Jason makes a soft, inquisitive noise, and Dick lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Yeah, it wasn’t fun for me, either.” He shifts another rock, eyeing the largest piece of rubble pinning Jason to the ground. “But guess what, Little Wing? I got out, and you did too. This time won’t be any different.”

His words and tone are soothing, but Dick’s heart is racing with the fluttery energy of panic. He hates reminding himself of that time, when he’d been attacked, knocked unconscious, and placed in a coffin—left to die. He pushes those memories aside. Jason needs him, and he can’t break down yet. Later, maybe, when they’re both safe, and Dick is alone in his room. He falls back into his usual role—big brother, caretaker, protector.

“You’re okay, Jay. We’re going to get you out of here as soon as B gets here, and then maybe we can get Alf to make you some hot chocolate. How does that sound?” He keeps working to distract his brother until he hears footsteps running toward them, echoing across the cave walls. “Hear that, Little Wing? The cavalry's here. You’ll be free in no time, alright?”

He’s freed one of Jason’s hands now, and he reaches out to give it a gentle squeeze. Jason’s fingers twitch and curl around his, and Dick’s strained smile grows a little more genuine. He’ll be okay. Bruce kneels at Dick’s side, clapping a hand to his shoulder in a brief display of support before he moves to examine the rock keeping Jason in place.

“Keep him calm,” Bruce murmurs, and Dick nods. He’s the eldest, the emotional support for his brothers. It’s a role he’s taken up many times, no matter the toll on his own heart.

“Jay, can you look at me please?” Dick asks, smiling when they make eye contact. “Hi there, Little Wing. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Ethiopia,” is the choked reply. Dick sighs and runs a thumb under Jason’s eye, wiping away a few stray tears.

“You’re not there, Jay. You’re in the Cave with me and B. You’re safe, and you won’t be stuck for much longer, okay?” He talks in low, hushed tones, doing his best to soothe the sharp edges of his little brother’s worry. His own chest feels tight, like he’s the one being crushed, but he ignores it in favor of taking care of Jason.

Finally, finally, Bruce manages to get Jason free. He and Dick carry him over to the medbay, where Alfred is already waiting for them. Bruce and Dick get shooed away, and once he’s showered and changed into civvies, Dick can safely sequester himself in his room and let himself break down. He’s held it off for long enough. He makes it to his bedroom without incident, a small mercy.

The door shuts behind him, and Dick slides to the floor, resting his head against his knees. He’s exhausted—emotionally drained from staying strong for his brother. The panic he’s been keeping at bay surges forward, clutching at his lungs until he can’t breathe around it.

Jason is safe. He’s alive, and he’s going to be okay. The nightmare is over, and Dick can just ride out the adrenaline crash by himself. He’s going to be okay, too. Eventually.

It could be minutes or hours later when someone knocks on his door. Dick mumbles out his permission to come in, shuffling to the side so he isn’t blocking the entrance. To his surprise, Jason hobbles into the room. There’s a cast on one arm, and he’s moving stiffly, but he’s in one piece, and that’s enough to send relief flooding through Dick’s veins. Logically, he’d known his brother was okay, but seeing it with his own eyes makes it feel far more real.

“Hey Big Wing,” Jason says softly. The room is dark, shadows broken up by the thin moonlight filtering in through the curtains. Jason slumps onto the floor next to him. “You okay?”

“Am I okay?” Dick asks, chuckling a little. “I should be asking you that.” He smiles at his little brother and tries to put some cheer into his words. “I’m fine, Jay.”

“You’re full of shit, but that’s okay,” Jason replies. Dick lets himself rest his head against Jason’s shoulder. “Thanks for being there,” he says.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Dick admits. “I know how it feels to be trapped like that, and I know I don’t have the same traumas you do, but it sucks going through that kind of thing alone—reliving it and all.”

“You’re too selfless for your own good sometimes,” Jason says. “It’s okay to not always be okay. You know that, right?”

Dick sighs, sniffling a little. Jason wraps his uninjured arm around Dick’s shoulders, and Dick leans against him, mindful of his injuries.

“I’ve always had to be the strong one,” he says, choking on the words. “It’s my job to be there for my little siblings.”

“Not if it hurts you in the process,” Jason says evenly. He mirrors Dick’s prior actions and runs his fingers through Dick’s hair. It’s soothing, a balm to his frayed nerves. “We care about you as much as you care about us, Dickie. You don’t have to carry that burden all alone.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” Dick insists.

“Tough shit,” Jason retorts. His tone is sharp, but the hand in his hair is unfailingly gentle. “It’s okay, Dick. You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

Dick sighs again, tears sliding down the planes of his cheeks. The day’s events and their consequential emotions weigh heavily on his shoulders, as they often do when his family is hurt or in danger. But for right now, everyone is safe. Jason is here, by his side, and his brother isn’t going to let him collapse under the weight of his own heart.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Dick says, after a long moment of quiet.

“I’m glad I had you there to make sure I was okay,” Jason replies.

“Always, Little Wing. I promise. I’m not going to fail you again.”

It’s a heavy burden to bear, but it’s worth it, Dick thinks, if it leaves him with his little brother at his side, safe and steadfast. And really, that’s all he wants: his family safe and happy. Contentment curls in his chest, a warmth to chase away the cold fear he’d been feeling since the tunnel collapsed. He’s safe, and he’s happy, and that’s more than enough for him.

#bad things happen bingo #prompt: buried in rubble #my writing #batfam #dc #nightwing #red hood #jason todd #dick grayson #batman #bruce wayne

19 notes · View notes

theunknowncryptid · 5 years ago

Text

5. Night One

Masterlist

Namjoon x Y/n

After her brother makes a deal, Y/n is forced to spend seven nights with the leader of the Kim crime family, Kim Namjoon.

Taglist: @amordesiempre01 @jiminals @unadulteratedlyunique @parkmaeri @bbyjoonies @lilacsmoon @s0228 @kelitt @xxxanimangxxx @chogiyeol-utopia @atomickokorox @irenebutfancier

~ ~ ~

The drive was longer than she expected. Y/n figured the quiet man at the wheel would drive her ten minutes across town, if that, but before she realized the skyscrapers turned to oak trees and all she could see were country fields.

“Where are we going?” She asked. The man glanced back at her in the rear-view mirror. He looked like he could be related to the Kim’s.

“To the private estate. Out of town.” His voice was brighter and kinder than Y/n expected. Her stomach churned. What was Kim Namjoon going to do to her that required miles of privacy.

It was a full hour before the driver turned off of the main road and onto a dirt path. Rust colored debris flew into the air around the SUV. A grove of trees opened around the road and gave way to, what Y/n assumed was, the Kim Estate.

“Whoa,” The house in the clearing looked like something out of Clue. It was old and Victorian, built with red brick. It was massive. Large enough for twenty people to live comfortably.

The SUV parked beside the front of the house. The glass of the door and the windows, yellow light illuminated the grass. The driver stepped out and walked around to open Y/n’s door.

“You can follow me.” He said as Y/n stepped down. Until then, she hadn’t realized how young he was. Maybe only a few years older than she was.

He led her into the manor. The inside was just as grand. Decadent rugs covered dark hardwood. It was difficult to place the wall color because of the hundreds of decorations. There were paintings, photographs, bookcases and sculptures covering every available piece of wallpaper. The only light in the main entry was an overhead chandelier. Thousands of diamonds, strung together, cast a warm glow. Stairs lined the left wall. Directly across the room, an archway led to some sort of living room, but it was too dim to see. Instead of taking her up the stairs or through the arch, the man turned to the right wall and knocked on large double doors.

He didn’t wait for a summons. The man opened the door and offered for Y/n to walk ahead. Fear raided her body, but she walked through the doors.

The room was warm. A fire burned in it’s pit against the East wall, filling the space with the sound and smell of a campfire. A beautiful desk was cluttered with papers, files, pens, books and nicknacks. Again, Y/n couldn’t tell what color the walls were. Hundreds of books lined the wall shelves. They were obviously worn and read. Blue velvet chairs sat facing the desk and a large window. The room would almost be cozy, if it weren’t for the tall man standing stiff in front of the fireplace.

The driver shut the door behind him. It slammed shut and made her flinch. He cleared his throat.

“Your guest is here.” The man at the fireplace turned to look. Y/n struggled to maintain a bored expression. She had heard about Kim Namjoon before. Serious, Intelligent, Dangerous. He was someone to fear. He had to be, being the head of the Kim Crime Family. But simple descriptions didn’t prepare Y/n for the man in front of her. He was incredibly handsome. Dark hair fell over his eyes. His skin was tanned and, by his collar, Y/n could see a thin, white scar leading up his neck. He was dressed in a dark grey suit as if he had just come from a business meeting. His tie was loose around his neck and his hands were shoved in his pockets, making him seem more casual than the situation called for. His features were soft, but his eyes were full of judgment and annoyance. He looked Y/n up and down.

“You’re late.” His low voice deadpanned.

“Blame your driver.” Her voice came much calmer than she felt. His eyes flickered to the man that stood behind her.

“That will be all, Jimin.” He said. The air shifted and the sound of the office door shutting echoed. Y/n clenched her jaw. She didn’t want to be left alone with this man. She didn’t want to be here at all.

“You must love your brother very much to come here willingly.” He didn’t move at all. He just stood and stared at Y/n with a blank face.

“Less and less each day.” She answered, dryly. The corners of his lips twitched up. The fire roaring behind left him as little more than a silhouette.

“You’re aware of the arrangement we made?” He walked to the desk and picked up a half-drunk glass of scotch.

“Obviously.” Y/n spat out. Anger flared in her.

“And yet, you still came?” He raised his brow at her.

“What choice did I have?” She glared. Kim Namjoon knew very well that her brother's life hung in the balance. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a swig of the alcohol.

“Your brother had a choice.”

“You knew when you gave the loan that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to pay his debt.” Y/n sneered. Over the last few days, with the help of Jin, she had come to that conclusion. It was a known fact that the Kim’s kept tabs on the Min’s, and vice-versa. Kim Namjoon knew that Jungkook had been cut off from the banks and from the Min’s. Jungkook was broke and addicted to cards. Kim also knew his money would not be repaid. He wasn’t after a simple business transaction. He was after her.

The man grinned. “You’re smart.”

“Why?” She demanded. Her hands fisted at her sides.

“Why not?” He tilted his head. Y/n continued to glare and he sighed. “A chance to have a beautiful woman in my bed. And to watch Min Yoongi squirm.”

“Why would Min Yoongi Squirm?” She feigned. The annoyance returned to his face.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n.” The sound of her name coming from his lips made her skin crawl. “You think Yoongi won’t notice one of his closest friends is missing for a week?”

He had her there, but she couldn’t let him know that. “I think you overestimate my worth.”

“No. But, good try.” He smirked. With an air of playfulness on his face he looked even more handsome. His eyes travelled over her body, taking stock. He stepped closer to her and she jumped back in alarm.

“What are you doing?” She asked. She cursed her wavering voice.

“Claiming my debt.” Kim Namjoon stalked toward her again. Her lips trembled. With her back pressed to the door, Y/n came chest-to-chest with the man.

“You’re evil.” She glared. Again, he smirked.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. You’re a young woman who spends most of her time in a bar.” His hand reached up and gently placed a lock of hair behind her ear. She flinched away. “I can’t be the worst to spend some time between your legs.”

Her mouth dropped in shock and fury crashed inside her.

“You would be the first!” A furious blush covered her cheeks. For the first time that night, she could see a chink in his armor. It made her happy. His eyebrows raised and confusion contorted his features.

“You’re a virgin?”

“Surprise.” Y/n smirked. Pressed this close together she could feel his breath dusting her face. His hands were pressed to the door beside her, caging her in. His face was unreadable. She couldn’t tell if he was about to kick her out or bring her to him. Surprisingly, he pushed away from the door and walked back to his abandoned drink.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?” She paled. Her remaining virginity was her one and only playing card.

“Nope.” He said. His bored confidence was firmly back in place. “Some would say it makes you even more desirable.”

Y/n scowled. “Then what are you waiting for? Get it over with.”

He smiled at her coldly. “I haven’t had my dinner yet.” He turned back to the fireplace, but spoke over his shoulder. “Will you join me?”

“I’m not hungry.” She stared at him as if he’d just told her he had ridden a seahorse here.

“Pity, you’ll need your strength later.”

Horror filled her features as, on cue, the man named Jimin entered the office.

“Show Ms. Y/l/n to the bedroom, please, Jimin.” Kim demanded. Without a word, both left into the cold of the house.

Kim Namjoon only wished he could see Y/n’s face when she realized her bedroom doubled as his.

~ ~ ~

The room was huge. Her entire apartment could fit inside. The walls were a bordered forest green with dark hardwood floors. A leather loveseat and a matching chair faced a flat-screen TV. A large, white rug covered the sitting area, bringing light to the dark room. A large mirror covered the interior wall. The far wall had two black doors, one leading to the ridiculously luxurious bathroom, one leading to a closet full of suits, shoes, and surprisingly, hoodies, t-shirts, and basketball shorts. The room smelled like the cologne from earlier. Y/n frowned at that. She felt surrounded by Kim Namjoon. The room was freezing, but the thought of climbing into the ginormous bed made her want to cry. The duvet was black with matching silk sheets. It must have been a king size, but it was hard to tell in the large space. Eventually, she caved and climbed in. With the sheets pulled up to her chin in the dark room, Y/n felt like she was waiting for a death sentence.

Fuck Jungkook, fuck gambling, and fuck Kim Namjoon. Not literally.

At the sound of the door opening, she shut her eyes, pretending to be asleep. Footsteps sounded across the room to the closet. Y/n cracked open one eye. The closet light illuminated Kim Namjoon's silhouette. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it with the rest of the suits. His back was turned to the bed.

“I know you’re awake.” His voice broke the silence. Grumbling, Y/n sat up. She didn’t bother to ask how he’d seen through her. He turned to look at her. He looked wearier than he has a couple hours ago. His hair was ruffled and the top button of his shirt was undone. He walked to the dresser and picked up a plate he must have brought with him. She flinched as he came nearer.

“Eat.” He demanded. The plate he offered had crackers, cheese, and grapes. Cautiously, Y/n took a couple crackers. She nibbled on them, but kept her tight grip on the sheets. Kim wandered away and leaned against the bed post. A ghost of a smile played around his mouth. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, casually. When Y/n finished the crackers he held out the plate again. Without thinking, she took a few grapes. She watched him carefully.

“You’re different than I thought you would be.”

