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justagalwhowrites · 6 months

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Yearling - Ch. 23: Search

You look for what was lost. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-22 found on Tumblr here.

AGAIN Y'ALL! PLEASE PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO THE CONTENT WARNINGS, THIS IS A ROUGH CHAPTER!!! Not as bad as 22 but it's still hard out here, OK?

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Remembered past SA (described, not reader experienced), canon-typical violence, torture, trauma responses. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 7.4k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel was numb.

The wind howled and he knew, consciously, that it was cold. That snow was catching on his hair and his beard, that the air was sharp in his lungs when he breathed, that his tears were turning to ice on his cheeks.

He knew these things.

On some level, he knew them.

He didn’t really feel them.

You had a daughter.

Get away from me!

You were in pain.

Don’t fucking touch me!

You were disgusted by him.

I don’t want anything to do with you.

He lay down on the bottom step of your porch. He wasn’t sure he could move much further than that. He couldn’t bring himself to leave you, not when you were in that much pain, not when you might do something that would get you hurt or killed.

He needed to take care of you.

Get away!

But he couldn’t do that and be close to you, not when you were terrified of him and repulsed by him.

Joel remembered the night after Simon and Ben hurt you. How you’d found comfort in him then. How you’d invited him inside, how you’d pressed your body against his, how you guided his hand to your skin. You were so soft and so warm and he could smell your shampoo on your damp hair and you let him see your skin, let him see the bruises and the scars from the men who had tried to destroy you.

You’re just like them, I trusted you and you’re just like them.

Fuck, he needed to take care of you. But he couldn’t reach you.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there. Snow melted against him at first and then settled on his clothes and, eventually, pain broke through the numbness. He hadn’t put on his gloves and his hands were in the snow and his fingers suddenly hurt and he could barely bend them.

Joel sat up slowly, the snow sloughing off of his body, and looked back toward your door.

Every light that had been on when Joel left was still on. He wondered if you’d even moved, if he went back inside if you’d let him gather you into his arms while you raged against him.

He looked at his hands.

Don’t touch me!

They were red, starting to swell. He knew he needed to get out of the cold or he’d risk permanent damage but it was hard to care.

He tried to bend his fingers, to form a fist, but his joints protested.

He needed to take care of you.

But he needed to protect you, too.

And the only way he could do that was with his hands. He couldn’t keep you safe if he couldn’t throw a punch or pull a trigger.

Joel forced himself to his feet, the act more painful than it had been any time in recent memory. He looked at your door for another moment, all but willing you to open it. To yell at him, to invite him in, to stare daggers at him. He didn’t care. Just let him look at you again, let him see that you were still breathing, that’s all he needed.

He looked at his hands again, tried to make a fist again. He couldn’t.

Get away from me!

Joel shoved his hands in his pockets and took a long, lingering look at your door before trudging home through the snow.

“Jesus, there you are,” Ellie poked her head around the corner from the kitchen for a second when he came in. “I was starting to worry, about to go to Bambi’s and just pray that you weren’t doing anything too gross because fuck that. Is it really bad out there?”

Joel tried to reply for a moment but was having a hard time finding the words. His hair and coat and jeans and boots were starting to drip onto the floor.

“Joel?” He could hear her frown. “You OK?”

He tried to answer but it was like his voice was snagged on the lump in his throat, one that he was having a hard time swallowing around.

Ellie came out of the kitchen, holding a mug, her eyebrows knitted together and her eyes went wide when she saw him.

“Holy shit,” she set the mug down and ran over to him. “What the fuck happened? Are you OK? Here…”

She took his hand and led him to the table. He followed behind her, body moving slowly, and he let her push him down into his usual chair.

“Here, you’re gonna get sick in that wet shit,” she said, unbuttoning his coat. He let her, his arms limp as she pulled the coat from him. “Joel. Hey.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face, searching his eyes with her own, a look of almost panic on her face. “Come on old man, you having a heart attack on me or something? Just because we’re not out in the wilderness anymore doesn’t mean you get to just fucking die on me, alright? C’mon, talk to me, are you OK? Where’s Bambi? What happened?”

The mention of you seemed to bring him back into his body. He felt it all then. Just how cold he was, how much his hands hurt, the way the wet denim clung to his legs.

He felt the pain of you more.

It was a pain that he’d only felt a few times in his life. When he watched Tess burn after he’d failed her. When he thought he was too late to save Ellie, when he’d been afraid that he’d never find her again when she was ripped away from him. It was almost as bad as holding Sarah in his arms as she cried, her eyes wide and in pain, clutching onto her body and knowing there was nothing he could do but desperate to find a way to fix it.

He’d do anything to fix it.

“Had a talk,” he said, not wanting to put what had happened on Ellie. She was almost 18 now but she was just a kid, she was his kid. He wanted to protect her. She shouldn’t be caught in the middle of this, she shouldn’t have to live with the image of what was done to you in her mind or with knowledge of the things he’d done in the past.

But, he was ashamed to admit even to himself, there was an underlying fear, too. That if Ellie knew about it all - all the things he’d done and let happen in cold, visceral detail - she would be gone from his life again. At least with this he’d feel like it was deserved. There was no excuse for the worst of it. He wasn’t going to try to make one.

“About what?” She gaped at him. “It looks like you were fucking crying, I’ve never seen you fucking cry…”

Joel shook his head a little. It hadn’t occurred to him to do something like clean his face up before coming inside.

“Did you guys break up or something?” Ellie frowned. “Because I’m sure shit just got mixed up or something, I can go talk to her…”

“No,” Joel said quickly. He knew you well enough to know that you didn’t want an audience right now. He couldn’t cause you any more pain. “No, I think we just… think we just need to give her some space, Baby Girl.”

“But…”

“I’ll go in the mornin’,” he said, calmer than he felt. He’d always been good at holding things together for his daughter, even when he felt like he was falling to pieces. “Make sure she’s OK with the storm. Check in. It’ll be OK, Kiddo. Why don’t you pick a movie?”

She looked at him, skeptical for a moment.

“Fine,” she said eventually, “But go change out of the wet shit before you actually give yourself a heart attack or something.”

Joel nodded and hoped he’d be able to put one foot in front of the other well enough to make it up the stairs. It was almost a surprise when he did, his hands feeling like they were on fire as they warmed back up.

But he almost appreciated the pain. It was something that made him realize that he was still alive, that just because he felt hallowed out and broken down his body was still there. His heart still beat and his lungs still filled.

He stared at his bed for a moment. He would need sit down to peel off the wet jeans but the last time he had been in that bed you were with him. He’d woken up before you had, your body soft and warm and pliant against him, your face relaxed as you rested it against his chest. Your skin was so smooth when he’d trailed a hand gently over the curve of you and you shifted in your sleep to press yourself closer to him. You’d wanted to be closer to him then.

I trusted you, you made me love you, I let you inside of me and you’re like them, you’re just like them…

Joel got some pajama pants and went to change in the bathroom. He couldn’t stand to look at his bed knowing you might never be in it again. He had enough sense that time to make sure it didn’t look like he was hurting before going downstairs.

Ellie put on Jurassic Park, a movie that reminded him of you now but he didn’t say that. His eyes barely focused on the screen, playing his conversation with you over and over again in his mind instead.

Christ, you had a daughter. It made so much sense that you had a child. The way you’d bonded with Ellie, had fallen into guiding her and protecting her and loving her so naturally. The way you cared for William. The ferocity with which you hunted down every trace of a captive every time there was a sign of raiders. Of course you had a child. How had he not seen it? How had he not asked?

He would in the morning. Maybe, with a few hours of distance, once you had a chance to process anything at all, maybe then he could talk to you. He could take care of you then, you just had to let him. Just for a minute, just let him in for a minute…

Ellie fell asleep in the middle of the movie. Joel turned it off and picked her up, carrying her up the stairs and to the first bedroom she’d ever had in Jackson, before she wanted space and moved into the outbuilding in the yard. He tucked her in, her face drawn and concerned even in sleep, and he pressed a kiss to her temple before going back downstairs.

He couldn’t sleep in his bed. Not without you.

He wasn’t sure he could sleep at all. He turned out all the lights and stretched out on the couch and tried to think of anything but making love to you there on Christmas Eve. How close to you he felt, how all he wanted was to be that close to you for the rest of his life.

You’re just like them.

Joel fell asleep eventually.

He wasn’t sure when or how deeply or how long. It didn’t matter. His mind found a way to torment him through it all.

It was decades ago inside his head, back before buildings had truly started to decay from neglect, before it seemed like the whole of humanity had lost hope.

Hope, Joel had believed then, was mankind’s fatal flaw. That so many people they encountered still had hope, believed that there was something worth living for out there, made them vulnerable.

Joel was only living for Tommy then. His brother who was, after everything, still foolish enough to want to have hope. So Joel kept living. He did everything he could to keep living. He protected his brother, he found him supplies, he followed him when he took up with larger groups because it was a better shot at survival.

It’s how they wound up with the raiders in the first place. Joel and Tommy had run a job on a small group heading for Atlanta, Tommy faking an injury so Joel could ambush them. They’d stolen all their supplies, enough to last them for a month at least. One of Davis’ men found them when they were searching the bodies. Instead of killing them, he extended an offer: Join up with his boss, help him control a swath of the American south. In exchange, Joel and Tommy would have food, shelter, protection and whatever they wanted to fuck.

Joel and Tommy didn’t take him up on the last part. Joel preferred a woman who was begging for it. Tommy didn’t have the stomach for it otherwise. But the rest was enough to stick around for.

Joel was coming back to a campsite one night after a few hours hunting. It was dark, he could see the glow of the fires from the camp from far away, even through the trees. As he got closer, he could hear the camp, too. The voices around the central fires further away, the wet sounds and desperate grunts of the men taking advantage of the last part of Davis’ offer closer.

He had to walk through the area where the captives were held as he went to find Davis at the center, the women bound to trees without any other way to contain them. Just one of the many downsides of moving to a new place. Because none of these assholes could keep it in their fucking pants for longer than a few hours let alone the days it took to relocate.

As he passed close to one, he almost couldn’t help but look. It turned his stomach but it was like a train wreck, he couldn’t turn away.

The woman was on her hands and knees, crying and letting out sharp little sobs as the man behind her fucked into her without mercy. Her head hung low, like she was struggling to even do that much. Joel knew what happened once they got to this point. They usually didn’t have long then, either falling asleep and not waking up or one of the men killing her. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident. Joel was pretty certain that, either way, it was a mercy. Hell, there were still days where he wished he’d fail at staying alive, just so that it’d be over and it wasn’t his fault. That he’d get bit, shot. That he’d be on his own or with one of the fucking dipshits from the crew and they both wound up dead. That’d be a mercy.

He was just about to look away hope that he could tune out the sound when the woman looked up, her eyes meeting his, vulnerable and pleading. But then they shifted. Her whole being did, until she wasn’t a nameless, wretched thing, until she had a form he knew.

Suddenly, they weren’t just any eyes. They were yours. Eyes he knew so well, eyes he looked into from across a table or in his bed, eyes that he loved so dearly. And it was you there, at the mercy of this man, face slick with tears, those eyes desperate and begging.

“Joel!” You stretched an arm out for him. You were sobbing, your voice cracking and thick and wet. “Joel, please, help me, please help me, please make it stop, please Joel, I’m begging you, please…”

He tried to make himself move. Tried to make himself do anything at all as you stretched and reached for him, your fingers extended as far as you could push them. He wanted to kill the man touching you, wanted to rip you away from him and wrap you up and hold you close and promise you that it would be OK. He wanted to destroy anything that had ever harmed you, even if that meant destroying himself, too.

You begged him until you were choking on it and he couldn’t make himself move to help you.

Because he hadn’t. He’d never helped the women in your position. He’d valued his and Tommy’s safety with the crew more than those lives. He’d been so numb to it all he’d barely even thought twice about it.

“Not my job to help you,” he felt himself say it far more than he directed himself to. The words felt alien, cold and cruel and inhuman. But they were his. “Why would I?”

He turned his back on you then even though he was screaming at himself to stop, to turn back, to do something - anything - to save you.

But he couldn’t undo what had happened. Couldn’t fix what he’d already done. Couldn’t change the fact that you were right about him.

You’re just like them.

Joel jerked awake, covered in sweat in spite of the cold air and panting for breath. He’d rolled in the night so his deaf ear was facing up and he fell back onto his back, staring at the ceiling. It was still dark, though what little light there was from the moon that was behind the storm clouds reflected and amplified by the new fallen snow. His stomach churned, his chest tight from the horror of watching someone hurt you. He wanted to vomit but realized, suddenly, that he hadn’t eaten anything since noon. There wasn’t anything in him to expel but he wished there was. He wanted there to be something he could excise, something that he could rip out as though that would make him good again in your eyes. If it would he’d do it. Carve out any organ, swallow any poison, it didn’t matter. He would do it for you, give it to you. It all belonged to you, now, anyway.

There was a creak on the front step and he shot up off the couch, heart pounding, but it was Ellie and not you who came in the door. He frowned, getting up and meeting her there as she kicked the snow off her boots.

“What were you doin’ out there?” Joel asked, closing the door behind her and helping her out of her coat before rubbing his hands over her shoulders and arms, trying to warm her up. “Dangerous in a storm like this, Baby Girl…”

“It didn’t feel right to just have Bambi be on her own if she was as upset as you were,” Ellie said.

Joel sighed.

“Kiddo…”

“She’s not at home, Joel.”

His blood ran cold.

“Ellie….”

“She’s not at the stables, either,” she said. “I don’t know where she is, Joel, but she’s gone.”

***

You needed to find your daughter.

You needed a gun. You needed a horse. You needed to bring Savvy home.

You needed to talk to Maria.

It was slow going, moving through the snow. The wind was against you, cold and sharp and you realized you were wearing Joel’s coat and one of his shirts underneath it. It made your skin crawl.

When you got to Maria’s, you pounded on her door, stripping out of the coat and the shirt even though the wind was howling as you waited for her.

You knew it must have only taken a minute but it felt like an eternity of waiting. Every minute you wasted was a minute longer she was with them. It had already been so long, so so long.

“Bambi?” Maria frowned. “Jesus, you must he half frozen…”

“I need a gun,” you said, goosebumps prickling over your flesh.

“What you need is to put on your damn coat…”

“Don’t want it,” you thrust it at her and she almost jumped but took it. “I need a gun, Maria. Rifle is best but any gun…”

“Why?” She asked. “It’s a blizzard out there and…”

“The people the patrol brought back today,” you said as quickly as you could. “The woman they mentioned, she said the raiders had a girl, a teenaged girl. I’m going to find her and I need a fucking gun, are you going to give me one or not?” `

“No,” she shook her head. “No, it’s too dangerous to send anyone out right now and…”

You smacked your hand against the door frame, making her jump.

“I already had this fucking conversation with Joel and I’m going. Now. You can either give me the fucking gun or I’ll go out there with nothing but what’s in this fucking pack but I’m going.”

She searched your face for a second before she sighed and opened her door wider. You stomped inside, snow clinging to your boots. Maria opened her coat closet and pulled out a winter coat, holding it out to you. You frowned for a moment.

“You need that, too,” she said. “Give me a minute, we have a rifle here in a safe. With ammo. But you have to bring it back, you hear me? You need to make it back.”

You pulled on the coat and zipped it up. There was a hat and gloves in the pockets and you put those on, too. Maria came back with the gun and she handed it to you. It didn’t have the good scope, Tommy must have taken that one out on patrol, but you didn’t care.

“If you just wait a day or two for the storm to clear…” Maria began but you cut her off.

“Not leaving her with them any longer than I have to,” you slung the gun over your arm. You were glad William wasn’t in the room, probably already in bed though you weren’t sure what time it was now. He reminded you so much of how Savvy looked at his age, the unruly curl of his hair and the deep warmth of his big eyes. You weren’t sure you could bear to look at him in that moment. “Thank you, for this. I appreciate it.”

“I meant it when you said you needed to make it back,” she replied. “So you’d better make it back.”

You looked at her for a second.

“I’ll do my best.”

You left her there, Joel’s shirt and coat draped over the back of her couch. You went to the stable and saddled up Ares. He was the biggest horse, he’d make it through the snow the best, survive what might be waiting on the other end of this the best. You needed him to make it. You had to make it.

The directions from the group you’d found were vague but they were enough to set you in what you hoped was the right direction. You had to demand to leave at the gate - threatening to go get Maria if they didn’t let you out - but, before too long, you were underway.

It was miserable weather but you hardly noticed it. You were thankful for it, in a way. You wouldn’t need to watch your back in weather like this, no one else would be out. Infected would freeze, raiders would be hunkered down. You could move freely.

You took advantage of it, resisting the urge to push Ares as fast as you possibly could. He’d exhaust too fast, especially moving through the snow. It was faster to pace yourself. You knew that. It just didn’t feel fast enough.

You fought not to think about what life was like with them. About what she might be suffering now. About how you’d thought Savvy was dead for years, since that day by the fire. But you still looked for her, watched for any sign of her. You still held out hope that she was out there, somewhere, just waiting for you to find her again. You couldn’t accept that she was gone, not when you’d never seen the proof, never held it in your hands.

If there was even a chance that it was her, that was enough.

You rode through the night and it was late the next day that made it to south of Kelly and started looking for signs of people, where you might find cabins. But the foot of fresh snow made that difficult, you couldn’t tell where anyone had been and the snow was still falling. You tried to think for a moment but your mind was cloudy. You hadn’t stopped for food or rest since leaving Jackson what had to be 20 hours earlier. You hadn’t slept in even longer. There was a sort of manic energy running through your veins, a singular focus that kept you breathing and your mind focused: Find Savvy.

You tried to remember what the landscape around Kelly looked like, where the mountains eased and where finding these cabins might be simpler. You thought you had an idea of a place to start and you pointed Ares in that direction, his footsteps heavy and plodding after you’d pushed him for so long.

It was getting dark when you saw the tracks in the snow. Someone had walked through here, recently.

You followed them, your heart in your throat, the sound of Ares’ heavy breaths loud on the crisp snow.

“Gonna need you to stop right there,” a voice from your left said.

You obeyed, turning your head toward the sound. A man had his rifle drawn high, pointed at you. You didn’t like the look of him, something threatening and harsh. You fought to focus your mind, push past the cloud of exhaustion that threatened to take over you.

“Good girl,” he smirked. You clenched your jaw. “You’re in our territory now which means you’re coming with me.”

“And who are you?” You asked, brows raised.

“The difference between you dying slow and painful or surviving,” he said, stepping closer with the gun up. “Recommend you take me up on it.”

You looked at him for a moment. He was probably with the men who had her. Raiders were too territorial, there wouldn’t be multiple groups on the outskirts of Kelly like this if they weren’t working together.

