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devnmon · 1 year

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TS-19

Chapter Nine: Written in My Stars

Summary: After a long day's ride, sanctuary is discovered. But not all is what it seems in their newly found safe haven.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Masterlist | Playlist

Chapter Warnings: descriptions of walkers/dead bodies, mentions of blood & needles, suggestive content, mentions of death, suicide, and lotsss of angst.

wc: 10.2k

A/n: This is the longest chapter of all s1 ahaha.. afraid to say they're just gonna get longer as I go on writing this fic. But... as season 1 concludes I'm ready to dive into writing season two when my semester ends, so it'll be a while before that happens. Enjoy this last chapter <33

The light penetrated your vision as it poured out from the large doorway. Gasps of disbelief were heard as Rick raced up to the entrance. The glass doors were heavy but when you pushed them open, a blast of cool air flooded your body.

"Hello?" Rick called into the building, the others spreading out as you all advanced into the building.

Upon first look, it was ominous. For one, the place was completely clean. There was no debris on the floor, no stench of rotting corpses, dead or alive, no blood anywhere to be seen. The high ceilings and windows only intimidated you further. Almost hidden behind Daryl's large figure, you followed him inside, bow drawn.

"Watch for walkers," someone spoke. There wasn't a chance your group would take a step further inside if even one of those dead freaks showed their faces. Where there's one, there's always more, and you knew the group wouldn't take that chance.

Frantic faces glanced about, searching for any sign to retreat out of the building.

How could this place still be standing?

Something was off about it, but you weren't sure what yet.

The unfamiliarity with what you'd seen in this building, versus what the outside world looked like, was unsettling. It concerned you more than the door even opening in the first place.

Clicking of a shotgun sounded from not too far away, your heart skipping a beat at the abrupt noise.

"Anybody infected?" A voice called out, holding a shotgun from down the hall. You didn't see the figure until you moved further into the lobby.

Holy shit. Maybe this is hope, you thought.

"One of our group was. He didn't make it." The sheriff stated, still holding his shotgun out as well.

"Do you see that guy?" you asked Daryl, walking to the side of him.

"Mhm.. don't know what he's got in store for us. But it'll do for now, that's for damn sure." He turned back to you, voice low but still in a mode of suspicion. You shot him a small smile and he turned back.

The man stepped closer, look on his face nervous, but you could tell he didn't want to have to shoot. None of you were infected, which changed his facial tone as he spoke again.

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

"A chance," Rick replied, out of breath from his yelling before.

"That's asking an awful lot these days."

Silence rang out as the unknown man's eyes trailed over every single one of you.

"You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission."

Rick nodded fervently, "We can do that."

"Once this door closes, it stays closed," The man said, walking towards Rick, his guard completely down at the moment. He rushed back with him, grabbing whatever bags were left in the vehicles, and entered the building again. As everyone rushes in, the blonde man swipes a keycard at the front entrance and states a command like he would to an assistant.

"Vi, seal the main entrance. Kill the power up here."

Who the hell is Vi?, you thought.

"Rick Grimes." The sheriff introduces himself to the blonde man.

"Dr. Edwin Jenner," he replied with shifty eyes.

Definitely suspicious, you thought to yourself. Shifty eyes, untrustworthiness, yeah. This guy's gonna have to convince me.

Jenner led you all to an elevator, where he let you all squeeze in, before pressing the lowest button of all levels.

Daryl, being the curious man he is, spoke up as the elevator ride turned to a cramped and silent one, "Doctors always go around packin' heat like that?"

He didn't trust good things like this often, always thought it was too good to be true. Though, Daryl was on his guard, ready to pierce an arrow through Jenner's skull if there was any sign of trouble.

"Well, there were plenty left lying around. Familiarized myself," he replied, looking back at all of you, "But you look harmless enough," he said, as he looked at Carl, "Except you. I'll have to keep my eye on you."

The boy smiled at his joke, making you smile a bit too. When you looked over at Daryl, his face was stoic, a version of his own mistrust his shield for the moment.

After piling out of the elevator, Jenner had you all walking down a long hallway. The place seemed like a maze, infinite doors and hallways you couldn't count. You and Daryl trailed behind everyone else, continuously marveling at the state of the place.

"Are we underground?" You asked, chest starting to tighten.

"You claustrophobic?" Jenner questioned, turning around as he walked ahead of the group.

"A little."

"Try not to think about it." He stated, turning back around.

Try not to think about it my ass, you thought, scoffing and continuing to walk with the group. The long hallway led to a massive room, filled with computers and one large screen on the wall.

"Vi, bring up the lights in the big room." Jenner's voice echoed out eerily, the clutter in the room not enough to mask the extensive shape of it.

There's that name again, Vi.

Daryl trudged into the room with you by his side, nervous at what was to come or what Jenner had in store for you all. As if on command, the room lit up with a ring of light hovering above all the computers.

"Welcome to Zone 5."

"Where is everybody? The other doctors? The staff?" Rick questioned, expecting more than just one man to be working at such an extensive place.

"I'm it. It's just me here." A moment of silence rang out as loud as the door opening had been, Lori breaking it with another question.

"What about the person you were speaking with? Vi?"

"Vi, say hello to our guests. Tell them, welcome."

The computer spoke, as if it had a mind of it's own.

Hello guests. Welcome.

You followed the Doctor down another hallway, as he brought you all to another room, one that looked like some sort of conference hall. Everyone took a seat against the wall or in one of the chairs.

"Sit tight, I'll be back with the equipment for everyone's blood tests." Jenner stated, before walking into another room off the one you were already all in.

"Ah shit, I hate needles," Daryl stated, taking a seat on one of the chairs. You scoffed at the irony of his statement.

"You're telling me big, bad Daryl Dixon is afraid of a little needle?" You inquired, turning to him as your weight flopped on the chair next to him.

"Didn't say I was scared, jus' said I didn't like 'em." He played with the strings of his bow as he replied. Sure, he'd been around needles before. But not in a medical context.

"Well, it's not that bad. Just a pinch, and if you're that bothered by it, don't look. That's what I do."

"You tellin' me you're scared of needles?" Daryl scoffed, realizing you two were more alike than he thought.

"All my life I've hated them, not shots at the doctor's, just whenever I needed an IV or blood drawn."

"Uh huh, we're the same then." He said, shrugging as he threw his head back on one of the seats.

"Guess we are." You sighed, doing the same.

Jenner came back into the room with several vials as well as other things he needed to take everyone's blood properly. He sat in the front of the room, as everyone watched the other's blood be taken. You went before Daryl, but he sat by your side, back turned to Jenner as he went on with drawing your blood. Once he finished, you turned to Daryl with a soft smile.

"See? Not so bad." He only grunted in response, taking the seat you'd been in a moment before.

A couple other group members took their turns, but when Andrea was in the seat, she had relentless questions.

"So, what's the point? If we were infected, we'd all be running a fever," Andrea stated from her seat across Jenner, as the vial filled.

"I've already broken every rule in the book letting you all in here. Let me at least be thorough." As soon as he was done, Jenner watched Andrea's light headed state take over, becoming light headed easily after barely any food. "Is she okay?"

"We haven't eaten in days, none of us have." Jacqui replied while helping Andrea sit. The look on his face had enough concern to fill an entire stadium, but he knew how to fix it.

Next thing you knew, you had been brought to a dining hall, sat next to the members of your group, shoveling food and booze into your mouth like there was no tomorrow.

A fit of laughter broke out amongst the people around you, relishing in the wine rushing through your system. Each bite of food was like heaven, filled with flavor and warmth that made you forget how abhorrent the world was outside the walls of the building. The euphoric tone it set for the group had Jacqui throwing her head back in a fit of laughter. You all seemed to be enjoying yourselves, food and drink coursing through your systems.

Your heart felt as full and content as it had once been, a long time before the world fell. It was a genuine, innocent time, one that couldn't be replicated or replaced. You were happy to just be caught in another moment like that after an extensive period without it.

When another fit of laughter broke out, it had been from Carl's reaction to the taste of wine. It brought tears to your eyes with how hard you were chuckling, smile lines beginning to ache from how big you had beamed from across the table.

Daryl noticed the shine from your smile from his seat, as he sat chugging the rest of his wine down.

You were chuckling loud enough for him to hear; he hadn't gotten to hear you laugh, genuinely and completely, ever. This was the first time he'd been lucky enough to do so. He stumbled, getting up to grab a fresh bottle.

"Why don't you stick to soda pop there, bud." Shane spoke.

"Not you Glenn," Daryl retorted, after grabbing another red wine bottle, walking back over to the table.

"What?" The dark haired man replied, cheesing so hard due to the buzz of alcohol in his system that his cheeks hurt.

"Keep drinkin', little man. I wanna see how red your face can get." He smirked, sitting back down at his seat. You burst out in a fit of drunken giggles yourself at Daryl's words. The alcohol in your system might have been distracting you from the horrors you'd seen the past few days, but to know you were there with these people you trusted made every torment wash away.

As you giggled to yourself, your eyes subconsciously found Daryl, sat across the table. His arms were poking out of that yellow plaid shirt, vest adorning his shoulders. His bicep muscles flex, moving ever so slightly, shaking your thoughts when you notice the group's conversation had died down a little.

Though Daryl's indulging himself thoroughly, he isn't blind to how Rick's gaze trails over to Jenner, sitting quietly and watching everyone around him in a corner. A moment later, Rick is clinking his glass and standing up.

"It seems to me, we haven't thanked our host properly."

"He is more than just our host," T-dog replied, raising his wine glass in a toast, causing you all to raise your glasses with him.

"Hear, hear!" Dale exclaims. The clinking of wine glasses overtook the man's words, as the others expressed their appreciation for him.

"Here's to you, doc. Booyah!" Daryl blurted out, the liquor in his system clearly taking over the usual grumpy attitude he always puts up.

It's got you giggling at him, again.

The laughter settles, and Shane starts to speak again. "So, when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc? All the uh- the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?"

Though, Rick is quick to retort, not wanting to ruin the wholesome moment the group had going.

"We're celebrating, Shane. Don't need to do this now."

"Woah, wait a second. That's why we're here, right? This was your move- supposed to find all the answers. Instead we- we found him. Found one man, why?"

His persistence pisses you off slightly, but the alcohol in your system is too overtaking to have the strength to snap back at him.

Jenner goes on to explain that the rampage of dead walking corpses drove some to up and leave the facility. They hadn't been thinking straight, just wanted to get home to their friends or loved ones and spend whatever time they had left with them. On the off chance that those people didn't leave, some couldn't face the outside world, dead people walking and whatnot. The sheer brutality of it all. Some chose to opt out, as he'd said, taking their own lives in the hallways to avoid letting the terror that walked the streets into their minds. He'd only stayed in hopes of doing some good with what work he continued.

Silence rang out in fault of Shane, for bringing it up during a nice moment.

"Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man."

You all cleaned up the space after eating, then ended up following Jenner down yet another hallway, one filled with rooms available to get some rest in.

If i have to sleep on another cot, I'd just die.

"The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage, if you'd like."

Oh, great.

The alcohol is running through your system at such a fast rate that your brain doesn't pick up anything else that Jenner says, until he mentions the showers.

"If you shower, go easy on the hot water."

"Hot water?" Glenn repeats, an overjoyed smile on his face now.

"That's what the man said.." T-dog replied, smiling as well.

He meets your eyes, his bright facial expression turning yours into one as you realize how long it's been since you've taken a shower.

"Oh, hell yeah."

Just the first glance at the shower stall makes a chill run up your spine. After all this time with your guard up in the world you lived in, letting it down for something as simple as a shower made you shudder. The clothes on your body felt welded to your skin, soaked with sweat and dirt and who knows what else, like a filthy dish towel.

In such a way, you hadn't removed your clothing to relax with something like this in so long. To be this unguarded again after so long intimidated you a bit. There was nothing comparable to the vulnerability of a shower.

Every birthmark, scar and mark on your body was still painted on your skin, only covered from a layer of grime, sweat and dirt that built up from the wear and tear of the outside world.

A rush of clean, fresh water fills the room, with the shower turning on. Mist floats onto skin with warm droplets, like spritz of a water spray. It's almost anticipatory, the image of you holding the shower curtain back. To have something this humane after so long felt unbelievable.

A hopeful tone is set as you enter the shower, stepping in with the water beginning to heat up. It hits your feet first, warming them so, that it tickles a bit. With just the flow of water, your mask of filth begins to wash from your skin.

The several months old nail polish was still coated over your toes, realizing how long it's lasted.

You step further under the flow of water, just the aroma of it closing your eyes in relaxation. With your head under the water, you stood silently for a few minutes in the peacefulness of it all. The liquid runs hot, goosebumps rising over your body at the contact. It's warm, familiar, something you haven't known since the world fell. Like a hug from a close relative. Safe.

Having something like this back after so long without it made the moment even more euphoric, as if you'd never be without it again.

When your eyes shoot open, droplets trailing down your lashes, you look to the couple of bottles placed on the shelf. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and an unused razor.

Even before the apocalypse, you hadn't found the desire for relentless hair removal in your top priorities. Sure, you shaved a few parts of your body, armpits and face at times, but didn't bother with your legs or anywhere else. Especially not when there were other things that deserved more attention in these times.

You weren't especially girly, either. Didn't grow fond of dresses or skirts, not even wedding gowns stood out to you. You'd been a tomboy all your life, no reason to change now.

Pouring some of the shampoo into your palms, you massaged it through the crown of your hair thoroughly, the contact of your fingers scratching your scalp heavenly. The shampoo and conditioner both were refreshing to the smell, its lathery substance washing from your hair. A lack of dirt and grime on your skin lifted your mood, still a little tipsy from your wine at dinner, but nonetheless it made you feel completely clean for once. Who knew if you'd have the chance to be this tidy again one day.

Raking fingers through your hair, you wrapped your body up in the one clean towel and changed into your other clothes for the night, a pair of sweatpants and big t-shirt. You packed up the filthy clothing from before and balled it up, throwing it in a different compartment of your duffel. Passing the others in their rooms from the hall, you'd been about to enter the room you were to share with Andrea for the night, only to walk in upon Dale sat beside her next to the toilet.

She'd gotten sick from all she drank, and he'd been comforting her.

"Hey, everything alright?" Dale turned to you at the sound of your voice, look of concern in his eye.

"She drank too much, got sick. On top of everything that she's gone through, overcompensating on the wine wasn't the best idea."

A groan comes from Andrea at his words, still knelt over with her hair pulled back. You refrained from speaking as Dale shook his head.

"Okay.. I'll just find somewhere else to stay, then. Feel better, Drea."

Walking back into the hallway, you tried to find another place to hole up for the night, duffel bag in hand. It wasn't till you reached the end of the hallway, that you spotted Daryl sitting in one of the rooms alone, fiddling with his crossbow. His muscles contracted with every movement, biceps unveiled as they had always been. His shoulders and neck were tense, you noticed, and his eyebrows were furrowed

What's causing your tense state, huh?

He hadn't looked up from his task, whatever it had been, until you knocked lightly at the door.

"Hey, Daryl?"

He finally looked up at the voice coming from the doorway, eyebrows releasing from their furrowed state as he met your eye.

"Oh, hey. wh'sup?" He slurred, still under the influence from wine he'd drank.

"I was supposed to stay with Andrea tonight, but she isn't feeling the best. Could I possibly bunk with you for the night? I'd like some company when I sleep. Don't wanna be alone." You leaned against the door now, droplets from your hair wetting your shirt just the slightest. Daryl was quiet for a minute, noticing the cleanliness of your skin and hair. It was a different look for you, one that showed you to him in a new light.

Chewing on his lip, he nodded with a low mhm, then continued working on his bow.

Walking into the room, you were suddenly hit with an awful scent that made you grimace. Placing your things down, you sat on one of the chairs in the room, while Daryl sat on a cot he'd taken from storage, shirt unbuttoned a bit as his angel wing vest hung on the back of a chair.

"Did you get a chance to shower yet?"

Daryl glanced up again.

It wasn't that he hadn't gotten the chance, it was that he didn't think he needed it. After all the time spent in the woods, covered in filth, he grew accustomed to it. It was comfortable for him, and he couldn't find anything else more safe. The energy of washing all the evidence of survival off his skin- he didn't have that. Daryl didn't want to lose that proof of survival, either. It was easier than wanting to clean himself. So he just didn't.

"Nah, let y'all go first. There prob'ly ain't no hot water left, neither."

