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dopescotlandwarrior · 5 years ago

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Sinners & Saints-Chapter 12

A special thanks to @statell for all your help

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Twelve (NSFW) Chapter notes on AO3

The morning broke peacefully on the day Javier and Joseph were flying back to Paris. Claire had a huge breakfast for everyone on the foredeck and even Jamie was in attendance. He was looking better and was staying awake longer each day. He was indebted to these men for coming at a moment’s notice to help Claire with her grief.

Claire hugged each of them, waved, and blew kisses as the cab rolled away. Maia had come with them and now walked with Claire back to the boat.

“Has Jamie said anything about the scars yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Has he told you how he ended up with Hesser?”

“No.”

“Well, we have ten days at sea before we hit Jamaica. Maybe all that time alone will make him talk.”

“I certainly hope so.”

Darius was excited to get out to open water so Claire and Jamie got comfortable on the foredeck to say goodbye to Greece, civilization, other boats, people, everything except endless miles of ocean.

”Can we talk a bit Sassenach? Every time I get ready to explain things, I decide it’s not the right day to ruin for you and I put it off.” He stuck his nose in her hair and pulled her smell into his nose. “God, you smell good.” He sat up and looked into her eyes, “are you ready mo chridhe?”

“Yes, although I don’t think you’re capable of ruining my day. Your mouth is too beautiful, your eyes are too mesmerizing, your body is too close to me. So, do your best Mister Fraser, and don’t pout if I smile through your story.”

“It starts when I woke up in what I thought was a hospital. I was so scared, and I just wanted to find you, but people were holding me down and that made me fight more. My back was on fire and every movement was excruciating, even so I fought them until they knocked me out. This happened every time I woke up, many times. I saw the doctor standing over me once, at least I thought he was the doctor. He started shouting at me about not having a candidate for the white house and it was all my fault. He finally settled down and told me it had been a month since I fell into the water with Frank. I was shocked it had been that long. He said my wounds were starting to heal, but it would be a long recovery. He handed me a tape recorder and your voice soothed me and gave me hope.

“I can’t imagine how awful it was for you, alone, severely wounded with that man hovering over you. But you’re home now Jamie, and we can forget this whole incident if we try. We’re free with new identities, a shitload of money, our friends, and adventure ahead.”

Jamie brought her hands into her lap and looking straight into her eyes he shook his head sadly. Hesser plans to train me in espionage and counterterrorism. I refused and he laughed, telling me dead men don’t have a choice. Claire, there is a branch of the American government called Black Ops and Hesser is the chief. They answer to no one, not even the president. When he is ready they will come and get me for six months of training.

Claire sat up, "that’s ridiculous, he can’t force you to become a spy, or terrorist, whatever it is!”

Jamie held her hands to make her look at him and he shook his head looking like it was the end of the world.

“It’s not a matter of me, Sassenach, it’s a we”

“What are you saying? I will be abducted and forced to train in espionage, for Hesser?”

“He knows you are Casper, and I am the painter. He owns us and he is giddy with it. The worst part is no help or backup. If we die during the mission we have no identity within the CIA.

“That is why he saved you. So he can turn you into his personal super-spy and he can end your life anytime he wants just by turning your location over to the Europeans.”

“Hesser wouldn’t waste his time reporting me. He has no compunction about killing unnecessaries. His words.”

Claire was seeing the bigger picture and it terrified her. Hesser would become their puppet master and throw them into any horrible situation he wanted. It was unfathomable how cruel he was, it would be a life of torture, always looking over her shoulder, waiting for them to take her. She wanted to vomit and scream at the twist of fate that now promised a very short life for both of them.

“ I am going to lay down.”

Claire had pulled the bedspread off the bed and lay sleeping in her bikini. Jamie watched her with a crippling need for her love. It had been almost three months since they last made love and he fought with his painful erection every day until he felt strong enough to let it go with her. He could barely breathe because his heart was hammering in his chest. He could not stop himself from touching her.

Claire felt Jamie’s warmth press into her from behind. It was foreign to her and she felt her body react instantly. His arm came across her chest, strong and commanding, holding her in place and rolling onto his back, pulling her with him. He pulled at her bikini top savagely and she heard the straps rip as the garment was cast aside, leaving her breasts naked for his mauling hand. He pinched her nipple and she gasped before trying to get away from him. She wanted to control the activity and make sure he was safe from harm, but he wouldn’t release her nor did he speak. She felt the hair on her neck stand up when he panted into her ear.

He ran his hand down her stomach and into the lower part of her suit where he dropped his other hand and ripped it off of her. His mind was not his own anymore. He felt like a different person, out of control with need, barely able to have a coherent thought.

“Spread your legs, love,” he breathed into her ear.

“Jamie..”

“Spread them.”

His amazing fingers played with her bud and spread her lips open to the fingers of his other hand pushing into her.

“My God, your wet. Your body wants me and you’re powerless to stop me.”

He would not let up on her, even when she pleaded in her headlong rush to orgasm. She felt his strong wet fingers pull her chin to his lips kissing her into submission and his fingers were once again inside her body moving in and out in sync with his tongue. Claire moaned and her body was shaking when he stopped.

“Turn around Sassenach, I want to watch your eyes when you come. Straddle me, love, that’s it.”

She was out of her mind with this possessive lovemaking and watched Jamie quickly move through her knees and down on the mattress to hold her pelvis tightly and pull her down on his assaulting tongue. He could see her breasts bounce with her oncoming orgasm and the erotic scene nearly finished him. Claire moaned through her release and Jamie pulled her to him and held her while she pulsed and jerked. The second she opened her eyes, he took control again.

He flipped her to her back and ripped the buttons off of his shirt followed by his shorts. Claire was in a lust drunk haze and tried to rally with his fresh onslaught on her body.

“Tell me you love you me.”

“I love you, Jamie, more than anything.”

“Tell me you belong to me, tell me how you will make me come.”

“I belong to you Jamie and I want to feel you down my throat.”

Jamie rolled to his side and grabbed a fist full of hair, very close to her scalp so he could direct her head. “tongue out,” he panted and moved her tongue up and down the length of him before he shoved her face into his balls and watched her lick and suck until he almost lost his mind. She felt him lift her head to his cock and push her down on it, keeping her head clear of his view. He yanked her head away and held her away from him while he regained control.

“On your back.”

He pulled her legs straight up and held her ankles with one hand and watched his dick go in and out of her. Claire was moaning with a second orgasm building pressure and she begged him to let go so she could spread her legs and let him bang into her throbbing center.

He pulled her legs apart and pushed them wide. With each thrust he pressed into her and told her he loved her, he desired her, he would never leave her. Claire was mewing with every contact until he pushed into her deepest body and felt her orgasm start. Jamie just closed his eyes and felt her pulsing, her wetness, and heard her moan his name until it was over.

Two deep thrusts and he joined her in the erotic stratosphere where arms and legs disappear and existence is reduced to your core that pulses wtih euphoria.

Jamie grabbed his chest as he panted and dropped to her side, pulling her close.

“I’m sorry for being a brute, love.”

She tried to speak and gave up forming words that would fall tragically short. When she could speak again, she pulled Jamie’s head up from her shoulder and looked in his eyes.

“I will fight for you Jamie, no matter what Hesser throws at us I will never give you up. Please say you will never give up on me.”

“Never, ever, ever, will I give up on you, Claire.”

Jamie held Claire while she napped and his mind was racing for some way to out-think Hesser. He had them in a vise grip and cared not a lick for their lives. They were utterly disposable and when one was taken, the other would agonize until they returned. He wondered how long sanity would hold up under that torture.

Once Claire was deep in sleep, he made his way to the boat garage and placed a fresh canvas onto his makeshift easel. He didn’t make drawings or sketch the final picture but stabbed his brush into the earthy colors on his pallet mixing them lighter and darker, adding shadow colors and light ivory and peach, browns from light to dark and transferred the color to the canvas to rough out the forest where he played as a child with his three best friends, Ian, Angus, and Rupert. He painted the gorge, then changed it to the ravine they loved with a giant tree overhanging the edge and a long rope tied to its outstretched branch. He roughed in Rupert, clinging to the rope, smiling in the dappling sunshine. In his mind, he heard Rupert’s voice telling him he would always be on his side, no matter what.