“Now,” he said, adjusting his grip on the rifle. “Why don’t you get off that pretty horse of yours and come with me.”

You obeyed and he came over to you, looping his hand through the strap of the rifle. He smiled when you didn’t argue with him on it. You didn’t mind it much, at least not yet. He was going to take you there. You could kill him with your bare hands once you found them.

He took your gun and took the reins for Ares and nodded to the space in front of him. He aimed his rifle at you and you put your hands up.

“Walk ahead,” he said. “I’ll tell ya where to go.”

“Alright,” you said, fighting to keep your voice calm.

Part of you knew you should be afraid. The shadow of that feeling was there, the echo of it. You were sure he was taking you somewhere you’d be outnumbered. You’d be fighting to get two people out instead of one, you were exhausted and weakening. You doubted you could even push Ares into a full gallup now, he was going to fall asleep the second you got where you were going.

None of that really mattered, though. If it wasn’t Savvy, you weren’t sure you had much of a reason to try and live. Jackson held Joel, just the thought of him too gutting and painful to even really consider him, and a life that you didn’t want anymore if you couldn’t give it to you child, too.

You’d gotten remarkably close to the group without the man’s help, as it happened. You were only walking about half a mile through the woods when you came upon a small cluster of cabins, not unlike the ones you’d called home for 20 years. Smoke curled up from the chimney of the center one and you thought, for a moment, that it would be picturesque under other circumstances. The fresh snow bowing the limbs of the pine trees toward the ground, the soft glow from the fire in the window, the humble nobility of the log structures themselves.

He tied Ares to a tree and turned back to you.

“Middle cabin,” he said, nudging you between the shoulder blades with his gun toward the one with the fire inside. “Move.”

You obeyed that command, too. Your heart beat so hard that, for half a moment, you were worried it might give out. But it didn’t.

The man stepped around you to open the door and you went in ahead of him, the rifle at your back.

“Shit, Fred,” one of the three men in the room said, looking you up and down. “Didn’t know you’d find a friend…”

You ignored him, looking around, forcing your eyes to move slowly. The firelight was dim, the corners were dark, you could miss something.

You almost did. It took you a moment to spot her, the girl in the corner.

It wasn’t her. It wasn’t Savvy.

The world tilted for a moment. It wasn’t her. You’d come her to find Savvy and it wasn’t her, you were supposed to find her, you’d promised to take care of her, you’d promised. You’d promised to protect her and it wasn’t her.

“Hey!” One of the men’s voices snapped you back into reality. “What, you a fuckin’ moron? I said get over here. Want to see what our new toy brings to the table.”

You looked over your shoulder at the man who’d brought you there, the one who’d promised you survival over slow and painful death.

“You heard ‘em.”

You nodded once and looked to the girl in the corner. She looked like she was about Ellie’s age, almost certainly younger than 20, with dirty blonde hair and pale skin and that half dead look on her face that told you she probably wasn’t leaving here even if you could save her.

But you owed her a better end than these men would give her.

And there was a chance they’d seen Savvy. You just wouldn’t know until you pulled the information out of them.

It was like you decided what to do after you started doing it. You were moving for the man behind you before you fully realized what was happening. You lunged for him and he clearly wasn’t expecting it, ripping your rifle from his hold and slamming the butt of it against his skull.

He collapsed to the ground and you whipped the gun around in front of you, shooting the first man before any of them fully understood what was going on.

The second started moving for a gun but you shot him in the shoulder before he got to it. The third was faster, going for the girl in the corner and pressing a knife to her throat.

“I’ll do it,” he said, panting for breath as you prowled closer. “Don’t give a fuck, I’ll kill her right now.”

“Put down the knife,” you said through gritted teeth. “Now.”

“Not until we have a deal,” he said. “Not about to just let you kill me.”

The girl was watching you, her eyes wide but flat, nothing behind them at all.

“Close your eyes,” you said to her, making your voice gentle.

“Don’t tell her…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence. You shot him in the head, his whole body jerking before he collapsed to the earth. The girl’s eyes went wide and she clutched her hand to her throat. It only took a moment before the blood started pouring through her fingers.

“Shit,” you threw the strap of the gun over your shoulder and ran to her, crossing the small room in just a few steps. She scrambled back from you as she struggled to breathe, pressing her back against the wall. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

She looked you up and down, her eyes darting, before she reached out to you with the hand not at her throat. You moved closer and she grabbed your arm, her fingers digging into your skin, clutching onto you desperately. You cautiously put your arms around her and she all but collapsed against you, her hand still at her throat, her breaths coming in short, wet pants.

“It’s OK,” you said quietly, your voice thick. “I’m sorry, it’ll be OK, it’s not going to hurt anymore, it’ll be OK…”

She just nodded and you watched her already pale skin grow paler, her blood coating your arms and your legs. You kept talking to her, promising her that it would be OK, until you felt her breathing slow and stop. You held onto her for a few minutes. You brushed her hair back from her face, cradled her softly to you before you lowered her gently to the ground.

“Don’t worry,” you said quietly. “Won’t leave you here with them.”

Her eyes were open, wide and green and dead. You closed them gently and tucked her hair behind her ear.

You slung the rifle and your pack off your back and freed your knife, going for the one man you hadn’t shot, just knocked unconscious. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him toward the fireplace as he started to groan. You searched him quickly to make sure he didn’t have a sidearm or a knife of his own but he didn’t seem to. You straightened up and brought your foot with all your weight down on his forearm, snapping the bones there. He jerked awake with a pained cry, shooting up. You pulled your boot from his arm and put it in his chest, forcing him back to the ground.

“What the fuck!” He moaned, looking around at the carnage you’d wrought in that room.

You adjusted your knife and knelt, putting your knee in the man’s chest and grabbing a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look at you.

“I’m lookin’ for information,” you said. Your accent was thick when you were worked up. You had a drawl now. “And you’re gonna give it to me.”

“Not gonna tell you shit,” he spat.

“Maybe not,” you said. “But I’m still gonna try to get it outta you. Should know, I don’t know what I’m doin’. Just watched someone do it once. Someone like you.” Your stomach churned at that. “Might fuck it up. Might push you too far. Just have to see.”

You took the knife and sank it in between two ribs on his left side and he screamed. You held it there and watched him writhe below you. Some part of you knew you should feel something about this. Something bad hurting another person. Something good in getting retribution. But you were numb to it.

“Fuck!” He tried to throw you with his unbroken arm but you left the knife embedded in his side and caught it before he properly reached you. You dropped his head and it thudded into the ground before you gripped his arm with both hands and twisted it, watching as you forced his bones into unnatural positions as he screamed and you felt the give of them when they broke. You dropped the arm and grabbed his hair again.

“You taken teenaged girls before?” You asked. He didn’t respond, his eyes wild and darting, as though there was something here that would help him. You sighed and gave his head a sharp shake and his eyes locked on yours. “Pay. Attention. Told you, don’t know what I’m doin’, might push you too far. Should want to give me what I want so I can stop hurting you, right?”

“Who are you?” He managed around his panting breaths.

“Don’t you know?” You cocked your head a little. “I’m what stands between you and a slow death or a quick one. Give me exactly what I want and maybe I’ll even let you live.”

You weren’t going to. He didn’t need to know that.

“Now, tell me,” you continued. “Have you taken teenaged girls before?”

You twisted the knife between his ribs this time and he screamed with it.

“Yes!” He sobbed below you. “Yes, yes, we have…”

“How many?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“I…” he panted for breath. “I don’t know for sure… four? Five?”

You nodded and pulled the knife from his side and held it for a moment.

“Do you remember any of their names?” You asked.

He frowned, clearly puzzled. You signed and plunged the blade in between two other ribs and he screamed.

“No!” He managed once he calmed down again. “No, we didn’t… didn’t focus on their names.”

You nodded and rapped your fingers along the handle of the knife.

“What did they look like?” You asked. “Any of them have brown skin, brown eyes, dark curly hair? Would be 14 now?”

He frowned at you, like he was just piecing it together. You gritted your teeth and twisted the knife and he screamed again, his legs kicking uselessly behind you.

“Asked you a fucking question!” You yelled. “Now tell me. Any of those girls fit that description?”

“She a friend of yours?” The man asked. “Tell you now, all the girls we’ve had? They’re dead. Every last one of ‘em…”

You dropped his hair and grabbed him by the chin, digging your nails into his cheeks.

“Asked you a fucking question!” You yelled back. “Better answer it otherwise only use you are to me is fun. Think I’ll like hurting you, once I get the practice…”

“No!” He said quickly. “No, no we didn’t take anyone like that, we didn’t, never seen anyone like that. Closest I got was a woman, she was closer to your age, not who you’re lookin’ for…”

You looked at him for a moment. You thought he was telling the truth. But you couldn’t be sure.

“Please,” he panted. “Please just…”

You pulled the knife from his side and he gasped, his eyes wide in shock, before you plunged it into his throat. He couldn’t scream around it, only choke on it as his blood started to pour into his chest.

You pulled the knife from him and wiped it on a part of his shirt that looked clean enough and you got to your feet, watching him bleed for a moment before sheathing the knife and going back for the body of the girl.

But you fell before you could get there, the hand of the second man you shot flying out and grabbing your ankle as you passed him. You caught yourself before your face smacked into the ground and he scrambled on top of you, grabbing your hair, his fingers harsh on your scalp, slamming your face into the ground. Your head spun and you felt blood on your face as you scrambled to at least turn over in his clumsy hold. But once you were on your back, he was sitting on your stomach, a vicious and bloody grimace on his face.

“You really thought you could just fuckin’ kill us?” He growled. You could see the hole where you’d shot him, his shoulder bloody and open. “Thought you could just end it there? Huh? Fucking bitch.”

He grabbed the knife from where you’d dropped it as it fell and thrust it into your right shoulder, making you gasp in shock. He smirked, distracted by his own victory. You didn’t go for the knife or even his hands in his moment of distraction. Instead, you reached for his bullet wound, thrusting your thumb into the ragged hole and pulling on his damaged flesh. He screamed and shocked back from you. It gave you the space to grab the knife from your shoulder and thrust it into his neck, just like you’d done to his friend. You shoved him off of you before you were too covered in his blood and you stood there while he bled, watching to make sure he was dead this time before you took the knife and wiped off the blade before putting it in your back pocket.

You shoved yourself to your feet and went for the girl. Her body already felt a little cooler than you remembered and you lifted her gently into your arms, the wound at your shoulder screaming in pain. You ignored it.

“It’s OK,” you said softly. “Not gonna leave you here with them…”

You maneuvered her through the door and to your horse, draping her limp body over the saddle. Ares huffed and you brushed his velvet muzzle with your hand. It left a bloody print behind.

“It’s OK,” you said, this time to your horse. “Not goin’ far. Then… then we’ll figure it out.”

You untied him from the tree and led him away from the cabin, leaving the door to the bloody scene inside wide open. You didn’t care.

You only walked about a mile before you found a place to set the girl down. It was pretty, you thought. The trees were so covered in snow and frost that they sparkled in the moonlight. You put her body down against a wide trunk, one that had roots that formed an almost comfortable looking seat with a cushion of snow. You arranged her so it looked like she might have just fallen asleep there when she’d stopped to rest or enjoy the sight, her head leaned back on the trunk, her hands together in her lap. You frowned as you arranged her hands, a leather bracelet on one wrist. You traced over it with your thumb and you realized that it was stamped with something, some beading on either side of the lettering. You carefully removed it and held it into a beam of moonlight. The name Lacy had been put into the leather.

You slipped it on your wrist and tightened the ties before turning back to the girl.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Lacy,” you said, the hot pinch of tears at the back of your throat. “You deserved so much better. I’m so sorry.”

You stood and looked at her for a moment. You wished you knew anything about this girl. If this was a place she would have liked, what her favorite food was, if she had a family.

But you had no way of knowing any of it. You turned back to Ares and took his bridle in your left hand, your right side in too much pain from the knife wound and carrying Lacy to even think about controlling him with it.

“C’mon boy,” you said. “Let’s get some distance, find… find a place to rest.”

You weren’t sure how long you walked with him. It felt like a long time but it was still dark when you gave up. Every step was hard. You could barely lift your feet and you snagged your boot on a tree root in the snow, sending you sprawling onto the ground with a pained groan.

Ares’ nose appeared at the back of your neck, his breath hot on your skin and you tried to get up but couldn’t find the strength to. Instead, you just rolled over, the horse hovering over you. Your head was light and your vision was fuzzy and you couldn’t feel a lot of your body anymore.

You tried to raise a hand to pet his large head but you couldn’t even summon the will to do that, your arm only coming a few inches off the ground before falling back into the snow.

It took you a second to realize that you’d felt this way before. Dying had been a lot like this, bleeding in the snow. And then Joel had found you. Saved you. Made you love him. Made you trust him.

“You’ll be OK,” you said to Ares. He huffed. “You… you were wild once, before I broke you. Wasn’t that long ago. You can live out here just… just fine without me.”

He lowered himself to the ground, almost in response. His large head curved around your body to rest on your stomach and you managed to rase a hand enough to rest it on him. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the heat of the animal instead of the feeling of the snow seeping into your clothes.

You stayed like that for a while. You were barely conscious when large hands pulled you from the cold of the earth and into a warm, broad body.

Next Chapter

A/N: I know, this was another rough one.

Feel free to yell at me. I promise, I read all the comments even though I haven't been great about replying lately. I plan to soon, I promise! I love each and every one of them and I love each and every one of you, too.

Thanks for being here through the rough parts of this fic. I appreciate you!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro@h-annahayy@starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg@fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

173 notes · View notes

lovekz · 1 year

Text

strawberry milk

syn -> rindou accidentally captures your heart with strawberry milk, but he has no regrets.

beware of.. bullying, ran acts like rindou's mom, violence, mention of a teacher-student relationship (not real)

"rin! can you go to the store?!" ran called out from the kitchen.

rindou sat in the living room playing his video game, oblivious to any of ran's calls to him.

he had finally made it to the boss level and was not letting ran get in the middle of it by being annoying.

ran has never been one to care about what others think though.

so, he walked over to the living room and pulled the plug from his game.

rindou let out a horrified scream, standing up from his seat almost immediately.

ran watched as his brother scattered around the room in a panic, looking for the plug that stood in his hands.

when rindou finally noticed, he launched his controller at him.

"what the fuck ran?!" rindou cursed, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

"i said go to the store. you have all weekend to play the game." ran said, crossing his arms and frowning in disappointment.

where did he go wrong in raising this boy?

"go yourself and give me back the plug." rindou scoffed, crossing his arms at ran.

ran didn't budge though, just staring at rindou like he'd grown fifty heads one time.

kakucho peeked from out of the kitchen, seeing the two brothers stare at each other.

"if it's such a big deal, i can go-" "shut up kaku." the brothers said, glaring at the older male.

he held his hands up in defense, watching the two brother's go back to staring at each other.

"fine. you owe me." rindou huffed, shoving his feet into his sneakers and grabbing his wallet.

"i'm making you dinner, i don't owe you shit." ran said, gesturing to the kitchen.

ran has never cooked a day in his life, so rindou isn't sure if he should trust him.

maybe he'll grab a burger or something while he's out.

the walk to the store was not long, it was just draining to be outside.

it was supposed to rain later in the day, so the sky was full of grey and saggy clouds.

the streets were partially clear for the upcoming storm, save for the people who had work and needed to be out.

and of course, the movie-like bullies from rindou's school.

they were always bothering this timid girl, who'd always mind her business and get her shit over with.

it seems like they found her outside in this shitty weather, as rindou could hear them yelling and giggling from a mile away.

'they continue this outside of school too?' rindou thought, passing the alley they were in.

what made him pause was the low 'let's get a picture for him. he'll love to see her in a short skirt.'

rindou seen you around numerous of times. not once did he ever see you wear something that didn't touch or at least go past your dainty fingers.

rindou stepped into the alley, seeing the flash of the camera go off.

what the hell is he gonna do about a girl that doesnt even give two shits about him?

you little whimpers could be heard, and that gave rindou his answer.

whoop their ass.

rindou let the metal end of his umbrella collide with one of their heads harshly, knocking them out efficiently.

"what are you guys doing?" rindou questioned, rolling his head and stretching lightly.

"don't interrupt us teaching the teacher-fucker a lesson, or you're next." one of the guys scoffed, squaring up.

"try me." rindou chuckled, launching his umbrella square into another guys nose.

he didn't have to do much, because once his hood fell, everyone paused and began running.

yells of 'shit! it's one of the haitani brothers!' could be heard before they scattered out of the alley.

rindou rolled his eyes and looked down at you, who was coward into one of the walls.

you were struggling to cover whatever was revealed, while a slightly sweet but strong scent emitted off you.

it wasn't piss, and perhaps it was the strawberry milk from the carton that was splattered all over the floor.

or maybe...

"did you really?" rindou started, tilting his head.

you looked up at him confused, not sure of what he was talking about.

rindou looked outside of the alley, and then back at you.

"fuck the teacher?" rindou elaborated, rubbing his forehead lightly.

you were a smart girl, so he wasn't understanding why you were so confused as to what he was talking about.

"oh. uhm- no. i didn't." you said, voice coming out peek.

it was the first time rindou had ever even heard you speak, though it was pretty low.

but he was glad to confirm it wasn't some form of semen on you.

rindou nodded, taking in your figure. it was going to get chilly.

in his rush to go to the store, he hadn't taken off his home shorts before putting on his sweatpants.

he didn't want to be cold, but he also didn't want you to go home like that.

the pants were new, and a bit baggy on him. so they'll be much baggier on you.

rindou sighed, before taking his sweatpants off and handing it to you.

his phone buzzed, stopping him from explaining to you.

rindou held a finger up and read the message from his brother.

[5:41pm] aniki : hey rinnie, you can come home. i actually had what i needed from the store. oopsies ;)

rindou scowled at the message, before looking up at you again.

you were trembling pretty hard.

"how about i get you a proper change of clothes and take you home?" rindou suggested, gesturing outside of the alley.

he didn't have to say much earlier, as you put on the sweats that he'd handed you earlier.

at least you were smart enough to put two and two together.

"i can get you something to eat as well?" rindou suggested, looking towards the bag of groceries on the floor.

and you greatly appreciated the kind gesture.

when school started back, and rindou had class with you, he decided to sit next to you.

you allowed it, smiling gratefully at him.

he dug in his bag for a bit, and pulled out a small carton before sliding it over to you.

you raised your eyebrow, before looking at rindou in slight confusion.

"do you like strawberry milk?" rindou asked, taking out another carton and taking a sip.

you nodded, opening the straw and popping it into the hole.

following behind the male next to you, you take a sip of your drink with a quiet hum.

"i remember seeing it on the floor and your clothes the day i helped you." rindou shrugged, sipping his own.

you smiled, muttering a small thank you to him once more.

the two sat in comfortable silence, before you had remembered something.

