#but it was impossible to make his stupid leaf hands into little knife fingers so just like use your imagination i guess

[spookley-daily]

So, you guys excited for the Magnus Protocol?

[charincharge]

“Hold on you have leaves in your hair.” for rowaelin please

rowaelin high school bff au:  past-take masterlist 

AN: Set ~5.5 years before the first chapter of IDWTW~ Enjoy these adorable 11 yos being dummies, always.

As Aelin looked around the middle school Halloween parade, she couldn’t help but shrink back. She’d worked for weeks on her costume, crafting the perfect three-tiered cake out of cardboard. She’d decorated it with hot pink crepe paper, and even constructed a crown out of candles. She had been so incredibly proud of herself as she’d looked at the pink sugary confection she’d created for herself. She’d worn a light pink leotard and leggings to match the color of the paper she’d wrapped around the boxes and left the house smiling confidently.

But as a group of heavily made up prom queens, cheerleaders, and pop stars walked by, Aelin couldn’t help but feel like a bit of a baby. No one had told her that sixth grade was the year girls started dressing up in more mature costumes. She couldn’t help but think that if her mom had been around, she’d be one of the girly girls with a face full of makeup, baring her midriff, too, instead of the babyish contraption that had the seventh and eighth graders smirking down their nose at her.

Leaning against the side of a parked car a safe distance away from the parade festivities, she tore open her packet of M&Ms and plopped another one into her mouth as she watched the older girls walk by.

“Whatcha doing all the way over here?” a friendly voice asked, coming to stand next to her

Aelin frowned at her best friend. He fit right in with all the other boys in his striped shirt, eye patch and drawn on beard. He nudged her pink converse with the toe of his boot, but Aelin shook him off and ate another piece of candy. She was so distraught that she didn’t even complain when Rowan reached in and grabbed an m&m for himself.

“You okay?” he asked, poking at her costume with the long sword of his pirate’s costume. Aelin simply shrugged. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling.

“I hate my costume,” she mumbled under her breath.

“What?” Rowan asked, raising a blonde brow. She hated when he did that. It went too far up his forehead and made him look like a cartoon character.

She reached out and pushed his brow back down, making him laugh softly.

“I should have been something else,” Aelin sighed wistfully.

Rowan furrowed his brow. “But you worked so hard on it.”

“I look stupid!” Aelin snapped, turning away from him. Boys! They just didn’t understand things.

Rowan placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her back around, his lips pursed into a serious frown.

“You do not look stupid,” he said. “I would never let you look stupid.” He paused, his one visible green eye squinting as the thought hard about something. “Do you want my sword?”

Aelin gasped. It was the truest sign of friendship for Rowan to offer it to her. He’d been excited about his sword for weeks, even making Aelin watch YouTube tutorials on sword fighting form with him, so he could have a real fight.

“No.” She shook her head quickly. “I couldn’t take that.”

Rowan grinned, “Come on.” He held it out to her, and she accepted it tentatively. His grin widened impossibly. “Now you’re a cake with a serving knife,” he laughed. “Will you cut me a piece?” he asked. “You look delicious.”

He put his hands over hers and feigned cutting a slice out of her costume and leaned in and snapped his teeth at her, as if he were taking a bite. “Rowan!” she laughed, shoving him away.

They stood in amiable silence, finishing the package of M&Ms between the two of them until Aelin finally had to say something.

“I feel guilty I took your sword,” she finally admitted.

“A good pirate always has more than one weapon,” Rowan laughed loudly, leaning into his boot and pulling out a small plastic knife. “On guard!”

Aelin squealed as Rowan parried towards her, his newly revealed weapon jabbing from side to side as she ran in a circle around the car from him.

“KIDS!” a loud voice called from the parade. “No playing in the parking lot!”

Aelin and Rowan smiled guiltily as they made their way back to the main driveway, which had been blocked off for the Halloween parade.

“Better?” Rowan asked as he slung his arm around her shoulders, and Aelin nodded. She leaned against his shoulder as a wide smile appeared on her lips. She was so grateful to the boy next to her, she couldn’t even fully process it. He’d seen that she was upset, sought her out, and immediately fixed it. Because that’s what Rowan did. He made her feel better. Always.

She glanced over at him and was surprised to see he was already looking her way with a strange expression on his face.

“What?” she asked, suddenly feeling nervous again. But suddenly nervous about Rowan. That was weird. It unsettled her.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. He moved his hand to her hair and pinched at a strand, pulling something out. “You had a leaf in your hair.”

“Oh.”

She watched as he slowly pulled the brown crinkled leaf from her golden strands, rubbing it between his fingers until it disintegrated and fell to the ground.

Aelin’s stomach fluttered with some new feeling as he looked at her and smiled again. “Now you’re perfect.”

She felt her heart beat a little faster as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders again, squeezing her to his side as close as he could with her cardboard costume between them, and Aelin leaned into his warmth. She looked up at his smiling face and attempted to relax, but she just couldn’t anymore.

Oh. She thought to herself as they walked side by side back to the parade.

Oh no.

It was official. Aelin most definitely had a crush on her best friend.  

~*~

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[the-last-cuddlebender]

Moonpeach Blossoms

Aang is a ~little shit~. Aang is also late.

Katara wants her damn hug.

****************************************

A/N: Aang is a wholesome, sassy little shit, and he gives me some very strong Thomas O’Malley Cat vibes. (speedwrite challenge--under an hour)

Rating: G (H for hugs)

Words: 1,335

ArchiveOfOurOwn 

****************************************

The ground is pink and blanketed by a fluffy sea of moonpeach blossoms. Katara’s pacing carves through it like a knife. 

Aang was supposed to be gone for only a few days.

It had been nearly two weeks.

Katara, again, spins on her heel to stride across her little trough of exposed grass. The green and pink contrast would have been pleasant if she wasn’t in such a sour mood. 

Her skin crawls like a caged tigerdillo’s. She hugs herself a bit tighter, and her eyes keep to the cloudy sky. 

She would have been after him in a heartbeat if he hadn’t taken Appa.

Katara pulls out Aang’s letter and reads it again even though the words were seared in her mind the second she received it. 

He said he would be home today. 

He promised. 

Aang never broke a promise. 

“Stupid Avatar, stupid Zuko, stupid dragon—” 

Katara nearly growls. She’s grateful that instinct has her folding up Aang’s letter when the heat in her face wants to tear it to shreds. She straightens out a crease before tucking it into the inner pocket of her dress.  

“‘It’s just a little search and rescue, sweetie.’ ‘I’ll be home in a few days, sweetie.’ ‘You can’t come because we don’t know what the Masters will think of a waterbender, sweetie.’”

Katara throws her hands up. She storms to the little bench, the one Aang had terraformed for them, under their blooming moonpeach trees. 

She grumbles at the wind when it blows by like a glancing kiss. She often talked to it when Aang wasn’t around. He was its last bender, and he and his frustratingly playful element had become synonymous in her mind. 

“Go away. I’m mad at you.” 

The wind doesn’t go. If anything, it blows harder. Moonpeach blossoms swirl around her like a small hurricane before the wind frolics away.

Katara plops her chin in her hand and bounces her leg. She blows a pink petal and stray hair from her face. 

...She’s grumbling a curse that would have impressed even Toph when the wind returns with Aang’s laugh. 

Katara freezes, stunned by the relief crawling up every nerve. Warmth blossoms in her somersaulting belly, filling some empty part of her and spilling over like water from an upturned leaf. 

More moonpeach blossoms rain down on her. 

Katara looks up.

Aang’s smirk reaches his eyes when she finally finds him, not even an arm’s-length above her. He was laying on his branch like a leopard on a warm day, lounging with his face on his fist like he hadn’t been gone for longer than he ever should be (or ever would be again—that Katara would make sure). He lazily shook the branch beside him to sprinkle her with more moonpeach blossoms. He tried singing, but he was smiling so wide that all he could do was hum and try to keep from laughing too hard, especially when Katara puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms. 

Katara couldn’t hide her blush, and it makes him laugh all the more. 

Aang gives her a calculating look and a nod, approving of the glaze of moonpeach blossoms on his fiancé. His little laugh and half-lidded eyes are satisfied to the brim. 

Then, in a few quick moves like he was part lemur, Aang hangs upside down from his perch to kiss her forehead and grumpy cheeks. 

“Hi, sweetie~” 

His gentle voice is smug and warm—familiar and home—and it turns Katara’s insides to ooze. He kisses her nose and curls her hair behind her ears. Katara puffs her cheeks and purses her lips and tries to look angry even though it only makes his smile wider. 

He’s crouching on the arm of the bench before she realizes it. The tree branch faintly shudders, and now they’re both covered in moonpeach blossoms. 

He talks some more. Or maybe he was humming? Katara can’t quite tell. She was reading the thousands of ‘I love you’s and ‘I missed you’s that jumped around in his eyes like polarbeardog pups eager to see her. They wrap around her and tug into a cozy waltz the part of her heart that he had made his own. 

...Katara glances away twice but is drawn back to him by an unseen force that she only half-hates. She kisses his cheek, and Aang—the brat—swoons and falls back on the ground in a display that would have the Ember Island Players taking notes. Moonpeach blossoms gush up and gently fall like splashed water. 

Aang peeks open one eye, his hand clutched over his apparently wounded heart, and grins at her. 

Katara is not amused. 

He smiles even wider. 

He sits next to her on the bench as he chases away the last of his laughs. His hand finds hers, and the tension flees Katara’s shoulders like he had just cut the strings that held her together. He kisses her hand like it was the most valuable thing in the world. 

Katara scowls. He was making it increasingly difficult for her to be mad at him.

Aang wraps an arm around her and scoots closer to her just as he tugs her closer to him. Katara was already curling her arms around his torso—almost laying on him in the process—and letting her head find its home under his chin. 

He doesn’t smell like dried blood or the sorry excuses for soap he normally used to wash out bloodstains (in the hopes that she won’t notice and worry). He’s not favoring any limb, and there wasn’t any hiccup in the airbending-grace of his movements, but the pads of her fingers find a welt on his two bottom ribs that is large and angry enough to be felt even through his robes. 

Katara scowls and holds him tighter. Aang kisses her head and pulls her closer. 

Aang leans against the tree’s trunk. He doesn’t stop humming. The sound is a dull rumble against Katara’s ear that digs under her skin and compels her muscles into complacency like his voice was a siren’s song. She gladly drowns herself in him. 

The wind kisses her face again; Katara sighs and welcomes it. 

“I missed you.” 

Katara didn’t know how Aang heard her, but he huffed a small laugh that bounced warmly against her and had her smiling despite herself.

He kissed her temple and spoke into her hair. “If you think missing me is hard, you should try missing you.” 

As he speaks, Aang’s hand slips under hers. He pulls it away from examining the injury on his side, and he cradles it close. 

Katara threads their fingers on instinct even though his tactic draws a frustrated sound out of her. 

“...You and I are going to have a talk about that.” 

“A talk?” Aang gasped excitedly. “Is the Mighty Katara asking little ol’ me on a date?” 

“Oh, you—You know exactly what I—”

Aang was already littering her face with smirking apology kisses, taking her down from the inside out. A giggle escaped her, and Katara didn’t know if she wanted to smack or kiss him when he laughed and pulled her flush against him. She rolled her eyes even as he plopped his chin on her head. 

She grumbled. “...You just—You just hush up and stay still so I can enjoy this. I’ll nag you later.”

“I look forward to it.” He cuddled impossibly closer, and he settled them like he didn’t intend for them to move for a long while. 

“I love you.”

He said it like he was sharing a part of his soul with her, and Katara melted to slush in his arms. 

“I love you, too.”

Aang hummed some more and petted her hair. The wind stirred the moonpeach blossoms, and the tender petals touched any part of them that they couldn’t hold.

Katara had always appreciated the feeling of returning home. 

She loves the feeling of home returning to her even more.

****************************************

The sweeties will sweet until all the sweet has been sweeted.

(speedwrite challenge)

[san-station]

A Quiet Place AU / ATEEZ (Post-apocalyptic)

Chapter 7

 ↝Word count: 5336 

Description: In a world full of silence and dangerous creatures seeking for blood, a group of friends have to survive for their own good and find the safe place they’ve heard about months ago.

Pairing: OC x San

WARNING: cursing, mention of death, angst, ANGST, AAAANGST. 

A/N: This took me forever because even though I’m on college vacations, work makes my head empty… and I’m not proud of it ;(. Hopefully, chapter 8 will turn out better! 

・・・・・・・・

Kids playing to be adults

When the basement door opened, I had a sad smile on my face and I was clinging to Hongjoong’s arm as he whispered the story about our time in the woods and how we found out about Wonderland, the promising land that expected us on the other side of our road. We’d been walking for weeks in the vast woods, hiding ourselves from the recent attack we had from a unknown group of rebels that wanted our food, clothes and, if we were lucky, they’ll leave us alone, but that day was one of the worst. The group leader, a guy who name I think was “Coups” refused to let us go without having some fun, and by fun I mean taking Misuk, Byol, or me, the only girls around, into hell. When he took Byol away from us, she struggled with the guy’s grip and managed to escape, but, unfortunately, Coups happened to be faster, agile and also evil. A blink later, Byol had a sharp knife nailed on the side of her neck and her eyes went backwards, full white. Coups had a hand over her mouth to quiet the noises she’d make. Blood started to flow quickly outside her body, splashing Coups face with its burgundy color and warm steam. The other group had now more members than us, thus my friends were being hold on by the rebels, incapable of saving her or any of us. 

When Coups rested the lifeless body on the wet mod carefully and gestured to reach for Misuk, the tan boy, Lucas, wrestled in a rebels arms and tossed him on the ground with a thump noise, everybody tensed and Lucas started to signed with trembling hands. 

“Stop! Don’t hurt anyone else, please…”, Lucas’ face was shocked, he was one of the strongest of us, he would always take care of his friends and, when the apocalypse started, he was devastated that he couldn’t safe his family, forthemore, he decided to protect his new family, us. The air in his lungs traveled as fast as it got there, sweat started to roll down his forehead and his eyes looked between Byol’s body, the leader, Misuk and me.  

“I can’t take an offer if I’m not winning anything in exchange”, Coups approached and capture Misuk’s wrist, she didn’t flinch at all, keeping a straight face. 

“Take me instead! I- I’m strong, I can carry things!”, Lucas tried again, stepping forward cautiously with hands in the air. The rebels looked at their leader waiting for his commands. Coups glanced at the tan boy from head to toe.

Like a flash, Coups took out of his back a .48 gun fully loaded and pointed it to the tall boy’s direction, he whispered: “Do you know how to use this?”

Lucas nodded hastily as he stood before us, blocking Coups’ sight. That was the day last day we saw Lucas, tears streamed down almost everyone’s eyes as we parted ways due to his sacrifice. I never got the chance to thank him nor say goodbye, they just vanished quickly and left us wandering around. 

Days later, we found a place near a river guarded by a couple of old ladies and a young boy called Jeongin. They took us for the night while we rested in a warm place with a roof. It had been a while since we had a roof over our heads when we slept. That night, Jeongin told us a story about a group of ladies that passed by days before talking about a new safe place, they called it “Wonderland” as if it was made for those who still believed in a world where noise fills your ears with joy, laughter, real voices and isolated you from fear and danger, that was our basement for us, we could talk freely after a few arrangements and for the past six months we were truly happy. 

Although, nothing lasts forever and food was running out, we started to racionate water and medicine. When Hongjoong noticed that, we had a discussion one night while everyone was eating. He made us all promise to get safe to the place where our hopes could finally be tangible, where food lasted and had variety, where we could love, laugh, stop worrying about the creatures around ready to slaughter our weak and tired bodies.

Hongjoong closed the door behind him and the room fell silent; Yeosang, San and Wooyoung gathered in the kitchen while they whispered with concerned eyes something I couldn't catch. There was no sight of the rest, so I decided to ignore them as I believed they would have the same behavior as Hongjoong before our talk. 

Joong walked next to them and they exchanged a strange glance. The air felt heavy, their bodies were alert at any moves I could make and you could cut the tension with a knife if you wanted. San cleared his throat when I walked next to them looking for the kettle and the leafs for the tea, I rolled my eyes when Yeosang avoided my eyes.

“I hope he’s doing fine”, I broke the awkward silence in the room and the guys jerked up in surprise. I missed Lucas, he was a living party in this hell, easy-going, gentle, a good friend. We will always remember how he exchanged his life for ours. 

"Ehm…", Hongjoong thought for a minute asking himself why would I said that before comprehend the idea. "I'm pretty sure he's fine, Lucas is a strong man and knows how to take care of himself", I handle him the kettle and opened a jar of jam almost empty to spread some on my right finger.

A few breaths later and shared glances, Wooyoung mumbled "she needs to know" a little bit too loud to let me understand the words. San sighed as Yeosang shook his head in denial. I turned to face them with pursed lips and raised an eyebrow as my body reflected hot steam from my upset mind.

“Quit the fucking act and tell me what’s wrong”, I sighed desperate. Having them staring at every movement I made was making me go insane, I was treated like their prey in the isolated clearing part of the forest, easy to hunt. The black haired boy flinched and turned his head to the other side. Wooyoung gulped and closed his eyes for a second. He then stepped closer and places his hands on my shoulders.

“What?”, my eyebrows knitted, San scratches the back of his neck, Yeosang sat on the couch pissed of, Hongjoong put the kettle down and looked at the basement door for something to happen.  

“We were supposed to wait until we all went down the basement again, but I know you’ll be hella mad at them for this…”, suddenly, Wooyoung made me sit on the couch next to Yeosang and took a deep breath. The tickling sensation in the middle of my chest started to emerge from the bottom of my body, confusion was all written on my face as Hongjoong and San approached a few steps near us. 

And like a bullet colliding unexpectedly into my flesh, Hongjoong spoke slowly painfully. 

“Jongho went to the abandoned city like an hour ago…”

Hold your horses… 

“What…?”, I barely said, the air in my lungs left entirely as my eyes pierced Honjoong’s pupils severely. Wooyoung moved uncomfortably on his spot, avoiding my eyes. “...Why?”, I spoke again with knitted eyebrows and dry lips. 

“The little brat wanted to keep the search. A week has passed….”, San’s voice sounded like an echo now. Why would they let him go? Why would they allow the younger boy go straight to his own death? I… I don’t understand shit. 

“Yeah, a week of a non-existing Jongho... I barely sensed him”, Wooyoung added playing with his hands, maybe he didn’t really know where to put them or it was just anxiety. 

“You all know why he wanted to go there…”, I left out a sigh. Leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, I hid my face in my hands at the same time my skin began to warm. “I can’t believe you agreed to this.”

“You were the first one saying to let him go,” Yeosang finally spoke since we came back to the basement, his face unreadiably. “You said we needed to let him be himself and not to hold him in here after Misuk’s death, Jiyeong”, he spatted a little too harsh gaining stearns from Hongjoong and San. Wooyoung just wanted to avoid all of this knowing too well the end of the conversation.

“I never thought he will really go out there!”, exasperation started to boil inside me, and it was noticing due the tone of my voice. “It could take him a whole day before even found the place that happened! You just let him go to his own death!”, I groaned and stood up of the couch, hands sweating and heart pumping insanely into my ears. 

“He’s well aware of that, he won’t do anything stupid!” Wooyoung tried to eased the heavy air surrounding the place, he really tried, yet we knew it was going to be impossible with the characters discussing. 