Gaze back to his bow again.

Although his eyes wanted to trail back onto your figure, clean and freshly smelling as opposed to his, dirty and filth-ridden.

There's no way she'd go for you, baby brother.

Shaking his head lightly at the thought, he placed his bow down on the floor.

Your head tilted at his action, compassion in your eyes that he couldn't see you had for him.

"Well, I'm not gonna go to sleep until you shower." You said pointedly, getting him to look at you again. There was a smug look on your face, like you knew how to get under his skin.

"Don't. Ya need rest."

"C'mon! Take advantage of the hot water and soap like you did those two bottles of wine, Dixon."

"You're funny, but still no." He rummaged through his bag as if looking for something that wasn't there.

What is it with him? Why is he so stubborn that he's missing out on things that are good for him? Make him feel better?

You sighed, feeling the leather behind you on the chair, an idea popping into your head. Daryl was searching through his bag, so you grabbed the vest from the back of the chair. It was heavier than you thought it'd be, and stunk like cigarettes and motor oil. But it smelled like Daryl.

"Okay, well I didn't wanna have to resort to this." You stood, pulling his attention from the pack, "You've lost vest privileges, Mister Dixon."

"I've lost wha'?"

A confused look on his face turned to an annoyed one as you slipped the vest over your shoulders.

"Cut that shit, give it back. Now." He started to saunter towards you, but you stepped back slightly.

"It was on my chair, and until you shower, it's mine. I'm not staying in here all night if you're gonna stink up the place."

"Then go find somewhere else to sleep!" He yelled, throwing his arm in the air.

"Can't, rooms are all booked. No vacancy! Guess you're gonna have to listen to me after all."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "Don't do that. Seriously- y/n, give it back." He advanced closer to you, not threateningly, but starting to get irritated with you.

"Shower, and you get your precious vest back. Easy as pie." Shrugging, you inspected the vest as it weighed your shoulders down a bit.

"Nah. An' I don't even like pie."

"Ugh, you're so stubborn! Just listen to me, Daryl, a shower can do wonders for relaxation. You certainly need it."

He scoffed, "I am relaxed," eyebrows raising at your words, stepping back from you just an inch or so. His buff arms crossed over his chest, biceps flexing.

"Really? Cause the tension in your shoulders says otherwise." One of your hands rested on your hip now, the other clutching his vest in your grip.

"Stop it. Gimme-" Your hand yanked the vest away from his grasp as he leaned forward again, arm out to grab it from you.

"Daryl, is this about something else? You can tell me, you know." You met his eye, pausing him in his tracks. You knew there was something else, something he wouldn't let come to light, but he couldn't hide it now. Not after you specifically called him out for it. His gaze dropped to the floor before sighing and looking back at you.

"Don't you think this place is for real?" He took a seat on the cot again, shifting his weight and sitting hunched over his legs.

"How do you mean?" You asked, sitting down as well, dropping the vest back onto your chair.

"Like, do ya think we could survive in this place. I mean, there ain't no other doctors here, just Jenner, and I don't think he was tellin' us the whole truth. There's gotta be more to this whole place. I jus'.. don't trust him."

"Yeah, I wanna believe that we can. Daryl, I don't think he's gonna stab us in our sleep, if that's what you're assuming," you chuckled, "He's been kind and let us in, given us food, water, soap, alcohol? Why would he-"

"Exactly. He's given us all this stuff, even a place to sleep. Why would he waste all that shit on us? Cause Rick said we were desperate? Nah. There's gotta be more to it. We're nothin' special."

Nothing special? Me saving you from certain death was nothing?

"We're not?" You repeated, taken aback a little at his statement, "Cause I-I don't think people who are nothin' special survive a horde of walkers, let alone travel all the way here on basically nothing for a slim chance at survival."

How could he just push aside everything the group has been through? Did joining the camp really mean nothing to him? Did-

Did meeting you mean nothing to him?

"I didn't mean it like that. Ain't no society, no 'thing' to be anymore. We're all nobody. Shit went down the drain... day I saw a walker for the first time. Tha's when I knew we were never comin' back from it."

"Daryl, you can't think like that. You're not nobody to me, you're my friend. That makes you somebody. It makes me somebody, makes Rick somebody, Dale, Lori, Carl, even Glenn. This group makes us all somebody to each other, and if that's all we have, then so be it. We can make it through. No matter how long we're alive for. But we've gotta do it together."

Daryl sighed, sitting back against the wall. He went silent, contemplating everything you'd said, and his blue eyes glanced at you before sitting up again.

"Alright," he drawled, "Now, what's a man gotta do to get his vest back?"

A genuine laugh came from you, optimism light in the air for both of you, when he seemed to chuckle as well.

"Well, for starters, you can take that shower.." You mentioned again, a part of you wanting to see what Daryl looked like when he didn't have dirt and sweat plastered across his skin. You wanted to see how his biceps flexed every time he moved, wanted to feel them twitch as he lifted something heavy.

Woah. Has he always been so handsome?

Daryl scoffed, the slightest twinge of a smile making itself apparent on the apples of his cheeks.

"Fine."

He strode out of the room silently, giving you a few moments alone to collect your thoughts and get ready for bed.

Daryl walked down the hallway, passing each of the rooms everyone had settled in for the night. Once he found the showers, he slipped in and kicked off his boots at the door. Dirt cluttered out of the soles of his shoes, not realizing he'd been wearing them for so long.

He met his gaze in the mirror, shying away from his face to the dirt covering his arms and neck. To be quite honest, he did feel disgusting. But he owed it to you for convincing him to even think about showering, let alone doing it again after so long.

Slowly, he undid every button of his sleeveless flannel, tossing it onto the chair in the shower hall. He didn't dare turn around to look at his back, or memories from decades ago would come back to bite him in the ass.

He couldn't. Not now.

To pull himself away from going there, he thought about you, the soft image of you in your sweatpants and t-shirt, damp hair as well as your face illuminated by the lamp light. From what you looked like at camp, till now, was a way different image of you.

You seemed calm, content, okay, given the circumstances.

How he wished he could do the same.

Daryl found comfort in you, tried to hold onto it as best he could, without getting attached. If he did that, it would be over for him. He'd be pining away for the rest of his life.

There was just too much up in the air about Jenner for him to think straight, which almost pulled his focus from you, but he didn't.

Jus' relax for the night, dumbass. Worry 'bout that shit tomorrow.

He began undoing his pants, dropping them to the floor along with his belt. All his thinking about you made his boxers tighten, not becoming apparent to him until he looked down.

Fuckin' serious righ' now?

Stood in only his boxers now, he turned the shower head on. Daryl tried to ignore the confines of his boxers becoming tighter, and only when the water was hot enough did he strip himself from them, and step into the shower.

A low groan left him as the hot water covered the expanses of his body, trickling down the front of his torso, dampening his skin and the wiry hairs on his chest. When he pooled some of the shampoo in his hands and began washing it through his short hair, he squeezed his eyes shut, those pesky thoughts about you and your soft gaze only making it harder to focus on something that wasn't you.

The soft scent of his shampoo, how the water felt against his back.

Nope, nothing was stronger to distract him from the horrors of the outside world, other than you. His thoughts shifted from what you looked like in those clothes, to what you looked like without them. Though he hasn't seen all of your skin, he wished he'd have the privilege to see it one day. To have you in his bed, doing sinful things to make you feel good. To have you call out for him in the name of your pleasure.

Daryl.. Daryl... Daryl...

Your voice was the sweetest of all; behind your spitfire demeanor was that kind-hearted person he met in the woods that day. He knew from the day he saw you that he thought you were beautiful. Perfect, even. Like no one he's ever met before. Especially not someone he knew because of his brother.

How, he thought, how could someone like you become a person in his life? He thought he sure as hell didn't deserve it, someone kind willing to talk to him, be around him, listen to him talk?

Can't get attached.

The left over suds of shampoo trailed down his body, reminding him of the reason his boxers were tight. His gaze finally trailed down there, now apparent of how caught in a daze he's been over you.

Can't walk back in there with a hard-on, either... man, fuck it.

Daryl decided to indulge himself just this once.

Once, and it'll never happen again, he told himself.

The satisfaction washed over him when he'd finished entertaining himself over filthy thoughts of you. When that was gone, guilt came creeping over him like a devil on his shoulder.

Got no fuckin' right, thinkin' 'bout her like that. I got a better chance gettin' to the moon than ever gettin' them. She don't want some redneck trash deadbeat Dixon.

As he turned the water off, he stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel hanging on the wall. He dried himself accordingly, draping it over his shoulders as he pulled on his dirty clothes he'd tossed to the side before. Steam from the hot shower clouded the mirror, walking up to it again.

He looked different, soaking wet hair, face bare of dirt or sweat or walker blood. All of the sudden, he felt his eyelids droop just the slightest bit.

Guess the shower did somethin' right, can't wait to hit the sack now.

He trudged back to the room he shared with you, where he saw you sat with a book in your hands. First glance at you like that made his heart drop, thinking you'd found his journal, was reading all of his intimate thoughts, broken his trust. But no.

You'd picked out one of the books in the recreational room, which Jenner mentioned was full of games and books for anybody's use. Once you'd spotted the shelf of classic literature, you couldn't help yourself.

The place had every story you could imagine, Emma by Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, even The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Safe to say you grabbed a couple of the ones you were familiar with, and one or two you hadn't read. You started with Of Mice and Men, but stopped when you remembered the ending.

Although once you picked up The Great Gatsby, you couldn't put it down. It was one of those novels that made you want to live in the 1920's, just for the fashion. Flappers and the massive growth in modernization always fascinated you. Prohibition, though, never seemed ideal.

Before you headed back to your room, you thought on what Daryl had said about not trusting Jenner. He was right, in a sense. Jenner wasn't telling the whole truth, and there was no knowing what else he'd been hiding about the place. It all seemed eerie, but you remembered to bring it back up to Daryl before you both fell asleep.

You'd been reading silently, when you heard the familiar thump of Daryl's boots down the hall. Everyone else had turned in for the night, hallway dimly lit by other sources.

"Welcome back, wow you smell exquisite." You laughed, peeking up from the book in your hands.

"Pfft, stop." Daryl sat back onto his cot, blanket splayed across it. He hadn't known how to start conversations properly, especially not after doing what he just had in the shower. Thinking about you in a way he shouldn't have.

His flannel was unbuttoned, tiniest sliver of his torso visible, falling further apart as he leaned back. It began to pull back further, but you stopped looking before getting caught.

Get your head out of the gutter.

"Feeling relaxed, now?"

He chewed on his lip silently, giving you a low mhm, as he shoved off his boots onto the ground, kicking his feet up on the cot. The hairs on his chest were slight, but still visible.

"So, I've been thinking about what you said. About Jenner." You closed the book over on your thumb, Daryl lifting his head from the pillow.

"You were right, we can't trust him. He's shady, and probably hiding more things than we thought. We gotta grill him for info, tomorrow or something. It's the only way we'll get the truth. You know?"

"Don't know if Rick would be cool with it.. much less anyone else. But we are gonna find out what he ain't tellin' us. I can promise ya that."

"Good enough for me," you said, standing up and placing the book on the couch, "Alright, well I'm gonna go brush my teeth. Carol stopped by while you were in the shower and gave you and me toothbrushes and toothpaste. Swear I've never been so ecstatic in my life."

You chuckled before leaving the room, slight smile on Daryl's face, one you couldn't see. One he wished for you to see. One he grew a liking to plastering across his face because of you.

Groaning, he laid back on his cot, before realizing he hadn't journaled yet today. A hand darted out to his pack, shifting through his belongings to find another shirt for him to wear, and his journal.

Day nine

Somehow we made it to the CDC. It looked like another dead end at first, bodies scattered all over the place. Some doctor let us in, Jenner. Y/n rode with me the whole way on my bike. I think she sees me, like really sees me. Strange, feelin' like someone cares about me for who I am. Never expected that from anyone, not even her. She's stupid to care about me, and I aint no good, neither. Spent the night eatin' real dinner and drinkin' real booze with the group. Thought the night would conclude with me passin out drunk. Then y/n asked to stay with me. She would'a stayed with Andrea, but since she wasn't in the best place, she came to me instead. Even convinced me to shower. Weird how much she affects me already. Rubbed one out jus' thinkin' about her. Fuckin' dumb thing to do. I ain't got no right feelin' that way about her. She's a friend, never gon' be anythin' more.

With that, he closed the journal, tossing it back into his bag and replacing his older shirt on his body with a somewhat clean one before you came back. Daryl attempted to get himself to actually relax, and once his head hit the pillow, the same fatigue that washed over him in the bathroom returned to his head.

Though he was laying to face the wall, he heard the slight pitter patter of your feet approaching the room from down the hall. You entered silently, closing the door and shutting off the light.

Silence was present in the room, and he thought you'd passed out, until you heard you speak.

"You're a good man Daryl. You may not see it, but I do. I don't know what you've been through, but whatever walls you put up, you'd better think about taking them down."

That was the last thing he heard before drifting blissfully off to sleep.

The next thing Daryl could focus on was a splitting headache, one he'd gotten from his lovely two bottle of wine drunk. Relentlessly, he tried to make it go away, but sleep didn't come as easily as it once had. His instinct was to get up and turn on the light, but paused when he remembered you were in the room with him. If he turned the light on, you'd wake up and lose some of your rest that you very much needed.

Daryl's hand darted out from the covers to his pack, grabbing the flashlight and his journal from it as he stood from the cot. Cracking the door open, there was a small source of light coming from down the hall. Once he clicked his flashlight on, he began striding down the hall.

He came across the rec room, void of any people. One of the clocks read 4am, which meant he'd been asleep for about 4 hours at most. Once he sat, he opened another page to his journal and started a new entry.

Day eleven

It's 4 am. Only know cause there's a clock in this rec room. Had to take a walk. Made me feel like shit for leaving y/n alone when she asked for company while she slept. I'm gon' go back, just needed a minute to clear my head. I don't completely trust Jenner, he's hiding something. Definitely more to what he told us. I've been tryin to keep these people safe best I can, so if there is something else goin on here, I've gotta find out. Don't wanna lose any more people. Can't. Won't. Them undead pricks won't stop me. Won't stop us. I'll do whatever it takes, for this group.

Once he'd finished, he shut the book and headed back to the room to find you still asleep on the couch. Sleep washed over him a while after he laid down again.

The rough knock on the door was loud enough to shake you from your slumber, reading the clock in the room that said 8:45. Daryl snored lightly from across the room, chest lifting with each breath. He looked peaceful, laying under the covers of his cot like it was the best sleep he'd gotten in years.

You wondered what it would be like to actually wake up next to him in the mornings, brush the hair from his face and leave a soft kiss on his cheek before rising for the day.

But you couldn't, and you thought you never would.

You rose silently, letting the archer catch a few more minutes of rest while you put on clothes for the day, and slipped your boots on again, brushing your fingers through your hair to calm some of your bedhead. The mirror on the wall helped, as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. You remembered to pack both toothbrushes and toothpaste from the previous night, before walking over to Daryl, fast asleep on his cot.

"Hey, psst. Daryl," You poked his chest once, twice, three times before his eyes fluttered open.

"Wha-"

"C'mon, they're making breakfast. I can smell that bacon from all the way in here. Maybe we can find out what Jenner's keeping a secret today, too."

He groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, still half asleep. You glanced at him from where you stood by the mirror, he looked adorable, even in his drowsy state. You noticed the darker color shirt he was wearing, the top buttons undone, chest hairs visible. You could've sworn you saw a tattoo poking out from his left pec.

Before you could stare any more, his eyes opened fully, pulling himself off the cot. His pants were unbuttoned, a sliver of his boxers visible as he stood. You tore your eyes away from him, although you wanted to look more.

Daryl cleared his throat, buttoning his pants as you combed your hair in the mirror. He walked towards you, turning back to him.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

The door opened, light beaming from the hallway. Some of the group had already exited their rooms, hearing their chatter from down the hall. The two of you walked into the room you had all ate in the night before, smell of bacon and eggs filling the place.

"Eggs, powdered, but I do 'em good." You hear T-dog say, walking over with a pan in his hand. "Protein helps the hangover."

Glenn, on the other hand, is sat upright, head in his hands, groaning loudly for everyone to hear.

"Morning, everyone." You stated, taking a seat next to the dark haired man, Daryl sitting next to you. A few others said good morning back, others too caught up in their hangovers to speak. Rick looked about as bad as Shane did, but not as terrible as Glenn looked.

