#he was in such terrible condition when i adopted him like wasn’t sure i wouldn’t have to put him down at 8mos awful condition | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

casuallyimagining · 4 years ago

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Fix You (1)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal? Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 3,660 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: This is for the March project for @thebtswritersclub. The prompt word was ‘adventure’ and I mean, what’s more of an adventure than adopting a pet? Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae, @hoebii and @aroseforyoongi for editing various parts of this for me.

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“That cat got into Rick’s chickens again. Killed a couple chicks. He said he’s going to kill it if he sees it on his property.”

Your dad had said it nonchalantly, barely glancing over his newspaper. Without a second thought, you were out the door. There was no way to be sure, not really, but the sinking feeling in your stomach made you run a little faster down your parents’ driveway.

You could have sworn you saw that cat slinking under Rick’s fence on your walk earlier.

Rick’s property neighbored that of your parents, but you wouldn’t necessarily consider him their neighbor. If you stood on their front porch, you could just barely make out Rick’s house through the stand of trees that served as the property line. Your parents had chosen to let their piece of the world be natural, carving out just enough space for a house and a decent sized yard all those years ago. It had made for some great childhood adventures in the woods: pretending fairies were real, living out your childhood fantasies of being some sort of wizard, making friends with the trees--normal kid stuff.

Rick, on the other hand, had turned his land into farmland, even though he neither farmed nor cared for the land. The vast rolling fields of Rick’s “farm” were mostly bare. He had a pond in one corner on the other side of the property, and he had a small cabin for hunting when game season started. Mostly, though, Rick raised chickens. Annoying things, the chickens were, not unlike Rick himself. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the hens’ incessant clucking from your parents’ house, and the roosters never seemed to shut up.

When you moved to the city to attend college, you were elated to get away from the chickens.

According to your dad, the cat had showed up in the woods a few weeks ago, and it had made an enemy out of Rick almost immediately. The poor thing was skinny--too skinny, like it had been living on the streets for a while--and though its dark fur was ruddy and matted, you could tell it would be a beautiful onyx if taken care of.

As you got closer to Rick’s farm, you heard barking and a sharp yowl, and you hurried in the direction of the sounds, afraid of what you’d find. Rounding the corner of the chicken coop, you gasped in horror.

Rick stood with his back to you, shotgun in his hands. His dog, an old bird hound with caramel spotted fur, had the cat clutched in his mouth, the dog’s teeth sunk directly into the cat’s shoulder. The cat, to its credit, had puffed itself up greatly, its tail nearly double its normal size. It was growling and hissing, and, despite the pain it was almost certainly in, was swiping at the dog with its front claws.

“Call your dog off, Rick.” Your voice was steadier than you thought it would be. You were out of breath from the run over there, and being anywhere near Rick with a gun and his snarling dog made you a little uneasy.

“Fuck off.” The man barely turned his head to you. “Damn cat’s been a pain in my ass since someone dumped it here. It killed four of my chicks.”

“Look at it. Of course it’s going after your chickens. You don’t keep them in their coop. It’s starving.”

“Damn thing should stay at your soft-ass parents’ house if it wants handouts.” Rick cocked his gun, pointing it at the cat. The cat’s copper eyes flashed to Rick at the sound. It looked terrified.

The fact that it knew what a gun was and knew to be afraid of it broke your heart a little bit.

“Call off the dog,” you said again, taking a step toward him, hands splayed out in front of you placatingly. “Calm down. I’ll get the cat out of your hair, and you won’t have to worry about it again.”

“Ain’t going to replace my chickens.” Rick’s voice was gruff, but he lowered the gun.

“I’ll pay for your chickens. Just call off your dog.”

He stared at the cat, the gun clutched in his hands but no longer pointing it at anything. For a second, you thought he was going to sicc the dog on the poor thing just to spite you and make a point. You had a feeling he was the type of person to do that. But after a tense stare down, he whistled through his teeth.

“Drop it,” he commanded the dog. The dog looked to its owner, and he repeated the command. It took a second, but the dog released its bite, and the cat slumped to the ground. Rick regarded the cat with a sneer before turning to you. “Take care of that thing. If I see it on my property one more time, it won’t be so lucky.”

You nodded tensely, and he whistled again. The dog trotted over to Rick’s side and the two walked off. You stared after him for a moment. A pained yowl drew your attention back to the cat.

The cat looked angry, and you didn’t blame it. Its tail was still puffed up, and you could tell that if it hadn’t just been attacked by a dog, its hackles would be straight up. Its copper eyes glared at you, its ears flat against its head. You approached cautiously, and it growled deeply in its throat.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothed, crouching down to make yourself less threatening. “I’m going to get you help. Is that okay?”

The cat hissed at you and attempted to back away. It made two limping steps before collapsing into the mud around the coop.

“That’s alright. It’s okay.” You sighed, unsure of your next steps. You didn’t want to traumatize the cat by coming any closer, and you really didn’t want to risk injuring it further by picking it up and having it fight you.

You looked at the cat, blinking slowly when you accidentally made eye contact with it. You had read somewhere that blinking was a way to show a cat that you weren’t a threat, and though you felt kind of silly, at this point, you were willing to try anything.

“What am I going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned, sitting down in the mud. The cat looked at you curiously, as if asking what the fuck you were doing. “I don’t want Rick to hurt you,” you confessed. “I’d like to take you somewhere safe.”

Truthfully, that was part of the reason why you were even visiting your parents. Your mom had told you about the cat, and how it didn’t seem to be wearing any collar, and while you were visiting them you wanted to try to trap it, either to bring it to live with you, or to take it to a nice shelter where it could get a good meal and hopefully find a nice family.

“Can I take you to the vet, at least?” You really were desperate, talking to the cat as if it understood what you were saying. The cat, to its credit, looked at you, copper eyes staring into your face before it blinked, just once, slowly and deliberately.

When you reached out to it, it didn’t growl.

You stood and approached the cat, doing your best not to make any sudden moves. You scooped it up gently, careful not to jostle his left shoulder too much, and cradled it close to your chest.

The walk back to your parents’ house was slow, but the trip to the vet was even slower.

It was a weekend, so the vet in your parents’ sleepy little suburb was closed. You had no choice but to pack your bags back up and make the trek home to the city to take the cat to the 24/7 emergency veterinary hospital.

You tapped your hand on the steering wheel. Traffic wasn’t usually this terrible on a weekend, but there was some sort of sporting event happening, so of course, all the roads into the city were clogged.

Stopped at a red light, you spared a glance toward your passenger seat. The cat laid on his side--it was a him, your mother had confirmed--his breathing labored. You could tell he was still on edge. His tail was still puffed up like a cat-of-nine-tails, and he kept eyeing you warily. But he had let you wrap him in a blanket and carry him to your car, and he had stayed on the seat, almost like he knew it was the safest place for him.

“Almost there, kitty,” you mumbled, changing lanes, finally free of the congestion. “Hang on just a little longer.”

Thankfully, the vet wasn’t busy, and you were able to get in with the assistant almost right away. You explained everything that had happened to her as she examined the cat, tutting slightly as she checked his shoulder.

“There are some punctures, but nothing that’s too worrying. I can bandage it and give you some antibiotics.” The assistant pulled her hand back as the cat swatted at her for touching his shoulder a little too forcefully. “Do you know if he has an owner? It would be helpful to know his shot records.”

You shook your head. “He just showed up in the woods one day.”

“We’ll get him a full round of vaccines, then, too.” Copper eyes met yours, and for a second, you thought you saw a look of concern cross them. But then he blinked, and it was gone.

The vet ordered an MRI, and thankfully, because it was a large veterinary hospital connected with the local university, they were able to do it the same day. So you ended up staying at the vet for two hours as they anesthetized the cat and did the scan. While the cat was waking up, the vet called you into the exam room.

“We checked for a microchip, and there was none,” the vet--Dr. Jung--informed you, his brow furrowed. “Based on the cat’s malnutrition and the condition of the coat, it’s likely he was a stray for at least a few months.” You nodded. The poor cat. “We should have the MRI results soon. I’ll give you a call in a few hours once I get a chance to read them. Normally, since he’s a stray, we would contact our foster network to see if anyone would be able to take him in. But since you brought him in-”

“I’ll keep him,” you said quickly. You were planning on it anyway. Just because he was hurt didn’t mean you were willing to give him up.

“Good.” Dr. Jung smiled at you. “My assistant is wrapping his shoulder now, and we’d like to just monitor him for a few more minutes to make sure he’s coming out of the anesthesia well, but you should be clear to take him home after that.” He placed a box on the table between you. “This is Clavamox. One millilitre twice a day for seven days. I don’t think he’ll develop an infection, but since he was so dirty, I think it’s probably better to be safe.” You nodded and pocketed the box. “We also gave him a rabies shot while he was here. It’s standard because he was bitten. If you notice any symptoms, please call us immediately. Once he’s feeling better, we can get him the rest of the vaccines he needs.”

