#actually said it?? its like that 'if a tree falls in the woods and no ones around does it make a sound' thing. at risk of being pretentious

[malum-forev]

Eyes, They Never Lie

Summary: Sam and Bucky try to recruit (Y/N), Bucky's ex and a former Avenger who has left that life behind. But they realize her life has changed completely once they meet a her daughter with striking blue eyes.

Pairings: Bucky x Former!Avenger!Reader

“They want me to assemble a group,” Sam takes a long sip of his beer, thinking that it’ll do something to ease his mind. “The New Avengers.”

Bucky lets out a low whistle.

“I know.” Sam mutters. So far, it’s Captain America and the Falcon, but other than that, he’s completely lost. “Back when Steve was here, there was a place for us to go. We could aspire to one day go into the compound and train, but now, anyone who is willing to be part of the team is scattered all around the world.”

Bucky hasn’t said anything, not because he doesn’t know how to help his friend but because he’s so lost in his own journey. Running for congress sounded like a good idea, until he started dealing with the political world. So much bureaucracy, so many people wanting to fatten their wallets. And not enough actual helping.

“You got any ideas?” Sam asks, bringing him out of his mind.

But Bucky just hums, because the idea he does have is crazy.

“C’mon I know that being a silent watcher is your whole deal but I need some help over here. How the hell am I going to build a team from zero?”

Bucky finishes his drink, as if that’s going to help jumpstart his confidence. “Are you looking for fresh meat? Or do you got space for an old timer?”

Sam’s eyes widen. “I thought all your fighting days were behind you.”

“I want out,” Bucky loosens the tie on his neck. “I want to go out on the field again. Really help.”

Sam runs a hand down his face, there’s hesitation in the way he looks at Bucky. 

“Unless…” Bucky gulps. “Unless I’m not what you’re looking for.”

“No, no.” Sam places a hand on his shoulder. “I just need to tell you something before you say yes to this-“

“What is it?”

“I was-uh-“ Sam looks up at the screen above them, not wanting to look at his friend in the eye when he says it. “I was gonna ask her to join, too.”

“Oh,” Bucky can’t help but think back to when you were his, at least for a moment. Every time he thinks about being happy, you’re right there next to him. 

You were the first woman he was actually interested in. He spent years wasting time with thousands of women, letting them in his apartment but never into his heart. But your eyes reeled him in from the moment you started as an agent. Steve would always tease Bucky, saying he’d have to see you fall in love with someone else if he didn’t ask you out. 

Those were the best years of his life. No doubt.

Until you left. You retired, and wanted nothing to do with him. And all the love you had seemed to evaporate from one day to the next.

But Bucky? He was still waiting for you to come back. 

“I-I thought she disappeared, retired.” Bucky stutters at your memory. 

“I found out where she lives now. And I planned on talking her into the group.” Sam looks down at the beer in his hand.

“I’m in.” Bucky says, but he’ll never be sure if he accepted because he wanted out of the political world or if he wanted another glimpse of you. 

-------

“The house is supposed to be up the road.” Sam mutters, trying to find cel reception. But the two of them were so deep into the woods, it was almost impossible. 

Bucky had always imagined you’d end up like this. Off the grid, living off your land. But in the dream, the two of you would be together. He’d spend the day cutting wood and harvesting whatever you’d grown, and you’d be deep into a hobby, spending your nights recounting your wild life. 

They see an opening up the road, but as they come closer, their eyebrows knit together.

“This can’t be it.” Sam says under his breath.

A huge cabin, surrounded by pine trees, is the only thing around. There’s a big tree at the front of the cabin, with a tree house on one of its branches. A glittery pink bike on the lawn along with a replica of Mjolnir next to it.

Sam parks his truck and they both step out cautiously. Bucky looks around, wondering how the woman who used to scream at the sight of a spider could live here, all alone.

As they come closer to the front door, they hear rustling from the tree house.

Bucky nudges his friend’s shoulder. “There’s someone over here.” 

Sam’s head whips just enough to see a pair of binoculars looking at them from the wooden window. 

“Hello?” He calls out but there’s no answer.

“Do you live here?” Bucky asks, only to be slapped on the chest by his friend.

“You can’t ask that! It’s creepy!”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “How else am I supposed to get an answer if I don’t ask a question?” 

But there's no response from the person inside the tree house. Instead, there's clanking and banging and before they even realize it, there's a little girl pointing a bow and arrow directly at them.

"State your name! Now!" She tries to look menacing but her outfit is too much for the two men to handle. Sky blue rain boots with a purple tutu, a Def Leppard t-shirt and heart shaped sunglasses.

"Oh my god." Sam immediately melts. "Aren't you the cutest little thing I've ever seen."

But the little girl doesn't fall for the Captain's words, she points the arrow directly at Sam. "Don't make me repeat my question, I know how to use this."

"Do you live with an adult? Your aunt, maybe?" Bucky's throat dries up as he asks the question. He knew you had siblings before you went into the crazy line of work that were the Avengers, and he begged that the little girl before him was theirs.

Bucky spent hours thinking about you on the way here. He'd been dreaming of seeing you again, thinking of what must have changed and what stayed the same. But he never thought there was a possibility you had moved on.

"Is your-" Bucky clears his throat. "Is your dad home?"

Sam eyes his partner. "Smooth."

The little girl walks backwards until her back bumps into the cabin's front door. "I'll call my daddy."

Bucky's heart stops. After years, he was still thinking of you whenever his eyes closed, and you, you were completely over him. Started a family with someone else.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Sam pats his back, immediately noticing the shift in his friend's eyes.

"S'okay." Bucky mutters, grinding his combat boot into the ground. "I'm not here for her, I'm here to assemble the team."

"I know, but-"

"I said I'm fine." Bucky snaps, running a hand through his shorter hair.

You'd begged him, for years, to cut his hair.

"I love your long hair," you'd once murmured against his lips. "But I also love how you looked during the Howling Commandos era."

"Era? You're making me sound more old than I am." Bucky smiled against your lips.

"I'm just saying, you could shorten it." Whenever you looked into his eyes, it made him feel like he was the only thing in the world.

"I thought you liked pulling my hair." Bucky flipped you on the bed, taking in your bubbling laughter.

The creaking sound of the cabin door brought him back to now. Bucky sucks in air, preparing to meet the man who is apparently so incredible that you decided to drop everything to be with him.

He has to be at last six feet. Well I'm 6 foot 1, on a good day. Bucky responds to his own thoughts. And he must be jacked. Not as jacked as me, I'm the fucking Winter Soldier for fucks sake! He must love her. Well I, I've loved her every day since I met her.

It feels like it takes hours for this mystery man to come out. The door opens slowly, only to reveal... You.

Bucky's knees buckle as your eyes meet his. You hadn't changed a lick, and if he didn't know better, he'd think that you were still his. Bucky's hands ball into fists at his side, needing a physical reminder to not reach out and hold you. Beg for your kisses. Tell you he doesn't care that you left, just as long as you take him back.

"Sam? Bucky?" Your voice trembles. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

The little girl pokes her head from behind your legs. "Mommy!"

"Mommy?" Sam and Bucky shriek at the same time.

"Attack them! Take them down!" Your daughter laughs.

"Young lady!" You scold.

But the little girl interrupts you, raising a chubby hand to stop your words. "I've already told you my name is Tashi Romanoff."

"Tashi, please, go upstairs and play. I need to talk to them for a moment. In private." You enunciate your last two words, knowing they were her least favorite words in the world.

"Fine," she huffs, turning on her heels. But not before taking off her rain boots and heart shaped sunglasses to reveal a pair of striking eyes. Clear blue with a steel ring surrounding her iris. Bucky's brows furrow as he catches a glimpse of Tashi's eyes, almost the same exact shade as the one he sports.

"W-wai-She's-" Bucky stutters out, not being able to comprehend what just happened.

"Tashi, huh?" Sam raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah, she’s going through a phase where she refuses to be called by her name," you close the door behind you. "Auntie Nat came to visit us during the blip and she just latched on to her."

"W-was her dad blipped?" Bucky tries to act normal but his heart is beating out of his chest.

"Her dad isn't in the picture." You cross your arms. "She was a surprise."

"So-uh-so that means." Bucky points between him and the house. Not being able to get the words out. "There's no way that."

"She's not yours, Barnes." You roll your eyes at your ex boyfriend.

"But she-her eyes." He blinks.

"There are a lot of guys with blue eyes out there." You let out a light laugh. It was strangely easy for you to slip into how things were, teasing and sharing laughs was the base of your relationship with Bucky. But now, so much time has passed, and you're definitely not the same person you were back then.

"What are you guys doing here?" You look down at the floor as you ask the question.

"Someone out there has created a mind controlling substance that puts everyone in danger. And we need to stop him. We found his lab and we got some of the vials but we need your help taking him down." Sam says but you're shaking your head before he even has time to finish. "I want to form a group. The world needs us again."

"Look, Sam, I appreciate you going through all the trouble to find me but, as you can see, I have other priorities now." You look back into the house through the window to find your daughter peeking through the window.

"But-" Bucky speaks up but you stop him.

"You guys can stay the night if you'd like," you say, looking at the darkening sky. "But I'm not going back. There's a reason I left that life."

Bucky bites his tongue to stop himself from asking you what that reason was.

"Thanks for letting us stay." Sam smiles as he passes the threshold of your home.

You never thought this day would come. Seeing your daughter run around your back yard with one of your best friends.

“She’s beautiful.” Bucky comes to stand next to you, but you only hum in agreement. Words seemingly disappeared from your mind the second his scent wafted closer to you. Sandalwood and fire, clean linens with a dash of something else. So masculine, so protective. So incredibly, Bucky. 

“How old is she?” He asks.

“Don’t do this to yourself.” You take a deep breath in, letting him coat your lungs. 

“I just want to know.” Bucky tries to act innocently. He dissects every trait he can tell comes from you, but the rest, they look awfully similar to him. Tashi’s nose has the same bump as his and her eyes crinkle just like Bucky’s when she smiles. 

“Faking was never your forte.” You smile. “She’s not your daughter Bucky.”

“Bucky.” He repeats his name like it hurts him to say. “You never used to call me that.” 

“Well, I used to call you baby but I wouldn’t want Tashi to start asking questions about who my other baby is.” 

Bucky lets out a laugh, it’s a low grumble that shakes his ribs. It’s been so long since he felt this peace. “I missed this,” he lets the words slip out.

“I missed this too.” You say, barely above a whisper, stopping yourself before you say that you missed him. But you did.

Every day since you left, you thought of Bucky. Of the way he used to hold you so tenderly and the kisses he gave you at night. Of how he said I love you and made it sound like the only words that existed.

But all those memories were of the past, your life before Tashi came in. And you should keep them like that.

-----

The moonlight is the only thing that illuminates Bucky as he wanders around the cabin. He didn't mean to lurk but he'd woken up from a nightmare.

Your home was different than he imagined. A lot more stuffed animals and toys and less trinkets from your past life. There were a couple of pictures here and there but they were mostly of Tashi and you.

"What are you doing up?" Bucky jumps up at the sound of her squeaky voice.

Tashi looks up at him with those goddamned eyes. They looked so much like his, it was concerning.

"I-I couldn't sleep." Bucky rubs the back of his neck.

"Do you have nightmares?" She asks so innocently. If only she knew the things he dreamed of. "I have them too."

"You do?" Bucky whispers, making her nod her little head.

"Mommy usually helps be back to sleep but I don't want to wake her up." Tashi brings a finger to her mouth, motioning for the Sergeant to keep quiet. "Don't tell her I woke up, promise?"

"Promise." Bucky brings out his pinky, wrapping it around her little finger. "I'll let you in on a little secret of mine."

Tashi's blue eyes widen, urging him to go on.

"You may not know about me but, there was a time your Mommy helped me with my nightmares." Bucky smiles at the memory.

"I know about you, silly goose." Tashi covers her giggles with her hand.

"You do?"

She nods, holding her hand out and taking him to her playroom. Sitting Bucky in an incredibly small chair. "You're the boy from my book!"

Tashi places in his hands a hand sewn felt book. The characters were a bit wonky but Bucky could immediately spot himself in the fabric.

"You're the boy with the heart of gold and the arm of steel." She says, proudly pointing to the book.

"The boy with the heart of gold and the arm of steel would save anyone, especially the people he loved," Bucky read his description on the book. "People around the world misjudged him, but that didn't stop him from being good. He proved them all wrong."

"You're my favorite character," Tashi smiles wide. "Don't tell Uncle Sam."

"Your secret is safe with me." Bucky lets out a watery smile, setting the book down on the floor. "How about you go up to your room and I can tell you a story about your mom."

"Really?" Tashi jumps up.

"Only if you promise to try and go to sleep again." Bucky raises his eyebrow, trying to appear strong but the little girl already had him wrapped around her finger.

"Under one condition," Tashi crosses her arms. "I can go outside and get my Natasha figurine."

Bucky bites down on his lip. "It's quite late to go outside."

"Please?" She pouts. "It'll only take a second."

God she looks so much like you.

"Fine." Bucky gives in. "But I'll be watching by the door, can't let you go outside all alone."

The super soldier walks behind the little girl, watching as she runs outside and sifts through the grass.

Bucky should have known something was wrong, he should have heard them lurking in the bushes. But he was too distracted by her, too distracted by the idea that this could have been his life. That in some multiverse, Tashi was his daughter and he could've retired next to the love of his life.

But he didn't. And it was too late once he realized what was happening.

Tens of agents dressed in black closed in on the cabin, running onto the property. Tashi was the first thing they grabbed.

He heard her yell out his name, but it happened in slow motion.

"No!" Bucky screamed, running towards the man who kidnapped her. "Let her go!"

Tashi's red splotched eyes was the last thing Bucky saw before they crammed her into a black van and left down the only road. His feet burned as he ran behind them, but not even Bucky was able to catch up to them.

Once he came back to the cabin, Sam and you were running around trying to understand what happened.

"I'm sorry." Bucky lets the tears run down his face. "I couldn't stop them."

You dropped to the floor with a sob.

Bucky's knees finally gave out. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry- We're going to get her back, I promise that I'll get her back."

Authors note: hi hiiii omg I went a little bit overboard with this one. It's been a looooong time since I wrote something this long. I hope y'all like it! Xx

Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @whoreforbarnes @ironwinnerwonderland @oikarma @ellabellabunny123

[writteninkat]

HEADCANON: MHA MEN SPOILING YOU

w/ Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Hawks, Endeavor

warnings: none just mha men being rich<3

navigation

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

"Hey, where are you?" You hear you husband's rough voice spill through the speakers of your phone, your eyelids shaking at the eyelash extensions being pressed down and glued on your water line.

"Getting my lashes done."

"Anything else planned?" He asks, making you purse your lips in thought.

"My whole day's packed, actually. I already went to my facial appointment. I'm getting my nails and hair done after this. Maybe a little shopping if I have the energy. Oh! I'll probably get a massage too!" You rant, smiling as you imagine the perfect selfcare day.

"Alright. You think you'll have enough energy for dinner after all that?" You giggle and hum, "Uhuh! I always have energy for you baby."

"That's good to hear. Have fun today baby, I love you."

"I love you more."

You hear three beeps and you hear your lashtech giggle.

"Hero Dynamight is portrayed as this scary, rough guy in the media, but he's actually very sweet." She swoons, making your chest swell with pride.

"He is, actually. One time-"

You're cut off by your phone buzzing, followed by your lashtech gasping. Unable to open your eyes, you stretch your arms out. "What? What happened?!"

"Hero Dynamight he..." She gasps.

"He what?!" You yell, your chest caving in as every horrible thought crosses your mind.

Did he get injured during a fight?

How badly is he injured?

Is he...?

"Dammit, Ari! Tell me what's happening!" You demand, about to sit up from the bed.

"He just sent you two million yen..." She breathes out, making you release a sigh.

"Fucking Christ. I thought something happened." You whisper, relaxing back onto the bed. "Did he say why?"

"'Refunding you for you facial appointment. The rest are for your other plans. Call if you need more. I love you baby.'" She read aloud, causing a smile to stretch across your face.

"He's the sweetest." You swoon.

EIJIROU KIRISHIMA

You look around the villa, eyes sparkling and head over the moon at how beautiful it is. The Spanish colonial architecture is beautiful, the ceilings high, the wood floors shiny and waxed, and the arched windows big enough for you to show a tree from the tops of its leaves down to its roots burrowed down the soil.

"It's so pretty, baby!" You giggle, twirling around the foyer of the villa you'll be spending your two weeks in.

Finally, Eijirou was able to grab a two-week break from hero work. The two of you have been busting your asses off, protecting cities and taking down villains.

This time, you made sure your schedules synced when it came to time to making time for each other.

"You like it?" He asks, hugging you from behind.

You turn your head to the side, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I love it, baby. This'll be the best vacation ever. Just the two of us. Happy and in love." You smile, giggling at his cheeks slowly turning into a crimson colour.

And just as you said, your two-week vacation was a bliss. The both of you drank and ate, made love, swam in the private pool, in the private beach, cuddled during movies, played video games, board games, explored the small town near the villa- everything was perfect.

As you sit on your spot in the hero's private plane, a white folder on the table catches your eye. With curiousity tickling your fingers, you open it, your gaze immediately falling to your husband's familiar signature. Your brows knit as you bring your eyes back up to the top of the document, reading it.

This letter of Intention to Offer is made and effectively by...

Property Address...

Purchaser Address...

Purchaser Contact...

Dear Mr. Kirishima Eijirou...

Please accept this bid purchase to...

For the amount of...

"Eight million euros?!" You scream, clutching on the document.

Eijirou rushes out of the private bedroom inside the jet, his eyes wide with worry as he inspects you. "What's wrong?!" He worries.

"Why the hell did you buy the villa?!" You scream, now your eyes are wide with worry.

"You said you loved it." He shrugs.

Your head pulses with the need to close your eyes. You can feel your blood pressure rising at this stupid, idiotic, irresponsible...sweet, lovely, man.

"Where the hell are you getting eight million euros?" You sigh, finally looking up at the man who foolishly spoils you rotten.

"The same place I was getting eighty million yen for the yacht you wanted..." He looks at you like you're stupid.

"Why the hell did you buy a yacht on top of a villa, Eijirou?"

"You said you wanted the boat!" He exclaims, forcing you to rack your brain for the memory of when you said that.

"I said it was pretty! Not that I wanted it!" You exclaim, your face scrunching up in stress. "Where on earth are you getting your money!"

The red head simply smiles, engulfing you with his strong arms in a warm, tight embrace. "I'm one of the top heros in the world, baby. And I've been in this game for decades now. It's safe to say I've got more money than we both can possibly need." He reasons, his lips pressing against the top of your head.

"Plus, property investments are good!" You roll your eyes at the stupidly sweet man you call your husband, your heart searing as your gaze catches onto another document with the words 'Land Ownership' and your name printed not far from it.

SHOTO TODOROKI

An evil grin stretches across your face as you point at every pretty thing your eyes fall on. You don't break your stride as you enter and exit shops in under a minute.

"That." You point at an adorable bag inside a shelf. "That, too." You point at the one beside it.

"These shoes in my size. These too. Ooo! And these as well." You hand the shoes over to your assistant, letting her pass them over to the store clerk.

You exit the shop, leaving one body guard behind as you enter the store beside it. This one's a gadget store.

"You think it's time to upgrade my devices?" You ask, playing with the showcased device on the table. You turn to your side, eyeing your husband's assistant, seeing tears comically strem down his cheeks.

"Please, madam! You've spent so much already!" He cries, "What on earth did Mr. Todoroki's money ever do to you?"

"It's not his money, it's him in general. He hasn't been spending time with me as of late. I'm getting bored." You pout, nodding at a store clerk before point at different gadgets, one of each kind.

"All those, if you have them in pink, but if not, I'll get them in black. The biggest memory you have, please. Along with accesories. Pink." You order before leaving the store once more, entering another booth selling watches in insane prices.

"Madam, Mr. Todoroki is a pro hero-"

"And I'm not?" You glare at the employee. "I work as much hours as he does. I'm just as demanded, I'm just as busy, and I'm just as tired as he is. And yet, I can always make time for him back at home."

You know you're being a bit too unreasonable. But you've grown bored and lonely. And you'd rather die than take another lover. So Shoto's bank account it is.

"He'd have a heart attack if he saw all the withdrawals." The assistant worries as you ponder over two watches displayed in front of you.

"If my husband suffers from cardiac problems due to my spending, then he shouldn't have taken being a pro hero as a job." You point at the silver and blue Patek Philippe. "This one please." You tell the sales woman who smiles at you as she nods softly.

You check your own watch to see you've been at it for hours now. Almost time for dinner.

Maybe I should pay my busy husband a visit.

You roll your eyes.

You stretch your arms up above you, letting out a yawn as your muscles finally relax.

Your last stop is a five star restaurant right beside the mall.

Shoto scribbles on a few papers, hating how he's been leaving his wife alone for multiple nights. Knowing her, she'll have his ass if this goes on for too long.

He sighs, stretching his up above him, feeling his back crack. His head pulses and the need to see his wife waves over him in strong currents.

Right as he's about to resume his paper work, his phone buzzes in a call, his financial advisor's name flashing the screen.

Shoto answers the call with one hand, the other elegantly scribbling on the paper. "What is it?"

"Sir, I think your card's been stolen. There have been numerous deductions, all huge amounts." Shoto furrows his brows, taking his wallet out from his pocket. Sure enough, his black Master is missing.

A tickling feeling grows in his gut. "From which shops?"

He hears a few clicks from the other line, "These are all luxury brands. Miu Miu? Coach? LV, Prada, Bottega Veneta, Chanel, Dior, Philippe Patek- The thief may be a woman, sir."

"You're right. A woman. My woman." Shoto sighs, chuckling softly. "How much did my wife spend?"

"A little over two hundred million yen." Shoto can hear the wince in his advisor's tone, making him grin.

Sure, his wife's a kickass pro hero, and she makes just as much money as he does. But nothing compares to her spending ability with the cute little side talent of not touching her own bank account.

Just as he's about to give out an order, said wife enters his office without knocking, a familiar paper bag in her hands.

"Brought you dinner from that favorite restaurant of yours." She lifts the bag, striding over to him.

"She seems to have been having a little tantrum because I haven't been giving her the attention she deserves." He smirks at her, "Run it through."

"You talk shit about me to your employees?" The love of his life pouts as he chuckles deeply, standing from his seat. He places his hands on his wife's hips, softly pulling her towards him, giving her lips a gentle peck.

"Never. I was just explaining to them why I lost millions of yen in a day." His joke earns him a playful glare from his wife.

KEIGO TAKAMI

You complained to Keigo once. Once. That you were tired.

It was six am that morning when you woke up like you hadn't slept at all. You didn't have muscle sores or a headache nor were you sick. You were simply tired.

By nine am, the pro hero had written you a sick leave, carried you onto his private jet, and the both of you were now flying over beautiful blue waters.

"Keigo-" He cuts you off by shushing you, lifting a finger up in the air. He pulls you towards the private room located at the back of the jet where a massage table has been set up, along with ambient spa music and a masseus in the corner with her hands clasped together and her head bowed down. The room smelled of peppermint and lavender.

"We'll land in twelve hours. You can request anything else after the massage." You don't get a chance to respond because he leaves the room, closing the door gently.

You and the masseus look at each other before she lets out an amused chuckle. "He seems to spoil you so."

You sigh, "He overdoes it, but I know he means well."

Eleven hours later, you've gotten a mani pedi, a simple and refreshing facial, your muscles are relaxed, you've eaten two square meals, and had the longest nap of your life.

Now you're seated in front of your husband, sipping your champagne in your soft, fluffy robe as he reads his magazine.

"Keigo, will you finally tell me where you're taking me?" You sigh, watching him look at you through his golden eye lashes. He smirks, setting his magazine down as he pulls the window cover up.

You squint at the sudden brightness but your eyes quickly adjust. You blink a few times, moving towards the window, taking a peek.

"You took me to Greece?!" You exclaim, seeing the familiar white walls and blue roofs.

"My baby said she was tired." He mused, "And we can't have that."

You open your mouth in protest, but a sound cuts before you. "Mr. and Mrs. Takami, we'll be landing shortly. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts, thank you."

You glare at your husband one last time before buckling up, letting out an annoyed huff as you keep your eyes on the window.

"Jesus..." You breath out, craning your head up to look at the domed ceiling. Your gaze drags down, moving from side to side as you inspect the large arched windows and marbled floors.

Keigo weaps his arms from behind you, breathing in your scent. "You know you didn't have to fly me anywhere. That spa day was exactly what I needed. I could've gotten it back in Japan."

"Yeah," Keigo squints, softly pushing you towards the glass double doors leading to the balcony. "But you wouldn't have been able to enjoy this view afterwards."

The scene of the vast blue ocean with the sun slowly dipping down is breath taking. Accompanied by the soft glow of yellowish lights, the chirping of a few birds here and there, and the smell of the ocean has you claiming this place to be paradise.

"I love it..." I mumbled, captivated by the beauty of the sunset.

"More than me?"

You turn your head to the side, pressing your lips softly on your husband's cheek. "No, never more than you, my love."

Keigo smiles, pressing a soft peck on your lips before slowly letting his arms fall, his hand delicately holding your hand.

"Come with me." He tugs you back inside, leading you up the grand marble staircase and inside what looks like the master bedroom.

"Close your eyes." He whispers in your ear and you immediately follow his order. Slowly leading you somewhere, you hear a soft click of a door. "Open."

You blink once, twice, before your jaw drops to the floor. You're right outside a huge walk in closet, and inside is one of the biggest boquet of elden roses formed into a heart. Surrounding it are paper bags with different kinds of designer brands printed on them. Behind the boquet is a round marble table with different boxes of leather, some kept closed and some open, revealing shiny watches and jewelry, ranging from silver, gold, and white gold.

"Keigo..." You breathe out, taking a careful step inside before turning around to face your husband. Your eyes feel like they're about to bulge out of their sockets and your haw about to fall off.

"Not now." You shakes his head, quickly stopping you as if he knows what you're about to do. "Pick an outfit and we'll leave in an hour." He presses a light kiss on your forehead before leaving you alone with your gifts.

Feeling as though you've been spoiled rotten, you take your time going through your numerous gifts, deciding to wear every dress you come across, but quickly change your mind when you find another one.

Your husband may be a pro hero, but his true talent is picking out beautiful dresses for you.

You decide on a wine red silk dress, revealing your back, pairing it with strappy silver heels, a diamond encrusted choker, and diamond earings that hang right below your chin. You make up is a simple smokey eye with a bold dark red lip. Your hair curled and pinned up into a bun, the front swept to the side.

You step out of the room and onto the top of the staircase, looking down to see Keigo already in a suit and waiting. He looks up, eyes sparkling when they settle on you. Your heart bursts of affection- he always does this. Whether you dress to the highs or like a beggar, he looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you slowly climb down the steps, your husband meeting you at the bottom. He drinks you up slowly, his chest rising before shakily lowering back.

"Beautiful..." He whispers, soft fingers caressing your cheek.

"Thank you." You kiss his open palm, leaving a lipstick stain. "What are we having for dinner?"

Keigo's eyes are stuck on you lipstick stain and you watch his throat swallow. "May I have you instead?" He asks, his eyes filled with heat, making you chuckle.

"No, you may not, because I'm hungry for some real food." You cup his cheek for a moment before stepping to the side, making your way to the waiting car in the driveway.

He takes you to a restaurant that serves an array of european dishes. Not long after, you have a food baby and are tipsy on what you claim to be the best wine you've ever drank.

By the time you finish, you decide to take a little walk around the small town. His suit jacket hangs on your shoulders with your clasped together.

You try to hold it in, but the searing pain from your feet makes you hiss and wobble. Keigo immediately catches you, "What's wrong?"

You sigh, looking up at him with a pout. "My feet hurt. Heels are too high."

Keigo smirks before getting down on one knee.

"We're already married." Your reminder earns you a hearty laugh from him.

"I'm trying to undo your shoes, dummy."

"Oh."

He swiftly undoes the clasps of your heels, taking the pair. Before you take another step forward, he scoops you in his arms, your immediately wrapping themselves around his neck.

"Keigo?"

"Hold on tight, love." He whispers.

You get a second to process what he means by that before his wings stretch out, pushing the both of you off the ground.

"Keigo!" You scream, tightly clutching onto him as he laughs loudly.

"Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" He yells through the air.

"I'm full and I'm drunk! You're gonna make me throw up!" You yell.

He simply laughs, his arms holding you possessively onto his chest. "Not yet, my love."

You look up at him questioningly before finding the courage to look down, enraptured by the beauty of the city below you. Before you know it, you catch a glimpse of the shoreline before dark blue waters meet your gaze.

"If you drown me, you'll be the worst husband ever." You frown, receiving a snicker from Keigo.

"Don't worry, love. We're almost there." At his words, you look infront of you, noting how the angry waters eventually grow calm until finally, they're as still as mirrors. Scratch that, they're exactly like mirrors.

The stars twinkle and shine brightly above you, as well as below you. It's as if you're in outer space. The sight around you is exquisit, bewitching, alluring, captivating—it's divine. You see millions upon million of stars all around you. Tears fill the corners of your eyes at the tantalizing scene.

Keigo looks at you and you feel him slowly lower you, right above the water. "Lower your feet for me." His request has you immediately dropping your feet.

He hovers the both of you just above the water, only your tippy toes grazes the top of the water, creating a circular ripple effect, making the stars in its reflection dance.

"Beautiful..." You gasp, charmed by the sight.

"Not as much as you." Keigo mutters, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"Love?" You call out.

He hums in response, the silence relaxing.

"How much did you spend just today?"

You feel your husband freeze at your question. It's incredible how Keigo's spending problem only occurs when you're involved.

"You want me to sugarcoat it or-"

"Give it to me straight."

"A little over a hundred yen..."

You look up at him, unamused. "Keep lying."

"A hundred... Thousand?" He offers, averting his gaze.

"You take me for an idiot?"

Keigo sighs, burying his nose on the top of your head. "Million."

You huff out an irritated breath before melting back onto your husband. He's lavish when it comes to you, but it's one of the few ways he likes to show you off.

ENJI TODOROKI

Your heart pitter-patters on your chest as you squeeze your gold clutch tightly. You're nervous- and it's justifiable. You've had the fattest crush on your boss ever since you were hired as his secretary, and when he was invited to an auction with the choice to invite a plus one, he chose you. Warranted, you are his secretary, so he may need some assistance.

Stop being delusional. This is your job. Be professional.

But your flaming cheeks aren't listening to your brain. Your dress feels too tight, and your skin feels like it's been lit on fire but the cold breeze of the night cools it down.

I'm gonna end up sick.

Just as you're calming yourself down, you see a black sedan stop right in front of your lawn. You quickly make your way towards the car, opening the door only to be greeted by a strong scent of expensive perfume with a hint of musk. Your eyes immediately fall onto the one man you can't have.

He's tapping away at his phone and you can't stop the wave of disappointment engulfing you. You wanted to see his reaction to the dress you picked out.

Stop it, he has a family for Christ's sake!