“I can imagine.” He directed his gaze to the window overlooking a garden of wildflowers.

“Why are we here?” She asked.

“In this house?” He raised an eyebrow at her. As beautiful as it was, Y/n got the idea the house stood unoccupied most of the time. “I promised your brother no one would know about our transaction.”

Y/n rolled a grape in her fingers. “Not because you evil plans work better in the country?”

“Well, that too.” Y/n suppressed a smile, then cringed at herself. There should be nothing enjoyable about her situation. Kim Namjoon planned to use her as payment and if mental or physical damage came with that, so be it. Anger flared in her.

“Stop playing with me!” She glared. Y/n overdramatically threw the covers off herself. She threw herself back onto the sheets. “Get it over with!”

Silence filled the room again.

“Dear lord, Y/n, you desperately need some new pajamas.”

“What’s wrong with them?” She demanded. She looked down at the clothing. An old, stained Dartmouth t-shirt and baggy sweatpants.

“Did you steal them off a homeless man?” He mocked.

“What did you expect me to wear? Lingerie?” She snarled. His eyes crawled over her intensely and she knew he was imagining her in just that. Her skin burned from the observation. It reminded her just how horrible and disgusting the man in front of her really was.

“Take it off.” He said gently. Shit.

It was time. She could do this. Who cares if she wasn’t a virgin anymore.

Slowly, she lifted the ratty shirt over her head and threw it on the floor. Then, she lifted her hips and slid off the sweatpants. Goosebumps formed on her bare skin. She was left in just white panties. She refused to meet his gaze. In the mirror on the wall, Y/n saw her exposed body with Kim Namjoon looming over her.

The room stayed silent until she couldn’t take it anymore. All he did was stand there, staring at her with pure hunger in his eyes. A muscle jerked in his cheek and his fists clenched at his sides as his investigation paused at her breasts. Her face burned in embarrassment.

He stepped closer and slid his hand across her raised leg. The feeling of his hand on her made her want to pull away and hide. Every nerve in her body twisted and made her gasp.

“You’re beautiful,” He said in a hoarse voice.

“Do it.” Y/n begged. “Please, just do it.”

The minutes stretched forever before he moved again. Slowly, his face lowered to hers. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, then he turned his head and pressed his lips to her cheek. It only lasted a moment and then he pulled back, lifted the covers back over her and walked to the door.

“What-”

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I guess I’m not interested in martyrs tonight.”

188 notes · View notes

weaselle · 4 years ago

Text

Sims 4 Build

OK. So. I started a new play through a while back and I wanted my sims to go out to eat and if you aren’t familiar with the Sims there are only bar/lounges and of course that ridiculous place in the faux Hollywood world. So I went to the Gallery and downloaded a couple of restaurants and...

Because I have worked for 25 years in the F&B service industry, I immediately became salty about a number of things.

And that’s why I built this restaurant, full of all the things people leave out of their restaurant builds.

See, it’s not a house. Stop building house shaped restaurants. And, nobody includes parking lots, but since I did, I made sure the handicap spots are the two closest to an entrance and have a loading zone adjacent.

I’m detail oriented in my sims builds.

If you’ve worked in restaurants, you’ll identify with all the commonalities I’ve found missing in most gallery builds that I’ve applied to this restaurant, even if you don’t play Sims.

If you haven’t worked in restaurants but you do build them in Sims 4, you could view this as a tutorial

FOH - The Floor

First of all, idk what people are looking at when they go out to eat, but evidently it isn’t the seating arrangements -- I kept finding restaurant after restaurant that seemed to have no ideal how to set up a dining area with tables. Like, the tables would be so crammed together the sims couldn’t actually walk between them, or they’d have a white cloth establishment with almost all 6 and/or 8 tops (a six-top is a table with six chairs) and almost no 2 or 4 tops; sometimes there would be like, mostly 10 or 12 tops!

Or they’d put chairs on every side of every table even though this makes everything cramped, or they’d jigsaw a bunch of different table sizes into a giant crowded square filling most of the restaurant. But mostly I saw people... doing all of these things at once they were all just doing all of this all the time omg.

(Though I did see a couple builds where they had a huuge restaurant and then like, five small tables) Nobody seemed to know how many people a space should comfortably seat, or how many tables/seats a restaurant might need, or how to set them up

look

some things to notice:

This seats 46. That’s good. When we move into the bar the bar tables and seating at the bar are going to bring it up to 63. Depending on your restaurant you’ll usually have between 40 and 80 seats, so I’m hitting my target perfectly.

more than half the tables are 2 tops, but more than half the chairs are at larger tables; this isn’t like, a rule, but does mean there is probably close to the right mix of table sizes, especially for a white table cloth kinda place. There are only two “large” tables, which is about right.

The layout is easy to comprehend and section out. This floor easily lends itself to a two-server or four-server shift, and three servers isn’t hard to figure out. Like, I know exactly which tables each server would have as a four-server shift transitioned down to the closer over the evening.

It’s nearly symmetrical but not quite 100% which is what you usually see in a restaurant.

The lights are not placed randomly. You might think this doesn’t need to be pointed out. You’d be surprised.

There is plenty of room to move between the tables and have guests feel like they have their own area, with like, lanes to walk down, but there is no wasted space. It’s very full, but not at all crowded.

There’s a defined entrance, with a waiting area. The game tells you that you have to include this host station

which, yeah, some places just have a simple podium, but I built it out to help define the entrance, which has a menu stand and some seating for a wait list and the host stand has clutter like extra table tent menus and a condiment caddy.

Similarly, the game says you need this server station

but I turned it into this

Now THAT’s a server station, with a drinks fridge, extra menus, plates, condiment shelves, and a coffee pot, which is orange for decaf because theres a regular coffee station that includes an espresso machine behind the bar. See?

Lastly, you can’t really tell from the pics so far, but the dining room and bar seating is only about half of the total space in the building, which is about right.

Here’s the bar tops

and the bar, which has a pass window right to the kitchen line, under the TV (don’t worry, there’s a proper pass for the servers and an expeditor through that door to the right)

But once I addressed these issues with the Front of House, I realized: there is so much more missing from most restaurants on the gallery.

Like the back office.

BOH - Office

I didn’t find a single restaurant on the gallery that included one, but just about every restaurant has a shitty little back office crammed into what should be, like, a small closet. They all tend to look a little something like this

I had to hunt through debug for most of this clutter - it’s hard to tell in this pic, but that’s a couple stacks of money just sitting out on the desk to the right of the computer. That’s, shall we say, not super unusual to see in one of these crappy little paperwork prisons. And of course the mess of files and mail and shit.

You know what else every restaurant has but I never saw in any on the gallery?

Dish Pit

The game is not set up to allow you to make a proper dish pit. Like, there isn’t an industrial dishwasher or anything. Bu tI made one anyway. From the floor sinks, to the dish racks, to the horrible, heavy-ass red rubber mat that’s such a pain to clean at the end of the shift, I think you’ll recognize this room right away

I really had to fiddle to get this one -- those dish racks? they’re actually overlapped home counter racks that look like this

they were super hard to line up right. The “floor sinks” are actually a drain that’s supposed to go on the bottom of a pool, the dishwasher is actually three floor models raised to the right hight and overlapped facing different directions, and I added the little drain panels on either side by shrinking and raising floor vents to the height of the counters, which are actually overlapping tables. The floor I lucked out on, the Sims 4 has a tile floor pattern that comes in both grungy and clean, so I placed the clean ones on the outside edge of the dish pit floor in half-tiles along an irregular pattern with the edges matched to the lines of grout and added a couple of my own floor smudges so there wouldn’t be a straight line of dirty versus clean tile. Then I put some water stains over the whole thing to mask it better, overlapping some of the water stains to create the illusion of a flow of water going down the floor drain.

Speaking of the dish pit, most restaurants have this cousin to the dish pit, that I don’t know what to call except maybe a

Mop Closet

The Sims doesn’t have one of the yellow industrial mop buckets with the squeezy thing attachment, but I did pretty good here. Wish I could have erased the shower head, but I for sure needed the wall spigot handles and the hose. Managed to size up a bucket with water to the right dimensions and trick the game into letting me stick in a mop that’s supposed to hang on a wall. Added some cleaning supplies and stuff to the shelves.

Speaking of shelves, nobody ever includes dry storage when they do a Sims 4 restaurant. You know, with the empty beer kegs and those metal rack shelves full of, like, rows of little bottles and the restock items like six packs of soda and sacks of dry ingredients and way up on the top is the shit that never ever gets used but somehow you have to get up there every other week anyway?

See that door, the one with a light over it and a light next to it and a little temperature gauge? Yeah, you know what else I never see in gallery restaurants builds?

Walk In

this was a pain, not only did I have to meticulously place every bottle on top of that fridge unit, but those kegs are actually tiny soda cans with no labels that I had to pull out of the vast un-tagged and un organized debug menu. I don’t even think they got placed by the devs anywhere in game, I think they are some kind of frame that gets a label/skin before it gets placed, usually. And see that fan up top in the middle of the wall? That’s actually two separate pieces of nonsense -- like, the center part isn’t a fan at all, its a stone wall decoration. But the design looks like a fan, so I shrank it and shoved it most of the way back into the wall til it was nearly flat and found that other thing that had a circle the right size in the middle. and viola. Oh, and it and those other vents next to it don’t just go to nothing, oh no, they match up perfectly on the outside to these

Okay, now, everybody building restaurants in the Sims DOES include a

Kitchen

And they often do a fine job, so I’m not going to spend much time here, but they do tend to skimp on prep space

(hey, see those shelves on the top right? Those are shelves full of dishes. I never see shelves full of dishes in gallery restaurant builds, but like, you need a bunch of shelves full of dishes. And off in the corner to the far left of the top wall? Prep sink tucked away back there.)

Dude, let me just say... that prep counter?I placed every vegetable on that counter individually, AND I had to trick the game into letting me put more than the like, three items each counter space usually has slots for. What a pain. Worth it tho. It’s hard to tell, but there’s a knife next to the cutting board.

And lastly, no restaurant would be complete without

“out back”

okay this post is long enough, but I just want to point out the stack of empty pallets, the discolored liquid and debris under the dumpsters along with a rat trap, and a little smoke break area with shitty chairs and a garbage table with some kind of bowl or something being used as an ashtray.

There’s more to this restaurant, employee lockers, bathrooms, etc, but this post is long enough, and I covered the most important stuff.

In conclusion, I’m getting pretty good at sims builds, and other builders should ask me for tips on restaurant builds or read this post, because I swear none of them have ever worked in food service

#sims #sims 4 #restaurants #sims build #sims 4 build #there's a huge wildfire about ten miles from me and headed this way #so guess how I'm staying distracted #when i say ten miles away i mean the fire is 48 square miles in size and one edge of it is maybe 15 miles from me #and it's burning another square mile every two minutes #so i've got my bounce bag packed and now i am Thinking About Other Things #i should be fine - there was a somewhat smaller but still pretty big fire between me and this fire last month so theres a decent fire break

66 notes · View notes

thespianbooks · 4 years ago

Text

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 9//

(Chapter one) (Chapter two) (Chapter three) (Chapter four) (Chapter five) (Chapter six) (Chapter seven) (Chapter eight) (Chapter nine) (Chapter ten)

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd. Let me know if you would like to be added!)

A week was all Azriel needed to gather the information we hoped wasn’t true. However, after the first few days, the spymaster realized he would have to gather intel on those closest to Keir without arousing suspicion. When low-level sentries turned up without any knowledge, Azriel moved onto interrogating the stewards' personal army of Darkbringers. Together, he, Cassian and Rhys were able to interrogate the captain of Keir’s army—Rhys wiping his memory clean after every session. He hated to do it, but after gathering details of Keir’s plan and his alliance with Kallon, he knew it was necessary.

There was indeed a coup rising against the Court of Dreams.

We filled Mor and Amren in immediately after Azriel broke the news to us, but decided it was best to leave my sisters unaware—for now. Nesta was finally in a good, albeit still cold, place after the war that took place a decade ago and Elain was also finally returning to her normal self; who she used to be before being forcefully made. My sisters were healing, and the last thing I wanted was to reopen their old wounds by revealing that their lives were once again at risk. Nesta, as observant as ever, knew something was amiss but thankfully didn’t press for any information. For now, and until we had a set plan, we could leave them in the dark.

I did my best to hide my worries in front of them, instead allowing Elain to fuss over me and the baby while Rhys and his brothers gathered intel. With all the anxiety of the coup keeping me on edge, I hardly noticed that my previous symptoms weren’t affecting me as they had before. Granted, I was still so fatigued that I slept in until noon and my nausea still plagued me from time to time; at least I was finally starting to feel some relief, which reassured everyone—especially Elain. Now that I was feeling better, she began begging to help plan the nursery. Years ago, before the completion of the construction on the estate, she asked what we should do for the room attached to mine and Rhys’s suite. I originally wanted that room to be our nursery, but at the time I decided to make it into a sitting room. Knowing that an empty nursery sat just beyond the double-doors in my suite was too painful at the time. So, in the meantime, I wanted to make some kind of use for it; despite Rhys and I hardly ever even using it anyway.

After telling Elain where I wanted the nursery, she focused all of her energy into creating the perfect space for the baby. While the Illyrians focused on gathering the information from the Court of Nightmares, I did my best to shift my attention back onto my pregnancy. At first, I went with Rhys to Hewn City to be present for the interrogations with the captain of the Darkbringers, but we hadn’t taken into account the effect winnowing would have on me during my condition. With my powers being so drained, I couldn’t do it myself, so Rhys had winnowed us in. Upon arrival, I had nearly fainted in my mates’ arms. Alarmed, he winnowed us back to Velaris, causing me to actually faint. Once I regained consciousness, a guilt-ridden Madja was there and informed us of that unfortunate side-effect she forgot to mention at our previous appointments. In her defense, said side-effect didn’t usually develop until later in pregnancy, but thanks to my tendency towards extreme fatigue, it developed sooner. There was no explanation as to why winnowing was so taxing on a pregnant female, but Madja theorized that whatever magic it originated from was the culprit.

We decided then that he would go with Cassian to Azriel’s interrogations of the Captain, and once they had the information we needed, we would schedule our official visit to Hewn City. Fortunately, Madja explained that as long as I gave myself at least an hour rest between winnowing—including some recovery time after the initial trip, that it would be safe. A part of me was grateful that I didn’t have to be there for the interrogations, because after every session Rhys returned physically and mentally drained. Even as he recounted every detail to me, I couldn’t imagine the burden and the guilt weighing on his shoulders. The Night Court was his home for centuries; he made many painful sacrifices for the sake of his people. While he did his best to separate himself from the Hewn City, they were still his people; still his court and his ancestors' court. As High Lady for over a decade, it hurt deeply to imagine the threat of a civil war, especially for the innocents here in Velaris. As High Lord for as long as Rhysand was, I knew the pain was worse for him.

