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mrmonster459 · 1 year

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Samson’s Pit

Location: Orlando, Florida

“And now, put your hands together for…SWAMPY!” the show’s host shouted through his microphone.

I then walked onto the stage, in an alligator costume, ready to dance around and take photos with the kids. Which, on a 95 degree summer day, was really not a lot of fun.

I was working a summer job at Gatorworld, a shitty theme park just a few miles outside of DisneyWorld, meant to leech off DisneyWorld’s tourists. After an hour where kids were shown snakes, snapping turtles, and even a cougar, I was sent out in a big hot Gator costume, so all the kids could get their moment with Swampy.

______

It was the last show of the day. I thought I could just pack up and leave, and was really hoping to. There was a tropical storm heading to Orlando that night, and I wanted to be indoors when it happened.

After I got out of the gator costume, my supervisor came up to me and said “Hey Samantha, Brennan just called me, he’s stuck in the mother of all traffic jams trying to get back into the city, he doesn’t know when he’ll be here. Do you think you can feed the gators?”

Brennan was our local animal handler, and a pretty damn good one. He was jacked as a professional wrestler, and had a command voice that would make even our meanest animals shut up and sit still.

“Sure thing, Mr. Gutierez.” I said as I went to get the gator food. As much as I wanted to get home, I figured feeding the gators wouldn’t take too long.

_______

It was simple; I was supposed to take raw beef/pork patties, and throw them around the area we called “The Pit.”

The Pit was the focal point of our park; it was a fourteen hundred square foot outdoor exhibit home to twenty-three alligators, including our main attraction, Samson.

Samson was twelve feet long, and weighed over eleven hundred pounds. He was the nastiest, most aggressive gator in the whole park. And he was the one tourists would come from all over the United States to come see.

“Ugh.” I said to myself as I opened one of the plastic barrels full of the mostly expired meat discs. It smelled like a dumpster on a hot day, and so strong I had a gag reflex. It was supposed to take just a few minutes, but then, my watch flew off my wrist when I was throwing a meat patty, and flew all the way into the pit.

“Damn it.” I said. My boyfriend got me that watch, I couldn’t leave it. I unlocked a ladder, hoping I could just lower myself into the pit, grab it, and get back out before anyone saw me.

But then, as I was about halfway down, I heard the sudden creak of the ladder breaking off its bolts. I don’t know what made the ladder so loose; I don’t know if it was storm damage, or if the damn screws had just rusted off, but for whatever reason, the ladder had broken, and I fell ten feet into the pit.

I landed in a two foot puddle of water. I quickly picked myself up and stumbled towards the nearest patch of land in the Pit. I grabbed my walkie talkie, but it didn't work. Must have been damaged in the fall.

"Shit." I said to myself. "HELP! HELP, I'M STUCK DOWN HERE!" I tried shouting, but no one was around to hear. All the guests had already gone home, and the remaining staff were doing their jobs in other areas of the park.

I couldn’t get back up the ladder, that would be impossible. My only hope of getting out of there would be to get to one of the Pit’s extraction doors.

There were four doors at the bottom level of the Pit, doors that would allow us to safely get in and extract gators that needed medical attention. And now, it was my only hope of getting out of that pit. Only problem was that none of them were near the island I landed on, so I had to wade through the murky water.

____

When I reached a nearby patch of land, I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I was safe when I turned around and saw gators were continuing to help themselves to the crap I had already thrown into the pit. But then, my heart sank when I saw something crawl out of the water.

“Shit.” I said as Samson started crawling towards me.

The rest of the gators may have been happy to munch on the expired meat we got for pennies on the dollar from Wal-Mart, but Samson clearly wanted something more fresh.

“Hey buddy.” I said as I stepped back away from him. The only weapon I had on me was the box cutter I used to open the meat barrel, I couldn’t possibly fight him off if he attacked.

Which is exactly what he did. Moments later, he lunged at me. I turned and started running for a tree. If I couldn’t fight him, I could at least try to escape him.

I got to the tree and hoisted myself up with just seconds to spare. Samson was barreling towards me, he would have caught up to me if I had been even a little slower.

After unsuccessfully trying to snap at me, Samson gave up and retreated back into the water; but I knew he was still out there, waiting.

Worse, almost immediately after I climbed the tree, it started raining. Which meant the storm was imminent. I had to worry if I wanted to escape getting caught in the wind and rain.

_____

I could see one of the extraction doors. The emergency outdoor unlock lever would probably get me inside, but I would still have to get past Samson.

I threw a stick in the water. Samson took the bait and rose up to attack it, thinking it was an animal that landed in his pit. I used the opportunity to jump down from the tree, and run.

I dashed towards the extraction door, and pulled the lever as hard as I could. I loosened it, but couldn't get it all the way, and didn’t have a lot of time once Samson noticed what I was doing.

“Shit.” I said to myself before desperately trying to get to another tree. This time, I didn't make it; Samson ran up to me and got a hold of my leg.

“AHHH!” I shouted in pain. I then turned and stabbed him in the face with my box cutter. When it barely punctured his scales, I leaned in and got him in the eye.

That made him let go of me and retreat. I then crawled towards another tree, and once again pulled myself up to keep away from Samson.

___

The rain was getting worse; it was difficult to even see straight without focusing. I knew I needed to escape, and fast, or else I’d be a goner.

I jumped as far as I could, and dashed towards the gate. I pulled the lever, and this time I pulled all the way down. I then opened the hatch, and crawled inside.

I thought I was safe; I thought I could close the door, grab the emergency rifle, and get to safety. But then, I tried to shut the hatch, desperately hoping that I had escaped Samson. But then, right as I was closing the door, something blocked it. A snout blocked it.

“Shit.” I muttered to myself as Samson muscled his way into the room.

I didn’t have time to grab the rifle. Instead, I quickly opened one of the room’s gator kennels, and slid myself inside. Those things could hold alligators up to nine feet long, so I had enough room. Samson tried banging on the glass, but he couldn’t get to me.

And just when I thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, water began draining in from the hatch. The storm was creating a flood in the pit, a flood that was spilling over into the extraction room.

____

I waited for what felt like an eternity. I truly don’t know if it was two minutes or twenty, at that point, my brain was going a million miles an hour. I finally got grounded again when Brennan walked in, distracted by his walkie talkie. “Shit, one of the extraction doors opened, the whole room is…”

“BRENNAN, STOP!” I shouted right before Samson bit into his leg.

There was nothing he or I could do to save him. Samson dragged him down, and began devouring him alive.

I burst out of the kennel, and ran to grab the rifle. “Son of a bitch.” I muttered to myself before firing at Samson.

I hit him in the back; I clearly hurt him, but not enough to kill. Samson then came back and charged at me; I crawled onto a table, and took another shot.

My shots were clearly hurting him, but he wasn’t dead yet. He then threw his body weight against the table, knocking me off of it.

He then charged at me, mouth wide open. But split seconds before he could reach me, I fired, and my shot landed right in his mouth. He then dropped on the floor, his face landing just inches from mine.

I then found the walkie talkie and radioed.

“Mr. Gutierez, it’s me, Samantha. I need help, my leg is real bad, call an ambulance.”

______

He ran down there to help me out of there. He did the best he could with our first aid kits while we waited on the paramedics. Thankfully, my leg wasn’t as bad as I thought, they told me I was gonna make a quick recovery.

I left Gatorworld at the end of the summer. I don’t have any ill will against the park; it was, after all, my decision to go for my watch. But I am glad that Samson is no more.

#short #short fiction #short story #short horror story #alligator #themepark #florida #Original Work #original writing #original fiction #story #original story #short horror #animal #animals #state of florida

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starlessea · 3 years

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Here Comes the Sun: XI. Time is Running Out (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 7954

Chapter Warnings: Language, Implied trauma, Violence and injury.

You were running. Every corridor connected into another one, each less familiar than the last. The muffled groans and sluggish footsteps got louder with every passing minute, as you felt yourself lose energy. You slammed another door open and ran down the next dark hallway, squinting as the lights flickered dimly to illuminate the dead.

Eventually, you reached a set of double doors and flew through them, not stopping to look back. Your lungs burned as you panted, and your legs felt unstable under you. Quickly, you turned the corner, only to see the dead end it concealed. Your knees buckled beneath you as you let out a sob, hands trembling uncontrollably. The undead closed in on you, swarming the doors and creeping through the crack one by one.

You pressed your back against the wall, scurrying to crawl away as you watched them approach. It was then that you spotted the first walker break through, trudging forward with its legs dragging behind. It was a man. It had been a man. It was tall and large, with a build nearly double your size. Despite the pale greyness of its eyes, you swore that its gaze leered over you in a way that made your skin crawl.

It gurgled as it got closer, blackish blood coming up from its mouth and splattering the floor by your feet. You noticed the wound on its chest, like a gunshot, that oozed each time it took a step. It got closer, reaching out a grubby hand and gripping onto the collar of your vest. You let out a scream as its snapping jaws hovered above your face, almost as if trying to say something. Yet, all that came out was watery groans as the blood spattered onto you. Despite it being dead, you almost felt its breath over your cheek before it lunged.

You bolted upright in your sleeping bag, bringing a hand to your face and neck to check the skin there. Heaving, your chest swelled as you gasped for breath, and your ribcage felt like it might burst open from the force. You whipped your head around, taking in the surroundings of your tent. The yellow canvas walls remained the same as they always were, and your polaroid string hung above you like a faulty dreamcatcher.

As you tried to regulate your breathing, you wiped your forehead and the back of your neck, trying to soak up some of the sweat that had formed there. It was the same nightmares as usual. You'd been having them for a few days following the incident at the bar - especially since Randall still remained in the Greenes' barn, not even a few minutes walk from where you slept.

The light stung your eyes and you rubbed the corners of them forcefully. Your sleep was usually disrupted, and you'd wake up periodically in the nights - so you often slept in now as a result. You hadn't told anyone about it, but you didn't have to. Daryl had noticed. The two of you had become closer after the incident, with him looking out for you a lot more than he usually did. He made sure that you didn't go anywhere near the barn, and had a lot to say when Rick decided on sparing the boy held prisoner within it.

In truth, Daryl had been your comfort these last couple of days. On the nights where you woke up in tears, drenched in your own sweat, he'd be conveniently sat near the firepit when you came outside to get some air. He'd say that he was keeping watch, but wouldn't go back to bed when you offered to take over - always waiting until you left, first. Even in the daytime, after you'd come around following a bitter cup of coffee, he wouldn't push you away if you wrapped yourself around his shoulders or grabbed his hand excitedly to show him something.

Sometimes, he'd even let you crawl into his tent when you wanted to ramble, listening for a while before his patience met its limit and he kicked you out. Still, you weren't sure what you'd have done without him. The sight of that shy smile of his, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes when he thought no one was looking - that was enough to keep you going when you had your doubts. Before you knew it, you realised that you would give anything to hear one of his shallow laughs, even if it meant making a fool out of yourself to pay for it.

Once you had settled down a bit, you pulled on a pair of jeans over your legs, to go with the button-up shirt you had slept in. Your curly hair was matted from the sweat, so you tied it up and away from your face rather than even attempting to comb out the knots. You were sure that you looked a bit of a state, but you didn't give it a second thought as you unzipped the yellow submarine and stood out into the morning air.

It had started getting a little colder, the dew collecting on the grass and forming little droplets that wet the toes or your boots. There was a slight chill in the air, where the breeze had picked up, but it wasn't quite cold yet. Still, you huddled the material of the shirt closer to your body and folded your arms, looking at the archer who sat a few feet over from you.

He glanced up for a second and gave you a curt nod, drawing his eyes away from what he was doing.

"You look like hell." He noted, not even looking at you as he said it.

Daryl sat on one of the tree stumps near the fire pit, head hanging down to focus on his hands. He had a rusted pocket knife in his palm, and was using it to sharpen one of the arrows he was making. You'd seen him do it before, watching mesmerised as he worked with the efficiency of a master craftsman. His hair seemed to be getting longer, compared to when you had first met him, and now draped a little in front of his eyes when he looked down. A few nights ago you'd teased him and asked if he was growing a mullet, but in reality you rather liked it.

You shot him a wide grin, dusting off your jeans as you took a seat beside him, ruffling his hair between your fingers in greeting.

"Then you must be heaven, angel." You winked, hoping that the teasing would distract from the grogginess of your voice. "Good morning." You added, seeing him shake his head at you.

He didn't grumble nearly as much at your jokes anymore. Sometimes, he'd even make some back. You enjoyed the playful banter, and the way it made your heart race when he let out the occasional deep laugh at you.

"You still wearin' that?" He asked, not even looking up.

You realised that he was referring to your button-up flannel shirt - the one he had given you. Most nights you slept in it, but you avoided wearing it in the daytime in case people noticed who it originally belonged to. In your half-awake state you must have forgotten to change out of it.

"Problem?" You quipped back too quickly, and you saw him roll his eyes at your defensiveness. "You said I could keep it." You reasoned.

Daryl hummed in response, blowing the wood shavings away from the stick he'd been carving.

"Looks like a dress on ya." He drawled, finally shooting you a sidewards glance and raising an eyebrow as he did so.

You beamed a smile at him, running your fingers over the material that draped down almost to your knees, and remembering how it had looked on him.

"And?" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's comfy." You explained, before asking why he minded so much.

He ignored you, continuing to shave down the arrow in his hands carefully. You didn't relent, standing up so that you were directly in front of him, and giving a small twirl to show off the shirt.

"Are you missing it?" You teased, trying to prompt him to look up. "Do you want it back?" You poked, walking around the log he was sitting on so that you were behind him while he worked.

Daryl let out a small sigh at your antics, putting down the blade and resting the arrow beside him. You didn't give him time to turn around and scold you, slipping your arms over his shoulders and around him before he could. Your chin rested just above the crook of his neck, and you could feel the wisps of his hair tickling at your cheek.

"What would you do for it?"

You'd wanted to joke with him, but it came out like more of a shy whisper as you lost your nerve. Your cheeks were nearly pressed together and you could feel the heat radiate off his skin. His heartbeat was quick beneath your palms where they rested, clasped over his chest. It felt like you had handfuls of butterflies, fluttering nervously there. You suddenly felt your own pulse pick up, as your playfulness started to seem a lot less innocent than it had only a few moments ago.

Someone cleared their throat from behind you, and you instantly flung yourself back from the man in shock. It was clumsy, and you'd almost taken the archer with you as you slipped on the damp grass beneath your feet. Daryl shot you a glare after he had recovered, grumbling about how you'd almost choked him.

You heard a chuckle and turned to see Glenn watching the exchange, his baseball cap in his hands. Quickly, you fumbled out an apology which sounded more like an excuse, explaining how he'd startled you. He shook his head before giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"Sorry to interrupt." He started, looking between you and Daryl. The other man stayed silent, going back to his work like he'd never taken a break from it. "Could I borrow you for a minute?" Glenn continued, gesturing to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him before he explained. "I'm doing some work on the RV with Dale. We could use some help and everyone else is busy."

You looked over at Daryl, and then back at Glenn, before agreeing. You gave the man a small wave as you said goodbye, not really sure of how to act around him now. You didn't know whether it was what you had done that made you shy, or the fact that Glenn had caught you doing it. In truth, you hadn't really planned for anything to happen, but you got caught up in the moment without realising it. You tried not to think about what could have played out if Glenn hadn't showed up.

Daryl gave you a quick nod as you left, and you and Glenn started walking towards the RV. In the distance, you could see Dale lounging on the roof of the vehicle, under his parasol like usual. He had his binoculars in his hands and gave the pair of you a wave when he saw you together.

"So," Glenn dragged, catching your attention, "what was that?"

"What was what?" You bit back, feigning ignorance.

The man didn't buy it, knowing you better than your cheap lies by now.

"You know what." He said, with an air of certainty about him. "You and Daryl, just now."

You stayed silent, not wanting to give anything away. In all honesty, you weren't sure yourself about what had happened back there, and didn't really know how to answer. If you were being truthful, you definitely felt something for the man. You had done for a while. Daryl, on the other hand, you weren't sure about. How long had it taken him just to be accepting of your touch, and not shy away from your hugs? How many hours had the two of you spent together before he stopped looking at you with distrust, or flinching away if you moved too suddenly. At this point, you were content with what the two of you had. Or, you tried to convince yourself that you were.

"I saw that whole thing back there." Glenn carried on, catching you lost in your own thoughts.

"Yeah?" You questioned, giving him a side-eye glance as you smirked. "Well I see you and Maggie sneaking off to the stables at night, but you don't hear me saying anything about it."

Glenn inhaled sharply beside you, seeming to choke on whatever reply he had planned. You let out a snort at his expression, and clapped your hand over his back as the two of you reached the RV.

"Choose your battles carefully, Rhee." You warned him teasingly, watching as he squirmed under your touch.

"Yes, Ma'am."

The three of you worked together on the RV for a while before taking a short break. It was mostly Dale instructing you to pass him tools and run to ask Hershel if he had the things you were missing. You were pretty clueless when it came to any kind of vehicle, so you tried to absorb as much as you could, mentally matching the names with all of the parts that Dale showed you. Glenn seemed to know much more, having spent a lot of time with the older man during the day. Surprisingly, you all got along really well and even cracked some jokes as you scrambled to remember which screwdriver head was which.

Glenn eventually excused himself to go and help T-Dog out with something, and Dale left you 'in charge' of the toolbox, as he put it, as he left to go with him. You hadn't been there long, sitting on the steps of the trailer in a daze by yourself, before Maggie had come out of the farmhouse with a pitcher of lemonade for you all. She sat down next to you, offering you a glass. You took a gulp, feeling the coolness run down the back of your throat as the ice cubes hit your teeth. It was really refreshing.

"Glenn told me about you and Daryl this mornin'." She looked over at you with a grin.

You rolled your eyes at her, wondering when the man had even had time to say anything. He'd only gone into the farmhouse for all of five minutes to use the bathroom, before you all had started work on the RV. That boy never ceased to amaze you with his ability to run his mouth. You already felt exasperated by all of the questioning, and you hadn't even begun to start answering your own yet.

"There's nothing to tell." You corrected, but her smile didn't let up. "I already warned your boyfriend to worry about his own dirt, instead of trying to dig up other people's."

You shot her a look that you thought would tell her to drop it, but she didn't take the hint. Or, she didn't care to, more accurately.

"He thinks you're sleepin' together." She said matter of factly, taking a sip of her own lemonade nonchalantly and ignoring your expression.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, totally not expecting those words to come out of the mouth of a farmer's daughter. Then again, you knew what she and Glenn got up to when they thought nobody else was around.

"Maggie!" You gasped, slapping her shoulder.

The lemonade spilt out of the top of her glass slightly, and splashed onto her jeans.

"What? I didn't say it." She frowned at you, wiping the stain. "Can you blame him?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow in your direction.

You usually felt like you could talk to Maggie about anything, and rarely got embarrassed at any of the details she shared with you, either. Yet, you couldn't help but feel a bit dumbstruck at the allegation. The thought of you and Daryl - sweet and shy Daryl Dixon - sleeping together had just tipped you over the edge like lemonade in a glass.

Maggie went on, ignoring your stunned silence. "The two of you got ya tents away from the rest of your group, and hang around each other most of the goddamn day." She pointed out, nodding her head in the direction of your camp in the distance.

"That's not fair." You pouted. "He's my friend, and I spend the same amount of time with you and Beth as I do him." You defended, but she crossed her arms and gave you a once over - making an obvious point of looking you up and down.

"You're wearing his shirt." She said flatly, glancing at it like she'd been waiting to bring up the observation for a while now.

"And some days I wear yours!" You retorted, raising your voice in desperation.

You stood up from the step, and Maggie laughed at how flustered she'd made you.

Before she could add anymore, you spotted Glenn walking back to the RV with a dumb smile on his face, totally oblivious of the chaos he'd caused. You shot him a glare, causing Maggie to look over in his direction.

"Glenn Rhee, get your ass over here now!" You yelled at him, and watched as his face fell.

He looked over at Maggie, who just shrugged her shoulders and collected the empty glasses. She gave Glenn a quick peck on the cheek before whispering something about him being on his own, before leaving to return to the farmhouse.

"Ah shit." He muttered below his breath, looking over at you with a sheepish smile.

You stayed by the RV well into the evening, after chewing out Glenn and sending him on his way. You'd offered to put all of the tools back since Dale wanted to go out for a walk and check on the fences around the area. He gave you a warm smile as he left, offering you a 'thanks, kid' that reminded you of your own grandfather. You didn't even try to argue back with him that you were in your twenties, just sending a smile his way in return.

It was already dark outside, since the seasons were changing and making the world seem more shadowy at earlier and earlier hours each day. You had borrowed a jacket from Beth the last time she came out, handing you a sandwich in place of the dinner you'd skipped. The air was chilly and you were grateful for the extra layer protecting you against the cool night's kiss. The breeze rustled the leaves and made a few flutter down to the ground, next to your feet.

It was peaceful, and you could see the warm light flicker through the windows of the Greene farmhouse. The rest of the group were out doing perimeter checks and mending some of the fences, so it was just you standing as the sole guard of a rundown RV. Once you had finished organising the array of screwdrivers back into their meticulous places, just as Dale had instructed, you closed the toolbox and secured it shut by the latch.

You sat back onto the step, rolling your stiff shoulders and wishing that Daryl was here to give you one of his Spartan massages that hurt so bad but felt so good. You scarcely had time to relax before a scream had you bolting upright and alert. It was in the distance, you could tell, but it was definitely a scream.

Immediately, you rushed inside the RV to retrieve one of the pistols from the gun bag there, before setting off running in the direction of the yells. It didn't take you long to notice the group that had gathered near the end fence of one of the fields, close to the woods. You kept your pistol lowered in your hand as you jogged towards them, still not able to make out what they were all crowded over.

As you got closer, you saw how Lori was shielding Carl from the scene and prepared yourself for whatever you were about to witness. It didn't take long before it came into view, the sight of Dale on the ground and the dispatched walker beside him. It was horrifically graphic. The man you'd been joking with not even an hour before now laid there with his entire chest cavity exposed. It was so violent that you weren't able to tear your eyes away as he gurgled the familiar sound of death from his throat, like the one you heard in your nightmares.

It looked as though his ribs had been pried open and you could only watch as the older man suffered. His eyes met yours, pupils wide and dilated as he tried to speak. You stared back helplessly before someone stood in front of you, blocking your view. The printed angel wings told you who it was before you even looked up.

You watched the ground as you heard the familiar cocking of a pistol, and your eyes rested on the fishing hat that had fallen a few feet away. Images flashed through your mind of Dale wearing it, and him putting it on Carl's head occasionally to swap it out with his sheriff's one. You kept your gaze on it, lying abandoned in the grass, as Daryl spoke to the man.

"Sorry, brother." He said, and pulled the trigger.

That night you returned to your tent alone, trailing slowly behind the others, and thought about that hat and the man who wore it. Glenn had picked it up and taken it with Rick and Shane, as they went to dig a grave for Dale. You kept thinking back to a few days ago, and how you'd all sat around the fire of the main camp, spread out on the deckchairs one night. Even Daryl had joined you, as you had bribed everyone to endure your company with the promise of Jack Daniels.

You brought the bottle with you in your satchel, taking a seat by the fire pit next to Dale, who shook his head when you took it out. You offered him a small smile and shrugged, telling him that you'd come across it whilst scavenging with Glenn and Maggie. As the others arrived, you poured some shots to whoever wanted any, and made them swear not to tell Hershel.

The night had been a small dose of escapism washed down with whiskey. There wasn't enough for you all to get completely drunk, but the tipsiness definitely settled in and got you all loosened up and giggling. At some point, Glenn had devised a game that resembled 'never have I ever,' but even got the people who weren't drinking involved.

Much to Dale's dismay, the slightly buzzed man had pulled the hat from his head and stated that whoever wore it had to answer one question completely truthfully. The fishing cap then made its way around the circle, as you listened to Shane talk about stealing a car, T-Dog's videogame collection, and how Carol had once put laxatives in Ed's coffee.

"You're kidding!" Andrea yelled in disbelief, when it was finally your turn. "There's no way you have a tattoo."

"I do." You smiled, taking a sip of your drink and feeling it numb the back of your throat. "And no, I'm not showing it to you." You winked at her, causing the group to laugh.

"It's in a risky spot, ain't it?" Shane teased, looking over his glass at you with a cheeky grin.

"No!" You shouted at him, which gained even more laughter from the onlookers.

Shane shook his head at you with a smile. "Yeah, whatever you say."

Lori piped up from where she sat. She wasn't drinking, now that she was pregnant, but she seemed content enough from the atmosphere.

"I can't believe you have one." She spoke, looking you up and down slightly as if trying to guess where it was. "I never pictured you the type."

You snorted at her words. "What? Just because I was a teacher for a short while?" You teased, crossing your arms.

People usually made the same assumptions about you, even before the world had ended. You had an education from a prestigious university, bright eyes and that naive look. It was only natural that most people didn't consider you as the type to hang around at rock concerts with your father or work part-time shifts at the bars he played at when they were understaffed.

"I have fifteen piercings, too." You added, feeling generous with your information.

Rick shook his head at you with doubt, and you found it refreshing to see the sheriff look so relaxed.

"What? Where?" He questioned, squinting his eyes at you. "How come we haven't seen them?"

"Because I keep my hair down most of the time." You explained, before tucking the strands behind your ears to reveal them.

A few members of the group came over to get a closer look, and you grinned like an excited puppy, showing off the metal jewelry to them.

