#whats the opposite of a cradle snatcher | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frickfracksnatchisback · 4 years ago

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If you'd be willing, could you do some hcs about smatcher & moonie who have a S/O who has ptsd, kinda similar to them, but from their biological mother? I see my mother a lot in Venessa, so I tend to mentally cling to snatcher n mj bc they remind me a bit of what I went through, I wish I could be there for them to help ease over the pain, yaknow?

Sure! I can understand having them as comfort characters! (But if you don’t mind, I won’t outright say the S/O’s previous abusive relationship and keep it very vague, that way it can be more inclusive. I’ll also throw in some extra HCs with Snatcher and Moonjumper dealing with their own trauma/PTSD) Also! Just a fair warning, I know nothing about this but I’ll try my best, so if any of these HCs seem insensitive please let me know and I’ll fix them right away! (Warning for mentions of abuse and past trauma under the cut!)

We all know that Snatcher is generally loud with his voice, even when speaking normally. However, if S/O tends to cringe at loud or heightened voices, Snatcher actually starts to become more quiet around them. He speaks softer, in hushed tones, and even when he’s angry or upset he reassures them that everything’s alright and that he’s not too mad at them. It’s rare to hear Snatcher speaking so normally, but if it comforts S/O then he’ll speak as quiet as he possibly can around them. And if S/O happens to be having a traumatic episode or a panic/anxiety attack? He will be especially quiet around them, showing the softer side of himself for once by holding them in his arms (if they don’t mind) and promising them that they’re okay and he’s here if they need him.

Moonjumper tends to be very clingy, wanting plenty of hugs and cuddles from S/O. But once he finds out that S/O is uncomfortable with sudden physical touch (after the giving them a surprise hug on accident), he makes a vow right then and there to always ask before even thinking about touching them again. If they say no, they’re not comfortable with that just yet, then he’ll be sure keep his distance while still giving them encouraging words and compliments. But if they say yes, he’ll be extremely gentle with them, hugging them so lightly he’s barely even touching them, or being very considerate when holding their hand, asking them again and again if they’re alright with what he’s doing before going any further.

Snatcher has a habit of sneaking up on people and scaring them as “pranks”, but with S/O it’s actually quite the opposite. They are the only one who he never does his normal routine with and/or tries to jumpscare (he made that mistake when he first introduced himself to them, and now he’s promised never to scare them like that again). He tends to tap their shoulders lightly and tries to announce himself before teleporting next to them or popping out of the ground randomly. It’s tough, because Snatcher really wants to be his normal, menacing self, but he puts their comfort first because he wants them to feel safer around him.

If S/O has depressive moments and/or deals with intrusive thoughts because of their PTSD, Moonjumper tries his hardest to encourage them and find ways to make them smile and feel happy. Like with a previous HC I mentioned, Moonjumper gifts them blankets, pillows, and/or plushies, but now he gives them to S/O whenever they’re in need of comfort or as a way to de-stress. If they’re okay with more physical affection, he’ll cradle them in his arms gently, telling them just how much he loves them and that they’re perfect just the way they are. And while he knows he can’t make their depression or intrusive thoughts go away completely, he will try his best to make sure they know that they are loved, despite what their brain tells them.

Now, with both Snatcher and Moonjumper, they tend to have nightmares about their trauma from the past. But if S/O has the same problem? They’ll both try to wake S/O up gently, making sure they’re alright and wiping the tears from their eyes if they’re crying. Neither Snatcher or Moonjumper will try to push, so S/O doesn’t have to tell them about the nightmare if they don’t want to, but they still hold S/O close, hushing and comforting them until they can fall back asleep again. If S/O has trouble falling asleep, however, Snatcher offers to read one of his law books to them and Moonjumper will offer to sing a lullaby for them. Neither of them will fall back asleep until S/O has, making sure they’re safe before doing so (they’re both ghosts, so sleep isn’t really necessary for them).

No matter who the person is that S/O has distanced themselves from (an abusive family member, a past lover, or even just a toxic friend), both Snatcher and Moonjumper promise S/O that they will both keep them far away from said individual(s) as possible. Both of them become very protect around S/O, even Moonjumper, and they reassure S/O that they will never let anyone hurt them ever again (even if no harm was actually done to S/O, they’ll still be protective of them and make sure they’re safe). Snatcher and Moonjumper also take note of things and tiggers that remind S/O of there past trauma, making sure to avoid the topics all together or help them through those issues, whichever it may be.

Snatcher & Moonjumper HCs:

During winter, Snatcher becomes very...distant, for obvious reasons. He doesn’t like the snow, ice, or the cold in general, because it reminds him too much of her. He’s very reclusive when this happens, refusing to go out into the cold at first. But, with a lot of convincing, S/O helps Snatcher overcome this, bringing him out into the snow slowly, hand-in-hand, showing them that there’s nothing to be afraid of. S/O might even convince him to have some fun playing in the snow; having a snowball fight with Hat Kid, Bow Kid, Mu, and even the Subconites, making snowpeople, snowforts, and snowangels. And when all’s said and done, Snatcher and S/O get to cuddle up close to one another, with some hot cocoa and a good book as the snow continues to fall outside. Snatcher mutters a quiet “thank you” to them, for helping him feel happy for the first time in years.

Moonjumper has a conditional sense of perfection, scolding himself whenever he thinks he’s not acting politely enough or even when he makes little mistakes (I bet you can guess where that came from). It gets so bad, to where when he really does mess up badly, he flinches at S/O sudden movements. It’s a reflex, as Vanessa used to slap the Prince across the face if he ever made her upset. And while he knows very well that S/O is nothing like Vanessa, and they would never hurt him, it still brings back some unpleasant memories and he apologizes to them for “not being good enough.” If S/O reassures him, telling him that he is enough and that he shouldn’t worry about trying to impress them, Moon will then embrace them, crying happy tears and saying how much he loves them over and over.

Snatcher has a similar thing like with Moonjumper, where he doesn’t like sudden or abrupt touches. If someone were to hug him or touch him suddenly, with no warning, he’d flinch, before calming down once he realizes there’s no danger (unless it’s someone he really doesn’t like, then they’d better run). It takes awhile for Snatcher to become used to physical contact, but it takes surprisingly less time with people he trusts, like S/O. He finds it very considerate when S/O asks him for permission before hugging him, holding his hand, and especially kissing him, liking how slow and patient they are with him. And when Snatcher displays some of his nervous habits, like fidgeting with his claws or grabbing at his wrists, he finds it comforting when S/O asks him what’s wrong and offers to cuddle him, which he gladly accepts.

(This HC is a bit more angsty, so fair warning) Moonjumper has scars that he, at first, hides from S/O. He has slash marks (ones that look eerily like claw marks) that adorn his chest, shoulders, arms, and thighs; white marks that stand out from his blue skin. No surprise here, they came from Vanessa (after she had turned monstrous) and he hides these scars because they bring back unpleasant memories of his time locked away in the basement... that, and he’s very self-conscious about them, fearing that S/O might find them disgusting. But when he finally does decides to show them, after S/O convinces him, he finds their reassurance heart-warming, with them showing empathy/sympathy for what happened to him and letting him know that he isn’t ugly or unattractive because of his scars.

Back to the nightmares HC, whenever Snatcher or Moonjumper wakes up from a nightmare, they usually wake up S/O in the process. With Moonjumper he’s immediately crying, curling up to S/O suddenly and hugging them tight, like he’s afraid they’ll disappear. With Snatcher, it’s rare to see him cry, and at first he’ll be defensive about it if S/O finds out... but eventually he’ll give into them trying to comfort him, holding them close and reluctantly asking for cuddles so he can calm down again. In both cases, both of the ghosts feel much better talking it out with S/O and having them in their arms, falling back asleep once they know they’re safe and, more importantly, that their S/O is safe.

Whenever they’re reminder of Vanessa, both Snatcher and Moonjumper act differently. With Snatcher, he becomes more distant and irritable, shutting himself down emotionally and keeping away from others. With Moonjumper, he becomes reminiscent and sorrowful, knowing that while he doesn’t love Vanessa anymore, little things still tend to remind him of her, so it’s hard for him to let go of the memories of what they once had. In both cases, it helps tremendously when S/O offers to comfort either Snatcher or Moonjumper. It will take plenty of time patience with Snatcher, as he normally pushes anyone away who even tries to bring up his past, but eventually he welcomes S/O help and kind words. And with Moonjumper, even he is reluctant to open up at first, thinking that his feelings are unnecessary or foolish, but when S/O offers to listen to him it’s a huge weight off his shoulders. In both cases, both ghosts make it clear to S/O just how lucky they are to have such an understanding soulmate, and that they’re so happy they gave love another chance.

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pain-somnia · 5 years ago

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Away From Home

Pairing: SasuSaku Rating: M (for sexual content) Prompt: time travel w/smut. (for those worried that it’s an adult with a teen, it’s not. That’s all I’m giving away) Disclaimer Day’s Notes: This was a piece that was commissioned through Patreon back in April. It wasn’t originally exclusive so I decided that it’s been 9 months so I will share this with you all.

Away From Home

There is a soreness in his lower back and a crick in his neck that has him worried to open his eyes.

He dreams often of home when on his mission, but the smile on his daughter’s face and the feel of his wife’s hands as they eased the kinks and knots of his muscles had been so real. He had smelled the fabric softener and felt the softness of the white bed sheets with the scalloped trim that Sakura favors. The detailed stitching brushing against his cheek is a sensation so strongly imprinted in his mind that it feels as though he had felt it only a mere hours ago not months.

Reaching to adjust his cloak to ward of the cold, he tucks his face into the collar and sighs. He detests being away but he is duty bound. Sasuke knows the dreams will only haunt him when he is idle for too long.

A crackle of a flame has his eyes opening wide. He never uses a fire at night when traveling alone. More alert now he recognizes the scent of smoke wafting about and absorbed into the material of his black cloak.

And he notices the way his hair brushes alongside his cheeks instead of resting against one side and brushing against the lashes of his left eye.

Sasuke has to blink excessively before he is able to focus on his surroundings. The clarity he usually had is gone and he has as much difficulty seeing as when—

No.

The blurry trio of sleeping bags and the long red hair poking out over the top of one is a sight he hasn’t seen in almost two decades.

It’s as he’s flexing fingers on a hand that he hasn’t had in over fifteen years that he recognizes that his chest is rising and falling at an alarming speed.

When was it that he last had a panic attack? When was it that he last had a panic attack without being able to turn and hold on to the small, soft body of his pink haired wife to ground him to reality?

Inhaling and holding his breath, Sasuke lets out his next exhale long and slow.

Oddities in his life are rare but nothing new, but suddenly finding himself in his teenage body is far more outside his realm of normality than rabbit goddesses and eye snatchers from the moon.

Settling into the flow of Team Taka is easier than it should be, but Sasuke was never much of a talker and it helps him pretend he isn’t a thirty-two year old man trapped in the body of a seventeen year old.

These versions of his former underlings haven’t noticed anything off about him yet but he knows it’s only time before he slips up.

It would be better to separate.

By the red clouds on his cloak and his blindness he can pinpoint when in time he’s supposed to be. Team Taka is meant to hunt down the Hachibi but Sasuke isn’t his young self lost in the darkness. He not only doesn’t want to hunt down the Hachibi but he also knows how it all plays out and doesn’t care to repeat history.

He will have to walk a path parallel to the one of his past so that he doesn’t disrupt the course of events that lead up to his future. As much as he would rather abandon everything and return home, there may be consequences to that decision.

There is one decision he must make to change the course of events. It will buy him time as he avoids hunting the Hachibi and it would be best for himself and to prevent an outsider from taking what belongs to his brother.

The order was wrong, but it was time to claim his inheritance.

Having the procedure done a second time, Sasuke was more alert this time around during his healing process. There are no dark thoughts clouding the corners of his mind as he plans.

This is another moment he wishes Sakura were with him. His brilliant wife would have healed him and fixed any errors left behind by the crude surgery. She would be able to come up with theories as to how he found himself in such a predicament. He can only hope that she is safe with their daughter in the distant future and that he hasn’t had any missteps that would erase their family’s future.

As much as he doesn’t want to hunt down the Hachibi there is still one man he will have to take care of again. Sasuke will have to be smarter this time around, less controlled by the hatred that had consumed him in his old life.

Loud voices and hissed insults outside of his bedroom has him snuggling into his futon until only the spikes of his hair can be seen poking from the top of his blankets. He doesn’t wish to know what it is Karin is doing that has her fighting with their comrades.

Sasuke longs for the quiet of his home even more during his recovery. Aches for the breeze drifting in through the open windows of his house and the smell of garlic and shallots filling the air as Sarada and Sakura’s chatter wraps a soothing buzz around his brain and down his spine.

