#i was worried that meant she was consuming heavy metals. that is wrong

[deklo]

had coffee with my old boss :) she doesn’t have many new updates about the brewery but we chatted and gossiped of course. she’s so silly. she’s currently apparently on a heavy metal cleanse cjfncjfnchfb

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 9,067 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: The prison Warnings: mentions of anxiety, language Summary: Y/N falls ill on a run and Daryl worries about what's wrong.

Your name: submit What is this?

You leaned back against the chain link fence as Daryl pulled out the bolt cutters and cut the chain around the gate. “Okay. Umm… canned pears,” you said, glancing over at the archer. He peered up at you through his curtain of wavy brown hair.

“Pears? Nah. Peaches.”

You straightened up as he heaved the gate open. “I prefer pears.”

“Canned pears are disgusting,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Fine! If we find some, more for me!” you said. He slung his crossbow back over his shoulder in a well-practiced habit and started to lead the way toward the building. You followed just slightly behind him, fingering the hilt of your knife.

When you reached the small loading dock, Daryl gave you a serious glance and set down his duffel bag. He pulled the bolt cutters out again. You nodded and he banged them harshly on the closed overhead door. You both strained your hearing after the metal rattling ceased. Nothing. It was silent. You grinned at him.

“Well, that’s good news,” you said, relaxing slightly.

“There could still be some in there stuck somewhere. Don’t let your guard down,” he said, clipping the lock off the mechanism keeping the door shut.

“You know I don’t let my guard down,” you countered.

“Mmm,” he hummed, focused on the task at hand. He replaced the bolt cutters in the duffel and checked the magazine of his pistol before sliding it back into the holster at his side.

“French-cut green beans,” you said suddenly.

His blue eyes shot back up to your face. “Green beans?” he repeated. “And what the hell does ‘French-cut’ mean?”

You laughed. “They’re, like, thin sliced lengthwise. Julienne cut.”

Daryl just kept staring at you like you were nuts. “Juli-what? Green beans,” he said again. You grinned. “I love canned green beans! Maybe even more than fresh ones… although I don’t think that’s true anymore since you can’t find fresh anything these days…”

He let out a scoff of a laugh and shook his head, turning back to his crossbow and fitting a bolt into the flight groove. “Yer nuts, ya know that?”

“You like it,” you said, lifting your boot and poking the toe into his butt. It elicited the exact response you wanted, which was a look he meant to be stern, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes gave away his mutual amusement.

“Sometimes,” he said, straightening up.

“Well, what are you hoping we find in there? Besides canned peaches.”

He shrugged. “I dunno.” He reached for the door latch, getting ready to heave it open.

Your hand shot out and landed on his arm, stopping him. “Nuh uh! That’s not a good answer!”

He sighed, taking in your insistent and expectant expression. “How ‘bout a giant jar of garlic dill pickles?”

You nodded, pleased with his answer. “Much better. Okay. Ready,” you said, unsheathing your knife. Daryl took in the playful light that lingered in your eyes as you readied yourself for whatever you were about to find inside.

He heaved the overhead door open and the two of you stepped into the dim shipment receiving area, shoulder to shoulder. You both clicked on your flashlights and swept them over the room. Daryl led the way to a door in the far wall. “Bet this goes to the storage area,” he said quietly. You nodded, a little anxious, shifting your weight from one hip to the other.

Daryl knocked loudly on the door and again you both strained your hearing, listening for the tell-tale moaning and clawing of the dead. It was intensely quiet. You and Daryl exchanged a look and he reached for the door handle. You gave him a nod and he pushed into the next room.

You were hoping to find the stock of emergency supplies that had been put together shortly before the outbreak became all-consuming. They were to be sent as hurricane relief. But instead of the hoped-for stockpile, you found a mostly empty stockroom instead.

“Shit.” You stepped farther inside and kicked at a piece of discarded shrink wrap on the floor. “I guess someone else heard the same tip we did,” you said, shining your light over the empty shelves.

“Mmm. Or got real damn lucky,” Daryl said, his crossbow still raised. His light illuminating a nearby doorway into the main store area. “C’mon. Let’s just check out here.”

You followed behind him with your flashlight up and you hadn’t moved too far into the room before a wall of horrendous odor hit you. “Oh my God,” you said, pressing a hand over your nose and mouth.

Daryl’s light landed on the decomposing scattered bodies of walkers. “Somebody cleared the place out,” he said, crouching down to look at the inflicted wounds. “They’re all shot.”

“Oh, fuck,” you murmured, gagging at the smell. You doubled over and heaved a few breaths, struggling to stop the bile that was suddenly churning in your stomach.

Daryl glanced back at you over his shoulder, climbing to his feet when he saw how pale you looked. There were beads of sweat across your forehead. “Ya alright?” he asked, rushing over to you, overwhelmed with concern. He gently rubbed your back.

You were afraid if you spoke you were going to vomit so you waved a hand at him and did your best to steel yourself. When you felt like you could talk, you tried to straighten up. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Really. It’s just the smell—Ugh, it hit me hard. I think I just need some air…”

Daryl was staring at you with a deeply furrowed brow. “Ya sure?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” You felt another wave of nausea and shut your eyes against it. “I’ll be outside… Just finish looking around in here and I’ll—I’ll meet you out back,” you said. Daryl sweetly grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. You met his blue eyes and saw they were darkened with concern. “I’m okay.”

The archer watched you retreat out into the fresh air, puzzled over the situation. He’d never seen you react to the smell of rotting bodies or gore that way. Hell, he’d seen you open up a walker’s stomach to check for meal contents. He’d seen you put down countless numbers of dead ones with an unhesitating knife to the skull. Just then he heard the unmistakable sound of you retching outside.

“Y/N?” He rushed outside to see you doubled over on the pavement a short distance from the door.

You straightened up at the sound of his bootsteps, your knees feeling a little shaky.

“You’re sick,” he said, a shadow growing on his face. “We gotta go. Get ya home.”

You looked miserable. “It’s just a stomach thing. It’s not a big deal,” you said, pulling out your water and rinsing out your mouth.

“Maybe it’s somethin’ ya ate. What’d ya have this mornin’?” he asked with anxiety.

You shook your head. “Can’t be that.”

“Food poisonin’? Why not?”

“Because I didn’t have anything,” you said, shoving your canteen back in your bag. “Did you finish up in there?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, but don’t matter. I’m sure whoever put down all those walkers cleaned it out. Ain’t nothin’ gonna be in there anyway. C’mon. Let’s just get ya home,” he said, taking your pack from you and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Daryl, we came all this way. Don’t you want to—”

“Nah. What I want is to get ya home. You’re sick. C’mon,” he insisted. His face was clouded with worry as you wiped a shaky hand over your brow, surprised at the clamminess of your own skin.

You nodded. “Okay. Alright.”

You were still a little nauseous the whole drive back to the prison. You had the window down so the fresh air was on your face which helped some, but the churning in your stomach never really stopped. Daryl kept glancing over at you the whole time he was driving, checking the color of your face, watching carefully for any sign that you were worsening.

He reached over and rested his hand on your knee. You caught his blue eyes and smiled weakly. “Don’t look so worried. It’s nothing. Probably just the stagnant air in there or something,” you said, trying to reassure him.

He wasn’t convinced, but he nodded.

He felt better as soon as he had you back behind the safe walls of the prison. His hand rested lightly on your lower back as you both headed up toward the main building. Daryl spotted Hershel and Carol in the yard and stopped short. “Hey—I’m gonna grab Hershel to come take a look at ya. Go on and lay down,” he said, inclining his chin toward the building.

“I’m fine,” you said for what felt like the hundredth time. “You’re really making too much of this,” you said.

“Maybe. But better safe than sorry,” he said.

You gave him a weak smile and nodded, conceding to his sweet concern. “See you in a few?”

He nodded, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze before he jogged off toward Hershel.

It wasn’t long before he arrived at the space the two of you had claimed, Hershel and Carol in tow. You were laying on the mattress with his poncho draped over you. You looked tired, but Daryl was relieved to see that some of the color looked like it had come back into your face.

Hershel pulled up a chair as you sat up. “Feeling a bit under the weather? Let’s see if you’ve got a fever. After having kids, every parent turns into a human thermometer,” he said. He pressed a hand to your forehead. “No fever. Any other symptoms? Headache? Weakness? Feeling dizzy?”

You shook your head. “No. A bit tired. And just had some nausea.”

“She was pale and clammy before,” Daryl drawled, watching with worry. “She looks better now.”

Hershel nodded. “I see.”

“Really, I think it was just the smell of those rotting walkers. The air in there was heavy with decomp. It was like I could frickin’ taste it. Ugh, it was horrible,” you said. Your stomach turned again a little as you thought about it and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Hershel nodded. “Well, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” Hershel said.

Daryl shifted. “Ya sure?” the archer pressed him.

“I’m sure. Why don’t you go on and help Rick with that new water line? We’ll just get her some water and something to eat. Make sure she rests. But I don’t think there’s anything troubling.”

Daryl considered you for a moment and you gave him a smile. He seemed to feel reassured and he nodded. “Alright.” He crossed the space to you quickly and leaned down to place a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, giving you one more parting glance. You smiled at him again and watched the wings on the back of his vest disappear down the stairs.

“So, I’m okay?” you asked, adjusting Daryl’s poncho over your lap. You watched Hershel and Carol exchange a look. You stomach twisted. “What? What is it?”

“It was the smell of the walkers that set off the nausea?” Carol asked.

“Yeah…” You stared at the two of them, perplexed. “What, you’re surprised that a bunch of rotting corpses in a closed-up store with no ventilation made me puke?”

“Well… a little, to be honest,” Hershel said gently.

You gave him a questioning look and then stared at Carol.

“We’re not saying that isn’t understandable. It’s just that you have never reacted that way before. And we’ve all seen you deal with rotting corpses before plenty of times,” Carol said. “You’ve never gotten sick.”

“I don’t get what you’re driving at. So, maybe I have a little stomach virus or something?” you said. “Is something wrong with me?”

“No. No, honey,” Carol said, grabbing your hand. She took a breath, her eyes searching your face. “Y/N, could you be… pregnant?”

You froze, a sudden, struck expression on your face. The doctor and Carol watched your eyes go a little round and wide, flitting back and forth as your mind whirred, like you were searching for the answer in the air over their shoulders. “Oh my God.”

Hershel and Carol watched your reaction carefully. You were as still as a stone statue.

“Oh my God,” you said again. “I didn’t even—” You shook your head slightly. “I didn’t realize, but—” You pressed a hand to your mouth. “Between never having enough to eat and the constant stress, I didn’t even notice that I—I mean, it’s not like we’ve been trying.”

“So, I’ll take that as a maybe,” Hershel said nodding. There was a spark in his eye as he peered at you kindly. “We’ll see about getting you a test.”

You looked back at Carol, your mouth dropping open and your eyes a little frantic. “Carol, what do I—? Daryl… He—" If it was true, you had no idea how the archer would react. Hell, at that moment you didn’t even know how you would react.

She gave you a concerned smile and squeezed your hand between her palms. “Let’s just take this a step at a time,” she said gently. “Okay?”

You gulped and nodded, suddenly reeling with anxiety. “Okay. Okay…”

Hershel climbed to his feet. “You rest. Carol and I will figure out getting a test for you. Probably just ask Glenn to make a run.” He read the anxiety on your face. “Either way this goes, it’s your decision what happens next,” he said gently. “Daryl is a good man. Try not to worry,” he said.

You nodded. “I know. I know… Okay.”

Carol followed Hershel out and you laid down on the mattress, pulling Daryl’s poncho up over you and curling your fingers into it, pressing your face close to the fabric and breathing in his smell. You laid awake for a while with your mind spinning, wondering how he would react to the news. It was always easy to picture your future with Daryl, even during what was seemingly the end of the world, but you’d never thought about the details beyond the two of you being together. And with the history of his parents, what he had gone through, you didn’t know what he would want as far as a family… That had never mattered to you before, but now that you were staring the possibility in the face you were suddenly wrecked with nerves.

Sometime later, the archer arrived to check on you, approaching the space you shared in the lofted area of the cell block quietly, expecting you to be sleeping. But he was surprised to see that, although you were in bed, your eyes were open and you rolled over at the sound of his quiet steps.

He was sweaty and coated in dust and mud that was in various stages of drying. He set his bow down beside the bed. “Ya ain’t sleepin’?” he drawled.

You shook your head.

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “Just couldn’t.”

His brow furrowed. “How are ya feelin’?”

“Fine. Just a little tired.” You smiled at his dirty and somewhat disheveled appearance. “Come here,” you said softly.

He glanced down at his mud-coated clothes and arms, and looked back up at you like you were nuts for that request. “M’filthy,” he said.

“I don’t care,” you replied. “Come here.” You moved over to make room for him to lay down beside you.

Daryl gave you a look, his blue eyes soft, and bent down to at least pull off his boots. He laid down facing you and his heart leapt as you moved into him closely, your arm draping over his waist. You moved your leg until it was tangled between his. He happily breathed in the scent of your hair.

“Ya okay? Really?” he asked, his deep voice a little heavy with gravel—the result of his concern.

You pulled back from him just enough so you could look into his handsome face. “Mhm. I’m fine. Really.”

He nodded and seemed to relax some, draping his arm over you, mirroring your position. You nuzzled into him again and for the first time since Hershel and Carol had left you alone, your mind quieted.

You felt him place a kiss in your hair and you smiled reflexively.

“I need to clean up. I’m gettin’ our bed all muddy,” he said. You felt the rumble of the bass in his voice.

“Can I come?” you asked softly. “I’ve felt gross since the run.”

He glanced down at you and nodded. “If I ever say no to that, ya can assume I’ve lost my damn mind.” He gave you a fond look and smoothed your hair gently. “Ya sure ya just don’t wanna sleep?”

“Mhm. I’m sure. Besides, I won’t be able to sleep unless you’re right here anyway.”

Daryl smiled, feeling a swell of affection for you and the way you always made him feel wanted and needed. “Alright. C’mon then.”

So, the two of you made your way to the showers and slipped into a private stall. Daryl pulled you into him under the stream of water and kissed your bare shoulders and up your neck, his arms smoothing over the curves of your sides and landing on the angles of your hips. You scrubbed away the mud from his skin and he smoothed the soapy lather over yours, loving the way his fingers glided over the shape of you. When you were both clean, Daryl shut off the water and wrapped you into him with his big towel causing you to laugh. “Gotcha,” he drawled.

“You do.” Your hand landed flush on his strong chest, your fingers splayed out, and you looked up at him, the corners of your eyes crinkled slightly in a smile. Daryl’s heart jumped every time you looked at him like that. He leaned forward and left a kiss on your nose, watching as your eyelashes fluttered closed.

You looked up at him again as he grabbed your towel for you and you both dried off before pulling on some clean clothes. Daryl watched you running a comb through your hair and studied the graceful movements of your hands. “Hey,” he said softly, drawing your eyes to him immediately. “Ya know I love ya, right?” He still looked a little bashful every time he said it. You didn’t mind.

Your face lit with a gentle smile and you closed the space to him in an instant, clasping his face in both of your hands. “I know. And you know, I love you, right?” you said.

Daryl’s lips found yours and you sank into each other for a moment. “I know,” he said when you broke apart. “C’mon. Ya need somethin’ to eat and then sleep.” He laced his fingers with yours and pulled you toward the cell block.

After a quiet supper with the rest of the group, the two of you wandered outside into the evening air to enjoy the stars for a few moments before heading up to bed. Daryl sat down on the soft grass and tilted his head at you, beckoning for you to come sit up against him. You sank down in front of him and leaned back. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your shoulder.

One thing Daryl always loved about you was that you didn’t need to fill every silence. Just being close to one another filled each of you up in ways that idle chatter never could. But when he did want to talk, you listened intensely, really listened to him in ways he wasn’t used to. “I’ve been thinkin’,” he said softly, pausing to anxiously chew his bottom lip for a moment, “if the outbreak hadn’t happened, you and I probably never would have even looked at each other.”

“Hmm. How do you mean?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking about how best to explain what he meant. “I was too busy runnin’ around bein’ a piece of shit with Merle. And you—we were in different worlds, ya know. We probably never woulda even had the chance of brushin’ elbows. But if we did,” he shrugged, “I don’t think ya woulda looked at me twice.” He ran his hand down your bare arm, relishing the feeling of your soft skin. “Hell, I didn’t think ya would look at me twice even now…”

You turned and looked over at him, a sad but thoughtful expression on your face. “It’s hard to know, and maybe you’re right, that we would have never met… but if we did, I think I would have seen you just the same way. It’s impossible not to see you, Daryl.” You clasped his face and stroked your thumb along his strong jaw.

His eyes were flickering between yours and he felt that familiar bloom of warmth starting in the center of his chest, right between his lungs, and growing outward. He nudged his nose up at you, in awe of you always, and you acquiesced happily and kissed him. “Let’s get some rest,” he drawled when you finally broke apart. “C’mon.”

Daryl stood and pulled you up, keeping your hand captured in his, his thumb smoothing over the back of your hand as you made your way up to bed.

_ _ _ _ _ _

When you woke up the next morning you could tell it was much later than you usually slept in. And the fact that Daryl wasn’t beside you and that you hadn’t woken up when he stirred was also unusual. You were a light sleeper, and the two of you generally woke and got up around the same time. This sent your anxiety whirling again.

You got up and threw on some clothes, heading down to the lower level of the cell block and finding Carol and Beth sitting at one of the tables with Judith.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Carol said with a smile.

You rubbed your eyes and sighed. “Yeah, geez. What time is it? I don’t even know when I last slept in this late.”

She nodded and gave you a pointed look.

Beth only smiled up at you. “You must have needed it then,” she said kindly.

“I guess so…” You glanced around but the cell block was empty. “Where’s Daryl?”

“He’s on the fence with Rick. Little herd piled up overnight,” Carol explained.

“Mmm,” hummed in acknowledgment.

“Maggie and Glenn ran into town for some supplies,” Carol said, shooting you another meaningful look.

You nodded. “Great. Okay.” You anxiously bit the inside of your cheek.

“You want some breakfast? There’s some oatmeal we made,” Beth offered.

You shook your head. “No, I’m alright. I’m gonna go see how things are going on the fence I think.”

“Y/N, you should eat something,” Carol said.

You waved her off, already headed toward the door. “I’m fine! I’ll eat something in a bit!” Truthfully you had no appetite at all. This waiting, the not knowing, was agonizing.

You stepped out into the bright sunshine and set out toward the two figures on the perimeter fence. There was a group of walkers still clawing at the chain link, but it looked like Rick and Daryl had it under control. You grasped the interior chain link and hollered at Daryl and Rick over the mawing and growling sounds. “Best way to start the day?”

They both spun and you grinned at them. They were sweaty and splattered with walker blood, each clutching a metal rod in their hands, the end covered with a bit of gore. You felt a spin of nausea and avoided looking at the crimson dripping from their weapons.

“Morning exercise,” Rick said with a smile. He turned back and continued the task.

“Yer up,” Daryl said with a smile. He came over, wiped his hand on the red rag he always had in his back pocket, and then rested his fingers over yours, which were poking through the fence on his side.

“You should have woken me up! I can’t believe I slept in this late,” you said.

“Nah. Ya needed it,” he drawled. “Ya were out cold. Didn’t even move when I got up. Besides, we’ve got this handled. Ain’t no reason ya need to be out here.”

You nodded. “I see that.”

“Should be a done in a bit,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder at the growing pile of dead ones on the other side of the fence. Looking back at you, Daryl thought you looked a little pale. “Ya feelin’ alright?” he asked, his brow furrowing a little.

You nodded. “Mhm. Fine. I’m gonna just go see if Hershel needs help in the garden,” you replied. “See ya in a few?”

The archer nodded and watch you start to turn away. “Hey—just take it easy, alright?”

You laughed. “I think harvesting cucumbers is about as easy as it gets!” You gave him one more wide smile and headed for the vegetable garden. “Hey, Carl,” you said, as you came through the gate and passed him. “What are we harvesting today?”

Hershel glanced up at you and gave you a small smile. “Cucumbers. Peppers. Those tomatoes could use some weeding if you’re up for it,” he said. He surveyed you carefully and, like Daryl, did think you looked a little pale. But you seemed otherwise bright and alert as you set about your task.

But you hadn’t been working in the garden long when you started to feel a bit dizzy. A cold sweat broke out at your hairline and on the back of your neck and you knelt heavily in the soil a little suddenly.

Hershel noticed immediately. “Y/N?” He got up and moved over to you. He watched you wipe a shaky hand across your forehead. “You alright?”

You heaved in a deep breath and forced it out slowly. “Just feel sick all of a sudden. I’m okay. I’m fine,” you said, straightening back up. But as soon as you tried to stand your knees felt weak.

Hershel grabbed your arm to steady you. “Whoa. Easy now. Alright.” He turned to Carl. “Carl, go run and get Daryl.”

“No. No, I’m fine… Don’t bother Daryl with this. It’s nothing. I’m alright. I’ll just head back inside and rest,” you argued.

“You sure? It’s no bother to Daryl to come look after you,” Hershel said, giving you a pointed look.

“I’m fine. Really. I guess I do need some rest. It’s nothing,” you argued.

Hershel reluctantly released his gentle hold on your arm and you made your way back inside. Carol stood up when you came in and you read concern on her face at the sight of you. You let out a wry laugh.

“Wow, do I really look that bad?” you said, wiping at the sweat on your brow again with the back of your hand. Beth glanced over and she too looked worried after studying you. “I’m okay. Just gonna go lay down. I must just be a little sick... Caught some virus or something.” You climbed the stairs and collapsed back into bed, again grabbing Daryl’s poncho and cuddling up to it.

You dozed in and out for a while but woke when you heard hurried steps on the stairs. Looking up you saw Daryl in front of you, his blue eyes narrowed and obvious worry on his countenance. You leaned up on one elbow as Hershel came into view behind him.

Daryl sank down on the edge of the bed next to you and pushed your hair out of your face, smoothing it gently. “Ya are sick,” he said.

“I think she might be a little anemic,” Hershel said. “She needs iron. Red meat would be best.”

Daryl glanced over at him and nodded. “Alright. I can do that,” he said, grateful for a task that would be helpful to you when he was feeling helpless. He looked back at you. “I want ya to stay in bed today. Rest,” he said softly, his eyes flitting between yours. “Ya gonna be alright if I go out and hunt?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He gulped. “Alright. Promise you’ll stay in bed?”

You looked up at the sweet worry on his face. “I promise. Promise you’ll be safe out there?” You hated the idea of him going out and hunting alone.

“I promise. I’ll come back to ya.” He smoothed your hair again and then leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes briefly at the sensation.

He shouldered his crossbow and look at Hershel. “Thanks, doc,” he said. You watched the wings on the back of his vest disappear down the stairs.

You glanced up at Hershel who set a glass of water down next to the bed for you. “You really think I’m anemic?”

He nodded. “I do. Fits all your symptoms. All of them except you getting sick yesterday.”

“Oh… okay.”

Hershel gave you a kind look. “Glenn and Maggie should be back any minute now. I’ll come and check on you in a bit.”

You dozed on and off for a while until you heard some activity down the stairs and you sat up in bed. Quiet, steady footsteps on the stairs approached and Maggie came into view with a small bag for you. “Got what you needed,” she said.

You sat up, your stomach churning nervously, and accepted the bag from her. “Thanks,” you said. She hovered for a moment.

“Do you know what you’re hopin’ for?” she asked.

You shook your head and glanced up at her. “Not really…”

She nodded. “Well, either way it goes, we’re all here for you. And I know Daryl is too, no matter what.”

You gave her a small smile and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” You stared back down at the bag in your hand. “Well, better get it over with I suppose,” you said, standing up and heading for the bathroom.

A short while later you were back in the space you and Daryl shared, the pregnancy test sitting on the chair next to the bed. You couldn’t stop switching between sitting and anxiously bouncing your leg and pacing along the side of the bed wringing your hands. You were obsessively checking the time and it felt like it had decided to move like cold molasses. You were a bundle of nerves, but finally it was time to check the results. You forced a nervous breath in and out and picked up the test.

Positive. It was positive.

You felt like your knees were about to give out and you sat down on the bed hard, staring at that little plus sign.

Your heart was racing, and even though you were terrified, and so nervous wondering what Daryl’s reaction would be that you thought you might pass out, you broke into a teary smile as you stared at the results.

You replaced the test on the chair beside the bed and flopped backwards onto the mattress, staring up at the gray concrete of the ceiling and watching the shifting light and shadows. Whether it was simply from the relief of knowing or a result of the stress leading up to it combined with the toll on your body, you fell asleep not long after, cuddled up to Daryl’s poncho.