"And I have my belly button done." You added, pointing to your stomach but not lifting your vest to show them.

T-Dog watched you with suspicion across the campfire, as if he couldn't entirely figure you out. His eyes were narrowed and you shot him your best grin as he stared you down half-heartedly.

"None of this fits my image of you." He admitted, and a few people agreed.

You shrugged your shoulders, pouring yourself another shot and not caring whether or not you should slow down. You felt better than you had in a long time. Even though your head felt a little fuzzy and your throat burned each time you knocked your glass back, you couldn't put a price on the laughter you all shared and the memories each of you recalled.

"What do you want me to say?" You asked sarcastically. "Pretend that I spent most of my time at libraries and not gigs, listening to Led Zeppelin?"

You heard a low chuckle beside you, as Daryl took the bottle from your hand and poured some more into his own glass.

"Thought you said you were borin'." He drawled, his accent even thicker from the whiskey.

"I am now!" You said loudly, throwing your hands up in defeat.

The others laughed a bit at that, before you went on, prying at the other man who had refused the hat of truth when it came his way. You'd tried to force it on that stubborn head of his, but had only succeeded in spilling one of the glasses and getting a scolding from Lori.

"What about you, Dixon." You eyed him where he sat. "I can't even imagine you existing before all of this." You admitted.

He raised an eyebrow at you, but you continued. "It's like you were built to survive an apocalypse."

You saw the others nod in agreement, staying silent to listen for the man's response. A few of them had seemed surprised that Daryl was even participating, and now looked even more confused at how the two of you interacted with each other.

"What d'you mean?" He asked, taking a swig from his glass.

You smiled to yourself before answering. "I don't know." You confessed, before addressing the rest of the group. "Can the rest of you picture Daryl Dixon mundanely watching TV, and eating pizza instead of squirrel?"

That joke got a lot of approval from them, as you saw Carol let out a snort in the corner of your eye, holding onto her own small drink with both hands.

"Shut up." Daryl grumbled in response, but you saw the slight smile that lingered on his face.

After that, you had placed Dale's hat back on the older man's head and gave him a hug before turning in for the night. You felt giddy from alcohol and good company, and had squeezed him tightly before telling him that no one else suited that old, raggedy fishing cap as much as he did.

The next morning after Dale's death was hard, but you'd all had practice in dealing with death by now. The funeral was carried out quickly, and Rick made a speech about how the group needed to honour Dale by being more in sync with their decisions - referring especially to Randall. You all then gave a few words, and said your goodbyes. Glenn had made a small wooden cross as a marker for his grave, and hung the fishing cap on top of it at the end of the informal ceremony.

After that, the Greenes had tried to distract you all by telling you to pack your things up and prepare to move into their farmhouse for winter. Given that they'd become a lot closer to you all in the last few weeks, and that Lori was now pregnant, they said that it was only reasonable. It would be a bit of squeeze to fit you all in, they admitted, but it would be better than freezing outside in flimsy tents exposed to the elements.

So, there you were, collecting your belongings and putting them into your worn satchel with care. You didn't have much, save for your polaroids, some clothes and your knife. The only things you had left to pack down were your sleeping bag and your yellow submarine, so you decided to go and check how Daryl was doing before you continued.

The two of you hadn't had much time to talk about the events of last night, barely exchanging a few glances and letting your palms brush against each other during the funeral. He'd gone through a lot in the last couple days, being left with the dirty work of torturing Randall and having to shoot Dale. Even if he seemed alright, you thought that he probably held some guilt for what had happened. You knew that you certainly did. You spent the night wondering why you hadn't gone with the older man, wishing that you'd gotten there sooner.

You clambered out of your tent with your satchel strapped over your chest, before walking a few steps over to Daryl's. His tent was unzipped, and you poked your head around the entrance to see him crouched inside, collecting his arrows and the few possessions he had scattered around. You watched him in silence for a moment, as if trying to find any sign of distress before he noticed you.

"Don' worry yourself, Sunshine." The man grumbled, sensing you.

He didn't even look up from what he was doing, which made you jump in surprise at having been caught.

"Jus' go pack down yer own tent." He instructed, folding up a pile of his clothes and stuffing them into a backpack.

"Sunshine?" You questioned, wondering whether or not the nickname was sarcastic, as you continued to watch him with suspicion.

You crouched down in the entryway, debating whether or not to go in.

"Look, Daryl-" you started gently, but he cut you off midway.

"'M fine." He said sternly. "Don't need no therapy session every time one of us kills someone."

You let out a sigh, deciding to go inside. You crawled your way past him, making yourself comfortable on top of his sleeping bag while he worked around you.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not planning on making it a habit." You admitted gently, seeing him stop what he was doing and look over at you.

"Ain't about what ya want. It's about survivin'." He corrected gruffly, his eyes meeting yours.

You gave him a sad smile before responding. "I know. But I don't want to live like that." You said. "There's a difference."

He shook his head, sitting back so that he was opposite you.

"Ain't no difference when yer dead." He muttered, and you could make out the slight flicker of pain behind his eyes.

You looked down to your hands, gathering your thoughts. You weren't sure whether you wanted to make yourself vulnerable to man by telling him your true feelings on the matter, but you felt like you needed to. You owed him that much.

"When I was out there alone, before I found you that day-" you started, recalling the days that seemed like a lifetime ago to you now. "That was surviving."

The man listened to you silently, his stare heavy as he took you in.

"At first, I was just grateful to be alive." You admitted, feeling ashamed to say the words out loud. "My camp, they were the brave ones."

You saw as Daryl started to shake his head to disagree, but you didn't let him interrupt.

"I just ran away and hid." You confessed, voice small as you said it. "After that I realised how unfair it all was."

Daryl stayed silent for a few seconds, before responding.

"What was unfair?" He asked, his words gravelly.

You met his eyes, already feeling like you'd revealed too much to him.

"How us cowardly would always be the last ones standing." You said softly, looking back down at your hands and thinking of all the people they failed to protect.

This time, Daryl responded quickly, moving closer to you so that you heard his words clearly.

"Ya ain't no coward." He spoke, his face near yours as he tried to catch your gaze.

You met it, fighting the urge to look away as the intensity made you want to tremble.

"You're a force, Teach." He told you, like it was a fact.

He stared at you for a few seconds, as though waiting for you to accept it.

You nodded at him eventually, letting out a small sigh as you realised that you'd been holding your breath.

"I don't want to just survive anymore, Daryl." You told him. "I want to live. I want a life that I'm okay with fighting to protect." You continued, feeling your voice grow stronger with each passing second.

Daryl remained still where he sat, giving you his entire attention.

"I know you hear me at night." You confessed, thinking back on the times you'd woken up yelling at invisible figures, or panting to try and catch your breath.

You caught his eyes flicker, as he fidgeted a bit and stretched out his legs.

"You pretend like you don't, but I know you do." You went on. "When I wake up from a bad dream you've always got your lantern lit, or sometimes you'll get up just to toss a log on the fire, and make an excuse that you can't sleep."

You smiled to yourself as you watched him feign ignorance, as though he needed to keep up an act you both knew had broken. No matter the type of man Daryl Dixon pretended to be, you saw straight through him.

"I'm at a point where I don't regret it anymore." You continued, not really sure where you were going with your speech. "Killing those men." You clarified, seeing him tense as you did so.

"I know it makes me sound like a monster, but I'd rather let the nightmares haunt me if it means that my family won't."

You took a deep breath, wondering if you should carry on to the point where there was no turning back.

"If it means that I can sit here now, with you, and be thankful that I was the one who managed to pull the trigger first." You finished, afraid to look up and meet his eyes.

You felt entirely exposed to him, as you sat there on the scratchy material of his sleeping bag, running your hands over it for comfort.

"Is this it?" He asked after a few seconds.

"What?" You replied, watching as he shuffled about in front of you.

"Is this the life you want?" He muttered, his voice coming out strained.

You nodded your head. "It can be." You told him. "It is." You reiterated, more certain this time.

You felt like all of your thoughts and worries were spilling out before you, like tipped ink spreading over paper. You couldn't stop yourself from telling the man everything.

"We've lost people," you acknowledged, not missing the way he frowned as you said it, "Dale and Sofia." You continued. "We'll probably lose more."

"But, call me delusional, I still have hope." You said with a smile, wondering if you truly were fooling yourself.

Daryl seemed to think so too, furrowing his eyebrows at you.

"What're ya hopin' for?" He asked.

"I don't know." You answered.

"Some days it's for a cure to be found." You said, wistfully. "Others it's that we can all live peacefully on this farm until we grow old. Sometimes, I just want to find a matching pair of socks in my laundry." You finished with a slight chuckle.

"And recently, I've been hoping that it rains." You added, hoping that he wouldn't laugh at that one in particular.

He didn't, instead glancing out of the tent, towards the clouds gathered above it.

"Give it a couple days." He mumbled, and you didn't doubt him for a second.

"Yeah, I hope so." You responded, looking up at the sky, too.

You sat in his company for a bit longer as he resumed his packing like nothing had happened. He didn't seem to have much, either, but you still watched curiously as he went through it. After a short while you noticed him pick up a glossy magazine, and put it in one of the bags. You instantly recognised it as the one you'd given him before, from the gas station, about motorcycles. You were surprised that he'd kept it, since it had been a few weeks since then.

"Did you read it?" You questioned, before you even realised you had said it.

"Yeah." Daryl responded, matter of factly.

"And?" You pried, stretching out your legs to laze back further on his sleeping bag. "Got any tips for me?"

He scoffed at that, shooting you a glance as he zipped up the bag. "Don' fall off."

You rolled your eyes at him, before deciding to tease him back a little.

"Mark my words, Dixon." You pointed at him. "One day I'll be the one riding that thing and you'll be clinging onto me."

He didn't bite to it, sitting back down opposite you with a smug look on his face.

"You tryna give me nightmares now?"

When he finished, you reached for your satchel lying next to you, remembering one of the reasons you had come to see the man in the first place. You pulled out his flannel shirt from it, which you'd neatly folded earlier on, and offered it out to him.

"I was thinking that I should probably return this to you." You explained, as he gave you a confused look.

"Thought ya was gonna use it to bribe somethin' outta me." He quipped, snarkily.

You nodded at him, rubbing your thumb over the material.

"Yeah, I thought about it." You admitted. "But then I realised that we were all going to be staying in the Greenes' living room together from tonight. Practically on top of each other."

Daryl stared down at the shirt in your hands, but didn't take it from you. Instead, he leant back on his knuckles, as if moving even further away from it

"What's that have to do with 'nything?" He asked, and you wondered whether you were prepared to answer truthfully.

You thought back on the game you'd all played with Dale's fishing hat and wished that you were wearing it now, to be able to muster up some false courage.

"Well," you started, swallowing thickly, "then you'd realise that I sleep in it every night." You confessed, noticing how his expression changed a little. "And that would be embarrassing."

Suddenly, the silence started to seem stifling to you as you played with your hands in your lap, looking down at them. You felt your stomach flip as you awaited his response, but it never came. Instead of waiting any longer, you decided to get out of there before facing inevitable rejection. You cleared your throat and started packing up your satchel in a hurry.

"Anyway, I should go." You excused, trying not to appear flustered. "Got to haul anchor on the yellow submarine."

You picked up his shirt once again and held it out to him, looking over with pleading eyes and praying that he'd just take it so you could leave.

He didn't, shaking his head again at the gesture.

"Nah, it's yours." He said gruffly. "I don' care what ya do with it."

You spoke up, wondering if you were really willing to fight with this man over a shirt.

"You might not, but I'm sure the others would have something to say about it." You explained, thinking about how Maggie had picked up on it straight away when you'd worn it by accident the day before.

"Here." You said more sternly, placing it into his lap. "Back with its rightful owner."

Daryl took it from his lap and placed it beside him, as he fumbled around in his jean pocket and pulled out his zippo from it. He flicked it open with his thumb and you watched as the blue flame jumped up, before he closed it again.

"Got enough gifts from ya." He said, gesturing to the lighter before looking over to the backpack where he'd put the magazine earlier.

He then pointed to the shirt, laid out in the space between you like a bargaining chip. "What were ya wantin' for it?"

You realised that he was referring to what you had said earlier, before Glenn had interrupted, and recalled how dangerously close the two of you had been.

"Nothing." You choked out, but it sounded forced. "I was just teasing."

"Ya weren't." Daryl said with certainty, and you felt your resolve crumbling.

"You're right." You replied.

Your eyes flickered over the man sitting in front of you, at his skin that was glazed by the sun and how much time he spent outdoors recently, and at his pale, steely blue eyes that watched you, watching him. He seemed just as nervous as you were, as if waiting for something to happen - for either of you to make a move. Yet, Daryl Dixon was shy. He was a sweet man bundled up in layers of trust issues and insecurity, which sometimes reared their heads as anger and frustration.

You saw beneath that. You saw the way he looked out for the group, and how he was hurt more deeply than any of the others at the loss of one of them. You noticed how he'd be up earlier than anyone else, making sure it was safe, and then how he'd go to bed the latest, too. At the same time, you were almost certain that this wasn't the same man you hauled from the creek that day. He looked the same, give or take a few scars and want of a haircut, but he was different. You could tell how much he'd grown in just a short space of time. He was a good man before, even if people were often fooled by his abrasive exterior, but he was an even better one now.

You gave him a warm smile, and felt a lot calmer than you had done in a while. You knew it was now or never, and accepted that you were, in fact, willing to risk it all for Daryl Dixon.

"There's one more thing I've been hoping for, as of late." You admitted, moving from his sleeping bag to crawl over to where he sat.

He stayed still, watching with a shy look, glancing over you as you approached with caution. As you got closer to him, so close that you could almost feel the weight of his eyes lingering on you, you picked up the discarded shirt and showed it to him.

He looked down at it in your hands before meeting your eyes again. You let your gaze flicker over his face, taking in his shy expression, before settling on his lips. This is what you wanted in return for his shirt, and you needed him to realise that.

You noticed how nervous he looked, and how he seemed to hold his breath at the proximity you shared. You rested one of your hands over his, feeling how warm it was beneath your own, before asking him your question.

"Are you sure you still want it back?" You flicked your eyes to the shirt and back at him, making sure he understood what you meant.

His gaze rested on you for a few seconds, as you felt your breath catch in your throat waiting for his response. He nodded.

You smiled back, raising your other hand to cup his cheek gently, stroking over it with your thumb as you felt a wave of affection run through you for the man under your fingertips. They almost trembled against him, as you felt a mixture of nerves and pure, simple emotion swell to the surface. Though, you felt his hand squeeze your other one, where you held it, and relaxed into his touch that reassured you.

You closed your eyes and closed the remaining distance between you both, placing a chaste kiss on his lips that made you feel a lot more than you'd expected it to. He was warm, and sweet, and trembling slightly. It made you smile into the kiss, and press more firmly against his cheek to remind him you were there. Even though it was obvious that you were there, kissing him, you needed him to know that you felt the same as he did.

You pulled away slowly, trying not to push for more. Your hand left his face and rested back at your side, suddenly feeling empty. The silence was loud, but it was comfortable. Your ears weren't ringing as they usually did. Instead, you focused on the soft sounds of Daryl's breathing, and watched as his eyes flickered over you and down to your own lips with want, as you had done to his. Though, he didn't seem quite confident enough in himself to act on it, and remained still.

Your heart beat quickly in your chest from the adrenaline, and you decided not to tempt things any further with him, either. He didn't say a word for a few seconds, but you didn't feel any sign of rejection. You moved away from him a little, allowing him his space, before picking up his shirt for the final time and pressing it into his chest lightly.

"Now it's yours again." You offered him a warm smile, which you felt was perhaps too big for your face. He took it from you.

You found it hard to conceal what you were feeling, but the look in his eyes told you that he didn't mind all that much. You sat in wordless wonder for a few minutes, considering what to say or do next. The sky had darkened a little as the clouds blocked the sunlight, and you felt the breeze pick up as your exposed skin prickled at the chill.

Then, you heard footsteps as someone approached the tent in a run. You whipped your head over to see Rick appear, ducking his head through the entryway and looking at the both of you with wide eyes.

"I need you to come with me, now." He instructed. "Randall's escaped."

A/N ahhhhhhh. AHHHH. I was SO excited to write this chapter, I cannot even tell you. This is merely the BEGINNING - the first flicker of this SLOW BURN! Just you wait until that confession... I have big things planned ;)

As usual, drop me a message to be included in the tags list!

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@xxboesefrauxx @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @teel-dinosaur @greenbeansarelit @bunnymother93 @alularae3 @death-becomes-her @royaleclown @alex-sulli

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janekfan · 3 years

Note

Saw you were looking for some Jon Tim prompts so here's a few! :D 1) Tim decides to stalk Jon to show him what it feels like. Jon is satisfyingly frazzled; then a fear shows up. 2) Jon protects Tim from the Distortion Michael. Tim's confused. 3) Jon get lost in the tunnels. Perhaps Tim can hear him from the trap door and ends up pulling him out. They're both in bad shape and Martin is ticked. 4) Tim finds Jon after he gets stabbed by Michael. Happy Prompt Hunting!

I went with number 4! :D All are very good though

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28436451

Jon was being shifty again.

Not like that was anything new, and Tim had caught wind of a bread knife rumor?

But whatever. It was no concern of his and he’d rather go the day withouth seeing him if he could. Avoid the hot spike of poisonous anger that followed after every infuriating interaction and seeped, staining, into all other aspects of his life. Better to leave him be. Let Basira and Daisy and Melanie and Martin deal with him and leave Tim to work on his high scores.

So of course it would just be the two of them in the office today. Martin dropped off Jon’s tea like clockwork and strode bitterly out of the Archives without so much as glancing at Tim. He’d delivered his warnings earlier when he’d been assigned this field research and Tim would follow the instructions to leave him be to the letter.

“He’s exhausted, Tim.”

“Don’t care.”

“I. I know. What I’m trying to say is don’t make things worse.” Tim scoffed at that. Yes, he would be the ones making it all worse. Because it wasn’t worse already. Sasha wasn’t gone, they weren’t trapped here because of Jon who definitely hadn’t turned into some paranoid stalker armed with evil powers.

But yeah. He wouldn’t make things worse.

The makeshift pad of gauze and bandaging was soaked through with his own bright blood and staring at it brought a wash of dizziness over him and flooded his mouth with salt. Before he could faint dead away he reached for his dwindling supplies and prepared to change the dressing. If it didn’t stop this time, he’d have no choice but to ask for help.

If they’d spare any.

Jon hissed through his teeth when removing the compress served only to break the clot, pouring a hot runnel over his skin that caught and welled and spilled over the ladder of his ribs. Blacked at the edges, his vision tunneled, and nausea coiled sour in his stomach. It hurt. It hurt to breathe, to think, to move, deep, deep, deep and aching in the very core of him. Graceless and bumbling, Jon struggled to cover the surprisingly small incision and wrap himself tight enough to please, please stop bleeding. Holding himself close and careful, Jon staggered to his feet only to knock his hip hard against the desk as he went woozy.

He’d stood for something. Risked toppling over for something but the pounding of his pulse in his temples made everything that much harder and the room was spinning around and around and he nearly joined it, teetering a half turn before lurching to a stop, pressing his arm against his throbbing side.

It hurt.

One of them must have painkillers of some sort. Sash--

She. He.

How could he’d have forgotten? A bolt of fresh sorrow struck him so hard in the chest it stole his breath away with it and he sagged beneath its gravity, gripping the cool metal of the door handle painfully for support, looking down and seeing it as though it were the first time.

Where…? He needed something. Needed...because it hurt. He hurt and he needed help.

“Jesus, Jon!” Tim’s whole body flinched violently when he realized Jon was hovering near his desk like a wraith, sallow and with shadows like bruises lining the sharp planes of his face. “What?” His silence was petrol on the fire of Tim’s always simmering anger and it flared brightly, blinding, such that Jon staggered a step back, lifting a trembling hand only to drop it back to his side.

“T’Tim.” He swallowed with a click, and Tim watched his throat work, lashes fluttering like moth’s wings, brows knit together in effort and confusion.

“Out with it!”

“D’you‘ave pa, para…?” Even with his tripped up tongue, the compulsion found a way to thread through the question and Tim saw the fear fill up Jon’s glassy eyes when he realized a beat later what he’d done. Resisting was painful, the static filled up his ears, his head, his blood with its continuous hiss, rising higher and higher as he tried his damndest not to answer what really was a simple question. It wasn’t about that though. It wasn’t alright for Jon to take like that, to use whatever the hell this was to pull what he wanted to know from the inside of them without a thought. To hurt them just to Know.

In the end, he had no choice and coughed up his elucidation like a mouthful of razors, slamming his fist against his desk and using the leverage to stand and confront him.

“S’sorry. Din’t...” slurred and barely intelligible, the empty apologies only made Tim angrier and for one awful moment, he wanted to hit him. Give back just a fraction of the pain he’d caused all of them with his selfish ignorance. He wrestled it down with difficulty, clenched his teeth against the residual ache of Jon’s power.

“What’d you do to yourself?” Because the man looked hungover, sweaty and sick, paler by the minute and he wouldn’t blame him for crawling into a bottle. Might even be inclined to join him if he ever extended an offer.

“H’hur’s.” Jon’s overture broke open in a sob, his clawing, grasping fingers twisted in his dark jumper over his stomach and it looked as though he was considering lurching for the bin.

“Are you pisse--whoa!” Instead, Jon stumbled into him and reflexively, Tim shoved him away, like he was something disgusting, watching him trip over clumsy feet and land hard on his side in a sprawl of uncoordinated limbs. Tim yanked him up roughly, ignoring the sharp intake of breath, and tugged him back to his office by a bony elbow, muttering unkindly, “just sober up or whatever.”

The door slammed behind Jon and reverberated into his aching bones. He’d forgotten what he needed and the pain was so bad now it had removed any remaining will he had to stay awake. After Tim pushed him and he hit the ground, (clumsy, stupid, can’t even walk on your own) it was like being stabbed by Michael all over again; a burst of bright white twisting, turning, contorting agony that wasn’t easing so much as it was spreading all the way to the tips of his fingers.

Maybe if he sat down, got off his feet, he’d not feel so ill. Yes...yes that would be good. It would be nice to rest for a moment, just close his burning eyes, just for a little while. Then he could get back to work, finish up those statements he was working on. He was working on statements? When he went to step forward a sharp pain rocked through him hard enough that he had to brace himself on the unforgiving hard wood of the desk.

What--

Suddenly weak in the knees, Jon all but collapsed into his chair, curling into himself, every harsh and hollow gasp of breath like the bite of a knife.

Half five and Jon still hadn't emerged a second time from his office. Tim was the only one left besides him and despite how adamantly he refused to care he does not want to draw Martin’s temper. This had nothing to do with his own concern and armed with the distance that afforded him, Tim knocked loudly, obnoxiously, rudely.

There was no response.

“Oi, Jon!” Shouldering open the door, he’s got a rant on the tip of his tongue and is looking forward to using it. “Drunk at work, whatever will Marto say? The scandal…” With no reaction forthcoming, no moaning or groaning or yelling Tim took a second to actually look at him, lying collapsed over his desk, cheek pillowed on one folded arm. He’s passed clean out, and Tim touched his forehead only to find it cold and clammy. Something was far from alright if Jon’s rapid, shallow breathing and nearly grey lips were anything to go by. “Boss?” He was slack and loose when Tim shook him none too gently, mouth falling open with an almost inaudible whine. Alarm bells were ringing, red flags cropping up the longer stayed in here with him and the weighty feeling of being watched made him shiver. Very suddenly he wanted out of there but when he pulled Jon upright his eyelids barely shifted and what little color remained drained from his face so quickly Tim barely got the bin in place for him to lose what little he had in his stomach, no more than a little tea really. If the moisture hadn’t glinted in the low light coming in from the other room, Tim wouldn’t have noticed the dark wet blotch blending with the fibers of Jon’s jumper or the red and rust staining his trousers halfway down his thigh.

“Jon!” He wasn’t awake, not really, body reacting with wretched whimpers and the sluggish shifting of his arms when Tim eased him out of the chair and onto the ground. “Shit. Shit!” 999. 999 and following their explicit instructions; elevate his legs, keep him warm, don’t let him aspirate on his own sick. He lifted the sopping and soaked fabric of his borrowed clothing and his hand flew to cover his mouth when he saw the damage and he thought back to Jon’s plea for paracetamol, the apparently accidental compulsion.

“H’hur’s.”

His whole flank was black with the blood pooled beneath his skin and smeared with crimson above and when Tim applied his own crumpled up button down over top of the drenched bundle of gauze Jon cried out, writhing weakly under his punishing hands, eyes rolling wildly under bruised lids.

God. What was the point of being angry with Jon for not being honest, for not reaching out, if this is what happened when he did? If Tim was going to be rough with him, accuse him of being soused when really--

When really he was bleeding to death behind the closed door Tim put him behind so he didn’t have to look at him.

“T…”

“Hey, hey buddy.

“Hur’hurting me…” Slicked with weals of blood, Jon’s thin fingers slipped against Tim’s wrists, no strength to shift him, to stop what was happening, to stop him from hurting him like everybody else had hurt him, even though he was trying to save him. Jon didn’t understand, couldn’t, and he sobbed helplessly, keening cry lancing through Tim like the sharpest spear as yet again he was at the mercy of someone with more power. Catching up his hands, holding both in just one of his own, the hot blood was a painful contrast with Jon’s icy skin.

“Hush, I’m sorry, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, Jon.”