Jamie threw his brush into turpentine and ran up the stairs to the bridge, where Darius was looking at his maps.

“I need to get to Jamaica right away, even if you push the engines beyond what is safe. I’m serious. I need to be there yesterday.”

Darius looked at him for a full minute, trying to think of any reason someone would risk the engines to cross the Atlantic so quickly. One thing he knew about Jamie was his intelligence, so he would know the risk.

“Done.”

“How long?”

“Seven days. Ish.”

“Thank you.”

As the days passed, Jamie painted, Darius used the autopilot and fished, Maia cooked and read her chapters for her online English course, and Claire touched base with the University and then sent her letter of resignation. It wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be. Rather, a minor event when compared to the horrific life she would endure in the days to come.

The weather turned warmer and humid two days out from Jamaica so Claire and Jamie slept on the sundeck, under the stars. If they didn’t make love when they first laid down Jamie would wake her with a warm hand and the race would start anew. It was exciting, and he would take her to the edge of acceptable passion and then push her into the erotic vortex. He had changed and both of them knew it. Making love slowly and softly was no longer on the menu but was replaced with something desperate, possessive, and domineering, yet wholly satisfying.

The last day of their journey, Jamie kissed Claire’s neck at breakfast and told her how lovely her hair was. He pulled on a shiny coil and it sprang back, making him chuckle.

Maia backhanded Darius’s upper arm and demanded he pay more attention to her. He rubbed his arm and scowled at her.

“I love you and you know that Maia, why the brutality?”

“You don’t love me enough, Darius!”

When he saw the tears start he jumped out of his chair and pulled her to him. Maia did not cry, not even at funerals, and here she was with wet cheeks. Claire felt sad for Maia and wondered what was happening.

“I love you Maia, with all my heart.”

“You love to fish.”

“I love you more than I love fishing.”

Maia looked up at him and smiled through her tears and then hugged him. And that was it. The spat was over and Maia was bouncing around the kitchen again. Claire squirmed in her seat, horrified at her sudden arousal, and ran to the bedroom.

“Jamie, can you get this splinter out of my hand?”

“Sassenach, come out to the deck, it’s easier to find in the sun.”

When she didn’t respond he followed her into their room and barely caught her when she jumped on him. He found her bossy lovemaking adorable until she pulled him into orbit and the slave became the ruler.

Later, Claire walked out to the foredeck and was stunned by the crystal clear water and marine life that was everywhere she looked. She grabbed the bridge phone and asked Darius how long to get to the island.

“One hour and I want a promise you will wait until we’re moored before you jump overboard. Claire?”

“Yes, yes, I will jump overboard, goodbye, and hurry.”

Jamie was dispatched to make sure his wife stayed on board and the two of them hung over the side of the yacht to watch for sea life. Jamie helped Darius with mooring the boat and the girls were overboard without a backward glance. Darius dug out the snorkels, flippers, and masks and threw them overboard before locking up the yacht and diving into the water. They all found a slice of heaven in the clear water and did not return to the boat until the sun was setting.

Jamie was exhausted and could hardly get the fork to his mouth for dinner. Darius told him to pace himself because they would here for as long as they wanted. Jamie laughed and said “too much fun” with his mouth full of peas. Claire found him asleep on their bed still in his trunks and she smiled at her prince, praying for some time before one of them was taken for training.

The following day they tendered to shore to look around and find some local fun. Jamie promised Claire he would catch up and took off to find a store and then a post service. He paid cash for the fastest service to Germany, then Scotland.

Three days later, Jenny received a package from a remailer in Germany. She pulled out a card and read the note as she struggled to the kitchen table to sit down.

Dear Mrs. Murray, Thank you for your order. Enjoy your new phone and see the operating instructions before plugging it in the first time.

She had not ordered a phone which was confusing, but she was stuck on the handwriting because it looked just like Jamie’s. That was impossible, and her eyes stung with fresh tears remembering him. She pulled out the folded instructions and on the inside he had written, “keep the phone on and with you at all times. JAMMF” Jenny stared at the letters and backed into the refrigerator before running upstairs to wake her husband and show him.

Ian rolled toward the tapping on his shoulder and smiled at his pregnant wife. He stared at the handwriting and the initials on the instructions. This was Jamie’s way of contacting them without phone taps finding him, or the cruelest joke in history. He pulled Jenny to his side and pulled the phone and cord out, plugging it in.

“We will keep it charged and on us at all times. Okay, Dove?”

Jenny reached for the ringing phone two nights later and immediately started to cry. She heard Jamie’s voice and thought she would choke from crying so hard. His calming voice helped her get over the shock that he was still alive. He asked her to wake Ian and turn on the speaker to which Ian replied “go ahead, Jamie.”

Jamie told them everything about Frank, Casper, his wife, and Hesser, the man in charge of Black Ops.

“Ian, will you find Rupert and tell him everything I’ve told you?”

“Of course Jamie, I’ll do it tomorrow. Why Rupert?”

“He’s a good friend and might have some pointers about dealing with Hesser, maybe he learned something in the special services.”

“Jamie, I feel so bad for you and Claire. I wish there was something we could do to help. Can ye get that tracking device out of yer arm?”

“I hope so, it’s something we’re working on.”

Jamie ended the call soon after and told them he would call another time. He never thought he would pit a friend against the likes of Hesser and hung his head in shame for having no other solution. It was never confirmed, but he knew things about Rupert and his time in the service. He prayed for forgiveness and his guilt raged for several days after.

Ian smiled at Rupert through the window as he walked up to the construction trailer. Rupert was the job manager for a new shopping center going up in Edinburgh. He launched out of his seat, shook hands with his old friend, and the two sat down to talk for a bit.

Ian knew there was a special bond between Jamie and Rupert because Jamie saved his life when they were eleven years old. Rupert, Angus, Ian, and Jamie were inseparable when they were kids, always looking for something fun to do with the long summer days. When it was hot, they would head into the forest to find the big tree that hung into the ravine, right over the rushing creek that cut through the woods. Jamie was first to swing into the center of the ravine and let go, falling ten feet into the water. Ian was next followed by Angus, but Rupert wanted nothing to do with it. It took all summer, but they finally talked him into it and he held the rope shaking from head to toe. He was quite sure he would fall to his death but none of his friends had, so he forced his bravery and jumped off the edge of the ravine. Unprepared for the stark terror of clinging to a rope over a drop that seemed one hundred feet down he refused to let go. Jamie got concerned and backed up to jump off the edge with enough speed to reach the rope. If he had missed, the momentum of his body would have dropped him into the rocks on the other side of the creek, so it was utterly heroic to an eleven-year-old.

Jamie caught the rope and told Rupert to hang onto to his waist, and then he dropped them into the water, pulling Rupert to the bank and going on about his bravery. Jamie was his hero after that, and Rupert made no attempt to hide that fact.

Ian looked Rupert in the eyes, remembering his break down at Jamie’s memorial, and decided to just blurt it out after swearing him to silence.

“Jamie’s alive Rupert, but he’s in trouble, so keep it secret please.” Ian told the story of Jamie being rescued and revived by a man named Hesser, a Black Ops CIA boss that threatened to turn him over to his captors or kill him outright if he didn’t follow orders. He covered Jamie’s marriage to none other than Casper, the art thief, the very person he gained his freedom to catch. Rupert seemed to be playing with something in his desk drawer while every word was seared into his brain. When Ian stopped talking, Rupert looked up, “Ye tell Jamie, I gotcha brother.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ll be prayin for im.” Then he slapped Ian on the back and walked him out to his truck.

One week later, the moonlight shined on the raised barrel of a sniper rifle with a twelve-inch silencer attached to its end. An eyeball looked through the night scope from over a mile away and twisted the calibration dial and focus. Rupert crouched on top of a water tower with a clear sight to the CIA parking lot and Hesser’s vehicle. He had been in this position for three nights, waiting for the man to show up. When he climbed the tower that night he was relieved to see Hesser’s car in the lot and waited for his five-second opportunity to remove him from Jamie’s life. When Hesser walked out of the building Rupert trained his rifle on the man’s head, exhaled, and took his shot.

To the CCTV cameras, it looked like Hesser bent down to unlock his car door when he was actually sprawled on the blacktop missing half of his head. He wasn’t noticed for an hour, giving Rupert time to break the rifle down into separate plastic bags that he would return to his comrade-in-arms. He still had to drive the pieces back to Maryland, then he would jump on a plane back to Scotland. The only emotion he felt was relief that Jamie and his wife were safe.