_ _ _ _ _ _

It was almost sunset when Daryl came back from his hunt, hauling a small deer over his shoulder. He had told himself he wasn’t coming back until he had some meat for you and everyone else (but mostly for you…) and he had succeeded. Usually hunting or tracking quieted his mind, but the whole time he was outside the prison fences he had been worrying about you. Before the outbreak, it wasn’t a big deal to get the flu or some random virus. But now, without access to modern medical care, something simple could turn into a big fucking problem real quick. You’d never had a problem with anemia before, if that’s what this was, and he didn’t really understand why you suddenly would. But he also knew that you were the type of person who would choose to go without a decent meal so Beth or Carl could have a second helping. He made a mental note to ask Maggie and Glenn about whether they saw any place on their run today that might have meds or supplements. Better to search out what they could before you needed it desperately.

The sun was low and sinking fast beyond the tree line as Daryl nodded to Carol as she closed the gate behind him.

“That’s a good find!” she said enthusiastically, looking at the deer slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah. How’s Y/N?”

“Hershel’s been checking on her. She’s been sleeping all afternoon,” Carol said.

Daryl nodded. “Good. I was afraid she’d be up tryin’ to help on the frickin’ fence or somethin’. Stubborn,” he drawled. He started up toward the prison and left the deer outside to be butchered. He wanted to see you before he did anything else.

It was quiet in the cell block. Most of the group was winding down for the evening, sprawled out with a book or busying themselves with some quiet activity. Rick gave Daryl a nod as he came in and continued bouncing and shushing Judith.

Climbing the stairs to your shared space, Daryl could tell you must still be asleep. Normally you’d have been calling out to him already with some greeting, or you’d be waiting at the top of the stairs with a one of those smiles that killed him every time.

He smiled as you came into view on the bed. You were partially curled up on your side, cuddled up to his poncho tightly, your fingers curled into the fabric and your cheek pressed to it. He pulled off his vest and tossed it on the chair beside the bed, debating about whether or not to wake you up and ask how you were, when he heard something clatter to the floor.

He bent and felt around under the chair and his hand closed on it. Straightening up, he finally looked at what was in his hand. Even Daryl knew what that little plus sign meant. He glanced back over at your sleeping figure.

This was—was this—suddenly, everything made sense.

The archer rushed down the stairs and toward the exit. Rick looked up and frowned at his urgency. “Daryl?” But the archer didn’t even stop to look at him.

Outside, he grabbed his crossbow from where he had laid it down by the deer, shouldered it, and let himself into the alley between the fences, running toward the vehicles waiting on the outside.

Carol saw him and her stomach immediately twisted. “Daryl?” She rushed toward the fence, but by the time she got there he was already slamming the driver door of the SUV and peeling out, the tires scattering gravel behind the car. Carol gripped the chain link fence so hard her knuckles were white and stared at the taillights disappearing into the dark beyond the lazily drifting cloud of dust. Her stomach dropped.

She ran the whole way back up to the prison and met Rick on his way out. “What’s going on?” Carol asked desperately.

“I was just coming to ask Daryl that same question,” Rick said, his eyes searching the yard and perimeter fence for his broad-shouldered frame. “He just went hurrying out of the cellblock.”

“I saw! He just took the SUV and peeled out of here,” Carol said, her eyes wide and worried. “It’s dark! Where could he possibly be going right now that couldn’t wait?”

A shadow darkened Rick’s expression. He shook his head and shrugged, meeting Carol’s eyes again, at a complete loss. “Better ask Y/N.”

Carol suddenly realized—like a flash of lightning. She nodded to Rick. “Let me go talk to her.”

Carol climbed the stairs to you and Daryl’s space in the cellblock. You were fast asleep on the bed and she gently touched your shoulder to wake you. You stirred and glanced over at her through sleepy eyes. You must have read something on her face because you shot up in bed immediately. “What? What is it? Is Daryl okay? Is he back?” You could tell by the lack of slanted light coming through the high windows that it must be dark.

Carol didn’t know how to tell you this. “He’s fine. He came back with a deer. And then—all of a sudden he just barreled out of here again. He took the SUV.”

You suddenly realized that Carol was sitting on the chair where the pregnancy test had been. Your heart plummeted into your stomach. “Wait—where—where’s the test? It was—it was right there where you’re sitting,” you said.

Carol shook her head. “I didn’t see it. There was nothing here when I came up. Just Daryl’s vest over the back here—”

Carol took in your wide-eyed expression. You jumped up off the bed and starting searching around the floor, reaching under the mattress. “It was right there. I set it there.” You stood up, frozen, one hand clutched to your head. Shit. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Daryl came back, and you were asleep, and he must have seen the test and— “He—He came back and I was asleep and he saw it,” you murmured. “He must have seen it and… he just ran off?” There were tears stinging in your eyes now.

Carol stood up and gently grasped your shoulders. “Try not to jump to any conclusions.”

“Carol, it was positive.” You just stared at her, your eyes still wide. “It was positive! What else am I supposed to think? He came back and he saw a positive pregnancy test and he just—he just left?” Your voice was desperate.

The only thing Carol could think of doing was to grab you tightly and hug you. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay! Don’t panic!”

Part of you knew Daryl would never just leave, but another part of you knew this was completely uncharted territory. You honestly didn’t know how he would react to the news… You couldn’t stop cursing yourself for leaving the stupid test out like that and letting yourself fall asleep. Anyone could have walked up and seen it, and of course it had to be Daryl. You snatched his poncho off the bed and started toward the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Carol demanded.

“I’m gonna go wait,” you said. “I’ll be in the east guard tower…And Carol—Please don’t say anything about this to anyone… Just—not yet. Not now.” You breezed past Rick on your way out, ignoring him calling your name.

Carol met him at the bottom of the stairs. “What’d she say?” Rick drawled.

Carol shrugged. “She was sleeping. Maybe—maybe Daryl is worried about her being sick and decided to go look for supplies,” she offered weakly.

Rick let out a disbelieving sigh. “At night? By himself?”

All Carol could do was shrug.

“How is Y/N? And where’d she just rush off to?”

Carol nodded. “She’s alright. Worrying about Daryl now obviously. She wanted some fresh air and to watch for him so she headed up to the guard tower.”

The worry creases on Rick’s forehead didn’t ease. “What the hell is he thinking going off by himself at night?”

Carol shook her head. “He probably wasn’t.”

Up in the guard tower, with Daryl’s poncho swaddled tightly around you, you sat out in the open night air and stared at the road that led up to the gate. A few times you even tricked yourself into thinking there were distant headlights approaching, but when you looked again everything was just as still and black as it had been a moment before. You heard the door creak open behind you and Hershel stepped out.

He sighed and looked up at the inky blue-black sky, dotted with innumerable stars. “Ah. It’s nice and cool out here now,” he said, leaning back against the wall of the tower. He bent and set a bowl of some noodles and vegetables beside you. “You better eat something,” he said.

“No appetite right now, funny enough,” you said.

He could see the rigid tension in your shoulders and he sank down next to you with some effort, adjusting his prosthetic leg with a sigh. “I can see you’re getting ahead of yourself,” he said gently. “Trying to guess the answer before you can even ask the question.”

You finally looked over at him, an anxious expression on your face. “Did Carol tell you?”

“No. She didn’t have to. I can guess well enough,” he said, a small smile on his lips. Hershel turned his gaze out over the yard. “You know there was a time, back at the farm, when I wasn’t sure about Daryl. You can imagine this old farmer was a little skeptical of his rough-around-the-edges, hot-headed biker attitude,” he chuckled to himself. “But time and time again, he came through for me and my girls. He watched out for all of you and he kept us safe even when we weren’t his to care about yet. He certainly saw Shane for what he was before anyone else.” Hershel breathed in a deep breath of the cool night air and let it out slowly. “And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d do anything for you.”

You could feel tears burning in your eyes again, and you adjusted the poncho around your shoulders.

“Whatever reason he had for tearing out of here like he did, I promise you that he will be back,” Hershel said strongly.

You wiped one tear that leaked onto your cheek and sniffled, trying your hardest to blink away the rest. You nodded. “Yeah. I just—I don’t know how to—how to do any of this,” you said. “And we’ve never even talked about it so I don’t know what he wants. What if—”

Hershel chuckled again. “What ifs can lead you down a dangerous road of thinking. Let’s just wait and see, hmm?”

You gulped and nodded, staring back out into the night. “You don’t have to wait with me,” you said.

“I’m going to sit here until you eat something. Doctor’s orders.” You could hear a smile in his voice and you begrudgingly picked up the bowl he had brought for you and picked at the food. Hershel smiled.

When the bowl was empty, Hershel took it from you and pulled himself to his feet again. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Everything is going to be just fine. You’ll see.”

You felt like you had been waiting up there for days, but it was really only a few hours. You were reeling with worry, but this time when you thought you saw headlights and looked again they were still there.

You jumped up and stared as the SUV came into view and stopped at the gate. Turning on your heel, you started to rush toward the stairwell but you suddenly froze. What the hell were you going to say? What the hell was Daryl going to say? You were gripped with anxiety again as the multitude of what ifs you had been fighting since waking up suddenly traveled through your brain in single file at light speed. You were frozen, staring at the door for… you didn’t even know how long when it suddenly started to open.

You startled and jumped back with a small gasp of surprise. Daryl’s broad shoulders emerged through the widening gap. “Y/N?”

You gulped and stared back at him, anxiously chewing the inside of your cheek.

He stopped just inside the door and took in your wide eyes and obvious distress. His brow furrowed heavily, casting a shadow over his narrowed blue eyes. He gulped and stepped closer to you.

You cleared your throat, hoping your voice wouldn’t come unnaturally high or strangled sounding despite the constriction in your throat. “You’re back,” you said softly. It was the only thing you could force out.

Daryl looked puzzled. “Of course I’m back,” he said, stepping closer. He drew his bottom lip in between his teeth and worried it between his teeth for a moment. You watched as he reached in his back pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test.

Your heart was pounding.

“I, uhh—I found this. Ya were asleep and—” He gulped. “It’s positive, right? Means you’re pregnant.” It really wasn’t a question.

Daryl could see your chest heaving a little with your nervous breaths. You nodded.

Daryl stared down at it for a long moment before he looked back up at you. “What do you wanna do?” he asked.

You stared at him. He looked so calm while you felt like you were spinning. “I don’t—I don’t know—I—” You forced in a breath. “We’ve never talked about what you want. Hell, we’ve never talked about what I want either…”

“I know what I want. I want you. That’s more than I could ever ask for,” he said, stepping closer toward you again. “But this? This is your decision. And whatever you decide is fine by me.”

You were almost overwhelmed with emotion immediately, just hearing him speak those words. Daryl saw it and he couldn’t resist breaking the buffer of space between you any longer. He clasped your face in both hands as the tears finally broke free of your eyes and traveled down your cheeks. “Hey. S’alright,” he murmured to you. He wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you against him tightly. “M’right here.”

You pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes. “You’re really okay with… either way?” you asked him, uncertainty still plain in your eyes.

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ya. Promise.” He smoothed his hands over your back.

You leaned your head against his chest for a moment and listened to his strong and steady heart. Daryl gently stroked your hair, enjoying the feeling of you against him and the silky strands of your hair under his fingertips.

You squeezed your eyes shut, part of you still bracing against some worst-case scenario you knew would never come, but that nagging doubt wouldn’t be completely silenced. Your voice was soft, but Daryl still heard it as clear as day. “I think—I want to do this. With you.” You pulled back slightly and looked up, meeting Daryl’s waiting blue eyes. You had barely gotten the words out before he had wrapped you up again and picked you up off your feet, hugging you so tightly he squeezed a little air from your lungs. You let out a surprised laugh as he set you back down, about to speak again, but he clasped your face and kissed you feverishly before you could start. It was like a warm shot of bourbon or that first warm day of sunshine after a long winter. It was urgent and soft at the same time, pleading and needy but affirming, his fingers in your hair.

When he finally pulled back there was a smile crinkling the corner of his blue eyes as they flickered between yours. You were sure you had a slight look of shock on your face still despite the bewildered smile you were now wearing.

“We’re doin’ this?” he asked, not releasing his gentle hold on your face.

You nodded. “We are.” Your heart was pounding. “Oh my God, we are…”

Daryl kissed you again and you sunk into it deeply this time. His hands came to rest on your hips and you stared up at him, still feeling a little like you were spinning. “I didn’t know how you’d—because of your life growing up…” you trailed off.

He nodded. “I know. But I ain’t my dad,” he said forcefully. “You’ve shown me that more than anyone.”

“I woke up and Carol said you just went running off and I—I didn’t know what to think when I realized the test was gone and that you must have seen it,” you admitted.

Daryl’s brow furrowed and he shook his head as he looked at you. “Ya thought I would leave ya?”

“No! No, I didn’t—but then—I just—I guess I got scared… This whole thing is a little overwhelming.”

“Hey. C’mere,” he said, wrapping you up in his arms again and pressing you against him. “I ain’t never leavin’ ya. Never. You’re—you’re my everythin’.”

You breathed him in for a moment before pulling back. “Well, then where did you go?”

One corner of his mouth twitched up and he laced his fingers with yours. “C’mon. I’ll show ya.”

You followed him down the stairs and back into the prison to the cellblock. It seemed that everyone was already asleep except for the two of you, satisfied once Daryl was back that they didn’t need to wait up worrying anymore like you were. When you climbed the stairs into your space, Daryl bent down and pulled a duffel bag out from under the bed. It looked like it was stuffed full. He knelt down beside it and unzipped it.

You stared down at the contents and then met his blue eyes. “This is what you were doing?”

He nudged his nose up at you in a nod, pressing his lips together a little nervously. Now you were the one who grabbed him and kissed him desperately.

The bag was full of things you would need during a pregnancy and for a baby; pre-natal vitamins, bottles, pacifiers, blankets, diapers. Your heart swelled as you looked down at it and then back at Daryl again. You shook your head. “You just—you amaze me,” you said.

He shrugged, still a little bashful when you directly complimented him even after all this time. He reached back under the bed and pulled out a second bag. You gave him a questioning look. “What is that?”

“In case ya decided the other way,” he said. “S’mostly just some random things ya like. Books and…” He shrugged again.

“So—Baby was Plan A?” you asked him as he climbed to his feet.

“You were Plan A. Ya always were and ya always will be.”

You looped your arms around his neck and his hands reflexively landed gently on your lower back. “But—you were hoping—?”

He paused thoughtfully for a moment and then nodded. “If ya woulda asked me a week ago I don’t know what I woulda said. But as soon as I picked up that damn test up and looked at it… And then I looked at ya just layin’ there asleep, all wrapped up with my poncho the way you were… I knew what I was hoping for. But I mean it when I say that anything you decided would be fine. You’re the one who as to do the hard part.”

You arched up onto your toes and kissed him again, sliding your fingers into his hair and feeling calm and happy again for the first time since you had sent out for the test. “How’d I get so lucky finding you?” you asked him quietly. Daryl felt his heart skip a beat and electricity zipped up his back. You always did that to him. Easily. Still.

“I ask myself that all the damn time,” he drawled. “Now c’mon. Ya need rest.”

You nodded and realized that despite sleeping most of the day, you were exhausted. Anxiety will do that… “I suppose you think this means you’re gonna be able to boss me around now?” you joked, settling into bed.

“Damn right,” he said with a smirk, pushing the duffels of supplies back under the mattress. “Gotta make sure ya take care of yerself and the little one. I’m gonna boss ya around all the damn time.” He kicked off his boots and slipped into bed next to you, immediately moving until his body was pressed against yours and he could wrap an arm over you. You slipped your fingers between his. “Gonna tell Hershel he can boss ya around too,” he joked. “And Carol. And Rick. And Maggie. And—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you laughed.

Daryl smiled to himself and kissed your neck. “We’re doin’ this,” he said softly.

You sighed contentedly and nodded. “We are.” And that night you had no trouble sleeping.

[darkorderaf]

your writing has inspired me to want to start writing again! but work is a pain right now SO I shall roll up with another Evil Uno request. maybe a lil spooky take on the ‘someone almost dying and it finally clicks for them?’ supernatural shenanigans almost going wrong? always down for smut but ur instincts are impeccable so whether you feel like going there is obvs up to you!

OOOOH WHAT AN IDEA. I’m obsessed. I sort of took this one and ran with it, it might be a little weird and experimental lol, so I hope you like it. When I tell you that this one had me busting open my symphonic metal playlists...I’m also so honored and humbled that my writing has inspired you, sincerely. Me, along with everyone else, would LOVE to read your writing. And that goes for everyone who’s thinking about writing. Do the thing! <3

Pairing: Evil Uno x OFC. Prompts: Your lover almost dies and that’s when it clicks for you. Rating: M. Warnings/Content: Angst and smut. A little blood and spooky stuff. Word Count: 2,683.

(I don’t own gif; credit to allelitewrestlings!)

The first hour they met, it was within a shroud of smoke upon a floor speckled with crimson. The thick smell of brimstone burned the sensitive skin of the human’s nostrils. Eight figures watched as the form in the center of their summoning circle slowly unfurled. Her eyes flicked between the bodies. Her body felt tired, as though she had been strung along an endless journey. Her naked thighs trembled as she made to stand.

“Holy shit, it worked.”

Her eyes darted to the side and the man she looked at froze. He was short, stocky. Apparently named Silver from what she could make out from the man beside him. The pair eyed her warily. Her head throbbed and she held her hand up against the harsh light of the moon overhead. The air here felt so heavy. Footsteps shuffled behind her and she turned again. The sudden movement was too much for her weak legs and she nearly collapsed.

Strong arms caught her before she could. She tried to make sense of the masked face that hovered over hers. It looked garish, skeletal, but the eyes...His eyes were dark and warm. Full of that human concern she was familiar with. He pulled a sheet around her and took a few steps away. She gathered herself in the blanket and took a deep breath.

“Why am I here?”

The man crouched down in front of her.

“We need your help,” he said. His voice was soft and low. Gentle. Funny considering what was required to summon someone like her. “We’re...attempting something but it’s in a language we don’t understand. It’s not a human one.”

She snorted in amusement.

“So you summoned something inhuman to help you,” she said as she eyed the eight again. “And they say humans lack ingenuity.”

She made to stand and when she stumbled, he was there to help her again. Her attempt to growl at him was weak and she settled for a glare.

“What do you want from me?”

“Your wisdom, that’s why we called you here,” he answered. She didn’t doubt him. This was not a man that would lie. “Teach us what to do, that’s all we ask.”

She grinned, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Her head lolled back against his arm as she looked up at him.

“Oh, is that what you think I am? A creature of wisdom?”

Her hand loosely curled around the collar of his vest and pulled him close. Just before she nodded off, she hissed.

“Bless your soul.”

---

She was reluctant to teach them, let alone speak, those first few days. They had forcefully summoned her there, she didn’t owe them anything and said as much. She wandered the halls of their Keep. It felt familiar to her but she couldn’t place it. Each night, the strange masked man sat with her and asked her questions. Even if she didn’t answer, he was patient with her. She never wanted for anything. Food with sunup and sundown, clean water to bathe in. Evil Uno, as she came to learn he was called, was well-versed in the history of the world she came from and all its layers. It was oddly endearing.

He asked her her opinion on things. Asked her questions she hadn’t been asked in so long. She hadn’t realized how desperate she was for conversation until he sat beside her and addressed her like an equal, not someone they simply summoned for their gain. Slowly, her answers lengthened from two words to ten to whole monologues. It was after an impassioned rant on the nine layers that she saw him smile. She smiled too.

“I like you,” she said. Evil Uno and Anna Jay were barely through the door to her room when she was on her feet. It broke the silence of the seventh day and the two members of the Dark Order glanced between each other. “Tell me what you want me to teach you and I will consider it.”

“Really?”

It was Anna that spoke and the demon nodded as she brushed past them.

“Yes. Where is your library?”

Uno was quick to fall in step beside her.

“My tongue is a difficult one to teach,” she said as she assessed him through a sideways glance. A smirk formed. “Don’t worry if you get frustrated, it’s only natural. Are you prepared?”

His eyes locked with hers and she couldn’t help the way her smirk grew. Her eyes fell to the way his smirk reflected hers. It was true. She did like this mortal man and the way he looked at her. Not with heat like most mortals but with understanding. Respect.

“I’ll have a good teacher.”

---

She went silent once he told her what exactly he wanted to do. Damn him. Damn him for drawing her in near and springing this upon her. Damn her for caring about it.

“No,” she said. She shook her head and slammed the ancient book closed. The chair scraped loudly against the stone as she stood. “I won’t teach you this.”

She made to move away and then his hands were on her shoulders, his grip a shaky thing that worried her. The demon eyed him warily.

“Please,” he begged. “Please. This is something that I need to do.”

Her eyes burned when she looked at him, his eyes so fierce yet so full of unknown sadness. What was it?

“Tell me,” she said. Her voice lost that indignant nature, tempered to something soft and almost human. “Tell me why you would want to do something so humanly reckless.”

For a brief moment, his thumbs traced the lines of her shoulders. His hands fell to his sides and he sat down heavily in the library chair. The man leaned forward and rested his face in his hands.

“I’ve…” He paused. Sat back up and straightened himself out. “Every day passes and I see the way they look at me. I remember the way they used to. I’m their leader and I’ve failed them. If I do this…” He touched the book on the table and looked at her. “If I do this, I can be the leader they deserve. I can be someone they’re proud of and we won’t ever be lost again.”

“You do not need that to be a leader,” she spat. When did human affairs get her so incensed? “You can do that of your own volition.”

“I wish that were true,” he said. “I wish that were how it was but it isn't. Please, help me do this.”

“It will kill you,” she finally said. “Or if, if it doesn’t, you will pray that it had.”

His eyes didn’t stray from hers. Damn his conviction. Damn this mortal man.

“I will teach you the words,” she said, devoid of emotion as she willed herself to set it aside. “Then the rest is up to you. I will wash my hands of this.”

“I understand,” he said. He reached out to her again and this time, his hand cradled her firewarm cheek and she allowed it. “Thank you. I mean it. Thank you.”

At that, she shook her head and moved away from his touch. She would not allow herself to grow to like it. Not when the future was being erased with every minute and her black heart couldn’t bear it.

---

Uno was a quick study and she would have been impressed if it didn’t infuriate her. She had hoped to prolong the inevitable, hoped to prolong this foolish endeavor. Even as she broke the spell into smaller and smaller parts, he picked it up quickly. Within two weeks, he was ready.

The smell of incense burned through the halls of The Keep and stirred her out of her sleep. It was the incense that she had told him he needed. They had stayed up late studying and when he had dozed off at the table in her room, she took him to her bed. She had meant to keep vigil but she too needed rest. He must have known. Clever Uno.

The smell led her to the same room that the Dark Order had summoned her into. Before she opened the door, her nose was thick with the smell of blood. He was close to completing it. She threw her body against the door three times before it finally broke apart. Inside, a great chasm consumed the center of the room. Inhuman arms tried to crawl out, tried to snatch at Uno to draw him inside.

“S-Stay back,” Uno gasped out, the man on his knees and the purple of his clothes dark with blood. Five and Ten had almost broken the lines. “I can do it. I can do this.”

Anna looked at her with tear-filled eyes and she did her best to rid her eyes of her own. With long strides, she crossed the room and threw herself to the ground between Uno and the chasm. The creature inside paused, as though it sensed one of its own. She hoped, a strange thing, that it would be enough. Uno’s heartbeat was weak behind her. The panic in her chest made her speak faster, the old and buried language alive and loud in the room. She continued to chant, to strain every muscle in her body to keep it back. To keep it away from him.

Her ears bled with the intensity of the creature’s screams and it’s claws reached out at her, scratching her arms. She didn’t flinch. The creature’s arms began to shorten, the chasm began to close. With one last infuriated shout, the chasm slammed shut and severed the creature’s arm.

With a great sob, it vanished.

The room went deathly quiet, save for her heavy breathing and the constricted sobs of the Dark Order around her. The thud behind her whipped her around and she was on her knees, Uno’s masked face cradled in her hands.

“If you die on me, mortal man, I will haunt you,” she said, voice choked with emotion. She muttered the old language under her breath as she held his face. “I will never leave you alone, do you understand? I will find you, do you understand? I will find you.”

---

Uno finally stirred two days later and she was by his side, her intense eyes on him. He thought he would be endlessly tired but he felt...awake. More awake than he had been. Just as he was about to ask,

“What did I tell you?”

“That it would kill me,” he said. “But it didn’t, did it?”

She looked at him, her jaw momentarily dropped. Then she began to laugh, a hand over her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes and he reached for her.

“It did not,” she conceded. “You’re welcome.”

“What did you do?”

“Stopped you.”

