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taechaos · 4 years ago

Text

New Idea

pairing: Step-brother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

warnings: non-con, bondage, pseudo-incest, sadism, smut, mentions of killing

synopsis: You wished to hang out with your brother Taehyung when he wasn't home, only to realize he was better off staying away.

word count: 3.2k

It was late at night. Rain flooded outside, drops trickled down your window and puddles formed on the roads as they reflected the neon lit storefront signs beautifully. The tears from the clouds splashed against the cement loudly, and you watched the empty streets in boredom. With your cheek leaning on your palm, elbow propped up on the round wooden table across your window, you miserably yearned to feel some sort of sugar rush with a deep frown on your face. Things have been mundane, repeating the same old routines as days quickly went by. You wondered what Taehyung had been up to in the time that he’d been gone. You knew he could resolve your boredom instantly had he been right beside you.

Taehyung – your step-brother who was the embodiment of adrenaline, and was most likely awake with you right now. The man never slept, always staying up at night brainstorming ideas for what to do during the day that was no doubt just as exciting as the day before. Bags adorned his eyes that somehow fit his wild persona that never needed asking for permission to do things that were illegal most of the time. It was especially daring when having strict parents, and the only reason he wasn’t locked up in a mental institution was because he was the pride of your family with excelling grades in college that he rarely ever attended. They never approved of anything he’d done, especially not the teal hair he was currently rocking. You on the other hand, looked up to him as a role model.

What you’d do to see him right now. Sometimes he tagged you along with his adventures, such as exploring abandoned buildings and getting matching tattoos on your forearms that he chose. Despite the rebellious acts he put you through, he always defended you against your parents and got away with everything with a light scolding from his smooth tongue. Admiration wouldn’t begin to describe the amount of respect you had for him, though he was rarely ever around. Unbeknownst to you however, he never failed to go a day without pecking your cheek while you were unconscious.

He was everything you aspired to be: a carefree soul with a creative mind and a heart filled with exhilaration. The only thing he hadn’t done was probably murder. It was a shame that absence made the heart grow fonder, because throughout the time you’d known him since your early teens, he hadn’t changed one bit with his disappearances that could go on for days.

Taehyung never changed.

Was this what they called depression? Feeling numb and hating your life for how ordinary it was? You didn’t know, but what you knew was that you really needed Taehyung right now. It was 3AM and your parents were sound asleep in the apartment while you moped over how much you missed your step-brother’s presence. Not a single moment was dull with him, while you were too much of a coward to go through with any of your desires.

And as if your prayers were answered, a pound came on the door. The loud knock instantly gave away the person behind the door; Taehyung, who never cared for how loud he was unless he was on a stealthy mission.

Your heart skipped a beat as the door swung open and the silhouette of your step-brother entered before it was slammed shut with a lock. “You’re awake?” he asked in a whisper without moving an inch when he noticed your seated form.

“Can’t sleep,” you breathed, unable to hide the joy you felt upon seeing him in your tone. He couldn’t have picked a better time to visit you.

“Why not?” he walked over to you before kneeling. There was a smile on his face that matched yours, instantly giving away he came to your room with purpose. It was expected, for he never approached you if not to tell you about one of his newer ideas.

“Was bored.”

“So was I,” a mischievous smirk graced his face. The street lights outside illuminated his messy hair that your hand itched to ruffle. “But I found us a solution.”

Your eyes gleamed with hope, your grin never faltering. “Tell me,” you impatiently urged, your knees already bouncing up and down with excitement.

“I’ll give you a hint: we’ll both be having fun. But you need to listen to me,” he cautioned with a raised finger. You nodded frantically, willing to do whatever he needed you to do. “Okay, stand up.”

You obeyed him and only then noticed the bag slung over his shoulder once you stood before him. “Let me do all the work, yeah? You just stand still.”

“I really want to know what it is,” you whined and bounced on your feet.

Taehyung held onto your tits that bounced with you and you quietly gasped. “Better not be acting like this with anyone other than me. Naughty,” he scolded before unzipping his small pouch.

“I don’t go out without a bra,” you rolled your eyes playfully. Taehyung was notorious for doing and saying things without a filter, uncaring of the effect it had on others. This was simply him looking after you without any boundaries, because he never set any with you.

He pulled out a duct tape from the mystery bag. “Turn around and hold your hands behind you.” You complied without protest, the ripping of a duct tape resounding in the room as he tore it with his teeth. He taped your wrists together like cuffs before facing you again by the pull of your shoulder.

Confusion washed over you, but not a trace of fear. “What’s this about?”

“Now go lie down,” he ignored you and nodded at your bed. You sat on the center, your sheets already rumpled from all the tossing and turning you’d done in an attempt to sleep. His figure loomed over you and your heart raced in anticipation. “Don’t move, okay?”

You silently watched him with piqued curiosity as he pushed you down. The soft mattress dipped under your weight and you didn’t move a muscle until you felt him tug at your flannel pajama pants. “Taehyung? What are you doing?”

“Just trust me,” he ignored you again and you furrowed your brows as he undressed you. “You’re going to like it.”

Without a single clue of his intentions, you expected him to change your pants after he took them off, but definitely didn’t expect him to aim at your panties next. The second he held onto the hems, you crawled away from him and repeated more firmly, “Taehyung, what are you doing?”

He yanked you back to him by your ankles. “Don’t you trust me? You said you’d listen to me.”

“I don’t think I want to do this,” you strained and tried to pull your knees to your chest, but he tightened his grip on your ankles.

“It’ll be fun, just sit still,” he spoke airily, his tone unbothered compared to your worried one. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Once you felt somewhat reassured, you relaxed your legs and lied back down. The discomfort swallowed you whole when he undressed your bottom half completely. The chilly air hit your bare legs and left goosebumps in its wake.

“You shouldn’t be shy about being naked with me,” he chuckled and tapped your pussy carelessly. You yelped and bent your knees again.

“Taehyung, this isn’t right,” you stressed and clenched your thighs together. You were growing wary about this ‘idea’ and you weren’t sure whether his pupils were dilated because of the dark anymore. He could be high. “Let’s try something else, please.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he scoffed and spread your thighs apart, hovering over your loins. “You’re going to love this, just calm it.” He grabbed the duct tape again and tore off a smaller piece before placing it on your mouth, making your efforts of leaning away fruitless. Your voice was muffled behind the sticky tape as you shook your head. “Don’t make me tape your legs too,” he warned as you tried pushing him away. He sat on your knees as he began unzipping his washed denim jeans, ignoring your babbling.

“Been watching a lot of porn lately,” he began casually as tears brimmed in your eyes. “I usually find it boring, but I came across a video that I couldn’t resist reenacting. Plus you were bored too,” he defended, “it’d be mean if I spared my little sister of this fun.”

You didn’t know whether he was joking or not, but you were ready to start crying if he was actually doing what you were thinking. You sighed in relief when he reached for his pouch for a pair of scissors. It had to be a joke then–

Taehyung began cutting your shirt from the middle, and you whimpered when your tits were on full display. Your nipples hardened as a result of the exposure, and tears immediately began streaming down your face mixed with muffled sobs.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” he exclaimed, “we’re not related by blood. It should be fine.”

When you continued crying, he said, “I’ll take off my shirt too, if it helps.” He heaved his t-shirt over his head, his firm chest hard to make out in the midnight dark. “I was thinking kissing would ease you into it, but only if you’re quiet.” Your cries grew louder instead. He sighed exasperatedly, “You can be such a crybaby sometimes.”

He started leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck, and you whimpered at the feeling. You were ticklish and though you were completely terrified, the kisses were a bit soothing. “This is me being nice to you, because oh boy, that guy in the video was a fucking monster,” he laughed while going down the valley between your breasts. A finger flicked your nipple while his other hand rubbed over your folds. “Want me to eat you out first? You’re not wet enough.”

You shook your head in refusal, so he merely shrugged and began circling your clit instead, his fingers now pinching your nipple. His mouth latched onto your other nipple and he swirled his tongue around the areola, clashing pleasure with pain. The rain drowned out your involuntary moans but Taehyung caught them anyway; it wasn’t hard to miss when your arousal began coating his hand. He released your nipple with a pop and locked eyes with you. “You’re enjoying this? Not gonna lie, I was expecting you to cry longer but... you're a little slutty, aren't you?” He slapped your pussy experimentally and smiled when you moaned loudly. “Keep this up and I might just take off the tape.”

For a moment, he wondered if this was why people enjoyed sex so much; your moans were like music to his ears and your body was making his cock throb even more. He could really get used to this, he thought as he slapped your pussy over and over, the sound echoing in the room along with your high-pitched whines.

“Shit, I need to record this,” he mumbled before reaching for his phone on his back pocket. Your protests went to deaf ears as he began recording your pussy and spanked it, the microphone picking up all your sounds of pleasure. Once it reached the one-minute mark, he threw his phone on your pillow and took out his erect length from its restraints, giving it a few pumps as the tip oozed with pre-cum. “I never thought fucking you would be this easy. Thought about it every time I touched myself.”

You went quiet at the revelation and he smirked at your raised brows. “Why are you surprised? Whenever I’m home, you come hug me with your bare tits pressed up against me. Not that I’m complaining of course,” he chuckled hotly. “Want me to kiss you now?”

When you didn’t respond quickly enough, he ripped the tape off of your mouth without mercy and your eyes teared up at the pain with an ouch. He didn’t waste a second in enveloping his lips with yours as he cupped your pussy, smearing his pre-cum on your labia. He swallowed your moans as his mouth moved vigorously, tongue meeting yours as he explored your cavern. The smacking of your lips caused you to clench your hole, the sound arousing to your ears as you kissed him back.

“You going to stay quiet for me?” he murmured against your lips, his cock poking at your hole teasingly. You hesitated but nodded nonetheless. “Good girl,” he praised with a grin and lightly pecked you before properly positioning himself.

The reason why Taehyung was so eager to have sex with you wasn’t just because he was horny, but also because really wanted it to be your pussy that he fucked first, and maybe second, and third. He was a virgin who watched too much porn when he wasn’t outside, and now that you were 18, he thought it to be the perfect timing for you to lose your virginity to him like he’d imagined when he was 15.

Due to his experience, he didn’t ease into your pussy and instead shoved his cock entirely. You screamed and he instantly put a hand over your mouth. “Too much?” he asked with a strained voice. His cock was just begging to be thrusted into you, but he couldn’t have you screaming and waking your parents. When you nodded with eyes shut in pain, he groaned to himself. He was twitching inside you, and after a few seconds, he began moving.

You were crying and bitching again, but he paid no mind to it as he pressed his hand onto your mouth while gently slamming his hips into you, his courtesy for now. You'd adjust sooner or later, but the stretch was excruciating; your walls stung and you started to bleed on him.

"Oh fuck," he giggled sadistically once he noticed the crimson fluid, "that didn't happen in the video." He gazed into your glossy eyes before quickening his pace, growing rougher. "You're crying again; what's new?"

Taehyung was laughing as he was moaning, but you couldn’t hear anything except for the ringing in your ears. Your heart pounded and you were struggling to breathe through your nose as he fucked you relentlessly.

“I kind of feel bad for you,” he panted with a sinister smile. “Does it still hurt?” He took your sobs as a yes. “Poor baby,” he cooed with a pout before moving his free hand to your clit. “This might help.” You were struggling with your bound hands, but you couldn’t move your legs because of how much it hurt. Your fighting was useless, and your body was growing numb except for the thumb that made it less painful.

Taehyung removed his hand from your mouth to hear your moans clearly. Whether it was from pleasure or pain, he didn’t know, but he loved it. He wanted to be the only one to see you in this state. He’d gauge out any eyes that got to see you naked and stab any ears that got to hear your pretty sounds.

But it was a little difficult to savour it when he was reaching his climax so soon; damn inexperience and the low stamina that came with. He had enough self-control to pull out of you to finish himself off with his hand. He missed the warmth and tightness of your pussy and how it kept clenching down on him quickly, but it had to come at a cost – not cumming inside you.

“You fucking monster!” you yelled hoarsely, eyes blurred with tears and face covered in tears.

“Too loud,” he sighed and forced your mouth open to shove his length inside. “Try anything, and I’ll fucking kill you.” His cock was heavy on your tongue as you gagged on it every time he thrusted. It wasn’t long before he released in your mouth and you choked, swallowing his cum without a choice. Another loud moan erupted from him as his hips stuttered while gently slamming into you for the last time.

“Fuck,” he exhaled before collapsing on you with his palms holding up to not smother you completely. “Shit, you’re such a good fucking girl.”

When he raised his face from your shoulder, you spat on him. He laughed hysterically before wiping off your saliva from his cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, damn.”

“You’re the fucking worst Taehyung,” your voice wavered as you insulted him. “I hope you rot in hell. I always saw you as my role model, but now I understand why everyone fucking hates you.”

“Sheesh,” he snorted, “I told you I’d make it up to you, didn’t I? It might hurt now, but it’ll feel a lot better when we do it again.”

“If you try-” he cut you off by going down on you, taking his clit into your mouth and immediately emitting a moan out of you. “Stop, stop, stop,” you chanted in gasps, trapping his head with your thighs and contradicting your words. He chuckled against your swollen pussy, making it feel even better and yet worse. This euphoric sensation wasn’t what you needed after being traumatized by your own step-brother, but it was what your body wanted after getting a taste of his tongue.

He was slurping up your juices and spitting on your folds before abusing your clit again. The bastard knew how to distract you from your newfound grudge, but you weren’t going to forgive him after your orgasm. Your hips moved against him on instinct as his tongue ran up and down your labia. A knot formed in your stomach, your tears long forgotten as you became more persistent in riding him in this awkward position. He heaved your thighs over his shoulder to take full control, and with his vigorous sucking and pulling, you came undone with a spasm.

“Feels good, right?” he asked rhetorically and fell limp next to you.

“I’ve never hated someone as much as you,” you seethed while recovering from your high.

“You’re going to tell me that wasn’t fun? No way,” he stared at you in disbelief.

“You hurt me,” you sniffled and covered your face.

"I'm sorry princess," the nickname felt foreign on his tongue as he held your arm. "I'll leave forever if you want me to."

He hummed when you stayed silent with a runny nose. "I'll clean you up and go, okay?"

"No," you huffed. "You become my slave for a whole month."

"You want me to stay home with you?"

You nodded while rubbing your eyes with your fists. "You can't do that and just leave, and I hate you but I miss you."

Taehyung resisted the urge to squeeze your cheek and coo. He knew you'd regret asking him to stay, but he wouldn't say no to spending time with you 24/7.

Chuckling through his nose, he said, "I miss you too." He traced the tattoo on your forearm, a minimalistic mockingbird with an arrow slicing through the middle. He picked it because it represented you; an innocent little thing who didn't even look down at her wound, only focused on flying back to Taehyung, a hawk that waited with open arms - ready for his meal.

If you wanted him to stay, then that's what Taehyung would do. You'd fallen for his trap twice, the third wouldn't be so bad. He'd make sure you enjoyed it this time.

#bts #kim taehyung #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #kth #thekpopnetwork #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios

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yikesharringrove · 3 years ago

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We’re Us

A little commishy for my bxtch @thinger-strang.

Read on Ao3

This shit is SOFT

“Dustin, we all saw that fireball hit you,” Will said accusatorily, gesturing to the red bean bag on the ground at Dustin’s feet.

“Okay, first of all, you’re supposed to call a pause of play before using my real name,” Dustin said, all in one breath. “And second of all, the fireball only hit my lute, therefore I sustained no physical damage.” Dustin gestured to the cereal box that was taped to a jump rope, slung over his shoulder like it was a prized instrument.

“No, it didn’t. We all saw it hit your shoulder. You’d lose that arm at least, and take probably, like, fifty damage points.” Lucas pretended to aim a bow and arrow at Dustin while he spoke.

Dustin was getting dangerously close to huffy territory.

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll take the stupid damage points. Can we resume play yet?”

Everyone nodded, and they fell right back into battle.

It wasn’t often they took the game off the DnD board, but the weather was perfect, summer beginning to make itself known a little earlier than usual, giving them April days that were clear and perfect and made for the best LARP sessions known to Indiana.

Will aimed a fireball at Max, and launched it right as she darted out of the way. It sailed past her, missing her left hand by less than an inch, and she laughed wildly, raising her pool noodle sword and aiming blow after blow at him.

The bean bag hit the fence and went spiraling awkwardly into the small alley between the house and the old wooden fence

It was Will’s last fireball, and he hurried to retrieve any he could reach, dodging as best as he could around Max��s wild sword-wielding.

She tended to wallop them as hard as she could, somehow knocking the wind out of them with her soft excuse for a sword.

Will scrambled to pick up his bean bag from the overgrown grass and curling weeds, catching his breath quickly in the alley where he couldn’t be seen.

And then a sound drew his attention away from the battle.

It was a soft sound. He wouldn’t have heard it if the rest of the party had been so quietly focused on battling one another less than twenty feet away.

But he did hear it, and his head whipped around to find the source of it.

Steve and Billy.

Against the house.

Kissing.

It was like time stood still.

Like Will had been hit by one of Mage El’s freezing bombs.

Steve had Billy pushed up against the side of the house, their bodies pressed flush together.

Steve was clearly propping up Billy with his body, Billy’s mobility cane, the one he had let them cover in stickers, was laying forgotten on the ground.

Billy’s arms were wrapped around Steve’s shoulders, his hands curled in the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt. Steve had his arms wrapped around Billy’s waist, half holding him close, half not letting him fall without his cane.

They were kissing like they were trying to devour one another, and Will realized that the sound he had heard was a moan.

It wasn’t like seeing Lucas and Max kiss, or Mike or El, or even Nancy and Jonathan.

Seeing Billy and Steve,

Will knew he shouldn’t be seeing them.

He knew this was wrong, and people said two boys kissing was foul and bad.

But this didn’t look anything but, well, loving.

The way Steve was making sure Billy didn’t fall while they kissed, the way sometimes they would pull back and smile, their faces never moving more than a few inches away from one another.

One of Billy’s rough hands left its place clawed in Steve’s t-shirt, reaching forward to brush one thumb clumsily down his cheek.

They pulled back from one another, smiling stupidly, still staring into each other’s eyes.

Billy brushed his thumb down Steve’s cheek again, and Steve moved like he was nuzzling into the touch, turning his head to the right, pressing a kiss to Billy’s rough, scarred palm.

It made Will feel like he was floating in space with nothing keeping him down.

Steve pressed a kiss to Billy’s cheek, then his nose, then his other cheek, and Billy’s cheeks flushed and he giggled, a sound that was so foreign to Billy Hargrove it almost made Will rub his eyes to make sure he was seeing the right person.

And Billy smiled, so calmly and easily.

It made his whole face change. He looked like a completely different person.

And Will realized, he’s never actually seen Billy smile like this.

The only times he’d come close, we tight tiny things that never reached his eyes and were dropped within a second or two.

This was a genuine smile, full of genuine happiness, and god -

They’re in love.

They’re two boys, and they’re standing right in front of Will and they’re in love.

They went back to kissing, moving their heads slowly side to side, their mouths opening and closing and Will was so aware of having never kissed anyone before.

“Will, seriously! I’ve been yelling for you-”

Mike stopped talking the second he rounded the house.

He was stalk still, his mouth hanging open like a dead fish at what he saw.

Will’s heart was thundering against his ribcage, and he tried to push Mike back towards the game, pleading quietly at him to move.

And then the rest of the group was joining them. Faces mirroring Mike’s dead fish expression as they stared, open-mouthed, at Steve and Billy.

Will had his back to them, but in the quiet, he could hear. He could hear the soft sounds and the moans, and even the giggles that made his face go hot and his stomach do a whole gymnastics routine inside of him.

Will was staring at each of his friends in turn, pleading with them to just turn right around, and continue on with play as nothing had ever interrupted their battle.

Like they haven’t just stumbled on a huge and dangerous secret.

He went as far as to push Lucas, gently shoving him backward saying go! Go! Under his breath.

The last thing he needed was for Steve and Billy to notice them here. To realize what they had seen. What they know.

And then-

“What the fuck?”

Billy and Steve broke apart, looking towards the entrance of the alley, and seeing all six of the party, staring at them.

Max had been the one to speak, and she was looking at Billy oddly, almost like she didn’t know who he was.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, her voice quavering slightly.

Billy looked like he wanted to ground to swallow him right up.

Steve scrambled for the forgotten cane, keeping one hand on Billy’s elbow as he crouched down.

The movement made Will’s stomach flop over.

It was practiced.

Once Billy was standing on his own with the cane, Steve approached the kids calmly, his hands raised up like they were all wild animals that might attack at any moment.

“Look, I know how this looks, and you guys can’t-”

“It looks like, you guys were making out .” Dustin’s tone was hollow, and he looked as struck dumb as the rest of them.

“I know, and I mean, yeah. We were, but you need to listen -”

“Steve.”

Steve whipped right around when he heard the murmur.

Billy was standing slumped over against the house, one scarred, shaking hand covering his face, the other clutched so tightly to his cane his knuckles were white.

“Bill, I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You’re okay.” Steve rushed to Billy’s side, holding onto his elbow again, brushing his fingers softly through Billy’s short hair, winding his fingers through the wild curls that were just long enough to form. “I’ll deal with this. It’s okay. They’re not going to tell.” Steve glared at the kids when he said that, as if daring them to argue.

Billy kinda, fell forward, leaning against Steve once again, his face going into Steve’s neck.

Steve didn’t react, still brushing his fingers through sandy blond curls.

“You all know what could happen to us if people found out?”

Nobody answered him.

Truth is, they did know.

They knew the stories about young men being beaten nearly to death. Being run out of town or put in the hospital over nothing but a rumor.

Being gay wasn’t something that was tolerated in Hawkins.

Hell, Will himself has been pushed around and called queer as long as he could remember.

Even by his own father.

“We won’t tell anyone.” Will felt like how Billy looked. Like he was shaking apart right in front of them. “I promise. We won’t. Not anyone.” He could barely get the words out. It was like his jaw had locked up with the rest of his bones.

He thinks it would kill him if anything happened to Billy and Steve over this. They needed to keep them safe.

He needed to keep them safe.

“Yeah. I promise,” El parroted. Steve beamed at them.

Will knew El had been very confused the first time she heard about Ryan Anderson, the high school sophomore that had been humiliated and beaten so badly his family had to leave town six years ago.

She didn’t understand how a boy that liked to kiss other boys was something that merited violence.

Hopper had surprised them all by saying that it didn’t, but some people felt like it did.

Who you kiss doesn’t matter as much as who you are. If you’re a good person, it’s all just extra fodder. But some people like to they’re better than anyone that’s different than they are.

El had called those people bad and that was the end of it.

“Billy, I won’t tell.” Max didn’t take her eyes off Billy while she spoke. “I swear. I’ll never tell anyone. Not even mom.”

Billy’s hand flexed on the handle of the cane, and his knees gave a wobble. Steve kept him upright, leaning over to murmur into his ear.

Will could just barely make out the words I’ve got you.

“I promise, too.” Dustin’s cereal box/lute was forgotten on the grass at his feet. “The party protects each other. It’s one of our laws.”

“Yeah, we stick together. This isn’t different.” Max gave Lucas a watery smile when he spoke up in turn.

Mike was quiet.

It was well-known how much he disliked both Steve and Billy.

All of the kids had some trouble trusting Billy after everything that had happened last summer. Billy didn’t seem to blame them. He kept to himself, even when he moved from his cold room in the military hospital into the Byers’ spare bedroom seven months ago, he was like a ghost moving through the house.

Only Steve could make him come out of his shell in those early days. Only Steve could make Billy join them for dinner and movie nights, take slow walks around the yard with his walker, and later with his cane. Only Steve could make Billy’s shoulders relax from their defensive position up around his ears, and now, it was finally dawning on everyone why.

The kids mostly left him alone, only Max and El bridging the gap and actually speaking to him. Max had been determined to see Billy through his recovery, glaring at him and watching like a ginger hawk while he did his physical therapy, practicing his grip and moving buttons from one bowl to another.

El would sometimes talk to Billy in a hushed voice. She would get him on his own and hush words like Papa and Mama and bad and Billy would have to retreat to his bedroom for slowly decreasing amounts of time.

Nobody but Joyce and Hopper knew what she saw in Billy’s head. They were just informed that he wouldn't be returning home after his two-month stint in the military hospital. Max hard clenched her jaw and nodded jerkily and nobody dared ask any further questions.

He and Will traded a lot of good mornings and tended to generally avoid eye contact when they came across one another in the house.

But none of them hated him, they were just a little weary.

Mike, on the other hand, had some unexplained vendetta against both Billy and Steve and Will found himself willing Mike to be kind in this moment. To not see this as some power over them, or something.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Dustin’s right. We protect each other.”

Steve gave them a smile that was so dazzling and bright, it almost gave off its own light.

His eyes were shining and he gave a watery laugh.

“They really meant it when they said children are the future.”

“Who said?” El asked him.

“I don’t know, actually. Just people, I guess.” Steve shrugged, jostling Billy who was still nestled in his shoulder. “Look, seriously guys, thank you. I can’t even imagine how I would’ve felt if-nevermind.” He cut himself off quickly, shaking his head. “It just means a lot. To both of us.” Steve smiled at them one last time, this time much softer and thoughtful. “You’re good kids.”

Nobody said anything else. They didn’t know what to say to Steve.

“I came back here to get my fireballs. I, uh, I got ‘em.”

Everyone looked back at Will, and, almost like they were coming out of a trance, began picking their makeshift weapons back off the grass, and chattering idly as they went back to the yard in order to continue their battle.

Will lingered for a second, looking over his shoulder at Steve and Billy, who were still wound together.

They were talking softly, and Will was pleased to see Billy lift his head back up, still looking pale and nervous, but smiling at Steve.

He leaned back down and planted a kiss on Steve’s neck, right above the edge of his t-shirt.

Will felt his face go hot, and tugged himself away, going back to the game.

It wasn’t until well after dinner, when everyone else had gone home, that they spoke about it again.

Will. Will! Do you copy? Over.

The static rasping of Mike’s voice through the walkie-talkie was coming from under Will’s bed where he had stashed it.

He quickly turned down the volume dial on the side before answering.

“Yeah, Mike. I copy. Over.”

“We need to talk about today,” Mike said through the walkie. “I mean, did you have any idea? Over.”

“No. I didn’t,” Will said, truthfully. Finding out had made a lot of things clunk into place, but that doesn’t mean Will knew. “Over.”

“It’s just, neither of them seem the type. You know? Over.”

Something about that statement didn’t sit too right with Will.

Before he could respond another voice crackled through the channel.

“This is gold leader joining the conversation to let Mike know he’s being a dick. Over.”

Will laughed. Trust Dustin to listen in on the conversation and come forward to defend Steve.

“Lucas, do you copy, too? Over.” Will waited a moment after he asked.

“Yeah, I copy. I wanted to hear what you all were saying first. I don’t really know what to think about all this. Over.”

“I don’t think there’s much to think about. Steve seems happy. Billy too, I guess. Over,” said Dustin.

Will’s heart swelled with a pride he didn’t quite understand at Dustin’s words.

Outside in the hall, the phone rang.

Will heard his mom scramble to pick it up, calling softly down the hall for Billy, and the unmistakable thumping of Billy and his cane coming to take the call.

He heard his mom scrape a chair over for him and retreat to her room, giving him some privacy.

“It’s just scary, you know? Like, something really bad could happen to them if anyone else found out.” Will thought for a second. “You think anyone else knows? Over.”

“Robin. She was making comments to Steve a few days ago about his secret relationship and I kept asking him about it until he punched me in the arm. She knows. Over.”

“I’m just confused,” Mike sighed down the line. “Steve dated my sister for like, a year. And Billy is always disgusting and flirting with my mom. Or at least, he would do that. You know, before. Over.”

“Yeah, that’s just Billy being Billy,” Max chimed in.

“You have to say over when you’re finished. Over.”

“ Fine, dickheads. Over.”

“That makes sense, but Steve and Nancy doesn’t. Over.”

“Lucas, it doesn’t have to make sense. David Bowie says he likes guys and girls. Billy has, like, three different magazines where he says that. Over.”

