#((rubs my grubby little hands together as i continue yet another ask | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelamajiki · 4 years ago

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PARINGS: Pro Hero! Dabi x Sister! Reader

TW: yandere, incest, no con, voyeurism, choking, burning, unprotected/no prep sex, breeding/creampies, snowballing, public sex, degradation, lots of dirty talk

AN: WHEEWW my first fic in a while, so excited for my first join intro collab!! thank you to the lovely jo for writing it <33 enjoy

A BNHarem Server Collab! Check out the other works here.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

Christ, what a load of bullshit the news was nowadays. Constantly whining and squealing about what heroes did and didn’t do, promoting fear-mongering like it was the hottest trend. Between your father and two older brothers dedicating their life to the cause of justice, the world always felt just a little safer to you, the naive little thing that you were. And tonight was no exception.

Despite the rapidly increasing crime rates, your judgment to grab a couple of drinks in the city with your friends was hardly swayed. The stress of it all was getting to you and you’d love nothing more to drink your heart out at one of the few spots still left open. It was a sleazy place, but it was fun. If anything, you found a bar in the area where your eldest brother was currently stationed patrolling.

Touya had always been protective of you ever since the two of you were children, and he carried that same possessiveness well into your adulthood. Always chasing off any potential suitors, keeping you out of trouble, and generally being a menace to anyone who thought they were good enough to be around his favorite little sister.

By the end of the night, stumbling around drunkenly was the only thing keeping you upright as you made your way out of the club and onto the street, looking for a taxi to get you home. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, a mess of blue and red lighting up the darkened streets.

“Hey sweetheart. Need a hand?”

Grubby hands met your arms the same time the cool air of the night did, tugging and pulling at you to come closer, wherever that may be. Jaunts and laughter echoed off the buildings, only adding to the haziness the alcohol induced. “What’s a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all on your lonesome?”

Weak attempts to push the group of assaulters off you were in vain as they groped and squeezed your body at their pleasure. “Come on, we’re just trying to keep ya company. Right, boys?”

“Stop..”

Your whine came across much more pathetic than you could have ever hoped, only earning more chuckles from the men. “Just relax, sweetheart. We’ll take good care of you.”

Blue flames danced around the group of you, closing the lot of you against the building wall in a small circle of fire.

“Will you now? Last I checked, I'm the only man suited for that.” Touya was less than amused to have found out from Fuyumi that you traveled into the city given its state, even more so when he saw how drunk and disorderly you were being.

“T-Touya-nii!”

The men untangled themselves from you with ease, tossing you into the arms of your expectant brother, who was more than glad to pull you into a tight embrace. “Shit! It's the number three, Heatstroke!”

The comforting warmth of his body and scent of his cologne settled your frantic nerves, tucking yourself closer into his arms. “Honestly, it’s like you're asking for it at this point.”

Your heart sank low in your chest, but you couldn't find the strength to move away from him as he scowled down at you.

“Look at what you're wearing, you little tease. Bet you would have loved to have them violate you, huh slut?”

Never has Touya been so venomous with you before; it made your heart hurt, even more, to see your beloved nii-san be so cruel.

“Don’t you worry, that’s why your big brother is here to show you who you really belong to.”

Shoved against the wall, he pinned your trembling form with his right knee in between your legs and his hands wandering over your skimpy dress.

“You boys can stick around to watch; let a real man show you how it's done.”

Flames singed at your dress, burning it to ashes to expose you in the cool wind of the night. Hot fingers pressed into your skin, littering marks in their wake before they wrapped around your throat. “You were just begging for nii-san to come to save your slutty ass, huh, princess? I know you checked my patrol schedule before ending up at this dive.”

His hand tightened around your neck, his lips at your ear. “Wanted nii-san to come put you in your place, yeah? After fuckin’ teasing me all these years, you finally cracked me. Are you proud of yourself, little girl?”

A whine slipped from your constricted throat, your smaller hand gripping at the large one squeezing you with everything it had. “And now you've got an audience to witness my ownership over you. You're mine, little girl.”

Finally releasing your throat, his hands traveled down to your chest and groped at your roughly, pinching and pulling at your soft, sensitive nipples. Bile was rising in your throat as you drowned in your own fear, feeling him drag you into the depths of depravity.

“What’s the matter, imouto? I thought you said I was your favorite. You're hurting my feelings, y’know.”

“Touya, please-”

A scoff slapped you hard in the face as his knee jerked up against your cunt. “Don’t start with me. I know who you really are and what you really want, even better than yourself.”

His words stabbed at your heart, and his wandering hands only seemed to pour salt over the wounds. “You’re nothing more than my whore, little sister.”

Hips ground against your backside in a slow, teasing manner, groans pushing past his lips as he did so. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

His erection was pressed flush against you, straining in his pants before he unzipped himself. At this point, you were more than sobered up running on fear and adrenaline alone. Your panties were ripped clean off with his free hand while the other stroked his hardening cock. “Look at me.”

The tip was aligned with your hole, rubbing slightly to gather the minimal wetness between your lips. “I said look at me.”

Teary eyes peaked up at him through wet lashes, silently pleading with a man who was not known for mercy.

“Good fuckin’ girl, so obedient for your big brother.”

With one snap of his hips, Touya fully sheathed himself inside of your tight cunt, groaning at the way you squealed for him. “Aw, you like that, huh, princess. Feeling good?”

A warbled moan was the only response you could give him as he slowly began to pull out. The alcohol had you buzzing enough to block out the pain of the stretch, and damn did you feel filled to the brim.

“Can’t wait to breed this greedy little cunt of yours.”

His pace was slow, agonizingly so. Touya couldn't help but savor every second of the first time having been inside you, especially after dreaming about it for so long. God, if it didn't turn him on to have an audience, knowing that these men knew he was fucking his sister.

What would the media think? God, the news cycle would be ripped to shreds tomorrow over this breaking story. But hey, no PR is bad PR.

The thought of finally having staked his claim in you almost had him coming prematurely, but he had to hold out for your very first time together, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Heh, your crying face was so cute. Those tears weren't shy by any means and neither were your sobs. It's alright, you’ll learn to love being Touya’s cocksleeve.

“Say you love me.”

An impossible request when you're being violated by the person you held dearest to your heart.

His pace had picked up brutally, slamming into you without care for his flames spreading wildly nor the group of assaulters who seemed to vanish once they had the opening to.

“I-I love you, nii-san! I love you!”

Your cries were shrill and whiny, echoing into the chaotic night. The grip on your hips was heating up, so much so that his handprints were burned into your love handles.

“Good girl, good little slut.”

His breathing was erratic, hot against your neck as he growled and grunted into your ear. “Gonna let nii-san breed this pretty little pussy? Yes, you are. I know you are because you're fuckin’ mine, bitch.”

Moaning out your name, Touya came deep inside your womb, thick ropes of his cum painting your insides. You were soon to follow thanks to his thumb against your clit, causing you to writhe and whine in his arms.

Utterly spent, you rested against the brick wall you were pinned to, feeling the cum drip out of your still filled hole.

“Let’s get you home and into my bed, princess. I gotta go have a chat with Dad and Shouto, let ‘em know you’re fully off limits now.”

— tagging: @libiraki @bonesoftheimpala @tomurasprincess @sightoru

#yandere dabi x reader #yandere dabi #dabi #dabi x reader #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha #yandere bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #yandere x reader #yandere

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valhallanrose · 3 years ago

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The Glacier House

This is a rewrite of A Kindling, of Sorts. While the same premise, it is vastly different in terms of content. Astoria is still thirteen, as is Sachairi, and Edrine is twelve, and this fic occurs two years after Canary in a Coal Mine.

Pronouns used in this fic: Astoria (she/they), Edrine (she/they/he)

Edrine refers to Avery as “Ava”, pronounced ‘Ah-vah’, rhyming with Mama, as a parental endearment.

4.6k words. Cautionary CW for discussions of food and some real shitty parenting.

Title: The Glacier House by The Crane Wives

In the early hours of morning, Castle Kintyre began to stir, the hearths burning high to combat the mid-winter cold and staff passing through the halls to begin their duties for the day. Many of the Canonach family would not wake for a while yet, emerging slowly over the course of the next few hours to stumble to the breakfast table for their morning caffeination.

Of all the children who lived in the castle, only one would willingly rise with the sun, leaving Catriona the sole person awake in their bedroom that morning.

They slowly pushed themself up from the cushions and yawned, stretching their arms over their head as far as they could go until their back popped. And then they stretched out their legs, a little quicker than they meant to, only for their foot to come into contact with a head of curly hair.

Edrine yelped, bolting upright with a bleary expression on her face and her curls sticking up in nearly every direction as she rubbed a hand over her face.

“Ow...Catty, why’d you kick me?” She mumbled, yawning and covering her mouth with one hand. “That was rude. We haven’t even had breakfast.”

“Would you prefer I kick you after breakfast?”

“At least it’d be a respectable hour.” Edrine swung out a foot, launching her toes into the remaining slumbering party’s side with a dramatic sigh. “Get up, Sachy, if I have to be awake, you have to be awake. I don’t think Catriona actually sleeps.”

The child in question scoffed, gathering the cushions up and tossing them loosely on the bed. “I do sleep. I simply prefer not to spend all morning sleeping like you lot.”

“Boohoo, I like to relax, is that such a terrible thing?”

“Both of you, shut up.” Sachairi groaned as he pressed his face into a throw pillow. “The hour is ungodly and one of us has to have the beauty rest to be the pretty one.”

Edrine let out a cry of indignation and smacked him with a pillow as Catriona pointedly ignored them both, picking up the brush from the vanity and carefully pulling it through their hair. They would continue to watch with some amusement before Sachairi sat up, eyeing Catriona skeptically.

“Wait, you’re actually getting ready? Why? It’s hours before breakfast is ready.”

“Well, cousin, if you actually got up early, you’d know at this hour you can raid the kitchens and get nearly anything you want. I for one don’t like to dodge Erskine’s grubby hands to get to the butteries every morning.”

“Erskine?” Edrine echoed, and Sachairi nodded with a grimace.

“Aunt Flora’s kid. They’re two and they tend to always have sticky hands, no matter how often they’re washed. Good thinking, Catty.”

“It may shock you, but I am, in fact, intelligent.”

“Shocking.” Edrine drawled, only to yelp and laugh as Catriona turned around and whipped the nearest throw pillow at them with a look of wild indignation on their face. She threw it back, and the room dissolved into chaos, laughter mixing with the morning birdsong through the cracked window

They didn’t notice the bedroom door open until Sachairi threw a pillow that sailed through the opening and smacked firmly against Myrna’s face, all three of them freezing in place as it dropped quietly to the floor and left her startled expression in its place.

Myrna lifted a brow, adjusting her grip on her cane so she could lean down to pick up the offending pillow. She dusted it off and weighed it in her hand, considering it before she looked up to look at the children again.

“Who threw this?”

The trio looked at each other nervously for a moment before Sachairi sheepishly raised a hand.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Myrna, I didn’t know you were -”

Sachairi was promptly cut off as Myrna whipped it back, hitting his chest and making him take a step back - only to trip over a few pillows on the floor and falling square on his ass. Catriona slapped a hand over their mouth as Edrine buried her face in her pillow, laughter hardly muffled.

“Good throw, Sachairi, your arm is getting better.” Myrna’s lips twitched, as if threatening a laugh of her own, and she folded her hands over the top of her cane. “I just wanted to warn you all to be careful if you go out on the grounds today. Sholto, Grace, and Rabbie have decided to go hunting, and I don’t want anyone getting squished under a horse. Sounds fair?”

“Sounds fair.” They all chirped, and Myrna nodded, reaching for the doorknob and starting to pull the door shut.

“Also, I’d get to the kitchens soon if I were you. I hear they’re making cinnamon-sugar scones as part of breakfast this morning, and you can get first dibs when the batch comes out.”

And, as if she knew what chaos would ensue, Myrna closed the door just as all three children exchanged a look and dove for their respective outfits that had been laid out the night before, taking turns in the bathroom to change and shoving each other around playfully to use the mirror attached to Catriona’s vanity.

Stifling laughter as to not wake any still sleeping members of the family, they descended the stairs - arms linked, with Sachairi on the right and Edrine on the left and Catriona happily in the middle - and snuck into the kitchens. They peered around the corner through the bustling room, only for their eyes to zero in on the batch of scones on a tray left unattended on the counter.

“Don’t even think about it.” Barclay boomed, making all three of them jump noticeably before Catriona turned and pouted up at him with the sweetest look they could muster.

Barclay had been the head of the kitchens for as long as most of the family could remember, and while he was rather no-nonsense with the adults, he had a soft spot for the children in the family. Sort of like another uncle - not that any of the Canonachs needed more aunts and uncles - who kept an eye out for them and made sure they took care of themselves. But he was uncannily quiet in step, meaning none of the younger crew got away with truly stealing things so much as he just pretended not to see it.

“Those just came out of the oven. You’ll burn your fingers.” He opened the warming cupboard over their head and pulled out a fabric wrapped bundle, depositing it neatly in Catriona’s arms. “Take these instead and scoot. And take an apple on your way out for my peace of mind.”

He waved his hands, shooing them away, but Catriona caught his smile when they called out a “Thank you!” over their shoulder and ran out giggling to find a place to eat.

* * * * *

Catriona tended to avoid the breakfast table, usually full of some degree of bickering and healthy debate over clan affairs. It’d been especially intense since their mother had become Baroness, opening a door for new policy and leadership to see what new directions they could lead the clan in now that a new generation had come to the forefront.

So instead, the three of them squeezed into a window nook overlooking the grounds, picking at their scones and watching the cattle in the distance through idle conversation.

“You two don’t have lessons, do you?” Edrine asked around a mouthful of scone, and Catriona shook their head, idly twisting off the apple stem as they spoke.

“No, we’re off until after Hogmanay. Our tutors are all going home for the holidays - our last lesson was the day before you all arrived.”

Sachairi snorted, flicking his own apple stem at his cousin once he tore it free. “Like you’re not going to spend most of the holiday holed up in the library. If Edrine weren’t here, you’d probably be there right now.”

“Well, it’s not like I can do much else on my own. I don’t need to ask permission to read.” Catriona mused, and Sachairi nodded with a sigh, then elbowed their arm lightly.

“Fair enough. Maybe we can ask Edrine’s parents to take us to Rosafearn, though. I think you’d like the decorations they’re putting up in the square.”

“Mama and Ava want to go, so I’m sure they’ll say yes.” Edrine piped up, leaning her head on Catriona’s shoulder. “Myrna told Ava that the hot chocolate is better here than it is in Ardaleith and they think she’s full of shit.”

Sachairi laughed around his scone, then choked, leaving Catriona to frantically smack his back until he stopped coughing and waved them off. Edrine seemed completely unbothered, taking the opportunity to instead break a piece off his scone when he wasn’t paying attention.

“You don’t think your mom will come with us, do you?”

Catriona shook their head, dusting off their hands of the cinnamon and sugar and folding the fabric napkin neatly in their lap. “Probably not. She’s been all about the ‘new happy family’ since Malcolm was born, so I think she’ll leave us be. Fine with me, though, mother always makes things weird with Avery.”

Edrine nodded and sighed, lacing her fingers together behind her head and leaning back against the windowpane. “Yeah...Ava won’t tell me, but I think they had an argument a while ago. Baroness Senga didn’t even invite us this year, Malvina and Myrna did. I don’t think she even said hello when we got here.”

“Auntie doesn��t like most of the clan leaders, so I wouldn’t take it personally.” Sachairi shrugged, then raised a brow at Catriona’s perplexed expression. “Contrary to what you may believe, I do listen to things.”

Both Edrine and Catriona looked incredulous at that, and Sachairi rolled his eyes, playfully shoving Catriona into Edrine’s side and shaking his head.

“Whatever. Catty, since you’re done, can you go ask Avery or Rima if they want to go into town today?”

“You just want me to ask because you know Avery likes me.”

“It’s a strategy.” Sachairi lightly nudged them off the window seat, waving as they rolled their eyes and began the walk down the hall toward the guest wing where the Maollosas had been offered rooms.

Catriona was happy to wander for a little while - they weren’t sure where Avery or Rima could be, so it was something of a necessity - and they hummed softly to themself as they passed through halls and the library and peered out windows to see if they had gone to the gardens, but knowing they couldn’t venture upstairs yet unless Sachairi or Edrine came to find them first.

They were about to walk past the slightly cracked door to the dining room - the place the family usually shared their meals when there were no greater events in the castle - when they paused, hearing familiar voices drifting out into the quiet hallway.

“You can’t avoid me forever, Senga.”

“I certainly don’t have to speak to you outside of clan affairs, and you are not here on clan business.”

Curious, Catriona crept closer, realizing that the first they heard was Avery and almost pushing the door open - and then freezing when they heard their mother’s voice in response.

They peered in the gap in the door, watching with wide eyes as Avery put together a breakfast plate from the spread slowly being placed over the table.

“You have every right to hold what happened over my head, but there’s no reason we can’t be civil when we share the same space, at least for the sake of Edrine and Catriona -”

“You do not get to speak to me about my child.” Senga’s plate clattered to the table, making Catriona jump slightly at the sudden sound. “I don’t want their name in your mouth until I hear an apology first, Maollosa, and being civil is not throwing you out the second I found out my mother invited you here.”

“Oh, only surnames now? Fine, we’ll play it your way.” Avery set their plate down far more neatly, popping a berry into their mouth. “I regret that I created an issue in your home and I apologize for what resulted, but I won’t apologize for my actions. You did a bloody awful thing, keeping the truth from Catriona, and it was high time someone told them.”

“It was not your place -”

“When would you have told them? When they turned sixteen, in the middle of their declaration? ‘Surprise, Catriona, you’re an heir to the nation, but we didn’t think you deserved to know that until we announced it to the rest of Rosinmoor. Hope you don’t mind!’”

“Well, what you did certainly wasn’t much better, was it? They were inconsolable, Avery, blubbering absolute nonsense about not wanting to be the oldest and asking me about abdication, of all things. It was too much for them, they’re fragile, you should know that if you think you know what’s best for them.”

Catriona slowly leaned out of the gap, still listening, but feeling the familiar burn of tears in the corners of their eyes as they leaned against the wall beside the door and let out a shaky sigh.

So it was their fault, then. They wondered idly if they should apologize to Avery for getting so upset all that time ago, or if it were too late now.

Avery’s voice rose slightly, their calm exterior breaking as Senga’s own tone changed to one of anger that Catriona knew well.

“Gods above, Senga, maybe they do want to abdicate, maybe they’ll change their mind, but that doesn’t change how large of a secret you kept from them. Catriona -”

“Do not say their name -”

“Catriona is not as fragile as you think they are, which you’d know if you gave them more than scraps of your time and attention.” Avery hissed. “We told Edrine at eight - eight - with at least an age appropriate version so she wasn’t blindsided when other clans started asking questions. This is an unavoidable fact of our lives, and they should know what choices they have to make one day, no matter how much time you can give them before you have to step down.”

“It doesn’t matter, Avery, the outcome would have been the same no matter when I told them. Get off your high horse and let it go. That’s how you can get your civility.”

There were a few long, heavy beats of pause where Catriona dared peek back inside, only to quickly lean back out of sight

They’d never seen Avery look so angry.

“What the hell do you mean ‘the outcome would have been the same’?”

“Catriona knows their obligations to the clan, and I won’t allow them anything other than what they’ve been raised for all these years. As the oldest, it is the duty they were born for. I would think you of all people, with your own child as your heir, would understand that.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t understand how you can look that child in the eye, see how miserable they are the way they’re living now, and insist that what you’re doing is right. I don’t understand why it is so important to you that Catriona be the next Baronet when Sachairi is only two months younger and just as capable, and seems to actually be interested in -”

Avery suddenly stopped mid sentence, and by Senga’s snarled ‘what?’, must have been making some clear expression that revealed their train of thought.

“Son of a bitch, you did it on purpose.” Avery said, so quiet that Catriona had to strain to hear. “You had them to make sure that if you didn’t get the title, you could get your hands on it through them. You were third in line, but if Grace or Quinn had taken the Barony, Sachairi still wouldn’t be heir because you had a child first.”

Catriona’s heart stalled in their chest, eyes fixed on the door as if staring through it to look at the place where they heard their mother’s voice last.

Please, mother, say it’s not true. Say that something, anything, please, please -

“And if I did?”

She hadn’t denied it.

Catriona nearly crumpled, staggering back from the door and turning to run, not caring in the slightest if their mother or Avery heard their footsteps as they raced through the passages to try and find somewhere to hide. The tears welled up and began to spill over, but they clasped a hand over their mouth to try and stifle the sound as they ran blindly through the passages to try and reach their bedroom.

A part of them had wondered - they were smart, and some things they had been told simply didn’t make sense - and especially so since Avery had told them the truth, but to hear it confirmed made it feel like their heart was breaking into pieces.

They paid no mind to their mother’s rules when they darted up the stairs, two at a time, trying to make it to their bedroom before they completely broke down -

Only to crash directly into their grandmother.

Myrna stumbled, leaning hard on her cane with one hand and wrapping her arm around Catriona’s shoulders to catch them both until they both regained their footing. She’d hardly opened her mouth to ask if they were alright before she noticed the tears spilling down her grandchild’s cheeks as they rushed to apologize.

Finding their grandmother, the most comforting presence they knew, was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“I’m - I’m sorry, granny, I didn’t mean to -”

Myrna took a good look at them, really looked at them, then quickly pulled them back in for a hug that left Astoria burying their face in the fabric of Myrna’s shirt to try and stifle their whimpers.

“Oh, please, darling, don’t apologize. I’ve suffered worse than a simple tumble.” Myrna kissed the top of their head, smoothing a hand over their hair for a moment before she cupped their cheek in one hand. “What’s wrong? I know you wouldn’t cry like this over a simple bump. Come, come, we’ll go sit. Take a breath for me, alright?”

Shakily, Catriona nodded, wiping her cheeks with her sleeves as Myrna gently led them to their bedroom and closed the door behind them. Myrna crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, and then gently patted the space beside her for them to sit.

“Deep breaths, darling, I’ll be here.” Myrna set her cane aside to wrap both arms around Catriona, hushing them gently and rubbing a hand up and down their back to try and soothe them as best she could. “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me what happened, yes?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, they calmed, enough to try their best to recount what they’d overheard in the dining room, unable to meet Myrna’s eyes as they repeated the phrases that stuck out in their mind and refused to escape. They only managed to look up when they finished and their granny said nothing, the silence between them so thick and heavy they thought they could cut it with a knife.

Myrna looked like fury hardly contained - white knuckled grip on the quilt, expression dark, angrier than Catriona had ever seen their usually energetic grandmother in all their years.

“Are you...are you mad at me, granny?” They asked timidly, shrinking back as Myrna shook her head slightly. “I know it’s bad to eavesdrop…”

“No, I’m not upset with you.” Myrna got out, eyes fixed on a spot on the carpet as her jaw visibly ticked. “But I am furious with your mother. The absolute nerve of her - Avery is a guilty party, starting this where anyone could hear, but far less so than her -

They flinched as Myrna shot to her feet, cane abandoned as she paced slowly around the carpet. “Please don’t tell them I was listening, granny, mother would get so upset with me for spying…”

“That’s her own damn fault for saying it in the first place.” Myrna snarled, then froze when Catriona let out a small whimper at the intensity of her tone.

She let out a breath, trying to calm herself down enough so that she could school her expression back into one of neutral calm. For as angry as she was...there were more important things at hand.

Slowly, Myrna stepped closer, kneeling in front of Catriona after a bit of effort and clasping their hands tightly in both of her own.

“I want you to listen to me, and I need you to listen well. You understand?”

Catriona nodded, lowering their eyes to their clasped hands as Myrna leaned her forehead against theirs and let out a sigh.

“No human is perfect. I make mistakes, your great aunts and uncles and your cousins make mistakes, your father made mistakes in the time I knew him. Your mother is no exception - she has made many mistakes in her lifetime, Catriona, but you are not one of them, and damn her for making you think otherwise. There is not a day that goes by where I am not grateful for your birth, a day where I am not filled with joy when I come home and see the way you smile at me and welcome me back, a day where I do not love you for who you are and how proud I am to call you my grandchild.”

Myrna squeezed their hands again as she heard Catriona sniffle, uncaring of the tears of her own that were beginning to slide down her cheeks. “Astor loved you. Balfour loved you, gods rest them both. Your cousins love you. I love you. You are so, so loved, my darling, and it breaks my heart to know that you have doubted it for even a moment as a result of someone else’s cruel words.”

She released Catriona’s hands to cup their cheeks, tilting their head down to press a few kisses to their brow.

“What do I do, granny?” Catriona whispered, laying their hands over Myrna’s and squeezing their eyes shut. “Mum said...mum said she had me so I could be the Baronet, but I don’t…”

Myrna leaned back slightly, enough to look Catriona in the eye when she tipped their chin up and waited for them to tentatively meet her gaze despite the tears that filled both their eyes.

“Damn the barony. Damn all of it, Catty, because the barony means nothing if you are not happy. No title, no amount of money, no amount of power, nothing is worth giving up your happiness. No matter what your mother says, you have a choice, and if that choice is throwing everything she wanted for you at her feet, then I will stand behind you because I know it is what you want. No one can make you be anything that you don’t want to be.”

