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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

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There Are No Wolves in the Desert

Part 2 - The Tell Tale Knife

(Oberyn Martell x f!reader)

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Summary: After the death of his paramour Oberyn seeks out a local mercenary known as the Shadow Hunter, but who he finds is more valuable than he could have imagined.

Authors notes: Thank you for all the comments, likes and reblogs! I’ve loved Robb and Oberyn since I read the books like 10 years ago now (yes my parent gave me that book when I was like 13 😂) I’m so happy to finally write down whats been in my head for years! Thank you for letting me share it with you💕💕 as per usual let me know if youd like a tag (or untag)!

Tw: Alcohol, violence, threats of sexual assault, swearing, nudity (implied), mentions of sex.

Word count: 4.5 k

Tagged: @evyiione @ayamenimthiriel @xsadderdazeforeverx @agingerindenial (if i missed anyone please let me know im the worst for tagging!!)

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3 years later

The days passed slowly while you remained tucked away, out of sight from those seeking to do you harm. A generous payment kept you safe in the attic of a local blacksmith, the promise of more ensuring you wouldn't be sold out. Once the imminent threat of assasination was over you focused on staying alive, finding the dragon queen becoming a distant memory, one that would have to wait until a more opportune moment presented itself. You used the last of your funds to purchase a horse and sought out work where you could. For a while you served as a healer to those returning from the fighting pits and other skirmishes occurring between nearby cities, until a Lannister soldier showed up searching for you. After that you moved further out of town finding work at a tavern miles from the city walls catering to a variety of characters travelling from near and far.

The owners were good folk, a retired sculptor, her wife and two young children. You’d stopped in for a drink with plans on heading further south, but an incident changed your course. A man came in threatening the owners demanding a payout when you’d stepped in, the man thought it would be easy, and it was at least for you. You helped them bury the body and they’d asked you to stay and so you did; tending to bar, training the horses and offering protection when needed. In return they offered you a bed, hot meals and a small salary despite your insistence that room and board was more than enough. It was a quiet life, a simple life, but one you enjoyed greatly. The noise of war and murder a ditant cry. Only in your sleep were you reminded of the cruelty of the world. The restful days quickly turned to weeks and it wasn't long until a year had passed, as had the memories of who you were.

The rumour of your murder had spread slowly from king landing, uttered from between the poisonous lips of Cersei Lannister, a lie you prayed one day would come back to haunt her. The day the news reached the ears of your employers you knew it was time to leave, and you rode back through the golden gates of the city. You’d resold the horse to a palace guard whose wife worked with the royal stables, training them, breeding them, caring for them, a good place for a faithful friend to live out its days. Noticing the weapons on your back the guard offered you a fee to find and kill a man who had snuck into the palace and murdered three of his wife's favourite horses after their daughter had refused his hand in marriage. He was dead within the hour, and from there the word of your skill in both tracking and murder got around amougst the nobility, and you fell haphhazourdly into mercenary work. If there was one skill you could rely on, it was your ability to unabashedly kill and you quickly became one of Dornes finest assassins. You fell into the work, the ease at which you became accustomed to it frightened you at first, but you had been hardened by loss, and it wasn't as if you hadn’t killed before.

Any semblance of emotional morality long forgotten, unable, or not wanting to have it all come seeping back, fearful of what may surface as a result. Most of your money went to keeping you fed, well rested and off any enemy radars. After the first month, money became more lucrative and you had splashed out on new armoury and weapons, nothing flashy like some of the more ornate dornish assassins who made a show of their profession. They were harmless, though admittedly annoying and from what you heard, not nearly as impressive as they boasted. Your armour was simple, lightweight leather over loose, breathable cloth, and a dark cloak, Its hood heavy and kept drawn well up over your eyes obscuring your face from prying eyes at all times. A shadow on the wall. Your weapons were similar to your clothes, your short swords and longbow were well crafted and durable, no decoration but for a few carved vines wrapped around their ends. Your only remaining identifiers were your eyes, and the dagger belonging to your late husband which stayed with you at all times, always within reach. Any remaining money was hidden away about the city, a retirement fund if you will, assuming you lived that long.

There were bonuses beside finances in your line of work, your ability to disappear into a crowd kept you in touch with the rumour mill. Words and secrets would fall from drunken mouths carelessly. Most of it stank worse than the horse's field after rain, but there were some that rang true, and a few that even brought a rare smile to your face. A young woman had spoken loudly about Tywin Lannister's death and how he’d supposedly died on the privy, causing you to snort into your soup, a fitting end for a coward of a man.

A month later you heard that the prince of Dorne had gone to King's Landing to fight for Tyrion, where he supposedly defeated a man standing well over 12 feet tall. A tall tale of a tall man you think, knowing how royal always sought to increase the truth of their abilities. You had also heard the unfortunate news of Ellaria Sands poisoning , the venom not reaching her veins until the ship had sailed out, no remedy to be found on the vaste seascape. It was a shame, she and the Sand Snakes were skilled adversaries here and they had since scattered in search of answers and allies around the seven kingdoms, to help avenge their mother. The prince apparently had to be restrained to stop him from turning the ship around, that was a story you found more believable. From what you’d heard the prince may have many lovers but he would go to war for any of them. You’d never seen his face, except for on the back of coins or from a distance. If you had you may have noticed him enter into the tavern where you sat awaiting your payment from your most recent client.

Your eyes stay on the table, your hood pulled up well over your forehead giving you a frightening silhouette beneath the candlelight that was beginning to glow more prominently as the sun set. The young man who commissioned you entered, he stank of wine and privilege, but he was rich and the payment promised was well worth putting up with his unsavoury personality. His true odor protrudes through the thin veil of perfume attempting to mask his stench, alerting you to his presence well before he’d sat down. Your time alone had heightened your tracking skills, a side effect of living under the constant threat of being hunted. The wiry man sits down next to you, his thin fingers snapping under your eyes in an attempt to get your attention, you inhale deeply, drawing yourself back to your displeasing reality and forced social interactions.

“Where's the money?” you ask, knife whittling a notch out of the table's leg with Robbs dagger.

“Where the head?” he retorts, and you pull out a small sack, shoving it into his hand watching as he pulls at the drawstring, opening the velvet bag. He raises his eyebrows and pulls out the index finger you'd removed from the corpse.

“Head was…. indisposed. I hope this satisfies,” you murmur, this job had been messier than you intended. You typically weren't so reckless especially with a noble.

“ Very much so, ” he says taking it and turning it in his hands

“The money then,” you restate, tone flat.

“Well there's one more... proposition I had.” He states, hand resting down on your thigh.

“I'll take the money for this job then you can hand me the next target,” you respond, sighing heavily, used to people getting handsy with you.

“You can make extra on this job if you play your cards right,” he whispers, hand running up your thigh. The other reaches up to pull back on your hood within seconds your dagger had impaled his hand, pining it to the table. His wail of anguish causes the heads in the tavern to turn briefly towards the scene before returning to their lively chatter.

“You stupid bitch,” he spits making a grab for the knife but you reach forward pushing it further into the table leaning in towards him.

“The money, or I cut off your head and mount it on the wall of this tavern,” you say, louder than intended.

Oberyn watches from the bar in amusement , the last time he’d seen fire like that had come from Ellaria. He needed someone to help get his revenge, someone willing to murder a man in front of witnesses, his birds had been right, this mercenary was the one for the job.

You rip the knife from the man's hand as he throws you the coinpurse you were owed you reach for it as he stands.

“Bitch,” he spits, liquid hitting the side of your face as he pulls down your hood “you better watch you back mercenary, I'll be taking you from behind in no time.” He snarls, as you hurry to pull your cover back up.

“Clever,” you retort, wiping your face, shaking out the purse and counting your pay out. Empty threats. Or threats you didn’t care about, you could kill scum like that in your sleep, and you had. You mutter another curse under your breath at being exposed, the latest delay in dye shipments had allowed the roots of your white hair to protrude through, lucky everyone inside was too drunk to notice. The money from the job was enough to keep a roof over your head for the foreseeable future, maybe even enough for a bath, it was getting to be that time. You go to stand, you had an ‘appointment’ in town, one with a handsome payout. Before you can stand you see a pair of hands adorned in jewellery slip into your view a scent of sweet fruit and honey indicating a cleanliness and a high status, a very high status, your appointment could wait.

Obery was observant, his eyes had been glued to you even while conversing with the beautiful patrons of the bar, not wanting to lose you in the crowd. “The shadow tracker”. That’s what you had been dubbed by those residing in the city according to his sources, clients of yours pleased with your services, services he was in need of. It seems you may bear more than one secret identity, it may have been for the briefest second, but the colour of your hair stood out against the dark fabric you wore. It intrigued him, white hair was uncommon in those of your age, very rare. In fact he only knew of one person still alive with such a trait. The other, one whom he’d sent a wedding gift to years prior, was long dead, or so the Lannister would have him believe, and when has he ever trusted the word of child murderers. He may have come here in seek of a mercenary, but what he found may prove to be even more valuable to his cause.

“Payments 50 for a nobody, rate goes up with each class, royals are above my paygrade, and nobles will cost you at least 6 of those fancy rings on your fingers,” you list, taking note of the martell sigil embellished on one of the larger rings.

“How much would it be to convince a wolf to take down a Lion,” he queries, hunching his head down to try and catch a glimpse of the eyes under the hood. Your heart drops.

“Above the pay grade, couple down at the docks have a death wish, you might try your luck there,” you explain, deepening your voice slightly in an attempt to disguise yourself.

“And what would be your wish, if you could have it?” he queries, leaning back kicking his feet up onto the stool beside you. As he does the yellow of his robes come into your peripheral the suns intricately stitched on, shining against the murk of the tavern's tile floor.

“To be left alone,” you chide, this was someone well acquainted with the royals here, you didn't deal with royalty, more trouble than they're worth.

“What's that old saying? The lone wolf dies, or am I mistaken? ” he returns, chuckling slightly.

“I don’t know who you think I am but I assure you…” you say, eyes finally raising, only then realizing the prince of Dorne sat before you, at least based on his impression on one of the coins in your hand.

“Lady Stark, I was hoping we’d meet face to face,” he remarks, the long forgotten address catching you off guard causing your eyes to shoot back down.

“Lady Stark died, the Lannisters ground up her body and fed it to the king's direwolf before killing it, haven’t you heard?” you say sarcastically, pulling your knife out of the table, unsure if he’d recognized it.

“Propaganda, set to diminish the power of the north,” he says, watching the blade intently as it's pulled from the table.

“I do not know if Lady Stark is alive, but for a price I could find out, granted you tell me what you need her for,” you mutter.

“I did not come here in search of Lady Stark. I came seeking a mercenary, the so-called “shadow tracker” however, this is a most welcome surprise, as for why I need you, or her, the answer is revenge plain and simple.”

“Is that what they call me?” you remark “ So you seek out a mercenary only to find something better, something you can trade?” you pose shaking your head.

“No, I needed an assassin, but found something better. Something more lethal.” He pauses.

“Which is?” you prompt, hoping to end this conversation sooner rather than later.

“One they think is dead. Besides I figured Lady Stark would want the opportunity to take down the Lannisters.”

“I assume she would, though she may think the offer stands too good to be true,” you state, gathering up your payment and making your exit he follows suit, stopping briefly to gently nudge his hand under the chin of an attractive man standing near the door, no doubt planning on returning later.

“The desert is no place for a wolf,” he calls after you, a significant distance between the two of you now.

“I shall let you know if I see such a sight, my prince,” you shout, dramatically curtsying before turning on your heel and walking off. He smiles before re-entering the tavern.

A week later

You stroll through the dark alleys of the city, a few years ago you wouldn’t have dared ventured out so late. The woods were known to you, their dangers and sights predictable, but the city was uncharted territory. While a bear could be trusted to do as bears do, the movements of man were less predictable. Your work kept you attune to the veins of the city and the people that coursed through them. You knew where to go and where to avoid depending on the day. You knew the sounds, able to pick out when something was amiss and tonight something was. The usual scurry of the rats below or the call of the parrots from above were absent, someone had been through here and not long ago. Your hand dips into the folds of your cape and you throw your dagger catching a man in the neck. You lean over and remove it from his jugular, the blood flowing out from the wound. Before you can turn him over, something hits you knocking you forward onto your stomach. You’re lifted from the ground by the nape of your neck. Your hoods pulled down and your head pulled up to see the foul smelling client and two other assassins standing before you.

“Dirron, Brant, always a pleasure” you snarl

“No hard feelings Shadow, you’re taking out all the business” Brant responds.

“How much is he paying you? Not enough I bet he didn't pay me enough. I'll double it if you let me walk.” you plead, but they shake their heads.

“I paid you more than your worth,” he spits, gesturing to the man behind you and he lifts you up slamming you into a nearby wall pressing your face against the rough brick. You can taste the blood beginning to gather in your mouth. He releases you, handing you over to the unpleasant smelling man who brings the dagger you’d dropped into your view, pressing the steel against your cheek as he begins to speak.

“This dagger belonged to Robb Stark.”

“Did it? I stole it from a client months ago,” you say, elbowing him in the stomach causing him to drop the blade. You catch it, and drive it deep into his knee. He falls, and you unsheathe his sword and throw it catching Dirron in the chest. The large brute gets to you before your next move knocking you in the stomach and pinning you back up against the wall.

“Told you I'd have you from behind,” the client says, limping over to you and spitting on the side of your face. As the moisture hits your flesh a spear pierces through his chest , pinning him to a nearby crate as the remaining two men scatter. You push yourself up spinning to see the prince standing in the alley picking up your dagger.

“Of all the souvenirs to keep, this…” he starts, examining the blade before continuing “ is the most telling. Even with your distinct traits, the Young Wolf's knife is well known, especially by those who saw it made. Dornish steel,” he explains tossing it in the air catching it by the blade and handing it back to you by its handle.

“As I just finished explaining to your dear friend there, I stole that,” you lie, taking it from him.

“No you didn’t,” he says, eyes bright even in the dark, a familiar smirk on his lips, clearly bemused by your attempts at lying.

“Yes I did,” you retort, refusing to let up on your façade.

“Shall we debate it over a drink?” he asks, retrieving his spear from the client's body which falls to the ground with an unpleasant thunk.

“A prince slumming it with the poor?” you ask watching as he uses the dead man's silks to wipe his weapon before turning back to you.

“My enjoyment of life precludes class,” he says offering you his arm

“As you speak from your riches,” you point out, watching him run his tongue along his upper lip.

“We are not as antiquated in our ideologies here, class here is less pronounced” he assures you.

“Is it?” you argue, pushing down on his extended arm and he shrugs his shoulder in defeat, pride faltering only for a fragment of a second at the notion of being rejected. The streets are busy tonight, the warm weather bringing the people out en masse to enjoy the city's nightlife. He brings his hand up to usher you into a nearby tavern by the small of your back, but thinks twice and drops it, not wanting to lose it. As you enter he raises his hand and winks at the barkeep before following you towards the back near the window sill.

“What will it cost you?” you inquire as he sits down, watching over his shoulder as the person behind the bar pours out a decanter of wine.

“What?” he asks, the downturn of his mouth and creased forehead painting a picture of confusion.

“To let me leave here, to keep this a secret, the two men who escaped know who I am now. My time here is up.” you confess as the decanter is placed on the table the bartenders hands trailing across his shoulders causing him to smile fondly up at them.

“I do not wish you to be found. It would ruin the plans I have,” he says, slowly turning his attention back to you, offering you wine. You stare at the decanter, then to him before shaking your head causing him to chuckle

“What? Have I said something amusing? “ you question, almost annoyed.

“Untrusting,” he remarks, taking a sip of the liquid before offering it to you once again. You reach over the table grabbing the cup from his hand.

“I am untrusting because in my experience people cannot be trusted,” you explain taking a sip.

“You husband certainly lied about marrying the Frey girl,” he remarks, leaning back into his seat, arms spreading out across the chairs back.

“I’ve never been married,” you state, wanting nothing more than to punch the smug look off his face.”

“You're good,” he says, eyes giving you the once over.

“At what?”

“Lying, well perhaps not good per say but committed, i'll give you that, you fight in a similar manner.” he presses, hoping to get a rise out of you.

“So, you think I can’t fight,” you say, shaking your head with a laugh

“Your words,” he states.

“I did not come here to be insulted by the likes of you, prince or not,” you scold, sitting up.

“I didn't mean to offend,” he remarks, eyes watching your movements, evidently he’d touched a nerve.

“Didn’t you?” you query, tilting your head.

“No, truly it was not my intention, I merely believe upon improvement,” he explains.

“Hard to improve without practice, hard to practice on your own,” you state, moving to leave, the prince drawing too much attention than you wanted on you. You down the rest of your wine and utter a ‘thank you for the drink’ before bidding him a farewell and exiting the bar. You don't make it far, seemingly unable to shake him.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

“That’s privileged information,” you say, turning to face him walking backwards along the cobbled streets. His eyes fall to you before looking up to the heavens, the stars were bright tonight illuminating his features. The rumours of him held true in one area undoubtedly, he was handsome.

“Come back to the palace with me.” He says, eyes still gazing up at the sky.

“I have no intention of divulging in your pleasure my prince, my heart belongs to another, I swore I wouldn’t stray from him even in death,” you reply, turning back to walk forward spitting blood out onto the street, sure one of your teeth must have been knocked out in the earlier fight.

“While I disagree with more than one of those statements I did not mean to imply, though I would be remiss to say it wouldn’t be of great honour. I heard the Young Wolf betrayed an entire kingdom for you.” he says eyes once again on you, trying to catch a glimpse of your features obscured by the hood.

“Are you suggesting I got my husband killed?” you muse, hearing him tut in disagreement

“You’re dirty, you’re tired, you’re injured and at risk of murder, the palace offers you a safe place to recuperate.”

“And what do you expect in return?” you ask.

“I simply wish to offer you a proposition once you are rested, if you decline, you are free to leave. I will ensure you are transported to a safe location where no one knows you.”

Perhaps it was the itching of your skin, or the way the dye was clinging your out of control hair or maybe it was being allowed to be who you once were, but you agree.

“This is Shana she will help you, unless you prefer a male companion, though I would gladly offer my services” he says, gesturing to an older woman of great beauty.

“I can bath myself, thank you though,” you say, turning and nodding to the woman who bows her head and exits the bathhouse.

“Whatever you wish, I'll have her bring you clothes while we clean yours... if we can clean yours” he muses, the remark cracking a smile in your icy demeanour. He leaves and you undress placing your clothes outside the door as requested. Your bare feet feel refreshed against the cool orange tiles of the bath house, the area evidently meant for the use of many people. Multicoloured tulip petals float atop the water filling your nostril with an aroma unlike one you’d ever known. The steam from the water rises in the cool air of the night and you dip your toe in water proceeding to the steps.

You stride into the water allowing your lower half to adjust to the heat before fully sinking in to cover your shoulder. Immediately the dye in your hair begins to leak into the water blending together with the built up mud and blood that has been stuck to you since your last clean. You scrub your skin until the scars scattered across your body are once again visible in the moonlight. Your hand pauses over the wound above your shoulder, memories of Robb flooding back in, as you assume your true identity for the first time in years.

You dunk your head under the water, scrubbing to remove grime from your face and to work out the last of the dye until it's all gone, your hair returned to its original state. You stay in the water for a while enjoying the heat, but sitting in your own filth is no longer a luxury and you stand up and dry yourself off. Pulling on a robe hung up for you as if they knew you’d be there that night. The cool air hits you as you exit, a welcome relief compared to the heavy heat carried around while wearing your armour. One of the palace guards leads you to your bed chamber, the bed is large and the room even larger. Tiles from floor to ceiling apart from the windows which opened up to the balcony allowing the breeze in at night. You step out onto it, hand trailing through the flowers growing along the bannisters. You thank the guard and he closes the large wooden doors leaving you to change into an orange gown true to the style in Dorne. The thin material leaves little to the imagination, but it would prove good for sleeping though not much else. You turn your head to the room's table where clothes better suited for your line of work sit. Your weapons had been cleaned and lined up across the corner of the room, your dagger shined and stabbed into the wood, holding a note in place.

“Dramatic,” you chuckle, pulling out the knife retrieving the note and opening it ‘winter is coming’ you recognize the handwriting immediately, it had been years but you'd never forgotten the letter you'd received the day at the docks. Perhaps the prince could be trusted after all. You hesitate before folding the note up and placing it back down on the table, walking over to the large bed and falling asleep with the knife tucked securely under your pillow, just in case.

#oberyn martell x you #prince oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn #oberyn x you #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x y/n #game of thrones fanfiction #There Are No Wolves in the Desert #part 2 #pedro pascal characters

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years ago

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and the void looked back to say i love you (Part Four)

A/N: oh look it’s another chapter of phil visiting kristin in the void! but what’s this? it’s wilbur soot with a steel chair! enjoy the local eldritch horror adopting a ghost boy within seconds of meeting him (see you in the reblogs!! i love seeing people’s reactions to fics!)

Warnings: death mentions, some kind of eldritch horror moments that are strangely wholesome (spooky lady near instantly gets attached to ghost boy and ghost boy is a little unnerved by that at first), mild anxiety, mild embarrassment

Masterpost

Time still passed as slow and syrupy as the void itself. Phil had built a home in a giant tree with branches that were scarred and burnt from a lightning strike, but Kristin hadn’t moved in quite yet. She wanted to live in the Overworld, to see all the things that Phil had described to her- but was a little reluctant to leave her domain. She wasn’t even completely certain that she could leave the void, and if so not for forever. Phil, of course, took all of this with unrelenting optimism and the assurance that it would all work out. On one visit, he said that he was willing to dig a tunnel down to the void from his house if it meant that Kristin would be able to be somewhat close to him. But in the meantime, he was willing to wait until Kristin was comfortable and confident enough to make a trip to the Overworld, and was more than content to continue visiting her in the void.

Kristin was interrupted by her reminiscing by an echoey scream from above. She immediately drew herself up from the void with wide eyes, and for a brief, panicked moment, she thought the scream belonged to Phil. But the owner of the scream sounded younger, almost like a child’s voice. A translucent teenager suddenly tumbled through the ceiling, screaming all the while until he landed in Kristin’s outstretched hands with a muffled thump.

“Oh! Are you alright?” Kristin asked, frowning in concern at the strange ghostly kid in her hands. A ratty blue cloak was thrown over the kid’s near skeletal form, his bright yellow sweater contrasting from his gray skin. An actual skeletal tail was curled around the teen’s wrist, like he was trying to comfort himself. The kid looked up through a mop of brown hair, pitch-black eyes flashing with green as he met her own equally dark ones.

“What the fuck?!” the kid cried, starting to shuffle backwards in her hands.

“Well that’s not an answer,” Kristin said with a laugh. The kid’s face went paler than it already was at the sound of her laugh.

“I-I’m fine. Who- Who are you, exactly?” the kid managed to stammer out.

“I’m Kristin, Queen of the Void. What’s your name?” she asked cheerfully.

“Wilbur Soot. Uh… king of accidentally phasing through bedrock, apparently,” he said, scowling up at the ceiling. Kristin laughed again, relieved to see Wilbur crack a smile in response instead of seeming nervous like before.

“I’ve never met anyone who could phase through bedrock,” Kristin commented. Wilbur’s tail uncurled from his wrist and lashed behind him excitedly.

“It’s cause I’m a ghost! Well, phantom, technically. I’m supposedly related to those screechy guys who don’t like it if you don’t sleep, but I don’t really see the resemblance,” Wilbur explained with a shrug. Kristin blinked in confusion, about to ask for clarification on the “screechy guys,” but a voice called from above before she was able to speak.

“Wil? Are you down there?” Phil called out.

“Yes! Did you know there’s a giant lady underneath your house?” Wilbur shouted back.

“Well I sure hope so, I’m his wife,” Kristin replied before Phil had a chance to answer.

“You’re his what?! Phil, you married the Queen of the Void?!” Wilbur demanded, glaring angrily at the ceiling, seemingly upset that Phil hadn’t told him about Kristin. The only answer Wilbur got was a cackle of laughter from Phil, and admittedly Kristin was a little confused. She definitely was starting to like this kid, but what puzzled her was that Phil also seemed fond of Wilbur. Where had this kid come from? And how did Phil end up getting close to him?

“Phil, how do you know Wilbur?” Kristin asked. A sigh that mostly consisted of fond laughter was heard from above.

“I’ll explain in a bit. I haven’t quite finished this tunnel yet, I’ll have to come down the long way around,” Phil said, before Kristin heard a muffled flutter of feathers, presumably meaning that Phil had flown off. Kristin looked back to Wilbur, who was still glaring angrily up at the ceiling. He brought his knees up to his chest, folding his arms over the top of them. He rested his chin on top of his arms, and his tail curled around his legs. He seemed to be pouting now, and Kristin couldn’t help but huff out a laugh of amusement.

“Can’t believe my mum is the Queen of the Void and Phil didn’t tell me,” Wilbur muttered. Kristin blinked in surprise. She didn’t recall having a son, nor did she remember Phil saying he had a son. However, Wilbur seemed to think otherwise… could he be Phil’s son? Wilbur had said something about being a ghost, maybe Wilbur was from Phil’s previous home in the islands above the void. But from what Phil had told Kristin, he had been a child when he was forced to leave his home. So how could Wilbur be Phil’s son? Besides, Wilbur didn’t seem to have wings like Phil’s. And Phil certainly didn’t have a bony tail.

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘mum?’” Kristin asked, wondering if she had misheard. Wilbur’s head popped up, eyes flashing green in alarm as his tail curled tighter around himself sheepishly.

“I uh… nevermind!” Wilbur squeaked, cheeks turning a peculiar shade of blue that Kristin realized must be his way of blushing.

“I’m back and ready to explain!” a voice cried out. Kristin looked over to see Phil swooping down to perch on her hand next to Wilbur. A few of Phil’s crows were with him, one of them landing on top of Wilbur’s head and cawing in greeting. Wilbur smiled up at the crow perched in his hair, tail slowly unwinding from around himself.

“So… I see you’ve made a friend!” Kristin said brightly. Wilbur looked sheepish again, and Phil chuckled fondly.

“I met him a little while ago. I had meant to introduce you to him once I finished the tunnel, but Wil got ahead of me. Both the tunnel, and him, were supposed to be a surprise,” Phil said, sitting next to Wilbur and playfully nudging him. Wilbur only turned a deeper shade of blue, burying his face in his arms and dislodging the crow from his hair. The crow squawked in disapproval, but gently flew back to land next to Wilbur, nudging at his leg affectionately.

“Oh, don’t embarrass him more than I already have,” Kristin admonished with a smile. Wilbur hesitantly peaked up at Kristin, while Phil tilted his head to one side in confusion.

“How have you managed that?” Phil asked.

“He referred to me as ‘mum,’ and I asked him why,” Kristin explained. To her surprise, Phil looked just as embarrassed as Wilbur.

“Ah. Well, you see- I told Wilbur that my crows call me Dadza, and he seemed to take a liking to that nickname and started calling me ‘dad’ too, and I just sort of let it happen? And I might have mentioned being married, and referred to you as ‘Mumza,’ but I realize we haven’t been married that long, but Wil’s a good kid and-”

“Phil?” Kristin interrupted with a soft smile. Phil’s mouth snapped shut and a flush came over his face.

“Yes?” he asked with a timid smile.

“I think Wilbur’s a good kid too,” she replied, looking to Wilbur with a smile. Wilbur still looked rather flustered, but he smiled brightly at Kristin. That is, until he turned to glare at Phil.

“You didn’t mention that Mumza was the void, Phil,” he said, tone starting off as accusatory but Kristin could hear the smile creeping onto his face. Phil outright cackled, stretching out his wing to wrap around Wilbur and tug him closer to ruffle his hair. Wilbur giggled, swatting away Phil’s hand but not moving an inch from being nestled at his side. Kristin’s heart fluttered fondly at the sight of them in her hands. They were an odd family- the Queen of the Void, her elytrian husband, their phantom son, and a murder of crows- but Kristin knew even then that she wouldn’t trade them for the world.

MCYT Taglist (lmk if you want to be added!): @franticfandomfanatic

#osmp #osmp fic #philza #osmp philza #mumza #void!kristin #wilbur soot #osmp wilbur #mcyt #fluff #sage writes

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years ago

Text

Flower | 29

; Hoseok x Reader

;Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Warnings: Discussions of periods and contraception

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I know it’s taking a long time for me to update this but I hope you enjoy it :D Please reblog if you do and let me know what you think my commenting on this or sending me an ask!

; Flower Masterpost

“Hey, meeps,” You hear Hoseok’s voice calling to you from the end of the aisle, his new nickname for you now gaining its own nickname as well. “If sunflower oil is made from sunflowers, and coconut oil is made from coconuts...then baby oil…”

He trails off, raising his eyebrows and giving you a scandalous look as he holds up a bottle of baby oil. For a moment, you just stare at him blankly before sighing and rolling your eyes in amusement. Taking the bottle from him, you place it back down onto the shelf before linking your arm through his.

Thankfully, he lets you direct him back to the little section they have in this makeup and skincare store that’s fully dedicated to Korean beauty. This is one of those strange stores where they have tons of products that are basically on sale yet also have branded stuff alongside it. Not that you cared though; it had the Korean brands you swore by for your skin and you were more than tempted to try out the Japanese beauty stand next to it.

For someone who isn’t particularly bothered about the whole concept of skincare, though you had managed to convince him to at least improve his routine, Hoseok was being a pretty good boyfriend right now. He hadn’t complained about the half an hour you’d spent perusing the makeup to find new stuff to put into your collection and he still wasn’t complaining as you filled your basket with face masks.

If anything, he’d managed to entertain himself quite well.

But you think he was being good purely because you’d gone with him to a concert last night. It had been for one of his favourite bands, Metallica, and he’d ended up with a spare ticket as Jungkook had ended up ill with food poisoning. He had been about to go on his own, but you hadn’t liked the thought of him being lonely so you’d gone with him.

You’d recognised some of the songs they’d played from whenever Hoseok played them in the car or the house but it hadn’t been your scene. Still, it had been fun enough and you’d more than enjoyed seeing Hoseok happy as he’d rocked out to his beloved band.

It did mean that you were exceptionally tired today though as the two of you hadn’t gotten home from the stadium they’d performed in until after 2 am. That had been the closest performance apparently and you’d been shattered, sleeping until well after 11 am. Hoseok had promised you a day of relaxation, which you’d jumped on by asking him to do a full Korean skincare routine with you tonight.

He’d agreed, and you’d eagerly dragged him out to this store to replenish your supplies. The makeup was just because it was there and you couldn’t resist it. Already you were coming up with ideas for looks in your head that you could create and then put onto your Instagram. Moving places had meant that you hadn’t done many looks lately and you were eager to change that.

Especially now that you had a yard to take nice photos in. Hoseok and you had both been working hard on the weekends and evenings to transform the yard from the overgrown mess it had been into something nice. Nothing too amazing or expensive as it wasn’t your own house but nice enough that it made from some pretty aesthetic photos.

Placing a final bottle of moisturiser in your basket, you smile at Hoseok and hold it up proudly. He just looks at you in amusement for a second before smiling back.

“All done! We can go to pay now.” While you pay for all your new stuff, he goes and waits outside for you. Which you discover means he intently window shops at the video game store, getting that look on his face when he wants to do something.

Feeling that your bladder is a little too full right now, you glance over to where the public restrooms are and move over to Hoseok. “You can go in if you want, I’m going to the restroom so I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He takes your bag for you like the gentleman he is before disappearing inside, immediately making a beeline for the Playstation 4 section. You have a feeling he might be about to drop some money given how interested he’d been in some of the new games that have been released in the last few months.

Any thoughts of games are wiped from your mind very quickly though when you’re on the toilet. The sight of red staining your underwear has your eyes widening in horror as you realise that your period has decided to make an early appearance. For a moment you simply stare, brow creasing before you reach for your bag and grab your phone.

The period app you use says that you shouldn’t have started for another four days and you curse your body for doing whatever it likes. Scowling at the stain, you attempt to clean it before sighing in defeat, acknowledging that at least you were wearing black jeans today.

Another rummage in your bag causes you to find another problem, this one sending ice water running through your veins. Grabbing it and placing it onto your knees, you visually scan through every space and almost pull out the entire contents before letting out a small sound of despair.

You had no tampons.

Cursing to yourself quietly, you finish up and make do with an almost ridiculously large amount of toilet paper. Rushing out, you wash your hands before moving over to the machine that always had condoms, sanitary pads and tampons.

Only to see the ‘sold out’ sign on both the buttons you need. Groaning quietly, you do a little dance of frustration as you realise there are not even any other women in the restroom for you to ask. Not that you would. As if your social anxiety would allow for that!

So instead you have to slink outside and into the game shop, lip jutting out in a slight pout as you become hyper-aware of yourself. Can other people smell the blood? What if you leak through all the toilet paper and it does somehow show through your jeans?! What if you leak through onto a chair!

Hoseok wanted to get something to eat after this and you were dreading having to sit there for ages. Playing with your fingers nervously, you move over to where he’s crouched in front of the PS4 stand. He already has two game cases in his hand and is reading the back of another one, your bag of goodies on the floor between his feet.

Glancing up at you, he grins brightly before showing the cover of one of the cases he’s got.

“Look! The Spider-Man game is on sale! You want to play this, right?” Absentmindedly, you nod. The back of your mind takes in the fact that he’s also got Divinity: Original Sin 2 in his ‘buy’ hand and the other case he’s considering is the Doom remake. You wish that you could let him browse more but the drug store wasn’t close by and you didn’t want to just abandon him suddenly.

Still, the thought of what was going on down below was overwhelming and you found yourself shaking his shoulder slightly.

“Hey, are you done? Can we go?” Reaching down, you take your bag back and stand back as he rises, the crease between his brows letting you know he’s a little confused as to why you’re suddenly rushing him. He knows full well that there’s nothing important you need to do.

Still, though, he doesn’t question it and instead nods slowly. While he goes and pays for the games he’s buying, you go to wait by the entrance. Wrapping your arms around your waist, you realise that the low ache in your back that you’d had for a day or so was one of those early symptoms you got of your period.

Only you hadn’t thought anything about it. Not when you’d spent a few hours last night stood up. You’d just thought it was because you’d done a lot of work in the yard combined with the concert. Apparently not.

You’re pretty much already walking in the direction of the drug store by the time Hoseok comes out, causing him to have to jog to catch up with you. All you can think about is whether or not walking faster or slower would make things worse.

