#and a slightly underdeveloped sense of scent

[frillyfacefins]

Btw if anybody would like to know how to burn milk

I can tell you

(I also have other very fun stories about burning things in extremely creative ways… Never on purpose, but that‘s what the mini fire extinguisher in the kitchen is for)

[toxicityriot]

Shishigumi Family AU Drabble:

Summary: Ibuki is up late at night, trying to wrap his head around the recent events of his (formerly) missing boss. Louis is awake too dealing with his own struggles and the lion comes to grip that he doesn't just see the young and stubborn buck as his boss or friend but as something more: family

Disclaimer: I've only seen the anime once and skimmed a few random manga pages to try and learn about characters (currently making slow progress on reading the whole thing online). I'm sorry if I butchered personalities and/or backstories in canon so I guess anything messed up would just be part of the AU lol.

Things were beginning to look like they were heading in the right direction. It only took about two months for things to start moving slow once more. Tensions have fallen and eased back into the normal casual lifestyle of the Shishigumi-or whatever the ‘norm’ for a ragtag group of lions keeping a rather taboo location in check. It was their norm anyway and they frankly did not care if anyone thought different. 

Despite the feeling of calmness washing over the rundown tower of a mansion, Ibuki could sense the underlying troubles that shook the members of the Pride down to its foundations. Even though the future was looking pretty good as of now, it had only just started to calm down after a rather devastating event that had even him sick to his stomach. He did not allow this feeling to really present itself publicly but he was still a bit shaken from the events that had unfolded a couple of months ago. 

It had started when the Shishigumi boss had run off, ordering his lion followers to stay behind. That it was his duty to help a friend. Normally, the lions would not care to meddle with high school drama or fighting students but with one of their own running straight into the snarling jaws of carnivores, it had them all worried. Ibuki could recall the sheer power and determination that blazed like orange flames in his boss’ copper colored eyes, mingled with the heavy scent of fear that radiated off his body like a furnace. A few of the lions almost broke their ‘promise’ to try and give their boss bacup after hearing about what this fight was about. But in the end, it was not their fight and they respected their boss too much to go against his orders. 

It had been a nerve wracking waiting game as the sun had slowly risen over the streets of the Market. They patiently waited for a sign. 

No calls, no texts, no check ins, and not a single letter. 

The Shishigumi boss had gone off the radar. Being an herbivore thrusting himself into a fight between two apex predators and had not returned, hope was slowly fading. By night three, the lions began to schedule patrols to keep an eye out for their horned friend, just in case. They kept their eyes and ears open in the market as well tracking any shipments of deer meat in the market just in case. 

By the end of the second week, there was still no sign of their missing boss and Ibuki had taken the role as the new leader of the Pride. It was heavily suspected that their friend had gotten too close to the deadly fight and had been devoured. It sickened Ibuki. He had grown fond of the deer and it devastated him to think of the outcome of that fight. 

Ibuki removed his glasses from his face with a sigh. It had only been about a week since Louis’ return and reassignment as boss once more. He could tell that whatever happened at that fight was troubling the boy. He never spoke of the full story in detail and that was his choice. He would respect that. The others did as well when they haute their poking and prodding but Ibuki had noticed that their were more changes to the former high school student than just physical. He noticed that he had slowly started to take better care of himself and was a lot more open on his thoughts and feelings than before. Even though these changes were not necessarily bad, it still left him in questions as to why. Louis had even halted his newfound carnivorous diet in favor of the much healthier greens he was supposed to be eating and gained a couple of pounds back in the process. He was still poorly underweight and underdeveloped for his age and species but Ibuki was proud to see the small glimmers of improvement in the field of self care. 

Small tap like thuds drew the old lion out of his thoughts as he redirected his attention to the flight of stairs. He had been so lost in his own head that he failed to realize that Louis was almost at the bottom of the staircase. He watched calmly as the deer slowly inched his way down, step by step with a hand on the wall for support, occasionally whispering small mutters to himself. Quite possibly cursing the terrible night vision he had as an herbivore. It was also good to see that Louis did not seem on edge at this hour of night as he seemed to have full trust in the Pride to not attack him when he was basically blind. A louder tap and a metallic thump let the deer know that he had made it safely down the stairs and with a flick of an ear, he adjusted his loosely fitted white shirt. Ibuki decided to make his presence known as he slowly strode towards the deer, making sure his footsteps were not light so as to not startle him. Wide unseeing copper eyes looked up and his head turned to the general direction of the footsteps. “Hey,” he greeted softly. 

Ibuki noticed the tiredness in the young buck’s voice and gave a small nod of his head. “Louis,” he returned the greeting warmly. “What are you doing up? With all due respect, i thought you would be asleep.”

Louis strugged a shoulder, not caring that the hem of the shirt has slipped over his shoulder. The lion could see the small white spots dotting the brown fur. He frowned slightly. He had only seen the fawn spots once before. Being brought up in the Market did its damage on the boy in more ways than one. “Couldn't sleep.” Louis slowly limped towards the kitchen, keeping one hand slightly away from his body to feel around his surroundings. “I could ask you the same thing.” The lion followed, impressed by the boy’s navigation skills. Even though he was relying on the sense of touch and his memory of the mansion’s layout, he seemed to be doing quite well in the dark. 

Being an herbivore living with a group of lions certainly had some of its perks. 

Ibuki observed the way Louis tended to keep most of his weight into his left leg with each step, putting only a small amount of pressure onto his prosthetic while he limped. He could tell the deer was trying to hide the limp but his efforts were not working well. He hung back a bit as he opened the fridge, squinting his eyes a bit to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness that flooded the kitchen with a white glow, just standing there as if debating what his next move would be. The lion glanced down and noted how his left leg hovered about an inch from the ground and how he gripped onto the fridge for support. His ears twitched and his tail swayed slowly. "Does it hurt, boss?"

Louis did not reply. In fact, he made no indication that he heard the question but it seemed to snap him out of his trance when he grabbed a bottle of water. He closed the fridge and leaned his back against the door, twisting the cap off and taking a drink. Ibuki wondered if he hit a nerve. 

"Yeah." Louis responded after another sip. He sighed and looked down, slowly moving his right leg as if observing it. "Sometimes it's like I can still feel my hooves on the ground. Sometimes it burns. Sometimes its just numb. Sometimes it's a little bit of all." Pushing himself off the fridge, he screwed the lid back on the now empty bottle and placed it back in the fridge in a drawer that held his own personal food items and drinks. "I try not to think about it too often. Thinking about it only makes the pain worse." 

There was a long silence that fell between carnivore and herbivore. Ibuki, just standing near the doorway of the kitchen and Louis, leaning against the fridge with his head down, antlers making soft scraping noises as they accidentally brushed against the fridge door. He could see the boy's ears were drooping, his tail low, and his eyes nearly closed with a sorrowful expression on his face. So many thoughts must be lurking in his head, so many questions about life in general. It was one of the many things that had changed since Louis’ return. He seemed to be more readable than ever yet so unpredictable. In fact, he was always unpredictable, especially from the start when he took the first bite of meat at the table, asserting his growing authority over the lions who had watched his every move with wonder and some disbelief. 

Ibuki ran his hand through his mane as Louis straightened himself a bit. The deer came closer, keeping his eyes downcasted as he seemed to follow the sound of the lion’s breath. Ibuki watched with concern that melted into confusion as Louis hesitantly leaned his head against his chest, careful not to accidentally impale him with the sharp ends of his antlers. He stood there, immensely unsure about the gesture. It wasn't until Louis’ smaller arms held onto him that he realized he was seeking comfort from whatever was plaguing his brain. Inuki slowly lowered himself to kneel on his knees to reduce the massive height difference and returned the embrace gently, hoping that his act of affection and care would sooth the boy. It was just another thing that made its way onto the unpredictable things to come from the smaller animal. Hell, he never would've thought that he even liked hugs but this interaction proved him wrong, 

“I'm sorry,” Louis had whispered as he moved his head to rest his chin on Ibuki’s shoulder. “I was harsh on you guys. All you wanted to do was help and I turned your offers down. I should have let told you that i was still alive and-”

“With all due respect boss, i'm going to stop you right there.” Ibuki gently pulled Louis off on him and laid his hands on his shoulders, a soft look from his eyes even if he couldn't see it. “You don't need to apologize for anything. You were loyal to your wolf friend and helped him out when things got ugly. You put the ones you cared about first before your own needs and that says something about a person.” The lion smiled, gently scratching the fur behind the deer’s left ear. “You might have antlers instead of a mane, hooves for claws, and flat teeth in place of fangs but you damn well have the heart and soul of a lion. I dont think ive ever heard or witnessed another herbivore like yourself doing what you did back there. I know you made a remark about me not being your father but Louis...im proud of you, as if…” he trailed off, studying Louis' expression for a sign to continue. He could not see any negative thoughts or maybe even a furrowed brow of disgust. Hell, if anything, his expression was completely unreadable. 

He could not bring himself to say it, at least not yet. He just simply gave a small nod and a smile. “All that I'm trying to say is that I'm glad to have you back with us, Louis. You're always welcome here as our Boss, friend, and a part of our family.” Ibuki slowly raised himself back to his feet, giving Louis a playful rub between his antlers. “It was nice talking with you, son,” he added. He saw Louis’ ears perk up straight at the nickname. “ I'll let you get back to whatever you were wanting to do. I'll see you in the morning. Try not to stay up too late. You need your sleep.” As Ibuki made his way out of the kitchen, he could still feel the deer’s eyes on his back, following the movement of his departure as he made his way up the stairs for the night.

    Night had fallen and the morning had come. Ibuki was greeted to a rokous in the dubbed ‘recreational room’ as he watched the lions chat amongst themselves as they played a video game. He could pick out Agata and Free sitting on the floor in front of the television, Dope behind Free, Dolph a few steps away, Hino and Jinma watching every now and then as they spoke about their own thing, and Sabu crouched near Dope. Between Free and Agata sat Louis, the three of them going head to head in a heated game of Claws Of Duty on the TV. Ibuki did not exactly have the same interest in the video game but he took amusement in the younger members competing on who can score the most kills or who slaughters who first. He faintly heard Dope exclaim “kick his ass, boss” just before one of the sections of the screen displayed a kill animation for a round of bullets to an avatar's head, followed by Free’s groan of defeat in his loss and Agata’s laugh before he looped an arm around Louis’ neck in a celebratory semi embrace. 

    The eldest of the lions smiled. Things were indeed looking good for the Shishigumi, the band of mischievous lions and a theater performer of a young buck. He could not ask for anything better. 

[asweetprologue]

a dark and wicked thing

Octoberfest 8: Phobia (whumptober #18)

Geralt doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. 

They’re hunting venomous arachas - nasty business, in Geralt’s opinion. They’re exceptionally dangerous to humans and more of a nuisance to him, their toxins rendered an annoyance by his mutations. A quick Golden Oriole before engaging with a group of them makes it easy going, and he’s already cleaved through a large number of them. But the ones they’d already encountered had been small, underdeveloped, and Geralt knows that there must be a queen nearby laying eggs. He spends the better part of an hour looking for a place where she might be hiding, and thinking about what the hell he wants to do with Jaskier, before he finds the cave entrance. 

The bard is currently trailing after him, chattering away about how he’s going to find something to rhyme with chitin. Geralt turns away from the entrance to the cavern, barely a noticeable hole in the ground, and interrupts him. Jaskier’s eyebrows shoot up in an offended look, but he does have the decency to shut up and listen. “We’re going to have to follow it back to its nest,” Geralt says. Jaskier adjusts the bag on his shoulder, lute exchanged for more practical medical supplies and witcher potions. Geralt had said he could come along if he did something helpful, so he’d been manning the supplies. 

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” he says, cheerful as ever. Geralt rolls his eyes.

“You’re coming along,” he says. “Unless you want to get eaten by a stray arachas.”

Jaskier pales, probably at the idea of a giant spider making him lunch. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows heavily. “Oh. I thought you, ah, took care of those? I thought you wanted me to stay back until it was all wrapped up.”

“What, suddenly you’re not eager to follow me into the maw of certain death?” Geralt asks, shooting Jaskier a raised eyebrow. He stuck his boot down inside the small hole, testing the edge for footholds. Under the dirt the rock wall is solid, offering plenty of rough surfaces to catch himself on. He glances back up at Jaskier, who looks faintly nauseated. Strange; he wasn’t usually so adverse to delving into dangerous situations. Maybe he’s finally developing a sense of self preservation. 

“Perhaps the maw,” Jaskier says nervously, “but the belly is what concerns me.”

Geralt decides not to dignify that vague statement with a response, instead dropping himself down into the hole. It’s wide enough that he doesn’t feel worried about his swords catching on the sides, but close enough that he can lean back and brace himself against the opposite wall if needed. The bottom is only fifteen or so feet down, and Geralt drops the last five into a slightly larger area. Damp, porous stone holds him in a close embrace, and Geralt spares a moment to be grateful that he’s not claustrophobic. He has to lean over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, but he can hear echoes of dripping water and clattering stone down the way that promises a wider area ahead. A few scattered pieces of rubble bounce harmlessly off of his shoulder, and Geralt moves aside to make room as Jaskier slides the last few feet down into the cave. He’s slung the pack with its delicate potions around his front, and takes a moment to right it as he gets his bearings, eyes wide.

“Well this is cozy,” Jaskier says. His tone is jovial, but something about his scent isn’t right. He’s scared of something, Geralt realizes, confused. He knows Jaskier isn’t claustrophobic - the number of times they’ve had to squeeze themselves into tiny closets to avoid Jaskier’s irate lovers is testament to that. Being in close proximity makes Geralt’s heart rate accelerate for entirely different reasons, but Jaskier has never seemed bothered either way. Often Geralt has wished that Jaskier was more prone to fits of panic. He always seems to put full faith in Geralt, trusting the witcher to protect him. Geralt is pathetically grateful for it even as it fills him with terror. 

Geralt regards Jaskier intently, tracking the way his breath hitches and his eyes skirt around the narrow space. Maybe he’s afraid of the monsters they’re hunting. If he’s smart, that’s all it is. “Come on,” Geralt says. Whatever is bothering Jaskier, he’ll either come out with it or he’ll move past it once they’re out of here and the job is done. The faster they move, the quicker that will be the case. 

Geralt stalks ahead, pulling his silver sword from its sheath as he moves slowly forward into the dark. It’s awkward in the small space, but he’d rather have it in his hand than be unprepared when an arachas drops down on them. He can hear Jaskier’s footsteps after him, unsure and unsteady. Geralt frowns at the floor, trying to focus on looking for tracks instead of Jaskier’s odd behavior. 

They leave the small passage, coming into a larger area scattered about with stalactites that drip with perspiration. The smell of damp stone is a cool backdrop to the cloying stench of acidic decomposition. They’re close. 

Geralt doubles back to where Jaskier is standing at the exit of the tunnel, shoulders tense and fingers clutches the straps of the pack in a white knuckled grip. The sour fear-sweat-anxiety scent around him is more intense than Geralt’s ever experienced before. He reaches out and puts a hand on Jaskier’s arm, just above his elbow, and the bard jumps like a startled animal. 

“Sorry,” Geralt says, and means it. “I need Cat.”

Jaskier nods jerkily. Geralt’s concern grows, but he focuses on retrieving the potion. It’s hard to tell them apart in the dim light, but Geralt knows the smell of them better than he knows his own name. He downs the Cat, the world coming into sharp focus around him in shades of black and white and greenish gray. Jaskier’s face looks even more wan in the odd lighting, his eyes wide and dilated. It puts Geralt on edge. 

“They’re up ahead,” he says, giving Jaskier’s shoulder one last squeeze. “Stay here.” He turns, preparing to head in the direction of the acidic smell, but Jaskier lunges for him, gripping the edge of Geralt’s shirt clumsily. His eyes don’t meet Geralt’s searching gaze. “What?” Geralt asks, impatient. 

Jaskier’s breath puffs out between them, shaky. “I can’t see,” he says, and Geralt would have expected it to sound petulant but instead Jaskier’s voice is thin and reedy. Geralt stops, letting Jaskier take his wrist in a grip that might be bruising on a human. “It’s too dark,” Jaskier says, “I can’t see anything, I don’t know where you are, Geralt -” His voice is climbing into panic, and Geralt flounders, unsure of what to do. He’d never seen Jaskier so upset, his heartbeat pounding away in fear. 

“Jaskier,” he says, unable to mask the shock in his tone, “are you afraid of the dark?”

