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airi-p4 · 3 years

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Love in the sky

I wrote this for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers LBSC Sprint challenge - Meet cute week event and, once again, I got carried away and broke all the rules. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Prompt: Sitting next to each other on the plane.

Summary: Marinette is going to NY on an international flight for the first time. What she doesn’t know is that the one seated next to her is the popular new band Kitty Section’s guitarist: Luka Couffaine.

Thank you @livrever for checking it for me 💙

AO3

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Marinette rushed through the aisle of the plane. She couldn’t believe she almost missed it! her first international trip to the US! Stupid alarm! Of course she was tired. She was so nervous she couldn’t sleep all night… until 5AM… and the plane departed at 10AM… and obviously she had to oversleep. *sigh*

Running, tripping and spinning on her feet, she finally searched for her seat. 38B - aisle seat. Her pink polka dotted suitcase was heavy, but thanks to the cabin attendant she could finally put it inside the overhead bin, while her backpack rested under the seat in front of her. All set, she let her weight fall on the seat at last and let out a deep breath as she fastened her seatbelt.

The doors of the plane closed, and the PA message started: Welcome on board… Security instructions… Marinette wasn’t listening. Her legs were uncontrollably shaking, and her fingers were fidgeting with the laces of her hoodie.

Those nerves and stress couldn’t be healthy.

She examined her surroundings, and, next to her, someone was sleeping. Someone, who appeared to be a young man, with a sleeping eye mask and a face mask on, messy blue hair showing under a knit hat and a blanket covering his body. Overall, it didn't give much more information about her plane's seat neighbor. Not wanting to wake him up, she focused on the rest of the passengers instead. Why were all of them so quiet when she felt her heart could burst out of her chest anytime?

The plane started its runaway and Marinette closed her eyes tightly when it raised from the lane. Once in the air, she started breathing again, but her heart was still beating fast.

"First time on a plane?" a masculine voice beside her asked.

She turned to her side, and looked at the person seated next to her. His eye mask was over his head now, and she could see his blue eyes clearly, while his blue bangs partly covered his eyebrows.

“Y- yes!” she squeaked.

“You’re making me nervous too. Calm down, it’s going to be ok” he assured.

“I- I know!" She said, but her body wasn’t obeying. “I’m sorry...”

The young man sighed. “Look, I’ve been on a plane many times. It’s safe. Why don’t you try to sleep? It’s going to be a long flight.”

“I- I can’t! I’m too nervous! I’ve never traveled alone before, plus my career depends on this trip! I can’t stay calm!”

“Why don’t you try listening to some music, then? It always helps me relax” the young man offered her a sympathetic look.

“Music…?” she blinked. ‘It could work’.

She plugged the earphones and put them in her ears. Then, she scrolled through the music programs on the touch screen in front of her. Classical music? For some reason, it only made it worse. Country music? Not her style. XY? Hell, no. Her eyes stopped at the name of a fairly new band: “Kitty Section”. She played the video called: “Kitty Section's Paris Live Concert”.

“Good choice” the man next to her said when the title started showing on the screen.

Marinette had heard about the band called Kitty Section. They had featured in most of her favorite magazines after they won Eurovision several months ago, but she wasn't familiar with their music. In less than a minute, she was hooked and forgot completely about her surroundings or her nerves.

“Wow!” she mumbled, mesmerized, and the man next to her let out a snicker.

The music was amazing- the rock vibes, their stage presence, the vocalists’ cuteness and high ranged voice, the accurate and insane drums, the gorgeous purple haired bassist… all of them sounded incredible. But the guitarist… the blue haired guitarist was extraordinary- unbelievably good. Not only talented, but also powerful, charismatic and incredibly handsome.

“They’re good, huh?” The man beside her commented and she nodded. She could tell he was smiling under his face mask. She nodded in agreement.

“I had never heard them properly before but damn- they are incredible” Marinette answered, and he laughed. Her fingers tapped rhythmically, following the beat of the song. “But…" she continued, observing. "I think they could do better. There’s a margin of improvement,” she said with judging eyes.

“Oh, really? How?” The blue-eyed man asked, curious, resting his elbow on the arm rest to get a closer look.

“The costumes,” Marinette pointed out. Then, she reached her backpack under her feet and took out a sketchbook and a pen and started drawing. “The outfits could be improved if they added this, and this” she signaled. “And this-” She kept scribbling while the blue-haired man observed and listened to her suggestions. “And ta-da! Wouldn’t they look even better if they were like this?” She proudly showed him her designs, only to realize she was being embarrassing towards a stranger. “Ah, sorry- I got carried away…” She apologized. But the man took the sketchbook in his hands.

“Let me see,” he said, and she saw how his eyes examined every detail of her drawings. She gulped nervously. It felt like her skills were being tested. But the man took his face mask off and smiled. “Wow, that’s impressive. Fresh, charismatic, unique- and perfectly according to the band's style. I love them" he returned her the sketchbook. "You’re very talented. Are you famous? Do you take commissions?” He asked, and she looked at him speechless.

“I- I’m still a no-one… Is it really impressive?” She looked at him and blushed at the compliment.

“Yes, I think so. What would you do with this outfit?” He asked, showing him a photo of the same band on his smartphone. Her inspiration overflowed as she kept drawing and explaining her ideas. They kept discussing costumes and visual aspects of the band and chatted comfortably for a long time.

"I think Rose should go with something more… daring, bolder. She looks innocent but she's fierce inside. Of course, cuteness is her main trait, so I think she should combine both" she explained, coloring her design with colored pencils. "I think something like this would be perfect for her" she showed him her sketchbook and he was impressed. “As for Juleka-” She continued, turning to a blank page. “She’s so beautiful. I wish she didn’t cover her face so much, even if the mystery look is really attractive too…" She stopped drawing for a moment to admire the bassist on the screen. "Gosh- She's so gorgeous! I wish I was that beautiful” she commented.

“I think you’re even more beautiful than her, you know?” The blue-haired man casually said, and she shyly blushed with a 'no way' frantic arms movements. “What about the guitarist?” he asked, raising an eyebrow with a smug smile.

“Luka Couffaine? OH LORD SHOW MERCY- Have you seen him? And his eyeliner? It should be ILLEGAL to be this HOT” She said, convinced.

“Hmmm… So you like him, huh?” He teased, his smile widening.

“Who doesn’t, really?” She shrugged. “He’s literally the SEXIEST man alive. His eye contact with the camera could kill! Oh, and whenever he gets shirtless on stage or photoshoots? GOD- I almost get a nosebleed EVERY FREAKING TIME! He's TOO DAMN HOT" She fanned herself at the image. "Don’t you agree?" She asked and he blinked twice. "You like him too, right? You have so many photos of them in your phone! I bet he’s making you question your sexuality too, like he does with all my friends! How could anyone resist those blue eyes and his manly features, his soft looking blue hair and- his tattoos..." She looked away from her seat neighbor's blue piercing eyes, and focused at the smartphone screen again, to a close-up photo of Kitty Section’s guitarist. "How did you get these close-up casual photos...?” she asked, and then she noticed the tattoo on his neck. She looked back and forth at the man seated next to her and the one in the picture. ‘It couldn't be, right…?’ And at that moment, when he had a knowing smile on his face- one she knew too well-, she realized who he was seated next to on the plane. Her eyes opened as big as plates and she overheated. He was smirking amusingly at her reaction. “You- You- You are-? Lu-Lu-Luk- It can’t be…”

He nodded to confirm her suspicions and her jaw fell to the floor. “Hi. I think I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Luka. But I think you already know that. It’s nice to meet you.” He chuckled, straightening his hand for a handshake.

“Oh God, kill me now...” She mumbled, sinking on the table. Luka snickered.

“What’s your name?”

“Ma-Ma-Marinette… I mean- Marinette!” She felt his eyes on her and panicked. “Excuse me- I- I need a moment... This- This is too much- Oh My God...” She stood up and rushed to the end of the plane, not without tripping twice on her way there.

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While Marinette was gone, the two ladies in front of Luka and Marinette’s seats turned to Luka. “Having fun?” They smirked, knowingly. He was chuckling, having real trouble to keep his laugh from escaping.

“Oh, God, Yes. This is so much fun." He wiped the tears that were forming on his eyes. "I think I’ve found our potential new costume designer” he continued laughing under his nose.

“Only that? I think there’s more...” Juleka smirked, and Rose giggled in agreement by her side. He couldn't deny it: his sister was totally right.

Behind Luka's seat, Kitty Section's drummer, Ivan and his girlfriend Mylene had been enjoying the show the blue-eyed pair had been giving. It was definitely more entertaining than any movie. It would have been perfect if they had popcorn to accompany their fortunate first row seats to the hilarious show. They also approved Marinette's designs.

Luka took the chance Marinette wasn't there to freely stand up, go talk to their managers and stretch his legs for a bit.

_________________________

Back at the end of the plane, Marinette drank some juice and moved to the bathroom. She was panicking in front of the mirror, talking to herself.

“OH. MY. GOD. I’m seated next to Luka Couffaine! For at least… 5 hours more!? And I just called him hot! And- And- he said I’m beautiful and talented! And- Oh my God, he asked me for commissions, right? This can’t be real- I-" her feet wiggled uncontrollably and she let out a long squeak. "Ahh… Calm down, Marinette! He’s human- A sexy human, but still human! He’s famous but very friendly, kind and nice. And fun! It’s going to be alright. Just- Avoid his eyes. That’s it. It’s dangerous. Don’t fall in love. You’re not a teenager anymore, you’re over that stage, right? Only a few hours more. You can do it. I CAN DO IT!” She convinced herself with a confident nod and returned to her seat, only to find Luka was gone.

She looked for him from her seat, at her surroundings, but he was nowhere to be found. She sighed in both relief and sadness as she seated.

For some reason, she was missing him. Which was stupid, considering they had just met! But his company was certainly enjoyable... And, moreover, it was FUN. More than she ever remembered having. And not only because she was passionate about fashion or music. It had to do with his aura, his personality, his gentle manners- just... Luka.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back in a moment” A voice said from in front of her. “My brother is stupid, but he’s a decent person. Treat him well” The purple haired lady winked, beside a petit blond lady.

“Jul-!” She covered her mouth with her hands to stop herself from yelling her name. “And Rose-!?” 'Oh, no! They might have heard what I said too!' She panicked again and the ladies giggled amused.

“Ignore my sister and her girlfriend” Luka returned, and her face flustered when she noticed how tall and well built he was (not that she didn't know that, but it hit differently in first person). “Can I get back to my seat?” He politely asked, pointing at the window seat.

“Ah-! Yes! Of course!” She stood up so suddenly she tripped and fell on Luka’s chest. She immediately moved away in embarrassment, falling back instead, and Luka had to hold her again to avoid her imminent fall. “I’m sorry!”

“Are you ok?” He asked in concern, and she shyly nodded. Luka reluctantly let go of her and returned to his seat and Marinette settled back to hers.

Wait- Was that a blush on his face?

“Here” Luka offered her an envelope. “I don’t know what your plans in NY are but, here’s a VIP pass to our concert next Sunday. There’s also our contact card inside. I want you to consider the idea of working for us. Your costumes are impressive. We discussed it, and we want you in our team” Marinette had no words- totally speechless. Could she be this lucky? “What do you say?” Luka asked with a hopeful tender smile that made her weak.

“I- I’ll think about it. And- Oh God- I’ll totally be there for your concert” She blushed and Luka smiled kindly at her. Suddenly, she started searching inside her backpack, and took out a business card she offered him. “This is my contact. I- I have a fashion event next Monday. I would love you to come, if you can make it. Send me an email and I’ll get you some passes”

“Wow! That's impressive. I'll try to make it. Thank you, Marinette”

Marinette could hear her heart beating faster. No looking in his eyes, dammit. They kept talking for a while, enjoying their time together until they fell asleep out of exhaustion, Marinette’s head resting on Luka’s shoulder. He woke up earlier than her, but didn’t have the heart to wake her up until lunchtime. She looked like she really needed that rest.

When he left half of his lunch untouched, Marinette scolded him. “You have to eat! You’re too thin! Those abs and arms need consistency! Proteins!” She pointed at a photo of him shirtless and flustered again in embarrassment in realization. “Ah-”

Gosh- it really was fun, Luka thought, chucking. It was hard not to laugh out loud. Everything flowed so naturally it was unbelievable.

Damn. He didn’t want the plane to ever land.

“Marinette” he called, during their coffee time, and she looked back at him, redness still on her cheeks. “The plane will land soon but- Even if you don’t accept our offer… Is it possible for us to meet again? Out of business? Like this?”

Marinette flustered at his implications. “Do- Do you mean-?”

“A date. Would you go on a date with me, Marinette? Or just as friends, if you prefer. I like you, and I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun with anyone else” He took Marinette’s pen and one of his ‘Kitty Section’ contact cards and wrote something behind it. “These are my personal telephone number and email. We'll be in NY until Friday next week. It would make me very happy if you contact me, whenever you prefer, anytime” He said, securing the card in her hands.

Marinette blushed, looked at the card with glowing eyes, and then at his honest loving stare. Was it even possible that the man everyone was gushing about was asking her out? But this had nothing to do with his stage persona. Luka was someone she more than enjoyed spending time with. Naturally, quietly, assuring… She had no doubts about her answer.

“I want to meet you again, too” she stated, and wrote her personal number under his wristband. “I’m free on Wednesday” she shyly smiled, and his smile widened.

“Wednesday is it, then. I'll manage to find the time. Just for you." He smiled happily and only then she realized how deep she had fallen.

Ah- she hadn't wanted to fall in love. What a way to fail her own determination… But she couldn't complain, not at all.

And he felt the same way.

Luka and Marinette's hands locked together, and they lost themselves in each other’s eyes, smiling at each other.

“Why don’t you kiss her already, dumbass?” Juleka called, and Marinette blushed. “He won’t kiss you if you don’t give him proper permission, you know? He’s very considerate despite his looks. Tell him already”

“Jules… Why don’t you mind your business and make out with Rose instead?” He shushed his sister and Rose giggled, embracing Juleka. Luka returned his attention to Marinette. “Sorry about that”

“It’s ok… I-” She started, looking at his thin lips. “Will you kiss me if I want to? Because I think I do...”

“You do?” he asked, and she shyly nodded and he smiled softly, making her heart flutter.

She closed her eyes and he leaned closer to give her a sweet kiss on her cheek. She pouted a little, in disappointment, but he told her that, if she really wanted to kiss him, that would be the perfect excuse to meet him again and make it more special, like a beautiful lady like her deserved. Marinette understood his reasoning and agreed with it, despite the slight disappointment she felt she would have to wait a few days to get the chance to kiss him. Nevertheless, both of them happily smiled while their fingers remained interlaced, chatting and enjoying their time together the rest of the flight, until the plane landed and they had to unavoidably say their farewells.

“Thank you for everything, Luka. I forgot how scared I was of planes thanks to you and- I’ll see you soon?”

“I really hope so. I still owe you something, right?" He winked and she blushed happily. Luka gave her a final discreet and quick kiss on her knuckles. "Gosh- I miss you already...” He added, and Marinette felt the urge to cry. She dropped her bag to hold him in a needed embrace. He gladly reciprocated her gesture. Despite neither wanting to separate, they forced themselves to. "I hope I see you soon, Marinette"

"Me too, Luka…" she wiped her tears and waved, as the band started walking away.

When the arrivals doors opened and all the camera flashes blinded her, she understood why Kitty Section members always wore sunglasses in airports. They were more popular than she could have expected. She understood why he had refused to kiss her outside of the plane, but he still saluted her before disappearing in the multitude of fans and paparazzis.

On the other side, Sabrina, Audrey Bourgeois’ assistant, waited for her. She had almost forgotten about her own business. But now, she found the motivation she had lacked. If she was willing to be with Luka, she had to become the best. She wanted to make a name of herself, more than ever. And her meeting with Luka certainly boosted her confidence.

Unexpectedly, her trip to NY had already become one of her most memorable experiences yet. And it had just started! She couldn't wait to spend the rest of the week in the city.

#my fic #airipyon #airip4 #lbsc sprint fic #lbsc sprint fic challenge #LBSC sprint challenge #lukanette fic #Pro LukaMari #endgame lukanette #nevermind the title- i'm super bad at them #I kinda want to write part 2 #but I don't need more WIPs ;v;#I need to finish them instead Dammit XD

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hallowxiu · 4 years

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A Chance Meeting

pairing: human!mammon/demon!gn!mc

word count: 5.6k

summary: Never one for fate, you run into Mammon for a second time, albeit in a less than ideal scenario.

a/n: tw: there are mentions of pocket knives and mugging in this one shot.

part two of the demon!mc and human!mammon series.

part one

“Wow,” Satan comments as he steps into the kitchen, looking around at the disarray of all the dishes on the counters and in the sink. “This is the eighth day in a row you’ve been on cooking duty. And for all meals too, what did you do to piss off Lucifer so bad?” A sheepish smile formed on your lips and you can hear more footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

“You’re on cooking duty again? I miss Lucifer’s cooking!” Asmodeus stomps his foot and there’s a pout on his lips. You roll your eyes in response, but you didn’t exactly blame your younger brother. Your cooking wasn’t… the best. It certainly wasn’t the worst by any means, but it also wasn’t something you’d want for a week straight.

“Ah, well, you better get used to my cooking for the next several months. It’s my punishment.” You felt like crying on the spot. Too much cooking, way too much cooking. And to keep Beelzebub fed for so many days? That within itself was a punishment. Satan quirked an eyebrow at your news.

“What in the Devildom did you possibly do?”

“I uh, well, you see…” You didn’t want to explain this to your brothers, especially the two of them. They were quite ruthless when it came to gossip.

“Aren’t you supposed to be our role model? No wonder he’s stricter with the punishments.” There’s a cheeky grin on Asmodeus’ face and his eyes twinkle with amusement as he tries to piece together what you must’ve done.

“Then again, he favors you most, so your punishments aren’t that bad in comparison to ours.” Satan chimes in where Asmodeus left off. With a sigh, you decide to tell them. You knew they’d never leave you alone if you didn’t.

“I snuck off to the human realm.”

Silence.

Yeah, you should have expected that. In fact, you were. “Oh, well, yeah, that’ll do it.” Is all Asmodeus says before leaving the room. “Make something good tonight! I’m hungry, but don’t make it so oily this time! My skin is starting to suffer because of you!” You shake your head at Asmodeus, though you make the mental note anyway. One less person angry with you would be ideal, after all. You pause when you notice Satan still lingering by the entryway of the kitchen.

“What’s up?” You ask while you open the fridge, your eyes scanning for potential ingredients. You had no idea what to make; you exhausted your options after the second day. It’s a miracle you’ve managed to make it this long already.

“Why do you want to go to the human realm? To my understanding, you were never the type before that showed any particular interest in humans. I was told that it was Lilith and Belphegor’s route of interest.” Leave it to Satan to be the most curious. You were hardly surprised, after all, Satan was the only one who was never an angel, the only one who never met Lilith, and the only one who never experienced first hand the shit show that went down the day leading to everyone falling. You knew the other brothers rarely talked to him about their previous life, and you wondered if that ever upset him. However, being the doting older sibling, you didn’t like the idea of Satan feeling left out. If anything, he got all the details from you.

“I wanted to know what Lilith liked about humans so much, why she was willing to put everything on the line for one.” You answer your brother honestly. “Belphegor as well, I was hoping maybe that’d help me get closer with him. I know you don’t know from experience, but he wasn’t always this hostile and bitter. I’m not sure if the others told you, but he also adored humans just as much as Lilith. The two of them frequented the human realm together all the time.”

Satan seems to be soaking in the information like a sponge. You’re sure he’s grateful for the new information and while you knew he’d never tell you, he hated feeling left out with everyone. Maybe this would help him feel closer with the others. “I did not know that, although I suppose that would make sense. Beelzebub tells me a bit about Lilith and Belphegor every now and then. He always looks a little depressed when talking about them, so I assumed Belphegor changed compared to before.” You nod your head to Satan’s conclusion. “Did you find what you were looking for?” Images of the white-haired man suddenly flood your brain and you fight off a creeping blush that threatens to spread on your face. Did you find what you were looking for? You found something, but that doesn’t exactly answer the question.

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly once again. “I had only been down twice when Lucifer busted my ass. You know how he can be.” You sigh while putting containers of various ingredients on the counter. “Honestly, this is a pretty mild punishment for what I did.” Satan scoffs in response. You knew he’d disagree with anything having to do with the eldest brother. “That being said, I would like to go back.” Satan’s green eyes look at you in curiosity. You? The second eldest going against Lucifer? Now that’s something you don’t see every day. “I met a human there,” you try to tread carefully, “and we didn’t get off on the best foot.”

“So?” The blond looks at you with a head tilt. “Why would you care whether or not you got off on the wrong foot with a human?” You supposed it was hard for a demon to understand why this would matter. Then again, you were a demon and you didn’t even understand why this mattered to you. “Please don’t tell me you don’t know again.” He groans from your silence. “This is hardly interesting at this point. If you’re going to get in trouble with Lucifer, you might as well make it something good.”

“Sorry my life is too boring for your standards.” You snort while prying off a lid. “But it’s the truth. He was nice enough for a human.” Cute too, but Satan didn’t need to know that.

“Well.” a sigh leaves your brother, “keep me updated if you end up going back. Not that I find this interesting or anything. I just like pissing off Lucifer.” You chuckle to yourself once the other leaves. You thought his thinly veiled attempts of keeping track of your personal life was cute, even if he’d rather die than admit it. A sigh leaves you once you bring your attention back to the dilemma in front of you. Right, you’d have to get through this first.

You’re on your bed, fingers drumming along the back of your D.D.D case. You were bored out of your mind and done with cooking duty for the day. It was late into the night and most of your brothers would be asleep by now, so why weren’t you? An annoyed breath of air escapes you and you turn on your side. You can’t get that damned kid out of your head. Had he put some kind of curse on you? You thought the thought was nothing but that at first, a silly thought, but now that you can’t even sleep because of this mere human, your sleep-deprived state thinks it might be a little more serious than a passing thought.

You push yourself to sit up. You rub at your eyes groggily and you internally debate whether or not you should return to the human realm. The odds of Mammon being out and about were extremely slim, especially since the hour over there would also be ungodly. You were anxious for some reason, your body wanting to get up and start the day despite it being only a quarter past three in the morning. You were never one to believe in fate or get worked up over it, but your body was in panic mode and you had little to no idea why. You weren’t the type to get anxious over nothing either, and you thought you knew your body well enough as it was, but it seems you were mistaken. With a sigh, you close your eyes and prepare yourself for the future lecture you’d be sure to get. You already knew where you planned to go.

The air was cold, biting at your skin as you found yourself standing in the middle of the empty streets. You were back in the city you had visited the last two times, though something seemed… off. You couldn’t place as to what, but it was enough to send alarms throughout your body. You walked down the streets, for once regretting that you didn’t bring a jacket. Did demons tend to become more sensitive with each time they traveled to the human realm? You never remembered being this cold before.

Your eyes scanned over the closed stores, not a single soul out on the streets. You didn’t realize that even the city got this empty at night; you were expecting at least a few people here and there. It’s when you’d been walking for about ten minutes that you heard a commotion from one of the back alleys. Your eyebrow quirked and you paused in place. Should you get involved? As a demon, you didn’t want to meddle with humans too much, not if they weren’t Mammon or if you weren’t needed. Besides, what would your reputation turn to if you were caught helping humans in need whenever they were in trouble? Just keep going, that’s what you ended up telling yourself.

“Oi, whaddya think you’re doin’? Get your dirty hands off me!”

Okay, fuck that. Scratch every single thought that was previously in your head; it’s up in flames now. You found yourself rushing towards the source of the noise with your eyes blown wide as you frantically searched for the human you hoped wasn’t the one in trouble. “Mammon?” You shouted into the night. Every nerve was going off and you were just barely keeping your demon form back. You heard Mammon calling out for you and it kicked you into overdrive. You’re by his side in a second, pulling him away from a group of three men. “What the hell is going on here?”

“These annoyin’ assholes are tryna steal my money! A man can’t even walk home in peace without gettin’ mugged! Can ya believe that shit?” Still, you didn’t miss the way he inched closer to you as he anxiously glanced between the three of them.

“I thought your job closed in the evening?” You asked incredulously as you managed to put space between Mammon and the strangers.

“I have two jobs! Ya ever tried livin’ in a city? Do we even need to be discussin’ this right now?” Your eyes caught a glimpse of something shining and you abruptly moved in front of Mammon when noticing it was a pocket knife.

“We only planned on roughing him up a bit.” The man with the weapon explained, a smirk on his lips as he took a step closer. “But since he got his friend involved to make things more complicated, I think we’ll have to do a bit more than that.” You weren’t the least bit scared, but you needed to keep in mind that Mammon was a human and that the boy could easily get hurt if things went wrong.

“Get a job like him and you won’t need to mug people for the holidays.” You deadpan, Mammon gasping behind you.

“Are ya tryna get us killed? God, ya shoulda just kept walkin’!” Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance but you choose to ignore him for the time being. Did humans always have to be so ungrateful when they were in the middle of being aided?

Realistically, there were a few ways to go about this. The obvious and easiest one involved you shifting into your demon form, but then you’d have to kill three humans and scar Mammon. The cons were outweighing the pros, no matter how fast the situation would be resolved. The second option would be to fight them in your current form, which wouldn’t be too much of a problem as your strength wasn’t in question, but you’d still more than likely end up killing the three humans and traumatizing Mammon. He’d also probably want to call the police. Too much of a hassle for you.

Finally, you could just… scare them. They’d run away, Mammon would be safe, and no one would end up dead. The only con would be if Mammon ended up seeing how you planned on scaring them, but that was your last option and you didn’t have a ton of time to come up with any others on the spot. “Mammon,” you turned your head slightly so that you could see him, “stay where you are, okay? Don’t move and don’t get in front of me.” If you could do this with him standing behind you, that would be the ideal situation. When he nodded his head in confirmation, you closed your eyes and let out a sigh. The three men were advancing slowly, thrown off by your calm demeanor. It’s when you opened your eyes again that you could feel your face begin to shift and transform into something else, a form a demon only takes when their aim was, to put it bluntly, to scare the shit out of humans.

Naturally, when seeing your face, the three men dropped their weapons and ran, yelling and screaming the entire way until you were sure they were gone. Just as fast as you had transformed your face, you averted it back to its original form, turning around to face Mammon. “Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Now that you could properly analyze him, you had noticed he was covered with dirt and scratches, but other than that he seemed to be free of any major injuries. The man’s dazed as you looked him over, your hands pulling at his clothes and running through his hair to make sure you didn’t accidentally miss anything fatal.

“They just roughed me up a little, that’s all. Ya know, grabbin’ my hair and shit and throwin’ me on the ground. All that fun stuff.” You could tell he was shaken up, but other than that your human seemed to be in good health.

Wait. Your human? Why did you think that? It’s fine, just ignore it, it was probably just a slip-up. You’re panicked, after all, there’s no need to worry-

“How’d ya scare them off like that anyway?”

“Uh, I showed them a bigger pocket knife.” It was a lame excuse, but it’s what you had to work with.

“Oh, okay.” You’re thanking everything in the universe that he didn’t question you further on that. At the same time though…

“You really should question things more. Who knows what could gobble you up out here. How’d you even end up in this situation? Did they tell you to follow them?” You couldn’t help but mother hen him. Even though he admitted to being alright, and that it checked out, you were still worried over this fragile little human that needed your help and protection at all costs. Yes, that’s it. You were being generous with your time and helping a human out, that was all it was. He would owe you, that was for sure.

“What-- are you seriously grillin’ me right now? What happened to not victim blamin’ and shit, huh? They didn’t say shit to me! They just came up on me like I was a plate of steak and they were all starved dogs!” Interesting comparison, you note duly. “Next thing I know, I’m gettin’ dragged into some shady ass alley and they’re tryna steal all my shit! The joke’s on them, I’m flat broke anyway. They would have killed me and still walked away with jackshit.” That did little to ease your concerns. It amplified them.

“How are you still alive?” It was a question for yourself, but based on Mammon’s facial expression, you said it out loud.

“I’ll have ya know I’m great at self-defense! I didn’t need ya runnin’ to my aid like I was some damsel in distress or somethin’.” There was a red tint to his cheeks, but you weren’t sure if that was because of what just happened.

“Right.” You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. You glanced at the time on your D.D.D, ignoring the fact that Mammon was sending your phone a glare. Right, probably because I made up that lie the other day. You needed to get back home; should Lucifer find out you left yet again, he would have your head on a stick. At the same time, however, you didn’t feel comfortable leaving Mammon alone after he nearly got mugged. “Where do you live?” Consequences be damned, you weren’t letting anything else happen to this human.