“Woah, hey, where are we going?” Hoseok asks, matching his speed to yours. You’re just thankful that there are not too many people out shopping today because it would only increase your stress levels if there was a big queue that you had to wait in or something.

“Just, to this store.” Admittedly, you’re not being very open and honest right now. But you’re embarrassed. Hoseok is fully aware of your periods and that they’re very much a thing that happens. They’d become a little more irregular recently as you’d had a copper IUD put in around a month before moving in with him.

Nothing drastic or anything, but then again they were also sometimes longer and a little heavier than you were used to when you were on the pill. It wasn’t exactly something you enjoyed talking about with anyone though; Soyeon and Chungha were pretty open about this kind of stuff but you had always mostly stayed quiet whenever they talked about it.

Which was silly. They were women who fully understood what you were going through and Hoseok understood that it was a monthly event. So it wasn’t like he’d be shocked to find out or anything. If anything, you’d probably done a bit of a bad job in explaining some things to him as you’d always got too shy whenever he’d asked things.

That was bad, you were well aware. But you’d only really got comfortable talking about sexual things with him. You knew that there were guys who thought it was gross that women bled for a week or so. Hoseok had never made those kinds of comments, but still. You were a work in progress.

“We’ve already been in here, why are you dragging me like Jason Voorhees is running after us with a knife?” He whines when you enter the store. You’re not surprised he’s confused because he’s right, you had come in here earlier and picked up what you needed. Still, though, he follows close by.

“I thought we didn’t need anything else.” Comes from him next, his lip pouting and you get the sense that he wanted to spend more time in the game store. A rush of guilt and shame washes over you, causing you to grip his hand even tighter as you shuffle awkwardly in place for a moment.

Finally in the store though, you realise just how silly you’re being with him. It’s not like he’s going to get outraged or upset. And you’re sure he’d have been much more willing to come along if he hadn’t been dragged along half the street with no idea what was happening.

Leaning into him, you cough slightly before swallowing as you feel yourself go hot with anxiety.

“My period started.” You whisper, keeping the words quiet enough so that he can hear them without having anyone else overhear. Though the rational part of your mind knew that you shouldn’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thought. It was a natural, bodily function and all that.

Your mind has never quite done things rationally though.

Hoseok has heard you though, you can tell by the way his head tilts to the side ever so slightly. But his expression is blank for a moment before his brow creases in obvious confusion, lips pursing as he contemplates what you’ve just told him.

“Okay...so why are we here?” Annnnd there it is. That famed male obliviousness to female problems. You couldn’t get annoyed at him though, not when he was good with you on everything else. He was cute.

“It’s early? And I have nothing to use. So I need to buy some.” His face changes immediately when he understands finally, mouth curving into an ‘o’ shape as he lets out a noise of recognition. It then contorts into worry for you, his eyes glancing down to your crotch area with wide eyes.

“Wait, so that means you’re...just…” He creates a rushing gesture with his hands, imitating a waterfall as he makes a ‘whoosh’ noise with his mouth. It’s a little too loud for your liking and you hiss at him, poking at his stomach before quickly pulling him over to the menstrual health aisle.

“I’ve used some toilet paper but it probably won’t last. It’s come on pretty hard and fast today. Please don’t laugh.” You beg him and his face sobers immediately, eyes darting over your own as he takes in your distressed appearance. Licking at his lips, he inhales deeply before nodding.

“Okay, you use tampons, right? So like...which ones? You never keep the box.” Automatically he starts to look over all the boxes of tampons; staring at the brands, types and absorption levels like he’s reading signs in Mandarin or something. It makes you want to laugh, despite the situation.

You appreciate his eagerness to help though, even when he points at random boxes with absolutely zero knowledge of what it was.

“What’s the difference in the brands? Is there a difference? Or is it like...when you buy those store brand biscuits and realise they taste the same as the branded biscuits only to find out that they’re made in the same factory and just relabelled?” That makes you snort with amusement, particularly as he’s now holding up a box of Tampax and a store brand to try and see the difference.

He’s not finished yet though, and even though you still feel the urgency to just grab some and run, you can’t help but let him entertain you. Because that’s what he’s doing. You’re not oblivious, you’ve realised over time that if you’re feeling anxious or uncomfortable or shy, Hoseok will often use humour to distract you away from your negativity.

It’s nice, which is why you let him carry on for a minute or so more.

“What are the drops for? And what’s the difference between regular and super? I mean, I think you’re pretty super but is this like...super big or something? Wait, is this plastic?! How does it absorb blood if it’s plastic?” Rolling your eyes at him, you bite your lip to stop the laughter that wants to escape before reaching past him to grab the box you usually buy.

Lifting it, you decide for a quick crash course in tampons. As your boyfriend, you never know when you might need him to run out to the store for some and the last thing you need is him bringing the entirely wrong type back.

“I use Tampax, purely cos it’s just the brand I’ve always used and I’m familiar with it. Super and regular are like the absorption so you’d use a super for the first few days when a period is heaviest. Hence why I’m getting these. The drops are the absorption rating too basically and it’s not plastic, that’s just the applicator that makes it easier to insert.” You say it all pretty quickly, but quietly enough that only he hears.

Not that there’s any need, the store is loud enough that your conversation can’t be overheard and on top of that, there’s no one in this aisle anyway. But Hoseok nods thoughtfully, scanning the front of the box carefully.

“When we get home, I think I need a crash course in periods because I’m feeling pretty useless and dumb right now.” Laughing, you lean up to kiss his cheek quickly before heading in the direction of the cashiers.

“We can do that for you. It’s better to be educated after all. This is where I find out that you have this bizarre knowledge that is unbelievably wrong and I cringe.” Hoseok doesn’t answer back to that, causing you to look back and chuckle at his meek shrug and wince.

“What can I say? I’ve never had a girlfriend long enough to learn and education in high school was terrible. I’m not even gonna try to defend myself.” Humming lightly, you grin at him as you pay before heading out of the store. Looking in the direction of the toilets, you twist your lips as you consider your options.

“You want to eat at that place, right?” You ask, nodding your head towards the Japanese place that was down the opposite end of the street. Hoseok looks that way and nods, confirming his desire to you. Already you can feel your stomach rumble as you imagine the delicious food.

“Okay, we’ll just go there and I’ll go straight to the restroom in there. Come on.” Reaching you, you take his hand and smile up at him, your walk not so hurried now compared to before. Not that you aren’t completely aware of the fact that you’re free bleeding from your vagina right now, but walking faster might just aggravate it more.

You had what you needed, so now you could relax a little more.

“Why are there so many steps in this? Don’t you get bored?” Hoseok mumbles, his words a little slurred due to the fact you’re rubbing serum into his cheeks. He’s already been here for ages in the bathroom as you’d used a cleanser to clean his face before exfoliating and then using toner on some cotton pads.

You could tell that he was amused by the whole situation, even though he’d seen you do this many times before. But it was different experiencing it for himself you supposed. Still, he looked so adorable and you cooed to him, squishing his cheeks even more in amusement.

“No. It’s relaxing. You’re supposed to relax.” That makes him scowl, the expression not nearly as intense as he was going for given you’ve got his lips in the cutest pout. Still, you’re finished with that part so you let him go, laughing as he runs his fingers over his skin.

“I’m not relaxed. More...manhandled.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes as you get to work rubbing the serum you need into your skin, focusing on your eyes. The dark circles beneath them were far too...well dark for your liking.

“Okay, how’s your skin lately? Dry? Oily?” Frowning at you, he twists his lips as he considers your question. He’s been taking better care of his skin than he had been before dating you, but you knew that he still didn’t care that much. Surprisingly though, he has an answer for you.

“Dry?” Nodding to yourself, you reach through your box of face masks and pull out a moisturising one. Handing it over to him, you take your own and rip it open, pulling out the mask and carefully putting it on. Hoseok watches you intently before opening up his mask, his face immediately twisting into a cringe.

“Ewwww, oh my god. Why is it so slimy?!” He whines, holding it over the sink like it’s some monster that might kill him. With the mask on your face, you can’t laugh properly like you want to.

“Stop being a baby and put it on.” With a little more whining, he does so, lining it up and putting it onto his face. What follows is then complaints that it’s also cold and feels weird, causing you to roll your eyes at him once more as you help to smooth out any creases in it.

“Right, we’ve got to keep this on for twenty minutes so let’s go watch some Netflix,” Looking over him, you take in how he still manages to look handsome even with a white sheet mask on. “It’s not fair that you always look so good. Honestly.”

Hoseok just shrugs before licking his lips, his reaction immediate as he registers the foul taste. “Oh fuck me, what the fuck. This tastes fucking vile!”

“...you’re not meant to eat it, babe, they don’t make it for the taste.” He washes his hands in the sink to get rid of the remaining residue before following you out to the couch in the living room, Netflix still paused on the large television screen. Kasumi is curled up on her cat tree, fluffy body small as she sleeps quietly.

For around ten minutes, neither of you speak as you continue to watch Warrior Nun. It’s surprisingly got both your attention hooked, so you’re a little surprised when Hoseok suddenly speaks up and distracts you.

“Hey...I know this is a weird time to talk about this but after your whole period thing today it reminded me. So, I’ve been thinking lately. You definitely don’t want kids...right?” He looks at you and you get the impression he would raise his brow if he could. When you nod in response, he blows out a breath slowly.

“Okay...how would you feel if I said I wanted to get a vasectomy? I mean, I know you’ve said you don’t want kids but there’s always a chance that you might and a vasectomy is pretty final. Despite what people say.” Now it’s your for your expression to be mostly hidden by your face mask, your eyes widening until your eyelashes are uncomfortably touching the edges of the holes.

“You want that? I thought guys normally got all weirded out at that prospect. And I don’t want kids, ever. Full stop. Are you sure?” Of all the things you were going to be discussing tonight, you did not expect it to be this. It’s almost amusing that Hoseok has decided right now is the time for something so serious, when you both look so silly.

“I do. I just...I don’t want to risk a pregnancy and I know you’re scared of that too. Also, it’d put less stress on you, I know most birth control is usually aimed at women except for condoms and it’s a lot easier for me to get a vasectomy than for you to get anything done.” That makes you snort in acknowledgement, shifting on the couch until you pull your leg up and wrap your arms around it.

“Yeah, because god forbid a woman not want to fulfil her natural duty and pop out a kid, right?”

“I’ve been looking into it, I’m pretty sure I could get one. If not, I’ll just talk the doctor’s ear off until they let me. Because it’s gonna happen. It’s way easier and less stressful than anything you have to do.” His dual concern for not wanting to cause an accidental pregnancy that neither of you wanted along with not wanting the burden to fall too heavily on you warms you, causing you to reach out and grasp his hand tightly as you squeeze at it.

“Is it easy? Or quick?”

“Apparently. Some guys say it doesn’t hurt at all, others said it hurts. But...I’m pretty sure I want it. I just wanted to check with you that you’d be okay with the idea too. As I said, it’s final.” Hoseok smiles at you as best he can, causing you to shuffle a little closer to him. You’d like to rest your head against his shoulder but you’d just get it covered in face mask gunk.

“I mean, it’s your body. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.” Pointing this out to him, you look up and tilt your head, your statement almost a question.

It makes him sigh and focus on your hands, shifting them until he could interlink his fingers with your own. You let him do so, figuring he should probably be taking the lead in this conversation. It is about him after all.

“We’re in a relationship. A serious relationship and this decision would affect both of us. It’s cutting off the chance for biological kids, despite people saying you might be able to reverse it. I feel you should have a say too.” Nodding slowly, you hum lightly as you consider his words carefully.

“Well, if you want it then I’ll support you completely. I never want children so you don’t have to worry about that. It’s your decision, but I just want to make sure you think it over properly and do research, okay? Don’t go rushing into it.” That makes him snort in amusement.

“Meeps, if there’s one thing you should know by now; it’s that men do not take decisions regarding their dick and balls lightly. You can be damn sure I’m going to be 100% in my decision if I’m going to let someone come near my balls with a scalpel or somet.” The way he says this is so matter of fact that you can’t help but laugh, the sound not as big or bright as you’d like it to be given you still had your mask on.

“Man, I can’t believe I’m talking about someone knifing my balls while I’m sitting here looking like a dollar store Michael Myers.” Hoseok points at himself, his bemusement clearly obvious despite his poor Halloween costume and you giggle softly.

Reaching out, you run your fingers through his hair that’s currently being held back by a bandana and smile at him softly. “Come on, let’s go get these off and start looking human again.”

Hoseok follows you immediately, already peeling the face mask off and making casual comments about how the mask isn’t as slimy as it had once been. You take off your own and drop it into the small bin in the bathroom, making sure that he does the same.

“Okay, rub it in and pat it dry. Make sure you get the excess to go on your throat and stuff, it’s good for your skin there too.” Hoseok looks in the mirror, his face shining obscenely from the residue leftover and grimaces.

“Ew, this feels...gross,” One hand presses to his skin, rubbing it in and cringing. “Is this what it feels like when I cum on your face?”

The comment is so random that you pause for a moment, all thoughts disappearing as you comprehend what he’s just said. A glance at him makes you realise he’s being completely serious, his expression focused on rubbing his face as you’d told him. It’s moments like this that make you love him even more, the blasé comments he makes that are so funny and yet also x-rated.

“No...not really. That’s more...well it’s not all over, you know? And it’s thicker than this. And I don’t know why I’m explaining this to you. You know what your cum feels like.” A snort from him gives away his bemusement.

“Yeah, but I’ve never smeared it all over my face before.”

“Maybe you should. Experience it for yourself for once. It’s not all that good for you by the way, despite what people say. It has protein but it’s not enough to make it worthwhile or anything, so don’t think I’m going to be asking you for your special facials anytime soon.” Looking away from him, you grab the next item on your routine before looking at him with a smirk.

“Damn, there goes my plan to be self-sufficient. Could’ve made a whole organic spa thing out of it.”

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wanderinginksplot · 4 years ago

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Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 01187: Lux Bonteri

"...and if you roll them at the right speed, they'll slip through the shields and explode next to the droid itself, disabling the guns and allowing you to pass," General Skywalker finished, glancing around the group of rebels to check for their understanding.

Kix eyed the assorted group as well. When he had been tapped to join the Jedi and the captain on a trip to help an underground resistance movement train to fight the Separatists, he hadn't been impressed at the idea. After finding out that one of the leaders - a kid named Bonteri - had a past with Commander Tano, he was even less thrilled to be there.

Admittedly, he had been surprised by the group. The fighters were minimally trained, but in decent shape, medically-speaking. Kix had expected to find festering injuries and critical malnourishment. Instead, he found mild dehydration and an honest, stars-blessed splinter.

A splinter.

This resistance group may have been better-organized than others the 501st had run into in the past, but they weren't exactly what Kix would have expected from a rough-and-tumble encampment in the woods.

Saw Gerrera would be trouble. Kix had known it the first time he interacted with the young man, and he could tell that Rex thought the same. Saw was passionate and angry, traits that would not help him against the Seppies. In fact, they were more likely to get him killed, along with every other member of the encampment… including Saw's sister Steela.

In contrast, Steela Gerrera was promising. She was a perfect counterpart to her emotion-driven brother and would make a good leader for the small group - a larger group, even, later on. She was level-headed and practical, eager to learn and wise beyond her years. Kix and Rex had both been impressed by the young woman, as had the Jedi. Well, two of the Jedi. The final member of their party had been too busy worrying about Steela's major weakness.

Lux Bonteri.

Kix didn't get it. He was no expert in what teenage girls found attractive, but it seemed like a bit much for both Steela Gerrera and Commander Tano to be fascinated by the boy. Admittedly, it seemed like the attention was almost a bit much for Lux, too. Still, he appeared to enjoy the idea that two females were so interested in him and did what he could to juggle their feelings. One minute, he would flirt shamelessly with Steela, who seemed to welcome his efforts. The next, however, he would stand far too close to Commander Tano and murmur things that her sensitive montrals could easily have heard from a far greater distance. The boy was honestly lucky that some of the more... overprotective members of the 501st had not come along to Onderon, or Kix would have had some real injuries to treat.

Despite his own confusion and disgust, the situation was entertaining enough, though Kix was at least tactful enough to avoid talking about it around the Commander. She seemed displeased by the way things were going and he couldn't blame her. He was displeased, too. Kix was of the opinion that the GAR and three of its best Jedi had more important things to do than babysit a fledgling grassroots rebellion, and a teenage love triangle did nothing to improve the situation.

"Ouch!"

It was the call to action for medics everywhere, and Kix was no exception. In a moment, he had grabbed his medic's bag and went to find the source of the pained sound. It turned out to be none other than Lux Bonteri, who had managed to deeply scratch his forearm while trying to roll a dummy det through the droideka's shield.

The kid had pressed a hand against the scratch, holding back the blood that was trying to seep from the small wound. Other members of the rebel band clustered around, asking nonsensical questions and generally being in the way. Steela and Commander Tano seemed the most concerned, but Kix definitely saw General Skywalker roll his eyes.

"All right, folks, please move so I can treat him," Kix said impatiently.

"Will he be okay?" Steela asked.

Kix snorted. "He has a scratch on the arm. Yeah, he'll be good to go in about three minutes, if you can clear the crowd."

Steela nodded, raising her voice. "Back to training, everyone! Lux is going to be fine."

With a jerk of his head, Kix indicated for Lux to follow him to a more secluded area, a short distance away from the crowd. From what he had seen so far, the small group of rebels needed all the practice they could manage. Bonteri followed willingly enough, sitting on a fallen tree trunk and extending the arm so that Kix could clearly see the injury.

It was a long cut, deeper than Kix would have expected, but still nowhere close to anything vital. The real danger was infection, especially in a forest, running around in unsanitary conditions, and this far from medical care. It would have to be cleaned, medication applied, and the wound wrapped before Bonteri could keep training with the other members of the rebel force.

"Don't worry, kid," he soothed automatically. "We'll have you patched up and back in action in no time."

"I'm not a kid," Lux told him haughtily. When Kix didn't bother responding, he sighed. "Do you think Ahsoka saw that?"

"I'm sure she did," Kix said evenly. "She was standing a foot and a half away from you and has full use of her sight."

Lux groaned. "Fantastic."

Kix shook his head, mostly to hide a smirk. "What does it matter what Commander Tano saw or didn't see?"

"Please," Lux scoffed. "You have full use of your sight too, correct?"

"I don't know what you're implying, Bonteri," Kix said, not liking the boy's tone. Before Bonteri could unleash another half-insulting comment, Kix added sharply, "And if you're saying what I think you are, I'll remind you that she's my commanding officer and I have no problem letting this scrape heal the old-fashioned way."

"It's just…" Lux trailed off, suddenly looking younger than ever. "She's so beautiful, and strong, and brave. I want her to think well of me."

"I'm sure she does," Kix said, trying to sound encouraging. Kriff, he didn't remember being this young.

"She doesn't think well enough to care for me," Lux said, reminding Kix of a pouting child. "Not the way I do for her."

Kix laughed before he could stop himself. "She's a Jedi. She took vows not to care for anyone, not the way you're talking about."

"And I took vows to uphold the Separatist cause," Lux countered. "I left them behind after I learned new information."

This time, Kix laughed on purpose. "You think attraction is new information? Kid, sex has been around longer than any of us. That's why we are around - at least, those of us who weren't born in a tube."

Lux didn't find that nearly as funny as Kix did, so the medic filed it away as something he should tell his vode and moved on. "Ahsoka knew attraction and temptation would be part of her life, but she thinks the good she does as a Jedi is more important than her own feelings."

"Has she spoken with you about this?" Lux asked, looking floored by the possibility that Commander Tano wouldn't change the entire course of her life for sake of a crush.

Kix sighed. He definitely had never been this young. "No, but she doesn't have to. You can see her dedication in everything she does."

"You can," Lux agreed, looking past Kix with a slight smile on his face. Kix turned to see Commander Tano juggling a handful of dummy thermal dets to amuse Saw, using the Force to launch them high into the air before letting them drop into her waiting hands. General Skywalker and Captain Rex watched the process with patronizing amusement while General Kenobi was thankfully occupied in another section of the camp. Kix was only surprised that General Skywalker wasn't taking part in the theatrics.

"I've heard Jedi can have physical relationships," Lux said slowly. "They just can't get attached."

"Done a lot of research into Jedi relationships, have you?" Kix asked acidly, then shook his head. "I'm not about to tell you - or my commanding officer - what you can and can't do, but Commander Tano isn't the type who can easily separate emotions from actions. By pushing this - by pushing her - all you're doing is making her choices more difficult. Remember that when you decide how to act with her from here on out."

"I understand," Lux agreed. From the solemn look in his eyes, Kix actually believed that he did.

"Good," he said with a sharp nod, patting the neatly-wrapped bandage on Lux's forearm. "You're good to go. Keep it clean and dry as long as you can manage. With any luck, I think you'll be able to keep the arm."

"Thank you, Kix," Lux said, giving a deep nod. "For all of it."

"No problem, kid. Try putting a bit of spin on the thermal det next time. That can help it get through the rollie's shields."

Bonteri walked back toward the group as Kix packed the unused supplies back up so he could be ready for the next medical crisis. There would definitely be one before they left, especially if the captain or either of the generals had heard much of the conversation between Kix and his patient.

---

A/N - sorry for the tiny gif! I couldn’t find a larger version, but I think this one really summarized Lux and Ahsoka’s friendship. Thank you for reading! Please feel free to reblog so my work can spread!

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orwocolor · 4 years ago

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Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Gwilym shows up in your bookstore to apologise but there still might be more obstacles on your way to happiness.

Author’s Note: And another sprinkle of angst so that chapter six doesn’t feel so lonely. Only one more chapter and an epilogue remain, so keep an eye out for those! Comments and reblogs are always very appreciated :) Check my masterlist to read the previous chapters. Dedicated to my sweetie @justgwilym.

Dragging your feet, you crash on your sofa, a floral pattern of one of the walls spinning around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, but as you lose the point of focus, you sense a rise of, so far, the most powerful wave of nausea. You fight the feeling and instead fix your gaze on one of the paintings decorating the living room.

Breathe in.

And breathe out.

You should not have drunk that much. But Jane and Charlotte were unstoppable and admittedly, you needed it. After a couple of drinks, you actually started having fun. Daniel turned out to be a very pleasant companion with a taste for slightly dry humour that, partially due to your inebriated state, made you burst in laughter multiple times during the party.

Oh god, you are going to hate yourself so much tomorrow.

Once it seems the whole world will not tilt again and toss you on your side, you brave a few steps into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. Gulping it down, you can already feel its beneficial effects, which are further enhanced when you press the cold glass against your forehead. You serve yourself another drink and with each sip, you begin to trust your legs again.

You release a content sigh as a soft breeze and smell of rain touch your cheeks when you open the windows; it truly does a world of good. Grabbing yourself two slices of toast bread, you settle onto the sofa, open your laptop and click on a random video for you to watch while you wait to get better before you go to bed. If you lay down right now, you’re sure you would throw up.

With an occasional chuckle leaving your lips as you listen rather than watch a stand-up show, you almost miss a soft, hesitant knock on your door. Almost. Your fingers hover above the keyboard as you contemplate pausing the video. If you press the space key right now, there will be no doubt you’ve heard the knocking.

Slowly retracting your hand back to your side, you let the comedian continue in her sketch and you just wait. It probably takes only a minute, but for you, it’s an eternity before you can hear Gwil shut the door to his flat behind him.

You release a breath you have not realised you were holding and hide your face in your palms.

You are not in a state to face him right now. You need some time. And most importantly, you need to put some space between you, otherwise you’re going to care way too much, and you are not in the position of allowing yourself feelings of that sort.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll be back in a minute, just let me attend to this young lady,” you throw behind your shoulder as you rush to the cash desk and leave a customer in the historical section.

“Maybe I can be of service,” Mr Dean appears next to the customer’s shoulder, who jumps a bit, not expecting someone else, and you send a grateful glance to your friend. You knew you could count on him. Whenever he’s in a good mood, he loves to entertain people in the bookshop and no matter the topic or genre they’re looking for, he turns into an expert, gladly offering recommendations.

You hide a smile when you notice Mr Dean’s eyes sparkling as the man mentions the French revolution and he starts guiding him to the needed section.

“Here you go,” you hand the young woman her bag and say your goodbyes, a shrilling sound of chimes hanging at the entrance door announcing her departure.

While you bend down and disappear behind the till to throw away the receipt the woman didn’t want, the chimes sound again, and you emerge from behind the cash desk.

No.

He’s there, right in front of you, the surprise written in his face matching yours.

“Hello,” Gwil says softly and for a split of a second, you forget to breathe.

You’ve managed to avoid him the whole weekend by some miracle, although, admittedly, on one occasion, when you were forced out of your flat to do grocery shopping, you spotted him at the entrance door when you made a turn to your street. At that moment, you remembered you wanted to check something on your phone, and after fiddling with it long enough for Gwil to get home, you plucked up the courage to do the same.

You assured yourself you just needed some time and space and by the time you would meet him, you would have known what to tell him.

Well, your past self can go screw herself because here you are with your tongue tied.

“Hi, Y/N!” Ben is on Gwil’s tail and greets you cheerfully, his hand raised in a wave.

“Hi,” you manage to blurt out, quite happy with yourself for not butchering the single syllable. It’s all about little victories, right?

“So, uh, I’ll go check some books I guess,” Ben breaks the silence when neither you nor Gwil seems to do so, and scurries farther into the store.

“I am so, so sorry, Y/N,” Gwil eventually breathes out and raises his lowered eyes. “I wish I could have a good reason for not showing up the other day and for copping out on you like that, but I just don’t. I…”

He looks around and bites his lips, looking for a way of how to finish his sentence in books-filled shelves.

You wait patiently because you have the feeling that there is something he needs to say, and it would be ill-advised to interrupt his thoughts.

“Okay, I’m probably already not in your good books, so why not make even a bigger twat of myself, eh.”

“Ha, in the good books. Get it? You’re in a bookshop,” you chuckle, your voice not as strong as you would like it to be.

“Yeah,” he replies, and the corners of his lips rise up slightly. Soon, his voice turns serious again. “Well, I went to that stupid audition and I just fucked it up. Yeah, there’s no better word for that. I fucked it up, big time. I tried to persuade them to give me another chance, I said I would do anything, and the production assistant surprised me. She promised me another audition if I went for a drink with her afterwards, and I… didn’t refuse.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, presumably the first one since he started explaining what had happened. “I wasn’t thinking, and when I realised I was supposed to be with you, it was too late.”

“You could have called me,” you say slowly, daring to meet his gaze.

“My phone was dead. I was fiddling with it so much while I was waiting for the audition. Was driving Ben absolutely crazy.”

“Can confirm!” Ben’s head peeps out from behind a shelf and quickly hides again when he spots both your and Gwil’s not so amused expressions.

“Still,” you start and shake away the trembling feeling that is creeping to your voice, “You could have come by later and explain all of that to me that night.”

By some miracle, it’s as if he senses the direction of your thoughts, and rushes to set the record straight, offering the absolution you haven’t, until now, realised you desperately craved.

“The moment it dawned on me what a jerk I was, I said my goodbyes and left. But it was too late, and I felt like such a prick, so I actually dropped in another pub and drank some more. Was so shit-faced I stayed at my brother’s ‘cause he lives in that area.”

A great weight is lifted from your shoulders and you can finally take a deep and long breath. You feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips but Gwilym does not see it; he is avoiding your eyes, as mortification keeps surrounding his whole person.

“I am so, so sorry,” he repeats once again and the moment the words leave his lips, you forgive him.

Actually, you already have.

You are just about to tell him so when he finally finds the courage to look into your eyes as he reaches out and gently grasps your hands that have been resting on the counter.

“Please, can you forgive me?”

His thumbs are lightly stroking your skin and you cannot tear away your gaze from his beautiful blue eyes.

“Sir, I must ask you to leave right now!”

Wait, what?

It takes you a moment to become aware of where you are and what is happening. The bookshop, right. And as for what is going on…

“Sir, I won’t repeat myself, leave this building immediately!” Peter’s voice reaches such volume that every customer stops in their tracks, their curiosity taking the better of themselves.

“I was only showing this young lad the historic section. I don’t reckon it’s a crime,” Mr Dean responds in his defence, which only infuriates Peter some more.

“You’re always just helping other customers, or browsing, or, God forbid, reading our books without paying a single penny for them. I want you gone. This is not a library!”

“Peter,” you say weakly, not capable of wrapping your head around it. He isn’t supposed to be here, otherwise you would have warned Mr Dean beforehand.

“Is that the Mr Dean you told me about?” Gwil whispers and it is only then when you notice your hands are still placed in his and his face is much closer to yours than you remember.

“Yes, I’m–” you start but Gwilym won’t let you finish the sentence.

“Trust me, darling. I’ll stop by at your place at around seven, okay?” he hastily says and places a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you at the till dumbfounded.

“Grandpa!” he greets joyfully and rushes to Mr Dean to give him a proper hug. “Have you found the book you told me about?”

Mr Dean shoots a glance your way before he replies. “Ah, I… Yes. Yes, yes, I did, give me a second.” You’re taken aback by his quick reaction because you have not moved from your spot, your jaw down, and you are pretty sure your arms are still stretched in front of you although Gwilym’s warm palms are no longer holding them. You fix your posture in an instant and clear your throat, at least trying to give the impression of having everything under control.

Although you are not particularly proud of yourself, you’re still doing better than Peter. He is just standing there, opening his mouth like fish as no words are leaving his lips.

Gwilym pretends he has only just noticed him and raises his eyebrows in make-believe innocence. “Is there any problem here?”

It takes a couple of moments before Peter gathers his bearings.

“I’m sorry, but this is your grandfather?” he finally finds his voice and points an accusatory finger at your dear friend.

“Yeah! He’s been wearing my ear off about this wonderful book he discovered here, so I’m here to get it for him. For his birthday, you know? Which is coming soon, isn’t that right, grandpa?”

“In a couple of days, actually,” Mr Dean confirms and nods his head seriously as if contemplating the fleetingness of time and existence.

“Urgh, I’m the worst grandson ever, really, looking for gifts this late, I should be ashamed of myself.” You are fascinated by Gwil’s acting; he doesn’t miss a beat and comes up with lies so quickly, all you can do is stare in astonishment. It’s not like anyone needs you right now because all customers are watching the scene unfold.

“Ah, got it!” The victorious announcement of Mr Dean makes Gwil turn on his heel and leave Peter behind.

“Wow, that’s really pretty! You weren’t lying about the photographs.” Gwil expertly inspects the pictures of various relics and nods, approvement and appreciation readable from his pursed lips. “Excellent! We’ll take it.” He closes the book in one swift motion and heads to your cash desk.

By this time, you have composed yourself enough to remember all the common niceties, and you are quite proud of your performance as you easily scan the book that you’ve seen cradled in Mr Dean’s palms many afternoons and punch the price into the card reader so that Gwil can pay.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” you do not forget to ask and when your gaze meets Gwil, your heart starts beating so fast you almost can’t hear the answer.

“Oh yes, please, that is if we’re not bothering you.” Gwil’s smile lights up his whole face.

“No bother at all,” the corners of your lips rise in a matching smile and you procced to neatly wrap the book in a piece of brown paper, taking extra care to tie a dark blue ribbon around the package.

“Thank you so much, have a lovely day!” Gwilym places the book under his arm and leaves the shop, Mr Dean on his tail offers a wave and a wink that, hopefully, Peter cannot see.

Through the display window, you almost miss Gwil turning around and mouthing ‘see you tonight’ before he and Mr Dean disappear behind the corner. You almost burst into laughter when Ben suddenly emerges from behind the bookshelves and dashes after them.

You have got the feeling that Peter is mumbling something, but all you can think about is your lovely neighbour and the kiss he ever so gently placed on your cheek.

You resist the temptation to touch your face, wondering whether the imprint of Gwil’s lips can be found there, or whether the gesture is forever inscribed into your mind only.

But then, you finally register Peter’s words...

“I can’t believe it! And of all days he’s got to pick today and embarrass me in front of the buyers. God damn it!”

… and your smile freezes.

Buyers.

The sequence of syllables still sounds foreign and dangerous to your ears.

Buyers.

No matter how many times it rolls off your tongue, the word remains the same.

So that’s it. Peter’s made up his mind and he is going to sell the bookshop. And that leaves so many questions unanswered. The new owners, are they going to keep the staff, or do they plan to hire a new bunch of people? Is there even some certainty that they will not rebrand and establish a branch of a fast-food chain? It’s not like the city is flooded with them, right.

You feel the dizziness creeping up your neck as those thoughts swirl in your head, not permitting you a moment of peace. You almost crash into a passer-by, but thankfully you manage to keep yourself upright and the take-out bag with your late lunch intact in your hold.

Once you finally arrive home, you heat up the food you have brought with you and open your favourite book in a desperate attempt to diverge the direction of your thoughts.

You are torn between biting your nails from the uncertainty of your future career and halting in the story and daydreaming about Gwilym’s visit tonight. And with that mindset, you go about your day while you clean up, water plants, and dust your flat; you have been putting it off for ages.

Emerged in thoughts, you almost mishear the buzzing sound of the bell. You are wearing baggy trousers and an old t-shirt with stains God-knows from what. You have reckoned you’ve still got time to change before Gwil’s visit. Oh well, he has seen you at your worse.

However, your brows furrow as you step into the hall and catch a glimpse of the digital clock.

5.40 p.m.

Swinging the door open, you are met with no one. Another sound of the bell and the line on your forehead deepens.

“Hello,” you mutter when you press the intercom, and the static comes through.

“Y/N! Hi! Ready to go out and grab coffee with me?”

It takes a moment before the dots connect.

“Oh, Daniel, hi! I… erm… can you give me ten minutes?”

“Sure thing!”

The dash across your flat, from the door to the dresser, then to the bathroom and back to the hall could be considered a match to any Olympian’s winning sprint race, but it is too early after your accident and your ankle makes itself known. You grit your teeth and grab a purse, leaving your flat and hoping no appliances have stayed turned on.

How could you have forgotten?! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Hi!” you greet breathlessly when you fly from the entrance door, and Daniel gives you a lopsided smile.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” No matter how hard you try not to give anything away, the blush on your cheeks betrays you. “Oh my God, you did!” Barking out a laugh, he lets you take a couple of deep breaths before you start walking down the street. “Maybe it should be you who’s gonna buy the coffee today.”