"oh! i brought your sweats." you smiled sweetly, going to dig through your school bag.

rindou put his hand on your shoulder to stop you, shooting you a small smile.

"it's cool. keep em." rindou said, waving you off.

he wasn't going to take it away from you when you'd look so adorable in them.

when you and rindou had finally gotten closer, you decided to invite him over to your house.

it wasn't anything too serious. you had explained that your parents were gone and you didn't want to be in the house by yourself.

rindou understood, and accepted your invitation.

now the two of you were in comfortable clothes laying in your bed, watching some shitty romance movie with strawberry milk.

rindou wasn't really enjoying it, but you were, so that was all that mattered to him.

"i want romance like that." you groaned in annoyance, resting your head against your palm.

rindou chuckled, and rolled his eyes.

the scene was a short slideshow of the couple. taking pictures, going on dates, sharing things.

everything a cheesy couple could do.

it stayed silent for a couple of seconds, save for the movie playing in the background.

and for a split second, you heard rindou mumble something silently.

you turned your head to give him your full attention, but he'd averted his eyes as his cheeks began to dust a bright pink.

"what was that rin?" you questioned, poking his hip just a bit to get his attention.

rindou took a deep inhale and looked at you, sitting up from where he was laying at.

"i could give that to you." rindou said bravely, looking at you in your eyes.

you blinked in confusion, looking at him. "not a friendship way, rin." you explained further.

rindou nodded, still looking at you.

you sat up next to rindou and faced him, trying to figure out what he was trying to tell you.

rindou sighed, when he realized you weren't getting the memo.

"i like you. and i wanna give you that cheesy romance." rindou said, saying your name in a tone he never thought he'd use before.

you stared at him for a bit, feeling your face get hot.

unfortunately, rindou took your silence as a bad sign.

"it's cool. maybe i should go." rindou muttered, putting down his strawberry milk and gathering his clothes to change.

he didn't mean to make you uncomfortable if he did.

before he could step a single toe out of your bedroom door you launched yourself onto him.

you held onto him tightly and wouldn't let go.

"please?" you asked, looking up at rindou from his chest.

"i'd love to have that romance with you." you whispered, intertwining your fingers with rindou.

and all it really took was strawberry milk.

400 notes · View notes

griffintail · 1 year

Text

I'm still working on the Lost Ones chapter, but like I had this rotting in my brain so here you guys go. I don't speak Spanish so sorry for the shitty Spanish translations later in the story.

Oh, look, a QSMP fic with Little Star.

Summary: A horrible nightmare goes a little differently as another daughter of Wilbur's is there with only one life left to spare.

Pairings: Parental! Wilbur x Child! Teen! F! Reader

Warnings: DEATH!, SOME ANGST, I'm kind and it has a happy ending

-----------

Tallulah sat on her sister’s shoulders as Phil drove the boat across the ocean. They had seen so many fascinating things and Star, herself, couldn’t help but note things down as they went.

They’d been up most of the night, Phil and Star taking shifts driving the boat as the children slept during the uninteresting downtime but Phil woke her and the children up as he saw a village in the distance. The sun was soon to be up too soon, so it would be very safe.

“All right, rules before we make landfall,” Star called out to the two. “Stay close to Phil and I. Do not wander away. You both have your armor on already but don’t forget your sword. We’ll explore fully when the sun rises.”

Both children nodded as Phil gave a nod as well to acknowledge she was right.

“All right, here we are,” Phil said, parking the boat on the shore.

Star put Tallulah down on the boat floor before climbing out with Phil. There were no mobs she could see so she helped her sister out as Phil helped her uncle. Together, the four of them walked to the village with the adult and teen in front and the children in tow behind them. As they walked, Star heard the start of a quill scratching and she turned to see who wanted to talk of the silent pair when she screamed.

Tallulah was thrown away, blood already seeping into her clothes as she lost her notebook. Phil was startled as Star pulled her sword and he quickly followed as a pair of eyes came right for them.

“Chayanne! Get behind us!” Phil shouted as he went to meet the beast. “(Y/N)! Get Tallulah!”

Star rushed to her sister’s side, keeping her cool as she pulled out a health potion, quickly pouring it over wounds to let the little girl regain sense and thought.

“You’re ok little sis.” She whispered before she heard Phil yell and a crash.

She quickly whipped her head around to see Phil struggling to get up as Chayanne was quickly running from the monster, desperately swinging at it with his sword while trying to keep her distance. Star quickly shoved another health potion into Tallulah’s hand as she stood.

“Get to Phil and give him that. I got to save Chayanne.”

With that, she ran over with sword in hand as her sister held a hand out to her to stop. When her sister didn’t see, she raced to Phil, giving him the potion as Star shouted.

“Hey, shithead! Look at me you fucking prick!” She goated as she struck something of the invisible beast.

It gave a noise as the eyes looked at her and changed victims. Phil had the potion down in a quick swig and was standing once more as Chayanne went to attack the beast when it wasn’t looking at him.

“Get to the boat!” Star shouted as she quickly moved back.

Chayanne quickly shook his head.

“GET TO THE BOAT!” She glanced at Phil. “It’s too strong! Back to sea! Get the kids! Its eyes are on me!”

Phil hated it. This was his granddaughter too but she had a strong look in her eyes. One he’d seen on Will so many times before. He trusted her.

“Tallulah! Chayanne! Boat now!” Phil ordered.

Star didn’t want to; she knew she had no chance if this thing got close. But she had to keep it away. She needed to keep everyone safe.

Tallulah hated it. Her sister was out there backing away from a deadly beast that took down Phil. But when Phil saw her hesitate while Chayanne was making a noise of protest but coming back, he picked up the young girl. She thrashed in panic but Phil ran her to the boat as he could hear the start of Star fighting, putting Tallulah in as Chayanne managed.

As he went to turn around to tell Star to start hauling ass over, his heart sank as he watched her cough up blood as something spear her. Her sword fell from her hand. She looked at him, giving a shaky smile before she was thrown away. He stood in horror and shock as he heard crying behind him.

The eyes turned to him as the still form lay on the ground now, as he could hear a familiar ping on the walkie…

He gripped his sword as his wings stood puffed but he looked back at the crying, angry, distraught children making a choice he didn’t want to.

“I’m so sorry (Y/N)…”

He jumped in the boat and floored it back. Tallulah screamed in distress, unable to speak her words but it was all very clear to Phil as his heart broke. She wanted to go back. Save her sister! She wanted to do something, anything!!

But…there was no point…Star had lost her last life…

Wilbur was running like a madman after the news reached him. It had to be wrong. Phil must have seen wrong. He dropped everything and made his way for the QSMP land. He had to be wrong!

He stumbled as he used the magic of the teleportation pillar to land on Phil’s Island. Looking up though, he clenched his hands. Inside Phil’s home, he could see Chayanne hugging Tallulah as he was also crying; all while Phil crouched in front of the two of them trying to comfort them both.

Phil looked up as he heard the whoosh of magic, then looked at the pair, telling them he’d be right back before going to meet Wilbur.

“Will…” He started.

“This-This is all a joke? Right, Phil? Tommy’s been teaching Star shitty jokes since she was little. It’s just a shitty joke.” He tried to reason with his father.

Phil gave him a sad look as he crossed his arms. “I’m sorry Will.”

“She’s not gone! Where’s my little star!” Will shouted.

But Phil was starting to cry and Wilbur only saw his father cry a handful of times, none of them ever good. It was always when the worst had happened.

“Phil…(Y/N)…” He gripped his shirt.

Then he was startled as a force ran into his legs. He looked down and saw Tallulah hugging him tightly as she sobbed. Wilbur started to tear up as he picked her up and hugged her just as tight.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there Tallulah. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Wilbur sobbed.

Phil had an arm gently holding Chayanne, who was gripping onto his shirt. It just all felt like a nightmare, but here they were…living the worst…

“Se fue mucho antes de tiempo. Protegiendo a la familia. Si no hubieras estado allí, las cosas habrían sido muy diferentes.” One voice spoke in empty space.

“Entonces, gracias a Dios que estaba allí. Lo haría de nuevo.” Another snapped.

“Tu hermana desea que vuelvas.”

The voices were quiet.

“Los monstruos no estaban destinados a ser tan poderosos. ¿Deseas volver?” The first voice asked.

“Por supuesto, imbécil.” The second rolled their eyes.

“Entonces, todo esto se convertirá en una pesadilla.”

The second looked over confused before everything went white.

Star gasped awake, looking around her wildly as she lay in bed. She…was in bed at Phil’s? Tallulah was asleep across the way and Chayanne’s bed was on the same side of the room with the boy sleeping as well. Star sat there confused as she touched her chest.

The quiet in the room was ruined as the door slammed open with the sound of flailing wings. Phil stood at the door disheveled as he looked over at Star in shock; Chayanne was on the floor holding his sword in panic and Tallulah was trying to hide in fear.

“W-What happened?” Star questioned.

“You’re ok.” Phil breathed before rushing over and hugging her tightly.

Tallulah gave a cry as she ran over and jumped on her sister’s bed, hugging her tightly. Star hugged them both, thoughts running through her head. Then a nightmare it shall be…It was all a nightmare now. Now though, everyone was going to be even more careful and once Wilbur made his new mad rush back to Phil’s he wasn’t leaving for as long as he could help it.

-----------

Translations:

Gone well before your time. Protecting family. If you had not been there, things would have been very different.

Then thank god I was there. I'd do it again.

Your sister wishes you back.

The monsters weren't meant to be so powerful. Do you wish to be back?

Of course dickhead.

Then, a nightmare this all shall become.

#qsmp fanfiction #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt oneshots #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine

167 notes · View notes

krikeymate · 11 months

Text

For @bossnhug91, who requested some Core 4 + Kirby. Found here.

“Why don’t you take your words and shove them up your-”

“WOAH, Tara no!” Sam yells, grabbing her sister by the shoulders and pulling her back frantically from the now sopping-wet man she was yelling at.

“I’m so sorry about our friend here, she’s a little drunk,” Chad blurts out, hands raised placatingly. “We don’t want any trouble,” he says with a nervous laugh. Chad knows he’s pretty big and strong, but not as much as this guy… and his friends.

Maybe taking Tara drinking for her 21st was a bad idea. Ya think, dingus! the Mindy in his head chimes in. He’s a little glad she’s not here yet, lord knows his sister doesn’t know how to stay out of trouble… and neither do the other sisters in his life, apparently.

Chad backs away, squeezing himself through some other patrons - sorry, coming through - and turns to find the girls, who have… disappeared. And left him alone, again. Why does this keep happening to him?

Sam drags her sister to the bathroom, elbowing drunk white girls out of the way without remorse. She all but shoves her face into the sink with the intention to splash water on her face and sober her up a bit.

Tara doesn’t get the message and yanks herself away, tripping as she turns and throwing herself to the floor along the way.

“Tara,” Sam sighs wearily. Maybe those last shots were a mistake. Maybe letting her drink in the first place was a mistake, but it’s what Tara had wanted, and if she’s learnt anything over the past 14.5 months since she’s come back into her life, Tara’s going to do what Tara wants to do. She was the same as a child, although she wasn’t anywhere near as stubborn, back when Sam used to hang the moon and Tara blindly worshipped every word she said.

The real mistake was letting Mindy talk them into going out to celebrate, instead of staying home. And Mindy isn’t even here to deal with the consequences of her terrible decision. Where is she anyway?

Sam’s head snaps down as Tara groans on the floor. It’s the type of groan that happens moments before disaster; it has Sam grabbing her sister under the arms and heaving her off the floor and into a toilet stall in a flash.

And just in time.

It’s times like these that Sam doesn’t miss drinking. It’s also times like these where she kind of wishes she was.

She pats her sister on the back with one hand, and draws her hair away from her face with the other. She wishes Tara wouldn’t do this to herself, but she’ll admit, only to herself, that she’s so grateful that she’s been given the opportunity to do this for her. To be the type of sister that Tara can trust to keep her safe, that she can rely on. That she’s a good enough sister that Tara feels the need to defend her honour when some douchebags at the pool table start loudly talking about the psycho girl drinking soda at the bar.

She’s definitely mad that Tara’s drunk enough to pick a fight with a guy three times her size and with a gang behind him though. Then again, maybe Tara doesn’t need to be drunk to do that actually. Her sister does like to fight, she’s noticed. It used to be just Sam. Now it seems to be everyone but Sam.

Maybe she should leave a message for Tara’s therapist.

“Why’d yuh’stop me,” Tara mumbles from the porcelain. “I coulda had’im.”

The words make Sam snort. Her sister has always known how to make her laugh. “Sure you could have, baby. He’d have been real threatened by you throwing up on his shoes.”

“He’d deserve it,” she mumbles, leaning back. “Nobody talks ‘bout you like that.”

Sam helps her up off the floor, keeping hold of her arms to steady her. “I’d kill anyone who says anything ‘bout you,” Tara continues.

The words make Sam wince. “That’s a little overkill for some gossip, don’t you think?” she murmurs, leading her back out into the bar area to find Chad. It’s time to call it a night, she thinks. “We can’t control what people think or say about us, but we can control how we react to them,” she recites to her sister. It’s a mantra her own therapist has her repeating whenever something like this happens.

Her eyes catch Chad’s from across the room as Tara mumbles something about Mindy, and Kirby, and how they should be here to join in the fun, and then there’s an unfortunately recognisable form standing in front of her.

“Hey, YOU!” the wet man calls out, blocking their way. “That little bitch owes me and the lads some new beers,” he growls, posturing. It’s fairly effective, Sam’s actually intimidated, all too aware of Tara hanging off her arm and barely able to stand on her own.

“We’ll buy you a new round,” she says, smiling civilly. She doesn’t want a scene, well - another one, not right now. Why had Tara felt the need to flip the tray out of his hands? Why had she felt the need to confront him in the first place? Well, what are big sister’s for, if not fixing the problems their little sister’s make.

Of course, when has anything ever gone her way?

He should have said “great, that’s all I wanted, lead the way.” Instead what he actually says is “Or maybe she can make it up to me another way,” with a lewd grin on his face and a finger poking her in the shoulder. And what was Sam to do, take that lying down?

Chad had thankfully made his way back over - why had he left in the first place, wasn’t he right behind them before? - just in time for her to shove Tara into his arms and take a swing at the bastard who thinks he can say whatever he likes about her sister.

It gets a little chaotic after that.

She thinks she remembers Chad taking an elbow to the face. Tara was on someone’s back. Sam’s pretty sure she took a bottle to the head, if the way it thumps with every heartbeat is any indication.

Being held face down against a pool table with her arms pulled harshly behind her and her wrists tightly bound in handcuffs isn’t a new experience for Sam, but having her sister beside her in the same position, hurling expletives at the police officers holding them down, certainly is.

“Hey! Be careful, she’s injured, jackass,” Sam spits.

“Quiet you,” the officer snaps, lifting her up before slamming her back down.

It makes Sam’s head spin. She can hear Chad in the background, protesting. Then she hears the voice of an angel say “is this how you treat all woman who try to defend themselves, Officer Sawyer?”

Kirby “please stop getting into trouble Sam, you’re making my life very hard” Reed is here to save the day once again. Hopefully. Probably. Definitely. Sam’s working on having faith in people.

Sam meets her sister’s eyes across the table while Kirby argues with the officer holding her down. The grin Tara shoots her should not be as endearing as it is, given the circumstances.

Before long, they’re being begrudgingly released into Kirby’s custody and ushered out of the bar. Sam can’t resist looking back, and finds Officer Sawyer glaring at her with his arms crossed. Oh good, another enemy to watch out for.

She gets distracted by Chad’s arm wrapping around her shoulder and the cheery “well that was fun,” he chirps out.

Kirby spins in an instant and gets in their faces, well, as much as she’s able given how short she is. She’s about as intimidating as Tara. “It was not fun. You started a bar fight! You got injured! What is wrong with you people? Can’t you stay out of trouble for five minutes?!”

Tara giggles into Sam’s side, swinging their hands together. “You said five,” she mumbles.

The words throw Kirby for a loop and her anger quickly fades into bafflement and concern. “Is she okay? Did she hit her head?”

“She’s just drunk,” Sam explains, wrapping her arms around her sister. The girl squeezes her back, humming into her chest.

Kirby frowns up at her. “Should she really be drinking?”

Sam’s saved from another opportunity to start a fight by Mindy’s arrival.

“Oh man,” she huffs, out of breathe and bending down to rest her hands on her knees. “I’m so sorry I’m late, there was this dumb fire drill at the dorms and we couldn’t leave and woah, what… happened here.”

“Bar fight. Tara’s fault,” Chad replies.

“It was not Tara’s fault,” Sam barks, glaring at him.

Chad grins back at her, “it definitely was.”

Mindy pouts. “Awh man, I can’t believe I missed it.”

Kirby rolls her eyes. “We’re leaving, all of you, come on.”

#/mp #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #Chad Meeks-Martin #Kirby Reed #my writing tag #this didn't quite turn out how you asked for but I couldn't resist the opportunity to have Mindy miss out on all the action again #it turned out way more sister-centric than I intended. but what else can you expect from me of all people I suppose.

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thaliaisalesbian · 1 year

Text

i get myself twisted in threads

Chapter 1: to meet you at the Alcott

Chapters: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

“Run!” Steve shoves at Nancy, then at him, hard.

The same way he’d forced the kids out earlier.

“Get out of here!”

“We’re not leaving you!” Jonathan isn’t sure what makes this worse: that the three of them have finally fallen into an easy friendship, no one left out, or that conversation Steve had walked in on, at the absolute worst moment, with no time to explain because Dustin and Lucas had found something in the woods.

Even after what he’d heard, he’s still putting them before him.

Nancy’s still holding his arm, just a little too tightly, so when she falls through the gate, he goes with her.

And they both get to watch as it closes, Steve still on the other side.

continue under the cut or on ao3

He doesn’t regret it. He can’t regret it, not when it means his the kids are safe, that Nancy and Jonathan are safe, that someone is there to explain this to Hopper and Joyce and make sure no one else gets sucked in.

They’re safe. The kids—the kids are all smart as fuck, if anyone can find a way to get him back out of here, it’ll be them.

If he even survives that long.

He can’t afford to think like that, though. Not if he wants to survive.

It would be easier.

He can’t let the kids down like that.

He won't.

At this point, Steve just counts himself as lucky that he has his nail bat.

He watches the place where the gate closed up, trying to forget the looks and Nancy and Jonathan’s faces as he'd shoved them through instead of letting them get trapped here with him.

He'll be fine.

Mike would have to explain his sister's disappearance to their parents, and Joyce doesn't need to worry about her eldest being stuck here.

He’s got the bat, he’s only bleeding a little, and since this place is Hawkins, just… creepier and monster-y, he even knows his way around.