“Huh?”

“Where do you live?” You repeated yourself as if it were a normal question to ask someone outside in an alley past three in the morning. “You don’t think I’m letting you walk home alone after all that, do you?” There’s a sly grin on your lips when Mammon begins to practically have a temper tantrum over your words. “Why are you so upset? I’m trying to make sure you don’t get mugged again. You could at least thank me.” Why were humans so ungrateful and complicated? “The quicker you stop throwing a complete fit, the sooner we get you back home.”

“I am not a child!”

“I never said you were.”

“You’re implyin’ it!”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

You decided to dial back the teasing in case he pops a blood vessel. With a sigh, you turned around on your heels. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you alone now. Just be careful and keep your guard up.” There was no way in hell you were going to leave him alone. If anything you’d just follow him in the shadows until you knew he was safe and sound. Stalkerish? Yes, possibly, but the right intentions were there.

As you began to walk away, a timid hand reached out and grabbed at your wrist. “Alright, fine. You can come with me, but don’t misunderstand. I’m not scared or nothin’, I’m just doin’ this simply so you’ll leave me alone.” A lopsided grin forms on your face when you look at his cute expression. Yeah, you were in trouble.

The walk was mostly filled with silence, the two of you strolling along side-by-side as you kept an eye out for any more potential threats. Mammon seemed less anxious now that you were with him, and that put a part of you at ease. The walking came to an abrupt stop and you looked up from the ground to view an apartment complex that you assumed Mammon lived in. “This your place?” It looked like you’d be able to get home before Lucifer found anything out after all.

“Yeah.” He’s rubbing at his arms awkwardly as he lingers outside. “Uh, thanks for, uh, helpin’ me out and whatnot.”

“Of course.” You knew there was something he was holding back based on his posture. “What’s wrong? Did someone follow us?” You turned around to quickly scan the area, though nothing came up.

“What? No! I just, I was wonderin’, if-- look, it’s late out, yeah? And it’s cold as fuck and ya don’t have a jacket on, so, I don’t know, did ya maybe want to, possibly spend the night?” You froze in place, a look of pure shock on your face as you stared at the human. “It’s nothin’ sexual!” He practically cried out in embarrassment. “It’s just to repay ya for helpin’ me out! I swear!”

You rub at the back of your neck shyly as you glanced around. “Yeah, sure, I don’t mind if you don’t mind.” So much for getting back home early.

You slip your shoes off once you walked inside before awkwardly standing in the middle of his living room. What were you supposed to do now? You swore in all of your life you’ve never been so awkward before, and not around a human either. “Feel free to sit on the couch if you’d like.” Mammon offers as he quickly grabbed the trash from the coffee table. “I’ll get ya some blankets from the closet, pillows too.” You do as you're told and you sit down to avoid feeling awkward. You look around the room once he’s gone. It wasn’t… bad. Sure, it was nowhere near the size of the House of Lamentation, but it wasn’t awful, either. Pictures of him and his friends were framed on the walls, empty pizza boxes were stacked on the kitchen counter, and empty water bottles filled the recycling bin to the rim. He was a little messy, but then again he wasn’t expecting company, so you decided not to judge him for it. Not too much, anyway. There was a small television held up by a cardboard box across from the coffee table. You had to give him credit for creativity.

“Sorry that the place is a dump.” Mammon reenters the room with blankets piled up in his arms, as well as a change of clothes for you. “I usually clean up when company comes over, but obviously…” His voice trails off as you take the blankets and clothes from him.

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him and the red tint to his cheeks return.

“You’re welcome.” He huffed under his breath before disappearing once again. “Let me find ya some pillows. I have a few extra ones around here somewhere.” He calls out from down the hall. You look down at the clothes he gave you. A baggy plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants. It was better than sleeping in your clothes you supposed. You began to pull your shirt over your head so that you could properly change before Mammon came stumbling back into the room. “I found some- oh god! Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you’d be changin’-- I have a bathroom, ya know. What the fuck am I even apologizin’ for? Who changes in the middle of someone’s livin’ room anyway?” You blink and looked over at a beet red Mammon who’s gripping onto the pillows for dear life, his eyes looking anywhere but at you. You didn’t understand the big deal, but then again, humans tended to react strangely to others who were naked or in the process of changing.

You slowly pulled your shirt back down and looked over at him again. “Sorry.” Is all you have to offer him.

“I,” it took him a second to recollect his bearings, “ya really aren’t from here, are ya?”

“No, I’m really not.”

“Right then…” He shifts on his feet uncomfortably before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I brought you some pillows.” He dumps them into your lap before storming down the hall. “I’m goin’ to bed; don’t steal anythin’ or I’ll kick ya to the curb!” You rolled your eyes at his empty threat before grabbing your clothes and pillows. This would count as one of the strangest nights of your life.

You woke up to the sun shining in your face, something you weren’t accustomed to. You rubbed at your eyes sleepily before pausing. No, as odd as it may be to you, the sun was not the thing that woke you up. A sharp poke to your side makes you look over.

Yes, that’s what woke you up.

You look over from where you were lying on the couch to see Mammon’s foot more or less kicking your side. He wasn’t putting any force behind the kick, but it nonetheless made you raise an eyebrow. “Are you kicking me?” The man paused his ministrations when realizing you were awake.

“I thought you were dead.”

“What?”

“I don’t know; sometimes people die in their sleep. Was makin’ sure ya weren’t one of them? How would I explain that to the police?” You stared at Mammon in disbelief, the white-haired man growing red in response to your judgmental glare.

“Ya don’t need to be so rude.” He finally huffs out in response and turned around with his arms crossed over his chest. “Listen, I was just wakin’ ya up because I need to get goin’ to work soon and I can’t have ya stayin’ around unsupervised in case ya steal all of my shit and I come back to a cleaned out apartment.” Well, he was certainly blunt with what he was thinking.

You slowly sit up and grab your D.D.D. You figured it was still early in the morning since Mammon had once mentioned that he worked at the crack of dawn. If you were lucky, you could make it back home before Lucifer would notice.

And that’s when you remembered that you saw sunshine when you woke up.

With immediate panic, you unlock your phone to look at the time. To your horror, it was nearly eleven in the morning. Lucifer was awake and speaking of the devil himself, you had several missed calls and messages from your brothers, specifically from Lucifer. You bolted from where you were previously resting as Mammon watched before he stumbled back from your sudden movements. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I gotta go.” You quickly said as you scooped up your clothes and rushed towards the door. Clumsily slipping on your shoes, you turned back to him. “I’ll return your clothes to you another day. Make sure you don’t get mugged again on your way home. If you need to, buy some mace or pepper spray or something.” Before he could respond to your advice, you’re out his front door and running down the hall. You were so so screwed.

Screwed hadn’t even begun to cover it. You showed up in the clothes a human lent you, reeking of a human, still drowsy as you had just woken up not long ago, and just overall completely disheveled. On top of that, you knew Lucifer was awake, but you had hoped to arrive home at a time where he was out with Diavolo and you’d be able to shower and change before your inevitable lecture, which might have gotten you off a little easier.

Except that’s not what happened, as before you even unlocked the front door Lucifer swung it open. Now you were sitting in his office as Lucifer silently paced around his room. This had been going on for thirty minutes. You could tell your brothers were waiting on the other side of the door, trying to see if they could hear anything. You wanted to tell them not to hold their breath, but you were too nervous to move and unable to take your eyes off your eldest brother.

“I thought I told you not to go back to the human realm.” You quickly looked away when Lucifer locked on to your gaze. “Look at me when I’m talking to you; I will not repeat myself.” Hesitantly, you found yourself looking back over at him. “Answer me.” His tone was that of a warning, and you knew at that moment you were on thin ice.

“You did.”

“And yet I found your room empty last night, and your D.D.D nearly unreachable.” You opened your mouth to speak, but Lucifer raises a hand to keep you silent. “And then I found myself thinking, that out of all my siblings, you couldn’t have been that stupid to return to the human realm after I told you to stop.” You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, and you lean back against the couch you were sitting on. You tried to shrink yourself, but that didn’t make Lucifer any less intimidating. “And then I thought, ‘Lucifer, don’t be so hard on them, maybe they needed a fresh breath of air. You can’t accuse your siblings of being up to something whenever they’re out of your sight. Surely they aren’t that bad.’” He quickened his pace as he circled the room. “But then after two hours you didn’t return, and something told me you yet again disobeyed me and returned to the very place I warned you not to go. Tell me, was watching Lilith and Belphegor suffer because humans not good enough for you? You were never a sibling I had to worry about before. You always listened to me and you helped me keep everyone in line. Why is it that now I have to keep my eye on you?” He stopped abruptly and rubbed at his temples.

You felt irritation stir deep inside you, though you bit back what you wanted to say. You knew Lucifer was getting worked up, and if you started an argument now, it wouldn’t end well for anyone involved. “I’m sorry.” Keeping the peace seemed like a better option for you at the moment. You knew what battles to pick, and this was not one of them. “I shouldn’t have lied to you and snuck out--”

“You came back in the clothes of a human.” Lucifer seethed. “You smelled like a human. Do you have a human lover? Are you seeing a human?” He looks at you with wide eyes, the demon looking like he was on the brink of insanity. “I will not watch someone I love fall because of humans. Not again. If you’re seeing a human then forget about it. It’s over.”

“I’m not involved with a human, Lucifer.”

“Then why are you wearing their clothes? Why do you smell more human than a demon? You were gone for an entire night!” You flinch when he raised his voice and he noticed, the demon then trying to dial it back somewhat. He never liked arguing with you even when you were the one in the wrong. Perhaps it was one of the perks of being the favorite? “If you were hunting humans you wouldn’t be gone all night. If you were just looking around you wouldn’t be gone all night! Tell me, what were you doing? Who were you with?” You swallow nervously and averted your gaze. Getting Mammon in trouble, and with Lucifer of all people, was not what you wanted to do. “I will not repeat myself. Who--”

“I’m not telling you who I was with.” This wasn’t usual for you. You didn’t talk back to Lucifer, you didn’t tell him no, and you certainly didn’t argue with him. But you knew if you gave him Mammon’s information, the human that you tried so desperately to save last night might be put in danger once again, but this time by your brother. It wasn’t a situation you wanted to get involved in, so you’d try and prevent it as best as possible.

“Pardon?” There’s a look of shock on his face, and you could almost hear one of your brother’s gasps from outside the door.

“I’m not going to tell you who I was with last night. Why would I? So you can kill him?” If looks could kill, you’d be dead right now.

“So it’s a man.”

You groaned at your brother’s response. Typical Lucifer. “Lucifer, I already apologized for going without your permission, but I’m an adult, and I’m not going to give you every little detail of what I did when I was in the human realm.”

“It’s the way you think that that suffices as an apology.” He states in disbelief. “You need to learn to stay in your place.”

“And where’s my place?”

“If you were smart, you’d learn quickly.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not going to ask again. Who is he?”

“I’m still not going to tell you.” You knew Lucifer would go to any length to protect those closest to him, and if he deemed Mammon as a threat it would most likely end with the human getting wiped from existence. You could see the anger just barely restrained behind his eyes, the demon shifting into his demon form without even realizing it.

“If that’s how you want to play, then we will play it your way. You are forbidden from ever attending the human realm again.” You blink several times before rising from your seat.

“And who are you to make that decision?”

“Along with that, you are to stay in my sight until I decide you can be trusted on your own again. Lord Diavolo doesn’t approve of random trips to the human realm, and when he finds out that you’ve been making day trips there, you’ll suddenly find yourself with lots of free time on your hands.” You paused. You hadn’t thought of that. You knew, although Diavolo was pushing for realms to reach peace with one another, that he wouldn’t approve of a demon taking unauthorized trips to the human realm.

“But--”

“No. We’re finished here; there’s nothing further to discuss.” You knew his words held truth by the expression on his face. You watch wordlessly as Lucifer leaves his study, leaving you alone in the room with just your thoughts.

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Lucien’s Noble Virtue Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers!🍒

Note: This date was translated by @redqueenschoice! All I did was format and check through :> It’s on my blog because she doesn’t want to put individual translations on hers...

Lucien’s Qixi Collection: Date ♡ / Call 1 / Call 2 / Event / Special Call

I was mistaken to be a demon by several Taoist priests. Luckily, Lucien helped me escape from them. On my way home the second day, I ran into Lucien by coincidence. I intended to bring him to the forest near my home to pick some fruits, but discovered that my home had been burned down by some people…

The night is heavy, and in all four directions there is nothing but soundless silence. Only a small window remains lit.

Under the flickering candlelight, I see the indistinct silhouette of a man dressed in white robes sitting at the long, narrow table, back facing me as he looks at the bookshelves.

Psst…

All of a sudden, the flames on the candles jump and the movement of his hand stills with it, an elegant finger resting on the corner of a page.

Right at this moment, an abrupt, ear-splitting noise shatters the peaceful night.

Taoist Priest: Catch the demon!

Like a stone thrown into still waters, it causes ripple upon ripple upon the once calm surface. People who were sound asleep a few moments ago are galvanised into action, and in an instant the compound is once again bathed in torchlight.

No time to be hesitant! Gritting my teeth, I jump, slipping and sliding my way down the roof, falling straight into the room.

Man Dressed in White: Who is it?

MC: Ahh!

Alarm bells ringing in my head, I rush forward to clap a hand over the man’s mouth.

MC: Keep your voice down! I don’t have any bad intentions.

Standing on tiptoes, I lean forward to whisper into his ear.

MC: I’m being hunted by some Taoist priests for being a demon, but they are mistaken!

MC: If you won’t make a sound, I’ll release my hand.

The man’s initial shock seems to be wearing off, only to be replaced by an inquiring gaze.

MC: If you understand, blink twice. Got it?

Under the moonlight streaming in from the windows, I realise that the man before me has a pair of clear and beautiful eyes. After a moment of contemplation, he lightly blinks twice in succession.

MC: Then I’ll release you…

Who would have thought that the moment I pulled my hand away, the man’s voice would sound right next to my ear.

Man Dressed in White: Someone, come quickly… mmph!

MC: You…. How could you go back on your word like that!

The temporal trust I had in him was broken. I stare angrily at the man with my hand over his mouth again, reminding myself that one cannot simply trust appearances. As if trying to provoke me on purpose, he turns to look at me with a guileless expression, his gaze clear.

Fiercely, I give him a sharp glare, and begin to threaten him.

MC: Listen up, you. I might not be a demon, but I’m not like ordinary people either. If I fall into the hands of those Taoist priests, it isn’t going to be anything good for you too!

Man Dressed in White: Oh? Is that so.

The man pulls my hand down with remarkable calm, raising an eyebrow at me with a serene smile, a wisp of amusement dancing in his eyes.

MC: You…

I can’t help but grow slightly apprehensive… Could he possibly be that person of high ranking and station who’s elusive and never shows his face?

I awkwardly let out a soft cough, looking about for a moment, and decide to change my strategy.

MC: Of course, if you cooperate well, it’ll be a different matter altogether.

With these words, I open up my hand and let a burst of energy leave my body. Shining with white light, the luminescent rays I produce shine about on my palm, before they coalesce into a tiny fruit. Upon seeing this, surprise flashes across the man’s face. For a moment, I wonder if he’s been shocked by my spiritual powers, and can’t help but feel slightly proud.

Man Dressed in White: Is that… “purple ying fruit”?

MC: How do you know that? Only at the forest near my home can one find these fruits.

He doesn’t answer. After looking at the fruit in the middle of my palm, his gaze returns to my face, his expression growing more and more severe.

Man Dressed in White: Tell me, how did you get your spiritual powers?

In the blink of an eye, an invisible, oppressive force envelopes me, making it difficult to breathe.

MC: Why… why should I tell you?

I try to look unaffected, but the man seems to see through me easily, and lets out soft laughter. The intimidating aura radiating from his body disperses in an instant.

Man Dressed in White: Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to you.

With these words, he leans over to pick up the fruit in my palm, the expression on his face showing that he’s enjoying himself quite immensely. Clearly, I was the one threatening him. But why does it feel like the tables have turned?

Not wanting to be looked down on by him, I try to explain myself, upset.

MC: Don’t underestimate me! My spiritual powers are actually quite awesome, it’s just that right at this moment, I can’t really use them…

MC: If you agree to help me this time, I promise I’ll repay you greatly in the future!

He laughs again, eyes twinkling, and is just about to reply when there’s the sudden noise of frantic knocking on the door.

Thud thud thud.

Taoist Priest: Anyone there!?

My heart beats like a drum in my chest. I had no idea that the Taoist priests would catch up with me so quickly. The man motions for me to hide myself, before walking to the door. Seeing that I’m unable to restrain him, I can only slip into the shadows and pray that he won’t hand me over to them.

Man Dressed in White: What is it?

Taoist Priest: Young master, apologies for the disturbance we’ve caused you. We discovered a demon nearby who’s especially cunning in shapeshifting, and has been taking the form of an ordinary woman all along.

Taoist Priest: After exposing her, my brothers and I chased her from the mountains all the way here. May I ask if the young master has encountered any disturbances tonight?

Man Dressed in White: I have.

At his words, my heart plunges in my chest. Suddenly, however, I see him pointing outside of the room towards one of the walkways on the right.

Man Dressed in White: I saw a silhouette of a person running in that direction. It’s just that they were too quick, and I wasn’t able to see clearly if it’s the… demon that you’re searching for.

The word ‘demon’ is spoken with more intent, power woven into every syllable. The Taoist Priest expresses his thanks gratefully.

Taoist Priest: Many thanks to you, young master! We will capture the demon immediately!

With that, he indicates to the rest of his men to come with him and they vanish together with him. Looking at their receding backs, I let out a sigh of relief.

MC: Wahh… you scared me earlier!

Man Dressed in White: Apologies, it was a slip of the tongue. However, I didn’t think you would be this scared.

MC: Of course I was terrified! Earlier, they took out charms and amulets and even talked about burning me! Luckily, I was able to give them the slip quickly.

MC: But thank you for your benevolence in saving me! I’m afraid… I have yet another favour to ask of you…

The moonlight from outside slowly waxes. I look at the man opposite me and rub my nose, feeling a little bad.

MC: It’s already late and I’m afraid I’ll run into those men again if I leave now so… would the young master be willing to let me lodge here for one night?

Even though I don’t know or understand him, for reasons I don’t understand, the aura that this man radiates is rather familiar. Tonight, I have no other choice, and only have this half baked plan to save myself.

Man Dressed in White: Alright.

MC: How can you agree so quickly?!

Man Dressed in White: Then, would you rather I reject your request?

MC: Of course not! I just thought that if you let me stay… you might run into some sort of danger…

At my words, the corners of the man’s lips lift up in a slight smile.

Man Dressed in White: I trust my instincts.

Note from Red: 👀

MC: Then I’m extremely grateful to you! How should I address you?

He looks into my eyes steadily, and gives me a light smile.

Man Dressed in White: Call me Lucien, then.

The moment the sun rises on the second day, I depart from Lucien’s house, leaving behind several purple ying fruits on his table as thanks.

On the journey home, the summer heat is near unbearable and I lick my dry lips, throat suddenly very parched.

MC: I’m so thirsty… if only there was some water to drink.

Lucien: Although I have no water, I do have fruits that are able to quench one’s thirst. I wonder if you would be interested in them?

A serene and gentle voice drifts from behind me and I turn towards the sound in surprise, only to see Lucien standing there, eyes curved into crescents and holding two fruits I had left him in his palm.

MC: Lucien! What are you doing here?

Lucien: I’m a physician, so it’s only natural that I scour through the mountains for medicinal herbs.

Lucien: This morning, when I saw the gift you had left behind, I nearly thought I had let a ‘river snail maiden’ stay in my house for the night.

Lucien walks over, and presses the two fruits into my hand.

Lucien: These fruits have a rather decent taste to them. Coincidentally, I also found out that they seem to have medicinal properties that I could use.

Lucien: I remember you mentioning that these fruits only grow in the forest near your home. Is that right?

MC: That’s right! Do you need some? I’m on my way home right now, so I could bring you along with me if you want me to.

Lucien: Then I will have to trouble you, miss.

Along the forest path that we take, there’s the occasional call of a bird, and the crunching of leaves under our feet. Apart from that, however, the vast forest is especially quiet and peaceful.

MC: That’s strange. Why haven’t we met anyone along this path yet?

MC: But the footprints along here are all over the place, as if many people have taken this road…

Lucien: My guess is that it has something to do with you.

Lucien: This place is rather secluded, and not many people live here. Coupled with the ruckus of a demon being discovered last night, the news must have already spread rapidly all the way down here.

MC: You’re saying… because they were scared, they fled on the same night? Hahaha… that can’t be it…

After laughing for a bit, the smile on my face fades slowly.

The night before, my only focus had been to shake those priests off my tail, and I had not thought about how I was going to explain this incident to the people yet.

MC: It’s all those priests’ fault!

MC: If it weren’t for them having no regard at all for the lives of demons, and trying to eliminate two lesser demons without relenting…

Trivia from Red: MC uses a Chinese idiom 草菅“妖”命, which is a play on the actual Chinese idiom 草菅人命. 人 means human, while 妖 means demon, so she’s saying that the priests treat the lives of demons as less than straw or grass.

MC: I wouldn’t have outed myself trying to save them.

Sulking, I smack myself on the head lightly.

Lucien: So that’s what happened.

Lucien thinks about what I said for a moment, and smiles.

Lucien: This is truly interesting.

Lucien: As one from the human race, you detest those priests, yet do not hate demons.

Lucien: Here I thought after the calamity that happened ten years ago, all humans would hate demons and mythical beasts down to the very marrow of their bones.

Lucien: You really are a very strange maiden.

His words jog my memory to the past that happened ten years ago – that terrible conflict.

I heard that when I was eight, everything under the sun was in chaos and calamity. Tens of thousands of demons emerged. They committed evil all over the world, and caused the common people to suffer unspeakable horrors.

Of course the humans’ animosity towards demons would run strong and deep.

People like me who don’t hate demons are few and far between, so it’s no wonder that he finds me a little eccentric.

MC: Actually, just as there are both good and bad humans, I think that applies to them as well.

MC: That terrible calamity was only able to come to an end because of the appearance of the heavenly beast Bai Ze. It’s he who single-handedly vanquished and suppressed all those demons.

MC: Although he wasn’t human, he could understand the pain of the people, and sympathised with them.

Lucien: On the contrary, I do not think he’s such a kindhearted person.

Lucien’s words stop me dead in my tracks.

Lucien: The Bai Ze has lived for hundreds and thousands of years. All he has done might not be for anyone at all.

Lucien: Being driven to act by emotions - that seems to be an experience wholly unique to the human race.

Lucien: In the end, the Bai Ze is not human.

Lucien says this lightly, yet there is a shred of uncertainty in my heart.

MC: Then what did he do it for? Is alleviating the suffering of humans not a good enough reason for him?

MC: As a doctor yourself, when you’re saving those on the verge of death or helping those who are injured, are you not swayed by emotions?

Lucien: Life and death is only natural, and one cannot flee before it.

Lucien: I’m only following the natural order of the world.

His words make me pause for a moment, but after a short while, I shake my head again.

MC: I still believe that not all demons are evil by nature. And besides…

MC: I’ve been saved by one of them before.

Something flashes in Lucien’s eyes, transient.

Lucien: Oh? How so?

Looking about and seeing that there’s no one else in sight, I hesitate for a moment before opening my mouth to speak.

MC: When I was young, I ate something unknown in a forest and ended up fainting, remaining unconscious for three days.

MC: But in my dreams, I could feel spiritual energy flowing into my body continuously. I always think that there might just be something that’s always protecting me silently.

MC: However, I think that it’s an existence far more powerful than a human or a demon at that.

While reminiscing my story, I don’t notice the way Lucien’s eyes fall upon me.

Quietly, he withdraws his gaze and smiles lightly.

Lucien: It seems that I am not mistaken.

MC: Eh?

Just as I begin to wonder what he could mean by this, Lucien suddenly stops, the smile on his face completely vanished.

MC: What’s wrong?

The second I say those words, I begin to smell the stench of something burning in the air. I follow Lucien’s line of sight to see the forest before us burning fiercely, gigantic flames licking at the trees.

Thick smoke spirals upwards through the air, and the animals of the woods flee the fire in every direction. In the distance, I see my house in the heart of the flames, the flames consuming everything in its surroundings.

Amidst the flames, I catch sight of several amulets plastered over the side of my house, and on the wall is written ‘demon’.

Everything had been just as Lucien thought it would be. The people really did think I was a demon.

MC: Why, without listening to my explanation, they…

Anger, hurt and sorrow well up in me, but also a sense of burning determination.

MC: No, I can’t let all this be burnt down for nothing!

Taking a step forward, a hand wraps around me and pulls me backwards, and I lose my balance, falling into Lucien’s embrace.

Lucien: What are you intending to do?

Lucien: Judging from how large this fire is, even before an incense stick burns out, your house will have been burnt to the ground.

Trivia from Red: Ancient Chinese people used to measure time by burning incense sticks, so time could be told by how many incense sticks were burnt in that duration.

Lucien: Even if you put yourself in danger and charge in now, you still wouldn’t be able to return it to its original state.

MC: What I’m worried about is not the house!

MC: If this fire keeps on burning, the fire will eventually burn down the forest, and the spirits who live here will have their homes destroyed!

Lucien’s eyes flicker with complex emotions for a moment, but he quickly brings them under control.

Lucien: Even if that is the case, you think that you can stop a fire of this size with your power alone?

At his question, I shake my head honestly, looking into his eyes with earnest conviction.

MC: Lucien, I know I’m just an ordinary person. However, I’m an ordinary person with some special abilities.

MC: I’m not like you, a physician, who can save those in need of medical help;

MC: And neither am I like Bai Ze, who can calm everything under the sky, and bring peace to the common people, but…

I reach out, pulling down the hand that’s holding me back slowly.

MC: But I’ll do the best of what I can with what I have. I won’t waste the power that I have.

At the sight of my determined gaze, Lucien seems stunned, looking slightly perturbed.

MC: Go back first! It’s too dangerous here. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. I won’t get hurt.

I wave at him to leave, and without a second of hesitation, run straight into the flames.

All sound seems to be drowned out from my ears, and only my heartbeat resounds over and over again. I concentrate on running straight to the heart of the fire.

Towards it, aside from what I had told Lucien earlier, there’s an inexplicable feeling that even I cannot put into words even if I tried.

There’s a person that I met here before, and it’s a memory I don’t want to lose no matter what.

Even though I cannot recall it myself.

The girl only focuses on running forward, and does not notice the shining light that starts to shine beneath her feet with every step she takes. It slowly wraps around her entire body, protecting her from being burned by the fire.

Behind the girl, Lucien stands where she left him, silently watching her back. Just like he did all those years ago.

The fire grows bigger and bigger, and the black smoke chokes the sky, turning it dark.

White light shines from my palms, eradicating some of the flames before me. Just as they disappear, however, their place is taken over by larger, fiercer flames. My ability to think slowly fades.

Just when I couldn’t hold on anymore, the sound of a flute drifts through the air, piercing through the roar of the fire.

Right after that, pat. I look up, and a raindrop lands on my forehead.

Two drops, three drops. The rain grows heavier and heavier, and what was once a light drizzle begins to fall hard. It scatters the smoke in the air, and puts out the fire around me.

In the blink of an eye, as if by magic, the massive fire has been extinguished.

The clouds in the sky part to allow the sun to shine through, its gentle rays touching the ground.

I turn around and look towards the source of the flute’s melody…

In the scattered, mottled light, I see that the one who is playing the flute is Lucien.

With the sound of his flute, the trees that had been charred by the fire sprout new leaves, and the ground that had been scorched black covers itself in green once more. Even the flowers that had been scorched now grow again, one by one, dotting the woods.

Lucien’s eyes are closed, immersed in the music, as if listening to the sounds of every creature under the sun.

I continue staring in a daze at the sight before me until the song ends. When that happens, the animals and life have returned to the woods once more.

As if he’s long sensed my gaze on him, Lucien opens his eyes slowly, his gaze coming to rest on me.

A gentle breeze wafts across him, his hair and clothes moving slightly with the wind, and his eyes are pure and bright.

Lost in thought, I feel like I’ve seen those eyes before somewhere. At that moment, he looks at me the same way.

MC: Just who are you…

Lucien: More importantly, you should rest right now.

Lucien’s gaze is filled with gentle warmth.

Lucien: your spiritual energy right now is too weak and unstable. If you continue to go on like this, I’m afraid that you’ll put your life in danger.

MC: How do you know that my spiritual energy is too weak? Can you sense my spiritual power somehow?

Lucien: Because…

Lucien’s eyes flash for a moment, before a small smile forms on his face.