“Gladly,” you smile and spot a cosy café. For a split second, you consider taking him to Hazel’s, but then you imagine the soft hues of brown and gold against black and white background of your most beloved café. Your mind goes straight to the day you bumped into Gwil and Ben in there and you do not wish to stain that memory. Besides, this café is right behind the corner of your block of flats, which means you shouldn’t get stuck at some far-off place. “Actually, I owe you ‘cos I’ve got some plans at seven and I need to get home by then.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies hesitantly, and you bite your lips, feeling like an arse. Well, you can make it up for him by paying for the coffee, right?

You are trying. You are really, truly trying. Daniel is nice. Funny, smart, and knows all the iconic movie lines off pat, however, the moment you look into his eyes, you feel nothing, there is no bated breath, no heart beating fast. Nothing. And honestly, it seems you are not making a particularly good impression either. He takes notice of your constant checking the time on your phone, and when you catch yourself doing it for an umpteenth time, you roll your eyes at yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter after a moment of silence, which you wish were a companionable one, but you are too fidgety.

“It’s fine, I get it,” Dan offers a sheepish smile, which you return. “Let’s get you back home, okay?”

The wind is chilling and light drizzle lands on your hair. As you walk down the street, you notice that Daniel is trying to gently hold your hand. It starts with your fingers brushing and you would dismiss it as an accidental touch but when his fingertips graze the back of your palm, you sense the intention in the gesture. You bring your hand up, brushing off a damp strand of hair and scratching the back of your neck so as not to give him another opportunity for touch.

Hoping this debacle is behind you now, you say your goodbyes and grab the door handle to your building. Oh, how foolish!

“I know you’re lost in thought today but it was a nice date and honestly, I’m not ready for it to end.” He gives you a smile and his eyes sparkle when you stop in your tracks and turn your head to face him.

His gaze drops down to your lips and you are (literally) taken aback by the movement to such extent that your body shoots away. In the process, you press your back to the doorbell panel and jump a bit, not expecting that kind of contact.

“Careful.” Daniel’s fingers find your waist to keep you upright. “I realise I might not be the man of your dreams, but I hope we can go for dinner next time.”

“I…” you start, unable to find the words that would not hurt him.

“No, don’t say anything,” he whispers, and it is only then when you realise his face has inched closer to yours. And then he presses his lips to yours, and you freeze at the spot.

Your eyelids do not tremble with emotion, neither do you melt into his touch. You just stand there, barely moving your lips and thinking that this guy just cannot take a hint. You might have been waving the ‘I am not interested’ flag right in front of his face and he still would be none the wiser.

When he finally lets go, your gaze is still fixed forward and you suck in your lips in a subconscious effort to prevent him from another attempt of a kiss. However, you catch a flicker of light in the corner of your eyes and without giving it a second thought you twist your neck, and your gaze falls into the entrance hall. The windowpane which reflected two figures kissing a moment ago turns transparent and reveals a figure standing inside.

He’s there, at the top of the staircase, taking you by surprise for a second time this day.

But this time, his eyes are hurt behind his glasses, a deep line is forming on his forehead, and it seems as if he’s rooted to the cold stone floor. Your heart is breaking at the sight of him and you know you must do anything within your power to atone for this moment because you never ever want to see such pain written in his face.

“Gwil,” you breathe out softly and bend down to escape Daniel’s embrace. Pushing the main door, you rush to your neighbour, your friend, your… “Gwil, this means nothing, I’m not –”

“My doorbell rang, and I was foolish enough to think you couldn’t wait until seven. I…” He is avoiding your gaze, his eyes roving round the hall. He brings his hands to his sides, but quickly finds out there are no pockets in his soft camel pleated trousers and so he clasps them together. When he bites his trembling lips, it is almost unbearable to keep your eyes on him, but you cannot look away either.

Then, his features harden, and it is probably worse than before as your stomach tightens.

“Goodbye.”

You almost miss the sound, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks, but Gwilym is already gone, his moccasins tapping against the cold tiles of the stairs. You fight the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and have a breakdown right here and now. All you do is simply turn around, every movement calculated so as not to make an unnecessary one. Daniel is still standing at the entrance, his eyebrows raised in the piqued curiosity of what has just occurred.

“I can’t go for another date with you. I’m sorry.”

But you don’t feel sorry at all, well, not sorry for him at least. Your thoughts have turned into a tangled ball of turmoil and indescribable emotions, which are hard to make sense of.

When you reach your floor, you stop in your tracks to your flat. You have thought you lost all the courage, but you muster some from deep inside and cross the hall to knock on his door with determination.

God knows how long you are standing there, you knock again, and again.

Nothing.

Not even a sign of hope.

Your heart skips a beat when you finally hear the creak of a door being open, but a lump forms in your throat instead when it dawns on you that it is not Gwil’s door but Mrs Thompson’s.

“Hello Mrs Thompson,” you greet meekly the slightly open door of the 3A flat and drag your feet to your home.

You do not bother taking off your shoes or clothes. Crushing straight into your bed, you finally give yourself the permission to let your emotions flow and cry yourself to sleep.

Taglist: @lv7867, @spacedustmazzello, @queenwouldyourathers, @im-an-adult-ish, @fairestkillerqueenofall, @supernaturalee, @queenlover05, @geek-and-proud, @chlobo6, @mrsmazzello, @timeandpixiedust, @kerouacsroad, @gwilsmainhoe

#gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee angst #gwilym lee fluff #gwilym lee fic #gwilym lee imagine #multichapter #fluff #angst #vee writes #*mine

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martellthemandalor · 4 years ago

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Assistance - Chapter 6

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (No Y/N, reader is nicknamed)

Warnings: swearing, bombs/explosions, angst

Rating: 15

Word count: 5k+

Summary: Mando asks something he shouldn’t and things get explosive.

A/N: this chapter has taken me a while to write but i’m glad i took my time on it, its possibly one of my favourite chapters so far!! As always i love reading your comments and all reblogs help, so don’t be a stranger :))

Masterlist

You awoke to soft light streaming through the cracks in the ceiling, hazy beams of light criss-crossing above your head. The day ahead was going to be another long day of walking and one sided talking, so you were contented to take this moment of rest to watch the dust specks dance lazily in the rays of light. It was only dawn, but the temperature inside the barn had already risen considerably compared the cool temperament of last night.

You rolled onto your side and peered across at the sleeping Tin Can. He was laying stock still on his back, one hand draped across his stomach. The only indication that your companion was still alive was the visibly steady rise and fall of it. You dropped your head back onto the firm stems beneath your body, starting to regret choosing such uneven bedding. A nest seemed so cosy at the time but the uneven lumps of your stack were prominent, even under the thick blankets. You just knew that the minute you tried to get up your body would be stiff and unforgiving.

You lay there a few minutes more, slowly gearing up for the long day ahead. Sighing, you finally gathered the will to move, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and pushing yourself up and out. The second you straightened up you felt it, the tightness across yours muscles in your back and extending into your legs. Well isn’t this just perfect? You glanced at the sleeping pile of Beskar, thankfully his visor was fixed looking straight up.

You let out a quiet breath, thankful he was still asleep. While the flimsy fabric of your base clothes weren’t see through, you were still anxious to get your armour back on before he wakes up. At this rate however that wouldn’t happen unless you sorted out your damn back first.

Keeping an eye on your assistant you lay on your stomach, placed your hands under your shoulders and pushed up against the cold floor, raising just your upper body. Your hips dug uncomfortably into the solid and somewhat cracked surface beneath you, but the instant relief that spread from your spine as it arched back was worth it. Holding there you closed your eyes, letting your breathing shift to natural deep breaths.

Then you rocked backward, letting your legs fold underneath you, hands stretched in front of you. It was the final stretch you needed. You felt your body release all the tension from your back and legs in a long, blissful wave. You rested your forehead against the ground, letting the rough texture press against your soft skin.

There’s always something.

You’ve never been completely relaxed, there’s always been something standing in way. More often than not it was the adrenaline that surged through your veins when hunting, though admittedly you loved the feeling. Sometimes it’s the quiet anxiety that you are being followed or something more physical such as an uncomfortable bed. Even now as you settled completely into this position, the coarse texture beneath you was preventing true relaxation.

The soft clanging of metal against metal drew you out of your mind. You sat back onto your heels and before you even looked in his direction you could feel the usual weight of his stare.

It was different to you now though, the familiarity behind the pressure of it remained for sure but it was like something had…shifted. You felt even more vulnerable and exposed without your armour than usual and the urge to talk yourself out rose fast, falling back on your only working distraction.

“I should have followed your lead and chosen a bail, my kriffing pile left me stiff.” The words fell carefully from your mouth. A confident tone helping detract attention from the way your brows had pulled together and the extra tension in your limbs. You let your body go through the motions of replacing your armour, talking all the while. “Thank god this dirt ball of a planet has cool nights, I don’t know how I would survive if I had to sleep in the maker-forsaken heat of the day. Did you sleep well? I can’t imagine sleeping in that armour is exactly comfortable.”

You caught yourself there, replaying the events of last night. The images you were trying so hard to repress flew vividly across your mind. How close he was, how wordlessly he helped and how hesitant he was to touch you. How part of you wanted him to do it again. You cleared your throat, pushing the thoughts down. Say something.

“Thank you for last night, I’m sure my back would have been a lot worse if I’d slept with everything on.”

He didn’t stop observing you, not for a moment, just sat there motionless with his visor fixed on you. You managed to replace the last piece of your armour under his unwavering gaze, finally feeling yourself again.

“Your shoulder feeling better then?” He asked simply, helmet tilting somewhat. In all honesty you’d forgotten about the shoulder, it hadn’t hurt during your stretches, but as you probed at it now you could feel the dull pain of it under the plate of armour. You shrugged at him.

“I guess so. I can move it and lift shit apparently, it’s just when I touch it.”

“Don’t touch it then.”

“Ah yes thank you doctor,” You returned, rolling your eyes at him. At a glance you thought you caught his chest and shoulders shaking slightly for a moment. Did he just laugh? You try to meet his stare. The second your eyes met the dark glass of his visor however, his helmet swung away from you, his attention suddenly drawn to his rummaging through his bag. Great. Does he feel it to?

“Anyway, I think there’s only another day and a half’s journey before we reach the quarry, that’s if we keep up the pace of yesterday of course. I’m going to go and ask the owners if we can refill our water from their reserves and you will be taking one of them this time.” You began to pack up your things, folding away blankets and neatly placing your tool kit into your bag.

You talked the whole time, not really caring if he was listening. It was natural to you, speaking into the silence like this. It made things easier, a distraction from whatever menial task you were doing and it wasn’t long before you were packed and ready to leave.

“You ready then?” You asked the Mandalorian, although the answer was clear as Naboo waters. He stood silently stoic by the knotted wooden doors of the barn, pulse rifle and bag secure on his frame.

You had no idea how long he’d been waiting for you, he’d made no attempt to interrupt your chatter and hurry you along. It didn’t surprise you. In fact a part of you preferred it, silence doesn’t cause complications. A curt nod of his helmet offered his confirmation. “Okay, let’s get these pouches filled and we can get off.”

The family had been more than happy to let you fill the bladders. They even sent you off with fresh Gratham grain bread, which you thanked them for, along with the kind offer of the barn, with a charming and brightly-smiled façade.

You had waited until you were long out of view of the farm before you let the disarming upturn of your lips drop. Hunger was gnawing it your stomach, a steady and dull ache that only got worse once you remembered there was actual warm bread waiting beneath the wraps of fabric in your hand. Glancing across at the Mandalorian you could see him cradling his own small package, holding it with the same reverence as you in a gentle grip.

You swore you weren’t going to eat until he could. It just wouldn’t be right to make him watch again, but the reverence of that vow was waning. With every passing second you could feel the gentle heat seeping through the bandages and onto your fingertips, fuelling your hunger.

“I bet you’ve seen some weird planets during your hunts. I think the weirdest I’ve seen would have to be Felucia. It’s mostly made up of this awful humid jungle, but the colours of it are just exquisite. The organic life is 90% these various fungi plants, like nothing you’ve ever seen I guarantee,” You said. You were hoping that if you spoke enough it would be a sufficient distraction from the gentle ache in your belly.

“What I really like about it though is what lies deep in the remote areas of the planet. Scattered across the ground and hung from trees are battle remnants from the clone wars itself. Seriously, there were untouched chunks of armour and destroyed weapons everywhere. My quarry had hidden themselves inside the trunk of this big-“

“Why do you do that?” His rough voice suddenly asks, interrupting your spiel. You turned your head to him, only to find he wasn’t even looking at you. His visor was fixed dead ahead, leaving you to watch your own distorted reflection in the dull shine of the helmets beskar.

You clocked your drawn in brows, lips pressed together and wandered when your face had changed so dramatically. You were normally so guarded in your expressions, or so you thought. You needed to fix that. The wrong expression could easily get you killed in this job.

“Why do I do what?” You tilted your head at him slightly, eyes flicking between your reflection, bathed in residual red tones of the world around you, and the path ahead of you.

“You talk a lot, but you never say anything. It’s confusing.” He replied steadily. Still he didn’t look at you.

The Mandalorian was trying to figure you out. Reading people is essential for bounty hunting, know how a person thinks and it’s ten times easier to track them down, predict their next move. It’s also vital for knowing who to trust and who will betray him first chance they get, especially now that the guild are after him. You were perplexing to him, almost impossible to read. Usually someone who talks so much give away at least a little bit of who they are, you however disclose nothing. At all.

You looked away from him. Of course you knew what he meant.

Maker, how could he be so intense without even looking at you?

It was there again, that feeling, and right now it was pulling on something in you to tell him. Actually tell him. What was wrong with you? You hoped it was the steadily rising heat from the unobstructed sun that was making your palms damp and your thoughts swirl like this. Maybe you were getting solarstroke again?

You reached for your water and took a long swig.

You glanced over at him again. This time your eyes were met by the inky pool of his visor. The black of it looked almost soulless in this vicious sunlight, and it took that invisible pressure of his stare to remind you that he was still very much alive under there. Still with you.

Kriffing maker alive.

You sighed, running a hand down your face. Pressing your tongue into your cheek you took another look at the emotionless giant next to you, a breathy chuckle escaping your lips.

“Okay, you really want to know?” You ask, quirking a brow at him.

He nods, the tilt of his helmet catching a particularly bright ray that flashes painfully into your eyes. You squint and blink away the temporary soreness. You’d expected him to have looked away from you again, but as your eyes refocused you saw he still was fixated on your face.

“Talking gives me power, the more I talk the more I can command a room. Talking allows me to change a mind, to intimidate a bounty, to disguise myself from a target. Most simply though? It allows me to be seen,” You run your hand through your hair, beginning to regret opening your mouth this time.

“You can walk into a room, all silent and stoic and every eye will be on you. Everyone will know who you are and remember you by the time you leave,” You throw him a look. Not one of distain or anger, but jealousy. He would never have to work as hard as you for a good reputation, in the guild or anywhere else. “I have to talk my way into being remembered, into having a reputation. One that’s now been stripped off me of course.”

Your eyes drop to the floor and spot a sizeable rock laying a few steps ahead. The second you get close you boot it, watching as it bounced and rolled away from you. “Now as to why I don’t ‘say anything’? To be utterly honest for once, Mandalorian, it’s just easier. Not talking about me makes it easier. Just lying makes it all easier. I can be whoever, whenever. It keeps me safe too; you can’t be predictable when no one knows who you really are.”

A small noise escapes the vocoder of the man next to you. A scoff. The Mandalorian actually just scoffed at you. He’s not looking at you anymore, no, he’s looking straight ahead and shaking his head slightly.

“What?” You scoff back. Your brow quirked at him again, arms coming to cross along your chest.

“Has anything you told me been the truth?” He asked quietly. His hands were fisted at his side, swinging with slightly more vigour than before.

“Everything that just came out of my mouth just now was the truth,” You said carefully, taken more than a little aback at his accusatory tone. You could feel your own frustration starting to bubble in your chest.

“And? Anything before that? What about your name?” He was still quiet, his words were clipped and chosen with care.

Your eyes shot wide open, brows arched high as you blinked at him in disbelief. You slowly uncrossed your arms, hands clenched tight by your sides.

How dare he.

“And the Jawas call the Ewoks short! My name protects me, I chose it, it’s mine, does it really matter if it’s not the one I was given?” You hissed at him, teeth baring as frustration turned to simmering anger, the stifling heat of the planet doing nothing to quell the slow boil of your blood. “I don’t ask your name! I don’t ask to see under your helmet! So do not fucking think for one moment that it is remotely okay to ask the same of me.”

He didn’t say anything to that. The two of you reverted back to what would be tense silence, if it weren’t for your heart knocking against your ribs and the blood rushing in your ears. You were nearly breathless with anger, your throat scratching with each sharp intake of the dry air. You all but ripped your water pouch from its place on your belt and chugged a good few mouthfuls. You unceremoniously wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, harshly clipping the pouch back.

Breathe.

You brought a hand to your chest, trying to ground your highflying emotion as you took a long breath in. You were normally pretty good at keeping a lid on your feelings, but you’d always had particularly short fuse and it take much pressure to spark a spectacular explosion.

Beneath your chest plate your heartrate had slowed considerably, a few minutes of particularly deep breaths later and you were nearly calm again. Nearly. There was a small twinge of guilt eating at your gut that you’d exploded like that. It wasn’t like yours and Tin Can’s situations were really the same. That didn’t mean you were going to apologise though.

Your stomach was the one to break the quietude again, a low rumble emanating from your belly in a reminder that you were, in fact, still hungry. The packaged roll in your clenched fist drew your attention once more. It was still warm, the sun and the heat of your hand seeing to that, the mere sensation of the firm swaddling against your palm making you salivate.

“You should eat.” It was almost inaudible, but by no means unmistakably him. That rough and slightly modulated voice gently directed at you. You didn’t reply, merely gave him a look that roughly translated to a slightly aggressive ‘You need to eat to’. He dismissively waved his hand. “I’ve gone longer without it. I can wait until we settle again.”

That small pang of guilt grew a little as you unwrap the parcel. However, the sweet smell that escaped the binding of the fabric assaulted your nose, overriding any restraint you were going to show.

You pulled the blue tinted crust of the bread apart with your thumbs, exposing the cloud-like aqua insides. The first bite tasted of pure heaven, the fluffy dough melting across your taste buds as you ate. You groaned at the taste. It had been so long since you’d had fresh bread, let alone a homemade loaf.

You practically inhaled the roll, not stopping to take an actual breath as you ate. As you cleaned the crumbs off your fingers you glanced over at the armoured man next to you. He was seemingly unaffected, nothing betrayed if he was actually hungry, jealous or still angry. That was if he even was angry in the first place.

You turned your attention back your track, the blue line on your eyepiece still blinking steadily in front of your eye. Still no danger, thank the maker.

It was like you were numb to time. The Mandalorian and you just continuously trekked on along endless scarlet fields. Where you had initially noticed small differences between each expanse of grass, be it a different set of flora or discoloured bushes, it was now impossible for you to distinguish them. The only thing that really alerted you to the passage of time was the stark sun, crawling its way across the sky and steadily raising the temperature of the planet below.

You used the cloth left from your small breakfast to wipe away the sweat that was once again pooling uncomfortably at your brow. You couldn’t bear this anymore. How was it possibly even hotter than yesterday?

“Stop,” You command, freezing where you stood. It took the Mandalorian a couple of steps to register what you had said, but once it had gone in he turned on his heel to face you. He saw you tapping commands into your gauntlet, and then pressing a button on the side of your headset. You were looking around, but your eyes only flickered over where he stood, as if you couldn’t even see him. It made him want to speak, to move, anything to make your gaze linger a little longer.

You were trying to reroute the two of you, hopefully through a forest or a village, so you could get out of this murderous sun. You nearly cried when nothing picked up on your scan.

“What are you doing?” He asked, walking back up to you, his cape billowing behind him.

“I’m basically dying in this heat, so I’m trying to find some shade,” You said sharply, eyes staying on your gauntlet. You tap into the control panel on your arm, extending the search range in a vain attempt to find some structures. You turn your head to track the scan. As you slowly surveyed the land you all but gave up hope.

It was in the exact moment you did however, a small blip showed in the distance. The corners of your mouth turned up into a hopeful smile, eyes coming alive with a glint as you tapped at your gauntlet once more. The image on your eyepiece zoomed in and enhanced.

You almost wept with joy when it displayed a series of, from the looks of things, stone ruins. They would definitely have plenty of shade, and hopefully wouldn’t have any people to pester you either.

Locking in the new route you looked up at the Mandalorian, the second your eyes met the silver of his helmet your smile dropped from your face. The blue line in your eye jumped position and you wasted no time in striding in its new direction. You didn’t offer as much as a ‘come on’ in the direction of your assistant, just walked away. You knew he’d follow. And follow he did.

It took another three hours of walking, though it felt more like a full day of it, before you were met with the delicious sight of crumbling stonework. The place was definitely abandoned and had been for a long time, that much was obvious from the ribbons of grass that had fought its way through the cobbles beneath your feet. The path looked as if it had been slashed, open wounds of crimson tones where the growths of grass had forced the once sturdy slabs apart. The buildings weren’t much better, worn rocks of the walls now crumbling away and leaving gaping holes and vulnerabilities where once there had been safety.

You continued following the uneven path, the winding and disjointed stones beneath you drawing you further into the centre of chaos. Looking around you deduced this must have been a village at some point. The clusters of smaller, somewhat sturdier to judging by their better state, buildings must have been houses and the bigger ruins had to have been some form of communal spaces.

You could almost feel the life this place once had, the people moving around and talking, baskets of gratham stems and other goods in hand, trading for clothes and tools, maybe the occasional game for the little ones. It was so familiar and yet, so distant.

The way the walls of the bigger buildings had caved in had left arching tendrils of dusty stone, beckoning arms that begged you to walk towards them, to peer into the depths of the rooms they guarded. While your interest was piqued with finding what lay within the wayward walls, you were more fascinated with discovering what lay at the centre of the village. So much so that you hadn’t even noticed that the Mandalorian wasn’t following you anymore.

He’d been close by your side since you entered the village. That was until a small yellow frog almost jumped under his boot. He froze, initially it was from not wanting to crush the little thing, but that quickly melted into missing the kid. The guilt that had faded from your earlier argument surged to the front of his mind with renewed vigour, fresh with worry that he’d felt when left the child alone with a stranger. Sure she looked kind and the place had been busy with other children for the kid to play with, he’d also payed out a handsome fee to her for the trouble.

All that however didn’t stop the nagging feeling that someone was going to find him. The last time he’d left them alone Calican had got to them and- maker alive- they nearly got taken from him. And so down the spiral he fell, with the Mandalorian slowly following the darting yellow jumper, stalking it the way the kid would be if they were there.

You could see the village core, a sizeable round plaza, with paths stretching off at five regular points. You’d abandoned caution when you had entered the stoned space, the shadows of the ruins providing much needed relief that caused you to drop your guard.

Rookie kriffing mistake.

You should have seen it. You should have noticed the way these slabs were sitting just a little above the ground, the fact that they were paler than the rest, or just the fact that the circle of stones seemed perfectly preserved. No growths, no wear and no tracks.

One foot crossed the threshold, and your whole body tensed as you felt the stone sink slowly into the dirt. Kriff. The familiar rhythmic beeping of alert overrode your senses, blinking red lights scattered your eyepiece as you looked down.

Your reaction was instant, every nerve you have firing as adrenaline spiked through your veins. You snapped around. No time wasted as you took off from the plaza. Feet pounding against the mottled path, each push giving you more and more momentum. You tried desperately to keep your breathing steady as your heart hammered in your chest. You could hear the ground breaking up behind you. Great cracking and thundering crashes as rock collided with rock. The sound snapped you out of your laser focus to one gut wrenching realisation. He wasn’t with you.

You forced yourself not to stop, not to yell out just yet. Just keep sprinting. Your eyes darted as your legs carried you at speed, head snapping from side to side as you peered into wrecked buildings and alleyways. Tears were beginning to prick at your eyes from the effort of keeping them open in the dry heat, blurring your invaluable vision. Sweat dripped down your face. A sheen of it forming over your body from exertion. Your lungs were screaming at you, begging for respite. The pain of it was almost enough to make you give in.

“SHIRYN?”

His voice carried through the ruins to greet your straining ears. The mere sound sharpened your senses, head jerking in the direction of the sound. You were vaguely aware of a new sound too. Thrusters, very small but undoubtedly powerful thrusters. The realisation of what was about to happen hit you as your caped assistant ran into view. He was right there. Just a few more paces in front of you. The new serpentile hissing at your back spurred you towards the Mandalorian’s shine, his helmet tilted towards the expanse above your head.

“MANDO!” You screamed at him.

Time seemed to slow around you, your goal making everything else fade away. You felt the shocks of the first impact rippling beneath your feet, it didn’t matter though because he was within your grasp, just one step away. Your arms reached out to him.

You nearly collided with him. Hands grasping at his pauldrons and pulling him with you. You hauled him, with all your strength, into the house on your left, throwing him to the ground once you were through the threshold. You fell on top of him, curling your body instinctively around his, legs tight around his hips, arms either side of his head, your own head cradled in the space between his shoulder and helmet, pinning his body beneath yours.

The explosions started milliseconds after you hit the ground. The sheer volume of each impact made your ears feel like they were about to bleed and the floor beneath you shook violently. Heat from the each detonation licked through door and fanned out across your clothes, making you sweat even heavier under the already sticky fabric.

Your eyes were screwed tight shut. Every muscle in your body constricted tighter with each wash of heat, your pulse thrumming in your ear. Any hope of controlling your breathing was abandoned as you shakily panted. Inhaling the thick smoky air in a vain attempt to draw in sweet, sweet oxygen. You tried to draw yourself away from destruction that was happening right outside the stone walls, to let yourself drown in the sound of your own heartbeat, of the feeling of Mando’s cold beskar pressed against the side of your face. You were so wrapped in distracting yourself you didn’t notice the firm grip of his arms circling your waist. Anchoring you to him.

Rocks were beginning to fall around you, the once sturdy structure beginning to fail its purpose. Your grip on the Mandalorian beneath you tightened as stones fractured across the floor, each collision making you flinch slightly. You were bracing for an inevitable impact when you felt your whole world shift dramatically, your body being rolled beneath a substantial weight. You expected to hit the ground hard, but your impact was softened by a pair of arms, one secured under your back and the other cradling the back of your head. Holding you to him.

Your hands grasped at him blindly until you found purchase on his arms, fingers digging into the rough fabric of his sleeves. Tentatively, you opened your eyes. You had expected to see the slowly collapsing ceiling, but your view was thankfully obstructed by Mando’s chest plate. Right as the two of you settled into this new position, a hefty chunk of stone hit the ground where you had been mere moments before.

It felt like an age before the sounds of chaos outside the safety of the building began to fade, the time between explosions lengthening exponentially. Even the house you’d dove into seemed to be stabilising, the rock-fall slowing as the tremors of the floor began to cease. You found yourself calming down, your body relaxing a little as you managed to take regular strong breaths, or as much as you could do at least in the unrelenting hold of Mando.

A few more drawn out minutes passed before the attack seemed to cease completely. Still though, you stayed encased in each other’s grip, anxiously listening for any stray detonations. You both seemed to come to the conclusion that it was over at the same time, your grip on his arms loosening as he released your head, lowering it gently to the now rubble filled floor.

Using his free arm he pushed up from you, but made no effort to retract his other arm or roll off you. Instead, he looked down at you, your skin glistening with sweat and hair wild beneath him. He watched your eyes with intent, curious as they darted around the room before settling back on his visor. You’d called him Mando. He was replaying that fleeting moment over and over as he looked at you, praying to the maker that you wouldn’t go back to referring to him as Mandalorian. His heart kicked up a notch when you cocked your brow at him, the miniscule change in your expression dragging him from his thoughts to the realisation that he was still pressed close against you. The last time he had felt anything like this was back on Sorgan, but here… kriffing hell he wished he knew what you were thinking right now.

Your eyes flitted between where you thought his own lay behind the visor, though you weren’t exactly sure what you were looking for. Being this close to him you could hear his breathing through his vocoder, hell you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your own. Part of you was yelling to get away, scramble from the precipice you just knew you were teetering on, and do not fall in. Yet a different part wanted to stay, to lean in and press your forehead against his the smooth surface of his helmet.

You swallowed. Hands releasing his biceps, you trailed your fingertips with a feather light touch across his shoulders to land on his chest plate.

Then you turned your head away from him, choosing to look at a crumbling wall instead of his visor as you lightly pushed him away.

Mando took the hint. He carefully extracted his arm from under you and rolled off, landing with a solid thud to the side of you. You wasted no time in sitting up and beginning to search yourself for injuries, sighing in relief when you found none.

He hadn’t been so lucky. It didn’t even register with him that he had been wounded, not until pain spiked up his leg at his attempt to sit up. The soft grunt that escaped him alerted you almost instantly.

“Mando, what’s wrong?” You asked sternly. Turning to face him you scanned over his figure, seizing up when you saw the tell-tale scarlet stain slowly darkening at his inner thigh, just above his knee. Shit. You shot to his side, hands working on removing his cuisse.

“Shiryn, it’s noth-“

“I get to decide when it’s nothing,” You snapped. Your tone probably came off sharp and abrasive, but you didn’t care. There was only one thought running circles round your mind right now. That this? This was entirely your fault.

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quicksilversquared · 5 years ago

Text

The Felix Fiasco:Chapter 2/2

AU of the episode Felix

Instead of cutting off what his father was going to say, Adrien inadvertently let Mr. Agreste out himself as Hawkmoth. With some help from a friend- and some surprise visiting family members- and a bit of luck, Paris might just find itself one supervillain down by the end of the day.

links in the reblog

Felix had had his story all ready when he stepped in the house. He had been taken off guard by the news, of course, and had run on impulse. Ever since the first akuma had showed up all he had heard was about how much of a villain Hawkmoth was, so of course his first reaction wasn't to be all-in. But he had had time to sit alone and think about it, and- well, he wanted his mom back, of course, just like his father did. And magic could do that, so- well, he wanted to know more, and to see his mom, if possible. After all, it had been ages, and he missed her.

And Adrien's father and Nathalie ate it up. There was no suspicion at all.

Seriously, how were these people supervillains? Sure, Felix was confident in his acting abilities- that was why he had agreed to this whole thing in the first place, because he was positive that he would be able to weasel his way through the situation- but he had figured that there would be more persuasion involved, them drilling him to make sure that he wasn't about to run off again and immediately report them to someone once he knew more. There had been some questions, sure- they had wanted to know if he had told anyone, to which they got a very quick "no!"- but nothing like what he had expected. Apparently the desire to see his mom again made "Adrien" turning to the dark side completely believable.

And then his mom and Adrien- or, sorry, "Felix"- arrived, and they had to interact normally, but as each other.

(At least Adrien had thought to have them practice that part in Marinette's room after they switched clothes. If they hadn't...well, Felix had far less confidence in Adrien's acting abilities, even if Adrien was the one between the two of them to do voice acting and shoot commercials.)

"This is nice and all, but Adrien and I were in the middle of something before you arrived," Mr. Agreste said after a few minutes of- well, admittedly awkward conversation. Felix's mom had apparently decided to continue on with the main reason for their visit- getting back the rings- and that was making Mr. Agreste less than thrilled. It probably was keeping him from getting suspicious, though, considering that Amèlie could have a one-track mind when she wanted to and her not bringing the topic up would be strange. It was a trait that ran in the family, really, so Felix refused to consider it a bad thing. "If you could, ah, wait-"

"They could hang out in my room!" Felix blurted, mimicking what he could remember of his cousin's eagerness as best he could. He gestured widely up the stairs. "There's a foosball table, and, uh..." He wracked his brain. What else had Adrien told him was in his room? Hopefully things hadn't changed too much since his last visit. "A climbing wall, and- well, you'll see."

"Thank you, Adrien!" Amèlie told Felix, beaming. She placed a hand on Adrien's shoulder, clearly ready to guide him up to the room, and then cast a disparaging look at Mr. Agreste. "Hopefully we'll get to hang out with you soon enough. Don't keep my nephew from me for too long, Gabriel."

Mr. Agreste only gave a short jerk of his head that might be interpreted as a nod, landing a heavy hand on Felix's shoulder and steering him forcefully towards what- if Felix was remembering correctly- was his office. Nathalie shut the door behind them, flipping the lock.

For the first time, Felix was nervous. This wasn't going to end in, like, human sacrifice or something, was it? It was all fine before, when they were around other people, but now Felix was on his own. If something went sideways...

No. His uncle wouldn't hurt the boy who he believed was his own son, right? Right-

-no. In a flash, Felix remembered what Adrien had said that had gotten his mom so enraged. Adrien had been attacked by akumas before- targeted by akumas, even, and Mr. Agreste had akumatized himself and attacked Adrien. Maybe it was just because stuff would likely be put back at the end of the attacks and so a little danger was considered acceptable, but that didn't exactly make Felix any less nervous.

"Your mother is down below the house," Mr. Agreste told Felix, guiding him to a specific section of floor in front of a painting of his aunt. It was weird. "We'll have to take the elevator. It's really only designed for one person, but we can make it work for two."

"An elevator? Where?" Felix asked at once, glancing around. He wasn't seeing any doors around in the too-open, too-clinical room. "In here?"

"In the floor, obviously." Mr. Agreste leaned forward, pressing several spots on the painting- buttons! Before Felix had a chance to memorize the pattern, they were going down, down, down. They passed another track that headed to the side and then- if Felix's eyes weren't deceiving him in the dark- upwards, and just kept going down.

Felix had decided: he Did Not Like This.

"It was quite difficult to get all of this installed without anyone noticing," Mr. Agreste commented idly as the elevator went down. "I had to call in a foreign company, make some payments to keep them quiet- not that they ever saw your mother or her condition. I had to keep her in one of the back rooms for a bit- it was quite dicey, making sure that neither you nor the household staff went back there. But the cavern already existed, and some of the scaffolding, so it wasn't quite as expensive as I had worried."

Felix had to struggle not to comment at that. How much of the money he had spent had actually belonged to Mr. Agreste, and how much had come from the Graham de Vanily family fortune? Surely he wasn't making that much money off of the fashion business, considering that everything Gabriel sold was either regular clothes with a brand stamped on them and sold at a huge markup, or absolutely hideous "fashion" that Mr. Agreste dreamed up, at least as far as Felix knew. The quality of the designs had definitely taken a turn for the worse after his aunt vanished, which suggested that either she had been doing a fair bit of designing herself or had simply been in charge of the editing.