“You don’t have to do this every night you know,” Rhys drawled quietly from his place in the tub, summoning me back from my thoughts.

He was leaning on the edge with his chin resting over his crossed arms while I gently scrubbed at his delicately powerful wings. I smiled at his comment, continuing to clean the dirt and debris off his wings. After the first few days of seeing how drained my mate was, I took it upon myself to spoil him with a hot bath—together, to unwind while I cleaned him.

“You won’t let me do anything else since I got pregnant, the least I can do is take care of you,” I replied, dabbing at the other wing with a soft washcloth.

“That’s precisely why. You’re pregnant, and it should be me cleaning you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me.

I rolled my eyes, “I’m not the one doing all the heavy lifting.”

“I beg to differ,” he said as he glanced at my belly, still a small swollen mound.

I tried not to smile. “Your son isn’t that heavy, yet. I’m growing a baby, but you’re,” I paused, not wanting to bring up the ugly business of the day during the time I dedicated just for us. “Doing everything else…”

He was quiet until I finished cleaning his wing and turned to face me before cupping my face in his. “You’re working just as hard as I am Feyre, on top of being pregnant,” he said.

I gripped his wrist lightly, “I know that, but just like you’re taking care of me, I want to take care of you too. This time is for me just as much as it is for you.”

His smile was crooked as he responded, “Fair enough.”

I returned his smile and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. We stayed silent for the duration for our bath, not wanting to disturb our peace, but as soon as we were back in our bedroom, I couldn’t resist bringing up our upcoming plans for our visit to the Court of Nightmares.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” I asked as I pulled out a light nightgown from my dresser.

Rhys sighed, “After lunch. Cassian and Az want to go over the reports and statements from Keir’s general. We’re trying to piece together a timeline, and Azriel will go alone to finalize details with him while we’re at court.”

I nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed after slipping on my nightgown. Now that we had most of the information we needed, tomorrow we would travel to the Hewn City and announce my pregnancy. This would be our way of reminding Keir who he served and would continue to serve. We’d solidify our reign by furthering Rhys’s lineage.

I watched as he dried himself off and changed into his own night clothes, a simple pair of black shorts, and smiled as I imagined what our son might look like at his father’s age. Would the image the Bone Carver gave me continue to evolve to resemble Rhys? Would he have some semblance of me as well? Regardless, I dreamed of him growing to look and act like his father. But the thought of my son one day being High Lord, of having to put on the same cruel façade as the rest of us, made my heart clench and Rhys noticed it in my face. He perched on the space in front of me and gingerly placed both hands on my ever-swelling stomach.

“We’ll teach him well. After all, you had a pretty good teacher, if I do say so myself,” he said with a smug grin.

I rolled my eyes, “Maybe he’ll inherit my humility, because you’re hopeless.”

Rhys threw his head back with a bark of laughter before taking hold of my face to capture my lips in a deep kiss. He held me there for a few seconds, resting his forehead against mine.

“We won’t expose him to the Court of Nightmares until he’s ready and comfortable with it. I won’t put any pressure on him, I promise,” Rhys reassured.

“I know you won’t,” I sighed. “I just...can’t picture that yet. I think.”

“Well we haven’t officially met him,” Rhys said with a smirk. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

I nodded and looked down at my stomach. “For now, I guess you have no choice but to be part of the act, but daddy will make it up to you,” I said with a smile and looked back up at Rhys, who had visibly stiffened at the new word I referred to him as.

He mouthed the word silently as I grinned and brought his hands back to my stomach, “That’s what he’s going to call you, you know.”

He nodded, matching my grin with a wicked one and wiggled his eyebrow, “I wouldn’t be opposed to you calling me that once in a while either.”

I laughed as I shoved him away, his laughter matching my own as he tackled me onto the bed.

Rhys and I stood alone at the gates outside the throne room in the Hewn City; Mor, Cassian, and Azriel already inside waiting for us at the base of the dais. They had gathered all the citizens of the city inside, on the order that their Lord and Lady were making a notable appearance today. I stared at the dark, cruel, scaled beasts carved on either pillar and ran my hands over the gentle swell of my belly. While getting ready this morning, Rhys pulled out a delicately midnight blue, floor-length, long sleeved gown fashioned of tiny sparkling crystals made to resemble lace. I nearly sobbed when my mate revealed that it was a maternity gown his mother made for me.

The impossibly soft fabric hugged my every curve, the patterned lace forming a deep ‘V’ shape over my breasts and opened in the back, allowing my tattoos to be on display. The sleeves capped at my wrists, the lace blending perfectly with the tattoos on both arms. More importantly, the gown hung over the prominence of my stomach; accentuating it enough to send our message without words. The High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court were expecting.

A dangerous announcement to make so early in my pregnancy, but a necessary one thanks to the current looming threat. While we initially feared it would enable Keir to push his and Kallon’s plans into motion sooner than we hoped, now we had our timeline and knew what to expect.

“Ready to be wicked?” Rhys purred as he rested a hand on the small of my back, jolting me from my thoughts.

Glancing again at the beautifully dark and brutal carved beasts on the gates, I nodded with a smirk and turned to him. “Let’s go.”

Both straightening to our full height, Rhys moved his hand to hold mine up as he escorted me into the throne room as the gates groaned open to reveal us to our court. The gathering crowd grew eerily quiet as Rhys and I ascended across the dark marble floor. Then the gasps came as they slowly, one by one, took notice of my stomach.

Though my shoulders were already squared, I tilted my chin up a little higher as the new weight of their observations fell over me. Over the decade I had gotten used to their stares, their murmurings, every time Rhys and I visited. This time was different. A pregnant female was rare and seeing as it had been centuries since a child was born into the ruling family of the Night Court, their gaze almost felt...scandalous. My façade remained as solid as ever as Rhys escorted me to our twin thrones, the crowd ceasing any whispers of my condition as we turned to face them. I sat first, but Rhys remained standing as his eyes met with Keir’s. The male stiffened the second he saw my belly and by the murderous look on Mor’s face, standing at the foot of the dais with the two Illyrians flanking her sides, he must have revealed his immediate disgust.

I could feel Rhys’s front cracking a bit, his dark powers slowly filling the room with shadows as he stared down the steward—who, thankfully, wasn’t sneering this time as he stared back.

“Bow,” was all Rhys said, struggling with the effort to reign in his overprotective instincts from misting Keir on the spot.

While the crowd moved immediately at his order, Keir did so reluctantly, Mor’s mother at his side and following his lead. I sent a gentle wave of my power down the bond in an effort to calm my mate. Don’t let him get to you.

He didn’t respond, instead tightening up his veneer, shadows dissipating, and sat in his throne before waving an idle hand to the court. “Rise,” he commanded.

The crowd moved together as one, and he waved a hand nonchalantly in dismissal; allowing them to return to their business. Keir dismissed his wife and remained across from us before clearing his throat. “I see congratulations are in order,” he commented, his sneer returning as his eyes shifted from our faces to my stomach.

I couldn’t help the protective hand I placed over it, wanting desperately to shield my child, but I instead moved my hand to the top—just below my bust line, emphasizing it more.

“Indeed, though you don’t actually mean it, do you?” Mor drawled, her voice and face fiercely calm.

Keir ignored his daughter and returned his gaze to Rhys, apparently choosing to outright ignore my presence as well, “I take it this means your lineage will pass onto the child?”

“Did you not expect my mate and I to produce any offspring? That I would simply pass my crown onto someone who wasn’t of my blood?” Rhys replied, keeping his stare dark.

Keir shifted on his feet, “I was always under the impression that a powerful High Lord such as yourself would choose not to procreate, why create any direct competition to your rule? Just take a look at the Autumn Court; so many sons all vying for the same throne by any means necessary, including murder.”

His words dripped with disdain, his insinuations mocking. “And yet you chose to try and secure an alliance with the court you warn us of now. From the look of it, you rather idolize the idea of a son overthrowing his father, or vice versa.” I replied, my tone as icy as my mask.

Keir’s shoulders stiffened at my words, his formidable gaze meeting mine. Through the bond, I could feel Rhys’s dark shadows creeping in the corners of the room. Mor and Cassian watched us, their stares deadly and ready to intervene. Azriel was already gone to attend to his mission while we remained.

The steward tilted his head forward in a slight bow, finally acknowledging me. “I would never presume such a thing, milady. As always, I am at your service,” he said, his voice tight.

It took all of my strength not to scoff at his words or snap his neck. Instead, I slowly stood from my throne, leaving my hand on the curved apex of my belly. “My son will inherit this very throne. And if neither I nor my mate grow weary of your existence by then, you will serve him as well.”

“I’m sure your son will rule just as sufficiently, my lady.” He bit back.

The aura in the room shifted as Rhys’s dark shadows were overpowered by my own. I blasted out dark talons of my power and sank them into Keir’s mind, painfully seizing him in place as I took a slow step onto the foot of the dais just a few feet away from Mor and Cassian, who now held their breaths as they watched me. Rhys remained in his throne, his own dark power emanating with mine as I felt a silent nod of approval down the bond.

My heart pounded in my chest from the effort of my display of power, and I felt my knees shake a bit as I continued staring at Keir with an icy smile. “My son will be more than sufficient; I promise you that. As you said, he's the son of a very powerful High Lord. I should also remind you of the power of your High Lady. With the combined powers of all the High Lords in Prythian, including your High Lord, just imagine what his powers would be like? Won’t that be a magnificent sight to behold?”

I tightened my grip on him, and he did his best not to cringe in pain as he managed to hiss, “Yes, milady.”

My power slipped from him immediately as I was unable to hold on, my forehead gleaming with sweat, and it took me a few silent deep breaths before I smiled cruelly. “That’s good to hear.”

Rhys was at my side in a second as my knees trembled again. The exertion it took to intimidate Keir was draining, much more than I had anticipated. I was grateful for my floor length gown hiding my trembling legs as Rhys perched his hand on the small of my back.

Are you okay?

Yes, I just need to sit down. I reassured.

We’re leaving now, don’t worry

Keir was catching his own breath as he stared us down. As much as I didn’t want to reveal any weakness, neither did he. After a minute, he straightened again and tilted his head towards Rhys in a bow. “Is that all you needed milord? Your visit was last minute, and I was in the midst of gathering your reports.”

Azriel had showed up only seconds prior to Keir speaking, giving a silent nod to me and Rhys, indicating he gathered the last of the intel we needed. Rhys waved an idle hand at Keir, “The High Lady and I wanted to share our news and be on our way. Go. Continue to serve me as you have,” he said as he began escorting me back towards the gated doors, Mor, Cassian, and Azriel trailing behind us.

We stopped before stepping into the frame, looking back over his shoulder at Keir--who remained at his same spot before our thrones. “Unless, of course, we grow tired of your existence,” he drawled before we continued out the doors.

The minute we were out of view of him, and the rest of the court patrons, he scooped me up into his arms and flew us into the palace above the mountains, the others right behind us. Amren was waiting in the open hall, seated on a settee, but popped up immediately when she took in my pale features.

“What happened?” She asked, but Rhys ignored her, sitting me gingerly on the settee and kneeling before me to check over my condition.

“I’m fine,” I reassured him and the others as they gathered around me, the jasmine scented breeze already doing wonders to soothe my tired body as I breathed deeply. “That took a lot more effort than it used to, that’s all.”

Mor sighed in relief before grinning smugly, “You did a damn fine job though, the look on his face was priceless.” she boasted.

Cassian crossed his arms over his chest, “I have to admit, you even intimidated me a little bit.”

I smiled tiredly as Rhys stood, facing them. “It intimidated him for now. Maybe that’ll be enough to stumble his plans with Kallon for a while. That alliance explains why he’s been more and more arrogant these past years, but our news of the baby today threw a wrench in their plans. A temporary one at least.”

“Did you get everything you needed?” I asked Azriel.

Everyone turned to the shadowsinger, who nodded. “I went over our timeline with the general, he confirmed the details, but revealed one more possible player.”

We all paused, and Rhys frowned, “Another alliance?”

Azriel nodded, causing Cassian and Mor to curse. Amren crossed her arms, “Let me guess. Beron?”

He nodded again, and Rhys cursed as I sighed. “He really wants that damn alliance with Beron, doesn’t he?” I asked.

“Did the general know what Beron’s role in all this is?” Rhys asked.

Azriel shook his head, “He only knew that they’ve been exchanging letters. No one seems to know what the letters say, or any other context, but it's rumored that it has to do with the coup.”

“We need to keep interrogating the general,” Cassian said. “He’ll find out eventually, and we need him to keep relaying information.”

Rhys nodded in agreement. “I’ll keep my grip on his mind, making sure he forgets but also start leading him to inquire about the letters.”

“I can get one of my spies to keep tabs on Keir,” Azriel insisted, but Rhys shook his head.

“This is a better way in. We can’t let Keir know we’re onto him. We already have your spies trailing Kallon and monitoring the camps in the mountains. Kallon thinks it’s part of our normal rotation. If Keir notices the same presence, he’ll connect the dots.” He explained.

Azriel and Cassian nodded in agreement. “So, what do we do now?” I asked, and one by one everyone took notice of my hand idly caressing my stomach.

Now that the Court of Nightmares knew of my pregnancy, word would spread quickly over the entire Night Court, including the Illyrians. Those behind this rising coup would find a way to regroup and create some new plan of action, that was guaranteed. The news of a potential new alliance with another court meant that their numbers were even greater now. My eyes met with Rhys’s as we both realized at the same time what our next move was.

“We need to call on our friends for an early summit meeting.”

56 notes · View notes

aty-altiria · 4 years ago

Text

K, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD?

No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD? Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

Word count: 3163

Universe: Harry Potter, My hero Academia

Pairings: Fem!Harry/Keigo Takami (Hawks)

Themes: Panic Attacks, Blood and gore, earthquakes, Claustrophobia, pre-relationship

Summary: He doesn’t like cramped spaces… some may considering him claustrophobic even if ‘official’ the fear was trained out of him. Well, it wasn’t as though the commission was there to yell at him, not pinned under a dozen floors of building with no escape in sight. Just another day at the job right? Keigo is fine. He’s not panicking, he’s fine!

@whumptober2020

Probably the longest of these fics

-----

There was no such thing as 'days off for Keigo, so it was no surprise he'd been working that afternoon.

