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luckyshotwrites · 1 year

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Ch. 35 // Life Festival Day 2 // Day 23

Contents (Warnings): Alexander has to deal with unpleasantries and Lynette's hoping this day could pass a little faster. (Soft angst, hunger pains, character shenanigans, more character information, and further monster/magic explanations).

Wordcount: 2595

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(Oct. 8th, Saturday)

Alexander

He was bound. His mouth and forehead had a seal over them. One prevented him from casting vocally, and the other mentally.

He struggled and thrashed in the chair. He couldn't break out of the chains. But he stopped, lifting his head once a gentle caress ran under his chin. It held a familiarness he missed.

He met her gaze innocently. She smiled. He wanted to be angry, but his eyebrows wouldn't furrow; they showed his slight yearning.

She turned around and swayed with her galt. Her black hair was almost like a pendulum, momentarily keeping Alexander's attention. And when it stopped, his eyes locked onto the person on the floor.

The seal held back his yell, and the chains clattered frantically. She ignored him. Her human case broke, and a furl of tails exploded, lashing into the air. One flicked over him, almost blocking his sight until he knocked his chair over. He fell to the ground, still bound and sideways.

His wrists burned, and he felt his anger force out his fangs.

She lifted Lynette's unconscious body, and he watched her lick her chops.

She teased, licking over Lynette, yet she didn't even glance at Alexander. He was forced to see Lynette's body disappear down her throat.

His eyes exploded with a vibrant rage. He pushed his lips apart, and his teeth got enough of the seal to shred it along with his lips.

"MARA!" He shouted.

But it was already too late. By the time Alexander freed himself, Mara had finished off Lynette.

Then, one of her tails whipped into his body. It sent him back.

…

His eyes opened, staring up at the ceiling. His heart was in an immediate panic, slowly settling when he realized it was nothing more than a dream.

It was a fling…barely two weeks. Alexander reasoned. His hand moved over his chest before he looked over at Lynette's bed. Why was she so pissed? It's not like- His throat released a low grumble. She made the stupid bet with me over the journal, not me.

"It wouldn't even matter. Did you think I was too stupid to understand what Mara did?" He whispered.

He traced the blankets. Then his eyes widened. Lynette wasn't there. They were in the shape of a person but too lumpy to be her.

He threw himself from his bed; he stayed on one side of it in case he had to get up fast.

He heard a soft thud.

He looked at the wall near the door and saw Lynette standing there. Her head pressed against the wall. Her hands searched it.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked.

She didn't respond. She took a few steps back and moved to the left, closer to the door. Her hand made a gesture like she was reaching for the knob, but she wasn't at the door, so she bumped into the wall again.

He walked over and realized she was sleepwalking. Drake mentioned her doing that, didn't he? Alexander thought. He wanted to lighten his mood and watch her bumble around, but she was getting awfully close to the door. He'd imagine if she could open one, she would open the front door too and escape.

He sighed, "get back into bed."

He tried to direct her back to bed.

"I'll make breakfast," she muttered, "Wicks."

Alexander shook his head.

I have to get her into bed and block the door. Alexander said in his head. He grabbed her by her waist, hoisting her up, and realized his mistake. He only lifted up Lynette when he intended to eat her, so the urge lurched inside him.

…

Lynette

I wasn't in bed. I was face to face with Alexander. My feet wiggled about, unable to touch the ground. I cried out in a panic.

I threw my hands up, pushed at him, and accidentally punched him. It felt hard and hurt my hand.

He immediately let go.

I dropped onto the ground. I couldn't catch myself and banged my head on the wall behind me.

He clutched his abdomen. I didn't hit him there.

"What were you doing to me!"

I felt relieved he was at his average height, at least.

"You were sleepwalking." He gasped between raspy breaths. "And-I was-trying to get you back to bed."

I used the wall to get up. I was far from my bed. Alexander wouldn't go through the effort to lie to me like this. He was usually very straightforward.

"I should have said something," I muttered, "it happens when I'm stressed or sleep in an unfamiliar place." My head tilted down. "so, I'm sorry I hit you."

He didn't speak. He turned his body away from me. "Just go to bed."

I looked up. My eyes traced up his bare back, stunned. Did he always have that giant gash? I asked myself. His arms were crossed and hunched over slightly, accentuating the old wound. Even in the dark, I could make it out so well. Have I never seen his back before? Does it hurt?

"LYNETTE."

I jumped at the growl in his voice. I threw myself into bed and under the covers.

"I'm in bed!" I squeaked back.

Alexander stood there for a bit longer before I heard him grunt. I watched him pick up one of the giant chairs and drop it in front of the door.

I hid most of myself in the blanket, leaving a tiny hole so I could peek out. Afterward, Alexander paced around. Then he marched passed my bed and slammed the door to the bathroom. I heard it lock, followed by the shower a few minutes later.

I reached out for my phone, aiming it at my face. The sun erupted from it. I grumbled, squinting intensely to see the time. It was two in the morning.

They have magic to rewind and heal wounds, right? So why is he injured like that? I asked. I put my phone back and inched out further. I grabbed the bottle of melatonin gummies I had on the nightstand. I took two and rested back, and closed my eyes. I squirmed under the covers. I still hated the weight but felt vulnerable without it.

I squeezed my eyes together tighter. I was so frustrated that I forgot the scenario I was in when I saw his wound.

…

Alexander

His alarm blared near his ear. He groggily lifted up his phone, seeing the time.

He hadn't been able to sleep even after his shower. He focused on Lynette and her scent since then.

He forced himself to sit up, staring down into the covers as his stomach growled. He looked at Lynette.

She finished her shower, and her wet red hair draped over her uniform. The light from the outside peeked through the slits of the curtains. It let in more light than he liked.

She peered back from the full-body mirror, "see-!" She exclaimed.

He didn't know what she was talking about at first, then he threw himself back down after he realized it. "Shut up, pipsqueak."

He was too tired to argue with her.

At least I have a reason to stare at you. What's your reason for staring at me, huh? You're not sizing me up to eat. He thought to himself. He threw his arm over his face and the other over his abdomen as it panged with hunger.

He heard the buzzes in his ear again, and he picked up his phone from beside his pillow.

A message from Edgar in the main group chat reminded the night crew they were starting at 9:30 a.m. today. And below it, another conversation started.

June: Anyone up to get breakfast? 🍳 7:02 a.m.

Zane: LET'S GO! I'll wake Zilla up! 7:03 a.m.

Viola: Sure. 7:03 a.m.

Claudia: Beatrice can't make it. She's taking waaaay too long in the shower.🤿🏊‍♀️ 7:04 a.m.

Tila: 🏄‍♀️ 7:04 a.m.

Drake: 🚣‍♀️ 7:04 a.m.

Drake: Lev and I are going. 7:05 a.m.

Bea: I'm not doing water aerobics! BEAUTY TAKES TIME. 7:06 a.m.

Alexander didn't have to look up. He felt Lynette moving around the room. She sat back on her bed, chuckling. He figured she was looking at the messages too.

He couldn't look at her at this point. He almost wanted to beg for just a taste. It started to consume his thoughts. He texted in the chat.

Alexander: I gotta get ready. 7:07 a.m.

He grabbed his backpack and went across the room to the bathroom. Alexander heard a few more buzzes as he got into the bathroom. He shut the door with his back on it.

Lynette: Where were you guys gonna go to eat? 7:07 a.m.

June: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 7:08 a.m.

Alexander moved over to the shorter counter. He looked up at the mirror as he gripped the counter. One more day.

…

Lynette

Should I wait for him? I asked myself, as everyone decided on the giver tent, except for Drake, Claudia, June, and me.

We still decided to meet up in the lobby.

I shook my head. It shouldn't be a question at this point. I should stick with him to avoid a repeat of yesterday.

My phone rang, and I answered it, thinking it was Wicks. I was wrong.

"Hey, Lynette~."

I wanted to hang up, "yes, Lev?"

He hummed, "isn't there a human kids' story about a big bad wolf knocking on a door of a pig?"

I heard knocking on the door after he asked. "The three pigs, yes...but the wolf is defeated at the end." I retorted, walking to the door. I peered through the eyehole.

I could hear his chuckle from behind it. "Really? Are there any tales about dragons?"

"Most stories about dragons also end up with them defeated," I said as I opened the door.

Lev hung up the phone once he saw me, "next, you're going to tell me an ordinary human defeats us." He eyed me.

"A knight generally, yes." I saw Drake was on the phone a little further down the hall. "Why are you interested in kids' stories?"

He smirked, "Tila bragged about fairies among different media." He leaned in, "do you think of yourself as a knight, Lynette?"

The sudden question at the end threw me off. "I'm not going to fight anyone."

Lev chuckled, "I don't know about that. You fight me pretty hard when I.~" He went to do a teasing swallow.

But Alexander's voice came between both of us.

"Let's get going."

I stumbled out, knowing I had my phone wallet and didn't need anything else.

Drake got off his phone call. We passed him in the hall.

"Morning, Drake."

My eyes went over him quickly, slumped heavily. "Morning."

We called the elevator, it dinged, and I got inside with them. Alexander stood the farthest away from me and pointed at Drake.

"What happened to you? You look awful."

"I'm fine-" Drake mumbled, glancing over his shoulder, "you look awful too."

Alexander smiled, "fuck off."

Lev looked at his phone. I could see he looked to be reading something, thanks to the mirror panels of the elevator. I never thought about it, but they can all read English, right? Drake and Alexander, I think, make sense, but everyone else...is it some type of magic? Their conversation seemed like constant jabbing, but as soon as the elevator dinged again. I tuned in again.

Drake pushed his hat down, ensuring his hair covered his eyes. He didn't stuff his hair into his hat as usual. "I'll get some gator blood or something when I go out."

" Will you be able to watch her? Because I don't trust Claudia, and June's too-ditzy." Alexander said.

"Yeah," Drake's faced me before we left.

Lev smiled, "why don't you take her along with us?"

"No!" Alexander and I both said in unison. Though mine was more of an exclamation and his stern.

"I don't want to be around you all when you do your gross things…." Then the bet with Claudia popped into my head. I whimpered. I might need to go to figure them all out.

Lev looked amused, "what's the matter?"

"You're the last person I'd tell," I said right before we got to the group.

"Morning, guys," I said to everyone. We were awaiting Claudia and Beatrice.

…

I wanted to go to the Sweet House, but it was closed. Many of our options were limited, given that it was so early in the morning.

We stopped at the beverage shop I recognized yesterday.

He tipped his hat to me, "ah, the little miss. How was your clearest yesterday?"

I was surprised he remembered me. "Oh-uh-" I nervously chuckled, "uh, there was an accident, and I dropped and broke the bottle before I tasted it."

He gasped out, and one of his many slender arms reached behind him for the fridge, "you should have told me. Let me get you another!"

Claudia and June leaned over the counter, reading the menu above. He got me a bottle out of the fridge behind him.

"Do you have any animal blood?" Drake asked.

The vendor leaned over after he passed me my drink, "unfortunately not, but I could find you the nearest giver and-"

Drake held a hand up. "I'll have what she did."

He smiled, "coming right up!"

June gestured to the oversized menu item, "Oh, a jumbo mega BLAST!"

I looked at the menu too. Claudia and June looked set on that. It had nearly every boost I saw available in it. I pointed it out to Drake.

"Do you want that?"

Drake nodded, "maybe I should." He ordered one for himself.

The vendor looked more than happy to grab the larger bottles from the giant refrigerator.

There was another monster behind us. I tried to make it quick. "Is that drink safe for humans?" I asked.

He smiled, "I can make you a special one because I imagine it'll make you crazy."

I started to regret asking for a lighter version. I popped open my water bottle as we waited. It was a flick mechanism with a cork. The water felt so refreshing after such a rough night. I was relieved that we were going home tonight.

After I got my drink, June made a cheer clink gesture with Claudia, Claudia passed it to Drake, and he handed it to me. I joined in.

"Hey, Drake, why is your energy so low?" June asked him, popping his glasses up. It showed the light blue sockets.

Drake put the bottle to his lips and whistled over it. "I ran out of animal blood last night. I'll get more later."

Claudia pointed in the direction of the others after she took a swig of her drink. "You should have gone with them and got a giver!" She poked him with her elbow, "Lev's your roommate. You could have convinced him for a free one since he has the credit for twenty."

Drake chuckled, "yeah, right..." He took another drink of the Jumbo Mega Blast.

I finished my water. I glanced over at Drake. Maybe I can offer to help him in some way? If it's the same way Alexander explained he could do it before, that's okay. "You can take my energy if you need it."

June didn't react, but Claudia's gasp and Drake's spit take made me realize I didn't elaborate well enough.

…

Thank you for reading! :D Have a gouda day! (Nonnegotiable, if you're lactose intolerant, you're about to be in a lot of pain, sorry, not sorry. Lol).

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spell-cleaver · 4 years

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DAY 25: WHUMPTOBER: I Think I’ll Just Collapse Right Here, Thanks - Disorientation | Ringing Ears @whumptober2020

The Pirate Son Masterpost

It began with the sounds of winds picking up, then shots being fired.

Luke sat bolt upright in bed, clenching his teeth and hissing at the pain it invoked in his back. Something was wrong. He could feel in it the way magic moved, sluggishly, around him, with a foreboding that stank of a tipping point, and he barely hesitated to shove his feet into boots—untied, because he couldn’t manage that sort of motor function when tired, in the dark and in pain—before he reached the door and stumbled out.

The wind that seeped into the corridor below here cut him like a knife and he shivered, but kept pushing forwards, until he hit the stairs and dragged himself up, almost on all fours. He could still hear shouting, hear shots fired, and then—

“You want us to leave!? Then give our friend back, bastard!”

Oh no.

Oh, seas and stars.

“Leia!?” he yelled, and dragged himself up the steps even faster. The shouting stopped for a moment, in stunned silence, then he yelled again: “Leia!”

He emerged onto the deck to a scene of utter carnage.

The deck was scorched black in some places, smeared with blood in others, littered with stacks and splinters of wood. Barrels were rolling across with every tilt of the ship like some mad pendulum, marking the motions Luke barely even noticed anymore, but it was still a hard job with injuries to dodge them as he forged onward, to where more barrels had been stacked up as a makeshift shield that Vader and his crew were battering at with pistols and behind it—

Luke’s face split into a grin when a face ducked out from behind the shelter long enough to be recognised. “Leia!”

She stared—something between wonder, shock and terror on her face, before she forced herself to her feet when she saw him hobble right into the path of gunfire, straight for her. “Luke!”

“Luke!” Vader snapped, one last stray bullet whistling past Luke’s ear, then to his men, for all that they’d already stopped firing: “Cease fire! Luke, step away from the stowaways, do not get in the way—”

Luke wasn’t listening. As he got closer, Chewie erupted from behind the barrels and seized him in a massive hug.

He cried out in pain—“Hey, hey, watch it, buddy, my back’s injured!”—but just ended up laughing out loud when Chewie set him down on his feet again, and he was a little unsteady. His back was in uproar now, his head pounding and ears ringing with it, but he clung to his friend and grinned up at him. “You’re—”

“Alive,” Leia growled, grabbing his arm. She didn’t hug him—she was eyeing his back, his ginger gait, and seemed to decide against it, but she clasped their hands together and pressed her forehead against his. He leaned into her touch. “I… We set sail the moment we heard about Bespin, but when we heard about the execution—”

“I’m fine,” Luke assured her, squeezing her hand. “I promise you. I’m fine.”

“Then why is your back injured?” Leia asked pointedly.

Luke swallowed.

Han came out from behind the barrels, Wedge covering him with the pistol. But Luke glanced at his father and his men: they were all watching him closely, Vader with increasingly stiff body language. They wouldn’t fire on them—not so long as Luke was nearby.

That didn’t stop Wedge from pointing his pistol at them the whole time, his gaze narrowed and suspicious, as Han clapped Luke on the shoulder so hard he nearly fainted right there.

“Hey, boss,” Wedge said—somehow chirpily and suspiciously at the same time. “We’re here to rescue you.”

There… there was so much to unpack in that statement. His friends had sailed hundreds of miles after they’d heard that he’d been captured, on the off chance that he’d still be alive, on the off chance that he’d escaped the hanging ceremony with his neck intact, on the slightest, slimmest thread of hope that he was still there to be rescued. They’d— they’d stowed away aboard Vader’s ship, presumably at that point yesterday when Vader had stopped very briefly at a backwater port to restock supplies, they’d stowed away on the most heavily, fiercely defended ship on the seas, and they’d engaged in a shootout with undead beings in order to get to him…

Luke beamed.

And then he teared up and threw his arms around Han so suddenly he nearly dropped his pistol.

“Thank you,” he sobbed.

“Hey, kid.” Han awkwardly patted his back—evidently remembering what he’d said to Chewie about the injuries—and then gripped his shoulder in a gentle hug back. “Of course we came for ya.”

Luke buried his face in his chest.

“And we’re going to get you out,” Leia declared, loudly and boldly—looking Vader straight in the eye. His father tightened his grip on the sword at his hip.

“Thank you, Leia,” Luke whispered. He saw Vader grow utterly rigid…

Then he said, “But that’s not necessary.”

And he saw Vader relax again.

Leia stared at him, then—took in the fine night clothes, finer than anything of a sailor, the thick bandages, and seemed to finally wonder how, if he’d been in a cell, he’d been able to come out to meet them so fast. Han and Chewie frowned, and Wedge just looked confused.

“Father,” Luke called. Leia, Chewie and Han looked perplexed but not surprised—he’d told them the terrible truth of what he knew immediately after that first altercation they’d had with him, years ago—but Wedge’s jaw dropped like an anchor. “Lay down your weapons. I think… I think it’s time we all talked.”

Vader bit out, “They can talk perfectly well in a cell.”

Luke smiled wryly and parried, “But the saloon would be so much more comfortable.”

Vader let out a hissing sigh… then gestured to his men to lower their guns.

“Take them down there,” he growled. “And we will discuss it further. But I am not happy to have them on my ship.”

“Well, I am.” He laced his fingers through Leia’s and gave her a gentle smile—he could feel his father’s intense gaze on him from here. “We… have a lot to explain. Let’s go.”

He made to take a step—and hit the deck. He jarred his elbows against the wood.

He hadn’t done up his laces.

His head had already been spinning.

Leia rolled her eyes. “Chewie, carry him.” Luke didn’t even protest as he was picked up, and again he sensed his father’s jealous gaze—was he remembering Luke’s vehemence that he not so much as touch him?—on them all the way into the bowels of the ship.

The conversation that followed was not easy—but it was, by far, worth it.

#the pirate son #thepirateson #my writing #random words on a page #luke skywalker #leia organa #han solo #wedge antilles #chewbacca #darth vader #for darkness shows the stars #space twins #flyboys #flash fiction #flash fiction: star wars #whumptober2020 #whumptober

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tarithenurse · 3 years

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Nightingale - 24

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Bit of everything – fun, challenge, angst, feels, fluff, confusion, fear, violence. A/N: A long chapter for once o.O As usual, ASK or REBLOG for tag!

Ch. 24

Kakashi's mind is pendulumming between serene quiet and something similar to a wasp nest. One that has been kicked. As someone who's used to logical thinking, he finds the status quo unsettling...but also strangely invigorating despite not carrying any direct risks as supposed to many of his past experiences. Perhaps, at least this once, something can dull the ache he has known for years? Looking at the monument with its sharp lines defining the stones – a design befitting the weight of loss and memories – guilt rears its ugly head.

"Surviving while others pass on can be a burden sometimes," the creaky voice of the Hokage interrupts, "but perhaps our very duty is to do more than just survive. It's to live...because they cannot."

"Hmm." I refuse to forget them even if I one day move on.

The silence between the two men is not enough to stop the rustle of the wind as it rushes between the leaves.

Four days have passed since Kakashi found out he was the warden of Uguisu and he has been doing his best to pay attention to both her and Team 7 and keep their focus on training – a task that's annoyingly easy with the former. Where the trio barely contain their curiosity, the woman has become withdrawn. A logical reaction, the jōnin reminds himself often, but one that leaves him awake most of the night with a head full of worries and nightmarish scenarios.

"She never got to mourn her loved ones, Kakashi. A lone survivor, stranded in the middle of a war-to-be. Our new comrade will need time before she can recognize friend from foe," the old man wisely ponders."

"Haï." I can't push her. Only wait and be ready.

...

Two out of three genin are paying attention to the exercises, refining their techniques to minimize waste of chakra. The last, however, is obviously ogling the fifth person in the clearing and as a result earning his sensei's disapproval.

It isn't the first time Uguisu joins when she's finished her lessons at the Academy. In the beginning, she would sneak closer in the cover of the forest and sit down in a partially obscured spot where she could observe from. To Kakashi, it had brought a sense of familiarity. From the kids, once they noticed her, the primary reaction would be insecurity and it had forced her out of hiding and eventually into training along side them even if her focus had been on other techniques.

The kunai zips past the fox boy’s face and slams into the trunk of the stump with a thud.

“Hey!”

But the boy’s complains fall on deaf ears. “Stay aware of your surroundings at all times...without losing focus of the task at hand, Naruto.”

A mix between a scoff and a laugh slips from Sasuke, causing his team mate to cringe.

In a way, it feels like Kakashi has been in charge of the four “students” for years because he has already figured out their strengths and is trying to find ways to amend their shortcomings. And as the session comes to an end, bringing about sweet free time for the kids, the sensei has made a decision concerning Uguisu’s training.

“Iruka tells me you’re a diligent student,” the jōnin admits as they watch the trio leave, “not much for him to do but fill in some voids and have you polish off the theory. That’s good.”

“Thank you, Kakashi-sensei.”

It’s strange how a title he’s heard before without blinking can morph and affect him all of a sudden. The heart beats a little bit faster. The air is a slightly stuffier under the mask. And something in his pelvis tightens enough to tell him he’ll have a different task at hand later.