“And if he does, he’ll end up like Misuk and a trillion of other people, that’s the course of life”, Yeosang was on his two feet now in the other side of the room serving himself a glass of water. My lips trembled as I was barely containing myself from the rage, he always had that facility to say things without affecting him, he seemed so nonchalant about death, about love, about fun, about every fucking thing in this life…I cleared my throat and rather watch the others’ faces than his. 

“Who’s with him? Yunho? Hwa?”, I asked fisting my hands. Did Seonghwa accept to go along Jongho and show him the place where we bury her? Was he ready to do that?

“Mingi”, San replied after a long sigh and I looked him back with panic written all over my face.

“What the fuck?!”

“He insisted”, he explained scratching the back of his neck. Wooyoung whispered something to Yeosang and Hongjoong tapped his food nervously on the floor. 

“Do you realize their chances are low, right? They need protection, our protection”, a faint of sore throat started to appear when my voice came out stronger than I thought. I felt like the mother of naughty children running after them and scolding them one by one. 

“They’ll be fine, Ji, they’re adults. Stop worrying”, the black haired boy responded one more time, almost like a mumble. 

“Fuck you, San, I can’t just...  back off from this! Jongho is going to Misuk’s death spot and all he’s gonna find is nothing but dust. We-”

The basement door opened suddenly making me jump from surprise. All five heads turned to that direction just to find Yunho and Seonghwa carrying some firewood and water. 

“We started the fire on the watchtower so the others around would be more careful”, Seonghwa stated and Hongjoong patted his shoulder. Yunho joined us by sitting on the couch with a tired face. 

I frowned hearing that new, every time silence engulfed the basement, my heart beats became louder and faster to a point that made me dizzy. 

“You were saying…” Hongjoong muttered gesturing me to keep talking. I blinked a few times and licked my lips. Seonghwa looked at me with a frowned, I just ignored it. 

“We moved what was left of her body…”, I sighed and watched a specific black spot on the ground, not knowing what type of faces the guys would make to that information. “We buried her in a better place, somewhere to be missed and honoured.” My hands found their place into my jean pockets and I closed my eyes, maybe I could calm my heart taking deep breaths. 

So I did.  

“Where’s that?”, that question… that fucking question that I didn’t want to answer. 

“Near Lee’s Valley…”, Seonghwa spoke after he realized I wasn’t going to say it out loud. 

“You carried a dead body to Lee’s Valley without us?! Are you fucking crazy?!” Wooyoung’s calming presence just left the chat and we welcomed the angry and enraged Woo. 

“Nothing happened”, simply as that, Hongjoong had a concerned look on his face, San nibbled the skin of his left thumb while Seonghwa looked at me with sad eyes, Yeosang pressed his lips together showing angry eyes and Yunho intertwined his own hands with his elbows on his knees.  

“Don’t you ever go there again, Jiyeong. You know what they did with that boy, the freckles boy” Wooyoung warned. 

“Yongbok?” San asked with a quick look to his friend. 

“He’s alive” Hongjoong assured. 

“Cause he’s a Lee” Yunho added cooling the air. 

 “Yunho, shut up, please” Hongjoong shook his head. 

“It’s the truth, you only survive if you’re related” Yunho defended the statement and nodded. Then, he rested his back on the couch. 

“Jongho and Mingi would never find her without our help, I can’t believe you ruined everything we’ve been working this months just to let a potential prey be killed”, my nostrils let out the heavy breathes I was taking to stop me from bursting into tears, even if I wasn’t yelling, the hardness of my voice almost scared me, I wasn’t aware of how the different scenarios lived today could change my mood so sudden. San noticed the shift of my emotions and frowned.   

“He wants to pay respect to his dead girlfriend”, he mentioned taking one step in front of me. 

I needed to rest, I needed to go back to my glowing fantasy and be happy, no worries, no headaches.  Why are my eyes hurting so much? Why are they throbbing? Everything was burning.   

“When the hell did they start dating?”, I muttered becoming exhausted about that. 

“You’ll realized more about things if you weren’t so oblivious” Yeosang’s words came out bluntly, his sharp features judging every second I spoke.

“I’m concerned about the things that matter the most and you know it's surviving.”

“Well, maybe some people think that if we’re surviving, maybe we could start from zero with someone else”, he replied again leaning on the kitchen short countertop.

“Did you hear yourself right now? Did you guys heard that?”, my feet stepped closer to Yeosang, he hide a little smirk and my blood boiled. What is he trying to play? We finally decided to make peace and he’s ruining the whole fucking thing.

“We all need love, Jiyeong, even the girl obsessed with aliens knew it”, now it was San’s words that startled me.

I froze in the middle of the living room, a few steps near Yeosang, a few steps near San. 

Silence.

Everything fell silent after that and it felt awfully wrong. Why is this happening right now? Couldn’t he just wait until all of us joined him on the road? This situations complicated the whole plan, this brought the worst of all of us together. We were tense, we were worrying too much about the boys. Well, I was. We talked about leaving to Wonderland that day, why did Jongho and Mingi have to go when they knew the plan. Why was everything so difficult?

Interpersonal relationships should improve in a world full of disaster, fear and few quality of life options. People should trust each other, give everything for the other knowing that any time could become the last time... no, there is no way to think about anything other than survival, there is ... no… 

Hongjoong's eyes were switched between Yeosang and me, he wanted to prevent any other fight that was about to happen. Yeosang had the singularity of saying things very direct, without shame, without caring about others’ feelings as long as he didn’t feel affected or destroyed inside. Although, the truth could be quite the opposite and perhaps only sought attention to his own loneliness. However, my approach to the extreme of some situations was due to how fragile I used to be. Human beings can develop new masks to problems to avoid showing vulnerability, and there we were, trying to avoid buried feelings to emerge victoriously from an argument which end will always be brutal for everyone.

“I’m going out”, I said firmly. San’s hand found his way once again to my wrist. No, there is no fucking way to… no… Why does his hand feels like that…?

“You can’t! That’s why Hongjoong went to look out for you… after they left, Wooyoung heard some noises outside…”, Yunho spoke rational this time. His panicked voice made me stop on my way. Or was it they way San was looking at me with begging eyes? No, it definitely wasn’t… Shit.

“I don’t fucking care, they are in great danger and it’s your fault, so let me fix this…”

“No”, San stated this time. His gripped tighten a little more, without hurting.

“I need to fix this, please…”, that came out almost like a whimper. Seonghwa walked next to me and squeezed my arms while his big and deep blue eyes looked at me with determination. 

 “Until we can assure there's no more danger, no one gets out, clear?” he ordered calmly but certain that I’d respect the decision. 

“You can’t tell me what to do”, I yanked from his and San’s grip, finally free but not stepping aside. 

“You’re acting like a kid”, Yeosang whispered and rolled his eyes. That’s it, that’s my mark… 

“I’m acting like a kid? You are the one who rathers talk about relationships when it’s the end of the fucking world and our main priority is Wonderland!”, I turned abruptly to him almost hitting his face with the braids of my hair. Yeosang flinched but didn’t step back.

“We’ve survived for almost 500 days since the attack and people live their lives as if nothing happened, maybe we should do the same instead of pursuing a place we heard months ago”, the tip of his feet touched mine, I scoffed.

“You know what? Shit happened! Our families died, our friends died! We are so lucky to be alive right now and you just let our friends go to their death wish!”, my voice trembled at the end, getting weak at the sensation of tears forming in my eyes. 

“Both of you, calm down” Hongjoong muttered watching carefully our movements. I lowered my head, not wanting to face Yeosang’s stearn.

“I just want to fix this, I can’t let them die like I did with Misuk…”, I whispered fisting my hands and feeling the lump in my throat. I felt guilty already, this situation was also my fault. If Misuk hadn’t died that day, Jongho and Mingi would be home safe and sound with us.

“Jiyeong… you know it’s not your fault, we talked about this”, Wooyoung reassured smoothly, probably everyone was looking at me with sadness and concerned… I hated it. I wanted them to say it was indeed my fault, I really wanted to hear from them that my actions had consequences, that with every step forward I take, I go backwards thousands more. It was hideous being  the only one realizing the facts and not treating the guilty with compassion. 

“I’d rather be in her place than feeling the constant guilt eating me alive…” I heard how Yeosang clicked his tongue and left out a loud groan full of frustration.  

“Could you please behave yourself and stop being such a whining selfish bitch?”

Everyone flinched at the words that came out of his mouth. Yunho gasped in surprised while San clenched his jaw and was about to grab Yeosang’s shirt if it wasn’t for my arm hitting his chest to stop him. 

I was a little startled, yet I knew Yeosang would explode quickly at my words. I just couldn’t believe he’d call me like that. 

“What did you just say?”, I frowned and tilted my head a little to the side. Yeosang’s eyes scanned my face and pursed his lips again. 

“You’ve been such a crybaby since last week and it’s exhausting... We appreciate the care you had for Misuk, but life goes on, it’s time to grow up”, his voice was gentle this time, perhaps he noticed how rushed it came out for having everyone so dumbfounded. 

“Yeosang…” San started between his teeth, Yeosang interrupted stepping back. 

“Am I wrong? You all said this morning when she was out that she needed to calm down and be more rational about the situation”, his eyes traveled to every face in the basement, some of them had wide eyes and uneased faces. San and Seonghwa were madder than the others, though. “You said that if she wanted to keep going, she had to stop acting so depressed and be responsible for her actions.”

“We never said that!” Wooyoung suddenly interrupted with sharp tone, he was outrageous.  

“You did” San spatted, eyes never leaving Yeosang’s. 

“Nobody argued with me, tho. Nobody changed my mind, so you agreed indirectly with me that she’s being a whiny selfish girl ” Yeosang cleared, a smirk showing up in his face. 

Silence surrounded us one more time. Nobody argued with him, huh? I licked my lips slowly and stepped closer to Yeosang. He tensed for a second when the tip of our noses touched, but then, his features relax slightly as he tried to wipe a tiny tear streaming down my face. I slapped his hand and he flinched. I wasn’t calm at all and they’ve already watched my tears streamed from my face too much, so I cleaned my face quickly.

“Why won’t you go and fuck yourself...”, I firmly said watching his eyes. Yeosang retained his breath and gulped at my serious statement. 

After that,I walked away bumping into Seonghwa’s shoulder and entered the bathroom. I opened the shower so the noise of the running water would covered the talk outside. I felt my body drained with tiredness by the uptight situation, all I wanted was take care of them the way the always did with me but why was it so difficult? I sat on the cold floor resting my back on the wall next to the sink and let my mind travel with anything but Yeosang’s words. What would Haerin do…? Would we be in this situation if she was still alive? No… she was too smart, she could help us with this… I only seem strong but after 400 days of this mess, I can only be torn apart by the words of a friend… Yeosang was right, I was being a selfish bitch worrying about only surviving and not noticing the way people felt around. I always thought that keeping our feelings to us made us stronger, made us brave and unstoppable. I was wrong once again…  

I felt left alone, the voices in my head became louder and louder touching my nerves. Why all my decisions ended up so bad? Was I really that bad? How would the boys feel? How would Seonghwa feel? I never asked him how affected he was, I only knew he felt kind of anxious so far. The pressure that was on my shoulders became heavier with every step I took and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was totally unaware of my own feelings too… My main focus was Wonderland, was keeping everyone safe but at what cost? I was the last person to know about Jongho and Misuk, she had to die for me to realized it. This is so messed up. 

My sobs became stronger even if I wanted to stifle the noise with the water coming out of the shower. I felt pathetic, crying didn't change anything, my tears didn't bring Misuk back, or Lucas, or Haerin, or my family ... That's another reason why I didn't like to cry, it was useless. Eventually I would realize that I was damaging my interpersonal relationships because of my shield, that shield that tried to protect me from people who could use my vulnerability as a lethal weapon. However, I never realized that none of them would do such atrocity, except in such an extremist situation.

Two knocks on the door startled me and I turned off the shower. 

“Jiyeong?”, San’s voice came through the other side slightly. I didn’t answer.  

“Jiyeong, please, open up…”, I rested my forehead on the other side of the door and took a deep breath. 

“What do you want?”, I managed to say without a broken tone, despite the tears rolling through my face uncontrollably. 

“Can I come in?”, he asked pulling at the locked knob. My hand followed it and grabbed it strongly. 

“Can’t you use the other bathroom?”, I whispered, now a little bit quieter. 

“I don’t want to use it, I want to see you…”, he mumbled. A minute later he said louder, “shit, just open up, Ji…”, his voice transformed from gentler to an exasperated one. Before I could think, my body reacted first and unlocked the door. San entered the bathroom closing the door behind him and locking it again. I took a few steps back and sat again on the floor. San watched me do my thing and got himself comfortable by my side.

“Sorry about that…”, his hands played with the braids of his shoes while his eyes roamed the bathroom walls, he seemed nervous somehow. 

“What are you apologizing for…?”, I frowned and tilted my head to the side. His eyes met mine for a second.

“When Yeosang talked about you like that, I couldn’t say anything to defend you because-”

“Because you know it’s true…”, I finished his sentence as he left out a groan.

“I only agreed with the part of you being selfish, unaware of how people feel towards this whole end-of-the-world situation…”, his eyes met the walls again as I continue scanning his features.  

“I’m the one who feels sorry about everything…”, I whispered too caught up of his cheekbones. Did they always look that prominent? He has dark eye bags… Why does he look so tired and skinny but at the same time so full of shine and fit? I didn’t know anything about what was going on inside his mind, I never asked him how he felt or how was his day recollecting supplies. Guilt pressed my chest one more time as I understand I was a really bad person for not caring about the others around me. I blinked my watery eyes rapidly and San looked at the gesture with a sad smile. 

“Don’t be afraid to cry, Jiyeong…”, his voice always sounded so good when he had that look on his face, when he looked like he cared. 

“It doesn’t help with anything…”, I sniffed and torned my sight apart from his. He giggled and something inside me sparkled vaguely, like a soft tickle or a finger pressed into my stomach momentanly.  

“It actually work in a cathartic way, you know? It liberates you from sadness sometimes…”, why does he keep looking at me like that? What’s with that soft smile…? Saying I was confused would be an understatement, but San was a character that I couldn’t comprehend too much. He could be a very easy-going man which you can open up your heart and he’ll listen to every preoccupation you had. And sometimes he could be the Devil expecting you to die and join him in hell just to make you suffer… or maybe I was exaggerating things. Likewise, he could be gentle and a great friend, also a asshole when he wanted to act narcissist.

We remained silent for like an hour (it was actually thirty seconds), and he spoke again. 

“Yeosang is just upset, you know… after watching you with Hwa the other night and now with Hongjoong…”

“What do you mean?”, my voice came out as a whisper and San moved closer, his shoulder bumped into mine, his warmth skin felt slightly pleasant against mine. 

“Well, me too but… Yeosang is jealous”, I couldn’t find the meaning of the first phrase, yet my eyebrows knitted.

“He’s a dick, that’s what he is”, I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. San chuckled, his eyes disappearing in crescent moons. 

“Yeah, that too”, he agreed. 

“Why is he, tho…jealous I mean ”, I asked still intrigued about it. The black haired boy licked his lips and started.  

“Before everything happened, before the meteor and the monsters showed up, before silence covered the Earth and we were obligated to remain silence, Yeosang was dating someone…”, my eyes widened with the news, I would've never thought about that by myself.  “Remember when he was talking with someone over the phone one of the nights at the church and he started to breath like if he was having asma?”, I nodded. “Well, he heard them dying on the other side of the line…” 

“W-what…”, a gasp escaped my mouth in surprise. How would he...-?

“Yeosang’s upset because he knows you have opportunities but won’t give it a chance…”, San’s eyes rested on mine for a seconds, then he broke the gaze making me yearn for his orbes to see me again. “He would do anything to see his significant other alive, Jiyeong, and he’s mad at your oblivious ass…”, he finished resting the back of his head on the bathroom wall with eyes closed. Even though he seemed exhausted, he looked like a whole piece of art that I would love to paint someday… Oh… what should I respond to that…?

“I… I don’t know what you mean, tho. I don’t see opportunities, I only think about one thing and-”

“Yeah, we been knew… keeping us alive”, he laughed dryly and left out a deep sight. For a few minutes we sat there without a word. At the other side of the door Hongjoong and Yeosang’s voices echoed faintly, nonetheless I was focusing on San’s breathing next to me. He sounded calmed, almost asleep and it brought a little peace in my disturbed mind. If I wanted to express more, I needed to talk more about what I thought and I San was there in a bathroom floor, willing to wait for me to feel better, maybe it was the right time for just a start…

“I-...”

Three knots on the bathroom door made us jerked up and the soft voice of Seonghwa calmed my heart. 

“San, is she okay?”, the older asked with a concerned tone, almost like a whisper. San stood up on his feet and gave me a hand to do the same. “Can you guys get out? We need to rest, tomorrow is the big day”. I quickly washed my face in the sink and San was about to open the door when he questioned:

“What were you gonna say?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I remember”, a soft chuckled resonated in the place as. He nodded, not very sure if it was true and opened the door for Seonghwa. The black haired man had a anxious look on his face and he waited for San to go out of the bathroom to wrap me instead in his arms. 

“Jiyeong…”

“Let’s not talk about it”, I immediately said getting as far as I could of him with a soft tone. “We need to rest and go find our boys, Seonghwa, we’ll talk when we get them…”, he remained there after I entered my room with the door locked. Tomorrow would be the beginning of our journey to Wonderland, the nerves were already up in everyone’s body after the heated argument I caused and we needed to avoid negativity once again.  The only thing in my mind was San, Mingi and Jongho. I don’t remember being worried about the three of them at the same time, but somehow San slipped through my mind even if I didn’t want him there.

(...)

Masterlist

[fnaficsfordays]

All You Want

Sequel to All I Want.

AO3 Link

Word count: 1540

----------

Dear Scott and Jeremy,

A picture of the four of them, sitting side by side. Feet dangling off the side of the small pier, right above the surface of a lake. One weekend afternoon, when they’d decided to all simultaneously go out and feel the summer sun for once. And where a better place?

We all know that this was always a possibility.

The picture itself, too. Taken not too long after they’d actually arrived, mostly to just shoot the breeze for once. They hadn’t really thought the afternoon out, it was mostly for the sake of trying to beat the unbearable heat. Well… at least up until they’d taken the picture. Then, Vincent had gotten the brilliant idea of pushing Scott into the water.

Maybe there was only ever a single possibility.

Hell, if that wide grin in the photo was anything to go by, he’d most definitely already gotten the idea. And naturally, Michael followed suit in shoving him in next. Although, it ended up as more of a kamikaze move, as Vincent had taken him down with him. And then Jeremy had just decided to jump in of his own will. Fun, fun, fun.

But he wasn’t in love.

Still, though… I’m sorry.

A small pocket knife, the blade sheathed inside. This had naturally been Vincent’s- at least until Scott had spotted him with it out and taken it away. Which, while not an immediately stupid move, had proven to be quite difficult to maintain.

I just couldn’t keep on doing this.

He’d tried stowing it away, but Vincent had repeatedly attempted to get it back throughout the whole night. While not succeeding, Scott had quickly tired of his antics and had slipped it over to Michael to deal with. Which was actually… quite successful.

Maybe I also didn’t want to, but… how could I?