"It was quite hard to keep you from noticing, of course, but I had hoped to pull off this whole thing without you knowing at all." Mr. Agreste paused as the elevator slowed and they descended into a huge cavern. Felix was not particularly comfortable knowing that this existed under his cousin's family's mansion- like, who had decided to build a house over this? It should have just been a park, and that way when the ground inevitably decided to collapse, there at least wouldn't be a building over it. "But it has dragged on for long enough now that I- well, Nathalie, at least- thought it might be a good idea to let you in on the secret, and you can be our eyes and ears on the outside."

"What do you mean, Father?" Felix asked, cringing on the inside. Having to call someone else- and someone as awful as Gabriel Agreste- father, so soon after his own dad had died...well, he would rather pass. But if he wanted to act convincing, he needed to address Mr. Agreste just like Adrien would. At least Adrien normally called Mr. Agreste father instead of dad, because Felix really wouldn't have been able to stomach that. Perhaps the two words were technically very similar, but it was just different. "How could I possibly be any more helpful than any news coverage? The Ladyblog has quite a bit of content."

"It has dropped in both quality and quantity recently. Both because your friend Alya has decided to trust Ms. Rossi and her stories, and because she's become so distracted by that DJ boyfriend of hers that she's not following the attacks as often." Mr. Agreste sniffed, leading the way off of the elevator even before it fully came to a stop "Typical teenaged romance single-mindedness. Foolish, and something that they will no doubt regret later on. They have become blind to everything except for each other."

Felix glanced away as though he was uncomfortable with how his- well, Adrien's- friends were being discussed, but inside he was trying not to roll his eyes. Adrien's friends were obsessed with each other? That was rich coming from the guy who had turned into a supervillain in an attempt to save his wife and had rather deliberately put his son in danger multiple times for the same reason.

(Also, this cavern was insane. There were rusting metal walkways over moving water below, and an opening somewhere up above that was shining light down at the cluster of plants at the far end, and- well, it was weird.)

"But you, Nathalie, and I can discuss specifics later," Mr. Agreste told him. "I know Nathalie had some ideas. It will require working in tandem with Ms. Rossi- she's one of my allies, though I don't know how much she suspects."

Felix blinked. "How- how much she suspects? What have you told her?"

"Very little. She is acting on my requests as Mr. Agreste- requests to deliberately get people upset enough to akumatize. Oh, don't look like that, you know that it causes no lasting harm," Mr. Agreste snapped when surprise and disgust slipped onto Felix's face. "And she is slippery enough to smooth things over again afterwards. But she's also been very cooperative with Hawkmoth, agreeing to become akumatized even without emotions clouding her judgment." He sent Felix a considering look. "You could do the same, actually. I'm sure it's something that Nathalie has thought of. With cooperative akumas, I can plan a design and powers in advance, instead of having to come up with them on the fly."

...Felix did not like this Ms. Rossi character already. He also wasn't sure who she was- she wasn't one of the people that Adrien had mentioned- and he didn't want to say anything that would give that away.

"But enough about that. You wanted to see your mother." Mr. Agreste headed up the walkway, shoes clicking with every step. "This way, stop dithering about. We don't have any time to waste- your aunt will start nosing around if we take too long, no doubt, and I shudder to think of what her reaction might be if she gets wind of this." Even from behind, his scowl was evident. "She's too nosy for her own good. The sooner she and your cousin leave, the better."

Felix had to force back the absolute rage at that. How dare his uncle call his mom nosy. Granted, maybe she sometimes was- he got irritated with her prying at times, he was a teenager and wanted his secrets, darn it- but for Mr. Agreste to say that, as though what he was doing wasn't a hundred times worse?

It was absolutely hypocritical.

"And here we are," Mr. Agreste announced, stopping in front of a tube... thing. He pressed a button, and the sides retracted to leave a glass case, with Emilie Agreste laying inside on a padded surface, deathly still.

It brought back memories in a rush, memories that Felix would have rather stayed deep inside. Memories of his father laying in a coffin- narrower than this one, to be sure, and wood instead of metal and glass- but with that same cream-colored silk padding and arranged in that same position, down to the flower bouquet held in his hands. Those waxy, too-pale cheeks, everything a little too neat and perfectly done up to truly look alive.

He wanted to be sick. Why couldn't Mr. Agreste have his wife on a bed, or at least in something far less coffin-like?

"She is alive," Mr. Agreste was saying, stepping closer to the foot of the- he was going to call it a chamber, Felix decided- and resting a hand there. "And the machines- they're to keep her stable. She was using the Peacock Miraculous even though it was broken. She was trying to be helpful, and this is where she ended up." He gazed up at his wife, clear longing on his face before he shook it off, his expression shuttering as he turned back to Felix. "Once I get the Ladybug and Chat Noir Miraculous- well, I want to use the ultimate power to change history, so that she wouldn't end up here."

"Won't there be a price, though?" Felix asked. He and Adrien had talked about it while they were swapping outfits and hairstyles and buffing out the few differences in their facial features with makeup, and Adrien had assumed that any wish made with the two main Miraculous had to result in kickback somewhere. Frankly, Felix had to agree with his cousin's assumption. That made a lot of sense. "A consequence for changing things?"

Mr. Agreste shrugged. "Perhaps. But I'm not going to concern myself about that right now. My kwami, Nooroo, had been most unhelpful about giving me information about that!" His voice rose with every word and Felix cringed back automatically.

He wasn't ever going to be jealous of his cousin ever again. Maybe they had both lost a parent- and maybe there was a possibility that Adrien's mom wasn't completely lost- but at least Felix's remaining parent cared about him. She wouldn't raise her voice, and she wouldn't look at him like Mr. Agreste had looked at "Adrien", all closed off and uncaring.

If Felix hadn't already felt bad for his initial plan to screw up his cousin's reputation as payback for Adrien not coming to Felix's father's funeral before, he definitely would now. It couldn't have been more obvious that his cousin already had enough to deal with.

"Master, I'm not allowed to say more!" a high-pitched voice protested, and Felix startled as a small purple creature appeared over Mr. Agreste's shoulder. "And it's unpredictable, and-"

"That's enough." Mr. Agreste swatted away the small fairy, focusing back on Felix. "I will interrogate Ladybug and Chat Noir's kwamis once I get my hands on them, and I will find out the best way to go forward. You don't need to worry about that."

Felix would beg to disagree, but he thought that it was probably not the best time to knock heads with Mr. Agreste. So he decided to turn to a different topic.

"What was Mom trying to do with the Peacock?" Felix asked, glancing back up at his aunt. "Who was she trying to help?"

Mr. Agreste frowned deeply, letting out a loud sigh. "She was trying to come up with a magic solution to cure your uncle's illness, to help him and possibly you and your cousin as well." He glanced up at Emilie again. "She fell into a coma before the test results came back telling us that neither of the two of you had inherited the genes for his disease."

Felix blinked. He knew that he had gotten tested to see if he had the genetic disposition to get the same illness that had killed his dad, but why- why would Adrien? They were related on his mom's side, not his dad's. "Inherited his disease? How- how would h- I inherit Uncle's..."

Mr. Agreste spared him a short look. "There were fertility issues, I thought we told you this before, Adrien. I mean, perhaps we didn't mention that your uncle helped out, but I thought that would be obvious enough."

Wait. He and Adrien were genetically brothers?

Well, that would explain how they looked similar enough to pass for each other with a clothes change, a hairstyle switch, and a little bit of hasty contouring with some makeup to cover up the few differences. Felix had known that technically, if one just considered genetics, that the two of them would be half-brothers since their moms were identical twins, but this...

Well. Felix had wondered how he and Adrien had ended up looking so alike when their fathers looked absolutely nothing like each other.

"Ah," Felix managed instead, deciding not to make any comments about how really, it was probably for the better that Mr. Agreste hadn't been able to have kids. Unlike Felix's own father, Mr. Agreste was- well. Not exactly model material, to say the least. "That- yes, okay."

He would have to ask Adrien how much he knew about the whole fertility issues thing, because he had never been told. That- that seemed like the kind of thing that would be really important to mention, like, years ago.

Also, did Mr. Agreste ever share information with his son in a way that didn't involve dumping it in one abrupt, overwhelming go? That seemed like it might be somewhat damaging.

"I'll admit, we should have done an exam for potential health problems first and made sure that everything came back healthy, but your aunt and uncle offered and Emilie seemed quite fond of the idea, so we were a bit lax on our screening." Mr. Agreste's face pinched, clearly irritated. "Not that it would have been easily available at the time, anyway. Add in the fact that we were rather fond of the idea of knowing the donor, instead of having it be some faceless, homely nobody who might have a dozen kids already across the country, and- well, never mind that. Your screening came back clear, after all, and with Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous, we will fix the damage from the broken Peacock and get your mother back."

"I- right."

"But I think that's enough information for now. We don't want your aunt to come snooping because we're taking too long." With another press of a button, metal shutters closed over the glass chamber and Gabriel Agreste turned, leading the way back up the walkway. Felix glanced back once before hurrying after him, trying his best not to fall behind. "With your help, now, we'll be able to get the Miraculous in no time and have your mom back with us. Like I said, it will very likely involve you working with Ms. Rossi, and I expect you to be on your best behavior with her. If we can get Ms. Dupain-Cheng akumatized...she has avoided my butterflies on more than one occasion now. I suspect that she would make quite the powerful akuma. Her creativity could make her more than a match for Ladybug."

Felix only just hid his disgust at that, instead turning a distressed look on Mr. Agreste. "But- but Marinette is my friend!"

"Akumatization causes no long-term harm, Adrien, we have already been over this. And I thought it would be obvious enough already considering how many times some of your other friends have been akumatized. It's not as though her akumatization would be any different." Mr. Agreste sent him an exasperated look. "If it would distress you that much to upset Ms. Dupain-Cheng, then Ms. Rossi can take care of that bit. You would just need to stay out of the way and not rush after her to try to offer comfort."

Felix knew full well that Adrien would never agree to that, not after Marinette had pulled him in and offered comfort during his breakdown. Still, he had to agree- or at least pretend to. "I- I'll try."

Mr. Agreste's lips flattened. "No, Adrien, you will. There is no try. I am not asking for an impossibility here."

Felix swallowed a sigh. He wasn't surprised, really. "Yes... father."

"Good. And I plan to change the timeline, to keep your mother from ever falling into a coma in the first place, so Ms. Dupain-Cheng won't even remember her akumatization." They stepped onto the platform, and Mr. Agreste tapped the button that would take them back up. Felix tried his best not to scowl as they ascended into the dark tunnel again, trapped with no space to step back and away from the madman that was his uncle. "So you see, I am not the villain after all. Paris will not remember this, if all goes to plan, and we will have your mom again."

For a moment, Felix was almost tempted to forget the whole stop Hawkmoth thing. If Mr. Agreste changed the timeline- would he change it so that the Peacock wouldn't be broken, and Mrs. Agreste might actually be able to find a cure before his dad died? After all, it sounded like she had been trying to find a cure for all of them, not just in case Adrien had the same condition. But...

Well, all signs pointed to it not being a particularly good idea for him to trust Mr. Agreste's stories. He was clearly a madman, and it was incredibly likely that there would be consequences for such serious magical tampering. Maybe their immediate family wouldn't see those impacts- or maybe they would, and Felix would lose his mom instead- but either way, Felix knew deep inside that his dad wouldn't approve.

They went up and up, and Felix turned his attention to his secondary plan- stealing the Miraculous. Adrien had guessed that it was hidden under that hideous ascot- not that he had actually seen the pin, he was just assuming based on where he had seen Hawkmoth wear his Miraculous- and getting it unnoticed would be difficult unless he could figure out a plan. Maybe he could pretend to lose his balance and fall against Mr. Agreste, but how to make that look realistic...

Despite his earlier show of confidence, stealing the Miraculous was always going to be a long shot. Rings were easy, and bracelets. But pins, and particularly hidden ones?

Felix shifted, shuffling his feet as though uncomfortable- and that wasn't hard to act at all- and was about to 'trip' over his own feet when the elevator gave a sudden jolt. Felix's carefully-planned 'fall' turned into a real one, right against Mr. Agreste's chest.

And as luck had it, right against the bottom edge of Mr. Agreste's ascot. As the elevator gave another jolt- good god, please don't let it actually break now- Felix let his hand slide under the ascot (a clip-on, how utterly tasteless and embarrassing for a fashion designer) and felt the bottom of a pin at once- hopefully the Miraculous, and not just a normal pin. As Mr. Agreste's attention was on cursing out the elevator system and trying to keep them upright and not getting their clothes caught in the few bits of exposed machinery, the pin practically shifted itself into his hand and Felix unpinned the Miraculous, letting it slip out of his hand and up his sleeve, trying not to flinch as the pin suddenly changed shape.

Somehow, miraculously, it was mission complete. And his uncle seemed none the wiser.

With one more jolt, the elevator started moving normally again, just as though the near-breakdown hadn't happened. Felix frowned against the darkness, then narrowed his eyes when he caught a glimpse of something small and dark up above, something that vanished into the shadows before he had a chance to get a better look. There was another flicker of movement on the other side of the tunnel, but it too vanished before Felix could figure out what it was.

"Do- do we have rats?" Felix asked, still frowning into the darkness as they continued upwards. "I thought I just saw something."

"Perhaps. The cavern is not exactly completely insulated from the world, so while I shudder to consider it, it's not impossible. Did you see something?"

Felix shrugged, taking a step back- well, as much of a step as he could, without risking stepping too far back and into the walls they were moving past- and letting his hands fall by his sides again. The Miraculous slid back down his sleeve and into his hand, and Felix pocketed it at once. "I thought I saw something small moving along the side of the tunnel, but it's too dark to see."

Mr. Agreste just let out a noncommittal hmm.

After another few seconds, the floor above split and they ascended into the office. Nathalie glanced up as the elevator platform clicked into place on the floor, giving them a brief smile and nod before returning to her work. Felix stepped away from Mr. Agreste at once, giving himself a bit of breathing room.

"I don't think that I have to remind you not to tell anyone," Mr. Agreste instructed him sternly. "Don't make me regret trusting you. I know that you want your mother back as badly as I do, and this is what we need to do. The opinions of the city do not matter."

"Of course, Father," Felix lied at once, very aware of the weight of the Butterfly Miraculous against his leg. "Should I go check on Felix and Aunt Amèlie now?"

Mr. Agreste nodded, leading the way over to the door and unlocking it. "That would probably be for the best. If my memory serves me correctly, your cousin has rather sticky fingers. You wouldn't want too many things to go missing."

Felix very nearly felt offended, but then promptly remembered that his original plan for their visit to the Agrestes had included snitching his cousin's phone and just now, he had stolen his uncle's magic jewelry and was planning on trying to steal his ring for his mom if possible.

Maybe he did have somewhat sticky fingers, but only when he had a goal. It wasn't as though he was a common pickpocket.

"Of course, Father," Felix said again, stepping out of the room. "Will we see you at dinner?"

"No, I've wasted quite enough of the day already, so I'll be taking my meals in the office as usual," Mr. Agreste told him. He scowled. "No matter what opinions your aunt has on the matter."

Felix tried not to smirk. His mom would absolutely be vocal about that, and it would be hilarious to see the face-off. Mr. Agreste well deserved her ire, after all. "Right. I'll see you later, then."

He didn't get a response, and he hadn't expected one. After lingering another half-second, Felix trotted up to Adrien's room, hoping that his memory would serve him right and his cousin hadn't changed rooms or anything since he had last visited. Thankfully, the door handle he remembered gave, and Felix stepped into the room that he remembered, excessive even by rich people standards. His mom and Adrien were there, hovering anxiously by the door. They both let out a sigh of relief when they saw Felix, letting him into the room at once and locking the door behind him.

"How did it go?" Amèlie wanted to know at once, ushering him further into the room and handing over a makeup wipe and a comb so that Felix could start putting his appearance back to right. "Did you see Emilie? Did your uncle suspect anything?"

"Well as it could have, I suppose." Felix shrugged. He hadn't been ill despite the- well, despite the reminders of death and coffins that he really hadn't needed- and Mr. Agreste hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. "I saw Aunt Emilie, yes, and I don't think he suspected anything, and, well..." Felix let a small smile slide onto his face, reaching into his pocket and pulling his hand back out, opening it where both his mom and Adrien could see. "I managed to grab this when the elevator malfunctioned on the way back up."

The twin gasps this time made Felix grin. Amèlie reached out as though to take it, then drew her hand back. "That- you're sure that's the Miraculous?"

"It sprouted wings after I grabbed it, so I assume so, yes." It had been so hard not to react when he felt the brush of wings sprouting out of the Miraculous, but Felix had managed it. He tapped it, a little curious, but- no. He couldn't want it. He wasn't going to be like his uncle. Felix refused. Besides, the Butterfly itself really couldn't do much beyond make tacky villains in an attempt to take Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous, and considering that his uncle had been trying and failing to do that for ages, the likelihood of Felix actually succeeding in a much shorter timeframe- after all, a non-zero number of people knew about his plan to get the Miraculous- was pretty much nil. "And, well. I managed to get this set up before coming into the house, and it's a good thing, too."

Felix pulled his phone out of his pocket, finally hitting the end button. The screen blinked up at him, announcing that he had been recording for just over forty minutes and his phone's storage was nearly full. It had been a last-minute idea, really, but he was glad that he had thought of it now. His uncle had said quite a few interesting things, and it would be important evidence soon enough.

Adrien grinned as soon as he recognized what Felix was holding. "That's great! More proof for Ladybug and Chat Noir."

"I'll make some copies of the file this evening," Felix told them. He turned his attention to Adrien. "Do you know of a Lila Rossi? Apparently she was freely working with Hawkmoth."

Adrien's jaw dropped, and then a slow grin spread onto his face. "No way! That's great- I mean, it's- well, she's a terrible person," he hastened to explain. "She likes lying to get her way, and it's frustrating to listen to, but if we fight her, then she might get akumatized and cause a lot of problems. I know Marinette has been butting heads with her a lot, and Ladybug loathes Lila, so for Lila to be ousted as willingly working with Hawkmoth..."

Felix smiled at that. "Yes, I gathered that she might not be the kindest character. Mr. Agreste was talking about having her deliberately upset people to get them akumatized, and apparently your friend Marinette was next on his hit list."

"He- what? No, he had better stay away from her, how dare they go after Marinette-"

"Oh, is she your girlfriend?" Amèlie asked in delight. "I did wonder, since you two seemed quite close, but I didn't want to pry, it didn't seem the time."

Adrien promptly turned pink, which seemed like a pretty clear answer to Felix, but he was also shaking his head. "No, I- we're friends! And she does so much for all of us, to help everyone out and keep people happy so that people don't get akumatized, and so for them to target her..."

...yeah, Felix's cousin was pretty obviously sweet on this girl. Before Felix could call Adrien out on that, though, there was a knock on the window and Ladybug waved at them from the other side. Felix stepped that way, ready to hand over the Butterfly Miraculous at once, but Adrien stepped in front of him.

"I want to make sure that it's actually Ladybug," Adrien murmured, just loud enough for Felix and his mom to hear but not Ladybug, who was still standing outside of the window. "The Peacock is still out, and we've seen some odd sentimonsters recently. You put yourself in danger to get this, and I don't want to lose the Miraculous right back to Nathalie again."

Felix nodded, letting Adrien take the lead. He wasn't sure how Adrien was planning on ensuring that this Ladybug was the real one, because Felix was pretty sure that his cousin wouldn't know anything more about Ladybug than any other person in Paris did. He could admit, though, that the timing seemed pretty strange, since how would Ladybug know to come now?

"Hi, Ladybug," Adrien said, pushing open the window and stepping aside to let Ladybug in before Mr. Agreste or Nathalie could spot her on the security cameras. "Um, how are you?"

"I'm- well, I've had an interesting day," Ladybug said, rubbing the back of her head. "Marinette waved me down when I was out for a run- I had heard horns and yelling, so I thought that there was maybe an akuma out and so I was searching- and told me about your father and that, well..."

Adrien nodded. "That he's Hawkmoth."

"And that you were maybe going to try to get the Miraculous, if possible." Ladybug glanced between them. "So I was mostly curious about what more you had learned, and if you maybe...?"

Adrien nodded, then paused. "Ah, one quick question, just to be safe- when Jackady was attacking the house, what did I do when I got to my room?"

Ladybug blinked, clearly puzzled by the question, but only for a moment before her expression cleared in understanding and her cheeks turned pink. "You, uh, went to go take a shower."

"And what did we talk about after I came out?" Adrien asked, just as pink as Ladybug was. She smiled at him, bright and happy.

"I saw the picture of your mom on your computer screens...and I said that you had your mom's smile."

"Okay," Adrien said, nodding and flashing her a wide grin. "Thanks, I just- I just had to make sure."

Ladybug nodded, smiling back. "That's fine. I understand wanting to be careful, and I appreciate that. It's really smart."

There was a pause.

"I got the Miraculous," Felix announced when it seemed as though neither Ladybug nor his cousin were about to speak. He produced it from his pocket. "I understand the Peacock is still at large, but I didn't want to push my luck with trying to find it."

"It's not worth it, not when we know who has it," Ladybug agreed. She took the Butterfly Miraculous, popping open her yo-yo as she did. After another good look at the pin, she tucked it into the yo-yo and snapped it shut. "That's incredible that you were able to get it. I would have thought that Mr. Agreste would have been too protective of the Miraculous to let anyone get close to his neck."

"I got a lucky opening and I have practice swiping things unnoticed," Felix told her, ignoring the fact that anyone would be able to figure out that there wouldn't be many positive applications of that particular skill. That was entirely beside the point. "I also got an audio recording of my entire experience with Mr. Agreste and our visit downstairs. I'll be making a copy of it tonight- mom, what hotel are we staying in?"

His mom frowned, thinking. "I don't recall- it's not the Grand Paris, I know that much, because the last time we visited and stayed there, it was a bit too expensive even for my tastes and I wasn't particularly impressed by the place. It reads as more of a bragging rights project than an actual high-end hotel, so I decided to go elsewhere." She frowned in thought for a moment more and then smoothed out her expression automatically- after all, she couldn't get frown lines, that wouldn't be nice- before digging out her phone and navigating to her email, showing Ladybug the confirmation email before tucking the phone back in her pocket.

"Here, I can give you a USB drive now," Ladybug said, popping one out of her yo-yo. Felix tried not to stare, because seriously, how many functions did that thing have? But maybe he shouldn't be surprised, because it was magic, of course it could do whatever Ladybug wanted. "And then I can pop by later?"

"Well after dinner," Amèlie told her. "We're staying here for our evening meal, and then leaving an hour or two later, as though we were taking the last train of the evening out of the city."

Ladybug nodded in understanding. "Okay, I think I know when that is. I'll give you some time to get settled in before I stop by. And I thank you for turning the Miraculous over. I know not everyone would. The idea of powers like that- well, it's too much for some people to resist."

...well, okay, now he was going to feel guilty if he didn't say anything. Also, everything that he had heard before about the Miraculous and the wish that the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous granted was just guess and conjecture, and he- he wanted to know. Surely as the holder of one of those Miraculous, Ladybug would know more.

"I..." Felix trailed off, glancing to the side. "I will admit, I considered it for maybe a couple minutes. The opportunity to have my father back...and with the price, well, what if we traded my dad for Adrien's father? It's not like having the world be down one supervillain would have been awful, especially because my dad was actually nice. He cared about others, not just himself, and he wouldn't have even considered doing what Mr. Agreste did." He glanced back at Ladybug. "But that's not how the wish would work, would it? That seems too neat and tidy, to be able to pick and choose the person to trade."

"It's definitely more unpredictable," Ladybug agreed. "Even Chat Noir and I's mentor- he's been studying the Miraculous for years, and he made a really dumb mistake that caused a lot of destruction. You would think that he would use the Cure and fix that, but even he doesn't want to mess around with the Wish. There's just no way to control what the price would be."

Felix nodded. "Okay. Thank you." There had been no opportunities missed, after all. That would keep him from staying awake at night, wondering and wishing and cursing himself for not at least trying.

With one last bright smile, Ladybug thanked them again and took off out the window, vanishing quickly. They all watched her go before falling into a somewhat uneasy silence as Adrien and Felix finished swapping back their appearances. Once they were finished, Felix's mom spoke up again.

"We'll have to be careful going forward," she told them. "Adrien, your father is bound to notice that his Miraculous is missing at some point today. I doubt that he would try to make a fuss with Felix and I here, but once we leave- well, I don't think that you should stay here tonight."

"I can lock my door and sneak out," Adrien offered. "I've done it before, and even if Nathalie and Father have the key to the door, I know how to block the doors so that they can't be opened. And, uh." He ducked his head, a small smile on his lips. "Marinette just texted me and said that I can stay over at her house, since they have a guest room."

"Oh, good. Perfect." Amèlie beamed at them. "So I think that unpleasant business has been as sorted out as much as possible, then, and we can move on to more pleasant topics and actually enjoy the rest of our visit here. So. Uh. Ideas?"

"Uh, maybe just one," Felix starting, figuring that- well, he was curious, and this was probably as good of a time for it as any. After all, the visit was already a bit awkward with his uncle's impending arrest for domestic terrorism via magic supervillains, so surely it couldn't get much worse. "Earlier, in the cellar, Uncle said something about him and Aunt Emilie having fertility problems and Dad helping out. Uh, can I just ask- what?"

Gabriel Agreste let out a long breath once the Graham de Vanilys had finally, finally left, barely sparing Adrien a glance before heading back into his office and calling up a generous glass of scotch to sooth his nerves. His in-laws were as absolutely infuriating and interfering as he had remembered, barely deterred by the loss of Amèlie's husband, it seemed. Add in the fact that Amèlie still couldn't get her thick head around the concept that, family heirlooms or no, the twin rings belonged to him now, and the fact that Adrien's dash after learning about Gabriel's secret identity had caused no small amount of stress, and the fact that Amèlie hadn't accepted no for an answer and had forced Gabriel out of his office for dinner, just to make her stop pestering him and shut up- well, it really was no wonder that Gabriel had been nursing a small but persistent headache for most of the day.

But now they were gone- at least for now, he didn't doubt that they would be back in another couple of months to pester him some more, that family was nothing if not annoyingly persistent- and he could take some Advil with his scotch before settling in to plan out how he and Adrien could work together to take down the superheroes. With any luck, they could steal another Miraculous from one of the lesser, temporary superheroes and Adrien could use that to tip the scales. Gabriel wouldn't allow it for many battles- Adrien would only go out if conditions were solidly in their favor, because if he got his identity exposed that would be a disaster- but it could be the extra thing they needed, a strong akuma plus a sentimonster plus him and Mayura and Adrien.

"I could design the perfect akuma to make Ladybug and Chat Noir pull out one of the temporary heroes," Gabriel mused to himself once his drink was gone and his headache had receded, already rising to head for his elevator. He could plot better up in his lair, and he would also be ready if any negative emotions showed up in the city. There had been a surprising lack of them so far today, and he didn't understand why. "Which could very well mean re-akumatizing one of the people who got that reaction again. That could be difficult, unless I can direct Lila, perhaps." That wouldn't be hard, he was sure, considering that the girl seemed to jump on every opportunity to attack Ladybug. "But I might need to plan this one out some more. Nooroo, remind me what akumas brought out the B-team."

There was silence. Gabriel frowned, his fingers mid-reach towards the elevator buttons that would whisk him up to his lair. "Nooroo?"

Nothing. Dread started to pool in Gabriel's gut, and he scrambled to pull off his ascot, tossing it to the side to get a clear view of his neck.

His neck, which was- for the first time since he had put the brooch on- bare.

"No, no no no!" Gabriel snarled, sure that there had been a mistake. He dropped to his knees, snatching up his ascot and rifling through it in case the brooch had simply gotten snarled in the knot of fabric. His search yielded nothing. "Come on, come on, I couldn't have lost it!" The only new person who knew about him being Hawkmoth- who would have any idea about the hidden brooch- was Adrien, but he wouldn't dare steal his father's Miraculous. He wasn't anywhere near slick enough, after all- it was Felix that was the silver-tongued thief- and besides, he had clearly been very interested in his mother's return.

So where had it gone?

"Okay, breathe," Gabriel muttered to himself, determined not to let himself panic, even as he undid the pin-on ascot so that he could flatten it out. Panic led to dumb decisions, which could mean an end for him. "Adrien couldn't have taken it without tipping me off, he has no control over his emotions. He would have been nervous, and I would have been put on high alert. Maybe I just didn't fasten it right this morning and then it got knocked off."

Yes, that had to be it. Gabriel remembered that he had had to scold Nooroo in front of Adrien when they were in the underground cavern, so he had had the Miraculous then, at least. Which meant that it might have gotten knocked off down there. Where the walkway was not solid and there was rushing water down below.

That would not be good. Visions of the Miraculous getting whisked away by the rushing water danced through his head, and Gabriel's blood pressure spiked again before he remembered that Nathalie still had the Peacock Miraculous. They had to be careful with their usage of it, sure, but surely they could manage a transformation and a sentimonster that could sniff out the Butterfly Miraculous and return it. They might have to wait a week to make sure that Nathalie had fully recovered from her last transformation- or maybe it would be smarter for him to use the Peacock. The thought made Gabriel clench his hands, because the mere idea of subjecting himself to the peacock's weakness was-

Something was wrong. It hadn't been immediately obvious, but when he clenched his fists….

Gabriel's gut twisted as he looked down and then once again, he froze. This time, it had nothing to do with his missing Miraculous. Instead, Gabriel was staring at his bare hand. Specifically, his bare ring finger.

His ring. It was gone. Gone. Just like his Miraculous, vanished into thin air.

No!It-it couldn't be! He had been so careful to not let it out of his sight, and he certainly had never taken it off for more than a minute at a time to clean it. It wasn't as though he would take it off for any other reason- the smooth surface of the ring was hardly going to snag on any fabric, and he was hardly going to deign to do any sort of baking- which meant that it had been removed. Somehow. Without him noticing.

Two incredibly important pieces of jewelry gone without a trace in the span of a day. Gabriel scrambled for his phone, suddenly paranoid that maybe the Peacock had vanished from Nathalie's possession, too. If it had- well, then all was lost, wasn't it?

No. No, it had to be a coincidence. There hadn't been a single opportunity for Adrien to steal his Miraculous, but there certainly had been an opportunity for Felix to palm the ring when they shook hands. He should have been on the lookout for that, should have been on high alert the entire time that his sister-in-law and nephew were within his sight, should have put the ring in a safe until they were gone.

And by now, they were on a train back to London. Gabriel couldn't go after them, and even if he could, Amèlie wouldn't admit to her son taking the ring. They would hide it and play dumb and never let him see that they had it. No, it was well and truly lost to him now, and maddeningly so.

But that didn't mean that the Butterfly was. If he summoned Nathalie back to the house at once- she would be annoyed, certainly, since she had only just left, but as soon as she found out what was going on she would understand the urgency- then they could start the work of figuring out where the Butterfly had gone.

He wasn't going to let Emilie down.

(a/n: If ML is going to make Adrien and Felix inexplicably identical, I'm going to give them a completely bonkers justification for it. In this case, the chances of them looking so similar are a LOT higher if they share a father on top of having identical mothers.

This was meant to be the second and final part of the story, and it very well might be- I do like my open endings, after all- but it is possible that I might return to this story at some point and write a part 3 that ties up a few of the lose ends. It depends entirely on my inspiration and amount of other projects I have on the go, though, so no promises.)

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #The Felix Fiasco #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #Felix #chapter 2 of 2

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isitgintimeyet · 5 years ago

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Road To The Aisles

AO3

Happy Sunday. Hope it’s a good one for everybody. Another chapter and the wedding is getting closer. Time for a hen party...Warning: nsfw

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge @wickedgoodbooks @happytoobserve and to everyone who reads, comments, likes or reblogs x

Chapter 20: A Convivial Carousing

“What's so unpleasant about being drunk?"

"Ask a glass of water!”

― Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Claire thought she had been quite clear about this to Geillis. She distinctly remembered sitting in her office a few weeks ago when the subject had first been broached. Geillis had run through a list of possible suggestions for a hen party; beginning with a weekend in Benidorm (“imagine, sangria by the bucketful and eye candy in speedos”) all the way to a meal out with friends (“nice and safe”) detouring via an Ann Summers’ sex party (“It’s jes’ like a Tupperware party, ye ken, but with more cocks”), skydiving (“that adrenaline rush, as good as sex, I reckon”) and a burlesque dance class (“yer man’ll thank ye fer it later”).

When Claire had vetoed all the suggestions apart from a meal and drinks with friends, Geillis had then changed tack and began listing some well prepared ideas to “make the evening go with a bang, aye?”. Using the power of veto once more, Claire had made clear her thoughts on ‘pin the cock on the hunk’, any games involving dares or forfeits, any performers of the semi-(or un-)clad variety or costumes announcing that they were a hen party.

Geillis had tutted vociferously but eventually shrugged and agreed to Claire’s conditions.

So, why was she now sitting in this cocktail bar, wearing a sash proclaiming her to be a bride, while sucking her (admittedly rather moreish) cocktail through a plastic penis? She looked along the table at her friends, each wearing a matching sash and all busy writing on cards provided by Geillis, sharing their tips for a sexually successful marriage.

Jenny caught her eye and smiled. “I dinna think I ought tae be suggesting sex tips fer ma baby brother. It’s a wee bit —“

“Yucky? Disturbing?” Isobel ventured.

Geillis just caught the tail end of the conversation. “Only if ye’re doing it right.”

She winked before resuming her writing.

Claire drained her cocktail and moved on to the next already waiting for her. She studied Geillis over the rim of her glass, noting the glint in her eye as she wrote her contribution on the card. No doubt sharing some tips from her and Dougal’s activities, Claire told herself, interesting to read but maybe not her and Jamie’s type of thing.

As Geillis worked her way around the table, gathering up the cards, the door of the bar opened and a ‘fireman’ came in, tall and broad shouldered in his overly tight uniform. He carried his helmet in one hand and a portable speaker in the other. He stood for a moment glancing around before spotting Claire and her friends. He strode towards them, a cheeky grin on his face.

Claire felt herself redden and prayed for the ground to swallow her up. She cursed the sash proclaiming her to be the bride again; she cursed the balloons, spelling out H-E-N, tied to her chair; but most of all, she cursed Geillis, who had promised faithfully that there would be absolutely no adult entertainment this evening.