You nodded. This was a lot all at once. And you didn’t even know what you wanted to call the cat yet.

Dr. Jung seemed to be able to tell you were feeling overwhelmed, because he offered you a comforting smile and patted your shoulder. “I’m going to go check on him. You can come if you want.”

As soon as you entered the room, groggy copper eyes were on you. The poor thing looked stoned out of his mind, but there was recognition there, and that gave you some comfort. At least he wasn’t glaring at you anymore. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped his shoulder, so he had a bandage from his upper left front leg wrapped all the way around his chest and up around his shoulders.

“What are we going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned softly, reaching out and gently placing your hand on his head.

After checking the cat’s vitals one last time, Dr. Jung let you leave.

He was limp in your arms as you carried him into your apartment, still a little drugged up from the anesthesia. The whole way back to your apartment, he had sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window like a drunk, moody college student.

“It’s up to you if you want to stay, kitty,” you told him, gently laying him down on your couch as soon as you kicked your shoes off. Of course you wanted to keep him. You had grown attached to him in the few hours you had been with him. But if he was miserable, you were willing to help him find somewhere that was more suited for his needs.

He tried to stand, succeeding only long enough to give a dramatic wobble before collapsing back into the overstuffed cushion. While he was completely recovered from the anesthesia, Dr. Jung had warned you that the cat might be feeling the side effects for a day or so. You reached out to pet him, but his copper eyes slanted into a glare, and you pulled back.

Assuming the cat was hungry, you left him alone and headed into the kitchen. You had some chicken in the fridge, and you thought maybe he would enjoy some fresh meat he didn’t have to steal. You weren’t sure when his last real meal was, so you wanted to go easy on his digestive system until you knew he was feeling better. You’d have to stop and get cat food at some point, but for now, chicken would do.

You did your best to trim off all the fat from the chicken breast. You knew he wouldn’t mind eating it--cats ate weirder things from fresh kills, after all--but you figured with how thin he was, lean meat would probably be better. Carefully, you cut it up into small, easy-to-chew chunks and put some on a plate, wrapping the rest and putting it into the fridge for later. You used a dropper to evenly spread the required dose of the antibiotics onto the chicken in hopes that it would make it easier to give him the medicine.

Returning to the living room, you noticed that the cat hadn’t moved aside from doing his best to curl up as small as possible in the corner of the couch. You tried not to make eye contact with him as you pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it on the cushions. You weren’t particularly keen on having raw chicken all over your furniture, but you sat the plate on the blanket anyway. There was no way you trusted the cat to be able to jump down off your couch at this point.

“Here’s some chicken, kitty.” You gestured toward the plate, and he eyed it warily, unmoving. You supposed he would feel more comfortable eating if you weren’t in the room. “Don’t leave it too long--it’ll go bad. I have to go do some work. I’ll be in my office if you need me. It’s just down the hall.” As you stood up, you paused. You were talking to a cat. You were talking to a cat as if it could understand exactly what you were saying.

Maybe your parents were right. Maybe you had been living alone for too long.

Your mother had suggested you get a hybrid when you first moved to the city--a nice, loyal, protective one, like a German shepherd hybrid or a golden retriever--but you had never gone further than passively looking.

You were happy for the hybrids. A majority of them were still owned, but they could move about their lives freely and without question. It was illegal to treat them as servants, and all ownership had to be consensual, though you weren’t sure how well those rules were enforced. You didn’t really understand how someone could just own a hybrid--they were people, after all, even if their DNA was a little altered. It was weird to you, owning another sentient being like that.

Their lives were certainly much better than they had been. Some hybrids were naturally occurring, but others--a majority of them--had been created by rich and powerful individuals and the government in secret during some shady human experiments in the early 20th century. And, of course, because they were experiments, it created a whole host of problems regarding rights and discrimination.

But despite all the improvements, there was still a long way to go. There was nothing wrong with owning a hybrid if it was consensual, but that didn’t mean you were necessarily comfortable with it.

After a few hours of sitting at your desk working on your most recent graphic design project for work, you turned away and stretched. If you had to stare at the color chartreuse for ten more minutes, you thought you would go blind. It was time to check on the cat anyway, and you wanted to make sure you threw away any chicken that was left on the plate you had given him so he wouldn’t get sick.

When you entered the living room, you were immediately confused. The cat was gone, but so was your blanket. The plate was still on the couch, almost exactly where you left it, but it was entirely empty. Wonderful. You had taken in some sort of Houdini cat.

You grabbed the plate and put it in the sink, trying to look for your blanket as you went. You found it when you returned to the living room, the corner sticking out from under your TV stand. There was just enough space between the bottom shelf and the floor for the cat to fit under, and apparently he had taken the blanket with him. You couldn’t really blame him--it was April, and it was late evening, and your floors were still a little chilly.

“Hey kitty?” you called, bending down to see if you could see him under the shelf. You had thought about it while working, and at this point, you were just going to lean into the whole ‘talking to the cat like he’s a person’ thing. “It’s starting to get late. I’m going to go get ready for bed, okay?” You could just barely see his copper eyes hidden all the way under the TV stand. His pupils were blown wide to capture all the ambient light they could. “You can explore or whatever you’re comfortable with tonight, but please don’t ruin my stuff. Please be a good kitty.”

He blinked once and continued to stare blankly at you.

“Okay, well… if I don’t see you, goodnight.”

You stood and headed off to your bathroom to start your nightly routine. It only took you about a half an hour, but you were soon laying down in bed with your book. You had started it a few days ago, but you were hooked, and you were already almost done with it. The author had managed to somehow insert a space alien robot into today’s modern digital age, and you found it fascinating. You would never look at social media and influencers the same way after reading this book.

It was cozy in your room with the little bedside lamp on, snuggled up in your blankets. Your bed was soft--it was one of those that you could change it using a remote to fit your mood and preference, but you almost always preferred it soft--and you had plenty of blankets and pillows to make it comfortable.

You only had a few pages left when you noticed it, the shadow lingering in the hallway, slowly getting closer to your open bedroom door. It started out against the wall across the hall. When you next looked up after glancing down to your book, the shadow had moved to your doorway. He even had turned his head away like he was pretending it was a coincidence that he had ended up in your room.

He was walking with a slight limp, which was unsurprising given the bandage and the fact that he was attacked not even 12 hours before. He was much more lucid than he was when you first brought him home, though you could tell he was still a little groggy. You didn’t say anything to him--you figured if you did, he would bolt, so you let him do what he wanted.

After a few minutes--maybe 15 or 20--you closed your book quietly, careful not to startle the cat. You glanced at the doorway and didn’t see him, so you put your book on your nightstand and turned off the light. It took you a second, but you snuggled down into the blankets, pulling them tightly around you. You were just about to drift off when you felt it.

Something landed gently on your bed by your feet. It paused for a moment before slowly making its way up the bed to your head, its gait uneven. When it got to the other pillow, it laid down. You risked opening an eye then, and were met with copper eyes staring back at you.

He watched you warily, as if waiting for you to yell or kick him off the bed. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed, and he slowly allowed himself to lay down, his head on his paws, curled up as best as he could be.

You fell asleep to the sound of him snoring lightly.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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#yoongi x reader #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #hybrid yoongi #hybrid yoongi x reader #bts hybrid au #hybrid au #thebtswritersclub #yoongi hybrid au #hybrid bts #hybridyoongi #yoongi hybrid #yoongihybrid #yoongi angst #bts angst #min yoongi angst

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sylverstorms · 3 years ago

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Donna x Elena ----From Winter to Spring

This is a commission written for the lovely @saltwatereulogies and I cannot thank you enough for all your support! I hope you enjoy the story :)

She doesn’t know how she escaped that nightmarish inferno. How she still draws breath. Why her body keeps running despite its condition and despite the fact that she has lost everything.

The village is gone. Everyone she knew is either dead or a monster. She watched her own father growl like a beast and cleave a woman in half, then soon after wail out her name and succumb to the flames swallowing up the building. There is nothing left. There is nothing left for her.

Why? Elena wonders. A trail of blood marks her path through the snow, towards the unknown. Why still fight?

It will be easier to surrender to the agonizing burns, to the open gashes and wood splinters stuck in her skin. It will be far, far simpler to stop pressuring her rattling lungs to provide oxygen and fall into the snow, instead. It looks… peaceful. Soft. Pure.

It will welcome her to a quiet death, she thinks, so she may join her friends and her father.