Vincent surprisingly hadn’t suspected a single thing. Perhaps it was because he’d thought Scott had just hid it elsewhere, but… he’d never gotten it back, for the rest of the night. It wasn’t until about a week later that Michael finally just gave it back, ever so casually. Of course, Vincent had proceeded to just keep it out for the rest of that night, but still. They could deal with that.

He still hadn’t been in love.

I’m just so… tired of it all.

Another photo. Not a very well-lit one. But then again, it had been taken in the middle of the night, with nothing but a dull flash and the stars above to light it up.

You already know it, for the past few months.

It had been a bit before a shift- half an hour before, as he had been told. Even in the dim lighting, it was easy to make out the two of them, laying down flat on the grass, absolutely shit-faced. Whether Vincent brought the drinks or Michael had, it was impossible to remember. Either way, they’d gotten so wasted that they’d gotten lost in the forest outside the pizzeria. Hadn’t one of them gotten stuck in a tree, too?

I’m sorry you had to keep on seeing me like that, too.

The picture had been taken by Jeremy, once he and Scott had finally found them. They’d gotten carried back, though he and Vincent had still been passed out as the shift started. It wasn’t until at around 4 AM that Michael finally woke up to the worst hangover ever.

I know I wasn’t that… helpful, during all those shifts.

But even with such a headache he didn’t forget how he woke up. Against a wall, in the corner of the room, head resting against Vincent’s shoulder. He’d been so disoriented, so confused, that he just wanted to go back to sleep, in the moment. And so, he had. And woken up again, at 6 AM, practically entangled in his arms.

Perhaps he was starting to fall in love.

Maybe it would have been easier if I didn’t come at all.

A small, delicate feather. White, dotted with grey and black speckles as it got closer to the tip. Michael had found this on another of their little lake trips, in the sand. They had become a common occurrence among the four of them at that point, whenever the weather allowed it. Except this time, it hadn’t been all four of them.

But… thank you, for still trying with me.

In fact, it was just him and Vincent. By themselves, one early spring afternoon. They’d arrived as the sun was starting to drift towards the horizon, sky just starting to take on hints of orange. And then… they ended up staying there, on that pier, side by side, late into the night.

Even if in the end, it all still came to this.

They’d barely actually done anything that evening, merely feeling the lap of the water against their toes. The smallest of conversation, the barest of days spent away from the pizzeria… yet it hadn’t felt like that at all, not to either of them. Not when it was just the two of them, simply watching the stars and moon slowly drift into view, sitting a bit closer than usual, trying to hide their warmth-filled smiles from each other.

You really are… just the best, you know?

Hell, the feather itself… it was quite beautiful, but if he was being honest, that wasn’t why he’d kept it from that day. No, it wasn’t the feather that he had kept at all, not inside his mind. Not inside his heart. Just… the feelings it held. The memories it held.

He had fallen in love.

I wish you… didn’t have to spend so much time, trying to make it better.

And one last photo, pointed upwards to the sky, in its early morning glory. Taken on one beautiful, half-ordinary day… until just then.

Because even though you guys did your best, it didn’t work.

A few, leaf-covered branches were visible in the corner of the picture, dark against the growing light of the sky. It was a beautiful picture, even if none of them were in it. But, after all, Vincent had been right behind the camera, trying to capture the colors before they faded. Even though, just like the feather… the picture itself didn’t truly hold the importance.

It’s not your fault, though, and please don’t think of this that way.

This photo… it had been taken on that hill, underneath that tree. The hill he’d asked him to come to, after the shift was over. The shift where… he’d finally confessed.

There’s just nothing else that’ll stop me from feeling like this.

A drunken moment that he would never remember from the night before… yet he had no need to, with what happened when he followed him up that hill for the first time. Sitting down, next to him, under that tree. And then… he held his hand. He kissed him, for the first time. And they’d been able to go back down, quietly admitting it to the other two.

He was in love.

They were in love.

I was going to marry him.

All these items, these keepsakes, these memories. All from over two years ago. Moments so far away, yet so close. Moments they had both wanted to hold onto forever.

Until… just a few months ago, on that same hill, underneath that same tree.

I was going to live with him.

It felt like his heart had died with him. Everything had died away in his eyes that evening.

And now…

Michael dullenly stared at the small objects, scattered across the floor in front of him. Breathing ragged, vision blurry… his senses all feeling so far away. Everything was too far away, from his head, from his heart… from him.

I’ve got nothing to live for.

And the letter, held in his hands, fingers shakily writing out the last few words. He kept the pen moving, forcing away the stinging pain, trying to push away the cloudiness enveloping over his mind for just a few more seconds.

Just promise me you won’t find yourselves like this too, alright?

There… it was done. Michael let the paper drop off to the side, out of his limited vision, away from the rest of the objects. At last, he let himself collapse to the ground, mind filled with nothing but the fading memories, blurring as they passed through his head. The pain in his slit wrists, slowly but surely bleeding out onto the carpet, was growing murkier with each passing moment.

Finally… all over. It was all over.

A few hours would have passed by the time that letter was finally picked up, by the time he would be gone, by the time it was much too late. He would never see Scott cry for the first time, having to be torn away from his own body. He would never hear Jeremy talking to his grave in the weeks after he’d left, trying to make sure he didn’t stay for too long. He would never know they quit the night shift over his own passing, moving on yet never forgetting a moment. He would never watch them get better when he hadn’t.

Sincerely, Michael.

[daxfarroh]

Chapter 2

Six months earlier. …

It had been a week since the battle at Crait, a week without standing on solid ground. On a larger ship this would not be so bad, but the Falcon with its trademark bumps and rattles made forgetting you were barreling through uncharted space in a rusty metal projectile impossible. It was quickly becoming unbearable for Rey. She had never been off-planet for so long, nor gone so long without being alone. A few short weeks ago, she would have killed to be in this exact scenario: far, far away from Jakku on a ship of her own, travelling with those she called her friends or even her family. But it seemed the habits developed over a lifetime of simple survival do not die easy, for she found herself hiding out in dark corners, leafing through the Jedi texts and sneaking tiny nibbles from the rations she'd squirreled away. And, despite the mustiness of all the bodies packed into the ship, the ceaseless static of nervous conversation and the reverent nods that greeted her at every turn, she had never felt more alone.

She knew she was lying to herself when she wondered why she felt this way, but she lied anyway. In her moments of weakness, when she couldn't distract herself with books or stupid exercises or games with Finn and Poe; when everyone else was sleeping, and she was left to deal with the throb in her chest, she remembered his senseless face. Melancholy and young in the light of drifting embers. How she'd knelt beside him on the lacquered floor and brushed the dark locks from his forehead so she could kiss him there. It was gentle, so he would not wake; so that she would only be a whisper in his floating mind, one that would weave itself in and remain long after she was gone.

Why had she done that? She truly did not know. He'd tried to kill her, after all, not long after she'd given him that kiss.

Then there was his face again. Hurt, defeated, betrayed. She'd stared deep into eyes that were no longer pleading but still retained a singular question, and she’d shut the door on him. Again. In that moment, it had felt right to end it. She had been infuriated - enraged by his viscous retaliation and high off the thrill of piloting the Falcon and wielding the Force to save her comrades. She didn't need him. She didn't need a teacher. She had her friends and the Jedi texts. As Leia would say, she had all she needed.

But now, after countless hours spent poring over dense pages of head-splitting jargon, she had made no progress in the Jedi department. As for her friends, Finn was still Finn, but it wasn't like it was before. As she watched him linger for days over the comatose Rose, she realized how little she knew him, how brief their time together had been. And Leia? She was entirely occupied with saving their rebel asses, and there wasn't much Rey could do to aid her in those diplomatic endeavors. Their interactions were few and far between - nowhere near what Rey would have liked.

So, she was left with this feeling. It was familiar, the one she hated most of all.

A memory of a memory. A mother and a father; promises made and tears shed. And then their absence and the sand whipping up to sting her eyes as a ship lifts off, watching it dissolve into the atmosphere under broiling heat. ... That first night spent alone and the shock of the cold setting in. That first mark scratched into scrap metal with trembling hands. … Another memory - more vivid: a trader with kind eyes. "A gift fit for a princess," he says as he pulls a shimmering orb from his bag. He holds it before her with two hands. "Coruscant," he says. Spiderwebs of golden light stretch around the tiny planet, and as she takes it delicately and holds it up to the sun, the lights dim to reveal a mosaic of geometry. When brought close to her eyes, she can see towers and arteries and the movements of life. It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. … She carries it with her everywhere. She knows the risk, but she wouldn't dare leave her treasure unattended, lest it be stolen. She is always wary of it there, wrapped in the folds of her scarf. But one day she slips, and she hears the shatter far below. When she slides down to its resting place, it is an opalescent dust. Beyond repair. …

It had been a week since the Bond last connected them. Rey assumed that when she'd shut the door on the man she once knew as Ben Solo, she had quite literally done the same with the Bond. This understanding did not settle well with her as yet another restless day passed by on the Falcon, and her comrades fell silent in sleep.

Despite her best efforts to deceive herself, she felt as though she'd done something very bad. Dirty, almost, like she had stepped on a beautiful moth. But it wasn't real, she told herself, again and again. We were only mice in a maze. …

Somehow, that thought twisted the knife deeper still. And it was because of this that she plunged even further into her book, filling her mind with a din of meaningless words to occupy the dark space inside of her.

She felt him before she saw him. When she looked up, he was sitting at a desk, engrossed in some kind of clerical work. He glanced back and forth from one data pad to another, typing entries with nimble fingers. He had dark circles under his eyes and his unwieldy hair was unkempt. Rey knew he felt her there, though he didn't make any moves to show it.

She waited, breathless. It felt like it had been an eternity since she last saw him, and there may as well have been an eternity between them. She understood this, so she just watched him. The hunched, dark mass of his form, conforming awkwardly to the confines of a chair; the crease in his brow, the slight movements of full lips.

He may be Supreme Leader, but an actor he is not, she thought as he visibly struggled to feign indifference. His eyes never wavered from his work and his demeanor was collected, but the jumping muscle in his jaw gave him away. It amused Rey that she could read him so easily, but after several minutes of watching this, her intrigue gave way to frustration.

"So, this is how it's going to be from now on?" her voice rang out.

Nothing. … She sighed audibly.

"You're going to ignore me? Like a child." There was a lightness in her tone. She wasn't trying to chastise him too much. He had every right to ignore her, given the circumstances. Though, in all fairness, she had the right to kill him, given the circumstances. So, he could at least acknowledge her.

When he finally spoke, it was calm and controlled, but he couldn't keep the edge out of it. "You're up late." He did not look up or stray from the task before him.

Rey hadn't actually considered what he would say if he did speak. "I - I'm reading."

"The Jedi texts?" he asked without hesitation.

"Yes—how did you know?"

"I'm Supreme Leader of the galaxy and the most powerful Force-wielder with formal Jedi training alive. Did you think I would not know if the sacred texts of the Order were stolen?"

Rey gulped.

"Well, don't worry. I'm not mad," he said, a bit mockingly. "You can keep them. They're the stuff of antiquity. I suppose you could trade them for a better ship.”

"Actually, I'm learning a lot," Rey lied. She was about as good at that as Kylo Ren was at acting. "I just started healing, actually--"

“Even if those books were at all useful, you can't learn how to wield the Force from a book. You need a teach -"

Rey stood abruptly, cutting him short. Why was this one subject the cause of so much strife?

“We are not doing this again.” She fought to keep her voice low so as not to wake the ship. “I don't know how long we'll be stuck here in the Bond, but I won't hear anything else from you about being my teacher. Is that understood?"

It shocked Rey in her trembling rage as Kylo Ren finally raised his eyes to meet her. As he did, she was sorry to look at him, because those eyes were so very dark.

"I wasn't offering," he said.

His dismissal stung more than she could have expected.

"Fine," she nodded. "Good."

He said nothing more and returned to his work. Not knowing what to do or say, or how long this pleasant interaction would continue, Rey sat back down and pretended to read the dusty old text that was before her. They remained that way, in stretching silence, for many long minutes. Rey snuck glances in his direction, but he did not reciprocate (as far as she could tell). It was like being alone, almost. With the entire ship fast asleep, the only sign of their presence the occasional snore or groan.

After a while of sitting like that, she forgot herself and that he knew she was there, and just observed him. The formidable Kylo Ren bent over his clerical duties. It was a sight that warmed her, strangely enough. She had never seen him this way, so quiet and still. And the longer she watched him, the harder it became to remember why she had ever been afraid of him. What was this man capable of? she asked herself again. This question had consumed her over the past week. Dark or light, how far could he go?

Rey realized then that perhaps the Bond was waiting for her to ask. That perhaps it was sentient and merciful, and it knew she could never truly rest if she did not know. Thus, in a leap of faith, she asked.

"Did you know that I was flying the Falcon?" Her own voice startled her.

As the dark knight raised his black eyes to meet her own, she immediately remembered why she had been afraid of him.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"Did you know?" she repeated, gathering her courage. "Did you know I was flying the Millennium Falcon at Crait?"

Rey saw something pass through his eyes, but she didn't know what it was. She could not read him now.

"No," he answered. It was definitive. Simple and firm.

Rey released the breath she had been holding with a heavy sigh. Emboldened, she probed a bit more. "Are you hunting us now? Is that what you're working on?"

"No."

Rey found that very hard to believe. "So, you're not chasing us?" Surely, he had something up his sleeve.

"No," he repeated dismissively. "I know you think ruling the galaxy is all rape and pillaging, but in reality it's a lot of paperwork. I have more important things to do than chase you and your friends through deep space."

"So, you're just going to let us go?"

"Are you disappointed?" There was a ghost of a smirk on his pallid face. "I'm sorry to break it to you, but you and your - cause - are now irrelevant. It's over. You should find a planet to land on before you run out of rations. Or, on second thought, maybe you should just keep going." He shrugged wickedly. "Bottom line: I don't care what you do, as long as you stay out of my way."

"That’s not true," retorted Rey, finding herself unable to sit. She rose to her feet once more, leveling with him. "It's not over. Leia will bring us back. You know she will."

"Maybe," he shrugged again. "I know she won't give up. She's never known life without war. ... I, for one, would like to."

"Like to what?"

"Know a life without war." He delivered those words sagely, as if he were addressing a six-year-old student. Then, he returned to his datapads.

Rey studied him for a moment, growing increasingly hot and irritated. He could hate her all he wanted, but she would not allow him to treat her like a fool.

"No. No, that isn't it." She shook her head vigorously. "Kylo Ren is not a pacifist.” She took a step toward him, growing taller over his seated form. "Kylo Ren thrives in battle. A lifetime of this," she gestured at his desk and his datapads, “would kill you. …. No. That is definitely not it."

"It isn't?" he retorted, eyebrows raised in mock interest. "What is it then?"

She took another step, now looking down at him slightly, which gave her confidence. "You won't chase us anymore because you know you can't kill us." She didn’t wait for a response. "You've tried, many times, to kill me - and your mother. And each time you've failed." Kylo Ren's face remained stony, but his jaw was working overtime. She pressed on. "I can't believe that it was a lack of prowess or resources on your part. No. You can't kill us, and you've finally realized it."

Her words settled over them like drifting snow, and the typically close cabin of the ship grew icy cold. Had she overstepped herself this time? He wasn't saying anything, and he was looking very volatile indeed. Suddenly, he was a man barely hanging on.

Abandoning his task altogether with the abrupt flinging of both datapads, he rose to his full, looming height, balled his broad hands into fists and fixed his eyes on the desk, which he now dwarfed.

"What do you want from me, Rey?" His voice was unnervingly low and strangled through clenched teeth. “Do you want me to say it?"

Without warning, he swiveled his massive head to face her, piercing her with a deathly stare. Rey stood very still. She would not provoke him any further.

"After all this," he swept his arms madly at everything around them and in between them. "After all of this, you want me to say it?"

At this close distance, with the heat of his breath almost palpable on her face, Rey could take him in fully. He looked exhausted. Yet slightly crazed. The scar she had given him was stark against ashen skin. And he looked distinctly tortured - more so than usual. He was an animal that had been kicked too many times.

"Do you?!"

"No," she whispered.

The silence hung for a moment before he sat back down, still shaking with whatever emotions were raging through his system. He struggled to regain his composure as he bent down to pick up the datapads and placed them on the desk.

"Just stay out of my way." His tone was tinged with finality. “And stop reading those books. They'll only make things worse."

With that, he was gone. As if he had never been there at all. Rey breathed a sigh of relief. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts. She wasn't sure what had just transpired. There was so much swirling around inside her. Laying her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes and allowed the vibrations of the Falcon to lull her into a quieter state.

No, she still wasn't sure what had happened between them. But as she went over in her mind the truths that he had revealed to her, she arrived at a startling conclusion: Ben Solo was not dead. Kylo Ren was now Supreme Leader, but it was Ben Solo who could not kill her. And it was Ben Solo who could not tell her why.

[saxonspud]

Outcast - Chapter 17

Just want to say thank you to everyone who sent me asks and private messages of support yesterday. Without your help, this story would have probably not been continued, so I dedicate this chapter to you. I hope you enjoy.

The trip from horseshoe overlook was all but made in silence. By the time Lenny arrived back, you had been lead to the wagon by Tilly, and all that remained to pack up, were the tents.

Dutch drove the wagon, and as promised, you sat beside him. Neither of you spoke. He knew what a serious undertaking this was, and he also knew how much this was going to hurt you. But it was what you wanted.

Lenny rode ahead, guiding the convoy of wagons. He dropped back once to ride next to Dutch.

“What's going on Dutch? I left Charles at the new camp, and he’s doing some weird stuff.” Lenny questioned.

Dutch sighed, “Don’t worry about it son, it’s complicated, but Charles… He knows what he’s doing.”

Dutch glanced at you, but his face was expressionless. You had a feeling he didn’t know exactly what he was going to be expected to do. You were pretty sure that Charles would tell him, when the time came. He’d already told you that Charles knew what your lore and customs were.

He looked back at Lenny, “did Arthur go for Micah?”

Lenny nodded, glanced at you and carried on leading the convoy.

After about an hour, Lenny turned up a secluded path, through some trees. Not unlike the path which lead to Horseshoe overlook.

The sun was beginning to sit lower in the sky, although it wasn’t yet beginning to set.

Charles walked over to the wagons as they came to a halt.

He looked up at Dutch, “do you want to do this tonight, there should be time before the sun sets?” he asked.

Dutch glanced at you, then at Charles.

“Yes, I want to get this over with as soon as I can,” he glanced at you, “for both of us.”

Charles nodded. “Then you better walk with me, so I can explain how it will go.”

Dutch nodded, and climbed off the wagon.

He looked up at you, “stay there Nizhoni, until its time?”

You nodded. You gripped onto the seat of the wagon, with your good hand. Your heart beating faster than normal. You knew all to well what was going to happen. You had been through it before with your people in the mountains. Last time, you were dragged kicking and screaming. Control taken away from you. This time you were giving control to someone else to do exactly the same, which was a lot more frightening.

Dutch called across to Susan, “Can you get my tent setup first, then the medical supplies sorted?”

Susan glanced at you then back at Dutch and nodded, before chivvying everyone up to get working.

Dutch then continued his walk with Charles. You hoped that Dutch wouldn’t change his mind when he realised what he would have to do.