“James Fraser, get out of the water this instant!”

Jamie looked up at Claire on the foredeck, hands on hips, looking exasperated. He knew there was no use putting this off and swam to the aft deck, throwing his flippers up on the boat and hoisting his body up after them. He found Claire in their bathroom with a chair pushed into the vanity right under the sink. She pushed Jamie’s head back and started mixing the chemicals to turn his red hair blonde.

She looked down at him and smiled, making his stomach do flip-flops. “Don’t look so scared Jamie, it will look good, I promise.”

“I don’t care how it looks Sassenach, it is a bit late for this, isn’t it?”

“Not if we can find a doctor on the island willing to cut into my arm and remove the whateveritis.”

“Why not use me as the guinea pig?”

“Because you have been brutalized enough lately. It’s my turn.”

Jaime could smell the chemicals being squeezed onto his hair and ran his hand up Claire’s leg, making her squirm and laugh. He closed his eyes when he felt her hands spreading the mixture through his hair. He thought about Rupert and wondered if he had taken the initiative. So far the news had been devoid of any attack on the CIA chief, and each day was one day closer to men boarding their boat and taking one of them away. Jamie shivered at the thought.

“You have twenty minutes to wait. Do you want your book?”

“Hmm?”

Claire could see Jamie was already falling asleep, so she left him alone and got the chair ready on deck to cut his hair. When she rinsed out the hair color, she noticed it looked very light and wondered if she made a mistake. The sun dried his hair as she cut it and when it was combed into his new style, he almost took her breath away.

“Are you looking that way because blonde is not a good color on me, Sassenach?”

“Quite the contrary, actually.”

“Wow, you were good looking before, but now you’re drop-dead gorgeous! That’s an American saying I learned,” Maia giggled, “it means you look even better.”

“Thank you, Maia,” he chuckled.

The next day they all went ashore, Jamie and Claire had a doctor appointment to remove Claire’s tracking device and the others wanted to see a bit of Jamaica. Claire was getting uncomfortable with the women staring at Jamie. One stopped on the sidewalk and just watched them pass.

“Jesus Christ, haven’t these people seen blonde hair before?”

Jamie gave her a squeeze and kissed the top of her head. When they entered the medical facility, Claire was getting nervous. What if the doctor turned them over to the police? It wasn’t everyday people came in with trackers in their arm. At least she didn’t think so.

The Jamaican doctor nodded a few times and looked at Claire’s incision that had healed to a thin red line. He was a man of few words which sharpened the edge Claire was feeling.

“Lay here and I will try to find it.”

The doctor came back into the room with a medical device that used sonar technology to find foreign objects under the skin. He pressed a wand into Claire’s skin around the incision and listened with headphones as he calibrated the machine. He was getting concerned because the machine was blinded by another pulse, but that was impossible. He moved the wand to Claire’s leg, then feet, then her back before he removed the earphones and turned the machine off. His face did not look right to Claire, and she was ready to come undone.

“Please doctor, tell us something, I am getting terrified because I thought this would be an easy removal.”

The doctor sat on his stool and shook his head. “The chip in your arm might be identifiable like a GPS bouncing off a satellite. But it is using some kind of sonar technology to ping into your body. Until you discover what it is pinging to, you should not remove it.”

“What?”

“What do you think it’s pinging to doctor?”

“It’s only a guess, but it might be looking for a second object that was introduced into your body at the same time. It could be anywhere and small enough to inject.”

“That makes no sense, doctor.” Jamie could hear the almost hysterical pitch to her voice.

“I think I understand. Sonar technology is also on the chip and it pings looking for something, like a specific shape that they injected. If we have the chip removed the ping sends a warning that it can’t find the shape. That’s as far as I got. So what then?”

“If someone wanted to know your whereabouts enough to implant a super RFID chip they don’t want you removing it and getting away. Just a guess, but when it’s removed, it may lock in your coordinates and …”

“The sky is filled with helicopters looking for us.”

Claire looked quite pale all of a sudden, and Jamie pulled her close. The doctor picked up his equipment and headed toward the door. He looked at them both.

“A life of crime does not suit either of you. Why not do an honest day’s work? Handsome men get pictures in magazines, make lots of money, put a hex on my nurse so now she just waits at the clinic door!”

The doctor laughed and left before seeing Claire’s eyes roll. On the way out, she regarded the nurse with an I-dare-you-look and they left, more rattled than before. Back on the yacht, they filled the others in on what they learned.

“That is diabolical,” Darius shook his head.

“I don’t get it,” Maia looked wide-eyed at the group.

"It’s a sonar warning system in case they have the chips removed. They put something else in their bodies that the sonar looks for. If it can’t be found, because the chip is removed, it locks in their location and they flood the area with agents. It is pretty hard to hide a yacht of this size.”

“Just take the other thing out as well then.” Maia looked at the three of them like they were dumb.

“They have no idea where the object is. It wasn’t implanted with an incision, it was probably injected.”

Maia rubbed her temples like she had a headache. “I’m going for a swim before I start dinner.”

Maia left to jump overboard, Claire went to feed Adso, and the guys went to the bridge to think and bounce ideas. Five minutes later, Maia ran up the aft deck and saw Claire sitting in the saloon staring into space.

“I get it now! Oh my God! You look like you just lost your best friend, but I’m still here, so get your ass in the water. Claire?”

When she didn’t move Maia boldly walked into the saloon and stood next to Claire dripping water on the Persian rug. She pinched her suit and a fat drop of water squeezed out and rolled down her hip. She pointed at it rolling down her leg.

“Okay, okay, Maia, I just want to sulk for five minutes.”

“No!”

Claire jumped in the water followed by fins, masks, and snorkels that Maia threw overboard. She felt the usual excitement pulling her fins on and decided to worry later, diving deep to catch up with her friend.

Darius and Jamie were on the side deck watching the girls dive for shells. The contrast of moods was not lost on Jamie.

“How can they be so happy? All they do is hunt for pretty things, they could at least spear some fish for dinner.”

He and Darius both laughed at the absurdity of his statement.

“I need to speak freely, Jamie.” Darius looked out at the ocean and took a deep breath. “What if the second object does more than act as a warning when the chip is removed? You said Hesser placed no value on your life other than what you could do for him. What if the second object is programmed to kill you, like releasing a neurotoxin if the ping stops?”

Jamie had a pained expression on his face and gripped the railing, making the veins in his arms stick out. “Certainly something to consider. Thanks.” He slapped Darius on the shoulder and left the bridge to find sanctuary before he lost his mind. When the turpentine hit his nostrils his racing heart slowed down and the painter came out. He pulled a canvas out of hiding and set it on his easel. It was Darius, on the bridge, the morning of their wedding. He stood looking out at the water with the glorious purple, orange, and magenta of the sunrise seen through the windows. Jamie was intrigued by his face. A wide smile flanked by deep grooves, solid jaw, and floppy hair, but his eyes shined with intelligence and calm confidence. His shirt was open and the instruments were reflected off the flat planes of his chest and stomach. Jamie’s expert use of color contoured his face like a photograph, and he stood back to look at the finished painting. He lettered “The Captain” in a lower corner and left to clean up for dinner.

Climbing the steps to the saloon was a shock when the rays of sunrise stung his eyes. He could hardly remember the hours of night going by, but the image of Claire looking at the picture and kissing him goodnight finally surfaced. He was filled with gratitude for such an extraordinary partner.

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dinrelsanddragons · 4 years ago

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A drabble I wrote in early December. Takes place prior to Twilight Princess.

In her little dress, Noel carefully peered around the corner, hoping no one would see her. In truth, several people saw her, but not the two she meant to avoid, for they were quite distracted with each other.

Mama. Papa.

It had been a while since they had talked. Vair hadn't come home for a week now, choosing instead to sleep in the barracks with the other knights. Shanzira couldn't fathom why he would do this– she hadn't done anything, not a thing in years, that would drive him away from her. After first realizing her attractions to him, she'd attentively noted his dislikes so as to avoid them.

"Vair?"