He can’t afford a single misstep. He’ll find his way to Sakura again in the future—of this he’s confident—but he can’t lose their Sarada.

He drifts into a troubled sleep and dreams of hues of pink and red and of a girl’s distant laughter, always cutting away when he’s just within reach.

It’s a color he could never mistake and a voice he yearns for on quiet nights after days of of inaction.

There are others with her but who they are he doesn’t care. It’s always been like this. He hears her, sees her, before all others. Once that had been something he would vehemently deny, keeping those stray thoughts encased in the deep recesses of his mind, but he isn’t his seventeen year old self━no matter his appearance━and home is a flash step away.

“Konoha shinobi,” Karin warns. “Three klicks but heading west in the opposite direction. Easily avoidable.”

“You couldn’t have said something earlier?” Suigetsu scoffs. “You have one job and you can’t even do that right.”

“Shut up!” Karin seethes. “Sasuke-kun knows I would have said something if I was told to keep alert for them.”

With just a glance, Sasuke has them silencing. He nods his head in the direction he wants them to take and the three of them take off without him.

Home is running in the opposite direction. Three kilometers turns into four which turns into five and then six. And so on she keeps running, not even knowing how much he wants to be running to her.

He can hear them whispering. Even Jūgo is becoming skeptical of his plans. They have been moving and moving, constantly moving without making any effort to hunt down the Hachibi despite the orders given from his elder cousin Obito masquerading as their ancestor.

“Are you sure?” He hears Suigetsu muttering to Karin from his spot above them all in the forest canopy.

“I’m positive. We’re going in circles. Just as we’re getting closer I can feel him leading us away and…”

“And?”

“Something’s...different about Sasuke-kun. He doesn’t feel the same. His chakra is different. It’s like it’s not the Sasuke-kun we know.”

“Is it because of that surgery?”

“No...it’s been like that since before...just one day he woke up and he was different.”

Whatever Suigetsu responded with was lost to Sasuke as he closed his eyes and shut their voices out.

He didn’t necessarily need them anymore but the three of them had nowhere to go currently. In the future they crawled back to Orochimaru but at the moment he is still dead. And with the war approaching they would need as many allies and Taka did their part in assisting in his old life.

Sasuke will have to find a reason to get away from his team to avoid anymore suspicion.

He’s on his own for a bit. Sasuke always needs his space from his teammates and before they used to be wary of him, but now they’re wary for another reason all together.

He’s Sasuke but he’s not their Sasuke. He’s a Sasuke only a select few know and Team Taka never had this Sasuke. Karin has witnessed small increments but this Karin isn’t the Karin that was covered to her elbows in blood, cradling his premature daughter to her chest. This Karin doesn’t know it yet, but he is in debt to her for helping his wife and child.

He owes her more than she knows. But that hasn’t happened yet and he just wants distance, space away from her calculating eyes. She can see the way his chakra moves, feel the missing heaviness of how imposing it once was.

And he can’t allow that to be his undoing. He could handle it if Karin were to confront him but he couldn’t handle it if the confrontation led him to losing his future.

So Sasuke runs.

He takes the first chance he gets to split from the rest of Taka. Makes an excuse so that they split ways for a period. They have Karin and she can track him when they need to meet up again.

Being on his own again, Sasuke is reminded of the time during his redemption journey. Although he stands shorter than when he stepped out alone for the first time, he is seeing the world through clearer eyes and a free heart.

Sasuke finds himself sleeping often, a habit from when he went searching for himself. When the warm breeze rustled through the grass and the scent of the oak trees traveled with the wind, Sasuke was reminded of home and his thoughts would become muddled. Sleep was a reprieve from the confusing ache in his chest.

Now sleep is a curse. The weariness of his eyes as they drooped haunts him. For sleep cannot give him what he wants.

A promise that when he wakes up everything would have been just a dream. And that he would be home again.

It takes Sasuke a moment to remember to breathe.

It was already a coincidence that they had crossed paths once before, that he had caught a glimpse of her so soon before…

Before the time he had seen her in his timeline━his real timeline━and almost lost the future he is missing now.

His eyes are wide open and he is seeing the world with such clarity. How many times did he miss her before? How many times did he miss her when his vision was clouded with his hunt for justice?

He draws in the breath his lungs have been screaming for and it’s with that inhale that Sakura skids to a stop.

Eyes so green, so seafoam green, narrow and scan the perimeter. Short, choppy hair rustles with the slight movement of her head as she searches in his general direction. Sasuke can almost see the calculations circling in her mind.

She knows someone’s there. He can make a run for it, use his greater speed as an advantage. It would be the wise thing to do. The strong thing to do, for he knows that the gravitational pull his wife has on him even━before she’s aware she has any pull on him at all━is something he is weak against.

It is why he left home at twelve. It is why he stayed away.

Sasuke is very good at doing his duty. It’s what kept him on his mission for so long, it’s what had him on his mission without coming back home until it was done.

But he is tired and sleep has been bad and all he wants is that look━the look that Sakura gets on her face when she sees him, eyes wide and lips parting as if she’s seeing something splendid for the first time.

It’s greedy and selfish, but he’s sacrificed years in one lifetime and weeks in another. The universe can forgive him for a few seconds.

Purposefully he takes a step on a twig on the forest floor, one that alerts Sakura to his exact location. He just needs to wait for that look, that one look of astonishment, and he’ll take off.

“Sasuke-kun!” Sakura gasps, but before he can pivot and flee, she’s already taking a step back.

Curious, he halts his movements and watches as she digs her teeth into her lower lip and her eyes drift from him to the direction she had been heading toward before he had distracted her.

That’s...peculiar.

He is right in front of her—not moving now that he’s observing her—and she isn’t pleading with him to go back home with her.

Sasuke understands that she may be wary of him, unsure of how he would react, but Sakura isn’t one to shy away when it comes to her feelings so her silence is unnerving. He had been expecting her to shout out, not to act with trepidation.

Sasuke edges forward, sliding one foot along the soil, moving slowly as if approaching a doe. He waits for a reaction but Sakura just stares and stares.

He takes off, using a sequence of flash steps to create distance. He didn’t expect Sakura to be able to predict his movements but a tugging at the rope belt he uses to tie his cloak to his body has him skidding to a stop and redirecting his path.

“Sasuke-kun!”

He can’t look back. If he looks back he’ll break and forget that he has a responsibility to keep the timeline on its course. There is no telling if he will wake up back at home and face consequences for any disruptions he may have caused.

“Sasuke-kun,” Sakura continues to cry after him, trailing closer after him than he anticipated her sixteen year old self to be able to.

His mind offers a flash of Sakura dodging quick attacks during the fourth great war and then of her sucker punching Shin with his body covered with activated mangekyou sharingan, despite her off roster status due to being the director of the hospital.

“Anata!”

Fumbling a flash step, Sasuke trips up and skids across the forest floor, catching himself with his hands digging into the earth. Sakura catches herself on the trunk of a tree, using chakra to anchor herself instead of skidding along the forest floor like Sasuke. Green eyes go wide in fear as she continues to watch him, body poised and ready to make a run for it. Her body is tense as she anticipates a violent reaction from him.

Activating his sharingan, Sasuke scans every inch of her and looks for a sign, any sign that she could be━

“Tsuma?”

The endearment has barely left his tongue when Sakura throws her body at him, tackling him to the ground in one of her strong embraces.

“It’s you, it’s you!” She sobs into his chest, soaking his top with her tears.

Sasuke places a hand on her back and rubs soothing circles, letting her find comfort in releasing weeks worth of stress.

Sasuke doesn’t need to hear the lecture. It’s in his wife’s scowl as she sends pulses of her soothing chakra to his temple, healing the scarring from the surgery his cousin had performed to implant Itachi’s eyes. It’s the same scars she healed for him while he was in the hospital after his battle with Naruto.

She doesn’t reprimand him as he pulls her closer to straddle his lap. The closer she is, the more real it feels that she’s really with him.

Sakura had been in her sixteen year old body for the same amount of time he had been back in his seventeen year old body. She had told him of how she woke up one morning convinced she had dreamt he had returned for good, only to realize she was in a smaller body, in a much smaller bed, back in her bedroom in her parents’ house.

Sasuke scoffed at the comment of a smaller body. She had only grown a few more centimeters by the time she had reached adulthood. It is true though that she is no longer fuller at the hips and had lost the bust she developed after pregnancy━even the one she developed toward the end of puberty, but he isn’t going to mention that he had been watching her more closely than he should.

He remembered the shock of standing up and realizing he had lost over half a foot of his own height and although he was still muscular it was nowhere near the muscle mass of his adult body.

And then there was the issue of balance since he no longer needed to compensate for the missing limb.

“Do you think anyone else was sent back in time?” Sakura asks him as she examines him further, unzipping his top and brushing the pads of her fingers along still healing scars.

“Definitely not Naruto. He wouldn’t have the sense to keep it a secret.” Sasuke drags his nose up the line of Sakura’s throat. She smells mostly of sweat, dirt, and grass, but just underneath is her own unique scent.

Sasuke slides his hands under her medic apron, fingers edging along the hem of her tight shorts.

“What—,” Sakura narrows her eyes at him, cutting off her flow of chakra, “—what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Sasuke answers as he cups her pert backside with both hands.

“We’re in a forest,” Sakura protests.

“That wouldn’t be new for us,” Sasuke counters.

“We’re in a forest, I’m sixteen, and you’re a missing nin,” is Sakura’s rebuttal. Despite her protests, she reaches for his rope belt and tugs it undone.

“Physically,” Sasuke continues to counter, “but spiritually we are━”

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me, you opportunist.”

Sakura holds his face in her small hands and initiates their first kiss━a minor change from their original timeline. Sasuke sits her in his lap and bites on her lower lip, pulling it into his own mouth as he proceeds to deepen the kiss.

Sasuke isn’t ignorant of the fact that he now has the advantage of two hands. He can touch his wife without the assistance of any jutsu. Although the observation doesn’t stop him from using his teeth to unzip her top. His hands are too busy pulling off her shorts and underwear.

As close as they are, they’re not close enough and he needs to correct that.

“Don’t rip through my shorts,” Sakura warns him, clutching his shoulders with enough force he’s sure she added chakra to her hold, a promise of repercussions if he damages her clothing.

Sakura’s gasp is barely heard over the sound of her mesh tank top being torn in half with only the use of Sasuke’s teeth. No one ever sees her undergarments so it’s an article of clothing that has no import, something that Sasuke is aware of and pays no mind to her grumbling as he drags his tongue up her sternum.

Her irritation melts into a soft sighs as he presses open mouth kisses to her clavicle. He grabs her waist with his hands, distracted by how tiny it is as he brushes his thumbs lightly around her belly button.

“Sasuke-kun…” Sakura murmurs as he sinks his fingers into her warm, wet center. He gets to work on stroking her with one hand and helping her remove her shorts and underwear with the other.

Two hands really were more efficient.

Sakura’s moans roll into his mouth as she grinds her hips against his hand. She had been too engrossed in the feeling of his fingers thrusting in and out of her core to worry about removing her medic-nin apron. Sasuke wants it on during their encounter.

Barely covering anything at all, Sasuke didn’t get a chance to appreciate her little apron when he really was seventeen. It is short enough and the slit just high enough that he can watch the way Sakura’s pink curls brush against the heel of his palm.

As Sakura grinds her hips against his hand, she braces herself by gripping his shoulders. The position they’re in makes it easy for Sasuke to wrap his lips around a pebbled nipple. He uses his other hand to press against her lower back in order to support her as she bucks against him, legs trembling.

As her inner muscles start to spasm around his fingers, Sasuke pulls them out. Sakura cries out at the loss and throws a glare at him, eyes watering from the frustration.

“I was close!”

“Yeah, I know.”

Sakura pouts so cutely he should feel bad about depriving her the release she was edging toward but he doesn’t. He just pulls his cloak out from under him and spreads it out on the forest floor.

“Come here,” Sasuke murmurs, tugging at her wrists to draw her closer. “And take off your shirt.”

Sakura barely shrugs her red top off and Sasuke is already pushing her down on to the cloak. He wastes no time in pushing her thighs apart and opening her folds once again. He’s careful to avoid the bundle of nerves that would throw her over the edge now that she is sensitive from the earlier stimulation.

“You’re doing it again,” Sakura whines, wiggling her hips in an attempt to get him where she wants him.

“What am I doing?” Sasuke feigns ignorance, pretending to be too concentrated on his task.

“Sasuke-kun. I’m not going to be the only one naked outside again.”

Sasuke frowns at the statement but doesn’t refute it. Their encounters outdoors usually ended up with Sakura losing every article of clothing while he only tugged his pants low enough to free himself from the confines.