Her father. The man who had never reached his hand out to help her when she fell –either on the fields or when she tripped over hardships— yet had always been there in his own stubborn, strict way, telling her to pick herself up.

“I didn’t raise no quitter.”

Ah, is that why.

Perhaps part of her feels it owes it to him to try. She did miraculously survive the fiery wreckage she’d initially thought would be her grave. But… the odds just aren’t with her.

Elena is only human. She’s lost too much blood, been through too much punishment. Her vision is growing blurrier by the second, her legs more sluggish. When she steps on grass instead of snow, she believes her mind is now playing tricks on her, too.

Something smells sweet, like wildflowers.

That is the last thing Elena is aware of, before she drops to her knees and blacks out.

When she blinks her eyes open, she is… confused.

She never thought heaven nor hell would have a wooden ceiling. She wouldn’t have guessed pain follows one into the afterlife, either, yet there she is, prone and throbbing with every weak breath on a bed too comfortable to be her own.

Unless…

Unless she’s not dead. Unless, against all odds, she survived a second time only to suffer some more. Elena wants to cry. What cruel game is the universe playing with her? The luck she never had in life is suddenly gracing her in extreme bursts now that she doesn’twant it.

“She’s awakeeee!” an overly excited voice exclaims somewhere around the room. Elena is too dizzy to tell.

“Shh.” A second presence makes itself known, calming the first.

“Who…” Who are you, Elena tries to say, but the words never make it past her dry throat.

Heels tap against the floor, until a black-clad figure comes to peer down at her. Elena expected to see the face of her savior, yet all she sees is a ghost, its visage hidden behind a mourning veil. The image is jarring; it sends her heartbeat skyrocketing, which doesn’t help her condition.

Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord what… Elena wants to tell herself she’s dreaming. It isn’t real, none of this is real—

Until a doll jumps into the edge of her bed and says something she doesn’t hear over the sound of her hoarse scream.

The ghost flinches backwards as the world turns dark once more.

The second time she opens her eyes, hours or days later, the pain has subsided somewhat.

Elena can feel her body, at least. All the wounded parts are carefully wrapped in gauzes and all her burns are covered by a soothing salve. Her lungs no longer hiss when she inhales, so long as she does so slowly, evenly.

That, of course, is not so easy to do when she turns to her left and sees the ghost sitting there, an open book in her lap. The veil is still on, obscuring her features, but Elena takes note of her fingers as they cradle the spine of the tome, long and pale, manicured black.

Appearances aside, there is a certain calm about her that doesn’t feel threatening.

“I… I’m not hallucinating, am I?” she whispers, not trusting her voice to go any higher.

The mystery woman tenses as though her voice has startled her. “…No.” she eventually replies. Her voice is quiet, like the rest of her.

“Did… you save me…?” A single nod is all she gets in return. Her company doesn’t seem very comfortable speaking, but Elena has questions that she needs answered. “Where am I?”

“The Beneviento estate.”

Elena would gasp if she could. I made it that far? And this woman… is she really Donna Beneviento? Her father told her all she needed to know about the four Lords residing at the outskirts of the village. He had also told her to avoid them at all costs.

“Um. I’m Elena—” A cough cuts her off. The sudden motion causes every injury across her body to burn.

“…I know.”

She is too much pain, in that moment, to ask how Donna knows.

In the following days, Elena comes to accept a few things that would have normally made her question her sanity;

The doll is alive. Her name is Angie and she is Donna’s friend. Donna is the adopted daughter of Mother Miranda, who, upon the former’s request, has given her permission for Elena to remain in the mansion. When she asked what would have happened had she denied, the doll only sing-songed that she doesn’t really want to know.

It still plagues her mind, probably because she has far too much time to think and this is the only thing she can focus on, lest she starts crying over and over again.

When Donna comes to change her bandages, it is a relief.

The woman sits at the edge of her bed, at the absolute maximum distance. Elena slowly brings her body to a semi-reclining position to assist. Angie hops on the bed and pulls the covers to the side… and that is when they arrive to a standstill. Donna doesn’t move, Elena doesn’t know what to do.

“Um. May I?” the veiled woman motions with her –admittedly very elegant— hands. It’s… endearing, how she approaches the subject of touching her.

Elena nods and tries to be a good patient for her. Tries being the key word. When she’s not fighting for her life, she is not nearly as brave in the face of pain. Her teeth are gritted as Donna’s cool hands unwrap the gauzes at her right arm, her eyes closed, breath held.

“…Am I hurting you?” Donna asks, quiet as ever.

“No.” Elena forces herself to exhale. “No, you’re… very gentle.”

Donna nods and continues with the same measured movements. Elena doesn’t want to look at her wounds, afraid of what she’ll find there, so she turns to the veiled visage of her companion. She wishes she could see her face. Wonders what she may look like, what flaw she’s trying to hide.

Until a bandage catches on a particularly bad burn and Elena cries out.

Her whole body jumps—

Donna’s hands fly to her shoulders, keeping her steady with surprising strength, yet she steps away the very next second as though she’s been scorched.

Elena bites her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. There you go, making her uncomfortable…

Angie takes over for a while, also quite precise. Elena peeks down to realize she isn’t in as terrible a condition as she may have imagined. Scars will be left, no doubt, but she will probably heal well enough.

Then the last difficult spot comes up. She knows it when Angie warns: “You need to stay still here.”

“No, no wait!” Elena pleads. “I—I can’t.” I can’t, I can’t deal with this again, not again—

But Donna sits back next to her and her mere presence calms her down. “You are very strong, Elena. This is the last one.” she says.

“Hold me down.” Elena requests.

Donna doesn’t seem to like the idea. Still, she slowly brings her hand back over the uninjured part of Elena’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright.” she whispers.

“On three.” Angie says. “One… Two…”

She pulls the bandage on two and Elena would jump high enough to burst through the ceiling if it wasn’t for Donna. When the agony subsidies she realizes she’s sobbing helplessly, clutching at the dollmaker’s sleeves for dear life.

“Shh, I’m sorry, it’s over now. It’s over.” Donna’s slender fingers comb through her unruly hair.

The brunette closes her eyes and lets her head drop back down into her pillow, but she doesn’t let go of the dollmaker right away. She smells like the flowers outside her house,she thinks.

She feels like a safe space, steady, in a world that’s broken and tilted for Elena.

Gradually, Donna talks to her more. Gradually, Elena tests her body’s limits until she is strong enough to walk around the house on her own.

Angie is with her, most of the time, but she knows it’s less a security measure and more one for her safety. Her mental connection to Donna is something Elena cannot grasp nor understand, but she tries to.

The first time she manages to get to the living room, Elena stops and stares at the painting of Donna adorning the wall opposite her.

“…is that her?” she asks Angie.

“Of course!” the doll replies excitedly. “I am so proud of that one, the artist did a great job! Mistress Donna looks splendid, but it is me who steals the show!”

Elena can’t look away from the canvas. Why is she so familiar…? “Is that what she looks like?”

“Well, excluding a scar she wishes to hide. Kind of like my face. We match.” Angie answers, giving her version of a grin.

For the rest of the day, Elena sneaks glances at Donna, then the painting. It isn’t proper, she knows, but she’s curious. And… surely, no scar is enough to justify hiding that cute face from the world?

Weeks pass. Elena has healed well and she owes it all to Donna.

The two of them have grown closer in the time the former’s injuries have forced them together, close enough to have tea in the mornings and brief chats over common interests throughout the day.

When the weather grows a tad warmer, Elena asks the dollmaker to take a stroll with her outside. She sees the decorated graves, of course, but she knows better than to ask. She doesn’t want their time to be poisoned by grief. The scars of losing loved ones run deep, she knows this too well and they never really heal.

The two of them are basking in comfortable silence for a while, until a thought that feels impossible not to be voiced strikes Elena.

“Donna.” she speaks.

“Hm?”

“When I first woke up and I told you my name… you said ‘I know’.”

“…yes.”

“I’m sure we’ve never met before…?” Elena stops and turns to face her companion. Donna mirrors her.

“How certain are you?” she asks. Upon Elena’s obvious confusion, she elaborates; “As a child, I used to visit the village with my father. In one of those visits, some of the kids made fun of my scar. A boy, especially, was saying some very mean things.”

Elena starts to recall one such incident in the blurry images of her childhood.

“You stopped him.” Donna says. Pauses. “…with a punch to the face.”

Elena raises a hand to her mouth, but a quick laugh escapes her anyway. “I did?” A nod. “No way.”

“You did.”

“It couldn’t have been a strong one, though.” Elena giggles.

“I don’t know. Rumor has it he still hasn’t gotten up, to this day…” The little exhale of a chuckle that escapes Donna makes something in Elena bloom and flutter.