“Nngh…ah!” Tim lifted his hands to his chest, cradled them there in all their scarred roughness and fragility, deadweight and limp.

“Soon now, just stay awake, bud. Stay with me.”

“T’T…” rapid breaths choked him off, left him gasping, fingers spasming in his hold.

Pulled gently away by unfamiliar hands.

Strangers’ voices muffled in his ears.

Jon’s half-lidded dull brown eyes filled with sharp fear.

All so slow Tim wasn’t sure any of it was happening at all until suddenly, a dawning of crystal clarity. Numbers and instructions and bodies, shouting, changing, moving.

Jon begging them to stop, stop--

“Stop hurting him!”

A firm grip pulled him to the side, forced him to look away from the red, red, red rising like a tide in his eyes until he couldn’t see anything else.

“We’re going to help him, but you need to let us.”

“...Y’yeah…”

“Are you coming?”

“Hm?”

“Sir?” Tim took in the sight of Jon’s blood still wet on the tile, the papers and folders in disarray and stained with drops like poppy petals plotting a course of ache and agony he didn’t want to travel.

And then Jon. Strapped down, held in place, fluids being forced into his collapsing veins. Face grey and lined with pain and streaked with red and--

“N’no. No.” The paramedics were already hurrying away. “I’ll. Someone will be there.”

It didn’t deserve to be him.

“Martin.”

“Tim, I swear to god--”

“Martin.”

“--get a hold of yourself for pity’s sake--”

“Martin!”

“What?!” An irritated huff passed over the line. “If this is just--”

“Jon’s in hospital, i’in surgery.” Stony silence run through with the vaguest hum of static fell between them.

“Tim--”

“I. I. I don’t think it was a bread knife.” Tim’s fingers were clenched around his phone so hard he thought it might crack as he kneeled beside the stain Jon left behind. Say nothing of Martin’s implication that this was his fault. That he’d done this to Jon.

But hadn’t he driven him to it?

Hadn’t he driven Jon to keep his pain and terror and sadness and secrets to himself when he turned on him? When he blamed him? When he came to him today, tried to reach for him, to reach for help, and was again denied?

“Tim!”

“M--”

“Where?”

“Wh’happen’...?”

“Jon?” This wasn’t the first time he’d been awake but it was the first time he’d done more than weep with confusion. Perfectly normal, Martin had been assured, between the anesthesia, the medication for pain, the massive internal hemorrhage they’d had to go in and repair, somehow saving his spleen of all things.

“Mmartin?” The effort to speak was dragging him back out to sea with exhaustion, heavy lashes struggling to part under the weight of it and only offering glimpses of glassy brown.

“Shh, go back to sleep.” Gently, Martin brushed back through his curls taking note of the too-cool temperature of his skin and the ink-dark bruises like kohl under his eyes. “It’s alright, I’m right here.”

“I, I…” Somewhere between his protest and a damp sob, Jon dropped off the edge of the precipice and Martin thumbed away the tears lining his cheeks before taking up his hand to resume his attempts at rubbing the warmth back into it.

“You should go home.” Tim was quieter than he’d ever heard him before, still likely cowed from their earlier conversation where the only thing Martin could look at was the copper embedded under his fingernails, smeared across his wrists and gone dark with oxidation. “He’s in good hands.”

“And how would you know that, Tim?” Bitter. Frustrated. Angry. Jon should have been in good hands before. Trusted hands. Hands that may well be spiteful, resentful, but hands that wouldn’t let Jon slip through the cracks regardless.

“I just meant.” Martin wasn’t able to look at him, afraid of what he might say next, afraid that he might physically throw the other man from the room for daring to deny Jon the slightest support.

“Last time I left you with him, he ended up here.”

“That’s--” Voice raised, shouting, and even down deep Jon flinched, arms shifting in an attempt to protect his face. Martin was livid, settling Jon with a few whispered words before turning to confront Tim.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here.”

“I didn’t…” Tim was small, folding into himself and sharp at his corners, bristling and contrite.

“I’ll text you with an update if there is one.”

“I. I’m sorry, Martin.” But he neither needed nor wanted an apology. He wasn’t the one Tim wronged today.

A week later saw Martin helping Jon up the narrow steps to his flat, concerned by his pallor and the trembling in his limbs and when he finally dropped him onto the lumpy sofa, saw that he was sweating.

“I’ll make some tea.” He’d purchased a few essentials to go along with his prescriptions. It wouldn’t do if he made himself ill on an empty stomach. If he listened closely he could just hear Jon’s panting, making certain to bring water along with the mug and a few chocolate digestives to offset the loss of blood still exacerbating his fatigue.

“M’quite alright, Martin.” He had yet to sit up, still laying back among the cushions, one scarred forearm laid above his nose. “Don’have to coddle me.” Martin didn’t rise to his bait, instead ignoring him in favor of sitting beside where his greater weight tipped Jon gently into his side. He didn’t resist, instead embracing his vulnerability and sinking deeper into the warm wool of his jumper with a sullen hum.

“I’m not “coddling” you, Jon.” Steeped to his preferences, Martin pressed the tea into his hands, lingering to be certain he could hold it on his own before tucking a biscuit between his forefinger and the porcelain and then another when he polished it off, probably not thinking about it.

“Have you heard from Tim?” Barely audible over the rim of his mug, Jon kept his eyes downcast and Martin couldn’t see under his long lashes from the angle he was at. He’d asked a few times, understanding his disappointment was aimed at Tim and not at Jon, at least not this time. They’d discussed the incident and Martin got the sense that he wanted no part in a repeat performance though he’d explained his attempt at asking for help was the last time he was cognizant enough to think in a somewhat straight line. After that it was pain and cold and shadow and Tim crushing him into the floor and he didn’t understand.

“Yeah.” Martin sipped on his own tea, encouraged Jon to do the same, but he was a dog with a bone.

“Is he. Uh. Cross? With. With me?” He looked up, tired eyes wide and round. “I mean, more than, than the usual?”

“Jon.”

“I know! I.” Falling silent, Jon nibbled absentmindedly on the last biscuit and accepted the tablets to swallow with the dregs of his tea. He’d be out like a light soon with that painkiller and Martin tugged him up when he hissed through his teeth at the agony of trying to move and caught him when he listed on his feet. Rather than hovering, Martin decided instead to keep an ear out as he put away the groceries and filled a glass of water for his nightstand, meeting Jon back at the sofa where he held a stack of bedding topped with pillows.

“I know.” He swallowed, “you’re here out of, of obligation? Kindness? But. But I’ll be fine on my own--you don’t have to stay.” Martin shook his head, a sad smile spreading over his lips as he relieved Jon of his bundle, longing to pull him into an embrace and relieve him of the invisible burden he carried alone. Compromising, he settled for cupping a slim shoulder, not missing how he melted under the soft touch.

“I’m here because we’re friends, Jon.” Unexpected tears welled in his eyes, spilling over as his staid expression crumpled. “Oh, oh, Jon, come here. It’s alright.” Spent, Jon let his forehead collide with his chest, crying silently, and Martin abandoned the duvet in favor of folding him up. “It’s alright.”

“S’sorry...just.” But he couldn’t get any more words out and Martin ran a hand up and down his taut back, rubbing circles over the sharp blades of his shoulders.

“You don’t have to be.” In a few moments the energy began to ooze out of Jon’s bones, the meds kicking in full force and taking his strength with it. “Okay, time for bed.” With a bit of cautious manhandling, Martin was able to get him tucked in between the sheets, meeting eyes blinking slow like those of a cat. “Comfy?”

“Mmyeah…” slipping out on an exhale and it brought a grin back to Martin’s face to see him so relaxed and more than a little loopy. “Hey Martin?” Graceless, Jon’s clumsy fingers tangled with his. “Thank you.” Cross eyed with the effort of sincerely conveying his gratitude, he spoke earnestly, if marble-mouthed and Martin felt his own cheeks flush hot in the velvet dark. He allowed himself to tuck stray and greying flyaways behind Jon ear before sweeping a thumb over the bone of his cheek and watching him drift under. Martin slipped away, keeping the door open in case something happened, and made up his own bed, listening to Jon’s soft and sleepy sounds.

“Good night, Jon.”

#TMA #the magnus archives #jon sims #tim stoker #martin blackwood #stabbed #hurt comfort #fluff #pining #blood #internal bleeding #crying #tears

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spoon-writes · 3 years

Text

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 24

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse, and soon they travel across the galaxy looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 24 - The Searchers

Sinead stood at the bottom of the ramp, hands on her hips. They were back on another forest planet. Or moon rather, and this one seemed more hostile than the last one. The trees were older and darker, covered in thick moss that swallowed the sounds of nature. The trunks were too wide for her to reach around, and the branches intertwined to make a nearly impenetrable canopy that covered the ground in shadows.

The tracking fob had led them here, to this place.

She let out a deep breath.

Inside the Crest, Mando placed the child on top of the bed. "You gotta stay here. It's too dangerous."

The child let out a sad coo and tried to climb down before Mando grabbed him and put him back.

"You can't come. I'm sorry."

Sinead smiled for the first time since they left the mining station. Mando still seemed ... hesitant around the kid sometimes, like something was stopping him from fully committing.

At last, Mando appeared at the top of the ramp. "According to the tracking fob, it's close by."

"Great." The forest swallowed the sound, making her voice sound faint and weedy.

"You can stay with the kid. I can do this myself." Mando pressed a command into the device on his vambrace and the ramp went up.

"You've already done enough heavy lifting, it's time I earn my keep, don't you think?" Plus, she'd rather not do a repeat of what happened on Zessol; somehow, the deep forest felt more dangerous than a city populated by pirates and other miscreants.

He wanted to say something more, she knew it; the way his head tilted slightly to the side made her feel exposed, vulnerable, and she turned away before he had the chance. "Where are we going?"

There was a long pause, and she could feel Mando's eyes on her back.

"This way."

She followed him away from the ship and into the overgrown forest. The ground was spongy, moisture seeping up around her feet when she stepped on the moss that carpeted everything. The way every surface was some shade of green messed with her depth perception. If it hadn't been for Mando, she would've gotten lost minutes after losing sight of the ship.

She took a deep breath of the still air, tasting the decomposing leaves on her tongue.

"You miss it?"

Mando was quiet for a moment. "Miss what?"

"Doing this. Bounty hunting."

Seconds ticked by while he thought. "It's the only thing I've ever known."

That wasn't an answer, but in a way, she was grateful that he didn't elaborate. She wouldn't have believed him if he said no, but she didn't know what to do if he said yes.

The forest grew deeper and darker as they went, fed by their silence. Now and again, a rustle went through the treetops, or one of them would become stuck in the peaty ground and have to pull their foot out with a wet squelch.

"It's kinda ironic, isn't it," Sinead said when the silence became too much. "A former slave now turned bounty hunter."

Mando rounded on her, and she took a step back, nearly tripping over a root hidden under the moss. "This isn't the same. You're only doing this to find Kyen."

That did nothing to quell the tight feeling in her chest, but she managed to force a smile. "Thanks."

They stared at each other, standing in the twilight under the trees. A shiver ran up Sinead's back.

Suddenly, a fast beeping broke the tension like a rock through an icy lake, and Mando pulled out the tracking fob.

"It's close?" Her voice sounded shrill.

"About one klick east."

"Then let's go."

After a small climb, the ground plummeted into an overgrown dell. One wrong step from a careless wanderer and they would tumble down the steep side and disappear into the foliage.

"You see a way down?" Mando silenced the screaming tracking fob.

"Not one that won't result in a broken neck." She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes; she wanted to get rid of this lingering unease that made her skin itch.

Eventually, they found a faint path snaking between the trees, which led through a thicket and into the dell. The forest seemed less dense in there, and for the first time since stepping in between the trees, Sinead got an uninterrupted look at the sky.

At the bottom of the dell, the forest opened into a clearing, with a farmhouse and a dilapidated barn that was only standing due to sheer stubbornness. Behind that, there was an empty pasture. Once upon a time, someone had painted the house white, but now it had faded into a dull grey.

"You sure this is the right spot?" Sinead whispered, eyes scanning the area. "It looks abandoned."

"Be on your guard." Mando drew his blaster.

"How do you wanna do this?" Sinead asked.

"Careful. Find out where he is."

Mando reached the steps that led to the front door when a thump sounded from the barn.

"Mando-"

"I heard it. Stay behind me."

He crept towards the barn, placing his feet deliberately on patches of moss that hid his footsteps.

The was another thump, and a shadow moved behind a crack in the small door set into the side. The tall double doors looked like they had been welded together with rust.

Sinead held her breath as Mando reached the door. He looked back at her, holding up three fingers.

One.

Two.

Three.

With a hard kick, the door came apart in an explosion of splinters.

A young human girl tumbled back with a scream.

"Oh, shit!" Mando froze halfway through the door.

Sinead was the first to snap out of it, and she pushed past Mando while shoving her blaster back into its holster. "I'm so sorry! We didn't know you were in here."

The girl scrambled to her feet, wide eyes glued to Mando. Her scruffy overalls were at least three sizes too big, and it looked like someone had taken a dull scissor to her hair, leaving it uneven and frizzled. Still, there was a determined spark glinting under her fear.

Sinead crouched down to her level. "Are you here all alone? Are there any adults around?"

The girl's eyes flickered from Sinead to Mando. Then she took a deep breath.

And screamed.

It was like a siren going off right by Sinead's head. She slapped her hands over her ears, but the explosion of sound was an icepick through her eardrums.

At last, the girl ran out of air and her scream tapered off, leaving a thunderous silence. A hand grabbed Sinead's shoulder and pulled her to her feet.

"What was-"

The door to the farmhouse exploded open, and a human shot out, a raised rifle in his hands.

Sinead didn't have time to react. Mando shoved her behind him and leveled his blaster at the human.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" he screamed, voice shaking.

The little girl darted around Mando and Sinead and ran up the stairs to hide behind the man, wrapping her arms around his leg.

"We're not here for your family," Mando yelled.

"I want you gone. Now!"

"We're looking for someone. A Twi'lek-"

"There's no one here but us! Leave, please!" He had a distinct Core World accent.

A young Togruta boy, clenching a blaster in his hands, appeared in the doorway. His lekku only reached his shoulders, and even though he was as tall as the human, it looked like someone had grabbed him by the feet and montrals and pulled, leaving him lanky and awkward.

The tip of the rifle wavered in the air before the human blinked hard and held it steady. "Take your sister and get back in the house."

"Wh-what's going on? Who are they?" The young Togruta squared his shoulders but his hands shook as he lifted the blaster.

"No questions. Just go!"

Sinead's eyes widened. A cold barrel pressed into the small of her back, and her blaster slipped from her fingers. She slowly raised her hands.

"Put down your blaster," a sharp voice sounded behind her ear. "Or I'll sever her spine."

It seemed like Jami had found them before they found him.

Mando turned with lightning speed, but Jami was quicker, grabbing Sinead by the shoulder and pulling her out of reach.

"Don't try me! I'm serious! And step back!"

Sinead felt her eyes meet Mando's through the helmet and gave an imperceptible nod. Blood rushed in her ears.

Mando's hand tightened around the blaster for a moment before it thudded to the ground, but he didn't step back, didn't try to keep the human in his field of vision.

"Kick it away."

Mando did so, his entire body tensed like a spring ready for release.

"Laar," Jami said, raising his voice, "take the children inside and stay there."

Sinead could see the human - Laar - over Mando's shoulder. He nodded tightly and grabbed the little girl before bodily pushing the Togruta back into the house. Sinead felt a warm exhale on the back of her neck when the door banged shut.

"Vekkass sent you, didn't he?" Jami pressed the blaster harder into her back, and she winced. One shot and no amount of bacta would fuse her spine back together. Best case scenario she would be paralyzed for the rest of her life.

"Let her go." Mando's voice dipped into a growl.

"I just want to be left alone, do you understand? Whatever he thinks I stole, I don't have it." Jami started to back up, dragging Sinead further into the barn and out of sight of the house.

She wet her lips. "Let me go, and we can talk about this."

Jami dug his fingers into her shoulder where the Trandoshan bounty hunter had shot her years ago, and an echo of old pain shot down her arm. "I don't want to talk. I want you to leave."

A crash from the farmhouse made him start, and the pressure on her back disappeared for a second, but it was enough. Sinead brought down her heel on his foot and twisted out of his grasp. The blaster went off, the bolt hitting Mando's armor with a ping.

Mando pounced and ripped the blaster out of the Twi'lek's hand, kicking his legs out from under him. Jami fell back with a yell, and as he tried getting to his feet, Mando kicked him back down.

"Stay."

Sinead snatched the nearest blaster from the ground. The spot on her lower back prickled like the blaster was still there.

Jami stared up at them,red-rimmed eyes burning with anger. His blue skin stood out from his clothes that were all a dull brown or grey, speckled with dirt and dust, his cheeks hollow like he hadn't eaten in a very long time. He didn't particularly look like a pirate. "If you're gonna kill me, do it now. Just don't hurt my family, please. Don't let them see my body." He closed his eyes.

Oh, shit.

Sinead looked at Mando, trying to gauge what he wanted to do, but the helmet remained frustratingly blank, and the seconds ticked by. Usually, she could at least read something from his body language alone, but now he was betraying nothing. The thought of dragging him back to Vekkass hadn't sat well with her before, and now it felt like her body might revolt against itself if she tried.

When nothing happened, Jami opened his eyes.

"Get up," Mando ordered and took a step back, his blaster following the Twi'lek as he scrambled to his feet, lips curled over sharp teeth.

The barn creaked in the stillness. Stalls lined the walls on both sides of the big double doors, but it was clear that they'd been empty for a long time; clumps of grey straw and fossilized dung piled up on the floor. A keedee had made a nest in the rafters and was watching the situation with a disapproving glare.

"So." Jami's tongue darted out to lick his dry lips. "What happens now?"

That was a good question.

Sinead gestured over her shoulder at the house. "Is that why you left?"

Jami pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Okay." She pressed her free hand to her temple. "Where's the loot?"

Silence.

"If you don't talk, I can go-" she took a step back in the direction of the house.

"No!" Fear flashed across his face. "Keep them out of this."

Mando adjusted his grip on the blaster. "Then talk."

Jami took a shuddering breath. "I ... look, there isn't any loot."

"You mean you sold it?" Sinead said.

"I mean, there never was any loot at all."

"Explain."

His mouth moved silently as he thought and a vein popped out near his temple. Then, "Vekkass sent us out to ambush a freighter on the Triellus Trade Route, running spice from Dubrava to Nal Hutta. It would've been a suicide mission even if the Hutts hadn't been involved-" he paused, tensing up until the cords stood out on his neck- "but Vekkass didn't care. Made us go anyway. I couldn't ... I wouldn't go to my death just to please some boc'ara." He spat on the ground between them.

"Vekkass thinks you absconded with the loot."

"Of course he does. Can't fathom anyone doing anything if it's not about the money. They sent me out to die in the name of a couple of creds. How did you find me?"

"Someone saw you on Trillu."

Jami bared a row of sharp teeth. "Frang! I knew it was a bad idea …"

"What's the story with them, then?" She nodded towards the house. The earthy smell of mold and old hay tickled her nose.

"They have nothing to do with this."

"I know."

He sighed. "I met Laar shortly after I left. We ... I wasn't the only one running from something. We decided it would be safer to stay together, at least for a while." His voice softened as he spoke, and his face transformed into something more gentle for a second before morphing back into a venomous mask.

Shit.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek and watched him intently, trying to gauge his sincerity. Fear and anger radiated from him, but he seemed genuine enough. "Why even throw in with Vekkass' crew if you hated it so much? He didn't exactly seem like the deceitful type. What you see is what you get."

"I had no choice."

"We all have a choice." She felt the burn as his eyes met hers.

Jami scoffed. "Vekkass ... If you asked him, he'd say he rescued me from the spice pits on Nimbal."

Sudden cold hit her core as realization struck; she knew of Nimbal, had seen slave transports stop on Sriluur on their way to the planet. "And what would you say?"

Jami bit his tongue and looked away. "I'm not kidding myself. The only reason he kept me around was because I knew my way around a blaster, and the second I stopped being useful, he'd put a bolt through my brain. I did what I had to to survive. I don't expect you to understand."

It felt like a punch to the gut. She had nearly dragged a runaway slave back to his former master. This was all so wrong.

Jami's eyes roved across her face. "Look, I don't … I know I have nothing to bargain with, and you have no reason to help me, but please, I'm begging you ..."

"Go." It took a second before Sinead realized the word had come from her. "Just … go back into the house." She felt Mando's eyes fall on her.

"What do you-" Jami eyed Mando's blaster still aiming directly at him. "You're letting me go?"

Her mouth worked while her brain spun to come up with an answer. "I don't… I don't know."

Slowly, Mando lowered his blaster and nodded once towards the house.

Jami took a step towards the house, pausing for a moment before breaking into a run. The door to the farmhouse banged close behind him, and Sinead closed her eyes. It stung like she had been straining to see for too long.

"What do you want to do?"

She kept her eyes closed. "You're asking me?"

"It's your decision."

She finally turned to look at him; he was watching her intently, head cocked to the side. "We can't drag him back to Vekkass. Hunting a pirate is one thing, but I will not be a slave catcher."

Mando looked at the farmhouse. "He could be lying."

"I don't think he is." She couldn't explain why, but there was something about him that reminded her crushingly about herself. "In any case, I'm sure he's telling the truth about the loot. Look at this place." She spread her arms wide to encompass the barn. "Pure spice from Dubrava will net you more than a rundown farm on some backwater planet. More security, too." She bit her lower lip hard enough to break the skin. "Let's just go back to the ship. I'm sure the kid misses us."

Mando's voice modulator rustled as he sighed. "He'll run."

"Then I guess the decision's been made for us."

Mando shook his head, staring back at the house for a moment as he holstered his blaster. "C'mon, then."

Sinead stopped as they reached the edge of the clearing and looked back. The farmhouse sat cold and dead, a strange grey box amidst the vivid green of the forest. She wondered where they'd go. Then, stepping between the trees, the forest closed around her like a wall.

Mando led the way out of the dell and through the forest. She stared at the fabric of his cloak until her vision filled with grey. With every sodden step, she got further and further away from Kyen, but what was the alternative? How much was she willing to sacrifice to find him?

"What would you have done?"

Mando turned at the sound of her voice, nearly hidden in the perpetual dusk trapped under the canopy. "Does it matter?"

"Just answer the question, please."

His hands flexed in annoyance. "Sinead, I don't ... I don't know. My hunts don't usually end like this. Vekkass is the best lead we have."

Sinead looked down at the water slowly rising around her feet. "We should've just bonked him on the head before he had a chance to talk."

"You wouldn't have wanted that."

Her eyes met his through the helmet, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Suddenly, the forest seemed so quiet. "No. I wouldn't."

A noise echoed through the forest, and Mando drew his blaster, gestured at her to get down.

"Doesn’t sound like an animal.” Sinead hissed.

“It wasn’t.”

Mando retook the lead, moving slowly between the trees, keeping low to the ground. Another sound echoed through the forest closer and louder than before. Mando crouched down behind a fallen tree and signaled her to stop. She sidled up next to him and peeked her head over the moss-covered trunk.

A gunship stood in a small clearing, the metal body nearly black with carbon scoring. Seven sentients filed out of the open side. A Duros tested the springy moss with a foot before stepping out on a tussock. "What a hell-hole." He spied into the darkness with narrowed eyes, and Sinead and Mando ducked down behind the tree. "Who in their right mind would willingly live here?"

“Who in their right mind would steal from Vekkass?" Another voice rang out, to an immediate reprimand from the Duros.

"Not so loud, you idiot!"

Sinead closed her eyes and fought the urge to bang her head against a tree. As if the day hadn't been hard enough already.

"What about the others?"

"We'll go on without them," the Duros said. "Heard from Lenk they've found the ship. They'll try to break through, see if the Mando’s got any neat toys."

Cold fingers of dread closed around Sinead's throat.

"It's fine. S'not like we need 'em."

"What about the Mandalorian?"

"They don't know we're coming. If they've already killed Jami, then one less energy bolt needed, right. Vekkass said he doesn't care about the woman, but he wants the armor. Was a stroke of brilliance, it was, leaving them to do all the heavy lifting.”

Sinead's hand shot out to grab Mando's shoulder a second before he launched himself over the fallen tree; fighting seven pirates would take too long. She stabbed a finger in the direction of the Razor Crest and mouthed for him to go. He looked back towards the pirates and his shoulder tensed under her hand before he nodded once, and she let her hand fall to her side.

Mando disappeared in the direction of the ship while she slunk back the way they came. Once she was out of earshot, she broke into a dead sprint. The forest turned into a green blur as she jumped from rock to tussock to avoid getting caught in the boggy ground. Lungs burned with every breath, and her ears filled with the sound of her own heartbeat.

She bulleted through the thicket that hid the entrance to the dell, ignoring the sting as branches snagged on her clothes and hair. The farmhouse looked small and lifeless. Maybe Jami and his family had already left. She took the steps up to the door in one jump and crashed into the house, the door bouncing off the wall. She found herself in a small kitchen barely big enough to fit a table and four chairs.

Something smashed on the ground.

Jami flew up from a chair, the rifle held in a white-knuckled grip.

"Wait!" She held up her hands. "Don't shoot!"

"What do you want?" Jami's voice shook with every word.

"Vekkass' men ... in the forest ..." a stabbing pain accompanied every word.

"What?"