“No, that’s not...All you did, is it? I feel fine. I shouldn’t feel fine, should I?”

She had looked ethereal before, an otherworldly glow to her skin. Her eyes. It was still there but not as vibrant.

“You did something stupid,” she said. She climbed up onto the bed and sat beside his legs. “It only felt right that I should match you in stupidity. I’m never doing it again, it’s terribly human.”

His dark eyes fell on her and roved over her with suspicion. He reached out to her and she took his hand. Slowly, he led her to straddle his lap as he sat up. Her hand stroked his masked cheek.

“You never asked what I was,” she murmured. “Why?”

“It didn’t matter,” he said with a shake of his head. “I trusted you. I do trust you.”

“Bold of you,” she hummed. Her nails trailed along the pulse in his neck. “Trusting a demon.”

“You saved my life,” he said, full of that earnest nature that she adored so much. “I’ll trust you as long as I live.”

“Ask me,” she breathed. She leaned into him, cupped his face in her hands. “Ask me what I am.”

His hands went to her waist and she could feel him swallow.

“What are you?”

“A demon,” she said, an amused lilt to her voice. His hands squeezed her and she smiled at him. Her hands trailed down his chest and slowly undid the zipper of his soft vest. “Yours. So often, when humans speak of love, they speak of the love of angels as though it’s so pure. As if it’s the only love. It’s foolish.”

She tutted and caressed his face again. His hands trailed under the loose shirt she wore and caressed her heated skin.

“I burn for you,” she said. Her confident tone wavered as she looked at him. “And I do not want to be without you, my unexpected love. I think I would go cold. Can I show you? Can I be with you?”

Uno nodded and rose with her as she captured his mouth with her own. She ripped the sheets from him and made quick work of his clothing. The frantic energy they created stripped them to stand on equal grounds. Her mouth laved kisses along the flesh of his chest and when she took him into her mouth, his hips nearly shot off the bed.

Her hands held him down as her tongue traced the throbbing vein that ran the entirety of his length. She didn’t mind the way his hands pulled and pushed at her hair, her head. His choked moans coaxed a grin out of her and when he came with a ragged shout down her throat, she swallowed him whole. She trailed back up to kiss his neck, gently biting the meat of his shoulder. His hand slid down her torso and settled in the junction of her slick thighs. He surprised her by flipping them and settling her back against the bed. The lights went dark and she gasped when she felt his tongue trace up her wet slit, curl around her sensitive bud.

Perhaps her tongue had not been that difficult to learn.

Uno had her toes curling and her lungs heaving by the time she came. He certainly was a quick study. His mouth found hers and she was surprised to feel that he had foregone his mask. His hands kneaded her breasts and she felt him hard once more against her. Her thighs wrapped around his hips and he grunted as he teased her with the head of his cock.

“Lover, please,” she begged. Hells, how she wanted him. It was torture and paradise to burn so heavily with lust. “I want you, I want you.”

His initial thrust into her was slow and then his impatience got the better of him. Old, wicked words flowed from her mouth into his ear and urged him on. He repaid her in kind, French heavy on his tongue as he bucked into her. Squeezed her flesh and marked her skin with his lips, with his teeth. He panted into her pulse and she felt the way his hips stuttered, the way he pulsed inside her. He hefted her hips up higher and ground down deeper into her. The sudden sensation against her clit had her arms tightening around him, her thighs locking around him. Her nails raked down his sweaty back and gripped the muscle of his ass.

They came together with an unholy shout, their mouths locked together as their hips waxed and waned against one another before gradually coming to rest. The room remained dark as she gathered him against her chest and he slid out of her. He rested his forehead between her breasts and breathed hard.

“I…” She suddenly said, her nerves gathered in her throat. “I would like to stay with you. I don’t want to go back.”

He answered her with a kiss and lingered there.

“Then stay,” Uno said. “Be a part of us or just be a part of me, it’s your choice. I want you here, however you want to be.”

She smiled at that.

“Of course, lover.”

[kylescheiblehateclub]

Big Jet Plane

by: kjllingmoon (me, hi) || my twitter

chapters: 1/1 || words: 2.6k || rating: general audiences

summary:

It was a bad idea.

Still, it couldn't hurt to help.

----

In which Kojiro takes a beat-up Kaoru home after his little escapade from the hospital.

This was a bad idea.

It was one thing to let Kaoru stay in the restaurant despite sneaking out of the hospital with a broken leg (which, by the way, how the hell did he manage to get to Luce by himself?), but this was in another league of its own. He could already hear the slew of insults coming his way. You dopey gorilla, what if you dropped me? Why would you let me fall asleep without knowing if I have a concussion? I see your interior decor hasn’t gotten much better since last time.

He could stand it and not fight back, if just for one night. Frankly, he felt comfort when seeing Kaoru at the restaurant. It meant the accident wasn’t too bad, at least physically. And there was the sense of superiority that came with knowing he chose his restaurant, of all places. Superiority at knowing he was Kaoru’s priority, and comfort at knowing Kaoru still cared for him. Despite everything—the years of arguing, being split up during their respective years of higher education—there was still care. Which is more than what he could ever feel towards that other asshole.

It wasn’t like he’d verbalize how he felt on the ride to the emergency room. Hours had passed and he still couldn’t figure out if he had been shaking from the worry towards his friend, or hatred towards the man they once thought they knew. All that was certain was the regret he felt upon not beating Aino—Adam to a pulp right then and there, for everyone to see.

Ainosuke, Adam. The same rotten person at the core.

That violent nature wasn’t like Kojiro, it wasn’t expected of him. Which only angered him further. How was it that he and Kaoru let it get this far? S had begun as a way of self-expression, and it snowballed into a free-for-all that sometimes made him sick to his stomach. The notoriety got to his head, despite the promise he’d made to himself years ago. It was a tricky situation, one he didn’t like thinking about yet still kept him up at night.

Kojiro sighed in relief as his house came into a clearer view (giving him a break from his thoughts), surprised Kaoru slept through the ride. The pain meds must have kicked in…. He fished his keys from the pocket of his jeans and unlocked his front door, turning a light on before carefully pushing Kaoru inside. The door was promptly closed and locked, followed by his shoes being removed and all the shit in his pockets being moved to the bowl next to the door.

Once again, he found himself debating his options. He knew fully well that he should have dropped him back off at the hospital, it’d been ringing around his head during the whole walk back to his house. How was he supposed to know he’d be okay, though? Surely one night won’t kill him. They’ve gotten into bigger problems and walked away unscathed. Then again, neither of them had gotten swatted at high speed by a fucking piece of wood and metal until that night.

Options, Kojiro.

Perhaps he could start with actually waking Kaoru up and asking if he’s okay. He crouched in front of the wheelchair, nearly eye-to-eye with the man, and carefully shook him by the shoulder. “Oi, Ru. Up and at ‘em, c’mon.”

Silence. He remained still as the other stirred, bright yellow eyes looking around in confusion. Another thing Kojiro would never verbalize was the way his heart picked up as he saw thin eyebrows knit together, chapped lips pursing.

“Kojiro.” Kaoru groaned, removing his glasses. His heart had moved on from picking up to doing backflips. He began scratching at his eyes, and the act made him look younger and even more fucked up at the same time. Amazing. “Why are you staring? Didn’t your mother teach you that’s rude?”

She never said anything about admiring pretty things. “Whaddaya need, kid? Want me to take you to bed, maybe get you some food?”

Both of them looked down at Kaoru’s lap, at the way his free hand fiddled with the temples of his glasses. It felt awkward; like he was actually… embarrassed of whatever was on his mind. Kojiro stood up, figuring he’d be doing him a favor by giving him the time and space to speak. No use in forcing words through a muddled mind. He took a seat on his couch, his back facing Kaoru.

“Back at the hospital, they just…” Kaoru sounded frustrated and like he’d given up despite barely beginning. Kojiro didn’t move. “They only cleaned the affected areas and I knocked out as soon as my head touched the pillow. I feel dirty.”

Ah. Hot springs, showers. Same difference. Kojiro wouldn’t find the courage in either scenario.

“Will you wash my hair?”

A terrible, no good idea, indeed.

And yet, he got up and wheeled him into the bathroom, with not so much as a peep leaving his mouth. It’s the friendly thing to do. It also wasn’t anything new between them; Kojiro saw it as one of the perks of having known him for more than half their lives.

And yet, as he helped Kaoru sit on the toilet seat and turned Carla off to preserve her battery, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. What a bad idea. Washing his hair, as if they were an old couple, with habits and routines.

Are you implying that friends can’t have routines? Have you seen how the kids act around each other?

“How are you keeping my cast dry?”

The two men looked at each other, playing a mental game of chess. With all the bandages around Kaoru’s face, the cast had become the last of Kojiro’s concerns, but he was right. Without excusing himself, he retreated back to the kitchen, returning shortly after with a trash bag in one hand and an old beach chair in the other. “S’not perfect, but I think it’ll get the job done.”

“You don’t have to do all this, you know.” Kaoru still had that embarrassed inflection to his tone. It was reminiscent of a time when Kojiro had to make up an excuse or other as to why they kept cutting class. “I know I asked you to—”

“And that’s all there is to it.” Kojiro took a step back from his shower, looking at the chair smack in the middle of the tiled floor. It was a ridiculous setup, but it would work, for now. Hopefully. “You’re my friend, Kaoru. You’re asking for a favor.

“Before you even think of it,” he added, now turning to face the other, trying to figure out where to begin the process. Maybe undressing the bruises would be a good start. “I’m not doing this out of pity. I know you wouldn’t let me if that were the case.”

His hands were shaking again. They were chef’s hands, trained for years to be steady and precise. The experience had roughed them up, with various small slices and healed burns around his fingers and palms serving as evidence of his hard work. They were athlete’s hands, being accustomed to heavy lifting and scraping along the concrete on his board. Hands that held pride in his achievements and deceit in the shape of women. Steady, sturdy hands, goldened by the sun and failing him before his very eyes.

He began with the bulk of the bruises—his jaw. While one hand cupped Kaoru’s chin, the other one removed the tape holding the gauze to his skin, being careful to not tug at it too hard. Gnarly purples and reds came into view, the bruise obviously still fresh. Then he moved to the bandages around his neck, then his head. Neither of them dared speak, even when they winced at the sight or the sensitivity.

The anger was resurfacing. One good punch, right in the nose. That’s all he wanted. “Think you can stand?” Kojiro felt too loud in the small room, even though his voice was low. He took a step back and extended his hands, as if to invite Kaoru to try.

The other’s felt soft. He took good care of them, needing them to make a living. They were polished, well cared for, albeit also scarred from his tinkering with his AI materials and his experience skateboarding. They were pale, seeming bright as they held the other’s. Such a contrast.

Both of them took their time in getting Kaoru to his feet. It was a process, trying to balance him to remove his robe and get him in the shower. Kojiro didn’t bother removing the arm brace; that’s a bridge they could cross later. The big plastic bag was wrapped around the leg cast, with both of them hoping the water would stay out. A messy, bad idea.

It only took Kojiro a minute to strip down to his underwear. He couldn’t afford to get lost in his thoughts again; being shirtless at Crazy Rock, being half-naked with the man consuming every waking second of his life for the last few months—what’s the difference, right? He was making himself dizzy, going in circles.

He turned the faucet on, being careful not to wet Kaoru just yet. The detachable shower head was gripped, and he pointed it at the wall, feeling the steady stream until it was at a comfortable temperature. Then he began. 

The ends of the long hair were first, going up to his scalp, digging his fingers into it to make sure everything got properly wettened. The faucet turned off, and he squirted shampoo onto his palm, feeling automatic; as if this really had been a habit of theirs for the longest time. Why wasn’t it? Why had his cowardice driven him into this cycle of guilt and heightened expectations— why didn’t those girls suffice him? What made him think he could ever compare to the thrill given to Kaoru when Ainosuke was in the mix?

The sound of a sob pulled him out of his thoughts. He furrowed his brows and pulled his hands back, initially thinking he had hurt Kaoru somehow. Maybe he touched an injured area?

“Ru?”

Another sob, followed by a sniffle. It made his heart drop. “Fuck. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

What? “What? What’s wrong?” He was crouching in front of the other before he could give it a second thought. The sight was… it was something he hadn’t seen in a while. His stomach was churning. “Kaoru. Why’re you saying that?”

“I just—” Kaoru paused, trying to breathe, to calm down. He had snot on his red nose, which Kojiro cleaned without a second thought. “I really thought things would change. I didn’t want— didn’t need to win, but shit— I don’t even love him anymore, I just— I wanted to prove that it could— that we could still be friends. That things could go back to when we were kids.”

Eat your fucking heart out, eh, Kojiro?

“Hey.” He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say. His friend, the man he’d been hopelessly head over heels for, got fucked over by the same person in the span of seven years, and was crying his eyes out, injured, in the shower. It brought upon him a horrible feeling of deja vu, and he couldn’t shake it away.

But he could help again. Just like when they were teenagers, directionless and feeling everything all at once. He’d do it over and over if it meant Kaoru would be okay.

His broad arms wrapped around the man, and he didn’t let go, albeit their uncomfortable position. One of his hands was rubbing his back in soothing, circling motions, with the other one hiding in his hair. He felt cold, his body shaking with each little sniffle and sob.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Kojiro wasn’t sure if he was heard. His voice wasn’t much louder than a small mumble. He let go of the hug and cupped Kaoru’s pale cheeks instead, being as mindful as possible of his bruises. His thumbs wiped away the tears as they continued falling, and a chuckle escaped him, feeling his own eyes getting watery. “Fuck him. He’s nothing but wasted potential. You’ve done so much without him and I know you can do so much more.”

If I’d known this is where we’d end up, I would have cut him off ten years ago. Completely separate myself from him and take the opportunity to tell you what I’ve always felt. I know I wouldn’t have stood a chance, I’ve never been what you crave. But I wouldn’t have been such a coward.

“You look so ugly when you cry.”

The two men laughed at the feeble joke. Kojiro didn’t expect Kaoru to do that, but he figured it would happen. Both of them had always had a problem with vulnerability.

“Like you look any better. Your face is the same color as your hair.” He wiped Kaoru’s tears once more, then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Allowing himself just this one thing. “You don’t need someone like that to prove things can still be good, Ru. I believe in you.”

He could tell Kaoru didn’t fully believe the words. And that was okay. He’d be okay.

Kojiro pressed another kiss to his forehead, then his knuckles, praying above all else that the actions could convey everything he was trying to say, as well as everything he felt. I’m here for you. I love you. I love you.

It was back to washing his hair then. Neither of them spoke; there was no need. Kojiro washed, conditioned, detangled Kaoru’s hair, washed his bruises, helped him dry off, and guided him to the bedroom, offering fresh, warm clothes. He even blow-dried his hair and braided it, just like he used to do when they were teens, keeping it out of Kaoru’s face. Now it was just a matter of changing into some new clothes himself, and set up the couch…. His heart wanted to explode, beat straight out of his chest and straight into bed with him.

So he did. The night was full of mistakes and bad ideas, anyway; what’s one more? He lay on his side, watching as Kaoru attempted to do the same, settling about three-fourths of the way there. They were eyeing each other, both of them seeming like they had something to say.

Kaoru went first. “Thank you. You could have just left me back home, or at the emergency room. This means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Kojiro got closer to him, allowing himself to push his hair back, over and over, creating a rhythm. “You mean a lot to me. I’ll help any way I can.”

“Langa completely destroyed you.”

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

Kaoru was holding Kojiro’s hand by then, guiding it to his cheek. Kojiro left it there, softly running his thumb along his thin lips.

“You know I’m beating his ass if he comes near you again, right?”

Kaoru smiled, tired. His eyes were halfway shut. “Nothing in the world would make me happier.”

Kojiro smiled back, the feeling of relief and comfort slowly returning. “Need a lullaby?”

A shake of the head signaling no, followed by a sleepy sigh and closed eyes. “Just stay here. The kids’ll be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, honey.” Honey. Sickly sweet. He pretended he didn’t notice the way his cheek felt hotter against his palm. “They’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

The way Kaoru kissed his thumb sent a jolt down his spine. A bad idea for another day, Kojiro decided. 

He sighed again, keeping his own hand loosely wrapped around his arm. “Goodnight, Kojiro.”

“Goodnight, Ru.”

[bnhayyy]

No Apology Enough

Summary: Ochako sought Bakugou out in the hospital to discuss their shared grief. She didn't expect guilt to make an appearance.

Wordcount: 2.8k

Notes: Contains spoilers for the war arc. Can be found on Ao3 here. If you like it, please consider commenting, sending an ask, or donating to my ko-fi!

She could not stop the rhythmic tap, tap, tap from resonating through the hospital no matter how softly she tried to step. The sound was all-consuming in its quietness, seeming to highlight the silence around it. That hospital itself was not quiet, of course. There was always something to be heard if you strained your ears: the distant beeping of a heart monitor, the squeaking of wheels as orderlies pushed their carts around, the quiet murmuring of doctors, the creaking of doors as they opened and closed, the distant crying of a patient as they encountered a new form of despair.

There was always something to be heard in a hospital. It might be quiet, but it was there. What was absent were the sounds that came with any sort of happy life. It was static, fragile, hopeless. It was the sort of simultaneous noise and silence that made gentle tapping of sneakers against linoleum—the sound of life and motion—stand out starkly.

Ochako didn't remember it being so bad while she was in the hospital, yet now that she was returning for a quick visit, it was suffocating.

The feeling intensified as she drew closer to a certain room. Ochako's pace began to slow without her realizing it, her eyes automatically drawn toward the door. It was plain, with a few papers attached to it. Such an inconspicuous thing, and yet beyond it, she knew—

Did she know? The receptionist had told her that he was still asleep, but the receptionist was only human. Fallible. But him, he was—the thought of him being stuck like that—

Maybe the receptionist was wrong. Or maybe they weren't, but he had only just woken up and they didn't know yet. Or maybe he hadn't, but would if she just went inside. Her presence hadn't changed anything, but maybe this time, if she just hoped a little harder or believed in him a little more, said the right thing or—

No.

Ochako blinked and found her arm outstretched, fingertips millimeters away from brushing the doorknob. When had she walked over to the door?

Her throat felt like it was being scraped by shards of glass as she took a step back. Then another. And another. Finally, she turned back around and continued down the hall. She picked up her pace and balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. There was nothing she could do to keep her eyes from watering, but she handled it by rapidly blinking. It felt like her eyes were mostly dry by the time she reached the door that heralded her destination. Good. This wasn't something she could walk into teary-eyed.

Where the other door had been wood with several papers attached to it, this one was a metal frame surrounding an unobscured pane of plexiglass. A little garden was on the other side. Most of it was composed of a verdant green lawn, but the edges were adorned with bushes, patches of flowers, and little statues of angels.

There was also a stone bench. And on that bench sat a familiar figure.

Ochako took a moment to blink any remaining moisture out of her eyes before pushing the door open.

"Bakugou?"

He shot a look over his shoulder at her call. The motion was quick, but stiff and strained in a way that made Ochako wince. All but a few small bandages had been removed from Bakugou's face, but she could see more under his collar, peeking up from the high-necked shirt he wore.

A pang of guilt echoed in Ochako's chest. She hadn't thought the hospital was too bad, but she hadn't been stuck in it for very long. Bakugou had been stuck for over a week now. He wasn't the only one, she remembered the sorry state Todoroki had been in the last time she'd seen him, yet the thought of someone as explosive and wild as Bakugou being left to waste away stung that much more keenly.

At least Deku doesn't know he... the thought fizzled out before it could finish.

"Round Face?" Bakugou asked. It was only then that she realized it had taken him an unusually long time to respond. Sure, maybe not by other people's standards, but for Bakugou Katsuki, a few seconds might as well be an hour.

It was as she was considering this that Bakugou narrowed his eyes. Ochako frowned and nearly took a step back; had he picked up on the concern that had stepped up to join the guilt? The last thing she wanted was to offend him with her worry.

Then again, a traitorous voice whispered, you didn't help rescue him from the villains because you didn't want to offend him.

Ochako hadn't hurt the odds by staying behind back then. She knew that. Her absence didn't make anything worse—it couldn't have. But it hadn't helped with anything either. She'd lived with that knowledge without it bothering her for months, but now...

"What are you doing here?" Bakugou pressed, his voice sparking with irritation. It was almost a relief. If he was able to get annoyed with her, at least this place hadn't completely crushed his spirit.

"The receptionist told me I could find you here," Ochako said. She felt an uncomfortable tightness in her fingers as she spoke. A quick glance down revealed that she had clasped her hands in front of herself and started wringing them at some point. She resisted the urge to grimace as she forced herself to drop them down to her side.

Bakugou scoffed. "Traitorous old bat," he grumbled. His gaze wandered behind her, as if he could glare at the old lady behind the visitation counter if only he strained hard enough. Or maybe he was looking for something else entirely. Someone else. He stayed that way for several heartbeats before his attention snapped back to Ochako, as if he had never looked away in the first place.

But he had looked. He had looked, and in doing so, the tension that was already hanging in the air had become that much heavier.

"Not that," Bakugou clarified.

"Then why did you call the receptionist a traitorous old bat?" Ochako asked, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could think to try and stop them. Perhaps it was better that she didn't. Anything to loosen the invisible noose that hung around both their necks.

"Because she is!" Bakugou cried. He threw a hand up to run it through his hair. It only got about halfway through before a bandage wrapped around his palm seemed to get caught on a lock. He yanked the hand free with a growl and dropped it into his lap. His eyes followed it, causing him to turn away from Ochako in the process.

Ochako hesitated. There was nothing to do in this situation, it seemed, except hesitate. Unless...

She approached him slowly—carefully. As if he were a predator that would lash out if she misunderstood and did the wrong thing, or maybe a smaller animal, injured and cornered. Maybe he was a bit of both.

He didn't say anything as she sat down next to him. In return, she maintained the silence. She didn't know how long they sat without speaking. Then, in a voice that was neither rough nor fragile, but fractured all the same, he said, "I meant why are you with me and not Deku."

Ochako swallowed heavily. There it was, the billion-yen question. The one she had known was coming but didn't have an answer to. At least, not one that she could trust he would be alright with receiving.

She could just tell him a lie that would appeal to his ego. It would be the easier thing to do. She was almost certain it was what he would be happier with.

It wasn't what he needed, though. And after everything that had happened, everything their class had gone through, what they were still struggling with... the truth could sting even when it was supposed to be soft. It could insult and it could chafe. Yet as she thought about it, maybe there was a degree of respect in telling someone a difficult truth when a lie would be so much easier for everyone.

Bakugou deserved her respect, even if only in return for giving her his. Did he know, she wondered, the weight that held in her heart?

It wasn't just respect returned though. It couldn't be. They might not have been as close to each other as some of their classmates, but the fact remained...

"He isn't my only friend in the hospital," Ochako said.

Bakugou snorted, but didn't rebuff her remark. It was an admittedly low bar. It was enough. It gave her the will to push forward, her voice lowering ever so fractionally as she continued, "and... I know I'm not the only one struggling with it."

She didn't know how, yet despite the fact that he was looking down and away from her, if asked, Ochako would have sworn that she saw Bakugou's expression darken.

"I shouldn't," Bakugou said. The heavy tone of his voice made Ochako squirm, but before she could attempt to piece together a response, he continued, "I don't have the right."

That made her pause.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Bakugou's head twitched fractionally, like he was going to look at her, but his gaze ultimately remained on the ground. Ochako felt her hands twitch in agitated frustration.

"Caring about someone isn't something you have to earn, Bakugou," she said. "Especially not when they're hurt like this!"

"You don't get it!" Bakugou snapped. He finally looked up to reveal eyes that were growing red around the rims and a glare that managed to convey more despair than anger. "You have eyes, don't you! I've treated him like shit. And it used to be worse. Way fucking worse.”

His voice cut off with a strangled noise that sounded like it should be an expression of rage. She knew it wasn't. Not rage that was geared toward her or Deku, anyway.

“What do you mean?” Ochako tentatively asked.

Bakugou scoffed. "Isn't it obvious?"

He paused, all too clearly waiting for a response. When she failed to give him anything but silence and a soft, questioning gaze, he looked back down at his feet.

"Bakugou," Ochako pressed, her voice only just loud enough to reach him. "What do you mean by worse?"

Silence. His jaw flexed and relaxed several times. It was an odd sight to see on someone who was usually so quick to say whatever was on his mind. As the silence dragged on, nervous energy began to gather in her hands. She placed them in her lap and wove her fingers together in the hope that it might eliminate it. No such luck. Ochako stared blankly at them for a few seconds before looking back up at Bakugou. He was still staring at his feet, looking very much lost in his own mind.

Did I push too far?

The thought was accompanied by the feeling of her heart threatening to sink into her stomach. She bit her lower lip and tried to push the feeling down, only for it to intensify instead.

