#for learning where he carries tension and what areas get sore the most

[apocalypticwafflekitten]

Bells Will Be Ringin’

Darth Maul x Reader, but this time it’s Christmas (Life Day) A/N: Hey! I’m back with another story for Maul! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get another story out! I have a couple requests that I’m working on, but since it’s Christmas Break for me, I should be able to get them out pretty quickly! Requests are open by the way! Feel free to send them in!   

Also, I may come back in and do some editing on this piece in the next few days. I want to get it out now so I have time to work on other requests during break!

Original Idea/Summary Thingy: Christmas Blues^TM, but there’s a happy ending, so it’s okay! 

Warnings: None unless you count a sad and mildly bitter Maul. 

Word Count: 3356

(P.S. I listened to “Please Come Home For Christmas” covered by The Eagles while writing this, so feel free to feel that vibe if you wish. I also absolutely stole the title from the first lyrics and then found a way to work it into the story.)

The snow fell in fleets of faint flakes. And he felt his heart fall with them.

It wasn’t that the snow wasn’t beautiful. Rather, it was what lay beyond the flurry that made his heart sore. He felt the icy breath of loneliness drop beneath his collar as he rested his chin on his hand and peered out the window. 

You were there. Just beyond the pane of glass. He had to swallow his heart at the sight. You looked beautiful, reaching up to catch a flake on your fingertips. He couldn’t keep his gaze from lingering on your lips. Your bright smile warmed his chest, and he wished for nothing more than to be out there with you.

But something gold caught his eyes. And his heart clenched. His brother walked beside you, and you smiled even brighter when he showed you the flake that had landed on his fingertip. A sorrowful sigh slipped from Maul’s lips as he watched you walk with his brother.

Savage had been the one to meet you. You had bumped into him while chasing after your rouge scarf that the wind had carried away, and Savage had kindly snatched it out of the air for you. He’d see you in passing afterwards and invite you into the palace for tea. That’s how Maul met you. You were having tea with Savage, and he had walked in on the two of you.

From the moment he saw you, he was enamoured; enraptured.

Savage properly introduced the two of you and you started spending a great deal of your time with them.  

And Maul fell hard.  

Everytime Maul hung out with you and Savage, he could feel himself growing weaker and weaker for you. 

Eventually you would get invitations to the palace from Maul himself. It was usually on weeks where Savage was off dealing with the syndicate, but there were occasions when you would come to see him on your own regardless of whether Savage was gone or not.

You’d talk about everything with him, and more often than not, he’d open up about himself in return. But rather than focusing on his plans or other bigger things in life, you learned that he loved a sweet chamomile tea, or a rich mulled wine in the cooler months. He had grown an interest in Mandalore’s classic literature, and there was something inexplicable about the city’s architecture that put a glint in his eyes. It was wonderful to see him talk about the things he liked. It seemed like he didn’t get to do that often, and the way he lit up when he got going about his passions made you smile big and bright. 

Upon the cool stone of his throne, Maul drowned himself in memories of you. The bit of bitterness that sprouted when his brother wrapped a hand around your shoulder melted away when he thought of the times you would laugh at something he had said and use his shoulder to keep yourself up.   

Your touch always left a soft tingle on his skin, even when you only touched his shirt. Your hand was soft and the way you held this hand when you comforted him had such a gentle strength to it. Your fingers were featherlight on his skin, but he had never felt as though stronger hands had held him. Not that he had had much experience in the area. Still, your touch was enough to send his heart reeling for hours. 

“If only her lips could grace my skin.” 

“She’d never do that and you know it. Besides, she loves another doesn’t she?” 

Your ringing laughter sent a jolt through Maul’s heart as you entered the palace,  “Savage! Put me down!” You giggled as Savage passed through the glass doors.  

“But Miss (Y/L/N), You’re tired! You said so yourself! A tired lady shouldn’t have to walk herself home!” Savage laughed along with you. 

“Yes, but a Lady also shouldn’t be slung onto your back and carried around like a rag doll!” 

You both burst into fits of laughter and Maul only watched and silently yearned from his seat. He wanted that; to cause you happiness in that way. But he was left to the seat of Mandalore’s throne; governing and making deals while you enjoyed the snow flurrying outside.   

“Maker how I wish I could leave for a day. Just to be with her. No deadlines, no time limit. Just her, a warm fire, and the snow outside. Is that so much to ask? Savage is gone next week, perhaps-”   “Hey Maul!”  you greeted with cheer, once again jolting him back into reality. 

“Hello Miss (Y/L/N),” Maul returned, “It’s lovely to see you today. Enjoying the snow?”  

“Yes! It’s beautiful outside! Albeit a little cold, but Savage and I are going to sit by the fireplace in the south sitting room to warm up if you’d like to join us.” You offered. 

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid I can’t today. I still have some meetings to attend, and there’s some paperwork that I have to get through after that.” He answered with remorse, and a look that seemed to say ‘I’m sorry’.

“Oh,” For a second Maul thought your face fell and a pang of guilt shot right through his heart, but you began to speak again with an optimistic lilt to your voice, “Well, if you happen to have the free time, you’re welcome to join us!” Your lips meet in a smile, and Maul’s chest floods with reassuring warmth. Gosh was he thankful for the dark hue of his skin. 

“I just may if I can.” Maul smiled back and waved as you walked off with Savage, once again laughing at something he said. 

“And now begins the fun part.” Maul muttered to himself sarcastically as he stood to leave for his next meeting. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

As soon as his last meeting was over, Maul whisked himself down the hall, headed for the one place he wanted to be: The south sitting room.  

“The paperwork can wait. She’s more important.”

His hearts thrummed in his chest at the mere thought of cozying up with you next to a fire; getting to feel your warmed skin against his. It was a dream he couldn’t hope for more.

“A little to the left.”   

“Oh. Yep....right......there” You breathed out as Savage worked a knot out of your shoulder. 

Maul’s hearts dropped.

He heard your voice from behind the door to the sitting room. You sounded so happy, so pleased. He would have been happy to hear you this way were it his crimson hands soothing the stiff muscles beneath your skin.   

But the hands kneading your back weren’t crimson, nor were the tattoos the same. They were gold, and soft, and gentle; so very much unlike his own.  

Maul cursed himself at the sight of you sitting on the floor between Savage’s legs, reveling in the released tension and relaxation f a nice massage.

“That feel good?” Savage asked sweetly, “Not too hard?” 

“Absolutely not. It feels amazing.” You close your eyes and lose yourself in the warm feeling of his hands working a little below the base of your neck.  

“Good” Was Savage’s rumbled reply.   

Maul took a step back before leaning against the opposite wall. 

“That’s right. She’s someone else’s. Maker, how could I have been so foolish? Of course she loves Savage over me, I mean, who wouldn’t? Why would she ever-” 

No. He had to stop for his own sake. 

So Maul stood straight and turned towards his office. At least he had paperwork to do. That could keep his mind occupied instead of wallowing in regret for the night. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The paperwork did nothing to quell his thoughts of you. He couldn’t stop thinking of how happy you sounded in Savage’s hands. How pleased you had to have felt. Why couldn’t he do that? Why couldn’t you love him?

“Would you like some tea?”   

Maul looked up from the hundreds of pages of contracts and negotiations on his desk to see you standing in the doorway to his office with two mugs of steaming hot tea.  

“I’d love little else more right now.” He replied, letting out a long sigh, and stretching his aching back.  

You handed him a mug, and sat across from him, looking out at the snow behind the glass of the large window beside you.  

“How’s the paperwork going?” You glanced over to the thousands of sheets of paper littering his desk, feeling sorry that he had to go through all of that. 

“It’s uneventful. For the most part, it’s to do with the syndicate and their insatiable requests. It’s very repetitive.” He paused for a moment before quietly speaking up, “It’s nice to have your company.”  

You gave him a warm smile while a blush creeped it’s way up your cheeks. 

“I’m happy to hear that. I like spending time with you.” You admitted, looking to your mug in the slightly tense silence. 

There was a long moment of silence following where Maul’s pen scribbled against the paper, and you looked from the place where the pen and paper met, to his hand, to the curve of his cheek and the red of his skin. Your eyes dared to look at and linger on his lips. He muttered something through a sigh and you couldn’t help the way your heart clenched.

But then he moved. He looked up and you darted your eyes to a random building on the skyline and the snow that was starting to spill over the edge of the roof.  

“Look at her.” 

“Even when she’s not trying she’s beautiful.”  

Maul watched as you looked out the window. He could sense a tenseness in your muscles, but he was distracted by the way the silver light glinting off the snow lined your face, and the way you gently lifted your mug of tea to your lips, letting the steam billow to the ceiling as you sipped the drink. 

“Hell, she’s just looking at the snow and I can’t look away.” 

“Maker, those lips....” 

“If only...” 

“I’m so excited for Savage to see what I got him for Life Day.” You smiled out the window, trying to play off your nerves, hoping he hadn’t noticed you staring.  

“What?” He asked, quickly looking back to his paper as you leaned on his desk.  

“I said that I was excited for Savage to see what I got him. I worked pretty hard on it, and I want to know if he likes it.” 

That snapped Maul from his state of admiration. A sprout of something bitter burned in his chest. He remembered what he had seen through the doorway this afternoon, and clenched his fist with a quiet growl. 

“I’m sure he’ll like it. Your lover is appreciative of anything you would make for him.” Maul barely tried to hide the bitter envy in his tone, and yet, you didn’t seem offended. 

But you did look up at him with a quirked brow. 

“My lover? Maul, what do you mean?”  

And for the smallest second, in the teeniest of amounts, a little pang of hope surged through Maul, but he took it with an air of caution.

“I mean my brother. He’s your lover is he not?” He dared to ask, hearts beginning to race, beating against his chest. 

There was a moment of silence before you burst into giggles that grew to full blown laughter.

No matter what Maul could have expected, he was not prepared for you to laugh at him. Still, as confused as he was, he was silently hopeful of your response.

“Oh of course not!” You couldn’t breathe you were laughing so hard, “I mean, sure, he’s handsome, but he’s just a close friend,” You paused for a beat, looking to Maul before looking down to your mug, “Besides, I’ve got my heart set on someone else.” 

Maul’s eyes flew up to your face. His heart was in his throat and his grip on his pen tightened. 

“So, you’re...you’re not in love with my brother?” Maul swallowed thickly. He needed to know if he heard you right.

“No, I uh..I-”   

This was his chance.

“I love you.” Maul rushed out without a second thought, “I love you so much. I know you probably don’t feel the same, and whoever you hold affections for is the luckiest man in the galaxy, but I can’t hide it any longer. Maker, I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you, and-” 

He cut off when he saw the huge smile on your face. 

Before he could move or try to explain himself, you rushed around his desk and threw yourself around him, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. 

He stood stalk straight for a minute, tensing at the feeling of your arms around his neck.

“Did I just....? I just told her? Like that?.....And now she’s.....she’s....” 

He felt your arms squeeze him tighter, and as if on instinct, his arms wrapped around your waist and held you pressed against him, his nose burying into your shoulder.  

“I love you too.” You whispered into his ear, hugging him even tighter, and pressing your cheek to his.  

You felt Maul pull away from you, and he looked deep into your eyes. He took a moment to watch the wide-eyed, curious look on your face. He could see the billions of questions racing through your mind, and he felt his heart beating just as fast. And then his eyes looked to your lips. He couldn’t help it. You were so beautiful, and your lips were so tempting. He felt a dragging pull in the Force, and he could barely hold himself back. 

“Please let me kiss you.” Maul all but begged.  

You smiled up at him, a surge of happiness flooding your signature, as your eyes brightened, and a blush warmed your cheeks.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”   

Maul’s face fell, brows scrunched in confusion.

“I....I said that out loud?”  

Your smile grew even larger if possible as you snorted a laugh from behind your hand. 

Peeking up at him once you’d composed yourself for the most part, you let our a little chuckle with your response.

“You did.” 

Your wide smile and, admittedly adorable, laughter only fueled his embarrassed panic.

“Oh, I-I-I’m so-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...I’ll just...” 

Your gaze softened as you reached out and took Maul’s hand in yours. You held it there in front of you for a moment, gaging his response before lifting it further. He silenced as he watched you lift his hand slowly to your lips. His breath hitched at the first sting. Your lips kissed the tip of each finger, sending ticklish tingles shooting up through his hand into his wrist. You were slow and caring, and that gentleness he had come to love about you, it was there too. 

His chest heaved with labored breath, but when you looked up at him he swore his hearts stopped. Your wide, bright eyes looking at him like that...a shiver darted down his spine, and he had to swallow his heart for the second time that day.

“Please kiss me Maul.” You whispered to him, voice full of want. 

Before he had time to think, or rationalize, he slammed his lips to yours, reveling in the soft, plush feeling of your lips on his. He held you close to him, pressing your body to his as your lips moved together.  

He was on fire. His body was warm and every new kiss was the smallest sting to your lips. Even his fingertips burned a little. But it felt good.

When you pulled away, his lungs jolted for breath, begging for him to breathe for even a second despite how breathtaking your soft, gentle lips where.  

He looked to you with wide eyes and you did the same. 

You stood there for a few seconds, looking at his eyes at first, then looking to his lips.   

They were so soft. So...fiery. 

“Maul...” Your voice cracked out of a whisper, eyes still trained on his lips.

“Y-yes dear?” His voice was breathy and curious. 

You broke fro your daze and looked away from him.

“I...I know I said that I love you too, but I want you to know that I...I fell for you the first time I met you. You were so handsome and beautiful. I..I don’t know what it was but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” You huffed a laugh, looking down to where you held his hands, “I used to worry that you would find me creepy because I stared so much. But you were so beautiful. And I remember the first time I heard your voice. It was so soothing, and I swear I melted right then and there.”  

You paused for a moment, remembering back to those days. You smiled and looked anywhere but his face, eventually landing on the fire crackling in the fireplace across the office and the warm orange glow that lit up the room now that the sun was set.

“And then I got to know you. It took some time, but I loved getting to know the little things about you. Even the smallest idiosyncrasies, like the the way you crack your knuckles before you get to work, or the way you purr quietly when you drink a good cup of tea. It all added up to a person who was more than their scary reputation. You weren’t the ruler of Mandalore to me. You weren’t a feared Sith Lord. You were just like another person. You were my friend, and in time, I wanted more than that. I fell in love with you, and I...I just feel...right when I’m with you. I want to be with you.”

You huffed a nervous laugh and looked back to his hands. You took a moment to admire the crimson hue of his skin and the black tattoos that adorned them as you tried to hide the burning blush that was growing across your cheeks. 

Maul was hesitant, but he hooked one of his fingers under your chin to lift your face to his.  

You were met with wide, teary eyes, and a huge smile. 

Maul didn’t have any words to describe how his hearts ached with astonishment. To think that someone loved him that way; that you saw him that way, without fear or worry. You wanted him. You really wanted him. After all this time. It was him. Not another Mandalorian, not his brother. Him. He couldn’t help the toothy grin that spread across his face, and the pure love that bloomed in his chest. He wanted you to know what that meant to him, but he didn’t know how to say it, so instead he pressed his lips to yours once again, hoping that you would feel the strength of his adoration and love for you.  

You held the sides of his face as your lips locked together once more. In that moment, when his soft, fiery lips took yours again, everything in the galaxy seemed to shift, and you felt at peace with his arms wrapped tight around your waist. 

You pulled away from him to rest your forehead against his.  

“I know you know, but I love you. To the stars and back.” 

“I love you too my dear. To the stars and back.” 

The two of you sat in this embrace for minutes which grew to feel like hours. 

But amidst the firelit darkness and your sweet embrace, silver chimes rung through the city. Beautiful bells sang out the twelfth hour, announcing the beginning of a new day to all who were awake to hear.

Maul looked down to you with a content smile. 

“Happy Life Day my darling.”  

You smiled joyously into his neck. “Happy Life Day Maul.”  

And with one more kiss, the two of you started the happiest holiday of your lives. 

Tags! 

@justalittlecloud​ 

@fanficsforheartandsoul​ 

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#darth maul #darth maul x reader #darth maul imagine #Yay! Holiday Stories! #I really like this one #let Maul be happy #I just think he's neat

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Good as Gold pt. 7

[part six] | [part eight] [prostitute!Jaskier masterpost]

Geralt doesn't get far from Hagge before the shame and guilt catch up with him and he realizes he's just left Jaskier there without so much as an explanation. Fuck. He should have known this couldn't last long before he'd inevitably fuck it up. He wants to turn in the opposite direction, head west and get as far as he can from Hagge and never return. There are other Witchers who can take care of problems in the area, there's no reason Geralt need ever come back.

Only he knows he can't leave Jaskier like that. He owes him an explanation at least after Jaskier was so kind to him when no one else was. But he can't go back right now, Jaskier would surely have him thrown out and then he'd never get a chance to apologize. So, grumpy and angry and wracked with guilt, Geralt heads for Ban Gleán.

He picks up a contract for a werewolf to keep his mind off of things and to work out some of the excess energy. The hunt doesn't go exactly as anticipated and as he turns back toward Hagge, his purse slightly heavier than before, his whole body aches.

By the time he's bathed and clean, it's getting late and Geralt is no less stiff than when he departed Ban Gleán three days prior - if anything, he feels worse. But he made a promise to himself and now that the anger has drained from him, replaced only with simmering guilt, he's determined to keep that promise. As he approaches the brothel, a woman scoffs at him and he wonders if she saw him leaving last time or if she saw Jaskier afterward. The one woman who acknowledges him inside is no more kind and Geralt braces himself for the worst.

Geralt did a lot of stupid things the last time he was here and he wouldn't blame any of them for telling him to leave - not least of all for the marks he left on Jaskier's back. Jaskier will probably turn him away, even if the others don't.

But by some miracle, he runs into Jaskier in the hall upstairs and he seems, for lack of a better word, relieved to see Geralt again. A small smile crosses his lips and he reaches out tentatively, brushing a hand down Geralt's forearm.

"Hey," he says softly, "I wasn't sure you'd be coming back. Certainly not this soon. Is something wrong?"

"Can we talk in your room?" Geralt asks, expecting to be turned down for somewhere more public, somewhere with witnesses. Jaskier just clasps his hand and turns toward his room.

Once inside, he shuts the door behind him and when his back is turned, Geralt can see the remnants of his work. The bruises are smaller now, faded, but still there and shame wars with something like pride inside him, but he pushes both feelings aside, reaching out to brush his fingers over the darkened skin.

"I'm sorry," he says, frowning at Jaskier's shoulders. "I got carried away last time, I shouldn't have-"

Jaskier turns, taking both his hands and setting them on his shoulders, pushing closer against Geralt's chest. "I know," he says quietly, "that I said no marks, but I liked it. I like looking in the glass and seeing them. Reminds me of you." Geralt scoffs and turns away, but Jaskier leans in, nosing under his jaw. "Last time was incredibly hot, Gealt, though I get the feeling you weren't feeling exactly yourself."

"No. I shouldn't have... I could have hurt you."

"Oh, darling, I've had so much worse."

"That doesn't make it okay," Geralt grumbles.

"Sure, you marked me up a bit," Jaskier shrugs, "but honestly, I wanted you to. If I didn't, I would have stopped you. But you didn't do anything I told you not to and you felt amazing. So why don't we just forget about last time, hm?" He plants his hands on Geralt's chest, pushing him slightly backward, but Geralt winces as the unusual movement and Jaskier stops.

"Are you okay?" he asks and when Geralt just grumbles, his hands drop back to his sides. "What's wrong, Geralt?"

"Just a little stiff. Jaskier, I shouldn't stay, I betrayed your trust-"

"You did no such thing," Jaskier insists. "I'm not going to send you away like this, you're clearly in pain. Come," he says, taking Geralt's hands again and leading him toward the bed.

He sits him down and when Geralt shuts his eyes, he doesn't sense any hesitation, Jaskier's scent is as sharp and bright as usual, though maybe tinged with a hint of worry. No fear. No disgust. So he lets it play out, lets Jaskier remove his boots and shirt and when he's standing between his knees looking down at him, Geralt realizes Jaskier isn't upset with him. If anything, he's worried about his well being. It doesn't make any sense, but Jaskier is insistent.

Jaskier climbs onto the bed behind him, settling behind him and he runs his hands up Geralt's back, brushing lightly against his skin. His fingertips press into the tense muscle in his shoulders and Geralt lets out a shut-off groan, shifting under the touch.

"Okay?" Jaskier asks and he nods. "Your shoulders are like rocks," Jaskier comments, "what happened?"

"Hunt," Geralt mumbles, "had to lure out a werewolf."

"And that's why your shoulders are so tense?" Jaskier asks skeptically.

"Didn't have a lot of space to move around."

"For how long?"

"A while," Geralt shrugs and instantly regrets the motion, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles. "Hard to keep track of time while you're just sitting there."

"Gods, Geralt, you need to take better care of yourself."

Geralt just hums doubtfully at him but Jaskier ignores it, continuing his ministrations. His hands are soft, but manage to find every knot, working it out with something like practiced ease and Geralt melts under his touch. None of the massage techniques he's picked up over the years quite compare to this - not even the ones he learned at Kaer Morhen. Most of those were intended to be self-administered, for times when stiffness and sore limbs were simply not an option. None of them involved soft hands and delicate touches, knowing exactly where each muscle needs to be worked to ease the tension. Geralt wants to ask where he learned this, but he doubts he'd like the answer and after last time, he doesn't need any reminders of Jaskier's other bedmates.

"You're-" he stutters as Jaskier's fingers slide around the back of his neck, pressing in near the base of his skull "-very good at this."

"Feels good?"

"Mm."

"Good. Are you planning on staying tonight, gorgeous?"

"Wasn't really, no." After what he did, he doesn’t deserve it.

"That's a shame." Jaskier hums and lets his hands drop back to Geralt's shoulders. "Though," he adds thoughtfully, "I can't very well send you off like this. "Lie on your stomach for me, darling, I'll be right back."

He slips from the bed and Geralt watches after him until Jaskier looks back over his shoulder and gives him a look. Geralt just grumbles softly to himself and readjusts to lie on his front. He settles into the sheets, resting his arms along his sides and he shuts his eyes. Geralt lets himself take in the scents and sounds of the room; he's gotten particularly good at blocking out the sounds of other people fucking around them, narrowing his attention to Jaskier and Jaskier only. But tonight he's having a harder time of it and the woman in the room next to them is making no attempt to be quiet. Geralt wants to bang on the wall and tell them to shut up because his head aches and he's grouchy, but Jaskier returns just in time, holding a small bottle of oil - one Geralt recognizes to be his favourite because it's only lightly scented and surprisingly pleasant. Jaskier doesn't mention it, but Geralt is sure he picked it specifically for him.

"How are your legs?" he asks, pressing his palm up the backside of Geralt's thigh.

"Sore."

"Gonna need you out of these then," Jaskier says, smoothing up his leg again. When Geralt grunts in response, Jaskier climbs up over him, reaching under him to get his trousers undone before tugging them down and discarding them with the rest of his clothes. A wave of heat rolls, unbidden, up Geralt’s spine.

"Neat trick," he mumbles into the pillow.

"I'm very good at getting men out of their clothes. Now, are you comfortable like this?"

"Yes."

"Good." Jaskier climbs up over him and it's not until he sits back that Geralt realizes he's naked too, the soft brush of Jaskier's leg hair ticking against his thighs. A bolt of arousal zips up in his spine and Geralt inhales slowly, forcing his body to relax.

But Jaskier is done with his shoulders apparently, and his hands wrap around one thigh, squeezing and pushing right up to the swell of his ass before pulling away entirely. And Geralt groans at the loss before he can get himself under control. There's a soft huff of breath from above him, ever so faint and very self-satisfied. Geralt decides not to mention it. But Jaskier keeps squeezing and rubbing and he always knows exactly where to press and Geralt's control can only hold so long.

"Tell me about your hunt," Jaskier says and when did he get that close to his ear?

To his credit, Geralt tries. But thinking and keeping control of his body are both difficult right now and his control slips further, stuttering out a moan as he tries to describe the trap he set for the werewolf. He stumbles through the rest of the story and Jaskier hums along with him. His hands are soothing and the stiffness eases from Geralt’s muscles, but it does nothing to keep him from getting hard under his touch.

And Jaskier realizes, the bastard, and leans into it. He slips up over the curve of Geralt's ass, squeezing hard before drawing away, then he does it again. Geralt's heart thuds against his ribs, his breath comes in short bursts and he buries his face in the pillow to keep from moaning out loud. But the cushion smells like Jaskier and combined with the thick scent of his own arousal, it just makes it harder to concentrate on anything but the pulsing need flowing through him.

"Jaskier," he chokes, but just as he does, one warm slick finger presses between his cheeks, circling his hole and this time the moan drops from his lips unhindered.

"You can tell me to stop any time, darling." The thing is, he doesn’t want him to stop. But he doesn’t deserve this. And he shouldn't let Jaskier continue because he came here to apologize, but this feels too good and he's so relaxed and Jaskier just knows what to do to get him riled up.

He gives up on talking, pressing his face back into the cushion, stifling another moan as Jaskier's finger slips into him. He presses deeper, thrusting lightly in and out and Geralt has to struggle to keep from pushing his hips up. When Jaskier presses a second finger against him, Geralt's breath catches and he spreads his thighs a little wider, hoping it will encourage him - and it does. Jaskier gets both fingers into him, fucking him steadily without hesitation and Geralt's body goes limp under him.

He shifts and even the ache in his back doesn't stop him from rocking his hips back onto Jaskier's fingers. His cock catches on the sheets on the down thrust and he lets out a needy whine that he almost doesn't recognize as his own. Under him, his cock aches to be touched, the soft bedding only doing so much to satisfy his need and Jaskier is relentless.

He fucks into him steadily, never once changing speed, until Geralt is rutting into the mattress and Jaskier's cock sits hard and wet against the back of his thigh. Then he pulls out and Geralt nearly whimpers with the loss, but Jaskier draws up over him, straddling his thighs to reach his shoulders. And Geralt moans as that hot, wet head slides against his hole. His own cock throbs beneath him and he very nearly asks Jaskier to just fuck him, but then Jaskier climbs off of him and rolls him onto his back.

For a moment, nothing happens and Geralt looks up to find Jaskier just looking at him like he's appraising him.

"Stunning," he concludes and without another word, gets back to work, massaging the front of Geralt's thighs. He smoothes his hands up his chest and Geralt just groans in frustration, fisting his hands in the sheets as Jaskier's fingers brush against his nipples.

Pleasure zips through him and it's all he can do to keep still with Jaskier's hands mapping out his stomach and chest. And when his hands slip lower it's worse; just barely there brushes against his cock, light enough that Geralt might not even notice it if he wasn't aching for any little touch. And just when he thinks he can't take it any longer, when he's about to wrap a hand around himself, Jaskier stops him.

He slips his hands around Geralt's fists, gently unfurling his fingers before pushing his arms up above his head and running his hands back down. Geralt stays in place, curious to see where Jaskier is going with this as Jaskier's hands run down his arms and he bends to kiss his chest. He's mumbling something, too muffled for Geralt to quite understand though he can feel the way his lips move against his skin. Then he's moving on, winding his tongue around a nipple and Geralt presses into the touch as a jolt goes straight through his cock.

Jaskier takes his time after that, licking and sucking until both his nipples are swollen and red and Geralt's cock drips constantly against his hip. When Jaskier finally works his way lower, Geralt is so aroused he can barely keep still. Each brush of Jaskier's lips has him twitching, each time his hair brushes his skin. And when he finally slides his lips around the head of his cock, Geralt lets out a choked-off moan that he's sure they'll hear all the way down the hall.

But Jaskier is unconcerned about how loud he is or who will hear them, winding his tongue around him and dipping it into the slit. His hand wraps around where his mouth doesn't reach and he squeezes firmly, pressing his thumb up along the underside of him.

Jaskier works over him with ease, bobbing quickly in his lap and taking him down further than Geralt would have thought comfortable. It's when he bumps against the back of Jaskier's throat that he really has to steady himself because Jaskier doesn't stop there, doesn't stop until the muscles in his throat contract around him.

Geralt groans, groping blindly until his hand finds Jaskier, cupping the back of his head and tangling his fingers in his hair. He doesn't push, but Jaskier doesn't give him a chance even if he wanted to, sinking down obscenely before sliding back up his entire length and repeating the process. In his life, Geralt can't count the number of mouths he's had wrapped around his cock, but none of them were able to take him like this - most of them were afraid to try once they saw the size of him. But Jaskier seems to see him as a challenge of sorts and for the first time, Geralt is happy to have someone experiment on him.

Jaskier pulls off of him with a wet sound and Geralt tips his head to look at him. He's flushed a pretty shade of pink, his lips slick and swollen and Geralt struggles to come up with a word to describe him other than beautiful. His cock throbs as if to remind him that he's ignoring it, but Geralt's attention is temporarily diverted despite the heat that creeps under his skin and spreads through his entire body.

He presses his fingertips into Jaskier's scalp and he shuts his eyes, pressing up into the touch. The resulting moan is soft and low and Geralt can't help doing it again. Jaskier's eyes drop shut, but a smile creeps onto his face.

"I know you said you come here to talk," he says and Geralt can't get over how rough his voice is, "but I would very much like to fuck you right now."

"Fuck, yes."

Jaskier's eyes snap up to his and when Geralt doesn't look away or retract his permission, Jaskier dips down, running his tongue along the arch of Geralt's hip bone before drawing up over him. He pushes his knees under Geralt's thighs, pressing in until their cocks slot together in delicious friction that has Geralt tugging Jaskier closer. Jaskier presses his lips to the bolt of Geralt's jaw, reaching down with one arm to lift Geralt's leg over his hip and he groans against him as the motion presses them together.

He nips at Geralt's jaw, groaning with each little shift in their position, then he gets down to his neck and Geralt tips his head back with a stuttered sigh. He's never thought much about places on his body that are sensitive, not at least outside his nipples, his cock, or his ass, but Jaskier sucks on that one spot under his jaw and he feels it all the way through him. And it's so fucking good, like a tingling that spreads slowly before overtaking him completely. And Jaskier seems to know this because he always pays special attention to his neck and throat, kissing and sucking at the skin like it's all he could ever want.

Geralt rocks his hips slowly, happy enough to let Jaskier bring them together with each of his movements. It's soft and Geralt wonders if this is what it feels like for people who fuck just to be close to each other. Something twists in his chest, but he quickly dismisses it, assuring himself it's a byproduct of his exhaustion and the way Jaskier hums against his skin.

Jaskier shifts above him, tilting to one side as he adjusts himself, pressing his cock against Geralt's rim and giving a few short thrusts before pushing in. It's a little tight, a little dry, but it keeps Geralt's mind from wandering where it shouldn't and he's almost disappointed when Jaskier reaches for the oil again. Almost.

It eases the intrusion, allows Jaskier to fuck him more easily, but it eases the bite and without that, Geralt feels like he's floating. They slip easily against each other, both of them now slick with the oil covering Geralt's skin and it's pushing the boundaries of too much. Geralt doesn't get softness or tenderness and he's never quite sure what to do with a compliment or even a simple thank you, so Jaskier's insistent tenderness creeps under his skin and makes it crawl. Geralt wants him to fuck him hard, without hesitation; quick and hard and impersonal, but a much more needy part of him doesn't want this to stop.

Jaskier seems to realize something's up and he traces a line down Geralt's neck with his lips, thrusting just lightly as he lifts his mouth from his skin.

"Okay?" he breathes.

"You don't have to be so careful with me," Geralt mumbles, carefully avoiding eye contact. Jaskier's lips find his skin again.

"I know, darling, and next time I'll fuck you so hard you can't walk straight, but you're sore." He noses at the underside of Geralt's jaw with a soft, pleased sound. "You could barely stand up when you came in here, I'm not going to risk hurting you just because I can't keep my hands off you."

Geralt wants to protest, to tell Jaskier's he's fine, that he wants this, but at that moment, Jaskier moves back over him, sliding deeper and the words die on Geralt's lips. He groans softly, winding his free hand around Jaskier's waist and grinding up against his stomach.

"That's it, gorgeous, let me feel you."

"Why do you call me that?" Geralt rumbles, turning to press his nose into Jaskier's hair.

"Gorgeous?" he asks, "because you are. Just look at you-" he runs a hand over Geralt's chest as if to prove his point. "Your eyes and your body and-" he huffs a soft laugh against Geralt's skin, reaching down to curl around him "-your cock. Do you know who I usually see? Old men who can barely get it up anymore.”

A wave of jealousy surges through him but Geralt shuts his eyes and pushes it away, focusing on Jaskier’s body against his own.

"I'm much older than them," he breathes, much of his effect lost by the breathlessness of his voice.

"And much more beautiful." Jaskier's lips press against his neck again, moving down to leave a little wet trail of kisses down his chest as far as he can reach. "I could spend a month describing all of your lovely features and still find myself wanting for more time."

Geralt's body heats under the praise, but he finds that coming from Jaskier, it's surprisingly welcome. He rocks back onto him, pressing his leg a little tighter around him, and Jaskier moans.

"Fuck," he whispers, "you feel so good wrapped around my cock like that. Gods, how do you do this to me?" Jaskier shifts, snapping his hips hard and Geralt is helpless to do anything but hold onto him as pleasure rips through him.

He realizes with a start that Jaskier must be close because his thrusts become quicker, less controlled and the words mumbled into his skin become muddled. Every little movement has Geralt fucking up into Jaskier's hand and his grip just gets tighter as he gets closer.

Jaskier's thrusts get quicker until he's snapping his hips, grinding up against that spot inside him with every thrust. Geralt comes almost unexpectedly, wrapping himself around Jaskier as he ruts into him.

"Yeah," Jaskier pants, "that's it beautiful, come on. Fuck, you're so fucking good for me-" Geralt doesn't hear anything else through the rush in his ears and then he's coming hard, hips stuttering as he presses himself into Jaskier's stomach.

Jaskier continues, back arched and panting and Geralt holds him through it.

"Geralt," he huffs, "ah, fuck, Geralt-" he snaps forward, burying himself deep and gasping and grunting into Geralt's neck as his hips continue to twitch.

Jaskier stays inside him until Geralt's oversensitive, twitching at every little movement. His fingers are still tangled in Jaskier's hair, Jaskier's head tucked into his shoulder and Geralt can feel exhaustion creeping up on him.

"I'd like to come with you some time," Jaskier murmurs and the confession is enough to jolt Geralt back to wakefulness, "to see what you do. I could help when you have to sit in small spaces for a long time."

"Wouldn't let you," Geralt mumbles.

"What? Help?"

"Come with me. It's too dangerous, you'd get hurt, or worse."

"I can take care of myself."

"Not against a monster," Geralt counters. "Besides, I wouldn't take anyone with me unarmed."

"I could get a sword."

He scoffs. "Not a sword."

"Then what? I've never used a bow before."

"And you've used a sword?" Geralt asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"I've used a rapier."

"It's not the same."

Jaskier pouts at him, but he falls silent, apparently considering this. He's quiet for so long that Geralt nearly drifts off, even sticky and slippery as he is, but then Jaskier pipes up again.

"If you were to stop all of this, to give it up, where would you settle?"

"I wouldn't," Geralt says without hesitation, "Witchers don't settle down. We can't have families, so we continue on the Path until, inevitably, we die."

Jaskier screws up his face at that, pushing himself up and out of Geralt's arms. "That's a terrible outlook to have."

"It's true for us. I've never known a Witcher to live a happy life."

Jaskier falls silent, but Geralt can practically feel his mind working. He shuts his eyes, but there’s a sudden spike of sadness and when he opens his eyes, Jaskier leans up, looking down at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “about last time. I didn’t mean for it to be like that. Anise came to me and asked me to change rooms and I’d barely finished setting up when I heard you were here. I didn’t have time to bathe properly like I normally do. I should have sent you away, asked you to come back later. I was too eager to see you and I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“It’s fine,” Geralt huffs, stiffening at the reminder. “I was the one who overreacted.”

“Just… don’t think that I did it on purpose. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Geralt doesn’t respond and Jaskier pulls out, settling himself next to Geralt on the mattress. He cuddles closer, draping one leg over Geralt’s and sliding his fingers around the side of his neck. “Are you really alone all the time? Do you ever take wives, at least? Husbands?"

"My brother," Geralt starts, considering how much is acceptable to say, "has a partner. Of sorts."

"Do they live together?"

"No."

"Then what's the point if they’re still alone?" Jaskier rises up over him, looking down expectantly. He sounds pained and Geralt sighs softly.

He reaches up, brushing the damp hair from Jaskier's forehead. "I know it's hard for you to understand," he says, "it's not hard for humans to find people to love them. Even the most awful humans live their lives surrounded by others, but it's different for us. They may not see each other all the time, or even often, but in their darkest moments, they have someone to think of, someone to help them push through. Any relationship a Witcher has is going to be far different than human partnerships."

As Jaskier settles back against him, Geralt runs his fingers through his hair, relieved that he seems to be finished with this conversation.

"But what about you?" Jaskier asks, "in your darkest moments, who do you have to think of?" Geralt's breath catches and he freezes for a moment.

"No one," he says because he can't admit to Jaskier that the last time he was in trouble, the last time he really thought it might be the end, he thought of him.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher #good as gold #rex writes #prostitute!jaskier

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Ash Pt 4

*

Three days. It was odd, since you had gotten that letter it did not go unnoticed the clear avoidance of the King or others surrounding him that only one of the guards on watch in the Throne Room had clarified it was the letter that the King was requested to read. Most commonly taken as hurt feelings for receiving such words from Lord Girion that opened up a can of worms on feelings from your deceased husband. The stubborn few however had taken the reclusive habit as the fact that it was King Thranduil who had read those words to you and had himself grown agitated by them that caused imaginations to run wild. He had been noticed to stare after the newest arrival unlike with others before.

Far from uncommon the King would cut his routes to his wing by passing through the public areas but since that letter he was deliberately going out of his way to pass through them with obvious glances to where you most commonly sat. As he did with any other new arrival until they seemed to have settled, which could take up to years on rare occasion. Even paths to the library and the stables came up empty and had him zig zagging through his kingdom to the point his own feet were getting sore. His frustration was evident and it wasn’t until his huffs echoed those of another he would freeze to find himself in front of another abandoned wing with dust and dirt coated sheets flying off of hidden treasures to be rearranged.

These rooms hadn’t been touched since their arrival here, not since the destruction of Amon Lanc and those treasures by someone who did not bear the painful memories to prevent moving them each item was shifted, cleaned and re-housed to a location beyond the heap that it all was assembled in. Three days. Each room better than the last with those who explored them afterwards awed and oddly at peace for these treasures to be on full display for all again as if they were brand new again. Tiny things to you that meant the world to these similarly displaced Elves who were forced to this last keep from their former oasis.