She wants nothing more in that moment than to lift the damned veil and see the face of the gentlest, kindest woman she’s ever met.

The winter eventually gives way to spring. The earth heals from the wounds of the cold like Elena has, under Donna’s care.

She no longer has doubts about what she feels, what she wants. It is only a matter of overcoming her fears and nervousness. Only a matter of finding the right timing and the appropriate setting.

Elena has rehearsed the words she needs to say many times in her dreams and thoughts, yet she finds herself tongue-tied and completely lost on what to do in reality. She has asked Donna to walk with her, taken her to where the waterfall calms into a river… and now struggles to summon her voice.

“What is it, Elena?” Donna, ever the sweetheart, asks. “You know you can tell me anything… right?”

“What if…” she hesitantly begins. “What if I can’t tell you? …can I show you, instead?”

“Of course.”

Elena takes a deep breath and chastises herself to woman up. One little step brings her into Donna’s personal space. Her hand raises to the edge of the veil, blue eyes searching for a sign she should stop. The dollmaker is tense, but she hasn’t made a move to back away, nor lower Elena’s hand.

She trusts her.

And that’s all Elena needs to finally, finally remove the barrier separating them for months. The cute girl she defended as a child is a beautiful woman now, looking back at her with gentle, dark eyes. The jagged scar running down the right side of her face does nothing to retract from that beauty.

“You don’t need that.” she breathes. “You never did.”

Donna glances to the side, a hint of color spreading over her pale cheeks. Elena chases her chin with her fingers, then slowly inches closer, making sure the dollmaker has ample time to decide if she wants this, too.

When their lips meet, color blooms behind her shut eyelids, within her chest. Donna’s mouth is as soft and sweet as her personality, Elena discovers. It is a short, chaste kiss but it is also a promise for many more to come.

It is the gratitude Elena will eternally hold for Donna, who found her at the ending of her life and nursed her back to this,

A new beginning.

#Donna x Elena #donna beneviento #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #fanfiction #creative writing #mother miranda #commission #because two cuties make a recipe for success #donna my beloved

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lelitachay · 4 years ago

Text

Frozen fanfiction: Søsken

Summary: An accident in the North mountain forces Elsa to spend several weeks in her brother’s apartment under Anna’s care. And during this time, Anna begins to notice there are peculiar things about Elsa’s life she wished she could understand. Everything starts to make sense after a family reunion.

Modern AU. Kristanna - Frohana - Kristoff & Elsa BrOTP. Chapters 1 to 10 - Here Chapters 11 to 20 - Here Chapter 21 - What to do Chapter 22 - What’s there to lose? Chapter 23 - Seek the truth Chapter 24 - An abrupt end Chapter 25 - A fresh start Chapter 26 - A promising future

Olaf katten

With a tired sigh, Elsa crumbled the piece of paper in her hand and threw it into the bin near the table, where the rest of the paper balls were lying. She had been sitting at her kitchen table for over an hour writing ideas for her business, like Marshall and she had agreed to do; but so far, she had nothing worth sharing.

Sometimes she wondered whether people struggled so much to put their ideas into words, or if it was only her who had trouble with it. She guessed her lack of education could be an obstacle at times. But still, this time she felt there was something else stopping her. She had ideas about her business. Several ideas in fact. But the moment she wrote them down, she began to wonder if they were good enough, or if Marshmallow was going to like them. Her knowledge about businesses was limited and the last thing she wanted was to drag Marshall down with useless suggestions. Part of her suspected he was going to agree with whatever idiotic thing she came up — just for the sake of being nice. And that was the last thing they needed. For that very reason, she was putting extra effort in the way her ideas were worded.

She grabbed a blank piece of paper ready to start again when a knock on her door called her attention. Kristoff and Anna were coming to have dinner that evening, but she was surprised they had arrived so early.

When she opened the door, she was greatly surprised to see her mother standing on the other side. “Mum?” she asked, with a smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Can't a mother simply miss her daughter?” answered Gerda as she stepped into the house. “Why don't you visit me more often?”

Elsa smiled at her mother’s playful tone. Gerda had always enjoyed making Kristoff and her feel guilty for the silliest things, and they knew exactly when she was just trying to trick them. “You changed me for some boring dinner when I did,” Elsa said with a smirk, trying to guilt-trip her just the same. “Is dad with you?”

“No, he had to work. I took the bus.”

“The bus?” Elsa had lost count how many times Kristoff had asked their mother not to take the bus on her own. It was relatively safe, but the two of them didn’t like the idea of their mother walking the trail to the cottage alone. “You should've called me. I would have waited for you at the bus stop. You know the trail here isn't in the best condition.”

“Are you insinuating I can't walk on my own?” Gerda replied, annoyed.

“No, of course not.” Sadly, it was useless to tell her mother what to do, the more they insisted on taking care of her, the more defensive she’d get. Kai was easier to deal with in that sense.

“I may be getting older, but I'm completely independent, thank you very much.” Gerda handed her daughter the purse she had been carrying and walked to the kitchen, ignoring anything else Elsa had to say about the topic.

Elsa laughed at her mother’s childish behaviour and followed her. “You don't need to get offended.”

“I’m simply stating facts," she said matter-of-factly.

“Whatever you say…” There was no point in arguing with her. It was easier to let Kristoff deal with those things. It was a good thing her brother was going to show up later that day. “Kristoff's coming with Anna to have dinner, by the way.”

“I know,” said Gerda with a smile. “He told me to come and join you.”

“Then why didn't you travel with him?”

Gerda shrugged. “He said he was coming after work. I was bored at home and I wanted to spend some time with you.” She sat down at the table and looked around, noticing the mess on top of the table for the first time. “What were you doing, sweetheart? I'm not interrupting your studies, am I?”

“Not at all.” She knew Gerda didn’t mind the mess, but she began picking up everything she had lying around nonetheless. “I was writing down some ideas for next winter season.”

“That's wonderful!” she exclaimed with a clap of her hands. “Kristoff told me you'll give your business another chance.”

“Yes!” She loved the way Gerda always encouraged her to keep working on her own business. She had been the one who originally gave Elsa the idea when she moved to the mountain. “Marshall and I will try to work together.”

Gerda raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean your friend Marshall?”

She nodded and explained, “Westergaard kicked him out for no good reason and he had no idea what to do.”

By Gerda’s expresion, Elsa noticed she wasn’t surprised by what Westergaard had done. More than once Gerda had warned her about not getting involved with Marshall’s boss. She never liked the idea of her asking him for a job.

“That's terrible,” her mother commented as she helped Elsa pick some of her papers. From time to time, Gerda peeked at the ideas written in them. Elsa didn’t really mind; if she was honest, any help her mother — or anyone — was willing to give her was welcomed. What did call Elsa’s attention was the way her mother looked at some of her notes and then smiled at her. “I'd like to meet Marshmallow one day. You seem to really like him.”

“Maybe you already know him,” Elsa said, unaware of her mother’s teasing remark. “He's lived here his whole life. The cottage he lives in belonged to his grandfather.”

“What's his last name, again?”

Elsa was about to answer when a knock on the door interrupted her.

Marshall fidgeted in his place as he waited for the door to open. The box in his hands moved for the third time in the last minute and he let out an exasperated sigh. He was nervous and the little beast inside the box wasn’t helping.

The box moved again and he opened the lid just enough to look inside. “Please, behave,” he said tiredly. A small paw scratched his fingers playfully, running his patience thin. “I said behave. Why won't you listen to me?”

The wooden door in front of him opened suddenly, surprising him, and he put the lid back into place.

Elsa smiled broadly at him from the door and said, “speak of the devil.” She then noticed he was on his own and asked, “were you talking to yourself?”

His cheeks turned red as a beet and he cleared his throat, trying to buy himself some time. The last thing he needed was for Elsa to think he had lost his marbles. “No,” he said. “What was that about the devil?”

“My mother was just telling me she'd like to meet you.”

“Me?” He wasn’t even sure which mother she was talking about, but he thought it was best not to ask. He had already embarrassed himself enough, there was no need to start asking uncomfortable questions.

“Yes. I told her we'll be working together.” Opening the door widely, she invited him into the house. “Come in.”

He gripped the box in his hands tighter and entered the house. He was nervous enough about giving Elsa the gift as it was. Meeting her mother was something he was not ready to do. Something told him the woman was going to read right through him as easily as Anna had done, and that wasn’t good. He wasn’t mentally prepared to explain to Elsa the way he felt. “I was just passing by. I wouldn't like to interrupt–” he tried to excuse himself, but it was too late. Elsa had closed the door behind him.

“Don't be silly,” she said with a lovely smile and then disappeared into the kitchen. “Mum.” He heard her say. “Marshmallow is here.”