"I swear they're not with us ..." she rubbed her ribs, making Laar start and reach for a blaster. "They must've followed us from the base. They know you're here." She looked over her shoulder at the wall of green—no sign of them.

"If this is a trick-"

"It's not. Do you have any defenses?"

Laar lifted a shaking hand and pushed his bangs out of his eyes. "N-no. We thought we were safe."

"We were," Jami hissed and pushed his chair away with such force it clattered to the ground. "Until you showed up."

"We don't have time for-" a deep whooshing sound filled the air as something passed overhead. Sinead’s heart skipped a beat as she ran out and looked; the Razor Crest made a turn above the barn, the wind from the turbine flattening the grass and made her braid whip around her head, and it landed heavily on in the muddy pasture.

Sinead was climbing over the fence when the ramp came down, revealing Mando with a pronged rifle in his hands, the kid by his side with one little hand wrapped around the frame of the entrance.

A shout cut through the air, "what's going on?"

Sinead whirled around to see the Togruta boy running outside, the little girl attached to his leg.

"Take Elia back inside," Jami yelled, just as a blaster bolt struck the side of the ship, and all hell broke loose. The first pirate burst into the clearing.

Elia screamed as Jami grabbed her and threw her back into the house, the Togruta following close behind. Sinead jumped behind an empty watering trough just as another bolt whizzed over her head.

Shots rained through the air as more pirates appeared between the trees surrounding the farm. Sinead rolled to avoid getting hit, found her feet and ran to the ship. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a human woman take aim.

Mando ran out of the ship, vaulting over the fence in one smooth motion and sliding behind the remains of the barn door. He fired his rifle, the bolt hitting the human in the chest who disappeared in a cloud of smoldering ash; the stench of plasma and burnt flesh filled the air.

A large Twi’lek rounded the corner of the farmhouse directly behind Jami, who was crouched behind a water-barrel, doing his best to keep the pirates away from the front door. Without stopping, Sinead took aim and fired.

Suddenly, the wind was knocked out of her and she hit the ground with a dull thud. The Duros stood over her; a broad-brimmed hat cast a deep shadow across his face. Her eyes focused on the blaster trained directly at her head.

Sounds of the battle faded out as she stared into the hollow point of the blaster.

The Duros’ face froze in a grin, the blaster tumbled from his hand that stayed outstretched in an awkward position. He made a weak gurgling sound, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Sinead blindly grasped around for her dropped blaster, hands sinking into the soft earth.

Sinead’s ears popped as the Duros was lifted into the air by an invisible string. Whatever force had frozen him in place disappeared, and he thrashed, clawed at her as she got to her feet and looked around.

The child stood at the top of the ramp, tiny hands lifted into the air, wrinkled face contorted in concentration. His body shook like every muscle was tensed, and there was a slight pull on the world she had never felt before.

A bolt shot past her, hitting the pirate in the chest and his body collapsing into ash with a whoomph of sudden vacuum.

The kid slumped to the ground.

She got up on shaky legs. The sound of fighting faded into nothing.

A blaster bolt struck the ramp just below the child, and a current of electricity shocked her into motion; she sprinted towards the ship and scooped the kid into her arms just as another bolt grazed her leg, leaving a burnt strip of flesh across her calf. Then, they were safe inside the ship.

The kid felt weightless in her arms. He stared up at her with heavy-lidded eyes and curled a small hand around a strand of hair which had come loose from her braid.

“Sinead?” Mando stood in the opening, the strange pronged rifle clutched in one hand. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Mando left the rifle leaning against the wall and pulled the kid out of her arms.

“Wh-what was that?” Her tongue felt thick and unwieldy.

Raised voices cut through his reply, and Sinead moved numbly to the opening; Jami and Laar were in the middle of an argument, heading towards the ship. When they stopped at the bottom of ramp, Laar pointedly didn’t meet her eyes.

"Well, thanks to you, I guess Vekkass knows we're here,” Jami said between clenched teeth.

"He would've found you eventually." Mando reached inside a pouch on his belt and produced the tracking fob that went into a wild staccato beeping. "He has your chain-code. He was about to send someone else when we got there."

"And you decided to take the job."

Sinead swallowed. "He has something I need.

"And what is that?"

"I'm ... I'm looking for someone. Vekkass knew him."

Jami's eyebrows shot up. "From his crew?"

"No. This was before." She didn't know why she couldn't just tell him the truth; if anyone understood it, it would probably be him.

"What are you gonna do now? I doubt he'll welcome you back with open arms."

"You can't stay here. It's only a matter of time before he sends other bounty hunters after you," Mando said.

It dawned on Sinead what he was trying to do. "And they won't be as forgiving as us."

She watched a lot of complicated emotions flicker across Jami's face. "I know." He gave Laar a pointed look. "Unless we take the fight to Vekkass, he'll never leave us alone."

It was like Laar suddenly came back to the moment; he threw his hands into the air with a yell. "Going after him is suicide!"

"Staying here isn’t any better! You want to just keep your head down, hope that he forgets about us?" Jami swung round to face Laar, his lekku twitching with agitation.

"I want us to run!"

"I'm done with running."

Sinead looked away as an embarrassed flush crawled across her cheeks. She wished they would’ve had their argument in private.

Mando cleared his throat, and both men stopped mid yell; Laar looked like he had forgotten that they were even there.

Jami stepped back and pressed a hand to his temple. "You need Vekkass alive. I need him dead. If you help me with this, then I'll do whatever I can to help you find who you're looking for."

The sun glinted on Mando's armor as he leaned on one leg and shifted the kid further up his arm. "You know how we can get inside the station?"

"I’ve got a plan."

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x oc #mando x oc #din x oc #din djarin x oc #din djarin #fanfiction #ends of the earth #oc: Sinead

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eat0crow · 4 years

Note

Jasonette first meeting please?

I’ve written a couple Jasonette first meetings already but I was scrolling through a prompt list and -You just snuck into my apartment and wait is that blood-stuck out to me. Hope you enjoy!

This fic was beta-read by the lovely @the17thtearoom

Is That Blood

Kwami knows that Marinette is a scatter-brained mess no matter what time of day it is. She would like to deny it, but really, no one would believe her. She blames Tikki, even if she was a disaster before the little fortune god came into her life. Nino has the proof, and has justly been sworn to silence.

There is never a need to relive the fourth grade. Never.

There’s a general swirl of chaos that follows Marinette wherever she goes: Paris, London, New York, now Gotham. It’s one of the reasons, maybe even the reason that despite desperately needing someone around to help out with the rent—Gotham charged way too much for a studio apartment, how the hell is it more expensive than Manhattan—she’s never looked for a roommate. Not after spending a month bunking with Alya, and driving the girl insane.

Alya hadn’t been the one to ask her to leave, she’d claimed Marinette was fine. Marinette had seen the way her eye twitched after the fourth time, in a week's span, she had come home tracking some dark, vaguely sticky substance behind her.

For the sake of their friendship, Marinette had moved out a little over a week later.

With this in mind, Marinette thinks she’s being overwhelmingly okay with the situation when her first question, upon stepping foot back into her apartment, happens to be, “Is that blood?”

Not, “how did you get in here”, or “who are you?” Is that blood? When did her life get this weird? Oh yeah, when she—a newly turned fourteen-year-old girl—was entrusted with guardianship over some of the most powerful deities in creation. That’s when.

It’s only after watching the man for an uncomfortable amount of time that Marinette notices the sickly crackling of unnatural magic clinging to the air around him. There’s a pool of dark magic sitting in her living room. It’s coating him, clinging to his very being and dripping, toxic, onto the pale beige carpeting.

God the carpeting, blood stains are a bitch to get out. At least he had the sense to push back the coffee table, and not sit on the couch that Marinette’s fairly sure, has been in this apartment since before she was born.

The stranger pauses his stitching mid-action, needle freezing halfway through the gash on his leg. Marinette is concerned.

“No, it’s cranberry juice,” he says sarcastically, even as he presses a towel, her pink bunny towel no less, against his leg. It’s clearly an attempt to hide the murder scene she just walked in on, but honestly, the towel is turning a disgusting shade of rusty brown.

Marinette takes one fortifying look around her living room, paying particular attention to the sticky wet spot her home invader is sitting in. He had better not have touched her one true love. If the coffee maker is broken she will break him.

“You should finish stitching that up before you bleed to death all over my carpet.”

“I’m not going to bleed out in the middle of your living room.”

Marinette grabs her emergency first aid kit, the one she keeps tucked safely in the umbrella stand. It’s a beast, and maybe Marinette had been a little obsessive when it came to putting it together, but she had spent a good portion of her life fighting. She liked to be prepared, even if being prepared meant carrying around a walking pharmacy.

Delicately, Marinette did her best to avoid mashing the blood further into the carpet. “I have a tourniquet in here just in case, but it doesn’t look like we need it. You did remember to disinfect the cut before you started stitching, right?”

She’s close enough now, knelt next to the man, to really make out his features. The pressure she forces down on the wound makes him wince, and Marinette blinks. Green eyes, there’s an aura to them that reminds Marinette distinctly of Tikki’s magic, a faint light just barely visible—Lazarus light. Well, that explained the corruption clinging to the air.

“I didn’t think you would be too thrilled with me poking around your bathroom,” he hisses out, sharp and very clearly in pain.

Marinette would usually let a lie like that go, but her patience is getting dangerously thin. “You could have spent another minute grabbing the peroxide from the medicine cabinet. It’s not like I can’t see your bloody footprints marking your trail. You grabbed my favorite towel, but not the one thing that prevents a staph infection. Who taught you first aid? Honestly! ”

A dark brow raises upward, clear interest taking over the strangers face. “You’re remarkably calm for someone who just found a random stranger dripping blood all over their apartment.”

“I’m more than a little pissed over that. You owe me a carpet cleaning.” Marinette grabs the travel-sized bottle of peroxide out of her kit, along with her sterilized needle, lighter, actual stitching thread—why the fuck is he using dental floss? Why?—and a roll of gauze. She’ll probably need more later, but for now, this is good. “You’re giving yourself way too much credit. This isn’t even close to the strangest thing I’ve seen this week. Now, this is going to sting like a bitch, but you broke into my apartment so, you deserve it.”

He lets out a long string of curses, biting down hard on his hand as Marinette pours the disinfectant over the wound. It’s a good three inches long and at least a centimeter deep. He needs a hospital but, seeing as his first choice was breaking and entering, Marinette’s probably as close to a professional as he’ll see.

“Fucking shit,” he grounds out around clenched teeth. Marinette has to take out the stitches he’s already done. They’re uneven and sloppy, probably because he’d been using the needle from her sewing kit. She slips her surgical scissors, the fresh pair she just held under her lighter, against the floss. His face loses all color as she carefully works the four rows he made out. “I know you’re pissed, but I don’t deserve this.”

Marinette casts him her most deadpan expression as she lights the curved stitching needle on fire. “Who's the dumbass who didn’t disinfect his—what? Stab wound? It looks like a stab wound, do you have any idea where that knife could have been? You’re lucky I’m nice enough not to let you get a blood infection.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Nice enough. You’re a regular ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who broke in.” Marinette takes satisfaction in stabbing her needle into the skin and watching as his smirk turns into a grimace. “How did you get in here anyway? The front door was still locked.”

“I kicked in the back door,” he admits, with just the faintest hint of shame. “It was hanging on by a bolt and a decades worth of rust.”

“You’re lucky you’re already bleeding.”

“I was in a hurry, okay,” he says defensively. “My friend lives in the same apartment number one complex over. I apparently was off a bit with my directions. I promise, I don't usually break into random people’s homes.”

“Guess I’m just special then.” Marinette has to hide her smile by occupying herself with cleaning up. She’s angry at him, damn it!

“I’ll fix the door for you if you want? And I’ll pay for one of those rug doctors Walmart rents.” He carefully stretches out his leg. He’s a bit unsteady on his feet. A mix between pain and blood loss no doubt. Wordlessly she offers up a bottle of Tylenol.

She regrets handing it to him a nanosecond later when he takes a double dose and then, throws back a third for good measure.

“Oh, you’re going to be paying my cleaning bill all right, but the door can wait,” Marinette says, getting up, and heading over to her kitchen. There is no problem in the world food doesn’t make better. “You look like you could really use some breakfast, and I’ve had nowhere near my daily dose of caffeine. We can figure everything out after we’ve eaten.”

The man follows her over, leaning heavily against the wall to support his weight. It’s a sorry sight. He makes an aborted move to help her before deciding that nope, he really can’t stand for all that long. “Did I tell you how weird you are yet? I feel like I should have.”

“Would you rather I call the cops and kick you out?” Marinette asks, pushing the coffee maker to the very edge of the counter. He can reach it if he tries. Marinette fully plans to make him. With a bit more force than necessary, she slams down her jar of coffee mix. “Clearly you’re lucid enough to make some coffee while I fry up some eggs.”

There’s a spark of amusement in the stranger's eyes. His smirk is back, and he watches Marinette with something like glee. “Sure thing, firefly.”

“It’s Marinette,” she corrects, not bothering to turn away from the stove. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’d say it’s nice to meet you but...you did break into my house.”

“That’s fair,” the stranger agrees. Reaching for her phone instead of the stack of coffee filters. The bastard, doesn’t he realize how thin her sanity is stretching? “Jason Todd. You mind if I use your phone for a minute. Roy can stop by Home Depot, and get you a new door. So we won’t be reinstalling something that was already on its last legs.”

Marinette feels a headache coming on. “I’ll make enough for three then. Just have him pick up some kind of cleaner so the stain doesn’t set in.”

#maribat #jasonette #crow writes #prompt fills #jason todd #marinette dupain cheng

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myarmsaretoolong · 4 years

Text

In the Hands of the Enemy

Prompt #2: In the Hands of the Enemy - “Pick Who Dies” | Kidnapping

Word Count: 2601

Warnings: Major Character Death | Blood | Gun Violence

Synopsis: Tony receives the call no surrogate father wants to hear, Peter’s missing. His captor delivers the be-all and end-all of ultimatums. It’s you, or the Spider.

Read Under the Cut | Read on AO3

Tony looked up from his work when his phone buzzed; he picked it up in his free hand to check the caller ID. ‘Forehead of Security.’ He chuckled and tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear so he could return to tweaking Peter’s new web-shooters. It was the kids sixteenth birthday in a few days, and Tony wanted to surprise him with a little upgrade.

“Hey, Hap. What can I do for you?”

“I don’t suppose Peter’s with you, is he?”

Tony shook his head lightly, “Don’t mess with me, Harold. It’s Friday. You pick him up on Fridays.”

“I’m not messing.”

The screwdriver dropped from Tony’s hand, and it hit the metal workbench with a loud clang. His eyes darted to the clock on the wall. They should’ve been here by now. Tony’s voice was low when he spoke. “What are you saying, exactly?”

“The kid just never turned up. He texts when he’s going to be late, you know he’s always texting. I’ve heard nothing since he left school.”

Tony shot to his feet and started pacing around the lab, working out some of his nervous energy. “That doesn’t necessarily mean… Does it?”

There was a pause; it spoke more than words could. “I’d agree with you if it were anyone other than Peter.”

“Shit.” Tony raked a hand through his hair and bolted from the lab. “Can you search around? Check his usual patrol routes. See if there’s anything to give us a clue where he is.”

“Of course. And Tony, don’t worry, we’ll find him.” With that, Happy hung up.

Don’t worry, Tony thought, racing towards Rhodey’s room - the only other one currently occupied, damn Rogue Avengers - it’s a little late for that. His mind ran through a hundred possibilities, the kid bleeding out down some dark alleyway, tied up and thrown in the Hudson…

“Tony? What is it?” Rhodey rose from his desk, concerned eyes seeking Tony’s face for answers. Tony didn’t even remember opening the door.

“The kid,” he choked out, “Peter, he didn’t show-”

Rhodey crossed the room in three swift strides. One hand clasped on Tony’s shoulder, the other held up Tony’s chin and forced him to look Rhodey in the eye. “Let’s go find him then,” he said calmly. “What’s his last known location?” Carefully, Rhodey steered Tony out of the doorway and towards the armoury where they kept their suits.

“Uh,” Tony dragged his hand over his face and took a moment to think. “He sent me a selfie from the top of the Unisphere in Flushing. Must have been close to an hour ago.”

“We’ll start there.”

“Wait,” Tony stopped, one hand gripping Rhodey’s sleeve and halting him halfway across the lounge. “I can’t ask you to- I mean, you haven’t flown since-” Since I let you fall.

“I know, but the kid needs us.” Rhodey could read Tony like a book; he’d always been able to. It was probably the reason they became friends. He saw through the cocky, playboy exterior to find the guilt and dread inside. “This isn’t like that, okay. Listen to me, Tones, we’re going to save him.”

Tony nodded, steeling his nerve as best he could. “You’re right-”

“Boss, I-I’m afraid my protocols are getting overridden-”

“Friday?” Tony looked to the ceiling as if it made a difference. “Fri, what’s happening? Talk to me.”

Silence.

Rhodey and Tony shared a glance. “This isn’t a coincidence,” Rhodey muttered.

“Correct.”

Tony flinched from the emotionless, almost clinical voice reverberating over Friday’s speakers. Rhodey remained as stoic as ever, Tony, however, knew it was an act.

“Let me cut to the chase. I have your little Spider, I’d love to say he’s here and unharmed… but he’s a struggler. Choices had to be made. Consequences…” Whoever it was stretched out the final word, the kid would’ve made some sort of reference to Severus Snape. It sent a shiver down Tony’s spine.

Rhodey took charge, lifting his chin and straightening his back. “Where is he.”

“Safe, for now. So long as you all behave. Follow my demands.”

Tony stepped forward, about to speak, but Rhodey silenced him with the wave of an arm. “You can’t go making demands without proof of life. Let us speak to him.”

“Oh, I’m afraid speaking is out of the question.” There was a momentary pause before one of the holo-screens on the wall flickered into life. Tony clutched the back of the sofa so hard his knuckles turned white.

“You let him go,” he snarled. On the screen, Peter grappled against the restraints holding him to a metal chair. Muted sounds came from the brown, cloth bag masking his face, his usually blue Midtown Tech hoodie stain a horrific, dark red colour. Metal chains coiled around his wrists, securing them to the arms of the chair, the same around his ankles.

“I don’t think so, not yet…” A figure strolled into view, wearing a long black jacket with the sleeves folded halfway up their arms. They hadn’t made even the slightest attempt to hide their face. “Maybe we can have a little fun, first.” They ripped the hood from Peter’s head, the kid looked around wildly, still fighting his bonds.

“Peter, kid, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Peter found the camera, eyebrows knitted together. “Mister Stark?” For the first time, Tony got a good view of Peter’s face. His eyes were wide and fearful, a gag stuffed in his mouth. Blood drained from a deep gash above his left eye, a dark, purple bruise on his right cheekbone stuck out against his unusually pale skin.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s me. I’m going to come and find you, just hold on. Hold on for me.”

The figure moved to block Tony’s view of Peter, a twisted half-smile on their face. “As you can see, alive. Now I make my demands.” Tony wanted nothing more than to dive through the screen and hug Peter in his arms. He clenched his jaw, fingers digging into the fabric of the sofa. “It’s simple. You, or the Spider. One will live, the other will die. The decision lies entirely in your hands.”

“What do you mean?” Tony spat, fear gnawing away at him from the inside out. “Me, I pick me. I die, leave the kid alone.” The muffled screams from Peter doubled, as did the sound of metal hitting metal.

The captor continued as if Tony hadn’t spoken. “You have one hour, plenty of time to make it here. I trust you’ve already tracked my location.” It was true, Friday’s protocol was to trace any and every communication made with the facility. “If you’re here, you’ve chosen for the Spider to live. If not, he dies.”

“How can I trust you? How do I know you won’t kill us both regardless?”

“I’ll give you my name. Listen up, now, little Spider. You’ll want to remember this.” Peter stopped struggling. “Avery Remington, do with that what you will. One hour, alone, no suit. Else it’s goodbye Spider.”

Tony swallowed. “You’re on.”

The feed turned to static, Friday turned it off and filled the room with a deafening silence.

“Tony?”

“Don’t,” Tony couldn’t face looking at Rhodey, he kept his back turned. “Don’t try and talk me out of this. That’s my kid, and I’d do anything-”

“I know.” Rhodey’s voice cracked. “Let me come with you. I’ll keep my distance. Peter’s going to need someone to bring him home.”

“Look after him for me. He has a habit of patrolling instead of doing his homework, so make sure he doesn’t let it pile up. Don’t let him blame himself. And-” Tony sucked in a sharp breath. “God, Pep… Tell her I never stopped loving her, I’m sorry for everything.” Tony didn’t wait for a reply, he ran to the armoury with Rhodey on his heels and jumped into the first suit he saw. Friday already had the flight plan set.

Tony’s mind wandered as his thrusters burned at full power, bringing back memories of Peter. Watching those YouTube videos, he hadn’t realised Peter was only a kid, that only came when he stepped foot in May’s apartment - Ross’ ultimatum hadn’t left time for a full background check.

When you can do the things I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen… They happen because of you.

That hug after they got back from Germany, Tony wished that hadn’t been the only time, that he hadn’t pushed Peter away, hadn’t thrown up boundaries like Oprah handed out cars. He thought he’d have all the time in the world to mentor the kid, help him grow into the hero Tony saw him to be. It turned out he barely had months.

He hoped the kid wouldn’t blame him for that when he was gone.

“Tones, we should land here. No suit, remember?”

Tony said nothing, but followed the instruction, landing heavily at the edge of a forest. Friday’s flight plan led them to a small wooden shack, barely able to hold itself up anymore. They were barely fifteen minutes from the Avengers Facility, fifteen minutes. All of this happening right under Tony’s nose, if only he’d been able to put a stop to it sooner…

“Stop it,” Rhodey stepped out of his suit. “You couldn’t have known. No one could.”

Tony, too, stepped out of his suit, though still kept his back turned to Rhodey. They’d known each other near on thirty years, and they should’ve had another thirty more. How do you say goodbye to that, how do you sum up those thirty years, the ones that will never be, into a single sentence?

Behind him, Rhodey sniffed. “Just come back to me, man. Do whatever you gotta do to come home with the kid.”

Tony broke. He turned and wrapped his arms around Rhodey, he returned the embrace with his strong arms, holding each other close as tears fell freely.

“Promise me.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Tony whispered into Rhodey’s shoulder.

“I love you.”

“You need to let me go.”

“I can’t.”

Tony paused. Swallowed. “I love you, too.” He pulled away and walked towards the shack without looking back, head held high. He’d greet death with grace and dignity.

The door to the shack practically disintegrated in Tony’s hand, coating his palm in dust and rust from the handle. Inside was dark, only a single corner illuminated, both Peter and Avery visible. Peter saw Tony first, his escape attempts doubled in effort, though they were weak. Avery’s beating was clearly weighing on his body.

“I’m here,” Tony forced his voice to remain flat. “Now let him go.”

Slowly, Avery turned to face Tony. “All in good time. Come, join us.”

Tony did as he was told, remembering Avery’s threat about behaving themselves. “Just get it done.”

Avery reached out a hand, pulling a handgun from within the folds of the jacket, turning it over in their hands. “Some interesting information came to light.” Avery’s eyes flicked up to meet Tony’s. “You didn’t come alone.”

A jolt of fear ran down Tony’s spine, there was no point denying it now. “Rhodey’s a mile off, that way.” He pointed the direction he’d walked in from. “To take Peter home, nothing else.”

“That’s against the rule.” Avery levelled the gun at Peter, the kid froze. His Bambi eyes were wider than Tony had ever seen. Tony took half a step towards him, to block the shot with his body, when Avery spoke. Raising their voice for the first time. “Move, and I shoot.”

Tony held his hands up, returned to his spot. “Rhodey’s a mile off,” he repeated, trying to emphasise how little importance it was. “I came here alone.”

Avery stayed silent, seeming weighing up the options. Eventually, they stepped closer to Peter and pulled the gag from his mouth. “It seems, Little Spider, that we have a problem. Be honest, now, did he break the rules.” Avery stepped back, gun still aimed at Peter’s chest. “Remember, your life hangs in the balance.”

“Pete, look at me.” Peter pried his eyes away from Avery and met Tony’s. “That’s it, you’re doing so good. You know what you have to say, don’t you?” Peter’s eyes flooded with tears, Tony’s too, and he nodded. “You have to say I did everything right. Then you can go free.”

“Mister Stark,” Peter whispered. “I’m sorry I let this happen, I’m sorry I got you caught up in my mess.”

“No, you don’t need to say that. Everything’s okay.”

“Hurry, Little Spider. Yes or no, did he break the rules?”

Peter dropped his chin to his chest.

“Did he break the rules?”

Slowly, Peter lifted his head to Avery; jaw clenched, eyes lit with determination. “Yes.”

“No!” Tony roared, he dived forwards as soon as the word left Peter’s mouth. A single shot rang out, the sound filling every inch of Tony’s body. He’d never be able to forget that feeling. The explosion of pain in his chest, how his knees felt so weak it was a miracle he still stood upright, the knowledge that this was it, that everything was over…

The sight of blood steadily flowing from Peter’s chest and pooling in his lap. His scream of pain, every ragged breath he sucked in through gritted teeth. The colour drained from Peter’s face, Tony knelt beside his chair and cupped a hand to his cheek.

“Hold on, for me. Please, Peter, hold on.”

Somewhere, Avery shuffled around. There was a loud click, and all Peter’s restrains released simultaneously. He crumpled into Tony’s arms, and Tony cradled him, gently brushing a curl of hair from his bloodied face, one hand clamped down on the seeping wound over his heart. That hand stained red the second he placed it there.