“Yeah...well...” He pulls out a little bell from a pocket and ties it to one of his belt loops. “I’m maybe more critical.” She arches an eyebrow as an unspoken demand for an explanation. “Genjutsu. Ninjutsu. They’re not the problem...taijutsu is. It made sense for Orochimaru to teach you according to your role off the battlefield and so close combat really isn’t your forte, is it?”

Uguisu scowls. “I can defend myself.”

“I’ve seen. But can you attack?” Gut tightened, Kakashi hates himself for what he’s asking of this woman who has been through hell and finally is beginning the long way back.

Maybe to the untrained eye, the change in her stance wouldn’t be noticeable – it is to any shinobi worth their salt. A slight inwards rotation of the right foot, knees bending a smidgen, hands flexing before summoning the hardness needed to land proper blows. Show me what you’ve got.

Planted solidly, he easily dodges the first blows by bending and twisting, but then Uguisu buckles down to the task. Step. Jump. Parry. They are reflexes rather than active decisions. All too obviously, she prepares for a roundhouse kick which Kakashi can avoid by back flipping away.

“You’re wasting energy with the big movements. Keep it tight and clean -” the jōnin instructs and exemplifies -“to minimize your opponent’s chance to read your actions beforehand.”

Returning to a defensive role, he observes as she tries to implement the pointer. Precise...yes. Pushing a flurry of jabs aside, Kakashi steps around her with ease. And at least she’s quick to orient herself, he admits while scrambling backwards because the student has followed him.

“The perfection of your defence -” he leaps over the woman before continuing -”is what you have to bring into an assault.”

The thin line of her mouth is probably the result of biting back some snarky comment, and Kakashi smiles behind the mask. Fear can lead to fight, flight or freeze...but anger and frustration, on the other hand. So to taunt her, frustrate her, he presents the body language of a bored person and offhandedly blocks and dodges anything Uguisu throws at him.

“Umph!”

Although the strength behind is lacking, the kick still sends the man stumbling backwards, sucking in deep breaths of air to replace what was forced from his lungs. It carries the scent of damp earth, bark, and cotton.

“Ha!” Uguisu triumphs briefly.

“It’ll take more than that.”

A single sign is all it takes for a second Kakashi to appear next to the real one in a puff of white smoke.

“Cheater,” she smirks, seemingly unsurprised by the added figure.

You’re smiling now... Already, he hates himself for what he’ll be doing and the only comfort is the sparring that precedes. Throwing himself into the battle (and keeping the copy on the sidelines), the jōnin coaxes and coaches is student through the moves she has trained on the dummy targets day in and day out.

Slowly, her confidence grows. Not perfect, but better.

“Come at me like you mean it.”

She manages a wry smile. “Intent to kill?”

Yes. A glint of steel in the lowering sun is the only warning the warden has, but he doesn’t mind as long as they follow his plan (one of them without knowing). Kakashi chooses to cheer the woman on instead, finally having to defend himself in earnest although she isn’t on the top 20 of dangerous opponents.

As if in a dance, they circle and move with each other. Step, and leaps, and rolls create a pattern in the trampled grass while continuously bringing the sparring partners closer to the Shadow Clone. Now! The smoke bomb obscures the entire area and forces the combatants to separate until the cloud has blown away – somewhere, Uguisu is using the pause to regain her breath and calm the nerves while the jōnin applies the disguise he’s prepared.

The smoke slowly dissipates, revealing how Uguisu has backed off and prepared herself for anything – almost anything as it turns out when she lays eyes on the adversary and her face contorts in fear. Don't freeze. But how can she not when the mask and wig resembles Orochimaru?

"Take a moment to refocus. Calm down." At least the voice isn't that of her former tormentor. "Breathe."

A kunai shakingly reflects the low sun, knuckles are white from the tight grip on it even as the woman's immediate reaction morphs into bitter resolve.

Kakashi barely manages to dodge the trio of shuriken and is granted no respite as he finds himself under a powerful assault. Pent up hatred swirls and coalesces to drive the blue-haired fury forward – and he lets her for a while. Counting each unused opportunity, the jōnin keeps tracks of how many times he could have fatally wounded her for a while.

"Enough!" A kick to the midriff sends Uguisu tumbling backwards, landing on her butt. "If you want to beat him, you've got to keep your wits!"

She's panting and sweating from the fruitless efforts, but the pallor of fear still clings to her skin. "Haï."

Looks like she means it. Kakashi's own view is restricted more than normal, but he recognizes the way a fighter would evaluate their target: dark eyes are identifying the weak spots, the disadvantages of the opponent. He can see, she has formulated some sort of plan as she pushes to the feet.

"Cheap trick," the woman comments, "but I get your point, sensei."

This time, both of them give as good as they get and the disguised man tries to push every single button he can in an effort to test Uguisu's mind and skills. Hmm, he parries a kick, technique's lacking. Too often, the strikes aimed at him are deflected, resulting in a waste of energy and a gain in frustration. As he begins to outmatch her efforts, he can see the fear return along with the dangerous openings. Using one of those weaknesses, Kakashi strikes quick as a snake, his fingers brushing the delicate skin on her throat before she evades him.

Twice more, similar near-finishes happen.

Finally fed up and pushed to her limits, Uguisu charges. Ignoring any inkling of self-preservation, she attempts a feigned attack towards his right flank followed immediately by a punch which could have broken his nose if he hadn't moved in time. Guiding the woman's movement into a spin, the jōnin leans into her back, a hand on her shoulder to illustrate a potentially fatal situation.

"Never rush in mindlessly." His voice is muffled by the Orochimaru-mask.

Under his hand, Uguisu is tense and shivering, her breath superficial even if she tries to control it enough to say, "I might've left myself open, but at least it's a draw."

"Huh?"

A slight pressure to the inside of Kakashi's left thigh makes him look down between them to find a kunai resting against between the creases of his trousers at the groin. Femoral artery. A slight jangle catches his ear from their other side.

"You used your frustration to distract me and let you close enough," he comments with an unseen smile.

"Hm-m. Now let go and get rid of that hideous stuff!"

...

Uguisu is silent as they walk side by side back to Konoha. I might have gone too far. Still pale, lips reduced to a thin line, the woman appears to be swept away by thoughts, and her warden is loathe to leave her alone in her current state.

"How 'bout a bowl of victory ramen?" he offers quietly.

Nodding silently, a strand of blue hair disentangling itself so she has to push it behind the ear, the girl follows.

It's not until they're sitting with each their own bowl of steaming hot noodles that the usual healthy colour returns to her cheeks although she remains quiet.

...

Kakashi can't sleep.

Again and again, he replays the evening's test and categorizes everything he has learned throughout it. As suspected, close combat isn't the woman's forte although there's hope for further improvement. What worries him the most, however, is the emotional burden she carries. It'll become a lia-

A gentle tap on the windowpane disrupts his thoughts and he turns to see a familiar silhouette perched outside which he waves to welcome in. The jōnin wants to reach out to her when she has settled in the window sill, wants to take her hand and apologize for the hardships and the trauma lingering. Instead, he lies quietly with the hands behind the head and watches her squirm for a while.

"Can I sit on the bed?"

Even without the small, shaky voice, he would have agreed in an instant and scoots over. Uguisu waits until he's in place once more, then she comes to sit in silence.

One minute. I wouldn't have to stretch my arm to reach her hand.

Three minutes. When does her breathing calm?

Eight minutes. Is that...? A thin path down her cheek glitters in the moonlight breaking through the clouds randomly. Shit. This is my fault. A logic thought protests against the claim to blame but is immediately drowned.

"Ugui-"

"Please, don't talk," she interrupts.

He shuts up not just because she asks him but because she reaches out and grabs his hand, sending a bucketful of nerves into overloading as they race to relay the input. Warm. Soft, despite the expected patches of callouses that match his own. A slight tremor runs from her to Kakashi and only diminishes as he caresses her knuckles with a thumb.

"Is't..? Would..?" Her blush is unreasonable adorable when combined with the meek stammer.

Pushing the pillow sideways, Kakashi tries to contain a giddiness. "You don't have to ask, just make yourself comfortable."

"Carte blanche to do anything I want?"

"Well..." He contemplates the possible risks. "Yeah."

Uguisu insists that he keeps the pillow as she lies down on the side with an arm under her head instead. Knees tucked towards the chest and a hand still clasping his, she finally seems to find a sort of peace. I should apologize. But as he formulates and discards a variety of sentences, the woman's eyelids grow heavy and soon, she's sleeping. It's a light sleep, disturbed by dreams that furrow her brows and the slightest movement by Kakashi – when he tries to reach over and pull the covers around her, she's startled awake.

Through the night, the jōnin doses on and off, comfortable with the sound of the second heartbeat travelling through the mattress and into his ear. Finally calm.

...

Maybe it's the cold, emptiness of his hand that wakes Kakashi...at least it's the first thing he registers, quickly followed by the awareness that the mattress is only giving in to the pressure of his own weight. When he opens the eye, the weak dawn is battling against clouds and the mind of the jōnin takes time to theorize that they grey layer won't recede during the day. Something else adds to the shadows still filling the room: Uguisu is standing by the window.

"Mrug'shu?" At least the curses are clearly articulated in Kakashi's mind.

A sad smile tugs at the woman's cheek, softened by the light. "Go back to sleep, 'Kashi...and...thank you."

"Always."

The window swooshes as it slides back and forth in the rail, cutting off the connection between the two of them. Whyyyyy? Rubbing his face hard and scratching the white hair until his scalp tingles, he's left with no answers and only the scent of cotton that lingers in the sheets next to him. That's it...the unbeatable Copy-Ninja has been defeated. I'm done for! If anyone was watching him, though, they'd see the mask pulled askew by a goofy smile.

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brighteyedjill · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 16: Shoot the Hostage

Title: Dodge, Parry Warnings: Major character death, graphic violence Also on AO3 here

“Parry, Ciri!” Lambert shouted. “Do you have ears, or are those just decorative? What did I say?” “After a dodge, always parry,” Ciri said, rolling her eyes.

“Always.” Lambert raised the hardened wooden monstrosity that was standing in for a sword. “Try it again.”

Lambert lunged towards her at about half the speed he was capable of moving. Ciri dodged, quick as a snake, and this time brought her wooden blade up to deflect the next blow.

“There you have it. Not a total--” Lambert broke off as his medallion vibrated alarmingly. He whirled around, looking for the danger, but saw nothing.

“Lambert?” Ciri asked. She stayed in her fighting stance, bless her, as if she was unsure if this was some test of her defences. So, she had been listening during these sessions.

“Stay,” Lambert snapped, and he didn’t look back to see if the kid obeyed. He scaled the worn stone steps to the top of the wall three at a time, his medallion vibrating the whole way. The sounds of movement rose from nearby, the jumbled cacophony of many people. And when he peeked over the top of the wall, he saw what he’d expected to, what the Wolves have feared since the pogrom: men. Rank upon rank of soldiers advancing out of a magical portal just at the edge of the keep’s ancient magical defenses. Their armor was a dull black, and the first rank carried a banner depicting a golden sun.

Lambert flew back down the stairs, sparing a glance for the gate, which was barred. It wouldn’t hold them for long, not with mages at their disposal. There was no time. Vesemir, Coën and Eskel were off hunting. They’d left just this morning with Eskel saying, “Be in a better mood when we get back, all right?” They’d be too far to hear… whatever this was. That just left Geralt.

“Listen, witcher-girl.” Lambert skidded to a stop in front of Ciri. “You go find Geralt, and tell him to get you out the back way. Tell him to do what I fucking say for once. You need to get as far away as you can.”

“But, Lambert, I can fight,” Ciri said, tightening her grip on her wooden sword. “If--”

“Go. If you come back, I’ll whip you.” Lambert snatched the sword out of her hand and threw it on the ground while she watched, wide-eyed at the breach of the most fundamental of practice field rules. “You know how to run, I know you do. NOW.” He shoved her, not hard enough to put her on her ass, just enough to shock her out of her frozen state.

Ciri caught herself, gave him a curt nod, then turned and ran into the keep.

Lambert watched for a moment, to be sure she wouldn’t turn back, then sprinted towards the open door to the stables. He waited until he heard the gates shatter under a blast of magical energy, exploding in a hail of splinters. He counted to three, rushed back out into the courtyard, saw the first soldiers charging in, then turned and called back through the door, “Stay still and be quiet!”

Lambert stood his ground and let the soldiers come to him. Witchers had been made to fight monsters, not groups of men, but that didn’t mean Lambert couldn’t make do. He knocked down the first swath of approaching men with Aard, and cursed his luck that he didn’t have bombs on him. As a crossbow bolt thudded into his belly, he remembered he didn’t have proper swords or armor, not for an easy morning of training Ciri. He dodged the swing of a sword and slammed the edge of his practice blade into the unfortunate swordsman’s head hard enough to break his skull. Dagger from his boot to hamstring the next soldier. Igni to light up a line of approaching men and send them screaming. Hand to hand with the next three armed and armored soldiers. His wooden practice blade broke as he used it to parry an overhand blow. Fuck, an elixir would be nice right about now. Or a fucking sword. Vesemir was never going to let him hear the end of this. Lambert caught sight of a flight of arrows incoming, and cast Quen. He dismissed it almost immediately after the light rain of arrows, however. Lambert didn’t have the energy to waste on defense. He needed to kill some more of these bastards.

Something hit Lambert in the back of the head, hard. He swayed, but managed to keep hold of the half-length splintered mess serving as a sword. That was good. He could still fight if he had his sword. A crossbow bolt slammed into the back of his knee, and his leg buckled. That wasn’t ideal, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t still fight. The weight of a heavily armored body bore him to the ground, and then another.

"Keep the witcher alive!” someone yelled from behind the soldiers who were piling onto Lambert.

“Fuck that,” Lambert growled, though he couldn’t move much under the press of bodies, and cast Igni in that direction. It brought some satisfying screams. But Lambert felt the strain as he channeled energy into the sign; too much magic too fast. And he was losing blood. Lots of it. Someone wrenched his wrist back, breaking the bones and probably a couple fingers. Lambert screamed wordless rage as he was immobilized.

“Search in there!” one of the officers shouted, and Lambert heard heavy footsteps running into the stables.

Lambert pressed his face into the cold cobblestones of the courtyard and breathed shallowly through the pain. It had been a while since he’d taken this many wounds in a battle. He’d forgotten how unpleasant it was. But every minute these assholes were occupied searching here was another minute Geralt had to get Ciri away. The passages deep beneath the keep were a maze. Geralt would have her out and halfway across the valley before these incompetents realized they'd gone. Geralt had always been a lucky bastard. He and Ciri would escape.

“Nothing, sir,” someone shouted.

“Keep looking!”

Lambert felt cold metal cuffs being affixed to his wrists, and didn’t cry out as the broken bones were jostled. Just for fun, he tried to form Aard, but nothing happened. Dimeritium, then. Just perfect. They yanked Lambert up onto his knees, with a soldier on each side holding onto his shoulders. The crossbow bolt in his belly had broken off at some point, but Lambert could still see the jagged end of the bolt protruding. He should pull it out. Didn’t want the wound to start healing around it.

“Cirilla, Princess of Cintra! Come out and present yourself,” shouted an officer in a stupid-looking helmet with wings on it. Fuck-all for practically, but hey, it must make the guy feel real special.

"She's not gonna do that,” Lambert said hoarsely. The helmet guy turned to glare at him. “You ever play hide and seek in a castle, asshole? Kids know how to stay hidden.” He smiled wide, showing bloody teeth. “But please, keep talking. I’m really interested to hear this speech you’ve prepared.”

A murmur went through the crowd as a man in fancier armor and a gaudy gold necklace strode into the courtyard. He cast a critical eye over the soldiers, who seemed to stand taller under his attention. Then he looked at Lambert, and his eyes narrowed "Who is this?”

"Answer the Imperator!” the soldier on Lambert’s right barked, and kicked him in the side.

Lambert bit back the grunt of pain that threatened to escape. Imperator? What the fuck was the Emperor of Nilfgaard doing here? He decided not to point out that the question hadn’t really been directed at him, and glanced up at the man. "Just a humble witcher, at your service."

“They say a Witcher took her away from Cintra," the winged helmet guy said, stepping closer. The emperor looked physically pained.

"That's us, kidnapping children, corrupting the youth,” Lambert said cheerfully. The conversation was keeping his mind off the bleeding. “I’m a fucking monster, that’s for sure."

"Not this witcher,” the emperor said. “Geralt of Rivia. Where is he?"

"I could be Geralt.” Lambert lifted his chin and struck the most Geralt-like pose he could manage in his current position. “You didn't ask."

“Do not trifle with me.” The emperor’s tone was chillingly casual. This was not a man who needed to raise his voice to make a threat. “I will have Cirilla.”

“Here’s some advice,” Lambert said. It was getting kind of difficult to really nail the jaunty tone he was going for with pain screaming at him the way it was. “Get another kid. Lots of war orphans around these days. Plenty to choose from.”

The man cut his eyes towards one of the soldiers standing next to Lambert, who backhanded him with an armored glove. Lambert turned with the blow, then licked blood off his split lip. Ciri had shaken off blows harder than that from the pendulum. And these idiots could hit Lambert as much as they liked if it kept the attention of these Nilfgaardians here and not on searching for ways out of the keep.

The emperor stepped towards Lambert and cocked his head slightly. "Witchers are loyal creatures. I wonder if you may be of use to us yet." He nodded curtly and the soldier to Lambert’s left pressed a blade to Lambert's throat.

The emperor turned towards the walls of the main keep, and raised his voice to address the empty windows staring down at him. “If you do not produce the princess immediately, this one will die.”

Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Lambert pleaded in his mind. Geralt and Ciri shouldn’t even be within earshot, if Ciri had done as Lambert had ordered. But Ciri could be willful. Geralt, too. With every second that ticked by, however, the possibility that someone might answer dimmed.

Lambert forced out a chuckle that turned into a wet cough, and he had to stop to spit out blood. Then he said, “I told you, you picked lousy bait. No one gives a shit about one witcher more or less.”

The silence stretched. Lambert’s relief grew, but also something like disappointment, as he realized that Geralt must have gotten away with Ciri, and not acted like a too-noble idiot for once. That was good. It was what Lambert wanted. He should be happy. There was no one else here to help him.

It would have been fair, would have been fucking justice, if the wraiths of all the kids killed here, the ones who died in the sacking and the ones the witchers had killed in the Trials, rose up to help. Do something to save one kid, one kid who would have a chance to grow up and not be a freak, and make all these assholes drop dead. But there was no fucking justice in the world, and the only thing standing between Ciri and whatever-the-fuck the Nilfgaardians wanted was Lambert.

“I suppose you’re right.” The emperor actually looked a bit disappointed. “And in that case, we have no use for you. Kill him.”

Lambert looked at the small wooden practice sword that lay on the ground where it had fallen, the one he’d carved and balanced for Ciri’s hand. Then he closed his eyes.

#whumptober2020 #no.16 #shoot the hostage #the witcher #fic #major character death tw #graphic violence tw #lambert takes being an uncle really seriously #and also I'm sorry #my fic

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akishito · 4 years

Text

The laws of men

Witcher Oc (Světlana CatAu fic.) Angst - procced witch caution :D

Ao3 link

One has to obey the rules, the laws created by society. They exist to mend the chaos of natural order. But not even following the rules can smooth the chaos within one. The law may as well be part of the chaos tearing you from the inside.

The woods were quiet today. Never a good sign. Světlana rode Mesiats throw the woods, following a trail. The monstrous head of a Kikimora dangled at the side of the ashen horse. They were heading to the nearest village in the hope of making some coin - for the Kikimora or other vise.

The autumn colored the leaves in warm shades, but it was still early for them to fall and make the forest floor wet and slippery. So Světlana rode her loyal friend with confidence in the saddle and determined to make it to the village by twilight. The only thing clouding Světlana's mind was the absence of birds chipping in the crowns, the cracking of fallen sticks by the wildlife. It was a pretty big cloud blocking the sun. Yet her medallion remained calm on her chest, unmoving.

As she was approaching the small town, she noticed several points hoarding her suspicions into a large knot curling in the pit of her stomach. She could hear some noise of life now but mute somehow. She did not get down from the saddle as she neared the town square, nor she stopped listening for any unusual noises in this small and dirty town.

With every new street, she came across many new disturbing clues of what might await her at the center of this place. Countless footprints in the mud coming out of town following much smaller ones overlapping with those suggesting a pair of shoes being dragged throw the dirt in the opposite direction. Someone was dragged and most likely against their will.

Maybe this was not the best time for her to came to this town. She wondered who was the unlucky one. A thief, murdered, non-human?

When she reached the outskirts of the surprisingly large square, she finally got down from her horse. With reins in her hand, Světlana went closer to the gibbet. The people, captured in their twisted fascination, let her permeate throw, not noticing who she was or what her horse was carrying.

She was unable to make up who found their death here today. The sun sat low, and its rays blinded Světlanas sensitive eyes. With the hood low, the sun shined over the roofs, making it impossible to see. It was a man, that was all she gathered. But with every step, she was more and more scared to take another.

Like a pendulum swinging from side to side, Světlana's feet moved in a dreadful rhythm. And then she took one too many. The sunlight died down, hiding behind the roofs completely - now there was nothing to block her ability to see what she deep down already knew.

Her brother hanged before her, stripped from his armor. Left in nothing but his underpants and his Cat medallion around his neck. The only thing that was supposed to be around his neck. No, this was not true.

"Gaetan," she breathed out, not aware that the words left her mouth.

A mature woman by her side caught Světlana's whisper, and in an instant, screamed and threw herself back into the crowd. Face so shocked and twisted like she was looking at the devil himself. Světlana did not spare her a single glance as she approached the gallows. I have to get him down. I have to.

One by one, the townspeople backed down from her way, like a wave. They were parting before her so she could stand with her feet dry.

Gaetan's body unmoving, cold, and so close. They dragged him here like an animal. What happened?!

"One more step and, you will hang next to him." An authoritative voice pierced throw her fixed focus. Světlana slowly turned her head to face with the dark hard eyes of the town mayor. He was in his forties, tall and lean. He stood still in a blizzard that was Světlana's presence in this little execution.