You silently hop on. As soon as you close your door, the car speeds off.

"This auction is also a masquerade." He mentions, pushing a black eye mask towards you. Despite being black, it sparkles under low light.

Black glitters.

Did he find out the kind of dress you were gonna wear? The masks suits it perfectly.

As you inspect the mask, you steal a glance at him to see he's still on his phone. Rejection clenches at the stupid muscle in your chest, but you try your hardest to ignore it. You put on your mask, softly tying the black ribbon at the back of your head to keep it on.

A few minutes of silent torture passes by until bright lights finally engulf the car. "We're here, sir." The driver announces.

Endeavor taps away at his phone for a few more moments before pocketing it, letting out a tired sigh. Both passenger doors are opened and a young man in a simple black and white suit offers you his hand. As soon as you're about to take it, a bigger, much rougher hand pushes it away.

"I'll help my date down myself. Thanks." Endeavor's voice is rough and deep, but that isn't what makes you gawk at him.

"Date?" You repeat his word, making him look at you. The blue eyes under his red mask brighten when his gaze finally drops on you.

He looks at you from your mask down to your toes, and back up. He does so slowly, that even after you've placed your hand on his, he doesn't budge. Doesn't make a peep. The only thing moving is his eyes drinking you in slowly. And the movement of his throat as he swallows.

Welcome to another episode of: I'm not delusional! I swear my boss thinks I'm hot aswell!

Finally, Endeavor clears his throat. He steps to the side, allowing you to hop off the car. The cameras' flashes increase when the paparazzi notice that Pro Hero Endeavor has brought a date.

"Endeavor! Who's your date??"

"Is she someone special?"

"Is your date being paid?"

The both of you walk through the red carpet as questions are being yelled at.

"Your family back home will see you've brought a date! How do you think they'll feel?"

Your head snaps at the direction of the voice, your eyes scanning the crowd for a moment before they finally settle on a bald guy. You slip your hand from Endeavor's, striding towards the nosy fuck before quickly grabbing the lense of his camera. Your crush it in one easy squeeze, silence falling among everybody else.

"You're here to take pictures. You already know you aren't getting answers from us, so why set yourselves up for failure?" You glare across the crowd of people, making sure your words aren't directed towards baldy alone. "Snap your pictures, send them to your employers, and shut the fuck up."

Your eyes return to baldy once more, noting the sheer sweat forming all over his head. "Send the bill over to Endeavor's secretary, she'll take care of it." You tell him before flicking the bits of camera you have on your hand.

Returning to Endeavor, you hook your arm on his, and continue walking, waving and smiling for the cameras as if you aren't anxious about what you just did.

Did I do good?

Is he upset I did that?

He hasn't said anything.

Fuck, I won't have a job tomorrow. Great job, self! You've just lost an incredibly high-paying job that allows you to be close with the love of your life.

The big double doors open, revealing a dimly lit opera house. A lot of people are already inside, all of them in full glamour.

"You didn't have to do that." Endeavor finally speaks up, making you swallow nervously.

"Yeah well, I didn't like how he asked that question. As if you're doing something wrong..." Your voice is soft and unsure as you keep your gaze on the carpeted floor. You've settled on allowing your boss to lead you towards your seats.

"Don't you think what I'm doing is wrong?"

His wuestion has you snapping your neck at him, your eyes wide with worry. Does he think that?

"You're divorced, aren't you? And- and they don't know who I am. I don't think this is bad publicity at all." You defend, watching as he side eyes you.

"Anything with me is bad publicity." He mumbles, warm irritation bubbling in your chest as you clench your fist closed.

"Stop that." You demand, finally arriving at your seats.

"Stop what?" His questions goes unanswered for a few moments as you take in the private booth at the top floor. It's only the two of you here, with a button in the middle. Probably for when the client wants to bid.

"Stop putting yourself down. Yes, you've made mistakes. Big ones. Huge ones. But it isn't late for you to change and make up for it all." You look up at him with wide, genuine eyes. "You already admitted your mistakes. All that's left now is to try your damnest to make up for it, to make it up to all the people you've wronged. But you gotta do it with a genuine heart and pure intentions."

Endeavor looks at you with wide eyes, his blue orbs like the color of the sea during the peak of summer. You hold his gaze for a second,

two seconds

three-

The lights dim, grabbing you attention to the stage below.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."

The first few items were boring, so you don't blame Endeavor for not making a bid. A few paintings and tables presented here and there, maybe a couple properties. You feel your eyelids growing heavy until a necklace is presented under the spotlight.

The blue saphire stones completely surround the neckline, and a big red ruby stands out dead center. It looks heavy and too extravagant to wear anywhere you'd go. But it reminds you of your big, quiet boss.

"It's beautiful." You gasp, unable to look away from the piece.

"Up next, we have an exquisite piece that will undoubtedly ignite a bidding war: a mesmerizing blue sapphire rose, intricately crafted with petals that glisten like the ocean depths. At the heart of this stunning bloom rests a fiery red ruby pendant, its vibrant hue creating a captivating contrast. This one-of-a-kind piece combines the tranquility of sapphire with the passionate allure of ruby, set in the finest platinum. A true masterpiece of luxury and elegance, perfect for any discerning collector." The host's voice echoes throught the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, who will start the bidding for this unparalleled gem at eight million yen?" Immediately, you hear buttons being pressed, with the host yelling out numerous numbers.

"Eight million yen to bidder number twenty-seven!"

"Ten million yen to bidder number forty!"

"Eleven million yen to bidder number thirty-five!"

The price goes higher and higher, making you dizzy. You snap out of your lightheaded state when you see your boss press his button.

"Fifty million yen." He mutters to the microphone, making your heart drop.

Who's he giving that to?

Is there a woman in his life I don't know about?

Maybe it's an apology gift to his wife.

No, he wouldn't be that cheap about it.

"Fifty million yen to bidder number fourteen! Does anybody wish to go higher?" The room is dead silent. "Fifty million going once," Still, nobody makes a peep. "Fifty million going twice." Nada. "Sold! To bidder number fourteen at fifty million yen!"

"I can't believe you just did that." You breathe out, in the brink of a panic at the thought of losing fifty mil in a night.

Endeavor keeps his eyes up front, making you mirror his actions. You feel squirmish in your seat.

The next few items are as boring as the first ones, until your eyes catch a red fur coat on a mannequin. It's as red as Endeavor's hair, and it looks softer than the softest fur in the world.

"Prepare yourselves, esteemed bidders, for a truly unparalleled offering: a one-of-a-kind crimson fur coat. This extraordinary garment exudes opulence and sophistication, crafted from the finest fur of the Crimson Frost Lynx, a legendary creature said to roam the forests of the North." Your brows furrow at the statement.

Aren't those Lynxes extinct?

"Its rich, deep crimson hue is unlike anything you’ve seen, making a bold and timeless statement. Lined with luxurious silk, this coat is not just a piece of clothing but a work of art. Perfect for the most discerning fashion aficionado, it promises to turn heads and capture hearts. Let's open the bidding for this exclusive masterpiece at twelve million yen. Who will claim this ultimate symbol of luxury?" As the announcer ends, only a few buttons are pressed this time.

"Twelve million yen to bidder number thirty-eight! Does anybody wish to go higher?"

"Fifteen million yen to bidder number twenty!"

Once again, Endeavor presses his button, mumbling "Twenty million."

"Twenty million yen to bidder number fourteen!" As the house quiets, the announcer scans the crowd. "Twenty million yen going once' Twenty million yen going twice!"

A soft buzz sounds, your head snapping to its direction. It came from the booth right beside you.

"Twenty five million yen to bidder number fifteen!"

Endeavor presses his button once more, mumbling a headache-inducing "Thirty million."

"Thirty million yen to bidder number fourteen! Thirty million going once! Thirty million going twice! Sold! To bidder number fourteen!" The confusion is written across your face as you turn to your boss.

"A necklace, and now a furcoat? Sir if you wanna crossdress-"

He holds a finger up, effectively silencing you. You bite on your lower lip, huffing when you hear a knock to your right. The both of you turn to the sound.

"Who are those gifts for, Endeavor? Got a new lady friend?"

Hawks.

"Mind your own business." Endeavor grits out before returning his gaze to the stage.

You can't help but feel anxious about the other Hero's question.

Who are the gifts for?

Whenever her eyes twinkle, I can't help but press the button. It's like a magnet and my finger's made of metal. My eyes have been shifting to her everytime a new item is shown, and everytime I get a reaction of awe, my button is immediately pressed.

My secretary should be off-limits. If I were to ever make a move on her, it'd be as obvious as the sun and the backlash would be unforgiving. But my want for her seems to outweigh reason.

Fuck tha backlash. This woman is meant for me.

I can see it in the way she sees me.

When the auction ends, I offer my hand to her once again and we make our way to different offices meant for different bidders. Privacy is their utmost importance here, so I don't have to worry about other people looking at my woman.

"Good evening, Mr. Todoroki. This is your billing for tonight." The man hands a sheet of paper to Endeavor and you take a peek at it.

Two necklaces, a bracelet, a ring, a set of earrings, two more fur coats, a vase, and three porcelein statues of cats.

"Five-" Your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets. "Five hundred million yen?! Sir, please excuse me, but you do not shit out money." You chastise, your brows knitting in worry.

"Stop yelling, I'm right beside you." Your boss huffs, pulling out a check. He scribbles the amount on it before his signature, sliding it towards the man behind the counter.

"Let's go, I'm tired." Endeavor turns around, walking towards the door. You run after him, struggling in your heels but eventually reach him.

"Oh! Mr. Todoroki! Shall we deliver the goods to your office or your home?" The man calls out.

Your boss stops in his tracks, craning his head to you.

"My assistant will write down her address for you. Deliver it there."

Your jaw falls, it's like your brain has disconnected from your body. "What? No! Just get it delivered to whoever you were gifting them to!"

Endeavor raises a brow, tilting his head to the side. "That's exactly what I'm doing." He says it as if you were an idiot.

"You- I'm sorry?"

"Apology accepted. Make sure you wear that necklace tomorrow night." He pushes the door open, walking down the marbled floors of the foyer.

"What's happening tomorrow night?" You ask, out of breath as you continue to struggle in your heels.

"We're going on a date."

And your heart does a backflip, lifting a middle finger up to the world. Fuck you all! I told you I wasn't delusional!

[click here to read endeavor having his way with you in the private booth]

[ckret2]

Chapter 93 of Bill Cipher somehow femme fatale-ing his way through tricking the government agents into leaving the Mystery Shack alone:

The grand conclusion! Bill has successfully sucked the agents into his cult—sorry, I mean successfully convinced the agents that the shack doesn't need investigating.

And Bill stops thinking about Powers within like fifteen minutes.

Time to celebrate!

Dipper and Mabel were crowded against the back door, trying (unsuccessfully) to eavesdrop through it, and only barely backed up in time to avoid being hit as Ford opened the door. "Well?" Mabel pressed. Dipper asked, "How'd it go?"

For a moment, Ford maintained the stern glare of an imaginary high-ranked government official; and then a goofy, self-conscious grin stretched across his face. "That was actually kind of fun."

####

Powers didn't instruct Trigger to call Dale until they were on the road and the Mystery Shack was safely hidden behind the trees. "We're heading back your way."

"Did you make it inside the shack?" Dale asked.

Powers sighed. "No. We were—intercepted."

"By who?" That was Goldie's voice.

"The same officer who took our flash drive last year."

Her voice got a little louder and quicker. "What did he say? Who is he? How much did he tell you—"

"We'll debrief you when we rendezvous."

She grumbled impatiently, but said, "Fine."

Dale said, "While you were gone, I went through the rest of last year's reports and I'm putting together a preliminary report on what we've discovered. I'll forward it to you and HQ—"

"No," Powers said immediately.

"N... no, sir?"

"Send it to me, but that's it." Powers straightened his back. "We'll be reporting that there were no gravitational anomalies in Gravity Falls."

Trigger stared at Powers and Dale fell silent. Trigger said, "What?"

"There were no anomalies," Powers repeated. "Equipment misreadings. Same with the power surge this past weekend. Very embarrassing for us."

"But... but we have eyewitness reports," Dale said.

"Mass hysteria," Powers said firmly.

Dale said, "Sir, I don't understand—"

"Then I'll explain it when we rendezvous" Powers said. "There's nothing else to investigate in Gravity Falls."

"Nothing—?!" Trigger repeated. "You can't be serious! What about—"

Powers shot him a sharp look. "That wasn't a suggestion, Trigger. Our investigation is over."

Trigger fell silent; and for a moment, the only sound in the car was the slightly unhealthy wheezing of the Gleeful Auto used car engine.

Goldie said, "We can rendezvous at the diner."

Powers nodded. "Good idea." For most of the day, he'd been running on more coffee than food, and it was beginning to catch up with him.

Dale said, "Okay. We'll see you there, sir." Trigger frowned, but he didn't argue.

Powers flipped the turn signal as they moved from a dirt path through the woods to a paved road; he noticed his hand was shaking. He couldn't get out of here fast enough.

####

They retreated to the diner, the waitress who'd seated Powers and Goldie last night escorted the four of them to a booth ("What is this, a double date? That's nice!"); and once they had coffee, Powers quietly told Trigger and Dale what they'd found at the museum and graveyard and told Dale and Goldie what they'd found at the Mystery Shack:

This town was rotten with governmental secrets. By all appearances, it was a veritable dumping ground for cover-ups and conspiracies, starting with its founding by a disgraced secret president and continuing right up until today. The task force operating as "the Society of the Blind Eye" had taken responsibility for keeping these secrets buried; and they weren't just working with the Department of Cover-Ups, they were were being run by it. Their leader was the very same superior officer from the DCU who'd taken their flash drive.

("Wait," Goldie said, "how do you know that?" And when Powers had said he'd introduced himself to them, she'd sucked in a quiet gasp, and then seemed to zone out a moment as she processed the implications of this revelation.)

This "Blind Eye" task force had free rein to erase the memories of any civilians who knew anything about their operations; and those who were permitted to know about the group—no doubt the local police had to be clued in—simply brushed off any questions about mysterious happenings in town. Never mind all that.

The DCU officer said what was happening in the shack was a matter of international security; somebody in this town thought there was somebody dangerous in the Mystery Shack, and they'd made an anonymous report to that effect; the residents in the shack knew how to get radioactive waste far too easily; reports this last weekend claimed the townspeople had witnessed some sort of massive laser beam originating from somewhere near the building; all their investigations last summer had suggested a subterranean doomsday weapon was beneath the shack; and yet, when this "doomsday weapon" went off, nothing happened. As far as Powers could tell—and, he suspected, as far as he'd ever learn—the Mystery Shack was likely some sort of secret weapons testing facility, and when they'd stumbled upon it last year and dug too deep, the Blind Eye had swooped in to confiscate their intel and erase their memories. Some agents' memories more than others. (Trigger and Dale stared at Goldie, trying to remember their lost colleague's face.)

"But... but why us?" Dale asked. "We're not civilians."

"I know," Powers said darkly.

Dale sat back in his seat, staring at his coffee, looking lost.

"I don't like any of this," Powers said. "I understand that a nation must cover up its embarrassing secrets. It's part of a government's duty to hide things from its citizens." (Trigger and Dale nodded in agreement, that was just common sense.) "But... but brainwashing them? Manipulating their memories? Even other government agents? That isn't the America I thought I was serving."

"And imagine what else you still don't know," Goldie said.

"I was trying not to."

"You thought the Blind Eye might be a unit that's gone rogue?" Trigger suggested hopefully. "We could report this DCU officer back to HQ. Perhaps the Bureau should look into..."

But Powers shook his head. "They appear to have ties to the police, and until very recently they were colluding with the Northwests. If they are rogue, they're powerful. We report this, it goes one of two ways. Either our superiors don't know about the Blind Eye, in which case they were left out on purpose and now the entire Bureau is in their ray gun's crosshairs; or they do know... in which case they deliberately put us in harm's way. Twice."

Goldie piped up, "But if the Bureau didn't know about the Blind Eye, don't you think somebody in the past year would have mentioned Trembley to you? Since they shouldn't have know you were taken off that case."

Powers's stomach flipped. "That's true. So—they knew."

Dale slowly shook his head in disbelief. Trigger asked, "But... why? If they don't want us to know what's happening here, why would they let us come back?"

"How should I know? To experiment on whether their brainwashing holds? To get the rest of our memories erased? You heard what he said about the long-range memory gun!"

"Wait," Goldie said, "what did he say?"

Powers grimaced in disgust. "That they didn't just tell us we'd stumbled on a secure facility and ask us to leave because they'd wanted an opportunity to test out a long-range upgrade to the memory gun—and considered us convenient targets."

Naked amazement bloomed across Goldie's face. "He said that?" Her voice was hushed with awe. "Wow. That's—that's diabolical." 

"As diabolical as creating a government-sponsored robe-wearing mind-wiping cult in the first place," he snapped. "I'm sure there's some kind of behind-the-scenes bureaucratic nonsense that made it seem like a good idea, but—!"

Goldie put a hand on his shoulder. He fell silent. She squeezed his shoulder. "Hey. It's all right. There's four of us now. We can watch each other's backs." She gave him a reassuring smile. "As long as we don't tell anybody else what we know, we'll be safe."

He breathed in slowly. "You're right." How lucky he was to have found her—the only person he could trust in Gravity Falls. Perhaps the only person he could trust in the world.

"If we want a chance to do something about the Blind Eye, this must stay between us," he said. "And we just have to hope the Blind Eye's leader is convinced we'll keep their secrets."

####

Goldie had insisted that Powers not drive her "home" to the Mystery Shack—now that they (belatedly) knew the danger, it seemed safer to minimize how many times the residents saw Goldie and Powers together. But she rode with him as far as his motel. It seemed neither of them wanted to leave each other quite yet.

As Powers drove, he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to come back to Washington with us? The Mystery Shack is the most dangerous place you could possibly be staying. And there's a chance we could get you reinstated as an agent..."

"Or, there's a chance they'll tell the Blind Eye that I've regained my memories." (She was right, of course. It had been a foolish, hopeful suggestion.) "Besides, I can't go back there, knowing what I know now—and not knowing what I don't know. We need to find out what's going on in that shack. And as long as they don't know I'm getting my memories back, I'm the only one of us they'll let inside. If anyone can get to the bottom of this whole Blind Eye mess, it's me.

 She picked up the folder she'd left on the car's dashboard, the one they'd taken from the museum, and waved it at Powers. "And hey, I've seen the names of everybody in town who's involved in the cult, remember? I know who to watch out for."

He conceded, "Strategically, keeping an agent in town does make sense. I'm just... worried about your safety."

"Comes with the business. Don't you know I'm worried about you, too?" She reached over to run her fingers through his hair along the back of his head. (It was hard to concentrate on the road.) "But we've both got jobs to do. While I'm here, you can investigate these guys from inside the system. Maybe try to find out who warned the eagles about somebody dangerous in the shack! If you give me their name, I can track them down and... see if maybe they're an ally." (He could see Goldie's smile from the corner of his eye.) "I'd just love to have a conversation with that little whistleblower."

Powers had already nodded in agreement before he realized what he was agreeing to. "You're asking me to spy on our own bureau?"

"I'm not asking for anything. We both already know what's necessary," Goldie said. "They're erasing people's memories. We can't just stand for that. If we don't do something, who will?"

His grip reflexively tightened on the steering wheel. "You're right. If it has to be us, so be it. I'm fine with extensive government cover-ups and secret weapons testing in populated towns; but I draw the line at wiping people's minds! Look at the damage they're doing to people! To their own agents! Look at you—because of the Blind Eye, you've forgotten most of your life, you've forgotten your real name, you've even forgotten how to open doors!"

"Yeesh, you don't have to keep reminding me," Goldie muttered. "Although I'm glad you're indignant on my behalf! Most people around here think it's funny!"

Sometimes, Powers was glad he didn't understand humor. So often, it just seemed like cruelty. "I give you my word, we'll find out who's behind this and how deep their influence goes. And... we'll decide what to do then." Some of the hardness leaked out of his voice as he pulled into the motel parking lot. "I just hate leaving you behind."

"Hey. We'll meet again, promise. In the meantime..." As Powers parked in front of his room, Goldie unclipped one of her earrings—the green triangle that had a gold eye painted on—kissed it, and offered it to Powers. "Something to remember me by!" She winked. "Just keep this with you, and wherever you go, I'll go."

A lump formed in Powers's throat as he took the earring. "Goldie, I..." He couldn't figure out what he wanted to say. Instead, he unfastened his seat belt and leaned toward her; she met him in the middle, coiling her arms around his neck as he pulled her into a deep kiss. He'd hardly gotten used to her presence and he already had to leave her behind.

She broke the kiss to murmur, "By the way—a bit ago, I did remember something about my past life."

"Did you? What?"

"My real first name," Goldie said. "It's Dorabella. But call me Bell."

"Dorabella. It's a beautiful name." He was just brokenhearted that it wasn't familiar. "Stay safe, Bell."

"Stay safe, Gary."

####

Bill blessed the poor besotted agent with one final kiss at his motel door; and somehow managed to suppress a triumphant giggle until after the door was shut.

One little hiccup aside, that went so, so well.

Bill had three suspects for who had ratted him out to the Bureau of Covert Investigations: Soos's fiancée Melody Grue, who hated that Bill was still in the house; Gideon Gleeful, who'd probably just love to get out from under Bill's thumb without Bill being able to trace it back to him; and Old Man Fiddleford McGucket, who must have been involved in getting Ford's gun working because Ford never could have done it alone, which meant he'd probably been told Bill was still alive.

Bill was sure it was no coincidence that the anonymous tipster had reported "someone dangerous" in the Mystery Shack the day after Bill revealed he'd survived his execution.

At the moment, he was most suspicious of Melody. It was too lucky a coincidence that she'd just happened to be absent on the day the agents first came by the Mystery Shack. Because she'd slept bad. Ha. Melody had slept bad since she was five years old. She just came to work tired. But it made a convenient excuse to keep out of the way for a day, didn't it?

Bill was in the shack; he could put pressure on Melody himself. But Gideon and McGucket...? Well—it would be easier for someone with a little more mobility to look in on them.

And it was more efficient to have somebody else do his dirty work.

Bill fished out his eye patch and put it on as he walked several doors down from Powers's to the car he'd noticed the night before with the rising triangle logo of his Death Valley girls. He peeked into the motel rooms nearest the car, then knocked on a door and waited.

"Hel—Cipher? My lord?" Sue stared at him in surprise. "I—How did you find out I'm here?"

"I have my ways."

Her face broke into a grin that she quickly tried to temper. "I'm honored by your visit, but—is it safe for you to be out in broad daylight like this...?"

"Sure! Didn't I tell you the tide's turning?" He gave her a broad smile. "But unfortunately, your god hasn't been given access to the currency you mortals use to do business with each other. Care to help me with a little grocery shopping?"

####

As Powers packed to leave, his mind turned away from Goldie (Dorabella) and the Blind Eye.

Something was rubbing him wrong about the Northwest cover-up.

So Gravity Falls' real town founder was the madman Quentin Trembley; he was replaced in the historical record by the "waste-shoveling village idiot" Nathaniel Northwest, who was immediately made one of the most important men in Oregon and whose descendants were unimaginably wealthy...

Or, rather, they had been wealthy, until they got wrapped up in some kind of muddled financial fraud case last summer. Something about investing the family fortune in some fraudulent bonds that nobody could find any record of.

Years ago, before the BCI approached him, Powers used to work for IRS Criminal Investigation. Everything he knew about the Northwest case seemed wrong. It didn't line up with how crimes like that were supposed to work. It was difficult for con artists to vanish into thin air with that much money and no paper trail—not even any record of their communication with the victim. Suspiciously difficult. Suspicious enough that part of Powers wondered whether the fraudulent bonds were a cover story for something else.

Last summer, Fiddleford McGucket was an insane homeless man living in the town dump. The exact words Goldie had used were "village idiot." Powers remembered seeing him a couple of times in town, as forlorn and destitute a figure as you could imagine. Just a few weeks after they pulled out of Gravity Falls, this insane village idiot spontaneously went sane, filed countless patents, and became unimaginably wealthy overnight... and just so happened to move into the recently-vacated Northwest Manor.

Probably around the same time that the Blind Eye cut ties with Preston Northwest and erased his memories of the society.

It was very interesting for all those patents to come out of the same town as some kind of hidden weapons testing facility and the blueprints for a memory-erasing gun. The gun's blueprints were handwritten; he'd have to compare them to some of McGucket's patents to see if there were any similarities. He'd bet anything that either McGucket was a genius who'd gone undercover for some mysterious purpose at the Blind Eye's behest; or else he was another Nathaniel—a fool to serve as an easily-manipulable figurehead in return for wealth. Powers would have to come up with an excuse to visit him very soon.

And then there were the people in the list of Blind Eye members that Goldie had deciphered. The list contained a couple of prominent local businessmen and the owner of the town newspaper—never the kind of people you wanted to see as part of an organization dedicated to hiding and suppressing information.

But the name that concerned Powers the most was Bud Gleeful, whose name had come up multiple times during the investigation into the Blind Eye. He was the father of a child arrested for conspiracy, fraud, and illegal surveillance. (Surely a child couldn't have done that? And who sends a child to jail, anyway?) Bud's used car lot was apparentlyrecommended to federal agents in need of incognito vehicles. He was addressed in a note on the back of the threatening letter left in Powers's motel room—which suggested that piece of paper had passed through Bud's hands before reaching Powers. And there was a recording of him voluntarily using the Memory Gun on his wife and himself—clearly he was a strong believer in their cause. Powers needed to investigate everyone in the Blind Eye's list of members—but he probably needed to investigate Bud first.

Hopefully he'd find something useful he could pass on to Goldie.

Before he packed up his laptop, he connected to the Bureau of Covert Investigations' system. There was no easy way to see a directory of everyone in the bureau (secret agents, after all; a list of all personnel would be a major security threat) but he at least had access to all the agents who were or had ever been assigned to the Gravity Falls case. Nowhere in the list was there a "Goldie Locke." Just one more thing covered up. HQ clearly wasn't concerned with searching for a missing agent, whether it was because they'd forgotten her or abandoned her.

On a whim, he did an online search for any open missing persons cases with the first name "Dorabella." No cases came up, but he stumbled on something else: the first search result under her name was for the "Dorabella cipher". Goldie was a cryptologist; for a brief moment, he hoped that maybe she had invented some cipher and they could track her identity that way. But no, the Dorabella cipher was a mathematical curiosity—some unsolved ciphertext from 1897. He was no closer to finding out who she was.

Well, until they figured out her real last name... maybe he could privately call her Bell Cipher.

####

Bill knocked on the shack's back door and Stan answered it. Beaming, Bill said, "Happy birthday!" He shoved a cake into Stan's hands and swept past him. "Today we brought a bouncing baby conspiracy theory into the world! That calls for celebration."

"Where did you get a cake?" Stan asked.

"From the grocery store!"

Pacing in the kitchen, Ford asked, "How did you pay for it?" From the twitchy look in his eye, he appeared to be on his fourth mug of nervous coffee.

"I didn't!"

Mabel and Dipper ran halfway downstairs to see what the commotion was. "Bill!" Mabel called. "Did it wor—? You brought cake!"

"I brought cake!" He stepped back to let Mabel zoom past him and seize the cake from Stan. "Anyway, good job, humans, you performed your jobs terrifically! Mabel, your map was amazing, Powers bought it completely—and so fun to play with!" He ruffled her hair as she passed him again to take the cake to the kitchen; and then punched Stan's arm. "Stan my man with the heisting hands, good work at the police department and the motel! He never even noticed that file had been missing!" He turned toward Dipper. "You!" He looked at him. "You did your job."

"Thanks," Dipper said flatly.

Bill swooped into the kitchen. "And Ford!" He flung an arm around Ford's shoulders. Ford shrugged it off. Bill put it back. "Fordsyyy you dark horse, what a performance! You should play villains more often! The fun kind of villain, that is. Not the kind that drags innocent triangles through a mountain."

"'Innocent,'" Ford echoed. He pushed Bill off again and set his coffee down so he could accept the slice of cake Mabel was holding out.

Bill planted both hands on Ford's shoulders to keep him from wiggling away again. "What did you tell those government goons, anyway! I mean, I thought you did a good enough job at the museum last night—but when they got back from the shack, they were shaking in their shiny black shoes!"

"I didn't say anything that remarkable," Ford said. "I just said the shack was a top secret facility and dropped a couple of the biographical details you gave me to convince them I really am with the government."

"And you let them know you're our fake Blind Eye boss?" Bill said. "I am impressed!" (In the next room, Dipper quietly noted that Bill hadn't said he was "sincerely" impressed.) "Here I was afraid our worst-case scenario would be them figuring out we've got one actor playing two parts, but no! You, you made it an asset!"

Ford fought down a flattered smile. "It wasn't that big a leap. It fits in with this conspiracy narrative we're trying to spin."

"And so does the government using its own agents as guinea pigs for mind control weapons! Beautiful! You've upped your roleplaying chops since the last time you dragged me into a DD& More D game."

Ford was losing the battle with his facial expression. One corner of his mouth crept up as he asked, "Did he mention the bit about threatening to use him to find out whether the memory gun accelerates Alzheimer's?"

Bill's eye stretched wide open. "No," he gasped. "No way! Because his mother—? That's sheer evil! Oh, Fordsy, I am sincerely impressed!" (Dipper frowned.) "He'll be thinking about that every time he forgets his wallet for the rest of his life!"

For a moment, Ford's pride began to flag as he stopped thinking about doing an A+ job at protecting his family and started thinking about what this would mean for the agents they'd done it to; but he didn't get long to think about it before Bill went on, "How did you come up with that!"

"Ah," Ford said, "well. It was easy, really. After all, I knew that our goal was to gaslight these men and manipulate them into losing trust in every ally and authority figure they had so we could convince them to put all their trust in a deceptive con artist's word." He paused; and then a sly smile stretched across his face. "So I asked myself, 'What would Bill Cipher say to them?'"

Bill let out a shrill cackle. "Now that's my Sixer!" He ruffled Ford's hair roughly. "Listen to you! Best student I've ever had! Brilliant!"

Mabel shoved a plate of cake between them and jammed it into Bill's diaphragm.  "Here! I added sprinkles." 

Bill and Ford averted their gazes as Bill took the plate. "The cake already had sprinkles! I got one with sprinkles on purpose."

"And I added more," Mabel said firmly. "Grocery store bakeries are way too stingy! It's like they think we're gonna run out of sprinkles or something. Crazy!"

Bill shrugged. "Can't blame 'em. The Great 2015 Sprinkle Shortage is just around the corner." At Mabel's terrified look, he burst out laughing. "Kidding! Kidding! Your planet's never running out of sprinkles, you're fine."

"Jerk." Mabel punched his arm, then went back to cutting up cake.

Stan nudged Ford and muttered, "You're not falling off the wagon, are you?"

Ford grimaced, but he just slightly shook his head.

Stan dug into his cake and raised his voice. "So, I take it the plan worked?"