Even as she approached, on those ginger tiptoes that pointed inward with anxiety, she feared this wasn't going to go well. "Vair, please talk to me. What's wrong?" In his years of experience at his post, Vair knew how to ignore distractions and focus on his job. Never before, however, had that distraction been so personal– his wife, the mother of his daughter, his beloved. On the verge of tears, at that. He didn't know what to say, and it was only the thought of his duty that kept his expression straight.

Shanzira gave him a few seconds for good measure. She wondered if he needed a moment to compose what to say to the wife he had been avoiding. But that seemed not to be the case; he seemed intent on shunning her as if they'd never met. "What did I do, Vair? What's going on? Noel misses you." Not returning to the arms of his wife meant not seeing his daughter. His eyes flicked to a corner, around which he could just see a tinge of red hair– oh, goddesses, the girl had followed her mother here. In truth, Vair didn't know what to do. Avoiding Shanzira had been the simplest solution to his problem, but a temporary one, apparently.

He wondered how 'temporary' this marriage was to be.

His wife was under investigation. They had met on the field of battle years ago, Vair saving Shanzira from the horde of monsters and gifting her his halberd for her own protection. But there were absolutely no records of her existence prior to that. None of residence, none of birth, not even gossip about a red-haired, round-eared woman. Anywhere.

He had wondered how this had not been apparent before. How it was that this literal nobody had been able to create an existence for herself, a comfortable life in a crucial position– married to one of the king's guards. She had never spoken of her past, but focused solely on the present. Never of the future, though. Vair had been the one to bring it up, when he had proposed to her. He had never once thought to look the other way...

She had crafted the perfect position for a spy. That was the king's fear. Vair was the perfect conduit to receive information about the royalty from. He was careful never to repeat any sensitive information he accidentally overheard, and he thought he had vetted Shanzira for any sign of a volatile temperament.

In truth, he couldn't imagine her to be anything but who she said she was, who he had seen her be. An artist, a wife, a mother, a storyteller...

"Vair, can't you even look at me?" Her voice shivered with grief from what felt like some distance away as he was in his thoughts, despite there not being so much as a foot of distance between them. A small hand rose up as if to touch his face, but pulled back quickly, as Shanzira feared what his boundaries on the job might be. "Please stop this. Please come home. Talk to me again. Spend time with your daughter, let her see her playmate again."

Zelda. Goddesses, the princess and Vair's daughter got along like two peas in a pod. Shanzira would recite stories to them and the children would listen attentively, mesmerized by every word. Those stories were laced with information only the royals could have known, was what the king told Vair. Shanzira knew such facets and details that it was as if she had personally lived through those events... Vair had had to choose where his loyalties truly lay, and they were with the king. But it was a painful choice to make, and every night he had lost hours of sleep thinking, wondering: Had he been right? Should he have protested further the king's decision? To do so would have been to risk his livelihood... but now he risked his heart.

Out of the corner of his eye, Vair witnessed tears snaking down his wife's face. He had only that brief moment of warning before she turned around and began to sob, unable to stand looking at his face anymore. She tugged her hood over her face and exited, walking briskly to the point that the now-apparent Noel had to run to keep up.

From behind the door Vair guarded, he faintly heard something. If he had to take a guess, it was a deep sigh... from none other than the king himself.

He felt a twinge in his chest. Even the king had his regrets. Perhaps, then, he would be willing to listen to reason, assuming the investigation bore no fruit that would incriminate Shanzira. Perhaps traces of an idyllic past could be brought up, but from what Vair had been able to tell, there was simply nothing to find. As if she had sprung into existence on the day they'd met.

A cry rent him from his thoughts. A child's wail, filled with pain. His child's wail. "Paaapaaaa! Want Papaaaa! Mama, pleeeeeease!"

He closed his eyes, gently as he could when he was so aggrieved. Tears streamed down. Would that his uniform had the luxury of a hood like his wife had, that he could have hidden them...

PART 2

For over a week, Shanzira had been unable to bring herself to put pen to parchment. Inspiring as emotions could be– even the negative– there was nothing artistic about what she felt. She could not continue to write her stories– she had no motivation when she had only Noel to tell them to– and she had thrown out every charcoal sketch she had thus far made. There was nothing to do regarding her work but place her head to her desk and try not to cry. If she hadn't had Noel to look after, she might have gone mad. Something about being responsible for another person kept her sanity in check.

As the little one napped in a chamber adjacent to Shanzira's study, she heard a click. The distinct sound of a doorknob turning. Shanzira twisted around in her chair, wondering who it could be. Perhaps someone had arrived with divorce papers. She prayed not. Or she was under arrest. Or something worse yet... As the door began to open, Shanzira leapt to her feet with a hand on the hilt of her dagger, ever prepared to defend herself. Her thoughts went to the halberd displayed on the wall, with a twinge of pain– the same halberd her husband had given her so long ago.

The door swung wide, and Shanzira dropped her arm by her side in shock. How could she have seen this coming, a visit from the king himself? Trembling in fear and anticipating the worst, she hurried to a kneel– praying that a show in sincerity and loyalty would mitigate whatever punishment lay in store for her.

She betrayed a single glance back up, and noted her husband behind him. What was this? What could it be?

"Rise, Lady Shanzira. I would speak with you."

It called back to her youth, of being summoned to authority figures to be scolded and punished. When being in trouble was the worst imaginable fate. Regardless, Shanzira stood back up, unsteady at first but regaining her balance quickly enough. Averting her eyes, she didn't see the king's expression. Nor did she really know his face that well. She had no indication apart from tone of voice of what his intent might be.

"You have presented quite the quandary of late, a quandary that we should have seen long ago. You are the spouse to a royal guard, and on occasion a caretaker of Princess Zelda. Yet there is no information on you prior to five years ago. Your history cannot be tracked by any means imaginable, though prior to now it has not been a problem. Thus you have eluded any kind of investigation... until your role as my daughter's storyteller began."

With that final sentence, a revelation hit Shanzira like a blow from her husband's claymore.

The dazed look on her face must have betrayed her thoughts, as the king cleared his throat before continuing. "Your tales began as fanciful and clearly works of a creative imagination, though at the apparent request of your daughter turned more historical. So historical, in fact, that they hit the nail on the head. They could not be more accurate. Or detailed. Such information has been privy only to members of the royal family until you appeared. You have paid few visits to the royal library, and you could not possibly know the location of the secret library. This was why I ordered my agents to look into your past. I do not like unanswerable questions."

"They have found nothing. There are no records of you, or anyone like you, existing anywhere. Even one so close to you as your own husband and daughter have no inkling of where you came from. My final recourse is to turn directly to you. So, you will tell me... and we will be here as long as it takes to hear the truth out of you."

A silence followed.

Where to begin. Shanzira thought briefly of Noel, still asleep in her crib, and wondered if she might wake before she finished telling her tale. A tale she had no choice but to share, at this point. She chanced a look to Vair's face, over the king's shoulder, and noted a regretful expression, his eyes cast down and to the side and his brows tented.

"I don't know if you'll believe the truth." She wanted to be clear with that. "I hail from a very strange and technologically advanced world, with no magic or monsters. There is but one intelligent species of life. In this world, the world of Hyrule is known but considered entirely fiction. Stories are told from the viewpoint of the hero, of his struggles against evil. They span many different eras and ages. They are stories that I followed intently.

"I didn't know what to think when I awoke on a battlefield, surrounded by monsters. If Vair hadn't been there that day, I would have died without a clue. I did my best to blend in to my environment and say nothing about this bizarre place I came from, or I'd be written off as a madwoman. I was extremely lucky in that the same man who defended me from monsters also found me a place to live and gainful employment. Not to mention, we ended up falling in love and having a kid. I suppose I couldn't have it all for long, though."

Her eyes drifted downward at the last sentence. She didn't believe it likely, even now, that the king would believe her. And Vair, his regretful expression? It could have meant anything.

"So you do not know how you came to be here." The king scratched his chin thoughtfully. Shanzira had definitely explained the cause of her knowledge, but her presence was a mystery. "Very well."

Eh? Shanz risked a glance at his face, but failed to read his expression in the brief time she saw it. "I am not satisfied, but for now, it will be enough. I understand this investigation has caused your husband and you much grief. I will allow you to resume watching over my daughter... if you know Hyrule as if it were a book, then perhaps your knowledge may come in useful."

"Your Majesty," Vair piped up, "does this mean–?"

"Yes, Sir Vair. You may return to the arms of your loving wife."