“Max is right. We don’t have to understand any of this. They seem happy, and good together, and that doesn’t really concern us. Over.” Will was hoping he could speed through the rest of this conversation. He could hear Billy in the hall, shifting and murmuring something Will couldn’t make out but was dying to overhear.

He had a feeling he knew who was calling.

“But, now it does concern us. We know. And as we’ve previously established, the more people that know, the more danger they could be in. Over .” Dustin almost sounded as though he might cry.

“Then, we can’t talk about it. Not unless we know for a fact that we aren’t going to be overheard. And maybe we should give them codenames. Only call them something like Han and Leia when there’s a chance of someone listening in. Over.”

“I like Lucas’s codename idea, but I’d rather die than call them Han and Leia. Over.”

“Okay, Mike, it was the first thing that came into my head! What, you think you have a better idea? Over.”

“I don’t know. Harold and Maude? Over.”

“That’s stupid, Mike. Clearly, they’re Bert and Ernie. Over.”

Will snorted at Max’s suggestion. He heard Billy coughing wildly in the hall. He listened carefully to him until it died down and he knew it wasn’t a bad one.

“I think we’ve come to an agreement. If we need further discussion, codenames: Bert and Ernie. Okay, my mom wants me to spend time with her tonight. So this is gold leader, signing off. Over and out.”

“I’m going too. Over and out,” Mike said.

“Over and out,” said El, not surprising any of them that she was listening in. She did that a lot. Simply listen to her own walkie, and when asked why she didn’t say anything would shrug and go nothing to add. They only asked that she sign off so that they knew she got whatever information they had discussed.

Everyone followed with their own sign-offs, and Will twisted the top knob on his walkie, shutting it off.

There was a moment of silence out in the hall, and then three beats on Will’s door.

He found Billy on the other side, slumped in the chair under the phone, his cheeks going red.

“Can’t get up,” he grunted. “Can’t reach the hook.”

Will didn’t say anything, nodding quickly and avoiding eye contact as he took the phone, placing it carefully back on the hook.

Billy got stuck in chairs fairly often.

His core muscles had been slashed up worse than anything else, and sometimes he just needed a good pull up.

Will took hold of his wrist, leaning his body weight backward to yank Billy to standing.

Billy kept his weight heavily on his cane, patting Will once on the upper arm in thanks.

“You guys know Steve has one of your little walkie-talkies, right?”

“ What ?”

Will genuinely didn’t know that.

“Dustin gave him one. I don’t know when, but he’s got it.”

“So, uh, so he heard. Everything.”

“And relayed it all to me through an embarrassing amount of tears, by the sounds of it.”

But Will could see that Billy’s eyes were brighter than usual in the dark, and suddenly Will remembered that there had been a wet spot on Billy’s sleeve.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I mean, well, you’re good kids. All of you.” Billy patted him on the shoulder again. “I was shitting myself out there when you found us. Thought for sure one a’ yous would go squealing.”

“Maybe we would’ve. Before.”

“Never thought I’d be grateful for nearly being turned inside-out.”

“And I never thought I’d be grateful for being found dead in the water, but here we are.”

“Yeah, shit’s pretty weird if you stop and think about it for a few minutes. Near-death experiences really put your sexuality in perspective.”

“Is that why you two started dating? Perspective?”

Billy huffed a breath, looking up towards the ceiling. He coughed twice, and Will could pretty much hear his lungs rattle and crackle.

“Yeah. ‘S why we started dating. Both of us kinda realized there’s no sense in feeling like shit about the things that can actually make you feel not like shit.”

“So, you’re in love? Both of you?”

Billy’s cheeks were flooded with color, the deep red spreading all the way back to the tips of his ears.

“I think so. We’re both a little too fucked in the head to say it, but,” he shrugged lamely, not bothering to finish his thought, and looking anywhere but at Will.

He gets it, though.

Fucked up parents make for fucked up kids.

Will considered himself the luckiest person on Earth, and any kinda parallel universe, that he had his mom to stop, and later heal, all the damage his dad had caused.

“Well, I’m glad that you have it. Both of you. I mean, we saw you guys. And after everything, it's good that you’re happy.” And Will meant it.

Even before last summer, he had never seen Billy look the way he did when he was kissing Steve. Look that calm, and relaxed, and that goddamn happy. It really meant something.

Especially to Will.

Because he had never thought of someone looking that happy when they kissed someone else.

He had never thought of a boy looking that happy when he kissed another boy.

Billy surveyed Will for a moment, still leaning heavily on his cane in the hallway.

Will had the suspicion that Billy could see right through him.

“He came to visit me a lot when I was in the hospital. Steve, I mean. I don’t know why he did. It’s not like we were friends or anything. But one of those days, when I was barely awake he started talking about everything that happened those couple days.” Billy shifted closer to the wall, bracing himself with one hand as he lowered himself back into the chair. “The Russians. I don’t know what he’s told you kids, but it wasn’t pretty.”

“He hasn’t said anything. I mean, we all saw how he looked after, so we figured maybe he got in a fight.”

Billy chewed on his bottom lip.

“Look, you gotta swear not to tell any of the others this, but, uh, it was a bit more than a fight.”

Billy was giving him a meaningful look and something churned around in Will’s stomach.

“Torture?”

Billy gave a tiny, shaky nod.

“He started talking about it. Said after that, he started thinkin’ about shit different. Said he thought he was gonna die down there and that nothing would change without him. It was heavy, and I was mostly feeling the same way, and I think that’s why he told me. Knew that I could get it. After that he kept visiting, and I noticed that I didn’t hurt as much when he was there. Or maybe I did, but having him there, squinting at the t.v. ‘cause he can’t see worth a’ shit, or making some stupid comment about a nurse on the floor just made it easier. He makes a lotta shit easier.”

“I think that’s what it should be like. I don’t think love should make things harder.” Will thought of his mom and dad, and how different she acted with Hopper.

Like she didn’t hurt as much when he was there.

“It was hard in the beginning. I mean, before we got together. I thought that he didn’t feel the same way, you know? That I was just being an idiot, feeling like that for my best friend. But then he told me. He’s always been a lot braver than people give him credit for. Anyway, he told me, and it should’ve been fucking terrifying. And I was scared of people finding out. Still am, but it’s like, even if we get run outta town, and everyone we care about turns against us, it’ll be fine because we’re not just me an’ him, we’re us .”

Billy blinked quickly, almost as if he was surprised by his own words.

They clanged around in Will’s head.

We’re not just me an’ him, we’re us.

“You don’t have to be scared, though. I mean, of people finding out. Of turning against you both. We won’t let that happen. Not about something like this.”

Billy gave him a weak smile.

“I guess it makes sense. I mean, you all took me in after killing half the town. Tracks that you wouldn’t throw me out for. Being gay.”

“There are worse things to be than gay.”

“Psycho killer not one of them?”

Will gave Billy as unimpressed of a stare as he could muster.

“That wasn’t you. You forget, I know what it was like to have him controlling me. I know what it’s like to not do anything to stop him, even when you are fighting with everything you’ve got. I nearly killed my mom. I even might have, if I’d been stronger. You fought against him, and in the end, you won. I never could’ve done that.”

Billy just stared at the wall slightly above Will’s left shoulder.

“I killed people, too. When he had me. Led a whole group of people right into a trap. And it still scares me what he did. But I know that it wasn’t me that did it. It wasn’t you that did any of that, Billy.”

“I tell myself that. Hell, Steve tells me that about every five minutes. Just hard to watch yourself doing that awful shit and not be able to tell your body to knock it off.”

Will didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t.

Billy was right. It was a nightmare watching yourself hurt people around you, feeling like you were in the backseat, screaming at yourself to stop.

But Billy had done what Will couldn’t’ve.

Right at that last moment, he stood up to the thing controlling his every move.

Stood up to that horrific flesh monster, adn died rather than let it kill El.

El, who he didn’t even know.

And then Billy’s bedroom door down the hall opened slowly, and Steve poked his head into the hall, swearing under his breath when he saw someone in the hall with Billy and trying to duck out of sight, knocking the back of his head into the doorframe and swearing again.

Billy laughed, a low wheezy laugh that ended in a short coughing fit.

“Real fuckin’ subtle, Harrington,” he choked out.

The door opened once more and Steve stepped out into the hallway, trying to look casual.

“I didn’t realize it was you there, Will. How’s it goin’?”

Billy laughed again, and gestured for Steve to come and help him stand up.

Steve did so quickly, smiling warmly at Billy when he had righted him on his feet, and keeping hold of Billy’s arm.

“Why are you sneakin’ in my window like some kinda perv?”

“Because I wanted to talk. I have a lot of emotions today.” Steve turned to address Will. “You kids are gonna be the death of me. And I mean that in the nicest way I possibly can.”

“Yeah, well. You guys are family.” Will shrugged, feeling very awkward when both Steve and Billy. Looked as though their eyes were overbright. Will panicked, trying to think of an exit strategy before he saw either of them cry.

He had seen them both in too many intimate moments today.

“Um, I’m pretty tired, so I think I’m gonna go to bed. Let me know if you need, uh, help tomorrow. You know, heading of my mom or anything.”

Will turned on his heel and slipped back into his own bedroom.

“Alright, Bert. It’s been a long day and I’m gonna need some help getting into bed. My legs have gone totally stiff.”

“Oh, in no way am I Bert! I’m totally Ernie. You’re Bert. Think about it: you’re surly, and rude, and-”

“Gonna dump you if you don’t shut up and help me go to bed.”

“Spoken like a true Bert.”

#the big schmoop #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #i thinkg this was for #harringrove for palestine #but i really can't remember #idk merlin donated some money somehweere and i wrote this 💕

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sequinsmile-x · 3 years ago

Text

Concussion

Emily gets hit over the head. Aaron worries.

Based on a prompt from the lovely @ssa-sparks

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of minor injuries/blood/stitches etc

Read over on Ao3 or below the cut!

It happens so fast.

Emily and JJ go in first at Aaron’s request, aware that there were children on the scene and their presence would startle them less. They clear the first floor of the house, JJ directing the two young boys they find in the living room out of the front door. Emily opens the door to the basement, clearing the way as she walks down the stairs.

As soon as her feet hit the bottom step she is hit in the head, hard, and falls to the ground. She cries out as her vision and hearing briefly go, the pain spreading throughout her skull immediately. She isn’t sure exactly what happens, she can hear the muffled sound of JJ yelling, and the others rushing in. The unsub apprehended by Derek almost immediately, the 2x4 he had used to hit her abandoned on the ground next to her.

Emily closes her eyes to block out the light that suddenly seemed too intense. She smells his cologne before she sees him. Something warm and uniquely Aaron filling her senses. Something that smelt like home. When she reopens her eyes Aaron is there, leaning over her, concern written all over his face.

“Em? Are you hurt? What happened?” He asks, grimacing when he looks at her properly.

“He got the drop on me.” Emily says as she sits up, her eyes briefly going blurry again. Aaron reaches out for her, his hands on her upper arms as he tries to steady her. She puts her hand to her forehead and pulls it back to see blood on her fingers. “Damn it.”

“What do you remember?” He asks, not bothering to cover his concern as he helps her sit up.

“Aaron, calm down. I didn’t even pass out.” She blinks a couple times, wincing as she again puts her hand to her head where she was hit. She shrugs his hands off of her, looking around the room at the local cops surrounding them, annoyed that despite the head injury she was the one who seemed to remember where they were. “I’m fine.”

He ignores her, his worry outweighing his usual ability on picking up on her frustration.

“Do you know where we are? What year is it? Who am I?” He asks in quick succession, dutifully helping her to her feet as she tries to do it herself, not making any comment when she grasps his bicep when she loses her balance.

“If you don’t stop, you won’t be my boyfriend for much longer, that much I can tell you.”

He ignores her again, used to being the one she would take out her frustration on, very rarely rising to the bait.

“The EMTs are outside, we’ll get them to have a look at you.” He says, following her up the stairs to make sure she doesn’t fall.

“Aaron.”

“Please don’t argue with me on this.” He pleads as they make it to the first floor, his eyes imploring her to just listen to him.

She gently nods her response and walks outside. She’s aware of his hand hovering just behind her lower back, ever ready to support her if she needed it, even if she didn’t want him to. ____________

“Why is it always you that ends up with a head injury?” Aaron asks quietly, his voice gentle as if he is avoiding making her inevitable headache worse.

She was sat up on a gurney, the EMTs having decided she needed to go to hospital to get checked over properly. Aaron was sitting on the edge facing her. Emily winces as he presses the ice pack the nurse had handed him against the gash on her forehead, the cold seeping in and making her head pound. They were waiting for the doctor to see if she needed stitches. The rest of the team were packing up at the precinct, waiting to meet them at the jet, leaving the couple to it.

It was well known that Emily wasn’t a good patient, neither of them were. In the few times one of them, or on one very stressful occasion for Dave both of them, were in need of a hospital check up since they got together they were only placated by each other. Raised eyebrows and vague threats enough to make them listen to the doctors as they were poked and prodded to make sure none of their injuries were permanent.

“I don’t always end up with head injuries, Aaron.” She says through her teeth. Her annoyance at him is lost in translation, the blood that still stained her face and had dripped down onto her chest removing some of its bite.

“Well you get more than the rest of us.” He briefly lifts the ice pack to look at the wound, his breath hitching when he sees it again. A mar on her pale skin, one of his favourite places to kiss her. He tenderly moves some of her hair out of the way, tucking it behind her ear with such affection she can’t help but smile at him despite her frustration. He puts the ice pack back down on her skin. “It’s like you’re attracted to 2x4s or something.”

“Shut the fuc-”

“Agent Prentiss?”

They both turn to see a doctor standing at the end of the cubicle they were in, an amused look on her face that told them just how much of their exchange she had overheard.

“Let's have a look at this head wound, shall we?”

Aaron moves the ice pack and stands up to give the doctor some room, but stays next to the gurney.

“Oh yeah, definitely stitches.” The doctor says, her gloved fingers pressing gently at Emily’s forehead.

“Seriously?” Emily says, staring at the doctor as she nods. “блять.”

The doctor looks concerned and turns to Aaron, her eyebrow raised.

“That’s normal.” He explains, a small smile on his face. “She always curses in Russian when she’s annoyed. Usually it’s aimed at me.”

“It's the best language to curse in.” Emily explains to the doctor before turning to glare at her boyfriend.

They patiently wait as the doctor sets up the stuff she needs to stitch Emily’s forehead. Aaron grabs her hand when he sees the needle the doctor moves towards her face as she explains it’s a local anaesthetic that will numb some of the pain. Emily raises her eyebrow at him, and mutters something under her breath about how she isn’t a child.

Neither of them acknowledge how tightly she squeezes his hand once the doctor begins. He leans down to press a kiss to the top of Emily’s head and smiles against her hair when she further tightens her grip on him. ____________

Emily was so relieved to get home she could have cried. The noise of the jet had made her head throb harder as the flight went on, the hours dragging on into what felt like days. Aaron had encouraged her to sleep on the journey but she refused, wanting to ensure her paperwork was finished before they landed. The promise of having the following day off getting her through the headache that was made worse by Derek and Spencer’s latest prank war.

She had caught Aaron glaring at them, an admonishment on the tip of his tongue but she had nudged him under the table with her knee before he could, a soft smile on her face as she looked at him adoringly.

Even when he pissed her off she loved him. And that pissed her off even more.

She hated being coddled, and even after all of this time with Aaron she still sometimes found his affection surprising. How easily he’d give it away to her, like it cost him nothing. How he’d buy her candy on the way home just because he walked past the aisle and thought of her. He’d touch her at any given opportunity. A hand brushing over her shoulder or her waist, pressed into her lower back as he guides her through a door. A kiss to her forehead, her cheek.

Ever since the EMT had told them she needed to go to the hospital he had been treating her like she was made of glass and she hated it, hated that he looked so guilty as the doctor had stitched her forehead back together. She knows he needs this, to look after her. Penance for what he deemed to be his fault since it was his decision to send her into the house first. So she lets him hover, with minimal barbs thrown at him so he knows when he is toeing the line between what she deems acceptable and what is too far.

She merely rolls her eyes at him, ignoring how it made her head burn with pain, when he insists on carrying her go-bag for her, but she stops him at opening her car door as he pulls their car up on their driveway. She’s out of the car before he can think about it, an eyebrow raised at him in defiance when he starts to protest.

As soon as the front door closes behind them he sets the alarm and throws their go-bags over the back of the couch. Emily takes off her shoes and coat, closing her eyes as her head swims when she bends forward to put the shoes away. When she’s upright again she knows he’s seen it, his eyes fixed on her.

“Why don’t you head on up sweetheart. I’ll be right up.” He says as he kisses her temple.

“Okay.” Emily replies, not having it in her to argue. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

Her nighttime routine goes by in a blur, and if questioned she wasn’t even sure if she would remember completing all of the steps. She turns off the main light, leaving only Aaron’s bedside light on, and climbs in under the covers.

When Aaron enters the room she is almost asleep, shocked awake by the room flooding with light. She groans, pulling the comforter over her head to block out what she can.

“Too bright.” She grumbles, her voice muffled.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He turns the light back off and sheds his suit, his jacket over the back of a chair in a corner.

He gets ready for bed and climbs in next to her, a smile on his face as he gently pulls the covers back from her face. He gently runs his thumb over the edge of the large white dressing on her forehead, the spares tucked in his go-bag with instructions from the doctor on when to change it written on his phone.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“Head hurts.” She admits, feeling able to do so now it was just the two of them in the safety of their bedroom, with no prying eyes or concerned glances from the team. Even though so much time had passed since Ian Doyle had torn through their lives, there was always a moment when she was hurt that she would see the panic on her friend’s faces. See them go back to the time they were all told she was dead. It made her want to protect them, claiming she was fine even though her head felt like it had been stamped on.

Aaron was different. There was so much naked honesty in their relationship, so much that could be said without either of them saying a word, that she knew he already knew how she was feeling at any given time.

At one point in her life she would have found it suffocating, the fact that someone could know her that well. When they started their relationship she kept waiting for it to happen, for him to be so good, so righteous, that it would tip her over the edge. Make her self-destruct and take him down with her. But it never came. Now she can’t imagine life without him.

“I know it does, baby.” He answers before kissing her forehead, his lips grazing the edge of the dressing. “Get some sleep.”

“Are you going to let me sleep?” She asks, voice thick with exhaustion as she curls into his side.

“I’m going to follow the doctor's instructions and wake you up every couple hours if that’s what you’re asking.”

“иди на хуй.”

He chuckles into the top of her head. “I’m going to choose to believe that's you saying you love me.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, honey.” ____________

“Em, sweetheart. You’ve got to wake up.” He shakes her slightly and can’t help the relief he feels when she groans.

“What time is it?”

“3am.”

“I hate you so much.” She grumbles before she pulls his arm tighter across her waist, wrapping herself up tighter in his embrace. She moves with a speed that surprises herself and reaches behind her to press her hand over his mouth. “If you even think about asking me what year it is and if I know who you are, I’ll make you sleep in the garden. Concussion or no concussion.”

He smiles against the palm of her hand and kisses it before removing it from his mouth.

“Straight to the garden?”

“The spare room or the couch are for good boyfriends who let me sleep through the night.”

He kisses her temple. “I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

“I know.” She says, already drifting back off to sleep. “And I love you. But let's go back to sleep.”

“I love you too.” He kisses her temple again. “See you in a couple hours.”

He smiles at, and ignores, the Russian curse words she mutters under her breath and strokes her hair until she falls asleep again.

He doesn’t sleep that night, keeping an eye on her until the sun rises.

When he falls asleep on the couch the following afternoon she purposely wakes him by turning the tv volume all the way up, disregarding the pounding in her own head.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fluff #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #it's just fluff guys #and a bit of hurt comfort #Aaron being worried #Emily being a bit of a pain in the ass #Emily Prentiss whump #tw: minor mention of blood #tw: one mention of needles

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agerefandom · 4 years ago

Text

Only Heaven I’ll Be Sent To

Fandom: Resident Evil VIII/Village

Words: 4,000

Characters: regressor!reader, cg!Alcina Dimitrescu, Bela Dimitrescu (other Dimitrescu sisters mentioned).

Content Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. CGLRE terminology/parental caregiver terms (Mommy). Diaper mentions. Firearms, knives, and vampirism. Reader gets injured (but cared for afterwards). Minor character death. Blood. Eldritch biology and limited insect horror. Fem reader (uses she/her pronouns).

Author’s Notes: Y’all are clearly hungry for caregiver Lady Dimitrescu, and I hear you! I’m planning a fluffy follow-up fanfiction with a happy reader getting babied by Alcina, where there is no blood and violence, but first… we have to take care of Ethan Winters. So that’s what this is. Enjoy!

You come to consciousness slowly, the strands of a dream still clinging to you. The memory is already fading, but you remember feeling cold. Wandering a frozen wasteland, lost and alone.

It’s a relief to breathe in the warm air of your bedroom. The fire has burned down to embers, but the windows keep out the cold winter of the mountains around the castle where you live. The rooms are always kept warm for the comfort of your big sisters.

You yawn and stretch your arms over your head, wiggling your toes against the soft sheets of your bed as you shake off the lingering fatigue. You were dressed in a onesie for the night, with a short built-in skirt, and you don’t really feel like a baby right now. Today, you want to run around and explore the castle on certain legs.

You slide out of the bed and make an unhappy sound as the cold stone meets your bare feet. You quickly make your way over to the heavy wardrobe that towers on the wall across from your bed. Far too tall for you, it was made to fit Mommy’s dresses, but you liked climbing in it so much that Mommy brought it to your room one night while you were sleeping, and filled it with your own outfits.

You reach up to the handle and pull the doors open, looking up at the many dresses and onesies that fill the wardrobe. It’s winter right now, so there’s a whole section of fur-lined dresses that will keep you warm if you want to play with Mommy outside. You don’t do that often, because your sisters get jealous, but Mommy is really good at making snowforts that you can climb inside, and you like playing with her in the snow.

For today, you pick out a simple ruffled black dress that comes down to your knees. Mommy can do your hair with black ribbons and crow feathers, and you’ll blend in with your sisters’ dark dresses.

Humming to yourself, you bring the new outfit over to the statue in the corner. The door to the bathroom is hidden in an alcove, and you have to push the statue’s elbow to open it. This seemed odd when you first moved into this room, but now it’s just another part of your daily routine. The castle is full of tricks and hidden passages, and you still haven’t explored all of them.

You slip past the statue into the revealed doorway, and dump your clothes on the floor as you rid yourself of the onesie and the diaper underneath. Baby stuff! You’re not a baby today.

You replace the diaper with a pair of soft bloomers, and the onesie with the black dress. It has a line of buttons that run up your spine, and you can’t quite reach them all, so you leave a few undone and decide you’ll ask one of your sisters to help. Mommy has been busy a lot for the last few days, so you don’t know if you’ll see her today. You hope so, though. You miss her.

You pull a pair of stockings on, sighing happily as your toes are finally protected from the cold tile floor. The rest of the bathroom visit is boring, brushing your teeth and washing your face. One of your big sisters will brush your hair: hopefully Bela, she tugs your scalp the least.

Once you’re all dressed, you skip out of the bathroom and slip on a pair of shoes. They’re flats, because you’re too young to walk in heels, but they click on the stone floors and make you feel like a little tap dancer. And they have bats printed on the sides in white, which makes you happy.

You run into the hallway, letting the golden door to your room close behind you.

This castle used to confuse you, with all its winding hallways and grand staircases. You would get lost whenever Mommy wasn’t holding your hand, and one of your sisters would find you and drag you back to your room. They didn’t like you very much at first, but they’ve gotten nicer. Daniela reads to you sometimes, and Bela plays pretend when you ask her. Cassandra is… Cassandra, and she tries to feed you lots of nasty things, but she also likes to do your makeup. So she’s okay.

The four of you cuddle sometimes, when Mommy’s away and the castle is a little chilly. They like your body heat, and you like the contact.

Through the years, you’ve gotten comfortable both with your big sisters and with the castle itself. It’s second nature to dodge through the secret passage to the staircase into the main foyer, peering around for any of the other castle inhabitants. Mommy gave up on the servants again last week, so it’s just you and your family members right now. Unless you want to go down into the basement and play with the remains, who stumble and hiss and take care of the rats. They don’t attack you, only intruders, but they aren’t very much fun to play with.

“Mommy? Sisters?” you call out into the hall, tapping one foot against the ground.

For a few moments, there’s nothing. Then Mommy ducks through the door behind you, fully dressed with her lipstick on. Maybe she’s already been out today.

“Sweetheart?” Mommy rushes over and kneels on the stone floor to embrace you. “What are you doing out of your room?”

“Hungry,” you say. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, little one.” Mommy draws back and puts both hands on your shoulders. She makes you feel so small. You almost wish you’d worn a onesie today. When you’re a baby, Mommy carries you everywhere and never lets you out of her arms. That sounds nice, especially when you missed her so much. “Listen to me, sweetheart.”

Mommy looks… serious. You blink and try to focus. What is that look in her eyes? It’s so unfamiliar. Could it be worry? No, Mommy doesn’t worry about anything.

“I need you to go back to your room and lock the door, okay? I’ll bring you food soon, but you need to stay there.” She isn’t blinking as she stares into your eyes. “Some prey has escaped. Your sisters will handle him swiftly, but he is armed. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

This isn’t the first time this has happened. Sometimes, Hunters come to the castle and try and hurt your family, and you have to wait in your room. They bring knives and guns, but they can’t hurt any of the others. You aren’t like your sisters, you’re fragile. So Mommy keeps you safe.

“I’ll carry you there, little one. And remember, don’t you leave.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

Mommy wraps her arms around you, and the ground drops away. Settled on her hip, you cling to her side. Mommy runs hot like you, not like your sisters. When you lay on her chest, you can hear her pulse, a rapid double-beat. Your sisters don’t have a heartbeat, but you can hear the fluttering wings that fill their chest if you hold your breath and listen closely.

You like Mommy’s warmth, and you like how strong her arms are around you. You can barely feel the rhythm of her steps as she drifts down the hallway towards your room.

“I’m a big girl today,” you tell her. She’s carrying you like a baby, but maybe she just missed you as much as you missed her. Or maybe she really is worried.

“I can tell! You got dressed all by yourself,” Mommy teases, wiggling a finger into the gap left by the buttons you couldn’t reach.

“Uh-huh!” You’re proud of the outfit you picked out. “Can we play outside soon?”

“Once the problem is taken care of, I would love to watch you play in the courtyard.” She rests her hand at your back, keeping you close. “Big girls need their fresh air, after all.”

“Thank you, Mommy.”

She sets you down all too soon, straightening them hem of your dress. “Here we are, darling. Don’t open the door for anyone other than your sisters, and protect yourself if you must.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.” Mommy presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, and then ushers you inside the bedroom. You turn in time to watch her close the door behind you, and you obediently turn the lock. Only Mommy’s key can open your room, like many others in the castle.

You flop onto your bed with a huff.

You got to see Mommy for the first time in days, but she’s busy with some stupid human who escaped from your sisters. You hate the stupid human who’s costing you time with Mommy, especially when she said you could play in the courtyard.

And you’re hungry! Mommy said she would bring you food, but you’re hungry now.

You kick your feet against the mattress. It’s a half-hearted tantrum, since no one is watching, but it makes you feel a little better.

Eventually, you hop off the bed and pace the room, your shoes going click click click on the stones.

It’s just one human, right? And you’re a big girl today. And it’s a big castle! He’s probably nowhere near the kitchen. You can run out, get some food, and then go right back to your room. Mommy will never know that you left.

You reluctantly retrieve your weapons from the top of the dresser, adding your belt of throwing knives on top of your dress. You aren’t supposed to use them when you’re little, but you’re not that little, and Mommy said to protect yourself if you needed to.

You take two of the knives in your hands, and try spinning them. It’s easy, body memory taking over. You toss one across the room, and it slices through the swirl of curtain you had been aiming at.

There, it’s settled. You’re a big girl and no manthing is going to scare you.

Nodding, you tuck the remaining knife back in its sheath, and turn your attention to the fireplace. It’s the fastest way to the kitchen from your room, and you’ve used it as a shortcut many times in the past. Your sisters don’t care if you get your dress dirty, they get blood and dirt on theirs all the time. So a little ash and grime is fine. (Mommy would disagree, but Mommy isn’t always around.)

