#which for me is more being paralyzed by all the things i wanna draw right this very second | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ziracona · 3 years

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It’s my Birthday today and I wanted to start it off with updating a fic I’m enjoying writing. Hope you enjoy the read. : )

[Fate Grand Order AU fic] The Kid (pt: 1, ... 8, 9, 10, 11, ?)

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“Okay so, sorry, I’m still doing a little catch-up,” mutters Robin as we reach another corner and pause. Ahead, Emiya holds up a hand for us to halt and we do.

“Robin, do you have the mana for May King?” I hear Emiya’s voice in my head. Which, I appreciate being looped in on. Kind of thought he was going to be more of a pain to work with just because he could be, but he’s surprisingly practical and easy to work with for the uncooperative introduction we have. He seems real familiar with Robin’s abilities; gotta wonder where and when exactly they did meet—'specially since Robin barely seems to remember him at all.

Unlike me, poor Ritsuka looks like the frequent mental chatter is still something she’s trying to get used to; zones out a little every time someone communicates this way. I get it—took me a while to not be weirded out myself my first time summoned, and that was with the ability coming naturally, since I was a spirit.

“Hold that thought,” whispers Robin to me, then mentally to us all, “Yeah, a few times if it’s short. This important?”

“It’s not a difficult hall,” replies Emiya mentally, “But there’s too many people interacting with their security measures, and we haven’t gotten enough of us free yet. If we can’t disarm the magecraft security system and their personnel at once, someone might stay up just long enough to hit an alarm, and I’d prefer we free as many of us as possible before they figure out what we’re up to, since-“ He almost hesitates, glancing at Ritsuka for a split second, but he doesn’t. “-they might just start to kill them.”

Makes sense. I know it. They have catalysts to get us all back, and we have no idea where those are. I hate it, but he’s right—they’d definitely do it. Pretty sure I see Ritsuka connecting the same dots.

“Roger. I’ll move ahead into position,” says Robin mentally, cracking his neck as he moves up, “Give me about six seconds to find a good vantage point, then I’ll go as soon as I sense mana from you going after the security system.”

“Can we help?” asks Ritsuka worriedly in my head.

“If something goes wrong,” replies Robin telepathically, “Hopefully we won’t need it.” He stands then. “Sorry Mast—Ritsuka. I’m going to take a little bit out of you with this, but it’s only a skill, utilized this way, so it shouldn’t be too bad.” At my side, Robin glances down and gives a nod, then vanishes—not to spirit form, just flat out invisible. God it’s so cool! It always has been. Wish I could vanish like that; be useful as hell when dodging pursuers or trying to get an edge! Wish it was a thing he could teach me, but it don’t work like that—it’s a skill earned in life, and it’s all the thief of the forest’s.

Ahead, Ritsuka’s eyes widen as she watches him vanish, but she follows where I think he might be—she’s connected more than we are to each other, so she probably has a better idea than I do. Honest, it’s weird to have a guess where he is at all; I...don’t think I’ve ever been co-servant to someone before. It’s different, but, I like it. I like having a team. I mean, I’ve had allies before, but this ain’t the same. I can sense Robin a little myself like this, but I gotta wonder just how different it feels to be a master.

Emiya places his hand against the wall and whispers somethin’, and I feel a pulse of mana from him and hear the sudden ‘flishk’ of drawn bow strings releasing and movement, plus one choked, barely audible cry, then several quiet thuds all in rapid succession.

“Clear,” comes Robin’s voice in our heads.

Emiya smiles and steps out, Ritsuka and me behind him, and Robin materializes ahead of us between five guards sprawled unconscious along the ground. Kinda amazed how well we’re doing so far—damn it I’m gonna jinx us, but still! Non-lethal is way harder, and we’re still doing ok.

Looking amazed by the scene, Ritsuka rushes up to Robin. “Wow, that was incredible!” she whispers excitedly, “How do you do that? —How did you know he could do that?” she adds, turning big eyed to Emiya.

Robin and Emiya share a glance, slightly awkward. Huh, don’t seem like Emiya knows him too well, from the way he’s lookin’ at him; which makes it weirder he knows so much about his skills. Maybe…they fought? They don’t seem hostile to each other at all, but somethin’ like a Holy Grail War, where mages force you to kill each other, God knows I’ve fought my share of people I had no desire to kill and who really had no desire to kill me either. I could see it bein’ somethin’ like that. …Maybe?

“It’s uh, an inherited custom from the Celts,” says Robin, “I picked up some tricks, when I was on the run so much, and I guess it was pretty good, because as a servant, it lets me do that.”

Ritsuka looks at Emiya for his half of an answer.

“...We’ve met,” offers Emiya vaguely.

“Oh,” says Ritsuka in surprise, “So. You and Billy and Robin-?”

“—No, we never met,” I interject, gesturing between me and Emiya.

“Okay, so, different times?” checks Ritsuka, “When-”

“-I don’t mean to be rude,” says Emiya gently, “But we don’t really have time to discuss this.” He gestures to the waiting door and Ritsuka flushes.

“R-right—I’m sorry—it’s just interesting how you all meet and I want to know more—“

“-Hey, don’t worry kid,” says Robin, clapping her on the back, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know later. To answer your question,” he adds casually, moving to the door and drawing back a leg to kick, “I’m not sure about him, but I don’t remember.” With one solid slam from his foot, Robin snaps through the remaining physical lock on the door so it slides open, and in the one second before I’m distracted by what’s inside, I notice Emiya raise an eyebrow. Huh. So you do remember.

I get a glimpse into the room ahead then, and every thought goes out of my head. Except ‘The...hell?’

It’s different. It’s so different. I know it’s only been me and Robin so far, but it’s not the death bed with a withered corpse I expected at all. The spirit in this room is very much alive, and it is furious.

The cell is circular, with more seals carved into and drawn on the floor and walls and ceiling than I can process, and the spirit is dead center of them all, with heavy, bulky, painful looking restraints locked around his feet and forearms, another thick band around his waist and more on his thighs, his neck, his upper arms, each attached to a different heavy chain drawn taut, tugging in opposite directions of each other and making it as close as it can to impossible for him to move at all. He’s got a blindfold on too, also metal and painful looking, and a gag, but he’s not kneeling under the weight of it all like I was, or immobile and weak like Robin; he’s thrashing madly with the tiny, limited movement he has. His head snaps in our direction when we enter, and I hear his muffled, angry shouts even from here. He’s choking himself and ripping at the skin on his arms and legs and neck, but still, he’s fighting—and wildly. In fact, I’m pretty sure the seals around the room are the only thing keeping him captive at all.

It hurts to watch, seeing one of us rip blindly at his restraints, trying to break free like a dog being forced into in a fighting ring. But, I’m also impressed. Astounded. He doesn’t seem scared at all, just angry, and there’s something reassuring about it. ‘Specially since he’s short too.

“Huh,” says Emiya, the same look on his face I figure is on mine, and is definitely on Ritsuka. She snaps out of it first though, and starts to rush toward the blinded spirit, then hesitates because we’ve all balked too.

“...Can’t one of you break the locks? Like for Robin?” asks Ritsuka worriedly, half-turning to face us.

“Probably, but we don’t know what happens if we step in the circle,” explains Emiya, indicating the etchings above, below, and all around us.

“Yeah, I don’t speak mage runes, but I’m pretty sure that says some version of ‘if you’re a heroic spirit, get fucked,‘ ’cause I can feel that from here. —I got you though,” I add quickly, “move a little left and I’ll shoot one from here.” Thank God for long ranged skills! Both of the others seem chagrined I’m the first to think of this; can’t decide if I should be proud, or insulted by that.

Ritsuka hops to the side, and I aim, but I hesitate again with my gun drawn. The man in front of me is blinded and I don’t think he can hear well, because he ain’t reacted to anything we’ve said—only our presence—and he’s flipped out. If I free him, he might lash out, and Ritsuka is closer than we are. I’d rush in, of course, but I have no idea if stepping in that circle would paralyze me.

“Hey Boss—Partner?” I correct, lowering my gun just a little, “I don’t think he can hear well with that thing on his head. He’s panicked and angry—might be a bad idea to cut him loose without explaining who we are. Even if he don’t attack us, he’s probably gonna make a lot of noise, and we don’t need that.”

“Oh,” says Ritsuka, looking from him to me. Ahead, the spirit lunges in our direction with a fury I understand and makes me pretty sure I’m right that he has no idea who we are.

“Think you can calm him down? I could shout from here, but we don’t wanna he heard, and you probably got a better shot anyway. Not sure how much he can hear, but he’s gotta be able to hear a little, since he seems to know where we are without his eyes. Try talking to him—let him know we’re here to help ‘fore I break him free?” I suggest.

“Uhm,” she says, looking from him to me, “I’ll try.”

I feel bad immediately, seeing the moment of fear in her before she moves forward, so I take another step, close as I can get without hitting the circle, and call after her, “Don’t worry! Promise; he makes a move to hurt you, I’ll stop him before he even gets close; easy shot from here, ‘n I’m a crack shot—I won’t miss. ‘N don’t worry—won’t hurt him too much, either,” I add with a wink.

She glances back and smiles at me, worry mostly evaporated, and I grin back.

“Okay,” she whispers to herself, and then she turns to the bound figure up ahead.

He hears her coming, and there’s a muffled scream of rage from him as he tears at the chains holding him back. We’re not any of us an easy thing to contain, and I can sense how much he knows it, how furious and how ready to make whoever did this pay.

Beside me, I sense movement and out of the corner of my eyes, and I make out Robin and Emiya both moving, Emiya first, materializing a bow and readying a shot like I am, Robin doing the same with an arrow on his crossbow, but pivoting to keep an eye behind us, on the hall. Bases covered.

Carefully, Ritsuka takes another step, edging closer. About fifteen feet from him now in the big room. He definitely knows where she is—even blindfolded, his head moves with her and he thrashes in her direction as threateningly as he can like he is. The restraints on his legs and arms are bulky, so I can’t see his hands or feet, but the places they end on his forearms and calves are bleeding from his attempts to rip free.

“I-it’s okay,” says Ritsuka, taking another careful step over one of the taut chains, and putting her hands up calming and nonthreateningly as she proceeds moving closer. He can’t see her, but of course she still is. “It’s alright. We a-”

The spirit uses his neck to rip the chain around it back with all his might, and I realize almost too late it’s the one she’s just now carefully stepping over.

I can’t think of a way to stop it long-distance, so I bolt. The second my foot goes over the first seal though, I feel an intense amount of mana hit me, and I knew it was coming, but it’s SO much worse than I expect, and I can’t move. It’s so much. It’s agonizing, like being hit with a bolt of lightning! The hell kind of seal-! Fuck! I—can move, damn it! I will!

I can! I can. I just... It takes immense effort, but I feel my muscles starting to move. I’m gonna be way too late—I should—

Arm throbbing with pain, I drag my hand up to level a shot as the chain snaps into her leg and she yelps and pivots forward. If he has a real plan and some way to grab her, least I can shoot him first, but something closes around the back of my vest and I’m flung backwards with force onto the safe ground outside.

“Idiot!” calls Emiya irritated over his shoulder, “You don’t have the magic resistance of an Archer! Stay out there!”

He’s...right, but. Even Robin and he shouldn’t...?

How is he doing that?

It’s been less than two seconds and he’s already there. He barely even lost steam throwing me. I-I am watching him shoot to her side with such speed I could almost swear he teleported, through a bounded field. He catches Ritsuka like it’s nothing while she’s still in the air, and rights her as she yelps in surprise, then jumps and flings himself back out of range of the circle, landing just outside it far on the right side with a little wince and a grimace. I gape at him from on the ground. It did hurt then, doing that. The field—It did hit him. He just...got through? The hell kind of magic resistance you got? I know Archer’s a knight class and that gets you some, but...

This is something else. I don’t know what. I-I didn’t think any of us could move in there, once I felt it; that can’t just be magic resistance can it? But it’s something. I want to ask, but I know it’s not the time. He glances at me though, after making sure Ritsuka is fine and giving her a nod when she checks over his should to see if everything is okay and she should keep going, and I realize to my surprise I’m pretty sure he’s doing the same with me—checking in to see I’m okay. I manage a nod as well.

“You okay?” asks Robin from behind me.

“Yeah,” I answer. My gun’s been leveled the whole time, but I’m only now remembering to get to my feet again, and do, eyes on the chained spirit the whole time, “Those things always sting, but it ain’t as bad as some other recent memories.”

I kind of expect Robin to say something back, but he doesn’t, so I turn 100% of my attention to the people in the middle of the room.

“It’s okay!” tries Ritsuka again, facing the bound spirit but hesitating to move forward out there now, “Please stop fighting us! I’m not an enemy; we’re trying to help you, I swear!”

I don’t feel a change in the atmosphere at all—the spirit is still radiating anger—but he stops tearing at his bindings for a moment when she speaks and just stands there breathing hard, blindfolded eyes turned towards her and blood running down his neck and limbs.

“Thank you,” says Ritsuka, smiling and holding up a hand in thanks with the word even though he can’t see it, before moving forward again, “If you just listen, I-I can explain—I promise, we’re not here to hurt you. We aren’t with the people who locked you up. We broke in here to try and help. Everyone but me in here is another heroic spirit, and we’re all trying to help you—help all the spirits trapped in here!”

The man stays still and tilts his head slowly, considering her. Mistrustful, I think, like I was. But he’s hopeful, or desperate, too—not sure why they’d send her to lie, which is enough to make you hope.

“I-I’m gonna get a little closer now, okay?” says Ritsuka, edging towards him again, “And see if I can get any of those chains off you. The others can probably do it if I can’t, but they’re all spirits so they’re having a hard time getting past the uh—the seals.”

He tilts his head back upright and then the other way, and tracks her movement by sound as she gets closer. The guy is still breathing heavy and clearly on edge, but he lets her get close this time.

When she reaches him, Ritsuka holds her hand up. I don’t think he’s going to lash out, but I don’t trust like that—‘specially knowing the pressure he’s under firsthand—and so I keep my gun trained on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay? To see if I can figure out how this is fastened. P-Please don’t hit me.”

She stutters nervously on that last line, and I see just a little of the tension in the man’s shoulders loosen. Interesting. I guess that means whoever he is, he ain’t the most hardened sort, if he’s feelin’ empathy for a stranger while trapped like that.

Ritsuka moves a little to the side for a better look and touches the back of the shackle blinding him, and he flinches and pulls away a half-inch on impulse, breathing quickening for a second, then goes still again. This must be agonizing for him.

“Really is okay!” I call out in a hushed voice, even though like that he probably can’t hear me. I can’t risk drawing security, but-

Emiya side-eyes me for a second. I can’t tell if the look is annoyed or amused. Guess it don’t matter.

“Okay—it’s pretty simple. Just a little bolt again,” says Ritsuka in relief. I hear a metallic ‘click’ and then she’s pulling the metal blindfold off him, and there’s a fairly young man—maybe early 30s at a guess—looking back at her then. He’s not very bulky, and taller than me, but not tall, kinda long and shaggy green hair, and a face I don’t recognize at all with red marks all over it where the metal bit in, a few little trickles of blood runnin’ down his forehead and cheekbones from it. The most notable thing though is the expression on his face. He registers Ritsuka’s form as she lowers the blindfold and his eyes go wide. The man blinks at her a few times, then quickly looks up, clocks me and Robin and Emiya, seems relieved, and looks back questioningly at Ritsuka. Almost all of his readiness to lash out has vanished in an instant.

“Hi,” says Ritsuka, smiling at him, “I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru. Nice to meet you. Thank you for not hitting me.”

The man blinks again, and gives her a little nod. I see more of his tension ease.

“I’m really sorry this happened to you. We’re here to help—those two were stuck here too.” She pauses to point to me and Robin, and I give him a little hat tip, Robin a two-fingered wave in acknowledgement.

Our Master—I mean partner—friend? —Ritsuka, she looks down at some of the other oddly bulky shackles, and then back up at the now much more calmly waiting man. I’m trying to guess who he could be. We had letter, earring, kunai, and a pot, according to her, ‘long with my and Robin’s catalysts. He’s definitely not Asian—looks maybe...middle eastern, Semitic? Not sure though. Either way, I’m willing to bet he’s not the kunai, so that leaves broken pot, earring, and letter. None of which help much. I don’t have a good guess, and that’s only if they haven’t gotten more since Ritsuka saw catalysts anyway, but, whoever he is, he seems level-headed and decent at least, so I’m takin’ this all so far as a good sign.

“The ones on your arms and legs have real locks, so I’m not sure I can get them—I’ll have to have one of the guys shoot them off from outside the circle,” says Ritsuka, looking sorry.

I look at Robin and Emiya, because what I got’s loud; the two of them exchange looks, and Emiya sighs and turns to study the chains for a second, then summons a long, thin…arrow? and draws.

“But let me get the gag first—I think I can get that too,” says Ritsuka smiling at the man as she reaches up to do it. Much less on his guard now, he stoops for her to make it easier to reach, still watching her carefully though. Or, actually, interested more than careful, maybe, at second glance. Huh. Very level-headed man.

The gag makes a snap sound, and Ritsuka pulls it off. Relieved, the man opens his mouth and kind of rolls his jaw, trying to get the taste of it out, then straightens back up and smiles at Ritsuka. “Well thank you very much, for that and the rescue.”

Unbelievably calm. But I don’t think he’s being fake—he’s just got some kinda personality.

“Where did you come from, Miss...Fujimaru, yes?” he asks, and she nods, “How did someone as young as you end up-” he tries to gesture, immediately hits already taut chain, and winces, “-here?”

“Wrong, or, right, depending on how you look at it, place at the right time,” answers Ritsuka.

He’s definitely curious, but he just gives a nod of acknowledgement.

“Oh—before you do that,” she says to Emiya, then turns back to the man, “Uhm, you’re probably connected to the building somehow, and if we break those, you’ll run out of mana. Or. You aren’t actually that hurt,” she adds like she’s only just now really thinking about it, “But you’ll still vanish pretty fast if we sever your connection to mana, won’t you?”

“Yes and no,” says the man, clearly surprised by how much she has figured out, “You’re right they somehow altered the contracts to let the technology itself provide us with mana, and we can break the contracts physically, like you would killing a Master, by breaking the machine.”

“Why?” she asks, lost.

“They want to sell us. This makes us easily transportable, and it’s not like a mage could support one of us alone outside a ritual easily anyway,” says the man, a bit of that earlier rage and spite sinking back into his tone. He refocuses on Ritsuka and smiles again. “But I’m an Archer, so I can survive for a little bit on my own—week or two—without an anchor, since I’m not in terrible shape.”

“Another fucking Archer?” asks Robin without thinking, almost affronted disbelief in his voice and his face when I turn to look and see him gaping.

Wait.

“Oh shit, he’s right! Did they only take Archers? Why??” I ask.

“That is almost upsetting somehow,” says Emiya thoughtfully, “They didn’t summon me, but two and a half out of six of you so far is still super weird.”