Still from his father’s former games room you had fixed the day prior he turned to the throb of his feet and back from the tense hours of tries to discover you and relented a nice long soak would aid in his recovery better than anything else and then he could return refreshed to the tracking game you had initiated. Clothes and boots covered the floor on the way to the hot spring that steadily the King lowered into with a relieved grimace from the heat melting away his aches right away. To a deep sigh his eyes eased shut in his recline against the built in bench steps and remained so while the water worked its magic on his tension until the crack of his front door open then shut again not long after. Hushed giggles and tiny footsteps had him smile knowing just who had snuck into his apartment and rather loudly he groaned and stretched his arms over his head with smile split wide to Prince Estel now frozen post gasp. The giggles continued however in his relax back into the water with quick steps to his bed that with quiet grunts and huffs the boy gave away his hiding place for the again close eyed King.

He meant to get out soon to join the boy in his game however those questions had begun their loop again. His new citizen again flooded his mind. Usually there was little issue compared to yours, imprisoned for over a thousand years by the man who had given his word to protect and cherish you now had clearly left still bleeding wounds. One of which he worried that letter may have tripped across. It was unbelievable how Lord Girion had written to you and treated his wife in the process of flattering you to what ends Thranduil didn’t know. Just widowed even as a prisoner there was little reason for anyone to rush ever broaching the topic of wooing you, it was almost enough to make him ride to Dale and throttle the Man who dared to threaten your healing so selfishly. True some of those lines were quite accurate, though paled in comparison to the prose his own skilled poets could and had been drafting for sharing upon a much later date and all in a respectfully platonic way out of respect for the new Queen.

Queen. The word kept repeating in his head. Since the first time he’d seen you, that was the one word he would have chosen to describe your status. He had seen that regality before, he had served Kings and Queens orders from his family shop and had seen them downcast when overthrown. He almost had stared and had been caught staring since to the sight of a Queen on her knees, battered and bloody prepared to breathe and regain it all on their own the best they could. You were a Queen, even without experience on ruling he knew by your kind ease alone and bolstering courage that there would be a great many willing to risk it all to follow you anywhere. And if he had to a second keep could be formulated to be built for your own rule, or at the worst a reclamation of Amon Lanc, as futile as that might seem had you wished him to gift it to you.

Sharply he shook his head and dunked fully under the water to drown out the thoughts that circled back to those rings and necklace he loathed on you. He had caught himself, nightly inspecting his treasury and gems available, stops that had drawn the recently revived Celebrimbor, another acquaintance from his youth who was the last person to wash ashore, to his side with parchment in hand to think up a design more befitting someone of your heart. Those rings weren’t gifted out of love and the telling lack of shimmer or shine from the clear stones on that necklace left much to be desired. They could do better. You deserved better. Something fit for a Queen.

Up he rose from the water when his lungs ached to expand and in a turn he climbed from the spring chuckling internally to the sight of his missing clothes he took as part of the game Estel was playing at the time he had been forced to wait. The towel snatched up was lifted to ruffle his hair in a pause to the confusing sight of the boy clearly asleep on his bed where he had gone to hide. Something that moved however turned his head and there he saw a hoisted up bin on the shoulder of an Elleth with the other propped on her hip. No one remained in his rooms when he bathed, it was unspoken respect amongst their people unless a Healer had been sent for or Legolas required council from him, even then few aside from Lord Glorfindel or Lord Celeborn would care to intrude on his soaking time. The latter however knew that was how they could trap him to force his audience on a topic he had drug his heels on.

A glint of light off the beaded top to the one of a kind gown had in the lower of his towel to his chest had him remain silent in hopes that it had been the water you had heard to have sent you scurrying. Unable to help it he felt himself smirk at the latest of what would have been odd circumstance to meet in his manner of undress, though past the bed he strode curious of what you had been tasked here to do. His study was where you had come from and seemed to be little changed except for his books that he bit his lip to keep from chuckling in wonder at what languages you could read or if his collection had stumped you as Dalion had. To his closet he went with recollection of your fluent Common tongue and Silvan with even bits of Gondolin’s tongue from a few who had once lived there that refused to learn the common Silvan here he had caught echoes of in passing that had him wonder as to how you knew their tongues but not their lands.

Stunned a moment he froze just to stare at all of his things now re-organized out of his usual way that somehow made more sense than his former layout. A knock on his front door turned his head and inside he moved easing the door shut nearly all the way to the sound of the door opening to finish drying and pull on a fresh selection of clothes. “Ada?” Legolas’ voice sounded then was followed by Glorfindel’s who said in a relieved sigh, “Here he is.” That had him turn and call off the search the twins were embarking upon to the Prince going to stretch out across the bed near to his young friend he would gladly steal a nap with while his father carried on dressing to continue his day.

“I take it our little one has been scaring up a storm through the Palace in his nap here?” Thranduil asked from the closet halfway dressed with towel raised to exit the closet tussling his hair in the towel to find the chuckle worthy sight of his own son asleep next to the boy on the bed he turned from to continue dressing now that he felt his hair was suitably dry.

By the time he had his new robe on over his tunic Glorfindel had rejoined them and asked, “Off hunting again?”

“I will find the Queen and will see how she is handling the letter. We have yet to have received a response.”

Glorfindel chuckled, “My guess would be something abundant with furs or woven goods and food once he sees how his gift had been taken. The response was quite honorable he surely cannot hold a grudge even if his intent was innocent.”

Thranduil stated, “He will adjust and any gift uneven with the slight will be sent back by myself.”

 *

Shakily a breath left you in the pass of another pillar on your way to the usual hiding spot, the pastures by the stables. “How long was he in there?” You asked yourself in a murmur to the feel of bending grass under your beaded slippers with arms rising to cross over your chest in the warmth of the sunlight that fell over you.

A brush however tossed at you snapped your mind from the memory of the wet naked body of the King strolling out of the hot spring. With hands around the wooden body of the brush you eyed the mare in a smirk and a question of, “This your way of saying to make myself useful?” in her move closer and abrupt scoffing turn in front of you. Softly to yourself you lifted the brush to begin the demanded pampering session for the mare that aloofly waited until you were through then trotted off. Once you put the brush up from where they had clearly taken it from inside you strolled through the palace very aware of the clench of your belly towards the kitchens.

Inside the sea of heavenly scents you stepped and looked around to the Elves at work who started to take notice of your entrance. Two of the Elves who had hoped to get try outs approached you with hopeful glints in their eyes asking, “May we help you, Your Highness?”

From a large pot of corn being boiled your eyes shifted to a bag of flour being brought out to the bread station, “I, um, I know it’s close to dinner,”

The taller of the two assured you, “Our services are free to your request at any time. How may we help you?”

When your eyes shifted to them you asked, “Could you show me how to make those rolls, with the honey butter on them?” They both smiled and motioned you to the sinks to wash up with them, leaving your rings on the designated stand there everyone left their rings and bracelets in colored pegs and cubbies to be taken to the counter where they showed you everything you would need. Carefully you rolled up the sleeves on your gown and couldn’t help but smile through the process that the duo grinned as they guided you through each step as you shared that your history with trying for bread either ended up raw or burned in the three times you had tried it as a kid. Inside the orb you stuck mainly to potatoes and sturdy vegetables as they were the easiest to not ruin. Every step more joyful than the next up to the giggle worthy task of kneading the dough.

 *

“Kitchens,” the word had been echoed from the King to Lord Celebrimbor who had been huffing about not having achieved a moment to size you for gifts yet. Though a hands on activity had the returned Lord smiling from ear to ear from the chance that you had been separated from those guilt ridden rings. In the shadows at one door the King stood in wait with a lean against the doorway with eyes fixed on your giggling self with view of Celebrimbor who crept to the jewelry stand shushing those along the way. His path was far from unnoticed and was almost announced by one cook in the lift of your engagement ring only to see the ring sizer in his free hand that once the expanding set of rings he twisted until it fit snugly inside the ring he slipped off. Then got a closer look at the clearly flawed techniques used to craft it or the thin wedding band coated in the same dim excuses for diamonds far beneath what you were worthy of.

Only the emerald could be worth something as even the metal would never have been chosen for any person to court and would only be taken as an insult and even the stone was laced with a sort of enchantment that had the Lord concerned for how it was effecting you. Right away he put it back and turned to head for his workshop to get started on a replacement to hurl that pitiful thing into the fires of the forges to get that enchantment far away from you. Alone still the King stood in watch of the lesson, from the rest of the dough to let it rise where you were taken over to help with making the noodles for tonight’s supper that once flattened out were shaped into butterfly shapes you filled trays that were set aside to dry before being cooked.

The first round of rolls that you had rolled into balls and slid into the oven and coated with the topping another Elleth who had agreed to teach you revealed the ratio of honey and butter and showed you how to brush it on with a smile to the widening of yours. Just proud of actually pulling the task off once the topping had melted perfectly across the tops of the rolls you glanced at the Elf who said, “This dozen is for you,” that parted your lips and the other nodded saying, “Always tradition, first dozen go to the baker. Give it a taste, enjoy the fruits of lesson.”

Off the wooden tray you lifted the one on the edge you raised to sniff the marvel in the bubble of bliss of this moment every Elf around you had felt before on a successful first round of bread making which can make even the most skilled baker get stuck or agitated from a deflating singed bun or loaf. From the wall however the King stole the chance to come over to the move of the other rolls into a basket for you. His sudden approach had him and others grin at your toss of the roll in your hand at his face out of shock that he caught. “Thank you,” he said ignoring the slight others might take of having something thrown at their face to the offer of the basket you timidly accepted another roll from in the curl of the basket into your stomach. “Would you care for a stroll, Queen Jaqi?”

The encouraging grins on the faces of the duo had you nod and turn to fetch your rings that in the walk back to his side you slid them back onto your finger for the quiet walk to the open garden pathway that he was certain you had yet to see. All the while taking small bits off the roll he was nibbling on, once on the cobbled opening he said, “This roll is sublime, thank you. I was out for a snack truly.”

“Oh, yes, well, I suppose being naked can be rather strenuous on the appetite.” That had his head turn in a glance at you through your glance at a tree to hide your moment of internal screams from his attention only to divert the conversation, “Do you make bread?”

“Not often,” he replied in your glance up at him where to the faint blush on your cheeks he realized he might not have gone unnoticed as he had previously assumed.

“I’ve only tried a few times myself. Always raw in the middle or scorched and when I try to give it a few minutes they turn black as soon as I turn my back somehow. Quite puzzling.”

“Did you see me? After my bath? I noticed you had taken the shift to tidy my rooms, thank you for that. I have not quite seen it arranged so before.”

“I thought it was the boy, the water, I came out of the study, thought it was him, not, you or I’d have stayed in the study.”

“I apologize,” he said and you turned your head to catch his gaze, “Had I known anyone other than the sleeping Prince Estel was there I should have made my presence known and covered myself. I had no intentions of making you uncomfortable.”

“Well you were the one who was naked when I stormed in,” The corner of his mouth quirked up at your eyes darting to his again from the path, “How did you get it?” His brow ticked up and you pointed to his side, “You, have a scar, almost looked like a chain.”

“It was,” he answered rather coldly then retracted in your glance away to answer in a more understanding tone that perhaps you were concerned he had been taken prisoner one before like you had. Others knew not to ask, where you had no knowledge who all he had lost and the weight added in the gain of that scar and the others he bore. “Our people fought in a decades long battle where we tried to break the walls and Black Gates of Mordor. A last stand of good against the evil spreading in our world. There was a dragon, others had tried to cast it in iron nets woven from chains. It broke and I was thrown from my people and then watched them vanish in the flames that beast let loose before it was brought down.”

“Oh,” you said in another glance up at him to find his puzzling gaze still on you in a try to hide his pain.

“Many within these walls know the source of my scars, the day I became King, fear not you have not troubled me in asking. Merely a wound that is painful to name.”

“I have the feeling I may upset a great deal of people with obvious questions.”

“Ask any questions you desire. We will do our best to educate you in all matters of interest to you. Our people and histories while rife with pain have many a fine tale we enjoy sharing once those grim reminders are named.”

One more bite and you finished off your roll to his stolen glance over your jeweled ear cover that had him ask, “Do your people often adorn their ears?”

That turned your head and after you swallowed you said, “Sort of, depends on the person. For me these are for records that were in my bag that were spoken or sung in other languages and these are enchanted to help me understand other languages and be able to speak them.” His lips parted, “I sort of soak the languages in as I speak them and eventually I can understand and speak it without them.”

“That does explain quite a bit, to find those who are able to speak Gondolin within these lands outside of a select few is quite an ordeal and you have mastered it flawlessly. It is no wonder that Ringwe has been in a brighter mood of late. I presume they do not aid in written word?”

“No, that magic is beyond my strengths at the moment.”

“Ma-,” the familiar whip of air around the head of an arrow turned his head in the direction of the word, “Ada!”

Wide eyed the King in two steps was around you and placed himself between you and the arrow with a clear flashback to when his son was first learning archery and had accidentally shot him before in a stroll through this same garden others rarely used. His eyes fixed on his wide eyed son who had been helping Prince Estel with his tiny bow he had dropped to cover his mouth as for who had walked in the way of the target landing area the arrow was meant to slide to a stop after its fall on the cobbled walkway. The sudden glimmer of a barrier of mist, that seemed like if you were under the water and peered up at the surface, reflections of light and darker waves that lapped across the dome that covered from above his head to his waist.

Open mouthed the King eyed the barrier that held the arrow in place until its sudden vanish that let the arrow fall to the ground, his eyes however shifted to his son with finger and arm extended behind him, with wide eyes as he called out, “Ada!”

Thranduil turned his head to catch your glowing eyes roll backwards in the buckle of your knees and with an outstretched arm he scooped your limp torso into his side careful to take hold of your basket and guided with a shift of his bicep your head rolled into his chest and not away to prevent strain on your neck. Right away the Princes raced over and Legolas took hold of the basket to let his father guide your legs up onto his other arm to the appearance of Lord Glorfindel seemingly out of nowhere.

Estel, “Do we need a healer? I can run fast!”

Thranduil said in a glance over your face as he felt the clear pulse of energy within yourself resettling to calm. “No, it would appear Queen Jaqiearae is merely in need to rest a time.”

To your apartment he carried you with attention shifting to the hand against his stomach for a drowsy shift of fingers against the buttons there. He hadn’t been there since the tour and did hope that you wouldn’t take this as in intrusion upon your privacy to let themselves in. The doors opened with Legolas and Glorfindel leading the way, past the empty rooms with a pause at a lace weaving loom that was working a lengthy piece together on its own. After a moment he moved onwards to the bedroom where a glance over the additions had him grin at the curious fur pattern on the blanket you had added to it and the pillows. Estel from the bench at the foot of your bed he climbed onto then from rushed to the pillows to help ease the top blanket back his focus shifted from the other blankets to the stuffed animals he smiled in lifting to inspect.

“Green leaf,” he said turning to show the trio off to Legolas who smirked in accepting one for a closer look. Thranduil to your waist ensured you were covered and took the basket he settled on the bedside table on his path to your closet curious of what else you had tucked away to wear. Without touch he got a good look at all that he could see and then made his way to your other rooms to see what else you may have added to the apartment already. The study was where he found additions aside from the self weaving lace loom now with a panel that floated up to a body model that pinned itself up to join the second piece that would one day be a vest of top to another stunning dress. Just the number of books had his head swiveling to take in the various appearances and runes down the spines he couldn’t read.

A forest green book was eased off the shelf and with a grin he admired the forest scene etched into the front cover that he opened and began to flip through a few pages until he found an image then began to flip ahead to the next image. A pattern he continued ignorant of the glowing letters on the spine of the book that upon a picture of a tiger he slammed the book shut to the roar the moving creature gave off. The noise had his head turn to Glorfindel and Legolas who entered the doorway and he said in a show of the book, “Magic book, apparently.” Gently he eased the book back into its place and the trio got to choosing their own books they admired the covers of and stole a few glimpses inside.

Legolas, “Ada, what tongue is this?”

Thranduil answered turning over his own book in hand, “I do not know. Queen Jaqiearae was just informing me of her enchanted ear covers that allow her to understand and speak any tongue heard by her. Though written word is not affected the same. There must be several languages here, some of these runes are quite opposing in composition and overall shape.”

Word had most certainly gotten around and while others ate in the public kitchens supplies for a helping all your own were being gathered to be brought to you in your rooms to be prepped there and ready hopefully when you had woken. The sitting room was made use of with the only available seating other than your own bed that they spoke on ways to make you feel more comfortable now that the kingdom knew you were also at least part Maiar. Radagast’s name was mentioned as far as an invitation to the celebration at the end of the month to have a friend with magic in common nearby as Mithrandir was hard to locate a majority of the time and Saruman was harder to get out of his tower than a badger from its den.

.

A tap on your nose was what had woken you. And into focus came the boy who knelt open mouthed at the opal like swirl of colors in you eyes that darkened back to their normal silver flecked purple eyes. “I shot you,” he said and you couldn’t help but grin at him.

“Not really.”

“I like your dogs and goat,” he said scooping all three up in his palms to show you as if he’d been afraid to be caught with them.

“Thank you, my grandparents gave me them.”

“Are you better? Supper is almost done.” He pointed to your left, “I didn’t eat your rolls.”

In a reach over you grabbed one of the still warm rolls you lifted and offered to him. With a wide smile he set down your stuffies and accepted the roll he took a big bite out of it as you managed to prop yourself up to test your strength and then wiggled yourself upright. Groggily you managed to push the covers down and exhaled in the effort just that took and in a turn you reached for a roll that you took a lazy bite from. The slowed movements of your body had the boy ask, “Are you tired?”

Slowly a half blink with one eyelid moving slower than the other your head eased to the side in an awkward tilt through a hard swallow to empty your mouth to say, “I need my bag.” Right away his head turned and on his knees he swiveled until he spotted the bag that was on the bench at the foot of the bed he scrambled to grab and bring back to you only to find your body had collapsed to its side.

“Here,” he said opening the bag he settled on the bed in front of your trembling empty hand barely able to rise off the bed that dipped into the bag and retracted from it with a silver tin with gems around a painted mural in the center of the lid and around the sides of the oval marvel. A small latch was undone with a press of your thumb that lifted the lid to reveal a tin of what looked to be candies inside. In a sloppy pinch one of the caramel colored ones that in a blur of the room and muffle of a shout from the boy who was more than alarmed by your behavior. That shout had brought with it all three of the Lords who encircled you with a bodiless hand that helped to scoop the candy between your lips. That once upon your tongue melted into an elixir that dripped down your throat to the struggling groan that had hands cup your cheeks in wide eyed panic to the sight of a trail of black ooze from the corner of your mouth. Sharp inhales came in the snap of your eyes, now dark grey with golden veins that receded in four deep chested coughs held back behind what seemed to be your lips glued shut.

Around you their faces came into focus and in the split of your lips they saw the dark receding of ooze source of the trail one of the hands had wiped away they watched you seemed to inhale back down your throat and say, “Sorry, got up too fast.”

Glorfindel said with narrowed eyes, “That was no moment of feeling faint.”

“No,” you said to a tear that escaped from the corner of your eye, “Since I was taken, my magic, I cannot use above an amount of magic. Or I pass out and stay asleep for however long it takes to wear off the sleep.”

Thranduil asked, “These candies? This is the antidote of this sleep?”

“Partly.” You said and wet your lips and in the sign that you were trying to get up their hands helped you to do so and hold you upright, “Still tired, but I can perk up with something to eat. Probably will sleep in tomorrow, can’t help it. The candies are a hardened tonic to reverse the body binding part of my sleep.”

Thranduil asked in a pained voice, “Is there no cure?”

Unsteadily you shook your head and lifted your roll again, now slightly squished that you took another bite from after saying, “Haven’t found a curse like it. He did it.”

The trio simply watched you gradually work back to some semblance of normal in finishing off that roll and a second Legolas handed to you in hopes to quicken the healing along to Estel closing the tin he returned to your bag. Upon news of the supper being ready they helped you to the meal, through which Thranduil assured you Radagast was on his way to meet you and could assist you or call upon Mithrandir or Saruman if necessary to find a way to heal you of this illness.

Ample thanks were given to the cook who gladly shared they would add this recipe to the list of dishes to teach you upon a later date then left with a wide smile at the hopes they had impressed a few points upon their favor to be your personal cook. Afterwards however Legolas had led the rush to get you to call it an early night and joined the others with Estel on his hip upon their victorious exit to your choice of sleeping clothes to do just that.

.

Two days each time you were seen in passing their eyes traveled over you as if to take in any signs of weariness. Signs that after a late breakfast prepped by a second undercook who helped to see you off to a series of task in the Palace as you had missed the ride to Dale that day. Tasks were minimal in subtle agreements through the Palace to not exert you ended by evening strolls through the forest the speckled mare who even seemed to be against urging you to run or so much as speed walk, even going so far as to physically stop you by standing sideways in front of you to keep you from strain. Huffs and groans from you were common until a third day when you were able to sneak onto the first wagon to Dale the next day for a chance to be taken as healthy once again.

An early day however was called at the market having to close for a family celebration that had you with hold of your coin purse to check on what goodies you might be able to afford with each of your few paydays. A bundle of juicy grapes and exactly four pears you strolled to the front gates of the city where one of the guards eyed the cloth bag you held open in the bend of your arm with a smile and a grape between your fingers giving it an amused squeeze. Right up at noticing the audience you flashed him a grin and said, “We could never afford grapes as a child.”

Amusedly he chuckled to himself and watched the second guard who now was on the ground at your side to help you back onto the wagon turned around at the roll in of clouds to give off a slight drizzle soon enough that had brought the available Elves in Dale to head back before the rains could grow if they would at all. The grape was added back to the sack and you lifted a pear that the woman at the stall helped you to choose the best ones that you gave a curious sniff to it. The action had the friendly Elleth who was visiting a friend that worked in the Elvish markets who agreed to help you assemble an ample helping of fruit upon your return and would gladly show you just how to prepare each for snacking and the best way to keep them fresh to enjoy them to their fullest and not have to eat them at once.

Full tours of the markets were given in Greenwood where you were assured that King Thranduil had settled an account for your leisure upon declaration of your title named upon Lord Glorfindel’s arrival at your side in one of their daily trips along your paths. A lesson on jams had come next in the gathering of a full supply of food to be used for the lunch cooking lesson from another undercook to grant the cook time to ready the supplies in your kitchen. The twin Lords however upon realizing you had made a heaping amount had invited themselves as the others were busy in aligning themselves with the incoming arrival of Lords and family members from both Rivendell and Lothlorien.

Pt 5

All –

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess​, @aspiringtranslator​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @fizzyxcustard​, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost​, @catthefearless​, @imjusthereforthereads​, @c-s-stars​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​, @mariannetora​, @shes-a-killer-kween​, @ggbbhehe4455

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​, @pastelhexmaniac

X Thranduil - @evyiione​, @sweetlytenacious25, @tigereyesf​, @pastelhexmaniac, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​

x Ash - @fandomsstolemylife00​, @lilith15000,  @devilishminx328

#Thranduil #Celebrimbor #Legolas #Estel #Elladan and Elohrir #Arrows and Consequences #The Curse #Marketplace

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

the friends we made along the way [1]

“A renowned adventurer, a wounded knight, her protégé, a fiery healer, an exasperated mage, an infamous thief, a squirrel whisperer, a double agent, a mysterious witch, a soft-spoken artist, and a perfectionist chef all go on an adventure to save the princess.

“It sounds like the opening of a bad joke, but no, rats are invading, the kingdom is in distress, and if this group of misfits don’t save the princess from the rat king, Grengresh, before he drains her magic and uses it against them… then they’re all pretty screwed.”

Y'all ever wake up and just write something completely unprompted that is 100% self-indulgent and that literally no one asked for?

Well, I do and here's the first part.

Read on AO3

[i] a dark and stormy night a rat scurried across the floor

The parchment remained bare, with only the exception of a wet ink dribble slowly spreading along the lower-left corner. 

Even with all the magic flowing in her veins, ready to ignite with a mere flick of her wrist, Violet still couldn’t make words pen themselves to the page. Somehow, writing a letter had become the hardest thing she’d done all day. 

First, she thought perhaps it was too stuffy within the bedroom, so she opened a window. The warm night air carried the scent of early spring-- blooming lilacs and cold soil from the gardens swirling with the early indications of rain, something lovely enough to clear her head, she thought. 

When that hadn’t worked, Violet paced about the room. With arms stretched high above her head, she then bent down to touch her toes. When that did nothing, she even spun around with as much grace as a land-stranded fish would. She thought if she could get the tension out of her shoulders, her focus would center. Then, she could write this letter. 

But, spinning around with nothing-- rather, no one to hold onto only reminded her of those long-gone days of dreaded dance lessons. 

Violet’s mouth twisted at the thought. The king thought it best she learn, as it’s something most princesses in other kingdoms excel at. 

Ben quickly realized Violet did better in other physical activities, such as archery, rather than dance. Then, once her magic grew stronger, there was absolutely no more time for dancing. At least, not that kind of dancing. 

Violet stilled, gaze stuck on the floor absently. 

Did Brody think about those days, as well? The days where after hours of archery practice, Brody took her sore hands in hers and spun them around as they laughed and embraced? Or was she too preoccupied with secret treasures hidden within abandoned caverns, with fighting off dangerous, mythical beings with the most renowned hunters? 

“You could come with me.”

A long, miserable sigh escaped as Violet plopped back down in her chair, knees brought to her chest for her chin to rest up as she stared out at the night sky, or rather, the disconsolate clouds that night sky hid behind. Judging by the dark color and the faintest rumbles of thunder, Violet predicted rain would fall over the lands of Erisonia quickly, within the hour. 

At least Ben would be pleased, Violet thought. King Ben had a thing about the rain. He saw it as a gift for their crops and gardens. While that may ring true for him, for Violet it brought bittersweet memories of that night two years ago-- the night Brody asked her to leave with her. 

Violet twirled her pen between her fingers, hesitating to dip back into the dark ink. More thunder grumbled in the distance as faint rain began to fall. Even so, Violet didn’t move to close the window. She welcomed the rain tonight. 

“You could come with me. With your magic and my grand sense of direction, we could travel the world together-- see everythin’ it’s got to offer.”

A bird with striking blue feathers fluttered in gracefully, perching itself on the window sill. It didn’t shy away when Violet reached out, instead drawn to her. The bird kept its balance on her fingers as she admired it. 

Two years, she thought. Two years since Brody left Erisonia in search of excitement, adventure, and treasure. Brody left everything and everyone behind--including Violet. Her leaving was premeditated, of course. Brody always knew she would become an adventurer one day, having let Violet know years in advance that one day she’d walk out of this kingdom in search of something greater. 

What had been a shock was that Brody wanted Violet at her side. 

At first, Violet thought it to be a joke, that surely Brody knew she could abandon Ben, the kingdom, and her other companions. 

“Why not? It’s not like we’ll never come back, and if King Ben needs ya, which knowin’ him, he will... then he’ll call.” 

Violet wanted to agree. As they stood close together, seeking shelter from the rain under the garden’s gazebo, Violet wanted to look Brody in the eye and agree. 

She wanted to go back to the castle that night and pack all her essential belonging, inform Ben that she would be leaving with Brody and that nothing would stop her, say her goodbyes to Clementine, Louis, and the other knights and companions she’s grown to love over her years, then get on Brody’s horse and ride out of the kingdom just as the sun began to rise. 

That’s not what happened, though. 

Violet made it clear that she couldn’t go-- her brother needed her by his side to run this kingdom, and the most selfish parts of her hoped that would be enough to keep Brody there with her.

But, her love’s mind was already made long before they had ever met. 

Brody, while hurt and anxious at their impending departure, didn’t push further. Instead, she took Violet’s hand in hers and pressed a long, delicate kiss against the inside of her wrist. A silent promise, they both knew. 

A promise that Brody would return for her.

She left that very next morning. 

They exchanged letters, but as time went on, Brody wrote less and less. Sometimes, Violet’s letters would be brought back as Brody wasn’t anywhere in the area she addressed anymore, and she’d have to wait weeks for her to write with apologies and a new contact address. 

Many rumors and stories began to surface about the girl, stories of the things she’s conquered. If they’re all to be believed, then there isn’t a doubt in Violet’s mind that Brody’s time was hardly wasted on letters to her. 

The bird chirped at her, fluffing up its feathers in a huff before taking flight. It moves about the room in a panic before soaring out the window. Something heavy takes hold of her gut, squeezing as she watched the bird disappear in the distance. A bright flash momentarily blinds her, and only seconds later, a deafening clap of thunder growls. The rain had gone from light to a downpour, so Violet finally closed the window to prevent her parchment from getting soaked. 

“Be safe,” she murmurs, thinking of the little blue bird who paid her a visit, then once more of Brody. 

Her empty letter mocks her, so she starts with something simple-- Brody’s name. 

Brody

Easy enough, but if only the rest of her words flowed so nicely. 

Sure, she could describe the mundane weather the past few weeks brought them, or update her on how much her archery had improved, or even detail the story of Ben accidentally firing off all the fireworks gifted to him from the kingdom of Richmond during his birthday celebration, setting the food court aflame and angering chef Omar, who then proceeded to chase Erisonia’s king around the yard with a ladle.

Violet grew tired of paint-by-number letters, but every time she sat in her chair ready to pen her feelings, it’s as if she forgot the entire language altogether. And as Violet sat there, watching rain droplets trickle down her window and listening to the angry thunder, it occurred to her that if the feelings for Brody hadn’t run so deep-- if Violet didn’t still love Brody as much as she did even after all this time-- then she could find the words, could write an easy letter inquiring of Brody’s adventures the way old friends did. 

It was that thought that terrified her.

Violet crossed Brody’s name out, then crumpled the paper. 

An erratic banging startled her, forcing a curse to pass her lips as she jerked her leg right into the hardwood of the desk.

“Violet! Vi, get up!” a familiar, muffled voice calls from the other side. Violet, that sunken feeling returning to her gut, hurried from the desk to across the bedroom and unlocked all three locks. Before she could even pull the handle, Louis forced himself in, knocking into her. 

Luckily, she was able to catch herself. Before she could open her mouth to chastise him for bothering her so late, Louis slammed the door shut, relocking it. He panted heavily, unable to catch his breath as he wheezed out her name. 

“Vi, thank God, you’re okay!” Louis wheezed out, turning to press his back against the door. “We gotta go! Grab your bow, pack up- gotta get to the tunnels!”

“What?” Violet interrupted. “No, what’s going on? What-” 

She noticed the blood caked along his forehead. The gash wasn’t too deep from what she could tell, still oozing fresh blood. Upon further inspection of his overall appearance, Louis was a mess. Blood smeared across his armor and stained the sword at his hip, his face somehow both flushed and pale all at once, and his dark eyes wide with a million thoughts. 

“Louis, what the hell happened to you?”

Louis ignored her question and checked the door once more. After a moment, he moved in closer to rest his hands on her shoulders, and that regretful look in his eye uneased her.

“Vi, Grengresh is here- there have to be about thirty rats, I-” Louis took another deep breath as tension overtook Violet’s form. “King Ben sent me and Clem to get you but- but we got jumped and she stayed behind with the others to make sure they don’t get here- They’re back for you and we- we need to go! Get you somewhere safe!”

The blood ran cold within her, but the magic flared. With teeth sunk deep into her lip, Violet searched for any indication on Louis’ features that this wasn’t real. At another clap of thunder, he flinched and peered behind his shoulder with a fearful grunt. That was more than enough for Violet. 

Grengresh-- or rather, King Grengresh, as the rats knew him-- was back for her. After his last unsuccessful attempt to steal her away in the dead of night many years ago, he came back with reinforcements. There had been word that more and more rats were showing up in the mountains, that Grengresh was forming an army, but--

Memories of that night come flooding back, paralyzing her where she stood. 

Claws digging into her thin arms, the hot, rotting breath along her neck that woke her, lips curling over fangs, and those horrifying yellow eyes staring delightfully down at her-- Grengresh’s tail whipping around to knock her down as she cried for help--

“Vi, hey,” Louis spoke, lightly shaking her shoulders. “I know. I know, but we need to move. The rats know where we are but he’s not going to get you again, we just need to- we need to get through the underground tunnels. C’mon.”

He let go of her, moving over to the closet where she kept her bow and quiver with specially handcrafted arrows. 

“Ben-” Violet choked out. “What about Ben?”

“With Clementine,” Louis answered, and his voice trembled with obvious unease. “They’re buying us time, but there’s only so much--”

“We can’t just leave them,” Violet took the bow and quiver of arrows from him, gripping them tightly. Small sparks left her fingertips, running along the bow. “We- we should help. This isn’t like last time. I’m not a kid anymore and with my magic--”

“I know, trust me, I tried to stay behind. I said the same thing but we can’t let him get ahold of you, Vi. Clem made that perfectly clear,” Louis told her. “Look, I don’t doubt you, but you know what’ll happen and I- I can’t-” he wiped at the blood dribbling down his brow, unfocused, “-they’re strong. With Clementine leading them, the rats have no chance, but we will have no chance if they take you away.” 

Something deep swelled inside of her, some sort of toxic concoction of fear, rage, and bravery that fueled the magic to spark in her palms, illuminating up her arms as she secured the quiver on her back. This caught Louis’ attention. 

“Violet, please, we have to move. Open the passageway and we can-”

The hardwood floors beneath them rumbled as an explosion vibrated through the castle. Violet’s breath caught in her throat, unable to move at the sound of crumbling walls and faint cries. 

“Oh no,” Louis panicked, unsheathed his sword, and rushed back to the door. “No, no, no, Clem-”

He froze only when the voice that haunted Violet’s nightmares drawled close from behind the door. 

“Oh, sweet princess~” Grengresh chuckles in a scratchy, singsong voice. “I can smell you hiding in there.”

The sparks grew brighter, vibrating with her accelerated and angry pulse as Violet glared at the door. 

“Even now your sweat carries your fear, sweet princess… and the boy, your protector, he cannot hide the terror and anguish. How is your heart, boy?” 

Louis gripped the handle of his sword tight, dark eyes wide. 

“How is your heart? Heavy, no doubt!” Grengresh sneers. “To leave a lover to her doom with not even a kiss goodbye- Oh, how is your heart, boy?”

The other rats joined in, laughing as they continued to claw the door. 

From beside her, Louis cursed weakly, head hung low as tears threatened to spill over. With no time to crumble under the rat king’s cruel mockery, he grabbed Violet’s free hand and winced as her magic burned him. He tried desperately to pull her back towards the wall where the secret passage was to open through her magic. 

But Violet couldn’t think of such things-- all thoughts of escape were long gone. Now, all Violet could think of was getting her hands around Grengresh’s thick, furry throat. 

“You could make this so easy for us,” Grengresh continued. 

Enthusiastic scratching tore at the door, loud and frantic. They would be through soon, and the irrational, furious side of Violet longed for Grengrash to appear for when she got her hands on him-- 

“Come with me and no more of your people have to die tonight. Not that you have many left… your poor, poor brother is going to have such a mess to clean up, and so many new knights to hire… well, assuming he’s not already dead, of course.”

Violet rushed the door, but Louis’ arms wrapped around her, jerking her back towards the other side of the room despite the sparks of magic shocking him. 

“No,” he begged in her ear. “Violet, please, we have to-”

“It’s not all bad though,” Grengresh continued, a heavy bang-- possibly from the full force of another rat’s weight-- punctuating his words. “My fellow rats have many limbs to snack upon for the ride home now!”

The other rats cackled with delight, and Violet saw nothing but white. 

The door flew off the hooks, bouncing off the bed and into the wall with a deafening sound. 

The rats were quick, but Violet was quicker, drawing her bow and charging an arrow. It flew and hit the first rat inside, now on the floor jerking about with the arrow sticking from its neck and blood staining its brown fur. 

"Vi, go! I'll-"

More rats of various colors and sizes-- five, perhaps-- all with bared teeth and nasty grins, swarmed them. Louis leaped ahead, his sword piercing a speckled rat with a broken fang who cried out and attempted to lash at him. Violet shot her charged arrows swifter than ever before-- if Brody could see her now-- and she managed to take down two more before a smaller white one tackled her to the ground. 

Drool spattered over her face at the rat nipped at the air inches from her face, only being restrained by her arm against its neck and legs kicking into its belly. Violet focused the liquid hot magic into her palm, shoving her fingers into the rat’s blood-red eyes, sending pulse after pulse into the rat’s brain. It cried out in agony before the skull shattered, and the rat fell limp over her. 

“Shit!”

Louis’ sword got stuck in the belly of a rat that pinned him against the wall. Its tail whipped around, cracking against the cement walls. Louis pushed, shoving the rat away. However, the rat gripped the sword, and with its final bits of strength, thrust its claws into his shoulder, piercing the armor. 

Louis staggered back and pushed the rat off him. The body fell, the sword sticking up for Louis to grab, but Grengresh himself got there first. The rat king’s pointed nails threatened to break the skin as he wrapped a hand around Louis’ throat, forcing him back against the wall. Another rat leaped forward and pinned the rest of his body down.

His gagging caught Violet’s attention, and in seconds she was back on her feet and lunging at Grengresh with fiery white magic swirling around her.

“Violet, no-!” Louis choked out. 

Violet was so close, but the other reminding rat intercepted, tacking her to the ground. Though she shocked him, the magic frying its insides, she couldn’t get away fast enough. Grengresh’s tail cracked along the back of her head, and Violet’s vision went in and out of the darkness. 

Grengresh smirked down at her, his yellow eyes wide and merry as he sunk his teeth deep into Louis’ shoulder, getting a tight grip before ripping away, breaking away a chunk of armor and flesh.  

Grengresh dropped him to the ground and whipped his hard tail across the back of his head. 

Louis laid there, unmoving.

“Louis! Fuck, shit- Louis!”

More rats surrounded Violet, clutched onto each of her limbs, and held her down as she struggled. Her magic, though weaker, still managed to hurt them until Grengresh’s tail slapped down on her stomach, knocking all the breath from her lungs. 

Something cold and heavy locked around her wrists, and within moments, the magic sparks fizzled out. What felt like lead weighed down her bones-- the cuffs, Violet realized much too late. They're enchanted!

“Get off!” she demanded. “Get the fuck off me!” 

“Now, now,” Grengresh cooed, amused. “That is not the language used by a princess.” 

Violet spat at him, her spit landing on the dark fur of his chest. 

“Unladylike,” Grengresh shook his head, sending his tail down against her stomach once more. “That won’t do.”

Violet coughed, hacked up what tasted like blood. Grengresh’s nose twitched high in the air. He hummed, eyeing the door.

“Help comes for you, sweet princess. Too bad they’re too late for you and the poor boy,” Grengresh said. “Don’t worry, you won’t be killed. You’re far too valuable for that.” 

Grengresh moved down on all fours now, creeping closer to her. Despite herself, Violet felt as though she were a child again, and the monster beneath her bed had come to take her away. But this time… this time Violet knew the guards wouldn’t make it in time, and Louis--

She glanced at his body, still unmoving. Blood pooled around him.

Even if her head were clear, she couldn’t describe aloud the pain she felt both within her, and along her skin. The metal cuffs soaked up all the magic she had, and with the bodies of the rats holding her down, everything burned. 

“Shredard,” Grengresh addressed the rat on Violet’s left, with dark eyes and pure black fur. “Give that concoction of yours a whirl.”

“Yes, sir,” Shredard said. 