Oof!

Shanzira almost fell over from the force with which Vair collided into her, one of his arms wrapped tightly around her upper back and the other resting atop her head. Shanz could barely breathe with her face trapped in her husband's chest. She pushed against him just enough to look at his face, and saw radiant joy upon his features, to the point of tears glistening in his eyes.

"I'm never doing that to you again. Never."

Shanz still needed a moment to process it all, but for now... it was welcome to have Vair back.

"He ordered me not to say a word," he explained at the quizzical look on Shanz's face. "He tried to hide the whole thing from me... but I could see you were being watched."

"Indeed." The king almost chuckled, or perhaps scoffed. "He was beside himself when he came to me with his little discovery. I have work to return to."

"Of course, Sire." Vair didn't so much as turn his head to the king, but kept his eyes focused on Shanzira. Silence followed but for the king's footsteps as he exited, and once those faded from earshot, Vair released Shanzira. "I'm so sorry."

She wasn't a hundred percent sure she had forgiven him yet, but... he'd been between a rock and a hard place. If nothing else, Shanz could forget. She raised a hand to rub out the tension between her eyebrows. "I'm still upset over it, but I at least understand. And you might like to know that Noel is asleep right now..."

Vair blinked. "What... does that have to do with this?"

"I will tell you," Shanzira answered lowly. "It has to do with the fact that you're coming with me to the bedroom. And we're going to be there for a bit while you pay me back for over a week of loneliness..."

#Out of Claymores

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virozero · 6 years ago

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I lost my last brain cell at work yesterday and attempted to regain sanity via sketches

I only proceeded to create a gremlin Dante and lost what little sanity I had left

Behold

#dante sparda #dmc #dmc 5 #devil trigger #sin devil trigger #devil may cry 5 #dante #real bastard hours

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royalblurryfacedbastard · 7 years ago

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Practice Kissing (Larry Johnson x reader)

(I’m trying something new! This was originally a self-insert so my name might show up but if it does pls tell me so I can change it!)

“Uhh... Larry?” I called out to my friend who was sprawled out on the other side of his bed. He was sketching something in a smaller block of paper as Sanity’s Fall played on a low volume on his stereo since his mom was home. “Yeah?” He replied, ripping his eyes from the drawing in front of him and looking at me. “Could you teach me how to kiss?” I asked, feeling a bit embarrassed for asking. “W-what?” He blurted out in surprise, sitting up straight in his bed. “Yeah, well... I have this crush—“ I started, but Larry cut me off. “Who?” He asked and I felt my cheeks heat up. “That’s a secret, dummy. But anyway, I uh... I need to practice kissing because I have a feeling I might have a chance on this one so it’s best to practice with a good friend so I won’t disappoint him later, right?” I said and chuckled nervously. Larry had this weird mix of confusion and something like rage in his eyes. “Wouldn’t it be better if you practiced with him? I mean, if he’s not a dickhead he won’t mind if you’re bad at kissing.” Larry mumbled and looked away from me. “Larry, have you ever had sex or anything like that?” I asked and he made a strange expression at my question. “Pfft, yeah, of course! I’ve done all kinds of stuff with girls and other people. Lots of times.” He said and I wasn’t sure if I believed him. He was sounding like a 12 year old who had never seen anyone naked their whole life trying to brag. “Oh. Well, uhm... then you’re experienced, right? So you could teach me things. I really don’t want to disappoint my crush.” I mumbled. “I mean, if you don’t want to—“ I started but Larry cut me off by quickly moving closer to me and speaking. “I want to! Or I mean, uh—“ he blurted out and instantly regretted it, moving away slightly; trying to regain his cool. “...I could teach you stuff, yeah. If you want that.” He said and I noticed a faint blush starting to form on his face. “Oh, okay. Thanks. So... could you teach me how to properly kiss someone then?” I asked and he nodded determinedly. “Just, uh. Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you and see how you do.” He said and I obeyed, closing my eyes and parting my lips slightly. I waited for what felt like ages and was just about to open my eyes and ask him what was wrong when he practically slammed his lips against mine, causing me to let out a gasp. His lips moved a bit out of rhythm against mine and I started doing the same thing, getting into it fast and hoping I wasn’t screwing anything up. I placed my hands on Larry’s chest and he was quick to grab my waist and pull me closer, humming into the kiss. My lips felt electric and ticklish pressed up against his and it felt like something more than just kissing was bound to happen if we didn’t stop, so after a while I pulled away. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes again was Larry’s face; his lips still slightly parted from our kiss and his eyes half-closed. His cheeks were a deep red and I’m sure mine were just as red when he looked at me and sighed a quiet “fuck...”, his voice shaking.

We sat in silence and looked at each other for a while before I realized I had to ask him if I was good. “Was I—“ I started, getting cut off by him once more. “You were fucking incredible, (y/n).” He said and I couldn’t help but smile at his words. “I’m, uh— I’m sure your crush will think you’re a great kisser.” He said shortly after, trying to hide the sadness in his voice. Suddenly he stood up and walked over to his coat hanger, grabbing his hoodie and jacket off it and putting them on. “I’m gonna go out for a smoke, alright? I’ll be right back. Just... stay here or whatever.” He said and he was sounding even more sad now. Tell him (y/n)! my mind yelled at me. There weren’t any doubts about how Larry felt about me now, but I still hesitated. I didn’t want to ruin things.

After thinking and cursing at myself silently for a while, I finally decided to go out and talk to Larry. I didn’t have a jacket nearby so I just hoped it wouldn’t be that cold out and headed outside.

Larry was sitting right by the door, smoking a cigarette. He seemed to be deep in thought but snapped out of it when I mumbled a quiet hello and asked if I could sit next to him. “Sure, whatever,” he muttered and I took a seat next to him on the ground. It was colder than I had hoped and I couldn’t stop a shiver from moving through my body. Larry seemed to have noticed this, because right after I stopped shivering he took his jacket off and put it over my shoulders. I wrapped myself in the thick jacket and inhaled, taking in the scent of it. Cigarette smoke and something sweeter, maybe strawberries. A calming scent. “Hey, Larry.” I said, lighting my own cigarette. He grunted in response, urging me to keep talking. “You and my crush have a lot in common, yknow. He likes metal and art too and he has long hair and these gorgeous brown eyes...” I said, catching myself trail off a little. “And he’s a great kisser, too. Incredible, even.” I said and smiled. Larry looked at me for the first time since I joined him outside. “Didn’t you say you hadn’t kissed the guy?” He asked and I laughed. “What?” He asked, his voice sounding slightly angry. “You really don’t get it, do you?” I said between giggles, unable to keep myself from not laughing. “Get what?” He asked and this time he raised his voice more. “How many long-haired metalheads who are into art are there in this town, Larry?” I asked, hoping he’d finally get what I was trying to say. “I dunno... one?” He said and then he fell completely silent. “...wait.” He mumbled and his eyes started to widen. “Is your crush... me?” He asked finally and I nodded, the grin on my lips bigger than ever. “No way...” he said quietly and looked away from me, eyes wide and a big grin on his open mouth. He looked so cute in that moment I couldn’t help but grab his face in my hands and kiss him, careful not to burn him with my cigarette. He instinctively pulled me closer to him again and I could feel him smiling against my lips. Who would’ve thought that practicing kissing with your crush could make your heart so happy?

#my writing #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #self insert #reader insert #reader insert fanfic #sally face #sally face larry #larry face!#sf larry #larry johnson

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just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms · 7 years ago

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Sanity is Relative Chapter 9

Catch up on the series here!

Characters: Darby, Ema, Sam, and Dean

Word Count: 2000

Written by @uttertrash--butlikecutetrash and @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms

Chapter Nine

Darby

It was dark. So dark I couldn’t even see my own hands in front of my face. But there was humming. It was quiet at first as I stumbled forward trying to find it. I knew the song… Dear Prudence… I tried to hum along as I walked forward but the blackness began to seep into my lungs. It was a stinging cold as it took over my chest. The humming got louder and I knew who was humming…

“Daddy?” I choke out.

The dark was consuming me, I felt it all over. Inside and out. In my lungs, my throat, every inch of my skin. It was pushing its way into my nostrils now and my eyes were stinging. I fell to my knees and tried to breathe but I couldn’t… the humming stopped and I heard him.