Lori glanced up at you, her eyes shifting to Daryl as you took a plate and served yourself, "Eventful night?"

"What? No- I just read some books and went to sleep." You chuckled, trying to break the awkward tension floating in the room.

Rick picked up a pill bottle from the table, asking Lori about it, responding with, "Jenner thought we could use it. Some of us, at least."

"Ugh, don't ever, ever, ever let me drink again."

The group conversed lightly as everyone woke up, sipping their coffee and eating their meal. You stood to grab some coffee as Jenner walked in.

"Morning."

"Hey, doc."

You saw Andrea nod to Dale, turning towards Jenner in his chair.

"Doctor, I don't mean to slam you with questions first thing-"

"But you will anyways."

"We didn't come here for the eggs," Andrea states.

Jenner brought you to the same big room again, standing in front of the screens while he spoke a command to the computer: Give me playback of TS-19.

Displayed on the monitor was the playback he requested, closing in on an internal view of a brain, along with other pieces of data. Jenner demonstrates that the lights flowing through a much closer-up image, was someone's life; their experiences, memories, thoughts- it was everything. He continued rambling on about the test subject, someone who was infected by a bite, but volunteered to have the process recorded for research.

Scanning to the first event per his request, the playback began to display the doctor's research, as the lights in the brain began to flicker rapidly, fading to darkness quickly after. Solemn expressions plagued the room upon hearing Jenner's analyzation of the infection's course.

A moment later, he scans to the second event, playing back on the monitor the same as it had before.

What Jenner calls resurrection points reveals itself to be that moment of reanimation you'd watched in Amy, two days prior, not to mention the individuals you saw on the road before finding your group.

The same brain flickers with red light, hearing that it restarts the brain stem, only lasting a few seconds before its termination occurred. You and Daryl shared a confused look, silence ringing out loud enough to hear a pin drop.

Andrea puts two and two together and questions Jenner yet again, only this time it's on account of not having a clue as to what the virus is.

"There has to be somebody who knows something. Somebody, somewhere.."

"I've been in the dark for almost a month, but I hear France was the longest to hold out. But that's as far as I know."

That was the moment your heart dropped. You inhaled sharply, losing the grasp you had on any hope left.

"Man, I'm gonna get shitfaced drunk, again."

At that point, you might as well have joined him, if there really was nothing left anywhere in the world. It was all gone.

Your vision filtered out of focus, room beginning to spin as you lost any strength you had in your legs, as your body hit the cold marble floor.

It felt as if a moment passed where your eyes were fluttering open, attempting to push yourself up with the help of your forearms. Your head pounded, each voice muffled as you went to grasp at your head that was now throbbing in agony.

As the aching settled a moment later, you were finally able to clear your foggy vision on the person crouching before you, Daryl.

"You alright?"

"I- uh, what happened?"

"You fainted, sure ya not still drunk?"

"N-No, just-"

The recollection of what you had just been told by Jenner became apparent in your mind, the horror flooding through your head once more.

"There's nothing left, is there?" Your voice weakened, not sure whether to be bothered with the way four of the group's men just ran out of the larger room in a panic.

"C'mon, lemme get ya back to the room, 'kay?"

Nodding, he pulled you up, draping your arm across his shoulder with your head still pounding. Daryl brings you to the couch you'd slept on the night before, as he lets you sit down on it.

"You think Jenner was serious? About there being nothing-" You inhaled again, unsettled feeling coating your stomach at the thought.

Daryl stood chewing on his thumb, now pacing back and forth, "Ain't sure, 'specially not with the way he went quiet." His pacing became aggressive, grabbing the bottle of whiskey on the ground that he'd apparently put near his cot the night before.

Your conversation was cut short after hearing a commotion about the air shutting off in the rooms.

Why is the air off?

What's going on?

Voices echoed from outside the room, Daryl peeking out of it with the bottle still in his hand. Jenner was the one being questioned relentlessly by the members of your group as he treaded down the hallway.

Why's everything bein' turned off?, you hear Daryl say as Jenner walks right by him and swoops the bottle of liquor from him, taking a swig. He follows Jenner out the door, quickly rising from the couch to follow him and the rest of your group on the quest for answers.

Energy use is being prioritized, he replied, admitting to not having any control over the building's programming. Zone 5 is shutting itself down.

Daryl's frustrated state grows with annoyance, fed up with the doctor's vague answers and wanting some real ones.

"Hey, what the hell that mean, huh? Man, I'm talkin' to you! What'd you mean it's shuttin' itself down? How can a building do anything?"

"You'd be surprised."

Another vague answer.

The computers were programmed to be the very last thing kept running until the power grid shut down completely, beginning at the half hour mark of a digital clock with large red numbers, counting down the minutes.

What the fuck... what happens at zero..

"Let me tell you something-" Shane bolts towards Jenner but Rick stops him before he can get any closer to the doctor.

"To hell with it, Shane. Lori, get our things- everybody, get your stuff, we're getting out of here, now!"

That was the sign you'd been scared of getting, one that meant retreat in the most devastating way. Heart racing, you all turned for the door, until a loud alarm sounded out, startling you even more.

Thirty minutes to decontamination, the computer played out.

"Doc, what's going on here?" Daryl yelled, straining his own throat at the looming unknown of what was to come in those thirty minutes.

Suddenly, the hallway you'd been heading towards was being blockaded by an automated door, and by the looks of it, there was no getting through it.

"Did he just lock us in?" Glenn spoke, "He just locked us in!"

Anger overtook Daryl in a wave, throwing himself towards Jenner with every intention of beating his face into the ground, only to be ripped away from the chance, getting pushed away from him getting any closer.

"I told you, once that door closed, it wouldn't open again. You heard me say that."

"It's better this way."

"What is? What happens in 28 minutes?!" Rick questioned incessantly, standing a few feet away from the doctor.

Jenner had gone off on one of his rambling tangents again, only this time it was in a fit of rage, attempting to make the group realize why this place was built the way it was.

"In the event of a catastrophic power failure, H.I.T's are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."

"H.I.T's?"

"Vi define-"

H.I.T's: high-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives.

It continued on to state how they'd be set off as the timer runs out, lighting the air on fire with its two step process. Gasps of horror and cries filled the air as the computer had all but handed you each a death sentence on a silver platter.

A chill rushed down your spine at the realization: every single one of you was going to die.

No chance of survival desired by the effect the explosives had promised. They would set the air on fire.

Some of the group clutched their loved ones in their arms desperately, while others only stood around, any hope they still held washing away from their expressions.

We're all going to die here, you thought. There's nothing left, anywhere. We were doomed from the start. How could we be so stupid? So ignorant? So filled with hope and determination to make the world better for us, to survive, when there's nothing out there that could fix this? Nothing that could make it better?

Any hope you'd still clung onto was pooling out of your body in a pile of unseen ambitions and delusions you'd foolishly looked forward to for the future.

Daryl's anger only burned, a forest fire that only grew larger with every time he yelled out for the doctor to open the door. You sat crouched against a wall, huddled with the rest of your group that wasn't doing everything they could to release the door.

We're fucked. We're so fucked.

"You should've left well enough alone. It would've been so much easier." Jenner stated, the men still throwing themselves at the door.

No, no, no. This doesn't make anything easier.

"Easier for who?" Lori spoke, offended with his words that were so clear of an attempt to pull you all back from this realization.

"All of you. You know what's out there-a short, brutal life, and an agonizing death."

His words, although speaking from a scientist's point of view, began to sink in, but not in a way that sent death to your door terrifyingly.

The words of your group members were muffled, focusing on your heart beating so infuriatingly fast, until you heard: Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher.

The next words you heard were the heated ones coming from a familiar voice.

"Well, your head ain't!"

You glanced up from your lap, viewing how Daryl threw himself at the doctor, once more getting pushed away from the man before inciting violence on him.

There's always hope, you heard Rick say, Maybe not here, but somebody, somewhere-

No, there's not. Not anymore, you mumbled to yourself.

Within his rage, Daryl managed to take a few deep breaths, eyes trailing over to where you sat. His focus changed from the situation at hand to the frail state of your body, legs pulled to your chest and hands shaking with every move they made.

"What part of everything is gone do you not understand?"

This is our extinction event.

After an outburst from Shane resulting in him shooting several of the computers, then Jenner, with a shotgun, you only felt more despair fill your chest. It made you raise from the floor in fear of getting run over. The state of everything had already converted people to such evil, why would you want to live in a world like that?

"I think you're lying."

"What?"

"You're lying about no hope. If that were true, you'd have bolted with the rest, or taken the easy way out. You didn't. You stayed when others ran. Why?"

"Not because I wanted to. I made a promise," Jenner stood from his chair at Rick's questioning, pointing to the monitor, "To her. My wife. She begged me to keep going as long as I could. How could i say no?"

Bang.

Daryl was at the indestructible door again, sending blows down on it with an axe.

"She was dying."

Bang.

"It should've been me on that table."

Bang.

"I wouldn't have mattered to anybody. She was a loss to the world."

Bang.

"Hell, she ran this place. I just worked here. She was an Einstein. Me, I'm just Edwin Jenner."

"Your wife didn't have a choice. You do. That's- that's all we want- a choice, a chance."

"Let us keep tryin' as long as we can," Lori stated, with Carl in her arms. The tone in her voice made you break a little, but there was no changing what your fate had decided.

"I told you, topside's locked down. I can't open those." Jenner walked past Rick and the others to another computer, swiping a keycard and pressing a few buttons on a pad with numbers.

Just like that, the door opened.

Daryl was the first one to yell out, being he was closest to the door.

"C'mon!" He started out the door, but entered again when he realized you hadn't followed.

You felt empty, the fight for hope dwindled to just ashes, somewhat like and end to the blazing fire of life, living, surviving. The whole world was gone, and there was nothing to be done about it. All the feeling from your chest faded away.

"I'm grateful."

"The day will come when you won't be."

Gasps and desperate yells sounded out from the group, alerting the group of their one passageway out of the building. While everyone grabbed onto each other, you stood in place.

Glancing around the room through tear-brimmed eyes, you noticed not everyone had bolted out the door, either.

Jacqui and Andrea stayed in place as well.

"Y/n! What're you doing? Let's go!" He bolted towards you, only watching as he approached with a solemn face.

"I-I can't. You go."

"Wha- n-no. I ain't lettin' ya. 'M not just leavin' you here."

"Yes, you are, Daryl."

She's not in her right mind, the coercion of Jenner's words had gotten to you, he thought.

"Hey! we've got four minutes left! C'mon!" Glenn yelled out, still stood by the door with Carl and a few others, as Lori pulled Rick out the door.

T-dog tried to bring Jacqui with him, only to be shoved away.

"No, I'm staying. I'm staying, sweetie. I'm not ending up like Jim and Amy. There's no time to argue, and no point if you wanna get out."

"Just go." You whispered, walking a few steps from Daryl.

How could he tell you why you dying would be the worst thing that would happen to him? It would rip him apart, piece by piece until he only became a shell of himself.

"I can't, you know I can't. I'm not leavin' you here." He only followed after you, not having the right words to say to you in a hopeless time like this. "You were the one that told me there was hope, remember?"

"Daryl-" you started again, kicking at the debris on the ground.

"Nah. Listen to me. I ain't goin' if it's not with you."

"You're insane," you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest.

"And you're not? Come on, there's always somethin' to fight for. Just gotta find it. How can ya if you ain't with us? We're gonna do it, make the world better. If we can't do anythin' about the geeks, we can only do it in spite of 'em."

Your eyes glimmered with fear, but he could've sworn he saw a light of hope, so he continued.

"You can find somethin' new to fight for, I swear on my fuckin' life. I can't-" Daryl sighed, "I can't lose you. I won't. You mean too much to me. You're my only friend, the hell 'm I gonna do with you gone? If you're not around, I got nothing to fight for. Nothin'."

Daryl's voice broke amidst the other conversations.

That was the moment his eyes met yours, flicking to light the fire of survival in you once again. Tear filled eyes met his, pulling him in for an embrace, and against his skin, you whispered.

"Okay. Let's go."

With that, you both ran for the doorway, pushing the ticking clock of death away with every patter of your footsteps. Eventually, you'd gotten to the front of the building, where the rest of your group was figuring out how to exit the building. Glenn spotted you and Daryl coming closer towards them all, a slight smile on his face.

Their methods of getting the window's glass to break had failed, until Carol rushed towards Rick, pulling something from her bag.

A grenade.

Once he got close enough to the glass, he pulled the pin, urging everyone to step back to be guarded from the blast. You all but threw yourself far enough away, hearing the effect of the blast shatter the glass with a loud boom.

You all dashed out of the window, spotting the vehicles down the road from where you'd parked them. Walkers had heard the blast and began to approach, only to be taken down by bullets from your group. Once you reached Daryl's bike, you looked back at the building one last time, before it was blown to pieces.

Two figures emerged from the broken window, Andrea and Dale.

You heard Lori yell from the RV to get down, both you and Daryl crouching behind the Winnebago before the blast rang out.

All you heard a few seconds later was the massive explosion of the building, along with a wave of heat that radiated all the way over to you all. Daryl panted, looking at you before hopping on his bike, starting the engine. Hopping on behind him, the engines of each vehicle sounded out, as they began to drive away.

You clutched onto Daryl's torso as the bike engine began, shuddering breaths filling your chest. Before he began driving, you tapped his shoulder.

"Daryl, thank you for getting me out of there. You're right, I do have something to fight for."

His eyes lightened, nodding before pulling his weight off the ground and driving the bike away from all the wreckage.

You'd found something- better yet someone to fight for, and it happened to be the very archer your arms wrapped around.

You chose to fight for him, of all things.

Just as hard, he'd chosen to fight for you.

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ackerfiction · 11 months

Note

Hello, should I request a new canon! Levi x Wife-Princess! Reader - where reader finds a death treath of plans to assassinate her, and she confide her fears to Levi who was shocked, angry and at the same time protective over her, while comforting her that's everything is going to be okay.

You can do what you want, and thank you so much <33

Y/N ruffled through the papers, having bumped into a MP and dropping them all over the floor, she was keen to ensure she had all of her and Levi’s letters. She rifled through, eventually stopping at an envelope with the seal of Marley Officials. She slid the papers out of the envelope, unfolding it carefully. Why was it open? Her eyes widened as she read the words on the page, a gasp escaping her lips.

Jackson,

As you know, Ackerman is our biggest threat. As discussed, the best way to get him out of the field is Y/N. It has been decided that we no longer intend to hold her hostage, but to exterminate her.

Given her position in the Royal Family, we believe it was also significantly weaken Paradisian forces. Meet with our agent tonight, draw the Princess out as discussed. We will have her and bring down the Devils.

-K

“Are you okay?” Levi looked up from his cup, the steam curling in the air. Y/N’s face was pale, hands shaking. He stood, taking the letter from her hands.

His face darkened.

“Levi, what do I…” She swallowed, the lump in her throat too painful to continue.

“You go tonight. You play along.” The look on his face was one of legend, the look of a man enraged by the loss of those he loved. Only seen a handful of times before. It was the look of a man out for blood.

Y/N took a breath, she’d noticed one of the MP’s staring at her all day, shadowing her every move. She kept her hands in her pockets, palms sweaty.

“Hey.” Levi had taken her head in her hands, pressing a small kiss to her lips, “I won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me.” She nodded and his softness melted, “I can’t promise the same to those shits though.”

She played his words over and over in her head, as the MP approached her, a smile and a letter in hand.

“Your Highness.” He bowed, extending his hand with the letter, “I am sorry, I believe I have accidentally picked up one of your envelopes in this mornings mix up.” She steeled herself, Levi was trained for this, and while she wasn’t, he would protect her. He never failed her and he wouldn’t now.

She reached for the letter. The MP grabbed her wrist, pulling her into him. Y/N became alarmingly aware of how empty the hall was. “To the roof.” She felt his breath on her neck, the point of a knife on her back. “Scream and you die. Take one step away and you die.”

She obeyed. Her heart raced, pounding harder with every step. Tears threatening to spill with every person they passed. She forced a smile, nodding politely.

They reached the roof, the MP closing and barring the door behind them. He pushed her towards the edge. She whipped around, where was Levi? He should be here and yet- it hit her. She really was alone. The wind whipped her hair in her face, her legs weak. She prayed he would kill her quickly, was falling or bleeding faster? No. A cut to the neck was. She knew that much. Trust me. She fought to trust Levi, but where was he?