She glared across at Geillis, who returned her gaze with a confused expression of her own and shook her head slightly. Claire quickly watched the rest of her friends for any knowing smiles.

By now, the fireman had reached their table.

“I’m here on an emergency. Someone,” he looked directly at Claire. “Someone is too hot to handle.”

He sucked the air through his teeth noisily, in a parody of a passionate sigh. Claire did the only thing possible. She drained her cocktail and reached for the next one waiting for her.

“So,” the fireman drawled in a fake American accent, rotating his hips suggestively. “I’m going to have to use my hose… my extra long—“

He stopped abruptly as one of the bar staff tapped him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, gesturing to a room off the main bar area.

Shamefaced, the fireman shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, hen,” he now spoke with a broad Glaswegian accent. “This isna the right party. I’d best be heading.”

His eyes lingered on Geillis, now smiling coquettishly, before he turned and followed the barman. His arrival at the correct party was heralded by a series of loud whoops and cheers, clearly audible even over the hubbub of Saturday night two-for-one cocktail drinkers.

Claire breathed a sigh of relief and felt her stomach muscles unclench.

“Ye ken, Claire, I wouldna do something like that tae ye.” Geillis patted her hand. “I kent how much ye didna want that kind of thing. So, why don’t we have another cocktail, I’ll collect up the cards and we’ll see what kind of perverts ye have fer friends.”

Whether it was the sheer relief that Geillis had no embarrassing entertainment on the agenda, or the heady mix of cocktails coursing through Claire’s veins, but she finally decided to give in and throw herself wholeheartedly into the silly and potentially embarrassing hen party spirit.

Clearing her throat dramatically, she read each of the cards out loud, everyone trying to guess the originators. Some were obvious; who else but Geillis would have written about, in great graphic detail, a suggestion involving handcuffs, floggers and a black leather dominatrix outfit? And it was clearly Isobel who gave advice about the healing power of a hug. (“Not necessarily sexual,” she clarified. “But vital.”)

But Claire would never have guessed that it was Mary, the shy but efficient theatre nurse, who advised her to have a ‘toy cupboard’ next to the bed and always have spare batteries to hand. And as for a now clearly drunk Jenny’s confessions about her role playing adventures with Ian (a somewhat complex plot involving a Highland warrior and innocent serving wench fleeing the redcoats), well, Claire felt that was something best kept between the girls, and not to be shared with her future husband.

The rest of the evening passed in a whirl of chatter, laughter and alcohol. Claire knew she was drunk, not steaming drunk like Jenny, whose eyes were closed and her chin propped up with her hands, but in that tipsy phase when everything is wonderful… and shiny... and hilarious… and full of love.

Suddenly the bright overhead lights made Claire’s eyes begin to water. “What’s going on?” She asked.

Geillis began to gather up her belongings. “That’s it. It’s one am. Time tae go home.”

“But… but… can I not have another drink? I liked the..er.. orange one. Can I have another orange one?”

Geillis laughed and picked up Claire’s bags. “Ye’ve had about half a dozen different orange ones, Claire. It’s time fer the taxi.”

“Where’s Jenny?” Claire looked around.

“Ah, Weel, Isobel is seeing her home. I tell ye, it’s jes’ as well ye’ve some sensible friends, otherwise I dinna ken how ye’d go on. C’mon now, taxi’s waiting.”

Claire stood up as Geillis reached across and untied the balloons. Claire grabbed her arms and pulled her close.

“Can I thank you, G, for tonight, and for… well, for everything.” Her breath was warm on Geillis’s cheek. “You’re a real friend and, amazingly sober, I must say even after…”

Claire tried, unsuccessfully, to peer at her watch over Geillis’s shoulder. “...even after ...after lots and lots and lots of cocktails.”

Geillis kissed her cheek. “Nae bother, I didna have a lot tae drink. I knew ye wasna a big fan of the whole hen party thing and I wanted tae make sure this night was jes’ right fer ye. Now let’s get ye home. Back tae yer fiancé.”

“Thank you, G… have I already said that?” Claire started to follow Geillis out of the bar then stopped abruptly, putting her hand to her mouth.

“What’s the matter? Ye’re no’ going tae puke are ye?” Geillis quickly began to search for a plastic bag.

“No… no, I’m not puking, but, G, imagine… it’s all thanks to you that I’m here, getting married to Jamie. If you hadn’t given him my number in ED, we would never have got together, never dated, never fallen in love…” Claire sniffed and rubbed her eyes.

“Och, away wi’ ye. I tell ye, the pair of ye were born fer each other. Ye would have met either way. Mebbe me giving him yer number was jes’ a shortcut.” Geillis gave Claire a quick hug before pulling away. “Now come on, the taxi driver will have started his meter and I am no’ paying any more than the price I agreed on the phone!”

************

Jamie glanced at his watch as the doorbell rang. He yawned, stretched and switched the television off before walking to the front door.

The doorbell rang again. As he unlocked the door, it rang for a third time, a prolonged, urgent ring. He opened the door to find Claire giggling as she leant against the door frame, her shoulder pressing into the doorbell.

He waved to Geillis in the waiting taxi before following Claire into the hall. She spun around and flung herself into Jamie’s arms, nearly causing him to lose his balance. Ignoring his sudden exhalation of air, she kissed him noisily on the lips before nuzzling his neck and blowing raspberries against his skin.

“A good night, I take it. And a wee bit drunk too, are we?” Jamie ventured a guess.

Claire pulled away, indignantly. “No, I’m not. Are you? You seem a bit unsteady there on your feet.”

“Well, what have you been drinking then?”

“Oh, some absolutely scrummy cocktails. I started with a slow comfortable screw. Have you had one of those?”

Jamie smiled. “Frequently.”

“How about a slow comfortable screw against the wall?”

“No’ fer a while.”

“And I had a silk panties martini… to match what I’m wearing.” Claire undid the zip on her jeans to confirm.

“Then I had a couple of flaming orgasms… mmm, so good.”

“Ah so, multiple orgasms. I tend tae stick tae the one, myself.”

“And I think there might have been a slippery nipple in there somewhere,” she hiccuped.

Jamie steered Claire to the stairs. “You head up tae bed, Sassenach.”

“Are you not coming too?” She pouted.

“I’ll be up in a minute. Just locking up.”

***************

Armed with a bottle of water and two paracetamol for the morning, Jamie entered the bedroom, fully expecting Claire to be fast asleep and snoring. On the contrary, she was still very much awake, lying on top of the covers, clad only in a red thong and matching red bra. The rest of her clothes lay in a heap on the floor.

“See, red silk panties,” she giggled, flicking the elastic on the thong.

“Aye, not quite silk though, jes’ a wee bit of lace as far as I can see. Now, come on, get in tae bed. Ye’ll be needing yer sleep.”

“But I’m not tired,” she protested as she scrambled onto her hands and knees and worked her way down the bed to where Jamie stood. “C’mon, Mr. Fraser, let’s have some fun.”

She knelt up and let her hands run around the waistband of his jogging bottoms, her fingernails lightly raking the skin.

Jamie inhaled deeply. “Claire, Sassenach, no. I dinna want tae take advantage of ye when ye’re drunk.”

“Jamie,” Claire’s voice was stern. “I may have had a few to drink, but I am fully aware of what I am doing...”

She edged the waistband down over his hips, his cock already standing proud. She ran a finger down its length, watching Jamie’s stomach muscles tense as he tried to calm the sensations she was arousing. He could feel her breath warm against his thigh.

“... And so it seems does our friend here. Don’t fight me, Jamie. I’ve had a plastic penis in my mouth for most of the evening. Now it’s time for the real thing.”

Grabbing his buttocks, she pulled Jamie closer to her before bringing one hand to cup his balls, massaging them in her palm. She wrapped her other hand around the base of his cock as she took him fully in her mouth.

Jamie closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to succumb to Claire’s ministrations. The warmth of her mouth as she rhythmically worked up and down, her tongue stroking and caressing made him harder than he thought possible. He entwined his fingers in her wild curls, encouraging her to take more of his length into her mouth.

He pulled back slightly as he felt his excitement building, keen to try and prolong the experience. Claire moaned, a small mew of disappointment, and brought him closer to her again, resuming the same relentless rhythm.

His breathing grew ragged. “Sassenach,” he groaned. “Sassenach, I canna … I canna…”

She felt his release, warm in her mouth as he stilled then withdrew. Jamie, panting, opened his eyes to see Claire, kneeling back on her heels, her curls in wild disarray, cheeks flushed, breasts nearly escaping from the confines of her bra. Her nipples, dark and erect, were visible through the red lace, her panties clearly damp.

She smiled, a lazy smile of self satisfaction as she swallowed then licked her lips. Jamie gasped at this wanton image in front of him.

“Sassenach,” his voice was husky. “I’ve an idea. Can I get our special camera?”

Claire nodded. “Ooh, yes. I’ve a couple of ideas myself, Mr. Fraser.”

As Jamie went in search of the camera, Claire lay back on the pillows and laughed. All those tips tonight for a successful sex life, she told herself, and I don’t think we’ll need any help in that area… ever.

#outlander fan fiction #outlander fan fic #Road To The Aisles #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #modern au #chapter 20

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bethhxrmon · 4 years ago

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do flowers exist at night? -chapter eight

Chapter Eight: A Turkey Dance

Pairing: Steve Harrington x OC

Chapter Summary: After a little while, Thanksgiving has finally decided to show up. It causes Annie to have some realizations about everything around her.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of trauma, dysfunctional family stuff

A/N: Howdy, not gonna lie, I’ve run out of motivation over the last month. I’ve got up through chapter sixteen written, but reblogs and comments are the best way to help me get that motivation! Also, school’s starting for me tomorrow so that is definitely going to come before this fic. Anyways, if you’d like to see the other parts of the fic you can go here.

~*~*~*~

Thanksgiving was ordinarily a good enough holiday. There was food and a parade to watch plus a cute dog show afterwards. Annie's parents were never into football, so she never had to put up with watching the sport. However, this year was a little different than other years.

By a little different, that meant it was a huge difference. Initially, she assumed that it would just be her mom and herself sitting in front of the television and watching whatever was on.

Now, Annie wasn't against her mom dating someone else, but introducing the guy at Thanksgiving just felt a little bit weird to her. It could have been worse, though. The guy could have been a complete dick and Annie would have purposely made the day a living hell for everyone.

Fortunately, Scott Clarke was a nice guy. There wasn't any way around it. A part of Annie wanted to just hate him, but it was easy to like the middle school science teacher. How he and her mom met was beyond her, but her mom seemed pretty happy about it.

Steve told her to just give him a call if things got unbearable. His parents would be around, but he swore he would make up an excuse to help her out. What were friends for if not saving what was originally a well-liked holiday?

Everything was pretty nice that morning. Annie was working on baking a pumpkin pie and was making some mashed sweet potatoes. That was about the extent of her cooking ability. The pie was easy, she just had to pour a few cans of mix into the premade crust and make sure it didn't burn. The sweet potatoes were just the anomaly of being able to cook one thing decently enough.

"I've heard a lot about you from your mom," Scott said.

Annie nodded as she poured in the pie filling, "Yeah, I've heard a bit about you from some kids I know."

"Which kids?"

"Um... I think they're your AV kids? Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Will, and I think Max is in there, right?"

"Yes, you'd be correct," he grinned, "They're a bright group. How do you know them?"

"Um..." she paused, realizing she couldn't explain the real circumstances, "I helped babysit them a couple of times."

It was obvious that Scott was trying and Annie had to give him some credit. From how the kids talked about him, he was a smart and nice guy. While she wasn't ordinarily inclined to trust the judgement of a bunch of eighth graders, she trusted those kids.

While this wasn't the Thanksgiving Annie had counted on, it wasn't warranting a call to Steve. However, when the doorbell rang, a few alarms automatically went off in Annie's brain.

She went over to open the door and saw none other than Carter Hardwick. Already, she could feel her stomach twisting in knots. As nice of a guy as Scott was, she doubted that he dad would take well to him. Hypocritical yes, but what was a shitty parent if not just that?

"Anne, aren't you happy to see me?" he asked.

Annie forced a smile, "Uh yeah! Just um- just a bit unexpected."

"Well, I wrote."

Maybe she shouldn't have burned those letters after all.

Begrudgingly, she let her dad into the house. What other choice did she have? If her mom wanted to force him out, she wouldn't stop her. However, Annie was all too aware that she had no way of telling anyone what to do in this situation.

"And who's this?" her dad asked, nodding at Scott.

"Mom's new boyfriend," she said, her brain simply short-circuiting.

How couldn’t that have happened? The way her dad stared at the other man made Annie want to crawl into a hole. Thankfully, her mom came out into the living room. There was no hiding the look of disdain on her face. It was even more obvious when her mom asked him to talk with her for a moment.

He shrugged, "I'm sure whatever you have to say to me can be heard by our daughter and whatever asshole you've got over here."

"I'm speaking to you alone," her mom insisted.

That left the living room with only Scott and Annie. They both decided to just watch the dog show going on in front of them. Erik hopped onto the arm of the couch and Annie busied herself with petting him.

"So what's that little guy's name?" he asked.

"Oh, this is Erik. He's the family cat, but he likes me the most. Probably because I'm the most relaxed one in the house, I guess."

He nodded, "Poor, poor Erik."

"Wait... you've read Phantom?"

"Well, of course. It has some of the most amazing scientific ideas for the time!"

She thought a moment before nodding, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

While Annie wasn't sure what to think of her mom dating someone, she was at least glad this guy was nicer than her dad. The contrast was obvious when her parents both walked out.

"Anne, you'll be happy to know your good-ole dad's gonna be here for the day," her dad said as she dodged him ruffling her hair.

"You're not my dad," she said plainly before her eyes widened a bit.

That wasn't something she counted on coming out of her mouth, but she wasn't about to take it back. Technically, she was right. Neither of her parents were biological. Still, they took care of her like they were. Except, with all the things her dad had said and done in the past, she knew she could hold that lack of biology against him as long as she wanted.

"Go to your room!" he snapped.

Annie let out a laugh, "Are you serious?! You don't even live here! If you actually wanted to be a good dad you would... you- well you would pay the damn child support once in a while! You only have to make thirteen of them!"

"Annette!" her mom said, "I think you could use a moment to cool off."

That was the nicest way her mom could tell her to go to her room. Maybe she hit a nerve or two, but Annie knew she hadn't said anything that wasn't already true. There wasn't any use in arguing, though. Not when she almost wanted out of the situation. She picked up her cat and took him to her room with her.

This was the exact sort of thing she was supposed to call Steve over. So she took the phone in her room and dialed his number. As it turned out, Steve did have a phone in his room. One which they had both completely neglected that night a few weeks ago. A night she wasn't over by any means. She hadn't told her mom about any of it, and she knew that she probably would never be able to explain it. It still stuck around in her head. The inter-dimensional and the real things that happened just wouldn't leave.

She let out a sigh as she heard the phone ringing and she twisted the phone cord around her finger.

"Hello?"

"Steve?"

"It's not even noon yet," he said, almost laughing, "That bad already?"

Annie chewed on her lip, "My dad made a surprise visit... I kinda told him he's not my dad and to pay the child support for once."

"Oh shit..." he sighed, "I'd try to come and get you but um- my parents sprung a surprise trip to my aunt's on me."

"That- that's fine, I get it. You gotta see your family."

"If it's any consolation, I'll wish I'm not there. I'd really prefer to hang out with you."

She smiled a bit, "That's nice... I'd rather hang out with you too. Of course, I'd rather hang out with a cockroach than be stuck here."

"Well, if I make it back early enough, maybe I can make something work," he suggested.

"I'd like that a lot."

There was shouting in the background of Steve's end, "Uh I gotta go. Good luck, though."

"Thanks um- you too."

Then the phone clicked off and Annie set her own on the receiver. Admittedly, she almost counted on hanging out with Steve. Aside from the kids, there really wasn't anyone else she spent a lot of time with.

The thought of him trying to come over later did make her feel special. Not that she was about to say so. It was normal, they sort of just had each other. She didn't have any friends to begin with and she knew Steve would sooner die than third wheel his ex all the time.

Aside from sort of being social outcasts and dealing with the Upside Down together, what did they have in common in the first place? Maybe they had a similar sense of humor and similar music tastes, but almost anyone could have those things in common. They were just friends and Annie knew that didn't mean they had to do anything more than that.

Either way, Annie knew that she wasn't going to bother with leaving her room until someone told her to. Continuing on with her reading of War and Peace was fine with her. Contrary to her dad's opinions, she thought it was an interesting book.

A part of her was almost too invested in some of the drama of it all. What with Natasha now being tempted by Anatole as Sonya tried to be a good and loyal cousin as well as a friend. It had her reading the pages as quickly as she could. Though, a huge factor in getting through the book as quickly as she was had to be waking up in the middle of the night.

The nightmares didn't happen every night, but it wouldn't have made much of a difference either way. It was too much for her to deal with. While Steve wanted her to talk about it with him, she still didn't say much about it.

"Annie?" her mom knocked at her door.

She marked her book, "What's up?"

The door opened as her mom stepped inside, "You know, I think we still need a couple of things from the grocery store."

"Wait," she looked over the list being handed to her, "I thought we had-"

Her mom cut her off, "We're gonna run out soon. Just take your time, alright? There's no rush."

"Oh, okay."

This happened often enough when they lived in New York. If tensions got really high, her mom would send her out somewhere to do something. That didn't mean she missed out on all the yelling and arguing, though.

Still, it was enough for Annie to take the hint and grab her red, fleece-lined jacket off a hanger and left the house without saying anything. She was almost positive they didn't need any of this. They had more than enough butter and Annie could barely stand Stove Top stuffing in the first place.

She walked rather aimlessly, though she was headed toward the town. If she were too aimless, she would have ended up in the woods. As bright as the day seemed, she still didn't trust herself to go there alone.

Besides, she still hadn't found her switchblade since trying to fight Billy. A part of her thought it was possible he had it. Though, it was just as likely that it was in some obscure place of the Byers' house. She didn't want to go back there any time soon. It wasn't that she had anything against the family, but the thought of going back into the house or stepping into the living room? That was out of the question.

A part of her wished she had some way to actually make Billy pay for everything he did. The problem was that there wasn't any way to do that without giving away everything else. Not that she could think of, anyway. And who knows, maybe she didn't interpret everything properly. Maybe he hadn't done anything.

Her hands clenched inside her jacket pockets as she continued walking. A part of her wanted to tell her mom at the very least. The closest that got was when her mom saw the scar that the cut she got on her face left behind. She blamed it on getting into a bit of an altercation with Erik.

After walking for some time, Annie found her way to a small park. Someone was sitting on the swings. She could see the red hair from pretty far off, but she was unsure of who it was. Though, the closer she got, the more certain she was.

"Max? What're you doing out here?" she asked, sitting on the other swing.

Max looked over to her, "Um... just hanging out."

"None of the guys are available?" she asked.

Max shook her head, "It's Thanksgiving, everyone's with their families."

"Yeah? Well, then what're you doing out here? It's a bit chilly."

"Um..." Max let out a sigh, "You know how the whole divorced kid thing goes. It's my first Thanksgiving without my dad around and Neil and Billy are... um... they're being themselves."

Annie frowned, "They're not hurting you are they? Because if they are I-"

"No, not like that. After I almost hit Billy's nuts with that bat he's been a bit better. It still um- it scares me sometimes, though.

She nodded, "I guess that makes sense. I wish I could look forward to my dad showing up out of nowhere today, but that guy's a dick."

"Oh, was it just gonna be you and your mom?"

"And your science teacher."

"Mr. Clarke?!" Max exclaimed, laughing, "You're kidding!"

She laughed along with Max, "I'm not- I mean, having my mom date some guy like this is weird, but- but I guess things could be a lot worse, you know? Well, before my dad showed up and managed to make it awkward for everyone."

"Oh, that sucks. Sorry, I just don't know what else would help you."

Annie shook her head, "That's alright. You're, like, thirteen? You don't need to worry about helping me."

The both of them stuck around and talked to each other for a while. They managed to avoid actually talking about the awful things Billy had done. Likely because neither of them were prepared for a conversation like that. At the very least, Annie knew that just thinking about talking about that with anyone was enough to make her nauseous.

Eventually, it was for the best that Max went home, so Annie walked her back before turning around and heading back to her own house. She would have to face everything there eventually. But maybe her dad decided to buzz off by that point.

There was no such luck, though. As awkward as it was for her, she gave Scott props for not finding an excuse to get out of the house until the meal was over. If she were him, she would have faked a family emergency in a heartbeat. Though, it was possible that he was just a better person than she was. Lots of people were.

"So, Anne, I've heard you're reading War and Peace," her dad said as they all sat around eating pie.

Annie nodded, "Yep."

"I don't understand why you would bother. I've already told you all the reasons it's a waste of time."

Annie set down her fork before looking over at him, "Maybe I started to realize you compulsively lie about everything. Oh, or maybe I realized people have different tastes from you. Hm, maybe it's the fact that I couldn't give a shit about your opinion of me after everything you've done."

"Language, young lady! Elsa, is this really what you're letting our daughter get away with?"

"I'm not your kid! If I were, you wouldn't send me a ten page letter about how I-"

"Cut it out! Both of you," her mom snapped, "Look, I'm not about to kick my own daughter out of my house, but Carter? I've done nothing but try to make this day decent and, frankly, I'm tired of that. I need you to leave."

Annie focused on her pie as her mom and dad headed out of the kitchen. It beat getting told to quiet down or to stop rambling. Although, it was clear the enjoyment of silence wasn't mutual.

"This pie is great," Scott told her.

She forced a smile, "Thanks... my mom ended up doing most of the work this year, though."

"You know, I hope you don't think I'm intruding on anything. I know this wasn't the best time to try and introduce myself."

"Look, I'm gonna be honest with you. Having my mom date someone is super weird, but I don't hate you. That being said, if you even so much as think about hurting my mom, I'll find a way to make your life a living hell."

Eventually, Annie was able to go back to her room for reasons other than getting into it with her dad. It was nearly midnight and she was focused on the book in front of her as she sat in her bed. There wasn't any school the next day, so she didn't worry about what time she went to bed.

Her distracted state didn't last long when she heard something knock on the window. When she looked out she only saw a shadowy figure outside and her eyes widened. Though, looking closer, it was obviously just Steve.

She opened the door, though she did so a bit sheepishly. How could she have been so easily scared by her closest friend? Steve slid in quietly, though there was a bit of tumbling in since her bed was right under her window. If he got his shoes on her light grey comforter, she would have probably screamed.

He grinned, "Told ya I'd come over."

"Steve, I- I wish you'd told me first," she said.

His smile faded a bit, "I can leave if-"

"No, sorry, just," she sighed, "I don't know, everything just really sucks right now."

There was a long pause before Annie let herself say what happened that day. She wished today could have been normal. That every day could be normal. If that meant her life was boring then so be it. Maybe all the boring people had it right.

"That's really shitty," Steve said, looking at her.

"Yeah."

"Hey, maybe it'll get better."

"Maybe."

A few more minutes and Steve was doing everything he could to get Annie to laugh. It took a solid half hour to get a real laugh out of her, but he did it. After getting her a bit more distracted, they ended up talking about everything except the things they should have probably talked about.

Instead, it meant both of them staying up until the clock in Annie's room read that it was nearly three in the morning. It was around that point that Steve passed out in the chair next to her desk and Annie was only partially on the bed with her head and torso laid out on the carpet and her legs on the mattress.

Tag List (lmk if you want on): @dungeons-and-demodogs @nxncywheeler @ilovebucketbarnes

#steve harrington #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x oc #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 3 #stranger things 2 #stranger things x original character #stranger things x oc #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #dfean?

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7-wonders · 5 years ago

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Everything All At Once

Summary: Summers are supposed to be fun, not stressful. Whatever deity is pulling the strings in your life never got that memo, apparently.

Word Count: 3651

A/N: Sorry for how long it’s taken me to post this! Life has been crazy lately. Enjoy, and if you did I would love if you left a like, comment, or reblogged!

The process of moving, while normally quite stressful, is made simple with magic on your side. Boxes are packed according to room in a matter of minutes, dirty floors are cleaned with a glance, and the need for a moving truck is eliminated when items can just be transmuted to your new home. Even dealing with the bigger pieces of furniture that you no longer need, such as your bed and the couch, is an easy task when your new Antichrist roommate can just snap his fingers and send them to a thrift store in need. That last act is done much to Michael’s chagrin, who presents the admittedly tempting option of dropping them on your enemies. In mere hours, your once-full apartment is now completely empty. You’d be lying, however, if you said you were going to miss it. If anything, you’ll miss the certain sentimental value that your first apartment holds within its walls, but the cons of this place (a shower that never heats up, testy thermostat, that one time there was a family of mice living under your kitchen sink, and so much more) far outweigh any pros that could convince you to stay.

Adjusting to living with Michael full-time, however, proves to be the main challenge of your move. Just redecorating your room caused his face to turn a sickly shade of white, horrified that the once-pristine black and silver color scheme has been taken over by tapestries and fairy lights. It was especially painful for him to comply with your request to remove the large pentagram on one of the walls, but you suspect he did it because he doesn’t want to make you mad. He’s already aware of just how monumental a concession of living with him was, and he would rather not push his luck. Your new living arrangement, though, is going to be the only victory you give him if you have anything to say about it.

“No school for three months, then?” Michael had asked when you were hanging clothes up in your closet.

“Thankfully.”

“So I suppose I’ll be seeing a lot more of you since you won’t be darting in and out between classes.” His tone was all too hopeful, and you hid a smirk at the meaning that he wasn't doing a good job of hiding.

“Well yeah, when I’m not working.” You weren’t looking at him, but you knew that his jaw was clenched tightly.

“Why would you be working? You’re aware of how much money I have at my disposal; there’s no logical reason why you need to have a job.”

“How else am I going to pay you rent?” He breathed in harshly through his nose, and you buried your face is a shirt to keep from laughing.

“Excuse me? You--you don’t have to pay me rent, (Y/N), you’re my wife.”

“You’re letting me live with you, it’s the least I could do.”

“If,” Michael stopped, choosing his words carefully, “if that’s what you would like to do, then I suppose I cannot stop you.”

“Thank you!” you said cheerfully, going back to the task at hand while humming a song that had been stuck in your head.

It’s not like you’re that determined to keep paying rent now that you live with Michael. In fact, if this was any other person and not the Antichrist insisting that you don’t need to pay to live on their property, you would happily oblige. With Michael, though, things have to be made a little difficult for him. Ever since the contract negotiations during your first weekend at what you’ve come to refer to as Langdon Manor, you had remained adamant that nothing would change just because you were now bonded in unholy matrimony. For the most part, that has remained the case. It’s also just fun to see how mad you can make him before he needs to go be alone in his office, but that’s besides the point.

Nannying, although not glamorous work, pays better than any other job you’ve had. Getting to look after cute children is also a plus, and they keep you busy enough where there’s never a dull moment. The two kids that you nanny, sisters Maggie and Sarah, love going to the pool and playing make believe. They play so well together that you often find yourself just reading a book and keeping an eye on them while they decide to run a daycare or start a school. Easy work, even if the hours are sometimes less than ideal. Their parents, a doctor and a police officer, work odd hours and have a penchant for date nights on Fridays, which is often their only time off without the kids. It’s not an inconvenience to you; extra hours equal extra money, and the girls go to sleep early enough that you can just watch videos on your phone until they arrive home.

The only one who has a problem with your hours is Michael, of course. You’ve suspected since the house party three weeks ago that he’s been trying to figure out how to ask you out on another date, but obstacles have managed to shake up any plans he may have. He’s not the most subtle, asking you on every Wednesday what your plans are for Friday while trying too hard to look like he’s not invested in your answer. By this week, your third straight Friday date night shift, he’s over it.

“But tomorrow you don’t work, right?” Michael asks from the speakerphone. Your phone is resting on the kitchen counter, the girls in the living room while you make a dinner of chicken and rice for everybody.

“Nope,” you say, leaning back to make sure the girls are still watching their movie instead of beating each other over the head.

“We’re having a movie night tomorrow.”

The tone of finality in Michael’s voice makes you laugh. “A movie night? Michael, have you ever even seen a movie before?”

“Yes, (Y/N), I have seen a movie before.” You can almost hear how he’s rolling his eyes right now. “You can pick the movies, and I’ll worry about the snacks?”

“No. Knowing you, your snacks will be something like pickled eyeballs washed down with a tall glass of ice cold blood. I’ll be the one in charge of snacks.” You can’t resist slipping a joke in there, and Michael sighs heavily.

“Fine. I’ll see you when you get home?”

“Yep, bye.” You hang up the phone curtly when the oven beeps, more focused on pulling the chicken out than crafting a sincere goodbye.

Turning around to put the pan down so you can slice the chicken, it’s not at all surprising to see the girls sitting at the table and staring at you. The two love to eavesdrop, especially when it comes to people talking on the phone.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Sarah asks, her blonde curls bouncing in her ponytails.

“No, he’s not, and you shouldn’t be listening in on other people’s conversations.” It’s impossible to be serious, and a smile plays on your lips as you dish up three plates and put them on the table.

Right as everybody starts to eat, Sarah gasps and bolts up from her chair. “I forgot Aunt Stephanie!” You look at Maggie for an answer as Sarah runs off, but the older girl just rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“Do you have an aunt coming over? Your mom didn’t tell me anyone else was going to be here tonight,” you ask.

“No, it’s a picture that Sarah keeps in her room, sometimes she likes to have it with her.” Sarah comes back as Maggie explains her sister’s actions, clutching a framed photograph to her chest. Setting it down next to her, you see the senior portrait of a smiling blonde girl staring back at you. Her hair is crimped in some places and straight in others, reminding you of the 90s, and she’s wearing classic goth makeup.

“She’s pretty,” you compliment, smiling as Sarah digs in.

“She’s up in Heaven, so we never met her,” Sarah replies in that easygoing tone that all young children use to reveal information in.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say awkwardly, not really sure how to respond.

“Dad hardly knew her, either,” Maggie retorts. “He was little when she was killed.”

“Your aunt was killed?”

Maggie nods, smirking since she knows something you don’t (ten year olds are going to be the death of you), “uh huh, she died in that school shooting, the one at Westfield High School?”

“Well, at least you get to hear some neat things about her from your family.”

The girls both nod and go back to eating their food, but you just stare down at your full plate, pushing the food around with your fork as your hands shake imperceptibly. Like a puzzle, the pieces all click together. You nanny for the Boggs family, the patriarch of which had a sister named Stephanie, who was killed in the Westfield High massacre. The massacre that was perpetrated by the unwilling sperm donor from which Michael sprung, Tate Langdon. Everybody knows about the infamous Westfield shooting in the way that everybody knows about Columbine or Sandy Hook. You just didn’t know that the family of one of the victims was now employing you.

It’s something that sticks with you long after the girls have gone to bed, and even as you drive home after their parents (the Boggs’, you remind yourself) arrive back from their date. Whether Tate was influenced by the Devil or not, he is still ultimately responsible for the choices that he made. This legacy, the dark thoughts and the murders and the horrible things, extends far beyond Michael. Tate may consider Michael to be the penultimate evil, one who he could never be associated with, but it’s true when they say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Michael’s still awake when you get home, having gotten in the habit of waiting up for you since you still lived at your old apartment and he would wait for your text to let him know you had made it safely. He’s sitting in the main living room (of which there are three), reading a book and petting your cat, who’s curled up peacefully on his lap. You toss your shoes and bag in your room before sitting down next to him, picking up your now-disgruntled cat and cuddling her to your chest.

“What are you reading?” you ask him, not able to see the cover that’s obscured by his hands.

“One of those Harry Potter books you told me to read. I must say, I am enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would.”

“Goblet of Fire, that’s a good one. I’m glad you like it.”

Michael marks his place in the book, setting it down next to him before giving you his full attention. “How was your day at work?”

“It was...okay?” Michael frowns slightly, not pleased with that answer.

“Did something happen? Did the children finally act out with their parents gone?”

“No, it’s nothing like that, it’s just--something they said,” you trail off, picking the skin around your thumbnail instead.

“What did a ten-year-old and a six-year-old say to you that rattled you this much?”

“There’s no easy way to say this, especially when you’re looking at me with those eyes,” you mutter, looking up at him. “Their aunt, I guess, was killed in a school shooting. The Westfield High one?”

Michael looks at you seriously, your recollection of the girls’ words obviously catching him off-guard. “And that got you thinking--” “Not in a bad way or anything, you know I don’t blame you at all for Tate’s sins. It just...got me thinking, I guess.”

“About how much fate must hate us?” Michael laughs bitterly.

“Tate,” you ignore Michael’s last comment, too lost in your thoughts, “loves acting like he had nothing to do with you and that you two couldn’t be more different when, in reality, you’re more alike than he cares to admit. I mean, he shot up a goddamn high school and set his stepfather on fire years before you were born. It really should not have surprised him that he fathered the Antichrist, whether it was willingly or not.”

“I wouldn’t shoot high schoolers, that’s far too messy.”

“I know that, but what I’m trying to get at is that everything, in some sick and twisted way, all comes back to you. I can’t even go to work now without being reminded of you and the carnage that the Langdon name has wrought upon the world. The same name that I carry now too, I guess.” You laugh bitterly at your misfortune, knowing that you can never escape Michael wherever you go.

“You’re being too introspective for your own good tonight, (Y/N). You need to breathe, okay?” Michael takes your hands and forces you to focus on him, making you realize that you’re barely huffing out shaky breaths. “Like you said, you don’t blame me for Tate’s sins. While I have done bad things, they are all to serve a greater purpose. Tate--he was just a dumb kid who hated the world and wanted to kill people in an attempt to feel something.”

You stare at him, repeating Michael’s movements and taking deep breaths while trying to calm down. You’re not sure why this has freaked you out so much: maybe it’s because you’re married to the sire of this mass shooter, or it could be concerns that any future children that you may have with Michael (God forbid that ever happens) would carry a bit of that darkness in their souls.

“We’re having an impromptu movie night tonight,” Michael says suddenly.

“Why not wait until tomorrow?” Maybe it was a distraction tactic, but it certainly did its job.

“You’re too worked up to sleep, and I worry about you being alone with these dark thoughts swirling in your mind. You need something to take your mind off of it.”

“But we don’t even have snacks.”