“I’m so-rry,” Peter whispered, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, bright red against his stark white skin.

“Shh,” Tony hummed, not caring as tears slipped down his cheeks. “I’ve got you. I’m going to get you out of here. Stay with me, can you do that?”

Peter’s body gave an involuntary spasm, Tony held him tighter. “My fa-ault, don’t blame y-yourself.”

Despite everything, Tony laughed. A wet chuckle. “You know me too well, kid.”

Peter smiled, his eyes slipping closed. “I’ll be okay.”

“Me too.” It was a lie, but Tony would’ve said anything at that moment if it gave the kid even an ounce of ease. Peter fell limp in his arms. “Pete,” Tony tapped his cheek gently. “Kid, come on. Don’t mess with me.” He shook Peter’s body.

Nothing.

“No,” Tony whispered, a fresh wave of tears tracking down his face as he folded protectively over Peter’s body hand hugging him close. “No, please. No...”

The ghost of Peter’s grin still rested on his face. Even in death, Peter smiled.

“I thought I’d feel something.” Avery stood over the pair on the floor, looking down with an utterly emotionless face. “I thought I’d feel… completed. The job is done, after all.”

Tony laid Peter down as gently as possible, not wanting to disturb his sleep, and got to his feet. Avery observed each of his movements, head tipped to the side.

“What does it feel like, do you think? Death?” Avery nodded at Tony. “You came close. How could it feel to lose everything? Feel it all just… slipping away.”

“I’ll show you how it feels,” Tony growled, hands balled into fists and eyes burning with hatred, rage, pain. With grief. “You can count on that.” He didn’t need his suit to make Avery suffer.

#whumptober2020 #no.2 #pick who dies #kidnapping #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #irondad #fanfic #irondad fanfiction #marvel fanfic #character death tw #blood tw #kidnapping tw #gun violence tw #TDA whumptober #tony stark #peter parker

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rabbit-exe · 4 years

Text

I wrote a short thing about my dbd bastards (that like, three human beings know about) specifically set in the most recent chapter of @ziracona‘s fic. sorry in advance, I don’t really like this one. also tw for canon-typical violence and stuff

Ivory Memento

Jason Dunn is running, because of course he is. That’s just the way of things. Jason, he runs and fights and throws himself in and out of danger, because someone has to so it might as well be him.

But this time is special.

Jason Dunn is not running away. Jason Dunn is running towards.

There’s a hole in the fake-world he’s been stranded in for so long, and God help anybody who gets in his way. He’s getting everyone out of here. He’s gonna save fucking everyone who deserves saving, and maybe then some, because - because.

(Because you couldn’t save her, says something bitter and nasty in his brain. Because you let her die and you let her do it.)

“Piss off,” says Jason to the thing in his brain, and catches sight of movement in his periphery - David? - injured and running towards him. David’s a rugby player, and he fuckin’ moves like one - like he’s unstoppable, like a battering ram.

Now his steps are athletic, but not like before - he doesn’t dig his heels in and force himself to barrel through the place. He’s agile, still striding with force but his footsteps don’t make any sound and he sprints like he’s about to pounce instead of ram -

Shit.

He watches his sister running at him, wearing the face of his friend, and as he takes the big fuck-off spear from where it’s slung over his back he figures it’s about fucking time.

He bolts.

As far as he knows, there aren’t any palettes here - but that doesn’t matter, because there’s shrapnel and broken car parts and he’s fucking resourceful, ok, he’s got this.

The satisfaction he feels when he slams a warped car-door into Morag’s shoulder (catching her jacket in the process - nice) is immediately overshadowed by awe when he instinctively doubles back and kicks the hunk of scrap metal, hard, hard enough Morag is sent staggering back with a muffled grunt of pain.

She’ll have some trouble finding him - he’s never been great at hiding in plain sight, but he’s a creative little bastard and finding somewhere to fuck off to that the killer won’t find is a talent of his. He darts off while Morag re-orients herself (taking longer than she should - he glimpses a pulse of blood through the cracks in her mask as she grabs at her face, and fuck, she’s actually hurt?) and runs to a little alcove of crushed car parts where there would usually be a locker, except.

The thing is, right, he’s not so great at the whole planning thing. He knows, logically, that right now is different. That there aren’t palettes, that this isn’t a trial ground, that there won’t be lockers either.

But he, like an idiot, forgot that.

And then she’s rounding the corner after a brief hunt for him, looking - well - pissed. Her grip around her mirror is white-knuckled, which leads him to realise that the glass is not bloody. But that doesn’t make sense, she has to hurt someone to mimic them.

But David takes hits for fuckin’ everyone, all the time. So… so maybe, right now, she doesn’t. Maybe she just needs them to have bled at all.

Fuck - he glances down at his scraped knee, barely bleeding anymore but still sticky with blood.

Morag makes a sound - like a sigh, some sort of weird exhale-growl, and Jason feels briefly nauseous as her form… it… cracks, like glass shattering, black nothing skittering along her skin and rearranging the shards into something… familiar.

It’s a little girl, limbs stretched grotesquely with too much material to fit properly into the shape. Dirt coating her, smearing her face, short curls of ginger hair matted down in thick clumps. Blood coming out of her nose, her mouth, her ears, the hole in her head -

“Millie?” He whispers, suddenly sheet-white and sweating. “But you’re,”

Jason looks at her and wants to throw up.

“How - you,” his brain is lagging and so is his body - it feels like he’s dreaming, like being drunk.

And then it hits him.

Her blood.

Jason’s stomach gives out and he vomits, coughing and spluttering and fucking crying because of course she could do this, she could the whole fucking time, Millie’s blood was the first she ever got on her fucking murderer hands and she’s his sister and he loves her and he doesn’t want to fucking kill her but fuck this is, this isn’t -

“No. No, fuck you. Fuck this!” He shouts, unable to care about how terrible an idea that is right now. “You were saving her, weren’t you? To show me when you finally - when you finally put me in the fucking ground for good. Well fuck you, Morag. Fuck you for killing our sister. Fuck you for killing our parents. Fuck you for not killing me! ‘Cause you’re never gettin’ the chance again!”

A lazy trickle of blood from the mirror and it’s Morag again, shoulders squared, still staring from behind that stupid mask that he gave her, the mask that got him dragged back here.

Something inside him breaks.

He punches her square in the jaw.

She’s not expecting it - yeah, she’s taller than him by a good fucking margin, but he’s pissed and she thinks she can’t be hurt.

Newsflash, arsehole, he thinks, watching as she slowly turns back to face him, a fresh pulse of red beading at the cracks in her mask.

“Jason,” she says, voice quiet and cracked like she hasn’t spoken in years. Because she fucking hasn’t, he realises, and that must have driven her even more off the deep end than she already was. “Ja-son.” She’s testing the sound, feeling out the shape of it in her mouth. Her fingers twitch.

And then she’s on him - in a flash, like a cat pouncing on a mouse.

Her mirror catches against the bridge of his nose and fuck it hurts but he takes it and kicks up at her, wrestling her hands away from his face and trying to knock her off-balance. He manages to get her off him, grabbing one of the shards embedded in her neck and ripping it out - not quite, it stays lodged in her flesh but it gives and tears and she makes a choked sound - and she reels back, grabbing her mirror tightly as she crouches above him about to bring it down into his face -

The spear is lying next to him, and he grabs it, shoving it with all his strength right into her shoulder, and her cracked, ruined voice gives out halfway through her pained growl. And he’s got her now, he can tell, she doesn’t know what to do, she can’t remove the spear without risking him escaping or getting hurt worse.

Then Morag grabs it firmly and rams the blunt end against his own shoulder, and there’s a weird popping noise and a sensation like when you squeeze bubble wrap tight enough to burst and the noise that comes out of him is fucking inhuman.

His vision whites out for just a moment, and comes back just in him for him to watch as she raises her mirror above his face, the spear gone, about to carve him up like he did hers so many years ago now and this is it, isn’t it. He was never going to win this fight.

She’s taking it slow, observing him like she wants to replay this moment over and over in her head, and she leans over just enough to shove her mirror into his face.

And also, coincidentally, just enough for him to do this.

She sees the kick coming a second too late and it doesn’t break her jaw like he’d intended (though a part of him is relieved because he’s seen that happen to someone before and it looks like it hurts in a unique, secret way you’re not supposed to be able to feel) but her mask comes flying off, and his boot takes off a strip of what remains of her face skin and she makes this noise he’s never heard her make.

It’s a punched, wrenching noise. Like something rusted and caught inside the workings of her chest and she can’t get it to move like it should, so instead it just jolts and hurts and… her face never healed.

His dislocated shoulder is still screaming at him, but that doesn’t seem to matter anymore, because his scary murder sister is dripping blood and ragged flesh down onto him and he doesn’t know what to do.

Before she even sees him looking at her, she covers her head, and makes another ragged sound as her dirty hands press against her ruined face.

He knew, logically, that whatever the Entity did to her won’t let her face heal. Her mask has been knocked off before, in trials, and it slowed her down but then she went right back to killing, so… wow, she’s really bleeding a lot, huh. It never really occurred to him how badly that must hurt. He’s never been close enough and calm enough to see her twisted body - there’s cracks in her flesh, spider-webbing up her arms, like broken porcelain. He can see her teeth through a gash in her cheek.

After a bit, he kind of stopped believing that she could be hurt, much less die - that she would just keep going. Like he did. But now his twin is moving slowly, pawing at the ground for her mask while keeping one hand pressed against her face, and he kind of hates that he feels bad for her.

He can’t kill her now. He just… can’t.

God fucking damnit, Morag, he thinks, staring down at what remains of his sister. Jason makes a decision.

“Your mask is somewhere around here. There’s a gate open. Go, or don’t.” He hesitates. “I won’t ever forgive you,” she doesn’t look up, but she’s listening, as she slowly gets to her feet. “But you’re my sister, and I love you, and even you don’t deserve to be stuck here forever. Go fuck yourself.”

He turns and runs.

She watches him go, head tilted in that curious way of hers, and he somehow doesn’t regret it.

#dbd #writing #the mortifying ordeal of being known #@ziracona this is all your fault #in living memory (fic)

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lostinfantasies38 · 5 years

Text

Tease

Characters: FHawke/Varric Tethras

Rating: M (explicit language, minor sex scenes) [oneshot]

"Hawke? You feelin’ okay?" Varric looked at his friend and was more than a little unnerved by the anxiety in her eyes as she took in their surroundings. He and Hawke had been sucked in by a desire demon stalking Darktown. They had only come to this part of town so she could get some more poisons from Tomwise and he needed a face-to-face with one of his Coterie contacts.

Neither of them was wearing their usual armor, which meant that they did not have the extra spirit resistance runes they had obviously begun to rely very heavily on. Even though Varric still had Bianca and Hawke had her father’s staff (and probably six daggers hidden on her person, for extra security) they had not been prepared when the demon pulled them in with her purple tendrils.

"I'm perfectly fine, Varric." Hawke's melodic voice lied. Even jangled as his nerves were, her voice washed over him and yanked the tangled knot of "I can't deal with this shit, so I'm just going to pretend it's not there" that he had kept under wraps for a good three years.

Varric stared at her, hyperaware of the tight set of her shoulders and the white knuckles on her staff. Her long black hair that was usually swept in a ponytail when she was working was braided and slung over her shoulder today. Those piercing blue eyes could freeze a man in his tracks, even without the hard edge in them, at the moment. And her mouth did not have its characteristic lilt, as though she could be expected to drop a terrible pun any second. Now it was drawn into a severe line that had alarm bells ringing in his head.

The dwarf glanced around, but they didn’t seem to be anywhere that he recognized. It was just blank, gray wasteland as far as he could see. “Where are we?” His voice came out more quietly than he meant it to, giving away some of his own nervousness about their situation.

Hawke’s eyes never stopped scanning the area as she answered. “We’re in the Fade.”

Varric rolled his eyes, but she didn’t return the sarcasm with her own, like she normally would have. “I know that. I mean where in the Fade? Aren’t there like...realms or something?” Hawke nodded absentmindedly.

“I can’t be sure where we are exactly. It was a desire demon, right?” Her blue eyes caught his honey ones searchingly.

“Purple? Nipple shields? Creepy tail? Yep, desire demon.” Hawke snorted and gave him a ghost of a smile and Varric allowed himself to relax just a little.

“Then we must be in her realm. Though, I am surprised how long it’s taken her to show up.” Varric cocked Bianca beside her and he could see some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate.

“We should move, Hawke. Staying in the open like sitting ducks is not a good idea.” Hawke nodded and together they scouted the gray terrain. A shape shimmered like a mirage in the distance giving Varric a queasy feeling in his gut, but there was nowhere else to go. Hawke looked just as unsettled as he felt, however they quickly made their way to the building, in spite of their misgivings.

As they neared the structure, Varric realized it was Hawke’s estate. Hawke held her staff at the ready and glanced at him for his affirmative nod before she pushed open the door. Nothing attacked them when they entered the foyer and it looked exactly like the one in Kirkwall. Hawke’s table with a month’s worth of unread mail, her order sheets for potions and runes, even Dragon was curled up in his usual spot in front of the fire. Everything was normal.

A giggle and running sounded from upstairs. Varric made for the stairs, but Hawke grabbed his arm and began to frantically drag him back to the door. “Hawke?”

He glanced at her in confusion and saw the deep red blush on her face going down her neck and even further. Her eyes were wide and she was panting in her desperation to escape, but the running gained on them since Varric was slowing them down as he tried to twist his arm from her grasp. “Mama! Mama, don’t go!”

Shit.

A whimper escaped Hawke’s lips right before her hand touched the door handle. Varric was frozen by the words spoken in a child’s voice behind them and stared at his friend. He was afraid to turn around and find that her deepest desire was to have half-elven children with Broody. Isabella told him about the night she and Fenris spent together and how the elf abandoned her afterwards. The pirate was forced to hog tie him to his stone chair for three hours until he calmed down and stopped raging about going to Hightown to beat him senseless.

Hawke’s entire body was vibrating in terror, but she turned around anyway. “Mama! You’re home! You were gone longer than you said you’d be, but it’s okay. Uncle Anders has been helping Orana watch us.”

“Bethany.” Hawke’s voice reminded Varric of a rusted gate scraping open for the first time in decades. Unable to take the suspense any longer, he turned his head to see this figment of Hawke’s imagination. The little girl couldn’t have been more than six years old with her mother’s dark, sleek hair and mouth, a button nose, and laughing amber eyes. There was something off about her, besides the fact that she wasn’t real, but Varric couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

A baby cried upstairs and Hawke dropped her staff to run in the very direction she’d dragged him away from and Varric followed, in case it was a trap. Who was he kidding? This whole damn scenario was a trap. The girl disappeared into smoke when Hawke ran past her and he shivered – now he followed her because he refused to be alone with all the creepy shit.

Hawke paused outside the door that had been her mother’s and Varric placed his hand gently on her arm. There was so much that was said between them in that touch and with a shaky breath Hawke pushed open the door exposing the cradle in the middle of the room. He could see the chubby arms waving in the air under the blanket and for reasons he didn’t understand his heart lurched when Hawke reached down and picked up the babe.

He expected the baby to disappear when she picked it up like the girl did, but it remained solid. Hawke sank to her knees and cried softly against the child who quieted at its “mother’s” touch. It was too personal. It was too deep. He didn’t do deep, especially with Hawke, and he felt like an intruder. Varric turned slightly to walk away when the girl reappeared and put her hand on Hawke’s shoulder.

“Mama, don’t cry. Garen missed you, but you’re home now and he’s happy again.”

A chill passed down Varric’s back at the boy’s name. Hawke cried louder and pointedly avoided looking at him. The girl looked at him for the first time and then the pieces began to fall into place. Her limbs were too short for a human child, especially one of her age, and her eyes were not the same color brown that Aveline once described Bethany’s as being. If Anders was her “uncle,” then she didn’t get that color from him. And Fenris had eyes that were the exact same shade as moss. That only left one…

“Hello, Papa!”

His knees buckled and he fell on the floor willing his heart into a steady rhythm again so he could breathe, because right now he was sucking in air like a fish out of water. Both children winked out of existence into the ether and a throaty laugh echoed throughout the house, but it did not reveal itself. Which was a blessing because neither of them could have even attempted to stand, much less fight off a demon in their current state.

“Hawke,” Varric croaked. She shook her head and turned away from him. “Maeve, please,” he whispered. The mage jumped at the use of her given name, so rarely used, and suddenly he felt guilty about that. He moved closer to her. Slowly, slowly, treating her like a scared cat that could lash out or bolt at any second.

“Mages aren’t allowed to get married and have families, Varric.” He froze halfway across the room as her raw vocal cords produced sounds that weren’t so gut wrenching.

“That doesn’t stop it from happening. Look at your parents.”

Hawke spun around and clawed the front of her clothes. Her eyes were wild – frantic, panicked, and when she spoke again there was an edge to her voice he’d never heard. “I do look at them. They were never happy because worrying about the templars kept them living in fear. So, WE lived in fear.” Varric winced. “I was afraid every time I sneezed that I would set the curtains on fire like I did when I was nine. Bethany and I grew up knowing that even outside of the Circle we could never be normal. We could never have husbands or children.” She laughed hollowly. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be a mother, but I can’t. Magic is too strong in my family. I’m bound to have mage children and I can’t ask them to live on the run like I did.”

A knife twisted in his gut. “Is…is that why the kids are mine? Because you hope the dwarven blood will dampen the magic?”

Hawke couldn’t make eye contact with him, but a blush was blooming across her skin again. She wasn’t giving him any other indicators that he could read, whether positive or negative, but it stung all the same.

The estate winked out and left them sitting in the gray wastes of the Fade again. Another building shimmered in the distance and without a word or sparing a glance at each other, they shouldered their weapons and moved guardedly towards it. It wasn’t long before the upside-down sign of The Hanged Man became visible.

“Oh, goody, it’s my turn apparently,” Varric muttered to himself. He pulled open the door and it spit them directly into his suite instead of the main tavern. All their friends, including Hawke and Varric, were sitting around his table playing Wicked Grace. It could have been any of the hundreds of times they’d played over the last three years, but he recognized it immediately and he backed away until he bumped into a bookshelf. Hawke watched him out of the corner of her eye as the memory unfolded.

“Oh, I’m terrible at this game. I’ll never get it right,” Merrill pouted as she lost another round.

Isabella laughed sweetly. “Kitten, you’re not good at it because you play with a bunch of cheats. Here, take this. Drink with us and hang out, but don’t worry your pretty little head about Wicked Grace.” The pirate handed her a steamy romance novel and Merrill’s eyes lit up.

Hawke chuckled. “When you’re done with it, let me know, Merrill. Isabella claims that’s the sexiest bodice ripper she’s read in a while.” Merrill nodded and started reading. She wasn’t three pages in before her ears were flaming red.

Varric shook his head and chuckled softly at the crazy women in his group of friends. He was especially aware of the raven haired mage next to him and the heat that radiated from her. It took him a long time to realize it was her magical aura. He leaned over on the pretense of stretching his side and angled his leg closer to her. Memory Hawke didn’t notice, but Real Hawke did.

Two rounds and four more mugs later, everyone was becoming sloppy drunk, even Varric. No one really paid the dwarf and their leader any mind as they leaned in close when they talked. It was common and had become more so after their Deep Roads excursion that was only six months behind them.

Varric, Hawke, and Anders refused to speak of the two months they spent trapped underground, afraid they would never see daylight again. All their friends knew was that it had been traumatic and that Varric and Hawke were plotting the myriad ways to kill Bartrand.

Memory Hawke was speaking to him and casually laid her hand on his, ungloved for once, but she missed the way he shivered involuntarily at the contact. Merrill called to her down the table, distracting her so he could grab his mug and hide the ragged breath he exhaled before he took a sip. When she turned back to him, his face was a perfectly schooled mask of friendliness again.

He shuffled the deck for the last round – he could hear Edwina yelling that everyone needed to be out in an hour. Varric was so flustered by her presence that he missed Isabella’s slight of hand and she fleeced them all that night. But he didn’t really care either. Everyone began to pack up, except for Hawke. She waved them all goodnight and made sure that Isabella would see Merrill home safely. Anders shut the door behind them and it was just the two of them – alone.

It was Real Varric’s turn to studiously avoid his friend’s eye. Shit, fuck, damn it, damn it, shit!

Memory Hawke looked up from her mug and sighed. “Varric, I have a question.”

Memory Varric was trying to play it cool, spreading his hands wide magnanimously. “I might have an answer, depending on the question.”

Hawke ran her finger along the rim of her mug a little nervously. “Are you angry with me?” Varric sputtered and looked at her incredulously.

“Should I be?”

Hawke fluttered her hands and she bit her lip uncertainly. “Well, the Deep Roads were…trying.” Varric snorted into his mug, but didn’t interrupt. “I was a little…uh…handsy at times. Mostly with you and I…” She laughed softly. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid. I’ve just felt guilty about it, because you…didn’t seem to…shit, this is awkward. Forget I said anything.” Hawke stood abruptly, but was stopped when he grabbed her wrist.

“I didn’t what, Maeve? We’re friends. If I hurt your feelings or offended you, I want to know, so I don’t do it again.” He smiled gently and she ran a hand through her long hair as she sat back down.

“You didn’t seem…to reciprocate…my handsy-ness. I was afraid I crossed a line.” A hollow laugh passed her lips and she dropped her voice to a whisper. “I thought I was going to die. That we were all going to die. And Maker help me, I didn’t want to die without…”

“A tumble? A great shag with a handsome dwarf?” Varric teased to lighten the tension and Hawke gave a real chuckle. He squeezed her hand and smiled. “It wasn’t that I wouldn’t have – it’s just...”

“Bianca?” Varric closed his eyes so she couldn’t tell that he was lying and nodded his head. A feather light touch brushed his stubbled jaw and he snapped them open again, trying to figure out if the electricity that danced on his skin was her magic or simply her. Hawke smiled wistfully. “Well, I can’t fault you for that, Varric. I just wanted to make sure we were good. Sometimes you go out of your way to avoid touching me and our fights a little more stilted than they used to be. I miss us being more…organic.”

Varric smiled. “I’ll work on it. I think the Deep Roads rattled me more than I realized, but I’m getting back in the swing of things.”

“Good. I’ve missed you.” This time when she stood, he did not stop her. With a final goodnight, she slipped out of his suite and the tavern.

Once the door closed behind her Varric bent over and laid his forehead on the cool stone. “Forgive me, Maeve. I’m such a coward. I should have told you the truth. I think you replaced Bianca before the Deep Roads and I wanted…I couldn’t…Fuck. I’m so sorry.” Real Hawke watched in stunned silence as Memory Varric sat up and wiped traitorous tears off his face before ambling drunkenly to bed.

Varric shivered when the demon’s laughter echoed throughout his suite, but he still couldn’t look at Hawke. The silence stretched between them until it threatened to swallow both of them whole. He finally risked a glance at his friend and saw silent tears rolling down her face and he felt sick.

“I-I couldn’t...I can’t…” Varric paused to take a steadying breath. “I can’t talk feelings. Bianca kinda ruined me there.”

Hawke opened her eyes and her striking eyes were brimming with anguish. “That’s not the problem, for me at least. This is a memory. Mine was my deepest, darkest desire that I hid even from myself. But now I know that I don’t rank highly enough for you for that. I’m only surprised the demon hasn’t shown me a heartbreaking vision of you and Bianca running off into the sunset.”

Varric grimaced. He wanted to explain that he loved her, but the words turned to ash on his tongue. He wanted to tell her that he had too much respect for her and he was too much of a coward to pursue her because he was afraid of losing her, like he lost Bianca. But even he knew they would sound hollow and she wouldn’t believe them now. He’d lost his chance.

The laughter was back this time with form. The demon clapped sarcastically at their expense. Hawke spat. “Tease. You aren’t even a full desire demon. You only dangle pieces of enticing visions to ensnare.”

Tease smiled wickedly. “It worked for you, didn’t it? And now you’re here,” she waved her hand and the tavern disappeared. They were back in the graylands. “You said you wanted to see the dwarf’s deepest desire. The one he hides even from himself,” she purred while a clawed hand lifted his chin. He moved to punch her in the fucking mouth, but he was frozen. She was speaking only to Hawke, because she was the mage and Tease wanted to own her.

Hawke spared him a quick glance, but then she turned her full attention to Tease. “What is your price?”

“Let me merge with you, mage. We can be Hawke together and we can bring so much...pleasure to so many. Think of it as giving back to the community.” The demon laughed and Varric felt his length harden. Tease noticed and swung her hips at him. “See, Hawke? How easy it can be...and how delicious?”

“Show me first. I want to guarantee you won’t go back on your word.”

Tease flicked her tail and then shrugged. “Have it your way, my pet.” The demon waved her hand building substance over them again and disappeared with a seductive chuckle.

Hawke was surprised to see they were back in her estate. Her bedroom, no less. Varric was sitting at her desk, but it was full of his Guild documents and ledgers. Even his father’s signet ring was sitting beside the red wax for sealing letters.

She glanced at Varric, who was unfrozen, but had his head buried in hands. Without even looking he knew what he would see. His fantasy of Hawke and himself in her mansion, living in the open as lovers. His deepest desire.