Sasuke shrugs but in a gesture of mock solidarity he removes his shirt and tosses it to the side. He quirks an eyebrow at her and hesitantly she relaxes underneath him.

Now that she’s more willing to be compliant, losing the tension in her body, Sasuke swipes at her clit. He rubs at it with his thumb as he strokes her folds and places kisses down the valley between her small breasts and lower until he reaches her navel.

Dipping his tongue in her belly button, he sucks at the flesh there before making his way down lower and lower, past the thatch of pink curls, and flattens his tongue against where she’s hottest and drags it nice and slow before flicking Sakura’s hardened nub with the tip of his tongue.

A sharp pain at his scalp alerts him to Sakura’s fingers clutching at his hair and yanking it as he pulls the nub between his lips and rolls his tongue around it, alternating between soft suckles and hard suction that has her thighs trembling around his head.

Sasuke groans against her folds and Sakura’s body tenses up as his name tumbles weakly out of her mouth in a soft cry of relief.

Sasuke continues to lap at her core, flicking her clit in the upstroke. When Sakura tries to sit up he hooks his arms around her thighs and place his hands on her hips to keep her still. Using her sensitivity from the last orgasm he guides her into a second one and then rolls it into a third.

Sakura’s pulling his hair so hard at this point he’s glad that she is unable to concentrate on anything else but the feel of his tongue. If she could focus she would gather her chakra and attempt to pull him off of her. With the way she was yanking she could probably scalp him with her bare hands in her flustered state with the use of chakra.

By the time he’s done teasing her, Sakura is struggling to fill her lungs, unable to catch her breath through her pants. As she’s coming down, chest slowing down in its rising, Sasuke sits up on his knees and pulls her lower half so that her legs are spread across his lap.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he strokes her thigh soothingly as her eyes blink back into focus. She nods and grasps his hand, interlocking their fingers.

“I want to touch you too.”

Sakura pulls his hand up and presses kisses to the pads of his fingers, drawing them into her mouth. Sasuke’ mouth runs dry as she sucks on them. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she slides his index and middle fingers in and out of her mouth, her tongue wrapping around them.

“Next time,” Sasuke chokes out, reluctantly removing his hand from her hold as he pulls himself out of his pants. He gives himself two quick strokes, using the slickness from Sakura’s sucking to lubricate himself before guiding his cock into her entrance.

Slow and steady, Sasuke pushes in, groaning as he sinks deeper into Sakura’s slick heat. Looking up at Sakura’s face he cocks his head to the side, not sure why her lips are parted and eyes glimmering in awe.

“So that’s what you would have looked like…” she says softly.

Smirking down at his wife, Sasuke groans again purposely as he pulls out and thrusts back in as deeply as he can fill her.

The awestruck expression falls from Sakura’s face as she gasps from the sudden fullness. Sasuke stills inside her, feeling her inner muscles contracting around him as she adjusts to his size. As soon as she lifts her hips to move underneath him, Sasuke begins a steady pace of thrusts, gripping her hips with both hands to anchor her to him.

As familiar as he is with what his wife likes, his young body isn’t accustomed to being inside her and he is hypersensitive to the sensation. He can feel his release rapidly approaching, much sooner than he’d like.

Pulling out, he maneuvers Sakura’s body so she’s on her stomach. Following his lead, Sakura braces herself on her hands and knees and spreads her legs for him. Sasuke sinks back in and Sakura cries out, feeling him even deeper than before.

It’s a position Sakura prefers and that he gladly puts her in due to the increase in her sensitivity. He settles himself into the even pace from before, not trying to cum before he’s ready. Sasuke takes a finger and drags it down the curve of Sakura’s spine, feeling her flutter around him from the act.

Sasuke drops his head in the crook of her neck and drags his nose across her nape. Dropping kisses between her shoulder blades, Sasuke bites down on her shoulder and Sakura cums again, squeezing him tight and forcing his release out of him. Sasuke pulls her hips tight against his and grinds into her as spills himself inside of her. He collapses on top of her, chin resting on her shoulder. Sakura slowly drops to the ground and nudges him gently off of her as they sprawl out on the cloak.

Sasuke takes a deep breath and pulls Sakura closer so that her back is pressed against his chest. He hooks his arm around her waist and pillows her head with his other arm. Pressing his nose against the top of her head, he breathes in the smell of home. Sweaty and hidden behind the smell of earth, it lies there in the strands of Sakura’s hair.

Sakura had shrugged on his shirt when they gathered their things and relocated to a bank of a stream to wash up. The sight of their crest on her back is a small comfort but the news Sakura gave him as they laid on the forest floor had put a damper on his mood.

“Sasuke-kun,” his wife calls back his attention as she hangs up the newly washed cloak to dry. “What are you going to do now?”

Sakura was on her way to rendezvous with her team when she had ran into him. Luckily she was ahead of schedule due to already having the information she needed from the mission in the past. Sasuke hadn’t sidetracked her as she was using the extra time to be on her own. She had found it unsettling and tiring when she was with people. The stress of pretending and trying not to disrupt the timeline had been getting to her.

She was just as stuck as Sasuke and the only theory she could come up with was the rinnegan which was ruled out as soon as the thought crossed her mind. The rinnegan traveled dimensions not time.

Waiting around and playing out the rest of the events wasn’t something Sasuke wanted to do. There were other ways to get what he wanted.

“And I really don’t wanna celebrate Naruto’s birthday this time with the two of you blowing each other’s arms off,” Sakura jokes as he drags a hand down his face in embarrassment.

“That’s not happening this time.”

“Then what is happening this time?” Sakura slides her hand down his left wrist, settling her palm against his until he takes hold of it and interlocks their fingers.

“This time,” Sasuke breathes before granting her a soft smile, “this time, I come home. And stay.”

“And you stay.” Sakura nods, beaming up at him. Her smile fades and her brows furrow. “And Sarada?”

“We can be careful, do some calculations…” Sasuke rubs his thumb on the back of her hand. “She was ours once. She can be again. We’ll try.”

“We can try,” Sakura agrees.

“But for now,” Sasuke tugs on her hand, drawing her closer, “let’s go home.”

#sasusaku #ss fanfiction #day!fics

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orientalonehphm · 6 years ago

Text

The End of the Mystery: Part 7 - A Time to Grieve and a Time to Fight

Summary: Time is running out for the gang as they try to hold off the evil army yet again. But with the evil Lee parents leading the charge, how long can they last?

Notes: Here's part 7 at last, apologies again for the long absence, university is keeping me busy but I will finish this story!

Warnings: Angst, Violence

A deep quake shook through the hallway as the gang turned to the sound of a muffled bang.

“They’ve broke through the gate. It’ll only be a matter of time before they reach us” Bill announced to the group as he felt the rubble for any loose parts. “We can keep the fight here, bottleneck them in this corridor” The ginger curse-breaker paused when he looked at all the dejected faces of his friends. Fleur placed a hand on his arm as she looked from the rest of the gang to her husband, her face plastered with worry. “Guys...” Y/N looked up towards Bill.

“Sorry Bill, just give us a minute...” Y/N soothed Penny as she wiped a tear from her eye. The Gryffindor leader looked over to Barnaby who continued to cradle Andre’s body in his arms, his tears falling onto the seeker’s stained uniform.

“We don’t have a minute...” The gang looked to Bill, their faces startled for a moment. “I’m sorry everyone, I know we lost a good man today and there’ll be time to grieve...but right now we have to get ready” The Weasley brother knelt down beside Andre’s body. “Andre wouldn’t want us to fall now, not after this...” He stood once more, drawing out his wand. “Voldemort’s not going to stop, that army out there are coming through here and it’s our job to keep them off the rest of the school’s back.” Rowan put their glasses back on and nodded to Bill.

“He’s right” They looked to Y/N who looked sadly between Rowan and Bill before rising up off the floor.

“Okay...” They sniffed as they recomposed themselves. Penny wiped away a tear as she followed suit. “We mourn later” Y/N turned to Barnaby. “Take Andre further into the school, I want him to be safe” They placed their hand on the dead man’s face as they caressed his cheek, giving Andre a final goodbye before Barnaby turned to head down the corridor.

“Alright then, let’s move some of the spare debris to make some cover. This hallway’s going to be a bottleneck, it’ll be easy to keep them in front of us but then again they’ve got a lot more numbers then us” Bill stated as he levitated some rocks towards one side of the corridor. Tulip pulled out her pair of sunglasses from her jacket pocket. She frowned as she saw one of the lenses had shattered. The red-head ungracefully threw them to one side as she joined Bill in preparing the corridor. It took no time at all until the corridor was fortified. Piles of rubble scattered along the corridor walls acted as cover for the brave defenders. Another large rumble through the castle alerted the gang towards the barricade.

“They’re almost here” Penny said, speaking in a low voice.

“How many more potions have you got left Pen?” Bill asked, stepping closer to her. Her eyes were slightly red from crying, her cheeks still damp. She looked down onto her belt and checked her satchel.

“Only...ahem” The blonde potioneer cleared her throat. “Only a few more”

“We’re low on numbers too, a lot of students got injured out there. There’s only a dozen or so left...” Tulip stated, looking back to some of the weary students. Y/N crouched down by a male student, who held his own leg in pain, blood dripped down onto the floor.

“This may hurt a bit...” Y/N drew out their wand and tapped it against his leg. “Ferula” With a wisp, bandages appeared from Y/N’s wand and wrapped themselves around the boy’s leg. With a sigh of relief, the student looked up at the auror.

“Thank you” Y/N placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before allowing him to be carried away by another student. They watched as the two students limped down the corridor before spying Barnaby heading his way back towards them. He stopped in front of Y/N, standing with them in the middle of the T-junction in the corridor.

“Is he safe Barnaby?” Y/N asked as the tall Slytherin caught his breath.

“Yeah...he’s safe...got him hidden in a classroom. No death eater’s gonna check there...” Barnaby looked at Y/N’s sad expression. “He fought bravely” Y/N nodded.

“I know, I just...he’s gone Barnaby...and he might not be the only one by the end of the night. Any one of us could go and I can’t bare the idea of my friends dying” Tears were forming in Y/N’s eyes. Barnaby quickly wrapped his arms around Y/N, enveloping them in a hug.

“We are all here because we chose to be here. We all knew the consequences. Andre knew the consequences. But we also know why we face those consequences. We remember what we’re fighting for. Andre wouldn't want us to stop.” The soothing Slytherin let go of Y/N, looking down at them. Y/N wiped the tears from their eyes and let out a long sigh

“I know...thanks Barnaby” Barnaby Junior poked out from its hiding spot and looked up at Y/N, making a squeaking sound. “You’re a very brave bowtruckle” Y/N chuckled as they wiggled their finger at the small woodland creature. Barnaby paused, staring at the rubble blockade to his right.

“Y/N, there’s something I should tell you...about the fight” Y/N looked curiously at the magizoologst.

“What is it Barnaby?”

“The two death eaters I was fighting, the two you saved me from...the one that killed Andre, he was...” A loud bang interrupted Barnaby. Everything happened so suddenly. A bright spell impacted the wall between them. Sparks rained down onto them. Bill’s yells seemed muffled and his arm seemed to wave in slow motion. Barnaby felt pressure on his chest as Y/N pushed him backwards. The world returned to normal once he was against the wall, his breathing heavy. Small stones chipped off the walls as spells continued to miss their targets. Y/N flicked their wand around the corner before swinging round to face Barnaby.

“Are you okay Barnaby?” They seemed to be yelling over the loud sounds of battle.

“Yeah...sorry I was caught off-guard” The Slytherin looked down at the wand in his hand, he didn’t even remember drawing it out.

“It’s okay, the bloody death eaters got through, almost got a lucky shot on us” Barnaby crawled round to the corner, peering to see the fight. Tulip and Penny stood towards the front, efficiently disabling the oncoming attackers from the safety of their small walls of cover, stunning them as they attempted to run at them. The evil forces had little cover, only relying on the small hole they had made in the barricade, forcing a few snatchers and death eaters in at a time. Bill crouched down by a barrier a few feet back from the front. His aim impeccable as he assisted the defence. Ben crouched down next to him, his face plastered with fear as he peered up from the barrier, attempting to get a shot off. Rowan and Fleur assisted some of the students who were also caught off-guard. Rowan held up their hands, casting a protective spell to shield Fleur as she helped students retreat out of sight. Barnaby watched as the old Beauxbaton helped a student hobble into the corridor opposite him.

“Come on Barnaby, they need our help” Y/N stood up but paused as Barnaby stood up, blocking them.

“Wait Y/N, I need to tell you. The man that killed Andre...he was my father” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“We...we fought your parents?!” Y/N shouted in shock. Barnaby gulped unsteadily.