"Did it work!" Bill crowed. "We'll never see those guys again! I've got 'em convinced that every weird thing in town is tangled up in some secret weapons testing project connected to a Trembley cover-up they've been booted out of, and they'll either get brainwashed or arrested for treason by their own bureau if they keep digging! They—are—gone!" He beamed at the assembled family. "I'm proud of you all! You can't always trust a human to do a good job for duty, for charity, for love, or even for greed; but there's one thing you can always depend on to motivate a human!"

Digging into his cake, Stan asked, "Self-preservation?"

"No, shenanigans! And I love that about you people."

"Is this how you start all the conspiracies you've been involved in?" Dipper asked. He'd come in to accept his slice from Mabel.

"Pff, yeah, pretty much!" Bill rolled his eye. "Behind every giant, globe-spanning conspiracy... there's a very smallconspiracy made up of six regular guys who are really invested in convincing people that a giant globe-spanning conspiracy exists." He grabbed a bottle of tabasco sauce from the counter and started saturating his cake. "And framing secret societies for things they didn't do is always loads of fun!"

Ford had taken a seat at the kitchen table to eat his cake, which he immediately regretted when Bill elected to sit on top of the table and cross his legs. "So you admit you haven't actually run any globe-spanning conspiracies." He exchanged a sideways glance with Stan—get a load of this guy. Stan, mouth full of cake, rolled his eyes in agreement.

"You're impressed with what I can pull off with a non-existent budget, three old fogies, and two children. Admit it." He flung his arms open wide. (Ford moved his head out of the way of Bill's cake plate.) "Anyway, everybody lavish me in gratitude and praise for saving the Stans from federal prison! Go ahead! Shower me in reverence!" He looked at them expectantly. "No? I shoulda kept that cake to myself."

"I'll thank you!" Mabel flung her arms around Bill. "Thank you so much for keeping my grunkles safe. I know you didn't have to, and you still resent them for killing you and everything—so it means a lot to me that you did so much for us."

Bill warred with his expression to keep it steady as four different emotions threatened to cross his face. He patted Mabel's head and said weakly, "Gimme a 'Good Job' sticker and we'll call it even." He cleared his throat. "Hey! Speaking of rewards for good behavior, it was nice running around outside without being leashed like a dog! When's the next time I get to do that?" He looked at Ford and Stan expectantly.

They winced and looked at each other. Stan shoved another forkful of cake in his mouth.

Ford said, "We, uh... we haven't... discussed it—"

"Finished," Stan cut in, "haven't finished discussing it."

"Hmm!" Bill gave them a thin smile. "Okay! Let. Me. Know." He jabbed his fork violently into his cake.

####

"He did just save all our butts," Stan said. He and Ford had retreated to just about the only place where it was safe to talk without Bill eavesdropping: Ford's subterranean study. "He could've thrown us under the bus. What would we have done? Said, 'No, you don't understand, this guy is actually an evil alien triangle who wants revenge on us'?"

After Ford's near relapse into his old Cipherholic habits in the kitchen, he'd been worried that would be the first thing Stan brought up. But to his relief, they were on the same page. "I'm sure there was some self-interest involved," he said. "Bill doesn't have any legal identity, he wouldn't want the government figuring that out. But I'm also sure he could have talked his way out of that. And by all appearances, he behaved himself while out in public. Aside from shoplifting a cake."

"Which was delicious," Stan pointed out. "Nobody's dead, nothing's on fire—that we know about, anyway—"

"And we already know he isn't interested in running away from the shack. He's had at least three opportunities in the past week, and he's come back every time," Ford said. "So..."

So.

They eyed each other uneasily.

"Obviously we can't trust him completely unsupervised in town," Ford said.

"Obviously. He'd start a cult with a thousand dollar entry fee in an afternoon," Stan said. "But..."

But.

Ford said, "All right. Let's come up with some new rules."

####

(No TBOB-related edits in this one I don't think. Even the line about Bill being able to start a cult in a day is pre-TBOB (and pre-TINAWDC).

Anyway!! At long last, the end to this arc! Which expanded a lot more than I expected it to! Looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts. The next big thing we've got is a flashback to Bill's howling void girlfriend (which, amazingly, I was in the middle of writing last summer when TBOB came out... before we found out he canonically had a howling void girlfriend). I'm still deciding whether I wanna post those chapters all together or separate them with some other chapters in between.

But, before we start that, we're gonna chill out and do nothing terribly important for a few chapters.)

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

THE DRIVE- L. HOWLETT

Pairing- Older! Logan x Mutant! Fem! Reader (Enemies to Lovers)

Word Count: 2.6k (an introduction to the series)

Summary: After being put on the goverments watchlist for being an "unsafe" mutant, Logan 'jumps' (tackles) to the rescue, taking you to the X-Mansion. However, you and Logan do not get along... at all.

Warnings: mentions of violence and guns, swearing, logan and y/n not getting along, crying, reader kinda thristing over logan (as one does)

**authors note/ things to note: this may not be lore accurate/ canon because i haven't watched the x-men movies since i was younger, so its roughly based off what i can kinda remember hehe. y/n has jean greys powers, and jean does not exist in this universe, this is nemies to lovers- but a slowww burn :)

"all this sympathy is just a knife, why I can't even grit my teeth and lie? ifeel all these feelings i can't control..."- sympathy is a knife, charli xcx

“I don’t like you.” you stated plainly, crossing your arms with a huff. This was the most blunt you had been with anyone, ever. But you couldn’t help it.

You had known Logan Howlett now for an hour, and it was an hour you would never get back.

“You’re not s’possed to like me kid. You’re supposed to listen to me, which you’re failing miserably at.” the older man growled, barely looking over at you from the driver's seat. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he slammed down on the gas.

You were thankful in that moment seatbelts were invented.

You bet ten dollars Logan was around when they came up with the idea.

He was an asshole.

He was tasked with the mission to get you to safety- as you were a “rogue” quote on quote mutant as the public called your kind. It made your head spin, not only from Logan’s driving but the sheer weight of it all.

One morning you were pouring your orange juice, the next the national guard was surrounding your house, and a man who happened to have claws shoot out of his knuckles had dived and tackled you as the gunfire started.

Now you were here, in an old rusty truck- speeding down a back road through the woods with an old man who seemed to hate everything. On the run, on your way to the mutant academy- to start over, and to learn how to control your powers.

Or so you hoped.

Logan wasn’t making the trip there very pleasant though.

“I’m listening to you. And even if I wasn’t- do you blame me?! After what just happened I don’t know- maybe an hour ago?!” you rolled your eyes, glaring at him hard enough to leave laser beams through his skin.

“You’re a mutant. Get used to it.”

“Get used to it?!”

He shrugged. “That’s what I said, ain’t it bub? I was tasked to take care of you and get you to safety, so I’m doing that. Doesn’t mean you have to like me.”

You huffed, staring out the window at the trees that blurred together, dark leaves falling on the ground as you whipped by. “I don’t like you.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that kid.”

“I’m not a kid, you know.”

He snorted, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Sure.” It was silent in the car for a few minutes, minus the crackly radio, the station starting to cut out as you ventured deeper into the woods.

You leaned forward, turning it off. Silence.

“So… are you actually two hundred?” you asked meekly, darting your eyes over to stare at him. Even if he was a dick, he was handsome as hell. You couldn’t even deny that.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask someone their age?” he mocked.

“Sorry, I forgot elders were sensitive to that kind of thing. Let me know if you need help getting your walker from the back.” you snapped back, as he showed teeth at you- growling.

Good. Piss him off as much as you could, so when you got to the academy he would leave you alone.

He muttered something under his breath, something about how kids these days have no respect (despite you very much not being a child), and you tuned out.

With a sigh, you leaned your head against the window, the events of today taking a toll on your body. You looked up at the clouds rolling by, until they faded away to black.

------------------------------------------------------

Strong arms carried you, and you curled into the warmth they provided, hands clinging to a rock hard chest. You yawned, savouring the rocking motion, until it stopped.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking quickly as you adjusted to the dimming light. It was dark out, stars replacing the clouds from earlier- and two dark orbs stared at you intensely.

You squeaked, stumbling down to your feet, backing away from Logan quickly.

“Good morning.” he smirked at your sudden reaction, your frown lines deeply etched in your forehead compared to how they were a few seconds previous.

“What are you doing?!”

“Walking you to our room.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head.

“Our room?! And I can walk by myself, thank you very much.” He snorted, jangling the keys in his pocket. “Really? I didn’t know you could sleep walk.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Can’t. Already tried.” he said, unlocking the door with a click. 106 was scrawled across the wooden door, and the strong smell of lemon cleaning supplies nearly suffocated you as he stepped inside.

He must have stopped at a motel somewhere along the route- in the middle of nowhere. It was older, not as old as him- but aged. It must have been quiet, you assumed- because Logan didn’t seem like the type of guy to willingly choose to be around people, especially not when on the run.

As shitty as the situation was, you were thankful for a place to sleep, and for a proper bed. The car seatbelt and window was not very comfortable, your neck aching from it rolling down during your nap.

You stepped inside, noting the very obvious couples room, a large bed in the middle of the room, with no pull out couch. You gulped.

“I’ll take the floor.” you stated, as he closed and locked the door behind you. Unease lingered in your stomach.

Please god, do not make me sleep with the Wolverine. I do not have the strength, nor patience today.

“Don’t be stupid girl.” And that was that. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on a little table, flickering on a little side lamp.

You were stunned into silence. You tried so hard not to look.

So. Damn. Hard.

But his muscles were on display, so much so they might as well be their own art exhibit.

His white tank top clinged to his tan skin tightly, and you watched his muscles flex, dog tags jangling on his chest as he snagged a pillow from the bed and tossed it on the floor.

You quickly looked away before he caught you staring, and taunted you for it.

“I’m going to shower.”

No reply. You bit your lip, turning around quietly and tugged your skirt down as you walked in the bathroom and shut the door.

No amount of scrubbing of the shit hotel loofa could get the grime of the day off your skin- soap foaming as quickly as it sputtered down the drain. You tried to stay in the shower as long as you could- dreading the awkwardness that the night would entail- but soon the water turned ice cold.

Shivering, you rinsed off your hair, cranking the taps until water dripped faintly. Wiping the mirror, you stared at yourself in the reflection.

A long scratch darted up your neck, little ones dotting across your arm. You wished you had Logan’s healing abilities. They were ugly, harsh and jagged- standing out like a sore thumb.

You hoped your pjs covered it, you thought, as you wrapped a thin towel across your body, acting as a corset the way it caused your breasts to pop.

Then it hit you. You didn’t have pjs. You didn’t have anything but the clothes on your back (bathroom floor).

Fuck. Could this get any worse?

Not only did you have to sleep in the same room as Logan, you had to ask him for clothes?! Taking a deep breath, you opened the door a sliver, its loud creak echoing throughout the entire room.

“Uh… Logan?”

“Mhgm.”

You poked your head out, eyes darting to survey the space- seeing your bed untouched, long legs poking out from the other end on the floor.

“I- uh.. kinda forgot pjs.”

Nothing, and then a loud laugh emerged from him, his body shaking from the sheer sound of it. “Course you did kid. Here.” he tossed a black t-shirt your way, and it landed on the carpet with a plop.

It would be massive on you, you could already tell- but it was something. Usually you had to go on a few dates and sleep with a guy a few times before you got to this stage. Not an option this time.

You quickly stepped out and grabbed it before he could look up at your (barely) covered body, shrugging it on in the bathroom.

It smelt like him, like whisky and smoke, cider and fresh cut grass. It was comforting, in this moment of chaos. You breathed in the fabric, resting your head against the wall.

Your lip wobbled, hot, salty tears slipping down your cheeks as you gasped for air.

It hurt. Everything hurts.

You were exhausted, hungry and more anxious and overwhelmed than anything. The shock had started to fade, your hands had started to shake and you couldn’t help but break down.

You didn’t care if Logan heard you. The tears continued to fall, body heaving as sobs tore through your body. How was life so unfair? So cruel? Things had changed so fast- and you hadn’t asked for your abilities. You didn’t even know how to control them yet.

But that was what made you dangerous to the government. You thought, growing even more angry with yourself. But how was it your fault?

It made you sick. You just wanted to go home, lay in your own bed and eat your own food, to see your friends and go to work. You never thought those words would leave your lips- but it was true. It was routine, and it was normal.

You felt normal, when you were filing paperwork, talking on the phone to clients. As boring as it could be at times, it was steady.

And now?

You were bouncing around like a ping-pong ball. A coin had been flipped, your fate plastered on either side- and you had lost the draw. Taking a shaky breath, you attempted to regain your composure before facing the judgemental beast outside.

Your eyes were puffy, cheeks sticky and warm with drying tears. Wiping your face, you found the courage to slink back into the main room, flicking off the side lamp Logan had left on. If he had to shower, he could find his way in the dark.

You were sure he could see in the dark- all wolves could- couldn’t they?

Slouching into bed, you gripped the thin sheets tightly- cocooning yourself to try and stay warm. The air was on full blast, despite it being chill outside- and you assumed you had Logan to thank for that.

Great. I’m going to get hypothermia before I even get to the fucking school.

“Do you have to have the air on full blast?” you asked, looking over the side of the bed, watching as Logan crankly peered an eye open.

“Yes.”

“Well could you I don’t know, survey the scene and see it’s cold outside already?”

He huffed.

“I’m warm. I’m always warm.”

“Well that’s not my problem. Be considerate wolf.” you rolled your eyes, hugging the sheets tighter to your body.

“Deal with it kid. It’s staying on- if you don’t like it, sleep outside.”

Well that made you sit up.

“You’re such a dick.”

“Yeah getting a motel room and letting you have the bed- real dick move eh?”

You huffed, gritting your teeth together. This man was pushing your buttons more than they had ever been pushed before. You hated how much he got under your skin. It was like you had your own set of claws, that only he could set off.

“Well I shouldn’t even be in this situation.”

“Yeah we all think that. Shut up and sleep.” he growled, rolling over to face away from the bed.

“You could at least have some respect.”

That was all you asked for, anyways. You had shown him it even when you were in deaths way, thankful for him for saving you. He didn’t show an ounce of it back.

“I’m not giving you any sympathy, if that’s what your asking.”

It felt like a knife had stabbed you in the back, twisting your insides. You whipped up again, throwing a pillow at his face.

“I’m not asking for your fucking sympathy you old piece of shit!” you yelled, earning nothing but silence in return.

He was over you.

Fine. You could do the exact same thing- but better.

Turning your back to him (a dangerous thing to do, you thought), you squeezed your eyes shut and listened to the hum of the air conditioning unit.

Not long after, the weight of the day pulled you back under the waves of sleep again.

--------------------------------------------------

“Wake up kid.” a gruff voice called out to you, a firm hand shaking you. You awoke with a start, blinking until the room came into focus.

Two beaded eyes stared at you narrowly from above you, rolling as you mumbled. It was still dark out, as no light showed through the thin curtains.

The clock read 5:00 and you sighed.

“Breakfast on the table. Get dressed and we’re leaving.”

“Good morning to you too.” you grumbled, rubbing sleep out of your eye. A very stale looking muffin sat on the table, next to Logan’s black coffee.

“Why are you feeding me?” you asked, walking over to take a dry bite. You were famished. Eating anything completely slipped your mind.

“Because Charles would kill me if I didn’t. I said I’d look after you. You can’t starve.”

“Jeez I thought that was the plan all along.”

It tasted like sand in your mouth as you took a bite. You were grateful for it, nonetheless. “I never said I wanted you to starve.” he grumbled to himself, taking a long sip from his mug.

“It was heavily implied.” you spat, turning over the mini coffee bar, finding a kettle and a bag of earl grey. You waited for the water to come to a boil, the kettle screaming at you while you poured it.

You were ready for this day to be over and it hadn’t even begun yet. You had a feeling you would have to get used to it- or else it would eat you alive.

Just like how Logan looked right now- like he’d tear your limbs from you and chew them. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“When you finish that we’re leaving. You got five minutes.” he said, grabbing the truck keys from the table. “Five minutes? I haven’t even had a chance to wake up yet!”

“Too bad. We gotta go kid.” He slammed the door hard behind him, rattling the frame as he unlocked the vehicle.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, asshole.” you mumbled under your breath, chugging down the rest of your tea as fast as you could. If you were back home you would have the morning to lounge around in a bathrobe, sipping your tea slowly with a book and some fresh fruit.

The odd time you would use your powers to move the toast to the toaster, or to move your slippers to your feet. But that was no longer the case.

The tea tasted bitter as you chugged it, burning your throat. You shrugged on yesterday's clothes, running into the bathroom to splash cold water on your face.

The front door swung open and before Logan could protest- you bolted out the room. “I’m out, I’m out. Jesus.” Scrambling to the front seat, you watched as Logan glared over his shoulder, slamming the door.

It was going to be an extremely long drive.

[the-monkeies-girl]

Cleopatra. ( Caesar x Pregnant! Human Reader, Drabble Series. POTA )

I should not listen to myself i said 5 drabbles well well here we are with like 6 and close to 7K words and most of them are smaller oneshots AH. Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated. I am working on a similiar piece for NOAAAAA!!!!

Beginnings. ( Drabble 1. )

You felt like you couldn’t breathe - the air was sticking onto your lungs, coating them in ashen dust that was laying on the ground of the woods. You needed to move --- Okay, maybe not, grunting that inside of your mind as you attempted to shift your head just a bit to get a bearing onto your surroundings proved futile as red hit your eyes and your neck convulsed under the usual movement. Pain radiated from the back of your head, down to the base of your neck and stagnantly danced on the nerves piled there. Even shifting to press your hand against your stomach was an endeavor and even then, the blood that was on the palm of your hand… You squinted at it, fear setting in as the last drop of whatever adrenaline you had faded into obscurity.

 Was… Was that your blood? Trying to swallow was impossible, planting your face down into the mud and letting out a strangled cry as you attempted to move once again, your teeth gritting against each other but in the scape of the situation, that felt heavenly as compared to the tattering that was running through your muscles. Saliva began mixing into the already impure snow under your body having been mixed previously with mud. One foot, you tried to convince yourself. You just needed one… On… One… Looking down at your right foot as you managed to get yourself kneeling, accomplishment was short-lived as your ears rang, your center of gravity disappearing as did your vision. Falling back, your body was hard to hit the ground. 

In a fitted haze of unconsciousness, you could have sworn you were… Swooped up in one foul move by a set of arms that were much hairier than a humans. Warm, you had thought to yourself, but that could be swelling in your brain telling you that death was on the horizon. Death… Sounded nice versus the incredible tremors of your body, throwing into a it of hypothermia, a cusp of bruises and cut-marks aligning against your already frigid skin to the point where it felt you were going to shatter into shards if you were moved too quickly, to feverishly. How selfishly you wanted to open the door where the knock was coming from. But you had more to think about than just yourself now. 

Flinching at the pain of your abdomen, a pair of hands were astute enough to deduce your intensely fragile situation. 

What… is happening?

Voice of God, it had to be. It trembled in a deep setting baritone, hard and unforgiving. Yes, you wanted to cry, I am with Child but I… Can’t find it in myself… to live…

Found in woods! Nearby Human Camp--- This voice was light and airy but you were unable to process the words that came after that, your mind bending into a haze as you tried to get yourself into a state of lucidity so you could actually focus.  Brought back to Colony when saw she was still alive.

Colony? You wanted to tilt your head but in your jilted state, you were unable to move.

With Child. Not far along, but both will survive if we keep her here and heal.

This voice was a bit more soft spoken, gentle and caressing like the hands that were now placed on your head, your eyes refusing even the most basic of knowledge from your brain to get them open. It smelt like conifer, the highest tree possible, a bird sitting atop and watching the inklings of the ground below its mighty perch. Heaven? There was a lax in the air of contemplation before the baritone voice from earlier spoke. 

She will stay, do what you can to heal. 

And with that command and your mind taking itself to the darkness, even in the state of your eyelids being shut, everything went black. 

Empathetic Ape. ( Drabble 2. )

It did not take long after you finally willed yourself out of your semi-coma to realize that you… Had been taken prisoner by a Colony of Apes. In your mind, you drew the conclusion from the snippets of the conversation you got when you were first brought here in your altered state of reality that… They had found you. Half-alive and brought you back to the Colony at the bid of their King. This… Your eyes narrowed a small bit as you looked over the giant and sweeping bonfire that was built in the middle of this communal space. This Caesar. 

There was irony in the name itself, and you just had to wonder if he knew that. You had woken up nearly a month ago, fading in and out, but able to keep yourself stable enough to process that… They were being kind in healing you. They knew, you drew your arms closer to your stomach as you tightened the animal pelt around your shoulders and gave Caesar a wide stare as he looked over at you, your actions must have torn him from his conversation with the others around him. They knew you were pregnant. They must have thought they were sparing you, not telling you the detailed nature of the camp when they had found you. The--- You choked a small cry, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. The bodies. Your friends. Your family. Your--- Squeezing your eyelids shut, you couldn’t bear to think about it any longer and forced a swallow down before looking at the fire rather blandly. “Do not know… much,” That voice! You jumped on your spot, clutching the pelt even harder and causing your knuckles to go white. Your eyes scaled from the jumping flames, up the hackles of an Apes legs and rested uncomfortably in a sea of green, ablaze from the depths of the fire itself. You swallowed lightly, watching him move in petulant silence as he sat next to you, bowl in his hand. Caesar. Caesar. Your mind was wailing like an old police car.

“About human… Pregnancy.” No shit, you wanted to retort sarcastically but you held your tongue as he held out the bowl in his hand. Fruit. And… You squinted. Roasted fish? Your stomach churned at the prospect of having something other than a slurry of ground up food, something the Apes that were aiding you to heal often fed you as a means to get the food down as fast as possible. Faster, no chance of morning sickness, right? Wrong. You found yourself kneeling over and getting sick more times than you could count. “Might be similar to Ape, but do not know.” In between his choppy English, you grasped the plate carefully with one hand and brought it into your chest with the smallest ‘thank you’. It wasn’t as if the Female Apes that were healing you were awful, they weren’t cordial though. It felt they only did what they needed to to appease the Ape next to you. Strong, mighty and all encompassing Caesar. “I am…” You had begun eating, chewing mildly so as to not disturb the tone of Caesar’s voice. Waving right around the edges, or it could have been your imagination in the front of the roar of a fire, “Sorry…” Furrowing your eyebrows at that, you picked the fish with your pointer finger, suddenly not at all invested in eating as bile switched in your throat. “Lost my mate,” He continued on, your eyes dead-set and widening as you realized he was… displaying empathy. Your mind fogged for a moment. They were capable of that? “Only recently,” Gesturing to the perch you had found yourself watching him on earlier in the evening, he was making direction towards the broader chest of one of the Females that took care of you here. Squinting, you gasped quietly. They were so small, so ingrained in the fur that it was hard to tell there was a baby there, until their tiny head turned to the side and much to your surprise, you were met with a mild azure rather than the scrutiny of green you were so used to. “Blue Eyes, my Son. Mother lost after… Birth.” Not meaning to seem rude, your tried to keep your mouth from falling open dramatically, but it did partially split. “Complications from childbirth?” Surprised at the gentle nature of your voice, you felt a tear slide down your right cheek and you were quick to brush it away. Like it mattered, once one started, there was a flood soon to come. He only nodded, silent and a bit less intimidating than the times you had seen him, times you had interacted before this. “I---” you choked a bit, looking down at the bowl in your hands that Caesar was gracious enough to bless you with, “Don’t know wh-what happened to my husband… Was…” Narrowing your eyes in slight suspicion, you glanced over at him briefly when your voice tapered into nothingness but you forced yourself to speak the next question with no animosity. You needed to know the answer. “Was it Apes?” He’d know the answer, you bargained. Being a King and all. That’s what it was to be a Leader. You knew the good, and you knew the bad. And even worse than all of that, you knew the carnage. “No.” He was assured in that answer as his gaze met yours once again, this time, instead of finding yourself looking away, you drifted towards it, towards some comfort that someone else… Knew about the absolute torn away nature of your heart and how it was so empty now.

“Humans.” There was a twinge of assurance in his voice as he rose, gesturing to the bowl he had given you. “Keep strength up. Not just for yourself, but for…” His eyes flickered down to your stomach, minute in nature but he may as well have been gawking at you. “Child.”

Baby Blue. ( Drabble 3. )

A few months passed and you found yourself easing into the Colony, despite the disgruntled comments you got from a certain Bonobo who shall not be named. That was your nickname for him, and that’s how it remained as Winter fell off and Spring blossomed, the wildflowers bustled through the ground, through the snow that was still encapsulating its livelihood. All of it was going to be gone by the end of the day, you thought mildly as you looked at the Sun.

Taking a bid from Caesar himself, you were basking in the rays, sitting atop a rather comfortable tree trunk that had been rolled onto its side as a means to be sat on. He had convinced you to leave your hut earlier in the day, telling you that Sun was good for Ape pregnancy, it must be good for Humans. There was no intense argument to be made as you gave him a delicate smile, nodding in agreement and finding yourself drenched deliciously in mild-warmth, your scattered and torn paperback book sitting in your lap. 

Looking down at it… You felt a deep yearning and pressing sensation hit your chest. You were showing. Not much, you were sure that the other Apes had yet to notice any change with you, not that you could blame them. As you got adapted to living with them, you became just another part of Colony life and they paid you no heed. Unless you were late for meals. Then Luca was on you ( something you thought that Caesar was responsible for, but it turns out the Silverback was genuinely concerned for you at times ).

 In your time here, he had become your closest ally, even going as far as to call him a friend. He made gentle comments, telling you how glowing you looked today, something he must have heard through the grapevine that humans said about pregnancy, he told you how wonderful it was that your baby was developing, and that you were beginning to actually show. He had explained that with Apes, they all grew small. Small to the point where it was undetectable. You envied that, placing a soft hand against your bump and sighed deeply. Soon, no Ape here would be able to walk past you without gawking, without it looking like you had stolen a ripe melon and decided to shove it under your shirt. 

There was chittering to your side, your head wiping over to investigate. Not too quickly though, even though time had passed, your neck still felt sore if you went to fast in your movements. Blue Eyes, much like yourself, was growing. The phase of always clinging to a Female, or even better, your guilty pleasure when you wanted to see something abnormally cute, clinging to Caesar’s chest, were coming to a close and he was becoming more curious of the world around him, much like yourself.

Chuckling at the fact that you were drawing comparisons to a baby Chimp, you grunted and picked him up as he so often liked to held by you when you would read pages from your book. He had to learn speech, right? And who better to learn from than from a Human who had impeccable --- Well, you tilted your head and smiled at the baby as he crawled himself up your arm, around your shoulder and then back down the other arm, decent skills in English. 

He paused at the same time that you did, a fluttering capturing your abdomen. Was that… It happened again, this time more fervently, your mouth falling into an ‘O’ shape, and any Ape who saw you at this moment were probably assuming that you were laughing. “Did… did you feel that?” You bent your head down and gawked at Blue Eyes, who gave you a small tilt of the head as he placed his dainty hand right upon the top of your bump. Right where you had felt the sensation. The butterflies - The - The… Your baby. 

“You felt that.” Confirming that, Blue Eyes hooted in your lap as a response. You had no idea what he was saying as tears hit the back of your eyes as your face contorted. You began openly sobbing, not a care in the world if anyone saw you. 

Caesar was perched in his normal spot, having just dismissed the council. Koba lingered as he usually did, giving comments about you, about you being with child and how dangerous of a game it really was. But, the King was in no mood to listen to that and told Koba that he would need time to think about his words and they could discuss at a later time.

Blue Eyes-- He had jumped off Caesar’s shoulder mid-meeting. Probably scavenging somewhere for some berries, most likely pestering you though as that slowly became the small Prince’s favorite pastime. Not that Caesar was one to complain. It came with benefits. You were good with Blue Eyes, you were gentle and kind and it gave Caesar actual time with his own thoughts without having to dally on his child. 

He peered down the rock ledge. Spotting you was easy, your scent often gave away your where-abouts to Caesar. Green eyes hit the back of your head first, admiring the tousel of your hair on this particular day and how it appeared naturally highlighted in the sunshine.

You had been reading, Caesar’s suspicions confirmed. Blue Eyes was with you and was most likely getting a mouth full from whatever you were reading to him. Then the shaking of your shoulders. Caesar’s eyes narrowed upon seeing his Son’s small hand on your stomach. He wasn’t… No, no, Blue Eyes wasn’t hurting you, the gentle touch he had was too soft to inflict damage of any sort. Watching in contemplation of whether he wanted to go down there and see what was happening, he saw your hand come up as you lightly placed it on Blue Eyes’, holding it against the shelf of your stomach that was becoming more pronounced. Caesar stopped himself from moving and just… Surveyed. He could hear your mild words fluttering through the air like dandelion seeds. “I think it’s a boy.” Chittering from Blue Eyes. “A girl? Are you sure?”

Camp. ( Drabble 4. )

Caesar had told you that on their most recent delectation of Hunting, on top of snagging a few Elk for the Colony, they had fallen upon what appeared to be a deserted human settlement. He estimated it had been abandoned for only a year, maybe less. Some of the things were coated finely in dust from the woods, no implications that it had been there since the beginning of the Flu and it was in remarkable condition.

He didn't dig into it though, unsure of what items you were in more need of than others and had chosen to come back home and tell you of it. You were prompt to accept the offer to go with him two days from when he told you, now in the present you were teetering yourself to keep balance on the uneven floor of the woods, opting to walk when you were concerned of riding a horse while pregnant. He told you it wasn’t much farther, having left shortly after dawn and stopping a few times as you severely needed to relieve yourself behind a tree, having to tell the Ape King himself not to watch you as he was pretty concerned you could be attacked while out of his sight. Ideas flurried in your mind as you drew closer, Caesar having just stopped to take in the surroundings.

He banked right, and you were quick to follow. You thought about what pieces of clothing you had. Things were beginning to not fit, you were rounding out and getting plump. Your favorite cargo pants were hanging on by a literal hair-tie that you had been using to keep them shut by the front button, your favorite shirt… Well, the Apes, you joked in your head, must have been tired of seeing the bottom of your stomach always innately displayed. 

Some larger shirts would do the trick, nothing needed to be Maternity in a world where that was considered a privilege and luxury. To put things plainly, as you had told the Ape King, who was kind enough now to give you a helping hand right down a small embankment, his other hand coming to ghost right under your bump to keep your center of gravity, leaving you with a wild tinted blush against your cheek when you scuffled against him, chest to bump for a few seconds, beggars could not be choosers. 

Pulling away from Caesar’s grasp was never an easy thing. You wanted nothing more than to sink into him, sink into the tender moments where he had you alone, and vice versa. The late nights of restlessness you found yourself in at times, thinking of your lost family, your husband, the conversations in front of the dying fire where he had finally laid bare his feelings and emotions about the loss of his wife.

Spotting glances through the day, Caesar laid his hands on you only when he was easing to help you. He had taken note that while Cornelia was small, and Chimpanzees were known to carry small, you were quite a delicious spectacle to his eyes in all the best ways and he considered your attention something he actively sought now, though, he was unsure if he was willing to ease himself into admitting that. 