You pour some water on the remaining embers from last night’s fire, and shuffle carefully into the fireplace. The wall at the back of the fireplace has crumbled away, revealing a passage that once needed to be triggered by pressing a certain brick. Now you can just crawl straight into it.

The rats like the passageways by the kitchen, and you brush past a few of them in the dark. Cassandra once trained a bunch of the castle rats to attack intruders, and you’ve had a fondness for the little friends ever since. They were scary in big groups, but just like everything else in Mommy’s castle, they would never hurt you.

You emerge into the kitchen, and stretch up to standing. As expected, your palms are covered in grime, and your skirt is heavy with soot and ash. You do your best to brush yourself off, and then start towards the sink to wash your hands, when a terrible screech fills the air.

“You stupid manthing!” you hear Bela scream from the next room.

Your headspace makes a quick shift into adulthood, startled to hear one of your sisters so distressed. Immediately, you run to the gate between the kitchen and the lower levels of the castle. Through the gate, you can see that one of the windows has been shattered. Dozens of your sister’s insects lie on the floor, unmoving, as she stumbles in the wind blowing through the broken glass.

“Bela!” you cry out, scrambling to open the gate. That’s when the first gunshot rings out, tearing through your sister’s shoulder. Her insects reform around it, but she cries out and you can tell that it hurt. As she stumbles to the left, you see the man standing behind her.

He’s covered in blood and grime, barely recognizable as human, but the stubble scattered across his cheeks marks him as prey to your family.

“Get away from my sister!” you scream, as the manthing shoots again at her. This shot hits her head, and insects scatter from the impact. Her face is gone for a moment, then reforms, her mouth wide open in rage.

Bela charges the stranger, her scythe held high.

You watch them struggle, and the man pushes her back into the frigid wind. He switches his attention to the windows, and breaks another one. You feel the winter air sweep inwards, and Bela wails.

“Bela, run!” You throw the gate open. “Get out of there!”

“He’s mine! My prey!” Bela hisses, advancing on the man again. Fear beats in your chest. You’ve never seen your sisters outmatched, but this man is too smart, and Bela is at a severe disadvantage in the room with broken windows. “How dare you bare your teeth at us!” She launches herself at the manthing again, and you watch his blood drip from your sister’s blade.

You’ve hunted with your sisters before. You’ve seen humans face death more times than you could count. You know how pain looks on their faces.

This man barely flinches as he pushes your sister back into the swirling snowflakes coming through the window. His face is set in a mask of determination, as he reloads his weapon and levels it again at Bela. This is no human like you’ve hunted before.

“Bela!” you scream, and throw one of your knives.

It sinks into the manthing’s thigh, and he hisses, pausing to pull it out and toss it aside. That brings your sister enough time to swoop towards him, but she’s moving more slowly in the cold air. The stranger manages to get his weapon back up before she can hit him, and fires straight into Bela’s face.

Both of you scream in unison, and you run forward into the room. The cold air prickles at your arms, but it doesn’t debilitate you the same way it does your sisters. You tug Bela backwards, as she writhes and hisses against your grip.

“Bela, find the others!” you yell. “Get out of here!”

The manthing seems to have finally picked you up as a threat. The next shot goes through your calf, and you lurch to the floor with a shout.

“How dare you!” Bela screeches, and throws herself again at the stranger.

You manage to get to your feet, and stumble towards the door. If you and Bela can get on the other side and then lock the manthing in the basement, Mother can deal with him without fear of the cold air or his stupid bullets. She is stronger than your sisters, stronger than anyone else.

Bela takes two more shots to her chest and begins retreating after you. You know that your sisters are unused to running from fights, but you don’t want to risk anything with this strange manthing who pulls knives out of his leg and tosses them aside without hesitation.

Another shot clips your shoulder, and your shaky grip on your adult headspace falls away. You topple to the ground, unable to stand the pain in your left leg.

You hear a scream, and it takes a moment to realize that it’s coming from you. You take your fear, your pain, and give it a voice. It echoes through the hallways.

“Mommy!”

The manthing seems to hesitate as your scream echoes around him.

You take the chance to throw another two knives. It’s a sloppy attempt, thrown haphazardly from the floor in pure self-defence. But they both strike true, one between his lower ribs and the other just above the mark from the first knife.

Red fluid seeps from him, dripping onto the tile.

He stumbles backwards, pulling a green bottle from his pocket and pouring its contents over his leg as he yanks the knife out. You watch as the blood is washed away, and the wounds close.

He came prepared.

“Ethan Winters!” a familiar voice snaps, and you almost collapse from pure relief. Mommy.

Mommy drifts in from the kitchen, ducking through the gated doorway and ushering Bela behind her. Bela is still snarling, but she’s clearly hurt, and allows her mother to push her back.

“You sneak into my house, you attack my daughters, youngest and eldest alike?”

The manthing fires his weapon again, directly into her chest, and you cover your ears against the noise. It echoes against the walls and although you know it can’t hurt Mommy, it scares you to see him try.

“You bring your filthy body to my property, you draw blood from my baby, and then you dare to raise your weapon to me?”

You haven’t seen Mommy this angry… ever. Her claws are extended, her back rigid as she faces down the man named Ethan Winters. Bela’s arms wrap around you and she drags you away from the fight. The movement jostles your wounded leg, and you cry out in spite of yourself, trying to twist out of Bela’s grasp.

Mommy looks back towards you. The man takes her lapse of attention as a chance to pull out a heavier gun, firing straight at her head.

It does nothing.

Mommy stands tall, in the face of bullets, in the swirling snow, and her claws flex as she looks down at the manthing in front of her.

Now, Ethan Winters looks scared. Now, Ethan Winters looks human.

“I would love to take my time and truly teach you a lesson,” Mommy purrs, reaching out to grab the manthing by the throat. “But my daughters need my attention, and I am… a doting mother. So I’m afraid this will have to be quick.”

Blood is all around you, in the Dimitrescu Castle. Big or small, old or young, you’re no stranger to violence.

You still find yourself covering your eyes as Mommy tears the strange man to shreds. You can hear her spitting out pieces of him, making sounds of disgust. His blood must not be good.

“Bela, come feed. You need the replenishment.”

Mommy drags what remains of the body into the kitchen, where Bela is safely resting, away from the cold air that fills the room where you sit.

You hear your sister begin to drink.

“Darling, are you alright?”

Mommy’s arms wrap around you, careful not to jostle your injuries.

Tearfully, you shake your head. You were scared, and Bela almost died. If you had stayed in your room and hidden like Mommy had said, you were sure that your sister would have been gone. You had almost both been killed, and if Mommy had been slower….

“M’sorry,” you sob, turning into the embrace. “I left.”

“And I’m very upset that you put yourself in danger, but I am not going to scold you right now. May I carry you to your room? You need medicine.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Mommy cradles you and carefully picks you up. Your dress is ruined, covered in grime and blood. You look over and see Bela crouched over a body. It’s suddenly easier to breathe once you see its face, blank and staring. The manthing doesn’t look special as a corpse. Just another dead human.

You turn your face into Mommy’s chest, and she presses a hand to the back of your head, keeping you there. The smell of copper blood fades as she carries you out of the kitchen and down the hall to your room. Mommy doesn’t take the shortcuts like you and your sisters. They’re much too small and dirty for her.

That thought makes you laugh.

“Is my little one amused?” Mommy asks, petting your scalp with gloved fingers.

“Mmm, m’small and dirty,” you giggle.

“You are very small and very dirty. A bath is in order for both of us once your wounds are tended to.” That sounds like heaven to your exhausted mind.

Mommy shoulders your door open, splintering the lock, and lays you on the bed. You whine as she moves away from you, reaching towards her.

“I’ll be back in a moment, darling. Are mama o fetiţă, cat un ghemotoc, are mama o fetiţă, cuminţică foc,” Mommy begins to sing as she makes her way around the room, gathering supplies. You relax, her voice reassuring you that she’s still nearby.

Soon, she’s back, sitting at the foot of your bed. There’s a bottle of first aid fluid in her hand, like the one the manthing used.

“This will sting, but it will help.” Mommy takes your foot in her hand, and carefully unbuckles your shoe. It looks tiny in her hand, like a doll’s shoe. Dropping it to the ground, she pulls down your stocking to reveal the wound in your calf.

You turn your face away, whining at the sight of the blood streaking your skin.

“Hush, darling.” You feel lips against the wound, a brief flare of pain as she presses against it. She makes a soft sound, and you look down to watch her lick your blood from her lips. “Don’t look,” Mommy tells you, and you close your eyes again.

Then she pours something on your leg, and everything is pain.

You twist in her grip, crying out, and she holds you down.

“I know, darling, I know. It will pass. I’m sorry.” More pain, this time radiating from your shoulder. You try to kick out, and she catches your feet. “I’ve got you. Breathe, little one. It will pass.”

And sure enough, after what feels like an eternity, the pain begins to lift. You can feel your fingers again, and your toes. Your body is more than a twisting line of agony. The ache becomes gentler, and eventually it lifts all together.

You lie on the bed, feeling the tears streaking your face, and you hear Mommy sigh in relief.

“There, all done.”

She gathers you onto her lap, and you lie passively in her arms, too exhausted to do anything else.

“My brave girl,” she praises, kissing your forehead. “My brave, brave daughter. I’m so proud of you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

“M’sorry.” You know she was worried about you. You can still hear it in her voice.

“No, darling, I’m sorry. I should have found him and… well. He shouldn’t have been able to hurt you. It won’t happen again, I promise.” Mommy rocks you back and forth, gently, and you can tell that your body has been healed. There is no pain in your leg, no pain in your shoulder. “I promise.”

“Love you.” There are so many things you want to say, but you’re tired and little and you just want to take a bath with Mommy and have a bottle and fall asleep in her arms.

“I love you more.”

She holds you tight, close enough that you can hear the doubled, inhuman heartbeat thrumming in her chest. Close enough that you can feel the unnatural heat of her skin. Close enough that you feel at home.

A/N: The song that Alcina sings is in Romanian, but I think it’s a translation of an English song. If anyone knows a traditional Romanian lullaby, I’d be happy to replace it. The lyrics translate as

“Mommy has a little girl, as small as a ball of fur Mommy has a little girl, and she’s a very good girl.”

I do have a fluffier, lighter sequel to this story planned, so let me know if you’d like to read it!

#resident evil agere #y'all really asked for this!!!!#violence mention #tw violence #my writing #my stories #agere writing #fandom agere #resident evil #resident evil village #i just know people are going to disrespect my dni on this story....#please don't #cglre terminology

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unbound-space-trash · 4 years ago

Text

Stars

summary: the mandalorian comes back from a hunt, but you’re not quite ready to go from being cooped up on the ship planetside, to being cooped up on the ship in space [ao3]

words: 2.3k

warnings: none except for some swearing and fluff about idiots in love

a/n: I really wasn’t expecting this to be longer than a thousand words, but more words kept happening and it just... kept going... so, have some words

✰ ✰ ✰

The Child babbled and waved his arms animatedly at you as the two of you played on the floor of the Razor Crest’s cargo hold.

It was closing in on the fourth day since the Mandalorian had left to go chase down a bounty, and you and the Child were both getting a little restless from being cooped up on the ship.

You were also starting to feel a desperate need for adult interaction, because while the Child had no problem holding up a side of a conversation, it wasn’t exactly intelligible. And sure, Mando wasn’t the most talkative of beings (if you were being honest, sometimes you felt like you were talking to an empty helmet for all he held up his end), at least conversations between the two of you revolved around topics other than food and naps.

You stretched your arms above your head before gathering up the pile of scattered blocks again. “Alright little one, I’ll cut you a deal,” you said as you fixed the Child with a mock-stern look. “I’ll help you build one more tower, and then you help me tidy up and put together some dinner, yeah?”

The Child tilted his head at you before reaching out and patting the palm of the hand you offered him, an excited look in his eyes at the promise of minor destruction and food.

You laughed. “Excellent. Now hand me that green one and we can-“

thumpthump thump thumpthump

The sound of someone hitting the outer hull of the Crest cut you off, and at the recognition of the familiar pattern, you quickly shoved the colourful blocks behind a crate before scooping up the Child and rushing up the ladder to close the two of you in the cockpit.

More than used to the routine by now, the Child was quiet in your arms as you got yourself settled in the co-pilots seat. His large ears perked up at the sound of the rear hatches ramp descending, and then you found yourself hurriedly covering said ears at the sudden onslaught of curses and insults.

“-iece of shit! Take these fuckin’ cuffs off me so I c’n knock th’t shitty fuckin’ helmet off your fuckin’ head, you stupid shiny moth-FUCK!”

The familiar hiss of the carbonite freezer cut off the swearing of the pissed off bounty and the Crest fell mostly silent again, until the sound of someone climbing the ladder drifted into the cockpit.

The cockpit doors opened and you shot an unimpressed look at the Mandalorian standing in the doorway, your hands still covering the Child’s ears.

“You know, I really won’t be surprised if the kid’s first word in Basic is ‘fuck’,” you said, before lowering your hands.

Mando made his way into the cockpit and turned the pilot’s seat around to face you before sitting down. “Neither would I,” he huffed, leaning forward to take the Child who had started squirming with a vengeance the second his beskar-clad guardian had appeared. Mando turned his attention to the kid. “You behave while I was gone, ad’ika?”

The Child babbled and waved his hands animatedly.

“Eh, about as well as can be expected, all things considered,” you said as you made a see-saw motion with your hand. “On a totally unrelated note, if you find food stuck to anything high up, I’ll let you use your imagination as to how it got there.”

Mando shook his head. “Womp rat,” he grumbled, and you could hear the accompanying eyeroll. His helmet looked back in your direction. “Sorry it took so long. Bastard was smarter than I thought he’d be. But we should have a clear run back to Nevarro for a couple rest days before heading back out again.”

You couldn’t help the look of displeasure that crossed your face at the thought of being cooped up on the Razor Crest for even longer.

“What is it?” Mando asked.

You moved to stand up, “I- nothing.”

Mando’s head tilted at your hesitation. “Cyar’ika, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” You dropped back down into the co-pilots seat with a sigh. “The kid and I have been inside the Crest the whole time you were gone, and I just…” You sighed again, looking down as you picked at a loose thread on your shirt. “I was kind of hoping that we could, you know, stay a bit longer and just… get some fresh air and let the kid chase bugs or roll in the grass or whatever.” You raised your head back up to look at the Mandalorian who was just looking back at you. Probably. He was facing you at least. “O-only if it’s safe! That’s… that’s why we didn’t go outside while you were gone. I mean, I know you taught me to shoot so I can help protect the kid if I need to, but-”

“Cyar’ika, stop.” The Mandalorian cut you off.

You looked back down at your lap again. “‘M sorry, I knew it was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Mando said and he shifted the Child to one arm as he stood, offering you a hand.

You relished the feel of the worn leather in your hand as he pulled you up, a bright smile lighting up your features. “Really? You don’t mind?”

“C’mon mesh’la, I’ll start a fire and we can eat outside.”

You followed Mando out of the cockpit. He still hadn’t explained his nicknames for you, but they sound somewhat affectionate at least, so you guess you don’t mind.

✰ ✰ ✰

After he set up a small area and built up a fire just outside the cover of the Razor Crest, the Mandalorian disappeared back inside to clean up in the ‘fresher, while the Child “helped” you put together a quick stew for dinner.

As it cooked, you kept a close eye on the Child as he toddled through the grass and chased bugs in dying sunlight. When the Mandalorian returned, he took over so that you could take your own turn to wash up in the ‘fresher.

Once the food was ready, the Mandalorian went back up to the cockpit to eat, while you and the Child ate next to the fire.

You watched the Child’s eyes drooping closed more and more near the end of the meal, eventually retrieving his bowl before the poor kid could fall asleep in what little was left of his stew. Picking him and taking him inside, the combination of a full belly and running off all his excess energy had the Child asleep almost as soon as he was tucked into his little hammock.

The Mandalorian made his way back outside after you’d settled back next to the fire, leaning back a bit to look up at the stars.

“Where’s the kid?” He asked as he walked down the ramp.

You gestured in the direction of the bunk. “Comatose. I think that’s the easiest time I’ve ever had putting him down to sleep,” you said, a fond smile on your face.

Your gaze was still fixed on the stars above you, so you didn’t really notice the Mandalorian watching you. Not that you would have been able to see the way he looked at you, drinking in your features; the soft smile on your face, the way the stars reflected in your eyes. His adoration for you hidden behind a mask of beskar.

A gloved hand entered your line of sight. “Stand up.”

Your eyes flickered suspiciously between his visor and his hand, thinking back to the last time he’d done this, and the bruised ass and ego that had resulted from the self-defence lesson. “Mando, if you’re seriously thinking about another punching lesson, I’m going to politely tell you to fuck off.”

He said nothing, hand still held out waiting to help you up.

You let out a heavy sigh, knowing he wouldn’t back down. “Fine, but just know, if I end up puking, I’ll be aiming directly for your boots,” you grouched as you took his hand and were pulled to your feet.

An amused snort made its way through the modulator of the helmet as he led you by the hand to the side of the Crest, nodding to the handholds on the outer hull that led to the top of the ship. “Up.”

“Oh, hell no!” You looked at him in disbelief. “Nu-uh, I am not climbing up there so you can teach me a lesson in watching where I put my feet! Because when I fall off-“

“I won’t let you fall off, cyare, just climb up the damn ladder,” he said gruffly.

“Fine,” you said with a frown as you took your hand out of his (somewhat reluctantly) and climbed up the side of the ship.

You heard him begin his own ascent as you neared the top, and after you reached the roof of the Crest, you took up what you hoped was a solid stance. “I hope you’re prepared to explain to the kid why I have a broken arm tomorrow, Mando,” you told him.

His helmet tilted slightly. “You don’t trust me, cyare?”

You raised an eyebrow at him in response. “Mando, I trust you with my life. I don’t trust myself not to topple my ass off- … wh-what’re you doing?” You stuttered to a halt as he sat down on the roof.

The Mandalorian shrugged what would have been nonchalantly if you hadn’t picked up on the slightly nervous quality of his voice. “You can get a better view of the stars from up here.”

“I- you… I thought... s-stars?” All of your higher brain function seemed to have deserted you at the sight of your Mandalorian looking up at you, leaning back on one hand while the other rested on his knee.

He chuckled at the combination of confusion and appreciation on your face. “Yes mesh’la, stars.” He leaned forward to take his weight off his arm. “Are you going to stand there staring all night, or are you going to come sit down?”

You startled at the gentle teasing tone in his voice. “Oh, yeah- I… o-okay,” you stuttered out as you made your way over to him. You sat down next to him, leaving a foot of space between the two of you, only to let out a squeak of surprise as his arm came around your back and tugged you so that you were flush against his side.

There was another tug at your shoulder, this time directing you backwards. “Lie down, cyare,” he murmured next to your ear as he gently guided you to lay down with your head on his bicep.

A cool breeze drew you out of the shock of being pulled into such an intimate position with the Mandalorian, and you hesitantly wriggled a bit closer into his warmth. The arm curled around you tightened slightly and his thumb hesitantly began to rub gentle circles on your own arm. “Is… is this okay, mesh’la?”

You smiled at the question. “Yes Mando, this is more than okay,” you said, before turning your head to look back up at the stars.

The two of you had been laying there for a while, silently watching the moon as it made its slow march across the sky before you spoke up. “Are you ever going to tell me what they mean?”

The Mandalorian turned his head to you. “... the stars?”

You snorted out a laugh, “no, you overgrown tin can. What you call me, you know, the nicknames in what I’m going to assume is Mando’a.” His thumb stopped rubbing circles and you lifted yourself up on one elbow to look at him with a small frown. “None of them mean ‘asshole’, right?”

He huffs out a surprised laugh and pushes himself up to lean back on his elbows too. “No, none of them mean asshole,” he said as he turned his head back to the sky.

“Then what-”

“Beautiful.” His helmet tilted back towards you.

“I- what?” You were sure you hadn’t heard him properly.

The Mandalorian cleared his throat a little. “Mesh’la. It means ‘beautiful’.” He reached up and poked at the frown line between your eyebrows when you stayed silent, your mouth open in a little ‘o’ of surprise, and then his hand moved to cup your cheek. “You are beautiful.”

You turned your face into his hand and pressed a shy kiss into the palm of his glove even as you felt your face heating up. “Mando-” you began, but he shook his head and pulled you towards him to rest your forehead on his.

“Din,” his voice was soft and low, the single syllable barely picked up by the modulator. “Din Djarin. Not Mando, not to you.”

His name.

You pulled back to look at him, eyes tearing up a little even as your lips quirked into a smile at the trust he had in you to give you his name. “Din Djarin,” you murmured, testing out his name for yourself.

A low noise rumbled in his chest. Fuck, but he liked how his name fell from your lips. “Can I hold you again, ner kar’ta?”

“Of course,” you smiled and the two of you lay back down, Man- Din pillowing his head on his arm while you tucked yourself back into his side. “So, does this mean you’re going to tell me what the other ones mean?”

Din chuckled and you enjoyed how it sounded directly under your ear. “Not just yet, mesh’la. But maybe…” he broke off as if thinking about something.

“Maybe?” you questioned, perking up at the idea of possibly learning what another one meant.

“Shabuir,” he spoke up after a moment.

“You haven’t called me that before. What’s it mean?”

Din chuckled again. “That one means asshole.”

You huffed a laugh of your own and poked him in an unarmored section of his side in retaliation. “Shut up and watch the stars with me, smartass.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian x reader #gender neutral reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfic

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chocoholicannanymous · 3 years ago

Text

Concepts of Insanity (Glee)

AN: No proofreading whatsoever. Subject to rewrite if I change my mind about it. Take it or leave it.

Concepts of Insanity

“Kurt? Oh, there you are, good. We have an emergency!”

Kurt smiles a little as he finishes up rearranging the flowers. He adores Isabelle, he really does, but she's a bit...excitable. There's always an emergency, or a disaster, or a catastrophe. So far today there's been four, unless he's miscounting; a lose hem, a missing delivery of non-alcoholic champagne, Isabelle almost fainting from forgetting to eat, and the flowers he's currently fixing not being enough something or other. He's actually kind of curious what it is this time.

He gives the flowers a last look, nods with satisfaction and turns around. The smile on his lips dies the second he meets Isabelle's eyes. This isn't a normal emergency.

“What's wrong?”

“The musicians are here, only the vocalist is currently throwing up to the point where they've called an ambulance.”

Kurt winces. That doesn't sound good for whoever it is. Also it really doesn't sound good for them. Isabelle had gone out on a limb with the small ensemble she'd hired for the event, deciding to make the music more than a background by having some songs performed with vocals. To have the vocalist missing would throw off the setlist. Maybe not enough for most people to notice, but at an event like this? Someone would definitely notice.

Especially since word seemed to have spread.

“I've spent the last ten minutes on the phone, and there's not a single vocalist to be had. This is so bad, Kurt! I'm never going to hear the end of this.”

Kurt hesitates, uncomfortable with voicing his possible solution, but deciding to offer it up anyway. It's Isabelle.

(Plus Rachel will never forgive him if he doesn't and she finds out.)

“I know it's not what you were aiming at, but my roommate is a NYADA student, and I know that most of the songs you picked out is in her wheelhouse. I could call her? If she answers she could hop in a cab and be here in 30 minutes.”

Isabelle looks a bit hesitant, but nods.

“Please do. I'll pay for the cab too, obviously. Check back with me in 5 minutes?”

Kurt agrees and hurries out to a silent space, phone in hand already dialing as he walks. There's no response for his first call, and Kurt leaves a hurried voice mail for Rachel to call him asap as it's an emergency. He then sends the same message as a text before trying to call again. He manages to squeeze in a total of five calls before he has to return to Isabelle, without response.

Maybe Rachel's in the shower again. Or singing. Or on a date with Brody.

“I'm sorry, Isabelle. I couldn't get hold of her.”

“Never mind, I have an idea. Can you do it?”

Kurt stares at her, not quite believing he heard her right.

“Me?” She nods and he shakes his head. “Isabelle, you've never even heard me sing!”

“True. But honey, I know how good you are with fashion. For you to chose music over that you have to be either insanely talented or just insane. So, will you do it?”

Kurt wants to shake his head again. What she's suggesting is crazy. Yes, Kurt can sing, but... His focus on music is more and more looking like insanity. He's just gotten rejected by Carmen Tibideaux a second time, for crying out loud. “Devoid of complexity and depth” echoes through his skull.

Except. This is Isabelle asking. His fairy godmother of sorts. He owes her.

“Are you sure? I'll do it, if you really want, but I'm not going to be anywhere as good as whoever you'd hired,” or Rachel for that matter, “and I don't want to ruin this for you.”

“You are going to be amazing. Thank you, Kurt, you're a lifesaver!”

And with that Isabelle floats off, leaving Kurt in a dazed state. He's going to panic, sooner or later, but for now he's still too stunned for it.

Right. His first action has to be to talk to the ensemble. The plan was to have the vocalist on three sets of three songs throughout the evening, but he's not entirely clear on what numbers had finally been picked. He will probably need to review lyrics up until the guests arrive, provided he can actually manage all of them. He's got a good range, yes, but that's not everything.

Oh, and he should swing by Isabelle's office and nab the blue west he'd spotted earlier – he'd dressed to fade against the wallpaper, not to be seen.

The first set goes well, as does the second. By the third and final he's lost enough of his nerves to let Isabelle drag him out on the floor instead of going off to hide as he'd initially planned. Several people drop by to talk, and he gets more than a few compliments. Maybe it's more about looking good to Isabelle than about actually liking it, but Kurt will take it anyway.

“So, you must be not just a talented singer but talented in fashion too for Isabelle to have taken you under her wing. Do you study fashion or music?”

The woman, Nadia something, asking sounds genuine and so Kurt gives her a small smile and answers as pleasantly as he can.

“Neither actually. I'm applying to NYADA though.”

There's a flash of something in her face, but Kurt can't quite make out what it is.

“For the spring semester? Ah.” She hesitates, sends a look towards where Isabelle is talking animatedly about something, and then looks at Kurt again.

“Can I be honest? Carmen Tibideaux is a very talented woman, in everything she does, and she's got an eye for picking out talent. However, she's also got a bit of a reputation.

“She loves to discover new talent that others overlook. Except every now and again she'll go about it in a rather underhanded way. She'll have someone audition, someone talented but a little raw around the edges. Someone with a ton of talent but a weak resumé, often with a little less self-esteem than most performers. She'll praise them and then turn them down. Most of the time they'll come back, looking for a second chance – she said they were great, right? Surely that means they'll get the part sooner or later, if they just approach it right.”

Kurt swallows. It sounds a little too familiar for comfort.

“Sometimes she'll turn them down both a second and third time, and then she'll put them on the spot, giving them another chance as long as they step out of their comfort zone and perform to her standards. And then she'll take them, and she'll own them. They'll go through their whole careers claiming they owe it all to her.”

She looks Kurt in the eyes, sincerity radiating out of her – but Kurt knows how little that means, in these circles – and a kind expression on her face.

“I'm not saying that's you, but for you to be applying to the spring semester, with your level of talent... If she's doing it to you, you should know you're not the first, and I doubt you'd be the last.

“Any school would be well served to have you as a student, I think. I already know you're talented, and as I know Isabelle I also know you have to be hardworking. Plus, seeing as that ensemble always works with a female vocalist I'm assuming something happened to have you step in at the last minute, meaning you stand up to pressure.

“NYADA is not the only school in New York for a young man like you, and I'd argue that it's not the best either. Think about what I've said, will you? And thank you again for a very enjoyable performance.”

It's only years of pretending in the face of bullies and a worried father that allows Kurt to pull of a believable goodbye and graceful exit. After this he's definitely hiding in Isabelle's office, damn it.

When Kurt comes back to the loft it's late and he wants nothing more to fall into bed, nighttime routines be damned. But Rachel's sitting on the couch, waiting for him judging from the expectant look on her face.

“I tried to call you.” It comes out a little flat, but Kurt doesn't have the energy to pretend. He needed her, called an emergency damn it, and she hasn't even texted him back in the six hours since his frantic calling.

“I heard, but I was busy practicing my number for tomorrow.” She doesn't even look sorry.

“Oh? I thought you said you didn't have any assignments for tomorrow.” That was why he'd felt safe calling her, after all.