Turning back, she watched another version of herself walk into her room and was momentarily thrown off by the oddness of it, before she refocused her attention. She was wearing finery, but they weren’t her usual maroon, they were dark green and black. House Tethras colors, she realized. Hawke paused in the bedroom and smiled softly at the man working hard to keep the family business running. She moved up behind him and slid her arms around his chest. Varric sighed happily and put down his quill to run his hands over hers.

“Long day,” Hawke asked. Varric nodded into her cleavage and then nuzzled them appreciatively. Hawke leaned over and kissed him, slow and languid, as though they had been lovers for years and knew just how the other liked it. Still leaning over him, her fingers gently moved down his chest and began to unclasp his duster. “Let me make you more comfortable,” she breathed in his ear and Varric moaned.

He snaked his hands around her waist, amazed by how small she was all these years later, and let one hand trail up her back along her spine to gently knead out the day’s tension from her back. Hawke sighed contentedly at his touch and stood up to help pull his duster over his head. Varric hopped off the chair, clad only in his breeches, and scooped Hawke up in a practiced move and carried her to bed.

The bed was different. It wasn’t dwarven, but it was lower to the ground than a regular bed, so he didn’t have to scramble in and out all the time. He laid her gently on the plush mattress, slowly pulling the tie on her robe, and breathed her name. “Maeve.”

“ENOUGH!” Hawke waved her hand and the vision disappeared. Varric was staring at the ground, but she needed to know. Within a couple of steps, she towered over him and lifted his chin. “Tell me…is it true or is it a lie?” He raised his honey eyes to hers – the ones that she always imagined their children would have, because she loved them so much. His face looked pained, regret perhaps? His eyes, though, they were full of hope…of want…of desire.

Hawke stepped back with a gasp and clutched her heart. “Why,” she rasped. “Why didn’t you tell me? Maker, Varric…do you – do you know how long I’ve loved you?” Tears were pouring from her and her lovely mouth was screwed into an unnatural shape by the force of her sobs.

“Probably as long as I’ve loved you, Maeve,” he whispered. It was a relief to say the words aloud, but the admission was too late, he could see. All the woman in front of him currently felt was betrayal. “I’m so sorry.”

Hawke’s eyes jerked up to meet his. “I just sold my soul to find out what you should have told me years ago.” She flung her arm behind her. “We could have had that! For the last three years, that could have been us and Maker’s breath, I would have been so fucking happy!”

“You don’t have to do this, Mae – Hawke.” Varric swallowed hard at the way her eyes flashed when he tried to use her given name.

“Yes, I do, Varric. This is not a normal part of the Fade. We’ve been enthralled and our bodies are dying on the outside. If I don’t do this, we don’t wake up and…you die. No matter how hurt I am right now I could never, ever wish you dead.”

Laughter echoed all around them and Tease materialized between them. “Such a smart mage, you are. We shall make a fabulous team, my pet. Now, say goodbye to your dwarven friend. Once we merge, I promise that your love for him will end and there will be no more pain. We can find more lovers.”

Hawke stood firm before the demon and she raised herself to her full height. “The spell holding him is released prior to my possession or we don’t have a deal. If you fight me, you lose your host, so be smart about this.”

“Hawke, no!”

Tease waved her hand and he was frozen and silenced. Varric jerked against the invisible bindings and screamed even though there was no sound. Tease ran a clawed finger across Hawke’s beautiful face. Azure eyes met honey while the demon smiled and licked her lips. “Done.” Tease snapped her fingers.

Varric woke with a start, rolling off the cot in Anders’ clinic and violently vomiting everything in his stomach until there was nothing left, except bile. Anders rushed over and cast a few diagnostic spells and sent him some healing for the nausea. Spotting Hawke on the cot next to him, Varric dashed over and shook her shoulders. “Wake up, Maeve! For fuck’s sake, wake up!”

Anders and Fenris were both required to restrain him while they peppered him with questions. He couldn’t answer any of them, it would have taken too much time so he looked at Anders and said, “Tease has her.”

Justice flared blue and white hot, bringing with him the smell of ozone, as the spirit raged at the knowledge that one of their own was held hostage by a demon. “If she had been possessed, she would be awake by now. Maybe she has tricked this demon and fights it in the Fade?”

Varric raked his hands through his hair and screamed obscenities to the Maker and Andraste and the damned Ancestors, for good measure. That’s exactly what she did! That’s why she wanted him to wake up first. That’s what the final look was for – she was fucking sacrificing herself for his stupid, sorry, good-for-nothing dwarven ass.

“There is nothing we can do,” rumbled Fenris.

Justice shook his head. “Not on this side. We don’t even know where she might be in the Fade, but if she bests the demon she will wake because the spell she is trapped under will break. But if she loses, she will wake possessed.”

“What if…” Fenris paused. “What if she dies in the fight?” Justice spared a sad look for the mage and did not answer – which was answer enough.

Varric had run out of curses and energy. He sank to the filthy floor without a care and stared at her laid out as if sleeping on the cot, instead of fighting a demon for him in the Fade. Tears ran down his cheeks of their own accord and for once, he didn’t even hide them. He deserved the shame, the ridicule, the guilt. He couldn’t rid his mind of the heartbroken expression on her face when she realized that he loved her that deeply and never told her. That he probably never would have because he was a coward. He was too worried about himself to think how his reticence would hurt her until it was too late. Now, she was doing the most noble (stupid) thing one could do for another – die for them. Her devotion to him far outstripped his own.

That wasn’t actually true. Varric thought back to the Deep Roads and the night the darkspawn attacked their camp. Blondie had given them a heads up so they were prepared for the assault. They just weren’t prepared for the sheer number of them. Halfway through she and Anders were about tapped on mana and there were no more lyrium potions. He was out of bolts, but he snagged a recurve bow and all the quivers with arrows still in them, so he was okay. He just had to be careful to not get surrounded.

Varric saw a Hurlock alpha with its horned helmet heading for Hawke from behind and he tried to aim at the knee, but the darkspawn was faster than he was. Realizing he’d never get a shot off before he reached her, Varric rained arrows on the field to slow him down and then ran to her. He shoved her out of the way and took the hit with the shield that had been meant for her. It threw him across the battlefield and he would have died had Justice not erupted out of Anders in that moment and given the mage the mana he needed to cushion his landing. Instead of smashing his brains across the Deep Roads, Varric only ended up with a headache. And now that he thought back to it, the noise in the background that he always assumed were darkspawn was the sound of Hawke screaming his name hysterically while he flew.

On shaky legs, Varric stood and walked over to Hawke. He took her hand gently and ran his thumb over her knuckles and pressed his lips on the back of her hand. He noticed that Fenris and Anders had slipped out some time ago, but at this point, he wouldn’t have stopped even if they were still there. He had wasted enough time with Hawke and was not going to miss any damn more.

“Please, Maeve. I was an idiot. A Maker-damned ass and I know I screwed up royally, but please...please don’t leave me. I-I don’t know what to do with myself when you aren’t around.” Varric chuckled softly. “I love your laugh, your smile, the way you light up an entire room as soon as you walk in. I love your fucking terrible jokes, even though I pretend to hate them. You have been the one constant in my life for the last three years. I know I can count on you through thick and thin. Damnit, Maeve – I love you so damn much. If you wake up, I swear I will spend the rest of my life making up to you the time we lost. Just open your beautiful eyes. Please, please, please.”

Varric laid his forehead tenderly on her abdomen and prayed harder than he had ever prayed in his life. His mother was probably rolling over in her tomb with the knowledge that her son was Andrastrian, but he never did care for dwarf shit anyway.

He had no idea how long he stayed that way, but he woke up in that position and moaned happily as fingers massaged his scalp and toyed with his hair. Wait, what? Varric jerked upright and saw her brilliant eyes staring down at him, her lips pulled up into a warm smile.

“Maeve,” he breathed and she laughed softly to keep from waking the other patients. “Is it really you? No…passengers?”

Hawke smiled wider. “No passengers, I promise, but I do have a friend in the Templars who could double check. For everyone’s peace of mind.”

Varric kissed her hand. “I’ll go get Keeran.”

Hawke chuckled again. “You don’t have to worry about demon possession with me, but I could swear you just read my mind, Varric.”

“I’ll have him check me, too, smartass.” Varric gave her a shaky smile and turned to leave, but she caught his hand. They stared at each other for a moment, at a loss for words, until Varric very slowly leaned down holding her stare as he went, in case she changed her mind. Their lips met for the first time that wasn’t a fantasy and Varric closed his eyes so he could focus on just her. Hawke. Maeve.

So much was said in that first sweet kiss and more was said later that night after Keeran declared them both free of demons and Varric lead Maeve home through the cellars. The story of Hawke’s elven lover was an invention created to throw off the Seekers and the Chantry, but they came for him anyway, since he was the author of the book. He was recruited into the Inquisition and was present during the battle at Adamant, but no one realized it was Hawke’s lover who paced restlessly outside the rift.

Their second time in the Fade together was even more terrifying than the first and he was praying again that she would follow him out. Varric could see movement behind the tear in the Veil, but it wasn’t until the Inquisitor stepped through that he could see Hawke. Varric shoved through the gathering crowd and fell in front of her. She gave him a weak smile, while he in return, kissed her soundly in front of everyone and didn’t stop until he heard the cheers and shouts behind them. Hawke grinned, blue eyes flashing mischievously, and Varric chuckled.

“Fuck it,” he muttered and kissed her through her laughter and the sounds of approval from the crowd. He promised her that first night that he would never tease her again. And he aimed to keep it.

#dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #female Hawke #varric tethras #hawke x varric #heavy angst #romance #oneshot

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the-walking-memelords · 4 years

Text

A2 - Chapter 3: The Deal

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Series is rated M

Word Count: 4030

Clementine and crew arrive at the Caravan's camp, but their reunion isn't as sweet as originally hoped.

Not when something so bitter lurks beyond the forest.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

The fenced-in play area of an old elementary school was brimming with the chatter of a rather large group setting up camp. Faded paint was barely visible on the ground, drawing out hopscotch sets and basketball courts. Rusted poles with off-white boards sticking out of the ground, nets long worn away from the hoops. Guards watched the gate leading to the parking lot while others patrolled the field where horses rested from the long journey.

The sharp sting of the peroxide reminded Clementine of where she was. Lost in her own head for so long, the remainder of the trip was more of a blur. She couldn’t remember the things they talked about on the way, or being escorted to the medical station.

“It’s shallow, doesn’t need stitches.” The olive-skinned woman said, brushing a lock of her short, sleek black hair behind her ear.

“Just keep it clean and it shouldn’t even scar.”

Scars were never something Clementine ever paid attention to, but some had rather loud memories attached that she tried to ignore.

She let out a sigh as she shifted on the crate she sat on, nails scratching into the water-stained wood. This woman was a stranger to her. Another new member of Layla’s crew. She acted friendly but there was an air of skepticism around her as if she was evaluating Clementine.

“You the new doctor around here?” Clementine questioned, not seeing the older gentlemen who usually greeted them, eager to help treat any injuries.

“I was... enrolled in a med school at some point, yes, but no.” She chuckled, crow’s feet appearing next to her eyes.

“Doc took Paige inside the second it was secured so she could get some real sleep away from the noise. I swear she’s such a light sleeper a walker could step on a twig a mile away and she would bolt upright.”

“Pretty useful for a traveller.” Clementine commented. She’d met Paige a few times, her and her two younger brothers. Her blond hair and fair skin were quite the contrast with the two younger boys, who were closer to resembling the woman in front of Clem.

“Is she alright?”

The woman paused for a moment, hands hovering over the first-aid kit she had been packing.

“She got bit almost a month ago.” She said quietly.

“The walker took off a few of her fingers, and Doc had to take off the rest of her hand.”

“Shit.”

“No kidding…” She sighed.

“To make things worse it got infected like a week later. She’ll live but she’s still a little unsteady. Doc feels guilty about it I guess, he cares about her and those boys like his own family. Boss was talkin’ about convincing her and the boys to stay at Alexandria on our next rotation but it’d be hard to get them and Doc to say goodbye.”

Clementine shifted her left leg, her prosthetic feeling like dead weight tied to her body. All this time and she wasn’t quite used to it. There were some days she woke up, pulling back the covers with a shock to realize it was really gone. Even still she had some bad nights spent with her face buried into the crook of Louis’ neck quietly sobbing as he held her, aches and cramps shooting through a part of her that didn’t exist anymore.

“CLEMENTIIINNNEEEE!” An extremely worried voice rushing towards her made Clem look up just in time to catch the young woman who practically flew into her arms.

“I missed you so much and Louis told me you were in the med bay and I was so worried and ohmygodareyouokay?”

“Layla please I can’t breathe.” Clementine begged her friend to release the crushing grip on her ribcage.

Layla was a young Persian woman about the same age and height as Clementine, but their personalities were quite opposite. If you hung around her for long enough you wouldn’t think the world had ended. She was bright and cheery not out of naivety but perhaps just to spite the horror of everything else.

“Oh my god yeah I’m so sorry I just wanted to make sure you were okay and ADDIE!” Layla’s curly black ponytail whipped around as she faced the woman.

“You made sure she isn’t dying, right?”

“Relax, boss, it was just a scratch.” Addie replied exhaustedly as she casually put up her arms defensively.

“Yeah but it’s the Clementine! She’s a hero!”

“Please stop calling me that.” Clem sighed. Clementine hardly thought anything she did was heroic. It was just… war. Nothing to be glorified.

“Hun, the Delta fell because of you! Maybe not directly… but it was a huge blow.” Layla reassured her.

“Either way, you made our jobs a lot easier. Y’know how hard it is to keep up like five trade deals when people try to rob you every other day? You’re late a lot.”

“Things seem to be settling down now.” Addie said, stretching back in her chair.

“Saviors are gone. Delta’s gone. The Whisperers are gone. Hell, even the Pack seems to have dropped off the face of the Earth. Probably fucked with Hilltop or something and got demolished by the alliance.”

Clementine’s blood ran cold at that last one. She scratched at her hands, trying to pick away the blood that would never truly wash away.

Two wrongs don’t make a right, Lilly.

We were never the good guys.

“The lesser of two evils.” Was how that vile woman justified it. How everyone justified it. How Clementine tried to justify it to herself as she stood by, watching the people she tricked suffer her fate over and over.

There was nothing just about any of it.

“Clem?” Layla’s voice called to her a lot softer and calmer than it had been. Her dark brown eyes seemed to see the storm inside of her.

“Are you alright?”

I thought I was.

“I’m fine.” Clementine hoped to convince her.

“It’s just not a time I like to think about.”

The two of them nodded in understanding. Layla pursed her lips as if thinking of a way to change the subject.

“Clem! C’mon, let’s go get Connor to look at that leg of yours.” Layla said as she grabbed Clementine’s hand, tugging her out of her seat and dragging her into the crowd.

“You better have been keeping up maintenance or you’re in for a lecture. That guy is worse than my old dentist when I forgot to floss.”

---

Louis and AJ wrapped the jars of preserved fruits in cloths as he placed them in Louis’ duffle bag, keeping in mind not to jostle it too much on the way home. Across the table from him, a brown-haired man with striking green eyes examined each fish a second time before placing them in an ice-filled cooler.

“Thanks, man.” Eric said.

“God, it feels like forever since we were last at Oceanside. It’s hard to get decent amounts of fish anywhere else.”

“We get lots from the river.” AJ stated with a wide grin.

“I help fish all the time!”

“Well, you’re doing us a favour. This is our farthest stop from Oceanside so we don’t get a lot of fish trades around here.” Eric smiled at AJ, leaning on his elbows on the fold-out table.

“You ever seen the ocean?”

“No.” AJ’s eyes filled with wonder and intrigue.

“It’s a giant body of water so big you can’t see where it ends. Filled with colourful fish big and small, some friendly and some deadly and so deep, even before the dead, we never figured out what lived at the bottom. For all we know, it could have been some great beast from ancient times, hidden forever from our mortal eyes.” Eric dramatized, speaking in a hushed whisper as if sharing the secrets of the universe.

“Woah.” AJ whispered back, his eyes as wide as they could possibly be.

“Louis, will we ever get to go to the ocean?”

“Maybe someday, little dude.” Louis pushed the brim of his hat down over his eyes as he turned to leave.

“Wait! One more thing...” Eric stopped them as he dug through his coat pockets.

“Here it is. Think fast, kid.”

Eric tossed a small pouch in the air towards the boy, who barely caught it. He untied the string, pulling out a marble-sized ball wrapped in wax paper.

“What are these?” AJ questioned as he unwrapped the paper, revealing a sticky dark gold ball that smelled sweeter than anything he’d ever eaten.

“Honey candies Raha cooked up a while ago.” He explained.

“Where the hell did you guys get good honey?”

“That shit never goes bad, dude.” Eric cheered.

“As long as it’s sealed right, that is. Hey, no one’s gotten sick yet! They were a hit with the kids at the last few communities. She asked me to give some to AJ since you’d probably be hiding from her again.”

“Louis!”

Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.

The bellowing voice of the small woman rang from halfway across the yard. She wore an immaculately white blouse in contrast to her knee-length black skirt, boots, and headscarf. Her brows were knit together in frustration as she approached the freckled man.

“Well if it isn’t the fashion police.” Louis teased, sighing as he knew what he was in for.

“That coat of yours looks sadder every time I see it.” Raha frowned, the older woman ignoring his comment in her own disappointment. Thumb on her lips, she squinted at him behind the black frames of her glasses, flicking an old piece of tape stuck to one of his sleeves.

“At this point, I might just give you a new one for free if you’ll let me put that old one out of its misery.”

Louis rolled his eyes and sent AJ to check on Clem as she dragged him over to her collection of textiles and jewelry. She sifted through neatly sorted boxes until she found the one she was looking for.

“I saved this one just for you!” She said excitedly, holding up the jacket.

It was a deep brown leather jacket lined with creamy white fur. It was waist length, a lot shorter than the one he’d been wearing all this time. But winter was coming, and it did look pretty warm, not to mention clean.

“Hmm... I don’t know.” Louis pretended to closely examine it, rubbing his thumb over the material and deciding to ruffle her feathers a bit more as payback for all of her nagging.

“Not sure it really suits my taste.”

“Sorry I don’t have anything as filthy as you prefer.” Raha tsked.

“Ugh! Just take it! In return, it’ll give me a little hope I may be able to save you from dressing like the dead.”

Raha threw the coat at him as she defeatedly closed the lid on her box of jackets. Louis could almost see the lightbulb appearing above her head as she gained a sly smirk, pulling out a wooden jewelry box.

“If you can’t find anything here that fits your style, perhaps you could find something that fits Clementines?” Raha sang as she showed Louis a selection of rings.

Raha’s collection was nothing narrow. Some were simple and cheaper designs while others would’ve fetched a pretty penny. Silver bands to gold ones all with varying gemstones and settings, all evenly displayed in the box’s green velvet interior.

“Where the hell do you find this stuff?” Louis gave a slightly nervous laugh.

“From a lot of people who weren’t using them anymore.”

“No thanks.” Louis couldn’t bring himself to take a closer look at any of the shining stones. It was as if his hand preferred to retract farther away from the box, his fingers instead tracing a circle near the collar of his shirt, feeling the band of his mother’s ring that hung from a chain around his neck.

I’ve already got one.

“Oh, c’mon.” She groaned.

“I know a lot of people don’t care about that crap anymore but don’t you think it would be romantic? I mean you two and that kid are already a family, don’t you think it would be a romantic way to show your undying devotion.”

And people say I’m dramatic.

“If you’re so much of a love guru then why am I the one with the girlfriend.” Louis teased.

“I-” Raha’s mouth hung open as she tried to think of a retort.

“Listen here you little shit.”

Laughter roared from a few meters away from where Eric had been eavesdropping. Raha immediately followed after him, hurling a string of something in Arabic he couldn’t understand.

The freckled man smiled at the idea. Marry Clementine? He couldn’t picture himself marrying anyone else, but getting married in this world? Would she even want to?

That’s a thought for a different day.

---

The young woman sat awkwardly in her seat inside the patchwork thin tent. Its purpose more to offer privacy than protection from the weather. Crates of tools and materials scattered the ground is just enough array to be quickly packed if the situation arose. Clementine pulled the hem of her dark teal jeans over the scarred stump of her left leg, hanging over the empty boot she wore over the wooden prosthetic which sat a few feet away laying on Connor’s work table. She rubbed the skin of her thigh over her pants, never realizing how much the straps dug until she took them off.

“Any malfunctions since the last time I looked at it?” The old Nigerian man stroked his salt and pepper goatee as he surveyed its condition.

“No, it’s been steady” Clementine scratched the dirt around her nails nervously. She hated doctor’s appointments when she was a kid and this was… almost the same thing? Kinda similar? Something about it made her uneasy at least.

“It’s cracked.” Connor stated flatly.

“What?” Clem sat up straight with a jolt. How could she have missed something like that? If it were to break in the wrong situation, that could be it.

“Look.” Connor pointed to around the joint of the ankle. Tiny splinters poked out like lightning bolts from under the screws holding it together. It wasn’t a completely worrying amount of damage, but wear and tear would only make those cracks grow.

“I could fill these with resin now and then have a new one ready for this time next month, or your group could stick around and I could have one ready by tomorrow. Although, one is more pricey than the other.”

Clementine didn’t want to risk her mobility if she didn’t have to.

“How much for an express order?”

“Bones and antlers are very good materials for making strong joints, and rumour has it your boy shot a deer recently.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Plus Layla is very good at finding work for people to do, surely she’d appreciate the help of you or a few of your friends.”

“Clem?” AJ peaked past the tent flap.

“C’mon in, kiddo.” Connor said in a friendly voice.

“You still got those deer bones?”

“Aasim has them.” He said, eyes glued forward as if he was trying not to stare at Clementine’s stump.

She knew he didn’t like being here, in this tent. A lot of guilt clung to him, and Clem feared it always would. She knows he doesn’t regret it, but sometimes the gravity is enough to weigh him down.

“I saved you, but at the same time now we’ll always be paying for it.” Was how he always described it.

“It still hurts you. You can’t move like before. And you always worry about your fake leg breaking.”

Clementine gave him a small smile when he did glance her way.

“Let’s go find him.” Clem said, cheerfulness slightly exaggerated as Connor helped reattach the prothetic before slipping her boot back on.

---

Clementine found Aasim in what appeared to be a mildly heated conversation between himself and Mitch, with Brody looking exasperated as she tried to referee it while Louis seemed to watch in amusement.

“It’s a stupid idea.”

“One stupid idea is still one more idea than you have, Aasim.”

“Oh thank god.” Brody whispered under her breath and Clementine and AJ approached with puzzled faces.

“What the hell are you up to now?” Clementine raised an eyebrow at them, which Louis shrugged off. “This moron wants to trade the last of the deer skeleton for a goddamn medieval battleaxe.” Aasim huffed in disbelief of his own sentence.

“...Seriously?” Her disbelief mirroring Aasim’s.

“I tried to make him at least pick something more practical.” Brody sighed.

“It sounds stupid but they have a shit ton of badass weapons and they’re not willing to trade most of them!” Mitch pleaded with their leader.

“C’mon Clem, you know it’d be cool.”

Clem stared at the freckled man, his sincerity surprising and unsurprising at the same time, to a very exhausted redhead and finally to Louis, who had been struggling to contain his laughter for a while.

“Sorry Mitch, but I need a new leg.” Clementine said, crushing Mitch’s dreams.

“Aasim, can you drop off what’s left at Connor’s tent?”

Clementine explained the rest of the deal to them, Louis and AJ agreeing to stay behind while the others brought their haul back to the school.

As the day dragged on, the rock that had formed in Clementine’s stomach only grew and no amount of manual labour seemed to distract her enough. A chill settled on her skin as the sky began to darken. She needed to talk to Layla. And Louis.

The Pack.

The Delta.

Saying their names was like poison on her tongue.

When will they ever let me go?

Clementine lost time as she sunk into her own thoughts. She jumped when she felt a firm hand on her shoulder, whipping around to see the smiling face of her boyfriend.

“Layla wants to talk to us.” He said as he held out his hand to help her stand and once she reached for it, she didn’t let go as they walked into the school building.

Water-stained papers laid practically cemented to the floor, coloured green and brown not by the gleeful hands of children, but the cruel hands of time and neglect. Lockers caked in chipped blue paint lined each side of the hall, some frozen shut with rust while others hung slightly ajar and some with no doors at all. The contents revealing long-abandoned backpacks of kids who had little time to escape or never made it out at all. The mental image was enough for her to walk a little closer to AJ.

The end of the hallway was heavily sectioned off by neatly stacked piles of desks and chairs from floor to ceiling ensuring nothing got through and if it did, it would certainly cause a scene.

“Come in.” Layla’s voice called from the last room of the hallway just as they approached.

Layla sat at the teacher’s desk, a detailed map of every community on her route laid before her. She chewed on the end of her pen as she scanned the elegantly written notes jotted around each indicated area. Ink of many colours traced streets and pathways between each plotted point, some older routes more faded than others. As Clementine got closer, she could see a dark spot on the map where something had been crossed out with a black marker, all of the newer routes avoiding this area. Just barely, she could make out the name written next to it.

The Kingdom.

“Thanks for helping out today, guys.” Layla said as she folded up her map, sliding it into an inner pocket of her jacket.

“Every set of hands helps, though I heard it was because of Conner driving a rather hard bargain.”

“We owe you guys a lot.” Louis acknowledged, giving Clem’s hand a squeeze.

“Plus, it’s probably fair payback for all the haggling ‘Sim puts your merchants through.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Layla laughed with a snort.