Rounding a large Red Wood, your eyes were witnessed to the camp. If you felt like running, you would surely do that but the fear of falling flat on your face stopped you as you tore away from Caesar and trekked ahead of him, only giving him a glance over your shoulder as if you were asking if it was okay to go in front of him. He did not nod, but he didn't object as you gave him a smile and quickened your pace, hand on the underside of your growing baby to keep yourself steady enough as you sauntered.

The outside was remarkably sparse, nothing to really indicate that Humans had been there, other than a firepit and a few strewn bags like they packed and left in a hurry. But, once you were able to really get your teeth sunk into the abandoned building, from the set up of an old restaurant of sorts, you were able to get a taste of things you had missed. You felt like crying as you came upon a table with a few pieces of clothing on it. Upon further inspection, they were Men’s, XL. Without hesitation, they were placed into the bag that Caesar had provided for the occasion. Three shirts, one red, one black and one white. Basic, but you were bursting at the seams. All you needed were some pants! Maybe some undergarments if there were any. It felt like you were in a retail store! So exciting---

Feet coming to a slow pause they eventually stopped moving and billow of dust remained underfoot. Your eyes wanted to blink, but you were unable to stop. Caesar must have seen you, having rounded you and obscured your vision from what you were focused on in a darkened corner. He didn't touch you, he wasn’t sure if that was allowed as tears slid down your cheeks.

One at a time before they came down in a torrential rain. You pushed past him as if he weren’t even there and trailed forward, dropping to your knees without reserve as you grasped the small teddy bear into your hands. There was a name embroidered upon it. Fingers touched the thread, pink in color. Cedar. 

Caesar drew near you carefully, the sob you let out was nothing short of shocking and he felt the hackles of his fur standing on edge as if someone were there intentionally hurting you. 

“A… baby…” You whimpered to him, holding up the bear for him to take. He saw nothing special about it as he grasped it with one hand and you shuffled on your hands and knees, baring the pain it was causing you against the tile flooring and came upon a few tangled up pieces of clothing. Small. So… So very small… “Th-They had a baby…” Crying out again, you grasped the clothing and held it in your hands before falling back onto your butt, “Do-do you think they-they’re still alive?” Caesar had no words, his eyes widened at the turmoil you were suddenly thrusted in. No explanation, perhaps those… Pregnancy hormones you had joked about from time to time, Caesar thought and narrowed his eyes on you. He didn't… know how to comfort you. You were crumbling down right in front of him.

He knew you were going to need help getting off the ground though, and he was careful to crouch next to you. Plucking the baby clothing out of your hand, he placed them lightly onto the floor, your eyes squeezing shut and without a word, you collapsed right against. Caesar was fast to react, grunting a small bit as he moved himself, and then you enough to get your body to sit in his actual arms rather than against him.

“B-B-B-...” You stuttered, the Ape hoisting you upwards to get you out of the dusty nature of the floor, you clung onto him tightly. “Do-Do you think they…” Caesar surged a bit at your implied questions, grasping you that much tighter. The side of your bump conformed against his broad chest. “I--- I am sure they got out. That they are fine.” He did not feel comfortable bluntly lying about something that he had no basis for, but as the tears fell from your eyes, as you grasped his forearm tightly, your fingers digging to the point where you were touching his skin and no longer his fur, Caesar didn't care. He’d lie his tongue off just to get you to a sense of comfort. 

Bumping Foreheads. ( Drabble 5. )

The water surging against your back felt incredible. Pressing your hands to the small of your back, right above your tailbone you grunted gently and eased back into the chill of the small waterfall you had been blessed to enjoy in the spotting Summer evenings. It was still early in the season, but it was beckoning you more and more to enjoy. You knew that Caesar was in the area - probably only meters away, and paying his eyes attention elsewhere as to not see you naked, but his hearing and his scent were always on the prowl. Three times a week he’d bring you to the secluded waterfall, letting you bathe and release the tension he knew that your body was going through. 

You were large - to the point where you had accidentally bumped into a bowl of blueberries this morning and it went tumbling down the rock face. Before you managed to cry though, Blue Eyes began eating them right off the ground and Caesar even blessed you with a mild joke of ‘they… are not completely… ruined’. That did make you feel better as you sniffled and nodded in agreement. All things were cleared away when you took in the water, letting the chill seep into your pores as you tilted your head backwards to let it drain against your face. Feeling the kick on the side of your stomach, you winced at the severity of it against your ribs as your baby had turned to start playing against the bones there to let you know they were content with the water too. Maybe a bit cold for their tastes, but they were snuggly inside of your stomach, wrapped in eternal warmth until you were ready. Until they were ready, you thought, laughing and pressing your fingers against the side of your abdomen. They reacted right away to your touch, something like a hand or foot pushing back and you took in the sight of your stomach stretching with their movements. 

You had no care in the world anymore. Hell, you thought to yourself in your bliss of the moment, you’d let Caesar see you bare in all your glory. It was the most comfortable. Clothes were restricting, especially in the heat that started to stick around in the early afternoons into the evenings. You thought about that again… You’d… Let Caesar see you either way. The vague notion left you more than amused. He must have thought it pretty grotesque what your body was doing to itself in a bid to grow another Human. 

The stretching of your skin, the wild-card emotions that you became comfortable letting loose around him, your breasts were unfortunately too big for any of your undergarments and you were unable to find one that was accommodating and you ended up going the last few weeks without one. You could have sworn you’d seen him staring at them, but that could have just been in your mind as ravishing ideas ran through you and rested rather uncomfortably between your legs when Caesar stared at you a bit too long. How you tried to push aside the feeling.

The pestering in the back of your head. Maybe, just the hormones, you tried to convince yourself over and over. You were pregnant, you were alone… It made sense, right? To… Want to be… satisfied? Your thoughts came to a slow stop as you looked down at yourself. Unable to see your feet, you still wiggled your toes like you were able to and sighed deeply. He probably found you unattractive beyond belief. 

“Are you… done?” Caesar asked, not shouting but loud enough for you to hear over the waterfall itself. He was close, as you had suspected, his deep baritone coming from the right of you. “Nearly sundown.”

“Yes. Can you toss my blanket on the shore for me to grab?” You asked, waddling yourself out of the water's way and into the open space of the small river that the water trickled into, grasping your hair and wringing it out. That was the rule. He’d throw your blanket on the ground, you’d wrap yourself up in it so he couldn’t see you naked, and you’d dry yourself, re-cloth your body and head back to the Colony, less than a click to the west. 

With your arms still in your hair and your eyes shut as you enjoyed the last feelings of water against you, you could hear Caesar moving. Figuring that the blanket had been placed previously, you thought nothing of it and thought that he was just moving out of the way again as to not see you bare. Releasing your hair with a small groan, you opened your eyes and looked at the shore. Green.

Green eyes.

Green eyes staring at you.

Green eyes staring at you while you were naked.

Caesar didn't move. It appeared he was completely frozen, blanket still in his hands and you were flashing him without reserve. If you were able to move quickly, you were sure you would but you found it difficult to do as you wadded through the water with a fast paced waddle. At least, it was fast for you, it probably looked pretty comical to the Ape. Caesar was still frozen, his eyes had drifted downwards towards your chest to linger for a moment before they finally rested right on your bump. Protruding… And not appealing, you groaned internally and clutched the blanket right out of his hand and untangled it. 

“Caesar.”

Nothing, he was still looking at your bump as you wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. “Caes--” Your hands were grasped. Actually, it was more or less your wrists and with one swoop, the blanket was pooling at your feet and you brought your knees together for a moment when he caught eyes with you before they trailed right back down your body. Supple breasts, he noted, nice, nice bump, he had only really seen a pregnant human this close to him through the screen of a TV back when he was with Will.

The rounding, dipping between your legs--- Caesar stopped himself at that and trailed his gaze back upwards to rest right on the top of your bump, looking down at it.  Being self-conscious finally hit you as you tried to hide yourself away from the judgment he was placing down on you, but Caesar just… Admired. You supposed that was the right word, you had no premonition as to what he was thinking or what he was do---

Without even asking, his hand was placed on you. Not just on you, but on the bump that encased your baby. Right on the underside of it, he drew his hand in as far in as it would go. Shuddering at the chilly nature of his already leathery skin, your eyes widened, mouth ajar as your breathing had picked up.

With your mind racing, you were frantic to look into his eyes to get any idea of what he was thinking, even if it meant you needed to tear his head open just to get a glimpse. Your bottom lip quivered at the feeling, a direct response your body was giving to the fact that you were being touched. No, no… Your knees went weak for a second, but Caesar grasped you with his free hand under your elbow to keep you steady, refusing to relent control on your stomach. You were being caressed. 

“I-I’m probably fatter than the Apes get.” You tried to get him to look at you, you tried to get him to say something other than standing defenseless. “I---” Gasping quietly, Caesar moved his hand from the undercarriage to the top where he brushed the pads of his fingers in the most feather-like way he was able to muster. It tickled, but you bit your tongue in a bid to see what he was doing. You knew, oh how you knew now, he wasn’t going to hurt you. 

“Have never seen…” He started.

“Yeah, well, we get fat.” You joked again, jolting your shoulders forward for you to cup your arms on top of your bump and shield yourself from his eyes. Before you even had a chance to do that though, Caesar's free hand that had previously been cupping your elbow moved. You had no time to react as he cupped the back of your head and brought it towards his own. Breathless, not due to the baby for once, you swallowed hard, shutting your eyes and let it happen. Caesar’s forehead lightly kissed your own.

Lightly at first, but as he tangled his thick fingers into your hair, he pulled your neck towards his own with a bit more fever, his own eyes squeezing shut at the silent admittance. The hand that was tracing your bump remained, but now was placed on the side. His entire hand spread, finger to finger, across the entire scape of your skin and you sunk into it with a small moan of satisfaction. This… you thought, letting your eyes flutter open for just one moment so you could see him this close to you. This was where you belonged.

Birth. ( Drabble 6. )

The intensity of your screams were not for the faint of heart, and you figured that was the case and shared sentiment of the Female Ape midwives that flanked your entire body, one working diligently between your legs to gauge your dilation. Caesar had known it to be hard for Humans, their babies were much larger than Ape babies and required a lot more pushing and vigor to actually induce birth. Hours, he thought to himself, his eyes tired and red around the edges, his hand, as tough as it had been for years, was nothing more than a swelled appendage from your hand grasping at it so tightly, fingernails digging into the calloused skin when another contraction set in your vision and racked your entire body of all senses. 

You were beyond sweating, you felt like you were swimming as Caesar brought his free hand up to wipe some of your wet hair away from your face. His skin felt cold against you, and for that, you leaned your head into the small wave of affection from him before another shot of pain dripped through you relentlessly. 

“I can’t do this!” You cried, your knees shaking as the midwife looked at Caesar who only nodded with a hard swallow. They were telling him in silence that you were ready. 

“You can.” He assured, but that felt fruitless as you hunched forward, bump contouring all sorts of ways in a very unnatural way that made even Caesar uncomfortable but he was steady fast and refused to leave your side. He knew this, he had been through this with Cornelia… He tried to not linger on that for too long. 

Things would be different, he tried to keep optimism alive as the midwife told you verbally that it was time to push. The extrusion on your face caused the Ape King to shut his eyes for a moment as you grunted out, attempting to push the baby from your body to greet the world. Yes… He laxed himself and reached around your entire head to hold onto you as you screamed to the highest heavens, things were going to be different. You… You could do this. You were going to preserver and you would have a new addition to the family that Caesar had already provided for you. He knew he couldn’t cry, not in front of the others, but how he just wanted to take all your pain away. It was hard not to go feral, the simple smell of your blood and sweat were eradicating his entire nose. He didn't dare look down and kept his green gaze focused on the side of your face as he was propped next to you, laying in the nest. “Ohhhh my god!” You jolted with another push, breathing rapidly and it felt like your entire chest was suddenly on fire after being cold for so long. Plunged into an ice bath and then sent to the depths of a volcano. “Caesar!” One more. The midwife signed at Caesar one handed, the other properly braced between your legs. 

“You need to give one more,” Caesar said and brought his hand through your hair once more. Swallowing, you felt a shudder run down your spine at the prospect of having to give it more despite giving it your all already. You were being torn in half, someone grasping both legs and pulling with all their might and they wanted you to give more. Strangling a cry out, Caesar brought his forehead down and planted it directly onto yours. “One more…”

As if a robot shocked back to life, Caesar still holding onto your head and moving forward as you braced yourself, you gave it one more as commanded. The sheer terror of your scream faded into the wails of a baby… A… baby… Your mind fogged. Concern swept over the Ape as he grasped the side of your face. “A girl,” He told you, breathing against your cheek and right into your ear, “A girl.” 

Repeating that seemed to bring you right back from the trenches as tears flooded down your face, mixing deliciously with the sweat that had fallen from your forehead. Even now, you felt you were unable to breathe as you tried to smile - It was a forced grin of sorts, Caesar could tell that you were still in pain, but the crying of the baby… Caesar finally allowed himself to look down as the midwife was fast to adjust them properly in their arms before drifting upwards carefully to place them against your bare chest.

They were smeared with blood but… His eyes admired their small features. Carbon copies almost of your own when you were scrunched up for sleep. You have done it. You… Grew this… You made this Human and you preserved through the endeavors of birth. You began crying alongside your baby, hands reaching up and grasping at them lightly to keep them close to your chest. 

“Girl.” You finally managed to say something, your throat dry and incredibly hoarse. “Girl?” Asking that to your mate, he nodded and brought a hand up to rest against the child's small head.

“Girl.” Caesar confirmed.

Bonus ending:

Blue Eyes… Was incredibly cautious upon hearing the wailing of a human baby to the point where he grasped at Caesar’s chest with his small frame with all his might, his gaze intent on staring down whatever was causing the noise. With a small hush, you got them to quiet down against you, now lightly wrapped in a blanket you had for this very moment. 

‘New sister.’ Caesar signed for the Prince, looking at the now newly adorned princess with a soft gaze. ‘Say hello.’ He was still hesitant, but at the urging of Caesar himself as he placed Blue Eyes on the nest by your feet, you both watched in anticipation as the small Chimp moved his way up your body, making eye contact with you in a flurry of affection and happiness that you were still here. It had been an entire day where you and Caesar were gone and he was left to hang with the other Young Apes with Maurice, and he hadn’t the slightest clue where you were until now. Until… He crawled onto your shoulder as he so often did, your eyes shutting for a moment as he played along your hair before his gaze fell to the bundle in your arms. 

It was your turn to speak, “Blue,” He looked at you, suddenly frantic at the sound of your voice like he had forgotten, “This is your baby sister… Cedar.”

Bonus Ending ( 2 ):

Three Months Later.

Caesar, in his wildest dreams, never imagined he’d be holding a human baby, let alone the one of his mate. His tender gaze rested on you as you were laying in the nest, wrapped tightly in for a nap with Blue Eyes resting beside you, as he had offered to care for the baby that afternoon when you complained of being adversely tired. He did worry upon his offering that it would be difficult to care for them alone, but he didn't realize just how much they actually slept and Cedar seemed really intent on doing that in the warmth of her Father’s arm. 

He drew his gaze down to look at her. 

So small, and so gentle… Every day, Caesar thought to himself, she looked more like you. So beautiful.

Was she… Caesar’s brows furrowed for a moment at the curling of the baby’s mouth. She was… Smiling. Right up at him. Familiar, her head tilted towards Caesar’s chest minutely but the movement was there for him as he swallowed hard at the sight. 

She smiled at him.

Bonus Ending ( 3 ):

Five Years Later.

“Cedar, you need to get down from that tree right now!” You yelled, looking at the Chimp sitting next to the human, high up off the ground. Well, not that high up. Maybe two or three meters at the most but the idea of a fall was not for the faint of heart as the two young laughed. 

‘We climb higher,’ Blue Eyes signed to his sister. ‘That way mom cannot find us.’

There wasn’t any contemplation. Cedar nodded in agreement, grabbing the bark and began her ascent. 

“CAESAR!!! OUR SON BROUGHT OUR DAUGHTER INTO A TREE AND I CAN’T GET THEM DOWN! I SWEAR THEY GET THIS UNRULY BEHAVIOR FROM YOUR SIDE OF THE FAMILY!”

[lackinggravitas]

sup gamers. here's a wee 2k fic based off of @babyblankyerror's au idea of stan being raised by wolves... i like the idea and the topic of children being raised by animals is interesting to me so here! a little drabble of long lost brothers meeting.... and not recognizing each other :-) (i changed the animal to coyotes tho. just cause i like those more)

ill prolly write more to this some time, but here's some feral stan and dense ford for now

part 1(you are here!) / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

ao3 vers

The lumberfolk told many stories. 

Ford did his best to record and research those that pertained to his work - the tales of mystery and magic, cryptids and creatures. Many of it was simply local legend, tall tales and the like - but just as often there was some piece of truth to be found within the campfire stories. It was the lumberfolk that told him of the hide-behind and the plaidypus, after all. If nothing else, stories made for a great lead.

One of those many stories was that of the Gravity Falls Coyote-Man. 

Legend told of a wildman, half-coyote and half-human, running on all fours and covered in hair, seen with the coyotes. Dark shapes darting between the trees, snapping up stray animals. It seemed somehow both too fantastical and also too banal for Gravity Falls - it was almost too simple a legend, not Weird enough. It was just... a man who was ambiguously connected to the local coyote population.

But there were a few lumberfolk who swore up and down to the beastman’s existence, claimed to have seen it themselves, even. And, well, Ford was having a slow week, research-wise. Why not set up a few human-sized coyote traps?

Well, he hadn’t actually really expected to catch it. 

The snare, a thin silver wire staked into the ground, was taut and strained, vice-like around a bruised neck. The creature growled, snapping its teeth at Ford, trying to swipe with long, claw-like nails at him. They cut through the air inches away from Ford’s trench coat, a narrow breaths away from connecting. 

“Fascinating,” Ford murmured, quickly scribbling away in his journal, trying to get a good sketch down of the beast. “I hadn’t actually thought you were real.”

A dirt-streaked, humanoid body, bones visible through skin, unkempt and overgrown brown hair. The hair was too matted and tangled to make out any texture, whether it was straight or curly. It was practically a forest itself, leaves and pine needles in its hair. The creature’s eyes were wide, almost eerily human, yet held the vacantness of an animal.

“Such an interesting specimen,” Ford hummed, walking a careful, examining circle around it. The beastman twisted in its trap, trying in vain to track Ford’s movement with its eyes. “To think I had almost written you off entirely. Part of me wants to take you back with me, to further study you.” 

The beastman snarled, barking at him. It struggled against its binds, trying to lunge at Ford. He sighed. 

“Of course I couldn’t,” Ford said, resigned and disappointed, “It would be wrong to keep a creature of the woods such as yourself trapped. For all I know, you’re some fae’s pet. I certainly don’t want to get caught up in that again.” 

The creature, not understanding the words being said, hunched against the ground warily. Protecting its soft spots, one would have to assume. It had evidently realized it would not be able to get Ford from where it was, instead hunkering down, growling low and warningly. A purely defensive position.

“I assure you I am not here to take advantage of your weakness,” Ford told it. He jotted down a few more quick notes. Humanoid. Not capable of speech or comprehending language - could it be taught? “I just want to study you. You’re awfully elusive, you know. Even the lumberjacks have only caught a few glimpses.”

The creature kept low to the ground, growling softly. It followed Ford with its eyes as he stopped in front of it. Ford dropped into a crouch. 

Lifting its head, the creature narrowed its eyes at him. Ford smiled wryly. “You look hungry.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small piece of beef jerky. The beastman’s eyes softened a bit, still suspicious, but intrigued also. It looked between Ford and the jerky, interest clearly piqued. “Here.”

Ford tossed the jerky lightly, throwing it softly in front of the beastman. The creature leaned down, sniffing cautiously, before, with one more glance at Ford, quickly snapping it up with its teeth and scarfing it down. 

Smiling a bit at the sight, Ford shook his head to himself, quickly scribbling down a few more notes. This would make a good entry, he thought to himself, pleased. 

The jerky went quickly. The creature blinked at Ford curiously, licking its lips as it finished the last bit of the food. It had stopped growling now, sitting back on its haunches and tilting its head at Ford, eyes alight and watchful with clear curiosity. 

“You certainly seem at least a bit intelligent,” Ford mused as the creature leaned forward, not far enough to strain the snare, but close enough to get a good view of Ford. It didn’t seem defensive now. Just intrigued. “Maybe if I had the time, I might be able to teach you a few words.”

He pulled another piece of jerky out of his pocket. He didn’t toss it this time, slowly reaching forward to put it in front of the creature. Something of a test.

It leaned back as he leaned forward, shuffling awkwardly away from him. It didn’t start growling again, nor did it bite him, but it squared its shoulders and watched him warily until he pulled back, returning to his spot just out of the creature’s reach. 

A bit more trusting now, the creature snapped up the piece of jerky again, using its mouth to grab it. 

“It’s odd,” Ford mused to himself, writing in his journal, “You have human hands that are, by the looks of them, perfectly fine and functional, yet you barely seem to use them. It’s as though you don’t realize they’re there.” 

The creature doesn’t respond, of course. It ate its jerky quickly, chewing openly like a dog. Its teeth were clearly human as well - really, the creature was hardly dog-like at all in physical form, only in behaviour and mannerisms. Though, it was quite hairy. 

A completely human body, two arms and two legs, seemingly bipedal but favoring to walk on all fours like a dog. Hairy, yes, but humanly so. Its ears weren’t even pointed, which would have pointed towards some mystical, perhaps fae, relation. If it were human, it would have to be just a year or two younger than Ford himself, if not the same age. Its ribs were showing, face gaunt. 

Yet beyond a few bruises and small scars, it didn’t seem horribly beat-up. It was ill-fed, not ill-protected. 

“You’re an odd one, that’s for sure,” Ford said. “You’re almost too mundane for a creature of Gravity Falls. Perhaps your strangeness is more subtle than most other anomalies.” He sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for the opportunity to study you more.” 

The creature looked up at him, tilting its head. Its eyes were wide and brown. Something about so oddly familiar that Ford had to look away, to save himself from the sudden sting in his heart. 

Those eyes seemed so distant, yet oddly aware. They were calm now, not clouded by pain or anger. Just calm.

He carefully reached his hand out, not holding any jerky this time. The creature held very still as Ford’s hand drew closer, until his fingers gently entwined in its hair, stroking his thumb across its forehead and idly fiddling with its hair in a tentative pet. The creature slumped slightly, leaning into the touch contentedly. 

“The lumberjacks mentioned they usually see you with the coyotes in the forest,” Ford said absentmindedly, distracted by how thickly knotted the creature’s hair was. It was stuck full of burrs, sticks and leaves and other things. “Do you ever get lonely out there, I wonder? You’re not exactly one of the coyotes - unless they’re a pack of creatures able to shapeshift between human and coyote forms, but I’ve not seen any evidence of such a thing. Just you, hm?”

Ford sighed, thumb running soothingly up and down at the smooth plane of forehead, rhythm irregular with his fingers fiddling with the creature’s hair. 

“I can understand that feeling,” he said quietly. 

The creature blinked at him, brown eyes warm. It watched Ford with an easy peace - it had firmly decided he wasn’t a threat, it seemed. 

They were of the same ilk, after all. Two pariahs, finding solace in the woods. 

Ford’s eyes drifted downwards, to where the snare was a thin, silver line standing out against skin mottled with bruises where the creature had struggled against its binds. There were small traces of blood, Ford could see now that he was close enough, where the metal had bit and dug into the creature’s skin as it strained. 

Ford bit the inside of his cheek. In retrospect, perhaps a cage trap would have been more humane. 

“Alright,” he sighed, already mentally preparing himself for the incoming ordeal, detangling his hand from the creature’s hair and reaching for the snare, “Let’s get this over with.”

A wild animal, or in this case, wild animal-like creature, couldn’t be expected to understand the nuanced difference between trying to help, and intentionally hurting. Ford knew this. A cat with its paw stuck in something would not understand that the person trying to free it did not mean to hurt it, or that the pain was unfortunate and unintentional. It only felt the hurt, and reacted. It was an animal, and that was the way animals thought and behaved.

For this reason, Ford knew that freeing the creature from the snare would likely break this odd truce-bond of theirs. It had to be done, Ford thought heavily. A cage trap would indeed have been wiser.

But as his fingers fit around the wire, fidgeting with the latch, the creature only tensed as the wire moved on its neck. It didn’t even growl, just making a quiet, unhappy sound, almost like a whine. It blinked at Ford, eyes pitiful and pained but somehow not defensive at all. Like it knew Ford wasn’t trying to hurt it.

Intelligence, or strong pack-bonding? Ford wondered. Or perhaps it simply doesn’t feel pain the same way…

Carefully, Ford slipped the snare back over the creature’s head, then rose, taking a few cautious steps back. The creature merely stared up at him, alert and calm. It slowly moved, testing its now free range. Its hand came up to its neck, pawing at the air cautiously.

It twisted its neck this way and that, as though to loosen stiff muscles. Its gaze flit down to the snare, now inactive and unsprung.

With a soft growl towards the trap, it prodded on all fours around the snare, coming to stop in front of Ford. It blinked up at him, like it was waiting for him to move first.

Ford gave a small smile. “I suppose you have a pack to get back to, hm? I won’t keep you.” He stepped back, slipping his journal into the inside pocket of his coat. “Farewell, fearsome Coyote-Man of Gravity Falls.”

Putting a few more steps of distance between them, Ford turned his back to the creature. He sighed, shook himself, and began to walk back to his lab.

But not a minute into the trek, there was a rustle behind him. Ford turned, and was surprised to meet the warm brown eyes of the creature, walking - crawling, really - behind him.

Experimentally, Ford briskly walked further. The creature followed.

Ford stopped in his tracks, and it stopped too, blinking up at him curiously, as though wondering what made him stop. 

Slowly, a genuine smile hesitantly spread across Ford’s face. “Are you following me?”

The creature of course gave no indication of understanding, but it did shift closer to him, leaning casually against Ford’s leg and looking around. Like a cautious dog.

Ford chuckled softly, reaching down to pet the creature’s hair fondly. “A wise choice. I have some salve for your neck, and some more food for you, if you’d like it.”

Ford didn’t often have guests over, but somehow, this didn’t feel so daunting. The creature chuffed softly at him, butting its head into Ford’s leg in a friendly manner.

“Who knows,” Ford said, running his fingers through the creature’s matted hair, “Maybe I’ll be able to learn more about you still, hm?”

The warm presence at Ford’s side already felt like it had been there the whole time. Like a missing piece slotting seamlessly back into the incomplete jigsaw of Ford’s heart.

Despite his better intelligence, he knew he was growing attached to this odd creature. It filled a cold, long-frozen part of him, called the phantom ache like that of a missing limb. He knew why.

Its eyes were just like his.

Bittersweet warmth filled him and he couldn’t help but murmur, just between the two of them, “Stanley would have loved you.”

[delilahsturniolo]

⟡ ݁₊ welcome to the end of the world! (please leave your sanity at the door.)

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 . . . four friends: nick, matt, chris, and you—find themselves stuck together at the end of the world, trying to survive a zombie apocalypse with nothing but their wits, a questionable supply of snacks, and zero emotional maturity. you’re just trying to stay alive without losing your mind—or falling for someone on the team.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . . . angst, romantic tension, mentions of weapons

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: FRIEND OR FOE?

read other parts here!

you run like the ground’s on fire.

the forest blurs. branches whip past your face.

the sound.

that sound.

a tidal wave of snarls and screeches and dragging limbs. zombies. too many. “how many are there?!” nick yells, panting, dodging trees. “is it a birthday party?! are they multiplying?!”

“not the time for jokes, nicolas!” chris shouts, somehow still clutching lieutenant whiskers like he’s a sacred relic. matt’s hand stays locked in yours as he pulls you through the brush, faster, harder, refusing to look back. “we’re not gonna make it like this,” he says, voice tight. “we need higher ground, something, anything.”

“what about that lookout tower we passed?” you gasp. “half a mile back! there was a trail sign!”

“you remember that from the map?” he asks, breathless. you shoot him a look. “i have a great memory under life-threatening pressure, apparently.” he actually huffs a laugh, and it’s stupid, but it makes your heart flutter. even now. even here. “alright,” he says, tightening his grip on your hand. “lead the way.”

the tower’s old. splintered. half-eaten by moss and time, but it’s standing. barely. and it’s the only chance you’ve got. you all clamber up the creaking ladder, one by one. matt sends you first. won’t even argue about it. you hate how fast you’ve gotten used to him doing that. always putting himself between you and danger. you make it to the top and immediately spin around to help the others. nick follows, then chris, hauling lana and lieutenant whiskers. matt’s last.

but just as he reaches the platform..

a hand grabs his ankle.

“matt!” you scream.

he kicks hard, almost slips. the ladder shudders dangerously under him. a zombie’s halfway up now, snarling, jaw unhinged like it’s already tasting blood. he pulls himself up with a grunt and you grab his arm, yanking him the last few inches onto the platform. the second he’s safe, chris kicks the ladder hard and it snaps sideways, collapsing in a tangle of rot and wood. you all collapse against the railing, gasping.

below you,

dozens of them.

they swarm the base of the tower, clawing, moaning, reaching. eyes glassy and wrong. a sea of death. and you’re stranded above it. “well,” nick wheezes, “this feels like a bad time to mention i’m scared of heights.” lana hasn’t said a word since you got here. just watches the swarm like she’s already seen the worst the world has to offer.

you sit beside matt, legs shaking, adrenaline wearing off like a bad drug. he doesn’t speak. just stares down at the crowd of the dead below you. you hate the way his shoulders look right now, tense. tight. like they’re carrying too much. so you break the silence.

“you okay?”

he doesn’t answer for a moment. then..

“i thought i was gonna lose you.”

you turn toward him. “but you didn’t.”

“not this time,” he says, voice quiet.

you reach for his hand again. this time, he doesn’t just hold it. he brings it to his lips. kisses your knuckles. then rests his forehead against yours.“you scare the hell out of me,” he whispers. “good,” you whisper back. “we’re even.” he laughs, just once. but it sounds real. then it fades. and what’s left in its place is everything. everything you haven’t said. everything he’s too scared to admit. “what if this is it?” he says, eyes still closed. “what if there’s no safe zone? no future?” you don’t answer for a second. because you’ve been thinking the same thing.

but then you pull back and look him in the eye. “then we make one,” you say. “wherever we end up. just… us. the people we’ve got. the things we’ve survived. we build something. even if it’s small. even if it’s stupid. we build.”

his jaw tightens like he’s fighting off emotion. you see the flicker of it there, in his eyes.

love. hope. fear.

he kisses you again. softer this time. slower. like it’s a promise, not a question. and just as your lips part..

bang.

a single gunshot cracks through the trees.

everyone freezes. nick grabs his weapon. chris shields lana, holding his cat. “what the hell was that?” you crawl to the edge, scan the woods. your breath catches. figures. not zombies. people. armed.

matt’s next to you instantly. “soldiers?”