"What crimes did this man commit to being sentenced to death?" She kept her voice low but loud enough for the man to hear her. How does her face look right now? Are the anger and confusion getting throw the mask she wears instead of a human face?

"For what he has done, there is no other punishment more fitting than death."

"That does not answer my question." The mayor fell silent for a moment, checking if his guards were close by his side to strike if the witcher before him started acting funny.

"The Witcher killed the miller and his oldest son. With no reason, unprovoked." He spoke with the pacing and intonation of someone schooled by a home tutor. This man came from a wealthy upbringing, not fitting the place this small town was.

"My brother had more blood on his hands than your town butcher, but not even him would act on a whim like this. Show me proof or got helps me. Single lie and, you will need more than those tin cans by your side to keep you safe from me ripping your throat out." Monotone, her voice monotone, and flat. That's the best way to keep it. Let your stance and stare do the work. Don't try me.

"Witness saw the whole act unfold."

"Then let me speak to them."

The major and she held long, staring contact before the older man beckoned for someone by his right hand. The cries that followed shocked Světlana. She watched as one of the guards shoved a young woman to the side to get to the little boy behind her. "No, you cant do this. Get him away from the monster! Let my son go, did he not suffer enough?!" Another guard had to hold the woman so she could not run to her boy and shield him from what she believed was an open mouth of a werewolf. The kid had red eyes from crying tears dried on his cheeks. He was visibly frightened, shaking maybe, but he followed the guard to the mayor. She something familiar in this little boy, something buried so deep she quickly locked it back.

"Tell us what you saw, Matěj." The protests by the mother echoed in the background, and the major sounded authoritative, and the little boy choked on the first syllable he tried to force out. She watched him struggle and wondered why he even was here - in shock, frightened, watching a man die.

Světlana kneeled to get to the boy's level. Let me help you, little one. Matěj took her action by surprise as the rest of the nearby people, but she just raised her hand and as she prepared her fingers to perform the sign in a calm voice said: "It's Ok. No one's going to hurt you. Please, tell me what happened to the miller." She spoke to him she did to the newcomers at the old keep. They were too in a place they had no business of being.

Axie worked immediately. The boy calmed down and started to speak. He spoke a tale of an old miller that used to give him sweet treats when he helped around and how one day a horse came running from the woods without a rider. And how the horse walked funny and how the miller gave it water and oat. And how the horse stayed with the miller for two days before a strange man came from the woods covered in blood. The man from the tale was dirty and talked nonsense. How he laughed at the miller, calling him a blood-sucking leach. How he shouted, he is not afraid of a vampire, not even a high one. How he cut the poor man in half and how his son lost his head trying to help his father. And how he collapsed on the ground in a spasm. And how the boy runs for help to bring it to the horror unimaginable. The tale ended with the good man dragging the unconscious murdered to the town square to meet his fate. To be punished.

"You heard the boy. Do you believe us now?" The major placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze while his eyes on Světlana, nervous, trying not to let his unease to be known.

"I do believe the boy. But you still killed my brother and without a trial."

"For crimes like this, no trial is required. Do you judge a monster by human law before you slay it? Do you let them state their case, to defend themselves before you behead them?" Světlana remained on her knee, looking at the boy whose big blue eyes looked for his mom.

This whole situation made her feel like she is balancing on a rope stretched out over a burning pit. Yet she felt blinded by all the feelings she was not showing, feelings that many believed were not there at all. "Every monster has reasons why they do what is natural to them. They live and need to feed, just like everyone else. You would be surprised, Major, how often could a tragedy be prevented, only if people understood that."

"Are you siding yourself with the pest you hunt?" The Major felt the crowd was on his side. The dimmed voices and reactions carrying throw this whole conversation only got more bold and brash. Not even I could get away from this in one piece.

"No, I was just answering your question."

Silence fell between them. The silence broke by Světlana and her demand. "Cut him off."

"The law states he has to hang for three days."

"Cut him off."

"The law..."

"Cut. Him. Off."

Her voice still flat, forcedly emotionless. The sooner Gaetan was down, the sooner she could... She could... She could what?

I have to get him off! I have to get to him off! I have to get him off! I have to get him...

"In three days, you will be allowed to take his body. Not sooner." The majors' voice was cold as a shard of ice and just as sharp.

***

On the first day, she went to the mill to see the place with her own eyes. Maybe to found out if the miller was a vampire after all, which was nonsense. She demanded to see the bodies after she accepted the majors' condition. Pieces of meat, that's what she saw. Nothing vampiric about that.

They did not let her get closer enough to see Gaetan's body at the gallows. Just a piece of dead meat now as well. What made him act this way? Was her brother that far gone? Did those mutations inflict their final harm? Everything hurt inside, twisted like a knot. No, not now. Not here. Breath. One in, one out.

The mill deserted without a single soul neer it. Světlana wondered if the miller had a wife or other children and was glad they were not there when her brother came. If they were here now, would she apologize to them?

The first day was for her to doubt. On the first day, she builds a reconciliation cross.

***

On the second day, she wonders about the forest. Like she is a young child unkissed by the rough lips of life. Unaware of the dangers there. She feels empty, hollow like an old willow tree.

She walks, and the leaves crack under her soles. She listens. She finds an old graveyard in the forest not so far from where the mill is. She sees the rotting corpses and dried blood. Ghouls slaughtered - work of a witcher, flasks from drank potions laying scattered on the ground.

The second day was for her to look and find. On the second day, she destroys a graveyard wall in a flash of frustration.

***

On the third day, she feels it's somewhat harder to sense herself. On the third day, she feels tired of waiting but follows the rules anyway. On the third day, she collects Gaetan's things from the majors' guards and throws them together with her own into the bag on Mesiats saddle.

She meditates in front of the gallows. The sun, burning her on every little piece of skin she did not cover enough. She waits for the right time to take her brother down. She sits. She waits.

The townspeople avoided her the entire time she was here, from day one. But as the time limit was coming to an end, they too become restless. The sun was gradually hiding behind the roofs, just like when she came to this forsaken town.

When the first stone left the palm of an unnamed man, Světlana felt the stone brush against her shoulder. "Leave, you freak," yelled the old man, and more were joining him. She could see the exhaustion and frustration in his eyes, but she was swamped by these feelings too.

And she was ready. No, she was not going to draw a sword on them - no more meaningless bloodshed. But she did defend herself. Quen was her friend in many battles and helped her in this one as well. At the impact with the barrier, the stones reflected and bounced back to those who throw them. Some of them hit the shocked people with a force they did not expect. "Blood, there is always blood when we are around, Světli," Gaetan spoke to her, and it felt real. It hurt.

"Enough!" She yelled back."I waited for three days as your law states. I did not break any other law while I remained here. And now I am getting my brother off." Was she yelling? Who knows. There was no right side, no wrong one, not to her. Yet she hated the frightened humans watching her cut down the stiff body of what used to be her brother. She despised them as she rode her horse throw the center of the square and out of the town. She loathed them as she rode her horse, crushing everything in their way, as her chest felt tight, her ribs pounding by an ungraspable weight.

The third day was for her to... The third day was for her to... The third day was for her to...

***

The wood crackled and, smoke ascended to the sky.

Her brother was dead - she was not. It did not felt right.

#the witcher #Witcher #witcher fanfiction #witcher oc #svetlana #svetlana au #gaetan #angst #i wrote this in a late hours of the day #that should explain all of this #enjoy

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writerbyaccident · 5 years

Text

Snared: Part Four (Yandere Tomura ShigarakixReader)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Biting the inside of your cheek, you stared anxiously at the front door of your apartment. With each second that ticked by you found yourself swinging back and forth between hoping everything would just stay quiet and wishing that you’d just hear the damn knock already. You were like the world’s most terrified pendulum, you thought to yourself, just barely shoving down the stream of hysterical giggles that bubbled within you. Falling apart was not something you could afford right now, no matter how tempting it felt. The idea of just letting go, of no longer being lucid enough to be scared was an enticing one, but your life was not the only one on the line here. The world you lived in was full of heroes, and while you might not have been one of them, you would do your best to try and act like one.

As you made that promise, repeating it over and over in your head until it was just a random collection of sounds, you heard the floorboards creak behind you. Shoved out of your thoughts, you tried unsuccessfully not to flinch as a rough hand settled itself on your head. Chuckling rather smugly at your frightened reaction, Shigaraki began stroking the top of your hair with his thumb. Some childish instinct forced you to freeze where you stood, insisting that so long as you didn’t move, so long as you didn’t look at him, it wouldn’t be real. Even though you knew logically that it wasn’t true, you also knew just how volatile the leader of the League of Villains was said to be, and you didn’t want to do anything that could set him off, not even moving. As it turned out though, your attempt to keep Shigaraki from growing angry had the opposite effect. Shigaraki did not appreciate being ignored.

“Hey,” his hissed petulantly in your ear. “Not having second thoughts, are you?” To emphasize his displeasure, Shigaraki weaved all but one of his fingers into your hair, yanking your head around so that you faced him. Swallowing thickly as you realized your mistake, you glanced quickly at his eyes, the red of them seeming to burn into you. The intensity there, with its lethal mix of emotions, was too much for you to bear, and your gaze fell towards the floor.

“No,” you answered timidly. “I—I’m just nervous, that’s all.” Smirking at your submissive attitude, Shigaraki loosened his grip ever so slightly. He still kept his fingers laced in your hair of course, enjoying the sensation far too much to let go.

“Aw, it’s okay, you’ll be fine,” he rasped patronizingly. “So long as you stick to the script.” The last bit he punctuated with moving his other hand under your chin, tilting your face back up to his. Knowing better than to try to look away again, you let him.

“I—I know.”

“And I’ll be right here in case you forget what you’re supposed to be doing,” he crooned threateningly. You nodded frantically, any words you might have used evaporating in your throat. Red eyes smiling down at you, Shigaraki ran his thumb gently over your lips, relishing the way they softly trembled beneath his touch. Finally releasing your hair from his grasp, he slipped his now free hand into his pocket.

“If you seem like you need a reminder, don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll send you a cheat code,” Shigaraki said with a sickly grin, taking out his phone and waving it almost teasingly before you. Fingers twitching reflexively, you longed to yank the damn thing from his grasp and throw it out the window, but you knew it would be no use. Even if you somehow were able to do so, Shigaraki had made a point of showing you that he sent the list of your friends’ and family members’ addresses to one of his fellow villains. Shigaraki noticed the distress swelling in your eyes, an image that caused his sadistic smile to stretch even further. A fierce hunger growing within him, a craving to give you one last reminder, a need to taste you roaring through his body, Shigaraki began to lean down towards your lips. But before he could meet them, a knock sounded on the door.

Throwing an annoyed glance at the door, Shigaraki let go of you, pressing a single finger to his lips before moving away. Treading silently towards the closet, the one only separated from the next apartment by a paper-thin wall, Shigaraki nudged the door open and stepped inside. The image of a fully-grown man slipping into a closet might have been amusing in normal circumstances, like a funhouse mirror version of hide-and-seek. But this time, no frenzied giggles threatened to escape from you. No, now you were deathly quiet, watching as Shigaraki pulled the door until it was almost completely closed. Once there was but an inch of an opening left and the movement of the closet door ceased, you dragged yourself slowly over to your apartment door.

Leaning over to see through the peephole, you saw Chief Kaneko standing on the other side, an unfamiliar figure beside her. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, plastering on an expression of what you hoped was resignation and guilt, rather than one of abject terror. The guilt at least wasn’t too hard to conjure up, as the sight of the chief had brought to mind everything she had done to help you. She had worked so hard to get you to a place where you felt okay enough to go into witness protection, and now you’d have to throw it all away. You wished you were braver, smarter, stronger, so that you could figure out a way to let her know what was really going on, but the threats Shigaraki had made silenced any possible ideas. So rather than crying out as you longed to do, you swallowed your instincts and opened the door.

Kaneko nodded at you as she and her companion walked inside, their steps not seeming rushed exactly, but definitely brisk with purpose-driven efficiency. Both the man and the chief were dressed casually, in jeans and short-sleeve shirts, looking much more like they were about to go run some errands as opposed to sneak someone away to a secure location. Though, you thought to yourself wryly, how was someone even supposed to look in that situation? But no matter what she wore, there was something about Kaneko that was almost inherently reassuring. The way she stood so tall, hands still at her sides and brown eyes glowing with resolute determination, it was as if she was trying to tell you only through body language that she would make sure you were safe. Guilt now weighing you down even more heavily, you wished she hadn’t decided to waste her time attempting to help you. But you would try to repay her as best you could, making your performance as convincing as possible so that Shigaraki would leave her alone.

“This is Officer Kimura,” the chief explained, the eponymous officer reaching out to shake your hand. “He’s the one who’s going to escort you to where you’re going, I’m just here to make sure you two leave okay.” You made no acknowledgement of this detail, instead staring transfixed at Kimura’s hand, which eventually fell back to his side when you failed to shake it. Noticing your distraction, Kaneko smiled sympathetically.

“He’s been on the force for over ten years,” she continued. “He’s a great police officer; he’ll keep you safe.” You remained silent for another moment, trying frantically to remember what you were supposed to say. Although there was no way for you to know for sure, you could have sworn that you felt Shigaraki’s hand inch closer towards the wall of your apartment, getting ready to disintegrate it and run into the apartment next door, where you happened to know that a family of four lived. Your instincts weren’t far off, as Shigaraki was listening carefully for any sign that you had chosen a dialogue option that he didn’t approve of. Eyes narrowed at the door that separated you from him, Shigaraki hoped that those police officers weren’t giving you any stupid ideas. He wasn’t about to let them take you away from him. So, sensing the aura of growing impatience radiating from the closet where Shigaraki hid, you opened your mouth to speak.

“I—I’m sorry,” you whispered, doing your best to echo Kaneko’s look of determination. “I’m sorry but I just can’t do it.” Officer Kimura flashed the chief a questioning look, but she paid him no mind.

“We talked about this,” Kaneko said with a gentle firmness. “This is the best way for you to stay safe. Shigaraki can’t hurt you if he can’t find you. The best thing for you to do is leave.” Digging your nails into the palms of your hands, you shook your head.

“And what about all of the people who can’t leave?” you asked, voice heavy with guilt. “What about them?”

“Your friends and family—”

“But it’s not just them he might go after! Even if the protection you gave them is somehow enough, what about the rest of them? The people at work, the barista across the street, the people right in this building? If I leave now, I’m leaving them to take the fall.”

As you spoke, you could feel the tears beginning to pool in your eyes, confirming that every word Shigaraki had told you to say was utterly true. You had been ready to risk so many lives just for yourself, and it had turned out to be pointless. Within his hiding place, Shigaraki smirked to himself. It turned out that you weren’t dumb after all.

“You’re just having last minute doubts,” Kimura tried to reassure you.

“They’re doubts I already had, doubts I made myself ignore! But if I keep forcing myself to ignore them and then something happens, I’ll be to blame.”

“No, you won’t,” Kaneko insisted. “If something happens, Shigaraki will be the one to blame. You’re not responsible for what that maniac does. With someone like him, even if everyone gave him exactly what he wanted and did exactly as he said, it wouldn’t stop him from hurting people. And even if it did, that doesn’t mean it’s right to give in.” Struck silent by the chief’s words, you gazed searchingly at the ground. Maybe it was just because she was unwittingly offering you a way out, but Kaneko’s speech rang true to you. Shigaraki was the leader of League of Villains, after all. He hadn’t even shown reluctance when it came to killing children, so why should you believe him when he said he wouldn’t hurt anyone if you just did as he said? Kaneko and Kimura must be armed, you thought rapidly, so maybe if you were to signal them towards the closet they could stop your tormentor right here and now. Gathering as much courage as you could find, you were about to point to where Shigaraki was hiding, but before you could, you felt your phone vibrate.

Schooling your expression into one of slight confusion, you reached into your hoodie pocket and opened up your phone. You had a new message, and although the number wasn’t one you recognized, you knew who it was from. A picture was waiting for you, and while it was dim, it was easy enough for you to understand. In it, a pale hand was reaching out towards a wall, all but one finger resting on the surface. There might not have been any words to go along with the picture, but they weren’t necessary. Your newfound hope crumbling as quickly as if Shigaraki had touched it, you felt resignation close in on you once more.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I wasted your time, sorry that I’m not braver, but I just can’t do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you said, hoping that Shigaraki could hear.

Luckily for both you and the family next door, Shigaraki heard your final decision. Relaxing ever so slightly, he let his hand fall from where he had been scratching his neck. He had sensed your temptation to try to run from him, to let the police protect you, and had been near frantic in his rush to send you that little reminder, but thankfully he had kept you from making a truly idiotic mistake. Now that the risk had passed though, Shigaraki couldn’t help but find the whole incident kind of cute. It was like you were a confused little avatar, not knowing which routes to take or which moves to use. You needed him, needed him to guide you with a threatening hand, since it was fairly clear that you couldn’t be trusted on your own. Tongue dashing out and wetting his lips, Shigaraki pictured it: you, completely submissive and docile, obeying every command he gave you. He knew it wouldn’t happen right away, not when you were still so confused, still trying to listen to your own voice as opposed to his, but with time Shigaraki was sure he could fix you. He would have you perfect soon enough, and then he would have you in any way he wanted.

“Well, I can’t force you to go,” Shigaraki heard Kaneko sigh from the other side of the door. “But if you change your mind or need anything, you have my number.” Twitching with excitement, Shigaraki listened as she and her fellow officer walked disappointedly out of your apartment, shutting the door behind them. He waited a minute, and then another, before slipping out of his hiding place. His eyes immediately landing on you, Shigaraki watched for a moment as you simply stared at your apartment door, as if willing for the chief to run back and save you. Savoring just how defeated you looked, Shigaraki chuckled amusedly and moved so that he was right behind you.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You remained quiet though, a fact that soon had Shigaraki scowling.

“It’s rude to ignore people you know,” he hissed into your ear.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, still staring at the door.

“What did you just say to me?”

“I said shut up,” you repeated, voice stronger this time. “I did what you wanted, so can’t you just leave me alone for one damn minute?”

“That’s not how this works, precious. I told you before, you don’t get to pause this game. You don’t get to do anything that I don’t want you to. I’m the one holding the controls here, not you.”

“So what, I’m no longer a player in my own fucking life?”

“Pretty much,” Shigaraki grinned, pleased that you were beginning to catch on to the rules. The game was finally getting started, and now that Shigaraki had taken care of those annoying first-level bosses, there wouldn’t be any more interruptions. They were lucky he had let them walk away, Shigaraki thought bitterly. They had messed with something that belonged to him, and so the temptation to kill them for it had been extremely strong. But no, holding their lives over you was too much fun to pass up. If anyone tried to take you away from him again though, he wouldn’t be quite so merciful. A cold hand was then laid on your shoulder and an even colder kiss was pressed against your temple.

“Now come on, you need to unpack.”

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eirian-houpe · 3 years

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The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 46

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Gaston (Once Upon a Time)

Additional Tags: Bookshop On the Corner, slightly AU, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Eventual Smut

Summary: Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community.

Winner of the 2020 Espenson Award, Best Book AU.

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 46 - The Sword of Damocles

Even though Belle knew she should feel good for what she had done for Chloe and Paige, and though she knew that things were going much better for them now that they had some help, in the days and weeks that followed, Belle felt a sense of foreboding that seemed to hang over her, like a pendulum ready to swing, or a shoe waiting to drop.

It was a heavy weight to carry, day in, day out, and it made her tired - weary. She kept herself to the library in the daytime, and in the evenings she stayed home with her books and her tea. She was relaxing. She didn’t need to be out gallivanting all night long, and certainly not painting the town Rabbit Hole Red.

Or so she told herself…

She sighed and walked to the window from which she could see the road that stretched away opposite the Library, looking to see if the tell-tale light was spilling from the pawn shop window. The pavement, still damp from the earlier rain sparkled with the warmth of yellow light that danced in mockery of her reticence to contact Mister Gold. Things had been… awkward, at best, since the argument they’d had the day after the Miner’s Day Festival, and she hated it. Still, she couldn’t avoid him forever, it was almost time to pay the rent, and if she knew one thing about Mister Gold that no one would dispute, it was that he was a stickler for getting his rent payments on time.

With another sigh she turned and leaned against the wall by the window, trying to convince herself that it was ridiculous, but in the end, all she ended up doing was making herself feel more depressed. Head hanging, she walked to the kitchen, and began to fill the kettle to make some fresh tea, but something stopped her.

This was not who she was. She was a woman who could stand up for herself; could move to a new town and get what she wanted. She was a woman who saw what was wrong and made things right, and that was damn well what she was going to do!

…starting tomorrow.

Tonight she needed respite. Tonight she needed something that would take her out of these four walls, would take her mind off of all the strange dreams and feelings that she couldn’t control; that would stop her from wondering just who Trude was, and why she’d got it in for Paige and wanted to keep her trapped in ignorance and squalor. She needed to get out of her head and find her heart again.

Before she could second guess herself, she set the kettle down, turned off the faucet, grabbed her coat and keys, and walked out of the door. She would take a walk. She would clear her head with a walk through Storybrooke and to the town line, to remind herself why she had fallen in love with the place from the very beginning.

Storybrooke after the rain was chilly, but it was a fresh kind of chill, the kind that nipped and enlivened and encouraged as one walked in it. As Belle walked she realized how much she had missed by making a recluse of herself, and all for what…? A weird evening, a foolish argument, and a bitter and twisted old woman. She let out a cleansing breath of laughter.

Her pace quickened a little as she left the lights of the town behind and walked along more rural roads, past the cemetery and out onto the road that cut through the woodland. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, but there was no telling when she might encounter a car coming along, and her overcoat wasn’t exactly reflective. Still, she was determined to reach the town line.

A smile came to her face when she spotted The Bend ahead; her tree would be nearby and beyond it, the town line not too much further out, but she slowed her steps and creased her face in a frown not too much afterwards. The silhouette of her tree was all wrong. It stood before her all misshapen, as though fungus had grown in nodules to stifle it from the air. Growing closer still she could see that they weren’t growths at all but book and packages and bags, which when she looked inside contained more books!