“We’re fighting my parents” A yell from the corridor caused the two to spring into action. Running around the corner, Y/N slid towards Rowan’s side as Barnaby fired a spell at an attacker near Penny.

“Rowan! You alright?” Y/N asked as Rowan held their shoulder. The professor peered under their hand at their smouldering shoulder.

“Yeah just nicked me, no harm done” Their robe was singed at the shoulder. Rowan gave them a weak smirk, telling them not to worry too much. Y/N returned the expression.

“I’m getting overwhelmed here!” Tulip shouted back, fury on her face. She flicked her wand at a snatcher, his body flew back through the hole in the wall, knocking into some of the other minions. “Cover me!” The red-head ran backwards quickly as Penny and Bill gave her some covering fire. She rolled back down next to Barnaby’s cover. She huffed, looking at him. “It’s crazy up there!” She laughed slightly, her hair looked unkept and manic.

“Not to be negative but it seems like we’re already losing this fight” Barnaby stated as he launched another spell down the corridor.

“You’re not wrong” Tulip responded, looking around at their battle. “There’s just so many of them.” An explosion down the corridor silenced them. Bill covered his eyes as a cloud of dust drifted past him. Through the cloud appeared two death eaters, standing in the now bigger hole in the wall. A man and a woman smirked evilly at them. Their eyes landed on Barnaby.

“Hello son” Mr Lee said, his deep voice boomed through the hallway. Barnaby stood up into view, his grip tightening on his wand.

“I’m not your son anymore” The Slytherin stated boldly. His mother chuckled.

“No, I suppose you’re not, you’re a waste. You are all a waste” Mrs Lee crept slowly forward, her eyes meeting each of Barnaby’s friends. “Such talented wizards and witches, such strong magic courses through your veins. All wasted on filthy mudbloods and ill-placed faith.” Ben looked down, a mix of anger and sadness filled him. “All your efforts, all the struggle, it gets you nowhere. You’re just another obstacle for the dark Lord, your time shortens and you waste your last few moments fighting such a futile cause. It’s meaningless. This battle is meaningless. Your efforts are meaningless. YOU ARE ALL MEANIN...” A blast of light impacted against her chest as she flew backwards. Mr Lee watched in shock as his wife was knocked backwards. He quickly rushed to her side. The defenders looked back behind them. The sound of a pair of footsteps echoed through the silent hall as a woman held her wand up. Her pink hair shined like a beacon of hope. She smiled warmly to her friends.

“Wotcher gang” Tonks said, smiling cheekily. Her friends looked at her with a mix of shock and happiness.

“GET THEM!” Mr Lee’s booming voice echoed once again and the corridor snapped back into action. Spells barraged down the hall, prompting Tonks to take cover next to Tulip.

“I can’t believe your here!” Tulip gave Tonks a quick hug. “What about Teddy?” She looked sadly at the metamorphmagus for a moment.

“He’s safe with my mother. I just...I couldn’t stop thinking about Remus and all of you. This is where I belong. Fighting alongside you all.” Tonks gripped Tulip’s hand, squeezing it softly, prompting her to smile at her.

“Well it’s good to see you Tonks!” Y/N shouted from the other side of the corridor, Rowan waved at her nonchalantly.

“Good to see you too Y/N!” Tonks shouted back, a spell impacted on the wall above them, raining a bit of rubble onto them. “Have you seen Remus? I’ve been trying to find him, I heard from Aberforth that he was seen fighting Dolohov!”

“We saw him before the battle begun but we’ve been defending this entrance since then” Barnaby replied, firing his wand down the corridor once again.

“I need to go find him” Bill looked back towards her, listening into her conversation.

“Then go get him! We’re fine here!” The ginger Weasley shouted back to her, giving her a confident smile.

“But you don’t have nearly enough numbers to face them” Tonks nodded towards the dark army.

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean we're going to give up!” Penny shouted, chucking a potion towards the death eaters. The potion impacted onto the floor and a cloud of green enveloped some of the horde. Coughs and sputters erupted from the opposing force as more fell.

“Tonks” The pink-haired Hufflepuff met eyes with Y/N. “Go” Their smile was comforting and warm. She smiled back.

“Okay, good luck” As she swiftly crawled away. She felt a presence follow her. Turning she found her red-headed friend. “Tulip? What are...”

“I’m coming with you”

“No, you should stay and help them!”

“And leave you alone in this war? No, not a chance” Tonks looked worriedly at her. “Look, we find Remus and bring him back here, then we can give these guys more reinforcements” Tulip explained. Tonks’ expression softened.

“Okay” She whispered. “Let’s be quick” The two bounded off down the corridor, with hopes of finding Tonks’ dear husband.

Part 6 <- -> Part 8 (Coming Soon)

#hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery fanfic #penny haywood #rowan khanna #ben copper #bill weasley #nymphadora tonks #tulip karasu #barnaby lee #andre egwu #fleur delacour #battle of hogwarts

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imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch · 7 years ago

Text

I Love You, You Pay My Rent: Chapter 18

First Chapter (Prologue)

Previous Chapter (Chapter 17)

Nico had been living with Will for well over ten weeks which he would have been smugly gloating to Jason about if he wasn’t feeling so antagonistic about whatever the hell it was Jason had against Will. So, with Jason out of the equation, against all odds it was Percy who ended up being the supportive one when it came to Nico facing the fact his father had been poisoned.

Nico wasn’t sure if he wanted to see his father, but when the summons came via a rather bland text message he felt guilty enough that he pulled on a jacket and headed to the hospital, stopping only to leave a note for Will who was out grocery shopping. It was drizzling outside, and the world was a dull mass of grey. People hurried past with their heads down and their hoods up.

The hospital was an uninspiring blocky looking building. Inside they’d tried to make it both more modern and more welcoming, but neither had worked. The smell of disinfectant was pervasive. The gifts in the shop, colourful though they were, still somehow looked wilted and sad. Reminders of death lingered around every corner.

Or maybe that was just his mood.

Nico knocked on the door to his father’s room, then felt stupid for knocking. He waited nonetheless until he was bid to enter.

The hospital room was nicer than his had been with lots of realistic looking fake wood and a bigger TV, but it was emptier. There were no outrageously lurid cards, cuddly toys, or bundles of balloons. A pale, perfunctory bunch of flowers sat on a table wilting slightly under the hospital lights. His father was sitting back in a similar condition, propped up by several pillows. He had been reading a letter, but he put it down as Nico walked in, and Nico wondered for a moment if he’d wandered into a different dimension.

It wasn’t just that his father had acknowledged Nico’s presence. Nico had never known or seen his father vulnerable. Even after his mother’s death, after Bianca’s he had remained stoic: a shard of metal, cold and hard and sharp. Now his eyes were sunken, and they glittered with a feverish light. His cheeks were hollow, and he had an even more deathly pallor than usual.

Nico sat down. For the first time since coming out of the hospital he felt exhausted. He twisted his hands together to stop them shaking and stared down at his lap.

“Nico.”

His father’s voice was unexpected. Not soft exactly, but beneath the slightly raspy quality that still invaded Nico’s own voice if he talked too much, there was just a slither of something beyond the usual evenness and distance.

“I am so sorry.”

Nico froze, looked up. His father was looking at the wall ahead, gaze distant. Nico couldn’t even begin to guess what he was thinking.

“I never imagined that anyone would orchestrate an attack on me. That was an oversight, and it was an oversight that nearly got you killed. That would have been unforgivable.”

Nico didn’t know how to process that, so he didn’t, just fiddled with his ring.

“I understand thanks are in order as well? If it hadn’t been for you surmising that you were likely poisoned at the same time as me, the police would currently be investigating my murder.”

“You’re welcome,” Nico muttered shrugging.

His father sighed and let his head fall back. Barely a minute of conversation and he was already tired. Nico wondered how much worse he would have been if Will hadn’t found him when he did. Whether he would have made it at all. Given the shape his father was in now, almost a week after the incident it seemed unlikely.

His father’s eyes had drifted shut and Nico felt a thrill of fear run down his spine.

“I should go,” he said quickly, pushing himself up.

His father actually smiled at that, so quickly and faintly Nico couldn’t tell for sure that he hadn’t just imagined it.

“I do tire out rather quickly at the moment,” he conceded. “I should like to see you again before I leave New York.”

He paused and seemed to consider something.

“If that is okay with you?”

Nico didn’t know what to do with that at all. He shrugged, a sharp jerk of his shoulders. His father seemed to accept that, or expect it, and he nodded and closed his eyes.

It was still raining outside, and the world was still grey. At the apartment all the lights were on in an attempt to pierce the gloom. Will was sitting at the breakfast bar, systematically stacking empty bottles into a fairly convincing representation of the Eiffel tower.

“There’s a bet,” Will said by way of explanation. “One I don’t plan on letting Cecil win.”

“Did you glue them?” Nico asked.

“That would be cheating.”

“Then you’re a gullible moron because that’s definitely what Cecil is going to do.”

Will thought about that and then sighed.

“You are so right,” he said. “But at least I have the moral high ground.”

“And probably a whole lot more glass to clean up in the near future.”

Will sighed again, but he didn’t disagree.

“How’d it go with your dad?”

Nico paused in the act of pouring himself a coke to try and find the words to sum it up.

“Have you seen Invasion of the Body Snatchers?”

“Pod people?” Will asked. “Cold and emotionless? I thought you said that was what he was like before.”

“Oh,” Nico said. “I haven’t actually seen the film. The opposite of that then. He thanked me. And apologised for putting me in danger.”

“First thing you’d do if getting your kid poisoned surely?”

Nico shook his head.

“Not my father.” He cradled his coke with both hands, feeling the condensation chill his palms.

“And he was so ill. It was strange seeing him so vulnerable.”

Will looked up and offered him a small reassuring smile.

“He’s okay though,” he pointed out.

“Yeah,” Nico said. “Thanks to you.”

Will just shrugged.

“That reminds me,” he said. He handed Nico a cd.

“What’s this?” Nico asked with some suspicion.

“I know I said I didn’t have a favourite song and I stand by that. But here’s a whole lot of favourite songs.”

“No one uses cds anymore,” Nico said because the alternative would be admitted how touched he was.

Will fixed him with a look and placed a bottle on top of the stack. There was a second of silence and then the tower came down with an impressive crash and splintering sound. They both looked at the pile of shattered glass.

“I’ll clean it up,” Will said.

Nico picked up the cd and retreated to his room, leaving him to it. He sat on his bed and stared at the cd. Will had drawn a heart on it with red sharpie.

Nico’s brush with death had obviously scared Will more than Will was prepared to outright admit, and it had put some things in perspective for Nico. And so, since he’d come home, their relationship had been great: they were back to them, no more awkwardness, no more fights about nothing. And yet Nico couldn’t help wondering how long it would last.

He hated himself for that. He wanted this, more than anything. And now he had it, he was just looking for ways for it to fall apart. He shook his head, and dug out his old laptop and fished his earphones, in a knotted tangle, out of his jacket pocket.

He only had a chance to listen to the first song before Will was at his door, informing him the glass was all gone and did he want dinner.

Nico left the laptop on the bed but he found himself humming the melody as they cooked. He didn’t even realise he was doing it and then Will glanced at him and gave such a fond smile that Nico’s heart stuttered.

“It’s a good song,” Will said.

Nico just shrugged, and Will’s smile got bigger.

Percy turned up the next morning while Will was in class. Nico had been sent home after thirty minutes at work the night before because he “looked like a zombie” and he’d been instructed not to return until he felt one hundred per cent better. He was therefore looking forward to a free day and free evening and had subsequently been hit simultaneously with the desire to do nothing and everything at the same time. After skipping out of several Netflix shows – both new and old favourites – he’d resorted to stalking around the apartment in a mild temper. Percy’s arrival felt both like a relief from boredom and an interruption and so he wasn’t quite sure how to respond when he opened the door and found him on the doormat.

He settled for a sullen scowl, but no snide greeting.

“You look how I feel,” Percy commented. Considering Percy usually just launched himself at everything with barely any more thought than was necessary to make a (bad) joke, that was a vaguely ominous statement and Nico had to wonder what new hell was dawning on the horizon.

Percy sank into one of the sofas without preamble. He looked glum.

“I didn’t know there were so many shades of blue,” he complained. “And at a certain point all wedding cake tastes the same.”

His wedding then. Nico could cope with Percy moaning about his wedding if that was all that he had going on.

“I hear your father’s being discharged today.”

Nico hadn’t known that, hadn’t spoken to his father at all since he’d visited. He had spoken to Hazel who had been as uncertain as Nico about how to respond to their father’s near escape from an untimely demise.

“How’d you know that?”

“My dad spoke to your dad.”