Just as Ochako moved to open her mouth, Bakugou began, "A lot of that shit isn't mine to say."

Ochako unclasped her hands and sat up a little straighter. Suddenly, that urge to move was nowhere to be found.

"But I gave Deku a lot of grief because he... because he wasn't as strong as me. Because I didn't want him to have the chance to get stronger than me." Bakugou looked up, and for a second, his gaze caught hers. That look managed to say what his voice didn't. It said, I was scared. And maybe he still was, because although he didn't look back down at the ground, he did break eye-contact before he continued. "Then, just before UA, I said something fucking unforgivable. And now he's like this."

Ochako's swallowed even though it felt like her throat was full of razors. "Whether it's forgivable or not... that's not for you to decide," she said.

"Only a moron would forgive something like that," Bakugou growled.

"Well, maybe you have to be a little bit of a moron to be a good person. And Deku's a very good person."

Bakugou's gaze twitched a little more to the side, a little further away from her line of sight. She thought she saw his eyes glisten.

"Have you talked to him about it?" she asked.

Bakugou took a deep, rasping breath. The sound of it almost made her wince. "A little," he said. "During the fight."

Ochako opened her mouth—and shut it immediately. A voice in her head nagged her to ask what had happened, but a subtle yet unwavering ache in her chest said that it wasn't any of her business. Whatever had happened, it clearly hadn't been enough to put his heart and mind at ease.

"You can always talk some about it together," she suggested. "After... after he wakes up."

The breath seemed to leave her chest as the words left her lips. Had that been the right thing to say? Already she felt herself tensing, prepared to argue in defense of optimism if Bakugou tried to assume the worst.

Instead, he let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he murmured.

And that—the sheer exhaustion he radiated—was almost worse.

"Hey." Ochako's body moved without thinking. She reached out to press the palm of her hand against Bakugou's face, one pinky carefully pulled back. The warmth of his skin against hers was a jolt to her senses, but not as much as his eyes opening and latching onto hers, making her breath catch in her throat, just for a moment. Yet somehow, somehow, she managed to keep talking. "There's also something else you can do."

"Oh yeah?" His voice was challenging, a bit of that edge creeping back in, but he didn't pull away from her touch. Not yet. And that, more than anything, spoke volumes. It helped her to smile. Not because she was happy, but not because she was forcing it either. She smiled because he needed it. They both did.

"Yeah," she said. "You can try to get better. As a hero, but also as a friend, as a civilian... as a person." Something in Bakugou's expression faltered, but she carried on. "I know that Deku believes in you, and it sounds like he's seen you at your worst. So when he wakes up... let him see you at your best."

In the seconds that followed, neither of them spoke. There was no room for words in the lingering void left by the person that wasn't there. It was a weight that would haunt both of them until Izuku was a waking part of their lives once more. However, a few seconds could not last forever. Bakugou nodded, and she dropped her hand back into her lap.

"Yeah," Bakugou said. "I might do that." He paused for a heartbeat before chuckling, a grin that might have worried her at another time spreading across his face. Instead, she just felt relieved. "Sleeping dumbfuck will never see it coming. I'll make him piss himself in amazement!"

Ochako couldn't quite take his bold vulgarity at face value. There was still a whisper of something pained and hesitant behind his eyes. It was progress though—in more ways than one.

"I look forward to it," she said.

"You should." Bakugou stood up. It looked like it was meant to be a bold, sudden motion, but it struck her as stumbling and difficult. Unable to help herself, Ochako winced and began to extend a hand, only for him to wave her off. "If I can walk without crutches, I sure as hell can walk without someone holding my hand," he said.

Said. Not yelled. Said. Ochako allowed a hint of a smile to pull at her lips. "Alright."

"I'm gonna head back to my room before the nurses flip their shit," he added.

Ochako nodded. "Alright. I... think I'll stay here for a little while." She glanced around the little garden, with its bushes and flowers—an oasis of respite in a place of misery. "It's peaceful."

"It's boring as shit," Bakugou grumbled.

"Some of us like boring sometimes," Ochako shot back.

Bakugou snorted. "You have shit taste." With that, he hobbled over to the hospital door. He didn't look back at her as he called, "see you around, Round Face."

Then it was just her and the garden—which was just as well. She had a lot to think about.

[bonnyskies]

stress reliever ⇢ jjk

after failing your first semester of college, you find yourself at a nearby bar, drinking your problems away with a complete stranger. a very attractive stranger. and after consuming so many drinks, you were expecting nothing more than a hangover the next day. what you didn’t expect though, was the same exact stranger laying beside you the next morning—completely bare, or your parents suddenly showing up at your apartment the same day, unannounced.

pairing — tattooed!jungkook x student!malereader

genre — fluff, sexual themes, non idol au

warnings — swearing, alcohol and drug use, implications of sex, mentions of strict parents, slight age gap

word count — 1.9k

masterlist

You couldn’t believe it. After many months of attending tutoring sessions, spending late nights on homework and projects, and mansions worth of money spent on classes. You come to find out that you failed your first semester of college. That meant having to retake the same exact classes you failed again.

You didn’t know long you’ve been walking—trying to ease your stressed mind—or how you ended up at some rundown bar, but next thing you knew you found yourself sitting at the dirty counter with a half-filled glass of water in your hand. The scent of cigarettes and many different alcoholic beverages filling your nostrils.

The sound of heavy-metal music blasting in the background created migraines inside your head, forcing you to shut your eyes from the extreme discomfort.

“This doesn’t seem like your kind of place, kid.” The sudden comment causes you to turn towards the source of the voice, your eyes landing on a very attractive stranger sitting a couple seats away from you, a lit cigarette in one hand and a shot glass in the other. “You don’t look old enough to even be in here.”

You rolled your eyes at the stranger before snapping, “How about you focus on your drink and I’ll focus on mine, okay? Okay.”

“And who are you calling kid?” You continued, shifting in your seat to where you were fully facing him now. “You don’t look that much older than me,” you added, finishing your cup of water and slamming the empty glass onto the counter.

The stranger only laughed, taking his shot of alcohol with complete ease. “Jungkook,” he then reached over and held his hand out, which you stared at hesitantly before shaking it and answering, “{Name}.”

“So, {Name}...,” the stranger—Jungkook starts, his lips curling up into a teasing smirk, placing his lit cigarette onto the ashtray and turning to fully face you, as you were too him. “What is a person like you doing in a filthy bar like this? This place doesn’t exactly fit you,” he points out, glancing down at the simple choice of clothes you were wearing. Which consisted of a pair of skinny jeans and long-sleeve shirt.

“I just wanted a drink,” you only said, raising your empty glass towards him and giving him a sarcastic smile.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Jungkook instantly replied, shaking his head. “Judging by how angrily you were drinking your...water,” he smirks, “There’s something wrong.” When you didn’t say anything, he continued. “Come on, tell me. It’s not like we’ll run into each other again after tonight. What could possibly happen if you tell me what’s wrong?”

He was right. You needed someone to rant about your problems to, and after tonight, you surely weren’t going to see him again. So, you told him everything. About how you failed your first semester of college, and how you have to tell your parents that you’d have to retake those classes, the same exact classes they spent thousands of their own money on.

“And you’re scared to see how your parents are going to react,” Jungkook finishes. “You shouldn’t be worried, it’s not that serious. I’m sure your parents will understand.”

“My parents are very strict,” you stated, sighing. “I’m scared of disappointing them.” You dropped your head onto the bar’s counter, groaning. Suddenly, you felt Jungkook’s hand on the lower part of your back, causing your entire body tense. And when glancing up at him, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks redden when seeing the smirk on his lips.

“I think you could use a drink,” he says before getting bartender’s attention. You watched as he ordered another shot of whatever he just drinking before he sat beside you, your eyes glancing down towards his arms, one of them being completely covered in tattoos. You couldn’t help but admire the unique designs of black ink that decorated his muscular arm.

“I’m underage,” you informed him, tearing your eyes away from his decorated skin and pushing the shot glass that was given to you back to him.

“Don’t worry.” Jungkook smiles reassuringly, pushing the shot glass back towards you. “I know the owner of this place. He won’t tell anyone.” He adds, grabbing the other glass that the bartender handed him and swallowed it down without any trouble. “And plus,” he then places his hand onto your thigh, smirking at the blush that crept onto your cheeks and the feeling of your body tensing underneath his touch. “This’ll help relieve some of that stress you’re feeling right now.”

You stared at the glass with hesitation. “Alcohol isn’t the answer.” You expected Jungkook to argue with you about your statement but he just laughed, shaking his head.

“I know another way to relieve stress, but I’m sure a good boy like you wouldn’t want to do.” You raised a brow at him, about to ask what he meant, but when noticing the seductive smirk on his lips and seeing the way his eyes scanned over your body...you knew exactly what meant.

“Oh,” was the only thing that could come out of your mouth. And without saying anything else, you grabbed the shot glass and took the shot of alcohol down your throat, wincing at the burning sensation inside.

Let’s just say the rest night was a complete blur to you.

Morning came, and the bright sunlight shining through your room’s currents proved to be unbearable for you as the sunlight burned into your eyelids, forcing them open. Your vision was blurry, mind was aching, and you couldn’t ignore the sharp pain you were currently feeling in your body’s lower region.

When you sat up from your bed, you noticed that you were completely naked, your neck and chest covered with numerous love bites. The sound of someone snoring softly beside you caused you to turn towards that person, your widening at the sight of a stranger sleeping beside you—who was also naked. At first, you didn’t know who that person was. That was until you noticed the very familiar tattooed arm. Jungkook.

“Oh my god,” you gasped silently, panicking, your mouth gaped open as you slowly took the covers off from your body and stood up from your bed, careful not to wake him. You walked over to your dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and overlarge shirt. And when putting them on, you noticed in your body-sized mirror more marks that covered your body. You noticed how there was more love bites on your thighs and back, and your hips bruised with large handprints.

After dressing into some clothes, you quietly stepped out of your room and entered your apartment’s kitchen, your eyes landing on your very tired-looking roommate. “Look who’s finally awake.”

“Hey...,” you mumbled, wincing at the painful migraine your head was suffering from. “How’s your morning?”

“I’m exhausted,” your roommate only said, taking a sip of her steaming coffee. “That man you brought home sure knew what he was doing. You were really loud last night.”

You could feel your cheeks blushing mildly, lowering head and refusing to meet your roommate’s stare. Suddenly, you heard knocking on your apartment’s door, causing you stare confusingly at the old, brownish colored door. “Who’s that?”

“That’s probably your parents.”

“W-What?...,” you froze, feeling your heart completely stop. Eyes-wide, you rushed towards the door and stared through the tiny peephole, and she was right. There stood both of your parents on the other side. “Shit,” you cursed, “Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?”

“What do you mean?” Your roommate stared at you with disbelief, scoffing. “You are the one who told me that they are coming today when you got home last night.”

“Oh my god,” you cried out, running your hands frustratingly over your face. “They can’t be here when he’s here!” You exclaimed, pointing back towards your room.

“Yeah,” your roommate agreed, nodding her head. “They won’t be happy to find out that their nineteen-year-old son slept with a twenty-four-year-old stranger with tattoos, who does drugs and drinks. I could practically smell the alcohol and cigarettes coming off from him when he entered our apartment.”

You stared at your roommate, raising a brow. “Wait, how do know his age?” Before saying anything, your roommate lifted up a wallet that was left on the counter. “Your friend left his wallet here before following you back to your room.”

“He’s not my friend,” you rolled your eyes. “And can you please distract them long enough so that I’m able to change and get him out of here?” You didn’t wait for your roommate’s answer before running back and barging into your room, wincing at the sound of a loud groan coming from the man you wanted out of your apartment as soon as possible.

“Shit,” Jungkook cursed, his voice was raspy—and quite attractive, but you couldn’t focus on that right now. “What time is it?” He asked, slowly sitting up from your bed and rubbing his hands over his eyes. You couldn’t help but admire his toned chest, your own eyes widening at the sight of the marks you left on him, noticing the faint love bites on his neck and collarbone, and red scratches down his muscular back.

“I-It’s nearly eight,” you stuttered, swallowing the lump in your throat. Jungkook glanced up at you through his squinted eyes, smirking. “Well good morning to you, sweetheart.”

“Good morning,” you found yourself smiling, but quickly reached down and grabbed his clothes from last night, dropping them onto his lap. “Under any other circumstance, I would’ve asked you to stay for breakfast, but sadly I need you to go, like now.”

“Ouch,” Jungkook winced teasingly, placing his hand over his heart, acting as if he was hurt from your words. He stood up from your bed and began to dress back into his clothes from yesterday. “Already wanting to get rid of me?”

“It’s not like that,” you frowned. You felt guilty for treating him like this, especially since he was so kind to you last night. “It’s just that my parents are here right now and they-”

“And they don’t know you’re gay?” Jungkook assumed.

“No, they know.” You corrected him, turning your back towards him as he changed, fighting the urge to peak. “They just won’t be happy that I’ve slept with a complete stranger with tattoos, and who smokes and drinks...”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly the perfect type, am I?” You frowned, feeling even more guilty when hearing the hurt tone in his voice. “I’ll just leave from your fire escape so that your parents won’t have to see me. You can just give me back my wallet later, you can find my number inside.”

You turned back and watched as he approached your window. But before he could manage to step through it and outside, you found yourself reaching towards him and grasping onto his leather jacket’s sleeve, stopping him from leaving. “Wait,” you paused, loosening your grip on his jacket. And without saying else, you leaned forward and pressed your lips gently against his, immediately feeling him kiss back with his hands finding their way onto your waist.

Jungkook was the one to pull away, breathing heavily as he stared confusingly at you. “What was that for?”

“How about we go out for lunch after my parents leave? I’ll pay.” You offered, smiling.

“That sounds good, but I’m paying.” Jungkook nods, giving a small grin. “You can pay me back another way,” he then smirks, running his thumb over your lips, remembering all the sinful things you’ve done with them just last night. “Just call me when you’re ready, and I’ll come back and pick you up.”

“O-Okay,” you managed to stutter out, feeling him kiss your forehead before leaving. You watched as he then climbed down your fire escape, a smile never leaving your lips.

Perhaps failing your first semester of college wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXVIII

January 14, 2278.

I woke up feeling confused.

Percy?

My wife?

Impossible. A ghoul marrying a smoothskin? Fucking insane.

I don’t think I’m even made for something as… normal as marriage. All my skills are geared towards killing and destroying. How can I even build a life with her?

Some people marry out of love, don’t they? My parents did, and they were happy together. When I was little, during their wedding anniversary, they’d leave me with someone else to look after me. Before she went away to study, Aunt Katya would do that for them. After she’s gone, it was whoever babysitter they can find.

They would always come home the next day with smiles on their faces.

When we started to become poorer, they’d spend the evening in the house, a lone candle illuminating the kitchen, and they’d dance to the radio in silence. My mother would look at my father with uncertain eyes, and he'd kiss the worries away.

“Annika, moya solnyshko, we’re going to be fine.”

Solnyshko. If I recall correctly, it’s a term of endearment in my parents’ language. I think it meant ‘little sun’.

I sighed and turned to Percy, still asleep, resting peacefully as the sunlight streamed from the windows and illuminated her face.

Is that something I want to do with Percy?

Hold her in my arms through thick and thin? Call her silly little things out of affection?

Is it love that drives me to dream of being her husband? Or is she just too involved in my life now for me to think of someone else?

Some people married out of convenience, after all. Like Aunt Katya.

I remember bringing the rings on her wedding day. She was already heavy with child, dressed in white. I couldn’t remember if it was in the year 2069 or 2070, but obviously, it was before I was taken away for indoctrination.

“Tetushka,” I remember addressing her during the reception. “Who is he?”

“Artyom, this is Nathaniel. He’s the man I married, and he’s going to be your uncle. Don’t be shy, say hi.”

The man steps closer, and kneels. He had some stubble on his jaw, square and shapely, and his hair is cut neatly, like the soldiers I see on posters.

“So this is the nephew you were talking about, Kitty. Hey there sport,” he greets extending his hand. I remember reluctantly giving him a handshake.

“I know this is all so sudden, but he’s part of the family now,” Aunt Katya explains, smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I think it’s time for the toast, dear. We wouldn’t want to miss it.” Nathan interrupts, whisking my aunt away and giving me a nod and a wink.

That night, as my father drove us home, he spoke to me.

“Artyom, could you make me a promise?”

“What kind of promise papa?”

“Promise me, when you grow up and if you decide to marry someone, make sure that you marry out of love, like I did with your mother. Don’t be like your aunt Katya.”

“I promise,” I tell him. “But what’s wrong with aunt Katya?”

“Ilya, I think we should save this conversation for another day. Our Artyom might be too young,” my mother tells father.

“Nonsense. It’s never too early to let him know. Artyom, your tetushka married that man because she thought she couldn’t take care of a baby on her own. I’m not sure if she loves Nathan, and that’s what scares me. Your auntie is strong. But I’m not sure how she will handle a marriage with uncertain feelings. It could destroy her.”

I blinked a few times. It was too heavy for me to understand back then.

“I think what your father is trying to say, Artyom,” my mother adds, “Is when people marry and start a family, they usually live together under one roof, like your papa and I. When you marry someone and live under one roof with someone you do not love, life can become difficult.”

“I think I understand, mama.”

I do understand now.

My reminiscing got interrupted when Percy cracked one eye open, and reached for me.

“Hey. Good morning, big guy. You slept well?”

I nodded.

“Let’s get some breakfast.”

After waking Butch up, the three of us packed our sleeping bags and went outside to start a fire. The dawn is just breaking, the horizon hazy. I can’t remember being this up early. Our sleep schedule was borderline nocturnal.

As the Cram sizzled on the clean sheet of metal we used to cook on while travelling, Percy was heating some clean water over the fire as well. She used it to rehydrate the Instamash, and the rest went into a cup. My partner then takes out a small sachet, the label washed out, but I can still see what it was.

“Found this in a coat pocket from Moira’s gifts the other day,” she giggles. “Hot chocolate!”

My eyes widened. Damn, I haven’t seen one of those after the war. Is it even safe to consume?

“Man, I miss the food in the vault. Lemme have some,” DeLoria exclaims, excited.

Percy pours it in the cup and stirs it with a spoon. She takes a sip, passes it to Butch, who wrinkles his nose, then to me. Well, if we can still eat Cram after 200 years of it sitting on some shelf, I think I’ll be fine with this ancient hot chocolate.

It’s hot. Comforting. The flavor is a little rancid, but what else is new with these preserved Pre-War foods? It’s still somewhat sweet. The nostalgia I felt for the life I left behind grew. I look into the cup, the dark liquid swirling, reminding me of Percy’s eyes. Then, I pass it back to her.

“You were smiling in your sleep,” Percy quips, looking at me with eyes still heavy with sleep. “Dreamed of something nice?”

Despite the cold, I feel the warmth spreading through me. Of fucking course I just can’t tell her that I dreamed that I wasn’t a monster, and she is my wife, and we had a son who looked like her while we’re frolicking at a beach in California. I have to think of something else.

“I dreamed DeLoria fell down the stairs.”

Percy almost spat out her drink laughing. Butch gives me a dirty look. “Yeah, real funny, you bastard,” he groans.

I couldn’t help but laugh at my own lie, too.

Butch put the fire out with snow, and we’re off again, heading west. The sun’s rising in the east, warming our backs as we pressed on. By the time we got to Lamplight, the sun’s risen, but was blocked out by clouds.

We approached the cavern entrance, and followed the trail inside. There, MacCready is still keeping watch.

“Hey, we got your friends back. Can we come in now?” Percy shouts, keeping a safe distance.

“I guess you’re okay after all, for a mungo. But you better not piss me off!”

As the three of us approached the gate, the kid pointed his rifle at DeLoria.

“Hey wait a second, you weren’t with them when they first came here,” he barks, suspicious.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless. He’s gonna watch out stuff for us while we go in Vault 87,” Percy explains, pulling Butch’s arm hurriedly.

“Who the fuck are you?” the mayor asks Butch, and of course the moron puffed his chest out.

“I’m Butch! I lead a gang called the Tunnel Snakes and I helped them get your friends outta Paradise Falls too!”

“What kind of dumbshit name is Tunnel Snakes?”

Okay, I can’t fucking help it. I am laughing. This kid is just fine.

As DeLoria squabbles with MacCready, Percy sits down in a corner to catch her breath and rest, and I join her. Soon, some of the kids started gathering around us, and among them were the children we rescued from Paradise.

“It’s the ghost and the zombie that saved us!” one of them exclaimed, running towards us.

“Zombie isn’t a nice word to call him, kid. He’s called a ghoul,” Percy tells her, voice a little softer than her usual speaking tone.

“A pretty ghost and a scary ghoul saved you? Wow!”

Soon, the voices of the children grew louder as they chattered about us, the odd group of mungos allowed in the cave.

I felt uncomfortable as the children poked around and asked us so many questions. Some of them are too afraid to come closer to me, while some openly try to climb on my back and gingerly touch some of my scars. I guess the dream I had about having one will remain a dream. These children are exhausting to be around.

Yet Percy takes it all in stride, answering every question they ask her, showing off her stuff, and regaling them with tales from our travels. She’d gently pet the hair of one of the little girls who huddled next to her, and her patience didn’t waver as one of the boys accidentally spilled their Nuka Cola on her jacket.

She reminds me of my own mother. I’m sure she’d be a great mother if she ever decides to be one.

And when that happens, I’m not going to be the one by her side.

“Percy! Tell us another story,” one of the children, who was called Knock Knock, asks my partner, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“I think I’ve already told you all of my stories.”

“Well, you can always make one up,” another little girl, the one called Bumble, suggests.

“Hmm…”

Eyes flicking towards me, Percy offers the children a soft smile.

“Long ago, there was a young maiden, living in a fortress with steel walls. The most important rule was one was allowed to go in and out of the fortress.” Percy starts, leaning her head towards me.

“A maiden? Why not a princess? Princesses lived in fortresses, right? Or was it a castle?”

“Shut up, Zip! Don’t interrupt her.”

Chuckling, Percy clears her throat and continues. “She kept to herself, and kept herself busy with plants and books. The maiden was content with living in the fortress, but she always wondered what the world beyond them looked like. One night, while the maiden was exploring the lower levels of the fortress, a horrible beast took her away, and captured her. He put her in an invisible cage, which keeps her under his control.”

I think I know who this maiden is.

“Oh no, is she okay? Who saved her?”

“We’ll get to that soon. The maiden was kept in a cage for so long, that she thought that she'd never get out. Then, one night, word got around that someone left the fortress. In her desire to see the world, she grips the bars of the invisible cage, and bends it, finally escaping.”

The children were listening in awe. “What happens to the girl? Does she escape the fortress?”

“Yes, and she had to face the monster that captured her in doing so. In a show of courage, she wields a sword, and takes his head off in one slice.”

“Coooool,” one of the kids exclaimed.

“Then, she starts looking for her father. But she couldn’t do it alone. There were many dangers in the world outside the fortress. So, she looks for someone who can watch her back.”

“Is it a knight? Or a prince?”

“Hmm. No, her companion is neither of those. He’s something else.”

“What is he?”

“A ferryman.”

“What’s a ferryman, Percy?”

“Have you kids ever heard of a boat? A ferryman is in charge of running that boat.”

“Oh, so they rode through a boat?”

“Yeah. They did. This ferryman, all he knew before he met the maiden was to take the souls of people and deliver them to Death. Kind of like the Grim Reaper. Everyone’s gotta die some time, and it was his job to ensure that they make it to the other side.”

“Yikes! Why would she ask someone like that to watch her back?”

Percy pauses, unsure what to answer. Her eyes flick to her lap, then, she smiles at one of the kids.

“Because, the maiden knows better than to judge a book by its cover. Turns out, the ferryman was one of the most reliable, bravest, and kindest people outside the fortress, but he’s stuck to his job. So, they burn the boat, and the maiden, instead of facing Death, runs away with the ferryman. The end.”

“Wow, that was boring,” one of the boys quipped, which earned him an elbow from one of the girls.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing!”

“Aw, that can’t be the end! What happens to them after?”

“Do they fall in love?”

A short chortle escaped Percy. “That’s a story for another day. My friend and I need to get going.”

Bumble looks up to Percy with big, begging eyes. “Promise us you’ll tell the rest when you come back, please?”

A chorus of “Please, Percy” fills the cave. I couldn’t help but snort at the overwhelmed look on Percy’s face. Then, she gave them a quick nod, to which they responded with cheers.

“Alright big guy, time for us to go into the Vault. Wait, where’s Butch?”

On the opposite side of the cave, surrounded by mostly boys, including MacCready himself, Butch was shouting and cheering.

