#the latter is hissing spitting and clawing at the walls why is she like this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emotionalcello-makefanfics · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Tamara Fox, Some OC for cuteness Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Sickfic, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Tim Drake is Not Red Robin, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Crying, so much crying, Love Confessions, Cheesy, God it's so cheesy, Cringe, So sweet so cheesy so angsty that you'll cringe, Tim Drake-centric, some Jason POV tho, A wild X-men appereance, I know they're not the same universe but I'm running out of character and running out of creativity, So yeah X-men characters and vaugly their mansion/orphanage too, Bruce Wayne Bashing, Some things that I don't put down bcs it'll be a spoiler, Smoking, Implied/Referenced Sex, POV from a cat????, The Clichést Cliché that ever Cliché, Cliche Summary:

They meet again on a rooftop after ten years. They're different now, and things are not the same. It's all too late. Chapter 1 sneakpeek

“Don’t jump.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Tim puts down his cigarette-clutching fingers and drags his eyes to the source of the voice. His gelled-back hair loses its hold and a strand of ear-length bangs falls to his vision.

Sadly, without seeing him and just from the voice, Tim knows exactly who this person is. One of the Bat franchise, and it just had to be the Red Hood variation, fucking great. Out of all time, it has to be tonight. The world is playing a joke on him.

Tim is sitting hunched on the rooftop’s edge, wishing he’d have some peace and quiet for once, and of course one of these pestering bats just has to bug him at the worst time. Yet, it’s actually pretty rare for Red Hood to patrol Gotham lately, and Tim curses up a storm in his mind. Out of all the days, it just has to be fucking tonight.

No, Tim is not having it.

“This man has too much to do tomorrow to jump.” Tim looks away, getting a light from his suit.

One hand lighting another one of his death stick, and the other unbuttoning his suit and loosens his tie. After a puff and two, Tim drags in and keeps the smoke in, letting his nerves uncoil. Seems like it doesn’t work that well when the big bad shadow of a vigilante doesn’t move from the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not jumping, go away, I can’t deal with you tonight,” Tim says as he sighs the smoke away to the red polluted sky, thinking the man must be deaf or just not convinced. Maybe the latter, the bats are famous for their tact after all. People say they’re purely human. Seeing Red hood’s physique, maybe this one becomes meta-human at some point.

Tim looks the other way so the vigilante is completely out of his vision, to make a point that he’s not having this conversation. He looks to the city, engulfed by the red sky. It’s bright since this building is at the heart of the city, where the higher caste of Gothamites live and prosper. You can see the border around the bright side of the city where the lights stop dead and darkness begins. The poor side of the city. The gap is ghastly, it’s what makes Gotham what it is.

Tim is not surprised but highly disappointed when he hears shuffling instead, and when he looks at where the tall brick wall of a man, he already sits down next to him. Red Hood keeps a respectable distance though, at least he has that much of a tact.

Red Hood hooks his fingers inside his helmet, does some finger shimmy, and the red shiny mask helmet is off. His face is still covered by a domino mask, his hair looks damp, and his gloved hands rake his jet black hair back. Curls bounce to his forehead, sighing a fog, the only indication that the weather is reaching the end of the year. In turn, Tim felt his cleanly shaved nape chilled.

From inside the leather jacket, the vigilante digs to look for something, and that’s when Tim realized he’s been looking at the cuts on Red Hood’s exposed forearms from the folded sleeves. Very thick and muscled forearms. This guy either lifts all day or a meta-human, not that Tim cares anymore.

“Got a light?” Red says, plush lips smirking.

Tim sighs, guess he has company today. He digs into his suit and throws him his lighter. The masked man inspects it and Tim rolls his eyes. The lighter is a metal one that you flip, and on it engraved ‘From my heart with love, that this one lasts longer, Tam.’

“A sweetheart of yours?” Says the man, the second sentence he speaks, and Tim doesn’t recognize the voice. Deep, gravely, the typical voice of someone that smokes.

Red Hood extends his hand to give back the lighter to Tim instead of throwing it, must’ve thought it’s special.

“Kind of,” Tim says, receiving the lighter.

Red Hood drags in, keeps the smoke in, “Why kind of?” and sighs.

“Never established the relationship.”

“Commitment issues?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow at the man, sitting just as hunched as him. There’s a pillar beside Tim, and he lays his back there, thinking whether or not he should engage in this conversation. Eh, why not right? It’s not like it’s confidential information, and Tim is just so tired of caring about social politics.

“I was too late,” Tim says. It’s not as painful to say now, but lately, Tim has been numb. He’s been numb for years. Tim’s gay, or so he thought. When he began to really love her, she’s gone from him.

“Girl got another guy?” Red Hood teases.

“Girl got dead,” Tim deadpans. The smile dropped from the vigilante’s mouth, and if only he can see his eyes, panic would look funny on the all-powerful Bat. But, no, Tim can see his tell by the tapping hands.

“Ah fuck, sorry.”

Tim chuckles at the spectacle of an awkward vigilante. Maybe this night won’t be so bad after all.

“Relax, I’m not too sad about it now, it was years ago.”

It’s hard to predict Red’s expression with that domino mask that takes his cheekbones and half his forehead, but Tim’s pretty sure the twist on that mouth means his opinion of Tim isn’t good. Well, not that Tim cares.

“How did she die?”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Tim put the filter on his lips and drags in as deep as he can. Too deep, and Tim coughs hard, once and twice that his vision blurs. Her face comes to vision, the morbidity of her expression tips Tim’s nerves off balance. Tim quickly takes another deep drag, “She was in the Joker’s way.”

At the name, Red Hood snaps his face at Tim. Slowly, languidly, Tim looks back. The vigilante clenched jaw and balled fists look like he’s about to kill somebody. Tim knows that a few years ago Red Hood kidnapped Joker, didn’t kill him, and just vanished before popping up again to have a vendetta against Batman. What a load of drama those bunch.

This also means that Tim knows exactly who this person is. Suddenly the voice registers, the familiar jaw, the soft fucking tone.

He blames it on the nicotine that his heart is calmer than he’d like, his mind still not on overdrive, still plagued with Tam’s face as she died in front of him. He’d breathe smoke instead of oxygen if he could. God he wished he’d breathe smoke from now on. Why does it have to be today? One grace from the universe is that Tim -for some reason- feels amused instead of dread.

“You look like you’re about to kill somebody, Red,” Tim says, can’t help the ease and sass in his voice. Tim lays back hunched, crosses his legs. “I thought you let go of your vendetta against the Joker.”

“Where do you hear that bullshit?” Redhood snaps and Tim can’t help but let go another chuckle.

“People talk, words get around,” Tim says.

“Then they’re far off the truth,” Red hisses before dragging in his cig.

“Yet the Joker still roams.”

“Ain’t my call.”

“Is it the big bat daddy calls?”

Red Hood splutters at the name and Tim smirks evilly at the reaction. “Ew, don’t call him that!”

“I can call that higher-than-thou furry hero wannabe anything I want,” Tim spits bitterly, looking out to the city. Sometimes when he’s really lucky, he’ll catch one of the bats twirling in the sky, and now one of ‘em is sitting beside him, but sadly it’s not the most shocking knowledge he has today. “One of these days it’s going to be my turn.”

“What?”

“Dying in the collision of mad men’s evil master plan you refuse to get rid of.”