As he walks, heading back in the direction of the main road, Steve makes a checklist in his head of all the things he’ll need.

One: Food and water.

Can he trust any food he finds, though? He’s pretty sure Will didn’t eat anything, holed up in this world’s version of Castle Byers, but he hasn’t exactly asked.

Maybe another gate will open up right in front of him, and that won’t be a problem.

Two: Shelter.

All the buildings will hopefully be empty, shouldn’t be too hard.

It’s not a long checklist, but maybe it will keep him alive.

“What do you mean, Steve’s still in there?” Dustin’s red in the face, yelling, but it seems like he’s trying not to cry.

“Dustin, please.” She sighs, trying to hold it together herself. Steve’s got good survival instincts—she thinks, anyway, he’s always good at protecting the kids—and he’s got his bat. He’s not on the baseball team for no reason, and she knows sometimes he’ll go to the woods behind his house and whack the shit out of trees with it.

“We have to go get him!”

“We will.” Jonathan says, quiet as always, but it’s enough to get Dustin to stop yelling. “But we need to tell Mom and Hopper first. We’re not going looking for it alone.”

They shouldn’t have this time, but none of them thought this would happen.

“I’ll call Hopper,” Nancy squeezes her eyes shut, trying to get the image of Steve, dirt streaked on his face, hands a little bloody, out of her mind. “Jon—”

“I’ll call Mom.” He nods when she looks at him. “Kids, get blankets and pillows and set up on the floor. I don’t care if you actually sleep, but try and rest. We’ll need it.”

Will is the only one who listens right away, and she immediately misses the way all of them listen to Steve, despite complaints and protests.

“We’re going to find him.” Jonathan tilts her head up and makes her meet his eyes. “We’re going to find him, and he’ll be okay.”

“Maybe he won’t get a concussion this time.” She laughs, though it’s not that funny.

She’d pay to have a concussed Steve here, safe on this side of the gates, and not in there.

Jonathan calls Joyce first; he keeps his voice low for the kids’ sake; none of them will admit it, but they’re tired. Max and Lucas are half-asleep against each other, while Dustin, Mike, and Will lay in the circle, heads together as they whisper.

Getting through Flo to Hopper is a little harder, and for a minute, she regrets saying she’d call him.

“Hopper, it’s Steve.” That could mean any number of things, she knows: Steve’s at the quarry again, his parents are in town, or he’s having/had a panic attack and is refusing to let the kids out of his sight. Usually, it doesn’t mean that Steve’s gone missing in the Upside Down.

She wishes it were a simple problem like that. Something Hopper might even be able to fix with a few words over the phone.

“What happened?”

“He’s on the other side of a gate.”

“You went looking for one?”

“Lucas and Dustin found something in the woods and came running to Steve. We all went out. He just—” At the gate, they’d entered, he’d shoved the kids out right away. At the next one, he’d shoved them out. And they let him. “He did what he usually does.”

“I’ll be there soon.” He doesn’t have to ask, he knows they’re at the Byers’— as small as it is, it’s become their gathering place.

“What about El?” Nancy jumps, not expecting Jonathon’s voice in her eye. “She’s at the cabin, right?”

“I’ll go get her.” She says. “Steve and I have been alternating afternoons with her.”

Since Steve is still benched because of his concussion, it’s really been more him than her. “I’ll be back soon.” She kisses his cheek and grabs his keys off the counter.

“Nancy? Where are you going?” Mike sits up, like he’s going to come with her.

“To get El. Stay here. Sleep, or maybe come up with a plan.”

It doesn’t take long for him to realize there’s no way he’s going to be able to tell time here.

He heads into town first. If they’re going to have food anywhere, it would be in town, right?

The school, maybe?

He goes there first.

He finds bags of crackers, but pretty much everything else is worthless. Cans that he can’t open, perishable food he definitely can’t take with him, and that looks half-rotted anyway.

“Come on, Steve.” He says, just to hear something other than silence. “You can come up with a better plan than this.”

He opens one packet of crackers, and shoves the rest into his pockets.

He’s always been better at thinking when he’s moving, so he walks around the school, trying to figure out where he should search next. Should he go to his house? Or the Byers’? Will figured out a way to communicate, right? Maybe he can do that, too. The kids are certainly there by now, and maybe Nancy and Jonathan too.

Steve doesn’t let himself think about them for too long.

Maybe El will be able to find him. Maybe he got hit over the head and he’s going to wake up and find out this was all some shitty concussion dream.

If only it could be that easy.

Deciding to try somewhere else for food before something comes looking for him in the school, he walks to Melveld’s.

It’s the same there. Nothing refrigerated is trustworthy. He’s reaching for a can opener—maybe he can get a little variety, even though he doesn’t think he’ll be able to cook anything while he’s here—when the growl behind him sets panic ringing in his ears, his heartbeat almost covering it up completely.

There’s a demodog at the end of the aisle, and when he looks out the window, he can see another one waiting.

Are they smart enough for that?

Steve brings the bat up in front of him, wincing at the sting in his palms.

He manages to back out of the aisle, the demodog hardly moving, but he’s not lucky enough to make it to the back door.

It charges, snarling, and for a minute he’s back in the tunnels. It’s only the fact that he doesn’t have Dustin’s weight to hold up that he remembers that he’s not in the tunnels, he’s somewhere far worse.

And he’s alone, this time.

Not concussed, though. Probably.

There are more than two once he stumbles outside, nearly right into them. He doesn’t take the time to do a headcount, but even he isn’t good enough with a bat to fight them all and come out alive.

So he does the next best thing: hits the ones close to him as hard as he can.

He runs, ignoring the bites at his ankles and legs and swinging wildly in any direction.

He gets out, but they keep following him, and then he remembers: Blood.

He’s bleeding.

From his hands, his ankles now, probably—he can’t feel the pain yet, too hopped up on adrenaline, but they’ve been biting.

He shoulders the bat and runs as fast as he can, heading for the woods.

Up is probably his only option.

Steve hasn’t climbed a tree in years, and the bat in his hands just makes it even harder, but he gets up high enough that the demodogs can’t reach him.

He rips his shirt, using the pieces to wrap around his ankles. Now that he’s relatively safe, he can feel them throbbing. It’s hard to look at them properly, eyes blurry with tears.

He ignores the flash of white that he thinks might be bone and pulls the makeshift bandages just a little too tight.

They don’t bleed through immediately, so maybe he did something right. It’s hard to get comfortable in a tree, but he’s not leaving until all the demodogs below him have left. If it means sleeping here, it means sleeping here.

By the time he wakes up, just moving his ankles makes him want to cry. But he can’t stay in a tree forever. He needs to find a way out of here.

The Byers’ place is closer than his; he's comfortable there, too. He knows Joyce keeps a shotgun in the house, just in case. He’s not the greatest with them, but he’ll manage to figure it out.

Despite the strangeness of this version of the house, it’s still familiar. Normal, almost. If he tries hard enough, he can picture everyone sitting around the table, laughing. Or maybe planning. He’s not sure which, but it feels real either way.

Are demodogs venomous? Poisonous? Steve’s not sure which word would be used to describe them.

Fuck, he doesn’t even know anything about them and he’s got multiple bites on his ankles.

Sitting on the cleanest spot on the couch, he opens another packet of crackers.

This time, he only eats half.

2 ->

#stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #stoncy #hurt steve harrington #whump #whump fic #st s2 #st fic #i get myself twisted in threads #nix writes #my work #my writing #dustin henderson #el hopper

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banannabethchase · 1 year

Note

matt jackson/adam page, meet cute AU where adam is matt's kid's teacher

...Anon you found my kryptonite. Any school AU will take me down.

Meet the Teacher - Also on AO3

Adam's got a parent teacher conference with one of the trickiest parents in the district: Mr. Jackson.

This became over 2k words. I. Okay. This might as well happen.

Adam takes a deep breath and peeks out the door to his classroom again. No sign of anyone coming down the hallway, no indication of Bailey’s dad.

“Page!”

Adam jumps and almost crashes into his bookshelf. “Jesus, Silver, what is wrong with you?”

Mr. Silver, the P.E. teacher, grins at him. “You looked tense.”

“I am tense,” Adam says through gritted teeth. “And thanks, by the way. Scaring me definitely helps.”

Silver shrugs. “Happy to help.”

“Thought that was you.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Oh, god, not you, too.”

Mr. Cole swaggers down the hallway, hands shoved in his pockets. “What, not happy to see me?”

“I’m not happy to see anyone right now,” Adam admits. “I have a parent/teacher conference that I’m pretty worried is going to suck.”

Cole pauses, leaning against the bulletin board across from Adam.

“Watch my kid’s personal narratives,” Adam says, trying to sound stern. Cole does shuffle out of the way, though.

“Why are you so freaked out?” Cole asks. “The parents love you. Moms want you to fulfill their weird little fantasies and fuck them on your desk, all that.”

“Okay, well, I wish I’d never heard that come out of your mouth,” Adam grumbles. “No, it’s – it’s a Jackson.”

Cole’s face falls. “Oh, dude. Good fuckin’ luck.”

“Right?!” Adam half yells. “His kid is in second grade and he’s already been to fifteen goddamn school board meetings. I didn’t even know there were that many to go to.”

“Talking about Bailey’s dad?” Ms. Shida says, poking her head out of the art classroom. “Good luck is right. When she was in kindergarten, he asked me why she didn’t get an A on all her assignments.”

Adam stares at her. “Don’t you grade on demonstration?”

“Yeah. E, S, N, U. She was getting E’s and he didn’t give me enough time to explain it before he was yelling at me.”

Adam whines a little and drops his forehead against the wall. “Oh, god, it’s only the fourth week of school. How am I already getting harassed by a parent 18 days in?” He exhales and jumps a little. “Okay. It’ll be fine. I’ll stay calm, and it’ll be fine.”

“Sure, buddy,” Cole says, clapping Adam on the shoulder. “Take it from the greater Adam. Survival is the goal.”

“I – shut up,” Adam says, pushing off Cole’s hand. “But. Uh. Thanks? I guess?”

In the hopes of ignoring the rest of his colleagues, Adam shoots a text to their receptionist to walk Bailey’s dad to his door when he gets there. He does a terrible job of getting paperwork done as he waits. The clock ticks on until 4:00 on the dot, when Adam hears a knock on the door and sees the receptionist, Mr. Schiavone, peek his head in.

“Hi there, Mr. Page,” Mr. Schiavone says, betraying none of the anxiety in his voice that Adam can read in his eyes. “Mr. Jackson is here?”

“Bailey’s dad,” comes a voice from behind him.

And in steps a man who doesn’t even remotely match the person Adam had conjured up in his mind. Long hair tied back in a half bun, tight white jeans, giant brown eyes, and a hesitant smile. Nothing like the half balding whiner in a lumpy sweater and khakis he’d imagined.

Adam is in trouble.

“Hi there, Mr. Jackson,” he says, standing up from his small group table. He always does parent conferences back at that table. It feels more personal. He sticks out his hand as Mr. Jackson comes by. “So great to meet you. We missed you at meet the teacher night.”

Mr. Jackson shakes his hand firmly, smiling. “Bailes was sick -trust me, you did not want her puking all over the floor.”

“Been there, done that,” Adam laughs.

He nods to Mr. Schiavone, who quietly slides out of the room.

“Please,” Adam says, sliding into one of the kid chairs at the back table, “have a seat. I should probably get some adult sized chairs, but, for now, enjoy the wiggle seats.”

Mr. Jackson perches expertly on the seat, then spins a little. “Oh, I like these,” he laughs. “Bailey likes them, too?

“Actually,” Adam says, and he can’t believe how quietly the conversation opened up, “that’s one thing I’d like to check in with you about.”

Mr. Jackson’s face darkens. “Did you bring me here to tell me my kid’s doing something wrong?”

“No!” Adam says. “Absolutely not. Bailey tries hard all the time. In everything. I can see how hard she’s trying, and that’s why I wanted to speak with you.” Adam takes a deep breath. These conversations never get easier. “I’m noticing that Bailey is having some difficulty transitioning from activity to activity, interacting with her peers, and comprehending texts.” He waits a second.

“Are you – you see it too?” Mr. Jackson’s face drops all the tension. “You think my Bailey might be Autistic?”

“I – yes,” Adam says. “She has some many characteristics, and I want to make sure we can help her –”

“Finally!” Mr. Jackson says, throwing his hands in the air as he leans back and half falls off of the wiggle seat. He catches himself before falling, like he knew it would happen. His hands are going everywhere. “Mr. Page, let me tell you, I have spent the past two years trying to get somebody to hear me when I’ve told them something is up with my girl. She’s – Bailey’s amazing, but I can tell she’s struggling when she comes home. I can tell. And the doctor told me Autism is only in boys, and Principal Khan told me it was too early to make that decision –”

Adam frowns. “Principal Khan said what?”

“I asked about it last year, around November,” Mr. Jackson says. He’s calmed down a bit, but his eyes are just the tiniest bit wet. “I told him I was seeing something with her, but her teacher disagreed with me. Principal Khan said we needed to wait.” He wrinkles his nose. “He and the teacher said she was too young to make any decisions.”

Adam pauses. The next question needs to be carefully asked, expertly angled so no one could say he disparaged a coworker.

“That Ms. Baker’s a real douchebag,” Mr. Jackson continues. Adam doesn’t even get a chance to get a word in. “And I know it’s probably, like, not cool to speak that way about your kid’s teacher, but, god, what a jerk! She literally said Bailey was fine because she wasn’t a behavior concern. That we needed to prioritize.”

Adam’s the one to half fall off of his seat at that one. “She said what?”

“I know, right?” Mr. Jackson says. He shakes his head and his hair is, well, unmissably soft. Adam feels like one of the kids with the way he wants to reach out and touch it. “Like, and in front of the principal. He looked so baffled about it that he just sort of ended the conversation with the plan that we would look into it in second grade.” He shrugs. “So, when we got that first progress report back, I asked for a conference.” He sheepishly pulls out his phone and presses a button. “I, uh. I kind of was recording this whole conversation. I was scared you were going to be another person here who was writing off my girl.”

Adam stares at the recording and runs back everything. He didn’t say anything negative, did he? Just asked questions?

“Sir,” Adam says, “I fully understand how frustrating that may have been for you. Is there a chance, though, that you could delete that recording?”

“Oh, duh, of course.” He turns the phone toward Adam and selects the only recording dated today, and hits delete. “I wasn’t actually going to use it against you unless you were awful.”

“Thank…you? I think?” Adam says.

Mr. Jackson nods. “So, um. What are you thinking for Bailes?”

The two of them speak for half an hour, coming up with a support system for Bailey until the referral process goes through, and Adam finds Mr. Jackson moving closer and closer.

“Oh, and can you add something about how to handle friendships?” Mr. Jackson asks. When he reaches over to point at it, he lets his arm fall right against Adam’s. “She’s having trouble understanding that she has to ask a friend to play, that they might not know she wants to if she’s on the other side of the playground.”

“Of course,” Adam says, nodding. His heart is racing, just a little bit. He can smell whatever shampoo Mr. Jackson uses. It smells like green apples. Like candy.

“Perfect,” Mr. Jackson says. “God, Mr. Page, I don’t know what I would have done if Bailey had gotten somebody else for a teacher.”

Adam couldn’t prove it, but he’s pretty sure Mr. Jackson is fluttering his eyelashes at him. He’s got gorgeous eyes. “Sure thing,” he says, clearing his throat.

“Right.” Mr. Jackson pushes back.

“You can call me Adam, though,” he says automatically. “You don’t – Mr. Page is for the kids. You can call me Adam.”

Mr. Jackson’s face breaks into a grin. He’s so goddamn pretty. “Alright then, Adam. You can call me Matt.” He reaches out to shake Adam’s hand, and their fingertips linger just this side of too long as they pull away.

“It was good to meet you, Matt,” Adam says. He feels…anxious. In a very good way. “Glad to be of help.”

The next morning, Adam finds himself primping a little bit. There’s no reason, none at all, that he would run into Mr. Jack – Matt at school today. Bailey takes the bus. He won’t see Matt.

But he can’t help but add a little extra effort to his morning routine.

“Looking good, Mr. Page,” Silver says. He wiggles his eyebrows as Adam makes his way into his spot at the bus ramp.

“Oh, shut up,” Adam grumbles. “Why can’t you be normal?”

“Not my vibe,” he says, shrugging. “How’d it go yesterday with Jackson?”

Adam relays the events, leaving out the smell of Matt’s hair or how warm it was when their arms touched.

“You’re a parent whisperer,” Silver says, shaking his head. “You got through to the scariest dad in the area.”

“I know, dude,” Adam says, sipping his coffee. “It was like night and day. Jackson was totally – well, he wasn’t chill, on any level. But he’s just been worried about his kid and Bailey was stuck with Baker last year.”

Silver winces. “Well that’d fuck up any kid, wouldn’t it.”

Adam nods, sipping his coffee. At least the coffee is cold, out here in the summer heat as he waits for the bus riders to come in. “I just hope he likes me.”

The first bus opens his doors, and they hear “Mr. Page!”

A tiny brunette ball of energy careens into Adam before he can focus, and only just manages to angle his tumbler full of coffee away from the projectile before it spills.

“Is that Miss Bailey,” Adam says, hugging around her shoulders. “Missed you all weekend, munchkin!”

“Daddy says to give you this.” Bailey, like always, gets herself tangled in her backpack straps for a second before calming down and pulling it off. She dives into her backpack and pulls out her weekend folder, then pauses, looking a bit confused. “Give you now?” she asks.

“Not right now,” Adam says gently. “Let’s wait until weekend folder time.”

“Okay.” Bailey continues to dig until she pulls something out of her bag with a Jackson-style dramatic, “Aha!” She shoves a Starbucks gift card, a crayon art project, and a decorated stapler that says, “Mr. Page” on the top. “Don’t tell him I said this, but he was singing his happy songs all the way to school, so I think he’s really excited that you get this.” She beams up at him. “Do you like ‘em?”

“I love them, Bailes,” Adam says. She dives at him again and hugs him tight. Adam holds the crayon project. “Did you make this?”

“Me and Daddy,” Bailey clarifies. “I got to use Daddy’s special hair dryer!”

“Wow!” Adam says. “What a day!”

“Okay, I get breakfast now,” Bailey says. “Later gator, Mr. Page!”

Adam watches Bailey skip into school and sees Silver eyeing him.

“So, uh, Page,” Silver says, and Adam is deeply concerned with that smile, “looks like Jackson likes you a lot.”

“Shut up,” Adam grumbles, blushing. But he’s already planning the thank you letter he’ll send home with Bailey that afternoon.

#This was not supposed #I didn't mean #TWO THOUSAND WORDS?!?!?!?#in which Sara writes #I have never been succinct a day in my goddamn life #HangMatt #anxious millennial dreamboat #Matt Attrackson #wtf i like wrestling now???