Due to his fierce-wings quirk, Keigo wasn't entirely comfortable inside buildings, mostly small enclosed buildings. In another life, he would have labelled that mild nervous energy as a slight case of claustrophobia; but in this life, he'd been brutally trained to not react. Though, in another life, that mild nervousness might have remained just nervousness instead of the claustrophobia it truly was. Because if he hadn't been locked up- if he hadn't been forced to get over it, then he may have gotten over it like most children would have.

But he was fine.

Really he was.

Keigo was working, and though the venue for the photo-shoot and signing was… smaller than average. It was held in the basement level for a local mall, which meant there wasn't much in the way of windows, which meant Keigo… nervous. However, the owner was a big spender, and the cause was one any hero could get behind. It was okay, though. He was allowed to fly above the crowd - encouraged to - and his wings could extend above the group. So it was fine. He was fine. He was a hero; he pulled on his big-hero pants, waltzed onto the stage and did his thing. He flirted, winked, and stopped the show with some aerial displays and… he noticed her in passing.

She was at the back, dark curled hair, tanned skin, the greenest eyes he'd ever seen, covered by a set of circular glasses. She was on the phone, not even glancing over as Keigo sent some extra feathers in all directions, including hers. He'd intended to tease her, tickle her from a distance and get her attention. It was a passing desire, a distraction.

Their relationship would never have gone anywhere passed a brief flirt; he would have finished his show and left. The woman would have become one face in the crowd never to be seen again.

His feather brushed passed her, and she- snapped her hand out, quick as lightning. The woman snatched his feather from the air as if it had been moving in slow motion, which shouldn't have been possible- no one had ever- Keigo stopped, wings pumping to stare at her. To watch as she pulled her hand back and peer at his feather in confusion, he felt her fingers glide across his feather and- people started to scream.

In the air, Keigo was momentarily confused at the source. Instinct told him 'threat,' but training told him 'villain.' He swung his head around, looked for the danger as the lights started to shake and flicker. He was still searching when the 'shake' became something more. The ground heaved. Concrete cracked, plaster was sent flying toward the civilians- other heroes acted on instinct. They tossed themselves forward, rushed into action. People were yelling as people realized that this was probably an-

"EARTHQUAKE!"

Keigo dropped in height, his feathers shot out as he fell back on his training. On security. On drills. Feathers rushed out, protecting vulnerable heads, catching debris before they killed children. As Eraserhead, who was on security, froze when Keigo stopped a rock that nearly smashed into the back of Present Mic's head- and something shattered over Keigo's head. Flying slightly above the crowd, he was closest to the roof as it caved in. He was given only a second, long enough to look up as the floor above collapsed- and everything went black.

…

After what felt like a second but was more like an hour, Keigo opened his heads to the dark.

He couldn't see a thing, not even his hand if he'd tried to hold it in front of his face. Keigo was completely blind in the dark, and he… he couldn't move. What might have been left of his wings were pinned under what could probably be a dozen floors of concrete. Likewise, his lower body and his left arm were trapped motionless at his side. He could- he didn't- he fell back on training. Keigo could feel his legs, so he wasn't paralyzed, but he was still stuck, and attempting to move right then would probably be a massive mistake. Keigo could displace something and make everything worse for himself or others. His arm… it burned something fierce, so he still had it at the least, but the liquid beneath him that wasn't positive. It could be a burst pipe… or blood.

"Shit."

His wings were utterly dead, which may mean his feathers were just too far away, plausible considering he'd sent them out before being knocked out.

So, he was trapped under the building, he couldn't move, couldn't see, and Keigo may be either suffering intense blood-loss or could soon be drowning if what he was feeling was water. On the upside, the event had been televised, and there were plenty of heroes in the area. Rescue would likely be soon in coming. He'd just have to… wait, to just breathe easy to keep whatever air he had left.

He was fine. Except he wasn't.

"Shit-" Keigo repeated as the adrenalin in his body calmed, and his heart rate sped up drastically as he started to breathe faster and faster. Keigo's thoughts spiralled.

He wasn't okay, he was going into shock while trapped- trapped- trapped- "it's fine- itsfineitsfineitsfine-" He was- Keigo might have been a little- they could never know that he- was scared of-

Something flickered to his left.

Keigo never glanced so quickly in his life, never turned so fast before. His neck cracked audibly as he spotted it… light. To his immediate left, behind half a dozen pieces of rubble, disguised by shattered pipes and an… and a severed arm… was a light.

Freedom? That was the only thing Keigo could think in his panicked state, as he clawed into the concrete below him as if he could have pulled himself free from just that. His small shift caused the rocks pinning him to give an eerie rumble. Keigo froze, and a noise escaped his throat- something that, not even in the privacy of his own mind, could he admit was anything but a whimper.

"Hello?"

That had not been him. The voice was a woman, and it sounded from where the light was, a survivor? Keigo immediately felt calm; he was a hero, he was in uniform, he had to get his shit together. "Hey? Someone back there?" his voice didn't shake; he was fine.

A shuffle echoed down the opening. Creaking rocks and a boot sliding on debris, the woman was coming his way. The sounds and the eerie way it made the concrete creak made Keigo almost desperate to stop the person and yet… yet he couldn't bear it if they didn't come closer. So he kept his mouth closed until and a set of curly hair and green eyes poked their head around one of the rocks. She stood there, hand up, with a little bobbing light in her fingers - a light quirk? - and she looked calmer than Keigo had ever felt in his life. She looked as though the earthquake had been a minor inconvenience to her day, and she almost casually brushed a loose hair behind her ear.

But no- as she slowly climbed toward him, he noticed more. There was tension in her eyes, the blood on her arms, the way the hand at her side was bent a little bit incorrectly. The cuts in her pants that meant her leg had been trapped at one point. She was affected by what happened; she just wasn't panicked like he was.

The woman paused, taking him in at the same moment Keigo had hers. He didn't realize what she was seeing. She saw that his eyes were a bit too wide, that his expression a little too crazed- that he was not put together right then even if he was pretending to be.

"Be careful," Keigo cautioned when he noticed the spiked metal poking up from the floor in her path. Thanks to her light, he could make out more than before and, no, the liquid was not water. That wasn't… great…

"Got it." She was forced to her knees briefly with how low the roof had fallen. She poked around the metal, and her fingers slid slightly in his blood as she approached. Keigo watched her move; she circled the severe arm without an expression, ducked her head around some rubble, and then stopped on her hands and knees right in front of him with a stretched smile. "you're Hawks, right? I'm Holly… since I figure we're going to get to know each other quite well."

Was she a hero out of uniform? Her voice was soothing and experienced, designed to calm someone down, and the funny thing was, it was working. Keigo was instantly settled despite the shock his body was going into. It made him assume she had hero training of some kind and would have thought her part of the rescue team if not for the fact that she was dressed in civilian clothing and had been at the event.

Keigo also realized he'd never been treated to that voice before; he'd trained to use it. But he'd never received. Keigo also hadn't realized how effective it was on the reverse side.

"At this point, kid, you can call me Keigo." He wasn't much in the habit of giving out his real name, but from the blood below him… he probably wasn't making it out of this one.

"Not a kid," Holly flicked her fingers as two more lights flickered into life and bobbed around them. Then her head tilted as she took in the blood coating the floor, and… he caught sight of something.

"Just a nickname, kid… is that my feather?" She still had it, he hadn't noticed in the dark, but the arm limp at her side was clutching one of his bright red feathers, the very same she'd caught before the earthquake. Had… had she kept a hold of it this whole time?

"Yeah, it started tugging toward you so, I figured I'd follow it. Hoped it would lead me out, but this is okay too." She released his feather, which darted toward the rocks and stopped dead. Probably because he couldn't actually have it return to his wings, not with them pinned like they were. Keigo directed it back to her and had it tuck behind her ear. He'd consider that one lucky if it had brought Holly to him.

"Hold onto that for me, kid,"

"Not a kid," Holly leaned to the side, looked beyond where he could, and her expression pinched.

"Looks bad then?" he surmised.

"I've seen worse." Definitely a rescue hero of some kind, a civilian wouldn't have seen worse. "The rock on your arm isn't attached to anything, so I can move it, but I can't quite make out your legs. Wait here a second." She shuffled around, climbed toward his side and out of sight. Keigo almost told her not to; he wanted her to stay in view… to not leave him in the dark even though, with his feather at her ear, he could sense exactly where she was. But he kept his mouth closed. And in the end, he didn't need to tell her anything. Holly seemed to possess control over her lights like he had his feathers and left one right beside him. The bobbing lit of light kept the area illuminated, and her shifting was blatant - and likely purposely - telling him exactly where she was.

Keigo would have to thank her for that if he survived this. "Y-you better leave that there," he told her about the rock on his arm, "the blood loss is minimal right now but…" if she moved it, and she uncovered something worse, he'd bleed out in seconds.

"It'll be fine, I have a sp- quirk to help with that."

Wait? The lights could do more than just light up the room? Was it a healing quirk? That would be rare and immensely helpful. Keigo craned his head to catch sight of Holly. Still, he couldn't move enough, and he'd already established moving was a terrible idea. He was forced to sit and to wait as she crept about. As she 'haw'd' and 'hemm'd.' Before Holly finally returned to where he could see her.

"You want the good news or the bad news first?"

"Aww, kid, just rip off the bandaid. Give it to me all at once." Everything was a bit… fuzzy now; he didn't feel good. That was probably the shock or the blood-loss.

"Okay." She squatted beside him, "I can move the rock on your arm and heal whatever wound you have there. I can also see your wings; they're pinned under the rocks, though. The downside is, the rocks on your legs go up into the roof. I could remove them… but that could potentially bring the building down or collapse this floor entirely. On the reverse, I could get us both out of the building like-" she snapped "-that." She fidgeted with the lights and cast her eyes around the small area. "I won't sugarcoat it. If someone is trapped below or above is, bringing the floor down could kill them. But if I do nothing, you're going to bleed out… and there's a chance the roof could come down anyway. There will be rescue heroes working right now. They could drop it as well." She pointed to the roof: "we're in an air-pocket right now, trapped between floors so the area is… unstable and it could shift at any moment." Crushing them both, Keigo finished the thought she hadn't. At any moment, they could be killed.

Keigo took a fortifying breath. He didn't question how she knew any of this, how her quirk worked. Though he did pass a brief thought to wonder if she could escape whatever she wanted, why'd she followed his feather to him instead? But then he put it out of his mind to focus on what she'd told him. Keigo thought on it as calmly as he could manage at that moment. The best option was probably… "There's likely to be a hero nearby who can sense where people are." Like him, if he could just focus, but Keigo couldn't hear anything outside his own pounding heart "-if you can contact one, you could figure out if moving me would hurt anyone." The words were pulled from his mouth like teeth. He didn't want to be alone in the dark again- but he was also fine. "Can you get out alone? Is that possible?"

"It… is…" Holly's lips pressed together unhappily, "but I may not be able to come back, especially if something shifts while I'm out. It would change the entire flooring, and if it does-" A groan echoed. A rock dropped a breath away from her head to crack against the ground. Keigo wasn't the only one to flinch when it happened. The sound made them both jump, but where Keigo couldn't move, Holly did; she darted forward and grabbed his free arm- but nothing else fell.

"Go-" he all but ordered, "-go and check on the heroes… get to safety." He was the hero, he was the hero, he'd be fine-

But Holly didn't go. Not as the blood continued to coat the ground, not as he remained trapped, not as his wild expression gave away his fear. Because his glasses had shattered, his face was uncovered, blood-covered, and Keigo couldn't hide it. He was scared.

"There's a lot of possibles in what I suggested," Holly told him. She stared Keigo dead in the eye as she said it, "and I've rather actually save you, then leave you to die because someone might be below us."

"Kid, don't you dare-"

Her hand flicked, and the rock pinning his arm down vanished. It ceased to exist, and the mess that was his mangled arm was revealed. Keigo released a strangled noise as a thick ribbon of blood pumped out of his arm, a severed artery- and then warmth sank into him.

Keigo stared in shock as the wound closed, the bruises mended, and his finger snapped back into place, all while Holly chanted something. Keigo looked away from his arm to Holly, whose eyes were glowing slightly. A multipurpose quirk? Lights, healing, and teleportation? What sort of quirk did she have?

"Not a kid," Holly repeated firmly as she finished off healing his arm, "now, Keigo, hold to me tightly… because this is going to hurt. But I'm getting us out of here."

The potential of lives weighed at his consciousness. But the fear… the desire for survival, the determination Holly was putting off. All that had him reaching forward to grab her. It had him squeezing the skin of her wrist. Had him closing his eyes and bracing himself- and the world twisted away.

Holly was right. It was agonizing, and Keigo couldn't stop himself from screaming when they landed.

"It's okay; it's going to be okay." Holly ran a hand in his hair, soothed as a paramedic noticed them and rushed over. As warmth spread into his legs and wings, as Holly gently nudged his body back into place, coaxed it into healing, so he didn't bleed out. As the building gave an eerie noise and one of the floors collapsed, annihilating the spot they'd just been. "You'll be alright, Keigo, just breathe."

He'd later find out they were the last people trapped in the building. He'd also find out that Holly and Keigo hadn't actually caused the floor to collapse; a rookie hero had done it by accident. If Holly hadn't left when she had, they both would have died. Keigo would also discover the earthquake had been a villain quirk, and that by the quick action of the attending heroes, including himself, almost no one died. That, by escaping, he and Holly had caused no deaths and saved their own.

And that yes, Holly, whose last name Keigo had to jump through hoops to gain, was, in fact, single. Unfortunately for Keigo, Holly and he ended up being separated shortly after he'd lose consciousness. And the tale of how Keigo managed to track Holly down with the single feather he'd left her was one for another time.

#whumptober2020 #fem harry potter #Harry Potter #MHA #MHA fanfic #BNHA #bnha fanfic #Hawks #hawks/harry potter #Keigo Takami #earthquakes #Claustrophobia

9 notes · View notes

forevermybubblegum · 4 years ago

Text

♡SHORT STORY♡

THE forest hummed with life all around you. Your eyes squinted open slowly, mind still trapped in a foggy haze, as you gazed up at the orange painted sky, searching for the birds that flew about. The sun broke through the cracks, lighting up the dark bushy greenwood decorated with outgrown roots, wildflowers and fallen leaves that crunched as you tried to sit upwards. You shielded your eyes, taking in the fragrance of minty grass and damp earth. Each breath feeling like water, fresh and cleansing, flowing freely into your lungs.