“Ck, I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

“Sorry then, I don’t mean to insinuate anything. This is me telling you loud and clear that you’re all cowards for not killing these maniacs that kill us like ants when you have the power to stop them.” Tim’s voice is even and chill, it did not raise a tone, but it reduces the bulk of a man beside him to still. “Some of us rooted for you when you caught the Joker, and your reputation gives us high hopes that it’ll be the last of him. Then he showed up again.” Tim feels the lighter in his pocket burn, “Then Tam died.”

Tim pumps his lung full of smokes, keeping it in there so that the clawing gloom will die before it takes roots.

“I almost did kill him, Batman stopped me,” the gravel voice says lowly.

Tim feels himself stiffens, now that’s something he doesn’t know. His eyes scan the hunched vigilante, trying to find any sign of a lie, there’s none.

“Shit,” Tim curses, sighing up smoke and quickly takes a deep drag in. “Fuck Batman.”

For the first time, Tim hears Red chuckle, “Yeah, fuck him.”

“Still your family though, right?” Tim says, earning what he thinks is a glare, who would fucking know with that mask. “Why else would you stay in his line?”

Red Hood looks away, not answering.

“Guess I understand. Proving something to someone.”

Red scoffs, “Would you?”

“You know who I am.”

“Yeah, not your story.”

Tim scoffs at the obvious lie, “Look it up. I have better things to do than telling you my backstory that’s a google search away.”

Tim Drake. Son of the CEOs of Drake Industries. Running smoothly since ever he becomes the COO. Yada yada, young and successful, yada yada, has the reputation to chew out the reporters and a resting bitch face, all that shit. Tim doesn’t have the best bedside manners, but when it comes to business, Tim gets things done, and his business partners know to swallow their pride for a potential too stupid to missed just because Tim has fangs.

“I dunno, you’re pretty mysterious in the eye of the media,” Red says.

“Because they’re nosy pricks and not worth my time when they’re asking me about rumors of my flings.”

“They’re not true?”

“What the fuck are you? Does TMZ sent you?”

“Good point, never mind.”

They let the quiet settle in, and Tim isn’t too bothered by the company so much. The red amber eats to his filter. Tim puts out the light and puts the bud back inside the pack while he gets another one. He looks down at his light, which reminded him of Tam. Damn, she was such a good assistant, she’s also his best friend but a damn better assistant. Tim doesn’t let himself think about it.

He lights another, and puffs.

“Shouldn’t you be patroling?” Tim says before he can stop himself.

“Nah, not here to patrol, just some errands.”

“Don’t mind me. I’m not jumping.”

“No, I know that,” Red says, tone softer that Tim narrows his eyes at him.

“Lonely?” Tim teases, putting the filter in his lips while locking eyes to the pair of white lenses.

Red shrugs, “Just wanna kill time with someone that doesn’t wear one of these,” he says, tapping to his domino mask.

Tim hums imagining himself with his family, “Yeah, me too, I’d take a vigilante franchise over family dinner anytime.”

“Aww,” Red surprisingly coos, making Tim flustered.

“Don’t get it twisted, my family sets a pretty low bar for good company.”

“I can say the same, Timmy.”

Tim flinches, “I didn’t say you can call me Timmy.”

“What about friends then?” Red follows up, ignoring him.

“Joker killed my only best friend. Oh god, stop making that face, everyone I know got someone they know killed by the Joker, or Bane, or.... shit just those freaks.”

“Doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I don’t care what you feel.”

“I’m wounded,” Red says in that joking ‘boo-hoo’ voice but it was the last thing to snap Tim’s patience completely. He hates this casual conversation as if nothing happened.

“I’m not jumping, and I know you’re not here just to talk to some random civilian. You know who I am, so say what you wanna say and go,” Tim inhales deeply after the low-toned rant, only to be met with another silence.

They stay quiet for a few whiles again. Smoking the tension away. After Tim’s cig burns halfway, his nerves calmed down. Then he realizes that Red is looking at him. Staring.

“What?” Tim says, sighing smoke.

“Would you kill Joker if you could?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Killing someone isn’t as easy as it sounds, especially if you did it before.”

“You underestimate my anger then.”

Red Hood goes still for what Tim is insinuating. His phone vibrates in his pocket. Tim gets it and his new assistant reminds him of a flight in an hour and he needs to be ready in half. Tim puts out his cig and pockets it.

As he stands up, he looks down at Red Hood, really looks at him. It reminded Tim of the time has passed. It’s been so long.

“Nothing to say?” Tim asks, he has an underlying tone of ‘last chance.’

“Thanks for the light.”

Tim clenches his jaw and breaths slowly. What did he expect? “You caught me at a bad time but it’s good to meet you again, Jason.”

When Tim walks away, his elbow is grabbed and he’s spun to face Jason in all his bulk. Looming over him with his height.

“You know who I am?” Red says with a threat in his voice that makes Tim wants to laugh.

“Are you really that surprised? Or did you forget me when you fucking died?” Tim smiles bitterly.

Moments passed, eyes on each other, chest to chest. The last time he sees Jason, Tim was staring at these white lenses too, and Jason was still as tall as him. At this close, Tim sees tiny tears that heal pale than the rest of his tan skin, bulked up body looming over him that used to be similar to his. For anyone, Tim had two best friends, Robin and Jason Wayne-Todd, he had known the two are the same. Seems like Jason doesn’t.

Doesn’t matter now. Everything said and done. Too late.

“Say your goodbyes now,” Tim says, because why else would his childhood friend pops back again after a decade of not saying anything after he returned to life. Tim doesn’t realize it’ll hurt this bad though. Missing Tam doesn’t hurt this bad.

Perhaps it was because the scar never healed right, but he still thinks of Jason like a big chunk of him that’s been torn away forcefully, even now.

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally says, low and guilty, as he should be, but it irks Tim to no end.

“I lost you, and when you’re back you didn’t tell me,” Tim says, his voice cracks and he curses it to hell. Red Hood’s been around for years, and Jason never came to Tim to say he’s alive. “If you have nothing else to say, let go of me.”

“I didn’t know that you knew.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you know I was Robin... Did you know... everyone?”

Tim rolls his eyes, “Yes.” Gloved hands still on his elbow, and white lenses not letting him go. The non-challant face he wears slips off as if oil just slicked between the mask and his skin. His heart picks up a beat. There are layers between their skin, Jason’s thick gloves and Tim’s three-piece suit, but it feels warmer. Burning.

“Damn,” Jason curses under his breath.

It’s just a little thing, but Jason’s silence following that is a nother prick to Tim’s skin.

“Is that all?” Tim dismissed, pulling his arm away, but Jason only holds tighter.

“I didn’t know, okay?” Jason pushes, “And you’re a civilian, you’re not supposed to know Jason Todd is back to the land of the living.”

“A civilian,” Tim mutters under his breath. That’s all he is to Jason? All this time. His chest hurts, Tim knows this is because of Jason’s words instead of anything else. “Get away from me.”

“I’ll see you again,” Jason says before letting go.

Before Tim can say don’t bother, the man puts on his red helmet and grapples away. For a moment Tim can see the shadow of red yellow green flying away.

