Kréme / Driller Oneshots

Irreparable

It's been a month since I updated sorry but I've been on holiday 😎 even experienced my first holiday romance in Italy so 🎉

Anyway so this idea came to me after reading the Endhawks fic 'Where the Archangels go' by surveycorpsjean on A03. They also inspired the One night only series so if you like MHA then read their stuff it's godly.

Anyway, the plot won't be hard to grasp 😁

3,000 words for you all

He hadn't thought anything different when he'd struck Killer.

The assassin was always getting hit, pummelled and broken. But he always got back up. Broken arm? No problem. Shattered ribcage? Deal with the pain later. Killer was the sort of fighter that was relentless, and Dream had almost respected him for that. He may be fighting for the wrong cause, but he certainly stuck to it. There was little question of his loyalty.

Panting heavily, his back pressed to a tree truck, Dream waited. He could feel his left shoulder was dislocated, leaving no chance to use his bow. It didn't matter, long distance fighting wasn't an option when your opponent makes it his goal to ensure you never stray more than five meters away from him. Blood stained his clothes so thickly that he knew he'd have to burn them. No amount of washing cycles would ever clear this mess. With his right hand he felt gingerly over his ribcage, counting three broken. Three was manageable.

Voice rasping, he spoke. "Playing dead only works on dumb animals." He assumed the other was plotting something, goading him to come over and investigate so he could roll over and jab a knife into his chest. Yes, that was right, he could see one of Killer's arms tucked under his chest. It was a trick.

Yet his body didn't move. He lay there in the snow, as if stunned. It occurred to Dream after a moment that the assassin's arm wasn't tucked, it was bent at a funny angle. Blood speckled the ground.

He was alive, that was certain. He could hear his wheezing breaths, followed by gurgling spits of blood. And then came the yelling. It was anguished, like the cry of a mortally wounded animal. It made his bones itch. He watched as Killer's good arm moved, clutching at his skull frantically before hitting into the ground. His body shuddered, trying to heave himself off of the ground before falling back down with a cry.

Something wasn't right.

Dream only made it two steps forwards before an axe thudded into the wood of the tree behind him. It split the bark cruelly, sap oozing down its iron surface. His staff clattered to the floor and he froze, golden pupils watching his own muddy reflection for a second. He looked mockable, scared. By the time he turned his vision back to Killer, bodies were blocking him from view.

Horror crouched over him, dirty fingers hovering anxiously over the other's body, as if scared to touch him. "Killer..?" His voice was scratchy, and scared. He didn't think he'd ever seen the brute scared before.

Hissing, Cross pushed him out of the way, knees thudding into the ground as he fell beside his friend. "Get up man, come on-" The clash of weapons sounded behind them and he glanced over his shoulder to see Dust knocking Ink off his feet and Nightmare slamming Blue into a tree so hard that his skull split. The stillness that overcame Blue's body was sickening.

Killer was still wailing, a haunting sound that echoed through the forest. It was disturbing. As he twisted on the floor Dream caught sight of his face. It was covered in blood. His spine scraped against damp bark. Had he hit him that hard? He could hardly remember, only recalling that he'd swiped his spear in an arch during the fight. Killer had been too close; his skull had been struck.

Cross cursed, strong arms scooping beneath the assassin's shaking body and lifting him up. Killer seemed to not know what was happening, scrabbling. A blade narrowly missed Cross' cheek.