You feel little bit of shock spark through you as you feel a heavy body on your lap, it's Tanjiro's head resting gently on your lap as he breathes slowly through his mouth, face dusted black with dirt and debris.

"What....?"You mumbled as your eyes widened when you spotted your other teammates Inosuke and Zenitsu sprawled on the floor unconscious and beaten.

You gasped, "Nezuko!"You exclaimed as you spotted Nezuko out of her box in the same state as others, you pondered through your thoughts trying to remember the events of the nightfall. Oh yes,You all were fighting a duo from the twelve kizuki, they were the most powerful foes you had ever faced and from the looks of it your team had succeded because they would have either kidnapped or killed you all if they had won.

Just then while you were recalling back your memory, A flash from the past whiffed through your mind in a blur,

"Tanjiro!"You had yelled, as Tanjiro whipped an arm to tell you to stand back, "Stay back Y/n!, your gonna get hur--Ack!" The female opponent landed him a powerful flying spin kick to the head, causing him to collide into the ground as figments shattered about.

"How dare you!"You had screeched as you sheated out your black katana from its scabbard. You held it firmly in both hands, the gradient glimmering in the blood moon light.You weren't the strongest and your hands were shaking more than it ever had, but you couldn't afford to let fear falter your determination to protect your comrades. Zenitsu and Inosuke were busy with the Male Demon, you could at least stall her for a while.

"You're mine pest!"She taunted as her long tongue fell out her mouth and she sped towards you, you screamed as you charged towards her but she slid under you and wrapped her long lizard-like tail around you neck, you dropped your sword in the rush of things and tried to loosen your neck as you were being chocked.

"Y/n!Y/n!"Inosuke and Zenitsu immediately charged towards you but were immediately blocked further by the male demon,"Oh no you don't!" He sang, cackling melancholicly.

She unwrapped her tail from your neck and dropped you to the floor as you gasped for breath heavily then feeling her tail tug unto your right leg and pull you up to hang you upside down, "Hmmmm, such nice soft legs..I wonder what will happen if I break them"She whispered,red eyes gleaming as she ran her tongue down from your knee to your ankle and you bit your lip in disgust,eyes shut tight.

"Heheeheee..."You heard a crack, not believing it was yours till the strong wave of pain ran through your veins. You screeched in pain as surprised birds flew out the trees they had being hiding in.

"Y/n!!"Your teammates yelled as the other crack was heard, the pain was unbearable, tears streamed down your eyes as you screamed and could do nothing more than tha--.

You snapped out of the nostalgic recap and looked to see yourself still staring at Tanjiro as you gently ran your hand through his red hair with a smile on your face.You then removed his head from your lap and placed it gently on a folded piece of your robe next to you as you stared at your right leg, the bruise was more than noticeable and you gently tried to massage it to see if it would help but- "Ow!" You winced in pain as you shut an eye.

You then began to hear footsteps inching nearer and nearer to you, you stiffed yourself, scared to death that it was another demon when Hashiras and medical care came in the sight of your E/c pupils rushing to you all. You let out a loud sigh in relief as Shinobu rushed to you and you rested your head on her lap when did.

"Shinobu...san..."You breathed out with a smile on your lips as she gently shushed you with a worried frown on her face, you slowly began to lose consciousness once more as you fell into a deep sleep.

*Few Weeks Later*

"Y/n...I miss you, I'm so sorry for not protecting you..Y/n.."You felt a pair of warm hands cupping your right one as you slowly squinted your eyes open, sun kissing your skin lightly through the scraped space of the half opened window.

"T...tanjiro?"You asked softly as you turned your face to look at him, his worried eyes widened in joy as he jumped up from his chair.

"Y/n!!"

"T-tanjirooo!"You tried to match up his enthusiasm as he hugged you while you were on the bed, your right foot wrapped in a cast filled with colorful signatures. You giggled in joy and you hugged him back with one arm patting his back.

"Y/n forgive me..."Tanjiro said in a serious tone gently and calmly,falling back onto his chair. "Tanjiro I--"

"I let you down, its my fault that your leg...and you were so badly injured I--"

"Tanjiro its not your fault, I charged in when I shouldn't hav--"

"BECAUSE YOU WERE PROTECTING ME!"He yelled furiously as you were taken aback by his outburst.

"I-I'm sorry Y/n.."He mumbled in a downhearted tone as you reached in and placed your hand on top of his.

"Yoshi yoshi Tanjiro-kun"You sang gently as he laughed and sniffed, giving you his usual kind smile.

"Okay I know what im going to do!!"He exclaimed with his hands resting on his hips like a superhero.

"Hm?What?"You asked gently with a smile on your face.

"Im gonna be the one to take care of you while you recover!!"He annouced as your brows shot up.

"Ehhhh! Tanjiro you dont have to do tha--!!"

"I will and I will!!"He exclaimed as you smiled to yourself, knowing you couldn't stop him anymore after he had made his choice.

"Y/nnnnnnnnn!!!"You heard Zenitsu burst into your hospital room with tears streaming down his face.

"I knew I heard your voice! I missed you!!"He cried and went up to hug you which you reciprocated, "Zenitsuu! Y/n needs her rest!"Tanjiro warned as Zenitsu stuck his tongue out at him and skipped out of the room,wiggling his eyebrows at both you and Tanjiro as you noticed Tanjiro's cheeks dust in a light shade of pink.

"How is Nezuko and Inosuke?"You asked as Tanjiro gave you a reassuring smile.

"Ah they are well and hearty,Nezuko really wanted to see you after she woke up"He informed as you giggled, Nezuko was your closest and only girl-friend in the group, both of you were inseperable.

"Ahaha, I want to see her too"

"Y/n! You better get well so we can fight each other again!"You heard Inosuke's voice as he walked past your room,You chuckled and yelled "Will do!"in response, just happy to hear from everyone again.

A few days passed and....,"Chu chuuu!"Tanjiro mimicked a moving train as you opened your mouth and he placed the spoon filled with steaming rice and curry inside your mouth and you chewed it slowly.

"Tanjiro, you know you don't have to say chu chuu everytime you feed me"You pouted as he laughed and ruffled you hair in a caring manner and you ate more of the curry.

* * * * * *

Another day passed by and the morning had reached quicker than expected, Tanjiro as you've guessed had never left your side, he even read you a book every night as you doozed off.

"Good morning Y/n, It's time for your bandage change, Tanjiro would you like to stay?"The nurse asked as he nodded in response, both of you had been chatting before the nurse had come in. The syringe needle then came in sight taunting you as your eyes widened in horror,

"Not again"You whined, squirming in your bed as she smiled in pity,knowing this was your worse part of the day.

"It will be okay Y/n,I'm here"Tanjiro said as you took a deep breath and as much as you wanted to jump out of the bed you took his hand in yours and squeezed it tight instead.

"Ow.."You yelped startled as she injected you and few seconds later she was done, then changing your bandage and leaving.

"See that wasn't so bad"He smiled causing the tips of your lips to quirk up as well,"Yes, it really wasn't"You replied gently as you then realized both of you were still holding hands.

"Um...I-"You face increased steadily in its temperature as your cheeks reddened in a noticeable manner.

"Y/n?What's wrong?Are you coming down with a fever?"He asked, worry dipping from his wrods as he raised up your straightened h/c bangs and placed his strong forehead on yours causing you heartbeat to quicken.

"I-I-I need to rest! Yeah, thats what I need!"You blabbered in a flustered manner as you fell onto your bed and faced the opposite side of him so that he could see your back instead.

"Okay, I actually do have to go train now, Sleep well Y/n"Tanjiro's gentle voice rang through your ear and you bit the inside of your cheek.

"Why does he make me feel this way?.." You thought calming yourself down as you began to doze off into a serene state of rest.

* * * * *

"Y/nnnn cmon just take it!"Tanjiro whined, pleading you as you shook your head even more.

"You wont get better if you don't"He said giving you another reason to take your disgusting medications from the tray they laid on.

"Ugh fine..I hate this"You mubled as he beamed, happy yhat you armgreed and placed them on your palm accompanied by a glass of refreshing water. You shut your eyes close and quickly downed the drugs,grimacing in distate.

"Bitter..."You mumbled, smacking your tongue against your upper mouth as Tanjiro patted your head as his usual form of comfort.

* * * * *

"The Traveler then strolled into the forest and was never seen or heard from, 'again'"Tanjiro narrated the book in a scary way as he shut it close, laughing at how scared you were quivering under your bed sheet.

"Y/n dont be scared, Im here to protect you and this time without fail"He smiled as you removed the blanket from you and looked up at him.

"Thank you Tanjiro, I lo--"You stopped yourself, were you just about to say you loved him?, Do you love him?, Does he love you the same way you do? Do--

"Y/n!"Tanjiro yelled worriedly as you snapped out of your thoughts and back to reality.

"Are you alright!?"He asked as he placed both hands on your shoulder and you laughed in response, "I'm fine Tanjiro-kun, thank you for taking care of me"

"Don't thank me for doing my duty Y/n"He replied as he took your right hand into his warm ones,beaming once more as your heart thumped like it usually did when you were around him.

* * * * * *

"Slowly, one more step, yes you're doing it"Tanjiro smiled and instructed you as he helped you to walk down the hallway , your leg had actually recovered to the point where you were allowed to leave your hospital room and see your friends.

"I can't do it Tanjiro-san!"You whined with an arm slung on Tanjiro's shoulder for support.

"Yes you can Y/n, try try!"He supported you with encouraging words as you smiled and continued to walk with him. Ignoring the pain and limping to the field where Inosuke, Zenitsu and Nezuko were according to Tanjiro.

"Mina!!Guys!"You exclaimed as Nezuko who had been running away from Zenitsu paused to stare at you, you could see the edge of her brows perk up in worry as she hurried towards you and engulfed you in a hug.

"Yoshi yoshi Nezuko-chan, I missed you too"You giggled as Nezuko cuddled her head on your chest.

"I see you're ready to spar me again idiot"Inosuke smirked as the same expression found its way to your face.

"Come at me stupid"You responded as he began to run up to you but was blocked by Tanjiro.

"Leave Y/n Alone Inosuke, Fight me instead"Tanjiro said as Inosuke thought about it for a second and accepted his offer.

"Wait..."You thought as you stared at the space Tanjiro was supposed to be in next to you, only see blank lines of his body causing you to fall to the ground.

"Owie...my butt.."You mumbled, rubbing your backside as everyone gasped and ran up to you. You stared at their distraught faces and couldnt help stifling and then bursting out laughing. Everyone except nezuko joined in while she just blinked and looked around like usual.

* * * * * * *

"Can I open my eyes now?"You asked pouting as you waved your arms around to make sure you didn't hit anything since all you could see was black because Tanjiro was covering your eyes.

"Almost there"He told you as you pouted even more and continued walking,you then noticed you were in the field because of how normal the grass had felt tickling your feet.

Your eyes were uncovered and you stared at the beautiful arrangement of hung flowers,decorations and tables filled with food and snacks, it was nighttime as well and in the background of the midnight sky you could hear the whistle of fireworks as they bursted in a pure bliss of colorful sparks all around.

"HAPPY RECOVERY Y/N!!!!"Everyone including you team, friends, nurses and even the hashira's came out of their hiding spots and yelled out to you as the fireworks continued in the background.

Gentle and silent tears streamed down your cheeks as your heart ached,"Thank you guys,thank you so mu--"You were surprised to feel yourself held by the shoulders and twisted right to face someone.

"Tanjiro, w-what are you--"You were cut off by his lips pressing gently on yours as he placed his hands firmly onto your waist, with eyes wide and a thumping heart his kiss stole all thoughts that had enveloped your mind.

The crowd began to cheer loudly as your eyes fluttered close and with hot cheeks you willingly kissed him back, wrapping your eyes around his neck gently and humming in gentle pleasure.

"Yeah Tanjiro go get some!!"The Fire Hashira yelled as he was smacked in the head by Giyuu.

"Young love...so b-beautiful"The Love Hashira mumbled as she wiped the tears forming at the corner of her lids.

He then pulled away causing you to whimper at the lost of his lips as he placed his forehead on yours, "Y/n, I love you"He said, breathing heavily but still gentle enough to not be heard.

"Tanjiro, I...I love you too"You smiled genuinely, heart skipping in the background.

"Will you be mine?"He asked as he knelt on one knee, holding a rose that came out of nowhere with a hopeful smile on his face.

"I--"You then nodded, being too nervous to answer his question properly, "Oh my God guys she said Yes!!!"Tanjiro yelled to everyone as they all began to cheer and clap excitedly. He then embraced you in a warm and loving hug which you accepted. Standing on your tip toes to peck him on the lips, its a good thing your leg was fully healed.

"You and I forever Y/n"He whispered in your ear as you smiled and nodded.

"Mhm, You and I forever, Tanjiro-kun."

14 notes · View notes

faofinn · 4 years ago

Text

Running Out Of Time - Whumptober Day 4

@whumptober2020

Clinic hours weren’t why Fao had joined the Army, but they were par for the course as a junior registrar. Theatre was where he wanted to be, naturally, but here he did feel like he was making a difference.

Outreach to the locals was rewarding, and whilst it wasn’t his favourite it was still a good learning experience. A chance to practice his sutures, work on his bedside manner, paeds practice. It was what you made it, and Fao wanted to make the most of his tours. So he threw himself into clinic, and he definitely learned from it.

Harrison had joined the army as an escape, as so many others did. He was never really sure what he wanted to do, torn between two many options and told he’d never be good at any of them.

He’d loved it at first, the days long and tiring, but for once filled with purpose. It gave his life some meaning, and even messing about with his colleagues was fun. Daft and sometimes stupid, yes, but he was still young.

Even during clinic hours, he’d mess around, often pushing the boundaries with what he was allowed to do. He’d been pulled up a few times for it, but somehow seemed to get away with it. Teasing the older juniors was the most fun, watching them get more infuriated with him before he’d cave and help out. It didn’t help that others were rather attractive and he wanted their attention, but that was just an added bonus.

Fao's consultant had left him somewhat in charge of the clinic that day, and he was already ridiculously busy. He'd not slept that well, typically, and now there was a stack of paperwork in front of him that needed doing.

He turned in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Harrison, are you done with bed three? I really need it.”

“Yeah, almost. I’m trying.”

“How much longer? I've got like four people who need to be seen.”

“How long is a piece of string?” He shrugged, gesturing with his hands. “I don’t know. They’ll be done when they’re done.”

“Not even a vague estimate?”

“Six years?”

Fao rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just find me when you've discharged.”