“You.” The MP stepped forward, “You are a catch, I can see why Levi likes you.” He chuckled, “Shame such a pretty body has to go to waste. Such a shame that the Princess would rather jump from the roof than be with her husband.”

“Think again, Dipshit.” A blast of gas, wires reeling in. Before either of them could move, Levi appeared in the air, Y/N felt relief flood her. He landed between the pair, scouts landing either side of the MP. Horror flashed across his features as Levi stepped forward. “Did you really think you would be able to hurt her under my watch?” He asked, “Pathetic.” He glanced back at Y/N, “I think we should send something back in the post, don’t you? A finger maybe.” The MP began to scream as he was dragged off of the roof and down the stairs. Levi turned to Y/N, she ran into his arms, tears of relief flowing.

“I told you.” He pushed her hair out of her face, eyes softening, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” She asked, Levi let out a breath.

“Don’t you worry about it. Just know that I will never leave you in danger, I will go to the ends of the earth for you. Nobody will ever hurt you.” He held her for a moment longer. “I promise.”

#levi #aot #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi aot #levi x reader #snk #snk levi #snk fanfiction

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spinningwebsandtales · 1 year

Text

Imagine Protecting John and Saving Koji’s Life

Koji Shimazu X FemReader

Rating: M

Warnings: Blood, mentions of death, injuries, slight spoilers, and AU-ish

Word Count: 895

Requested by @severusmanit0-0

(A/N:) It feels so good to be writing again and I was really excited to write this one as I love a good AU. Cause sometimes we fangirls have to make matters into our own hands and make everything right with the world once more! Thank you for your request and I really hope this is everything you hoped for! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Koji placed the list into your hand, his gaze unwavering as your lip trembled. Your yukata was suddenly too stifling as you tried to make Koji change his mind.

“Koji please don’t send me away,” your lip trembled.

He shook his head, “The hotel needs these supplies if we’re going to continue forward.”

“Is one friendship really worth your life and possibly the life of your daughter?”

He sighed, embracing you tightly and gently, “Sometimes you have to do what’s right not matter the cost. Akira can take care of herself and I’ve already told her what to do. John has been an important friend in my life for a very long time. I cannot turn my back on a friend, it’s against my very code.”

You sniffed holding onto him tightly, “You were always a sucker for a good sob story.”

He chuckled, kissing your cheek, and sent you on your way.

Walking through the downtown market of Osaka, trying to maintain a calm and cool demeanor. After working for Koji several years in the hotel, he had trusted you enough that he sent you on purchasing all the hotel’s supplies. Most of the time he came with you and you both would enjoy time in doing whatever the city had to offer. It let you both forget the secretive business it seemed like you both were born into. But now you were alone, knowing something bad was coming and he sent you away to protect you.

You were talking with the local fishermen when you heard talk of a commotion happening at the Osaka hotel. You abandoned your mission and fled back to the hotel you called home and the man you had come to love. You ran as fast as you could, trying to dodge people blocking the way when you finally had the hotel in sight. You could hear the fighting from outside and when you burst through the front doors, chaos had erupted in the lobby of the Osaka. Koji and his men going against the High Table thugs there to kill John Wick. Koji caught sight of you and his shoulders sagged in defeat. Of course he couldn’t keep you away as you felt like you owed him so much. He jerked his head towards the ceiling, his meaning perfectly clear. You gave a nod in acknowledgement as you unsheathed the Tanto you kept hidden in your yukata. You pulled the ties keeping your robe together to reveal the armored bodysuit underneath and a pistol strapped to your thigh. One last look at Koji and you were sprinting ready to go to John’s rescue. A High Table man broke away to pursue you when Koji stepped in his way, keeping him from you.

“Your fight is with me,” he snarled.

You fought savagely through the High Table men before you found John. Blood drenched your hands as you fought with John back to back. You saw Akira holding her own against her own enemies and your heart swelled in pride. Using Koji’s instructions and fighting hard and long John was finally able to make his way to the streets and escape his death once more. You breathlessly looked around as Caine had also disappeared. Your heart dropped when you noticed Akira gone as well. Racing through the blood soaked rooms, littered with the bodies of friend and foe alike you knew exactly where Koji and Akira would be.

The sight before you made your blood freeze. With Akira at the side, unable to interfere Koji sat on the steps, bleeding profusely from several cuts. He and Caine had yet to notice your entrance in the room. You gripped your Tanto tightly, watching everything mentally begging Koji to stand down. But his pride would not let him. Your heart clenched seeing him pursue the blind assassin. Caine was beginning to swing, to take the life of Koji when you leapt into the fray. Your Tonto taking the brunt of the blow, causing your arms to give a little but you kept your grip strong and put yourself before Koji protecting him from his certain demise.

“Enough,” you pleaded. “Don’t let pride and duty make you kill one another!”

Akira melted in relief as you refused to back down until Caine stepped away. You kept Koji from stepping forward anymore, before he collapsed from his injuries.

“Live,” Caine replied softly before turning away and disappearing from your sight.

You held on tightly to the man that had once saved your life and now you were able to repay him by saving his. Though he was ready to throw himself away for his ideals, you couldn’t let him. It wasn’t fair for him to die in front of his daughter so soon. You kissed his forehead gently, keeping pressure upon the knife wounds.

“Thank you,” he whispered holding tightly to your arm and his daughter’s hand.

“Just repaying the favor I’ve owed for awhile,” you laughed trying to fight the tears.

“You already did that a long time ago,” he replied.

With Akira’s help you were able to get Koji back to the doctors within the hotel where he was patched up and left to heal as long as he needed to. Though your debt finally cleared, you still remained to live out whatever life you had left with Koji and Akira.

#Koji Shimazu X Reader #Koji Shimazu / Reader #Koji Shimazu #John Wick #John Wick Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing #Request

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yanderes-galore · 2 years

Note

For a event request, could you do prompts 11 and 30 for 2012 parasitica!Leonardo?

Yes! More Parasitica! This is perfect for the event! Aged up, of course. This is sort of an AU based off the parasitica episode.

Yandere! Parasitica! Leonardo Prompts 11 + 30

(Halloween Event - Parasite)

Pairing: Romantic

"I'd crush their heart in front of you if it meant you'd only love me!"

"Those lasting marks are signs of our love!"

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stalking, Blood, Saliva, Biting, Disgusting descriptions, Feral behavior, Animalistic behavior, Implied death or infection.

You lost your friend the day he found that mutant wasp egg. He was no longer the turtle you once knew and cared for. After the attempt to isolate him failed, he had gotten loose in New York.

It was up to you and the rest of the turtles to try and find Leo. A task that soon proved to be harder than you thought. Leonardo was fast, agile, and feral like a wild animal.

It was impressive as to how he was not caught yet.

A growing fear you shared with Leo's brothers was him infecting anyone else. Then you all couldn't tell how many of those parasitic zombies there were. It was a race against the clock to track down the rogue turtle, leading to you coming up with the plan to split up.

"Alright, you all can track people well due to being ninjas. Try searching different areas of New York. April will help keep track of where everyone is, while I stay on the ground to look for any odd behavior."

Admittedly, it was a dangerous plan. Yet New York's safety was at stake and you'd be risking too much time by staying together. It was a risk you had to be willing to take....

For the most part, it worked. Just not in the way you expected. Leonardo had been drawn out of whatever hiding spot he was in, by you.

Quickly, you grab the T-Phone Donnie gave you and radio him in. You heard growling from around you and wanted to be safe. At the crackle of Donnie's voice on the reciever, you heard a hiss.

"Donnie. I believe I've found Leo. Come to my location, quick."

"On it, please be careful!"

You turn around quickly after cutting off the call. Somewhere around he was Leo, the issue was figuring out where. Another hiss comes from the shadows, making you back away.

"Oh, Leo... if you are there please be merciful-"

Leonardo had been following your scent. Even in his parasite driven mind he still cared for you. As endearing as that sounds, it mostly creeped you out.

Green drool drips onto your shoulder from above, causing you to jump back. You yelp softly at the sticky substance before Leonardo jumped down from wherever he was perched. Those clouded black eyes stared into your soul....

"(Y/N)..." He growls, not once looking away from you.

"Look, Leo, don't do this-"

"You're working with them, aren't you?"

"Who?"

"Those enemies of the egg. You're aiding them in finding me... you know we can't have that, right?"

"I want you to stay right there, Leo. I'm not going anywhere, I promise!"

"I know you aren't."

Leo steps closer, hissing.

"I won't let you."

You're barely able to dodge the lunge Leo took towards you, tossing the T-Phone at him in an attempt to keep him from biting you. Leo caught the device, glaring at you.

"I'd crush their heart in front of you if it meant you'd only love me!"

He then shatters the phone in his grip, grinning.

"Just like I did this phone...."

"What are you talking about!?"

"You like them more than me!"

Leonardo screeches, stalking towards you once again.

"You should like ME more! I'm choosing you to help me protect the egg! What do you want from me? I just wish to court you!"

You cringe softly at his words, looking for more stuff to throw at him. Could Donnie and the others take anymore time? How far did they go out?

"I'd tear their hearts out to display them to you... wouldn't that be a great gift? Would that make you wish to select me as your partner?"

You shake your head, throwing a rock at Leo. He deflects it, growling at your resistance.

"No, please... Leo this isn't-"

You scream loudly when Leo pounces on you, mouth open. You push at him desperately in an attempt to escape. Even when the sharp pain of his teeth stung you, you still fought.

"They can't have you. Only I can. I want you to join me in protecting the egg. The others will perish... and you'll help me."

He digs into you, teeth digging into your skin. Blood and saliva mix with each other, a disgusting combo pooling around you. You'd think he'd stop after one bite....

Leo didn't, however. He bit, and bit, and bit until you were littered in marks. He coos at you softly when you feel your mind slipping. It could have been the blood loss... it could have been you turning... at this point you no longer cared.

"Those lasting marks are signs of our love!"

He says it with such affection. Like what he was doing was purely out of love. This was not love, this was animalistic desire.

You feel your senses leaving you by the time you heard Donnie calling out for you. You can hear Leo chuckling at the futility of Donnie trying to take you away from him. After the first bite, you were his.

There was no going back.

You'd either die or become like him.

As of now you couldn't figure out which fate would be yours.

All you could do was greet the blackness of your subconscious and wait to find out.

#yandere teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere tmnt #yandere tmnt 2012 #yandere parasitica leonardo #yandere leonardo #panther halloween event 2022

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mx-lamour · 4 months

Text

Ezra will remember this.

Incidentally, our most homoerotic moment of the campaign.

It's well before the dinner at Ravenloft. Our party keeps moving farther westward, on a jaunty little trail of side quests, and we've met the Martikovs. We've cleared the winery, in perhaps record time, our bard and Ezra having disguised themselves as Strahd and Rahadin and successfully manipulated a creepy staff out of so-and-so's hands, bidding them to leave.

We found out about three gemstones that had once been hidden in the winery, and started off to find them. The first, we knew, would be with the druids, who were about to conduct some kind of ritual. So we raced to the old grove to stop them, hoping to run ahead of the reinforcements we'd just inadvertently sent their way.

We made it in good time. The staff we'd usurped worked well to our advantage, but it was still a hard fight--actually one of our first, I think, beyond the ghost house. We'd managed to talk and side-step our way through much of Barovia thus far.

Fire blazed on a tall effigy of Strahd von Zarovich, throwing light and shadow across the grove in hypnotic contrast. In the distance, still too near for comfort, the Gulthias tree groaned into malevolent sentience, crawling heavily on roots like twisted knees, furrowing the earth, swinging club-like branches down like spiny fists on anyone within its reach.

We fought on all sides, battling the druids, throwing what little we had at the Gulthias tree to slow its approach. And then Ezra spotted it: that first gem, in the heart of the fire. He worked to tear the effigy down, faster than it could burn on its own.

Though there was no rain, thunder rolled through the sky. Lightning flashed, out-shining the blaze in a strobe of stark white. We glanced up at the night sky and knew terror.

Strahd von Zarovich, set with a dire countenance the likes of which we'd not yet witnessed, on a dark horse with burning mane and flaring nostrils, descended from the storm.

We had seen versions of Strahd, before this. Met caricatures and disguises of an origin we could not yet understand. But this, immediately, we knew: This was the true Lord of Barovia. Our blood ran cold, faces pale as the lightning that flashed again, washing out the landscape and throwing us just as quickly back into errant darkness. Death was imminent.

When Strahd landed, sliding deftly from the nightmare's back, a glint of metal reflecting firelight as he drew his sword, it was the druids whose fate he sealed, not ours.

Shocked, but unwilling to question it, we used the reprieve to our advantage.

The effigy finally crumbled, the gemstone tumbling down in the midst of hot embers and broken kindling. Strahd and Ezra both moved toward it. Ezra reached it first. But as he stood, Strahd caught him in his gaze.

The surrounding battle fell away. Strahd reached toward him. "May I see that?" he asked, voice low and sure.

Ezra's hand trembled as he held the gemstone aloft. It was an orange crystal, the size of his heart, with an intricate weave of thin roots that seemed to have sprouted somehow from inside of it. A seed.

"What do you intend to do with it?"

Ezra felt ill; the whole time they've been here, he's been out of his depth. "I don't know," he confessed. "I hadn't thought that far ahead." He searched Strahd's face for answers. "What do you intend to do with it?"

"I wish to keep it safe, from the hands of those who would misuse it. Can you think of a safer place than with me?" His hand was still open to Ezra. Patient. Expectant.

Ezra thought. But the only thing of clarity he found in his reflection was that Strahd von Zarovich, who was ancient, who was the land, who was, if nothing else, a powerful general residing in a fortress--In a way that felt both brutal and humbling, Strahd was...

He was safe.

In a daze like enlightenment, Ezra walked across the embers. He held the crystal out to Strahd.

With only a flicker of movement, like the lick of a flame, Strahd had taken it from him. Ezra felt his presence reappear close behind. Strahd's head dipped over Ezra's shoulder. Ezra leaned into the sensation, as though he were falling. His feet were warm. The ground glowed orange around them. In a moment of utter calm, he bared his throat...

Strahd did not bite. Ezra dared to worry a moment that his blood might be wrong. But Strahd also placed the crystal back into his hand. "Remember this," he said, close to Ezra's ear.

Yes. Ezra would remember.

Then Strahd stepped away, and Ezra fumbled again with uncertainty. He groped for meaning. "Why?"

"I assume you would like to help your friends."

It wasn't what he'd meant. Sluggishly, Ezra turned his gaze back to the others, still fighting. "Friends." An unfamiliar word on his breath. The bard, injured, saw him and gestured madly at the Gulthias tree.

"The seed was used to animate the Gulthias tree," Strahd's even voice prompted. "What do you think you should do with it?"

With a last glance at the stoic figure of Strahd von Zarovich, Ezra turned, and hurried toward his companions. Perhaps Strahd expected him to destroy the seed. Ezra would not have dreamed of it.

With some effort, Ezra located the tether of magic connecting crystal to tree. "Halt!" he commanded it, and for a brief moment, the Gulthias tree obeyed. It ceased all movement, just long enough for the barbarian to rip the blade of his dark sword through its mangled maw. Severed at last, the top of the tree came crashing down.

The lightning stopped. An absence of thunder.

Strahd, too, had gone. Ezra took a step toward where he had been, like a child lost in a crowd of strangers. Corpses on the ground. A precious and unfamiliar thing in his grasp.

#ezra sunstar #curse of strahd #strahd von zarovich #campaign stories #cos spoilers #business strahd #lost boy #yesterhill

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mishibashimori · 1 year

Text

Two Of Us || Cecil Stedman x Reader || Chapter 7

Synopsis: You are an alien who crash landed onto Earth. You have no name, and no more home to go back to. The Guardians of the Globe have rescued you and brought you to get intensive care under the great Cecil Stedman. In helping out your new home, Earth, will you develop a relationship with the coldest man you know?