“You’d think we’d be less good picks, since we can survive so long on our own. They should be grabin’ Casters or somethin’,” I agree in confusion.

“Wait, all three of you are Archers?” asks the man.

“I’m a gunner,” I say like ‘kind of’ while Robin says “Yeah,” with irritation and Emiya says, “I guess.”

“That is weird,” says the man to Ritsuka, “but I don’t think we have time to discuss it. Their security might not be perfect, but they aren’t idiots.”

She nods. “Uhm, okay. Well, in that case, I guess you don’t need to contract right now to be okay, but if you’d like to—to help you fight better or without worrying about disappearing, you can contract with me—if you want.”

His expression is one of a man hearing something that made complete sense until suddenly it made absolutely none at all. “...C. ...You? But.” He looks over at the rest of us, then back at her, “are none of the others...? -You know, outside a ritual, even a strong mage will be exhausted by that?”

“Oh, I know,” says Ritsuka quickly, nodding, “I’m not good at magic yet, and can’t do almost any spells, but my circuits are weird and apparently I have such a massive pool of mana I can support multiple heroic spirits on my own without a grail or anything!”

He stares at her like that straight up can’t compute. Blinks slowly. Looks at us.

“Yeah,” I say. She looks so proud of herself. It makes me happy! And weirdly proud too.

“It’s true,” agrees Robin, “Got no idea how many she can carry, but we’re three so far, and she hasn’t slowed down a bit.”

“Wow,” says the man, looking back at her with big eyes, “That’s quite a skill.” He considers for a moment and then smiles to himself. “Todah,” he says quietly, almost fondly, and then, “What a blessing; God never ceases to surprise. I will happily take you up on your offer Ba’al, I accept.” He gives a little, awkward and slightly painful looking bow as best he can still bound. “My true name is David, and I am an Archer. Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh,” says Ritsuka, surprised and flattered. She flushes and holds out a hand, then realizes he can’t take one the way it is. He smiles at her and bows his head forward instead, resting it against her outstretched fingers. “Uhm.” She takes a second to find her footing. “My soul becomes your will, your spirit becomes my destiny. If you hear me and agree, accept me and join, Archer.”

It’s softer than I’ve heard her say it before. Funny how many ways I’ve heard it now. Desperate, to me, afraid of losing me. Intense and pleading, to Emiya, begging for help. Kind and intent and sincere to Robin. And now here, soft and happy. I got no idea why that’s all so significant to me, but it is. I feel like I’m gonna remember it. I hope I will.

…I…

….Haven’t thought about that for a while, but now that the thought’s there, my gut sinks and my heart with it.

I might not. …So often, the Throne won’t let us remember anything from a summon once we die and get dragged back to it. God only knows how many Ritsukas I didn’t want to forget as bad as I don’t wanna forget this now, and don’t even get to know to be sad I can’t remember.

I hate that thought. ...

In the center of the room, a light flashes from Ritsuka’s hand at the point of connection, and I can feel a faint attachment of my own to David now. Try to focus on that instead. On how odd it feels to be under the same master as someone else, but not bad—just so different, in a way it’s hard to really get over.

David, he said? Right—which David? WAIT.

“David?” I ask way too fast, interrupting this beautiful moment without thinking, my mind completely blank outside of one sudden fear, “Wait, which David who’s an Archer—you’re not-?”

He looks over surprised and then gives me a kind of sheepish smile. “King David of Israel. Son of Jesse and Nitzevet, father of Solomon, my successor.”

Oh my God. Oh God; fuck—I’m so glad I didn’t shoot him.

Emiya is taking this in stride, but Robin looks at least a little something, and Ritsuka’s eyes have gone huge. “You’re a king? Wait. You’re from. -” She’s floundering, so I step in to save her.

“-King David? I—Hi, Billy the Kid; I’m so honored to meet you! I never met a Biblical-uhh-T-Torah-ical,” shit now I’m floundering worse god damn it; I was trying I—I just never seen someone from the...th-the actual religion that—I practice, before—I.

Totally nonplussed, King David shakes his head dismissively with a smile. “I know what you mean; pleased to meet you all. Please though, just call me David. My days as a King are long past, and on the Throne, I have been called to serve others again. I was a shepherd before I was a king, and I have always been the both. Think of me as just another companion, because right now, it’s who I am.”

“Whoa,” says Ritsuka, still a little pale and in awe, “Th-thank you. Okay, David. I-It’s great to meet you too. —I’m so sorry! What am I doing?! -Emiya, can you?” She glances over and sees his bow drawn, nods, and hops out of his way.

King David glances at Emiya, then holds perfectly still, and the archer draws a quick series of shots that tear through the restraints nearly simultaneously in a little shower of sparks and screeching metal. Some kinda style; don’t think I’ve ever seen someone shoot what was clearly swords just now off a bow string before. Huh. Who are you?

The chains fall away, and King David raises his arms and looks at his hands, flexes them, and takes in the bruising and lacerations on his body from trying to get free.

“I’ll try to heal you,” offers Ritsuka, stepping up to him. He glances over at her. “I’m still learning, so I’m not sure I can fix it all, but I’m sure I can help!”

He smiles and gives a nod, stoops a little and offers her his arms. She takes them in her hands, scrunches her face up and shuts her eyes, and I sense a quick, small pulse of mana. It’s amazing how much she picked up in one night. I’m kinda in awe, watchin’ the worst bruises fade, and the cuts that are still bleeding close up and start to heal. It ain’t perfect, like me, like Robin, but it’s a hell of a lot, and King David looks pleased and maybe a little impressed himself.

“Thank you, Ba’al,” says King David, “I’m good to go now.”

Ritsuka opens her eyes and beams at him. She’s sweating a little again from the effort, but it ain’t bad. She’s holdin’ up like a champ so far. “Great!” she says, “Let’s get moving, then!” She takes a step and spins right back around back to face King David. “—Oh. Can you walk out okay? Do I need to carry you?”

Kind David looks incredibly tickled by that offer, but he shakes his head. “I’ve got extremely good magic resistance, even for an Archer—I’d love to get out of this seal now though—it’s quite agonizing.” Without extra comment, he slides his hands under her armpits and lifts her up, then speed single-hops right out of the seal, like Emiya did, and sets her down gently.

“Oh—uh—thanks,” says Ritsuka, surprised but not bothered, “okay—sorry for taking so long,” she adds to us three, “Let’s get to the next one!”

Emiya gives a nod and moves to take point again, motioning us after.

“Question,” says Robin quietly as we slide out into the hall, watching King David’s surprised and little else expression as he takes in the unconscious guards, “I’m uh, really glad for you that you weren’t on death’s door like us—don’t get me wrong—but I thought that was their whole thing. Why were you just kind of...imprisoned? It’s a weird break of form. Might be significant.”

“Oh, that,” says David, “it is a break of form, but it’s not very significant, except I guess as proof they’re not exactly the most seasoned of field mages, no matter how much money, staff, and technical skill they have. They didn’t know which King they were going to get, summoning me. Just the general power of the catalyst—guess they got it not very legally, even for a catalyst. And unfortunately for them, I’m not a great candidate for death-battery-whatever they’re doing, because I died peacefully in my sleep as an old man.”

“The dream,” I say just loud enough for only Robin next to me to hear, and he shoots me a barely restrained smile.

“So then,” continues Robin, “Why keep you? Dangerous to leave one of us alive and motivated to rip shit apart.”

“Mmm,” agrees King David with a nod, “But they weren’t going to keep me. They were going to sell me, contract and all, to the highest bidder. Contacted a lot of mage groups.”

Ritsuka looks so horrified hearing that. It’s sweet, and a little sad, because Robin and I aren’t even surprised by it. It’s not really even odd; it makes sense. That’s how mages act, and that’s how we get treated.

“Any idea who or what for?” asks Robin.

“Hey,” comes Emiya’s voice in our heads, “Uh ahead. Sensing a containment field like the rest, but no guards at all this time.”

“That’s...weird,” says Ritsuka back mentally. She keeps closing her eyes to talk in her head when she starts, and it’s endearingly funny to watch. “I mean...I don’t want to jinx us, but hasn’t this all been...too easy? When I got Billy out, I had a huge explosion and the element of surprise, and no tripped alarms and a working pass, and I still barely got out. Here they’re already on high alert, and we’ve freed three heroic spirits now, and they’re not guarding the rest or checking their rooms?”

Huh. I mean, I’m not as familiar as she is with building security, but she’s right that they’ve been...weirdly placed.

“Yes,” agrees Emiya, tone firm, “it is strange. There are a lot of armed people here, and security, but even with all the luck in the world, it’s almost unbelievable they haven’t pinpointed us yet, and we haven’t hit more security. It’s like...”

“...A trap?” I ask nervously.

“...No,” says Emiya out loud as we all reach a corner and pause together, “It’s like someone’s helping us.”

“What?” says Ritsuka, taken aback.

“There’s too many people weirdly scattered for it to feel like a trap,” says Emiya, “It’s more like watching moves on a shogi board where someone is trying very hard to make sure they lose. The pieces are all here, they just keep...being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or, sure not being in the right one anyway.”

“Nobody helped you before, right?” I ask.

Ritsuka shakes her head.

Considering, King David tilts his head and lets out low ‘hmmmm,’ then says, “…There are people here right now, for me.”

“Hm?” says Robin.

“Other mage groups—their representatives. Rivals, some of them. To bid. It’s possible, not sure, but, someone might be grabbing this opportunity for a little self-serving corporate espionage.”

“God willing,” says Robin, cracking his neck again, “Love it if some selfish spineless little prick picked now to do something that helps us. Enemy of my enemy, and all.”

“That seems plausible, but since we can’t be sure, I know there’s no point saying ‘stay alert’ when we all already are, but, be ready for something to go wrong. It might,” says Emiya, and then he grimaces like ‘maybe shouldn’t have said that,’ looks at Ritsuka, and says, “it also might not. Just pays to prepare.”

She nods, and we all turn to face the hall. Emiya places his hand on the wall again and I feel a faint pulse of mana from him.

“Yup, definitely a servant up ahead. One floor up, almost directly above us. ‘Bout one room further,” says Emiya, pointing, “We can take the elevator shaft—probably less likely to draw attention than destroying the floor, and if we do have someone helping us with some corporate espionage or just a really incompetent new security staff, let’s not make it hard on them to keep going.”