To his surprise, the woman who entered the room wasn’t Anna’s mother. So that meant the old woman standing in front of him was part of Elsa's adoptive family.

The woman seemed happy to see him there, so that helped Marshall relax. As far as he could tell, she looked like a sweet woman, someone he could easily get along with.

He wished he weren't holding the box so he could extend his hand and greet the woman properly, but he was not going to risk the little beast jumping out of the box and causing chaos. So, instead of extending his hand, he nodded his head and smiled at her.

“When I said I'd like to meet him,” said the woman as she turned to look at Elsa. “I didn't mean right this moment, Elsa.” She then laughed and turned to him. “Pleased to meet you, dear.”

Her silly joke helped him relax once again. "Pleased to meet you too, Mrs. Bjorgman.

"Bjorgman is my husband's name. Just call me Gerda."

Marshall nodded. He was pleased to know her mother wasn’t a serious nor structured person. It definitely made things easier for him. He looked at her again and realised her features looked familiar, but he couldn't point out where he knew her from.

“Would you like to join us?” asked Elsa, interrupting his train of thought.

“What?”

“I said we were about to have some tea. I could make some coffee for you if you'd like.”

The fact Elsa remembered he didn’t like tea made him ridiculously happy. “I– umm… no. It's okay. I just stopped by to–” He looked at the box in his hands and wondered if it was the right moment to give Elsa the gift. He could easily keep it for another day or two. “It doesn't really matter. It can wait.”

“Don't mind me, dear,” said Gerda, interrupting their conversation. “You two talk all you need. I'll be in the kitchen making tea.” Before Elsa or he could answer, she left them alone.

A cold hand touched his arm, and Marshall was drawn back to Elsa once again. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Of course.” He was a nervous wreck, but he could handle it.

He tried to excuse himself and apologise for interrupting Elsa’s time with her family; but before he had the chance, the little pest inside the box decided to introduce itself. The lid of the box opened, falling to the floor, and the white head of a cat showed up. It meowed once in Marshall’s direction and then it realised Elsa was only a few steps away from them, so it stretched its paw to play with her.

“Whoa! Hey, you,” said Elsa, surprised to see the cat. “I wasn't expecting you.” She stretched her own hand and allowed the cat to grab her finger. “Did you adopt another cat? Won't the Snowgies get jealous?”

“No,” he said, quickly. “I mean yes. But not for me. It's– umm…” He wondered why it was so hard to explain himself. “It’s yours. If you want it, that is.”

She blinked a few times at him. “Mine?”

Marshall avoided Elsa’s confused look and admitted, “that's what I was doing here. You don't have to accept it. I know it's a lot of responsibility…”

Elsa chuckled and said, “hey, it's okay.” She then allowed the cat to smell her hand. “It's just– I don't know what to say. Why?”

“You’re giving me the chance to stay here at the mountain and work with you. I wanted to give you something you'd like as a thank you.” He held the box with one hand and picked the cat with the other. He put the empty box on the floor and held the cat correctly as he explained, “I remembered you saying you'd love a pet of your own. That’s why I adopted him — It's a he, by the way.”

Elsa stopped for a moment before reaching out and petting the cat in his arms. “He's lovely,” she finally said with a smile.

Her grin was sincere, and Marshall let a nervous sigh escape his lips. At least she seemed to like the gift. “Would you like to hold him?”

“Umm… I'm not sure how to–”

“He's really friendly. Here.” While he waited for her to pick the cat, he thought it was funny how nervous she looked, as if the cat was a fragile object she could break if she held it the wrong way.

“Hi,” said Elsa with a soft voice once the cat was in her arms. “What's your name, little fella?”

“He hasn’t got a name yet,” Marshall explained. “He's been living with me for a week, but I wanted you to name him.”

“He's too cute. I'll need to find a fitting name.”

The cat bit and licked her fingers and then tried to play with her hair, making Elsa laugh. Her smile became impossibly bigger and Marshall beamed back at her. “Do you like him?”

“Yes! Thank you so much, Marshmallow.” All the nervousness he had felt disappeared when he noticed her excitement.

“I've already taken him to the vet,” Marshall said as he got closer to them and began scratching the cat’s ears. The little pest — as he liked to call him — had caused so much trouble in his house the previous days, he found it strange to see him so calm in Elsa’s arms.

“Are you sure you don't want to stay?” asked Elsa, making him aware of the fact Elsa’s mother was still waiting for them in the kitchen. “We're having dinner later tonight.”

He knew she was trying to convince him to stay. She knew food was his weakness. But he wasn’t ready to share a family meal. Deep down he knew it was ridiculous to be nervous about meeting her family but he couldn't help it. “Maybe some other time. I really need to get going.”

“Okay…”

He smiled at Elsa once again before cupping the cat’s face and forcing it to look at him. “Don't be a pest and behave, alright?” he told the cat before he leaned down and gave the animal a kiss on top of its head.

Right at that moment, Gerda came into the room and exclaimed, “oh, would you look at that! Where did he come from?”

Choosing it was best to leave before Gerda started asking questions, Marshall bid his goodbyes. “Okay, I'd better go. Gerda,” he said, turning to the old woman in the room. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too, dear.”

He walked towards the door, but before he could leave Elsa stopped him.

“Come visit us one of these days,” she said with a tender smile that disarmed him completely.

“You can count on that.” He wasn’t going to admit at loud that he was hoping the cat could be another excuse for him to visit Elsa more often.

After the door closed behind the tall man, Gerda was surprised to see Elsa stay where she was, looking longingly at the wooden door with a smile on her face.

More than once Gerda had heard Kristoff and Anna talk about Elsa and Marshall’s relationship, but never had she imagined Anna’s claims were so close to the truth. She even remembered taking sides with her son once, saying it was improbable Elsa felt something for the mountaineer. But now that she got to see them together, she wasn’t sure she had taken the right side. She had to admit she was curious to know the way her daughter truly felt about the man.

“Will you take care of his cat?” asked Gerda, unsure of what to say without sounding too nosy.

“No,” Elsa said, as she turned around to look at her mother. “He adopted it for me. Isn't he adorable?”

Gerda couldn’t tell if she was talking about the cat or her friend being adorable, but she thought it was best not to think too much about it. She was more surprised to see her daughter so excited about having a pet. She still remembered how nervous Elsa had been around Sven at the beginning, always fearing she might hurt the dog. “Are you up for it? You used to be apprehensive about pets.”

“I've got to admit I'm quite nervous,” Elsa said sincerely. “But Marshmallow knows I've wanted a cat for a long time. I have no excuse not to accept it now. And look at him, it’s hard to say no.”

Gerda chuckled as she looked at the cat in Elsa’s arms. It truly was hard to say no to a cat like him. Beautiful white fur covered his body, except for his paws and ears where the fur was a dark brown colour. He looked like a really friendly animal and the way he tried to play with everything around him made him even more adorable.

“Sven loves you,” said Gerda as she walked towards her daughter. “I don't see why this little guy wouldn't love you too. You shouldn’t be nervous.”

“Do you think he minds my cold hands?”

It was painful for Gerda to see Elsa so concerned about her powers, even when she had no reason to be. The cat seemed more interested in attacking her sleeve than anything else. “He looks comfortable if you ask me. I wouldn’t say he minds.”

Luckily, Gerda's answer seemed to help Elsa control her insecurities. She made sure she was holding the cat correctly before asking, “Is tea ready?”

“Mmm?" Still distracted by the cat, Gerda took a moment to understand what Elsa was talking about. "Oh, yes, it is. I came to tell you that… It's a shame your friend couldn’t stay a little bit longer.”

"Marshmallow's like that. He comes and goes all the time. You'll get to talk to him some other time."

Noticing the cat was getting tired of being held, Elsa picked the box Marshall had brought with him and put a cushion inside to make a bed for the cat. It didn't take long for the animal to find the spot comfortable and fall asleep.

Once the new member of the family was comfortably sleeping in the box, Gerda went into the kitchen to serve their tea. Elsa followed her and finished picking up her things.

"I can't believe he took the trouble to find a cat for me," said Elsa after they had finished their tasks and they were sitting down, enjoying their tea.

Gerda noticed Elsa was still very much distracted by the gift Marshall had given her. And if she was honest, Gerda found the whole situation endearing.

When Kai and she had adopted Elsa, they knew things were going to be different for her. Her life wasn’t going to be exactly like Kristoff’s. But, even if at the beginning that had proved to be true. Little by little Elsa was developing the social skills she hadn’t had the chance to develop during her childhood.