Lucien: Because you couldn’t even beat those priests from yesterday.

MC: …

I wanted to argue, but felt a wave of exhaustion pass over me. I blink tiredly.

MC: But… you still haven’t told me who you are.

Everything before me becomes more and more blurry. In this haze, I feel a hand resting lightly on top of my head.

Lucien: Be obedient, now.

Lucien: What you want to know… I’ll let you recall it soon.

As if in a dream, the haze before my eyes suddenly lifts. The forest before me is exactly the same, except this time, the trees are much shorter than they are in the present.

I see a white divine beast with his eyes closed, collapsed on the ground, before him a small pile of what resembles purple ying fruit.

At the side, a young girl squats beside him, eyes wide as she watches him.

My heart skips a beat at the sight – that little girl, it’s me!

MC: How did you get all these injuries? Does it hurt? Can I touch you?

The little girl stretches out a hand, and being careful to avoid its injuries, softly strokes it.

The moment she touches him, the divine beast opens his eyes, and in his gaze swirls a mixture of shock and uncertainty.

Those eyes!

While I’m still thinking about it, I hear the girl speak again.

MC: Why won’t you eat anything? Do you not want to live anymore?

MC: Perhaps… are you like me, who’s lost my family?

My heart suddenly throbs. At that time, to me, losing my family was the most painful thing in the world.

MC: I understand that’s very sad, but there are so many sights in the world that I haven’t seen, and so many fruits I haven’t tasted. Dying now would be too much of a pity.

MC: You shouldn’t give up either!

The words pour from the girl’s mouth in a steady flow, as if the beast can understand everything she’s saying.

MC: This fruit is called the purple ying fruit. It’s especially sweet! I’ll let you try some.

The girl picks up a fruit and holds it up to the beast’s mouth, smiling at him, although her hand trembles a little from fear.

For a while, the beast doesn’t move. Just as the girl is about to give up and put her hand down, he suddenly opens his mouth, and with sharp teeth steals away the fruit in her hand.

The girl jumps in fright at his sudden action, but seeing that he’s finally willing to eat, happily begins to share the purple ying fruit with him.

Young!MC: Hmm, why is this fruit white?

In the pile of purple fruits, the young girl catches sight of a white fruit.

Young!MC: I wonder how it tastes like… let me taste it!

Note from Red: mc nO-

With that, she pops the fruit into her mouth. The divine beast’s eyes widen, and he gets to his feet with the intention to stop her, but can’t do anything as he watches the girl swallow the fruit.

Young!MC: [cough]

Young!MC: This fruit… isn’t… isn’t tasty…

The young girl’s face creases, skin pale before she collapses to the ground.

The divine beast makes to move closer, but hears footsteps approaching from afar.

After a moment of hesitation, he hides behind the trunk of a large tree. He watches as two passing woodcutters discover the girl and decide to carry her down the mountain.

The breeze blows lightly, and the trees sway in the wind. The divine beast watches the girl’s back from a distance, deep and serene eyes flickering with something for the first time.

???: MC… MC…

Someone seems to be calling my name.

I feel warm energy entering my chest slowly, and the lost memories I once held seem to return with it, turning clearer and clearer in my mind.

From the midst of that dream, I open my eyes and realise that I’m lying on the forest floor.

Lucien: Have you awoken?

Note from Red: OH MY GOD SEXY LU PIC HERE

Lucien stops in the midst of pouring energy into me. One hand propping up his head, he smiles down at me lightly.

Opening my eyes just to see a sight like this, I can only stare with wide eyes and blink owlishly at him.

Note from Red: same, mc, same…

Lucien: Not too long ago, you fainted from an overuse of spiritual energy.

Lucien: Is this what you mean by ‘I know what I’m doing’?

Lucien: It seems that even though this silly little girl has already grown up, her habit of being a busybody hasn’t changed in the least.

My heart skips a beat. No wonder I thought his eyes looked so familiar…

MC: So you were the divine beast I met when I was young!

The image still fresh in my mind, I blurt out these words thoughtlessly.

MC: Then what about your injuries from last time? Are they alright?

Lucien: After waking up, that’s the first question you ask?

Lucien: If you want to know, how about you examine me yourself?

Note from Red: 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 (yes please)

It’s only then that I notice that the collar of his shirt has been pulled wide open, revealing the flawless skin of his chest.

And my hand is hooked onto the fabric incriminatingly, resting over his chest where I can feel his heartbeat through the skin of my palm.

As if understanding my confusion, Lucien ‘kindheartedly’ decides to explain to me what happened.

Lucien: I didn’t think that in sleep, you would be so forward.

MC: …!!!

MC: I… I’m sorry… Ah!

In my hurry to sit up, I accidentally smack my face into his hard chest, and can only rub my nose in pain.

Lucien: Are you alright? Calm down, I was just teasing you a little.

Me, alright? My heart is pounding wildly, so I quickly try to distract him with a question.

MC: So we knew each other from long ago… but why don’t I remember a thing?

Lucien: I made you forget.

MC: But…

At that moment, memories flash through my mind and I gasp in realisation.

MC: It was you who poured spiritual energy into me every night when I was unconscious, weren’t you!

When he did it to me earlier, it had felt so familiar.

Lucien: There’s something you got wrong earlier. I’m not a human, but I’m not a demon either.

Lucien: Rather than the name I use presently, humans have called me ‘Bai Ze’ for ages.

MC: You… You’re the Bai Ze?!

I never would have thought that I would meet the legendary divine beast!

MC: So, the reason I was able to attain spiritual powers - does that have something to do with you as well?

MC: What was the thing I ate when I was a young? Why did it cause me to be unconscious for three days?

MC: Did my spiritual powers come about because of it too?

Lucien: You’ve asked so many questions at once. Which should I answer first?

Lucien: Now that you mention it, you’ve reminded me of something – that time, you stole one of my elixir pills and ate it.

MC: You mean that fruit was actually your elixir pill?!

Lucien: I never said that it was a ‘fruit’. I was originally going to eat it to regain my strength and heal my body, but I didn’t think that it’d end up being eaten by you.

MC: That’s why you wouldn’t eat any of the fruits I plucked for you. You already had an elixir pill with you…

Something suddenly dawns on me.

MC: The legends say that elixir contains natural energy from both the sky and earth, and can speed up healing and replenish spiritual energy…

I bend down to pluck a few blades of grass, pretending I don’t pay too much mind to it.

MC: No wonder you looked down on my fruits.

Lucien only smiles, and speaks up to explain himself.

Lucien: That elixir is extremely potent. If an ordinary person eats it, they wouldn’t be able to bear the spiritual energy it holds, and might end up injured or even losing their life.

Lucien: You were lucky to survive unscathed.

MC: Ahaha… I had no idea how close I came to dying…

Lucien: However…

Lucien: The elixir you ate was spiritual energy that took three hundred years to cultivate. How do you intend on paying me back for it?

MC: What? Three… Three hundred years?!

I’m so shocked that I nearly bite my own tongue.

Lucien: Could it possibly be that you ate my elixir, and have no intentions to repay me?

I can’t help but swallow - who would have thought that because of a moment of greediness, I would end up becoming indebted like this?

With the spiritual power I have now, even if I worked for my entire life, there’s no way I would be able to make an elixir worth three hundred years of cultivation!

Upon seeing my horrified face, Lucien laughs.

Lucien: Now that I think about it, there’s nothing you have that is particularly worth much.

Lucien: However, there is something you have on you that I am very interested in.

MC: What is it?

His gaze rests on me, and he opens his mouth slowly to speak.

Lucien: I want to know what it is that makes you run headlong into danger, even when there’s nothing that would benefit you at all.

So it’s nothing too big after all. I let out a sigh of relief.

MC: Isn’t it quite simple?

MC: Because I care, because I get upset, because I can’t bear to watch something happen…

MC: People have many emotions.

MC: After all, as the Bai Ze who came down from the sky and saved humans, shouldn’t you know this already?

Lucien’s expression doesn’t change.

Lucien: When I helped the human race, it was only to maintain the natural balance among all creatures - there was no complicated personal desire that motivated me. As for the emotions you’ve mentioned…

Lucien: Although I’ve read about it in books, and witnessed it in human beings, I’ve never once experienced them for myself.

Lucien ponders this for a moment, before he looks at me and gives me a beatific smile. I, on the other hand, feel a shiver run down my back.

Lucien: If you help me experience emotion once, I’ll consider your debt repaid in full. How does that sound?

I open my mouth to reply, but take a long time to sort out my thoughts.

MC: But… why do you want to experience emotions so badly?

Lucien: Hmm, just take it as me wanting to satisfy my curiosity.

MC: But experiencing emotions isn’t something that can just happen overnight. I can’t stay by your side at all times, can I?

Lucien: Why not?

MC: Eh?

I stare with wide eyes at Lucien, but he only replies calmly.

Lucien: Your house has just been burned down. You haven’t found somewhere to stay for the time being, am I right?

MC: That’s true…

Lucien: This is good timing for me. To avoid being disturbed by other beasts and demons, I sometimes assume human form, and I just happen to lack a page to bring me tea and grind my ink.

Lucien: If you can do these well, I wouldn’t mind giving you some spiritual power.

MC: Really?!

Lucien: Absolutely.

To tell the truth, if I said that my heart wasn’t tugged just a little, I would be lying.

To be able to have a place to stay, increase my own spiritual power and be able to repay my debt all at the same time? This must be an opportunity only heaven can bestow.

It’s just that… I would have to make tea for him when he wants it, listen to his orders. There are some things I’m not quite willing to do.

While I’m struggling to make up my mind, Lucien is merely admiring the flowers at the side. From the relaxed expression on his face, he seems to already know what decision I will make. After thinking for a while, I come to a decision.

MC: Alright, I’ll do it.

Lucien: Have you thought it through?

MC: Yeah. Besides, you did save my life before. I’m not one to be ungrateful to a benefactor.

Lucien: Very well. This shall be our arrangement.

Lucien: Then, I’ll have to trouble you to teach me well.

The side of Lucien’s mouth lifts slowly into a smile, warmer than the rays of the sun that shines down from overhead, and I temporarily lose myself in it.

Suddenly, many images flash through my mind.

The first time I met him, the time when he prevented me from running into the fire, and those clear eyes.

Those placid, still eyes from before, seem to have just the slightest hint of ordinary human emotion in them now.

I wonder - once he gets to experience human emotions, what would he be like?

For whatever reason, my heart beats loudly in my ears.

I want to see his body dyed with all sorts of human emotions.

Suddenly, I feel like the days after this will be far more exciting.

I hold out my little finger towards Lucien.

MC: Since we’ve made a promise, let’s link fingers!

He looks down curiously for a moment, and links his pinky with mine.

Lucien: Mmm. It’s a promise.

Two linked pinkies, a silent vow. Lucien’s eyes curve into crescent moons as he smiles at me.

Lucien: From today on, you are to stay by my side at all times, and never be more than a step away from me.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc lucien #redqueenschoice translated this

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reinosaurs · 4 years

Text

Encounter - Part 3 (A KoiTsudu Fanfic)

*drum roll* Here's the last part! (ﾉﾟ0ﾟ)ﾉ~

...continuation.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

This is not what she planned to happen.

Ayumi stood frozen at her bed as she stared down at Nanase. When she saw the blood coming from her back and trickled a steady stream from her mouth, she frantically ran and kneeled towards her.

These amount of blood...

No...

What have I just done?!

"N-Nanase-chan!"

She was trembling. Her mind was going blank. She doesn't know what to do!

She stood up from the ground and immediately press the emergecy button near her bed. She frantically pushed the button again and again. "H-Help... Please, help!!!"

Nanase tried to breath against the pain but the more she breath the more it hurts. She wanted to scream but she was too weak. Tears started to fall from her eyes.

"Why aren't anyone coming?!" Ayumi shouted out loud and began to punch the emergency button. She remembered her conversation with Kairi and it almost made her weak.

"Nanase is special to me. She's important that I'm willing to do everything for her. I... I cannot afford to lose her."

Ayumi shook her head rapidly as she stared at Nanase in horror.

Meanwhile, Nanase vision started to blurr. She tried moving her body but the pain worsened. It's excruciatingly painful, she almost wanted to throw up.

Ayumi drop her knees beside Nanase. "Nanase-chan... please..." She burst out crying as she clutched her hair tight. "Kairi... Kairi! Help!"

She frantically stood up and almost stumbled as she ran towards the door. "Help! Please! Someone!"

Ayumi sobbed harder as she dropped her trembling knees on the ground in the middle of the hallway. "Kairi!"

•

It was ten in the morning and Tendo felt like he had been working all day. His muscles are aching so bad. His head was also throbbing wild and his arms felt so stiff.

He had been busier than ever since Ayumi was admitted.

Ayumi... it has been years since they see each other. She's still the same. Her antics, her gestured... even the way she talks. He must admit, he really did miss her. Seeing her made him remember all the precious memories from their young and innocent days.

But, this morning, Ayumi called him and unexpectedly confessed her feelings for him.

Tendo sighed.

He didn't expect that at all. But if you were to think those dark times when they both had each other, there is a big possibility that she became so fond of him.

Ayumi is a lonely person but an independent and brave one. He was impressed.

But he cannot return her feelings. She was special to him and is also one of the most important person in his life but he could only give a gift of undending frienship.

"I know... I know right from the start the it is impossble for you to see me as a woman. I'm only jist a friend to you. I expected that. But, hearing it from you personally hurts more than I've imagined."

"I saw you fell down when Minori-san passed away. You looked so lost like you don't have any reasons ti live anymore. You looked like you died with her. And I don't want that. I want ti make you happy again! I worked hard, took care of myself more just to see you. Kairi, I don't care if my illness wont be cured. I just want to be with you!"

Hearing those lines from her made him happy and sad at the same time. Why would she waste her life for someone like him?

Made him... happy?

"Sensei, I will make you smile!"

He unconciously grinned. When it comes to happiness, that girl always popped into his mind.

Ayumi... I'm sorry. But, I'm happier more than ever.

He should've explained it more to her. And that would be for later..

Tendo stopped on his spot when he saw the red alarm form the monitor near the clock. Ayumi's name was highlighted and the word "emergency" is flashing.

Within just a second, Kairi ran fast as he could. People from the hallways gave way as he ran like a mad man.

"Tendo-sensei!" Sakai called out to him.

"Where's Nanase?"

"I can't find her, Sensei. I don't know where she went."

"Very well, replace her for awhile. VIP room number 14. Emergency. Quick!"

"Hai!"

They frantically ran towards the VIP rooms. Tendo's mind is a chaos. What could've happened? I told her to take everything easy! Was she affected by it so much? If something happens to Ayumi, he would never forgive himself. He couldn't lose another loved one.

"Kairi!"

Tendo stopped walking when he saw Ayumi on the floor. She was crying and sobbing hard. He walk faster towards her and noticed her bloodied hands.

"Ayumi... what happened?!" He kneeled infront of her

"I-I'm sorry! It was--I didn't mean it, I just--that was an accident! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, Kairi!"

"What are you talking about---"

"Sakura-san!"

Tendo froze from his spot when he heard Sakai inside the room.

Ayumi shook his frozen shoulders. "Kairi! It's Nanase-chan! She needs help!"

Tendo ran inside the room, almost throwing the expensive door from its hinges. He can feel the loud pounding on his chest. When he saw Nanase lying on the ground, his eyes widened.

Nanase!

"Sakura-san? Sakura-san? Can you hear me? Sakura-san?" Sakai tried her best to be calm but she can't stop her trembling hands.

Tendo ran and dropped his knees on the ground. Fear and dread filled him when he saw the amount of blood pooling from her back.

"Nanase.. Nanase! Open your eyes!"

Sakai ran outside to get a stretcher as Tendo examined her wounds. She coughed out blood. The shattered pieces of vase obviously penetrated her flesh and if things are worse, this could damage her lungs.

Nanase groaned in pain.

"Nanase? Can you hear me?"

"S-Sensei..."

"Don't talk. Try not to sleep." He gripped her hand. "Stay with me, okay?"

Sakai came back with the other nurses. They quickly but gently lift Nanase from the ground and placed her on the stretcher with her back facing the ceiling. A huge piece of shattered vase was deeply embbeded in her back as her blood continued to flow.

In a flash, they reached the emergency room and started to work.

"Tendo-sensei, her blood pressure is decreasing."

"She's loosing too much blood "

"Sakura-san, can you hear me? Sakura-san?"

They injected her with anestesia and began removing the sharp piece of vase. The blood flows from her wound like a river and Tendo pressed both of his palms on her wound to apply pressure.

Nanase's body slackened and fell unconscious.

•

Ayumi's tears were endless. She stared at the window beside her bed. It has been hours and there isn't a single news about Nanase's condition. The hospital is unusually quiet and she doesn't like it. She can't sleep and she doesn't feel like eating at all.

Please... let her be okay....

The door suddenly opened and she jolted from her bed. When she saw Tendo walking towards her, another batch if tears streamed down her face.

Tendo sat beside her and gently smiled. She can tell how tired those eyes as he hid it with that smile. "How are you? You're not hurt, aren't you? Did you already eat?"

She almost burst into tears.

"Kairi... I'm so sorry!" She buried her face in her palms. "I accidentally pushed her on the floor! Insaw how the shattered vase pierced her skin. I didn't mean it! I was just planning to talk to her!" She sobbed loudy.

"She was so kind. Her words affect me so much but I... I... I'm so stupid! I can't control my emotions at all! This is all my fault!"

Tendo engulfed the girl into his arms.

"I'm so sorry!"

"Ayumi," He patted her back. "Nanase is on a stable conditon now. She lost too much blood and her body is still weak. But if she could talk to you right now, she wouldn't like the way you blame yourself." He pulled away from the hug and pat her head. "I'm not blaming you. I know you wouldn't do such things. I know you more than anyone."

"She's my warrior. She will fight this." Tendo smiled.

Ayumi stared at Tendo's smilling face.

This expression...

She never saw this expression from him.

Full of hope... happiness... love...

Ah. That's right. This is...

Ayumi smiled and wiped her tears away. "Kairi, I must say I was really hurt when you rejected me. I want to be the one who will make you happy again. But now, I think..." She pat Tendo's head. "I realized... I'm not fated to do that."

Seeing that smile. That smile. She can't explain it but it has a different kind of brightness.

Nanase-chan... thank you.

•

"What? She left already?!"

Tendo nodded. "Yes and can you please calm down? The stitches will reopen again. Do you know how many bags of blood was transfered to you?"

Nanase pouted. "But I wasn't finish talking to her!"

Tendo sighed and moved towards her bed. He sat beside her and kissed her forehead. "I know, but she's okay. Trust me, before she left the hospital, I made eveything clear. She understood."

Leaning closer to him, Nanase dropped her head on his shoulder. "How about her condition?"

Tendo kissed her head. "She transferred to Tendo General Hospital."

"Y-You mean..."

He nodded. "Yes. And I'm sure she will be taken a good care."

Nanase smiled. Actually, she received Ayumi's letter when she wake up and it made her happy. Especially the last part of her letter...

"Nanase-chan, thank you and I'm really sorry. Please, keep that brightness in you. Thank you for making Kairi happy again. I hope we meet again in the future."

"Now, let's go back to sleep."

"Eh? But I slept all day and you have meetings!"

"They can start without me."

"But meetings are important, sensei!"

"And you're not?"

"....."

"I made you blush."

"Sensei!"

"What? Just shut up and let me sleep "

"But---"

"Shut up or I'll kiss you."

Nanase leaned forward and captured his lips.

Tendo stilled and stared at her.

She smirked. "Got you."

He blinked. "You--!" Reaching out, he grabbed the back of her head gently and kissed her deep.

"Sensei! I'm wounded!"

"Wounded but still can kiss."

"Well.. I won't argue with that."

She kissed him back.

~end.

#koi wa tsuzuku yo dokomademo #koitsudu #an incurable case of love #love last forever #lovelastsforever #nanase sakura #kairi tendo #fanfic #fanfiction #encounter part 3