Only a moment later, a cold cloth was placed over Violet’s nose and mouth.

No matter how hard she struggled, darkness took her. 

#[the friends we made along the way] #twdg violet #twdg brody #twdg briolet #twdg ben #twdg clementine #twdg louis #twdg clouis #twdg omar #twdg fanfiction #twdg fanfic

[duchessfics]

A Lasting Mark Part 4

(https://ahs-gif-imagines.tumblr.com/post/171798402006/ahs-30-day-challenge-1530-character-that-i-wish)

(https://alainashuffman.tumblr.com/post/66522632737/sarah-paulson-in-piggy-piggy)

Billie x Fem!Reader x Audrey

Requested by @shineestark: I’m not saying we need a bit of Billie x reader x Audrey angst, but that’s exactly what I’m saying. reader seeing some random hate comments about her when she’s seen out with Audrey and/or Billie? reader and Billie and Audrey missing each other when they have to travel for filming? them fighting? SO MUCH POTENTIAL.

Warning(s): Angst, Relationship tension (I don’t know if that’s a warning, but just in case), use of cigarettes, cursing 

Summary: You told Billie and Audrey that you didn’t mind them going on vacation without you, but as time progresses you begin to question that decision and your value in the relationship.

Word Count: 10,650

A/n: Vivi I hope I did this justice. I’m working on my angst, I promise. Although this ends resolved so... 😅 For some context Since this is in “The Lasting Mark Series” the reader is a stunt double and she has three older brothers with the oldest being a stunt double as well. I mentioned that in the first part, but if you’re confused that’s where the concept is from.

Here’s part 1, part 2 [NSFW], and part 3 [NSFW]

You watch Audrey and Billie rushing around your shared bedroom, throwing last minute items into their suitcases. However when you see the time on your phone you know that you need to go. So you hesitantly tell them, “We should have left five minutes ago…”

You hear Audrey curse in the bathroom, and something falls onto the floor. Meanwhile Billie throws the remaining clothes into their suitcases, no longer taking the time to neatly fold them. Then the actress dashes out with two stuffed toiletry bags and stuffs them in one of their checked bags. Both women zip up their respective suitcases as Audrey assures you, “That’s the last of it.”

So you take their two suitcases that are going to be checked and your girlfriends roll their carry-on suitcases in addition to their purses. It’s a good thing you’ve been weight training because both of these pieces of luggage have to be at least 60 pounds. 

While walking out to the car you go over their checklist asking: 

“You’ve got toothbrushes? Extra contacts? Sunglasses? Sunscreen? Chargers? Swimsuit?” 

They answer yes to each one and you hope they’re right. That being so, you load everything into the trunk and get in the driver’s side to take them to the airport.

On the way there, Billie puts down the passenger’s window and lights a cigarette, making sure the ashes go outside. In response you hear a groan from the backseat.

“Bill, do you really have to do that now? I’m right behind you.”

The medium smirks and lets out a puff of smoke, resting her arm on the window’s ledge so most of the smoke blows out of the car. Then she adjusts her oversized designer sunglasses and purrs, “Honey, this is my last one before our vacation. I just need a couple minutes. Once we're there, I’ll be able to occupy myself with other…how do I put this…activities.”

You bite your lower lip in an attempt to conceal your smile when Audrey huffs, “Honestly.” Before moving to sit behind you. Billie just chuckles before teasing, “You know you love me, baby.” 

The actress doesn’t respond, however when you take a glance in the rearview mirror, you see her cheeks have a pink flush to them that wasn’t there before.

Fortunately, you make up for running late by speeding along and you’re on time when you pull up to the drop off at the airport. Once you’ve parked the car you help Billie and Audrey unload all of their luggage. 

After you check the trunk to make sure it’s empty Billie comes close to peck your lips and murmurs, “Goodbye, babygirl.” Then Audrey pecks your lips before reassuring you, “We’ll be back before you know it and the next time we go on vacation it will certainly be all three of us.”

The thought makes you smile and you nod before telling them, “Love you both.” Your girlfriends smile back and simultaneously reply, “Love you too.” Then you watch them walk into the airport until you can’t see them anymore and drive home.

By the time you get back to the house it’s just past noon. So you eat a light lunch of leftovers and put on some workout clothes. Once you’re dressed you head to their personal gym and workout in preparation for your stunt gig tomorrow. 

Your training session ends up being a couple hours long and by the time you’re finished, both your body and your clothes are soaked with sweat. So you go to your bathroom to take a long shower.

At first, you turn the water cold to cool yourself down from all of the activity you did. After about 15 minutes, you warm up the water and finish washing yourself. The warmth soothes your sore muscles and your body feels jelly-like when you step out of the shower. It’s at that moment that your exhaustion catches up with you and since you have no other place to go, you throw on some sweatpants and a loose tee to lounge in.

Once you’re dressed you step out to the living room and lay out on the couch, halfway watching the tv show that’s on while checking your messages and Instagram to see if there’s anything from either of your girlfriends. But for the moment there’s nothing. They weren’t supposed to land in Hawaii until 7:00 your time and that’s just over an hour from now. So you continue to listen to your favorite tv show that you have seen plenty of times before while you cook dinner and meal prep for the coming week.

In the midst of cooking, your phone goes off and you see it’s your group text between you, Billie, and Audrey. After wiping your hands clean, you unlock your phone to see it’s a picture of Audrey laughing at a candlelit dinner. You can practically hear her giggles and smile at the fact that she isn’t worried about preventing her eyes from crinkling or the hint of a wrinkle on her forehead creasing. She looks truly happy and worry-free which is rare for her.

Then another photo appears and it’s at the same dinner. But this one is a selfie and Audrey looks at the camera with a grin and rosy cheeks while Billie’s face is turned to kiss Audrey’s cheek. Even though the medium doesn’t face the camera directly, you see the corner of her luscious lips curved up into a mischievous smirk. They look so happy together.

Like how they were before you came along…

But you stop yourself from going down that road. 

They set this up before you came along. And you have to work anyway. That will keep you occupied. Next time you’ll be there.

You’re able to talk yourself down and text back, 

You both look beautiful. ❤️ Was the flight ok?

Right away your message says read and Billie replies, 

Thank you, sweetie. We made it here without a hitch. Audrey wants me to tell you she is sure you look beautiful too. 😘 We both hope your work goes well this week. 

You text with them for a little longer and they tell you what it’s like there while you share some details about the job you have. After going back and forth for a half an hour, you tell them goodnight and go to bed soon after, feeling better than before texting them…

The next morning you are up before the sun rises and drive to the set for some action film. You know it involves spies and you’re standing in for one of the secondary characters to do some of the more intense fight scenes and stunts. But it’s nothing too strenuous compared to your usual gigs.

After checking in you head to the hair and makeup trailer to get in the same attire as the character. The sun is nearly rising when you step out and as you walk to the first set you’re filming at you hear a familiar voice from behind you say, 

“Hey squirt.”

That makes you whip around to see your oldest brother standing there. Your grin mirrors his and you run up, giving him a hug. In response he chuckles and warns, “Don’t mess up your makeup, y/n.” 

The reminder makes you backup and you give a soft apology, walking over to the filming area next to him. While walking, you ask, “How have you been? I feel like we haven’t seen each other in forever. Have you talked to Mom and Dad at all? I haven’t gotten a chance to. How are Michael and Jared?”

Your brother ends your questions with a laugh and says, “Woah, one question at a time, kid.” You roll your eyes at the nickname, however the stunt director calls you both over ending any further conversation. 

You and Asher focus on your work because even a small mishap can be detrimental. It turns out that the character your brother is stepping in for is the antagonist and since you’re stepping in for the sidekick of the main character quite a few of your scenes are together.

Today consists of learning, rehearsing, and filming combat scenes multiple times with multiple shots to make sure the movement and technique doesn’t look sloppy. By the time you’re finished working, the sun is setting and you feel exhausted. The number of times your brother body-slammed you and yanked you into a harsh chokehold leaves you sore. Of course you beat him up too, but he effortlessly shakes it off. Both of you walk to the makeup and hair trailer after changing into your normal clothes and Asher comments,

“You seem quiet. You tired, squirt?”

You look to him and nod with slumped shoulders. Then you ask, “You?” 

He smiles and replies, “Of course. And there was this one stunt double, I think she played the sidekick,” You giggle at his teasing and he continues, “I don’t know her name, but I’ll tell you what she beat my ass today. I’m gonna need to recover a little.”

You shove him with your shoulder, both of you laughing as you say, “Shut up.” He opens the trailer door for you while saying, “Really though. You’ve gotten stronger. I knew you could beat up Jared, but now I bet you could whoop him and Michael.” 

Your brother is not one to just give compliments out, so it means a lot that he actually told you that. Being 14 years younger made it hard to connect with him as a kid, but when you work like this it feels much more natural to interact with each other, adult to adult.

“Thanks. I've been working out more the past couple months and I’m glad that my efforts are paying off.” You respond. 

Asher sits in one chair and you grab your phone from your bag before sitting down next to him. It’s only then that you see the 30 text messages from your group chat with your girlfriends.

While you get your makeup and wig removed you begin to read through their texts starting from the first one this morning. First is a selfie of Audrey on what looks to be a balcony in the morning light. And the words she sends with the image are 

Good morning, sweetheart. ❤️ 

The next text is Billie replying, 

Morning beautiful. 😘

 Then Audrey responds,

Did you seriously text me in the same room?

 to which Billie teases, 

Did you seriously do the same thing? 😉😘

Their banter over texts makes you let out a soft laugh and your brother leans towards you while asking, “What’s so funny?” 

Immediately you close your phone and clutch it to your chest, squeaking, “Nothing.” Your cheeks burn as he teases with a grin, “Doesn’t seem like ‘nothing.’” Then his eyes widen in realization and he says in a more serious tone, “Oh my god, do you have a boyfriend?”

That completely throws you off and your ears begin to warm up when you sputter, “What? No Ash. I—”

But he cuts you off with a deep laugh and says, “Oh you definitely do. Is that why you haven’t talked to Mom and Dad in the past couple months?” Your mind races to answer and to make matters worse, your phone buzzes and lights up with a text notification. He stands up barefaced and you try to explain, “It’s not what you think—”

“Sure, y/n. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He taunts with a grin. Then he grabs his duffle bag and slings it over his shoulder before saying, “I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” He walks out and you let out a huff of annoyance at the misunderstanding. The makeup artist shoots you a sympathetic glance and assures you, “If it helps, I have brothers just like that.” The reassurance helps you to shrug it off and less than fifteen minutes later you’re finished and heading home.

When you enter the house, the oven’s clock shows it’s nearly 10:30. So you eat a light dinner while reading through the rest of their texts and photos. Once you’ve reached their most recent texts, you type your own, saying, 

Sorry I haven’t responded at all today. I was busy working, but I’m glad you’re having a good time. ☺️ You both deserve that and more. Goodnight. 

Your body aches as you climb into bed and within seconds, you’re out cold, completely spent from the day’s activities…

The next day begins the same way, waking up before the sun rises, driving to set and getting ready to shoot. However, as the makeup artist and hairstylist fix you up you watch Audrey and Billie’s Instagram stories.

Audrey’s first picture is the selfie she sent you with her hair tousled from sleep. Next is a boomerang of her clinking a glass of mimosa with another and you can tell it’s Billie just from the glimpse of her acrylic nails. She chose a bold coral color in honor of their vacation.

Finally, it’s a video showing Audrey’s legs on a lounge chair that’s partially in the water on the sun shelf of the infinity pool with the perfect view of the beach. Billie stands towards the edge and the sun beams down on them both.

Then the actress calls out Billie’s name, making her twist to face Audrey. She looks gorgeous wearing a designer, floppy hat with a brim that’s wide enough to shade her upper half and looks to be made with straw. And even though she chose a classic black one piece, there’s a deep V-neck cut that nearly reaches her navel exposing a generous amount of her skin. Only she could pull it off so effortlessly. As per usual, her oversized designer glasses are on and she gives Audrey a smile before blowing a kiss.

Billie’s story starts off with the same boomerang of their mimosas. Next is a video that begins with a view of the private beach. She slowly turns around and you see Audrey lounging on the same partially submerged chair in the sun shelf section of the pool. Their private villa stands proudly in the background and looks perfect. Then you hear her purr from behind the camera, “Hey sugar.”

Audrey wears a maroon-colored bikini that you and Billie convinced her to get shortly after you first met them. The actress was nervous that it would reveal any signs of aging she has, but both of you assured her she would look beautiful and Audrey does. She definitely looks like a stunning model. The only other thing she wears is her own designer sunglasses with a cat-eye shape to them. 

She giggles at Billie’s words and playfully makes a small splash with her foot towards the woman filming. You hear Billie’s rich chuckle in the background and the next part of her story is a link to an Instagram post.

So you click on it and see it’s a photo of them kissing each other, perfectly lit by the sunset. Then you read the lengthy description alongside it:

“I’m not one to get too sentimental, but this lovely woman deserves this and more. So here you go, sweetheart: The first time we met I instantly knew you were special and ever since then I’ve realized how extraordinary you really are. You’ve been my rock, my number 1 cheerleader, a shoulder to cry on, someone to laugh with, and the best partner I’ve ever had. I love you to the moon and back and then some. I’m so glad we finally have the time to take a true vacation together. I am yours completely until the end of time.”

Your eyes smart with tears, causing the makeup artist to ask, “Is something irritating your eyes? I can remove it and start over.” You come back to reality and clear your throat before replying, “No, it’s just my allergies being difficult today. But thank you.” 

Honestly you wish you could have a moment to let out your emotions. But you have work to do. So you focus on channeling those emotions into your stunts.

However, when rehearsing one of your fights with your brother, you slam him down on the mat hard enough to knock the wind out of him. 

Right away you gasp and say, “I’m so sorry Asher. Are you ok?” He takes your extended hand and you help him up while he replies, “I’m good. But you may want to lighten up your Hulk smashes.”

Normally you would laugh or even smile at his teasing, but your eyes glaze over and you feel your bottom lip quivering to keep your emotions in check. That reaction makes him get serious and he asks in a lower voice, “Hey, what’s wrong, squirt?” You sniff back your tears and shake your head while replying, “It’s nothing.” He goes to say more, however the stunt director calls you back to your places.

Fortunately, you wrap up earlier than yesterday, but you feel even more worn down from both your physical activity and keeping your emotions in check. And to make matters worse, you see Billie texts you about calling tonight. 

The notification goes off at the same time you and your brother are walking out to your cars and he playfully nudges you while teasing, “Your boyfriend texting you?”

Normally you would tease back, but in your aggravation, you shove him back and snap, “Will you just leave that alone?!”

He holds up his hands and cautiously replies, “My bad.” Then he keeps a little further away from you. Right away you feel horrible and when he moves to go to his car you plead, “Wait.” 

He pauses, looking to you and you say with a thick voice, “I’m sorry, Ash. Today just hasn’t been the best for me. But I didn’t mean to snap at you.” He gives you a small smile and responds, “Hey, we all have shitty days. I just figured you were upset at everything and everyone.”

Then his smile widens, and he jokes, “Also I didn’t want to get my ass handed to me again.” That makes you giggle, and he joins in before telling you, “I’ll see you tomorrow, squirt.” You tell him goodbye and walk over to your own car.

Once you’re inside and seated in the driver’s seat you text Billie that you’re free to call. Less than a minute later you see her caller ID. So you take a deep breath to center yourself and answer, saying, “Hello?”

Billie’s warm voice responds, “Hey, babygirl. How are you holding up?”

Should you tell the truth? No. You don’t want to ruin their vacation. You said you would be fine and you’re going to sound fine. They deserve to have a break from the world and you’re going to grant them that.

“Darling?” Audrey says, drawing your attention. You clear your throat and reply, “Sorry. I’m just a little tired from work. But I’m doing alright. How is Hawaii? It looks beautiful from the pictures I’ve seen.”

Audrey is the first one to respond, chirping, “Oh it is beautiful. I mean, I don’t think it gets better than this. The weather is perfect, the villa is gorgeous, and the food—oh my god, It’s the best I’ve ever ate—”

Billie cuts in and says, “We would love to take you here sometime, honey.” Then the actress pipes up, “Oh yes! And we could show you the best restaurants, the cutest shops, and more. Everything's amazing.”

While you want to be the supportive girlfriend, tears sting at your eyes once again. So, you swallow the lump of emotions in your throat and try to say in a neutral voice, “I’m so happy for you both. You definitely deserve this vacation.”

Right away both women hear the tremor in your voice, but Billie shakes her head when Audrey silently gestures if she should ask about it. 

Then the medium tests the waters by asking, “Besides working, do you have any other plans, sweetheart?” You try to shove the tears that spill out back into your eyes with your fists while you answer, “Honestly I’ll need a day or two to recover from this job. Otherwise I’ll probably do stuff around the house.”

By now, you’ve got yourself composed enough to joke, “So if you have a honey-do list I’ll have time to take care of it.” But it doesn’t sound like your normal voice even to you. Audrey leans closer to the phone as if desiring to give you a hug and encourages, “Well make sure to take care of yourself, darling. Don’t push yourself too much.”

You wipe your nose with a leftover napkin from a fast food run you made at some point trying to not make a sound. Then you ask, “What about you both? What are your plans?” 

Both women make eye contact and hesitate for a moment. However, Billie slowly answers, “Tomorrow we’re taking a boat ride around the area. My friend owns a yacht and offered to take us. And the next day we’re planning to spend part of the day looking around at the local marketplace. The last two days are open to either just relax at the villa or go out and do something.”

You hold your head in your hand that doesn’t hold the phone and remind yourself that this week isn’t about you. 

You need to be supportive. 

Your forehead feels heavy against your palm as you tell them, “It sounds like a great time. I’m sure you’ll have so much fun. I-I think I’m going to say goodnight. I’ve had this massive headache all day and it’s flaring up right now. Sorry.” 

Immediately Audrey gasps and asks, “It’s not from the stunts, is it? Did you hurt yourself at all? Should you go to the doctor?”

You can’t help but smile at her concern for you and you realize you feel envious, but also you just miss having your girlfriends around. 

“No, I didn’t get hurt. I think it’s a caffeine headache or I’ve probably had too much sugar. But I just took medicine so I should be alright in an hour or so.”

Billie soothes, “Well we hope you get feeling better soon, babygirl. We’ll talk to you later.” You collect yourself enough to reply in your usual voice, “Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” Then Audrey quickly says, “We love you, y/n.” That feels like a punch to your gut and you wonder how you can be so selfish. You quickly reply, “Love you too.” Hanging up before you start crying…

Audrey lets out a sigh and asks, “Did we do something wrong?” Billie looks to her phone as if hoping it will give her the answer before responding, “No…I think she’s just feeling a little lonely. I mean, if her and I took a vacation while you worked or if I was the one working it wouldn’t exactly be easy.” 

The actress runs her fingers through her short hair before muttering, “Shit. But what should we say? I mean we have been working hard and this was set up before we even met y/n—”

Billie comes over to sit beside Audrey and cuts her off with a kiss. She reflexively responds to the medium, melting against her chest and opening herself up completely. 

After a moment, Billie breaks the kiss and leans her forehead against Audrey’s before murmuring, “We’ll just give it some time. She’s tired from work. But I’m sure she’s doing alright.” Audrey softly replies, “Ok.” Then they get ready for their evening swim, electing to skip on wearing swimsuits…

After getting so emotional the day before, you choose to turn your phone off for your last day on set. Honestly you need to keep your full attention on the stunts today. 

Your first one is to jump off the top of a 15-story building while pulling a gun out of the holster on your hip to shoot up at the people on the roof. Between coordinating the jump, the fall, and you pulling out the gun, it takes at least 5 times of you doing the stunt.

Next you are shooting at people behind you as you run and jump off of the edge of the building to grab onto one of the landing skids of a helicopter before climbing into it. 

That’s a complicated maneuver in itself, but you also have to do the whole thing while people are shooting at you. You don’t keep track of how many times you do that one, but it’s enough to drain nearly all your energy. And you still have one stunt left.

For this one you have to climb out of the passenger side window to get to the dash of the car. Then you hop onto the back of the car in front of you. That’s not too difficult, but you have to do all of this while the cars are moving at 70 mph. And the car you were on explodes behind you so you need to have a good grip on the car’s roof. 

But you love every minute of doing these stunts. The challenge and adrenaline rush are incomparable to anything else you’ve experienced.

When the director calls a wrap for the day, both you and your brother stagger over to hair and makeup. Even though he wasn’t in every scene you were, he did some additional scenes that you weren’t in. So both of you let out a groan when you sit in the chairs making you laugh, but also groan at your sides being sore and you laugh even more at how pathetic you sound.

After recovering, your brother asks, “You got any plans for tomorrow? Maybe we can catch up without fighting each other or filming life-threatening stunts?” You let out another chuckle, but hiss at your soreness before answering, “I’m available” So you decide where to meet for lunch and say goodbye for the night…

That evening while you take an ice bath you look over the texts you missed from Billie and Audrey as well as their Instagram stories to distract you from the biting cold. 

You know it will help in the long run, but ice baths are the worst.

Both of them show off the private yacht with different selfies and videos on their stories. And one of the pictures shows them both standing next to the railing so you can see the beautiful scenery behind them. Audrey is tucked so perfectly into Billie’s side, resting a hand on the arm that isn’t wrapped around her waist to keep her close to the medium.

Billie faces Audrey and dips her head so the tips of their noses touch and both women unabashedly smile at each other. 

While your chest pangs because you’ve never seen them look that happy with you around, you’re still emotionally spent from the day before and you feel too sore to overthink it. 

They send you a text telling you goodnight and you tell them goodnight, but that’s basically all of the interaction you have. And you feel guilty for being relieved that more wasn’t said. And yet, you desire so much more…

When you see your brother dressed in casual clothes and cleaned up, he looks quite different. He must think the same thing because he teases, “Well, you clean up pretty nice, kid.” You roll your eyes and playfully retort, “You look…acceptable.” 

At that time the waiter comes to get your orders and after they’re gone, you decide to not beat around the bush, asking, 

“Ok…how upset is Mom about me not calling?” 

He grins and jokes, “On a scale of one to ten, you almost at Michael’s level.” That makes you snort and reply with a dramatically innocent tone, “No way. I’m her favorite.” 

This time he snorts and banters, “Yeah. Her favorite girl.” You mockingly laugh before sticking out your tongue.

After taking a sip of water, Asher says, “But really, I would call them. They’re used to Michael ignoring them. But you’ve never been this disconnected before.” 

You do feel guilty about neglecting your parents. But the past couple months you’ve spent every waking moment getting to know Billie and Audrey. Well…that and you didn’t know how to explain your relationship without causing panic.

You nod in understanding and assure him, “I’ll call them.” Then you smile a little as you inquire, “Speaking of Mike, have you heard anything from him? Is he still in law school?” 

Your brother lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose when he replies, “As far as I know. But I haven’t spoken with him for, hell, six months. So who knows”

The both of you continue to talk about Michael attending law school and Jared getting a master’s degree in business. At one point, your food comes, and you continue to converse about family and future gigs as you eat. However, when you finish off your meal, Asher says, “Don’t kill me, but do you really have a boyfriend? I won’t get upset or anything. I’m just curious.”

You would rather be truthful with him now than have him tell his assumptions to your parents. So you take a deep breath and reply, “I don’t have a boyfriend,” then you avert your eyes, wringing your hands under the table as you continue, 

“But I…I have a girlfriend. Well…technically two girlfriends.”

Your whole-body burns, and you keep quiet, bracing yourself for the worst. However, he calmly says, “Hey squirt,” You look up to see him smiling and he soothes, “I’m not mad at you. That’s not something that I would necessarily do. But it’s your life and as long as no one’s getting hurt you can do whatever the hell you want.” 

You’re both shocked and grateful he doesn’t harshly judge your decision and you let out a breath of relief before saying, “Oh thank god.” But you grow serious and plead, “Please don’t tell Mom and Dad—”

He chuckles and assures you, “My lips are sealed.” And you let yourself relax back into the chair, feeling like a weight is lifted off of your chest. Meanwhile your brother finishes off his water before asking, “What’s their names? I may know them.” 

You bite your lip, but slowly answer, “It’s Billie Dean Howard and Audrey Tindall.” His eyes widen and he asks, “Like…the celebrities Billie Dean Howard and Audrey Tindall?” 

You stiffen up again and slowly nod, nervous about where he’s going with this.

His next question is, “Weren’t they a couple already?” 

You look down to your fidgeting hands and defend, “But they’ve welcomed me in.” When you do look back up, your brother frowns and his eyes look like your mother’s when she is about to cry. Then he says in a softer tone, “Y/n. That’s a publicity stunt.”

Your heart drops to your stomach and you recoil away from him while saying, “No. They—They’ve said they love me. And they even let me move into their home.” His eyes soften even more, and he gently speaks as if not wanting to startle a feral animal, 

“When does their tv special premier with Audrey starring and Billie being the inspiration?” 

Your eyes well up with tears and you whimper, “Next week.”

He pauses a moment before saying, “Having you around will draw attention. And in Hollywood, any publicity is good publicity.” Tears being to slip down your cheeks as you shake your head and deny, “No Asher. You don’t understand. They’ve been so loving and supportive. They wouldn’t do that to me.” 

He holds out his hand and asks, “Aren’t they in Hawaii right now?”

You nod and say, “They had this planned 6 months ago before I met them. And I had work anyways.” He gestures for you to take his hand and your trembling hand does take his. 

Then he gives it a small squeeze and murmurs, “Both women have millions of dollars to their name and you’re telling me there’s no way they could find a way for you to join them? Y/n, they managed to convince their old friend that’s more like an acquaintance to take them out on her private yacht.”

You want to cry and scream along with a whole range of other emotions at one time. Your tears begin to fall faster when you whimper, “But they told me they love me. They’ve told me things they haven’t told anyone else. They’ve always treated me well.”

You brother gently shushes you and lets go of your hand to give you a napkin to wipe your eyes with. Then he soothes, “I could be wrong. But this kind of thing happens all the time. It’s nothing personal and they probably did enjoy your company.”

 A hiccup of a sob escapes you and you feel like you’re going to throw up as you can’t help but wonder if he really is right. You settle yourself before making too much of a scene in the restaurant and he murmurs, “I’m sorry, squirt. I didn’t mean to upset you like that. Maybe you should go to the source and ask.”

By now you’re filled with numbness and rejection as you dumbly nod. 

Your brother pays the bill and when you get to your cars, he pulls you into a bearhug, murmuring, “I’m sorry, kid. But if you need anything at all and I mean anything, I’m just a text or phone call away.” 

By now you feel on autopilot from shock and flatly answer, “Thanks.” Then you head to their home and the whole car ride you feel unnaturally calm as everything begins to make sense now.

You know you shouldn’t, but you do look at their Instagram stories partially out of curiosity and partially to hate-watch when you get home. 

Billie’s comes up first and it’s a picture of Audrey asleep and cuddled under the covers. The medium added the text “My sleeping beauty” and Audrey does look beautiful with her hair tousled just right and her face perfectly relaxed.

The next segment is a boomerang showing the busyness of the marketplace. 

Then she has a video that begins with her front facing camera as she takes a sip from a colorful cocktail. After she flips the camera so you can see Audrey sitting across from her. Billie slides the drink towards the middle of the table while saying, “Try this.”

Audrey’s eyes narrow a little, but she slowly slides the drink towards her and takes a cautious sip. Right away her eyes widen, and she takes another sip before saying, “This is delicious!” making Billie laugh. 

The last thing in her story is a picture of their hands intertwined with each other on the beach.

Audrey’s story is next and begins with a video of her in front of a large mirror. You can see Billie’s reflection in the mirror as she finishes applying her lipstick. And when she straightens up Audrey looks to her and they share a brief kiss. The text with the video says, “A makeup tutorial for that freshly kissed look on your lips.”

The second thing is a photo of Audrey holding Billie’s hand from behind as the medium guides her through the bustling market. 

Finally, there is a boomerang of her kissing Billie’s cheek while Billie’s designer sunglasses reflect the gorgeous sunset and her lips sport a proud smirk.

Your heart aches at seeing them so happy without you. And you get mad at yourself for taking some pleasure in seeing their faces. That’s when you see Audrey posted a photo.

The pair stands in front of the same mirror as the one in her video. But in this one, Audrey stands in the center and Billie is behind her, wrapping both of her arms around the actress’s waist to land on her middle. Audrey grins at their reflection while Billie looks to where she places a kiss in the crook of Audrey’s neck.

You look to the photo’s caption and read,

“After my darling girlfriend posted something so nice and thoughtful, I figured I would return the favor. Billie I’ve never met someone like you. I knew the moment we talked that we shared a special connection. And we still do. I’m so honored to portray you in your upcoming tv special. You’ve made me a better person and the connection we have is unmatched. I love you more than words can express, but I thought I would try to give you a glimpse of my adoration with these words. I love you, Billie Dean Howard.”

She’s never met someone like Billie…their connection is unmatched…oh god Asher was right. You are just a pawn in their game of chess to use when it’s convenient. You’re expendable.

A broken sob escapes your throat and you crumble to the kitchen floor wondering how you could be so stupid. Your phone lights up in your hand, so you pick it up and see in between tears it’s a text from Audrey. Just seeing her name makes you cry harder while also getting infuriated at being so used.

You open your messages to see she texted, 

How’s LA holding up? Still smoggy? The sky is so clear here I swear we can see every star out there. It’s crazy to think we’re both under the same stars. 💖 

You laugh as you continue to weep, thinking about Audrey texting you about the stars while you’re leaning against cabinet doors as support while you break down on the kitchen floor. Then you text back, 

That is crazy. LA is still standing and covered in smog as usual.

After sending that you lean back against the cabinet doors, overwhelmed with small sobs and hiccups as the implications of their “love” settle over you.

Where would you even go? Your brother could help, but still. And what if they’re upset when you end things? They could ruin your career before it even begins. 

Your fists roughly rub your eyes while you angrily mutter, “How could I be so stupid? I’m such an idiot. Two A-list celebrities interested in me? Get real.”

Your tearful monologue that’s broken up by sporadic sobs is interrupted by your phone lighting up. Against your better judgement you unlock your phone to see Billie texted this time asking, 

Have you been keeping up with us on Instagram? There’s some pictures on there we didn’t text you.

This time your choked laugh turns into an anguished cry. You’re beyond words so you yell at the world, banging your fist into the cabinet door while you cry. But all that does is make your hand hurt and your throat sore. So you take a shuddering breath and shakily text back, 

Of course. 😘  I’m glad to see you two so happy. It makes my heart happy. ❤️

By now you’ve made it back down to small hiccups and see Billie’s texted back, 

You’re always so supportive. 🥰 We were talking about going out sometime next week to wherever you want. There may be paparazzi, but we’ll make sure to have security.

You can’t help but chuckle at how accurate your brother’s prediction really was. Then you mindlessly text back, 

Sounds good. I hope you have a good rest of your vacation.

Audrey is the one who replies this time with 

Thank you, darling. We’ll wish you a goodnight. Love you. 💕

You recoil at those last two words and your emotions rush back to the surface. So you quickly text back, 

Love you too.

Even if it will compromise your future career you need to get out of here. 

So you call your one life-line. Your brother answers in a groggy voice, “Hello?” You whimper, “Sorry for waking you up Ash. But I wondered if—”

However, your throat catches and you start to cry. You say between sniffs, “You were right about them. C-Could I stay with you for a couple nights?” 

Your crying wakes him up and he calmly replies, “Of course. Y/n take a couple deep breaths. You’re hyperventilating.” It’s only then that you realize it. You take a couple deep,shuddering breaths and he says, “How about you pack up what you can and come over tonight?” You sniff and answer, “O-ok.” So he says he’ll see you in a little bit.

After saying goodbye, you pull out your suitcase and stuff your clothes and knickknacks scattered throughout the house. Then you put any remaining items into your duffle bag and backpack. 

As you pass through the house and take specific clothing items of theirs out of your own wardrobe, you continue to cry and feel like your heart is being ripped apart. 

Walking out of the door makes you feel a painful finality, but you don’t go back, loading up your car with all of your belongings and driving to your brother’s apartment…

You manage to bring everything in one trip and when you knock on the door, your brother opens to see your eyes that are swollen from crying and broken expression. Immediately he says, “Oh, y/n.” and you crumble into his outstretched arms, whimpering into his shirt, “I’m such an idiot.” 

Asher rubs your back and soothes, “You’re not an idiot. I’ve made mistakes too. How about we get your stuff in here.”

Your brother helps you carry your stuff into the darkened apartment before leading you to sit on the couch. You were nervous that your brother would reprimand you or chastise you for acting so rash. But he holds you in his familiar bear hug and soothes, “It’s ok, kid. This isn’t your fault.” By the time you’re settled to small sniffles, you can’t hardly keep your eyes open.

He seems to notice and says, “I’ll tuck you in and we can talk about it later.” You’re shocked at his kindness once again as he pulls a blanket over you. Then he murmurs a soft goodnight and you fall asleep within seconds, too exhausted to care anymore about everything that’s happened…

The next day you’re awakened by the door shutting and your eyes feel raw and sensitive from yesterday when you open them to see it’s daylight out. The beaming sun makes you sit up to see your brother kicking off his shoes with a couple grocery bags and a case of your favorite soda. 

When he turns to see you up, he gives you a smile and says, “Morning, squirt.” Your voice is hoarse from crying when you ask, “What time is it?”

He slides the case of soda into the fridge while answering, “Just past 11:00.” That makes your eyes widen and you admonish, “Why didn’t you wake me up?” Your brother closes the fridge and looks at you from the kitchen answering, “Y/n, you called me at 12 in the morning and by the time you actually were laid out on the couch it was nearly 2. And who knows how long you had been crying.”

Then he walks over with the grocery bags and tells you, “I got your favorite chips and cookies. Also, I thought I remembered you liking this candy and homemade popcorn.” As he sets the items down, your lip trembles so you bite down on it, overwhelmed at his kindness. 

After calming down enough to speak you rasp, “Why are you doing all of this? I wouldn’t be upset if you left me alone. You don’t have to pamper me.”

He sits next to you and drapes and arm over your shoulders before tugging you close so your head leans on his shoulder as he replies, “Because you’re my little sis and you just had your heart broken.” 

Then he pauses for a beat before teasing, “Also it was this or killing them and I can’t afford the plane ticket.”

That makes you exclaim his name and shrug his arm off of you before giving it a punch. Your brother holds up his hands in mock surrender and defends, “Kidding!” Then he rubs the place you punched him while grumbling, “You didn’t have to go all beast mode on me, Hulk. I’m still recovering from being practically body slammed into another dimension.”

You smirk in satisfaction but get distracted by the throbbing in your hand and look down to see your knuckles are swollen and have gnarly darkened bruises covering them. Asher looks too and comments, “Now I know that didn’t come from one punch. What did you do, Beat someone up?” 

Your face burns at the memory and you mumble, “No. Last night, when I was crying…I punched a cabinet door…multiple times.”

Your brother tries to stifle his laughter but fails miserably and jokes, “If your hand looks this rough, I’d hate to see how beat up the door is.” You turn away to hide your grin and retort, “Shut up.” He continues to laugh when he stands up and tells you, “I’ll get an icepack. You pick out something to watch.”

While he’s rummaging around in the kitchen you turn on the tv and scroll through one of his streaming subscriptions. However, your search halts when you see your phone light up.

Before you can think your phone is in your hand and you see your group chat has 15 messages. So you open it to see they sent you some pictures before asking about you. 

Maybe…Maybe they do ca—

Your brother cuts off your thoughts, asking, “Is that them?” You whip around in surprise and admit, “Yeah. They asked about my day.” 

He comes around to the front of the couch and hands you the ice pack before sitting beside you and advising, “I wouldn’t respond.”

You must look skeptical because he explains, “Breakups are kind of like taking off band aids. While it’s painful to just rip it off in one go, the pain is gone much faster than trying to slowly peel it off.” It breaks your heart, but you know it’s the truth. So you set your phone to the side and pick out a movie, icing your hand while eating your favorite snacks…

“Billie, she still hasn’t answered any of our texts or calls.” 

If the medium had a cigarette she would be smoking it. Hell, she’d probably be through most of the pack by now. Instead she chomps on multiple pieces of mint flavored gum while pacing the room. 

Audrey’s words make her pause and she theorizes, “Maybe she’s just really busy.” The actress half-heartedly agrees, but both women don’t believe that’s the case.

As a last-ditch effort, Audrey picks up her phone and says, ���I’ll call her one more time.” As expected, it goes to your voicemail so she pleads, “Y/n, darling, if you could give us a call, we would appreciate it. Billie and I are worried about you not responding. So, if you could call or text either one of us that would be great. Love you.”

Those last words make you whimper when you hear them on your voicemail. Asher had gone to bed an hour ago and while you had promised you would ignore their call, you made the mistake of listening to their voicemails. 

After listening to Audrey’s, you tap on Billie’s voicemail from earlier and hear her say, “Babygirl, I don’t know if you’ve been busy, but Audrey and I are concerned about you. If you get a chance to call us that would put our minds at ease. We love you and miss you so much.”

Maybe you were wrong…Your heart feels torn between your girlfriends’ words and your brother’s words. You just need some time to think. You’re already moved out anyways.

The next day your brother convinces you to spend the afternoon at Venice Beach for a little distraction. So you eat a late lunch and casually browse the local shops before ending up at the beach to watch the sunset.

On the other hand, Billie and Audrey have to take a taxi from the airport to their home and feel flabbergasted at your behavior. You seemed so happy earlier this week. Now it’s like you’ve dropped off the face of the world. 

But the women go into a full-blown panic when they don’t see you or any of your personal items. This time Billie does have a cigarette to smoke and Audrey weeps while texting you, 

Y/n please text us. All of your stuff is gone, and we have no idea why. We just want to talk so we can understand what changed.

You read the message to your brother and he admits, “I mean, it is true. But do you feel in a healthy place to talk to them?” You know you probably shouldn’t, but in your heart, you do want to talk to them. 

So you nod and mutter, “I’m sorry.” Asher shakes his head and assures you, “Don’t be, squirt. This may bring more closure to the whole thing.” So you take a deep breath before texting back, “Ok. What time should I come over?”

Audrey lets out a sob of relief and exclaims, “Bill! She said she’ll come over!” The medium rushes over to read the text to confirm it’s real and not just a figment of their desperation. Then she takes the cigarette out of her mouth and suggests, “Say noon and we can have lunch together.” 

So they ask you over for lunch and you agree, feeling a little excited to see them. At the same time, you feel nervous about confronting them, but you know they deserve an explanation…

The next morning you fix your hair in the mirror, trying to conceal your trembling hands from your brother. Fortunately, he’s occupied with the video game he plays. So you pick up your purse while stating, “I’m heading out.” 

That makes him pause the game and he looks over to you when he encourages, “You’ve got this, y/n. And if you need me, I’m a phone call away.” You thank him with a small smile and walk to your car, getting in and starting to drive before you talk yourself out of going.

By the time you pull into their driveway, you feel physically ill. There is no way you can eat anything. Your whole-body trembles as you walk up to the door and you want to run away more than anything. But you press the doorbell and know you need to deal with this in order to move on.