“D.G. my little princess…” my father’s voice sang in my ear. I swung my arms wildly trying to find him. Suddenly the darkness in me shifted and ripped through my insides. I doubled over in excruciating pain. I clawed at my neck, desperate for air that wasn’t thick and black and stinging. My father laughed in my ear but it wasn’t his laugh. It was evil, menacing. “Let it take you, Darby. Let the darkness win. Feed the monster…”

I sat up in bed gasping and clawing at my neck. Cold sweat covered my body as I struggled to regain my breath. My heart slammed against my ribs as I steadied myself. It was only a dream. Only a dream….

Then I looked down and what I saw made my blood run cold. On my lap was my opened sketch pad. The page had a drawing of me clutching my throat, black smoke forcing its way into my mouth and nostrils. The smoke though, it was in the shape of a body with white, menacing eyes. Above the picture were the words FEED THE MONSTER…

Shaking I held up my hand. My fingertips smudged with graphite.

….How did I draw this in my sleep?

——

I sat quietly in the common room, studying the picture. It gave me a cold, empty feeling looking at it. A chill so severe I felt it in my bones. It was like depression on steroids. I felt like a dried up husk.The more I looked at the art, the emptier I felt. I tried to look away but I couldn’t. I’d been staring at it all day. I was so immersed in it that I didn’t even notice when Sam and Ema came and sat by me.

“Whatcha got there?” Ema’s sweet voice chimed, but still I gazed at the drawing. “Hello, Darby, earth to Darby. Come in Darby.”

I looked up at her and blinked slowly, “Sorry, I’m out of it. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Ema’s face went from a wide grin to absolute concern. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, “Just bad dreams.”

“‘Bout what?” Dean’s gruff voice asked from behind me. I waited until he sat down before I slid my sketch pad in the center of the table.

“That.” I said, my finger pointing into the scribbled swirling blackness. Sam and Dean’s eyes went wide. Both leaning forward to get a better look as I went on explaining, “It was dark and cold. It consumed me. It had my father’s voice…”

“Your father’s voice?” Ema asked, grabbing the pad and bringing it to her. The moment her hand touched the paper she went pale. Her mouth became a hard, thin line.

“You okay Em?” Sam asked.

Ema nodded before she turned back to me, “What do you mean it had your father’s voice?”

I sighed and ran my hand over my face dreading the explanation. A chill crept down my spine but still I spoke, “It sounded like my father. Hummed his favorite song. Called me by the nickname only he ever called me. It sounded just like him but…. It was so cold. So empty. It told me to let the darkness in. To feed the monster. Whatever that means.” My body involuntarily shuttered. “I can still feel it in me.”

“And you drew this when you woke up?” Sam asked.

I shook my head, “I drew it in my sleep.”

“Bullshit.” Dean scoffed.

“I swear….”

Ema leaned in close to Sam and whispered in his ear. He nodded and then grabbed the drawing.

“Can I keep this?” Sam asked. I gave him a shrug as he tore the page from the book.

“Wait,” I raise an eyebrow, “this isn’t for some weird hunting ghost mumbo jumbo or whatever, is it?”

A weak smile spread across Sam’s face, “Nope. Not at all.”

I let out a small chuckle, “You are a bad liar, Winchester.” Sam let out a laugh and nodded.

Ema touched my hand and I suddenly wasn’t so cold anymore. “Why don’t you go take a nap? You look exhausted.” I was. I felt like I could barely keep my eyes open. “Dean, why don’t you walk Darby to her room?”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, “Darby can walk herself to her room.” Ema shot him a look. He rolled his eyes and stood, “Fine, fine… Come on Darby.”

We left the room and walked silently together down the halls.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked. Dean shook his head but still said nothing. I chewed on my lower lip. “Is it because of what I said the other day?” He simply shrugged. Grabbing his bicep with one hand and gently placing my head on his shoulder I continued, “I’m sorry if I offended you. I’ve never had any real friends so I’m very bad with interacting with other humans.”

Finally he let out a laugh, “No shit.”

“Plus,” I sighed as I gripped his arm a bit tighter, enjoying the way his muscles felt under my fingers, “I’m my own brand of crazy so take everything I say with a grain of salt. After all, I’ve tried to kill myself a couple of times.”

“Six.” He corrected, “Six times in ten years. Gotta be a record.”

I laughed a little at my own expense. “Finished reading my file I see.”

Dean glanced down at me as he spoke, “It’s a very thick file.”

“That’s what she said.” We said in unison. We looked at each other and laughed. We kept chuckling about the terrible joke right until we made it to my room. I reluctantly let go of Dean’s arm and headed towards the door.

“We good?” I asked.

His tongue darted out over his bottom lip before he let out a sigh, “We’re good.”

------

Ema

“Ema! Ema!” Sam hissed as he jogged after me. The color in my face wasn’t coming back, and all I wanted was to lay down in my bed. “Ema! Tell me what’s going on!”

“The darkness!” I whirled around. “The Shadow Man, he’s in Darby’s head.” Now it was Sam’s turn to have the color drain from his face. “I don’t know how, but it’s him. He’s there. I felt him when I touched her drawing. Suddenly I was a kid again and he was telling me to run.”

“Let’s get you in bed.” Sam put his arm up for me to hold onto, and we walked in silence to my room. My mind was racing, trying to figure out how he found Darby. Had I somehow lead him to her? Did I bring him to such a vulnerable woman? Oh god...has he been following me all this time? How many other people did he torture!

Sam stopped and turned, each of his hands resting on my shoulder. “You okay?” I just blinked at him, slowly coming out of my head. “Your hand was shaking and your grip got really tight.” Sam’s eyes searched mine. It was like he was trying to see inside my brain to figure out what was troubling me. “What is going on up there?”

I hadn’t realized just how upset all of this made me, and my knees gave out. Sam caught me, bringing me up so he could wrap me in his arms. I don’t even know why exactly I was crying. Was I concerned? Of course. Did I feel terrible that I might of caused all of this? Not a doubt in my mind. But the biggest thing I was feeling was a deep sadness I had never let myself feel before.

I left them. I left them to the Shadow Man and they died. I’d never even looked into it more as I got older to know how it happened. I left my parents, my sister, my two brothers. All of them in the Shadow Man’s hands. But when I touched that picture, the Shadow Man was much darker than I remembered. When I met him he wasn’t warm or kind. He was insistent and pushy. But now, when I felt him, he was dark and violently angry. I couldn’t imagine what that would do to a person. Let alone my family.

Sam finally felt my body starting to go limp and fatigue. Scooping me into his arms, he carried me to my room, and laid me gently in bed. By that point I was a curled up, sobbing ball. “Ema, you need to talk to me.” Sam rubbed my back and sat next to me. “I know it’s got to be bad, and horrible. But you need to tell me.” Between sobs I told him everything. His face slowly fell as I told him about Darby’s drawing. “Ema, you can’t put this on yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. If he is going after Darby, then we will fix it. Dean and I are the right people for this, and using your energy abilities we can find where he is. But for right now, we can’t tell Darby. If she tries to fight him or shut him out, he might attack her.”

“But...but what if he’s the reason she’s hurting herself? What if I brought that to her?”

Sam wasn’t sure what to say. His sad eyes pushed into my energy, and I could feel his concern and determination to fix all of this. “Em, she was sick and troubled long before you met her. And if it has been the darkness this whole time, that’s his problem. Not yours.”

“What if she hurts herself again!”

Sam gave me a stern nod, and set his jaw. “Then we keep her safe, fight and kill the douche, and we hope to god that she’s able to fully turn around. We can help her Em. Part of that means though that we have to do it without her knowing.”

“What about Dean? Should we tell him?” Sam thought for awhile, and slowly nodded. “He needs to know. He’s attached to her. It’s only fair that he knows what to watch for so that if anything goes wrong, he can be ready to handle it until we get there to help.”

Sam ran his hand over the side of my face, pushing my hair back. Hesitantly he leaned forward, kissing my forehead. “Get some rest. You need it. Tomorrow we can work on Dean. But right now, you need rest.”

Curling up under my blanket and into my pillow, I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself. But as Sam got up, it only made things worse. He was calming, and healing. “Can you...can you stay? Please? Just until I fall asleep. You calm me.” I gave him a sheepish smile, and when he sat back down I buried my face into my pillow. I had an entire new set of problems now. As much as Sam calmed my body, he still made my heart race.