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xxpadfootxx · 4 years

Note

Request: IzuOcha, Izuku listening to Ochako's heartbeat

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! This request was so adorable, I squealed when I saw it. I’m sorry it took me a bit to write, I’ve been busy with my classes so I had to write it in fragments 😂. Anyway, here you go! I hope you enjoy!

~~~

🐾 Drumming Song 🐾

Ochako turned at the sound of her front door being opened, her face breaking into a smile at the thought of her husband finally getting home from work. That is, until she saw his face. Ochako immediately grew concerned at the sight of Izuku Midoriya, her best friend and husband, swaying slightly on his feet, his eyes downcast and his head down, his hair falling into his face. Ochako allowed her gaze to scan over the rest of his body, taking in the drying blood and torn fabric of his hero costume, her alarm increasing the longer she looked.

“Izuku!” Ochako cried, abandoning the dinner she was making for the both of them at the island and rushing over to him, her eyes wide and her hands frantic as she ran them all over him, checking for injuries. “What happened!?”

Ochako and Izuku worked at different hero agencies. Usually, the famous power couple was still able to work together, often coordinating their schedules so they could patrol and fight villains together, protecting one another as well as they possibly could under the circumstances. But sometimes their schedules couldn’t be matched up, something that had occurred this time. Ochako had been given a rare day off by her boss, Gunhead, who was giving her a reward for working so hard, claiming she needed some well-deserved rest. Unfortunately, Izuku was not given the same luxury, a fact that resulted in Izuku leaving for work without Ochako for the first time in several months.

“Rough day,” Izuku mumbled in response to Ochako’s question, not moving as she ran her hands all over him. Her touch was gentle and almost reverent as she glided her fingertips over his chest and arms, eventually sliding down to her knees to check his legs.

Gods he was so tired. He wanted to be able to talk and laugh with his wife like usual, eating a delicious dinner as they talked about arbitrary things. He wanted to cuddle up with her while they watched a movie together, either laughing at the cheesiness of it or clutching each other in fear, wrapped up in blankets while they watched a horror film. He wanted to make her feel good, joke around with her like he always did and show her how much he cared, after all she did for him, it was the least he could do as her adoring husband. But he was so goddamn exhausted. His body felt drained, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the day’s events.

It was supposed to be a normal day, easy patrols, light paperwork, just simple things to keep the heroes sharp and remind the villains that they were prepared to keep this city safe at all costs. Izuku had even planned to surprise Ochako by coming home early, finishing up all of his reports quicker than usual before going on one last patrol through the city.

Everything had gone to hell in the blink of an eye. Izuku hadn’t even known where the villain had come from, the mad woman flying out in front of him before he could even process she was there. Buildings had been blown apart, traffic had come to a screeching halt, the screaming had begun. It was all so shocking and overwhelming. Izuku had tried to keep up with the chaos but it had been so hard, working on his own to detain the villain and protect the people around him for several minutes while he waited for the other pro heroes to arrive.

The villain had been absolutely insane, her quirk something of god-like proportions as she terrorized the main square, tearing apart the sides of buildings as if they were nothing but paper, the wild gleam in her eyes making Izuku’s blood run cold as she tore through the city. They had eventually been successful in capturing the villain when the other pros had shown up, locking her away in a specially designed carrier to take her to a holding cell far away from the main city.

Izuku was relieved the villain had been caught, but the fight had been so draining, so destructive, to the point where Izuku had felt like collapsing afterwards. If that wasn’t bad enough, Izuku found out that eight citizens lost their lives in the attack, each one of their deaths feeling like another stab wound to his heart. He lived for protecting people, it was his job. Buildings could be rebuilt, cars could be reissued, objects could be replaced, but human lives could not be brought back. Izuku felt so hopeless, so fucking useless, he wanted to cry.

Izuku was brought back to reality when Ochako stood back up from where she had been examining his legs for injury, her face glowing with love and concern for him. His heart clenched. Even after all of these years, he still felt so undeserving of her love, of that look on her face directed at him, but she had refused to listen when he told her those things, claiming he more than earned his place in her heart. As he thought back to the fight, those negative thoughts came flooding back, filling his brain until he could think of nothing else, his heart filled with loathing for himself.

Izuku met Ochako’s gaze when her hand gently lifted his chin to look him in the eye, and he knew that even though he tried to shutter the emotions raging in his heart, she could read him like an open book. Her eyes were swimming with remorse as she read his face, her own heart reaching out to him.

Ochako knew Izuku was struggling. She had no idea what had happened while he was at work, she hadn’t had time to keep track on the TV like she usually did, too busy cleaning the house and doing some reports from home to pay attention to the news, but she knew her husband well enough to know that he was really struggling. Sighing, Ochako leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into her chest as she gently ran her fingertips down his spine, her nails lightly scraping him through his shirt.

“I’ve got you.”

Izuku shuddered, both at the feeling of her wrapped around him and her words, her sweet whisper tickling his ear. Tears sprang up in his eyes, a few sliding down his cheeks and landing on her neck as he nuzzled her throat, trying to thank her wordlessly since his throat was too closed up to speak properly.

They remained locked together, gently swaying in the kitchen for a long moment, until Ochako pulled back, her hand finding his as she maintained eye contact with him, making sure he didn’t fall down into the pit of self loathing again.

“Come on,” Ochako murmured, tugging him along.

Izuku didn’t have the strength to resist even if he wanted to, his feet shuffling as he followed dutifully behind her, his fingers still linked with hers. Ochako led them to their bedroom, pulling Izuku with her until she reached the edge of their bed, before leaning down and gently stripping him of his filthy hero costume until he was in nothing but his boxers. He groaned a little at the feeling of the disgusting material being peeled from his body, his eyes following her movements as she tossed the costume to the side to be dealt with later. Ochako then gently pushed him onto the bed, laying him down against the pillows. Dinner completely forgotten, Ochako moved around to lay down beside him, her arms reaching around to embrace him once more.

Izuku didn’t hesitate to cuddle into her warmth, burying his face in her chest, nuzzling her until he got comfortable and settled down, his ear pressed against her sternum.

Lub-dub... Lub-dub... Lub-dub…

Izuku took a shuddering breath at the sound of her loud heart, beating just for him, clear and healthy against his ear. He closed his eyes as he felt her fingers begin to card through his hair, a soft groan slipping from between his lips at the feeling.

Lub-dub... Lub-dub... Lub-dub…

Her heart played like a drum for him, filling him with relief and joy despite his difficult day, a clear, joyful reminder that his beloved was alive and right beside him, ready to comfort him just as he did for her when her days got hard. Gods, he loved this woman. He couldn’t get enough of her as he pressed even harder into her chest, his breathing starting to slow down, her heartbeat the best kind of lullaby to lull him to sleep.

Lub-dub... Lub-dub... Lub-dub…

“Ochako?”

“Yes, ‘Zuku?”

“Never leave me, please.”

Lub-dub... Lub-dub... Lub-dub…

Ochako smiled sadly down at her husband, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Never.”

Izuku’s arms slithered around her form and squeezed her tight as he listened to her heartbeat. He heard it speed up slightly at his touch, making him smirk a little, and causing his own heart to flutter. He would never get tired of knowing how much she was affected by him, that she wanted and loved him as much as he wanted and loved her. She was just so perfect.

Lub-dub... Lub-dub... Lub-dub…

More tears slid down his cheeks but for entirely different reasons as the beating drum in her chest vibrated throughout his whole being, healing his own heart and soothing his troubled mind. Ochako sighed softly when Izuku pressed a kiss to her chest, just below her collarbone, his eyes opening groggily to meet her gaze, watching her as he pressed another kiss, just above where he knew her heart was, the steady thumping picking up the pace once more.

“Thank you,” Izuku said softly, holding her somehow closer and resting his head back on her chest, sighing in bliss as his body finally relaxed, his muscles unwinding as he breathed in her unique scent.

“Always, Izuku,” Ochako said quietly, her eyes closing as she relaxed against the pillows, his warm breath fanning out across her neck and and the comfortable weight of his body pressing against hers lulling her to sleep.

“I love you, you’re too good to me,” Izuku mumbled against her.

Ochako let out a tired chuckle.

“Ditto, Izuku. I love you so much. Now, sleep.”

Izuku sighed and immediately felt his body respond to her words, his consciousness slipping from his grasp like water running through his fingers. But even as the world went black and he lost all sense of the things around him, Izuku could still hear, still feel Ochako’s heart, thumping steadily against him, playing him his favorite song to soothe him from the horrors of the day.

Lub-dub... Lub-dub... Lub-dub…

Ochako was his, and Izuku was hers, his heart pounding just as loudly to match hers, chanting her name and beating for her just as hers did, answering her own calls to him. She was his salvation, and his thumping heart, fueled by his love for her, was a testament to that.

Ochako fell asleep shortly after her husband did, both of their bodies completely relaxed and curled around each other as they sought solace from each other, their hearts beating as one.

#mha fanfiction #mha #bnha fanfiction #bnha #izuku x uraraka #ochako x izuku #izuku midoriya #urakara ochako #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia #request

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whumpywhumper · 5 years

Text

Oryn--Part 5

This one is a little heavier on the “world-building” side than the whump but I’m using this one for the “Fevers” slot on my @badthingshappenbingo card

Thanks @0idril0 for looking this over for the eternity that this has been on my computer. Red is completed, yellow is requested, and green has an idea--I need some more requests!

Link to previous parts: Part One, Two, Three, and Four

Tagging the people who seemed interested in Oryn: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @fallingstormphoenix @whumpitywhumpwhump @wildfaewhump @whumping-every-day @imagination1reality0 @voidwhump

***

Galen rustled through his bag, pulling bottles out of it and looking at labels. "I think we're going to need to keep a closer eye on this one," he murmured.

The "one" in question was finally asleep, his whistling breaths drawn through dry and cracked lips. Emrik continued combing through the black, greasy locks under his hand. The Fae needed all of the comfort that he could get. "I think that would be a good idea," he pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a dry chuckle. "That probably took more than a few years off of all of our lives."

The older man gave a sardonic smile, "An understatement."

Their sleeping charge moaned quietly, and Emrik turn back to him. His face was lax in sleep, the only evidence of pain a small line between his dark brows, just under the cool cloth on his forehead. Sleep changed the Fae’s face from the terrified and pain filled mask that he had first seen. Emrik didn’t think he would ever forget the stark terror in those yellow eyes or the way he had called out for his goddess.

Now, he looked so young. Young and war torn—a mass of bruises, stitches, and broken bones. Emrik sighed and flipped the cloth to the cool side. He felt a tug on the tattered remains of the dyät knot and nudged back with gentle reassurance, “It’s alright, shhh.” He brushed through the dark hair again before disentangling the knot and releasing the magic. A shudder rolled through him at the release, and he sighed in relief.

Galen gave him a concerned look at the noise, "Are you going to be alright? You don’t normally seem to strain like that."

"I don’t normally have to strain like that,” he muttered, giving the sleeping Fae a considering look. “I'll be fine. I'm just glad I waited until he let me, and I didn't try to force the knot on him."

The human cocked his head at him with confusion, hands stilling, “You know I don’t know magic, especially your magic, what do you mean?”

“I mean if I had tried to force him, I wouldn’t have had the power to follow through.” A shrug, “Would’ve knocked me out of commission for a few days, trying to battle it out with him.”

A frown, "I've never heard you put it that way before, lad. Usually, you just do it and everything is fine."

"Usually, our patients are human," Emrik leaned forward in the chair that he had drug to the bedside, "or lesser seelie. Greater seelie are a whole new game, their grasp of magic is unparalleled. Their access to the weave of lei lines in the world is literally a part of their body, like an extra organ." He sighed and shrugged, "I don't understand all of it. I just know my magic cannot trump his. You humans have found ways around it," he tapped at the cuffs around their poor charge's wrist with a dark look, "for certain things. But I can't."

Galen gave an equally dark look at the cuffs and collar. “Guess I’ll take your word for it then.” He came over with his bag and pulled the blankets back from his charge’s chest. Black bruises crawled up his sides, equally matched by red welts and stitched cuts. The tube, made from the hollow roots of an astor plant, in the Fae's chest wall had been quickly stitched in place, held against his side with blood tacky bandages and lead down to a glass bottle on the floor.

His hands were gentle as they could be, but the Fae whimpered as the older man searched for air pockets or other injuries from his fall. “I know, I know, pup, it hurts.” Galen’s voice held a comforting baritone gravel that settled their charge, his weak breaths smoothing into a softer rhythm.

Emrik shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “You said Melisandra is coming in the morning, right?”

“Mmmhm, why?”

“I think she speaks better Saethe than I do, she might be able to talk to him if he wakes up again. He seemed to respond to some of what we said, but I don’t know how well he understands us. Even if he understands us, I don’t know how well he would speak Common.”

Galen grimaced. “He knows the words ‘please’ and ‘no more’, I can tell you that. He woke up for a few minutes earlier tonight, begged me not to hurt him.”

“They really did a number on him,” Emrik murmured. He shook his head again, pushing away the melancholy as he stood. “He’s stubborn, hopefully stubborn enough to recover from this. I’m going to go and get you more water.”

“Thanks.”

***

Oryn woke to the low murmur of voices nearby. There was a cold wet weight over his eyes and arms that caused him to shiver weakly. His bones ached and the slight weight that covered him was too much. It hurt, everything hurt, and he couldn’t stop the quiet whimper that pushed through his chapped lips. The voices near him quieted, and he did his best to breathe normally through his fear and confusion. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew that the people in the room weren’t actively hurting him. That could change quickly if they knew that he was awake.

A cool slender hand pressed against his hot cheek, and the Fae flinched, automatically turning his head away, a burbled moan caught in his throat at the spike of pain through his spine. The wet weight—a towel?— slipped from one of his eyes, but he kept it closed.

“He is so warm,” an accented feminine voice whispered, not appearing to notice that he was awake as the towel was eased back over his eye. “How long has his fever been like this?”

“The fever started last night,” a gruff vaguely familiar grumble answered, near his hip, “it’s still climbing. Emrik and I are doing everything we can for it, but it’s up to him now.”

The woman hummed, slender fingers pressing over the wet towel, making cold drops of water track down past his ears. “Did he wake at all?”

A choked laugh, and he heard the rasp as the man ran his hand over his beard. “For a few minutes. By Tala, he was so scared.” The gruff voice faltered, and he cleared his throat. “The pup toppled off the bed when I went to get water for the fever and split some of his stitches open falling on the floor. Punctured his damn lung. Poor Emrik had to help me calm him.”

”I saw Emrik when I came in, he’s dead asleep in your foyer.” The woman’s light touch moved across his forehead and carded through Oryn’s still matted hair, catching on the tangles and knots. His fevered skin ached where her fingers touched, hypersensitive to the pull of his hair against his scalp, and he couldn’t suppress the hitch in his breath.

“Hmph, he said he used a lot of his reserves last night, tried to explain some of the magic to me. Not that I understood it. Meli, I know Emrik is exhausted, but is there anything you can do?”

Fevered confusion clouded the injured Fae’s thoughts. What?

“I don’t think so, Galen. Our magic doesn’t work the same with them. I haven’t figured out why yet.” The woman‘s chair skittered over the floor as she stood. “Even if he was human, he is very weak right now. I don’t know that he would survive my attempts at healing.”

“That’s basically what Emrik said,” a thick fingered hand took Oryn’s limp one and covered his swollen fingers with a warm, rough palm. Oryn’s fingers twitched around the larger hand, the hard splints under the manacles causing a twinge through his arm, and the stranger smoothed over them with a soft murmur. “He’s been tortured to within an inch of his life, Meli. Where did your men say they found him?”

Her men? Who were these people? Were they Soren’s friends? A dim memory of yelling men with authority in their voices welled up, but it was too tenuous to grasp and examine.

A quiet rustle of papers across the room marked the woman’s location. “Soren’s, apparently he was searching for some seelie runaways. You know about his fascination with their magic.”

Oryn felt his insides throb at actually hearing Soren’s name, a sharp inhalation making his ribs tug painfully, and an insistent voice started up in the back of his mind. They’re Soren’s friends. They’re going to hurt me too. They’re just waiting for Soren to come back.

He barely noticed the other’s fingers stilling over his own. “Run aways?” the questioned response stressed the plural. “By Tala, will he never learn? Someone needs to teach him there is a reason that the seelie are illegal to own. He is going to cause another war.”

A sharp sigh. “I’m not sure he hasn’t. The run aways were, apparently, on the border of the Leander Ridge when this one was captured. I don’t think the Queen’s forces were able to find the others after we got our report from Soren’s informant.”

Oryn felt his heart start to drum against his ribs, a spike of dread lancing through his gut. They were hunting the other seelie too. That’s why they were treating him, because Soren hadn’t gotten the information from him.

She continued with an ironic lilt to her voice that made Oryn tense further. “Besides, and I have no idea how he did it, but this little pup killed him as my Inquisitors broke the door down. So I guess we don’t have to worry about teaching Soren any lessons in the the future.”

“I’m sorry, he what?!” Shock colored the male’s voice as Oryn’s hand was placed back on the covers.

The Fae felt a wave of alarmed confusion start to roil and churn within him. Dead? A fog of pained memory boiled up, the sharp press of a knife against his abdomen, a brief, sweet flash of hope. But nothing else. He killed Soren?

Meli laughed as she answered, and the Fae’s frantic mind turned it into a sharp, cacophic peel of noise. “You heard me, Galen. Soren cracked his head on the floor, and it turned his brain to jelly. The only reason I know it was your dark haired charge, and not some sort of freak stroke, is that one of the lesser seelies could feel the knot.”

“But, how? This has to be one of the most magically restrained seelie I’ve ever come across, how did he even manage to scrape together the magic to form a knot?”

“I’m not—“ she cut herself off and there was the soft slip of fabric against fabric. Oryn felt the woman’s presence leaning over him again before there were slender fingers at his throat, over his collar, over the pounding pulse in his throat. “Galen,” she murmured, softly, “I think he’s awake.”

Oryn’s chest hurt, and he realized he’d forgotten to control his breathing, small wheezes for air making his broken ribs scream with pain. Panic flared, and he choked on a whimper when he sensed the male leaning over him as well, the masculine presence strong and looming. Celünie, please. Please, don’t hurt me. Soren was going to hurt the boy. He was so young. Please.

“Oh, lad,” Galen murmured, “shhhh, easy, it’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. Oryn didn’t know who these people were, and they were touching him, and he didn’t feel good, and everything hurt. He gave up playing at sleep and tipped his head back into the pillow, shifting, gasping as a throbs of pain pounded through him. Wanting to get away from the hand at his throat, the potential punishment. He tried to move his legs, needed to flee, but he moaned weakly when a jolt of pain crashed through his body like lightning. Traveling from the broken bones and into the shorn muscles in his abdomen.

“Shhh, myonik, shhhh,” the woman soothed in Sæthe, “we are not going to hurt you.” Her fingers moved from his throat to brush against his hair in a deceptively gentle caress, another hand trying to cup his cheek.

Oryn didn’t believe her. Didn’t believe any of these humans with their promises and gentle hands. They’d been gentle before too. But he’d killed Soren, and they wanted to punish him. Hurt him. Make him scream.

His body was so heavy, and it was agony to move, every tiny muscle contraction telling him to stay still. But he didn’t want them to touch him. The damp cloth slid off of his face when he shook his head, rejecting the hand against his cheek, dull pounding starting up behind his eyes. The heat of the fever flared without the coolness of the cloth, and he whined, eyelids sliding open to search the blurry shapes over him.

Two people hovered, the bright light making them dark, indistinguishable shadows to the brightness of the room. He flinched back with a tight gasp of air, trying to raise his arms in a defensive posture, but the heavy appendages were easily caught in strong hands. His wrists throbbed even in the light grip, and the square, broad hands controlled him without any trouble. Ignoring his whimpers of protest, the man crossed his wrists across his stomach so that Oryn could be pressed back into the mattress by his other hand.

“Don’t move, lad,” Galen ordered, false kindness in his voice, “you’re very sick and very hurt. You need to stay still.”

Oryn’s struggles weakened, and he shuddered, the fear of disobeying overcoming his trembling limbs. His tongue was heavy and unwieldy in his mouth, but he swallowed thickly, trying to force his eyes to focus. “Dä. . . därog. . .il. . .il a. . . “ His voice was a hoarse, thin rasp that wavered on the plea, and his dry throat closed on any additional words as he panted for air.

“Shhh, be calm,” the woman said in Saethe, the lilt of his native tongue falling easily from her lips. The woman leaned further in, the hand in his hair sliding back to cradle his head as a cup was placed against his lips. “Drink, myonik.” Her angular face finally came in to focus, but her expression was unreadable to the exhausted Fae.

Blinking his gritty eyes fitfully, Oryn turned away from the sloshing liquid in the cup, an incoherent croak all he could manage. His throat was so dry, but these humans would hurt him, wanted to punish him for Soren. Wanted to know where his friends went. He didn’t know what was in the cup. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want it.

He couldn’t stop the hiccuping sob that slid out of his mouth as he squeezed his eyes closed. Please, I don’t want it.

“Shh, shh, shh, okay, okay.” The cup left his lips, and he sobbed harder when something skimmed across his cheek softly. “I know you’re scared, shhhh, it’s okay.”

“Oh pup, don’t cry.” Galen’s hands softened their restraining grip, his thumbs rubbing circles into his skin.

Oryn exhausted himself quickly, his breaths coming in hitching, shaky sobs and gasps as the woman continued carding through his hair, murmuring softly. “You aren’t going to be hurt, I promise. You’re being taken care of; you’re safe, now. Shhh.” His eyelids fluttered weakly, unable to fully unshutter themselves, and he swallowed past the dryness in his mouth.

“This is just water, we aren’t going to hurt you, but you need to drink, little one.” The woman raised his head again as she pressed the cup back to his mouth, and Oryn couldn’t fight against the cool liquid as it poured past his chapped lips. Pure, sweet water touched his tongue, and it soaked it up like a sponge in the desert. Swallowing fitfully, he sighed as the water soothed his parched throat, and she helped him drink until she pulled the cup away.

The Fae was drifting on fatigue, the rattle of things in the room making him jerk and whine, as the woman lowered his head back down. “Galen, is that too much water?”

“That should be enough for now,” Galen murmured, making Oryn shudder as new cool rags were drawn down his arms and across his neck. “He needs all of the fluids he can get, but we can’t have him drinking too fast.”

“Okay. . . “ Fingers carded through his hair again before she continued in Saethe, “Sleep now, myonik, we will talk when you feel better.”

Oryn whimpered, head ticking to the side as he forced himself to stay awake. He wanted to explain, maybe they’d have mercy if he explained. “D’rog. . . “ he slurred, wavering “. . .S’ren. . .”

“Hush, you don’t have to worry about Soren. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you here. Sleep.”

The Fae did the only thing he could and obeyed, dark completely overtaking him.

#Oryn #Fae #Galen #Emrik #MY OCs #My writing #whump #some worldbuilding #fever #confusion #weak #bad things happen bingo #aftermath of torture

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crossbowking · 5 years

Text

The Road Ahead : Chapter 18

Chapter Index HERE

Summary : (Set in the beginning of season 1) Anna Brooks lost everything after the world ended — the last remaining part of herself being her older brother, who she lost contact with after communications dropped. While en route towards Atlanta to find him, Anna’s truck breaks down, leaving her at the mercy of the cruel new world. Now, Anna must face her fears head on as she struggles to deal with devastating loss, constant danger, and finding her way in a land that now belongs to the dead. But sometimes, a glimmer of hope can be found disguised as a short-tempered, hard-headed redneck who may just save her life in more ways than one.

Pairings : Daryl x Original Female Character

Warnings : Slow-Burn, Language/Violence/typical Walking Dead themes

Author’s Note : Oh. Hi. *crickets*

I KNOW I HAVEN’T UPDATED IN MONTHS. LITERAL MONTHS. I’M SORRY. BUT THIS WRITING SHIT IS LIKE...HARD. I hope y’all remember wtf has happened in this story because I had to go back and reread because I was LOST. So hopefully this shit makes sense. (I’ll insert a recap to refresh everyone’s memory.)

I’m sorry. I’m gonna go hide in the corner now.

Shoutout to @wilhelmjfink for creating the awesome cover pic for this series! Love you bb.

THIS CHAPTER IS DARYL’S POV, ALSO.

Okay, that is all.

xx crossbowking

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Recap...

- Anna was attacked by Merle (hopped up on coke, mind you) en route towards Atlanta in search of her brother, Ben. Their parents died at some point during the journey and Anna now wears their wedding rings on a chain around her neck.

- Daryl swoops in and saves Anna from Merle, fixes her truck, and they have a moment *swoon*. He offers her a place in his group but she declines, putting her family first and continuing for Atlanta (even though he already told her the city was destroyed).

- Anna spends the night in a shitty gas station market, has a flashback of her childhood/a sneak peek into her relationship with Ben, and cries herself to sleep *aw bb, it’s ok*.

- The next day, Anna stumbles across a herd who traps her on the roof of the market...all hope seems lost. Until gunshots from the city draw some of the herd away *aka Rick escaping the tank*. A storm rolls in, providing the small amount of water Anna needs to make it to the city. A car alarm sounds from the city shortly after, drawing more of the herd away *hm...whoever could that be? Possibly a cutie patootie driving a red sports car?...*

- Anna makes her escape and continues for Atlanta. She parks her truck and makes the trek to her brother’s apartment with no trouble. Once there, she finds a walker trapped in his bathroom, but luckily, it’s not Ben. She finds a note from him addressed to her saying that he left for Fort Benning after the city was overrun. Anna stays the night and decides to try for the army base next.

- Anna scavenges the following day, gathers supplies and heads back to her truck before nightfall. She runs into Rick’s group (leaving the city after trying to find Merle) attempting to hotwire her truck, has a not so pleasant reunion with Daryl, but decides to drive the group back to their camp *she owes Daryl, give her a break*.

- They return as the camp is getting overrun by walkers. Anna helps defend the quarry and saves Carl, almost dies, but *dun dun dun* is saved by Daryl once more.

- Rick offers Anna a place in the group but she’s set on searching for her brother and heading to Fort Benning. She’s still unsure why Daryl is being so cold to her.

- Stays one more night with the group, contemplating next move. Daryl gives Anna his dinner after she gave Sophia hers, only furthering Anna’s confusion regarding the archer. *make up your damn mind, Dixon!*

- Anna decides to join the group to the CDC. If CDC is a dead end, Rick promises they will try for Benning.

- Daryl is being a jerk face again and Anna is #overhimandhisissues.

- They make it to the CDC, meet Edwin Jenner, and have an interesting dinner. *group finds out Anna’s mom had cancer, but ultimately died from a walker bite*

- Everyone gets drunk *ayeee gettin’ crunk*

- Anna and Glenn bond while everyone else turns in for the night *supposedly* and she finds out more about the archer/Merle/what happened in Atlanta the day she ran into them.

- She learns that Daryl and Merle got into a huge fight/brawl and is pretty sure she’s the reason it started. Realizes that Daryl is a moody lil’ bitch because he blames her for the way things ended with him and Merle/the fight they had/the mean things he said to his brother.

- Shane pops up outta nowhere, all sorts of fucked up, and basically attacks Anna because he’s a horny lil’ psychopath. Daryl hears the struggle and yet again, *shocker* saves Anna.

- Daryl stays in Anna’s room *cue awkward tension* and she spills out some sort of apology *which Daryl ignores* instead bringing up the fact that she didn’t find her brother. She shares the note she found/her plan to head for Fort Benning. Daryl is like “psh, ya ain’t gon’ make it, ya dumb ho” and Anna’s like “psh, you’re so fuckin’ rude omg” and Daryl storms out and Anna’s all like “JUST BC U GAVE UP ON UR BROTHER DOESN’T MEAN I’M GIVING UP ON MINE” and Daryl’s like “ow...dat’s some cold shit” and leaves.

- Anna can’t sleep because GUILT. Anywho, the next morning everyone has breakfast together, Shane apologizes to Anna/threatens her to keep her mouth shut in the same breath.

- Then, cue the group trapped in the CDC/building about to explode.

- Group gets out, Anna’s a dumb lil ho and runs back inside for her backpack *LEAVE HER ALONE SHE COULDN’T LEAVE THE PICTURE OF HER AND BEN/HIS NOTE TO HER BEHIND*

- Anna almost dies, but whoohoo, she lives! Daryl runs back into the field and carries her semi-unconscious form away from the wreckage.

There. Now everyone’s caught up.

AND...HERE WE GO.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previously…

Black spots suddenly danced in Anna’s vision, her stomach rolling, her body’s aches and pains dulling as her legs began to give out, unable to keep up with the archer’s determined pace. She squeezed her eyes shut, her drooping head lolling against Daryl’s shoulder as the world began to fade.

The last thing Anna felt was the archer sliding his arm up her back, slipping it around her shoulders instead as his other arm cupped behind her kneecaps, swiftly swooping her off the ground.

And then everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now...

The desolate road spilled out before the caravan of survivors, its winding roads and towering trees seemingly endless. Abandoned cars littered the sides of the road, some doors till strewn open, others covered in blood and grime. There wasn’t another soul in sight — it was as though the entire world had been completely wiped clean, forced to begin again from scratch.

The survivors traveled along cascading backroads, steering clear of highways and more populated areas as they navigated out of the city and into the rural countrysides of Georgia with no set destination in mind.

Daryl lost track of how long the group had been driving, the minutes and hours seeping into one another as the sun reached its highest peak and began its slow descent. His hand rested lazily atop the steering wheel, the other resting on his thigh, fingertips drumming anxiously against his knee.

His mind had been ticking nonstop since the group had escaped the Center for Disease Control. The explosion had drawn in a massive herd, bigger than any horde Daryl had ever seen before. There hadn’t been time to reconvene, to figure out a different course of action, to make sure —

A soft whimper suddenly drew Daryl’s attention to the passenger seat, his gaze settling on her.

Anna Brooks.

The archer sighed, pulling his eyes away from her sleeping form, focusing back on the road ahead. He rested his elbow against the doorframe, the side of his thumb finding a home nestled between his teeth. He gnawed absently on the side of his thumbnail, his thoughts refusing to settle, his nerves standing on end.

In the midst of all the chaos, during the group’s last ditch effort to escape the impending blast, Daryl hadn’t even realized that Anna was no longer with the group. His jaw clenched, the backs of his teeth gnashing together — how could he not have realized?

He could still feel that pit in his stomach, the feeling of dread that’d shot through him when he’d spotted her climbing out of the CDC after Dale and Andrea. It felt as though all the air had been sucked from his lungs, leaving him paralyzed, only able to sit and watch as she ran for her life — and there hadn’t been a damn thing he could do about it.