She just waves a hand, clearly not too bothered.

“Nothing official, no, but that's no reason not to be ready to perform. I'm sure there will be an opening for me to dazzle my classmates.” And she goes on to describe the songs she's considered, and who's done them, and why her version is better, and Kurt just...tunes her out.

She hasn't even asked what he wanted. It's as if the thought hasn't even passed her mind. Well. If she's not interested then he's not going to waste his time telling her – especially not since she's bound to get upset over losing an opportunity to perform for an actual audience. He's also not going to waste his time listening to her go on about what she'd done instead of checking in on him.

“I'm going to bed.”

“Kurt! I need your input on this, surely bed can wait a bit?” When he shakes his head her face hardens. “Fine, be that way. NYADA is hard, you know. It takes dedication. Maybe if you showed a little more of that you would have gotten accepted.”

Kurt shoves down the desire to slap her and bites out a “goodnight” before stalking off to bed. He can't believe she went there. Oh wait, he can. It's so Rachel, to just look at herself and ignore everything else. Show more dedication? Devoid of complexity and depth. Fuck her. Fuck them both.

Kurt had knocked his audition out of the park. Rachel and madam Tibideaux both had admitted that. Meanwhile Rachel had choked. Yet he'd been rejected while Rachel fucking Berry swanned around NYADA claiming to be dedicated. She never should have gotten accepted based on her audition. And somehow he just knows that there's no way she'd admit that Kurt should have been given that spot, not her.

As for madam Tibideaux and her “I rarely give anyone a second chance and if I do it's on my terms”... Bah! Rachel had harassed her way into her second chance. Hell, she'd recruited several others to also harass the madam on her behalf.

But somehow Kurt reapplying was the foul thing here. Right.

Maybe it was time he looked at options other than NYADA. That woman at the vogue event, she'd said that other schools might be a better fit for him. She'd sounded like she knew what she was talking about. Unlike Kurt, honestly, who'd pinned his hopes on NYADA based on Rachel. Hindsight has him questioning if he'd been slipped something, because leaving his college education up to whatever Rachel wanted? Insanity.

Well. Insanity is doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result, right? Clearly it's time to change his approach.

O--o---o--O

A week later Rachel comes home from the NYADA Winter Showcase bubbling about her success and how she's taken them all by storm. She makes a snide comment or two about how Kurt should have been able to see it for himself, had he taken the ticket she'd gone through so much trouble to acquire for him instead of doing whatever (it's called work), and Kurt just nods. He doesn't really care, but. He has to at least pretend to listen to preserve peace in the loft.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Madam Tibideaux asked after you.”

Kurt stills like a dog scenting prey. This he wants to hear.

“Oh?”

“Yes, apparently she was considering giving you another chance at applying. I don't know why she had to do it tonight, as it's for NYADA students and you're not, but she did. You should probably contact her. If you apologize properly she might still be open to it.”

Rachel looks at him, waiting for a reaction and clearly not pleased with what she's seeing.

“Well?”

“I'll think about it, Rachel. Calm down.”

And he will. Only he's not too eager to apologize to madam Tibideaux, or give her another chance to toy with him and probably reject him (he didn't show up for what she had planned, after all). It all sounds very much like what Nadia described at the vogue event. He listened. He might not have liked what he heard, or wanted to believe it, but he listened. In more than one way.

Over the past seven days he's written half a dozen applications to various music schools in New York, and sent them out. His current favorite is the New School, where a tour of the campus has given him a very good vibe. He'd be happy there, he thinks, and they might be happy with him. At least that's his take from meeting a couple of faculty members, one of the more prestigious of which just so happens to be Nadia.

Who would have guessed that doing a favor for Isabelle would lead to this? He might just owe her even more by now. Fairy godmother indeed.

~ The End ~

#chocoholic fics #kurt hummel #isabelle wright #fixit

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berriusagi · 4 years ago

Text

Stomach Bug Ch7

Family Bonding: Jason

It’s my birthday so thought I’d give everyone this chapter early! I hope you all enjoy it I look forward to any comments or suggestions you have for the future chapters.

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If anyone was to ask Marinette how she found herself standing in a private gun range with a heavy pistol in hand aimed downrange at a cardboard cutout of a deranged clown she would have no idea how to answer. Jason was standing behind her leaning down to show her how to properly aim, fixing her grip and stance before holding her shoulders.

“Alright Pixie whenever you’re ready just pull the trigger.” Jason nodded straightening up once he was sure she was ready.

Marinette nodded, taking a slow deep breath before pulling the trigger. A loud bang sounded through the room as Marinette gently set the gun down. She turned looking up at Jason as she took her earplugs out. “How’d I do?” she asked.

Jason hummed squinting his eyes trying to see, “I don’t know if you hit it,” he said, stepping around to walk on the range to get a better look at the cutout. “Yeah sorry pixie doesn’t look like you hit it,” he shouted heading back to stand behind her.

“I told you I’m not that familiar with guns. It's next to impossible to get a gun let alone shoot one in Paris.” Marinette said putting her ear plus back in as Jason picked the gun up.

“That’s why I’ll teach you to shoot,” Jason grinned, fixing his safety glasses before unloading the clip into the cutout. Marinette watched as small groupings gathered around the forehead, heart, and groin. “It just takes a bit of practice and a steady hand and you’ll be a natural in no time.” He smiled as he fired the last bullet before setting the gun down.

“I’m just not sure if guns are my thing,” Marinette said as Jason walked onto the range again to pick up the cut out and bring it back so they could examine the groupings, “I never took an interest in firearms, though most weapons are illegal in Paris.”

“Really? What about self-defense?” Jason asked looking down at Marinette.

“Most people would have pepper spray but it had to be less than 100 milliliters.” She shrugged, “I usually had a small can in my purse just in case luckily I only ever had to use it once.”

“Oh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, “What happened to make you do that?”

“The heroes back home were sociable. Ladybug would give interviews and Chat Noir liked to joke with the public. Chat made a habit of dropping by my room to hang out and just talk; sometimes it was just chilling, other times he wanted advice. He was a great guy really it helped break up the routine you know.” She smiled leaning on the wall, helping Jason load bullets into the clips, “Eventually he started just coming into my room through my skylight and hung out on my chaise lounge until I got home if I wasn’t there.”

“That’s a red flag if I ever saw one,” Jason muttered, setting a clip down.

“Yeah well, I was lonely at the time my class was shunning me so any social interaction was a welcomed one. I didn’t mind though I did find it annoying when he’d try and bug me to get into Ladybug’s good graces.” She sighed rolling her eyes, “I managed to set up an interview with Ladybug for one of my ex-friends and Chat thought we were such good friends so I could put in a good word for him. I told him I wouldn’t and that Ladybug probably just wasn’t interested and he should respect that.”

“I’m guessing no one ever taught him to take no for an answer?” Jason asked looking over at Marinette as she just shrugged.

“I guess, he had it stuck in his head that he and Ladybug were soulmates because of their miraculous’ no matter how many times I or Ladybug explained that it didn’t work like that. Everything came to a head after the fall of Hawkmoth. He was publicly revealed along with Mayura, his partner, both were arrested and their families suffered from the fallout.” She set down her finished clip and crossed her arms over her chest, “Chat Noir paid me a visit about a month or so after, he… he wasn’t looking too good.”

Jason set down the gun he was working on and moved to stand beside Marinette placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I told you he had a habit of just coming into my room to wait for me,” she said her voice going a bit soft as she glanced up at Jason, “My room was a converted attic space with a balcony that you access through the skylight. To get into my room you climbed a ladder and entered through a trapdoor, it’s a good space for privacy but it’s not so great if you have to escape.”

Jason tightened his hold on her gently pulling her into his side rubbing her back arm.

“When I came up I saw my skylight was open so Chat had to be in there but I didn’t see him, that made me a little worried but I chose not to listen to it and came up anyway. Once I was fully in he closed the door and trapped me inside, he… he looked different less… stable his eyes, which normally because of the Miraculous were a toxic green, looked bloodshot like he’d been crying. He wasn’t moving with the same playful easy steps he looked unbalanced. Everything just felt wrong like this wasn’t going to end well.”

“I reached for the pepper spray I keep in my bag and had it at the ready just in case and I tried talking to him. I asked him what was wrong, I asked him why he looked so unsettled, I tried just talking to him to get a response, but he wouldn’t even look in my direction. It was like it pained him to even look at me. Eventually, he did look at me and he was just crying, he was apologizing over and over and his words made no sense. I was terrified. He made me feel like he was going to do something awful. It was like he wasn’t anything like the same person.”

Jason slid down the wall to be eye level with Marinette squeezing a bit tighter to give her comfort as she tried to find the words to continue.

“He looked at me, no he looked through me it felt like and just lunged at me. I was so scared I just sprayed him without thinking and quickly jumped out of the way. I remember hearing him scream in pain and rubbing at his eyes as he cried. It’s burned into my memory he looked at me with such pain and sorrow on his face I felt awful for what I did. The pepper spray just fell from my hands and without thinking I grabbed a scrap of fabric and some water and started to clean his face. I just couldn’t stand and watch him suffer.”

“You’re better than most Pixie,” Jason muttered, patting her shoulder.

“Chat revealed himself,” She said before quickly rushing to correct herself when she felt Jason’s body tense, “Not like that! I mean he took off the mask he showed me who his civilian self was. He dropped the transformation and revealed himself to be a boy I knew quite well and he was the son of Hawkmoth. It made so much sense then, he… he was suffering so much having to fight a war against his father. Then when the war is over he still has to fight to prove his own innocents, it had to have just been too much.”

“He took off his miraculous and gave it to me, told me to give it to Ladybug. He didn’t think Ladybug would want anything to do with him if she saw who he was. If she knew he was the son of the man they were trying to take down, he said it would break him worse to see her hate him or worse pity him.”

“So he gave his miraculous to you, someone who has some connection to Ladybug, to get it somewhere safe.” Jason hummed leaning his head back against the wall, “How is he doing?”

“A few weeks later he left Paris and moved in with his aunt and cousin. He was a good guy just mixed up with the wrong people, he was very sheltered and was raised to be seen not heard. I debate some days on reaching out to him, seeing how he’s doing, maybe catch up and rebuild the friendship we had. He’s dating one of my friends and she occasionally gives me updates about him that she thinks I need to know.”

“Well, Pixie if you ask me I say shoot him a text. He trusted you enough to unmask himself and show his most vulnerable side to you. If there’s one thing I know is that you keep those loyal to you close, I don’t know the full story with this guy. He might have hurt you, he might not have but he came to you at his weakest and trusted you enough to help him.” He said straightening up and pulled her into a firm hug, “I know you’ll make the right choice for you, I feel like you got a good handle on making the right choices.”

“Thanks, Jay,” she smiled hugging him back, “You have any other guns we can shoot, maybe I’m just not good with handguns.”

“I like the way you think Pixie.” He grinned pushing off the wall and went over to the gun cabinet opening it wide for her to see the array of handguns, rifles, and shotguns for them to choose from, “Alright pixie, pick your poison.”

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“You make absolutely no sense you know that right Pixie?” Jason asked watching as Marinette grinned up at him after landing a headshot on another deranged clown cut out with the shotgun. “I mean the kickback alone on that thing should be sending you back.” He said as Marinette set the gun down giggling at Jason’s confusion.

“Well with shotgun it doesn’t have to be as accurate right?” she asked, rubbing her shoulder, “It’s scattershot so it makes it more forgiving.”

“I guess but let’s call it on that before you bust up your shoulder or bruise it.” He said taking the shotgun storing it away in the gun cabinet as Alfred came in to check on them.

“Master Jason, Miss Marinette are you two having fun?” Alfred asked, noticing all the empty shells on the floor.

“Yeah, Jason just showed me how to shoot a shotgun.” Marinette smiled, “Though my shoulder is a bit sore now.” She said rubbing it a bit harder wincing at the deep ache.

“Perhaps you two should call it quits for today and do something less… explosive.” Alfred offered, “All this gunfire can’t be good for the baby let alone quiet. I heard the shotgun from the other side of the manor.” He added before leaving.

“Well,” Jason hummed, closing the cabinet, “We should run.” He grinned picking Marinette up and broke into a dead sprint out of the gun range and through the winding halls. Marinette held on tightly a surprised shout echoing through the halls as he skidded around a corner before running for the other side of the manor.

“Just how big is this place?” Marinette asked looking around wide-eyed as they raced through the halls.

“I don’t know but I’m like 80 percent sure if someone broke in here it’d take them a week to find their way out.” Jason joked as he slowed down to a large set of double doors gently pushing the doors open before closing them tightly behind him before gently setting Marinette down on her feet, “We should be safe here for a little while though at least until Alfred comes to find us for dinner.”

“Where is here?” Marinette asked looking around a soft gasp coming from her mouth as she saw all the books lining the shelves.

“Welcome to my favorite place, the Wayne Manor Library.” Jason smiled walking to one of the shelves and plucked a book off before finding a comfortable plush chair to relax in, “Have a look around, find something to read, or if you want there are puzzles and board games in that cabinet over there.” He added motioning to a cabinet in the corner.

Marinette wandered around the shelves looking over the books, she noticed some were much more loved than others as they have visible use while others looked to be brand new. She eventually settled on a well-loved adventure book and carried it back over to the chairs and took a seat near Jason as she curled up to read.

The following few hours were much calmer than the previous bonding activity, instead of a loud bang to hurt the ears there were jokes and laughs about the antics the protagonists in their books got up to. Marinette smiled from her position lying upside down on the chair with her head hanging off as she read lines from her book.

“Before you leave Gabriel may I offer you some key advice before you go to visit the Sirodanes?” Marinette spoke her voice lowered and accented to sound like a Viking man, “Take a larger cart they value strength as well.” she finished before bursting into giggles.

“So wait,” Jason chuckled looking over at her, “Gabriel and Eclipse are leaving the Vryhuns with a big cart just full of presents, and the Thane is telling them they need a bigger one?” he smiled.

“Yeah from what I gathered the Vryhun are really big on strength and bravery which Eclipse had in spades so everyone was trying to court her, so they all gave her presents. It’s rude to just turn them down or throw them away so instead they’re taking them with them.” Marinette giggled sitting up and closed the book setting it aside, “Though if the Sirodanes are the same I feel a bit sorry for Eclipse she’ll never get any peace from the suitors.”

“I don’t know, maybe she likes the attention I mean, she stuck around Gabriel and all he seems to do is fawn over her and shower her in praise.” Jason said, closing his book and set it aside, “Who’s to say she isn’t using all these presents to make Gabriel jealous.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrow.

“Oh what a semi-immortal woman can’t hang around an eccentric man who is determined to explore some hidden islands in the middle of uncharted waters?” Marinette asked, raising an eyebrow, “Not everyone has to date you know, and besides I don’t think Gabriel could handle Eclipse in a romantic setting.”

“Eh you got me there she seems really dominant.” Jason chuckled leaning back in his seat, “Though which did you like more sitting here reading or shooting?”

“Hmm I like both; this was a nice way to wind down after the shooting and I got to find a new book series to read.” She smiled looking at the book, “Do you have the others?”

“Probably unless the author is still working on them.” He shrugged, getting up from his seat and grabbing his books, going over to the shelves to put them away. Marinette relaxed in her chair taking a deep breath as she sunk into the plush cushions further the calm and quiet helping to lull her into a semi-conscious state.

Jason came back after a while noticing Marinette barely awake and smiled grabbing a blanket and set it over her before taking his seat again and picked up another book nearby to keep reading. The library fell into a soft silence with only Marinette’s gentle breathing and the occasional rustle of paper as Jason turned the pages.

~.~.~.~

“Now tell me why you thought it would be wise to leave Todd alone with Marinette.” Damian grit out through clenched teeth as he gripped his sword tightly. “In what world is it ever a smart idea to leave Todd alone with anyone?” he growled.

“Now it can’t be that bad Little D.,” Dick said, keeping his hands up in a calming manner as Tim stayed behind him, “I’m sure everything is okay.”

“We all heard the shotgun, Grayson.” Damian snapped, advancing only stopped by a loud clearing of the throat.

All three turned and looked at Alfred standing in the doorway, “Master Damian please refrain from causing your brother’s bodily harm in the house, blood is quite hard to get out of antique rugs.” He said looking at Damian as he lowered his sword still glaring at the other two, “Now I’ve come to inform you that Miss. Marinette and Master Jason have vacated the gun range. I do believe they are now hiding out in the library so rest assured they are no longer doing any dangerous activities.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Tim nodded as Damian visibly relaxed knowing Marinette was no longer alone with Jason and firearms.

“Now I must go begin preparations for dinner, please do try to not harm each other.” Alfred nodded before making his way out of the room and down to the kitchen.

Once Alfred was far away Damian looked over at his two brothers with a cold death glare, “If anything is out of place on Marinette thanks to you allowing her to be alone with Jason unsupervised for hours. I will make it my life’s goal to make you regret ever entering this manor.”

“She’s fine Jason isn’t that bad,” Dick said, trying to calm Damian down.

“He cut Tim’s throat.” He snapped.

“It was an accident!” Tim shouted before getting a pained expression, “Maybe, look, it was house rules not to bring up shared traumas.” He glared.

“Okay, how about we all calm down and go to the library and just see how everything is doing? What could they possibly do in the library but read or play a card game.” Dick said trying to placate his two youngest brothers.

“Fine.” Damian glared putting his sword away stalking out of the room.

Dick and Tim exchanged glances before following behind him keeping a few paced behind to not receive his wrath once more. They silently made their way through the halls until coming to the double doors of the library. Damian pushed the doors open looking around until his eyes landed on Marinette curled up in a chair with a blanket over her and Jason seated near her reading.

Jason looked up and waved at them putting his book aside, “Hey guys Pixie’s just taking a quick nap.” He smiled keeping his voice low.

“Todd, care to explain why we heard gunshots.” Damian glared as he quickly headed for Marinette.

“Hmm could be because I showed her how to shoot.” Jason shrugged grinning wide, “She’s a natural, she shot Joker's head off like three times.” he chuckled.

“You let her use the shotgun?!” Dick gasped looking horrified, “Jason she is five foot and pregnant what made you think that was a good idea?” he hissed.

“Can you all keep it down?” Marinette groaned, blinking her eyes open, “this is a library.”

“Habibti, are you okay? You’re not bruised or burned anywhere right?” Damian asked, trying to look her over.

“I’m fine Dami, just a sore shoulder but I’ll live.” She yawned shifting around to sit up properly, “It was a lot of fun but don’t know if I’ll keep up shooting it’s really loud.” she hummed.

“How about you do not do any more shooting until after the baby is born and you’re all healed up,” Damian said sitting in the chair with Marinette pulling her to sit across his lap.

“Fine no more guns,” Marinette giggled rolling her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder. Damian nodded content with that and relaxed back in the chair. They all fell into comfortable chatter talking about what they were all getting up to; however, it felt more like an interrogation for Jason about just what he was having Marinette shoot.

Marinette watched on in amusement as the three eldest seemed ready to go to war over letting her shoot some guns. All too soon the library doors opened as Alfred entered calling their attention, “Dinner is ready young masters.” He said bowing before exiting the room making his way down to the kitchen.

“Well, I think today has been a lot of fun.” Marinette smiled climbing out of Damian's lap stretching her back out, “I might actually get a good night's sleep tonight.” She added before she made her way out of the library the boys following behind her like overgrown ducklings. Soon everyone was taking their seats at the table and settled in to enjoy their dinner.

Everyone was eating and having fun chatting about different topics, Jason couldn’t stop talking about Marinette’s skill with a shotgun, Dick had to make sure he praised her on her flexibility, and Tim just noted her keen eyes and how perceptive she was. Marinette blushed and smiled at all the praise trying to deflect as much as possible. At some point Bruce had snuck in and watched all the children eat and share stories, he smiled softly just enjoying the chatter and pleasant atmosphere.

All too soon dinner was over and everyone was going their separate ways for their evening routines, Marinette made her way to Damian’s room and gathered her clothes before heading in to take a shower. She set her clothes down on the counter as Tikki reappeared stretching out as she layout on top of Marinette’s pajamas.

“Sorry to keep you locked up all day,” she said as she turned the shower on and waited for the water to warm up, “We can’t risk the others seeing you.”

“I know Marinette at least now I can stretch out and relax.” Tikki hummed relaxing on the soft fabric, “when you bake in the morning can I get white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies?” she asked looking up at Marinette.

“If they have the ingredients to make it then yes,” Marinette smiled and hopped into the shower to clean up from the day taking her time to gently wash her hair and scrub off all the sweat and grime from the day. Once she was cleaned and wrapped up in a fluffy bathrobe she was nearly asleep on her feet as she took her time to blow dry her hair until it fell in gentle waves down her back.

Tikki had fallen asleep during Marinette’s shower so she gently picked her up and set her down on a few folded towels so she could get dressed. Marinette gathered Tikki up and carried her out to her purse and gently laid her down placing a handkerchief over her like a blanket before gently kissing her forehead and moved to lie in bed and get some much-needed sleep.

Damian came in not long after Marinette had turned in for the night and smiled before going about his own evening routine and climbed into bed giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead before laying back pulling her to his chest as he fell asleep.

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@myazael @beautiful-disasters-sunshine @moonlightstar64 @moonlitceleste @stainedglassm @casual-darkness @mochegato @ultimatetornshipper @heemsanddamemes @nathleigh @qualitypeacepainter @raven-frost-21 @maskedpainter @demonicbusiness @dood-space @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @indecisive-mess-named-me @changelinggarden @zerotosiki @alysrose-starchild @s-and-n @wolf2118 @athena452 @jjmjjktth @eliza-bich @solangelo252

#daminette #damianette #damidad #mominette #maribat #maridami #ml x dc #teen pregnancy #stomach bug

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flowercrown-bard · 4 years ago

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To give without knowing (1/ ?)

Inspired by YorkandDelta <3

pairing: Geraskier

word count: 2k

summary: Jaskier finds a wooden figure Geralt had carved and thrown away in the woods and thinks it’s a gift from the fae

read on AO3

Witchers didn’t carry pretty trinkets and momentos with them. What use would they be? All they did was take up too much space in the bags and get in the way. So Geralt made a point not to get attached. Not to places, not to people and not to objects that weren’t strictly necessary for his survival. Least of all he got attached to the small wooden animals he found himself carving whenever he was alone with his thoughts and certain that no one was around to watch him craft them. Which happened less and less these days, ever since meeting the bard that refused to leave his side and was doing everything in his power to get Geralt to grow attached to him.

On the rare occasions that Jaskier was away, playing at some court or visiting his friends, Geralt found himself carving the little animals with more vigour than he had before he had met the bard, as if the scraping of the blade scratching over the wood was replacing the noise the bard was taking with him whenever he left. If Geralt were a man of pretty words and poetry he might have looked at the figures he carved to fill the silence left by his friend's absence and thought it poetic and meaningful in a way. But Geralt wasn't a poet. He was a witcher and witchers didn't give objects meaning. They didn’t grow attached. So he dropped the useless figures after finishing them on the forest floor and forgot about them. He didn't care about what happened to them. Didn’t care that he would never see them again. Until one day in early spring he found himself caring more than he'd ever thought possible.

Geralt had just closed his eyes, enjoying the thought of a quiet night of rest in an actual bed at an inn after a day of a brutal fight when the door was thrown open unceremoniously. Geralt cranked one eye open and shot a glare at the bard - dressed in obnoxious colours and with a smile that really shouldn't be so blinding - striding into the room. "You couldn't have knocked?" Geralt grunted, hoping his tone would hide the way his lips wanted to lift into a smile at the sight of his friend. The winter had been too long and if Geralt’s protesting muscles hadn’t made him aware of the movement he had made to get up, he would have probably tried to do something stupid like hug the bard. As it were, the only greeting Jaskier received after all the time spend apart was a grunt and a nod. Jaskier didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his face brightened at the familiar mannerisms. "I think we both know that if I had knocked you would have told me to fuck off. But now that you are in my wonderful presence you would never dare do that." "Jaskier," Geralt said, looking Jaskier deep in the eyes. "Fuck off." Jaskier threw his head back laughing. "Not a chance. We both know you're happy to see me." Geralt rolled his eyes but didn't deny the accusation. He couldn't tell if Jaskier noticed. His friend was too occupied putting his lute down and letting himself fall onto the bed with a content sigh. "Oh the joys of uncomfortable inn-beds," Jaskier groaned, running a hand down his face. "You are free to sleep on the floor," Geralt said with a bemused grin. "Aha!“ Jaskier shot back up and pointed a finger triumphantly at Geralt's nose. "So you do want me to share the room with you!" Of course I do. Geralt huffed and crossed his arms. "You wouldn't leave no matter what I said." Somehow Jaskier's smile got even brighter and Geralt's mouth went dry. "You know me too well, dear friend." Geralt hummed non-committally. Jaskier seemed to take it as a sign to start unpacking. Geralt leaned back and listened with closed eyes to the sound that had become routine; the noise of Jaskier bustling about, of the fabric of his night clothes unfolding, of Jaskier chattering away as he found the best spot to put his lute. It all sounded painfully like returning someplace safe.

For a foolish moment Geralt let himself imagine that they weren't at an inn, but in a place they could call home. The illusion and the routine were disrupted by a noise that didn't belong to their normalcy; the dull thud of wood on wood. Geralt opened his eyes again. His breath got stuck on his throat when he saw what Jaskier had put on the night stand. It was a chunky wooden figure of a bear, the wood unpolished and weakened by rain. The craftsmanship was clumsy at best and Geralt knew exactly why: because this figure had been carved with a dagger I stead of the appropriate carving tools. More specifically, Geralt's dagger. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the little bear. His little bear. No, not his. He had no use for these kinds of things. They didn't mean anything to him after he left them in the woods to rot. And yet... The thought of Jaskier having found one of them didn't sit right with Geralt. It did something strange and uncomfortable to his chest. It shouldn't bother him as it did, but he couldn't help but wish Jaskier had never seen Geralt's clumsy attempts at crafting something beautiful. Not when Jaskier himself was a master of creating beautiful things; weaving flower crowns with clever fingers and spinning tales and songs with his silver tongue. Geralt's eyes flickered up to Jaskier who had gone strangely still. Their eyes met and for a terrifying moment Geralt was certain Jaskier knew. He knew that Geralt was the one who had made this imperfect thing that wasn't worth picking up and Jaskier was mocking him with it. Geralt's stomach clenched painfully and he was overcome with the sudden need to flee. But then Jaskier's eyes crinkled with his brilliant smile and a wave of giddy excitement rolled off of him. "It's pretty isn't it?" Jaskier said and took the figure in hand again, holding it up as if to inspect it more closely. "I can't believe I finally found one too." Geralt stared at him dumbfounded. "Too?" "Why of course. Sometimes I think I'm the only one who hasn't been blessed by the forest spirits." Geralt's brows drew together. Jaskier must have noticed his confusion - or maybe he was just happy to talk and have Geralt listen - for he began to explain with shining eyes. "Those figures appear all over. Mostly in forests but sometimes they appear on the road as well. People have been finding them for decades. Have you never noticed how people put them on mantle pieces or carry them with them for protection?" Geralt schooled his face into neutral expression while his mind was racing. He had never intended for anyone to find his carvings. He had never wanted anyone to find them. They were... They didn't mean anything. There was no reason for people - for Jaskier - to get so excited about them. "They say that it's the fae's way of showing their favour,” Jaskier continued, unaware of Geralt’s inner turmoil. “The figures bring luck to those who find them. Well, at least that's one version of the tale. Over in Brugge they say that the figures are charmed and protect the bearer. One of my old teachers in Oxenfurt always said that someone who finds a wooden animal in the woods is bound to get together with their true love within a year. I always liked that version the best. What do you think, is this the year I finally get my true love?"