17 notes · View notes

ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 4 years

Text

Sweet Pandemonium - Gally (The Maze Runner) Part 6 of 16

Kinda OOC Gally at the beginning, but I can do what I want, shuck you!

~~~~~~~~~~

(not my GIF <3)

You groaned as the dawn of a new day hit you directly in the face. You absolutely hated mornings, and the ever increasing ache in your back from sleeping in the dirt didn’t make things any better. But, you just kept telling yourself that you get out of the Slammer this morning.

You sat up to see Thomas already awake, fiddling with some pieces of grass that managed to grow inside the cell. “Hope you slept better than I did.” You yawned, hearing a couple satisfying cracks when you stretched out.

Thomas chuckled softly. “No, not really.”

You hummed in thought. “That can’t be good, not getting a good sleep, especially since you’re a Runner now.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.” He huffed.

Minho’s slightly silhouetted figure walking towards the cells caught your attention, and you moved closer to the wooden bars that separated the cells. “Be careful today, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid.” You told Thomas with concern etched onto your face.

Thomas looked confused for a moment, but then nodded once. “I’ll try not to.”

“Y’all look cozy in there.” Minho joked. “Sure you don’t wanna sit this one out?”

“Come on man, get us outta here.” Thomas chuckled.

The cool morning mildew on the grass tickled at your ankles as you hopped out of your cell, the chill giving you goosebumps over your arms. “Good luck out there.” You told the boys.

“What are you, our mother?” Minho sassed, making you roll your eyes.

“We’ll be careful.” Thomas reassured, and you gave him a grateful smile and then giving Minho a sharp glare, which only made him grin.

You watched as the maze doors opened yet again, like clockwork, feeling a clench in your gut as Minho and Thomas ran in. You wished you weren’t such a worrier.

You shook your head, he’s gonna be fine. They both are. But first order of business you made for yourself, you wanted to check in on Alby. Maybe whoever was watching over him a break, if the shank needed it.

Second was to find Chuck, give him that hug that you promised him the night before. You weren’t one to like breaking promises, no matter how tedious it may be. But you could see him at lunch, give him the hug and half your slop that Frypan would serve today.

For all the jokes, you actually enjoyed his cooking, not that you had anything else to compare it to.

Third, you really wanted to sleep in your nice hammock. But since you couldn’t, not until it was the time anyway, you just planned to work just like any other day. Go and build whatever the shuck you were building today.

Heading over to the Med-jacks, you saw a few of your fellow Builders heading over to the Homestead, one of the boys giving you a friendly smile as he passed. Odd, you thought, shouldn’t they be on the way to the Builder’s station? Well, it wasn’t like you were at the moment, so you had no reason to judge you supposed.

You greeted Jeff at the door to Alby’s room. “How is he?” You asked.

Jeff sighed. “Still passed out. Clint’s watching over him right now.”

“Does he need a break or anything?”

Jeff smiled a little. “He just switched out, he’s good to go for a couple hours. Thanks though.”

“Oh, okay.” You nodded, turning back to exit the building, heading over to the Builder’s area.

You smiled to yourself when you saw Gally, his brow furrowed that signaled that he was intensely focused on whatever he was doing. You still didn’t see any other Builders around. “Hey, Gal.” You greeted.

Gally quickly snapped his head towards you with a smile, subtly standing in front of the work bench that had a couple blueprints scrawled over it. “Sleep well?” He teased, knowing fully well you didn’t.

“Ha ha, very funny.” You responded sarcastically. “So, where is everyone? Do we not have work today or something?”

“Uh, no, we do. Just fixing up some broken flooring in the Homestead.”

“Oh. Well, let’s head on over there then.” You went to start walking over, but Gally stopped you

“No, wait,” Gally stuttered, making you look back at him in slight shock. He never stuttered. “Uh, not us.”

You furrowed your brows with a nervous chuckle. “Why is that?”

“Uh, well, uh,” Gally stuttered a bit more, it was starting to concern you.

“Gal, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He said quickly, making you try to stifle another chuckle. He sighed frustratingly.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Should you go see Jeff?”

“Yes, I’m fine, really. I just...ah, shuck it, I’m no good at this.” He took a deep breath. “Remember how you said that you wanted your own place to sleep, away from the Homestead?”

It took a bit of memory retrieval, but you remembered. It was around the first week of being in the Glade. “Yeah, I remember. Especially when you said, ‘Oh, the Homestead not good enough for you, princess?’”

Gally cringed at himself. “Can we just pretend I didn’t say that?”

You giggled and nodded. “Sure thing, Captain. So, why do you ask?”

Gally smirked and moved to the side, allowing you to see the messy blueprint that he was blocking, revealing measurements for a rushed looking drawing of some sort of hut.

You gasped and snapped you head to look at Gally’s slightly flustered face. “Gally.” You said in shock.

Gally scratched the back of his neck and turned his focus to the blueprint. “It’s not much, I know. I sorta made a rough draft of a plan last night when you were in the Pit. Only being here for a short time, I figure you probably aren’t used to sleeping in the same building with a bunch of ugly dudes.” He chuckled nervously.

“Gally...”

“Ah, you hate it, don’t you? I just wanted to make up for getting you punished yesterday. I can do something else if-”

“Gally!” You interrupted with a huge grin on your face.

“W-What?”

You shook your head gleefully. Gally flinched when you threw your arms around his neck, paralyzing him in shock. “I love it, Gally. Thank you.” You grinned into his shoulder.

Gally slowly brought his arms around you and leaned into your embrace, sighing in relief that you didn’t just tear up the blueprints in rage. “Good...that’s good.” He whispered breathlessly.

You pulled away from the hug, still wearing a grin on your face, the muscles starting to ache since it’s been a while since you’ve smiled so much. “Are we gonna get to build it today?” You asked while bouncing on the balls of your feet, causing Gally to smile at your childlike excitement.

“Yeah, at least the foundation. It’s kinda why I wanted it to be just us building it, without those other shanks, you know.” He chuckled. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, of course! Where we building it?”

“I was thinking near the tree line maybe? Near the gardens? It’s quiet there most of the time.”

“Sounds good. Let’s get started then.” You smiled, going over the blueprint to see how the framing would be set up and how long the measurements for how long the planks should be. It was a fairly simple structure, probably only would take a few days to build. Maybe four, if all went well.

You were excited. You’ve always wanted a place for yourself, but always thought yourself selfish for thinking it. It took a lot of self control for you to not do more than just hug Gally however. Just seeing how nervous he was about his plan, since he was usually so confident in everything he does. You’ll be honest, it was super sweet to see.

Gally felt elated after seeing you get so excited about something he made, well, planned to make. If he could’ve made the hut for you overnight, then he would’ve. But he felt so tired after spending a couple hours coming up with a decent blueprint. He was only one guy after all.

Gally didn’t realize he was staring at you sawing a piece of wood until you smiled at him, sweat beading at your forehead. He quickly felt the blood rush to his cheek and tried to focus back on his own task. He hated how flustered only you could make him.

After a couple hours sawing and nailing pieces of boards together to make a wooden foundation, Gally called for a little break just to look it over before moving on.

It was a floorless frame, but you could already imagine what it would be like to sleep alone without a bunch of snoring boys around you.

You looked to Gally to see him already looking at you with a soft smile. “What?” You smiled.

Gally simply shook his head, locking eyes with you before clearing his throat. “Lunch will be soon. We should go wash up.”

You nodded bashfully. “Yeah, Thomas and Minho should be back soon too.”

Gally rolled his eyes at the mention of Thomas, but nodded anyway. “Let’s see what that shank did now.”

You couldn’t help but snort at the comment.

You and Gally stood together at the maze doors with some of the other Gladers, all confused by the loud shifting sounds from inside the Maze. You smiled in relief when you saw the two Runners rounding the corner of the corridor and swiftly entering the Glade. “Well, what the hell’s going on out there?” Newt quickly asked the exhausted boys.

“Yeah, the hell you’ve done now, Thomas?” Gally asked, making you glare at him.

“We found something. A new passage, we think it could be a way out.” Thomas explained.

You quickly jogged to catch up with Thomas. “Are you serious?”

“It’s true.” Minho panted. “We opened a door, something I’ve never seen before. Think it must be where the Grievers go during the day.”

“Whoa, wait.” Chuck said. “What, you’re saying you found the Grievers home? And you want us to go in?”

“Their way in could be our way out, Chuck.” Thomas replied.

“Yeah, or, there could be a dozen Grievers on the other side. The truth is, Thomas doesn’t know what he’s done, as usual.” Gally expressed angrily, causing Thomas to quickly confront him.

“Yeah, well, at least I did something, Gally. I mean, what have you done, huh? Aside from hide behind these walls all the time?” Thomas snapped.

“Thomas...” You spoke up, trying to stop the argument.

“Let me tell you something, Greenie, you’ve been here three days, alright? I’ve been here three years-”

“Yeah, you’ve been here three years and you’re still here, Gally!” Thomas interrupted. “Alright, so what does that tell you, man? Maybe you should start doing things a little differently.”

“Thomas!” You snapped, sighing in frustration when they kept arguing, then noticing Teresa walk up to the crowd that surrounded the arguing pair.

“Hey!” Teresa finally interrupted the pair. “It’s Alby. He’s awake.”

“He is?” You asked. She nodded, turning back to the Med-jacks infirmary.

Thankfully, Gally and Thomas stopped bickering for the sake of being there for Alby. You tried not to glare at both the boys, so you just walked behind with Newt. “You alright?” He asked.

You sighed. “Yeah...” You glanced down to his leg. “How about you?” You tried not to mention how obvious his limp was today, knowing it was a touchy subject, but he knew what you were asking anyway.

“Just a bit more sore than usual. That’s all.” Newt weakly smiled.

Gally kept glancing back at you as you all were walking to the infirmary, but you kept your eyes to the ground.

“Has he said anything yet?” You asked Teresa as you entered Alby’s room.

“No.” She sighed.

“Alby.” Newt called out softly, slowly sitting down beside the stoic boy. “Alby, you alright?”

Alby didn’t respond. He just sat there, looking straight forward with tears in his eyes.

Thomas moved passed you to kneel in front of Alby. “Hey, Alby. We might’ve just found a way out of the Maze. You hear me? We could be getting out of here.”

Alby gently shook his head. “We can’t.” He whispered tearfully. “We can’t leave. They won’t let you.”

Thomas glanced back at the group for a moment. “What’re talking about?”

“I remember.”

“What do you remember?” Thomas asked, his voice wavering slightly.

Alby turned to look at Thomas. “You.” He said, making everyone turn to look at the shocked boy. “You were always their favorite, Thomas. Always.”

A commotion from outside caused you to lose on the conversation. What the hell was going on? When the shouting got louder, you ran outside, everyone else quickly following behind.

It was getting dark outside, a bunch of Gladers lighting up torches and running around in a frenzy. “What the hell is going on?” Thomas asked Winston.

“The doors, they aren’t closing.”

You looked to the doors and he was right, they weren’t closing. You and Gally gave each other worried looks, but you quickly followed after Thomas to stand in front of the doors. “I don’t understand. Why aren’t they closing?” You voiced, mostly to yourself, but you never got a response as an ear splitting clank echoed around the Glade.

You all looked in the direction of the noise, behind you, and what you saw was terrifying. Birds flying away in the distance as you all saw another entrance to the Maze opening up, the lack of use making it squeal and grind against the aligned stone pavement.

You didn’t even know there were other entrances, and by the look of everyone else’s faces...they didn’t either. You only noticed Gally moving you closer to him when another piercing clank echoed.

To the right, another entrance opening. Then one more...all four sides of the Maze were open.

“Okay, Chuck, I want you to go to council hall and start barricading the doors.” Thomas said.

“Winston, you go with him.” Newt said.

“Get the others. Tell them to go to the forest, go hide, now!” Gally ordered.

“Teresa, Y/N,” Thomas voiced, “we’re gonna go get Alby, okay?”

You were about to nod in agreement, but Gally grabbed your arm. “No, she’s staying with me.”

You didn’t have time to protest when all of a sudden, a bunch of Gladers to the left started running away screaming. A shrill howl was heard from where you all were standing. You all looked down the entrance to see a Griever, a real live Griever.

“Alright, everybody hide!” Thomas yelled.

“Come on!” Gally yelled, grabbing your hand and quickly forcing you to run with him.

It was the complete opposite direction of Thomas and Teresa, but you couldn’t hesitate or else you’d be Griever food. You just had to trust that they’d be safe, so you followed Gally.

You weren’t used to running for your life, you never had to, not from horrifying monsters. You probably weren’t the best runner, but you did your best to keep up with Gally and the two other Gladers that followed him.

You heard screams all around you, itching so bad to help whoever needed help. You teared up at the thought of your friends dying in pain, but you had to be selfish. You wiped away tears that were blurring your vision. Looking to the left of you, you saw a Glader, who you couldn’t remember the name of, injured, desperately trying to crawl to safety.

“Fuck...” You whispered to yourself, before turning to help the kid.

“Y/N, no!” Gally yelled, briefly stopping before making it to the Box.

You quickly made it to the boy, quickly seeing lacerations all over his body. “Help me...” He said pitifully, blood seeping out of his mouth. You didn’t hesitate as you helped onto his feet, the weight of him quickly slowing you down as he wasn’t that much help.

Gally looked on in panic as you stupidly played hero. His panic only grew more as he saw a Griever spotted you two. “Y/N, you gotta leave him! Now!”

You looked behind you to see a Griever quickly catching up to you and the nameless Glader. You looked to the boy with panicked eyes, seeing that he was on the verge of unconsciousness.

You let out a sob as you dropped the boy to the ground, the Griever quickly finishing the job and gnashing him up with its jagged razor sharp teeth.

You being able to run full speed gave Gally a smidge of relief, but you were so full of guilt that you couldn’t focus on how fast you were running. “Hurry!” Gally’s voice snapped you out of your your own head and you soon ran at full speed, but it was too late.

You yelped as the Griever wrapped its tail around your ankle, tripping you and making you plummet to the ground.

You rolled over to see one of the Griever’s metal legs open up to reveal a syringe, but just in time, you dodged and rolled away, only to be trapped beside another leg. The Griever looked at you, almost tauntingly, before opening up its disgusting mouth, causing its thick drool to pour out of its mouth heavily onto your face.

You couldn’t believe you were about it die by this ugly thing, with the most disgusting thing you’ve ever tasted in your mouth, besides Frypan’s food.

But death never came.

Before the monstrous creature could tear you to shreds, you heard it screech in pain and you felt yourself being harshly pulled out from underneath the Griever. “Gally?”

“You’re so shucking stupid!” Gally huffed, carrying you to the Box in his arms.

You were quickly placed in the arms of another Glader as Gally hopped in the Box and closed the doors, quickly shushing everyone.

You were gently placed down on the floor, and you suddenly noticed the throbbing pain in your leg. You lifted your pant leg up to see blood seeping out of multiple cuts up your lower leg.

After it was quiet for a few minutes, Gally finally exhaled harshly. The only thing your mind focused on was the distant screams of your fellow Gladers. Please be okay, you thought to yourself. “What the hell were you thinking?” Gally scolded, but still aware to keep his voice at a low volume even when he wanted to scream at you.

Knowing that he definitely wasn’t addressing that to the other Gladers, you lifted your gaze up to Gally’s enraged face. “I thought I could help him...” You whispered, looking back down to the floor in guilt and shame.

Gally quickly kneeled down to your level and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You almost died. You almost fucking died. Look at your fucking leg. You’re lucky it was only your leg.”

You harshly pushed Gally’s hand away, making his glare increase if that was even possible. “Well, I’m alive so...”

Gally gave you an incredulous look and stood up to pace around the Box.

Your bottom lip trembled, your face felt sticky. You lifted up the hem of your shirt to get at least some of the Griever’s drool off your face. You cringed when you pulled away the fabric, seeing that it mostly took off the drool. At least it wasn’t on your face anymore.

Gally sighed when he saw you looking over your wounds, his face softening slightly. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if you had been killed...

“Hey, Gally. It sounds like the Grievers are gone.” One of the Gladers said.

Gally leaned up and slightly peaked out the top of the Box. “I see everyone outside. Let’s go.” Gally said.

The same Glader helped you to your feet, you having a slight limp. You reluctantly took Gally’s hand and he pulled you up, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. “You okay?” He asked softly.

You nodded, testing out the strength of your wounded leg. “Just a flesh wound.” You said, hissing in pain when you put too much pressure on your leg.

Gally’s scowl came back when he saw your pained face. “This is all his fault.” He spat.

You immediately knew who he was talking about. “No, Gal-”

“It’s his fucking fault.” He turned to walk to council hall, leaving you to follow after him with your limp.

Gally stormed up to council hall, quickly finding Thomas in the crowd. It was hard to keep up with him, but you managed, and you were close enough to see him ball up fist tightly.

“Gally, no!” You shouted when he pulled is fist back and swiftly collided it with Thomas’ face, him immediately falling to the ground.

A few Gladers quickly started to hold Gally back. “This is all you, Thomas!” He fought. “Look around!”

“Hey, back up, Gally. It’s not Thomas’ fault!” Minho quickly defended.

You felt helpless as you watch the chaos ensure, you didn’t know what to do.

“You heard what Alby said! He’s one of them!”

“One of who?!”

“He’s one of them and they sent him here to destroy everything, and now he has! Look around, Thomas! Look around! This is your fault! Everything has been your fault! You’ve gotten us killed! Y/N almost died because of you!” He ranted.

Thomas quickly looked to you, soon noticing your leg, how your blood was bleeding through your pant leg. Jeff quickly went to you with bandages already out, gently sitting you down on the grass as he tried to help you.

“Maybe he’s right...” You faintly heard Thomas say.

You looked to him in confusion, your eyes widening in panic as he was holding a Griever stringer. “Thomas?”

“Thomas, no!” You screamed as Thomas strung himself. Even if you were injured, you crawled your way to the now convulsing boy, along with everyone else. “Chuck, get the other syringe!” Teresa ordered.

“Thomas, you stupid shank.” You cried.

~~~~~~~~~~

Oof

#the maze runner #tmr gally #gally x reader #gally #sweet pandemonium series

108 notes · View notes

yelenasdog · 4 years

Text

romance and espionage (eggsy unwin x fem reader)

genre: fluff w/ whole lotta angst

summary: who knew names could be such a touchy subject?

words: 2.4k

warnings: literally saying fuck everyother sentence, kissing, golden circle spoilers (is that a thing? idk), mentions of harry’s supposed death, mentions of roxy’s death, guns, and i think thats it.

ok, all my cm moots don’t judge me.

a/n: ight so uhh as i’m posting this i’m finding out taron is an incel so that’s kinda oW but uhh i haven’t seen the secret service, i just rewatched the golden circle the other night and hyperfixated on taron so... uh here’s this LMAO. also! this takes place after the golden circle, and reader took roxy’s spot as lancelot. ok enjoy!!

♔♂♔

“God, Eggsy, would you quiet down?!”

He snarled meanly in a way that could make Bennie and Jet’s metallic forms cower in fear, his thin lips turning into a grimace.

“Don't call me that here. It’s Galahad, and Galahad only.”

The other agent only scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Lancelot’s surroundings were dark, although quite stunning nonetheless. It was clear and starry night sky, perfect for romance, the worst for espionage. The air felt so refreshing on her skin, allowing her to feel free in some way, even just for a moment, which she savoured, as a feeling such as that was rare in her line of work.

Now, if the girl had been with someone other than the annoying, prickish, and (even though it pained her to the highest degree to say it) handsome fellow, she maybe would have tried to have a little fun to pass the time. Maybe fool around a bit, fraternize with a coworker, eh?

But alas, ever the one with amazing luck, she was stuck with him.

Which meant rather than perhaps getting crescent shaped markings on her hips from a quick rondevu under the indigo sky and sparkling stars, so roughly placed to match the moon that hung in it, she was crouching uncomfortably, only wishing that the former scenario was taking place.

Not that she meant with fucking Eggsy, of course.

Well ok, maybe, just a tad.

“Fine, have it your way, Galahad.” She flailed her arms about in a jazz hand motion, making the blondy roll his twinkly eyes in a boyish manner. She fought the urge to grin widely, a warm feeling blooming in her chest, even at his obvious arrogance and upset towards her.

She wanted to blame his feelings towards her on her being a freshmen agent, recruited right after the convergence of Kingsman and Statesman in an effort to rebuild the organization. She had been childhood friends with Roxy, who had long ago tried to get Y/n to join the agency. When faced with her friend’s death, she wanted to honor her wishes, even if this wish was a little, well, extreme.

He only sighed in response to Y/n, tapping the side of his thick rimmed glasses twice.

Y/n’s eyes followed his hands as he did so, enjoying what she was seeing a great amount. She bit her bottom lip subconsciously, losing all focus that was there to begin with.

“Lancelot? Lancelot? For fucks sake, Y/n!”

She snapped her head up, her eyes becoming magnified even further through the faux tortoise shell glasses that Unwin would never admit framed her face wonderfully.

No, not a chance.

He wouldn’t dare even let the thought about how the soft skin of her freckled nose looked even more kissable, her eyes even more full of depth and wonder, or how kind and sweet she looked when she tucked a stray strand of hair away from her face. All because of the damned glasses. Never.

So rather, he settled for pointing over to where the subject of their stakeout was now standing, gun in hand as he conversed with one of his comrades.

But although her body followed his, listening to his directions, most of the information was going in one ear out the other, her brilliant mind occupied by a certain agent and his endeavors.

She was hard in thought, wondering about names of all things. A simple subject, easy to address, you would think. But apparently it was not so, not at all.

You see, Eggsy never had called Y/n by her name. It was always either “Lancelot”, or “Agent”, Y/n only being used for the exception of if he needed to quickly grab her attention.

And on the flip side, she was never allowed to call him anything other than Galahad. Agent was sparse, it put her on very thin ice, close to splitting at any second with no prior notice.

Now obviously, with Y/n being Y/n, she was determined to crack his rough exterior, despite however much he presented himself as “unbreakable”. (His words, not hers.) So, much to his displeasure, she often called out a quick “Oi, Unwin!”, or a “Jesus, Eggsy!” whenever he got in her way, which usually resulted in a similar distasteful glance to what she was recieving now being shot in her direction.

“Alright, Eggsy, I’m thinking that his partner is-“ She used her glasses X-Ray feature, confirming her suspicions. “The partner is in the abandoned pharmacy across the street, should we wait or go now?” He was silent, staring straight ahead, scrutinizing nothing in particular with a stare that was set in stone.

She whistled lowly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Eggsyyy-“

“Lancelot, would you shut the hell up! Don’t fucking call me that!” He stood up, leaving a vulnerable feeling Y/n in his wake.

Y/n’s jaw was suddenly like it was wired shut. She was paralyzed, unable to speak, only keeping her gaze fixated on Galahad.

“Look, I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, well good, then! When will you ever learn, we’re not friends, nor will we ever be. Get it through you’re fuckin’ head. It’s like you think you’re Roxy or some shit-“

Sadness and guilt turned to anger rather quickly for Y/n at his unfortunate choice of words.

“Stop it! Would you please, just stop it! For fucks sake!” Her voice was harsh, something he never would had never expected out of Y/n. Tears sprung into her eyes, and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, no doubt drawing crimson liquid in the process. She tasted iron on her tongue, feeling it seep into her taste buds.

“Lancelo-“

“Fucking hell, shut the fuck up! Really, please, Galahad, listen to me, for once in your life.” She was the one who shot up, inching closer to him with every word. The sticks and leaves crunched under her feet, causing her to cringe at the sound, hoping it didn’t alert the targets.

He nodded solemnly, his jaw locking up, and his hands she had been admiring only seconds before clamped into fists at his sides.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, Harry’s words of “remember your training” ringing through her head. She internally began chanting it like a mantra of sorts.

But if she was being honest, she couldn't quite remember a chapter in the Kingsman handbook (that she most definitely did read during training) that talked about emotional distress due to your coworker who you’re extremely attracted to calling you only by your dead best friend's name, but hey, who knows.

“I know I'm not Roxy. Nobody else could ever be Roxy. I know that, you know that, hell, she knew that. And I would say that you have no idea how it feels to be reminded of one of your closest friends who is dead every time someone calls you by a name that feels as if it isn’t your own, but you do, Galahad. Or you did. But now Harry is back and- and Roxy, well Roxy is gone!”

A single tear slipped out of her left eye. The agent in front of her felt a strong urge wipe away the tears he now felt guilty for playing a large part in. But he resisted, his hands remaining stuck to his side.

“So why would you do this? Say these things, act this way, when you know I have to live every day with you for some reason calling me Lancelot in every situation and me having to call you Galahad all the same! Maybe I shouldn’t have stepped up to be Lancelot when Roxy was killed, if I can’t handle it, can’t handle the dehumanization that comes with only being known as an emotionless fuckin’ agent to you.”

She stopped, hanging her head. She looked over to the flickering neon lights of the pharmacy, watching the outlines of the targets move around.

“I honestly have no idea if any of that made sense, or if I’m just rambling, I don’t fucking have the slightest idea what the fuck I’m even doing anymore.” Her voice got significantly more quiet, her sentences reduced to mumbles.

Aside from the target and his partners yelling at each other, it was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

His usually stern tone he took with the girl was softer now as he spoke, “You made perfect sense.”

She gave him a half smile before continuing, feeling oddly validated by his words.

“But what I’m trying to say, Galahad, is that I’m a fucking human being. I have a life outside of this Godforsaken job, and-and emotions, too! I mean, I might even have kids that you don’t know about!”

He internally rolled his eyes, yet again fighting another urge, this time to smile widely at Y/n. Weird.

“Do you have kids I don’t know about-“

“Of course I don’t!”

They shared a short laugh as their words overlapped, harmonizing in a sweet way, their voices like thick and golden honey. Weird.

The two were then succumbed to a blanket of comfortable silence, but only for a short moment before the hushed whispers of Unwin’s voice were heard.

“D’you wanna know why?”

Y/n cocked her head, beckoning him to go on with whatever it was he was going to say. “Why what?”

“Why I only call you Lancelot, why I don’t let you call me Eggsy.”

She nodded, sitting down once more and tucking her leg under her chin in a manner that Eggsy found endearing and adorable. It distracted him slightly, but not long enough for his starry eyed staring to become creepy. Not that Y/n would have it in her capacity to ever think that of him, if she was being honest.

“If I start to think of you as ‘Y/n’, rather than Lancelot things get too real. If you hurt, o-or if you get kidnapped, or God forbid- die.” He momentarily paused, looking up to meet Y/n’s eyes.

“It would make it all too real. I can’t do that, Y/n. After what happened to Harry and then Roxy, and everyone else,” he shook his head, his expression showing him close to crying at the thought of what he was speaking of.

“I can’t lose you too.”

It was like her soul had become visibly lighter, feeling an unimaginable relief flood throughout her system at his proclamation. She was able to come down from her, so to say, “high” almost as soon as she had started it, placing her hands on his, using them as leverage to pull herself up.

“You can’t be so afraid, Galahad. You gotta, you know,” she shrugged, offering him a small smile.

“Live a little.” She moved to look down to meet his eyes where his head was suspended in shame, forcing him to look back up.

“And also, try not to let your fear turn you into a dick, which is by all means just a suggestion.” Y/n laughed at the last bit, smiling and glancing to the side slightly.

They both shared a second laugh together, and it seemed as if for a short while, time stopped. It was just the two of them, features illuminated by the pale moonlight. No target, no saving the world, nothing. Just them.

So he reached forward, unsure if what he was doing was the right thing, just like always. The damn question of righteousness was engrained in his brain, restricting him like it did majority of the time. But for once, he decided to disregard it in it’s entirety.