The explosion had drawn in the dead, giving him no time to make sure she was uninjured, to make sure she was okay. He didn’t think, he didn’t hesitate — he just ran back for her, the heat from the blast surging over his exposed flesh as he spotted her trapped beneath an unmoving walker, her hammer lodged in its skull.

Although she’d been disoriented when he’d found her, unsteady and dazed as he’d pulled her to her feet, the most important thing was that she was okay.

So he’d carried Anna’s weakened form back to his truck as she drifted in and out of consciousness. And when Lori emerged from the RV, frantically motioning for him to leave Anna with her and the others before they departed, he blatantly ignored the offer — he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, for some reason. He had to keep an eye on her, had to make sure she kept herself out of trouble. The damn woman had run back into an imploding building — who the hell knows what else she’d do?

No. No, he needed to keep an eye on her. He didn’t trust anyone else to keep her alive. That was what this boiled down to. He didn’t trust anyone else to —

Daryl clenched his jaw, grip tightening around the steering wheel as he forced himself to focus — to get a fucking grip. What the hell had gotten into him? This wasn’t who he was. This wasn’t what he did. Everything had been so simple before — before losing Merle, before the CDC, before he met her. Over the course of the last few days, Anna Brooks had somehow managed to worm her way into the forefronts of his mind, had crawled her way beneath his skin, and now he couldn’t seem to quiet the demanding need to keep her alive.

What the hell had gotten into him?

Daryl still thought about that day back on the road — the day he first met her. She’d seemed so vulnerable, so terrified — cowering beneath Merle’s grasp, his knife pressed against the hollow of her throat, a small trail of blood seeping from her pierced flesh. It wasn’t the first time he’d walked in on Merle tormenting some poor unsuspecting victim — but there’d been something different about her. The moment her big, brown eyes locked with his, he found himself intervening before he could think twice. There hadn’t been a moment of hesitation when he pointed his crossbow at his brother’s head — not even a flinch.

And that is what had freaked him out the most.

He sometimes wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten involved that day. What would’ve happened to Anna? How far would his brother have gone? Merle had been out of control that day — had been for a long time before that too. The drugs hadn’t helped either, instead heightening his already brusque demeanor.

Merle hadn’t cared about anyone or anything — Daryl wasn’t even sure if his brother ever really cared about him. He knew that Merle’s inevitable downfall would happen from his own recklessness, his own actions and choices, and he’d been trying to prepare himself for life without his brother for a long time coming.

But in all the various ways Daryl had pictured his final moments with Merle, what he hadn’t expected was for there to be a brutal fight, a harsh exchanging of words, and an overwhelming swell of guilt vast enough to swallow him whole.

And it all came to a head after that day on the road.

The day he met her.

Daryl stormed through the growing underbrush of vines and leaves, stepping over an exposed root as he pushed forward, driven solely by frustration. He heard a sudden thud behind him, followed by a string of muttered curses, but still pushed forward, ignoring the racket.

“Damn roots be poppin’ up outta nowhere, swear ta’ Christ,” Merle’s gravelly voice echoed from behind.

The archer glanced over his shoulder, spotting Merle kneeling on the forest floor, grunting as he pushed himself back onto his feet. But Daryl didn’t slow his pace, didn’t respond, didn’t offer to help — nothing. He didn’t trust himself not to snap right now, the anger coursing through him growing with each step he took closer to camp, further away from the scared girl with big brown eyes and a beaten down pickup truck.

Daryl gnashed his teeth together, grip tightening around his crossbow. What a shit-fucking-day it had been. He’d volunteered to go hunting, to try and rile up some food for the group waiting back at the quarry. But then Merle had decided to tag along last minute, his brother itching to be out in the wilderness, away from the cautious eyes that watched his every move back at camp.

And it had all gone downhill from there.

Merle’s boisterous persona had done an outstanding job in alerting every living and nonliving thing within a mile of their approach, leaving the pair empty-handed by the end of their long day. Daryl’s frustration had only grown with each hour that passed, the thought of coming home with nothing forming a pit in his gut. The brothers were already on thin ice with the group, one wrong move away from being kicked out on their asses — no thanks to Merle, he might add.

They’d scoured the vast forest, waded through the babbling creek just a few miles from camp, and even checked out a couple cottages and sheds they’d randomly stumbled upon — but there’d been nothing, everything within a five-mile radius seemingly wiped clean.

“Mind slowin’ your roll there, baby bro?” Merle called after him, his voice becoming more and more distant with the increasing space Daryl was putting between them. “Ain’t the athlete I used ta’ be,” he snarked lightly.

Daryl rolled his eyes, although Merle couldn’t see from where he trailed behind him.

“Hey, what’s the fuckin’ dealio?” Merle snapped, his footsteps quickening. “Ya ain’t still pissed at me, are ya?” he pressed, an incredulous laugh booming from deep within his gut. “Aw, c’mon, Darlina —”

“Hey!” Daryl snapped, halting abruptly and turning on his heels, coming face to face with Merle, who’d finally caught up to him. “Ya gonna draw in every walker around if ya don’t shut your damn trap,” he hissed, eyes narrowed into slits, Merle’s jeering expression only angering him further.

“Ah, let ‘em come!” he scoffed, holding his arms out at his sides. “We can take ‘em, you an’ I!” he continued, the volume of his words increasing, echoing throughout the otherwise silent forest.

Daryl huffed a breath, shooting his brother a look of contempt as he turned on his heel and stormed forward, leaving Merle behind once more.

“Hey, what’s got your panties all up in a twist, huh?” Merle mocked, catching up and falling in step beside the archer. “This ain’t ‘bout that skirt from earlier, is it?” he accused tauntingly.

Daryl stiffened, his body going rigid at the mention of the girl from the road, but he refused to give his brother the satisfaction of a response.

Yet somehow, Merle knew he’d struck a chord, a lopsided sneer coming over his face as he nudged Daryl in the ribs with his elbow. “C’mon, is that it?” he teased, snickering softly. “Ya pissed at ol’ Merle for layin’ claim on the bitch ‘fore ya had the chance? Ya see, I knew ya was —”

“I said shut up, Merle!” Daryl suddenly growled, turning to shove his brother to the side, coming to a swift halt. “This ain’t ‘bout the damn girl. It’s ‘bout how ya can’t keep ya damn mouth shut, alright? Ya scared off any decent game we might’ve found out here — an’ now we’re goin’ back ta’ those people with jackshit!” he snarled, standing toe to toe with his brother, fighting off the urge to smack that arrogant look off his face.

“An’?” Merle shot back simply.

Daryl faltered, brows furrowing. “An’ what?”

“An’ that ain’t our problem, brother,” he scowled, some of the humor fading from his expression. “Ain’t our responsibility ta’ make sure those pricks don’t go hungry, am I right?”

Daryl scoffed, his brother’s selfishness not surprising in the slightest. “Ya know, maybe if ya spent a lil’ more time with your head out a’ your ass, we wouldn’t be in this fuckin’ mess ta’ begin with,” he spat, turning on his heel once more.

“My head spends jus’ the right amount a’ time in my ass, thank ya very much.”

“That you or the drugs talkin’? Hard ta’ tell the damn difference these days,” Daryl shot back over his shoulder before pressing forward.

“Yeah, yeah,” Merle called after him, following suit. “It’s medicinal — doctor prescribed an’ all!” he snarked.

Daryl exhaled heavily, prayed for strength, and pushed onward, suddenly hearing the soft murmur of voices growing from the approaching camp. He quickened his pace, hoping to be able to sneak back into his tent before anyone noticed his return. But much to his surprise, when the trees parted and the quarry came into view, he spotted the entire group sitting around the unlit fire pit in hushed conversation, all heads turning his way as he appeared.

Daryl paused, eyeing the group warily, feeling a pinprick of guilt hit him when most of their gazes traveled from his face, down to his empty hands, their hopeful expressions falling. The buzzing conversation quieted, a tangible disappointment spreading throughout the group as they realized that there would be yet another meager meal for dinner that night. The archer clenched his jaw, lowering his gaze slightly, feeling uncomfortable with all the sudden attention on him.

“Y’all miss me?” Merle’s voice suddenly boomed, breaking the quiet. Daryl glanced up at the group once more, noticing how almost everyone began either rolling their eyes or turning their gazes away, one person audibly groaning. Merle let out a low whistle. “Tough fuckin’ crowd,” he murmured as he moved to stand beside the archer.

Daryl watched as Shane leaned over to whisper something in Lori’s ear before he pushed up from his chair beside her and made his way towards the brothers, rubbing a hand roughly through his tousled hair. “Nothin’?” the officer asked softly, placing his hands on his hips, directing his question towards Daryl.

The archer merely shook his head once, readjusting the crossbow slung over his shoulder.

Shane muttered a curse under his breath, staring off into the trees behind the brothers. “Y'all were out there all damn day an’ ya didn’t find nothin’?” he pressed, his expression tense.

“Ya got fuckin’ eyes, don’t ya? What’s it look like?” Merle snapped, taking a small step towards Shane, drawing the man’s attention away from Daryl. “Ya think ya can do any better, how’s ‘bout ya get off your lazy ass an’ get out there yourself, Officer Asswipe,” he bit out challengingly, puffing his chest slightly.

Shane scoffed and for a moment, Daryl thought he was about to start swinging. But instead, he just shot Merle a dirty look and turned away, making his way back to the fire pit where Lori and Carl sat.

Merle suddenly clamped his hand down on Daryl’s shoulder, leaning in close. “Ain’t our responsibility, brother,” he rasped once more, tightening his grip as he lowered his voice further. “Don’t be forgettin’ why we’re here in the first place — why we been playin’ ‘nicey-nice’ with these fine folks all this time,” he whispered darkly.

Daryl glanced at his brother, the dangerous sneer on his face unsettling. Without another word, Merle huffed a laugh, clapped Daryl roughly on the back and pushed past him, making his way towards his own rickety tent.

Daryl watched his brother walk away, feeling the weight of his words spread like fire through his veins — he hadn’t forgotten why they were there. How could he? It’d been the only thing he could think about since they’d joined the group.

Merle had come up with the idea — of course it’d been his idea. And Daryl had just…gone along with it. He hadn’t protested, hadn’t tried to talk him out of it. He hadn’t even put up a fight.

Did that make him just as horrible as his brother? Or worse?

Daryl scanned the camp, his eyes lingering for a moment towards where Carl and Sophia sat, tucked underneath their mother’s sides, eyes wide and innocent as they quietly listened to the resuming chatter. These were decent people — good people. And he and his brother were going to rob them blind come the following night, leaving them defenseless against the looming threat of the dead.

Daryl grimaced.

Worse. It definitely made him worse.

But then suddenly out of nowhere, images of the girl from earlier flashed through his mind and he stilled. He wasn’t sure why or how she’d weaseled her way into the forefronts of his thoughts, but before he knew it, there she was. He could picture the distrust marring her tense expression, the look only fading after he’d proven to her he meant no harm. He saw the light that’d rekindled in her tiresome eyes after he’d successfully fixed her broken-down truck, the way her smile brought life to her whole face. He remembered the way her gaze softened as she thanked him, politely turning down his offer to join the group back at the quarry.

He’d felt like he’d finally done some good, like he’d done something that actually mattered for once in his life.

That was the type of man he was. Not…not this. Not some sorry sack of shit, blindly following his big brother’s destructive footsteps. That wasn’t who he was. And that wasn’t who he was going to be, damn it.

Feeling a new sense of resolve wash over him, Daryl straightened up and marched forward, searching for where his brother had wandered off to. It only took a few seconds before he found his brother lounging in a picnic chair outside his ramshackle tent, sharpening his hunting knife as he whistled softly.

Daryl saw a flash of that same knife being held to the girl’s throat earlier, but quickly pushed the image away, it only fueling his anger.

Merle glanced up at Daryl’s approach, giving him a quick once-over before he focused back on his weapon.

Daryl cleared his throat quietly, scanning the area to make sure there were no wandering eyes, no potential eavesdroppers. “Hey, we need ta’ talk,” he murmured lowly.

“So, talk,” Merle shot back gruffly, taking a moment to observe the knife’s sharpened edge, using his thumbnail to test the blade.

Daryl huffed a breath, growing more and more impatient towards his brother’s indifferent attitude. He quickly surveyed the campgrounds once more, double checking that this would be a private conversation. When the coast seemed clear, the archer crouched down in front of Merle. “Shit don’t feel right, man,” he rumbled, giving his brother a pointed look.

Merle suddenly scoffed, the corner of his mouth raising into a smirk. “That kinda sounds like a ‘you’ sorta problem, don’t ya think?”

“Nah, ya ain’t listenin’ ta’ me,” Daryl growled, his frustration mounting as he shot up to his feet. “We can’t do this — it ain’t right. They’ve — they’ve got kids here, ya know?” he pressed quietly, urging his brother to see reason.

But Merle simply stiffened, tucking his blade back into the holster of his jeans, regarding Daryl silently for a long moment. “So?” he finally rasped, face set in a stony expression as he folded his hands in front of him.

“So?” Daryl shot back incredulously.

“Ain’t on us if those lil’ shits starve, now is it?” Merle shrugged carelessly, no trace of humor in his gaze anymore. “We ain’t their daddies, are we?”

Daryl faltered, his response not entirely surprising but it did little to soothe his ever-present hostility.

“Don’t matter none,” Merle continued when Daryl remained silent, a hint of a sneer creeping across his face. “Ain’t like those Rugrats gonna last long enough ta’ starve ta’ death anyways,” he jeered, leaning coolly back in his chair, shrugging nonchalantly.

And Daryl had heard enough. Talking his brother out of an idea was like talking to a brick-fucking-wall. Merle could do whatever the hell he wanted — Daryl would have no part in it. So instead of playing into his brother’s antics and giving him the reaction he was poking for, Daryl turned on his heel and stormed away, muttering harshly beneath his breath.

But he’d only made it a few feet before Merle’s rasping voice stopped him dead in his tracks. “Ya got somethin’ ta’ say ta’ me, ya best be sayin’ it ta’ my face, lil’ brother,” he suddenly hollered and Daryl could hear the growing impatience in his voice. It was then that he realized that his brother’s shout had silenced every other conversation spread out amongst the camp, all eyes suddenly ping-ponging between the two brothers apprehensively.

Daryl clenched his jaw, turning around to find his brother now standing upright, his arms held out at his sides, clearly attempting to provoke him. But the younger brother remained steadfast, biting his tongue as he shot his brother a dark look.

“It seems ta’ me ya got an awful lot ta’ say, so why don’t ya go on an’ share with these fine folks,” Merle continued, egging him on, the sudden attention only stroking his massive ego as he turned to address the entire group, as if putting on a show. “My baby brother ain’t a man a’ many words — I’m sure y’all have caught on by now,” he placed a hand mockingly over his heart. “But my oh my, sure looks like there’s jus’ somethin’ real important an’ all that he needs ta’ get off his chest. Somethin’ he’s jus’ dyin’ ta’ share with y’all,” he finished boldly, motioning for Daryl to take over, his eyes challenging. “So, c’mon then, brother. Share with the class.”

Daryl’s gaze narrowed, feeling his blood begin to boil as he shot daggers in Merle’s direction, moments away from losing his composure.

“Let’s jus’ take it easy, alright?” Shane suddenly intervened, coming to stand between the brothers, holding his hands out. “Let’s jus’ be adults here, now,” he hissed quietly, giving each a stern look. “No need for this.”

“That’s right, Officer,” Merle quirked a brow. “That is exactly right,” he rasped, his words holding a heavier meaning as he leveled Daryl’s stare coldly.

“Alright boys, put your rulers away,” Lori suddenly chastised, coming to stand beside Shane, arms crossed over her chest, expression stern. “You’re scarin’ the children, now. Let’s just — let’s just start gettin’ dinner ready, alright?” she urged softly, hoping the brothers would hear reason and stand down.

But when neither of them spoke, each brother glaring at the other, eyes alight in some sort of silent struggle for power. “Enough,” Shane interjected once more, the tension radiating off the brother’s affecting the group as a whole. “I ain’t gonna ask either of ya again —”

“Alright, alright, relax cowboy,” Merle finally scoffed, waving Shane away. “Put a cork in it. We’ll play nice. No need ta’ get all dramatic, now.”

Shane shot Merle a dangerous look before he shook his head, running a hand over his face as he grabbed Lori’s elbow and gently pulled her away. Daryl remained unmoving, chest heaving as he waited for his brother to move first.

Merle whistled lowly, slowly turning on his heels, seeming like he was finally standing down. But then suddenly, he glanced at Daryl from over his shoulder, snickering softly. “Hey, ya think Officer Dickweed’ll let me borrow his handcuffs sometime? Jus’ in case I run into that piece a’ ass from earlier, ya know? I’d like ta’ be a lil’ more prepared next time,” he murmured lowly, an unsettling gleam in his eye.

And Daryl saw red.

Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself suddenly throwing his crossbow to the ground and launching himself at Merle, tackling his brother roughly to the ground. He heard vague shouts echoing from around him, could feel someone tugging on the back of his shirt, but all he could focus on was Merle’s taunting expression.

He was able to throw in one solid punch, feeling a swell of satisfaction as Merle’s head snapped to the side before he was yanked off his brother and hauled backward. Daryl struggled against the restraint, watching as Merle was pulled to his feet, Shane and Morales fighting to hold him back as well.

“Daryl, stop!” Glenn’s voice suddenly broke through the noise. “Just relax!” he urged, grunting as he and T-Dog struggled to hold the archer at bay.

“— let go a’ me, damn it!” Merle growled, his face twisted as he tried to wriggle free.

“Enough!”

“Break it up!”

“Shane —”

“Ain’t none a’ this concern none a’ y’all!” Merle snarled, still fighting against Shane and Morales, his eyes zeroed in on Daryl. “This between me an’ him,” he growled, jabbing a finger in the archer’s direction. “C’mon, Darlina — how’s about we settle this like men?”

“‘Well, what a’ sorry fuckin’ excuse for a ‘man’ ya are, then! Ya do nothin’ but shit for this group!” Daryl snarled back, all of his pent up rage spewing out of him. “Could’a done somethin’ useful today — but instead I find ya out there gettin’ high an’ doin’ some stupid shit ta’ an innocent girl, actin’ like a damn prick! Ya ain’t nothin’ but nothin’, Merle! Do ya get that by now? Huh?”

Merle movements stilled as he regarded his brother threateningly. “Ya best watch your mouth, boy,” he rasped darkly, his eyes narrowed as Shane and Morales slowly released him, still keeping him at arm's length. “Don’t be forgettin’ who you’re talkin’ ta’, now. Don’t be forgettin’ whose blood ya got runnin’ through ya. Ya don’t wanna go on an’ piss off the only family ya got left, the only family who ever watched out for ya an’ stood up for your pathetic punk ass!” he growled, the anger in his words growing.

Daryl scoffed, yanking out of Glenn and T-Dog’s grasp before marching over to where he’d thrown his crossbow down. He grabbed his weapon, ignoring the heavy silence that’d settled over the camp as he regarded his brother once more, feeling nothing but contempt. “Ya jus’ a fuckin’ waste a’ space,” he spat between heaving breaths, slinging his bow over his shoulder, the words feeling bitter on his tongue yet he couldn’t stop them from slipping through his lips. “A good-for-nothin’ addict — jus’ like dad.”

Daryl ignored the subtle flash of hurt that snaked its way across Merle’s face before his expression hardened. No one spoke, all eyes suddenly trained on him as the two brothers stared each other down once more.

Then, without another word, Daryl turned on his heels, shoved away the mounting swell of guilt that suddenly hit him, and stormed back into the darkened forest.

Daryl jolted back to reality, a metallic taste suddenly seeping across his tongue. He quickly pulled his thumb away from his teeth, noticing the blood now trickling down the side of his thumbnail. He sighed, wiping the blood away on his jeans as he focused back on the road.

Those were the last words he ever said to his brother. He hadn’t expected that fight to happen, hadn’t expected for those insults to come from his mouth, but Merle had always had a way of pushing him — and Daryl finally snapped.

But now his brother was gone and he’d never get the chance to mend things. His punishment for what he’d said was to wallow in the guilt that’d stay with him for the rest of his life — however short he had left, at least.

Another whimper drew his attention back to Anna and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Her brow was creased, lips turned down into a slight pout, eyes shut tight and crinkled around the edges. Sleep brought her no peace — she still looked just as weary, just as troubled, as she did when she was awake.

Daryl fought back the urge to reach out and wake her.

He sighed softly, forcing his eyes back on the road, away from the girl sleeping beside him.

When Daryl had found out what happened in Atlanta, that Merle had been left behind, handcuffed to the roof like a fucking animal, his first instinct was to lash out. That always seemed to be his first instinct for some reason. But he’d gone back for his brother — he’d made the trek back to that dead-ridden city to save him and what did his brother do? He cut off his own fucking hand instead.

Dumbass.

If Merle had just waited a little while longer, if he hadn’t been so damn impulsive —

Daryl grimaced. He’d seen some nasty shit in his life — but seeing his brother’s sawed-off, cold, limp, stump of a hand laying on that roof…well, that had to take the cake.

His stomach churned just thinking about it.

Still, his brother was tough — toughest son of a bitch Daryl had ever known. And he knew that Merle would never just roll over and give up…so the archer did what he did best and he tracked his ass.

And that had been a dead-fucking-end.

The only thing Daryl was sure of was that Merle had somehow made it out of the city alive. He had to have been the one who stole the truck that he, Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog had driven down to the railroad. It had to be him.

So now, Daryl was left to live with the unknown — the fate of his brother was something he’d wonder about until the day he died. Maybe Merle had succumbed to the effects of his injury, crashed the truck, and bled out somewhere on the road. Maybe he found his way back to the quarry and realized that the entire group had upped and left him, that his own brother had upped and left him. Maybe he’d made it somewhere safe, found a new shelter, a new group of people to take him in.

Daryl scoffed under his breath. Merle had a better shot of winning the fucking lottery than he did finding a group of people who’d put up with his bullshit.

Just because you gave up on your brother, doesn’t mean I’m giving up on mine.

His grip tightened around the steering wheel as Anna’s words echoed through his thoughts, their argument from last night settling like a pit in his stomach.

A fresh wave of fury washed over him as he remembered Anna’s desperate shouts, Shane’s greedy advances, and the blistering red heat that’d coursed through him when he came out of his room and saw her pinned up against that wall.

He could’ve killed Shane right then and there.

Daryl’s eyes darted up to the rearview mirror, spotting Shane driving his Jeep directly behind him in the caravan of vehicles, the man’s face twisted with tension, eyes narrowed as he stared straight ahead. But he must’ve felt the archer’s gaze on him because suddenly, his eyes flashed up to meet Daryl’s in the rearview mirror. The two held one another’s stare for a long moment before Shane finally looked away, letting his arm dangle outside the open window of his Jeep, his fingertips drumming against the door.

He should’ve killed Shane right then and there.

Anna shifted in the passenger seat, curling inwardly, arms wrapped around her middle as she tried to find comfort against the glass window she leaned against. After a moment, she sighed softly, her even breathing resuming as she settled against the door.

Daryl let go of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He was hoping Rick would pull the RV over sooner rather than later for the group to reconvene, giving him a chance to escape the small confines of the car and the inevitable tension when Anna finally woke up. She’d tried to talk to him about what happened between them back at the CDC, but it hadn’t been the right time — it never seemed to be the right time.

So he’d brushed her off — but not for the reasons she probably thought.

As memories from the night before swarmed his vision, something suddenly made itself startlingly clear. The truth was, she’d been right — he had given up on his brother.

But not her — he hadn’t given up on her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N : Season 2 has begun!

We got to see a little flashback about that brutal fight Daryl and Merle got into, part of what has been fueling his hostility. As well as some of his conflicting thoughts. What’d you guys think of this chapter?

Next chapter will also be from Daryl’s POV -- we’ll be seeing a flashback of the night before and what exactly happened to Daryl after his and Anna’s argument. And then we will be switching back to dear Anna’s side of things.

I’m excited for what’s to come. Thank you to those who’ve stuck with me. I appreciate you all so so so much. If anyone is lost or has any questions, feel free to shoot me a message!

QUESTION OF THE WEEK: 1. Are you still interested in me continuing this story? I understand if not because it’s been so long and I, myself, couldn’t even remember everything that’s happened. 2. Was Daryl right in what he said to Merle? Who’s side are you on?

Feedback is INCREDIBLY important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or message or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Let’s discuss and be friends!

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randomfandomimagine · 5 years

Text

Fate Is Sealed. Chapter 8

Fandom: John Wick

Ship: John x Elizabeth (OC)

Previous Chapter - Chapter Index - Next Chapter

Read it on AO3!!

A/N: For those of you who read my imagine 'We're Even', you'll realize this is pretty much it with a few things changed to better fit Elizabeth and the current situation of this story. Hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Even as I clutched my side, which was still gushing blood and threatened to kill me. Even when it was my only option because not even the Continental was a safe place anymore, knowing them to have broken the rules before. Even then, I couldn’t believe I was standing there at the front door.

I raised my arm, my knuckles hovering over the door as I hesitated to knock. Our relationship was too complicated, what if he refused to help me? What if he told me on everyone? Even worse, what if he finished the job? He probably held grudges for what I did when we first met, even if I had tried to undo those mistakes. I hoped it was just my feverish mind and that I was wrong, that the tension I felt between us was only in my mind.

My frantic train of thought was interrupted when a loud groan escaped my lips as the pain from my gunshot wound suddenly worsened by ten times. My vision became blurry and I limply fell against the door, struggling to stay on my feet and gasping for air.

The soft thud of my body hitting the door brought attention to my presence, as a barking started inside the house. I grit my teeth and straightened up as much as I could, forsaking the support that the door provided me with and instead having to hold my own weight, even if my legs threatened to buckle underneath me.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” A voice said from inside the house, causing me to swear under my breath. Footsteps grew closer as I spotted a figure through the glass.

The front door opened just as I noticed I had stained it with a bloody handprint.

“Hey” I breathed out, gulping while I swayed in place. “Long time no see”

It had been less than a day, but that moment at Aurelio’s shop felt distant and surreal.

I observed John as he blankly watched me. His black hair framed his stern brown eyes. He was wearing a casual white T-shirt and a pair of gray sweat pants. I stupidly grinned at the realization that I just saw the Boogeyman in his pijamas. Maybe it was just the blood loss, which was making me delirious.

Noticing John’s silence, I forced myself to say something. My mind worked slowly, but I managed to blurt out some sort of apology to lighten up the mood and hopefully ease his vexation.

“Sorry to disturb your peace and quiet, John” I breathed out, still clutching the bleeding wound in my side. “I didn’t know where else to go”

“Elizabeth” John gulped and clenched his jaw. “What happened?”

I took my time to answer, trying to regain my breath and focusing all my strength in staying conscious. Everything seemed too bright, but I couldn’t tell if it was because all the walls were white and contrasted with the darkness of the night or because of my feverish state.

“Business gone… wrong…” My knees finally buckled, but John was ready and he caught me in his arms before I could hit the floor.

I frowned, helplessly leaning against his chest and trying to hold on to his shoulders for support. I opened my mouth to speak but found that I had no strength to speak not a single world. John piped up anyhow.

“Were you followed?” He brought me inside the house and kicked the door so it would close behind him.

“N-No” I managed through grit teeth, now struggling to stay awake. “I made… sure…”

My strength failed me once more and John decided to completely scoop my form into the safety of his arms. It was a great relief not to have to stand on my own.

I hadn’t noticed there was another presence there, but the barking from before continued as John carried me further into his home. Two pair of paws followed after us while John hurried into the bedroom.

I closed my eyes, tiredly leaning my head against his shoulder. It seemed to somewhat stabilize me and stop everything from spinning around me. Despite our history, I felt incredible safe at that moment, his very presence being like a silent promise that everything would be okay.

When he gingerly laid me on the bed, the thought that I would get blood everywhere popped up in my head. I was most definitely delirious, worrying about his sheets while I was literally bleeding out.

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back” John squeezed my shoulder before rushing off, allegedly to get a first aid kit. I immediately missed his comforting presence, but was too exhausted to call him back to me.

I got slightly startled when a soft weight fell on the bed and I looked to see the pitbull, cautiously moving closer to me. He whimpered, watching me writhing in pain and groaning, and licked my face. Somewhat endeared at such pure gesture, I weakly smiled, although I softly pushed the animal away.

John returned, his bare feet thumping against the wooden floor. Noticing my eyes were closed in exhaustion, I opened them to see him scattering the contents of the first aid kit across the bed.

Through heavy-lid eyes I watched him move, calm and efficient, as he pushed my hands aside to take a look at my wound. My hand heavily fell on his shoulder, earning a glance and a raised eyebrow from him.

“I… wasn’t sure… if you’d…” My eyes closed again, but I felt him tapping my cheek.

“Hey, stay awake” His deep voice seemed to echo around the room as he broke his silence. “If I’d what?”

It took me a few seconds to figure out he was going back to what I had just said. It was so hard to focus, and sleeping seemed so cozy at that moment. I was so very tired and just wanted the excruciating pain to stop.

“That you would… help me” I breathed out, wincing when he pressed something against my wound that stung like hell.

“Why not?” I tried to find any emotions in his voice –concern, anger, pity, contempt, fear –but it was flat and neutral.

“I tried to kill you” I replied with an attempt of a sarcastic smile.

“And you didn’t” His eyes briefly met with mine, but he quickly resumed his task.

I couldn’t help a chuckle despite my pain and weakness. Ever since I ambushed him, I still wasn’t sure if that was the right call or if it was a mistake not to kill him. But if it was the reason why I didn’t get John Wick against me and instead led me to that moment, maybe it was a good decision.

“You were shot?” He suddenly asked me, and it took me a bit again to comprehend the words again.

“I…” I gasped, feeling that speaking was exhausting. “O-Out”

John gave me a nod, and I was glad to see understood what I meant and I didn’t need to elaborate. I shut my eyes tight, though, when I realized that it also meant that he needed to stitch it since I had pulled the bullet out. I didn’t exactly remember when I did it, but I had heard the clinking noise it made when I dropped it.

“You really meant it then” I hissed when I felt the cold needle piercing my skin. “W-We’re… even”

“In fact, I owed you one” I could have sworn there was a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“That’s right, I forgot…” My eyes closed themselves once more, and I decided to rest them for a bit. “History repeats itself, huh”

“In this world, it often does” He suddenly sounded so far away, his voice fading out into the void. “Elizabeth? Shit, stay awake!”

I wanted to do what he said, but I was too comfortable in the painless pit of darkness that was engulfing me.

I was surrounded by red. My heart beat quickly, pumping blood so violently that it resonated against my ears. My fingers pulled the trigger, and the sound was so loud that each time it felt like I was hitting a drum, but maybe that was my heart thumping in my chest still. Pure adrenaline traveled through my veins, clouding my thoughts and replacing them with pure instinct and muscle memory. Like an animal, like a predator.

I cringed, tensing up and jolting up at the sound of myself screaming. It was all I could fathom now. Screaming, gunshots. Fear, pain. Blood.