“Anyways, you guys can sleep in room 303. It should be easy to find, since it’s the only room with a number still on it.”

Louis and Aj began to move towards the door, but Lou’s hand ended up pulling on a non-budging Clementine as she decided there was one more thing she needed to discuss.

“Clem?”

“What ever happened to The Pack?” Her question came out in a flurry of words and suppressed emotions.

“Addie said they ‘Dropped off the face of the Earth.’ but what happened?”

“I wish I could tell you.” Layla’s face softened.

“I’ve asked around and they just… disappeared. If I were to guess they moved on to another area looking for someplace more divided to pick apart.”

Layla scowled at the grain of the wooden desk as Clementine stood with just as many questions as she started with. So much uncertainty in the situation. How does a group that large and malicious just… vanish? At first, it was a relief, knowing they had nothing to fear in the aftermath of the war. But now it was beyond frustrating. Fang-marked walkers appearing after all these years… It left her with an overwhelming beg of “Why?”

“Why are you bringing this up now all of a sudden?” The caravan leader asked with a tone of deepening worry.

“We’ve been finding his walkers.”

Clementine watched the colour drain from the young woman’s face. Louis must have seen it too, because he finally spoke up with panic edging into his voice.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice begged to be let into the loop.

“What the hell is ‘The Pack?’”

“They’re the reason I was sent to recruit you.” Clementine’s voice fell flat, hand letting go of Louis’ as her fingernails dug into her crossed arms. Her heart raced a mile a minute as the realization sunk into everyone in the room.

“A-Are you sure it was them?” Layla got up from her chair, biting her thumb as she began to pace.

“What if it was just some of their walkers that got loose.”

“Dead walkers don’t disappear on their own.” Clementine looked at AJ.

“I saw the symbol.” AJ spoke up, very confused about what was happening.

“Fangs. But the walkers weren’t there anymore when we went back. I know I killed them I aimed for the head.”

AJ bit his lip before taking a deep breath.

“The Delta tried hurt us, and they lost. If these guys want to hurt us, they’ll lose too.”

A heavy silence fell over them as Layla appeared to fight an internal battle, trying to cling to any reason to deny what was beginning to look obvious.

“I’ll send a patrol out tomorrow.” She decided, facing away from them and looking through the parts in the boarded-up window.

“Get some sleep, we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Feeling defeated physically and emotionally, Clementine turned to leave, loosely tugging on her boys to follow her to the room Layla had mentioned earlier.

Most of the debris had been piled in one corner of the room to make the tiled floor somehow more comfortable. A light-haired woman handed them a few blankets and pillows from the pile before the three of them picked a spot on the floor amongst the other sleeping people. Clementine elected to wear her prosthetic that night, not feeling anywhere safe enough to take it off. Even with the thick faux-wool blanket beneath them, she felt as if the broken tile sapped whatever bit of warmth she had left in her. She cuddled closer, AJ laying between her and Louis. Her boy wasn’t as small as he used to be, but getting to grow up was something Clem was overjoyed about.

Is that something I can still guarantee?

“I love you both.” Clementine said in a choked whisper, attempting to make determination replace her overwhelming sense of dread.

“We love you too.” Louis hugged the both of them close, placing a soft kiss on Clem’s forehead and a ruffle of AJ’s hair as the three of them dozed off.

#my writing #a2 #clouis #twdg clementine #twdg louis #twdg AJ #the walking dead game season 4 #the final season

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askthiscpblog · 5 years

Note

How bout sum Toby x Kati fluffyness

Today was going to be an interesting day. For one, it wasn’t even day, it was the middle of the night. Two, two people stalked through New York seeing if the hideout was here. They came through central park, in the warehouse district listening out. Toby had everything up, a mask over his face and hood up with goggles over his eyes. Being honest, he looks like a typical cyberpunk wanna be a kid, which worked in his favor.

Katie wasn’t far behind Toby. She wasn’t as covered up as he was, only a baggy black hoodie and gloves were the only real precautions she took. She felt awkward. Traveling with another person wasn’t something she was used to, but she shrugged it off.

When they get into the warehouse district, he pulls out some bolt cutters and snips off the padlock to one of the gates. Sliding on in, he held it open for Katie to get in before heading through a window into the warehouse itself. Well, Jeff wasn’t in here. They would have to search every area until they found him. For now, it might be fun to do something else.

“S-so, wanna start a fire?” he asked, looking over to Katie. His expression was blank, but only because his entire face was covered. Katie stared at him for a moment.

“Won’t that, oh I don’t know, attract attention to us?” Katie said, crossing her arms.“Nah we will be f-fine. I even brought marshmallows,” he responds, pulling the jumbo ones out of his backpack and some sticks.

“We have to search everywhere, so why not-t enjoy it?”

Katie chuckled under her breath as she pulled down the hood of her hoodie. “You really are just up for anything, huh?”

“We don’t gotta go bac-ck for a few days unless we want to. And we have been searching for Jeff for months.” Toby pulled down his mask and his goggles up to his forehead.

“Yeah, I guess your right..” Katie looked at her surroundings. It was deadly quiet in the warehouse, you could hear a pin drop halfway across the room. “Fuck it, let’s start a fire then.”

Toby grinned and opened up the wound on the side of his face with it, splitting it which caused it to bleed some down his chin. Fucker didn’t feel a damn thing either. Only itched sometimes. “Fuck yeah! Okay! We c-can contain it if we want, but find wood and p-p-pile it here!” His excitable nature burst through him as he took off away from Katie looking for things to burn.

Katie smiled at how excited he seemed to become. She shook her head and started to gather wood, old cardboard, anything around this place that would burn with ease. Soon enough a sizable pile was made.

“Welp, I’m ready to light this thing when you are!” Katie said as she put her hands into her pockets.

Toby grinned wide and pulled out a lighter and some matches. He broke the lighter over the pile they made, giving it the fuel it needed to light. Then struck at least three matches and tossing them into the pile, watching it burn and build up to a roaring flame. “Great!”

“So is this what you always do for fun?” Katie asked as she watched the flames get bigger.

“Yep! Fire is always a fun way to pass time!”

Katie smirked. “I have never seen you this excited before.” She leaned up against a wall behind them. ‘He has to be some type of pyromaniac for sure.’ was all Katie could think as she watched him look at the fire.

Toby didn’t even hear her, his eyes reflecting the fire causing them to glow. His body does twitch a little bit every now and then to his tics, but he stayed still otherwise. His attention span can only last so long before bringing out the marshmallows with metal sticks. The smoke didn’t smell nice due to what is being burned, but it’s better than a dead body.

Katie sat in silence watching him and their surroundings as she played with a pocket knife that was in her pocket. “It smells like ass in here.” she joked as she ran her hand through her hair.

“Got that right.” He toasted a marshmallow and ate it, immediately regretting that decision as he spat it out on the fire. “Tastes like ass too.” Over the few weeks of training, Katie would have noticed Toby is distant from everyone, and an asshole to boot. Then discovered that it was a common theme amongst everyone in the mansion too. Him more so. Toby groaned out and tossed the metal rod into the fire, watching glow hot. His eyes sparkled as he grinned. “So, shall w-we try to get to a higher point and look out for old J-Jeff?”

Katie got up with a sigh. “Yeah, guess so. There’s nothing else to do in this shit hole, let’s go” she said as dusted off her jeans and flipped her hood back up. “Ya wanna put it out or just leave it here?” Katie asked, nodding towards the fire.

“Let is spread, not like it is doing anything wrong,” Toby responded, wondering over to a half-broken ladder. Cupping his hands, he makes a motion for her to step up so she can grab on. If she can climb up, then it will hold his weight.

“True,” Katie said she walked over to him and stepped up, grabbing the ladder. It creaked a bit but held up. Katie climbed the ladder with plenty of speed and waited for him.

Toby jumped up, grasping onto the rusted ladder pulling himself up. “Worst thing to happen is it s-spreads and sets fire to the district. Oh nooooo.” His voice oozed sarcasm with a bitter undertone. The fire at least lit up the area around them from below.

Katie smiled at the thought of setting everything ablaze and creating chaos, but that would have to wait. “Cmon let’s get outta here.” She said as she gave the fire below them one last glance.

“S-so we are going to see how good you are with rooftop running and climbing-g.” Toby stays, looking around before finding more ways to get up the large building. It wasn’t easy, but the two would get to the roof of the warehouse overlooking the district. He wasn’t particularly talkative, but that’s normal for him.

“Alright.“ Climbing was nothing Katie wasn’t used to already but rooftop running was a bit new to her.“With you being so short I don’t t-think you can parkour really well,” Toby told to her when they get onto the rooftop. He kind of did this because he loves heights, being up away from the ground to oversee everything below him. Kinda helped with him being as tall as he is. The proxy boy looked around the complex, squinting his eyes to see in the darkness. He could see better than most thanks to his job and his boss, but it was still hard being human. What he was looking for was moved, if anyone else was in any of the warehouses around here.Katie rolled her eyes.

“Gee thanks..” she grumbled. She stood beside Toby looking around. Not like it would’ve helped, with her eyesight being as bad as it is. “Ya see anything?”

“Not much, to be honest, I don’t t-think the guy would be here. A large city, lots of people. To easy to find here.” He kept looking around, not seeing much. “Bah! Fuck it! Wanna go find some poor asshole and rob him?”

Katie perked up to his question, smirking. “Oh hell yes!” Katie was always up for causing havoc, no matter the situation.

“Next question. Wanna find someone around here or rob a rich person and set their house on fire?” What is with this boy and fire tonight? No matter, let the pyromaniac by the pyro. “If they have a bunch of trees around, we can get t-through and away before the cops show up!”

“I’m choosing the one with a quick getaway. Jail ain’t that fun.” Katie responded in jest. It didn’t matter what they did, as long as she had something to do she was happy. Regardless of who it was with. Toby grinned wide, pulling up his mask again and his goggles down as he looked over the edge of the building. It wasn’t the highest thing, and he has jumped from higher before. Looking over to Katie, he jumped over the edge and fell down the five stories to the ground, grabbing onto a few things to try and slow his descent. Katie watched him

“Jesus fuck, dude..” she mumbled. Well, she sure as hell wasn’t doing that. Katie found her own way down, might not have been as quick as Toby’s, but it didn’t take long either. She met him back where he landed. “Ready to go raise hell?”

When he got down he was rubbing his arm rather that felt stiff. But when she finally gets down he walks beside her with a limp in his step. Didn’t seem to feel it all that much. And it was a very long walk to the richer part of the city.It didn’t take long for Katie to notice the limp.

“Uh, you alright there?” She had noticed how Toby had always seemed to ignore injuries before but never asked about since it wasn’t her business. But that didn’t stop her from being curious.

“Yeah, completely fine. Why y-you feeling weak already?” he retorted, looking over towards her. He didn’t seem to notice at all that anything was different in what he was doing.

“I’m fine, you’re the one who’s limpin, smartass “ she was quick to reply. She was still a bit surprised by how he managed to not even notice that he was walking with a limp.

Toby shrugged and continued with her walking. He wanted to call a cab, or get something but not like he had any money for this. Well, a little, but not a whole lot. That is why he wanted to rob the place, get jewelry or something to pawn off later on.

The way they were going, this was gonna take more time than Katie was willing to waste. It was almost pretty much early morning by now, so everyone around here had to be asleep. “Why don’t we just steal a car or some shit? I know how to hot-wire a car, and it’d be a hell of a lot easier than walking all the way there.”

“If you know how to do that, t-then, by all means, do it. I can’t drive well,” he responds, looking around in the area that they are at. Okay, so it might still be possible to pull off the heist that they are thinking. They were out there about 10pm, and they were walking and everything for a few hours. So it must have been 2am the latest. Only a couple of hours until dawn. It didn’t take long for Katie to pick out a red pickup truck, now it was time for her least favorite part. She hit the driver side window as hard as she could with her elbow, cracking it. It wasn’t until she hit it a second time did it break. Reaching into the car door she unlocked and opened it. After a minute or two of her cursing to herself under her breath, she finally got the car started and hopped into the driver’s seat. “Cmon, get in.”

Toby opened the door and hopped in after she finished, pulling on the seat belt out of reaction and clicking it into place. His eyes wandered around, not seeing anyone notice that they stole the truck. This all seemed to easy of a night. It put him on edge.

Katie buckled her own seat belt before driving off. She was pretty sure the drive was going to be a quiet one, but she was ok with it, she liked quiet drives. Katie hoped the heist would be worth it in the end. And it was a quiet ride, Toby looking out of the window as the buildings pass by. He’s crouched in the seat, knees up closer to him because of his height and having to scoot down to fit. This is one reason he didn’t want to take a car, he never fits in them unless they are huge. It took around another half hour to get to the richer part of the district. Now they had to find a house that would allow a quick getaway. “If you see a good house to target, tell me.”

Toby kept a sharp eye out, checking out the houses around them seeing which had the largest cluster of trees. It wasn’t long before he told Katie to stop in front of a smaller mansion in comparison to the rest. It was white and black, the sprawled wide and out with three stories. In the back was a cluster of thick trees planted for decoration than anything else, or shade in the hot summer.

“Found it. Ready to go?” he asked.“I’m as ready as I can be” Katie replied as she parked the car on the side of the road. She got out of the truck and waited for him. “Where should we go in through?”

“You think I thought of that? We are just gonna scout o-out the bedroom and raid in there. Smash, grab, light, go. Kill only if needed-d, or for f-fun. Keep in mind how Slender will think on it.” he says, opening up the door. Yep, that was his plan. Smash and grab then bolt. It should take a bit for the cops to get here anyway, and if they take care of that inside, who cares?

“Sounds good to me..” was Katie’s only response. She hoped these people weren’t having a shitty day because oh boy was it about to get shittier for them. She wondered what he meant by what Slender will think of it, but she shrugged it off.

Toby looked around and nodded, crouching down to sneak around to the back of the building away from the street. It had a nice open space, but no easy way up to the second story. He looked back at Katie and nodded, making motions for them to get in she could get on his shoulders. Breaking a window on the lower floor might not be the best idea due to that is ripe for alarms.

Katie went over to Toby, making sure to keep her head down to avoid being seen. She got onto his shoulders to reach a higher up window. Katie was all too ready to grab what they needed, and go. Time wasn’t on their side either, it would be daylight pretty soon, and they needed to be gone before that.

“Take care of it and get inside, then see if you can toss s-something down for me to climb up. Unless you think you are sneaky enough to grab shit and get out while I keep watching.” Toby whispered, a loud whisper at that.

“I’ll go in alone, it’ll be quicker that way.” She would be in and out, in no time at all. She had done stuff like many times before, so what could possibly go wrong? Well, other than police showing up, or someone waking up and seeing her, etc. “If you see something what’re you gonna do to alert me?”

“Break a window. Nothing else can go wrong at t-that point.” He responded, pushing her up further despite his bad leg. Still couldn’t feel anything wrong with it. Perks of being a Slender proxy.“True.” Finally being able to reach the window, she trie to lift it open to see if it was unlocked, and it was. Unsurprising for an upper-level window. Katie was in the house in seconds. She went into one of the bedrooms, that’s usually where the stuff that was worth anything was.

Toby pushed her up and through, helping her sneak in and get situated in the quiet. Meanwhile, he went and gathered branches, putting them against the back of the home away from the street. He even made sure to not put it under a window either. Taking out his lighter, he put it to the branches lighting them on fire. Kindling them, he built it up more and more as he ran back and forth getting branches to make it bigger. Hopefully, no one could see him.

Katie saw what appeared to be a woman fast asleep in bed. She decided against offing her, she didn’t have that type of time to waste. She went for the purse she saw on the dresser and went through it. Katie could already smell the smoke from outside and it wouldn’t be soon until the smell woke the lady up too. Finding the woman’s wallet, she grabbed all the money that was in it and grabbed all the jewelry she could before heading out of the room.

Toby kept fanning the fire, letting it spread out and around the house. It caught onto more things, and onto the ground around it to spread more. Good, good! He was getting excited, looking up hoping Katie was grabbing a bunch of things. Jewelry would be best, able to be sold at a pawn shop on the shady side of town on the other side of the country with no questions asked.

Katie shoved the money in her back pocket and held onto the jewelry in her hoodie pocket. She got what they came here for, now it was time to get the hell out. She went back to the window she got through. It was a little high up but she could make it down without breaking anything. Or, we’ll, that was the theory at least. She jumped out of the window, rolling as she landed. It took her a sec to stand up. “That hurt a little more than I thought it would…” she mumbled to herself as she rubbed her back a bit.

Toby stood back as he saw a figure in the window. He didn’t know who it was until Katie came speeding down and rolling. Wasn’t the quietest in the world, with the smoke everybody in the house must have woken up by now. He gave a quick nod and bolted to the dense trees, fading into them as he shifted from this reality back to the Domain.

Katie followed him, hearing a faint panicked scream behind them. ‘Guess she finally woke up.’ Katie thought to herself. Welp didn’t matter now, wasn’t her problem anymore. They got what they needed. The thought of whether the residents of that place made it out or not didn’t cross her mind once.

#Anonymous #ticci toby #katie owens #creepypasta #ask creepypasta #creepy pasta #fanfiction #fanfic #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fandom #cpoc

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far-aboveground · 5 years

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Story

Deep underground, where memories thrive, anger is restless, but it soon it will die.

Underground, Michael Afton creeps, reliving the horrid past of his childhood: His father’s circus.

I never understood why it was underground. Much harder to have fun down here, in this dark, damp chasm. I could practically hear the sound of sickly spiders crawling up and down these walls, struggling to find food down here. It’s been abandoned for years. These vent walls are cold. I am not surprised, though. They’re the only air intake for this place.

Pushing my sore body from the vent opening, I hear clattering and scraping.

There is a voice ringing through my head, it’s been there since I found out about dad’s... Accident. Ottoville, Ohio’s big “Springlock Tragedy.” It was one of the biggest things that have happened this century... This and hearing of “William Afton’s mysterious underground project, never finished.”

That’s where I come in. As soon as they found out about this place, everyone’s been wanting to come down here. Of course, I can’t just let them... Knowing some of the fucked up stuff my dad did, I don’t think I could stand having my name stained with his horrible deeds again.

The voice speaks softly, “Administer a controlled shock.” I shake it off.

Looking up, I see two identical platforms, each with two buttons. One button is blue, and has a little sun on it. The other is red, a lightning bolt covering it’s center. Must be the controlled shock.

My reflection stares at me from the two dimmed windows next to me. They hide what is on the other side.

I take a deep breath, and slam my hand upon the blue button.

A light blares from behind the once dark window, reflecting against checkered floors. A sudden scream of anger and agony blares through the thick glass, “WILLIAM!” followed by the whipping of chains against stone. I jump back, my hand slipping onto the red button. Shit. A bright blare of static rips from bolts in the ceiling, shocking the source of the voice. It screams again, pain ripping through the dense darkness.

I pull myself away from the button, gripping the hand that did the horrid deed. “Good.” I hear that horrid voice say. I shake it off, placing my shaky hand on the blue button again. The light engulfs the room, and I drift my eyes along the room.

Decorations are spewed across the walls, like Krusty The Clown vomited while on LSD. across the way, a large stage is set up, and there I see him: A man, dressed in a white and pink suit, his curly and matted hair matching. His face is covered in dirt, and he is on his knees. His once body-conforming suit now was too large for him, how long has it been since he has eaten?

I bang on the glass, grabbing his attention. As he looks up, drips of blood fall from between his painted lips.

Holy shit, oh my god, what the fuck? His shoulders tense as he weakly lifts his arms, revealing rusting chains wrapped around his wrists. I inhale sharply, barely able to keep looking at him. He looks horrid, like a fox barely nailed by a semi truck, struggling on the sidewalk. His pale skin is more orange than anything, like he hasn’t seen the Sun in years... Looking at his condition, he probably hasn't. I press my fingers against the wall, searching for a way inside. I feel my fingers brush a vent door, much like the one I entered from.

I keep pushing it, and it’s hinges creak as it opens. I call through the vent, “Hey, man, I’ll be there in a second... Stay calm?”

I didn’t mean for that last bit to sound like a question, but I’m panicking so... I hear a booming voice call back, laced with agony and a bit of “I’m choking on my own blood,” “Please, you’ve got to help us!” I slowly shuffle myself into the vent opening, struggling to squeeze my hips through.

Releasing myself from the other end, I shift uncomfortably through the dark, slowly pulling my flashlight from my belt. I shift the beam into the direction of the stage, there he sits. He is on his knees, and I can more clearly make out his features. He seems to be around my age, mid 20s or so. He has a very defined chin, even when he isn’t starved. He has the makings of red stubble on his chin, greatly contrasting his stark white hair, which I can now see is dyed pink at the tips, like an Ombre. He has eye bags which are doused in tears, obvious to me by his red cheeks and watering eyes.

I shift around to his back, where his hands are chained. I reach for the lock, no budging. I grip my flashlight by the handle and smack it against a weak part of the chain, the rust shatters, sending pieces flying.

The man lurches forward surprised by his sudden freedom. He pulls his hands forward, rubbing his wrists, red from the metal. He stands, his legs giving in slightly. As soon as his wobbling stopped, he sprinted toward the vent, dashing through it and into the other side. I follow close behind, confusion dragging me along.

By the time I squeeze through the vent, he is already halfway through to the other party room, yelling out names.

“Ballora! Ballora!” He calls, running into the room.

“I can hear you... Foxy?” A feminine voice calls as a few spotlights follow a frail woman, her legs shaking from standing on her toes. A ballerina. Her ankles are chained, just like.... “Foxys” were. He begins to viciously claw at the chain with his painted nails, to no avail. I jog over, slamming the light on her chain as well. To the next one.

He’s in a storage closet, and he seems to be in much worse condition than the other two. He has gone insane, trapped in that room by himself, talking to a puppet.

Dear god, my dad... My DAD did this, trapped these people here.

There was one more. I could hear them all whispering about her, whether or not we should free her at all. I can’t just leave her down here.

#fnaf #main storyline #William afton #Michael afton #sister location #Funtime foxy #Funtime freddy #baby #ballora

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yukaigenohogosha · 6 years

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The Bullet and The Blade... Prt 2

A Detroit Become Human Mafia AU FanFic: This one maybe a little longer than the the first one. And I want to keep it that way...

Excuse the Grammatical and factual errors and miss conceptions. It’s just for fun. Also NSFW and very gay with a hint of gore, angst, and foul language. Viewer discretion is advised.

Prev Prts : Prt 1 Next Prt: Prt 3

They’re going to take the bull by the horns. But is that a good Idea?

Gavin’s Charger hums as he reaches Ferndale pass the subways and buildings. Gavin taps his steering wheel to the beat of Ariana Grande on the radio. Lucky no one’s there to watch him lip-sync and bop to Greedy. He’d rather shoot himself than let anyone know that. Tina does and it is torture.

But at least this is able to calm him. Going to Jericho wasn’t exactly on his top priority. In fact, being in someone else’s territory is unsettling enough. But like Hank said, Jericho might give proper backup. Even though we have no idea who they’re dealing with, we’re not taking any chances.

Gavin turns a bend and reaches a ship. As he got out after of the charger, Gavin approached the old clunk of rusted metal that still held Cargo on it’s deck. It stood completely still in the midday and yet Gavin kept getting chills. He looks around and see’s Hank’s Sedan driving through.

Hank got out with Tina following suite. Gavin felt slightly relieved. At least he’s not doing this alone.

“What?” Tina smirked calling out to Gavin as she walked closer. “Too chicken to do it alone?”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “You wish. As I would recall, I had to drag a certain Someone to the edge cuz that certain Someone wouldn’t stop crying.”

“It was one time and I had no idea that there was a net!”

Before Gavin can muster a comeback, Hank clipped both of them at the back of their heads. “Knock it off and move. Believe it or not, I got other shit to do!”

Gavin rubbed the back of his head and sticks his tongue out at him. Tina just shook her head and followed orders.

All three walk toward the edge of the rusty catwalk that seems to be used as a connection from the docks to the decks but now stood a rusty broken bridge that halfway to the ship.

But none of them minded it. They weren’t gonna using it to cross anyway. As the trio looked over the edge, Gavin’s having second thoughts.

Tina leaned in to Gavin “Bwaaak bwak bwak. Bacawk!” mimicking the flapping of the bird with her arms.

“Fuck you” Gavin adds before he see Hank disappear.

Seeing Hank go first, makes the whole thought trying to follow suite a lot easier.

Tina beats Gavin to it and moves in to enter Jericho.

Gavin watches Tina do a mid air back flip before disappearing in to the darkness.

“Show off...”

Gavin takes a deep breath and pockets his shades in to his inner pocket before finally taking the initiative.

He jumps.

***

“I don’t understand why they can’t just install a door like a normal person.”

Hank scoots out of the net. His suit wrinkled and his hair messed up. the net bounces around as Tina and Gavin reach the net. Tina was giggling like a child and Gavin was struggling to get his footing.

“Total rush!” Tina shouts as she looks back at Gavin before she rolls out of the net.

Gavin, after failing to find balance, gives up and mimics Tina by rolling off the net and hitting the ground in unceremonious thud.

Gavin groan and stood up to brush off dust from his jacket. shoved his hands in his pocket. three walked on as they climb the flight of stairs upwards into the cabin. Tina and Gavin softly wheeze after stair number 9 while Hank seems to be doing just fine.

“You move fast for an old man.” Gavin mustered through his paved breaths.

Hank smirked as he leaned on a the railing. “You guys just gotta work on you Cardio.” And continued with more stride. 53 and feeling fine.