“Go check in the kitchen, the staff tends to overstock it with food I would never eat. I’ll pick the movie. Put on some clothes to watch a movie,” the thought of sweatpants calls your name at that, “and meet back here in ten?”

You nod, running your hands over your feverish cheeks before standing up and walking towards your room. As you throw on your favorite sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, you can’t stop thinking about your outburst. The knowledge that you were babysitting the nieces of one of Tate’s victims shouldn’t have messed you up like it did, and maybe it’s just you being overly paranoid. Whatever the reason, you’re more than eager to find some candy and popcorn and eat enough sugar to make your thoughts go numb.

There’s plenty of candy hidden on one of the shelves of the staff pantry, and you leave an apologetic note explaining that there was an emergency and promising to restock tomorrow. The popcorn selections are endless, and you end up popping two bags when you can’t decide. Carrying the goodies back to the living room, you see that the lights are dimmed and there’s a nest of pillows and blankets on the couch. The movie’s already cued up on the television, and you smile at the familiar music playing through the speakers.

“Sorcerer’s Stone?” you ask, sitting down next to Michael and pulling a blanket over your lap.

“I’ve never seen the movie before, and since I already finished the book I want to see which one I like better,” Michael explains sheepishly, stealing some popcorn from you and pressing ‘play’ on the remote.

It’s easy to get lost in the magic of Hogwarts, even though Michael keeps making snide comments about how he doesn’t need a wand to do more impressive magic than that. You let them slide, not too bothered about it when you constantly point out differences between the book and the movie. You both finish the first movie strong, albeit with a lack of snacks, and eagerly pop in the second to continue the marathon.

Throughout the course of the movie, you had inched closer to each other ever so slowly. Using the excuse of forgetting to move back after stealing a snack, or having to move in order to have an equal amount of blankets, results in the most awkward move you’ve ever seen someone pull. Michael, under the guise of shifting to get more comfortable, tries to sneakily slide his arm around your shoulders. You notice the ploy almost immediately, and smirk at him when he thinks he’s pulled it off.

“Really? What teen movies have you been watching lately?”

“You knew?” Michael asks, withdrawing his arm from where it’s sitting around your shoulders.

“Michael, that’s one of the oldest tricks in the book. Of course I knew.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks bright red as he looks back at the screen.

“Just because I called you out on it doesn’t mean that I’m not fine with it.” You’re not sure where this sudden streak of bravery came from, but you’re going to take it and run with it. Grabbing his hand, you place it in the previous position of being draped over your shoulders. Leaning into Michael’s side, your head rests on his chest as your eyes go back to the movie. “This good?”

“Yeah, this is--it’s fine,” Michael’s voice comes out at a higher pitch than normal, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

It’s a lot more difficult to continue watching the movie as the night wears on, and you find yourself more focused on just trying to keep your eyes open than on how Harry and his friends are going to figure out what’s petrifying the students. Michael can tell that you’re on the verge of sleep, nudging you gently every time you start to nod off. “I’m up,” you’ll always reply, “just resting my eyes for a sec.” It’s amusing, and he would send you to bed were you not so adamant that you’re completely awake.

“(Y/N)?” Michael calls gently, your tired eyes flickering up to him.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think that...well, do you think that you could ever, uh, like me?”

“I do like you, dumbass. Why else do you think I’m sitting here watching movies with you?”

“I know you like me as a friend, but I mean--could you ever see yourself thinking of me as something more?”

“Is this because of what I said earlier, about your legacy?”

“Yes and no. This is something that has been on my mind for quite some time.” You’re awake now, and you sit up and pull yourself out of his embrace.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“I’d rather we discuss it now,” Michael says carefully, knowing that you’re starting to get stand-offish. “(Y/N), you’re very aware of my feelings for you and that I believe what my father has told me about the two of us. I just want to know--I deserve to know how you feel about me.”

“Do you even know how hard it was for me to trust you after you kidnapped me?” you ask, standing up and clicking the TV off. Michael stands up with you, making sure you don’t run off before he’s gotten some answers.

“I thought we were over that by now!”

“We are, but--”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that you’ve been in love with me from the moment you first saw me, and I don’t even know if I can let myself have romantic feelings for the fucking Antichrist!” The anger in Michael’s eyes is extinguished, replaced with a crushing sadness.

“You told me that you didn’t blame me for how I was born,” he says quietly. You bite your lip, realizing you just hit him in his weak spot.

“I don’t, Michael, but you’ve also done a lot of bad things, you’re doing bad things, and you’ll continue to do bad things.”

“I would never do those bad things to you. Everything I do is to benefit the plan that my father has.”

“But what if one day his plan changes and you have to kill me?” you shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself to protect against the sudden chill in the air. “You can make all of the excuses you want, but at the end of the day you’re still the Devil’s son, murdering and plotting the end of the world.”

You should have stopped long before this, but the words just won’t stop flowing out of you now that you’ve spilled them. Michael runs his hand down his jaw, nodding slowly. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

He’s thrown you off, and you’re sure it’s obvious that he has. “What?” You’re expecting him to yell, throw things, and maybe slap you again. Instead, he’s eerily calm.

“I asked for you to be honest, and you were, so thank you.” He turns to leave, his movements stilting and robotic.

“Michael,” you reach for him, unsure of what you should do.

“Get some sleep, you’ve had a long day.” Michael smiles weakly at you, his hand resting on the door frame. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nod dumbly, mutely, unable to do anything but watch as he leaves. Suddenly, you’re entirely too aware of how he must have felt all the times he wounded you with only his words. It’s a bitter feeling, one that replaces the lingering sweet taste of candy with sour words you had spilled so recklessly. It’s a taste that won’t go away, long after brushing your teeth and falling asleep with the taste of salty tears on your tongue.

/////////////////////////

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#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs imagines #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story imagines

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dboliklover · 5 years ago

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Subaru Easter Smut

Subaru - Pregnant, vanilla(?), overstimulation

Warning: Pregnancy. I know some people have a fear of it (Tbh, so do I, but I’m only afraid of getting knocked up in real life, so I like it in fiction) but just so everyone is aware, this does follow the pregnancy of the reader from conception to the second trimester, so be wary.

Finally got around to continuing this series. Kanato and Azusa are both gonna be left for last, sorry Kanato/Azusa-fuckers. And this is as vanilla as I get, but I needed some soft-core Subaru in my life.

Also,,,,I needed some soft Subaru in my life, so I apologise this isn’t a rough-fuckin’ but I fucking love Subaru so much and he deserves love and happiness in his life-

Please give feedback. I worked SO hard on this and appreciate comments and reblogs and debates/conversations based on my writing! It encourages me to write more.

also:

You have been married to Subaru for two whole years now. It was something which was still difficult for him to believe, every night he fell asleep beside you he expected to wake up the next morning in an empty bed only to find out his life with you had been nothing but a beautiful, hopeless dream.

You knew your husband’s worries and sorrows, and it pained you to know that he carried such immense emotional loads by himself, and so you tried to soothe and assure him to the best of your abilities.

You had some wonderful news for your husband, which you were certain would bring him immense joy, and yet...you also feared his reaction. You’d recently found out about your pregnancy. It was something that caused you the utmost joy when you first discovered your sickness was actually caused by the life growing inside of you.

You knew Subaru would make the ideal father, how could he not? He was...perfect, really - even if he didn’t believe he was.

But you also knew he had a deep-rooted fear of being like his father. You knew, of course, that there was no way in hell he’d ever become such a monstrous man. You knew who you married, and you were more than certain that he would be the best father to ever grace this earth. Nonetheless, this was still a huge step in your marriage - babies were a lot of responsibility, and this would be a whole person that you would both have to care for and love - but it was also a symbol of the deep love between you and Subaru; you literally created life from the love you had for one another.

So, anxiously, you tried to find a way of telling him. It was immensely stressful for you, the worry only piling on with every minute away from him. Should you try and be sly about it? Find a ‘cute’ way of telling him? Just be blunt? So many possibilities and you simply did not know how to tell him.

Thankfully for you, your husband walked into your shared bedroom, the moon slowly rising in the night sky. Like usually, you rose from your position on the bed and rushed over to him to greet him, wrapping your hands around his neck and feeling safe and protected as he pulled you closer, kissing you with sensual gentleness. He was a rough man, but would often treat you like a delicate rose that could be torn at the slightest of harsh touches. Sometimes, he did hurt you - accidentally, of course, and then it would take a lot of convincing from your end to assure him that it wasn’t any major harm. He feared so deeply that he’d harm you and that you’d leave him for it, that if he even as much as caused a small bruise on your perfect skin he would freak out and feel obligated to spend months atoning for something that he did not need to atone for.

In truth, you loved how gentle he could be with you. The only times he ever got rough, sexually, was when he was jealous. You loved those moments too, because gentle or rough, Subaru always managed to bring you the pleasure that you were sure you would never find elsewhere.

“Good evening, darling.” You whispered sweetly to him, your voice soft as your senses were overwhelmed with the scent of your beloved. It took a long time to get him used to the concept of pet names, but eventually, he got used to them. “Good evening…” Subaru sighed, you could tell, without even looking at him, that he was blushing, “...My love.” he said the words with hesitance, and you knew it was because he still couldn’t quite get over the idea of calling you pet names. He was really trying to do so, though, because he knew you enjoyed it.

You felt your levels of anxiety rising, knowing you’d have to confess your pregnancy tonight; you couldn’t keep this from him any longer.

Hesitantly, you pulled away from him, which cause Subaru to worry almost immediately when he saw the anxiety within your eyes.

“Subaru…” You spoke gently, with hesitant uncertainty, before you took his hand in yours and pulled him over to sit on the bed, as you went to get something, telling him to sit and wait.

“I...I have something I have to show you.”

When you came back, you were carrying a little box with you that was tied loosely with a white ribbon. Nervously, you practically shoved it in his face.

Surprised by your sudden, confusing behaviour and the fact you shoved a box in his face, he took it from you and untied the ribbon, letting it fall onto the ground.

You stood, trying to soothe your body from shaking in anxiety. This was a huge step for your marriage, and you just hoped he’d react positively - or even neutrally, just...as long as it wouldn’t be...negative.

His body stiffened and froze as his beautiful eyes widened at the sight of what this little box held within it.

A pregnancy test.

A positive pregnancy test.

Subaru swallowed thickly, and you braced yourself for the worst.

“Is it...is it true?” He asked, looking up at you, his expression fragile and delicate. Unable to speak, you merely nodded your head, trying to smile through your nervousness.

Subaru was silent for several moments, visibly processing the information.

“This is...this is amazing.” He choked up, something he rarely did. You’ve only seen Subaru cry three times before; Once when he broke down in front of you, once on your wedding day, and now.

“S-Subaru?” Your voice was shaky as well, not sure if this was a good or bad sign, but your doubts were soon put to rest as he moved the box out of the way, stood in front of you and pulled you tightly into his chest, you could feel his body shake with suppressed sobs.

Your heart felt so warm as you realised that he was crying from what seemed to be pure happiness. So you hoped, at least. Your own eyes soon filled with tears, and the two of you hold one another in a tight embrace.

You stayed like that for a while, just crying and holding one another until Subaru finally pulled away, and placed his forehead on yours. “...Thank you” Subaru muttered softly, smiling. You have given him the perfect life, and for this, he would be eternally grateful.

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

Over the next several weeks, Subaru was truly the perfect husband, albeit a bit too overprotective. You were hardly even showing, and he was already acting as though you were nine-months-pregnant; refusing to let you do anything remotely physically difficult. This was sweet to begin with, but after a while, the cuteness of it wore off and began to annoy you.

“I’m pregnant! Not dying!” You argued with him, pouting as you laid in bed. Subaru sighed, shaking his head at your (admittedly adorable) complaining. “You need to rest, (Y/N).” He stood his ground as he got dressed, getting ready to go downstairs and get you something to eat. For the first few days having your loving husband bring you breakfast in bed was a novelty and wonderfully exciting. Soon, though, that novelty wore off. You were a bit over a month pregnant, and you weren’t even really showing just yet - you were perfectly capable of making your own meals, cleaning and taking care of yourself. Unfortunately, Subaru did not seem to share that way of thinking and believed that even the slightest straining would cause harm to you and the baby.

“Urgh...Subaru…!” You whined softly, pouting harder, hoping he’d look at you and give in to your request of doing nothing more than just making your own meal.

You could tell your husband was trying with all his might to not give in to your pleas, but his naturally protective instincts demanded he keeps you in bed, safe and sound.

However...he was also always so weak when it came to you, and as such he sighed and gave in.

“...Fine, but only if I’m around. And only until you start showing-” before Subaru could continue, you cut him off with a joyful squeal, thankful that he’d finally allow you to actually do things for yourself again. You crawled out of bed, bad rushed to get dressed as Subaru had to hold himself back from attempting to ‘help’ you.

The idea of you, being pregnant was still something so...beautifully strange and difficult for him to properly wrap his head around. You were pregnant….with a baby. His baby.

Subaru had never really considered having an actual family of his own; he always believed himself to be too fucked up to ever be loved, and he always believed it would be cruel to bring life into such an unforgiving world. But then...he met you, and all that just changed.

He owed so much to you, and he knew that he did not deserve you in the slightest, but yet here you were, so devoted and loving and caring that every single day with you felt like a dream.

Hell, he still couldn’t believe how patient you had been with him, especially when you first met. He was so...violent and aggressive. He supposed he still could be, at times. His hidden inner trauma coming back up every so often, but every time he felt he was falling into the dark, you would be there to hold him up and lead him back into the light. If there was one thing Subaru was grateful for in his whole entire life, it was you.

And now...you’re going to give him the one thing he never thought he’d have. A family.

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

Throughout the rest of your first trimester, Subaru (hesitantly) kept to his promise of allowing you to do things for yourself, much to your joy. Though, by the time your second trimester came along, he quickly became twice as protective as he was before.

You were beginning to show now, your stomach full of growing life. Not to mention; you were absolutely glowing.

It was the point in the pregnancy where you were still happy and the life within you was still an exciting prospect, but before the immense mood swings, swollen feet and sore backs. You’d have some...negative symptoms of course, such as a mood swing here and there (you felt kind of bad with how panicked Subaru looked every time you had one of them and went from laughing to crying to demanding the strangest foods) but Subaru was truly the perfect husband who always helped you past any struggles thus far.

Though….one thing that bothered you immensely was that he seemed afraid to touch you. He’d hold you close and cuddle with you, but it wasn’t the same. He’d always been afraid fo being too rough with you, but now that you were pregnant he suddenly became convinced that the tiniest harsh movement would shatter you like a porcelain doll.

Unfortunately for you, pregnancy was making you rather….well, needy. Specifically, a sexual kind of needy. Your hormones were wild and you were craving your husband to relief you from this sexual struggle.

He’d gotten it into his mind, though, that if he sleeps with you whilst pregnant it’ll somehow cause a tragedy to occur, which truly pissed your hormonal, pregnant self off.

You were not above begging him to fuck you if that’s what it’d take.

So, when he went out to get some of the strange food supplies that you craved, you ‘freshened’ yourself up, making sure to wear some sexy lingerie, that thankfully still fit, but your bra was a tad….tight around your swollen breasts, which would surely begin to lactate any day now. Your panties were low-cut, which was perfect since it outlined your growing stomach full of life. Brushing your hair in a way that made you look like a cute little forest nymph, you climbed on your shared bed after laying it out in a ‘romantic’ way, waiting for him to get back to your bedroom.

When Subaru opened the door to your shared room, he was not prepared to see you, his beloved pregnant wife, laying on the bed in the most arousing position he’s ever seen, hand on your swollen belly. He froze, but then quickly shut and locked your bedroom door, the possessive vampiric instincts raging at the mere thought of any of his brothers seeing you like this. He was really fighting with himself, because, damn, you looked so desirable and he wanted nothing more than to absolutely ravish you at that moment, the carnal need within him to fill you over and over again. But he was also far too afraid of harming you and, as such, he was fighting a self-imposed war.

You noticed this and put your finger to your glossy lips, eyes drooped in a sensual way that was screaming for him to come and fuck you. “Subaru~” You softly moaned out his name, trying to seduce your husband into letting go of whatever fear of harming you he has, trying to appeal to his animalistic side.

“(Y-Y/N)...” He audibly gulped, with every moment it was getting harder for him to resist his internal desires.

“W-What if I hurt you?” He questioned, his voice shaky at the mere idea of such a thing, “-You won’t.” Your tone was sincere, your smile assuring as you opened your arms and moved them to where he was standing. “Please come to me...I need you so much, my love…”

Subaru was hesitant, but yet he also could no longer fight his instincts. Besides, you were looking so sweet and arousing, practically begging him to make love to you.

He walked over to you, and you smiled brightly, your smile only pulling him further in. His unbeating heart seemed to be pounding - no matter how impossible that may be.

You put your hand on his shirt and pulled him down to you, softly crashing your lips against his as you lip-locked. Subaru kissed you gently, with notable delicacy as he did not wish to bring any pain to you. Soon, though, your husband melted into the kiss and you scooted up the bed, so he could climb on top of you.

Your skin was so hot, every touch felt more intense than you remembered. Perhaps it was the fact you hadn’t made love in several months now, or maybe the pregnancy hormones increasing your sensitivity and pleasure, but the way his cold hands felt on your hot skin was mindblowing.

The kisses also became more heated, as you wrapped your hands in Subaru’s snow-white hair, as your arousal rose with every kiss and every sensation.

“S-Subaru..” You moaned out in carnal pleasure, finally getting what you’ve been craving for these past few months. You swore you were beginning to go into withdrawal from not making love to Subaru for so long!

This man had you addicted to him, you loved and adored everything about him.

As he pulled away from your lips, a string of saliva connected the two of you together, your mind hazy and eyes lustful, as you began to undress his shirt, whilst he started to kiss your jaw and neck. Feeling his wet lips on your weak spots brought you to the most euphoric paradise, it was something you never wanted to end.

In the moment of sensuality, Subaru’s possessive instincts demanded him to leave his marks on you, and that was exactly what he did. Love bites covered your neck from top to bottom, you would surely be unable to conceal them after tonight, and that fact only increased his arousal.

How he managed to get such a wonderful, beautiful wife, he had no idea. But you were his wife and he wanted everyone to know that.

Once you finally got his shirt off, you placed your hands all over his chiselled chest, moaning at the feeling of his skin on yours. While your hands were exploring his naked chest, his were moving down the valley of your breasts, to your swollen stomach as he ran his hands over and over your baby bump, feeling nothing but the highest amount of pure happiness as he did so.

Inside you was the life you created together.

“...Our baby.” He growled possessively, as he moved his face down, kissing your breasts, ribcage and then your stomach, leaving hot kisses all over your skin.

By now your core was burning like a deadly fire, demanding your husband’s seed to fill your insides.

“S-Subaru..!” a whine escaped you as he lowered himself from the bed and between your legs, your cunt was now blazing hot and dripping your slick juices. His cold breath contrasted with the flame inside you and was enough to almost make you cum. Your breath hitched and you could feel yourself whining even more for him.

Subaru smirked to himself as he started to eat you out, his tongue thrusting inside and out of you, his speed picking up and eventually he started to not only shove his long, wet tongue in and out but also used his entire mouth to kiss your whole core, sending shivers from your spine down to your entire body.

You chanted his name like a mantra, constantly moaning it out. Hearing your aroused voice only served to increase his libido, as he continued to mercilessly lick you out. You could feel the pressure in your abdomen increase and you came in no time, your high lasting longer than usual. And yet, Subaru did not cease his assault on your core, continuing to suck you dry of your juices, you had long since last track of any sense of time but you were sure he must have been eating you out for at least fifteen minutes, or at the very least it sure felt like it. By the end of it, you had lost track of the times you’ve had an orgasm, but you estimated you must’ve cum at least eight times. Your core was immensely sensitive and raw, but your libido still not nearly satisfied. No, you needed to feel your husbands heat inside you

“Subaru, please! Please just...just make love to me, properly!” Your voice filled with need and longing, and he could no longer hold back. His member was painfully erect and the need to fill you to the brim was overwhelming. Kissing you once more, He hurriedly took off his pants and boxers, and lined himself up with your core.

You pulled him down to kiss you as he thrust into you, both of you loudly moaning into the kiss at the feeling of him inside of you. Your walls were clamped around him so tightly and he had to stop himself from cumming right there and then. You always fit around him so perfectly that he was convinced you were destined for him and just for him.

Slowly thrusting in and out of you causing lewd sighs to escape both your lips in unison as you moved together in impeccable rhythm.

Everything about this was so fucking amazing; from the friction between his cock and your core, from the heat of your body mixed with his, from the constant kisses of love and desire you kept sharing….you always knew you had the perfect marriage, and this proved it.

Eventually, he picked up speed, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him into you deeper. Your swollen breasts bounced roughly as he pounded into you, it was slightly rough but also controlled and not too rough - he was holding himself back because of the baby.

Your shared moans filled your bedroom, and you were so loud you were sure that your moan could be heard throughout the whole manor but neither of you cared about that at this moment.

Subaru placed his head close to your shoulder, biting down and nibbling on your exposed skin as his cock made harmonically animalistic love to you.

Hearing his name escape your red, puffy lips was bringing him so close to his edge.

Your husband always had great endurance, however, you did not. As such, you kept endlessly cumming on his cock, scratching his back roughly out of sheer ecstasy as he relentlessly bruised your walls.

After what must have been almost a full hour, he finally felt himself coming close to his final edge, and he increased his speed, causing one final orgasm from you as he buried himself into you as deep as he could go, his thick, hot seed overflowing inside you.

You were both panting and smiling, as he kissed you again and again after, still not pulling out even as he softened inside you.

“I love you...so fucking much…” The emotion inside him was overwhelming, and you could see the softest tears of love gathering in his eyes. Your hand touched his cheek as you soothed him, and placed his hand on your stomach. “We love you too.”

- Mod Rozalia

ps: this is only been proof-read once, so if you see mistakes hmu! I’ll edit it.

Please give feedback. I worked SO hard on this and appreciate comments and reblogs and debates/conversations based on my writing! It encourages me to write more.

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misharuu · 4 years ago

Text

All You Had To Do Was Ask ; Part One/Four

Fandom: Naruto Shippuden (you only need basic knowledge of the fandom to enjoy this story; only the subplot mentions the canon!)

Pairing: Jiraiya x Naruto

Warnings/Tags: NSFW ; yaoi in future chapters, sickfic, emeto, depression, mental illness, self harm/suicide attempt in future chapters.

Summary: Naruto and Jiraiya have set out on another training journey together. Jiraiya returns from a recon mission to find Naruto sick and injured, slipping deep into the grasps of depression. Emotions are kindled and their dynamic begins to shift and change; can Jiraiya save Naruto before it's too late?

Word Count: 11,218

A/N: so this fic follows the canon storyline up until when Naruto begins training with Jiraiya for the second time, before learning sage mode. rather than having a second, shorter spurt of training they set off on another two year long journey. Naruto is 19 and Orochimaru took on a different vessel which gave them more time to prepare while the Akatsuki focused on the other tailed beasts. Naruto is being tormented by the Nine Tailed Fox and slowly falls into a pit of crippling depression. he stops taking care of himself and has to deal with the consequences once Jiraiya comes back from a 'research' session. drama ensues and eventually Jiraiya and Naruto realize they might need each other more than they had ever expected.

please like, comment, or reblog if you enjoy this fic c:

AO3. FF.

PART ONE: BLOOD

"You're weak. You're a monster. No one could ever love you. Not after what you've done. Not with what you are. You're a fucking disgrace. Jiraiya is just using you. He wants your power. Why do you think he's always off 'researching'? You disgust him. He can't stand being in the same room as you. You killed his prized student. You're a murderer," the Fox snickered, chakra glowing a deep dark crimson. Naruto sat in the shallow water, his hands pressed over his ears. He wouldn't listen. He wanted to tear out his eardrums so he couldn't listen. Even now he knew he was dreaming, but it stung the same because he knew the words were true.

———————

Naruto's eyes snapped open, waking with a start. A dull throb formed behind his eyes and he let out a shaky breath. A cold sweat coated his body and a chill seeped up his spine. He shivered and pulled the covers closer to his neck, wrapping himself up tight. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pressure in his head away. Suddenly a sharp pain spread throughout his stomach like a wildfire, deep and twisting. He winced and rolled onto his side, but the sudden movement caused his vision to swim. He groaned and fought back the bile rising in his throat, swallowing hard. Just as he thought he was about to lose control the door slammed open. Jiraiya cheerily walked into the room, loudly dropping his pack next to the door. He stomped through the room and stopped at the window next to Naruto's resting spot. He flung the blinds opens and spun on his heels to face his student. "Rise and shine, kid! It's nearly noon!" he beamed, giving Naruto a light shake with his foot. Naruto pulled the covers over his face as the sunlight assaulted his eyes.

"S-Sensei -" he started but his voice betrayed him. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Sensei, I don't think I can train today."

Jiraiya let out a hearty laugh, "come on kid! I didn't think you'd quit that easily!" he made his way to their closet and pulled out Naruto's clothes, spreading them on the bedspread over his feet. "You've been resting all night, time to get a move on!" he smirked, looking at the lump under the blanket. "Plus!" he added happily, "my research is done for now. I'll tell ya what; I'll watch you train," if that's what it'll take to get you out of bed, he finished in his head.

Naruto perked up at this. He'd been begging Jiraiya to watch him train for weeks. Months, even. Before he even started his sage training. Truth be told he was starting to feel hurt. He'd been alone his entire life; shunned and outcast like trash due to the fact that he was the Nine Tailed Fox’ vessel. That wasn't anything new. But Jiraiya filled a spot in his heart that had been missing. He made Naruto feel like he wasn't so alone. But as soon as they left to train for the second time Naruto felt like Jiraiya quickly grew tired of him. Naruto wound up spending most of his time training alone, and Jiraiya was usually off ‘researching’. Sometimes he'd train so hard that he'd pass out and his teacher wouldn't even notice, leaving him out overnight in the cold and rain. Naruto was beginning to feel more alone than ever. His heart constantly ached, but he kept pushing himself. He wouldn't stop until he was strong enough to bring Sasuke home. But the current pressure and stress was taking it's toll. The Nine Tailed Fox chakra was healing him slower and slower; at this point he felt like he was healing even slower than a normal person would. And his mental health was struggling. He felt himself slipping into the void of depression and anxiety, desperate for some real human interaction. He wasn't going to let a stupid headache ruin his chance to make Jiraiya proud.

Jiraiya watched as a puff of yellow hair began to emerge from the blanket. His smile faded slowly as he got a full view of Naruto. He was as pale as a ghost; his hair was limp and stuck to his forehead with sweat. His red rimmed eyes were glazed over and unfocused, and he looked much too thin.

"Really? You mean it?" he asked weakly, pulling himself up. He staggered a bit but was able to steady himself. He couldn't let himself ruin this. Not now. Not for some stupid cold. Jiraiya was prepared to tell Naruto to get back into bed, but with the way he cheered up at the mention of watching him train he knew he couldn't pull the rug out from under the kid. Jiraiya huffed, tossing the clothes on the bedspread into Naruto's hands.

"Yeah, I mean it. But first we're going to get some food. With all the growing you've been doing you're starting to get a bit thin, you look like a twig," Jiraiya masked the worry in his voice with a joke. Naruto let a small smile grow on his face as he gripped his clothes in his hands.

Jiraiya looked around the room nonchalantly. He admittedly had been quite busy lately; he told Naruto he was 'researching,' but in reality he was trying to gain intel on the Akatsuki. It had been at least a week since he'd slept in on actual mattress, let alone checked up on Naruto. He knew the boy always pushed himself to the limit but his optimistic nature and sticktoitiveness kept him going, and tough love was Jiraiya's signature teaching method. He was starting to think that method wouldn't be as effective for someone like Naruto, but the kid needed to grow up. He was almost twenty and was still constantly seeking approval from anyone who would give him the time of day. He had to learn how to satisfy his own needs. But as Jiraiya looked around the room he didn't see the usual litter of snack wrappers and ramen containers that he'd become accustomed to. All he saw were scrolls, blood stained clothing soaking in a soapy basin, and... was that sake?

Jiraiya let out a heaving sigh, "c'mon kid, lets get some food into you."

The thought of food made Naruto's stomach turn. He had to fight down a gag that threatened to escape his lips. He covered it up by clearing his throat and plastering on a hollow smile. He gripped the clothes in his hands tightly and made his way to the bathroom to clean up. He let the door click behind him as he gingerly lifted his night shirt over his head, wincing as the dried blood on his ribs stuck to the fabric of his shirt. He knew he was training too hard, pushing himself to the limit every day. Each day he seemed to have less and less energy, and it took less and less time for him to become exhausted. He had started to become sloppy, getting injured more often than not. He let out a shaky sigh as he turned to face the sink. Naruto almost jumped when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He had dark bags under his eyes that were accentuated by the pale sheen of his skin and he could see his ribs beginning to poke out. He frowned at himself, looking away with shame. Naruto discarded his shirt into the corner and pulled on his fresh one, zippering his jacket slowly. As he bent down to pull up his pants a sudden wave of dizziness threatened to knock him on his ass so he quickly leaned against the wall and slid down, allowing his head to rest on his knees. He took a few shuddering breaths, trying to steady the clenching pain in his stomach. 'Useless. Dirty. Unclean. Monster,' the voice in his head teased, sending his heart rate skyrocketing. Naruto bit his lip in an attempt to stop the tears. He was sick and weak. Usually he could keep the intrusive thoughts in his head at bay, but in his weakened state he was having a hard time suppressing them. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled himself up using the bathroom counter, turning on the cold tap. He splashed his face with water, allowing his mask to slip back on, cementing his mental walls firmly in place.

While Naruto was in the bathroom Jiraiya took a moment to do a more thorough search of the room. He couldn't find any evidence of food wrappers or take out boxes, but he tried to humor himself by thinking that his student was just eating out a lot. The scrolls spread across the floor detailed some advanced techniques; additional chakra natures and expert chakra control. Techniques Naruto should have waited for Jiraiya's help with. The older man frowned as his eyes slid over the sake bottle. He quietly picked up the bottle and gave it a gentle shake; empty. As he stood in the empty room curiosity got the better of him. He sneakily padded over to the bathroom door, hovering his ear against the cool painted wood. At first he only heard silence, but suddenly he heard short, shallow, uneven breaths followed by what sounded like a choked off sob. Jiraiya's heart jumped into his throat and he raised his hand to knock on the door to check on Naruto. Just as his knuckles were about to rap against the door he heard the sink turn on. He leapt back from the door in time for it to swing open, having just enough time to spin on his heels and act as if he was thumbing over a scroll.

Naruto glared at Jiraiya suspiciously before slipping on his sandals.

"Alright, kid, lets go," Jiraiya swung the door open and held it for Naruto as he exited. Naruto looked up at his teacher and gave him one of his trademark boyish grins. Jiraiya felt taken aback about the fact that Naruto was able to hide his emotions as well as he could; after he cleaned himself up he almost looked normal, if not for his puffy eyes and lean physique. Normally he'd brush that off as a long night of training, but today, this time, he knew that thinking that would be wrong. Something was up, and he wasn't going to give up until he got to the bottom of it.

———————

Lunch was uneventful. Naruto tried to act normal but with his watchful eye Jiraiya noticed him expertly pushing his food around on his plate to make it look like he'd eaten most of it. 'How often has he done that without me realizing?' the guilt and worry were eating away at him inside, 'and when did I start to care so much?' So lost in his deep introspection Jiraiya didn't notice Naruto sneaking into the bathroom until a few moments had passed. Naruto's plate was already gone and his utensils sat neatly on his folded napkin. Jiraiya narrowed his eyes and waited a minute before trailing him, trying to be sleek. He pushed the door open slowly and was greeted by the sound of Naruto coughing; a dry, deep nagging cough that sounded painful.

"You alright in there?" Jiraiya asked from outside the stall, trying to hide the concern in his voice.

Naruto cleared his throat and forced out a nonchalant laugh, "y-yeah, just allergies! You know me, sensei, nothing can keep me down for long."

He flushed the toilet and staggered out of the stall, joining Jiraiya at the sinks as they both washed their hands. As much as he wanted to take the kid back to their room and drill him about his odd behavior, he wanted to give Naruto a chance to come to him on his own. He didn't want to pry; in reality it was none of his business. He was Naruto's teacher, not his dad and not his best friend. But something about this was different and Jiraiya couldn't quite place his finger on it; all he knew was that the sudden concern he had for Naruto made him unseasy. He wasn't one to invest so much into his student's personal lives, let alone their mental health. But the alarm bells were going off in his head and he couldn't quiet them. He needed to get to the bottom of this; whether Naruto wanted to do this the easy way or the hard way was up to him.

"Lets get a move on! We only have so much sunlight left," Jiraiya placed a hand on Naruto's shoulder as they headed towards their training spot.

———————

Naruto had certainly been training hard. By the amount of fallen trees, scuff marks, and rasengan impact points in the area Naruto had certainly been training hard in Jiraiya's absence.

"Been busy I see! Happy to see you haven't just been slacking off while I've been away," he jokingly elbowed Naruto in the ribs, gauging his reaction.

Naruto winced but tried to play it off as a chuckle, "well yeah sensei, I couldn't just sit around waiting for you to get back. Besides, I'm used to training alone since you seem to have little interest in helping me train anyway!" he glared up at his teacher with a smirk on his face, "plus, Ero-sennin, I've been doing just fine without you!"

It was Jiraiya's turn to glare at Naruto, "I thought I told you not to call me that. And I'm here now, aren't I? So show me what you've been working so hard on." Jiraiya dropped his pack onto the ground by a tree and rolled up his sleeves. He needed to feel for himself just where Naruto's skills had increased to, and what a better way to do that than sparing?

Naruto rolled his eyes as he jumped into position, "you sure you really want that old man? I don't want to hurt you," he giggled childishly, reaching into his pouch for a kunai.

"Just come at me," Jiraiya chided, watching for Naruto's move, his patience wearing thin.

As usual Naruto didn't try to make a calculated move, he ran straight for Jiraiya while pulling the kunai from his pouch, throwing the knife as a distraction while raising his leg for a kick. Jiraiya easily dodged the kunai and grabbed his foot, giving it a light twist to throw off Naruto's center of gravity. He noted the ease at which he was able to dodge him and throw him off balance, something which was usually quite hard with Naruto. The twisting of his leg made Naruto divert his attention, but he took advantage of the movement by reaching out his hands towards the ground. He used his palms to redirect his energy, pushing up off the ground and aiming a kick straight at the back of Jiraiya's head. Jiraiya bent forward a bit, causing Naruto's foot to just barely graze his mane of silvery hair, and he reached out his arm and gently pushed Naruto's hip while he was still upside down trying to regain his footing. The move made Naruto stumble a bit, giving Jiraiya time to spin around and grab his student by both arms, getting him in a headlock.