Every year, Gerda noticed the way Elsa tried to improve and become part of society, as if her powers weren’t there. The young woman still struggled a lot with them, and every mistake she made was a huge step back in her learning process. However, that year Elsa had had the chance to spend her time with people outside the family and that had helped her grow a lot. Anna and Marshall had, in their own special way, helped her overcome her mistakes and learn from them in a way that was completely different. Both of them got her out of her comfort zone, forcing her to face new challenges, and learn how to interact in the real world.

Marshall, in particular, was Elsa’s best and worst companion. He was exactly what Elsa needed to overcome her fears and learn to deal with her powers and a healthy social life. The fact he didn’t know about her powers made it a bigger challenge; but still, she kept trying and learning with him.

All in all, Gerda was happy Elsa had found a friend outside the family. The only thing she worried about was how he was going to react the day Elsa finally decided to come clean about who she was and what she could do. That made the whole situation worrisome, especially if Elsa was developing feelings for her friend without noticing.

The last thing Gerda wanted was to ask inappropriate questions about her daughter’s life, Elsa was an independent adult after all; but if she could spare her daughter future pain and heartache by doing so, then she was willing to do it.

“May I ask you something, dear…” Gerda said, cautiously.

Elsa chuckled, surprised Gerda was asking for permission when she usually just said whatever was in her mind. “Sure. Anything.”

“Do you love him?”

Elsa stopped for a moment to think about her answer. “Not right now. But I'm sure I'll love him soon enough. He's perfect, don't you think?”

Gerda gaped at her daughter’s answer. Never, in a million years, she’d have expected Elsa to be so straight forward about her feelings.

“What?” asked Elsa, not understanding her mother’s astonishment.

“I wasn't expecting such an honest answer.”

“What?” repeated Elsa.

“What are you talking about?” Gerda said, hoping they were talking about the same thing.

“The cat.” Elsa looked at her mother and laughed. “What are you talking about?”

If Elsa hadn’t been her daughter, Gerda was sure she would have thrown something at her. Only Elsa could think she was asking about her feelings for a cat. “I was clearly asking about Marshall.”

“Oh…” exclaimed Elsa when she realised what her mother had been asking. “No! I mean, it's not that I don't– But he's not–” she struggled to explain herself. “Stop asking weird questions.”

Gerda’s frustration disappeared in an instant when she noticed Elsa's embarrassment. She didn’t want to make fun of her, but she had to laugh at Elsa’s mortified expression. “It's a completely normal question, dear,” Gerda explained in between chuckles.

“Why do you ask?” Elsa asked, trying to avoid the original question.

“You used to call him almost every day when you were living with your brother. You seem genuinely happy whenever he's around. Not to mention you tried to convince Anna and me you weren't even friends, when it is clear you spend a lot of time together…”

“That has nothing to do with-”

“I'm starting to think Anna may have been right all those months ago," Gerda continued with a smirk. "Maybe you don't consider him your friend because you wish for him to be more than that.” Gerda knew she was putting Elsa in an uncomfortable situation, but sometimes that was exactly what she needed to understand things around her.

“You're being ridiculous.” Elsa didn’t look at her mother, showing how embarrassing the conversation was for her. "I do consider him my friend. I wasn’t sure he considered me his at the time, that's all.”

“Are you sure you don’t feel something for him?” Noticing her daughter’s unamused expression, she clarified, “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, Elsa. I’m just asking…”

Still not meeting her gaze, Elsa said, “You know I don't date.”

Gerda smiled tenderly at her. “Dating and having feelings for someone are two different things.”

“You and Anna need to stop spending time together,” she murmured.

Gerda tried to cover the smile that drew on her face. "You haven't answered my question, dear.

"There's nothing between Marshall and me."

Maybe she was reading too much into it, but Elsa's avoidance was in itself a confirmation of some sort. Maybe it was too soon for Elsa to realise, but there was something there.

Of course, there existed the possibility Gerda was mistaken and Elsa only felt admiration or respect for her friend, but it was best for her to keep an eye open. Especially if Elsa ever decided to tell her friend about her powers.

Regardless, Gerda thought it was fun to push the conversation a little bit further. "That wasn't the question."

Elsa let an exasperated sigh out, but before she could answer, a scream coming from the living room stopped her.

One of the things Kristoff loved the most about his girlfriend was her energy. The girl could spend the whole day studying or working, and she still had enough energy left in the evening to do something fun or entertaining. It was something he had always admired. But there were days when he felt Anna's overenthusiasm was too much, even for him. That evening in particular, was one of those days.

"Can you please slow down?" asked Kristoff as he tried to catch up with Anna, who kept walking in front of him at a fast pace.

"I can't," she said, turning around to look at him. "I'm too excited!"

"I know you're excited about the letter and whatever it is your mother sent Elsa." Anna had talked about a special gift on their way to the mountain and he knew she couldn't wait to give it to Elsa; but still, there was no need to walk the trail at such speed. "But we'll get there eventually. Slow down."

"Stop being so dramatic," complained Anna. "You can easily walk faster than me."

"You haven't been moving ice bags all day."

Anna stopped just enough for Kristoff to catch up with her, and then began walking at a fast pace once again. "You're an old man trapped in a young man's body."

"A handsome man's body."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Hurry up!"

When they got to Elsa's cottage, Anna climbed the steps two at a time and went straight to the door, not stopping to knock. Kristoff tried to stop and warn her about entering the house unannounced. "Knock on the door, Anna. The last few times I entered her house without knocking she almost killed me."

She shrugged, not giving it much thought. "She knows we are coming."

"Fine. Don't listen to me, but don't–" Before he finished his idea, Anna entered the house ignoring him altogether. "Why do I even bother?" Kristoff wondered out loud.

Kristoff got to the door, but stopped when he noticed Sven smelling the front steps. Something was definitely calling the dog’s attention. Probably a squirrel or something, Kristoff thought to himself as he returned where Sven had stopped. He pulled from his collar to take him into the house. The last thing he needed was for Sven to get lost, trying to chase wild animals in the forest.

Putting up some resistance, Sven didn't obbey Kristoff and tried to continue smelling the front steps and everything around them.

"Sven, what's gotten into you? Come on."

It took a few tries for Kristoff to finally get Sven to move and get into the house. When he did enter, he thought it was strange to find Anna standing by the door.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were in a hurry."

Anna didn't answer. Instead, she put her hand on top of his arm to call his attention and pointed towards a box in the living room.

"What?" he asked, not understanding what he was supposed to look at.

"That box just moved."

"Don't be ridic–" he tried to say, but the box Anna was pointing at moved at that exact same time. "What the hell is in there?"

"Do you think it's a rat?" Anna whispered. "Ugh! Do something!"

"It must be…" Kristoff was glad he was still holding Sven. He knew his dog was going to run straight to the rat as soon as he noticed its presence, and that would make catching the rat even more difficult.

He looked around and tried to find something heavy enough he could use to kill the rat, or at least knock it out.

The box moved once again, falling to the floor, startling them both. "Grab the box," he instructed Anna as he walked to the fireplace to grab a log.

"I don't want to!"

"Just do it. We can't let it escape."

Anna walked to the box carefully, trying her best not to startle the animal inside. When she got close enough, she jumped over it and held the box against the ground. She could feel the animal moving inside, and shivers ran down her spine.

"Ew! It's still inside!" she cried in disgust.

"Just held it there!" Kristoff yelled back as he tried to hold Sven back.

At that moment, Elsa and Gerda entered the living room in a hurry.

"What the hell is going on?!" asked Elsa, looking at Kristoff angrily. Kristoff knew he was a dead man for entering the cottage unannounced once again.

"There's a giant rat in there!" He pointed to the box Anna was holding with disgust.

"Rat?"

He walked towards Anna and held his weapon high in the air. "I've got a log. Where is it?"

"No!" yelled, Elsa, standing in front of Kristoff. "That's not a rat! Give me that." She took the log from his hand to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. "Are you crazy? It's just a cat!"

Anna sighed, relaxing and letting the box go. "That's a relief."

The cat inside the box saw its opportunity the moment Anna let go of the box and escaped, running towards Elsa and Kristoff. To the animal's bad luck, Sven was in that direction too.

Elsa and Kristoff both realised what could happen if the cat got close to Sven, so they yelled at Sven not to do anything.

Their cries only startled the cat, making it run behind the couch. They had the opposite effect on Sven too, who started barking at the cat and pulling from Kristoff's hold.

"Kristoff, stop Sven, will you?" said Elsa while she tried to find the cat and put a stop to that chaos.

"I'm on it!"

"Sven, stop," said Anna in a serious tone, calming the dog in an instant.

Brother and sister looked at each other. Not once in all their years taking care of Sven had they been able to do something like that. "How did you do that?" asked Kristoff, baffled.

Anna ignored his question and walked where Elsa was. She had already found the cat and she held it in her arms. "Is the cat okay?"