Everyone in the gang knew what you had asked Dutch to do, and why. They knew as much as Dutch about the actual ceremony, which wasn't much. That was of course, with the exception of Charles.

As you sat on the wagon, you heard footsteps and looked down to see Abigail.

She went to touch you with her hand, a comforting gesture, but you quickly moved away.

“I’m sorry,” she began, “I forgot,” she hesitated, “I’m sorry Nizhoni, I cant stay. I don't want Jack to see this, I hope you understand,” she concluded, her voice cracking.

You couldn’t see her clearly, but you guessed by the tone of her voice that she was upset.

“Nizhoni understand. Boy too young to watch,” you agreed.

Abigail lowered her head, trying to contain the tears that were pooling in her eyes.

“You’re such a good person, Nizhoni. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

You gripped the seat a bit tighter, your chest feeling a little tight.

“go, take boy and go,” you asserted, you voice breaking as much as Abigail’s.

You watched Abigail walk towards the horses, but you were surprised when you glanced down and heard John.

“Nizhoni,” he started. “I know we didn't get off to a good start, but you saved my life. I ain't ever gonna forget that. If anyone can get through this, you can.”

You smiled, “Scar look good, John Marston.”

John chuckled, as he touched his cheek with his fingers. His face took on a more serious expression.

“I wish I could be here, to support you in some way, but I have to look after Abigail and Jack.”

You nodded, “John Marston look after family, No wolves in Rhodes.”

John nodded, “Ya know Nizhoni, we really don't deserve you,” he added, as he walked to where Abigail was waiting for him with Jack.

He glanced back to look at you. He knew you thought you had brought bad luck because of the mark on your back. To be fair a lot of things had happened. He had been mauled by wolves, Micah had set Sadie’s house on fire, then got arrested for murder. You’d been arrested and now bounty hunters were looking for you, as well as Arthur and Dutch because they thought you had murdered Molly. It could be a load of superstitious clap trap. Whether it was or not, you were prepared to go through this agony, to try and stem the bad luck. You were either very stupid, or very brave. He was beginning to think it was the latter.

Dutch and Charles returned from the walk along the shoreline. Dutch looked significantly paler, than when he had left you in the wagon.

He walked over to where Hosea was standing.

“Can you hold this for me,” he asked, removing his jacket.

Hosea frowned, “is everything ok, you look… Well you don’t look very well.”

Dutch rolled his eyes, and started to roll up his sleeves.

“I never thought I’d be doing this to someone I really cared about!”

Hosea hummed, “its not too late to...” he started.

“Yes it is,” Dutch interrupted, “she needs this, she’s terrified but she’s doing it anyway. She doesn't think that there's any other way. Its fucking religious crap, but its her fucking religious crap. Once this is done… At least she wont think she’s possessed by some serpent demon!”

Hosea frowned, “what?”

Dutch rolled his eyes. “Its what they believe. A great serpent...Snake, from the underworld sees the mark, and sends a demon so that anyone she touches gets bad luck. If she’d survived in the mountains, and her tribe had taken her back, they would have done this to her. At least with us, she has a better chance of surviving.”

Hosea nodded, “do you still have the medicine the doctor gave you?”

Dutch nodded, and pulled the phial from his pocket, and handed it to Hosea.

Hosea examined the bottle, “liquid morphine. As soon as this is over, and she’s in your tent, give her a dose.”

Dutch nodded, and put the phial back in his waistcoat pocket.

“Once I’ve done this, I’m the only one who’s allowed to touch her, until she’s in my tent. I want you and Susan ready, as soon as I put her on my cot.”

Hosea nodded, “understood.”

Dutch sighed and walked over to where Charles was standing.

“Lets get this done, Charles,” he stated.

Charles walked over to the wagon, where you were sitting.

“Nizhoni? Are you ready?”

You nodded. You climbed from the back of the wagon. Charles had already gone to the back of the wagon, where some of your stuff had been stowed.

He picked up your bow, quiver full of arrows and your knife. He gave them to you.

“Follow me, the path is clear, I wont touch you,” he advised.

You followed Charles to a small clearing in front of the scout camp fire.

Dutch was already there, holding something in the flames.

In the clearing, stakes had already been hammered into the ground.

You placed your bow to the left and your arrows to the right. Your knife you placed at one end, the end you were facing. You started to remove your clothes, and these were place behind you.

Other members of the gang, were watching. Most at a distance.

Sean stood with Karen, when he saw your clothes being removed, his jaw dropped.

“Jesus, that Dutch is one lucky bastard,” he scoffed.

Karen thumped him on the arm, “shut your gob, this ain't no laughing matter!” she hissed.

Susan who was standing next to Mary-Beth, looked at how pale she was.

“You don’t have to watch, if you’d rather not,” she whispered.

Mary-Beth nodded, but looked on regardless.

Hosea, had already averted his eyes. He stayed where he was, more to support Dutch than anything.

Javier, stood next to Tilly, his arm gently wrapped around her.

“Don’t look Chica, if you don't want to,” he soothed, But Tilly also stayed put.

You Knelt down and raised your arms skyward.

You began to speak in your own language.

Dutch looked at you, even though he didn't know what you were saying, he felt that the words had real meaning to you, and the sound of your voice, brought a lump to his throat.

You began;

O Great Spirit

whose voice I hear in the winds,

and whose breath gives life

to all the world hear me!

I am small and weak

I need your strength and wisdom.

Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset

Make my hands respect the things you have made and my ears sharp to hear your voice.

Make me wise so that I may understand the things you have taught my people.

Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock.

I seek strength not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy...myself.

Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes.

So when life fades as the fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame.

Once you had finished speaking, you lowered your arms. You looked at Charles and nodded, before laying flat on your stomach.

At this point, Dutch walked towards you.

He slipped the loop of a rope around your wrist, securing the other end tightly to one of the stakes.

You winced as the rope cut into your flesh.

He continued and did this to your other wrist and your ankles.

The rope between you and the stakes were pulled taught, making it impossible for you to move.

You turned your head towards you bow.

Dutch walked to your head, and crouched down.

“Open your mouth Nizhoni,” he whispered.

You complied, and he gently place a piece of wood between your teeth.

Standing up he walked back to the fire. You could hear him moving something in the flames. You knew what it was, you bit down on the wood, trying to prepare yourself for the pain to come.

As Dutch had walked back to the fire, Arthur and Micah had arrived at the new camp. Walking from the hitching posts, Micah had stared at the sight before him.

“What the fuck is Dutch doing to that redskin!” he exclaimed.

“Shut the fuck up Micah, or I’ll hang you myself,” Arthur retorted, punching Micah in the shoulder.

Before he had a chance to reply, he watched Dutch walk over to you, with something metal in his hand. It was glowing white hot!

Dutch stared at you, even like this you were beautiful, he watched as you breathed, you were trembling. Your ribs poking through your skin with each inhale. The doctor was right, you were pitifully thin.

Dutch glanced at Charles, as he swallowed down the bile that was rising in his throat.

Charles nodded his head.

Dutch rammed the white hot metal circular disk, attached to the end of the pole, down onto your back, covering the mark that was already there.

The sound that came from you would have been enough to scare the hounds of hell back to hades.

It was guttural and raw.

Every muscle in your body stiffened, as unimaginable pain ripped through your body.

Dutch held the burning metal disk on your back, for what seemed like an eternity, until Charles gave him the nod to remove it.

The smell of burning flesh was rancid, and Dutch turned his head away, not only because of the smell, but because he couldn’t stand to look at what he had done.

The gentle breeze that blew across the camp, wafted the smell to the onlookers.

Bizarrely at same time as Dutch thrust the burning metal onto your back, a low grumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, and a streak of lightening cracked on the mountains in the distance.

Mary-Beth and Susan, had looked away, the minute Dutch picked up the brand.

Tilly, had screamed, and buried her head into Javier’s chest, sobbing. Karen had wrapped her arms around Sean, burying her head in his chest. She didn't cry, she was completely silent.

Sean looked towards the mountains, “hope that struck the fuckers that did this to her,” he hissed, quietly.

In truth, it had all been over in less than ten seconds, but to you and the onlookers it seemed much longer.

Dutch flung the brand at the fire, as Charles handed him a wooden cup, intricately decorated with the morning star. It was filled with water. Dutch didn't have time to think about the symbolism, which Charles had told him earlier was a sign of courage, and purity of spirit.  He just poured the water, over the burn mark on your back. Still hot, it hissed, and steam rose.

Dutch looked momentarily at the place where your mark had been, the serpent mark had been erased, replaced with a blank circle, burnt into your back.

He quickly ran to where your knife lay. Picking it up, he sliced through the ropes.

Your whole body, had begun to shake.

“Quickly,” Charles hissed, “she’s going into shock!”

Dutch quickly picked you up, being careful not to touch the newly made mark on your back, and ran to his tent.

Hosea was already there holding the flap open.

Dutch put you on the cot, laying on your stomach. Your teeth were still clenched tight on the wood.

He gently stroked your face. As he did your jaw relaxed, the wood dropped out of your mouth, and you started to sob.

“I know, Nizhoni, I’m so sorry.” he soothed.

Dutch quickly pulled the phial out of his pocket.

“Nizhoni, sweetheart, I need you to open your mouth,” he whispered.

You opened your eyes, gasping for breath between sobs, you opened your mouth.

Dutch dropped some of the liquid on your tongue, which you swallowed.

“Gone?” you rasped.

Dutch stroked your face, “Yes Nizhoni, its gone.”

Your eyelids began to flutter, as the painkilling drug took effect.

Dutch gently kissed your forehead, as Hosea and Susan walked into the tent, armed with medical supplies to tend the wound on your back.

[minyardcva]

For andreil: high school au??

hii!! i know this is literally months late, and i’m terribly sorry. i got caught up in so many things, and only recently found the time to do it. i threw in a bit of a sickfic in it, and i hope you won’t mind! you can also find it on my ao3!

Andrew knew the new kid was trouble, with his stupid laugh, and the totally not hot British accent and deep blue eyes and hair that looked like it could catch fire and probably engulf Andrew in it, too. He had told Renee the kid was more trouble than he was worth, yet he was as helpless as a poor sailor at the first note of a siren’s song. And that’s why, when his brother had brought the new kid home to study for their upcoming chemistry test, Andrew had casually strolled into Aaron’s room while he was in the bathroom, and glanced around the room, looking everywhere except at the kid. The kid - he should really start calling him by his name, Neil Josten, but just imagining how his name rolled off his tongue did weird things to him that he wasn’t ready to admit - had noticed Andrew’s search was coming up short and cleared his throat to catch Andrew’s attention.

“Uh, Andrew, right? Are you looking for something?”

He’d seen the kid around the school, shared some classes with him, but never talked to him. He was often on the side and trying to avoid the spotlight, but the pretty face wasn’t enough to garner Andrew’s full attention. What did, though, was the kid roasting the absolute fuck out of the class’s resident asshole. In that damned accent.

Hearing his name coming from the ki- Josten’s mouth, well, he was ready to admit he was absolutely fucked. He regarded Josten with a bored glance and continued looking around.

“Great deduction skills. I need Aaron’s charger.”

Of course, he knew where the charger was, but Josten didn’t have to know that. He saw Josten frown, but before he could make a retort, Aaron came into the room.

“My charger’s done for. Where’s yours?”

Aaron lifted a brow at him because he knew that Andrew knew where the charger was, but Andrew gave him a pointed look to shut him up. Aaron gave a quick glance in Josten’s direction to show Andrew that he was onto him, and gave him the charger.

The next day, Andrew sat at Josten’s table. He learned that Josten had moved with his mother, Mary, because of his parents’ nasty divorce, that Mary had wanted to be as far away as possible from her abusive ex-husband, and even changed her last name so he wouldn’t be able to find her. He also learned that Mary was quite obsessive and paranoid over her son, that she was downright hostile to every friend that Josten’s ever made, and that she let him out of the house only under the condition that he carry his phone on him all the time, and that he came home straight away after the classes.

So Andrew and Josten came up with a solution. A couple of nights a week after school Andrew would go under Josten’s window and wait for Josten to let him in. Soon enough Josten became Neil, a good company who sometimes didn’t know when to shut up for his own good, but who respected Andrew’s boundaries and never pushed for more than Andrew would give him. And Andrew was hooked.

It was on one of these nights when the weather broadcast proved to be shit yet again. It was a warm night, no need for jackets, or so the broadcaster said. It was also, unfortunately, when Andrew felt the crisp breeze rise and the first droplets of rain start to fall. Andrew would really have to file a report against the broadcaster one of these days.

Andrew didn’t show up at school the next day. He wasn’t in Neil’s Spanish class, but since it was their first class Neil brushed it off as Andrew sleeping in. But when he couldn’t find him at lunch or anywhere else, Neil started to worry. He knew that Andrew had bad days after nightmares about the time before his cousin took him in, but he still backtracked to the night before, thinking that maybe something they had talked about got under Andrew’s skin. He came up with nothing and it wasn’t like Andrew would hesitate to tell him when to stop. He decided to give Andrew space and wait until Andrew came to him. But Andrew didn’t show up the next day either.

On the third day, he finally gave in and decided to ask Aaron what was going on. While their teacher was droning on about neutralisation, Neil leaned closer to Aaron’s desk and whispered his name. Aaron turned to look at Neil and raised his chin in a sign that he was listening.

“Where’s Andrew?”

Aaron raised a brow at him. “Took you long enough. He’s in hospital.”

Neil felt his stomach bottom out, and he quickly tried to push the panic rising in his throat down. Did he get in a fight again? Or were the nightmares too much? He remembered the knife Andrew always kept on himself and the armbands covering the scars on his skin. Neil swallowed and kept his voice as steady as possible.

“What happened?”

“The rain caught him and he got pneumonia. Told Nicky it was nothing that hot chocolate couldn’t solve and Nicky almost had to drag him to the hospital.”

The teacher sent them a pointed look and Aaron turned towards the board. As soon as the bell rang, Neil took Aaron by his elbow and dragged him through the crowd of people who apparently had nothing better to do than walk slower than snails in the school corridors.

“I’m telling my mom we’re going to study at your house and I need you to confirm it.”

Aaron huffed. “He won’t be grateful to you.”

“Like I care.” Neil put a finger to his lips as he waited for Mary to pick up.

“Mom? No, everything’s okay. I just called you to say that I’m going to Aaron’s after school to study. No, don’t wait for me, I don’t know when we’ll finish, these things are a bit tricky. Sure.”

He passed the phone to Aaron who put on his most polite voice.

“Hello, Ms Josten. Yes, it’s tomorrow. No, we didn’t know, the teacher just told us.” He paused for a moment. “No, the soulless one won’t be there. Okay. Goodbye.”

Aaron hung up and passed the phone back to Neil. “Soulless. She’s mellowed.”

Andrew was lying in his hospital bed with a sweater on and the blankets up to his chin so he wouldn’t have to look at the awful hospital gown. He’d put on some random cartoon just to pass the time and was eating a doughnut that Nicky had made him when Neil came in.

Well, this day just keeps getting better and better.

Well, at least he could pretend that his silence was deliberate, and not because his crush just suddenly appeared in his hospital room. So he stared.

Thankfully, Neil cleared his throat and motioned to the TV. “That interesting?”

“You don’t seem hurt. Why are you at the hospital? Wait, don’t tell me, they’re finally signing your mother in a psychiatric ward.”

“Don’t want to ruin your mood, but not yet.” Neil laughed, and Andrew could already hear it, the alluring melody of that stupid siren song which tugged at his treacherous heartstrings.

“Shame.”

Neil rolled his eyes and sat on the chair near Andrew’s bed, leaning forward with his arms on his knees, giving Andrew a nice close up of his blue eyes. Andrew would blame it on the fever, but he could swear he heard waves crashing in his ears.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“To give your mother a heart attack.”

“Very funny. I could do it just as easily in the house. I came here to apologize.”

Andrew lifted a brow at him in mock surprise. “That’s new. I wasn’t aware that you owed me anything, let alone an apology.”

“Are you really going to pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about?” Neil frowned and looked around the hospital room in emphasis.

“Oh, this? Last I checked, you didn’t infect me with pneumonia.”

“Yeah, but you caught it because of me.”

“You flatter yourself, Josten. I’m self-destructive, not stupid.”

“So you caught pneumonia just so you could skip school and watch cartoons?”

“And eat Nicky’s doughnuts. They’re worth skipping, you should try them.”

Neil just stared at him like he was impossible, and what else could Andrew do but prove him right. They stared at each other for a few moments before Neil finally relented and leaned back against the chair. He took his backpack and shook it in his hands.

“Well, if you’re not going to let me apologize, I guess I’ll have to take all these sweets I brought as an apology.”

Of course he knew how to get Andrew wrapped around his little finger. Did the bastard even try at this point? Or was Andrew way too into him for that to even matter? Well, he could think about that after he ate all the sweets.

“You know, I was leaving your house because your mother was keeping you as a prisoner when the storm caught me so I’m willing to accept this as her apology.”

“So you want them?”

“I told you. I don’t want anything.”

Neil was starting to retract the bag when Andrew shot his hand forward and took the candy bag from Neil’s backpack.

“But I will take them because I’m hungry and this hospital food is shitty.”

Neil huffed a laugh. “Whatever you say.”

Before Andrew could utter a retort, Neil pulled out a notebook and started leafing through it.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, since you must be oh, so lonely, I thought I’d stay a bit and keep you company.”

“You told your mother you were at my house and it would be suspicious if you came this early, didn’t you?”

“Hmm, maybe.” Neil gave him a quizzical smile without looking up from his notebook.

The next half an hour or so they spent in comfortable silence. Neil did his homework while Andrew systematically went through the candies, not even bothering to offer Neil some since he knew the latter didn’t like sweets. Andrew tried to concentrate on the TV, on the bright colours and loud noises, but no matter how hard he tried, he found that Neil’s presence, so close yet so far away, would always be louder and he couldn’t help but throw glimpses at Neil; Neil furrowing his brow when he heard Andrew cough roughly; Neil’s lips stretching in a lazy smile after figuring out a tough problem; Neil sleepily rubbing his eyes or biting his lip in concentration. The wind was rising, the waves were crashing and crashing, and he was a reckless sailor looking down into the ocean’s wild waters, deep blue like-

“Uh, Andrew, you okay there?”

Andrew couldn’t entirely suppress the full body shudder and he turned to look at the IV in his arm so he wouldn’t have to look at Neil’s face. And to block Neil’s view of his heated red one.

“Apparently not.”

“I’m serious, you’re red all over. We should call a nurse in case your fever’s back up.”

“Don’t be stupid. It’s just too hot in the room, junkie.”

And, wanting to prove that he’s right, he sat up and kicked the blankets down at his feet. Neil didn’t seem fazed, though. He didn’t try to throw the blankets over Andrew, but he was halfway out of his chair.

“Might be, but you should still have it checked. I’ll be right back.”

Andrew wanted to argue more, but he knew there was no point when Neil, the junkie, set his mind to something. Like exy, or those stupid math problems, or arguing about irrelevant things just to prove a point. When Neil got out the door, he plopped back on the bed and repeated every curse word he knew in English, German, and some French ones he managed to pick up from Neil. Neil. Ok, scratch French. Fuck French. Specifically Neil speaking French.