So throwing all caution to the wind, unable to contain himself any longer, he closed the small gap left between the two, connecting their lips in a long awaited kiss.

One of his hands flew to the side of her face, the other wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer with a squeal. He laughed into the union, and she only smiled. One of her hands went to entangle itself with his on her waist, the other resting on his shoulder.

She could smell his cologne that he most definitely should not have been wearing per Kingsman on the job regulations, and welcomed the scent, doing her best to commit it to memory, a permanent reminder of what it felt like to be so close to the man.

After what seemed like a long time (but never long enough, honestly) they pulled away, panting for breath. Their foreheads rested on each other’s, the cool night air flowing around them, calming the pair completely.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Eggsy reached forward, taking both of her hands. He ran small circles over her knuckles in a way that made her heart flutter, before dropping them gently, reaching a hand out.

“Let's start over.”

She giggled and widely grinned, and he swore it was becoming his favorite thing in existence when she would do either of those wondrous things.

“Come on, put her there.” He shook his hand slightly making a silly face as well, widening his eyes and looking back and forth from his hand and her face. She placed it in his, proudly smirking as she did so. Their shiny rings clanged, which resulted in another small giggle errupting from her throat.

He shook it back and forth, a sly smile painting itself on his lips.

“Pleasure to meet you, Eggsy Unwin.”

She quirked an eyebrow, retracting her hand momentarily, letting it linger in the air.

“Eggsy, hmm? Bit of an odd name, don’t you think?”

He scoffed, placing his hand over his heart in false offense.

“Well if it’s so bad, what’s yours then?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

He looked to his feet momentarily, lifting his hands on either side of his head. “I digress, you win.”

She bit her bottom lip again, wincing as she hit the same spot from before. She ran her tongue over it, breathing out quickly.

“I’m not so sure. I think Eggsy is growing on me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

They smiled at each other like lovesick teenagers, still lost within the moment.

And although the bubble of ignorant bliss they were in was something the two of them never wanted to leave, it was sadly inevitable that it would be popped at some point in time.

And almost like an alarm to wake them up from a beautiful dream, gunfire was able to be heard ringing throughout the building across the way.

They pulled apart with a groan coming from Y/n, and a “For fucks sake” from Eggsy. With displeasure lacing their expressions, they began to run towards the pharmacy when Y/n felt a hand tug at her wrist.

“Y/n wait!”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him as if he was a mad man, only slowing to a backwards jog. She gestured around her to the burst of red and orange explosions that were now going off around her, screaming “What?!”

He sprinted to catch up with her forcing her to come to a complete stop with a firm hold on her shoulders.

“Eggsy, come on! Lets go- Ah!”

He cut her off with a firm kiss, gripping the sides of her head, scrunching his fingers in her hair. She let a small moan slip out at the feeling, which he responded to by chuckling. He then pulled away, a shit eating grin written on his face.

She stood in shock, unable to move from her place. He started running, turning over his shoulder.

“Come on, Y/n, keep up!”

Not focusing on where he was going, he tripped over himself, letting out a small yell of surprise. Y/n laughed loudly, going to chase after him with a miniscule shake of her head at his antics.

But nonetheless, the only thing going through Y/n’s mind during that situation that should have been horrifying, was that maybe she was wrong all this time.

Romance and espionage did go well together, especially when it was with Y/n and Eggsy.

♔♂♔

hello!!! so this was a multi-fandom account to begin with anyways so honestly i feel like i should start a seperate masterlist for “hj’s hyperfixations”. but yah this was my first fic for him and idk if i’ll do another but i hope u enjoyed this! also it’s my bday tomorrow (sept 7th) so this is a self indulgent fic. as a treat. ok love u bye!

xx hj

also avery asked me to tag her so @spideyspencer LMAO i’m so sorry for this mess.

331 notes · View notes

erekiosuncreativeideas · 3 years

Text

Being Human - Chapter 23

<= Chapter 22

Summary : Snatcher is taken to a familiar room of the manor. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/74145501

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(Trigger warning for this chapter : emotional abuse and creepy situation)

HEEEEEEY NEW CHAPTER

SO. Let me put some dates here.

Sunday 4th of April 2021 : chapter 24 will be posted. Thursday 8th of April 2021 : chapter 25 (last chapter) will be posted.

Why do I wait a few days to post the last chapters ? Because I want to draw for them, and, if possible, make as many drawings I can. Hopefully, you'll like this chapter and the last two as well ! Thank you for remaining so passionate about this story since its beginning, it means a lot to me !

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !

Uh if you’re interested, I post my progress on my chapters on Hatty Fan Time (the AHIT Discord server I’m moderating with two friends), so if you wanna join, go ahead !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 23 : “I can do this, I can… I will do this.”

-“There we are,” sing-sang the Queen, opening the door leading to the nursery. To Snatcher’s horror, while the room was still relatively damaged, mostly with claw marks on the walls, it remained recognizable. The sight was enough to give him flashbacks of the time they had commissioned this room, of the time they had entered it the first time after it was completed- The former ghost could remember it like it was yesterday: the couple had been so happy, staying in the room for a good hour, imagining how their child would be like, how they wanted to give them as much love as possible… But none of that ever happened.

Instead, the Subcon Freezing had happened, ruining all hope for Snatcher to ever have kids, ruining his dreams of having a family with the woman he loved so, so much.

And now, he was back in that cursed room, a room that was reminding him of what could have been, had things been different.

Snatcher had no choice but to rely on Vanessa so he wouldn’t put any weight on his broken ankle. No need to say this was frustrating… And extremely frightening, having to depend on the one who had mercilessly killed you. The former ghost knew he had no choice anyway and he could do nothing but clench his teeth, hoping nothing would happen. With a swift gesture, the Queen grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him inside, soon closing the door behind them. The sudden movement made him cry out in pain as it forced his body to put weight on his injured ankle. It didn’t take long for Vanessa to notice what had happened and she quickly helped him to straighten, a sickening smile painted on her face.

-“There, there,” she cooed: “It’s okay. You know what you need ?” she then asked, completely out of the blue. A look of fear crossed his features as he heard her words. Oh, this couldn’t be good, now, could it…? The Queen remained silent after her own question and her face grew irritated, which were pretty good indicators that she was waiting for an answer from him. With this realization, the child quickly realized he had to give her a sign, anything- and so, unable to speak, he just shook his head, his whole body trembling from the pain, the fear and the cold.

Seeming satisfied with Snatcher’s reply, even if non-vocal, she smiled again and quickly picked him up without any warning. Naturally, out of surprise, the former ghost gasped and started to struggle. How could he not, when his own murderer was holding him in her arms, without any difficulty? However, it didn’t take much to convince him otherwise: Vanessa’s warning glare and the pain in his ankle from the movements were more than enough.

-“Now, now,” she sermonized him, all while carrying him to the crib. As soon as she got them both closer, he guessed her intents, and his face paled up. God, this nightmare was just becoming even worse- she was going to put him into the crib where their child should have been hundreds of years ago, should they have been born.

This was so disturbing, so creepy-…! But, apparently, Vanessa wasn’t seeing anything wrong with this. She really was taking him for a child, a child she had to care for.

This was sickening.

-“W-wait!” he interrupted her just as she was about to lower him into the pink crib, and she gave him both a confused and annoyed look.

-“What’s the matter?” she asked back, narrowing her eyes and furrowing her brow. Oh, this wasn’t good.

-“I’m… I’m too old to be in a cradle,” he tried, hoping this would be enough, though he couldn’t help but giggle nervously, his eyes looking away in fear they’d see anger on the Queen’s face, maybe worse. She stared at him for a moment… And soon enough, a light laughter left her lips, all trace of annoyance gone from her face, as if those had never been there in the first place.

-“Oh ho ho,” she took a deep breath as she finished laughing, sighing. Snatcher… Didn’t like that.

-“W-what…?” he wondered, his voice trembling from uncertainty and dread. Why would she laugh at something like this?

-“Oh, silly one,” she replied, an even more sickening smile painted on her ghostly lips, one that was letting him see her sharp fangs: “You need to rest, and I have the perfect bed for that. Your age doesn’t matter, does it? Cribs are for children, and you are one, don’t you?” she retorted, as if this was oh so very obvious.

Perhaps she had remained too unstable for years to remember cradles were for young infants, or toddlers. Her madness had affected her perception of reality, so much that she couldn’t see the problem here- or maybe she did, though in that case, why would she care? She had murdered him centuries ago, she wouldn’t feel guilty about forcing a kid into a crib!

And, well, it wasn’t like he could struggle more, seeing his injured ankle. After all, not only did this hurt, but this was also a very good warning of what could happen to him should he resist more. All of his instincts were crystal clear: “wait for the right opportunity”, they instructed him. And so, as the Queen lowered him into the cradle, Snatcher did his best not to cringe at the thought and didn’t resist. Once done, Vanessa stepped back and looked at him with a twisted fondness, one that made Snatcher want to throw up. Though he knew better and stayed still and silent.

-“Aaaw, look at you!” the Queen cooed, as if this was the cutest thing she had even seen in years- which was probably the case, in hindsight: “See, you fit just right!” At this remark, the young Prince examined the crib. Yeah, sure, he could fit while sitting- but lying down? This was another story. With the body of a twelve years old kid, or around that age, it was obvious this was the worst choice ever for a bed.

Although… Although this was much, much better than being put in Vanessa’s, he just realized. A chill ran down his spine at the thought. Yeah… Yeah, the cradle wasn’t so bad in comparison.

Snatcher’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard a clap of hands next to him- and unsurprisingly, it was her.

-“Good!” she spoke again: “Now that you’re ready to rest, I’ll bake some cookies!” She started to walk to the door and the former shade felt relieved at the idea of her leaving him alone- but just before exiting the room, she stopped and turned to him, a knowing smile on her lips:

-“Stay in the bed and sleep, alright?” she told him, and Snatcher had no trouble to detect that this was not a suggestion: “I don’t want anyone running around here. Otherwise, there will be consequence. Have I made myself clear… Uh…” she stopped for a moment, thinking, before tilting her head to the side: “Wait, what is your name? I don’t think I asked you before, did I?”

Oh. Oh crap. He obviously couldn’t give her his old name, this was the worst possible thing to do- but what other name could he use? Obviously, if he took too much time to decide, she would know… And yet, no words could leave his mouth.

Snatcher was simply paralyzed. At no time he had expected her to ask about his name- but how could he not think of anything like this?

-“Well?” she urged him, getting suspicious. Oh no, oh no, he had to find something, quick…!

-“Lu...” he tried, hoping he’d find a name close to his old one, something that would easily evoke close forms of the name “Lukas”, he lacked too much time to think more. But nothing was coming in his mind: “Lu…!”

The Queen frowned, confused.

-“Lulu?” she repeated, as a confirmation she had understood. Instantly, a wave of relief washed over him, though he did his best to hide it as much as he could.

-“Y-yes,” he nodded weakly, with a trembling smile: “That’s… That’s my name, yes,” he lied, trying so hard to keep his “happy mask” on. As a response, Vanessa stared at him, as if she were watching for any sign of lie in his words, in his expression. Snatcher hands were becoming clammy from how dreadful this whole situation was, his heart was beating loud and fast in his chest, he was doing his best to keep his breathing under control, no matter how difficult this was… And, finally…!

-“This is such a cute name!” exclaimed Vanessa with glee, clasping her hands once more: “Well, Lulu. I hope I can trust you, right?” Another warning, one that was even more obvious than the last one. The former ghost forced himself to smile again, despite how insincere it must have looked- but perhaps Vanessa was too unstable to see it, or so he hoped.

-“Of… Of course!” he lied again, with a nod: “I’ll just… Sleep and wait for you to come back,” he assured, hoping this would suffice. And fortunately…

-“Perfect!” her face lightened up, yet Snatcher couldn’t tell if she was fully convinced. In any case, she grabbed the door handle and waved at him affectionately, like a mother would do to her child. This was… Extremely upsetting, given the circumstances. Still, the child merely forced another smile… And let out a huge sigh of relief as the Queen finally left the room.

Gods, this had been much, much more terrorizing than anything he could have potentially imagined.

Doing everything he could to remain silent, the young Prince listened closely to her steps slowly getting away, and waited a few more minutes, just to be sure. When he was sure she was definitely far away from this room, Snatcher tried to straighten up, only to be cut short by the acute pain on his ankle. Oh yeah.

There was this problem too.

The former ghost winced and frowned. What could he do for that? He couldn’t possibly escape with such an injury… Not only would it hurt, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to move discreetly. With Vanessa being in the room under this one… Oh, yes, she would definitely hear him. Then what? It wasn’t like he could miraculously heal that ankle-

However, his body froze as a stroke of genius burst in his mind. Maybe, just, maybe this could work… Frowning and wincing in advance, not really sure if this would succeed… Snatcher moved his hands to his broken ankle and closed his eyes, focusing.

He had learnt healing magic in his past life… Now, it was just a matter of hoping this small and frail body would allow him to use it. And so, the former ghost tried to find the small spark of magic he still had under this form. Breathing in and out, it was like trying to find something that was now hidden in the depth of his mind, something that felt so familiar and yet so foreign.

“Come on…” he urged himself, feeling himself getting closer and closer to that feeling he was trying so hard to find. Healing magic wasn’t as easy as fire one for him, one of the main reasons being that his mother’s family had been gifted with the power of fire. Summoning flames was thus easier for him- healing magic, though? This was a complete new story. While fire had been easy to learn at the time, him being a natural at it, the other types of magic had to be learnt the traditional way, with teachers, a lot of reading and study times, and getting familiarized with the elements you were learning.

Of course, in his situation, Snatcher couldn’t really use any of those things. All he could do was trying to focus… And soon enough, he began to feel tingles at the tips of his fingers. Yes, this is what he had been looking for! A small smile of victory spread on his lips, but he did his best to remain focused. In the meantime, the child could feel his injured ankle becoming number and number to the pain, and maybe… Bones shifting around a bit, though it was more uncomfortable than actually painful. This was working, this was working, he knew it, he knew he could-!

And suddenly, Snatcher felt like he lost all grasp on his magic. Shocked, the former shade opened his eyes, the tingling sensation in his fingertips quickly disappearing as if it had never been there at all. Why? Confusion spread onto his features and he looked at his hands, almost hoping he’d see what went wrong. But everything seemed normal.

And in fact, it was, thinking about it. The fact that he had been able to summon healing magic when he was in a body inexperienced with it… Was already quite an achievement, and it made sense it wouldn’t last, that this would be too unstable for that.

The former ghost tentatively moved his ankle, already wincing in advance in fear of how much it would hurt- but it wasn’t as painful as he had first thought. He slowly and carefully palpated his skin, trying to feel what had changed. Sure, touching it hurt, however… However, he was almost sure that his bones weren’t broken anymore.

He had managed to heal the biggest part of his injury. A long sigh of relief left his lips: things were… Going really well. But Snatcher was far from being over with this, oh, very, very far. He still had to escape this cursed place.

As silently as he could, Snatcher straightened up and hopped over the guardrail of the crib. His feet met the floor with a muffled sound, which was enough to scare him: had Vanessa heard anything? The sudden pressure on his ankle made his face tensed greatly though he managed to contain the urge to whine in pain.

This body was definitely one of a child… But to the former shade, he was sure that his mind had been altered to a degree, and this was not something he liked. He had to find the kids and Moonjumper, making sure they were alive, that he had managed to save them… And have the brats returning him to his adult for- no, his spirit form. Yes, that was what he wanted, and for a moment, he felt confused as to why this hadn’t been the first thing popping in his mind.

What was happening to him…?

The child forced his mind to focus back on reality: this wasn’t the time for questions. Who knew how much time he had before Vanessa decided to check up on him? If he had to try something, without getting caught, this was literally now or never. Waiting was dangerous, especially if his friends needed him- it was really cold outside, freezing even… Would he even get there on time? He was pretty far away, especially on foot…

“No,” he tried to reassure himself: “I can do this, I can… I will do this.”

Determination was now fueling inside of him, almost making him forget the pain in his ankle and how low the temperatures were in the manor. He himself was also on a time limit: his fragile body would become less efficient the colder it would get- Snatcher couldn’t lose any more time.

Slowly, silently, the child moved to the door and slightly opened it. Good, it hadn’t been locked, and he couldn’t hear anything coming closer, whether it was a voice or steps. Another sigh of relief left his lips, and after hesitating a bit… The young Prince took a deep breath and moved forward, entering the hallway with a mix of apprehension, fear, and resolve.

He was going to leave this manor and find his friends again.

This was a promise.

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ONLY TWO CHAPTERS LEFT

I hope you liked this chapter, I can't wait to show you the ending of this fanfiction ! Thank you so much for following me this far, and I hope you'll be there for my next fanfic too ! (I already have an idea of the story, so now it's a matter of making it better and actually writing it).

See you next Sunday !

=> Chapter 24

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Deathworlder Down

AO3

based on @delimeful wibar

Warning for some disturbing imagery/body horror this chapter. Virgil’s having nightmares.

...

Fear.

Pounding, aching fear.

Shadowy figures surrounded him, discussing him in words he could almost hear, hushed voices he could almost understand, and it grated at him, it hurt his ears. He tried to cover them, but found he couldn’t move, not a muscle, his eyes were open but he couldn’t even blink, his fingers wouldn’t even twitch, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest, but despite his panic his breathing remained steady and even. The shadows moved closer, their whispers growing louder, echoing in his head, screaming tempests against his ear drums, and he wanted it to stop, he needed it to stop, but it just grew louder, and louder, and then it was the suited beings again, holding a scalpel, and he screamed, as his chest was sliced open, the flesh peeled away to reveal the organs beneath, his heart visible through the blood leaking from him, and he realized though he was screaming in his mind, he wasn’t making any sound, his vocal chords as paralyzed as the rest of him, and he couldn’t look away, as they started ripping out his insides, tearing him apart, the pain splintering through his being, blacking out his vision, and he tried, he tried desperately to writhe and claw and fight his way free, but couldn’t even lift his head, and he was aware of them adding new parts, shoving metal and wires and circuit boards into him, the pop and crackle of electricity against his skin shocking him, sending him into spasms that somehow defied whatever drug they’d given him, back arching at the intense, radiating heat flowing up his spine, and he finally did break free, break out of whatever drug they’d used, a keening, desperate wail shoving past his lips as he shoved himself off the table, as he snarled and clawed and bit and slashed, anything, everything, to get free, until he’d fought off the beings, his breathing ragged and uneven as he looked at the monster they’d made him, all mechanical parts and twisted limbs, broken bones and spasming muscle.

“Virgil?” Suddenly a shadow Logan was there, looking down at him, head tilted and eyes empty, hands strangely still, assessing him like the specimen he was and he shuddered, twitching uncontrollably.