General Info: AFAB Gender Neutral Reader, Cecil is Younger in the Beginning and it Will Lead to Current Events, Reader is a Bubbly Optimist, Reader Description is Intentionally Vague so You can Imagine the Alien Species They Are However You’d Like

TW: Verbal and Physical Past Abuse, Failed Pregnancy Mentions, Depression, Self Depreciation, Eventual Sexual Content

Specific Chapter TW: PTSD Panic Attack

———————————

The hospital wing of the GDA was alight with chatter. You had gotten the news only a few minutes ago that Alana had awoken, and you spent no time racing to her hospital room. Holly of course was also there, beaming with joy as she peppered her girlfriend’s face with kisses. Alana had been out of commission for a week due to her injuries. It was a lot better than the alternative, death, if you hadn't intervened and taken some of the damage onto yourself. Your wounds had healed just fine, almost as soon as the next day, and you would’ve done it a million times over to help her.

“We’re so happy to have you back,” Holly said to Alana, absolutely delighted, “we’ve missed you.”

“I’m happy to be back.” Alana gave her a kiss on the nose and turned to you. ��I’ve been dying to see everyone again, literally. What did I miss?”

“Not too much, don’t worry.” You assured her. “But I bet you must be starving. Want me to grab you both something?”

“That would be great!” Alana exclaimed, sitting straight up in her bed. “The cafeteria has some bunny chow that’s to die for. It’s something my mom used to make all the time, and it sounds delicious right now.”

“I’ll take the same, thank you.” Holly smiled at you.

“On it!” You stood and headed out, happy to be doing something to help. Winding down the halls, you eventually came upon the cafeteria, ordered, and sat to wait.

It had been a few days since your last conversation with Cecil. You’d seen each other every now and then and said hello, but that was it. Despite your emotions you forced yourself to be patient on the matter. It couldn’t be easy for him to make this decision, and rushing him wouldn’t help matters either. So, you waited, distracting yourself with Earth television and puzzles; that really seemed to be all the entertainment they had available here. With Alana now awake though, you didn’t feel half as lonely anymore. Training with your friends, The Guardians of the Globe, helped too.

“You know that isn’t free, right?” You almost leaped out of your skin as Cecil’s voice sounded next to you.

“Sheesh! Do you ever make a noise?” You chided him lightly, a slight laugh to your voice. “And, wait, what do you mean?”

Cecil nodded towards the cafeteria. “Did you think the food was free here? It’s been going on my tab.” He smirked at you, the amusement in his eyes betraying his jokingly annoyed tone.

“No way,” you gawked at him, feeling stupid, “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t think too much about it.”

Cecil shrugged, taking a seat next to you. “It’s fine. Not like we’re paying you at the moment anyway.” There was a brief lapse in silence as you two sat together. It had been a while since you’d spoken at length.

You glanced at him. “I’ve been thinking about something.” He glanced back at you, quirking his eyebrow in question. “When I first got here, you said you didn’t know much about my planet, yet you knew the flower my people give to the sick.”

Cecil looked down at his lap, chuckling to himself. “After you arrived we sent some satellites to uh, ‘freshen up our knowledge’ on your species.” He scratched his chin. “I was curious as to how you knew English, yet you’d never been in contact with Earth. Didn’t know a species could have a part of their brain for translation.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “You learned all that from some satellites?”

“Science is amazing.” He snorted, looking back up at you. “But we learned the last bit from your brain scans. The satellites just picked up random strings of information. We always knew of your planet, just… never had a reason to interact until now.”

“I see.” You responded simply, impressed yet slightly disturbed. “You humans are thorough.”

“Just me.” He turned to look down the hallway that led to the hospital rooms. “I hear Alana’s awake, that’s good. The team’s not the same without her.” He turned back to you. “What do you think, by the way? About joining the Guardians. You’re keeping up well, and you definitely have the skills.”

Your cheeks burned at the sudden compliment. “Oh—uh, I like it.” Then you gave a slight tilt of your head, thinking harder. “But I don’t know. It’s terrifying to think about saving people. I’m happy to help, and I love the team but…” you trailed off, looking down.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, you still have time to make a decision. And I get it, believe me, it is a scary thing.” Cecil nudged your shoulder with his. “You’ll always have a home here, whatever you choose.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been so nice to me,” you blurted out. It had been on your mind since you arrived here, and while you didn’t mean to bring it up so abruptly, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. It puzzled you as to why this man- let alone this planet, would help you to this extent. To question it seemed to be looking a gift horse in the mouth, but the nagging in your brain burst through. “It scared me at first. I thought maybe it came with a price. It was hard for me to believe that people really- well, cared.”

“From what you’ve told me, I can understand why you’d think that. And I don’t want to lie to you, at first my intentions weren’t… something you might approve of.” Cecil leaned back in his chair. “Fix up an alien who might have useful abilities, and have them join the Guardians. Or just have you help on your own. I feel guilty about it now that I’ve gotten to know you, but my job, the world, came first. If I had an asset in my debt, it could mean saving lives.” He cast his eyes down guiltily, unable to look at you. “That’s why I didn’t want to get any closer to you, I felt horrible.”

You swallowed hard, anger flickering to life in your chest. His words were like a knife to the heart. “I was wrong about you.” You murmured in disbelief. “I’m so stupid.” Part of you knew it was ridiculous to have convinced yourself of anything else. Of course that was the goal. You were a stranger to this world, why else would they help you? This world had no obligation to you, and yet it hurt so bad when it was said aloud.

Cecil’s head snapped toward you, true panic etching his features. “I don’t— I don’t think that way anymore. I would never— I wouldn’t of forced you to-”

“How dare you!” You snarled, bolting up from your seat. Flashes of your past raced through your mind, an uncontrollable hurricane of hurt and trauma wiping away anything but fury. “I trusted you, and you wanted to use me?”

“No!” Cecil also stood, gently reaching his hand towards you. You shoved it away, tears starting to stream down your flushed face.

“You told me I’m not an object, you told me that!” Your voice was raising by the word, now a shout. An uncontrollable tremor shook through you. It felt awful to yell, and your mind was screaming for you to stop, but spite and a rising anxiety spurred you on.

“And I meant it, every word.” Cecil talked softly, but his voice trembled. “I wouldn’t dream of using any of that against you. That wasn't what I wanted to do, I swear. The more I learned about you, the more I couldn’t stop thinking about you. In-in a good way- ugh, this sounds terrible.” He rubbed his forehead, looking frustrated with himself. “If I’d known about your past from the start I wouldn’t have even thought that way. It was wrong, and I’m so sorry.” His distraught eyes searched yours. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I would never want to hurt you.”

Taking deep breaths, you tried to calm yourself. Your thoughts were still raging with painful memories, the hurt in your chest throbbing hotly, but you forced yourself to think straight. “You really mean that?”

“Of course.” He took a small step towards you. “Thinking about not having you in my life; it tore me up to no end. As hard as I’ve made it to believe, I just- I really like you.” He cringed to himself. “I’m horrible with words- I’m sorry, that sounded like a highschool confession. What I’m trying to say is: you make me feel normal, like a person with no responsibilities. When I’m with you it feels like—like all I have to do is just enjoy being alive.”

All you could do was stare in silence for a while. Conflicting feelings warred through you. This normally cold, steely man looked utterly heartbroken at the thought of hurting you. In the time you’d known Cecil, it wasn’t hard to figure out that the man had a guard. You had seen brief, genuine glimpses into him and relished every moment, but now was more than just a mere glimpse. His features were soft, his posture as harmless and open as he could manage. It was a first to see him this way, and it was because he was truly worried about you.

The previous years of being imprisoned were not easy to erase, to say the least. Your captor wouldn’t hit you per say, but directed his savagery to your brother. He knew you’d heal the poor young boy, so he maliciously manipulated you into transferring the wounds to yourself. It wasn’t something you wanted to talk about at length, at least not now. You’d told Cecil a little but the details seemed too hard to choke out. It seemed silly to think, as it was a horrendous thing for anyone to go through, but you didn’t know how much it had really, truly affected you until now. Sadness radiated through you; had you really become so broken? Had your captor stolen away your trust?

Cecil cast his gaze downward, breathing in deeply. “You have every right to hate me. I hate me too. It was out of line.” You stepped closer, hesitating for only a moment before slowly encircling your arms around him. His back stiffened at first, unsure of your touch, then he wrapped you up tightly. The anger in your body melted away.

“I believe you, and I forgive you.” You mumbled into his chest, relaxing against him. “I’m sorry. Just— so much of the pain in my past centers around being controlled and used. I’ve never come to terms with the trauma that was caused.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He rubbed your head tenderly. Suddenly his eyes flicked past you, and his expression shifted. Confused, you followed his gaze and found a gaggle of cafeteria workers gaping at the two of you. Suddenly sheepish, you broke away from Cecil and shuffled towards the counter, grabbing the food and thanking them before slipping into a secluded part of the far hallway, out of sight.

Cecil joined you a second later. “Don’t worry about them. I’ll have a word.” He motioned for you to start walking, to which he joined next to you. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. I’ll make some time for us to talk properly, without anyone staring at us.”

“You’re busy, I understand.” You looked to the side, feeling a bit awkward. “I’m-I’m sorry for yelling, really. I should’ve handled that better.”

“You had an appropriate reaction to someone telling you ‘I was going to indebt you to me secretly’, I think.” Cecil responded, to which you have an uncomfortable chuckle. There was a silence for a moment before he continued. “I will do things to protect this planet that you might not like. I need you to know that. If we want to continue our relationship that’s… something that will need to be addressed.”

“We’ll talk about it.” You responded. “There are things I need you to know as well. And, um, do you offer therapy here, by chance?”

“Of course.” Cecil shoved his hands in his pockets. “If that’s something you’d like to start, we can make that happen. And don’t worry, our psychiatric medicine is some of the best, and trained to deal with more unnatural situations. They provide services to heros, after all.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a smile. “I think it would be great to get some of this off my chest. And learn how to handle it better.”

“I’ve had to do some in my time here, for sure.” Cecil gave you a sidelong glance. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about. I’m proud of you for taking that step. It’s a hard one.”

“Thank you, Cecil.” You both had come to Alana’s room.

Stopping outside the door, Cecil turned to you. “Here.” He placed a square device on the tray of food in your hands. “This is a phone, it’ll allow us to get in contact easier. It’s not the fanciest thing but it’ll do the trick.” He nodded towards the room containing Holly and Alana. “They can teach you to use it, it’s not too hard. I’ll be in touch, rookie.”

In a blazing flash of light Cecil vanished through his teleporter. At first it had startled you, but you’d gotten used to the bright assault to your eyes. You opened the door in front of you and stepped into the room, the smiling faces of Alana and Holly greeting you. “Hey!” You blurted out. “I’m going to therapy!”

——————

Author’s Note:

Hello everyone! I wanted to clarify that the reader of this story has a lot of emotional and mental stuff to heal, so the reader often thinks in a self depreciative way. Everyone deserves to love themselves and I do not want anyone to think that you deserve less or are “broken” because you are traumatized. I have PTSD myself, and I hope I wrote it in a way that can explain that it’s not always easy to think highly of yourself or express your emotions when you’ve been traumatized. I am indeed having the reader go into therapy to learn how to heal from these past traumas. Therapy is great and I really suggest everyone go into therapy, even if you’re not mentally ill. It’s a benefit to everyone!

Disclaimer:

I try to be as accurate as possible to the source material for this fan fiction, but at times I’ll get it wrong. The timelines for the Guardians of the Globe as well as Cecil are not as accurate as they should be but for the sake of wanting to have all the characters in here I fudged it. Just know that I understand not everything is accurate but let’s just try to have a good time regardless!

#cecil stedman fanfiction #cecil stedman invincible #cecil stedman x reader #cecil x reader #invincible fanfiction #invincible show #cecil stedman #invincible #green ghost #immortal invincible #war woman #darkwing invincible #war woman and green ghost are gay #guardians of the globe

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kiwiraccoon · 6 months

Text

Numb, Emptiness Chapter ii

Ateez OT8 x OC

Summary: after witnessing the death of her family, her uncle sends her back to South Korea to live with the eight guys he had saved over the years. They seem to be almost, if not just, as mentally messed up as she is, and the goal is for her to help them and them to help her. Time heals, but it’s already been 11 years of suffering for her, can they really help?

overall notes: MDNI mental health: depression, anxiety, ocd, antisocial, agoraphobia, personality disorders, mental breakdowns. mentions and descriptions of gruesome deaths, gore. polygamy, shared female, suggestive, fluff, smut?, building relationships. THIS IS NOT MEANT FOR THE WEAK HEARTED OR UNDERAGE!! this not meant to depict real Ateez but an au, not about their real selves or real struggles, I took ideas from their real selves but again not meant to be negative towards them or anything against their image… THIS IS JUST MY MORBID MIND RUNNING WILD!

Word Count: 2865

It’s evening now and I sit holed up in my room hiding from each and every one of the occupants of this building. My mind races taking over the music that flows through both of my ears once again. Why did I do that? How did he get that close to me?

I can’t understand how I so quickly extended an olive branch to a stranger who could easily mask his true intentions like I do with my emotions. The only explanation I can come up with is the shared struggle with our thoughts, how they rip at our sanity no matter how hard we try to conceal them in a steel case. Yet the only case we find is made of fragile glass. My music soothes my thoughts enough to keep them from breaking the glass, but the cracks continue to taunt me, reminding me that even the smallest slip up could cause it all to come tumbling down. Leaving sharp pieces scattered around waiting for me to step on them and let the poison that coats them into my bloodstream.

Mingi is a stranger, just as much as my therapist who ruined me, and all the other ones that tried to solve my ‘issues’ only to fail. They all tried the same things, show and do things that would cause great amounts of positive emotions. And when that didn’t work they turned to negative emotions. They all wanted me to express just one emotion, yet all they found was my blank stare. My family did it too, they all tormented me for years just to see one emotion take over my form. Everyone abused me like a free punching bag to alleviate all of their own struggles. All because I couldn’t express my emotions. And none of them knew inside I felt it all.

I could feel the pain, isolation, trauma, tears, fear, and heartbreak. My own family tormented me, trying to scare me randomly, yelling at me, telling me how much they missed me, explaining how much they hate my emotionless state. All just to see something, even just a tiny twitch. How much it hurt me to hear they ‘missed me’ when I was right there just behind a wall. I hated the wall in the beginning, tried to tear it down as well, but the second they started to do things physically, I thanked that wall.

That’s when I promised to never let anyone touch my wall, but Mingi did. He touched it with a caring hand, one that said ‘I know why you’re here and I hope you will let me in one day’. My wall gave in. Let him have a little hole to peek inside and see just a tiny amount of care towards him. And when I realized that I stood from my spot next to him, waited for my ear bud to return to my hand, and left.

I think I’ve been in my room for hours, but I needed to be alone. I needed to process the fact that my mind, the one that has been locked away for eleven years, just let someone, a stranger, inside. Even only for just a tiny peek. Why do I still care for people when I can’t even express it? Why do I torment myself?

I even answered Wooyoung, and helped Seonghwa. Why?

“Dinner!” Someone yells from outside my door and instead of going to get food I sit still. I watched my door like a hawk daring someone to even try and open it. I locked it and even put the chair from my desk in front of it. I refuse to let more people in, I can’t let them break me too.

Mingi unknowingly felt like home to me, and that scares me. I never felt like I had a home besides with my uncle, and for someone else to give me that comfort, I couldn’t allow it. The last time I let someone feel like that for me, they turned out to be a ploy from my family to get me to express something. That person never cared, they just enjoyed the money. I won’t be a toy again. I won’t be a job and I won’t be a cash grab. I won’t.

Hours go by of me just drowning myself in my music and once I hear the silence around the building I stand from my spot in the bed. The dip that holds shows I’ve been in the same spot for hours in my own little world of pain, confusion, loss, and uncertainty. I carefully move the chair from its spot underneath my door handle and twist the lock from its hold, allowing myself to pull the door open slowly. My music still bleeds into my mind but at a lower volume to allow me to listen for anyone who might be awake and walking around. When I’m met with nothing but my music I move to walk out of my room only to slightly hit my foot against something on the ground.

Looking down I see a glass of water sitting in front of my door with a sandwich sealed inside a plastic bag. I lean down and pick up the items turning back into my room. Without second guessing myself I lock my door the same way it was before taking this food, that I think came from my uncle as it was my favorite sandwich in the bag and my name written sloppily, back to my bed. I sit in my hole once again and slowly eat the comfort food, drowning out my thoughts even more as I refuse to think anymore.