#jaytim #jaytim fanfic #jaytim fanfiction #tim drake fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #Tim drake fanfic #Jason todd fanfic #Back on that dc angst train baby #emocel's

43 notes · View notes

blog-sliverofjade · 4 years

Text

Hearth Fires 9: Hunger

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 2131

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the divine pandabearer

RainFire Leopards: Who doesn’t love a lone wolf leopard? Now imagine an entire pack of them. What alpha is tough and crazy enough to herd these strong-willed roaming cats? Meet Remi Denier. Don’t let the lazy charm and Cajun drawl fool you or he’ll chew you up and spit you out.

Unless that’s what you’re into. We don’t judge.

-From the “Pack Cheat Guide” in the March 2082 issue of Wild Women magazine: “Skin Privileges, Style, and Primal Sophistication”

A massive fist slammed into Remi’s side, forcing air from his left lung. It wasn’t full force otherwise he’d be dealing with bruised ribs for a couple of days, but it wasn’t a love tap, either. Anything less would have been an insult to his strength.

Twisting, he brought his knee up and grabbed for Theo’s shoulders to bring him down into the strike. His hands slipped off shoulders slippery with sweat as the sentinel stepped back. The other leopard’s chest heaved, nearly matching the pace of his own panting. They’d been going at it long enough that they were both dripping.

“Again,” snarled Remi.

He needed to burn off the tension that’d been riding him since Chloe called him. Theo was big, taller than Remi, although not quite as widely built as the alpha. The sentinel used his quiet intelligence and surprising speed to lethal advantage, which meant he was the only one who could hold his own against the RainFire alpha for any length of time.

The sentinel shook his head and reached for a towel draped over a low hanging branch. Scrubbing it over his face, he left it to drape around his neck and scooped up two water bottles nestled in the coiled roots of the same tree. Remi caught the one tossed his way; the bio-plas crunched in his grip and water spilled onto his hand.

When he first met Lorel, he thought his cat wanted her as a potential packmate, but remained quiet so as not to spook her. That was nothing new. The animal knew no skittish submissive could handle the full force of a strange alpha who’d been baptized in blood.

Today, the smell of her fear tinged with a strange note had set his leopard into a hunting crouch, ready to rip out Shaw’s throat. She didn’t smell quite right, not wrong, but not quite like the cat she was. It wasn’t until he was behind the wheel again that his cat told him what that element was: she was on the verge of losing her humanity.

The protectiveness most predatory dominant changelings felt was magnified in him, something he had to carefully mitigate; changelings needed freedom to grow and thrive. When Jojo had reacted to Lorel, he’d carefully sifted through the sugar and spice layers of her scent and found nothing troubling.

Had he been ignoring possible warning signs because he wanted to play with the feral kitten? It was far too early to have allowed her that deeply into their territory, and he’d only conceded to the harebrained idea because he wanted to see if others in the pack reacted as favourably to her as he did. But there was no going back now. If he couldn’t drag her back from the edge, then he’d have to take her out as a last resort. He wasn’t ready to give up on her.

Unfortunately, being alpha meant that he had to put the pack’s needs above his own.

“You need to do something about that touch hunger,” Theo said when he came up for air, screwing the top back on his empty bottle.

“Don’t go there.” Pure alpha poured into every word.

“Your tension’s starting to affect the juvenile males.”

“Feet pue tan!” he cursed and punched a tree trunk. The rough bark split his knuckles and scented the air with blood. His sexual hunger was a constant pulse underneath his skin; it had to be driving the younger males crazy. When there were too many unmated dominants, that much unchanneled sexual energy tended to explode into violence that could tear a pack apart.

The only problem was the only one he wanted to sate his touch hunger with was an ocelot who’d rather hiss and claw at him than permit him skin privileges of any kind. Rather than being a deterrent, that was like catnip for predatory dominants.

He didn’t know why he cared so much about one female. She wasn’t pack, didn’t want to be, and was more trouble than she was worth. She refused to behave like any sane submissive faced with a predatory alpha, and she challenged him in ways women rarely did. She didn’t even recognize the favour he gave her by giving her protection, instead, she took it as a mortal insult like a female sentinel would!

“That’s what you get for headhunting loners.” Dropping out of a maple across the clearing, Elijah landed in a crouch before rising to his feet, shaking back his ridiculous mane of chocolate brown hair with a high, full undercut.

“You’re improving, I only heard you five minutes ago instead of ten.” Remi shook the painful numb tingling out of his hand. He was just yanking Elijah’s chain; no one made it to senior soldier without the ability to silently stalk their prey, no matter what form they were in.

“You know, Theo, if you mated, it’d help keep the balance.” Strong ties between men and women, either long-term relationships or those lucky enough to have mated, at the top of hierarchy stabilized the pack.,

“We’re talking about your sex life, or lack thereof, not ours. And, for the record, I am good on that front.” Elijah held up his hands, palms out.

“My sex life is not up for discussion,” scowled Remi.

A long low whistle. The two sentinels shared a look.

“That is one serious case of blue balls.” Dark brows climbed up Elijah’s forehead to disappear under the shaggy hair that draped over his forehead. Theo nodded in agreement.

“Stop talking about my balls and go play with your own.” Claws erupted from his fingertips. A severe overreaction for some teasing from packmates who were trying to keep him from going over the edge like he was right now.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he took a minute to get himself back under control. Theo and Elijah were very obviously not looking at each other, or him, for that matter. If they had, he might well have interpreted it as a dominance challenge with the state he was currently in.

Sometimes alphas did go bad. Within the span of four years, his own father destroyed what was once a solid, healthy pack. While very few of the sentinels could take Remi one on one, some of them were damn good snipers.

Not even an alpha could dodge a bullet they couldn’t see.

Lorel lay awake, staring at the ceiling, bone-weary and yet sleep eluded her. Her skin prickled and burned like a terrible sunburn, which she’d had enough of to know the sensation well, but she hadn’t been out in the sun long enough to burn. Her mind kept replaying the events of that afternoon on loop until her blood boiled and her fingertips tingled, the latter was one of the first signs of an involuntary shift.

The bedroom was larger than any of the ones in her various apartments had been, but the walls were too close, too confining. Slipping on a floral satin robe, she padded to the living room to look out the picture window.

Turning to pace back across the room, she paused facing the back door. Through that door and thirty meters away, the treeline began. The mountains began about three miles into the forest. She should be fine as long as she stayed to the lower elevations. Just because they claimed the whole county as part of their jurisdiction, their pack lands were further into the woods.

The thought of remaining in the house one second longer had her wanting to climb the walls. She felt caged as it was, her ocelot would go insane if trapped inside one second longer; it had spent enough years stuck inside the trappings of civilization.

But she didn’t have to remain confined within four walls anymore. There was an entire mountain to explore full of trees and rabbits and squirrels. As long as she remained on this side of the mountain, she was fine.

Shaking her head to dislodge the dangerous thought, she continued to pace. Her cat yowled inside its cage, protesting the close environs.

Living on her own at the edge of the woods, free to shift whenever she chose, was like being stuck in a free-fall with no idea when she was going to become a greasy smear on the pavement. What if the rabbits and squirrels she could hunt weren’t enough to keep her ocelot happy? One day she might sink into the madness permanently, her rational side and everything that made her human disintegrating.

In forums and magazines, other changelings talked about being in balance, never struggling for control. She knew that wasn’t true for everyone. It wasn’t true for her. It wasn’t true for her father.