I gasped, startling myself awake, unable to breathe. I opened my eyes to be received with brown eyes laced with alarm, framed by a curtain of dark hair. I breathed in relief when I recognized his face.

“It’s okay, you’re safe” John whispered softly, even if his hands were tightly wrapped around my wrists. Assuming I jolted awake and squirmed, I lightly tugged at his grip and he released me.

It took me a moment to recall the latest events and understand what happened and where I was, but as soon as I did, a wave of relief washed through me.

“Oh, fuck…” I breathed out, finding myself extremely weak and my head spinning once more.

“You alright?” He asked, sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving me.

“Y-Yeah, I think so…” I lifted the hem of my shirt to reveal the bullet wound in my side, now clean and stitched closed. It still throbbed, but at least it wasn’t bleeding anymore.

“I healed your arm too” At first, I frowned at John’s words, but then I remembered that I got stabbed there. Craning my neck to look at the wound in my arm, I saw that it was bandaged too.

I was still full of bruises everywhere, and my face felt a bit swollen near the temple. But I felt much better now that my stab wound and my bullet wound were taken care of. I felt tightness in my face that told me he covered the cuts in my cheek and eyebrow too.

“Thanks, John” I told him, pouring as much honesty into my words as I could. “Really, thank you”

I watched him carefully, wondering why he allowed me in and even went through all the trouble to treat the wounds for me. Even though I had done the same thing for him once. Everything would be so much easier if I could read something in the blank canvas that was his face.

“I didn’t mean to bring you into this” I muttered, seeing as he was quiet and refused eye contact now, despite my staring.

“I can handle it”

“I know you can”

“Good”

Uncomfortable with his silence, I slowly sat up. I knew John was a man of few words, but I was so puzzled and intrigued by his behavior that I wanted some sort of explanation. A clear sign that he didn’t hold grudges against me, that he didn’t feel obligated to help me and it was a decision based on his opinion on me. On his… feelings.

“Rest” He softly pushed me back against the pillows, placing one strong hand on the side of my head in what I thought was a comforting gesture. “You’re safe here”

I wanted to tell him that I didn’t want to impose, that I was better and I could leave already. That I didn’t want to take up his bed and be an unwanted presence in his house. However, I pursed my lips when I recognized that harshness in his eyes that admitted no argument.

Satisfied when I didn’t try to sit up again, John nodded and stood from the edge of the bed.

“John” I held him by the hand before he could leave. He looked me over his shoulder. “Why… Why did you help me?”

“I told you, I owed you” Any warmth that might have been present in his voice when he told me to rest was now gone. “Now we’re even”

I let out a sarcastic chuckle to hide how much the impact and bluntness of his words hurt.

“So that’s why” I angrily let go of him. “It’s nice to see where we stand”

John turned around, completely facing me, and towered over me. He observed me for a moment, the dark harshness in his glance softening slightly.

“How did this happen?”

“I was adamant and angry” I gulped at the memory of the confrontation. “And kind of reckless…”

“You’re better than that”

“No, I’m not”

Another silence settled in the room, and I stirred in the spot until he spoke up again.

“What I meant is…” He averted his eyes for a moment, I couldn’t tell if in annoyance or resignation. However, I did know he pretended he didn’t hear me. “Who did this to you?”

“You don’t want to know” I closed my eyes and heaved a sigh, utterly exhausted. “You’re involved enough already”

“That’s cute” John chuckled, surprising me so much that I opened my eyes to look at him. He bore a sarcastic expression.

I sat up again and supported my weight in my elbow even if my arm was shaking and begging me to lie down again. Despite the icy glare he threw me, I maintained eye contact.

“I know you can handle it, Boogeyman” I poured venom in my words, offended by his patronizing demeanor. “That doesn’t mean I want to drag your ass into something that’s not your fucking business”

His glare only hardened at my words and my tone, but I held his gaze. I expected anger from him, but he just lingered in the tense silence.

Noticing I had used my bad arm to lean on the bed, a strangled grunt of pain tore my throat and I collapsed back on the bed, breathing heavily from that needless effort.

“Rest” John repeated sternly, covering me with a blanket. “I don’t want to see you up”

With that, he walked away, leaving me with the only company of his pitbull, who sat at the feet of the bed. I suppressed the urge to call out for John and ask him to stay with me, to provide me with his protective company. But I doubted he would even glance back at me if I did. And I… I didn’t want him to stay with me anyway.

I didn’t know how long it had passed or when did I fall asleep –I didn’t even remember going to sleep, I must have been too exhausted –but when I next awoke, it was almost bright outside. The sun was high, illuminating the room through the window.

The house was quiet except for the distant sound of oil splattering and dishes clinging. John must have been in the kitchen, so I decided to go and meet with him despite his wishes.

Hoping he wouldn’t lecture me for it, I sat up. I took my time, taking a few deep breaths, to swing my legs over the bed and stand up. I was instantly received with a head rush, and a barking sound close to me informed me of the dog’s concern for my wellbeing when I dangerously swayed.

“I’m okay, buddy” Still recovering from the dizziness, I blindly moved my hand to pet his head. “I’m fine”

Patiently waiting until I felt stable again, I touched my side and my arm to analyze the evolution of my wounds. I was profoundly relieved to find no blood in my palm. I hadn’t bled through the bandages.

I followed the delicious aroma of eggs and bacon into the kitchen, where John was just finishing serving the breakfast in two plates. He didn’t look at me, but his shoulders tensed ever so slightly at my presence.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you up” He said, still not making eye contact.

“That’s too bad” I sarcastically replied, subtly eyeing the food. “I have no intention on lying down again”

John turned his head to finally look at me and pursed his lips a little. He leaned both hands on the counter, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher.

“They’re still after you, and now you’re injured” He paused, almost waiting for me to object. “You can just stay here”

“You already paid your debt” Unable to ignore my groaning stomach, I grabbed two pieces of bacon off the plate for later, earning the smallest of smirks to show up on his face. “Besides, I’m no John Wick, but I can handle it”

That said, I wanted nothing more to do with him. I wanted to stay, I really did, but I wouldn’t. I refused his charity, it made me feel like he was reluctant to help me. Like after all we had been through together, he only saw me as pending business.

I had truly believed that sweet John Wick that comforted me that time was still somewhere in there, that he had a tender side no one knew about and that I had been lucky enough to get a peek of. And when he didn’t think twice to help me, basically saving my life, and healing my wounds and letting me rest in the safety of his home… I thought he was allowing that side of him to shine because of our history and our connection. However, it all crumbled when he said ‘I owed you’.

Finding it too painful to meet with his eyes again, I began walking to the front door. Before I could, though, a hand firmly clasped around my good arm, stopping me in my tracks. John was suddenly very close to me, breathing heavily.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Elizabeth” Were his only words, he knew I was too stubborn to stay. “You’re better than that”

He spoke slowly, wanting every word to sink in. The intensity of his glance only backed up their importance.

I showed him a sad smile, thinking back to a conversation we once had. He thought he knew me better than anyone, and maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was what bothered me so much, the possibility that he did, that he saw through me.

“Maybe I’m not” I broke free from his grasp, sending him an intense glance in return.

I walked to the door with determination, feeling his eyes burning holes in my nape. I opened it and turned around to look at him one last time. My chest tightened thinking that I might never see John again, but things were too complicated to stay.

“Don’t worry, John” I said, stepping outside. “If I get hurt, I won’t be bothering you again”

He tilted his head to the side in some sort of warning, but I continued talking when he opened his mouth to reply, interrupting him before he could start speaking.

“We’re even now, aren’t we?” I bitterly smiled at him, waving goodbye.

“Elizabeth…” John clicked his tongue, taking a few steps forward.

I shut the door loudly, already walking away from the house and noticing an emptiness filling my chest.

“Elizabeth!” I heard him calling me, stubborn, from inside the house. But I was already gone.

#fate is sealed #fis #fanfiction #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic #series #john wick series #john wick x reader #john wick x oc #john wick x original character #original character #no reader insert #suspense #action #romance #drama #enemies to lovers

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thehanwen · 5 years

Text

Notes Part 2

Pairing: Klaus x Reader

Summery: Klaus has a bad night, but a good morning. The reader takes care of him and realizes the extent of their feelings

Warnings: Drugs, Giving drugs to a drug addict, angst

Word Count: 2,374

A/N: Here is Part two! Sorry for the wait, but I hope everyone likes it! Please feel free to message me about the fic or if you just wanna talk Umbrella Academy. Also I’ve been thinking about taking requests, so wend those in if you want. Anyway, Enjoy!

Song: x

Part 1

You wake up to your alarm and instinctively turn it off, before sleepily taking stock of your surroundings. The first thing you notice is that your cold, which doesn’t seem right to you for some reason. Klaus is usually so warm. Upon further inspection, you don’t feel the usual pressure of his body against yours. Where was he? Did he leave? The pace of your heart quickens and worry fills your mind. You open your eyes more and lean up on your elbows. There is a tuft of brown hair peeking from behind the foot-board of your bed. You sigh in relief. He was still here. But your relief was short-lived; his position got your anxiety going again. You sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

“Klaus? You Okay?” You call him softly. No answer. Standing, you pad quietly over to him.

He is curled into a ball, head between his knees and now that your closer you can hear him muttering to himself. “No, noo, no, go away, no” His hands keep moving frantically from his hair to his legs and his feet are tapping on the floor. You recognize the symptoms of Klaus’ withdrawal immediately. The physical symptoms from the drugs, combined with the reappearance of the ghosts create a pretty awful concoction. You felt your heart ache for him. He never talked about it, or asked you for help, but you knew he needed it. Even on a good night, Klaus couldn’t sleep soundly. You wished you could take all of his pain and trauma away with a touch. But you knew there was nothing you could do, not really. Klaus was strong, and he had to do this for himself. But he needed to know he was safe with you, that he could rely on you, that you would do what you could. Crouching in front of him, you grab his hands, they’re sweaty, but you manage to keep your grip. You call his name, softly, but with authority. He doesn’t respond, but he stops muttering. You rub his hands and move one to cup your cheek. The touch helps ground him and lets him know your real and not a ghost or a hallucination. Relief is evident on his face and in his posture.

“Hey, hey, I’m here, your safe”

Klaus lifts his head and locks his eyes with yours. Looking into his eyes was like diving into the depths of a green ocean, deep and empty. You could see the desperation of his soul screaming for relief, but just barely. He seemed lost in his own body. You stroke his face with your free hand and he closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. You both stay like that for what seems like a long time. Every so often you croon reassure words to him, being as soothing as possible. You feel him slowly return to himself and you smile softly. You were proud of him for coming out of it so quickly. In the past you had stayed like that for hours, trying to talk him down. You would never give up on him.

You had seen so much worse, and this seemed like progress. But then he moved, and it’s like his power is super speed. He jumps out of your reach, lunging for his jacket. He rummages through his pockets as if his life depended on it. He finally finds a small bag of pills. Your heart drops. He rips it open. No, this is not happening. Before he can put them into his mouth you snatch them out of his shaky hands. He crawls toward you on his knees and claws at your shirt with his long fingers. His weight is almost enough to pull you down, but you manage to stay standing. You were his will power now and he needed you.

“PLEASE! Y/N Please!” He begs, literally on his knees in front of you. You heard the need and desperation in his voice, but you weren’t about to let him do that to himself, not with these.

“Please, hey come on now, it’ll make me feel better, I need it, come on, just one, just one, please! One” he continues to spout endless pleas at you, but you ignore him and look around the room. The window next to your bed is open. So that’s how he got in. Huh. You walk toward the window with a mission, Klaus crawling after you, still chattering on. “What are doing? Come on Y/N, it’ll make me better, I’ll feel better, just one Y/N, just one! Maybe two?” Weighing the pills in your hand, you draw back and throw them as hard as you can out into the street. Klaus rushes after, nearly hurling himself out the window after them. Then he sprints back to the door, but you catch him by the waist on his way by.

“Klaus” you say firmly trying to get his attention. He doesn’t even hear you.

“KLAUS” you grab his chin and force him to look at you. “Calm down, breathe”

He struggles a little more, begging you to let him go. It’s not easy to keep him in place, but you know this is what he needs. A firm hand. Sometimes it’s hard and all you want to do is give in, let him get that temporary relief. But you’ve gone to too many hospitals, gotten too many emergency calls, seen him die too many times to let this continue. Eventually he realizes he can’t escape and stops struggling. He places his hands on your arms and takes in a deep breath, exhaling hard, defeated. You breathe with him, putting your forehead against his, but not weakening your grip on his hips. As you stand there with him, your heart beat slows. You hadn’t realized it was beating fast in the first place. You were almost as shaken as he was. Seeing him like this wasn’t new to you, but it hurt just as bad every time. His hot breath bathes your face. It comes out ragged at first, but every breath is slower, calmer. Breathing together was intimate, as if every breath he took was also yours. As if your breath was his. You shared strength. You shared life. As the peacefulness of being so close took over you, your grip on Klaus’ hips relaxed. His muscles twitched. Every molecule in him wants to run out that door, and search until he finds the drugs, but he has enough control right now to resist. Your hands seem to move on their own, skating around Klaus’s body, up his back, pulling him into a hug. He hugs you back quickly with everything he has. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and his long arms wrap all the way around you.

“Everything will be alright. You’re strong and I’m here for you” you whisper in his ear. He hugs you tighter. The pressure is a little too much, but it’s comforting because it means Klaus is okay. When he’s calm enough you take him by the hand and go over to your jacket. You search through your jacket pockets until you find it, the gift you had gotten for him.

“Here” A smirk crosses your lips, as you hand a small rectangular package to Klaus.

“Chocolate? Y/N I’m not sure you understand my problem.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, as he waves the candy around “This is nice and all, I mean who doesn’t love a bar of chocolate now and then, but-“

“Read it, dummy” you say, a chuckle almost escaping your lips.

He looks down at the wrapper and a smile grows on his face as he reads ‘cannabis’. His eyebrows raise and his gaze on you is soft “You know me so well” his tone is almost sincere now. He gives you a quick peck on the cheek before ripping open the packaging and taking a huge bite.

“Figured it’s better than the hard stuff” you chuckle.

He moans into the chocolate as a response and takes another bite. You chuckle again and roll your eyes. It’s morally grey to give a drug addict weed. But you take what you can get. Weed is better than whatever was in those pills.

As you start getting ready for work, Klaus waltzes over to your stereo and scans through your music collection. He chooses something and puts the disc into the slot. 100 Foxes by Cinders starts blaring through the speakers. Klaus starts twirling around you, practically making out with the chocolate bar. You smile at him and try to ignore the music’s resonance with his life and your relationship.

‘You find yourself unsure Of anything that occurs Am I wrong to say That I feel things goin' the wrong way?’

Klaus glides around the room, swaying to the calm melody. Closing his eyes, he hums along. You were sure he would sing if he knew the words. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, as you put on your pants. You loved that he could be so carefree and lose himself in the music even after all he has been through. It’s something you admire about him.

‘Don't say you're falling down again But if you do, I'll pick you up, my friend’

The music picks up and Klaus grabs your hands and spins you around a couple times before gliding off on his own again. A warm glow starts in your chest and you can’t help but let a smile take over your face as you wonder if maybe he did understand the significance of the song. You slip your work shirt over your head and go to join him in his revelries as the chorus starts.

‘100 foxes on fire Couldn't bring you down One honest mistake or lie Wouldn't take your crown

Dead or alive You know you'd try to do the right thing Dead or alive You know you'd try’

Together you waltz around the room. He spins you and then you spin him back. He even lifts you up at one point, making you giggle. As the beat picks up he bursts dramatically into an air drum solo. You accompany him on the air guitar, rocking like nothing else mattered. After the chorus the tone of the song takes a more somber turn and you look at Klaus suddenly full of emotion.

‘When times of need Are soaked into the fabric of your days’

Klaus starts ballroom dancing by himself, stepping gracefully around the room, keeping his posture up and arms extended like there was an invisible partner. You figured it might be Ben. For some reason, though, you can’t join him. You can only stare. It’s like he is living in the moment and your just watching from behind a pane of glass.

‘And the stream of your veins Only heartache remains’

Watching, you can feel your heart pull toward him. Aching for him; for how much he’s lost and how much he has still to deal with. Your heart longs to keep him safe, keep him sober, and protect the only genuinely good and caring person in your life. You felt the ache deep in your bones that this moment was pure and good and you wanted it to last forever. You wanted to wake up to this every morning and come home to it, to him, every night. Your heart was telling you what to do, but you were scared. Scared that he would pull away, run away. Scared even more that he would want you, but then you would lose him to addiction and fear. But this kind of revelation wasn’t something you could keep to yourself. You had to be brave. You go over to the stereo and turn the music down. Klaus makes a quiet pouting sound, but keeps dancing.

“Klaus…”

“Yes, Doll?” He hums, but continues dancing with Ben. You wanted his full attention for this. You walk up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Klaus?” you ask again. This time he picks up on your strange tone and turns his attention toward you.

“What is it Y/N”

“Klaus” You pause, trying to get the words past the lump in your throat. “Klaus I think I…I think I-“

You’re interrupted by your phone. You look back at it and see the ‘Your Late’ alarm chiming.

“SHIT” you yell. Klaus jumps slightly at the sudden change in volume.

“Was that necessary” You give him an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I gotta go, we can talk about this later” You run around your apartment collecting your work things. “You’ll be here when I get back right?” You ask, suddenly worried that he is going to disappear.

“I have some stuff and things to do, you know gotta see the fam-ily, dear old Dad’s funeral or whatever” He waves his hand around vaguely. “But you haven’t seen the last of me, Doll, that’s for sure”

You smile and rush to give him a kiss and a sympathetic touch on the arm, before running out the door.

“And leave the DOOR unlocked this time!” He screams after you.

“NO CHANCE” you yell back.

Klaus closes the door after you and leans back against it, a contented sigh escaping his lips. Despite his state earlier, it has been a good morning. He knew now that what he had been missing in his life was Y/N. You took care of each other, though Klaus did hate that he needed more help than most. He wished you didn’t need to help him that he could deal with his problems himself. But you two had made a pact a long time ago not to hide that kind of stuff and if you hadn’t broken it in all this time than neither was he.

A loud noise comes from his belly. He looks down and pats his stomach. Of course he was hungry, when was the last time he ate? Two days ago? He looks around your kitchen and spots a waffle maker. He grins manically and raises his eyebrows at Ben, who was sitting on the counter.

“Waffles?”

#klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #tua #ben hargreeves #umbrella academy klaus #fanfic #tua fic #umbrella academy fic #number 4 #number four #the seance

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callboxkat · 6 years

Text

Infinitesimal (part 19)

Author’s note: This one took a bit longer than I expected to edit, but it’s an important part! I hope you guys like it. Let me know what you think. :)

Warnings: illness mention, injury mention, arguing, panic, food mention

Word count: 2867

Look for the masterpost in the notes!

...

Roman had been rather distracted in his classes lately, and to be honest, it was starting to affect his work. In his defense, he felt that no one would be able to blame him if they knew what was going on. Finding Patton, a not-quite-five-inch-tall, half-drowned, sick and scared mouse-man who had to be nursed back to health and whose trust had to be painstakingly earned, was something that he felt plenty of people would consider distracting. Roman would argue that he was dealing with it very well, thank you very much.

Of course, it wasn’t as if he could just tell people what was going on—and they wouldn’t believe him, anyway, even if he wanted to do that—so his professors were just getting very annoyed with him lately, assuming he was just slacking off and not paying attention. (Okay, so maybe he wasn’t paying as much attention as he could have, but again, tiny, sick mouse-men were distracting!)

So, Roman was already in a foul mood when he got home from his morning classes on Thursday.

He let himself into his and Logan’s apartment and closed the door behind him. He leaned his head back against the wood with a heavy sigh, then pushed himself off of it and walked out into the kitchen. He put his backpack in its usual spot in the corner and stretched, reaching up towards the ceiling with a groan.

“Long morning?” asked Logan, looking up from where he was scribbling in a notebook.

“You could say that,” Roman sighed. He glanced at the living room, silently debated for a second, and then walked towards the doorway. He didn’t know if Patton would appreciate seeing him; and sure, they were going to see each other when they ate lunch either way; but he just wanted to say hello and to check on the little guy. Plus, Logan had mentioned that Patton should become more at ease as he grew accustomed to their presence. He couldn’t grow accustomed to them if they always stayed away.

All Roman really wanted was for Patton to feel safe. To know that they weren’t going to hurt him.

With this in mind, Roman entered the room. He knocked quietly on the doorframe just before he did so, wanting to give Patton a warning. He could imagine that a giant—which he was, from Patton’s perspective—suddenly bursting in might be rather startling.

“Hey, Pat,” he said, putting on his best smile. Patton was on the table, bundled up in all his blankets, but his arms were free. He was drawing, the little box of supplies Roman had given him at his side.

Patton looked up at him.

“How was your morning?” he asked.

Patton shrugged, twiddling with the colored pencil lead he held in one hand.

“I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier, but I really like your new outfit. You look nice.”

Patton glanced down at himself, shifting. Roman couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“It’s pretty remarkable you know, that you can put together a whole outfit like that in a day,” Roman continued, and he meant it. “Did you stay up all night working on it? Did you get enough sleep?”

Patton looked away, seeming a little awkward now. He shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he backtracked, his heart sinking, “or to bother you. I just wanted to say I’m impressed.”

Patton glanced up at him. Maybe Roman was just seeing what he wanted to see, but he thought he saw a hint of pride in Patton’s eyes.

“Anyway, lunch is soon. I’ll leave you alone for a bit ’til then.” He gave Patton a little wave and went back out into the kitchen. Logan was still sitting there, at the table, bent over his notebook. Roman sat down heavily next to him.

Logan looked up and regarded him for a moment. “What would you like for lunch?” he asked. “I can cook today.”

“I don’t care. Whatever’s easiest, I suppose.”

Logan nodded and got up, leaving his notebook and pencil on the table. As he flipped it shut and went to prepare lunch, Roman caught a glimpse of one of the pages. Frowning, he pulled it over and reopened it. He read the contents of the page in a heavy silence.

A moment passed before Roman picked up the notebook and walked over to where Logan was standing at the counter.

“Ah, Roman, would you mind handing me the—.”

“What the hell is this?” Roman asked, waving the notebook under Logan’s nose.

“One of my notebooks,” Logan said, frowning. “I would appreciate if you didn’t touch my personal effects.” He moved to take it back, but Roman held the book just out of reach. Logan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Is there a reason for this childish exchange?”

Roman huffed at him and opened the notebook to a particular page. It held a rough sketch of what at first glance seemed to be a human, until one saw the long tail. The body and each limb were marked with measurements, and there were notes written in small script on the side. Data and observations and questions. About Patton.

“You’re studying him!” Roman snapped, keeping his volume low so that Patton wouldn’t overhear.

Logan seemed confused. “I am afraid that I do not see the issue. As a member of the scientific community, it is imperative to attempt to further humanity’s knowledge of the universe as much as possible. Even putting that aside, it is important to understand Patton as best as possible in order to determine how to help him.”

“He’s not some test subject in a lab!”

“I know that, Roman. I have neither harmed Patton nor pressured him to provide any information that he did not want to provide.”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t want you measuring him.”

“I took those measurements when we first brought him here,” Logan admitted. He turned off the stove so that what he was cooking would not burn. “Not only as scientific data—which is, regardless of Patton’s personhood, important to collect—but also in case it became necessary in the future.” He was starting to sound agitated. “Had we been the ones to make him clothes, or needed to put a cast on one of his limbs, or attempted to as accurately as possible determine a dosage of medicine, or had any other relevant event occurred, these measurements could have been instrume—.”

“Those are excuses,” Roman said, his voice deathly quiet. Logan broke off at his tone. There was a long moment of silence before finally, he spoke again.

“Are you telling me I should not attempt to understand the world around me? Besides, the data I have collected is not of the conventional, experimental sort, but rather a collection of observations, developing hypotheses, and recommendations of future actions based on said hypotheses.”

“Goddamn it, Logan, I’m telling you not to treat Patton like he’s some scientific discovery. He is a person, a sick and hurt person who needs our help. He doesn’t need you seeing him as your ticket to a Nobel Prize, or whatever you’re doing this for. Don’t pretend it’s out of some kind of ‘scientific duty’ or that you’re doing it to help him.”

Logan reached for his notebook once more, but he unsurprisingly failed to snatch it. “What do you want from me?” he asked. “I can’t just… not document my findings.”

“You can learn about him the normal way,” Roman said. “Like any normal human being learns about other people. As an equal. Not something to be studied.”

Logan looked towards the other room, towards the wall behind which they both knew Patton was. “Perhaps I have been a little overly engrossed in understanding him,” Logan finally sighed. “At first, at least. Although I do maintain that my notes are invaluable data.”

Roman figured that this was about as close as he would get to Logan admitting he was wrong about this. He’d take it for now, if only because he didn’t want to keep arguing. He slipped the little notebook into his inside jacket pocket, ignoring the hurt look Logan gave him at the action. “Let’s just have lunch.”

…

Lunch was a somewhat tense affair.

Patton seemed to pick up on it, probably from Logan’s part. Roman was using his usual cheerful, gentle tone towards the “mouse-man”, looking for all the world as if nothing was wrong. Logan sometimes forgot how good of an actor Roman was.

Logan himself, meanwhile, was only picking at his spaghetti. He was doing his best to act normally, too, but it was difficult.

After a while of mostly being left out of the conversation—which was, admittedly, more just Roman speaking and Patton occasionally nodding or saying a single quiet word in response than an actual conversation—he heard Roman say, “I hope you don’t mind if I leave early. I have a meeting to go to, unfortunately.” Roman stood up, empty bowl in one hand. He looked apologetic. “I’ll be back later tonight,” he promised. And he left.

With Roman gone, a little of the tension Logan felt was lifted. The college student shifted, setting his half-finished bowl of spaghetti on his lap. He looked over at the small being before him, the impossibly small person. He was still eating, his actions guarded as always.

“We’ll have to get some more suitable dishware soon,” Logan commented when Patton was almost done eating, trying to be conversational and get rid of the awkwardness from earlier. Patton had his fork, yes, but they only had so many bottlecaps. And other forms of dishware would be easier to clean than something with so many grooves.

…

Patton glanced up when the human spoke, his fork pausing halfway between the bottlecap and his mouth. Logan looked thoughtful.

“Perhaps Roman and I could purchase some doll furniture tomorrow.”

Patton dropped his fork. It landed at the side of the bottlecap with a quiet tink that Patton barely heard.

“—tton?” Logan’s voice said above him.

Patton’s gaze very slowly rose to Logan’s face. He could feel his heart thudding, pounding like a frantic drum in his chest.

….

Logan jolted in alarm as the tiny person suddenly shot to his feet and darted away from him, his gait unsteady but hurried.

Except… there was nowhere to run. Patton was still on top of a table. “Where are you—?”

Logan got up quickly. Patton had staggered to the other side of the table; but trapped and clearly without a plan, he turned back to hide behind a stack of books that sat near the cage.

Logan took a split-second pause before he slowly lowered himself to be eye-level with the stack of books. “Patton?” he called very softly. “Did I do something wrong?”

There was a long silence. Patton stayed hidden. Logan didn’t move, knowing he needed a gentler touch.

“Please—I want to help, but I don’t know how I have upset you. If you tell me, I’ll know not to do it again.”

“I’m not a doll!” Patton suddenly cried out, still hidden.

“I know that,” Logan said, baffled. “Why would I believe you to be one?”

“I—I’m not a d-doll, I’m a—I’m a person.”

“No one here believes you to be a doll,” Logan affirmed calmly, although his mind was racing. He didn’t like the implications that this development had for what Patton might have been through before they found him. Of he and his roommate, Logan was the less creative, but his imagination was quickly supplying ideas of what truly traumatic experiences could have caused such a knee-jerk reaction, such terror, at the mere idea of being seen as a doll.

But what had set Patton off? Logan thought about what had happened right before the “mouse-man” took off. He’d only been talking about potential dishware for Patton.

…About potentially using doll furniture for it.

Ah.

“My apologies, Patton,” the college student said, and he truly was apologetic. “It was not my intention to upset you. You can stay hidden if you so desire. I won’t force you to come out. However, you still have more food over here if you want it. It is important for you to maintain your caloric intake, especially during your recovery.”

There was still no sign that the tiny person was going to come out any time soon.

Logan wasn’t sure what to do here. Part of him wanted to leave, let Patton come out and eat on his own while he was gone, but in his current emotional state Logan couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t try another escape attempt. Especially while as panicked as he was, such an attempt could end very badly for Patton.

“Patton,” Logan said softly, trying again. “I would never treat you as a doll. Neither would Roman. We know that you are an intelligent, sentient being and would not wish you to be otherwise. You are free to be yourself, I swear.”

Logan could see Patton’s fingertips, curled around the edge of one of the books. He decided to wait.

After a few minutes, Patton reemerged, still more than half-hidden by the books, but visible now.

Logan glanced at him, but didn’t hold eye contact, as he knew that that might come across as intimidating. He just continued to wait hopefully.

“You—you’re really not going to make me… make me be a doll?”

“I promise.”

“But… but you still won’t let me go.”

Logan sighed. “The only reason we are keeping you here is because you are not well enough to be alone. As soon as you are well enough, you may leave. Roman and I are doing all we can to make you as comfortable as possible. If you have any requests, all you have to do is ask. If we are doing something wrong, inadvertently making you uncomfortable in some way, all you have to do is let us know.”