Jaskier winked at Geralt and nudged him playfully in the ribs. Geralt's mouth went dry and he forced himself to look away from the way Jaskier's eyes lit up. He told himself the only reason why his stomach was churning was because Jaskier would be disappointed when he realised that there was no magic in these carvings. It had nothing to do with the thought of Jaskier finding someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and leave Geralt for them. "Fae would never show their favour to humans. If those things," he nodded his chin to the bear, "were made by the fae they would probably bear a curse. And they would be prettier," he added in a tone that wasn't meant sound that bitter. Jaskier gasped outraged and clutched the bear to his chest as if that could protect it. "How dare you!" he half-shouted in a voice if utter indignation. "I'll have you know that my little bear is perfect. And it does bring luck. After all, I found you mere hours after finding it." Jaskier lifted his chin triumphantly as if he had won an argument. Geralt huffed. "You call that lucky?" It came out more as a grumble than the playful tone he had aimed for. Geralt hadn't meant it to sound so dismissive, but it was better than letting the softness that rose up in him at Jaskier’s words creep into his voice instead. "Yes I do," Jaskier said with a finality that didn't allow any more protests. "And I would appreciate it if you could stop scowling at it as if you wanted to smash it." Geralt turned away with a shrug that looked more nonchalant than he felt. "I don't care what happens to it," he repeated the thoughts he had had so many times before and that for the first time might be a lie, "It's just a piece of wood. Nothing special about it." "I beg to differ. It's quite special to me." There was something in the way Jaskier said it so softly that made it hard to breath. Something unpleasant squirmed in Geralt's chest. He risked another glance at Jaskier who was looking down at the figure in his hand as if it was something to be treasured. It shouldn't feel so nice to have Jaskier hold something Geralt had made and look at it as if it was precious. It felt as if Geralt had given him a gift. Except, if Geralt actually had done that Jaskier wouldn't look at the figure with shining eyes. He wouldn’t smile like that if he knew who it really was from. No one wanted a gift from a witcher. Least of all Jaskier who had admirers sending him expensive doublets, bottles of wine and other luxuries a witcher wouldn’t be able to afford in his wildest dreams. Anything Geralt would have been able to offer Jaskier would have been nothing in comparison. So Geralt did the only thing he could and always pushed the thought of buying Jaskier nice things as far away from his mind as possible. Trying to gift Jaskier beautiful things that might make him happy was bound to fail for someone like Geralt. But here was Jaskier, stroking a finger absentmindedly over the wood as if it was polished and smooth. Geralt cleared his throat. "I'm glad you like it then." That seemed to content Jaskier, for he rewarded Geralt with a dazzling smile and put the little figure back in the nightstand right in Geralt's line of vision. Jaskier probably did it out of some sense of petty smugness, but as night fell and the little bear that for some reason meant so much to Jaskier watched over them, Geralt couldn't help but feel warm. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't so bad if his figures had found their way to a poet after all who could give meaning to them. Maybe sometimes tall tales of fae gifts and blessings from forest spirits helped bring a smile to a bard’s face and bring him some happiness that Geralt wouldn’t have been able to give him otherwise.

Next to him Jaskier turned over in his sleep and pressed his forehead against the space between Geralt’s shoulder blades, sighing contently. Under the curtain of the night Geralt allowed himself a little smile.

Maybe sometimes it wasn’t so bad to get attached after all.

#I'll probably write a second chapter #maybe #geraskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt #jaskier #witcher #witcher fic #fanfic #my writing

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years ago

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Libel

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Scott, John

Words are powerful weapons. It doesn’t matter how popular you are when the rumour mill turns against you.

Day three “Sticks and stones may break my bones but...” of @whumptober-archive and we’re using the prompts insults and “Who did this to you?” today. Romantic trouble ahead, with cheating and nasty false accusations.

Scott slouched against the wall, feeling the cool but rough texture of the bricks pressing against the bare skin of his arms. The day had been hell from beginning to end, and now he just wanted to go home, but it was a Tuesday and Tuesdays were special.

On a Wednesday and Thursday, he had to leave school the moment class let out to pick up Alan from daycare, because Grandma had her own commitments that she couldn’t reschedule and Dad was always too busy with work. On Mondays and Fridays, John stayed behind for extra classes, so Scott would go home alone – or hang out with friends, or-

Well.

On Tuesdays, John had no extra classes, Grandma was free to pick up Alan, and Scott’s schedule was clear, so they made a point of going home together. It was a routine they’d settled into almost immediately, and Scott enjoyed the quiet time with just his immediate brother before they returned to the chaos that was the rest of their family.

John’s last class was the far end of the campus from the gates, so Scott always made it to the meeting point first by a few minutes. Sometimes several, if the quiet ginger got caught up talking to a teacher about an assignment, which happened more often than not. Today, he’d been waiting for five, and there was yet to be a sign of him.

Today had been rotten. Scott didn’t want to still be on campus, conscious of all the eyes boring into him as his year mates moved past in packs. None of their gazes were friendly; several were outright hostile, and he pressed back a little further into the wall of the math block in a vain attempt to escape.

His phone was in his hand, a message typed out by trembling fingers and waiting to be sent.

Sorry, something came up. I’ll see you at home.

A thumb hovered over the send key. All it had to do was descend and then he could slip away from the hoards and their accusing eyes. Escape from school and hide out in the woods for a while to try and come to terms with exactly what had happened before slinking home in time for dinner.

It would spare him John’s reaction for a little while longer, too.

But while John never said it in so many words, Scott knew that he looked forwards to their once-a-week walk home, too. He’d be disappointed if Scott bailed on him – and confused, because Scott hadn’t bailed on him once all year, despite occasional social invites. With four brothers, one-on-one time with any of them was precious, and Scott was always at loath to give it up.

“Sorry I’m late.” John was talking even before he rounded the corner to their meeting place, and Scott dropped the phone back into his pocket, unsent message still taking up the screen. He hadn’t decided in time, or maybe he subconsciously just wanted to get the judgement over with. “Mr Kemp-”

Scott looked up as his brother’s voice cut off, unable to muster even a faint grin at the sight of him. Turquoise eyes were wide with horror as John stared, whatever Mr Kemp had said or done immediately forgotten.

“Hey, John,” he greeted. His voice fell flat even to his own ears, and he watched as John stashed the tablet perpetually in his hand into his messenger bag before he hurried the last few paces towards him.

A pale hand rose up and lingered in front of his face, not quite touching as it traced something on his skin. The black eye that had swollen his left eye almost shut, probably.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was glacier cold, and barely above a whisper. It was less a question and more a demand – a copy of Scott’s own attitude whenever he found out someone was hurting his brothers.

John always was observant.

“It doesn’t matter.” It wasn’t a story Scott wanted to tell to anyone, and if it hadn’t spread far enough through the school to reach John’s ears during the day, then he wasn’t about to provide a second wind. “Let’s get out of here.” He pushed off from the brick wall, gallantly ignoring the screaming protests of his battered body at the idea of moving.

Scott was pretty sure there was nothing serious, it just hurt and no doubt his skin was varying shades of bruised.

“Scott,” John warned, but he didn’t try to stop him. Maybe he knew that Scott needed to get out – then again, Scott suspected that he was broadcasting that painfully loudly to his brother.

They left the safety of their meeting point and joined the throng headed for the gate.

“Bastard.” It wasn’t clear where the word came from, but it was from somewhere in the masses of teenagers they were forging through.

“Creep.”

“Sick.”

“Filthy.”

“Slut.”

Each word, each insult, crashed into him and suffocated him a little more. It hurt, pain adding onto the pain that had started it all in the first place – hurt more than his physical wounds, an almost-negligible throbbing that would probably make its presence known sharply once the haze of disbelief and emotional impact faded.

Beside him, John seemed to stand a little straighter, a little taller in a reversal of their usual stances, where the ginger was the one that tended to aim for invisibility and Scott was the one that strode ahead purposefully. He cut a swathe through the milling, jeering crowds, forcing a path to open up for them. If Scott could look anywhere other than the stained, chewing-gum riddled tarmac, he suspected he might find that John’s face was thunderous enough to cut through even the upperclassmen he usually ignored.

He was jostled suddenly, someone crashing into his shoulder hard enough to drive him staggering into John, and the cacophony of noise continued as he stumbled back upright with his brother’s hand now lightly holding his arm. In his periphery, he saw John pluck his own phone out of his bag. For a moment his brother did nothing about whatever was on the screen, but then he was tapping out a message Scott couldn’t read before sliding his phone away again.

His other hand didn’t leave Scott’s arm. Not when they reached the gate, and Scott stumbled over a stray ankle suddenly in his path, or when they passed it and a moped sped past close enough that he could hear the rider’s snarled insults over the roaring engine.

Not even when he diverted from their route home all of a sudden, nudging Scott down a narrow alley that led towards the woods, losing the crowds and replacing them with large, old trees packed closely enough together that the casual observer couldn’t see between them.

It was Scott’s favourite place to retreat when he needed his own space, and John – unsurprisingly – knew that.

“Scott, what happened?” John drew them to a halt under the reaching arms of a particularly large tree, branches thick and low and almost forming a cavern of brown and green.

He shook his head, not sure he could trust his voice not to betray him. The soft fingers left his arm, and John moved to stand directly in front of him. Scott looked at the ground, littered with broken twigs and the occasional fallen leaf, rather than meet his eyes.

He should’ve known better than to hope John would leave it alone.

“Something happened with Christie.”

It was too confident to be a guess, but that was John all over, putting the facts together and reaching the logical conclusions.

Scott sank down to the ground, his bag landing heavily beside him. John followed more gracefully, crouching in front of him.

“Did she dump you?”

The noise that forced its way out of Scott’s throat was best described as strangled laughter, driven by despair rather than humour. “No.” The word cracked in half.

Morning recess, leaving the cafeteria with her favourite chocolate in hand as a surprise. Rounding a corner into the locker corridor. Christie with her tongue down another boy’s throat, top riding up indecently high with the guy’s hand clearly snaking inside her bra.

Heartbreak.

“I ended it.”

His brother inhaled sharply. “What did she do?”

What didn’t she do? Breaking his heart was just the start; he was popular, but so was she, and the person who cried out that they were a victim first was almost always the one believed.

Popularity meant nothing against the rumour mill, and something Scott had never realised was how good an actress Christie was. While he’d spent the rest of recess hidden away, choking out tears of betrayal and shock, she’d-

He didn’t even know why she’d done it. It felt like a revenge tactic, but Scott had no idea what she was avenging, why she was suddenly so determined to ruin him.

Coming back to class, eyes still stinging, to find metaphorical daggers pressed to his throat by every student in the room, had been a shock. Christie had been sobbing into the chest of Peter, a boy Scott normally got on with fine but suddenly looked like he wanted nothing better than to murder him where he stood.

It wasn’t until lunch time that he found out what she’d told everyone, letting the story spread like wildfire across their year group until Scott was the scum of the earth in the eyes of everyone.

She’d dumped him, the rumour mill said even though Scott knew for certain that he’d been the one to tell her we’re over while fighting back tears. The chocolates had fallen to the floor and he had the stain on one sneaker to prove he’d accidentally stepped on them, too. She’d dumped him, she’d claimed amongst floods of tears and ruined makeup, for pushing too far, for ignoring her boundaries, for taking more than she was willing to give.

They’d never even got as far as she had with the random guy he didn’t know in the corridor.

“I- I can’t,” he choked out, tears spilling out and stinging his cheeks as they slid down. He swiped at them, trying in vain to hide them from the little brother regarding him with an ever-growing fury he knew wasn’t aimed at him.

“Tell me who beat you,” John insisted, thankfully changing tack although Scott knew the topic of Christie was only temporarily shelved. “Did you see the nurse?”

Christie had two brothers, twins in their final year and both demons on the football pitch. They’d always been reasonably chill towards Scott, at least much as older brothers would be, but just like any decent big brothers, took the distress of younger siblings very seriously.

They also had several friends who likewise adored sweet, charming Christie.

Even if he wasn’t still reeling from finding his now-ex girlfriend shacking up with another guy, Scott would never have stood a chance against the pack of upperclassmen. Stunned by the accusations hurtled his way, he’d been easy pickings.

He shook his head.

“Scott…” John swallowed and slender fingers brushed against the side of his face, where he was no doubt a deep purple from the fist that had crashed into it. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but if that crowd at the gate were anything to go buy, it’s only a matter of time before the whole school hears something. I can’t help if I don’t know what we’re up against.”

“We?” The word slipped out without permission, a startle against his brother’s proclamation. “No- John- This-”

“They hurt you.” John’s voice was laced with stubborn steel. “I doubt Grandma’s going to let you out of her sight for the rest of the week at least. Talk to me, Scott.”

He shook his head. The tears kept flowing, periodically yanking sobs from his throat; each one had him hunching over further, coiled across his tender abdomen as he continued wiping away the salty liquid to no avail.

John edged closer, slender hands gripping his shoulders lightly. “I’m here,” he promised. “I’m here, and I’m not letting them hurt you again.”

It shouldn’t be a younger brother reassuring an elder – that went against the rules engrained deep within him – but John was exuding confidence and protectiveness in a way that was reassuring. After a day of being destroyed both emotionally and literally, the tattered remains of Scott’s psyche found themselves clinging to every word and gesture.

It was enough to, haltingly, summarise the story. No details, no explanations, just a shaking recounting of how she’d cheated on him, how she’d fuelled the rumour mill, how her brothers had reacted.

The hug his brother pulled him into, gentle and warm but firm and protective, promised safety and love. Promised that John believed him, a fear he hadn’t even realised was lurking until it was dismissed.

"You’re not going in tomorrow,” John told him. “Not with these injuries, and not with that mob. Grandma will back me up on that.”

Scott wanted to protest, but even the thought of walking back into school again, with the hissed words following him and aura of menace honing in on him, was enough to have his heartrate picking up like a rabbit’s. He said nothing.

John didn’t need him to, and the two of them sat in near-silence, wind rustling the leaves and tears dripping from his eyes onto his brother’s shoulder.

He had no idea how long they stayed like that as his tear ducts ran dry and eyes transformed into crusty, stinging messes. Eventually, John pulled back slightly.

“Ready to go home?” his brother asked.

No. No, Scott was not ready to go home and face his family looking like this, but he didn’t have a choice. They’d find out sooner rather than later, and the longer he and John took to get back, the more Grandma would worry.

She was probably already frantic, he realised as his vision focused enough to register that dusk was hitting. They must have missed dinner.

“Don’t worry.” John pulled out his phone. “I told Grandma we’d be back late.” Scott caught a glimpse of Scott’s upset, we’ll be back late, and an answering I’ll save you some dinner, don’t stay out too long, amongst several messages of concern from her in the interim. The timestamps were from just after he’d met up with John after school – long before he’d started talking to his brother.

He blinked. That didn’t make sense. How did John know? Actually, how had John known that he needed to come here, and not home?

The phone disappeared back into John’s bag, but not before Scott spotted his name high up in the message list. Too high, considering he hadn’t sent him a message in days.

He fished his own phone out of his pocket and glanced down at it. Notifications of messages from half his classmates sprung up everywhere, the message previews full of nothing nice, but that wasn’t what caught his attention.

Sorry, something came up. I’ll see you at home, the screen said, the same text he’d composed while considering ditching John and running. The same text he knew he’d never actually sent.

It was on read.

A split-second memory of being jostled while passing through the gate flashed through his mind.

“Thanks for deciding to wait for me after all.” John plucked the device from his fingers, and scowled down at the screen. “I’m holding onto this for a while.”

Scott didn’t bother arguing, even though he knew full well that John would be collecting as much data as he possibly could from every single threatening message and probably had less than friendly intentions for doing so. He was just too drained to do anything about it, and now that he’d exposed the situation onto his brother, it almost felt like a relief to let someone else handle things for a while.

“Ready to go home?” John asked him again.

Home meant worried family and an inordinate amount of fussing over the injuries he had. Home meant burnt dinner leftovers because it had been his turn to cook. Home meant more questions to field when he just wanted to bury his head in his pillow and pretend the day hadn’t happened.

Home meant a family who would believe his side of the story. Home meant unconditional love and support.

Home meant safety.

He nodded and let John guide him back to his feet, his brother keeping a supporting arm around him even once he was vertical.

Home sounded like the best place to be.

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #insults #who did this to you?#thunderbirds are go #fic #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #thunderwhump #thunderangst

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

Water to wine (Remus Lupin x reader)

Warning: None Word count: ~2.2k Summary: You’re the new Alchemy teacher at Hogwarts and you and Remus have the hots for each other, but you refuse to do something about it, so your students decide to take matters into their own hands... Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Requested by my lovely Honey-wife

It was unusual, almost, to have a teacher at Hogwarts leave for a not horrific-curse-related reason, but during Harry’s third year at Hogwarts just that happened. Of course, in that case, it didn’t really involve him, but he heard Oliver talk about how his alchemy teacher was leaving the school to move to his new wife's hometown in france and how they’d soon have a new teacher. No one at school seemed to know who this new teacher would be, even Remus couldn’t tell Harry anything, no matter how much he asked, and soon half the school was filled with rumours. These rumours all stopped as soon as you arrived. The great hall was bustling with noise like every dinner and people were happily eating and chatting about their days, when the doors flew open, something that would usually mean trouble, and the sounds around the tables quickly died down. You came inside, head held high with a smile on your lips and managed to ignore all the stares directed at you as you stopped opposite of where dumbledore was sitting and started talking to him in a hushed voice. Slowly the sound came back - whispered voices filling the room - even though half the students (mainly boys) still had their jaws on the floor. And could you blame them? You were drop dead gorgeous. The way you held yourself, the way you Y/H/C Y/H/L Hair fell and seemed to shine in the candle light of the hall, the kind, caring smile on your face and the way your blue robe - that was embroidered with star constellations and the four elemental symbols at the hem - seemed to flow with every step you took. Not only the students seemed to be in awe, but luckily for him, no one seemed to notice the star struck look in Remus Lupin’s eyes when he looked at you. After a few minutes of conversation between you and the headmaster - with McGonegall sometimes joining in, you stepped aside as Dumbledore was standing up to address the students. With a single gesture the entire room was silent again, waiting for what he had to say to them. “Dear Students, as many of you might have heard our former alchemy teacher professor Nicolins has sadly left us, but as those who attend the alchemy courses already were informed of, we have a new teacher. It’s a pleasure to introduce you to Professor Y/L/N,” he paused for a moment to let the students - who had resumed their excited chattering as soon as your identity was revealed - calm down again, “Continue with Dinner.” With that his little speech was over and the room went back to normal, just with a new hot-topic: you. Speaking of you, there were still quite a few eyes on you as you walked behind the long table and took a seat where Professor Nicolins had sat before - right beside Remus.

That first day everything had seemed so new and exciting, all the people you’ve met and all the things that you had to learn to manage your way around the castle, but you soon found that you had someone to turn to. Remus had introduced himself to you and not long after the two of you had been entranced in conversation,, you learned that he was the relatively new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, but knew his way around the castle thanks to his time spent as a student himself. You felt like there was an instant connection of sorts. But as exciting the first days were, things soon started to fall into a sort of routine and you got used to your new situation. The only thing you couldn’t seem to get used to were the butterflies that filled your stomach every time you talked to Remuis - which was quite often actually. You felt like you were back to your own school days with your crush on the professor, but something kept you from acting on your feelings. You told yourself that it wasn’t worth taking the risk of making things weird between the two of you - what if he didn’t like you back? You’d have to face him every day knowing all about the embarrassment. So you’d rather just stay friends and colleagues. Nothing to lose there. The only problem was, even though Remus didn’t seem to notice your feelings, everyone else did. Not only that, they also saw the way Remus looked at you, almost mirroring your expression if not exceeding it, with love and admiration. And they realized that both of you were basically completely clueless towards the others feelings and didn’t seem to plan to confess anytime soon. It drove them nurs, the two of you could be so cute together if you’D just get over your fears. After two months of watching the two of you pining after the other they had - quite frankly - enough and decided to do something. And so, with the help of students from all four houses, the plan began.

“And that concludes our lesson on why Jesus possibly was the first Alchemist to discover how to use magic to turn a liquid into another without changing the consistency too much. If I’m honest, turning water into wine without using a wand is quite a cool party trick and pretty helpful when you’re stick in a boring lecture, but that’s a story for another day,” you finished class and clapped in your hands when a student - a ravenclaw boy who had taken it upon himself to be the course class clown - raised his hand. “Yes, Mr. Gwind?” you called on him as you leaned against your desk. “Could you demonstrate please? For sole educational purposes of course?” he said while clearly not being interested in the educational purpose of it, but you couldn’t help but chuckle. There was no harm in showing it to your students since it was a complex process that - while looking easy - could only be done by experienced Alchemists. “Sure, why not,” you shrugged and picked up an empty glass cylinder on your desk, “Mr. Weasley, Mr. Wood, would you please come to the front?” Percy and Oliver stood up and walked over to you where you promptly handed Percy the Glass and positioned the two of the opposite of each other like they wanted to duel. “Mr. Wood, I’ll need you to use Aquamanti and aim the water stream into the glass. I expect your aim to be perfect, Percy’s robes depend on that after all.” Oliver nodded and raised his wand, perfectly shooting the stream. Quickly you used both hands to make a circle around the stream and the class waed when they saw how a red liquid filled the glass instead of the clear water. As soon as the cylinder was filled Oliver stopped the water stream and you took the wine out of Percy’s hand before sending the two students back to their desks. “Of course, there are easier ways to do that,” you said and proved your words by swirling the liquid in the glass a bit, the wine turning back to water slowly, “but sometimes it’s funnier to do it fancy. Now, class is dismissed.” You sat down at your desk and started sorting through your documents, before cleaning up your utensils and putting them back to where they belonged. You had been at it for about ten minutes when you heard someone running towards you. When you turned around you were surprised to find yourself confronted by a panting, panicking Remus in front of you. “Remus? What happened? Is everything okay?” you asked and put the cloth you had held back onto your desk before walking to him. He just looked around slightly confused. “I-I… What? Some Students just came to me to tell me that Harry and Draco were duelling each other here,” he panted and kept on looking around like they’d jump out of a closet any minute now. “That- That makes no sense, they aren’t even allowed up here and I’d stop them if they ever tried to even attack each other.” Remus seemed to realize how dumb what the students had told him actually was, but after all with Harry and Draco you never really knew, did you? “Well, uhm, yeah, I guess that was just a prank then,” Remus said and scratched the back of his neck, “I’ll better go back before the next glass starts.” Suddenly, without knowing why, you felt a blush forming on your cheeks and you couldn’t help but feel nervous and a little bit giddy. “Yeah… Right- classes,” you said trying to ignore the way his lips seemed to draw your eyes to them. Remus nodded and for a few seconds the two of you were just standing there in silence with the romantic tension hanging around you, but somehow Remus was able to free himself and walked back to the door only to stop in front of it. “Is there something else?” you asked, almost hoping that he’d just turn around and sweep you off your feet to kiss you. “Uhm, Y/N?-” Had the way he said his name always sounded that amazing? “Your door is closed?” Okay, wait what? “Just open it, use Alohomora if you must,” you just shrugged and turned back to your cloth and utensils. “Yeah there’s kind of a problem, there’s no lock I could use Alohomora on, your door is gone.” You immediately shot around only to see that Remus was right, where not even a minute ago there was a door there was now a wall. “That is...interesting,” you said, completely overwhelmed by the situation, but trying to shake off your confusion, “Can you turn it back? I forgot my wand back in my quarters, I didn’t need it for this lesson.” “Oh, yeah, sure,” Remus nodded and reached into his robe pockets, only for a confused look to make its way onto his face as he started to (slightly panicked) pat down his robes. “What is it?” you asked worriedly and took a step towards him. “These little fu-” he started but caught himself and threw his head back, “The twins, they were talking to me earlier after class and came weirdly close to me, I wrote it off to them just being weird, but I guess they had their hands in this.” “What do you mean?” “My wand, it’s gone.” With that neither of you knew what to say anymore and you just sat down at one of the desks in defeat. A few minutes it was just silent and - not wanting to be weird by staring at him, even though you kinda really wanted to - you looked out of the window. “Well, what do we do now? Just wait until one of the other professors notices we’re gone and get’s us?” you asked and started playing with the arms of your robes. “I guess,” Remus nodded and turned to you, “What should we do in the meantime?” An idea made its way to your head and you looked at the still filled water cylinder on your desk. “Would you like some wine? I can make some, it’s my personal party trick and we won’t get to teach anyone today anymore either,” you smiled and hoped he would agree so that you could just drink your nervousness away, but you were disappointed when Remus shook his head. “I’d rather stay sober when I’m with you,” he said but immediately seemed to regret it, not that you’d notice because you had already averted your eyes in shame and hurt. So that was how he felt about you. “I understand,” you tried to sound neutral, but you were afraid that he heard it. “That’s not what I meant- well it was, but I think you misunderstood,” Remus hurried to fix things, but you had already stood up and walked back to your desk to prepare your next lesson. “No, I understand, we’re professionals, we’re collegause and we should act like it.” Remus bit his lip in an inner battle, but soon sighed in defeat. “I don’t see you as just a colleague,” he said in a soft, but still slightly gruff voice and you couldn’t help but turn around to look at him again, trying not to get your hopes up. “Then what do you see me as?” you asked slightly breathless. Remus stood up and walked over to you, coming incredibly close to you, and raised his hand to stroke over your cheek. “I think you know what I see you as?” “I have my theories, but I think you should clarify,” you couldn’t help but tease as your eyes kept on flying between his lips and his eyes. “If you insist,” he mumbled before his lips were laying on yours and he was kissing you with so much emotion and passion that it was taking your breath away completely. You could’ve kept standing there forever in Remus’ arms if it weren’t for the creaking of a door - to be more specific the door that had just reappeared. Both you and Remus, still in each other's arms, turned to the open door, and you could’ve sworn you saw a few pairs of shoes disappear into nothingness or what you’d later found out was Harry’s invisible cloak. “Are we going to punish them for basically trapping us in here?” you asked as you leaned against Remus' chest. “Actually I think we should actually award them, I’d never managed to do this if it weren’t for them working together.” “I guess you’re right, we can let it slip this time,” you agreed, incredibly excited what this new aspect of your life would bring to you.

#HArry potter #hogwarts #hp #x reader #remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #moony x reader #moony #professor!reader #fluff #love #harry potter x reader

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finrelia · 4 years ago

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I Always Told You I Didn't Like Knives

Prompt:

anonymous asked:

Could I request a Alex Danvers x reader where reader is a DEO agent and gets hurt on a mission so Alex becomes very protective and refuses to leave readers side?

Pairing: Alex Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 1,782

Warnings: Angst. Blood/Violence. Minor swearing. Bad Writing.

A/N: Sorry If this isn't exactly what you meant when you meant,,, I didn't focus as much on the protective side of things. But!!! I hope you like it!!! Also, its REALLY long aha. Anyways, Enjoy! (Again, sorry that I changed it a little,,, I got carried away.)

Everything was okay in your life right now. You had a job you loved, in a city you loved, and a girlfriend you loved. Everything was okay. J’onn had sent you and Alex on a routine mission to check up on a new cadmus threat that surfaced. He mentioned a weapon that could stand as a threat to Kara, because they manufactured it with kryptonite in order to weaken her. So, since she was at risk, supergirl was ordered to stay on site at the DEO headquarters, much to her dismay. The location of the threat was a cadmus owned warehouse at the base of a mountain far outside of national city. Winn had picked up on the kryptonite signature which is what started this whole thing.

It was you, Alex, and a few recruits. Your squad was armed to the teeth, and alex had her gun (that she loved almost as much as you). You, however, opted for your knives, that you’ve been favoring for years. Alex had persuaded you to keep a gun in your holster just in case, though. She trusted you, and your skill, but she didn't trust your knives. Especially when the threat was a gun. “I’ll be fine, babe. I always am. I can take care of myself, you know that.” you said to her as she gave you a concerned look.

“I know, (Y/N) I just worry sometimes.” She responded with a sigh. You got up from your seat on the jet across from her, and planted a solid kiss on the top of her head as the plane touched down.

“I think it’s cute that you worry” you whisper, as your hand cups her cheek.

It took around an hour of scouting to make sure the warehouse didn’t come equipped with unnecessary traps, or mines. There were minimal guards outside of the base, which you found odd, but not odd enough to worry you. Alex was quick to take out the two men that stood watch over the side entrance of the massive concrete and steel building. You looked to the recruits, and used two fingers and a pointing motion to order them off to go secure the front entrance, and by the time you looked back to where Alex was, she was gone. Alright, I guess we’re going in. You thought, always impressed with your girlfriend’s audacity.