And yet there was risk if they went long enough without shifting. Changelings who needed water to shift and couldn’t get to it in time could die. The last time she’d shifted was the week she’d moved to Bryson City two months ago. The beast slashed at the inside of her mind, demanding freedom, trying to break through the human shell. She’d learned to ignore the suffocating need to shift, but now she couldn’t breathe it was so strong. The blinding pain settled the issue for her.

The robe glided to the floor in a whisper of sound, leaving her nude in the hallway. She hated pajamas, she twisted and turned too much in her sleep until she woke tangled and choked in soft fabric. The sense of confinement was something she’d had to put up with until she’d moved out on her own. Her aunt, a self-proclaimed part-time nudist, didn’t care as long as she “put a towel down” if she was running around in her birthday suit.

Shivering in the chill night air, feet curling away from the damp floorboards of the porch, she shut the door behind her.

After holding onto control for so long, letting go of it was harder than maintaining it. The shift was supposed to be instantaneous, but it usually took her a minute and it didn’t happen all at once.

It was like her senses exploded from the inundation of input that threatened to overwhelm. The woman reached for control out of habit. The smell of blood, sharp and delicious, scented the air. Dominance over her own body slipped through her fingers and she dissolved into a million particles of shattering light

Changelings often spoke of the shift as ecstasy and agony, but for her it was mostly the latter.

She stretched, tail high, back bowed, and front paws flashing claws as she kneaded the grass then reached out to flex her claws on a tree, marking her home. The human’s protests were buried under the instincts of the cat.

Something tight and cramped unfurled in her chest, aching with sweet pain as it stretched for the first time in years. Ecstatic clarity that made her want to bound through the trees.

Heart singing in her chest, she sucked in great lungfuls of air. Woods flew by in a shadowed blur. Paws landing solidly, whiskers fluttering in the breeze. Brain switched off as she ran.

The close proximity of houses and the overwhelming plethora of scents that came from being inside the city limits was nothing new to the cat, only there was no stink that came with larger cities. She’d always taken care to keep to her home before, but the wall of trees just beyond the yard called to her.

The ground was springy with vegetable debris under her paws as she bounded through the trees. Cold air swept through her nose and wind ghosted through her fur. The sound of prey scurrying through the underbrush drew her deeper into the woods.

Muscles bunching and she pounced. Fur and flesh parted under sharp teeth. The worries of the woman no longer existed. Only blood and feeding the dark hunger that gripped her mattered.

Rodents, birds, lizards all fell under flashing claws and teeth. The cat could eat no more, yet still it hunted, leaving a trail of small bodies in its wake.

Eventually, the exhaustion weighing down her limbs overcame the need to kill. Curling up nose to tail in a hollow underneath a fallen tree trunk, she settled in to sleep.

2 notes · View notes

pernatius · 4 years

Text

Lost in Space Part 4: Ch 1

Summary: Having lost Earth, an unnamed Space Explorer is haunted by a mysterious, black figure as she begins to drift away from those closest to her.

Part 1: ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

Part 2: ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

Part 3: ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

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

Placing my hand on the glass, I look into my reflection. I note how old I am. In a few years, I’m going to be thirty, yet I still feel like a child. Yet I still act like a child. In my reflection’s eyes, I see my youth. I see how little I’ve grown. Then, when my eyes meet with my hand, they grow wide. It’s not in pain. More specifically, my wrist isn’t broken anymore. As I turn my attention towards my chest and lift it just enough to see where the bruises are supposed to be, I see that they’re gone too.

“I did warn you all that your unexpected arrival wouldn’t play out as hoped. Did I not,” the AI scolded us.

“And I did warn you that if you forewarned Cabelo of our arrival that I would shut you down permanently,” Skeema rebutted with a smirk.

“Yes, I made note of that. However, that would lead you to another problem, which would be learning how to steer this ship before getting captured by Cabelo’s guards. You think you have outsmarted me because that’s how you cope with miscalculations. You fear that you’re not as clever as that ego of yours taught you to believe because that’s all you have left.”

Skeema raised his newly morphed blade towards the AI. “I dare you to repeat that.”

Before the scene that’s grey can turn into something that’s black and blue and maybe red Ashely cuts and tapes it with a new scene, “Look, we all are on edge after what happened. I can sympathize with how you feel, Skeema, and even you, AI, I can see where you’re coming from, but fighting each other won’t help. Your problems won’t grow any smaller by continuing this, so please don’t make them any bigger.”

Like always she’s the sensible one. Like always she’s not like me. Like always she’s not me.

Lowering down his weapon and turning it back into a hand, “She is right.”

“It is true my programming keeps me loyal to Cabelo. However, that doesn’t mean I’m not loyal to Saamuki either. I know Saamuki wouldn’t want anyone here to get hurt, which is why I kept my word in being silent.”

With Saamuki’s name being said, Mikrovos’ head lowered. I know his heart dropped. I know it must’ve hurt hearing her name, but he remained still and kept quiet.

I’m not blaming him for it. Why would I? Why would I blame him for something that’s my fault? I got captured. I got them looking for me far too long, causing Saamuki’s relationship with her boss to turn into that, into a match that’s been bathing in flames for far too long. It’s split. It’s burned. It’s forever ruined. So, it’s because of me his heart meets the same faith. It’s forever broken. As I make myself smaller, as I think about it, I can feel a chill run up my spine.

Continuing to be someone I should be, “Is there a planet near here with edible food and of course one with breathable air?”

“Considering the lack of currency you all share, there is. It’s about a quadrant away from here. However, most of the planet is dangerous for non-native life. Much of the planet is covered in boiling, hot water.”

“As long as there’s enough land to keep us from coming into contact with it…”

Her voice trailed off as my ears focused on a familiar voice. It mumbled. In the corner of my eye, I turn to see a black shadow appearing on the glass. Turning around to meet it, I see it slowly creeping out of the glass, inching towards me. I jump once its hand touches my own, causing everyone to turn their attention towards me. With their eyes on me, I laugh it off as I note how it’s gone. Before or maybe in another timeline where none of it occurred, I would’ve gotten asked what happened, but now, this timeline with splotches of black paint staining it, they go back to talking and ignore me. Ashley is the first one to turn away. It hurt a bit. No, it hurt quite a lot, but I shake it off and with that, I see it’s gone. I probably imagined that awful sight, but the cold feeling that came with it still lingers. It’s like it’s still there. It’s like it was real.

It’s the largest landmass. We’re about half a mile away, which means we need to trek across a long strip of land, a bridge where on either side of it rests the infamous water, but at least we’re in front of a little town. Well, it’s on top of the highest mountain on the planet. If I squint hard enough, past the wall of steam, I can make a long, windy staircase circling the landform. There’s plenty of walking ahead and the heat emanating from the body of water before all of us isn’t helping. I can feel myself sweat in too many places. That desert planet Mikrovos and I were on was at least several degrees cooler than this.

“I guess it’s my turn again.” Mikrovos motions us to him.

“And risk you having all of us drop into that water? Mikrovos, you’ve helped more than enough already. You’re worn out enough as it is. Besides, the path over there could fit two of us walking side by side.”

She takes the lead, showing him she and the rest of us are perfectly fine using our own feet to walk. Mikrovos, seeing she’s too far to be worth arguing with, goes next. Skeema comes third. I’m last.