Catriona tried to swipe at their cheeks, but the tears only fell faster before Myrna pulled them into a tight embrace right there on the fur rug beneath them both. They sat together a long, long while, Catriona’s face buried in Myrna’s neck and Myrna holding onto Catriona like she was afraid they’d disappear. It would only be when Catriona quieted that Myrna would speak up, her voice gentle and thick with emotion all her own that she’d been trying to keep at bay for the sake of comforting their grandchild.

“Sweetheart, I want you to think about something.” Myrna murmured, prompting Catriona to lift their head and look up at her to show she was listening. “I won’t be staying here after Hogmanay ends. I have to go north, up to Prakra to speak to some colleagues, and then I’ll be going to Firent to work on a dig site. I’ll be gone from here for about two months, perhaps longer if I’m asked elsewhere. But...I want you to think about coming with me this time.”

“Come with you?” Catriona echoed, and Myrna nodded, smoothing some of Catriona’s hair back from their face.

“You’ve spent your whole life here in Rosinmoor. I want to give you the chance to see the world, see what’s beyond our home - give you a chance to see what you could possibly become.” Myrna swiped a thumb across Catriona’s damp cheek, smiling a little despite herself. “I want you to know that you have choices, and I want you to understand how much bigger life is than it is here at Castle Kintyre.”

“What...what about mom?”

“Your mother may be Baroness, but she sure as hell has no authority over me. If you tell me you want to go, you’re going, and if I have to fight tooth and nail to make it happen, I will.” Myrna let out a playful growl, prodding at Catriona’s sides with tickling fingers and smiling when a peal of laughter fell from their lips and they shoved her hands away. “You don’t have to decide now, but -”

Astoria shook their head, looking up at Myrna with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “No, I...I want to go. I want to go to Prakra, Firent, anywhere you go. I want to see it all for as long as you’ll let me. I just...don’t want to be here right now.”

A smile broke across Myrna’s lips, and carefully, she reached for her cane - not before bringing Catriona in for another tight embrace.

“Trust me, my dear, you’re welcome to follow me anywhere. You’re far more welcome company than some of my other traveling companions.” She rose, gently nudging Catriona toward her wardrobe. “Pack your bags, darling.”

Surprised, Catriona stood, brows furrowing as she looked at Myrna. “Where are we going?”

“I have a little place down in Rosafearn. A cottage, where Balfour and I used to stay when we wanted to get away from the castle. I’m going to go get Edrine and Sachairi, and we can spend a few nights there so you can have some space away from home. I’ll deal with your mother later.”

* * * * *

Once they’d settled in at the cottage, Catriona nearly stumbled into the bed Myrna made up for them, kissing their brow and telling them she’d be back soon with her cousin, her friend, and their things to spend the rest of the holiday away from the castle.

They didn’t know how much time it had been when the door cracked open, though by the time Myrna came back, the midmorning sun was peeking through the curtains just as the door cracked open and two familiar faces poked their heads inside. Catriona waved for them to come in, but didn’t move - not that Edrine seemed to mind, climbing into the bed beside them and cuddling up to their side.

“Are you okay?” She whispered, and Catriona shook their head slowly, letting out a shaky breath.

“Not really.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“...not really.” They murmured, closing their eyes as they felt Sachairi drop into bed with them as well - his head resting on Catriona’s stomach and his legs hanging off the side.

“That’s okay.” He said, finding their hand and giving it a squeeze. “We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Catriona nodded slowly, their other hand finding Edrine’s and squeezing them both tightly.

“Thank you.” They breathed, feeling themself sink into the bed as Myrna gently closed the bedroom door and plunged them all into relative quiet.

When the next morning came, they’d realize the exhilaration they felt at the sense of freedom for the first time in all their thirteen years, but for now…

For now they wanted to forget the world completely.

#astoria fenharrow #senga's a shitty parent part 464 #i write her to hate her lmao

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years ago

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Protea (Part 9)

Snapdragon closes her eyes, leans back, and inhales the vapors. Lilac and firelily are the dominant scents. There is something about them. Something familiar. The way the way the scents intermingle brings her to a place that is both close and distant. She runs the bar of soap over her skin and tries to pull that distant thing closer.

She doesn’t dwell much...doesn’t dwell at all on the blank spaces in her mind. But there is an itch within those spaces and the scents tickle them. She counts the freckles on her arms after cleaning them of dirt and grime. And this time they seem foregin. Foreign as though she isn’t sure if they are supposed to be there.

She shakes her head and reaches for the shampoo. Her hair could use a very good scrub. She wonders if Mai well ask the servants to help her with that. Her hair is such a tangled mess that she isn’t sure she will be able to work with it on her own. She dips her head under the water and basks in the warmth it radiates. She is so very cozy. She wishes that her factory had a hot spring in or near it. She likes hot springs very much, she decides.

She leans her body against the rocks and inhales the lilac. She can’t shake the feeling of familiarity. She pushes it to the back of her mind; of course it feels familiar, she has done this once before. She stares at the hand that rests upon the spring’s rocky deck. It is rough and calloused. It is familiar.

One of several serving girls slips back into the room, “Mai would like to know if you’re done with your bath yet.”

Snapdragon nods and holds out her arm for the towel. The girl hands it over and she pats herself dry. She scampers around for her robe...granted it isn’t actually hers. She tugs it on and fusses with the sash. After a few moments of watching her struggle, the serving girl offers her a hand. “Tight enough?” She asks. Snapdragon nods again. “Where is Mai?”

“Waiting for you in the spa.”

Her eyes light up, “do I get to use it too?”

The serving girl smiles, “unless you think that you can fix this mess on your own.” She ruffles Snapdragon’s hair.

She shakes her head, “I wasn’t even planin’ on tryin’ to fix that.”

The girl leads her to the spa. With each corner turned, Snapdragon finds herself more daunted, the palace is so huge. It would only take getting distracted and falling behind for her to get lost within its expansive halls. She wonders if the Fire Lord even knows how to navigate it.

“Here we are.”

“I finished my bath, Mai!” She declares proudly. A few of the serving girls cringe and she recalls that these folks don’t enjoy loud greetings. They don’t seem to enjoy loud things in general. She mumbles an apology as walks towards Mai. Mai who doesn’t seem particularly bothered by her overly enthusiastic outburst. “I keep forgettin’ about the palace rules.”

“They aren’t official rules.” Mai rolls her eyes, “you should here Zuko when he’s frustrated.” She gestures for Snapdragon to sit. “His father too. That whole family is pretty loud.”

“Lean your head back.” The serving girl instructs.

“Oh yeah.” Snapdragon replies, “I’ll do that. Can you use the same shampoo that you used last time? I liked that smell.”

“Which ones did we use the last time?”

Snapdragon looks at Mai who gives a little shrug. And then her eyes widen for a flicker. “Firelily and jasmine.”

“I dunno how you remembered that.” Snapdragon mumbles as the serving girl retreats to fetch the bottles.

“Uh...they used to be Azula’s favorites. You smelled like her…”

Snapdragon somehow gets the impression that this isn’t a good thing. “Well I can use firelily and…” she taps her chin. “And snapdragon! I am Snapdragon so I can smell like snapdragon!”

“That makes sense.” Mai agrees with a slight smile. “You think that you can handle being a lone for a bit, I’m going to go find Zuko and let him know that you’ll be spending the night here.”

Her tummy flutters once at the notion of being alone with only the servants and twice at the reminder that she will be staying here at the palace with several more hours of time to make both she and Mai look foolish. At least now she won’t be dirty and grubby when she does it.

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

Snapdragon shakes her head. The woman running a comb through her hair sighs and gives her another reminder to keep her head still. Snapdragon mumbles another apology. “It’s fine Mai, I can be alone for a bit.”

She regrets saying so as soon as Mai leaves the room. There may not be any uppity nobles about this time around, but even the serving girls seem to have more class and poise than she. Everyone is so elegant, they can bury her under as many fine silks and scents as they please but she doesn’t think that they will ever truly be able to drive out the scents of Capital City’s lower ring smog. “What is this?” The girl with the brush plucks a cluster of pine needles from her hair. But Agni, are they giving it their best shot.

“That must be from when I were trying to reach the bird’s nest. I were gonna take it down if there were no eggs in it.” Snapdragon explains. “I climbed up all the way to near the top of the tree…”

“The sap is practically gluing your hair together.”

That doesn’t exactly sound like an easy fix.

The serving girl sighs. “I hope that you’re comfy. This is going to take a while and if I can’t wash the sap out then I will have to give you another haircut.”

Snapdragon swallows. She wishes that she weren’t such a burden, if only she had nice, silky hair like Mai’s.

“Ami, you’re making her uncomfortable.” Snapdragon recognizes this voice. It is the serving girl she had met first. Yora, if she recalls correctly.

“She could use some discomfort if you ask me.” Ami mutters. “Look at this.” She holds up a clump of her hair. The strands are held together by a decent glob of pine sap.

Yora chuckles. “I’ll work with this, you just shampoo her hair.” She turns her attention to Snapdragon. “And you just relax, trust me you’ll feel much better after this.”

Snapdragon can believe that, she already feels better, more respectable now that she smells like firelily. Yora is a lot more careful than Ami, she still snags Snapdragon’s locks but she doesn’t yank at them. She closes her eyes, she must admit that it is relaxing to have the shampoos massaged into her hair.

Like the spring water, the steams that they pour over her head are kindly hot. She watches tendrils of steam twist and curl towards the ceiling. She thinks that she can nearly see the scents on them; she imagines that the firelily would take on a vivid orange and that the snapdragon would be a flashy red smoke.

“Cherries?” Offers a new serving girl.

With a grin, Snapdragon pops one into her mouth. She may not be able to get used to this, but she certainly enjoys it. She takes a second cherry and a third. And then she loses track of how many cherries she has eaten.

“We’re almost done.” Yora says. “I’m going to have to give you a bit of a haircut though. I can’t seem to get this one clump of sap out.”

“Okay.” Snapdragon agrees. She takes another cherry from the bowl and bites down. “Ow!” Momentarily forgetting her about her surroundings, she spits the cherry pit out. She hears it ping against one of the decorative vases.

Ami pinches the bridge of her nose, “someone pick that up.”

Snapdragon rubs the side of her mouth. She wishes that she hadn’t bitten down so hard. She supposes it could have been worse; she could have swallowed it and choked… The serving girl scrubbing the callouses off of her feet pauses.

The sense of deja vu comes over her again but with more potency. A headpoudning potency. To further spike Ami’s irritation, she shifts uncomfortably in the chair. This sense of familiarity itches at the back of her mind. Whatever it is, it is just out of reach. Just out of reach in just the same way that recollections of her time in the jungle are.

“Don’t let Ami bother you.” Yora leans in and whispers. “She’s a stern old flutterbat.”

Snapdragon allows the comment to wash away her unease. She gives a little laugh.

“I thought that it was funny.” Yora continues. “It would have been even funnier if you spit it out at one of those guards. They’re no fun.”

Snapdragon laughs again.

Ami inhales through her nose, “please. Sit still.”

“Sorry.” She mutters again.

She leaves the spa feeling quite refreshed, her head feels so much lighter now that it isn’t loaded with sap, pine needles, and twigs. She feels lighter in general. And the aroma of firelily and snapdragon leaves her with the sensation that she could levitate, could drift away on a cloud of their perfume.

She holds her sleeve to her nose. She expects it to smell like the shampoo but she finds that it has a scent of its own; firelily and jasmine with a touch of smoke. Her head begins to ache again.

.oOo.

“What’s wrong, you’re not acting like yourself tonight?” Mai frowns.

She doesn’t feel much like herself tonight.

“You’re all quiet again. Are you still anxious about being surrounded by nobles?”

That must be it. She is still nervous. She nods, “a little.” Though she isn’t sure that that truly is what is bothering her. She can’t think of anything else that it could be though.

“I’m surprised that you aren’t shaking with joy. You were really excited for another palace banquet.”

And she was. She thinks that she still is. Though, at the same time, she doesn’t have much of an appetite at the moment. Mostly she feels queasy? Foggy? Distant? She isn’t exactly sure what she is feeling. Other than unwell. “I feel…”

“You look pale.” Mai notes.

Snapdragon nods. “I feel sick.” That doesn’t quite fit either but it is the closest thing that she can think of.

“Do you want to skip dinner and go see the palace physician.” The Firelord offers from the head of the table. “They’re really good, I promise.”

She shakes her head, “I want food first. I came here for the food.”

Mai chuckles, “that sounds more like you.”

Snapdragon smiles. Maybe she’ll feel better after a gourmet meal. Maybe she’ll feel more like Snapdragon if she does things that make Snapdragon happy.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Mai #Maizula #Fanfiction

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ofwolvesandbutterflies · 4 years ago

Text

may i?

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Reader ft. Chenle

Genre: fluff

Tags: docent!reader, chaperone!taeyong

Warnings: *unedited*

day 28 of 30 days with NCT

Synopsis: in which you’ve found yourself in the middle of an unlikely situation with the most handsome elementary school chaperone you’ve ever seen.

// I’m not here to give you complications... // (x)

[08:13]

Small children filed into the lobby of the art museum one by one. An inaudible groan filled your cheeks as you did a headcount of all the 7-8 year old children and adults in this group. This was going to be a long day… A long day filled with careless primary schoolers, bored adults, and hours of droning through the same old tour you had been reciting for the past few months. Never once in your life had you ever thought you’d find yourself in the old, dusty art museum your grandparents worked at for so long.

But here you were, short on money during your last years of undergrad, smiling through clenched teeth as the exhausted teacher before you collected the tour bracelets and chaperone stickers. This time, the annoyed sigh fought its way past your lips as yet another cheeky little boy reached out to touch the statue of the Foo dog on the left side of the doorway, the one with a missing tooth.

“Excuse me! Hey! You!” you called towards the younger boy who was at the moment mere millimetres away from touching the statue’s lackluster polish. The younger boy’s hand stopped in mid air as he threw a guilty glance over to see if you had been talking to him. You continued, oblivious to the fact more than half of the students were looked at him. “I know he’s pretty but you can’t touch art, kiddo.” The teacher you had been talking to along with the rest of the class turned to see who you were about to scold. He withdrew his hand, frowning at you but following your directions regardless.

“Chenle!” A smooth, only moderately stressed voice pounced at the child before you even had the chance to dismiss him. Ahh, you thought to yourself. So, that’s the little imp’s name. The younger boy - or - Chenle’s eyes widened in what you could only describe as stress as a rose haired male who looked much too young to be his father sped towards him.

You had witnessed many types of chaperones in your time working at the museum, all types most usually mid thirties to middle aged and none anywhere near as stylish as this one.

This chaperone was dressed quite plainly, in just a pristine, pressed white t-shirt tucked into a pair of stylish black slacks cinched with a - goodness, was that a Gucci belt? Blinking the surprise out of your eyes, you studied the rest of him. A couple of thin silver bracelets wound their way around his thin wrists and glinted in the sunlight filtering through the windows, matching the distress dancing in his eyes as he glanced between the child in his care and you. He was quite slim, like a dancer. And really quite handsome. His lips were pulled into a disapproving pout, somehow complimenting the angularity of the rest of his features. Dark eyes darted around carefully as he squatted next to the boy. “Come on, bud. We've been over this at other places, too. You can’t touch the exhibits!”

Regardless of the fact this was more responsibility you had ever seen a chaperone take for their child, you almost felt… guilty. It had only been the fourth time in the past week you had caught another grubby hand trying to touch old BuBu (the name you had so affectionately given the single toothed lion), and yet you couldn’t help but feel bad for the blazing cheeked child who stood there speechless, getting scolded quietly around his friends by his chaperone.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you clapped a couple times, loud and clear. Both Chenle and the chaperone stopped to look at you. “Alright, children. May I have your attention, please?” Soon, all sounds of children chatter had died down and you smoothed a hand over the invisible creases on your work uniform. “Thank you. My name is Ms. Y/N, and I will be helping you out today.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you launched into the ground rules of the museum, tossing the occasional glance over to where Chenle snuck back towards his group of friends. The younger boy shot you a grateful smile.

“Now then,” you clasped your hands together, fixating the best flight attendant/museum docent smile on your face. “Are we ready?” The group nodded and so the tour began.

Despite the fact Chenle still tried to touch a couple more various pieces of art around the historic building and his awkwardly cute chaperone still insisted on shooting him the least intimidating scowl of disapproval you had ever seen, the class tour went pretty well. You brought the children to the interactive area, instructing them to go around to the different stations and try the art methods you had described during the tour with the materials the other volunteers provided.

The students fanned out to the different corners of the room, the trained smile dropped from your face and you leaned heavily against the wall.

“Uhm… pardon me, Miss?” the smooth, familiar voice of a hesitant male sounded only a mere centimetres away from you, sending an abrupt flinch through your body. You turned on your heels to see the handsome chaperone from earlier standing a little off to the side, looking just as sheepish as Chenle had when he got caught earlier this morning.

You slid the polite smile back onto your lips and straightened yourself, ignoring the racing of your heart at just how much more handsome this man was up close. “Oh! Hey there!” the volume of your voice sent a painful cringe through your body. Nevertheless, you continued, brushing off any nonexistent specks of dust dotting your uniform. “May I help you?”

“O-oh! Uhmm, no! No, no thank you!” he chuckled nervously, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. The fake smile on your face quickly morphed into a genuine one as you watched him stutter. Just like they had before, his eyes traveled quickly from one place to another, refusing to meet your curious gaze. You raised an eyebrow. The pink haired male bit his lip in an effort to collect his thoughts. Finally, he stuck a hand out towards you, offering a lopsided smile. “Uh, sorry. I- my name is Lee Taeyong, I’m Chenle’s older brother-” he paused to tilt his head to over where his younger brother sat, painting carefully with the other children. “-and I just wanted to apologize on my little brother’s behalf.”

You took his outstretched hand with a light giggle, not failing to notice the way Taeyong’s eyes curved into happy crescents at the sound of your laugh. “Nice to meet you, Taeyong. But hey! No worries, we all learn in different ways and Chenle seems like a great kid.”

“I don’t know about ‘great’ kid…” he scoffed playfully, nearly forgetting to let go of your hand. “But thank you for being so understanding. Are- are you sure it’s okay, though? I mean, Lele almost touched a couple of - what did you say they were? - Ming Dynasty vases? Not to mention that gold looking Foo dog at the entrance… How were you not strangling him?”

The two of you laughed and you were almost surprised at how easier it was to converse with the male.

“I’m serious, Taeyong, it’s fine,” you smiled, a pink heat dusting both of your cheeks. “He didn’t touch them and you were very on top of making sure he knew what he was doing was wrong. You’re all good, don’t worry.”

“Still,” the young man mumbled, digging the tip of his custom vans into the carpet beneath you. A strange fluttery feeling settling in your stomach when Taeyong glanced at you shyly through his thick lashes. “I feel like… I should do something to make it up to you after how difficult he was today.”

Something about this whole situation reminded you strangely of high school and the first time you had asked your crush out. Taeyong somehow radiated the giddiness of a teenage boy as he stuck his hands in his pockets, cocking his head towards you. “May I - I dunno - take you out for coffee sometime or something?”

You hid the giddy smile slowly spreading across your cheeks behind a hand and you nodded. Perhaps today wouldn’t be as boring as you had originally thought.

a/n: i don’t know... i think my original thought process was how ridiculous it would be for a chaperone of a bunch of 8 year olds to ask out a cute docent... i have no idea XD

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milomeepit · 5 years ago

Text

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter Five

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be added soon!)

Word Count: 2927

Chapter Warnings: Fake names, panic, runaway kid, brief mention of parent neglect, foster care mention

Afternoons began to settle into a comfortable routine. Peter would climb the stairs to the cafe, pick out a book, curl up on a couch on the edge of the dining area, and wait, picking at the frayed hems of his jeans. Patton would eventually come over, mugs of cocoa and a plate of cookies in hand, and would start to read, leaving the afternoon’s lazy trickle of customers to Virgil.

This afternoon, however, as the sun began to dip lower, and closing time approached, Patton paused before turning the page. “Hey, Peter, sweetie, can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?” Peter looked up at Patton, his eyes wide and round and trusting, and gods, they broke his heart a little.

Patton gazed down at him, brushing straggly hair back from his face. “Honey, do you have somewhere to sleep tonight?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Peter replied, a little too quickly for Patton to be convinced.

“Somewhere safe and warm? Inside? With your parents?” Patton pressed on.

Peter pulled away from him, nodding quickly. “Y-yeah! With my mom and dad, they have a- they have a house and stuff!” He insisted.

Patton studied him, his arms wrapped around himself, the hunched shoulders. Those wide eyes, now full of doubt and fear. His chest squeezed painfully as Peter shuffled away, putting a small amount of distance between them. Breathe. Calm down. You’re going to spook him even more, he reminded himself.

“Are you sure about that?” Patton asked softly. “It’s okay if the answer is no, I just want to help you.”

“I... I...” Peter stammered, his hands balling up into fists. His shoulders trembled as he curled in on himself tighter.

Patton reached out towards him, offering a comforting smile. “Peter, are you oka-”

“Don’t!” Peter ducked away from him with a yelp, pushing himself to his feet and sprinting towards the stairs, his tattered sneakers screeching against the smooth wooden floor. In the blink of an eye, he had vanished down the stairwell, the front door slamming shut behind him.

Virgil looked up from the register at the sudden commotion, and Patton saw him mouthing curses as he vaulted over the counter, ripping off his apron and throwing it towards Patton. “I’ll be right back!” He yelled over his shoulder, and then he was gone, too.

Patton leaped up and snatched the apron out of the air, clutching it close to his chest, staring after them as he blinked back the tears pricking at his eyes. He really, really hoped he hadn’t just ruined everything.

Meanwhile, Virgil weaved through groups of people out on the street, searching the crowds for Peter’s messy hair and red jacket. Come on, kid. You can’t have got that far. He turned down one street, then another, his gaze raking over passing people. Past the hotel, along the bike path, around the library.

Damn it.

“Excuse me, have you seen a little boy? About this tall, red jacket, beat-up backpack?”

Nope.

“Hey, have you seen a kid come through here? Kind of looks like Pig-Pen from the Peanuts?”

No luck.

“Hi, sorry to bother you, I’m looking for a boy? Messy hair, grubby face, big green eyes?”

Nothing.

Virgil flopped down onto a park bench, out of breath. His phone buzzed insistently, and he pulled it out of his pocket to see a message from Patton.

Pat <3 [5:23pm]: Heya <333 Any luck? Cutie Pie [5:23pm]: nothing yet. still looking tho Pat <3 [5:24pm]: Okay. Stay safe. I love you! Cutie Pie [5:24pm]: will do xo

Virgil sucked in a deep breath, sticking his phone back in his pocket and rubbing his temples. He had to think. Where would a scared kid go, if they didn’t have somewhere safe to go? Where would a kid hide?

He should be able to figure this out, damn it! He was always the one who ran and hid- ducking under tables, slipping into closets, climbing up trees, squeezing between cars. He was an expert at hiding spots when he was a kid.

Then again, it had always been his dad or Patton who excelled at the finding part. Time after time, Virgil would sit there, waiting for them to rescue him, curled into a ball, his breathing shallow as panic clawed at his chest, squeezing his throat tight until he couldn’t breathe-

Breathe in for four seconds. Hold it for seven seconds. Breathe out for eight seconds. Keep it together.

“If I was a kid, all alone, out in the cold, with the sun setting, where would I hide?” He asked himself aloud.

Alone? Probably somewhere he could keep an eye on who came and went.

Cold? Somewhere protected from snow and wind and rain.

Virgil started walking again, chewing on his bottom lip as he made his way along the path. Streetlamps cast a sickly yellow glow over the park, the shadows dancing as the trees waved in the wind. He had to be missing something. He just had to think.

The path curved around to the left and Virgil followed it. His thoughts felt heavy and thick, like smoke clogging up his brain. Where else could the kid even be?

A metallic creak nearby pulled him from his thoughts. He stepped off the path, ducking through a grove of trees and following the noise. It was darker over here, away from the lights illuminating the walkway, and it took a few seconds for his to adjust.

The old playground. Virgil remembered coming here when he was younger. Perched at the top with Patton, their legs swinging over the edge as they watched people pass by. It didn't get much use nowadays- the city council had built a shiny new playground with colourful metal frames and fancy soft fall rubber flooring.

What was wrong with regular old wood chips? He shook his head. People were so concerned with their kids getting so much as a scratch these days. What was childhood, if not the ultimate opportunity for skinned knees and bumps on the head?

The creak pierced through the air again as the ancient swingset moved in the wind. He moved over to it, examining the tarnished metal links. Somewhere along one of these chains, he'd scratched his and Patton's initials. They were littered all over this playground, really. Scratched onto plastic, carved into wooden beams.

Virgil shook his head. Now isn't the time for a trip down memory lane, he scolded himself. You can bring Patton down here and have a picnic sometime, but you have a mission rig-

A faint sound made his head snap up towards the play equipment. It almost sounded like... a sniffle?

He slowly approached the old playground, following the sound. Please don't be a raccoon, please don't be a raccoon, he begged silently as he bobbed down and peered into the plastic tunnel.

"Go away!" Virgil jerked back, startled by the sudden shriek. "Leave me alone!"

Well, that answered that question.

He settled down onto the ground, a foot or so back from the opening of the tunnel. "Pete, it's me," He said softly.

There was a heavy silence for a few seconds, followed by rustling, and Peter poked his head out of the shadows, eyeing Virgil suspiciously. "... Hi."