“Yes, Geralt, apparently I fucking am,” Jaskier hisses, and Geralt is glad that Jaskier can at least still sound pissed at him. “This isn’t dark, this is fucking - blackness, I can’t see shit. Don’t leave me, please, Geralt, I can’t.” He’s babbling, his breaths labored as they struggle out of his chest in shallow heaves. Geralt steps close again, raising a hand to cup Jaskier’s jaw. He isn’t sure what else to do. It seems to calm Jaskier to some degree, though his fingers still clutch around Geralt’s wrist.

“I can see,” Geralt says, “and I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t, Jaskier. But I have to kill the queen.” Jaskier’s jaw clenches. Geralt can feel it beneath his fingertips, a twitch of muscle. 

Jaskier takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay. Okay, I’m fine. Go… do your thing.” 

Geralt can still hear Jaskier’s heart racing in his chest. He hates it, at this moment, leaving Jaskier behind. He always hates it, but he’s never had to do it when Jaskier is gasping like a fish out of water and the smell of fear is permeating the air around him. Geralt is seized by the desperate need to do something, anything to make it better, so he reaches out and pulls Jaskier to him. The bard let’s out a short gasp before he realizes what’s happening, instantly wrapping his arms around Geralt to clutch at his back. Geralt finds himself holding the back of Jaskier’s head gently, cradling his skull. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he says into Jaskier’s hair. He feels so solid under Geralt’s hands, chest heaving as if he’s run a great distance. Geralt pulls back and cups Jaskier’s face in both hands. “I’ll be back for you.”

“I know,” Jaskier says, shaky but full of that strange, implicit trust. Geralt pulls away and turns before he can change his mind.

It takes very little time to find the arachas nest, nestled a few chambers away from the main room. The bulbous eggs have a slight glow to them that’s almost bright to Geralt’s enhanced vision, allowing him to quickly spot the hulking form of the arachas queen crouched against the back wall. He doesn’t hesitate, launching into a brutal attack. The arachas is startled and unprepared, and Geralt gives it no time to recover or retaliate. His mind is on Jaskier, alone in the other room, panicked and unable to see a potential threat. 

His blade makes its way home faster than it has in a long time. 

A short blast of igni has both the body and the egg sacs burning away, and Geralt nearly runs back into the entrance where he left Jaskier. For a moment he doesn’t see him, and his stomach clenches with dread. 

Then he draws nearer, and he sees the huddled form against the wall. Relief sweeps through him. He tries to project his movements, stepping loudly as he approaches. “Jaskier,” he says, and the bard raises his head so quickly Geralt fears for his neck. There are tear streaks down his face, and Geralt’s heart clenches in sympathy and guilt. Crouching before him, he says, “I’m sorry. It’s done.”

Jaskier reaches out a hand, and Geralt finds himself leaning into it eagerly, reaching back. As soon as his fingers find Geralt’s chest, Jaskier lets out a relieved breath. “Can we go?” His voice is small, and Geralt hates it. 

He hums in affirmation and pulls Jaskier to his feet, allowing the bard to cling to him. “We can go,” he says. “Hold onto my shoulder.”

They make their way back through the short tunnel, Jaskier gripping Geralt’s sword holster tightly. The area just below the entrance is not entirely pitched black, and Geralt can feel Jaskier calming the closer they get. Geralt scales back up the wall first, emerging in the calm afternoon of the forest. Jaskier scrambles up soon after, using a rope that Geralt tosses down to haul their bags up first. It’s too bright up above with the Cat still running through his veins - normally he would have waited below until it had run its course, but he’s glad, now, to squint at Jaskier’s face through the intense light. Jaskier, for his part, flops over onto the ground next to him, breathing hard. 

Geralt drops down next to him, a frown furrowing his brow. “So no more caves,” he observes. 

Jaskier glares at him with bloodshot eyes, and ah, yes, there’s the petulance Geralt had been looking for earlier. “I’m certainly not doing that again,” he says with vehemence. Geralt smiles down at him, reaching out to push Jaskier’s hair back from his sweaty forehead. Their eyes meet, Jaskier’s fatigued. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt says. “I shouldn’t have brought you along.”

Jaskier sits up so quickly they almost smack foreheads. “Oh no,” he says, pointing a finger in Geralt’s face. Geralt blinks at it, bemused. “You are not using this as an excuse to leave me behind on hunts. I refuse. I’ll follow you. I’ll tie myself to Roach.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Geralt chuckles. “Even if I have to go in a cave?”

Jaskier hesitates, but then huffs defensively. “I’ll bring a torch. You’re not leaving me behind.”

Geralt smiles, affection rising in his chest. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I try,” Jaskier says, and the grin he gives Geralt is genuine and free of fear. Geralt can hear his heartbeat, steady between them. “It would be easier if you cut me some slack.”

“Don’t count on it,” Geralt says, and pulls himself to his feet. “Now come on; we’ve gotta collect venom sacks.” He offers a hand down to Jaskier.

Jaskier makes a face, but takes the offered hand anyways. Geralt pulls him up, holding him close and steady for a moment longer than necessary. The next several hours are spent on harvesting, a job that Jaskier detests but insists on helping with. And as Geralt is watching Jaskier grimace, up to his elbows in ichor, he thinks it might not be a difficult problem to fix. Light charms aren’t cheap, but he knows a few mages that owe him favors. The look of pleased surprise on Jaskier’s face will be worth the trouble. It’s for the best, he thinks. The bard truly is a danger to himself, but Geralt is stuck with him, it seems. As Jaskier looks up to triumphantly wave a venom gland at him, Geralt thinks it might not be such a bad thing.

[cognacdelights]

Teenage Dirtbags | 002. — A Right Hook A Day

Summary: In which, an out of control teenager is sentenced to a summer in the Outer Banks to come to come to terms with her mother’s untimely death, and reform her rebellious, troublesome ways before she does irreversible damage.

Authot’s Note: Sooo this is the second chapter of the “Teenage Dirtbags” series and it’s one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written. Marnie was my original child (before Indie - although Indie is lowkey my favourite), and there is so much of myself in her so I hope you love her as much as I do. As always, masterlists will be linked below and feel free to message me, pop an ask in my ask box or reply to this if you would like to be added to the taglist. 

Warnings: This series may contain mature themes/content throughout including but not limited to swearing, sexual language and/or scenes, substance abuse and mentions of death. 

Word Count: 3367.

Teenage Dirtbags Series Masterlist.

Fill The Void General Masterlist.

This gif is not mine, all credit goes to the owner. 

002. — A Right Hook A Day

There were several trivial pleasures in life that Marnie Sinclaire just couldn't resist; cherry pie, boys and a party. There was just something about the unmistakable, alluring aroma of cheap beer, teenage lust and bad decisions that really got her endorphins flowing. Parties were her safe space - her haven; they were the one place on Earth that Marnie could do just about whatever she wanted, whatever numbed the hollow, vacant ache that haunted her chest, and she never had to take even so much as a slither of the blame. She was devoid of all and absolute responsibility. If she was a tease, it was all down to the entrancing, provocative music they were playing. If she so happened to kiss somebody’s boyfriend, it was the infinite number of premium, export strength vodka shots that persuaded her to do it. If she found herself embroiled within a vicious cat-fight with the spiteful, pretentious girls from across the river - it was the obligatory capsules of molly, not her. It was never her. There was always some kind of justification that excused her reckless and wild behaviour, and that made her feel invincible for those sole, precious hours of anarchy.

So, when the audacious, unruly brunette found herself graciously clambering down the drain pipe of her grandparents' house, it was of no surprise to the girl. Despite her impassive, frigid reception of the boy with the devilish glint lurking within the amber speckles of his dark, mocha eyes, he had tempted her into joining them down at the boneyard. Although, admittedly, Marnie didn't need much convincing when it came to partaking in boozy social gatherings - and there was a minimal internal debate on whether she should test the waters with her grandparents so early in her sentence. Of course, in true Marnie Sinclaire fashion, she had opted to. After spinning them an improvised, fabricated exaggeration of how the eight and a half hour journey to the Outer Banks had utterly wiped her out, and proceeding to inform them of her plans to recuperate with an early night, she disappeared up the varnished, cedar wood staircase. Several outfit changes and a nonchalant application of peach-tinted lip gloss later, and she was descending from the perilous heights of her second story window.

By the time Marnie had reached the section of beach that had affectionately been nicknamed the boneyard, the ruthless, Mid-Atlantic sun had retreated behind the distant horizon. A captivating concoction of magenta hues and coral tinges had painted themselves across the Outer Banks skyline in a vibrant, bewitching haze, and the previously unbearable humidity had dissipated into a comfortably tepid draught. It had still been relatively light when she had committed her great escape - however she was unfamiliar with the intricate island pathways and had to rely merely on the tinny echoes of the teens' portable speaker to locate the unwinding get together. Marnie may have taken the scenic route, courtesy of her underdeveloped sense of direction, but she had eventually arrived.

All of half an hour had passed since the bright-eyed, fair-skinned beauty's arrival at the ocean-front gathering, yet she had found herself engulfed in a crowd of loafer-clad, polo-shirt-adorning country club boys. However, there was one mousy-haired, stiff-jawed boy in particular that Marnie had made a particular impression on; the playful, wicked glint that occupied her luminous, cerulean eyes had lured him in - but the acid-wash, denim shorts that desperately clung to the curvaceous contours of her slim-lined figure had ultimately seduced him. His large, gentle hand rested on the exposed skin of her upper thigh, as his soft, coaxing lips brushed ever so slightly against the delicate skin of her pierced earlobe, "you look incredible." A subtle waft of his Paco Rabanne aftershave filled her nostrils as his deep, raspy tone purred amorously into her ear. It was a scent which she knew oh too well, yet one that never really impressed her. It was more of a distasteful, indiscreet display of wealth rather than for the sake of actual hygiene purposes.  

"Just incredible?" Marnie challenged with a low, flirtatious hum - mimicking his ardent tone. Her sprightly, indigo eyes nonchalantly fluttered closed the second his masterful, delicate lips connected with the nape of her neck. The fair-haired boy began to litter sloppy, yet lustfully tender, kisses along her rose-tinted skin - mumbling a barrage of incoherent compliments in the process. His placid, velvet-like fingertips reached the sensitive plains of her inner thigh, leisurely encroaching on the lightly frayed hem of her sleek, denim shorts. The obviously well-off boy was very much aware that he was pushing his luck with the entrancing Brooklyn native, nevertheless he continued on with his pursuit into the uncharted territory - aiming to be the first in the race to place down his metaphorical flag and claim the terrain as his own in a bid for self validation.

"You are a fucking goddess," his fervid, lustful words vibrated against her freckled, alabaster complexion - his voice thick and gravelly - as her wandering mind fixated on the intense, rhythmic pulsing radiating from the nearby speaker. Marnie responded subconsciously by arching her back, as the heat of his whiskey-laced breath tantalised her most sensitive of nerves. "There's so many things that I want to do to you, princess" he proceeded to purr hankeringly, "so many positions that I want to take you in, so many places that I want to make you cum." She could feel the intrepid warmth of his dauntless fingertips intruding beneath the hemline of her shorts, a mere millimetres reach from the champagne, flower-patterned lace of her g-string.

"Slow down, Usain Bolt. This is a marathon, not a sprint," Marnie teased - her voice laced frivolously with her signature, provocative tenor. Her dainty lavender-painted fingertips coiled themselves around his wrist, guiding his meandering, clammy palms from beneath the frazzled hemline of her figure-hugging shorts. Casually, she turned her head to peer upwards at the upper-class boy, her beryl orbs occupying a sprightly glimmer as the corners of her glazed lips curled upwards into an innocent smile. "How about I get us some drinks?"

Removing herself from the confinements of his sordid, sun-burnt grasp, Marnie left the boy little time to object, beginning her leisurely stroll along the picturesque tidelands. The coarse silt particles beneath her off-white, worn-in Converse was uneven - and shifted unpredictably in every which direction under the light pressure of her footsteps. As someone accustomed to the static tarmac of Brooklyn's infamous streets, the doe-eyed brunette found the malleable surface difficult to navigate. It was yet another minute detail on an ever-growing list of contradictions to the world she was so fondly acquainted with, and desired to be reunited with.

Only a few, short minutes had passed before the troublesome vixen had - quite literally - stumbled upon the queue of drunken partygoers leading up to the beer keg, the ivory sand loosening beneath her cautious footsteps. The oddly alluring fragrance of cheap, low percentage beer forcefully invaded her airways, giving Marnie the unrivalled feeling of home; she relished in the one, trivial comfort she had managed to locate on the insufferable, out-of-touch island as she waited patiently for the line to diminish. There were several boys in the queue before her; all three of them drastically exceeding six foot, bare-chested and their tanned complexions adorning flattering splatters of salt water droplets that reflected celestially under the fire-lit lanterns.

As she eventually reached the front of the queue, Marnie was greeted by a much anticipated familiar face. The same golden-skinned boy who had delivered groceries to her grandparents' house stood before her - his large palm swaddling the beer tap, as his brawny, athletic figure guarded the half-empty keg. A haughty, complacent smirk etched itself into his defined features; after his earlier, sullen encounter with the pale-skinned virago, he was taken aback by her presence - but not disappointed. "Well, well, we-"

"Payment is required upfront," the brash, blonde-haired boy beside John B drowned out his mocking tone with his bold, cocksure words. A dauntless grin had proudly painted itself across his sun-kissed complexion, as his piercing, cobalt eyes glanced downwards at the petite, cinnamon-haired girl - appreciating all the fine, minute details of her being. Her skin, although pale, exhibited a naturally healthy and radiant glow, as the pinnacles of her prominent cheek bones displayed faint speckles of freckles. Her satin, blush-coloured lips were full and plump, and shaped perfectly by her pronounced cupid's bow. Marnie had an effortless kind of beauty to her - as even without her usual, heavy cosmetic aesthetic, she still attracted and secured the attention of the foreign, North Carolina boys.

"Payment?" she challenged the boy, arching her natural, dark eyebrows out of pure contest. His brazen demand for something in exchange for a mere half-filled cup of lukewarm, lingering on out of date beer was more than absurd to her. However, Marnie had to continually remind herself that these were North Carolina boys that she was dealing with; they were a whole different breed to the ones she had grown up with on the crime-ridden streets of Brooklyn. Perhaps, parties were simply not for the sake of sweet, teenage rebellion in these sandy plains, maybe they were an organised, profitable event and the boy with the wavy, mahogany locks had simply neglected to inform her of that fact. Her intense, perplexed gaze landed upon John B, who simply shrugged his broad shoulders in a casual display of confusion - neither confirming, nor denying, her theory.

"A kiss for a cup," the shaggy-haired blonde flirtatiously informed her, his sculpted, burly arms folding across his chest in his infamous, nonchalantly cavalier manner. The temptation to roll her sapphire eyes at his arrogant, pompous demeanour was more than abundant; the boy was not a budding, young entrepreneur offsetting his business enterprise early in life, he was merely an arrogant, over-confident teenage boy whose life direction revolved solely around the erratic, hormonal urges of his penis. "Sorry, babe, it's the island rules."

The over-whelming glint of mischief laced itself within the deep, sapphire flecks of Marnie's eyes, as she peered upwards through her thick, voluminous lashes, "just one kiss, hmm?" Her tone was playful, yet aloof, as she leisurely twirled the kinked ends of her cascading, chestnut wisps around the tip of her finger. An ever so slight, angelic pout graced her inviting, peach-toned lips as her head cocked innocently to the side, awaiting confirmation from the still nameless boy with the tousled, dirty blonde hair. He nodded his head assuredly - a slither of him astounded that his crass, amorous advances hadn't been met with pure, resentful outrage, as those he had previously accosted had reacted with.

Marnie took a small, confident step closer to John B. Her delicate, gentle palms placed either side of his elegantly sculpted cheeks, holding him in place, as the battered heels of her dirt-covered Converse rose up from the coarse particles beneath her. As the whimsical girl angled her makeup-less face upwards - her luscious, gloss-coated lips brushed against John B's. She was almost instantaneously met with the all too familiar taste of Keystone Light; the combined malt and bitter tang had temporarily stained his soft, welcoming lips. His large, paw-like hand held her at the nape of her neck - his touch light and placid - as he eased into the impassioned synchronisation. A low, lascivious grunt caught in the depths of his throat as her front, pearly teeth sank tauntingly into the swollen flesh of his bottom lip, lightly nibbling the delicate skin. She proceeded to drag her teasing, salacious tongue along the length of his lip, tenderly caressing the light indents. His gentle lips parted in submission, allowing her tormenting tongue to entangle itself with his own in an abruptly ardent embrace.