She hurried to the tree and began untying all of them. Some of the books were damaged beyond repair, water damage, the effects of wind and weather, but the others… If she took them back to the library, she might be able to salvage them. She smiled again, bordering on laughing and for a moment forgot that she was angry, and why she was angry, and all but threw her arms around the book tree. Then, practical as ever, she reached into the pocket of her coat and drew out the collapsible shopping bag she carried everywhere with her, opened it up and filled it to the brim with the books she thought she could save. This definitely had to be Hunter’s doing, and she was going to thank him personally.

The weather, and temperature, by the docks was rather less clement than in town and Belle pulled the coat more tightly around herself as she waited in a shadowy corner of the cannery grounds. It reminded her of old times, some would say better times, but Belle wasn’t so sure. In fact now that she was waiting for him, she wasn’t at all sure that it was sensible to meet him after all.

She had almost talked herself out of it when the rumble of the big rig’s engine trembled through the packed dirt of the parking lot and up into her feet, like the growl of some great dragon, waiting to devour her whole. The analogue didn’t fill her with confidence. Remaining in the shadows she watched as Hunter parked the truck and then jumped down without setting a foot on the steps. She took a deep breath as he went inside to get the foreman and the fork lift so that he could unload.

She waited until he was done, but as he drove the last of the pallets into the warehouse, Belle slipped from the shadows, and skittered across the better lit center of the yard like a rat hurrying to avoid detection until she reached the lee of the truck, then she stopped a little way behind the driver’s door.

He saw her as soon as he rounded the truck after closing the back doors.

“Belle!” he called out and the delight in his voice almost made her feel bad for the was she had been angry with him when they met in Boston. He leaned down before she could move away and wrapped his arms around her to hold her in a tight embrace until she pushed at him, for quite some time, and then he moved away. “My Belle?”

She scowled at that, but forced herself to remember her purpose.

“I came to say ‘thank you’,” she said.

“For what, I…” he trailed off as though in realization and then said, “Oh, the books on the tree. Yes?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“You’re welcome,” he said, and reached out toward her cheek, where a strand of hair had blown loose from it binding, but she ducked away. He had no right to touch her in that way. One thing for her to do the polite thing and thank him for bringing all the books, but quite another to allow him to believe that she had forgiven him.

Hunter sighed, and Belle frowned, and then in a small and contrite voice, he confessed, “This is my last run.” He shook his head. “You will not have to worry about me bothering you any more.”

“What do you mean, your last—?”

His second sigh stopped her words before she could complete the question. “My bosses. They found me carrying… other things than their cargo inside my truck,” he said then added quickly, “Nothing bad, I swear it, but… rules are rules, and…” another sigh, “for you I might have fought, brought more books, but… instead I resigned before I could be fired, and they were going to fire me.”

“What?” she said, before her brain processed the meaning, and then find another spark of anger in his mention of the books he smuggled for her. “Oh, no. Wait a minute. You are not putting this on me!”

“No, no, of course not, my Belle, I just…” He looked down at his hands, seemed to be examining his fingernails, though she could barely see through the mist of new anger that whirled almost purple in front of her eyes. Emotional blackmail, claiming her as his… no. No it would not do. “…I want you to know that… well… above…” he shrugged, “Well… I would have done anything for you.”

“Including lie, and cheat, and goodness knows what else?” the words left her lips before she could stop them, though she didn’t really want to. She just didn’t want to be cruel. If truth be told, she did feel somehow responsible for his plight, even though it hadn’t been her books that had been his contraband this time.

The thought of that only made her more angry, not less, learning now that in spite of his words to the contrary mere seconds ago, she was little better, to him, than all his other conquests - and she had to believe there were more than just the mother of his child, because there had been many boxes on those shelves in the shed at his garden plot.

“Perhaps it is best we say goodbye, if that is how you feel,” he said calmly.

“Oh, that is how I feel,” she Belle said coldly, and tucked her hands beneath her armpits, not because she was cold, rather, to stop herself from lashing out and slapping the calm and sorrowful expression from his face. “I should go.”

“I will drive you,” he told her

Inside she growled a low, panther like rumble at the thought that he would try and tell her that she would comply with his wishes, though she merely shook her head and said curtly, “I’ll make my own way, thank you.”

#rumbelle #slight au #cursed storybrooke #angst #eventual smut #the library beneath the clock tower #The Bookshop on the Corner

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hannitizer · 4 years

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To Have a Home part 13

Summary: After Draco is found guilty of an attempted murder, he is sentenced to the Lupin’s house with hopes he’ll finally understand what it means to have a family. Only problem? Draco doesn’t want it.

A/N: Hey Y’all! Here is part 13 to my story. I hope you all enjoy!

Here’s Part 14!

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“Okay, so what you’re going to want to do is put these two things under your armpits, and then swing your legs forward, like this…”

Draco watched as Isla swung her body forward on the crutches. Her jacket had been discarded on one of the chairs. Remus sat next to him, a puzzled look on his face.

“Isla, are you sure that you’re doing that right?”

She stopped mid-swing. “Do you want to do it, Wolf Man?”

“No no, it’s just… interesting. That’s all.”

Isla turned to Abigail. “What do you think, Gail?”

“Why don’t we let Draco try it out? He’s got to do it sometime.”

“There’s no way that you’re going to make me do that like some… pathetic muggle. I won’t do it.” Draco threw himself further into the couch, icy glare hitting each of them.

While Remus and Abigail looked at each other concerned, Isla laughed.

“Okay, Draco, listen up. Just because you’re throwing a temper tantrum doesn’t mean that everything gets to go your way. If it were up to me, I’d slap you a good one…” She looked over to Abigail’s stern face. “But because it’s not up to me, I won’t.”

Isla walked over to Draco, crutches swinging under her arm. She looked like she was ready to whack him with one, so Draco took cover behind Remus, trying to make himself as small as possible. Her looming presence was intimidating, something that scared him. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly, though.

“Please don’t hurt me!” He cried out, almost visibly shaking. He felt his breath come short, and it was getting harder and harder to convince himself to breathe in and out.

Before he could hold onto Remus, Isla was on him, taking him by the shoulders.

“Jeez kid, I would never hurt you like that. I was only kidding; I wouldn’t hurt you unless you gave me a reason to, and believe me, it has to be one hell of a reason. Are you okay?”

Draco didn’t respond, not moving at all in Isla’s arms. He looked from Isla to Remus, who was still sitting next to him, a pleading look in his eyes.

“It’ll be okay, Draco. I’ve never seen Isla hurt anyone. She may look intimidating, but deep down, she’s a softy.”

Isla hit him square in the chest. “Shut up Mooney. If you keep talking, I’m going to personally feed you to a dragon, and that’s a promise. I don’t care if you’re married to Abigail or not.”

“Let’s all take a deep breath, okay?” Abigail came from behind, a tray of juice and biscuits in her hands. She placed it on the dining room table before walking over to the group. “Draco, let’s try those crutches. Do you think you can do that?”

Draco looked at all three of them. He didn’t want a fight, but he also didn’t want to be carried by Remus everywhere, especially when he needed to use the bathroom. He slowly nodded his head, letting himself be helped by Remus and Isla onto the crutches.

After a few shaky moments, Draco was able to balance, his boot in the air and his arms wrapped desperately around the armholds. Isla held back a snort as Draco attempted to move forward, though he struggled immensely. Remus stood in front of him, and Abigail in back. Together they made an almost-sandwich around him, arms out ready to catch him.

It took a while, but eventually, Draco was able to get the hang of walking around on three legs instead of two. He felt almost like a pendulum, swinging back and forth. He had managed to make it from one side of the living room to the other. It took a lot of encouragement on Remus and Abigail’s part, but he had done it in the end. Draco flopped back onto the couch, dropping his crutches to the floor.

“No more,” he said, “I don’t think I can do anymore.”

“Oh, come on, Draco. Don’t be such a wimp.” Isla sat down next to him, picking up the crutches. “You can try a little more.”

“Why don’t you walk over to the table. We can have biscuits and juice then.” Abigail added, sitting down at one of the seats. Remus joined her, so that left just Isla and Draco on the couch. She handed him the crutches with a wink, walking over to join the Lupins.

After struggling to get himself on the crutches, Draco managed to hoist himself on and he slowly made his way over to the table. He took his time, carefully placing his okay foot on the ground followed by the two crutches. He smiled to himself, finally getting the hang of it.

It was like the time Luke had finally mastered the force. Or when Bilbo makes it to the lonely mountain. Or when Jo March…

What he didn’t see, however, was the bit of carpet one of his crutches had got caught on. He flew forward, colliding head-first into the kitchen table. Before any of the adults could even pull their wands out, Draco’s arm caught the side of the biscuit tray, sending biscuits and juice flying.

He landed face towards the ground, nose pressed flat. He let out a yelp of pain, struggling to hoist himself up.

“Oh my goodness, Draco! Are you alright?” Abigail was already at his side, trying to help him up. Isla was spelling the broken cups and biscuits away, and was about to dry his shirt when Remus suggested getting a new one entirely, going upstairs to fetch one.

“My face hurts.” He mumbled, trying to shield himself from Isla as she leaned down too.

“How about I get these out of here.” She said, taking the crutches and putting them next to his couch.

Abigail had already spelled his throbbing nose, which was hurting less already, and was looking for any other injuries. Remus returned shortly with a nice, long-sleeved off-white sweater. It was the one that he had seen Draco burrow in before, and he knew that, even though Draco would never admit, it was his favorite.

“Here,” he said, tossing it down to him, “put this on. It’ll feel nicer.”

Draco scootched away from Abigail, and took off his shirt, struggling a little to get it over his head. It only took a moment, however, and he put the sweater on, rubbing his fingers over the soft fabric.

It also took a moment for Isla to notice something that didn’t sit well with her. She frowned, pulling out her wand once more.

“Draco,” she advanced slowly on him, hoping that it wouldn’t upset him like before, “What is that on your back?”

He frowned a bit, craning his neck to look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Those marks, on your back, what are they from?” She prodded once more.

Remus carefully moved his shirt up in the back, much to Draco’s annoyance.

“Let go of me, mudblood!” he cried out, trying to shimmy out of his grip, but he only shushed him.

Isla lit her wand up, showering his back in light. What she thought she had seen was very much there. Scarring ran across his back, in every which way. Abigail gasped, immediately pulling out her wand to see if she could fix it, but everything she tried did nothing to it.

“Draco, what happened to you?” Isla asked in the quietest voice she could manage. Draco, in response, fought against Remus once more, screaming at him to let him go.

“No, Draco, you need to tell us what’s going on.”

“Was it someone you know? Did you do this? Someone in your family? A friend?” Isla tried probing harder, but Abigail held her arm up.

“Draco, did someone use sectumsempra on you?”

He paused fighting for a moment, looking up at her. “Potter used that… One day in the bathrooms at Hogwarts. But Professor Snape healed it.”

Abigail’s face read puzzled for a moment. “That’s what it looks like, but if Snape was the one to heal you, it shouldn’t have left that bad of scarring… Where did he hit you?”

Draco looked down. “... He hit me square in the chest. I didn’t think I was going to live; I thought I was going to die right there on the bathroom floor. Potter was lucky Professor Snape was around…”

“Abigail, can I talk to you… Privately.” Isla stood up, extending her hand for Abigail to grab on to.

“Remus, why don’t you get Draco situated back on the couch? I’ll be back in a moment. Draco, if you ever feel pain, let me know.”

The girls walked to the office just down the hallway as Remus lifted a hesitant Draco into his arms. As soon as the door closed to the boys, Isla started looking at the books that lined the walls.

“This doesn’t add up…” She mumbled under her breath, “Scars that deep shouldn’t come from half a year ago.”

“And if he was hit in the chest, the scars wouldn’t show up on his back. There’s got to be something going on that we aren’t seeing.”

“Well, Draco’s not going to be cooperative about it. Did you see him in there?”

“Yes, Isla, I know,” Abigail sighed, “I”ve been dealing with this for the better half of the month.”

“I don’t want to leave him like this, but I don’t think he’s going to talk about it today.” Isla said, giving up her attempt to find the book she was looking for. There had to be well over a thousand books in the room. She was surprised that Remus and Abigail could find what they were looking for half of the time.

“How about we both look into it, and we’ll talk about it when we find something. Until then, I’ll just keep a closer eye on him, see if he says anything.”

“Good idea. I should get back to the house anyways. I left Alex watching our surprise guest this morning, and Tonks is probably mad that I’m not helping her track down Narcissa.”

“Do you have any news on her?” Abigail asked, perking up when she heard her name.

“Nothing much. We have a few places that we’re looking at. We think that Voldemort might just have her at the Malfoy manor, but you can never know for sure unless we can actually get there, but that’s a whole other issue for a different day.” Isla pulled Abigail into a tight hug.

“Bye, Abigail. Stay in contact, and keep that baby safe!”

“Shhhh, I haven’t told Draco about them yet.” Abigail whispered.

“Well, get on that!” called Isla, opening the door of the office. She gave Remus a hug goodbye as well, and ruffled the hair on Draco’s head before letting herself out the front door, walking to the border of the property, and aparatting away.

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gjnnypotter · 4 years

Text

Mashed Parsnips.

This was written for the Hinny Discord Incognito Elf exchange for @thebiwholived. There are some stronger themes and slight language in this, so read with caution (there is some fluff though, I promise). I hope you all have a magical festive season!

The day had started out brilliantly. So brilliantly that he should have known, really, that it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Things never did when he was around.

The feast that Mrs Weasley had cooked up for lunch had been ruined by the arrival of Percy with none other than the Minister himself. It made him feel sick, knowing that the rogue Weasleys arrival was conducted by Scrimgeour in an attempt to get to him, that the manipulative move was made against the family because of him being in their home; and most of all, that their familial love had been taken advantage of. Because of him.

[[MORE]]

Couldn’t resist dropping in my arse, he thought bitterly. He had returned to the kitchen earlier on to be met by the sight of Percy standing stiffly with mashed parsnips flowing like a stream of lava down his face before he spun on his heel and stormed out after the Minister - all while Mrs Weasley sobbed into her gravy stained apron. His guilt-filled gaze had swept over their faces taking in each one in great detail - Ron, incandescent with rage, had been standing with his hands balled into fists; Bill, his handsome face twisted into one mirroring his shock; Mr Weasley, Fred and George all glowing a bright, furious red.

But it had been Ginny’s expression that made him almost double over. It had been hers that made him stutter a whispered apology and run. She had stared her brother down with something akin to resentment in her eyes, with her brow so narrowed that it made that stare appear even more intense. Her fiery hair rippled slightly as her shoulders rose and fell with each breath she took, her spoon clenched in her white-knuckled grip as a thick, pale substance dripped from it onto the floor. It wasn’t that hard for him to put two and two together.

It wasn’t this, though, that had made his gut twist as though a knife had been plunged into it.

It was when everyone at the table had turned to look at him instead of at each other that she had dropped her eyes to the table and her lip had quivered. It was that one small wobble when she thought no one had been watching that had made his chest clench to the point he had to bite his lip to force down the whimper that was oh-so desperate to slip past his lips.

So here he was now - sitting on his bed while staring out of the window, completely surrounded by orange and feeling like shit. He ran his hand through his hair with a deep sigh, his eyes monitoring the progress of a small snowflake that floated gently down from the grey sky.

The hand that was raking through his hair slowly made its way to his forehead. His fingers lightly traced the jagged scar on his forehead. Something stirred inside him, the same something that he had felt last year when he thought he was being possessed. Self-loathing. He knew it wasn’t just a figment of his imagination, but a fact that whoever he grew to love would suffer.

Him being here was selfish. He couldn’t stay. He was Harry Potter. The Chosen One with a target on his back, and while that target was still there - he was a danger to everyone around him. He was a liability. Lying to himself and pretending that everything was ok wasn’t an option anymore. He had to face the cold hard truth - he was alone. Sirius dying because of him had put the nail in the coffin. Even the mere thought of his godfather struck a blade of grief through his heart, and no matter how often Hermione prompted him to speak about him - Harry couldn't. He’d rather swallow sand than speak about him. But he’d never admit that out loud.

It hurt.

He winced at the sharp pain in his scar, panicking before taking note of the congealed blood underneath his fingernails. He stood up and paced, wringing his hands, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but The Burrow. He had to get out.

Don’t be stupid, piped up the rational voice in his head, what would that achieve, you’ve tried it before - remember?

He kicked the leg of Ron’s desk in frustration, then immediately regretted it as a fresh wave of pain jolted his toe. Swearing, he dropped back down onto the bed, sneering at the poster of Dragomir Gorgovitch who smiled down at him, carefree and winking.

Wanker.

The faint sound of voices and footsteps from the kitchen wafted up from the bottom floor, but Harry couldn’t find it in himself to join them. He felt exhausted. Drained. Since when had simply getting through each day become so hard? Sometimes he felt like falling asleep, and maybe not waking up again. It was a dangerous thought, he knew that, but it would be kinder than the alternative that had been spelt out for him by the prophecy. And it would bring some level of control back into his life because right now, it felt like he had none. It felt like his voice was lost in amongst the calling of war, and the path that had been laid out for him by Dumbledore wasn’t so much as a path as it were a cage he was trapped in.

And he’d be with Sirius again.

He gave himself a mental shake, pushing his glasses up and sluggishly scrubbing his hands over his face. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him it was nearing two, and another glance out of the window showed him that the snow was still gently sailing down in intricate swirling patterns.

What a Merry-bloody-Christmas.

He turned back from facing the window, fully intending on lying down and having an impromptu nap when a photo fell directly into his line of sight. It was of the Weasley family when they were in Egypt. He remembered, fondly, Ron waving that blasted newspaper clipping around for weeks at the start of their third year, shoving it into the faces of whoever would look. But it was the red face of the girl in the middle of the shot that was burned into his mind even when he forced his eyes shut.

Ginny.

Even when she plucked that maggot out of his hair his stomach had fluttered. He couldn’t face her though, or her family for that matter, not after that mess at lunch. Not after they had been used by a man of the highest authority just because he, Harry, was in their home. The indignant crease of her brow and the way she had forced herself together made him feel as if he were about to break apart.

It was with these thoughts that a soft, yet firm knock rang through the room.

‘Harry?’

Speak of the devil.

He scrambled up off of the bed and tugged down the sleeves of the jumper he was wearing, exhaling through his nose as he opened the door.

‘Ginny.’

She looked beautiful standing there, framed by the door as she gently rolled her sleeves up, a soft expression gracing her features. He was sure that Ron would hit him if he were to see inside his head. Harry swung the door open a bit wider, and she stepped into the room. The glaring orange on the walls appeared dull next to her hair which appeared to be ablaze as it swept like a pendulum across her back before settling as she sat on her brother’s bed. He sat on his own bed opposite her, shifting as her chocolatey stare penetrated him like an X-ray.

‘Ron was going to come up and get you, but then mum brought out more Christmas pudding and… well, you know how he is. I swear that stomach of his could still be heard through about half a dozen silencing charms.’ She shrugged with a smirk.

‘Does his stomach ever stop rumbling?’ Harry asked coyly.

‘No, I don’t suppose it does.’

The freckles by her lips shifted as she smiled. They were hypnotising, reminiscent of the stars scattered across the sky.

Ginny leaned forward, her right hand coming up subconsciously to massage her earlobe as she spoke, ‘Lunch wasn’t your fault. I know you think it was.’ She said bluntly, cutting right to the chase.

‘How can you say that? The only reason Scrimgeour came was to speak to me.’ Harry said, confused.

‘Yes,’ she spoke slowly, both hands coming to rest on her knees, ‘but you didn’t ask him to, did you? And you didn’t ask him to bring that git with him. It’s not your fault they came and did that, its that joke of a Minister’s.’

Her belittling of the Minister was like music to his ears, but it failed to distract him from the heavy pressure on his chest. Harry shook his head, breath catching as he saw her frown, ‘If I wasn’t here, then that wouldn't have happened. It would be better if I just… I don’t know… left. You would all be better off if you didn’t know me. I bring what’s going on out there-‘ he gestured vaguely to the window, ‘- so much closer to you. You’d all be safer if I weren’t around.’

‘Oh?’ Ginny said simply, a single dark eyebrow quirking in what looked like mirth, ‘That’s the biggest pile of shit I’ve heard in a long time.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

He was confused. Really bloody confused. And that pointed look she was giving him wasn’t helping. He looked back blankly.

‘What was it that you said? We’d be so much safer if you weren’t around? Need I remind you of last year? Without you, my dad would be dead. And I would be too, don’t forget.’ She said the last part quietly, the mirth fading out from her voice.

‘I didn’t.’

Her eyes bored into his, their soft brown appearing darker to him in the dark grey light from the clouds. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He didn’t want to.

Years could have passed for all Harry knew. It was as though time had ground to halt. He saw nothing but her, cared about nothing other than her in that moment. The tight coil of guilt that had wrapped itself around him was loosening, and the fact that he could breathe again went unnoticed as they shared a connection that detailed more than words could ever illustrate.

It was a thud from downstairs that eventually snapped them out of their joint reverie. He felt hot, even though the snow was slowly piling up on the windowsill outside. She looked perfectly composed though, breaking into a grin as she stood up and stopped in front of him.

‘Now - that’s enough moping for today, you’ve used up your daily limit.’

‘Have I really? I was hoping to get another few minutes in.’

Ginny shook her head loftily, crossing her arms as she sauntered to the door, ‘No can do I’m afraid. It’s Christmas after all, we can’t have you holed up in here all afternoon.’

Harry stood up too. He would rather be downstairs with the Weasleys, there was no point in denying it to himself. One in particular. And though the guilt hadn’t fully dissipated, he couldn’t trouble them any further by wallowing.

If that reason hadn’t been enough, the way her eyes lit up when she saw him stand certainly was.

‘If we hurry there might be some pudding left.’ She said as she pulled open the door.

‘I doubt that, not if Ron’s been at it.’