"Hey, kid," Virgil replied casually, leaning back on his hands. "Cozy in there?"

Peter shrugged. "I guess. I have a blanket."

"Niiiice. Doesn't sound as luxurious as Patton's reading nook, though."

"Nah. That's, like... a blanket palace."

Virgil chuckled at the dreamy look in Peter's eyes. "It sure is."

Peter flashed him a small, hesitant smile. "I really like your cafe. It's really, really nice."

"Thanks. We've tried really hard to make it nice, so I'm really glad to hear." He shifted, crossing his legs and leaning on his knees. "Mind if I ask why you ditched us in such a hurry?"

Peter shrank back, suddenly looking... almost frightened? Virgil's heart panged at the boy's crossed arms and hunched stance.

"Look, I promise I'm not mad, and you're not in trouble or anything. Me and Patton are just..." Virgil paused, searching for the right word. "... We're worried about you, kid. We wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why." Peter's voice was flat.

"Because... because we care about you? You're a good kid? Why wouldn't we?" Virgil asked, baffled by the complete lack of emotion in the usually animated child.

"... Really?" Peter blinked, his eyebrows drawn together as he studied Virgil.

"Y... yeah," Virgil affirmed softly.

"Are all the adults around here as nice as you guys?" He shuffled a little closer to the opening of the pipe.

Well, that was telling. "I mean, to be honest? Not all of 'em. But I know some good people." He paused, biting his lip before continuing. "Are your folks not... so nice?"

"They're... okay. They don't really talk to me much."

"I see." Virgil did not, in fact, see.

Peter ducked his head, curling back in on himself. “Sorry. I don’t... it’s okay, I promise.”

Virgil’s chest tightened at Peter’s hunched shoulders. “You know, kid... it’s okay for things to be, you know... not okay.” He reached out, gently touching his arm.

Peter looked up, his wide eyes shining in the darkness. “I...” He trailed off, staring at Virgil.

“Look, it’s pretty cold and nasty out here, and I personally wanna head back to meet up with my husband and go home and have dinner and watch movies.” Virgil smiled. “And if you wanna tag along, you’re totally welcome to, kid.”

Peter moved forwards again, emerging from the tube. He threw himself at Virgil, wrapping his arms around his chest, knocking the slim man onto his back. Virgil let out a grunt as he caught the child, squeezing him a little. “I got you, bud. I got you.”

He let go after a moment, and Virgil released him. The two of them clambered to their feet, exchanged a nod, and then began walking back in the direction of the cafe.

Virgil didn’t pull away when Peter’s small hand took hold of his, tightly gripping onto him like a lifeline. They made their way along the path, hands swinging gently between them. The silence was somewhere between comfortable and suffocating, and Virgil cursed his inability to read social situations. He wasn’t sure what to do, or what to say, but this- the protective urge boiling in his blood, the warmth of Peter’s hand in his- it felt right.

He cleared his throat, glancing up towards the stars. “Hey, do you know any of the constellations, kid?”

Peter looked up at him curiously. “No? That’s, like... stars and stuff, right? And, like... star signs and junk?”

“Yeah, stuff like that. What’s yours?”

“Um... my birthday is in June. June 4th.”

Virgil clicked his tongue as he thought. “I’m pretty sure that’s, like... right in the middle of Gemini. Neat.” He squeezed Peter’s hand gently. “Mine’s Sagittarius- birthday’s in late December.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “There was a girl in my classes whose birthday is the 28th. She said it sucked, because she only got one set of presents.”

Virgil chuckled. “It’s not so bad. Patton always makes a cake, and we hang out and eat snacks, and that’s more than enough for me.”

Peter nodded, then looked back up towards the sky. “... What other constellations are there up there?” He asked.

Virgil followed his gaze, searching the stars for a shape he recognized. “Uh... oh, right there. Dorado. See it? It’s like a dolphin.” He raised their joined hands to point up at the cluster of stars.

Peter squinted at the sky, then brightened. “Oh, yeah! I can see the tail and body and everything!” He exclaimed.

Virgil grinned and ruffled his hair. “Hell yeah. Great job, Pete!”

The boy hesitated at the praise, his steps faltering to a halt. “Um...” He pulled his hand free, rubbing his free arm nervously.

“What’s up, kid?” Virgil bobbed down to him, raising an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

“Um, well, the thing is...” He hesitated, closing his eyes before spitting out in a rush, “My name isn’t actually Peter, I panicked, I’m sorry, my name’s Roman, I’m sorry for lying-!”

“Whoa, whoa!” Virgil held up his hands, eyes wide. “Breathe, princey! Calm down time.” He raised his hand, wanting to draw him into a hug, but knowing all too well how distressing contact could be when one didn’t feel up to it. Neither of them moved for a tense few seconds, and he cleared his throat, letting his hand drop to his side again. “Roman, huh? That’s a pretty cool name. It suits you.”

Roman(?) slowly opened his eyes, peeking up at Virgil from behind his scraggly fringe. “... You’re not mad?” He asked, his voice soft and hesitant in a way that broke Virgil’s heart all over again.

“I promise. Little surprised, maybe, but...” Virgil shook his head. “Not mad. People can be scary. I understand, bud.” He chuckled. “I remember when I was a kid, my teacher thought my name was Oliver for, like, three weeks, because I was too nervous to correct her.”

Roman stared at Virgil, then slowly nodded. “...Okay. Okay.” He reached out, taking Virgil’s hand again.

Virgil gently squeezed his hand as he got back to his feet. “Let’s head home, huh?”

Roman nodded again. “Yeah,” He murmured, a small, shy smile creeping onto his face.

Virgil liked this kid’s smile.

It didn’t take long for them to get back to the cafe. Virgil held open the door for Roman as he scuffed his tattered sneakers clean on the mat, then followed him up the stairs. Roman paused at the top, peering around the banister anxiously.

Virgil followed his gaze to see Patton wiping down an already-clean table, a vacant, worried look on his face as he reset the centerpiece and menus. A quick glance around the cafe confirmed his suspicion that Patton had been stress-cleaning. Books were shuffled around on the shelves, one set of shelves organized by colour, another by height, a third by genre.

“Hey, hon,” He called out, staying with Roman, resting his hand gently on the boy’s shoulder.

Patton jerked at the sound of his voice, whirling around and lighting up as he spotted them. “You’re back!” He flung himself towards Roman, wrapping him up in a tight hug. “Oh, goodness, I was so worried, I thought you’d get hurt, or lost, or-or... I don’t even know! I’m so glad you’re safe, Peter!” He rambled.

Roman squirmed back in his arms, and Patton immediately released him. “Um, R-Roman,” He stammered, clearly a bit overwhelmed by Patton’s response to seeing him.

Patton paused for a beat, blinked, then nodded, the sunshine-bright smile returning to his face. “I’m so happy to see you, Ro- is it okay if I call you Ro? Excellent name, by the way! Sounds like a Prince Charming- ooh, or a brave knight! Don’t you think, Virgil?” As he spoke, he practically dragged Roman and Virgil over to one of the couches, settling them down and throwing a blanket over their legs.

Virgil laughed, catching Patton’s nervous hands as he smoothed out wrinkles in the blanket. “Pat, hon, breathe. It’s okay. I’m fine, Roman’s safe. Come here.” He gently tugged Patton to sit down next to him, putting an arm around his waist and kissing his cheek. “Everybody’s alright.”

Patton blushed, curling up and resting his head on Virgil’s shoulder. “Right, right. Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away,” He giggled awkwardly.

Roman cleared his throat, and Virgil turned his head to look at him. His small hands were clutching fistfuls of the blanket as he spoke, his voice a little shaky. “So... so what happens now? You guys aren’t going to make me go back home, are you?”

Virgil chewed on the inside of his cheek. Of course they didn’t want to send Roman back home if it wasn’t a healthy environment, but what other options did they have? Call the police? Was there a hotline for homeless children? He wrinkled his nose, reflecting on his own experience with the foster care system. That definitely didn’t appeal, either, but there was only so much they could do. It wasn’t like they could just keep him like a stray cat.

“Of course not! You can stay with us as long as you like!” Patton exclaimed. “We’ve got a spare bedroom, and I’m sure we can find some clothes that’ll fit you. That way you’ll have somewhere warm and cozy and nice to stay while we figure things out!”

... Or, they could take in the random runaway child. A small, selfish part of Virgil chimed in agreement with Patton. Roman was a good kid, from what they’d seen. Besides, it wasn’t like they were kidnapping him. Just giving him somewhere to sleep for now; a stable and positive environment during this whole debacle. It couldn’t hurt, riiight?

Roman’s eyes widened. “Rea-really? I can just... stay with you guys?” And with the soft hope shining on his face, there went Virgil’s strength of will for the night.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can’t see a problem with him staying here for now, at least.” Virgil reached over and tousled Roman’s hair. “How about we get home, get some sleep, and then we can look into what to do in the morning?”

“Sounds like a plan!” Patton chirped.

Roman cuddled up to Virgil, wrapping his arms around him and clinging tightly. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” He exclaimed, a bright, crooked-toothed smile lighting up his face.

#TS-Storytime 2019 Submission #milo writes #ditr #gemstone tales #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides

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let-love-run-red · 5 years ago

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"Christar, Jon, I'd like you to accompany me." Vaehra said as she walked towards the two men. She'd changed from the red nightclothes into a nicer pair of trousers and a white tunic, her black and red cloak back in place on her shoulders. She'd draped a type of chain over her shoulders. It was thin with silver links, and created a pattern across the back of her cloak. Christar had a matching one with black links that showed wonderfully within the fur of his white cloak.

Jon felt very under-dressed in his simple clothes and his straight black cloak. Although, looking at the chains, he assumed they were a show of status. An easy way for any Valyrian passersby to recognize the Queen and the head of her queensguard at a glance, as there was no other obvious way to tell them apart from another citizen of the city.

The group of three walked towards the doors of the keep, another pair of guards standing at the door. Rather than get in an argument this time, Vaehra produced the scroll Jaerla had given them that documented the meeting request from Bran. The guards took one look at the scroll before stepping aside to allow the three into the castle.

Christar stood just to the right of Vaehra, half a step behind her. Jon walked behind the two, trying to stay in step with them but failing horribly. They must have walked together like this for years in order for it to become second nature.

"Any idea what Bran could want?" Christar asked Vaehra. Vaehra shrugged, the chain on her back jingling lightly at the movement.

"I can't be sure, but I assume it has something to do with our little excursion in the North." Vaehra said. Jon could understand why Sansa was unhappy. Vaehra had humiliated her in front of her guards and proven herself to be more clever than Sansa. And taken what was likely her first prisoner as Queen of the North.

"I hardly feel bad about that. She killed Daeragon, She deserved much worse than what we gave her." Christar said, his voice dropped low. Jon could see the scales on the side of his neck stand on edge.

Vaehra hummed as she approached the council door. She paused, composing herself and knocking lightly on the door. She was much more diplomatic when the life of the head of her queensguard was not hanging in the balance. The door opened to reveal Sir Brienne standing behind it, the rest of the council members seated at the table behind her. There were two empty seats at the table, one for Brienne, and the other, Jon assumed, for Vaehra.

"Vaehra, I see you got my message." Bran said from his seat. Vaehra stepped into the room, her steps soft compared to the mighty thumps from Christar's boots as he walked. Vaehra approached the seat, gesturing towards it. She was seated next to Ser Bronn, who glanced at her approvingly as she daintily pulled the chair out and settled herself in it, the chains across her cloak clinking lightly against the chair. Christar stood watchfully behind her, despite Bran offering him another chair. Jon stood beside Christar, trying to mimic his authoritative pose.

Brienne sat across from Vaehra as Bronn turned his body to face Vaehra and Bran. Tyrion cleared his throat before speaking up.

"Queen Vaehra," He addressed her. Vaehra turned her attention to Tyrion, long brown hair brushing over her shoulders. Christar turned to face Tyrion as well, green eyes glinting in the candlelight.

"I don't believe I've properly welcomed you to Westeros since your arrival two weeks ago. Our time has been so rushed." Tyrion said. He stood and approached Vaehra, offering him her hand. She shook it firmly, and Tyrion's eyes widened at her strength. He had obviously not expected that from her, but the woman wrangled three full grown dragons every day. She had to be strong.

"Thank you Lord Tyrion, however I hardly believe that is what implored Brandon to ask after me." Vaehra said, pulling her attention away from Tyrion to look at Bronn who had been trying to peek down her tunic since she'd sat down.

"You're much more pleasant when you're not in here screaming in the face of my King like a scorned whore. Perhaps we ought to get you fucked out more often" Bronn said. Brienne raised her eyebrows in shock as Tyrion stared open mouthed. Even Bran seemed shocked at his outburst. Ser Davos opened his mouth to bite back when Vaehra held up a single gloved hand. Jon noticed Christar settle back into a more relaxed position and realized he'd been poised to pounce on Bronn for his words.

"Those are bold words Ser Bronn." Vaehra said calmly. Bronn didn't seem to know how to react to her serenity.

"You're much more pleasant with a blade against your throat, yet I haven't resorted to that." Vaehra said before giving him a pointed look and flicking her fingers towards Christar. He unsheathed a large curved blade from under his cloak.

"Yet." Vaehra finished. Bronn sat back in his seat, watching Christar closely as Vaehra turned her attention to Bran.

"Now, can we please address what this is really about." Vaehra said. Bran nodded with a sly smile, unfurling a raven scroll, clearing his throat and reading aloud.

"Brandon, I have written this scroll to discuss with you the occurrences at my Kingdom, your home, yesterday. Vaehra Rahthone arrived in Winterfell with two large dragons, threatening my people with fire if they did not surrender immediately. She then turned her blade to me and threatened my life. Our brother, Jon, did nothing to defend his family or rightful kingdom. Vaehra Rahthone, Jon Snow, and Christar Wrintaris have all been declared enemies of the Northern crown, and are to be returned to my Kingdom at once. If you refuse my request, I will have no choice but to declare the Southern crown an enemy of the North as well.

- Queen Sansa of house Stark, First of Her Name, Queen in the North, the Lady Wolf, the Survivor, Savior of the North, Heroine of Winterfell, The Bastard's Widow, The Defier of Dragons, the Un-kneeling, the Cunning Bird"

Jon was taken aback at the bold words of his sister. Vaehra, on the other hand, didn't seem fazed in the slightest. She remained calm, hands folded delicately in her lap. She raised her chin to Bran.

"Do you believe her words, Brandon?" She asked. Bran rolled the scroll once more, handing it off to Podrick. Bran cleared his throat, looking around to his council.

"I believe the truth. I saw what happened Vaehra, your arrival, the fate of Daeragon, your defense of yourself. What you did was justified, and nobody was killed." Bran said. The corner of Vaehra's mouth twitched upwards and Jon noticed the scales on Christar's neck stand on end. The others noticed the scales as well, and stared quite obviously. Christar shook his hair out, causing the chains to rub against the scales on his neck and make a rattling sound.

"I know Sansa. She was humiliated by you in front of her men. She is still trying to earn the trust of the North, and will see this as a blow to her standing." Bran said. Vaehra said nothing, prompting him to continue.

"She thinks the only way she can regain their respect is by punishing those who spit on the North, which she perceives you have." Bran said. Christar mumbled something about the spit freezing before it left your mouth and Jon had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"Well. I will not willingly place myself and the Lord Commander of my Queensguard in the grubby hands of a petulant child. I refrained from causing any damage to her person, and the only injuries caused were out of self defense. I will not be returning to the North unless I decree it is necessary." Vaehra said, making a move to stand from her seat.

"Vaehra, that's not what I was asking." Bran said. Vaehra turned her attention back to him.

"I was asking you, to consider your next plan of action. Sansa will not stop at simply asking nicely. She will send an army. I respect your leadership Vaehra, but the people of Kings Landing cannot stand another siege." Bran said. Vaehra sighed.

"You're right Brandon. They can't stand another siege. I will lead Sansa Stark's forces away from the Southern Kingdoms. We will be temporarily returning to Valyria. You are welcome to inform her of our whereabouts." Vaehra said. Jon immediately felt a lump in his throat. He didn't want them to go, but he didn't know if he could leave his homeland either.

Vaehra stood from her seat, brushing off her tunic and gesturing for Christar and Jon to follow her. Christar adjusted his cloak, the chains jingling against his scales once again. Jon caught Brienne watching him closely with a soft smile as Christar exited the room. Jon felt a surge of jealousy and was momentarily overwhelmed with the urge to whirl Christar around and press his lips against Christar's own, just to show Brienne that he wasn't for her. Then shook the thought from his mind, Christar was a man, and he wasn't for Jon either. No matter how badly Jon thought he loved him. Looking up through the ruined corridor, he spotted three dragons perched atop the walls. Dragons of gold, blue, and white scales, waiting for their riders to return home.

***

"Get those pots lashed!" Vaehra called from Vilors back as the dragon dropped three large pots amongst the pile of cooking supplies. Jon was curious how they were going to carry everything back with them. The dragons were large, but not large enough to be able to fly long distances with everything weighing them down.

"Where did Baesegon get off to?" Christar muttered under his breath before stalking off into the snowy woods, his white cloak erasing any trace he was ever there. Jon was about to follow him, when Vaehra landed on the ground next to him with a thump.

"Ah Jon, could you help me get the poles for the tent lashed together in a bundle?" She said. Jon looked at her quizzically. They hadn't used any tents, just slept with the dragons. Vaehra seemed to be able to read his mind, or recognize the confusion on his face.

"The dragons are good to sleep with in cold weather, but when we stop to camp in the great sand sea, they are much too warm. We use the tents then." She explained, kneeling next to the pile of supplies and picking a few long stiff poles from the pile and lashing them together with twine. Jon knelt next to her, helping her prepare a few bundles.

They had only been at it for a few moments when they heard a thunderous crashing noise. Jon looked to see Christar emerging from the forest, with a large brown dragon following behind him. The dragon was taller than Vilor, and one wing could stretch from Drogon's nose to his tail tip. The dragon raised it's head, letting out a deep bellow and shaking snow from its horns. Jon felt the ground shake as this dragon walked and watched as it's tail splintered trees at the base.

"There he is!" Vaehra called, standing from where she'd knelt and jogging towards the large dragon. She held her arms open wide, and the dragon lowered his head to press his snout against Vaehra's chest. Her arms barely reached from one side of his nose to the other, and when the dragon opened it's mouth in a happy warble Jon noticed that every one of his teeth were as long as Vaehra's sternum was tall. Vaehra didn't seem phased by this however, and just rubbed the dragons face before walking towards the pile.

Jon noticed that this dragon was wearing a sort of complex harness, with many loops and hooks built into it. It was similar, he realized, to something you would put on a pack donkey for a long trip. This was their pack dragon. He now understood how the Valyrians were able to carry all their supplies.

"My biggest strongest boy." He heard Valyria talking to the large dragon the way a child would talk to a dog they were fond of. He felt the sudden pang of missing Ghost. He wished he'd had a chance to bring the wolf along with him, but he had no idea how he would've brought him with.

"My Queen," Jon heard Christar say. He looked to see Vaehra pull away from Baesegon, looking to the forest to see a dirty direwolf emerge from between the trees, limping slightly and covered in dirt from nose to tail. Jon felt his heart swell as he ran towards the wolf.

"Ghost!" He called. Ghost limped quickly towards him, his tail wagging with joy. Jon dropped to his knees and ruffled Ghost's dirty fur as Ghost licked Jon's face excitedly.

"Good boy, good boy Ghost. How did you get here?" Jon asked as Ghost panted in his face. He heard Vaehra chuckle behind him as she approached.

"Well I'll be." She said, kneeling a respectful distance away and offering her hand. Ghost flicked his ears back, licking his muzzle anxiously and wagging his tail low against his back legs. Vaehra remained still, waiting for Ghost to approach her. Ghost took a tentative step towards her, sniffing her outstretched hand curiously. Vaehra reached slowly into the pocket of her trousers, offering Ghost a bit of elk jerky. He took it gently, licking his lips after he'd swallowed it whole.

"I've only seen a direwolf once before. She was nothing like this one." Vaehra said as Ghost licked her hand gently before returning to Jon's side. Jon stood from the ground as Vaehra approached them. Jon heard a huffing and turned to see Baesegon sniffing Ghost curiously. Ghost whirled around and snapped at the dragon's nose, causing Baesegon to pull back, flaring his wings to keep his balance as he stumbled over his own tail and landed in the snow with a sound like the keep falling in on itself.

Christar rushed to the brown dragon's head, checking his snout for any damage and gently rubbing between his nostrils as the dragon released a sound that was almost a whimper. Christar rested his forehead on the large dragon's snout and shushed him gently.

"Ghost!" Jon admonished. Ghost lowered his ears and ducked his head, tail tucked between his back legs.

"Oh don't worry Jon, Baesegon is only five. It just startled him, dragon hide is tough as iron." Vaehra said. Jon shook his head at the wolf. Vaehra returned to the pile of supplies once Baesegon rolled himself back onto his feet and lay down next to the pile. Vaehra and the other riders began attaching their supplies to the leather harness, leaving out a few extra saddles. The saddles were similar to any other saddle he'd seen, but almost crossed with a side saddle. On either side there was a notch that looked like the riders tucked their legs into, with flat platforms where their feet would sit. The saddle was longer in the front, with two handles on either side. Jon assumed it was for the riders to lay against and hold onto the handles. At the back of the seat, there was a normal saddle back, meant to lean back against.

"Jon, Grab one of those saddles." Vaehra said as she and the riders finished packing the rest of the supplies and armor onto Baesegon's harness. Jon walked towards one, lifting it from the ground and grunting at the weight. These were much heavier than a normal leather saddle. Jon looked towards Vaehra as if asking what to do. She laughed and waved her hand. Jon started as he heard a light thump behind him, turning to see Dessaly behind him. She sniffed at the saddle in his hands before chirping and lowering herself to her belly with her wing outstretched. Jon stepped onto her wing, and Dessaly lifted it and folded it against her back again. Jon settled the saddle in the spot on her shoulders where no spikes grew, letting the short straps poke out from under the edges of the saddle.

"Good! Now," Vaehra approached Christar, handing him a bunch of leather straps. Christar chuckled and walked towards Dessaly, tossing the straps onto her back. Jon barely managed to grab them before they hit him in the face, or sailed over Dessaly's back and landed in the snow on the opposite side of her. Christar scaled Dessaly's foreleg, saying hello to her when she twisted her head around to look at him quizzicaly.

"I'm going to teach you how to saddle a dragon." Christar said with a grin. Jon smiled. He wondered how the saddles worked. Once Christar had gone through explaining where each strap fit and how to tell them apart, he explained how to attach them to the shorter straps on the saddle. He demonstrated one, then let Jon attach the rest, checking his handiwork.

"Great, now let me show you how to make it so your saddle doesn't fall off." Christar said. He slid down Dessaly's side, landing by her back feet with a thump. Jon followed him, landing in the snow and stumbling to a halt. Christar caught him with a hand around his wrist, pulling Jon to a standing position and clapping Jon on the shoulder as he laughed. His scales fluttered in waves along his neck as he laughed, and Jon resisted the urge to reach out and touch them again.

Christar went through the process of hooking the straps together around Dessaly's belly just behind her wings, then the heavy padded strap that went in front of her wing, behind her forelegs, and fastened across her sternum. It was similar to a cinch on a horses saddle, and Christar explained that it was just as important as one as well. He then showed him how to fasten the straps that went diagonally across her chest and met in the middle, the breast collar on any other saddle. Ultimately the straps were similar to what he was familiar with, just much longer and thicker. Dessaly was well behaved throughout the entire ordeal, even when Jon accidentally pinched some of her soft underbelly scales in the strap. She'd just twitched her wings and tossed her head until Christar noticed and adjusted.

"See, not too complicated. Anybody with half a fuckin' brain could do it." Christar said with a grin. Jon looked at Dessaly, who looked unsure how she felt about having a saddle. Jon turned to look at Ghost where he'd been rolling in the snow only to see a now clean white direwolf.

"Why did you have me saddle her?" Jon asked. Christar's grin faltered as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"You, you're coming with us arent you?" Christar asked, his voice sounding slightly disappointed, as if he hadn't even considered the possibility that Jon would stay in Westeros.

"I, I'm not sure." Jon said. Christar's face fell into a frown.

"Oh." He said, before excusing himself and turning on his heel to walk briskly towards Ataim. Ataim saw his rider approaching and stood from his snow nest, turning to nuzzle his head against Christar. Christar patted Ataim's nose before scaling his leg and settling onto his back. Ataim leapt into the air, winging away towards the beach.

Jon heard the snow crunching behind him and turned to see Vaehra approaching him.

"What did you do to my rider Jon Snow?" Vaehra asked with a gentle nudge to Jon's shoulder. Jon sighed and watched as the blue shape of Ataim became smaller and smaller in the distance.

"I just said I didn't know if I was coming with you to Valyria." He said. Vaehra's face remained unchanged.

"What should I do?" Jon asked her. Vaehra hummed, turning to look at Baesegon and Vilor, who were laying pressed together in the snow. She then looked at the rest of her riders, preparing themselves and their dragons for the long flight, then finally to Dessaly, lying obediently next to Jon with her head beside his body.

"I can't make that decision for you Jon." She said. Jon's shoulders fell. He didn't know what to do.

"But," She continued, "I can offer a listening ear." Vaehra said. She pulled her cloak tighter around her, looking to Jon.