Sanity Tags

@growingupgeek @emoryhemsworth @love-kittykat21 @oneshoeshort @supernatural-fangirl13 @wayward-ella @bunnybaby121115 @kazkingdom @winchesterprincessbride

#sanity is relative fic #semi supernatural fic #ofc supernatural

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fieryfafarfanfics · 7 years ago

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Haunted Desire

“He still doesn’t want to eat?” A frown curled the corners of her lips. “No.” Arms crossed against her chest, Evelyn looked at her husband. “When I kept asking him if he wanted anything for breakfast, he just faintly mumbled Hana’s name.” Harun only nipped the insides of his lower lip. “But Hana has school.” Standing beside his plump wife, dark brown eyes observed the silent child in the kitchen. “And to be honest, I thought that bringing him into our home would at least help the kid from crying so much back in the adoption center.” Left shoulder leaned against the wall, he released another sigh. “Turns out it’s not working, huh?” “At least he’s not screaming anymore.” Pink lips twitching a weak smile at the faint ray of hope, she too let out a woeful sigh. “Jun said that he’s not possessed by any Jahanams anymore, but that doesn’t stop the poor boy from remembering all that trauma he’s gone through.” “If we leave him out of our sights any more than a minute,” Strong arms flinched against his chest, “I’m just afraid he might actually conjure a Jahanam himself.” Even with a gentle swat on the left arm, Harun only flashed a bitter smile.

Before Evelyn could rebut his blatant statement, the sound of the doorbell caught their attention. “Must be Jun.” Pushing herself off the wall, the plump woman gave one last pitiful look at the broken boy. “Maybe we can ask Jun and Ariff if they have any other ideas to help him.” “Good idea.” Before she left to get the door, Harun sneaked a kiss to the top of her head. Finally, after such a gloomy atmosphere in the morning, the tall man felt his heart bloom to see such a sweet smile on her face. But alas, once his gaze returned to the boy, that tiny garden in his heart withered in worry. --- He wondered why he was alive. His stomach had growled and trembled for the fifth time today. The food in front of him was placed deliciously on the table, yet Imran didn’t have the will nor desire to consume even the slightest. Cold hands remained limp on scarred thighs. Slim fingers twitched and flinched at every sudden memory. His heart felt weak. His breathing felt weaker. The bags under his eyes became puffier each day. The veins in his eyeballs became more vivid and disgusting. Pale mouth was pressed to a single line. The obvious cracks on his lips gained a cringe from the boy every time cool air swiped across them. He needed her. He needed to see her. He needed to be with her. The whole night being left alone felt like hell on earth. He couldn’t sleep a wink. He couldn’t breathe properly. Screams and cries of the night before tore his throat until he couldn’t utter a single word. Even a tiny drop of saliva that slid down felt like fire scorching his throat. All he could manage right now was emptily staring at the food as if it was a pile of black glob. All he could manage right now was the chant of her name in his mind. He needed her. He needed to be by her side. He needed to hold her hand to know she existed. He couldn’t do this. Broken, yellow teeth chattered weakly as he lowered his head. He couldn’t do this, his heart wailed. Widened eyes burned as no tears were present. Dark pupils shrunk horribly as he stared at nothing. Hazy gaze focused on the scars and bruises on the back of his hands. Some were already faint and dark. Some were still wet and fresh. Dull, broken nails shakily dug deep into his thighs. He then saw blood stuck inside the nail of his right thumb. Breathing started to become raspy. Chapped lips finally spread apart until blood dripped from the corners. -elp- He didn’t want to be alive. He—H-Help-! He didn’t want to continue this torture. Fingers curled tightly until nails once again pierced deep into bloody palms, Imran slowly, roughly bit the insides of his torn mouth. NO—! “I’m heeeere!” His world stopped spinning. --- “Here you go Auntie Evelyn!” Bouncing by the balls of her feet, Hana gave the plastic container to the lady. “Mak made lots of chicken curry and I’m soooo fuuulll!” Whining like the child that she was, Hana wrapped her stomach with small, chubby arms and shook left and right. Evelyn only laughed cheerfully at the little girl’s bubbly personality. “Thank you, sweetie.” Hazel eyes then focused to the woman beside the child. “And thanks a lot, Jun.” Hands holding the container, she lifted it slightly and nodded her head. “I’m sure Harun would love these.” “I know he would.” Her lips returning her smile, Junaidah peeked at the kitchen. “How’s the boy?” To hear the question, Evelyn could feel her smile wither immediately. “Well…” Right hand holding the container, she nervously rubbed her arm with her left hand. “He didn’t scream last night, so you can call that improvement.” Even so, a sigh slipped out pink lips. “I wish I can say about the rest.” Her frown matched Junaidah’s that was slowly forming. “What do you mean?” Concern etched her question. Though glad that her child was happily looking at them with curious, confused eyes, Junaidah flinched slightly to the Nur mark on the back of her neck throbbing so numbly. Upon seeing such a cautious gaze on the Pendekar, Evelyn quickly waved her left hand. “H-He’s not being possessed if that’s what you think!” Panic widened a pair of hazel eyes. Blonde hair whipping lightly from the quick shake of her head, the Penjaga nervously continued, “It’s just…he hasn’t eaten at all in the past few days. And although he drank some water yesterday, he’s not drinking now and I’m just afraid this might affect his health.” Evelyn was at least thankful to feel Junaidah calming down. “I see…” Right fingers no longer twitching, Junaidah huffed a heavy sigh. “I’m glad, but I guess that’s still a prob-” CRASH! “HEY KID—WAIT!!” Both ladies and the little girl jumped from the startling sounds. Three sets of eyes stared at the kitchen, only to then gawk in shock at the sight of the frail, skinny boy. “W-What…?” Junaidah gaped like a fool. “Im—Imran?” Evelyn slid backwards in bafflement. “Imran!” Only Hana reacted with much positive bliss. “There you are!” Her left hand, which had been clutching her mother’s long skirt for the past few minutes, was immediately released after seeing the boy. “Imran, my mak brought you food!” Neither caring about her life nor safety, the little girl quickly approached the boy with quick steps. To see her daughter running towards the lifeless boy sent a terrifying chill down Junaidah’s spine. “Hana WAIT!” Voice cracked a pitch, in a blink she instantly summoned her Nur weapon. A brilliant shine of pure white was formed in her right hand, and not a second later, a beaming parang shined viciously in her grasp. Upon hearing her mother’s scream, Hana stopped immediately. Her body almost stumbled forward from the abrupt halt, the little girl then turned to her mother with a frown on her face. “Mak, what’s-?” “KID STOP-!” Innocently deep brown eyes widened to see such horror sketched on her mother’s face. “HA-ANA!!” Screams now echoed inside the house, her ears then caught the sound of rapid, approaching footsteps. Her heartbeat drumming violently inside her small chest, Hana quickly spun her heel to the direction of the footsteps. Plop! A short scream popped out of the little girl’s mouth once she felt something pounced on her. Everything happened too fast. Before Imran was inches away from Hana, Harun was already a single step away from pulling the boy back. Before the sudden impact, Evelyn had already fused with the mythical parang. Before her scream was heard, Junaidah had raised her weapon and rocketed madly at her precious daughter. Thankfully, before the Pendekar Nur could slice the poor boy’s head in half, she instead froze right in front of the two children. Her daughter wasn’t harmed. No scars were seen. No bruises appeared. She wasn’t screaming in pain. Hell, she wasn’t screaming at all. Instead, it was now replaced with silent bafflement from any of them. Two adults stood as they watched the boy shiver horribly, terribly, magnificently whilst having a stunned little girl in his frail, littler arms. “—a…n-na…” The word was merely a dying, brittle whimper that even wind alone could drown it out. “…n…a…” Again the voice – his voice – croaked weakly on her shoulder. “Ha-Ha-a-a…na—” A hiccup was heard next, along with a cough that sounded too thick to be normal. Junaidah only stood in blank stupor, hands now lowered limply until her weapon burst back to white light. Evelyn formed back to her physical figure, brown eyes just as wide and frozen at the sight before them. Three grown adults were at lost. Heavily cautious and alert at all times, but lost in bewilderment at the sudden event. Only Hana regained reality fast, deep brown eyes blinking innocently before she glanced at the shivering mess against her. His voice was too faint, too broken. Tears formed her eyes to hear her name being slurred so painfully. So thickly. Pink lips parted open, but words were void as Hana then heard louder, clearer sobs that now stained her clothed shoulder. Don’t go… That word echoed loudly in his mind. Don’t—Please d—on’t…go… Dark eyes were wide, too wide. Tears were thick on each heavy socket. Pale cheeks finally brought a hint of colour. Dry lips finally felt wet at the drip of endless tears. His trembling still occurred from head to toe. He felt cold, too cold, and the little girl in his arms was warmth he so desperately needed— He felt something wrapped around him. For once, he didn’t flinch nor feel the need to struggle. “Hi Imran…” Her voice. Her voice was all he needed to regain sanity back to this earth. Finally his voice was heard. Finally a wail cracked the intense atmosphere in the room. His body still shivered. His muscles still strained and twisted. Blood now dripped slightly from the corner of his lips, but pain was now irrelevant from his consciousness once he felt her gentle embrace. For once, he felt warm. Again and again he cried, head now buried in her shoulder. Again and again Hana returned his tears, small hands giving countless pats to the boy’s horribly bruised back. Junaidah, Evelyn, and Harun only watched the emotional unfold around them. Words were absent. Only stupefied stares and exchanged glances became their form of communication. After what felt like hours, the Pendekar Nur released a heavy sigh. Upon feeling her concern, Evelyn looked to her direction. Their eyes met along with their tiny frowns. Even without words, they knew, this chance of fate between the kids would evidently change their lives forever. The sound of the boy’s crying ironically brought comfort to Evelyn and Harun, but they both ruefully knew that they needed to do something to prevent him from festering any evil quintessence from within. And as sounds of Hana’s tiny sobs echoed along, all three of them knew – oh Junaidah bitterly, bitterly knew – if they weren’t careful, this would mean the end of both the children’s lives. END