Percy paused, seeming to struggle with something.

“Do you ever get the feeling they are keeping stuff from us?” he asked eventually.

“All the time,” Nico said.

The topic of Bianca, the last casualty of the secrets their parents kept, hovered briefly between them.

“Have you heard from Jason?” Percy asked, changing the subject as the air got too heavy. It was a little too casual and Nico’s eyes narrowed.

“It looks like you have.”

“Actually, I haven’t. He’s been weirdly quiet. He didn’t even answer my question about the difference between teal and aquamarine. It’s like he’s mad at me or something.”

“He doesn’t like me dating Will,” Nico said with a shrug. “Which is ironic since he was the one bugging me to get a life, and a date. Maybe he’s mad you introduced us.”

Percy shrugged but he looked troubled.

“What did he say to you about Will?”

“Just to be careful. Which is stupid. What’s Will going to do?”

Percy shrugged again.

“Kill you in your sleep?” he suggested.

“Then why would he bother saving my life? I would have died if he hadn’t figured out poison.”

“Nothing makes sense Neeks,” Percy said. “Maybe we just have to accept that. Anyway, since Jason is busy giving me the silent treatment like we’re five again, I need you to come and taste cake with me.”

“I hate cake,” Nico protested automatically. “And don’t call me Neeks.”

But he went anyway. He didn’t have anything better to do.

When Will got home later Nico was full of cake, and still restless. Will watched him pace for a moment and then asked what was up.

“I don’t know,” Nico admitted. “But it feels like something bad is coming.”

Will glanced out the window to the grey skies and drizzle that had become perpetual and invasive.

“You just feel like that because it’s dull and grey outside and we haven’t seen the sun in six years,” he suggested.

Nico shook his head. He wasn’t a running sort of person but if he’d be going around the block and trying to work out, whatever this was. When Will caught his arm, he recoiled automatically and Will took a very surprised step back.

“Sorry,” Nico said. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s me and you here,” Will pointed out. “Who else would it be?”

Nico didn’t know but he couldn’t shake the feeling of - anticipation? Dread? Something horrible was around the corner, all the pieces were lining up. And Nico didn’t get how no one else could see it.

“There’s a storm coming,” Will said, looking out the window at the horizon. “Maybe that’s what’s bothering you.”

Will was right to some extent. That night the rain changed, starting to hammer at the windows as it fell in droves, striking like bullets. Thunder began rolling in at midnight, and the storm had worked itself up to full crashing, window shaking, sky splitting fury by one.

Nico sat on the couch, in the dim light, the curtains opened and letting in faint patches of colour from the city lights outside. He watched the flashes of light as they tore across the sky. Will eventually joined him.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

Nico doubted he’d be able to sleep with or without the storm, but he nodded. Will sat down and Nico leant against him.

“Maybe we’ve reached our limit of bad things,” Will said. “I mean what else could happen?”

Lightning illuminated the room and his boyfriend. Will still had the power to take his breath away. The soft blue light hit him at all the right angles which seemed unfair.

I could lose you, Nico thought. He didn’t say it. It seemed a little morbid.

“Nico,” Will said firmly. Another flash lit up his face enough for Nico to see the complete sincerity in his eyes.

“We’ll get through this. All of it.”

Nico couldn’t believe him, but he wanted to. He couldn’t look away from Will’s eyes and the sincerity and steadiness in them. He watched as they went from dark and greyish to blue, and then back again as lightning strobed outside.

“What?” Will asked, half amused and definitely self-conscious.

Nico shook his head.

“It would only go to your head.”

Will let out half a laugh, evidently confused. He leant forward when Nico did however and kissed him back when their lips met.

When Nico woke the storm had run itself out, but it hadn’t cleared the sky which still felt heavy and oppressive. He managed to get up without waking Will and made himself coffee, on the unlikely assumption that it would calm him.

Percy called as he was pouring out the coffee into two mugs.

“I don’t want anymore cake,” Nico said. “Possibly ever.”

“It’s not that,” Percy said. His voice was uncharacteristically tense. “Your dad and my dad are having some big meeting.”

“Okay well that’s not so bad right at least –“

“Jason’s dad has flown in.”

“Okay, so we’re all screwed.”

Percy was practically vibrating with agitation when Nico met him in the hotel lobby.

“Jason’s here,” Percy said, pushing himself away from the wall. “He wouldn’t even look at me.”

“Where is everyone?” Nico asked. He couldn’t quite imagine all of them squashed up in a hotel room, and then he could. He giggled involuntarily, and Percy gave him a confused look.

“They’ve got a function room. Jason’s dad’s company has some big important meeting there afterwards, so I guess they figured they may as well kill to birds with one stone.”

“I hope you appreciate how much I don’t want to be here,” Nico said as they crept down a corridor. They were both instinctively moving stealthily and slowly, inching towards the door Percy indicated.

“I know,” Percy whispered. “I owe you.”

“I’m going to remember that,” Nico warned him. “This one?”

Percy nodded, grimaced and then with a look of determination rapped sharply on the door.

It was Jason’s father who answered, and Percy and Nico exchanged a glance. Percy shrugged somewhat helplessly and with a worryingly reckless spark in his eyes, shoved open the door.

Percy stalked in first leaving Nico to trail rather unwillingly in behind.

The room was already stormy. Percy’s dad was nearest them lounging in a chair, in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt with rolled cuffs looking like he’d wandered in from the beach and was impatient to get back there. His eyes were distant, and he twirled a pen round and round distractedly - Nico had seen Percy do that hundreds of times. He looked up when the door opened and, despite his obvious surprise he did greet them with a smile.

Percy’s dad typically was the most approachable of the three men, and an interesting middle ground between Nico’s father and Jason’s. He owned a chain of fancy fish restaurants and bars up near Montauk beach. As far as Percy and Nico could figure he mainly left the running of these to his wife, a somewhat fierce woman who was categorically not Percy’s mother, while he spent the days surfing and fishing instead. It was one of the things that apparently annoyed Jason’s father, that and the laidback attitude and the tattoos up and down his arms and legs, and his hair – long enough to reach his shoulders which probably would have fine if it weren’t usually also windblown and messy.

There had been a lot of arguments – a lot of them serious but a lot also about hair and tattoos and reputations and responsibilities. If Jason was the mom friend then Jason’s dad was the mum friend turned up to eleven - it was just he was the kind of mom who hated fun and liked rules.

Jason’s father had always kind of scared Nico as a kid. He’d always been so serious and so stern, and he’d radiated power like a man used to control. He usually had it, and he didn’t like it when anything happened to disrupt that control. It seemed not much had changed: he stood at the other end of the window staring out and though his back was turned he was in clear command of the room. Perhaps it was a habit he’d picked up in the courtroom.

He turned and regarded them with an utterly impassive expression.

“I thought you were your father,” he said to Nico, addressing the remark as was his custom in Nico’s general area rather than directly to him. “He couldn’t have made an effort to be on time? It is his fault we are here.”

Jason’s father had a habit of not quite saying what he truly meant. Perhaps that was something else he’d picked up in the courtroom, an ability to imply something without directly saying it was probably useful for a bigshot lawyer.

“He didn’t ask to be poisoned,” Nico snapped after a quick translation in his head.

Percy shifted next to Nico. Nico stood his ground. Jason’s father held Nico’s gaze for a moment and then turned back to look out of the window.

“As nice as it is to see you,” Percy’s dad suggested, intervening. “You two really don’t need to be here.”

Nico agreed wholeheartedly, but Percy surprised him by narrowing his eyes, leaning back against the wall and insisting they were going to stay. Nico briefly weighed up the pros and cons of staying. Cons: having to witness a major war in the miniature played out between their dads. Pros: none other than potentially getting to elbow Percy to shut him up if Percy looked like he was about to say or do something stupid.

“Percy –“ he tried.

“Nico.”

He glared. Percy raised an eyebrow. Nico rolled his eyes and tried to indicate he would be perfectly happy throwing Percy to the wolves and leaving him. Percy mouthed Jason and slashed a finger across his own throat which Nico hoped was short hand for we need to stay so we can pin down Jason and grill him on why he has been being so weird and what he’s got against your boyfriend, and not shorthand for murder like the gesture usually meant. Alternatively, he supposed Percy could be worried about Jason getting into trouble for something and wanted to stay and support him which was noble enough.

Either way, it looked like they were staying – Jason himself had come in. He passed Percy and Nico, refusing to meet either of their eyes, and went over to his father beginning a conversation in a low voice. Percy was looking like he might be ready for some throat slashing and Nico got ready to elbow Percy in case he really did open his mouth, but mercifully Percy and the rest of the room were distracted by the arrival of Nico’s father.

Next Chapter

#i am so bad at remembering to post on here #check out my ao3!#love you all i'm so sorry #Will solace #Nico di Angelo #will solace/nico di angelo #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #solangelo #writing

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 7 years ago

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Complementary (Collins x OC) Chapter 24: Survive

Summary: Another familiar face returns to Jack’s life after a five year absence.

AN: Dialogue heavy chapter, oops.

Trigger warning: Elements of PTSD referenced

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter Gif Credit

“Jack, the phone’s for you,” Genevieve yelled through the walls. An avalanche of footsteps came through the doorway and Jack in his neatly ironed trousers and button-up leapt around the corner to land beside his girlfriend. His girlfriend. He still wasn’t over that title.

“Thanks, my love,” He pecked her cheek before taking the receiver, “Hello? Yes, this is Collins speaking.”

Genevieve left him alone to hobble down the stairs – fewer thankfully than his last place - and get back to cleaning the car. Jack had somehow managed to get mud all over it whilst driving home after a visit. It was only fair that she help to clean it after helping him move into his new flat.

She was done with the windshield, the left hand side of the car and was just starting on the bonnet before Jack made an appearance. Genevieve had a slackers joke prepared as she stood up to greet him but she was cut off. Skin ashen, Jack pressed his palms into the roof and stared without seeing at the front seat.

“You alright?” Genevieve dropped the sponge into the bucket.

As she drew closer, she could hear that he was borderline hyperventilating. Rubbing his back, she waited patiently for him to calm down. Her touch helped to ground Jack with the coolness of the car’s roof and the splashes of water droplets.

“It’s Farrier. He’s alive. He wants to meet with me.”

The man she’d only seen in a photo in Jack’s sitting room that meant so much to Jack, he was here. He was here in London. Genevieve found herself short of breath with him.

Finally she spoke “When does he want to see you?”

“Now.”

“And you said yes?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Genevieve nodded, acknowledging that cleaning the car was nowhere near the top of their priority list anymore, “Do you want to get ready?”

“No, I want to go now.”

“Ok.”

Jack didn’t question Genevieve dumping the bucket in the foyer and taking the car keys. He complied by sitting in the front seat and mumbled directions to the Red Lion. The claustrophobia of the car didn’t help. Usually the space’s effect on him was minimal but now it’d grown exponentially. It was a decade at least before they pulled up outside the chosen location of the rendezvous.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Genevieve asked, hand on the key in case he should say yes.

Without a word, Jack shook his had. His mind was spinning with what he was gonna do. What could he say? Hey Farrier, long time no see, how was the camp? Would he remember him? Lord knows what happened to him in Germany. In fact, he didn’t want to know and made a not to steer clear of that topic. Jack’s knee bounced like a hyperactive toddler, his hands clasping his face and holding his breath.

Genevieve placed a hand on Jack’s knee, squeezing it. The bouncing subsides and Jack released his face to take her hand.

“What do I say?” He asked softly.

“I hear ‘hello’ is a great conversation starter,” Genevieve joked, “And Englishmen do love small talk about the weather.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jack said sarcastically but, in reality, he was grateful for the diffusion of the tension, even if it was only a little.

“Take your time,” Genevieve said with integrity this time, “I’ll be out here if you need me. Just go in when you’re ready. If Farrier’s anything like you described him on his breaks, he’ll appreciate a little humour.”

“Yeah, he did… does, he does,” Jack took a deep breath, kissed Genevieve’s hand and opened the car door, “You’ll be back in half an hour?”

“Right here, half an hour on the dot,” Genevieve nodded.

Smiling appreciatively, Jack’s voice cracked as he thanked her. Coughing to steady his voice, he left his car and shut the door. It didn’t drive away until he was at the door, ensuring that he was at least considering to go ahead with this meeting. He didn’t believe in God but Jack still muttered a brief prayer before entering.

Upon entering, Jack scanned the patrons. Not many people came to the pub at two in the afternoon so it was easy enough to narrow it down. There was a man sat with his back to the door beside the window overlooking the beer garden.