"What's stopping you?" She questioned. Jon took a deep breath. There was so much stopping him.

"I don't want to leave my family. Bran is now king, Sansa's a tyrant in the North, I have no idea where Aarya is, Rickon and Robb are dead, my father, both of them, I don't have anybody else." He said. Vaehra remained silent. It was her subtle way of prompting those she was conversing with to continue.

"Not only that, but Westeros is my home. The North, is my home. I wasn't born into this life of, of dragons, and white walkers, I was born a Targaryen, named a Snow, raised a Stark. I don't really know who I am. The Resurrected, the White Wolf, The Lost King, I don't know if that's me." Jon said. Vaehra hummed in thought.

"Well, when we met I plucked you from the wall and brought you here. What if you return?" She questioned. Jon sighed.

"I'd be marked a deserter. And the punishment for deserters is beheading." Jon said. He could never return to the wall again, he'd already deserted once and lived, he couldn't do it again.

"And what will happen if you stay in King's Landing?" She asked. Jon puffed out his lips in thought.

"Either Sansa would send her army to fetch me, or Bran would send me to her in a box. He doesn't want a war." Jon said. He hated to think that his family would betray him that way, but he knew they were only looking out for the best interests of their kingdoms.

"Now, what if you go willingly to the North?" Vaehra asked, taking a step forward and patting Dessaly's nose. The white dragon hummed contentedly and shoved her nose further into Vaehra's hand.

"She would be angry that she couldn't get you and Christar. She'd torture me, if not kill me. She was never a fan of me." Jon said. talking to Vaehra, he realized Valyria was his best choice.

"So Jon Snow, what should you do?" Vaehra asked, resting her hand between Dessaly's eyes. Jon let out a sigh. He knew what he had to do, but that didn't make it easy. He looked to Vaehra, watching the way the wind toyed with her hair and the way she looked at Dessaly with so much love and adoration. He thought of Christar, the way his scales showed his emotions and his eyes glowed even under the stars. The thought of them made him happy. More happy than Ygritte or Daenerys ever could have. More happy than his family, and when he looked at Dessaly, he knew he could never leave her.

"Valyria is the best choice. For everybody." Jon said, stepping towards Dessaly and running his gloved hand over the ridges above her eyes. She hummed deep in her throat, pulling her head away from Vaehra and nudging her nose against Jon's sternum.

"Then you are as welcome in Valyria as Christar or I." Vaehra said, resting a gentle hand on Jon's shoulder. Jon released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, leaning against Dessaly. She hummed at him again, opening her mouth wide. Jon chuckled and rubbed the roof of her mouth the way Vaehra had shown him the day they met. It felt like he'd known her for years, despite it only being three days.

"Now, I'm going to go fetch Christar. Get yourself acquainted with riding in a saddle, we can't have you falling off while traveling." Vaehra said with a chuckle, stalking over to where Vilor was still curled against Baesegon's side. Jon watched as she nimbly climbed up Vilors side as easily as if she were climbing a ladder, and settled herself into the saddle on his back. She placed her dragon helm atop her head, leaning low onto the saddle and gripping the handles, then signalled for Vilor to take off.

Jon watched the smooth movement of Vilor leaping into the air as he beat his wings. It was graceful, fluid, almost gentle in a way. Nothing like how Drogon and Rhaegal looked when taking off. The four legs must make a difference. He waited until Vilor and Vaehra were simple dots in the horizon before turning to Dessaly, pulling his hand from her mouth and patting her nose.

"Alright girl that's enough for now." He said before stepping onto her foreleg and attempting to jump to grab the spikes running along her neck and shoulders. He slipped, landing on his back on her foreleg and Dessaly chuffed at him, before gently nosing at his side. He lay on his back for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He finally rolled himself over, with the help of Dessaly, only to have her grab the collar of his cloak with her front teeth and lift him onto her back. He hung helplessly by the straps across his chest, waiting for Dessaly to set him down.

Looking around, he noticed some of the riders chuckling. He felt a blush cross his cheeks as Dessaly pushed her nose against him, leaving a broad lick across the side of his body. This caused the rest of the riders to burst into laughter.

"What?" Jon called, directing his question to the rider he recognized, Jaerla, on the back of Matanyx the red dragon.

"Vixen's get broody!" Jaerla called. Matanyx slowly approached Dessaly, sniffing at her neck before lifting his head to sniff at Jon. Dessaly flared her wings, hissing at Matanyx as her scales stood on end the way Christar's did when he was annoyed or agitated. Matanyx pulled his head back sharply and let out a clicking noise from deep in his throat, lowering his head and flattening his scales further.

"She's treating you like a hatchling," Jaerla explained as she patted Matanyx's shoulder. He lifted his head and sniffed at Dessaly's mouth before licking the corner of her mouth. "Have fun with your new mother Jon Snow." Jaerla said as Dessaly butted her head sharply against Matanyx. Jaerla and Matanyx walked away from Dessaly, giving her space as she twisted her neck around and nuzzled her head against Jon's chest once more.

Jon patted her nose, taking a risk and nuzzling his head back against her snout. She released a happy trill from her throat, pressing her nose harder against Jon and almost knocking him over. He heard the flapping of wings as Ataim and Vilor landed in the snow on either side of he and Dessaly.

"Didn't I tell you vixen's get broody?" Christar joked from Ataim's back. Ataim sniffed at Dessaly the way Matanyx had, but avoided pushing his nose in Jon's face. Dessaly gave a few warning clicks, her scales standing up slightly. Ataim lowered his head and Dessaly's scales flattened, before she released a soft warble, pressing her nose against Ataim's, then against Jon. Ataim slowly lifted his head to sniff at Jon. Jon patted his nose, looking to Christar on Ataim's back and smiling.

"She's treating you like a hatchling now?" He heard Vaehra ask. He turned to look at Vaehra as Vilor nibbled on a few scales on Dessaly's shoulder. She clicked at him before butting her head against him and shoving him off. She turned and licked at the scales to smooth them down.

"Yeah, I suppose. She picked me up by my cloak and licked me earlier." Jon explained, gripping the saddle tightly as Dessaly shook herself out.

"That's odd, she isn't supposed to go into heat until next week." Vaehra muttered to herself.

"Well, in that case we better get going." She spoke up. She whistled sharply to the rest of the riders. They all settled in their saddles, watching for her command. She raised her voice to be heard across the camp.

"Alright, we're going to travel across the Narrow Sea and stop at the Western-most point of the Dothraki sea. We'll stop there for the night, and continue on tomorrow." Vaehra said. Sedu and Aligosa approached Dessaly, gently pressing against her and nuzzling her face. Dessaly trilled contentedly and allowed the two female dragons to sniff at Jon and nuzzle him gently.

The two dragons pulled away as Vilor stepped forward and lifted his wings, leaping into the air and taking off. Ataim followed closely after Sedu and Aligosa, with Dessaly hot on his tail. Baesegon was next, his heavy wingbeats sounding like thunder in Jon's ears. He glanced back, watching as the rest of the riders waited until he was in the air, before flanking him on either side with one behind Baesegon.

Vilor turned to face the East, propelling himself forward and flying towards Essos, the rest of the flock following closely, back towards their homes.

*In the North*

"My lady Queen," Kean addressed Sansa. He had been appointed lord commander of her queensguard as soon as she'd taken over the North. At first he was proud to be held in such high regard, but after having his nose and ribs broken by that, dragon man, he was beginning to regret his position.

"What is it Kean?" Sansa asked from her seat where she'd been reviewing the stocks of resources left to decide how to divide them. She looked up at Kean, her eyes sharp. Since the Valyrian's had escaped, she had been more harsh with her men. She wanted them dead.

"We've just received word that the Valyrian's have left. They're returning to their homeland." Kean said, awaiting her outburst.

"They what?" Sansa snapped. She was furious. They had yet to discover just where the new Valyria was. All she could get out of Bran was that it was located in Essos, which was obvious as it clearly wasn't anywhere in Westeros. Bran claimed that Vaehra hadn't told him where exactly, but she suspected that was a lie.

"T-they left yesterday, your grace." Kean stuttered out. Sansa planted both hands flat on the table. She didn't know where the new Valyria was, but she had something that did.

"Kean, what is the status of our Valyrian prisoner?" She asked in a strangely calm voice.

"M-my Queen?" Kean asked. Sansa stood from her seat.

"Honestly, do I have to do everything myself?" She snapped, brushing past Kean on her way out. Kean ran after her, following closely as she stalked through the courtyard. The remaining Northern subjects seemed to shrink away from her as she walked with a purpose towards the walled off sept. The sept that was now cleared out to make room for her new toy.

"Is it awake?" She asked the guard standing watch by the door. The guard shrugged. He was too afraid to look inside. She rolled her eyes, throwing the door open and being met with a growl. She stepped inside, approaching the seething black mass of sharp scales and iron bound jaws.

"Oh shut it." Sansa said, pushing the dragon's nose away from her as it tried to bite her. The dragon lowered it's head, pushing itself against the far wall with it's scales bristling and tail lashing back and forth. Sansa looked at the stumps on it's shoulders, covered in dried blood from where she'd ordered it's wings removed.

"You know where they're going, don't you?" She asked the dragon. Kean watched from the door as Sansa approached the chains attaching the dragon to the floor of the sept. The dragon paused in it's angry growls, watching closely. It's bright green eyes followed her as she unchained it from the floor, moving towards the iron clamps around his jaws.

"You can show me where." She said, removing the iron clamps. The dragon shook it's head and opened it's jaws experimentally, turning to Sansa and opening it's mouth wide to burn her to ash. Sansa remained where she was standing as the dragon's throat crackled and nothing came out. The dragon's flame was gone, the fire in it's throat as it crashed to the snow had destroyed it.

Sansa let out a smirk as the dragon huffed and tried lighting her on fire again, until she unchained the last chain around it's legs. The dragon watched her carefully, before surging to it's feet and leaping through the old roof of the sept, splintering the wood as it landed in the courtyard below and leapt the border wall, moving the stumps on it's back as it tried to take off.

The dragon crashed in the snow, tumbling to a halt with a pained squeal. It stood up, shaking the snow from it's scales and turning to look at the nubs on it's back. It let out a howl before turning to look back to Winterfell, seeing the guards ready the scorpions.

"Stop!" Sansa yelled before the guards could launch the spear that would kill the dragon.

"Let it go, it will show us where we want to be." Sansa said. The dragon in the snow took off to the South-East, running at full speed.

"Follow him, but not too closely. We'll find our Valyrian's soon enough."

#jon snow #game of thrones fanfiction #jon snow x oc #original female character #original male character #polyamorous relationship #poly!jon snow #bisexual jon snow #bisexual male character #sansa stark #arya stark #bran the broken #brandon stark #au #alternate universe #game of thrones au #game of thrones #game of thrones spoilers #empressrenwrites

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a-splash-of-stucky · 7 years ago

Text

Bargain

Pairings: Steve x Reader

Summary: What lengths will you go to, to save the man you love?

Warnings: Language, implied abusive relationship, dub-con things...I genuinely don’t know what to put for this one :/

Notes: Hello, it is I, Elsa, Queen of Angst™, back with more angst >.<

Life has been c r a z y but I found this one lingering on my notes app, so I decided to spruce it up and post it on here. There is literally no context for this, I just had the scene in my head and wrote it out. Have fun trying to imagine all the possibilities, I guess.

Also - I have not abandoned my WIPs, they are still there, I just need to carve out some time to update them :)

The brisk autumn wind whips around you, its stinging tendrils nipping your skin. You rub your sweaty palms up and down your bare arms to chase away the cold, but there’s a particular chill inside of you that no amount of friction can seem to heat up.

It’s the middle of the night. As you’d expected, the industrial yard you’ve agreed to meet him in is vacant and eerily silent. The pungent smells of urine, mould and general decay waft into your nostrils. As you pick your way through the dilapidated buildings, you note the junk stacked into haphazard piles, the grimy lights shining sickly yellow circles on the grubby concrete floor.

You round a corner and — there he is, standing with his hands in his pockets and his back towards you. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him.

Fuck, but he is breathtaking.

Steve is standing at the far end of the courtyard underneath one of the few overhead lamps that seem to be working in this godforsaken place. The stark lighting above him, combined with the shadowy darkness of night have turned his pale blonde hair into a shade of honeyed gold. He’s wearing a black bomber jacket, a pair of basic, light-wash jeans and some scuffed black converse. When turns around and spots you, a small grin illuminates his expression.

It takes everything in you to not do the same.

Neither of you say a word as you walk towards him. Your heeled boots crunch in the gravel, the sound quickly carried away by the brisk wind. Steve stays where he is, hesitant to approach you. You come to a stop when you’re about three feet away from him, your hands clasped in front of you, your gaze downcast and to the left, focused on a tuft of grass emerging through the gravel beside his feet.

“You look good,” Steve murmurs, in lieu of a greeting.

You don’t reply. Instead, you self-consciously tug on the hem of your little black dress, painfully aware of how much thigh it is exposing.

“You couldn’t have picked a more shady spot to meet, honey,” he continues, gesturing in a grand, sweeping motion with one hand. A pregnant pause, then, “I missed you,” he adds quietly, like it’s a secret he’s been holding onto.

Fuck. This is going to be difficult.

Your hands ball into fists as you squeeze your eyes shut. You exhale slowly through your teeth, willing your racing heart to calm the fuck down. When you open your eyes, you find Steve looking at you with his head cocked to the side and a line creasing the centre of his perfect brow.

It’s now or never, woman.

“Steve, we need to talk,” you say, proud of how clear and steady your voice is.

His mouth twitches at the corners. “Kinda…figured that’s why we’re here, right?” Steve asks carefully, in a voice that tells you that he’s more confused than he’s willing to let on.

“When were you gonna tell me?” you ask, injecting as much spiteful venom as you can into your words.

“Tell you—what?” Steve echoes, his brows knitting together, his body is beginning to tense up defensively, in response to your accusatory tone.

You swallow back the bile rising in your throat. “Steve,” you growl, “Don’t fucking play dumb, alright? Gimme some credit, here.”

“Honey, I genuinely don’t—,”

“No?” you snap, shooting him as much of a murderous glare as you can manage. “There were so many that you just lost count, huh?”

You can see the gears and cogs spinning like crazy inside his head. Steve is frantically racing to figure out the reason for your anger, but—fucking hell. He’s giving you his confused puppy look and goddammit Steven, why do you have to be so good at that?

“Let me spell it out for you, Steven,” you grit out, when you think you’ve allowed him to puzzle it out for long enough. “I know you’ve been screwing around behind my back.”

“WHAT?” Steve shouts, utterly aghast. You wince internally, fighting hard to not let your true emotions show. You can’t betray the real motive behind your dramatics, but fuck if it isn’t killing you to do this. You want to take it back, you want to take it all back, to throw yourself at his feet and say you don’t mean any of it but you can’t. God, you’d give anything to wipe that look off his face; the hurt, the betrayal, the completely lost and—and heartbroken look in his eyes.

You swallow, buying yourself some time and mentally steeling yourself for the next blow you’re about to dish out.

“Steven, cut the bullshit,” you hiss, “I’ve seen the videos myself, I know the truth.”

“Videos—what?” Steve sputters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Honey, honey, I swear, I didn’t—whatever it is, I didn’t—no, I swear.”

“Steve, I’m done,” you say, the finality evident in your tone. “We’re through.”

He’s been respectfully keeping his distance up until now, but Steve now takes two long strides to stand beside you, catching your wrist as you’re about to turn away and stomp off. His touch is like an iron brand against your skin, the calluses on his fingers familiar and strangely comforting. You want to turn into his grip, to fold yourself into his arms, but you force yourself to yank your hand out of his grip. “Steve, let me go.”

“Please don’t go, honey,” Steve begs. You don’t have to turn around to know that there are tears flowing down his cheeks; you can hear them in his strained, broken voice. “I—I don’t want you to leave—please, I—”.

“Too bad,” you spit, forcing yet more venom into your words. “I’m going.”

“Sweetheart, I—I love you! Please,” Steve cries desperately, his other hand curling over your shoulder, trying to get you to turn around. You struggle against him, resolutely staring in the opposite direction, because you know that once you make eye contact, it’ll all be over.

“No,” you whisper, your voice as coarse as the gravel beneath your feet. “Don’t do this to me, Steve.”

“I—will you, please,” he begs, “Please, I swear on my life, sweetheart. No one else. No one else owns my heart—whatever you saw, it wasn’t—please, baby.” Steve is inching closer, trying to wrap his arms around you, even as you fight to shove him away. You wedge your arm between your bodies and manage to press your palm flat against his chest, pushing hard against the unyielding wall of muscle.

“Stop it,” you growl.

“I can’t, baby, I can’t — you…you make me crazy, you make me want to tear the world apart so we can be toge—,”

“I said stop!” you shout, your voice ringing loud in the deserted yard.

Steve’s jaw slams shut with an audible snap. His hands loosen their grip, allowing you to pull yourself away. You curl in on yourself, bringing your shoulders up to your ears and your arms over your chest. The intensity of Steve’s gaze is practically burning a hole into the back of your skull.

“You don’t mean any of that,” you say, voice barely louder than that. “You—you say it, but you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” Steve says, voice equally as hushed as yours. “With every single fibre of my being, right down to the nucleus of every atom, sweetheart. I love you. I was made for loving you.” The sincerity is evident and it’s physically hurting you to push him away like this.

“Oh really?” you snap, spinning around without warning to snarl in his face. “You love me, really?”

Steve’s brows knit together, the confusion and sheer helplessness written all over his face. His eyes and expression hide nothing — you can see the gears turning inside his head as he tries to make sense of the situation. You’re praying, pleading to the heavens above that your acting skills are up to par; if Steve has any inclination whatsoever that your word are less than genuine, then this would all have been for naught.

He can never know the truth.

“Sweetheart—,” Steve cuts himself off, chewing on his bottom lip as he rakes his fingers through his hair. The tear tracks on his cheek glisten in the murky light. “Baby—whatever’s hurting you…you know you can tell me, right? We—we love each other, and whatever it is, we can work it out. Together.”

“Is that right?” you snap, your voice wobbling a little as the threads holding your facade together begin to fray. “You love me, is that right?”

Steve opens his mouth but you barge on before he can get another word in. Your composure is rapidly slipping and you need to finish this, now.

“I’m not your sweetheart, Steve,” you say coldly. “What we had—yeah. Yeah, it was great while it lasted. But this is on you, Steve. This,” you snarl, gesticulating between you and him in tight circles with one hand, “This is over.”

“Sweetheart—,”

“I am not your goddamn sweetheart!” you shriek, “Fucking stop it will you, you sick bastard!”

Steve jerks back, the force of your words cutting deeper than any knife ever could. They’ve had their intended effect, though; you’ve stabbed him right where the heart is.

But at what cost?

You ache to take it all back, to apologise profusely and swear that you meant none of it, but you can’t. You’re seconds away from puking your guts out, so you hastily deliver the last blow.

“Heartbreak hurts, doesn’t it?” you spit out, “Guess you should’a thought of that before you went and stomped all over mine. Have fun tryna piece yourself back together, Steve,” you say dismissively, turning on your heel and strutting away.

“Y/N—,”

“I’d say see ya’ around,” you call over your shoulder, “But if you come anywhere near me again, I will cut your balls off.”

As you cross the courtyard once more, you don’t hear the telltale crunching of footsteps rushing after you. It’s worked, then.

Blistering hot tears sting the back of your eyelids. The pain in your chest is becoming increasingly acute. You dare not turn around, fearing that the sight of Steve — the love of your life — will be too much for you to handle, in your compromised state. With a resigned huff, you tug down the hem of your dress and march across the courtyard, before weaving through the tight alleyways of the industrial yard. You shoulder open the chain-link fence that marks the perimeter of the site, and, just as you expected, a nondescript, sleek black hair awaits you.

As you approach it, the back door swings open. Your pace falters as you swallow nervously. This is it, you think, as you cast one last glance over your shoulder, towards the yard. Towards Steve. You can’t see him now, as there are too many buildings in the way, but you bid him a silent goodbye, nonetheless.

Squaring your shoulders, you stride forward with confidence and slide into the car in one seamless motion, the door swinging shut automatically one you’ve tucked your legs in. It’s pitch black inside the car, thanks to the heavily tinted windows. The interior reeks of fresh leather.

“Well done, Agent,” croons a nasally voice that seems to originate from the shadows themselves. The mere sound of it sends a sickening shiver down your spine. You fingers tug at the neckline of your dress, wrenching off the mic clip attached to it. You toss the mic to the floor in disgust. You realise that your hands are trembling like leaves in the wind.

“You promised me,” you whisper, your voice wavering slightly as your fingers curl into tightly-clenched fists in your lap.

“Indeed,” the voice continues, inching closer as its owner slides across the backseat towards you. The car lurches to a start, knocking you off balance. You sway at the sudden motion and an arm slings over your shoulder to steady you, drawing you against the man’s side. It takes everything in you to not retch at the contact. You have to physically restrain yourself from shaking him off.

“He’ll stay safe?” you ask, despising how timid you sound.

“I am a man of my word,” he says, avoiding your question. “But only if you uphold your side of the bargain.”

You feel the tips of his fingers trailing over your bare shoulder. You squeeze your eyes shut, battling down the panic and nausea trying to claw their way up your throat. You know how this night is supposed to end; you’d walked into this agreement fully aware of all the terms and conditions, but none of that knowledge is helping to make this moment any easier. You’ve brokered a deal with the Devil himself, but you’re not ready to accept your fate.

Please don’t hate me, you think, as you feel cold fingers pinching your chin and tilting your face upwards, My heart belongs to you, darling. It’ll always be yours. I love you, Steve.

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve x you #steve imagines #steve fanfic #steve angst #steve rogers ang #my writing #bargain #steve rogers fanfiction #steve fanfiction

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siodymph · 6 years ago

Text

Hey guys! I’m super excited to announce I just completed my first commission!

This is for @danvssomethingorother who asked for an AU where Peter Quill was picked up by Rocket and Groot instead of Yondu. It was a lot of fun to write!

If you’d like you can continue reading it under the cut. Or over on my AO3!

And if you’re interested in getting a commission of your own you can check out my information here!

“Three’s A Crowd”

Rating: general audiences

Word Count: 3173

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Go to Terra. Pick up some snot-nosed little brat named Peter Quill. Bring him to Ego, wherever the hell that was. Make a shit-load of money. How hard could it be? It was just baby-sitting.

Unfortunately… nobody told Rocket or Groot that the kid they were picking up was a complete basket-case. The kid was a total mess. All screaming and crying and kicking and punching, lots of punching.

“Holy shit kid! Will you just calm down alre-”

Rocket had been reaching out a hand only to have it slapped out of the way.

“No! Stay away! Get away from me!” The kid shouted hysterically. Backing into the corner of the ship like some feral animal.

As soon as he had been teleported on-board the kid had taken off running and shouting. Working together, Rocket and Groot had corralled him into one of the storage rooms but Peter didn’t look like he was going to cooperate. “Don’t touch me!”

Groot gave the boy a sad face and reached out a hand. “I am groot?”

“I don’t give a shit who you are! Stay away from me!” Peter cried out, hitting Groot’s arm repeatedly until he finally pulled back.

Turning to Rocket, he made a winning noise as he rubbed his assaulted arm and looked back to the boy.

“Yeah? Well what do’ya want me to do about it?�� Rocket groaned. The kid had been on board for a total of four minutes and already he was more trouble than he was worth.

Maybe they could leave him in here for a while, let him cool down? Then after getting some shut-eye they could start again fresh. They hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell Peter what they were doing, as soon as he’d been transported to the ship he was in fight-mode. He doubted the boy had remembered a word either of them said. But maybe he’d be able to shut-up and listen in a couple hours?

Not willing to come up with another plan, Rocket tugged Groot towards the door. “Come on! Kid wants to act like a spaz, he can act like a fricken’ spaz. We’ll deal with this later.”

Groot was stubborn to move, he even tried to give Rocket his sad-eyes, but eventually Rocket got him leave with the promise that they’d talk to the kid after he calmed down.

However, as soon as Rocket had the door open, the kid was off like a flash out of the storage room and down the connector hall.

“Hey! Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” Rocket demanded, immediately going after the boy. As he ran, he whipped back around to Groot. “Go put locks on everything! And disable anything he can get his grubby little hands on!”

“I am groot?”

“No I don’t need any help! He’s just one little kid, how much trouble could he be?” Rocket shouted as he bolted after the kid. It looked like he was heading for the same room he’d been transported in, shit.

“I am groot!”

“Yeah? Well nobody asked you! Just make sure he can’t get off the ship, or break anything important.”

“I am groot!” Groot replied with a huff as he began walking to the cockpit to put the ship on lock-down.

Rocket caught up with the boy in his workshop. Peter found one of his digital drawing panels and was holding it like a life line. The kid must have thought it could control the ship. He kept furiously trying to type and pressing random buttons. When nothing happened he started punching it.

“Hey! HEY! Hands off! That’s expensive!”

But the kid could hardly care. He just kept hitting it and typing in stuff like ‘Return to Earth. Take me to Earth!! Take me home.’

“Knock it off will you?!”

“NO!” Peter shouted, hitting it a couple more times before looking at Rocket wildly. “If… If you don’t take me back to earth, right now, I’m gonna break this!”

“What?!” Rocket couldn’t believe this kid…

“Take me home now or I’m busting this thing!”