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firstdegreefangirl · 8 months

Text

Angie’s key slides into the lock, and the doorknob gives easily when she turns it. It’s a familiar path, from Will’s front door into his bedroom, one she’s walked under a million different pretenses. This is a new one, though, the sort of easy reliance she’s always a little surprised to be trusted with.

Hey, Ange. I had a run-in with some paint during a chase. Faith won’t let me ride in the car until I change. Can you run by the house and pack me a bag? Whatever’s fine; I have a spare suit in the office.

She thinks back to the phone call, the distant echo of Faith’s voice yelling “damn right, I won’t!” when he’d explained how she refused to let him back into her sedan covered in paint, and how Will hadn’t needed to ask if she had a key.

Ormewood is waiting in the driveway, their APD detectives’ car idling while he reads through their latest case file. When she’d offered, he adamantly refused to come inside with her, and she’d rolled her eyes and grumbled “you could have just said no, didn’t have to make it a whole thing.”

Now, she’s standing in front of Will’s open closet, Betty hot on her heels while she retrieves a small duffel bag. It’s exactly where Will had said it would be, and it’s just as easy to track down a pair of jeans and a clean grey T-shirt. She drops a pair of socks in on top of them, but hesitates when she reaches for the handle of his underwear drawer.

You’ve seen them before. Hell, Polaski, you’ve touched them before. The man has paint all over his ass, just bring him some clean shorts.

She feels stupid, mostly about feeling stupid, but finally tugs the drawer open. She grabs blindly for the first pair she can reach and shoves them into the bag with everything else. As she moves them, something falls out from between the folds and bounces onto the floor.

Angie pushes the drawer closed and bends down to pick it up. It’s a cassette tape, one of the little ones that comes out of Will’s tape recorder. She goes to toss it back in the drawer, but stops when she sees the label on the side.

Will almost never writes anything on the little sticker labels, because he usually reuses his tapes.

“The notes aren’t anything special,” he’d argued, the time Angie asked him about it. “What, you’re telling me you keep every grocery list you’ve ever written?” Even then, she’d known his defensiveness was equal parts practicality, and not wanting to admit defeat in the face of the written word.

But this tape is dated in Will’s careful, labored script. Six small, widely spaced numbers shake their way across the faint lines.

02-21-23

What Goodbye Note?

Read the rest on ao3 here!

#whumptober 2023 #whumptober #no. 6 #recording #will trent #angie polaski #michael ormewood #betty trent #katie writes #fic #kw23

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lookbluesoup · 1 year

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WIPDAY & Last Line

@bnuuywol tagged me on Wednesday (IM LATE IM SORRY) to share an excerpt from a WIP. Here's one from a collaborative au fic I've been working on with @seasaltandcopper , where the Red Mages are actually a coven of vampires that have sworn off preying on mortals and instead work alongside them!

"Fuck," he hissed again, and shoved a hand into his hair, gripping tightly enough it stung. "Please tell me — you know how to fix this?" Seating opposite Mal's gargoyleish, broken visage, Rhun took in a deep breath himself, and sighed again. “I told you – when we are turned, we become a reflection of our own perceptions. Our sense of self. It does not make us into better versions of ourselves, or even, necessarily, what we think we should be. Though that is a common misconception.” Rhun spread a palm, “It is a deeper magic. The change feeds on emotion. It makes us into what we feel we should be, in our deepest, most vulnerable places. I cannot speak to the state of your mind. Only that some things…” A grimace. “Like the regrowth of a limb, require a level of confidence I feared you lacked.” Fingers curling tighter, until his own nails bit into his scalp, Mal pushed out a sharp, ugly sounding laugh. He hadn't thought anything could feel worse than losing his leg; or the night he'd realized his life with Jericho had been a lie; than the six months after, locked in a hell that still plagued his nightmares; or actually dying. He'd been wrong. "You think this is what I feel like I should be?" Mal looked up, sharply. Fury rolled over him like a fiery tide, but it came too late to stop the seeds of shame already planted. "I just — just didn't believe in myself enough to make it work right? I'm not —" He broke off, voice cracking. Mal pulled in a half-breath, fought to get the words out past the constriction in his throat. "I'm not — this." An angry gesture. The other hand stayed locked in his hair, because Mal wasn't sure he trusted himself to let go of it yet. "I'm not." Keep trying, maybe you'll convince yourself eventually. "Fuck that! Fuck you, fuck — argh!" With a yell of pure, wounded fury, Mal swept his hand at the small table beside his chair, overturning the whole thing with a deafening crash. Glass shattered across the floor. Knick knacks rolled. Another book sailed, end over end, to topple near the drying crimson stain at the center of the bedroom. Rhun didn’t flinch. But his eyes creased with a sympathetic sorrow. “No.” He answered. “You’re not. But you are very afraid, Mal. Now that you can smell it, as a vampire, I need not impress upon you how powerful such an emotion is. Fear warps us into shapes we scarce recognize.”

Also tagged by @umbralaether and @sundered-souls to share the last line from a WIP, so you get the last line from two! :3

“Y’look like ye’ve seen a ghost, lady. Should I be lookin’ ‘round me shoulder?” She scoffed, a well-applied mask of humor to her tone.

But he’d decades to hone himself, and a strong desire to please her.

----

Not tagging anyone this time around but if you'll like to steal it, I'd love to see folks writing! :3

#wip #text #tag game #x'rhun tia #vampire au #a'mahl tia

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strawberry-fields-things · 2 years

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pls just imagine being friends with prince!dream since forever, ever since you were kids. you weren’t betrothed or anything— you had always been just friends. although prince dream tried to ignore the thought, he knew you would one day be married to some other suitor— and while he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, he understood it. he had to.

still, there was something about the people of your kingdom —your people— that had always stuck out to him. from a young age, children were trained to be warriors, as if awaiting battle. and you— well, he had only ever caught quick glimpses of you training— which in on itself was already a novelty. after all, why would a princess fight a war when she had an army to do it for her? still, you were good— at least, from what he heard servants whispering.

then, as if a long awaited omen, the war broke out. one of the neighboring kingdoms declared dream’s land an enemy of the state, and via diplomatic relationships and treaties, your people came to their aid.

dream was waist deep in the water of a river, metal armor pulling his body down like an anchor. his helmet had been lost at some point during the battle, a faint trail of blood dripping down his cheek. his sword had been taken away from him— left behind with the bodies of some of his most trusted soldiers.

they’d been ambushed. too many enemy soldiers, too little time to react. and before dream could even draw his sword, bodies were falling by his sides, and heavy arms wrapped around his, restraining him.

“don’t worry, princeling,” the soldier by his left grinned, teeth bloody, “we know how to take care of people like you.” one of the soldiers behind them barked a laugh. “just you wait until we show your people what has become of his little prince.”

to his credit, dream had put up a fight. killed at least six soldiers before he was finally thrown to the floor and pinned by several army men. he’d thrashed and kicked, attempting to choke one of the guards that had tried to handcuff him.

and all he had to show for it was bruises and blood.

the five guards escorting him finally led him out of the river, now heading into deep forest. dream’s heart skipped a beat. if he wasn’t concussed —which, to be fair, he probably was— he’d be able to tell that, just on the opposite side of the forest, stood their enemy base. which means he was getting into dangerous territory.

the point of no return.

dream was the first to pick up of the rustling, sounds hidden underneath the natural music of the forest. out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure, a blur,

“who’s there?” a guard yelled, holding up his sword. “show yourself!”

an arrow lodged itself on the man’s skull, his body dropping to the floor not long after.

“he’s in the trees!” another one exclaimed.

the men made the mistake of opening the tight circle they had formed around dream, eyes anxiously scanning the surrounding trees. and just as dream was starting to get a better layout of the land, he saw it.

a figure with a dark cloak wrapped around their frame, bow strapped to their back and sword in hand. dream was quick to spring into action, using their distraction in his favor. he shoved his weight against one of the guards, freeing himself of his grip. he slid onto the ground, hands still shackled together, reaching for the discarded sword from the dead soldier.

he warded off two soldiers, and the cloaked figure took care of the rest. and by the time not two minutes had passed, the only people standing were dream and his savior.

“thanks,” he breathes out.

the figure turns back to him, pulling their hood down. your hair sprawls out, eyes sharp. there’s blood splatters against your cheeks, but otherwise you don’t seem to have been harmed.

you sheathe your sword back into place, and a breath of relief escapes your lips. “let me,” you say, your hands reaching to unlock his cuffs. you shake your head. “you nearly gave me a heart attack, dream. don’t do that ever again.”

“don’t do what?”

“get yourself captured,” you say, voice dry. “you’re too important for that.” your eyes meet his own, and pink flushed against his cheeks. his heart stutters inside his chest, why—

a groan echoes behind the two of you as dream’s cuffs drop to the floor. before he can react, you’ve already nocked an arrow onto your bow and shot the guard dead.

you turn back to him, skin alight underneath the sun. and saints— have you always been this hot?

okay no nonnie bc i’ve been brain rotting so hard about royalty aus lately and this??? ohmygod it has me on a chokehold.

also dream with bottom energy we love to see it ohmygod yes just yes <3 i don’t even think i can add anything to this skajsjwksn i love it

#prince!dream #ramblings: dream #brainrot hours #dani’s chat room #🫐 anon #blueberry anon

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suttonli · 2 years

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It was already awkward enough at the Kash and Grab. Kash was seething as he watched Ian stock the soup aisle. “ How could he leave me for a fucking Milkovich,” He thought, as he counted the cash in the register, “ Fucking stupid, dirty, Milkovich.”

Ian could feel Kash’s glare on him but he didn’t care. Kash was married and had a pregnant wife. Mickey was hot and didn’t have a wife. Plus, he likes Mickey. A lot. He’d been able to avoid him all day due to the store being busy but now that it was just the two of them it was becoming unbearable. It was 20 minutes to closing time so Ian knew he was almost fucking out of there.

But Kash couldn’t hold in his jealousy any longer, “Really, Ian? Mickey?” He slammed the cash into the register, knocking coins onto the floor. Desperation was clear on his face.

Ian just focused on making sure the labels of the soup cans faced outward, he sighed, “Yes, Kash, Mickey. What about it?” This was the conversation he was trying to avoid but, “Might as well pull off the fucking bandaid.”

“I thought what we had was…was-”

“Was what!?” Ian cut off his sentence, rolling his eyes, “I was just your side piece and you should focus on Linda and the new baby.”

Kash visibly flinched at the mention of his pregnant wife. Most times when he was Ian he forgot about her even though she was always watching.

“Fine, just go stock the cooler. So we both can get out of here.”

“Gladly.” Ian mumbled under his breath and pushed off the ground, not saying another word to his former lover.

As soon as Ian stepped foot in the cooler he was pushed and fell face first onto the ground and on top of several soda cans.

“Shit! What the fuck Kash!” Ian groaned as he rolled over on his back, breathing heavily. The fall had knocked the wind out of him and made his head feel fuzzy.

“Ian, please,” Kash begged, “Just one last time, okay?”

He started fumbling with the buttons and zipper on Ian’s pants pulling them down. Ian, still in a haze, rubbed his sore nose. At the sight of blood on his hands from his nose he started to realize what was happening. He began squirming but that really only helped Kash’s hand find his way into his pants, squeezing his member.

“Shit,” Ian cussed. Ian went to cry out again when Kash suddenly forced him into a kiss, shoving his tongue down his throat. Ian didn’t kiss back. That just made Kash try harder. He stroked Ian’s growing member. Ian felt weird as his body started to betray him. He didn’t want Kash. He wanted Mickey.

***

“What the fuck? Ian said fucking 9,” Mickey complained as he walked into the store. Ian made him promise to walk him home. Mickey had said no but they both knew he’d be there. The store was still fully lit but empty. No immediate sign of Ian or Kash. He didn’t like that at all.

“He’s fucking that fucking towel head I bet.”

He looked at the refrigerators and knew that behind there is where Ian took him to fuck and assumed he was back there fucking Kash. His suspicions were just proven true when he heard glass break, like a soda had fallen. “ Fucking Gallagher. Fuck this shit.” Embarrassed for thinking about trusting Ian, he stomped his way towards the door when suddenly he heard something that made his blood run cold…

“Get the fuck off me now! I’m fucking bleeding !”

That was Ian! Without a second thought Mickey ran back to the door of the fridge and threw it open. What he saw was a panicked Kash huddled over a bloody Ian, whose pants were at his ankles. Ian had his eyes closed which made Mickey filled with rage.He blacked out.

“You sick fuck!” Mickey yelled and physically charged into Kash, knocking them both onto the floor.

He straddled the older man and began punching him in his face repeatedly, throwing out absurdities with each blow, “Fucking kill you, motherfucker!”

Mickey had no intentions of stopping until hearing Ian call his name moved him.

“…Mickey?” Ian moaned quietly. He struggled to sit up, falling back down. He rushed to Ian’s side, wrapping his arm around his waist. Seeing Ian covered in blood, even just from a nosebleed, stirred a bad feeling in Mickey’s chest.

“You’re okay, Ian. Come on, let's get up.” He threw his arm under Ian’s helping him off the ground, pulling his pants back up in the process.

Kash, bloodied, hadn’t moved on the floor, assumingly unconscious. Or dead. Mickey didn’t give a shit.

Ian faced Mickey, with unshed tears in eyes, “Can you just take me home. Please.” He whispered. Mickey just nodded but then an idea struck his head.

He leaned Ian up against the wall for support, and walked back towards Kash.

“…Mick.” Ian called thinking he was going to start wailing on Kash again but stopped after seeing Mickey reach into the man’s pocket and pull out a wallet and car keys.

First thing was to get Ian home safely. And the second thing was to come back to the Kash and Grab with his brothers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Late last night the body of an Indian man was found behind the dumpsters of the Kash and Grab convenient store on the Southside of Chicago. He was identified as the owner of the store, Kash Karib. He leaves behind his pregnant wife and two young children…This is a tragedy.”

#gallavich #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich #shameless #Kash #a03 fic #a03 #gallavichprompts #Sutton Li #fanfic #shameless us #ian gallagher

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amatchinwater · 2 years

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When Trust is Earned

Warnings: mild blood, canonical death, jealousy

Ch 8/14 (Ch 7)

The Last Chimera (ao3)

---

“I want to see him,” Stiles says for the third time. Honestly, he likes Liam’s step dad, but he’s going to start swinging if he tells him no one more fucking time. How are you going to call Stiles and tell him that his dad is doing badly and then when he gets here refuse to let him see his father?

“He’s still asleep,” Melissa grabs his shoulders, giving him a gentle, motherly squeeze. “It’s going to take some time for the anesthesia to wear off.”

The chimera’s voice lodges in his throat, “but he’s okay?”

“For now,” she nods, coaxing him into one of the waiting room chairs. “You will be the first to know if anything changes.” Melissa gives him a smile before heading towards his father’s room.

Before Stiles knows it, he passes out in the chair. What feels like only minutes, but a quick check to his phone tells him it's actually almost two hours, later he’s woken by loud, rushed voices and they cart someone towards the operating room. Not seeing Melissa anywhere near the nurse’s station, Stiles tries to settle himself, but the chair is now proving to be uncomfortable and his mind won’t shut up.

Just as he resigns himself to getting up for a cup of coffee, Dr. Geyer bursts from around the corner, his wide eyes falling on the chimera. “Stiles!” Liam’s step-father rushes the small distance, worry pinching his brows and tainting his scent. “Your father is taking a rapid decline.” The chimera’s heart is seconds away from falling out of his ass. “There’s some kind of poison, we thought we had it under control, but he's getting worse and we don’t know what it is.”

“Well, fix him! You’re the doctor, figure it out!” Stiles will regret yelling at him later. Right now, his only concern is that his last remaining parent is dying. Used to frantic loved ones, Liam’s dad doesn’t even seem angry, only understanding before he dashes into his dad’s room. Then Stiles hears a voice he’d rather not right now; Scott's. Stiles sees red and throws himself through the double doors, lunging at the now Beta.

The wolf’s eyes go wide and he just lets it happen.

“Where were you?!” Stiles shouts, his fist making an impact with Scott’s nose before he shoves him to the floor. “You believed him right?! Where were you when my dad was being attacked? Huh?” Arms hook under Stiles’ own, yanking him off the wolf. "Too busy fighting with your Beta like a pussy than helping your fucking pack! Your family!"

Brushing himself off with a pained groan, Scott gets to his feet. “Your dad isn’t the only one who got hurt.” Blood is already soaking through the wolf’s white shirt. And honestly, if you’re wounded, why the fuck would you wear a white shirt? Was it your hope that someone would feel sorry for you? Make them want to coddle you and treat you like a child?

Boo fucking hoo. “You’ll heal,” Stiles spits, jerking out of Parrish’s grip. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t mean me,” Scott whispers.

Stiles cocks his head to the side, not understanding. A door opens down the hall and the chimera gets a whiff of perfume he’d recognize even if he were still a human. “Lydia,” he mutters, racing towards her room. Skittering to a stop, he finds Natalie sitting beside her daughter’s bed, the banshee looks completely out of it. She isn’t even blinking. Fuck.

“No,” Natalie snaps. “Absolutely not. You are not coming anywhere near my daughter,” she jolts out of her chair, nearly knocking it over before she’s shoving at the chimera’s chest.

He stumbles more from shock than her actual force. “Mrs. Martin, please, I think I know what’s wrong with her. Just let me-”

“I said no!” She shoves harder, tears brimming her eyes. “This is all your fault! She never should have been friends with you. Any of you! Look where it’s gotten her. Get. Out!”

“Please, just check the back of her neck,” Stiles tries one last time before he’s all but thrown out of the room and the door is slammed in his face. Pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket, the chimera sends a quick text to update his Alpha about Scott and Lydia’s conditions. He'd rather call, but can't let prying wolf ears hear that. The reply is immediate.

Fuck. Stiles, I’m so sorry. I will do whatever I can to fix her. Please, you know I didn’t mean to hurt her. Please, tell me you know that.

I know. I’m not mad at you. I’m just worried about her. And…I may have, just a tiny bit, attacked Scott.

We’ll figure out how to fix her, I promise. It’s going to be hard, but I need you to apologize to Scott. Tell him what I did to Lydia. It’s the only way he’ll believe that you’re actually back with him.

But the bond…

Don’t you worry your pretty, little head, Kitten. I know you’re not actually siding with him. My wolf and coyote don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon. Our pack bond isn’t going anywhere.

Pocketing his phone with a smile, Stiles follows the scent of Scott’s blood down towards the basement, finding him, Melissa, and Parrish talking about Lydia.

“She’s catatonic,” Stiles says after letting himself in. “Theo dug into her mind.”

“What?” Melissa stares at him, “why?”