“No. That isn’t Virgil.” Patton, voice hollow, and he screamed again, because his feathers were torn from his body, bent and broken nibs trickling blood down his wings, though he didn’t seem to care. “Virgil wouldn’t do this to me. And he did.” He shook his head, trying to deny it, but memories rushed back, his hands, moving against his will, the metal twisting around his bones, jerking him around like a marionette, Patton, begging, pleading, but he couldn’t stop, the single thought in his mind echoing destroy, destroy, destroy. His hands, ripping handfuls of feathers, feathers flying around the room, getting stuck in his grinning teeth, his manic laugh, his twisted soul.

“No… nonononono…” He curled tight on the ground, ignoring the fire racing through him, the intense, burning, heat, trying to make sense of this, of anything, noticing for the first time his hands were stained red, seeing Patton’s agonized face in his head, his hands on his throat, pressing down, down down-

“Virgil!” Roman’s voice rocked his world, and suddenly his eyes snapped open, hissing at the sudden brightness, too confused to understand anything, vision blurry, from tears, he realized, his breathing stuttering in and out, barely enough to keep from passing out, his throat tight, barely a pinhole of space for air to wheeze in and out of, his chest felt so tight, so constricted, and there wasn’t enough air, and he was hot, why was he so hot, the wires, the wires twisting through his veins, no, he had to get them out, they would make him hurt them, hurt Patton, he couldn’t hurt Patton!

He started scratching at himself, clawing at himself frantically, uncaring of the wetness slipping down his face, he had to stop it, he couldn’t-

Bloody feathers, crushed neck, broken wings, shattered body, he couldn’t-

Hands. Hands on him. He hissed, growled, tried to shove them away, but he was weak, so weak, he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t get away, and they were stopping him, and he was going to hurt everyone, he had to let go, he had to stop himself, he was just a monster, just a toy, just a broken sack of bits and pieces that didn’t even fit together right anymore, why couldn’t they just let him stop?

“please. Please, I can’t, I can’t, I won’t, i… i…” He doubled over, curled into a ball, shaking so hard his teeth were chattering, feeling as if he was shattering into a thousand pieces, broken and stomped on and wrecked.

“kiddo. I need you to breath.” He flinched back, away from Patton, eyes wide with fear, shaking his head frantically, as he scooted away, the grip on his hands letting him go.

“n-no… no! I’ll h-hurt y-y-you they’ll m-make me h-h-hurt-“ he broke off, running out of air, all of it dedicated to keeping the spots in his vision from growing larger, from taking over and plunging him into black.

“virgil. You have never, never ever, hurt me. And they can’t hurt us, anymore. Do you remember that? We’re safe now, remember? You broke us out of there, and kept us safe. You’re safe, Virgil. We’re safe. We’re ok. We’re ok.” Patton repeated softly, using the gentle chirp of his native tongue, ruffling encouragingly when Virgil finally looked up at him, struggling for a few moments, before tentatively chirping it back.

“We’re… we’re… ok.” He echoed slowly, tongue thick in his mouth, head pounding, it hurt to think, it hurt to do anything, but he forced his mind to remember, to remember what he was missing, flashes of a slim, multi armed figure, of a bulky, scaled one, of a… a ship, and he managed a slightly larger, shaky breath.

“M-Mindscape?” He managed, and Patton nodded, eyes soft with worry.

“That’s right, kiddo. You got sick, do you remember that?” He remembered feeling not great, but that was normal. He remembered being dizzy, but that was all. He shook his head, feeling confused again, feeling slow and tired and hazy.

“That’s ok, Virgil. I just wanna help, ok? Will you let me do that?” Patton asked, taking a small step closer. “Will you let me help?” His gaze flicked to the others in the room, pulling at a dull memory, at familiarity, he knew them, knew them and they didn’t spark… fear. Not quite. But the scaled one’s gaze was sharp and angry, and the crystal one’s gaze was sharp and piercing, and both sent unease tingling down his spine. But Patton was asking, and he trusted Patton, and if Patton trusted them, then they couldn’t be bad.

“O-o-Ok.” He managed, letting out a soft sigh when Patton closed the distance between them, resting a hand on his leg, and instantly, the fight and stress drained out of him, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re gonna be ok, kiddo. I promise.” Then nothing.

…

“He's hotter, Lo.” Patton said, voice shaking, as he felt Virgil's forehead. Sweat coated his skin, and he was panting for breath, shaking, obviously in pain, not just from the lines of red up and down his arms, where he'd started clawing at himself, before Roman stopped him. “he’s getting worse."

“We need to get him to drink. He’s severely dehydrated. I… hate to suggest this, but IVs may be the best option here. I know, it will cause added emotional strain, but his body does not have the strength or resources right now to fight off this illness. And I’d rather have him be upset or afraid than… than dead.” His words caused Patton to draw in his feathers, shrinking to nearly half his normal size, and he buried his face against Virgil’s side. Roman’s scales shifted, scraping against each other as they flattened, conflicting emotions racing through him.

He didn’t like Virgil. Didn’t trust him, wouldn’t have him here, if it had been up to him, but the thought of him… dying, still sent a spike of unease through him, one he could pretend was just for Patton, who was so attached to Virgil.

“ok. If it’s the only way, ok.”

He disinfected and bandaged Virgil’s arms first, before letting Roman shift him back onto the couch, fetching the medical supplies and hooking up the bags. Finally, he was standing over Virgil with the IV line in hand. All he had to do was insert it. He found himself incredibly resistant, now, to the idea, now that he actually was doing this, mind flashing to the moments he’d seen in the vidi, the pain and agony that had accompanied nearly every experience with a needle, but this was different. This was to help.

So he swiftly located the vein on the human’s wrist, slipping the needle in and securing it with gauze and tape, relieved when Virgil did no more than moan slightly, rolling onto his side and curling into a ball. He doubted the reaction would be so placid when he actually woke up to find a needle in his arm, but that was a future worry.

“Alright. That should help hydrate him, as well as give him some of the basic nutrients he is sorely lacking in, as well as some very moderate medicines. I doubt anything we have would do him any harm, but I don’t want to take chances and accidentally make things worse. Patton… you need to sleep.” He added, looking at the disheveled ampen, who shook his head.

“No, no, no! I have to stay! What if he wakes up?”

“He won’t for a few hours, at the very least, which is long enough for you to get some sleep. You haven’t slept since we found him.”

“Well neither have you! You’ve been pacing yourself silly!” He sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Alright. You’re right. If Roman stays on watch and promises to get us if anything changes, will you come rest with me?” he asked, knowing Patton wouldn’t turn down that offer, not with how rarely he was willing to offer tactile comfort, but they could both use some, right now.

“Ro? I know you don’t like him, but-"

“I’ll take care of him. I promise, Patton.” Roman swore, kneeling down so Patton could hug him, smiling as he butted against the underside of his chin, before stepping back, chirping an ampen thanks, hesitantly following Logan down the hall and into his room, Roman hearing the door slide shut.

He let out a low breath, scales flattening as he tried to calm himself, staring down at Virgil’s unconscious form.

“I don’t know what to make of you. I will never say this out loud again, but you terrify me. And I will not lose another family, to humans. But… every time you panic or lose control or lash out, it’s always at yourself. It’s always to protect Patton. You always choose to harm yourself over any of us, but you’re still a human, a death worlder, a dangerous, violent, creature.” He said, though it sounded much less convincing now, that it usually did in his arguments with Logan or his silent fuming.

Virgil moved slightly, his breath hitching, and his face creased, as if sensing Roman’s displeasure.

“no… please… m-mom…” Virgil mumbled, trying to reach out to something that wasn’t there, something only in his mind, and after a moment, Roman realized Virgil was crying, curling tighter.

He’d known Virgil had been stolen off his planet, but he’d never thought about the implications of it. He hadn’t considered that Virgil had clan, would have a mother or a father, that he’d lost everything, to aliens, without even having a chance to fight to keep it.

Roman knew how it felt, to lose everything, in the blink of an eye.

“and then you go and say something like that.” He sighed, shifting into the chair left beside the couch, hesitantly reaching out to brush back the human’s hair, mimicking the motion he’d seen Patton do countless times, to soothe or relax the human, surprised as Virgil instantly settled, a shaky breath escaping him before his body seemed to go lax once more, leaning into his touch.

“this doesn’t mean I like you. It’s only because I promised Patton.” He grumbled, not moving away, despite himself.

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toloveawarlord · 4 years

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The Little Vampire (Ch. 2)

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Characters: Nell, Levi, & Satan

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @starry-starry-night24 @gay-noodle-clan

A/N: Day 3 of the 12 Days of OCmas! He is already so attached to his little vampire. Who should she meet next?

Being summoned had turned into a complicated, scheduled event. Levi began to enjoy his trips to visit the girl, bringing her snacks and playing board games. She intently listened to his ramblings about Ruri-chan without judgement or teasing. He honestly had more fun with her than anyone else.

He looked forward to visiting, despite being confined to an empty bedroom.

Except today was different.

It was late, but he was up watching a new anime that was finally available in the Devildom when he was tugged through the void and into the human world. They weren’t scheduled to meet again until the end of the week. “Nell? What’s this abo-” His words trailing off.

The room was empty, and the circle at his feet poorly drawn as if done in a hurry. He’d never come without her being here, and never had the door been left open. The demon wasn’t sure that she left the room at all. Nell never told him about her life here, only asking that he keep her company and play games with her.

“L-Levi!” A shout from somewhere else in the house. Her voice shrill and desperate, hoarse like she’d been yelling for hours.

The layout of the house unknown to him, but the stench of humans drew him down the staircase. There were more than he’d expected, and all quite surprised at his sudden presence. As for Levi, his mouth gaped at the scene before him.

“Levi! Help me!” Nell cried out from where she was held down on the coffee table, a human on either side of her writhing body. A makeshift beheading block. She managed to get an arm out, helplessly reaching towards him.

The large human with the axe stuck his foot against her head, his boot cutting into her pale skin and drawing blood. “Stop squalling, you monster.” His hate-filled eyes turned to Levi. “This doesn’t concern demons so move along!”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Levi spat out, demonic power erupting from his body. His transformation enough to send fear rattling through the pathetic human’s fragile forms. Golden irises were overflowing with absolute rage. His voice inhumanly deep and commanding. “That little vampire belongs to me.”

Although the leader tried to be strong, his limbs betrayed him, trembling like leaves in the presence of someone so powerful. “What does a demon want with a-” No words could form with his back against the wall, gaze unable to look away from the demon towering above him. The man completely paralyzed.

Levi’s head tilted to the side, assessing his prey with muted interest. Humans were so weak, and yet they pretended to be at the top of the food chain. “It won’t matter to you. You hurt someone important to me.” His tail slithered up to the man’s throat, wrapping gingerly around it....

With one squeeze, his head popped off, splatting against the floor.

The others scattered but none were able to escape. Angering a demon, even one without his strength was a death sentence. No one did so and lived to talk about it.

“Nell?” Levi regained control of himself, scratching his bloodstained cheek awkwardly. He found the vampire quivering in the corner of the room, violet eyes sweeping over the mess. A wave of guilt flooded over him. He must have frightened her so much with his anger.

He glanced around, finding her stuffed dinosaur under the coffee table, likely from when she’d dropped when they were throwing her around. He knelt down in front of her, reaching out and offering the stuffed animal to her. “I’m sorry- oof-”

The girl threw herself into his arms, the force knocking him over. Her cheek rubbed against his chest as she sniffled but smiled. “I knew you’d save me!” A mixture of emotions bubbled over. Nell was crying out of happiness and relief. “If you hadn’t come... they’d of--they’d of- hic.” The fear of almost dying turned into a sobbing mess. She tried to wipe them away with the backs of her hands.

Levi patted his hand against the top of her head. “It’s alright. You don’t have to worry about them anymore.” Mostly because he’d killed them, but he had another reason. He produced a golden band from his pocket. “Check this out. I had my brother help me get it. It’ll let you come back to the Devildom with me. It’s like a super rare item!”

At first it was too big to fit around her dainty wrist, but it shrunk in size once it touched her skin. “Woah. You’re giving me a rare item? Like...” Her brows furrowed as she dug through her memory. “Like the Silver Lion sword in that dungeon game we played?”

“Yeah! Just like that! And it’s all yours! I mean... if you want to come with me.”

Her small arms locked around his neck. “Yes! I wanna go now. Can we go now? Before the others come and lock me up again.”

More humans? Levi cast a glance around at the carnage. He didn’t have the energy to face any more of them. Better to abandon this game than continue to fight. He’d gotten his prize anyways.

Nell nearly fell when they were transported back to his bedroom. She spun on the ball of her foot, throwing her hands up. “That was so cool! It was like poof and we were here!” Her spinning only stopped when she got dizzy, teetering around as she laughed.

Levi collapsed into his gaming chair, all his energy drained. Traveling between the two realms was a big enough strain, but also using so much demonic power only made the demon exhausted. With his elbow propped up on the arm, he rested his chin on his palm.

“Is this where you sleep?” Nell pushed her hands against the edge of the tub to see it better but slipped and fell headfirst into the pile of pillows. Her legs kicked in the air before she flipped upright.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Levi asked, nervously turning his gaze to find Henry in the large aquarium. Only normies slept in beds. His tub was the perfect size, and he could cuddle his Ruri-chan body pillow without any issues.

The girl hummed, brushed her white hair out of her face. “No, it makes sense.” She grinned at his surprised expression. “Besides, it’s comfy. Can I sleep here, too? I’m really tiny so we can both fit.”

“S-sure.” He hadn’t thought this far ahead. The situation had turned out to be more dire than he’d realized, but even without it, the demon didn’t have anything in place for her once they’d arrived here. Levi racked his brain for his next move while the girl continually dove into the pillows and then popped up on the other side of the tub and repeated.

The only thing he did know was that Lucifer couldn’t find out she was here.

“I see the item worked for you.”

Nell slipped back under the pillows, peeking out between them to spy on the new demon in the room. His green eyes flickered to where she hid but quickly moved to Levi. Which one was he? She’d heard about all of them.

“Although, I’m not sure that keeping a human as a pet is a good idea.”

“I’m not a human!” The girl sprung up, haphazardly knocking the pillows out of the tub and onto the floor. Her index fingers tapped against her two large canines. “I’m a vampire. See? Fangs!”

Levi rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do next, but think you can keep her a secret? If Lucifer finds out, he’ll punish me for sure.” His shoulders dropped in dejection. And who knows what he’d do to Nell. “Nell, this is my brother Satan.”

“Oh, the one that likes books and is a cat.”

“A cat?” Satan blinked at her in confusion. He wasn’t not like a cat, although he didn’t think that would be a bad thing. She certainly didn’t say it as a negative, so it was possible that it was meant as a compliment.

The vampire climbed out of the tub and approached the fourth born brother who was deep in serious thought. Her hand tugged on his sleeve, violet eyes that of puppy’s. “Please don’t tell the bossy one I’m here. I want to stay with Levi.” Her gaze fell away, distracted by the mountain of games and toys around her. “If I have to go back, the humans will kill me.”

Satan chuckled at her reference to the eldest as the bossy one. “Your secret is safe with me.” He ruffled her hair and smiled softly. She was quite cute, and it would be entertaining to see how long Levi could keep her hidden.

“Nell, no!” Levi chastised. His tail wrapped around her waist, hauling the girl away from his brother. Her fangs grazed against Satan’s wrist but didn’t actually sink in. He held her in the air, sighing. “You can’t bite him. Actually, you can’t bite anyone. No biting.”

Her index fingers poked together as she gave Satan a sheepish expression. “I’m sorry.”

“Levi, you do know you have to feed her, right? Vampires survive on blood, and if she’s willing to bite a demon, then she must be starving,” Satan said, observing the two with curiosity. He’d never seen Levi so invested in something 3-D.

“I know. I’ll figure something out.” He set her down but didn’t release his tail’s grip. Procuring human blood in the Devildom would be difficult. And if he bought it online in bulk, Lucifer was sure to notice. Levi gritted his teeth and rolled up his sleeve. “For now, you can drink from me. Just be quick.” His head turned away, not wanting to see his own blood.

Nell stared at his bare skin, tongue gliding across her teeth. She hadn’t properly drunk in a while, and it was oh so tempting. “Are you sure? I can control myself... maybe.” She would do her best to abstain.

“Yes. I’m sure. It’ll be like in that one episode where Ruri-chan’s best friend was turned into a vampire and needed blood so Ruri-chan sacrificed herself for them to not suffer! A true inspiration!”

Her soft giggle drew his attention back to her. “You’re so funny, Levi. I bet Ruri-chan would be super proud of you.”

Tears welled in his eyes. If that were true, he could die a happy demon. “Alright, let’s do this! Ahh- ouch!” Levi whined as her fangs pierced his skin. It was nothing at all in Ruri-chan! It stung and burned. He clenched his fist and bit his lip. He would not back down.

But damn did it hurt!

Nell drank enough to feel full and then collapsed forward onto his lap with a happy sigh. “You have nice blood,” she whispered, eyelids too heavy to stay open. With a full tummy and the adrenaline of the day wearing off, the little vampire fell promptly asleep.

“I’ll do some research on where you can purchase blood. In the meantime, be sure to keep her in here where none of the others will find her,” Satan said. Once Mammon or Asmo got a hold of a secret, the entire house would know about it in a matter of minutes.

“Thanks, Satan. I owe you,” Levi said, reaching a hesitant head out to pet her white hair. She was kind of like a pet, like Henry, but more hands on. He lifted her up and climbed into his tub with her. She’d been right, they both could fit in here comfortably. For the first night ever, he didn’t need his Ruri-chan pillow.

But keeping her a secret would turn out to be much harder than he’d imagined.

#obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #levi adopts a vampire #papa levi #the little vampire #chapter 2 #he's so soft for her

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katnissmellarkkk · 4 years

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AN: Hiiiii, alright I’ve been working on this story since I posted my first chapter and, as it turns out, no surprise, this is gonna be longer than I originally expected. Probably like five-ish chapters? I’m not re-writing every chapter or part of Mockingjay if Peeta wasn’t hijacked, just snippets of the essential plotline and events if Peeta hadn’t been hijacked.... did that make sense?

Alright, anyways, I wanna also take this time to say I definitely did not expect the amount of love I received on the first part of this and omg I’m so honored and touched. I really wasn't expecting you guys to be so supportive in this fandom. Thank you all so much, for liking, commenting and reblogging. It really made me so happy <3.

Also if you didn’t read part one and you want to, here’s the link.

I hope everything’s going well for all you reading this!

Also I need a title for this so any suggestions are more than welcome alright buh-bye.

Shattered Pearl

| Part One |

I know I've been shot. I felt it hit me, right underneath my chest. If I didn't vaguely remember standing in the tunnels, appealing to and pleading with the District Two men, trapped inside the Nut, the gunshot of a man standing behind us in the crowd, too cowardly to come closer and confront me to my face, if I didn't retain the image of seeing myself shot on television, I'd swear I'd been hit by one of the Capitol trains that once took me and Peeta district to district.

The thought of the train brought back memories I'd long held close to my heart. I had never spoken of nights shared between me and Peeta on the Victory Tour and prior to the Quarter Quell. Not to anyone. Not even Prim. It felt too personal and too vulnerable a memory to let anyone else claim it. For so long it was all I had to cling to, with him presumed dead and then only seen on Caesar's talkshow, tormented and a shell of the boy with the bread.