“Ugh! I’m not putting you back on Terra! So just stop being a little twerp and put that thing down!” Rocket’s patience for this brat was thinning by the second. “We are not doing this, just give up already! You’re not going back!”

Peter looked at Rocket dead in the eyes. Staring at him. Daring him.

Then he threw the panel at the ground as aggressively as he could.

It didn’t break completely. The screen cracked and one of its corners got crushed in, it would still work. But as soon as that panel hit the ground Rocket saw red.

“That’s it!”

Rocket felt something prickle on the back of his neck. And just as he was about to lunge at the kid a giant wooden arm grew in between them.

“I! AM! GROOT!”

All at once whatever fire burning in Rocket was being doused, and when he saw the scared look on the kid’s face he knew the kid was losing his fight too.

“Who? … What the hell are you people?” Peter asked, breathing heavily, lost.

“I am groot.” Groot answered softly.

“Come on…” Rocket said, still breathing a little weird from their almost-fight. “Let’s get out of here, kid. Groot and I, we’ll explain everything to ya’.”

Rocket was still pissed. Because of that brat now one of his favorite drawing panels for blueprints had a shattered screen. But at least the kid had finally calmed the fuck down. And as the trio left his workshop, Rocket remembered just how lucky he was to have Groot around. Odds were, he’d never be able to run a job like this without him and his eons-worth of patience.

They took Peter up to the cockpit so he could look out the window, really take in space in all its emptiness. As they were fighting their ship had already gone through a jump and left Terra far behind. Up there, they told Peter everything they knew. The Ravager’s deal. Ego. The trip. Peter listened with some confusion, and a little curiosity, but mostly a numbed-shock.

“My mom… My mom kept saying my Daddy was going to come for me… Right before she-” Whatever Peter wanted to say next he stopped himself, curling up into a ball in his chair.

“Oh, so this Ego-guy’s your dad?” Rocket asked. He honestly hadn’t put two and two together. Ego just made it seem like he was looking for some kids. Not his own son.

But Peter didn’t answer. He just sank down into his chair looking sullen. Apparently he was done talking.

Eventually they left to go get some food from the storage room. The kid looked thin as a rail, Rocket noted, and they tried to get him to eat. But even when quiet Peter proved to be stubborn little shit. He did eat a little, but not nearly enough to put Groot at ease, if the sad eyes he kept giving Rocket were anything. And when they finally got the kid to lie down and get some sleep that worried-look had yet to leave Groot’s face. Rocket told himself he didn’t care, but even he made sure to leave an extra bag of snacks next to Peter as he fell into a fitful sleep…

In those first couple days Peter kept to himself. Staying quiet as the dead and listening to his terran music with his headphones blocking out the world. He’d find these hiding spots throughout the ship. Under Rocket’s workstation, the weird gap behind the pilot’s seat, pretty much every nook and cranny on the engine room. As long as he wasn’t breaking anything Rocket didn’t really care. At least he was staying out of the way.

One night though, Rocket woke up to hear the kid bawling his eyes out. Again. Grumbling, he was just about to get off his cot when he heard Groot speaking gently.

“I am groot.”

There was a couple sniffles, then he heard an indignant little reply. “What- what the hell does that even mean?”

“I am groot…”

Rocket jumped down and joined the two. Groot was sitting next to the kid who was curled up into a ball on his cot. Refusing to be touched by anyone. “He said, ‘It’ll be ok.’. If you really wanted to know.”

“How do you know that?” Peter asked.

Rocket gave Groot a look before trying to explain. “You live around him long enough, you start to pick up what he’s saying. It’s kinda weird, and it takes time.”

Peter shook his head. “No! I mean how do you people know it’s going to be ok? It’s never going to be ok ever again!”

“I am groot?”

“Now he’s asking why you’re so sure-”

“Because I stuck in outer space with a talking raccoon and a tree!” Peter shouted, pulling his legs even tighter to his chest. And something seemed to break in his voice. “I’m never going to see my home again! And- And I’ll never see my mom again!”

When Peter started sobbing again, Groot stretched one of his arms out to hug the boy. And this time Peter let him, not even caring about being touched. If anything he actually listed towards Groot’s arm.

Rocket just watched the whole ordeal. The kid was right though. Terra was far behind them now. But he really hated seeing this kid all mopey. It made his face real ugly and he’d make these pathetic noises. That wasn’t the real reason but those were the only ones Rocket let himself think about. No point in admitting he could be getting attached to this kid they were eventually going to leave behind.

Still, Rocket wanted the kid to stop crying just as much as Groot. “Hey? If it makes you feel better Terra’s a dump way out in no-man’s land. You’re better off without it. And hey! Maybe this Ego-guy might come back and pick up your mom too! I mean, if he actually liked her enough to go have a kid with her and all.”

Peter shook his head and his whole body trembled. “-Can’t! She can’t! My mom was sick for a long time… That night, when you guys took me? That was her last- She-” He kept hiccupping as he tried to talk and eventually he just started crying again.

But Rocket finally connected the dots. “So you mom… She ugh- passed?”

Peter didn’t answer, only crawled a little closer to Groot who slowly moved to hug the boy fully.

“Did you have anyone else to look after you? On Terra?”

“My grandpa.” Peter said with a whimper. “But he left me in the hallway. And he wouldn’t even let me come back in…”

“And that’s why you ran out into the woods?” Rocket concluded.

Peter nodded before hiding his face away.

The rest of the night, they stayed by Peter’s side. Talking softly, letting the kid rant, letting the kid cry. And when he finally fell back asleep his face had been wet with tears and a weird pit formed in Rocket’s guts. He really didn’t like seeing this kid so sad…

By morning though, it seemed like something finally changed. For starters Peter joined them up in the cockpit. He still had his headphones in but he made no move to go scurrying under the seats. And for the first time in the entire trip, Peter was the one to begin talking to them, not the other way around.

This trend continued on for several days. And one night in particular, Peter looked up at Rocket as they both climbed onto their cots to rest.

“You know I think I actually like you guys.”

“Woah really?”

Peter nodded as he crawled into his bed. “Yeah, you guys never give me crap for listening to my music all day. And it feels like we talk about real stuff. Not just trying to keep me distracted. Like you guys really want me around…”

For once, Rocket wasn’t sure how to respond. On one hand, he kept trying to see this kid as just a paycheck in the making. However the more time he spent around this kid the more he felt like something was growing. Something that really shouldn’t be growing towards a kid he’d probably never see again…

As they got closer to Ego, these doubts in Rocket’s mind only seemed to get worse. And despite never saying anything to Peter, the kid figured out that they were almost there. He started getting all mopey again and tried hiding all day. And while one part of Rocket almost preferred this, it could make saying goodbye all the more easier, another part of him just felt hurt even worse.

Still though, he had a job to do, and he planned to do it. He had a deal to finish.

At least that was what he thought before. When they were just days away from Ego, a Ravager warship suddenly came down on them and blocked their path.

Not even getting time to reply over radio, a figure was teleported on board. A man with blue skin and a metallic fan imbedded into his scalp. And an arrow in his quiver that had decimated thousands…

“Gentlemen.” The man said, speaking with a twang unnervingly similar to a dialect of English on Terra’s southern US region.

“Yondu.” Rocket replied currently. “What are you doing here?”

“And I take that one’s Peter.” Yondu chose to ignore Rocket and gestured to the boy. The boy in return stuck his head out from behind Groot to give him a scowl. “Nice kid you got there.”

“Fuck off!” Peter shouted.

Yondu seemed hardly phased though. He just leered at the kid, grinning. “Hear you’re Terran. And you know what they say, Terran’s good eatin’. Especially the little ones.”

With wide eyes and suddenly much paler, Peter ducked down behind Groot. And when Yondu started to laugh Groot gave him a judgmental look.

“I am groot.”

“Yeah? Well I thought that was pretty funny. Why don’t you go take terran-boy there for a walk?” Yondu replied with a grin. Only to have it melt away as he looked back to Rocket. “We got something we ought to talk about.”

Groot looked unsure, but Rocket silently waved him and Peter out of the room. And once they were completely alone Yondu breathed a heavy sigh. It was almost like watching a transformation. One moment he was a ruthless, somewhat-charming Captain of the Ravengers, the next he was this sunken, haunted man.

“Alright what the hell is going on here?” Rocket demanded. “I thought we had a deal. You wanted me to help you grab a kid off Terra, I grabbed the kid off Terra. I did everything you asked me to!”

Yondu let him speak, but when the time came for answers he stilled seemed reluctant to talk. “I’ll give ya’ credit, you did your job… Problem is I don’t think even you’d wanna go through with this.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Rocket snapped.

“That boy.” Yondu said. “You like him?”

Now that he was put on the spot Rocket felt his confidence falter for a few seconds. How did he feel about Peter? How did he really feel? “I don’t know. He’s a good kid, has a lot of fight in him. Thinks he’s real smart and sometimes he’s right. He’s not the worst kid in the galaxy. But it’s not like I’ve been going outta my way to bond with this kid, especially since we’re supposed to be dropping him off soon.”

Ever since Rocket saw the Ravager’s ship, a piece of doubt had begun growing in him. “We are dropping him off soon, right?”

Yondu leaned in close, voice barely above a whisper. “If you care about that boy you’ll keep him away from Ego. He ain’t what he seems and that’s all I’ll say about that.”

Rocket was at a loss for a second. “So what the hell am I supposed to do with him?! You realize how much time I’ve spent dragging him across the cosmos!”

“Drag him through more! I don’t care what you do make sure Ego doesn’t find’em again!” Yondu snarled, still keeping his voice low. And after a moment Yondu sighed and tried to calm down. “Alight, if you really don’t want the kid I can take him in. Ravagers ain’t a real family but we stick together. I can find some place to put him.”

For a single moment Rocket was tempted to say yes. But as he did he started thinking more about Peter. How he bobbed his head and mouthed the words as he listened to his terran music. How he hung off Groot’s branches when he got bored. How he got this funny look on his face whenever he was focusing. How he got this fiery look in his eyes when he tried to fight. Or even how sometimes Rocket could catch him softly smiling as he fell asleep on his cot. How happy Peter made Groot… And instead of taking Yondu up on his offer he found himself saying,

“You don’t have to do that. We can take care of him.”

Yondu frowned and gave him a pointed look. “You sure?”

Rocket really wasn’t sure, but he nodded anyways. “Yeah we should be alright. Just a little change of plans, that’s all.”

“Ok…” Yondu said. Backing away from Rocket slowly. “I just wanted to warn you fellas about Ego.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure Peter stays away from him.”

“Good… Good…” Yondu seemed unsure what to say next, but just before he left he turned back. “You’re a good man Rocket, you know that? I don’t care what you or anyone else says. Be good to the boy…”

And with that, he disappeared in a flash of light, and the Ravager’s ship finally flew away.

“I am groot?”

Rocket turned to see Groot and Peter both waiting by the door.

“Yeah, he’s gone.”

Peter still looked around the room for the blue man before carefully stepping in. “What the hell was that about?”

“Nothing you gotta worry about.” Rocket said, “Just a little change in plans. Apparently we aren’t sending ya to Ego.”

“You’re not?” Peter asked. Rocket couldn’t understand the look that passed Peter’s face. It was several things all at once.

“No… you’re staying with us.”

Rocket was nervous to see how Peter would react, but what he hadn’t been expecting was for the kid to start smiling.

“Really?”

“Yep,” Rocket replied. “We were going to send you to Ego but now we can’t. So I guess we’re just gonna keep ya kid.”

“I… I don’t mind.”

Grinning, Peter looked between Rocket and Groot. And Groot bent down two wrap them all in a hug.

“I am groot!”

“Yeah…” Rocket said, almost feeling like laughing. “Couldn’t of said it better myself!”

#gotg #writing commissions #commisions open #peter quill #rocket raccoon #groot #starlord

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pen-scribbled-musings · 7 years ago

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El Viento Bajo Mis Alas: Chapter 1

Summary- The murals above the gateway to Shantytown had been there for generations, nobody knew who had painted them but whoever it was knew something, something about angel like skeletons with wings.It's a wingfic y'all.

Miguel disappeared in a blinding light and fluffy of petals just as the dawns gleam touched over the balcony, leaving marigolds drifting down peacefully to the floor as the only sign he was ever there at all. Hèctor managed a smile. “He's safe.” He breathed, his eyes slipping closed with pure exhaustion.

“That's right, he's safe, we got him home.” Imelda soothed, her hand still holding his though she didn't need to anymore, they had used the petal, their great-great-grandson had been sent back to the Land of the Living.

“... We did it...” He tried to grin at her, only just managing to tilt his head the slightest bit towards her and his lips twitch up into a sad memory of the loving smirk he used to give her when they were alive. “Mmhh.” He breathed out a groan when another flash trembled through his bones. “Imelda... I'm sorry...”

“Shut up you idiota.” She hissed, her hands clutching tighter at his. “It's alright.”

“No... you need to know... I-I never stopped... never stopped trying to come home to you... never stopped loving you... you and Coco, my girls...” He swallowed thickly, his free hand struggling to reach up and stroke his knuckles along her jaw. “... I'm sorry... I always... always loved you...”

“Don't you dare.” She gasped, tears shining in her eyes without a care that her family was watching and stepping a little closer, like they could protect them from the world if they stood together. “You're trying to say goodbye … but I don't want you to go, you can't leave me, not again.” She caught his hand in hers, pressing her cheekbone to it.

“... I don't think I have a choice...” He groaned against another spasm of light.

“I know.” She sobbed, tears spilling down her face.

His eyes were barely open, yet still completely focused on her even as the light grew brighter, his facial markings glowing. “Mhhhh, it hurts...” His hands seized in her grip, clenching around her fingers as he tried to cope with the pain. “... I'm glad that I got to see you again... one last time... you're here...”

“And I'm not going anywhere, we're together again everything will be alright.” She tried to give him a smile, neither of them could be fooled by her words, they both knew how this was going to end.

“Imelda... mi amor, you were my everything... you and Coco were my dream come true... and I'm thankful I could have that dream... even if it was only for a little while...” His voice was growing weaker and barely able to be heard.

“And you were mine, if I could I would do it all again, in any life I would always choose you.” She pressed her lips to his hand, his eyes were still watching her through mere slits, the rest of his face gone slack and his fingers gave one last twitch beneath hers. His eyes fell closed finally and the light overwhelmed him, glowing like a brightly burning flame. “No!” She cried, “Hèctor! No, no, no!” Little sparks of light like dying embers rose into the air as his bones turned to dust, collapsing in on themselves. She still held fiercely onto his hands, unwilling to let go even when all hope was lost.

The air around her felt alive with power, like electricity in the air before a thunderstorm and the light taking her husband away only grew brighter, far too bright. All of them flinched away from the blinding glow, her hands dropping his to shield herself. There was a great spark of energy that was gone as soon as it had come and the light died away.

Imelda blinked furiously, trying to gather her sight back from the temporary blindness and the first thing she saw was Hèctor's face, still whole and here, laying peacefully just as he had been a moment ago. She let out a relieved sob, her eyes a little wild and a grin on her lips.

“Dios mio...” Julio breathed behind her.

“He's got...” Victoria began before trailing off in shock.

“Wings...” Felipe concluded, his eyes wide and hat clutched in his hands, his brother wearing an identical expression at his side.

She stared down at the man she had called the love of her life, it was true a pair of large white feathered wings lay at his sides, long flight feathers reaching down past his feet. What on earth was going on?

“... He's not disappearing anymore!” Rosita gave a nervous laugh, all of them crowing around the pair. “I don't understand but this is wonderful!”

Imelda gave a weak nod, reaching out a trembling hand to touch a nearby feather of one wing, it was so smooth and soft beneath her bones, and so very real, he was real. Her fingers trailed down to find his hand again where it had fallen to the floor, he was still here and real!

“Uh, Imelda I don't want to hurry you but there is a crowd of thousands of people right behind here and I think they're going to find us soon.” Oscar spoke up, worriedly glancing towards the stage they had come from, knowing what the girls had done and that people must have seen what had happened, eventually some people were bound to come looking for them.

“I think that's the last thing we need right now.” Felipe agreed.

“But what are we supposed to do with him?” Victoria questioned, staring around at her family members.

Imelda sucked in a harsh breath, her hand furiously rubbing away tears that still lingered on her cheekbones. “We take him home.” She decided, knowing that her family needed her to lead them. “We can try to sort this out there we just need to go somewhere private where we can think.”

Her brothers gently gathered Hèctor up between them while she whistled for Pepita who came back down looking incredibly pleased with herself and was purring when Imelda climbed up on her back, with caution and a jointed effort they got Hèctor up on the alebrije. When the rest of her family had managed with a squeeze to climb aboard they were off through the sky, she leaned forward with her husband practically pinned beneath her to ensure he wouldn't slide off.

It felt it had been an age when they finally landed in their courtyard, the walls around their house keeping out any curious eyes as the twins took ahold of the unconscious man again, one of his arms pulled across either twins shoulders. They paused and both looked at their sister with an unasked question, waiting for instructions. “Let's get him into my room.” She nodded, before leading the way into the house and on towards her own bedroom. Oscar and Felipe grumbled to themselves as they followed, Hèctor's large wings were dragging along on the floor and they struggled not to trip up. “Bring him over here.” She called, opening the door and walking across the room, already pulling back the bed covers. They got him into the bed, laying on his side with his impressive wings draped across the width of the mattress behind him, his feathers reaching down the other side to brush against the floor.

“So?” Oscar began, eyeing her as she warily observed the new body parts.

“What should we do?” Felipe asked.

Imelda leaned forward, Hèctor facing away from her and her hand reached out to touch at the base of his wings, she found that sure enough they were certainly attached, a new set of smaller scapula like bones just tucked under his original set. Strangely, or perhaps rightly so the wings were just as devoid of flesh as they all were, the soft feathers digging themselves directly into his bones in a most peculiar way.

The rest of the family had gathered around her, staring with her. “What can we do?” Victoria murmured. “The man has wings, I've never seen anything like it, I bet nobody has.”

“But perhaps surely someone must know about this? Someone who's been here a long time?” Rosita suggested, her doe eyes glancing around her family.

“Or a doctor.” Julio nodded.

“Or we just ask him when he wakes up.” Felipe shrugged. “He's been here longer than us and they're his wings, maybe he knew this would happen?”

“That's if he wakes up.” Oscar frowned, only for Rosita to jab her elbow into his ribs with something of a glare.

“You know what.” Imelda sighed as she turned towards them. “It's been a very long night and you all must be tired, why don't you all go get some rest?”

“But Mama Imelda, where will you sleep?” Rosita questioned gently, glancing nervously between her and the unconscious man.

She shrugged. “It's fine, I'm not really tired right now, I think I'll sit with him for a while.”

“Well if you're sure...” Victoria frowned.

“I am, now to bed with all of you.” She herded everyone out of her room and closed the door behind them. Secretly pleased when they were gone, as much as she loved her family she wanted some quiet time alone to think right now and there was certainly a lot to think about. She pulled a chair over from her vanity table to sit at his side and couldn't help but notice how grubby he seemed in her clean bedding with his ragged clothes, the wings had ripped apart the back of the remaining scraps of a jacket he wore, leaving only the surviving sleeve and some rags hanging around his shoulders. She tugged up her soft purple bed covers over him and tucking them around his ribs to allow for the ridiculously large wings, they suited him she couldn't help but think, he'd always had been a tall lanky thing, the new bones only added to that effect.

“What have you gotten yourself into this time?” She murmured gently, reaching out and brushing away hair from his closed eyes, his ribs steadily rising and falling with his breath. It was a pleasant reminder he was still here, he was here and breathing, he hadn't disappeared yet.

She could only hope here was where he'd continue to stay.

#hector rivera #imelda rivera #mama imelda #coco #coco pixar #coco 2017 #fic #wingfic

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legendofzeldaalinktothepast · 4 years ago

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Pathetic, Clinging Poetry - Chapter 9 (of 25)

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

I cross my legs, fold my hands, Straighten out my spine, Wear a skirt, gloss my lips, For a moment that won't come.

Yet here you sit, An effortless work of art With no need for sparks Just you, and you alone; And you're brighter than the sun But I can't close my eyes.

As Amethyst buried her face into her pillow, the sound of footsteps in the hallway reminded her just how late -- or early -- it was. Either Jasper was up and getting ready for work, or Pearl was up and moving around. She rolled over onto her back with a sigh, rubbing her sore eyes and ripping her headphones out of her ears. Not even her white noise playlists were enough to help her sleep, so she decided it was best to just get out of bed for the time being, even if it meant falling asleep in the middle of the day and being mocked by Jasper.

Amethyst rolled off of her bed and made her way towards her bedroom door, unlocking it and slowly pulling it open; she spotted a trail of light leading down the hallway, noticing that the curtains to the balcony door had shifted. 'Must be Pearl.' she thought with a yawn. Tying her hair up into a bun and popping a stick of gum in her mouth to freshen herself up, Amethyst slid the glass door open and peered out onto the balcony. "Morning, Pierogi."

Pearl flinched, turning back to glance at Amethyst. "O-oh, good morning!" Pearl said. The tone of her voice was clearly on-edge; she was leaning against the railing with a cup of tea in her hands, anxiously swirling it around with a small spoon. "You're up early."

"Didn't really sleep much." Amethyst shrugged, scratching the back of her head. "Insomnia can be a bitch."

"Oh, I know that feeling." Pearl said. Her gaze never left her cup of tea; Amethyst noticed it was completely full and not even steaming, and wondered how long Pearl had been stirring that cup or if she'd even drank from it at all.

"How'd it go with Rose yesterday?" Amethyst asked, leaning against the railing.

"Ah, it was wonderful... She was so happy to see me." Pearl's voice seemed to immediately perk up at the opportunity to speak about Rose. "And she was excited to finally receive the poetry book; she even reassured me that her husband wouldn't be uncomfortable with it." Pearl traced the rim of the cup with her finger, her expression dropping. "Right now, though... It's a little hard to be happy about that, because... well, she confirmed something I didn't want to hear."

Amethyst raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"She... really did abandon Jasper back in high school. And now she wants me to deliver an apology for her." Pearl sighed. "And... now I feel so foolish. When I had that fight with Jasper, I'd told her right to her face that I thought she was lying about the whole thing. Now I feel like I was being even worse than her..."

"Hey, you didn't know that, alright?" Amethyst placed a hand on Pearl's shoulder. "And with the way Jasper was acting, I really can't blame you for thinking she lied. You may have screwed up, I can't deny that, but... she's got no place to judge you either. Not after the way she acted to both of us."

Pearl took a sip of her now-cold tea. "I suppose you're right." she said. "I was never good at admitting when I was wrong... But I can't live with this tension anymore." She placed her cup of tea down on the railing, turning to Amethyst with a sad smile. "Does this kind of thing happen with you and Jasper?"

Amethyst snorted. "Like, every day. We fight over every little thing under the sun, but we don't... really make up afterwards. Just kinda act like it never happened a few hours later; we're too far up our own asses to admit when we're wrong -- and by we, I mean Jasper -- and ignoring it is the only way to keep this house from turning into a warzone." she sighed, resting her elbow on the railing. "But she can't hate me too much. Like I said, she lets me stay under her roof and eat her groceries and all that shit."

"So did my mother." Pearl regretted her words the moment they left her mouth. "I mean -- not that she's anything like my her. At least I hope to God she's not. That was a harsh comparison, but -- what I meant was, just because she does nice things for you doesn't mean there's no room for improvement."

"Hey, don't worry, you've barely told me anything about her, so I didn't think much of it." Amethyst reassured. "But... yeah, I getcha. I guess it's something I'll have to put up with until I move out. Which is probably, like, a hundred years from now."

Pearl smiled sadly. "I could say the same for myself. We're both pretty dependent on her for now, so I think it's best we both try to make things better, correct?"

"Blehh." Amethyst stuck her tongue out. "You're right, but I hate it."

Pearl placed a hand on Amethyst's shoulder. "I know. It might be easier if we talk to her together rather than approaching her individually."

"Blehhh..." Amethyst groaned even louder. "It's just kinda different because she's my sister, you know? She sees me differently than she sees you. Like, way differently."

"Yes, I know..." Pearl sighed, gently stroking Amethyst's back in an attempt to comfort her. "But that doesn't mean it's the right way. If she doesn't see you as a wonderful, talented, beautiful person, then her own sibling rivalry has blinded her, and she just needs to open up her eyes."

Amethyst huffed with amusement. "Pfft, don't try to flatter me."

"I'm not." Pearl smiled, her cheeks flushing as she rested her arms back at her sides. Even with her hair a mess and her eyes baggy from sleep deprivation, Amethyst looked serene in her own way as she gazed off into the neighborhood with her arms on the balcony railing. She had an urge to brush a strand of hair away from Amethyst's face, but restricted her temptation, feeling as if she'd already shown more physical affection than was necessary.

"Hey... you know, I don't have to go anywhere today. Perhaps we could do something fun to get our minds off this? Maybe something low-energy, like taking a walk by the duck pond, or watching a movie at home. That is, only if you're not planning to go back to sleep, of course! No pressure either way..." Pearl blushed a little, feeling silly for temporarily forgetting that Amethyst had been up all night.

"Hm... I think my best bet would be to stay up. Wouldn't wanna fuck up my sleep schedule even more than I already have." Amethyst said, standing upright and stretching her arms. "A movie might make me sleepy, though. Let's do the walk first, maybe feed some ducks."