#OCS #hana #imran #dont mind me just writing some ocs #i got inspired after finishing a malay novel #huehuheuheue SUFFER #oneshot

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tophatsnap · 8 years ago

Text

Blackness

Hi guys. This one’s a little overdue because I’ve had some stuff going on. The prompt is below. Hope you like it, Anon!

“It would take place right after the final lair, where Madame Giry confronts Erik, trying to get him to safety from the mob. Erik, of course, doesn’t cooperate.” -Anon

Erik turned away. Why had he forced himself to watch? To see Christine disappear around the corner with the boy? The sight was too much. It was painful and yet he hadn’t been able to look away. But then of course, he’d always possessed that self-destructive streak. He’d always been prone to wounding himself far worse than the world ever could. Perhaps he’d done it for a reason. Perhaps he’d watched so the image would be seared in his memory, so that it would be real.

No. He’d watched because he wanted to. He’d watched because he loved her and he knew that it was the last time he’d ever see her.

That was it. That was all.

But it was over. He inhaled shakily, almost collapsing in defeat where he stood. He walked up the faux-riverbank and sat at his desk, head in his hands. He could hear the mob approaching. No doubt they would be here soon. It hardly mattered though. He was afraid, yes… who wouldn’t be? But it wasn’t a matter of fear. There was simply nothing left to live for. At least they would finish the job. At least it would be quick. Well… relatively quick. Faster than an spending the rest of his days; an eternity without her.

He looked up, haphazardly wiping his tears as his gaze met with Christine once more. She was everywhere; paintings, sketches. He couldn’t escape her. Though, soon he would be able to. Soon, it would be over.

Erik stood once more and walked back to the edge of the lake. They sounded closer now. It wouldn’t be long…

“Erik!” A harsh call came from behind him.

Erik frowned. Surely he hadn’t sunk that far into the depths of insanity. Not yet, anyway.

“Erik!” It called again. He spun around.

Madame Giry?

It was coming from one of the many mirrors decorating the far wall of his home; mirrors that were of course not just mirrors. Some were doorways. Erik walked closer to the source of the sound and listened, his head inclined slightly in the direction of the one that revealed a passageway to the grand foyer.

“Are you there? If you are, answer me this instant!” Yes. It was Madame Giry, alright.

“You should not have come Antoinette. It is about to become very dangerous.”

“Erik, you open this door this instant!” She yelled, her voice muffled by the glass. “We haven’t much time!”

“No, we haven’t.” He answered.

“Open the door!”

“It isn’t a door.”

“Erik..” She warned.

“Madame, please.” He began, his voice curt. “I do not wish to make things worse for anyone. I have done enough damage tonight. I have hurt enough people. I do not wish to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.” She said.

That wasn’t what he meant.

He couldn’t have her with him when the mob arrived. Lord only knew what they were capable of.

“Just go. I cannot…”

Cannot have you here before they come…

“I cannot…”

Have you here reminding me that I am a human with feelings before they dehumanize me and take from me all that you have helped build.

“I…”

I am holding onto my sanity by a mere thread and if you hold me I shall fall apart.

“Just open the door, Erik.” Antoinette spoke. Her voice quite soft in spite of the situation.

Erik shook his head in defeat. This was supposed to be simple. Christine leaves, he leaves. Simple.

He leant against the mirrored surface before him and sighed deeply, his breath tracing an abstract pattern on the glass as he exhaled.

So, I am still alive.

He thought bitterly.

He bent down and unlatched the mirror, it slid to the side almost seamlessly and at last he was greeted with the voice on the other side.

Nothing could have prepared him for the fierce embrace he received as Antoinette stepped over the threshold and into his home. It near knocked him over.

“Madame, please.” He spoke, not returning the favour.

“You must get yourself out of here, Erik!” She said, pulling away and looking up at him.

“Why.” He said simply, pulling away from her grasp and walking back toward the lake.

“Why?” She repeated. “Erik, if you wish to end your life because Christine has left it, then be my guest… but not like this!”

“What do you care?” He spat. “I do not care about my life. Why should you?”

“Because I am the one who gave it to you! Or had you forgotten that?”

At this, Erik stood upright. He spun around and marched up to the small woman who had spoken.

“Do not think that I owe you something because of what you did for me!”

“Well, if you do not value your life, why did I bother?” She spat, tears in her eyes.

Erik took a step backward, almost staggering in disbelief at her words.

“H-how could you say that?” He spoke. “You saw what I had to go through… the things I had to…”

“How could you do this!?” She interjected, pushing him roughly. He staggered backward again. “Are you truly this selfish? To think that your actions affect no one but yourself? You may live your life that way but locking yourself away does not make you exempt from the responsibilities of friendship, Erik!”

“Madame, I have no will to live! Can you not understand that?!” He cried, on the verge of tears now. “It is selfish of you to ask of me something that I no longer have the strength to continue with!”

“And do you truly think that you have the strength for this, for what is about to happen?”

Erik gazed out over the lake. They were very close now.

“They won’t just end it, you know!” She shot, an attempt at regaining his attention. His gaze shifted back to her and he stepped closer.

“And what if I deserve this? Did you ever think about that? A monstrous end to a monstrous man!”

Voices sounded in the tunnels.

He smirked.

His absolution was now mere moments away.

“You aren’t monstrous, Erik.” Antoinette argued. She was crying now. “You and I both know that there is good in you! There always has been!”

He looked back at the tunnels for a moment, his clenched fists at his sides, before turning back to her and speaking decidedly.

“Yes.” He nodded. “And here is what is left of it.”

Before she could speak, he had whisked her up, carried her back to the mirror through which she had entered and thrown her into the dark passageway beyond.

“Erik, what… what are you doing!?”

“I trust you know your way back.” He said.

“Erik, please! Don’t do this! You do not have to do this!” She tried pushing past him. She tried pulling him inside with her, but he was too strong.

He had made up his mind.

“My path was decided for me a long time ago, Madame.” He spoke sadly.

A yell sounded from him. They had arrived.

“It is time. You must go…” He said.

“Erik…”

“Au revoir, Antoinette.”

Her mouth opened in protestation, but before any words could escape her lips, the mirror had slid back over the opening. The passageway was once more sealed. That was it. She had failed.

She was left in blackness, and so was he.

#poto #tpoto #phantom of the opera #fanfic #phanfic #phanty prompts #phanty asks #erik #christine daae #madame giry #gaston leroux #andrew lloyd webber #2004 phantom #tophatsnap

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