"Who's rolling out the welcome wagon now?" John B's low, husky voice chuckled as his lips retreated cautiously from Marnie's. Releasing the petite, bodacious brunette from his gentle hold, a smug, haughty smirk upturned the corners of his beer-laced, gloss-stained lips. His dark, untamed eyebrows raised in an arrogantly, quizzical manner as he waited patiently upon a response from the loud-mouthed, quick-witted girl before him.

"Still you, John B," Marnie quipped back instantly - complacent smirk etching itself into the doll-like features of her freckled complexion, "you've thrown me a welcome party and everything. You've really outdone yourself as well, although I would reconsider on who you hire for service - it seems as though he likes to take advantage of the guest of honour."

"You're trouble, you, aren't you?" the dark-haired boy anticipated with an amused chortle, pulling a singular red cup from the crumpled, plastic packaging laying atop the ivory sand. As if it came as second nature to him, John B applied the slightest touch of pressure to the keg tap, filling the cliché party cup with the golden, bitter beverage. The stream of beer flowed at a steady pace, hitting the side of the cup at an approximately forty five degree angle - to leave as little head as possible on the bordering stale lager.

"I resent the word trouble." Marnie took the disposable cup from the olive-skinned boy, his robust, athletic figure towering above her petite frame. Taking a generous sip of the cheap, college-grade beer, her doe-like, cerulean eyes peered atop the plastic rim. "You've got a little lip gloss on your mouth," she stated, the minor echoes of a giggle evident in the inflections of her lighthearted tone. Casually, she reached her dainty hand upwards, gently wiping away the remnants of her bubblegum-tinted gloss with a tender slide of her thumb.

"What, it didn't suit me?" John B countered banteringly - his bushy, untamed eyebrows raising upwards in an impudently brazen manner. His admirably chiselled arms crossed over his almost-bare, toned chest, shielding his loosely buttoned, pattern-printed shirt from flapping in the mild breeze. As the early-summer night had progressed, the once unbearable temperature had began to decrease significantly, and the occasional gust of wind had picked up into a steady, comfortable flurry.

"Nah, wasn't your colour," she divulged teasingly, taking another lavish gulp of her somewhat refreshing, alcoholic beverage, "it didn't complement your eyes and it definitely clashed with that hideous shirt you're wearing." Perhaps her caustically facetious words were a sliver too brazen for just their second interaction, although the thoroughly entertained grin which danced across his sun-soaked features indicated that John B hadn't taken her playful words to heart.

"Come on now, trouble, I can pull off any col-"

"What do you think you're doing macking on my girl, Routledge?" the roaring, irate voice of notorious posh boy, Rafe Cameron, crudely interrupted the boy mid sentence; it had become somewhat of a recurring theme throughout the evening. The older, less-athletically built boy proceeded to wade his way through the gathering of parched party-goers - his accompanying posse of fellow mindless, well-off minions following in close proximity behind. His work-shy hands were balled into tight, heavy fists, clenched in anticipation of the brawl that he inevitably expected to result from their heated exchange.

"Your girl?" the blonde-haired boy, adorning the discoloured muscle tee, antagonised the situation - his derisive words and coarse, mocking tone only provoking the enraged Cameron boy further, "didn't look like she was your girl when she was all up on my boy, John B just now."

"Was he talking to you, trailer trash?" one of Rafe's carbon-copy puppets hollered from the safety of several feet away. The shorter, feistier blonde stepped forward, his jaw clenched and his already-bruised fists clamped in preparation of the imminent altercation. Aware of his friend's lengthy, complicated history with the law, John B outstretched the palm of his large hand - serving as a makeshift barrier between the two cockfighting blondes, and silently urging his already probation-sentenced friend to fall back. This seemed to appease the short-statured boy for now as he retreated back a few reluctant steps, loosening his jaw.

"So what if I was macking on your girl, what are you going to do about it?" John B confronted the furious Figure Eight toff, taunting him further with his jesting, sarcasm-laced tone as he advanced forward, "are you going to throw daddy's money at me, like you do with all your other problems?" The umber-eyed boy with the dark, wayward waves had struck a nerve with Rafe Cameron; the snide, sneering words hurled towards him had rattled the trust-funded socialite - his scrawny, lacklustre body brimming with unprecedented rage. Acting on pure, neanderthal instinct, he swung his clenched fist towards John B, his garish, white knuckles grazing against the tanned highs of his cheek bone. John B stumbled backwards as the force of Rafe's tensed, curled-up fist connected with his face.

"Woah, back off, Donald Trump Jr," Marnie brazenly injected herself into the brawl; she shoved Rafe with as much strength and capability that her dainty, diminutive figure could muster, aiming to put as much distance between the two scuffling boys as possible. Her venomous tongue spat it's infamous poison in disapproval of the affluent blonde and his barbaric actions - utter disgust conspicuous within her harsh, reprimanding voice. She stared upwards at him, her unsympathetic, indigo eyes burning into his roseate features as she awaited his next move with hitched and bated breath.

"Stay out of this, bitch," Rafe hissed at the capricious brunette, lacking any fragments of hesitation as he returned the shove - only harder. The disposable, plastic cup that Marnie had remained in possession of crumpled under the sheer force of the repugnant Cameron boy's vigor, carelessly spilling it's alcoholic contents over her cropped, cream top. Although it was uncomfortable and tacky against her fair skin, her beer-doused garments were not the primary source of her superlative fury; Marnie Sinclaire absolutely despised, detested and resented the word bitch - especially when used as a derogatory slander to defame a woman. In Marnie's eyes, it was the most degrading slur of them all, and nothing boiled her blood quite like it.

In retaliation to his vulgar turn of phrase, the infuriated Brooklyn-born vixen found herself unconsciously launching her contracted fist at Rafe - knocking him backwards as her dainty knuckles connected with his crooked, concave nose, "who's the bitch now, bitch?" Her sour, sardonic words rang through his ears like the blaring chimes of the island's church bell, as his flaring temper toppled over at the brim. Raising his clenched fist once again, he directed his rage-filled, balled-up hand towards Marnie.

"I don't think so, man," the shorter, blonde-haired boy who had previously accosted the dark-haired girl, grabbed onto the ironed collar of Rafe's Ralph Lauren polo shirt before he could lay a hand on her. He negligently yanked the obnoxiously hostile Cameron boy from Marnie's vicinity, proceeding to thrust his gaunt, bony carcass towards the two witless clones that swarmed around the abhorrent boy. A bitter, hateful glare contorted his fair features as he remained on guard, willing and ready to pounce on the occasion that round two would commence with the feisty, short-statured boy adorning the beer-stained muscle tee.

"This isn't over, Routledge, Maybank," Rafe Cameron spat viciously, addressing the two South side boys directly - before wiping the meandering trail of blood leaking from his quickly bruising nose. Accepting his defeat for the moment, the embarrassed boy retreated back to the safety of the Figure Eight neighbourhood to tend to both his physical and metaphorical wounds, his agitated grumbles growing quieter as he disappeared into the unkempt foliage.

"Can someone get me some ice?" the lager-soaked brunette requested, a tinge of concern unmistakable in her distressed voice. Her luminous, cobalt orbs glanced towards the quick-tempered blonde and the anxious, dark-skinned boy who had appeared beside him now that the looming threat of violence had subdued - hoping one or the other would make an offer.

"I'll be fine," John B dismissed her with a simple, lackadaisical wave of his hand, "Rafe can't throw punches for shit."

"No, you moron, not for your face, for my hand. That fucking hurt."

Taglist: @drewsephsmiles​ @spilledtee​ @bellaguarneri​ @outrbanks​ @ilovejjmaybank​ @milamaybank​ @jjtheangel​ @shawnssongs​ @jayjaymaebank​ @jjouterbanks​ @ptersparkers​ @jjcultmain​ @summerintheobx​ @captainpogue​ @rudyypankow​ @rudypankow-whore​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​ @anonymous0writer​ @danandphilfan6​ 

[magmahurricane]

Guardians

[[ A gift for @nuttyrabbit​​ since today’s his birthday! This is the longest fic I wrote, and features a future version of his recently-introduced OC, Mach, and our shared kid OC, Journey (in this verse, named Nozomi Hibiki) as they traverse Osakiru - the Mobius counterpart to Japan that Nutty developed for his characters. Enjoy! ]] 

Airigasaki, Osakiru.

Mach heaved a sigh as he rested the nail-bat against his shoulder, peering out at the chaos and embers from behind his signature oni mask. People screamed, cried, and called out for help, for loved ones, for a savior that would not come. The sirens in the distance were nearly drowned out by the crackling of the flames, the hollers of the Sons of the Oni crew and cries of anguish from their victims.

He watched, breathing in the heavy smoke and feeling the heat blasting against his body, the scent and sounds of death around him all but drowned out by his own thoughts.

This was still Lord Frost’s country, and as long as Mach drew breath, he was going to do everything in his power to remind the people of that fact. Frost’s legacy was in his veins, in his heart; so long as Mach kept going, his legacy would never die.

--

Nozomi stirred, blinking slowly. Something had nudged her awake. She wanted to sleep, mumbling, huffing as she nestled deeper against the… garbage bags? She was nudged again.

Opening her eyes, she was greeted by the sight of a baseball bat, wrapped in barbed wire behind held out at her. The owner knelt down to her level, his clothes tattered and torn, his face hidden behind a wooden, scary mask. … Or at least, a mask that would be scary to most children. Not Nozomi. She was brave. Fearless.

“Yo. You alive?” The stranger asked. Nozomi stared blankly. Her stomach growled loudly. It was the only response he got out of her.

The masked stranger stared at her for what seemed a very long time, and Nozomi curled up again. Hunger pangs shot through her stomach and she whimpered pathetically. After a few moments, the stranger left.

Nozomi tried to make sense of the events in her head, fuzzy as they were. She remembered a long, fun day out exploring, making the foster workers worry about her whereabouts. Mrs. Suzuki had found her, by the playground, and was walking her back when there was a horrible boom, and people screaming and running. Nozomi recalled Mrs. Suzuki screaming and picking her up, and running. It was so dark, Nozomi couldn’t see - and neither could the poor, scared people, who ran into Mrs. Suzuki, knocking Nozomi from her arms and sending her tumbling. After that, all the child could recall was the stampede of footsteps, being trampled in the fleeing crowd and stumbling into this alleyway. The smoke had made her lungs hurt, and she got sleepy.

She wondered where Mrs. Suzuki was, but was too tired to move. As she sat up, she heard footsteps approaching, and looked to find the masked stranger from before approaching. He stopped in front of her, and set down a bottle of water and an armful of… food?  Her ears shot up attentively, and she swore she heard a snicker from the stranger. That was okay. People liked her ears! They said so often, she recalled.

“... You should probably eat.”

The stranger made a weird huffy noise, and looked around before helping open the bags and containers of food, placing them before the small child, and waited to see if she would move, if she could move in her current state. What would he do if she couldn’t…? He didn’t want to think about it. He’d have to keep moving. Someone else could help her, or she’d simply die. That was just how it was. For now, he watched.

Nozomi looked down at the meal, and back up at the disheveled mobian who stood before her -- and promptly stuck her tiny hands in the food, shoving fistfuls in her mouth, chewing noisily with her mouth open.

“Thanks, Mr. Monster-” Nozomi started. “...Name’s Mach. And don’t thank me.” The stranger corrected her, against his better judgement. “Thanks, Mr. Mach!”

Mach stared on in disbelief. He wasn't sure what he expected from the child - looking at her, she couldn't be more than three, maybe four years old at most. It was why he couldn’t just… keep walking. He didn’t usually see the unfortunate victims who were caught up in what he’d set out to do. Never one this small. He was no less determined to fulfil Frost’s legacy, but it was hard to ignore seeing such a tiny body laying down on a pile of garbage bags like she was just minutes earlier, lethargic and left to… He didn’t want to think about it. She wouldn’t have been the first. She wouldn’t be the last. He knew that, but he couldn’t stop himself from watching her.

She was a mess, with tousled hair and wrapped up in an old, tattered sweater that was entirely too big for her, with giant sleeves she used to wipe her face when she was done. It was then she raised her arms towards Mach, and whined. "Up, please!" She requested.

Behind his mask, Mach arched a brow. She certainly came around quickly. It was… charming.

But Nozomi wasn't the slightest bit intimidated, looking up at him with her big, bright eyes and a smile that, behind the carved wooden mask, Mach found himself returning, betraying his better judgement.

"Up!" The child demanded once more, and with sagging shoulders and an amused exhale, Mach obliged after making sure no one was around.

“What’s yer name, pipsqueak?” Mach asked. “I’m not a pipsqueak! I’m Nozomi! Nozomi Hibiki!” She huffed, pouting so fiercely it earned a chuckle from Mach.

She was so small, so light in his scarred arms, so fearless in his presence, that Mach couldn't help but smile behind the mask - it somehow made him feel lighter, though he wasn't sure why. As the child settled in his arms, content with having gotten her way, she  tapped a tiny claw against the Oni mask, wondering what his face must look like underneath.

“Where did you stay before this?” He asked, ignoring the dryness in his throat. “In the big building, with the other kids.” Nozomi answered.

The burnt pile of rubble Mach had passed by before he found her. The Son of the Oni felt a chill wash over him. He swallowed thickly as he imagined a burning building, full of tiny bodies like Nozomi’s… And quickly shook it off. He had work to do. Important work. It wasn’t his fault; their deaths were the failings of their caretakers, the people who betrayed Lord Frost’s memory, who let G.U.N. come in and tear down his legacy, who failed to get those kids out… And he hadn’t even known there was a foster care facility in the vicinity. He thought he was burning down markets. Stores. Not children.

The pugilist fidgeted slightly - he was supposed to be meeting his crew, do some interrogating, help set things right-- but he couldn't leave her here. Sighing, he wondered if maybe she had anyone else who could take care of her… and if they survived the Sons of the Oni raid. Against his better judgement, he asked.

“Yo, Nozomi, you got anywhere else to go?” “Go where?” “No, no I mean -- Tha place ya lived is gone. Did you know anyone else you can stay with?” “Oh!! I do!” “Okay, who?” “You, Mr. Mach!” She giggled, poking the mask.

Mach froze, mouth agape as he stared at the little girl in his arms. “Yer shittin’ me, right?” --

It was night again, and there wasn’t a soul to be found on the streets of Airigasaki. As Mach and Nozomi came out of the smouldering half of the district,  people fled at the sight of Mach. Screamed in terror at the insignia on the back of his jacket. The Sons of the Oni had come upon their quiet town, and not a soul was brave enough to tear the sleeping child from his arms - or realize that he was looking for someone to take her. The pugilist cursed himself under his breath. This kid wasn’t his problem. Not his responsibility. He knew he shouldn’t care so much, but feeling her small form against his body, her little breaths against his neck as she slept, the way tiny fingers clasped at his shirt - it made him feel something he hadn’t felt in years. Maybe it was selfish, clinging to this small feeling of importance when he had a legacy to fulfil. Akio and Mirage wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if they found out, but for now, that didn’t matter. He’d find somewhere to dump the kid, and they’d never know.

Sighing as he reached a park, he set the sleeping child onto the bench. His hand moved to brush her overgrown bangs out of her eyes, but pulled away. He looked around warily, wondering if maybe she’d be okay if he just left her here, asleep on the bench. Maybe someone would pick her up in the morning. He glanced down at her, and sighed before walking away.

“Sleep tight, Pipsqueak.” --

It was daybreak. Mach weaved between the tight alleyways of Airigasaki, hoping to avoid the cops. He just had to make it to the station, and he’d be in the clear. Shimahara was only a few short stops away - that was where the next raid was happening, and he hoped to recruit more men into the Sons of the Oni. Last night had opened the pugilist’s eyes;  the sooner he found Mangetsu, the sooner he amassed enough of Lord Frost’s followers, the sooner this all could stop. The sooner he could set this damned country back on the right track, and finally get G.U.N off their land. Out of the late Emperor’s palace. The sooner he could fulfil his destiny.

He turned the corner when suddenly a small, loud voice called out to him.

“Mr. Mach!” Suddenly, Nozomi was dangling above, hanging from an awning, a huge grin plastered onto her face. Mach instinctively held out his arms to catch her. She seemed to take this as an invitation, as she lept from the awning, frantically flapping her underdeveloped wings and plummeting down into his arms with a squeal of delight.

He stared at her, silent, unsure of what to do, or why he didn’t want to put her down, when the sound of approaching sirens startled him back to reality. He set her down hastily, and bolted, dashing through the alleyways and crowded streets. He didn’t look back, but he could hear her tiny footsteps, running behind him.