"Alright, perfect! A-and remember there's no pressure, if there's something else you'd rather do, feel free to throw the idea out there!" Pearl said.

"I'll be sure to keep it in mind." Amethyst said with a wink. "Lemme change into something a lil less grubby and we can head out.”

Little fuzzy ducklings peeped as they paddled behind their mother, their webbed feet kicking the surface of the water. Pearl rested her arms against the fence, unable to resist cooing at the mere sight of them. "Aren't they just precious? I wish I could take one home..."

Amethyst ripped open a bag of frozen corn, grabbing a few kernels and tossing them in the ducklings' direction. "Yeah, they're cute little guys." she said, watching as they all hurried towards the corn and gobbled it right up. "You know, I've tried to convince Jasper to let me get a bird, but she said fuck no to that." Amethyst continued, rolling her eyes. "Said they smell weird and they're loud. I think she confused them with herself."

"Wow, harsh." Pearl chuckled, reaching into the bag for some corn. She pulled out a clump of kernels that were frozen together and carefully separated them with her fingers before throwing them to the crowd of paddling and quacking ducks.

"I'm joking, she probably showers more than I do." Amethyst snorted. She somewhat regretted saying it, however; not because it was mean spirited, but because it felt like they'd already talked about Jasper enough that morning. "Anyway, one of these days I wanna come out here with a canvas and just paint in front of the duck pond."

"Oh, that's a lovely idea! And maybe one day we could do one of our collaborations here as well!" Pearl flapped her hands with excitement. "Of course, I'm sure you probably want to come out here to paint and have some alone time, too -- so no pressure."

"Pfft, you kidding? We've only done one collaboration; don't even think for a second that I'm already sick of it."

"Technically only half of one, since I didn't quite do my part..." Pearl laughed awkwardly.

"Can't blame you; writing is hard." Amethyst said.

"So is painting!" Pearl said. "Though I guess we have our own talents, so it's probably not as hard for you as it is for me. I could never do abstract art... Whenever I draw or paint, I focus so much on making sure everything is neat, perfectly in place, not a single speck out of the lines, and I need it exactly how I pictured it in my mind. It took me hours to do coloring pages as a kid, and I drove my art teachers insane."

"I drove mine insane too, but for different reasons." Amethyst said. "I'd always draw all over myself with the markers. And once they banned me from using the markers, I started eating the crayons."

Pearl burst into laughter. "You sure sound like you were a handful."

"That's putting it lightly." Amethyst tossed a corn kernel up in the air; a seagull swooped down and snatched it right up. "Whoa, did you see that?"

"I did! You have excellent aim." Pearl remarked.

"Thanks!" Amethyst held the bag of corn up to Pearl. "Here, you wanna try it?"

"Alright, but I'll warn you my aim isn't very accurate..." Pearl blushed and reached in for another handful. She winded her arm up for a moment and then tossed it up into the air; the corn, however, somehow went in the opposite direction and bounced off the head of a stranger walking past, resulting in a distant "what the fuck?".

Pearl immediately turned around and hid her face, and Amethyst wheezed with laughter. "Damn Pearl, you could throw a rock at the ground and miss!" she cackled.

"I told you I had awful aim!" Pearl blushed, but she was unable to hide the smile spreading across her lips.

"Yeah, but I wasn't prepared for it to be that bad!" Amethyst wiped a tear from her eye and sighed once her laughter died down, giving Pearl a rough pat on the back. "You crack me up, Pierogi."

Still blushing, Pearl touched a hand to her cheek. "Ah... did you feel that? I think I felt a drop of rain."

"Nope. You sure it wasn't a splash from the pond?" Amethyst asked.

"I guess it could've been..." Pearl said, turning her attention back towards the ducks. She flinched as she felt another raindrop. "Ah, there it was again! I think it's startling to sprinkle."

Amethyst felt a few drops hit her face as well. "Eh, maybe you're right." she said, wiping them off with her sleeve. "Wanna head over to that bench?" she suggested, gesturing to a old wooden bench sheltered perfectly beneath a tree.

Sprinkling turned to full-on raining, and raining turned to pouring as the two hurried over to safety. "I should have brought my umbrella along..." Pearl sighed as she sat down. "Sorry, I should have planned this a little better."

"Don't worry, I don't mind chilling in the rain for a bit." Amethyst said, sitting down beside Pearl and placing the bag of frozen corn aside.

Pearl placed her hands on her lap, twiddling her thumbs. "Alright, that's good at least. I do enjoy watching the rain every now and then... It's just strange how suddenly it came on like that!" she remarked.

"Yeah, it happens." Amethyst shrugged, leaning back and stretching her arm across the headrest of the bench. Smoothing out her skirt, Pearl found herself scooting a bit closer to Amethyst, rubbing her bare arms. "Though I wish I'd brought my jacket, or worn longer sleeves at the very least..." Pearl commented.

"No wonder you're cold, you're such a skinny little thing." Amethyst sat upright and began to unbutton her red checkered flannel. "Here, wanna borrow this?" she asked.

"Ah, but won't you be cold in just your tank top?" As cold as she was, Pearl knew she'd feel guilty if Amethyst were to sacrifice her own comfort.

"Nah, I was actually getting kinda warm." Amethyst handed the shirt over to Pearl with a smile. "Promise, it's fine."

"Alright... Thank you." Pearl blushed, slipping her arms into the flannel; it was still warm from Amethyst's body heat. "That's much better... thank you."

"No problem, girlie." Amethyst said. She stretched her arms again and placed them right back where they were; as much as Pearl tried to keep her gaze forward, she couldn't help but turn her eyes towards Amethyst every now and then, noticing how her tank top hugged her figure. Pearl also found herself eyeing the dark body hair under her arms, and this observation alone made butterflies flutter in Pearl's stomach. 'Don't be creepy.' she thought, shaking off the thoughts that began to enter her mind.

"Damn, we still got all this corn left." Amethyst said, snapping Pearl out of her little daydream. "And it's almost thawed out. Maybe I can get the ducks to come on over here."

"Good idea!" Pearl said, her cheeks still lightly flushed.

Amethyst gently shook the bag in her hand, her gaze focused on a speckled brown duck straight ahead, huddled underneath a bush with her ducklings. She turned her head towards the bag of corn, but still didn't budge from the comfort of her nest.

"Damn. Guess they're not hungry." Amethyst shrugged, tossing the bag of corn to the side. "Or at least not hungry enough to get a little wet. Which is weird, considering they're always swimming."

A sudden honk frighted both Pearl and Amethyst out of their skin, and they turned to see a huge, fat goose had approached them.

"Aw, hell yeah!" Amethyst pumped her fist, while Pearl was still recovering from the shock of its dramatic entrance. Amethyst threw a handful of corn in the goose's direction, which he happily gobbled up. "Holy shit Pearl, I've never seen a goose this big! He probably gets fed three loaves of bread a day!" She shoved her hand into pocket and retrieved her phone. "I gotta take pictures of this chunky boy!"

"What a cute little guy! Well -- not little, but you know what I mean." Pearl shyly grabbed a handful of corn from the bag. Before she could even toss it onto the ground, however, the goose leaned right up and ate the corn straight from her palm. Pearl's jaw just about dropped to the ground, and she heard the 'click' of the camera on Amethyst's phone.

"This guy's got guts!" Amethyst cackled, and the moment the goose was finished Pearl whipped a mini bottle of hand sanitizer from her skirt pocket and poured an excessive amount onto her palm. "H-he sure is eager!" Pearl stuttered, her skin crawling as she imagined just how many germs that goose must have left behind.

"Here you go big guy; since the other birds are too pussy to come out in the rain, you can have the rest!" Amethyst said, dumping the remaining corn onto the grass. The goose honked happily and wiggled its little tail as it gobbled its snack right up. "Man, I think I'm gonna adopt this little fucker. I'm gonna name him Chumbo."

"Are you planning to take him home?" Pearl teased.

"Man, I wish! But that's probably some form of illegal." Amethyst said, taking one last picture of the goose before putting her phone away. "Besides, he's probably got friends. Maybe even a wife and kids."

"Or a husband and kids!" Pearl added with a wink.

"That's true, Chumbo is definitely a fellow gay." Amethyst grinned.

As Chumbo finished up his frozen corn and waddled off, the rain finally began to slow down. "Would ya look at that! I think our buddy here controls the weather." Amethyst said.

Pearl huffed with amusement. "Yes, of course! He only made it rain because he was grumpy about being hungry." she said, pulling herself to her feet and stretching. She re-adjusted the flannel on her shoulders. "By the way, are you feeling cold yet? This flannel is so comfortable, but I don't want to keep it away from you!"

"Not at all." Amethyst reassured, pulling herself to her feet. "Besides, you look super cute in it."

Pearl blushed and covered her cheeks with her sleeves so Amethyst wouldn't see how flustered she'd gotten. "Oh, t-thank you!" she said, unable to suppress the smile spreading across her face. She took in the scent of the flannel once again, letting out a silent sigh; she could tell Amethyst had put on some sort of perfume, but it was something very mild and natural that Pearl found rather comforting, even though she couldn't make out whatever the exact scent was. "Anyway, let's head home, shall we?" she suggested.

"Good idea." Amethyst shoved her hands into her jean pockets and led the way back to the sidewalk; as they headed towards the gates of the park, Pearl's heart was still pounding in her chest. 'Calm yourself! Don't look so deeply into such a small compliment...' she thought.

As the clouds began to clear up and the sun continued its journey through the sky, Pearl caught a glimpse of a faint rainbow in the distance. The ducks began to retreat from their hiding places, and a small family of them pattered across the sidewalk in front of Pearl and Amethyst. A comfortable silence fell between the two, and for the moment, Pearl was far away from all of her unwanted thoughts.

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logans-chestnuts · 7 years ago

Text

As You Are, Part 5

Pairing: Logan x Reader

Warnings: Language, Eventual Smut

Gorgeous artwork by: @giggleberts

Part 4

Your alarm went off but you were having such a delicious dream that you didn't want to open your eyes. You were tangled with a hard, warm body, legs entwined, head on his arm as his chest was pressed against your back and his arm was holding you close, his warm breath in your hair. Logan.

This was so bad. All you wanted to do was roll over and kiss him, make love to him all day and feed him grapes or some other romantic bullshit. Trouble is, if you were a betting woman you would wager all your money that Logan wasn't the romantic sort.

Your heart had gone rogue. It was writing checks you weren't sure your mind and soul could cash.

Logan had actually been awake for a while. He had slept soundly with you next to him and awoke when the sun started lightening the room. He didn't want to move and wake you, and so was instantly aware when you awoke, snuggled against his chest (and in the process rubbed your ass on his dick,) and then felt you stiffen and pull away after your brain caught up to the situation.

He didn't blame you for being skittish. He definitely was, too.

“Good morning,” he whispered, dropping a kiss on your head.

You looked over your shoulder at him with his messy hair and sleepy eyes and you just...melted. Logan had tightened his hold on you, apparently sensing your flight instinct about to kick in, but you rolled over in his arms to face him instead, tilting your head back and kissing his nose.

“Good morning, handsome,” you said with a smile.

Logan smiled back and leaned in for a kiss, but you leaned back and said, “Morning breath, Logan!”

“I don't care,” he said, continuing in to kiss you. “I have no disgusting sounds to report, but you did drool on my arm.”

“I slept like a baby. You could have lit up the room and I didn't notice,” you said, snuggling against his chest as he rolled onto his back. Then your leg bumped into, “Oh, my!”

“I’m a guy. I get hard in the morning when I’m alone. With you here it was a given.”

“I...um...thanks?”

Logan laughed uproariously. “Oh, kitten, if you had any idea what dirty thoughts are going through my head right now you’d run away screaming.”

“You seem to be perfectly calm,” you said curiously.

“I will always control myself around you,” he said seriously. “At least until you ask me not to,” he finished with a wink.

“Why do I feel like this is the first time and the millionth time I’ve woken up next to you?” you said quietly.

“I feel the same. I’m not gonna bullshit you or play games. I have been a real asshole to women in the past. Hell, last week. I want you to know that you're different. But I also know that you’ll need time to believe that.”

“It's not that I think you're --”

“Shhhh I know. I know what I am and I know what I must seem like to you.”

“You're in my bed, Logan,” you said softly, caressing his beard. “Obviously I trust you. I have no idea why or if I should, but I do.”

“Just so you know, the second you're ready I am so ready,” he said rolling you onto your back and kissing you deeply and passionately before he hopped off the bed, winked at you and headed into the bathroom while you laid on the bed in a daze. You totally checked out his ass. And it was perfect. Of course.

You got up after you heard the shower go on and got your clothes together for the day, then went out and made coffee. By then, Logan appeared with a towel slung low on his hips, looking completely edible.

“Do you have to do that?”

“Do what?” he said, laughing

“Look that good. I’m in danger of becoming a morning person,” you said with a wink, walking past him to get in the shower and slapping him on the ass. You managed to restrain yourself from stealing the towel.

You took a quick shower and blow dried your hair, then went to your room and got dressed and slapped on a little make-up. When you went to the kitchen Logan was sitting at the table looking at his phone and drinking coffee. Holy shit you could get used to this.

You came up behind him and slid your arms around his neck, dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Have a great day, Logan.”

“Hey, not so fast!” he said, pulling you down into his lap. He smelled like heaven and when he kissed you he tasted of mint and coffee. “I might not be able to get away for lunch today. My father put a meeting on my schedule and I have no clue what it's about. You're coming to my place tonight, right?”

“Logan…”

“Whaaaat? I want you to come over,” he said as he kissed your neck.

You closed your eyes against the delicious heat of his lips and gentle scratch of his beard on your neck, but he still caught and catalogued the shiver. “I’ll be over,” you said, running your fingers through his hair.

“I’ll pick you up here, we can grab dinner and then go back to my place.”

“There's an empty cube in my office. Sure you don’t wanna work there?” you said, half teasingly and half longingly.

“So you can come sit on my lap and play with my hair any time you want?” he rumbled against your throat, passion lowering his voice.

“I actually love this idea so much,” you moaned, moving your bottom on his lap and feeling his body respond.

“Fuck, I want you, Y/N,” Logan said, then he kissed you hard, all need and heat, as he squeezed your hip and ground his hard-on against your ass.

You moaned into his kiss, feeling the desire and passion Logan poured into it.

Logan pulled away and cleared his throat. “We better get going to work. I don't want you to be late because I can't keep my hands off you.”

You laughed and said, “What about my hands all over you?”

“That is highly encouraged, baby girl,” he answered with a mischievous wink.

L: I definitely can’t do lunch. My father is in meetings all morning and I still have no idea what he wants.

Y: I’ll miss you. You have me spoiled. :)

L: You have not yet begun to be spoiled.

Y: I need to start spoiling you, I guess. What do you get the man who has everything, though?

L: Less is more, darlin. Put yourself in my bed wearing a bow and I’ll be happy.

Y: You are easy to please. ;)

L: I’m a simple man. I simply want to make you scream my name all night long.

Y: So...we’re having Mexican for dinner? ;)

L: ??

Y: You want me to scream your name all night, so I assumed you were going to be gassy tonight. :P

L: LOL You are driving me insane. Thank God for internet porn.

Y: So you're ummmm scratching your own itches?

L: You asking me if I’m going to fuck anyone?

Y: I like to think I was being more subtle and polite than that but, yeah, are you fucking anyone currently?

L: When have I had time?

Y: Men can always find time.

L: Ah.

Y: Yeah yeah I got cheated on blah blah blah. I notice you didn't answer.

L: I have not even thought of another woman since I laid eyes on you. I jerk off to thoughts of you and imagining all the ways I’m going to fuck you. That answer your question?

Y: :D :* :) :) :*

Y: I mean... that's cool ;)

L: Falling hard, baby girl.

Y: Me, too, baby boy. :*

Logan put his phone down with a smile and went back to his email to see if he could figure out what his father was going to jump his shit about. There was no other reason for him to call a meeting between the two of them and Logan’s ass was his absolute favorite chew toy.

Logan would have rather thought about you, but he knew that he better have his shit together and be prepared for a pop quiz.

“So glad you could make it, Logan,” his father opened with when Logan entered his plush office and sat down across the desk from him.

“What did I not make that pushed the company to the point of ruination this time, Pop?”

“You know I detest it when you call me by such a common title.”

“Yes, I do.”

“So where were you Tuesday afternoon? We had need of you.”

“I wasn’t aware of any pressing business and I was always available by phone. Did you attempt to contact me by phone, Father?” Logan asked sarcastically.

“I shouldn’t have to. You should be here when you’re needed. Luckily William was able to placate Aoki enough --”

“Whoa whoa what the fuck is that psycho William doing with his grubby fingers in the Aoki deal?”

“A little something we like to call work, Logan. I hope whatever whore you were off fucking was worth it because once again you’ve let your dick keep you from doing your work.”

“Just don’t worry about her. She has nothing to do with this except she actually thinks I am not a complete waste of oxygen. Needless to say, I plan to keep her far away from you and Mom.” He felt bad not defending you to his father, but he knew there was no point. If you liked Logan there had to be something wrong with you in his father's eyes. Still, it infuriated Logan to hear you called a whore.

“Very funny. If she was even remotely appropriate we’d be delighted if you could find someone who could attempt to control you. But in this case, she's keeping you from your duties. I have called your housekeeper since you apparently haven't been spending much time at your apartment and had her prepare a bag. Your flight leaves in two hours.”

“Fine. Is that all, Pop?”

“No, try not to make a fool of yourself with whatever girl or boy fetish you have this week. And I plan to have your new toy investigated if you plan to be around her much.”

“I do.”

“Then I’ll get a guy on it.”

“Will that be all?”

“Yes, Logan, you can go call your new plaything and cancel your plans for this evening.”

Logan gave his father a dirty look but knew that he was powerless to stop his father from trying to ruin things with you. The story of his life.

Part 6

@drinix @giggleberts

#logan westworld #logan westworld x reader

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writingthingsisdifficult · 7 years ago

Text

Y/N knows best

Dean is hurt, and so restless, and wants to leave the bunker to go with Sam, and Sam asks Y/N to convince Dean that he’s not well enough yet.

I was listening to my Disney obsessions playlist on Spotify, the “Mother knows best” came on, and I got this vision in my head. So: have a silly, little fic. Hope it can help to cheer up this Sunday. Let me know if you want on or off my tag list, and I’ll be super happy if you tell me what you think of the story.

Word count: 1221

With each step towards the library, the angry voices grow louder. Well, not so much angry, as exasperated and pleading with notes of rage and subtle hints of an underlying threat. Stopping in the doorway, I watch as Dean argues with his brother while leaning heavily on the crutches he has been dependent on the last month and a half.

“I’m going crazy in here,” he says, waving one crutch in the air. “Come on, Sammy, I’ve cleaned every weapon at least twice, and –“

“Forget it,” Sam replies. He shakes his head so his long hair dances over his shoulders. “You’ll just be in the way. The doctor said eight weeks, and it’s only been six. Besides: it’s not a big case, I’ll manage on my own.”

I have a hunch Sam is just trying to get away from the Bunker and Dean, and as much as I love the idiot, being cooped up with a Dean with a busted leg has been hell sometimes. I can’t blame Sam for needing a change of scenery.

“Yeah, but,” Dean mutters through a pout, “there’s nothing wrong with my arms. I can still shoot, and as you said: it’s just a tiny case…”

Sam rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Listen, you can’t sneak around on those things. And the Wildlife Services would never send someone with a broken leg. Think it through, Dean!”

But Dean isn’t prepared to give up. I watch their little dance back and forth for a while before Sam spots me.

“Ah! Y/N, help me out here. Dean is in no shape to hunt right now.” He gives me a perfect impression of a begging puppy. “Tell him I’m right. He always listens to you.” The way he so casually mentions it makes it hard to breathe, and my chest swells with nerves and anticipation.

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but I nod to him before he can say anything. “Your brother is right, you really should rest, you know.” I hum silently, feeling a mischievous smile spread over my face. Then finally I step into the room, swaying a little and twirling around Dean, who follows me with suspicious eyes.

Nodding to Sam, letting him know I got this, I begin to sing in a voice dripping with honey: “You want to go outside? Why, Dean...! Look at you, as fragile as a flower, still a little sapling, just a sprout. You know why we stay up in this … bunker …?”

Blinking, Dean follows me around the table with his eyes, huffing silently. “What? But…” Confusion lies thick over his voice.

I let out a tiny laugh and continue the song, setting up a heartbroken expression as I spin around to face him: “That's right, to keep you safe and sound, dear. Guess I always knew this day was coming… Knew that soon you'd want to leave the nest… Soon, but not yet…”

“…Y/N…” Dean’s voice is serious, but lighter than I would expect. Good. He is at least curious, and there is an outburst of laugher bobbing just under the surface.

Putting one finger over his lips, I look up at him through my eyelashes, trying to sound as innocent as I possibly can. “Shh! Trust me, pet: Y/N knows best.” The song is interrupted by Sam’s loud chuckle, and I shoot him a theatrical glare. He bites his lips together, breathing hard through his nose.

Satisfied, I resume my singing: “Listen to your Y/N: it's a scary world out there. Y/N knows best, one way or another something will go wrong, I swear,” I sing, growling under my breath, “ruffians, thugs, poison ivy, quicksand, cannibals and snakes… The plague!” Dipping dramatically backwards to look into Dean’s eyes, I flop an arm over my forehead and sigh loudly.

He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth curls up. “No –“

“Yes!”

Sam clamps a hand over his mouth to mute the laugh that bubbles over his tongue as I swirl over the floor like a ballerina out for blood, jumping out of my way when I tiptoe in his direction.

Continuing, I snarl and bare my teeth and curl my fingers to claws. “Also large bugs, men with pointy teeth, and… Stop, no more, you'll just upset me. Y/N’s right here – Y/N will protect you. Darling, here's what I suggest: Skip the drama, stay with… uh… Y/N… Y/N knows best!”

Dean sits down in a chair and rubs his eyes. “Really, Y/N? There are monsters to kill, innocents to save –“

He has always been more stubborn than is good for him, but I can play that game too. Drawing a completely serious face, I make my lower lip tremble before continuing: “Go ahead, get trampled by a rhino.”

“Rhino? What?” Dean mouths to Sam, who shrugs and giggles behind his hand.

“Go ahead, get mugged and left for dead! Me, I'm just your…” I hesitate; what are we, really? I know what I’d like to be, but… “Best friend, what do I know? I only bathed, and changed, and nursed you – yeah, no, ew, sorry – Go ahead and leave me, I deserve it… Let me die alone here, be my guest! When it's too late, you'll see, just wait: Y/N knows best.” Leaning wearily on an empty chair, I close my eyes and inhale slowly, turning my face away from Dean and Sam before twisting around and dancing energetically around Dean’s chair.

“Y/N knows best, take it from your Y/N, on your own, you won't survive!” I belt out, pulling on his t-shirt – it’s so soft and warm I almost lose my train of thought – before skipping off again, “sloppy, underdressed, immature, clumsy: please, they'll eat you up alive!”

Dean shakes his head, and waves Sam away with his hand. He knows I won’t let him go on this hunt. Internally I roar from the victory.

Coming to a swaying halt in front of Dean again, I smile and lower my voice to an affectionate whisper: “gullible, naïve, positively grubby… Ditzy and a bit, well, hmm vague. Plus, I believe, gettin' kinda chubby.” I pinch his cheeks, but shake my head. Dean is anything but chubby, and the thought brings fire to my face.

“I'm just saying 'cause I wuv you… Y/N understands, Y/N’s here to help you: all I have is one request… Dean?” I ask, looking soberly into his eyes.

“Yes?” he replies with a look that almost takes my breath away.

“Don't ever ask to leave this bunker again,” I finish, fluttering my eyelashes and smiling shyly, hoping that thing I saw in his eyes wasn’t just in my imagination.

Putting a strong arm around my waist, he pulls me close with a shit-eating grin. “Yes, Y/N.” He thinks for a moment: “If you promise to stay with me.”

Gaping, I stare at him, unable to say anything at all, but I think I manage a tiny nod.

“Y/N, I love you,” Dean mutters, looking very much like an embarrassed schoolboy.

“I love you more,” I whisper back, barely daring to breathe.

“I love you most.”

Somewhere in the bunker I vaguely register a door slamming shut and an engine roaring to life, but I am too lost in Dean’s eyes to care.