Because of the steam, the water is a deep shade of white. I watch a bubble rise from its surface and pop. It’s small, but it’s one out of the thousands of bubbles spread throughout the water’s surface. Each pop as quickly as they rose. Although, it’s much quieter and actually calming than one would expect. So, since my attention is focused on them, I’m caught off guard by the rising black mass making its way from underneath my nose. I didn’t make the connection that it’s the same dark figure I imagined not too long ago, so I get out my gun and shoot.

The blast causes water to splash towards me. I try to move away, but I’m not fast enough. Luckily, Skeema is. Blocking it from touching me, causes pieces of his arm to melt away. He’s able to reform it without much effort, but it doesn’t help me from feeling bad. Again, I let my emotions get the better of me and because of it, I caused more harm than good.

As he asks me what’s wrong, I watch the black figure disappear into the thickening steam around us. I tell him it’s nothing, but of course, he isn’t one to take my obvious lie so easily. He opens his mouth, but with a long, dark figure making its way from under and over us his words are cut abruptly.

I hear my heart pound. It’s like a drum. Its rhythm escalates with every step I take closer to Skeema. Its thunderous music sounds tribal. My sweat slithered off my face and splashed onto the dirt. My gun and both his newly made blades are at the ready. In the corner of my eyes, the water is still, quiet once again. Even though Skeema saw it too I still hope that it’s my imagination playing tricks on me again. With the rippling of the water and the beast shooting out from it, I’m taught how meaningless hope is. It’s just a word, so it can’t protect me from what’s happening right in front of me. It can’t save me from the real world and it’s certainly not able to prepare me for what happens next.

We split up before it can force us to. Doing so only buys us time. However, what're a few more seconds to the impossible? To us surviving this?

Wrapped around our so-called bridge, is the body of a serpent. At the very end is its hissing mouth. At the very least it cleared up the scene of its white tint. At least now Ashley and Mikrovos are visible.

If it’s not clear enough already, the beast is far larger than any of us. It’s dark green and at either side of its head are what I can describe are fins with a lighter shade of green. Underneath its nostrils are bright pink barbels. They sway along with its head as it spits at us. As the three are focused on that sight, I’m more focused on a smaller, yet more important one. One of them has the bruise that I caused by my irrational action. “She said she didn’t want to see any of us hurt, but fails to mention the giant serpent lurking in the water!”

After Ashley lets out her frustration, she and Mikrovos dodge the thrust of the serpent’s head. I shoot at it, knowing well it wouldn’t do much. Still, on the floor, Ashley shoots at it as well. They barely do anything to the beast but create more small bruises. So, both Mikrovos and Skeema dash and lunge towards the beast. His claws and the latter of the two’s blades cut into its flesh, causing it to bleed. Still, they barely make a mark. So, it easily overpowers them. Mikrovos gets hit and pushed all too close to the water. Thankfully, and because of Skeema’s quick thinking he’s able to hold onto the beast with one of his blades punctured into it and catch Mikrovos with his other arm before he can plunge to his death. Right when he does the beast swings around, wanting to get the two off of it.

Ashley then goes back to shooting the beast. Knowing her, it’s to make her its focus than at the men of our group. So, I break my attention from those two and join in as well. It, of course, comes at a cost because it makes its way towards us. Ashley and I ran back towards the ship. Its fangs nearly slice into us both. With Mikrovos sinking his horns into it he kills it before it can, or at least we thought he did because as soon as the two get off the beast rises back up again.

It’s about to grab Ashley with its deadly fangs. It’s about to kill her. She’s about to die and it would’ve been my fault but something from the other side of this thick steam sends a blinding beam of light that goes right through the serpent’s head. Finally, the beast lays dead in front of us. Although, quickly its decaying stench surrounds us. It’s about as foul as that sewer underneath Cabelo’s hotel.

As big of a problem that stench is becoming as I grow nauseous, the question of who made that finishing blow outweighs it. Thankfully, I don’t have to linger on it too long because it’s answered with a figure coming towards us. It’s human-like. It’s about the same height as Mikrovos, a bit shorter. As it walks, it’s footsteps come with thuds. They sound heavy, but they don’t look anywhere close to Mikrovos’ build.

Even though they saved us we don’t greet them as nicely as they would’ve hoped. They’re made out of metal. They’re a robot. With how it raises its arms, taking surprise and offense that Mikrovos has his claws inches from their neck, it’s about as advanced as the ship’s AI. Talking in a deep, masculine voice, “Is this how you treat someone that just saved your lives?”

“We’ve learned not to trust anyone but each other. Me especially,” Mikrovos responded. He brings his claws closer with that last part.

“I don’t mean any of you harm. This might sound harsher than I mean it to be, but if I was out here wanting to hurt any of you I wouldn’t have headed towards you. As you saw, I’m more of a long-ranged type of guy.”

It doesn’t take me that long to see it in his eyes. His eyes back up his words, so I move in front of Mikrovos and tell him what I see. He hesitates, but with me begging him to trust me he sighs as he lowers his hand.

“Thank you.” He gave me a genuine smile.

I smile back. It’s not as sweet as his.

Ashley shortens our moment with, “Are there more of you?”

“Yes. On top of that mountain up ahead,” he nudges towards it, “is my village.”

Bitterly she responds with, “Perfect. Can you lead us there because clearly, if we encounter another one of those serpents you’re the only one capable of handling them?”

“Of course. It is in my programming to be of assistance. Oh, my name is S1Y, by the way.”

“Ashely.”

After S1Y got to know our names, he did as Ashely asked. Besides adding him, our order has changed. This time Skeema and I are walking side by side. Neither of us said anything about the new arrangement, but I just assume it’s because he doesn’t want to repeat what happened. It’s not like I had any reason to not want it. It’s not like I have the right to. Still, even as he walked beside me I felt uneasy.

#194 #lost in space #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writers #creative writing #spilled ink #wlw #fiction #space

0 notes

grimmnelfanfics · 8 years

Note

Hey, what's up! Do you have something like Grimmnel in pregnancy? Xooxo

Four thousand goddamn words, you’re welc OME

“This was a mistake.”

What remains of the palace is scattered across a largespan of land, filled in between by sand blown over haphazardly by desertstorms. The building they’ve managed for their own had at one time belonged tosome lowly servant, nowhere near the grandeur they had been accustomed to attheir best. But better, they decide, than the alternative. There is a bed and aroof and clothes to pick from, four whole walls and doors with locks on them.It is so easy to forget these luxuries, and even easier to mourn them. Thefirst couple of weeks had come and gone without incident, they scavenged forfood during waking hours and kept to their sides of the single bed as theyslept. Narrow as it was, the sliver of space between had remained uncrossed.

The breath in is profound, it shifts the very darknessaround them. Every shadow leans into them, and then away as he sighs. It is fartoo warm in here, but he doesn’t bother unsticking his thigh from hersunderneath the damp sheets.

“I won’t disagree with you on that,” he replies, voicehushed. It settles light over this strained atmosphere, hardly piercing thesurface. “But let’s not start playing the blame game—I’ve seen it before, don’ttry and deny it—this all came about equal parts because of you and me. No one’smore at fault.”

She waits a beat or two, and then yanks the sheetsfrom her legs. “I’m gonna wash this off.”

There is a table in the corner, it cannot fit morethan two people. There is a slender entranceway a few paces away that works asa kitchenette. It is mostly intact, a cool metal box and an area for keepingnonperishables. Very little counter space, flickering fluorescents, and a fewdrawers with metal utensils. The door leading outside latches fine, but thereis no door for the bathroom. The shower is set directly in view of the bed,plastic white curtain and a simple slab of a mirror bolted to the wall. Thesink is tall, the faucet never stops dripping.