I miss him now, as I lay despondently, wherever I am. I feel a jabbing pain right where I predict I was shot, the injury feeling closer to a brutal beating than a penetration.

My mind whirls and flies and wracks itself up and down, backwards and forwards and side to side and somehow I can't remember even a split second where I felt the bullet enter into my body.

I feel my consciousness, my awareness, growing stronger now, slowly crawling in an upwards motion, like I was lying on the bottom of a lake and I'm only now floating to the top.

When my head breaks the surface, there's a bright, ugly, glaring light stinging my eyes and my first thought is one of comparison. Does Peeta experience this too, when he wakes up in his recovery room? Do they actually think that'll help anyone recover here, blasting unsettling yellow colors into their eyes as soon as they crack open? Is it their idea of a luxury, since everything and everyone else is so void of color here in Thirteen, like one of Peeta's drawings that have yet to be painted.

"Disorienting, huh?" I hear a familiar—so familar—voice laugh quietly. "I think Thirteen believes the more the lights hurt your eyes, the less we'll use them and the more energy they'll save in the end."

"Peeta?" I mean to murmur but instead my voice comes out in a whimper.

"Shh," he whispers, his voice all gentleness and sweetness now. The teasing, conversational edge is gone. He runs his fingers through my hair, pushing it back from my sweat covered forehead, hoping the ministration will soothe me.

It takes me longer than it should to place, but it strikes me after a moment that his voice now reminds me of a different foreign place and a different wound and an altogether different time.

The confusion. The comforting, appeasing voice. The soft, tender gesture. It eerily reminds me of waking up in the cave, after having bled out from my head, only to find my body weak and Peeta's shockingly strong and the tables turning and him taking care of me.

My hands act to their own accord and cannot be stilled, no matter how comforting Peeta's fingers feel, sifting through my hair.

I fumble roughly with the bandages covering my left side, where the bullet must have hit, and I force my eyes wide open now, in spite of the still disturbing light overhead.

"What am I still doing here?" I ask before I can really register what I'm saying. At his confused and—now I can see his features better, with my eyes adjusting to the brightness—exhausted face, I clarify. "The bullet didn't kill me?" I look to him for confirmation.

"No," he promises smoothly, understanding my puzzlement now. "No, I promise you, the bullet didn't kill you."

"What happened?" I ask, my voice and body both still far weaker than I'm in any way comfortable with. "I think I blacked out after I was shot."

Peeta forces himself to give me a faint ghost of a smile. "Yeah, I imagine that happens when a bullet hits you in the side." He takes my hand in his and begins to softly kiss it, repeatedly. Finally he replies, "you were shot on live TV and everyone in the country saw you go down. Coin and Plutarch decided immediately to spin this and fake your death. But Cinna made your Mockingjay outfit bulletproof. The bullet never touched you," he assures before adverting his eyes as they grew watery with his words.

"Peeta," I start, my voice raspy as it's ever been.

"I don't think I was that scared in the Capitol," he blurts out as if I didn't speak. "Snow knew, he always knew, that you getting hurt would have been worse torture than anything else he could have ever done to me."

"How do you think I felt when Snow and his guards had you prisoner?" I shoot back before I can stop myself. His torture was harrowing enough without me making it all about myself. He flinches slightly at my words but tries to mask it, for my sake, no doubt. I reach out and squeeze his hand, my body's grip embarrassingly lame and in no way soothing. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

"No," he automatically refutes. "Don't apologize to me. You have enough people putting their burdens on your shoulders without adding me to that list."

I swallow hard now, my memory starting to piece everything together and I remember suddenly that this is the first time I've seen Peeta since Coin's men had essentially interrogated him into hysteria.

I hadn't told him I was even going to Two. I didn't even tell him how long I'd be gone.

And then I got shot on camera. And—as I should have predicted—the rebels used this opportunity to their advantage.

I can imagine what that felt like for him. I remember on the hovercraft to and for the first few weeks in Thirteen. Refusing to eat. Refusing to speak. Hiding in closets and sleeping only sporadically. Picturing every single time I closed my eyes Peeta being beaten to death, Peeta being abused, Peeta crying out helplessly.

I wait for him to blink back his tears again before final speaking. "Can I apologize for not telling you I was going to Two in the first place?"

Something new crosses his features and in place of the fear, the agony, the pain, comes an almost sarcastic, satirical expression. "Please do, Sweetheart."

I roll my eyes instinctively when he calls me sweetheart. He'd only ever called me that in the past to get on my nerves or irritate me. "You sound like Haymitch," I can't help but point out.

"This isn't sounding like an apology for lying."

"I'm getting there."

"I've been waiting for days."

I raise my eyebrow mockingly. "So that's why you're here by my bedside?"

"Only reason. I'm out as soon as I get my reparation."

"Well in that case," I trail off, shrugging—and inwardly cringing at the movement before bringing his hand to my lips now and planting a kiss there. "I'm not apologizing then."

He laughs and I pretend to be put out, which works until I try to cross my arms in false indignation and involuntarily eject a loud gasp of pain from the way the motion upsets whatever is broken inside of me.

Peeta drops the ruse then too and stand from his chair, sitting on the side of my bed to get closer to me. "Hey, it's okay," he murmurs softly, cupping my cheek and turning my distressed face towards him now. "Breathe," he commands genially, leaning his forehesd against mine. "The pain will go away, Katniss, just breathe."

I let out a large breath but it only makes the pain worse and eventually I just grip the hand cupping my face and squeeze with all my might. The lame grip I felt ashamed of minutes before is now replaced with an adrenaline rush of strength and I nearly break Peeta's hand in my much smaller one.

He doesn't complain and begins to rub my back to calm me down. When the searing, paralyzing discomfort subsides, the first thing I utter is, "so if I never got actually shot, what is going on with my body?"

He strokes my face affectionately. "You have a bruised lung. Bruised ribs. And your spleen was ruptured so they removed that."

"So I'm without a spleen?" I realize, my voice raising involuntarily. For some reason, I'm petrified that a whole organ was taken out of my body and I had no say in it whatsoever.

"You don't need it, Katniss," Peeta quickly reassures.

I deflate then, not sure if I feel any better or not. Peeta's words suddenly come back to me.

"Katniss, these people aren't too different from the ones in the Capitol."

Would I trust Snow or his guards to remove my spleen? No. So should I be okay with Thirteen operating on me?

I shake my head, knowing this is redundant and ridiculous. My spleen was ruptured. They'd saved my life. I was being paranoid for nothing and I couldn't afford falsely accusing the very people I needed to survive. Especially not when they likely are what saved my life.

Peeta sees my face contort and the disheartenment etch itself across my features. Still remaining tender and cautious, he leans his own wounded, beaten face down and places kisses against my cheek.

I try to hold off but his lips bring a smile to mine, and even with all the confusion bubbling around my head, all the disbelief and uncertainty, in regards to my feelings towards him, Gale, Coin, this war and the Revolution itself, I still can't help the feeling of hope spreading across my chest, filling my heart up in a way I never let myself consider it could again.

"Peeta?" I whisper then and he pulls back from planting kisses on my face to look at me.

"Hmm?"

"If my lung is bruised, why did you tell me to breathe deeply to stop the pain?"

He freezes for a second, contemplating and considering before a slightly bashful smile crosses his mouth. "You're the healer here, not me," he finally teases. When I smile back at him, he leans in simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the word, and kisses me full on the mouth.

The kiss catches me off-guard but only after the fact. In the moment it feels right and tingly and reassuring and I'm lightheadedly happy and I don't even know what to make of how I feel on the inside.

"I'm not a healer," I remind with very little passion for the correction in my voice.

He laughs again lightly but then bites his lip and brushed my hair back. "You did say that to me in our first games, right? Real or not real?"

I hesitate for a full ten seconds before I respond, my face scrunching up. His words almost seem like an already formed game that no one had explained the rules of. "Real," I finally answer.

He's already elaborating before I can ask. "Finnick came up with it. He said it works for Annie and I should try it. If I'm ever unsure about anything that happened or what the Capitol tried to make me believe, I should ask." He shrugs then, slightly abashed. "It's repetitive-"

"It's actually a really good idea," I encourage, grabbing his hand in mine again and giving him a reassuring squeeze. And he looks at me then and gives me a grateful smile and his eyes are lighter now than they were when I woke up and I don't know where this is even going between us or if it's even going anywhere and I don't know where Gale stands and I really can't focus on my feelings right now because I'm a symbol of an entire revolution, whether I asked to be or not, and it may be selfish or immature, but I push away all my other conflicting thoughts and pull the boy with the pretty blue eyes down towards me.

He goes willingly, wrapping his body to me, only placing pressure on my right side, and I feel his face burrow in my neck. When his lips press to the sensitive skin there, like he's done dozens of times before, I shiver instinctively and close my eyes against him.

For the first time in forever I feel, for a fleeting moment, safe.

Prim and my mom interrupt not too long after that, but for some reason—other than Prim's cheerful smile—they don't comment on the compromising position they found us in.

Peeta promptly moves back to his previous chair and remains there for the duration of the day.

Haymitch joins us not even five minutes after my mom and sister, and he brings boiled cabbage stew from the cafeteria in tow.

"Here you go, Sweetheart," he says with a large smile, looking at the disgusting concoction with excitement now.

I look at the bowl, wishing I had more of an appetite so I could actually feel some desire to eat it. In spite of Haymitch's jokes, the cabbage stew would have been a luxury to me once upon a time, when all I could find to fill my screaming stomach was mint leaves and, if I were lucky, the roots I was named after. "How'd you know I'd be awake?" I inquire, turning the spoon around in the bowl.

"Oh I didn't," my old mentor quickly replies, plopping down in a chair against the wall. "It was for the boy." He gestured towards Peeta, who's running his fingers softly along my spine, inconspicuous enough that not even Prim catches on. "But I figure you deserve it more, since you're the one in the hospital. Speaking of that, why did you two switch places?" He asks, brash and wry.

My mom glares at Haymitch, disapproving of his callous comment, which catches me completely off guard.

My mother usually ignores all chatter between me and Haymitch and Peeta, only chiming in if Haymitch is speaking of something from Twelve that I'd be too young to understand.

I remember then watching Haymitch's tape on the train with Peeta, realizing he and my mom shared a permanent tie labeled Maysilee Donner. I look between them for a hint of familiarity I didn't see before and quickly realize Peeta's doing the exact same thing.

My mom quickly turns back to me, and gingerly but vigoriously, coaxes the stew into my stomach, even when I try to refuse because my ribs ache and using any of my muscles leaves me feeling irritable and shaky and hot inside.

"Just a little bit more, sweet girl," my mom murmurs, forcing me to finish the entire bowl, and it's only when Prim looks at me, the corners of her mouth turning upwards, that I realize my mom had used a long forgotten term of endearment. One that I'd rejected since her bout of deep, delbilitating depression.

I didn't comment on it and I don't think my mother even realized, but I avoid Peeta's eyes because evidently, by the looks of his smirk, even he knew the exchange was rare and hard to come by.

Just as I all but lick the soup bowl clean and my mom's whispering mournfully she has to go back to work and was only allowed to come see me for lunch. I am caught off guard once again though, when she kisses my forehead and whispers, with audible tears, that she loves me so much.

I feel like a monster all of a sudden, for the absolute hell I must have put her through.

I squeeze Prim's hand as tight as I can as she takes our mom's seat and scoots it even closer to my bed. "Hey, little duck," I greet in my most comforting voice. "How're things while I was gone."

Prim, as usual, puts up a-albeit, very weak-pretense in order to make me feel better. "They were okay for the most part." She pauses and bites her lip, contemplating to herself before adding. "It was just hard because we didn't even know you were leaving and then we watched you be shot on live TV."

"I know," I murmur apologetically, because it's all I can do. "I'm so sorry, Prim."

But my sister's shaking her head before I can finish and I swear Peeta and Haymitch roll their eyes at the same moment and if Prim wasn't here, I'd be telling them both off.

"No one's mad at you, Katniss," she promises, like that's my concern. People I love being angry, not people I love going through absolute turmoil. "Just... next time could you let us know?"

I nod automatically, because I want my sister to feel better, even though I'm unsure if I can even fulfill this promise. "Yeah, of course."

Prim just stares at me for a moment. "You're such a bad liar," she finally calls out.

Haymitch noisily laughs from across the room, but Peeta remains completely stoic now, and I want three sets of eyes so I could focus on multiple people at once.

I choose to keep my focus on my little sister. "Prim," I start, my voice still unconvincing. "I just... I never know what's going to happen next, so it's hard to know ahead of time what I'll do. The last thing I want, that I've ever wanted, was to worry you and mom."

"Yeah, but, Katniss," She refutes even and diplomatically. "You not telling us only makes it worse. Finding out from strangers you and Gale disappeared off to District Two on a secret mission with the rebels? Only to watch them fake your death? It was as bad as watching you in the games."

I feel my chest constrict and the breath fly out of my aching lungs as I swallow down the lump formed in my throat. "Prim, I never meant-"

"She knows, Katniss," Peeta chimes in, his hand sifting through my hair once again.

Prim looks at Peeta—with more familiarity than I've ever seen between them before—and then back at me. "He's right. I know you never meant for that to happen but... if you could just let us into the loop a little more, it'd make things a lot more bearable."

I nod, meaning my promise to keep her and our mom more informed now. I squeeze Prim's hand again and ask quietly, "how bad was mom when I was shot?"

Prim's eyes shoot to Peeta almost intractably. But I catch it and I press it before they can pretend it didn't happen.

"What's going on with you two?"

They both look at me in utter shock. Or is that the look of getting caught keeping a secret?

"Nothing," Prim immediately covers. Peeta, on the other hand, doesn't react so quick, and instead chooses to just shut his eyes to avoid looking at me.

There's something more going on that they want to avoid telling me. And instinctively, I don't think it's about my mother. Even without him meeting my glance, I can tell Peeta's embarrassed about something.

"Prim," I say evenly. "You're a worse liar than I am."

"You actually are, kid," Haymitch adds. "Didn't think that was possible."

"What happened when I was shot?" I ask again, my voice closer to a threat than a comfort now.

"Let it go, Katniss. It's not important," Peeta urges, his own voice more worn and irritated than I'd heard it since the last games.

"When has she ever let something go?" Haymitch ponders, unfazed by our whole exchange.

"Katniss," Prim starts but I cut her off. I can tell she was going to placate me, like getting shot turned me into our mother.

"As your older sister, you're not allowed to lie to me."

"C'mon now, Sweetheart. That's not being fair."

"Then you tell me, Haymitch. What happened when I was shot that they don't want me to know?"

Our old mentor sighs deeply but I can tell he's relenting. If I couldn't see the resignation on Haymitch's face, Peeta's whole body tensing up in anticipation would be a dead giveaway.

"The boy had a meltdown when you were shot," Haymitch finally states. He gives Peeta a long, measuring look before continuing. "He basically went ballistic and lost his grip on reality." He moves his eyes to train them on the floor of my hospital room. I know he's trying now to avoid Peeta's furious eyes, full of betrayal.

"What?" I turn and look at the boy beside me, remorse overtaking my entire being. I reach out and touch his face but he won't look at me, even when I try to force him.

"He was frantic for days. Couldn't tell the difference in reality and the lies the Calitol fed him. He was only released probably an hour before you woke up. So I guess you guys have good timing," Haymitch adds, trying too hard to lighten the mood.

"Peeta," I whisper after a beat, pleading with him to just look at me, talk to me, but to no avail.

"Peeta, talk to her," Prim begs on my behalf.

"It wasn't that severe," he finally states, his voice extremely muted now as he speaks in a hushed tone, only to me. "I didn't want to tell you because you don't need anything else on your plate. Especially not about me. And it was barely worth mentioning."

"I think it was worth mentioning," Prim chimes and Haymitch points at her and nods.

"She's got better sense than both of you."

Peeta ignores Haymitch. "Prim," he groans with an air of affinity that still boggled me. "Stop. It was fine."

"You were so upset though. And she should know, since she's the one the Capitol wanted to hurt when they tortured you," she advocates, impressing even me with her reason. "And I think we should all stop lying," my pure-of-heart little sister tacts onto the end.

Haymitch nods affirmatively towards Prim again, and I see something akin to wonder now in his eyes as he looks at her, and it takes no more than common sense to realize he's imagining life with Prim as his victor and how much easier that would have been.

"I just don't think now is the time to be talking about this, Prim," Peeta tersely states.

I can't help but interject now, after having witnessed their exchange this whole time, "I'm sorry, but do you two know each other?"

A look is exchanged between all three of them and I'm so tempted to ask if they'd like me to leave so they can freely converse in private. Finally Prim informs quietly, "me and mom were there with Peeta when he got upset. He actually helped mom because she had somewhere to focus all her own emotions. You know how she is, Katniss. When things get rough, she puts all of herself into her healing."

"Glad of be of service," Peeta mumbles despondently and I can see in his troubled eyes, he's blatantly ashamed of himself.

"Peeta," I murmur softly, taking his hand against his will—he tries to fight me from even picking it up—and bringing it to my lips.

He sighs deeply and offers me a half smile. "My being a lunatic doesn't disturb you?"

"Of course not," I quickly dispute. My mind is still processing all of this though. "So you and my family... bonded after I was shot?"

Peeta outwardly groans, dropping my hand. "Let it go, Katniss."

"I just never considered it a huge connecting technique. You know, I could have gotten shot a long time ago-"

"That's not even funny," Peeta chides and there's nothing humorous in his voice now.

I shut up instantly, feeling the mood of the room drop. Even Haymitch falls silent and adverts his eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry," I finally whisper and I don't know who I'm apologizing to, Peeta or Prim. I'm know I'm not saying sorry to Haymitch, who is still lolled in his chair across the room. Although maybe I should, since he was undoubtedly as scared as the rest of my family. Not that he'd ever admit that to me.

Peeta shakes his head and his expression softens. Leaning in closer, he gently brushes his lips to my cheek, very lightly and very chaste, considering Prim's proximity.

"Just don't lie to us again," Prim pleads, taking my other hand firmly. "No matter how much you want to protect us."

I nod obligingly, maybe more to relieve my guilt than anything else but I do actually mean my promise. "Okay," I swear.

Peeta pushes back my hair soothingly before running the back of his hand over my cheek. "Okay," he finally repeats, only loud enough for me to hear.

And I know then that he's forgiven me.

///

Within an hour, my mom, Gale, Boggs, Plutarch and my doctor all join the party inside my hospital room.

"Isn't there a limited amount of people allowed in one room?" Haymitch retorts gruffly, unhappy about being squished into the corner and unable to spread out the way he was before.

"Oh there usually is," Plutarch confirms, his tone more joyful than I find appropriate, given my situation. And the state of the rebels now. "But I asked Coin to make an exception for Katniss."

"Can Coin make an exception and give Katniss a bigger room?" Gale mumbles under his breath.