“I’m not trying to be a dick.” He softened. “Honestly. I’ll do my best.”

“Ah, I get it. Winding us seniors up gives you a kick. Just… Be quick. I've got so many people desperate to be seen.”

Harrison grinned as he left. “Nah, just you.”

“Twat.”

For once Harrison did as he was told, finishing his treatment and discharging within the half hour. He returned to Fao with a mischievous grin, loitering in the doorway.

Fao didn't even look up. “I know it's you, Harrison. And I know you're grinning like a Cheshire cat. Have you discharged?”

His grin widened. “Yes, your highness. All done.”

He stretched his hand out. “Paperwork?”

“Illegible, but done.” He passed it across, barely suppressing the urge to throw it. “Happy?”

Fao scanned over it - it was no worse than his. “More than.”

“Excellent. Anything else?”

“Keep treating, kid. There's people everywhere.”

“Shocking. It’s almost like we’re in a warzone.”

“Smartass.”

Harrison grinned again, almost laughed. “What would you do without me?”

Fao finally looked up at him, and leaned back in his chair. “Replace you with someone who talks less and works more.” He said, but his words were light and he was smirking.

“Hey, I work.” He joked back. “You wouldn’t have that paperwork if I didn’t.”

“I know, I know. God, I swear I'm losing my mind doing this paperwork. What's it like today? As hellish as it appears?”

“Worse.”

Fao sighed. “It's getting worse again.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me. I don’t understand it at all.”

“Me neither. People are going to get hurt.”

“We need to move on.”

“Like hell will we, though.” He muttered. “Just have to do our best for the people we can treat. Grab me if you need?”

"Of course. Shout if you need any help with the paperwork, though." He offered before adding. "Wouldn't want you getting a papercut."

“If I do, wouldn't trust you to put a plaster on it.”

"Ouch."

Harrison laughed as he left, shooting Fao a glance over his shoulder. He wasn’t much older than him, but he seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. Not that he could blame Fao half the time, having to put up with him. At least he sometimes got a smile out of him.

Moments after Harrison left, Fao got a page from his CO. There'd been strikes in the area, they were expecting a load of critical patients and needed to clear the clinic to make space.

“Harrison!” He called down the hall after the younger man.

He rolled his eyes, arms filled with supplies for restocking. “What’s up, Wolfie?”

“I need everyone out. Now. Anyone who's not immediately at risk if they're not treated, out. Every bed cleared, everyone gone. Strikes, and we're the closest place for aid.”

“On it.” Fao seemed worried, and Harrison knew the last thing he needed was him being an ass. “Give me five minutes and we’ll be empty.”

“Here, give me all that.” Fao said, gesturing to the supplies Harrison held. “You go sort patients, let me deal with the admin shit.”

He passed it across. “It’ll be okay. You could run this shit in your sleep.”

He nodded. “Any patients who need to stay, stay, but try and move them to free up beds. We need-” Fao didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. The world shattered around them, too quickly to realise why.

Harrison couldn’t breathe. There was a searing pain down his spine and his head was too sluggish to think. It took too long to place where he was, and he slipped before he could do anything.

It took Fao a while to realise what was going on. His ears were ringing, the air was thick with dust. His eyes finally focused on the rubble around him, and realised he was pinned. He couldn’t move, but he could breathe. Just about, it was hard.

Harrison next woke coughing, almost retching against the air. He blinked slowly, trying to clear his vision. It wasn't his eyes, he realised eventually, the ringing in his ears almost deafening. He tried shouting, calling to see if anyone was there, if anyone was still alive.

It was muffled, but Fao could hear a shout. Close, too. Even through the ringing of his ears, he could hear. Harrison? It had to be, he was the only one close to him before.

“Harrison?!” He called hoarsely.

"Fao? Fao!"

He broke off coughing. “You ‘kay?”

"I'm alive." He shouted back, voice rough. "You alright? You hurt?"

“Think ‘m ‘kay.” He called. “Where are you?”

"Not far from you, I think. I can't fucking see anything."

“Trapped? Think I am.”

Harrison swore. "I think I can get out."

“Careful.”

He snorted. "When am I ever?"

“Careful.” He repeated, trying to be firm.

Harrison rolled his eyes (a bad decision only making the dizziness worse) and started trying to move. Something sharp stabbed him in the back and he cried out, fingers coming back red.

It wasn't too deep, the metal pole able to be moved with a shove. He made it to his knees before he started retching again, the room spinning again.

“Tomcat?!” Fao called, panicked at his cry.

"'m fine." He groaned. "I'm comin'."

“You ‘kay?”

"Just peachy."

“Sure?”

"Yeah, yeah. You know the one that's been dropped? All bruised and battered and nobody wants it?" He muttered, mainly to himself. "Just like that."

Fao couldn’t quite hear, just groaned and struggled to move. “This is heavy.”

"I know, Wolfie, I'm trying. Can you move at all?"

“I think so?”

"Can you move your legs? Arms? You bleeding anywhere?"

Fao spent a few moments focused on his body. “Don’t think I’m bleeding. Everything moves, jus’... covered in shite. Ribs are killer.”

"Yeah, I bet. Glad you're moving though." He groaned. "I'm nearly there. My flashlight is shite."

“Yeah, ‘m ‘kay.” It was hard to focus on Harrison, now other people were crying out. The air was thick, and Fao was sure something was on fire.

"Do me a favour, Wolfie. Keep talking to me, whatever bullshit you usually sprout."

Fao sighed, though it quickly turned into a coughing fit. “Think we deserve a drink when we get back.”

"Just one? I'll take the case."

“God, absolutely.”

It was hard to see through the dust, and it was only growing harder to breathe. Fao was a welcome sight though, even covered in debris and dirt.

“I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Fao looked up at him, struggling. “Get this shit off of me? Don’t think it’s crushing anything major.”

Harrison tried a laugh. “Nothing major? Guess you’ve not got much down there.”

“Fuck you!”

“With what?” He quipped back, testing the weight of it. “Any chance you could help me give it a shove? I’m not sure I can do it all. But I promise - I promise - I’ll get you out of here.”

“Yeah, help me sit? My arm’s stuck.”

“Yeah, ‘course. What do you want me to do?”

Fao was busy trying to keep moving his fingers. “Try and move it? Then I can sit and help.”

“Sure, sure. You ready? On three.” He gave Fao a countdown before shoving it, putting his weight behind it.

It took a few attempts, but it finally shifted, Harrison slipping with it as it moved. He gave it another shove for good measure, his feet struggling to get grip and not getting any further.

Fao groaned as the weight of the rubble was replaced with the weight of Harrison. “What're you doin’, Tomcat?”

“Trying to free your sorry ass. I slipped.”

“You ‘kay?”

“Course.” He grumbled. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Can help when you move.”

He moved slowly, feeling the grate of his ribs with every movement. "Better?"

“Mm.” Fao said, and slowly managed to sit up. His eyes had started to adjust to the low light now, and he struggled to move the rubble that was over his legs. His chest burned and the dust just made it harder to breathe, but he was so nearly free.

With Fao more free, Harrison swept the light over him. "Where are you hurt?"

“‘M fine, just bruised. Help me get this shit off.”

"Are you sure? I don't want you to bleed out on me as soon as I move it."

“Not gonna.”

He gave Fao a short smile. "You better fucking not."

“I won’t. Feel fine.”

“Like fuck do you.” He scoffed. “C’mon, hold onto me, I’ll drag you the rest of the way.”

“Not even dizzy.” Fao protested, but gripped onto Harrison.

Harrison winced. “Not there, move your hands slightly.”

“Oh.” Fao said, and shifted his grip.

“Much better.” He muttered through gritted teeth. “Ready?”

“Yeah, go on.”

Harrison nodded, gripping onto Fao’s clothing as he pulled. He groaned with effort, the pain only worsening and proving to make it more difficult.

“You’re such a lump.”

“Thanks.” Fao said, kicking to get free. The rubble was heavy but he seemed unharmed, aside from his ribs and a few scratches. Breathing heavily (and painfully) he struggled to his knees.

Harrison extended an arm. "You alright? You good?"

Fao nodded, a hand wrapped around his ribs. It was a struggle to get his breath back, it was agony, but he eventually managed. “Yeah. Let me get a look at you.”

“I’m fine. Let’s just get you out and then I’ll see who else is in there.”

“No, let me make sure you're okay.”

“I’m fine, Wolfie. I wasn’t the one trapped.”

“I hurt you when I grabbed you.” Fao said, narrowing his eyes. “Give me your light.”

“It hurt because you grabbed me. We both got blown up. It’s no big deal.”

“Light. Now.” Fao said, trying his best to be authoritative.

“Piss off.” Harrison turned away, hiding his face. “Can you walk out of here?”

“Harrison, let me see.”

“No. I’ve said I’m fine.” He snapped. “Now, are you walking or am I going to have to drag your ass out of here too?”

“I'll walk. Waiting for the feeling to get back in my legs properly.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take your time. Put your arm around me, I’ll help you.”

Fao looked up at him, trying to ignore the pain in his ribs. “Sure.”

“C’mon, let’s get you out.”

Fao struggled to his feet, refusing to use Harrison for help. He'd be fine, he just had to go slow.

“Hey, come here.” Harrison wrapped his arm around Fao’s waist. “Let me help.”

“‘m fine.”

“Then stop bein a dick.”

The world span as Fao finally stood, but he managed to stay upright and looked over at Harrison. “‘m up.”

“Yeah, good job.” He gave Fao a genuine smile. “You’re doing good.”

“Out? I wanna get a look at you.”

“Yeah, we can get out.”

“Unless you give me your torch.”

He narrowed his eyes. “We’re getting you out.”

“Fine.”

Mainly supporting Fao, Harrison started walking, stumbling over the uneven ground. Each jolt sent a shock of pain through him, only serving to make his dizziness worse. He had to get Fao out, he was the main priority. They could deal with him later.

Fao could tell he wasn't right. He was fine to walk, just slow, it was Harrison who was stumbling. “Hey, you alright?” He asked. “Lean on me a bit?”

He laughed quietly. “It’s meant to be you leaning on me.”

“Keep trippin’ and you'll pull me over anyway. Lemme help.”

“No, no. I’ll be better.”

“Come on, I can take you a bit.”

"Is that an offer?"

“Piss off.”

"What would you do with-without me?"

“Told you - find someone who works more and talks less.” He joked weakly.

"Yeah. Hell, you'd be better off without me."

“Nah, you're a good one.”

"Sure, sure." It was growing harder for Harrison to see straight, his vision darkening as he walked. He just had to get Fao out, get him safe, that was all.

Fao gripped him tightly. He was getting heavier, and he was worried. He tried his best, struggling over the rubble.

Harrison stumbled, reaching out to grab at the wall. “‘m okay.”

“Careful.”

“I just tripped.” He grumbled, trying to brush it off. “But I’m gonna be sick.”

“Oh.” Fao mumbled, pulling back.

He managed an apology before turning away, immediately throwing up. He took a moment to compose himself, dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and then returned to Fao's side.

"Sorry."

“Let's get out.” Fao said firmly, and managed to get them both out into the natural light. They still had cover, but it seemed whoever had destroyed the building was long gone.

“We need help, there’ll be people still in there.”

“Yeah, I've got no comms or anything on me. Was all in the office.”

“I’ll head back in, see what I can grab.”

“No, let me look at you first.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

Fao reached out for him, but realised his hands were already somewhat bloody and frowned. “Are you bleeding?”

“A tiny bit. It’s nothing.” He shrugged, stepping away. “Just a scratch.”

“Let me see.”

“Why’re you so obsessed with me?”

“Because I think you're more hurt than you say you are.”

“You always say you want me to say less.”

“It's a joke, kid.” Fao said, moving closer.

Harrison nodded. “Yeah.”

“Let me look?”

“Nothin’ to see.”

“Sure, I'll be the judge of that.”

“You’ll be wrong.” Fao was having trouble staying in focus and Harrison frowned. “Will you just stand still?”

Fao’s brows knitted together. “I am stood still.”

“You look like a worm.”

“Why don't we sit, hmm?” Fao said, a hand on his shoulder.

“You want me on my knees?” Harrison tried joking, shrugging Fao’s hand off.

“Funny. Come on, worried you're gonna pass out on me.”

“What would I go and do that for?”

“To be wholly inconvenient.”

Harrison cracked a smile. “Jus’ returning the favour.”

His knees gave out first, eyes rolling as he collapsed. The pain and dizziness disappeared as his world bled into darkness.

“Oh, for fucks sake.”

#whumptober2020 #whumptober #no.4 #running out of time #collapsed building #buried alive #whump prompt #whump #whump writing #Faolan Blackwood #Hars #Wolfie and Tomcat #Harrison #army au #faoxhars #these twilight moments

6 notes · View notes

sheyshen · 4 years ago

Text

Fictober Day 25

Prompt: “Sometimes you can even see.” Fandom: Wow (World of Warcraft) Rating: T Pairing: Night Elf Priestess/Blood Elf Hunter (Aulara/Kieran) (mentioned are Sen, an Orc hunter, and Koren, a Human Paladin)

There was fire everywhere. Kieran ran through the streets of Darnassus, a hood drawn tight over his head to hide as much of his features as possible. There was too much chaos that it was unlikely anyone would notice a blood elf amongst those trying desperately to escape but he didn't want to risk it.

People were shouting to be heard, pulling injured free of destroyed buildings, dumping water on any fire they could reach. Heroes who were willing to risk their lives if it meant that they could save at least one person. He was sure the one he was looking for was somewhere among them. He couldn't let himself even think that she might be amongst the dead that already littered the streets.

He had known she was in Darnassus when Sylvanas had made the push into Darkshore, just as she knew he had been with the Horde forces. Neither were happy with it, but as the Champion of the Horde, he wasn't in a position to say no. He went along, thinking this was just a land grab, a chance to gain ground and fortify their hold on Kalimdor.

He was wrong.

Kieran had a bad feeling when the trebuchets were set up, but he assumed they were for defense from naval reinforcements. He realized his mistake too late as the first shot was launched hitting the branches of Teldrassil and setting it alight. He had heard Sen curse as he sprinted away, charging to where some remaining night elves and alliance forces were mounting up to retreat to the city to save those who would be caught in the destruction.

He had stolen a hooded cloak as he rushed to them, pulling the hood up to hide his features and did his best to pretend to be a human. An injured sentinel helped him onto her hippogryph and he was brought along without question.

From there he was launched into chaos.