"C'mon kid, is this really the best you got? If this is how you've been training then I really haven't been missing much," he teased, trying to rile his student up enough to bring out the fight in him. That pissed Naruto off. The first time his sensei comes to watch him train in weeks and this was the best he could do? The pain in his head slowed him down and made him see double, while the unending stomach cramps made it difficult for him to stand up straight.

He took a moment to catch his breath and will his stomach to settle. He smirked, "I was just warming up!" Naruto jumped back and prepared his hand signs.

"Shadow clone jutsu!" he called out, spawning ten clones of himself. A few ran forward to engage Jiraiya in combat while he hung back with the rest, preparing a rasengan. He focused his chakra on his palm, finding it exceedingly difficult to draw enough out to make an adequately sized ball. The change in chakra form was enough to almost completely exhaust him. The feeling of disappointment rose up and crashed over him in waves. Talentless. A waste of space. A waste of air. A waste of life. He growled and sprung into action, launching himself into the air to gain some speed and momentum. "Rasengan!" he snarled, aiming straight for Jiraiya who was able to easily dodge Naruto's attack. Naruto landed on the ground and felt the shock waves of pain ricochet up his arm as his hand collided with the ground, a deep indent scarring the earth. The pain seemed to go straight up to his temples, the dull roar of his headache spiking up to a splitting pain. He winced and rested on his knee for a moment while Jiraiya grinned down at him.

"Come on Naruto, how do you plan to get Sasuke back with that crap? You can't even put a scratch on me! When did you get so weak?"

Weak. The word bounced around his head like a boomerang. You're weak. Naruto's face scrunched up into a sneer. He got up to his feet so quickly that all Jiraiya saw was a blur. The only still image he was able to catch was Naruto's eyes slitting dangerously. In his state Jiraiya knew Naruto couldn't handle a surge of the Fox's chakra - he was trying to avoid hurting the boy but he needed to put a stop to this. Naruto snarled as he launched himself into the air and quickly descended upon Jiraiya, a harsh blow landing across his teacher's face. Jiraiya slid back a few feet and had just enough time to block his head before Naruto landed another blow. Before he could get a defensive hit in of his own Naruto was already spinning around, dodging Jiraiya's first while also aiming a hit of his own at the older man's ribs. Jiraiya jumped up and dipped behind Naruto's back, moving quickly enough to slide Naruto's feet out from under him. The younger man hit the ground with a thud, all the air in his lungs painfully rushing out in a whoosh. He gasped as the pain shot through his body like lightning, setting every nerve ending ablaze. He managed to turn onto his side as he fought to regain the ability to breathe, coughing and spluttering. Jiraiya narrowed his eyes, 'he should have recovered from that by now; I've seen him get flung halfway across a forest and get up as if nothing happened. This isn't good.' He sighed as he reached down to offer Naruto a hand, but quickly jumped back when he saw clawed fingers swat his hand away. 'Shit, the transformation has started, I need to end this before he takes on the Nine Tail's cloak.' Jiraiya balled his hands into fists and watched as Naruto struggled to his feet, pausing for a moment with his hands on his knees.

"You alright over there?" Jiraiya asked cautiously. All he got in response was an animalistic growl, red cat eyes meeting his gaze.

"Stop going easy on me, old man. I'm not a fucking child!" Naruto snapped, jumping into action.

The two spared for a moment, hands and feet flying in a blur. Naruto caught Jiraiya in the jaw, sending his teacher gliding back. Jiraiya spat out blood that was gushing from his bottom lip as he waited for Naruto to make his next move. The boy dashed towards him with a snarl, clawed hand raised and ready to strike. 'This needs to end. Now!' Jiraiya balled his fist and hit Naruto full force in the stomach as soon as he was about to get slashed. The blow sent Naruto flying back, a crack echoing around the clearing as his back connected with a tree. Jiraiya held his position as the dust settled, waving his hand back and forth in front of his face as he attempted to get a glimpse of Naruto. He took a few hasty steps as Naruto's silhouette began to come into his line of vision. He saw Naruto struggling to stand, using the tree trunk to steady himself. Once the dust settled and Jiraiya was able to get a real look at his student he noticed that he was shaking all over, strong tremors rocking his whole body. He back was pressed against the tree and his hands rested on his knees, his face blocked by hair and shadows. His claws and fangs had retracted so Jiraiya felt comfortable getting closer.

"... Naruto?" Jiraiya asked gently once he was about halfway across the clearing. Naruto's face slowly turned up towards his teacher, a stupid grin plastered onto his face, but the tremors revealed his true pain.

"I-I'm fine, sensei; that was a good hit you got in but it won't happen again!" He reached up and brushed a hand through his hair, freezing when his fingers reached the back of his head. Something slick was coating his fingertips; something warm and sticky. Blood. He shakily pulled his hand away from his head and stared at the blood dripping from his fingers, snaking it's way down to his elbow.

"Naruto!" Jiraiya sprang into action as his student's eyes went wide with shock before rolling into the back of his head. He reached his arms out just in time to catch Naruto's limp body before he landed in a heap on the ground.

———————

Inky darkness spread around him, swirling like smoke. He felt the uncomfortably warm waist deep water surrounding him; caressing his skin, it's putrid odor making his stomach turn. Somewhere close behind him he heard an insidious chuckle and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

'Weak. You're still so weak,' the voice boomed. Naruto shuttered as a rotting smell reached him; a smell of death and decay. The air was thick with it, assaulting his nostrils whenever the voice spoke. 'You're pathetic. Why do you even try? Just give up. Give in to me. I can make you strong.' A cold chill ran up his spine as he pushed himself up onto unsteady feet. He looked around frightfully as he tried to get his bearings. He reached his hands up to try to wipe the sweat off his forehead but somehow it made his skin feel slicker, stickier, warm... Naruto looked down at his hands and gasped, falling backwards into the water as he realized his hands were covered in blood. He desperately tried to scrub the blood off his hands as another snicker exploded into his eardrums, 'see what you've done? See what you've become? You're a monster, whether you give in to me or not. I will overcome you. I will wipe out your village; I'll kill each and every friend you've ever known while wearing your face. You'll feel their bones break beneath your fingers. You'll taste their blood.' Images of death and chaos flashed before his eyes; The Hidden Leaf Village burning to the ground, all of his friend's bodies scatted over rubble, Kakashi's decapitated head on a stake. Naruto sobbed and squeezed his palms onto his eyes.

"No! That won't happen! I won't let you!" he cried, whipping his head back and forth trying to find the source of the voice. Finally he saw an ominous crimson smoke billowing from the darkness, a pair of gigantic red eyes peering at him from the void. The voice laughed heartily, causing the walls and ground to shake. 'Don't you see, you stupid boy, you already have.' Naruto plunged his hands back into the water, struggling to see through the tears in his eyes.The blood wouldn't budge; each time he tried to wash it off it just grew and multiplied, coating his arms up to the elbows. And then he saw it; the water he was sitting in was a river of blood. Fresh and hot. Naruto sobbed, broken in half and hollow. 'Why am I alive?'

'Naruto. Naruto!' A voice was calling out to him from the darkness, a pinprick of light appearing above him. He stood, wanting to reach out and grab it, follow it out of this Hell. But he couldn't move, those eyes had him paralyzed. 'Naruto!' The voice called out again as the beam of light grew. Naruto reached up his hands, jumping into the beam of light and letting it envelop him. The ominous voice screeched ferociously and Naruto felt a clawed hand try to grab him, but the darkness was already receding and he was pulled fully into the light.

———————

Naruto awoke from his nightmare, colors and sounds rushing back to him in a blur. He felt hands on his face, rough and calloused, pushing back his hair and gently slapping his cheek.

"Fuck, you're burning up!" a voice growled as he felt his body being shaken. "Naruto, wake the fuck up!" the familiar voice barked. Naruto seemed to come back down into reality as he heard his name. The voice was Jiraiya sensei! A sick groan escaped Naruto's lips as he attempted to roll on his side, but he found himself firmly held in Jiraiya's lap. "Naruto! Stay with me now," Jiraiya exclaimed, his forehead creased and his mouth pressed into a thin line. Naruto went to rub his eyes but caught a whiff of something metallic - blood! His eyes flew open and he stared at the blood coating his hand. He wriggled free from Jiraiya's grasp just in time to roll to his side off his lap, landing on the ground hard, a pain surging through his chest from the impact. His fingers clenched into the dirt as he gagged, a rush of stomach acid burning his throat. A wave of vomit splashed onto the ground as Naruto choked and retched, involuntary tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. Suddenly he felt a hand on his back, rubbing in circles.

Jiraiya helped Naruto to his knees so he wasn't laying in a puddle of his own vomit, leaving a strong hand on the boy's shoulder to help hold him steady. Naruto hissed in pain as his body betrayed him, spluttering and heaving over the ground as his stomach refused to settle. He coughed up a dribble of bile, a long string of saliva hanging from his lips. Jiraiya pushed back Naruto's hair, hushing him and gently whispering reassurances and encouragement; you're good, I've got you, I'm so sorry. Jiraiya's heart broke in two as he watched his student struggling. The back of his head was coated in blood and dirt, 'because of me,' and Naruto was puking in a field - 'even though I knew something was up and decided to push him to his limits instead of forcing him to take it easy,' Jiraiya thought to himself bitterly. He wasn't used to the feelings he was feeling. He wasn't sure if he should stick to his old ways or model and change his tactics to Naruto's needs... to his own needs. He felt Naruto's breathing change below his grip; quick and unsteady, gasping, hyperventilating. He gripped Naruto's shoulder and smoothed the boy's hair back. "Breathe, kid, you need to breathe. Steady, now. You're okay. I'm here," Jiraiya murmured, letting his fingers linger over the back of Naruto's head, trying to gauge how bad his injury was.

The gash was deep with ragged edges but the bone was undisturbed. Naruto dry heaved one last time before sliding his feet underneath him, settling his ass on the ground, arms cradling his head against his knees. He broke down into tears, gasping for breath between sobs, his chest clenched tight. "It's all my fault!" he finally managed to choke out. Jiraiya scrunched his eyebrows together and reached out to wrap an arm around Naruto's shoulders, but the boy quickly flinched away. His head whipped up as he held an arm in front of him, "g-get away from me! I-I'll only hurt you!" he sobbed, delirious with fever.

"Naruto... what are you talking about?" the older man murmured as he tried to approach Naruto again, letting a hand rest on the boy's knee.

Naruto hiccuped and coughed, shrinking away from Jiraiya's touch, tears streaking his face. "Their blood," Naruto cried, holding up his hands as if to prove his point, "the blood of The Village is on my hands. I'm a monster - there's a monster inside me. If you don't get away - i-if you stay here... I'll kill you." Naruto pitched forward involuntarily as his stomach clenched, forcing up a painful dry cough. He struggled as he dry heaved repeatedly, his entire body shaking violently.

"Easy, easy..." Jiraiya soothed, slipping behind Naruto and placing a hand on his back, rubbing in light circles. Naruto's body was utterly exhausted; nothing left to throw up and no energy to resist the unending sickness in his stomach. Once he was done Jiraiya pulled the boy closer to him to examine his wound. His powers of healing were rudimentary, but he had picked up a few pointers from Tsunade over the years. He concentrated his chakra and held his hand over Naruto's wound. The healing was slow and painful, the Fox clearly wasn't even attempting to heal Naruto this time around. 'That explains why he's so sick. In all my years of training with Naruto I've never seen him have more than a slight sniffle. The Fox isn't healing him; whether he's unable to or just rebelling is something I'll need to figure out,' he thought to himself as Naruto's gash finally started to knit back together.

The boy sat in his lap, sniffling and coughing, shaking miserably from the pain coursing through his body. As soon as the cut was healed Naruto slumped backwards into Jiraiya's chest. Jiraiya sighed and scooted Naruto fully into his lap, using his sleeve to wipe off his face. A move like that would usually have Naruto calling him a pervert, but for now it brought him comfort. Naruto's hands clutched onto the front of Jiraiya's vestments, snuggling his face into the fabric. 'He must be sick to be acting like this,' he frowned, sighing as he began to push himself up, cradling Naruto to his chest. The sudden movement made it feel like he had the spins, wincing as he squeezed his eyes tight. "Just hang on," Jiraiya adjusted the heap of a boy in his arms before leaping off into action, rushing them back to their room.

———————

Jiraiya placed Naruto onto the couch, keeping one hand firmly planted on his student’s shoulder so he wouldn’t fall over. Naruto was slipping in and out of consciousness; his high fever intermingling with his concussion, creating a deadly combination. Jiraiya unzipped Naruto’s jacket and gently slid the sleeves over his shoulders and down his arms. He slid his pants down and then removed his undershirt, leaves his boxers for dignity’s sake.

“Alright, up ya go,” he muttered as he picked Naruto up from under his arms, carrying him into the bathroom so he could get him in a cool bath. Even without being a medical ninja Jiraiya could tell Naruto's fever was reaching the danger zone. He flipped on the taps and then settled onto the floor, cradling Naruto’s broken frame in his hands. Other than his blatant sickness and concussion Jiraiya was able to detect multiple cracked ribs in various states of repair, multiple strained muscles, a snapped ligament in his left knee, and a litany of bruises and cuts. How Naruto even managed to pull himself out of bed that morning was a miracle.

Once the tub was full Jiraiya turned off the taps and gently placed Naruto into the tub. As soon as he was in the water his eyes flashed open.

“C-cold! L-let me out of here!” he struggled to get out of the tub but was too weak to put up much of a fight. Jiraiya grabbed both of Naruto’s wrists and tried to hold them down, so Naruto used his feet as leverage to try to slide out of the tub.

“Damn it Naruto, stay still! If I don’t cool you down your brain’s gonna fry!” Jiraiya exclaimed, struggling against Naruto’s constant wriggling. Finally he heaved a sigh, “shit, you owe me one, kid,” he glared at the boy as he stood up and stepped into the tub, a quick shiver making its way up his spine as the lower part of his pants got soaked. He slid down into the lukewarm water, wrapping his arms around Naruto’s chest, forcing the boy’s arms still as he straddled his back to keep him from bucking out of the tub. For a moment he just held him, waiting for the harsh shivers to stop shaking Naruto’s thin frame, and especially for him to stop resisting.

As soon as Naruto relaxed Jiraiya took the washcloth from the towel rack and wet it, squeezing out the excess water. He wiped the dirt and blood off of Naruto’s body and neck, pressing gently as to avoid hurting him (even more than he already had). Naruto’s head lolled back into the crook of Jiraiya’s neck, snuggling his face into the crazy mane of silvery hair, seeking warmth. Once Jiraiya was done with the washcloth he rinsed it, squeezed it, and folded it in half, laying it over Naruto’s forehead and eyes. Jiraiya grabbed a cup from the side of the tub and filled it with water before dumping it over Naruto’s hair, gently massaging the dried blood and dirt from it. As he massaged his scalp he couldn’t help but notice Naruto’s toes curling, a barely audible moan deep in his throat. The older man couldn’t help but chuckle lightly.

“You’re never gonna live this down, and you’re never gonna call me a pervert again,” he smiled to himself as he washed the last of the blood away. It was the first time in weeks that he’d seen Naruto actually relaxed and he felt guilty taking it away so soon, especially after he’d injured him so badly, so he kept massaging his scalp. He grabbed the shampoo from the rack above him and squirted some into his hand before lathering it in Naruto’s honey yellow hair. He noticed Naruto begin to shake again and he stopped, reaching to grab for the cup so he could wash the shampoo away and get them into some warm, dry clothes.

But as Naruto spoke he froze in place; “p-please don’t stop.” He wasn’t shivering, he was crying. Naruto had never been shown this amount of affection. He didn’t have parents to take care of him as a child, having to rely on trial and error, mostly error at that. The most he’d get was a side hug from Sakura every now and then, a ruffle of his hair from Kakashi, maybe an arm around his shoulder. Whenever he was injured or sick he’d be healed and that would be the end of it - once his physical problems were gone no one was there to clean up the rest of the mess; no one to comfort him or make sure he was coping well. He was always the one being relied on for the comforting. It was taxing, Naruto constantly was the one who needed to swoop in and save the day. No one ever considered that he was the one breaking apart and needed saving. To be honest, Naruto had never felt this sort of closeness with someone; he’d barely had any physical interactions with people period.

Jiraiya frowned deeply, his heart breaking for the boy. “I won’t,” he whispered, continuing to rub the shampoo gently into Naruto’s scalp. Naruto tried to pull himself together as his fever broke and he was pulled back down into consciousness, but he was overwhelmed with anxiety and gratitude. No one had even attempted to show him this amount of kindness. It had been so long since he’d even imagined being this close with someone; he’d blocked even the possibility of feeling this way out of his mind. Now that it was actually happening he was stuck in a stunned stupor, not even attempting to fight back the tears on his cheeks. He wanted to thank Jiraiya but a part of him was terrified that speaking would break the spell; that Jiraiya would realize what he was doing, who he was doing it to, and leave him again just like all those months ago after their first training session when he wouldn’t even give Naruto the time of day. So much had changed since then. No matter how much he felt like he pushed himself he felt like he’d just wind up taking two steps back. He perfected the rasenshuriken and then had it banned from his repertoire due to the collateral damage. He was quickly running out of time to get Sasuke back, only a few months remaining until they’d set out again, and he couldn’t even look himself in the mirror. He knew he’d fail. Jiraiya must have known too considering the fact he wouldn’t even be in the same room as him.

Jiraiya rinsed Naruto’s hair and placed the cup on the floor, pausing for a second as he waited for Naruto to move. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. This might be the last time he’d feel like this again. At that thought Naruto broke. He ripped the washcloth off his face and replaced it with his hands, sitting up in the tub in a feeble attempt to distance himself from Jiraiya. He couldn’t handle being rejected again so he figured it would hurt less if he did the rejecting. But he was too weak to run and his attempt to get up ended in him slipping back down into Jiraiya’s strong hands.

“Naruto, stop,” he demanded a bit harder than he meant to, “you’re going to get hurt,” he added more gently, getting a grip on Naruto’s upper arms to hold him firmly in place. Naruto gave up his struggle and pressed his palms into his eye sockets.

“It already does hurt,” he cried, allowing himself to collapse upon Jiraiya’s chest. Jiraiya stayed silent for a moment, letting Naruto cry, fighting the urge to soothe him because he needed the kid to talk. He could feel how tense he was, it hung in the air like an all consuming smoke.

“You need to talk to me, I need to know what’s going on,” Jiraiya pressed, hugging the boy close to him. It took Naruto a minute to regain his composure.

“I-I can’t, you’ll just leave... You’ll just leave like everyone else...”

“I’m not going anywhere. But we do need to get out of this tub. I’m turning into a prune,” he joked, trying to lighten the tension.

Jiraiya helped Naruto up, wrapping a towel around his shoulders before guiding him back into their room, sitting him on the couch as he went to retrieve their clothes. They both dressed in silence - Jiraiya contemplating his next move as Naruto just wished he could disappear; get as far away as he could before he was rejected. Naruto sat on the couch sniffling, trying to ignore the pain exploding in his temples, exacerbated by his stuffy nose and tears. Jiraiya grabbed the blanket from his futon before wrapping it around Naruto’s shoulders.

“You’re my comrade; we eat together, fight together, live together, train together... I need to know what’s going on with you. You need to let me help you,” Jiraiya took a seat next to Naruto, staring at him patiently. Naruto just shook his head, hiding himself beneath the covers. He couldn’t face him; not while he was bearing his soul.

“If I’m honest you’ll just leave... N-no, you’ll leave regardless... just like everyone else. I’ll serve whatever purpose you have for me, and then I’ll be discarded with all the other things that have lose their usefulness,” he started, “I’m just a tool. Just a stepping stone in everyone’s journey. Once I serve my purpose I’m thrown aside. I save the girl, then she’s gone. I train with Sasuke and then he leaves to pursue power I can’t offer. I make promises and can’t keep them,” Naruto cried, shoulders shaking, stomach twisting into knots. "I-I'm a monster, people just use me for the power that I have and then they leave. I'm disgusting. A reminder of a past that everyone just wants to forget. A reminder of death," Naruto felt anger starting to bubble up in his chest. "I took so much from everyone... from you... the Fourth Hokage... All I do is cause pain... I shouldn't be alive," the last part of his sentence was said in a whisper so quiet that it was barely audible, but Jiraiya felt as if it was screamed directly into his ears.

"Don't say that. That isn't true. You aren't a monster. And you didn't take anything from anyone. You saved the village. The Fourth Hokage did what he needed to do to protect the Village and he was damn proud to do it. Don't tarnish his name by saying that he was murdered; he sacrificed himself to save his people. To save you also, Naruto," Jiraiya clapped a hand down on Naruto's shoulder, trying to comfort him. "Fuck what anyone else says, what anyone else does, I need you and that isn't going to change. I need you to be alive. You're my student and I'm going to protect you with both arms. I'm not going anywhere, and that's a promise. You're the strongest, hardest working, most incredible shinobi I have ever had the honor to train. Even stronger than the Fourth," Jiraiya tried to get a peek at Naruto's face but he was so tightly wound up in the blankets that all he could see was yellow hair. "Fuck those girls, fuck Sakura, fuck the Village, and honestly, fuck Sasuke," Jiraiya spat angerly, "what matters is you. You're incredible, and you're going to be hokage one say. I swear on my life. I will help you reach that dream. You aren't a tool and you aren't worthless. The village needs you. I need you," Jiraiya started to pull the blankets away. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised, finally finding Naruto's face among the duvet. Naruto looked up at him with his tear stained face, all puffy and red, but he could see the hope glimmering in his eyes for the first time in weeks. Naruto couldn't find the words to speak, he just threw his arms around Jiraiya's neck and allowed his teacher to hold him as he cried, short bursts of anguish and anxiety purging from his body. He sniffled weakly as the tears finally stopped, allowing himself to rest against Jiraiya. He wouldn't admit it, but Jiraiya's arms felt safe - they felt right. He didn't want to move, not yet. He needed to relish this moment as long as he could because he knew he'd likely never feel this safe again.

Jiraiya just sat there, thoughts zipping through his mind too quickly to really hold on to any of them. He'd never let anyone bring out this side of him, let alone one of his students. Not even his old girlfriends had seen this side of him. But something about Naruto was different, especially when he was in such a state. For someone so optimistic and strong to fall this hard, something must seriously be wrong and it broke Jiraiya's heart. He needed to do whatever he could to help Naruto. He wasn't surprised that he'd pushed himself hard enough to break his own ribs, but he'd never expect a mental breakdown of this magnitude. However, with the way Naruto had been treated his whole life, he knew it shouldn't have come as a surprise. He knew he should have been helping him train mentally as well as physically, and he cursed himself for not noticing the signs sooner. 'And now he wants to die,' he thought to himself bitterly, subconsciously gripping the boy to him even harder. 'That won't happen, not to him, not while I'm around,' Jiraiya promised himself, allowing his eyes to close for some much needed rest.

They sat that way for a while before Naruto started to stir, swinging his legs over the side of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. Suddenly he groaned, shivers traveling along his spine, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck.

"Naruto...? You alright, kiddo?" Jiraiya asked lightly, placing a hand on Naruto's shoulder. Naruto groaned again, an arm wrapping around his abdomen defensively.

"I-I’m so nauseous," he choked out, wincing as his stomach felt like it was being stabbed by white hot stakes. Naruto had never really been sick like this due to the Nine Tailed Fox's healing abilities, so he wasn't coping well. The pounding pain in his head was blinding and he didn't know how to handle it, his stomach joining the revolt. He didn't know how to ease the pain, how to help himself to make it end. Naruto fought back the tears forming in his eyes, astonished that he even had any tears left to cry. Another searing cramp shot through his stomach and he gasped, bending forward into his knees over the edge of the couch to try to subdue the pain.

"It's alright, I've gotcha," Jiraiya soothed, gently rubbing Naruto's back.

"M-Make it go away," Naruto cried, fingernails digging into his side, trying to claw the pain away.

"I would if I could, kid. You just need to ride it out. I'll get you some water," Jiraiya offered, getting up from the couch to fill a glass with water from the bathroom tap. Naruto took the glass from his hand but just held it for a moment, contemplating.

"If I drink it I'll just throw up again," he muttered.

Jiraiya frowned and sighed, "that may be true but you need to try. You're definitely dehydrated and that'll make the pain worse," he plopped back down on the couch beside Naruto. The boy eyed the water suspiciously before taking a small sip. The water soothed his abused, dry throat and he started chugging large mouthfuls. "Not too much!" Jiraiya exclaimed, grabbing the cup from Naruto before he downed the whole thing. Naruto jumped a bit when Jiraiya took the cup from him, but he quickly understood what he meant. He felt the water flow into his empty stomach which promptly clenched, sending a torrent of pain through is abdomen. Naruto winced, folding back down into his knees in an attempt to squeeze the pain away. "Told ya," Jiraiya said sadly, pulling the blanket up around Naruto's shoulders to try to ease his shaking. Naruto felt a cold sweat breaking out over his body, his mouth filling with saliva.

“Ugh, I’m gonna puke,” a hand flew to his mouth before he gagged emptily over the ground between his knees.

“Shit,” Jiraiya sprung into action, grabbing the metal garbage can in the corner of the room with lightning speed, shoving it into Naruto’s hands as he dry heaved. Naruto swallowed compulsively, fighting the bile attempting to crawl up his throat. He groaned sickly, trying to avoid the unavoidable. “Don’t fight it, you’ll only make it worse,” Jiraiya coached, “just let it out.” Naruto coughed and gagged, holding the can in a death grip as a stream of water and bile splashed into the can, the unmistakable sound of liquid hitting metal. “There ya go, I’ve gotcha,” Jiraiya soothed, brushing Naruto’s hair out of his eyes. Naruto’s stomach kept twisting, seemingly unending dry heaves wracking his body. He retched before burping up another wave of water, gasping for air between gags. Jiraiya waited a few moments for Naruto to calm down before reaching out for the can, “think you’re done?” Naruto spit into the can and then reached up and wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffling miserably.

“N-No,” he choked out before retching painfully.

“You’re all cleaned out, there’s nothing left. Sitting over it won’t help; I’ll wash this out, the smell is definitely not helping,” Jiraiya stated as he took the can from Naruto, carrying it into the bathroom. He emptied the can into the toilet and then washed it out in the sink. He reached for a washcloth and wet it with cool water, squeezing out the excess water so it wouldn’t drip. He placed the can next to Naruto on the couch just in case he needed it again and took back his spot on the couch. Jiraiya pushed Naruto’s hair off his forehead, sticky with sweat, and placed the washcloth on his fever-hot skin. Naruto signed in relief, allowing himself to sink into Jiraiya’s lap as he tried to rest his exhausted body. Naruto fell asleep in Jiraiya's arms, nestled in his lap on the couch.

Jiraiya held Naruto for an hour, trying to last as long as he could before his shoulders ached and his legs were cramping. His body was begging to move but he didn't want to disturb Naruto. He held his breathe as he started to lift himself up off the couch, sliding the boy onto the cushions. Thankfully Naruto didn't wake up and he was able to replace his lap with a pillow. Jiraiya sighed as he made his way over to his futon, grabbing the blanket from Naruto's half of the room as the boy was currently cuddled up with his. He laid down and began to let his mind wander. The way that Naruto was talking shook him to his core. The last person he knew who was talking like that wound up sacrificing themselves on a mission. 'Over my dead body,' Jiraiya hissed to himself, squeezing his eyes shut to try to make the thoughts stop. 'I need to do something about this, I need to help him.' With that he started drifting into a dreamless sleep.

———————

Jiraiya woke up some time later with a start, his eyes snapping open as some unknown noise awoke him. Something was wrong, alarm bells were going off in his head. He laid silently as he scanned the room for any danger. They were still alone but something was clearly amiss. “Naruto...?” he whispered sleepily as he glanced at the couch he’d left the younger man on; it was empty and the blanket and pillow were gone. He looked to Naruto’s futon and saw that empty as well. Instantly on high alert Jiraiya jumped up, prepared to put his shoes on to go looking for the boy. Just as he was about to throw his scroll onto his back he noticed the shine of light under the bathroom door. He padded over to the door silently, gently knocking against the wood. All he got in return was a series of violent dry coughs; deep and hacking, tearing and searing. “I’m coming in,” he announced as he turned the knob, taking in the scene in front of him.

Naruto had made a makeshift bed on the bathroom floor, his pillow and blanket sitting on a few laid out towels. Naruto was on the ground in front of the toilet - his legs were bent on either side of him, sitting on his feet for leverage, one arm draped over the toilet seat as the other clutched his stomach. His head hung over the bowl as he struggled, so exhausted he could barely hold himself up. Jiraiya’s heart jumped into his throat as he stared down at the boy, wishing he could take away his pain. Just then Naruto let out a choked off sob, grimacing as a tearing pain ripped across his abdomen. He subconsciously pressed down a hand over the pain, crying out as the pain increased. Red flags were waving in front of Jiraiya’s eyes; ‘a regular upset stomach shouldn’t be this painful. I’ve seen him break almost every bone in his body and still pull himself up, this isn’t right.’ Naruto glanced up at Jiraiya, his big deep blue eyes were glassy and filled with tears, his pupils slit like cat eyes, desperation obvious on his face as he clenched his fanged teeth. ‘The Fox is clearly trying to heal him but it doesn’t seem to be working, this isn’t good,’ Jiraiya thought as he knelt down next to Naruto, one hand pressing back the sweaty hair on his forehead to gauge his fever as the other went to his stomach. As soon as his fingers pressed down on Naruto’s stomach the boy cried out in pain, rolling up onto his side to escape Jiraiya’s hand.

”Where does it hurt?” Jiraiya pried, letting his hand linger over Naruto’s too hot forehead, trying to comfort him however he could. Naruto groaned, struggling to straighten out his legs, his hand lingering over his left side.

“M-My stomach,” he hissed.

Jiraiya’s brows furrowed as he examined Naruto, concentrating chakra in his palm to prepare his basic medical ninjutsu, “that’s not your stomach, that’s your rib cage.” Jiraiya hovered his hand over the lower left side of Naruto’s ribs, quickly pulling his hand back. ‘All that coughing and puking must have disturbed his healing ribs; the bone is fractured and piercing his stomach,’ he thought to himself, the situation instantly becoming dire. “Naruto, this is going to hurt like a bitch. Please try to stay still, I’ve gotcha,” Jiraiya murmured, concentrating his chakra to his hand again. His medical ninjutsu skills weren’t advanced enough to fix all of the damage that had been done but he could at least try to correct the bone fragment piercing Naruto’s stomach. As soon as he laid his hand down on Naruto’s rib the younger man yelped in pain, shaking violently as he tried to restrain from moving away from Jiraiya’s hand. Jiraiya cursed to himself as he healed Naruto; it was taking way too long. Normally it would take only a few quick moments to heal Naruto due to his natural healing abilities but now he was healing even slower than the usual person would, slower even than a person without any chakra control at all. “I’m so sorry, Naruto, just a little longer,” he promised, gripping his free hand down on Naruto’s shoulder to try to help hold him still. The pain was blinding, like his ribs were being shattered with a hammer as his stomach twisted into knots, it felt like his entire abdomen was being filled with liquid fire. ‘The bone is back in place and the hole is closed but I can’t do more. The bone is still broken and I can’t heal viral illness or heal the damage that has been done to his stomach other than repairing the tear, he’ll need to heal in his own time,’ Jiraiya sighed with exasperation as he pulled his hand away.

As soon as Jiraiya removed his hand Naruto quickly shot up from his spot on the floor, grabbing the toilet seat with both hands. He retched violently and then followed it up with a painful fit of coughing. His stomach rebelled and clenched, forcing Naruto to gag up a dribble of bile. He sobbed silently as he clung onto the toilet seat, waiting for the next round of dry heaving. Jiraiya stood and grabbed a cup from the counter, filling it with cool water from the sink. He knelt down next to Naruto, placing the cup beside him as Naruto got sick. He rubbed the boys back gently. “I know you’re going to hate me for this, but you need to drink this water. It’ll hurt less to have water in your stomach when you get sick rather than leaving your stomach empty. You’re going to hurt your ribs,” Jiraiya said seriously, picking up the glass and holding it out for Naruto. The boy reached out a trembling hand, carefully taking the glass. He held it to his lips and slowly took a few sips before setting it down on the floor. He laid his head down on his arm over the toilet seat, waiting for the inevitable. His body allowed him to have a few moments to rest before it forced him to pitch forward, violently vomiting up the water. “You’re okay, I’ve gotcha,” Jiraiya encouraged for the nth time. Naruto coughed and retched miserably, feeling like his stomach was being torn to shreds, a string of saliva clinging to his lips. He heaved forward as another rush of liquid splashed into the toilet. Naruto coughed harshly as the heaving started to ebb. He spit into the bowl and then reached up to wipe off his mouth and stared at his sleeve with shock; blood. “Fuck,” Jiraiya spat out as he glanced between the blood on Naruto’s sleeve and the bright crimson liquid in the bowl.

Naruto stared at his sleeve, unable to move his gaze, his eyes frozen wide. “Naruto? You with me?” Jiraiya asked at the boys sudden silence.

Blood. Blood on his hands. Everyone’s blood on his hands. All the people he couldn’t save, all the people he lost, all the people he killed. Visions of death and destruction flashed before his eyes; the Nine Tailed Fox taking over his body, absolute chaos, killing everyone he had ever cared about, chewing on a dismembered arm. Naruto screamed, hyperventilating, eyes wide with panic. Everything went red, drowning in the metallic liquid.

———————

The next thing he knew he was laying on his futon, a cool washcloth over his forehead and eyes. He groaned as he reached up to remove the cloth from his head but his hand was quickly swatted away. He shifted the cloth higher up so he could see, immediately coming face to face with Jiraiya who was sitting on his bedside. “You scared me there, kid,” he forced a smile, “you had internal bleeding from your rib piercing your stomach. I’ve fixed you up as best as I could but you need to stop puking so much; you’re gonna kill yourself!” Jiraiya tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but Naruto didn’t find it funny. He winced as he rolled onto his side away from Jiraiya.