"He's fine," she answered with a nod. "I think our screams frightened him more than Sven did."

Kristoff kneeled down and scratched Sven's ears while he continued to hold him. He wasn't barking nor trying to attack the cat, but he didn't want to risk it. "When did you adopt a cat?"

"Marshmallow gave it to me."

"He gave you one of his cats?" He couldn't believe Marshall had actually gotten rid of one of the Snowgies. More than once he had explained they were part of his family, and he wasn't planning on letting any of them go.

"He'd never separate the Snowgies," said Elsa. "He adopted this cat for me."

Kristoff looked at her and then at the cat in her arms. He knew Elsa liked cats, even more than dogs – with the exception of Sven, of course. But still, she had always felt insecure about adopting one herself. Marshall showing up with a cat put Elsa in a compromise for sure. "Pets are never a good gift."

"Unless you want one." Anna gave him a warning look that clearly said she wasn't going to let him ruin Elsa's happiness.

Ignoring the couple's silent conversation, Elsa explained why she wasn't surprised he had chosen a cat as a gift. "We've talked about pets before. He knows I love cats."

As if on cue, Sven whined at Elsa and she laughed at the poor animal. "No offense, Sven."

"What are you going to do with it?" Kristoff asked, still curious about the fact his sister was so comfortable with the animal in her arms.

"What do you mean what I'm going to do?" She held the cat closer, proving she didn't want to let him go. "I'm going to keep him."

Getting closer, Anna moved her fingers in the air for the cat to play with. "He's really cute," she said with a smile as she watched him try to catch her fingers. "What's his name?"

"I don't know. Marshmallow gave it to me half an hour ago. I haven't come up with a name yet."

"Maybe you could think of something you like and name him after that," suggested Gerda. It was clear the cat was going to stay, the sooner they found a fitting name, the better.

"You mean like… food?"

"Not everything needs to be about food, Kristoff." Anna rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. "Oh, oh!" she exclaimed, calling everyone's attention. "I've got the perfect name for him right here."

Elsa gave Kristoff a curious look, but this time he couldn't help her. He was as confused as she was.

"Ta-da!" Anna announced as she took a book out of her backpack.

From where Kristoff was standing he couldn't see the cover, but Elsa's incredulous expression told him it was something she recognised perfectly well. No matter how much he wanted to ask what the book was about, Elsa's watery eyes stopped him.

He watched his sister sit down on the couch, with the cat still in her arms, and look at Anna in disbelief. "Is that? How- Where did you get that?"

Anna showed her sister a huge smile and handed her the book. "A family friend owns a bookshop. She helped mum find it." She waited for Elsa to let the cat go and grab the book before she asked, "is this the book you loved so much as a kid?"

"Once upon a snowman…" Elsa said as she read the title of the book out loud. "I can't believe it."

Finally understanding which book it was, Kristoff looked where his mother was standing. Gerda seemed as surprised as he was, but she was a lot more confused as to why Anna was giving Elsa the book in the first place. That's when he realised she didn't know Elsa and her biological parents were writing to each other.

"So?" Anna asked, still waiting for the confirmation her mother had found the right book.

"Yes," answered Elsa, still not believing she was holding her favourite book once again. "This is it. This is the book. Anna this is– I don't know what to say." Finally taking her eyes away from the book, Elsa looked at Anna with the biggest smile Kristoff had ever seen and opened her arms to give Anna a hug.

Anna said as she sat by Elsa's side and accepted her hug.

"Thank you. This means a lot to me. More than you can imagine."

"You should be thanking mum and dad," said Anna, still hugging her sister. "He came up with the idea, and mum spent a long time in Helga's deposit looking for it…” She let go and looked inside her bag for a second time until she found two letters. “They send these letters too."

Kristoff smiled while he looked at Anna and Elsa talking about the book. It was nice to see his sister so happy. Yet, he couldn't help but feel bad for Gerda. He knew how many hours she had spent looking for that book. How many times she had asked him about it and what he remembered, so they could try to find it. Sadly, she'd never been able to find it.

Once again he looked where his mother was standing, hoping to meet her gaze, but to his consternation, she wasn’t in the room anymore. Deep down he knew there was a reason behind his mother’s sudden disappearance, and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Elsa,” he said, calling his sister’s attention. “Can you take care of Sven for a moment? Maybe introduce him to your cat so they can be in the same room together?”

Surprised by the sudden request, Elsa handed Anna the book and walked to where he was standing to hold Sven by his collar. “Sure. I have to do it sooner or later,” Elsa agreed. “Would you help me Anna?”

“Of course!”

Kristoff nodded at his girlfriend and left the dog in Elsa’s hands. He knew Sven was going to listen to both of them.

It took a while for Anna and Elsa to get Sven and the cat to meet each other. Either the cat kept moving, trying to get away from the dog; or Sven tried to bite the cat’s tail.

Elsa had to keep a tight hold on Sven’s collar whenever Anna got close to them with the cat in her arms; but after several tries, both animals understood they had to trust the girls and stop resisting. They looked and sniffed at each other for some time, until the cat understood there was no real risk and decided to start playing with Sven’s tail.

Elsa was apprehensive about letting Sven go at first, but after a few minutes, she understood it was no longer in Sven’s plans to hurt the cat.

Cat and dog began to play, finally allowing the sisters to sit on the couch once again. As soon as Elsa was sitting, she picked up the book, a smile drawing on her face as soon as she did.

“You really are happy about the gift, aren’t you?” asked Anna.

She traced the cover with her finger, copying the shape of the snowman drawn on it. “I drew this snowman more times than I can count.”

“Have you still got the copy that you made?” She seemed eager to see Elsa’s work.

“Weselton took it from me.” Elsa looked down at the book in her hands, thinking about that day. He had entered her room and just ripped the old paper sheets off her hands. “I guess he must have thrown it away.”

Disgusted by what she was hearing, Anna asked, “Why would he do that?”

Elsa didn’t feel like sharing too much about it. That copy had been the only thing remotely similar to a toy she had had back then. “He didn't want me doing anything except using my powers whenever he told me to. Playing with a piece of paper reminded him too much of the fact I was a kid, I guess.”

Anna tightened her fist until it turned white. “That bastard.”

Elsa looked at Anna and offered a sad smile. The last thing she wanted was for Anna to make a fuss about something that had happened over twelve years before. “There’s no point in getting mad about it now.”

Anna found her gaze and opened her mouth to offer some comforting words, but Elsa stopped her. “Tell Agdar and Idunn I really like the gift.”

“I will…”

Elsa knew Anna was still worried about what she had shared with her, so she tried to change the topic of conversation. “You said you had the perfect name for the cat… What did you mean by that?”

“Oh, yeah! I almost forgot,” she answered, taking the book from Elsa’s hands. “Look, the name of the main character of the book is Olaf. Don’t you think it’s a fitting name?”

“Olaf?” said Elsa as she looked at the cat playing with Sven.

Anna opened the book and pointed to a picture in particular where the snowman from the story could be seen. “He kinda looks like him.”

“The cat?”

“Yes!” She got up and picked the cat with one arm as she showed the book with the other. “He's white and he's got brown paws. They look like Olaf’s arms, see?”

“I see what you mean…” said Elsa, looking at the cat and the picture from the book at the same time.

“Besides, he looks like he likes warm hugs too, don’t you Olaf?” Anna hugged the cat close to her face and he rubbed his head against hers.

“Olaf…” Elsa tried the name at loud. “I like it.”

“Wait,” said Anna, all of a sudden, giving Elsa the cat. “I've got an idea. I'm sure I had it here somewhere…” The girl rummaged in her backpack once again until she found a bright orange handkerchief. “I never use this. I’m sure it’ll suit him.”

She got close to Elsa and Olaf, and tied the piece of cloth around his neck. “See? It's perfect.”

The orange piece of cloth fit perfectly around his neck and it was a great contrast with his fur. “What do you think, Sven?” Elsa asked when she noticed the dog was getting jealous of all the attention Olaf was getting.

The dog barked a few times and tried to jump on Elsa, making her regret asking. “Okay, easy! Careful, Sven.”

A new chapter! And I didn’t take three months to update this time. Yay, me! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter even though nothing extraordinary happens. Well, Elsa gets a cat, which for her is a big deal. But you know what I mean… I had Olaf’s appearance planned for a really long time, but I kept postponing it for one reason or the other. I hope you like the role I gave Olaf in this story.

Anyway, let me know what you think of this chapter and the characters' interactions. I think it’s pretty obvious by now how crazy Marshall is about Elsa, but well, Elsa keeps living in another dimension and she doesn’t notice. Only time will tell if she realises or not. She’s got other things in her mind right now, we can’t blame her.