The clothes formerly belonging to the lowly servant islarge enough to fit him comfortably, but far too much fabric for her. Shecannot distinguish which she’d been wearing, they’d been flung every which wayin their haste to undress the other. She toes around until she hears him shift aboutin the bed, deciding to drop it for now. She doesn’t much like how the airfeels on her skin, it scatters coolly over her back and her arms and her legs.She doesn’t think about him staring after her, switching on the hot water andrummaging through some cupboards for some soap.

“Why don’t I join you?” he pipes up, as she’s steppingover the raised tile bordering the shower space. “We’d save some water. Younever know how much is left in the reserves.”

“Let’s not make this a thing,” she says, yanking thecurtain shut behind her. The water falls over her like a whip, she hissesquietly before pointing out, “The water pressure might be what’s putting us atrisk here.”

“I dug around a couple days ago, found a few partsthat might help with that. No tools though.” His voice is coming nearer, shetugs a section of hair to watch the water soak through. She doesn’t glance upwhen he tugs the curtain open again. “Just let this happen.”

“We’re not doing this. Once is quite enough.”

“How about this,” he says, bracing against the curtainrailing. “We’ll reset, as soon as we wake up. This never happened—it neverwill—we’re just two people trying to survive all over again.”

She considers this, folding her arms over her chest.It was a lapse in judgement, this hunger had arisen within them and what oncecould’ve been sated by the burn of blood on their hands could not be sated now.They had clawed and torn at one another until there’d been space for no more;the water trails over every bruise and scrape he had unwittingly left behind.Her gaze flickers over him, she has left whole lines of red where her nails haddug in and dragged out. These dark splotches on his throat. Angry marks thateasily outnumber the ones on her.

And still, there is so much left over she hasn’t quiteworked out yet. This flickering energy still bright enough to burn over.

When she finds his eyes, his teeth graze over hislower lip.

She tips her head, and he’s already closing the spacebetween them.

.x.

True to word, he does not make another advance towardher. The weeks go on without incident, every day they spend scrounging throughthe rubble for some way out of this. Now and again they come across another oneof their kind struggling for the same thing they are. But they return empty handedeach time, falling back into the rhythm of things. There are whole sectionsthey have not reached yet, he mumbles something or another and she supposesthat once another bed is made available, and another four walls, and anotherroof to sleep under, she will not see him nearly as often.

“He left this here,” he says, emptying out this sackonto the corner table. “Said we could contact him if anything gets too dicey.”

“Don’t touch it,” she replies, tossing fresh sheetsonto their shared bed. “I never want to see that man again, so long as I’mstill breathing.”

“The only reason you can stay sane is ‘cause of thatthing on your arm,” he points out, but doesn’t touch the device on the table.“Not saying I’m defending him.”

“I’ve more than paid him back for that.”

He turns his hand, palm up. “Then we won’t makecontact.”

Midway through the week after the next, she wakes witha start. Every muscle in his face is slack, she figures it’s been a couplehours since shuteye. Her skin feels cold, though he’s been very generous withthe sheets. She swallows around the dryness in her mouth, and then frees herlegs to swing them off the bed. The floor feels like ice against her feet, shestumbles toward the bathroom and only just makes it to the toilet. Sleek metal,entirely mismatched. Her fingers stick to the outer edges of the bowl andeverything twists up inside of her, the entirety of her body heaving as sheretches. Every scrap comes rushing out, bitter on her tongue.

Once, twice, three times and he appears at the doorwaywith a sleepy scowl.

“What the hell—what’s going on with you?” She almostdoesn’t hear him, any attempt made at responding to him is lost all over again.“You sound like you’re dying, what is this?”

“I—I’m—” she mumbles, and it’s like she’s lost controlof her muscles. She glances to find her fingers trembling. She folds inward,and now nothing’s coming out. Her head is pounding. “I—don’t know—”

Everything seizes up inside of her, she locks up andsqueezes her eyes shut and for a second she swears it’s one of the most painfulthings she’s ever felt.

A too-hot hand briefly drifts across the back of herneck, gathering up her hair. “What, did you overeat?”

She clutches at the fabric over her stomach. The mealhad run late, whatever he had managed to drag back for them had tasted justfine to her during. But maybe she had overestimated her appetite—lately, shehas been increasing her intake. “It’s… I’ve just been…hungrier. I must havepushed myself more than I should have.”

This isn’t a common phenomenon. She can’t remember thelast time her body has done this—too much of a bad thing in the system alwaysled to a reaction, most usually involuntary. It stands to reason his responseis, “Body knows better than you do, let it clean itself out.”

She coughs, gripping onto the bowl for dear life. Whenthe contractions in her middle let up, she pushes herself back. Her head lollsagainst his grip, the fingers in her hair loosen immediately and she slumpsmomentarily into his knees. He leans over her to flush the mess, and before shecan fall completely onto her back he stoops down to hook his arms under hers.He doesn’t entirely lift her off the ground, more drags her into the shower andleaves her awkwardly half sitting, half sprawled on the tiles.

“You look like hell,” he says, crossing the room forsome towels.

She groans, flinching when he suddenly switches theshower on. The water is, for the barest second, ice cold. He curses around anapology and quickly turns some knobs until it’s bearable. “My clothes,” sheprotests hoarsely, turning her head away.

“Meant to bring this up,” he dismisses, crouching downto gather up the hem of her shirt. “That old hunk of concrete by the southsector used to belong to one of ours—can’t tell who. Torn between Cuatro andPrimero. If it’s the former, there’s no chance in hell anything left over isgonna fit you. The latter, well. You won’t be any better than you are rightnow, but at least you have a better selection.”

He tugs the hem up toward her ribs, and then folds thefabric back over her breasts. There’s only a two second warning, her stomachclenches and she folds over. He doesn’t even get the chance to yank his handsaway before the rest rushes out. It tastes so bitter coming out, it turns tospit but not before it starts to feel like fire scraping out her throat.

“That’s a fucking sight,” he sighs, her hand isgripping his arm tight enough her own knuckles hurt. It’s all over his arm,past the wrist. He leaves his fingers open, she’s almost impressed by his calm.“Those stains aren’t getting out that shirt. How much did you eat?”

Not much, in all honesty. Whatever’s left comes inthin, painful strings.

As soon as she releases his arm he rinses off and thentugs his shirt over his head. He pulls the hem of hers down, takes hold of thecollar, and then tears clean down. He frees her arms from the sleeves andhoists her up by her elbows. “You can keep mine, I can go without a shirt.”

“What a surprise,” she manages, lifting her hips as heworks her pants off. “I’m feeling better—what are you doing?”

“Detox.”

.x.

“No.”

“Well, that’s no way to greet an old friend.”

The days have begun to grow sluggish, with the amountof food she can manage to hold down anymore she can only exert so much energy.It cuts her productivity by more than half, has her crawling back into bedearlier and earlier each time. She sees less of him, out like a light before hereturns and waking just as he’s heading out again. She misses two meals, justlike that, and suddenly everything comes to a screeching halt.

She manages an hour outside with her cheek pressed toa cool slab of concrete before she’s stumbling back again, and there she findsa most unpleasant sight. Sitting there, all too casually, at the tiny tableshoved up into the furthest corner. Legs crossed, chin in his hand, a slimysmile stretched thin across his face.