Billie is the one to answer and if there is a perfect type of suntan, Billie has it in addition to the natural highlights in her hair from vacation. She gives you a polite smile and says, “Hello, honey.”

Right away you want to fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness. But you make yourself keep standing and stutter, “H-hi.” 

The medium lets you in and murmurs, “Audrey’s in the kitchen.” You cross your arms over your chest, feeling like the space you had gotten used to living in is foreign. Billie leads you to the kitchen where you see Audrey sitting at the table.

The actress is decent enough to give you a half smile, but the tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. You try to be amiable and say, “Hello.” 

Her eyes are shadowed when she replies, “Hi.” In the higher tone she uses when she’s annoyed but has to keep face.

You flinch at the tone and look to the floor, your shoulders slumping forward and you cross your arms even tighter. Billie attempts to smooth things over when suggesting, “Well lunch is ready to eat—”

But you cut her off by saying, “Can we talk? I mean…I don’t think I can make myself eat right now and I-I think I should explain things.”

Audrey scoffs and Billie walks over to her while gently warning, “Audrey,”

But the actress looks at you with her bottom lip trembling as she says, “Maybe you could enlighten us as to why you just stopped responding to our texts and calls. Or how you left us stranded at the airport. Do you even realize how much we care about you? The whole time we were worried if something happened to you. And you couldn’t just respond to us once?”

By now your fists are clenched by your sides and your nostrils flare as you fire back, “Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t at your beck and call us usual. Maybe I realized what I really am to you both.”

Billie’s brows furrow and she asks, “What are you talking about?”

That makes your body steam with anger and you let out a humorless laugh before retorting, “You don’t need to keep up the act anymore. My brother told me all about what this is. All I am is some publicity stunt to promote your own careers and I was stupid enough to fall for it hook, line, and sinker!”

Audrey goes to speak, but now you are heated, and tears begin to fall out of your eyes as you yell, “I loved you! I trusted you and gave my heart to you entirely! And what do I get? Seeing my girlfriends living it up on some private beach. I saw your Instagram posts. Every single one.”

Then you look to Billie and continue, “I saw your post about Audrey being the best partner you’ve ever had!” 

Then you look to Audrey and have to lower your voice so it’s less hoarse, but keep aggressive when you say, “I saw your post too. Including the description of your connection being unmatched. I saw every fucking thing.”

“I wanted to be the chill girlfriend who couldn’t be bothered. But it turns out I’m a dumb ass who would never even have a chance to be your girlfriend in the first place!”

The room goes quiet except for Audrey’s sniffing and your own from crying. Billie wipes away a stray tear with her thumb as the actress whimpers, “Y/n, others may do different things for publicity. But I swear on everything that’s not what you are to us. We love you so much.” 

Then Billie says, “We regret not bringing you with us. That was unfair to put you in that position and I’m sorry your brother saw the problem with that before we did. Audrey is right though. We love you so much. If you could give us a second chance, I know we could learn from this and have an even closer relationship. But if you don’t want to, we’ll understand too.”

You have never, ever seen them this emotional and there’s no way this reaction could be ingenuine. You may not know all about them, but you do know those are expressions of heartbreak. And if this really was a publicity stunt, surely they would have let you walk out by now. But you need to make sure. 

Your eyes brim with tears and you rasp, “Y-you promise this isn’t a publicity thing? I’m not being used?”

Immediately Audrey shakes her head and assures you, “No. We would never ever do that to you, y/n. Everything we have said or done with you is always genuine.” Your lips tremble as you look between them and you pause for a moment. 

But you know what your heart wants. So you run over to them.

Immediately both women wrap their arms around you to hug you close and you cry, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Both women shush your apologies and one of them presses a comforting kiss to your temple while the other keeps you from collapsing in their arms. Then Billie soothes, “You don’t need to apologize, babygirl.” 

Just being in their embrace provides a comfort that you have pined for since they left. The sense of safety and comfort flows through their touch and permeates to your core.

They hold you close and murmur soothing words of their own apologies while you calm back down. After waiting a couple minutes from the time you only make small sniffles, Audrey slowly asks, “Does this mean we can have a group cuddle session on the couch now?” 

Her suggestion makes you smile against Billie’s blouse which feels wonderfully smooth against your face and you nod in agreement. So each woman moves to take one of your hands and you walk to the living room.

Once there, Billie pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Audrey gives her a look, but Billie puts one in her mouth, so she sounds funny keeping the cigarette in between her teeth while saying, “Listen. I’ve earned this cigarette.”

The actress can’t deny that, so she keeps quiet as Billie lights up the cigarette.

After taking a long drag, the medium lets out a sigh and visibly relaxes, rolling her shoulders back and stretching her neck. Then she brings over an ashtray and places it on the side table closest to her. Meanwhile Audrey sits towards the middle of the couch.

You sit next to her and Billie sits on your other side and the end of the couch. Once all 3 of you are seated, Billie takes the cigarette out of her mouth and purrs with a warm smile, “Come here you two.” 

You snuggle up into her side so you practically sit on her lap, not bothered by the smoky scent. Then Audrey scoots close to you and wraps her arms around your middle to get even closer before burying her nose into the soft juncture between your head and shoulder to inhale your distinct scent. 

The medium chuckles at how close you are when you have a whole couch to spread out on while letting out a puff of smoke. But she loves it, asking, “Feel cozy, darling?” 

You nod and answer, “Yeah.” Honestly you forgot how nice this is, but your body has the muscle memory and like riding a bike you easily adjust and melt into them.

After a moment, Audrey cautiously asks, “Would you be upset if we watched some tv, love?” 

It sounds nice to be distracted from your rollercoaster of emotions for a little bit, so you tell her it’s okay and she turns it to some home improvement show. Before long, she’s providing a running commentary about the design choices and things begin to feel like before.

You didn’t know this was possible, but you manage to melt into them even more, practically purring at being so cozy between their warm, inviting bodies. After she finishes off her cigarette, Billie uses her free hand to gently scratch the base of your neck, taking care to not get her fingers tangled in your hair. The sensation makes you feel all warm and tingly and you look to the medium’s honey eyes, hoping she can see how good you feel.

The medium gives you a knowing smile and softly asks, “Do you feel better, sweetheart?” You nod, looking down to conceal your demure smile while Audrey scoffs and mutters, “I can’t believe they went with a galley kitchen when they have plenty of room for an open concept. That would have looked so much better.” 

Billie shares a smile with you about Audrey’s reactions. Meanwhile the actress has her feet propped up on the plush ottoman in front of the couch and leans against you, mindlessly brushing her fingers up and down the top of your thigh.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, so you move to pull it out to see it’s your brother. His text message says, “You ok, squirt?” 

Billie takes the opportunity to lightly nibble on your earlobe. You let out a giggle at the feeling and duck away, but don’t go too far. The medium chuckles and asks, “Do you feel ok, babygirl?” You look over her face and don’t feel any of the earlier insecurities you had earlier. So you answer, “I do.”

Then you bite your lip unsure how to phrase it. But you try to, starting, “I want to apologize about earlier. I was being insecure and didn’t consider you both—”

“If you start apologizing one more time, I will give you something to occupy your mouth.” Audrey warns, cutting you off. That makes you turn to see the actress’s attempt at a serious expression although her lips twitch in an attempt to keep from smiling. 

You decide to play along, raising your eyebrows when you tease, “You honestly think you could top me again?”

That makes her eyes widen and she replies more as a question, “Yes?” 

Billie chuckles from the other side and murmurs, “Oh Audrey, I think we’ve got ourselves a switch.” Her cheeks turn bright red and she bites her lip.

You grin and look down to your phone, texting back, “I’m good. We talked and worked things out. I’ll come over tomorrow to explain. Thank you for everything.” Then you tuck your phone back into your pocket and look to Audrey again. 

Once you look down at her face you joke, “It’s ok, honey. You’ll only have to submit to both of us sometimes.”

Her mouth gapes while Billie laughs and murmurs, “I like this idea. What about you, Audrey? You think you can handle submitting to 2 women?” The actress lets out a small whimper and nods, clearly turned on by the idea. You smile at her reaction while Billie purrs, “I missed you so much, babygirl. And I think these next couple weeks will be a good time for us to become…reacquainted.”

Now your cheeks warm and you can’t help but smile when you look between their beaming faces. Then Audrey says, “Listen, I hate to ruin the mood, but I am absolutely famished. So could we order some pizza? I desperately need some greasy, American comfort food.”

The comment causes you to snort while the medium assures her, “I’ll order some pizza.” Before you can even think about it, you blurt out, 

“I love you both.”

For a moment, all 3 of you go quiet and you wonder if you made a mistake. However, Audrey comes up to your face and gives you a kiss before murmuring, “I love you too, darling.” 

Then Billie places one of her fingers under your chin to guide you to face her so she can kiss you. After lingering for a couple seconds, Billie parts and whispers, “I love you too. We love you so much, y/n.”

You bite your lower lip and it is nice to feel your cheeks tight from smiling instead of so many shed tears. The medium shifts so she can see both you and Audrey when she tells you, “Just give me a minute and I’ll have two pizzas on the way with your favorite toppings for my special girls.”

Without planning it, you and Audrey say thank you at the same time, making you both laugh. Billie lets out a sound of amusement while she scrolls through her phone. Once she finds the number, the medium stands up and says, “I’ll be back.” Then she steps into the kitchen to call for the pizza. 

You hear her talking smoothly to the person taking your order. However after she hangs up, Billie peeks her head out and asks, “Hypothetically of course…if salad was left out for, say, nearly 5 hours would that still be good?”

You both laugh, only now remembering the intention to eat lunch and you reply, “Unfortunately, the salad is at the point of no return. Hypothetically of course.” 

Billie grins and says, “Well the pizza is on the way, so we won’t be without food.” Then she disappears and you hear something being thrown away. Audrey giggles next to you, making you grin and while things aren’t perfect, there is no other place you would rather be.

Tagged: @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk, @chokemepaulson, @versonstar, @find-me-a-constellation, @cordwliagoode, @psychobitchtess, @midnight-lestrange, @mysweetdelia, @venablesbitch, @peachesandlesbians, @nerdaroo, @cordeliafoxxe, @leskaksel, @lovelymspaulson, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in later works!

#AHS #ahs imagine #ahs fanfic #ahs murder house #ahs apocalypse #ahs roanoke #ahs billie dean howard #billie dean howard #billie dean howard imagine #Billie x Reader x Audrey #ahs audrey tindall #audrey tindall #audrey tindall imagine #audrey tindall x reader #billie dean howard x audrey tindall #ahs sarah paulson

[emily-strange]

Second Chances

So with some encouragement, I thought I’d start the John x reader fic I’ve had in my head for ages! I’m not forgetting about my Micah fic at all, for those who care ;) I just really can’t shake this idea. 

For the premise of this story, Jack is a little bit younger. I just can’t hurt that boy’s feelings!

Summary: You're Sadie Adler’s 18 year old daughter who was visiting from school when the O’Driscolls attack. How will you cope with gang life and your increasing feelings for someone who, on the surface, isn’t up for grabs?

Pairing: John Marston x female reader

Warnings: None

Chapter 1

It’s freezing. The world outside blanketed in snow and ice.

Everyone sits huddled into the small Colter shack covered in blankets and large coats; doing whatever they can to stave off the bitter chill that leaks inside.

Mrs Adler is situated between you and Mary-Beth. She cries into her hands and lets the tears drop freely onto her skirt.

“Mama, you have to try and calm down” you say softly. Only to be met with more wailing. You take a deep breath and make your way to the other end of the shack where John, you think his name’s John, lies in a terrible state after his wolf attack.

You can’t help but sigh and rub your forehead, trying to ease the tension that keeps building. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a croaky voice.

“Things really that bad?” John quietly asks before letting out a small laugh; followed by a hacking cough. You rush to sit on the little stool near his head and ease him up to help him cough better. After he’s done you lower him back down and smile.

“Oh you know. Been better.” you smile softly and place his freezing hands underneath the blanket that’s draped across him.

“Yeah I bet.” is all he can manage to say before wincing and you decide that a bit of light conversation might be a good distraction for you both.

“I just needed to breathe you know? Grief….it’s suffocating at the best of times let alone when you’re stuck with a bunch of strangers. Not that we ain’t grateful! I’m not saying that. Just….it’s….” you trail off struggling to find the right words but John jumps in with an answer.

“It’s like you’re being crushed.” he says and you give him a small, sad smile.

“Yeah…that’s about right….you know I haven’t even cried yet?” you whisper and hang your head in shame. John reaches out his hand from under the blanket and lightly brushes your hand to get your attention.

“Won’t lie. I don’t know everythin’ that brought ya to us, been kinda out of it. But…don’t beat yaself up so much. Can see it in yer eyes….won’t do no good. Ya doin’ all you can ‘n thatsa nuff.” he says through his broken, chapped lips.

You find yourself drawn to his eyes. Beautifully vibrant eyes that tell you he knows all about beating yourself up. You wonder what happened to him.

You give him a tired smile, “How did someone so wise get beaten by some wolves eh?”

It makes you happy inside to see John smile despite the terrible shape he’s in.

“Nah we’re tha same. Not beaten. Justa bit bruised” he huffs out.

Before you can say anything else, the woman who’s been sitting with your mother the most, bursts through the door with her little boy. If you had to guess you’d say he was about 2 or 3. The topic of children has never been one you’ve been interested in. You usually just nod and smile as people discuss them. You’re happier to actually have a chat with the children rather than the parent.

Abigail storms her way over to John and you jump up and out of the way.

“John” she says rather curtly, “the boy wanted to see ya.”

You look at Jack and to be perfectly honest, the kid doesn’t seem interested in the slightest. He’s looking at the blonde woman who’s sat in the corner drinking with an old man. She’s making faces and little Jack is loving it.

Your attention is snapped back when John answers Abigail. You weren’t aware that they’re a family. In all fairness your mind has been elsewhere the last couple of days.

“Yeah, well, now he’s seen me.” John grumbles at her, not even looking at Jack. You can tell that Abigail is instantly pissed off by this.

“Guess I was hoping to see a corpse!” she shouts before walking Jack away to be in front of the fire.

For a moment you stand shocked at what you’ve just seen. It’s clearly a very messy situation and with everything that’s going on, you’re staying far away from it.

John looks at you and you smile awkwardly before moving back to sit with your mother who collapses onto your shoulder. You put your arms around her and rock her back and forth, like she used to do to you as a child.

You can’t help but notice that John is still straining his neck to look at you before giving up and relaxing into the thin cot underneath him.

Days pass and you move on with the gang. The 'Van der Linde’ gang you learn.

You arrive at Horseshoe Overlook and begin helping unload the wagons. You can hear Miss Grimshaw screaming already and the sound cuts right through you. As you’re carrying a large bag over to one of the tents you see Arthur walking away from Dutch. From what you’ve gathered by listening, and what you’ve been told, Arthur is his right hand man.

The bag is taken from your hands and you look up to see your mother.

“Go on” she motions towards Arthur and you smile; jogging off to catch him before he mounts up.

“Umm excuse me, Mr Morgan?” you call out and he stops, turning to look at you. He genuinely seems like a nice man. Fatherly almost. You’ve not seen him lose his temper yet as you have with the other men. Well, other than kind Hosea of course.

“Yes, Miss Adler, what can I do fer you?” he asks and you smile.

“Y/N. Please.” you say and he nods, saying in that case you’re to call him Arthur. You nod.

“Okay, Arthur. Well I was wondering if you could put in a good word with Dutch for me?” you start, “See, my skills don’t really lie with sewing and washing. I’m happy to do that of course, you’ve all been so kind to me and my mom. I just….I’m a really good hunter.”

“Is that so?” Arthur says smirking, but not unkindly.

“Yeah. Living where we did, I had to be.” you laugh.

You don’t see it, but Arthur looks across the camp and see’s your mother watching you both. She nods and mouths “please”. He subtly nods back.

“Well, hows about this. The woman’ve been yappin’ at me that they’re bored. So when I get back from runnin’ this errand, I’ll take you all inta town 'nd we’ll get some supplies. We’ll go huntin’ and if I like what I see I’ll talk ta Dutch.” he smiles and turns to mount onto his horse.

You smile a real smile for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Thank you Mr..Arthur” you say correcting yourself.

“No problem. Now, go help out before Miss Grimshaw gets ta ya” Arthur chuckles before riding out of camp.

As you walk back toward your mom you hear a grown from inside a large tent. Curiosity gets the better of you and you glance inside to see John struggling to turn over on his cot.

“Hey, need a hand?” you ask quietly as to not make him jump.

“Ya know what. A hand would be mighty helpful” he laughs and you cant help but laugh too when you see the mess he’s gotten himself into trying to get comfortable.

However while entering the tent you can clearly see that John’s only wearing his union suit without the blanket covering him.

“Umm” you clear your throat, “Maybe I should go get Abigail?” you say trying to avoid looking in his general direction. You point outside of the tent and move to exit before John jumps in.

“God, no. Please just….just help me shift downa bit. Please?” John sounds so fragile and you just can’t find it in you to refuse him. You meet his eyes and fight a smile.

“Okay” you say and go over to help him move down the cot. He gets his legs into a comfortable position and holds onto your arm while you use your other one to support his upper-back. Once John’s comfy you find yourself just watching his relaxed face.

“Ah thanks. Much better.” he sighs and you smile.

You take a moment to study John in the light of his open tent. The scars on his face are healing well but still look sore and angry, as do his bruises. He looks almost frail. There wasn’t much to eat up in the mountains, everyone seems a bit gaunt but having been missing for so long John seems to be the worst.

John snaps you out of your trance.

“Haven’t seen much of ya.” he notes.

“Um, yeah, you know. Its all been a bit manic” you laugh humorlessly.

“I was uh, kinda worried Abigail said sumthin’ to ya.” he adds awkwardly.

That takes you aback.

“What? Um no….no she hasn’t said anything” you say quickly while glancing through the gap in the tent flaps. You can see Abigail ushering Jack into their newly designated area of camp. Your eyes snap back to John as he manages to prop himself up on his elbows.

“He….he ain’t mine.” he starts and you find yourself fiddling with your hands, “She tells everyone he is. 'nd I got nothin’ against the kid but….he ain’t mine.”

This really is none of your business. But you can’t help the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.

“Why…why would she lie?” you ask quietly but before he can answer, the flaps of the tent are pulled open.

“John!” Abigail shouts before coming to a sudden halt in front of you. Your eyes go wide and you can’t help but stutter like a child who’s been caught stealing candy.

“I…was just helping…John….but I um” you say quickly.

“But you was just leavin'” Abigail finishes for you which John admonishes her for.

“Abby for God’s sake” he starts but you cut him off.

“No, I was just leaving. B…bye John.” you say even quicker and give a clearly angry Abigail a small, awkward smile as you sneak past her. She doesn’t give you any extra room so you have to make yourself as small as possible to get past.

Soon as you’re on the other side of the tent she drops the flaps and starts whispering harshly to John. You stand for a few seconds trying to work out what they’re saying before you give up and make your way over to your mom.

“You okay baby?” your mom asks when you join her on a large rock just outside camp.

“Oh yeah. Fine.” you sigh and rub your tired face.

“You weren’t made to be cooped up like this” your mom says before she starts crying again, “I’m sorry this happened”.

“Oh mama don’t say that” you say before hugging your mother tight, “We’ll be okay.”

You hold your mother as she cries. Rocking her back and forth, all the while watching as Abigail storms back out of John’s tent. She catches your eye and you look away from her. You can’t deal with all this drama right now. You have to get yourself back on your feet; to start rebuilding your mothers life. The one that was so cruelly taken from her.

“We’ll be okay,” you repeat quietly.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #john marston #rdr2 john #rdr2 john marston #john marston x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 sadie adler #rdr2 sadie #sadie adler #rdr2 tag #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfic

[friendlylocalwhumper]

six and a half hours

It’s a long, slow process, Lux being broken down. Emory’s seen all the different stages of it. He’s seen the beginning, when discomfort builds up until Lux starts to get overwhelmed, grows restless. He’s seen loud, messy sobs wracking Lux’s body as he reeled in the aftermath of being hurt, his mind lost in a mess of grief and horror and shame. Over enough years with Lux he’s seen it all.

Now, though, he’s being forced to see it all at once, in order, the whole process. They’re at the point, now, where Lux is taking quick shaky breaths, pinned between hands and the table, a knife pressing into his abdomen. Lux is making soft panicky sounds. Those are the sounds he makes when he’s been pushed past his limits, when he’s in so much pain that he can’t process it all. When he’s scared, when he knows there’s no way out, and he’s going to scream soon.

Not the yell that comes with sudden pain - no, he’s already let out a few of those. The kind of screaming that’s coming is the kind that makes Emory want to crawl into a small dark space and hide from the world. It’s a sound that hurts his heart, makes everything feel hopeless and pointless because that’s how Lux feels. It’s such a raw sound, so rich in distress. Emory’s skin crawls in horrified anticipation.

There’s blood on the floor, dripping from the edges of the table. Not a crazy amount, not spilling and splashing, just falling in fat drops to plop into little puddles below. Dried blood cracks along Lux’s side from the first cuts hours ago. There’s so much blood on his chest, pooling at his navel, that the man with the knife has to take a cloth and wipe it away to see where to push the knife in next.

There’s a diagram on a laminated piece of paper at Lux’s side. A diagram of a body, and lines drawn along it. Smaller diagrams along the side and in the corners that go into more detail about how to cut, what to do once incisions are made.

He’s experimenting on warlocks. Lux shuddered when they were told that, when he was first being strapped down - said something about a lab, and an angel, and that he couldn’t do this again.

There are still things Lux hasn’t told Emory, ways he’s been hurt, but that sounds like a big thing to keep secret.

There’s a clock on the wall in stopwatch mode. The seconds flick by, milliseconds running tirelessly, as they pass into the fifth hour. The pleading stopped before the first hour was up.

The thing is, Emory can tell Lux has accepted this. He was being hurt in the mindfucker’s cellar for a year - and thinking on that for any longer than in passing yields some awful realizations. Like that if Lux was chained up long enough for his shoulders to be as bad as they are now, then he must have been kept chained up even when he was asleep, not even able to lie down. And how he perks up, scarcely breathing, when a door opens or someone approaches unexpectedly, as if an echo of when he must have waited all day only for the cellar door to open, his torturer finally in the mood to hurt him again.

So he was in that place for a year, being hurt at someone else’s whims, in their house, on their time. That probably means every day, every day for a year, he had to lie pinned or sit restrained or hang from chains, withstanding whatever was done to him. His mind must have gone places, his thoughts must have been on a short loop of pain, half a thought interrupted by a flinch, pain again.

The sixth hour comes. It’s terrible, but Emory is bored. Still horrified, still devastated and angry and worried, but bored. His arms are getting sore from the ziptie keeping his wrists together behind his back, and his legs are numb from staying kneeling. He’d stretch if his ankles weren’t tied together too, and a tie looped between his wrists and ankles to keep him sitting like he is. His knees hurt, and his neck is stiff.

Lux is lethargic, nearly passing out here and there only for his expression to crumple and a whine to escape him as the knife is pressed in harshly to startle him back into awareness. There’s no screaming, and no more pleading. Emory is probably the worst person in the world for this, but he almost wants it to be over more for his own sake than for Lux’s. Almost.

He shouldn’t need the reminder. He shouldn’t be bored, shouldn’t be mentally listing all the ways in which he himself is having a less than comfortable time. But a shuddering gasp comes out of Lux, new enough to catch Em’s attention, and then there’s that scream. The one that makes Emory want to curl up and hide. It took - he glances at the clock, blanches - took six and a half hours to get that scream out of Lux. Just enough pain, enough time spent pinned and struggling to cope, enough exhaustion and overstimulation in the form of being sliced into.

The pleading has returned, too. Screams and choked-out sobs and no, no, no no please, s-s-stop I can’t, please no more I can’t I can’t, ple-e-ease sto-op!

Emory shudders. The knife trails up to Lux’s throat, the point tapped against the underside of his chin. “I can make you quiet for good, you know,” Says the man with hands drenched in blood, and Lux keens, the begging dying out again. His limit, his hard limit, has been reached. There’s something like madness in those teary blue eyes. Deep, desperate need for it to end, and the conviction to do something about it.

A faint glow comes to Lux’s palm, out of the torturer’s line of sight. Emory stares in shock. If Lux hasn’t used his magic by now, it’s because it’s not safe to, there’s something Emory doesn’t know that’s kept him docile. And besides, Lux’s instinct when pushed past his limits isn’t to fight, it’s to break, to show he’s broken, to crumble and obey.

And yet the magic works, grows brighter in his hand as the knife drags along his skin again, opening maybe the last scar left healed closed on his whole front. The knife presses in again, somehow not tearing open anything inside that’ll kill Lux in the next few hours - bloody fingerprints smudge the diagrams as the man keeps true to their guidance - and then the knife is out, its bloody tip pressed lightly to Lux’s cheek, the man above him letting out a sigh.

“I’ve learned all I could without causing damage that’ll kill you. Guess it’s time to let you and your man go.”

The magic flickers out in an instant. “Le-et… let us go?” Voice small and rough from hours of tension and pain noises, Lux watches with wide eyes as the man unlocks each restraint.

“Yes. I’ve learned all I could. Followed my template here, didn’t find anything much. Hmm, maybe I should stitch you up, this is a lot of blood.” A hand presses to Lux’s sternum to discourage the warlock’s attempt to push himself up.

“Nnh, I, m-most of it’s dried, I can - do it m’self, please let, let us go n-now.”

Wrists and ankles free, all Lux has to do to get out is convince the uncertain man above him. It must be his eyes that do it, big and sad. He didn’t fight very hard, didn’t lose his mind screaming or anything. He’s as good a victim as a sick fuck could hope for.

The hand leaves Lux’s chest to slip around under him and help him up. Two hands grip onto his shoulders to keep him from swaying so hard he topples to the floor. Lux is released to stumble across the room to Emory; the man follows to crouch beside Em and cut open the zip ties.

And then it’s done. Dizzy, Lux clings to Emory, eyes empty with a kind of shock at being allowed to go. Blood sizzles and pops as the man pours something onto it from a bottle, sponges and a mop bucket getting pulled out to clean up. Emory has to stop walking, face twisted up, to let the pins-and-needles feeling that comes after resting his weight on numb legs. Poor Lux, pale and barely keeping himself conscious, holds a trembling hand over the area of his stomach with the most concentrated stab wounds.

“I’m sorry,” Gasps Emory as they start walking again before the pins-and-needles sensation is completely gone. He knows he’s wasting time, being selfish. He got bored while Lux was being tortured. “I’m sorry, Curls. Let me carry you.”

Each step Lux takes is punctuated by a soft whimper. He shouldn’t be up on his feet, shouldn’t - this is so fucked up, all of this - he’s been brushed off, sent to stumble away from where he was strapped down and cut into for six and a half hours. What the hell is that?

With all the blood, all the times that knife dipped into Lux’s body, Emory is so glad that the man had diagrams and patience and a plan to let them go. There’s no way Lux would be alive otherwise.

The warlock doesn’t protest the idea of being picked up. Maybe he’s on the verge of fainting; he seems to be drifting, now that he doesn’t have to focus to make sure he’ll get out of there alive. Emory scoops him up as smoothly as he can, cringing at the raw keen it draws out of his boyfriend.

“I’ve got you, it’s okay. Hurts to get picked up but now you don’t have to walk, isn’t that… better?” Emory’s words falter as he looks down to see Lux pass out, eyelids fluttering shut, breaths slowing, head flopping back. Lux’s whole front, chest and stomach, is an awful thing to see. Seeing it up close, Emory wonders how someone could stay awake for six hours while that was being done to them. That’s like, a quarter of a whole day. He walks, rolling his steps, starting to worry worse now that Lux is unconscious. Lux shouldn’t have to wake up, feel the pain of the stab wounds, and work up the courage to heal himself. No, Emory’s going to get ahold of a healer and let Lux wake up to a friend watching over him, fixing the damage, taking away the pain. After - he can’t even wrap his mind around it - after six hours of a knife pressing into him over and over again, Lux deserves to be taken care of.

#whump #drabble #mine #lux #emory #restrained #stabbed #knife #blood #pain #losing consciousness #guilty #bored #begging #i just wanted to make lux suffer long and slow #and make emory watch #torture

[patsdrabbles]

Stellar

Title: Stellar Fandom: M*A*S*H Pairing: Charles Winchester/Donna Marie Parker Rating: Gen Word Count: 4174 Summary: The year is 2530. A hum coming from beside him on the bench startled him and made him look down. Pierce’s digipad was still unlocked. He must have checked it only seconds before the new patient had been brought in. Charles didn’t mean to look; it was something only someone way below his station would do. But he had already seen the message before the lockscreen had turned the digipad’s screen dark. Charles quickly glanced away. I need to talk to you. I think I’m falling for Chuck. Someone... was falling for him? *** Sometimes it takes a crashing ship (not theirs) for two people to admit their feelings for each other. Space AU. :D A/N: Part 21 of my Daily Fanfic Chocolates calendar :D I got the wonderful prompt "Overhearing they have feelings for you" for Donna and Charles from the wonderful @blue-ravens, who also helped tons with editing this fic - thank you so, so much, my friend, for everything <3333 Please enjoy ❤

(links to AO3 and the DFC masterpost are in the reblogs!)

It was approximately 9.45 am on the Gromea system’s moon Delta V when his latest patient was pushed out of the operating room on a hoverbed and Charles allowed himself a breather for the first time that morning. He had been up and working for six hours already and while he had been on Delta V for almost two years by now, the shorter day cycles still messed with his sleep pattern.

His gaze was drawn to the window. It wasn’t the lush blue grass outside that caught his attention mere seconds later though, but a tiny dot in the sky above them, lighting up for a single moment before fading. He quietly cursed under his breath. Unless they had seen the attack coming and had evacuated the ship in time, neither the hospital station on Delta V or any of the emergency shuttles would be able to help this ship’s crew anymore.

For a moment, Charles pondered the “what ifs”. What if there weren’t a war between two of Earth’s closest allies – friends, in fact? What if the tension between the Allea and the Onae had lasted longer than the 320 Earth years it had, but no war would ever have started? What... what if humanity was actually drawn into this messy war in the end, despite both warring parties having pledged to leave them unharmed, permitting them to help both their wounded? ...what if there were no war at all and there was no need for a doctor again?

But he knew that the 320 Earth years long tension were merely very short forty years to the Allea and the Onae and that the tension between both species had always pointed into the direction things would develop. Peace negotiations had been attempted by several allied species but to no avail. And no need for doctors? He briefly closed his eyes when he remembered.

The HealthBox disaster of 2314.

The doctor-replacing boxes, controlled by AIs, had been introduced area-wide after a very long and successful testing phase. They were used for daily check-ups, medicating and even surgeries, when there was a need for it. All that was needed was a HealthBox and its patient. Several weeks in, a network-wide system failure occurred, however, killing several thousand people who were, at that moment, inside the HealthBoxes. Charges were brought against the company that had developed the system, and while the idea of the HealthBox hadn’t been a bad one, per se, the idea was never taken up again, even as technology advanced.

Other species who used similar health systems, such as Earth’s first extraterrestrial ally, the CO2-breathing Elosians, agreed that the decision was a wise one. Humans were considered physiologically far too complex and more vulnerable to damage than other species.

Charles’s attention returned to the operating room as a new hoverbed was pushed into the room by one of the Elosians working on Delta V’s hospital alongside the human staff. The young Allea was Pierce’s next patient however, so Charles decided to check the wall terminal for news. It seemed like they were nearly done for the morning. He almost sighed when a thought occurred to him. So no one aboard the ship above Delta V had made it.

He shook his head to himself and had just returned to his part of the operating room, when the door opened and Hunnicutt walked in.

“Hawk?”

The tall doctor met the chief surgeon’s eyes and gestured toward the hallway with a movement of the head.

“Potter need any help with the young nel in the decontamination room?”

Hunnicutt nodded.

“Kid started bleeding really bad and Potter needs some swift fingers to fix ‘em.”

“Shit.”

Pierce was already running past Charles as Hunnicutt started moving in the opposite direction to fill in for his patient. Charles briefly considered pointing out that he could have taken over the patient, as well, but Pierce and Hunnicutt were PierceandHunnicutt and one better didn’t get in the way of the well-practiced team that they were. It had taken Charles not long to learn that they knew very well what they were doing, communicating without words at times, as much as he would never admit it out loud.

A hum coming from beside him on the bench startled him and made him look down. Pierce’s digipad was still unlocked. He must have checked it only seconds before the new patient had been brought in.

Charles didn’t mean to look; it was something only someone way below his station would do. But he had already seen the message before the lockscreen had turned the digipad’s screen dark. Charles quickly glanced away.

I need to talk to you. I think I’m falling for Chuck.

Now, he could be sorely mistaken. Maybe Pierce knew someone who knew a Charles they and Pierce knew. Maybe a Chuck. But Pierce had never mentioned anyone of this name besides Charles himself, and they had both been stationed on Delta V since the beginning of this war. Also, he kept insisting on calling Charles “Chuck” or “Chuckles”.

His heart... did something funny. He couldn’t put it in words, not exactly, a potentially fatal mistake for a surgeon, but he was distracted and those were in fact his emotions messing with him.

Someone... was falling for him?

But then he considered the nameless sender of the message, someone Pierce had only saved as a knife and a blood drop emoji in his contacts, and he shuddered. Did he actually want to know who that person was, should it really be him they were falling for?

He was still thinking about this while watching Hunnicutt fix up Pierce’s patient when the door to the operating room swung open and in walked Donna Marie Parker. Dubbed “helping angel” by him and many of the staff and – jokingly – “knife Donna” by Pierce, who claimed that it couldn’t be possible to legally collect as many blood donations as her team always managed to supply them with. (“Jealous?” was what she would always ask with a grin when he mentioned it, and ruffle his hair. Pierce’s disgruntled facial expression never failed to make Charles laugh quietly. Once, Donna had bowed after leaving a spluttering Pierce behind and Charles had applauded, feeling a smile spread across his face when their gazes met.)

With Donna came some of her crew, all of them carrying supplies. Her independent help organization was the one who provided them with the most supplies, which was even more impressive when one considered the size of her team. But a team’s success, especially when it came to collecting supplies and donations from others, was only as successful as its leader, and as Potter once had put it: “That woman can convince so efficiently and intuitively, she could start wars and end them. We can count ourselves lucky that she’s dead set on ending this one.”

Charles had only just stood up to offer his help when she was already speaking up, clearly scanning the room for what would have been the equivalent of, some centuries ago, their commanding officer. Thankfully, it wasn’t 1950 anymore, though with the interstellar wars still breaking out every once in a couple of centuries, it did occasionally give off the impression.

“Where is Potter? He’s going to be overjoyed, we got almost twice the donations this time than last time round.”

She was smiling, justifiably proud of her team and herself, and it was as if someone had placed the sun in the middle of the room, she was radiant.

Charles startled when he caught himself thinking about her like that. When had this started?

“He’s in the decontamination room, fixing up a young nel. I wouldn’t expect him back any time before noon.”

She nodded at Hunnicutt, who was just putting away his gloves. “We’ll just leave what we got you guys next to the shelves, along with a list.”

The surgeon nodded and gazed at the hoverbed with the patient he had just fixed up being pushed out of the room.

Charles, meanwhile, was busy looking at Donna curiously. One of the nurses helping with stashing the new supplies away apparently had made a joke that had her laughing, a deep, hearty sound – he could hear it clearly where he sat and he found that a smile was tugging on the corner of his lips.

Hunnicutt turned toward Charles, a light, tired smile on his face himself, glad about one more patient that had made it. Allea or Onae, it didn’t matter to him who was brought into the operating room. He just wished, like all of them, that it would end, and soon.

“We should use the midday calm to hit the mess in a few, don’t you think, Charles?”

Charles startled at the question directed at him. He was just about to agree when Potter’s voice sharply rang through the hospital’s speakers.

“Everyone, gather up the patients and the CO2 supply masks for the Elosians among us and leave the hospital right now. Orbit Control gave us a Code 9 warning – there is a ship coming down and it might just hit us if we don’t move quickly.”

There was some cursing coming from Pierce, who must still have been in the decontamination room with Potter, and then the message ended.

They were trained for emergency evacuation procedures. Some noise broke out as everyone on their own feet started to hurry, knowing that they had mere minutes, but some voices loudly and calmly demanded only necessary communication. It quieted down a little afterwards, but the shuffling of feet on the floor and the cries of worried patients still pulled on everyone’s nerves, the staff’s faces tense as they worked.

Charles helped Hunnicutt and the nurses, pushing patients on their hoverbeds outside, through doors and windows alike. That was the hardest but also the easiest part. The patients were restrained to the hoverbeds by their gravity control system and wouldn’t float away once outside, and the nurses could click several beds’ ends together to pull as many patients at once into safety as possible. Charles could see Donna out of the corner of his eye once. She was helping with the evacuation but also instructed her team to save a good amount of supplies. He wished he could tell her how grateful he was for her thinking this far. Should the hospital be destroyed, they’d be without supplies for at least a week.

They had just evacuated the last of the patients, Hunnicutt already heading for the door to join Pierce, Potter and their patient, whom they had hastily put into one of the bubble hoverbeds they had for contamination emergencies, when another noise became noticeable, much louder than the original jumble of noise after Potter’s announcement.

It grew louder by the second until, for a blinding moment, everything turned white and too loud to make running possible. The next seconds, debris started falling and dust started to rise. Then, the sound of a spaceship, small as it might have been compared to the fleet ships still warring up in space, falling slowly to its side, the outer hull tearing in the process, filled their ears.

Charles couldn’t see anything and there were shouts coming from all directions, several nurses clearly having hurried back to help them. He wanted to speak up so that they could find him, but there was too much dust in his throat. He stumbled forward, one step at a time, and a silent scream escaped him when a hand suddenly touched his nose and cheek.

The “Help” was so quiet he could barely hear it, but it was there. And as the dust started to finally settle a bit, he could make out where he was and that the person behind the fallen parts of wall and roof and shelves and other debris could be none other than Donna.

He hastily began shoving aside what he could move, glad to be mostly unharmed, several nasty gashes aside, and some minutes later the hand was followed by an arm and another hand and Donna began shifting what she could from where she was trapped to help him.

Finally, she was able to free herself and climb through the opening they had created. She stumbled forward toward him, feet catching on the obstacles strewn all across the floor, and he stepped forward, catching her with a hand holding each of her arms.

“Thank you, Chuck.” It was quiet, her voice clearly as affected by the dust as his, but he could hear her without effort, anyway.

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, all the noise around them seemed to have faded away.

“Of course,” he managed to croak and neither of them was looking away and–

“Charles! Donna!”

The noise came crashing back in.

“They’re here, Pierce!”

Margaret, the hospital’s head nurse, became visible and Pierce soon after, as well. Charles and Donna found themselves ushered out of the nearest door while Pierce quickly began explaining.