I laugh at his sarcasm and his disgruntled expression. We'd made amends on the way to District Two, not wanting to be in potentially dangerous territories and still on the outs with each other. I expected the issues that made us clash—and whatever feelings that still lied between us—would all come to a head once we returned to Thirteen, but we unexpectedly took longer than anticipated in Two and now I was wounded. And even Gale can't deny he was scared out of his mind when I went down. Even he isn't in the mindset to wrangle with me.

I squeeze Peeta's hand in my own and pretend I don't see Gale's envious eyes staring at our interconnected limbs. I don't feel the same guilt I usually do when it was apparent Gale was upset by me and Peeta, and I wonder, idly, in the back of my mind, if this isn't because of the morphling I'm pumped full of.

My doctor is one of the same people who checked Peeta out after he was rescued and I realize I don't even know his name. It doesn't seem like I'll learn it now either, as he barely speaks. I'm half inclined—though I know it's impossible—to think my own mother is the one who operated on me, from the lack of insight the man provides.

In any case, the doctor doesn't seem concerned in the slightest about me and slips out of the room as soon as Plutarch shifts the conversation in a new direction.

"So, I was wondering," he starts, his face still much too happy to completely sit right with me. "Maybe if you'd be up—once you're out of bed and recovered, of course—to film a propo?"

I just stare at him blankly, wondering how on Earth he expected me to have any desire to film anything right now, while I'm still currently getting pain relievers pumped into my veins.

He misreads my expression and quickly adds, "Of course Peeta would be in it! The Star-Cross Lovers need to be shown reunited. I feel that could help with the cause immensely—"

He keeps talking but I automatically tune out his chirping voice as he prattles on. I can see his vision now. The Mockingjay Lives splayed across the screen, me and Peeta wrapped in an embrace, my voice loud and strong, announcing that we're going to keep fighting to the end.

I'm not the only one looking at Platurch like he's grown a second head. The only person who's not looking at the man with distain or disbelief is Haymitch, who's expression is either mildly entertained or filled with such incredulity that he looks like he's grinning.

Peeta's reaction is much stronger than I expect and it's only after he looks like he's grown nauseous from disgust or is planning on throwing something at Plutarch's joyous face, that I realize Peeta has no real experience with the Gamemaker.

He was in the Capitol the entire time I've really gotten to know Plutarch and the man's antics must seem completely foreign to Peeta.

I squeeze his hand before he can say anything and shake my head in Plutarch's general direction. He isn't harmful and I don't want Peeta to waste the energy he needs to recover.

But he has trouble swallowing down his obvious repulsion and his hands begin to shake and his eyes are far angrier than I would have expected in these circumstances a few months ago.

It's my mom who is murmuring about Peeta needing to check in with his doctors and how she'll walk him down there and she waits expectantly for him to get up and part of me faintly envies him for some reason. And I realize quickly that it's the way she talks to him—it's the way she speaks to all patients of her's, really. It's a firm tone, that's still kind but is very direct. Maybe a little authoritative and unyielding. And I realize at once it's a tone I almost never heard again after my dad's death and I took over caring for the family.

And I miss it. Despite everything. Despite my lack of trust in her and my fear she'll retreat back into her shell one day and leave me and Prim behind all over again. Despite my instincts to never put my faith in my mother again, a big part of me still misses the days when she parented me.

Peeta sighs, seeing through the ruse, and kisses my nose before heading out the door behind my mother.

Plutarch follows too, blatantly unaware of what he set into motion, and saying he was needs to review the film of the other Victors for their propos. I'm still appalled he wanted to parade me out while I'm lying in a hospital bed, but I do feel a bit more at ease knowing it's not just me and Peeta he wants to exploit for the sake of the rebellion.

I wished to myself I could actually go to where the fight was. That I could actually have a shot of getting close enough to really be involved in taking down Snow and his supporters, rather than being filmed as a icon to motivate other people to fight in this war.

I kept this to myself, as my even being in this bed was proof of what happened when I was a more central part of the fighting. And even then, I somehow managed to get shot while they were essentially using me as a talking piece for the other soldiers.

But there was something else on my mind and I turned to focus onto Gale now. Only he, Prim and Haymitch remained in my room and Prim was telling my old mentor about the medical uses of alcohol. I don't know what she planned on accomplishing with that, but it worked as a diversion for me at the moment.

"Okay, so what happened?" I press Gale in a hushed voice when I know Prim isn't listening. He gives me a quizzical look and I quickly clarify. "With Peeta and my mom and Prim?"

Comprehension fills his eyes and he sighs before continuing. "I wasn't there for the beginning. Obviously. I was with you in District Two. But I know that he was watching TV when you were shot, and he completely lost it. Apparently it triggered some kind of flashback to something they used to do to him in the Capitol. He was still yelling when we arrived back. I heard it when I passed his room while you were in surgery. Whatever Snow did to him-"

He's promptly cut off by a new but familiar voice joining the room now. "Ah, yes," Johanna Mason shoves back the curtain separating my cubicle from the one next door. Her's, I guess. "Fond memories you mention, Handsome." She winks at Gale. "One of Snow's favorite methods of torture. The old 'make Peeta watch a thousand fabricated video simulations of Katniss being brutally murdered, on repeat. Don't let him sleep. Beat him. Water him down and beat him some more. Make him watch the Katniss Dying Simmulations again', until he can't even tell you what's real and what's not."

I just stare at her, my heart sinking in my chest rapidly. "What?" Is all I can manage to say, my mouth drying up fast.

"I mean, there were worse forms of torture Snow and his men liked to use on me and your fiancé, but I was told you needed to be kept in the dark about those," she state cheekily, obviously trying to goad me.

"Who told you to keep me in the dark?" I snap, my eyes shooting between Prim, who's now looking right at me, and Gale.

Johanna, much to my surprise, points to Haymitch. The older man is still laid out in a chair in the corner of the room, having made himself comfortable again, but at least now has the decency to look sheepish.

"Listen, Sweetheart," he immediately defends. "You and the boy have your own separate issues, alright? You both don't need to take on the other's all the dang time."

"Haymitch-" I start to growl but am caught off guard by a completely unexpected noise. Johanna's hysterical, dark, morbid laughter.

"I can't believe you were rescued and I was tortured, and I'm expected to protect you from the truth."

I don't blame her. No one could honestly. She was tortured because of me and the rebels. She could say and do whatever she wanted at this point, and no one had the right to tell her differently.

"Johanna," I start but let her cut me off once again, becoming accustomed to the feeling.

"And don't worry about Peeta," she says but the resentful shake of her head doesn't fill me with hope. "Your mom made him her project once they informed her your suit was bulletproof. Her and your sister basically walked him off the ledge."

And because I know she's the only person who will be completely uncensored—something I can't even say about Haymitch these days—I blurt out my next question. "What was Peeta saying? When he lost it?"

Her response is immediate and I get the impression she enjoys telling me, for some sick reason.

"Give me back to the Capitol. They'll find a way to revive her if you give me back. I want to go back. I'll trade my life for her's. Please, let me go back."

As soon as the words sunk into my brain, I wanted to puke.

So I did.

////

Johanna wasn't happy about my vomiting a literal foot away from her and she was downright livid when no one else appeared to be irritated with me but she reached a breaking point when both Peeta—who returned upon hearing my loud gagging—and Gale comforted me.

It was an odd sensation to be in not just conversation with both Peeta and Gale but to have them both be so sweet to me, at the same exact time. Without even so much as looking crossly towards the other one.

Gale held my hand and told me to calm down in a gentle voice he only ordinarily used for one of our sisters or his mom. Peeta was sitting opposite him, on the edge of my bed and telling me softly to just relax as he stroked my hair tenderly. Even Haymitch had gotten out of his seat to call an attendant to clean up my vomit and Prim and my mom were standing at the end of my bed, looking worriedly onto the scene.

Johanna's voice was biting as she took us all in. "How much hand holding does she need? Considering she was apparently strong enough to be the face of our entire cause."

"I shouldn't be," I instantly agree with her. "You should be. No one has to push you or tell you what to say."

"No one likes me, brainless," she says snidely, a leering smile spreading across her face.

"That's because everyone's afraid of you," Prim chimes in timidly, and I drop Gale's hand to reach for my little sister's, almost on instinct upon hearing her scared voice.

But Johanna has the decency to not swipe at Prim and instead gives her a sympathetic look. As if to say you don't have to be scared of me.

Her compassion evidently only extends to the thirteen-year-old, as when Finnick and Annie join the room right on the heels of Prim's words, Johanna barks out a cruel laugh. "Really? More people? Are we having a party to celebrate Katniss?" She gives everyone a mocking look around the room. "Well, I wish someone would have told me. I forgot to bring my streamers."

For some reason her tone suddenly forces back a memory of the last night in the arena. Her cutting my arm open and my red, hot, sticky blood gushing everywhere. My understanding at the time being that this was an attempt to kill me. I know now that this was the rebels' plan and she was really cutting out my tracker but the sense memory can't be so easily rationalized away.

I flinch outwardly and both Gale and Prim's faces silently ask if I'm alright. But I'm quickly distracted elsewhere.

I'm, once again, wholly surprised by Peeta's reaction.

"Don't you have anything else to do, Johanna, besides bug Katniss?" There's a strong irritability in his voice, one I'd only heard from an outsider prospective in the past. On the off occasion I'd witnessed he and his brothers in any sort of conversation. Their relationship was tense at times but they were still siblings and extremely close in age. That made for a lot of squabbling and a lot of fighting and a lot of sparring with each other. And a lot of aggravating each other, causing Peeta to behave in a way I'd never seen him otherwise.

"I don't know?" She shoots back, not even missing a beat. "Didn't I have better things to do than cuddle you after Snow's guards were done for the day? And yet, who's shoulder did you cry on? Who held your hand through our adjoining cells?" She smirks and it's obvious she's speaking for the rest of us to hear.

Annie makes an animalistic squeak and covers her ears. Finnick quickly wraps an arm around her and shoots a glare at Johanna.

"What?" She snaps. "Annie was there in the Capitol, Finnick. She know what went down."

"Doesn't mean you have to remind her of it," I state, my voice grave as I watch the mad girl Finnick loves more than life itself retreat into her own psyche.

And for some odd reason, I relate. To both Finnick, who's doing everything he can now to bring her back from the dark depths of her own mind, and Annie herself, who is buried beneath the ruins of a trauma she'll never be able to escape and is visibly struggling to dig her way back out.

I look to Peeta then, almost imperceptibly, and he just gives me a knowing, almost satirical glance. He was undoubtably thinking the same thing.

Johanna is ready to spit in my face, and she probably would, no doubt, if it were just the two of us. "You have no idea what went down after we were captured," she seethes, growing closer to me, and Peeta places an arm in front of her, blocking me from her reach, but I note the gesture isn't rough or hostile.

Gale and my mom both look like they're going to intervene. Finnick is busy with Annie now. Prim looks shell shocked and Haymitch seems to have lost interest in watching us.

For some reason, maybe it's the morphling, maybe I just feel safe surrounded by so many people who would stop her if she lunged for my throat, but I decide to reply. "Is that why you hate me so much?"

Her violent demeanor dissipates but she still has a spiteful glint in her gaze. "That's part of it. And partially because everyone is so obsessed with you. I've never seen anything about you that's so good or special."

"I agree with you about that," I say quietly, knowing it'll do nothing to mend fences with her.

Haymitch, who out of everyone I thought would agree as well, is the one who speaks up. "There's plenty good in that girl," he retorts sharply, his grey eyes hard as he stares at Johanna.

That caught me—and Peeta, by the look on his face—more off guard than anything Johanna had said thus far.

But it's Johanna's words, which aren't even directed at me, that send a chill to my spine. "Careful, Haymitch. Remember, I'm the one who's always there for the victor you constantly forget about. Or was that you who held his hand while the doctors and Mrs. Everdeen had him strapped down for two days?"

Gale is the one who responds, much to my surprise. "Okay, stop. I know you've been through—"

"Handsome," she cuts off, her voice clipped and snarky but she still bats her lashes in his direction. "You don't know anything."

"Johanna, please," Peeta murmurs now, his tone softer and a lot more understanding. "Please go back to your cubicle. I'll tell the doctors you're complaining of massive pain and need more morphling."

She stares at Peeta, her eyes softening the same way they did for Prim only minutes before. Finally she says, "it's the least you can do. Considering you wouldn't share your fiancé's with me."

And, as soon as she appeared, she had evaporated behind the curtain.

And I feel like somehow, I'm the only person who is left reeling in her absence.

/////

My mom was called back to work once again—and this time, she was made to stay there, my condition apparently too stabilized for them to be letting one of their better healers cut back on her hours—and she took Prim with her. I don't know if it was because Prim would be of use or if she just thought I needed alone time without worrying about my sister overhearing too much.

It occurs to me how much my mom is trying now to wordlessly look out for my needs. I decide to make a point in finding a way to say thank you to her. Even if our relationship will never be what it could have been, had there never been corruption or games or mine explosions. Had there been proper help to those suffering and in need.

Finnick chats with me and Peeta for a moment—and entirely ignores Gale but I suspect that's less about being intentionally rude and more about never knowing what to do with my best friend slash fake cousin—before escorting Annie away. She still looks shaken up and I wonder what happened to her in the Capitol. Or if she was already this unstable. I scarcely remember anything about her or her games, prior to what Peeta reminded me of in the Quell.

"You look tired," Peeta notes, brushing my hair back from my forehead. I smile lightly, about to kiss the palm of his hand before noticing Gale's eyes. They are quite apparently envious of Peeta's affection towards me and my acceptance of it, of how naturally Peeta can touch me, of the innate intimacy between the two of us that I never shared with him. But he tries his best to mask it and for that, I feel even worse.

I look to Haymitch without realizing it and somehow the older man understands without me even consciously thinking of asking.

"Boy," Haymitch grunts, putting on a good show as he stands up. "Let's go get some real food from the cafeteria. I hear if we say we'll participate in Plutarch's Propos, we can get better grub than the rest of Thirteen."

Peeta nods, his eyes gently running over my face, as if memorizing it in his mind. "Will you be okay-"

"Okay, Johanna was right," Haymitch barks now, grabbing Peeta by the back of the shirt, his grip much too docile to pass as normal though. "She'll be fine. Let's all stop hovering. She'll be up and tormenting us in a day."

I roll my eyes at his antics but smile meagerly at him as he guides Peeta out the door.

"Well," Gale breathes out as they leave. "That was subtle."

I laugh loud enough that I hear Johanna hiss from the cubicle next door. "I wanted to talk to you privately."

Gale chuckles. "Gathered that."

I know I have a limited time before Peeta returns and honestly I'm not too mad about that fact either, as I somehow, chessily, long for him now whenever he's gone. I inwardly cringe at myself before shaking it off to hurry this conversation along. "I wanted to apologize for me and Peeta. For how we can act. For..." I trail off, realizing too late I didn't pre-plan my words.

Peeta was right when he'd spat at Haymitch on the Victory Tour, "we all know I'm better on camera than Katniss. No one has to coach me on what to say."

I wished for his ease and talent with words now as I fumble around, trying to convey my message to the person who's been my best friend for years now.

He understands though—thankfully—and needs no more explanation. His tone has become solemn when he speaks. "You're really not faking it anymore, are you? Being in love with him?" His eyes are full of pain and he quickly downcasts them. "You fell in love with him in the Quarter Quell," he says as a fact, not a question.

"I don't know, Gale!" I exclaim, quick to defend myself here, like I'm being accused of something horrific. In truth, I feel like I am. I feel like I am, when I see how much it hurts him when me and Peeta are together. "I don't know how I feel. I just know I feel a lot for both of you."

"That's not good enough, Catnip," Gale whispers, shaking his head. But he uses my old nickname and that gives me hope. Hope that he won't hate me for not being able to give him what he wishes. Hope that I won't lose him entirely by the end of this war. "You really do need him."

I open my mouth to say something, anything, to try and rectify this. But I can't because it's true. Those are my words he's repeating back to me and they completely true. I do need Peeta. Maybe in a way I'll never need Gale. I don't know. I can't know. Not with all that rests on my shoulders already.

"What if I made you choose?" Gale presses now, leaning in closer. "What if I begged and pled and promised I'd find a way to make you happy? Would you pick me then?"

My mouth still hangs open, unsure what to say that get me out of this. I look towards the door, wishing Haymitch would reappear, that Peeta would burst through with his loud footfalls, that Johanna would pop back in and rub some salt in everyone's wounds.

All that would be preferable to this right now and I wonder why I ever wanted Haymitch to take Peeta away.

Gale shakes his head now though, having recieved his answer. "I thought so."

"Gale-" I start, not knowing where I was planning on taking the exchange but before I can even make a redundant attempt to mend whatever broke between me and him a long time ago, he's leaning in and his lips are pressing to mine and after half a second of shock, I'm giving in.

After everything I'd denied him, after all that he'd done for me and for my family, after how much he'd been there for me while Peeta was in the Capitol, I let myself give in and kiss him back.

His lips are different from Peeta's and I can't figure out how I feel about them. He's always been more grown, appearance wise, than Peeta and me, who both still could pass for years younger in the right clothing. But even his kissing is reeks of more experience, more practice, and somehow I find myself learning as his mouth shift under mine, as both his lips suck on my bottom lip expertly.

But it's lacking something and it's only then I realize, what I'm searching for inside Gale's mouth, is the spark that only Peeta's ever ignited in me. I keep waiting in vain for the warmth that started in my stomach and then rose up and exploded in my chest, for the craving that no matter what I couldn't manage to satisfy, for the thrilling, almost hysterical, tingly feeling, to overcome me and leave me lightheaded in a completely foreign way. A way that couldn't be attributed to lack of oxygen.

But it never does. I pull back and wipe my mouth carelessly on my arm and sigh, already sensing Gale's demeanor taking a nose dive at my lackluster reaction.

I'm not disappointed when I look to see his expression. His eyes are frustrated, his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are pinched together. And I feel as bad as I knew I would. Because no matter what, I'm hurting someone I deeply care for.

But how I feel upon seeing Gale's face isn't even comparable to the amount of remorse that fills me, that overtakes my entire being, when I see Peeta standing in the doorway, having watched our entire exchange.

#everlark #thg #everlark fanfic #everlark fanfiction #the hunger games #Katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #au #mockingjay #mockingjay au #canon divergence #shatteredpearl #my writing #100

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illusionlockarchive · 4 years

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Cornered: A short Security Breach fanfiction.

Hi!! As a foreword, I wanna say that this fanfic draws ideas from this little theory of mine, so if you’re confused by what is exactly going on between Vanessa and Vanny here, I recommend you check that out first. Happy reading!

content warnings: swearing, death threats, unreality

Vanessa jumped and backed up against the wall, her thumb pressing the elevator button once, twice, five times, maybe ten or twenty five times. Her heart pounded and the sweat that rolled now over her face lit up with the pink neon lights. Her vision blurred as a purple tint filled up her vision like a flood, as if someone had messed with the lights of the entire floor.