There was a long silence after Logan finished speaking. Then Patton closed his eyes tightly for a second, as if steeling himself; and despite how much he was trembling, he deliberately approached the human. He settled himself by his food again, only marginally further from Logan than he had been before.

Logan couldn’t keep the relief from his face as he and Patton resumed their meal.

…

“I request that you return my notebook,” Logan said as soon as Roman walked through the door.

Roman shot him a glare, but he seemed too tired to argue, so he just took the notebook out of his jacket pocket and threw it at Logan, who barely managed to catch it.

“I’m going to take a nap.”

“Roman, wait,” Logan said as Roman started to walk away. “Would you at least read what I have written before you judge me so harshly?”

“I already did,” Roman said pointedly, facing away from him. “You know that.”

“All of it?”

“What do you mean, all of it?”

Logan opened his notebook, taking a pen out of his pocket. He flipped to the page he wanted, and he marked something down in bold letters. Then, he flipped through the rest of the pages, exaggerating how loudly he turned each one, knowing Roman could hear him doing so. Roman turned around. He held out his hand, his expression hard.

Logan handed it over and watched as Roman leafed through it, scanning over each page.

“I was never going to publish anything,” Logan said quietly. “You do know that, correct? I assure you, although I may have been excited at the discovery of Patton at first in a more purely scientific sense, over the past few days, as I learned more about him and realized that he contains a sentience on par with that of ourselves, my concern has grown more and more to be solely for his well-being. The other notes and observations I recorded will never be given to others, and I will never treat him as anything other than a person.”

…

Roman read through the notebook, his eyebrows drawn together. After the page Roman had seen with the sketch, measurements, and physiological observations, were various additional pages labeled things like ‘Diet’ (he noted the underlined phrase ‘very fond of cheese’), ‘Health’ (here were noted Patton’s injuries, symptoms that Logan had noticed, and how they were improving), and ‘Topics and Behaviors to Avoid’. Roman stopped at that last one. Logan had listed, in neat bullet points, things that might make Patton uncomfortable or scared. The list included ‘grabbing’, ‘yelling or loud speech’, ‘prolonged eye contact’, as well as numerous other points. At the end, in ink that had barely dried, was a single word in capitalized, bolded letters: ‘DOLLS’.

Roman looked up to see Logan watching him in silence. He handed back the notebook.

“Okay. So maybe you haven’t been treating him like a lab rat,” he relented. “But why write ‘dolls’? Could you explain that to me?”

Logan glanced towards the other room, as if worried that Patton might have overheard their whispered argument.

“Certainly.”

...

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#sanders sides #thomas sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #infinitesimal!sides #sanders sides fan fiction #ts fanfic #fanfiction #infinitesimal fic #g/t

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flyaway-33 · 6 years

Text

I’ll Take Care of You

Pairing: Roger x American Reader

Summary: Roger comes down with the stomach flu but insists on playing the show anyway, so you are tasked with dealing with him. All fluff with a very tiny bit of sexual innuendo. (Reader is American due to the nicknames she uses and for a little fluff detail)

Warnings: Vomiting, illness

Disclaimer: This is complete fiction and has absolutely no affiliation with any characters or content mentioned.

A/N: I’m very new to this site and have never written anything for Queen before so if anyone reads this, please please send me some feedback, I would love to hear what you think!

“Rog, honey, wake up. The boys are waiting for you to go to sound check!” You shook him gently, trying to wake him from the deep slumber he’d been in since you both went to bed earlier this morning around 5 am. It had been a long night in more ways than one but you had to get him up because the other members of the band couldn’t do sound check without him, especially Freddie, who’s throat was worn raw from the back to back shows they’d had all week. He relied on Roger to pick up the notes he couldn’t hit, which this late in the leg of a tour was most of them.

Roger groaned, squeezing his eyes tighter and grimacing as his body curled into a fetal position. That is when you noticed the beads of sweat forming on his brow and that all the color had drained from his face.

All of a sudden his eyes snapped open and he bolted toward the bathroom. You heard the painful retching and your heart sank, confused. He couldn’t possibly be that hungover, he’d only had a few drinks and he normally held his liquor well. You two had left the after party around 2 am which was relatively early, and had spent the rest of that time entertaining each other.

You padded to the bathroom and knelt behind him, gathering his hair into your hand. You winced, feeling that it was already too late for his hair and you gently slid the hair tie off of your wrist and wound his mop into a messy pile at the back of his head.

“You’re alright, Rog. Easy does it.” You cooed as you rubbed his back. He spit several times and then dragged the back of his hand across his mouth as he got to his feet. On shaking legs he made his way to the sink and splashed water on his face. He looked like something the cat had dragged in. “Are you okay?” You asked cautiously, joining him in front of the mirror.

“I feel like hell.” He croaked weakly, fumbling around for his toothbrush.

“Are you going to be able to play tonight?”

He looked at you as though you had five heads. “I don’t have much of a choice now, do I? Queen can’t up and cancel a show because the drummer came down with a little bug.” He turned away from you, trying to focus on brushing his teeth but he gagged at the taste.

“But honey, your role is physically demanding and you’re going to have to cover a lot for Freddie. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea, babe.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I don’t have a choice. You don’t think I can do it, do you?” You could hear in his voice that he was deeply offended.

“Sorry to burst your bubble but quite frankly I’m not so sure if you can.” You crossed your arms over your chest in defiance.

“I’ll be fine.” He spat through gritted teeth.

“Okay, babe,” you were used to arguing and you knew there was no point trying to convince him. “You need to at least let Crystal know so he isn’t caught by surprise when you’re extra whiny tonight.”

“I am not whiny!”

“You’re whining!” You laughed flippantly and traipsed away back into the bedroom. “Take a shower, your hair is sticky. And hurry up!”

You set out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for him for soundcheck and got yourself ready for the day, pulling your own hair up into a messy bun and throwing on one of Roger’s t-shirts from the last tour. You had stolen it from him and cut it into an edgy v-neck. You knew with your exposed collar bone and teasing hint of cleavage it drove him wild on you, and you hoped it might improve his mood even just for a bit. Even if you were hell bent on verbally teasing him and returning every bit of his sass, you knew the unspoken things were what counted. You two shared the love language of actions, not words.

Roger came out of the bathroom ten minutes later looking like he wanted to curl up and die. He had the towel wrapped around his shoulders and he shuddered as he entered the chilly air of the bedroom. He was white as a ghost and he immediately sat down on the bed and leaned forward to hang his head in his hands.

“Rog, honey, look at me,” you sighed, kneeling in front of him. You reached up and placed your hands on his cheeks, raising his head up out of his hands. Your worry spiked as you looked into his deep blue eyes, made more intense by his fever. “You’re burning up. Are sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” He grunted straightening up and looking away.

“We need to go we’re already 20 minutes late. The boys are going to be pissed.” You knew you had to let him do what he wanted no matter how much you worried.

He nodded wordlessly and stood to get dressed, making sure to slip his favorite pair of prescription sunglasses over his eyes and his Marlboro Red jacket over the plain white t-shirt. Five minutes later you were holding on to Roger’s arm, walking out to the parking lot where the rest of the band stood at the bus, seething.

“Oi mate! What the hell?” Brian shouted, approaching the two of you and meeting you half way. “Its half passed four! We were supposed to start sound check right now!” He got right up in front of Roger and, to your surprise, shoved him, hard.

“Get the fuck off me!” Roger cried in alarm as he stumbled backward.

“What the hell, Bri?!” You yelled, clinging to Roger’s arm for dear life to steady him. You knew he would normally fight back but he was weakened by his state.

“Okay everyone calm down.” Freddie jogged over and grabbed Brian’s arm, spinning him around back toward the bus. “Fighting won’t help, let’s just go. Roger, are you alright?”

“For fuck’s sake I didn’t push him that hard!” Brian growled as Freddie pushed him toward the bus.

“I’m not asking him because of that, and if you weren’t so worked up over something so petty as being late to sound check you would see that something is obviously wrong with our dear drummer.”

“What?” Brian glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, he’s just hungover as usual.” He rolled his eyes, facing forward again.

“I was in bed before any of you last night, for your information.” Roger seethed. “You can just ask Y/N, she was—“

“Do not finish that sentence.” You spat sharply, slapping his shoulder.

“I think I’ve just come down with something,” he continued, “but it’s not a big deal. I can play the show and we’ll be fine.”

“You bet your ass we’ll be fine.” Brian climbed in the bus first, leaving the rest of the boys and you to find seats far away from him.

You sat on Roger’s lap for the short ride to the venue and leaned against his chest, feeling his warmth. He held on to you for comfort with his chin resting on your shoulder. “Babe, do you need anything before sound check?” You asked as the car pulled up at the back entrance.

“Nah, I’m alright, doll. I’ll see ya when we’re done.” He leaned in and kissed your cheek and placed his hands on your hips to guide you off of his lap, then followed you out and went inside the venue with the boys. You spotted the roadies taking a smoke break a few yards away and jogged over to them.

“Hey! How are you, girlie?” Chris “Crystal” Taylor, Roger’s personal roadie/assistant cheered, reaching up and smacking your messy bun playfully.

“Hey, Crystal. Look I know Rog won’t tell you, so I will. He is sick as a dog right now and during the show I just need you to keep an eye on him.”

“Aw man, how sick?” He asked, tossing his cigarette butt to the ground and stepping on it.

“He threw up this morning and won’t eat. He has to have a fever, too but I haven’t had the chance to find a thermometer and take his temperature. I’m just worried he’ll overexert himself tonight. He’s really not well.”

“Of course I’ll keep an eye out for him, it’s my job, and I won’t say anything to him. I know how he can get.”

“Thanks, Chris.” You smiled and patted his shoulder in gratitude.

Just then you heard the boom of the base from the venue and smiled. “I guess thats our cue.”

You and the roadies hurried into the backstage area and watched from the wings. Freddie was fiddling with the piano, Brian was tuning his red special, and Deaky was strumming away a bass riff in his own little world. Roger was glowering at his drums as he loosened the snare and tested it. His sickly appearance was emphasized in the harsh stage lights. They’d barely started and he was already pouring sweat. He looked miserable.

“Right then. Extra towels tonight.” Chris chuckled, noticing at the same time. “You’re right he looks dreadful.” Chris disappeared from your side and reappeared a minute later behind the drum riser, armed with a towel and a water bottle.

Watching sound check was near torture for you seeing how miserable Roger looked, but he played as well as ever and everything sounded great. There were surprisingly no arguments, which was a near miracle, except for the fact that you knew the reason was that Roger didn’t have the energy to fight. Seconds after they’d called quits on soundcheck, he was no where to be found. Realizing this, you jogged around to the back hallway, frantically searching for where he may be. You nearly ran right into him as he exited the mens bathroom.

“Roger! Oh I was worried—“

“Were you now? I’m fine, darling. No need to worry.” He caught you by the tops of your arms and squeezed your shoulders gently in reassurance. He gave a weak smile and you looked closely at him, examining his features and trying desperately to read him.

“You threw up again, didn’t you.” You stated and his face fell.

“Look it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does, Rog. You’re sick and you’re not helping yourself.” You glared at him but felt guilty as you watched his expression change. He looked like he was going to cry and it made you uneasy. “Okay, fine, come on you need to rest and take a nap before the show.” You took his hand and started toward the dressing room.

“I need a shower.” He groaned as you pulled him down onto one of the sofas.

“You’re fine, babe, you’re only going to get sweaty again. Come here.” You pulled him to rest his head on your chest and laid back on the sofa with him, stroking his damp hair in attempt to soothe him. It took a few minutes but you eventually felt him relax into sleep. You continued to play with his hair as you watched him. It was insane how you had fallen so hard and fast for this man, and looking down at his thick eyelashes and perfect lips made you want to hold him forever. You were his American Girl and he was your Rockstar and your heart ached knowing how miserable he felt.

You reminisced on the night the two of you had met and then first dated. you had met him in a bar in Nashville, not realizing that he was famous, and he had worked hard to charm you all night. He had seemed deeply disappointed when you turned down going back to his hotel room at closing time. “I dunno, hun, your chances might be better if you try the right way.” You teased him as you stood to leave, seeing the confusion in his eyes.

“Er, alright. Could I at least have your number, then?” He had looked up at you from his barstool with those enormous, pleading pools of blue and your heart had melted but you managed to keep your composure.

“That’s a good boy.” You leaned down to peck him on the lips and slipped a folded piece of paper with your name and number written in your swirly handwriting, and he was smitten.

Your first date found the two of you on a drive to Centennial park late on a warm summer evening. You had packed a picnic dinner and Roger had picked you up in a rented Mercedes convertible. You had talked all night about your dreams and plans, and you were shocked to learn that this little British boy was a drummer in a world famous band. A band you yourself even knew of! You realized you had never paid attention to their looks, let alone expect to have been hitting on one of them in a seedy bar downtown. He seemed to appreciate that you weren’t easy and that you weren’t influenced by his fame, and he was oddly attracted to that. He hadn’t ever had a mind to those characteristics before meeting you.

It was well into the night when he suggested just driving around, and you agreed. You showed him the best rock stations and the two of you had been discussing music tastes and favorites when the opening guitar riff of “American Girl” by Tom Petty began to blare through the speakers. “Oh this is my favorite song!” You had yelped, dialing the speakers up louder than necessary. Both of you sang along together and you basked in the uniqueness of his voice and how your own complimented it. When you had glanced up at him he had a goofy grin that showed you just how much fun he was having, and you felt the same way.

He’d been in Nashville for a week and you had seen him every day. When it came time to leave to continue the tour, he asked you to come.

“Y/N, I can’t bear the thought of never seeing you again.”

“You’ll see me, Rog I’m sure of it. People do long distance all the time.”

“Is that what you want? Long distance?”

“I mean what other option is there, just calling whatever this is a fling and moving on? Because I definitely do not want to do that.”

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“I mean it come with me. You’re my American Girl and I don’t want to go without you. I’ve never felt this way before about anyone.”

His confession melted your heart and you agreed on the spot. You were a drifter, out of university, and didn’t have a home or a job to return to. Your parents called you crazy, but you left with your rockstar anyway and never looked back. The rest was history and here you were taking care of him on tour just four months later and you had never been happier.

The boys barged in about 20 minutes after Roger had fallen asleep and you hissed angrily as they spilled into the room. “Boys!” You protested.

“Oh look at sleeping beauty here,” Freddie cooed. “Shall we give him a kiss to wake him?”

“Couldn’t we leave him be for just a bit?” You whispered looking down at his sweet sleeping face, wishing you could pause this moment forever.

Freddie looked at his watch. “Get him up in 20 minutes. We have to make him look presentable.”

“Okay.” You breathed, smiling at the feeling of Roger’s hair as you dragged your fingers through it. You were making him fluffy and you loved how sweet he looked.

The boys tried to keep quiet as they moved about the dressing room, picking out their outfits and applying makeup and copious amounts of hairspray.

Thirty minutes passed before Freddie glared at you and you realized you were ten minutes late waking Roger. You gently squeezed his shoulder and whispered his name until his eyes fluttered open.

“Hey, honey. Feel better?”

He shook his head and frowned. “How long til showtime?”

“An hour.” Freddie barked. “Warm up group is on in 10.”

“Shit.” Roger said getting off of you and hurrying to the clothing rack. “We gotta warm up, Fred.” He grumbled as he picked out his outfit. He decided on all white.

You observed for the hour as the boys got themselves ready. Roger had nearly thrown a fit when he couldn’t find a set of drumsticks to warm up with, but he seemed much calmer when Chris found him a pair. Rog and Freddie had their near ritualistic screeching match to warm up their voices, and Roger tapped on everything in sight with his drumsticks as per usual. When it came time to go out, he looked expectantly at Chris who handed him his usual bottle of scotch. Roger poured two shots and stared at them nervously. You knew it was his good luck superstition to take two shots of scotch before the show but you could tell the thought of it made him nauseous. He closed his eyes and shot them down quickly. Gagging slightly much to everyone’s surprise. He’d never gagged on alcohol that any of them could remember. He shuddered and joined the boys as they filed out, twirling his drumsticks and getting into game mode. You followed them out and went with Chris to stand backstage behind the drum riser. He had laid out three water bottles and several towels for Roger and he looked rather tense as Roger finally made his way over after having a brief chat with one of the sound techs.

Freddie’s voice boomed over the roar of the crowd to introduce the band and Roger climbed up onto his drum stool. You found a monitor slightly to the side of the riser, hidden in the back to sit on and perched yourself atop it with a perfect view of him.

The first few songs went really well. And after the first two he signaled Chris for a water bottle and downed the entire thing in one go.

Roger was playing excellently but he looked absolutely beat. You held your breath as he had to execute the flawless transition between Killer Queen and I’m in Love with My Car and sing the entire song. He was amazing, of course but you could just hear the strain in his voice, though you were certain it was only because you knew him so well. You watched as sweat poured down his face and he spat aggressively between lines. You had no idea why he the drummer had written such a drum heavy song that he was always to sing while drumming. It just blew your mind how talented he was. Nearing the end if the song you watched his expression change from frustration to panic and you were on the edge of your seat. As the song came to an end he hit the cymbals to signal the others of the end and immediately spun around on his stool and vomited off the back of the riser. Your heart broke for him and you went to go to him but one of the roadies caught your arm and held you back as Crystal rushed to him with a towel and another water. You watched him with tears in your eyes and he straightened up and dragged the towel down his face in exhaustion and with shaking hands took the top off the bottle and took tiny sips. “Atta boy, Rog.” You said to yourself, knowing the smaller sips would help.

The whole ordeal was over in just seconds and he was back to facing the audience as if nothing had happened at all. As you looked out over the stage from your hidden perch you realized that the boys didn’t know what had just happened and were setting up for Love of My Life and ‘39, another physically demanding song. He had to stomp on the single bass drum and play the tambourine all while hitting his flawless falsetto. Luckily Love of My Life was first for transition purposes and was a little bit of a break for him as all he had to do was set up his drum.

He went to his mic stand next to Brian and appeared as if he hadn’t just been puking his guts out just moments ago. He put on an impressive poker face and sang his backing vocals so beautifully for Love of My Life it made you swoon.

‘39 was your favorite song of theirs and you would normally get lost in the sound of Roger’s drum synched perfectly with Deaky’s bass and Brian’s 12 string, but tonight just the thought of watching Roger standing up front and center on the stage performing that difficult song made you feel sick. Brian strummed a little riff on his 12 string as a little transition then flashed a dazzling smile at the crowd to introduce the song, immediately immersing himself in it. You smiled when Roger did his signature “yeehaw!” You were able to relax as you listened to him start the bass beat in perfect time, and you closed your eyes to enjoy your favorite song. You couldn’t see much of the band from where you were anyway.

Roger’s “woo!” At the end with Freddie’s “all right!” snapped you out of your trance and you smiled as Roger jogged back to the riser. He’s made it through the most difficult parts of the concert and everything was going well despite his backstage setback. The last few songs went by quickly and after the bows Rog came straight to you, exhaustion all over his face. You hopped off the monitor and reached out for him, bringing him into your arms. You sat back on the monitor and pulled him half onto your lap, cradling his head to your chest. He was soaked and burning hotter than you’d ever felt a person. “You did so well, babe.” Your voice was thick with pride as you rocked him gently out of instinct.

He had his eyes closed and let out a great sight. “I told you I could do it.” He croaked.

“I know, I know. And I’m glad you did.”

“Ugh whats that smell?” You heard Brian bark as the other three band members joined you backstage.

“Uhh, Rog, did you do that?” Deaky asked, pointing toward the puddle of sick behind the riser.

He opened his eyes and looked to see what Deaky was talking about. “Oh, yeah, I guess I did.”

“When?” Freddie asked, concern laced in his voice.

“Uhh, just after my car song I believe.” Roger chuckled nonchalantly.

“Well shit.” Freddie laughed. “Go clean yourself up, darling. You need to rest.”

“You’re telling me.” Roger got to his feet and you could see him visibly shaking. You jumped up and grasped his arm to support him. You couldn’t believe he had just done a nearly two hour concert playing arguably the most demanding role in the band while he was barely able to walk. You were so proud of him but also so incredibly frustrated. You wished you could have done something to allow him to rest instead of play, but the band was his life and you knew he would never let Queen down as long as he lived.

“We’re taking a bath and going straight to sleep. You need plenty of water and rest.”

“Too bad we have to be up at bloody 5 am to get on the bus.” He spat bitterly.

Part two

#roger taylor fic #roger x reader #queen fic #fluff

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chromium-siren · 5 years

Text

Nightingale (Part 4)

(A/N: After writer’s block, I can finally continue the story! Yaaaay! Also, a big thank you to @kyber-hearts-and-stardust-souls for helping me with ways to continue the story!)

TW: bomb threat.

PHASMA

Brendol’s visit brought us some reassurance, but of course, we didn’t know who to trust. What if Brendol was still working for Vader? No, that probably wouldn’t be reasonable, especially since I literally just met him today. Nonetheless, Hux and I waited for that Tuesday Brendol said he would arrive with the equipment.

The days seemed to inch by, almost as if some higher power was intent on tormenting me- a fact made obvious by the nightmares I was beginning to have about Vader. He would loom above me holding a machete, a sadistic grin twisted on his face, or I would watch him set fire to Nightingale packed to the gills with patrons. Just as soon as he was about to push me into the flames, I woke up in a cold sweat to the sound of my alarm and Pudge’s concerned meows.

“It’s okay, Pudgelet, Maman had a nightmare,” I cooed, gently petting him as I looked at my phone lockscreen. It was a picture I took of Hux, one of him in deep thought with his sax across his lap- until I took note of the day. Tuesday. It was here. Brendol was supposed to meet us at the club to set up the cameras at around four, which meant there was just enough time for me to prepare everything (mainly my costume) for Friday’s ball. Immediately, I slid my finger across the lockscreen and texted Hux.

[txt]: today’s the day brendol comes

[txt- Armie]: four o’clock, right?

[txt]: yes. set up and everything, maybe a tech rehearsal

[txt]: is your costume ready?

[txt-Armie]: working on it. making white tie look like a mess is tough.

[txt- Armie]: also, fake blood and saxophones don’t mix. I think I ruined a mouthpiece.

[txt]: ditch the blood or put it somewhere else?

[txt-Armie]: probably. see you, love.

[txt]: xoxo

Sighing contently, I made my way downstairs to have breakfast, feeling the satisfaction that we might as well be getting our revenge on Vader soon enough. Or so I hoped...

HUX

Life at the law firm went on as usual- meetings, marking sheet music, Krennic looking like his usual shifty self. Hold up- Krennic being shifty? This was new, even for me. Hesitantly, I stood outside his office door, expecting to hear music- instead, I heard a frantic phone conversation.

“It’s at seven p.m., but we can afford to be fashionably late. Yes, Nightingale. I have all the information, I picked it up a while ago. Do I have to come in- oh, fine, it is a Halloween Ball anyway. I figure I’ll wear the cape. Yes, I’ll see you then. Thank you.” The phone hung up and I heard footsteps. Immediately assuming the worst, I tried to get away as soon as possible. Almost luckily, Krennic made his way out of his office in the opposite direction. But I was still so nervous, that when my phone vibrated, I almost yelped in shock. Looking down, I noticed it was my dad. Thank the Maker.

[txt- Brendol]: Just checked into my hotel, will be at Nightingale at four. Athena reminded the staff ahead of time.

[txt]: Thank you, dad. See you then.

I put my phone away, but not before reminding myself about the meeting at four.

“Adelaide?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’ll be leaving a bit early today for, um... an appointment.”

“Noted,” she said, typing away at her laptop. Obviously I couldn’t say what I was doing, otherwise someone would hear and get suspicious. At around three or so, I got out of my chair, shut down my computer, and made a beeline for my car. Within a few minutes or so, I was at Nightingale, facing my father. I noticed Kylo and Poe were there as well, they had explained that they were volunteering as wait staff to help catch Vader in the act.

"Okay, everyone, thank you for coming ahead of time. As some of you know, Nightingale is in trouble- Vader wants to take control of the club in the name of some Emperor," Brendol said. "We'll need to set up cameras throughout the club, because we'll have evidence to send Vader to jail. Sound good?" Everyone nodded and got straight to work setting up the cameras. For a while, I glanced at Finn, the staff supervisor and our maitre d', stealing a kiss with Rey, our tech person.

"Will you two be at the ball?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm letting Thannison have maitre d' duties so Rey and I can go on a proper date," he said before whispering in my ear. "I'm also hoping I'll propose to her, Maker willing."

"Good luck," I said, smiling at him as we both placed and set up cameras, making sure to keep them in inconspicuous places. But little did we know, we were being watched.

PHASMA

After preparation, rehearsals, and all that jazz, the Halloween Ball finally came. Thursday's technical rehearsal went off without a hitch, and it was relieving to know the lights (and cameras) worked properly. As for me, I made sure my ghostly flapper costume looked fabulous- and it did. A white dress I found was tattered and stained with dirt and blood, with a high enough slit showing one of my garters- and the skeletal leg! At the center of my feather headband, instead of a jewel, there was a skull, and a strand of black pearls made for a fabulous lavaliere rather than the classic white pearls. But what I prided myself on was my makeup- I had made my face look pale, and painted my eyes and cheeks to look sunken in, and topped it off with a ruby red pout.

The team was also ready for the evening, made obvious by their elaborate costumes- Rose wore an elaborate steampunk ball gown, Poe was dressed as a goth, Kylo wore hippie togs, Thannison wore an elegant pirate's costume, and Mitaka was dressed as the Phantom of the Opera. Now, I knew Hux and I looked good in our zombie Jazz Age couple costume, but Finn and Rey certainly took the cake. Rey's arms were wrapped in gauze, and a bejeweled white dress shimmered in the faint light. Next to her was Finn, a mighty pharaoh who commanded respect. Right next to Thannison was a skeleton toting a double bass, as well as Frankenstein's monster with a guitar. Along with a wolfman with a trumpet, an evil clown on trombone, and a ghost on drums, Hux introduced them to me as friends from a band back in his college days who would be accompanying us. I was glad to see everyone present, but I worried about Brendol. Why was he running late? Hux then took me aside, still looking handsome in his destroyed white tie and tails.

"My dad will be here in a minute or so, darling, so don't worry," he said, gently placing a kiss on my pale forehead. Like a miracle from God, Brendol's car pulled up to the curb and stopped. He emerged from the car with a bow, wearing an elegant baroque ensemble that would make him the envy of the Sun King or any other monarch.

"Forgive my lateness, but thank you all for arriving on time," he said with a nod. "Now, waitstaff," he said, turning to Rose, Poe, Kylo, and Thannison, "you are equipped with pens that can record conversations, which would come in handy when around anyone that seems suspicious. But remember, this is no easy task since everyone will be in costume."

"Understood," Rose said.

"Rey, you and Finn are our spies. Both of you have hidden microphones and cameras in your costumes, so as you mill around, you'll be taking pictures discreetly by touching the red gem on your collars." Both of them nodded. Brendol explained the rest of the plan to the staff as I made double adjustments to the cameras hidden within the plants. "Very well then, are we all prepared?" Brendol asked. Everyone nodded in agreement as we all got ready for the ball to begin. "Wonderful. I'll be helping tend bar ut needed. Best of luck, everyone," he said, as we all walked into Nightingale. All the staff (including Pudge, our resident mouse catcher) was equipped with cameras to see if anything suspicious was going on. Once the ball ends, we would probably be sifting through footage to see if anything of interest popped up.

I sat at my vanity, warming up my voice and putting on the last of my ghostly makeup when I heard a slight jingle and the sound of Hux's shoes tapping on the floor. The door then creaked gently open, and Hux appeared before me, his white tie and tails destroyed and covered in dirt and fake blood. His face was painted pale green and adorned with nasty looking scars, and a biohazard symbol was “etched” into his forehead. Hanging from his neck strap was an alto sax that looked like it had seen better days, the shine gone from Hux playing it so often. Despite that, I smiled sweetly at him. “You look dapper.”

"It's almost time," he told me, offering me his arm as Pudge nudged my leg, his black bowtie collar jingling merrily. I walked out onto the dark stage, the audience silent as corpses (ha, ha), waiting for what I had in store for them. I nodded at one of the backstage technicians, and he began to play a custom CD we had made for the beginning of the concert. With help from Hux's co-worker Kylo, we made a perfect voiceover welcoming out guests to the ball. Now an ominous voice boomed throughout the club, startling many of the patrons (I swore I even heard a few screams!).

Welcome, foolish mortals, to the Gory Twenties. Blood flows like bootleg liquor, the jazz is hotter than Hell, and the dead walk the Earth once more. There is no escape from this possessed speakeasy- no one has survived to make it out and tell the tale! Keep your wits about you, otherwise you may be cursed to remain in this prison forever among restless flappers and murderous mafiosos! Like we said, there's no way out!

Psychotic laughter, followed by ghostly sounds played over the loudspeakers, along with clanking chains and cries of desperation. All was silent as a fog rolled across the stage. Then my disembodied voice rang out.

Those fingers in my hair/That sly come hither stare/That strips my conscience bare/Ooh, it's witchcraft...

The lights go up, and we are revealed with wild applause to the audience, creatures of the night welcoming our victims to an Art Deco bloodbath. I sang on, scanning the audience for some sign of Vader, but there was no gas mask in sight. During the bridge, I did my usual routine- flirt with Hux and anyone else in the audience, vocalize a little, and do a sultry dance in place. It was during this that Rose gave us a confirmed sighting.

"He's here. Do you see the mobster guy in the white cape?" she asked. I silently replied, making sure to step away from the microphone. "That's where Vader is sitting. I'll notify Brendol and the others ASAP. Tell Hux." I slid close to Hux, whispering in his ear about the bad news while Mitaka played a solo.

"Mafiosos, over at table twenty," I said, and then that was when I noticed his face turn pale as a sheet.

"Krennic."

"What?"

"The man in the white cape is Krennic. I know him, and I hate that bastard," he said angrily. "I have the great misfortune of him being my co-worker."

"Should Kylo investigate him?"