Tina and Gavin grunt through 12 more flight before reaching the Hull. Despite what the outside of ship looks like, the interior looks modern and recently upgraded. With open windows, soft redwood coloured walls and men and women in white suits.

Walking behind Hank, Gavin can see that he’s looking for someone. Hank then smiles as he sees a senior in wheelchair who seems to be strapped to machine that lifts him 6 feet off the floor. Hank starts walking towards him who’s occupied with painting a gigantic mural, a dynamic revision of the the Detroit River in the sunset.

“Got too much free time on your hands, old man?” Hank spoke up. The said “Old man” turned and smiled “Hank Motherfuckin Anderson!”. The machine descended until he reached ground and he wheeled himself out of it towards Hank. “Hows it been, old timer?” Hank bent down to give him a strong hug.

The man return the hug before pulling away. “Well, retirement’s been nice but having nothing to do is getting old.” He cracked before looking at his master piece. “still, it’s nice.” He turned back round to the three. “But I know you didn’t come here to see me. Especially knowing that you hate falling into that net.”

“Speaking of which, Get a door.”

“Not my call anymore”

“Oh right, You know where Markus is, Carl?”

“Check the captain’s cabin. That’s where he usually is these days. Being the new leader of Jericho get’s busy as it is.”

“Thanks. Anyway, nice work on the wall.”

“Shut up, you can’t tell red from fucking purple.”

Hank give a low warm chuckle before turning around waving the Carl from behind. Carl just shakes his head and get’s back to his mural.

Gavin’s head is solely straight on on the task at hand. That is, until Tina elbowed him and signaled him with her eyes. Gavin turn to the direction she was insinuating and saw him. Through the rush of people in white suits, a man stood out. In Gavin’s eyes at least.

“Hey, Um... I’m going for a piss. Catch up with you later.”

Before Hank could even respond, He was off. tailing a man in white suit and blond hair. His eyes fixated to this person like a he was prey. Keeping safe distance making sure his remains undetected.

All the way up to the forecastle. He watches this man look out into the distance. Breathing in the fresh air and feeling the calming breeze and sun. Gavin marvels at the man, smiling behind a container.

“I know you’re there.”

Gave froze. He sees the man looking straight at him with a knowing smile. Gavin smiled back and shows himself.

“Hey, Si.”

“Hey Reed.”

Gavin raises an eyebrow “You still using my mom’s name?”

“I thought you like that.”

He approaches the Simon. The soft baby blue eyes staring back at him makes Gavin smile ever so pleasantly.

“Yeah, I do. You look well”

“Yup, got to be right hand man. Now that Markus is leader.”

Gavin let’s out small chuckle.

“It’s yeah, not yup. Stop sounding like a T-ball preschooler. You’re in the big leagues now.”

Simon pulls out an earnest smile that melts Gavin heart.

“Oh, right!” Simon turns to his left side and pulls out a double edged dagger.

Gavin’s face drops “Don’t make me say it...”

Simon then pouts and looks at Gavin in expectation. Gavin could only sigh.

“Let me see what you have...”

Simon bolts away pass Gavin. “A KNIFE!”

“NO!”

And they’re off. Two grown adults playing cat and mouse chase, recalling fond childhood memories. Till they’re age caught up with them and their legs gave out. They start panting and laughing like two idiots with nothing better to do.

“So, what brings you to Jericho?” Simon finally catching his breath and stood up straight before fixing his suit.

Gavin completely forgot as he too stood up. “Now that you mentioned it, We got to head off to see Markus now.” start walking over to the Captain’s cabin

Simon tilts his head but follows suite. He then give Gavin a pat on the back.

“It’s good to see you again, Reed.”

Gavin’s heart made a slight lurched between happy and hurt.

“It’s good to see you too, Si.”

***

As the two walk leisurely to the cabin reminiscing about old times, a woman slams open the door startling them both. She looks up and furrows her brows at Simon.

“Good, I was about to get you. Made my job easier.” Her tone serious and hard, but this was North we’re talking about. Never not an angry moment. “Get in.” She moved aside to grant them entry.

Simon and Gavin looked at each other before entering. Hank and Tina sitting opposite to the desk and a man with tanned skin and two different coloured eyes. As Gavin observed, he can see that this calm yet determined figure of Markus is the reason why Carl handed Jericho to him. If anything, he’s impressed.

“Everyone’s here then?” Markus looks around before continuing. “Good. Josh, If you please.” He looks over to another man African american man in white no older than 25.

Josh pulled out some files and looked over to the rest. “I have a bit of information on about the cut signature on John. It’s not much and some look doubtful but comparing them with Elijah’s notes, I’m able to certain some of the facts.”

“Well?” Gavin getting somewhat impatent.

Josh hesitated before proceeding. “A katana blade.”

The room became silent before Gavin, like a complete moron, started laughing hysterically.

For a good 5 minutes.

Eventually it died down slowly as he looked at everyone else. Catching Hank face palming and Tina cringing on the spot. He realized something.

“Oh shit, you’re serious.”

Josh huffed lightly. “The brand of the blade is still illusive, but through the others we found-”

“Others?” Tina sat up. Shocked.

Josh looked back at Tina. “It seems John wasn’t the only victim.” Pulls other files to Tina and Hank. He offered Gavin but he promptly refused.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Hank looks into one of the files. “Hold on, some of these people were shot.”

Gavin looks over at the file in Hank’s hand and as if he read his mind, Hank held out the file to Gavin. Gavin peered into the files and Winced.

A number of individual portraits of corpses splayed out on the floor. This time, their neck and forehead shot. leaving two bullet holes and a gruesome dead stare. He closed the file. Even if it’s less gory than the first, it doesn’t make it easier to look at.

“Do we have an address to these signatures?”

“With the intel I’ve sent to Elijah, he has located a location worth noting. An establishment known as Zen Garden Towers.”

Hank now sits up “Wait a sec, you mean that hotel? On Belle Isle, Detroit River?”

They all look at Hank like he’s grown a second head. Markus tilts his head curiously. “You know something?”

Hank stand up, ready to leave. “I think I’ve got a good clue of who’s behind this.”

***

They all make it to the Zen Garden Towers. To say it was big hotel was an understatement. It had more than 40 storey and the area was bigger than the seem to make up most of the isle. It’s a little sad, Gavin thought. Remembering the Belle as a conversed isle park only to be turned into a luxurious bed and breakfast.

They walked in to the futuristic interior of blue and white with Hank and Markus up front and the rest following behind. At the receptionist, Hank spoke up.

“I’m here to see Madam Stern.”

The receptionist calm as ever “Do you have an appointment?”

“Call her up and say “Anderson” is here.” He said grimly

As the Receptionist did as so, Gavin leaned over to Hank.

“How many fucking people do you know in Detroit?!”

“If you’ve lived long enough to make as many connections as I have, some names will stick.”

The Receptionist then nods and hangs up the phone. She stands up and leave a will return soon notice on the counter. “This way please” She walks out to guide them to the elevator.

As they got into the uncomfortably spacious elevator, three men can be seen entering the lobby. “Hold the elevator!” One of them yelled out as they walk towards it.

The Receptionist was holding down the open button, when Gavin out of pure idiotic mischief, decides to smack the hand away and close the doors. The trio seeing this, start sprinting across the lobby. The tall one of the group starts getting exceptionally closer, which makes Gavin press the button continuously.

But in the end, the glass doors closes only for the man to slam his hand on surface, so hard the sound slightly resonates in the elevator. Delaying the ascend. Gavin pulls satisfied grin on the mans face as he looks into the cold Ice blue stare full of annoyance.

“Take the stairs...” He mouths as the elevator starts to leaves.

***

The low elevator hum puts Gavin in a better mood than he thought, he glances over to Simon who returns them before rolling his eyes and silently chuckles. Tina on the other hand is not amused. She leans over to him again and whispers silently.

“Seriously?! All that to impress Clueless Mc-Blondielocks?!”

Gavin jumps slightly. He eyes Simon, hoping he hadn’t heard anything. He didn’t

“Get off my tits, Ching ching!”

Tina huffed and left it at that. Surprised Hank didn’t sound his opinions.

the elevator dinged as they reached the top floor. the roof. What they saw was beyond words. An oriental garden filled with a built in lake and Asian influenced paths, bridges, and a lake island with a rose trellis.

Standing on the lake island is an African woman in cyan and turquoise robes. She had an elegant air to her as she tends to the roses.

She turns and smile. But it seems somewhat malevolent than sincere.

“Anderson...”

“Stern”

She turns around, focusing on the roses again.

“What brings you here?”

“You know what...”

Sterns stops. And turns again.

“I do...”

Gavin’s hands readied on his holster. But Hank signals him to stand down.

“Which one of your men did it?”

“One of my sons. Richard.”

“Why...”

The elevator dings again indicating someone is entering the floor.

“Speak of the devil. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Everyone simultaneously turns around. The colour in Gavin’s face drained to pale.

The trio earlier, walked in. With the tall one in the looking straight at Gavin with his blue icy stare and his right hand gripped on to a katana pommel strapped to his belt.

“Oh, Fuck me...” Gavin thought.

Because “Richard” did not look amused.

End of Prt 2 ----> Prt 1 , Prt 3

#detroit become human #gavin900 #connor x hank #elijahxconnor-60 #mafia au #gavin and elijah are siblings #Tina Chen #dbh #markus x simon #carl

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 6 years

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Keeping his chin to his chest, Levi played at being unconscious. His arms had finally gone past painful and started to go into uselessly numb and his fangs were pulsing with the need to feed on whatever delicious scent was finally reaching his nose. It was a struggle. His instincts telling him to free himself, to find the source of the smell and to drink every last sweet drop. That wasn't the only issue. The scent had him rock hard. Aroused to a degree that went beyond normal blood lust, he wanted to be covered in that sweet red blood. Shit. This wasn't working. If he gave in any further to his blood lust, he wasn't going to be able to rescue his team. Casting a glance to make sure they were all still unconscious, Levi gripped the rusted hook with one hand, lifting his entire weight as he did so as to free the chain enough to unhook it, before dropping lightly to the floor. If they were anything like he'd suspected they were, he could be expecting unwanted visitors any second now. Without the tension of the hook caught in the chain links, it was laughably easy to slide them from his wrists, before carefully placing them down on the floor. Leaving the others chained up, Levi crept across the barn, wincing as one of the floorboards creaked loudly. If they didn't know he was awake and moving before, they certainly did now. Rushing to stand beside the closed door, Levi held his breath, listening closely as footsteps finally came close. This would be so much better if he had his blades. Irritatingly slow the door handle turned, the door groaning as it opened. With his stance lowered, Levi narrowed his eyes. There wasn't time for mercy or questions, not now that he could clearly smell that their captors were indeed the same breed as him. Logically he knew he couldn't be the only one, but to have fallen prey to a whole nest of them. He was going to need a hell of a lot of luck to get them all out of this alive "Ones down! Alert the others!" Shoving the door, the first vampire stumbled, separated from his shitty yelling friend. Going straight for the throat, Levi wrapped an arm securely around the vampires neck, while kicking his knee out, dropping the man halfway to floor. Kicking out the second knee, his grip shifted, grabbing the man by the cheek as he wrenched violently, snapping the man's neck like it nothing. The whole process over in less than an instant, the vampire dead on the floor before he'd even realised. One down... Behind him the door bounced back open, three more vampires lunging at him "I don't care what she says, you're so fucking dead" "I would rather be dead than spend another moment on this hovel you call a home. Didn't anyone ever teach you to be careful, and not to draw attention" "The only attention we've drawn is yours, and you'll be dead soon. Just like that brown haired brat. Did you taste him? His blood isn't like anything we've ever had. We wanted to make a real meal of him, but she says we need to wait" "Who is she?" Conversation was up. All three coming for him at once, and they definitely had the advantage. They were all freshly fed, where he was weakened and becoming hungrier by the second, the blood dripping from his attackers lips and teeth stirring his base hunger as it was redder more appealing than he'd known possible. With no need to hold back and the unspoken works that the loser would be decided by death, Levi lashed out. Dodging and weaving, striking without mercy. He might have been smaller than them, but he knew how to use his body to his advantage, and he knew how to deliver the killing blow without feeling guilt. Tearing the throat out of the first victim with his teeth, that beautiful blood graced his lips, its taste over ridding the taste of trash. He knew the instant it touched his tongue that it belonged to Eren. No wonder he'd been so drawn to it. No wonder the others had drunk it down greedily as they'd scoffed their meal. All it took was the smallest of drops to feed the fire that burned inside his kind. Tearing the dead vampires knife from his hand, he rounded the others with a growl. Both standing their looking like idiots now that their brother had been felled. They hadn't expected this. They the breed of gutter trash that made up for their short comings with numbers, much less skilled than he'd originally perceived. Laughing in a kind of hysterical delight, Levi leapt forward, striking out he did. The knife slipped through the second vampires throat as if sliding through butter, and bright arterial spray rained down on him. It was revolting and exhilarating. He didn't have to hide his true nature. Turning to run, the third vampire barely took three steps before Levi jumped on him, driving the blade down into his nape like one would with a werewolf. Screaming in pain, it's body collapsed beneath him, Levi riding it down before ripping the blade free. No amount of blood could heal the wound, so there was no need to do anything other than let the vampire choke to death on his own blood. Three down. Arming himself with the small array of weapons on the three corpses, Levi finally backtracked to free his companions of their chains, laying them all towards the back of the room, with the hopes they'd know well enough to search for an exit rather than follow him. They should. He'd drummed it into them all over and over. If they didn't understand the simple fact that he had no need for extra baggage, they wouldn't be on his team. Leaving them, Levi kept his steps light as he exited the room, following the stench of filth still hanging in the air, until the stench finally turned to that coppery tang of blood. With his back against the wall, Levi closed his eyes and concentrated on the vibrations and movements on the wooden floor of the structure. There were at least 5 more of his kind inside that room... he could take them, but there had to be more in on this side venture of traveller killing. No doubt, the whole village would be found culpable if pressed. With two carefully placed steps Levi was in the room, his prey feasting on Eren's prone form. The kid had been torn open, his body surrounded by a sea of blood. Revolting. Whoever had trained these vampires had no sense of decorum or decency. They might have human bodies, but they were all feral mutts, waiting to be put out of their misery. Drunk on blood, and focused on their feed, Levi crept across the room, slitting the throat of the closest vampire. In dumb horror, the other four looked to him, baring their teeth over his unwanted presence and the interruption of their meal. Being so close to Eren allowed Levi to see that almost ever part of Eren's skin was marred with bite marks, the boy's chest barely rising and falling. His anger swelled. The kid was a shitty brat, but he had spirit and was more use to them alive. It wasn't like he hadn't intended to save Eren, but giving it some kind of justification helped to see Eren as more than food. As the four vampire rose, Levi attacked. The fatter of the feeders fell to his blade, but the three others showed more intelligence, moving as pack and striking as one. Stabbing the one approaching from the front, the other two both ran their blades into his sides, causing an involuntary scream to escape his lips. Rising his blade, the one Levi's stolen blade was embedded in laughed opened, before slamming his knee up into Levi's crotch and dropping him to kneel. Sometimes being a male really wasn't that great... grabbing him by the hair, the vampire yanked his head up, forcing him to bare his throat. How dare this filthy trash even think to touch him? Squatting down, the vampire spat at Eren's body "Bring the mistress. She'll want to know he's free" "You'll never make it" "You're not the first of our kind we've hunted. I told her we should just slit your throat and string you up like the military pig you are, but she had other plans..." Enraged, Levi ripped the two blades from his sides, adrenaline fuelling him as he plunged them both into the talking vampire neck. It was dead before it could even realise what happened. Rising as he pivoted, the blades were torn free, as the other two vampire bolted for the door. This was almost fun. Hurling both blades, his aim rang true as they lodged in the wood beside the door "How about we talk, or I'll gut you like your friends?" "You can't even move old man" "You're half-breed scum. Was it your slut mother or your alcoholic father that disgraced our blood?" "Why don't you take a guess?" "I bet it was your slut mother... women are always weak like that. Offer up a little money and they sway on the spot" Once again, he'd been wrong. Levi could honestly say he'd seen horse shit with more intelligence than what he was finding here. Ignoring the blood running freely down his sides, he rose to his full height and walked across the room as he slipped another stolen blade out "So for the son of a slut and an alcoholic, you could say I know how to have a good time" One vampire bolted, so Levi let him run. The other grabbed both blades from the wall, assuming a fighting stance "You're dead and so are all your friends" "Really? Because all I see are shitty brats in need of a good lesson in manners" Lowering his own stance, Levi took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he waited for that first move. He'd seen it a million times. The cocky look in the eyes just before the first jab was thrown. It was almost laughably predictable.

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mylittlejoanie · 7 years

Text

Come Back Home [V]

Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Six

Plot: A late-night train ride leads you to something unexpected.

Genre: Angst/Suspense - CanonAU (mentions of violence)

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Reader

I walked across the crowded club, the deep thumping bass beat pounding in my chest. I could feel my cheeks flush from the many shots of soju I had taken, and I struggled to keep myself from stumbling down with the many bodies twisting around me.

A tall figure leaned against the bar, one arm perched on a barstool. He swept his hair out of his face effortlessly, and his hooded eyes were focused on some distant point behind me. His eyes met mine and I turned away, realizing I'd been caught staring for far too long. I looked around, and I wasn't the only one who was spellbound by this man.

He was the center of attention, he was everyone's focus. I watched him as he set his drink on the bar top, and he slowly began walking forward, his eyes fixed on my face. His features suddenly contorted as if he were in pain, and his arms stretched in front of him. He was screaming, but I couldn't hear him over the sound of the music. It was loud, too loud, and the volume kept increasing. I ran towards him, fighting to reach him, but he drifted further from me with every step I took. The faces around him wore sinister smiles and their eyes were black and cold. Hands pulled at his clothing, ripping away his shirt, tearing through his skin with sharp nails.

Everyone wants a piece of Sehun, and I can’t do anything besides watch as the wolves tear him to shreds.

I walked quickly through the narrow alley, gravel crunching underneath my boots. It was a cold and rainy evening, and the steady drip of water bounced off the brick walls and echoed into the night. It was silent aside from the sound of my footsteps, and the sound of Junmyeon’s.

I was walking on autopilot, hardly paying any attention to my surroundings. Junmyeon was several strides ahead of me. He walked with purpose, stopping every few steps to look behind us, as if he suspected that we were being followed.

He finally stopped in front of a rusted metal door at the end of the alley. Strips of red paint peeled from the front of the heavy door, and a small buzzer was bolted into the wall next to it. He pressed the buzzer and stepped back, nervously shuffling in place. My mind filled with question after question and I opened my mouth as if to speak.

I quickly closed my lips as the door opened. I felt a hand firmly wrap around my arm and pull me inside, shutting the door tightly behind me. I pulled my arm out of the strong grip it had been locked in, and I turned around.

Chanyeol was standing in front of me. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes and his hair was a messy pile on top of his head, waves gently curling over his elf-like ears. He wore a heavy look of concern on his face and his lips were twisted in an angry frown. His eyes were wide and watery; they betrayed the fear that he clearly felt.

The same fear that Sehun probably felt right now.

I was in a room filled with rows and rows of mildewed velvet seats. A large, torn screen stretched from the ceiling to the floor. We're in an abandoned movie theater, but why?

I turned to Junmyeon, seeking some form of explanation. We had hopped on the latest train from Seoul station, leaving for a location that he hadn’t bothered to tell me about. I had fallen asleep with my head pressed against the icy cold window, and I dreamt of Sehun, horrible visions that were tattooed in my mind and unable to be forgotten. Junmyeon woke me up and nearly dragged me off the train before I had a chance to see where exactly we were.

Had it really only been hours since I found out that Sehun is gone? It felt like years. Time hadn’t stopped, but it ticked by at a maddeningly slow rate. I had called the police, and then had done virtually nothing to help. They had jabbered on about “not enough information” and “false reports from fans” and used as much legal jargon as they possibly could. I told them I had letters, I told them I had proof, and I was met with a dial tone.

We’re on our own.

Junmyeon put a warm, gentle hand on my shoulder and he began to speak, pain woven into every word he spoke. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you where we were going. Chanyeol... he told me not to say anything out loud in case we were being watched." He paused, turning his gaze to Chanyeol, who gave him the slightest nod as if telling him to keep talking.

"Chanyeol.. well, when I told him that Sehun is missing, he tracked down his phone." I turned to Chanyeol, who was now standing beside me, shuffling his feet nervously.

"His phone was here. It was laying on a seat next to this." Chanyeol lifted a bag filled with popcorn. He tossed a kernel into the air and crushed it under his shoe when it hit the floor. "It's fresh, so I think whoever took him must have left his phone here today. His phone was fully charged when I found it, too. And there was a note.” He pushed a post-it note with perfect script into my hand, and I shivered as I recognized the handwriting I had seen just hours ago.

“Read between the lines.

What is that supposed to mean?” I looked at Chanyeol, who was absentmindedly thumbing through Sehun’s camera roll, all respect for privacy forgotten. He had lowered himself into one of the dusty seats and looked up at me, his usual bemused look wiped from his face. “I think it’s actually pretty simple. I think his phone has the answers. I think the journal pages were meant to fuck with you, honestly. They were meant to hurt you. They have nothing to do with where he is.” He tossed the phone in my direction and I caught it, the smooth case nearly slipping through my fingers. “The post it note was on top of his phone, so I know there’s something important in here. I don’t get what half of the shit he has in here means, but I feel like you might know.”

I found myself staring at Sehun’s notes app. Pages upon pages of notes, meticulously organized and dated. I clicked on one halfway down the list.

THINGS TO REMEMBER 14/1/16

Favorite color: baby blue, sometimes green

She sings while she washes dishes

Freckles on left leg

This note is about me, there’s no way it isn’t. My mind became flooded with memories of mornings spent over breakfast, myself making feeble attempts at small talk while Sehun stared at his phone. Had he been writing notes like this all this time? We were supposed to be nothing. He hadn’t said so, but I assumed as much when he ran away every time I showed trace of emotion. I clicked on another note with a shaky hand.

IMPORTANT 8/3/16

DO NOT ANSWER UNKNOWN CALLS

This didn’t seem remarkable, as his fans had a bad habit of calling him nonstop when his number leaked. I couldn’t count how many times he’d had to change his number over the years; they still managed to find it every time.

I saw Junmyeon and Chanyeol looking at me over the top of my glasses, and I ignored them as I poured through the endless notes Sehun had kept over the years. Notes about me, ideas for songs, the beginnings of journal entries. These notes weren’t as in depth as his journal was, but there was something special about them all the same. They were so important that he couldn’t wait to write them down with pen and paper; he had to type them out.

Oh Sehun couldn’t live in the moment. He couldn’t ever let his guard down, he couldn’t let me in, but he tried to preserve our memories all the same. Why couldn’t he have just let me in? Tears prickled my vision and I shut them out. I didn’t have time to feel anything right now.

A very recent, untitled note caught my eye, and I forced myself to push the images of Sehun’s smiling face out of my mind. We’re going to find you, baby. Just give me a sign.

STAY AWAY FROM THE TRAINEE

PINK BACKPACK

RED CAR

ORANGE SHOES

None of these things made any sense, but I remembered him mentioning a red car following him in his journals. “Chan, Myeon, I think I might be on to something here. He was scared of a red car that he saw a few times, and he mentioned the red car on one of his lists. I feel like... this has to mean that whoever took him is driving a red car!” I felt a surge of strength rush through me, and I silently thanked Sehun for slipping me a piece of the puzzle.

Junmyeon laughed, a bitter, mean sound. “A red car? That’s all you got from Sehun’s ridiculously organized bullshit? Congratulations!” He clapped once, twice, three times. He clapped slowly, never breaking eye contact. “Now all we have to do is track down every single fucking red car in South Korea. How long will that take? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a month? Sehun will be rotting in the ground by then.” Chanyeol stood up at this, his fists making perfect tight circles as he exploded at his friend.

“Listen, man, you don’t have to be such a goddamn asshole. Can’t you see how hard this is for her?” His voice echoed off the empty walls. “She’s been forced to read some really personal shit all day, stuff that she never knew about. And besides, she actually listened to Sehun. She knows stuff that you never wanted to listen to because you wanted Sehun to be strong. At least she’s getting somewhere when all you’ve done is stand around acting all high and mighty because you’re a fucking leader. Good job.”

Junmyeon raised his fist as if he were about to punch Chanyeol. His chest was heaving and shallow, ragged breaths escaped his lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t help him, I’m sorry I didn’t...” he trailed off and Chanyeol stared at him, shaking his head, not bothering to offer comfort to his hyung.

“Yeah, I’m really glad you’re sorry, but I’m not the one you owe an apology to. You owe an apology to her, and to Sehun, but we don’t have time for any of that bullshit right now. Where is Sehun’s phone?” He snatched out of my hand and began scrolling through his camera roll yet again, pausing when he reached a photo of Sehun at our high school graduation. He turned the phone to face us and we huddled together, shivering in the cold theater.

Sehun’s blonde locks feathered on his forehead, and he looked like a canary in a bright yellow blazer. He was surrounded by other students all wearing the same jacket, but one student stood out from the rest.

The girl standing next to Sehun was wearing bright orange shoes.

#kwriterskollection #sehun x reader #oh sehun #sehun #sehun angst #sehun fanfic #sehun fanfiction #sehun fic #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo #exo angst #kpop fanfiction #kpop #kpop fic #kpop fanfic

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