There was still no sign of Aulara. He bumped into a human in heavy armor, his hood slipping back and showing his face just as the soldier turned to look at him. The human's eyes went wide for a moment before they started looking around quickly.

"Kieran, what are you…" he was grasping for words, "what… I…"

The blood elf pulled his hood back up thanking his luck that he ran into someone he knew. "Koren, where's Lara?"

"I-i don't know, I've been searching everywhere. We were separated as soon as the fires started and-"

"Where did you see her last?"

"By the druid… area. I don't know the districts here." He gestured across the lake, "I thought she'd go to the temple but-" he shook his head.

"Can you show me?"

"Y-yeah. Yeah, follow me."

The paladin sounded so rattled, and Kieran couldn't blame him. Koren and Aulara grew up together, so for him to lose the closest thing to family… the hunter refused to continue that thought. His wife was fine, she was alive somewhere in the city, she was likely helping with rescuing others, she would be in one piece.

They ran through the streets past the destroyed buildings of the artisans who trained there. A woman shouted for help, and while both were desperate to find their priestess, they couldn't just ignore the cry. Both turned and headed to where they heard the shouting. A woman was crying, screaming, next to a destroyed building, quiet sobbing could be heard from beneath it.

"My daughter. She's-"

"We'll get her out." Koren turned and wedged his shield under the edge of the roof. "Kieran, I'm gonna need you to pull them out. I won't be able to hold this up long."

The elf nodded, debated for half a second, and pulled off the cloak, tossing it to the side. The crying woman's eyes widened but she didn't say anything, instead watched them guardedly.

Koren shifted the shield, using it as a wedge and slowly the roof lifted. He braced himself on it, straining to get it up as much as he could as Kieran lay on his stomach and slid himself under the debris. He found the child and grabbed her.

The little elf screamed in alarm but stilled as the roof above her groaned as the weight shifted.

"It's alright, I'm a friend," Kieran spoke gently in Darnassian, letting her know she was safe as he crawled back, bringing her with him till both were out from under the building. "She's out, drop it."

Koren dropped the part of the roof he had been holding onto, kicking his shield out of the way and then collapsing on the wood, trying to catch his breath. The little girl scrambled away from Kieran to the waiting arms of her mother.

"Thank you." She said as she stood, holding her child close.

"Head to the temple." Koren was still trying to catch his breath so the words were spaced between exhalations. "They have portals."

"Before you go," Kieran spoke up. The mother looked distrustful, but she didn't run at least. "I'm looking for someone. My wife. She’s a priestess that should've been here. White hair about this long wears a white dress with a black and red cloak."

The woman looked like she was about to bolt, but she pointed to a pair of buildings that were falling onto each other. "She saved me there before I rushed home."

"Thank you." Kieran smiled at her, and grabbed Koren's shield as the paladin pushed himself to his feet, "ready?"

He nodded, thanking the woman too as she ran to the temple for safety. "Tired, but I'll be fine."

"Let's go." The hunter strapped the shield onto his back as best he could with his bow and quiver still there. He didn't bother putting the cloak back on. Koren went to say something but decided not to as they hurried towards where the woman indicated.

"Sometimes…" the human started, "you can see how much you love her."

Kieran glanced at his friend and raised an eyebrow.

"I mean I've never doubted you, but a member of the horde and alliance marrying, there has to be an ulterior motive in there. But you never have. You've risked so much to be with her."

"Not much left to risk now." They turned a corner, fire spreading quickly above them, "I doubt ill be welcome in the horde now, there's no way Sylvanas didn't notice me leaving."

"True…" frantic shouts made them pick up their pace as they ran toward them.

A pair of druids tended to burns on three injured night elves. Though all were covered in blood and dirt one of the injured was immediately recognizable.

"Lara!" Kieran rushed to her side, Koren right behind him. She turned her head slowly to look at him, groaning in pain as she did so. As soon as she saw the blood elf's face she smiled and reached up. He took her hand mumbling apologies as he held it tight.

"What happened?" Koren looked over the battered team.

"Tree collapsed, if it weren't for the priestess we would've been stuck in there." One druid said.

The other spoke up, "she took a branch to the legs trying to protect us, one of them is broken and we cant carry her out of here without.."

"I understand." Kieran glanced at them. He turned his attention back to his wife, "this might hurt, but I'll try to keep you steady." He put an arm under her legs and the other around her back. She winced as he got a good grip on her and lifted, standing as he did so. "We need to get her out of here."

"Agreed." Koren bent down and helped one of the other injured elves to their feet, bracing them as he led them forward, the druids helping the last and the team of survivors made their way towards the temple of the moon.

"I knew you'd come." Aulara grinned.

"I'd never leave you behind. You know that." Kieran huffed a laugh.

"Mhm." She smiled. She was exhausted and in pain, but she had done the best she could. "I'm healing it, but it's slow. I've been healing so many and-"

"You did everything you could. You saved a lot of lives. So get some rest, you can finish healing your legs after you get some sleep."

"But."

"No buts, rest."

She grumbled in reply, but snuggled in as best she could and closed her eyes.

The group hurried into the temple. They were met with looks of surprise but no one even tried to stop him as he stepped through the portal to Stormwind. Getting his bearings he prepared himself for the worst as Koren appeared behind him and they escorted the injured to the cathedral.

He received looks of surprise and anger but none stopped him. He wasn't ready to face the consequences of his choice, but in the end, being in the horde or the alliance didn't matter to him as long as she was safe. If he was exiled, imprisoned… he wasn't sure what they did to prisoners, but in the end, it would be worth it. Aulara was safe.

#my writing #fictober20 #wow #world of warcraft #oc: aulara stormdawn #oc: kieran grimmarrow #oc: koren haven #blood elf hunter #night elf priest #human paladin

4 notes · View notes

atinytokki · 5 years ago

Text

𝐙𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Chapter 9: The Escape

(Warnings: slavery, violence, blood and gore, character death, suicide)

“There she is!”

In a remote corner of the marina, one special ship was moored to the dock piling, bouncing good-naturedly and waiting to be boarded. San again ignored his still healing leg and sprinted the last few steps up the gangway and threw his arms around the main mast.

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” Yeosang dragged their hostage over before securing him under the main grating and taking a step back to admire his home. “They didn’t damage her, at least.” He ran his hands along the side railing and sunk happily to a seat on his favourite barrel.

“Oh, what do you think they did with my box beds?” San gasped before disappearing below decks and then returning with a massive grin. “They’re still here! Everything’s still here! Captain’s going to be so happy...”

Yeosang tuned him out as a strange feeling washed over him. The sun had dipped out of sight, moonlight rising to take its place. But something was wrong. Yeosang bolted upright.

“Where’s Junyoung?”

...

When the smoke cleared, the building was collapsing.

The floor had opened up into the dungeon which had also opened up into some secret cavern beneath it that waited for them, an endless black hole to plunge into. Luckily, all the members had managed not to fall three stories and had grabbed onto something.

The Master’s wife clung to the balcony as it was tilted up from the sinking centre of the fortress. Hongjoong was the closest to her, having been able to grasp a chunk of the tile that was still partially attached to the rest of the room. He took a quick inventory and concluded that other than his hands being a bit singed he was fine. Below him, he could hear the others struggling. He risked a look.

“Seonghwa!” Seonghwa was slipping a few feet away, none of his grabs for freedom making any purchase.

“Here,” Hongjoong extended his right hand to him, making sure his hold on the floor was still secure. Seonghwa stretched his own hand out toward him, reaching as far as he could without losing his balance before shaking his head. “You’re too far away.”

Hongjoong lowered himself another foot into the chasm and strained even harder, fingers brushing Seonghwa’s.

A chorus of yells broke out below them and they both looked down. “Don’t move any more, Captain!” It was Mingi, blinking sticky blood out of his eyes and grabbing his forehead with one hand. He and Jongho were directly underneath him, clinging to each other and a ledge of tile that bent down into the darkness. “You’ll bring the rest of the floor down!”

Hongjoong looked back at Seonghwa, heart sinking. “You’ll have to jump.” Seonghwa groaned and prepared himself to take the leap. Hongjoong’s knuckles were white around the chunk of floor he gripped in anticipation.

With a yell, Seonghwa’s feet pushed off and he flew through the air before Hongjoong’s hand closed around his wrist, halting his fall.

Hongjoong’s sudden cry surprised him as he swung, and he almost let go instinctively, but the clenching hand stayed firm. Seonghwa looked up. Blood was trailing from Hongjoong’s shoulder. The trail reached his hand and made it slippery for Seonghwa to hold on to.

“What— you got shot!” He remembered Junseok’s report. Hongjoong didn’t answer but gritted his teeth and scanned the debris for Yunho. “He’s over there, unconscious,” Mingi supplied, following his eyes. All four of them gasped as they realised Yunho’s soot-covered form lay directly in the path of debris that had just been loosened by Seonghwa’s jump.

Sweat broke out on Hongjoong’s forehead as he fought to keep his hold on the swinging Seonghwa, whose momentum was beginning to slow down.

“Stop trying to pull me up,” Seonghwa cautioned. “Down is the only way to go.”

“I can’t see the bottom,” Jongho reported, crawling to the edge of their platform and timidly peering through the decimated dungeon floor. A scraping sound from above startled him and Mingi had to pull him back. “What was that?”

The taller boy stood to his full height and craned his neck to see. “That’s the piano.”

“Oh no,” Hongjoong whispered as the gentle humming of the sliding piano above grew in volume.

“Let go!” Seonghwa yelled up to him. “It’s going to crush us!”

Hongjoong winced at him, still unsure, before taking a deep breath and releasing his grip. It was a rough landing, but Mingi and Jongho softened it, pulling him and Seonghwa onto their shrinking ledge.

Not a moment later the piano tipped over the side of the floor above them and slid stutteringly down the debris, headed straight for— “Yunho!”

Yunho was jolted awake by the presence of something very large inches from his face. Panting, he opened his eyes to discover himself in between the legs of a grand piano. He stifled a scream and turned his head to the side where the voices of the others were.

“I’m alive! I’m alive!” He reassured them. “But I have no idea how I’m getting out of here. My leg is pinned.”

Jongho steadied himself and made his way over with painstaking care, grasping the bottom of the instrument and trying to lift it high enough for Yunho to wiggle out. “Come on,” he grunted. “I’m not letting you lose your other leg.”

Yunho flopped over so that he was on his stomach and grabbed the piece of wall closest to him, trying to pull himself out. He had cleared his upper half when the entire surface suddenly began to move. The debris was all hurtling down now, in rockslide fashion, toward the chasm in the middle of the space. Yunho screeched and retracted under the piano as half of a sofa barely missed his head.

“Nobody move!” Mingi yelled from the other side of the growing hole. He was right, any movement would tip the precarious balance and send furniture and worse down on them.

“The only way is down,” Seonghwa repeated. “But there’s nothing there,” Jongho yelled back from where he squatted, trying not to move the piano he was lifting any more than he had. “I can hear water,” Yunho piped up, squinting into the abyss.

“If there’s water down there it has to exit somewhere,” Hongjoong thought out loud. “I say we jump. But let’s just try to stick together.”

Jongho nodded and, with a cautionary glance up for raining furnishings, gave the piano one final tug to release Yunho’s leg.

The second he was free, all five boys took a deep breath and plunged into the void.

...

“No it’s your fault, not mine! You let the hostage get away!”

“But you didn’t have to chase after him, too! You should’ve stayed with Junyoung!”

“Hey, I’m the one who caught the hostage. Admit it, I’m faster even if I am injured! You should’ve just let Junyoung go with Wooyoung!” The moment the words left San’s mouth, he faltered as if struck. “Go with Wooyoung... maybe he went with Wooyoung!” He made a beeline straight for the village but was stopped by Yeosang.

“Don’t!”

San turned and stared daggers at him, waiting for an explanation.

“We just got here,” Yeosang gritted out. “You’re still injured. Trust that Wooyoung will take care of him, and if you must go, then fine. But I’m not about to go back out there and risk losing our last chance to get off this awful island.”

His words struck a cord in San. Yeosang had a new edge to him and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it. It was true, they’d been stuck here for far too long. San was a man of action, he didn’t like sitting around waiting for someone else to solve their problem when he could be helping. But as much as he hated to be sidelined, he had to admit Yeosang had a point. He settled back down grudgingly.

“Fine. I’ll keep a lookout.”

...

The explosion at the Fortress had plunged the seaside town into further panic. Rioting villagers flooded from house to house with flaming torches raised, gathering more angry citizens to march with them to the wealthy slaveholders’ residences.

Wooyoung threaded his way through the masses as he followed the last traces of sunlight to the shoreline. His instinct to evade the problem and get himself to safety was conflicting with his worry over whether his crew was out of the collapsing building.

The others should all be at the ship already, right? They must have broken out with the crowd of prisoners that tore down the Fortress gates in their escape before the explosion.

Perhaps they were somewhere in this crowd with him. He began scanning the faces that blurred around him, but no one he recognised was anywhere in the vicinity. As he descended the hill of the main street one familiar pair of petrified eyes met his own.

“Junyoung!”

The boy didn’t hear him over the clamour of the citizens. Wooyoung pushed nameless figures out of his way, fighting to reach Junyoung. He was crouching at a street corner with no idea where to go. “Junyoung, what are you doing here?”

The boy startled but relief washed over his face when he realised it was Wooyoung’s arms pulling him up. “M-My father, I came to look for him.”

Wooyoung turned to search the crowd again. “Do you think he could be in this mob somewhere?”

“I haven’t seen him,” Junyoung’s voice was faint and scratchy with unshed tears.

“You should have stayed with San and Yeosang,” Wooyoung knew he sounded harsh but concern was gripping him.

“They took off to catch the hostage. But they won’t set sail until your Captain and the others come, will they? I think my father is still in the Fortress.” Junyoung reasoned, clearly terrified that his father could be under the sinking pile of rubble that was now the Fortress.

Wooyoung’s eyes swept the marina, just down the slope of the hill and easily within reach. The ATEEZ was docked and ready. He could return Junyoung there, to safety, in a few minutes. But if Junyoung was right, the rest of the crew wasn’t out of danger yet. Wooyoung chewed his lip a bit too roughly and tasted bitter blood on it. “Alright, let’s go back and find them. But stay close to me.”

...

Mingi came up spluttering in the darkness, hand closed around someone’s arm. “You can let go,” Hongjoong nudged him between coughs.

But the Captain was smaller and still shook with pain from his shoulder so Mingi wasn’t inclined to. “You’re not leaving us again.”

“Yunho?” Seonghwa threw his hair back as he surfaced. “Did Yunho get unpinned?”