Tagging my wonderful Rapunzels:

@awesomeahwu @brynleewolfe @funwithfanfics @babeinthebowtie @savingapplepie-eatingthings @winchesterprincessbride @savvythedork @littlegreenplasticsoldier @youtubehelpsmesurvive @blackcherrywhiskey @mrswhozeewhatsis @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @aiaranradnay @fandomismyspiritanimal @barneybrigade @mogaruke @wstrumpel @whovianextrodinare @hennessy0274-blog @sushi-senpai-chan @tardis-is-mine @badasssweetsrebel @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @megasimpleplan4ever @bitch-i-am-a-dean-girl @iruff685 @kathaswings

#dean x reader #reader insert #supernatural fan fiction #dean winchester #fanfic #spn #supernatural #love #fluff #silly stuff #writing is hard

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azvolrien · 7 years ago

Text

The Hawk Steppes - Chapter Eight

You get a twofer today - this one (which is a bit longer than the rest; I couldn’t find a good spot to break it up) and a short epilogue. Let’s ring out 2017 in style.

~~~

Sunset brought a change of guard. The new Charek warrior bumped knuckles with the previous guard and sat down on a stool by one of the roof supports with his spear across his knees, watching the prisoners closely.

“This guy looks much more alert than the last guard,” said Calburn, almost under his breath. “We might’ve slipped away once she’d fallen asleep. I don’t think this one’s going to.”

“I can fix that,” said Rhona. “But we should wait until it’s full dark. You still remember your unlocking spells, right?” Calburn just gave her an offended look. “What am I saying, of course you do.”

“Stop that muttering,” said the guard, rattling the blade of his spear against the cage bars. “Or I’ll shut you up myself.”

Calburn’s expression suggested he had thought of several smart replies, but he refrained from voicing any of them as the last glow faded from the sky and the campfires were lit. The guard got up to light the small glass lantern above his head, keeping one eye on his prisoners, and sat down again. Another man brought him a steaming bowl of something, chatted for a few minutes, and went back to his tent.

Rhona palmed a loose stone from the cage floor and flicked it at Roxy, who glared at her. Rhona held eye contact for a few moments, then jerked her head towards the lantern as subtly as she could. Roxy’s only reply was a small shrug of confusion.

Snuff it out, mouthed Rhona. Roxy’s eyes widened slightly and a small smile, barely visible in the flickering shadows, appeared on her face. She grasped the cage bars and closed her eyes, searching for the energy of the tiny flame.

As she snatched away its heat, it went out as quickly as if she had walked over and blown it out. The guard frowned and stood up to look at it.

“My turn,” whispered Rhona, and reached out with her own powers, trembling with concentration. The guard yawned widely and rubbed one hand across his eyes, then sat back down. Rhona gritted her teeth, furrowing her brow, and the man finally slumped down where he sat, sound asleep and barely noticeable without the lantern above him.

Calburn rocked forwards onto his knees and planted one hand flat against the cage lock. It clicked open immediately.

“That was a neat trick,” said Athi once both she and Roxy were out of their own cages and all four of them had fled to the shadows behind a tent some distance from the stockade. “So that’s what a sleep spell looks like?”

“More or less,” said Rhona. “They’re difficult to do right. Exert too much pressure and you risk dealing serious damage to the target’s brain.”

“And that would bother us right now because…?” said Roxy. Calburn gave her a hard look. “Fine, never mind.”

“You’ve been here the longest,” said Rhona, turning to Athi after a moment’s hesitation. “Where would they have put our weapons?”

“There’s an armoury tent out near the forges,” said Athi. “I saw it when they made me take Longstride around the perimeter.”

“We can’t leave Longstride with them either,” said Calburn. “My guess is they plan to use her like a war elephant? Sort of a battering ram and archer platform mixed together.” Athi nodded. “So unimaginative. They’d be better off using her to haul supplies if they want to turn this little warband into a proper army. An iron ox is a hybrid construct,” he added to Rhona and Roxy, “but it terms of how it relates to its riders, it’s more like a built one than a grown one. They can’t be made to obey a single commander, like Vrand and Mossy only listen to me. Athi’s the only person here who knows how to control Longstride, but she’s not the only person who can. If one of this lot,” he waved a hand to indicate the entire Charek camp, “works out how it’s done, rescuing Athi won’t put much of a crimp in their plans.”

“He’s right,” said Athi. “They only have the one, but one’s still enough to do some damage before the Legions come down on them. We either need to take Longstride with us or…” Her breath caught in her throat. “Destroy her.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the iron ox,” said Roxy. “I don’t think any of us has the oomph to destroy her.”

“Or at least, not so badly that they can’t work out how to fix her,” said Calburn.

“So we take Longstride,” said Rhona. “We grab our weapons if we can.”

“And we high-tail it out of here,” finished Athi. “Don’t suppose either of you know any invisibility spells?”

“I don’t think those really exist,” said Calburn. “C’mon, you’re going to have to guide the rest of us here.”

Athi nodded. “Longstride first,” she said. “This way.”

The path from the stockade to the canvas-covered iron ox was slow and winding. The main thoroughfares through the camp were reasonably well-lit by lanterns and torches fixed to supports at even intervals, with few points where a fugitive could safely hide. Instead Athi led them through the dark, narrow spaces between and behind the tents, pausing in the deepest shadows whenever a Charek patrol – or just a wandering drunk – came too close. A couple of times, Roxy had to repeat her trick with the lantern to provide the shadows.

Finally, there was only one stretch of open space to cross to where Longstride waited.

“There are too many people,” said Roxy as all four of them crouched behind a grubby tent. The camp’s command tent was busy; all four walls had been tied back, leaving a canvas roof to shelter Jaran and his lieutenants as they pored over a sand table, and other warriors came and went constantly. Vrand’s pebble rested on the table beside Jaran.

“Wait here,” continued Roxy. “I’ll make a diversion for us.” With that, she slipped back the way they had come. Minutes later, a tent near the earthworks behind them went up in flames. “There,” said Roxy, rejoining the others as Jaran and the rest of the Charek abandoned the command tent and ran towards the fire. “Diversion.”

“Your control of fire’s improved,” said Rhona as they dashed out towards Longstride. “Have you been practising without us?”

“I didn’t do that with magic,” said Roxy, jogging alongside her. “I just lobbed a torch at it.”

“Oh.”

Athi ducked under the canvas and climbed up to the cabin on Longstride’s back. “Everyone up!” she hissed without removing the canvas. “And clip on!” she added, handing everyone a safety line once they had all joined her. Calburn took a moment to grab Vrand’s stone and shove it into one of his many pockets. “We’ll stop at the armoury to try and get your weapons, but once she gets going, she’s going to go fast.” She knelt behind Longstride’s head and bent to attend to something, muttering under her breath.

“Can’t we use Vrand?” asked Roxy. “Or will he still be damaged when he comes out of the pebble?”

“No, he’ll have healed,” said Calburn, attaching the safety line to the flying harness he still wore. “But he takes too long to materialise, and I think the Charek might notice a giant glowing dragon-thing-shape suddenly appearing in their camp.”

“All right,” said Athi, getting back onto her feet. “She’s active. Shift the sheet so we can see where we’re going.” As Calburn and Rhona lifted the canvas away from Longstride’s head, Athi cracked her knuckles and grasped two moulded steel handles jutting up from the cabin’s front handrail. Tiny witchlights began to flicker all along the rail, matched by similar lights appearing on the backs of Longstride’s horns, and the iron ox took one ponderous step forwards.

“How does this work?” asked Roxy, fascinated, as Longstride steadily picked up speed.

“I’ll explain it to you some time when we’re not running for our lives,” promised Calburn.

“Armoury’s this way,” said Athi above the thunder of Longstride’s footfalls. The construct slowed to skid around a corner, her claws leaving deep ruts in the earth underfoot, and sped up again towards the smoke of the camp’s forges. A young man hurled himself out of her path and picked himself up to blow several quick blasts on a horn.

“Here! Grab your stuff and get back up here!” Athi tightened her grip on the handles; Longstride came to a halt beside one tent so quickly that both Rhona and Roxy lost their balance; Calburn, holding on to the handrail, remained standing and unclipped his line to let him scramble down to the tent. Moments later, he emerged with his sword, Rhona’s polearm, and Roxy’s bow and quiver in his arms, passed them up one by one, and climbed back up.

“Tie those down or something,” said Athi. “If they fall, we’re not going back for them.”

Calburn nodded and tied his scabbard across his back; Rhona did the same with the haft of her polearm. Roxy clipped her quiver to her belt and strung her bow so she could tuck her shoulder through it. Athi nodded. Longstride began to move again. The palisade atop the earthworks ahead of them drew rapidly closer, but Longstride neither slowed nor stopped, instead lowering her horned metal skull and bulldozing right through the log wall in a shower of splinters.

Their exit did not go unnoticed.

“Athi, we’ve got company,” said Calburn, thumping her on the shoulder and pointing behind them, where the flames from Roxy’s diversion had been extinguished and several mounted figures appeared at the broken palisade.

“Yep, not unexpected,” she replied, hunching low over the rail just as an arrow bounced off the cabin roof. “Horses can’t match an iron ox at full speed. Now you’ll see exactly what Longstride can do.”

The iron ox’s gait shifted up from a swift walk until she was barrelling along at a full gallop, more like a rampaging karkadann than a horse. Hooves drummed against the earth behind them as the Charek gave chase, but they were soon drowned out by the blasting wind of Longstride’s passage. The camp’s lights faded into the distance and were soon several miles behind.

“Don’t celebrate just yet!” warned Athi as Roxy gave a whoop of triumph. “We still need to-”

A strange vibration rumbled through the air, something entirely different to Longstride’s footsteps, and metal screamed under stress as the construct listed wildly to one side and crashed to the ground. Her passengers cut the safety lines and hurled themselves free of the wreckage, just in time to see one of the construct’s clawed forelegs – neatly sliced through at the elbow – fall from the sky with a deafening clatter.

“Oh, gods,” said Calburn as the air shook again, more strongly than before, and a portal ripped open behind them to release more angry Charek riders than they could easily count. “They do have a Portallist.”

“Leave her!” said Rhona, grabbing Athi’s arm as she stared blankly at Longstride’s severed foreleg. “Cal, there’s no time to fix it – we’ll have to use Mossy and Tyren.”

Calburn nodded and yanked Mostol’s summoning stone from around his neck. “Come on, come on… Right! Mount up! Let’s go!”

Tyren, smaller and lighter by far, could only carry a single rider; Roxy and Athi had to cling to Mostol’s packsaddle as the two constructs began to gallop.

“If we can keep ahead, we have a chance,” Rhona shouted. “These two aren’t much faster than a horse, but they can keep going for longer.” Athi nodded weakly, still staring back at the remains of Longstride, and wound her arms through the straps of the packsaddle. Roxy, instead, hooked her legs into the harness and readied an arrow.

Calburn unhooked the marble pouch from his belt. “This’ll buy us some time!”

“Marbles?!” yelled Rhona. “What, you’re going to try and trip them?”

Calburn didn’t answer; instead he loosened the drawstring with his teeth and flung the pouch over his shoulder, scattering two dozen solid granite marbles across the dark ground behind them, then stuck finger and thumb in his mouth and gave a long, rising whistle. Lights flashed amongst the long grass; within moments, two dozen wolf-like constructs solidified, leapt to their feet, and sprinted back towards the pursuing Charek. The squeals of terrified horses echoed through the night. When the wolf constructs caught up once more, their teeth were stained with blood.

Rhona stared at them.

Calburn noticed. “You seriously thought I carried those marbles around for sentimental reasons?” he asked without slowing Mostol. “I have to keep a few tricks up my sleeve!”

“You are bonkers,” said Athi. Roxy nodded her agreement, but her broad grin suggested that she did not disapprove.

The air shook as another portal opened, this time off to their right; half of the pursuing Charek rode through and circled around, trying to herd their prey back towards the others.

“Roxy, try and spot their Portallist,” shouted Rhona, banishing all thoughts of Calburn’s sudden wolf pack. “We’ll never shake them if they can jump ahead like that!”

Roxy nodded and knelt up on Mostol’s back, still steadying herself with the harness straps. Her eyes narrowed in thought; without a word, she nocked an arrow, drew back the string, and loosed.

One man, riding pillion with another Charek, toppled from his horse. The portal vanished immediately.

“We can talk about where they found a Portallist later,” shouted Rhona when Calburn thoughtfully opened his mouth. “Escape now, ponder later! Oh, no.”

The flanking riders had overtaken them. Calburn hauled on Mostol’s reins so hard that the construct let out a roar, but he turned on his back legs nonetheless and galloped away between the two groups. The Charek rejoined behind them, much closer than before. One rider hurled a javelin, narrowly missing the end of Tyren’s tail. Others stood up in their stirrups, readying ropes and arrows.

Roxy hung her bow across her chest and looked around frantically. A fierce golden light flared in her eyes as she swung one arm wildly out; fire roared into life behind Mostol, catching the dry grass in a long dividing line between the Charek and their targets. Horses whinnied in fear, shying away from the flames; Charek swore and shouted as they tried to control their mounts. Roxy swayed where she knelt, but Athi grabbed her tunic before she could lose her balance altogether. The gap widened once more.

“Well done!” shouted Calburn. “How’d you do that?”

“Not sure,” said Roxy. “Energy of the wind, I think.”

“Nice one! Let’s just hope that doesn’t spread too far…”

The Charek had similar thoughts: while most rode around to continue the chase, a few dismounted to try and beat the flames out. It did not diminish their numbers by much. Jaran rode at their head, his sabre unsheathed in one hand and most of his warriors close behind. The tiring horses struggled to catch up to the constructs and more and more fell back as Calburn’s wolf pack ran to harry them, but soon arrows began to fly. One thudded into Mostol’s rump, but he kept running without even seeming to notice. A second struck deep into Tyren’s ankle; she let out a shrieking roar and fell, sending Rhona flying from her back. Tyren vanished in a flash of light, leaving only the stone clutched in Rhona’s hand.

Calburn dug his heels into Mostol’s flanks, turning the construct, grabbed Rhona’s wrist, and swung her up behind him. Laden with four people, even Mostol began to struggle. The gap gradually narrowed once again.

“Come on, Mossy, keep at it,” urged Calburn. “We can do this, just keep going!”

Slowly, the first dim light of dawn appeared in the east. Roxy cocked her head and turned to look, just as a sliver of sun rose above the horizon. As Mostol groaned under the weight, Roxy clenched her jaw, knelt up once again, and stretched her left hand out towards the rising sun. The right, she pointed palm-first towards the Charek.

It began as a strange, faint glow on her left hand, shining within the veins, and swiftly travelled up her arm, growing more intense as it went. The glow reappeared in her eyes, brighter and more frightening than before.

“Roxy, no!” Too late, Rhona grabbed at her shoulder. Light lanced down Roxy’s right arm and erupted from the palm of her hand in a blinding, searing torrent. Her mouth gaped in a soundless scream, revealing the same glow in the pit of her throat.

When the light finally faded, a blackened furrow as wide as Mostol was long and half as deep had been carved through the heart of the Charek warband. Jaran had survived, still astride his big roan, but even he could only stare in shock as half of what had once been a horse and its rider – now charred into ash – toppled into the pit.

Roxy’s eyes rolled back in her head, no longer glowing. Wisps of smoke curled up from her right hand, the palm reddened and blistering, and she collapsed where she sat. Rhona and Athi caught her before she fell.

“Make for that outcrop,” said Athi, pointing towards a raised spur of rock jutting up from the Steppes a mile or two ahead. “I don’t think we can outrun them much longer, but gods willing those wolves of yours can help hold them off.”

One side of the rock was a steep slope that even Mostol’s broad three-toed hooves were hard-pressed to climb, while the other three were sheer crags. It was barely twenty feet high at its tallest point, but compared to the open plains it was practically a fortress. The wolf constructs took up a guard position at the ‘gate’ as Mostol’s passengers dismounted at the top.

Frowning, Rhona pressed two fingers to Roxy’s wrist.

“Is she all right?” asked Calburn, unsheathing his sword.

“Power exhaustion,” said Rhona. She adjusted her grip on Roxy’s arm and began to heal the burn on her hand. “She’ll be fine if she can sleep it off.” She looked up at the approaching Charek and added, “Assuming we aren’t all killed in the next five minutes. Can you bring Vrand out now?”

“I don’t think I have time,” said Calburn sadly. “The wolves should keep them at bay down there.”

“They have bows,” said Athi. “Can you two do shields at all?”

“Not reliably,” said Rhona. “And not against arrows.”

“Hunker down behind Mossy,” said Calburn. “He’s got thick skin – he can take a few arrows.”

Roxy’s blast had scattered the warband in all directions, but a few yells and gestures from Jaran soon gathered the shaken survivors. Although the horses were reluctant to get any closer to the wolf constructs, before long the rock was completely surrounded.

“How long do you think you can hold out up there?” asked Jaran, leaning on his saddle horn as the other Charek passed around a flask, each taking a small sip. “There’s four of you, and still more than a hundred of us even after your young witch’s little trick.”

“What’s the wait, then?” asked Calburn, peering over Mostol’s back. “Scared to take us on without your birds to soften us up?”

Jaran laughed. “We can catch more thuru. In time we can find another portal-maker. With planning it won’t be hard to get another iron ox. But I can’t really afford to let scouts bring word of us to the man calling himself the Great Khan.”

“What’s this all about?” asked Athi.

Jaran smiled and rested the blunt edge of his sabre against his shoulder. “What it’s always about,” he said with a little shrug. “Wealth and power. We draw out the Great Khan, and suddenly not just the Steppes, but the whole Empire is under Charek control.” He lifted the sabre to point at them. “Under my control. This new Khan is weak. We can take him easily.”

“He’s completely delusional,” said Rhona.

“Agreed, but that doesn’t help us much right now,” Athi told her.

“So what’s the bloody holdup?” yelled Calburn.

“Simple,” said Jaran as Charek warriors began to throw their heads back with unearthly screams, lashing the air with swords and spears. “Had to wait for the bearskin to take effect.”

As one, shrieking as much as the thuru had, the drugged warriors threw themselves from their horses and charged. The wolf constructs closed in at the foot of the slope, snapping at ankles and wrists, here and there bearing a warrior to the ground to tear at their throats, but they could not stop them all. More and more slipped through the gaps in the wolves’ line to scramble up the slope or scale the sides of the little crag. Rhona jabbed down at clutching hands with her polearm, until one climbing berserker simply grabbed the weapon by its curving blade, ignoring the edge as it sliced into his fingers, and yanked it from her hands with a froth-at-the-mouth yowl. Heedless of the blood now oozing from his hands, the man – a full head taller than Rhona and broader than Calburn – heaved himself up onto the top of the crag and dragged a short sword from his belt.

Calburn turned at Athi’s shout, lifting his own sword, but a coiling lasso wrapped twice around his hand and dragged backwards, slamming him roughly against the makeshift parapet of Mostol. The sword fell from his hands to clatter on the rock underfoot.

The big man jabbed out with the short sword, aiming for Rhona’s heart; with a final, desperate cry, she lurched forwards, planted both hands flat against his boiled-leather breastplate, reached in with her powers, and pulled. The man stopped dead, motionless but for the occasional twitch. Each breath rasped and bubbled in his throat; blood spattered from his mouth and nose with each heave of his chest. His face paled, vessels standing out on each side of his neck, and the whites of his eyes turned red. Slowly, he toppled backwards off the crag, dragging screaming Charek with him as his nerveless body plummeted to the ground.

Rhona slumped to her knees, staring at her hands. Calburn scrabbled at the taut ropes around his arm, trying to free himself. Athi swallowed hard and picked up the big Charek’s fallen sword, standing over Roxy’s motionless body.

A flash of movement in the sky; a tiny shadow flickering over the churned-up grass. One of the Charek raised her spear and stabbed upwards at the little winged construct circling overhead, missing every time as the crystal bound to its harness glittered.

The air vibrated, drumming against their ears more loudly and for longer than before, and three wide portals tore open to the sound of hooves. Horses, dozens of them, poured through the gateways – riders of Yaigan, Mojor, Safrin and every other tribe of the Hawk Steppes lifted spears, swords and bows and screamed their war cries, cutting down Charek like scything wheat. Some, the less berserk, dropped their weapons and lifted their hands in surrender, but Jaran grabbed the nearest bearskin flask and lifted it to his mouth.

The point of a sabre skewered the flask and dragged it from his hands. Ernak scowled at him, tossed the flask to the ground, and trampled it beneath his horse’s hooves.

One last group walked through the central portal before it closed behind them. Zar folded his arms and surveyed the battlefield, his thuru cloak shed in favour of full Legion armour – more decorated than that of a normal soldier, part of the helmet mimicking the Imperial crown, but still entirely functional. The Paladins surrounded him, shields and javelins at the ready.

Zar lifted one hand and pointed directly at Jaran. “Bring him to me.”

A few normal legionaries with Lagara insignias took their place as the Paladins formed up and surged forwards. Jaran yelled for bows; Silver barked out one word – “Testudo!” – and the god-soldiers lifted their shields as one. Arrows bounced off the steel bosses or embedded harmlessly in the wood, and the war-pack began to march. No sword, arrow or spearhead broke through their shield-wall, until they broke the formation to drag Jaran from his horse and carry him bodily through the fray to where Zar waited.

It was quickly over. Those Charek who had surrendered sat under guard, while other riders from Khan’s Kurgan began to pile the corpses in a heap. Ernak climbed up to the crag as Calburn dismissed Mostol and the wolf constructs.

He made a choked sound at the sight of Roxy on the ground. “She’s not-”

“She’ll be all right,” said Rhona quietly, still staring at her own hands. “It’s called power exhaustion. It happens sometimes when a mage overdoes it.”

Ernak sighed in relief. “And the rest of you?”

“Not badly injured,” said Calburn, rubbing the rope burns on his wrist.

Athi backed him up with a nod. “How did you know where to find us?”

Ernak pointed up at the little construct still flying in circles. “It knew where to find you,” he said, “and something about that crystal meant the Portallists could find you.”

“Yeah, Portallists are big on crystals,” said Calburn. He got stiffly to his feet and lifted one hand. The little messenger fluttered down to land on his arm and vanished into its stone. “The Charek camp is up that way,” he added, pointing back along the trampled trail. “We’re not going back there.”

Ernak nodded. “The rest of us should be able to find it easily enough now.”

One by one they traipsed down from the rock, Rhona leaning heavily on Calburn and Ernak carrying Roxy in his arms, and made their way over to Zar.

Jaran knelt before him, two javelins pressing against his back and two swords crossed against his throat. The rest of the Paladins waited with their own javelins readied.

Zar reached up, removed his helmet, and passed it to one of the Lagara soldiers. “So,” he said, his voice perfectly steady and completely flat. “You are so-called War-Khan Jaran, the one responsible for stirring up the Charek.”

Jaran spat on the ground and glared up at him.

“You are also, therefore, responsible for the attack on Horse Rock, the destruction of the Ironstone Mine headframe, the theft of Iron Ox Longstride and the kidnapping of its drivers, releasing berserk thuru into Khan’s Kurgan, resulting in the deaths of fifty-seven civilians and twelve soldiers of the Sixth Legion and untold amounts of property damage, countless other thefts and murders, and conspiring to murder the Great Khan of the Hawk Steppes and consequently the Emperor of Kiraan.”

Jaran nodded shortly.

Zar tapped his fingers against his long sword. “My father would have had you dragged to the Imperial City in chains and publically disembowelled in the Grand Arena,” he said, his voice still without expression. “But I am not my father, and I have no stomach for such cruelty.”

Jaran snorted. “Weak.”

Zar’s eyes narrowed very slightly. “Let him stand.”

The Paladins glanced at each other from behind their visors, but the four pinning Jaran drew back their weapons. Jaran got to his feet, reaching for a sabre he no longer carried.

With one terrible motion, Zar drew his sword, closed both hands around the hilt, and swung. Three feet of heavy, razor-sharp steel flashed in the dawn light. Jaran’s head bounced once and rolled away as his body collapsed.

Zar took a cloth from his belt to clean the blood from the blade and walked over to the other Charek prisoners. “Never forget,” he said, a controlled fury creeping into his voice, “that the crown of the Empire is forged of iron. Those who threaten my people will face consequences.” He sheathed the sword and folded his hands behind his back. “The rest of you, I leave to the justice and mercy of the Steppe Tribes. You may discuss their fates amongst yourselves,” he said to Ernak and the rest of the chieftains who had ridden through the portals. “Spare some for questioning.”

The whole story didn’t take long to come out. Jaran, exiled from a Yaigan band three years before for murder, had risen to lead the outcasts through force of personality; his Portallist, an ex-Mojor with a prodigious self-taught talent, had joined up soon after when he was caught pilfering from the food stores at Jaran’s camp. A contact in the black market had supplied them with a barrel of bearskin elixir, originally smuggled from the Sea Loch Country for use by less scrupulous arena fighters. Gradually a plan to replace the Great Khan with one of their own had taken shape. Satisfied with the information, the allies from Khan’s Kurgan had ridden off to take care of the Charek encampment.

A few of the Charek escaped before they got there. Most did not. The smoke from the mass pyre billowed high into the air, and did not fade for days on end.

Calburn, Rhona, Roxy and Athi saw none of it, flying back to Khan’s Kurgan on the fully-healed Vrand. They settled back into Ernak’s encampment with Aysel, the band’s children, and anyone else too old, young or infirm to fight, and waited for the others to return. Aysel tucked Roxy into her sleeping bag and told one of the children to keep an eye on her. After a couple of days, Ernak and the rest of the warriors returned from mopping up, helped on the journey by the Sixth Legion’s portals. A very groggy Roxy emerged from the tent under her own power and wolfed down the plate of bread and cheese Aysel handed her.

“Did we win?” she asked through a mouthful.

Calburn nodded and looked sideways at Rhona, who kept rubbing her hands with a faraway look in her eyes. “Yeah, we won,” he said, and sighed. “You channelled the sun out there, Roxy.”

Roxy swallowed and grinned. “I did, didn’t I?”

Calburn smiled. “You did a good job. But that kind of power is dangerous – very dangerous. You were lucky to get out with a bout of power exhaustion. You could’ve burnt yourself out.”

“You did burn your hand,” said Rhona without looking at Roxy. “And it’s a wonder you didn’t do anything to yourself internally.”

“Listen,” said Calburn as Roxy’s smile faded. “We – Rhona and me – will have to go back to the mine now that this Charek trouble is over. There’s still work we need to do there. More constructs, more healing. We plan to set off tomorrow morning. But if you aren’t going to become a real danger to yourself and everyone around you, you need someone who can instruct you properly, someone who has a better understanding of your abilities. That’s not us, not in the bone-deep way you need. Here.” He took a notebook and pencil from one of the many satchels on his belt and began to write. “This is the address of another wizard back in Stormhaven. There’ll probably be someone closer to hand that’ll be able to help, but if you’re up for the journey, he’s the best choice. His powers are a lot like yours, and he’s a good friend of ours, so we know he’s trustworthy.” He tore out the page and gave it to Roxy, who took it in one slightly trembling hand.

“Stormhaven, eh?” said Ernak, draping an arm around Roxy’s shoulders. “I hear they’re a civilised sort of people up there. Don’t fret, Roxy, we’ll work something out for you. Any supplies you two need for heading off, you’re welcome to them.”

On Vrand, the journey back to the Ironstone Mine would only be a matter of hours. Rhona quietly excused herself and sat at the edge of the camp while the band help Calburn pack up a few bits and pieces.

Ernak noticed, and sat beside her while Aysel directed the others. “Your first battle?” he asked.

Rhona nodded. “If you don’t count the thuru skirmish.”

“I remember mine,” he said. “I was young, younger than Roxy. Our band was camped in the eastern reaches, in the shadow of the Border Highlands. Some reivers – hill tribes – swept down from the mountains one night. They were a wild lot. We only managed to drive them off because everyone – everyone – took up arms, or they would’ve killed all of us and taken our livestock, or so my father said. I was so scared, those reivers barely even looked human to me. They took their own dead and vanished back into the mountains, leaving us to deal with ours. Including my mother. I had nightmares for years afterwards.”

“One of them took my weapon,” said Rhona, looking at her hands. “So I killed him with my powers. Just reached into his chest and tore at his insides. That sort of power… It’s meant for emergencies, if you have to make incisions without a proper scalpel to hand.” She lifted her glasses off and pinched her nose. “Healing magic shouldn’t be used to kill.”

“Maybe not,” said Ernak. “But if your life’s in danger, there’s no shame in making use of what you have. A knife, a rock, a hammer… Just about anything can kill in the right – or wrong – hands. Magic’s no different to any other tool that way.”

Rhona nodded, but said nothing. Up on Vrand’s back, Calburn finished strapping supplies to the harness and waved for Rhona to join him.

“Do you think you’ll come back to the Steppes some day?” asked Ernak as Rhona stood up.

“Maybe,” said Rhona after a long silence. “I’ll have a lot to take care of before then. Work at the mine. Work at home. And I’ll have to talk to the head of the School of Healing, for more reasons than one. But after that… Yes, maybe. I’ve enjoyed most of my time out here. It’d be good to explore for a while without worrying about Charek or thuru.”

Ernak got to his feet and took a few steps forward. Rhona turned to look at him. “I was betrothed once,” he said. “She wouldn’t accept an elfin foster-daughter. That was the end of it. You, I think, wouldn’t have that problem.”

“Ernak…”

“May I kiss you?”

Rhona held his gaze for a few seconds. “No,” she said, very softly. “But thank you for asking first.”

Ernak nodded sadly. “Go well, then,” he said without rancour. “Thank you for all your help, with Roxy and with the Charek. Come back to Khan’s Kurgan one day.”

Calburn climbed down from Vrand’s back to hug Aysel and Roxy goodbye, and looked up just as Rhona and Ernak reached them. “Everything’s packed away and tied down,” he said. “We can get airborne whenever you’re ready.”

“Right.” Rhona made her farewells, politely refusing the offered hugs, and climbed up to attach her safety lines to Vrand’s harness. “Keep in mind what we said about finding a proper teacher, Roxy,” she called down. “Have you still got that address?” Roxy patted one of her pockets. “Good.”

Calburn climbed up after her. “No sense putting it off much longer,” he said. “No telling what kind of weather we could run into aloft, so I want to make good time. Athi, did you work out how-”

“They’re sending a salvage team out for Longstride,” she assured him, folding her arms. “Should be able to reforge her with the right tools.”

“Great.” He donned his flying helmet, rescued from the Charek camp by Ernak. “Then this is goodbye,” he said. “Thanks for having us, and look us up if any of you are ever in Stormhaven!”

Vrand reared up and spread his wings. Some of the band ran to secure their tents against the draught as he took flight, but most held firm and waved goodbye until they were out of sight.

“Back to the mine, then,” said Calburn over the wind. “You can tell if your dust lung treatment’s been holding up.”

“And your pit ponies, too,” said Rhona. “But after this, I don’t want to sign up for any more jobs abroad for at least a year.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Vrand flew onwards, riding the wind high above the Hawk Steppes. After hours, the dark blot of the mine buildings appeared on the green-and-brown sheet of the grasslands, and a speck at the edge of the compound resolved into Overseer Kedran.

“Is our Charek problem solved?” she asked as Vrand landed again.

“I think so,” said Calburn. “For a while, at least – until somebody tries this again.”

“Good.” She waved a hand towards the mine shaft, fenced off and covered in scaffolding. “We’ve been trying to reconstruct the headframe ever since you two left, but I think we need your big construct to make more progress until some proper cranes arrive. And a couple of the miners haven’t been responding properly to your dust lung potion,” she added to Rhona.

Rhona sighed and slid down Vrand’s side to the dry ground. “Very well,” she said as Calburn began to pass supplies down to her. “Let’s get back to work.”