“We need to hurry, there are still patients aboard the ship and a mechanic among our patients gave us an estimate of–”

He automatically looked for his digipad and realized that, as it had been in the operating room at the time of impact, it was probably lost for good. Margaret checked hers as they kept moving toward the ship as fast as they could.

“We have about twenty minutes left before this ship’s core goes up. And it likely will go up, with a crash like this.”

They left the hospital and ran toward the nearest port the other staff had been able to find. The ship’s engines might have been heavily damaged, but some systems aboard were still running. The noise outside was nearly unbearable. For a moment, Charles wondered if space would also constantly be this loud, would the vacuum of space carry sound.

Hoverbed after hoverbed of Allean wounded was being pushed out of the ship. The four of them joined the already assembled staff and helped move the patients as fast and safely as possible. It was more strenuous now that they were outside, however. The Elosian staff had to constantly wear CO2-masks, and even though they all were wearing gravity controlling boots that kept them from gently floating with every step they took, moving felt slower. Margaret kept giving them updates on the time every minute and after seven minutes, at last, the last of the fifty patients had been saved. On Potter’s instructions, the staff began to hurry through the blue meadow, hoping to gain as much distance from the ship as possible. Charles and Donna found themselves in the rear of their procession, pushing the last chain of hoverbeds together with some of the nurses.

There were approximately eleven and a half minutes left, when Donna suddenly stopped walking. Charles startled and, after indicating to the nurses to keep walking, stepped closer.

“What is the matter?”

Donna looked at him earnestly and he knew that something was very wrong.

“Nobody looked for the pilots in all this mess.”

She was already running back toward the ship as fast as she could and he hurried along.

“They are most likely going to be dead, but we still need to try to save them, yes.” He held his side as they kept running, the talking and an atmospheric oxygen pressure lower than that of Earth’s making it hard for him to breathe properly.

“Don’t you understand?” Donna looked over her shoulder briefly. “If they die – or are dead already – and the ship explodes, leaving us without a clue of what exactly happened?” She halted to pick up a long piece of metal lying on the ground near the ship. “This whole incident will most likely end up being misused as war propaganda.”

Charles blanched when the realization hit him. “You’re right.”

Donna handed him another long piece of metal, likely planning for it to be used as a lever should they need it.

Then, they entered the ship.

They had left with the patients only some two minutes ago, but now there were already noticeable differences. For one, it was hotter inside than before – the core was close to overloading. They would have to get the pilots and themselves out of there, and quickly. The noise level, too, had increased over the course of the past few minutes.

“C’mon, Chuck, it’s not far to the bridge from here.” Donna’s voice was shaky, but her gaze was determined, and Charles knew that he would have followed her anywhere. He trusted Donna with his life – and if that wasn’t a realization requiring some thinking over. But he shook his head lightly and followed her deeper into the ship.

There were close to no lights on anymore the further they went, and the walls were occasionally bent from the impact, blocking parts of the hallways they wove their way through. It felt like they were taking forever when really, only two minutes had passed when Donna shouted, “There! I can see the door to the bridge at the end of the hallway!”

Charles was climbing over something that blocked the hallway to catch up, but just when he wanted to agree, a piece of ceiling paneling came loose and hit the back of his leg. Donna came running the second he yelled in pain and helped him back onto his feet. He looked up to give her a grateful smile and thank her, but the words died on his lips. Because for the first time, he saw her looking worried, scared even. And then she was turning away again already and he isn’t sure if he imagined the murmured, “Shouldn’t have let him come along.”

Charles wasn’t able to make up his mind on what to make of her utterance, so he pushed the questions aside for the moment. He evaded further dangers from here on, loose cables and other wall fragments, trying to ignore the pain in his leg as he followed Donna onto the bridge.

The pilots, much to their surprise and relief, were still alive. They were badly hurt and unconscious, trapped between their chairs and flight consoles, but once they’d have them out of there, they would be able to treat them.

The way back, once they had freed the pilots from their traps with the help of their makeshift levers, felt like it took them twice as long as the way in, but Donna had her digipad’s countdown set on speaker, informing them of the time they have left every minute. They had four minutes left by the time they made it out of the ship’s port, a pilot each slung over their backs.

And Charles felt like sobbing with relief because Pierce and Potter were there, having returned to the ship with hoverbeds and worry etched on their faces.

“One minute later and we would have left!” Pierce shakily commented as he took Charles’s charge off him and heaved her onto the hoverbed.

“Off we go, kids!” Potter commanded, taking a last look at the ship, the humming now growing louder.

And they ran.

They ran until breathing hurt and they couldn’t run anymore, but kept running anyway. Then, Pierce and Potter pulled the hoverbeds down as near to the ground as possible and they all lay down, covering the pilots and their heads as well as they could.

The next twenty seconds were some of the loudest any of them had ever experienced.

The ship exploded. They held their breath.

And then the debris started to hit the ground.

They were far enough away to be out of immediate danger, but the heavy thuds of ship parts hitting the ground made them flinch as much as the original explosion had done.

As they finally scrambled to their feet, they saw that the majority of the hospital had gone alongside the spaceship.

“Holy moly.”

They could only nod in agreement with Potter’s silent exclamation.

“Let’s hope they’ll send shuttles to fight the fire soon. For now, we need to find the rest of the gang and try to help these two, posthaste.”

Potter and Pierce took over pushing the hoverbeds again, Potter not allowing Charles to help since he had very well noticed his limp, as well as the blood staining parts of his pants leg.

That was how Charles found himself slowly trudging down the field alongside Donna. He kept trying to think of conversation starters, desperately wanting to say something, but came up with nothing every time round.

Her hand brushed against his after some minutes and he turned his head to look at her, ash in her hair and on her face, looking tired but... relieved.

She didn’t meet his gaze right away when she spoke up.

“Thank you, Chuck. For–” She looked up then, and Charles’s breath caught. “For trusting in me and coming along. I mean–”

And now that all the adrenaline was abating, she let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“I mean – we could have died, Charles!”

And he looked at her blankly, because yes, he had come to the same conclusion much earlier already and he had followed her lead despite the impending danger.

“Chuck–” And she was looking at him with big eyes and he didn’t understand why she was looking so sorry for what had been a remarkably rational decision and – she pulled him into a hug that was so tight that it took his breath away.

“Donna,” he coughed. “Donna, dear, you’re asphyxiating me.”

And she let go as if stung by a bee, yet didn’t move away. Her breath was warm on his cheeks – alive – and below the dirt on her face she was blushing. And Charles thought that maybe, maybe he could be bold about his feelings for once, maybe say or do something silly, such as taking her hand in his, but then Potter’s voice cut through the air and interrupted the moment they were having.

As they continued walking, still a good hundred meters behind Potter and Pierce, it hit Charles. “You are the knife and blood drop emojis in Pierce’s contacts.” The words were out before he could hold it back. She turned her head towards him and gave him a funny look, surprise mixed with disbelief. Charles would have laughed if he weren’t so embarrassed to have taken so long to figure it all out.

“I am?” she asked, and he realized that she didn’t know, but he was one hundred percent sure somehow all of a sudden and he was grinning like a fool.

He stopped in his tracks and she instinctively did, as well.

“What is it, Chuck?”

He shook his head for a moment, wondering how it had taken him so long to realize that in this whole damn war, the best thing that had happened to him? Was meeting her. And he had been a fool for not letting her know how much he had grown to like her before.

There were dirt and ash and blood all over their faces and clothes and his hands were shaking as he took hers into his. But it was okay, it was okay now. They had saved everyone and likely had prevented a war turning worse than it already was in the process. They had time now.

And Charles’s thoughts were a jumbled mess as he watched her looking down at his hands holding hers gently and then back up at him. A smile blossomed on her face as their gazes met. She lightly squeezed his hands and rubbed her thumbs over them, waiting for him to form the next words.

And he wished he had more to offer than a meal at the canteen on the next moon they were going to be stationed on, but maybe, when the current situation was over and dealt with, they could both take some time off, just a few days and–

“Would you care to go out to dinner with me?”

And it was silent for a moment, as silent as it could be on Delta V with a huge fire burning nearby and the sound of shuttles approaching to put out said fire. If Charles weren’t so sure by now that she was returning his feelings, he might have excused himself and left as quickly as he could with his newly acquired limp. But she liked him. She had told Pierce that she was falling for Charles, in fact. And the looks and conversations they had exchanged over the course of the past two years... he had been so blind.

Before he could even start worrying after all, however, she took a step closer and nodded.

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Donna answered with a tremble in her voice and the beginning of a smile on her lips.

“Splendid,” Charles replied with an equally shaking voice and placed a hand on her check, brushing some of the dirt away.

“Absolutely stellar, in fact.”

#m*a*s*h #m*a*s*h fanfiction #charles winchester #donna marie parker #charles x donna #mash #mash ff #ff #fanfiction #my posts #my fanfics #pat writes #Stellar #space AU #AUs #hawkeye pierce #Daily Fanfic Chocolates #fanfic advent calendar #22.12.2019 #2019 #not the biggest fan of adding read mores but boy this is long so yeah #prompted #blue ravens #blue-ravens #colonel potter #margaret houlihan

[katalicz]

19 bliban if it tickles your fancy

of course my friend, here you go!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17440433/chapters/49387754

“I could kill you right now!” 

Blitz has been awake for long enough to realise that he is, once more, in a hospital, when the door to his room swings open and Bandit appears, still in his gear and with a furious look on his face.

“You’re an idiot!” he bites out, striding forwards and throwing himself into the chair by Blitz’s bedside before Blitz can open his mouth to say hello. He can’t even protest that he isn't an idiot, because he isn't exactly sure what he’s done this time to end up here. The painkillers are making his entire body feel horribly fuzzy and his mind is still mostly blank from the anaesthetic, which is enough to tell him that he’s had more than a little fall, at least.

“Hi,” he says – or croaks, rather, since his throat feels as though he’s gargled a handful of gravel, and Bandit scowls before carefully guiding a cup of water he’s procured from seemingly nowhere to Blitz’s lips to allow him to drink.

“What time is it?” Blitz asks when he’s finished, watching as Bandit tosses the cup over his shoulder to land neatly in the bin. It’s very impressive, he thinks, but doesn’t say it for the fear of annoying Bandit more.

“It’s almost seven,” Bandit replies, crossing his arms. Blitz doesn’t have the strength to reach out and take one of his hands, which is a little concerning, but overall, that’s not too bad considering that the raid had started at eleven.

The thought must show on his face, because Bandit closes his eyes in frustration and says, “Seven am. You’ve been here for 15 hours, you idiot.”

Ah. That explains the fury, then, as well as the dark bags sitting like bruises beneath Bandit’s eyes. Knowing him, which Blitz is pleased to say he does, he’ll have been awake all this time, prowling through the hospital ward and making anyone he encounters shy away in terror.

“I feel fine,” he says mildly, and tries to wiggle his toes. They respond after a few attempts, thankfully, and he looks back up to see Bandit watching him with a worryingly unreadable look on his face. “It can’t have been that bad.”

“You don’t remember what happened,” Bandit says flatly, a statement instead of a question. Blitz winces when he has try harder than usual to shake his head no. “And stop moving before Doc sees you and ties you to the damn bench.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Blitz muses, still trying and failing to read the look in Bandit’s eyes. He hopes it’s just the drugs making him slow; he’d spent a ridiculous amount of time learning to read Bandit’s many, many faces, and really doesn’t want to consider that he’s forgotten any of them. He’d probably earn an award for being a terrible boyfriend, if he had. “He likes me, I’m a good patient.”

Bandit blinks at him once, and Blitz’s heart lurches in his chest as the look fades from unreadable to completely blank in the way it only does when Bandit is shutting himself away from the world and away from any kind of emotion and away from Blitz.

“Dom?” he says, as gently as he can, and forces his arm out to grasp weakly at Bandit’s clenched hands.

It’s the wrong thing to do; Bandit lurches to his feet with a snarl, sending his chair clattering to the floor. His body is wrought with a tension that makes Blitz’s shoulders ache to look at, and he wants to reach out, to sit up and draw him close, but he can’t.

“Bandit—” he starts weakly, not knowing what else to do. For a painful beat nothing happens, then Bandit is turning on his heal and storming away with a cold fury that makes Blitz’s chest hurt to watch.

“You almost died!” Bandit snaps, eyes glinting dangerously when he turns, and Blitz’s breath catches in his throat as the meaning of the words sink in. “You took a bullet an inch away from your goddamn spine, you absolute fucking idiot—”

“I didn’t, though,” Blitz hears himself say, even as his blood seems to freeze in his veins with terror, as his pulse thunders in his ears.  “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

Bandit pauses in his tracks to stare at him, and Blitz’s skin prickles under the intensity of his gaze. “I could kill you right now!” Bandit snarls, resuming his pacing of the room, his hands clenched into tight fists that will leave him with a headache if he carries on much longer.

“Please don’t, we spent a lot of time fixing him,” Doc interrupts, appearing in the doorway and smiling wanly at Blitz.

Bandit throws a thunderous glare at him but doesn’t reply, and Doc watches him for a moment before cautiously making his way to Blitz’s bedside.

“How do you feel?” he asks gently, and Blitz closes his eyes for a moment to pull himself together. When he opens them, Doc is watching calmly, the eye of the storm that’s still quite literally raging around them.

“Sore,” he replies, wincing as his voice cracks and gratefully accepting the cup of water Doc offers him.

“As you’ve probably heard, you were quite lucky,” Doc says as Blitz drinks, and Blitz has the feeling that he’d be in for a lecture if Doc weren’t looking so worn out. “It wasn’t quite so bad as Bandit was making out, since he ran off when one of the nurses told him to prepare for the worst, which due to the position of the bullet, we initially believed were paralysis or stroke.”

There’s a distressed sound at that which Blitz eventually realises came from him, and a brief pause in pacing when Bandit appears to trip over his own feet. Blitz inhales deeply, holds it for a count of five to try and stop himself from panicking, and exhales.

“What was it actually, then?” he asks quietly, and Doc smiles wanly.

“The bullet was almost stopped by your armour and ended up lodged four centimetres to the left of your upper thoracic spine. The shockwave from the impact would have done the most damage, and whilst we were worried about the risk of paralysis for a while, the MRIs and ultrasound show no damage to the spinal cord or surrounding structures due to low-velocity and low-calibre.” Doc folds his hands together and shrugs.  “We did surgery to remove the bullet, flushed the area to prevent infection, sealed a small tear to your dura, and stitched you up. Easy as that.”

Nothing about it seems easy to Blitz but he nods weakly anyway and closes his eyes again, unwilling to look at Doc’s tired face, at Bandit’s wrath. “That’s good,” he says weakly, and hears Bandit snort from somewhere to his left. “I’m glad it wasn’t a rifle shot.” He’s only half joking, and winces with regret when Bandit curses at him and resumes his stomping with increased vigour.

“So am I,” Doc says quietly, “because then we would be faced with the worst.”

There’s sombre silence for a second, broken only by Bandit’s frantic footsteps, before Doc sighs. “Will you please sit down?” he asks quietly, and the pacing stops, leaving the room uncomfortably quiet. “I’ll sedate you if not; you’re only making yourself worse.”

“Fuck you,” Bandit growls, from much closer now, and a hot hand closes around Blitz’s own. If he clings onto it with enough force to feel the bones shift slightly, Bandit doesn’t seem to notice, and Doc doesn’t seem to care.

He forces his eyes open to find Bandit sat down again, elbow on his knee and face hidden by his free hand. Doc is still watching worriedly, and shrugs a shoulder when Blitz meets his eyes.

“We’ll need to keep you here overnight before returning to base,” he says apologetically, dragging a hand through his hair. “Just to make sure there are no complications from the surgery. Then we’ll do some tests to ensure the nervous system is functioning properly, which shouldn’t take too long.”

Blitz nods, even as fear flutters through his stomach. Bandit’s grip tightens on his hand to the point where it’s almost painful. “How long will it take to recover?” he asks, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Doc sighs. “Not too long, we hope. There will be some muscle weakness due to the surgery but that should pass within a week, and you should be back to normal within a month, with any luck.”

Blitz squeezes Bandit’s hand again and relaxes for the first time since waking up. “That’s not too bad then,” he says, and Doc smiles again.

“Not too bad at all,” he confirms. “Though if you do it again, you’ll be benched from the team until you learn not to run directly into the line of fire like an idiot.”

“I’ll kill you myself if you do it again,” Bandit says hoarsely, peering up through his fingers and scowling fiercely. The effect is ruined by the redness rimming his eyes and the slight tremble to his shoulders, and Blitz’s heart aches for him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, smiling tiredly at the small “fuck you,” he earns for his trouble, and startling when Doc stands up to stretch.

“Anyway,” Doc says, stepping back and checking the line of machines along the wall. “I’ll give you another dose of painkillers but won’t bother putting you under again so we can finish the tests. And if you can persuade him to at least get changed, we’d all be very grateful.” He shoots a mildly amused look at Bandit, who flips him off half-heartedly, and Blitz wrinkles his nose in sympathy with the medical staff. His gear is still filthy with the usual dust and grime from being in the field, and he probably stinks of sweat and gunpowder too.

“I’ll do my best,” he promises, grimacing as Doc fiddles with the machine hooked to the IV line and sends an uncomfortably cool flood of fluid into his veins. The pain that had slowly been building up between his shoulders lessens immediately, though, and he can’t help the small sigh of relief that escapes him.

Doc rolls his eyes and heads for the door. “You should have said it was hurting,” he scolds, “I would have given them to you first.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Blitz replies mildly, but Doc’s already gone, and suddenly the room feels far smaller.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” Bandit says quietly, voice gravelly and breathing loud. “I’m serious. I thought you were dead, when you went down.”

A painful lump forms in Blitz’s throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, closing his eyes. He’s hit with a wave of exhaustion, the painkillers and emotions and adrenaline getting the better of him, and when he opens his eyes again, he’s unsurprised to find his vision blurred and cheeks damp.

Bandit watches him quietly, thumb pressing firmly into the back of his hand. The empty storm in his eyes is gone, replaced with a tired sort of fear that Blitz is all too familiar with, from missions gone wrong and too many close calls, from nightmares and memories and silly accidents on base that shouldn’t be as frightening as walking into a gunfight but somehow are.

When he’s pulled himself together, he squeezes Bandit’s hand again and smiles weakly at him. “You look like shit, by the way,” he says teasingly. “It’s a good job I can’t smell you or I’d probably be in a coma.”

Bandit rolls his eyes and leans forward to rest his elbow on the bed. “I’ll go and shower when they come and do your tests,” he promises. “The nurses here are a bit nervous.”

“They’re probably not usually, you’re just a bit terrifying,” Blitz yawns. “You knocked over a chair, nearly stomped through the floor, and threatened to kill me. Twice. It’s enough to make anyone nervous.”

Bandit rolls his eyes, presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and doesn’t look sorry in the slightest.

#r6s #rainbow six siege #bliban #guess who's back babey!! #if this is bad im sorry i just gotta write at the moment to keep the juices flowing lmao #Anonymous

[alchemicalys]

A Small Offer of Comfort

Fandom: Satsuriku no Tenshi Pairing: None (ZackRay centered, though) Rating: T (for swearing, cause y’know, Zack is in it) Word Count: 5500 Summary:  As Rachel learns just what it means to be on the run with a wanted criminal, she begins to wonder about Zack’s life before they met, and the conditions he must have endured to make it here. Rachel only hopes that, now that they’re together, she can do something to change that.

Read on AO3: [link]

Rachel huffs in a clear show of annoyance.

Huddling next to Zack on a concrete floor with nothing more than a thin blanket to shield them from the night air was doing little to help Rachel find sleep. Despite their busy day, she couldn’t help but feel wide awake. It doesn’t  help that, as her eyes scan their temporary shelter, her mind also wanders aimlessly.

She shuffles a little bit, clearly restless and sore at the points that make contact with the ground beneath her, before finally settling on her back. She stares up at the warehouse’s roof above their heads, the deteriorating tin slates blocking her view of the stars in the spots where the rust hasn’t carved gaping holes through their surface.

Expressionless eyes turn away from the sight above her to stare at her partner in crime. The blue-hued moonlight, filtering through large windows lining the far wall, is just bright enough for her to see his face. He rests peacefully beside her, his features calm, breath quiet. Her lips purse when she remembers the ease with which he fell asleep, followed by the somber thought that he is probably used to uncomfortable sleeping arrangements like this.

While it had been a few weeks since they had reunited, Rachel had yet to fully adjust to their life on the run. They had both agreed to stick together until Zack decided to fulfill their promise, but this situation where they’re constantly on the run from authorities is completely unfamiliar to her. She hates how much she still has to rely on him, but it isn’t just that her inexperience prevents her from being useful. When it comes down to it, what bothers her the most is how much it reminds her of the first time she’d stepped into Zack’s room on B6, the ache she had felt in her chest when she has seen the conditions he’d been living in.

Zack was used to surviving, used to scavenging for food and shelter, used to constantly being on the run. Rachel hates that she knows it’s true. Has Zack ever slept on a real bed before? Eaten a home-cooked meal? Taken a hot shower? These simple things that Rachel had taken for granted before were noticeably absent in their present situation. She could tell that it didn’t seem to matter to Zack one way or the other, and although she knows these are things neither of them really need, it doesn’t change the fact that she wants him to experience these simple comforts once in a while.

It’s not necessarily right to say she thought they deserved these luxuries; it was more that Rachel was selfish enough to want it for them, at least sometimes.

“Oi, Ray.”

Rachel’s body tenses briefly as his voice tears away the veil of quiet surrounding them. Her gaze shifts to meet Zack’s in the dark, finding his tired eyes already looking at her. She pinches her brows together in curiosity, wondering what caused him to wake up.

“Get some sleep already. We have to get moving soon and I’m not gonna carry your ass if you start passing out on me.”

With his words now hanging between them, he turns away from her, tugging the blanket up over himself a little more before settling back down. She feels no need to answer him anyway, so she doesn’t. Instead, she listens as his breathing slows once again, then shifts back into her original position on her side, her arm tucked under her head to try and alleviate some of her discomfort. She forces her eyes closed as she attempts to take his advice and rest in the little time they have left. Eventually, her body relaxes and her thoughts slow as consciousness finally slips from her grasp.

~*~*~*~

They pack up and head out as the sun rises, hoping to make it into town before the morning traffic starts to pick up. The long dirt path which leads to the warehouse, littered with red and golden leaves where they’ve died and fallen from their branches, eventually turns into a paved road. The trees that once bordered it become houses, which grow closer together as they make their way deeper into town.

The streets are still fairly empty, but Rachel keeps her eyes out for anything that may pose a threat to them. She’s been more cautious recently; this was the first big city they had arrived in after making their escape three weeks ago and they should probably move on soon if they don’t want to be caught. Zack seems calm beside her though, and she tries to pull herself towards that same sense of ease.

By the time they make it downtown the buildings are so tall that Rachel can’t see where they end without tilting her head and looking straight up. Here, people are starting to bustle around, beginning their morning routines. The indistinguishable happy chatter and sounds of traffic starting to pick up don’t bother her, but then again it’s not herself that she’s worried about.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel watches as Zack grips the handle of his disguised weapon tightly and hears him exhale loudly. She knows he’s getting restless, so she’s quick to point out a small side street, the entrance wedged between two buildings, which they head towards quickly.

Much of their morning is spent this way, avoiding populated areas by hanging out in the shadows,  snagging some food for a late breakfast, and strolling around the backstreets as they run errands and pass the time. The sky continues to shine in ominous greys, but Rachel mostly ignores it even as the wind begins to pick up, nipping at her exposed skin.

They attempt to dodge groups of people as they move through the town, but there’s no way they can avoid crossing paths with everyone. Rachel can tell that it grates on Zack’s nerves, hearing and seeing their overly-happy faces, and she can see him getting increasingly irritated as the morning wears on.

By the afternoon Zack’s mood has soured considerably. She knows they’re here to acquire more food, bandages, and other essentials, but she wonders if it would have been better to come by herself. She can tell how much the foot traffic they’ve passed over the course of the day has gotten to him by the way he clenches his jaw every time they come across a group of smiling pedestrians, or how he’s been abnormally quiet for at least an hour. She wonders if there’s anything she can do to help, but keeps coming up blank.

They’re walking in an alley, shaded by some towering department store, when Zack finally speaks up, “I’m fucking hungry.”

“We just ate.” She blandly points out from beside him.

Zack turns on her quickly, “I fucking know that!” He stomps ahead of her a little bit, body tense as his free arm lifts itself into an angry gesture, and Rachel is reminded of a child throwing a fit.

She waits for him calmly, doesn’t bother to catch up to him as he storms off, instead continuing their stroll at her normal pace. This was something she was used to by now anyway, and it’s not like she can get mad when she truly considers the circumstances.

So, rather than respond to Zack’s foul mood, she instead keeps her eyes out for opportunities. She’d already picked a few pockets this morning, stashing the bills she found in the jacket of her fake-fur lined winter coat, so it wouldn’t be unreasonable for her to actually buy them some snacks from a market or something.

Zack returns from his outburst before too long, and even though she can still see the tension clearly in his shoulders, he seems to have calmed down just a bit. “Let’s go,” he grumbles before they continue their aimless walking in silence.

When Rachel’s feet begin to ache, she requests that they take a break. Rather than looking for an actual place to sit though, Zack just plops unceremoniously onto the ground, right between a dumpster and a small service door.

Her nose scrunches just slightly at his action, mildly disgusted. “I didn’t mean that I wanted to sit here.”

He smirks at her expression, clearly amused that she’s reacting to him at all. “Why? Not clean enough for you?” He makes a show of wiggling around in the dirt and grime purposefully.

Rachel looks away, cheeks puffing a bit at his clear teasing. “Fine. I’m going to get snacks.” She states before turning to leave without another word.

“I want chips.” He shouts as she walks away. “And a coke!”

He watches as she briskly vanishes around the corner before pulling himself up using the handle of his scythe. Despite her boring expressions, he can always tell when he’s getting a rise out of her and it amuses him to no end. He leans his weapon against his shoulder, takes a few paces in one direction, backtracks, turns around.

Not a minute later he’s tapping his foot, groaning, “How long is she gonna take?” He turns his head towards the dumpster beside him, glaring as if blaming it for the delay, then kicks it once for good measure.

The sound of a door opening distracts him from the trash, and he turns towards the sound of stumbling footsteps. A fairly round man staggers outside, flushed and disoriented, and Zack is quickly met with the strong scent of alcohol. He’s looking down at his feet, probably to make sure the ground doesn’t fall out from under him in his drunken haze, and rummaging around for something in his pocket. The door swings shut behind him as he finds and pulls out a smoke. With a cigarette in one hand, lighter in the other, he raises them up towards chapped lips, making it halfway before finally taking notice of the other person nearby.

As if in slow motion, the man’s gaze travels upward, past combat boots and red jeans and a blood-stained hoodie, before meeting a pair of mismatched eyes. Zack mouth forms a deranged smile as the man’s eyes alight with recognition. His body tenses, unlit cigarette slipping from his fingers as he freezes in shock.

“You- you’re-” He can’t seem to even speak properly through his fear; it just makes Zack even more eager to slice him open.

“That’s an interesting look on your face,” he declares gleefully, “So full of fear. If I give you a three second head-start, how far do you think you can get?” He readjusts the weapon on his shoulder so that he can lean in close to the frozen figure before him, not bothering to stifle his grin in the slightest as he states in barely restrained excitement, “Let’s see.”

Zack begins his countdown, watching with laughter in his eyes as the man wastes no time and rushes off down the alley, stumbling in his intoxication to get away. Her barely makes it 30 feet before his time is up, rounding a single corner before Zack catches him, cackling gleefully as he tugs him harshly by the collar, and throws him to the ground.

“Was that really the best you can do?” The drunk man attempts to get back up, but Zack places his foot against his abdomen, forcing him in place. He grabs at Zack’s legs to throw him off, but there just isn’t enough power to get him to budge; Zack can tell the moment he recognizes his efforts as futile, watches the fight leave his eyes. He raises his weapon.

“No, please—” Laughing in his delight, Zack takes just a moment to savor his favorite part of any kill, at the sight of a face morphed into one of terror and hate and desperation, much like the one staring back at him now. He then swings his scythe down like a gavel, piercing through flesh and bone with ease–straight through the chest.

Blood trickles out of the wound, making its way up the man’s throat and out his mouth. His features morph into pain as he tries to cough against the liquid in his lungs, as his body begins to fail. Zack watches this all in excitement, laughter wild and unrestrained as the itch that had grown throughout the day finally calms itself.

Rachel had long since finished her shopping, and returns to the place she left Zack, chips and soda as well as some bandages she’d snagged filling her shoulder bag, only to see that he's not where she left him. She looks around, seeing no clues beyond the oddly unlit cigarette on the ground,  and makes an educated guess as to what had occurred. Listening proves more useful than looking; she suddenly hears a familiar, maniacal laugh reach her from down the alley, beyond where it splits down two separate paths. As she approaches, she can hears Zack more clearly, and when she turns she is met with a scene that causes her to exhale her exasperation.

Zack tugs his scythe from his most recent victim, grinning and bloody. He turns towards her, and she's thoroughly unsurprised by the excitement in his eyes.

“Zack.”

“You should’ve seen this bastard trying to run away from me. Looked like he was about to shit himself!” He doubles over as he laughs again, and she can only assume he’s replaying the man’s expression in his head. Her heart beats nervously in her chest as her eyes sweep their surroundings once, twice, searching for any motion that may indicate a living body in the shadows.

She doesn’t find anything, and so turns her attention back to Zack who seems to have finally calmed down enough to now savor his joy silently. This gives her the opportunity to speak.

“I was only gone for 10 minutes.” She states this factually, but Zack doesn’t need to see her expression, however vacant it may seem, to feel the clear reprimand in her tone, and feels the grin slide from his face.

He responds to her by glaring as she approaches him. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to take a break. He recognized me as soon as he saw me. What was I supposed to do, huh?” Zack crosses his arms, staring down at her quizzically as if daring her to come up with an answer to his ridiculous question.

Figuring it doesn’t matter much at this point, and not really caring to sour Zack’s mood once more, Rachel relents, “You do look more relaxed now.” As she speaks she begins to inspect the body, crouching down on the balls of her feet so she can feel around the dead man’s clothes for anything useful. Zack just shrugs off her strangeness, curiously watching her to see what she’ll find. Despite a few twenties in his wallet, Rachel finds little else on his person. She moves on to inspect the wound Zack had inflicted next.

“Tch. You’re expression is even boring searching a dead body,” he notes. The scythe scrapes a little against the concrete as Zack moves to swing it back up over his shoulder, and he starts to pace again.

She conveniently ignores him. “I don’t think this will be passed off as a random mugging, with a wound like this,” she informs him calmly, rising up and catching his gaze. “We should probably cover the body to at least make it less obvious.”

He groans, but sets his weapon against the nearest wall, following her instructions without further complaint as he drags the body off towards the side of the path before covering it with broken-down boxes and other trash haphazardly.

After their attempt to hide the body, almost certainly fruitless considering the foul smell of blood and death they couldn’t possibly do much about, they head away from the crime scene through the back roads. Technically they could leave town since Rachel had already picked up what they needed, but there was still the issue of shelter for the night.

They walk together until the sun’s light falls below a horizon they can’t see. She looks up at the darkened sky as she tries to solve their predicament; the grey clouds hovering above them do nothing to relieve her concerns about impending raining.

She wonders if they should just head back to the warehouse they had slept in last night. It wasn’t ideal but at least they wouldn’t be soaking wet.

Feeling a weight press against her suddenly, Rachel stumbles sideways a bit before correcting herself.

“Raaaaaaay,” she hears Zack whine as he leans harder against the arm he’d propped on her head, pushing against her even more, “I’m still hungry. You never brought me food.”

She wants to roll her eyes, instead reaching into her bag to grab his snacks, a task which turns out to be much harder with how determined Zack seemed to be in trying knock her over. She grasps the chips in her hand, presenting them to him.

He snaps up, snagging the package as he straightens and tearing into it without preamble. Her lips turn up just a bit in amusement as he devours the entire bag in record time, acting more like an excited child than a murderer.

He tosses the bag away after emptying it before looking her way expectantly.

“I don’t have any more.” She responds immediately.

“But I’m still fucking hungry. Lets go get more.”

At the implied ‘we’ in his statement, she makes a point to look down at his clothing, staring at a particularly large red stain, still fresh,

Zack scoffs as his eye twitches. “Shut up. Why do you always gotta be like this? Fine, you go then!” He rolls his eyes at her reasonable non-response.

“Sure,” is her simple reply as she turns to head out, complying with his request if for no other reason than to stop him from complaining about it. It might also have to do with the fact that now she’s getting hungry too. She takes a few steps before she stops, tilting her head towards him.

“Are you waiting here?”

“Of course.”

He says this as if it’s obvious. She thinks of earlier that day, when he had said something similar and she had returned to find him gone. “Just try not to kill anyone.”

Zack’s eye twitches. “For fuck’s sake, just get out of here already!” Rachel nods, taking that as the only amount of confirmation she’ll receive, then starts her walk towards the commercial district.

As she leaves the darkness behind, following the trail of neon lights towards her destination, Rachel slips her hands into her pockets to grasp the money she’d collected earlier in the day. She sighs as the warmth from her body thaws her frozen fingers, merging with pedestrian traffic easily, as if it were normal.

The warm summer air had long since left, and it was clear that autumn was fast approaching. Rachel rubs the sleep out of her eyes as she stifles a yawn, her body conveniently reminding her how little sleep she got the previous night. Her boots scrape against the concrete as she walks, too tired to do anything more than shuffle them along the ground. As she nears the shopping centers and restaurants, her stomach begins to ache in her hunger, and she figures it’s good that Zack complained about it so much or else she would probably just ignore the uncomfortable feeling.

The street traffic is louder here, busier; she crosses the road, eyeing shop windows and towering billboards as she considers her options. A gas station about 2 blocks up is the first thing that catches her attention, but she’s terribly tired of chips and soda, probably because it’s all Zack ever asks for. He probably doesn’t even think about having more variety in his diet, and while Rachel would like to toss the thought aside, she can’t help but believe in his own stubborn tendencies a little bit.

In her thoughts, she nearly runs straight into someone exiting a building. He doesn’t even look up from his phone or bother to stop, calling out a quiet, automatic apology as he continues on his way. She looks to where he had come from, and finds herself at the front door of a fast-food restaurant. She barely has to consider the idea of hot food before her mind is made up for her, and she makes her way through the sliding doors without further pause to make her order.

By the time she leaves, large to-go bag in hand and significantly hungrier than when she’d entered, a clear blanket of fog has settled over the quieting streets. Though it’s nowhere close to midnight, the sky is clearly dark and overcast. Rachel worries even more about the rain, sure that they won’t be able to escape it tonight.

There’s no way they’ll make it back to that warehouse before the downpour, but she hopes to at least find an awning to take shelter under after they meet up. She starts to hurry back in the direction she left Zack, but stops short at a particular neon sign that catches her gaze from across the road. The little red letters read ‘VACANCY’ in all caps, and once again has Rachel comparing options.

There’s the obvious issue of them being discovered in such a conspicuous place; it’s the entire reason that Rachel has avoided bringing up the possibility of checking in to a motel to Zack in the first place. On the other hand, she hates the idea of having to stay outside in the rain all night.

Rachel shifts her weight from one leg to the other as she thinks. She really wants to get back to Zack so they can eat, and she’s certain that he’s long since started his impatient pacing. She remembers her musings from the night before, her memories of when she’d seen his room and wondered if Zack had ever had the luxury of comfort. Whether he cared or not, she selfishly wanted to share these experiences with him, and this thought drove her to take the risk.

A strong floral scent escapes out the office’s door as she enters. It’s not hard to pinpoint it’s source–there’s a bright red candle on a little table by the door and the flame flickers as Rachel lets in a breath of night air. From there her eyes wander to the magazine rack and fake plants decorating the interior, to the single old chair with its slightly-ripped upholstery, before making their way to the reception counter in the back and the person behind it. The woman sitting there had barely looked up when she entered, too immersed in whatever she’s doing on her phone.

Rachel heads to the desk, getting straight to the point. “I’d like a room.”

The phone is placed on the counter slowly, screen-side up, showing the pause menu of some rainbow-colored game, and the lady looks at her with a bored expression while she wakes her computer back up. “Single or double?”

She hadn’t ever gotten a room before, so all she could say is, “...What?”

There’s a heavy sigh from the other side of the desk. The receptionist noticeably rolls her eyes, but Rachel doesn’t particularly care about her attitude as long as she gets what she came for. “The beds. One or two?”

Oh. She supposes that makes sense. “Two, definitely.”

Maybe it was something in her words or her voice, for the receptionist snorts at her response, her mouth turning up in amusement. “Nervous about spending the night with your boyfriend or somethin’?”

Briefly and nearly unperceivably, her eyes shine with confusion as her brain works to understand what she’s talking about, before realizing what this motel was probably used for and scrunching up her nose at the image it produced. “Not really.” She’s not expecting the receptionist to believe her, but then again she really doesn’t care.

“Whatever,” is her bland response, and it’s clear that they’re both done with the conversation at this point. Rachel shuffles her take-out bag around so that she can sort out the right amount of cash, handing it over in exchange for a keycard which she quickly pockets. As she leaves, she voices out a quick goodbye despite the clear indication that the receptionist had already gotten back to ignoring everything except her game.

She makes it back to Zack just as the first drops of rain begin to fall. Surprisingly, he’s waiting right where she had left him, pacing just as she’d guessed. He’s scowling at the ground as he moves, brows pinched and resolutely frowning; he looks unusually restless, though she has no clue why he would be, considering.

His head snaps up the moment he hears her footsteps thumping against the hard concrete. Her hair and clothes collect the rain, soaking them up as the drops begins to fall a little harder.

“What the hell took you so long? I thought you’d gone off and died on me.” He shouts, making his way to her side quickly.

“I wouldn’t. We promised after all,” is her obvious response.

“Yeah, yeah,” he looks her over once, trailing off as he notices her hands are empty. His obvious curiosity completely overrides everything else beyond his hunger. “Where’s the food?”

“I found a dry place to stay, I left the food there so it wouldn’t get soggy.”

He places a bandaged hand on her head, ruffling her hair into a complete mess. She doesn’t see him grin from beyond the blonde curtain over her eyes. “Let’s get going then, you took forever and now I’m starving.” He complains as they start forward. Despite his order to hurry, he doesn’t move to increase his pace, content to walk together.

As they make their way through the dark alleyways, Zack looks at Rachel curiously, wondering what she’s got planned. She walks with her typical calm beside him, though she moves a little faster than normal, probably to get out of the rain. They stick to the darkness as far as they can, before stopping.

“It’s not much further, but we’ll have to be careful that we don’t get spotted.” She looks out towards the main road as she says this, clearly calculating their next move.

“You know I can just kill anyone who recognizes me.” He grins at her as she looks at him with her expressionless eyes.

“Please don’t.” Zack just shrugs, used to her simple responses ruining all his fun.