‘I’m sure Mum will have more. She’ll have taken precautions.’

They trekked down the stairs, Harry admiring the way Ginny’s feet lightly danced around the creaky steps. The sounds of the wireless and incomprehensible chatter began to crescendo as they neared the sitting room.

‘Finally,’ Said Ron thickly through a bite of what looked like a mince pie, ‘I was about to come up and get you myself.’

‘Sit down dear and help yourself, there’s still plenty left over.’ Mrs Weasley said kindly, but Harry was disconcerted to see how bloodshot her eyes were. He looked around as a small hand lightly touched his arm, trailing after her as Ginny pulled him over to the table and snatched up a mince pie, staring at him as she took a ridiculously sized bite.

Harry snorted as she struggled to chew, dodging a playful smack that she aimed at his chest. Her hand was covering her mouth as she attempted to stop the overflowing crumbs from escaping past her fingers. Her muffled laughs were endearing.

‘Eyes bigger than your stomach?’ He asked her when she finally swallowed.

‘No, I don’t think so. Got there eventually, didn’t I?’ She said with playful cockiness as she wiped her hands on her thighs.

They joined Ron and the rest of the Weasleys, as well as Lupin and Fleur, plopping down onto the sofa next to the tree, the gnome still glaring down at them from its perch on the top. They spoke of nonsense, the aching feeling that had burdened him earlier on receding as he sat in between Ron and Ginny underneath the colourful paper-chained ceiling.

‘...and then by the time we got there, the poor Muggles had been cornered by them! A right old palaver it caused, the Obliviators had their work cut out for them. This was a few years back, mind you.’

‘Merlin, that’s genius. We could capitalise on this, people would love them. And of course we could modify them so that they aren’t quite as bloodthirsty.’ Fred murmured to George who was nodding enthusiastically, both of them ignoring their mother’s tuts.

‘I still don’t understand.’ exclaimed Ron

‘Were you not listening, Won-Won? The Muggles were attacked by a swarm of random, weird looking, small metal things, and Dad and Perkins had to set them to rights. It’s not that hard to get.’

‘I got that part thanks-’ He rolled his eyes, ‘-I just don’t understand why someone would charm something so stupid. A biting toaster I can understand, but why use something small and pointless like that to cause trouble when you could use something so much more impressive, you know what I mean?’ He finished. The rest of them all nodded, amused.

‘One of the Obliviators said that they were actually muggle game pieces. I think he said they were from a board game called “Monotily”. I was thinking of going out to find it so we could play it today.’

‘Do you mean Monopoly, Mr Weasley?’ Harry asked smiling, sipping on his eggnog.

Mr Weasley tipped his glass of fire whiskey at him, the amber liquid close to sloshing over the rim, ‘That’s the one, Harry.’

‘I remember the Dursley’s playing it once.’ He said with a wistful sigh.

‘Only the one time?’ Ginny asked. The large, pink sequin hat she got from the cracker she pulled with him was tipping precariously to the side.

‘Yeah. The first time they played it Dudley was so angry that he went bankrupt that he swiped the pieces onto the floor and then stomped on the board until it snapped.’

‘And you’re smiling about that?’

‘It was rather funny,’ He shrugged, ‘and I managed to hide the little pieces without anyone noticing so I could play with them later. The dog was my favourite.’

Ron laughed, as did Fred and George. Ginny laughed too, a loud laugh that forced her to put her eggnog down as she clutched her stomach. Harry’s stomach fluttered pleasantly, and he found himself joining them.

‘How about a good old family game of Kappas and Kelpies while we wait for tea?’

‘We just had lunch a few hours ago, you pig!’ Ginny shot at Ron.

‘And in a few hours from now, I’ll be ready for tea.’ Harry and Ginny shared an exasperated look as Ron left in search of the game.

‘Fred, George - careful before your mother sees.’ Mr Weasley spoke lowly, throwing cautious looks at Mrs Weasley who had disappeared through to the kitchen. But the twins continued chuckling; Fred miming launching something at George, who in turn had the most ridiculous expression of utmost disgust on his face. Harry felt as though he knew exactly which scene it was they were recreating.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Ginny snapped. The twins froze.

‘You need to put more oomph into your fling Fred. That amount of effort wouldn’t get it anywhere. More like this-’ She sprang up off of the sofa and closed one eye, flicking her wrist expertly to ping the imaginary substance through the air, ‘-you see?’ Harry laughed at the display.

‘That was some good aim you had by the way. You got him right on the glasses - that’ll be hard to get off.’ He nodded at her, and her cheeks turned slightly pink. It was probably a trick of the light.

‘I’ve honestly never felt anything as satisfying as chucking mashed parsnips at that prick’s face. Not even getting the quaffle through the hoop comes close to it.’ She sighed dreamily, staring up at the ceiling as her hat finally slipped off and dropped to the floor with a soft thump.

‘I second that. I’d happily hand over my bat to do that to him again.’ George agreed, Fred nodding beside him.

‘I should’ve done that to Scrimgeour.’ Harry said after another sip of eggnog.

Ginny tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, Harry watching intently as it slid from behind her ear back to cover her face almost immediately. She impatiently swept it back again, though this time it remained where she wanted it to be.

‘Better yet, greet him next time you see him with a good old fist to the face.’ She said with a smirk.

‘There’s always that.’

The snow was still falling, and Harry could see that Percy and the Minister’s footprints had been almost completely obscured, only a faint imprint remained as the fresh layer blanketed them. His eyes swept over the scene in front of him, the twins and Ginny bantering back and forth; Mr and Mrs Weasley chatting with Lupin on the opposite side of the room; Bill and Fleur sitting on a cosy armchair with their hands entwined and Ron off clattering about somewhere in search of the game. His gaze fell back on Ginny, and the way the twinkling lights from the tree set her face in a golden glow.

Maybe it was a Merry-bloody-Christmas after all.

#gjnnypotter fic #hinny #christmas oneshot #missing moment #half blood prince

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darkmindsotome · 4 years

Text

Risque Rouge pt15

Tagging: @umbralaperture @otome-smut-queen @silver-fox-of-azuchi @tsundere-mitsuhide @jennacat84

General warnings for the whole fic: Angst, some fluff, Mental health issues, emotional things, trauma, blood, death and possible triggers. Please read responsibly.

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

---

Chapter 15

As plans went this had been perfect. It was an accident that could have happened at any time and in any part of the city. He was lucky to already know exactly where he could find a coach without its driver, all he needed was the perfect moment. Everything was arranged and it would have been considered simple bad luck that someone should be fatally crushed under the sheer force of the runaway horse dragging its carriage. It would have worked, should have worked.

Latour looked at the failure of what should have been a gloriously devastating demise. His eyes burned with hatred as he watched the female interact with the two men from his hiding place.

“Curses!” He hissed as his fist pounded the wall of the building before, he spun on his heel snarling as he walked away.

---

This had to be an out of the frying pan into the fire moment. Evie watched the two men in a silent standoff feeling completely useless. It was true she had run and she was scared. Yes, Comte had been part of the reason for that but he hadn’t hurt her. She did wonder about his approach when they were at the café but not once in all the times, they had been together, was he anything less than pleasant and kind.

Evie was more than aware he had every right to be upset with her right now. Acting the way she had must have truly hurt him. She saw the pained look in his eyes when she reflexively slapped his hand away. There was more there though, he had a melancholy look that was complete forgiveness. It was as if he would accept anything no matter how much it hurt him as long as it was what she wished. It hurt.

While her chest constricted in the grip of a coiling serpent intent on crushing her the man blocking her spoke.

“What sneaky games are you trying to play with this girl? Are you not entertained enough?” There was a tangible threat from the man shielding her from Comte. He was speaking without formality which could have meant he didn’t care to be polite to a potential menace but the fact Comte called him by name must mean they knew each other.

“I am not playing games, sneaky or otherwise. Genevieve is my charge and in my care.” Comte was smiling that same smile he had on his face when talking to Arthur.

“Then why was she so terrified of you just now?” Napoleon moved slightly and Evie had visions of this entire situation going bad fast. She didn’t know if Comte was aware of the look on his own face or if it was a miscalculation on his part because right now it was more taunting than intimidating. For all the mistakes made so far, she didn’t wish to have one result in a fight in front of her. She broke free of the human barrier, with pain lancing up her leg and placed herself between the two men.

“Please stop.” She gave a quick glance to Comte over her shoulder before turning to Napoleon. “Thank you, Monsieur, you rescued me.”

To say Comte was stunned would have been a very accurate description right now. This woman really did seem to swing on a pendulum to the point where she was hard to predict. He thought he had scared her and she would not go anywhere near him so why was she standing as if to protect him now?

“I only did what anyone would do.” Napoleon seemed to be equally perplexed looking at the sudden change in the woman who was basically a trembling mess only minutes before. His green eyes looked behind her quizzically towards Comte who didn’t know what to say.

He had felt and still did feel terrible for how he handled everything back at the café. Hindsight has a way of making every situation seem like a bad move and he already was well aware even without the help of reflection that his approach was a terrible choice.

“No, you did more because you were the one to risk yourself on my foolishness.” Evie lowered her head the trembling in her body was still very likely to make a repeat appearance but right now she was determined to make sure nothing else happened. “What this man says is true. I am in his care, he is my sponsor. It was true I was careless and running but…”

“Evie.” Comte’s voice was quiet. His eyes fell on the back of her lowered head in awe.

She was hurt she had been scared and still suffering the aftermath of everything that had been said and done. He could feel it, he felt her swirling emotions as strongly as if they were his own, the pain in her taking grip on his own body. Still, she was trying to smooth over a situation that was nowhere near as drastic as she thought it was. A wry smile formed on his face and his expression softened as he watched her. She was stronger than she knew and so beautiful. Napoleon didn’t miss the subtle interaction and looked at the young woman in front of him as if he just remembered something.

“So, you are the Mademoiselle from the mansion?”

“You know me?” Evie looked up her emerald eyes finding his clear jade green ones.

There really was something about this man, it was different from Comte and also different when compared to the other soldier in the mansion. It was a quiet dominance that gave subliminal weight to anything he did, even standing still talking with him projected the idea you were talking to a born leader.

“Of you. Sebastian informed me of a new guest and said that they were a lady.” The air around Napoleon felt much friendlier as it seemed the misunderstanding from before had all but been forgotten. Evie looked back at Comte. He said he would tell the rest of the guests himself, not that she wanted to pry into why Sebastian had been the one to inform this man instead.

There was obviously a little tension between the two men, it wasn’t bad, but it was certainly one that came from a place of respect rather than blind trust. It was very hard to explain and she didn’t even understand how she could feel something so slight from people she had just met.

Uncle had always said she was very sensitive and observant but this was more, it was a feeling that she instinctively didn’t question. People talk about intuition but that had always seemed a little off to her. Even with a strong intuition it was easy to second guess and lose yourself. This was a profound sensation and it was strange because it felt a lot like being more than one person at once in her own body.

“Genevieve this is Napoleon, he is also a guest of mine.” Comte issued the late introduction after the conversation finally seemed to allow for it.

“Is there anyone in Paris who is not a guest of yours?” Evie’s question was out long before her good sense could talk her out of it. Her eyes went saucer round and she clamped her hand over her mouth. “Erm…”

By this point, Comte was used to her little outbursts. Whilst they still had a tendency to catch him off guard, he was inclined to look upon her fondly rather than feel the desire to chastise her. Besides judging by her reaction and the way she was currently looking she was giving herself a much harsher lecture than he could. While Comte and Evie were looking at each other a loud eruption of laughter burst forth from Napoleon.

“Pff -- Bwahaha!”

“I’m sorry.” Evie muttered her apology flinching when Comte placed a hand on her shoulder. Noticing her reaction, he retracted his hand. The brief touch of warmth he felt freezing over as he felt the penalty strike him as he feared it would if he hurt her. He tried to ignore the way that information sat like a steel weight in his chest. Convincing himself he should be content with simply watching her.

“No don’t be I – hahaha – I’m glad to see the shock didn’t do any damage to your body or conviction. Haha pardon. I like how honest you are.” Napoleon was struggling to stop himself from continuing his peel of laughter his shoulders were still shaking as he tried to stifle it and speak.

“If we are finished here, I think it would be best to return home.” Comte interjected which seemed to help Napoleon gather enough power to get his laughter under control.

“Home?” Evie asked curiously before taking an interest in the people around them. The gathering of onlookers was a little smaller but she was very aware that even if they had returned to their previous tasks they were still glancing in her direction.

Still, when Comte said home he meant the mansion and there was a feeling of chilling dread that filled her chest as she thought of that. Could she go back there and cheat what she feared most in her mind? Would she avoid being the source of someone else’s pain or would she fail and have another torment to add to her collection?

“Yes, we need to tend to that ankle of yours.” Comte drew a little closer, sensing of her rising anxiety.

He wanted to take her hand as he had always done but she recoiled at his touch and he did not wish to be an added source of her discomforts. He hoped that his words could be enough reassurance to her and she would choose to come back. He tried to ignore the selfish desire he had to be alone with her once more. He wanted to apologise properly and allow for dialogue to once more be open between them. He knew how detrimental the passage of time could be as it passed by removing the opportunity to speak freely. The only survivor of the situation being the air of extreme awkwardness that hung like a cloud.

“I don’t really…” Evie hesitated and winced again the pain in her ankle silencing her.

Napoleon hadn’t pushed for details and he was not stupid enough to get in the middle of a lover’s quarrel. He could see the concern in Comte’s eyes as he watched the young girl with black hair. He had seen similar looks in the eyes of men on the battlefield. It was a look of understanding your fate is in the hands of another and acceptance that their actions would define the world to come.

The woman was curious, it wasn’t that he was immune to her charms he felt them keenly drawing him in. It made him instinctively wish to help her. It was strange and he had felt something similar when he had experienced meeting Comte for the first time. He took a certain level of pride in being a good judge of character and he found her to be interesting, honest and trustworthy.

“I’ll join you as well as I was on my way back anyway.” Napoleon spoke up in response to the idea of returning. He had been on his way back anyway so it was of little concern to him if he travelled alone or with companionship. If his presence meant that the young lady should feel more settled than if she were to travel with only le Comte for company then he considered it his duty to do at least that much.

“Did you not ride into town?” Comte enquired feeling a deflated sensation taking hold of him.

“Not today.” Napoleon didn’t seem to care or notice the shadows crossing the amber eyes of the pure blood Count. He did, however, slip his arm around the waist of the injured girl. He did it in such a way that it was completely natural, a silent declaration of the fact this is where it should be. Evie could not find the words to protest and found her weight naturally leaning on the strong arm around her as Napoleon guided her towards the carriages.

Comte knew it was to support her and help her. He knew it was a purely platonic motion and there was nothing meaningful about it. Logically he knew all this and still a dark whisper in his mind had him questioning every small glance and muscle twitch between the two now walking in front of him.

“Well isn’t that splendid?”

---

“So, it failed.” Amos sat mulling over the ill-fated news as he watched the foam dissolve on the head of beer in his glass.

“Yes. There was interference and the female found protection at the most inconvenient time.” Latour had appeared like a tempest and was working his anger out on a bowl of nuts crushing the shells in his bare hands, placing their contents to the side. He didn’t really like nuts, he didn’t really enjoy any human food anymore. It was all ash in his mouth.

Blood was all he craved to slate his thirst and fill his belly. Alcohol provided a change in pace, whilst providing natural cover from the passing observer. Cigarettes helped keep him busy, it was a throwback to his time as a human. Watching the curling smoke from the lit shredded tobacco, how it filled his lungs. It helped him focus, it helped him think and it blocked out some of the atrocious scents of the cattle around him.

“Not by the Reo’s doing?” Amos asked watching the bowl of mixed nuts grow empty. He was a little pleased that his disciple had learnt to vent his anger in a way that drew less attention to him. He remembered how troublesome it had been in previous years during training when he had been forced to keep a tight leash on him or risk exposure.

“No, it was another. One from the mansion although they are not part of the familia.” Latour reached a particularly stubborn walnut and after squeezing it towards its obliteration he finally seemed to relax.

“Did they suspect foul play?” Amos drank the dregs of his pint and scooped up a handful of the freshly shelled nuts on the table.

“No, My Lord” Latour confirmed what was possibly the only saving grace of the misadventure. Failure was not an option Latour knew it would spell the end of everything for him. His master had no use for tools that could not fulfil a task.

“Good, then there is still a chance we can approach the matter again.” Amos smiled the lamplight caught the very tip of his exposed fangs before he expertly moved his head playing it off as a trick of the light for anyone who might have seen it.

“What would you have me do?”

---

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rivetrashrine · 5 years

Text

“Mercy” - Rivetra Oneshot

As the Survey Corps. near the walls for a safe return home, the expedition takes an unexpected turn for the worse. After being protected by Captain Levi, Petra finds her self stranded and without ODM gear.

So this is an excerpt from a Rivetra long fic called “Disbanded” that still needs A LOT of work. Since I honestly don't know if it will ever come to fruition, I thought I would at least share this particular chapter which works quite well as a oneshot. ~ Mitsuki 😊

Mercy

The sun hung brightly in the sky at noon as the Survey Corps. trotted from their resupply unit back to the walls as planned. Combat ensued with ten titans within the early hours of their expedition, which was certainly not ideal, but not detrimental either. It felt like another "routine" expedition. No abnormals were spotted. Nothing particularly useful about the titans was learned from this journey. The casualty toll was about 30% per usual. It was a horrifying number, but it was the gruesome norm.

Petra glanced to the right, catching a glimpse of Captain Levi. It was dangerous to let your guard down for even a second, but she couldn't resist the chance to admire his appearance. Everything seemed brighter and clearer beyond the walls, whether psychologically or physically, the soldiers all seemed to be in agreement. The direct sunlight revealed the dimension of Levi's hair. His undercut came across as a smoky black while the longer strands atop his head appeared as black as a crow's feathers with hints of blue-black framing his face. His stern, deep blue eyes glistened like tanzanite gems.

"Do you see something, Petra?" Levi questioned.

"Oh, uh—no sir." She moved her gaze back to its proper stance, thinking to herself, "Sorry Captain, that's a bit of a white lie... I see a very handsome man who I respect and admire deeply. What would you say to that?"

Oluo let out an arrogant yawn. "It looks like I didn't get to add anything to my kill count this time."

"Hey, don't say that shit! Are you trying to jinx us?" Eld said with hostility.

"Ah, calm down, ok? I'm glad we didn't have to deal with them. I was just joking."

Petra glanced over at Levi once more, completely ignoring the conversation of her squadmates.

"Captain?"

"What is it, Petra?"

"You look uneasy. Are you alright?"

Levi had felt a sense of impending doom all day. His gut instincts rarely steered him wrong, but it seemed irrational to think this way after such a smooth-sailing expedition.

"I'm fine. It's just too bright out today." The truth didn't seem worth mentioning at this point, the walls were already in sight.

Mike turned his nose to the right and gave the air a whiff.

"There's a storm coming on... and at least one titan heading this way." He sniffed once more. "No— three titans at three o'clock."

"Really? It's hard to believe with this clear sky, but you're never wrong," Nanaba replied.

"We'll increase our speed at the first drop of rain or titan sighting, but we aren't too far now," Erwin commented.

Surely enough, in the blink of an eye, a hellish uproar of thunder deafened the soldiers. The sky swelled with darkness and Levi’s stomach tightened.

"All units full speed ahead towards the walls! Avoid combat and focus on your own survival!" Erwin shouted.

The Survey Corps. typically sighted about 30 titans during each journey, most of which could be evaded by changing the formation's course. On an average expedition, the scouts were left with no choice but to engage combat with roughly seven to ten titans. Whether their destination was the wall or one of their bases, the use of signal flares indicating directional change and titan sightings was always the key to survival, and unfortunately this put them at Mother Nature's mercy.

Rain battered down on their wings of freedom as the Survey Corps. pushed forward. Captain Levi squinted in the nearly blinding downpour to see if his squad was still behind him. A thick cloud of fog rolled in and blanketed their flank, completely obscuring the view of any distant solider. Who would have guessed the temperamental July weather would be such a devastating hindrance, and at the last minute?

The captain was aware that at least 21 titans, in addition to the ten killed, were spotted since leaving their resupply point. He always meticulously kept a mental note of how many changes the formation made in it’s direction, and which paths they took to avoid the titans. A cloud of darkness loomed above the team as flashes of lightning granted brief moments of visibility to search for nearby titans. A barrage of hail stung their faces and shoulders like angry hornets during the scouts' desperate journey toward the walls. The mud beneath them further hindered their movements.

"Ah!" Petra’s horse lost it's footing in a puddle and toppled over onto the rain-soaked ground. She flew forward, just a few meters in front of her steed. Oluo exclaimed "Petra!" As her spooked horse regained footing and carried on in her direction, Petra was moments away from being trampled.

"Continue forward, no matter what comes our way!" Captain Levi ordered while darting towards Petra on his own horse. Petra cried out "AAAH!!" as she began to roll out of her horse’s way. She heard a sharp SNAP as she felt hooves stomp down on the body of her vertical maneuvering gear and watched in horror as the leather straps that attached it broke away. Levi quickly pulled her from the ground and onto his horse.

"Are you alright!?" he shouted over the roaring wind as she clung to him.

Petra looked at Levi with mud smeared across her face and shoulder.

"Captain, yes! But my horse crushed my gear! My blades are still ok in their holsters!"

Though they were just a few meters behind Eld, Gunther, and Oluo, the eerie fog kept them completely hidden. The trio spotted a 10 meter abnormal, stomping towards the captain and Petra. Oluo looked in a state of panic and yelled "SHIT!"

"Should we go back and help them?!" asked Gunther.

"No, the captain said to continue forward!" Eld commanded, gritting his teeth.

"Petra, move to safety!" Levi shouted as he flew off his horse towards the titan, aiming to sever it’s ankle.

She screamed in horror, "Captain!!"