“You are no friend of mine,” she says coolly, and hissmile widens ever so slightly. “Why are you here?”

“A little bird told me you weren’t feeling so well,”Urahara explains, leaning over to tip off his hat onto the table. “I was giventhe impression I was called as a last ditch effort.”

She glances away, swallowing thickly.

“You certainly look worse for wear,” he commentsoffhandedly.

“I don’t want your help,” she mutters, tugging at thefabric over her abdomen. It feels like she’s swallowed lead.

“It doesn’t very much seem like you have a choice,” hedismisses, settling back in his seat. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ve cleared myschedule for you.”

.x.

She’s sprawled across the bed by the time Grimmjowreturns, his shirt bundled around some meat he’d managed to carve out of somepoor beast. She can smell him from this distance and it’s rancid, unpleasant tothe nose. She winces and turns her face toward the mattress, too drained to domuch more. She doesn’t know how long she’s been laying here, time has decidedto move much quicker now that this weight has been dropped on her.

“You were looking kinda fucked up,” he says, moving intothe kitchen to dump the meat in the sink. “I know you don’t like the man, but—”

“What’s done is done,” she replies, voice muffled.“You don’t owe me an explanation. There are more important things to bediscussing right about now.”

She hears him switch on the faucet to rinse the meatwith, allowing her words to stew.

“I think I’m gonna need to relocate,” she says numbly,rolling onto her back. “This place—this world—isn’t fit for me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” He’s standing with his shoulderleaned against the doorway, arms folded across his broad chest. His arms arespotted in blood, hair plastered to his temples and forehead with sweat, mouthpulled into a deep frown. There is more red than white on his pants, his bootsare the most pristine things on him. “What’d he say to you? You look all pale.”

She considers the ceiling for a moment. “Nothing ofimportance. At least nothing that involves you,” she sighs, shutting her eyes.

“So you’re leaving,” he states, voice drawing near. “Areyou that sick?”

“Does it matter?”

“Look, I’m not trying to stop you. I’m just trying toget the facts straight here. You said you wanted to rebuild this place from theground up, it sounds a lot like you’re willing to give that up.”

“I’m not saying I’ll be gone forever—just long enoughI can take care of this little problem and set myself back on track.” She rubsa hand over her face. “Besides, this way you can have a place for yourself. I’msure by the time I recover from—this—you’ll have found something morecomfortable. If not, I’ll certainly be able to find my own place alone.”

“You act as if I give a flying fuck about living withyou, what’s got you all weird? What’s this thingyou gotta take care of? Why you being all shifty?”

“You’re making something out of nothing, it’s just asickness—”

“Don’t try and backtrack, Nelliel,” he cuts her off.“I heard what you said, you’re talking like whatever the fuck’s going on withyou is… I don’t know, entirely separatefrom you.”

“You misheard, then,” she smooths over. “UraharaKisuke tells me he can cure my ailment easily, but I’ll need time to recover.Somewhere stable, with plenty of medicine on hand. What I’m getting at is thatI’ll need to relocate to the Human World to stay with that…man, until I am fullyrecovered.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. She hears himmove away, the faucet switch off, the small apartment grow deafeningly quiet.She counts her breaths, on the fifth or sixth she feels a strange shift in theair. She hardly has a chance to process this before she feels the bed jolt, hisbody fall onto hers. She scrambles to push him off, but the thought alone isexhausting enough. His fingers wrap around her wrists idly, and she drops theeffort entirely.

“What are you doing?” she asks, sounding moreinconvenienced than anything.

“I’m just wondering what the fucking deal is,” he saysconversationally, right into her ear. “I’m busting my ass feeding you, cleaningup after you—you looked like you were dying, you know that? Who the fuck d’youthink was keeping you alive up till now? You act as if it’s not my business toknow what’s wrong.”

She doesn’t want to answer, for how repulsive hesmells now she can’t deny the odd sense of comfort this instills in her. Thewarmth of his body, and his breath, and the way his voice rumbles through her.She squeezes her eyes shut, and tries very hard not to soak it all in. “It’s…”she begins, turning her face away when he lifts his head. “He called it ananomaly.”

His eyes are too blue, too intent. They cut past thefat of the lie and leave her reeling, she doesn’t know how she thought shecould fool him before.

“That time you and I…you know,” she mumbles, unwillingto say it.

He’s not so delicate. “When we fucked.”

“I wasn’t—we weren’t going to acknowledge it.”

“Suppose the circumstances demand we do.”

She stares past him, at the ceiling. Or at the frayedhair above his ear. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re shitting me.”

.x.

“See, that just doesn’t make any sense,” he says,dragging his fingers through his hair. He’s lying beside her on their tinyshared bed, he smells of sweat and blood and whatever else has gotten itselfstuck on his skin and she just wants to curl up and sleep for a few hours. Thissilence has gone and stretched itself thin between them, and she’s not surewhat to make of it. If it’ll bleed itself into them the way he has into her.“These things just don’t happen.”

“That’s why it’s an anomaly,” she sighs, as he dropshis arms back to his sides. “That’s why I wanna fix it—there’s no telling whatwill come of this.”

Grimmjow does not speak for a moment, eyes tracing thecracks in the ceiling in smooth lines. When he turns his head to look at her,she has taken to tracing the lines of hisface. Smooth, hardly there imperfections. The angle of his nose, the curveof his mouth, the flecks of hair too thin to catch the color of. His lashesaren’t long, but they’re dark and defined and they make his eyes far too bright.Too sharp.

It’s hard to look away now, and she doesn’t know why.

“Don’t call me sentimental,” he warns, and she snapsher mouth shut. His hand lifts to touch her face, almost gentle. “But aren’tyou wondering the same thing I am?”

“Let’s not allow our curiosity to get the best of us,”she replies, and yet cannot bring herself to shake him off.

This is, for him, enough incentive to say, “Aren’t youwondering how this’ll play out?”

“It’ll be a monster,” she breathes, and swallows audiblywhen his thumb—roughened, calloused, sandpaper on her skin—drifts slightly. “Itwon’t be natural. This doesn’t happen, we cannot produce life. We as a peoplecame about through devouring others, and this…this thing…”

“Don’t you think us capable of evolution?” he asks,all too serious. “All things considered, you’re quite a powerful creature.Imagine combining us two, what it would mean—”

“Are you honestly telling me,” she says, voiceraising, “that you’re thinking about the—the abilities this thing will have?”

“Don’t call me heartless, either,” he snaps, movingonto his side. “I’m talking about how far we, as a people, will have come if wewere able to—yes—produce life.Imagine what this would do. The wayswe could grow.”

“That’s quite a progressive thought,” she allows,turning her head toward his shoulder. “I never thought you capable.”

“I’m only asking, on the off chance this is theonly…anomaly we will be able to produce, that you consider not…fixing it.”

“You’re not in your right mind,” she scoffs, moving tosit up.

He presses one hand to her lower abdomen, pushing herback down firmly. “This child willsurely be a step in some direction.Whether it’s right or wrong, we won’t know unless we allow this to run itscourse.”

“This was a mistake,” she counters, angling her faceaway as he lowers down beside her.

“That it most definitely was,” he agrees, pushing hishand under her shirt to feel the cool skin of her stomach. It sends a strangespark up her spine, makes her teeth lock together and her fingers curl tightinto the sheets. “But it was entirely natural.”