“they don’t look military,” nick says, aiming his rifle carefully. “they’re headed this way,” chris adds. “fast.” matt’s voice lowers, serious and cold. “they’re either here to help… or finish what the last ones started.” you grip your weapon, heart hammering, the sun’s beginning to set, the dead are still below, and now the living are coming too.

no way off. no way out. not yet. and you realize…

this is it. you’ve survived the monsters. now comes the worst part.

surviving each other.

© delilahsturniolo

[clownthemedlizardlambs]

heyyy! would you do a travis bot? honestly I don't know what type of scenario it could be, but anything kind that isn't angst would be fine lol. I don't know if I would have to specify if you could do it gender neutral for the user it would be great. good luck watching the new episodes! 😭

Travis Martinez Bot (Link at bottom)

AN: I actually loved writing this one, got to sprinkle in the kinda person I though Travis was before the crash

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the canopy, dappling the forest floor in shifting patches of gold and shadow. The lake stretched out before them, the surface rippling as a light breeze skimmed across it. The air was crisp but not cold, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out, its song lonely but peaceful. It was one of the few times lately that the woods felt quiet—no bickering, no whispered worries about food, no weight pressing down on his chest. Just stillness.

Travis sat with his back against the rough bark of a tree, his shoulders slumped in a way that only happened when he let himself relax. His boots were caked in dried mud, his shorts torn at the hem from weeks of wear, and as he spoke, he absently picked at a loose thread between his fingers. It was a nervous habit, one he barely noticed.

"I used to be such a dork before all this," he said, his voice low, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it aloud. He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers dragging through the mess of his unwashed hair.

He glanced over, expecting you to laugh, maybe make a joke, but instead, you just gave him a teasing grin, the kind that made his stomach do something weird. "A dork? You?" There was no malice in it, no judgment—just curiosity.

Travis scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I know. Hard to imagine, right?" He let out a breath, his hand falling back into his lap. "I wasn’t, like, a total loser or anything. But… I spent a lot of time on stuff that most people probably thought was stupid."

You tilted your head, watching him closely. "Like what?"

He hesitated, his fingers still tugging at the loose thread on his shorts. He could just brush it off. Change the subject. But the air between you both felt different today—calmer, softer.

"I wanted to be a carpenter," he admitted finally, a self-conscious grin flickering across his face. He kept his eyes on the lake as he spoke, like looking at you might make it harder. "I thought I’d make things with my hands—build stuff. Furniture, little wooden animals… that kind of thing."

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. He braced himself for teasing, maybe a snide comment about how different that was from the guy he was now. But when he finally glanced your way, you were just looking at him, expression thoughtful.

"You made wooden animals?" you asked, and he could hear the amusement in your voice.

Travis exhaled through his nose, shaking his head at himself. His face felt a little hot, which was ridiculous. "Yeah. Well, I didn’t have much of a choice when Javi kept bugging me every time I picked up my tools. He thought it was the coolest thing ever, so I’d end up making him these little stupid things—bears, rabbits, whatever he wanted."

You smiled, and something about it made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t used to. "That’s actually kind of sweet," you murmured. "I bet he loved them."

Travis swallowed, his fingers stilling against the hem of his shorts. "He did. I think." His voice was quieter now, more careful. His mouth twitched, something close to a smile forming before it faltered. "Even after everything, I bet he’d find a way to keep them in his pocket or something."

He looked down, tracing a line in the dirt with the toe of his boot. It was stupid, but for a second, he could almost picture Javi—his wide-eyed excitement, the way he used to watch Travis carve like it was magic. He wondered if Javi still had any of them. If they had survived out here with him.

The silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind that didn’t need filling, the kind that let you just exist together for a little while. The lake shimmered in the sunlight, the wind shifting through the leaves, and for a moment, it almost felt like the world hadn’t fallen apart.

After a while, Travis let out a breath, barely more than a whisper. "Wish things were different, you know?" He didn’t look at you this time. "Wish we were back there, doing... normal stuff. Building crap with my hands and annoying the hell out of Javi."

There was nothing dramatic about the way he said it—no crack in his voice, no big confession. Just a quiet, simple truth.

And somehow, that made it hit even harder.

Link ->🦎

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Make It Back

A/N: A right of passage- sticking the reader character into the 'Andrea shot Daryl' scene :) Reader goes OFF on her, so be prepared lol. Sorry if you love Andrea

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader

WC: ~4k

Warnings: talk of Daryl's injuries, falling down the cliff, Walker attack- nothing too graphic; Andrea shooting Daryl but just grazing him; mentions of gore/blood- nothing too graphic; angst, comfort, fluff, cuddling; Daryl being sassy; reader character fighting with Andrea (yelling match)

Summary: You confront Andrea after she shoots Daryl, thinking he's a walker. With your anger taken out on her, you then comfort Daryl as he spends the night in the Greene farmhouse.

You heard the gunshot. Everyone on the farm did. You just didn’t know exactly what had happened.

Following Lori’s lead, you jogged around the house, hoping it wasn’t another accident like the one that almost killed Carl. It was a single shot. Why would anyone risk a lone round out in the open like this? On this beautiful farm.

Once you circled the house, landing in a clump of Herschel’s family and a few others from your group, all you saw was sun. Its rays were blinding yellow as they cut over the tall, deep treeline on the edge of the meadow. It was the middle of a gorgeous day.

You heard Rick scream. It was a booming, worried thing. Then he screamed again.

“What the hell is going on here?” Herschel bellowed. 

You moved closer to the field, the gravel of the driveway turning to grass under your feet as you neared the van. Dale was standing beside it with his hands on his head, panic clear in his figure as he looked out to the scene in the pasture. 

“Shit,” Andrea said as she hastily climbed down the ladder from the top of the van. She started whining, more to herself than anyone else. “No, no, no, Daryl.”

“What?” you asked, a cold shock running down your spine from the back of your neck to your heels in the dirt. “What? What about Daryl?”

“I-I thought he was a walker,” she said.

Your head whirled to the cluster of men at the treeline. You tripped, your feet rooted to the ground in horror and misunderstanding. Was Andrea actually saying-

“I shot him.”

You bolted at her confession. These days, you were used to running, having done plenty of it through the woods to escape walkers. Then, you had to be careful of roots and puddles and dead bodies and the trees slowed you down, making sprinting difficult. Now, as you watched Rick fall to his knees in the distance, reaching for Daryl’s head after it hit the ground, speed came easily to you. The open meadow of freely growing grass under the clear blue sky was practically a racetrack.

Andrea panted behind you and the useless coins in Dale’s jeans clinked together, but you were faster, your feet agile in their swiftness. Your boots didn’t pound into the dirt like theirs. You sped to Daryl, only slowing when Rick threw one of Daryl’s arms over Shane’s shoulder and took the other one over his own. Daryl’s body fell limp against them, his feet dragging.

As the men caught their balance, you took Daryl’s face in your hands, seeing it drenched in blood.

“He’s unconscious,” Rick said to you. “We’ll get him back to the house.”

You nodded, otherwise silent. 

Andrea, however, let loose her apologies and worries in a shrill voice that made everyone around tense up like their limbs were attached to drawstrings. 

You didn’t listen to her words. Or T-Dog’s or Glenn’s and you didn’t notice Rick pull something from Daryl’s neck. Only the grass had your attention as your mind ceaselessly spun. Your boots pushed the tall blades around, making them sway with your every step. The shades of green were glowing in the slowly setting sun until they were marred- darkened by the looming three-headed shadow making its way across the field. Daryl’s blood dripped with every step, leaving red droplets behind with the last of the dew.

“I’m sorry,” Andrea said. When she touched your arm, you jumped, jarred back from the peace of the meadow and into the grisly present.

You didn’t answer her.

Daryl was still unconscious by the time Rick and Shane laid him down in the bedroom. While they’d carried him into the house, you beelined straight to Maggie, asking for a rag and some warm water. You ducked into the bedroom and dodged the panicking men so you could sit on the bed and wipe as much grime from Daryl’s face and hands as you could manage before leaving Herschel in peace to bandage his wounds.

When the door to the bedroom closed you out, you sat on the floor in the hall. Earlier, you had wondered if what Rick told you was true, if Daryl was only unconscious. If the bullet had truly only grazed him. You only fully believed Daryl was alive when you washed his face clean. His brow even crinkled when the wet cloth touched it. He was in there still. 

Lori sat down quietly next to you in the hallway. She patted your knee. She didn’t have to say anything. You knew her well enough by now to know what she thought. You’re a good friend to him, she’d say. And he doesn’t have many.

You leaned your head back against the wall with a soft thunk and closed your eyes. It was tranquil there for a moment before a familiar, unwanted voice interrupted. 

“Can I talk to you?”

You opened your eyes to see Andrea standing above you and Lori.

“Now’s not a good time,” you said. It was awkward and uncomfortable. “I’m waiting for- for some word.”

“I’ll be quick,” she asked, sliding down the wall and sitting beside you.

Andrea had a knack for rubbing you the wrong way at the worst times. You wouldn’t call yourself a ‘strong personality,’ but she certainly was. Whatever it was deep down in you was constantly butting heads with whatever lived in her core. You disagreed with her most of the time, but tried your best to be patient and gracious given the losses she’d suffered and the emotions clearly wracking her. Still, you couldn’t help but feel she went about most things all wrong.

Like insisting she speak to you now.

So you stood up. You asked Lori to come find you when Daryl woke or when you could go visit him- whatever came first- and you left the house. The turmoil in your chest almost made you scream. But instead of letting it rip through you, you sucked in a deep breath and walked down the front steps. To be alone.

“(Y/N), wait.”

You could tell it was her by the sound of her voice. 

“Andrea,” you warned, “I’m not in a place to talk right now.”

“To anyone? Or just to me?”

“Does it matter?” you asked, spinning around in the gravel to face her. “Can’t you just respect that I’m- I’m trying to-”

“What?” she shouted, hands in the air. “Trying not to yell at me? What if I want you to? What if I want you to scream at me? Tell me I’m reckless! Tell me-”

“Tell you what you need to hear? That’s not my job.” You were calm, considering the outburst in front of you. “Just leave me be.”

“No.” She ran in front of you, standing with her feet spread wide, blocking your path from the farm house. Like a child. “I need to… I need to apologize. To you. For what I did to Daryl.”

A laugh escaped you. “Apologize to me?”

“Yes. And-”

“You know who you need to apologize to, Andrea?”

“Daryl, I know, but-”

“And Herschel and Rick and Glenn and T-Dog, and everyone else you put in danger when you decided to not do what you were told.”

You watched her jaw clench and set in place. Lowly, she said, “I don’t need to be told what to do.”

“Apparently you do. Apparently you don’t have your head screwed on straight!” you said.

“What’s that supposed to mean-”

“No, Andrea!” you cut her off with a stabbing shout. “You’re gonna follow me around like this and beg for a piece of my mind? Let me give it to you! Lord knows no one else here will.” You took her arm, leading her away from the front of the house where your temper- or loss of it- wouldn’t disturb Herschel’s family. When she tried to talk over you, tell you she knew what she was doing with that gun in her hands, you snarled at her. “Shut up! I’m speaking now.”

***

You didn’t realize that the hidden spot you led her to happened to be just below the bedroom Daryl and the other men were in. You had no clue that your every word rode the breeze up and through the window above where Rick, Shane, and Daryl could hear you as clearly as if you stood right before them.

And you didn’t know Daryl was already awake.

Shane, arms crossed over his chest, peeked out the window at the sound of Andrea’s voice. He whistled to Rick. “Catfight.” 

“What?” Rick asked. He followed Shane’s gaze and shook his head when he saw you. “Nah, (Y/N)’s good. She’ll keep her head.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure,” Daryl grumbled. “Girl’s got a temper.”

“Never heard anything out of her,” Shane said.

“Thas ‘cause you ain’t never heard her complain ‘bout you.”

“Man, shut up,” Shane growled over Rick’s chuckles. “If (Y/N) gives Andrea a talkin’ to, that’s one less thing on my list.”

Daryl violently shifted the pillow under his head. “Dun even wanna know what’s on yer list.”

Shane shushed him, spitting on the window screen, and nudged Rick. “Wanna listen to her.”

***

You stuck an accusing finger at Andrea, keeping her staring at you and squinting into the low sun. “You need to understand, there’s no ‘girl jobs and boy jobs’ here. It’s not that simple. Just because you don’t like doing laundry and washing dishes doesn’t mean you get a gun to flaunt around by default.”

“They’re wasting my skills!” she hissed.

“Those guys,” you pointed out to the pasture, where Daryl went down, “Rick, Shane, Daryl- those guys are trained with those weapons. They were fucking cops and hunters, Andrea! That’s why they get the guns right now, not because they’re better than us, or whatever the hell story you’ve told yourself.”

“Then I should be trained the way they were,” she said. “Before they took it from me, I had my own gun for years-”

“After what you did today, I hope you never get your hands on another gun! You put every one of those guys in danger today. What if your aim was further off, huh? What if you shot Glenn? Or Rick? You could have killed him right in front of his boy! Right after Carl got back on his feet, doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Of course it does!” 

“Are you sure?” The sun was beating down on your back. The heat of its rays added to the roiling in your gut, making sweat drip down the side of your face and pool on your lower back. Its slick had your t-shirt clinging to you. “Are you really sure? ‘Cause if your shit aim was a half an inch better, you would have killed him today! One of our own. And you’re acting like you barely care- you’re here apologizing to me?”

“You’re closest to him,” she grumbled. “I was trying to be-”

You spoke over her meaningless words. “Daryl is an asset to this group. He keeps us safe, feeds us- he was coming back from looking for Sophia and what thanks does he get? A fucking bullet to the head. You took down a good man today-”

“I thought he was a walker!” Andrea screamed in defense.

“So what?” Your throat ached from its work and Andrea flinched. You forced a calming breath before you continued slowly and deliberately, hoping some of your words would actually stick in her head. “We are so lucky we’re allowed on this property. That we found this doctor.”

“I know.”

“And he asked one thing in return. No guns. You were told by Rick, by Shane- no guns. You saw- you thought you saw one walker and you waste a bullet on it? That one gunshot could have led a whole herd to this house, Andrea. What would have happened then?”

“I get it, okay?”

“I don’t think you do. Four men went out there to take down that walker. They explicitly told you not to shoot that gun. And you did it anyway. And for what? Pride?”

She stared at you. Then she shrugged flippantly. “I wanted to do it. I knew I could do it.”

“Well, I hope it was worth it to you.”

***

Shane whistled again from his spot in the window. “If we ever need a lawyer, she’s the one.”

Daryl laid his head back on the pillow after holding it in the air to listen carefully to your argument. His cheeks, ears, neck and chest were hot and flushed from your words about him. 

“She still down there?” he asked. 

“No,” Rick said. He rounded the foot of the bed and walked towards the door of the bedroom. “I’ll go check on her. She’ll wanna know you’re alright.”

“He’s red as a tomato,” Shane said, slapping Daryl’s foot, “but alive, right Daryl?”

“Barely,” he grumbled. 

***

It was Lori who found you first. She grabbed your wrist and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Daryl’s okay,” she said. “You can go up and see him now.”

You ran your palms up over your cheeks and into your hair, feeling the sweat that had gathered. You sighed. “Maybe later. He should probably rest.”

“He was askin’ for you,” Rick said, appearing behind Lori with a hand on the small of her back. “Go on up.”

At that, you nodded and headed for the bedroom.

Miraculously, you didn’t run into anyone else as you made your way through the house. You would have been embarrassed to see one of the Greenes after what had gone down today in the pasture or even after scolding Andrea, whether anyone had heard you or not.

You couldn’t quite get yourself to open the bedroom door, even as you stood before it, hand on the knob. There was no talking or snoring or shifting of sheets from the inside and you debated if you would be a disturbance or a comfort to whatever mood you’d meet inside.

Finally, at length, you pushed it open.

Daryl was shirtless, legs tangled in the thin sheets on the large bed. He only took up a small portion of it, though he was laying almost diagonally across it so he could watch the door. Of course he and his tracker’s ears had heard you open it. He looked at you with narrowed eyes. 

“Hey killer,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t even.”

You stood in the doorway, watching him. His arm was tucked tight under his head as he looked away from you and down into the sheets. He tucked them up all around him, blocking his injury and most of his skin from view. You knew why, but ignored it. You instead stared at the bandage tied around his head. It made his short hair stick up wildly, like a bloody coyote in the woods. 

“You wanna be alone, or you want me to stay?” you asked, hanging onto the doorknob. 

He shrugged. “Dun matter ta me.”

That was the closest to a yes you were ever going to get. You closed the door behind you with a soft click and walked to the emptier side of the bed to sit on its edge. “You need anything? Water, or-”

“Got it,” he said, blindly pointing to the nightstand beside the bed.

“Kay.” The air in the room was hot, but since the sun was setting lower and lower each minute, you knew there’d be a breeze blowing through the lacy curtains soon enough. You wiped your brow again. “How are you feeling?”

“‘Bout as bad as I look.”

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

You breathed out a laugh. “You looked like death itself before, though, so this is an upgrade.”

He glared at you, but it was playful. For him, you knew it was. “Well, I was shot.”

“Yeah.” 

You swallowed hard at the reminder. Next to his glass of water was the bowl and cloth you’d brought to him earlier. You reached for it now, wringing it out some before bringing it to his forehead which was as damp with sweat as yours was. 

“What else happened out there?”

“Nuthin’,” he said, shrugging off the cloth. 

You didn’t budge and asked again. “You look rough, Dare. Herschel said there was something with your side too? I saw all the blood.”

He was quiet, attention again on the sheets as you dabbed at his forehead and cheeks. There was still blood on his chin and grime on his neck- mud and something else you didn’t care to guess at. You stopped at his shoulders. It was clear he didn’t want you looking anywhere near his chest or back, buried in the sheets. 

Then you noticed him watching you.

“You…”

“Hm?” you pushed.

“You were worried? ‘Bout… ‘bout me.”

“Of course I was. Still am. You’re one of us, we’re all worried-”

“I fell. And a couple’a walkers found me.”

Panic shot through you like lightning, branching through your veins and up your limbs. “Walkers?” No one told you. No one said anything about a bite or scratch or anything- “Is that, the injury on your side, it’s from a walker?”

“No,” he was quick to correct. “Nah, I fought ‘em off. Didn’t get me.” “Christ,” you whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to keep the unshed tears stuck in your eyes.

“When I fell down the cliff, I took an arrow through my back.”

It didn’t-couldn’t-register. “You fell down a cliffside?”

“Twice.”

That was all you could take. The emotion, the stress and panic of the day, of the weeks past, caught up to you in one drowning swell. You felt your lips tremble and tried to keep them shut up tight, tried to count the bumps in the washcloth still in your hands, dripping on the knee of your jeans.

“Ay,” Daryl said, gruffly. He took the washcloth from you and smacked your arm with it before tossing it near its bowl. “Dun do that. Dun- dun cry fer me-”

“Argentina?”

“Wha?”

It made you laugh. It was a wet, snotty laugh and the curve of your cheek pushed out a fat tear that carved its way down your face. “It’s a song,” you said.

“Don’t start singin’ neither.”

You chuckled again, losing more tears and the fight to not cry in front of Daryl. 

With a painful grunt, he moved himself on the bed, opening a spot for you. He patted the empty space, mumbling. “Come on.”

You kicked off your boots and laid down on the bed, mirroring him. One arm supported your head, while the other tucked tight against you, keeping to your own space as you looked at him. His teeth dug into his lip over and over as he studied the hair and freckles on his arm as if he’d never seen it before. 

“Were you scared?” you whispered.

After a long while, narrowed blue eyes met yours and he nodded.

“Out there alone.” Your voice broke, shaking with the tight breath in your chest. 

“S’alright. M’back now.”

You flopped on your back, away from him for a chance to breathe. You were losing your grip and you didn’t want to break in front of him. You were there to support him, not force him into comforting you. But the thought of him in fear and suffering alone was stubbornly lodged in your throat. 

“When I was out there climbin,’ that’s what I was thinkin’ ‘bout,” Daryl said. “Thought ‘bout comin’ back. Seein’ ya. Knew I had ta get back.”

His words hung in the air. They were soft and open, his voice less harsh than usual. 

“That’s right,” you said. Using the collar of your t-shirt, as sweaty and dirty as it was, you wiped the tear tracks from your face and cleared your eyes.

“Now we both look bad as I feel,” Daryl said.

“Shut up,” you said. But you laughed.

The air felt clearer now. It wasn’t so stifling hot and you watched the transparent curtains dance in the breeze coming in through the window. Again, you turned to him, laying on your side, able to study him more. Daryl, however, seemed like he couldn’t bear the attention. His flitting gaze fell on just about everything in the room except you until he seemed to settle upon the safety of the bare ceiling above, studying it as if it were a map to a hidden treasure. Like a cure to the world’s mess.

“You okay?” you finally asked.

“Did you mean it? What ya said?”

“When?”

One of his hands flew up, gesturing toward the window. “Earlier. To Andrea.”

You hummed, lips glued together for a moment. “You heard all that?”

He chuckled. “Loud and clear. She deserved it.”

“Mm. Just lost my temper.”

He grunted, agreeing. “But’cha- what ya said ‘bout me.” He struggled for the words, throat and mouth working for the right thing to ask. “Said I was a good man, ya mean that?”

“Of course.” You sat up, moving your face into his line of vision. You made him look at you. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. And I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I didn’t think it.” Your fingertips grazed his skin, tickling down his cheek until they turned the other way, your knuckles running the same path for good measure. “You are a good man. I see you. I see the things you do and no matter how much you like to hide it, I know you have a big heart. I’ve seen it.” You gave him a soft shove on the shoulder, teasing. While you were there, close to him, you brushed the hair off his forehead before returning your hands to yourself and laying back flat on the bed.

He grunted and pressed his lips together, staring at where your face had been, the spot that was just the bare ceiling now. Then he shrugged away from you and turned to the opposite wall and grumbled, “S’not what I asked, girl.”

“Gave ya some extra bang for your buck, that’s all,” you said. When he didn’t turn or even chuckle, you bent towards the floor for your boots. “Want me to go? So you can get some rest?”

He gave you nothing in answer. You at least hoped he heard what you said, took it to heart. But, you thought, that’s what you get for blubbering all over his bed. Only slightly bothered, you leaned towards the nightstand to see if he had enough water for the evening. Then, you’d leave-

“Dun haf’ta go,” he mumbled. 

“Oh.”

“So long as ya don’t go all girly ga-ga on me again.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he peeked at you over his shoulder. “You mean telling you that I actually care about you? Then don’t go tryin’ to die on me again.”

He flopped over. “Ya think I wanted to fall off the damn cliff? Fuckin’ horse threw me off.”

Setting your boots back down, you settled into the bed next to him. “Horse shoot you with your own crossbow too?”

“You shut your mouth, girl.”

“Mhmm.” you hummed, grinning.

Like two parallel beings, you laid opposite each other, close, but not touching. You used your own arm for a pillow and tucked yourself under the sheet of the bed. Daryl looked past you, as if watching the door as another breeze blew through the room.

“Here,” he said, shimmying up towards the head of the bed and sliding the arm of his uninjured side under your head. You laid close, tucking your arms into your chest so only your elbows and your knees crossed over into Daryl’s space.

At least, it was that way until he leaned down into you, resting his chin on your forehead and letting his other arm drop over your side. You let loose a sigh at the touch- he’d made it back.

[heron-knight]

The Wolf at the Door

finally, the moment I assume you've all been waiting for because I know my audience.

Really, that night was supposed to be perfect. All the paperwork sorted, nothing else needing to be done-- you’d been planning it for a few days. Put it off until the moon was full because you’d had work to do every evening before. A lot, actually, now that you think about it.

Over the last few months, there had been quite a noticeable increase in the number of people in town with badly injured pets. Never that bad, but enough to make you wonder if nearly half the dogs in a ten-mile radius had been getting into fights suddenly. You’d been suspecting that some animal had probably shown up in the forest. Something big, by the look of the injuries, but probably an obligate carnivore that wouldn’t waste any more energy than necessary fighting a dog. You may still have just been working as a veterinarian in a small town, but that ecology degree sure wasn’t going to waste. It didn’t really matter now, though, you could leave your work out of this. This was your night. Work finished, medications taken, and with no work tomorrow, it was time for a long evening in the woods. Just you, the forest, and the crisp, chill air of a clear night in late fall. Going over your inventory, it seemed like you were fully prepared-- enough layers to keep you warm until you really got moving, a light with plenty of battery that you planned to use as little as physically possible-- and with some deliberation, a small can of bear spray in case your theory of “obligate carnivore that wouldn’t waste energy on fighting a dog and by extension probably wouldn’t attack a human” wasn’t entirely correct. 

Stepping out onto the porch, one breath of the night air was enough to remind you of why you’d gotten interested in your field in the first place. That intoxicating mystery of the dark. What was in it? What was the source of the sound of crunching leaves behind you as you stroll through the moonlit forest? A feeling like another you’d had before, but a bit less personal. Why’d you have to be born a creature that can’t see it? Human night vision is vastly limited even with time to adjust.  You’d always taken every chance to stay out late, to spend long nights standing in a meadow clipping bands onto owls just to know the species composition of the symphony of nocturnal hunters that you’d spent evenings listening to ever since you had been old enough to stay awake that long. Those little discoveries, those moments in class and in your independent studies when you’d see all those points of data and it was almost like what you needed, almost like being able to raise an ear to the woods and have it speak to you in its language of adaptation and trophic webs-- those were almost as wonderful as your evening strolls, lungs filled with moonlight and heart pounding from sheer wonder as your pace quickened almost subconsciously into nearly a sprint, ignoring the trails and leaping over fallen trees, feeling like a part of this trophic pyramid, this hunt, even tinged with frustration at eyes that couldn’t see well enough to find prey in the dark and legs that wouldn’t be able to keep up with it anyway. When the sounds of the night fill your ears and adrenaline surges through your brain, there’s no more worrying. No more thinking about loans or applications or appointment scheduling or how much time they said visible results would take to show up. No more thinking about how best to bring up the subject of the name you had seen your contact saved under on your mother’s phone even though it hadn’t been yours for nearly four years now. A quick run through the night would always tear all your worries from your mind like teeth tearing into a fresh carcass. Besides, that night there had barely been anything to worry about. The weather was perfect, you knew on some level that she’d change it immediately if you asked, and the slight ache in your chest invited the sneaking suspicion that for once, the overall experience varying from person to person might work in your favor, and things might have been moving ahead of the projected schedule. This was going to be a good night. That is, until the next step sent you falling face-first onto the porch as your foot struck something soft but solid that seemed to-- recoil slightly as you tripped over it. 

In the dim light of the porch, you could just barely see the dark shape that had interrupted your planned excursion. Curled in front of your door, breathing heavily through sharp teeth as the small but certainly alarming pool of blood in which it sat slowly increased in size. Your mind raced through all your experience and training as you stood, limped over to where the… creature… lay, and assessed the situation. Okay, we’ve got a… wolf, I think. There are no wolves in this area, haven’t been for centuries. No, I can worry about that later. It’s… hurt. Definitely. Looks like a big laceration along its side, multiple? From antlers, maybe? Okay, don’t panic… you’re trained for this. Okay… you went through your checklist. Okay, veterinary OR… don’t have one in my house. Patient sedated… no, but it probably can’t move anyway. I’d better stay away from those teeth, though. “Screw it!” you said out loud, reaching down and, with not insignificant difficulty, lifting the animal and carrying it into your house. Damn, this thing is huge. Countless papers and dishes hit the floor as you swept everything off the kitchen counter, ignoring the fact that you had definitely heard something shatter as you placed it carefully on top, then rushed into the bathroom and returned with as many towels as you could carry. The next few minutes were frantic-- rushing around the house, turning on as many lights as possible as you grabbed your personal medkit, as well as a few other things. This was far from an ideal setup, but your confidence was undeniable. Veterinary medicine was how you paid the bills. Wildlife rehabilitation was your passion. Besides, the first wolf in the state in around 200 years would be way too interesting to let die. Once everything was assembled, the kitchen was lit, and you’d taken a second to center yourself, you wasted no time in getting to work. Shave the area around the injury, clean the wound, stitch, disinfect, bandage-- all that was practically instinctual. No time to stop and wonder why the wolf was here of all places. It took a while, a not-insignificant number of stitches, and nearly all the bandages you’d had, but after some time your visitor was patched up, moved to the largest dog crate you could find, (though it still barely fit,) and seemed to be asleep but more or less alive. The satisfaction of a job well done, however, quickly faded as a glance around the room revealed the whole first floor of the house to be a mess of bloodsoaked towels, medical supplies, and all the things you’d thrown aside while tearing the place apart looking for said supplies, not to mention the bloodstains all over the carpet, most prominent from the door to the counter but by no means limited to there. Oh, and then there was the hair. As it turned out, when you shave off a large amount of an animal’s hair to have better access to the wounds and prevent infection, that hair has to go somewhere-- which, in this case, was everywhere, including and especially your favorite coat, which you had forgotten to remove once your plans for a moonlit stroll were interrupted, and was now soaked almost entirely through with blood and seemed to be the source of the stains on the carpet from the kitchen to the bathroom and other parts of the house. Exhausted, irritated, and with the adrenaline having mostly worn off, all you could really manage in response to that whole situation was a long sigh. Cleaning up the house could wait. Who cared if the blood started soaking into the carpet? Besides, you really needed a shower then. 

It hadn’t really gotten into your hair at all, so washing off the blood didn’t take much of your attention. The main reason was that a bit of warm water was perfect for calming down and getting a bit more centered. As good a place as any to go over the facts.

There is a very large wolf in my house. I brought it into my house because… scientific interest. Okay, fine. I like wolves and wanted to help it. Sue me. It is in a crate that I really hope it is too tired to try and escape from, because there is no way it would hold.

There is a very large wolf in this state despite them being extinct in this part of the country for quite some time now, and I think if someone had managed to get them reintroduced to this area, I would have heard about it. Besides, that still wouldn’t explain why it’s so huge.

This very large wolf was injured, probably by a deer, and decided to, out of all the places it could have gone, lie down directly in front of my door. If this area actually did have a wolf population that survived the historical extermination attempts, then they would have to be very good at hiding from humans. This one seems to have actively sought human assistance. 

After thinking for a moment, another realization hit. The wolf has seemed… off, somehow. You’re pretty sure it had extra toes, but you’d have to check to make sure. What exactly was up with this thing? This huge, wounded animal that had shown up, completely alone, in front of your door and despite not having lost a ton of blood, had really been a surprisingly cooperative patient. Something was definitely strange, but you did not have the energy to deal with it then, a glance at your phone as you were drying off with one of the last clean towels in the house revealing it to be 12:27. Maybe you had spent just a bit longer than you had realized staring at it as it lay in the crate. The decision to handle that whole situation in the morning was made nearly instantly, congratulating yourself on your decision to handle everything that needed to be done that night before the walk as you pulled on a robe and staggered into your room, collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep much quicker than the average person with a wolf in their house would have. 