Scott, thinking he knows everything, though he is technically half right, says, “to gain an advantage.”

“And what was the advantage of going after Stilinski?” Parrish’s face scrunches. Not believing that’s possible. It might be easier than Stiles thought to get him on their side. Being so close to his dad might just help the chimera out.

“It left Liam and I alone so no one could stop him from killing me,” Scott growls.

Stiles snorts, knowing the truth, that it wasn’t even Theo who attacked his father. Theo may be many things, but he doesn’t have poison in his claws. “So he gutted my dad as a distraction? He said he didn’t want my dad to die, why poison him?”

“And you believe him?” Parrish stares at him.

Stiles shrugs, “he told me where to find him.” It’s as close to saying that yes, he does trust Theo without actually saying it. He hates that he can't say the words in front of Scott. “Maybe he knows how to save him. I can try and ask him.” The chimera already feels emotionally exhausted by this endeavor and he’s only just begun to pretend to align himself with Scott. How did Theo do this so well? He’ll have to ask, because there’s no way he can do this, no matter how good he is at lying to supernatural creatures.

“I’m not letting you go alone,” Scott’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard to him with his heroic bit. Stiles is getting a migraine. “He doesn’t know I’m alive.” Yes, he does. “Maybe that gives us an advantage.” No, it won’t. “We have to be smart about this.”

“Does anyone even know how to find him?” Melissa asks the million dollar question.

At least Stiles can be truthful about this part, “we don’t have to find him.” Stiles fights his smirk, “he’ll come to me.”

“So the plan is to catch him, right?” Jordan looks around for confirmation.

Scott nods, “absolutely. Here’s the plan…”

---

“His plan is so stupid,” Stiles groans into his phone, driving Jordan’s car while he stays at the hospital with Lydia for a few more minutes before heading to Scott's. Apparently being the sheriff’s kid while said sheriff is in the hospital dying is a great way to expedite the process of fixing his jeep. But it’s still taking longer than he’d like.

“Hello to you, too, sweetheart,” Theo chuckles from the other line.

Paying no mind to the sarcasm, the chimera continues, “they think you attacked my dad. They want me to talk to you about it and then Scott’s going to try and take you.” Stiles scoffs, “I’m supposed to curl up with his shirt so you’re not thrown off by his scent.”

“Like I wouldn't hear the second heartbeat,” Theo laughs again, “some werewolf he is.”

“Theo,” Stiles fiddles with the steering wheel cover, “why are they saying my dad is still dying if he was just cut up? That it’s some kind of poison they can’t place.”

“That’s why we’re looking for the chimera right now, I don’t know.” Theo growls, clearly pissed off about his dad too. “But I’ll meet you at his place, okay? I’ll have the chimeras keep looking. You know we’re going to have to play along, right?” Theo reminds him of his least favorite part of all of this. “I have to seem like I’m going to hurt you so that I can get us out of there.”

In a small voice, Stiles responds, “I know.”

“Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“I’ll see you soon, baby.” Stiles’ heart flutters at the name. “Then we’ll save your dad. I promise.”

---

Stiles still can’t get over Scott’s stupid idea. But here he is, sitting on the wolf’s stairs, jacket next to him while staring at the open door with a line of mountain ash. He put it there on purpose. So that way when Theo drags him out of the house, they can make a clean getaway while Scott is trapped inside. That’s Stiles’ hope at least. Parrish can’t break the line either, so they’d have to wait for Melissa to come back home to release the wolf. Giving Stiles and Theo even more time to escape.

White converse sneakers come into view and Stiles reigns his heart under control. Can’t give it away to Scott just yet. But fuck, does Theo look good. Dark jeans and a black tee that just clings to his muscles in all the right ways. Then the fucker smirks at him, raising a shoulder as he steps over the line. The chimera can do this, he can totally do this. Think of gross things!

“Guess we’re all telling the truth now?” Theo asks, nostrils flaring at the arousal he can no doubt smell.

Stiles shakes his head no with a grin, playing his part, “you killed my best friend.” The words taste like ash in his mouth and make him nauseous. He throws the shirt at the Alpha, nearly forgetting that’s its purpose.

“Be honest, Stiles,” Theo balls the fabric up, tossing it aside. Stiles hates hearing his name come out of the other chimera’s mouth when it’s not for something serious. “Was he really your best friend?”

With another smile, Stiles shakes his head again and points at the chimera, mouthing ‘you’. At least he can silently tell the truth to Theo while his mouth says, “yes.” Maybe that’ll help keep his heart level too. He can smell Jordan getting closer. “Are you going to let my dad die?” Stiles hates this even more because he knows the truth. “What about Lydia?”

Theo doesn’t get the chance to answer because Scott jumps down the stairs and Parrish blocks the front door. Stiles hops to his feet, this wasn’t the plan. Theo was supposed to get to talk more- well, talk at all- before this happened. So much for caring about what happens to his father and Lydia. Snarling, Theo lunges for Stiles, jerking his back to his chest while the chimera tries to squirm away like the other chimera’s arms aren’t exactly where he wants to be.

Snarling once more, Theo brings a hand up to Stiles’ throat, claws poking at the flesh, the other wraps around his waist in an iron grip. “If you don’t want your fragile, little Stiles to get hurt, you’re going to let us walk out of here.”

The chimera tries to give the wolf his best pleading look, as though he's actually afraid of the Alpha's words.

“Let him go,” Scott growls, taking a step closer.

Claws pinch into his neck only just, “we’re leaving,” Theo states. Scott backs off, watching the thin trail of blood trickle down Stiles’ neck. He’s not even remotely upset or in pain. This is all for show, Stiles knows that. His claws remain in place, preventing the tiny holes from healing and the thumb on his waist is rubbing soothingly where Scott can’t see. “Parrish,” Theo checks the deputy as he backs out of the house and towards his truck.

Carefully, though it looks aggressive, Theo puts Stiles in the passenger seat, tires burning rubber once he’s behind the steering wheel. Once they’re far enough away, the Alpha pulls over by the rail depot. Without much warning, Theo unbuckles Stiles’ belt and yanks him over the center console and into his lap. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Theo rumbles softly in his chest as he nuzzles the chimera’s neck, peppering the skin with kisses. He swears the Alpha whines quietly at the scent of his blood, Stiles feels Theo's tongue carefully lap the caked substance away.

“I healed, Theo,” Stiles chuckles, running his fingers through his Alpha’s hair. “I’m fine. You said to trust you and I did.”

“Thank you,” the other chimera lifts up, blue eyes soft when he leans in. Stiles lets him, relishing the gentle way Theo kisses him. “Now let’s go find the chimera that poisoned your dad. I lost his scent here, but he definitely went into the tunnels. Josh was sure of it.”

Sighing, Stiles carefully opens the door and gets out of the truck, Theo following behind him. He has no idea what this kid is supposed to smell like. Not that it matters really. The second they’re in the tunnels, Stiles can barely smell the Alpha and he’s right next to him. There’s echoing footsteps and pained grunts that definitely aren’t coming from them though. One last look at Theo and Stiles takes off towards the sound. Grateful that he’s a chimera now and doesn’t get winded like he used to.

Because this kid is really good at running. But not so great at hiding. Stiles chases after him through a torn, hanging tarp and finds him shaking behind a see-through crate. “You,” Stiles growls, eyes no doubt gold from the red hue his surroundings have become. He yanks the chimera up by his shirt before slamming him into the wall by his throat. “You attacked my dad,” his voice is shaking with anger.

The chimera, Noah, if Stiles remembers his father’s missing teen board correctly, whimpers. His fingers try to pry Stiles’ hand free from his neck. Broken bones sprout from his forearms and the chimera understands what’s killing his father. But even with that, the idea that this kid is the cause for his father’s pain, he can’t bring himself to kill him.

“I can take care of it,” Theo’s voice is right in his ear, dripping honey sweet. “If you want. All you have to do is ask.” The Alpha runs a finger along Stiles’ spine, “he hurt your dad. That’s unforgivable,” Theo growls.

Stiles nods, his grip loosening around Noah’s throat, “please.”

Noah slips on his feet when the chimera lets go, but Theo is right there. Claws at the ready, they dig into the teens chest, ripping his heart out and tossing it over his shoulder. Wiping the blood from his hands on Noah’s shirt, the Alpha faces him, “text Melissa, I’ll get you to your dad.”

His phone was already in hand to do just that, following Theo out of the tunnels and back to his truck. Keeping his promise to help him save his dad.

Don’t ask me how I know, but it’s bone marrow. There must be a piece of it inside him.

Halfway to the hospital, Stiles gets a text back.

It worked. He’s awake and asking for you.

---

“Theo already told me this story,” his dad says, looking over Donovan’s body in the hospital morgue. Theo told him part of the plan was to have Hayden tell her sister where to find the other bodies so they couldn't be resurrected too. His father doesn't sound or smell irritated. If anything, the man just seems confused.

Stiles wasn't sure how to face him yet, but by the time they got to the hospital, his dad wasn't in his room. Knowing his father probably shouldn't be out of bed yet, he wandered around the halls, following the familiar scent of gunpowder and home until he ended up here. “He covered for me.”

The sheriff squints, "why?"

"He saw it was self defense but that it still messed me up pretty badly," Stiles nibbles at his bottom lip. "He never once judged me for it and still supported me before he told me he knew. And Theo, he, uh," the chimera blushes wildly, "he also likes me."

"Why did you think you couldn't tell me?" His father smiles gently, "did you think I wouldn't believe it was self defense?"

"I guess not," the teen shrugs, curling his shoulders inward. "I mean, Scott kicked me out of the pack for it. He wouldn't even listen to me when I tried to explain myself."

"Stiles, I will always listen to you," his dad assures him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Voice stern and unwavering, "even if it wasn't self defense, I'd burn that library to the ground to get rid of any evidence there might've been. Hell kid, I'd torch the damn station if I had to. You're my son, Stiles. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." The chimera falls into his dad's open arms, holding tightly.

Opening the door to get his dsd back upstairs, "there's something else you should know," Stiles winces. "I'm a chimera now, too. When Jordan flipped and burned my jeep, I inhaled too much smoke. I-I was dying. Theo," Stiles clears his throat, "Theo brought me to the tunnels and turned me. He saved my life." The chimera considers his words, but fuck it, his dad needs to know. "Twice actually."

"He wasn't worried you'd be a failure like the others?" The sheriff stops outside his room.

Shaking his head, "no. He said the Doctors used the same stuff they did when making him," the teen explains. "He didn't die from it, never showed signs of failing either and I'm fine, no thanks to the Nogitsune." His father nods in understanding, clearly having been trying to wrap his head around how Stiles was a genetic chimera and able to be turned. "Theo's done some sketchy shit-"

"Like killing Scott?" He opens his door and carefully sits back down on the bed.

"He's breathing, isn't he?" Stiles retorts, unable to prevent venom dripping from his tongue. "I trust him, dad."

Something clicks for his father then. "You like him too, don't you?"

"Yeah," the chimera ducks his head with a smile. "I really do," he looks back up at his dad.

His father sighs, "if you can somehow forgive Theo, see if you can do the same with Scott." The chimera growls at the thought. "He's certainly an idiot for kicking you out of the pack, but he was your best friend once."

"Exactly, once, not anymo-" Looks like he remembers you. "Theo?" Stiles whips his head towards the door, straining to hear the Alpha’s voice again. "I'll be right back," the chimera mumbles, already halfway out the room. He follows Theo’s scent until he’s in another hallway, standing outside a room, through the small window he can see Tracy and the Alpha side by side.

As if seeing the two as close as there are wasn’t enough to stir jealousy within the chimera, Theo’s words really lay it on thick. “I can take care of it, if you want. All you have to do is ask,” the Alpha repeats the exact offer he’d made Stiles. In the same soft, comforting tone of voice. Emotions ready to boil over or simply explode, Stiles has no chance of suppressing his growl. “I thought that was you I smelled,” Theo chuckles, “come on in, Kitten.”

Turning the handle, Stiles checks his anger at the door as best as he can, if only so he doesn’t rip it off its hinges. Amber eyes burn into the kanima, he almost lost his dad today, Stiles isn’t ready to lose whatever the fuck it is he’s got going with Theo. The Alpha wraps his arm around the small of the chimera’s back, pulling him close and pressing a kiss behind his ear.

Tracy rolls her eyes heavily at the pair, “I can do it myself,” she says, puncturing the medicine bag with her dripping talon. A few drops of her venom mix with the liquid and the man on the bed starts convulsing. “There, now it’ll look like his lungs gave out,” she smirks, big brown eyes looking to Theo for approval.

But their Alpha isn’t even looking in her direction. “How’s your dad?”

“Fine,” Stiles sighs, breaking his murderous stare at the kanima. “He was able to take a walk with me, so that’s good.”

Theo wraps his other arm around the chimera, pulling their chests flush so that Stiles is the only person in his line of sight. Tracy huffs and crosses her arms, sending a wave of pride over Stiles. “How did he take the news?” The Alpha asks, knowing Stiles had planned to tell him everything. With his full support.

“Okay, I guess,” Stiles still has a sour taste in his mouth after seeing the two of them together. Why would Theo offer to help Tracy? Yeah, he’s her Alpha too, but did he have to say it the exact same way he had to Stiles? It just feels wrong. Almost makes Stiles think that Theo really treats everyone like a pawn. Himself included. Even though the Alpha had ensured him that’s not the case. “I should get back to him.”

“You’re still meeting us at Sinema later tonight to help Josh out, right?” Theo asks, leaning in for a kiss that the chimera turns to have land on his cheek.

As much as he’d like to shove it in Tracy’s face that he has Theo, he can’t. Because agreeing to be with him isn't the same as Theo outright asking to be boyfriends. As stupid as that sounds. But not knowing what to call them is driving Stiles crazy. Guess he’ll add that to the list of questions he has. “Yeah,” Stiles agrees, wrapping his hand around the Alpha’s wrist to scent the skin, silently marking his territory.

Tracy stands stalk straight as her eyes narrow to slits.

Theo growls approvingly.

Message received.

Hopefully.

Ch 9 (coming hopefully 7/16)

#teen wolf #steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #theo x stiles #stiles x theo #ao3 fic #Match Writes

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wp-blaze · 2 days

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Surveillance video shows Diddy assaulting former girlfriend, Cassie

A 2016 surveillance video obtained exclusively by CNN shows Sean “Diddy” Combs grab, shove, drag and kick his then-girlfriend Cassie Ventura during an altercation that matches allegations in a now-settled federal lawsuit filed by Ventura in November. The footage, compiled from multiple camera angles dated March 5, 2016, appears to show the rapper, producer and business mogul during an […]

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nami-writes · 2 years

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Alone, But Not Lonely - The Owl House

the premise for this came from the fact that in eclipse lake, hooty closes 4 deadbolts on the door but at the end theyre gone and hunter busts right through it like its nothing

so essentially, here: hunter doesn't realize there are four deadbolts on the door

“He knows,” he says.

The realization hits him like a brick.

“He… he knows we were in there,” he continues, panic creeping up his spine as the reality sets in. “I can’t— I can’t go back!”

He can’t go back.

He can’t go back, he can’t go back, he can’t go back.

He doesn’t even notice that he’s hyperventilating until someone speaks. “Kid, breathe.”

He can’t, he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t tell them how terrified he is. Eda extends a hand but he flinches back and scrambles onto shaky legs. His cloak— the Golden Guard cloak— presses against his back and suddenly he feels too hot, it feels too hot and it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. He rips it off and throws it to the floor. Running on sheer anxiety, he finds himself at the door and shoves at it. It rattles but doesn’t open.

It won’t open. He’s stuck in here with Luz and the Owl Lady behind him and when he turns around they’re closer than he thought and he just can’t.

His legs give out under him and he falls to the floor, back against the door, until his legs are up to his chest. Eyes squeezed shut, his fingers tangle in his hair and he pulls. He needs the distraction and ignores Flapjack pecking at his hands. It’s not enough. If he were more stable, he’d be embarrassed at the strangled cry he can’t hold back.

“Luz, don’t get too close to him. Give him space,” Eda says. They’re still treating him like he’s dangerous and he is— he was— but he used to be dangerous for a good reason. “Hunter, kid, c’mon, take a deep breath, okay?”

“No!” He doesn’t mean to shout but it’s too late to take it back. “I can’t, I can’t, Belos lied, he lied to me, he said I was special but he lied he lied he lied—”

“Damn it, Hunter! Just take a breath!”

Her commanding voice scares him enough to snap him out of it for a second, just long enough for him to automatically obey, and he forces himself to exhale slowly instead of all at once. Then again; in, out. In, out. Flapjack lands on his head, affectionately nips his ear. It helps. For a moment, he almost reminds himself that the Golden Guard doesn’t lose control like this. Then he remembers— there is no Golden Guard.

“There you go,” Eda says. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. You’re doing good, kid. Breathe. You’re okay.”

He does. But every breath he takes and the praise he doesn’t deserve make it harder to suppress the tears until they overflow and he chokes trying to suppress a sob. He has to wipe his eyes with his sleeve and then sets his head down on his knees, soaking the cloth with his tears. He doesn’t move his arm away from his face. He doesn’t want them to see the mess he’s been reduced to.

“Hey, you’re okay,” she repeats. “Can we, uh, come closer?”

He shakes his head. The word no is stuck in his throat. He doesn’t expect them to listen.

“Okay.” There’s shuffling, but no footsteps. “Hunter, is it okay if Luz tells me what happened?”

Is it? He doesn’t know them. He doesn’t trust them. She has no right to know this about him but he needs someone right now, and… who else does he have?

“You can say no,” Luz says this time. “But Eda can help. She always does.”

Hunter lifts his head, eyes still red and wet. They’ve both settled down on the floor a distance away from him. Flapjack chirps his approval.

He nods.

So she explains. The Inner Belos, the Collector, the real Inner Belos. The tricks, the lies. The truth.

The whole time, he feels so stupid. How stupid could he have been to have believed that he’s special? He, of all people? He’s sixteen. He has no magic. He once prided himself on how he was still the Golden Guard despite that, but now? He wishes he would've realized that that was never actually possible.

When she's done, Hunter interjects before Eda can. “I-I know I was stupid to believe him.” His voice is shaky and uneven and cracks at the beginning but he knows a mistake when he sees one. They’re mad at him, they have to be.

“Kid, no. You're not stupid,” she frowns. “You’re a kid. Of course you're gonna believe what Belos tells you. Nobody blames you for that.”

He swallows. “I do.”

“Well, don’t,” she says bluntly and leans forward. “Belos is the one who lied to you. Belos is the one we should be blaming. He’s a manipulative prick, and a damn good one. Don’t take the blame for what he did.”

To that, he doesn’t know what to say. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m sorry.”

Eda and Luz exchange a look. “For what?”