“Tunnel Snakes rule!”

“Tunnel Snakes rule!” the boys echoed.

We laughed at the scene. “Hey, looks like Butch have new gang members in no time.”

Striding towards DeLoria, Percy dumps the gear we didn’t need to bring near his feet. She takes off her leather jacket and scarf, and her sneaking suit’s helmet protracted over her face. It was a curious sight for the children, looking at her with bewildered eyes.

“Look after the stuff, Butch. If we don’t come back in eight hours, get help from the Brotherhood.”

“Got it. What but what if something else comes through the door?”

“If it’s not with us, shoot it. Help the kids defend this place.”

Butch gulps. “I… uh…”

“There are spare guns and grenades in one of the packs. You helped us with Paradise, Butch. You can handle this,” Percy encourages him, rubbing the back of his palm gently.

I look away.

“You’re right. See you in a few hours.”

Following a teenage boy who introduced himself as Joseph, who turned out to be the brother of one of the children we got out of the slave pen, we were led to a terminal which accesses a door to the vault. No one bothered to write down the password, so Percy cracked her knuckles and started typing away eagerly.

Eyes still fixated on the glowing green monitor, she had that determined look on her face again.

The door hisses open, and we step in. It was unnaturally cold and silent.

“This is it, Charon. We’re so close.”

[midas-or-khaos]

Wrong place, Wrong time. Part 1

God of war x borrower oc story

“-And remember, DON’T touch anything! Reavers aren’t exactly a clean bunch,” a gurgling followed. “Ugh, really bad at keeping anything clean in fact.” The poor man really could be a worry wart at times (and a clean freak as always).

“Sindri, I’ll be fine. I promise! Cross my heart and everything. The whetstone will probably be kept somewhere safe if it’s precious enough to be stolen, so it’ll hopefully be clean when I find it.”

“Oh. Well, I hadn’t thought of that. Just...stay safe ok? And don’t get caught!”

“I won’t, I never do. See you soon!”

Reluctantly the dwarf answered,“See you soon jojo.” But the poor dwarf’s knee couldn’t stop shaking, thinking about worst case scenarios. Jojo knew he’d just have to prove poor Sindri wrong once again. Maybe one of these days he’d actually learn there was no use worrying himself into a frenzy. Taking off, the 5 inch figure wasn’t stopped as he scurried along natural ledges in walls, and began his descent into the heart of the earth.

Jojo didn’t see what all the worry was for. One of the few perks of being a borrower was often big folk like Reavers or monsters were always too busy looking ahead for bean sized people, that they never looked far enough down to see him. He knew the dwarf didn’t like asking him for help, even though the boy often came to Sindri’s shop outside ‘Fafnir’s storeroom’ (or whatever he called it) asking for challenges and new borrowing spots.

Most borrowers would call it suicide to be talking to beans and other big folk, ESPECIALLY with all the new monsters that have started popping up recently. Hel walkers they’re called apparently. But Jojo wasn’t most. He’d sought out his favourite Dwarf and brother when his parents died drowning in the lake of nine when the waters suddenly flooded, leaving their 8 year old son to fend for himself. Not immediately, obviously. No, at that point he was still a weedy little scaredy cat himself, not able to be even in the same area when footstep started to shake the earth. It could only last so long though. He hadn’t been old enough to be taken out borrowing before being left alone, and supplies ran low quickly. So, spurt of the desperate, when he saw the two set up shop outside his home in the foothills, the child decided to stride right out into the open and ask for food.

4 years later and he still never regretted that decision. Still scrawny, “the side effect of being young” said Brok, but definitely more confident. Brok taught him a lot of that confidence (and a whole lot of swear words too, despite Sindri’s attempts to undo his brother’s work) and Sindri taught him kindness and generosity. The generosity was only spent on the brothers, because who else was he going to see? No borrower would trust another that hung around beans, and Sindri wouldn’t let him be found by anyone if he had anything to say about it, but kindness he tried to show all IF he could without getting sliced in half.

Gathering focus for the change in environment, the world became darker. White, natural light was flittering out, slowly being replaced by the ethereal glow of blue crystals bouncing off liquid smooth stone corridors leading into a fatal drop. An underground ravine. Nothing had shown its face yet, though the odd grunt of some undead beastie would make itself known now and then. Being so small meant there was no need to cross the water below, or find ways to get the chain ropes down so as to climb across. All he had to do was stick close to the roof where stalactites could be leapt between till he reached some valley in the wall to rest. Nothing too hard. Looking for the fist place to jump, a low hanging spine was just a couple of feet away (to Jojo); taking a leap of faith, the boy managed to snag the tail end. Right, next one. Leaping like a lemur the drop was easily avoided, and soon something came into view. Sunlight yellow was beginning to mix with the unnatural blue, and Jojo knew there was an opening into the outside world around the corner. Good, finally he would be able to see, though he would be easier to spot in the illumination of day.

Sindri

How had Brok convinced him to let Jojo go treasure hunting alone? So many traps, monsters, ancients even! “He’ll be fine” said Brok when the two had discussed it together during one of their rare ‘chats for important matters’. So nonchalantly Brok threw out, “Kid’s never been seen before, he ain’t gonna be now!” We’ll that was just testing fate wasn’t it! The rhythmic thumping of hammer to metal was doing nothing to take his mind off the matter, and a few too many near misses to his thumb told Sindri he wasn’t going to get any real work done at this rate. Perhaps he should have a break and go visit Ivaldi’s workshop?

“Hey Sindri!”

“Agh!!!!” Both hammer and work went flying overhead, just missing the flat of his skull. The lithe boy in question at least had the gall to go red, abashed as he walked over to the Dwarf’s workbench, scratching at the buzzed fuzz across the side his head.

“Sorry.”

“Well you should be! That could’ve hurt you OR me, and all the infections that could get in-”

“Boy, be careful.”

The source of the voice sat further back up the slate corridor, hidden in shadow, hawkish gold glowed beneath a heavy brow.

“Sorry father.” Atreus called back to the hidden figure.

With meaningful strides, the figure came into the light of day, bleach white skin, jet black beard and a crimson tattoo striped across an eye setting the figure apart as none other than his worst fear. Kratos. Why? Why were these two here?

“What brings you two to my place of work to scare me?”

Leaning on the edge of his (freshly cleaned) work bench, the spritely youth explained with excitement, “We’re gonna get that whetstone you wanted!”

Shit! He’d mentioned that to them, hadn’t he? Why had they come to fulfill that promise now, when they seemed so disinterest in before?

“O-o-ooooohhhhh yeahhhhhhh, THAT whetstone. Well...”

Atreus leaned in with a head tilt and a brow lifted, “...well? What’s wrong, did you find it already?”

“No-“

“-No? Then what’s the problem?”

“Speak clearly, we have come for the promise of improvements.” Straight to the point, both father and son were on edge now.

Damn it, he was digging a hole for himself again. Stupid mouth. Obviously, if the two of them went in those mines, there was a chance his kid would get spotted and wearing that rat skin outfit, either of the pair could mistake Jojo for an actual rat and hit him with something. Oooooo, that’s horrifying, don’t think about that! Ughhhh don’t vomit! Don’t-...But On the other hand, there was a chance that the father/son duo could clear the way and make it safer for his boy to get back. And more searching eyes makes for less work. Sindri would just have to encourage them not to be too... liberal with their killing.

“Yes the offer is still there, but you must heed this warning.”

“You mentioned no warning before, why?” The irritation lacing the bestial man’s tone didn’t keep itself hidden, growls billowing out that barrel chest. The dwarf didn’t shirk away like a turtle. Not at all.

“O-oh-well-I didn’t know before. Bbbbut I got new information...from Brok. He said not tooooooo... kill the ratssssss?”

The growls took a higher pitch.

“Errrrr, ok? Are the rats protected are something?” Quizzed Atreus, bringing the blacksmith off the subject of the terrifying god before him. A perfect excuse.

“YES! Yes, sorry, the rats are the protected subjects of Freya. Wouldn’t want to upset her right?!”

“Oh! Well, she never mentioned that when we met her.” These two met FREYA! Of course they had, who was he kidding, they’d met everyone and probably started a fight with them too.

“Must’ve slipped her mind, now hurry up! Don’t want any drauger or wolves to get their disgusting hands all over it! Otherwise it’ll be so dirty even I won’t be able to clean it!”

The excuse was enough. The two turned (but not before the kid’s enthusiastic good bye) and disappeared below the cramped passage into the inky black mines, their footsteps echoing out.

“Please let this be the right idea.” Huffed out Sindri with stale, held breath, shaking his head at his own recklessness.

Jojo

Making the last of his descent down the sheer cliff walls, vibrant green broke the dead stone and made life at the edge of the darkness. The sweet ache from overworked tendons and muscles began the slow process of slipping away, fresh air and bird song rejuvenating the boy’s ambition to find his prize, a grin pulling at bubbly cheeks. He was halfway now! Strolling through the ivy, form barely making a rustle, sunlight illuminated the boy’s way through the thickets. Brok mentioned that before he reached the main chamber where the actual traps and treasure was kept, there was a ‘small’ field for him to cross with bits of precious metals along the way. Jojo knew he’d need to make height soon in order to know where he was going, but this time it’d have to be calculated; all black stood out in all this greenery. Now where to go? Rocks. He could use the rocks as an outpost to look out: dark coloured, easy to climb and easy to blend into. Just a matter of reaching it. Strolling through the ivy, the speckled light beaming on the crumbled earth was just enough to guide the way forward, boots barely making a sound.

Squawk

Stopping dead, a cold trail prickled along his back. The boy made the slowest tilt back possible to peak throught the canopy, trying to avoid detection. Too late, looking with a ghostly green eye, a monsterous raven was stalking with keen interest, perched almost serenely upon it’s watch point. Ravens weren’t notorious borrower hunters, seeing people like him often as a chore to catch and consume. But rats...rats were their favourite.

And he was dressed as one.

Atreus

“Father, what do you think had Sindri so shook?”

“Anything, boy. The dwarf has a talent for fear.” No denying that, agreed the doe eyed boy. Sindri did fear just about everything.

Crouching did nothing for the chalk giant, disgruntled grunts sounding out amongst the overhead drips of droplets every time his bald head scraped the sandpaper rough ceiling. It’s one of the few examples in life that made Atreus happy to be short. Yowls were coming from further into the mineshaft, but drauger were a minor setback, easily dispatched.

“Be on your guard boy, we are nearing danger.”

Jojo

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-“ How could one bird be more persistent then all the drauger in the world?

SSSSSQQQQUUUUUAAAAAARRRRRRRKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!

Too close! Every attack was only wearing the borrower down more; the saving grace from this endless stream of dive bombs was that in the bird’s haste, it made enough flapping to give its location away at all times, making it easier to dodge. But now Jojo was lost, lost and close to just falling down if his quaking limbs were anything to go by.

Atreus

“Well that was easy.”

A sagely look was drawn toward Atreus, not angry, but not impressed, “Easy because there are two of us, boy, but don’t let your guard down because you perceive an enemy as ‘easy’.”

Always one to lecture. “Yes sir.”

The cave entrance as coming into sight, stoic father and brash son walking side by side. With electrical arrows at the ready and frosty axe drawn the odd pair walked into daylight, sun illuminating the thick blood staining their skin and wares. Both were ready for any kind of battle ahead, be it fierce or simple.

Well, except for the kind of battle that they stumbled onto.

“Father? What’s wrong with that bird?” Quizzed Atreus, looking up, but Kratos was busy scanning the wooded field

“It hunts for prey boy, pay it no mind.” No beating around the bush.

“But it looks like one of Odin’s crows.”

The barely there expression of strained, chalk temples and widening, heavy set eyes might as well have been a scream.“Shoot it down.”

This rarity was not lost on the boy, heart pounding in response. If his ever-stoic dad was frightened, this was more of a danger than he had anticipated. Wasting no time, Atreus locked on as the bird went for another dive, and let loose a wizzing arrow. It fired true puncturing the breast and punching through to the other side with a resounding crack of the rib cage. The creature never hit its mark, breaking apart in a surprising burst of green flame, but never actually setting anything on fire. The witchcraft of Odin was strange indeed.

The boy couldn’t feel pleasure out of his elegant kill, still too shaken by what he’d seen. Atreus knew better than to ask his father what was wrong, the man would switch on him like a rabid dog driven mad by rabies if any fear was ever acknowledged.

“We go on, boy.”

Kratos took the lead, heading further uphill into the tree trunk horizon, sun spilling over the crest and illuminating some of the lower valley where the boy stood. Atreus made no move to follow. If he was to get answers, it would have to be now whilst his father charged on unaware. Tip toeing over to where the bird would have fallen, eyes trained on his father, the archer found his arrow wedged fast into the soft earth with wandering hands. Turning his gaze for just a moment to inspect his find, there were signs of burns, suggesting that the animal must’ve been made of pure magic; probably a spy of some kind if Odin had anything to do with it, the man was notoriously suspicious and crafty (even all seeing as his mother had mentioned) so would want to know at all times what was going on in midguard. Hold on... pulling the tip of the spear out, a rat skin sat pierced at the end. Weird thing was though, it was clean, even looking tanned on the inside like some kind of weird miniature hooded tunic! This wasn’t an animal the crow had caught and killed, but clearly was worn by the thing that the bird was after on the ground. Wait... Sindri mentioned not killing any rats, but this one was allowed to die and be made into clothes, meaning Freya wasn’t protecting the rats at all. Sindri was lying, he was protecting whoever wore this tunic-

“BOY! COME!”

Oops. He’d zoned out too long.

“Father, I think Sindri was lying!”

Footstep were coming down behind him in a charge. Curiosity wouldn’t let him leave, but flight was making his feet flitter and shake, ready to take off from the raging bull behind him.

“Did I just not tell you to follow?! The dwarf is of no concern-“ Fighting curiosity won over.

“DAD! Just. Look.”

Turning back and presenting the tunic to the man who’d finally reached him, the golden hue burned brightly with hatful embers down at the find. Just as quickly the gaze focused back on the child. He neither cared nor understood.

“It’s a tunic, made from the skin of a rat. Sindri said the rats here were under the protection of Freya, but if that were true, this one wouldn’t be dead and Odin’s ravens wouldn’t dare go after it. Sindri’s hiding something.”

[write-like-you-mean-it]

A Hunter’s Prey: Loss and Text Messages

It's been about five days since I’ve met the troupe. The more that I’ve been here, the stronger my relationship was to the rest of the team. Slowly, I was realizing why Machi kept this side to her while also staying so close to them. From what I’d gather, Feitan and Phinks were friends even if they wouldn’t admit it. Shizuku, Kortopi, and Bonolenvo hung out together in a pack. They were quieter but self assured. Shalnark was the extrovert of the group and would travel between the smaller groups. Franklin was a silent giant who seemed more attached to Chrollo and Fetian than anyone else. Lastly, Machi and Nobunaga always seemed to be attached at the hip to each other. Which was quite interesting because for as long as I knew my friend, she had never been interested in any guy that was interested in her. 

Daybreak was the alarm for the team. If you didn’t wake up to the sun, you’d quickly be awoken to the sound of shouting from across the room. Usually it was Phinks who was particularly grumpy in the morning. This particular morning, I realized that it was time to ask Chrollo about Illumi joining the team. 

Weirdly enough, most of my dreams were consumed with thoughts of him. Each day, I found myself looking over the same conversations over text. There wasn’t much material but it was something. Every day, I would send a small message in the hopes that he’d return one. None ever came. 

Instead, Chrollo had taken the place of Illumi. Every night, we’d have a conversation on the balcony. They were always different. One night was Chrollo explaining the constellations of the stars. The next night, he asked me about my job and childhood. Whenever I’d ask him about his past, he’d divert the conversation to anything else. 

Tonight was going to be the night. I’d ask him about the team and tell him about Illumi. I had to. Things were getting desperately serious. Machi was even discussing letting me stay. My mind told me to take the offer. It was the best thing for me; however, something was forcing me to go back. 

We’d been up awhile at this point. A contest to see who could lift the most weight compared to their body size was happening. Machi and I refused to participate. Instead, we sat in the corner to talk. 

“I wish you’d told me about your job earlier. This was a blast,” I said while we watched Kortopi trying to pick up a second box. 

“Was?” she questioned while reclining back. She’d placed some pillows as comfort to make a nice chair. “You’ve decided to actually leave to go back to that monster.”

I was taken aback by her words. “Monster? Illumi isn’t a monster. He’s just a little broken.” 

Machi sighed. “I’ve never seen you defend a guy so adamantly. Everytime you talk about him, it’s always positive. You never talk about the fact he kidnapped you, took you as a slave, forced you into a relationship, never talks to you, makes you go on missions, makes you learn Nen… Shall I continue?”

“I get your point,” I said. “It’s just different. There’s something there. I-I know there’s good within him. “

“You’re going to try to fix him. That’s what happened with your last boyfriend. Instead of letting go, you tried to fix him. Y/N you need to let Illumi go. Even if you wanted to fix him, there’s too much to unpack. Years and years of living with his family.” She looked for a second in both directions. She was keeping a watchful eye out for Kalluto. “He’s only been here for a bit and I can already feel like he needs to prove something.”

“-I know,” I interrupt. “I-I just need to work this out for myself.” Shouting was heard from across the room. Phinks had stacked up ten heavy boxes while Franklin was trying to add more. Shalnark was coxing them on. I shook my head and turned back to Machi. “I promise. If I get hurt, I’ll come back here. As long as they’ll let me.”

Machi smiled and said “If they know what’s good for them.”

Again, the shouting caught both of our attention. Phinks was trying to show off for the rest of the group. It was pretty entertaining. All the members were. “So, you and Nobunaga?” I ask mainly due to wanting the conversation to change. 

“What about him and I?”

“Even if you didn’t want to tell me about your job, you should have told me about your crushes.”

“I don’t have a crush on him,” she defended while finally sitting up. I rolled my eyes. 

“Oh no you don’t. Sure,” I said while holding my hands up. “You could fool me. Even though I’m here, you’ve not left his side.”

“He lost someone close to him. I’m trying to make sure that he’s okay.” She paused for a moment as her eyes turned towards the rest of the team. “We all have. Last September was rough for us.”

I could feel the pain in her voice. I remember last September, Machi going off the deep end for a bit. We rarely talked but I thought it was due to being busy at work. That was the excuse she gave me. While I know she really was busy with this work, there was something else wrong. She would call me crying without much comprehension of words. I sat and listened for hours while she talked until early morning. It wasn’t until the night of the party that she was finally acting like herself. That's why I went. That’s how my drink was spiked and how I ended up here. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said while putting a hand on her shoulder. “I must’ve worried you when I disappeared.”

“Yes you did,” she said while wiping a single stray tear from her eye. “I can’t lose more of them. The people are more like family than anyone else. There was so much I wanted to tell you but couldn’t.”

“At least I know now.” I tried to smile as if to help her. “I’ve met all these people and you can call me whenever to talk.”

She nods her head. I guess a few members had noticed our conversation. Nobonaga called out to Machi; “Hey, come show us up.” Machi patted my head but went to follow. The best part of meeting the troupe was finally being able to see my best friend happy once again. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

I waited to go out to the landing until I was sure every single person was asleep. This time, I took a blanket as I knew it was going to be a long talk, and I wanted to be prepared. Time passed until Chrollo finally found me. He’d snuck out with Feitan earlier to go run some errands. He arrived back at the bunker as the competition was ending. 

“You seem to like the stars,” said Chrollo. I heard the clanking of metal as he climbed the rickety stairs. 

“I could say the same for you,” I said while feeling my heart quicken. It only happened when Chrollo was talking with me. I wish I could make it stop. 

“They are beautiful. Plus, they’re always better with good company.” 

“Do you like flirting with your subordinate’s friends?” I chuckled while turning my attention to him. 

Chrollo’s eyes flickered while a slight smirk lay on his lips. Instead of standing far away from me. He decided to stand close enough that our shoulders almost touched. “Do you like flirting with your friend’s boss?”

I could feel heat rising in my cheeks. “I-I’m not flirting with you,” I stutter. “I’m just talking. We’re having a conversation. That’s all this is.”

“You wouldn’t keep coming up to this fire escape in the hopes that I would talk to you if you truly just wanted conversation.”

I had to turn away as every inch of my face felt hot. I bit my lip to try and silence any thought that would come to my head. ‘I’m doing this for Illumi,’ my brain repeated. It became a mantra because I had to say it so much. “I come up here to see the stars. I haven’t been able to see them in so long.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been a little bit busy.” I wanted to say that ‘d been chained and couldn’t leave, but that was too much for him to handle. “Machi told me you lost a member. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Chrollo leaned more onto the post. “We lost two. One was my own fault.”

“That can’t be true,” I said while turning to him. 

“It was. I was a little tied up. She chose to save me over her own life.” Chrollo turned to look at the stars. “I tried to make this group to continue even if I was gone. I was not the head but another leg. Everyone was needed to function; however, I must’ve not presented that well enough. A life for a life.”

“I see,” I said. We fell into the same silence as I did regularly with Illumi. I felt so comfortable that it made my heart ache. My thoughts ran wild with the possibilities of how Illumi could be doing. “How did Kalluto join?” I realized my mistake as I was not to make it known that I knew the Zoldycks. “He said that he joined recently.”

“I’m not sure,” Chrollo said. “He’s been here for a short while. I was gone when he joined. In fact, he replaced Hisoka. Machi told me that you two had met before.”

“That’s what she meant when she said he was a work friend. You trusted him here? To be a part of the troupe?”

Chrollo sighed. “He defeated the past member. He had a right to join the group. He was also a lapse in judgment. Which is why our battle will be coming up soon.”

“You’re going to fight Hisoka?” I ask, a little surprised. “Why?”

“We have a lot of unfinished business to attend to. I only have a few more steps then I feel prepared. Unless you have an exceptional Nen ability.”

I shook my head. “I just know it from books. I rarely have had a chance to train. I won’t be good in a fight.”

“I bet you’d be wonderful,” said Chrollo. I could feel the heat rising once again. I wished that Illumi would say this to me. I’d be so much easier to push through the harsh workout regiment if he could give some love or say a compliment. 

“I can promise that I am not. Thank you though.”

“Machi told me that you had a question for me. I think you’ve spent enough time with us to understand the dynamic of our team.”

“What hasn’t Machi told you?” I question. I was becoming concerned that she would’ve mentioned Illumi. 

“That was all she said.” Good. 

“It has to do with joining. Do you have slots open?”

“If you’re wanting to join, you might need to fight one of the members-”

“-No” I interrupt. “I love it here but I’m better as a guest. I’d rather come and go when I please. You can think of me as a contractor. I was actually inquiring about someone else.”

“Ah,” said Chrollo. “I should have known. A girl as beautiful as you would be taken.”

“Y-you know?” I ask. 

“I could see it in your eyes when you talked about the someone else. It’s almost the same glimmer you get when I compliment you. Interesting that you haven’t mentioned him before in all our night talks.”

“He-I- Our relationship is complicated,” I mumble. Complicated seemed like a lie. Our relationship wasn’t complicated. It was straightforward and messy. It was a push and pull. It was the quiet silence before a hurricane. It was complicated. 

“I see.” He runs his hand through the messy hair. “If you want to uncomplicate yourself, I will still be here. Metaphorically speaking that is. We do move around from mission to mission. You can always talk to Machi or you can have my number directly.” Chrollo pulls out my phone from his pocket. 

“Where’d you get that?” I ask while feeling around to see if it truly was mine. 

“Feitan is a good pickpocket,” he said while tossing me my phone. He rambled off a few numbers that I guessed were his phone number. I put in his number and he checked to make sure. “Call if needed.”

With that cue, he started to walk down the stairs. “W-wait,” I shout. “I didn’t get to ask you how to join.”

“Illumi will need to ask him himself,” Chrollo said while continuing to go down the stairs. “He can send you as a reference after he asks. I don’t like others doing his bidding. Plus, I’d be nice to see you again.” As he got to the final step, Chrollo turned to look at me. “I would check your messages. It seems that he doesn’t enjoy our nightly meetings.” A smirk formed on his face as he disappeared into the darkness of the room. 

I quickly look through my phone. There were only 3 simple messages from Illumi. 

Have you completed the mission?

Why are you disappearing with Chrollo at night?

I am coming to get you.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Full Masterlist

[clxvdd]

Panic Room (INCOMPLETE)

Summary: Pro Hero Glitch has been hit with an unknown quirk which makes her worst nightmares become a reality.

Characters/Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki (Ground Zero) x Reader, Izuku Midoriya (Deku), Kirishima Eijirou (Red Riot)

Warnings: language, mental illness, some violence, adult situations

Word Count: 2.3k

fem!Reader

this is an INCOMPLETE DRAFT!! i’ve had this sitting in my drafts for a long time and i just wanted to post it for people to see. it might be updated further in the future but this is intended to be ONE PART.