I set the empty glass down next to the plastic bag that now sits against the top of my bedside table waiting for me to put it away, but I fear meeting someone accidentally on my way. So instead I turn off the lamp beside me and switch my phone to play music through the speakers, not forgetting to put my headphones in their case. I slip under my covers more, essentially hiding myself away from the monsters that are my thoughts and traumas who constantly torment me. Sleep consumes me, bringing me into my dream world where I can express my emotions and show those I care about how they make me feel. One day I will be able to break this mask and shatter it into pieces that can never be put back together. Hopefully soon.

“Kai?” Someone knocks at my door, awakening me from my peaceful world of dreams, “we have breakfast if you want any.” I know that voice. Wooyoung sighs and walks away, I know he possibly has more questions, but I can’t help the fear that rises in me. There’s never been someone who genuinely wanted to know me, and as much as I want to believe he is that person I can’t. I won’t fall into another trap.

After two days of being locked in my room, my mind reminds me I’m not in America anymore, my family can’t force someone on me anymore, it’s only me. My uncle understood me and never pushed me, he wouldn’t send someone to torment me. Maybe I could try again today, just later. I make my way to my connecting bathroom to shower with my phone playing music through its speakers as the Bluetooth one died right as I woke up. I take my time washing away all of my negative feelings, I can’t let them win anymore. I want to be better, I want to really feel, I want to be me.

Finally in fresh clothes and a light amount of makeup to soothe myself I walk into my bedroom to make my bed and put my desk chair back where it belongs. My chair only moved to the side these past couple of days, everytime I opened the door I found food and a drink. Whoever left me these things cared and I first believed it was my uncle until I still got something during lunch when he was at work. I never brought my dishes out of my room creating a pile that rests on my bedside table reminding me that I let my negative thoughts win for so long. They won’t anymore.

Reaching the surface by my bed I grab my headphones to place in my ears and balance the stack of dishes on my arms to bring down and clean. Balancing them on my one hand to unlock the door completely and walk out without bothering to look around to check for anyone as I don’t want to let myself hide away again. I walk to the beat of the music, immersing myself in the sound to ground myself and create a sense of power in myself. Each step I take I feel my courage building, my mind no longer having power over me.

The kitchen is empty when I walk in, allowing me the space to clean my dishes that resemble my trauma away, I want it to go down the drain and never resurface again. Get lost in the sea that is healing. I no longer have to go through constant pushing, torment, or abuse. I will get better, I want it. I notice some extra dishes in the sink that Seonghwa hasn’t gotten to yet, so I clean those as well. What I don’t notice are the eyes that catch me cleaning the dishes, but he doesn’t allow me to catch him as he leaves the second the last dish is put away in its place.

I stop at the fridge to grab a drink and luckily an apple to hold myself over until lunch, before walking out to the living room and finding the chair I sat in two days ago left open. I take my seat avoiding the eyes of those in the room, I guess they are shocked to see me. My eyes look over the books once again and take the same one from before turning to the page number I last remember. I hear a sigh from next to me and look over to see Mingi looking down at his phone, but he does nothing except stare. Again I take a headphone out, clean it, and extend my hand to Mingi.

I can tell he is in his head, if I could beat my thoughts I will help him beat his. Mingi looks up at seeing my hand in the corner of his eye, making his eyes meet my dull ones as a smile spreads across his face. The headphone gets placed in his ear and my music continues, nothing is said because there is no reason to. The comfort I feel around him is also felt on his side, I can tell by the way his shoulders relaxed when I sat down, the way he took a deep breath, and the way I pulled him out of his daze easily.

“I wanna listen too!” Wooyoung yells coming over to where we sit and sitting on the ground right between our chairs looking up at me expectantly. My bored face looks into his childlike one wondering why he would even want to listen to the music.

Mingi chuckles from his spot and looks over at me asking if it’s okay for him to listen to the music, I give a small approving nod not seeing any harm if Mingi doesn’t mind giving up his music. Wooyoung eagerly places the earbud in his ear and if I could laugh I would at the way his face shows shock. “You listen to rock?”

“I listen to everything.” I say simply turning my attention back to the book laying on my lap, internally enjoying the bonding moment between us three.

“She listens to rock, rap, r&b, pop, punk, literally everything. It surprised me too.” Mingi explains reaching to take the earbud back from Wooyoung. The younger allows him as he sits in wonder letting questions run through his mind.

He hums to himself pondering which question to ask first, but when he looks around the room and sees the others have left he decides quickly. “Why do you always listen to music?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” I respond, simply closing the book with my finger in between the pages to keep my place.

Mingi chuckles and Wooyoung smiles, “I have a lot I want to know. Eventually you will tell me.”

“It’s true, he won’t stop asking until you give in, better to do so sooner rather than later. He will get annoying.” Mingi explains with a teasing smile on his face while slightly pushing the younger’s shoulder.

Wooyoung gasps, “hey! I’m not annoying!” His voice is loud and full of shock but also a playful tone seeping through.

“Yes you are!” Someone yells from the kitchen and I recognize the voice to be the one that comforted Wooyoung when I didn’t respond to his question the first time I met him.

His shoulders slump, I take a moment to situate myself in a more comfortable position before responding to his question. “I'm not used to people wanting to know me for me and not for personal gain. I listen to music because my mind always has negative thoughts, I want to drown them out.”

“Always?” He asks, his full attention now on me just like Mingi.

“Always.”

“Is that why you were locked in your room for two days?” He asks not thinking about how the question might come off.

“Wooyoung.” Mingi says in warning.

I open my book back up thinking of a response that won’t sound harsh with my lack of tone. I can’t find a good answer and everyone takes it as I was offended by the question. Mingi scolds Wooyoung while he tries to apologize for asking such a forward question. Meanwhile I remain in my mind thinking of the correct way to say why I wanted to be alone, but nothing comes off as friendly. Wooyoung takes this as his hint to leave and before I can notice he’s gone leaving just Mingi and I alone.

“Where did he go?” I ask finally looking up to meet eyes with Mingi who looks at me worriedly.

Mingi sighs, turning more in his chair to face me, “he left, he thinks he made you upset.”

I shake my head and turn in my chair to face the only other person in the room to explain myself. “I’m not upset, I couldn’t think of an answer that wouldn’t sound rude. You know, with my lack of emotions and all.”

“Do you lack emotions entirely?” He asks, his own curiosity beating him and causing him to ask the tough questions.

I shake my head again, “I feel everything, inwardly. I just can’t express them, no matter how much I want to.” The way my voice sounds makes me cringe, I want so badly for my words to come out softly with a hint of sadness but instead they are just boring words.

“Do you know why you can’t?” He asks his phone now put away entirely and his hands clasp together on top of the arm of the chair, proving that his entire being is paying attention to me and my words only. He cares and he wants to know.

“Trauma.” I shrug, letting silence fill the air for a moment as I think of how to explain my life to someone who cares enough to actually listen instead of torment me. “I was eleven when it started, ever since then everyone I knew, except my uncle, tried to force strong emotions out of me. Whether that be happiness or pain, they didn’t care as long as I expressed it. They made it worse, I went mute for years, selectively.”

“Thank you.” He responds, reaching out to grab my free hand and hold it in both of his.

“For?” I ask looking to meet his eyes as mine had downcasted to look at the cover of the book in my hand. I had only told my uncle of the pain they put me through, I didn’t think I could tell anyone else. Yet here I was telling a complete stranger who felt like home, something I’ve never felt before.

He smiles a comforting smile and squeezes my hand, “for trusting me enough to tell me something serious, I hope you know I don’t mind that you can’t express your emotions. There’s some part of me that feels like it can tell what you're feeling deep down, that’s enough for me.”

For the rest of the morning we sit in the living room doing our own things in each other’s company, him playing on his phone and me reading. Both of us listen to my music and enjoy the distraction from our thoughts that consume us to the point that we break. I won’t let that happen to him anymore and I hope it doesn’t happen to me anymore. One day neither of us will have to worry about them again, that’s a new promise I will make to myself.

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phyllisthefirst · 2 months

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[Masterlist] [on ao3]

George Luz x OC

George and Phyllis finally meet again!

Warnings: Depictions of war, mentions of injury and death, blood.

Tagging: @next-autopsy, of course!

As always, this fic is entirely about the fictionalized representations of the men of Easy Company that we see on the show. I mean no disrespect to the real men by writing this.

No tired sigh, no rolling eye, no irony - Part 7

Jumping into Holland goes exactly according to plan and then completely off the rails.

Nuenen is a wake-up call after they’ve let themselves become complacent in Eindhoven, celebrating with the locals as if they’d already won the war. Nuenen, and the weeks following their hasty and humiliating retreat, make it very clear that that’s not the case.

Autumn in Holland is dreary and boring, long stretches of sitting around interrupted by the occasional skirmish with scattered German troops - until the battle at the crossroads happens, and a few Germans turn into two whole battalions of SS.

Afterwards, George is still busy figuring out if he's got all his limbs and no extra holes when he hears about battalion CP.

"Apparently, battalion CP got completely overrun, and they managed to hit battalion HQ as well, and pretty hard," he overhears Nixon telling Winters when he passes by them, and he can't help but stop and interject.

"How hard? I mean who..." He can't bring himself to outright ask about casualties, the word too final to say out loud.

"Apparently, Major Horton's dead. Apart from that, I haven't heard anything specific." Winters studies him for a moment with those piercing eyes of his, and something on George's face must have given away his racing thoughts. "Is there anyone in particular you want to know about? Someone you know at battalion HQ?"

George nods, and Winters' tired face softens a little.

"We could use a restock on our ammo. If you don't mind helping with supplies, Captain Nixon can take you over there when he links up with battalion."

Nixon seems momentarily surprised but then nods.

"Come on then, Luz. Let's find a jeep."

George is quiet on the drive over and glad that Nixon’s driving - he’s much too nervous to focus on the road. He only heard that Phyllis arrived in Holland two weeks ago, although this time he knew beforehand that she would be joining them here. Her words about staying far behind the line come back to him, the ones she tried to reassure him with when they met on the beach in Normandy.

George scoffs. So much for that.

She'd promised him the same thing again, in the note she had managed to deliver to him right before the Market Garden jump: That she'd follow behind them with some other battalion staff, but that she'd stay far behind the lines and provide a link between the front and the logistical centers in better secured areas.

And now here he is, racing towards an apparently overrun battalion HQ and hoping against hope that she won't be there.

When they arrive at battalion HQ, it's to find the place in absolute shambles.

Several buildings around the farm estate are badly damaged, walls crumbling and wooden beams smoldering. There’s debris strewn all over the courtyard, including a still-smoking Sherman tank. Even the bodies have not yet been buried, only hastily piled into a cart and covered with a tarp. Men are hastening about, trying to deal with half a dozen pressing matters at once. Some are bleeding though still on their feet, some being treated in a makeshift aid station in one of the less damaged buildings.

The highest ranking officer they can find is a very frazzled-looking Lieutenant.

“Major Horton's dead.”

“We know. Any other casualties?”

“Two more dead, a few injured - we’re still counting. Oh, and a few orderlies aren't accounted for yet." The way he adds it, like an afterthought, makes George's hackles rise.

"Is anyone searching for them?" He asks, aware that his tone is not the correct one for addressing a superior officer and not giving a damn.

"Do I look like I know what anyone is doing right now?"

George is about to snap that he looks like he should know, judging by the bars on his collar, but Nixon cuts him off before he can.

"Private Luz and I can organize a search. We aren't needed back with Easy just yet."

The Lieutenant gratefully accepts the offer and finally decides to be at least a little helpful.

"The non-combatants were sent away from the main building to that building on the other side of the estate. It has a cellar that's been used as a makeshift shelter. They might still be waiting there for the all-clear."

Nixon and George set off in the direction of the man's outstretched arm. The second they’re out of earshot, Nixon quips:

"You're welcome by the way - for keeping you from insulting an officer."

"I wasn't...How did you..." George sputters.

"You have a very expressive face." Nixon explains. They walk a few steps in silence. "I take it this is about that female orderly of Sink's? The logistics whiz?"

George feels a flash of pride at hearing Phyllis described as a "logistics whiz", makes a mental note to tell her she's built herself a reputation with a capable officer like Nixon - then he looks over and sees the gleam in the other man's eyes.

"It's not like that. She's a friend."

Nixon gives a nonchalant half-shrug.

"It's none of my business." Something in the not-quite-hidden smirk on the officer's face tells George that he doesn't fully mean the words, but then they've arrived at the farmhouse and their conversation stops short.

The left side of the building has collapsed, leaving behind nothing but a pile of rubble, parts of it still smoking softly.

"The cellar entrance could be in the back, or on the other side," Nixon says, all mirth gone from his voice. "Let's circle round."

George follows the instruction gratefully, trying hard to keep his mind absolutely empty and focused only on the task of finding any sign of the bomb shelter doors.

All too soon, he's made it to the back and runs into Nixon again, who's completed the circle from the other side. He shakes his head, too weak for words.

"Alright," Nixon says grimly, turning to walk back to the front of the building. "Let's start digging."

So they dig, moving bricks and shattered timber with their bare hands until they can hear something - voices, drifting up through the pile of rubble.

“You hear that? We must be getting close.”

George nods, not yet daring to believe Nixon’s right.

But it turns out he is: A few more handfuls of debris moved and they can see the trap door built into the side of the building that must be leading into the cellar. Half of it is collapsed, and through the hole in the wooden door, a dust-coated young man is peering up at them.

“Oh thank God, we were afraid we’d never get out.”

Quickly, they clear the door enough to heave it open and haul out the young man. He stumbles away while two more follow, one holding the other up with an arm over his shoulder, and then… nothing.

“Where’s Phyllis?” George calls after them. One ignores him, the other one turns and gestures vaguely towards the cellar before continuing to drag his injured comrade away.

Without thinking, George clambers over the rubble and down the stairs, tripping and sliding down the last few steps. He doesn’t care about the danger of running into a potentially unstable building, doesn’t care about Captain Nixon yelling behind him. There’s barely any light in here, but in the little daylight that filters in through the door, he can see a mound in the corner opposite the door that looks out of place and somewhat person-shaped.

Heart pounding in his chest, he makes his way over to find that the mound is indeed a person, and not just any person - it’s Phyllis, he finds when he sinks to his knees by her side and carefully turns her by the shoulder.

“Phyllis!”, he breathes, throat tight for a moment until she begins to twitch, lets out a moan, and her eyes flutter open.

For a moment, they scan the dim room disorientedly, then they focus on his face.

“George?”

Her voice is hoarse, she's coated in a fine layer of white dust, and there’s a dark, wet spot on her head that suspiciously looks like blood.

But she’s alive.

“Yeah, it’s me. How are you? Are you hurt?"

She struggles to sit upright and he helps her with an arm behind her shoulder, looking over her in search of any injuries he hadn’t noticed yet. She’s doing the same thing, as if unsure herself.

"I don't think so." She sounds dazed, worryingly so, and then suddenly lurches forward. For a moment, he thinks she has to throw up, then he realizes she’s trying to stand up.

“Careful, sweetheart. Let’s take it slow, alright?”

He keeps an arm around her shoulder while he takes his canteen off his belt, opens it and holds it to her lips.

"Here, take a sip. It’ll help."

She does eagerly, followed by another, and then she starts gulping the water down in earnest.

"Slowly, now. There's enough, take your time."

She struggles to keep up with his instructions, one hand gripping his arm and the other clumsily grasping for the canteen. Only when it's empty does she let up, and George clips it back to his belt.

“Now, do you think you can stand? We need to get you out of here so we can take a proper look at your head.”

He clambers to his feet, then bends down, hooks his arm around her waist and hauls her to her feet, making sure to have a solid stand in case he needs to steady her. Her pained moan slices through him like a bayonet.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just a few steps, I promise, and then you can rest.”

She sways a little but stays upright, and he slings her arm around his shoulder and slowly navigates her towards the entrance.

They reach it just as Nixon and a medic approach from above, peering through the shelter doors. Between the three of them, they carefully manoeuvre Phyllis into the fresh air, where the medic bids her sit on a nearby pile of bricks. He inspects her head while George hovers, Phyllis’ hand still clutched in his.

“She should get to the aid station, she might have a concussion. A few days’ bedrest and observation wouldn’t hurt.”

“She can hear you,” Phyllis points out, her voice still weak but with that unmistakable iron core that he’s come to know from her. George could have laughed out lout with relief, and behind the medic, he sees Nixon stifle a grin.

The medic continues treating her head injury, liberally sprinkling it in Sulfa, and her hand tightens around George’s. He doesn’t mind - if that’s all he can do for her right now, he’ll happily do it.