“Hurting so many people for Belos.” The tears trickle back behind his eyes and Flapjack nuzzles his forehead. “I-I don’t… I don’t know why I thought it was worth it, I don’t— I wish I’d just listened to everyone, to you, Luz, I swear I’ll make it up to you—”

“Please don’t apologize,” she says, cutting him off. “Eda’s right. It wasn't your fault. You were just following orders.”

And then the tears fall and this time, he can't hide it. It wasn't your fault. The words echo in his head, combatting the years he’s spent taking the blame. This isn’t how it goes. He’s supposed to apologize, be reprimanded, do better. He’s supposed to be punished.

“I’m s-sorry,” he sniffles, wiping away the tears that just won’t stop. He doesn’t know what he's apologizing for. “I’m—”

Luz launches herself at Hunter and he flinches hard— this is his punishment, she’s going to hurt him— but instead, she wraps her arms around him and hugs him tightly.

“Luz—!” Eda calls, scrambling to her feet. Hunter can’t tell if she's worried for him or Luz but when neither of them move to try and kill each other, she relaxes.

So does he.

It takes him a moment to remember what he’s supposed to do. Hesitantly, he returns the hug, and then he’s burying his tearstained face in her hoodie and clinging to her like his life depends on it as he sobs.

In a way, it does. He doesn’t have the protection of Belos or the Emperor’s Coven or being the Golden Guard anymore. All he has is… is…

“I don’t have anything,” he realizes, voice muffled in the cloth of Luz’s hoodie. “I don’t— I’m not even a witch, I… I’m…”

Alone.

“You have us,” Eda says. Flapjack hops down to Luz’s shoulder and nuzzles against Hunter’s cheek. He leans into his soft feathers. “Titan knows you can’t go back to the castle, so… if you need someplace to stay, you can stay here.”

Luz grins next to him. “Told you.”

“But I…” He looks up at Eda, searching her face for any trace of deceit, maybe even mockery. “I-I can’t. I haven’t done anything to— to deserve that, and I don’t have magic. I’m useless.”

“Well, you know who else doesn’t have magic?” Luz pulls away but sets her hands on his shoulder. “I can teach you more about glyphs. I’ll be your glyph teacher!”

Hunter casts a glance behind her at Eda, seeking approval. She responds with a proud smile. “Well? What do you say, kid?”

“...Really?” He dries his tears and stares at Luz. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” she says.

“But why?”

Her eyes soften. “That’s what friends are for, isn’t it?”

His jaw almost drops.

Friends.

“Yeah,” he answers, allowing himself the smallest smile. “I guess it is.”

#toh #toh hunter #one shot #toh fanfic #fanfic #writing #cw implied abuse #cw panic attack #i love this poor boy #so much #bad but sad boy

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choibeomcute · 2 years

Text

How Enhypen babies you Pt. 1

Heeseung

Heeseung loves to put you in his clothes. Whether it’s his beanie or a sweater or hoodie or his shirt or his pajamas…he’s just obsessed

“Babe you’re going to have to wear a pair of my pajamas tonight. I haven’t finished doing your laundry yet so we’ll have to share my clothes,” he said with a sly look on his face. “I have to change right now? Heeseungie why can’t I just wait until you’re done with laundry?” you asked with a pout

“Just trust me baby,” he said shoving his pajamas in your face “they’re comfortable! Also I don’t feel like finishing laundry until tomorrow,” he’d say while trying to hide a smile

You stepped into your bedroom and pulled your clothes off and buttoned the long sleeve pajama top. You came back out to complain to Heeseung soon after

“Heeseungie,” you whined “I need help.” You held the pajama pants up at your waist with your fist and looked up at him with the puppy eyes he loved. Heeseung kneeled down in front of you and tied the pants as tight as he could. “Tsk tsk tsk. Who knew you were so small, Y/N?!” he said as he rolled the pant legs up several times. He looked down as he cuffed the pajama pants to hide his smile at your cuteness

Sunghoon

Sunghoon is always making sure to protect you whether it’s from gross men in public…or from thunderstorms…yeah he didn’t think of that one but here you were

It was about six in the afternoon and you had been watching the rain storm down to the ground from the window. You sat on your knees watching from the couch attentively

Just then, a strike of lightning lit up the entire sky with a loud boom of thunder following. Your body panicked and leaped up from the position you were sitting in

Sunghoon was making dinner in the kitchen when you jumped at the storm’s raging sounds. “Babe?” he yelled as he ran over to you. You were sitting on the floor in front of the couch covering your ears in fear

“Baby it’s okay,” he said as his hand brushed your hair back gently. “Did the storm frighten you my love?” he asked as he sat down beside you

You nodded and looked into his eyes. Sunghoon saw your tears welling up and pulled you into his lap to hold you. “Sunghoon what if our house catches fire from the lightning?” you asked while clutching his waist

“Then our fire alarm would go off and we’d get out of here,” he said while making eye contact with you. “No matter what happens I will be here to protect you,” he said while hugging your body

Jungwon

Jungwon loves to sing you to sleep. He just finds it satisfying that he can lure you into your dreams and watch you safely and happily drift off

he loves to sing to you about how you’re the cutest girlfriend in the whole world and your hair is fuzzy and crazy in the morning and he even sings about how you look like an angel while you sleep and your lips get so pouty

Jungwon was getting ready for bed with you and as he threw on some shorts and a big tshirt to sleep in he saw you enter the room in your soft fleece pajamas

“Baby,” he said with a smile “come here,” he gestured with his arms wide open. You jumped into the bed with him and snuggled into his body. “I’m so sleepy,” you yawned while closing your eyes softly

Jungwon held you close against his body as he smiled down at your warm and gentle figure. “My love, it’s time to sleep. Time to drift off into dream world…my princess returns to her castle, with pink clouds and sparkles…La La La” he hummed ending with a giggle

Your lips began to do the sleepy pout they always did when you were seconds from falling asleep and Jungwon knew his song had worked. He loved feeling the soft rise and fall of your body as your breathed and the slight hum you did instead of snoring

While you slept you clutched jungwon’s tshirt in your fist and buried your face into him softly. This always made Jungwon so happy

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can-of-pringles · 2 years

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Similarities - Chapter 6: Insomnia

Rating: Teen and up audience

Warnings: Mild angst with eventual fluff, mention of blood, injuries

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Having paranoid feelings that something was wrong, Henry goes to check on El while she's sleeping.

Note: The gif is slightly misleading. I swear it's not as bad as it sounds alright, please just trust me on this.

Also Read On AO3

No—No! No! Let me go! El’s screams echoed from the long hallways into Henry's mind. He was in Hawkins’ lab, stuck in what felt like a never-ending maze of the familiar white hallways. Why was he getting lost? He had learned the ends and outs of the place several years ago; memorizing it. The bright lights flickered above him, making it difficult for him to focus. He’d grown used to the overwhelming lighting years before, so why did it bother him now suddenly? Hearing her shrieks becoming louder, he made a sharp turn into another identical hall. Henry stopped for a second, needing to catch his breath. He knew he was running out of time. His heart pounded in his chest, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. He started running again, and the familiar ache in his body returned. Let me go! El’s wailing sounded so close. Henry quickly turned around and saw her being forcibly dragged down the hallway, kicking and screaming. Her being so small, the other orderlies easily overpowered her. They held her tightly in their grasp. Too tight. He could make out the bruises on her wrists from them holding her. He nearly exploded with anger at seeing her injuries. “Help me!” Her arms desperately tried to reach out to him. “El!” His feet hit the tile floors harshly as he ran toward her. He was so close. Ready to use his powers to save her. His throat almost closed up from the sudden force of being yanked back, Henry choked and gasped for air. He instinctively reached to claw at his throat and felt the solid and heavy collar. A guard came up behind him and snapped it around his neck. “No!” He hissed. The guard shoved him to the ground, and then kicked him several times in the stomach. Henry shut his eyes and groaned in pain. He curled in on himself and coughed up a mixture of his blood and his saliva. He shuddered. “Henry!” El screeched. He didn’t feel it normally that easily, but genuine fear took place in his mind. Still in excruciating pain, Henry struggled to stand back up. He failed to, once the guard had turned on the collar on the highest setting. His body hit the ground, shaking and convulsing. He couldn’t speak, only the sounds of him choking came out. The tile floor he writhed on felt cold to the touch, but he couldn’t shiver; his whole body felt like it was burning as electrical currents ran through it. Almost miraculously, the shocking came to an end. Henry’s body continued to shake until it was out of his system. When it stopped, he gasped for air and breathed shakily. “No!” He continued to lie there, unable to get up and run no matter how much his mind screamed at him. Using all of his remaining strength, Henry tried to crawl to where El was being taken. He practically dragged his body before reaching his hand out toward her. “El...” His voice was strained and hoarse. He tried to yell, but nothing came out when someone stepped on his hand, crushing it underneath their shoe. “It’s sad, almost.”

Henry cried out, the pain in his hand unbearable. He couldn’t move his fingers. Exhausted, he could only glance up at where the voice was coming from. Dirt from the lab floor stained his face. The only thing that had some sort of effect on it was the semi-dried tears that ran down his eyes. The tiles made his skin feel numb. The ringing in his ears was all he could hear at one point. Henry’s vision felt like it was spinning and out of focus. He struggled to make out who the figure was that stood above him. He felt his heart sink once his vision focused. “Did you really think I’d ever let you leave this place?” Dr. Brenner stared down at him. Henry shuddered and gasped at seeing him. It was like seeing a ghost. “—You or Eleven?” He continued. Finally, giving in to his body’s need for rest, Henry exhaled; closing his eyes. Succumbing to defeat. “Of course not.” The last thing Henry heard before everything faded to black was El’s haunting cries for help.

---

Henry awoke in a cold sweat, instantly sitting up in bed. His heart was beating at a rapid pace. He placed a hand on his chest. He looked around and continued to panic, not automatically recognizing the room. Remembering what just took place, he looked down at his hand and slowly moved it; cautiously bending his fingers. Nothing had been broken. His breathing slowed down some once he remembered where he was. Henry was in his bed, in his room, in his own place; far away from the lab. “It was just another nightmare...” He thought to himself. Most of the time, he knew what was real and what had been a nightmare his brain had created. But occasionally, they felt real. Too real. Sometimes, he wondered if those nightmares were made to punish him for all the bad things he’d done previously. That, or just his trauma and worries, manifesting as dreams. Henry reached for the glass of water that sat on his nightstand. He took a drink and sighed, relieving his previously dried throat. He rubbed his face and pushed the hair out of his eyes. “Just go back to sleep, everything is fine.” Only he couldn’t fully shake his paranoid feelings. The screams from El were stuck in a loop in his mind. Henry frowned. Realistically, he knew nothing had happened, and that she was okay; asleep in her bed. But his intrusive thoughts got louder. What if something had happened? Something so terrible that his mind blocked it out? He knew how crazy it was, but he wasn’t feeling rational at the moment. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew for sure, Henry got out of bed. He stretched and stood for a second in the same place, still waking up. He stifled a yawn as he trudged down the hallway. A completely normal hallway that led to El’s bedroom. Finally, she had an actual bedroom. None with all white walls or floors. No locks to be found. And so did he. It had been almost a full year since they’d escaped from the lab. Admittedly, he had lost count of how long it had been exactly. His mind had been so preoccupied with just trying to survive, to keep them both alive. They were currently living in what was possibly the cheapest, but still livable, apartment he could find. It wasn’t much, but with the basic utilities and privacy, it felt like a safe haven. Especially compared to the abandoned house, they were staying at before. He had been forced to decide about his failing stealing money plan, and ultimately thought it would be for the best to get a job. A choice he disliked, but was successful at achieving. Just a minor job organizing shelves at the library. He had to admit that it was rather peaceful. Hardly anyone bothered him. At least with a job, he had the freedom to choose where he wanted to work. He didn’t have that option before at the lab. He didn’t have any options before if he was being honest. He felt better now with his and El’s fake identifications he’d been able to get made. El was finally calling him by his original name. It felt right. Before, it used to remind him of his family and what happened. But it didn’t bring up any past negative feelings when El said it. She had asked him previously where and how did he get their IDs.

On the IDs, he was Henry Ballard, a combination of his previous names. And El was Eleanor “Ellie” Ballard. Henry had only responded with a slight shrug and a mention of finding someone who could make them. El had rolled her eyes and sighed then but said okay. He knew she didn’t like how many secrets he had, but for most of them, it was to protect her. As for others, sometimes he just didn’t have the energy to explain fully. Perhaps, one day, he’d be ready to tell her everything, but not right now. Overall, life had become so much more for them than just the same old days stuck in a lab. But there was still more to do. When Henry had the time, he’d try to homeschool El. Having available access to the library helped a lot. She had been learning a lot, and her reading skills had improved tremendously. Even Henry had been learning some new things. He had only been a kid when Brenner took him, so he knew there were some things he had missed out on learning. He didn’t mind teaching all that much. It was even enjoyable at times. Henry was genuinely grateful that he and El had accomplished their goal of freedom.

---

(Present)

Her bedroom door creaked a little as Henry slowly opened it. He winced and hoped it hadn’t been too loud. He slipped through the door, having it open just enough for him to fit through. The only light source in the room came from the window. The moon had been out and shone brightly that night. It seeped through the slightest gaps in the window blinds onto El’s bed. Another pastime of theirs was fixing up free busted-up furniture and using it in their home. They had been lucky enough to find beds to fix and use. Henry moved slowly through her room. He stopped once he stood next to the bed. The worry in his senses went away, and he sighed in relief when he saw her asleep in her bed. Nothing had happened to her. She still remained there with him at home. Their home. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, which, in turn, helped him to calm down. The expression on El’s face was one of total peace, something he couldn’t remember seeing at the lab. Her hair had grown out a lot quicker than anticipated. Something he hadn’t expected was her hair being a wavy, borderline, curly texture. The soft curls almost framed her face. Once Henry had felt completely at ease, he went back to bed; pulling up the covers on El’s sleeping form before he left. He settled back into his own bed. His gaze met the blank ceiling. Henry almost felt nervous about falling asleep again. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After seeing El sleeping comfortably in her bed, he hoped it was enough to keep the nightmares away. Falling asleep quicker than he thought, his mind began to dream again. Only this time, it was a pleasant dream of El and him.

#stranger things #001 and 011 au #peter ballard #peter ballard fanfic #henry creel #001 stranger things #stranger things 001 #el stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things season 4 #stranger things fanfiction #my writing #pringles writing

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sayurifellfrost · 2 years

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Break

With flattened ears, S’vexrha hurried herself across the courtyard, taking the outer entrance to the section of the facility she tried to reach with haste.

“And what do you even plan on doing when you get there, Vexrha?” Azrathar’s voice echoed.

Piss him off enough to make him leave them alone.

“So you will make yourself the target of his rage.”

Yes.

“How is that productive to what we aim to achieve regarding yourself?”

.. I won’t be freed anytime soon, Az. I can handle whatever he throws at me, they are just children.

“They are older than what you were when you first came here.”

.. That doesn’t mean they will handle it better.

A sigh made itself heard within, as S’vexrha slammed her palms into the door of the building and shoved it open to let her pass through the doorway - a distant, frightened scream immediately gracing her ears.

No..

Her steps sped up as she felt her heart pounding with a fury, a feeling of dread gripping the pit of her stomach. She made a sharp left turn and hurried down the new hallway she had entered, screams of fear, pain and high-pitched pleas growing louder and louder with each step. She barged her way through the doors and landed in the spectator’s area, a feeling of nausea swelling up as she laid notice to several members of the organisation being sat watching what was unfurling in the arena below.

Andrea and Hrani, two Highlander children, were within it - alongside Milohnev, a Hrothgar nearly equally as wicked as Lumir’s band of torturers. Andrea stood before her younger brother with a rusty blade and a shield too large for her malnourished frame. Blood clung to her tunic while tears of terror streamed down her cheeks.

They had both been terrified since their capture, but the thirteen cycle old girl had done her utmost to keep the seven cycle old boy’s spirits up. S’vexrha had found little moments where she could offer them comfort, even sneak them more proper food. They had been suspicious of her, of course.. She carried the same mark as their captors, and she couldn’t blame them.. But Hrani had taken to her, and Andrea had hesitantly chosen to trust S’vexrha. More so when they had witnessed Ariq throw her down the stairs leading into the basement where the captives were held, and recognised that the collar she wore was the same they had received.

“It appears your Xaela is not here.”

Azrathar’s voice rang out in her mind, snapping her out of her thoughts. S’vexrha hurried up to the edge of the arena, drawing a deep breath as she prepared to yell at the Hrothgar.. Only for him to thrust his spear forwards which Andrea tried to parry with a frightened cry, holding onto a feeble hope that he’d merely withdraw.. But she was swiftly proven wrong, as Milohnev made another swift thrust forwards to pierce the blade into the girl’s side.

Andrea didn’t even scream, her eyes merely widened up with shock and horror as she stared down at the blade that was sunk into her flesh.

“..A-Andrea!” cried Hrani.

S’vexrha froze, the breath she had drawn simply being held as she stared at the scene. Andrea fell to the dirt ground as Milohnev yanked his spear out of her, the younger boy swiftly scrambling over to her as if he was in no danger of being hurt.

Any sound was drowned out by the violent beating of her heart, the familiarity of the scene striking a nerve that sparked the flame of trauma she had desperately tried to choke out during her cycles stuck among these people. Voices were replaced only by her own sobbed cries for her sister, the taunting scoffs of Ariq - and the inconsiderate tone of Gala’ra.

“Vexrha.”

Azrathar’s tone was loud and sharp, serving to snap her back to reality.. Only for flames to immediately flare up along her body, as she saw Milohnev raise his spear once more.

“--NO!”

The sudden yell made the Hrothgar come to a halt, gaze snapping to the Seeker who swiftly heaved herself over the edge of the lowwall to land upon the arena’s dirt floor - immediately heading for them with hurried steps. Milohnev shook his head slightly.

“And what are you gonna do, Vex?” he scoffed. “You know as well as anyone else that you can’t do shit to-”

A blast of flame swept forwards - making the Hrothgar automatically pull back despite carrying the belief that S’vexrha was incapable of hurting them. The Seeker swiftly dropped to her knees by Andrea and Hrani, raising her trembling hands over to press a hand over the young girl’s furiously bleeding side. Her eyes were filled with tears, head gently resting in her brother’s lap.

“.. I got you, alright?” S’vexrha hushed. “I got you..”

Andrea sobbed weakly as the Miqo’te’s hands heated up, a burning sensation reaching her side as S’vexrha desperately sought to cauterise the wound.

“..You will be okay. You will be okay..”

Milohnev snarled and darted a hand out to latch onto S’vexrha’s ponytail, yanking it roughly and making a vicious snarl leave the Seeker as she was torn away from the girl.

“FUCK OFF!”