As they sneak their way to the building, Zack’s curiosity spikes, his brows knitting together as he tries to figure out what is happening. They come in through the back to avoid the reception desk; he looks at a large sign covered in thick squiggles, unable to decipher it’s meaning but assuming it’s the building’s title. They near a door, both taking shelter under the awning as Rachel fiddles around in front of it. He watches her take a card out of her pocket with intrigue, leaning over her to watch as she slides it into a slot on the door and pushes her way inside.

As the lights flicker on and illuminate the dark room, Zack’s eyes widen and his jaw drops, his mind blanking completely for a moment.

Two beds take up most of the space, neatly made. Beside them are some tables with lamps on them, and in the back of the room is another door and a beat-up old armchair. Next to that chair is a small desk, an innocent paper bag sitting on top.

“You got us a house?” He states incredulously, oddly stuck between wonder and confusion.

“What? No. It’s a motel.” She looks at the adorably childish excitement in his eyes as he takes in the space. “I’m guessing you’ve never been in one?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” He points out his bandaged face, one eyebrow raising as he looks at her. She imagines Zack trying to check out a room, her mind supplying her with a detailed picture of the terrified receptionist’s face as Zack enters the office, and agrees with his unspoken assessment.

“Of course I haven’t,” He concludes, before rushing over to the bed, throwing himself onto the mattress face-down. “Tits on christ. Is this heaven?”

She actually snorts at that, covering her mouth to hide her quiet laughter. He peeks at her from where his face is buried in the sheets, watching her walk over to the bag of food he’d nearly forgotten. His mouth waters.

“What did you even get?” he wonders aloud.

“Burgers from a restaurant. There’s fries too, they should still be warm.” By mid-sentence, he’s already up and heading towards her. He slings his arm over her shoulders as she pulls out the food, pulling her against his side as he grins at her at her in thanks. Their half-hug is a little soggy, with both of them being soaked from the rain, but Rachel figures she can withstand her discomfort for a minute.

They sit on the end of one of the beds and eat quickly, both too hungry to really savor the rare meal.

“We should probably leave town soon.” She states when they’ve both filled their stomachs, flopping back against the mattress, tired and sated.

He turns his head to look at her from where he’s seated beside her, considering. “Yeah, we’ll figure out how to get out of here in the morning.”

“We can still use this opportunity to shower while we have the hot water, though.” She states, motioning over to the bathroom door in the back corner of the room.

He sits up straighter, glancing between her and the door with wide eyes. “There’s hot water too? For fuck’s sake how fancy is this place?” He’s already up and heading towards the door Rachel had pointed out.

“I’m getting in first!” he states, rather unnecessarily since he’s already halfway into the bathroom, before closing the door behind him.

She relaxes against the mattress, enjoying the small bit of comfort. They had been on the run for three weeks, and while they had reaffirmed their promise at her window before their escape, she didn’t necessarily feel the need to convince him to do it right at this moment. She actually enjoyed their time together, and it seemed like Zack did too, so for now she was content to just spend her remaining time travelling with him.

“Ah shit fuck, that’s really cold!” She hears him swear from beyond the door. She stands up, knowing that she’s dangerously close to falling asleep lying on that mattress, and grabs her shoulder bag off the desk. In it are unopened rolls of clean bandages, which she tosses onto Zack’s bed before rifling around for a book she had snagged from a grocery store last week.

She leans against the desk, reading in an attempt to push away the tired haze until she hears the water turn off some time later.

The sound of the door opening draws her eyes automatically.  Steam rolls out in thick clouds as it’s released from the confined space of the bathroom. Zack follows soon after, fully dressed with one of the hotel towels draped over his head as he scrubs at his wet hair, obscuring his face from her view.

About the point that Rachel’s thoughts begin to consider the contrast between the white fabric and his darker skin is when she realizes she had been unconsciously trying to sneak a peek. Knowing how uncomfortable he is about the subject, she politely turns away.

They pass each other as she heads to take a shower herself. “I put the bandages on your bed.” She tells him before shutting the door behind her.

Standing under a stream of hot water helps to wash away the aches that had formed from sleeping on a hard floor last night. She quickly scrubs away the dirt, enjoying the shower but also eager to sleep on an actual bed. When she’s finished and dry, she puts just her shirt and shorts back on, cringing as she has to slip the obviously dirty cloth back over her clean skin, and makes a mental note to get them each a spare set so that these ones can be properly washed.

The light of the bathroom illuminates the dark room enough for Rachel to see that Zack has already passed out, face down on his bed. He’s re-wrapped the parts of his skin that she can see, but obviously hadn’t done anything else before falling asleep, not even get underneath the blankets.

Her sigh is secretly fond as she walks around her bed towards his and attempts to tug the blankets out from under him. He groans a little in annoyance, but she’s eventually successful. With the task complete, she turns off all the lights and heads to her own bed, practically collapsing on it in her exhaustion.

Rachel snuggles into soft pillows and crisp blankets, content and warm. She looks at Zack from across the gap between them and her chest fills with warmth when she thinks about how excited he’d been at their little vacation from normalcy. She’s just glad that she can still be useful despite her inexperience with the situation. She hopes that they can have more nights like this, comfortable and safe and together.

This time, she has no trouble finding sleep.

#satsuriku no tenshi #alys fics #zackray #kinda platonic but meant in an eventually not kinda way if that makes sense #angels of death

[valasania-the-pale]

The Last Rose - Chapter Two

Thank you to all of you who read the last chapter! Please enjoy chapter two :)

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY, I’m just playing in the sandbox.

X_0_X

“You want to know what I’m afraid of, kiddo?” Her uncle softly blew out his flaming marshmallow before he answered her. Ruby wondered why his breath didn’t catch fire like before. “I’ll tell you what it is: it’s the same thing that every real huntsman or huntress will tell you they fear…”

She waited a few seconds; they were an eternity to her young mind.

“…Well?! Don’t be mean, Uncle Qrow! What is it?”

He barked a laugh. “It’s… That moment. The one where you realize that your luck has turned on you. The moment when things have gone to shit, the tide has turned, and the hunter has become the prey. It can happen on any mission, at any time, against any kind of enemy, and all huntsmen are guaranteed to have it happen at least once in their lives.”

Ruby nearly dropped her s’more, she was so bewildered. “Whaaa - But you’re all hoowah! and witchaa! and super cool with Harbinger and all! What could ever beat you?”

“Heh.” Qrow let his eyes close and a shadow passed over his face. Ruby frowned. “You’d be surprised. Even badasses like me get tired and distracted, even though we try not to make a habit out of it.”

Ruby tilted her head to the side. “Hmm. I think you’re just making excuses for getting old!”

“Hey!”

…

Of course, I later learned that in this, as with a lot of things, Uncle Qrow was telling the truth. I’m afraid of a lot of things, and I think he was too. But every huntsman will experience this fear at some point in their careers.

Suffice to say, I survived. Not everyone does.

Obviously.

X_0_X

A gentle rain pattered on the hull of the bullhead. It was a soothing counterpoint to the constant hum of the engines and pulsing sonar.

‘…known to encircle their prey before closing in with their pincers to crush armor and/or tear flesh. Collective intelligence estimated to be mid-to-low; they are known to leave carcasses desecrated in easily spotted locations, but only display rudimentary tactical abilities. Likely gained experience attacking smaller villages (See page 6 for details), but have yet to move beyond their preferred methods of psychological warfare…’

Ruby perused the detailed reports on her target, provided by various village scouts from southern Anima.

It was impressively comprehensive. While huntsmen were relied upon for most of the actual killing, many villages fielded small fighting forces that specialized in reconnaissance and ambush tactics in addition to their defensive garrisons. They would either provide huntsmen with the best information possible for their assignments, or they would take care of what they could through subterfuge and surprise.

It made jobs like this much simpler to prepare for. Instead of spending a week in the field simply tracking her target and getting a feel for their abilities, she started with relatively-fresh information on their location, preferred haunts, and the threat they posed.

Assuming the Grimm didn’t play up their habits for an advantage. Or change tactics abruptly when faced with a greater threat. Some of the craftier few had been known to take advantage of their species’ reputation for predictability.

‘…greatest threat is posed to Horikiri. Our village is well defended by the sheer cliffs on our eastern and western flanks, but cannot stand against a concentrated force for long, and we have few options for our outlying farms…’

The village was desperate, having already lost a family of five on the outskirts and two guards sent to repel another attack closer to the wall fencing them in. Ruby scowled, sorely regretting the delay in information. How many more had died since the report was sent?

‘…They are emboldened by their numbers. We have repelled their probes for several weeks, but the situation has quickly grown from routine to untenable…’

Ruby read through the last few pages, flicking back to review a few entries before she closed the report, tucking her scroll away in one of the many pouches on the belt of her huntress’ garb.

Defined by dark reds and blacks, her preferred style had changed little from her days at Beacon and the years following its fall. It would have been an insult to Crescent Rose if she shifted her look toward something that didn’t complement its menacing visage.

Her red cloak, worn, tattered, and given to her so long ago, rested comfortably across her shoulders, hood down to reveal the long braid she’d cultivated. Streaked red, her obsidian locks had been twisted into an efficient braid, pulled over her shoulder to rest on her chest.

Long hair had never been her ‘thing,’ but after so long living with it she’d come to appreciate it. The braid was a concession to how much it got in the way left loose; she’d never understood how her sis-

Locks shining gold like the sun flared behind a sun-streaked face, eyes burning RED in fury, sparking flames dancing amidst the curls, hands clenched in fists rose in readiness for combat, craving fire, blood, and PAIN.

Thump.

Ruby shied away from the line of thought furiously. She liked her hair the way it was. That was it. There was nothing else. She had an assignment to complete.

Suddenly craving comfort, Ruby pulled Crescent Rose closer to her, letting the familiar sound of sliding metal fill her ears as her baby unfolded itself into its fearsome scythe form.

Her fingers stroked across the cool metal, tracing all of the nicks and scars that covered her pride and joy; that made the work of art what it was. She could never bring herself to paint over the imperfections streaking it. It would be a lie, covering up the suffering it had gone through over all the years she and it had danced together. Her only concession had been to mend the gouges and dents that threatened to restrict the scythe’s transformation sequence if left alone.

Ruby ran her eyes along Crescent Rose’s length, seeking any of those flaws, fingers no longer affectionate but instead moving over the scythe’s length in search of the imperfections that would put them both in danger.

There were none, of course. Crescent Rose was maintained by her careful hands, after all. Not a day went by that she didn’t go over it, taking it slowly apart to make sure the insides were all in order, and sharpening the blade with her trusty whetstone…

She tapped the transformation switch, satisfied by the examination, and set Crescent Rose to the side.

Her hand dropped to her waist, resting on the soft hilt of her other weapon.

Heron, she’d taken to calling it in absence of any knowledge of what its previous owner had named it. If she had named it at all.

Ruby unsheathed it with a flourish, spinning it in her hand and refamiliarizing herself with its heft and balance. Lacking a pommel, it was unlike Harbinger, Crocea Mors, or any other sword she’d known; instead its grip simply extended to the end of the sword, capped off by a simple metal piece that Ruby had had to add herself.

Beyond that had once extended a long, prehensile wire to control and manipulate the blade, relieving her of the need to hold it personally in the first place.

The blade was irregular, a ramrod straight spine edged in three places, forming two distinctly triangular shapes to deliver death and pain to its victims. The hilt, circular and irregular like everything that was associated with the sword, proudly displayed the Atlesian ‘standby’ symbol, standard for all of their products…

It once glowed a vivid electric green, pulsing in time with its owner’s aura. Now it was a subdued velvety red, dark and broody against the black plate.

Ruby ran her finger along the blade, mindful of the razor-sharp edge the metal never seemed to lose. In all the years she’d carried it, it had never required sharpening, being smelted from some rare Atlesian alloy too expensive for even most huntsmen to incorporate into their own weapons.

‘Heron’ was – historically – the name of an eccentric hermit and ancient genius, known to experiment with all sorts of things, including the first conceptual automata… It had seemed fitting.

There were no imperfections on the blade. No scars, no nicks, no dents. It was perfect, like it always was, untouchable. In that way, it too was irregular. Just like its owner.

She flicked the activation switch she’d had to add to its design, swapping it into its pistol form and back again, and sheathed it. Ruby then tucked her hands under her arms, keenly feeling their chill all of a sudden…

…

Breathe.

…

Slowly, her fists loosened, and the tension drained from her shoulders. Her spine lost the steel that kept it stiff, and her jaw unclenched.

Breathe.

The moment past, and lacking anything else to do, Ruby leaned back in her seat with a sigh and began to mentally review the many potential scenarios she might encounter on the assignment, as well as tactics she could use to counter them.

It was an effective distraction.

X_0_X

Ruby landed on her feet, knees bending to distribute the force of the drop, hours later.

Above her head, the airship had already begun to pull away from the forest canopy, the pilots wary for any signs of approaching Grimm – especially Nevermore. It wasn’t unknown for the most daring individuals to attack lonely transport flights when they thought they could get away with it.

Thankfully, there wasn’t any snow for her to sink into for her to worry about this far south. Grateful for the higher temperature, Ruby dropped her hands to her waist, running her fingers along her supplies and mentally checking off everything.

Map. Pouches. Scroll. Crescent Rose. Heron. Pocket-knife. Canteen. All check.

Shifting the weight of her pack of supplies and equipment on her shoulders, and tightening the strap across her waist, Ruby nodded to herself. Everything was in order.

Her eyes darted across the area, noting the faint traces of Grimm still left over from the scouts’ original report a month prior. Bark scraped away from several large, passing bodies. Broken undergrowth growing back, a sign of nature reclaiming what had been stamped into the mud. But no footprints.

Recalling the weather reports from over the last few weeks, Ruby shook her head. Those would have washed away with the rains. The front that she’d moved through on the journey would have been here mere days, if not hours before.

There was something else of note, however. The slightest prickle of sensation, playing at her instincts and just barely tangible. Her eyes darted around the clearing, noting the absence of animal life, taking in the silence.

She was being watched.

It was far too quiet, the expected sounds of life amidst so much wilderness were muted and far away. Possibly because of the bullhead?

Ruby frowned, considering what he could do with the observation… before she compartmentalized the feeling. As a huntress she had learned to trust her instincts, but she had also learned not to stress too much in similar situations. Whatever was watching her was, at least for the moment, not a threat, and her assignment could be time sensitive.

Shooting the clearing a last, wary look, she began following the Deathstalkers’ trail, setting a familiar brisk pace she knew she could maintain all day with only minimal rest.

Behind her, a long, dark shape withdrew into its hollow beneath the dense undergrowth.

X_0_X

Sun was a fucking hypocrite, and he knew it.

Around him he could hear the sounds of his teammates as they puttered around their small home in the residential district of Mistral. The scrape of Sage’s chair against the floor as he made to bring the dishes from his morning meal to the sink. The fond bickering he and Scarlet partook in as they pushed and competed for space at the sink.

Distractions. There were too many. Always were.

…Don’t lie.

Externally he could make all the excuses he wanted, but he knew it wasn’t the noise that kept him awake right then, when he’d promised Ruby he’d be catching up on lost sleep. No.

Worry gnawed him. It wrestled away any semblance of control he had over his rest and held it above his head like a schoolyard bully.

When he’d shambled across the threshold, that morning, still shivering from the cold morning air, Scarlet’d taken one look at him and demanded he go straight to bed. No ifs, no buts, just firm command in his eyes.

Masculine pride demanded that Sun protest. He should have mocked his teammate for acting like a mother hen and plopped down on the couch for some good ol’ television. He should have ignored the disapproving glare and proved the defiance in his soul.

Instead, Sun had numbly accepted his teammate’s demand, kicked off his damp boots, and collapsed onto his soft mattress, lights flicking off behind him as Scarlet shut the door with a lingering look.

He was bone-tired. Insomnia was a bitch.

It had been a fairly good week, too. He’d snatched a few hours of rest each and every night and made his way through the day with relative ease. It was downright pleasant being able to interact with his team like a normal person. The mood around the house had lifted so much it was almost a tangible brightness in the air.

Then he’d gone to sleep and dreamt of Neptune, blue hair, style, cool-dude embodied. His brother in arms. His partner.

Gone.

Waking up with a panic attack was nothing new to him; it happened with depressing regularity, the short pulse-pounding episodes sending him to his feet to pace and massage his chest, desperately going through the motions of the breathing techniques that Ruby had coached him through dozens of times before, as he had with her.

She wasn’t there, this last time, either to get him through it or bring him down afterwards. It’d been Scarlet to find him on the couch in the morning, staring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes and a deep frown on his face.

His expression? Empathetic. It always was. And he’d done everything he could to make Sun comfortable, which Sun appreciated. But it always lacked that final step of understanding he could find with Ruby...  

Scarlet tried. Sage too. But they didn’t have the same problems with moving on that Sun and Ruby and gods-know-how-many-others dealt with. They were lucky like that. They knew what it was like, but they didn’t understand.

Sun shifted under his sheets, trying to find a new spot of coolness against his skin, to press the soles of his feet against. He was warm again – too warm. Outside, someone dropped a utensil. It clattered loudly, metallic against the granite countertop.

Ruby understood. Too well. Sun wished she didn’t.

Ruby was pure. She was good and kind and brave. And as her friend, Sun knew she also suffered far more than he did without her team beside her to support her through her mourning. They added to it instead.

He didn’t envy her. At his worst, he could barely stand the thought of his partner, but he knew that even at her best Ruby avoided those memories.

Just like Scarlet and Sage, he didn’t understand. He knew enough, just like she knew enough about his struggle, but it was never enough. He wasn’t the one she needed.

The only three with any hope of filling that role were lost to some Atlesian battlefield; the Valean memorial honoring every huntsman and fallen civilian from the conflict immortalizing their memory for everyone except the one who needed it the most.

He lifted his hands to rub at his eyes. They were so dry it felt like he was in Vacuo again, wiping away grit and dust and craving clean water. But just for his eyes. Every other part of him was either too hot or too cold. Never comfortable.

The bed creaked below him as he rolled over, jostling for some comfort.

He was a hypocrite. A fucking hypocrite, at that. He knew that he had drawn a promise from Ruby to get some sleep, to be safe, to come back home in one piece please, and he couldn’t do this one thing right when she asked him.

Useless.

Sun growled, frustrated, and rolled over again. Scarlet and Sage chatted outside – preparing to go out shopping for their assignment tomorrow.

He needed to fucking sleep, Dust damn it!

He was worried about Ruby. He knew he’d worked himself up to it last night, while Ruby had forced herself to get the sleep she needed for the day. In lieu of any real ability to rest himself, he’d tormented himself with the image of his friend alone in the forest, surrounded by Grimm. She was so strong, so talented, but there would always be a mistake. A misplaced foot, or perhaps the Grimm would have some crafty trick to pull, always something that would take her by surprise.

Red – not like roses, but scarlet like blood and all-too-prominent in those ghastly visions – and Sun would soon be on his feet, pacing away his anxiety. He’d work himself down, pull the sheets back over him and tuck his head between his pillows hoping that the wind would die down and give him some peace, but when that would fail he’d be at it again and the cycle would repeat itself, eating him alive.

If this had been years ago, before the Fall and the events that followed that would rip everything away from him (not Scarlet, not Sage, not Ruby, he reminded himself), Sun knew that Neptune would have been there to help him through the nights.

His partner would be there for him like he would be there for his partner. They were the best of friends, the closest of duos, complementing each other’s style and personality. The dream team could never die, nor succumb to weakness like this.

Except it had.

One half died, the other succumbed.

Weak.

‘Stop it man,’ Sun scolded himself suddenly, furious that he’d let his thoughts start down that road. ‘You’re better than this.’

The door outside opened and closed. Sun could hear his teammates’ conversation fade away beyond even his faunus-enhanced hearing, leaving him with the creak of the walls and the wind whirling by outside.

Sun squeezed his eyes shut. He was so tired…

Ruby…

‘You guys are all keeping an eye on her, right?’ he thought suddenly, willing his thoughts to reach the three people he knew were most likely to hear them. ‘Keep her safe, will you? So I don’t need to worry so much.’

Eyes opening to slits for a moment, he waited for an answer.

Nothing.

Of course, Sun sighed. Rolling again, he tried to make himself comfortable, hoping that his prayer would be heard.

X_0_X

The smoke led her here.

It could be smelled for miles, its presence sending spikes of worry up Ruby’s spine as she peered through Crescent Rose’s scope at the pack of Deathstalkers below. Their condition was hardly comforting.

Broken armor, shattered bones, reduced to six instead of the thirteen she’d been aware of, and nursing open wounds that bled the scarlet tar that passed for blood in Grimm. The pack was in shambles, and to someone of her experience it was obvious what had brought them so low. No huntsman could recreate the unrestricted savagery of some of the injuries she saw.

Her job had become much more complex, as it always did when Grimm got territorial with each other.

Such things were rare, since Grimm were usually more than happy to give each other the space they needed to survive. When it came to humans, however, they became unpredictable and deadly.

When they detected vulnerability, they might be found working together to overcome whatever defenses they encountered – prioritizing their lust for human suffering over whatever animal rivalries they held. But old, powerful Grimm were greedy. When they knew they could take a settlement alone, they would be vicious in their reprisal against interlopers, each violently protective of their kills.

Whatever ancient horror lashed out at this pack was powerful, and that boded very poorly for Horikiri and its people.

Which meant she had to be quick.

Crack!

Crescent Rose barked. The leader of the pack dropped to the ground instantly, skull beneath the bony shell of its head turning to a fine red paste as the dust round met its mark.

Utter silence fell for a split second as the remaining Grimm turned as one to look at their leader as it began to dissolve into black mist.

Crack!

Behind the jaw, in the chink where it its head flowed into the torso. The second Grimm sank to the ground and the remaining four spun to face Ruby in her perch, malevolent crimson eyes locking onto her with disturbing intensity.

Crack! Crack!

The third skidded on the ground as the two rounds pierced the two largest eyes, bypassing the plate guarding the rest of its head entirely. The surviving Deathstalkers were nearly on her position by then, however, so Ruby lowered Crescent Rose and tensed her legs for impact.

Crash-Snap!

The tree buckled beneath her. Ruby leapt, the world around her tinging scarlet as she blurred forward with her semblance. Everything slowed as she brought Crescent Rose around, twisting her body to take aim.

Crack!

Not a killing blow. The shot crippled the laggard of the group, thick blood erupting from the hole she’d punched into root of the only leg it wasn’t treating gingerly on its left side. The massive beast staggered, its weight suddenly too much to hold with the crippled limbs.

Crack!

Ruby landed in a deep crouch, knees bending to distribute the force of her fall, hastened by her shot’s recoil. Effortlessly, her finger tapped the transformation switch as she blurred forward, Crescent Rose unfolding into its full glory just as she came out of her semblance in a magnificent slide underneath its carapace. She drove the point of the blade into the Deathstalker’s softer underbelly, relishing in the agonized shriek she drew before it suddenly died, dissolving above her.

Slide right.

Crack!

Her feet skidded as another Grimm charged her former position, far too slow.

Forward!

The world blurred. She let her weight drop, the hardened, sun-dried earth of the clearing the perfect surface for her to repeat the tactic, sliding underneath and ripping open flesh with her baby.

The fifth Grimm died with a pathetic gurgle.

She pushed off with a hand on the ground, throwing her weight forward and distributing the momentum into a somersault. Ruby grinned viciously, blood pumping and adrenaline spiking high and natural for once as she finished on her feet, Crescent Rose glinting dangerously in the light behind her.

She felt alive, confident, deadly. Just like she was meant to be.

The single remaining Deathstalker held its distance warily, spitting at her in high-pitched whines and shrieks. This one obviously wasn’t stupid; it knew her now, having watched her pick apart its entire pack in mere seconds.

Her grin widened, all teeth. That just made it more fun.

Seconds passed, tense, all sound absent from their surroundings save for those made by the two combatants.

By some unspoken signal, the Deathstalker reared back and charged, deceptively quick on its short legs with its incredible bulk. Ruby’s grip tightened on Crescent Rose as she prepared to throw herself underneath it once more.

She moved.

Something grabbed her legs and she stumbled.

Her eyes widened in bewilderment as her center of balance disappeared, sending her crashing to the ground.  

Thump.

Time slowed, and her eyes darted to her feet, breath hitching.

‘The hell?’

Two dark and resinous vines anchored her in place. They were absolutely covered in pulsing, sickly black veins, utterly anathema to the otherwise plantlike appearance.

Thump.

Time slowed, her perceptions shrinking until the space between heartbeats passed like minutes. The Deathstalker was far too close, seconds from being on her. Ruby twisted, painfully slow, impossibly fast, bringing Crescent Rose down on the tendrils, freeing one leg.

Thump.

The vines flailed wildly, withdrawing into the ground with unnatural haste. She pulled Crescent Rose up for the others. Too late.

Thump.

Her breath left her as the Deathstalker’s vice-like claws closed around her chest, her scarlet aura flaring into visibility as it strained to protect her from being vivisected. It lifted her into the air, for a brief moment nearly ripping her leg out by the root as the tendrils held firm.

Then they loosened, purpose apparently accomplished. Ruby didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Thump.

She dropped Crescent Rose, her weapon useless to her in such confined quarters. Ruby could feel her heart pumping wildly in her chest, every single nerve in her body alive with sensation – Pain!

Thump.

She wrapped her fingers around Heron, gripping the hilt like a lifeline.

Thump.

Her aura strained. She felt the fatigue setting in as it sapped the strength from her limbs to sustain itself. She drew her sword with all the haste she could muster.

Thump.

Twisting the blade around, Ruby maneuvered it to face the vulnerable chink in the Deathstalker’s armored pincer: the intersection of the two claws where the tendons that strained so hard to kill her were located, just as she’d been told in Grimm Studies.

The monster shrieked.

Thu-ump.

Ruby dropped to the ground, sucking in a deep breath as the Deathstalker reared back in agony, her former prison hanging uselessly open. The slit tendons smoked and bled, oily scarlet mixing with acrid black dust.

‘Thank you, Professor Port,’ she briefly thought, quickly running through her options.

She didn’t have the time to reclaim Crescent Rose. It was too close to the Deathstalker. No matter. Heron was more than enough. It would be wary, what would…? Yes. That would work.

Readjusting her grip on Heron, Ruby tensed her legs, eyes darting between her feet and the Grimm. She wouldn’t fall to the same deception twice.

She charged.

The Grimm’s other claw thrust at her. She dove, somersaulting below the massive appendage, coming up between it and the monster’s face. Ruby thrust Heron into a crimson eye, heedless of the champing mandibles below her elbow. Her teeth ground together as metal scraped rudely against bone.

The Deathstalker screamed.

She twisted Heron, feeling bone crack and the sickening sound of tearing meat.

The Grimm reared up on its back legs. Ruby yanked Heron back before it could be ripped away from her as her foe swung its head back and forth, spitting as agony overwhelmed its every sense. Its massive body twitched at random intervals, claws pounding at the air as though it were boxing an unseen enemy.

For a few seconds, she watched the Grimm, breathing tight and controlled, and viewed the damage she’d caused. The rush of the fight still drummed through her veins.

Ruby clamped down on it, breathing deeply through her nose to soften her pulse. Her eyes fluttered shut, relishing the moment of triumph.

Then they snapped open, silver pools examining the thrashing beast critically, evaluating.

She had a job to finish. The smell of smoke was thicker in the air already. Now that she wasn’t focused on surviving to the next second it was impossible to ignore. Wood and oil, with a hint of Dust’s telltale acridity mixed in.

Ruby crossed the short distance to Crescent Rose, keeping a careful eye on the Deathstalker in case it made any unexpected moves.

It didn’t. She’d probably hit something important.

Heron went back into its sheath, her fingers lingering on the hilt a moment in thanks for her life. Crescent Rose clicked back into sniper form, rising to press into her shoulder. She leaned into the stock, cheek warm against the metal where they kissed.

Crack!

Ruby turned away from the disintegrating corpse, nose twitching in displeasure as the temporary but foul scent of decaying Grimm filled the clearing. She was more concerned about the smoke. It was growing thicker by the minute.

She felt dread growing within her, settling in her gut like a heavy stone.

Pausing only to check over her supplies, Ruby jogged over to where she’d left her bag. Map, bag, Scroll, weapons, canteen, pack. Everything was in order.

She tilted her head tilted back to look above the canopy. Blue skies as far as the eye could see, littered with fluffy white clouds. The retreating grey line in the distance was a mere memory of the bad weather that had run through here not so long ago.  

The simple beauty was marred by the rising column of darkness to the south. Ruby sighed, eyes squeezing shut for a moment, the stone growing heavier. Though it was only midmorning, the village was hours away by foot, as far south as one could go without crossing the mountains. She didn’t relish the idea of confronting the Grimm she’d find there in the dark, nor whatever sights would be there to greet her.

Nevertheless, Ruby shouldered her pack, tightening it against her body and ignoring the slight aches that came from her aura drawing on her body’s vitality. It would be a long, exhausting march.

And she knew what she would find at the end.

X_0_X

Twilight cloaked the land, but night had already fallen on Horikiri.

Ruby coughed harshly into her fist, arm raised against the plume of oily smoke blown into her face by the wind. The stuff was an omnipresent shadow, veiling everything in dust and darkness. She’d already passed several of the outlying farms mentioned in the reports, each a ruin of what they had once been.

The culprit was hardly subtle, not even bothering to mask its presence. Its massive footprints were impossible to miss – each a pit Ruby could have fit herself into, sunken deep into the soft loam of the fields.

Distantly, a part of her was grateful for the rains that had passed through the area. The moisture in the air as well as what had seeped into the ground and vegetation would go a long way to prevent the fires from spreading. Embers floated through the air, only to fizzle out and die as they drifted down to earth. They were fireflies, spots of beauty flitting through the ashes choking the village.

A simple beauty ignored.

Ruby felt empty. Hollow, like the burnt-out husks she’d passed that had once been homes.

Horikiri burned.

Though weaker than the conflagration that certainly consumed it hours before, the sheer cliffs of the ravine the village rested in at the head of the valley still danced with shadows, flickering orange, black, and red. Above the cackling flames she could hear something massive picking through the ruins, shifting rubble and splintered wood.

Corpses lined the path to the wall, black and desiccated. Ruby had no idea what possible reason the Grimm could have for defiling them so save for intimidation and the satisfaction of making every last moment as excruciating as possible.

If that was its goal, it was successful. Their shriveled visages, twisted in their final expressions of fear, terror, and despair were soul-crushing.

Crescent Rose was a quiet counterpoint to the sounds tormenting her ears, the familiar sliding metal and clicks comforting as she absently shifted it back and forth through its weapon modes.

Her hands clenched the snath tightly, her knuckles white and shaking. The dry air gently caressed her cheeks, but she could feel the wetness gather there in shining streams, silver pools locked on the blackened faces. Was this all that these people felt, before the end?

She felt sick, but it was growing fainter, her emotions draining away more with each and every corpse she passed after leaving the tree line on the village outskirts. Here, looking upon the broken ruins, there was no anger, no fury, no sorrow or chilled horror. Not anymore. Just the remains welding together into fierce resolve.

She was too late.

Again.

But she would avenge these people on their murderer.

Ruby moved with haste, leaving her bag where she would be able to easily retrieve it on her return. Her steps crunched on the gravel, soft ashes not yet thick enough to obscure the sound. She struggled to avoid inhaling a lungful of ash and smoke as they thickened around their source.

She stopped a few feet beyond the wall, staring through the gaping hole that had been ripped in it, wide enough that ten of her could walk through shoulder-to-shoulder. The crushed remnants of the structure were strewn about like toy blocks.

Somewhere within, a house collapsed, sending soot and embers flying.

Ruby shielded her mouth with her shirt and sucked in a deep breath of air as her lungs began to burn. It wasn’t enough, and she hunched over to hack and cough violently. The smoke was too thick to breathe, much less fight in…

Wincing, her mind turned over possibilities, discarding most of them. She didn’t have the material to craft anything on the fly, and there was no guarantee the monster inside the walls would stay in one place if it sensed her.

A solution popped into her brain suddenly, though she winced at the implications for her should the fight go poorly…

Fuck it. She needed to hurry.

Ruby closed her eyes, concentrated her aura upwards, toward her face. Years of training allowed her to mold her soul’s essence into tangible form, creating a barrier, different from those she’d used most often to protect herself.

Those shields were meant to protect her body; keep it safe when other weapons or trauma would otherwise incapacitate her. She didn’t want that – instead she molded it into a filter, permitting clean air through while blocking out the smoke and other debris.

Red light glinted in her lower peripheral vision. Her aura resembled the gauzy, scarlet veils of those Vacuoan dancers Sun had once shown her pictures of, fabric fluttering silently on a nonexistent breeze.

She smiled weakly at the thought.

At least she could breathe now. It was a start.

A scream pierced the air, high and hoarse and terrified. Ruby tensed, one leg already lifting up to carry her over the wall’s fractured foundation, but the sound died as suddenly as it started, accompanied by a violent crash. A low growl of satisfaction took its place, so heavy in the air Ruby could feel the immense size of the creature that created it.

She cursed bitterly and vaulted over the remains of the wall, marching into the ruins.

The village hadn’t been very large, probably only housing a population of a few hundred. Most of the buildings were single-story, made from wood cut from the nearby forest and designed after the dominant Mistrallan style like most buildings in Anima.

Most of them were now in flames, crumbling into themselves or already pulverized by an incredible force. It was a harrowing backdrop, but it had nothing on the dark shape picking through the ruins of the village’s inn. As she stepped into the large courtyard making up the center of the settlement, Ruby faced the shadow.

It was colossal, bulkier than any Nevermore or Goliath she’d ever encountered. It lumbered on four legs like a Berengal but towered over the buildings around it.

Its legs were built like tree-trunks; thick, rounded, and crushingly powerful. Protrusions at the ends only emphasized the comparison, looking like stubby, gnarled roots.

Its body was a mass of muscle and dense, bone-white plate armor, protecting the major areas of its body. Ruby’s stomach sank at the sight – the only Grimm with armor so thick and well-developed were Ancients, those few individuals given centuries to grow and fortify their patience with experience and ever-increasing intelligence.

It had little armor on its back. Instead, huge gnarled growths added an additional meter of height, dragging with them lichens and moss that pulsed black with Grimm corruption. More of the same dangled below the plate covering its face, like a thick and unkempt beard.

It was a Marsh Colossus.

Best known to spawn in northwestern Anima, they seldom grew to this size. They lived stationary lives in swamps, bogs, and marshes, drawing nutrients and strength from their environment and only attacking when humans chose to settle near their territory. Their sedentary nature made them easy targets for huntsmen; every few years there would be a flurry of culling assignments tasking them to fill quotas of Marsh Colossi before any could develop to such immense proportions.

That one was here, hundreds of miles from its preferred habitat, and in such a developed state... It must have been either lucky or clever enough to avoid the extermination teams throughout the centuries. Or never had to worry in the first place – there was a fair chance it might be older than the kingdom itself.

Regardless, it was a foe to be feared.

As if sensing her trepidation, the Colossus lifted its immense head to look at her. The growths framing the bony slab of armor protecting its face looked like an eerie mix of antlers and tree branches. Its crimson eyes bored into her, mixed curiosity and cold hatred, but it made no sound.

Marsh Colossi were notoriously silent, only breaking it when they inevitably moved, or when they wished to announce themselves. Absent-minded passerby could easily find their messy demise by walking past a colossus without realizing it, mistaking them for the dark trees around them.

Behind her, a roof caved in with a loud crash, the fires too much for it.

Her mind evaluated her chances furiously.

There was nothing she could do to kill this Grimm in one blow. Crescent Rose was made for smaller Grimm; for reaping the lives of the fodder that thrived upon Remnant. She had options to inflict terrible harm upon anything, of course, but on her own they were limited. And that was no guarantee that it would kill something this big.

The beast began moving out of the ruins of the inn, absently brushing by the bar and smashing it into splinters. Her eyes darted around the square.

Corpses littered the ground, blackened after being consumed by the Colossus. They were known to draw nutrients from their victims just like they did with their environment. She’d never seen pictures of such a thing in school – she wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or not – and hadn’t recognized it for what it was.

Now she knew.

Driven through the cobblestones that formed the streets were dark, organic growths like those she’d seen earlier. They moved seemingly without direction, lacking a physical connection to the Grimm. Colossi were known to draw strength from the ground, similar to trees and fungi with their extensive root systems, but she had never read up on how, nor the extent of those abilities. She would have to be wary; if it had time to prepare the battlefield then nowhere would be safe for her.

How far did this thing’s reach spread anyways?

Ruby lowered Crescent Rose, holding it perpendicular to her body as the Colossus stepped into the square, going eerily still. Its eyes moved ceaselessly, examining her, calculating, intelligent. Silver eyes returned the look with equal intensity, measuring her opponent.

She couldn’t fell it with a single blow, but there were ways around that. She’d bled opponents before. Her reserves were low, but she was confident in her abilities to outmaneuver the hulking beast.

She made the first move. The world blurred around her, tinting scarlet as she swung Crescent Rose at the thick forelegs of the Grimm - Right, Left - scoring two deep wounds as she came out of her semblance on its side.

Slash up!

The Colossus rumbled, like an aging tree amidst a windstorm, and swatted at her with alarming speed. Ruby ducked the blow, sweeping Crescent Rose above her and drawing blood once more. The rumble grew, more like an avalanche in its intensity now. She was forced far away as it slammed its forelegs into the ground, creating a shockwave.

The force of the blow shook the earth beneath her, two new craters forming where it stove through the cobblestone.

Ruby eyed her work and blanched.

Save for three miniscule scars to mark their locations, the wounds had already healed over. It had only been seconds! No Grimm she had ever seen or heard of had regenerative capabilities of that level.

Back!

Ruby leapt away from the next strike and tapped into her speed, the world blurring around her as she ducked and wove around each and every attack the Colossus made. Crescent Rose sang its mournful dirge as it bit into limbs and cut between chinks and cracks in the otherwise impenetrable armor.

It became a dance. The beast would attack, she would counter or leap out of the way and score yet another superficial wound. It would heal, and they would repeat the process. All the while, crimson eyes bore into her with contempt and fury.

Roll! Slash up! Right! Jab! Right! Slash across the body!

Her instincts guided her body while her mind worked; she needed a better plan if she would win… Ruby could feel her aura slowly draining away as she channeled it into her veil, her body, and her semblance. Eventually she would make a mistake and start taking damage and her reserves would truly start to evaporate. The Colossus, on the other hand, barely seemed winded.

Ruby rolled between its stomach, working the bolt on Crescent Rose as the blade came up against its leg.

Crack!

Her weapon bit deep into flesh, making the monster growl furiously, but then it stuck.

‘Shit!’

She flared her aura, using the burst of strength to rip Crescent out of the bone in a spray of thick, scarlet blood and flying Grimmflesh. Regaining her balance, she immediately sprinted away before it could take advantage of her proximity (she didn’t want to get stomped on!), but the lost time was more than enough for the beast to twist itself around to face her.

The beast rumbled and, abandoning its stationary tactics, charged, utterly unaffected by the small hurts she’d inflicted with her pitiful assault. Ruby made to duck to the side of the beast before it trampled her but was halted by a familiar presence suddenly snared legs, growing tighter by the second. Her eyes widened in fear.