Waking up that morning was a slow process as usual, sped up only slightly by the need to go check on the wolf downstairs. Luckily, you still had some spare dog food left over from when you had taken care of the neighbors' dog a few months back, and besides, it probably wouldn’t be particularly feeling like eating in its current state. That gave you a few handy excuses to stay in bed just a bit longer-- that is, until only a few minutes after you went back to sleep, you were woken up by the sound of the coffee maker downstairs. Several possibilities ran through your head, none of them entirely plausible, but when you hear someone or something using one of your kitchen appliances while being the only thing in the house besides a large wounded animal, plausibility tends to be the last thing on your mind. Okay, possibility one: there is someone in my house. I think I would have remembered if somebody had been over while… all that was happening last night, so someone must have broken into my house in the middle of the night, stayed until the sun came up, and… started making coffee. That theory was quickly discarded, as it made even less sense somehow than theory #2. Possibility two: somehow, despite numerous injuries, the wolf that was last night unable to even react when I was putting enough stitches in it to make a scarf has somehow broken out of the crate (without waking me up), and is now wandering around my house and must have bumped into the coffee maker and turned it on by accident. How exactly a wolf, even one nearly four feet tall at the shoulder, could turn on an appliance on the kitchen counter by accident, was not exactly taken into consideration. Even if it had somehow gotten up onto the counter, it required quite a bit of force to press the buttons. Both theories, though unlikely, were better than no theory at all, so both were kept in mind as you rummaged around in the pile of yesterday’s clothes for that can of bear spray you’d been planning to take on the walk. Whether it was the wolf or an intruder, going downstairs unarmed didn’t seem like the best idea. 

The first thing you noticed upon glancing down the stairs was the hair. Yes, there had been quite a lot when you had gone to bed the previous night, but not this much. The kitchen wasn’t visible from the top of the stairs, but the coffee maker was still on. Where did all this hair come from? It practically coated the floor. At this point, you just had to see what was going on, descending the stairs as quietly as possible and pointing the bear spray in the direction of the noise, not sure what to expect… but whatever you might have been expecting, this wasn’t it. The can fell from your hand, landing with a thud on the carpet as she turned to face you. “Oh, hey… thanks.” she said as you stared, her voice sounding tired and weak. The person that stood in your kitchen, wrapped in one of your blankets and, judging from the lack of any footwear, probably nothing underneath it, reached a shaking hand out from under the blanket and picked up a mug of what… wasn’t exactly coffee, but was more just her attempt at it. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of the bandages wrapped around her midsection, seemingly applied quite expertly but tied at one end as if she’d… shrunk after they were applied, leaving them loose-fitting. The crate that you’d put the wolf into was unlatched, the door left open, and every inch of the cushions inside covered with a thick layer of shed fur. “Got any clothes?” your brain had simply ceased to function, all your concepts of causality and rational thought shattered due to the sheer lack of any possible explanation of how she’d ended up in your house… or where the wolf had gone. 

“Who… I mean… why-- how are you here?” was all you could manage as your mind began to short-circuit for a number of reasons.

“You brought me here.” she said, taking a sip of her not-exactly-coffee and immediately regretting it. “Well… not like-- “here” as in the area, but like, into your house. That’s what I was thanking you for. You didn’t like… summon me or anything." She held up the mug. “I… is it supposed to taste like that? I’ve never actually had any before and I think I made it wrong.” slowly, you started to descend the staircase, walking through the piles of shed fur past the empty crate and into the kitchen. “Um… yeah. I-- I think you forgot to put a filter in the machine. That’s why it’s… wait, but you… how did…” she stared at you for a second, waiting for me to figure it out, even through the clear tiredness on her face, it was obviously visible that she was somewhat disappointed you hadn’t already realized. “Wait!” you shouted, all the puzzle pieces snapping together, but without much conscious certainty due to just how outside the box it was. “You… you were the wolf?” she grinned slightly, a sort of “now you’ve got it” expression as she turned back to the coffee machine and tried to get it to work.

“...right. “Werewolf,” “Lycan”, if you want to get scientific.... Whatever you want to call it. Now, I repeat m’ previous question about the clothes. Kind of freezing my knot off--”

“Then why are you walking around right now?” she was completely caught off guard by the fact that out of all the questions you could have asked, that was the one you started with. The worldview-shattering revelations of the nature of biology itself could wait. Your work wasn’t done. She didn’t try to argue as you led her over to the couch, the conversation having paused completely until she was lying down and you had made completely sure that she understood that she wasn’t supposed to get up again, then rushed off momentarily to get what medical supplies you hadn’t used the previous night.

“You’re handling this information surprisingly well.” she mumbled in between sips of the coffee that you had made as you carefully moved aside the blanket, unwrapping the bandages and sighing with relief upon seeing that not only had that bit of movement not damaged the stitches, but also however her transformation worked, it had kept them in the correct places. The medkit was put back on the shelf, and the bandages were cut into a length that fit her current form better. “Most people freak out.”

“Well,” you said, bringing over a second blanket and placing it on top of her, “that’s a disheartening number of people’s reaction to me, so… I kind of get it.” 

“Oh! You’re also…”

“Huh? No, I’m trans. Didn’t know werewolves were real until a few minutes ago.” she chuckled softly for a moment.

“That was what I meant. So am I.” you both laughed for a minute, (her with some difficulty, but with enough volume to reassure you that her lungs weren’t damaged.) “But similarities aside, usually werewolves turning out to be real takes a bit longer than that to process.”

“You’re my patient.” you said firmly. “Top priority was making sure you didn’t get hurt. Second priority, which is what I can focus on now, is figuring out all the werewolf stuff.” she pondered this for a bit, then spoke.

“Okay… so, what’s your first question?”

“How did it happen?” 

“So, Lycanthropy isn’t exactly… well-known. Real lycanthropy, I mean. They don’t teach you about it in school, or anything. However… As it turns out, we’re pretty good for the ecosystem. We fill a niche that’s been empty for a while, keep the deer population under control… so if you know where to look, sometimes you can find an organization that can turn you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it sucks. The process, I mean, not the lycanthropy. Ten layers of bureaucracy in between you and actually scheduling your appointment, the crazy long wait time once you’ve actually got it scheduled, all the forms of ID you need to bring in case something goes wrong and they need to identify who it was that just ran into the forest never to be seen again… the actual initial turning isn’t as bad as all the warnings they make you read make it look,” she lowered the blanket around her shoulders, revealing a sizable bite scar. “But it’s not exactly a walk in the park, pun intended. It’s definitely worth it though, if turning is what you needed.” she didn’t seem to notice that you had been silent for a while, lost in thought. “Anyway, I’ve been doing pretty well ever since. It feels amazing, going out on a hunt when the weather’s nice. Can’t exactly go into detail on how it feels without getting a little weird, but I think you’d get it.”

“I think I do.” you said, “but… you should probably rest for a bit. We can pick up on this conversation later.” she nodded and shifted her position slightly. “Hey! Don’t scratch that!” 

One implied threat involving a cone later, you made your way back up the stairs. Even if there were plenty of parallels, processing all that information did take some time. “There is a werewolf on my couch” was one thing, but there was something about that whole exchange that made your mind race and your heart pound. Some reason beyond the surprise, beyond the shock to what you had previously believed, beyond the whole excitement of the encounter, hell, beyond even the fact that even though you hadn’t been consciously paying attention at the moment, you were pretty sure that your legs had started shaking when she’d said the word knot, an aspect of the whole encounter expanded on by the fact that it seemed werewolves did not carry their clothes with them when shifted. No, it was more than just that. Some part of it, some sneaking suspicion that prowled in the back of your mind, clawing like an animal in a cage at the walls of your subconscious, a desire you’d had. One you’d abandoned long ago because you’d thought that life didn’t work like that. An offhand daydream that now filled your mind with one suspicion, one question, now to nobody but yourself-- is it really that easy? Does it really work that well? That question you hadn’t let yourself ask for so long, ignored every time because it hurt to think about when your answer had been no. but… maybe. For now, it stayed as it had been. A sneaking suspicion, but now stronger. Maybe your previous answer was wrong.

Your patient, for the most part, did quite well over the next few weeks-- stayed on the couch, had plenty of appetite, and only whined a little bit when you changed the bandages-- you’d even managed to find some spare clothes for her, though you had to search a bit for some shirts that wouldn’t get stretched. Either lycanthropy made HRT more effective, or she’d been on it for way longer than you had. Only real challenge was that she tended to get lonely. You tried to keep things professional at first, of course, talking to her in your “speaking-to-clients” voice, and offering to move her to the couch in your office for a little extra privacy, but with just how frequently she’d asked you to watch movies with her or wait to make a request until you were just about to leave the house, you’d quickly realized that being professional was not at all what she needed. Even though she knew that she was going to be stuck on the couch for a while, even though she was supposed to just be your patient, all she really wanted was to just be seen as a roommate. You could tell in the way she tried to make small talk whenever you walked past-- how excited she always got when you found something to talk about. Screw “keeping things professional.” She needs someone to talk to.

“Wait…” she said one day as you prepared to make a trip to the store. “Can you get me--” 

“You can just say that you want me to stay for a bit longer” the statement caught both of you off guard, a small comment half out of frustration and half out of hope that she’d take you up on the offer. The room was silent for a second.

“Please?” she asked. Slowly, you walked over to the couch, sitting down on one end of it as she moved her legs out of the way. “I… so, you’ve…” she stammered, moving slightly until she was up against the back of the couch and clutching her pillow. “I was wondering--” with a sigh, you removed your coat, tossing it onto the coffee table and interrupting her request by fulfilling it. She exclaimed softly as you flopped down onto the couch next to her. Gingerly, she moved one hand up, out from under the blanket and placed it in yours. You could feel yourself start to blush as the two of you laced your fingers together, her hand slightly colder than yours but warming up quickly. It was nice-- a sort of soft, quiet confirmation, slowly expanded as you wrapped your arms around each other and you were pulled into a tight embrace. 

“Yeah, it’s okay.” you murmured as she held you, starting to… tremble slightly as you moved your hand in slow, gentle circles along her back. She was surprisingly strong for someone so injured, holding on so tight that you were pretty sure you couldn’t leave if you’d tried. “You’re… really touch-starved, aren’t you.” she nodded. One thing was certain, she had definitely needed this. 

After a minute her hands started to wander, tracing along your arms to all over your upper body, an exploration driven by the desire to know you, to memorize your shape, your scent, your warmth. Just thinking about it, that way she explored, immersing herself in a thousand sensations-- mapping out every part of you with a full sensory profile-- just that feeling was on a completely different level from and of the other times you’d spent a quiet afternoon with someone in this way. That she could understand. It honestly left you envious. How could someone be able to know anything like this? To learn of it in every aspect, the full complexity of something all laid out before them, that near-omniscience that you had searched for in every ecology class, every late night spent listening to the sounds of the forest, every time you had sprinted through the woods on a moonlit evening-- to just breathe deeply and find the truth of it, the nature of it. Beyond your limited human senses, looking down from the top of the trophic pyramid freely. 

“...thanks.” she said, letting her hands rest gently on the sides of your face. “Can I… tell you something?” of course. Of course she could. “I’m just-- feeling really alone. I’m… the only one in the state. Had to drive really far to be turned, even. that’s-- that’s not how it’s supposed to be. We’re not solitary creatures.” 

“Lycans?”

“People.”  she curled forward slightly, pressing her forehead into your collarbone. “Lycans, yes, but also just people. Running through the forest, being able to taste the entirety of nature in a single breath-- it’s amazing, but I… I don’t want to have to do it alone, it’s--” slowly, she relaxed her grip, looking up to face you. “It’s still kind of scary, going into the forest at night. It’s huge, wonderful, delicious, but… the first step out the door is still hard to make. I get scared, out there in the woods. I get scared and then-- and then I can’t shift right and I get slowed down and I get hurt." In her voice, you could just barely hear that tiredness that had been there when she had first arrived at your house, the exhaustion of being afraid, permeating through every other aspect of the words-- the sadness, the hope, even the fear itself. She was silent for a second, then leaned in, her face inches, then centimeters from your shoulder until finally she was close enough that you could feel the movement of her lips as she spoke. “May I?” yes. Please. Do it. That feeling, that warmth as you felt that gentle pressure moving across the side of your neck was enough to make your face feel hot, gasping softly as the kiss traveled upwards towards your face, tight and precise as you first felt it on your collarbone but gradually relaxing until you could feel her tongue running along your throat. Could she feel with her lips how fast your heart was pounding? Could she taste it? There was no possible chance of keeping hold of conscious thought as the flood of sensation rushed through your brain, just the desire was left, just the need for this to keep going. No way to contain the sounds that escaped as she bit down gently on your ear. You didn’t need to contain them anyway. 

“Am I doing good?” she asked playfully before sliding a hand around to the back of your head, pulling you closer again and putting your lips to hers. You couldn’t respond, of course, even if anything but moans could come out of your mouth at this point, you couldn’t say anything as the kiss deepened until your saliva was dripping down the side of your face onto the couch. You got your answer across just fine with how much your legs shook, though-- how tightly you squeezed her shoulder as you felt her other hand brush against your thigh. 

Eventually she pulled back, a single tendril of saliva between your blushing faces. You let out a quiet whine. She had stopped just when things were about to speed up.

“We should… probably wait a bit.” she said. “Full disclosure, sometimes I transform accidentally if I get too excited, and… well, I don’t want to tear these clothes you let me borrow, and you said no shifting until I’m fully healed.” 

“Yeah…” you replied disappointedly, slowly starting to cool down slightly. “You’re right. Don’t want to mess up the bandages.” you were both silent for a minute. “But… just wondering… would you have to stop if that happened?” she leaned forward again.

“That’s entirely up to you.” she whispered into your ear. Gradually, you sat up, making sure to keep holding onto her hand as you moved until her head was resting on your lap. You could feel your heartbeat and hers slow down, no longer as frantic as they had just been, leaving only a gentle sort of warmth that you could feel spreading from your fingertips throughout your body as you began to pet her head. You had one question, one request, that you needed to make. You decided to wait until she was in a state to fulfill it to ask. 

You’d suspected that your guest-- no, your roommate, healed a bit faster than average from the fact that she had been able to walk around (probably shouldn’t have, though) immediately after waking up on the first morning, but this suspicion was quickly confirmed as one day while changing the bandages you had noticed that one of the wounds had closed completely. Maybe it was the lycanthropy, maybe the injuries were never as bad as you had thought they were, or maybe some combination of the two plus the fact that she had something to look forward to once she was completely healed. Whatever the reason, the stitches were out barely a month after you’d put them in and almost immediately afterwards, it had gone from her not being allowed to walk to you not being able to for half the day. You’d thought about it for quite some time, of course-- long before you’d even known that werewolves were real-- but fantasizing about it was simply not on the same level as actually feeling the muscles and bones inside the hand that was holding onto your shoulder twist and snap, nails growing into claws as she shifted halfway through, each sensation changing slightly-- hearing the hot breath against the back of your neck turn to canine panting, feeling as newly sprouted fur brushed back and forth against your skin with each movement-- and then that moment after as she changes back, looking at you expectantly with that expression on her face that could not possibly better convey the question of “did I do good?”, waiting eagerly for you to regain your senses enough to answer. Every moment was laced with that question, the one that had gnawed at the edges of your mind since the first morning-- that desire to keep up, to be on her level, that envy for lack of a better word. At the moment, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat like a chew toy at best, not that you particularly minded. Those weeks and eventually months after she had healed were by far some of the best in your life, understanding what she had meant as your long walks at night became better with company. It still felt like just a walk. She couldn’t exactly hunt that effectively with your human footsteps making so much noise, but she had said it was fine. It didn't feel fine, though, not for lack of the excursions’ quality, but because watching her run circles around you in the moonlight, ducking under low branches and weaving through the trees as if she was swimming through the forest reminded you of what you weren’t.

Or rather, what you weren’t yet. 

“Can I ask you for something?” you said one day as you returned from a morning walk. “It’s… I’m not entirely sure if you could, and I’m definitely not sure that it’s entirely legal, but…” She leapt onto the couch, landing in human form and looking at you, confused but intrigued. You took a deep breath, then asked, the question tearing through its cage into your conscious mind as the words formed on your tongue after too long spent waiting to be said. It felt good to finally say them. She smiled when she heard it, as if she had been waiting for you to ask-- hoping that you would finally request that she do this for you. Four words-- that’s all it was. Four words were all you needed. Described all you needed. Compressed that desire, that need to know the nature of the forest, to know her-- all into one question.

“Can you turn me?”

She grinned, standing and walking towards you before suddenly pulling you close and kissing you. Over the time you’d known her, you’d learned that kisses could say things-- so much potential for all sorts of emotions to be woven into the passion. You could read this one clearly in the warm, gentle sigh right before contact, the sense of relief felt in every moment of it, that slight hunger to it-- 

“Of course~” she said, her face still inches from yours. “I could do it tonight, if you want… I’ll need to prepare you a bit for it-- your room as well. It’s quite an… Involved process.” you nodded, almost frantically, your heart pounding in anticipation. “Good!” she reached up and patted you on the head. “Can’t wait.” She turned and walked up the stairs to your room, pulling the blankets from your bed and piling them in the corner. 

“You didn’t seem surprised when I asked.” you stated as you followed close behind, helping set up your room as she directed. 

“Oh, please.” she tossed the towels she had just retrieved onto the now-empty bed and slid over to you, placing a hand on your chin and staring directly into your eyes. That look on her face made you wonder if she was about to sink her teeth into you then and there. “In all that time I’ve been a werewolf-- hell, in all the time I’ve known they existed and probably even before then-- I have never seen anyone who needed this more than you. I could tell from the way you asked how I became like this.” your face had immediately turned bright red. At first, you had thought that part of the excitement of this relationship was in some part due to the novelty, but that notion was quickly disproven as the days turned to weeks and her ability to set your heart pounding with just a few words had not diminished at all. The two of you continued to prepare the room, removing any breakable objects from it as well as “anything you don’t want getting stained.” she wasn’t exactly specific, but while she said that your posters probably wouldn’t be at risk, it was probably best to take them down temporarily, as apparently you could never tell for sure what might be in the “splash zone.” an average person likely would have been somewhat put off by the vagueness or lack thereof of what exactly the experience would entail, but an average person probably wouldn’t have invited a werewolf into their house, and definitely wouldn’t have upgraded the nature of that invitation upon deeming said werewolf healed up enough to accept. The average person didn’t need this like you did, though. Like both of you did. They didn’t feel that frustration, stuck between barely seeing anything and seeing nothing beyond the range of some horrible light as the only means of experiencing the dark. They didn’t feel the need to breathe in the cold night air like you did, to tear into the nature of things, cracking open bones to drink the truth of the forest from inside. They did not care about the question of “what am I?” and even if they did, they did not come to the conclusion of “not this. No, I am more. Should be more. I’ve been working on it, but I’m not done yet.” 

You shivered slightly as you felt the cold air on your skin, your cheapest towels feeling itchy against your legs as you knelt in the center of the bed, arms by your sides. All you’d been able to do was wait once you’d finished setting up the room. You couldn’t focus on anything else with what you knew would happen in just a few hours, and once the sun had gone down you’d practically rushed through the final preparations-- open all the doors from the porch to your room, make sure you were only wearing clothes that you were okay with being shredded, which did not describe any clothes you owned. You regretted your decision to not find any sacrificial clothing  slightly, not expecting how chilly you would get, but apparently once it started, you’d be heating up really fast and would probably just be out of them pretty soon anyway. The room was dark, with the only light coming from the moon through the window. you stared at it absentmindedly.

“So… what are the towels for?” you asked as she paced around, performing a few final checks and making sure said towels covered the mattress completely. You had been so caught up in the excitement of anticipation that you hadn’t quite asked that much about what exactly the process would entail, not that anything anyone would have said could possibly have stopped you from wanting to do this. She reached over, gently lifting your arm and running a single finger from your shoulder down to your hand. 

“This process isn’t any more clean than it is painless.” she said, moving her hand back up and lightly squeezing different parts of your arm and shoulder, as if trying to find the softest part. “When I had it done, I ended up bleeding from my pores. All over. Bones might end up breaking the skin too, but it’ll heal in a few minutes, and next time you shift everything will know exactly where to go.” it felt nice, somehow-- hearing that last part.-- “next time you shift.” you weren’t just hearing her talk about it now. Now you were part of it-- this side, this aspect of the world. You hadn’t even noticed how separate you had felt from it before, how separate even from the concept of yourself you had been. This is who I am. It was almost strange to think about how meaningless to you the word “I” had been until now-- like snapping out of a daydream, only this was you reentering the present-- your sense of self coming back into focus with your consciousness-- for the first time. The air seemed much more crisp already as you leaned back and she began to gently probe your chest and stomach, one of which was already feeling slightly sore from your other journey towards gaining a body that is truly your own, (which you were quite proud of your recent progress in, though the clothes you’d just bought to compliment it were currently lying in the hallway) and the other because on her suggestion, you’d skipped dinner. “We’ll be finding ourselves some dinner out tonight.” she had said earlier. 

You sat up, returning to your kneeling position as she stepped back and leaned forward into a deep stretch before pulling off her shirt and tossing it into the hallway. “Ready?” you asked excitedly. She gave a short nod. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, letting your arms rest limply at your sides again, relaxing every muscle as much as you could as she gently patted your head. 

“It’s going to hurt.” she said. “But also… so does everything else, really. No avoiding it if you want to live any real life. Believe me, it’s not easy to take the first step off the porch, and that gets more true the darker the forest is. Yeah, parts of it will suck. Parts of it will make you feel like you’re getting torn apart and that you can’t be sure of anything. Hell, parts of it might make you regret it for a second-- make you think that it wasn’t worth it.” she let out a brief sigh before continuing. “But just remember…” you felt her hand slide down from the top of your head to the side of your face and opened your eyes just a bit to see her staring intensely. “That you’re alive, and all that it entails. Things hurt. Things change. You lose people and you find others. Sometimes it's so dark that you wouldn’t be able to see anything without changing, and sometimes you might find one night that you’ve changed and now you can see the whole forest clearer than ever. It’s going to hurt, but… every second is going to feel amazing.” in the dim light, you could see that she was crying slightly. “That’s-- that’s what it is to be alive. That’s what it means to be you. To finally become yourself. The sheer exhilaration of change. It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt, and sometimes there’s been pain along the way, but don’t let anyone tell you it’s not worth it.” she took a deep breath before stepping back once more. “Alright, that’s enough hype. Let’s do this.” You could see a soft smile on her face before you closed your eyes again, focusing on your breathing as you heard the familiar sound of flesh and bones twisting and warping in front of the bed before that heavy thud as paws hit the ground. Then, from where she stood came a long howl. The sound of it carried that same excitement as you had felt on every long night, every moonlit walk, the same anticipation as you’d had that night, just about to leave the house right before the encounter that changed your perception of what you were allowed to be. 

Your heart almost skipped a beat as the large shape before you lept from the floor and landed heavily on the bed in front of you, nearly pitching you forward as her weight pressed into the mattress. You could feel each step she took towards you, one foot, then the other, then the other, then the other until finally you could feel the heat of her breath and the pressure of her front leg on your thigh, claws digging into your skin sightly as she leaned in close enough to taste you. The anticipation was far more excruciating. You flinched as you felt a cold, wet nose against your chest, stationary for a moment before beginning to travel, exploring every inch of you with each inhalation. You knew that she’d already decided on where to bite. Same place she’d had it, same place every voluntary lycan probably had it. Maybe she was just teasing a bit, knowing how it made you blush whenever she explored you like this-- how much it set your heart pounding just thinking about how close her teeth and tongue were to your skin. That, or maybe she was just taking in your pre-turning scent one last time as a sort of “before picture” so that she could see afterwards how much you’d evolved. Finally, you felt as she moved up, standing at her full height over you as you trembled with anticipation, adrenaline, and who knows what else, opening her mouth and running that huge tongue across your collarbone, saliva coating your shoulder and dripping down onto your legs. Focus on your breathing. There wasn’t anything else to do, really, as she leaned forward and gently but hungrily slid her jaws over your shoulder, making sure everything was lined up perfectly, shifting slightly to right between your shoulder and your neck. You could feel the slight pressure of each tooth against your skin, just light enough at first to let you know where they were, where they were going to pierce. She was large enough when shifted that the front teeth on her upper jaw were almost below your shoulder blade.

Slowly, the pressure increased, gradually enough to give you time to take a deep breath first, to grip the towels you sat on so tightly that your knuckles turned white as she began to bite down, feeling it start to hurt, barely noticeable at first but but increasing in intensity until you had to grit your teeth. The seconds seemed to last forever as you waited. 

It didn’t hurt as much as you’d expected as you felt each tooth sink into you, waves of pain shooting through your entire body as they pierced through skin and fat until they dug between the fibers of your muscles themselves. They punctured through soft and yielding flesh seemingly one by one, the longer ones first, sinking deeper into you with every other tooth that broke the skin until you felt molars scraping directly against your collarbone, threatening to snap it in two. It was only half a second of that intense pain until you felt it-- that other feeling, seeping into your shoulder gradually at first, almost indistinguishable from the warmth of the blood starting to ooze from around each still-embedded tooth. Not pain, not numbness-- clarity. You could feel the texture of her teeth through the pain, her saliva soaking into your bloodstream, even the wind on your skin you could feel more clearly than ever before. Another half second passed, then it accelerated, that feeling surging through you, setting every nerve on fire with the sheer amount of sensation that ran through them. It felt like you never felt anything before then, like all your senses had been dulled for your entire life up until that moment. Not the first time you’d felt something like this, but definitely the most intense. You threw back your head and let out a sound halfway between a moan and a scream, your brain filling with so much of this feeling that you could barely even think about the pain.

The feeling soon passed, not gone but settled, as if it had simply soaked into you. You could still feel it, but not as intensely as when it had flooded through you just a second earlier. Gently, she relaxed her hold on you, teeth sliding out of your flesh as blood began to flow from the wounds, running down your body in rivulets and onto the towels. She gingerly ran her tongue along the bite mark, licking off the blood as much as she could as she shifted slowly until it was the lips of her human form that you felt.

“You can open your eyes now.” she said. The moonlight seemed so bright even through your eyelids now, you’d almost forgotten they were closed. She smiled warmly at you, mouth still stained red. “You did really good. How did it feel?” you struggled for a second to remember how to speak.

“...amazing.” you stammered. You couldn’t even begin to describe it, that way your mind had filled with so much of your senses that your consciousness had barely been able to keep up. Your hands were shaking slightly as you reached up to wipe the blood from her face, almost recoiling when you felt how intensely you were now able to feel the warmth of her skin. She patted your head.

“I knew you’d enjoy it. Can you still feel it?” you nodded. “Is it starting to heat up yet?” as you concentrated, you could feel the warmth around the bite starting to intensify. It spread through your body more slowly than that feeling had, a simple increase in temperature as your body detected something that it didn’t want there. Each muscle seemed to tighten until you could barely move your shoulder and the knowledge that something was happening began to seep into the back of your mind. You nodded again, and she seemed almost surprised. “It’s starting already?” she said as she reached behind you and straightened the towels on the mattress. “Wow, okay… thought you’d have a bit more time to catch your breath, but… just lie back. The more hands-on part’s done. You can let your body take it from here.”

With her help you managed to lie down, the wounds on your back sticking uncomfortably to the towels as your shoulder started to feel painfully hot. She leaned over you and stared directly into your eyes before she spoke.

“The initial shift’s about to happen.” she whispered, squeezing your hand. “I can’t really say for certain what it’ll be like for you, but… I think you’re going to do great and it’s going to feel great. I’m here if you need me.” you looked up at her and smiled.

“I really wish I’d known you back when I was starting my transition.” you said. “Would have been a lot easier.”

Slowly, a dull ache began to permeate through you, starting in each joint and spreading quickly outward until every part of you felt sore and tender. You wanted to stretch, but somehow you already knew that it wouldn’t help. This part is just going to suck for a bit. The pain didn’t turn sharp immediately-- It didn’t instantly give way to the twisting and snapping you’d seen in each of her transformations-- it just got louder as you curled up as tightly as you could, trying to keep your focus on the sensation of her fingers gently pressing into your back, providing some small relief from the soreness. She knew what this felt like. The pain never seemed to reach your mind, though. It didn’t cloud your thoughts like you’d initially expected it to. When you’d first felt it creeping into your muscles, you’d thought that it would only be a few minutes before you were a quivering mess, unable to concentrate on anything but how much it hurt, but… you didn’t give it the satisfaction. Even as it started to get so bad that you began to toss and turn, whimpering almost involuntarily as your whole body felt like it was filled with needles, it never felt to you like anything more than an annoyance. Yeah, it hurt. Like no cramp or pulled muscle ever had before, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care because this wasn’t just pain. There was a reason for it, one that you agreed with so you didn’t care if there was a bit of soreness in the way. You sat up and hugged her tightly. So what if it hurts. You thought. It’s worth it, because even if I- WAIT, WHAT THE-- you fell backwards as you felt it, that sudden jolt that surged through you, muscles twitching as it hit. You heart was pounding, mind racing, entire body shaking as you felt things begin to move beneath you skin. The warmup was over. It was time for the main event.

As the sounds of the night began to come alive just outside the window, every part of you felt like it was folding in on itself and it felt wonderful, each breath sending a pulse of elation though you as your ribs started to warp. What had you expected? Did it even matter? No. no it did not, because nothing your before-self could have imagined could ever compare. Could not compare to the feeling of muscles severing and reattaching themselves, of the flesh of your fingers fusing together as dead skin fell from your fingertips, new cells coating them with a rough paw pad, of the structure of your jaw snapping under the sheer force of its own growth before being pulled back together as your teeth began to lengthen. Nothing could compare to just how alive it made you feel. Each second felt more right than the last, each bone setting itself into its new position feeling like it was always meant to go there, skin itching right up until the moment that fur began to sprout from it-- and something else. Something that you felt as strongly as any physical change, racing freely through both your body and mind as each second twisted them together until there was barely any distinction between the two. Something that you could hear even as your ears moved from their former positions to the top of your gradually elongating skull. Something you tried to put into words, but all that came out was a howl that expressed it better than any language ever could have.

It’s you. Finally, all of it-- all of yourself. It’s you. 

The moonlight tasted clearer on the tongue of what you were than the human you would have died as otherwise, each breath carrying a symphony of scents. The night itself seemed to be what drifted up from the open door downstairs, everything you’d stayed up late pondering now as tangible to you as the floor beneath your feet as you rose shakily from the bed, fur soaked with your own blood and tail wagging like it was the first time you’d ever actually been able to express happiness. She followed shortly after, leaping from the bed with two legs and landing with four, circling around you excitedly. You laid down for a second, letting her explore you as she’d done dozens of times before, licking the blood off half just to know what you tasted like now. 