Jack stared at his comrade with shameful curiosity for the first time in five years. His heart punched his breastbone repeatedly and not in the usual way it did. It wasn’t like his first glimpse of Genevieve; almost everything had changed. His tanned skin bore a sallow hue, sinking into his skull. His hair was thinning and, although it was combed neatly, it was obvious that it had clumps missing. Scars littered his features. His skinny frame was buried underneath his coat.

“Collins!” His face lit up and he stood to hug him. He was still surprisingly strong, despite his the tremor in his arms. Farrier grunted and wheezed, the laugh escaping his chest as they left the embrace and looked upon one another. Jack joined in with relief, going a little pink as Farrier stared him down with the rare smile that was famous among the RAF base they were both on.

“Long time, no see, eh?” Farrier’s hand lightly slapped his colleague’s arm.

“You could say that,” Jack pressed his lips into a smile.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“I think so, yes.”

Two whiskeys were delivered to their table as Jack took a seat opposite Farrier. The younger man was trying not to cry and nursed his drink carefully so as not to kickstart his motor mouth.

“I guess it’s ridiculous to ask how you are,” He let out a hollow laugh.

“You’d be right.” Farrier leant his forearms against the table, “But I’m gonna ask how you are. Good to see you made it out the Spitfire.”

“Ah, you remember.”

“Course I do. I’m not an amnesiac.”

“Right, of course,” Jack shuffled in the chair, “Your mother’s been to see you then.”

“Oh, she did. Made it out the air raids, she was telling me about. New flowers every day I was in hospital. Stench’s over-powering,” Farrier smiled fondly. It was odd, seeing him smile so much. But it was nonetheless beautiful. In spite of this more expressive persona, the more he stared, the more Jack realised Farrier hadn’t transformed all that much, same old handsome tough sonofabitch.

Jack snapped back into formality, “My mother’s the same. Doesn’t like that I don’t stay with her no more.”

“You still in that tiny fuck-off flat then?” Farrier raised a brow, highlighting his eyes.

“No, actually, I’ve moved out to a bigger one.”

“Atta boy, Collins!” Farrier slapped his arm again over the table, “Finally got a backbone.”

Jack laughed, “Oh it wasn’t my idea but I’m sure as hell glad I went along with it.”

“What, your mum force you out?”

“No, I’ve moved closer to my girlfriend.” Jack braved a look up. There, Farrier’s smile was replaced by a look of admiration – another famed rarity on their old base.

“So? Tell me about her!” He egged on, leaning forward with interest. Whilst Jack shuffled his chair closer, his heart was shot with a brief yet painful pang that he ignored and repressed.

“Uh, her name’s Genevieve. She was actually on the sailboat that picked me out the Spitfire when I crashed.”

“You got a kid for a girlfriend?”

“What?”

“Well if she’s too young to be a nurse, she’s too young for you, you creep,” Farrier joked, his wheezing laugh interjecting the words. It took Jack a moment to figure out what Farrier was referring to then he quickly leapt to his own defence.

“No! No, I ain’t a cradle-snatcher or nothing. She was on the boat ‘cus she was picked up too.”

“Real meet-cute there. When do I get to meet her?” Farrier clasped his hands in front of him, already taking up the role of moderator.

“She’ll be back in fifteen minutes if you wanted to…”

“Great. Can’t wait,” Farrier took a long sip from his tumbler. The ice clinked against the glass as it was placed back on the table. Jack copied him, trying not to splutter on the whiskey.

“You got anyone?” He asked quietly.

“Nah,” Farrier said finitely. That closed that topic of conversation with a short stop of silence before Farrier brought up Jack’s ma. But soon enough there was a car parking outside the pub again.

“That’s her.” Jack strained his neck to see it. Then he turned to Farrier for confirmation again.

“Yeah, sure, bring her in,” Farrier waved ascent, “Since I’m the reason you got together, I’ll be the judge of whether she’s good for you or not.”

“Farrier, it wasn’t your fault I got-”

“Hey,” Farrier leant forward with a pointed finger and serious expression, “Go get your girl. That’s an order, Fortis 2.”

Jack half-smiled, “Right you are, Fortis 1.”

He quickly exited the pub and knocked on the car window. Genevieve was reading a large book titled “Picture of Dorian Gray”; upon seeing Jack, she marked the page and closed it.

“How is Farrier?” She opened the door and stepped out to hug him. He didn’t initially know that he needed this but Jack clung to her, his face in her neck, and felt any remaining tension slip away.

He whispered, “He’s almost the same as before.”

“That’s a relief.”

“-But,” Jack continued, releasing her from his grip, “He’s not well. Feels guilty about a ton of stuff.”

“That’s less of a relief,” Genevieve said bluntly, unable to think of something else to say in comfort.

“He wants to meet you.”

Genevieve pinched his shoulders, fingering his jacket’s material before responding, “I mean, you showed me photo off to your other pilot pals. Don’t want to make Farrier feel left out.” Jack went red as Genevieve smirked at him, looping her arm through his.

They walked back over to the door, “Go on, ladies first.”

“He’s your friend?”

“He’s expecting my girlfriend.”

“I can’t believe arguing about who goes first into a room, is that a thing couples do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fine, I’ll go in first,” Genevieve pushed through the door. If she was surprised by Farrier’s condition, she didn’t show it. Instead she put on a smile akin to his – genuine and winsome.

“Hey, I’m Genevieve but I’m sure Jack’s already introduced me.”

“He’s done the same for me, I bet,” Farrier stood and shook her outstretched hand. Then he grunted at Jack who was stood an awkward few feet away, “What are you doing over there, you tosspot?”

“Uh, observing,” Jack stuck his hands in his pockets.

Rolling her eyes at her partner, Genevieve turned back to Farrier, “So, tell me, was he always an inarticulate bumble or is that saved specially for me?”

“Oh Christ,” Jack covered his face and dropped into the chair beside her.

“He was always terrible with women, I can remember that. Stammering over his words and asking random questions, completely inept,” Farrier grinned at Jack as he took a seat with his girlfriend.

Sensing his discomfort, Genevieve squeezed his hand in his lap before finishing her quips, “Oh, I thought he was shivering with the cold or shock. I pinned his question about my favourite colour on that too.”

“Good God, Collins, how’d you get her to stick around?”

“Well, when you almost drown then pull a bunch of soldiers out of oil, you are kind of bonded whether you like it or not,” Genevieve said with sarcastic wisdom. Farrier stiffened slightly but it passed as he began his cross-examination to see if she was a worthy partner for Jack.

“So, were you a nurse then?”

“No, I was a sniper.”

“Collins, marry this woman right now.”

Going silent, Genevieve’s ear went red. Jack began to choke on his own top button, tugging to undo it. Farrier’s wheezing laughter filled the room as he spluttered over their awkwardness. Exchanging a brief moment of eye contact, Jack and Genevieve stared into their laps.

Finally, she managed to stammer out a response, “I-I don’t think that’s the best criteria to measure a person’s partner.”

“Nah,” Farrier chuckled, “I can tell you’re good.”

Jack quickly downed his drink and signalled for the bartender to bring another as he gulped it down.

“Woah, slow down. If I remember correctly, you’re a real lightweight,” Farrier said whilst tapping his tumbler. At this comment, Genevieve remembered a certain comment Jack had said during her time at his ma’s house.

“Yeah, he really is,” She mumbled to herself, wishing that she could also be drinking.

After drinking another two rounds of whiskey to stomach his nerves, Jack bade Farrier farewell. He pulled him back into a hug and Jack took a moment to process that this needed to be reciprocated. His arms carefully constricted around Farrier who had his nose in his shoulder. Somehow the two inches height difference between them was also consistent through the years.

He disregarded Genevieve’s hand and pulled her into an equally tight hug. She responded faster than Jack had and with a beaming smile.

“I’ll be seeing you both,” He grinned before turning away and walking the opposite direction.

Jack was quiet on the way home. He stared out the window as Genevieve drove home. She didn’t try to make him speak, knowing that today had been emotionally taxing for him. The car was clean anyway; she’d done it whilst waiting for the half an hour interlude to be up.

Still quiet, Jack realised that Genevieve couldn’t get home because he’d had too much to drink which is why she followed him to his flat. But this opened up an opportunity for him as he closed the door behind them and remembered his evening routine.

“You know what I said the other day about…?” He nodded over to the bathroom.

Genevieve followed his gesture and caught on, “You want me to help you?”

“Please.”

Touching his shoulder for comfort, Genevieve headed into the bathroom. She rolled up her sleeves and switched up the taps. Hand swirling around the mix the cold and hot water together in the perfect temperature, it shook the droplets off just as Jack stripped down to his underwear behind the tub.

Genevieve helped Jack into the bath, unfazed by the amount of skin revealed to her. She helped him get down to his knees then sit down properly in the low level of water. As he shuddered in the warmth, he heard Genevieve whispering that he was doing so well. It was nice to hear her say this to him in real life and not in his head. Much more believable as he felt her lather up his left arm with his green flannel. As she reached his shoulder, he took it and cleaned his other arm.

Kneeling beside him, Genevieve took the cup from his sink and poured water over the suds. They slid down his chest to pop on the water’s surface. She repeated this several times until he was content that he was clean. Washing his own hair, he stood and accepted the towel Genevieve gave him.

She left him to get changed out of his underwear and into his robe. As he exited, she was back at his desk looking at the photos. Jack tensed, as he remembered the something that resided in that desk, before walking over to her side. He was welcomed with her open arms.

“That really helped,” He accepted her hug, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my love.”

My love. That was what he was and that’s what Genevieve was to him. He knew it. He felt it. So why in that moment was he questioning it?

AN: I’m including parts of their day-to-day lives that have been impacted by the war because I want more of a healthy relationship that has mutual respect and where both parties accommodate their partner. The title comes from Survive which is one of my favourite pieces of music from the film “Mad Max: Fury Road” and pairs nicely with Escape. Farrier’s one helluva guy (with touch starvation).

Perma-tag: @tomgcsglasses, @lowdenglynnstyles, @prettyboytgc and @lowdensnose

Complementary tag: @you-are-the-first-dream, @disneydirectioner, @from-the-clouds and @lavidademarimar

#jack lowden #jack lowden imagine #jack lowden series #jack lowden x oc #collins imagine #collins series #collins x oc #collins dunkirk #complementary #series #r: female #dunkirk cast #dunkirk imagine #dunkirk series #my writing

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hirstories · 7 years ago

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Abraca—switch! Or The Tale of Edward Elric vs. the Mischievous Body-Snatcher

Chapter 2

The crackling of firewood was starting to annoy Edward. He bent over and picked up a long stick from the ground. He gave it a quick look thinking that Don Paco might've used it to stir up the fire already; he did the same and stirred it up some more. The crackling calmed. Seconds later, Edward tossed the stick away and sat in front of the bonfire. No seats or mats were available so he had to make do with sitting on the red sand. At least the surface soft on the tush.

After finding a comfortable spot on the ground, Edward pulled his State Alchemist pocket watch from his vest. It was thirteen until midnight. Edward snapped the watch close and brought his knees close to his chest. He folded his arms over his bent knees and rested his chin on his right forearm. Two, maybe three beats had passed by before a proud smile adorned his face. He couldn't help it though, he still couldn't believe that flesh and bone had replaced metal and wires. A little over two years had passed by since he got his arm back. He supposed, though, he was going to catch himself smiling until he put his past behind. Lingering on the past for too long always had a sobering effect on him.

Edward straightened; he flipped open his pocket watch one more time. It was now five until midnight. Edward flipped the watch close but this time he slipped it back in his vest pocket. He glanced around but found the area as immutable as when he arrived.

The thin plume of smoke he saw at a distance was still crowing Don Paco’s hut; Edward groaned.

The man specifically told him to be there one hour before midnight.

“Guess the old fart was just being a control freak,” Edward mumbled to himself.

He looked around some more. Still no crazy old man in the vicinity. He sighed.

Edward returned to his previous sitting position, with his arms folded over his bent knees, though this time he didn't rest his chin on his right forearm. He scanned the area some more looking for any signs of the old man and found none. He was going to give Don Paco a couple of extra minutes before going back to town.

Edward groaned in irritation.

He hated waiting, he hated waiting in silence, mostly he hated silence because his voice of reason liked to strike in the dead of silence.

Like a drill sergeant, the likes one could find in Fort Briggs, his voice of reason got on his case the day before while he made his way back to Little Big Canyon.

The rest of the night, and pretty much the better part of the following day, it barked at him to forget about Don Paco’s offer. But Edward was born a scientist and scientists are curious beings. Besides, he has never liked to be told what to do. “Lack of common sense” as many had told him throughout his life. So alchemy or no alchemy, Edward figured that there was much he could learn from that crazy old man.

Wasn't that the whole fucking point of his trip to the West?

Edward thoughts returned to the moment when Don Paco told him about Alphonse’s feelings and his supposed guilt.