You slipped into the barely open steel door, your two knives gripped firmly in your hands, blade lightly resting against your forearm as you held them in a defensive position. Something didn’t feel right. Something in your gut was off. The power in the warehouse appeared to be non-functional. None of the lights were on, not even the emergency bulbs you saw that lined the walls inside. Your eyes adjusted to the new, dim light, and they rested upon Alex, who was crouching over a body around twenty or so feet from the door. You walked over to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Alex?” you asked. She didn’t look up at you. When she responded her voice was cold, distant.

“They’re dead. The recruits. All of them. This was a trap set up by Lillian.”

You looked around the room. Littered on the cold concrete floor were twelve bodies. All wearing the black DEO standard-issue kevlar. You felt sick. You remembered distinctly ordering them to flank. They listened to you, followed orders. You slipped your knives back into their place in your thigh strap. “This is my fault. I told them to move to secure the front.” you said to yourself. Alex said nothing, just stood back up from where the body was.

“We need to get out of here. The people that did this could still be in the building.” She said cooly, her hand wrapping around your bicep, and pulling you to the door.

Before you could even take two steps, there was a mechanical thunk, followed by an electric whirr as the lights suddenly turned back on. Not just on- but full force, flood light bright. You instinctively brought your arms up to shield your eyes from the violent change, and Alex did the same. “What the-” Alex was cut off by the sound of gunfire. You were still blinded, and were too busy worrying about the recruits to memorize the layout of the boxes strewn about. Alex, on the other hand, was much more fortunate. Like always, she had everything down to a science. As soon as she heard the gunfire she was safe behind a cluster of metal barrels, never once having to open her eyes. She reached up to you, and pulled you safely down next to her.

As soon as you rested your back against the metal, your eyes adjusted, and your knives were in your hands. Bullets collided with the side of the barrel, grazing the metal and sending small sparks flying into the air. You looked to a stack of scrap metal, that was a risky ten feet away from where you were know, but going there would allow you to get close enough to charge and engage in hand to hand combat, in which, you had an advantage thanks to your knives. Alex gives you a nod, to acknowledge your idea. You duck down under the line of fire, and sprint to the metal. Before you knew it, you were safe, and closer to the threat. As you moved, you looked to the origin of the gunshots. “I spot four agents, all armed with semi-automatic rifles!” you shout to Alex.

“Alright! I’ll take the two nearest me!” she shouts back, holding her pistol tightly against her chest.

She poked her head and arms up above the barrels, and fired three quick shots, downing the two agents in question. The others, closer to you, focused their fire towards her, and she ducked down under the barrels again.

Noticing the opportunity, you ran out from behind your cover, and flipped your knives over, their blades pointing directly at the agent closest to you. By the time he noticed you advancing, it was too late. He fell to the floor, unconscious from the blow you dealt him. Using the hilt of your knife as a bludgeon. You moved from him, to his partner, who was aiming his rifle directly at you. Before he could fire, your knife sliced open the skin of his hand, which caused him to drop his gun. You kicked him in the ribs, and then in the head, to ensure he was out.

“Clear!” you shouted to Alex, who you heard rise up from behind cover. “I think I got them all. Must’ve been an extra guard detail. Still doesn’t explain what killed the recruits though, because four men couldn't take them out.” You said, confused.

“(Y/N) MOVE” You heard Alex scream. Your head whipped around to her, only for your gaze to be met by a massive man, easily a foot taller than you, standing within arms length. How didn’t I hear him??? You thought to yourself. You raised your knives, ready to react, when he lunged at you. There was a massive glowing green sword in his hand, likely the weapon you were sent to destroy, and, before you could move out of the way, It sunk deep into your abdomen, right above your left hip. You cried out in pain, Going limp against the blade. It ripped through your stomach, causing immense agony to ripple through your body. You felt blood begin to seep out from around it. The man released his grip on the handle, satisfied. You heard five responding shots, fired from Alex’s direction. The man collapsed in front of you, littered with bullet holes. You looked up from your stomach, hands gripping the blade protruding from your body, to Alex. She gasped, seeing your wound, and rushed over to you just soon enough to catch you as you fell weakly to the ground.

She set you down carefully and became panicked when she saw how bad it was. “(Y/N) IS DOWN. I REPEAT, (Y/N) IS DOWN!) she screamed frantically over the comms. “SOMEONE GET KARA HERE” she screamed through tears. “It's going to be okay, baby, everything will be okay.” She said softly to you, as your face paled, and your eyes lost focus. You could feel the cold ground grow warm as your blood pooled underneath you. You knew you were losing too much blood. That you might not make it. You swallowed dryly.

“I’m not doing so good, huh?” you asked weakly.

“No, no you’re not, but everything will be okay, I promise. I can't lose you.” Alex said, as she pulled your limp body into her arms. The world went dark as you heard her whisper into your hair: “I can’t lose you.”

Your eyes fluttered open. As they came into focus you realize you recognized the ceiling. You were in the med bay at DEO headquarters. You tried to sit up, only to gasp and cry out in pain, clutching at your side. Tears well up in your eyes, and you glance down to the source of your pain, and see a long line of red begin to blossom across a bandage that was wrapped around the length of your abdomen. There was a stirring sound next to you as Alex woke up, apparently having never left your side. “Oh thank god.” she says, shooting up to pull you into a hug. You winced slightly at the movement, and she released you with whispered “Sorry”s.

“It’s been five days. I thought you’d never wake up.” she says, choking back tears, as her hand gripped yours.

“I’m tougher than I look babe.” you say with a smile and a groan as you shuffled to get comfortable with where you were laying.

“I know- I know.” she responded back. “You really scared me back there.”

“Won’t happen again, I promise”

“It better not. Oh, and I’m not leaving your side until you’re healed.” She said sternly as she tightened her grip on your hand.

“Fine by me” you responded with a smile.

Alex leans over and presses a much-needed kiss to your lips. It was soft, and full of tenderness and care. You sighed into it, you missed the feeling.

When she sat back down, you looked to her, a smile on your lips, and on hers.

“You know-” she said with a raise of her eyebrows. “I always told you I didn’t like knives.”

You laughed as whole-heartedly as you could (without hurting yourself).

“I know babe, I know.” you said quietly as you felt her thumb caress the back of your hand. Everything was okay again.

#Alex Danvers Imagine #Alex Danvers #Alex danvers x reader #Danvers x reader #Angst #Supergirl #Supergirl fic #Supergirl x reader #supergirl fanfiction #Alex danvers fic #repost

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murderousginger · 4 years ago

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Pretty but Naive

Part 2 of Cops and Robbers

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Some steamy kisses. They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 5.4k

Note: This took quite a turn from it's original idea. I hurt my own feelings writing a part, just know that. Take a deep breath and enjoy the ride, darlings!

Tagging: @imagine-that-100 @blinder-secrets @rae-you-gotta-be-kidding-me

Working at The Garrison was so much easier than Sabini's club. After the night that John drove you home to Birmingham, you had started work the next afternoon and quickly picked up the routine.

No more skimpy or overly shiny dresses. A plain cotton one did the trick and breathed better as you ran around to tables and across the bar to refill drinks. You were back home, so almost everyone knew who you were and why you were there so there were almost no issues with wandering hands or vile words. An occasional drunkard misstepped, but it was nowhere near as bad as London. You were generally happier and making the same amount of money as before.

Harry was a good boss and not long after you were taken on, Arthur bought The Garrison. The boys did their business there anyway so it was only smart they own it. Nothing much changed afterwards. Harry still ran things and you were a hard worker as well as a friend of the Shelby's so you were well cared for.

Except for once.

On a very busy night, you went to pass around a round of beers to a group of younger Peaky Blinders boys; Finn and Isaiah leading the group.

"Oy, Finn, be a sweetheart and pass this to Isaiah," you said as you handed two beers to the youngest Shelby. He and Isaiah had chosen the seats with their backs to the wall, their friends surrounding them in the other chairs.

"Yes'm," Finn said as he passed the second beer to Isaiah. "Any way I could get a nip of whiskey?"

Finn eyed you curiously as you stopped handing out beers on the tray and stood up, wiping your hands on the apron around your dress.

"How old are you now, Finny?" You said. "Fourteen, fifteen?"

"There's abouts," he replied, puffing out his chest. "I run things around for Tommy and even play lookout sometimes. I'm grown."

"Hmm," you considered. "I think Tommy'd still prefers you off the heavy until you're at least 17-18 like 'saiah over here, eh?"

You started leaning back over and passing out the drinks as the group started to laugh and Finn turned red around the ears. He sipped his beer in defeat. You were almost finished passing out drinks when you felt a teenage hand slap your ass and squeeze.

"What is she, Finn, to be calling you Finny and denying you whiskey?" The boy asked. "Is she your old wet nurse?"

The other Blinders teens laughed along with him except for Finn and Isaiah. Both had wide eyes as you slowly stood up to look down upon the teen with a scowl and a cocked eyebrow.

"I did nanny Finny while he was younger," you said evenly. "I've also run more errands for Pol and the boys than you could imagine while you were still playing in the dirt."

You eyed the boy sternly as you felt the heat rise in your gut and your anger increase.

"If I asked, you'd be dead by morning," you said, teeth bared. "But I won't ask, I'll just cut you m'self. So kindly put your hands on your beer and off my arse."

The teen's eyes were wide as his hand dropped from you and went to his drink. His eyes cast down as he let out the smallest "yes ma'am" you had ever heard.

You nodded, looking up at the rest of the table.

"Now," you said, expelling your breath and putting a real smile back on, "can I get you boys anything else?"

A quiet round of "No ma'am" and "No (Y/N)" echoed around the table.

"Good boys," you said as you picked up your tray and walked away.

The table erupted with laughter behind you as you left. You heard Isaiah and Finn immediately begin to tease the boy and you smiled your way back to behind the bar.

"Always had a way with the boys, didn't you, (Y/N)?" Tommy teased as he slipped out of the private room and sat at the bar.

"Never had a problem with the ones that weren't easily afraid," you retorted with a wink. "Who wants to keep the yellow ones around, anyhow?"

Tommy chuckled.

----

On slow days, you had time to sit in the private room with the boys and shoot the breeze. On a particularly slow day, Tommy had the others running errands for him and he had decided to sit at the empty bar and talk to you.

"(Y/N)," Tommy asked as he eyed you before taking a drink of his whiskey. "Why aren't you married by now? Surely you've been courted by someone."

You leaned on the counter, leaning in as if to tell a secret.

"Once," you replied. "Remember Timmy McKee?"

"The git we beat for pushing you down when we was kids?" He asked incredulously. "He had the balls to try to marry you?"

You nodded solemnly.

"Tried," you whispered. "He was talking to Da about it and started coming around after you lot were shipped out."

He leaned in, curiosity written all over his face.

"I told him if he valued any appendages he'd walk out and not look back," you said solemnly. "Mum turned blue from anger. Dad was stone faced. McKee all but ran out of the house. Ended up marrying Sue. Sweet girl. Pretty sure he beats her."

You shrugged and stood up, going to clean a few of the dirty glasses pilling up by the sink.

Tommy chuckled, leaning back in his seat and spread his hands across the bar in front of him.

"What did your dad do after McKee ran?" Tommy asked.

"He started laughing," you said with a grin. "Mum sent us both to bed without dinner."

----

Time sort of blended together after working at The Garrison for a while. It was all pretty much the same. Some nights were slow. Some were packed with people. Sometimes the Shelby's had you working the private room while they conducted business.

On days off you were closer to your Mum and would visit. She was angry you worked for the Shelby's but seemed happier you were closer to home. When she drove you too crazy you ran off to visit Polly or Ada.

The days bled together, but you didn't care because you felt a part of the Shelby's again. They were family and you felt loved.

Your favorite part was being able to goof off with your boys, but you had never forgotten the night that John had driven you home.

On yet another night of working at The Garrison, you were walking back to the bar after dispensing more drinks when warm hands grabbed your middle and spun you into a chest.

"Did I ever tell you how nice you look in that color?" John said as he deflected your tray from hitting him and took it out of your hands and placed it onto the bar counter.

His cheeky grin was contagious when he bit down on the pick in his mouth.

"Only every time I wear it, John boy," you said, relaxing into his arms and patting his chest. "What do I owe this honor?"

"Well," he said, faking seriousness, "I've noticed our young Finn has gone from clutching your skirts to wanting in them -- and as one of his big brothers -- I'm here to tease him by teasing you."

"Oh now," you said, your pat turning into a smack, "he's just a babe. The wind blows wrong and he's as stiff as a flagpole. You should know, you've never grown out of it."

"Maybe," he murmured, ignoring the jab, "but maybe I just like a chance at holding you close, (Y/N)."

Your eyes jerked up to meet his before you giggled nervously.

"Be careful where you aim that charm, John," you warned before you hesitantly stepped out of his arms to return to behind the bar.

"Right," John said before sitting in an empty seat at the bar. "How about two whiskeys then."

"I can take them to you in the private room if you like?" You asked before turning your back on him to reach the whiskey on the top shelf he liked best.

"That may be a problem, unless Harry plans on covering for you, (Y/N)," John said playfully before raising his voice. "Harry, can I nip (Y/N) off your hands for a bit?"

"Aye," Harry said, not looking up from cleaning off a table. "But have 'er come back out during the rush in a few hours."

"I can do that, Harry. I'm still right here," you said loudly as you sat back on your heels with the whiskey in your hand. When you turned, you saw John staring at you with a smirk. He rolled the pick across his lips with his tongue as he made eye contact with you. Your breath caught for a moment.

"Well you didn't bloody well ask me, now did you?" Harry chirped back. "You had John do it. So he got your answer."

Harry's retort snapped you out of it and you rolled your eyes at the cranky old man. You picked up two glasses with the hand that wasn't holding whiskey and followed John into the private room the Shelby's used for business.

"Slide in," John said as he went to sit with his back to the wall.

"A lady doesn't slide," you said, placing the whiskey and glasses on the table and moving them toward the back where John sit

"Good thing you aren't a lady then, huh (Y/N)," John teased, taking the pick out of his mouth and setting it on the table.

You huffed a little as you sat down and moved to sit next to John. He was already filling the glasses with a double neat.

"To bringin' old friends back into the fold," he said as he raised his glass and motioned you to take yours.

"I've been here a while now," you said, clinking his glass before you both shoot back the drink.

As you open your eyes and look back at John you catch him staring again.

"Yeah well," he said, clearing his throat, "might've missed you more than I realized. You're a sight for sore eyes, you are."

"Aww," you cooed teasingly. "Is my John boy getting soft?"

You bumped his shoulder playfully before filling the glasses again.

"To friends that feel like family," you said, raising your glass.

John hummed noncommittally.

"Never much thought of kissing my sister," John said with a wink as he clinked your glass. You both quickly finished that round, too. You both put your glasses on the table with a thud.

"Never had the guts to kiss me anyway," you said offhandedly. "You chose not to, remember?"

John grabbed your chin so fast your head spun. His thumb and index finger dug into your skin as he pulled your face closer to his. When your lips were barely grazing his, his fingers dropped from your chin and his hand firmly rested upon your throat. He didn't choke you, but firmly held you in place. Your heart thudded against your rib cage.

"I could choose to," he said gruffly.

His blue eyes met yours before looking down at your lips. His tongue wetted his lips and ghosted over your own. You couldn't breathe.

"You could," you finally squeaked out.

"Do you want me to?" John asked.

"Yes," you whispered.

You had expected John's lips to collide with yours, but instead he pulled you closer by your throat and ever-so-softly kissed you. He left you hungry.

When he let go of your neck and pulled away, you pushed against him in the booth, needing the space to not exist between you. You pressed your lips back on his and could feel his smile as you slid your hands under his coat.

He licked your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to his silent request, deepening the kiss. His hands pressed into your sides and set your skin on fire.

As you both continued kissing, one of your hands found his face again and his hands started to wander to your skirts. John softly kissed your jawline and down your neck as he pulled you under him in the booth. His hand found warm skin near your knee and he groaned into your neck as his rough fingers pressed upwards into your soft thigh.

"John," you half moaned, half said apprehensively.

You pushed his face up to yours as his hands froze in place and his face pressed against your hand to kiss you again before meeting your gaze.

"(Y/N)," John murmured back, his pupils blown out and a lazy smile appearing on his lips.

"Slow down," you said quietly.

Recognition lifted the haze in his eyes and he gave your thigh one last squeeze before he slowly moved his hand down and out of your skirts and used his hand around your waist to upright you beside him.

He looked at you like you were a spooked mare. He set a soft kiss on your forehead before releasing you from his grip. He cleared his throat, scratching his head as his ears turned pink.

"Right so," he said. "Another drink?"

You did have another. And another. And when you finished your shift, John was waiting for you with a bottle in hand for many more. You walked through town in the dead of night, drinking and talking -- and occasionally kissing.

You stumbled into your flat at dawn the next morning, knowing full well you were going to nurse a hangover and be miserable before work. But you were absolutely elated.

And when you finished your shift the next night, John was there.

And the night after.

And after that.

John didn't push during kissing after the first night. He waited for you to lead. He started learning your tells as the nights went on and would kiss you or touch you so softly that it would drive you to kiss him harder. You would push against him more until you could feel that cocky grin of his against your lips. And you both would laugh and go back to what you were doing.

Some nights you wandered town. Others you dipped in the pond. You would sit on the steps of your flat and talk. Most nights were filled with conversations. You talked about each other's days, of business, of family, of dreams or ideas or anything that came to mind.

You were exhausted at work but in such a happy mood that no one commented on the bags under your eyes.

After too many nights out with John to count, there was a slow night at The Garrison that had you itching to be home.

Harry and you both started doing inventory on the liquors to order, as there were not but a handful of patrons in the place. None of the Shelby's had been in most of the day. Business, you were sure. Bloody business.

Tommy walked in close to midnight, looking stiff. He waved you to him and nodded toward the private room. You nodded and grabbed his favorite whiskey and a glass.

"Long day, Tommy?" You said happily. "Not long till close."

"Very long," he replied shortly, reaching into his breast pocket for a cigarette and lighting it.

He eyed you for a moment before patting the bench beside him. You sat down and put the whiskey and glass on the table in front of you.

"You've been staying out late every night with John," Tommy said, taking a long pull from his cigarette.

"I have," you said smiling as you poured him a glass.

"(Y/N), you know he has children," Tommy said kindly.

"Yuh," you said. "Three, from Martha, his late wife. John's told me."

"Four," Tommy said. "He has four children. A newborn. With his wife."

"Wife?" You said, frozen to the spot.

"Esme," Tommy said, lightly resting his hand on your shoulder. "A Lee girl. He went to marry Lizzie a year or more back, said he needed a wife. It was my doing. We needed a truce. He needed a wife. He fought me at first, but he seems to like her."

"I see," you said softly, holding your breath.

"John boy didn't mention that part, did he?" Tommy replied just as soft.

"No," you flinched at his name. You could feel your lungs lose all their air as your world crumpled around the edges.

Tommy nodded, more to himself than you, and his eyes were far away. He set his jaw.

"She's missing him, in the nights," Tommy grinded out, rubbing your back softly. "Starting to get worried. Upset. Gypsy women are hard enough to keep in one place. Home with a newborn and three kids. Best to keep her happy. For the truce."

"For the truce," you recited, voice cracking. "Nothing comes in the way of money or family."

Tommy touched your shoulder, and when you didn't turn he grabbed your chin and pushed your head up to look at him.

"Unless it is money or family," he said softly.

"Hey," he said in a low voice as your eyes locked with his. "Look at me. You're all right, love. You didn't know. You didn't know."

You crashed into his arms, burying your head into his shoulder before your tears could fall. Your breath hitched and Tommy wrapped his arms around you, forgetting about his cigarette dropped into his drink. He petted your hair, soothing you with soft sounds like he did the horses. It only made you hold on tighter.

"Take a couple days off," Tommy said finally, putting your face into his hands. "Go see Polly. Drink some tea. Get your head straight, yeah?"

"Yes, Tommy," you sniffled, nodding into his hands like a child. Tears streaked your face. He wiped one away with his thumb. His eyes softened.

"Atta girl," Tommy said quietly, kissing the top of your head as he pulled you back to his chest. "Stay outta sight for a few nights until you get your head straight. Then come back."

"Tommy," you said, voice so small.

"Yes (Y/N)," Tommy said.

"It was silly of me to ever think I'd really be a Shelby girl, wasn't it?"

Tommy sighed and lightly squeezed you closer to his chest.

"No, sweetheart," he whispered into your hair as you started sobbing again. "You've always been a Blinders girl. You just can't be his Shelby girl."

When you walked home that night, it was alone. Your chest was tight with anticipation. You only relaxed once you closed your door and locked it behind you. You slid down the door in a puddle and cried again, arms wrapped around your knees.

----

Tea with Polly was pretty much what you expected it to be. You waited until the house was empty from the boys running work or errands and then slipped in the back door.

Your face was still red and puffy from crying, and you froze as you ran into Finn in the doorway. Finn jolted to catch his biscuit before looking up at you and immediately changing his scowl into concern.

"(Y/N), what --" he started.

"Not now, Finny," you said softly.

"But what --" he tried again.

"Leave the girl alone and run your errands, Finn," Polly's harsh voice echoed across the kitchen. "Go on."

Polly leaned in the doorway of the kitchen opposite of the two she was cooly eyeing. You shrunk under her critical gaze as if you were already being scolded. Finn huffed and slipped past you to go outside.

"Not now, Finn," he mocked, stomping away. "Go on, Finn. Bloody adults."

"Water's on the stove," Polly said. "Grab two teas and bring them in to sit."

"Yes ma'am," you said quietly as you set out to do what she tasked you with. In a few moments you had two hot teas placed on the table and sat opposite the chair Polly sat in watching you.

"So," she trailed. "What's wrong with my (Y/N)? Did the boys leave you out again?"

You flinched at the tease. Polly sighed.

"What'd they do?" She asked in a more gentle tone.

You told her about John and the conversation you had with Tommy. Her face grew more and more grim as the story went on.

"So you were the tarte keeping John from coming home," Polly said, leaving back in her chair. She saw your face fall and she waved you off. "Oh, you aren't a tarte but you were the tarte, girl. All those conversations that were whispered while we couldn't find out what he was up to. Where he was sneaking about."

"I think I love him, Pol," you whispered as you ran your hands through your hair. "Nothing else could hurt this much, could it? He lied to me."

"Don't think with your heart when a man is thinking with his dick," she scowled, taking a long drag from her cigarette and pointed at you. "Even if it's one of my nephews -- especially if it's one of my nephews."

"How was I supposed to know he was thinking with his dick?" You asked crossly, putting your head in your hands. Polly laughed.

"All men think with their dick," she said. "And Shelby's are especially known to ruin many a good thing because of it."

"I won't be his tarte, Pol," you said.

"I never expected you to be," Polly said, taking a sip of her tea. "I expected you to be smarter. Go be about your business and make him realize his mistakes."

----

You didn't visit your mum, knowing full well that she would only chide you for the indiscretion. You weren't strong enough to pretend, so instead you went shopping. You got your usual groceries, and when you noticed a pretty blue cotton dress in a window, you bought it. You had to. It was Shelby's eye blue.

You stayed home the next day and just read. You soaked in the tub until the water was frigid. You started to fidget when the time came that you usually left for work, but you stayed in. One more night. Two nights at home, and you'll be strong enough to go back into work. You had to be strong.

The next day you woke up and lounged. You took your time primping yourself, putting your makeup on slowly, teasing your hair up into something more intricate than a ponytail, fitting into your new blue dress. With each layer you put more mental walls up, preparing for your night at work. You even wore a pair of higher heels than you usually did.

When the time came you clacked down the cobblestone to The Garrison, not entirely sure of what your night would end up like but entirely ready for anything.

You reached the steps of The Garrison and took one last big breath and exhaled before you walked in.

"Harry, I'm back," you called, walking toward the bar and grabbing your apron to put on.

"Thank fuck for that, little bird, because we're busy tonight," he called as he emptied his tray with a round of beers to a table. "Grab a tray and I'll see to behind the bar."

"Aye," you called back, already filling a few drinks at the bar and taking their money before doing as he asked.

The night was definitely fast. You spun yourself around the bar, filling drinks and laughing with a few of the regulars along the way.

Arthur popped in around eleven and waved you over, smile on his face.

"Well would you look at (Y/N)," he offered as you walked toward him with a smile. "Don't you look pretty tonight. I'm sure you're getting all the tips."

You laughed as he took your hand and spun you once, looking from your dress to your heels.

"Good night on your end, Arthur?" You asked.

"Good night indeed," he answered, whiskey already on his breath. "Business was good and now that I've seen you, the night is even better."

"Oh, now," you joked. "Don't be too sweet on me. I might melt."

Arthur spun you into a hug and you laughed as Tommy and John came in behind him. Tommy nodded his head to you before slipping into the private room and John watched you closely before doing the same.

"Let me go, Arthur, and I'll get you boys your drinks," you said as you went to turn around.

"Don't be long, love," Arthur said with a wink. "It's going to be a rowdy night."

"The rowdier, the better," you called over your shoulder, already slipping past Harry behind the bar to grab the glasses and the bottle.

"Get them their drinks and come back out," Harry chided as he worked at cleaning glasses. "Now's not the night for you to run off."

"Yessir," you said sweetly as you kissed his cheek quickly and slipped past him again.

"Don't tease an old man and do as yer told," Harry yelled, but he had a smile on his face as he watched you run off.

You open the door and moved into the private area, the Shelby's already in their spots smoking cigars. Arthur nearest the door on the left, Tommy in the corner facing the door, and John on the right. You stood between John and Arthur, facing Tommy.

"Cigars tonight?" You lilted. "Business really must have been good."

"We're expanding, (Y/N)," Tommy said. "Bigger and better business."

You poured their drinks, handing them to each brother, a wide smile on your face.

"Congratulations, boys," you said.

"How about a congratulations kiss," Arthur said, taking his cap off and placing it on the table. He raised his cheek to you and pointed at it. "For good luck."

"Now," you said, faking exasperation with your hands on your hips. "Harry just told me not to tease an old man. I thought you said when you hired me to listen to him."

All the boys chuckled good naturedly and you bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Anything else before I get out of here?" You said with a laugh. "Harry will have my head if you keep me too long."

"Not right now," Tommy said. "But do check in."

You raised your eyebrow before dipping into an exaggerated curtsy.

"Whatever you say, King Tommy," you drawled before spinning on your heels and returning to the rest of the bar.

You left the bottle with them, knowing they'd easily finish it.

You went through the motions of the night, checking in periodically with the Shelby men to see if they finished the bottle or needed ice, or sometimes just to give one a jab. They all seemed in high spirits over whatever had happened and it lifted your own attitude to see them acting like kids again.

However, John hadn't said more than a word or two all night and it was driving you mad. He was joking with Arthur and Tommy plenty, but as soon as you would enter the room it was almost like he grew quiet. He watched your jabs and taunts to the other two but never joined himself.

After the bar had quieted and patrons left for the night, John came out of the room and stood between the door and the bar, watching you clean. Harry had disappeared into the back to take stock and pick up the alcohol to replace the night's used bottles.

"You've been tiptoeing around me all night, John boy," you said, finally breaking the silence. "I'm guessing you know I know and cat's got your tongue."

John stuttered a step but walked up and sat at a chair at the bar.

"I know," he said, tracing the wooden grooves on the bar top.

"That's all you got for me?" You said, tired but incredulous. "You lied to me and all you can say is you know?"

John gulped, but looked up and kept eye contact.

"I didn't lie," he said. "I just didn't tell you. There is a difference. Home is home. Business is business. They don't mix. They don't meet. That's why I don't invite her here."

"And I'm neither," you said, washing glasses a little more vigorously than before.

"You're home, too," he said quietly, resuming his focus on tracing lines on the bar top. "But more like the first home. The one you grew up in as a child. The one your parents read to you and tucked you in, like."

You released a breath that you didn't know you were holding and lifted a soapy hand to your forehead. You dropped your shoulders.

"Gotta grow up sometime, John," you said before you resumed scrubbing.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you, (Y/N)" he said.

You slammed your glasses into the sink, hearing at least one break. You paused to take a heavy breath before you grabbed a towel to dry your hands.

"You once told me you're only as much trouble as I'm willin'," you started in a whisper that steadily grew louder.