“Hey! Wait for me! Waaaiit!” She whined. Mach didn’t answer. He focused on his goal - reaching the train before it departed. Surely he’d lose her on the way there. Not his problem. Soon, Airigasaki and Nozomi would just be a distant memory.   “Mr. Mach!” Her little legs couldn’t keep up. He heard a soft thud as she tripped, and cried out: “Why are you ignoring me?!”

Her words were like thunder in Mach’s head. He froze, panting heavily as he looked down at the small child, her scraped little knee, the tears streaming down her face as she sniffled and rubbed her eyes. And in that moment, Mach saw himself in the child. He didn’t really think about it, when he walked up to her, scooped her in his arms, and just continued to run, a calloused hand firmly on her back, supporting her, securing her.

They boarded the train together. --

It was raining in Shimahara. The train station had vending machines with ice creams. He didn’t feel like eating, but Nozomi was enjoying a treat. She was a mess of matted fur, sticky fingers and sopping wet -- and shoveling an icecream sandwich into her mouth. It was gross, sloppy, and somehow endearing. It was such a far cry from how sad she was as they boarded the train, her feelings hurt by Mach’s attempts to abandon her, or how curious she had become aboard the train, gasping and tugging on Mach’s sleeve excitedly as she looked out the window.

He was beginning to understand why people had kids. He’d only known her for about a day, and she’d dragged him through a whirlwind of emotions since they met, and yet -- this was the happiest he’d been in years.

He was going to miss her. “All done, Pipsqueak?” He asked. Nozomi had been sitting on a bench with him outside the station, her legs dangling off the seat as she kicked them while stuffing her face with ice cream.

“Mhm!”  She held up her empty, sticky hands at Mach to prove it. He laughed. “Let's go then.”

The two of them set off. Mach fidgeted, brimming with nervous energy. The raid was tonight, and where would that leave Nozomi? He couldn’t take her with him - it’d traumatize her, make her hate him and could effectively cost him recruits if they thought he was going soft. Handing her off to someone who lived in the area meant she would just be among the body count after the raid and he couldn’t stomach the thought. He cursed himself for getting attached. [ Fuckin’ idiot. ]

“Mr. Mach! You shouldn’t say bad words!” Nozomi scolded him, putting her hands on her hips. “Sorry, sorry.” Mach mumbled, rolling his eyes behind the mask.

As the two continued to walk, Mach found himself thinking back to Takeda. She would have known what to do with Nozomi, how to take care of her -- it only now occurred to Mach that while he was okay with being soaked thanks to his aquatic nature, Nozomi probably wasn’t. He wondered if it was possible to track Takeda down, and if he could, whether or not she’d be willing to help him with his little predicament. But for now, he had an idea. “C’mon, Pipsqueak. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Half an hour and two stolen towels later, Mach walked into a Children’s Department store with Nozomi. He had a few bucks - might as well treat the kid. He had to get her out of that drenched sweater anyway. He let her lead him, her tiny fingers curled around his as she excitedly dragged him along, gasping at all the cool clothes and pointing excitedly at what appealed to her -- and what appealed to her absolutely stole Mach’s heart.

It was a positively hideous black t-shirt with a cartoonish skull, which wore a fantastically awful bright pink bow. There was glitter on the bow, and everywhere, really, and a pair of black leggings with the ugliest little tutu dress- which, surprising no one, also had glitter - and the tiniest pair of punk boots Mach had ever seen.

He bought the items to the counter, his heart hammering in his chest; what the fuck was he doing? He could be caught. Arrested. He was putting Frost’s legacy on the line for this-- this adorable little punk. He stood stiffly before the register, and the woman behind it smiled at him warmly.

“I uh, need ta pay for these. For her.” He fumbled the words out. “Of course.” The woman said, patiently. As she rang up the skull shirt, Mach chuckled dryly. “She’s uh, got weird taste.”

The woman gave him a look, eyeing him up and down as he stood before her, hoodie pulled up, wearing his Oni mask and in his usual, tattered attire, smiled and said, “I can’t imagine where she gets it from.”

Mach was grateful that the mask hid his features, as an insidious blush crept across his features as he muttered under his breath, taking the bag, calling over Nozomi and hastily tutting her to the backroom to get changed so they could leave.

--

Soon, the two stopped to get lunch. Some on-the-go ramen was a welcome treat, and after retreating to the relative safety of a dark alley, Mach finally lifted his mask, turning it so it rested on the side of his head so that he could eat.

Nozomi nearly spilled her cup in shock, leaning forward suddenly as she saw Mr. Mach’s face for the very first time.

“Whoa! Your eyes are so cool!” She gasped. Mach chuckled, “Yeah? Watch this.”

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he focused. When he opened his eyes again, giving the kid a crooked but genuine grin, his eyes were glowing an array of different colors. Nozomi was mesmerized, flapping her tiny wings excitedly, earning another laugh from Mach.

As the glow faded out, the two ate their lunch in relative silence. Or, rather, Mach fell deep into his own thoughts and didn’t hear whatever topic Nozomi was prattling off about. She tended to jump around a lot and ramble about nothing in particular, and sometimes it came out a bit like gibberish. Four year olds weren’t exactly known for being great conversation partners.

Without really thinking about it, he pulled an old, tattered journal from his jacket’s inner pocket. It was solid black, with ice-blue decals. The words on the pages inside were written in a delicate, formal handwriting, each thought carefully recorded. [Legacy, huh…? Ya sure know how to pick ‘em, Lord Frost.] Mach thought to himself, as his calloused fingers traced over a page in the journal. His time with Nozomi had made him feel like himself again for the first time in years, he had laughed for what felt like the first time in an eternity.

“What’s a legacy?” Nozomi’s question pulled Mach back to reality, and he stared, dumbfounded. Where did that come from? “Uh… Well, a legacy is… when you represent someone’s ideals an’ shit, an’ carry it on fer ‘em after they’re gone. Make sure it survives, no matter what. Make sure nobody forgets.” “Ohh,” Nozomi said, her face serious. “And who’s Lord Frost?”

Mach nearly dropped the journal, staring at Nozomi slack-jawed. No way. No fuckin’ way. [You pickin’ my mind, Pipsqueak? Like it's your nose?]

“Gross!” Nozomi giggled.   Mach opened his mouth to speak, and no sound came out. How had he missed this? He smacked his forehead, recalling when she had scolded him for thinking a curse word. He’d been so wrapped up in everything, it never occurred to him that he hadn’t said it aloud.

A fucking four-year-old that could read minds. He had to laugh about it - that was just his luck, wasn’t it?

---

Shimahara burned.

But by then, Nozomi and Mach were on the next train out. Mach wasn’t certain of his next step, or what he wanted to do, much less what he was supposed to do. But he knew someone who would have the answers, or at the very least, help him find them.

---

Akhone, Osakiru.

The countryside was… different than any place Mach had been in the six years since Frost’s demise. It was so serene. There were no alleys, no street vendors, no traffic, no smog. No colorful vending machines or giant outlets.

People didn’t scream or stare fearfully at him. They glanced his way, and seeing little Nozomi holding his hand, would smile and wave. There were people working the fields, and little shops in town. When Mach asked directions, the townsfolk happily pointed him in the right direction.

It was a modest little abode by the lake. A familiar crane got to his feet when he saw Mach and Nozomi approaching, and called for the old woman inside as they reached the front door.

Takeda came to the door. The cup of tea in her hands fell to the floor as she saw him - it had been so, so long, and now he’d come home. She ran up and pulled him in a hug, and Mach, against his better judgement, melted into the embrace, returning it. His head was swimming, his thoughts at war with each other.

She led him inside, and for the first time in ages, Mach felt at home.

--

As Mach lay in bed that night, Nozomi curled up against his chest, Takeda and Penumbra in the adjacent rooms, he found himself reflecting on the events of the past 2 weeks. Meeting this incredible little girl, and travelling with her across not one, not two, but three different provinces as she reminded him how to enjoy life again. How one little girl had changed his life in such a short amount of time, with her infectious joy and endearing quirkiness, Mach couldn’t be certain.

A lot of things, Mach found, were uncertain.

Mach wasn’t sure where he was going, he wasn’t even really sure who he was anymore. A boy. A man. A legacy. A failure. A father? Hell if he knew.

But the little girl in his arms, with her silly tutu that had left Mach and their bed covered in glitter, and her horrid, sticky little fingers and adorable laugh? She was his journey and wherever she took him - whether it was to the other side of Osakiru or the world, he figured he’d be okay with that as long as she was happy.

[bards-witcher]

Home - Ohmtoonz

So this one goes out to @omegawolfgirl, who constantly keeps me on my toes with new ideas. This came out a lot longer than I intended but I still really enjoyed it, even if some of the ideas are bit different :D

Basically everyone’s a wolf hybrid, so they’re people but with wolf attributes. Near the end it gets a little frisky, nothing major but i thought I’ d just warn you guys.

I hope you enjoy :D

[Ohm POV]

A freak was only one of the many colourful word’s others had used to describe him during his lifetime. A mistake is what his parents had called him, from far away he had the characteristics of a wolf just like everyone else, but when you got closer you could notice the differences.

How his eyes were just a bit too soft and his ears too floppy. How his teeth weren’t quite as sharp and his claws too small. It was a mystery as to why he was born more like a dog, which others had taken to calling him, as opposed to a wolf, but it wasn’t like anyone cared enough to investigate a reason why.

It was for this reason why he didn’t have a pack, why he never really had one to begin with. When he reached his teenage years, when the wolf features should start to become more pronounced, his had remain somewhat stunted as the doctor called it. His parents had only kept him out of a sense of duty and in the hopes that he’d get some sort of final growth spurt when he got older, which never came. He was 15, a few days before his birthday and when he was to come of age, normally a big ceremony where you’re formally added as a member of the pack and given pack duties and responsibilities. However instead of helping him get a formal outfit for the event his parents had kicked him out with the nothing but the clothes on his back.

That evening, without any explanation, his parents had practically tossed him out the house, calling him a disgrace on the family and that if he ever returned he’d be killed on site, that if he wasn’t careful they’d be the ones to do it. He noticed some of their neighbours come out of their houses to witness the scene, one or two of them adding their own obscenities as he stood in the road helpless, tears streaming down his face. His begs and pleas fell on deaf ears, even when his parents finally returned to the house and locked the door behind them he stayed calling out to them, begging them to let him stay. He doesn’t know how long he stood there before a police officer dragged him away from the front door and shoved him into the backseat of his car. Without a word the cop drove him to the packs territory limit and all but chucked him out the car, giving a final warning not to bother returning before he got back in the car and drove off.

For next few days he wandered through the wilderness, trying to lay low as much as possible to but lacking apart from instinct he lacked any form of survival skills, meaning It wasn’t long before he came across another pack. He doesn’t know why they took him in, probably because they felt some sort of pity for him, he was an underdeveloped wolf after all, something that hadn’t been heard of in all the books he’d browsed through when he learnt of his condition. Not to mention that he must have looked like a right state, ripped clothes, covered in dirt and looking like he was deaths door.

They were quick to take him in, giving him food, drink and clean clothes, even gave him a couple of small errands to run as a way to prove his worth to them. For the first time he felt like he truly belonged, like he finally had a pack, that was until they found out how old he was, when they learnt that he was two days from turning 16. Just as his parents had done, they’d literally tossed him out, telling him to be thankful that they hadn’t killed him, as they left him to fend for himself in the cold dark night.

For the next two years his youthful appearance meant that other packs he came across would take him in for a while, accepting their hospitality before running away so that they could never find the truth about him. When he got too old to pass as an underage wolf he made a real effort to avoid coming across packs, teaching himself how to hunt and to find and build shelter, and most ability how to escape pursuers. However, sometimes nature wasn’t on his side. There’d be no sign of food for weeks and fresh water was hard to come by, especially in winter when a lot of natural water would freeze over. It was at times like this he would seek others, willing to suffer their treatment of him in favour of some semblance of food and warmth.

He remembers one particular pack which had found him, they’d reinforced his dog like appearance by putting a collar and tag on him, making him sleep in a  far too small kennel at night. They only allowed him to leave said kennel if he had a lead attached to him, forcibly dragged on all fours through the street whilst the other wolves came out to throw their own insults at him. At dinner he’d been forced to stay under the table, only able to eat whatever scraps they threw down to him whilst they kicked at him as he crossed the length of the table.

He doesn’t remember how long he’d been with him, only knowing that when they’d started to run out of food and he was nothing more than another mouth to feed, was when they had chucked him out, tying him to a tree outside their territory by the lead they’d made him wear.

He’d made short work of ripping off the collar and lead, quickly slinking his way back into the safety of the forest, waiting until the cruel cycle would start again.

It had been 20 years since his parents had first kicked him out, he’d spent most of those years in solitary, becoming more of a wild animal than a person. He wouldn’t lie that it had its advantages though. The problem with the wolves was that for the most part they’d lost touch with their wolf side, they still had some enhanced senses and abilities, preferred to be in packs and still had lifelong mates, but they’d changed as technology advanced. Their senses dulling, and reflexes slowed, as cars were developed they no longer saw the need to run through the forest, with the use of guns they no longer had to physically hunt down their own prey. All attributes he’d obtained over the long years on his own.

It had been a few days since he’d eaten, the cold weather meaning there was a lack of food and that he was only able to catch the odd rabbit to help sustain him, when he was found by an alpha.

“Watcha doin’ out here all alone pup?” A smooth southern drawl came from the tall alpha who slowly started to approach him. He was quick to bare his teeth and growl at the intruder, it was only meant as a warning, he was sure the rest of his pack would be nearby and there was no way he’d be able to fight them all.

“Easy there I don’ mean no harm. Forgive me, but it looks like you haven’t eaten for a while and a lot of snow’s comin’ in within the week, d’you wanna come back with me? Just until the storm passes? I don’t know if I can stomach the thought of knowing you’re out here all alone” The alpha put on a small smile and a second later he could smell his scent flood the clearing they were in. Try as he might to run away the alphas gaze pinned him in place, he couldn’t explain why but the scent that of the alpha comforted him, it reminded him of home baked cookies, soft leather and coffee.

The alpha noticing this crossed the rest of the distance separating them, stopping just in front of him to hold out his hand. “M’names’ Luke by the way”

Hesitantly he took the hand presented to him, ignoring the jolt that ran through his body at the contact and the warmth that seemed to spread through his body because of it.

“Ryan” he mumbled but it didn’t knock the smile off of the alphas face.

“Follow me, just let me know if you can’t keep up” With one last dazzling smile he took off into the forest. He watched the alpha weave easily through the trees and a small smile graced his face before he followed after him. He easily caught up and kept pace, but after about 10 minutes he noticed the alpha slow down a little, how sweat covered his brow and how he seemed a little out of breath. Although he could’ve kept at the same pace he didn’t want to slight the alpha so slowed his pace as well, keeping close to him as they carried on jogging through the forest.

It was another 20 minutes before the alpha slowed to a walk, he gave a final look back to him before walking into the camp. He stood on the outskirts shocked, most packs lived in small towns, with roads passing through them and brick houses powered with electrical lines through each town. But, this pack was different, they lived in raised log cabins with nothing but worn forest floor showing pathways in and out of the camp. Furthermore, there was nothing but what looked like a small generator powering the camp but even then it didn’t look like it was in use, the camp being lit up by a huge log fire in the centre.

He didn’t realise he was staring until the alpha came back and put a hand on his shoulder, he jumped back from the touch, baring his teeth a little. He ignored the slight flinch of pain that crossed the alphas features, didn’t have time to question the reason why before he noticed growls coming from behind Luke, looking over the alphas’ shoulder to see two other wolves baring their teeth at him.

Before he could retaliate Luke turned towards them, “Jon, Brian lay down. He’s just a little spooked is all.” With one final growl they took a couple steps back, giving them space, and getting themselves out of their defensive positions, which did little to put him at ease. Against his will he felt himself relax slightly unsure as to why it was a moment later when he realised that the scent of the alpha had surrounded him again.

“C’mon Ryan, let me show you round. Don’ worry ‘bout them, they’re just not used to new faces.” The alpha slowly reached his hand out towards him, giving him plenty of time to to turn away, before putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving him another small smile before gently starting to guide him through the camp.

For the next 10 minutes the alpha showed him around, the fire pit they used for warmth and to cook food with as well as a small shed dedicated solely to the stockpile of logs he’s sure they prepared for the oncoming snow. He was introduced the other wolves in the camp, most of them barely sparing him a nod but he could feel their eyes sending daggers into his back. There was a few who came up to him to say their hellos, even going so far as to shake his hand, Brock if he remembers his name correctly, Craig and Anthony had all been welcoming towards him.