“And here I thought Al was making up excuses to travel East so he could play house with Li’l Miss Bean,” he said, bursting into a guffaw.

But his attempt at sarcasm faded fast.

Edward’s expression turned dark. He exhaled a frustrated sigh.

If Alphonse would've been with him right now, he might feel more confident about committing himself to what Don Paco was offering—

“Cano, didn't I tell you already that wandering like that can get you in trouble around these parts?”

Edward’s face twisted into an annoyed glare when he heard the stupid comment.

“I wasn't sure you were going to come,” Don Paco added as he trudged towards Edward.

Even with the full moon shining brightly above them, it was hard to distinguish figures in the dark. Edward thought the old man was coming from the direction of his adobe hut, but he appeared from the opposite direction.

The flames finally shed light on Don Paco. Edward blinked like a man waking from a dream.

The old crone was wearing a full regalia consisting of the same clothes he was wearing the day before along with long loops of shell necklaces beaded together with serpent skulls. Don Paco’s Sanguine Star was the center piece amongst his gruesome neck ornaments.

The way the red stone shined amongst the skulls reminded Edward of Envy’s stone.

He tried to control the rise of bile his throat as best as he could.

The huge backpack on Don Paco’s back made him look like a shriveled up tortoise.

In his right hand, Don Paco held a long wooden staff; he cradled a cat in his opposite arm.

Edward wasn't an expert in cats like Alphonse, but he was pretty sure the cat Don Paco held was a golden short-haired cat.

Why would he need a cat? Edward turned to Don Paco, his golden eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Relax, muchacho. I’m not going to kill this cat, if that's what you're thinking,” Don Paco snickered.

“You said it, not me,” Edward spat.

Don Paco cut him off. “But you thought about it!”

Edward flashed a hard, cynical smile. “No offense, but you don't strike me as a cat person.”

Don Paco pointed a finger at Edward, and said, “So sharp!”

He chuckled as he walked past Edward, then gently deposited the cat on the ground.

“Domingo is a crucial part of the ritual,” he said as he turned to Edward. “Cats act as guides between realms.”

The cat meowed as if he were in agreement with Don Paco.

Edward kept to himself.

Don Paco took the opportunity to place the backpack near the bonfire. He then sat crossed-legged next to it and motioned for Edward to move closer.

But Edward didn't move an inch.

Domingo sauntered toward Edward. He looked at Edward with his big golden eyes before rubbing against his side. Alphonse would've loved this little guy. Domingo meowed then returned to his owner’s side.

Don Paco leaned forward to pick up Domingo. “Did you tell anyone in town that you were coming?" he asked as he put the cat on his lap.

Edward smiled that cynical smile again and said, “Do you have some nefarious plans for me or something?”

Don Paco’s eyes widened in surprise. After a pause, he let out a loud, boisterous cackle.

“¡Ay qué muchacho este!" he hollered, making Domingo jump away.

Don Paco gave a hardened glare at the cat when it decided to keep his distance.

He turned to Edward, and added, “No, I'm not planning on doing anything of the sort. I just wanted to make sure that you informed someone of your whereabouts, that's all.”

Edward answered with a deadpan stare. He had to appear cold and aloof in front of Don Paco; the man was much too astute for his liking. He didn’t say anything for a moment. He was angry at himself for not telling anyone about his whereabouts. It would've been wise to tell the innkeeper. The man had been genuinely worried about him ever since he first asked him what he knew about Don Paco.

“It's okay, cano, you can turn tail and run back to town. I won't judge,” Don Paco said with a mocking smile.

The fucking bastard did it again.

Edward shook his head. “Naw, I'm good,” he said, making sure his tone overflowed with manly confidence.

Don Paco stared at him for a moment, then out of nowhere, he smacked one of his thighs and grinned wide.

“Let’s commence the ritual!" he hollered.

Don Paco leaned forward to drag his backpack closer to him. He untied the braided leather laces and stuck his knobby hand inside. With careful measure, Don Paco took out a small gourd which he placed to his right. He moved the bag to the opposite side then picked up the gourd.

Edward watched in silence while the man uncorked the gourd and took a whiff of its contents.

Don Paco swirled the gourd like a master maître d' of some expensive Amestrian restaurant and took another sniff.

The man struggled to stand up while holding the gourd, but once he was up, he walked to Edward.

“You need to drink this now,” he said, shaking the gourd slightly so Edward would take it.

At that, Edward was unable to contain a scoff.

“And why do I need to drink this?" he asked.

Instead of being angry, Don Paco smiled. “I need to open up your energetic pathways,” he said, and his smile grew.

A long pause followed Don Paco’s answer, mainly because Edward was searching for signs of deceit in the dark pits of the old man’s eyes.

“Are you going to drink from it too?” Edward challenged when he came up empty-handed.

“I already did,” Don Paco replied with what was probably his most impish smile so far.

Edward stared at the gourd then glared at Don Paco.

“You could be serving me poison for all I know,” he chided.

Another smile, a bigger one slid across Don Paco's wrinkled face. “That's always a possibility, cano,” he said, to Edward’s surprise.

He paused to smack his lips, then added, “I got a question for you too.” He pointed a finger at Edward. “Are you willing to take that gamble?”

Were all the people of the Far West so overly dramatic?

Edward moved along to more pressing matters, like what that man could gain from this encounter.

It wasn't power, Edward quickly deduced, because he didn't have any. Knowledge? That’s certainly a possibility but the old fart had proven to be quite knowledgeable about many things in his own right.

Edward stared at Don Paco with unblinking eyes while entertaining an idea he'd been keeping at bay since yesterday: Does Don Paco actually have good intentions at heart?

Since an early age, life has drilled into his head that anything was possible. An old man in the middle of nowhere claiming that he can help him restore his alchemy by convincing Truth to give back what he'd willingly offered in exchange for his brother’s life could be just as credible as a homunculus planning become a living god. And he already lived through the latter.

“Fine, I'll drink the damn thing,” Edward said as he yanked the gourd from Don Paco’s hand.

“A wise decision, muchacho,” Don Paco muttered while he watched Edward uncork the rustic container. When Edward curled his nose in disgust, he added, “It tastes worse than it smells but it'll make things easier.”

Edward looked up, scowled, and snapped, “Gee, thanks for the heads-up.”

“I don't sugarcoat things, pendejo,” Don Paco snapped back.

Edward ignored the man.

He tried to peer inside the gourd but couldn't see anything in the darkness of the night; it made him groan inside. As he let out a huff of air, Edward thought for the umpteenth time about the two main reasons that drove him to seek Don Paco one more time.

Alphonse...Winry... He wished they could be right there with him to support him—or to stop him from committing an act of stupidity—but they weren't.

He raised his eyes to Don Paco.

Physically, that scrawny old man didn't pose a threat; the Philosopher’s Stone hanging from his neck was another matter. But even if the man somehow managed to pull off some idiotic stunt on him, he had his strength and his youth on his side. Besides, Izumi did teach him some amazing combat skills.

So with that boost of self-confidence, Edward sucked in a breath and pressed the gourd to his lips. In a one-two, he guzzled the contents down before his throat closed up.

“Ah, eso es...drink it to the last drop,” Don Paco said while he watched Edward down the potion, and smiled in utter satisfaction the moment he finished.

“Ugh—! Fuck!” Edward spat as he put the gourd down on the sand. He swallowed slowly to avoid upchuck—which probably would taste even worse than what he just downed—then added, “That thing is vile!”

“Give it a couple of seconds,” Don Paco said as he picked up the gourd and brought back with him to his backpack.

Edward watched the man pick up the golden-haired cat, which he cradled in his arm with utmost care. Don Paco then walked back to him.

“How are you feeling?" he asked.

Edward felt as if the question had been asked ages ago. He also noticed he had a hard time putting together a proper answer.

An indescribable sweetness suddenly replaced the nasty aftertaste that lingered in his mouth.

“Wha—” Edward slurred but couldn't finish piecing together what he was trying to say. His mouth felt as if it'd been stuffed with cotton. Then a sensation of weightlessness hit him. He wasn't sure if he was sitting, standing or had fallen to the ground. All sense of gravity was gone in an instant.

“Fu—!" he tried to say but he somehow had lost the ability to speak.

Edward focused his attention on Don Paco’s feet, which were now in his direct line of view. He mustn't be paying attention because it was Don Paco's face what he was looking at. Then, after a couple of seconds that seemed to stretch a lifetime, Edward came to a terrible realization.

“F—fu—cker—" he finally managed to slip a word past his numbed lips.

Don Paco’s mouth curled into a Cheshire grin that eerily reminded him of Truth.

Edward tried to stand but he couldn't. His eyes focused on Domingo who'd replaced Don Paco’s face.

“That's it,” he said, “Concentrate on those golden eyes that look so much like yours.”

Edward tried to shut his eyes close but couldn't. He wanted to look away but found himself unable to do so.

“These will be your eyes from now on, Edward Elric,” Don Paco continued.

“He knows my name...I never gave him my name..!”

Cold dread washed over him.

”No-no-no!” Edward wanted to say but at this point, he wasn't sure if those thoughts were even his.

Darkness began creeping up on him. Edward fought against this sensation and lost. . . . The world was spinning faster than a merry-go-round.

Edward blinked a few times to see if it would it stop; it didn't help much, though.

His thoughts were a mess too. The only thing he remembered well was that he'd passed out.

Edward tried to get up when the dizziness wasn't so overwhelming. And when he did, he noticed that Don Paco wasn't there with him anymore.

Then he noticed that he was standing too close to the ground.

“How—?” That can't be right... He looked down to see if there was something wrong with his legs and found two golden-haired paws instead of his feet. His eyes instantly rounded.

“What the fuck—?”

Edward tried to bring his hand to his head but lost his balance. His chin hit the ground. A jolt of panic ran up his spine; the surge somehow propelled him high into the air.

“Wha—what is going on?” Edward muttered as he landed safely on his feet.

His eyes darted in all directions. He began breathing loudly but he couldn’t help himself.

“What the fuck is going on!" he screamed into the dark night.

And then he heard it. The sound was muffled by the thumping in his ears, but he heard it alright.

He had meowed.

#fmabb17 #fma #fmab #story update #reblog please #fmachallenges

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rvxjaeho · 8 years ago

Note

12, 7, 18

7. biggest turn off(s)

“If a girl is younger than me, ninety-nine percent of the time I end up wanting to run in the opposite direction the moment she tells me that. I still have no idea why, I think I’m just worried my mere presence will somehow corrupt them or at least be misinterpreted to me being a cradle-snatcher like Jihwan and Donny are.”

12. ideas of a perfect date

“I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been on a real date before, and I’m twenty-five. I don’t know, I’ve honestly been pretty shitty when it comes to dating. I, uh, maybe I’ll make dinner for someone sometime, if she’s interested. Or take her to the little book shop that’s by the tattoo shop I work at. I dunno if I know what a perfect date would be, honestly. I guess just being able to spend time with her–I mean, uh, them, whoever they could be–sometime.”

18. phobia

“I want to just say ‘sharks’ and leave it at that, but I think my biggest phobia would be letting my grandparents down somehow. They always wanted what’s best for me, and they really didn’t have to take me in and raise me in the first place.”

#tt;#anon;#ask;#meme;#'dinner for someone sometime if shes interested'#jaeho #why are you like this #yoURE 25 WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS #Anonymous

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coreshorts · 8 years ago

Text

Power Cycle

Chapter 1, Part 4

Allison pursed her lips, standing against her door in nothing but her underwear and straining to hear what was being said between Geno and Ben. He’s early. He’s never early. And he sounds far more bothered about Snatchers than he usually is. What is going on? Why isn’t Ben questioning that? He knows the guy better than I do and it’s obvious something’s up. She took a breath and pushed herself away when her roommate left the living room to shower.

She resumed the forgone activity of getting dressed, but the worry weighed heavily on her. She couldn’t make out much of the conversation, but she had heard plenty to know that something was wrong and Geno wasn’t going to talk to Ben about it for whatever reason. Her phone buzzed on her bed. When she picked it up, she felt the blood drain from her face and she found herself glad that she picked it up with her right hand, as it wasn’t given to shaking like the rest of her had started to do.

Remember to talk to the good doctor.

She unlocked her phone to try and reply to the message, but when she did, it was gone. She hadn’t accidentally deleted it, nor had she dreamed it this time. Her heart raced as she tried to come up with something, anything, she could do. She had no way to respond and if Ben had been any indication, talking aloud like a loon wasn’t any good. Frustrated, she threw her phone down onto her bed with a groan.