You rose to your feet and together, descended the staircase and stepped out onto the porch. You’d never thought of the night as empty. Cold, yes-- painfully out of reach, but not empty. Content with the knowledge that it was alive, even if you couldn’t see it. You had thought you were content with it, at least. Feeling the night like this now, every sense telling you all the information that was now within reach, leaping from the porch and sprinting with her into the forest made you realize retroactively that just knowing what you were missing was not enough.The euphoria that came from that night, running through the dark in which you could now see, being a part of it, was as wonderful as the first time you’d worn clothes that made you realize the meaning of the word. Singing in long, single notes that could be heard for miles, no longer simply pondering the mysteries of the forest at night but being one of them. A sound in the symphony for all to hear. For others to ponder themselves and maybe, just maybe, to follow if they allowed themselves to open the door.

[weemssapphic]

Split in half

Larissa Weems x f!reader

This is a part two to We're not who we used to be set a few months after that fic, from Larissa's POV. It's just as angsty as part one, maybe even worse. It's inspired by the song Stick Season by Noah Kahan. Enjoy 😅

Words: ~1.5k | ao3 link in title

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

-

“Ow - fuck!”

It takes Larissa’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness blanketing her quarters. She steadies herself against the little table by the door and squints at the floor as she searches for whatever she’s just tripped over that caused her to ram her hip into the corner of said table. 

Now she remembers - she’d changed her mind about her heels that morning and left the initial pair next to the door. She sighs and kicks off the heels she’s wearing now, leaving them lying haphazardly next to the others.

She walks towards the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light now that her eyes have adjusted to the darkness. Pain blooms in her hip, growing sharper with each step - she can already feel the deep purple bruise forming across her hip bone. She opens the fridge and stoops down, the bright, fluorescent glow shooting straight through her eyeballs into her already throbbing skull, making her eyes water. The fridge is nearly empty and Larissa groans in frustration as she closes its door and blindly reaches for the cabinets above the stove instead, running her fingertips across the smooth, familiar wood as her eyes adjust again.

Her fingers bump into the little brass handle and she opens the cabinet, pulling out the first bottle she finds. Whiskey. She opens another cabinet and takes out a crystal tumbler, then pads across her quarters to her little balcony, clutching both bottle and tumbler to her chest. 

A chill seeps through her stockings and straight into her bones as she steps outside, and she grits her teeth as she lowers herself onto the oversized pillow she’d taken out here when she first started spending her evenings after work out on the balcony. 

It’s a lot colder tonight than it was those weeks - or has it been months? - ago. Fall is as good as over, the trees barren of their gorgeous red and orange foliage, but winter hasn’t fully started yet either, the first snowfall having yet to make an appearance.

Larissa pours some of the amber liquid into the tumbler, raising it to her lips and tossing it back in one go. It burns her throat and the swift motion smudges her lipstick, not that that matters. It warms her a little from the inside, so she pours herself another.

She supposes she could do something productive, or at least try to distract herself, but there’s not really a point - she can’t read books or watch films or even knit without spending the entire time trying to reign in her wandering thoughts. Even her work is suffering as a result.

She should’ve seen it coming, really, you leaving her. After all, she thinks bitterly, as her thoughts once again hone in on you, she had been rather absent in your marriage. Even when you told her you were moving out, that you were done trying, she could hardly wrap her head around it. Hardly believe it was actually over.

On the day you’d left, she’d woken up to a horribly loud rummaging in the closet. It was a Sunday, and she remembered the pang of irritation that mixed with her confusion, the frustration that you’d woken her early on the only day she ever slept in. She’d remembered readying herself to berate you, tasting the words on her sharp tongue as she’d pushed herself up onto her elbow - the words dying just as quickly as they’d come when her sleep-filled eyes were met with the sight of your half-full suitcase (the big one, the one you used for longer vacations) on the floor in front of the walk-in. 

Between stuffing everything from your underwear to a few framed photos into the suitcase, you’d explained your reasoning rather coolly for someone who usually wore her heart on her sleeve and cried at even comedy films - it had unsettled Larissa to see you so casual about leaving. Perhaps it was due to this that she didn’t say much. She didn’t say any of the things she should have said, any of the things you might’ve hoped she’d say or the things she wishes today that she had said. She’d watched you pack, nodding along to whatever you were saying about divorce lawyers - divorce? - and robotically seeing you to the door. 

Your tires had screeched a bit on your way down the driveway - the sound rings in Larissa’s ear as she tosses back another tumbler of whiskey.

Everything had passed so quickly after that, weeks and months blurring together. She’d signed the divorce papers in what she can, in hindsight, only describe as a fugue-like state, not realizing until much later the full consequences of her actions. And ‘much later’, apparently, translated into ‘too late’.

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad No, I am no longer funny, 'cause I miss the way you laugh You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back

One tumbler turns into two turns into three, and then she’s abandoned the glass in favor of drinking straight from the bottle. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her blazer, scrolling to your contact as if on autopilot and staring at it as if it would suddenly come to life.

You’d forgotten an old pair of sneakers at the back of the closet. She’d told you when you’d stopped by with the divorce papers, and you’d told her to just throw them out.

Just throw them out.

It should be so easy. They’re dirty and they stink and the sole is peeling off on the right one. Every time Larissa sees them, she picks them up and wills herself to walk straight to the trash bin. She picks them up - then puts them right back, next to her own rarely-used running shoes.

Larissa clicks ‘call’. She lifts the phone to her ear as she waits, taking another gulp of whiskey. It doesn’t burn anymore.

Her throat gets tighter with every ring, a thin film of tears beginning to blur her eyes. After a few long minutes, the call goes to your voicemail - which is full - and Larissa’s tears spill over, clinging to her lashes before racing each other down her cheeks.

“Pick up, goddamnit!” she growls, her voice hoarse and wet. She tosses her phone angrily onto the floor beside her, not caring if it gets scratched.

There was a time when you’d have picked up the phone in the middle of a packed movie theater if it was her calling - now she hasn’t been able to get ahold of you since the divorce was finalized. It’s at least half her fault, she supposes, but she’s still angry at you for ignoring her. For leaving her. Even if she seemed intent on driving you away.

It’s getting late. Larissa knows this not because she’s checked the time, or because the moon is already high in the night sky, but because time always manages to slip away from her when she’s sitting out here, and because her ass is numb and her knees hurt from sitting in one position for so long. 

She pushes herself up, a bit shaky on her feet, nearly stumbling then steadying herself against the railing of the balcony. She bends, stumbling again, grabs the whiskey bottle by the neck, fumbles with the tumbler, then makes her way into her quarters, leaving her phone on the floor and the balcony door open behind her. It’s been so drafty in her quarters lately.

The bottle of whiskey is placed on the counter and, as Larissa goes to place the tumbler into the sink to be washed, it slips and shatters, shards of glass flying everywhere. She feels the warmth of her own blood on her finger before she feels the sting of the cut.

“Fuck!” 

A little bit of moonlight is streaming into the kitchen, and Larissa raises her finger into the light and stares at it, watching blood form a large bead on her fingertip, then slowly trickle down towards her hand. She sucks her finger between her lips, trying to stem the flow of blood. The metallic taste mixes with the whiskey on her tongue and, as she stands there in the darkness of her kitchen, she suddenly feels tired, so unbelievably tired.

She wants to call you again. She wants to tell your full voicemail box to go fuck itself, all she wants is to hear your voice. It’s all she wants yet it’s all she can’t do. 

-

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

x

Taglist: @alexusonfire @pro-weems-places @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @fictionalized-lesbian @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @http-sam @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @niceminipotato @thevillagegay @barbarasstar @lilfartbox1 @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @thesamesweetie @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @daydream-cement @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @ilovetlcc @lesbiahonest24 @wastdstime @gwens0girl @larissa-weems-chokehold @makemyworldworthliving @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr @nightingalespen @jadewolf22 @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @gwens-wife

[miridiums-writing]

Hey could you write like a Thranduil x y/n thing? I kinda need it right now.

No Escape

Thranduil x reader fan fic

Imagine : If only you didn’t look so similar to his passed wife, maybe you could have made it out of the elven kingdom with the others.

Authors note : im sorry ive been gone so long, im back now though I promise. Ill set up a new masterlist and we can all forget my old works don’t exist because I hate them all.

The forest was so dark, you and the rest of the company trying to navigate through the winding trails. It was all going fine and well until you all realized you were gong in continuous circles. Seeing the same trees, the same oddly shaped rocks over and over that you all realized something was wrong. “lets just set up camp for now and try again tomorrow.” You insisted, noticing the frustration of the others. “Fine,” Thorin conceded. “We get out of here tomorrow though, we have to keep pushing forwards.”

With that you all settled down for the night, you went off to gather some wood for a fire with Bilbo, unsurprisingly your favourite of the company given how down to earth he was, plus the pure entertainment factor he brought to the group at times due to his cushioned upbringing. “Do you think we actually will get out tomorrow?” Bilbo asked, clearly more worried if that could be the case than he let on. “’course we will, we’ve gotten this far haven’t we?” You reassured, patting the top of Bilbo’s head in hopes of calming his anxiety. “I suppose so.” He mused, adding another stick to the bundle you had already gathered. “Exactly,” You said with a warm smile. “Nothing left to bring us down now except the dragon.” Bilbo seemed to grimace at this. “Don’t remind me” He grumbled. You just laughed lightly. “You’re far too negative, always hope for the best, and prepare for the worst. That’s why you’re here, you little burglar.” “I’m not a burglar.” He reminded. “Well, you’re the best we’ve got, maybe when we’re out of this forest I can help train you how to be stealthy.”

The light banter between the two is quickly cut off by a very loud thump against the forest floor, almost shaking the ground between the pair of you. You immediately dropped the pile of branches to the moss ground, breaking into a sprint back to the others, you could here them in the distance fighting when you’re path was blocked by the biggest spider you’ve ever seen in your life. It was a large black, hairy thing, immediately trying to shoot webs in your direction to catch you. Adrenalin jumped you into first gear, dodging by a hair at the first shot, and bringing your bow and arrow from your back to aim at the spider, aiming right between the eyes and firing the shot. The shot lands. The spider falls, only for three more to appear in its place. This was not going to be easy.

You reach back grabbing another arrow and letting it fly, hitting each spider as they came with pristine accuracy. Even with such accuracy though from years training, it didn’t seem to be enough. The arrows quickly started to dwindle, before running out. Not having enough time between spiders to scavenge for your arrows, leaving you eventually cornered, and empty handed. Though just as one of the spiders went to launch itself at you it got violently thrown backwards by...an elf?

~~~~~

You couldn’t decide whether you preferred the spiders, or this. Getting dragged, cuffed, towards a rathe impressive looking castle. Not that you’d ever say that allowed, in fear of further angering Thorin who already looked like he was plotting the elves deaths in detail, shouting, swearing and struggling as he went. You kept your head down, not sure what was about to happen, but not wanting to anger the elves, especially after they went out of their way to save their lives. Even if it meant they’d ended up getting dragged to the dungeons. You had graciously been given a cell alone. Given you were the only woman in the group it seemed only fair. You got yourself comfy against the wall, listening to the others chat amongst themselves on what to do, waiting for a quiet moment to bring up what felt like the most important thing to worry about. “Where is Bilbo?” You said, cutting through the whispers. The others immediately went silent at that. He wasn’t among them, you hadn’t seen him since before the spiders. “Maybe he’s doing what he does best, burgling the keys.” Baldin grunted. You just hoped he was right.

All talk of escape was cut off by guards coming down, leading Thorin from his cell to meet the king. When the dungeon door closed behind them all of you sighed. If Thorin was angry, which he was, all hope of doing this civilly was going to be immediately snuffed out by his rage. The wait for Thorin to come back was long, and silent. Talk of escape had died completely as you all waited tensely for him to return. And return he did. His eyebrows furrowed in rage, cursing under his breath as he was pushed back into his cell resulting in a loud bang as his body collided with the floor. No words needed to be spoken for them to know it hadn’t gone well. The already depressing reality hit like a train. Unless a miracle happened. This was it.

~~~~~~~

You woke up the next morning to banging against the bars of your cell. You were crumpled against the wall, your back strained from the position you’d slept in. “Get up.” The guard said gruffly, starting to poke you with the sheathed sword to fully wake you up. “Get up!” The demanded again, much more aggressively than previously. You slowly started more your cramped body up off of the floor. The cell door opened and two guards immediately grabbed your arms ad started dragging you out of the dungeon to who knows where. The walk was long and winding, it felt like they were taking you on a confusing route on purpose to make sure you didn’t know the way out. Or maybe the halls really were this confusing, who knows. Either way you eventually arrived at a rather impressive looking door. Large green wooden panels made up the door with large tree roots encasing the doors, twirling around the doors handles.

Someone from the other side opened the doors leading to what seemed to be a throne room, with a tall blonde haired man sat on top, a rather dramatic crown upon his head, adorned with gems and jewels to mimic a berry branch. He watched closely as you were dragged in, forced to kneel down in front of him on the ground. His expression seemed to change from mild annoyance to surprise as you got closer. Now kneeled before him, the man stood, towering over you as he stared down at your face, almost like he didn’t believe it. “Oh, it’s you” He said, relief and sadness laced his voice. His legs seemed to give out under him and kneeled down staring at your face with tears in his eyes. “Oh my dear, how I’ve missed you. I though- I thought you died.” He said, his voice cracking slightly as his hand reached for your cheek, fingertips gently grazing your cheek. You stared at him blankly. Not a flicker of recognition behind your eyes as he acted as if you were supposed to know him. Confusion took over his features at your lack of response. “Calatheil? My blossom, why are you acting like you don’t know me?” Now it was your turn to be confused, “That’s not my name, I’m (Y/N).” You said in response. The man went quiet after that, staring holes into the floor. “But you look like her.” He said, his voice firm, like it was a fact. “That doesn’t mean I am her”

The man went silent again for a moment, anger passing over his face before disappearing. “Of course it does,” He said. “You’ve just forgotten is all.” His words were firm and absolute. “Ill just need to remind you, my poor wife” You looked at him as if he was insane. “But I’m not. I am not your wife, I’m sorry. But I’m not... I wanna go back to my cell now.” The man laughed without humour. “Absolutely not, my wife shouldn’t be around such vermin.” “Do you mean the dwarves?” you asked, going on the defensive, they were your friends, were they odd absolutely, but that didn’t mean you loved them any less. “Of course I do! You’ll be going no where near them ever again. Guards, take her to my room, and do not under any circumstances let her get free!” He ordered, standing up from his crouched position and heading back to his thrown. “And bring me Thorin! I may be inclined to allow his freedom under a condition.” You were once again grabbed by guards and dragged out. “No! I’d rather cells, don’t you dare, I’m not your wife! Let me go!” Your shouts died down as you were dragged further away, thrashing in an attempt of any escape, managing to get one arm free only for more guards to hold you, overpowered once more by the numbers. The struggling silenced to Thranduil as the door shut behind you.

[forestclan-clangen]

MOON 8 (Part 2)

<< FIRST | < PREVIOUS |

Hopechase notices that Morningpaw was acting off ever since Tree was invited back to camp. She flags down Barleywave, her mentor. After a lot of pestering, Barleywave agrees to try and talk to her. Hopechase appreciates his effort.

(Hopechase, warrior, female, 90 moons) (Barleywave, warrior, male, 37 moons) (Morningpaw, apprentice, female, 10 moons)

Morningpaw confesses to Barleywave that she's scared of living in the Woods, she's scared of being sacrificed and doesn't want to feed them. Barleywave doesn't know what to say. Desperate, he thinks, "What would Hopechase do?" He gets into a play bow and starts poking and prodding until Morningpaw starts laugh-sobbing, swatting back at her mentor until her pain dulls, becoming bittersweet.

(Barleywave, warrior, male, 37 moons) (Morningpaw, apprentice, female, 10 moons)

---

Barleywave was way out of his depth.

StarClan, why was Hopechase good at bullying you into being a better cat? He was awful. This was awful. He wasn't good with feelings, and even less with being vulnerable about them. He either laughed away his suffering or buried it down in a dirtplace never to be spoken of again. Barleywave, your apprentice is feeling down, Barleywave, go talk to your apprentice, be there for them! Yes. Easy. Definitely, perfectly easy and normal. He was an adult. Feelings were normal. He could talk...about....

Nope, still nauseous.

Barleywave took a deep breath as he approached the entrance to the apprentice's den. He stopped and sat down, briefly taking a moment to admire the outside of it. Talonpaw and Morningpaw had grown attached to the frames they made for the Plentiful Gathering, hanging them outside to show off their work. He remembered how proud they were. They were happy.

And now, Morningpaw wasn't. Hadn't been for a while. And it was his responsibility to fix it.

Come on, Barley. It's just a training patrol. You're just bringing Morningpaw out of camp and hoping to talk. It's not hard, he mentally berated himself. If only it were that easy.

He took a deep breath. If he kept overthinking it, he'd be waiting at the den entrance forever. Forcing his paws forward, he ducked his head inside.

"Hey, Morningpaw?" He asked.

A light brown and white bundle at the back of the den lifted its head up suddenly. "Yeah?"

"Uh, hi. Would you - actually wait, first of all, good morning," Barleywave stumbled on his words. Well, at least he caught himself.

"...But it's sunhigh?" Morningpaw meowed.

Mouse dung.

"Er - right. Apologies. But uh, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a spot of training? Could exercise those reflexes?" He said with a grin.

Morningpaw didn't seem enthused, but she dragged herself out from her bedding and stretched briefly. "Okay."

Barleywave gestured out the door, allowing Morningpaw to pad out first before following behind her. He noticed his apprentice's sluggish movement and drooping tail. His ears flattened briefly with concern before perking up again. "Alrighty, let's head out. Hey Redstar!" Barleywave called out across camp.

Redstar was having a conversation with Windfur. She seemed to be in a tense mood as she turned to look at Barleywave. Her blue eyes were glazed with boiling anger.

Dear StarClan, was everyone having the jitters this moon?

"I'm taking Morningpaw out training at the clearing!"

Redstar nodded and dismissed him with a wave of her tail before resuming her strained conversation with Windfur. Barleywave was glad that Redstar wasn't talking to him right now. He beckoned Morningpaw to follow him, and his apprentice complied without protest.

The forest had grown colder, and the trees had been stripped bare of their colorful leaves by this point in the season. It was always a dull time between leaf-fall and leafbare - too warm for rain to turn to snow, but too cold to enjoy much of anything. Barleywave's dark grey fur bristled out under the wind. 

"Brr," he chattered as he shook himself out. "Pretty cold out, huh?"

Morningpaw didn't respond. Barleywave stopped and turned his head, only to feel his apprentice bump into him.

"Oof - sorry!" Morningpaw squeaked as she scrambled backwards. Her amber eyes were nailed to her paws, and she repeated more quietly, "I'm sorry."

"Hey, no worries." Barleywave felt his chest tighten. Morningpaw was always a bit of a jumpy cat, but he realized that Hopechase was right - she was acting off. By this point, Morningpaw would've launched herself into an endless string of apologies, meeting his gaze with wide, pleading eyes. The fact that she refused to even look at him made him nervous.

Barleywave stopped for a second, lifting his tail to let her know. Morningpaw sat down wordlessly.

The warrior glanced around him, his hazel eyes wide with surprise. Wait, was he doing this now? Well, they weren't at the clearing, but they were far enough from camp. No suspicious plants or bushes, he couldn't smell anything. He guessed this was fine?

Barleywave sat down and faced his apprentice with a nervous expression. How…okay, how was he going to break this subject? How does one ask if someone's doing okay without pressing them? Did - no, SHOULD he press her? He was her mentor. Did he phrase it like a leader? Morningpaw, you must tell me - no, no, that was too pushy. She didn't have to. Yo, Morningpaw, I think - no, wait, who was he? Talonpaw? Well, maybe if -

Morningpaw had torn her gaze from the ground to glance up at her mentor. "...Barleywave?" 

"You good?" he blurted.

Fox-dung.

Silence fell on them like an eagle dropping dead into camp. Barleywave held his breath as he waited for Morningpaw's answer, and the longer she waited, the more anxious he became.

Morningpaw's amber eyes finally wavered with an unknown feeling. "You…you don't have to ask. It's okay."

"What?" he blurted. The air released from his chest and was replaced with jumbled words. "No, no, I'm - come on Morningpaw, I'm your mentor, I'm just asking if you're good. Cause, yannow, I stopped really suddenly and all, and you seemed rather down - not that I'm assuming anything, but, you know, just in case."

"I'm fine. Really."

Barleywave blinked, feeling like a rock hit his gut. He stayed quiet for a moment. "...Are you sure?" Barleywave surprised himself with how firmly he said this. But, he stood by it. It was fine if Morningpaw didn't want to talk to him - he was no good with feelings, everyone knew that after…

His mind muddled the image of a grey and white kit together, before blowing it away.

But…despite that, he wouldn't be a good mentor if he didn't try. He was no good talking about feelings, but maybe his apprentice just needed company, or a listening ear, or something else to focus on. He could spare ten minutes to be the bigger cat, for once in his dumb life.

Morningpaw met his mentor's eyes, and something changed. Maybe she saw something in Barleywave's eyes, maybe she was surprised by his honesty or maybe it was the last straw. But her amber eyes glazed over and flooded with fear and grief. Her lips curled into a fearful snarl as she lay on the floor, covering her eyes with her paws.

"I'm scared!" she wailed. "I'm scared of the woods! I'm scared of the Woodcrawlers, and the tendrils, and - and the Fake Twolegs, and I feel like no one else feels like I do!" Morningpaw's claws unsheathed into her forehead as she continued. "I don't want to die! I don't want to feed the woods! Everyone says that won't happen because Redstar is here, but what about Warblerkit? What about Olive's third kit? What about every single Clan that used to be around the lake?!"

Barleywave froze. His hazel eyes wavered as he stared at her.

"I thought - I thought with Tree telling me there's other territories, that we could leave! We didn't have to live in the woods! We could go somewhere else - where there weren't any Woodcrawlers, and we - and I wouldn't need to be scared anymore, but they told me that wasn't true! They're everywhere! I can't hide, and no one can, and we're all going to die! It doesn't matter if - if I become a kittypet, Woodcrawlers go after Twolegs too! It doesn't matter! There's no hope! I'm - I'm going to die, we're all - " Morningpaw choked back and let out a long, pained caterwaul.

Barleywave stared at his apprentice with wide eyes.

Oh. That was - yeah, that was bad. That was a lot to handle. He was woefully unequipped to deal with existential doom. In fact, he spent the majority of his life not thinking about it, otherwise he would have spiraled into despair. Well, fox dung, maybe that's why he was bad at feelings. But - what could he even say? Nothing he said could fix this. Because she was right. The Woodcrawlers were terrifying. Fake Beings were terrifying. And tendrils -

His face turned hot with repressed emotions. They rippled at the surface with wide open jaws.

Normally, he'd shove a rock in those jaws and kick them down to hunt later, but maybe, just this once, he could watch them. Not act. Just…watch. Morningpaw was scared of those jaws too. So, maybe…

Barleywave closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't. He placed his tail gently on his apprentice's shoulder -

He should've opened his eyes before doing that. His tail landed on her ear.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he shifted to her shoulder. But Morningpaw…laughed. It was an exasperated and humorless laugh. One that could only be made in dismay. But still. He sat there quietly, letting her cry her heart out for as long as she needed. He kept trying to find something to say, but he never did. He eventually just shifted beside her, and purred sympathetically.

Sunhigh passed into the early afternoon before Morningpaw sat up, her eyes dulled with pain and her face ragged with marks of her own paws. Barleywave brought his purr to a slow stop, tucking his tail back around his paws.

They remained silent for a while, their environment filled with the sound of wind and the occasional shuffling in the undergrowth. Barleywave had time to think, and despite it all, he had found nothing to say. Finally, after being frustrated for so long, he thought - what would Hopechase do? If she had nothing to say, what would she do to comfort a young cat?

He slowly raised his paw and prodded at her shoulder.

Morningpaw peered at him from the corner of her tired eyes.

He poked her again. The tip of Morningpaw's tail tapped the ground. Barleywave blinked slowly and padded her again.

"Don't." Morningpaw hissed weakly. Barleywave did what she asked and stopped, his paw still half-raised.

The two cats stared at each other, until Morningpaw's eyes narrowed and she let out a defeated laugh. "You look stupid."

In response, Barleywave smirked and batted his paw at her shoulder again.

"Quit it!" Morningpaw whined. She batted back at him half-heartedly.

"Oowww, oof! I've been had! Defeated!" Barleywave yelled dramatically as he flopped to the floor, his eyes flickering.

"You're not taking me seriously!"

"But I am! And yeah, it sucks." Barleywave tried to squish her face between his paws, and Morningpaw pouted as she pulled back and swiped at his face.

"It doesn't just suck, Barleywave. It's over. I'm just going to be scared forever, and - mphff!" Morningpaw ended up with her mentor's paw in her mouth, somehow. She growled and spit it out before tackling him. "Stop it!"

Barleywave had an idea.

He started poking, prodding and play fighting with his apprentice - no training, no serious skill, just pretending like she was a kit in the nursery and goading her into fighting him. Despite her verbal protests, she never ran or distanced herself from him. She always fought back. After an hour of bouncing off trees, rolling into pinecones and Morningpaw yowling at him to get back here so she could bite his stupid fur off, Barleywave watched his apprentice's expression go from despairing to bittersweet. When Morningpaw finally knocked him off his feet one last time, Barleywave heard her yowl with pyrrhic triumph.

"Stay down!"

"Grraah, Morningpaw has bested her mentor! How could this happen?"

Barleywave heard Morningpaw force a laugh. That was good enough for him. He shuffled back onto his feet and started combing through the stray pines stuck in his fur.

"Sorry. Sorry," Morningpaw finally mumbled, looking at him with guilty eyes. Barleywave purred. That was the Morningpaw he knew. He stopped, then met the young cat's gaze.

"Look, Morningpaw. You're right. I didn't have to ask, and honestly, I'm not good at the whole 'feelings' stuff. But, that's 'cause I'm scared too."

Morningpaw gave him a bewildered stare.

"Hey, don't gimme that. I'm serious. I was never good with hiding my fears. So I just kicked it down the road instead. Left it as a problem for future me." Barleywave felt himself staring at the jaws on the surface of the water. His instinct to kick a rock at it was strong - but he couldn't. This time, he had an apprentice to teach beside him. So, he taught. He could do that. He could teach. "But, it's no good to run from them. I ended up running from…lots of other feelings. If I couldn't deal with it, then I avoided it. Avoided sadness. Grief. It, uh. It sucked." His throat tightened.

"You don't have to talk about it," Morningpaw mewed hesitantly.

"Nope. But I will." Man. He really, really wanted to shove a rock in that stupid ass jaw rippling over the water. What was it, a bass? A pike? Could it mind its own business? Was he comparing his emotions to fish? Yep. Whatever it took for him to deal with it.

After a while longer, he sighed and let the feelings pass through his back. "I get it. World's a scary place. It's hard to feel like there's a chance for something better. I grew up thinking that nothing mattered. But, that's why I followed Redstar. 'Cause maybe, if we really fought hard instead of being scared, things could be different."

Morningpaw's ear twitched. She waited for him to continue.

"I won't go into too much detail, but the leader before Redstar was…scared of a lot of things. Enough to prioritize it over caring for the rest of the Clan. We didn't want to live like that anymore and…well, here we are now." Barleywave took a moment to collect himself again. "...What I'm saying is, you don't have to stop being afraid, but you do have to do stuff while you're scared sometimes. It's way easier said than done, trust me. I mean, look at me. I'm still trying to figure out how to do that. I've failed at doing that. I failed to be better for…for Warblerkit."

Morningpaw seemed surprised to hear that name, then sad. Barleywave continued quickly. "But, it starts somewhere, right? I mean, you managed to put some of your fear down for long enough to best me in single combat."

Morningpaw pouted and her tail twitched. "I wasn't fighting you for real."

"But we had fun, right?" Barleywave asked. Morningpaw hid behind her whiskers and started grooming her chest fur. Barleywave suppressed a mrrow of amusement, then continued.

"I can't…really tell you how to be brave or stay calm, or whatever. I don't have the solution to that. I think Windfur or…heck, maybe Olive might be able to help more. But if you need a distraction, I got plenty of those. If you need to feel like you're running from something, we can go for a sprint and get that out of your system. It doesn't make you brave, but it does make you feel less cornered."

Morningpaw remained quiet. The air was tense and for a moment, Barleywave wondered if he said the wrong thing. But then, Morningpaw said tersely, "I need to run."

"What, like right now?"

"Please."

"Can do," Barleywave stood up and stretched his legs. His hazel eyes flickered. "Sprint to the border and back to camp as fast as you can. Let's not stray too far from each other."

And so, Morningpaw ran, and Barleywave followed.

He thought about Hopechase, and for a brief moment, he was glad she pushed him into doing something. It was like pulling his teeth out, but he hoped Morningpaw felt a little better. Or at least knew who to go to next. That's all he could ask for.

---

Barleywave overcame a tough challenge for him, and is really excited to tell Hopechase about it. Hopechase congratulates him and bats his ear affectionately.

(Barleywave, warrior, male, 37 moons) (Hopechase, warrior, female, 90 moons)

Talonpaw has a nice conversation with Olive. Olive reassures him about something that was bothering him.

(Talonpaw, apprentice, male, 12 moons) (Olive, mediator, female, 64 moons)

Olive had recovered from giving birth, and has relaxed a bit. She recognizes the insight and personalities her two kits have, and despite her best efforts, a creeping sense of hope fills her. She plays mossball gently with Branchkit and Perchkit, who are happy and exciteable. Olive wishes she could be more optimistic like her kits are. It's hard...but she'll try her best.

(Olive, mediator, female, 64 moons) (Branchkit, kitten, female, 3 moons) (Perchkit, kitten, female, 3 moons)

<PREVIOUS | NEXT >

[blue-sadie]

Five Stages Of Feelings

Neteyam x Na'vi Reader

Summary: the decision to go looking for you was the best decision he ever made

Warning: enemies to lovers, hurt reader

3rd person pov

The village knew of the rivalry between the oldest son of jake sully and the daughter of ninat, they fought for the title of best hunter of their age group but it only ended in punishment.

"This is your fault" yn hissed bumping shoulders with neteyam as she passed him, neteyam growled and grabbed yns wrist pulling her to look at him, his tall figure looming over her.

"Its not my fault you don't know how to shut your mouth" he spat, the two were paired on a hunting trip his father thinking it would be a good 'bonding' experience but the two started bickering scaring off the pray.

"Then you should've giving me a bloody arrow" yn pulled her wrist from him harshly causing her to stumble and fall into the mud the mud splattering over her body, neteyam burst out laughing he bent over clenching his stomach trying to catch his breath.

Yn huffed and got up stumping off into the woods "your going to get us in more trouble" neteyam called after her but when she didn't to back he huffed rolling his eyes and went his own separate way back to the village.

He took a seat at the end of the village watching the trees carefully this is the way you'll be coming back and he just wants to annoy you further but when you didn't arrive at eclipse a feeling started to tug at his heart.

Worry? Guilt? No why would he feel any of those he let out a forced laugh he hates you he wouldn't care if you went missing it would actually be better for him.

He waited for a few minutes and slowly started to pace his eyes still trained towards the forest he slowly became more aggregated with himself "ah fuck it" he cursed loudly and walked into the woods.