“Yeah I wish,” he muttered, closing his eyes, wishing himself asleep.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jiraiya spat, gripping Naruto’s upper arm and forcing him to face him.

Naruto looked down ashamedly, “nothing. Just forget it, it doesn’t matter...” he whispered, ripping his arm out of Jiraiya’s grasp.

“What are you talking about? Of course it matters. We’re going to talk about this. Now,” Jiraiya demanded, moving to the other side of Naruto’s bed to force the boy to face him.

Naruto sat up with a wince, “no, it doesn’t matter. What do you care? All you care about is me doing my job. Well I’m done doing what other people want me to do. Just leave me alone,” he hissed, wrapping his arms around himself defensively.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Why do I care? Why do I care?!” he said harshly, anger boiling inside of his chest. “If I didn’t care would I have been sitting here all day playing nurse? Does that seem like a role I’d usually play? I’ve been up here all day taking care of your sorry ass. Look at the position you’ve put yourself into; you need to take better care of yourself. You need to get your shit together. After everything we’ve worked so hard on you want to just give up? Throw everything away?” Jiraiya noticed his voice rising but he was too angry to control it. “And what about Sasuke? Let me guess, fuck that too, right? The Akatsuki? You’re just going to ignore them and let them take all the other Jinchuriki? Like Gaara? You’re just gonna drop everything so you can wallow in your shit? Not gonna happen. Not while I’m around. When did you get so weak?” Jiraiya hissed, seething with rage.

Naruto laid back down, pulling the covers high up around his neck. “Yeah, fuck Sasuke. Fuck the Akatsuki. Fuck you,” Naruto growled, hiding beneath his covers. Jiraiya couldn’t help but scoff, a sneer spreading across his lips.

“Alright, fuck me. Without me here you’d probably be dead, bleeding out in the bathroom, or puking yourself to death. No rasenshuriken. No sage training. No work on becoming hokage. No nothing,” Jiraiya felt his hackles rising, his hands balled into fists. At this point he was standing, towering over Naruto’s small frame. “What the fuck is wrong with you? What happened? When did you become like this? What happened to that optimistic, energetic, head strong kid I used to know?” Jiraiya asked sadly.

“He grew up,” Naruto stated blankly.

“Yeah well if this is what growing up means to you I don’t like it. Since when have you been fine sitting by as people died? What about Sasuke? You’re just done trying to save him?! You’ll let Orochimaru use him as a vessel?! And what about the Akatsuki!” Jiraiya growled, “and you’re just done with your dreams of becoming hokage? You make me sick.” Jiraiya turned on his heels and plopped onto the couch with a huff, crossing his arms with anger.

“Join the club,” Naruto’s voice was muffled by the blankets. His complete lack of emotion and nonchalance really pissed Jiraiya off. He stood back up, face red with rage.

“I can’t with you. I’m done. I can’t speak to you when you’re like this. I... I just don’t get what happened to you,” Jiraiya scrubbed a hand over his face, preparing to grab his pack and leave the room.

“What happened to me? What happened to me?! What happened is that I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired. Why do I need to stop the Akatsuki? Why do I need to save Sasuke? Why do I need to save everyone? Why does no one give a fuck about me - ?” Naruto’s voice cracked as he choked back a sob, curling up under his blanket. He cleared his throat and tried again, “I just... I’m just so tired... I-I can’t do it... I can’t save Sasuke. I can’t stop the Akatsuki. I’m too weak. I’m useless. The Fox... the Fox is just going to wind up taking control of me anyway. He told me - “ Naruto sobbed, sniffling, “he told me he was going to take over my body and kill everyone I’ve ever cared about... he’d kill you while wearing my face, making me watch... he said he’d make me feel your bones crack.” The confession had Jiraiya floored and he felt guilt sweep over his body. “If I d-died... if I died he wouldn’t be able to... it would be on my terms. I can’t deal with the constant nightmares and flashbacks.. I-I can’t do it anymore,” at that Naruto broke, squeezing his eyes closed to try to stop the tears. He quietly sobbed, digging his nails into his palms. He was uncomfortable; he didn’t want to talk about this with anyone. It was his own issues, it no one else’s job to fix him. He didn’t want pity. He’d had enough pity growing up. He just wanted to be left alone. Jiraiya was stuck in a stunned silence; he felt like a complete piece of shit for what he had said. He had no idea how deep the issues went. All he knew was that something had to be done about the Fox. He knew the seal was weakening, but for the Fox to have this much control the seal must have been at its breaking point.

Naruto’s sobs quickly devolved into a round of lung burning coughing, his ribs feeling like they were set ablaze. His hand flew to his mouth as his coughing turned to gagging and Jiraiya quickly crouched beside him, “let me help you,” he urged but Naruto was too upset. Naruto jumped up and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it before falling to his knees in front of the toilet. Jiraiya just sat on the floor stunned, his heart aching and racing. He stood up and followed Naruto to the bathroom, frowning when he found the door locked. He knocked gently, “Naruto, please, let me help you,” Jiraiya urged, talking about both his current illness and also with the torment he was dealing with inside. The only answer he got in return was an awful, painful sounding retch followed by the sound of liquid hitting the bottom of the toilet. “Naruto, if you don’t answer me I’m going to assume you need help and kick this door down,” Jiraiya warned, anxiety spiking high. He heard Naruto sniffling before flushing the toilet.

“J-Just... just l-leave me alone...” Naruto’s voice wavered, unsteady from the tears threatening to stain his cheeks.

“Naruto...” Jiraiya started gently, but he was quickly cut off.

“No! J-Just leave me alone! Just get the fuck out!” he spat angrily before hissing as the pain flared up his side. He scooted backward and leaned against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut against his racing thoughts.

”Fine,” Jiraiya stated, turning on his heels as he reached for his pack and scroll. Just as he was about to leave he heard the bathroom door creak open. He turned around as Naruto stumbled out of the bathroom on shaky legs. He couldn’t hold up his weight anymore so he sunk to the ground, feeling like a helpless child. He stared up at Jiraiya, his face red and his eyes puffy, hair sweaty and disheveled, but all Jiraiya could see was his sad deep blue eyes, making Jiraiya's heart skip a beat. Jiraiya dropped his pack and stood next to Naruto to offer him a hand, but instead Naruto reached out and clung to his shirt.

"P-Please don’t leave me,” Naruto squeaked out, staring up at Jiraiya desperately, “not you too.”

Those eyes staring up at him, so sad and tormented, searching his own for some sense of comfort; craving a connection and love. That was it. That was all it took. Jiraiya knew in that instant that his heart belonged to Naruto. He vowed to himself to never let Naruto hurt like this again. He was going to take care of him regardless of the cost; they would get Sasuke back, they would defeat the Akatsuki, and Naruto would become hokage regardless of the sacrifices he'd have to make along the way. A sad smile spread across Jiraiya’s lips as he hugged the boy to his chest.

“All you had to do was ask.”

Jiraiya took Naruto’s hand and helped him to his feet, guiding him to his mattress. Naruto slid under his covers, shivering violently as he pressed his face into his pillow. He wanted to apologize but he couldn’t muster the words. He felt the mattress dip next to him, turning his face up to see what Jiraiya wanted. Jiraiya slid under the blankets next to Naruto, wrapping his arm around the younger man’s waist. Naruto bit his lip and froze, afraid to move.

”I’m not going anywhere,” Jiraiya whispered into Naruto’s hair, holding him close as they drifted to sleep.

part two.

#naruto fic #naruto fanfic #naruto uzumaki #sick naruto uzumaki #hurt naruto uzumaki #naruto emeto #jiraiya #hurt/comfort #sickfic #jungkook angst #emeto #whump #misharuu #masterlist #yaoi #illumivomi

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niall-official · 6 years ago

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Hiii! I��ve never done a fic rec before but I read a ton so I figured why not! Please don’t forget to give kudos and comment on fics you enjoy! Also, I reblog a lot more fics on my fic blog @verylarryfics so please check it out!

📚 All I Do Is Want You by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 (Harry/Louis, 31k) “Lou, if he knew how you felt, he might change how he feels?”

“And that’s the last thing I want!” Louis threw up his hands as he spoke, exasperated as he always was when it came to this particular topic of conversation. “I don’t want him to feel like he owes me something, or that he has to reciprocate my feelings, Zayn. He doesn’t feel that way towards me and I’ve come to terms with that, okay? You need to as well.”

“I would if you actually meant it,” Zayn mumbled in reply, barely ducking in time as Louis lobbed a cushion at him. “You know this isn’t healthy, right? That you can’t just keep fucking him because you’re scared you’re gonna lose him?”

Harry loves his best mate Louis. He especially loves the casual sex they indulge in. Trouble is, Louis’ in love with Harry. Surely it’s destined to end in heartbreak…

📚 Charisma by lululawrence / @lululawrence (Harry/Louis, 5k) Harry was smiling, and maybe blushing a little as well, as he accepted the phone back. “Thank you,” he glanced down at his phone and then said, “Louis.”

Smiling happily at the way Harry had said his name, Louis watched him leave the room. The further away he got, the more confused Louis was. Yes, Harry was gorgeous, but how the hell had he forgotten that Harry was also the man who had caused him to almost have a major accident earlier because of his haphazard driving? How had he allowed Harry to distract him with his charm to the extent that instead of giving the man a lecture, Louis accepted the offer of a date?

Well. Whatever the reason was, Louis wouldn’t forget when Harry called. Louis would give him a piece of his mind then and see if Harry still wanted to go out with him at that point. Because yeah, Louis was not mad enough about his overreaction to Harry, both on the road and at the event tonight, to turn that opportunity for a date down. He wasn’t stupid.

Or the one where Harry feeds on awesomeness (possibly literally). Louis is awesome and also angry. They’re probably going to fall in love

📚 Come to My Window by gettingaphdinlarry / @gettingaphdinmomo (Zayn/Liam, 4k) It had become their joke, ever since Zayn had come out. One of them would do something stupid—burp or trip or slosh their pint of beer—and the other would say, “You could’ve texted me” or “that wasn’t worth texting me?”

When Zayn got a full scholarship to college, he sent Liam a message. Need to talk to you. Call me. When Liam said to text it, Zayn said no.

That’s how it was, and they both knew it. You can text me was for easy things, nothing serious. If it was serious, it got a phone call.

But an hour ago, Liam had texted back.

-Zayn and Liam were best friends for years — and then things changed.

📚 don’t care if you’re too loud by disgruntledkittenface / @disgruntledkittenface (Liam/Nick, 2k) @grimmers did you take inspiration from @liampayne? Is that his workout secret?

📚 Enjoy The Ride by 2tiedships2 / @2tiedships2 (Harry/Louis, 11k) Or the one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.

📚 (even when I messed it up) There You Are by rosegoldhl / @rosegoldhlfics (Zayn/Liam, 9k) “It’s so cold,” came a deep voice from his right.

Zayn snapped his head towards the source of the melodic sound, his heart wildly rabbiting in his chest. Liam Payne, firefighter.That’s all he knew about the boy with the kind brown eyes and pretty lips, who had moved to the apartment next to Zayn’s a few months back. He had dug that info from the mailbox downstairs– it was a low moment, he could admit that, but he didn’t do anything illegal, just slightly creepy.

“Maybe you ought to wear something then,” Zayn remarked, nodding towards Liam’s bare chest as he let out the smoke he had inhaled.

📚 going live by jaerie / @jaerie (Harry/Louis, 15k) Harry has only done this cam thing a handful of times when another camboy pops in to view his stream and unintentionally stirs things up a bit.

Or Louis and Harry are both camboys for some extra cash and meet each other in an unconventional way

📚 I don’t want a taste (I want it all) by thedaggerrose / @thedaggerrose (Harry/Louis, 3k) What Louis really needed was a fat fucking nap.

What Louis got instead was some hipster-looking wannabe arguing with him over the validity of avocado toast.

Or the AU where Harry tells Louis to go fuck himself, Louis tells Harry to fuck him himself, and Harry follows through.

📚 it started with you and started with me by thearcherballet (Zayn/Liam, 11k) It starts like this: you love a boy more than you love your own music, until he becomes the song your heart sings.

Solo artist Zayn Malik is recording his third album when he finds himself working with a new music producer, the amateur talent Liam Payne. Liam is saddled with the task to prove that Zayn can be the greatest musician of the 21st century.

Zayn’s musical barriers start melting away as things get heated up in the recording studio.

📚 Life Saver by objectlesson / @horsegirlharry (Harry/Louis, 30k) Nerd Boy’s giant, dorky, adorable hand shoots into the air. Louis notices he has chipped red polish on a few of his nails and some tattered friendship-looking bracelets, like the sort you make in camp, and he might hear the distant chime of wedding bells. He thought he didn’t even believe in marriage because it’s, like, oppressive and heteronormative or whatever, but that was before Styles, Harry (Harry Styles!!! What an absurd, wonderful name! What a perfect thing to scrawl in the margins of all his notebooks surrounded in hearts!) appeared in the bio lab at his new school and ruined all his principles forever.

or Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

📚 my favourite colour is you by velvetnoodle / @velvetnoodle (Harry/Louis, 2k) Harry and Louis have been best friends for decades, and practically attached at the hip the entire time. Harry would scoff whenever the people closest to them would question their lack of an actual relationship, because the idea of the two of them being anything more than friends is the most preposterous thing he can think of.

Until, one day, it isn’t.

📚 Of the Earth by angelichl / @angelichl (Harry/Louis, 24k) Harry embarks on a backpacking trip in West Virginia to figure his life out after breaking up with his boyfriend. He meets Louis along the way.

📚 Superhuman Tonight by anonymous for @popularryculture fic fest (Harry/Louis, 23k) A group of young offenders doing community service get struck by lightning during a storm, and begin to develop superpowers.

📚 the little things i’d do to lose you again by larrymaybe22 / @larrymaybe22 (Harry/Louis, 11k) Louis wishes he could erase the look of defeat and regret painted over Harry’s face from his memory.

“I think maybe we just found each other at the wrong time.”

“No,” Louis shakes his head, “There’s never been anything wrong about us. You can’t just call the last two and half years wrong.”

Or, the one where being in love isn’t always enough the first time around.

📚 There’s Nothing I Can Do (I Only Wanna Be With You) by chaoticallyyours / @hazzaskilt (Harry/Louis, 6k) Roommates Harry and Louis both consider themselves matchmakers. Louis’ latest crusade is finding the perfect match for Harry, despite the admittedly disastrous results. With just a little bit of help from their friends and a lot of whining, Louis realizes that the best match for Harry might just be the person already sharing his flat.

OR: Louis is a dumb gay who doesn’t realize he’s in love with his best friend. Until he does.

📚 to the brim with fright by hereforlou / @hereforlou (Harry/Louis, 14k) The only reason he’s here is because it’s tradition. And also, Harry said it’d be fun to make Liam wet himself in fear and Louis agreed. It’ll be hilarious. He’s not an insecure new transfer anymore, thank you very much. It took him no more than a week to insert himself into a group, to get invited to his first party, and to start crushing on someone—he’s not what anyone would call socially impaired. He doesn’t need validation.

(Or, the one where Louis’ high and scared and Harry’s…also high and scared.)

📚 two loves have i by wreckingtomlinson / @humhalleloujah (Harry/Louis, 2k) “So, hang on a minute.” Niall puts the pen down. “You’re really trying to tell me that you think two people who look alike moving into the same building around the same time makes more sense than Louis cutting his hair and changing his clothes in the four days since you last saw him?”

~or, Harry is convinced the new guy who’s just moved into his apartment complex is not only hot, but has an equally hot doppelgänger.

📚 What I’ve Been Waiting For by styleandsin / @styleandsin (Harry/Louis, 14k) “Have you checked your twitter mentions lately?” Liam asks, almost hesitantly.

“‘Course not, I’ve been busy relaxing.” Louis gives Liam a smile, “Besides, isn’t that your job?”

“Well, I mean… Kind of, but you should check them.”

Louis sighs, “Fine.”

He picks his phone up from the table and takes a scroll through twitter, finding that apparently the book he was carrying on the way out of the airport was visible enough to see in the pap shots, and now his fans are excited. From about three minutes of scrolling and reading tweets he gathers the following: he and Harry share an overlap in fans, a lot of people are thankful for the book recommendation, some people say they ship him and Harry, whatever that means, oh and Harry Styles has seen the photos.

Or, Louis is famous for his singing. Harry is semi-famous for his writing. They’re both fans of each other.

📚 Whirlwind by sweetums / @darlou (Harry/Louis, 5k) “Noisy boys over at that table there, yes, you two, would you like to share something with us?”

“I was just saying that you’re probably the only person who’s ever literally taken my breath away”

AU inspired by Phoebe and David from Friends.

📚 (you and me are) the difference between real love and the love on TV by hipsterchrist (Niall/Shawn, 20k) Some pap photos spread like wildfire across the internet, published frantically on braindead celebrity gossip sites with headlines like “SHAWN MENDES AND NIALL HORAN: MORE THAN FRIENDS?” and poorly written articles full of puns on their song titles. His Twitter mentions are flooded with fans, both excited and distraught, and he clicks away from the trending topics tab as soon as he sees that he and Shawn have their own Twitter Moment. It’s all been thoroughly planned and carefully orchestrated - they all knew this is exactly what would happen - and it’s still fucking disarming as hell.

Or: a coming out story, a fake relationship, a realization of what everybody already knew.

📚 you’re the song stuck in my head (every song that i’ve ever loved) by hipsterchrist (Niall/Shawn, 13k) the thing is: niall is sure of shawn.

#posting this for #28th appreciation #fic rec #!!!!!!!!!

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reddeadmort · 6 years ago

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Arthur Morgan X Reader |Outlaws, all of them| Part 2

Part 1

I was fully expecting less than 10 of you to read part 1, let alone have multiple people like and reblog - I love you all, thank you so much.

Yes I know I only posted the first chapter yesterday, but I’m an obsessive and I’ve got at least 3 parts of this story pretty much planned in my head already so I’m desperate to get it written down. I hope y’all enjoy this part too :)

Tagging @0dobi0 ‘cause they kindly asked to be prodded when next part was up :)

Warnings: Mentions of blood, mild violence, swearing (in line with the game), fluff has been ramped up.

There will be some mild smut in the future, but we’re not there yet all you cowby lovers ;) The other gang members do pop up in this one, brief appearances by Sean, Hosea and John among others. Summary: Recovering in an Outlaw camp ain’t as bad as you would have expected....

Words: 3.5k (oops) ---- Arthur knew he’d pushed his horse too damn hard. But as he rode into camp, he was glad he did. The girl he held to his chest was still breathing, he could feel it. But he wasn’t sure for how much longer…. -----

The first thing you heard was birdsong, and the gentle crackle of a nearby fire. For a few brief moments, you felt peaceful; until the thundering pain in your hip quickly snapped you back to reality.

“Ah shit….” You tried to speak, but thanks to your dry throat all that emerged was a low groan. As you slowly opened your eyes, you became more aware of your surroundings. You were in sort of tent, raised up from the ground on a rudimentary camp bed.

“Good to have you back with us dear.”

The sudden voice, close by, snapped you to fully awake. Heart pounding, your hand went to your gun belt, only to find it wasn’t there.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.”

You breathed slowly, letting your head fall back to the bed, and forced yourself to turn it towards the source of the voice. There was an older man sat on a chair to your side, book in his lap; he was slight, and without meaning to, your first thought was that he looked easy to overpower. You shook your head to dismiss the thought; he was smiling at you, and what was he going to do? Read you to death?

You tried to speak, but again all that came from your mouth was a muffled groan.

“I’ll fetch you some water dear, just rest”.

The man stood up and walked away. You tried to lift your head to watch him and caught a glimpse of a fire and a handful of tables, but you were too weak and once again fell back against the bed. The man quickly returned, and gently propped your head up as he held a cup of water to your mouth. You took a few careful sips, grateful of his help; your mouth hadn’t felt this dry since you’d woken up in a jail cell after an excessively heavy night in a saloon in Blackwater.

“I assume you’re wondering where you are?”

As you lowered your head back down, you gave a brief nod. You thought hard, struggling to retrieve your recent memories. You had escaped from Valentine, that you were sure of; and if this was a bounty hunter camp, you sure as well wouldn’t be unshackled on a bed. You vaguely remembered some kind of fight, gunshots and pain; your hand went to your hip, and the pain that shot through you as your hand touched the bandage quickly reminded you that it was you that had got shot.

“Well my dear, you’ve ended up in our little camp. We’re….well, I’d say we’re a family, but others call us the Van der Linde gang.”

Van der Linde…. The name seemed familiar, perhaps you had seen it on some of the bounty posters you’d come across on your travels? Though you did admittedly make a point of avoiding the Sheriff's offices where they normally hung.

“My name is Hosea. And I believe you have already met Mr Morgan?”

Arthur. Suddenly, the memories came flooding back; the lone stranger, the sound of your knives entering flesh, that arm pinning you close. You took a deep breath in, and propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the tall, wide man that now stood at the front of the makeshift tent.

“Arthur, sit here while I go inform Dutch that your mystery rescuer is awake”. Arthur nodded, taking a seat in Hosea’s place.

“You alright ma’am?” He had a strange look on his face, a mixture of concern and relief; you weren’t sure, but thought you probably had the same look. His face was bruised, with a black eye and cuts to his cheek; you could see his features a lot clearer now they weren’t streaked with blood. He had a few wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead; underneath his stubble, you could see numerous scars. He didn’t seem old, maybe 30, 35, but his skin and eyes denoted a hard life spent on the road.

“I think so” you finally managed to croak out. “Thanks to you”.

Arthur chuckled, and smiled. It was a kind smile, one that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

“That ain’t the way I remember it. I reckon it’s me that’s lucky you were around”.

You grinned back. “Yeh, I suppose it is; well at least we’re already even, you don’t owe me nothing thanks to bringing me here”. You meant it; after all, you were the one stupid enough to get involved in a fight that definitely didn’t concern you. Though, right now, you were fairly glad you had.

Arthur frowned slightly. “Now ma’am that’s not true; I’ll be owing you as long as ya see fit.”

Now this was new; a man, actively expressing that he owed you? You stared at him, waiting for him to laugh; you were surprised he’d even mentioned your part in the previous night’s events. Wait, you thought, was it even last night? Suddenly, you had a rush of questions.

“How long have I been here? Did my horse make it back? Where the hell is here exactly?”

Arthur smiled again as he stood up. You could sure get used to that smile, it felt calming.

“2 days, yes, and I ain’t tellin’ you that just yet” he chuckled. “Now rest while I go see if Pearson is done with the stew”.

You lay down again, already feeling exhausted just from the exertion of sitting up. Your heart had calmed, any panic had subsided; you closed your eyes, listening to the gentle murmur of conversations in the background.

------

As Arthur walked over to the provisions wagon, a wave of relief washed over him, as he felt himself relax for the first time in 2 days. The other gang members barely even stopped to question who the hell this girl was as he pulled her off horse, shouting for help. He’d been shooed away by Mary Beth and Miss Grimshaw as they set to work. He’d tried his best to stop the bleeding as he rode back to camp, but with the pain in his head and the effort of keeping the girl on the horse he wasn’t sure how much he’d done. Abigail had led him away to the tables by the campfire and sat with him, cleaning his face, while he answered Dutch and Hosea’s questions. Dutch’s questions were bordering on the paranoid, and when Arthur finally swore and slammed his fist into the table, making Abigail jump, Hosea dragged Dutch away.

He’d insisted that the girl was put in his tent, and his back ached from sleeping on the floor next to the cot. He knew the others were making comments about him staying there, sitting and staring at the girl. He didn’t care, all he could focus on was willing her to wake up. That morning was the first time he’d left the unconscious girl’s side, and only because Dutch had insisted he take Tilly and Karen into town to refresh supplies. He’d argued with Dutch about it; he felt incredibly protective of this girl, and wasn’t entirely sure why.

------

As the weeks passed, you spent more and more time helping around the camp where you could. It had been almost a week before Arthur had allowed you to properly leave the tent, and even then it was only because you’d convinced that young Irish lad to help you hobble over to one of the camp tables while Arthur was away. You’d insisted on helping the man you now knew to be Mr Pearson with chopping vegetables; if there was one thing you were good at, you joked, it was using a knife. Arthur had gotten slightly angry when he came back and saw you out and (barely) about, but a slight glare and wave of the knife had made him think twice about pushing the subject further.

Slowly but surely, the pain in your hip dulled, and you started to be able to limp a few metres unaided. As soon as you could, you’d convinced Arthur to get the bedroll and canvas off your saddle and got him to set you up a space of your own. He grumbled about it, but complied; he held his ground on its location however, and you’d therefore ended up right next to his tent, where he could see you. You were sure he watched you fall asleep some nights, but you didn’t really mind.

You’d spoken to Charles about your guilt for your brute of a horse; while you could just about sit on him again, with help, you were in no fit state to ride him anywhere. Charles kindly offered to take him out on a hunting trip, and after he realised that your horse happily carried two whole carcasses on his back, among other things, it became a regular thing.

And so camp life started becoming routine. It felt strange, being in one place for so long, around people that knew your name, made you laugh; you were starting to realise that maybe life could be a bit different. Your days were filled with camp chores; you were already fairly adept at skinning smaller animals, but appreciated Charles’ tips and guidance when it came to skinning deer and the like. In the evening, you sat around the campfire, drinking, laughing and singing; the majority of the time you sat next to Arthur, with whoever arrived first always making sure there was space for the other one next to them. Arthur had even made John move from a chair to the floor when the camp had been especially busy one evening; John had sworn at him, but as he saw you slowly limping over, he’d sighed, thrown his hands in the air in frustration and gone to sit next to Abigail. Towards the end of the evening, you’d inevitably find yourself leaning your head against Arthur’s shoulder. The first night you’d done it, you were so tired you barely knew what you were doing, and you froze when you realised; but Arthur had gently put his large arm around you, allowing you to relax into his side. It was warm, peaceful, and you’d found yourself looking forward to it every day he was around.

That day, by the time evening had rolled around, you were stressed. You’d almost dropped the stew thanks to your damn leg, and were growing frustrated with not being able to move around like you used to. You were sure you should be healed by now, but were still struggling to walk properly; you were starting to realise that your limp might be here to stay. At least the pain had subsided somewhat; it was still there though, and you were reminded every time you put a bit too much weight on that side. You were restocking the medicine wagon with the supplies some of the others had brought back from town when Miss Grimshaw approached you. She had an effect on you very few people did, even men; she made you feel uncomfortably nervous. You’d seen how she berated the others, even some of the men, for not pulling their weight or contributing to the camp fund.

“Good afternoon Miss (Y/N). I do hope you are being careful with those tonics; they’re not cheap you know.”

You breathed slowly, and nodded to her; you knew better than to swear or snap at Miss Grimshaw.

“Good. I will be discussing your contributions with Dutch later”.

As she walked away, you swore under your breath. “Shit.” You knew this day would come; while you kept yourself busy, you knew you were becoming a burden, and there was no space for someone like you in an outlaw gang. You bit your cheek, fighting the urge to launch a bottle of damn whiskey at the nearby tree and scream. Sighing to yourself, you continued with your chores, killing the time until you could relax around the campfire.

That evening, you settled on the log next to Arthur, his large hands on your waist helping to lower you down gently. You’d only just sat down when Hosea came over, carrying something.

“Here, my dear, this is for you. I asked Pearson to craft it.”

He passed the object over to you and you realised it was a cane. The top was adorned with a carefully carved fox head; while it wasn’t the fanciest cane you’d ever seen, it made you beam.

“Thank you Hosea! And thank you Mr Pearson. It’s fantastic.” You stood up, using your new cane to support yourself, and took a few steps around the fire.

“Ah now you’s can move around without having to cling to that old bastard” Sean chuckled, nodding towards Arthur. Arthur glowered at him as you laughed.

“And it’s perfect for smacking you round the back of the head when you get too much shite spilling from your gobby mouth Sean” you said, making the group chuckle. All except for Arthur; he was still frowning, and as you walked back over to the log, he stood up and walked over to Hosea in the entrance of his tent.

“Ah, while yer up, get us another bottle will ya (Y/N)!”

“Sure Sean” you answered, smiling.

Your short walk over to the crate of whiskey took you past the back of Hosea’s tent. Arthur and he appeared to be having a hushed argument; this was unusual, and you pretended to drop something so you could stay a brief moment to hear what they were saying.

“Why Hosea, why’d you give her a damn cane!”

You froze – you were just being nosy, you weren’t expecting to hear them arguing about you.

“Because she needs it Arthur!”

“She damn well doesn’t Hosea, and how’s she going to be able to help outside the camp with that thing at her side? She’s going to be hobbling around with it all the time and I sure as hell don’t want to see that!”

Shocked, you stumbled forwards and grabbed a whiskey before anyone questioned why you were taking so long. Your head was spinning; first Miss Grimshaw, now Arthur? You’d been letting him support you as you stood up and walked around the camp, but mostly because you liked the sly smile you were sure you saw when you put your arm around his waist. And, if you were honest with yourself, you were grateful for any excuse to touch him. You could get around the camp fine, albeit a bit slowly, while he wasn’t around. Obviously that had been a mistake, he too thought you were a burden, something you had not been expecting. You walked as fast as you could back to the others, not stopping to listen to the now quietened voices within the tent.

-------- “Arthur….”

“I know Hosea, I know.” Arthur sighed and put his head in his hands.

“It’s just… without it, I can forget she’s hurt. Now that cane is a reminder of what she did for me, and how it got her nearly killed. She didn’t even know me Hosea. That’s probably why she did it. Didn’t know I weren’t worth saving.”

“My dear boy… only she knows why she intervened. Let’s not forget she was going to rob you before the others turned up!”

Arthur allowed himself to smile slightly. While he’d liked seeing the girl safe in the camp, helping with the more mundane tasks of day-to-day camp life, every so often he was reminded of her past; the way she skillfully skinned a rabbit, Micah’s face when she slammed a throwing knife into the tree right next to his head from nearly 10m away when he’d got a bit too mouthy.

“Arthur, tomorrow, Dutch wants to talk to you about possibly moving camp. You need to speak to (Y/N) about if she’s staying on with us.”

Arthur shuffled his feet awkwardly; he’d been wanting to ask (Y/N) what her plans were for days, even weeks, but was scared about what her answer would be – not that he’d ever admit it to anyone. He nodded at Hosea, and turned to walk back to the fire, feeling his heart jump a bit when he saw the girl sat by the fire. His girl.

------- You sat by the fire, bottle in hand, barely listening to the chatter around you. “What the hell now?” you thought. You tried to reassure yourself that you were overreacting, you just needed to convince them tomorrow you could be more useful. Maybe you could donate some of your stash to the camp? That would surely buy you a few weeks grace until you could properly ride again. You barely noticed when Arthur sat down next to you; everyone knew better than to try and take a space either of you vacated now. Arthur paused, and gently rested his arm around your waist. You jumped up; or at least attempted to, half stumbling, falling on to your cane. Arthur quickly grabbed your arm, but you pulled away from him.

“I can manage.” You practically spit the words at Arthur, catching even yourself by surprise. Arthur looked surprised and glanced at Sean on the next log; Sean just shrugged and looked at away.

You sighed. “I’m turning in. Goodnight Mr Morgan.”

God you knew you could be sharp sometimes. But he deserved it, you thought; you’re a person, not a burden, and certainly not defined by your injury.

You’d barely sat down onto your bed roll when the unmistakeable shape of Arthur appeared at the end of your canvas.

“(Y/N)…..” His voice was soft, kind. But you were so angry at him.

“Arthur, whatever it is, it can wait till morning. Go back to the others.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, you knew your resolve would melt away if you did.

Arthur was taken aback, flustered by the continued anger directed at him. He thought he’d accidentally brushed your wound, or one of the others had said something, and was desperate to not have you angry.

“I…we…..Dutch says we’ve got to talk about you and moving on in the mornin’”.

“Fine. Again, goodnight Mr Morgan.”

-----

Arthur was in a foul mood now. He didn’t understand what he’d done, why she was suddenly angry at him. John must have said something to her about me, he thought to himself. He couldn’t believe how flustered he’d got, he barely managed to get a sentence out, and it was absolutely not what he was planning on saying. He knew well enough to leave people alone when they were in that state, so as much as he wanted to run back to her tent and hold her, to tell her how much he wanted her to stay, he didn’t. He sighed, grabbing a beer and sitting back down with the others.

------

That was it, you thought. “Dutch says we’ve got to talk about you and moving on in the mornin’”. It didn’t get much clearer than that. You were internally fuming; you couldn’t believe that they’d kick you out so easily, what with all the talk of loyalty that was so frequently bandied around. Well, screw them. You’d be gone before they had the chance.

You waited until everyone had gone to bed. A quick glance over your shoulder revealed Arthur facing away from you, towards the wagon. As quietly as possible, you packed your handful of belongings into your bedroll, grabbed your cane and set off around the back of the tents towards your horse. You were going to regret leaving your canvas behind, you knew it, but taking it down would make too much noise.

You were grateful for the cane as you tried to push your horse to stand next to a nearby hay bale. If your leg didn’t get any better soon, you were definitely going to have to sell him. There’s no way you could spring up onto his back now. You tucked your cane into the saddle, and you’d just swung yourself up onto his back, grimacing at the pain in your hip, as John appeared out of the trees. Shit.

“(Y/N)?” John was confused, half asleep.

“John, for the love of god, be quiet” you whispered. You waved him over, and confused, he stumbled over to you.

“John, I’m leaving. It’s been made clear to me I’ve overstayed my welcome, and I’m leaving before I’m pushed.” You slipped a ring off your finger. “Give this to Dutch, along with my thanks to everyone.”

“Wait, (Y/N), that’s not true.”

“It is John. He doesn’t want to see me and… well this…” you said, motioning at your leg and cane with your hand, nodding towards Arthur’s tent.

“Goodbye John. And thank you.”

John opened his mouth again, but it was too late. With a kick that made you swear with pain, you spurred your horse out of camp and onto the plains. You were heading to the only place you knew you could properly hide and not be found – your stash, in a cave tucked away in the forest in the Grizzlies. You prayed the O’Driscolls had moved on. Once you were there, you’d be safe - you just had to get there first…..

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead fanfic #hosea matthews #john marston #angst #fluff #rdr2 #fanfic #fic #original #Icantbelieveivestartedwritingfanficwhathaveidone

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