Of all the times to be without 3-D mobility, this was the absolute worst. She blindly and tearfully continued forward, leaving her precious captain behind. She believed in his strength, but also couldn't ignore the odds against him. The subtle sound of his blades in the distance began to fade. If he did defeat the titan, she wouldn’t be able to see the steam from his kill. How far away was Captain Levi? How long had she been riding since he started fighting that monstrosity? If she were to make it home alive, could she live with being responsible for her beloved captain’s death? Would he be able to summon her horse and escape? Her anxious thoughts spread through her head like wildfire.

"This is it," she thought. "This isn’t how I want to die... but I know I have given this world everything I could. I can at least leave this life knowing that I’ve fulfilled my duty... but I wish I could have told you, captain, how special you are to me..."

She felt the ground shake. "More thunder?"

The faint outline of a titan emerged from the fog. It looked to be just a meter behind her. "Damn it!"

Though sweating and shaking, she prepared her blades for battle in case she couldn't outrun it. She was a soldier. Even if all odds were against her, she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Petra rode at full speed changing direction, hoping to get the titan off her trail. The damn thing chased her relentlessly, as if it had a personal vendetta against the young soldier. She gasped as the monster lurched forward from ground level, jaws wide open and crawling on all fours, nearly taking out her and Levi's horse. Its body was frail and child-like for a titan, no more than three meters long; but its speed was deadly. Petra screamed out in rage as she spun around to face the titan. She furiously threw her blades into the eyes of the beast, warranting her 60 seconds to formulate a plan of attack and to finish it off. Quickly, she forced the mechanism to attach a fresh set of blades into place, pinching her fingers in the process. It stung, and blood began to pool under the superficial layer of her skin. She felt her finger throb as she pulled the reigns of Levi's horse until they fell behind the titan, nearly touching it's left side.

"Just a little more," she thought as they drew closer together. She crouched cautiously atop her captain's horse, grasping the reigns for stability. Petra took in the thick, moist air through her nostrils as she jumped over the titan's shoulder, and onto its neck, piercing its nape with her right sword. The titan shrieked as it stood back up from all fours. Petra clung to the handle of her blade for dear life. If she were to let go, she would tumble to the ground and surely be at the titan's mercy once it's eyes regenerated. But if she didn't retract her blade, she'd never be able to kill it. Petra was quick on her feet, but she rarely had to engage a titan on her own, let alone without ODM gear! She realized the anatomy of the titan's short, stubby arms prevented it from being able to reach her. But the titan soon fell back down onto all fours and bucked like an angry bull. She grasped a lock of its hair and managed to pull her blade out, creating a six inch lesion in the titan's nape. As she noticed the decreasing amount of steam emanating from the titan's face, she knew she was nearly out of time. Life and death were just moments apart from one another.

"I hope this works." She flipped a blade upside down before grasping both in hand. She swung back and forth from the lock of hair like a pendulum and timed the peak of her swing with the titan’s upward buck as she let go. She had seen Levi’s signature move so many times, but he always moved too quickly for her to fully decipher exactly what his technique entailed. She spun feverishly and ran both blades across the titan's nape as gravity pulled her back down.

Petra cried out "Die, die you monster!" hacking away at it’s flesh like a butcher. She ripped away the outer layer of the titan’s skin. A blood-curdling scream of agony exploded from the titan as it struggled to get back up. Blood and bits of flesh flew across the battle field. Petra made sure the bastard stayed trapped on the ground to feel her fury. She took another swing, cutting even further, reaching the devil’s tendons. Strike after strike, she was further strengthened by her rage. The screams of her enemy finally silenced, as she felt metal scrape against bone. The all too familiar smell of dissolving flesh encompassed her. The odor was rancid like rotten eggs. It was something she never quite got used to. The combination of smoke and rain left her eyes puffy and irritated.

She sat on her knees for a moment, breathing heavily and frantically whipping her head back and forth, searching for Levi’s horse. Her exhausted body jogged, tracing the horse’s footprints. Here she had just done the impossible: defeat a titan by blade alone. But that STILL wasn’t enough to keep her from dying. Regardless of this unfortunate circumstance, like a true soldier, Petra collected herself and ran as fast as she could through the muddy, sinking ground. She heard a horse’s neigh in the distance, and continued in that direction.

After just seconds of running, a crack of lightning deafened her as she felt the ground rumble. Was it another titan? The rain let up enough for Petra to see nothing but dozens of tree branches above her. She heard them snap...snap...snap. Petra covered her head with her arms and screamed out in fear.

She suddenly felt her feet lift from the ground, an arm tightly wrapped around her waist and another beneath her knees. Her eyes widened and lit up as they met Captain Levi's face. As he navigated through the barrage of debris at an alarming speed, she tucked in her head and legs, flinching as they passed every obstacle. She grasped the straps around Levi's chest for dear life. Petra and Levi took on enemies together time and time again, but she never realized just how fast he really moved until this moment in his arms. Having seemingly reached the end of the forest with still no horse in sight, Levi latched onto a high branch of a towering and massive tree. Its circumference was at least 15 meters, and its flat, wide branches made it the perfect place to retreat.

"We might be burnt to a crisp up in this wooden lightning rod, but at least we're too high up for the titans to reach us."

Petra shivered and clenched Levi's hand as he slowly let her out of his arms.

Out of breath she said "Captain... Thank you."

She fell to her knees before him, still grasping his hand.

"How did?" She quickly inhaled through her nose, catching the scent of wet foliage and mud, and let out a deep breath through her mouth. "How did you find me?"

"After I finished off that titan, I heard you scream in the distance... I didn't know if I would make it in time." He looked away.

His heart sank and his blood ran cold when he heard her scream. Time and time again, the connections he made with his comrades were severed by the titans' onslaught. No matter how many times it happened or how much time had passed, the pain was always the same.

"I just heard her scream... I didn't even see her. I shouldn't have panicked like I did..."

He always had faith that Petra would prove to be a valuable asset to his special operations squad. Her nature was comforting and reassuring, but she knew how to be assertive when the situation called for it. For someone with such a tiny frame, her combat skills were superb, and she always kept her equipment clean and well-maintained. Most importantly, she showed initiative.

To lose Petra would have been detrimental to his team's dynamics and his daily routines would be sent into disarray. The thought of never having her by his side again was something that really shook him.

Petra shivered with fear and breathed heavily, unable to respond for a few seconds before she let go of his hand.

"Captain, why? Why you didn't you move forward like you told us to!?"

Levi too caught his breath as she spoke.

Her eyes watered up as she said "You could have made it if you didn't come back for me." She closed her eyes with grief.

"Petra, there was nothing you could have done differently... I was well aware of the risks involved in going back for you, and that you might not even be alive when, or if, I did find you," Levi assured her.

Petra quivered as she opened her eyes, "But captain, I still don't understand! Why you would do that!?"

"... I couldn't abandon you, Petra... I'm not as heartless as you think."

She paused for a moment to reflect on his statement. "Not as heartless as I think!? What gave him that impression? We're conditioned to completely shut out emotions on the battlefield!"

"But we— do you see any way we can make it out of this alive? I just can’t believe I’ve caused all this trouble. I'm so sorry!" she cried.

He furrowed his brows with a pained look on his face, feeling the gaze of her teary eyes. Petra had to abandon all of her gear, and Levi had a minimal amount of gas left. On the off chance that there were any horses nearby, they would surely be spooked by the deafening thunder and crashing trees. As instructed, every soldier continued towards the wall to peruse a slim chance of return to civilization. Turning back to look for survivors would be suicide.

"Survival is never a guarantee, Petra." It was not what he would have preferred to say, but it was the truth.

Petra felt every drop of rain pelt her face. She sunk further down, as she began to cry softly with her back against the tree.

"Oi, that doesn’t mean we’re giving up."

The sound of snapping tree branches and thunder continued.

"I’m sorry..." she continued to weep. "Could I tell you something, captain?"

Petra ruminated, "If this is really it, I don't want to die without him knowing how I feel."

He looked down at her. "...what is it?"

"I-I just want thank you... Thank you for always believing in me, thank for allowing me to fight by your side." She smiled and took a moment to admire his sapphire eyes. "Thank you for all that you’ve done, captain... It's been an honor to serve you." She paused as she wiped tears from her eyes. "I'm glad to have had a captain who I could trust with all of my heart, one who I knew would always make the choices that would best benefit humanity. Even if it meant sacrificing my life, I would gladly do so to follow your commands... I hope you won't think it's selfish, but even after all you've done for me, there is one last thing I'd like to ask of you."

He bent down on his knee and looked her in the eyes with uncertainty.

The overwhelming affection in Petra's eyes and voice alone were enough to surprise Levi, but he was especially taken aback by her words. Compassion wasn’t his strong suit to say the least. Yet, when it came to the well-being of his comrades, somehow that scathing, potty-mouthed misanthrope held his tongue and humanity’s strongest warrior emerged. He uttered words of comfort to hundreds of soldiers at their wit's end.

"Petra..." His eyes softened. "I’m glad you were here to fight beside and for your dedication." His voice was tender as he said "I’m grateful for that..." and so much more that he could articulate. Afternoon tea together, her care for his wounds, the admiration for him that she expressed, all of it made him feel wanted and valued as a human being. She not only accepted his flaws, she appreciated them. She saw the deep concern he had for his fellow soldiers and knew a kind man resided beneath that harsh exterior. For this, Levi actually liked spending time with her and wanted to do so often.

"What is it that you want me to do?"

With a tear-stained face she responded "Thank you, captain!" She took in a deep breath. "Could you please... if you wouldn’t mind... please let me kiss you!"

She threw her arms around him and pressed her face into his chest.

"Can you forgive me for asking this? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to feel this way about you."

His arms hovered over her as he took a moment to fully process the request she made: affection, intimacy, romance... Why now?

"Petra, that’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it." He pushed her away and looked her in the eyes. "But is kissing me really going to make this situation any better?"

"Just once, I hoped I could, captain. I know it's a stupid thing to wish for. I apologize."

"So, you just want to have your first kiss before you die? That’s what you’re saying?"

Petra let out a soft giggle and replied "No captain, it wouldn't be my very first kiss... just ours."

"Ok, so you already know what it’s like to kiss somebody. You don’t need to do that with me."

"What a strange thing to want do at the brink of death," he thought to himself.

Petra thought back to the one and only boy she had kissed, the boy who left her with a bittersweet memory. She imagined his full, tender lips against hers, the stubble on his chiseled jaw against her hands, and her body feeling protected by his towering frame. She thought of the way his lips always slipped down to her neck and the way his hands wandered down to her thighs. Just the thought of that boy's lips caressing hers still made the back of her head tingle, but whenever she really thought hard about that boy she felt disgusted.

Petra sat up and looked at Levi. "Captain, that’s not how it works at all. You’re a much better person than anyone I've kissed before. My feelings for you... they’re much more intense."

"... I'm covered with blood and dirt, and you really want to kiss me? Here? After you've been rolling around in the mud with titans? While we’re 30 meters in the air?"

"Yes captain, I-I do..." She said meekly. She was completely embarrassed but persistent.

With a skeptical face he asked "Kissing me means that much to you?"

"Yes."

Kissing a subordinate was undoubtedly sexual misconduct. On the other hand, as a captain he was obligated to fulfill a dying soldier's final wish. The situation they were in could certainly qualify as imminent. But, suppose they did miraculously survive this ordeal. Levi usually didn't give a shit about his own needs, but he had to really consider how this act might make him feel. He had never kissed someone before. It wasn't necessarily an unappealing thought, or that he didn't sometimes want to experience it himself, there just never seemed to be the right opportunity, or the right person. If he did kiss her, how might that change their working relationship? He wasn't in love with the girl, but he did find her attractive. He did actually enjoy her company. She was more special to him than he really cared to admit.

After a few moments of silence, he came to his decision: "Fuck it. If this is the last thing I can do to make her happy, I'll do it."

"Alright Petra, if you can promise it won’t interfere with our duty, just this once... Permission granted." Her face turned bright red to the point that he could practically feel her embarrassment.

"O-okay, Captain Levi. Thank you."

She couldn't believe what he just said and suddenly felt hesitant to kiss him now. She gulped as she looked at his soft nude lips. The misty wind blew through their hair and the smell of fresh rain circled around them. She gently wiped away bits of gravel on his cheek. Petra batted her eyes before leaning forward, her lips nearly touching his. She could feel his breath on her upper lip. She closed her eyes and froze for a moment.

Petra put one hand on her captain’s shoulder and the other on his neck. The tactile sensation of his smooth skin against her blistered fingers made her heart beat faster. Levi's hands stayed by his side as he hesitantly closed his up-turned, half-lidded eyes. Their lips collided. In contrast to Petra's kiss, his wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t tender. It was obvious he’d never kissed someone before. But it was Captain Levi's kiss and it didn't matter to her how awkward it was. His lips half-heartedly pressed against hers with no tongue or movement as she tilted her head and puckered her lips. He could tell she was much better at this than him. Petra's loving gaze pierced Levi's eyes as she pulled her head back. He knew that wasn't a satisfactory job. Taking in to consideration how much this meant to Petra, he felt he owed something more to her...

"Hey..."

"Captain?"

He put a thumb beneath her chin. "Lets try that again."

"Yes, captain..." she said under a heavy breath.

Levi put his arms on her shoulders, gently pressing her back into the tree. He felt his heart beat like a drum from the sensation of Petra's wet, supple lips. His lips caressed hers and he followed up with several more passionate kisses. Petra was taken aback by his sudden improvement and felt as though the man she loved was truly hers. She gently pushed him away.

"Thank you, captain... You don't have to keep kissing me." She blushed as she bashfully looked away.

His hand made its way back to her chin as he slid his thumb over her wet lips. Their eyes met.

"Are you saying you want me to stop?"

"Captain, I..." Her eyes closed half-way. "No..."

She closed her eyes completely as a chill ran through her body and her chest felt tight. His kiss paralyzed her for a second as she anxiously exhaled.

Their tongues slipped inside one another’s mouths as their hearts throbbed. Levi felt like he was about to erupt from years of pent-up sexual repression. His hand tightly grasped her hair to hold her head in place. His thumb rested firmly against her jawline as the rest of his hand cupped her cheek.

Levi furrowed his brows. "Her skin is so soft, even after sweating like a pig. And her hair, how the fuck does it still smell like roses while having visible chunks of mud in it? She should be revolting after all the shit we've been through today."

He ran both of his hands through her hair. "But now that I’ve gotten a taste, it’s like I can’t get enough. Tch, what the hell is this?"

"Captain?"

Levi finished one more kiss before pulling back. "Hmm?"

"C-can I kiss your neck? Your skin is so soft there." She was incredibly anxious, yet every action felt so natural.

He looked at Petra a little bit puzzled before gingerly pressing his lips against her ear as he whispered, "Knock yourself out."

She kissed his cheek as her lips trailed down to his jaw. She carefully pushed his cravat to the side and unbuttoned his shirt until his collarbones were exposed. Levi felt a sweet, gentle peck above his left clavicle and closed his eyes. He jumped as he felt Petra delicately bite and suck on a circle of his skin.

"Oh, sorry. Was that too much?"

"No, it's fine. Keep going."

After a few more seconds, Petra lifted her head. Their lips ravenously rubbed against each other’s. It was like a box of butterflies was released into Petra’s stomach. His body against hers brought about a comforting, blissful sensation. She always felt so complete by his side, like she stood right where she was destined to be.

There was something Levi wanted to try too, but he thought it might be better to ask forgiveness than permission.

Petra felt his hands gently squeezing and fondling her breasts through her rain soaked shirt beneath her jacket. She let out a slight gasp followed by a nearly inaudible moan. Levi felt her nipples against the palms of his hands. Between the rushing wind and cold rain, they were hard as rocks. Petra flinched as he slowly and teasingly rubbed his thumbs over this sensitive area.

"I can't believe captain is touching me like this! Does this mean he's actually attracted to me?"

"What the hell are we doing? Suppose we make it out of this alive, what will she think of me then?"

Though wrestling to keep their consequential thoughts at bay, the two continued like horny teenagers, completely lost in a sexual haze.

Admittedly, Levi had always wondered how this sort of thing felt. Of everyone he knew, it made the most sense for this to happen with Petra. She was someone he deeply trusted and was close to. Her beauty always caught him by surprise and it was sometimes a challenge to accept the fact that he was attracted to her. Yes, his eyes had glanced over a fair share of nice looking individuals, but none of them had peaked his interest.

But the timing of it all— was this the only way it could happen? Even if it was her dying wish, Levi couldn't help but feel remorseful for his inappropriate actions. This afternoon together was a pleasure beyond his imagination, a very guilty pleasure.

At some point during the duration of their make out session, the rain had stopped. Waking up from his trance, Levi stood up abruptly to fire a signal flare. It was a long shot that anyone would be close enough to see the flare, much less to be able to reach them... Even with the situation at hand, he felt light and his tension and worries were somewhat eased. It was strange, and in a way he hated the sense of vulnerability it brought about. As the sun broke through the clouds, Petra looked up at Levi noticing he was aroused by their acts of intimacy. She quickly looked away and blushed, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

With his head still facing towards the walls he questioned her, "What? Should I not have found you stimulating?"

"Oh, n-no. Sorry, I wasn't trying to look."

He sat back down in front of her and takes her hands as they look at one another in a moment of twisted happiness. An awkward silence followed as Levi turned his head back to check for any signals.

From beyond the misty horizon, faint green smoke appeared. Moments later, the rest of Levi Squad galloped towards the couple for rescue.

Levi pulled his hands away and adjusted his cravat. His eyes returned to their usual cold, stern scowl.

"Tch, I told them to keep moving forward... Guess we'll make it back after all."

#rivetra #levi x petra #captain levi #petra ral #levi heichou #levi ackerman #snkfic #my fics #mercy

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booklovingturtle · 5 years

Text

Cardan’s POV of Chapter 15

LOL, y’all already know what I mean by “Chapter 15″ so let’s just dive straight into my version of Cardan’s point of view.

Cardan's head had been spiraling from the moment he felt the weight of Oak’s small hands placing the damned crown on him. He felt like a pendulum ready to break off its axis. Swing violently between wanting to prove to the Fae that he wasn’t some child playing dress-up and reminding them just how unfit he was to be one of their princes, let alone their king. All of this was ignoring Jude, the one problem that he never seemed to get enough of.

He knew swearing himself to her would end poorly. He was expecting her to use the oath to embarrass him, manipulate him, betray him, even. However, the last thing he expected was for Jude to deal him the worst punishment he could imagine. No longer was she the mortal girl trying desperately to prove herself. No, Jude Duarte had shown everyone that she was capable of far more than they could have ever imagined.

As his seneschal, she was privy to more about Elfhame than its residents will ever be despite their long lives. Thanks to her ability to lie, though, she was unexpectedly good at making sure that no one knew the secrets she carried. Including himself.

Now, Jude was staring him down, looking ridiculously calm for having just told Cardan that Nicasia was the failed assassin who ruined his night of vices.

“You mean she tried to kill me?” He didn’t know whether he was more shocked or infuriated “Honestly, Jude, how many secrets are you keeping?”

The question was of course rhetorical. He knew that when it came to Jude, there was no bottom to her trove of deceits. Despite him knowing that, the silence that rang between them before she continued felt like another form of betrayal.

“She was shooting at the girl, not you. She found you in bed with someone, got jealous, and shot twice,” Jude said as if that made any of what she was explaining easier for him to deal with. “Unfortunately for you, but fortunately for everyone else, she’s a terrible shot. Now do you believe me that she wants you?”

Her flippant attitude added kindle to his already burning temper. He was angry and Jude and Nicasia. Worst of all, at himself for feeling so upset at being misled yet again his seneschal. “I know not what to believe.”

“She thought to surprise you in your bed. Give her what she wants and get the information we need to avoid a war,” Jude spoke the last bit as if asking him to pass her a sheet of paper. Her face was hard, spine pulled back and head held tall. She looked ready to strap him to the couch behind her if that's what it took to get him to listen to her.

Of course, it would take much less than that to get him to bend to her will. “Are you commanding me?” He hadn’t realized that he was moving until he was millimeters away.

The ire in his words seemed to surprise her. “No. Of course not.”

I’m the king, he’d said to her earlier. This close to her, Cardan did not feel like a king. He felt very far from the High King of Elfhame. His fingers curled around her face, trying not to remember what it felt like to dig his hands into her hair.

“You just think I ought to,” he wasn’t sure where he was going but for once he let the pounding in his chest lead him. His mouth kept moving but he’d stopped listening to his own words.

He knew how Nicasia felt about him. Cardan was no fool. Much less was he unaware of how he could affect the men and women of his court. In reality, Jude’s plan was a sound one. Nicasia wanted him. Jude wanted information from Nicasia. It only made sense to move him around her chess board until all her pieces slid into place.

Perhaps that’s what made him so angry. Knowing that even now, even as the High King, he was still nothing more than a moving piece in someone else’s game. Perhaps it was time for Jude to feel like a pawn in his own.

“Tell me how it’s done. Do you think she’d like it if I came to her like this, if I looked deeply into her eyes?” Cardan watched the fire in her gaze blaze a little differently. Her walnut eyes darkened and a small breath escaped her as his tight grip turned soft.

“Probably,” the breathlessness of her voice was not the reaction he was expecting. “Whatever it is you usually do.” Jude was trying to seem unfazed by him and it provoked him to continue.

“Oh, come now. If you want me to play the bawd, at least give me the benefit of your advice.” The constant spinning in his mind slowed down as he focused on gently stroking the pink, hot skin of her cheek. Cardan followed the blush as it creaked down past her lips, down her throat. There he could see her pulse hammering under his fingers. “Should I touch her like this?”

“I don’t know,” Jude lies yet again.

Lies. That’s all that came out of her heart-shaped lips. Even knowing this, Cardan couldn’t quell the urge to taste those perfectly crafted lies. He knew that if he stopped this match now then they could both come out relatively unscathed. He would always remember how her hands fisted as if fighting their own urges, but it would be better than remembering what they felt like against him. He felt like he had dived off a cliff, expecting to find some sort of purchase before he reached the end. Instead found nothing but empty air beneath him as he pummeled faster and faster.