Graceful, mocking, flickering rabbits danced around her vision and encircled the woman in a rabbit costume in front of her. Like happy bunnies from a children's cartoon approaching a princess. They wanted her to go to her, of course. It didn't matter if she had a knife, long and sharp, glistening in the low light.

Vanessa squeezed her eyes together, hoping to make it all go away. For a moment she saw herself, as if she were in a movie, just another victim in the way, not enough to be the main character, one that put up a worthy fight, only to die at the knife, cornered, screaming. Maybe she would make a real scandal, raising her voice up high, struggling as much as she could, be the perfect movie cliche.

But she could not. Her eyes shot up again, and the rabbits hopped slowly alongside the woman who approached her, confident and slow. She was paralyzed, unable to even utter out a gasp. Of course, whatever had latched onto her, whatever had been messing with her head and body for these past months, would want her to just sit still like a good little sacrifice, as the true vehicle of this demon's will executed his plan perfectly.

All her resistance, her cries for help, her research on how to break free, for nothing. And the rabbit woman was getting closer. Vanessa gave a last attempt at resistance, shakingly holding her flashlight up, maybe hoping to blind the attacker, or even successfully block the knife, enough for the elevator to finally come up, though she knew, the virus had probably already spread to the goddamn entire building complex somehow.

She dropped it. It was barely even a blink, and she was dropping the flashlight to the side with a resounding clank, a slight bounce on the shiny checkered floor. One of the purple rabbits leaped forward with brighter glee, and a sinister smile. The bunny woman, oh, of course, she stopped for a moment just to tilt her head to the side, Vanessa could tell she was beaming behind the mask.

She squeezed her eyes together again, praying for a last second in which the elevator would open, she thought she would have so many thoughts, but now, her mind felt utterly empty, aside from the sinister grin of a purple rabbit, one she had been seeing in her nightmares for so long already.

The knife landed right next to her head. Vanessa's eyes shot open to see the rabbit staring right back at her, up to her face, so close, pinning her against the wall. She couldn't understand, was the attacker toying with her?

"Why are you making this so difficult, blondie? We're two of the same kind!" The bunny woman finally spoke up. Her voice was just as Vanessa expected it to be, mocking her in a sweet manner.

She drew the knife slowly, raking across the wall, a horrid scraping sound that made Vanessa's heart jump.

"It would be just so easy to give in... you don't even have to do the dirty work, honest!"

"W... what?" Vanessa's breath was shaky, she'd been certainly holding it for a while, and as she released it, it all came out heaving.

"Give in... give in!" The words echoed through her mind. The rabbits were climbing over her now.

"I'm not-" Vanessa swallowed, finally being able to speaking, the could touch of the demon seemed to be lifted for a second. "I'm not going to give in. I never asked for this- if you want to do... whatever it is you're doing, so badly, just kill me now!"

She surprised herself by how bodly and loudly she was speaking, blood boiling. It was the first time she felt she could directly speak to whatever had been tormenting her for so many months, making her lose track of her own actions, messing with her thoughts.

She wanted her voice to be heard one last time.

"I'll be of no use to you now, and I'll never be, so just get rid of me and stop trying to get me on your side for fuck's sake!"

The shouting seemed to be effective in at least getting the rabbit woman to back off, and the bunnies glitched and flickered out of view.

And then the woman... laughed? And began to laugh, and laugh, a giggle that turned into a deranged, uncontrollable fit of laughter, shaking and contorting her whole body. She came to the point of bending over, hands on her knees.

Vanessa just cursed under her breath, that seemed to buy her some time, so could that damn elevator hurry up?

"You, you are so funny, blondie. Acting like you're some sort of hero. Like it'll make a difference." The rabbit woman straightened up now, shooting a scarily piercing glare for someone wearing a smiling rabbit mask. "You and I know he doesn't care what any of us thinks. He'll just keep coming back. History is made by the winners, so why don't we get on their side?"

"Because it's not the right thing to do. How do you live with yourself, knowing that this is what he wants?" Vanessa replied. She lowered her head in defiance, gaze still fixated upwards to the woman. "You've seen it, right? The carnage, the torture, the manipulation, those are the things that he wants. How can you work with someone like that? What could you possibly get from that?"

The rabbit woman scoffed, and examined her knife as if she were looking at her nails, twisting it to reflect the multicolored lights. "You don't, like, know me, and you should stop acting like you care. It's too late for me. He chose me to carry his bigger part, to be the leader of the operation. You were just a backup plan, like all the other attempts."

"Fine." Vanessa glared at her. "Answer me this. When you bring that knife down, when you give the finishing blow, when you'll hear that kid's scream, when his blood gushes out and you can't stop yourself anymore, how will you be feeling?"

"I can look away. I'll close my eyes. I'll be a good vessel, at that time." The woman turned her head, gaze now at a distance that was not in this place or time. There was a softness to her voice. "It'll be like falling asleep for a moment, and waking up in the other."

"You can't be serious. You act like you're so high and mighty, the leader of the fucking bunch, but you clearly don't want to do this." Vanessa gritted her teeth now, glaring. She wanted so desperately for this to big her big break, finally getting through to that ridiculous killer rabbit.

The opposite effect, instead, took place. The woman leaped at her, with a sudden speed and strenght Vanessa thought she may surely die from a heart attack before the blade even pierced her, and she found herself pinned back up against the wall. This time, though, the knife was closer, threatening.

The sinister, wide open smile on the rabbit mask felt even more grim now, illuminate with an eerie glow. The purple lights came back on, as the words filled her mind, rapidly coming and going, like loose streams of thought.

"Die."

"Worthless girl."

"Your attempts will get you nowhere."

"I laugh at you from beyond death."

"Your death will be nothing but a testimony to your incompetence."

Dark rabbits in shades of purple and black danced.

For the second time, however, the blade did not come down.

The rabbit's arm shook, and swerved, but it did not come down. From within the suit, Vanessa could hear, a guttural growl, as if the person inside was fighting with all of her strenght to keep the blade in place.

For what purpose, again, did this torture come to be, Vanessa wondered.

As the two stayed frozen in the moment, the swirl of unwanted thoughts within Vanessa's head grew louder, into a cacophony of unpleasant suggestions, all interrupting each other and drowning themselves out in desperation to be heard.

The blade stood still, save for it shaking a bit along with the rabbit woman's arm.

"She's not the target. She is not your target. Killing her will get us nowhere. She is not my target. This will make it more complicated." The woman spoke, but Vanessa could tell, it wasn't to her. “Please, I’ll prove it to you, this isn’t worth it. I won’t forget what you told me. But she is not the target.”

The elevator's anticlimatic ring was what startled Vanessa, and she fell backwards, right into the inside of it. Scrambling back up, she pressed any button to close it as fast as possible and get away from there, before the rabbit woman could even realize what was happening.

Vanessa rode the adrenaline spike as she escaped her attacker, and her thoughts calmed down and gave way into her very own. She'd be safe, for the moment.

#don't be scared. i am here with you.#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf security breach

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kyber-kisses · 4 years

Text

Hung The Moon (1/2)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings; violence, gore, character death (maybe), cursing, nooses and everything that entails, some sketchy surgery, Sam playing doctor, cricothyrotomy. (Please consider this a DARK FIC)

Bad Things Happen Bingo

Square filled: bound and gagged (kind of)

Summary: after a hunting accident that takes one of the things Dean holds most dear, he is desperate to put the pieces back together (Takes place in s12)

It happened so fast.

It was like the moment they took you woke up from your drugged state your senses increased tenfold. You felt the rough canvas material of the sack being pulled over your head, your hands and ankles had been bound with cloth as you now teetered on the edge of what could only be a chair. The old wood creaking under your weight as you tried to shift.

But it was the rope around your neck that really had you scared. It was like every cell in your body was vibrating as your mind tried to hatch an escape plan. But in all truth, how were you supposed to get out of this mess? Sam and Dean were probably out looking for you- but the chance of them getting here before whoever had taken you decided to kick the chair out from under you was slim to none.

“You can give up the thought that they’ll actually save you.” A sudden voice spoke up from behind you, her accent immediately informing you on who exactly had captured you. “We have the Winchesters running in circles as we speak. They’re miles away.”

Fucking British men of Letters. Could you ever catch a break from them?

“Toni. I wish I could say it’s good to see you.” You swallowed, attempting to wriggle your wrist out of its binding. “But seeing as you put a damn bag over my head-“

“Goodness, I can see why the Winchesters like you so much. You’re a sarcastic chatter box just like the older one.”

“You wanna tell me why you got a noose around my neck? I thought you assholes were trying to recruit us, not kill us.”

The crack of her heels against the pavement gave way to where she walked, her shadow passing over the fabric of the bag over your head. If you could just keep her talking, you could buy yourself some more time.

“That was the original plan, yes. But you American hunters are too stubborn and reckless. It’s better to just wipe you off the playing field all together.”

Even with the canvas pulled over your eyes, you couldn’t help but roll them. It was like she loved hearing herself talk. “Well alright, Bonnie. Where’s Clyde in this whole situation? I thought for sure he’d be here too.”

“Ketch is busy with those flannel clad idiots of yours. Leaving them false breadcrumbs leading far, far away from here.” She quipped, the constant clack of her heels telling you she was somewhat occupied, giving you a chance to continue working on weaseling your hand out of its binding.

“So it’s just us girls? We should make a girls night of it. Order pizzas, paint each others nails-“

“Oh do shut up.” The sound of her heels quickly drew closer as she suddenly picked up her pace, your hand came loose and she struck the chair with her foot, kicking it out from beneath you and leaving you hanging. . . Literally.

It just happened so fast.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

“I’m telling you man, she has to be around here somewhere!”

“Dean, this is the fourth farmhouse we’ve checked tonight. She’s not here. Plus, Cas is searching for anything suspicious. He’ll give us a call if he finds anything.”

“She could be dying for all we know, Sam! Now we ain’t stopping until we find her!”

Dean spun around, throwing his fist into the rotting wood of the old abandon house. They had spent the last few hours searching for any clues to your whereabouts but it was like everything they found was steering them further away.

“So whats your plan? tear apart every abandon building in Georgia until we find her?”

“If that’s what it takes, yeah!”

He knew something was off the minute he and Sam had stepped back into the motel room earlier. Not a single thing was out of place and you were nowhere in sight. Everything about it screamed unusual. If you were to leave you would have texted him, informed him that you were going out.

“You know, this has those British bastards written all over it.” he growled, pulling the keys to the impala from his pocket, the older Winchester stormed back out the door. “Now c’mon, we gotta keep looking.”

Sam watched his brother go, letting out a deep sigh. As each minute ticked by Dean was growing more impulsive in his behavior. The second they realized something had happened to you he could see the fear cover him like a blanket. He knew how much his brother cared for you. You were like the sun and moon to Dean Winchester. . .and yet you had no fricken clue about it at all.

“Sam! You coming or what?! We don’t got all day!” Deans voice echoing through the threshold and pulling him forward, his phone also deciding it was the perfect time to go off right then and there.

Fishing the device out of his pocket, Sam quickly answered, ignoring the impatient look Dean was giving him from over the hood of the impala.

“Cas, you got anything?”

“I might. But I’m not sure. The place is heavily warded against angels.” His voice loud enough through the speaker to gain the jade eyed hunters attention, resulting in him throwing open the drivers side door and sliding in, the engine roaring to life in a matter of seconds.

“Where is he?” His voice heavy with urgency as Sam slid into the car, almost hitting his head on the window when Dean threw the car into drive at a record speed, peeling off onto the two lane road. “Sam! Where the hell is he?!”

“Cas, where are you?”

There was a muffled answer, drowned out by the thunder of the impalas engine, the older Winchester taking his eyes off the road to look wide eyed at his brother. “Well?”

“He said he’s just outside of Barnwell.”

“Barnwell? That’s the opposite direction in which we’ve been traveling!”

With another click, Sam put the angel on speaker, holding it up for better sound. “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe the clues that you have found were deliberately placed? Put there to send you in the wrong direction?”

Sam watched as his brothers head fell foreword in defeat, eyes closing momentarily as he rested his forehead against the steering wheel. “God. I’m so stupid! I’m so damn stupid.”

“Dean, no you’re not. We just couldn’t see things clearly in the panic. It happens.”

“I swear I’m gonna slit the throats of whoever took her.”

Shifting slightly in his seat, Dean pressed down harder on the gas, the world beyond the windows becoming a dark blur as he cut across the state. If anything happened to you, he would never forgive himself. He need you safe. He needed you.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Adrenaline flooded through Deans system as he slammed against the front door, splintering the door frame in one go as he tumbled into the dark.

“Check every room. She has to be here somewhere.”

Flashlight beams danced across the dusted surfaces of the vacant homestead as the brothers searched for any signs of life. The drive would have normally been around an hour long but Dean had managed to narrow it down to a clean twenty five. The house that Cas had found had long since been abandon, so overgrown with honeysuckle and kudzu that the building looked like a cocoon of greenery. The only signs that anyone had been there were the tire tracks in the driveway.

“Y/N, you in here?” Dean whispered, taking light footsteps through the house, Sam splitting of to check the basement. Cas was still out of commission due to the warding, resulting in him hanging back on the front porch.

Eventually the hunter fell back after finding no evidence of you,instead opting to follow the direction in which his brother had gone. The old stairs creaking under his weight as he descended into the dark of the basement.

“Sam, you find anything?”

His feet had barely touched down on the cement floor before the mass that could only be Sam barricaded him from going anywhere, his younger brother taking his shoulders in a vice grip and pushing him.

“Dude what the hell? You scared of the dark now?”

“Dean-“ Sam struggled, the words sticking like cotton in his throat. “go back upstairs.”

“Sam, just let me through. I’ll be fine.”

“No, I’m telling you, You don’t want to see this. Just get out of the house.”

The tone and words hit like an icy shock to Deans system, the hunter drawing his eyebrows together as he pushed against the hold Sam had on him. Alarms going off in his head as every muscle in his body felt like it had been bound tightly with wire. Maybe if his flashlight hadn’t illuminated his brothers face he wouldn’t have been so scared all of a sudden- but his face was pale and his eyes were wide and glassy.

And then his flashlight beam fell across the silhouette just beyond his shoulders and Dean felt his heart stop in his chest. The paralyzing fear spread through his body like icy liquid metal, jade eyes widening in dread as the flashlight slipped from his palm, clattering down the last two steps.

“No-no.” The word came out of his mouth shaky, his voice cracking. If it weren’t for the rotting banister and his brothers quick reflexes his buckling knees would have sent him to the ground.

The fallen flashlights beam now acted as some morbid spotlight to your fate. If it weren’t for the pair of bright yellow converse on the set of feet, neither brother would have guessed it was you. Your feet dangling a good foot above the floor, your body suspended like a puppet from the rafters.

No.no. this wasn't right. this was just some nightmarish landscape that his mind had cooked up. You weren't dead. You couldn't be. Not here. Not now. Not this way. You were supposed to always be there. The one thing that he would never lose. You were supposed to stay and he was supposed to find the courage to tell you he loved you.

You end wasn't supposed to be met with your neck in a noose.

“We gotta- we gotta cut her down.” he stuttered, finding that his tongue had practically gone limp in his mouth. They couldn’t just leave you there. “She---she-”

And then it was like a sudden adrenaline rush went through the hunter and he was pushing past the man blocking him from you. Maybe a part of him still didn’t believe what he was seeing, or that he could allow himself to really believe you were dead.

And He didn’t know what made him reach out for your wrist, but when he did- he found something he didn't expect to actually find. he found a pulse.

Eyes widening, he took a step back. “Sam, she’s still alive!” Letting go of your wrist, Dean whipped around, eyes finding the knocked over chair in the dark and racing to stand it up, jumping onto the base of it as he pulled out the knife tucked into his waistband. Sam was beside him in matter of seconds, ready to hold your body the second the rope was cut. As he did you dropped like an unstrung marionette into the hunters arms, the younger Winchester sinking to the floor. The sack was pulled away from your face and the noose was quickly loosened.

“How is she even still alive?”

“Her hand-“ Sam breathed, lifting up your left hand to show the bruises around your fingers. “She managed to wedge it between the rope and her neck before it could fully choke her.”

“We need to get her to Cas then!” Deans voice thundered around the otherwise empty room as panic overrode his system.

“If we move her I don’t know what will happen. I need you to go and grab Y/Ns emergency kit from the car. Along with the straw from your drink earlier.” Being as gentle as he could, Sam lifted the noose from around your neck, his hands shaking as he did. Meanwhile Dean was paralyzed with fear, also slightly confused as to why his brother wanted the fucking straw.” Now, Dean! Go!”

Another switch was flicked in his brain and the speed at which he took the stairs probably would have impressed most people. He ignored the shouts from Cas as he blew past, throwing open the trunk of the impala and rummaging around until he found your kit. And then he was flinging open the passenger door and ripping the straw from his cup, deciding it was better to not ask questions at this point and just grab what Sam told him. He didn’t bother closing the doors to the vehicle as he sprinted back into the house once more, almost falling down the stairs in the process.

Breathlessly, he fell to his knees and ripped open the kit, his hands shaking worse than his brothers. “Sam, what do you need?” His words falling out of his mouth rapidly. He didn’t know how to help you or what to hand his brother and he was on the verge of passing out from fear alone. “Sam!”

“I need you to cut off about a two inch piece of the straw. I also need your pocket knife.” His words earning a panicked look from Dean, but he did as he was told, handing over the objects quickly.

“What the hell are you going to do?!”

“We need to puncture her airway. Get air into her lungs.”

“And you know how to do that?!”

There was a pause. “Kinda. Read about it in a book once.”

“Kinda? What if it doesn’t work?!”

“Then she dies. Now I need you to shut up and trust me because this is the only chance we got at saving her. Now hold her head steady for me.”

Despite his whole uneasiness with the entire situation, Dean complied, moving to hold your head in place as Sam brought the pocket knife to your throat, being as steady as he could when making the incision. Everything in the older Winchester wanted to tear his eyes away, but they seemed glued to what was happening. There wasn’t exactly a gentleness either as he put the small piece of straw into the incision, having to of course make sure it reached your windpipe.

Suspense blanketed the three until there was a stuttered breath from your unconscious form and your chest ever so slightly rose as your lungs wheezed with lost air.

“Was that it? Did it work?”

“Yeah, yeah I think it did. But we need to get her up to Cas. Hopefully he still has some juice left to help fix her.”

Dean let out a sigh of partial relief, shifting so he could get a better look at you, his calloused hands moving to cup your face, still shaking from the whole ordeal. Through the blurriness of the tears in his eyes he could still make out the rope marks on your neck. He wanted you to wake up, tell him who did this to you. He wanted you to really confirm that you were still with him. But he knew it was better for you to stay unconscious.

“We’re gonna get you to Cas, okay Sweetheart? You’re gonna be fine. You're gonna be Just fine.”

Read part 2 Here

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester angst #dean winchester #spn x reader #supernatural #bi-danvers writing #bi-danvers0 #bad things happen bingo

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