Both Jongho and Yunho came up together and began treading water, as if in answer to the question.

“What is this place?” Jongho queried between gasps.

“Some type of underground pool,” Mingi suggested.

“The better question is why they built a fortress on top of it.” Seonghwa felt around in the water until he came to Yunho’s side.

“It’s impossible to see anything down here,” Yunho was complaining, struggling to hang on to Jongho and kicking the water with his good leg.

“Hold on to each other,” Hongjoong suddenly stilled and the others followed his lead. The gentle tug of a current emerged and they swam after it.

“Wait!” Hongjoong threw up his hand for them to halt. The scraping sound from earlier had returned. “Piano!”

The pianoforte, it seemed, had followed them in their journey down the wreckage, and with a thrum came crashing into the water where they were just about to swim. Hongjoong watched it sink, heart in his throat, and carefully moved forward. Ivory keys popped to the surface behind him.

“Well that was a close call!” Yunho whined from the back of the group. Mingi chuckled darkly. “We specialise in close calls.”

Thankfully, it wasn’t far to go before the underground pool gave way to land. It was the cold, harsh land of a cave, but the five boys lay on it panting in reprieve just the same.

Seonghwa checked Mingi’s forehead wound the best he could with only touch to rely on while the others collected themselves and inspected their surroundings.

“Something’s wrong,” Hongjoong breathed, mostly to himself. Water that hadn’t been around his feet a moment ago was now where his ankles were. “The water is still rising!” He informed the others.

Jongho joined him and listened intently to the sounds of the cave. “It’s pouring in from somewhere faster than it’s pouring out.”

Yunho had hobbled over as well. “We’ll be out of air if it continues for much longer at this rate.”

Seonghwa studied the section of cave they were in with his hands. “This was a secret passage,” he announced. “I was brought to the party through one like it. But it’s been blocked by rubble from the explosion. If we clear this, we may find a way out.”

It was enough of a chance for the crew, and they lined up to pass the chunks of stone from person to person and blaze their own escape trail. Mingi kept an eye on Hongjoong when the water rose to neck level, and helped keep his shorter frame afloat while juggling the debris that Seonghwa handed to him.

Fatigued muscles groaned, aching wounds protested, and stamina slowly depleted as rock after rock they dug their way to freedom. Soon enough the water was lapping at Jongho’s chin and he needed a leg up from Yunho to keep digging away at the blockage.

“I think we’re close,” he grunted through clenched teeth, feeling around in the dark for an opening between bricks. His hand fell on a loose rock, and he gave it a strong tug. That did the trick. “Watch out!”

All the members stepped back as stones rushed past them on their own, finally clearing the way for the stream of water to drag them out through the newly made hole with it. When they picked themselves up where the current dropped them, their hands were gripping grass. Mingi blinked at it.

“We’re out.”

Out.

They hadn’t seen the sky in days, nor felt the wind embrace them, nor smelled the sea. Violet and orange painted the horizon in a magnificent display. It brought tears to Mingi’s eyes to see liquid gold-tipped waves reflecting the village’s torchlight and stretching away as far as the eye could see.

The boys helped each other to their feet and took a nice long look at it, paying no mind to the chaos engaging the town that separated them and their ocean.

Hongjoong swallowed and pointed to the dock. The ship he had just finished building was up in flames, set ablaze by some mindless rioter with a torch. Anxiously he searched for his own vessel, and found it to be unharmed and fastened to a far corner of the marina. A real smile broke out on their faces as they began to walk towards it.

“Stop right there!”

It was the woman again. From the still intact balcony she had gripped while the Fortress collapsed, she pointed a gun at them. Jongho could tell she was at close enough range to make a lethal shot.

“Let’s strike a deal. Hongjoong stays to rebuild and the rest of you may go.” Seonghwa didn’t give him a chance to open his mouth, directly addressing the Master’s wife. “We’ve had enough of you and your cordial intent.”

She turned slightly and trained her sights on him. “No talking unless you’d like to get shot in the face. As I was saying, those are my conditions or you all die.”

“But they just got out!” It was Junseok, back from his errand staking the head in the centre of town. “They go free, that’s not a suggestion.” His gun was now pointed at the wife, and hers wavered between him and Seonghwa in despair.

They were at a standoff.

“Look, I don’t really know who you are or why you’re here,” Hongjoong began, locking eyes with the woman’s wild ones. “But you don’t belong here any more than we do. You don’t have to carry on the Master’s wishes. He’s dead now, that means you’re free too. Just like us.”

Her weapon began to lower as regret appeared on her face. “Put the gun down,” Hongjoong crooned. “You aren’t a slave anymore.”

“Father!”

It was Junyoung running up the path to meet them, and his temporary guardian Wooyoung trailing behind.

Everything happened lightning fast.

Junseok turned at his son’s voice, which startled the woman into discharging the gun. Two shots rang out, one bullet lodging in the back of Junseok’s head. And the other in the abdomen of his son.

No.

Wooyoung’s legs couldn’t carry him fast enough. He caught the dazed boy just before he hit the ground and checked the wound. It was bad.

Heart pumping furiously, he gripped Junyoung’s shoulders and begged him to stay with him. Junyoung furrowed his brow in confusion. The pain hadn’t kicked in yet. As he turned his head to see the motionless body of his father it dawned on him.

While the woman was distracted, Jongho scooped up Junseok’s weapon and fired a round at her hand. Her own gun clattered off the balcony, three stories down to the pointed rocks below. She watched it fall and looked with new eyes at the burning town in front of her.

Everything was on fire. Everything her husband had worked to create. It was the end.

She scooped up her skirts with one hand and used the other to climb onto the railing of the balcony.

“No, no, no, wait!” Hongjoong ran towards her. One look at her face told him what she intended to do. She shook her head and flashed her manufactured smile at him one last time. “You played beautifully, Hongjoong.”

The song had ended, and there was nothing left for her. “It’s over.”

She stepped off the balcony, and plummeted to the ground. Hongjoong squeezed his eyes shut from the view of the horror before him and stumbled back numbly.

The others had gathered around Junyoung to stop his bleeding, after trying to help Junseok and discovering he was already dead. If not for Jongho’s steadying hand on his shoulder, Wooyoung thought he would vomit there and then.

“Take me to the ship.”

Mingi delicately lifted the boy into his arms and began the procession to the ATEEZ, a long overdue march they had hoped would be under better circumstances.

Hongjoong avoided Seonghwa’s attempt to throw a comforting arm around him and moved to the front of the group, desperate for some space to process in.

The crowded streets parted down the middle and quieted into stillness for them as they made their way down to their frigate, heads bowing left and right at the sight of a young dying boy.

An ecstatic San emerged from the smoke to meet Hongjoong when they reached the dock.

“You need a haircut.” San smirked at him.

“Don’t start with me,” Hongjoong scowled but the facade was quickly shed as he grasped him in a hug.

“What’s going—” Yeosang looked past him at the sad procession following. “—on. Junyoung?”

Hongjoong nodded grimly. Yeosang forced down a shaky swallow, grief washing over his face. Mingi had the limp, but still breathing, body in his arms as he strode up the plank and onto the deck of the ATEEZ. “He’s been shot,” he informed Yeosang, in case he had missed it, grave voice like grinding stone.

“I can still hear you,” Junyoung whined. San gasped and dropped to his knees next to the boy as he was lowered onto the deck.

All eyes were on him as he executed a quick medical assessment. Making sure Junyoung wasn’t looking, he raised his head and shook it slowly.

“I’m going to die now, aren’t I.” Junyoung heard his answer in San’s silence and sighed almost wistfully. “I’m happy to be here regardless.” There were strained smiles all around the deck.

“Junyoung, do you—” Yeosang paused to clear his throat. “—do you know everyone?”

Junyoung furrowed his brow in thought. “You’re Yeosang, Wooyoung, San,” he nodded to each member. “And are you...Jongho?” Jongho nodded in surprise. Junyoung smiled, proud of himself. “I remember you’re the youngest, that was a guess. And...you’re Mingi? You have a deep voice!” The tips of Mingi’s ears turned red. “The rest, I don’t know,” Junyoung admitted before they all indicated themselves.

“Welcome aboard, Junyoung,” Hongjoong finished the introductions.

It was surprisingly calm. The riot had quieted to extinguished flame and settled citizens. Seagulls were cawing as they swooped low over short choppy crests which sparkled in the moonlight. An amiable breeze rocked the ship gently, its wooden skeleton creaking a familiar tune to all but one.

“So this is what it’s like?” Junyoung’s eyes were starry as ever, even as they filled with tears. He directed his question to Wooyoung, but the latter couldn’t risk opening his mouth and letting a sob escape.

“Yes, it’s...this is our ship,” he whispered, squeezing the boy’s hand. It was already growing cold.

“Let’s bring you to be near your father, Junyoung,” Mingi made a move to scoop him up but Junyoung shook his head slightly. “No, I want to be here. I’m getting off this island and sailing away like I always wanted.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to order for the anchor to be lifted but Junyoung was looking at him imploringly. “May I?”

Hongjoong flashed a phony grin and nodded.

“Loose the handsails...” Junyoung’s voice was just above a whisper. “Heave the capstan.”

All but Wooyoung and the Captain left to obey the orders and set sail. Junyoung’s gaze shifted from the unfurling sails to Wooyoung’s tear streaked face.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t want—” mangled words caught in his throat. “—I don’t want you to go, I mean you just got here, and...”

Junyoung’s smile faltered. “I’m afraid, too. But it’s alright, it’s just part of the adventure, isn’t it?” Wooyoung nodded swiftly. “Junyoung, you’re the bravest person I know. And I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

Junyoung’s bitter smile returned and he squeezed Wooyoung’s hand. “Commit me to the sea.”

“With highest honours,” Hongjoong agreed, before looking up at the receding shoreline. “We’re moving along nicely now. How do you like the wind in your hair, Junyoung?”

“I love it,” the boy answered, closing his eyes for the last time. Wooyoung sat there and looked at his face for a long while.

Long after the body had grown cold and the coast had shrunk behind them, Seonghwa helped him up and over to the railing so he could feel the wind on his face again. He wanted badly to be able to cry but part of him was still in disbelief that Junyoung was in fact dead and it was his body that Hongjoong and Mingi were wrapping in leftover cloth and preparing to send over the side.

He stood there, a mixed up bag of emotions sitting in his stomach, as the cannons fired a full salute and the body was committed to the sea. It was such a slight, lanky body.

And then he returned to Yeosang’s side because he knew he couldn’t sleep in their room without him. Yeosang was just sitting on deck and looking at the sky.

Stars burned in the heavens. They were distant pinpricks lighting the way, a map engraved in the sky to navigate by. They were the gateway to the possibilities in the east. Wooyoung saw Yeosang’s fond regard for the beacons and looked up himself, examining the heavens for answers. Finally, he spoke.

“I’m so full of thoughts and I just... I just don’t know how to say any of them.”

Yeosang nodded in his peripherals, quietly encouraging him. Wooyoung worked through what he wanted to say as it tumbled out. “Is it always like this? I mean, I know the world is a dangerous place, but... why does it seem like it’s always out to get us?”

It wasn’t at all what Yeosang expected to hear, so it took him awhile to gather his own thoughts. “Partially, I think it’s our own doing. For pushing the boundaries of the known world a little further everyday and daring to stand up to anything that opposes us. But, yes, the world is a dangerous place. And it doesn’t like being beaten by savage lowlife children like ourselves, so it makes itself even more dangerous.”

“We’re the only ones who know,” Wooyoung finally tore his eyes away from the sparkling show above them, tears slipping out of the corners. “How brave Junyoung was. We have to carry his legacy with us.”

Yeosang felt the prick behind his own eyes and grasped Wooyoung’s shoulder. “We will.”

He pulled him into a tight hug, and it lasted until the moon set and they mutually decided to go to sleep. Wooyoung couldn’t help but look over the side of the ship on the way to his near forgotten quarters.

Junyoung’s body was buried there in the graveyard of the sea.

...

Once the deck was empty and everyone was elsewhere, Jongho emerged and went to the crimson stain on the boards of the deck. He brushed his hand over it. Just like his dream.

The seeping blood, the fiery revolution, the thunderous chorus.

He sunk to his knees as the feeling of slipping through the endless bloody whirlpool returned out of his nightmare.

“It was Junyoung.” Yunho had snuck up on him somehow, despite owning a peg leg. Jongho didn’t look at him but nodded. “I didn’t know it was him. I just knew it would happen. Why do I have to be right?”

Hongjoong was putting his desk back in order in the Captain’s quarters. He hadn’t slept in his own bed since he had died in it and come back. Then he had been dragged off and kept away— away from his ship and his crew. He knew for sure that it wasn’t good for them to be apart. If there was one thing he took away from that horrible, horrible place it was that he would never let them be separated again, as long as they wanted to be together.

There was a knock at the door. It was Mingi’s knock, Hongjoong recognised it without an announcement. “Come in.”

Mingi entered and plopped down in a chair, simply sitting there and looking around for awhile. His head wound was all cleaned up and other than looking a bit spooked he seemed alright. But Hongjoong knew he wasn’t as fine as he let on.

“They both worked so hard to liberate their island. And they don’t even get to see it. Would it have been better if I kept my mouth shut? Would they be alive?”

Hongjoong finished making the bed and sat down across from Mingi. “Alive, perhaps, but enslaved for generations to come. I don’t know about you but I’d rather be dead and free than behind bars for the rest of my life.”

Mingi scratched at the surface of the desk with his fingernail. “The townspeople... will they hate us for leaving at a time like this? We started their revolution and now we’re just sailing away from it.”

Hongjoong sat back with a sigh. It did feel like running away, but the problem was never theirs to begin with. “We don’t belong here. There’s nothing more we can do and I’m done putting lives on the line.” There was a companionable silence after that. It seemed the carnage was over for now, and that meant moving on to new things.

“Our heading, Captain?” Mingi could barely contain his glee at being able to say those words again as he hopped out of his seat.

“I don’t care,” Hongjoong kicked his feet up on his desk and let his eyes fall shut. “Away from here. Let’s all just breathe uninterrupted for awhile.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

...

Taglist: @nightynightnyx @theinvisablessed @bustdownyunho @celestial-yunho

A/N: This was.... very hard to write. And I’m sorry if it was too heavy handed for you this time around. I wrote what I thought would be an appropriate end to this storyline given the characters’ arcs. Rest assured, there’s some time to breathe next chapter. Please send your thoughts and reblog as always <3

← Previous | Masterlist | Next →

46 notes · View notes