He crossed his arms, fully prepared to refuse to cooperate because he was supposed to be better than this, and blushing so badly that your crush needed to call the nurse is, frankly, embarrassing. But then Neil came back with the nurse and had that anxious furrow between his brows and just as Andrew thought he’d managed to overcome the high waves, they rose again even higher and threatened to pull him under.

The nurse asked him the regular questions and checked his pulse and blood pressure, and when Andrew refused to let her touch his forehead to check if he had a fever she sighed as if she was used to difficult patients, and pulled out a thermometer.

Great. Could this day get any worse? He stopped his thoughts at that, not wanting to bring any more misery on himself.

The thermometer beeped and Andrew passed it to the nurse. He watched as confusion passed across her face as she compared Andrew’s still red face with completely normal results, but she managed to catch herself in time when she saw Andrew glaring daggers at her. She threw a quick glance at Neil, then back at Andrew, and back at Neil, and Andrew could almost hear a click as it dawned on her. Andrew felt his shoulders stiffen but, luckily, the nurse (Abby, Andrew remembered, and told himself not to antagonize her too much until they let him out as thanks) just smiled knowingly and said that he was probably overheated from the blankets and that she’d be back to check on him later.

A pathetic wheeze of relief which he would blame on his trouble with breathing escaped his throat, and he slowly relaxed his stiff shoulders as she left them alone.

He wasn’t going to shoot his shot looking miserable in a hospital room, but he also never believed he’d meet someone who could make him blush so hard he needed a nurse to check up on him. The waves were deafening, spraying his face with stray droplets, the wind was howling, but in the middle of that cacophony Andrew heard it - the melody, soft and inviting, overpowering the storm. Andrew closed his eyes and jumped. Water was everywhere around him, engulfing him, and he was only going deeper. But when he opened his eyes, instead of the darkness, he saw red.

Andrew sighed and played with the tape pinning the IV. “I hate you.”

Neil answered, unbothered, like Andrew knew he would. “What else is new?”

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you.”

Silence. Then, unsure, “You like me?”

Andrew left the tape and let his glare be his answer. He could see the surprise and doubt in Neil’s face, but then he took a better look at Andrew’s blush. His eyes widened and his voice was a little breathless when he said, “You like like me.”

“Yes, Josten, I think we’ve already established that.”

“But you never said anything.”

“I told you. I’m self-destructive, not stupid.”

Neil let out a laugh and smiled at Andrew.  “You know, you look like a tomato right now?”

But he said it like tuh- mah -toh, not to tuh- may -toh, and Andrew felt like death is finally coming to get its ugly claws on him, so he tried to bury as much of himself in the blankets as possible.

“Fight me.”

“I could literally flick you with my finger and knock you out.”

“I’ll tell the nurse you’re harassing me.”

He meant it as a joke but was still surprised when Neil laughed and got up to go.

“Well, my mom will be harassing me if I don’t get back home soon, so… But hey, when you get out maybe we can…” he gestured vaguely with his hands.

“If you say fight with our faces, I’ll personally put you in intensive care.”

“Such a party breaker. We don’t have to fight with our faces.” He paused. “Always.”

Andrew rolled his eyes but said, “Yes. Now go and leave me alone.”

He watched Neil as he was going but then Neil looked at him one more time. Andrew quickly turned away and pretended to watch the cartoons.

“And Andrew?”

It wasn’t a question so he just said, “Josten.”

“Red looks nice on you.”

[monstersandmaw]

Dullahan ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ Story - Part 11 (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Wow, well I have stepped back from Tumblr a bit today, but I've got this 5300 word part to post for your delectation! It’s been on my Patreon on early release, and it’s now time for it to go up on here. I hope you like it!! The last instalment was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, with finding and freeing half-goblin Will, and then D getting critically wounded in the fight with the mayor. Coming up, we’ve got a new centaur and gnoll to introduce you to, and Erik the mino’s brother makes a short appearance.

The vote was super close, but those of you who chose to send him back to the fae realm with Ten were just in the majority! The emotional ride continues a bit in this part, but hopefully you'll enjoy it. I can see there being possibly 2 more parts to this story. 

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten

“You’re right,” you said. “Take him. Heal him. And when he’s better, bring him back to me? Please?”

Tenacity nodded once.

“Tell him I love him…” you said.

“He knows.”

“But tell him anyway!” you sobbed, your throat closing around the words, choking your breath on your raging emotions. Your harsh voice scraped on the rough-hewn walls of the tunnel around you. “Please.”

Tenacity softened and adjusted her grip on him as he lay in her arms. “I will. Be careful, won’t you?” she said. “You’ve been bloody stupid so far.”

You ground your jaw and stared furiously back at her. “You shouldn’t have given me the power behind your name then, should you?” you challenged.

Her eyes flared up. “He’s in this mess because of you!” she hissed.

Then D’s right arm twitched and he reached blindly out for you. As you caught it, his soft, wheezing voice murmured from every direction, “Don’t… fight,” and another wracking sob tore itself involuntarily from your chest.

“He’s right,” you told Tenacity, and you summoned every last scrap of your remaining courage. “Take him out of here. Take him home.”

And you squeezed D's hand one last time before Ten closed her eyes, and the pair vanished like smoke from where they had been standing. The gaping void which their sudden departure left in your life rocked you to your core, and you stared at the spot where they had been, eyes locked on the spatters of D’s phosphorescent blood on the tunnel floor.

Kravik’s approaching footsteps barely sounded above the wild pumping of your blood in your ears, and it took him actually reaching for your hand for you to come back to your senses. “You going to be alright?” he asked hesitantly. He’d simply been standing there, waiting for you to rally, and when you hadn’t, he’d helped you as he always did.

Your fingers clenched reflexively around your best friend’s hand and you swiped tears and rock dust from your face. “Gods,” you rasped, blinking furiously to clear your vision of tears. “I must look a mess.”

“We all do,” he said, looking down at the mayor. “What are we going to do about her?”

Your eyes followed his gaze and you tried to scrape your brain back together to form a coherent plan. The shivering of the rocks around you reminded you of the most pressing matter. “We need to get her out of here. The whole mine could collapse now. And Will too; I’ll go back for him. You run back out to the entrance and fetch Vhorn. He can carry her out and we can decide what to do with her as a whole town…”

He nodded, clearly trying to ignore the choppy way you spoke and the wild light in your eyes. “Hey,” he murmured, giving you one last squeeze. “Thank you. Will’s and my people might well have died without your intervention.”

Your smile was weak as you blinked back at him. “Like I said before, Krav, I’d do anything for you. I just… I just hope…” He didn’t need to watch your gaze flicker back to the green blood on the stone to catch your meaning.

“Yeah,” Kravik agreed. “I hope so too. He seems strong though. And he’s in good hands. Come on, standing here isn’t going to help anything.” And with that, he headed back up the tunnel towards the daylight.

You watched his retreating back melt into the shadows of the passageway in a matter of seconds, drew a long breath, and then began to feel your way back down the tunnel. Without the lights of the dullahans’ combined essences to illumine the path, it was slow going, but you staggered and stumbled your way down the passage, managing to avoid trampling or tripping on the mayor as you passed, and came back to the main cavern and study without getting lost.

The lights of her enchanted lanterns still glimmered on the walls as before, and after a brief glance around, you saw Will standing at the desk on the right hand wall. His long, goblin-like fingers were leafing through various disordered piles of research notes, and he had his back firmly set to the open cell door on the left hand wall of the cave.

“Will?” you called softly to him. “Will, we need to get out of here. All those explosions… This place isn’t stable any more.”

“I know,” he said, his tone tense and grim. “I just wanted to gather enough proof of what my mother was doing. And… you never know if there are going to be any side effects of what she did to me. We might need her research notes.”

“You think there might be more in the lab?” you asked, eyeing the now open and un-warded laboratory door at the far end of the cavern. When he nodded slowly without stopping or looking up, you said, “Go and have a look in there while I search through the things here. We will be quicker that way, and then we can leave.”

Will moved, but he didn’t turn to go immediately to the laboratory. Instead, he looked up at you with his enormous, black eyes. His skin was the dark, smoky grey of a goblin’s, but his features were as much human as goblin. He licked his thin lips briefly as he tilted his head up to look at you. “Thank you,” he said in a broken whisper. “You risked your life to free me. And… And that dullahan… he… he might…”

“Don’t,” you hissed, perhaps a little more harshly than you’d intended. “Don’t finish that.”

“Fine,” he said. “But I know I’ll never be able to thank you for what you’ve done and what you’ve risked.”

“You can thank me by grabbing everything that’s useful, and then following me out of here,” you said quickly as the cavern rumbled ominously and the terrifying clatter of small stones showering to the ground made itself known to you. A small trickle of dust landed on your shoulder and you flinched. “Hurry!”

Will nodded seriously, and trotted off to the laboratory, leaving you to rummage around frantically on the desk. You grabbed anything that looked like research notes, an odd amulet, and a tome on magical mineralogy, but you left the bag of runestones and the crystal sphere, the carved gnoll skull, and what looked like a sacrificial knife, and yelled at Will to hurry up as the cave reverberated with another horrifying rumble.

He bolted out a moment later, a lantern swinging from one arm, and said, “Yup. Come on. I don’t like the sounds I’m hearing. We need to leave, immediately.”

The pair of you scarpered for the exit, darting up the tunnel, and as the swaying light of the lantern washed over the massive form of Vhorn, grumbling as he picked the mayor up and dumped her over one enormous shoulder, you nearly screamed in shock. He’d looked like some kind of rock demon, disturbed by all the explosions.

“Come on,” he growled. “Whatever the hell you’ve been doing down here has nearly brought the whole mine down. Run!”

And with that, you all sprinted upwards towards the light.

No sooner than you had reached the last few yards of tunnel than the whole mine folded in on itself behind you with a terrifying, thunderous cracking and rumbling of rock. You just got clear enough of the entrance not to be blasted by the rush of billowing dust and debris that exploded out behind you, and you tripped, falling face first in the grass, the mayor’s research notes scattering onto the ground beside you.

Kravik was at your side in an instant. His quick, deft hands touched your shoulder gently and he pulled you over onto your back. “Hey, you alright?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, unable to think.

“Here,” he said, cradling your head in his hand and lifting it so that you could drink. “Wash some of the gunk out of your throat, eh?” he smiled.

You took a long pull from the waterskin, rinsed your mouth out, and spat to the other side.

“More?”

With a nod from you, he raised it again, and you drank the water down this time.

You struggled to sit up fully, and as you set your hands down, your palm came into contact with a smooth fragment of stone that had been carved and inlaid with small runes. The gold glinted in the sunlight, and you gasped. “This is what kept the dullahans out,” you murmured, turning it over in your hand. “It must have broken the wards when the mine began to collapse. That’s how they got in.”

Before Kravik could answer, Vhorn came stumping over, having deposited the mayor somewhere for now, and his massive, orcish frame blotted out the sun above you as he came to a halt. “What the hell happened down there?” he asked. “I thought you were fumigating for beetles, not bringing down the town’s livelihood around you!”

Kravik stood protectively at your side, but you set down the runed fragment of rock, took a deep breath, and then stood. You barely came up to Vhorn’s chest, but still, you faced him calmly. “The mayor was using the silver mine as a cover for something else.”

“What? Impossible,” he snorted.

“Hear me out,” you said firmly, holding up a hand. “She used a substance called ‘phorosnykum’, which is poisonous to goblins and gnomes and other stone-bound creatures in its raw form. But she refined it, and then tattooed it into her half-blood son’s arms in an attempt to awaken the magic in him. It amplifies a mage’s power, apparently, and she hoped that his human blood would be enough to activate it, and that his goblin blood would no longer keep the magic from being dormant in him.”

Vhorn growled and turned to look at the mayor. She was lying on two large, wooden crates, still unconscious from Will’s blow to the head. You knew you should probably look at that, that a head wound could be serious, but because of what she’d done to D, and to the goblins, and to her own son, you couldn’t find it within yourself to care quite enough to do it immediately. You couldn’t do much until she woke up anyway, you knew.

Vhorn was breathing heavily, and the sound of it rasping in and out of his flattened, orcish nostrils made recalled you to yourself. “She poisoned my wife, my beloved Minna, so she could torture her son?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a shrug. “I think we should take her to the town cells, and Will and I can show everyone the evidence. Let the people she screwed over decide what to do with her.”

“If this were an orcish clan…” he began, but you laid a hand on his massive forearm.

“Vhorn, it’s not,” you said quickly, stalling him before he gained any momentum. “I know what swift and true orcish justice looks like, but I think we should talk about it. All of us. As a town.”

“What’s to talk about!” he bellowed, drawing the attention of the onlookers, and for the first time you realised that there were goblins there who had been mining phoros until very recently. Were they alright? You should be tending to them, not arguing with the overseer.

“Vhorn, we’ve got sick people to deal with. Help me get them to the healing house to be checked over.”

The sound of running feet, and possibly also of hooves, reached your ears, and you turned to see a small party rushing up the hill from the road below. Among them was Erik, his long-handled axe strapped to his massive back and his minotaur’s hooves pounding the earth as he ran beside Orin, a large bay centaur, and with them came Nuari, a frankly enormous gnoll. The three of them were woodcutters and had obviously come running from the glade not far away at the sound of the mine collapse.

Erik took one look at you, and then at the billowing dust still lingering and drifting in the air between the pine trees, and his eyes went wide, his nostrils flared, and he barrelled at you. Your friend picked you up and held you in his huge arms. “Gods, what happened? Are you alright? Is anyone still trapped inside?”

You shook your head. “No one is inside,” you said with certainty. “We got everyone out. Put me down, Erik, I’m fine,” you added with a wheezing chuckle. “We do need a hand getting a few of the miners to the healing house though.”

Your knees felt weak as water after everything you’d been through as you and Kravik organised the safe transport of everyone to the healing house, distracting Vhorn by asking him to help as well. You and the goblin exchanged a look if satisfaction and relief as the orc walked away from the mayor to begin helping to carry the coughing and shaken goblins and other miners down the hill towards the town.

“Nuari,” you called, and the big gnoll looked round and came padding over to you.

“You alright?” he asked, subtly snuffing the air around you.

You smiled. You’d not really had much to do with him in the past, but he occasionally shared a drink with you, Kravik and Erik in the inn. More recently he’d taken a shine to a hunter who had moved in on the outskirts of town. “Yes,” you confirmed. “I’m shaken, but alright for now. Would you help me take the mayor to the town hall? I’ve looked her over, and apart from dizziness and a bit of sickness consistent with a concussion, she’s alright. There is a holding cell we can keep her in there until we can put her on trial…”

He nodded. “Of course,” he said with a somewhat grim and toothy smile.

Nuari unceremoniously pulled her to her feet and growled at her to stay silent, and you walked by his side as he led her away with a firm grip on her. Through the trees ahead, you saw Orin returning with Erik, having transported the disorientated goblins to the house of healing. There was no sign of Vhorn, thank goodness, but Erik’s little brother, Calum was with them. Erik was still signing rapidly to his deaf brother as they drew level with you, Nuari, and the mayor, clearly filling him in on all that had happened, but as your head began to spin and points of light sparkled across your vision, he broke off and darted forwards.

Taking deep, steadying breaths, you tried to fight off the dizzying weariness, but as you swayed perilously, he looked up at Orin, who grinned. “Pop her on board,” the big centaur smiled, turning broadside to you, his big, feathery shire’s fetlocks dancing and swishing.

“Thanks, Orin,” you whispered, mortified. You couldn’t help the gasp of surprise as Erik hoisted you easily up onto the centaur’s back.

“Hold on,” Orin grinned. “I’m taking you home. You need to clean up and relax.”

The ride back to your cottage was short, and honestly passed in a complete blur. Erik thanked Orin and led you inside while the others saw the mayor safely to the cell. Erik seated you on a stool while he gave you a drink and a piece of nut brittle he found in your pantry for a quick blast of energy. “There,” he smiled, kneeling down in front of you.

A sudden wave of gut-wrenching loneliness washed through you. The feeling of D’s fleeting grip on your hand, the warmth of his palm on your thigh, the flickering light of his phosphorescent lines: it all filled you with a deep, gnawing terror, and you couldn’t tell anyone about it. Kravik knew, but he was busy seeing to his people.

“Hey,” Erik murmured. “Hey, it’s going to be alright. I’ll get some water heating for you so you can wash up, and then I want you to lie down for a while, alright?”

You nodded mutely, allowing the big, dark minotaur to take care of you while you simply sat there, trying not to cry.

It seemed like a long time later that the water was hot enough for you to take a bath, and even longer until you were lying down on your bed. “I’ll get Krav to come and find you later,” Erik said as he made his way to your bedroom door. “Try and rest a bit for now. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal.”

“Thanks, Erik,” you smiled weakly.

The big minotaur just nodded again and backed slowly from the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Alone in the stillness of your bedroom, you tried not to let your thoughts and fears run rampant through your exhausted mind, but it was utterly futile. Taking a deep breath, you pulled the covers up around your ears, and let the bone-deep tiredness soak through you. Your last thought as you slipped under into unconsciousness was of D.

The mayor’s trial was a sad affair. Will testified against her, looking so small as he stood up in the little town hall. It was hardly a formal courtroom like they had in the big cities, and there was no precedent in this backwater trading town for trying the mayor of the town itself, but everything was noted down and recorded properly, and the town council passed the final sentence. The mayor had caved in and admitted everything when you had stood up and spoken of the damage she had done to the bodies of the goblins she had used to extract the phoros from the mines. She was sent under guard to the city where she was passed over to the guild of mages, along with all the documents of her crimes.

Life slowly returned to normal in the town, but your victory still felt hollow without D by your side.

You worried every night about him, and with no word from Tenacity, you began to fear the very worst. If anything happened to him, would Tenacity come back to tell you? Or would she just move on to the next place that called for a dullahan’s justice?

Two weeks passed, and you tried to occupy yourself in caring for the remaining goblins who still couldn’t quite shift the hacking coughs from the phoros powder. Minna recovered fully, and you laughed for the first time in at least ten days when big Vhorn swept his tiny wife up and held her in his arms, nuzzling his tusked face against her neck and kissing every inch of her that he could reach.

“Careful, Vhorn,” you chuckled. “She’s still on the mend.”

Minna, still in her husband’s arms, had thanked you profusely, and her dark eyes had then slid to Will who was standing on the far side of the room, watching the display of affection between goblin and orc with fondness in his sharp features. The young half-goblin, it seemed, had an interest in horticulture and medicine, and had assigned himself as your apprentice since leaving the mines. He was staying with Erik and his enormous family, sleeping in the cosy attic room above their wood store, and he seemed to be slowly blossoming back to life under the boisterous minotaur family’s effervescent love. His tattoos still glowed blue and pained him from time to time, and you suspected he might need to travel to the city to see a mage about them one day, to make sure they were safe, but for now, he was content with a simple country life.

If only you could be.

Winter hit the forest hard that year, with storms tearing up old trees, and a flash flood ripping the great water wheel right off the side of the mill building downstream. As spring finally staggered in and the weather settled while the little flowers began to poke their noses up through the layers of fallen leaves, the whole town pulled together to get everyone back on their feet. A new mill wheel was built, houses were repaired, and the people got back to living instead of just surviving. While you spent the cold season treating the flu and the flux, colds and agues - maintaining that a minotaur with a head cold was one of the most pathetic sights you’d ever seen - you felt increasingly empty inside.