Once her head is bandaged, George insists on helping her over to the aid station himself, where he doesn’t rest until he’s made sure she’s as comfortable as possible on the narrow field hospital cot, and then makes every single nurse and doctor promise that they’ll take good care of her, monitor her for a possible concussion, and not let her get out of the aid station even if she insists on it (he has a feeling that once the first daze passes, Phyllis will be very opposed to ‘a few days’ bedrest’).

After several subtle hints that they should get going, Nixon finally gets impatient and outright orders him to leave, and George has to tamp down on a flash of murderous rage.

It helps that Phyllis is smiling at him softly.

“Go on, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m out of the aid station, alright?”

“You better. And no busting out, you hear me? You’ll stay here as long as the doctor says you have to.”

“I will. Now will you stop fussing? I think Captain Nixon is about one step away from court martialling you.”

George shrugs. He couldn’t care less about the chain of command right now. Still, now Phyllis looks worried, and that’s the last thing he wants. Besides, she looks like she really could use the rest. So he only reaches out to give her hand one last, gently squeeze before he straightens up.

“Stay safe, alright? And listen to the doctors.”

She nods, smiling drowsily, and it’s such a beautiful sight - blood and dust and all - that George has to force himself to walk away.

The sharp edge to Captain Nixon’s usually so cheerful voice when he calls Luz’ name again helps a little.

“You’re lucky I have such a big heart. Dick would have disciplined you for insubordination ten minutes ago,” he grumbles, and George wisely doesn’t protest - he’s probably right.

They make their way over to the jeep, now loaded with ammo Nixon must have procured while he was looking after Phyllis, and George is glad when Nixon takes the driver’s seat. Now that he knows Phyllis is safe, he can practically feel the adrenaline accumulated over the past hours drain from him. Between the battle and now the search, he must have been on his feet for more than twenty-four hours. Still, George doesn’t regret coming here for a second. After all, if he hadn’t asked about the orderlies, if Nixon hadn’t offered they’d search for them, if he hadn’t found Phyllis in that cellar and gotten her out - would anyone have? How long would it have taken for them to notice she was missing? For the other orderlies to look after her wounds? The thought makes him nauseous, almost as much as the memory of her lying on the floor, still and bloody.

It doesn’t take long for Nixon to notice how quiet George is, caught up in his brooding.

“What's got you all mopey?”, he asks. “You defeated two companies of SS and saved the girl. You should be celebrating!”

The cheer in Nixon's voice is forced but under different circumstances, George would still be glad for the excuse to return to his usual optimistic self. Right now, he can't be bothered.

“They're not treating her right!”, he bursts out. “That Lieutenant was barely aware she was missing. And the other orderlies practically pushed her aside to get out of that cellar. They should be ashamed of themselves.”

To his credit, Nixon ponders the words for a while before he replies.

“Well, she wanted to do a man's job. She can't have any preferential treatment now. Just because she's a woman doesn't mean they won't treat her like any other man.”

“But that's just it, they don't treat her like any of the men. No man in Easy would have left a fellow trooper behind the way they did. They just don't respect her. They don't even listen to her. Did you know she once had to transport a bunch of furniture and they refused to give her a truck?”

It doesn't take any coaxing for the whole story to come pouring out of him, followed by many others that have slipped out when Phyllis has had a bit to drink and isn't as careful anymore about not wanting anyone to think she's looking for pity.

By the time Nixon interjects again, they're back at their base on the Island.

Nixon parks the jeep and hops out, then turns to George.

“You know, Luz, it's okay to admit that you were scared for Miss Baker today. And it honors you that you’re so angry about the way she’s being treated.” He turns to signal one of the men over while George climbs out of the jeep as well, getting ready to hoist out one of the boxes. “But for the love of God, the next time you see her please tell the girl you’re in love with her.”

With that he walks off, leaving George behind to grasp dumbly at a box of ammunition belts.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fic #george luz #george luz x oc #george luz/oc #I'm sorry it's been so long but I was super sick this week #and also I may or may not have started writing three other fics in the meantime #please excuse the inaccuracies regarding the battle at the crossroads #I'm fairly sure battalion HQ wasn't hit this hard or possibly at all but it had to be done for the plot.

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mysticstarlightduck · 8 months

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Writeblr Battle Royale - Round 2 Julyan vs Blair

Hi, there! I am taking part in @your-absent-father's amazingly fun event, Writeblr Battle Royale, where I and other cool writeblrs choose our most powerful OCs and make them fight in an interdimensional arena. It's chaotic, it's badass, and more importantly, it is FUN (:<

This is also the second round!

Important: These events are not canon to our stories! They're just something very cool we as writers have decided to subject our characters to, for the sake of writing practice and Fun tm, though it is completely unrelated to our projects and the characters' actual experiences in the books.

Check out the rules and other amazing fight scenes at @writeblrbattleroyale!

TW: Death, blood, gore, violent hallucinations, depictions of a panic attack, burning/fire, and mentions of vomiting/puking.

In this fight Julyan, my suscryer mageborn, must fight against Blair (@gummybugg's character), who tries to taunt him into fighting against him. And well, things derail from there (:<

The world whirls around him, the old arena fading away as Julyan feels himself being transported, floating as if underwater. To where, that he can’t tell.

After a mere moment, he feels the ground beneath his feet once again, and hazily blinks open his eyes. It feels like the last time he was brought here. And different all the same.

As his vision adapts to new lighting, he feels a surge of energy pass through him, as if his body is healing from the ache of his previous opponent’s attacks, exhaustion giving place to full awareness once again, like it would after a full night’s rest. Strange, he frowns, but a welcomed feeling nonetheless. Everything is hazy around him. He can’t see the arena, it’s all, blurred, like his sight isn’t quite right. Julyan closes his eyes, rubbing them, and then opens his eyes again. It wasn’t much help, but that’s when he notices her, standing across from him. Her clothes are strange, but he quickly recognizes her garb as typical of a Fortune Teller. She looks at him, for a moment, he notices her eyes are filled with unspeakable sorrow.

Maybe she doesn’t want to be here either. Given his recent experiences, that doesn’t seem unlikely.

Is she a new opponent? No, I don’t think so. Something doesn’t seem quite right. But if she is not my opponent, then what is she?

Before Julyan can figure out the answer to that thought, however, the Fortune Teller woman moves. And points to him. Directly. Once again, his surroundings swirl around him, and for a brief moment, Julyan feels like he is falling, fast, towards somewhere he cannot see, spinning like a kite caught in the wind. Before it stops, just as suddenly as it began, and he feels the ground beneath him again.

Groaning from all the swirling and sudden crash, he stands up, and takes a lot around. He immediately regretted that decision.

Looking around, at first it seems as if he is back home, in Agrannor. It’s the same snow covered streets of his city, the same stone carven walls. But there is blood upon the snow, and the wall’s ancient stone is marred by the all too familiar fires of war. Everything seems misplaced, destroyed. It’s nothing like what everything looked like when he was first whisked away to this dreadful competition.

Something is wrong, terribly so.

A shrill scream cuts through the winter air, and Julyan feels as if his blood was frozen inside him, terror filling him. He knows this voice, he knows this voice too well. It can’t be… nonono… Julyan whirls around in the direction of the sound, heart beginning to race within his chest.

Please no, Gods, anything but this, don’t let it be what I think it is -

The dreadfully familiar sigil of the Secret Court comes into view, as assassins march mercilessly through the ruins of the city around him. Terror follows soon after, the feeling he had wished he’d never feel, the fate he lived to avoid. Their enemies had found them.

And worst, much worse yet. His siblings were caught in the crossfire. Julyan wanted to scream, or vomit, whatever came first. He felt as if his heart is going to punch a whole through his chest, terror and grief growing as he took in the sight that was standing in front of him.

A red cloaked assassin smiled, rotten, standing behind his younger sister, a wickedly sharp dagger held dangerously close to her throat. Behind them, there was more blood on the snow, and Julyan wanted to curl up and die when he realized from where it was coming from. Azra, his adoptive brother, lay on top of the growing red stain, alive - but the deep gash at his side told Julyan that it would not be for long.

Shaking, he finds his voice, looking up at the assassin placatingly.

“Please, just… let them go, alright? There’s no need to involve them. You need a victim, don’t you? Then take me. Kill me, hurt me, do whatever you want. Just let them both live.”

The assassin tilted their head, glowing eyes a sickening reminder of what Julyan was trying to avoid. They laughed.

“It’s too late for that, Sunscryer.” The voice echoes around him, like a ghost, sounding more like a snake’s hiss than anything human. “You ran, like a coward. You were too afraid to face your punishment, your fate. Now you pay the price of your freedom.”

The person pulled the dagger closer to Raelen’s neck, drawing a thin line of blood, and she sobbed. “Julyan, help me!”

Julyan tried to move, to take a step closer, do something. But he couldn’t, as if his feet were stuck in place. His eyes flitted between his sister and the assassin holding her at knifepoint. He wished he could comfort her, save her. But there was no time.

With renewed desperation, Julyan struggled against his inability to move, something still holding him stuck in place, as his legs were rooted to the floor. That didn’t stop him from trying - even though it was not working.

“Stop!” Julyan commanded the assassin, though it came out as a desperate, ragged plea. “Don’t do this - hey, I’m right here. I won’t fight you if you let them go. A-at all. Kill me now and end this madness, not them, please, leave them both alone. I’ll do whatever you want -”

The shadowy figure of the assassin laughed once more, shaking their head in sadistic glee. Julyan jumped forward, or at least he tried to, attempting to reach the assassin before it was too late.

But he was helpless to only watch as the figure stabbed his sister in the heart.

Time seemed to stop as crimson blood gushed out of the fresh wound, staining her robes around the twisting blade. For a moment, Julyan could not find the words to speak, or the air to breath, as he stared down his worst fear.

Until he fell to his knees, a gut-wrenching scream leaving him and echoing mournfully around him, the realization of what he just witnessed being too much to even bear. “NO!” Manic desperation filled him, his eyes glued to the corpses on the red snow before him, and the assassin walking away.

The wind picked up pace around him, but despite it, Julyan felt like he was being suffocated. He covered his face, nails digging into his pristine skin as he covered his eyes, unable to move. Unable to think.

He couldn’t tell if the roaring sound that seemed to surround him was just the wind, or the blood rushing behind his ears. He couldn’t care less right now - he barely realized he was still sobbing, even though he couldn’t find the ability to stop.

Around him, behind the roaring of the foggy wind, all other sounds seemed muffled, underwater. He didn’t open his eyes.

But then, the wind stopped, and so did the sounds behind it. Julyan felt numb, despite the hammering of his heart within his chest and the shaking of his hands where they still rested upon his face.

Faintly, in the back of his mind, Julyan felt a glimmer of recognition. Only slightly. Of where he’d been before all this horror came to be. Despite his mind still spiralling around him, and without caring enough to wipe away his tears, he looked up.

And as expected his new opponent was standing right before him, a triumphant smile on their face.

A frantic wind surrounded Blair, who removed his now-clean hands from his face to observe the arena morphing into something unrecognizable. That's right, he had survived. He made it!

But he didn't feel free.

Instead of the juxtaposing light and shadows of the old, reflective stadium, an even more vast and desolate field spread out before him. Through a silver mist, an old-timey fortune teller lady stepped forth, her arm outstretched. Her eyes told stories of long, forgotten tragedies. Too bad Blair’s could possibly be next.

Upon opening his eyes, Blair recognized his surroundings matching that of Elijah's apartment. Blair also found himself at gunpoint. At the end of the weapon stood what appeared to be Elijah, whose blurry face twisted in horror.

"Get away from me, you freak!" Elijah crouched in the corner of the room, clutching his chest. His face was splotchy and his voice was ragged and worn.

"What are you...?" Blair asked slowly. He took a step forward.

"Get back, or I'll shoot!" Elijah said, except it didn't sound like he was convinced enough to pull the trigger.

Shoot me? But I didn't do anything! I don't even know how I got here!

The grip Blair didn't notice he had on his knife tightened. How did that get there? He brought his hands up to his face. Sticky residue clung to his hands and dug dark, red trenches into each fold. He turned the knife over in his hand until he caught a glimpse of his blank expression.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Blair closed the gap between them, causing Elijah to visibly shake under his shadow. He couldn't seem to release the knife, but kept his hands visible at the very least. "Tell me who did this to you," he demanded.

"Please, just get out of my apartment!" Elijah choked, "I'll do anything you want, just--just please don't hurt me again!"

"Again...?" Blair's voice trembled. Then he followed Elijah’s gaze.

Elijah looked down at the red spot on his chest that he had been clutching grow larger, the expression on his face melting into grotesque fear. Blair watched in a dissociative silence as his friend began hacking up blood at the sight of his wound, exacerbating his injury.

In a blink, Blair found himself ripped away from the mini nightmare.

This time, his setting appeared like one of the ancient worlds in an old sci-fi or fantasy movie he had seen once. But instead of a bloody man crouched before him, it was a girl Blair couldn't recognize. Behind them, another stranger. The stranger seemed to care a lot about this girl as he wailed in a similar heart-wrenching agony to Elijah's just a moment ago.

As pitiful as the sight was, this stranger was irrelevant to Blair. In fact, the situation kind of confused him. Although his intuition told him this vision wasn't in any way connected to him, something about the man dressed in that unusually outdated attire struck him as important. But why, he wasn’t sure yet.

But this was made clear the moment he opened his eyes from the vision: the man he had seen seconds ago in the nightmare resumed his crouched position in real life. The only thing missing was that bleeding girl.

This was his opponent, the announcement made it clear.

Blair has begun the battle with the upper hand, it seemed. Well, at least he had a psychological advantage, not much so a physical one...he glanced at the balisong in his hand. No more stabbing people, he promised himself. He didn't like how death felt in his hands the last round. He tried not to think about it too hard. Blair forced his vision that had tried to resurface to the back of his head. No more thoughts. Save that energy for winning the fight.

He took a deep breath and placed his hands on his hips to steady his shaking. Psychological warfare wasn't his forte, and neither was kicking a wounded animal. But it made Blair more secure in his actions to rile his opponent up rather than kick him while he's down.

"Hey, are you gonna keep crying or fight?"

Blair wasn't sure what happened after death but thought it couldn't nearly be as shitty as fighting for a self-absorbed, sorry excuse of a circus ringmaster. As far as he could tell, this was no circus, unless Blair and Julyan counted as the clowns.

"Crying isn't gonna bring your friend back from death, you know."

The last few words came out of Blair’s throat a bit more unevenly than the rest. Julyan probably already knew why, as Blair’s vision had presumably leaked into his. But it didn't seem like his taunt had much of an effect on Julyan. So he pushed harder.

"You won't be able to save her in time if you die and M gets to her first."

Julyan glared upwards, steadying himself on the floor. The shaking didn’t seem to stop. Faintly, his mind still foggy from the panic, Julyan grasped what this new person was trying to say.

They were urging him to fight. No, they were taunting him to fight. Julyan narrowed his eyes, seeing the knife clutched on his opponent’s hand as the man took a step closer. He shook his head, feeling at the same time numb and overwhelmed. Scrambling, Julyan tried to think of what to do. His grip on his powers was fickle as is, but right now, after what he was forced to witness, his connection to the flames felt severed. Using them right now would causing him more harm than it would to his opponent.

New plan then. His arms were still shaking too much to fight, but he had a dagger. Blair - he recalled the name given by the announcer - didn’t have to know Julyan wouldn’t live up to his threats. He just had to buy some time, and then find a way to run away.

Julyan knew that, if he was to survive this, he needed at least some time to recover. In his current state, he would be an easy mark.

Shakily, he gathered himself up and rose to his feet, pulling out his dagger from under his overcoat, and pointing it at Blair.

“... Get away from me.” Julyan ordered, trying to make his words threatening. Unfortunately, they came out as more of a desperate plea than anything else, and the trembling of his hand as he pointed the dagger wasn’t helping. His eyes flitted around, and he saw an entrance to the maze, just a few feet beside him.

If he could gain distance, and stall his opponent long enough, he could make a run for it. Once inside the maze, he could try to figure this out, to control his powers and … fight. Maybe. but only then.

Gracelessly but slowly, like a cornered animal, Julyan started making his way towards the pathway, not once looking away from his opponent as he backed away, dagger poised to strike.

Once he was sure his opponent was far away enough, Julyan took off, stumbling as he raced through the maze, trying to find at least a few moments to clear his mind, heart hammering on his chest as the throes of panic refused to leave him.