Overall, there were eight huts, one which was the alphas, the biggest one which looked like it could comfortably fit the whole pack if needed. The others were a lot smaller, he was told that there were several mated pairs within the pack and each pair had built their own cabin as a sign of their commitment to each other. There was a reasonable sized hut which was built for storage, it’s where any and all supplies were kept and only a few wolves had access to it. The final cabin was just a bit smaller than the alphas, made for those who remained unmated, however at the moment the only resident was Anthony, there were supposedly two other wolves, but they came and went as they pleased between their pack and another. This would be where he would stay and where Luke dropped him off, told him that dinner would be ready in a couple hours and that he’ll get fresh clothes brought to him.

He thanked the alpha, bowing before him, which caused a strange look to pass over the alphas face before he bid his farewells, leaving him to his own devices. He entered the cabin, looking briefly around the dimly lit living room before making his way to the rooms, choosing the one closest to the door which he couldn’t scent another wolf in.

It was a basic room, a double bed with a set of drawers and a basin, with some essentials like soap already supplied, on the drawers there was a small gas lamp which could be used to light the bare room. He sat on the bed, examining his surroundings and wondering how long this would last, without a doubt this had been the best he’d been treated since he’d been kicked out all those years ago.

He didn’t realise he’d fallen asleep until he heard a knock on his door, quickly jumping up and getting into a defensive pose, teeth bared, but all that greeted him was Brock jumping back slightly from the doorway. He couldn’t explain it, he had barely been here an hour, but he felt guilty for scaring the wolf, who timidly made his way into the room.

He backed down, mumbling an apology and giving what he hoped was a smile before sitting himself back down on the bed. He saw Brock cast a warm smile towards him, moving to sit next to him on the bed before placing a small pile of clothes in the gap between them.

“I’ve got these for you, they’re probably a bit too big but it’s all we have, sorry. On our next supply run we’ll try and find some stuff better suited for you”

He placed his hand on he clothes, feeling the material between his fingers, how soft it was, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten new clothes. He felt tears burn his eyes as he said his thanks, unable to look the wolf in the eyes, not wanting to slight him in any way.

“I’m gonna go turn the generator on for a bit so you can have some hot water and clean up. You’ve probably got half an hour before we gather for dinner, just let me know if you need anything, I’ll be in cabin 3 if you need me” With a final smile the wolf left the room and he let out the breath he’d been holding, looking at the clothes he’d been given. Whilst a bit too big they’d still fit him just fine and it wasn’t as if he was going to complain about the hospitality they’d shown him.

It was a minute later when he heard a gentle hum through the wall, getting up he moved to the basin and turned on the tap, waiting a moment for it to heat up before grabbing the hand towel nearby, wetting it slightly before wrapping the bar of soap in it. Holding the hand towel closed he rubbed it against his hand until a soapy lather started to form, stripping himself of his scant clothes he made the slow process of cleaning himself, taking the time to remove every bit of dirt and grime he could find. The last step involved removing the soap from the now black hand towel and rubbing it through his hair to act as shampoo before holding his head under the tap. Once clean he grabbed the towel on the rail and rubbed his hair a little in an effort to dry it before drying the rest of his body and donning the first clothes he grabbed hold of.

He looked out his window and noticed how much darker it looked, barely making out the darker shapes of the pack as they started to make their way to the fire. A small part of him wanted to join them, wanted to belong, but a larger part wanted to hide out in his room, to curl up under the bed and simply wait out his time here.

Just as he was starting to wrap himself within the duvet and settling himself on the bed he heard a knock on the front door. He didn’t move, hoping that if he didn’t answer that they’d leave.

“Ryan? Food’s ready” He heard Lukes’ voice through the door and as he got up to go to the door he told himself how if it had been anyone else he wouldn’t be answering the door. Opening the door, he saw Luke beam a smile down at him and couldn’t stop his own smile in return to the alpha.

“I see you got your clothes, they don’t seem too bad, but we’ll try and find something better fitting for you”

“Thank you Alpha” He kept his head down as he spoke, bowing slightly again before Luke stopped him.

“Please, call me Luke, I don’t like all that formal shit, and you don’t need to bow to anyone here, we’re all equals no matter the status” The alpha smiled back at him, speechless he could do nothing but nod.

“Luke if you don’t get your ass here I’m eating your share” A shout resounded through the night, breaking the moment between them before the alpha returned his own shout, making his way down the stairs and towards the fire.

“Don’t you fucking think about it bitch or I’ll chuck you in the river” He heard the alpha chuckle at the answering yelp he’d heard from the fire, the sound causing his heartrate to pick up ever so slightly as he made his slow descent down the stairs and towards the fire.

By the time he reached it almost everyone was sitting on the large logs encircling the fire, talking amicably with one another bar Anthony and Brock who appeared to be serving and distributing the food to the others. In this moment he felt nothing but an imposter, that he had no reason to belong with these people, choosing to sit on the floor, behind the logs in hopes to hide himself until he could slip back to his bed.

It made little difference however, for Brock made his way straight towards him with a bowl of food and some cutlery, everyone turning to see him hiding away and upon Brocks insistence he was moved to sit between Brock and Anthony. He kept his head down on his food, waiting to hear the others start their food before eating, unsure of the pack’s customs and so as not to insult them.

“As all of you know we have a new addition, this is Ryan, he’s gonna be staying with us for a while, at least until the storm passes, so I want you all to make him feel welcome” Without looking he could tell that the last part was directed at someone however, he wasn’t sure who, instead choosing to start eating when in the corner of his eye he saw Brock raise his fork to his mouth.

He tried to be as civil as he could, but it had been several days since he’d eaten and after the first two bites he couldn’t stop shovelling food into his mouth. It was only when half his plate was cleared and his mouth full that he looked around at the others, he noticed a couple of distasteful looks aimed his way and that’s when he saw their plates. The pack had barely half of what he had, and he couldn’t stop the crushing feeling of guilt and shame, he quickly put his fork down and put the plate on the floor, ignoring the looks he could feel coming from the two wolves beside him.

“I know I’m not a chef but the food ain’t that bad is it?” He heard Anthony whisper to him and once again that crushing feeling came back.

“No, it’s great, thank you” He bowed his head slightly towards the younger man, ignoring the questioning look the man threw at him in favour of looking at his hands.

“If it’s so good why aren’t you eating it then?”

He sighed, finding the situation inescapable. “I’ve got twice the food of anyone here and that isn’t fair, I know food is scarce at the minute. I’d rather this goes to someone who needs it.” He nodded as if trying to reaffirm his own statement to himself.

“Ryan the only person here who needs that food is you. We eat almost every day no matter how small, when was the last time you ate?”

His silence spoke volumes and in an answer to that Anthony picked his plate up off the floor and returned it to his hands. “Eat, please. Don’t worry ‘bout the others, they’re just a bunch of little bitches when the attention isn’t on them anymore”

Beside him he saw Brock stamp his foot onto the wolf the other side of him “The fock was that for?” was shouted which was only followed with laughter around the camp.

“You know what” Brock laughed, and he couldn’t stop the small smile that formed on his face, picking up his fork to start eating again. He was quick to extinguish the flicker of hope that ignited in his chest that maybe he could belong with these people.

He’d been staying with the BBS pack for 9 days now and tensions were high, he could tell that most of them didn’t want him there, but Luke refused to compromise, insisting he stayed until the snow storm passed. It didn’t help that none of them had eaten for a couple of days, after that first night he’d been given portions similar to the rest of the pack however, they’d officially run out of food. Luke, Tyler, Brian, Jon and Marcel had all gone out with their guns over the last 4 days in an effort to hunt some food for them to eat, apart from a couple rabbits Marcel had caught they’d had no luck.

He was laying under Lukes’ cabin, a common occurrence, choosing to spend most nights here as although it was a lot colder than his own bed, being near the alpha comforted him a lot more than he’d like to admit, only able to sleep here in the biting cold as opposed to his bed. However, he was stirred awake by the sound of raised voices above him.

“He can’t stay here Luke, you know that as well as me” He heard Jons’ voice through the floor, although not blood he’d learnt that the younger wolf was as good as a brother to Luke, and in some cases could be the only one to talk sense into the alpha.

“I can’t kick him out, you’ve seen him he wouldn’t last two minutes. Knowing he’s out there in this weather doesn’t sit right with me and you’re lying to yourself if you say it doesn’t bother you too”

“We’ve turned away plenty of wolves before in worse weather, actual wolves who could benefit us, but you turn them away every time, and yet you bring in this dog –“

“Don’t call him that! He’s a wolf just like any of us” Lukes outburst surprised him, he didn’t expect such an outspoken response in his defence, he could almost feel Lukes anger at Jons’ words.

“You keep telling yourself that then, but he’s nothing more than a lap dog and you know it, if you’re not careful you’re gonna lose the pack”

“Is that a threat?” There was a tense pause and he could sense the standoff between the two wolves above him. “I thought you’d be the last person to threaten me Jonathan, after everything we’ve been through, everything I’ve done for you”

“It’s a warning, there’s talk around the camp that you’re no longer fit to lead, hell I’ve heard Tyler’s’ thinking about challenging you for pack alpha.” He heard Jon give a defeated sigh before he spoke again, almost a whisper “I love you Luke, but you need to do what’s best for the pack. Why are you so set on him staying here?”

“It’s complicated” he could almost feel the emotions thick in his throat he’s sure Luke’s trying to choke down and it’s then that he decides he can’t listen anymore.

Tears he didn’t realise he was shedding were burning down his cheeks, leaving a sharp sting as the cold wind whipped at his face as he left his shelter under Lukes’ cabin. They thought he was useless, nothing more than burden, but maybe if he proved himself, showed them he could be of use then they’d let him stay.

He ran out the camp, easily manoeuvring through the trees as he headed towards the direction of the river, following it downstream, and revelling in the feeling of the cold air burn through his lungs until he found what he was looking for.

A large herd of deer were grazing near the river, as quietly as he could he washed himself in the water in an effort to hide his scent before heading down wind from them. He climbed a nearby tree, carefully moving along the low branches of the closely packed trees until he was almost sitting over the herd, lying in wait to make his move.

It wasn’t long before the herd slowly made their way toward to him, unaware of the danger lurking above, he let some of the smaller deer pass by, waiting for his prize. A large deer, almost twice the weight of him was grazing on the remaining foliage under him, without a thought he dropped down, landing on top of the deer before bringing his claws down on its throat and snapped its neck for good measure before jumping off of it.

The deer having been made aware of the danger started to runn off in an effort to escape him, he left the large deer as he ran after the herd, expending all his energy, until he eventually caught up to them. He leapt onto the closest one, it was sick and slower than the rest, clearly used as a sacrifice to let the other deer escape but he didn’t care, food was food.

He made quick work of killing the deer before dragging it to the one he’d killed earlier, he allowed himself to catch his breath, happy with what he’d caught and hoping Luke would be proud of his hunt. The two deer should be able to feed the pack for at least a week and a half and would hopefully show them that he had some worth, that although he looked like a dog he could be just as much of a wolf as any of them.

He tore up his shirt, using it to tie the hooves of the deer together and making a small handle he could use to pull them with, however, he was now only left in a thin t-shirt, although somewhat durable in the cold he wasn’t immune, and the counter had started as to how long he could survive.

With a final breath he started pulling the deer the way he came, he didn’t make it far before a sweat started to form, and his muscles ache. He kept pulling, having no idea where he was in relation to the camp, it was only when night started to descend, and his muscles ached so badly that he could barely take another step that he collapsed. He let out a howl, it was nowhere near as powerful as a wolf’s, nor did it hold the power and menace that a wolf’s did, he just hoped someone heard it.

He let out another weaker howl before standing back up and trying his hardest to pull the deer further through the wilderness. It was a few minutes later that he heard several sets of footsteps racing towards him and he panicked, not knowing if they were friend or foe, he was in no state to fight, until he heard a familiar heartbeat leading the small following, the same heartbeat he fell asleep to, Luke had come for him.

“Ryan what the fuck are you doing out here” Luke shouted towards him as the alpha ran at him, barely catching him before he face planted the forest floor.

“Got some food” he smiled up at the alpha, noticing the alpha look past him at the two deer, a myriad of emotions cross his face before facing him again, giving him a small smile.

“You did good Ryan; can you stand for a minute?”

He nodded, putting all his energy into holding himself up as Luke let him go, trying not to pay attention to how much he missed his warmth. Luke then took off his jacket and wrapped it around him, too tired to stop himself he wrapped himself in the jacket and buried his head in it, taking a deep breath of the scent that accompanied the warm coat. Before he could take a step Luke picked him up bridal style, before turning back to the other wolves that had joined him.

“Tyler, Brian grab the deer and get it back to Anthony.” Without a word they did as he said, and they started to make their way back to the camp. He’s on the verge of sleep, letting everything about Luke lull him into slumber he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He nosed his way into Lukes’ neck too far gone to notice how Lukes heartrate spiked at the motion or the alpha tug him ever closer against himself.

“Is he gonna be alright?” consciousness started to filter through his sleep, barely picking up the sound of Lukes’ voice beside him.

“Yeah he’ll be fine, just needs to keep warm and rested for the next couple days”

“Thanks Scotty” he felt a large warm hand grab his own and he fought the urge to squeeze it, wanting to see what would happen next.

“If I may ask Luke, why are you so insistent about him staying here?”

“Not you too”

“I’m only asking. If I didn’t know any better I’d say –“

“Yes”  He could hear the strain in Lukes voice and could almost feel the sympathy radiating off of Scotty.

“Does he know?”

“It’s complicated” Lukes voice was hoarse as he spoke, something he didn’t expect to hear from the alpha, he could tell that in this moment Luke felt vulnerable.

“I’m sure it is” He heard Scotty huff a laugh as he got up from his seat next to him. “I won’t tell the others, it should come from you, but I wouldn’t wait too long. Whilst we all appreciate what he did, some of the others feel slighted, if not for you at least do it to protect him.”

He heard Luke sigh beside him “I know you’re right, but I can’t, not yet”

“Good night Luke”

The sound of the door clicking shut resounded around the room, putting an end to the conversation, all he could hear was Luke breathing beside him and a moment later he felt a hand rub through his hair, lightly scratching behind his hears and lulling him back to sleep.

He woke up as someone was gently shaking him, opening his eyes to see Brocks’ gentle eyes staring down at him, bright smile on his face.

“C’mon dinners ready, Luke want’s you to be there” He sat up, rubbing his eyes as he did so. “Doctors orders are to keep warm so here’s a coat for you and you can take the duvet out with you if you want”

He grabbed the coat that was offered him, instantly picking up Lukes scent and wrapping it around himself before making his way out of the bed, wincing at the painful twinge he felt in his legs, Brock grabbing hold of him before he could fall back onto the bed.

“I may have over done it” he huffed out, Brock only offering a small laugh as he wrapped him in the duvet and led him out the cabin and towards the fire. Despite being wrapped up he could still feel a chill deep in his bones, the fire did little to help, shivering where he sat and only moving to gratefully accept the hot food handed to him.

He noticed Luke move to stand next to him, shooting him a smile before addressing the pack.

“Right now, I want y’all to thank Ryan for hunting this food for us.” A resounding chorus of thank yous’ sounded around the fire, he was just about to start eating his food before Luke interrupted again. “Tyler, Brian I didn’t hear you say thank you”. There was a pause before a couple of mumbles were heard, apparently good enough for Luke he gave them permission to start eating.

He tried to eat however, his hand kept shaking and moving made his blankets open, causing even more cold air to penetrate the little warmth he had. He had a couple mouthfuls before giving up, choosing to wrap himself up even tighter rather than eating, at least that was until Luke picked up his plate and pressed a forkful of food up to his mouth. He cast the alpha a strange look before accepting the food, in the corner of his eye noticed some of the pack casting them strange glances.

He let Luke feed him his plateful of food, the food having warmed him up slightly and somewhat stop his shivering until everyone was done and disbanded. He was ordered to go to his room to rest, but he only did so to drop off the duvet before sneaking out to his spot under Lukes’ cabin. It was the coldest night by far and he’s sure he could make out the beginnings of snowfall but still he stayed. He tried for what felt like an eternity trying to get to sleep but not even Lukes’ coat wrapped tight around him could keep him warm. He was just about to leave to go to his room when he heard Lukes’ voice filter through the night.

“Ryan! What the hell are you doing out here! Come out of there now!”

He quickly made his way out from under the patio, he felt himself being wrapped up in something and all but dragged into the alphas cabin.