Do I talk to him now, while Ben’s preoccupied? The last one… it said he’d know in time, right? So maybe it’s better to bring it up before I can freak him out more. But… She paused, realising she’d started pacing, worrying at the fingers of her prosthetic hand. What if he already knows? What if he’s in on it? Maybe it’d be better to get answers from him. Though, if he does, then he spent a good lot of time denying it.

She cursed whatever powers-that-be that would let the world devolve into such a state, man or otherwise. She hadn��t caught more than a few hushed words when their conversation dropped to nearly a whisper. It gave her the distinct feeling that they had known she might have been listening. They wouldn’t have been wrong.

She slipped into a pair of black athletic shorts and an oversized band t-shirt with the nigh-unreadable logo of a death metal band that looked as though it was spelled out from assorted branches and bramble. Cradling her right arm in the other, she sighed, closing her eyes for a few seconds and trying to regain her composure. Turning, she picked up her phone, opened the door, and strode out into the living room, trying her best to look mildly annoyed instead of panicked.

When she did, Geno looked up from his phone and locked it, putting it face-down beside him, saying with a far-too-casual tone, “Hey, Al. How ya been?”

She paused, narrowing her eyes and sighing, “Fine. Fine, Geno. More of the same, if Ben hadn’t told you. Flashbacks, that sort of thing.” The doctor nodded, looking her over and then nodding toward her right arm.

“No problems with the prosthesis?” He smiled hesitantly when Allison silently shook her head. “Good.”

He took a long breath that looked like a half-heartedly-resisted yawn, stretched, and gestured to the couch beside him, but Allison remained standing a few feet from the opposite side from where he sat.

“You’re acting weird.”

“Come again?” Geno looked taken aback, but not, perhaps, as much as he should have.

“I heard you talking when you came in. You’re never worried about Snatchers. They know to leave you alone. Ben didn’t ask, and I don’t know why, but with that, on top of everything else, it’s just weird.” Allison crossed her arms, fixing him with a stern glare, as if trying to break the mask she suspected he wore with it.

The doctor simply shrugged in response, “I’m waitin’ for something. A message from a client. Worried about them, is all. I guess it’s just leaking over into other things.”

Allison’s blood turned cold and a shiver shot up through her spine, setting in the small of her back and refusing to leave. She could feel herself paling, and could tell the man on the couch before her noticed as well.

Geno spoke before she could, “You alright? Still with us?” He waved a hand and it brought Allison back to her senses through virtue of mild irritation winning over. She waved a hand at him as if trying to bat his out of the air from a distance.

“I’m fine, Geno. Just… I still think something’s up,” she said with an indignant look, though she couldn’t direct it at him, her eyes looking away, as if hoping that when she looked back, he’d be back to what she expected: A somewhat callous, somewhat paranoid, thirty-something New Yorker who really only cared insofar as he could keep his clients or friends. Ben was both, and always took priority, and yet he let him run off without so much as a word of what he’d like to see or do.

“I’m an underground doctor, Al. There’s always somethin’ up,” he said dismissively, “Now tell me what’s been goin’ on. I might have somethin’ to take the edge off those flashbacks.”

Maybe nothing is wrong? Maybe it’s just me. She shook her head and sighed, “No, no more pills, Geno. The last shit you put me on turned me into a zombie for a month. I’d like to feel like I’m alive, not like the living fucking dead you guys seem to think I am sometimes.” She shot him a smirk and was relieved when the Russian rolled his eyes, the green emphasised only slightly by the dark circles beneath them.

“Yeah, yeah. Never were one for pills, were ya. Look, that’s the only real option I got until you can find a therapist to talk to who’ll believe ya,” he said, waving a hand around.

Allison snorted derisively, “Right. Tell someone that I’m a living conspiracy theory.” She looked to the bathroom. The water was still going. Granted, it’d barely been a few minutes, and Ben often took up to an hour in there sometimes. Her gaze darkened and Geno looked somewhat unnerved by it.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, there, Al? Ya look about to murder me. Don’t think I’d like that too much,” he said, making an attempt at levity.

She stood there, staring at him for a few seconds and fighting an internal battle of wills with herself before she finally spoke, “What do you know about “the activation,” Geno?” The doctor swallowed hard, and it was his turn to lose most of the colour in his face.

He cleared his throat and asked softly, cautiously, “What were you told?”

She shook her head, swallowing hard to clear the lump in her throat that had formed when his demeanour changed so dramatically, her voice cracking at first, “Noth- nothing aside from that I was supposed to ask you about it.” To ask him for it would’ve been more accurate, but she continued to try playing it safe for the time being.

Geno nodded slowly, scratching his forehead and looking away, “You know not all those scars were from when ya died.”

“I’m still not convinced I was dead, but go on.”

“No, trust me. You were dead. Dead as a fuckin’ doornail. No matter how you might’ve had air to breathe in that coffin, you were in there for a month. Not much would keep you from croakin’ while ya slept, and it would’ve been pretty obvious to any trained mortician that you were still kickin’ when they opened you up.” At the last part, he lifted a finger to point at her chest. The scars she’d always made sure to hide on her front were ones that made her sick to look at: the scars from an autopsy that had healed over. They weren’t entirely obvious, since it seemed like an attempt was made to be subtle. Where the cuts would’ve been made all the way up toward her shoulders, they stopped halfway.

“Then how would these have all been healed when I woke up? How didn’t I just split the fuck open, Geno?” she raised her voice somewhat, the topic upsetting her now.

He shrugged, sighing and muttering, “Beats me, kiddo, but that’s the way it is. That’s what this activation’s all about. The way you were prepped, the way you were examined, all of it – it wasn’t standard procedure. Not by a long shot. To make matters worse, the implant to facilitate that arm of yours was already there when I opened you up. All ready and waitin’. I dunno why, I dunno how, and I dunno who… but I know what I’m expected to do.”

Allison took a reflexive step back, as if fearful, asking cautiously, “And… what’s that…?”

Geno shook his head, “Don’t worry yourself over it, Al. It ain’t gonna kill ya if that’s what you’re worried about. Granted, I dunno what the hell it’s gonna do. But you’ve got all kinds of gizmos in that head of yours. I ain’t even really convinced that’s the end of it, either. Someone’s got plans for you.”

“I don’t think I want any part of it,” she said hesitantly. She’d begun to look like a cat backed into a corner, green eyes wide and her posture starting to look defensive.

“I dunno if any of us’ve got a choice,” the doctor said, sounding resigned, “The way I understand it, you get one of two sides of this coin, and the other side ain’t the one you wanna mess with. It ain’t what any of us wanna mess with.”

Allison stared at him, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Geno shook his head, looking right at her, almost apologetically.

“It ain’t a choice of mine, and it ain’t yours neither,” he said, pausing for a few minutes, “Dunno how much they’re gonna like me tellin’ ya this, but… it is what it is. You got snatched up at some point, and something was set in motion. Someone wants you for something, and I don’t think the people we’ve been hearin’ from are those same people. They’re trying to stop somethin’ and apparently they’re using you to start it.”

The violet-haired girl could only stare.

“Look,” the Russian said with an even stare, “Now ya know, and it’s now or never, ya follow? What we need to do, though, we can’t do it here.”

Allison looked back and frowned, watching the bathroom door, “What about Ben?” Geno responded by waving a hand dismissively and pushing himself up with a grunt to walk toward the bathroom door.

Rapping on the door with a knuckle, he cracked the door calling in over the steam and sound of running water that met him, “Hey Benny, I’m taking Al back to the clinic. I need to have a look at that implant of hers. Somethin’ tells me it’s causin’ her all this grief.”

Ben sounded sceptical, “Are you sure? You don’t want me there to check it?”

Geno dithered for a bit before speaking again, “Eh, nah. Not right away anyhow. Come down when you’re good and ready. I wanna scope her vitals and all that, see how it’s reacting physically first. Take your time, bud.”

A pregnant pause filled the air before, no less sceptical than before, Ben replied, “If you say so. I’ll be down. Just be careful with the Snatchers.”

“Yep.” Geno gave a wave to Allison, closing the bathroom door with a click and walking across the room to gather his things.

Allison just watched him, standing still and holding onto her prosthetic arm as though it’d pop clean of her shoulder if she let go. This seemed to annoy Geno, who walked to the door of the apartment and beckoned to her impatiently with a crane of his neck.

“What’re ya waiting for? We gotta move, Al.”

“R-right. Right, sorry. I-I just…” she shook her head, unsure of what, really, she had in mind to say, what excuse to give. Instead, her mouth hung open for a moment as she stared, forcing her to snap herself back to reality and run to her bedroom to collect her things.

She stopped once she was ready to go. A black leather purse with silvery metal studs around the middle and zipper hung from one shoulder, a pair of plain white ankle socks and black-and-grey tennis shoes adorned her feet, and the only thing left to get was her phone. She stared at it blankly, likely for far too long, she felt, just waiting for it to go off.

It never did, of course. No mysterious messages, no buzzing in place of a perpetually-silenced ringtone, nothing, came from the device. Silence was her only companion in her room then, leaving the ringing din of her own anxiety to deafen her momentarily, her body frozen and her eyes fixated.

A rapping on her door jolted her from her unwitting stupor, and she called back, “Alright, alright, I’m coming! Just, uh… you know… you know what, nevermind.” She opened the door to see Ben outside, dressed and ready to go, Geno looking pale behind him.

Ben’s hair was still dripping wet, but he looked unnerved, his breathing fast. He still had an oversized beach towel, a stark yellow with smiling cartoon fish on it in a wave pattern, wrapped around himself, arms hugging it tightly. In one hand, though, he clutched his phone so tightly that his knuckles went from a dark bronze to a sickly white, his face seeming to be struggling to match it.

“Allison. You need to wait for me,” he said matter-of-factly, “Just… wait. Okay?” Allison looked to Geno, and the man in question rubbed the back of his neck, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Mind… telling me what’s up? You two… this looks bad,” Allison said slowly, her heart leaping into her throat and causing words to become difficult.

“He’s comin’ with us, Al,” Geno said, “Don’t worry ‘bout nothin’ else, okay? It’s nothin’.”

When the woman looked back to Ben, he averted his gaze, muttering gruffly, “It’s not nothing. But it’s pressing. It’s… look. I’ll explain when we get to Geno’s place, okay?” Allison nodded, dumbfounded. Ben was hardly ever so shaken; she wondered what had gotten into the two of them.

The Iranian man turned and pushed himself out of the hall, past Geno, and practically power-walked to his room, half-storming, half rushing. She wasn’t sure if he was angry or terrified. Perhaps, she reasoned, he’s both.

Geno gave her a lingering stare, a frown firmly in place, before he returned to his things, resting at the top of the long stairwell that descended to their front door. Allison followed in silence after she finally grabbed her phone from her bed, holding it in her hand tightly instead of placing it in the holster that dangled from the strap of her purse.

After a few scant minutes, Ben emerged from his room, curly hair slicked back on the side where it was prevalent from the water it yet retained. He wore a black, torn-up tanktop with the logo of some superhero Allison didn’t recognise on it, his necklace only evident by the chain that led down beneath the shirt. Baggy grey cargo pants with ripped, frayed bottoms barely hid his black, scuffed-to-oblivion steel-toed boots which he kicked things with pointlessly when he was bored. On his back was a camouflage backpack with additional black padding at the bottom, likely meant more for electronic equipment like his laptop and peripherals than anything else.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said darkly, and started for the door, pushing past both Geno and Allison. When he did, she saw something she wasn’t used to seeing dangling from his belt: a sheathed combat knife. She knew he had it, but she’d never seen him use it, despite his insistence that it was worth having. He’d never carried it with him before – he wasn’t some showy mall-ninja that wanted to impress people – but he was paranoid, and she saw it clearly here as he pounded down the stairs to the door.

“I- I guess we’re going, then,” she said weakly to Geno, who only nodded, not meeting her gaze, walking down before her. She swallowed hard, looking down at her phone one last time before she, too, descended the stairs to where Ben held open the door and Geno waited beside him, both men looking, disturbingly, blank.

“Come on,” Ben sighed, locking the door and turning, “We’re going to fast way, down East Ninth, toward Erie City.” Geno looked startled, but nodded. East Ninth street was ever a business centre in Cleveland, but walking the street itself was dangerous. There were no sidewalks down the stretch of road, and the utility tunnels that ran beneath were notorious for Snatcher activity.

“Why?” Allison asked, standing still, “That’s asking for trouble.” She frowned, folding her arms, phone still clutched tightly in her natural hand.

“…we were told to. Let’s go.”

She looked to Geno, alarmed, who then looked to Ben, but the man was already walking rather briskly down the hall toward the elevator. Geno turned to move too, so she set her jaw, holstered her phone and rushed after them.

#allison sterling #benjamin bitar #evgeni novotska #power cycle #fiction #sci-fi #cyberpunk

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