Quirk: the reader, Pro Hero Glitch, has a quirk dubbed “static” which allows her to project images of herself or other objects into an area, as well as “glitch” (similar to teleportation between small distances), and distort the look of objects or persons to others.

Stark white walls and lights turned a dingy yellow. Flickering chaotically, with no real rhyme or purpose. A single exit– a tall door off to one side of the room with only a thin slit for exchange. There was no furniture, no evidence that someone had existed here except for the faded bloody scratches on the walls. She sat, unmoving, an emotionless expression on her features that were once full of life. Criss-cross applesauce with her arms locked behind her back. Such an innocent and joyful position, but practiced nonetheless. This was how authorities had forced her to sit in her early years, and now, in a sick twist of fate, it is how she will spend the rest. Silent. Unwavering. Stuck inside her own body. Only one thought has run through her head during her entire stay.

“How did this happen?”

The task at hand should’ve been simple. Two villains, busying themselves with an unoriginal crime, were meant to be taken in. Of course, stealing in any form is considered a punishable offense, but in no way did she think it was a scary or tough mission to be assigned to. In fact, most villains who were caught stealing came from harsh backgrounds and rarely hurt anyone. They just wanted the money. They were desperate.

(Y/N) was never one to judge. Hell, even her own life could kick her ass sometimes, so she would understand someone getting desperate enough if they had it in them.

But something about this particular case was off.

Often she could feel the desperation, the insecurity, the shame, in the air as thick as molasses. She could go into a mission and be able to relate to her enemy. Often her enemies were spiritually closer to her than even her own friends. After all, this line of work taught her that the line between heroism and villainism is a lot thinner and more transparent than people would think.

Yes, often she could be empathetic with her opposition.

Though, as she stepped into the enclosed, heavily guarded, extremely exclusive holding area of millions of currency, she felt nothing but malice. It was cold, yet searing, and it made her heart ache with an emotion that closest resembled fear.

Alongside her, the top two heroes fed into the front of the building. There was no other outside entrances or exits, aside from the minimalistic, blackened windows around the sides of the room. Three large metal doors awaited them with a suspenseful glint. They would need to split up.

Ground Zero took the initiative first, seemingly oblivious to the murderous intent in the air, and rushed towards the middle door with a raised fist. The pin on his wrist was pulled and a loud explosion sounded without a hesitation. When the smoke cleared there was sizeable hole in the door and the pro hero was no longer visible.

“Everything alright in there, Ground Zero?” Was sounded through the speaker in her ear, following the voice directly beside her. (Y/N) and her peer recieved only a grunt in response, and decided to follow in his wake.

Pro Hero Deku starts to the door closest to him to work it open, (Y/N) falling into motion not long after, using her quirk to project herself through the barrier. It was relatively dark and dreary, although there was a faint, pale blue lightsource a good distance from her. This room’s appearance was quite jarring to the extravagant exterior of the bank.

Something was wrong.

The walls were cracked the further she trudged. The darkness was consuming. The hallway was getting thinner. No matter how far she walked, the light at the end of the tunnel seemed unreachable, like she was going nowhere. Unmoving.

Panicking, (Y/N) puts a finger to her ear in an effort to contact her friends. But instead of the metal earpiece that she had buried in her ear minutes prior, her finger met with her damp cartilage. Was she sweating? She could’ve sworn she had it still in her ear.

With her focus directed towards her now missing earpiece, she hadn’t realized that there was a presence at the end of the hallway until it was far too late. Her feet stumbled over another pair as she crashed into a cold, hard blockage. Quickly shoving herself away, she gazed up at her target.

Her heart dropped to her toes. Eyes wide and breathing ragged, (Y/N) felt her legs give way, her knees coming in contact with the cracked and crumbling ground beneath her.

Pro hero Ground Zero stood before her.

No. Not Ground Zero. This was definitely not Bakugou. He was off. Upset. He had a steady stream of tears escaping his eyes and large rings around them, almost as if he hadn’t slept in days. He looked like he hadn’t eaten any time recently, either, with the sillhouette of his ribs showing through his shirtless figure and dull, sunken in cheeks.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. No, not by a long shot.

“Glitch! Is everything alright?!” She heard a staticky voice through the reciever in her ear. And suddenly she could breathe again. The atmosphere was lighter, the hallway had expanded, and that nagging blue light at the end of it was nowhere to be seen. It was almost as if she had dreamed the whole thing up. But she knew it was real, she felt it herself.

She didn’t give Deku a response, instead opting to turn back down the hallway and meet him as he ran towards her, Ground Zero in tow. Bakugou would never admit it, but in truth, he had been just as worried for his fellow hero as that idiot Deku. Seeing her uninjured finally returned some peace to his heart.

Faking a smile, Glitch raised her heavy head and laughed halfheartedly, “There was, uh, no one there..”

“Don’t you know how to fucking answer a simple question, dumbass?”

“Oh please, like you ever answer anything we ask you,” she jested. He would never say it but (Y/N) knew that was his weird and unconventional way to show his concern.

“Tch,”

“I need a long bath when I get home,” the girl sighed and mumbled under her breath. It was supposed to come off as an innocent internal monologue being voiced aloud for only herself, but as Ground Zero nodded in agreement from the opposite side of Deku, she knew he understood it was meant for him as well.

After the two top heroes handed over their captured villains and discussed with proper authorites (and some cameramen) the three of them set off to their respective residencies. They parted ways and that was the last they had spoken to each other that night. Another successful mission.

Except when (Y/N) had arrived home to the bath already filled, bubbles and all, it would not be the last time she would speak with another hero that night. A tense body was submerged in the tub before her, a groan escaping it’s lips as it scrubbed itself.

“Hurry up and get in.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,”

She was already stripping as she strutted towards the tub, sinking herself in after she removed the last article of clothing. The heat of the water and the man surrounding her was exactly what she needed after the night she had. And despite his hard-headed nature, Bakugou could be considerate as well. She silently thanked him with a gentle massage of her fingers through his hair and over his scalp– his favorite gesture of appreciation to recieve.

(Y/N) hadn’t meant to overstep. She just wanted simple glass of water from the refrigerator in her kitchen downstairs. For some reason, the night wasn’t treating her as well as usual and she found herself tossing and turning, before giving up on sleep entirely. If she wasn’t going to sleep then she might as well try to wake herself up a bit to do something productive. That was the plan anyway– just a simple glass of water.

What she hadn’t planned was finding herself in Kirishima’s kitchen, grasping a burning hot mug of what she thought was floor cleaner (the sanitary, lemony smell gave her a pretty good clue), listening to an earful from the man himself.

She blinked harshly, hissing and dropping the mug when the pain finally reached the nerves in her hand. It clattered to the ground, shattering on impact, and spanning the distance between the two heroes.

“What exactly is going on– why are you in my kitchen?”

(Y/N) couldn’t even respond, for even if she did know the answer, she was too shaken up to acknowledge it. She knew neither how she got here or why she did what she did, but it scared her, far worse than any fight she had ever thrown herself into.

“C-can you call Bakugou for me,” the girl whispered in a small voice, following gently with “please?”

In the next few weeks, the girl, and her friends, had chalked the incident up to sleep deprivation and stress from her overworking herself. In truth, it wasn’t that far off from what had actually happened, but it was still enough to put her out of commission for some time. There were enough heroes in the city to hold it down without her, especially in the condition she was in. Though, the downside of this was that her overall ratings as a pro hero would drop dramatically and other heroes would capitalize on the opportunity.

But as more time went on, the more that night seemed just like a small fluke in the grand scheme of things. She felt fine, and there hadn’t been anything else notable enough to fret over. They were worried about nothing.

Glitch had taken to sparring twice a week with Ground Zero, in place of her usual week of patrol, to blow off some steam. She figured that to get her out of her rut, she needed to prove herself purposeful and busy herself with something productive that she also enjoyed. And what better for that than sparring with her secret lover?

Bakugou saw how well she was performing in their sparring sessions. He saw how well she had refined her quirk and how much she improved. Hell, she even learned a few new aspects of her quirk that she had never even revealed to herself before.

She was thriving.

So he decided that it was time for her to get back to work.

(Y/N) was excited about going back to work, although just as weary. After all, she had decided to become a pro hero to help people, and to do that she had to make sure she was able to help herself first. But apparently excitement wasn’t enough to get back into the swing of things.

It felt like she was a newbie again. There were amazing pros everywhere, and villains to match. There were so many people constantly taking up their roles effortlessly, and she felt as if she didn’t really fit in anywhere. She would be sent on a mission, only to find most of it be done by another. She did her best to rescue hostages or recover missing items, or even scout for information, but somehow someone was always one step ahead.

Was being a hero always this frantic?

It was getting to her immensely. Even with her improved quirk control and physical strength, she couldn’t keep up. It was all too much.

And she started to resent those who stole her job out from under her. Her rankings were dropping and her visibility was plummeting. She went from being the number three hero to somewhere far in the double digits, and the gap was only widening.

Katsuki would tell her “it’s okay,” and “you have to work yourself back up to it,” but after some time, things were only getting worse.

Maybe she shouldn’t have taken time off. Maybe what happened to her was a fluke. Maybe if she wasn’t so weak, she wouldn’t have been spooked so easily. Maybe her life wouldn’t be spiraling out of control if she had just let it go.

And with her thoughts consuming her she found herself sprawled across the concrete floor of the warehouse building, struggling to regulate her breathing. Her heart felt heavy and the ache in her lungs was too strong to ignore. Tears fell in streams down her face to her chin, where they plummeted to the ground.

She panicked. She tried to scream, but nothing would come out, and her blurry gaze flitted around to orient herself. To focus on anything that could help her. But all she could see was darkness.

A hand rested itself on her shoulder as she flinched. They spoke a few words, ones that she couldn’t bring herself to comprehend, and another hand came under her knees to drag her up and into their embrace.

She almost thought it was her boyfriend. After all, he was the only one she allowed to hold her like this, but the chest she had been pressed into was bare and jagged. For a moment, it hadn’t registered in her mind exactly who this was, but that moment was enough for her to explode into another fit of panic.

She threw herself down and swiped a leg under the perpetrator, knocking him down onto his back before getting a solid glimpse at who she was actually fighting. Her boyfriend’s best friend stared her with wide eyes as she froze, breathing heavily.

“Kiri?” she paused and immediately jumped away from him, “I’m so sorry! I thought you were someone else!”

And as much as he reassured her and he promised it would be a secret he kept for as long as he was capable, she knew that she was in too deep. He didn’t trust her like he used to. She knew that.

And so he ended up telling Bakugou anyway.

[rocket-remmy]

And You Fall||Solo

CONTENT WARNINGS: Violence, gore, death, non-con (forced fighting), torture, depression, starvation

---

Remmy’s lost days.

The first night, Remmy hadn’t moved at all. Starved and aching, they laid sprawled on the ground staring up at the ceiling, too tired to even cry. The person in the cage next to them had said something at one point, but Remmy didn’t hear, their ears ringing. Head spinning. The rattling of chains drowning out any other noise.

The first day had somehow been worse.

Every little noise jostling their insides, metal rattling around inside a glass jar. Nails down a chalkboard, grating against their bones. Teeth mashing together, grinding inside their head. Remmy’s entire body stayed tense and clenched. Starving, their body consuming every ounce of energy to fight off the wounds the collar gave them every time they moved their head. It was their punishment, they understood that. For ever trying to get out of this, for ever trying to leave. The button constantly pressed, the electricity constantly flowing into them. Sometimes Jax would stay and watch, other times it was just them, alone. The man in the cage next to them would whisper quietly to them in between bursts, telling them tales of the outside world. Of beach vacations and morning hikes and laying in the grass.

The second day, they found out his name was Ben. They were taking people somewhere, and Nell was trying to plan something. There was a nymph in the cell next to her and they all made promises-- to her and each other-- that would keep them safe. That they would get out here.

It was on the third day that their cage door was finally opened. No food was offered. Remmy was hoisted up and dragged out by the back of their shirt. “Time to fight,” said the vampire dragging her. He was large and bulky and had strange looking eyes. His name tag said ‘Danny’.

Remmy collapsed into a heap as Danny tossed them into the ring. The door swung shut and locked and there was Jax, looking on. He held up a container. “Put on a good show,” he said, rattling it. Remmy could smell the contents, even though it was sealed. Brain. Their mouth salivated as they looked at him. “And it’s all yours.”

Remmy turned. The crowd was still trickling in which meant they had a few moments of reprieve before whatever beast they’d picked out tonight came charging in. It was strange, being on this side of it. The waiting side. No walk up to the entrance, no cheering as they approached-- just silence and anxiety, thrumming through their head. Anticipation building as they watched the other side of the arena, waiting, wondering, what was going to step out. Finally, the crowd was jeering. Did they know? Did they understand that Remmy had no say in this, that Remmy wanted no part in this? Did they care?

They pushed themself up using the wall and the crowd’s cheering got louder. The announcer called their name as if it still meant something, as if they still had a choice. As if they still got to raise their hand in victory and go home after everything was over.

And from the other side of the arena slunk out a monster that looked far too human for a moment. She had long, black hair, tangled over her face in a mess of knots and blood. Pale skin, stretching oddly in places, smoothing over her bones as if there was nothing between them. When she turned to look at Remmy, sharp red eyes glowered from beneath the curtain of black and arms extended into leathery wings, a shriek sounding from her mouth. Remmy clasped their hands over their ears, feeling it rattle their very insides. Her heavy body collided with Remmy’s as they stumbled, distracted. They rolled with the creature for several feet, claws swiping, fists flying.

Finally, Remmy landed on top, one hand pressed to the creature’s chest, pinning her hard to the ground. The other rose, fist clenched, ready to strike-- but they froze. Human eyes staring up at them, as if begging them to see past the monster outside.

Their moment of hesitation rewarded them only with a swift kick to the gut. Soaring through the air, tumbling down hard, the wall of the arena the thing to finally stop their momentum. A dent left behind when they finally moved. Remmy leapt, caught the creature mid-air. More rolling, more kicking. Fists in faces, claws swiping across a cheek.

By the time it was over, Remmy was covered in blood.

The buzzer sounded and the crowd went wild. Remmy’s eyes met Jax’s through the grated fence and someone stepped back in, yanking them away. Danny again. Remmy’s head lolled forward, limp and apathetic as they were dragged back to their cage. Thrown in and left to lay, bloodied and starving, on the hard floor. When jax stepped up, holding the container of brains, he had simply opened the lid, watched Remmy’s eyes go black, and dumped them on the ground just outside their reach. Face slammed against the bars, hands clawing to try and reach it. But they just couldn’t. It was just a little too far away. They slumped back and crumpled onto the ground, clutching their stomach. Wishing the hunger would just consume them already, so they wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

Remmy lost track of time at that point.

Eventually, a voice came back into their head.

“Hey,” came the whispered hush, “hey, here.” Remmy blinked and the world blurred in a different way. They turned their head sideways to look. Ben was extending his arm through the bars and holding something out to them. They could smell it-- it was the brains. “C’mon, get up.” He shook it. “You need to eat.”

Slowly-- each grain of Remmy’s body fighting against the motion-- Remmy sat up. They reached out and took the offering. It was a simple action, but even in this state, Remmy could feel the weight it truly held.

However he’d gotten them, they didn’t care. They were just hungry. So hungry.

And it wasn’t enough to stave off the pain, of course it wasn’t-- but it was enough to quell the hunger for now, and to keep their skin from feeling like paint and their limbs like lead.

“Feeling better?” Ben said quietly. There was a guard stationed at the end of the hallway, Remmy acutely remembered passing by him when they were being brought back.

They looked over at Ben. He looked just as ragged and worn as them. They nodded.

“Good, I’m glad. We all need to keep our energy up in here,” he said, sighing and leaning his back against the bars that their two cells shared. Remmy scooted themself over to lean back in the same spot on their side. They couldn’t feel him really, but the small action of being physically close to someone gave Remmy a small sense of relief. They missed being close to people. They missed Moose’s soft fur. They missed snuggling on a couch with Morgan. They even missed lying in bed with Luce. They missed a lot of things. Things they were now realizing they may never get to have again.

Remmy sniffled.

“Yeah,” Ben sighed, “I used to cry a lot, too.”

Remmy felt him shift, but didn’t move.

“It’s unfair, that we’re in here. I know. But...I choose to believe we’ll make it through.” His voice still sounded soft. How long had he been in here, anyway? “At first I thought I was in here as some sort of divine punishment. For...the way I was before I changed. But now I know it’s just...cruel people using their power over others. But--” he shifted again and this time Remmy looked over their shoulder. “All things are temporary,” he offered a sweet smile. “Even us.”

Remmy looked back down at their feet.

All things were temporary.

They slid to the ground and closed their eyes.

-----

The next few days were the same routine.

Fighting, food, floor.

But each night, Ben talked to them. Sometimes he even sang. He told them stories about his life and where he’d come from, and why he was in White Crest. Apparently he’d been turned a while ago during an accident, and, like Remmy, had had very little idea about the supernatural world. He’d learned, after a while, about all the monsters out there. But he’d also learned about all the good he could do. With his strength and his abilities, he wanted to help people.

He’d had a family, too, apparently. They thought he was dead, though, which wasn’t entirely wrong. He wanted a good life for them, though, so he’d stayed away. They didn’t need a dead man in their life.

And he was patient with their silence. They hadn’t spoken a word since getting here, except to Nell about and the nymph for their promises. But they couldn’t find their voice for anything else. They had no words left to say-- Jax had taken them. He had taken everything from them.

Except for this.

These were the moments Remmy pushed through the fights for. For being back in their cage, curled up, listening to Ben. Listening to Nell. Existing in a way that didn’t hurt or harm. Small and unobtrusive.

It was on the sixth night that things changed. They’d come for Ben earlier and Remmy had watched them with narrow eyes. Ben always managed to come back from his fights as well, but that didn’t quell their worry. But he did always come back before they came for Remmy, and this time, when they came, Ben still wasn’t back.

“W-wait,” they croaked as Danny once again dragged them down the hallway, “Wh-where’s Ben?” voice raw and unused. Danny did not stop, did not answer. “I-is he-- he d-didn’t--” but no more words came. He had died, hadn’t he? And Remmy was about to see his blood smeared across the floor.

Only, no-- it was so much worse.

The door opened and light flooded into the dark, damp hallway. Remmy’s lifted a hand to shield their eye, blinking into it. Across the arena, a bloodied figure came into focus.

It was Ben.

The door slammed shut behind them. Remmy whirled, pounding on the door. No, this wasn’t happening. No, this couldn’t be happening. The announcer shouted Remmy’s name and the crowd cheered loudly. And when he said Ben’s name, Remmy’s chest went cold.

No, they couldn’t do this.

“I-- I won’t!” they shouted, turning to Jax. Ben was walking towards them. Would he really hurt them? He was limping already, blood on his shirt. Blood on his face. “I w-won’t d-do it!” Jax, behind the fence, safe and settled and smug, didn’t hesitate. He pushed the button and horrified realization set into Remmy a split second before the shock did.

Their scream pierced the arena.

This time, the pain only lasted a moment.

“Fight,” Jax said through the grit in his mouth. “Or die.”

Knees scraping against the ground, palms flat on the cement, Remmy looked up at him. “N-no,” they pleaded, shaking their head. Ben was almost to them, now, clutching his side. He didn’t look angry, he didn’t look scared-- he just looked sad. “Please, no. Please. J-Jax, please.” Tears coming from them like a storm, swirling in their chest, bursting out their eyes. “Please! Jax, please!”

He lifted his hand again, ready to push the button. Remmy braced for the shock, but instead felt a hand yanking them up.

It was Ben.

“Fight me,” he whispered to them, “just do it.”

Remmy shook their head, tears spilling off their cheeks.

“You have to,” he said, and a soft, gentle smile broke through the caked, dry blood. “You have to make it through this.” They continued to shake their head, but Ben was just as persistent. A hand tightened on their chest and they cried out. He knew they were starving again. Black eating away at their eyes. “I’ll be okay,” he whispered as he let them go, “I’ve lived a good life, fought the good fight.” He stepped back. “It’s your turn now.”

Remmy’s hands began shaking. They could feel the hunger taking over. Watched as Ben stuck a finger into his wound and tore it across, reopening it. Remmy cried out, the smell so overwhelming. They needed it, they wanted it-- food.

They pounced. Roaring and angry and starving. Not themself. Black, veiny eyes. Pale face. They punched. And punched. And punched.

And they saw Darius, crying over their body.

And they saw Andrews, bloody and battered.

They saw Johnson, blown to pieces.

They saw Lancer, hunched over and torn up.

They saw their bodies in a pile, they saw their insides spread across the ground. They saw their heads, torn open, and they saw their own hands, covered in blood. Smashing their bodies. Fingers curling into their skin. Tearing away parts of them.

And Remmy screamed.

And they cried. And their wail filled the stadium, all the pain and woe and sorrow they felt ripping through their body, their soul. Echoing around them and bouncing back to their ears.

And Ben lay dead beneath their fingers, blood mixing with dirt and tears.

And they didn’t get time to apologize to him, before a hand was pulling them up and away. And dragging them back down to the tunnels, and down to their cage. And this time when they landed face first on the floor, Ben was not there to greet them with soft words and kind eyes.

And Remmy pushed themself up off the floor, arms shaking, body tense. They turned to look out the door of their cage, over to Nell, her eyes filled with concern.

And they took in a breath, teeth bared, hands clenched, and said for the first time in days, “We’re getting out of here,” as they spat blood from their mouth, “and I’m going to kill Jax for what he did.”

[alison-anonymous]

flawsome bandits pt. 18 ♡ sonic

Flawsome Sleep Kicker 

Part 18! I hope you all are doing well, my darlings! I would love to hear some feedback from you all on how you think the story is progressing! Don’t you worry, this story is not done yet, but we are getting close to the beginning of the end ;)

Warnings - fluff! 

♡♡♡

“Ow…” 

Y/n inhaled sharply as Sonic kicked her once again in the shin, igniting even more pain throughout her already sore legs. 

“OW! Shit…” She breathed, pulling her legs up to her chest. She sighed. Of course, Sonic would never intentionally hurt her. He was fast asleep, she could tell by the snoring adorable sleep-mumbling. She could only hope he was kicking Robotnik’s ass in his dream. Unfortunately for her, thanks to his increased stress levels, the main thing he was kicking right now was her legs. And it wasn’t just those gentle, teasing kicks, oh no. These were the kind that he used when he got very determined to win during Wachowski soccer tournaments. It hurt like hell, she wasn’t going to lie. And she was beginning to develop some nasty bruises from the trauma too. But every time she tried a different sleeping position, his feet somehow found a way to kick them. She had tried multiple times to wake him up, but he was such a heavy sleeper that he could have slept through a hurricane and not even stirred. 

Guess living with a stable roof over his head had made him let down his guard a little bit. 

She loved Sonic with all her heart, but it was very well known that if there was one thing he was good at, it was fighting. And his kicks were no exception. Sighing, she turned onto her back and glanced over at her boyfriend as he slept. He looked so peaceful. The kicks had stopped now, thank goodness. Raising one of her arms, she gently stroked his jawline and smiled softly to herself. All of the years that they had spent together, he was her one constant. The one being that she would protect with her life. If it came down to it that they couldn’t handle the fight between Robotnik and them, she would do anything to stop him from hurting Sonic. Even if it meant-

“OW! Sonic!” She hissed, trying her best to bite back tears as his foot collided with her shin once again.

♡♡♡

The next morning, Y/n wasn’t in her best mood. Getting kicked in the shin all throughout the night will do that to you. But after she forced a couple cups of coffee down her throat, she was at least sociable and not entirely conflicted. Knuckles had been the one to recommend that they move their camp site since it was already known to Shadow and Robotnik and they were getting closer to becoming ready for battle by the day. Because of his warning, they all decided that it would be best to move a couple of miles east just in case. 

While Spirit, Tails, and Knuckles drove ahead in the truck, Y/n and Sonic stretched their abilities. It had been a little while since they had practiced using their powers besides the spontaneous callings when Robotnik or Shadow or even Knuckles had shown up out of the blue for a little practice-sparring. Though Y/n hated to admit it, she was beginning to wonder if her abilities were growing a bit too far out of her control. Maybe some practice would be good for her; help her regain a bit of a grip on reality. She hadn’t heard the singing ever since they left for this trip, so that had to be at least a decent sign that things were going okay with her. Sonic, on the other hand, couldn’t have been better. He adored the idea of getting to spend some quality time with his lady by doing the one thing that they loved most: racing.