“This doesn’t fucking concern you, Vex!”

S’vexrha tore herself forwards, only to receive a firmer grasp around her shoulders by the much larger Hrothgar who forcefully held her back.

“GET. OFF. ME.” she screeched. “COVER THE WOUND!”

Hrani breathed a little gasp in retort, his hands reaching over for Andrea’s side to press down upon the wound in an attempt to stall the bleeding while S’vexrha thrashed around violently in her attempt to tear herself out of Milohnev’s grasp. Flames curled around S’vexrha’s frame repetitively, yet actively avoided touching the Hrothgar despite the Seeker’s attempt to command it to do so.

“Vexrha.. There’s nothing to be-..”

I WON’T LET IT HAPPEN! NOT AGAIN!

“The boy cannot stop the bleeding, and they will not let go of you.”

THEN HELP ME!

“Vexrha..”

HELP. ME. AZRATHAR.

“... As you wish.”

Amidst S’vexrha’s struggling, a volatile magic suddenly burst from her frame. Black and teal essence mingling with her flames that blasted onto the Hrothgar, forcing him to let go and withdraw with a scream of pain. She could feel the brand upon her neck burn with a fierce intensity that threatened to floor her entirely from the sheer pain alone, a pain that quickly died out as she could feel Azrathar’s grip of her tighten.

The audience which had watched in amusement suddenly found themselves taken aback, shock settling on their features as one by one they rose from their seats as S’vexrha flung herself back to Andrea, swiftly seeking out her wound. The girl had stopped making sound, but the Seeker was yet to notice as she continued her desperate attempt to burn the wound shut in a feeble attempt to save that which was already lost.

“... She is gone, Vexrha.”

No- No, no, NO!

A choked sob left S’vexrha as her hands dropped down and her head dipped, tears rapidly escaping her pinned shut eyes while Hrani watched on in terror, then slowly looked down at his sister.

“..A-Andrea..?”

The lack of response made the boy whimper, slightly shaking his older sister.

“..A-Andrea! W-wake up!”

The observants in the stands had slowly begun moving closer, while two others had even entered the arena itself - Doza and Nozo, a set of Keeper sisters. The former was tending to Milohnev, while the latter kept an eye on S’vexrha - unease clinging to them all.

“.. I though’ she weren’ able t’hurt us..?” Nozo mumbled quietly.

“She’s not.. meant to be..” Milohnev breathed out sharply, his glare sent in S’vexrha’s direction.

“.. Wha’ do we do?” Doza questioned, peering up at the Hrothgar.

S’vexrha’s clawed digits dug into the dirt floor as she could do nothing but listen to Hrani sob and cry out for Andrea to wake up, sound once again dying out as all she could hear was the beating of her heart - flames flickering along her arms unstably.

“.. Still yourself, Vexrha.”

Azrathar spoke, but she did not recognise any of his words. Her tear-filled eyes slowly opened and she merely stared at Hrani and Andrea, the heartbroken boy clinging desperately to the elder girl.

A painfully spitting image of the day she was captured.

The day she lost her older sister.

A trauma she had not been able to deal with, and reacted incredibly poorly to seeing once more.

A large hand clasped onto S’vexrha’s shoulder, sending her into an immediate fight response as she twisted herself around and yanked a hand from the dirt before sweeping them in the direction of the one who touched her - claws ripping across their forearm and forcing them to retreat.

Tanemoro stood at her side, clutching his bleeding arm with a deep scowl set on his features as he glared at her. She hadn’t even noticed he had entered the arena, much less approached her.

“Get your shit together, they’re just slaves.” Tanemoro admonished.

S’vexrha’s pupils thinned further, her lips parting enough to flash her fangs as she let out a loud snarl.

“Good idea, Tane.” a feminine voice called from the stands. “Tell the slave who was forcefully inducted into the ranks that the children are just slaves.”

Tanemoro glanced up at the Hellsguard who had addressed him, a brow arching.

“She’s been in the ranks for cycles, she should be bloody used to it by now, Isle.”

Diligent Isle gave a light shrug as she leaned against the railing above.

“Doesn't mean she has to like it, does it?”

“Who ca-..”

Tanemoro’s words were promptly cut out as S’vexrha suddenly flung herself up on her feet, flames dancing across her hand which she was quick to swing in the Raen’s direction - slamming a burning fist directly into the centre of their chest and forcing a gasp of pain to leave him as he staggered back, raising a hand to the scorched area.

“Fucking..”

“Don’t–”

Another voice began to call out from the stands, yet Tanemoro did not halt. The Raen snapped his hand over to S’vexrha, swiftly grasping onto the scarf around her neck and yanking her closer - something that proved to be a great mistake as the Seeker responded to his actions by darting her own hands forwards and gripping onto two straps upon his clothing, the flame swiftly travelling from her hands and onto his clothing.

“Is it so fucking hard.. To let people live their own lives.. Without you dickheads fucking ruining everything?!” S’vexrha half-yelled. “What gives you the FUCKING RIGHT?!”

Tanemoro released her scarf as the flames began to scorch his attire further, taking a step back but only bringing the fuming Miqo’te with him as she refused to let go.

“STOP. MESSING. WITH PEOPLE’S. FUCKING LIVES.”

“Get the fuck off me!”

“FUCK YOU.”

With S’vexrha’s deteriorating emotional state came an increase of her aetherical output, making the flames spark up violently and swiftly spread across the Raen’s body before she released him as he scrambled himself back with a scream of agony and fell to the ground to begin rolling around upon it in a feeble attempt to put it out.

“HELP ME!” he screamed.

Nozo swiftly left Doza’s and Milohnev’s side and darted for Tanemoro, uncertain what she could truly do to help him - but it was something she didn’t need to worry about for long, as S’vexrha immediately sent a blast of flames in the Keeper’s direction to force her off course and to withdraw with a little gasp.

“LET HIM FUCKING BURN!”

“Vexrha. Calm yourself.”

Azrathar’s voice rang out in S’vexrha’s head, yet she was either incapable or unwilling to listen to him. Tanemoro’s screams grew louder and louder, as his attempts to kill the flames did absolutely nothing. Those still up in the stands looked between each other, hesitation lingering in their movement - and lack thereof - until Ghoa slowly shook her head and gestured into the arena.

“It’s not my bloody job to tell you to act, get to it.”

The Xaela’s rough tone gained the attention of an additional six individuals, who watched as she swiftly heaved herself over the railing to land in the arena.

“You had your fun, Vex. Back off.” Ghoa called out.

“FUCK. OFF.”

S’vexrha’s words were accompanied by a whirl of flames which was sent in the Xaela’s direction, yet she did not attempt to evade them - instead opting to meet them head-on as she charged forwards. Ghoa tackled S’vexrha to the ground, slamming the Seeker’s skull into the ground as her hands went to clasp around her throat and immediately squeeze. S’vexrha’s own hands latched onto Ghoa, flames continuing to sprawl along her body and climbing up the Xaela’s body in an attempt to engulf her in them.

As the duo struggled, the other six members had finally made their way down into the arena, some by following suit and jumping, others taking the slower and safer route down the stairs. Tanemoro was reached for, as they gave a combined effort to put out the flames - to no avail. Eventually, the Raen’s screams died out and his body fell limp.. Only then, did the flames die out.

“TANE!” Ujisada yelled out, gripping the fellow Raen’s shoulders to shake him.

A sudden burst of flames from S’vexrha forcefully sent Ghoa off her and a few paces back, rolling on the ground with a pained grunt. The Seeker launched herself up on her feet in record time, as the fire seeping from her only grew more and more volatile - and unwilling to listen to her.

“She fucking killed him!” Igleane shouted.

“I WILL KILL ALL OF YOU!”

“Vexrha. Enough.”

Azrathar’s words fell on deaf ears yet again. Diligent Isle withdrew a few steps, slowly raising a hand to her ear to press down upon the linkpearl within.

“..A-Ariq? We-.. we have a problem–”

S’vexrha’s attention honed in on the Hellsguard as Ariq’s name was spoken, the uncontrollable rage seething within her only increasing upon hearing the Xaela’s name. A whirlwind of fire began to sweep around in S’vexrha’s vicinity, threatening to burn anyone getting too close for comfort before a section of it detached and flung in the direction of the Hellsguard, making her release the linkpearl and throw herself aside before any elaboration could be given.

“What?” Ariq’s voice rang through the linkpearls, S’vexrha’s included.

Diligent Isle raised her hand back up, only for S’vexrha to steer her flames back towards her - seemingly intent to hunt down the Hellsguard as she sought to escape the fire. She would, however, quickly learn that outrunning S’vexrha’s flames was a nigh impossible feat for her. The tiniest ember caught onto Diligent Isle’s attire, only to immediately burst into a powerful flame that sought to engulf her wholly.

“SHIT–! VEX!”

Diligent Isle screamed out, trying to press down upon her linkpearl amidst her screaming - yet failing miserably. Ghoa, now back up on her feet, made her way over to Milohnev and snatched onto his spear without a word before she darted towards S’vexrha, forcing herself through the flames and jabbing the spear after the Seeker who snarled out loudly as the blade tore across her thigh. S’vexrha reached down to snatch onto the wooden handle of the spear, promptly setting it alight as she yanked Ghoa over to herself with the grip of it. S’vexrha rammed her skull forwards, slamming her forehead into Ghoa’s violently to make the Xaela stagger and lose her grip of the spear, which the Seeker was quick to twirl in her grasp. She barged the weakening handle of the spear down upon her own knee, snapping it off by the spear’s head which she proceeded to grab onto as if it was a knife.

S’vexrha lunged herself for Ghoa, ramming the blade into the side of the Xaela’s neck before she tore it sideways violently - the veteran member’s eyes widening as blood spilled out her mouth and her hands darted up to grab at her neck before she lost her balance and promptly collapsed. A gurgled attempt at speech left her and she reached a bloodied hand out towards the others - a feeble attempt to beg for help. A short distance away, Diligent Isle’s screaming came to a halt as she, too, collapsed.

“What’s the fucking problem, Isle?” Ariq’s voice rang forth again with an obvious irritation.

Abaroeya shared a glance with Zhivko, a seemingly similar thought reaching the Sea Wolf and Hrothgar as they each gave a vague nod.

“Ujisada, Doza - with us!”

The Sea Wolf’s orders immediately gained the called for’s attention, as the Roegadyn and Hrothgar steered quick steps towards S’vexrha. A nigh feral look had taken to her glowing, crimson eyes - embers flickering around her frame along with the occasional flame that darted across her skin.

Milohnev hurried forwards alongside Nozo while S’vexrha backed away as the other four encroached upon her, swiftly collecting Ghoa as they sought to wrap a piece of cloth around the still alive Xaela’s throat. Dreowaut took his chance, now that S’vexrha was occupied by the combined assault of Abaroeya, Zhivko, Doza and Ujisada, and raised his hand to the linkpearl within his ear, pressing down upon it.

“Vex is the problem!” the Elezen quickly blurted out. “The brand aint fucking working!”

“What the FUCK do you mean the brand aint working?!” Eanwin’s voice blared through the linkpearl, making everyone connected to it flinch from the sheer volume.

“I don’t know what she did, but she’s already killed Tane and Isle - Ghoa is bleeding out!”

“I’m on my damn way.” Ariq growled. “Eanwin–”

“Don’t even fucking say anything.” Eanwin snapped back, and offered no further words.

S’vexrha’s flames had increased in intensity as Ariq’s and Eanwin’s voices emit, as well as from the sheer fact Abaroeya, Zhivko, Doza and Ujisada had engaged her all at once in an attempt to wear her out. However, no matter their numbers.. All but Milohnev had been unarmed, and while S’vexrha now held the blade that had been attached to the spear.. She still had her fire.

She had been backed up against the wall of the arena, hissing and snarling like a cornered wildcat. The burning sensation had returned to her neck, but it was nowhere near as crippling as it was meant to - due to Azrathar’s intervention.

“COME ON, THEN!” S’vexrha yelled at them, her tone carrying a subtle echo. “COME CLOSER AND I WILL KILL THE REST OF YOU!”

“Stand down, Vex.” Zhivko ordered.

“GO FUCK YOURSELF!”

“Do you want to piss off the Boss?!”

“YOU’RE DAMN FUCKING RIGHT!”

“Ain’ worth it, Zhivko. She ain’ listenin’.” Abaroeya shook his head. “Get ‘er and be done wi’ it.”

The Hrothgar merely nodded to acknowledge Abaroeya’s words before he pressed on, S’vexrha’s flames sparking up along with the black and teal essence once more.

“BURN IN HELL!”

————————————————————————————————————————————

“Get out of my fucking way.”

Subordinates were quick to move away as Eanwin stormed through the halls, with Arnkel and Ketenblaet right at her heels. Her rapier was strapped to her belt, something that wasn’t an all too common sight within the walls of the compound - but everyone had heard the call, and knew exactly where she was going.

Eanwin struggled to piece together how S’vexrha had broken through the seal to manage to damage them, especially without alerting her to it. Perhaps her own connection to the brand had grown weaker over the cycles that had passed.

As they entered the hallway leading towards the arena, shouting could be heard - voices easily picked apart as Ariq and S’vexrha, but the words were too incoherent at this distance.. Unlike a feminine scream of pain that followed shortly after their enraged yelling.

Their pace picked up, and they soon passed the threshold into the spectator’s area, where they found themselves halting immediately and being taken aback at the sight.

Eleven adult bodies laid strewn across the violently scorched earth of the arena, most of them covered in severe burns while others had obviously been stabbed. Eanwin could recognise Igleane - who laid flatly on her back with the bladed tip of a broken off spear impaled through her eye socket, pinning her skull to the ground.

The slave children, Andrea and Hrani, remained in the arena - neither of them alive. The girl had signs of previous battle underneath the burns that now littered her body, but the boy.. He had just been burned, and now laid halfway over his sister’s body.

.. Did Vex do that..?

Eanwin’s gaze moved to settle upon Ariq and S’vexrha, now that she had observed the utter carnage left behind by the rampaging Seeker. Even from this distance, she could tell that the Miqo’te’s aether was acting up much more volatile than ever before..

She could also tell that Ariq, who was pursuing the flaming Seeker with an axe at the ready, had no intentions to back down.

“Ariq, back off!” Eanwin yelled.

She gained no response, and had to observe Ariq slam his axe into S’vexrha’s thigh, sending her to the ground with a shrill scream of pain while flames shot up towards the Xaela, catching onto his attire and trailing his entire body.

“.. Ket!”

“On it.”

The Sea Wolf lunged himself over the railing and landed on his feet, raising his hand to grip the axe attached to his back before he charged forwards. The Roegadyn managed to swiftly place himself between Ariq and S’vexrha, bringing his axe up to let the Xaela’s own axe slam into it - staring into his nigh glowing eyes.

“Y’eard the lady, Ariq. Back off.” Ketenblaet admonished.

The Xaela, once again, did not respond. He withdrew his axe.. And promptly swung it forwards - after Ketenblaet, forcing the Roegadyn to engage him in a more proper manner. Eanwin grit her teeth in her growing frustration as she realised Ariq had lost himself to anger.. At such a horrible time. She heaved herself over the railing and gripped her focus in her fall, immediately beginning to channel aether into it as she steered her steps towards S’vexrha, who’s movements had gotten much slower. The Seeker seemingly struggled to breathe properly, several gashes lacing her attire as she slowly tried to crawl away.

“Oh no you don’t!”

S’vexrha turned her head as Eanwin came up to her, snarling viciously and swatting a flaming fist after the Highlander, who swung a foot forwards and slammed it down upon the Seeker’s forearm to promptly send it into the ground, pinning it beneath her as she dropped down to S’vexrha. Her hand went to latch onto the back of the Seeker’s neck, an immediate burning taking to S’vexrha’s skin as she screamed out and lunged her free hand for Eanwin, clasping onto the wrist of the hand which held her focus as flames flared up.

Eanwin yelled out in pain as the fire burned her wrist, the hand upon S’vexrha’s neck releasing it and instead going to grasp the Seeker’s ponytail, before slamming her head downwards and into the ground.

“Eanwin!” Arnkel yelled out from atop the stands.

“I’m FINE.” she snapped back.

S’vexrha swung her free hand after the Highlander, tearing her clawed nails across her boot and ripping at the leather, while Eanwin’s hand returned to her neck and she resumed her previous actions - channelling more and more aether into the brand which clung to S’vexrha’s neck.. With surprising difficulty.

It felt as if something was fighting against her and trying to overpower her aether, despite that S’vexrha certainly wasn’t.

“What the hell..?”

A sudden blast of fire was sent Eanwin’s way, trapping her within its searing embrace as she found herself caught off-guard by the accompanying essence that clung to S’vexrha’s, the hue of her fire having taken on a more black and teal tint as it was brought forwards.

Eanwin cried out in pain and tore herself away from the Seeker, her focus dropping to the ground as her hands darted up for the left side of her face - where the flame had struck. Arnkel watched in horror, before he quickly threw himself over the railing and darted towards Eanwin.

S’vexrha took this moment to scramble herself up on her feet unsteadily, limping away a few steps to distance herself from the others, despite finding herself trapped in a corner with Eanwin and Arnkel on one side, and the battling Ketenblaet and Ariq on the other.

A female Midlander slowly passed the threshold to enter the spectator’s seating area, purple gaze resting upon those present before a sigh left her from beneath her mask as it passed over to Ariq. The woman reached one hand for a vial that sat attached to her belt, and another for an arrow that sat in the quiver hanging over her shoulders. The contents of the vial were dripped onto the arrowhead before it was corked and returned to her belt, and the Midlander opted to grasp the bow slung over her torso.

The arrow was swiftly nocked and the Hyur took aim.. Of Ariq. Once confident her arrow would land where she wished, she released it and watched it promptly pierce the Xaela’s thigh - sending him down on one knee. The paralytic poison which had been placed upon the arrowhead was quick to act, spreading through the Xaela’s bloodstream before he dropped down on his side.

Ketenblaet turned to stare up at the black and purple haired Midlander, who merely gestured towards S’vexrha - bringing her to the Sea Wolf’s attention. He merely gave a nod before turning after the Seeker, dropping his axe and swinging a fist towards her skull that was swift to connect and make her head slam into and bounce off the wall.

Dazed, S’vexrha collapsed - feeling a wet sensation run down her right temple. A swift kick was delivered to her side, sending her back into the wall along with a loud crack that wrenched a cry of pain from her. Ketenblaet was quick to crouch down to her, one hand swiftly locking around her throat before he put an intense amount of strength behind it a squeeze - intending to choke out the struggling Seeker as quickly as possible.

Flames darted across his arm yet he refused to let go, spending some time merely glaring at her while she kicked and squirmed, before her eyes rolled back in her skull and consciousness escaped her.

#S'vexrha Tchuma #IC #TW: Death

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