"(Y/N)," John pleaded.

"I'm not willin' no more, John boy," you said in a stronger voice than you thought capable.

It almost sounded like your heart wasn't shattering. You finally found the courage to look him in the eye. His face was sheer regret. You stepped out of your heels and walked the paces to stand in front of him. You rested your elbows on the counter as you held John's jaw in both hands, squeezing tenderly.

"Do me a favor," you said with tears threatening to fall. "Give me a goodbye kiss, then go home to your family."

He looked you in the eye before looking down to your lips and squeezing his eyes shut.

"It's alright, John," you soothed. "We're alright. I just need a goodbye."

He took a deep breath and placed a hand over your own and squeezed.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)" he said hoarsely, before kissing you softly.

You held the kiss for a moment before letting go of his face and leaning back slowly until you were standing upright again. Your eyes were still closed. That was it. It was done.

"Goodnight, John," you said, slowly opening your eyes.

He was already slipping out of the door.

Tommy leaned in the private room's doorway watching you when you finally pulled yourself together. You decided to grab a rag and clean tables to get away from his prying eyes.

"Tommy," you stuttered. "I thought you had already left."

He hummed, kicked off the door frame, and walked your way.

"Wanted to make sure that went smoothly," he said. "Looked like you parted just fine."

"You should know me well enough to know I'm not that girl," you glared at him before you wiped a table down and moved to another one. "I'm not anyone's tarte."

"Wasn't you I worried about," he said. "John's not always one to hear no."

You moved tables again and wiped it down.

"What do you want, Tommy?" You asked, watching him follow you around the bar from the corner of your eye. "What are you scheming?"

"I just wanted to see if you're alright," he said before stepping closer. "That dress looks good on you, (Y/N)."

You threw the rag down on the table and stood up straight to look him in the eye.

"I'm fine," you said.

"You shouldn't lie," Tommy retorted. "You're bad at it. But you did fine."

You grunted noncommittally as Tommy stood toe to toe with you. You looked up at him and he touched your face, hesitating before he cupped your cheek.

"(Y/N)," he said quietly as his warm breath teased your lips.

"Tommy," you interjected, grabbing his hand that cupped your cheek. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you? You wouldn't … not tell me?"

"I wouldn't lie to you unless you wanted me to, (Y/N)," he said.

Your hand dropped from his and the creases that had appeared on his forehead smoothed. You were enamored with how blue his eyes were at the moment. At how they sparkled.

"Now, (Y/N)," he murmured as he leaned closer, "you absolved my brother of his sin with a kiss. Suffer me with a sin from the same indiscretion."

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby #john shelby #john shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #arthur shelby #finn shelby #fan fic #storytime with murderousginger

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quokkacore · 4 years ago

Text

son of wolves I [park chanyeol & byun baekhyun]

for @imsoba, who asked for an angsty, fluffy enemies to lovers au. merry christmas from your secret santa! written for the @exolssecretsanta gift exhange.

summary: your entire life, you've fought bravely to defend the walls of your home from the evil forest spirits of the spearwood trying to destroy it, alongside your family, friends, and your betrothed, baekhyun. until you're infected by the evil that resides in one of these spirits, and you run away from home, before it can spread to those around you. it's in your exile, wandering through the spearwood that you meet the wolf prince, a tall man of hardened eyes, few words, and a fiery temperament, raised by these spirits you've so grown to resent. it's here that you begin to question everything you've ever known, and wonder whether the evil was out here, in the forest, or inside the walls of a place you once called home.

pairings: hunter!baekhyun x reader, wolfprince!chanyeol x reader

genre: reverse princessmononoke!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fantasy epic, slow burn, war au, wolf!au

warnings for this chapter: violence, animal attacks, mild descriptions of gore, mild body horror(?), can you tell i did my best to avoid calling them tentacles but there are only so many times i can use the words “coils” and “tendrils”, language, subtle emotional manipulation, reader feels VERY violent urges but they’re not too descriptive, hypothermia maybe?, intentional starvation for purposes of wilderness survival, chanyeol is kind of aggressive and intimidating, SO MUCH worldbuilding im srry, VERY precarious (and probably inaccurate) medical procedures performed by the reader, chanyeol is a slob but hes literally feral so??

song recs: ateez - hala hala // stevie nicks - rooms on fire // the weeknd - until i bleed out // joe hisaishi - departure (to the west) // howard shore & billy boyd - the sacrifice of faramir + to the edge of night // jorja smith - i am

word count: 11.5k

a/n: first of all, i want to apologize a little bit to the person this was meant for. i meant to write this in two parts, but due to external factors, i’m going to have to split it into three. i hope you like it <3 second of all, i think i strayed a bit from the original source material, but i hope u guys can enjoy it regardless!! merry christmas to everyone, this is a gift to my followers as well.

main masterlist // story masterlist

chapter one: the bite

It was supposed to be a routine patrol just outside the perimeter of Ironbend. You hadn’t been expecting the beasts and the rider to ambush the two of you in such a way. One moment you and Baekhyun were eyeing the treeline, the next the wolves were running up on you, and your reindeers were taking off, attempting to lead them away from the village.

“Get the others!” Baekhyun called to you, running between the trees, “I’ll lead them away from the wall!”

You nodded, directing the reindeer to veer away from the chase. You looked back, eyeing Baekhyun warily before he and his reindeer disappeared further into the trees, the sound of howling getting further and further away.

But the sound of large paws against the forest floor did not. Knowing what was coming, you turned, aiming the arrow you’d nocked earlier in your bow, and met eyes with the beast that had been chasing you.

Immediately, you knew that this beast was different. Its running pattern was erratic, as if it were tired but still euphoric, and you could see a wound on its neck, staining its fur a dark color. Not red, but almost black. You let the arrow fly at it, grazing its side, but it didn’t growl. Its sneer grew bigger, but no growl or snarl left its mouth. You faced frontwards again, watching as you came closer to the treeline, the wall of Ironbend coming into view.

“THE WOLVES!” You shouted towards the men on the parapets, standing guard, “GET THE RIDERS, THE WOLVES ARE—!”

The bite came both expectedly and unexpectedly, the wolf pouncing on you and knocking you off of your reindeer. You tumbled onto the ground, pinned down by the white wolf, feral and mad. The way your head fell against the ground, plus the cold snow left you disoriented and dizzy. Expectedly and unexpectedly, because in a fight like this, you always expect there to be injuries, maybe even casualties. But deep down, on a subconscious level, you never really expect it to be you.

Humans cling to hope, and sometimes end up having it pried from their cold, dead hands. No matter how hopeless things become, everyone always has a “maybe”, or a “what if”. And today, your “maybe” had turned sour. Out of nowhere, the white beast had locked its maw around your arm, and was thrashing you back and forth. You could feel an intense pain in your arm as its teeth broke your skin and attempted to rip off your limb. In your disorientation, you began to panic, your other arm trying to beat the animal off of you. You pulled at its fur, and threw punches, but what seemed to distract it enough was when you tugged at the wound, and managed to stick a few fingers inside, gripping whatever was in the wound.

The beast reared back as it let out a pained cry and then a ferocious snarl. You managed to scoot back at least a little bit, putting some distance between you and the wolf, and grabbed the bow, which you had dropped as you fell.

Blood was dripping down your marred arm, and in those seconds that seemed to pass like an eternity, you realized that the wolf’s saliva was, for some reason, a thick, semi translucent black color.

I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.

The scent of the beast’s rancid blood pierced your nose and the sound of other men shouting were the sensations you could feel around you, but not before you felt something inside of you, a deep, masculine voice echoing in your head.

Your hate infected me, the voice growled, now my hate will infect you, and you will die the same way I will: slowly, painfully and overtaken by rage.

Then the voice was ripped from your head, the same way the beast was ripped away from you as the other riders came to your rescue. You were picked up by one of them, thrown onto his reindeer behind him, and you gripped on tightly to his shirt with your uninjured arm as he turned his reindeer sharply to follow after the wolf, which was most likely returning to its pack, towards the sounds of shouting, howling, and gunshots.

“Are you okay?” He asked loudly, and you recognized the voice instantly.

“I think so,” You answered Jongdae over the wind, “I’m hurt pretty badly, but nothing Yixing can’t fix.”

With some difficulty, huffing in pain as you did so, you reached for another arrow, nocking it into your bow in preparation to let it fly at another wolf. Jongdae’s reindeer followed the wolf in its tracks, and stopped when you ran through the trees and stumbled across the fight. The wolves were incessant in their snarling and attempts to trample the riders and their reindeers, but your eyes ignored them despite the chaos, falling to Baekhyun, who was now off of his reindeer, his sword pulled out, dodging the rider’s dagger. You could see the anger on Baekhyun’s face, his chest heaving.

You couldn’t see the rider’s face. You never could whenever they attacked. All you knew was that he was significantly taller than Baekhyun, and that his hands were tanned and littered with scars. His face was covered by a red mask, back covered by the pelt of a white wolf, neck accented by a necklace of sharp teeth from different animals. His simple clothes were black, hiding the rest of his body. The man moved aggressively, grunting as he played the offense, repeatedly trying to stab your lover.

You sneered and let your arrow fly, catching him right in his right shoulder blade, piercing through his clothes. The man stopped, groaning in pain, back arching in pain. He was barely able to dodge Baekhyun, who had taken the hit as an opening for him to strike with his sword. The rider stepped back, letting out a loud whistle before getting onto the largest wolf. He whistled again, and the other wolves began to retreat, dodging the large metal bullets that rained down on them from the guns of the other soldiers.

When the silence settled, Baekhyun’s eyes settled on you, and then he was running towards you and Jongdae, eyes flashing in alarm as he saw the mangled flesh of your arm.

“What happened to you?” He asked, voice loud and concerned.

“The wolf that came after me knocked me off my reindeer,” You replied, suddenly feeling lightheaded as the adrenaline began to wear off, “Bit me pretty bad.”

He looked up at you, then to Jongdae.

“Get her to Yixing. Now.”

“The bite left her cursed.”

Murmurs broke out amongst the council of leaders, and you felt your eyes flutter shut at Yixing’s tone. Normally soft and gentle, now his tone was loud as he spoke to the ten members of the council, and you could tell he was angry.

“What do you mean cursed?” Your father, head of the council, asked.

“The beast was infected with hatred,” The healer explained, “Hatred of that kind stems from war and festers in ways we mortals cannot comprehend. As he’s a demigod, one of the sons of Selyne, it will most likely turn him into a demon.”

“One of our finest female warriors cursed by a descendant of that wretched she-wolf,” The head of war huffed, her eyes settled on the bandages of your injured arm. “How will the curse work on Y/N?”

“It will manifest as dark magic.” Yixing’s voice was low, and you felt Baekhyun’s hand tighten around your own uninjured one. “It will harm her and those around her when it does, and it will slowly spread through her body. It will kill her when it reaches her heart, or her brain—whichever it reaches first.”

You looked up. “But there has to be a cure,” You quipped, “I can’t die. I refuse to.”

“Y/N.” Yixing’s eyes were sympathetic. “There isn’t. I hate to say this to you, but this is a death sentence. By my estimates you have at best, a month and a half.”

“Can we at least slow it down, hyung?” Baekhyun asked, voice pained. Your eyes squeezed shut at the slight desperation in his voice. “Make it less painful?” “Make it less painful, maybe. Slow it down… I don’t think I can, Baek. I’m sorry.”

You watched him nod, jaw clenching, the hand atop yours clenching slightly. “There has to be something,” You insisted. “What about the story of the wounded warrior—”

“Y/N, that’s a myth.” Your father’s tone was both sympathetic at your insistence, but also angered by your refusal to accept the truth. “And besides, that myth originated centuries ago, before we took hold of our destinies and left The Spearwood to build Ironbend.”

“Do you really think the Pillars of the Forest—do you think Emyr, the proud fool that he is, would heal you as he did the wounded warrior, after three centuries of war against his kingdom? After all of the weapons we’ve created, all the soldiers of his we’ve gotten rid of, ”

“Emyr asked the warrior for a sacrifice, then. I could negotiate something with him, and—”

“And what? What if he asks to give up our weapons, to leave The Spearwood be after everything it’s done to us, so that we may be overrun? Y/N, you may be one of our finest warriors, and you may be my daughter, but I refuse to sacrifice one life over all of Ironbend.”

“Send me on my own, then, papa, but I can’t just—”

“Enough.” His tone was final, and you inhaled sharply as you attempted to control the shaking in your arms.

“You will stay here. And I promise we will do our best to make the rest of your life something for you to look fondly upon when you pass.”

“It’s bullshit,” You growled, blinking back tears as you sat on the bed in the cabin you shared with Baekhyun. “There’s a perfectly good possibility and they won’t even let me try.”

“Y/N, my love,” Baekhyun whispered, coming to kneel between your legs so he could cup your face, “It’s a suicide mission. Going into The Spearwood, of all places, in the dead of winter, to find those four gods and ask them to heal one of their enemies, I… you have to admit, it doesn’t sound logical. If the cold doesn’t kill you, then Selyne and her children certainly will.”

His hand came to rub at your cheek, nose nuzzling against yours, and you knew he was right.

In the beginning, when man was just another animal, the ancestors of Ironbend lived in The Spearwood, ruled over by the four Pillars of the Forest: Selyne, the wolf goddess, warden of the forest, Beval, the eagle god, keeper of the weather, Mirren, the bear goddess, guardian of families, and Emyr, the deer god, king of the gods, and ruler of the forest. Over time, humans became smarter: they realized they could build things with their hands that animals could not, and they grew proud enough to rally together and leave The Spearwood and the kingdom of the gods to build something permanent: Ironbend.

The forest exodus triggered a seemingly endless war, which had been going on for over three hundred years. For three hundred years, your ancestors had attempted to destroy the gods’ uncivilized way of life, to end Emyr’s tyranny and extend Ironbend across all of the Spearwood, so that it would finally be gone.

If the gods were as ruthless as they said, Emyr would never heal you when you were a part of the threat to their archaic way of life.

“Baek, I…” You whispered shakily, eyes fluttering shut. “I can’t die like this. I-I can’t. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. W-we were supposed to get married, and we were going to lead the council, and have children, and raise them to end the war, and then… Baekhyun, do you really want to give that up?”

“You think I want to give that up?” Baekhyun snapped, leaning away from you. “What, you think I want to watch you die a slow and painful death, and not do a thing about it? I—”

He caught himself when he saw the tears streaming down your face, and your injured arm shaking. You couldn’t explain the despair, the anger that washed over you, but you could see the injured skin warping and growing beneath the bandages. You felt the bandages tighten against your skin as it grew, and you grasped your injured forearm with your other hand to hold it back, because all you felt was the urge to hurt, and you wouldn’t live with yourself if you ended up hurting Baekhyun, the man who made you laugh and feel emotions you had never felt before, who had persisted to push himself up the class ladder because he wanted to be with you and help those around him.

Not him, not your Baek.

He stepped back cautiously as you took deep breaths, trying to ignore the sudden black liquid oozing slowly out from underneath the bandages, staining them dark and dirty. You began to count, and counted for an eternity, only stopping at 136 before you felt the urge dissipate, burrowing back beneath the skin it had attempted to break free from.

“Are you alright?” Baekhyun’s tone was cautious, and you opened your eyes to find that he was eyeing your arm warily. You nodded. “Better. I just… need to remain calm.”

He groaned and ran a hand over his face before pushing his hair back. “Shit, my love, I… I would march into that forest right now if I knew for sure that it would save you. But the truth of the matter is I don’t know, and neither do you, and chances are that it wouldn’t. No one has seen Emyr in a hundred years, and even if he showed himself to you, he would likely have you executed for treason.”

When you didn’t respond, his hands fell to yours, bringing them to his chest. You spread out your fingers, feeling the fabric of his cream drawstring shirt and the firm muscle beneath it.

Your eyes fell on the pendant he’d always worn: a small opal on a gold chain, which had been his father’s. Noticing your gaze, he reached behind his neck, unclasping it and placing it around your neck.

His eyes were desperate, voice breathless and slightly panicky. “Stay here, with me, Y/N. Where it’s warm, and y-you’re surrounded by people who love you, and we can be happy before you die. We can rush the wedding, I don’t care if it’s a big affair or not. If it means you spend the rest of your life with me, it would make me the happiest man in the world, and I promise I would make you feel loved until the end of your days.”

Your forehead fell against his, and his eyes fluttered shut. “I’m already on my knees, my love. Please don’t make me beg any further.”

“Baek…” You whispered, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “Hold me, please.”

He nodded, quickly making his way onto the bed, ready to console you, not despite what just happened but in spite of it—he knew you were just as frightened as he was, because he knew you like the back of his hand. The argument was forgotten, and suddenly you were resting on Baekhyun’s chest, listening to him hum a lullaby to you. You let your tears stain his shirt, and he pressed kisses to your hair between beats, until the soft melody lulled you to sleep, dreaming of nothing, basking in the warmth of the arms of your betrothed.

When you awoke, you found that Baekhyun had blown out the candle on your nightstand, because your room was now dark. He was asleep beneath you, snoring softly. He looked so relaxed now that he was resting. During most of the day, his face was pulled into a grim frown, as the council met to discuss serious strategies and the needs of the people of Ironbend.

He hadn't always been that way. Even now, occasionally bits and pieces of who he was when you had first fallen in love—the brightest, funniest boy you had ever met—shone through. He could still make you and your friends laugh until your stomachs ached, but now that you were all adults, and it was time to take the war from your parents' hands, all of you had grown more serious, and pushed aside the time to simply enjoy life and each other.

You were 11 when you met Baekhyun, himself 13. You met at the training academy in the town, meant to teach children the basics: how to read and do math, the history of Ironbend and the war, . He had been a year older, and wont to make everyone laugh.

He helped you with your sword fighting skills, and in return, you helped him with his archery skills. A steady friendship bloomed, despite the fact that you were the head councilman's daughter, and Baekhyun was the child of a woman who ran away when he was a baby to be with her lover, and the town drunk. Baekhyun was crafty, however, and as he grew into a young man, he used his wits, natural charm and skill to climb the ranks.

It also helped that he invented the first prototype for the shoulder guns.

He had always been good at making things, and his prototype for the shoulder guns, small cannons loaded with large iron bullets made from the metal extracted in the mines, were what began to give the town an upper hand against the ambushes the creatures of the forests made. And for him, it was what landed him in junior council, along with all of his other abilities.

You thought of Baekhyun, and the look in his eyes when the curse kicked in. The quake in his voice when he begged you to stay. How much it was hurting him to see you like this, to know you would die. Your hand drifted to the necklace he had placed around your neck, a silent promise.

What, you think I want to watch you die a slow and painful death, and not do a thing about it?

Except there was a thing to do about it.

The wounded warrior was a story your grandmother had told you as a child—everyone knew the story as a testament to Emyr’s cruelty. The wounded warrior had gone to the deer god as he began to die from an infected wound, and begged him for a cure, so he could live to see his children and his wife. And while Emyr took pity on him, he asked him for something in return: fifteen years of loyalty, of servitude.

True to his word, the warrior did as he asked—he tended to the god’s every whim and desire, for fifteen long, grueling years. Fifteen years that, for an immortal, passed by in the blink of an eye, but for a human, were, well… fifteen years. When the warrior finally returned home, he found his wife had died believing he had died after disappearing for so long, and his children, now grown, were resentful of having grown up without a father. The warrior lived a full life, to a ripe old age, but it was a lonely one, for he had no wife or children to take care of him or keep him company.

And finally, you thought of the rider, of the odd red and gold mask that haunted both your dreams and Baekhyun’s. There were no towns around for miles, not unless you passed through the mountains, in the opposite direction of the Spearwood, and no child in Ironbend had gone missing and remained unfound for over eighty years. The man looked too young and had moved with too much energy to be 90 years old.

Your puffy eyes fluttered shut, listening to Baekhyun’s steady heartbeat.

...And not do a thing about it?

Except there was something to do about it. And while your chances were slim, there was always a chance.

Slowly, you lifted yourself off of Baekhyun’s chest and sat next to him on the bed, admiring his features as he slept. The bridge of his round nose, the moles on his face, the apples of his cheeks.

Oh, how you would miss him.

Baekhyun was a pretty heavy sleeper, but you still took great care to dress quietly, pulling on a warm shirt, thick pants and a cloak, along with a pair of winter gloves. You grimaced pulling them on, as you used your injured hand, the skin swollen and irritated, pain prickling every time you flexed your fingers or your wrist. Your heart never ceased pounding.

Next, you grabbed a satchel and went to the kitchen, packing a loaf of bread, some jam, a few strips of dried meats, and some fruit. You could find water in the streams, you figured.

Quietly, you set your bow and quiver next to the satchel on the floor, and hurried to find some ink and a scroll of paper. As you looked, a glint of silver out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

It was one of Baekhyun’s many swords, still partially sheathed, propped up against the wall. Smaller, a bit more lightweight. He didn’t use it much precisely because of that—he preferred something heavier, that could bring down more force. You thought of the rider and his knife, and how you would most likely end up injured if he came close to you; a bow and arrow is only so good up close. You swallowed a lump in your throat, quietly picking it up. Glancing at the bedroom doorway, where you could still see Baekhyun asleep on the bed, dark hair tousled, you took a deep breath, before tying the sheath’s leather band around your waist, securing it tightly.

Blinking back tears, hands shaking, you wrote down a brief letter.

Baekhyun, my love,

Please forgive me for what I'm about to do. I can't sit here and die when I know there's at least a chance. Life will find a way. Love will find a way. I will find a way. I will do everything possible to find my way back to you, safe and sound. Don't look for me. It's dangerous enough as it is in The Spearwood, and now with the chance that I might hurt you as well… If these truly are my final days, I want you to remember as I am, and not as what the curse will turn me into.

You shine brighter than the stars, Baek. Please don't stop doing so, ever. That shine will lead me back to you even on the darkest of nights.

Forever yours,

Y/N

Tiptoeing, you set down the weathered paper on your side of the bed, before looking at Baekhyun one last time. Carefully, you leaned over him, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“No matter what happens, we’ll see each other again,” You whispered against his skin, “And after you're done yelling at me, I’ll kiss you the way you deserve.”

Escaping was an easy feat when you knew the standard night patrol route—even easier when you were the one who wrote them. Carrying all of your things, you made your way to the stables, the moon your only source of light.

There was no one in the stables, which made saddling up Ivan, your reindeer, easier. In the silence as you worked hastily, you began to doubt your actions. Go back, a voice whispered somewhere in the back of your mind, stay with your family, stay with Baekhyun. Hold him tight and don't let go until you die. Kiss him like it will free you from the curse, even though it won't. Be happy. Make them happy.

Your eyes drifted down to the bandage, which you had changed right before leaving, feeling the slight throb of your skin. You were reminded of the things that hung in the balance—or rather, imbalance. The unfairness of it all. Yes, life was unfair, but here you had a chance to take at least something back.

And so you didn’t go back. You continued to saddle up the reindeer, slinging the bag over its side, and finally, you left the stable, and quietly made your way towards one of the side gates. You knew the main gate was the one most heavily guarded, and that the side gates were generally more lax. Given the position of the moon in the sky, which was slowly being covered by clouds, you could also tell that the guards’ shift would be ending, and there would be a brief period where the gate was left unattended.

With baited breath, you waited, holding the large creature’s harness in your uninjured hand, watching from behind a corner as the guards stood at their posts. For about ten minutes, your heart pounding in your chest the entire time, you watched the parapets, and then turned to look at the alleyway you were hiding in. You did your best to hold your breath when you peeked around the corner, knowing that the condensation could give you away if they happened to look your way.

Finally, the two guards walked away, mumbling to each other as they did, and you took this as your cue. You led your reindeer to the gate, and pulled off the thick iron plank that locked the gate, careful to not make a noise.

When it was open, you hopped onto the reindeer, nudged him slightly, and he slowly walked into the treeline. You looked down at the snow, and hoped that the dark would hide the trail until it started to snow.

You rode on Ivan’s back for hours, until the darkness started to slowly fade. Somewhere during that time, it had started to snow. Now, the forest floor was covered with a fresh sheet of snow, that looked a shade of light blue rather than white, now during the twilight. During that span of time, as you rode on deeper and deeper into the forest, you realized the sheer magnitude of it. The stories the village elders had told you and the other children to keep away from the woods, and stay inside of the walls: that the servants of the gods were large creatures with sharp white teeth and long nasty claws, that the Spearwood was alive, and knew that humans had abandoned it, so it tricked travelers into going in circles—no matter how close the treeline seemed to be, you could walk for hours and never cross it because of the Spearwood’s magic, playing tricks on your eyes until you succumbed to the cold, or dehydration, or hunger.

Paranoia was trickling its way into your head, albeit slowly. As you stopped to let Ivan rest, you pulled out a piece of cured meat, chewing it until your jaw was sore as Ivan dug his hooves into the snow, only stopping when he found a patch of grass to chew on. You looked up at the sky, and then in all four directions. You knew that the mountains opposite the Spearwood were towards the north, and by going north you would eventually leave the forest and find Ironbend, but currently, with the snowfall and the clouds, you had no idea which way that was.

But you didn’t plan on returning until you knew for sure the gods would listen to you.

Apparently, the gods weren’t very keen on listening.

Onward you went for days, panic slowly kicking in as you realized that you had no way of actually knowing in which direction you were headed. You seemed to be riding Ivan in circles, and the silence of the forest, save for the sound of Ivan’s hooves against the snow, was beginning to drive you to madness. Every few hours you switched between walking on him and riding, taking quick breaks every time you decided to switch. The isolation was quickly becoming too much to handle.

You thought of your friends, of your family, of Baekhyun, of everything said that night before you left. You didn’t want to imagine what was happening back home, but you couldn’t help it, what with walking around all day and not having anything to do.

You knew that your parents must have been heartbroken, and that your friends would likely be losing their minds. But you knew that you were doing what felt right.

You had packed enough small snacks to last you about three weeks if you rationed correctly, but you felt as though you were constantly running on empty, never fully satisfied. You drank water every time you came past streams or snowmelts, because you didn’t know when you would find one again, cupping your hands together and drinking until you were practically full, fingers pained from the freezing water and your throat sore.

The falling snow would stop periodically, and then start up again. Not very heavy, but not precisely light either. Your face became perpetually cold, your fingers cramped harshly to the point when you would wince in pain when you needed to change your bandages.

The wound was getting worse. The curse was beginning to spread. Initially, while it had started at the bite mark in the middle of your forearm, it was now making its way to your elbow and wrist. The tissue seemed to be turning necrotic as well, secreting a sort of mucous substance that was black. The smell was bearable when you had the bandage on, but every time you took them off to change them your eyes watered and you had to hold back the urge to gag.

When night fell, you slept on Ivan, who was pretty comfortable in the cold, laying down in it and laying against the trees. You had never realized just how dark the world could be without lanterns to light your way, and your small oil lantern barely illuminated anything. It did well warming your hands though, which would cramp when they felt the heat.

Worst of all, the deeper you went into the forest, the more it felt like you were being watched. Which was odd, because you saw no animals. None at all, which only served to put you on edge more.

The first two days it seemed fine, but after that, it changed. Now that you knew that you were well and truly on your own, the crisp winter air felt tense. Even Ivan became a bit skittish, and you felt bad for bringing your innocent reindeer into such a stressful situation. You were on edge all hours of the day now, eyes darting from side to side always, ears straining as you listened for something, anything. It was as if the whole forest was holding its breath, waiting to release its wrath on you.

Three more days passed before it finally did.

They came when you came across a lake in the middle of the afternoon, seemingly unfrozen. You got off of Ivan, an odd sensation pooling in your gut as you approached the crystal clear body of water. Oddly enough, you felt at peace, and for the first time in days, the striking silence was comforting. Now, instead of feeling like the forest was holding its breath anxiously, almost angrily, it felt as if it was holding its breath in anticipation.

The water was clear as day and seemed to span for miles. Trees grew out of the depths, and in the center, a small island emerged out of it. When you focused on the island, you felt your eyes widen—there was no snow on it at all. Quite the contrary, actually. It was a lush, beautiful green, with a blossoming tree smack in the middle of it. For such a small island, you were certain it was the brightest green you’d ever seen.