“What the hell were you thinking Ryan! You’re supposed to be keeping warm, and that’s pretty fucking far from it”

“ ‘m sorry” he sniffled into the throw he was now wrapped in, trying to hide himself from the alphas wrath who had started to pace the room, rubbing a hand down his face before letting out a long sigh.

“It’s okay, c’mon lets get you to bed” He was bracing himself to be hit with cold air and to be escorted back to his cabin, but instead Luke lead him through to his bedroom, laying him down on the bed before wishing him goodnight, leaving the door slightly ajar as the alpha returned to his living room.

He tossed and turned in an effort to fall asleep but to no avail, he wasn’t sure how long it had been since Luke tucked him in, but he slowly made his way out the bed and quietly made his way to the living room where he saw Luke working at his desk.

He lay down at Lukes feet, curling around them and letting the alphas body heat warm him up more than any fire could. “What the –“ Luke jumped back from his seat before settling back down. “Ryan-“ he ignored Lukes’ protects in favour of settling closer against Lukes legs, hearing the man sigh before continuing his work.

He doesn’t know when he fell asleep, but he was shaken awake by Luke “c’mon, time for bed” he slowly got up, dragging his feet towards Lukes’ room but noticed the wolf didn’t follow him, instead making himself comfortable on his couch. He stood there in the doorway unsure how to proceed, he was just about to make his way to the couch when Luke gave him an ultimatum.

“You sleep in my bed Ryan, I’ll stay here” there it was, his alpha voice and try as he might he couldn’t resist it, so he slowly made his way back to Lukes’ bed and lay down, however, once again he couldn’t get to sleep.

He waited for what felt like an eternity in the hopes that Luke had fallen asleep, quietly creeping out of the room and laying down on the floor against the couch, Lukes’ hand was slightly hanging off of the couch so that the back of the alphas fingers would graze his back with every breath he took.

“You can’t sleep either huh?” he jumped slightly at the sound of Lukes voice in the quiet, glad for the darkness so that Luke couldn’t see the blush colouring his face red, although by the chuckle Luke made he’s sure the alpha already knew. “C’mon then, you’ve convinced me”

When Luke moved to get up, he stood up off of the floor, following Luke into the bedroom and allowed the alpha to get into the bed first before curling up at the bottom of the bed by his feet.

“Watcha doin’?” he could feel Lukes’ penetrating gaze in the dark and he felt so small in that moment. He wasn’t sure how to answer, how was he supposed to say that in the past if he wanted a bed this was how he had to sleep, another insult due to his appearance. “I mean if you’re more comfortable down there that’s fine, but you’re welcome to sleep up here with me, in fact I’d prefer that”

“You mean it?” it was said so quietly he’s surprised that he could hear it.

“Every word”

At that he crawled up the bed, lying as close to the edge as he dared go, not wanting to impose on the alphas space, however Luke had different ideas had different ideas. He felt a warm arm wrap around him and pull him deeper into the bed until he was pressed up against Luke, silently grateful that Luke kept his arm wrapped tight around him after he’d been moved.

“Is this okay?” He could hear the vulnerability crack through Lukes voice. He hummed in response, settling himself against Lukes warm body which managed to finally drive away the chill that had settled in him.

He hummed when Luke buried his face against the back of his neck, as much as he wanted to fall asleep a question burned in the back of his brain.

“Luke?” he whispered into the darkness, feeling more than hearing the alpha hum as an answer. “Do you have a mate?” he felt the wolf become tense, holding in his breath, he thought that he may have crossed a boundary, that he’d be told to leave before Luke answered.

“Yes” It was a curt response, and from the sound of it he didn’t want to go any further with his answer, but he didn’t want to leave the awkward tension in the room.

“Where are they?”

“It’s complicated”

“Is it true what they say when you meet your mate? That your whole being changes?” He couldn’t hide the hope in his voice, when he was young he’d held onto the belief that there was someone for everyone, that one day he’d find someone who could look past his outside and love him for who he was.

“I didn’t know this was 21 questions”

“I’m sorry, I jus-“

“Hey, hey, Ryan, it’s okay I was just joking with ya” He felt his face heat up as Lukes hand ran up and down his abdomen at the words, he sure was done to done reassure him. “Yes, it’s true. When I became alpha of this pack I put everything into them, making sure they had food, warmth, safety…a home. But, then my mate came along and ever since I’ve been distracted, too focused on them and what they’re doing, that it’s started to affect my abilities as pack alpha. The hardest part is I don’t even think they know we’re mates”

He turned in Lukes’ arms shocked, looking down at the alpha in surprise “What?!? How could that happen? Mates know each other on sight! I’ve never heard of mates being unaware of each other”

“Well I guess that just makes me extra special then” There was a bitterness to Lukes voice, showing that he felt so much different than what he said, he frowned down at the alpha about to open his mouth to ask more about the situation when Luke pulled him back down against the bed. “C’mon Ryan, bed time”

He clicked his tongue at the patronizing tone the alpha shot at him, giving his own remark of “Goodnight Alpha” before burrowing into the bed against Luke, letting the soft almost purr like growl he could feel resonate in Luke send him to sleep.

The next day neither said a word to one another about that night, he had offered to make Luke some form of breakfast, however, the alpha had graciously declined and asked him to return to his own cabin. He felt a pain a chest, the strong feeling of rejection almost like a slap in the face as he said his goodbyes and left the cabin without another word, only acknowledging the strange look Jon shot his way as he walked through the cam in the early hours that morning.

Although Craig had heralded him as the camps saviour, Luke had given strict orders that he was not to leave camp under any circumstances unless accompanied, much to his dismay. Some of the pack members weren’t as happy as others about his earlier hunting expedition and had taken it upon themselves to insult him.

Most of the wolves had left for a supply run, looking for anything that could potentially be of use to them. When they came back a dog’s toy was chucked his way, clearly meant to patronise he took the insult on the chin, thanking them for their kind gift before sneaking off under Lukes cabin to play with it. Whilst he’d been embarrassed about it in the past, this was something he allowed himself as a guilty pleasure, why couldn’t he have toys? If anything, his almost dog like appearance meant he could get away with such actions.

For the next few days whenever the pack went out they’d come back with some kind of gift for him, from plushies to tennis balls to tug a ropes, he kept them all under Lukes cabin, and if Jon happened to notice a tennis ball roll out from under Lukes’ patio he didn’t say anything about it, instead kicking it back under and continuing about his duties.

It was a week later when the snow had finally started to settle that he started to get antsy, eager to explore the now crisp white wilderness and the beauty of the woods in the snow. For the most part he hated winter, hated the cold, the longer and darker nights and especially the lack of food but he’d always loved the snow. When he was a pup he remembers he’d play in the snow for hours with his friends, staying long after they’d gone and only leaving when the chill began too much to bear and most of his body was numb.

He waited for the perfect moment to make his escape, that morning Jon was supposed to be taking over watch from Marcel however, it had become routine for the younger wolf to leave his post after a few minutes in favour of seeking out Evan, only returning back to his post a couple hours later when he knew the pack would start to wake.

It was in this time that he slipped out of the cabin, moving as quietly as he could in the still morning as the freshly laden snow crunched under his feet. When he deemed himself to be a suitable distance away he ran and ran, he kept running until all breath had left his lungs, admiring his surroundings as he caught his breath and watching it condense into the chill early morning air.

He started running again, more leisurely this time so that he could take in his surroundings. He wanted to get to know these woods, to make them his home in the hopes that Luke would make him part of the pack, that he could finally have somewhere to belong. He wasn’t sure how far he’d gone but he decided to get a better look at the frozen landscape, easily scaling a nearby tree to take a seat on one of the branches, watching silence settle over the forest once more.

It was eerily beautiful and a scene he could watch for hours if it wasn’t for the pricking on the back of his neck, the feeling of eyes watching him in the silence. He jumped off of the tree, landing gracefully on his feet before turning into a low defensive stance where he was met with a cougar, also poised defensively. This wasn’t the first time he’d come across a cougar, most of the time he left them be, not wanting to start a fight he couldn’t win, hell one time he’d somehow befriended one, the cougar having hunted food for him when he was at deaths door.

This time he stared down the cougar as they started to slowly circle each other, he didn’t want to fight the anima sol instead lay carefully in the snow, belly exposed. It was a risky move, but experience had told him predators were always curious about acts of submission and this one was no different, the big cat cautiously approached him, sniffing around him as he went.

He remained still, allowing the animal time to feel comfortable around him before he felt a heavy paw hit into his side, however there was no pain accompanying it, showing the animal had had no intention of harming in. Cautiously he got up before offering his palm to the cougar who sniffed it before giving it a playful nip.

He spent the next few hours playing with the young cougar, chasing down one another and fighting until the other would yield, each of them coming out with small scrapes but neither intended to seriously harm the other.

It was when darkness was starting to settle that he realised how late it was, and that he had absolutely no idea where he was. He could smell that he was no longer in his pack’s territory, panic choking at his throat as it got ever darker. The cougar seemed to sense his distress and nuzzled his legs in an attempt to comfort him which did little to help, the animal lightly bit down on his hand and started pulling him, as if leading him somewhere.

Understanding what the cougar was doing he gently pulled his hand away and a second later the animal was sprinting away, he was hot on its heels, following it as it navigated its way through the trees. It was almost pitch black when he finally knew he was back in his pack’s territory, relief washing over him.

He thanked the cougar, giving it one last look as it slinked away back into the trees, before heading in the direction he thought the camp was, however it wasn’t long before the sharp metallic tang of blood caught his nose and panic flared in him again, it was Wolfs blood.

Not a moment later a piercing, almost pained howl broke through the night, it was Luke, his Alpha, his pack were in trouble. He sprinted as fast as he could to where he heard the howl come from, even when his legs started to ache, and his chest burn he kept running until finally he reached the camp.

The sight that met him was far from reassuring, several of the cabins were on fire and the ones that weren’t were completely ransacked, there were several blood pools around the camp, no doubt where fights had taken place. He couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through his head, getting darker and darker when he caught the scent of Lukes blood in the air.

Someone had come and taken his pack, his family and he didn’t want to think about the implications if they were dead, but he’d be damned if he didn’t go down fighting for them. It wasn’t hard to find the deep tyre tracks that ran out the camp, even in the pitch black of night, even now he could smell the faint scent of Luke and he held onto that, onto the hope that the alpha was still alive.

Without a second thought he ran into the darkness, thoughts of revenge driving him ever further into the darkness.

It was a couple hours before dawn when he finally reached the town who held captive his pack, although dark he could hear life within the small town which was a stark contrast to his own.

He lingered in the treeline by the entrance which was guarded by three wolves, each with some form of firearm. He sat there analysing them, but the wolves simply stood at their post’s stoic as ever, however he saw two of them waver where they stood every now and then, evidently not as used to this lifestyle as their companion, showcasing their inexperience.

He was just about to move in order to try and find another entrance into the walled town, when he heard a crackly voice filter its way through a walkie talkie worn by leader.

“All units converge on the main square, some of the ARGH-“

“Sam! Sam! Come in Sam! Shit, I told them not to separate the mates, fucking idiots I swear. Hall you’re with me, Manon keep watch”

With that two of the wolves ran into the town, leaving a rather nervous looking wolf to man the entrance, he silently thanked his pack for inadvertently causing a distraction, it was only too easy now.

He snapped a twig, watching as the wolf aimed his gun in his direction and shouted into the darkness, despite not hearing a response the young wolf edged his way towards him until he was right on the edge of the treeline. He attacked without a second though, teeth aiming for the jugular, he doesn’t want to kill these wolves, but they threatened his pack and if some happen to die in the process then he’s not against it.

He leaves the twitching body in a hedge, he almost feels guilty but if the wolf lives for a few hours the injury would start to heal, he snapped the gun against a nearby tree, the downed wolf could only stare up at him in horror. He gave one final look at him, showing the wolf that he was being spared before he slipped through the darkness and into the town.

He moved silently from street to street, coming across several guards who he easily managed to overpower, hiding their bodies in alcoves to avoid suspicion. It wasn’t long before he reached the centre square and there he saw his pack in chains too tight and cages too small whilst their captures poked and prodded at them.

He easily spotted Luke, the alpha was in some sort of device which held him in a somewhat compromising position with his head forced to the floor and ass in the air, the ultimate sign of disrespect. He felt a growl build low in his throat and he had to stop himself in danger of exposing himself.

“Team 2 come in” he heard the wolf that had been at the gate speak into his walkie talkie, annoyance flitted across his face when no response was heard, and he couldn’t help but smile at himself. “Team 2 come in” again there was no answer and some of the other wolves had noticed the beginnings of worry from the wolf who he supposes is their alpha.

“Team 5 come in” There was still no answer and he couldn’t help the bright grin that spread across his face, knowing that he was the reason why. “I swear if you guys are pulling some sort of joke I’ll have your asses in the cell again.” He saw the alpha start to pace in his worry, raking his hand through his hair as he kept talking into the device hoping to hear something. “PICK UP YOUR DAMN WALKIES!! NOW!!” When there was still no response and the wolves started to murmur amongst each other, did the alpha take control.

“Okay, team 3 go to base, see if Mary and Neil are there, and take these just in case” the alpha chucked a couple of small pistols at the two younger wolves before they quickly scurried out of the square. “Team 4 go to the gate, I sent Jane and Anita to relieve Manon, make sure he’s okay up there” Three wolves nodded, picking up their own guns before walking through the street towards the edge of the town.

He decided not to watch any further, instead putting his focus into the wolves heading towards the wall. He was able to quickly flit between houses until he was ahead of them using the element of surprise to his advantage. His back was pressed against the side of a house and he could hear his prey moving ever closer, he waited until they were almost past him before making his move, kicking his leg out and knocking the closest wolf to the floor before lunging for the next one’s throat. By the time the third wolf had realised what was happening and raised his gun, he’d moved away.

Years on the run had made him faster, more agile than the typical wolf, allowing him to quickly dodge around the two remaining wolves. It wasn’t long until one of them made a mistake causing them to expose their back to him. He was quick to take advantage, digging his claws down across the others back, the wolf letting out a howl of pain before collapsing to the floor, unconscious.

The final wolf looked at him in terror and sure enough was on his knees begging for mercy, he dropped his gun to plead at him to let him go, however he couldn’t afford to waste more time, darting his hand out and grasping it around the wolfs throat, gripping tighter and tighter until the wolf went limp in his hand.

He ran to the other side of the street and started navigating through the houses, eventually coming across the two wolves who had been sent to inspect the base, as they were returning to the alpha. He managed to move up behind them, using his hands to keep their mouths shut as he dragged them into a small alley between two houses where he made short work of dealing with them. Once done he quickly made his way back to the centre square where he was meet with the sight of a very nervous looking alpha.

“They should’ve been back by now, all of them should’ve been back. Something’s wrong” It seemed as if the alpha was talking to himself  but then he noticed a few wolves stand from their crouched positions behind the cages which his pack were still in.

“Maybe the walkies went down? Wouldn’t be the first time”

“Every walkie? Each with a battery back up? Even if they did we should’ve seen someone by now, it’s like a fucking ghost town.”

“Maybe they know something about it?” At that he saw the alpha perk up before making his way to Lukes’ cage, reaching through the bars to grab him by the hair and lift his head up out the dirt towards him.

“Do you know something about my pack disappearin’ huh?” Luke simply spat in his eye not giving the other alpha even a glance before his face was shoved hard into the stone. “You wanna try that again bitch? Now tell me do you know what’s going on?” Still Luke refused to answer, only glaring down the other alpha who simply sighed before turning back to his remaining pack. “It appears you’ve left me without another choice. Tim get my poker, maybe we’ll get some answers if we start getting them to squeal. Sam why don’t you get my kit from the truck, I’m sure you’d like your hand at a bit of revenge”

“Gladly” he noticed the wolf, Sam limp away in whatever direction he needed to be, glad that someone had managed to get a bite out of him.

With that the two wolves left, only leaving the alpha and another wolf in the square, as tempting as it was he had to stop the other two first, once again leaving his post to follow the larger of the two wolves. He didn’t go far before the wolf had gotten what he was after, a red-hot poker, knowing that he had to make his move now he ran for the wolf and was preparing to lunge when the wolf turned, brandishing the poker as a weapon. He barely managed to move out of the way, feeling the heat of the poker against his face as he quickly side stepped the next attack. In the corner of his eye he saw a small sharp hook hanging out the wall, which looked to have been part of some larger mechanism which had since been removed, not that he overly cared.