“I’ll give you three seconds for a head start,” Sonic offered as he stretched his quads, sending Y/n a wink. “Only for you, sweetheart!”

His offer warmed her heart as she felt her powers itching to get in some practice. She pulled one of her arms across her chest and hummed gently, staring towards the truck as Tails, Spirit, and Knuckles drove to their new spot. “Don’t you dare go easy on me, cutie,” She teased. “Or I’ll leave you in my dust.”

“You’re on!” Sonic’s emerald eyes turned blue with electric excitement of the chase, and in less than two seconds later, they were off, racing and flying through the grass. It didn’t take them long to pass by the truck, and they made sure to do plenty of loop-arounds so as to not lose their friends. The adrenaline pumped through their veins in sync, allowing them to let their energies mingle while they stretched their limbs. But while they zipped and zigzagged through the forest, Y/n’s emotions began to change. 

The faster she went, the more she thought about the vision she had. The quicker her heartbeat, the more she began to fear going up against Robotnik and Shadow. The more rapidly she breathed, the more she began to feel like crying. Smoke clouded her lungs until she couldn’t breathe, Robotnik’s crazy laughter filled her ears, and Shadow’s claws sank into her shoulder blades as she held the poison in her hands. 

No. 

No, no, no, no, no! 

In her fit of unravelling, Y/n didn’t notice the tree coming closer to her until she had rammed into it, causing her to fall backwards onto the ground with a plop. Her forehead throbbed as she panted, her eyes wide and heart racing. But nothing seemed real to her right now. She was too… scared. Why did she have to see that? Why did she have to listen to the voice every time it was called to her? Why? Sonic had been having such a fun time racing that he didn’t notice Y/n lying on the ground right away. But in that moment, her mind was swirling so fast that she couldn’t seem to drag herself back into the waking world. The universe of hypotheticals had consumed her whole as she felt the dampness of the dirt beneath her nuzzle against her fur, trying to pull her into its depths.

Could they really do it?

What made them think that they could? Facing Robotnik alone had been a hard enough challenge, regardless of how much boasting they liked to do. Even though Sonic didn’t like to think about it, they had almost died. Y/n had watched him die in her arms before she healed him with her powers. Then he finished the job with his emotion-fuel. But the thing about their abilities was that they didn’t last forever. When Sonic and Y/n had been ring-jumping in an attempt to get away from the crazy doctor, Y/n had already begun to grow tired when they were in the desert. Their powers couldn’t keep them going forever. That was the downside. 

They were powerful, but on a time crunch.

Robotnik was powerful, too, and the worst part? Machines don’t have time limits. Robotnik could keep going for as long as he wanted too, and if Sonic or Y/n so much as took a break, it would push them back in their progress. Sure, now they had Spirit, Tails, and even Knuckles on their side. But they didn’t seem like they had been through many battles. Spirit was good with baseball bats, Tails was good at tech, and Knuckles was good with his fists, but against Shadow? A hedgehog that had every ability that Sonic did, but better? They didn’t stand a chance, did they? And if what Knuckles said was true and that they had been working on a Metal Sonic primed to take them out, then they were as good as dead.

What made them think they could do this?

What? Tears threatened to spill down Y/n’s cheeks as she bit down hard on her lip. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to fix this. A way to prevent the fight that would eventually happen from breaking out. A way to stop Robotnik from hurting her friends and even her family. A way to make sure that no one died and nothing was wrecked. She would have to be very careful about it though, there was no way that Sonic would go along with it if he found out. But she was willing to do anything to protect him, right? 

Even… Even if it meant… 

No. She wasn’t going to think too much about it now. Because if she thought about it too

much, then she might convince herself against it. It was indeed one of the craziest ideas she had ever come up with, but it was one that might just be crazy enough for Robotnik to accept. She’d have to try, and be very sneaky about it. Perhaps after they had all fallen asleep for the night. An immediate damper was placed upon her heart, but Y/n knew that if she were going to fix things then this was one of the only ways to make sure that no one got hurt.

Would he accept her proposal? I guess she’d have to find out herself.

♡♡♡

Later that night, Y/n had decided that she was going to try and sleep in the bed of the truck rather than next to Sonic. It wasn’t that she wanted to sleep away from him, as they had both become very used to sleeping next to each other, and he was a big source of comfort for her, but the kicking was something she needed a break from. Plus, if she was going to put her plan into action, it might help if she put some distance between her and him… 

No matter how much it killed her…

She had to do this. For him. Because she loved Sonic with all her heart.

“N/n?” Sonic’s voice broke her out of her train of thought. She froze, her pillow clutched tightly to her chest. The look of confusion on his face broke her heart. “What are you doing?”

“Um, I…” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Come on, Y/n, you can do this… “I’m going to sleep in the truck bed tonight… if that’s okay with you?”

Sonic’s eyes slowly began to lose their light, his ears drooping. Y/n squirmed, having to physically bite her tongue in order to prevent herself from taking it all back. 

“Y-Yeah, of course that’s fine, but, umm, why?” He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, but the look of absolute heartbreak was prominent. He reminded Y/n of a scolded puppy and it made her want to smack herself for doing this to him. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” She blurted before she could stop herself, her e/c eyes widening. Y/n took a couple steps towards him, her need to comfort him stronger than she thought. “Of course you didn’t do anything wrong! It’s just… you’re a sleep-kicker. Or, at least, now you are. And I tend to be your punching bag, haha…” She tried to laugh to lighten the mood, but it came out more downhearted than anything. Sonic’s expression continued to drop, but there was a small flicker of relief that crossed over his face at her explanation.

“Oh? That’s all? I mean, I’m so sorry! I swear, I don’t mean to-”

“I know you don’t,” Y/n quickly interrupted. “I know, I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings…” It was the truth, and nothing but it. She felt disgusted with herself for not telling him about it sooner, but when Sonic gently wrapped his arm around her waist and smiled down warmly at her, she knew that she had nothing to be worried about.

“You know you can talk to me about anything!” It was a statement, not a question. “Come on, I promise that I won’t kick you tonight. We could try a different sleeping position?” 

Even though the part of her brain that knew she was going to do something crazy was begging her to say no and to sleep in the bed, her overwhelming love for the electric blue hedgehog won by a landslide. Besides, even if she did try to sleep in the bed, she probably wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Sonic’s body warmth and heartbeat had played a big part in lulling her into the dream realm, and ever since they had started sharing a “bed”, she had slept better than she ever had before. Even her old bed at home couldn’t compare to the feeling of sleeping next to someone who loves you as much as you love them. 

Y/n gently nodded her head, and he led her back over to their makeshift mattress that they had been sleeping on. It was the one closest to the fire since Sonic got cold during the night, and Spirit and Knuckles had already retired for the night while Tails took first watch. As Y/n snuggled under the blankets, she felt Sonic’s arms wrap around her waist. Surprised, she glanced back over her shoulder only to be greeted with a pair of beautiful emerald orbs. 

“Is this okay with you?” He asked softly. She nodded her head slowly, already feeling the butterflies begin to panic within her stomach. 

He wants to cuddle! They screamed. I repeat! He wants to cuddle! Like an adorable little married couple! 

Y/n couldn’t help but grin at her foolishness and turned around in his arms so she was facing him. Shifting until she found a comfortable spot, she rested her head on his chest, much like the way they had been the night they slept out on the couch together. It seemed to be the position that they both found the most comfortable, and before she knew it, she was drifting off to sleep. 

♡♡♡

“We don’t have any alcohol?” Shadow whined, watching with tear-puffy eyes as Robotnik worked on his project. “Are you surreee?”

“Yes, Shadow,” Robotnik snarled, his grip on the wrench in his hand tightening significantly. “Why the hell do you even need alcohol anyway?”

“Because,” Shadow hiccuped like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Y/n doesn’t love me and I can’t kill her boyfriend no matter how hard I try.”

Robotnik froze, and slowly began to turn around to stare at his last minion. Of course he had known about this before, it was impossible for him to not have caught on with all of the whining and obsessions that Shadow had been demonstrating about the icy hedgehog. He had seen it as an incentive, motivation for Shadow to take out the hedgehogs. Robotnik knew full well that there was no way it would ever work out, but it’s not like he actually cared. That’s why he let Knuckles leave without so much as a fight; the echidna was an idiot anyway. 

But this whole yandere thing had been getting quite… pathetic.

“THIS is what you need alcohol for? Not as a celebratory measure for when we finally take out those putrid beings and their little friends?” Robotnik put down the wrench after tightening some bolts and took out his paintbrush. Shadow pouted, his eyes filling with tears as he twirled his pistol around in his hand.

“I tried SO HARD, Boss! I tried to poison him, I tried to kidnap her, and I used every pick up line I can think of and nothing worked! What am I doing wrong? Should I be more forceful? I should probably be more forceful. Maybe next time I see her, I’ll seduce her with some lingerie and a flamethrower…” After that, Robotnik tuned him out in order to continue his work. He didn’t need to worry about Shadow’s love problems, he had other things to worry about.

Like the robot that he had finally just finished.

He carefully set down the paintbrush, hope beginning to fill his brain, and turned the switch on. Instantly, the robot began to let out a low humming noise before it finally began to wake up. He stepped back slightly, watching in awe as his creation began to awaken from the dead of spare parts.

“It’s alive!” Robotnik cackled maniacally as it sputtered, whirred, and careened. The red lights that made up its eyes slowly buzzed to life, and an evil smirk slowly made its way onto Robotnik’s lips. “I’m coming for you, hedgehogs.”

“...Do you think Y/n will love me more if I kill her boyfriend with a shotgun or a katana?”

♡ a.a.

[retrocelly]

Crash (Brock Boeser)

Requested: yep!

Warning: a car crash, some minor injuries, and a severe lack of knowledge about medical stuff

It took 45 minutes for Brock to get home after you saw the photos. Well, after your friend texted you “look at Brock’s most recent tagged pic. I can cut his balls off if you want.” You tapped quickly over to his Instagram, swiping to his tagged and clicking on the newest one. It was a picture of him with a fan - which shouldn’t have raised any red flags. But then you noticed his hand latched around her waist, his fingers against her bare midriff and your cheeks grew hot. Calm down, you told yourself, it’s just a photo with a fan; Brock probably didn’t even realize. Then you swiped. You swiped and saw a much more candid picture: your boyfriend’s arm still around the girl’s waist, but he was leaned back a bit more and they were looking at each other - laughing. The photo closely resembled the one you had as your phone background and now your heart was beating out of your chest. The caption read “got to meet my favorite player today. thanks for being such a gentleman ;) good luck tonight” And that was all it took for your understanding to boil over.

Taking a photo or two with a fan wasn’t what you cared about. In fact, you’d always encouraged Brock to pose for more pictures. You drew the line at him standing too closely, his arm too comfortable around another woman’s waist, her caption too reminiscent of an inside joke that you weren’t in on. It didn’t help that the girl was gorgeous; with perfectly done beachy-curls in her hair and a button-nose that looked like it was sculpted by Bella Hadid’s surgeon. You even found yourself feeling jealous of the ab definition that was noticeable when the girl laughed.

You stared at the photos for 45 minutes. Read all of the comments from the girl’s friends about how gorgeous she looked and even one about how she and Brock would make a cute couple. For 45 minutes, you felt sick to your stomach as you let your anger stew. For 45 minutes, you tried to justify each aspect of the photos only to grow more confused by them. For 45 minutes, you debated calling Brock and asking about them. But you didn’t. And after 45 minutes of sitting alone in your own frustration, you had lost all of your patience.

He’d walked into the condo in with a smile on his face, presumably from a good lunch out with Bo, but your jealousy was trying to convince you that it was because of his new friend. Brock’s face fell when he noticed your posture: arms crossed and lips pursed, glaring in his direction. He’d given you a nod, the kind that meant “tell me what I did wrong.” You didn’t need to speak - simply handing over your phone and allowing him to see the post. Brock let out a light scoff with a shake of his head as he slid your phone onto the coffee table.

“That’s what you’re upset about?” He asked, kneeling down so you were eye-level.

When you didn’t respond, Brock had his answer. He told you that the photos didn’t mean anything - that he couldn’t even remember the girl’s name. He assured you that he hadn’t intended for them to appear so intimate and that if he’d realized how couple-y they would turn out, he would’ve never even taken the pictures in the first place. But that made you even more mad, and so now you were in a screaming match with your boyfriend about why he decided to put his arm around her waist and whether or not he found her attractive.

The anger had brought out your insecurities and, although you were ashamed of it, you couldn’t help the nagging sensation that he did look good with the girl - that they did look like a couple.

It was 15 minutes later when Brock stormed out - muttering about how he needed to get to the rink for the game. You could tell that he was upset by your implication. Brock was, above anything else, a loyal friend and partner. He would never consider cheating on you - not even when he was piss-drunk. You knew that he was hurt by what you’d said, but it was the weaker part of yourself that fueled the argument in the first place. The insecure, paranoid part of yourself that knew Brock deserved better. The part of yourself that worried he would find better and that when he did, you’d be nothing but a memory to him.

Immediately after he’d left, your anger dissipated and regret set in. You had overreacted to say the least, fueled by your own mind and it’s tendency to speculate. Not even an hour later, your phone buzzed from the coffee table. You picked it up, tears immediately filling your eyes at the notification. Brock had texted you, in typical Brock fashion, “I hope you know I’d never do anything to hurt you. I’m sorry. I hope I’ll see you at the game tonight, love you.”

Your heart broke at the message, the feeling of regret multiplying ten times over and settling in the pit of your stomach. You knew that you had to apologize to your boyfriend, and you had to do it as soon as possible. You figured if you left now, you’d be able to make it to the arena in enough time to talk to Brock before the second period started. So, you quickly ran to your room, throwing on your lucky Boeser jersey (a green one - with his old team name and the number 16 on it) and headed out the door.

As you got into your car, you were buzzing. You could hear your heartbeat loudly in your ears and your hands were shaking slightly. Your driving had never been perfect, but it was even worse now. You consistently sped down the familiar route to the arena, even running a stop sign in your haste. You were nearing your destination, your foot easing off of the gas as your breathing settled slightly. But then, just as you were pulling through the final intersection, you heard the screeching of rubber against road, and then the scraping and crashing of metal. You could feel your car slam sideways, and then onto its side as the large truck collided with you.

•••

Brock came off the ice from his first shift of the second, getting ready to settle on the bench when his coach called him over. He knew that he’d been playing poorly, with his mind still on you and the fight you’d had, but he didn’t think that it was bad enough to warrant a mid-game lecture.

His coach leaned into him, a sorrowful look on his face, and he told Brock that that you’d been in a car crash; that your car had flipped and you were in the hospital. They’d called a car for Brock and it was waiting just outside.

Brock’s blood ran cold. He stood frozen for a moment, trying to decide if this was some cruel joke. But the looks on the faces of the men around him were enough to tell him otherwise. Without another thought, he ran down the tunnel, dropping his stick and gloves carelessly on the floor. He moved as quickly as his legs would take him to the car outside, his mind racing with worst-case possibilities.

As he sat in the back seat of the Uber, or Lyft, or whatever it was, Brock thought he might just pass out. He noticed the driver had to take a detour - he tried not to look down the road, but Brock could see the lights from the police cars and he almost had to tell the driver to pull over so he could throw up.

The only thing that was bringing Brock comfort was the fact that your were in the hospital. You were alive and being cared for by professionals. But just because you weren’t dead didn’t mean you were okay. Brock worried that you would be in a coma, that you may be alive but that he would never see you open your eyes or hear your voice again. That the last you had seen him was when he was leaving you in anger. He worried that maybe you’d be paralyzed or have a severe head injury. All he could do was pray that you’d be okay.

Brock couldn’t think straight on the ride to the hospital. All he could think about was how dearly he loved you and how much he needed you. Even when you were laying right next to him, he would feel physically ill with how much he missed you - with how much you meant to him. He didn’t know if he could live without you. Just as Brock felt himself start to hyperventilate, the driver pulled up to the hospital.

Brock jumped out of the car, running inside and asking the receptionist for your name. He ignored the odd look she gave him - remembering that he was in full game-day gear. Once he knew where you were, he didn’t hear anything else the woman had to say (although he thinks that part of it might have been a warning that only family is allowed to visit at these hours - but Brock didn’t care, he was your family).

When he walked into your room, Brock’s breath was knocked out of him. You were laying in the bed, curled onto your side, asleep. Brock could see the few cuts that littered your face and arms, and his heart clenched at the sight of a large bruise forming along your temple. He took note of the various needles in your arms and the sound of the monitors you were hooked up to. As he stood frozen in the doorway, he could feel someone walk up to him. Brock turned to see a short woman in a white coat.

“Are you family?” The woman asked, “these visiting hours are reserved for close family only.”

Brock nodded dumbly, speaking through a dry mouth and heavy tongue that he was your boyfriend.

The woman gave him a sympathetic smile as she introduced herself as the doctor that’d been tending to you. She then explained your condition to him. You had a mild concussion, which was a miracle, and a couple of bruised ribs. You had fallen asleep due to the morphine and anti-nausea medication that you’d been given. She advised that Brock let you sleep, but that he was allowed to sit with you while you slept. The doctor also told him that they would finalize your discharge paperwork once you were awake and another check-up could be completed.

Brock couldn’t believe how lucky you’d been and as he walked over to you, all of his emotions bubbled over and he started to cry. He sat in the chair next to your bed, running a hand gently over your hair as he fought off full sobs. He’d been so consumed with his own thoughts that Brock didn’t realize his presence had woken you up.

You looked up at him, his eyes clenched shut as he brought his free hand up to wipe his tears. Slowly, you moved a hand up to grab his wrist, ignoring the slight ache in your abdomen from the movement. Brock’s eyes shot open at the feeing, his gaze immediately meeting yours.

He moved quickly then, his hands moving to either side of your face, his thumbs swiping soothingly along your cheeks.

“Oh god, you’re okay. Thank god you’re okay.”

You wrapped your arms around him, and he easily lifted you so that he could reciprocate. Brock needed to have his arms around you in that moment - to really be sure that you were there with him.

“I’m so sorry-” you’d started, but Brock cut you off with a soft “shh” as he buried his head into your shoulder.

He held you for as long as you would let him, until your ribs started to hurt and he gently lowered you back against the pillows beneath you. Brock then laid a kiss to your forehead before leaning back into his chair.

“When they told me what happened I was so worried I’d lost you. I almost collapsed right then and there.”

Brock let out a slight chuckle as he spoke through his tears and you reached out to hold his hand.

“Well, I’m still here, B. It’s gonna take a lot more than a big truck to kill me.”

Brock got serious, then, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared down at you.

“I could kill him, y’know - that guy that hit you. I don’t think I’ve ever hated someone so much before.”

“It’s okay, Brock, accidents happen. Besides, I was trying to drive to the arena so fast that I almost caused a couple myself.”

Your boyfriend didn’t seem to appreciate your attempt at lightening the mood, and you could feel that same lump in your throat that you’d had before you got in your car in the first place.

“I was trying to get to you to apologize in person,” you muttered, looking down to where your hand was linked with his. “I never should’ve gone off on you about that stupid picture. It wasn’t a big deal, but I was just so jealous and I couldn’t help it.”

Brock squeezed your hand, causing you to look up at him.

“I already forgave you, y/n. I can see how those pictures looked and I understand why you were upset, but you have nothing to be jealous about. You’re the woman that I want to spend the rest of my life with - I could never even think of being with someone else. I’ll try to be more careful when I take pictures and stuff. I’m sorry, baby, I love you so much.”

Your heart swelled as you looked at the man above you. The sincerity in his blue eyes was enough to make you fall in love all over again.

“I love you so much, too, Brock.”

He leaned down, giving you a chaste kiss. As he pulled away, he planted another peck to your cheek, then to your other one, and then all over your face until you were a giggling mess. When he finally sat back up, his tears had all dried and a smile now crossed his features.

“Now we just need to get you back home so I can take care of you, and we’ll all be okay again.”

A/N: I’m not totally in love with this one, but you guys deserve some actual writing from me. hope you liked it!

[slasherscream]

What about You can taste what your soulmate eats AU with Jennifer check with a fem!reader? I love your blog btw! X

[ soulmate prompts. ] oh this would be a bad time-

You lived much of your life peacefully and without withstanding or battling obvious signs of your soulmate and their tastes and cravings. 

Whoever they were they had unobtrusive tastes. You’d heard and even witnessed a few horror stories yourself. Soulmates where one is a vegan and the other isn’t. Someone likes spicy food and the other can’t handle black pepper          you were glad all your shared experiences thus far had been mild. 

Just little moments scattered throughout your day and your life that reminded you that somewhere out in the world you had a soulmate. Someone meant for you. 

So at times when you’d be sitting alone and then taste a salad and then thirty minutes after that taste some fries and a cherry coke (like they were trying to be good and then gave up very quickly); or it being late at night and then tasting well-buttered popcorn; or the sweet taste of different flavored lollipops throughout the day? You loved those little moments. 

This all changed one day all too suddenly. One night minding your own business and the next? Violently throwing up. 

That taste       the phantom taste and texture in your mouth was horrible. So repulsive you threw up continually the entire time your soulmate consumed it with gusto because it just didn’t stop coming. By the end of the ordeal you were whining and gasping pitifully. 

You’ve had busted lips before you know what blood tasted like but this was horrible. Blood and ….and meat like you’d never tasted it before but completely raw. After brushing your teeth aggressively about a hundred times you went to bed that night miserable. The taste didn’t falter for an instant until your soulmate apparently brushed their own teeth for bed late into the night. The taste of mint sat heavy on your tongue after the metallic bite of blood. 

You got out of bed the next morning wary. Your soulmate had a cup of orange juice but nothing else. You nervously tried to enjoy some eggs and bacon but found yourself not in the mood for meat at the moment, even well cooked. 

For a few weeks everything was fine although you noticed a distinct lack of taste and sensation being broadcasted from your soulmate since that…incident. 

On one hand you were profoundly relived and on the other you were incredibly worried. The only thing reassuring you that they were still alive was the occasional flicker of sweetness from the lollipops they apparently still enjoyed while they gave up on food totally. You were worried to say the least.

Half tempted to eat more just to remind them ‘hey! you need food, asshole! and also i care about you even though i’ve never met you’ but you resisted the urge and went about your normal way.

They’d had moments before where they wouldn’t eat much and then they’d suddenly go back to their regular habits. You assumed this was one of those times. One day you would like to express all the concern they’d made you feel during those times to their face and also give them a hug after you were done chewing them out.

You regretted all the worry you felt when you’re at school and suddenly you taste it again. You throw up in the middle of class. You get to go home early but it’s not that great of a consolation prize. 

This happens quite a few more times and it effectively makes you lose your appetite. Days without them eating anything substantial and then….. then blood and raw meat and-

And you’re starting to feel weird. Weird about the whole damn thing. What are they eating? What’s changed about them? You just know instinctively that something has gone totally and horribly wrong. 

It’s not a close friend or family member that notices there’s something wrong with you. It’s actually just a girl you eat lunch with every day, Needy Lesnicki. A vague friendly face you wave to in a crowd but have never met with outside of school even though you’ve always liked her and she’s always liked you        that’s highschool for you. 

“Are you okay?” she asks putting a hand over yours as you stare down at your lunch but don’t move to eat it. You’re tearing up before you know what’s going on and quicker than that you’re crying into her shoulder and jabbering on about the unsettling change of palate your soulmate is putting you both through. 

At some point in the conversation she goes tense where she was holding you so gently and comfortingly. She doesn’t move until she’s properly soothed you but when you do finally pull away from one another she’s looking unusually pale. She rushes off with some vague excuse and you assume you freaked her out. 

The next day your skin feels like it’s on fire. You’re feeling watched…hunted, even.

Needy runs up to you with ginger candies explaining they’re good for queasiness even though she looks fidgety the whole time she offers them. You’re grateful for any bit of relief though- constantly trying to chase away phantom taste and knowing that if your soulmate is consistent you have another bit of suffering coming your way any day now. 

You pop a few candies into your mouth at once, the strong taste a minute relief from your unpleasant and all too recent memories. You hear a gasp from behind you and see Needy staring over your shoulder.

Behind you is the queen of the school and Needy’s best friend, Jennifer Check, and she looks like she’s seen a ghost. A second later she shoulder checks you and snatches up a protesting Needy, dragging her down the hall and away from you.

So that was weird. 

Weirder? A week comes and goes and the rancid taste of blood hasn’t come yet. No tastes at all, actually. Which is great! Except now you’re super worried again and rush to Needy’s house in a panic late at night because she’s the only one you’ve told about the whole situation.

When you get there her Mom let’s you upstairs and you find Needy on her bed petting the hair of a Jennifer that looks even more miserable than you feel. You don’t know her like you know Needy but you sit right beside Needy on the bed and temporarily forget how worried you are about your soulmate, replaced with worry for the queen bee of the school.