He moved forward so his mouth moved against the round shell of her ear. “And then like this? Is this how I ought to seduce her.” It felt more as if she was seducing him with nothing more than her humanness. “Do you think it would work?” Cardan asked to continue his charade, though he wasn’t sure if it was for her sake or his.

Jude was shaking beneath him and the irony of it was not lost to him. Months earlier, Cardan was the one trembling with too many emotions to name as Jude was the one relishing in his misery.

“Yes,” she suddenly said. The honesty in that one word was too much for him to bare.

His mouth was on hers, hands once again against her neck. He tasted the lies beneath every word she spoke, felt the truth her own body couldn’t hide as she dug her hands in his hair. It was almost unholy how quickly his body responded to hers. How his every thought was on the softness of her skin, her smell, and the way she came alive under his hands.

Then they were both falling onto the couch and he wasn’t sure who had moved first. Cardan landed on top of her and he followed her lead as she pulled him into her embrace. She was pushed up against him and the feeling of her beneath him was enough to bring him back to himself. Cardan pulled away, trying to reel in the intensity of his desire but when his eyes met hers, he wanted nothing more than to unleash it.

She looked dazed. It was so far from the undiluted hate in her eyes he usually saw that he had to force himself to remember exactly who she was. Who he was.

“Tell me again what you said at the revel,” his heart raced, begging to draw closer to her.

“What?”

“That you hate me,” he pleaded. He needed to hear her say it. Needed to know that when she said it, she was speaking the truth yet still hoping it was another one of her lies.

“I hate you,” Jude said but it didn’t hold any of the fervor it usually did. Instead, it sounded more like an unwanted confession.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He was kissing her again, this time hoping to kiss the confession away. She continued to whisper those three words against him until his own voice betrayed him.

Cardan hands were on her skin, feeling the curves of her body and undoing the buttons of her clothing. He was desperate to feel more of her, see more of her. Ripping away his own jacket, he looked down to see her stripping of her doublet.

As more of Jude is revealed, he realized that there was never any bottom to the cliff he leaped off of. This dive was going to kill him.

He’s saying something to her but all he can hear is how shallow their breathing is. Everything about her is too much for Cardan to handle. Her hands shake as they run along his body.

He wishes that he could say that Jude, small, human Jude, was everything he was told humans were. Ugly, dull, pathetic creatures with meaninglessly small lives. But as he stared at her creamy skin, mostly untouched by the sun, he knew that none of those words could ever apply to Jude. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked bare and laid out before him. He wanted to say that in all his life, he had never been more terrified than he was right now. He could say none of those things.

“I want to tell you so many lies,” he said in their place in hopes that she would see through his words to the truth of his statement. When she didn’t respond, he made his way down her body, towards the center of her own desire.

She yanked on his pants, releasing his tail. He was never good at controlling how his tail revealed his own emotions, but today, it mirrored his every thought as it wrapped around Jude. She responded by reaching out to run a hand down his chest.

Cardan could tell by the way that she hesitated before every breath that she had never gotten this far before. The thought of Jude with her terrifyingly clever mind still being so inexperienced in the one area he considered himself skilled at made Cardan feel more pressured than ever before.

His hands had been lightly toying with her skin, running up and down the length of her thighs but he finally gave in to his needs and moved to touch her.

Jude bit her lip as a soft moan escaped her. She arched her back as he continued his slow, methodical movements. Cardan was gentle with her as he watched her every breath. Jude moved under him, like liquid fire burning a path straight through him. Every sound she made was a quiet concession of how he worked her. She threw her head back, eyes shut tightly as one hand moved its way up to her breasts.

He kissed his way up from her chest to her ears, trying not to leave any marks even as she dug her nails into him. Though he’d never been with a human, he knew that they healed slower than his kind did so he tried to be mindful of it as he left open kisses along her body. He hoped that the scratches she made would last a lifetime, but he knew she would never forgive him if he’d left some sort of claim on her.

As her breathing picked up, he felt whatever this was coming close to an end. Fae were more carnal beings than humans. He didn’t care how inexperienced Jude was but to her kind, this was far more important than he could begin to understand. Suddenly, she cried out, her body going taut and then loose beneath his fingers. He watched, wanting to savor every moment of her bliss before he gave her one last kiss.

Kiss me until I am sick of it, he was reminded of his own drunken words. At the time he thought it was a foolish request because he thought Jude would never degrade herself by being with him. Now, Cardan understands that was wrong. No matter how many kisses she allowed him to steal or what scheme her treacherous mind demands him to play a part of, he will never be sick of Jude.

#holly black #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #tcp #the wicked king #twk #the wicked king spoilers #twk spoilers #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude #king cardan #prince cardan #jude x cardan #jurdan #booklovingturtle writes

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besidemethewholedamntime · 4 years

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Hello! Here’s my submission for @teamearthaos November Challenge which was to all collaborate to create the perfect work. Mine was based on the constellation horologium which was chosen by the amazing @2minutes2midnight and includes a beautiful aesthetic created by the lovely @bobbimorseisbisexual - I hope you all enjoy <3

in your multitudes

Summary:

"They’ve become different people, or at least on the surface. Her hair is longer and Fitz has a beard now. They’ve both come further in their career. All the same, there’s a chance, just a chance, that they aren’t so different deep down. That they’re still those two scientists who met, fell in love and the rest just doesn’t matter."

Some things are inevitable, after all. Two years later and the stars bring them together once again. My Team Earth November Challenge submission inspired by the constellation horologium.

{Read on Ao3}

She thinks she’s alone at first.

The others had been all crowded around the bar when she left, vying for service in a multitude of languages that she found it hard to keep track of after a while. They’ve all been cooped up in the lab for the past three days and now they’re like thirsty animals at the watering hole, desperate for some attention from someone who doesn’t wear a lab coat and have a pair of safety goggles on their nose.

They’re a loud and fun lot, and usually Jemma loves getting lost in the party with them, but not tonight. She’d had a quiet drink with two of the girls, but had slipped out when they started talking to some locals in a manner that Jemma’s never had the knack for. It’s a warm night, with a gentle breeze taking the edge off the humidity and without really thinking too much about where she was going, she’d ended up at the beach and had continued walking until she’d reached a spot where the city lights weren’t quite so bright, and she could look up and see the stars.

“I knew I’d find you down here.”

She jumps, not recognising the voice for a few seconds and by then it’s too late – he’ll have noticed. She’s out in the dark on a strange beach in a foreign country and yet it’s knowing the voice that scares her more.

The sun hasn’t been kind to him in the five days they’ve been here. He’s always been a pasty one, built for the grey and cloudy skies of the North, not the endless blue they find themselves faced with here. A blue that holds the same intensity as it does in his eyes. It was her first thought when she stepped off the plane, how much the sky reminded her of his eyes. That was before she even knew he was here.

“I thought you’d still be at the bar,” she remarks, but to keep her voice light is an effort. It’s the most they’ve spoken in years, far surpassing the head nod that they’ve managed in the past few days.

He shrugs. “Saw you leave. Figured we had to talk sometime.”

“And you thought now was a good time? God, Fitz, you’ve always had the worst timing.”

It was meant to be a rule, one that she made on the spot when she turned up to the lab on the first day and saw him sitting there, pipette in hand. She would not cry or scream, she wouldn’t make a sound. Her face would not betray the life they had lived together, the people they had once been. She would not act as if he were a stranger, someone new to meet; she would act as if he were simply not there.

The rule is gone now, torn to shreds the minute he followed her down here in the dark to have a conversation two years too late. Of course, it never could have really been a rule to begin with; there’s no way they would have made it three months here acting like the other didn’t exist. For better or worse, they have always been irresistible to each other.

“That’s hardly fair,” he says, eyes narrowing accusingly.

She bites her tongue. There’s no anger now, not really. There never was, just frustration and an indescribable sadness that sometimes chokes her, even now.

“You’re right,” she sighs. “It’s not.” She scuffs at the sand with her sandal. “I came out here to see the stars.”

He nods, coming to stand beside her. He’s so close that she can feel the heat radiating off his sunburn, but she’s sure to anyone else they look like strangers.

In a past life they used to watch the stars together. With him beside her now it’s all she can think about.

“They’re really clear out here,” he murmurs and his voice causes goosebumps on her skin.

“Yes. You can see many constellations here that you can’t see in Europe.”

He knows this of course, but she says it anyway. What else is there to say? I’m surprised you’re here? Except she’s not, not really. There was an eventuality that this would happen. How are you? But can she bear to find out the answer if it’s not the same as hers? I hate you? But she doesn’t, does she? I love you?

Perhaps that’s coming just a little too close to the truth.

“You taught me some of them.” He sidles closer, hands in the pocket of his shorts. She wonders if he had to buy a whole new wardrobe for coming here. Back then, in their old life, he didn’t own a single pair. My legs are too pale, he’d laugh, teeth and all. I’d burn in a minute.

They’ve become different people, or at least on the surface. Her hair is longer and Fitz has a beard now. They’ve both come further in their career. All the same, there’s a chance, just a chance, that they aren’t so different deep down. That they’re still those two scientists who met, fell in love and the rest just doesn’t matter.

In a way she always knew it was going to be Fitz who broke her heart. There’s been nobody whom she’s ever loved quite as much.

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” She wraps her arms around herself. “Do you remember any?”

He gazes up at the night sky. It’s a cloudless night and the stars shine brightly, like little white paint splatters on an endless canvas of blue. There are a number of constellations able to be seen. He’s always been horrible at remembering the name of the constellations, unusual considering he usually excels at other things he tries, and so she expects him to go for something easy like Carina or Crux. Instead, he points at a simple, fainter one.

“Horologium, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” It almost takes her breath away, though she must have known that he was going to pick that one, she must have. She shouldn’t have asked. “The clock.”

“Time,” he says, not looking at her but still up at the night sky. He has moved closer, rocking on his heels. “Can’t go back.”

“And do you want to?” She swallows, looking up at the pendulum-shaped collection of stars. “If you could, would you go back?”

It takes him only a second to answer. “Every day.”

It’s like the sand is suddenly of the quick variety and if she doesn’t move, she’ll be swallowed up by it. Surprise is first, but then anger. How dare he do this to her? How dare he?

She takes a step away, shaking her head at him. “This isn’t fair, Fitz. This just isn’t fair.”

“You asked me a question. What did you want me to do? Lie?”

Yes! She wants to scream. Yes! Or better yet, she wants him not to be here at all. She wants him to have accepted another trip, she wants him to have gotten the flight after hers so she got here first. She wants to erase the last five years and pretend she never met him in the first place.

“You can’t just, just follow me here like this and pretend that nothing is happened, that we’re fine. For goodness sake we haven’t even looked at each other and now you’re here talking about how we can just go back.” She’s glad this part of the beach is secluded in the dark – she doesn’t feel so terrible about getting hysterical. “You’re being ridiculous. We can’t go back.”

She has forgotten how Fitz’s anger comes in very suddenly – a tidal wave that swallows him whole. “Hey, I wanted to try with you. I did try. You’re the one who acted like I was dead to you. What was I meant to do?”

“You weren’t mean to be here!”

“And why not, Jemma? Why not? You’re the one who placed career above everything else. Why can’t I do the same?”

Here it comes, the thing that they’ve always been so awfully good at: placing well-placed blows that can bring the other to their knees. A skill it seems they haven’t lost over the years. When they were together, they were always careful, but there’s no reason to be so anymore.

“Oh, real mature. As I recall it wasn’t quite like that now, was it?”

She’s shaking now, the full force of her anger boiling her blood, making her veins itch. There’s so much feeling she doesn’t know what to do with it. Her hands curl into fists by her side.

He narrows his eyes. Even in the dark they are so intensely blue. “Here we go again, blaming it on me. I knew you were going to do this. I knew it.”

And she cannot help it anymore. “You were the one who left!”

“Only because you told me to go!”

“Please,” she hisses, suddenly feeling very tired and very sad. She didn’t want to do this. “You couldn’t wait to leave.”

She had screamed at him, she remembers this very well. She had screamed at him to leave, to just get out because their arguments and their animosity was getting too much. He had pushed everyone away after the death of his mother and so she had fled to her work, finding solace in it as she always has. He, in return, had done the same and it continued for so long until one day she had enough and she had told him, yelled at him to go, just go, and he had yelled back fine and the door had rattled on his way out.

She hadn’t thought he would actually leave and when he did and he didn’t come back she took it as further confirmation that they weren’t enough for each other, could never be enough for each other, and she locked it in the little box in her mind and never opened it again.

Until now, here, in Australia, a multi-disciplinary research opportunity has them standing before each other once again and having a conversation that they should have had years ago.

“Is that what you thought?” Fitz’s voice has dropped to a whisper, as if what she has said has taken the wind right out of him. This is why they shouldn’t fight – they’re too good at it. “That I wanted to go?”

“You acted like it,” Jemma says, lowering her voice, too. “You walked right out and didn’t come back.”

“I thought you wanted me to go.” He laughs in that un-funny self-deprecating way. “You were always at work and whenever we were at home we fought so much. I thought it was just better if I go.”

“I worked because you pushed me away. You hid your thoughts and you didn’t tell me anything. I’d find you sleeping on the couch, half-sitting – you hadn’t even come to bed! You told me you loved me and you didn’t act like it, Fitz.” She knows where she’s going and she’s already forming the words she promised herself she would never utter. “I thought you resented me and I couldn’t bear it so I worked to forget about it.”

It’s like she’s punched him. The wind knocked out of him, he stumbles forward towards her before thinking better of it. “Jemma…” he breathes, and she hates the way he says her name because it’s too full of the way things were before. “I never resented you. Never.” His voice carries a quiet conviction of its own. “Why would you think that?”

There are tears now, in her voice, on her cheeks. “You weren’t there, when your mum died. You weren’t at home.” She shakes her head, bottom lip trembling. “You were with me. I thought you hated me for that. I hated me for that.”

“No, no, Jemma, I could never hate you. Never.” He is crying now, too. “Nobody thought she was that sick and nobody expected her to… nobody thought it would happen that quick. It’s not – that wasn’t something for you to be worried about.”

It’s a weight from her shoulders, something she’s been so afraid of all these years. Fitz hating her, yes, but also the real and genuine fear that she had kept him from his dying mother and had they not spoken just now, she knows that this would have haunted her until her dying day.

“But you didn’t speak to me. You just shut yourself away.”

“I didn’t realise,” he admits. “I was hurt and I was, um… I was sad. I didn’t know what you were thinking. I just saw you go off to work every morning and I – I needed you. I didn’t do a very good job of showing it but I did, Jemma. I really did.”

“We fought,” she says, unwilling to step closer in case she gets hurt once more. Surely it can’t be this simple? That this miscommunication on a minor scale, really, has left them broken and hurting for years. They are both smart people, incredibly so, top of their game, but only now is she realising that they are also incredibly stupid. “We fought so much. All the time.”

“We were hurting.” Fitz shrugs. “It’s easier to be angry, isn’t it?”

It was easier to be angry. It was easier to pretend she hated him than admit she loved him so much she felt like the world stopped turning when he left.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I feel,” she admits, moving toward him just as he moves towards her.

“I’m sorry I shut you out.” He looks at the sand. “And I’m sorry I left.”

Her bottom lip quivers. “I’m sorry I told you to go.”

It takes around three seconds, accounting for the sand, for them to close their arms around each other so tightly it feels like they may fuse together, skin to skin and bone to bone. He smells like sun cream and aftershave but underneath it all is the smell that is uniquely him. With his arms around her, on this foreign beach so far from it, she feels like she is home.

“I’ve missed you.” His hand is in her hair. It’s disgustingly sweaty but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers, and how lovely it is to be able to admit that freely.

When they met in their final year of university, it had taken him six weeks to be able to stumble out a sentence in front of her, looking down at the ground as he did so. When he asked her out, it was at dinner and he was looking down at their joined hands on the table. When they were dating, he had told her he loved her when they lay together with her head on his chest and his arm around her shoulder. The most important things, the things he really feels, he has never been able to tell her while looking her in the eye.

They turn to face the sky, one arm still slung around the other, both pretending they aren’t crying. Emotions have never been their strong but they’re learning, they’re growing, and with any luck Jemma hopes they’ll get to do it together.

“I can’t believe you remembered Horologium,” Jemma laughs wetly, looking up to the stars once again. They went on a trip together when they were at university, a two-week conservation expedition to South Africa, and she first pointed it out to him, the clock constellation that she had only seen in the books her father had shown her. They hadn’t been together then, he had barely become her friend, but she had taken his hand and traced it out in the nighty sky for him to see the magic, too.

“Of course, I did.” She hears him swallow and turns to him but he’s looking up at the night sky. “It’s ours.”

The clock constellation, a relatively simple one, overlooked in favour of the ones with brighter stars and myths attached, more complex in their origin, in their stories. This one, though, has always intrigued her, for it represents something physical, something she knows and understands. And after that trip to South Africa, it became her favourite because she saw it for the first time and she saw it with Fitz.

“It’s quite remarkable, isn’t it?” She uses her free hand to swipe the tears from her face. The night sky and all it holds has always been remarkable to her, but that’s not what she refers to now. No, it’s the fact that she’s here, with Fitz, almost all the way back to the beginning again.

“Yeah,” he manages, his voice sounding choked. “Brought us all the way back.”

“Do you think we could start again?” She asks. “I know we can’t pretend it never happened but do you think we could move forward? Slowly and surely. Do you think we could manage that?”

He looks at her then, a thousand different emotions flittering across his face and it’s with a start she realises she knows them still, after all this time. There are things her brain will never let her forget about him, not even if she wanted to.

“Yeah.” His arm around her squeezes her closer, as though he doesn’t want to let her go, and she understands because she’s doing the exact same thing. “I’d like that.”

They are excellent at fighting, absolute champions, but when it comes to reconciliation, when they want to be, they are even better. Fighters or lovers, it’s all the same, really. The same emotion in different directions.

“I think we’ll be better this time,” he whispers, looking back up at the sky, the constellation that’s brought them together again. Once she told him the story of her father, how he was a busy man but he always found the time to take her outside and show her the night sky in its infinite complexity. Tell your dreams to the stars he’d told her, as she sat, first on his knee and then on the deck chair beside him. They remember your dreams, you see? And when you’re not looking, when you need it but least expect it, they make them come true.

She’s a scientist first and foremost, never one to believe in whimsical fairy tales that cannot be proven but yet, in this moment, she thinks her father may have had a point.

“Yes. I think we will.”

She leans further into his chest, enjoying the feeling of his arm around her as if they’ve never parted at all. Looking up at the night sky, to the millions of stars holding millions of dreams, she mouths her thanks.

The stars, unconcerned, shine infinitely on.

#aosficnet2 #earth vs space #team earth aos #team earth november challenge #fitzsimmons #aos #fitzsimmons fic #fanfic by moi #i'm so happy with this!#finally my writing has come back to me!#i hope you all enjoy #and enjoy all of the other marvellous creations by team earth!

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toloveawarlord · 5 years

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Ashes to Ashes (Ch. 1)

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Look at me! I did something on time! Tagging @plumpblueberry for all her support and @christmaswarlock for always loving my oc kids as much as I do.

Yes, the title is meant to be a play on words... and yes, I think I’m hilarious for doing so. I justify it by having it actually hold significance in the story as well.

Without further ado, here is Kyle’s two rascally babies!

The guards at the front gate proved to be the biggest obstacle, asking a multitude of questions but never waiting to hear their answers. Beckett couldn’t let his big plan go to waste without even getting into the building. Sure, no one would miss them at the home right now, but each ticking minute felt like the swing of pendulum coming down cut the rope of the guillotine looming over the siblings.

“You have yet to state your business,” One guard said again, icy glare watching the two closely.

Beckett motioned to his sister that had hid behind his back, playing her role perfectly. “My little sister is sick, and we want to see the doctor. He’s the best in Cradle and she needs his help.” He drove his elbow back into her stomach, prompting the younger girl to cough.

Only half of the story true. They had other intentions for seeing the Seven of Hearts personally. The boy’s plan hinged on getting him alone and gaining sympathy before laying out the truth of their identity.

Sadie continued to cough, hiding behind her older brother while swiping some blood across her palm. With practiced movements, she gasped softly. “Blood…” Her whine of fear and the begging golden eye elicited the response they sought.

Permission to enter the grounds was given. One of the guards led them into the large building. The two took it in with amazement, having never seen something so clean. The soft carpet beneath their dirty shoes held no trace of dirt or any stains. No bugs skittered across the floors.

“Wait here, and I’ll send Dr. Kyle immediately.” The guard pulled the door closed, leaving the two alone in the room.

The small girl released her grip on Beckett’s shirt, stretching her arms over her head. A wide grin spread over her lips. “Well, we made it this far! Thanks to my acting of course,” she announced. She could play the innocent little girl as well as a professional actor.

Her brother scratched his cheek. “We’re far from the end goal. You shouldn’t celebrate so early.” A number of things could go horribly awry. What if this Kyle Ash said no? “Hey, Sadie?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think he’s going to want us?” Beckett asked, swallowing down the lump in his throat. If he had to take her back to that ratty apartment in Central Quarter, he feared her next accident would end in her death.

Facing him properly, Sadie waved her hand dismissively. “Of course, he is! We’re his kids, after all. He has to take some responsibility.” Her fingers traced over the eye-patch covering her right eye, the most recent result of their mother’s rage falling on them.

The door opened, and the man in question came into the room, hand stuffed in his doctor’s coat. He paused only for a moment at the sight of them. Both having similar reddish-brown hair like his. The boy having striking blue eyes as opposed to hers that were golden. “Are you the little girl that is sick?” He ignored the pricking feeling that something was amiss.

Sadie bobbed her head in response. She should sink back into the role of being a sick, helpless little girl but instead, she stood mesmerized by how similar they looked. Tilting her head to the side as he knelt down, pressing his cool hand to her forehead, Sadie forced a cough, the only sound that would come out.

“You do have a fever,” Kyle murmured, taking her small wrist to press two fingers to check her pulse.