Your dry throat almost burned in anticipation as you kneeled. At this point, it had been about a day since you had last come across water, and your head was starting to ache. When you dipped your fingers in, you gasped. The water wasn’t freezing like it had been in the other streams you came across, nor was it cold. It was tepid, bordering on lukewarm. It felt kind, it felt welcoming, and while the setting lured you into a sense of security, you couldn’t help but feel as if this was wrong, because it was a lake, in a dangerous forest. It couldn’t welcome you, not at all.

That snapped you out of your trance, and you turned just in time to face the rider as he tackled you to the ground, pinning you down against the snow, the sudden cold causing your back to arch. You were vaguely aware of Ivan being startled, and the sound of growling somewhere off to your left, but you were more preoccupied by the red mask hovering above you, and the dagger about to come down on your face. You grabbed the man by his wrists, arms straining with effort as your injured arm flared in pain, wrenching a guttural cry from your lips.

You pulled him forward, causing him to lose his balance and topple next to you. You took your chance, straddling his chest and knocking the dagger out of his hand with a kick. You pinned his arms down, before pulling off the mask swiftly, sneering at him.

But you stopped when you saw his face.

Somehow, you found yourself entranced; for his features were contorted into rage and pain but you had never seen such a beautiful person. His eyes were large and round, a deep dark brown. His plump lips were curled into a harsh sneer. He had painted three long triangles across his face with what appeared to be dried blood: one below each of his eyes, the third one in the middle of his forehead, ending beneath his eyebrows.

His large ears, hidden beneath black, shaggy hair, gave him an elfish look. He was wearing large, white, circular earrings.. Beneath you, you could tell he was pure muscle, large and beefy to the point where it left you reeling because, oh, gods, how can one man be so big?

He took the chance and flipped you over, a groan leaving your throat when your head hit the ground hard, but saw an opening quickly and lifted your leg to knee him in the groin. He toppled over, groaning in pain, and for one final time, you found the roles reversed. On top of him, you unsheathed Baekhyun’s sword, ready to subdue the rider. You pressed the blade to his neck, poising yourself to speak—

When one of the wolves grabbed you by the collar of your cloak, dragging you away from him. The wolf stilled even though you continued to struggle against it. You could feel your injured arm bleeding beneath the bandages, and the subtle tremors riding throughout it as you watched the rider stumble to his knees, picking up the sword, and crawling towards you.

He did the same you had done and pressed the blade to your neck, breath heaving from his chest, air puffing into the cold. If he had been angry before, now he was furious, and while a small side of you felt the urge to cower back in fear, you could feel one side of your body heating up slowly, a sensation you hadn’t felt in over a week slowly making its way back into your system.

“Why are you here?” His deep, menacing tone didn’t sound like much of a question, but rather an accusation.

“Take me to Emyr,” You demanded immediately. “I need to speak with him.”

He blinked. For a second, he seemed taken aback, almost offended. But then his features hardened again, and he pressed the iron even further into your neck. It didn’t break the skin but you felt a sting against your windpipe, grimacing at the sensation. Your fingers curled into fists, your entire body trembling now as you felt something moving underneath the bandages, beneath your very flesh.

“Don’t tell me what to do, human,” He spat, “This is not your forest.”

The wolf behind you growled, and you felt it one last time: the urge to hurt, the urge to kill, a feeling of absolute hatred. This time, as opposed to the first time, you didn’t hold it in, and you didn’t count. When the black goo oozed from your skin, turning the air rancid, you didn’t gag, but rather embraced it.

And a split second later, just as the man had lowered his gaze to where the smell was coming from, his eyes widening at the bandages stained black, it was too late.

This being only the second time you had felt it, and this being the first time you didn’t restrain it, you weren’t fully sure what you were expecting. But you most certainly weren’t expecting your arm to bend into a shape it wasn’t supposed to bend into, in a direction it wasn’t supposed to go. And you definitely weren’t expecting black, slimy tendrils to break your skin, pushing the man away with so much force that his back pushed itself into a tree. He yelled out in pain, clutching at his right shoulder.

The violent coils did the same to the wolf, pushing it off to the side. And while momentarily, you rejoiced in the lack of restraint, it was taken over almost immediately by panic, because you just didn’t know how to make it stop. What frightened you even more was that a part of you didn’t want it to stop. As the tendrils flailed angrily, attempting to reach the man and the wolves as well, you felt the need to let it consume you, and then let it consume the man, and the wolves, and eventually, the entire forest. You wanted them dead, gone, burned to the ground, because none of this would have happened had it been for this disgusting fucking forest.

But you knew that wasn’t the way.

Fury coursed through your veins, and your eyesight blurred, quite literally blinded by anger. Clinging to your logic, you pushed yourself onto your front, pressing all of your weight onto the monstrosity that had once been your arm. The adrenaline had stopped you from feeling it before, but now, as you pressed your mangled arm into the ground, you could feel how broken it was, how the skin ached where the coils had broken through. You cried out in pain, in anger, in sheer terror, praying for it to stop. But it simply wouldn’t, and you wondered if you had come all this way to die because you had pushed the curse too much.

Your mind went to Baekhyun as you screamed, of the way his eyes sparkled when the sunlight filtered in through the window in the mornings, when you woke up next to him. You started to believe you would never see them again. How you had broken his trust for an irrational decision you had made because of your stubbornness and pride, and how now you would never see the man you loved again, all because you believed you were right when you were so very, very wrong.

But somehow, the thought of him grounded you, and you felt the curse weaken. Still, it was something, and you squeezed your eyes shut, sobbing as you conjured up mental images of Baekhyun making you laugh, and recalled the sensation of his lips softly kissing yours. You remembered the time he had first held your hand, at fourteen, right after an intense sparring session, and how at fifteen, you had been the one to kiss him, even though he was the one who asked you, because he was too nervous and unsure of what to do.

The black appendages finally retreated back beneath your skin when you remembered how he had held you that last night before you fell asleep, and only when your free hand found its way to the pendant around your neck did your bones snap forcefully back into place. You were left hyperventilating, struggling to catch your breath as you buried your face into the snow, attempting to hide your weakness from your enemies. You heard footsteps crunching in the snow, coming closer and closer, but they froze when another rush of footsteps came from another direction.

Even though you weren’t looking, you knew it was a large party. There was simply too much thumping for it to be one person… or whatever they were. All sound stopped, save for your panting, before you heard scrambling, and you lifted your gaze in time to watch the man drop to one knee, bowing his head in submission.

“My king,” He murmured, and you turned your head ever so slightly to the direction in which he was leaning. Your heart was pounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears, and your teary eyes widened as you saw what you saw.

The giant deer walked poised mere feet away from you commanded a presence over all of the other animals that had just arrived with him. You saw other deer, more reindeer, foxes, wolves, bears. In the trees all kinds of birds were perched, an eagle resting on a branch almost directly above the large creature.

Its antlers were large, larger than you had ever seen, branching out in all directions, almost forming a sort of crown. When it took a step forward, you watched in awe as flowers and grass began to bloom where he stepped, peeking out from beneath the snow.

Emyr, you realized with a chill, the deer god. King of the gods, ruler of the forest.

So, the god rumbled, without truly speaking, voice echoing through your mind, what is the meaning of all of this?

Come to find out, Emyr wasn’t the only spirit you were in the presence of. Your weapons were confiscated. As the wolf dragged your body—weak from what just happened—through the snow, you realized that the four Pillars of the Forest were all around you. Emyr was leading the animals ahead of you, but the man walked next to the wolf as it dragged you, and next to him, walked the other wolves. The biggest one eyed you with burning distrust, and wisdom beyond your years, and when you locked eyes with her, something within you knew that this was Selyne, warden of the forest and goddess of the hunt. She growled softly, and the man’s eyes snapped to her, ready to listen to what she had to say.

Disgusting, she growled, the nerve you have, little girl, to march all the way into this forest and injure my sons even more than you already have. I should rip your throat out right now—

Selyne. A giant brown bear lumbered up next to her, speaking gently but cautiously, she came here for a reason. The least we could do is listen before you do so, sister.

Your eyes widened, realizing this was Mirren, the bear goddess of family, matron of the forest. The wolf goddess let out something akin to a scoff, and before they could continue their discussion, Emyr stopped at a clearing not far off from the lake, where it seemed winter hadn’t touched down, grass green beneath you. The sun shone through a hole in the clouds, warming up the atmosphere, and your body shivered as you felt its heat pour over your body. In the center of the clearing, a large rock had three ledges, and a hole in the very bottom.

The Pillars of the Forest settled into the great stone. Mirren walked into the hole, Selyne hopped onto the lowest ledge, Emyr onto the middle ledge. Moments later, the eagle you had seen resting above Emyr’s head earlier flew onto the highest ledge, and you realized that this was Beval, the eagle god.

The animals around you chittered anxiously. The wolf set you down onto your knees, but did not step back. The rider stepped forward, however. He had picked up his dagger after you had been dragged away by the brown wolf, and now he held it forward to your neck once more. A silent threat.

Silence, Emyr said, and the animals obeyed. You could hear a pin drop.

State your name, child, the bear ordered, and you cleared your throat.

“Y/N,” You answered, voice raspy and gruff after not having spoken, “Y/N L/N.”

State your purpose in this forest. Selyne’s anger was barely contained, you could tell, but you refused to back down. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself, and flexed your free arm.

“I was cursed, great goddess,” You stated, “Cursed by one of your sons. I came to plead forgiveness, and ask to be healed.”

Forgiveness? Beval huffed, Healed? After everything your people have done to this forest? Burning your fires, taking our resources, and repeatedly trying to destroy our homes?

You looked down, before meeting the eagle’s strict gaze again. “I understand, my lord, that your kind and mine have been at war for hundreds of years. But I don’t wish to bring any of you harm, not right now into—”

Not now that you need us, Emyr deduced, and you bit your lip.

“I don’t intend to use you for your powers, great king. I offer my service in return.”

If you don’t wish to harm us, why attack my son? Your eyes turned to the wolf goddess, trying to think of how to answer without angering her further. How do we know you’re even telling the truth?

“I was surprised,” You said after a few seconds of mulling over your answer, “His ambush caused me to panic, and defend myself. I understand why he’d do so if he didn’t know my intentions.”

“Even knowing your intentions, I’d have done it,” The man grumbled, “You’re a fool.”

You glared at him, but didn’t retaliate. You didn’t need to make yourself look worse.

What is this curse you speak of, Y/N? Mirren asked, And what do you mean it was one of Selyne’s sons who cursed you?

You told the story, choosing your words cautiously. Describing the attack, you watched as Selyne’s ears picked up, and she sat up straight, lifting her head. You described the tendrils, the black substance that secreted from your arm, the anger and hatred you felt when it controlled you. And you described remembering the story of the wounded warrior, how the curiosity drove you to leave home and wander for days until you came here.

Ah, the warrior, Emyr murmured warmly, Doyoung. What a fine young man. Of course, the circumstances were different then. His kind—your kind—was still a part of this kingdom, and he came to me looking to cheat death when he was wounded while he defended the Spearwood.

“I understand, great king,” You answered, “But my plea still stands. Free me from this curse, and I will work as the warrior did.”

Resilient, determined. Mirren sounded amused. She’s not going to give up, brother.

And what after you finish your years of service? Obviously, Selyne couldn’t be swayed, You return to your little Irontown, and continue to plot our downfall?

“Ironbend, and no, great goddess. You see, I am the leader’s only daughter. Next in line to inherit his place.”

You had your trump card, you realized, as the four gods took notice, all four of them exchanging glances, leaning forward. You could work around the original terms.

"My kind are tired of this war," You explained, growing more and more confident, "As I expect your kind are as well. It's all I've known, all my father's known, and all his father has known. If I can offer my people a stop to this war, I am willing to negotiate a truce of some sort.”

A truce… Beval mused, What are your conditions?

“I can’t stay as long as the warrior did. They’ll move on from me and pass my claim to the next person in line. Let me go back as soon as I am healed, and when I take my father’s place, I shall return, and we can negotiate a truce.”

Let you go, as soon as you are healed… The deer god repeated. I see what you are trying to do, girl. Don’t think you can fool a god.

“No, great king, I don’t intend to—”

I am thousands of years old. You think you can fool me? My terms for healing are simple, service and loyalty to my kingdom. You are neither loyal to my kingdom, nor are you willing to serve me.

You forced yourself to take deep breaths, attempting to remain calm. This had come so close to the way you had wanted it to.

You are too proud and too stubborn. You think that your status will help you now. No. I will heal not heal you… but you will remain in this forest. Learn a thing or two, and maybe then we can negotiate this again.

"Stay in the forest? I… For how long? My healer told me I only had a month and a half to live. I—"

For as long as is needed. You do this on my terms, or not at all. If you wish to go, then do so at any moment. The war will continue and you will still be cursed. If you wish to be healed, you will stay until you earn your freedom from this curse.

You swallowed a growing lump in your throat, meeting the god's eyes. "Very well, great king. I accept your terms."

Very well... But you will not serve me. You will serve Selyne and her sons.

Your eyes widened, darting nervous to the white wolf. She looked displeased with the situation, but said nothing.

He's doing this on purpose, you thought, he knows Selyne wants me dead so he's making it harder for me.

Selyne spoke again. Serve me? Well, then. My sons will work with you. Her eyes looked at the wolf behind you and at the rider. As punishment.

The wolf behind you huffed, and the rider tensed. "Mother, I—"

Quiet, both of you. My orders were simple. You were forbidden from leaving the inner circle of the forest without me, and forbidden from instigating the humans. You did both. You could have been killed, or injured as your brother is now. You deliberately disobeyed me and now because of your foolish actions, we have a human who has seen the inner circle, and knows where the most important part of the forest is.

As insolent as she is, she has come for a purpose. She is to fulfill that purpose, and you will help her do so. Am I understood?

"Mother, she's—"

Chanyeol, the she-wolf growled, don't test me.

Chanyeol. So that was his name.

The princes of the forest, working with a human, Mirren said, this should be interesting.

You could tell that Chanyeol was not pleased with the situation. The other wolves of his pack as well. After the meeting was adjourned, and the other animals dispersed, Chanyeol pushed you to your knees, and he growled at you, "Follow me."

You obeyed wordlessly, taking note of his temperament. You walked aimlessly, for about twenty minutes. Surprisingly, Ivan, ever faithful, walked behind you, but you could sense some apprehension from him. Your eyes looked at Chanyeol's back, covered by the pelt of a white wolf, serving the same purpose as your cloak.

Your cloak, which had been dragged through the snow, and was now wet. You did your best to hide your shivering. You could deal with that later.

To distract yourself, you let your eyes stray to the wolves. There were three of them, all smaller than Selyne but bigger than the average wolf. One, the brown wolf who had dragged you along. The second one, black, the third one a classic timber gray.

You realized that the white wolf who had bitten you wasn't there.

"Where's the white one?" You asked, voice quiet and curious. Chanyeol and the three wolves stopped walking, and turned to look at you.

"Resting," Chanyeol answered. You nodded, not answering, and they continued on, trailing behind them. You walked a little longer until you stumbled across a cave. Their den, you realized. You stopped, and so did Ivan behind you. You watched as Chanyeol and the other three wolves made their way into the den, but you couldn’t find the courage to enter. You almost felt as if you were trespassing.

You turned to your reindeer, skittish and eyeing the den, and walked towards him, caressing the side of his head. “You’ll be okay, big guy,” You murmured, “I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

Your stomach rumbled, and you sighed softly, pulling out your loaf of bread and the little remaining jam there was.

It was a miracle you’d managed to make the bread last this long, you mused to yourself as you spread the jam onto it.

“What is that?”

You jumped, letting out a soft squeak. You turned to Chanyeol, who had creeped up on you while his brothers remained in the den. His face remained stoic and bordering on annoyed. “Stop fucking doing that,” You snapped, “It’s bread and jam.”

He tilted his head, and you blinked. “Do… I’m guessing that isn’t a thing here?”

Chanyeol shook his head, his earrings swinging as he did so. You pursed your lips, before breaking the slice in half. Slowly, you offered him one. Eyeing it with curiosity, and slight disdain, he grabbed his half. Then his dark gaze met yours. “You first.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”

“This. You eat it first.”

Raising your eyebrows, you wondered if he thought it was poisoned. As if you would be stupid enough to poison the son of the goddess who hated you most, in front of all of his brothers. “Fine,” You huffed, and took a bite, eyes widening and shaking your head at him challengingly. He narrowed his eyes at you, studying your appearance.

His eyes stopped for a moment when they landed on Baekhyun’s necklace. But a second later, he looked back up at you, and took a bite once he saw you swallow, before making his way back to the den. Shivering, you finished your jam before taking over your wet cloak. It was even heavier now that it was wet.

Here, in what the gods called the inner circle of The Spearwood, it wasn’t as cold, so you hung your cloak over a low hanging branch and hoped it would dry soon. Now, you were unsure what to do. Chanyeol had gone to lay down with the wolves, presumably, and you stood awkwardly as you were left unsure what to do. You were tired after everything that had happened in the past hour or so—the attack, your meeting with the gods, now this—but you weren’t sure where you would sleep for now. You weren’t sure if you were welcomed in the den.

So you made your way over to a rock opposite the den, sitting on it and resting your head against a tree stump growing right next to it. You thought over everything that had happened, but mainly, how you had handled the curse. Your hand gripped the opal with your free hand, staring off into the trees.

The curse is fueled by hatred, you surmised, love is what will ground you.

You wondered what Baekhyun was doing right now, as you watched the forest grow darker slowly. For a horrifying thought, you wondered what could have happened to him that night if you hadn’t managed to control yourself. You quickly pushed it away, not willing to get caught up on what could have happened, but didn’t Your eyes grew heavier and heavier as you thought of home, and beneath your eyelids, the images danced so vividly…

“Wake up.” The voice was gruff, calloused hands shaking you haphazardly. You furrowed your eyebrows, humming softly as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. It had grown colder, and you found that you actually had managed to fall asleep. The sky had finally cleared up, the moon high up in the sky.

“What’s going on?” You asked, rubbing your eyes, trying to ignore the pain in your lower back. You looked up at Chanyeol, who had pulled his mask back onto his face.

“We’re patrolling the border between the inner circle and the outer one. You’re coming with us.” His voice was muffled from behind the mask.

“Oh,” You answered, “Okay.”

You stood, arching your back to stretch out the kinks. The other wolves were standing behind Chanyeol, and he pointed at each one.

“Junmyeon,” He said at the brown wolf.

“Kyungsoo.” The black wolf.

“Jongin.” The gray wolf.

You nodded at all of them awkwardly, unsure how to address them. They eyed you with disdain, Kyungsoo pulling off the first ever eye roll you’d seen on a wolf. Junmyeon huffed at him, and Chanyeol shook his head. “Whatever,” He grumbled, “Let’s go.”

The night was rough. Ivan was asleep, so all you had were your feet to trudge through the snow. For hours, you walked through trees and over rocks.

You were trailing through the snow with Chanyeol, having pulled on your cloak again. He was riding Junmyeon, who was walking slower than the others. The brown wolf seemed to be the most gentle of the three—four? You had yet to see the fourth—wolves, watching you with more indifference than dislike.

Kyungsoo and Jongin trailed ahead, seemingly content ignoring you.

“You do this every night?” You asked Chanyeol. He nodded. “Our mother is the warden of the Spearwood. It’s only natural that we take after her.”

You nodded in understanding. “Will I be coming with you every—”

“Yes. Stop talking.” His head turned to face forward again, back on alert.

The night was incredibly awkward and tense. You were unsure if the tension was due to the alertness of the wolves on patrol or because of you.

A few minutes later, you spoke again. “Will I meet your other brother?”

Everyone stopped, slowly turning to face you. The three wolves’ eyes were narrowed at you, and you immediately knew that you had said the wrong thing. Kyungsoo took a step forward with a growl, but Junmyeon growled back at him, and he backed off.

“He’s injured.” Chanyeol’s voice was clipped. “He was injured by people like you with those—those things.”

“Why can’t Emyr heal him?” You asked, tilting your head. “If he’s powerful enough to heal me, then why can’t he heal—”

“Because we don’t understand his injury,” Chanyeol snapped, getting off of Junmyeon. He began to approach you. “We understand the curse, but not the injury. If we can’t heal the injury, we can’t stop the curse. We understand your injury and your curse. It’s different. You wouldn’t understand. Now—”

“But I want to understand—”

“You could never understand,” Chanyeol snarled, making his way into your personal space, “Your kind never do, the vermin that you are.”

You glared up at the unwavering red mask, even harsher in the moonlight, inches away from your face. “Now stop talking,” Chanyeol demanded, poking you square in your upper chest, “And don’t talk about my brothers as if you deserve to.”

He made his way back up onto Junmyeon, and the foursome continued, not even watching to see if you walked to keep up.

Junmyeon stopped walking at your speed for the rest of the long, cold night.

When you made your way back to the den, the sun was beginning to rise. As Chanyeol got off of Junmyeon, and shooed his brother away, you approached him.

“Why can’t I hear your conversations?”

You’d realized they were having a conversation pretty early on after your little spat, but didn’t comment on it, mainly because Chanyeol decided to whisper to his brothers so as to leave you out. You found it petty. But now, your curiosity got the best of you.

Chanyeol pulled back the hood of his pelt and took off his mask, scowling at you.“Why does it matter?”

“Because I might never understand, but I can try.”

Chanyeol scoffed at you, pushing past you. You’d had enough. Your feet were aching, your fingers and the tip of your nose were numb, your lips were close to breaking because of how chapped you were, and you were hungry and dehydrated.

So yes, you gripped his shoulder roughly, and pulled him back. You weren’t expecting him to let out a pained cry, and you didn’t expect to feel something hard beneath the cloak.

Immediately, the three wolves stood from where they had gone to lay down, snarling angrily, but he waved them away. They stopped snarling, but didn’t sit.

“What is—”

“Don’t touch me,” He said, swatting your hand away.

“Let me help you,” You countered earnestly. “Please.”

“Why should I?”

You made a face. “Because I might be able to figure out what’s hurting you?”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes. “I already know what’s hurting me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you been able to stop it? It’s a shoulder injury, it’s not that h—”

You stopped midway, when your eyes drifted to his injured shoulder, hidden beneath his clothes, his right shoulder.

The very one you had shot the day you got bitten.

“I did that,” You mumbled, gears turning in your head “...And you can’t have one of Emyr’s healers treat you because… up until yesterday, no one knew you had left the inner circle of the forest.”

A smug grin spread across your face. “Scared of mommy finding out, huh?”

Oh, if looks could kill.

You shook your head, your smile leaving your face. “Really. Let me help, Chanyeol. Let me right a wrong of my own doing.”

Chanyeol’s eyes looked you up and down, eyeing you suspiciously. Finally, he grunted out softly, before nodding his head in your direction once. “What are you gonna do?”

You had him lead you to the nearest body of water, a small stream about ten minutes from the den. You sat him down on the banks of the stream, where there was no snow. You set down what you had brought: his knife, plus your bandages and a small jar of ointment Yixing had given you for your cut.

It wasn’t working on you, but you had a feeling it was more due to the fact that you were cursed by ancient dark magic.

“Take off your clothes.” You pulled off your cloak and rolled up your sleeves. He made a perplexed face. “What are you—”

“Keep your pants on,” You added hastily, “I need to see the injury.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, he pulled off the pelt, and set it down gently next to where he was sitting. His tattered black shirt was also removed, and set down on top of it, but he left his necklace of animal teeth on. Kneeling behind him, your eyes settled on the tan skin of his back, before spotting the wound.

He must have broken the wooden shaft of the arrow as he tried to remove it, because the edge was splintered and the arrowhead was lodged in his skin. The skin around the wound was an angry red, swollen. You could even see a bit of pus caking in the crevice of the cut.

You picked up the knife, mentally noting where you would cut around to pull the arrowhead out. Your other hand rested on his other. “This is gonna hurt,” You told him, voice soft, “I’m sorry.”

You pressed down around the wound gently at first, feeling him tense up beneath you. Then, when you pressed down with more force, he hissed in pain. Finally, when you plunged the knife into the wound, he groaned out.

His breathing turned heavy as you tried to work quickly, but not too hastily as to butcher your work. You used the knife as a sort of separation between the arrowhead and his skin, trying gently to pull it out.

When you finally did, he let out a harsh, shaky breath, fists balled.

You led him to the stream, using your hands to wash out the wound. It wasn’t hot at all, and it probably wasn’t the cleanest, but it was the next best thing. Trying to remember how Yixing had done it that time you Jongdae accidentally shot Minseok with his bow, and you rinsed out the pus eventually.

You slathered on the ointment a bit more generously than you probably should have, trying your best to not hurt him too much, before dressing the wound with some of your gauze. You ripped off a bit of fabric from your pant leg, before looping it below his arm and tying it taut, so the bandage wouldn’t slip free.

“Better?” You asked when you were finished.

“I suppose,” He answered, moving his shoulder to test it out, “...Yes.”

You smiled, even though he wasn’t facing you. “You go back. I need to change my own bandages.”

“You know which way to go?” He asked, pulling on his shirt, and then his pelt.

“Yes,” You answered, watching as he picked up his knife before he stalked off.

He didn’t even thank you. You wondered vaguely if he knew how.

When you returned, now with fresh bandages, Chanyeol had curled up in the den with his brothers, and you went over to Ivan, who was chewing on some grass he’d found to put away your bandages and the ointment. Wordlessly, you flexed your fingers, watching how the skin had turned a black, necrotic color that would look unnatural on any skin tone. You wondered vaguely how much longer you had, before shaking your head.

You fell asleep again on the hard, uncomfortable rock, sleeping for hours upon hours.

You woke again in the late afternoon, around the same time you had first been attacked by Chanyeol and his brothers. The wolves were awake, some milling around the den and the others sitting in a circle. You could smell blood, and you perked up, figuring it must have been a catch.

Slowly, you made your way over to them. Jongin noticed you first, gaze hardening. His snout was stained red, and you looked down between his paws to see a piece of red meat. Chanyeol turned around when he realized Jongin was looking at you, looking you up and down before turning again. You pursed your lips at his face, the skin around his mouth stained with blood—he'd obviously been eating the meat raw like the others.

"Can I…?"

"You have your own food."

You sighed. "Not really. Not enough to satisfy myself for a whole day."

Chanyeol stared at you for a few moments, looking disinterested, before sighing. He pulled out his knife, before cutting off a sizable chunk of meat from the deer. He handed it to you, and you nodded. "Thanks," you mumbled, before walking off, sitting on your designated rock.

You needed to figure out how to cook this thing.

Thankfully, they hadn't taken your oil lantern, which you quickly uncapped and lit, before breaking a small branch off of the tree. You used the branch to pierce the meat, before letting it hover over the flame.

The flame was a bit small, but you knew it would cook eventually. At least until the exterior was cooked.

While you'd been working, you didn't realize that Junmyeon had made his way over to the circle, all of the wolves watching you.

What is she doing? Jongin asked, perplexed. She looks insane.

"I don't know," Chanyeol answered, leaning over to the gray wolf, "Maybe it's a human thing."

She's gonna burn it, Kyungsoo huffed, before spitting out a bone. If she doesn't burn down the entire forest first.

Chanyeol rolled his eyes. Yes, you were foolish, but he doubted you were incompetent enough to burn down an entire forest.

No, he's got a point. Junmyeon's tone was serious. Yeol, go see what she's doing. It could be dangerous.

Chanyeol set down his chunk of deer, wiping his hands off and making his way to you. Your eyes met his once he was standing in front of you. “Can I help y—”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m cooking my meat.” You sounded matter-of-fact. “I don’t want to get sick by eating it raw.”

Chanyeol tilted his head, frowning. “We’ve never gotten sick like that.”

“You’re used to raw meat, and they’re wolves. I am neither. So I have to.”

He pointed at the lantern, eyeing it warily. “What’s that?”

You stared at him for a second, before realizing just how isolated he had been from the human world. He didn’t know what bread or jam was, nor did he know about lanterns. He called guns those things, and he eyed you like you were other, as if you didn’t have the same shape of limbs, the same joints, ligaments and bones.

“I-it’s a lantern,” You explained, snapping out of your thoughts. You explained how it worked, how it was lit, and how you had to wait for it to cook the fire before you could eat it.

You didn’t notice how your bodies scooted closer every few seconds.

Neither did Chanyeol.

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