"I would think so, but he'll have to use a fine-toothed comb to go through it all." Mitaka cleared his throat at us, and that signaled me to start singing again, all the while shooting death glares at Krennic.

HUX

I was angry. Angry at myself for telling Krennic, angry at Krennic for having the gall to show up, and angry in general because I had an untrustworthy co-worker I had confided in who would probably betray me! Nonetheless, the police were called, and would be on their way to, eventually, remedy the situation. But for the time being, nobody did anything suspicious or out of the ordinary, and the performance went off without a hitch- the crowd loved it!

Despite our situation, we were having a good time and the patrons enjoyed themselves. The fun kept going when one of the other musicians handed Phasma his trombone. Knowing the direction this was taking, she smiled and laughed- as did I.

“I only have experience with piano, ukulele, harp, and some percussion so I’d like to apologize for this trombone concerto,” she said with a joking smile. “Armie, will you accompany me and make this a duet?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Yes indeed, my love,” I announced, readying my alto sax with great ceremony. Both of us nodded at the drummer, who picked up a woodblock. The drummer began tapping out a light beat on the woodblock, keeping time. Phasma flashed a dainty smile, and raised the trombone to her lips. What followed was something that sounded like a Wookiee getting in a fight with a porg- I was the porg. From my spot, I could see that despite her lack of trombone experience, Phasma was having fun and getting into it. Inspired by her, I got into it as well, punctuating her notes with trills, awkward squawks, and glissandos, even adding an altissimo scream. I played the part of the stereotypical cool jazz musician, lifting my saxophone up, swinging it forwards and back, and swaying it from side to side with every crappy note we played. Phasma and I played our final sour notes, and the woodblock assumed the role of the metronome one last time. The audience applauded (either because it was funny or out of relief-maybe both) as I bowed and she curtsied, an angelic smile dancing on her face. She handed the trombone back to the original owner, a faint ring of lipstick on the mouthpiece.

“And for my next performance, I will attempt to play Armie’s sax,” she said jokingly, as I dramatically clutched the alto to my chest.

“Oh no you won’t!” I joked, and she laughed in response.

“Just kidding! I can't play it anyway," she replied, kissing my cheek gently. “Now we’re going to be a bit more serious for this number,” she said, lowering her voice an octave or so, perching on a bar stool. In her ruined white flapper dress, crystals and sequins glittering, she looked like a dove, but also like an angel. None of the other musicians played as I closed my eyes and played a slow, yearning (and in tune) melody. Like she tended to do during these sensual numbers, she closed her eyes and did a breathy hum before beginning the lyrics. The others joined in as I played a sensual phrase just as soon as she lifted her eyes and sang.

“The moon was all aglow, and heaven was in your eyes/The night that you told me/Those little white lies…” Just then, she stopped short and let out an audible gasp of fear. Standing in the foyer of the bar, looming like monsters in a bad dream, the mafiosos stood, smirking. In a stark black pinstriped suit, Vader stepped forward, dark glasses making him look even more sinister than he was.

"Lovely ball you've put together, Miss Phasma," he intoned.

"You don't belong here, the police are on their way," Phasma hissed.

"Not anymore," Vader argued. "We've brought you a gift." Krennic stepped forward, holding one of the cameras, and proceeded to pour his expensive glass of champagne on it, dropping it to the floor. It sparked like crazy, and burst into flames as Brendol ran forward with a fire extinguisher.

"You won't get away, Vader!" Brendol hissed, as they laughed viciously.

"I believe we have, and for that, your deadline got shorter and shorter. You have until the first of December to scrape up that ransom money. We'll be watching," Vader said, but not without leaving a suspicious box on his table. Immediately, I whipped out my cell phone.

"I need the police."

PHASMA

With that, Vader left the club, along with his goons. I looked nervously at the box, which began to tick ominously, fearful for what might happen. Police sirens wailed, and a squad car as well as the bomb squad showed up just in time.

My mind immediately went to Vader and Krennic. how somehow, he must have known- or someone had tipped him off. Who could I trust? After all, Vader wasn’t just a threat to Nightingale, but to the town as well. And frankly, not knowing what his plans were scared me. Desperately, I looked at the anxious crowd, my eyes meeting Brendol’s. I thought I was being paranoid when I assumed that Vader might have placed something like a bomb in the club, but the box confirmed my fears. In the best interest of the patrons (and because one of the police officers advised me to do so), I decided they would have to evacuate for their own safety.

“Ladies and gentlemen, due to safety reasons, we’ll have to end the celebration earlier than we expected.” I awaited the boos and demand for refunds, but no one said a word. Sure, there were a few groans of disappointment, but those were halted by firm words.

“Last call for drinks!” Thannison said, getting into his role of a Caribbean pirate, and a steady stream of people made their way to the bar, hoping to get in a last drink order before the fun would have to end. Immediately, I had an idea. I whispered something to Mitaka, and he played a longing piano line. The bassist and drummer picked up the tune, and Hux played a wistful tenor moan. Bowing my head and closing my eyes, I took a breath and sang into the microphone.

“I’ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places…” The party atmosphere slowly dissipated, thanks in part to Vader’s surprise appearance, and all that remained was a somber mood. It seemed more like a funeral than a Halloween celebration. I heard the sound of someone sniffling and holding back tears, and noticed that my own eyes were starting to mist and tear up. My voice quivered as I continued to sing the melody, making the song sound even more melancholy than it was. At the end of the verse, I composed myself as Hux and Mitaka took a solo. Pudge knew I was sad, and ended his mouse catcher duties to rub up against me and comfort me. The rest of the musicians fell silent as they were evacuated, leaving me singing as I made my way out of the club, makeup ruined by my tears- but I didn't care. Just as I sang the last note, the police came running out, the suspicious package being revealed to be a smoke bomb which was recently defused.

Patrons milled about outside, confused and desperate for answers. One of the police men handed me a megaphone, and I began to confess everything to the patrons.

"Ladies and gentlemen... Nightingale is in danger. Vader is demanding five hundred thousand dollars by the start of December, and if we don't make it," my voice began to quaver, "Nightingale will be no more." More murmurs resounded through the crowd, and I handed the megaphone to Brendol.

"But... we'll find some sort of way to catch Vader in the act and get the club back. Mark my words, it will be done!" he said, to the cheers of the patrons. Someone took up the chant of "Save Nightingale!" and the crowd roared the chant in unison. It was a powerful scene, one that empowered me- and sent the wheels turning in my head for a plan. If we were going to get Vader out of the way and Nightingale back, then we might as well have to do an old-fashioned heist. Because Vader should have known better than to cross paths with me.

#nightingale #my writing

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lunaraen · 6 years

Note

Prompt: 22. "Who the fuck are you?"

It’s never anything as simple asa broken leg, the flu, or a sprained wrist. It couldn’t possibly be a normalcold, or a headache, or insomnia that wasn’t fueled by trauma or terriblenightmares that required more help than a potion or paste.

Ivor’s job would be a lot easierif it ever were.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The potential complications ofhis role as healer, many of which are unexpectedly emotional in nature, are nothelped by how much of a comedian Petra seems to think she is.

Her dedication to one joke isadmittedly admirable.

(It’s not a joke he’s fond of,given how much it reminds him of how her amnesia and pain had been his fault,caused by his monster, pain and confusion that slowly sapped away at Gabriel’swill, pain and confusion inflicted on who knows how many more people, butIvor’s well past the point of not liking it through the sheer tedium.)

Still, Petra’s humor is oftentied directly to her sense of how much she doesn’t want others to worry, thoughbeing lightheaded might have something to do with it this time.

“Charming.” Ivor rollshis eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair, bothunwilling to go through with her overused, poor excuse for comedy, and relievedthat she’s awake and aware enough to have such poor humor shine through.“Contrary to what you might think, it really isn’t as funny to hear thefifth time.”

“No, seriously, who the fuck are you?”

She never manages to repeat itwithout laughing, or cracking a wide grin, if she even bothers to keep pushingit at all, but there’s no humor to her voice this time, no smile to be found inthe tight frown.

He raises an eyebrow.

Petra’s eyes narrow further, theglare more frightened and nervous than it is heated, one of her hands tightlygripping her wrist as her body seems to curve more into itself.

Lovely.

“…I see.” His gaze isslow, controlled enough to keep it from seeming shifty or as frantic as thebubbling unease in his core would like him to be, as it moves from Petra toJesse, the only other person he allowed to be in the room in order to givePetra plenty of breathing room while letting at least one of the others bethere to greet her. He lifts a hand, having to actively fight to keep itsmovements from being sluggish as he points to Jesse. There’s a twisted humor,he’s sure, in how his gaze fights to be wild and erratic while his body feelsnumb and heavy, but he’s had enough of poor humor. “Do you recognizeher?”

Jesse’s eyes are widened slightlywhen Petra looks to her, Jesse’s smile warm but the rest of her expression notquite yet smoothly shifted from her previously open alarm.

The wave she gives is small andquick, smile widening and stretching enough to let a sliver of her teeth showfor just a moment, and while Ivor wouldn’t expect it to be calming, Jesse’s thebetter of them when it comes to soothing others and being friendly with peoplein tense situations.

“…nope. I didn’t even knowthere was anybody standing there, so that’s nice and creepy. Uh, hey.”Petra’s wave is weak, little more than her raising her hand with a lingeringglance in Jesse’s direction before gripping her arm once more, gaze shiftingbetween Jesse and Ivor. If she has anything more to say, even solely out of adesire to break the awkward silence, she doesn’t act on it.

Jesse doesn’t either, meaningthat, once again, it’s up to Ivor.

He’s very, very tired of today,and it’s little consolation that they’ve finally reached the afternoon.

“What’s the last thing youremember?”

The sound she makes is almost toogentle to be a growl, quiet and weak, and there’s a lack of any bite to how hereyes narrow.

“Y'know I’m expecting to geta whole lot of answers from you too, right?” Her tone’s dry, expressionrelaxing as she glances down at her fingers, busy drumming them against thetable as she shrugs. “…I remember it being dark, and I heard voices. I–we were moving? I think? It felt like I was tied up.”

The last part is pointed andIvor’s huff is its own bitter chuckle, though it takes half a moment to realizethat it doesn’t relax Petra the way it once did, invites no bickering orexasperation on her part.

He’ll give her credit; it’s apowerful glare.

The smile he gives is as genuineas the huff, but better controlled, easier to mold to be more clear about his intentions.

Gentle, less sarcastic, notpatronizing but not threatening.

“You were brought here onhorseback. From the sound of it, Axel had a decent grip on you, and you’d beenbundled in blankets to keep you from growing cold.”

When Ivor points to the pile ofblankets sitting on the floor beside the table, her gaze is reluctant tofollow.

She doesn’t argue, though, andher shoulders relax as she looks back up at him.

“That’s also sort of thefirst and only thing I remember too.I feel like I should have a lot more than just that. What’s an ‘Axel’?”

“He’s a fr– person youknow.” Convincing her that she likes them and is meant to feel safe herein their temple, her home, will take more than calling people she can’t recallfriends and brushing off her paranoia of having been attacked and tied up.“The reason you don’t know who he is right now is because you haveamnesia. Congratulations, you’ve somehow managed to once again snatch the titleof ‘sudden amnesiac’.”

“What’s amnesia?” Shepauses, her frown seemingly not directed at him this time as she looks away,brow furrowing and her nose scrunched. “And why do I feel like I reallyshouldn’t have to ask?”

“Amnesia refers to losingyour memories–feeling like you know how to do things or what some things arewithout remembering how you learned about them in the first place.” Shedoesn’t say anything to that, which is fair. For all she knows, he’s lying, buthe doubts she has any better explanations for her patchy memory, or overalllack thereof. “First rule of mining.”

Her response is almost instant,words certain if short, and there’s a confident humor to them that’s beenmissing so far, the most Petra-like thing he’s heard from her.

“Never dig straightdown.” A pause. Then, a frown, her head tilting to the side as she shrugs,upper lip curling as she watches him, gaze distasteful and unsure all at once.“I can’t tell you why that’s thefirst rule, though.”

“Exactly, but any miner, oranyone who’s ever held a pick or shovel, could.”

“I don’t think it’s supposedto make my head hurt.”

“Usually not.” Ivor reachesinto his bag, absently rearranging several of the vials and corked bottlesbefore retrieving two small healing potions. Glancing up before he straightenslets him know that Petra’s still intently watching him, her brow furrowed morebut the rest of her expression less pinched. “That rule’s because of lavaflows and underground chasms, if you were wondering.”

“What’s lava?”

He nearly drops one of the vials,fingers belatedly curling tighter around it as he presses them into Petra’shands, not letting go until he’s sure she’s holding them.

“Alright, and it seems thereare some things you’ve just forgotten entirely.” He smiles, perhaps a bittoo wide with too forced a chuckle as he meets Jesse’s gaze, both of themglancing at each other, before he looks back to Petra. “It’s notunexpected. You were the same way the last time you had amnesia. This time, wehave better access to healing potions. When you drink those, that should helpwith the pain.”

He wonders how much pain she wasin last time, how much he could’ve helped but didn’t. Would it have mattered ifshe spoke up?

Would he have been too bitter todo anything other than look down on her for it and try not to let the guiltconsume him, the way he tried and failed at the time to keep from being slowlyeaten alive by the earned guilt that came with Ellegaard’s death?

It doesn’t matter. It just feelslike it does.

“Last time?” Petrafiddles with one of the corks, twisting it absently before tugging it out,glancing up at him again before peering down at the potion, one eye closed andthe other squinting as she swishes the potion just enough to make theconcoction bubble and froth. “So, is this like… a me thing? Or a regularthing?”

“It’s very much not.”Ivor snorts, flicking the bag shut as Petra empties the vial, hesitating beforeshe tilts it back. It doesn’t last long, though there doesn’t have to be muchfor it to be strong, and she’s grimacing before she begins drinking the secondone more quickly. “But you do seem to have that sort of luck. The lasttime was far more complicated; you were terribly sick, and it wasn’t until theWitherstorm was killed that your memory returned.”

Petra mulls that over as sheplays with the now empty vials between her fingers, the way she often playswith them after needing potions, probably trying to decide which questions sheought to bother asking.

Her fingers still as the glass begins to slip, and hermovements are more stiff, rigid once again as she quickly sets them down besideher on the bed.

While she does, Ivor’s gazetrails to the necklace she’s wearing, no doubt looted from the ruins they’dentered, and he wonders just how he forgot to take it off when he was removingher armor, worried about her vitals and potential poisoning or other causes offainting.

…actually, the panic andover-bubbling of feared potentials probably had something to do with him notbothering to mess with something as trivial as a trinket that wasn’tobstructing any examinations.

Still, looking at it now, hecan’t believe he hardly spared it a thought, practically overlooking it.

It shines brighter than thelighting or even more colorful glow of nearby potions should allow, glintingwarmly in a way that all but demands attention.

He can’t imagine how he missedit.

Granted, Ivor can’t imagine howhe’s begun to hold the pendant before even realizing his hand has moved, thathis fingers are curling around warmed metal.

Given that Petra’s been wearingit, it’s no surprise that it’s warm.

What is surprising is the way itthrums, pulses beneath his fingers in the brief moment before Petra herselfshoves his hand away.

The wordless snarl is deep andquick, sharper than a growl and with more barbs, and Petra doesn’t even seemaware of it herself, expression melting back to curiosity as he pulls his handback and as her own falls back to her side.

She doesn’t seem aware of how hereyes respond either, not that it’s surprising when she doesn’t seem to haveregistered her own growl. Ivor’s aware of it, though, all too aware of how hereyes flash with light not their own, narrowed and burning with energy thatdemands attention, bright and powerful and somehow dim in comparison to thefire and determination normally burning in Petra’s eyes.

Beyond the more emotional,spiritual comparisons, her eyes also flash with actual light, pale and ghostlyand as quick as the snarl, looking almost more like a warning flare or thrum ofmagic.

Ah, lovely. It couldn’t just be arelapse or regular amnesia, could it?

“Well, if killing a– awhatever you said fixed it before, can’t you just… kill it again?”

He takes a bit too long torespond, staring at her and utterly lost before remembering that they have beencarrying out a conversation, up until this point.

“I’m afraid that’s no longeran option to us.” Ivor gets to his feet, nearly bouncing with what hehopes seems like optimism instead of alarm. “However, I do have a fewideas for how to handle this.”

Jesse’s watching them now, nolonger busy staring at her hands, but there’s no alarm to her expression, nofear like Ivor’s busy shoving aside. With their luck, she didn’t see it, maybeonly heard the snarl, but Ivor’s more than willing to fill her in.

After all, he has his fair shareof questions to ask her.

However, the time and place arenot here and not now, not in the infirmary with Petra looking more lost thanscared and Ivor desperately trying to remember passages from texts older thantheir world itself. He’ll just have to remedy the setting a bit.

“Ah, Jesse, you were therewhen Petra passed out. I’d like to ask you a few more questions, just so I cannarrow our options down to something realistically helpful. Do you mind if westep out for a minute?”

The last part, directed at Petrayet again, is almost sickeningly sweet in how it’s said, but it’s too late totake it back.

Lucky for them, she seems morebothered by the idea than the tone.

“…sure? I mean, you’recoming back, right?”

Too innocent, too insecure.

(Too Petra? Or too clearlymisleading, too obviously crafted to capture his attention and soften hisguard?)

“Right. Just sit tight– anddon’t touch anything.”

It’s as quick a relaxed exit asIvor can make, though his own hastiness is easily tempered by how he and Jessehave to pause in the doorway, waiting for the others to back up enough fromwhere they’d been eavesdropping to let the two of them out into the hallway.

They have the decency to not fakesudden regret and look ashamed, sheepish as their smiles may be.

That’s alright. He has thedecency to not look surprised.

Ivor prods Jesse to the side, notclosing the door behind them fully even as he motions for the rest of them tomove away from it.

It may be a dangerous game to play,making it easier for it to hear them, but he’d much rather be able to hearPetra moving should she try anything, and he’s had enough practice by thispoint to nearly master the art of being scathingly quiet while still very muchscathing.

And the rest of them have had thepractice to follow his lead when he lowers his voice so much.

“I thought Harper wasexaggerating when she said you’d all get into trouble without propersupervision.” The issue is, as accurate a statement as it is, it onlyleaves them chastised to the point they’d have expected from going on anadventure only to bring back an unconscious teammate. They all certainly looklike they’ve felt bad enough about that aspect. It might even be fitting for anamnesiac teammate. All the same, it’s not fitting for their current dilemma,and they have the right to know it just as much as Ivor has the right to not bethe only one ridiculously worried. “So, when did Petra go and get herself possessed, exactly?”

Jesse blinks at him beforegrinning widely, all teeth and somehow double the nervous energy he thought shecould have.

He misses Harper. Her advice cutsthrough confusion the way his own thoughts don’t, her knowledge wouldundoubtedly be a bonus in this situation, and the general support would begreatly appreciated.

Ideally, they’ll have this littlematter taken care of by the time she returns from her latest community projectfor Crown Mesa, and she won’t have to worry about it.

He misses and envies her.

“…please tell me you’rekidding and that I’m not supposed to actually answer that?” Ivor doesn’tbother reacting in any way, arms remaining crossed over his chest as his gazestays unimpressed and solely on Jesse. “Oh, great. Just now? Or, well,just before we left the ruins, when she passed out?”

“I’d rather say that’s notPetra at all, if only because that makes pest control much easier.” Heknows better than to think a creature capable of mimicking another’s form willbe easy to finish off, but there would certainly be less emotional baggage orethical concerns about, say, tricking it into drinking a fatal potion orslicing its head off while its back was turned. “But I’m fairly certainit’s still her. Most mimics are… shoddy at best, and rather grotesque atworst. Given that she has the right number of limbs, fingers, eyes, and thather scars seem to be exactly the same, possession’s more likely. The thing’susing her as a vessel, of sorts. It might be aware and might have wiped hermemory, or it might be pretending, or it might not know much of anything itselfeither. Possessions tend to be much more trouble than they’re worth.”

He has little firsthandexperience with them, though not none, and what he lacks in personal experiencehas been more than made up by the flurry of warnings in any book or scrolldetailing anything remotely related to possession.

“How could it possess her?Or, why Petra, and not all of us?” Ivor chokes off the snide remark beforeit can enter his throat or think to reach his treacherous tongue.

He may be tired and as unhappy asthem about this, but those are fair questions and it would be pointless to snapat or blame Lukas for asking. The closest experience any of them have to such asituation, especially Lukas, is PAMA, and its constant desire for dominationand expansion had been a bit of a theme.

“I don’t suppose you foundfive of those necklaces, did you?”

Any follow-up questions seem todie then and there, realization mixed with regret, and he’s further contentwith his decision to be more manageably snarky.

“We weren’t even expectingto find one. We probably would’ve missed it if Lukas hadn’t found a hiddenchest.” It could easily be phrased as an accusation, as pinning the blameon Lukas for inviting this trouble into their team, this entity into their friendand home, but Olivia sounds quiet and more factual than anything, nearlynonchalant even as one of her hands tugs on her hair while the other tightlygrips her arm.

Lukas still looks like he expectsIvor to blame him; lucky for him, Ivor hasn’t the time to entertain the notion,or half the stomach for it. Even if he did, a fight is the last thing theyneed, and he’d never solely blame Lukas for such a matter.

(The borrowed quills Lukas hasn’treturned are a different issue, but even that can be handled in a direct butcivilized manner and at a more appropriate time.)

“Was there anything else inthat chest?”

“Not anything more than afew cobwebs and a layer of dust.” Lukas rubs the back of his neck, halfsmile weak even as his voice falls lower and he clears his throat. “I, uh,I probably would’ve put it on if Petra hadn’t.”

“You mean if you two hadn’tfought over it until Jesse made you knock it off.”

Bickering is regular enough to beworth immediate reporting, but Ivor wonders how he’s only hearing this partnow, as Lukas’s ears pinken to the point of rivaling Petra’s hair in color.

“We weren’t fighting.”

Lukas’s own silent plea to Jesse,his eyes wide and too forcibly innocent, is met with nothing but a weak shrug.

“You guys were gettingpretty riled up.”

“Oh, come on, that’s justhow Petra is. She’s super competitive.”

“Like you aren’t?” Axelhas a point, the verbal nudge said quietly and as gently as anything else, thoughIvor doubts there are any of them are missing at least a slight tendency forbeing competitive. Perhaps to illustrate that point, while Lukas’s face returnsto something of a more normal color, his eyes narrow as he weakly glares up atAxel. It’s a more wounded look than anything, and Ivor’s beginning to wonder ifthe heightened tension is helped any by this possession business.

(The emotional fallout is sure tobe a mess, however this goes.)

Olivia doesn’t let Lukas arguethat one, stopping a squabble between him and Axel before it can begin, and ifIvor has half his sanity after this ordeal, he’ll be sure to thank her for it.An extra healing potion ought to do.

“Lukas, you insulted hersword and said she was just confused and ungrateful. And cocky.”

“Only because she called me a hack and said my booksonly sold well because I was milking our fame and riding your guys’coattails–” Lukas, still whispering even as he begins to hiss, pauses,wincing as his posture slumps and visibly loses steam. “Okay, yeah, it gotkind of heated.”

His smile is once again sheepishas his shoulders slump and he combs his fingers through his hair, other handhanging limp at his side, suddenly rather interested in watching his shoesscuff the floor.

“Only kind of?”

“Well, it’s nice knowing weonly said that stuff because of whatever was in that pendant.” Lukas’s handpauses before falling past his hair, rubbing the back of his neck.“…I probably should’ve realized it was cursed before Petra passed out.”

“Nobody else did.” Jesse touches his shoulder, voice as gentle as her movements. Ivor knows better than to hope she doesn’t blame herself. Her smile weakens, doing a poor job of looking any less guilty as she looks back to Ivor, voice stronger but no louder. “Petra gloated for a little bit, but it was just teasing and it didn’t last long anyway, not after she collapsed onto Axel.”

“Hey, better me than thefloor. Maybe those bricks were a million years old, but they were still roughand solid. I don’t know if Petra’d really care about the blood stains, butfainting sucks enough with getting a concussion or cracking your headopen.”

It’s an unpleasant mental image,even if the damage would likely be limited to less drastic consequences thanthat by Petra’s helmet.

(Ivor may just give them allextra healing potions after this.

They certainly seem to have earned it.)

“So Lukas and Petra foughtover an oddly shiny piece of jewelry almost immediatelyafter finding it, becoming uncharacteristically surly and cruel, and Petrapassed out only a few minutes after donning it?”

“If you’re trying to say itwas obvious that the necklace was cursed…”

“Yeah, we know, we’regetting that.”

(For as dry as his words are, asslow and sarcastic as he feels his tone has the right to be without beingoverly mocking, Ivor’s not sure he can blame them.

They clearly knew something waswrong when she passed out.

They clearly weren’t comfortablewith the bickering.

They just also didn’t find it souncharacteristic that Petra and Lukas easily turned on each other, and giventhe nature of their past few arguments, Ivor doesn’t blame them.

He’s also not sure what thatsays.

What it means, when he knows hewouldn’t have thought much odd about Lukas and Petra bickering, not even whenit took a turn into being nasty and sharp. Maybe he’s more used to the ideathat friends can turn on each other. Maybe they’re all just a little more usedto Petra and Lukas growing snippier with each other than they once were, barbsjagged and hooked as personally cutting insults and snide comments haveovertaken gentler teasing.

All friends fight; it’s just notcomforting that every group Ivor’s seen has undergone a schism of some sort.It’s even less comforting when he considers how Lukas already knows the pain oflosing dear friends, how Petra’s been lonely enough in the past to never wantto return to that. They should know better.

Once, he thought they did.

It’s disturbing, but not asdisturbing as the possessed warrior still sitting on the examination table, onedoor away in a room filled with some of his best and most powerful potions.

Craning his neck to peer into theroom, the door left cracked open just enough to let him view the table, Ivor’slips tug into a frown as Petra begins– well, as her current host beginsswinging its legs, still perched right where she was left. The expression maybe more curious than Petra’s normally is, but the pose is familiar, even moreso as its fingers begin drumming lightly against the table the way hers alwaysdo when she’s in for her checkups, or dragged in by someone else for treatmentof her wounds.

Familiar, unexpected, and fullydisturbing.)

“How do we fix it?”

“If I took over somebody’sbody, and if it was as big a pain as Ivor makes it out to be, I wouldn’t wantpeople to just shove me back out.” Axel’s grin is brief but wide, toothyand slightly maniacal, matching the brief glint in his eye as he looks to therest of them. “They’d have to fight me for it.”

The smile weakens once Olivianudges his ribs, the jab itself quick and as short lived as the grin.

Spoken like a true griefer king.

(There’d been a time when Ivorhad thought Magnus an oddity, even among griefers. He’s since learned well thatMagnus was just part of one particular, peculiar breed.)

“Quite. It won’t just handher body back over if we ask nicely. However, it reacted poorly when Iattempted to touch the pendant.” Poorly may be an understatement, but anentity wishing to fit in would have no reason to overreact if the necklacewasn’t important to it in some way. “Getting it away from her may be thebest, or only, solution we have. The question then, of course, is if taking thecursed item from her will transfer the curse.”

“Which means…?”

“It’s possible whoevermanages to successfully remove the necklace will remove the spirit or entityfrom Petra, allowing it to either roam to a new host or be transferred intotheir own body.”

Olivia winces, the answer likely as unpleasant as she expected to get but unpleasant all the same.

“Oh. Great.”

“What if removing thenecklace doesn’t remove it?” Jesse’s holding onto her chin, briefly bitinginto her finger as she glances at the others. “Or it ends up possessingall of us when it’s free?”

There’s a fixation on thatpossibility, of overwhelming and total possession, that Ivor would maybe have aharder time understanding if he didn’t know how familiar they were with theterrifying idea of being controlled against their wills, if their most hatedpoints didn’t come from being unable to help each other or do anything otherthan watch chaos and harm unfold upon their friends, if he wasn’t as horrifiedof the idea and as frustrated by not being able to save them.

And, frankly, Ivor knows justenough about possession to know how unreliable and hectic it can be, and heknows so little about this situation that he can’t rule out the possibility.

“That’s why none of you willbe attempting to remove the necklace.”

“What?” For all theirback and forth today, it’s the one question they have no problem with agreeingon, incredulous and confused enough to border on raising their voices just abit too much.

He’s quick to shush them, butthey don’t seem anymore understanding of his answer.

“Not right now, at least. Ineed to do more research, and if it’s only faking being oblivious, it’scertainly suspicious enough after my attempt. Don’t forget that it’s currentlyinhabiting one of the best warriors out there, one we would all rather nothurt.” There’s some shifting, each of them once again avoiding his gaze. Theymay be more understanding of his reasoning, but none of them seem particularlyplacated by it. “We don’t need to give it more reason to act out, or toharm Petra, until we’re certain removing the item will safely remove theentity.”

“And if it won’t…?” Lukas leans his shoulder against the wall, jacket sliding against the quartz perhaps just a bit more than he expected.

Still, he does a good job of hiding his surprise behind a raised eyebrow and lips that aren’t quite twisting into a frown, and it’s yet another fair question, yet another concern they have to worry about.

Ivor wishes he had a fair answer.

“Then we’ll have to figureout a compromise that’s safest for everyone. Until then, we’ll just have toplay along.“

Which is hardly comforting.

Ivor glances back at the door,waiting a few moments until he’s sure everything seems as he left it. Close enoughto his expectations, at least, Petra not having gotten to her feet even as shecontinues to fidget and look around, seemingly far more interested in hersurroundings than the hushed whispers she hopefully can’t hear. Curiosity seemsso innocent, but it goes hand in hand with strategizing and plotting.

Ivor sighs, expression softeningas he looks at the others, well aware his smile is weak and strained but stilla smile, still as gentle and warm as his voice becomes.

“Don’t look so miserable.You’re heroes of how many worlds now? You know how to be careful.” Hestretches his arms out in front of him, fingers interlocked and palms facingaway from his body as he straightens up, knuckles popping as quietly as hisback before his hands return to his sides. “Now, the rest of you can starttrickling in. It’ll be expecting some company, if it thinks we’re really herfriends.”

If that’s all it suspects, thenit hardly knows anything at all.

They’re her family, as much as she’s theirs, andits influence on them has been wholly unwelcome and undesired, just like itscurrent residence in Petra.

Ivor huffs again as he opens thedoor, muttering to himself as Jesse gently pushes past him and Axel followssuit, their steps more cautious than the hurried scuttle away from the door hadbeen just minutes ago.

Ivor’s words are grumbled and lowenough that he can hardly hear himself over the others’ footsteps and his own,hardly hear himself over Axel and Jesse’s friendly but not too forcedintroductions, hardly hear himself over the theories and ideas beginning totake root in his mind.

“Notch knows we’ve certainlyfaced worse than a dangerous amnesiac.”

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #Minecraft Story Mode #callitfatecallit karma

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