.x.

“We’ll give it another week,” she says, wringing herhair out from the shower. “Then we’ll need to go to the Human World for somesupplements and extra materials. Urahara Kisuke volunteered some help to builda home for…our child.”

“That must taste bitter on the tongue.”

“We’ll have to cease our activities for now untilwe’re safely settled in,” she disregards him. “We don’t know how long thispregnancy will take. If it’s anything like a human’s, it will span an entirenine months. But, since you and I copulated about two or so months ago, we haveabout seven or six left.”

He sweeps his damp hair back with one hand, sparingher a glance. “Don’t think staying another week is a good idea. You’re alreadystarving yourself as is. I’m assuming the kid needs food.”

“I will not subject myself to that man’s…antics anysooner than I need to.” She tugs a clean shirt on, and then searches around forsome pants. “If I can put it off, I will.”

She jolts, his arms coil round her middle from behindand his chin rests on her shoulder. For a brief moment, she nearly jerks herelbow back into his ribs. He smiles smoothly at her reflection. “You surpriseme, Nelliel,” he murmurs, hands drifting across her belly. “I thought you’d bemore nurturing.”

He’s still dripping from head to toe, it soaks throughthe back of her shirt. She twists away, brushing his arms off. “Let’s not dothis. I get to decide what we do or don’t do with it—with—with our child. Iwant to wait another week before we have to deal with him.”

“I’ll try and understand the animosity.”

.x.

They go two days, he finds her curled up behind a slabof concrete no more than a mile out and decides that’s as far as they’regetting. There’s not much to pack, a few articles of clothing they can’t tellapart and a pillow she’s become irrationally attached to. From the doorway,it’s a measly little closet space with dust collecting at the corners. It’s agiven they won’t be coming back to this place; somebody, at some point, willtake it as their own.

Urahara Kisuke meets them on the other side with asharp smile and a tipped hat, ushering them forth into his home. It’s not much,there’s a room somewhere on the other side and a closet full of clothes thatfit the angles of her body too well for comfort. She settles into bed thatnight after a light meal and tries not to flinch when Grimmjow places a hand onher lower abdomen.

Nothing visibly grows for weeks, but they tell herthere is most certainly something there.

“Human technology is a wonder,” she comments idly morethan once, flipping through the thick sheets of glossy paper placed right intoher hands. The images are black and white, she almost can’t pick out the image.But there is a face, and a hand, and she feels a strange weight settle at thepit of her stomach. “It can see what I can’t.”

“I wonder whose genes are the more dominant,” hemurmurs, searching perhaps for the angle of a nose. The shape of a jaw. “I wantyour skin.”

“That’s a disturbing thought.”

“What do you hope for?” he asks, regardless. “A boy,or a girl?”

“I doubt it matters.” She hands him the photos,stepping away to smooth the creases from her shirt. “We can’t control whatcomes.”

Living in this man’s home demands recompense,Grimmjow’s labor for her comfort. Nothing particularly tiresome, only thehumiliation of playing the role of lowly servant. He is not above complaining,but as the swell of her belly becomes more and more prominent he takes toholding his tongue. She is well fed here, with the proper equipment on hand toaid her when the time comes. Things run quicker than, they say, a humanpregnancy. And so time, they come to understand, is of the essence.

.x.

The first sign of movement within her comes in thedead of night, his fingers spread over her skin more so out of habit. He joltsbefore she has a chance to, pressing her onto her back to sweep his hand overher stomach carefully.

“Where’d you go, you little fucker?” he mutters,prodding along her sides. She sighs, not bothering to stop him. “You can’t hidein there forever.”

“There won’t be enough space to, soon,” she says,promptly taking his wrist and guiding it toward her ribs. It’s only a flutter,maybe a hand. Maybe a foot. She doesn’t know how to distinguish yet. But hepresses down all the same, breath shallow. “Urahara says they’ll be big, sinceneither you nor I are small.”

“I hope they’re bigger than me,” he murmurs, and itcatches her off guard. “I hope they’ll be stronger than the both of uscombined.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she chastises, and jolts whenhe shifts down her body to press his mouth to the spot just underneath herribs. Not quite a kiss, but too tender to be anything else.

“Come out,” he whispers, and it’s clear he is notspeaking to her. “I want to meet you now. I want to give you a name.”

Some strange rise of emotion comes over her, it leavesher skin cool but her chest undeniably warm. She puts her fingers in his hairand she can’t decide whether to pull him in closer or push him off altogether.His eyes, they flicker over until they lock on hers. Intent, whollyunderstanding. He presses his mouth against her skin once more, and this timeshe can’t take it for anything else.

“You’ve got a glow about you,” he says, and thenplaces another kiss on the swell of her breast. “I don’t want them to have youreyes, though. I don’t want two pairs of the same look—you’re too much alone.”

Her breath trembles, his hands drift over her sidesonce more to settle where her waist had once been. This child, it has deformedher. There is no reason or rhyme anymore, no clear distinction from one end tothe other. Her feet are swollen in the morning and she wears his shirts now,she has to waddle when she walks. She wonders if she’ll ever go back to normal,if she’ll ever recognize her body in the mirror again.

His mouth closes over hers for a few long moments, shefeels his tongue for a split second before she turns her head from him.

“Our child isinside of me,” she hisses, heart pounding inexplicably. “They can feel, too.”

“That’s a fucking thought,” he replies evenly,settling one hand on her belly again. “Tell me something, now that we’re on thesubject.”

The house is still, their voices soften to whispers asa cricket’s song begins from somewhere outside. He’s staring right at her face,unabashed.

“If we’re raising this kid together, which I’massuming is implied,” he says, smoothing one calloused thumb across hernavel—now flat, stretched tight. “Does that make us a couple?”

She holds his gaze, half unwilling to give. “That,too, is implied.”

There’s a brief flicker of a smile on his face, shehardly catches it before his mouth finds hers again. It only lasts a second orso, his tongue swiping over her lower lip as he pulls away. “That’s that,” hesays, tugging her shirt back over her stomach. “No backing out now.”

.x.

“Let’s go back,” she says, watching him from the porchas he sweeps. The sun falls over him in an almost alien fashion, it paints himfar too bright for her liking. His hair an eyesore, where the moonlight colorsit prettily. He huffs, swiping his bangs back. “Let’s go back, as soon as thebaby’s born.”

This is no place for them, the air tastes funny on theway in and every day passes in a flurry. Too quick. It leaves her feelingweightless, as if she’ll lose her footing at any given moment. She twists herfingers into the skirt they have provided her and suddenly she doesn’t want tobe in her own skin. Those children, they stare as if she doesn’t belong. Everyday, it becomes very much apparent that she does not. She meets his gaze fromacross the way, and it feels as if he knows exactly what she’s thinking.

“Let’s go home,” she whispers, hands going clammy.“Let’s leave this place.”

.x.

Since there’s a lot of prompts in my inbox dealing with GrimmNel having a kid, and this one specified “pregnancy,” I’m just gonna leave it here.

#grimmnel #grimmjow x nelliel #grimmjow x neliel #grimmjow #nelliel #Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez #Nelliel Tu Oderschvank #my fanfic #woo #i've had this in my files for a couple months now #i can finally post #anonymous #fanfic

65 notes · View notes