"That's right, run! Can't hide forever."

Blair wasn't used to having the upper hand in most, if not all, battles he had ever gotten himself into. He clutched his balisong in his left hand, both his weapon and hand clean and restored. Placing one hand along the wall of the maze and the other, ready for attack, Blair began the search for his opponent.

It was curious how seemingly easy it was last time--and now this time--for Blair to pursue his opponent, he thought. It was almost like no one else wanted to be here either, and for a moment, the thought of reconciliation with his enemy against M crossed his mind, but was quickly interrupted by the guttural growls from behind the adjacent wall.

Blair peered around the stone wall at a robot scorpion about the size of a large dog. In the nick of time, he dodged an electrical attack and resumed plastering against the safe side of the wall. A close call.

There was no other way around it. Continuing straight ahead would result in a dead end. It was now or never.

Blair recalled the safety procedures from his first day of Robotics 101. Rubber-like material acts as an insulation to electricity! He decided to run full throttle at the scorpion, which bared its claws in blue electric anticipation. Then he went in with a roundhouse kick, knocking both his croc and the claw into a side wall.

"How do you like that, you bastard?"

He hurried to pick up his shoe and new-found weapon. Now, Blair had no clue how to use this claw thing that doubled as a taser and a laser gun (which he endearingly called a tlaser), but aimed it at his mini-opponent, nonetheless. It must have weighed at least four babies, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

The scorpion from across the enclosure crawled its way closer, snapping its remaining claw at Blair, clearly looking to make things even.

"Come on, do something!" He shook the claw, as one does when trying to get the last good piece of meat out from a crab's claw, "Piece of shit..."

As if on command, a blinding beam fired from the disembodied claw, melting a hole straight through the scorpion's head. The recoil was enough to smack him shitless against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. That would take some getting used to. Blair’s eyes widened at the reality of owning a BFG (big fucking gun), and he clutched on to it as if his life depended on it (which, I mean, it did).

The scorpion squirmed from its last few bursts of energy for a couple more seconds, then stilled.

It wasn't like he wanted to do this. To be forced to kill more strangers, that is. He didn't take the idea of being another person's pawn--in this case, M's--too lightly. If he had it his way, no one would be killed except for that M guy. But it wasn't up to Blair what could be done. He was just as powerless as he was against the government back at home.

Blair reasoned that since both he and Julyan were murderers since they had made it this far, that it probably wasn't worth mulling over ethics. Besides, the sooner he got to uncovering the mysterious M and his lackeys, the sooner he could get out of here and resume his mission.

He began to wonder where the real Elijah was, since he had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination in the last round. Nothing and no one was to be trusted.

Blair was going to proceed to the next round and the next round and however long it took until he got his ass out of this nightmare. Not just for his own sanity, but for Elijah’s, as well. Getting revenge for the person he cared for most severely outweighed the numerous bloodbaths it'd take to get there. He had somehow gotten himself into this mess and he knew there was no one helping him out of this. So, Blair proceeded deeper into the winding maze to seek out his worthy opponent.

Julyan scrambled as he made yet another sharp turn, his boots sliding on the smooth concrete floor of the maze. He looked over his shoulder once more, at least his opponent was long behind him. Stumbling behind a particularly sturdy wall, Julyan let himself fall to his knees, back pressed against the coarse wall for support as he slid to the floor. Gasping for breath, Julyan placed one hand over his chest, clawing at the fabric of his linen shirt as if it might give him a semblance of a grasp on reality. Gods, he felt as if his heart wanted to beat out of his chest, and the screams from the illusion still echoed in his mind, haunting him. He really wanted to vomit right now, but could not find it in himself to pull away from the wall supporting his back.

Okay, okay. Breathe. Julyan told himself, shakily as he stifled what he thought was another sob. You need to do this. Gods. Okay, what do I know right now? I am still in the arena. But it’s a maze now. That means that … what I saw it’s… not real. It’s not real, Julyan, get that? Not real. This is just like another nightmare, you had plenty of those before. Stop crying. Stop. O-okay. What else? There’s someone chasing me. Yes. He taunted me. He has a knife. Okay, not so bad, okay, I can… work with this.

Julyan thought’s were frantic, but at least he knew what to do. Somewhat. That’s a start. He tried to focus on just breathing, as his hands slowly stopped their desperate shaking.

As his mind became clearer, another thought - no a memory, he realized - resurfaced in his mind. A recent one, words spoken with a voice that was not his, but his opponent’s.

"Crying isn't gonna bring your friend back from death, you know."

"You won't be able to save her in time if you die and M gets to her first."

The words replayed over and over in the back of his mind, and the more Julyan thought about them, the more they seemed to fill him with rage. As his mind became ever clearer, Julyan could not help the mix of disgust and fury that seemed to now fuel him, a desire to defeat his opponent rising in his chest, replacing the terror completely. This person tried to use his fears against him. Well, they messed with the wrong guy. Julyan slowly brought himself to his feet, no longer unsteady, clutching his runic dagger in one hand, as he closed the other in a fist, markings glowing bright red, like molten iron, as his grasp over his powers returned tenfold.

As Julyan turned around, another sound echoed behind him. A howl. A strange howl. Quickly, despite how blood-chilling the sound was, Julyan waste no time in moving, trying to find the corridor where the sound came from, instead of waiting it to come to him. The howls grew louder the more he walked, closer, and Julyan followed them deeper into the maze, until, eventually, he saw it. Or well, a glimpse of it.

It looked like some sort of bull, but had all the long six legs of a spider. As if my day could not get any worse. Julyan could feel it had noticed him, as the monster stopped in its tracks, head tilted. Listening. It’s legs clacked on the stone floor, echoing like hooves as it skittered around, despite it’s abnormal size.

Just get close enough already! Julyan wanted to scream, his nerves getting the better of him, but managed to calm down. The monster was clumsy, he could see that from the way the creature struggled to maneuver itself on the tight hallway. That gives him more advantage. He waited.

And just when the monster managed to fully turn itself around, he striked. A beam of sunfire filled the corridor, charring the monster’s closest legs, causing it to make a terrible screech, but it did not cause it to stop.

The monster bellowed, focusing it’s blazing eyes onto him as it’s nostrils flared, furious, like a charging ox. Julyan knew that sight all to well.

“Uh…” He made to go back to the other corridor, but as if on cue, all the doors behind and around him slid closed with a clank. The only remaining door stood behind the furious spider-ox now aiming at him. The only way out is through.

“Fucking hells, fine!”

The monster charged, footfalls echoing on the long hallway. Julyan stepped backwards, until his back hit the wall. The spell, I need a spell, what’s the name… Gods dammnit, yeah, Intangible Transportation. At the last moment, before the monster could smash him through its horns, Julyan cast the spell, and appeared on the other side of the corridor, the monster passing harmlessly through him and slamming its horns on the wall.

It was momentarily disoriented, and Julyan did not waste a second to use that opportunity. Focusing, Julyan’s hands were engulfed in glowing red flames, and he cast two large bolts of fire on either side of the monster. It would take a lot to disintegrate such a large creature, so taking out both sets of legs should do the trick. It was swift, and Julyan was quick to walk around it, swiftly finishing the killing blow - plunging the dagger onto the beast’s heart, and twisting. It went blissfully limp, and Julyan pulled out the weapon, stunned as if breaking free from a trance.

For a moment, he paused, looking around in horror. At what he’d done. The walls around him were charred like coal, but that did not compare in the slightest to the mangled, charred corpse of this creature. This living creature which he had killed. With no remorse. Like an Imperial soldier would.

What did I do?!

There was so much blood, and the smell… Oh Gods the smell. It hit him like a ton of bricks, the scent of melted flesh burnt to a crisp. Julyan scrambled away, tripping in one of the beast’s severed legs and falling over it with a sickening crunch, as the charred remains dissolved into nothing but floating pieces of coal. The smell of burnt skin hit him tenfold, now that he had fallen upon it.

Before he realized what he was doing, Julyan rolled onto his side, facing away from the sight and the godforsaken smell, bile rising to his throat. And puked.

Chest heaving, there was little in his stomach that could be thrown up - he hadn’t eaten in a while, even before being brought here - and that absence only made this feel worse. It hurt a lot. When there was nothing more, he coughed, trying to catch his breath as he scrambled to his feet once more, walking away from the charred corpse behind him.

Wiping away some unbidden tears, he spared the dead creature one last glance, once he was far away enough that the burnt smell wouldn’t just make him sick again. Taking in the damage he was forced to cause, Julyan felt a sense of rage overpower his sorrow, stronger than before.

This wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t forced to fight in this arena. This wouldn’t have happened if his opponent didn’t taunt him during a moment of panic.

This wasn’t himself, Julyan knew it. He hoped. He would never kill another creature like this. His mind wandered to his previous opponent from the prior fight. She hadn’t meant to harm him, not truly, and yet he was forced to kill her. And now he was forced to kill again.

Julyan seethed.

His anger twisted and turned, as he headed towards the only remaining open door in this hallway, dagger held tightly in his hand, Julyan walked out of the corridor and into the next room. It looked like a small arena. Good, this means his opponent might be near, this means he can end this quickly.

Blair wandered into a large clearing, probably another corner of the maze. It was there he caught the glance of his opponent from just a few feet away.

"You!" Blair had gone from dragging the pincer on the rocky ground to pointing it at Julyan.

Now that he had gotten a better look, he noticed how tall Julyan really was. He had strawberry blond hair tied up in a ponytail, a ruffled white shirt, a fancy overcoat, and boots. Honestly pretty intimidating, but Blair was used to having a taller opponent by now.

A pirate? Blair thought.

Well, that didn't matter. Cosplay or not, he was going to win this match. He planted both feet firmly on the ground. This will end here, once and for all. Blair smacked the side of the BFG, charging its laser up. It would only take a single shot to annihilate his opponent, but he also wasn’t exactly sure how much juice was left. This could be his final shot.

“I’m tired of you running. Let’s finally finish this so, in a way, both of us can get out of here,” Blair chuckled. But Julyan wasn’t laughing. Blair wondered if he was good at parties.

"You're rather insistent, aren't you? Just back off already!" Julyan told Blair, a twinge of impatience to his usually collected voice. This was his last warning. His opponent had better heed it.

"Look, I'd like to, but then that'd mean you'd win the match. And I didn't endure that acid trip nightmare for nothing."

Julyan dodged Blair’s poor attempt at jabbing him with the sizzling metal prongs. The metal whirred past his head, just barely scraping his shoulder. Julyan saw the strange contraption, then the meager cut it had managed to cause, which barely hurt, then looked back up at his fuming opponent. It took all he had not to burst out laughing.

"Well aren't you a brutish one?"Julyan gave a twisty smirk filled with vitriol. "Your tactics are rather senseless, don't you think? Oh yeah, of course, you don't think, at all."

"Did you just call me stupid?"

“Maybe.” Julyan chuckled, a dangerous, victoriously angry sound, filled with hatred as seamlessly sidestepped one of Blair’s hits. “Wow, I’m honestly surprised you realized that by yourself.”

“People like you deserve no remorse.” A spark in Blair’s eyes. Was it a glint? Probably just from the claw that resumed its humming and zappy duties.

It didn't take much to rile Blair up especially given the circumstances. He focused more intently on his target. But it was difficult when all he could see was red. It fueled him to keep going despite the hole he had dug for himself. There was no backing out now, the only way now was up. He had to win this at any cost.

Blair tried repositioning the laser the more Julyan danced about with his attacks, to which Blair found more irritating than anything. It was no easy task to dodge while holding a large weapon. The more he used it as a shield, the more it degraded, so Blair had a single chance to get things just right before…

A wall of fire shot right past him burning the side of his arm before Blair barely had time to dodge. In front of him, Julyan stalked closer, golden eyes burning hotter than the flames at his hands.

“Who’s running now?” Julyan questioned, rhetorically, tilting his head as he watched a beam of his fire shoot outwards towards his opponent, who dodged in the last second, leaving a pit of melted ground where he’d just been standing. Julyan scoffed, walking closer, his flames burning white hot in his hands. He laughed, bordering on hysterics, feeling manic after all he just went through - his voice was sickeningly sweet, provoking, though it slowly derailed into rage as he finished his sentence “Weren’t you the guy taunting me when I couldn’t fight back? Well now I can. Step up to the challenge, you bastard!”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere. I said what I said,” Blair spat out a bloody tooth for no discernible reason. Maybe to assert dominance in his culture…? Not even M knew.

Julyan shot another blast of sunfire, cornering Blair as the other tried to run back into the maze. For a moment, Julyan watched his opponent dodge flame after flame, as he made the burning spiral chase Blair no matter how far he tried to run. For a moment he wondered how on earth that man had the energy to dodge his attacks while carrying such a large scorpion claw. Until he could see his opponent becoming weary. Good, now that guy can’t taunt anyone.

Lifting both his hands up he cast a wall of fire just as tall as him, and threw it towards Blair, who barely had time to run, rolling away - a faint singed smell seemed to permeate the maze, but Julyan forced himself to ignore it, momentarily losing focus on his flames, with shoot out haphazardly before he controlled them again. Not now, I can’t get sick again, not now.

“You singed my hair off, you bastard!” Blair panted, hand against the wall for support. “Do you have any idea how long it took to grow that out?”

His opponent was insistent, Julyan had to give him that. It was difficult to pin down and hit this guy, he was fast, but Julyan’s anger more than compensated for that. At this point, he didn’t have to aim. Walls of fire were enough to trap Blair in every direction. And his opponent slowly realized it. Slow and steady, but with a brutality he usually found appalling, Julyan was breaking his opponent down. Now it was a matter of time.

His power’s instability, however, seemed to grow the more angry he got. Which was, right now, a problem. Julyan was starting to feel dizzy again, like he’d been thrown into a pot of boiling water or a fiery lava field, but he forced himself to ignore the growing ache or how numb his fingers were getting. Winning was more important today.

Reality began sinking in like quick sand, Blair squirming in response.

He dodged another attack, which grazed past his ear. In a single hit, he too, could be dead. And he could tell Julyan wasn’t going easy on him. This wasn’t like the last round at all. Burning hatred glinted in Julyan’s eyes, a look that Blair had only ever seen one other time.

If he failed to survive this round, he would never have the chance to tell Elijah goodbye. Well, at least he wouldn’t be here to see me die, Blair thought to himself. This isn’t any of his business, and maybe it’s for the best I stay out of his hair. Maybe I deserve this. I am no better than Julyan and definitely not deserving of a happy ending.

Blair’s vision was overcome with tears. Blinking had no effect on the oncoming of tears in remembrance of his best friend. That’s right, he never got to tell him how he felt about him. Well, that wouldn't matter. It wasn’t like anyone could love someone like Blair. His opponent was basically doing the world a service by exterminating people like him, right?

I just hope that whatever happens…that at least Elijah gets his happy ending.

Julyan spun around as Blair dodged yet another one of his strikes. He couldn’t feel anything, just the fire, burning inside of him, through him. And anger. He was never this angry before. Never. He hated anger. It was sick. Julyan realized, with a momentary pang, that this ‘anger’ was actually fear. Deathly fear. He shook his head, and his thoughts dissipated in the searing burn of his sunfire, his own skin aching at the overheating of the flames as he shaped it into a fiery spear, and took aim.

And this time, he aimed to kill.

A sudden gust of fiery wind shot through Blair’s chest– an instant kill. He fell to his knees, then collapsed to the ground with a solid thud. Through the gaping hole in his chest, the scorpion claw that had yet to fire its target shot. Abruptly, it began cooking the lifeless body with its laser, setting it aflame. Within seconds, Blair had been reduced to a pile of ash.

Julyan watched, with growing terror, as his opponent burnt to ash, a gaping hole seared into the young man’s chest. His rage bubbled up, mixing with all the pain, terror and grief he was forced to endure today, his flames disobeying his own commands, spiralling around him in growing distress.

Julyan stared emptily at the corpse. He just killed someone again. Julyan felt his hands reaching to pull at his long hair, fire swirling around him like a searing hurricane. And he screamed, falling brokenly to the floor as the fire around him exploded outwards, flames finally stopping as he realized what he was being forced to become.

A monster.

As much as he wanted to go home, as much as he needed to go home and keep his siblings safe, a treasonous part of his mind asked one dangerous question.

What if I lose myself?

Because that, oh that, was a terrible thing. And right now, it was a reality that felt far too real to ignore.

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