You had come to accept that neither D nor Tenacity would come back to you. You guessed that D hadn’t survived, and that with nothing to tie her to this place any more, Ten had simply abandoned you. The pain of that was almost as unbearable as the thought of D being dead.

On the night of the spring equinox, during which the town celebrated the advancing season with drinking and dancing, you found yourself quietly alone in your little hut, reading by the fire. The tramp of several pairs of feet up the stairs and the stamp of a centaur’s hooves on the gravel outside, announced the arrival of a small and rather rowdy bunch of well-meaning friends, come to chivvy you out of your little dark corner and into the light of the approaching spring.

It was Kravik though who simply barged into your hut while the others - Erik, Will, Valka, Orin, Nuari, and Erik’s little brother Calum - all stood outside, laughing and stamping their feet against the lingering chill in the air.

“Oh no,” Kravik exclaimed melodramatically when he saw you bundled up in a shawl with your feet tucked up underneath you. “Oohhhh no. No, no, no. No you don’t,” he went on, shaking his head and waggling a long, knuckly finger at you. In a quieter and much more empathetic voice, he said, “You aren’t going to hear from them. It’s been months. You know you need to let him go.”

“I can’t, Krav,” you said. “I… I know we didn’t exactly make any promises to each other… But he… I don’t even know if he…”

“I know,” the little goblin said, covering the last few yards between you and putting his hand on your forearm. It’s colour wasn’t dissimilar to that of D’s skin, but where D’s hand had been big and powerful, ending in vicious, obsidian talons, Kravik's was skinny and light, but the touch of your friend was no less kind than D’s had been. “Come on, we’re taking you out. You’re not allowed to stay in and mope on equinox. You’ll bring bad luck and the blues on the whole town if you do.”

“I think we’ve had our fair share of bad luck for a lifetime,” you muttered darkly, but he cut you off with a hushing gesture.

“Don’t say that!” he yipped playfully. “Now you’ve got to come before you jinx everything. Come on, get up and get your fancy dancing clothes on.” Conspiratorially, he leaned in and said, “Orin would like it if you came dancing…”

“I bet he would,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “He’d like to dance with anything in a skirt.”

“Ah, come now,” Kravik laughed, stepping back as you got to your feet with a grunt. “That’s not true. He’s just… He… He just… appreciates a…”

You cocked an eyebrow. “A good woman when he sees one? Shut up, Kravik,” you laughed. “And let this particularly good woman get dressed.”

“Yes!” he said, pumping his fist in the air in triumph. You shook your head as he scuttled back outside and hollered, “She’s coming!” and was met with a chorus of cheers.

Ah, they were a good group of friends. And despite your heartache, you did find yourself enjoying the evening.

A group of travelling musicians provided the entertainment, and the dancing even spilled out of the Highwayman’s Secret, the inn which stood on the main street through town. You and Kravik danced, as well as you and Erik, and Will, and even Nuari asked you for a dance, leaving his hunter on the bench talking to Orin and Valka. The banshee only used Sign, but she made herself understood well enough.

As you came back for one final dance with Kravik, he smiled up at you. “Pick me up,” he said at the end of it.

“What?”

“Pick me up. I wanna hug you, and I hate hugging your leg like some little dog.”

“Can I sit down?” you laughed, and he nodded. You made your way off the dance floor and eased yourself onto a comfortable bench. Kravik sprang up onto it and sank into your lap as he had used to do when the two of you were a bit younger. His arms snaked around your neck, and he leaned in close to whisper in your ear, “I’m so glad you came tonight.”

“Thanks for making me,” you replied, hugging him back.

The fierce intensity of his friendship suddenly shattered the calm in you, and the dam which had kept your emotions in check that night cracked and splintered. His bony spine beneath your palms was intimately familiar to you, and the lines of his body were an old comfort to you. He knew the shape of your soul the way no one else did, and tears suddenly welled up and you began to cry into his collar. Sobs wracked you as you sat there, wailing behind the cover of the music.

“I miss him so much,” you choked, and he held you all the fiercer for it, stroking your hair with his long fingers. “I miss him so much,” you said, over and over. “Justice,” you whispered, no longer speaking to Kravik. “Justice, I miss you.”

A moment later, an odd prickling ran all the way up your spine, making the hairs rise on the back of your neck, and you looked up sharply with a wheezing gasp, expecting to see someone standing close. A second cold shudder rippled right through you, and you stared blearily around, searching for the cause of your unease.

“You alright?” Kravik asked, pulling back. “You look like you’re going to pass out… Come on, let’s get some air.” With that, he clambered off your lap and held his hand out to help you to your feet.

Erik was outside with Orin when you two emerged, and when they saw the pink in your eyes, and with an exchanged look, Orin asked, “Want some company?”

“Sure,” you sniffed, and the small group of you wandered through the chilly spring night, heading gradually back to your cabin the way a compass needle points north. The dark outline of Nuari loomed out of the night, coming back from walking his partner home, and when you asked why he hadn’t stayed, he flattened his ears and growled, “Argument.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

He shrugged. “We’ll be alright. I hope. Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, and the gnoll slipped into place between you and Erik, who was none-too-steady on his hooves.

As the noise of the festivities faded behind you, and the sounds of the night reached prevailed on the susurrating breeze, you let out a deep sigh and found your eyes unfocusing.

“You alright?” Orin asked after a little while, pulling his long, dark brown ponytail forward over one shoulder and fiddling with it. “You’re not angry we made you come out, are you?”

You looked up at him and shook your head, smiling, despite your roiling emotions. “No, Orin, I’m not angry. I had a wonderful time, and you’re all very thoughtful. Thank you.”

His huge shoulders slumped in relief and the thick woollen jumper he was wearing over his human torso sagged under the motion.

“You really didn’t have to escort me home, though,” you added. “I could have walked fine alone.”

“Erik’s had way too much to drink, so he needs to walk it off,” Orin commented, giving the minotaur a playful shove and making him stagger so far that he nearly flattened Nuari, you, and Kravik. The gnoll dodged and snatched you out of the way, and little goblin barely leapt back with an indigent shriek in time. Orin clopped forwards to catch the tilting minotaur before he fell flat on his face.

“It’sss true,” Erik slurred. “Sorry. I normally don’t drink coz of looking after mama and the others, but tonight Orin said I should so I did and now the world is all over the place.”

“No, that’s just you,” Kravik grumbled. “Orin, why did you have to get him so drunk?”

The centaur laughed. “It’s not like I meant to get him this sozzled… He did that all on his own!”

“Can’t you just sling him over your back and take him home?” Kravik added sourly.

“And face the fury of a minotaur mama for my efforts?” Orin chuckled. “No thank you! Like I said, he can walk it off a bit first.”

You were all laughing as you came around the bend in the road that led to your hut, set slightly apart from the town and separated by a stand of pine trees and a little meadow, but the laughter died in your throat at the sight that greeted you there.

Standing patiently outside your house was a very familiar black horse.

“Midnight?” you gasped, eyes going wide, feet stalling.

Kravik murmured your name and laid his hand on you to steady you. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

Nuari began to growl and instinctively dropped to all fours, hackles raised. Your hand shot out and landed on his furry shoulder to reassure him. “No,” you whispered. “No, it’s fine. Really. It’s fine.” You turned to look at Kravik, knowing your face was a picture of wonder and disbelieve. “Krav, it’s him!”

Nuari twitched beneath your hand and you flinched back to stare at the cabin. It was unmistakable: D was walking down the steps of your hut.

He froze when he noticed the small party all staring at him, clearly wondering if he still had time to use his innate dullahan magic and disappear.

“What the hell is that?” Orin breathed, shuffling his hooves nervously.

“Whassswat?” Erik scowled vaguely. “I don’t see anything.”

Nuari was still growling. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s… It’s…” Your tongue stalled. You saw two options ahead of you. You could lie to your friends; tell them it was nothing and say you’d like to go back to the town and give D a chance to get away, or you could forget them entirely and run to him.

You’d never felt so torn. Dullahans were secretive, and often payed vicious vengeance on those who stared too long at them, and D was still standing there motionless. When Midnight noticed you, she reared and screamed a neigh into the night. D startled at the sudden sound and went to her, patting her neck.

Then your heart dropped as he stepped into the stirrup and swung up onto her back. He reined the horse around, ignoring her snorting and head shaking, and nudged her into a slow walk down the road away from you.

“D?” you hissed.

“A messenger?” Orin asked. “That didn’t look right though… something was… off about them.”

You didn’t know how much they had truly seen, after all, Tenacity had disguised herself successfully as a human being and had been granted access to the mayor’s house.

D and Midnight were disappearing into the shadows of the forest.

Your breathing quickened. You glanced down at Kravik and he nodded at you.

You made your decision.

______________

Hope you enjoyed Part Eleven! Don’t forget that the whole reason I’m doing this story is for you to get involved in the telling of a story here on my blog. It’s a thank you for helping me reach 3000 followers, and it only works if you get involved and vote! If you liked this part, don’t forget to leave me a like, comment, and/or reblog/inbox. You have no idea how happy that makes authors and creators like me, and it makes all of this worthwhile.

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Part Twelve

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[blustersquall]

Hey! If you’re taking requests at the moment and can find a way to fit it into your canon, I would absolutely love to see Arthur and Isabel’s first “I love you” 💛

Sorry this took a while for me to get to! It’s been a weird few days! I hope it is satisfactory. This takes place... during Chapter 6 at Beaver Hollow. I did a lot of random quests and a lot of hunting during Chapter 6 because everything was going to shit and I wanted Arthur to have some relax time.

Admittedly this is a bit out of the blue, but it works for them. I think. >.>

@rdr-oc-appreciation @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread

It would be at least another day, if not more, before Arthur and Isabel reached Van Horn. Not that there was any pressing matter pushing them in that direction, but a decent bed and a bath were definitely two things that would not go amiss, after about five days of camping and travel on horse back. 

Arthur knew they would make better time if they pushed the horses faster, but given they were both on the look out for orchids for Algernon Wasp, their pace was slow but the pay off would make up for it. 

He was becoming quite good at recognizing the different orchids Algernon requested, and going by the small cluster they had already, Arthur reasoned another two or three and they would have the amount requested. Juno and Valkyrie were hitched about twenty paces away, down a small hill while Arthur used his hunting knife to gently ease an orange bloomed flower from the trunk of a tree. He would look for more, while Isabel tracked whatever creature had caused her to halt them in the first place. 

As he slipped a flower into his satchel, there was a crack of a twig behind him and Arthur span on his heel, reaching down for the gun in his holster. He was met with a gun barrel pointing directly at his face. Behind the gun, was a man, short but suited, a bowler hat on his ginger hair. 

Pinkertons? Arthur realised. Alarmed, he glanced around behind the man for a sign of Isabel and saw nothing. 

“Can’t believe my luck!” the man said, pressing his thumb down on the hammer of his pistol. “When that drunk in the saloon said they saw Arthur Morgan pass through Annesburg, I didn’t believe it. But here you are,” he gestured, laughing to himself. “In the flesh.”

“An’ you are?”

“Agent Stephens.” He reached for the gun in Arthur’s hip holster and tossed it to the side about ten feet away. He did the same with the gun in his off-hand holster. Both guns lay in the dirt, out of reach. “Turn around, Mr Morgan. You’re worth more to me alive, than dead.”

“You don’t wanna be doin’ this...” Arthur growled. He glanced over the man before him, looking for a weakness. He was shaking a little, from fear or from excitement - it was hard to tell. The hand holding the gun was shaking. One false move and Agent Stephens looked prone to pulling the trigger. That meant Arthur couldn’t attack him. He wouldn’t be able to get a punch off quick enough. He wasn’t stupid. If he moved in a way that was too fast, or looked aggressive he knew he would wind up with a bullet between his eyes. 

“Turn around, Mr Morgan.” Agent Stephens repeated, his voice steady despite the trembling of his hand. 

Slowly, Arthur lifted both hands and began to turn so his back was to the Pinkerton. It occurred to Arthur how strange it was that the Agent was alone. Agent Milton was always flanked by Agent Ross. 

“Where’s yer partner?” asked Arthur, trying to engage in conversation while trying to think of a way to get out of this predicament. With his guns away from him at both sides he was at a disadvantage. He could grab his hunting knife and plunge it into Agent Stephens gut if he acted fast enough. But that would require retrieving the knife from his belt, and doing that would undoubtedly give away to Stephens his plan. 

“Shut up.” Stephans nudged the barrel of his gun into the back of Arthur’s head. Arthur grimaced, gritting his teeth. He wouldn’t go down like this. Not peaceful and quiet like this. “Lower your hands slowly.” Arthur did as he was told, lowering his hands a little at a time. Behind him, he heard the jangle of metal. 

Shackles. 

Cold metal closed around one of Arthur’s wrists. His heart was racing as fast as his mind. How could he have been caught unawares like this? After everything he was taught and told? How could he have let his guard down to be caught by some bumbling idiot who had probably never held a gun before, let alone shot one. 

“I can’t wait to bring you into Agent Milton,” Stephens said, speaking mostly to himself than to Arthur. “It’ll mean a promotion for me, for sure.”

Where was Isabel? Arthur hoped she was safe, perhaps she saw Stephens and ran to save her own skin. Not that Arthur would blame her. He didn’t want her getting involved or killed on his account. He wasn’t worth losing her life over. If she was safe, then that was fine. If she went back to Beaver Hollow and made it known what happened, then some members of the gang would come for him... Wouldn’t they?

Sadie and Charles, surely. John, he hoped so. Javier? ...Maybe. Dutch...? Dutch was so far removed from the man Arthur knew once upon a time, it was impossible to even try to imagine how he might act if Isabel alerted them all to his capture. 

The second shackle closed around Arthur’s other wrist. He clenched his hands. No plan formulated in his mind, and now with his hands bound like this, his options for escape were even less. He was tempted to whistle for Juno. She could charge Agent Stephens, trample him under her hooves... But he didn’t want to risk Stephens firing off and killing his horse. 

“Get moving, Mr Morgan.” Agent Stephens smacked the back of Arthur’s head with his gun. “No sudden moves. No back talk, y’hear?”

“Yea, yea, I hear ya.” Arthur replied, wearily. He took a heavy step, his foot sinking into the soft soil on the hillside. 

“HEY!”

Isabel’s voice came from above. Both Arthur and Agent Stephens looked up and there she was perched on a tree branch, bow string pulled back, arrow nocked. Before the Stephens could get off a shot, Isabel loosed the arrow. It whistled through the air piercing through Stephen’s right eye and out the back of his head with a sickening crack. Agent Stephens gave a gasp of shock, the gun fell from his hand, and his body followed, dropping and rolling down the hill. 

As Arthur found his voice, he turned his gaze back to Isabel. “When did you get up there?” he asked, watching her finding hand and foot holds and making her way down. 

“When he was puttin’ the shackles on you.” Isabel replied. She jumped the last ten or so feet from a branch onto the ground. “He was congratulatin’ ‘imself so much he didn’t hear a damn thing.” She went to Stephens body on the ground and dug through his pockets. Once she had the keys to the shackles, she went to Arthur. “You okay?” she asked once his hands were freed and the shackles were on the ground. “That was a nasty smack on the head...”

“I had worse.” Arthur offered her a wry smile. One Isabel returned, shifting her weight from one side to the other. “I was thinkin’ you mighta run off.” Arthur said, looping his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans. “I wouldn’t have blamed you... if you had. Better t’save yer own skin, than risk yerself for me.”

“Arthur,” Isabel gave him a slightly withering look before sliding her hands along the lapels of his jacket, flattening the material to his chest. “You got me, Mr Morgan. I love you. I ain’t goin’ no where.”

She kissed him, but Arthur found himself unable to fully enjoy or reciprocate. His eyes were stuck open and his lungs were empty. She... loved him? Is that what she said? She loved him? Was she serious? He didn’t think he would hear those sentiments from someone... ever again after Mary. He never thought anyone would feel that way about him again. Especially not now with his illness...

But Isabel... she loved him? And she said it with no mirth, and no tone of mocking. She was sincere... At least, sounded sincere. She was earnest and forthright and...

Oh God, she loved him.

“Arthur--”

“I love you,” he blurted out, blinking hard at the confusion and worry on Isabel’s face. Immediately, he grimaced, squeezing his eyes closed and inwardly cursing. “I... I mean...” He searched for a way to fix his uncouth confession, but after a few seconds and bereft of inspiration, he sighed, turned and marched himself towards one of the guns Agent Stephens had thrown to the side. He took his time retrieving it, cleaning it of dirt and examining it for damage, glancing back to see Isabel collecting the other handgun. 

He went to where Juno and Valkyrie were standing. Nearby was Agent Stephens body. Arthur began to kick leaf litter and the fallen foliage over his corpse in the hopes it might hide him from passers by. Or, at the very least, by he and Isabel some time while they left this area. If they were lucky, perhaps some hungry wolves or a hungry cougar would happen upon Agent Stephens and the world would forever wonder what happened to the upstart Pinkerton agent. 

Isabel joined him. She picked up bundles of leaves and fronds of ferns, tossing them onto the body. When Arthur was satisfied it was mostly covered, he tossed some slabs of meat used for baiting carnivorous creatures onto the heap. The scent would attract them faster. 

After she handed him his gun and Arthur had it securely holstered, he unhitched Juno and started to lead here away from the scene. Isabel caught up to him, leading Valkyrie by her reins. When Isabel took his hand, sliding her fingers between his, Arthur did not resist. They walked in silence through the trees a few minutes, following the path through the forest.

“Did you mean it?” asked Isabel, her eyes fixed forward.

Arthur did not need to ask what she was referring to. He nodded, “yes.”

Isabel smiled, “me too.”

I don’t hate this ending!Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know in comments/reblogs/tag flailing!Feedback feeds writers, you guys!

[comawrites-gone]

With No Resistance: Fever Dream

UHHHHsuh yall, back at it again with another fic. I’m going to keep this note short, as this is already HELLA LONG. At least, longer than the others I’ve written.

next

Summary: Marvin contracts an alliance-shifting poison, only to find it was all a bad dream.

Warnings: Knives, blood, mention of poison.

Marvin’s breath was deep and heavy as he tried to keep himself in a sprint. Whatever foul creature (if it was even a creature) was chasing him was just behind, licking his heels. The magician rounded the corner sharply and flung a weakened ball of pure energy at his assailant. The spell lunged into the darkness, but it seemed to have been swallowed into oblivion.

The hallway seemed unending, but he could tell he was approaching a room as soft music echoed off the walls. Seconds past before a dark wooden door appeared, interrupting the red-and-black checkered wallpaper. Marvin skidded on his already aching heels and flung open the door. The door slammed behind him, immediately followed by a deep rumbling in the hallway. Marvin stopped and slumped against the door, catching his breath. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he got here, but he knew he had to get out.

Marvin sighed and looked around his safe haven. It appeared to be some sort of study, with a desk against the left wall and ornate glass cases covering the back wall. There were paintings on the wall, but the room was too dimly lit to tell what they depicted. In the middle stood a low-standing coffee table, surrounded by plush red and wooden chairs. There were various objects scattered about the surface of the table. Although he could easily hear the lullaby-esque music, he couldn’t pin down its source.

“Lux,” the magician whispered, raising his hand to shoulder-level. His fingertips crackled with magic, and a little ball of pale light grew over his index finger. It wasn’t much to illuminate the room, but he didn’t need too much to search around the room.