He kept lunging forward, forcing his attacker to keep stepping backwards in order to keep distance between them, each time the poker getting closer and closer as fatigue set in. It was with a final swing of the poker that he kicked the other wolfs chest, forcing him backwards onto the exposed hook, causing him to drop the poker which he quickly retrieved, digging it into the larger wolfs chest and twisting before pulling it out.

He examined his new weapon briefly, getting a feel for it as he caught his breath from the fight, with a final grimace he made his way back to the square, speeding up when he heard a piercing scream penetrate the quiet of the town.

When he got there he watched in horror as he saw one of the wolves, Sam, digging a scalpel into Tyler’s’ chest. With each cut there was another scream, gradually getting weaker and weaker, but they weren’t Tyler’s’, they were Craig’s’. Although not physically hurt, his mating bond with Tyler meant that he could feel every agonizing drag of the tool through his partners chest and Tyler was helpless to stop it, Craig’s’ screams seemed to be a better form of torture than whatever the wolf was doing to him.

He turned his eyes to the alpha who was still by Luke, trying to get any word he could out of him by any means necessary, but still he refused to talk. The third wolf seemed to be taunting Jon, a dangerous game to play even when he was in a good mood, telling him in every agonising, explicit detail about how he was going to make Evan his bitch in every way possible, while all he could was watch. Even from this distance he could see the fury in Jons’ eyes, see the hundred and one ways he’d already plotted this wolfs death.

He decided it was now or never, it was time to make his final move. He decided to go for the one near Jon, he was the furthest away and getting him down will favour his odds. As he slowly approached, poker in hand, he saw Jon look back at him briefly, silent recognition on his face as he kept the wolf in front of him distracted.

In one fast movement he impaled the wolfs shoulder, Jons hand darting out the cage to muffle any screams he may have made. He made sure his blow was none fatal, stabbing the poker into his leg as well for good measure, waiting until he had passed from pain or blood loss or even both, when freed he’s sure Jon will want to be the one to kill him.

The other two wolves seemed unaware of the fate of their companion, too intent on torturing the wolves in front of them. Jon shot him a worried glance, all he could do was give what he hoped was a reassuring nod before he made his final move.

He ran towards the wolf torturing Tyler, poker raised in hand, not caring how much noise he made now. Seeing what he was doing, Scotty and Nogla reached through their cage to grab hold of the wolfs arms when he turned to see what was coming towards him. The wolf struggled helplessly, fear clear in its eyes and screaming in its panic as he got closer until he was near enough to stab the poker into its chest. He didn’t look to see what damage he’d done, eyes focused on the alpha who now turned to notice him.

He crashed into the alpha who had only just managed to get his arms free of Lukes’ cage, causing them to fall to the floor. They grappled with one another, claws slicing into whatever skin they could reach and teeth constantly aiming for the others’ throat. Behind him he could hear shouts and cheers from his friends, spurring him on as he pushed through the pain and fatigue that was settling over him.

All it took was one wrong move and he was pinned against floor, the other alpha looming over him, twisted grin on his face as he raised his hand to give the final blow. It was then that a pained shout broke their fight and they both turned to see Luke looking on, helpless, with tears in his eyes, the other alphas grin getting even sicker.

“I’ll give you whatever you want just don’t hurt him, please” It was crushing to see Luke in this type of pain, he looked into his eyes, trying to convey everything he felt to his alpha before the killing blow.

“So now you wanna talk huh? Now I got your little runts life in between my hands” Despite the alpha’s words, he could feel the hold on his limbs weaken slightly, and whilst the wolf was distracted he wasted no time in his attack.

He lunged up, easily breaking the hold the alpha had on him, unable to defend himself he made quick work of tearing his teeth through the alphas throat. He kept tearing away at the now long dead wolf when Luke talked him down “Ryan you did it, he’s dead. You did so good, but could you get us out of these cages now”

He stared at his alpha, the world seeming to come into focus again and he got up, blood still dripping from his chin as he approached Lukes’ cage.

“The keys-“ Before Luke could finish his sentence he’d grabbed hold of the doors and pulled it off, ignoring a couple whistles he heard from the pack, he entered Lukes’ cage, snapping off the device so that Luke could move again and make his way out the cage.

He then went round breaking off the doors to each cage whilst Luke followed, keys in hand to remove them from their shackles. Once everyone was freed and had stretched out the pain in their joints from being in such a small space for a large amount of time, they swarmed him.

Thanking and congratulating him for saving them, asking numerous questions about how he escaped, where he learnt how to kick ass and if he could teach them. He was quickly being overwhelmed, not used to so much attention and adoration from people, he didn’t know where to begin, grateful when Luke swooped in to save him.

“I’m sure we all have questions for Ryan but for now, just say thanks, it’s been a long day for all of us. Everyone go grab whatever you can find that’s of use and load that truck. Jon, Tyler I’ll leave you two to deal with the wolves still alive” He’s sure he must look like something out of a horror story, blood covering his mouth and hands and dripping down his chin, but he’s sure he’s never seen anything scarier than the dangerous glint that shone in both those wolves’ eyes at Lukes’ words, happily going off to complete their duties. “Ryan I want to talk to privately for a minute”

Confused he followed the alpha into one of the now abandoned houses, barely shutting the door behind him before he was shoved back against the door, his legs being lifted up around Lukes’ hips, and said alphas lips pressed hard against his own.

He lost all brain function, unable to form a single coherent thought, simply letting himself be kissed by the alpha before the wolf pulled back, panic in his eyes. He was dropped gently back to the floor before Luke took several steps back, hands up defensively, and he could feel every ounce of fear, pain and rejection that Luke felt in that moment.

“Shit, I’m so sorry Ryan, I didn-, I thought- shitshitshit” The alpha was pacing nervously around the room, almost on the edge of tears as he kept repeating the same words. That’s when everything seemed to click, he was in love with Luke, more than that Luke was his mate and right now his mate needed him.

He moved from his place by the door and headed straight towards Luke, before the alpha could say a word he grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him closer, holding their lips together once again. There was barely a second of hesitation before Luke melted into the kiss, once again lifting him up before propping him up on a nearby table.

They parted for air, whilst he was trying to form any thought that wasn’t purely Luke, said wolf was nipping gently at his neck, he was more than happy to oblige the alpha and craned his head to allow Luke more space to work with, weaving his own fingers through the alphas soft, dark hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was hoarse as he spoke and felt Luke give one last sharp nip at his neck before looking back at him.

“I wanted you to find out on your own. I didn’t want to put any kind of pressure on you, I wanted you to like me for me, not just because our biology says you have to” Happy with the response he kissed Luke again, who pushed him further down onto the table so that the wolf was almost on top of him.

He was about to hitch his leg around Lukes’ waist in an attempt to get some much-desired friction when the alpha pulled his leg off of him and put it back down against the table, causing Luke to chuckle lightly at the confused look he’s sure is on his face.

“I want to, trust me” with those words the alpha moved his hips forward slightly, and it couldn’t be more obvious that Luke wanted it, however, Luke quickly moved his hips away again, stopping any attempt he may have made about wearing away at the alpha’s defences. “But, I want to do this properly. I want to court you like any good alpha should.”

Not one to be easily defeated he lifted his hips up, barely catching Lukes’ to get some sort of friction, before the alpha grabbed his hips and held them against the table.

“You’re gonna be the death of me I swear” He shivered as Luke growled the words in his ear, wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders before looking up at him.

“Please Alpha” he put on his best puppy dog eyes and hoped he was sticking his bottom lip out in a pout, silently cheering himself as he watches Lukes’ willpower shatter, the alpha once again leaning into his ear.

“I really don’t want our first time to be on some shitty table in some shitty town surrounded by dead dickheads.” Despite his words though, Luke still pressed his body against his, causing a whine to escape from his mouth, which only seems to spur Luke on as the alpha started to kiss his up his neck until he reached his mouth, taking all the time in world to explore his mouth whilst he slowly starts to move their hips together.

When they break apart he’s helpless to Lukes’ attack, can only hold on as he pleads to his alpha for something, anything, which Luke is all to happy to give him.

“Luke…Alpha” those words caused some sort of guttural growl to come from deep within Lukes chest, causing the alpha to renew the attack on his throat, what started out as playful nips get harder and he’s sure he’s going to come out with several large markings littering his throat by the end, before Luke once again presses their lips together.

They’re too focused on one another that they don’t hear the knock on the door, or said door open, only hear the disgusted shrieks of Jon who quickly left the room claiming to be scarred for life, causing them both to reluctantly part and to get off of the table. A moment later Tyler’s’ at the door telling them that everything’s packed and ready to go, giving the pair a final smirk before joining the others outside.

Luke gives him one final peck before leading him outside, calling the pack together before they head off. “At nightfall tomorrow Ryan will be sworn into the pack and will formally become my mate, if any of you fuckers disagree you can fight me on it” He paused, almost daring someone to challenge him but when there was no response forthcoming he continued. “Good, now lets get the fuck outta here”.

He started to follow Luke to the cockpit of the van before the alpha stopped him. “I don’t want to offend you Ryan but if you’re up there with me I’ll probably crash the truck” clearly put out Luke pressed a kiss to his forehead “We have plenty of time to catch up, don’t worry”.

With that Luke headed towards the driver seat whilst he made his way into the back of the truck, before he was stopped by Tyler.

“Look I know I’ve been harsh on you” He could only give the alpha a pointed look, causing the other wolf to look somewhat guilty as he continued “Okay I’ve been a dick, but it’s only because this pack means everything to me and I’d do anything to protect them. You did what I couldn’t, you saved them, and I’ll owe you for that, you and Luke will make great pack alphas”

“Thank you, Tyler” his throat was clogged with emotion, Tyler being the last person to expect any sort of praise from. The alpha simply patted his shoulder before leaving him to join Luke in the front, he climbed into the back, Brock quickly handing him a wipe which he only stared at confused.

“For the blood” His face grew red as he realised he still had blood staining his chin and hands, quickly wiping away as much of it as he could and graciously accepting a second one when Brock offered it. “So, you and Luke huh?”

“Uh yeah, me and Luke”

It was then that Anthony started to laugh quietly to himself, causing everyone to turn to him until he could stop long enough to explain himself. “Looks like you’re going to have to cancel your weekend plans Craig, Tyler’s’ going to have to do Lukes’ duties now that he’s going to be busy this weekend.” Everybody groaned, Craig especially, whilst Anthony kept giggling to himself.

Eventually quiet settled around them, he watched as the sun peeked over the horizon, casting the world into gold haze, the past 24 hours quickly catching up to him and as he felt his eyes droop he had the resounding thought that he was finally going home.

Since that day rumours spread amongst other packs about him, how they even started no one knows but if he was to place money on it he’d say it was Jon. He was called some giant wolf beast that took down an entire pack with nothing but his bare hands, how he had claws as sharp as razors, and who could move so fast that if you blinked, you’d miss him.

Needless to say, packs from far and wide tried to treaty with them, to form some sort of alliance, because who wouldn’t want some kind of beast straight from your nightmares on their team. Unsurprisingly, they were more than disappointed when they arrived to be met with him, barely scraping 5’5”, soft hazel eyes and floppy ears, with canines and claws half the size of the average wolf. It was with little surprise that most packs were quick to dismiss him, laughing him off to go back to his master before the dog catcher found him. Imagine their surprise when in a split second their back was on the floor, limbs pinned and teeth edging on their throat, sending the wolves scampering away with their tail between their legs all while Luke laughed on at them.

They were sat by the fire, having just played host to a neighbouring pack who barely lasted five minutes before running back to their territory, although the snow had stopped falling a thick layer of it still covered the forest floor. For this reason, he was cuddled up against Luke in an attempt to have as much warmth as possible. “Why do you keep inviting other packs here if you clearly have no intention of them joining us?” Luke simply chuckled and placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Because I want to show them how fuckin’ badass you are and not to try any funny business” He could only roll his eyes at the statement, Luke chuckling again before pressing his lips against his temple. “I love you” He waited, knowing that the silence was torturing the poor alpha and sure enough he felt Lukes cold nose brush against his neck, causing him to flinch away. “You not gonna say it back or what”

He laughed at the dismayed look on his alphas face, “I dunno, Anthony’s’ been looking pretty good lately don’t you think?” He couldn’t help but laugh at Lukes face which seemed to be frozen in a state of shock. Grabbing the lapels of Lukes’ coat he pulled the wolf closer to him, brushing their lips together lightly as he spoke. “I love you Luke, more than you know”.

He felt Luke weave a hand through his hair, holding him in place as he spoke “I think I have a good idea” and with that he pressed their lips together. It was soft and sweet, but it was them and he wouldn’t exchange it for anything in the world.

When they parted they pressed their foreheads together, just enjoying the feeling of having one another before he shoved Luke off of the log and into the snow, darting off into the opposite direction as fast as he could go.

“RYAN! WHAT THE FUCK!!” He heard Luke shout after him, but he kept running, hearing shouts of encouragement and laughs from his friends, “I am totally getting your ass for this” was the last thing he heard before Luke got up and started running after him. 

It had taken him 36 long years, but he’d finally found his home.

[policytensor]

The Great Divergence in living standards can be recovered from a number of proxies. Economists pay too much attention to per capita income. If we pay attention to that, the vast gulf between rich and poor nations is evident. But since per capita income grows exponentially in the modern growth regime, we get a poor sense of when the divergence began. In what follows, the income data is from the Maddison Project and the rest is from Clio-Infra. We arbitrarily define rich nations as those with per capita income at least half that of the United States in 2000.

The median of rich nations’ per capita income is close to $38,000; for the poor nations it’s closer to $7,300. We can track this better if we log transform the data.  We can see the structural break in the mid-nineteenth century. But incomes don’t really take off until the second half of the twentieth century.

We can also pick up the scent from other, more kosher, measures of living standards. I’ve argued before that actuarial variables like life expectancy are a much more reliable measure of living standards than national income statistics or anthropometric measures like stature. What is clear from two graphs above and below is that the poor world shared in the uptick, but the rich world pulled further away. (Note that we don’t have enough data for 2010 — we shouldn’t read too much into the rise in life expectancy in the poor world during 2000-2010.)

Stature is confounded by Bergmann’s rule — bigger bodies are found in colder climes. But gain in stature is a good measure of the divergence in living standards. Stature began to diverge at the turn of the century. By 1980, people in the rich world were 7.8cm or 3 inches taller than people in the poor world.

Clio-Infra’s Well-Being Index displays a similar pattern.

Crucial to the story, although often overlooked, including by the present writer, is the demographic transition. Economists think that high fertility rates are characteristic of all premodern societies. Anthropologists know better. Hunter-gatherers have much lower fertility rates than sedentary people, largely on account of the fact that it is difficult to stay on the move with toddlers. Thus, the Malthusian regime itself has a history — population growth could wipe up gains in living standards only after the long Neolithic transition, c. 10-5ka, and even then it took millennia for packing thresholds to bind. Indeed, it is not until well into historic time (beginning at Uruk, c. 3200 BC) that Malthusian discipline began to affect most agrarian populations on the planet. Recall that the spread of the Neolithic way of life was very slow.

The Western world had slightly lower fertility rates than other agrarian societies. But fertility rates started falling rapidly after 1870. The Fertility transition occurred in the rich world nearly a century before the poor world.

Britain and India are characteristic. Fertility began falling in earnest in Britain around 1880 and 1970 in India. As we can see from the graph above, this is typical.

Galor and others have traced the fertility transition to increasing rewards for human capital in the core of the world economy as a result of the Industrial Revolution. What is particularly interesting about Galor’s “Unified Growth Theory” is that the international division of labor that emerged in the late-19th century not only put downward pressure on fertility rates in the north. It also put upward pressure on fertility rates in the south, as the periphery came to specialize in primary production for the world’s factories up north. This is a much more compelling channel from the global division of labor to the great divergence than the one of offer in standard core-periphery schema. The picture of the rich growing richer and the poor growing poorer as a result of differences in profit rates or terms of trade (“development of underdevelopment”) is not persuasive — the rich world largely traded with itself. Much more compelling is the dynamic picture. As Braudel put it, it was better to specialize in wine than barley.

The level of per capita income is highly correlated with fertility rates. The standardized slope coefficient (with both the response and the predictor regularized) is -0.81, meaning that a one standard deviation higher fertility rate predicts a 0.81 standard deviations lower log per capita income.

But what is the proximate channel through which fertility rates affect income levels? Part of the answer is investment in human capital. Education is as correlated with income (beta=-0.81) than fertility (beta=-0.81).

Fertility rates are very tightly correlated with education as well (beta=-0.92, although the quadratic is a much better fit since fertility rates eventually stabilize at a low level).