His tracking skills helping him very much "your going to be the death of me yn" he grumbled slowly climbing over the roots that was in his path, his ears flickered as he heard it.

A whimper of pain, he crouched low to the ground slowly making his way to the sound his eyes looking around for any predators that might be lurking.

"Yn" he whispered as he caught sight of you laying on the ground his breath caught in his throat as they ran over your body noticing the blood "fuck" he muttered and jumped to your side.

His hands wavered as they hovered over you he didn't know what to do "w-what happened" he choked as he moved his gaze to your eyes his heart clenching as he saw the tears rolling down your face.

"V-viperwolfs" you grunted, neteyam quickly slid his hands under your body trying to pick you up but you cried out in pain "c-cant" you weakly pushed him away as you spoke.

He grabbed your hands holding them tightly "I have to get you back" he said his voice filled with concern but you just shook your head "n-not gonna make it" you cried making him shed a tear of his own as he shook his head.

"I'm not gonna let you die" his voice was dipping as he slowly lifted your hands to his chest "you can't die" he murmured making yn giggle which turned into a coughing fit "starting to sound like you care about me sully" you panted he nodded his head.

"I do surprisingly" he smiled sadly "is it bad I think the same" yn said making neteyam chuckle and shake his head "I think it's perfect" he whispered and leaned down connecting their lips together in a quick kiss before pulling back just leaving a inche between them.

"Neteyam" he hummed in response, yn shifted slightly taking out a fruit that was underneath her, neteyam frowned in confusion intill he saw that the fruits juice had a blood like texture he looked between the fruit and yn making her smile nervously.

"Lo'ak and kiri put me up to it but I'm glad we feel the same way" she giggled slowly sitting up he narrowed his eyes at her growling slightly.

"I'll get you back one way or another"

Tag.List

@laylasbunbunny @neteyamyawne @sweetirilly @greekgods15 @erenjaegerwifee

[sirenedeslily]

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒 ‎𐦍 𝐦atthew 𝐬turniolo

❛ i’m 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 from the 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞. ❜

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 matt thought the crash was the first tremor, the first sign that everything was unraveling. but when yn vanished, the woods grew colder, the trees twisted into shadows, and nothing—not even their love—could hide from the dark that followed.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, angst, cannibalism (not too descriptive), psychological manipulation, slight use of religious imagery, trauma, gore, morally grey characters, death, this is set in a yellowjackets-inspired universe, drawing on the show’s general premise without incorporating its specific plot.. so no spoilers of the actual series !!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭, 3k !

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬, this fic’s plots is completely me, i cannot stress it enough !! while the yellowjacket girls make an appearance, i only borrowed the general themes of the crash and the cannibalism aspect from the show. what happens here is completely separate from the actual series, so the outcomes of the yellowjacket characters do not reflect their portrayal in the show. eeeeeeeenjoy

the crash wasn’t the worst part.

not the grinding sound of the engines tearing themselves apart mid-air, not the cabin screams that split the air sharper than metal, not the sick pull of gravity as we spiraled down. not even the splintered bodies lying limp in the wreckage. that part ended. it was brutal, yes, but quick. final.

the worst part came after.

the fear swallowed us whole, silent and endless. the trees whispered things that didn’t make sense, shadows moved at the edge of sight, and the fear burrowed into our bones, becoming a part of us. hunger, though, that was louder than any scream. it started small, a tremor, an ache, and then it became everything. it clawed through every thought, every shred of hope.

“we’ll make it.” that’s what matt said. his voice had this strange certainty, like words alone could hold back the dark. we were dragging scraps of metal and wood into a crude pile that might pass as shelter. his hands were red and raw. “you’re tough, yn. you’ll survive this.”

i nodded because i didn’t want to say what we were both thinking.

hunger changes people. you don’t notice it all at once, just the little cracks forming. one day, someone takes an extra bite from their ration. the next, someone else disappears into the woods, and when they come back, their pockets are empty, but their lips are slick. we watched each other through the smoke of the fire, saw the hollows forming in each other’s cheeks, the glint of something desperate in everyone’s eyes.

i was the first.

the others would pretend it was the forest, the cold, or god himself that took me. but it wasn’t. not really. it was them—their eyes, their hunger, their hands.

i didn’t climb that tree to save myself. i climbed it for matt. his stupid lighter, the one he swore was more important to him than anything else, had gotten stuck in the branches. he said it was the last piece of home he had, the last piece of himself.

so i climbed.

the bark splintered in my palms as i climbed higher, the wind ripping at my face. i didn’t think about the branches snapping beneath me or how far i’d fall. i didn’t think about myself at all.

i thought about him.

when the branch pierced my stomach, i didn’t scream. not at first. i just stared at it—jagged, wet, too much. then i slipped, and the second branch tore through my thigh.

i held onto the lighter. i held on even when i hit the ground.

but no one came.

i lay there for hours, the blood soaking into the dirt beneath me. i tried to crawl back, but the woods stretched on endlessly. my nails scraped against the earth, my breath hitched in my throat, and the sky flickered above, like a fading light—undecided, as though it couldn’t choose whether to help or simply watch me die.

by the second day, i was too weak to move. the blood had dried, sticky and black, and the roots curled around me like they were pulling me under. i tried to pray, but my voice cracked, so i bit into the dirt instead.

god didn’t save me.

but the woods were there.

they buried me beneath the leaves, letting the branches weave themselves through my skin. they made me part of them—part of everything.

the others didn’t find me until it was too late.

i remember the way they stared.

shauna cursed under her breath, her face hard like she was trying not to care. jackie gasped, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes filling with tears she wouldn’t let fall. nat turned away, and tai kept her arms crossed, biting the inside of her cheek like she wanted to disappear.

but matt…

matt knelt beside me, his hands trembling as he picked up the lighter from where it had fallen, his thumb brushing over the bloodstains on the metal.

he didn’t cry. he just stared at me, like he was seeing me for the first time.

i don’t know how long they left me there. maybe it was days. maybe weeks. the forest swallowed time like it swallowed me, stretching it out until they couldn’t take it anymore.

they stopped looking at me like i was yn—the girl who argued with nat about firewood, who laughed too loud when jackie told bad jokes, who kissed matt behind the cabin when no one else was looking.

they started looking at me like i was something else.

lottie was the first. she whispered that i was chosen, that the forest had claimed me but left me for them. she lit candles by my body, pressed her hands to the ground like she was trying to feel my heartbeat through the earth.

the others followed.

they stopped saying my name. they started calling me a gift. a sign. a saviour.

matt didn’t say a word.

but i could feel his hands, brushing the leaves from my hair, smoothing the blood from my cheeks. i could feel how he stayed by my side even as the others began to lose themselves.

it wasn’t devotion.

it was desperation.

and when the hunger finally broke them, it wasn’t lottie who made the first cut. it wasn’t shauna, or misty, or even tai.

it was matt.

i watched him with the knife in his hand, his jaw tight, his eyes dark. he told himself it was for them, that it was for me. but i knew the truth.

it wasn’t love that drove him. it was guilt.

the air was thick with smoke and desperation. they whispered things like “it’s what she would’ve wanted.” like that made it less cruel.

they consumed me piece by piece, carving me into something i never was. i felt it all—not the pain, but the betrayal. lottie whispered prayers as she chewed. shauna didn’t say a word. nat wouldn’t look at me, her shoulders shaking as she tried to convince herself this wasn’t what it was.

it took them weeks to tear me apart.

but it would take them years to forget.

matt wouldn’t, though.

he carried me with him, in the dirt beneath his fingernails, in the whispers of the trees, in the ache that settled in his chest every time he thought of me.

they called me an angel. a prophet.

but i wasn’t.

they called me a saviour. said i saved them. turned my name into something holy, something they could cling to when the guilt crept in.

they lied to themselves because the truth was too much to bear. i wasn’t their salvation. i wasn’t their light.

i was the first.

the first meal.

the wilderness turned me into something they could use. a forest maiden wrapped in moss, silent and still, hanging like the last line of a song.

the roots, the branches, the dirt. i was the hunger that twisted them into something monstrous.

and matt?

matt would never escape me.

because no matter how much of me he consumed, no matter how much he buried me beneath his guilt, he knew the truth.

i wasn’t a gift. i wasn’t salvation.

i was betrayal.

and he loved me anyway.

i lingered in him like rot.

everytime matt closed his eyes, i was there—my body stretched out on the forest floor, blood pooling beneath me, my fingers still curled around that lighter. he could still see the wounds, the gaping holes that the branches had carved into me. and he could still hear my voice, though he told himself it was just the wind moving through the trees.

i wasn’t letting him go.

the others moved on in their way. lottie twisted the story of my death into something holy, a sign of the forest’s will. she told them i had been chosen because i was pure, because i had given myself to something greater. they needed to believe it. they needed to make my suffering mean something.

shauna didn’t believe it—not really. but she clung to it anyway, like she clung to everything that made her feel powerful. she became a shadow of herself, the dog that lottie trained to obey. shauna sharpened the knives. shauna prepared the fires. shauna made it easy for them to swallow me, to carve me into pieces until i was unrecognizable.

jackie didn’t touch me.

she stayed in the cabin most days, silent and trembling, her eyes red and swollen. i think she knew what would happen to her next. it didn’t matter that she hadn’t eaten me, that she had refused to look at me once they carried my body back. she knew the forest wouldn’t spare her.

and nat—god, nat. she carried the weight of all of it on her shoulders. she cursed herself for not finding me sooner, for not hearing my screams. she never prayed with lottie, never touched the offerings. but she wasn’t innocent. she had eaten me too. they all had.

even matt.

especially matt.

he stayed by my side, even when the others began to look at me as a thing, a relic, a resource. he refused to leave the spot where they had placed me, curling his body around mine like i could still feel his warmth. he whispered to me when no one else was listening, told me he was sorry, told me it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

but his hands betrayed him.

when they carved into me, when they pulled me apart, matt didn’t look away. he didn’t stop them. he held the knife himself, trembling but determined. i don’t know what he told himself in those moments—maybe that i would’ve wanted this, that it was a kindness, that it was survival.

but i could feel him breaking.

he tried to bury what he had done, what they had all done. but i wouldn’t let him.

i was in the dirt he walked on, in the branches that scraped against the cabin windows at night, in the silence of the forest that stretched on for miles. i was in his mind, in the flicker of the lighter he couldn’t bear to throw away, in the breath he couldn’t seem to catch every time he thought of me.

matt loved me.

but love wasn’t enough to save me.

and now, it wasn’t enough to save him.

because i was everywhere now. in every shadow, in every prayer lottie whispered, in every crackling fire that reminded them of the warmth they had once known.

i was everything they had turned me into.

and i was never leaving.

they carried me with them. not my memory, not the person i was, but what i’d turned into. they left pieces of themselves in the leaves, the dirt, the jagged roots of the forest that had consumed me. but they carried pieces of me, too—in their blood, in their bones, in their guilt.

when they walked out of the wilderness and into the arms of rescue, i stayed behind.

the world called them survivors. they painted them as heroes, as victims, as something worth saving. they didn’t know the truth. they didn’t know what they did to me, how they turned me into something i wasn’t

but matt—matt still visits me. not the real me, not the girl i was before the crash, but the idea of me that he’s convinced himself exists. he comes every year, kneeling at the polished stone that bears my name. it isn’t really my grave—just a polished stone with my name on it, a symbol for the girl you needed me to be. a hollow monument, as hollow as the promises he whispered into my dead ears.

“you saved us,” he whispers sometimes, like saying it enough times might make it true.

but i wasn’t their saviour.

i was their sacrifice.

and they had no right to me.

he brings lilies every time—delicate, white, pristine as the snow that buried jackie later, pristine as the image of me he’s built in his head. he lays them down carefully, his hands shaking as if the act itself is sacred.

i hate the lilies.

he doesn’t talk much, just sits there for hours like the weight of my name carved into stone might somehow balance the weight on his chest. Sometimes he cries, quiet and ashamed, like he knows i’m watching, like he can feel the anger twisting in the empty space i’ve become.

but other times.. most times, he’s silent. not out of peace, but out of exhaustion. he looks thinner every year, his face pale and hollow, haunted by the ghosts he doesn’t dare name aloud.

i wonder if he hears me. if he can feel the cold breath of my resentment when the wind rustles the trees or the sharp edge of my betrayal in the silence that stretches between us.

it doesn’t matter.

none of their apologies matter.

because i am not that girl in the stories they tell themselves to sleep at night.

tai, who circled like a vulture, never touching but always hungry, until she finally sank her teeth into me, reshaping me into something twisted, something unrecognizable; nat, who whispered quiet lies into my ear, feeding me fragments of myself until there was nothing left but the hollow echo of who i used to be; shauna, who sharpened the knives and prepared the fire but pretends she wasn’t the first to look at me with that kind of hunger. van, who laughed too loudly and cried too quietly and ate me anyway. misty, who smiled as she said my name, who let herself believe it was all just survival. even lottie, with her empty eyes and her false divinity, calling me something holy while she carved into me like i was already gone.

they all came at first.

in the weeks after they were found, they came with trembling hands and whispered prayers. they placed offerings at my grave—tokens of their guilt disguised as gratitude. “you saved us,” they said, over and over, as if they could rewrite what happened with repetition alone.

but then they stopped coming.

the world beyond the wilderness swallowed them whole, wrapped them in warmth and comfort until they could almost forget the cold. almost.

nat tells herself that every breath she takes is a result of my sacrifice. she thinks of me when she looks in the mirror, when the guilt weighs heavy on her chest. she pretends that my death was necessary, that it’s what kept her alive, but she knows the truth—she watched as i was consumed, and she couldn’t stop it.. didn’t stop it.

tai tells herself that what she did was survival, that it wasn’t personal. she thinks of me when she’s alone in the dark, when the night feels too quiet. she pretends that my end was just another part of the game, but the truth gnaws at her, and she can never quite forget the way she let it happen.

shauna tells herself that every joy in her life is my gift to her. she thinks of me when her daughter laughs, when the candles on the birthday cake flicker in the warm light of her kitchen. she pretends my death bought her happiness.

van dreams of me, sometimes, though she never speaks my name. she sees me in the shadows, in the dirt beneath her fingernails, in the roots that still cling to her boots when she wakes. she tastes me in the back of her throat, bitter and rotten.

misty doesn’t dream at all.

and lottie—lottie prays to me. even now, even after everything, she still believes i was chosen, that i was destined to feed the earth, to become the roots and the trees and the endless, hungering dark.

but matt—matt keeps coming back. year after year, he carries my ghost with him, dragging it behind him like a broken promise. he looks at the stone, and i wonder if he’s seeing me or the version of me he created to survive.

i wasn’t a saviour. i wasn’t a martyr. i wasn’t the girl who gave herself willingly for the sake of the group.

i was terrified. i was angry. i died clutching the edges of my own fading humanity, praying that someone, anyone, would remember me as i was, not as what they turned me into.

but the wilderness doesn’t let you stay human.

it hollows you out. it makes you a vessel for hunger, for fear, for survival. and when it’s done, it spits you back out into the world, a monster in the shape of a person.

matt isn’t a monster, not in the way the others are.

he’s worse.

he’s the one who carries the weight of all their sins. he’s the one who lets it break him, piece by piece, as if his suffering could ever be enough to absolve them.

but guilt isn’t justice.

it’s not forgiveness, and it’s not redemption. It’s just another kind of hunger, gnawing away at the edges of his soul.

i want to scream at him, shake him, make him see that his penance means nothing to me.

but he doesn’t know me either.

none of them do.

they don’t know the girl who climbed that tree because matt’s lighter was stuck at the top and he couldn’t sleep without it. they don’t know the girl who laughed too loudly, who loved too fiercely, who was afraid of the dark but never said it out loud. they don’t know the girl who screamed when the branch stabbed through her side, who crawled, bleeding and broken, through the dirt while the wilderness swallowed her whole.

they don’t know the girl who died alone, hungry, cold, choking on dirt she thought might keep her alive just a little longer.

all they know is the version of me they created.

the saint. the saviour. the pretty girl consumed by death.

you don’t know the girl i was, the girl i could’ve been if you hadn’t taken everything from me. and now, i am the trees, the roots, the forest itself. i am the thing you buried and the thing you carry, and you will never escape me.

matt, you will never know me. no matter how many lilies you bring, no matter how many hours you spend staring at that stone, whispering apologies i’ll never accept.

i am not your saviour.

i am the girl you betrayed.

and every year, when the lilies bloom and the wind whispers through the trees, I wonder if you feel it—if you hear my voice, sharp and cold as the wilderness that made us.

you don’t even know me.

and you never will.

the wilderness stripped us bare, turned us into something monstrous, something less than human. you think you carried me out of it, but i was gone long before you walked away. i’m hanging from the tree, suspended in your mind, a phantom you can’t escape.

i hope you know i loved you. even after everything, even after the lies and the hunger and the fire, i loved you. but i wasn’t your saviour. i wasn’t your salvation.

i was just a girl—a girl who loved, and in the end, that was all i was allowed to be.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ we knew this was bound to happen as the #1 yellowjacket truther.. sneaked in some jackieshauna and lottieshauna for my own personal benefit :p also i know it’s repetitive but it’s purposeful.. omg send me asks ab this plsplspls

❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @eternaldecisions @elizabebabe @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled

❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @secretlocket @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet @strnilolover @xoxo4chrisss @madifilipowiczslvt

[daizedndconfused]

first snow

a/n: hii omg i HATE finals and i haven’t been writing but then i thought ykw i need to feel some of this holiday spirit so i cooked this up instead of doing hw…hope you enjoy!! :))

characters- cole x reader (established relationship)

type- flufff

warnings- none (NOT proofread)

synopsis- winter is your favorite time of year, but the lack of snow has started to put a damper on your mood. when one day you finally wake up to snow on the ground, you and the ninja get right down to business with your holiday traditions

Ninjago Christmas was like no other. It was as simple as that.

Summers were fun, Spring okay, Fall was beautiful, but Winter. Winter held a special place in your heart.

You woke every November morning in hopes to see snow on the ground. Your boyfriend would grumble and groan as you woke up early when there was no need to peek through his curtains.

Alas, there was nothing. You’d huff and flop back down on the bed where Cole would roll over and sling an arm around your torso where your deflated mood about the lack of snow would fade away.

However, today was finally the day. After two whole days into December with no snow, you had started to lose hope.

Maybe it won't snow this year.

Finally, you let yourself sleep in on the third day of December. You slept in long enough that Cole had woken up before you.

You vaguely registered him slipping out of bed quietly and padding across the wooden floors of his room to brush his teeth. You left him to his morning routine and buried your face in the pillows that still smelled of his shampoo before attempting to fall into a deep slumber once more.

Just as you were finally about to drift off, a large hand on your shoulder was shaking you awake softly.

“What is it?” You gumbled, still half asleep.

“Look out the window,” Cole said as he leant down to place a peck on your temple.

“Hmm?” You sat up, smoothing your bed head out of your face and rubbing the sleep from your eyes before you placed your feet on the cold hard wood floors.

Eyes still blurry with sleep, you took your time stretching and standing up before moving the curtains away from Cole’s windows just an inch. That inch was all it took to fully wake you up.

A wide smile made its way to your face at the sight of the fresh blanket of what that set itself over the trees and ground surrounding the monastery.

You spun around quickly, facing a smirking Cole.

“We have to go outside,” you said. “Have to.”

“Alright,” Cole chuckled. “Just put some warm clothes on, please?”

You nodded enthusiastically before darting out of his room. Your hand was on the handle of your room when you decided you wanted to share the news with all your friends.

Even though it was a weekend, and not overly early, mostly everybody but Zane would still be in bed. Not anymore.

Skipping through the halls you banged on everyone’s doors informing them of the weather. You didn’t stop your pestering until someone on the other side of the door yelled at you.

Nya was the only one who actually opened the door with your shared enthusiasm. Only when you successfully woke everyone up did you return to your room in search of a warm jacket and pants.

When you were dressed in the appropriate attire, you found Cole in the kitchen across from Zane, sipping a cup of tea. He wore a pair of black cargo pants, and a puffer jacket above a hoodie. You watched silently form the doorway as your boyfriend doom scrolled on his phone and smiled occasionally on the screen.

“I can feel you,” Cole spoke around the rim of his mug, not looking up from his phone.

You rolled your eyes. Curse his seismic senses.

“Can’t you let me ogle in peace?” You asked as you took a seat next to him where he slid another cup of tea towards you.

Always considerate.

He shrugged his shoulders with a smirk, “Drink your tea, it’ll keep you warm.”

“Okay, Dad,” you joked.

Cole slid his gaze to you with an amused/unimpressed look.

“Morning, Zane,” you turned your attention to the Master of Ice instead as you sipped your tea. As it went down your throat, you felt every nerve and tendril grow comfortingly warm.

“Good morning,” Zane returned your greeting with a polite smile, a book in his hand. Unlike Cole, Zane wore only a white long sleeve shirt and jeans. Being the Master of Ice, and a robot, he didn’t need many winter clothes.

The three of you chatted comfortably until the rest of the team filed into the dining room, all adorning their winter gear. Though it snowed, the weather didn’t get unbearably cold–your personal favorite kind of weather.

The dining room’s volume rose steadily as everyone helped themselves to a quick breakfast.

Nya slid into the seat next to you as Cole and Kai began to bicker over who would get the last piece of bacon.

“So,” Nya said, excitement brewing in her stormy gray eyes. “What’s the plan today?”

“Well for starters, we have to keep up our tradition.”

Your friend fervently nodded in agreement.

It was a tradition among the team to have at least one snowball fight, and get into teams and see who could make the best snow sculpture. In your younger years, you started with snowmen, but as you all gradually got older and more experienced, so did your creations.

You, Lloyd, and Kai managed to make a shockingly good dragon out of snow one year.

“After that I want to go walk around the city,” you said, draining the rest of your tea. “The lights are always prettier both at night and when it’s snowing.”

“Perfect!” Nya smiled brightly, before her face hardened as Cole and Kai continued to argue back and forth.

The Master of Water reached across the table, swiped the slice of bacon, and split it into two equal halves before she handed one half to each boy.

The two stared at her stunned, before shrugging and consuming their piece in one bit.

“Children,” Nya muttered with a shake of her head.

You giggled quietly at her words.

After breakfast, you and Nya managed to wrangle the five boys out of the house and outside.

The cold nipped at your nose and you could see each puff of air coming out of your mouth.

You smiled and looked up at the soft flurry of snow still raining down from the sky.

Then, you felt a pair of warm hands reach under your jacket and come to rest on your hips. Cole’s chest pressed up against your back, hiding you from the cold as Jay spread his arms and fell backwards onto the fresh powder.

You laid your own hands atop Cole’s, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as the two of you watched as Jay and Lloyd made snow angels, and Nya laughed at the steam emanating from her brother.

Kai always produced a high natural body temperature, making the snow that came in contact with his body melt into steam faster than anyone else.

Zane, unlike the rest of you, was able to walk above the snow like he weighed nothing while your own boots sunk through the snow and onto the forest ground.

Cole placed a hot kiss on the base of your neck. “Happy?”

“Very.” You leaned further black onto your boyfriend, savoring the cloudy sky and fresh cold.

The two of you were so wrapped up in each other that you didn’t see the snowball Jay aimed at you until it was too late.

You shrieked and jumped out of Cole’s hold as a snowball hit his chest and broke apart on your clavicle, running down the inside of your jacket.

“Are you two going to cuddle all day or can we get started so I can win again?” Jay asked from his crouched position, already forming another ball.

“You’re so dead, Walker,” you smirked before scooping up a large pile of snow quickly and throwing it in his direction.

As usual–your aim was impeccable as it hid the copper haired boy straight on the top of the head.

The ninja laughed as Jay jumped up and attempted to ruffle the snow out of his hair.

After that, all hell broke loose. Usually, you’d spend the first ten minutes making an alliance, and building a wall to hide behind before you actually began the brawl. This year, you allied yourself with Cole, which you normally don’t do, but you had a plan this year.

“Okay!” Lloyd called from behind his fort with Kai. “We all know the rules, you get four lives, last person standing wins.”

“We got this,” you nodded to Cole who really had to crouch down to be completely shielded by the wall.

“We should have made this higher, this position is hurting my legs,” he winced.

You continued making a stash of ammo before muttering, “Maybe if you weren’t so damn tall.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before Cole’s fingers dug into your sides, causing you to shriek with laughter and fall onto him, the two of you now sitting in the snow behind your wall.

“Oi!” Kai yelled. “As of right now you guys aren’t dating anymore–you’re teammates!”

Cole pulled his hands away, his cheeks flushed red from both the cold and laughing at you.

You playfully glared at him and tossed a handful of snow at him in retaliation.

Peeking your head out from over your wall you yelled, “Sorry! We’re ready.”

Zane began the countdown, and suddenly snowballs were flying everywhere. They came from both your left and right.

The snowballs and sound of laughter continued, and sometimes you were laughing too hard to even throw a snowball. Especially when Nya got Kai in the face and he fell back trying to get the snowflakes out of his eye before they steamed away.

Eventually, you and Cole were both down to one life, breathing hard as Lloyd was the last one standing.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Cole whispered. “I’ll go up first, you bait him out, then you sneak from behind me and get him.”

You nodded, reaching for a snowball, your gloves thoroughly soaked and frozen, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

As expected, as soon as Cole’s black hair breached the wall, Lloyd also popped up and wound his arm back to throw a snowball at Cole.

You were quicker. Before Lloyd even had the chance to release the snow, snow was already melting on the center of his chest, and the blond boy stared at you open mouthed while the rest of your friends howled with laughter.

Cole cheered as he finally stood up to full height, chirping his friends and boasting playfully.

Your eye caught Nya’s, and the two of you shared a knowing glance before you carefully reached for the last snowball.

You wound your arm back, and threw it at your boyfriend’s back.

Cole’s words, laughter and joking came to an abrupt stop as he spun around to face you, mouth agape with disbelief.

“Only one can remain,” you smirked innocently as the boys all bent over howling, and Jay braced both his hands on your boyfriend’s shoulders.

“You traitor!” Cole gasped before lunging towards you.

You yelped and turned around as Cole chased after you. The smile never left your face as Cole chased you around a tree, your friends laughing the whole way, throwing snowballs at the two of you even if the game was over.

The seven of you calmed down in the snow, each having made a snow angel in the form of a circle before you moved onto the next activity.

You teamed yourself with Jay and Cole this year as Zane, Kai, Nya, and Lloyd were your oppositions.

Jay took charge easily, drawing a mini sketch in the snow of the structure you were going to build.

This time, the three of you were going for a sculpture of the Bounty. Afterall, the three of you knew the ship like the back of your hands. To keep it more fun, Zane threw up a wall of ice between the two teams. Each team had around three and a half hours to make the sculpture.

Lucky for you, Jay, and Cole, you only had to redo a section of the hull after a little mishap, but once the three hours were over, the ice wall came down.

Zane, Nya, Lloyd, and Kai went for a sculpture of Nya’s old Samurai X suit.

You admired their work immensely, but you still felt as if your team had one. Lloyd ran back inside to fetch Misako and the Sensei’s so they could be the deciding votes on who won.

After careful consideration, Garmadon had voted for your build, while Wu voted for the Samurai Z suit. At last, everyone’s eyes turned to Misako, as she was the deciding vote.

She pondered for a moment, eyes darting from one sculpture to the other.

At last she spoke, “Okay, I’ve decided.” She paused for suspense, and then… “I vote for the ship.”

You, Cole and Jay cheered as the rest of our team groaned. The elders laughed at your childish antics, but Misako reassured the other’s that she was also extremely impressed with their build.

Even though it was only around five in the afternoon, the sun started to go down at around three thirty during the winter.

“So who’s up to go look at some Christmas lights?” You tossed up to the group.

Everyone agreed. That’s how you ended up on the back of Cole’s dragon, flying towards the concrete jungle of Ninjago City. You and the rest of the ninja landed in a quiet alleyway right next to your favorite street that went all out with their decorations.

Stepping onto the street, hand in hand with Cole, you felt as if you stepped into a Hallmark movie. Bright twinkling lights woven from one building to the other, while storefronts had their animatronics displayed for the public, Christmas music playing softly around the whole street.

The whole street had been closed to let people walk around and admire the lights. Additionally, vendors were lined up on each side of the street selling all sorts of trinkets and yummy treats that casted a soft aroma.

You pulled Cole to one of the vendors and picked out an ornament shaped like a diamond. Cole reached into his pocket and paid for it before you even had time to blink.

He smiled down at you, and pecked the top of your head before steering you back towards the rest of your friends.

You and Cole lingered slightly behind the group, watching as Lloyd and Kai were shoving each other, trying to get the other to slip.

“Oh, pretty,” you mused, pointing at a pair of lights that were made to look like icicles, the light moving downward to add some movement to them.

The street was crowded, as you expected, but your group was only stopped a few times for pictures with fans before you continued down your peaceful walk.

Cole slung his arm around your shoulders when he saw you shiver slightly. You didn’t mind, in fact, you curled up more into his jacket, rubbing your hands together in your still slightly soggy gloves.

All too soon, the colorful street ended, and you ended up in front of the large tree decorated with bright lights and a very large golden star at the top. Ornaments the size of basketballs hung from the branches, and what looked like miles of garland wrapped itself around the tree.

When the time hit six thirty, fireworks had been set off just behind the tree. The seven of you watched the bright colors light up the sky in awe before the cold finally chilled you to your bones.

The flight back to the monastery was chilly, but clinging to your boyfriend who was always warm made it a bit more bearable.

You smiled lazily at the streets below you as you flew over them. Pressing a tired kiss the the back of Cole’s neck, the hours of being outside finally caught up with you, and your eyes slowly drifted closed.

When you awoke next, you were in Cole’s arms just outside the monastery. You shot him a tired smile, to which he returned with a kiss to your lips.

You and the rest of the ninja took your time untangling yourself from your wet clothes, tossing the outer layers in the dryer while Kai got started on making seven mugs of hot chocolate. Eventually, all you were left with was a long sleeve compression shirt, leggings, and wooly socks that had managed to stay warm throughout the day.

You and Nya collapsed in front of the roasting fire of the den as the rest of the boys soon followed suit, mugs of hot chocolate in hands.

Cole took a seat behind you on the fluffy white rug. He held out an extra mug of hot chocolate with five mini marshmallows floating on top of the warm liquid.

You shimied yourself to sit between his legs, your back to his chest as you raised your mug to your lips.

Cole’s hand covered the lop of your mug before it could come in contact with your tongue.

You shot him a confused look over your shoulder.

“It’s still hot, gorgeous,” he chuckled. “Just wait a bit so you don’t burn your tongue.”

You pouted, but complied. Burning your tongue was never fun. Finally, after everyone was seated, you indulged yourselves in a few games of Incoherent before your hot chocolate was finally safe to drink.

You hummed constantly as the rich chocolate soothed your tastebuds and cold body.

Here, in this moment, curled up with your boyfriend in front of the fire, surrounded by friends, it was in your eyes the perfect first snow day.