Marvin approached the table first. Books of varying sizes were littered about and Marvin was surprised to have recognized all the titles. Books about casting illusions and manipulating the elements, among others. The magician pulled himself away from the table, resisting the urge to sit down and leaf through the pages.

The desk was next. In the center stood an old, rusty typewriter with a paper in the platen, Marvin brought his light closer to read whatever was printed.

“I CAN’T DO THIS, I CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS. NOTHING I DO IS WORKING, AND HE’S GETTING WORSE BY THE DAY. I JUST NEED MORE...” the paper read. Whoever wrote this was suddenly cut off mid-sentence. Marvin couldn’t shake the feeling that all of this was familiar.

A dark, unforgiving presence suddenly crawled up Marvin’s spine and he whipped around, hard bile rising in his throat.

“Who’s there!” Marvin snapped, preparing one of the most powerful fire spells he knew. A ball of bright green fire swirled in his palms.

A figure sauntered out from the shadows, his hands clasped together behind his back. He wore a face all too familiar to the magician, but it seemed to twist into a smile impossible for a human to make. His clothes seemed to be made out of shadows itself, and a long, dark gash traveled across the front of his neck, blood staining his skin.

Anti.

“You led quite the c̢h͠ase̶.” The demon mused, staring at Marvin with a hungry expression. His voice sounded as if he was talking through a whirring fan, running chills down Marvin’s spine. “Were you in track whe̛n ͏y̡ou were in high school?”

Marvin growled and flung his arm forward with all his strength, sending his fireball spell flying toward the glitch’s face. As soon as the fireball came close enough, Anti tilted his head, letting the spell singe his ear and burning into the painting behind him.

“Oh come now, why̢ só hostile? Can’t we just talk?”

Marvin took a defensive stance and readied another spell, his fingertips crackling with magic. “What the fuck do you want, asshole.” the magician barked back, his words sounding more like a statement than a question. His legs trembled and his heart pounded in his chest, and he hoped Anti didn’t notice.

Anti seemed unaffected by Marvin’s tough guy attitude. “Language, kitten. Before I m̶a̷k͡e you wash your mou̡th̶ ͢òut̵ with soap.” Marvin’s skin crawled with the threat and his magic faltered with his anxiety.

“You don’t scare me, idiot.” Marvin lied, hoping he wouldn’t notice his voice shaking. By the look of Anti’s smug grin, he most certainly noticed.

“Ỳo͟u͘ ̧k̵no͠w,͝ it’s not very g͞o͘o͢d͘ to l̡͜iè̀̕.̷͘.”Anti’s smile grew sinister as he stepped closer.

With lightning fast speed, the demon flung a small throwing knife directly at Marvin’s chest. With luck or skill, he didn’t know, Marvin managed to move out of the way, but not quick enough. The knife lodged itself deep into Marvin’s right bicep. It took all his will to keep his pained screams inside, and he immediately returned fire with a stream of purple lightning, aimed towards Anti’s chest.

Marvin didn’t wait to see if his spell made contact as he made a shot towards the door. He whispered a spell under his breath and he jumped, phasing through the door like a ghost. It was a stupid idea, Marvin knew you can’t just flee from something like Anti. His arm screamed in agonizing pain, but he ignored it and dashed down the hallway.

Anti’s voice echoed off the walls, though it sounded as if he was everywhere at once. “You know, I didn’t wan̢t t̶o̸ ̨h́u͡r̷t you!” he exclaimed, his copied voice sounding almost apologetic. “I wanted to of̡fe̷r you an alliance.”

Marvin stopped at the end of the hallway and looked around frantically. There was a doorway to his left, leading to what looked like a den. He made a split decision and dashed into the room, hiding under a nearby table.

“Y̴our b̨rot̷hȩrs ̶a͢re͢ keeping you from your tŗu͞e potential! They’re wasting yo̵ur ͜abìl̴i͘ties and you know it.” The demon called out, his voice coming closer and closer to his hiding spot.

Marvin rolled his eyes and grabbed the knife lodged his arm. Without a second thought, he yanked it out, using all his self-control not to scream. The sleeve to his white button-up became soaked with blood, sticking to his arm.

“Bullshit,” Marvin protested, throwing the knife far away from him. His voice became weak and guttural as he tried to stave off the pain. “I would never join you, you sick bastard.”

The sound of a tongue clicking echoed off the walls. “See, kitten, that’s where you’re wrong.” Anti’s voice now sounded as if he was in the same room.

“The thing is, you have absolutely n҉o̷ ̷say in what you do now. That little gift I so graciously gave you? Laced with my special little po̢ìso̕n. In due time, it will make you do ̀eve͢ŕy͝ l̶ittle̵ thing I ask.” The demon paused, obviously proud of himself. “I am a ͠p̢ưpp̨e͏tee̕r and you, my dear, are my little pupp͠e̸t͞.”

Anti gave a little chuckle. “A bit poeti͞c̵, is it not? Turning a brother on ͝his̷ ͜ow̨n͠,̸, with absolutely no ͏res̕i͢st̡an̷ce?”

Marvin didn’t want to believe him. It was just another lie, like everything else this freak says. But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but listen to him.

From under his hiding spot, he could see the glitch pass by, as if he was gliding across the carpet. He held his breath, trying to summon whatever magic he had left.

“All you nȩed͡to do...” Anti started, his feet turning towards the table Marvin was under. The magician could feel bile rise up in his throat, his hands shaking and tears threatening to fall. He closed his eyes and prayed to whatever higher power there was, anybody, for someone to save him. Suddenly, a horrifying contortion of a face jumped into his view, eyes black and lips curving up in an impossible smile.

 “... is ͢͠Ẃ̴A̛͠͠K̵̛E͞ U͟P.”

-

Marvin hit the floor, hard. His vision was blurred with sleep and he was overcome with frantic confusion. A concerned voice slammed into his head.

“Marvin, wake up!” the voice cried, a hand on the magician’s back. Marvin snapped around to see who was disturbing him.

It was Henrik, panic plastered on his face. The sight of his brother’s scruffy face allowed Marvin a moment to calm down. His eyes spun around his surroundings. He was in his room, his sheets a mess and sunlight bleeding onto his sweat covered face.

“Y-yeah, I’m up, I’m up.” Marvin waved his brother off of him and sat up, his breathing heavy.

“You were screaming nonsense in your sleep,” Henrik explained. “When I tried to wake you up, you threw yourself out of your bed.”

Marvin felt his face flush. He didn’t want to explain his nightmare to his brother; it would just cause him to panic. He thought fast to come up with a response.

“Uh, sorry. Fever dream, I guess.”

Henrik cocked a suspicious eyebrow, backing up to give him some space. “Well… alright. You were feeling a little ill last night, so that would make sense.” He offered Marvin a hand to help him up.

“That’s me,” Marvin started, smiling his normal dopey smile. Marvin swung his right arm and grabbed Henrik’s forearm. “Always getting si--”

A sharp, burning pain throbbed all through Marvin’s arm, cutting his words off and making him recoil. Henrik backed up, shocked.

“What the fuck was that?!” the student exclaimed.

Marvin winced, holding his bicep. “I-I don’t…”

Tell him it was workout pains.

Marvin blinked, surprised by his own thoughts. That was his own thought, wasn’t it? Of course, why wouldn’t it be? It felt like him, but something was missing. He pushed his concerns away and stood up, albeit a bit wobbly on the way up.

“Workout pains,” he said plainly, looking at Henrik in the eyes. His brother stared at him with slight curiosity.

“You started working out?” Henrik asked.

Marvin laughed and patted his shoulder with his left hand. “Yeah, and it looks like you should consider it too.”

Henrik slapped his hand away and huffed. With that, the two made their way to the kitchen for breakfast.

[neganandblake]

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 17- Trapped

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she's certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit…

Chapter 17

Blake's heart thudded in her chest as she scrambled backwards, knife raised.

Through the gloom she could just make out the five walkers, advancing on her hurriedly down the narrow corridor…in between her and the way out.

Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she jabbed at the nearest figure.

But it was quicker than she had thought, and staggered towards her, arms raised.

Blake jumped backwards, not wanting to try a door to another room, in case more walkers emerged.

Fuck…what was she going to do?

She felt herself beginning to panic now.

Her heart was pounding a drumbeat inside of her ribcage, her breaths now coming quick and ragged inside her chest.

She had been in some sticky situations before now…but nothing like this.

There had always been a way out. Always.

A female walker leered over at her, snapping its wide-jaws terrifyingly.

But Blake gave her a shove, suddenly sending her, and another walker, sprawling backwards like bowling pins.

But this was nowhere near over yet.

She felt frightened. More frightened than she had done in a long, long time…here in the dark. Alone.

Blake took a hurried step back, as another of the dead launched itself at her, its fingers trying to tear at her face….. but Blake sent her blade hurriedly flying through its skull.

Although that was just a small win, as the other three walkers snarled and groaned at her, their rotten hands snatching at her wildly, as she quickly tried to retract the blade.

One of the dead figures bit at her, missing her hand by mere inches…

She felt scared. Really scared. Trapped like a rabbit in the headlights.

She could barely see the walkers to fight them off, here in the darkness. So her only chance of survival was escape.

Blake's eye darted this way and that, trying as hard as she could to figure out a way of getting out…but it was impossible….

"Help!" she cried loudly, hoping the Saviours would hear her cries. "HELP, PLEASE!"

But her shouts only caused to provoke the walkers more….as they moaned ever-louder, advancing on her with snapping teeth….

But there was nowhere for Blake to go….

Apart from the door that led back out to the warehouse. She was trapped….right?

But Blake breathed hard.

The red door.

She spun around, running as fast as she could towards the opposite end of the corridor…to where the red door stood….

Just beneath it, she could see a small crack of pale light streaming through.

The door led to the outside. It had to.

This was it….this was her chance to escape!

She moved over to it quickly….turning the handle …hearing the dead shifting ever closer….

But the door, to Blake's utter dismay, was shut fast.

"No, no, no, no.." she cried, with desperate crying breaths, as tears began to slip from her eyes before she could stop them. She knew that this now might be the end. "Please, please…..no."

She pushed as hard as she could, shoving her shoulder against the door, a sob inside her chest…but it wouldn't budge.

She turned to see the walkers just a couple of feet away.

This was it.

She could try and attack one of them, but in the low light and small-spaced corridor, there was little chance of her survival.

This was the end for her.

Blake let out an uncontrollable sob, clutching at her mouth with one shaking hand, raising her knife with the other….

So, so frightened….leaning back against the door…with no way out….

But as she winced, taking in a sharp breath, waiting for death….she, all of a sudden, found herself toppling backwards into the pale bright light….as rain and gunshots fell suddenly all around her.

She hit the asphalt beneath her hard, landing on her ass.

Blake, shaking from top to bottom, looked up, bracing herself, to see Negan and his eight Saviours standing there, three of them shooting at the dead….who each collapsed to the ground before they could make a grab for her.

She had never felt anything like this in her life….she was shaking like a leaf…her face wet through a combination of tears and the constant falling rain, which was currently soaking through her blue shirt and indigo jeans.

She looked back at the walkers…lying there, no longer a threat to her anymore.

But the terrifying fear was still there.

The panic.

The shellshock.

But as she breathed hard, she felt a sudden figure come up beside her…

….and Blake glanced up, to see the tall and rain-soaked Negan standing there, a smirk lingering across his smug features.

He reached out a hand towards her.

"I'm impressed," he uttered. "Although I thought you might have taken out a couple more of those sorry fucks, before we rescued you.."

Blake sat there or a moment on the cold wet ground, her chest rising and falling rapidly just staring up at him.

She didn't understand.

"Sorry we had to shut you in like that, Doll-face," murmured the Saviour easily. "But you did good."

But at this…at his comment, Blake's heart seemed to stop.

What had he just said?

Blake tensed her fist around the knife in her hand.

"What?" she managed to mutter in a deadly tone.

But Negan just arched his back lazily, his hand still held out towards her.

"Doll," he muttered with a sorry sort of smile, shaking his head. "I just needed to prove to you, that you are a queen that don't need help from any fucking son-of-a-bitch here. An' I mean, I was sorta right. Apart from right at the end, of course."

But Blake's eyes blackened, as she scrambled to her feet, not bothering to take his hand.

She was seething, her chest heaving with every breath she took.

She glared back at Negan, pointing at him with her free hand, and throwing her knife to the ground.

"You almost just got me killed just to prove a fucking point?!" she said in a high-pitched, incredulous voice. "You're an asshole! A fucking asshole!"

She could feel her blood boiling, tears still spilling their way down her cheeks, masked by the falling rain.

How could he do this to her? Shut her in like that? Almost get her killed, torn to shreds by walkers.

But Negan took a step towards her, his face suddenly becoming dark and unreadable.

He now looked like the dangerous man she had heard about so often.

Negan bared his teeth, pointing back at her intimidatingly.

"An asshole trying to prove a fuckin' point that you don' fuckin' need a man that treats you like utter fuckin' shit, sweetheart!" he yelled back at her, his face grim.

Blake suddenly paled, stepping back slightly.

Did Negan know about David?

Blake's heart pounded within her ribcage…..as rain continued to fall all around them, deafeningly loudly.

"I have told you from the fuckin' beginning, Doll, that you are worth more than that, an' hell, you have survived out there, better than half these sorry sons-of-bitches would have," Negan uttered in a low growl pointing at his men, but keeping his dark eyes locked on Blake's green ones. "So don't you start givin' me your piece-of-shit excuses now, Doll-face. You're a fuckin' Queen, and you gotta remember that, when you're defending that spineless fuckin' asshole back there-"

But Blake was angry.

What the hell did Negan know about anything?

She wasn't taking this from him, standing here in the middle of nowhere surrounded by his men.

David wasn't spineless.

He loved her.

And Blake knew what she felt in return. What she had to feel.

"I love him," she uttered in a firm and steady voice through the rain, shaking her head and staring back at Negan angrily.

But Negan looked equally as angry as Blake felt, dragging a hand down his face irritably at her words for a brief moment, before pointing Lucille at her face.

"You fuckin' love that prick, Peaches, when all he does is treat you like shit. I mean, hell, the first time I saw you he was beatin' you upside the pretty face in front of all my men," Negan began, sounding furious. "And don't you dare fuckin' even begin to lie to me about where you got those fuckin' bruises."

Negan suddenly grabbed Blake's forearm tightly….with his free hand…but unlike David's grip there a few days ago…..his hold on her was strong but not painful…his fingers not digging into her skin like her fiancé's had.

"I ain't dumb, darlin'. I can fuckin see you've been grinded down by that stupid piece of utter shit, and made to feel like you ain't worth nothin'. But in your eyes that goddamn douchebag can do no fuckin' wrong."

Blake felt herself trembling within Negan's grasp, her chest rising and falling hard, as the rain fell around both of them.

She looked up in Negan's chocolate eyes that were full of anger and frustration.

"That's why I fuckin' went ahead and separated you from your asshole boyfriend who sold you the fuck out, for his own room and his chance to get a rub-down by Frankie each night," Negan finished, the corners of his mouth turned downwards. "And that's why I brought you out here and pushed you to your fuckin limits, Doll-face. 'Cause I know you are more than that."

But Blake tore her eyes from Negan's, looking down at his hand holding her arm tightly…

"He's my fiancé…" was all she could manage to utter in reply, her shoulders slumped dejectedly.

All Negan had said was true...she knew that…as tears slipped from her eyes, falling onto the rain sodden asphalt below.

But the tall, dark-haired man in front of her, tensed his jaw, his chocolate eyes roving across her features.

"Yeah, so you keep fuckin' sayin', sweetheart," said Negan with a sigh, finally letting go of her arm and placing his hand over his tired eyes for a brief moment. "But, hell, darlin'. I aint feelin' much fucking love in this goddamn relationship."

Blake peered up at him…this man she barely knew…breathing hard…but could not bring herself to say another word…..

For she knew that he could read her like a book.

But did he really know the true extent of David's actions?….His threats...his cruel words….

Or was this only guesswork? Negan joining up the pieces…

He didn't know about the months of mental and physical abuse back at Alexandria….or even the fact that David had come and seen her the other night….

But despite this, Blake felt something she had not felt in a long time…..and that was safe.

Standing here with the tall dark-haired leader of the Saviours…

This dangerous man.

Negan stared back at Blake….his eyes full of something words just weren't enough to say right now….but Blake needed him to say it….

But before she had any more time to dwell, the moment was gone….and Negan shouted back to his men through the pouring rain.

"Alright," he said arching his lean figure as he spoke. "Take the stuff and get back to base in the loaded up truck."

But he ran his tongue over his teeth, his eyes returning to hers, surveying Blake solidly, as rain fell onto his leather-clad shoulders.

"Me and Peaches here are goin' for a drive."

Blake blinked up at him through wet eyelashes, letting out an unsteady breath and giving a gulp.

Where was he intending to take her?

But she knew her questions would likely soon be answered, as Negan nodded over toward the truck they had come here in, as the other Saviours all loped off towards the other bigger vehicle.

For moment she didn't move, rooted to the spot in the ever-falling downpour, her green eyes flickering over to the truck she had arrived here in just an hour or two ago.

But Negan merely leaned in towards her, his lips brushing her caramel hair as he spoke, his hand gripping her upper arm lightly.

"Get in, Doll," he muttered commandingly.

And Blake, for once, did as she was told.

I hope you are all enjoying this story. Would you like me to keep posting on here? I have about 30 more chapters to upload that are currently written, so I can if you’d all like?

@yellatthetopofyourlungs @collette04 @shimmerybutt @attorneyl @daydreamsandchai @charoly @princessmoonspunky @mssharingisfun

[woozletania]

Just a temporary kidnapping (RR/Ravagers)

From an idea I had the other night: Rocket develops such a reputation as a mechanic that Ravager factions keep (politely) kidnapping him to fix their ships.

*****

Rocket swam up toward consciousness.  He very, very badly wanted not to, because between him and the light was a thick, greasy layer of pain.  Despite his best efforts he rose, into the pain, into light like daggers in his eyes.

“Aw man, my head.”  Gently he felt with his sensitive little hands, sure he'd find blood and brains leaking out.  Instead there was just the fur, his ears pressed back against the sides of his head where they only lay when he was very angry or very unhappy. He was sure that only the reinforcing plates in his skull kept it from splitting open. Cybernetic servos in his arms whined as he shifted on a soft surface, trying to find a comfortable spot. The pain and nausea made it impossible.

“You about awake over there?”

A voice, terribly loud.  He winced and covered his ears.  “Go 'way.”

“'Kay, I'll come back in an hour. Cup by your bed has some stuff the doc says 'll make ya feel better, you drink that when you can, 'kay?”

“Wait.”  He didn't know that voice, and that was a bad sign.  Without lifting himself from the bed he felt around until he found the cup. Incredibly sensitive clawed hands pulled it closer, feeling the pitted ceramic, and a nose fifty times as keen as a man's sniffed.

It didn't smell bad.  Not bitter. Spices, some alcohol, drugs.  He recognized the brew, or close enough: he'd been drunk enough times to know how to mix something like it himself.  Eyes still tightly closed against the piercing light he lapped up the spicy cocktail, for once not caring that someone saw him drinking like an animal.