“I do?” Her confession unbidden, but he’d surprised her with that. The whole story about being sick had been fake. She felt perfectly fine. “But… it was a lie.” Is she actually sick?

Kyle’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “A lie?”

Beckett moved closer, heart beating faster in his chest. This was their chance, the only one that could get them out of their hellish home, away from their mother. “We had to see you. It’s a matter of life and death!” He scrambled to explain themselves.

“Slow down, kid. You aren’t making any sense. Tell me what’s going on while I check out little miss for the source of her fever,” Kyle said, lifting the girl up into his arms. Kneeling on the floor had begun to make his knee hurt. He placed her carefully on the edge of the nearest cot, plopping down onto his stool.

Sadie shivered as the cool metal pressed against her chest, the stethoscope listening to her heartbeat. “I feel fine.”

“Nothing hurts?” Kyle asked, moving on from his checklist. Her lungs were strong, no crackling or wheezing. Pulse had been normal, blood pressure the same. It could be a simple cold.

Beckett stared at his sister, a flash of a memory from the morning returning to him. “Sadie, does your eye still hurt?” He’d been the one to patch her up, and she still complained of pain before they had left their house to come here.

Her good eye moved back and forth, testing the one under the patch. “Yeah, a little. But that’s not new.”

“Mind if I take a look at it?” Kyle asked, already sliding his fingers under the strap on either side to lift it away. He held her chin with one hand and leaned in. “What happened here?” The stitches were poorly done, and the wound marring from the top of her nose down the crook of her eye had puffed up, red and leaking pus. Infected, for a day at least.

“I fell,” she answered with her normal response coming to her lips without any thought. Any accident would always be told as her fault. She tripped down the stairs. Beckett and she were chasing each other, and she ran into the door. That’s how that bruise got there. That’s how her wrist was fractured. Lies. Engrained into her mind.

The doctor hardly believed it, but he wouldn’t press the matter at the moment. “Where did you get these stitches?” He needed to remove them completely, wash the wound and stitch it back correctly. First, it would be best to numb the area. With her being so young, he didn’t want her to have any unnecessary pain.

“I did…” Beckett spoke up, poking his index fingers together.

“You?”

With a nod of his head, his blue eyes dropping down to study the floor beneath his feet. “I read it in a book… the instructions were simple. Sadie wouldn’t sit still, so they’re jagged, but the wound stopped bleeding.”

Kyle patted his head, giving him a word of praise. “You did good, kid. The infection came from not being properly cleaned afterwards.” Gathering items off the shelf without much of a glance, he returned to the girl. Prepping the syringe with the numbing medication, her whine gave away her displeasure. “Not fond of needles?”

Sadie shrank back, rigid with fear. “No.”

His internal debate on how to handle the situation was interrupted as the door opened once again, the Ace of Hearts entering the room with files in hand. “New recruits’ medical information that you requested.” He paused, taking in the scene.

“Put them on the desk.” Kyle glanced between his fellow officer and the trembling girl. “Zero, come help me for a minute.”

Zero complied, following the instructions given to him perfectly. One arm wrapped around the girl’s torso, keeping her arms and body pinned to his own, and gently keeping the other resting on her cheek, pressing her against his chest. “This okay?”

“Yeah, don’t let her move too much,” Kyle said, giving Sadie a soft smile “Alright, little miss. I need you to close your eyes and take a deep breath for me, okay?” If she didn’t watch it coming, it would take away some of her nervousness, though it did little to stop her trembling body.

Sadie twisted her hands around the material of Zero’s jacket, squirming under his tight hold. Her eyes were closed but it did little to bring her comfort.

“Another deep breath,” Kyle said, waiting for her to exhale before giving her the shot to numb her eye. One little prick above and one below to make sure all of it would be numb for the rest of the procedure. It took a matter of seconds to complete. “There, all done with the needle, okay?”

Her lashes fluttered, the numbness making the right one impossible to feel.

Zero excused himself, having other duties to attend to. Kyle prepped to wash out the wound with warm water, using a magic crystal to heat it to the perfect temperature. “Does your brother have a name?” He hadn’t been properly introduced but Sadie’s name had been given several times.

“Beckett, he’s turning six in a few months,” Sadie said, the odd sensation of not quite feeling the water on her eye but seeing it blur her vision being strange.

Kyle kept her head tilted back with two fingers under her chin and wiped away the water that had spilled down her cheek. “Oh, and how old are you? Three?”

Her lips pursed out in a pout. “I turn four next week!”

“A big birthday, huh? How are you going to celebrate?” The silence immediately alerted him that he’d hit a sensitive topic. Placing the final stitches, he put a clean eye-patch back over it. “There, all finished.” He ruffled her hair. “You’re a tough little girl, aren’t you?”

Sadie couldn’t take anymore sweet words from him. Catching his hand as he stood up, she hesitated for only a moment. “We came because, well…” Words stumbled out of her mouth, nearly incoherent in her thought process, until she reached the ones that mattered. “See… you’re our dad.”

Kyle turned his attention fully back at the two kids staring up at him with hopeful eyes.

“Huh?”

More ikerev kids! ^_^ I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of the two precious beans.

#I wrote so much today #and half of it was actually things that needed to be completed today #i was productive #kyle's kids are crafty little things #they just want him to take them in #ikemen revolution #ikerev #kyle ash #ikerev zero #beckett ash #sadie ash #ash siblings #ashes to ashes #chapter 1

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pocket-monsters-precure · 5 years

Text

Chapter 19: Unstable Genetics!? The Most Dangerous Nega-Evolution!

(The Nega-Mewtwo drawing I commissioned from a friend, Melianthe!)

Wish and Starlight caught a violent swing of Nega-Mewtwo’s massive tail, skidding back as they did so. The mutated creature snarled viciously, nega-energy misting from its clenched jaw.

“For a bony skeletal weirdo, it’s got some strength behind it!” Starlight grunted in annoyance, only to yelp as the tail flipped upward, throwing them into the ceiling. Nega-Mewtwo hurled a storm of shadow balls after them, rumbling the mountain’s very foundations with its sheer ferocity. It began to emit a long, low growl, as the two Cures fell to the floor and hit it with hard thuds.

“We’ve been at this for a while now….” Starlight grunted as she sat up, “And we’re already tired from the first fight!”

“I hope Rotomi’s okay…” Wish rose to one knee…she was shaking. Nega-Mewtwo was leering back at her. “Why…why does he seem to single me out…? Even before this…”

“Maybe it’s because your powers are from Mew? It’s a clone of Mew, and hates humans, so…maybe seeing a human with Mew’s powers is something really, I dunno…infuriating to it?” Starlight frowned; it occurred to her that Nega-Mewtwo hadn’t made a move in that span of time. Starlight lunged forward suddenly, catching Nega-Mewtwo’s incoming fist to shield the unprepared Wish.

“Back off!” she shrieked, while Absol lunged and unleashed Faint Attack. Though the swift, darkness-coated strikes showed to be affecting the psychic-type, Nega-Mewtwo didn’t back down, instead attempting to swat away Absol; its now larger size, however, slowed its movements. Starlight jumped back and landed beside Wish.

“Come on, let’s combine powers, like you did with Sunrise!” Starlight held out her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Wish nodded and took her hand, as they reached their free hands forward. They each drew an arc of light in the air, then grasped each arc.

“Scattered Wish Shoot!” They shouted, releasing their hands and making the motion of drawing a bow and firing arrows of light, swirling with pink energy. The arrows detonated against Nega-Mewtwo, causing it to stagger back, before it telekinetically broke off several stalactites and hurled them at the pair. The pair separated to protect themselves, as the mountain continued to shake with each powerful impact; when the dust settled, both girls were down to their knees, even closer to exhaustion.

“Mewtwo’s legends always hailed it as one of the most powerful pokemon…” Wish panted, “How much longer are we gonna be able to hold on…?”

Nega-Mewtwo began to slowly stomp toward them, unbridled malice in its eyes…

PA-POW!

Two powerful diving kicks struck Nega-Mewtwo, knocking it across the cavern as Sunrise and Willow landed nearby.

“We made it in time…what a relief!” Willow sighed. Sunrise turned a bit to look at Wish and Starlight.

“You guys take a rest,” Sunrise suggested, “We can continue this.”

“I need a rest, too…” Rotomi dizzily floated up, before dropping into Wish’s outstretched hands.

“Great work, Rotomi,” Starlight praised her softly. Sunrise turned back to Nega-Mewtwo, who was recovering from being stunned.

“Don’t mind us…we’re just tagging in!”

Nega-Mewtwo leered at the interlopers, digging its claws into the ground beneath it with minimal effort before swinging one in a wide arc at the pair; Sunrise caught it, hands sparking with electricity.

“Wake-up Shock!” She shouted, forcing it to reel back as the jolt ran through it. A swirl of leaves twirled through the air, before sharpening and flying, cutting into the beast. A bell chimed in the air, as Willow’s Chronicle Bell slowed down time and she moved in to kick it in the chin, snapping its head upward.

“I still feel bad fighting it,” Willow admitted as she stood back-to-back with Sunrise, “It’s a Nega-Evolution, but still, at its core it’s still a pokemon…sealed inside like that, probably terrified…I wonder if it can see out?”

“I try not to think about it,” Sunrise replied, “We’re fighting to free it, and that’s what we’re gonna do.”

Back with Starlight and Wish, Starlight was growing restless.

“Break time’s over! Let’s go, Wish!” Starlight cried, rising to her feet and sprinting toward the others, Absol loyally following. Clefable pat Wish gently, as she got back to her feet. She watched the fight, Starlight joining in and firing off a shooting star at Nega-Mewtwo’s face, only for it to swat it away angrily.

“You want a fight with the Precure,” Starlight declared, “You get to fight the whole team! Come on, Wish!”

Wish hesitated for only a moment, then nodded once, running toward the group, charging energy in both her hands. “Wish..Whimsy….!” she threw her hands forward, sending the two now-large orbs at Nega-Mewtwo. “Pop!” She clapped her hands together, the resulting explosion continuing to chip away at Nega-Mewtwo’s defenses and stamina. Both paws lunged forward to grab her, but Sunlight and Willow caught them.

“I know you’re in there, you grump!” Starlight shouted, “You’re really gonna let Team Dysphoria make a puppet out of you!?”

Nega-Mewtwo opened its maw, roaring directly in her face as she reached out, slamming a foot down on its lower jaw and grabbing the roof of its mouth with both hands.

“You’re a powerful pokemon, alright…but that just made you a prime target for those creeps! You wanna make yourself useful!? Snap out of it and help the Precure! The longer you stay like this, the more nega-energy that you’re feeding to them!”

She pushed back, jumping away and joining the others; Sunrise and Willow released Nega-Mewtwo’s claws, as it suddenly pulled back, clutching at its head and angrily snarling.

I…WiLl NoT bE EnSlAvEd…AgAiN!!!

Its thoughts banged against the walls of their minds, distorted; fighting for supremacy.

“Could it be you reached it!?” Rotomi floated over.

“I figured it was worth a shot,” Starlight reasoned, “after Willow pointed out it might be able to see out, and I remembered how I reached Absol when she nega-evolved…and Guzma did the same thing with his Golisopod.”

“While it’s struggling, we gotta act!” Sunrise turned to the others. “Let’s refresh it!”

The group joined hands, as a new power seemed to flow through them. A righteous energy, as they put their hands together in the center, and a diamond of light formed beneath their feet…their finisher felt more energized than ever before.

“Precure Quartet Refresh!”

The diamond formed beneath Nega-Mewtwo and shot up, enveloping it and bathing the cavern in blinding light, scattering wild pokemon that had begun to creep out to watch the fight.

When the light cleared, Mewtwo lay on the ground, its breathing heavy and raspy, eyes closed.

“…we did it…!” Wish gasped, as the group jumped for joy and hugged. Rotomi zipped over to absorb the lingering nega-energy, then paused.

“Hey, guys? It’s breathing kind of weird,” she called, “I don’t remember anyone who got nega-evolved being in this kinda shape when we saved them…”

“…breathing weird?” Willow echoed as she walked over, kneeling by Mewtwo and putting her head to its chest. She frowned.

“The heartbeat sounds okay, but you’re right; that’s some really bad breathing trouble. It’s not even conscious…”

“Is it…damage from when we fought it before it was nega-evolved?” Wish asked shakily, now wracked with worry.

“I don’t know…but we can’t just leave it like this.”

“Why don’t we take it to Dr. Pierce?” Sunrise asked, “She’s an expert on pokemon medicine, after all…maybe she can help?”

“We’d have to warp it all the way to Unity Island from here…I’m sure Rotomi’s not able to handle that stress,” Starlight pointed out. “And if we try to take it out in the open, someone’s probably gonna see us with this fabled pokemon and ask questions…” “..why not just two of us?” Wish asked. “Rotomi could warp just Mewtwo and one of us directly to Dr. Pierce’s home, so we can explain what happened. The rest of us can take the ferry back.”

“We can try that…” Rotomi agreed. “I think I can manage one more warp if it’s just one of you and Mewtwo.”

“Wish, Starlight, one of you should go, since you were here from the beginning,” Willow reasoned. The pair looked between each other, and Starlight put a hand on Wish’s shoulder.

“I’ll go,” Starlight said, “I know that thing freaks you out, and it seemed to really not like that you got your powers from Mew. Who knows what’ll happen if it wakes up before the rest of us get there?”

Wish remained silent for a moment. Then, “No, it’s okay. I’ll go. I’ll have Dr. Pierce and Clefable with me, along with my other pokemon…I’ll be okay.”

The other three looked to each other, sharing concerned glances. Then, Rotomi floated to Wish.

“Alright…let’s do it.”

She had been typing away at the computer for hours…researching, documenting, rearranging. Penumbra was asleep in Dr. Pierce’s lap, the umbreon’s ear twitching on occasion, as Hypno approached and placed a cup of tea on the desk.

At the clicking of the ceramic on the wooden desk, Dr. Pierce finally looked over. “Oh…Hypno. Thank you. I left it in the microwave again, didn’t I?” She picked up the cup, noting it was still warm as she took a sip, and took off her glasses with her free hand, rubbing her eye with her knuckle. “I’ve been so swept up in all this Precure stuff my own work is starting to suffer. I need a balance…”

A blip of pink light caught the corner of her eye. “…Rotomi’s warping here?” She looked over.

CR-R-R-ASH!

A blur of white and purple smashed into her coffee table, splitting it in two…Mewtwo lay there unconscious, as Fae and Rotomi landed beside it.

“Dr. Pierce! Y-y-you have a patient!” Fae sputtered out. Dr. Pierce stared back, jaw dropped, while Penumbra had woken up in a panic and Hypno was waving its pendulum threateningly. Silence fell over the room, until the cup of tea slipped from Dr. Pierce’s hands and smashed on the floor.

……

One hurried explanation later…

“This is a lot to take in…” Dr. Pierce sighed, as Mewtwo lay on a small cot in the back room of Dr. Pierce’s home—a miniature medical lab, of sorts. The genetic creature’s breathing was still wheezy, and occasionally it shivered. “Help me strap it in.”

“S-strap it in..!?” Fae gasped.

“It’s just a precaution…we don’t know what it’s going to do when it wakes up,” Dr. Pierce replied, securing Mewtwo’s wrists. “So Mewtwo was nega-evolved while it was trying to challenge you!?”

“Yes…” Fae looked down briefly, before anxiously moving to strap down Mewtwo’s ankles. “I don’t know what it was trying to prove…but it seemed especially hostile toward me. Naomi thinks it’s because I got my Cure Compact from Mew….I mean, it even pointed it out when it spoke to us. It said…it seemed weird that someone like me would be chosen….”

“Could be a case of the clone feeling inadequate compared to the original…” Dr. Pierce put a stethoscope to its chest, “And since this guy was created to fight, it challenging you could be explained as it acting on instinct…”

“Makes sense to me,” Rotomi huffed as she was flopped on a nearby desk, exhausted.

“I…” Fae wrung her hands. “I…I don’t think it should just be explained away like that. Mewtwo seems really smart. It must have something it wants to prove, to challenge Precure like that…”

“You may have a point,” Dr. Pierce nodded to her, smiling gently. “You know, Fae, you’re pretty nice…trying to understand Mewtwo’s side of the story.”

“Ah-!” Fae stiffened up, blushing a little. “Well…all the things it was saying had logic to it…I guess I just don’t fully understand why it felt justified fighting us…is his condition because of the fight? Or the nega-evolution? We’ve never had anyone in this bad of shape after a nega-evolution…”

“Hmm…” Dr. Pierce watched Mewtwo shudder again. “It could be a mix. For one, it seems like it overworked itself and is both battered and tired. For another, Mewtwo’s body isn’t naturally occurring from centuries of existence, unlike other pokemon. Everything about it is something new and inorganic. It’s never faced something like nega-evolution before, and it’s unlike any other pokemon in existence, so it could almost be considered a type of anaphylaxis—“

“Ana-what?”

“—an allergic reaction. It’s a highly complex being right down to its DNA, so its body wasn’t quite sure what to do with the nega-evolution going on. Granted, this is all just a theory…it could very easily just be sick; after all, we don’t know what kid of natural immunities it might have or anything…but I’m digressing. I’d have to run some tests. There’s not enough information on its physical condition just yet for me to give a concrete answer.” She put a hand on Fae’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of it. You go get some rest and update the other girls. You can all come check on it tomorrow after classes.”

“Okay…”

“I’m sure I don’t have to say this, but don’t go around town saying that Mewtwo’s here.”

“Y-yes, ma’am…!”

“I still can’t believe we technically battled a legendary pokemon…” Naomi laid back in bed once Kailani and Fae had returned to the dorm; Asuka had taken a separate ferry back to Johto, as per usual.

“It’s not a legendary!” Rotomi insisted from within the charging Cure Dex, “A legendary creature would be one that’s ingrained in folklore and legends!”

“Oh, don’t argue semantics!” Naomi snapped back.

“Are you alright, Fae?” Kailani asked gently.

“Mm-hmm..” Fae nodded, hugging her pillow. “I just…feel so bad for it. It seemed to distrustful of humans, and so…full of anger.”

“I don’t blame it,” Naomi replied, “Humans are the worst.”

“I can understand where it’s coming from,” Kailani replied, “Created by humans who just wanted to make a fighting machine…what kind of life is that? Not one I’d wanna live.” She looked out the window. “Back in Alola, it’s ingrained in our culture to work alongside pokemon to achieve our goals. They’re not slaves or servants; they’re partners. The idea that someone would only see their pokemon as a tool to fight others, and create a living weapon to achieve that…it’s kinda alien to me.”

“I mean, we fight pokemon in battles, but that’s just how it is…they’re our comrades,” Naomi mused, “Not tools. And definitely not slaves.”

“…Naomi, if you had a pokemon that was clearly unhappy being captive,” Fae asked, “Would you let it go?”

“Absolutely!” Naomi nodded firmly once. “Y’know that classic phrase, right? If you love it, let it go. I want my pokemon to be happy. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

“Right!” Kailani agreed wholeheartedly. “Alright…we’ll all check on Mewtwo tomorrow. Maybe…he’ll even help us?”

“Don’t get your hopes up too high, though,” Naomi muttered. The girls began to relax in their beds, while Kailani quietly stared up at the plastic stars she had placed on the ceiling above her.

It was nothing like the beautiful night sky in Alola.

“Hypno.” Hypno opened the door to let the girls in, closing it after them.

“Doctor?” Fae called.

“In the lab!” Dr. Pierce called.

“Oh, my….” Asuka looked down to see Hypno had returned to its previous task—it had a broom and dustpan and was sweeping up broken glass. There were cracks in some of the widows, and a few glasses had completely shattered.

“What…happened here?” Fae wondered aloud, anxious.

“Let’s go!” Naomi led the group in a hurried rush to the lab. There, countless papers and binders were floating in midair, surrounding Mewtwo as its eyes darted from document to document. Dr. Pierce stood nearby, writing in a notebook while Penumbra watched it apprehensively.

“Uh…what’s it doing?” Kailani asked, confused.

“He. He asked for a male designation,” Dr. Pierce replied, “He’s going through gathered research and updating himself on the situation with the nega-evolutions…I’ve collected whatever I could access online and gathered up my personal notes for him. Isn’t it fascinating?”

An annoyed grunt came from Mewtwo’s throat.

“I mean, sure…” Naomi replied, “But what’s with the broken glass?”

“Oh, that…well, when he woke up and realized he was restrained, he panicked a bit and had a small surge of psychic energy. But it seems he realized I wasn’t a threat and calmed down. Just a little outburst, that’s all.”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s all?’” Naomi quirked an eyebrow. Fae watched quietly, then squeaked and flinched as Mewtwo glanced toward her. The papers floated back into a neat pile, as he turned to look at her.

I will find out what my predecessor saw in you, he projected, but you may be at ease. I call a truce. If the Precure are what is necessary to stop this epidemic of nega-evolution, so be it. As for the doctor, she is…not as overzealous about my presence as I was expecting, so I suppose I am willing to work with her.

“I’ll take compliments where I can get them,” Dr. Pierce shrugged.

“This is actually pretty great,” Kailani reasoned, “We have a strong ally, and we can show Mewtwo that not all humans are bad, right?”

“Hey, you’re right,” Asuka nodded. “But…what got him in such bad shape before, Doctor?”

“I still don’t have a solid answer,” Dr. Pierce admitted, “But I gave him fluids and let him sleep and he seemed to recover based on that, so perhaps he was just exhausted.”

“So this powerful pokemon got all tuckered out?” Rotomi huffed, only to get trapped in a psychic bubble and bounced around the room again. “AIEEE!”

“…Oh, Rotomi,” Kailani sighed, catching her as the bubble popped. “Maybe it’s you who needs some manners…”

#pocket monsters precure #pocket monsters pretty cure #pokemon precure #pokemon pretty cure #nintendo #game freak #pokemon #pocket monsters #story #chapter 19 #pretty cure #precure #fanseries #fancure #fanfiction #fanfic

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