~~~

When Zar said he would have the heads of the ones responsible, he really wasn’t speaking figuratively. The sword he’s been carrying around is not a purely ceremonial one.

Fun fact: ‘Roxana’ is a feminine form of the Persian name ‘Roshan’, meaning (more or less) ‘light’. Make of that what you will...

#az writes stories

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ryukogo · 8 years ago

Text

nature walk

Summary: Kevin Stoley goes missing. Esther Stoley almost commits murder.

Prompt: Forest - The forest can make for a lovely walk, provided your muse enjoys the outdoors. Some of us can’t stand the risk of poison ivy, various unknown bugs, and thorns ready to snag you. Does your muse like to stomp right through the danger and laugh through the itching and bleeding later? Or do they wish they’d just stayed home and hidden in their room like they really wanted to deep down? Are they internally deciding if they still love their companion(s) enough to suffer through it? What if they get lost?

Words: 3708

Link is in the title if you wish to read it on AO3!

If anyone asked, it had been the teacher’s idea, sending their class out into the forest for a nature walk on a whim. None of them had wanted to go on the nature walk - some kids, like Rebecca Cotswolds, had been eagerly anticipating cat dissection that day, only to be told that the teacher had decided to spontaneously declare that they would be going on a nature walk.

(If you asked some of them, they’d say the teacher’s brain had spontaneously exploded after the most recent South Park dilemma, which had involved walking tuna with hairy human legs and a tuna takeover, but that is a story for another day.)

The biology class (which was the only class, coincidentally, that all six core members of Craig’s gang shared) was a rather small group of fifteen, comprising of Craig’s group - Craig, Clyde, Tweek, Token, Jimmy, and Kevin - , Stan, Kenny, Kyle, Bebe, Sally Turner (or as she was nicknamed, Powder), Lola, Jenny, Butters, and Milly. Everyone had been paired off in a buddy system, but despite that, most of them had separated into smaller groups, Craig’s gang together, Stan’s gang together, and the girls all together.

Which, inevitably, was trouble.

Craig knew this; Stan’s gang all together was a disaster waiting to happen, but a part of him was thankful that Cartman was back in school taking a test with the English class he shared with Wendy. The damage would most likely be significantly less ‘World War III’ and more ‘exploding squirrels’.

“Craig?”

The boy looked down at his buddy, his boyfriend Tweek, who peered up at him curiously through light colored lashes. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” was Craig’s reflex reply, and Tweek’s cheeks turned pink as he headbutted the taller boy’s arm lightly, making him laugh. “Alright, you caught me. I was thinking about how great it was not to have this class with Cartman.”

Tweek visibly shuddered, a wave wracking his whole body, making Clyde, Token, Jimmy, and Kevin stare at him. The girls were a little farther ahead with the teacher and Stan’s group, which meant they were the only ones witness to the little episode. “Gah, d-don’t think about him! It’s like jinxing it!”

“Jinxing what?” Clyde asked, dragging his buddy Kevin along with him by the hand. The Chinese-American could only watch helplessly as his heels skidded across the muddy forest floor, wincing at the thought of his sister Esther chewing him out for it later on.

“Gh-! Craig was thinking about how g-great it was not to have Cartman here in this class!”

“Aw, dude, that is like jinxing it. Don’t think about the ol’ fatass,” Clyde let go of Kevin’s hand to waggle his finger in front of Craig’s face. “For all we know, he has cameras here and he’s gonna set the whole forest ablaze.”

“Now you’re jinxing it!” Tweek exclaimed, eyes wide. “G-gah, what if we get caught in a forest fire?!”

“We’re not going to get caught in a forest fire,” Token stressed, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose as Jimmy hobbled closer to them, carefully maneuvering around a large rock in his path. “Clyde’s being paranoid.”

Clyde whirled around, pointing an accusing finger at Token. “Paranoid? We’ll see who’s paranoid after we all get turned into the next Kentucky Fried Chicken specials! We’re gonna be toasted, we’re not even gonna be the perfect s’mores!”

“GAH!” Tweek tugged at his hair frantically. “I-I don’t wanna be here anymore, can we go back, Craig?!”

“It’s going to be okay, I’m here,” Craig soothed, pressing a kiss to one of Tweek’s temples before swiftly delivering a kick to Clyde’s shin, the impact making the brunet yelp and ram headfirst into a nearby tree, startling birds into flying out of its branches. The commotion made the rest of the party - save for the teacher - all stop and look back at Craig, shaking his head at Clyde, who was rubbing his head ruefully.

“What was that for?!” Clyde demanded.

“Stop scaring Tweek, dumbass,” Craig told him. “We’re just on a nature walk, not camping. We’ll be home before class ends.”

“Thank God for two hour biology,” Token muttered under his breath.

Clyde outstretched his arms. “I’m just saying, Cartman could be looking in on us! I wouldn’t put it past him!”

“You’re just saying that because you’re still sore he knocked you out of the tree house.”

“That was in fourth grade-”

As Craig and Clyde continued to argue, Tweek clinging to Craig and trying to get him to stop while Jimmy and Token tried to get Clyde to stop, Kevin thought he heard some nearby bushes rustle, and with a curious look, he looked around, stepping away quietly from his friends to check out the surrounding bushes.

At first glance, there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. Still the same old bushes, same old trees, same old everything. It still looked like the forest, and with a disappointed sigh, Kevin nearly turned around again-

Wait, what was that?

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something shiny, and, turning around once more, he approached it, and picked it up. It was a pretty little stone, its color reminding Kevin of pearls, but tainted with reds and oranges, and for a few moments, he thought the thing might have actually been beating in the palm of his hand, like a heart. But it was probably a hallucination, since it was warm.

A few moments later, the feeling died down, and with a look of relief, Kevin turned to pocket it and head back for his friends-

His foot met a pitfall, and with little more than a yelp, he fell.

But he didn’t hit the bottom of the pit.

-=-=-=-

“- and for the last time, you don’t feed guinea pigs ground meat, especially when it’s come from tacos and already drizzled in whatever bullshit sauce you picked out!”

“What if they like it?!”

“I’m not letting your grubby mitts get anywhere near my Stripe ever again if you insist on this stupid idea-”

“Aw, come on, Craig, you never know-”

“I think I’d know my own fucking guinea pig thank you very much-”

“... Uh, g-guys?” Jimmy tried.

The two turned their heads around to look at Jimmy so fast that he thought they might get whiplash. “What?!”

“H-huh-has...” Jimmy looked around. “A-anyone seen Kuh-K-K-Kevin?”

Tweek blinked, looking around, and with a startled yelp, realized a terrifying thought. “GAH! He’s m-m-missing!”

“Kev?” Clyde’s voice was small as he realized that he had broken the first rule of the buddy system; never lose track of your buddy. “Kev, buddy- this isn’t- this isn’t funny, my dude-”

Token turned around, seeing nobody behind them, and only the girls and Stan’s gang in front of them, and with a feeling of dread in his stomach, raised his voice to call out, “Kevin! Kevin, where are you?”

“Kuh-K-Keeeeviiiin!” Jimmy called out in the other direction, attracting the attention of the others - and yet again failing to catch the attention of the negligent teacher. With curious looks, the other group approached Craig’s gang as most of them began calling out for their missing member.

Stan tilted his head to the side. “Guys, what’s wrong?”

“You look like hell,” Kenny commented to Clyde, whose face was slowly transitioning into a look that consisted only of full-fledged panic.

“Keeeeeviiiiin!” Token yelled out again.

That made the newcomers focus on the fact that there was a missing presence in the area. With a horrified gasp, Jenny and Lola looked at each other, and both of them whispered in terror, “Oh no.”

“Wait- you guys lost Kevin?” Bebe’s face was unreadable as she crossed her arms, eyeing all five of the remaining members of Craig’s gang.

“M-Maybe he just went back home, or wandered off a little! He can’t be far!” Powder tried to reassure.

Kyle groaned before yelling as loudly as he could, “KEVIN, WHERE ARE YOU, GODDAMMIT?!”, startling a lot of birds into flying out of the trees, taking off into the sky.

“There’s no way he didn’t hear that,” Stan grumbled, having been standing right next to Kyle when he had yelled.

They waited a few moments, but there was no answer.

A few moments later, Craig swore. Loudly.

“Nichole is going to fucking kill us.”

Lola shook her head. “Nichole might be strangling just you guys, but Esther? She’s going to commit genocide.”

Everyone visibly swallowed at the thought.

Around ten minutes later, the group had returned without the teacher - said teacher had plumb forgotten that they were maintaining a class and had gone back to school without them minutes before. A teacher in charge thought they had skipped school, and had given them detention. Of course, they were all dismayed, but then a chilling thought occurred to them.

Detention was going to be nothing compared to Nichole and Esther’s reactions.

-=-=-=-

“You did WHAT?!”

Esther’s screech rattled the windows of the school as she lunged at Clyde, everyone standing next to him scrambling to get away as she grabbed at his collar, livid. “YOU LEFT MY BROTHER IN THE FOREST?! HOW DUMB ARE YOU?!“

“I-I-”

“It wasn’t his fault-” Token began, only to back up into the nearest locker as Nichole turned a poisonous glare on him, making him swallow harshly. It was jarring to see such a look on the normally sweet, kind-natured girl’s face, but her boyfriend thought it rather ironically appropriate - Nichole was undecided on whether she would be studying horticulture or mycology, and thus was trying out both in the meantime, which meant she was caring for some rather dangerous fungi amidst all of her flowers.

“You are going to get my brother back, or so help me-” Esther pointed at each of the members of Craig’s gang before pinning Clyde by the neck to the floor. “Taco Boy here dies. I don’t care if Bebe’s going to fucking marry him, he’s dead if my brother isn’t home by sundown.”

“Esther, let go of him-” Craig took a step forward only to take two more steps backward at Esther’s shrill “STAY BACK!”, hopping back on one foot to avoid her wrath. He then tried again. “Esther, seriously, this isn’t going to help one bit-”

"Esther?”

And then, something rather strange happened.

Bradley Biggle, having noticed the commotion, had informed his sister that he’d be going home later so she could go and talk to the other Goth kids if she wanted (Henrietta had scoffed at his words, but had turned towards the back of the school anyway), and had headed in the direction of the shouting, stumbling upon this scene: Clyde, choking as Esther had his throat in a vice grip, Craig and Tweek, standing a little far off but close enough to intervene, and Jimmy and Token, wilting at Nichole’s death glare.

With a sigh, Bradley walked over, despite the warnings from the others, and promptly grabbed Esther by the waist and lifted her up effortlessly, channeling his mint and berry alien heritage into lifting her up and not letting go. In her surprise, Esther had let go of Clyde, who wheezed and rolled over, trying to regain the oxygen he had lost.

“Sometimes, I forget that Bradley’s an alien,” Craig muttered. “God, isn’t anyone normal in this stupid town?”

“What’s happening, anyway?” Bradley asked them as he tightened his hold on Esther, the girl finally realizing what had happened, and now consequently trying to break away. “Why is Esther so riled up? And where’s Kevin?”

“Huh-h-he got lost during a nature walk in buh-b-b-buh-biology,” Jimmy explained. “Esther started her juh-g-genocide with Clyde.”

Bradley blinked before his mouth dropped open in an ‘o’ of realization. “Oh. Now I get it. But wait, wasn’t your biology class an hour ago? He’s still lost?”

“Unfortunately,” Nichole sighed, crossing her arms. “I’m so worried for him. What if he’s hurt and lost out there?”

“I could help you guys look for him, if you want?” Bradley offered. “I can fly and look up from above. I’d have an aerial view of the forest while you guys searched.”

Tweek nodded. “T-that’s a good idea, actually. We should’ve gone to you f-first, shit.”

“They shouldn’t have lost track of my brother in the first place-”

"Shoosh,” Bradley papped her face gently with a palm before saying, “Look, why don’t we all just go out to the forest now? School’s out, and it’s still an hour or so before sundown. We can find him if we head out now.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Token agreed.

“You guys will be careful, right?” Nichole turned to him, all former traces of her anger gone and replaced now only with worry and anxiety. “Bring back Kevin before Esther commits genocide, hopefully safe and sound.”

Token nodded gently and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll be careful. Will you stay with Esther for us?”

“What?! You’re not letting me go look for my own brother?!” Esther exclaimed indignantly.

“Honestly? You’re a wreck right now and if we lost both Stoleys everyone would get their asses kicked,” Craig intoned. “So no. You’re staying.”

“Listen, Tucker-”

“No, he’s right,” Bradley turned her around to face him. “Essie, you gotta stay behind. We’ll bring Kev back, I promise. Just stay here with Nichole and we’re gonna find him before sundown. I swear.”

Esther was quiet for a moment. “... You swear?”

“On my mint and berry crunchiness, I swear,” Bradley grinned at her, and somehow, this seemed to reassure her, her form relaxing. Sensing her relaxation, he let her go, and turned to hold up a hand to Clyde. “Come on, guys. We have a buddy to hunt.”

-=-=-=-

“KEEEVIIIIN!”

“Keviiiin?”

“Keviiin, buddy, come on out!”

“Kuh-K-K-Keeeviiiin?”

“Kevin, where are you, d-dude?!”

“Kevin?” Bradley lifted up a boulder, and out came a snake. With a yelp, he dropped the boulder back down on the floor. “Not Kevin!”

“Kevin?” Token peered into a fallen tree trunk before sighing. “Nope.”

“Keviiiin?” Clyde poked his head into a particularly large clump of bushes, and got a face full of squirrel tail in response. Gagging, he drew back. “Not Kevin, blah.”

Tweek, on Craig’s shoulders, peered into a large hole in a tree, big enough to fit an average teenager. “Kevin’s not hiding out here either.”

“Where could he be?” Token worried, brushing off some leaves on his sweater. “It’s almost sundown...”

Bradley shrugged, but just then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something glowing faintly from his seat on one of a tree’s branches. Narrowing his eyes, he looked closer. “... Hey, wait a second. I see something.”

“Kevin, hopefully,” Craig said, letting Tweek down.

Bradley shook his head, and with a gentle descent, floated over to where he had seen it, the others following him, until they came across what looked to be a pitfall, where there was a pink glow emanating from within it. “A pitfall?”

“What’s m-muh-making it glow?” Jimmy wondered.

“I don’t know, but... it feels kind of familiar...” With a frown, Bradley signaled that he’d be going down the pitfall, and with only a rustling of the leaves, descended into the pitfall. It took about one minute before his voice came echoing out, screaming bloody murder.

The others’ eyes widened as Bradley practically zoomed out of the hole, nearly creating a sonic boom at the speed he had barreled out of the hole. When the dust cleared, they saw that he was clutching-

“Oh God,” Tweek wheezed.

Kevin.

With little more than a slight tapping of his heel, Bradley took off with Kevin in his arms, the others scrambling to get back to town after them. Something wet hit Token’s cheek on the way, but he attributed it to the tears in Bradley’s eyes. Once they made it out of the forest, they saw Bradley laying Kevin down on the lawn in front of the school, Esther and Nichole hurrying over, and it was then that they saw what had happened to their friend.

A thick branch, driven through one of Kevin’s thighs. Kevin looked unconscious, thankfully enough, but the blood that was seeping into the grass was terrifying to look at.

At the sight of Kevin, Nichole immediately dialed the hospital as Esther’s eyes grew wide with horror, sinking to her knees. In minutes, there was a stretcher, and Kevin had been taken to the hospital, leaving the others to stand around, unsure of what to do. Bradley’s hands were shaking, his palms covered in smeared blood. Nichole looked at Token, and with a half-choked sound, raised her hand up to wipe off something from Token’s cheek, revealing it to him to be blood. Token looked like he wanted to vomit.

“I-” They looked at Bradley. “I found this- Kevin was holding it when I found it and it seemed to- it doesn’t feel like a regular stone.”

He held out the stone that had led to Kevin’s downfall, and Craig asked, “What do you mean, it doesn’t feel like a regular stone?”

“It feels alien,” Bradley mumbled. “It feels alive, or rather it felt alive when I first got a hold of it, but when I- when I removed Kevin from the pitfall, it seemed to have died, like it was spent or exhausted or something.”

“Kevin could not have survived bleeding out that long,” Nichole whispered. “Pete told me how long a human can last with wounds like that. There’s no way he’s still alive in that ambulance anymore.”

“No, he- he probably still is, Nic,” Bradley turned to face her. “I think this little thing- whatever it is, it must have helped in keeping him alive. I have this strong feeling that it did. I- Kevin’s probably gonna make it.”

“Talk about an actual deus ex machina,” Craig grumbled, but inside, he was relieved that Kevin wouldn’t die. “Fuck, though. That’s still a probably. We should- we should go after him.”

Esther keeled over, finally passing out from shock.

“... right after we deal with Esther.”

-=-=-=-

After delivering Esther to her house, the others went to the hospital to check on Kevin, and it was there that they were led to a room, where Kevin was sound asleep, but looking well, though it was terrifying how pale he looked. When Token asked the nurse watching him, they were informed that he had nearly died from blood loss on the operating table once the branch had been removed, but it had been remedied as quickly as they could. He would be knocked out for a few more days because of the blood loss, but, barring any complications, he would be alright.

Everyone had breathed a sigh of relief at that.

The next school day, everyone had been informed of the predicament, and, predictably, Red Tucker had flown out of the school and barreled towards the hospital, the rest of the student body that cared about Kevin right on her heels. It was quite a sight, seeing Red tear down all the nurses to get to her best friend, but heartbreaking, because the moment she saw how fragile he looked she actually burst into tears, cursing the forest and the pitfall.

She didn’t leave his side for the rest of his stay in the hospital.

-=-=-=-

“...”

Kevin’s eyes fluttered slightly, and, with a small yawn, he opened his eyes to the white walls of his hospital room. With a blink, he looked around, surprised that he was in the hospital, but when he attempted to move his right leg, he was immediately reminded of why. Ah. That... branch. And... Bradley found me... right? He closed his eyes, trying to recall the blurry image of his blond haired savior. Yeah... the others... they found me too, and... okay...

He was thankful he was alive. The pain had been excruciating, but shock had stopped him from screaming out loud, and blood loss had knocked him out promptly. It was a mess he didn’t want to relive.

A snore alerted him to the presence of someone else in the room, but it took a while for him to figure out that it had been Red, who had fallen asleep, her head resting on her arms on the side of his bed, snoring quietly, one of her hands close to one of Kevin’s. The moment he saw her, with a tender smile, he strained himself a little to gently brush the tips of his fingers against Red’s, trying to wake her up.

The slight movement made her rouse from sleep, and with a yawn, she straightened up, only to freeze at the sight of Kevin’s hazel eyes staring at her, a hesitant but genuine smile on his face.

“Good morning,” Kevin told her quietly.

“Kev,” Red sounded breathless. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” For some reason, he also sounded breathless. “And you’re... here. How long was I-”

“Three days,” Red told him immediately before she took careful hold of the hand closest to her and held it to her face, feeling that yes, he was awake, and here. “Jesus, Kev- when the guys told us you were in the hospital I thought-”

“You think too much, young Padawan,” Kevin laughed.

Red stuck out her tongue before sighing. “I just- I’m glad you’re awake, Kev. I- I really am.”

“Missed me?”

“You know it, doofus.”

With a laugh, Kevin tucked a lock of hair behind Red’s ear, and for a few moments, they only looked at each other, smiling, until Esther burst in, saying, “I swear to God, you guys, if you stop me from seeing my own-”

She stopped at the sight of Red and Kevin.

“Hey, Es,” Kevin waved weakly with his other hand.

Esther dropped her phone, but this didn’t matter to her as she screamed and nearly suffocated Kevin as she threw herself at him, hugging him senseless. Everyone else who had been outside stumbled in, and yelped in surprise at the sight of the awake Kevin, surrounding him and effectively blocking Red from him, delighted that he was awake.

Red just rolled her eyes, though, and took a seat on the chair a little farther away from the commotion. She’d talk to Kevin later.

At least he was safe.

#south park #kevin stoley #craig tucker #tweek tweak #clyde donovan #token black #jimmy valmer #nichole daniels #esther stoley #spdrabblebomb #classo's fanfics

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