When you ask what’s wrong you get a biting reply of “must be my period” which is directly at odds with how she reaches for your hand gently (yet impatiently) and places it on her exposed midriff. Her skin feels clammy and cold. You mimic Needy and rub her in soothing circles like she so obviously (and strangely) wants you to.

You forgot what you came to tell Needy or what you were so worried about. 

You remember when you wake up the next morning squished against Jennifer on Needy’s full size bed. You register this and then register Needy and Jennifer having an argument like you’ve never seen before.

“She’s miserable, Jen!” and “Oh she’s miserable? Bite me, Lesnicki. I’m fucking miserable. Fucking starving to death just because they’ve got a light stomach.” followed by Needy full on screaming. 

It’s at this point you interrupt by sitting up. Jennifer’s arms fall from around you like she hadn’t wanted to get caught holding you in the first place. Needy standing in front of her bed, puffed up with anger like you couldn’t imagine she was capable of but also looking sorry they woke you with their little…..spat. 

“Sleeping beauty has finally awoken.” Jennifer gets up from the bed, shoving past Needy and throwing you one glance over the shoulder you can’t pick apart before she slams the bedroom door on her way out. She leaves silence in her wake. She looked even worse than she did last night. 

“Are you guys okay?” is what you want to ask before Needy interrupts you, “I have to tell you something that’s super shitty since it seems Jennifer won’t.”

So she tells you.

And if you thought you were horrified at just the taste of what your soulmate has been eating you’re fucking shell shocked by the knowledge of what it’s actually been all along. Ignorance is bliss. You’ve been hoping they were on some weird diet kick. Not demonic, man eating succubus shit. 

Jennifer falls off the face of the earth and not even Needy can find her for close to three days. Knowing what she is you can’t be too worried about her…she’s the most dangerous thing lurking around the streets..and yet you are worried about her. Demon or not she’s still your soulmate.

It’s not a relief when she gives into her instinct and kills again but knowing she’s okay- knowing she has to do this to survive?- it makes the blood less bitter. 

She appears outside you bedroom window an hour after the taste has faded. She’s covered from head to toe in gore and looks… absolutely beautiful. Breathtaking and predatory as she knocks on the window with such a confidence you have to laugh. 

You are understandably hesitant to open the window to the girl covered in blood who you know is capable of killing you very violently. She pulls back her hand and you jump from your bed because you realize she fully intends to break the window if you don’t just let her in the easy way. 

“Hey there soulmate. Got a toothbrush I can borrow?” She smirks, teeth sparkling white beneath all the blood and looking deceptively human. 

She uses your bathroom and doesn’t come out until she’s completely clean while also complaining about the scented soaps that you had available for her use. You’re going to have to acknowledge every elephant in the room. 

“You weren’t always like this."

"Yeah no shit.” Jennifer collapses onto your bed, eyes closed, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world but she’s acutely aware of you, whether you know that or not. 

“What happened?" 

"Does it matter? I am what I am.” She says it like it’s a challenge. Like she wants something from you but hell if you know what. “You gonna stand all the way over there all night? I’m not leaving so you might as well get comfortable." 

You take the hint and come to sit beside her on the bed. You want to touch her again but you’re pretty sure the other night was a fluke of how bad she was feeling. This time she seems to be radiating heat like a small camp fire. You wonder how it would feel to hold her at night when it’s cold outside. Who needs a romantic fireplace when she’s probably got the fires of hell burning inside her or something. You groan and collapse right next to her.

"I’m sorry.” She says after a long time. Then the room drifts back into silence. She knows you heard her and even if you didn’t she’s not one to apologize at all - let alone twice. 

“For what?” You ask even though you’re pretty sure you already know why.

“For …. I’m sorry you get the shittiest part of this deal.”

“Soulmate deal or demon deal?" 

"I tried to …. not eat. But it was literally like starving myself to death. Figured an alive soulmate is worth more than a dead one.” She says the last part quietly as if she’s trying to convince herself the statement is true. You always knew that objectively Jennifer was a person despite being popular and pretty and perfect. All human beings have insecurities and every other normal thing that makes people, people. It’s another thing to see her insecure. Or as close to it as she’ll let herself get.

Boldly you reach across the space and take her hand, “An alive soulmate is worth more than a dead one. I wouldn’t want you to starve for me        even though this is seriously fucked." 

"Good. I wasn’t planning on trying again.” She turns on her side so she’s facing you and you mimic her instantaneously, without a second thought. You’re still holding hands. Despite her harsh words her eyes are soft and tell a different story.

“We’ll figure something out.” Now you sound like the one trying to convince yourself.

A pause and then you’re flipped onto your back, Jennifer hovering over you, still damp hair tickling across your collarbone as she leans in close, “Yeah. We will.” and then her lips are on yours in the most heart-stopping kiss you’ve ever had. It’s also distracting. 

You don’t notice the sharp drag of her nails against your back in the middle of it. The cuts heal almost instantly. She smiles into the kiss and tells herself things will be better this way.

[kreactionsentertainment]

Exo Reaction ~ You Saving Them Pt. 2

Admin Eva: As stated in Part 1, I do not take credit for writing this reaction. A very good friend of mine helped me in a huge way by writing this reaction. I also want to state that this blog does NOT own any of the gifs used unless stated otherwise. Once again this reaction does have a part for Jongdae, however as stated before this is the last romantically inclined reaction that will be on this blog. I will still write sibling requests or just general exo requests, but none will have Jongdae and a romantic interest. Thank you so much for your patience and understanding~! 

Jongdae

Jongdae was intensely focusing on his battle with Chanyeol, if anyone was winning, it was him and not that stupid flamehead. He charged up several lightning bolts and threw them at Chanyeol like spears while he tried dodging all the fireballs being thrown his way. The two hit each other and caused a big explosion, throwing both men miles apart. You sensed something was wrong and immediately went to Jongdae's location. When you saw him, he was lying motionless on the ground, bleeding profusely from what looked like deep cuts and ash? Being a healer, you focused all your energy on sealing up his wounds and helping his body repair itself. You sat back and looked at Jongdae disappointedly after you finished healing him. 

“I know your awake Jongdae.” The said man opened one eye to glance at you before closing it straight away, hoping you didn’t catch that. “You know, I keep telling you that it's not smart to battle Chanyeol when you and him have destructive powers. Now I’m going to have to report to Suho and ah ah don’t say anything, you brought this upon yourself Kim Jongdae.” Despite his whining, he knew what he did was dangerous… he just didn’t want to have to listen to both you and Suho lecturing him at the same time, but for sure he was dragging Chanyeol with him whether he got caught or not.

Chanyeol

As the lightning spears barely scraped by Chanyeol, he added more heat to his flames, causing the fireballs he threw to be a blue color. He wasn’t looking when his flame hit Jongdae’s spear and blew up, sending him into the air along with Jongdae before they both smacked into the ground. Chanyeol called out to you because you would be able to hear his voice no matter how quiet or far away you were. Your body appears as if the wind carried each particle and built you back in front of Chanyeol. You rush down to his body and start inspecting all the burns. With a quick sorry, you pushed your powers into Chanyeol as he bit down on a piece of cloth. 

The winds felt like it was cutting up his body internally, but your powers of wind were fueling his powers of fire, causing his body to regenerate quicker. Like magic, the existing burns from Jongdaes thunder looked like they were being erased in front of your eyes. With one last force, you fell on him and laid there to rest. Chanyeol could hear Jongdae’s girlfriend nagging him about being reckless and here he was just hoping you’d forget this after you wake up so he wouldn’t have to listen to your lecture about “being safe” and “taking precaution”. With a little kiss on the nose, he smiled softly. “Don’t think you're getting away with this, I’m just too tired right now, but you already know Suho’s hearing about this.” And just like that, his smile was gone and he was back to worrying how he’d deal with you and Suho for the nth time.

 Kyungsoo

“Find him! Don’t let him get away!” Kyungsoo had been on the run ever since he stole that guy's wallet, and boy did he regret it. The polished black leather wallet had looked too expensive but expensive was good, expensive meant money and that meant he could eat for the week, a month maybe if he was extremely lucky. Turn out the amount of cash in this wallet would be enough to feed him a whole year, that’s discarding all the cards because a smart person would just suspend it or track him down. Speaking of, he was currently being tracked down right now, but instead of the police sirens, he was hearing gunshots and yelling.

Kyungsoo ran and ran until he couldn’t anymore. He had once prided in his ability to run fast, a thief who couldn't was a dead thief anyways. Today proved him wrong, that the people he outran before were normal people, those who were easy to escape from. Today he was being chased by those who seemed serious in getting this wallet back. He found a hole that looked his size and crawled in. He didn’t expect to see someone already sitting in this small space. The girl in front of him starred unblinkingly as she ate what looked like a small piece of stale bread. “Hi!” You exclaimed at the owlish boy. Kyungsoo backed away in fright only to hit the metal scraps that served as a wall to your home. “Oh.. sorry, umm..” You took in his appearance and grabbed the wallet once you saw it. Opening it up, you saw a familiar face, not that you personally knew the guy, just that he was well known around these streets. “Oh boy! Did you steal this from Mr. Mouse? That's a bad idea you know! He goes bang bang when he’s upset..” Kyungsoo snatched the wallet back from you as he squinted at your speech. “I think that bread you're eating is causing you to go crazy.” He took the piece of bread from you, only to realize it was a dried piece of chicken. He suddenly dropped it out of shock while you scrambled to pick it up again. “That's my dinner! How rude!! No wonder you’ll go bang bang in 13 minutes! 15 if you’re lucky!!”

Kyungsoo was too busy wondering how a piece of chicken could be as dry and crusted like stale bread. He even wondered if it was safe to consume, “wait, 13 minutes? 15? How do you know?” The numbers seemed too accurate unless she was truly crazy... “Mr. Mouse has a clock! 30 minutes or bang! The lizard finishes in 10 minutes but he’s away today. The next fastest is the little deer! He doesn’t like to be called that though~” You giggled at the thought of a mad deer. “And.. the deer finishes in 10 to 15 minutes?…” He wasn’t sure what you meant by Mr. Mouse, the lizard and or the deer, but he assumed they were code names made by your loopy mind. “Bingo!~ Hehe~” You tried taking another bite of the chicken when it was suddenly taken away again. “Hey!!”, “Show me the way out of this city and I’ll buy you better food.”

Kyungsoo soon found out that you were incredibly smart, just that your mind stored information in a very simple way. After he safely got away, he offered you to come with him with the promise of better food and living conditions. You guys would still be on the streets sometimes but it was never as bad as that metal shelter, especially now that you had someone to keep you company, one that didn’t think you were completely insane.

Zitao

Gunshots were being heard throughout the building and Tao didn’t know where to go. He just kept running until you pulled his arm and dragged him in the opposite direction. “Are you crazy? The exits this way!” You whispered as loudly as you could afford to. Working in a bank was definitely boring for you, but that didn’t mean you wanted robbers coming into ‘spice’ up your day. You guess this guy was new as he didn’t have the exit routes memorized yet nor did he seem to understand that you don’t run towards the sound of gunshots. Opening the exit doors to the stairs, you warned him to follow you as quickly and quietly as he could. For some reason, Tao managed to stay pretty quiet, with the occasional scream, but he remembered right after and covered his own mouth to prevent the robbers from finding them.

After what felt like too long, both of you got out and together you ran to the nearest cafe before calling the cops to let them know the updated situation. “Th-thanks” You had forgotten about the guy for a brief moment but waved that it was no big deal. He hadn’t gotten you more in danger and it just seemed right, rather than letting him run around the building like a headless chicken. “Let me buy you a coffee!” Tao quickly went to the counter and order two things he felt would taste good. He tried to calm his racing heart down but he wasn’t sure if it was due to the adrenaline or if it was because of you. That day on, Tao would always stick close to you when he can and you soon found out this guy had a lot of fears. But it was cute, that and afterwards he always bought you something to eat or drink when he got scared.. and when he simply wanted to.

Jongin

You jumped into the ocean after waiting what felt like forever for Jongin to pop up. You guys had gone cliff diving with friends and while you all had done it numerous times, you felt uneasy when Jongin wasn’t surfacing. The others assured you, he was probably just playing a joke, but you thought differently. Jongin wouldn’t scare you like this, this was too long to be a simple joke, so here you were swimming in the warm ocean trying to find your boyfriend. You rose multiple times to take a deep breath before swimming down again. Your friends saw how panicked you looked and jumped down to help you search for Jongin too.

He had jumped down into the warm water and man did it feel great. His friends had already known he would pull a prank at one point. So when he entered the water for the fifth time that hour, he held his breath for as long as he could. A few minutes passed by and he was starting to feel uncomfortable. As he tried to swim back up, he realized his foot was caught in some plastic netting and other plants that floated in the ocean. Jongin did his best to unraveled the webbing around his foot but he was starting to desperately need air. His body started to panic and he wasn’t thinking straight anymore.

You had finally found him and called your friends to come help. Everyone took a deep breath and swam down to where Jongin was. You carefully cut away the plastic and saw that it was stuck to heavy rocks, no wonder he wasn’t able to getaway. Once Jongin was free, the guys swam back up as you and the girls followed along, making sure there was nothing to get caught on around them. Back on land, you immediately performed CPR and prayed that Jongin was okay. A few seconds later he was bending over to cough up the water in his lungs. His chest and sinus stung like crazy as he was gasping for the much need air. Jongin pulled you into a tight hug once he felt a little better. He told you how thankful he was over and over, promising to never pull a prank like that again.

Sehun

Sehun had his breath knocked out of him as you tackled him to the ground. “Idiot!” You yelled at him as bullets continued to fire his way. He hadn’t realized he was getting shot at, as he was too focused on watching your back. The two of you had been partnered up together on a few missions years ago. Soon after, you both started to go on every single assignment with each other. Little did you know, Sehun had been requesting to work with you, and you did the same for him. How embarrassing it was when your boss yelled out “Finally!!” at a work party. Only then did you guys find out how silly your actions seemed when it would’ve been easier to say it face to face.

Sehun focused his attention on you to find any scratches and luckily there weren’t any. He kissed you deeply, too caught in the moment of feeling how grateful he was that you were okay. You immediately pushed him down in panic, what was he thinking? You both were in an active shooting zone and here he was kissing you? He let out a soft groan as his back hit the concrete floor, maybe he should show you how much he appreciates you once you both were safe at home.

He gave you another peck on the forehead and told you to be safe before he headed off in a new direction. Although he was always extremely grateful to have someone like you watching his back, he needed to remember that they still had a dangerous job to do. Often times you would save his life and he would save yours. Despite that, there was never a moment that either of you took it for granted, as your life was too precious to him and you cherished him.

[haledamage]

Ves (and Jorgan If you are so inclined) and K

K. On the edge of consciousness.

(I happen to be just finishing Act 2, and Jorgan got injured assaulting the Gauntlet, so this is excellent timing :) Set after Act 2 and before Act 3 of the trooper story, vague spoilers for that whole situation)

under the cut because it got really long.

Three days. 

Jorgan had been unconscious for three days, and Vesiya was running out of excuses to be in the medbay. 

The first day, when he'd been on the brink, when Elara had been tiptoeing around the implication that he might not survive, it was easy to find ways to stay close and keep busy. Elara needed a second pair of hands, and Ves was by far the most qualified pair of hands available. The sharp scent of kolto lingered on her clothes and hair, mixing with the acrid smoke and coppery-sweet smell of blood that already clung to her, but she didn't care. As long as Jorgan was okay, nothing else mattered.

She really needed him to be okay.

The second day, Jorgan mostly spent in a kolto tank on Coruscant. The worst of it was over and he was stable, so it was just a matter of speeding up the healing process to get him back on his feet sooner. The medical droids didn’t take ‘I’m his CO’ or ‘I’m his friend’ as reasons to let her stay, so she begrudgingly allowed herself to be escorted out of the medcenter and returned to her ship.

With Jorgan out of the woods, Ves finally let her own wounds be tended to. They were serious but not life-threatening, jagged lacerations across her back from an explosion that she didn’t quite escape. Her armor absorbed most of it, and she thought she’d managed to avoid any actual shrapnel embedded in her skin; she thought wrong.

Elara tutted at her about taking better care of herself, but she wasn’t really listening. She just stared at the empty gourney next to her and tried to swallow down the heavy knot of worry in her chest.

“Vesiya,” Elara said gently, startling her out of her thoughts, “he’ll be fine.”

“He’d better be.” They both ignored the way her voice broke. “If he’s not, I’ll kill him.”

So she spent the morning in the medbay and the afternoon in meetings and ceremonies, saluting until her arm was about to fall off.  By the time she got back to the ship, Jorgan was back too, unconscious and far too still on one of the beds. Before she could even take a step in that direction, Elara appeared and ordered her to sleep. She had no choice but to comply.

But on day three, there was nothing for Ves to do. They were in between assignments, so she had no work to distract herself with, and there was only so much cleaning and maintenance her armor and cannon needed, even after a mission like the Gauntlet. 

She managed to while away a few hours repairing Jorgan's armor. Seeing up close and personal just how much damage he'd sustainted did nothing for the worry that was consuming her. The armor and Fourex’s quick thinking were probably the only reasons she still had her XO, and by the stars, that realization hit like a punch to the gut.

She triple-checked the repairs once they were complete, making sure they would hold. Just in case.

"Major Hallis," Elara called to her, formal and professional. She even saluted. "Due to our recent missions, we're depleting our supplies at an unprecedented rate, even for us. It isn't critical yet, but since we are here, I thought I would visit requisitions personally to make my request. On your leave, sir.”

“Elara, we've talked about this,” Ves said fondly. “Permission granted, Lieutenant. I trust you.”

“Thank you, sir.” Elara hesitated instead of leaving immediately, waiting until Ves finished putting the armor and weapons she’d been working on back in the armory. “I… was hoping to ask a favor as well.”

“Anything.”

That earned her a brief but genuine smile from her medic. “I need you to stay with Jorgan and keep an eye on him while I'm gone. He should wake up soon, and one of us should be there when he does.” She added, very softly, "You should be there."

Ves felt a surge of affection for Elara and didn’t bother trying to hide it. “I can do that. Thank you.”

Elara just smiled again and left without another word, and Ves headed to the medbay.

Jorgan was exactly where he’d been last time she saw him, stretched out on one of the uncomfortable medical beds. He was still out cold, but he’s restless, tossing and turning in a way that had her worried he might reopen one of his wounds.

The medbay was spotless, even by Elara's normal exacting standards. Clearly, Ves was not the only one trying to keep busy.

Not sure what else to do, she grabbed a chair and moved it next to his bed. She just sat there for a long time, hesitant to do more than just watch him, but after he shifted violently again in his sleep, nearly throwing himself from the bed entirely, she gave in and carefully took his hand.

He calmed a little at her touch. She wasn’t sure if it was just the presence of another person or her presence specifically that soothed him; it was safer for her to believe it was the former. “You’re okay, Jorgan. I’ve got you,” she murmured, and he settled a little more at the sound of her voice, breathing slowing as he lapsed back into rest.

Encouraged, Ves just started talking. He probably couldn’t hear her, but it at least made her feel like she was doing something. And if he had a problem with it, well, he’d just have to wake up and tell her himself.

She told him about her part in the Gauntlet mission and about the things that came after, the promotions and medals being thrown at them, the threat from the Moff. She told him about the (mostly minor) injuries the rest of the crew sustained, and about the messages she was already receiving from people who’d heard about what they did, and about the holo her brother sent her. Anything that came to mind, anything to fill the silence.

“You’ve got to get up, Jorgan,” she whispered, when she’d run out of small talk and mission briefings. She leaned her forehead on cold metal edge of the bed, squeezing her eyes shut to hold back the tears that had been lying in wait for days. “I don’t know how to do this without you. I need to have you watching my back. I need… I need you. Wake up. Please wake up.”

Ves had never been a very religious person, but in that moment, when Jorgan groaned and shifted on the bed, his hand tightening on hers, she was willing to believe every story about the Force that the Jedi had ever told her.

She bolted upright and once again had to blink back tears when she saw him staring, bleary but awake, at the cold, sterile room around them. His eyes were distant, like he wasn’t quite seeing anything, and were lit with a feverish brightness. He must be on a hell of a lot of painkillers. The fact that he was awake at all was borderline miraculous, and he was only barely clinging to consciousness.

That didn’t stop him from trying to get out of bed anyway. Ves dove out of her chair as he started to sit up, pushing him back down with a firm hand on his chest. It took more effort than she expected it to. He shouldn’t be this strong when he’d been at death’s door only a few days ago.

“Jorgan,” she said in her most commanding voice when he kept fighting to sit up. When that didn’t work, she said softer, pleading, “Aric.” 

He went still so suddenly she thought for a moment that he’d lost consciousness again, but he was just staring at her. His eyes were still too bright, but some of the focus had returned to them.

“Aric,” she said again. She wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be an anchor for him or for herself, but it didn’t really matter. It felt good to say his name, though also a bit like crossing a line. “It's okay.”

She brought the hand she wasn’t using to hold him down up to his face, sweeping her thumb over his cheek in what she hoped was a comforting motion. He finally calmed, eyes drifting closed. Once again, she thought he’d fallen back asleep, until he spoke.

“Ves.” It was barely more than a breath, but she was so relieved to hear his voice that her knees almost gave out.

“I’m right here.” His eyes opened again, and this time he finally focused on her face, a little groggy but alert. She smiled at him shakily. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His hand settled on hers where it still rested on his chest. “Where are we?”

“Medbay.” Her smile fell away, twisting into a concerned frown. “My XO decided to play the hero and got himself shot up.”

“Did it work?” The tiny but very smug smirk he threw her way said he already knew the answer.

“Yes,” she said begrudgingly. “Complete mission success. But I’m still going to be kriffing furious with you once you’re out of this bed.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, sir.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly like he was bracing himself. “How long?”

“Three days.” No use in sugar-coating it.

“Three…” Jorgan swore colorfully under his breath, his head falling back to the bed with a soft thud.

“It was close. Too close.” There was too much emotion in those two words, but Ves couldn’t take it back. Didn’t want to take it back.

Sleep was clearly pulling at Jorgan, whatever drug cocktail Elara had him on trying to drag him back under, but he fought it. He reached up to her, caressing her cheek in a mirror of how she touched him. “Ves…”

“Shh. It can wait.” She knew what he wanted to say. She had a lot of things she wanted to tell him, too. There was a conversation they needed to have and they were hurtling toward it at light-speed, but this wasn’t the time to have it. Not here in the medbay with him on the edge of unconsciousness. “You need to rest, Aric. We’ll talk later.”

This time, when he closed his eyes, they stayed closed. He was still sleeping when Elara returned.

On the fourth day, Ves had to go back to work. A very early morning holo from General Garza meant that her ship was loaded and in hyperspace before she’d even had breakfast. She got her armor and cannon ready, gave the order to Yuun and Vik to suit up as well, then grabbed three cups of caf - one black, two with sugar and creamer - and took them to the medbay.

“Back again?” Jorgan called with a smirk. He was still in bed, but he was sitting up now, and looking much more aware than he had been the day before. “You don’t have anything better to do than babysit me, Captain?”

“Depends on who you ask.” She sat the black caf in front of Elara, where she sat at the counter with a datapad. Filling out paperwork, most likely. She brought one of the other cups to Jorgan and he took it with a nod of thanks. “And it’s Major now, actually.”

“Are you serious?” He chuckled, but the look on his face was pure pride. “I’m sorry I slept through your promotion. Sir.”

“Slept through yours, too. Congratulations, Captain.” She sat on the edge of his bed. It was the most natural thing in the galaxy to slip her hand into his.

“Thank you.” He stared at their linked hands like they held the secrets of the universe. Ves brushed her thumb across his knuckles. “I don’t know how much longer Dorne’s going to make me stay in bed, but once I’m out… I’ve got something I need to talk to you about.” He glanced over at Elara, as if trying to see how much she was listening in, before bringing his attention back to Ves. He lowered his voice and added, “Somewhere a bit more private than the medbay.”

“I look forward to it.” The ship shuddered as they came out of hyperspace, and Ves reluctantly pulled herself away from Jorgan. “That’s my cue. We’re being sent to rescue some high profile hostages,” she said before he could ask, “and since you are still stuck in bed and Elara needs to stay here with you, I am bringing Vik. Tanno Vik, on a rescue mission.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, an amused and smug smile on his face. “Is this your way of trying to make me feel guilty for saving your life, sir?”

“Is it working?”

“Not yet.” His humor fell away, and the look he gave her was serious and intense and worried. “Good luck, Hallis.”

She put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze before she moved to the door. “Get better quick, Jorgan. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”