There was an immediate sense of relief as the warmth of his mouth volatilized compounds to be absorbed through his sinuses.  The pain was still there, but fading.  He chanced opening an eye. What he saw when he got used to what turned out to be dim lighting wasn't promising.

He was stark naked, for one thing.  Well, except for the fur. The walls around the bed were great slabs of riveted alloy. Overhead was an equally thick slab of armorglass with lighting elements above that.  Thankfully only one of nine elements was lit.

As he recovered from the hangover his ears began to work properly and he registered the hum of distant engines.  He was on a ship, then, and not one he'd even been on before.

“There ya go. Good for what ails ya, right?”

He didn't feel like puking anymore either.  He still wasn't happy when he rolled over. The room turned out to be about three by four meters, with a series of tridee screens on one wall behind a sheet of armorglass almost as thick as the one on the ceiling. There was a little relief station, the old flushing mechanical type without so much as a single indicator light, and an armored door three times as tall as he was. Sitting in a bolted-down alloy frame chair was a yellow-skinned biped.

Yellow skin, scars, that red outfit, the Ravager symbol like a leaf with seven upward-pointing thorns. He'd seen enough Ravagers now, from Yondu and his crew to Kraglin to Stakarr and the other high mucky-mucks he'd called to tell about Yondu's death to recognize a captain's insignia.

“Aw man.  Here we go again, huh?”  Rocket's fangs came out and his ears went back. “Lemme guess.  I can hear your ship's out of whack from here, there's a crack in one of your drive crystals and you got problems with life support too, from the smell.  An' I'm supposed to fix it all like a good little slave, right?”

“You ain't a slave,” the man said calmly.  “I'm Cap'n Triger, an' this rust bucket is the Violent Lady.  Lemme tell ya how it's gonna be.”

“I ain't gonna join your crew,” Rocket snarled. “Fix your own damn ship.”

Triger stood. “Outside this door is a locked corridor with four a' my toughest in it.  Unarmed.  Not even a knife.  Nothin' you can take and kill us with, just five big Ravagers and a hall you won't get out of even if you beat us.  Now I'm gonna go out this door.  You got two choices, okay?  You can stay in here,” he gestured at the armored walls, “Watch some videos.  We slide food in though this slot.  In a week we let ya go back to yer friends. I even got ya a comfy bed after I heard the kind ya like.”

Rocket realized he was sitting in a round, padded bed, bigger than the pet bed Quill got him but almost as comfortable.  It was obviously meant for an animal, but as long as the Ravager didn't say anything about that he could handle it.  And the Ravager didn't.

“So you can stay here for a week.  Pretty borin' though.  Or.”

“Or?”

“Or you can take over a work crew I assign ya.  Make 'em do whatever ya want.  I bet you like that idea.  Tinker with stuff.  Doesn't have ta be the drive, but I wouldn't complain.  An' in a week we still let ya go, only richer.”

Rocket's eyes narrowed.  “How much richer?”

“Five thousand Units.  Ten if you get the drives workin' right.  I hear you're good with drives.”

“You drugged me and kidnapped me just to work on your ship?”

“Din' take much, drunk as you were.  But lemme make this clear.”  Triger raised one finger, thick with rings.  Not gaudy, jeweled ones, but hard, metallic, spiky ones.  Fighting rings, bolted to his fingers.  “I ain't gonna try to make you do this.  You wanna just sit in this room, ya can.  You get let go either way.  After what happened to cap'n Sharktooth and the Superb Nova I ain't gonna try to make you do anythin'.  But I'll pay ya to.”

“What's a Superb Nova?”

Triger grinned. His filed, sharp-pointed teeth reminded Rocket eerily of Yondu.  “You can say you don't know why Sharktooth's ship blew up after you escaped.  But don't try to tell me you don't know the ship.  Talked to Shark and he had this great idea, kidnap you and make you use your smart little hands on his ship. Didn't work out so well for him, did it?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Sure ya don't. So, what's it gonna be?  Watch some screens for a week or get paid?”

Rocket looked around the room.  Now that he had recovered he noted the complete absence of tech.  Not one button, no junction boxes.  Just hard alloy and armorglass.  He was good at getting out of cells, very good indeed, but this one?  It was a metal box.  Someone had finally worked out that the way to keep his hands out of the tech was simply not to have any in his cell. There were signs that the armorglass was hastily, but competently installed, and recently, to keep him out of the tridee screens and even the overhead lights.  They'd modified the cell just for him.  It was almost flattering.

Now, he did still have a trick or two if they hadn't scanned him too thoroughly, but...

“How do I know you'll let me go?”

“B'cause a two things. First, yer friends are already looking for ya.  We're way out on the Rim and it'll take 'em a while, but I don't want to make an enemy of that green skinned lady.  Y'know the one.  Daughter a Thanos. I don't need her or the Destroyer or an angry tree comin' after me for revenge.”

“And the other thing?”

“You got friends in high places,” Triger pulled out a bundle of clothing that'd been pressed between his back and the metal chair and tossed it to Rocket. The color and material told him what it was before it started to unroll: a Rocket-sized Ravager uniform.  “You called us to the funeral.  We haven't forgotten.  You prolly think we're all assholes, but we don't forget things like that.  Weren't for you we wouldn't have known 'bout Yondu.”

“Yeah.” Rocket looked away.  Darn his soft heart.  He teared up too easily, always had.

“So you're an honorary Ravager.  'Less you do something stupid, you're as safe here as you are on that old Ravager fighter Star-Prince flies.”

“Star Munch,” Rocket said automatically.

“Oh yeah, I knew it were something like that. So, what're ya gonna do with your week?”

“All right,” Triger roared a few minutes later to the assembled crew.  They were as motley an assortment of aliens as Yondu's old crew, but almost all recognizably humanoid.  Rocket knew there were species so strange that he and Triger were peas in a pod by comparison, but it was normally like this: Him and a room full of big bald bodies, all staring at him and talking.

“Simmer down!” the captain roared, and gradually the uproar in the room quieted. “You listen close, y'hear.  This here's Rocket.  For the next seven days you, Braal,” he pointed at a grease-stained Shi'ar, “Yer working for him, and yer whole engineerin' crew too.  He says jump, you ask how high. Anybody else he needs, you're workin' for him too. An' I better not hear that you didn't.”

The chief engineer was brave enough to speak up.  Rocket had to respect him for that. “Cap'n, we got it under control.”

“No ya don't Braal.  You know well as I do you got this ship patched together.  We got Kree drives, half the hull is Skrull and we're not sure part of it isn't actually skrulls, and those two bits are still fightin' the last Kree-Skrull War. Then we got that computer core from that wrecked Badoon cruiser and that's not countin' the Shi'ar and Rigellian bits.  Whole ship's fightin' itself and you know it. An' I hear tell this little guy is the best tinkerer anyone's ever seen.”

“One week!” roared the captain. He carried on haranguing the crew but Rocket wasn't listening.  All these disparate parts working together?  How were the interfaces working at all?  His little clawed hands itched to get into the circuits and see how they had it wired together.  Triger should have led with that.  He would have done it for free.

Well, not free. But cheaper. And then there was the other thing.

The chief engineer approached and Rocket shook his hand.  “I can't wait to see how you got all this tech working together. You must have a hell of a team.”

The Shi'ar blinked, as astonished as Quill or the rest of the Guardians would be by Rocket's respectful tone.  “I look forward to any help you can give us,” the engineer said. His expression said maybe this won't be so bad after all.

But at the same time Rocket was looking the rest of the crew over. So many pirates, Ravagers, assholes.  Some he could work with, he was sure. But a whole lot of them looking down their noses or assorted facial appendages at the little freak.  And all of them ordered to do what he wanted?

He foresaw a pressing need for crewmen to muck out the ship's sanitation system, to squeeze through vents. To form human pyramids so he could get at high bits of work.  And an awful lot of them had tasty cybernetics bits or metal implants he just knew would be needed for repairs.  A lot of them were going to be hopping, squinting, or gumming their food very soon.

Rocket allowed himself a polite smile, but repressed the urge to rub his hands together and grin.  This was going to be fun.

[megsblackfirewrites]

My Old Hunting Partner: Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jack’s hands were shaking as he loaded his hunting rifle into his duffle bag. Hell. How had Gabriel gotten himself dragged down into Hell? He’d never been punished that severely before and Gabriel had done some truly terrible things to humanity on his hunts before he and Jack became partners. Never, in all his years working with Gabriel, had he ever witnessed the Hellguard capturing their own to lock down in Hell for punishment. He had to save Gabriel before he slipped any further into madness and forgot who he was.

Not that Gabriel had any reason to believe Jack. He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. Gabriel probably hated him before he lost his mind. Hated him for retiring, hating him for not following Gabriel, hated him for not making him stay. Not that he could have made Gabriel do anything he didn’t want to do. There was no controlling Gabriel. If he had his mind set on something, you hung on and hoped he didn’t throw you off in the process.

“Gabe,” he whispered as he pushed his fingers through his hair. “I’m so sorry.”

The silence was deafening around him. It always had been. He’d started a car repair shop because he had hoped the noise would keep the worst of the silence at bay. It worked great during the day when he was working. But at night, in his home, with only his breathing to keep him company, Jack was overwhelmed.

He’d never realized how much he hated silence until after Gabriel left. Suddenly, not having someone to talk to, to laugh with, and listen to their heart beating in the middle of the night was impossible to deal with. He had a medicine cabinet full of sleep-aids for the nights where he wanted to start screaming just to break the silence. Like right that moment; he needed something to break the silence with. Something that didn’t involve him screaming until he started vomiting blood.

He swallowed and glanced at his phone. The clock on it read 6:46 PM; it would be closer to nine in Indiana. Still. He had to let his fathers know what was going on. He couldn’t leave them to wonder what happened to him. And hearing their voices would certainly help sooth him.

He picked up his phone and dialed his father’s number, sitting down on the bed. The phone rang almost five times before it picked up.

“Jack, sorry; was doing dishes in the other room,” John sounded breathless. “What’s up?”

“Gabriel’s been dragged to Hell,” Jack whispered. “I’m going after him.”

John was silent and Jack could hear Daiki moving in the background. He heard soft Japanese before the ruffle of John’s shirt moved over the line.

“You’re going alone?” John demanded.

“There’s no time to wait for anyone else,” Jack replied. “He’s been down there long enough to lose his mind. He almost killed Ana this afternoon when she went looking for him.”

“I see,” John said softly. “Jack...swear to me that you’ll be careful.”

“I will, Dad,” Jack smiled. “I always am.”

“No, you aren’t, that’s just it,” John snapped. “You throw yourself headlong into danger because you think that you’re the only one that can do something. You never think, you just act.”

Jack blinked back tears. That wasn’t something he was expecting his father to say to him. But it was true; without Gabriel to temper his recklessness, he did charge headlong into danger to keep others safe. It was stupid and he’d almost died so many times. This was just another incident and it was going to give his father a heart attack.

“Ow,” he commented.

“I’m sorry,” John sighed. “You didn’t need to hear that from your father. I’m sorry.”

“John, give me the phone,” Daiki murmured softly.

Jack smiled as he heard Daiki and John talk quietly on the other end of the line. It was good to hear them, good to hear a healthy, loving partnership. He missed it. He missed them. He needed to go visit when this was all over.

“Jack?” Daiki asked as he took the phone. “How’s my little kestrel?”

“Antsy,” Jack admitted as he rubbed his forehead. “Tell Dad I’m not upset with him. Sometimes...I need to hear the harsh truth.”

“Maybe,” Daiki sighed. “But you know your father doesn’t think when he’s worried. And you’re so selfless when you’re hunting. John’s the exact same way.”

“Well, he did help a certain dragon unblock his egg-canal so he didn’t die of compaction,” Jack teased.

“Hush,” Daiki clucked his tongue. “The point is, we just want you to be careful, kestrel.”

“I will,” Jack promised. “I...plan on getting Jesse’s pack to watch over me. If there’s anyone that can keep me safe, it’s a pack of big, territorial, family-oriented werewolves.”

“Good luck, my kestrel,” Daiki cooed. “You are our world. Please come back whole and with your starlight. You both deserve to have the other back, never forget that.”

Jack said his final farewells and hung up. His hands were still shaking, but just knowing that his fathers were rooting for him was enough to put a fire in his belly. He’d be okay.

“John, stop pacing,” Daiki sighed as he watched his mate.

John turned to look at him. His jaw worked slowly before he started pacing again. Daiki shook his head slowly, sighing heavily at his mate. Poor John was so worried about his son. It didn’t matter how many hunts Jack had been on or how old he got; John would always see the grinning little boy of five years old holding Mondatta around the belly as the kitsune suffered the boy’s affection with a smile.

“John,” Daiki repeated as he got to his feet. “You’re wearing a hole in the floor.”

“How are you so calm?” John snapped as he pushed a hand up into his graying blond hair. “Our baby is about to go into Hell all by himself!”

“I know,” Daiki sighed. “I’m not happy about it either, John, but I know that Jack is strong and smart. He’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” John said before he closed his eyes. Tears slipped down his face and he let out a choked noise. “You don’t know that.”

Daiki let out a soft rumble before he wrapped his arms tightly around John’s shoulders and hugged him close. He nuzzled his mate, whispering softly to help calm him. His tears were the worst thing for Daiki to witness, especially over something like this where there was nothing he could do to make them stop.

“Jonathan, look at me,” Daiki soothed as he gently tipped John’s chin up. “Our boy is clever and resourceful. If anyone could get through Hell’s trials, it’s Jack.”

John met his gaze and his blue eyes teared up. He crumpled forward, sobbing uncontrollably. Daiki held him up without a word, letting his mate hide in his neck. He understood John’s fear; Hell was a dangerous place. There was a reason that mortals were not supposed to reach it while they still lived. It was hostile and unforgiving, but Daiki would not let himself think about Jack failing. If he allowed even that little shadow into his mind, he knew that he would spend the rest of his time worrying about his son and trying to get into Hell himself.

Hell was no place for a dragon of the waters.

“John,” he said gently. “Have faith in your son. You raised him. You taught him everything you know and he learned the rest through his own mistakes. He is strong, stronger than even he gives himself credit. He will survive and he will return to us. And then you can kick his ass for not visiting more often.”

John whimpered against his neck, but he didn’t argue. Daiki smiled as he gently lifted John’s larger body into his arms. John settled willingly against him, keeping his face tucked into Daiki’s throat as they headed upstairs to their room. John needed rest; he’d be ready to talk in the morning.

Jack kept himself flat on his belly as he waited for the patrol to go by. He didn’t want to deal with territorial werewolves anywhere near their border and he was already too close for them to act reasonably. Jesse had expanded his pack over the years and Jack didn’t recognize anyone that walked past him. That was even more worrisome. He’d have to talk to Jesse about controlling his biting when this was over. His pack would turn on itself if it got much bigger.

The next patrol didn’t go by until almost sunset. He’d have the shadows to his advantage, at least. Werewolves might be able to see in the dark, but a shadow was still a shadow. They couldn’t see where there was no light found. He snuck forward as they walked past, slipping across the invisible barrier into werewolf territory. He had to move fast.

He didn’t start running until he was a safe distance from the patrol. He didn’t want their highly sensitive ears to hear his boots scuffing the leaf litter. Nothing followed him as he made a mad dash towards the center of the territory where he knew the dens were. Dens being a relative term, of course. They were cottages all built close together so that they could move freely between them without stepping outside, but they called them dens.

He was less than halfway there when he heard the alarm sound. The patrols started howling and Jack swore as he picked up his pace. They’d be on him in minutes. He had to move if he wanted to get to the dens. There would be no forgiveness if they caught him before then.

He heard the first one lopping in on his left. He darted behind a tree, using it to throw the hunter off of his trail. He heard them yelp as they swerved to avoid the tree and didn’t realize there was a ravine up ahead until he slid down the bank. He cursed as his boots splashed through the creek, alerting everyone in a mile radius where the clumsy human was.

He started running, hoping that the ravine met up with solid ground soon. He heard the werewolves running on his left and didn’t dare turn to look at them. He knew that looking at them would only drive the knife of fear deeper into his gut. He wouldn’t give the hunters that sort of leverage against him.

“Intruder!” they howled furiously. “Intruder!”

He spotted a large root poking out of the side of the ravine and jumped for it. He hauled himself up the slick rise and scrambled back into the forest. He was disoriented and it took him precious seconds to figure out the direction he needed to go. He heard the first werewolf jump the gap as he started running again.

He was so fucked.

“Come on, come on,” he urged himself as he kept running. “Don’t let them catch you.”

He could feel the heat of their breath on his neck as he ran. They were too close. No amount of zigzagging would help; they would be able to follow him without trouble. He cursed, throwing himself at the ground and rolling into a crouch, hunting rifle against his shoulder.

“Stay back!” he shouted. “I’m not here to cause trouble!”

“Intruder,” the hunters snarled as they circled him. “Intruder!”

“One-track minds, huh?” Jack growled. “Call your Alpha. I need to speak with him.”

“Arrogant!” one of the hunters brayed before lunging at him.

Jack braced himself for the impact, but a gray body dropped down in front of him at the last second and threw the hunter away from him. The werewolf let out a loud howl and reared back, jaws open to amplify the noise. The hunters scrambled back, tails tucked between their legs as their Alpha berated them.

“You okay?” Jesse asked as he dropped to all fours and turned around.

“Your timing is impeccable,” Jack sighed as he got to his feet. “Sorry for showing up with an invitation.”

Jesse let out a bark of laughter before he slapped Jack’s back. “Jack, yer a member of the pack even if you ain’t furry,” he said. “Come on; we’re about to have supper. These pups have to get back to their posts.”

Jack chuckled as he followed the prancing werewolf the rest of the way to the dens. He was swarmed immediately, the older members of the pack greeting him like a long-lost brother. It was a fight to get through everyone, but it was heartwarming to experience. They’d missed him; he’d been afraid he wouldn’t be wanted. He had stopped visiting without any explanation; it wasn’t the werewolf way to do that to your pack.

Supper was rare steak, potatoes, gravy, and wild vegetables. Jack had no idea what the veggies were, but they tasted amazing. He listened to Jesse talk, smiling each time he playfully shoved a pup off of his lap so that they pounced back on him. He always felt bad for the children that were turned, but a werewolf pack would never turn a child away. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, filling the emptiness in Jack’s heart with laughter and companionship.

“So, what brings the retired hunter out here?” Jesse finally asked after the table was cleaned.

“Gabriel’s in Hell,” Jack said. “I’m going after him.”

“What?” Jesse demanded. “When did that happen?”

Jack frowned. “He didn’t come see you first?” he asked. “He was supposed to be looking into why the werewolf numbers had increased around the city.”

“Jack, I haven’t seen Gabriel in almost three years,” Jesse frowned. “You’re being set up.”

Jack grit his teeth together. “I figured as much,” he growled. “I want to know why.”

“I can’t help you there, Jack,” Jesse shook his head.

“No,” Jack agreed. “But, you can watch over my body while I go save Gabriel.”

Jesse’s eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth. “Jack,” he started to say.

“I know it’s dangerous,” Jack shook his head. “But I need to save him. I’m the only one that can. The only one willing to. I won’t let him suffer any longer. I need to help him, Jesse. He needs me.”

Jesse watched him before he nodded his head. “Alright,” he said. “But you better come back or I’m going to be pissed.”

Jack laughed softly. “Don’t worry; I plan on returning,” he promised. “With Gabriel in tow.”