‘Doubt-shit!’ Crescent Rose dipped down to her ankles, slashing through the tendrils.

The earth around her erupted in a sea of flying stone and vegetation as even more of the growths punched their way through the streets. Another slash and her other leg was freed, and she danced between the writhing tendrils as they reached for her limbs with poisonous intent.

The ground shook violently beneath her, the Colossus an unstoppable force glaring hate through its furious crimson eyes.

Don’t just stand there! Get away! UP!

Desperate, Ruby drove Crescent Rose’s barrel into the ground and pulled the trigger, pouring her aura into her body.

Crack!

The recoil, combined with her semblance, launched her away in a cloud of rose petals, high into the air.

It wasn’t enough.

A huge foreleg, black as a nightmare and plated with armor denser than stone reached up and swatted her out of the sky, sending her tumbling off to the side as the behemoth trampled over her previous position. Ruby’s entire world tilted for a moment, her aura flaring into visibility around her as she crashed through a wall.

She cried out on impact, pain quick to follow her landing. Her back slammed into something hard – several other heavy weights toppling onto her immediately after. The scarlet barrier she relied upon for survival flickered violently around her, her reserves of aura depleting itself to repair her damaged flesh and bones.

The house she’d landed in shook as the Colossus slammed into the ravine wall with a jaw-rattling boom. Several crashes followed; the building she’d stood in front of crumbling around the beast.

For a breathless moment, Ruby lay there, bones aching, and realized something chilling.

She had to get away.

As far away as possible.

It was a painful epiphany, but nonetheless true. Her soul was even now sapping the vitality from her body in a desperate effort to replace the losses from a single blow. In just a few minutes she’d be even more fatigued - and lacking her single greatest defense entirely should she take another hit.

If it didn’t simply kill her outright.

She had to get away and warn the rest of Mistral; put together a hunting party to track the Ancient down and kill it before it could move on and inflict itself on another helpless settlement.

Ruby doubted she could hurt it in her current state, even if she tried again and again. With more of its cards shown, it had too much control over the battlefield and it was too canny to fall for the same tricks more than once. It had nearly killed her already, to say nothing about whatever other abilities it likely had sequestered away.

Get up.

Rolling over, Ruby drove her fist into the floorboards, snarling as her knuckles bruised. Every ounce of her frustration went into the punch, the pain her penance for having to abandon her mission and the vengeance Horikiri deserved.

For now.

She would return.

Resolved, Ruby pushed herself to her feet, leaning heavily on Crescent Rose. Dozens of heavy ceramic tiles tumbled off of her, the remains of the roof caved in above her. She winced as even more pain made itself known. Her legs hurt like they’d been flayed…

Wait. Her face paled and she knelt down to examine the places where she’d been held down by the vines. Her dark stockings were sticky with the resinous substance she’d seen coating the vines. She roughly tore away the material and cringed at the sight of her ankles. Where the substance had seeped through the thin material, the skin was red and inflamed, in some places blackened and dead.

She hadn’t even noticed it from earlier – too consumed by her mission to separate the pain from the expected fatigue and strain of hiking for so long.

Careful to avoid touching any more of the stuff, Ruby pressed her fingers against her leg and found that the skin surrounding the substance was numb. It was only the worst affected areas where the pain was beginning to bloom.

That settled it. She needed to get away. It was already enough without adding poison on top of it all.

Chirp!

What? Ruby perked up.

Chirp!

She knew that sound.

Chirp!

The building on the other side of the courtyard, where the Colossus had ended its bull-rush toward her, disappeared in a flurry of smoke and embers as the creature swiped away what little remained. Its massive head tilted upwards to regard the airship that now filled the air with its call with hateful, wary eyes.

Ruby felt her heart lift on seeing the Bullhead. She could escape!

Then three shapes dropped from the craft, and that feeling vanished, replaced by bewilderment and dread. What were they doing? They didn’t seriously think they could fight it, did they?

Glass and splintered wood were shifted aside as the Colossus stepped back into the courtyard. It stilled then, statuesque and unnatural as darkness wisped off of its body.

Cringing as the action pulled at her inflamed skin, Ruby jogged toward the newcomers, taking in their appearance.

One, smaller than the rest and armed with a short sword and pistol, was obviously a Mistrallan pilot. She’d become well-acquainted with the distinct cut of their uniforms over the years she’d lived there. His aviator’s cap obscured his features from her, but she noted that he had a particularly sharp chin and his lips were pulled into a nervous frown.

His companions were huntsmen. One medium-height and stocky, the other built like a warrior of old, tall and broad-shouldered, with shining plate armor layered all over his upper body to complete the image.

She jogged over and Stocky offered his hand to her in greeting, eyes never leaving the Colossus. “Bai Long.”

Still bewildered, Ruby took the offered hand anyways, giving it a firm shake. His companion gave her a little wave. “Reed Bryce, we’re here from one of the villages up north. Saw the smoke after finishing up our mission and thought we should check it out.”

“Ruby Rose,” she answered tersely, nodding to the pilot. The man kept his silence. He was pale, like he might be sick at any moment. Who invited him?

“What’s the scoop on the Grimm?” Reed asked, smile undeterred by the menacing gaze aimed at them.

The Colossus was content to wait for them, apparently. Something in its bearing radiated smug contempt. Almost laziness, if one ignored the burning hate in its eyes. Complete certainty that it could – and would – kill them all in time, certainly. Ruby suspected that if they attempted to flee, they would be stopped anyways. Her allies would, at least.

Fine.

If these huntsmen wanted to put up a fight, then she would help them. If the Colossus wasn’t going to stop them from putting together a battle plan, all the better for their chances.

Just fine.

She took a breath, centering herself.

“It’s a Marsh Colossus. Ancient. It’s got a network of vines underground that it can use to grab you,” Ruby listed quickly, anything she could think of. “It’s big and dangerous, and it regenerates faster than I can hurt it. I was thinking about running before you showed up.”

Intending to run, but they didn’t need to know that.

Bai nodded. “We saw as much,” he said. He indicated a tiny metal contraption resting on Reed’s shoulder. A video probe. Many huntsmen used them to document their assignments. She hadn’t found a need to bring hers along this time – a mistake in hindsight. “You are okay after that hit?”

“Not really, but I can fight.”

“Excellent.” Bai drew a pair of long, curved daggers from his belt, pressing the hilts together to form a single continuous piece. With a series of metallic clicks, the piece became a bow, which he efficiently began to string. “I am a bowman, obviously. My semblance allows me to control air currents to enhance my shots, among other things.”

“I can charge up my strength if I get some time to concentrate,” Reed added, a heavy spear now held comfortably in his massive hands.

Ruby nodded, eyes flicking to the pilot briefly and receiving a hasty shake of the head in reply. He would have an aura, but no semblance, as was common with most pilots. Aura was too useful to go without unlocking when it could save a life in a crash, but semblances were rare to develop for anyone save huntsmen.

Apparently, their pilot ally wasn’t one of those precious few. Shame.

Ruby eyed Reed’s spear, mentally sifting through what strategies they could use. “How strong is your weapon, Reed?”

“Strong enough.”

“Strong enough to pierce an Ancient’s armor?”

The huge man’s grin was as wide as it was vicious. “I am confident in Clarent’s abilities.”

At literally any other time Ruby would have been interested in knowing more about the duo’s weapons, but not now. “Good. My semblance is speed. You charge yourself up as much as you can while we draw its attention. Pilot - keep those vines from touching Reed. Your sword should cut through them pretty easily if you use your aura,” she explained, all business. “Bai, you and I are going to distract it. When Reed’s ready I’ll launch him at the Colossus. If you can give us a boost with your semblance, do it. With any luck it’ll die in one blow. Any questions?”

Bai shook his head in the negative, while Reed just gave her a thumbs up, sinking to a knee and closing his eyes in intense concentration. His drone lifted itself away from his shoulder, autonomous and ready to record the fight. The pilot shuddered but nodded to her, drawing his sword.

Crescent Rose shifted into rifle mode with a flick of her finger. She’d need all the speed and maneuverability she could get this fight. “Let’s move, huntsmen!”

Ruby felt a warm flare of aura behind her as Reed began charging his semblance. The Ancient seemed to sense their intention, as below them the ground erupted with dozens of thrashing vines, each seeking to incapacitate or cripple.

Praying for the pilot to pull his own weight and keep the spearman safe, she fixed her attention on the Grimm. Crescent Rose dipped forward, barrel pointed at the ground in front of her.

Crack!

She launched into the air, taking potshots at the Colossus as she began to circle around the edges of the courtyard. Every time she lost momentum she’d land on some crumbling piece of architecture, careful to pick spaces that would hold her weight and to never stand still long enough for the Grimm to catch her out.

Opposite her, Bai peppered the beast with shining arrows. Forgoing a quiver, the bowman pulled each arrow from the air itself. Each shot flew with an eerie shriek unlike anything Ruby had heard before; a mix of wind in the mountains on a freezing winter’s day and nails on a chalkboard.

While he didn’t have the same luxury of speed or recoil to boost his leaping that Ruby did, Bai made up for it by creating translucent platforms of solid air, gracefully leaping from one to the next when he couldn’t find a safe foothold to land on.

Together they harried the Colossus, each shot blowing holes in its hide or chipping away at its formidable armor as it swatted at them like tiny flies. Houses were reduced to flinders, smoke and embers amidst the action as the Grimm rampaged through the village, organized streets of cobblestone quickly turning into a churned-up mess as the beast’s heavy footfalls tore them apart.

For all their efforts, they failed to inflict any real damage on the Colossus – it regenerated too quickly for that - but they were persistent enough to keep it distracted and agitated. Like any Ancient it was intelligent, far superior to its mindless lesser brethren, but it was still limited. Consumed by the chase, it was seemingly content to leave Reed relatively unmolested while it pursued the more interesting prey.

Not to say it didn’t try to eliminate the prone huntsman. Vines constantly erupted from the ground to interrupt Reed’s concentration. The pilot was quick to dispatch them though, his aura-empowered strength more than enough to cut through the tough fibers.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing, however.

They had to buy as much time as possible, but it was obvious that they were running out. With the destruction of so many buildings, Ruby and Bai were left with fewer and fewer places to land safely.

She worked furiously at the bolt of Crescent Rose to keep herself airborne, but with every second Ruby knew she would soon have to touch the ground and risk even more of those tendrils leaping out to restrain her.

Without warning, her luck ran out and a piece of masonry collapsed beneath her.

‘Shit!’

Heart leaping in her throat, she prepared to hit the ground running when she was saved. A transparent platform appeared beneath her suddenly, glowing with the telltale sky-blue of Bai’s aura.

Ruby aimed a mental ‘thank you’ at the huntsman, staggering a little at the unexpected landing but quickly finding her balance. She leapt away before she was crushed beneath another swing of the beast’s colossal arms.

Still more seconds passed; they were falling behind.

Blows edged ever closer as their reflexes grew less sharp and fatigue conspired to make their movements more and more sluggish. The underground tendrils became more of a serious threat as safe landing spots grew scarce. Too much more of this and Ruby knew she’d have to dip back into her aura reserves…

Ruby could see Bai tiring as well. He used his semblance ever more sparingly, stretching his aura to last as long as possible. Neither of them were built or trained for long sprints like this.

They just needed a little more time…

The bowman was the first to make a crucial mistake, reacting just a second too slow to leap over a sweeping forelimb. His arms flew up in front of his face, forming a misty barrier between the behemoth and himself. While it did absorb most of the momentum, the blow still sent Bai reeling.

Ruby cursed internally, Crescent Rose’s bark accompanying her leap toward the huntsman. She hit the transformation switch, swapping out for its scythe form and swinging downwards.

The Colossus reeled back in pain as a massive gash appeared along the length of its foreleg. She somersaulted on landing, twisting her body to come up sweeping her scythe in a low arc, parallel to the ground. The tendrils that had instantly risen to encircle her limbs fell away, thrashing on the ground.

She ran over and cut Bai free of the bonds that had already pulled and anchored him to the ground. Her worried eyes lingered on the resin covering his arms and legs as she pulled the bowman to his feet, before she grabbed him around the waist and blurred them away with her semblance a split second before they were crushed by the Colossus.

She stopped at a relatively safe spot on the other side of the courtyard, several houses down from their allies on top of a relatively-intact roof. Her legs ached horribly, taxed by the sprint and her passenger.

The Colossus slowly began to turn itself back around. Throughout the battle it had proven to be deceptively fast, but it took its time when repositioning itself.

“Rose! Bai! I am ready!”

The two huntsmen looked at Reed, whose aura was flaring brightly. It was gold, a little more on the tinny side than yellow, but bright and shining amidst the gloom and haze.

So similar to –

Not fucking now.

Ruby turned to Bai. “Get it to face us. This is either going to work, or it isn’t.”

He nodded, grasping her wrist before she leapt down. He had very subdued blue eyes, Ruby noted. “Thank you for my life.”

Her lips quirked upwards wearily, feeling the bite the rescue had taken out of her aura reserves. “Anytime.”

Reed had levelled Clarent at the Colossus by the time Ruby joined him, the spear surrounded by the same nimbus of light as its wielder. On the other side of the courtyard, Bai was already shooting away at the Colossus, keeping its attention fixated on himself while the two prepared to execute their gambit.

The pilot was still busy hacking away at the vines. He was doing a pretty good job. The ground was littered with dead vegetation. Ruby levelled a serious look at the spear-wielder. “You’re ready for this?”

He shot her a wide, almost-manic grin. “I was born ready, Rose!”

“Let’s do it then,” Ruby said, giving a tiny smile of her own. Her blood, already pumping from exertion and excess adrenaline, seemed to burn hotter near so much concentrated energy. Aura practically bled off the man. She took a step back, setting her feet and pooling her own aura into her body, readying it for the burst of speed.

Then she moved. The world blurred around her as she wrapped her arms around the huntsman and drew him into her bubble of pure velocity. Ruby’s aura briefly strained after the hit from earlier, her legs trying to heal, the day’s exertion and now carrying this huge man, but it was a short journey.

The scarlet tint around her eyesight, touched blue by Bai’s semblance aiding her, vanished and she let go of her passenger, landing laterally on the Ancient’s shoulder and flipping away before the true attack could land.

She landed in a crouch as Reed connected with a roar and a sickening crack, rose petals sweeping past her. The Colossus’ impenetrable armor splintered around Clarent, the spearhead driving deep into its chest, seeking vital organs. Skidding backwards from the force, the Grimm carved a new divot in the cobblestone, only slowing to a halt against the remains of a decorative fountain.

The monster shrieked.

Powerfully, loudly. Excruciatingly for her poor eardrums, which threatened to burst despite her aura’s best efforts.

It was a sound unlike any she’d ever experienced, and one soon joined by the comparably faint sound of crunching bone and metal. Ruby dropped to her knees, clutching her ears as they cried out in protest of the needles driving deep within. One second. Two.

The roar intensified, pressing against her skin as a tangible presence. Ruby grit her teeth, enduring the onslaught just like the others.

Five. Six. Seven…

Just. Stop. Screaming…

Ten.

Eleven…

…

Eventually, it did, to her sweet relief.

Letting her hands fall from her ears (and ignoring the slow trickle of blood and tingle of her aura as it went to work repairing her eardrums), Ruby looked up to see the result of their strategy.

Her heart dropped.

Reed was dead, his skin already blackening in the Colossus’ fist. His armor had crumpled like tin foil in the beast’s horrifically strong grip. Bone protruded from his ruined flesh in several places - where they hadn’t been pulped together already.

Clarent remained deep inside the Grimm’s body, the spear protruding from its chest amidst a gruesome morass of shattered armor and charred Grimmflesh. The wound bled a steady stream of scarlet tar, the Colossus twitching and shuddering randomly, obviously enduring incredible pain.

From a great distance, Ruby heard Bai scream in horror and grief, and belatedly realized that her gambit had failed.

They’d broken the Ancient’s primary defense – that wouldn’t be restored fully for centuries to come. But its flesh was already sealing closed around Clarent, leaving the weapon permanently impaled inside.

It was vulnerable now, and more hurt than it had probably ever been in its life, but it still wasn’t enough.

The Colossus flung the desiccated corpse in its grip to the ground, turning to face the rest of them. Its eyes burned like hellfire, promising slow death for they who dared to truly wound it.

The earth shook with the force of its furious, cold snarl.

Ruby began to slowly back away, her heartrate beginning to hasten once more into panic mode. They were out of options now. The Ancient was done toying with its prey. They needed to run.

“Bai!” she shouted over her shoulder, voice rising with her emotions, “Pilot! We need to run, now!”

The Colossus thundered, truly enraged now, and moved, building the momentum to trample her once again. Ruby twisted and ran, chilled by the realization that she had very little aura left to fuel her semblance.

The earth trembled behind her.

The world started to bleed scarlet and she jumped forward just a few feet, but then the world shook around her, and she staggered out of her semblance prematurely.

Ruby turned to see Bai, aura flaring white-blue, stop the Ancient in its tracks and hold it behind a massive, concentrated barrier. Not even seconds after its creation, jagged fractures had begun webbing across the polished face, the huntsman straining to his limit against the rampaging beast.

“Go!”

Thu-ump.

Ruby blanched. “What? No! I am not leaving you!”

“I will not leave my brother behind!” Bai snarled, a vein throbbing in his temple. “The drone! Take it, the pilot, and get as far away from here as possible! Our ship will reach the city before you. Find it when it returns and get back to Mistral…! Tell them what has happened, form a team… Rgh…! Come back to kill this abomination!”

Her mouth worked soundlessly around a denial, but Bai was set. “We have lost! Make sure our sacrifice is not in vain, Ruby Rose!”

Something within her quailed, but after a moment’s indecision she accepted the huntsman’s choice. It was the same conclusion she’d come to earlier, just more painful and accompanied by even more death.

They had lost.

She could still make it worth something, though.

She would.

Ruby blurred forward, thankful for the lack of vines to trip her up. Sidestepping the Ancient, she cringed as the barrier shattered with a sound like breaking pottery. The beast snarled, its forelegs crashed into the ground, rattling the village, and Bai was forced to roll away to avoid being splattered beneath the rampaging Grimm.

The huntsman brought his bow back up instantly and began shooting away at the vulnerable flesh they’d exposed. It was soft and weak after so much time spent covered by the impenetrable armor, but the wounds still closed faster than Bai could reopen them.

They were painful, vicious thorns to the Colossus though, and kept its bloody gaze fixated on the bowman.

She slid a halt next to Reed, gagging on the foul odor rising from his body when it reached past her veil. The drone had returned itself to where she’d seen it earlier, attached to his shoulder pad and only slightly worse for wear amidst the chaos. Ruby pocketed it, hoping that the information it had recorded would be enough to give the next party a chance.

Touching his forehead briefly in the most rudimentary blessing she knew of, Ruby stood and blurred toward the pilot. He’d drawn his pistol and was shooting at the Ancient while it was preoccupied chasing down Bai.

He lowered the weapon as she stopped near him. “We are to go?” the man asked shakily.

Ruby nodded, steeling herself for her next action.

The pilot looked back at Bai. “I do not like abandoning him; he would not have done the same to me,” he admitted.

“I don’t either,” Ruby agreed curtly. She wrapped an arm around the man’s waist. “But we need to get away – as far as possible – and get word out to Mistral. I’ll use my semblance for as long as I can, but after that we’re running.”

He nodded weakly, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving her a better hold to work with.

He was lightweight compared to Reed. It was a small blessing. Ruby projected a heartfelt mental apology to the two huntsmen before pouring what little aura she had remaining into her semblance.

One foot in front of the other. Faster. The world took on a scarlet tinge, blurring for more than one reason as moisture spilled down her cheeks.

They accelerated. Past the ruined buildings, through the gaping hole in the village’s wall, across the ruined fields and out into the forest.

‘I’m so sorry…’

As far away as she could take them.

Keep moving.

Her body protested, but she would have none of it while they were so close.

Keep. Moving. Forward.

They rested a minute when Ruby’s aura finally sputtered out, several miles away from Horikiri. Her chest heaved, unable to draw enough breath. Her face glistened with sweat in the last light of the day, streaked with grime and tears and filth. She couldn’t feel her legs, save for the faintest of twinges where she knew the poison was working its way into her flesh.

Despite the reprieve, all she could taste was ash.

They started moving again when they heard the crash, faint and muted by distance.

It was succeeded by a piercing cry of victory. She forced herself to ignore the painful ache in her chest as she ordered the pilot to his feet, swiping at her eyes. Ruby’s legs burned as she set a punishing pace for them both, but it was nothing to what she felt whenever she pictured the death she’d borne witness to that day.

They pressed onwards, no matter the pain. They had a job to complete.

Just keep moving forward.

#RWBY #That Last Rose #The Last Rose Chapter Two #Valasania the Pale #My stories #Ruby Rose

[katherinethedork]

Prompt #2! (Ethan Nestor x reader)

(Ft. a lot of teamiplier) (and idk why I used this gif but I like it)

PROMPT CHALLENGE!

Request: “I has idea!! Our precious Ethan, soulmate au, with prompt 2 "so you're the reason I have tension headaches at 2 am" I feel like it'd be pretty cute with some fluff/august of finding your soulmate?? Nonbinary/gender neutral reader, please!”

MASTERLIST!

Warnings: Swearing. Flufff. Lil angst. Cute Ethan.

⚠️If you have requests, wanna be tagged in something, critiques, or just wanna say hi, send me an ask or a message! I probably won’t see it if it’s a comment on a fic. Thanks!⚠️

A/N: My first au! Fic and I think it turned out real swell! Also sososososososo sorry this got out super late. I feel like I’ve been apologizing a lot. Sorry. Anyways, let’s get on with the story! Hope you enjoy!

***

You had always thought you didn’t have a soulmate tie. Or a soulmate. Most people had a tattoo of their soulmate’s name or maybe their first words to each other. Some had strings to lead them to The One™️. But you didn’t seem to. There wasn’t anything that lead you to believe you had a tie, let alone a soulmate. You checked all over your body for some kind of marking, but there weren’t any that were visible. No literal tie with a string. Nothing. That was, until you turned 15. Then you would see random cuts or bruises that you had done nothing to get. Or you would burn your tongue without even eating anything. Having stomach aches completely out of the blue. Waking up unnecessarily tired wasn’t rare. And by the end of the day having a extremely sore throat on random days happened.

This was when you were done. You were sure you had a tie. So you went to your computer and looked up all the ties that were possible. And one of the rarest ties was the pain tie. And you matched it perfectly. Of course you got one of the rarest ties. Just your luck.

You lived the rest of your life getting burned tongues and random injuries here and there. You once broke your leg and felt really bad for whoever your soulmate was. He/she was probably at school too, since it was in the middle of the day. You also woke up with headaches in the middle of the night, that you were sure were your own, because if they were your soulmates, they would not feel as in your head as they were. You were sorry for them.

But by the time you were twenty, you decided to move to LA. You just felt a pull towards that area. Maybe that’s where your soulmate was and that’s why you were being pulled there, you kept thinking. It made sense. But it could also be the fact that you were great at working with cameras and computers. Editing too.

You worked jobs here and there. You had been as a waiter for a while. Looking for an actual real job along the way, when you finally landed a job with a family friend of yours. Mark Fishbach. You had known him as a kid and still kinda kept in touch with him. He said he was looking for an editor and/or a camera person and you immediately said yes. At least it would get you a starting job, and you wouldn’t mind seeing him again after all these years. You learned a while ago that he had started a YouTube channel, so you decided to watch some of his videos. After a few let’s plays and some of the FNAF videos (hey it was a week that you had time), you decided that Mark was way funnier than you had last thought. And you were excited to see him again

It came the time to get off the plane you were riding on. You got your bag and made your way to the main area where Mark said he would be. You looked around trying to spot anyone that looked remotely familiar, when you saw two people who clearly knew how the airport worked. From a distance, they looked vaguely like Mark and the fabled girlfriend Amy; the one that you had heard about. To be honest you didn’t believe he had a girlfriend, but you were happy for him. You had seen a couple of Amyplier posts around. They’re cute.

You started to walk over to them, smiling and flailing your one arm that wasn’t being used to carry luggage around to make them notice you. Luckily, the nonexistent Amy saw you and pulled Mark to see you. He flailed both of his arms back and Amy waved and laughed at him. You finally got to both of them and said:

“Wow Mark you’re really short,” trying not to laugh.

“Wow Y/N I haven’t seen you in so long, I thought you would be way more attractive than you actually are.” He says sarcastically, laughing throughout his whole sentence. You laugh back and hug him.

“Holy shit I haven’t seen you actually in so long! You look really good! Oh- and you must be the fabled girlfriend Amy.” You say turning to her.

“Ah, yes I am the nonexistent girlfriend.” She says smiling, knowing exactly where you were going with this.

“Wow you actually exist, I thought Mark was just going to bring around one of those plastic skeletons and say it was you.” You say laughing at Mark, who looks like a two year old, trying to hold in his laughs and crossing his arms.

Amy laughs, “Yes I’m real. We might wanna get out of here. I hate airports.”

“Alright cool. Lemme take your bag,” Mark says gesturing for you to give him your bag.

“Why thank you sir,” you say, handing your bag’s handle to him, noticing the name Amy tattooed on his wrist.

On the way back to his house you catch up with him and learn all about Amy. You didn’t want to stalk either one of them completely on social media. You wanted to learn from the source. You felt a random pain in your toe. Trying not to make any weird faces while Mark was telling a story, you realized that it was probably your dumb soulmate stubbing their toe.

“Are you ok Y/N? You look a little funny.” He says, looking into his rear view mirror.

“Yeah, it’s just my dumb soulmate stubbing their toe,” You say as the pain starts to go away.

Mark and Amy share a concerned look and then shrug it off.

“So you have the pain tie?” Amy asks, turning around in the passenger seat.

“Yeah, I didn’t know I had it until I was like 15,” you say as your soulmate hits their arm on something, shooting a wave of pain up your arm. Mark and Amy share another concerned look that was laced with a bit of surprise and what looked like happiness.

“What? Why do you keep sharing that look?” You say rubbing your arm in the spot that caught the impact.

“No reason, just,” Mark says not finishing his sentence.

“Just surprised you have the pain tie,” Amy finishes and quickly throws a smile at you. She turns back around in her chair and changes the conversation topic.

****

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that we have some of our friends over for dinner. Don’t worry they’re all nice. You’ll like them,” Mark says, turning the corner to what you assumed is his house.

You exit the car and he gives you your bag back. They both lead you to the door and get you inside. Mark immediately takes you to the guest room upstairs, and shows you where the bathroom is. You hear lots of chatter downstairs. Mark leaves you to get settled, and goes down the stairs to the source of the chatter and joins in. You set your things down and collapse on the bed out of exhaustion. It was magically cool in there, even with the weather outside. You close your eyes and rest a minute. You change your clothes (you don’t want to smell like airplane in front of new people, even if they know you just got off a plane) and fix your hair. You take a deep breath and smile as you walk down the stairs, the same way that Mark went.

You are greeted with Mark, a very tall man with kinda curly brown hair, and a shorter boy with glasses and also brown hair. You recognize the taller one as Tyler, but are struck by the other boy. Ohmygodhe’ssofreakinghot, You thought. And he was, interestingly. You hadn’t thought of any other boy that specific way. You lost your train of thought and ability to breath as you heard

“Oh hey look it’s Y/N! Come ‘ere!” Tyler says smiling. Mark and the mysterious hot one turn around. Mark softly smiles at you and no name is stricken by something also. You’re not quite sure by what though.

You walk over and hug Tyler, “God I haven’t seen you in so long! And you got even taller. I bet you have to get things on the top shelf for Mark.”

“HEY.” He says turning to you with a look that says, ‘why me?? again’.

“Just seeing if you were paying attention.” All three of the boys laugh.

“Oh hey! You haven’t met this guy yet,” Mark says pointing to hot stuffs, “this is Ethan, he used to be one of my editors but he’s full time YouTube now! And Ethan this is Y/N. They are one of my friends from way back and is basically taking your place. They’re like a step sibling. We’re not that close.” Mark says like a proud father, all four of us laugh at the last bit.

“H-hi Ethan.” You say, holding out your sweaty and shaky hand for him to shake.

“H-hey Y/N.” Ethan says taking your equally sweaty hand into his. The moment could not last any longer.

At that moment you split as Amy walks in with a slightly concerned face with another new person who also had glasses and was a girl (thank god).

The girl who had no name walked in with a equally concerned face, but this one was laced with surprise and happiness again. She was looking at both me and Ethan.

“Hey Y/N this is Kathryn. Kathryn this is Y/N.” Amy says gesturing in between you two, her face loostening up.

“Hey Kathryn!” You say.

“Hi Y/N!” She says back.

“Alright, now that we’re done with the introductory part, we are going out to eat at (insert restaurant here).” Mark says grabbing his keys.

Everyone responds with some sort of acceptance and they all start moving around and shuffling to get their shoes. You were getting a weird pull towards Ethan that you had never felt before. During the process of getting out the door you accidentally hit your arm on something. You whisper a quiet ow and look up to see Ethan wince in the other direction and rub his arm.

No fucking way

****

After the dinner that was you and Ethan catching quick glances at each other, but when the other looks back you snap your head away, you went back to Mark’s house for a movie (and probably some ice cream. It always happened, even when you were kids). As soon as you got back to Mark’s house, you fully got what was happening.

Ethan was your soulmate. You didn’t even know his last name, but you knew he was The One™️. Amy and Mark had clearly already found that out because Ethan probably already told his situation to them and it was most likely the exact same thing. When you got to Mark’s house you met all of the gang except for Kathryn who came in with a face. A face you assumed was correlated to Amy telling her about you and Ethan. Then the whole arm thing. You were almost 100% sure that he was it. You decided that you were going to confront him as soon as you can. After all, you wanted to get this whole show on the road.

You walked in the door and took off your shoes along with everyone else. While the gang was separated into a group with Ethan to the side, you decided to walk up to him.

“Uhm h-hey Ethan. Can I talk to you for a sec?” You say, wringing your hands out of nervousness.

“Uh, Yeah sure!” He says with a smile.

You lead him off to a part of the house upstairs where no one was (even though everyone was downstairs you were still nervous what could you say).

“Hey so... ugh I don’t know how to say this,” You nervously laugh and he does the same, you start to scratch at your arm a little too hard on purpose and his face just becomes dumbfounded, “I think you’re my soulmate.”

“What.”

“I-I don’t know how...” you say, trailing your eyes toward the random dresser that was beside you. Not knowing what to do you kicked it as hard as you could, sending a wave of pain throughout your body.

“AAH- oh my god! Why did you do that! You could’ve kicked lighter!” Ethan says practically falling to the ground, clutching his foot.

“S-sorry! I-I didn’t know what else to do,” You say also dropping to the floor in pain, “*deep inhale* aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh why did I do that.”

“I don’t know. Hold on. Oh my god,” Ethan’s face switches from pain to joy, “Holy shit you’re my soulmate!”

Ethan practically bounces up and down out of happiness. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, except smile and look at you. But then his face drops completely and becomes slightly annoyed.

“Oh my god. So you’re the reason I have tension headaches at 2 am.” Ethan says crossing and un-crossing his arms.

“Oh... sorry. Don’t worry I wake up with them all the time too,” You say, mentally facepalming because of course you do, you are the source of those headaches.

His face changes back to smiling at you. He seems like the person who can’t keep mad for too long.

“Well. What are we going to do now?” you say smiling back at him.

“Here. Why don’t we trade phone numbers, but we should probably go downstairs. The others will probably start getting suspicious soon.” Ethan says taking his phone out of his jacket pocket, getting into contacts, and handing it to you.

“A-are we going to tell the group?” You say, handing him your phone, and filling in all the details into his phone. I mean, if he’s your soulmate he probably should know your last name.

“Yeah eventually. I mean if you want to tonight sure!” Ethan says handing your phone back to you.

“I feel like we should just act like a couple until they realize,” you say smiling mischievously.

“I can do that,” he says returning the same smile.

****

After that conversation you two make it down stairs, where you are asked what kind of ice cream you want. You are then seated directly next to Ethan on the couch in the TV room. You were sitting around the room with all of teamiplier. Amy was on the end of the U shape of people, sitting next to Mark, Kathryn was sat next to Mark, you were sitting in between Mark and Ethan, Ethan was sitting next to Tyler, and Kathryn was on the opposite end of Amy.

When everyone sits down and has situated themselves next to each other with a multitude of blankets, the movie starts.

About 30 minutes through the movie, Ethan does the stereotypical “I’m pretending I’m yawning so I can put my arm around you” trick. You have to hold in your laughs as you smile at him. You look around the room to see if anyone has caught on, and you see Amy’s wide eyes staring at you. You smile at her and her face relaxes into a smirk. She mouths I knew it to you and you have to hold in your laughter once again. You look back to Ethan and he’s smiling between you and Amy, also trying to hold in laughter. You put your pointer finger to your mouth and pretend to shush her. She gets the idea and nods, turning back to the TV. Mark somehow stays oblivious to this whole interaction. It’s like magic, this happens every time.

After the movie ends and everyone is just sitting talking, Tyler notices, because of course he is the next one to notice. You give him the same shush and he just smiles and gets back to the conversation. Then of course it’s Kathryn, because she notices Amy and Tyler stealing quick glances at you every now and again. She give you the same look that Amy does and you do the exact same thing again. Mark is SOMEHOW STILL OBLIVIOUS TO THIS WHOLE INTERACTION.

After everyone starts to get ready to go, you are standing with Ethan holding hands. Mark still doesn’t notice. Like I said. Magic. As soon as Tyler says, “Alright I’m the chauffeur, and I’m tired so we should start going.” Ethan replies with “Alright cool!” And kisses you on the cheek.

That got Mark’s attention.

“WOAH HEY WOAH THERE. What happened here?!” Mark says with wide eyes. You legitimately just double over and burst into laughter. The rest of the gang except Mark joins in on laughing with you.

“Was this planned?” Mark says, starting to blush and laugh a bit, “have I been goofed!?”

Eventually when the whole group catches their breath you say, “Ethan and I are soulmates.”. And once again, you show them that it’s true by kicking the wall, full force, with the foot that you kicked the dresser with before. You collapse onto the floor from pain that comes rushing through your body like a tsunami.

“NOT AGAIN!” Ethan shrieks, doubling over in pain along with you on the floor. The rest of the group bursts into laughter again, this time Mark joining them.

“Oh so I have been goofed. Well at least I was right about the whole you two being soulmates thing.” Mark says catching his breath.

“Well wasn’t it Amy’s idea technically?” You say challenging him.

“Weeeeelllllll.... it was collective,” Mark says in a high pitched voice.

“Yeah that’s what I thought,” you say, standing up putting most of your weight on the foot that wasn’t hit twice.

Ethan stands up and says, “Now I have to get you back twice.”

“Ugh I wait for that day.” You say sighing.

“Alright lovebirds I’m tured and I need to get home. You guys can enjoy each other later” Tyler says recovering from all the laughter.

You cringe. ”That wording was not right.” You say.

“I know. I regret everything. Let’s go.” Tyler says, grabbing his keys and opening the door to the outside.

“Alright. Bye! It was nice to meet you all!” You say waving and smiling, especially at Ethan.

Walking up the stairs to your bedroom, you were already planning for so much.

Tags: @luova-lola @bim-trimmer-protection-squad @ethans-a-nerd

#Ethan Nestor #ethan nestor x reader #crankgameplays x reader #x reader #teamiplier x reader #teamiplier #ethan nestor x you #ethan nestor reader insert #ethan nestor dating #reader insert #ethan x reader #you go ethan #reader #crankgameplays x you #crankgameplays reader insert #crankgameplays dating #ethan nestor darling #prompt challenge #masterlist

[musicprincess655]

Sometimes, Jun felt like he had to be the absolute dumbest person on the planet.

Sure, he’d mostly gotten into university on the backs of his good grades, and sure, he was generally a good student, but that didn’t erase the fact that he made some stupid ass decisions.

Namely, telling Yuuki that his next day off was Saturday without remembering why he’d had to trade shifts to make sure he had that Saturday off.

He needed a full twenty four hours to recover from a full moon.

Full moons had never been fun. It always felt like bugs were crawling under his skin and all he wanted to do was get outside and run, but there were laws about doing that around people and as a resident of Tokyo, Jun was around a lot of people.

And then he always ended up breaking something. Even though he never lost himself, despite what terrible erotic novels tried to say otherwise, it was like he had no impulse control. No matter what he told himself beforehand, he always woke up the next morning with something smashed. His family all had the same problem, and they’d had to pack away valuables every month just in case.

No one wanted a repeat of the year they’d broken Grandma’s good vase.

And, of course, Jun felt like shit the next day. Shifting from a human to a wolf was one thing, but when he couldn’t run the shift off, his muscles got all cramped up and he could barely move the next day, which was only made worse by a mostly sleepless night.

And on top of everything else, he had a cold.

But Jun had promised he’d meet Yuuki, and they’d never actually exchanged phone numbers or email addresses, so Jun had no way of cancelling. He just had to throw a medical mask on and hope he didn’t look like he was in pain the entire time.

He felt worse when he saw Yuuki on his phone in front of the coffee shop, clearly having been there for more than a few minutes. He couldn’t even take advantage of the chance to observe Yuuki without being observed.

Jun really wished he’d done literally anything other than yelling at Yuuki immediately upon meeting. Namely, politely offering to let Yuuki sit on his face.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Jun said, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded. From the looks his neighbors had given him that morning, he’d done his fair share of howling last night.

“It’s fine, I wasn’t waiting long,” Yuuki replied, finishing off his text message. “Hope you’re…are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Even Jun could tell he didn’t sound fine.

“You look sick,” Yuuki said, reaching out a hand to feel Jun’s forehead. Jun was so surprised that he let it happen. “You’re a little warm, but I don’t think you’re feverish.”

“I’m not,” Jun said. “It’s just…a cold?”

“Sounds like a nasty cold,” Yuuki said. “Sorry for making you come out.”

“Come on, you didn’t know I was gonna get sick,” Jun said, waving it off and then wincing as the motion pulled one too many sore muscles.

“Do you like soup?” Yuuki asked. Jun nodded. “I know a place close by that’ll still serve miso. Want that?”

Soup actually sounded like a pretty good idea right then.

Jun followed Yuuki into a small family restaurant tucked away from the main street. It had cozy booths, low lighting, and best of all, almost nobody around. It was quiet and peaceful, and Jun released some tension he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying.

He let Yuuki handle the ordering of soup and some hot tea, looking around the place.

“Do you know the area?” Jun asked. He never would’ve noticed this restaurant on his own, hidden away as it was.

“I grew up around here,” Yuuki told him. “I’m not familiar with all of Tokyo, but this area I know pretty well. You?”

“I’m from Kanagawa prefecture,” Jun said. The waitress placed a cup of tea on the table, and Jun scooped it up gratefully. He wasn’t cold, especially not with summer on the brink of breaking outside, but the heat soothed his sore muscles anyway.

“So you’re just here for university?” Yuuki asked. Jun nodded.