If fertility affects income levels only through education then the gradient ought to vanish once we control for the latter. This is not the case. The gradient is attenuated but remains robust, suggesting that there are other channels from fertility to income levels beyond merely mean years of schooling.

Nothing changes if we change our response from per capita income to life expectancy or Clio-Infra’s well-being index.

But level variables are confounded by all sorts of factors. It is almost always better to look at growth rates. Again we find that change in fertility rates are highly correlated with change in per capita income (beta=-0.76).

While robust in the simple regression, the fertility gradient vanishes once we control for national gains in average years of schooling. The implication is clear. Nations where the fertility decline is less marked invest less in educating their young (perhaps because you can’t educate all eight of your kids on a meager income) and this, in turn, predicts lower gains in per capita income as a result of slower human capital formation.

The interpretation of these patterns is simple but compelling. The demographic transition is a crucial part of the story. The rise of the modern world economy in the mid-19th century magnified slight differences in skill levels by triggering a virtuous feedback loop in the advanced zone whereby people began to have fewer children and invest more in them. It may also have arrested development on the periphery, by driving fertility rates even higher — although the data to test this hypothesis is sparse.

Galor is much more interesting and serious than I had realized. The non-existent hump-shaped relationship is at best a correction term in an otherwise interesting model of the hockey stick and the great divergence.

    Demography and Global Polarization The Great Divergence in living standards can be recovered from a number of proxies. Economists pay too much attention to per capita income.

[onotherflights]

E F K L S otayuri 😏

(finally getting to this omg i’m so sorry)

E = Experience: The usual HC is that Otabek has more experience than Yuri, but i’d like to entertain the idea that he doesn’t. He has charm in spades for sure, but when it comes to actual sexual experience he’s so shy and timid. When they first begin their physical relationship, Otabek is so afraid to do something that doesn’t feel right or hurt Yuri in any way. Yuri has to encourage him and reassure him that he’s doing everything right (side HC: Otabek will turn to Yuri after sex for the first few months and say “was it good?” but he won’t take “yes” for an answer he needs a well-structured and outlined pros and cons list with MLA-formatted sources). As for Yuri, he’s very sex positive. He may or may not have had previous partners but he definitley knows his own body and he knows what he likes. So he comes into their relationship very much knowing what he wants to happen, and Otabek exceeds his expectations after some practice.

F = Favourite Position: classic missionary is an easy answer, and i think it’s defnitley Otabek’s favorite becuase he’s a classic lol. He loves being able to be so close and intimate with Yuri, to see that softer side, and to be able to kiss him while they’re having sex. As for Yuri, any position is great, but he’s slightly partial to riding, espcially when Otabek lets him pin his hands down so he just lays there while Yuri does most of the work. It makes him feel really powerful, and it spurs on the praises from Otabek to the max. (”You look so beautiful like this Yura, using me to fuck yourself.” Is the thing that makes Yuri’s toes curl and his soul leave his body)

K = Kink: Going off of that, do i really need to introduce Yuri “praise kink” Plisetsky to anyone or is this established fanon already? As for Beka, I think he’s really into wax play for some reason?? idk this is an underdeveloped HC but I have this HC for Beka really liking all of his senses stimulated when they’re having sex, but especially scent, so he lights candles/incense and it’s always really thick and strong but he loves it (and Yuri eventually becomes conditioned to get excited when he smells patchouli or jasmine) but ANYWAY with the wax play the idea of feeling the hot wax dripping on his back combined with the smell and the feeling of Yuri sitting on him…. yea he would be in heaven. 

L = Location: They’re quite private people, especially Otabek. So i don’t think public sex would be a thing (except that one time in the dressing room), but they definitley prefer to be home. More accurately, they prefer to be in a bed (because with their skating life, home is sometimes a hotel for a little while). But honestly, when they’re home, no surface is off limits. Their kitchen counter, the sofa, Otabek’s favorite armchair, in the shower, the floor…

S = Stamina: This really depends on the context of the situation. If they haven’t seen each other for a while or if Yuri has been subtly teasing him all day, it’s going down and it’s going down fast. But when they’re home, especially when it’s off-season, they go a round in the morning and a round or two at night. Otabek always tries to make sure Yuri comes first, because he’s polite. 

Send me letters for NSFW Headcanons!

[diminuel]

Reverse Lamb!Verse Prompt Fic: 

Lamb!dean throwing a tantrum and hurting cas feelings without meaning to? but apologising after because he feels so bad ;w; 

Consider it an outtake or teaser of the bigger story I’m writing and will post on AO3 as soon as I’ve made some more progress with it! :D I apologize if it doesn’t make much sense without more context.

Note: not beta read so I’m hoping for the best. *lol*

Dean rarely skipped breakfast. Now that the academic semester was nearing its end, Dean spent most of his time either locked up in his room or at the library. Their time together was consequently cut short. Castiel didn’t deny that he missed seeing Dean around all the time and that he took comfort in their quiet mornings together.

But this morning Castiel put their usual breakfast of porridge on the table, a smile on his face as he sat down. He ajusted the placement of the jug of juice, fidgeted a bit with the flowers he had put in a vase. And he waited. Dean wasn’t one to sleep long. For all of his grumbling early in the morning, he was usually up with the sun (or even before, now that the days were short) and studying by the time Castiel got up. Just as Castiel wanted to check on him, he heard him thundering down the stairs. But instead of coming into the kitchen Dean left the house without even a good-morning.

Castiel, while disappointed, didn’t put much stock in it. Dean was a teenager and his mood could be a bit tempestuous. He’d calm down soon enough. But one morning of ditched breakfasts became two, became three and by Friday, Castiel was worried.

After a dissatisfying breakfast he ventured into Dean’s room to get the laundry. And he also took the chance to snoop around. Maybe Dean's scent would clear up what this was about. It couldn't be rut related moodiness, because alphas of his kind didn’t have any ruts until they were a bit older. So why was Dean keeping his distance? The room looked as it always did; almost spotless, the used clothes in the hamper and the desk groaning under the weight of books. He knew that Dean didn’t like him ‘sniffing around’ his stuff, but Dean also knew that Cas was a wolf and this was his territory. There was no way that he wouldn’t be ‘sniffing around’ while doing chores. So Cas went around the room, collecting the laundry, tugging at the bedspread so even out wrinkles, and bundled some loose paper. The smell in here wasn’t out of the ordinary in any way. It was Dean’s usual fresh pasture scent, though slightly shifted. It was harder to read people who weren’t wolves, but he was pretty sure that whatever he was picking up on was frustration. But why?

While taking the laundry out into the backyard to let them soak he tried to remember if he did anything to cause Dean’s annoyance. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Castiel’s life was as predictable and unexciting as ever. He heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Dean didn’t have to share with him if he had problems in class but Castiel still considered it his duty to make sure that he was doing well. He really didn’t want to have Jody Mills getting on his case because he neglected his guardian duty. No. He would have to know what was up.

Mind made up, Castiel put on his coat, switched the open sign to closed and went out into the chilly December air. It was almost midday but Fernbridge lay under a canopy of thick clouds and it was bitter cold. Nobody but Castiel was on the streets and that was more than alright with him. While people had slightly gotten used to his presence, Castiel still took their open hostility to heart. But this was a concern for another day.

He made his way straight to The Old Bear. Friday was when Dean usually went to lunch with other students of his anatomy class if Castiel remembered correctly. Castiel looked at the building with some apprehension, but eventually he pulled the heavy door open and stepped into the restaurant. Castiel had been inside once before to deliver an order to Benny. Back then the restaurant had been empty, but now Castiel was greeted by the sound of voices and the smell of food. There were only a couple of patrons now, with half an hour to go before it was officially lunch time, but of course they took note of Castiel's arrival all at once. Castiel tried not to react to the staring and the muttering. If he just acted casually, surely they wouldn't chase him out. He pulled off his coat and folded it over his arms. He tried to remember Benny's advice: keep the ears up, don't tuck your tail between your legs, don't act so submissive. He still felt his ears twitch even as he forced his chin up. A quick glance didn't reveal Benny, who would have been a great help right about now. Castiel silently made his way over to a table in the corner where the other patrons couldn't glare at him without having to turn around in their seats. After a while the tense muttering calmed down and they had gone on to ignore Castiel. So far so good. Nobody was daring to throw him out. Castiel looked up when he caught a hint of Benny's scent. A guy was leaning over the counter, pointing at Cas and talking to Benny. Benny put one of his big hands on the guy's shoulder and turned him away, then he crossed the room to stand in front of Castiel.

"Staying out of trouble, right Cas?"

"What did he say to you?" Castiel asked, gesturing towards the guy who had sat back down, glaring at him over his beer.

"The usual. That you were probably in heat and here to bewitch some honest man to do terrible things to you," Benny said with a chuckle and Castiel heaved a sigh. "That's not why you're here, right? You don't smell like heat. And I'm sure you can do better than the couple of drunkards here." Benny looked over his shoulder and added, loud enough to be heard: "Who, despite all of their grouching, probably fantasize about an hour in the back alley with a wild and untamed omega."

"Please. Don't agitate them," Castiel complained even though there was some laughter from the other end of the room. "I'm actually here to talk to Dean." Benny lifted his eyebrow, his surprise evident. Castiel reached into his pocket and drew out a couple of coins. "I have money."

"Hey there. Don't worry, omega," Benny said, his calm voice causing Castiel to draw a deep breath. "I'm not kicking you out. Of course you can wait here for your little man." Benny took the money out of Castiel's still outstretched hand and then left him. "Your lunch will be right up."

Castiel folded his hands on top of the table and waited. The restaurant was slowly filling and he received one or the other look. While people avoided to sit close to his table, nobody actually said anything to him. Castiel was glad that the city folk's sense of smell was underdeveloped, otherwise they would have long picked up the anxiety. Benny came back with a glass of wine, some soup and some bread. It smelled heavenly. He was nibbling his bread by the time the door swung open and brought with it Dean's unmistakable scent and the laughter of a couple of young men. All of them were at least a head taller and some years his senior, but the lamb carried himself with his usual confidence. One of his friends elbowed Dean in the ribs and then pointed towards Castiel. Castiel lifted his hand but quickly let it drop again when Dean's expression went from surprised to irritated.

Oh no.

The group took a seat at a previously reserved table and a waitress promptly came with inviting smiles and tall glasses of beer for all. Dean took a couple of quick gulps, draining half the glass in seconds – to the amusement of his friends and the protest of the only girl in the group. She was dark haired, beautiful. Castiel didn't know the name of a single one of them, even though Dean probably spent almost every day with them. Dean put the glass back down and then came straight for Cas. He still wore an irritated expression when he sat down in the chair opposite.

"Are you here to see Benny?"

"Oh, no. Actually, I've been hoping to see you." Dean raised both of his eyebrows until they disappeared under his curly bangs. Up close he smelled… Like the anatomy theatre. It was obvious that he had used soap but the smell of death clung to him like a cloud of perfume. Castiel raised his wine glas, breathing in the sharp sour scent of it instead.

"Care to tell me why?" Dean asked to know and it was clear to Cas in that moment that he was the cause of Dean's irritation. He didn't understand why.

"I was worried about you. I haven't seen you in four days," Castiel argued and Dean frowned.

"And you couldn't wait with your overbearing omega act until I was back home?" he demanded to know and Castiel couldn't help it; he flattened his ears to his head.

"Of course, but you always lock your door…" Dean got back up from the chair, his ears flicked up once, clearly annoyed.

"I just want to spend some time with the guys and not hang out in a ramshackle hut with someone who wouldn't even know what a social life was if it bit him in the balls." Castiel opened his mouth at this, but was much too taken aback by Dean's words to actually say anything. In the end he stuttered out a weak "Omegas don't have testicles." Dean was already talking over him:

"You're a wolf. Surely you understand territory, right?" Dean gestured towards the table where the other members of his group were now starting on their own lunch, laughing and Castiel forgotten. Though the woman sometimes shot a worried look in Dean's direction. Castiel felt a pang deep in his chest. "If you just show up out of the blue, you- Hey!"

"I apologize for overstepping," Castiel quickly said when his sudden standing up caused Dean to protest. He left some more coins for Benny as an apology and a thank you, then he pulled on his coat and maneuvered past Dean, through the tables and out of the door. His breath formed small clouds before his mouth as he hurried through the back alleys and narrow streets. He didn't want to run because that would draw suspicious. He felt the wood of his shop door under his palms, the grain familiar. He pushed it open and slammed it close. The shop was chilly and he went to the fire place. His fingers trembled when he lit the fire. Cold. It flickered to life and Castiel sat down in front of it. He didn't bother taking off his cloak.

At least now he had his answer. He just wished that he could have understood the reason of Dean's behavior without making such a sorry fool of himself. He lifted his hand to his face, rubbing his palm over his face. Of course Dean wanted to spend time with his friends and it was more than clear to Castiel that Dean wanted to keep the boundaries up between his studies and his life with Castiel. He didn't exactly blame him for that. But he had assumed that in the past four months they had formed a genuine friendship. Castiel cared for him and he had hoped… Well. That Dean cared for him too. All his alpha posturing aside, Castiel had hoped that there was some substance to Dean's attempts at courtship.

"Hey." The coat slipped off Castiel's shoulders. "You should really lock the door if you plan to space out like that." Dean tossed the coat over the counter and sat down in the armchair next to the fire. He had grown a couple of centimeters in the last months and the soles of his beaten leather shows now touched the floor. Castiel doubted this was the moment to mention it. Especially as Castiel was… not sad. No. Disappointed maybe. A part of him was angry.

"Why? There's nothing to steal in a 'ramshackle hut'," Castiel retorted flatly, raising his hands from his knees to make air quotes. Dean huffed.

"My books cost the city at least a hundred pounds," Dean argued. There was a pause and Castiel wondered if he should fill it by voicing some of the tension that made his chest feel so tight. "And there's you." Castiel lowered his eyebrows and turned around halfway to look at Dean. He wore a serious expression. His ears were lowered. He was sorry. Or angry. Both probably. With Dean it wasn't easy to say.

"Right." Dean sighed and folded his hands between his legs. The gesture made him look more mature than he was.

"Look, Cas. I'm an ass."

"I thought you were a lamb, but go on," Castiel answered dryly and the corner of Dean's mouth twitched.

"Haha, very funny," he said, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. "What I said back there… It wasn't nice. I'm sorry."

"You weren't wrong. This house isn't very elaborate, nor do I have a social life."

"Yeah, but you have made this house a home for me. You put all that effort into it. Hell, you even let me keep taps on my height by scratching into the door frame." Castiel laughed gently at that. "And I know that the only reason you don't have a social life is because you've been an outcast for so long. It was unfair to say what I did." Dean got up from his chair and pulled at Castiel's arm. "Come on, don't sit on the ground like that. It makes you look dramatic." Castiel let himself be pushed into the second armchair.

"Why did you? Why are you so upset, Dean?" Dean sighed and let himself drop back down into his own chair.

"Because I'm an outsider too, alright? Lisa and the guys are all… city kids. I mean, damn. They're not even kids! Almost all of them are already 20 and even though they are nice and let me tag along, I feel like I'm not… Part of them, you know? When they have parties over at Victor's place I can't come because he's the kind of over correct dude that won't let me drink any hard stuff until I'm 18."

"Reasonable," Castiel argued, though lifted his hands when Dean shot him a glare.

"I'm just that little lamb from Kleeweiden. I'm like half their size, talk with an accent and the only reason my clothes don't come apart at the seams is because you mend them. I'm just trying to prove something to them. Not sure what. 's probably not worth it if I'm being a dick to you over it." Dean pursed his lips and glared into the fire. Castiel studied him for a while. "I'm sorry. I probably gave you the impression that I'm ashamed of you or something," Dean said and turned his head so he could look at Cas. "I'm not. I'm just stupid."

"Dean… you're not stupid," Castiel assured him. "I understand you. I would prefer if you talked to me the next time instead of avoiding me though." Dean groaned in exaggeration and slumped down in his chair. But then he sprang to his feet. Castiel's heart sank slightly when Dean put his coat back on. "Do you have to go back?"

"Yeah, but I promise I'll be back in time for dinner." Castiel smiled at him and Dean fidgeted a moment, but then he walked up to him and pressed a kiss into his hair. "See you later, omega."

"See you later, Dean," Castiel replied and watched Dean through the shop window. Castiel felt lighter now, with the worry for Dean at least slightly lessened. Of course, he hoped for Dean to feel less self-conscious. But he knew that he had it in himself to succeed. He was a stubborn guy after all. He always got his way. Castiel shook his head.

Time to get back to work.