“Seidou is one of the best schools for magic in the country,” he explained. “One of the only schools. And there are more people with magic here.”

“I always wondered why that was,” Yuuki mused.

“Probably just because it’s a big city,” Jun suggested. “More people, more jobs, more opportunities. It’s the same with Sendai up north. And it’s easier for us to be around other people like us.”

Yuuki just studied him, for long enough that Jun felt his cheeks flushing and the waitress brought soup for him and some kind of rice bowl dish for Yuuki.

“What’s it like living here and being human?” Jun asked. Even in Tokyo, after all, only about half of the residents had some kind of magic in their blood. Yuuki shrugged.

“Sometimes it feels like half the city is in some secret club I’m not invited to,” he said. “Most of the time, though, it just feels normal. I’ve always lived here. This is just how life is.”

Jun decided that was fair enough.

“So what exactly do you study at magic school?” Yuuki asked. “I’ve always wondered.”

“You know Seidou has a website, right?” Jun asked. Yuuki looked surprised at the information, so maybe he hadn’t. “Well, I’m a practical magic major. Doesn’t mean much, something like three fourths of the school is practical magic. There’s a lot of ways you can specialize. The people who want to be teachers have a few extra classes, and there’s a program for people who want to specialize in combat and go into the police. I think you have to take a special exam to get into that.”

“So what are you?”

“Just general practical magic for now,” Jun said. “I can choose to specialize later, or I can just graduate with the general degree. I haven’t decided yet.”

“What do you do with a degree in practical magic?”

“Honestly, just about anything you want, but if you know a specific field you want to go into, you should probably pick a specialization.”

“So what do you want to do?”

Jun gave him an unimpressed look, because he was eighteen and fuck if he knew. Yuuki’s expression didn’t change much, but he also didn’t press the question. It was almost too easy for Jun to direct them in another direction.

“What about you, what do you study?” Jun asked, almost surprised to find he was actually interested in the answer. What did arguably the hottest man Jun had ever met with a penchant for sugary coffee study.

“Classical literature.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No.” Yuuki gave him a confused stare. “I like classical literature.”

“Sometimes I think you picked the most unpredictable thing you could do and then did it just to mess with everyone,” Jun told him.

“Plenty of people study classical literature.”

“Not people who look like you.”

“What do I look like?”

Someday, Jun was going to learn to watch his mouth, but clearly today wasn’t that day.

“Like…a jock?” he tried, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Yuuki let it go.

“I wanted to go to Meiji because that’s where my high school coach went,” Yuuki explained. “He gave up a professional career because he wanted to give back to his school and coach the new baseball team. I always really looked up to him.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Jun asked. “Go back, teach classical literature, coach the baseball team?”

Yuuki shrugged.

“I haven’t decided yet,” he said. “It’s a nice idea, but maybe I also want to go pro. I’ve had offers.”

“You must be good.”

“I’m a starter for Meiji. Mostly, though, it’s just because I worked hard.”

Jun privately thought that Yuuki would be saving a lot of people a lot of grief by shelving his plan to go into teaching and going into the pro leagues. Every female student that was even remotely interested in men would have an epic crush on him, but there were probably a group of male students that would learn a thing or two about themselves from having Yuuki as a teacher.

Jun honestly had no clue how he would’ve gotten through high school if he’d had a teacher that looked as good as Yuuki did.

It was almost soothing, the way their conversation turned to baseball, Jun asking questions because he understood the game in the broad sense but didn’t understand the finer points of strategy, Yuuki telling him about their chances against other universities based on how the spring had gone and how their new first years were integrating in. Apparently the next tournament wouldn’t be until the fall, well after Jun was done with the coven battle against Inashiro in the summer. He made a mental note to mark the games in his calendar, if only because Yuuki had worked damn hard to apologize for something he hadn’t done, and if nothing else Jun could go watch him play at least once.

It was for purely selfless reasons.

Jun barely noticed the time passing, almost shocked at how easy it was to talk to Yuuki, despite how stoic he looked. He volunteered information easily enough if asked, and Jun was almost certain he had an incredibly dry, sarcastic sense of humor, but he wasn’t sure. Yuuki’s poker face was really good.

In fact, it wasn’t until the waitress left a check pointedly at Yuuki’s elbow that Jun realized they’d been there for almost three hours. He hadn’t felt his sore muscles since they’d started talking.

“Let me get part of that,” Jun said, reaching for the check. Yuuki held it out of reach, and damn him, he was tall enough that it worked.

“I’m buying you food to apologize to you,” Yuuki insisted.

“That’s the other thing,” Jun said. “You really have nothing to apologize for. I was being a dick and I had a long shift. If anything, I should be apologizing to you. And buying you dinner to thank you for not getting me fired.”

“I don’t know, my teammates said that was a pretty obnoxious drink,” Yuuki said, steadfast deadpan expression in place as he left money on the table and stood to offer Jun his hand. “Maybe I deserved to get yelled at for it, and maybe this is me apologizing for asking for a ridiculous drink.”

This time, Jun was looking for it, and he caught the barest quiver of a lip and a shaking shoulder.

“You’ve been fucking with me this entire time!” he accused. “I saw you laugh!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Yuuki said, breaking down into quiet laughter that barely counted as laughter. “You make really interesting faces, I wanted to see how long it would take you to notice.”

“But…you weren’t teasing me when you asked to buy me dinner.” It was less question and more statement.

“No.”

“So why did you feel like you had to apologize this much?”

“Maybe I just wanted to buy you dinner.”

Jun had no clue what to do with that, because now that he knew what to look for, he could see the little quirk in Yuuki’s lips. He held out his hand.

“Phone.”

“What?”

“Give me your phone.”

Yuuki didn’t even argue, just handed his phone over. Jun scrolled through to the ubiquitous LINE app, typing his own ID into the search bar.

“There,” Jun said, handing Yuuki his phone back and pulling his own out to accept the friend request he’d just sent himself. “Now you can text me instead of stalking me at my workplace.”

“Maybe I had fun doing that.”

“Maybe it’ll be easier on both of us if you just text me next time you want to hang out.”

“Is that an open invitation?”

“Yes,” Jun said without thinking. “Well, no. Exams start for us soon, and I have to study. But after that. Yes.”

“I’ll text you.”

And the thing was, Jun really did need to study, but he was the most relaxed he’d ever felt the day after a full moon, and he was going to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

#tetsujun #juntetsu #daiya no a #ace of diamond #dna #my writing #magic au #cosa

[crimsonbluemoon]

BBS Cops Squad 2

So a lot of people seemed to enjoy my AU about the BBS as cops in a precinct together, so I took some time to add some other minor characters to the story. If you didn’t see the first list, come check it out here. If you have seen it, then please enjoy this second part! 

Basically: Marcel is a lawyer who works with the BBS precinct on the court side of things. He can play both sides pretty well; he’s intellectual and graduated at the top of his law school, but spends a lot of his free time working in shelters and youth clubs for kids in the city. Has worked with the city (with BBS support) on getting fundamental necessities for lower income parts of the city. Can come in handy if a teen-on-teen violence case comes around. Tends to hang out with Scotty, despite their differing jobs, because he doesn’t want to become a “stuck-up lawyer kind”. Sometimes, his anger can cause him to have a mouth on him. Can handle small pranks, but tends to blow up if constantly picked on (Vanoss is may be the main cause of this). Is one of the smarter members of the group, and enjoys debating with Moo or Ohmwrecker when they have downtime. Actually listens to his clients. Tries not to take hate crime cases, as he doesn’t want to be “type-casted” as a specific type of lawyer. Has been known to embarrass court officials, police officers, and other lawyers when they make racial comments or assumptions, but does it professionally. May later rage to his friends about the incident. Is known to “quit” on cases when overwhelmed, but a phone call from WildCat or Moo normally gets him back on track. Has a good heart, just sometimes wants to punch Nogla someone in the face.

FourZer0Seven: A medic for the team, Scotty also assists in the morgue on occasion. Despite being a medical professional, loves watching trashy medical/crime show dramas. WildCat refers to him as “kid”. Is a ray of sunshine who sometimes gets into trouble when hanging around Mini Ladd too long. Ohm desperately tries to can keep them corralled most of the time. Has a secret corkboard in the nursing area where he keeps “tabs” on the relationships going on in the squad. Mini Ladd and Panda may both know about this. Ship his friends like a teenage girl, and is pretty attuned to their relationship status (fighting, getting along, tension, etc). Is never in the fights between the teammates, and seems to genuinely get upset when they do butt heads. Will make himself the butt of jokes if it helps the fighting stop. Is positive that a zombie apocalypse could happen thanks to  Panda claiming a body “walked away from him” once (”Damnit, Anthony, stop scaring the kid.” “But look how pale he is!”). Checks in with Smii7y daily, despite never really getting to see him. Makes Marcel take him on “friend dates” to ridiculous places (mini golf, museums, a submarine) as he’s afraid his friend will lose the idea of fun in his career. Is scared one day he’ll make a medical mistake and kill a cop-friend, though he never shares that anxiety with anyone. Binge watches Anime with Mini and Delirious on their days off.

Moo: Hostage negotiator. Is probably the friendliest man you will ever meet. May actually shit rainbows. The only person that WildCat cannot yell at, no matter the situation. Never wanted to learn how to use a gun, as his philosophy doesn’t promote any forms of violence. This mind frame sometimes put him at odds with Brian, despite the two having a good chemistry. Has only agreed to carry a gun if Brian and Tyler come to “Mindfulness” classes once a week for their anger (Tyler refuses to admit they’re working). Brock is sometimes used as a venting post for the officers, as he has a motherly nature about him. Makes the best brownies, and has been known to bring them in when “things are tense” in the squad room. Has an optimistic view of life, despite watching several people kill themselves/others in front of him. Probably has seen the most killed besides Cartoonz and Terroriser. This has made him value his friendships with the squad, and has learned first aid training from Scotty in case of emergencies. When he’s nervous or lying to friends, he has a tell (laughs very loudly), but neither of these traits comes out when he’s in a hostage negotiation. Has once used himself as a hostage substitute to save a little girl from a bank robbery, Brian later killing the man in his attempt to rescue Brock. This incident is a sore spot for Brian and Brock, neither of them speaking about it despite its obvious impact on them and their relationship.

Terroriser: Works with the BBS as a criminal profiler for high-risk crimes. Works mainly with Brock and WildCat because this type of profiling is less about everyday crime and more of wide-scale situations (high stalk robberies, serial killer, active shooters, etc). Can have a massive bit of a chip on his shoulder, and takes his Irish heritage very seriously. Has an expectation of always getting his target, and takes it hard if someone slips away. At a young age in Ireland, Brian solved a serial killer case that officers couldn’t, which has haunted him throughout his life and made him leave his country to come to the USA (”You’re the serial killer kid! Can I have your autograph?”). Has a love/hate relationship with Nogla and Vanoss, depending on the day, as he sees them like brothers (hence why they also drive him up the wall faster than anyone else in the precinct). His “friendship” with Brock is complex. Despite this, has an unreasonable need to protect him. Will not talk about what happened in the bank. Anyone who mentions it, except Brock, is asking for a tongue lashing. Doesn’t deal with emotions; would rather shoot something. Does seek out physical comfort (hugs, snuggling, etc) from his friends when overtired. Will always get hit on if they go out somewhere, despite being the one with the least amount of sexual experience in the group.  

BigJiggly: Working with dead people all the time (he’s a coroner), Anthony doesn’t take life too seriously. Tyler can be seen hanging out in the lab on days when he’s burnt out from work (though he won’t go down there while a body is out). One of the only people that the chief lets his guard down with. Always has a “friend of a friend” who knows information about the crime, but never tells his sources, as he “ain’t no snitch”. Despite this, gets along with everyone in the police department. Has an infectious laugh. He has no desire to be a cop, and respects cops for their work ethic and not their uniform. He recognizes there are bad cops in the world. This has caused some controversy with other precincts, but the BBS squad always has Anthony’s back. Is the one who would get pissed at someone getting his order wrong in a drive-thru, but could have a calm conversation with a man pointing a gun at him. Is blunt, and doesn’t get grossed out by most things. He and Scotty most definitely have might try to catch cheeseballs in their mouths next to a dead body (WildCat banned Scotty from the morgue for a week after finding out). Despite this, cannot stand animal abuse, and cries at any movie where an animal dies. Lets Vanoss sleep in his office if Evan brings him Doritos. A Halloween fanatic.  

Smii7y: Computer hacker for the BBS squad. Is rarely in the actual squad room, as most of his work can be done in his own office. Does send a daily meme to Mini Ladd and Scotty, who both consider him a “meme god”. Might be the only one in the entire unit that knows Cartoonz and Ohm’s past, as he’s in charge of all personnel files, but has never said a word about it. He is known for leaving “Milk viruses” in computers of confirmed child pornography cases, which can track the strand of data back to the original source and corrupt the file. The file can then only be deleted by Smii7y in person, helping to convict those who share it. He worked on this encryption with Delirious, though the cop has asked for his name not to be connected to the project. Businesses like Apple or Google have offered him double his paycheck to come work for them, but Smii7y always refuses. Feels working the BBS squad makes a difference. Despite being extremely smart and sassy while doing his job, he’s not a fighter by nature and is terrified of getting into an actual fight. Keeps almost all of his personal information a secret, as he’s helped take down people with “friends in high places”.

And that’s the second part of the BBS Cop Squad AU. The more I think about it, the more I’m tempted to give this an actual story. So, yeah, hope you enjoyed this!

#bbs squad #bbs #BBS cops AU #Cop au #Banana Bus Squad #basicallyidowrk #fourzer0seven #moo snuckel #the gaming terroriser #bigjigglypanda #smiity #smii7y #hinted terrornuckle #might make this a thing #vanoss #dathi de nogla #h2o delirious #mini ladd #cartoonz #wild cat #ohmwrecker

[neonthewrite]

Walt and Sean

My entry for the 2018 Brothers Apart tumblr contest. I wanted to write something with @nightmares06‘s Walt Watch, since he’s one of my favorites and he recently had some huge character development in the latest story of the Brothers Apart AU. This is set sometime in the weeks/months after the first story, after Sam has left with Dean under the assumption that Walt didn’t survive the events of that story.

Hope you enjoy it! Reading time approx. 10 minutes.

Walt knew something was wrong before he had time to fully wake up. Something like a heavy weight settled over his heart and he sighed without opening his eyes. Life had thrown him too many strange new things in so many months. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever have some semblance of what he had before.

Before Mallory … before Bree … his family had been fragmented, time and time again. What had he done for fate to lay its hands on him like that not once, but twice? He didn’t even know what had become of Sam.

That boy … Walt had known what he was, and hadn’t cared. In his old life, he was as much a danger to Walt as any other human.

Seeing that little face, full of fear he tried to hide, had decided for him. He and Mallory had been no match for those plaintive hazel eyes, full of tears the boy didn’t want to release. Walt still remembered the mumbled excuses about chick-flick moments. He didn’t even know what that meant and he could tell Sam’s heart wasn’t in the words.

The boy had lost his family. Just like Walt and Mallory had lost their baby girl not a year before. They might not understand everything Sam lost, but they understood that. There was no turning him away.

And now he was gone. Mallory was gone. Walt was alone, if not for--

“Walt?” Krissy’s voice was cautious and quiet, but Walt had known the girl long enough to recognize something else in it. Worry. His pale blue eyes opened at last to take in the concerned shadows on her face.

“I can’t find Sean,” she admitted, worrying her lip. She was only inches away, her hand braced against the frame of the doorway into Walt’s small alcove. “I saw him this morning when I woke up, but now I can’t find him in the house.”

The house belonged to Krissy and her family. They didn’t have that much room, but she hadn’t hesitated to move Walt in after what happened at his own home. What was left of it was no longer safe for him. The charred remains of wood and fabric were all that remained of the life he’d built, the one he always thought he’d keep. He never asked for a lot, but even that was too much.

He sat up in bed, a customary stern frown on his face. “Did you hear him leave?”

Krissy shook her head, and golden waves so like and unlike those of his daughter waved with the motion. Walt looked away from her to stare at his hands on his lap. “Alright. I’ll go.”

Krissy sighed and the sound carried her relief with it. The humans were still fixing up the room where the floorboards had seemingly gone up in flames of their own accord. It wasn’t very safe for any of their kind to be wandering unnecessarily, not while there were repairmen around and everyone was more alert.

Krissy, with her longtime terror of the enormous beings that ran the world beyond the walls, wanted nothing to do with going out. If she didn’t absolutely have to, she wouldn’t go.

Not long after waking, Walt had his boots on and his satchel over his shoulder. He stretched his arms to the side to work out the soreness in his shoulders, and headed out of the small home hidden away in the walls.

He already had a sneaking suspicion of where he needed to go.

Walt still wasn’t quite used to the passages around Krissy’s home. Instead of the familiar space under the floorboards he knew, he found his new home, with new turns and obstacles in his way. At least, he could hope, Sean remembered the way. The kid was quiet, as shy as Sam had been, but he was smart.

Most of the time, anyway. Wandering off on his own was foolish and Walt was ready to tie him down if it got that lesson across.

He stalked silently through dust and dark, unerring on his path. After his wounds had healed enough, Walt had wasted no time setting up his tannery again. It had fallen into disuse, but it would still suit his purposes. He’d even taken Sean there several times to start teaching him the ropes and explaining how they’d use everything the next time a rat came sniffing around.

It was a trek, but he didn’t have many options. The sharp smell of the tanning solution he had, plus the inevitable odor of the messy process, were too dangerous to keep close to home. A supply closet, already steeped in its own soapy, chemical smell, was the perfect cover for his craft.

It was also one of the few places other than the house that he’d taken Sean to so far. Like Sam when he’d first arrived, the kid had a lot to get used to. He was only a boy, and his life had been completely pulled from under him. Walt and Krissy would have to be his support now.

Walt tensed when he neared his work area and heard rustling. It could be a harmless mouse, or it could be another rat come to investigate, but he doubted both. Even so, his hand slipped into his jacket as he approached, just in case he needed to draw out his razor blade in defense.

When he rounded the last corner, the tension left his shoulders and he put his hands on his hips. “You better have a good reason for scaring us to death,” he greeted. His voice, stern though it was as quiet as always, startled the small figure hunched to the ground.

Sean, a young former-human, tried to twist around to face the source of the sound, but at the same time he tripped on his own feet and fell. A quiet oof escaped him, and his breath hitched. “W-Walt?” he said, his voice cautious. He stared up, but Walt got the feeling he couldn’t really see much. He’d gotten used to the dark as quickly as anyone could expect of him, but he still had a long way to go before he would be able to see well.

Walt sighed tersely. “What were you thinking? You didn’t tell Krissy where you were going and you certainly didn’t come and find me to bring you.”

“I-I told her,” Sean mumbled. His voice was naturally quiet, even for a kid who used to be human. “Just … real quiet, I guess.”

Walt believed it. Even through the resigned nervousness in the boy’s voice, he couldn’t hear any hint of a lie. There was a chance he had tried to tell Krissy where he was going while she was busy with something else.

“You shouldn’t have come out here by yourself. What if you got lost?” he scolded, still not ready to let up.

Sean shifted so his knees were closer to his chest and he looked contemplatively at his hands. “I was gonna surprise you,” he muttered, almost too quiet for even Walt to hear. “Since … since I spilled all the dust last time.”

Walt paused, caught off guard by the boy’s honest excuse. Last time he’d brought Sean to the work area, he’d fumbled a bag of the dust that Walt used for his tanning. The mixture of what salt he could get from the kitchens, plus crumbled plaster and sawdust, was a must when drying out rat pelts.

The cloud of powder in the air had nearly thrown them both into a hacking fit. Walt had scolded Sean for it while hastily dragging the coughing, teary-eyed kid away. It wasn’t the worst that could happen, but if someone had heard…

Walt’s expression softened despite his determination, and he squatted down to Sean’s level. He could see the boy’s contrition even in the shadows under the floor, but Sean watched him with caution. He couldn’t tell what Walt was thinking in return.

“I’m not worried about the dust,” Walt told him, opting instead for a gentler tone. It didn’t come naturally for him, and he put a hand on Sean’s shoulder to help. “It’s easy to clean that up once it’s all settled.”

“Y-yeah,” Sean agreed quietly. He’d already made good progress sweeping handfuls of it into a pile, now abandoned next to him.

“I am worried about you,” Walt continued. Sean ducked his head, but it didn’t stop the lecture from coming. He needed to hear it. “There’s a lot for you to learn, but you shouldn’t go trying to figure it all out yourself. We’re here to help, and you cannot go off on your own like this again. Even if you never leave the walls, you could run into danger.”

Sean looked up again, guilty tears brimming in his eyes, and for a moment Walt saw Sam’s grubby face instead. Lonely and determined, but young and scared. Walt had seen that boy grow into a strong young man, quick and smart and as good a climber as anyone had ever seen.

He’d lost Sam. Krissy didn’t talk about him much ever since Sean showed up. Walt would have to do better this time.

“C’mere.” It was an awkward motion so early in Sean’s time with them, but Walt drew the boy into a hug. There was a pause in which they stayed like that, waiting in the dark, and Walt felt the tension slowly work its way out of Sean’s shoulders.

“‘Kay,” Sean finally replied, muffled into Walt’s jacket. “I won’t do it ‘gain. Promise.”

Walt gently patted Sean’s hair before drawing back and looking him in the eye. “See that you don’t,” he instructed. Then, “Now, since we’re here, we might as well finish up your good work and bag that dust up. Then you can go and apologize to Krissy.”

#ba contest entry 2018 #walt and sean #walt watch #sean #krissy vent #brothers apart #fanfiction #supernatural #in the walls #lecture #sam winchester #mywriting

[shadowphoenixrider]

Azsuna Awaits (1/7)

(More Draggka/Khadgar fic? Yes indeed, despite its lateness! Tagging my ever excellent people: @elfgirl931, @fer8girl, @galleywinter, @sigurdjarlson, @highpriestessbriyanna!)

Draggka thought she would have gotten used to Khadgar’s servant popping up to speak with her, but every time she felt the magic prickle her fur, she couldn’t stop that slick of unease sliding down her spine. She’d always found elementals a little eerie, since most of them had pits where eyes should be, though some had glowing lights instead. That and their monotone way of talking was a little unsettling.

That all said, she turned to look at the shimmering pink creature, its form rippling and vacillating as it stared at her blankly. Spike’s tense posture was a mirror of her own, as if he couldn’t decide whether he should snap or bite the ethereal creature.

The archmage requests your presence on Krasus’s landing. Its ‘voice’ sounded out in her head. The matter is urgent, and you may be unable to return for a time.

The hunter had heard enough of these coded requests to know what Khadgar was really telling her: ‘I’ve found the location of another Pillar, please come now, and we may be some time’. She wasn’t sure if this secrecy as really necessary, but the troll figured that the archmage’s encounter with the fake Medivh in Karazhan had made him understandably wary.

“I be on da way,” she said, striding past the elemental without waiting for a response, Spike quickly falling into step beside her.

Dalaran’s streets were thrumming again with people of all races and both factions, and whilst the mood seemed fairly calm, there was a definite tension in the air, especially close to the entrances of the Horde and Alliance districts. Apparently fights were occasionally erupting in the Underbelly if the guards turned their backs for long enough. Draggka hoped it wouldn’t spill out into the streets; the guards surface-side were strict about enforcing the no fighting rule back when Dalaran floated uncomfortably close to Icecrown, so there was no doubt they would take an equally dim view of it now.

The archmage was waiting for her on the landing, along with her wyvern Fang, all harnessed up and ready to go, the beast leaning in to the scratches the mage was giving him behind his ear. Khadgar’s eyes brightened as he caught sight of her, and he waved her over.

“There you are! Over here, Draggka!” Khadgar’s smile made his eyes shine, crinkles appearing in the corners.

“Ya be makin’ friends wit Fang, I see.” The troll commented, the wyvern affectionately headbutting the hand she reached out to him, purring loudly. Fang then turned his attention to Spike, both creatures nudging each other in greeting, and rumbling happily at each other.

“Well, it’s conventional wisdom to befriend a hunter’s animal companions as well as the hunter, so I figured I’d try my luck with wyvern. Fang, is it?” Khadgar grinned. “Mei allowed me to take him out with a couple of warnings about being stung or bitten, but he has been nothing but friendly to me.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “I must say, he seems bigger than most wyverns.”

“Dat be because he is.” Draggka nodded, scratching the winged feline under the chin and absently checking the harness with her other hand. “Fang be a tauren-sized wyvern, bred to support dere weight, but da Horde also be using dem to carry tings. Like a hunter’s partner.”

“I see.” The intrigue was bright in Khadgar’s eyes, and she couldn’t resist a smile to see it. “Much like the Gilneans breed their gryphons for cargo and construction. How fascinating. And I suppose some wyverns are bred to increase the potency of the venom?” He asked, leaning back a bit as Fang’s tail lifted in response to his petting.

“Of course.” Draggka grinned. “Though dere be some demand fer pet wyverns now, wit little sting an’ more fluff.”

“There is?” The mage’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, before he shook his head quickly. “Ah, don’t get me started, we’ll be here all day. Alas, I didn’t call on you to discuss the selective breeding of wyverns, as much as I’d prefer to spend my time thus.” He smiled apologetically, the light in his eyes dimming slightly.

“Are you up for a little trip down to the Broken Isles?” He asked. “I have uncovered information concerning one of the Pillars of Creation. Our search will begin on the ancient elven island of Azsuna, just northwest of here. Long ago, it was where the Highborne elves of Suramar perfected their mightiest of magics. Now it is a cursed ruins, and no-one knows why.”

“The Illidari have established a camp there, and as they are the only people we know in the area, that is where we will begin.”

Draggka raised an eyebrow.

“Ya coming wit us?” She asked.

“Of course.” The mage grinned. “I didn’t follow you to Highmountain, as I figured the tauren there had been looking for you, not me. And, well, I am a human, after all.”

“And I be a troll.” The hunter pointed out, gesturing for Fang to crouch, letting Spike climb gingerly onto his back. “Dey been isolated from all da Alliance an’ Horde wars, remember. Though dey be of da same kin, dey not hold da same grudges.”

“That’s...a good point, actually.” Khadgar frowned, stroking his chin. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. Well, they did indeed come to Dalaran to look for you, and I doubt they would have appreciated me tagging along.” He flashed the troll a smile. “This time, however, I will join you for this expedition.”

“Ya sure ya not be needed up here? It be dangerous down dere.” She warned him, strapping Spike securely into the harness, the raptor wriggling to test its hold.

The archmage waved a dismissive hand.

“The other Council members will do fine without me. Besides, just because I happen to be in charge doesn’t mean I can’t go out on adventures. Modera and Kalec are definitely going out in the field with the Tirisgarde’s Conjurer, so I can’t see why I can’t go out with the Huntmaster.”

Draggka rolled her eyes.

“Alright. Jus’...try not to be blowing up any dams dis time!” She said, giving the mage a pointed look.

“That was an entirely necessary action!” Khadgar retorted. “I just...didn’t get out of the way in time.” One of the troll’s eyebrows arched, and Spike lifted his head to give the wizard an unimpressed look. “As for you, Huntmaster, can we not make me think that you’ve been blown to smithereens onboard a warship, please? I’m lucky my hair is already grey!”

“It were fine. I were only lightly burned.” Draggka replied, lifting a shoulder. At the mage’s stare, she added: “Hey, I be used to it. I be learning engineering from goblins.”

“That did the opposite of reassuring me, actually.” Khadgar muttered. He dismissed it with a quick shake of his head. “Anyway. Ready to take wing?”

Draggka slung her leg over the wyvern, and Fang purred deeply, lifting his body off the ground just enough to look like he was ready to pounce. The wing membrane on the creature’s arms twitched, opening slightly.

“I be ready. Let’s be getting going, Khadgar.” She nodded.

The wizard gave a quick nod before he turned to face the open sky, magic starting to cascade down Atiesh and spread across his body. It was a man who spread his arms wide, and gathered his feet to jump into the air, but it was a raven who brought his wings down, tail flared wide to gather lift. Fang sprang into the air to follow the corvid as best as the laden wyvern could, the troll’s stomach dipping and her heart lifting as Fang’s powerful wingbeats propelled them into the sky.

The raven immediately banked left, and Fang followed, catching a breeze under his large wings to remind the hunter of her beast’s more romantic name; wind rider. Watching the bird ahead of them, Draggka noted that she found it strange to reconcile the fact that this avian was also her human lover. With that thought, however, Khadgar was just as elegant clad all in feathers as he was in robes, and the way he twitched and shifted his wings to glide along the currents as easily as if he’d been a bird all his life. She wondered if it was part of his magic, or whether he’d had to learn to fly as any fledgling would.

“Ya not riding?” She asked, raising her voice to carry to him as they descended past the floating city, being careful to avoid the outflow pipes jutting from the rocky foundations.

“I prefer using the greatstaff Atiesh’s raven form.” Khadgar replied, the deep croak of a raven in the cadence of his voice. “Nothing’s worse than saddle sores.”

Despite herself, Draggka barked out a laugh; there was something to the annoyance in his tone that amused her.

“Hey, it’s not funny!” Khadgar cawed indignantly. “I wasn’t used to the long rides a military campaign entailed! It really hurt after a while.”

“Yeah, I tink ya maybe need more practise an’ a better saddle.” She grinned at the glare he gave her. “But dat be jus’ my opinion.”

“Easy for you to say. I bet your people barely get sores, with how quickly you heal.” Khadgar grumbled.

“Someting like dat.” She nodded. Saddle sores had definitely been a thing when Draggka had began riding her first raptor, but a combination of her regeneration, time, and several saddle variations had completely eliminated the problem for her now.

“Hmph.” Khadgar huffed through his beak, continuing to lead them down towards the western-most side of the Broken Isles.

It was much more coastal than Highmountain, with weathered slate grey rocks covered in green grass, and plenty of wind-battered trees clinging to their perches. As they flew down, closing in to a narrow strait with an old yet elegantly constructed bridge crossing it, Draggka noticed that the waters were shifting strangely, like a overly large shoal of fish or cluster of sea creatures were swimming just under the surface. It didn’t look right, and she called to her companion:

“Khadgar, look down dere, to our right, dere be someting-”

Just as the raven tilted his head, the creatures revealed themselves, rising from the depths like kvaldir from their watery graves.

“Naga!” He declared grimly. “And in force too, by the look of those bruisers.” He gestured to enormous scaly monsters lumbering out of the waves alongside their serpentine kin. They looked like the naga equivalent of a dire troll, with their bulk and stubby tails, equipment fastened to their backs with waterlogged nets dotted with barnacles.

“We have competition from Queen Azshara herself, it seems.” Khadgar continued. “She must be after the Pillar of Creation. This is unexpected, and deeply concerning.”

“De naga be mostly quiet since da Cataclysm, afta Neptulon escaped dem.” Draggka said. “Why dey be returning now?”

“Azshara did ally with Sargeras once before. She may be trying to bargain again. Whatever her plan, we must find the Pillar before she does. I can think of few worse people to have such an artifact in their possession.” The avian archmage spoke as they flew over an expanse of tide flats, which were starting to fill with naga. Already there were pockets of tents and basic fortifications as they made their mark on the land. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to see or pay much mind to the wyvern and bird flying above their heads, allowing them to fly unmolested further inland with the sea.

The tide flats opened out into what appeared to be a giant lake, a large, rounded building sitting in the middle of it, of similar construction to the bridge they’d seen earlier. It was connected by bridges to other buildings on the shoreline, once elegant but now crumbling with time and the relentless hammering of the sea. All colour of the stone had been washed out, replaced by a dull greyish blue, or green where algae had begun to grow. Sharp curved architectural flares were worn smooth, and vegetation had begun to overtake any structures far enough from the sandy beaches for roots to dig in. If not for the elements, however, they seemed to show no great signs of damage; remove the impact of time, and the troll was certain that the buildings would look as they were in the past. Only empty and devoid of life. Ghostly, even.

“Breathtaking...” Khadgar murmured, wings outstretched in a glide as he drank their surroundings in. “Imagine all of the arcane knowledge lost to the ages here. It would take a life-time to uncover it all.”

Draggka grinned knowingly.

“Ah, so dat’s why ya be wanting to come. Ya just wanna dig in de old elf books.”

“No!” The mage replied, too quickly. “I-I want to find the Pillar of Creation first, and deal with the Legion, of course! But, ah, maybe afterwards, I might peruse a few buildings. T-To see if anything survived.” He glanced back at the hunter, trying not to look guilty, and failing tremendously.

“Uh huh.” Draggka chuckled. “Shoulda known.” She smiled warmly at her lover, and she was sure that if he were able to, he’d probably have blushed. Instead, he just glanced away, some feathers fluffing up around his head briefly.

They continued on, moving inland, and as they did, the all-too familiar fel-green, angular Legion structures appeared on the horizon, and the glimpses of blackened, dead vegetation. Draggka felt Fang tense between her legs, a low growl escaping the wyvern. The troll instinctively lowered her body, tightening her grip on the reins; though the Legion seemed far off, she didn’t want to assume anything, nor attract any attention.

“There, the Illidari.” Khadgar suddenly spoke, making her jump. She hadn’t noticed that he’d fallen back to flying alongside her. The hunter looked in the direction of his tilted beak to a cluster of ruined buildings, populated by tents and the still unfamiliar banners of the Illidari. The elven warriors were forming up behind makeshift barriers they’d made on the front lines of their camp, across the shallows from the land where the Legion was based. The demons would attack in steady stream across the sand, the demon hunters dashing out to cut them down before retreating back behind their barriers. At least, that’s what most did, whilst others got bogged down in a melee they managed to win, or they were overwhelmed, or were flanked, and were cut down. Corpses of both sides littered the sands, and the water couldn’t seem to decide what colour it was going to turn.

“They’re holding the line against the Burning Legion, but just barely.” The archmage spoke, leading Draggka to land a little ways back from the Illidari camp. The raven hopped once before returning to human form, shaking some loose feathers off his shoulders. Draggka slid off Fang’s back, releasing Spike from the harness before strapping it to lie flat against the wyvern’s back. With a scratch under the beast’s chin and a soft kiss to his head, she encouraged the wyvern to fly off and leave them; a risky move to be sure, but she couldn’t depend on the Illidari taking care of Fang in the middle of a warzone. Besides, she did have a mage with her.

Said mage flashed her a grin that made her heart skip.

“Come, my dear, let’s put Thas’dorah to use.” He briefly glanced to her side. “And I’m sure Spike wouldn’t mind a snack, no?”

The raptor gnashed his teeth, baring them in a grin, whilst Draggka rolled her eyes.

“He don’t eat demons,” she said, taking her bow from her back and ignoring the look her scaly companion gave her. “Da Fel not be someting to eat.”

“Of course.” Khadgar nodded. “Though I’m sure I’ve seen an imp or two disappear into a mouth full of sharp, pointy teeth.” A silver eyebrow arched elegantly up the wizard’s face, and for a sudden moment, Draggka just wanted to plant a kiss on him. She resisted the urge, however, wondering how on Azeroth she had an attraction to human archmagi. The Loa must be having a laugh at her expense.

“I don’t know what you be talking about,” she said instead, raising her own eyebrow at him.

“Mmhmm.” Khadgar grinned a moment, before leading her down into the camp at a brisk jog. The guards tensed for a moment, but relaxed quickly, calling out to their comrades in a mixture of elven tongues that friends were approaching, referring to Khadgar by name.

“I will stay here and figure out our next move whilst you crush the Legion.” The mage said, glancing through the Illidari to find their commander. “It would be good to fight at your side again, but my magic would draw too much unwanted attention, and possibly alert the Legion to a great prize in the area. Or make it more urgent for them to claim it. So, alas, you will be on your own for this, I’m afraid.”

“As usual.” Draggka replied, sighing dramatically. “It be fine. I be used to being one of ya many heroes dat ya get to do all ya hard work.”

Khadgar gasped in an equally dramatic fashion, eyes wide with offence, resting a hand over his chest.

“How could you say such things? I work so hard, coming up with plans, and supervising you! You don’t understand the complexity, the thought involved-”

“Uh huh. Sure. It be so hard to be telling someone to kill demons.” The hunter grinned widely. The archmage gave her a look that basically said: 'there are a few choice things I’d like to do to you the next time we’re alone’.

Instead, he huffed loudly, gathering himself up to his full height and all but flouncing off.

“Next time, I’m going to ask Camdyn to come out on an expedition with me. She at least appreciates what I do.” He commented over his shoulder.

“She does? Are ya sure she not be just tolerating ya? Last time I be seeing her wit ya, she be looking like she were gonna see how far her hammer could send ya flying.” Draggka pointed out, jogging to catch up with him.

“I’m not listening to you, Huntmaster.” Khadgar talked over her. “The Highlord is a very good woman I have not upset at all, and she would appreciate my company. Unlike some trolls who will remain nameless.” Despite the act, he glanced at her to make sure she was still playing along, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips to match the one sparkling in his eyes.

“Wow. Ya so mean.” Draggka replied, trying for ‘hurt’, and failing completely. “Are all da Kirin Tor like dis?”

“In the old days, yes. Hopefully less so now.” Khadgar sobered suddenly, just in time for him to approach a blood elf Illidari supervising the front lines. “Kayn Sunfury, I presume?”

The black haired demon hunter glanced over them (or, at least, his head turned towards them, considering his blindfold). “Archmage Khadgar? Huntmaster? An unexpected surprise, and a welcome sight.” He nodded to the beach. “We pushed the demons out of the ruins, but they are stronger than any we have encountered before. Your help pushing them back is appreciated. If we don’t crush this invasion now, they will overrun Azsuna, and then the rest of the Broken Isles.”

“Agreed.” Khadgar nodded. “Whilst I unfortunately cannot aid you on the frontlines, the Huntmaster here can definitely assist you in shedding felblood.”

Draggka nodded, glancing over to the battlefield, and noting the lay of the water and sand dunes, Spike uttering a restless rumble.

“I be ready. If ya need me to do anyting out dere aside from killin’ demons, let me know.”

Kayn dipped his head slightly, due to the large curved horns on his head.

“When you’re out there, see if you can’t reactivate the sentry wards we set up on the outer defences. They’ll help keep the demons at bay. And I sent a team to scout the island opposite, who haven’t come back. Find them if you can; I have a suspicion something is going on here. Their leaders were Kor’vas Bloodthorn and Cyana Nightglaive; you’ll know them when you see them.” Kayn said, staring at Draggka with his glowing ‘eyes’.

“Alright.” Draggka bowed her head in an affirmative, not letting her unease about his stare show. “I be back soon.”

“Good hunting, Huntmaster.” Khadgar smiled, his blue eyes glimmering. “Give them hell.”

“Oh, I tink I can be doing dat.” The hunter grinned back, nocking an arrow to her bow and glancing to Spike. “Shall we?”

The raptor gave an eager roar, and they set off into the fray.

(Next chapter)

#draggka #khadgar #oc/khadgar #world of warcraft #legion au #sprs writing #otp: walk on the wild side #multipart fic #playful sassing #some world building sort of #is it world building if it's not my world?