As always, I’m really grateful for all your amazing reviews and all the love this story gets. I read every single review and treasure them a lot. I’ll get back to all of you who took the time to leave a review, I promise. And those who leave reviews as guests, I’m sorry I can’t reply, but you rest assured I love your reviews too!

Tagging time: @swimmingnewsie @melody-fox @kristoffxannafanatic @kristannafictionals @neptrabbit @skneez @ellacarter13 @wondering-in-life @who-i-am-8 @fanfictionrecommendations-com @815-allisnotlost @khartxo @joannevixxon @betweenthedreams @burbobah @rileysfs @earlvessalius @blood-jewel @disneydreamer8901 @the-sky-is-awake @disneyfan103 @the-magic-one-is-you @anamaria8garcia @welovefrozenfanfiction @bigfrozenfan-archive @bigfrozenfan-archive @frozen-snips @deisymendoza @zackhaikal123 @cornstarch @roostercrowedatmidnight @showurselfelsa @fuzzyelsalikeiduna @when-dawn-arrivess @drafteedragon @snowycrocus @tare8chan @localarendellian @wabitham @roostercrowedatmidnight @just-your-local-history-nerd@dontrunintofirexoxo @daphmckinnon @poketin @bruni-is-love @luna-and-mars @anotherpersondrawing @lovelucywilde @shimmeringsunsets @aries1708 @wabitham @agentphilindaisy @anotherpersondrawing @spkfrozen @jimmi-arts @snowmanmelting @dovahkiinkillua

Read you soon!

#Frozen #Frozen fanfic #Frozen fanfiction #frozen modern au #Elsa #Anna #Kristoff #Gerda #Olaf #Iduna #agnaar #Kai #Marshall #sosken #søsken #frohana #kristanna #elsa & kristoff BroTP #chapter 27

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proudfreakmetarusonikku · 3 years ago

Note

Dream hcs?

Ahaha oh boy do I. Heads up though, there’s some dark stuff in here. Most of the tws are obvious relating to Dream, but there’s also a very brief reference to implied rape in bullet points 6 and 8.

Dream is a god of no particular domain, nor interest in gaining one. He’s absolutely no interest in gaining power in the godly plane, instead preferring to get power in the mortal realm. As such, his only real Godly power is agelessness

He’s one of the oldest beings on the server, vaguely around the age of Philza Minecraft (so several billions of years old).

He, DreamXD, and Drista are “siblings”- gods can’t have siblings since they spawn from nothing, but they see each other as siblings, Drista and DreamXD choose to appear like Dream, and the three of them often share power, information, ect. when they can.

Very soon after he and his siblings spawned, when they barely had any power at all, they were captured by slavers who wanted the prestige of having actual Gods under their heel.

Dream basically immediately agreed to do whatever if he could keep Drista and DreamXD safe. Later on in life, he’d call it pragmatic. Anyone else would say it was anything but.

Dream ended up on display as a caged god, for passerby’s to gawp at and be impressed by. Most only did that. Once guards found out he wouldn’t fight back, terrified for the consequences for his siblings… well, let’s just say that the prison isn’t Dream's first experience with torture.

DreamXD and Drista were also kept in captivity too, in more comfortable conditions and not harmed at all, as leverage. They were still shown off though.

Dream was kept like this for long enough to see generations grow (which he absolutely did- it’s a way to keep the time bored out of your mind. He tried to ignore the ones who resembled him too much). Oh, he could have escaped, but he’d go through anything for kin, and he couldn’t risk them getting hurt.

Of course, when the city was involved with a severe war and burnt down around him, he quickly got the hell out of dodge, brother and sister in hand.

While Drista and DreamXD went off to found cults and religions of their own, Dream solely looked for power in the mortal realm. Be it as a ruler, or something behind the scenes, he didn’t care. He just wanted- needed- power. He’d learnt that without it all that’s assured is pain.

Dream was petrified of anyone learning what he was for a while, constantly switching identities and going into hiding whenever he thought anyone figured out that he was a god. Even after his paranoia subsided somewhat, he retained this habit, and has gone through millions of different identities.

Dream's mask is part of his body- though he can summon and desummon it, it’s made of flesh and bone and hurts to break. He's taken his mask off around only his siblings, and eventually Tommy.

Dream met Techno when Techno was still young, barely even a champion of the Blood God. Both would claim the other started the fight, and both would claim they were the one who won. What they’re both clear on is that they enjoyed it, and they quickly became rivals, usually friendly, sometimes not depending on the war being fought on that day.

It was within the last few hundred years that Dream met BadBoyHalo and Skeppy. Dream found them interesting and stuck around, and eventually developed a friendship, while BadBoyHalo taught Dream the concept of morality (though he never quite grasped it.)

Dream was pretty much considered an adoptive member of the family, and when BadBoyHalo brought back and officially adopted an infant dragon-hybrid and blaze-hybrid, they grew up basically seeing Dream as a brother.

Dream met George in an assassination attempt gone terribly wrong. Not that George was an incompetent assassin- it’s just he didn’t have the advantage of thousands of years avoiding assassination Dream had. He thought the strange human was interesting, and spared his life in exchange for his friendship.

It was not long after this that the idea of the manhunts started. Dream was always reckless, and he and George sparring quickly turned into fighting to the (non-canon) death turned to George hunting Dream down for sport and Dream killing him until he gave up. As Sapnap grew up and his blaze instincts to set things ablaze started, he joined in on the bizarre game, and then news started to spread about the crazy fucker who spends every weekend getting hunted down for sport by his friends.

This was when the rules solidified- Dream would find an untouched server, and look to find the closest ender portal (since the end can’t be entered in Dream SMP, he couldn’t kill the dragon as an end state). If the hunters killed him before, they won. It was a safe, not harmful way to fuel his desire for power- if he had the upper hand he had the power to wipe the floor with everyone else, and even if he wasn’t he had the complete power to end the game the second it stopped being fun.

Dream started filming them, just for fun, and they quickly blew up- sure, it was non-canon deaths, but without the safety measures set up in Hypixel, any death that was too narratively satisfying could become canon.

Quickly, Dream found himself being referred to as “Dream, from the manhunts,” and he loved it. He thrived on the attention he got. He took advantage of this, and became a fairly well known and popular celebrity for his Manhunt sport. A few brave souls would even try the game themselves.

Dream met Antfrost during a game of Manhunt, after BadBoyHalo had joined their games. Dream was hiding in the middle of the forest, when he spotted a strange, two tailed cat, and he only had more questions when the cat turned into a humanoid form and immediately asked for autographs. Turns out the strange nekomata was a skilled magician and a huge fan of the Manhunts. The game immediately stopped for conversation, and Dream found him quite interesting indeed.

Dream found the server that would become the Dream SMP during one of his Manhunts. He didn’t think much of it at the time, but his mind drifted back to it a few times, and he decided to move there. After all, as the benevolent dictator of a small server he could have ultimate power and not hurt anyone (not that he cared much if he hurt anyone, but BadBoyHalo probably wouldn’t like it if he did it without provocation and BadBoyHalo was interesting enough Dream would rather not push him away).

Dream's obsession with Tommy started pretty much as soon as the disc wars did, and honestly it was a huge motivator for all his actions following.

When Dream said he felt villainised in his letter to Tommy in that one line c!Dream apologists obsess over for some reason, he was telling the truth. Why, he was just having fun! If everyone else cared about being ruthlessly slaughtered, well, they’re just spoilsports.

Everyone on the server was personally invited by Dream with a letter (even those after he went in prison- he handed Ranboo the letters and he delivered them). He handpicked who would be the most interesting people to befriend/toy with. The members who are on the server who weren’t are Tubbo (who he let stay because he knew Tommy would find a way to leave if Tubbo was kicked out), JSchlatt initially (who was kicked out until Tommy convinced Dream to let him back in, Ranboo (who Dream let stay because of their very obvious family resemblance), and Slimecicle (who Dream is unaware of the existence of).

Even in the beginning, Dream specifically built the protections of the server to be more focused on keeping everyone in than keeping out intruders- after all, Dream had ways of removing any wanderer and killing any threat. It’s easy to leave the server to visit elsewhere, but if you try and stay out, you’ll eventually just wake up in your bed in the server. Dream pretends it was an error he doesn’t know how to

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp headcanons #dsmp headcanons #c!dream #c!dream headcanons #tw implied torture #tw implied rape #tw captivity #tw possessive behaviour

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dragonsfictavern · 4 years ago

Text

Helping Hands

Five x Unrelated Female

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.8K

𝗮/𝗻: So with the new season of TUA having come out today, I thought it would be the perfect time to post a little oneshot I thought of. This would be a little before Five got himself stuck in the future. Background information is the reader was born on the same day as the academy kids and she has her own powers. But her family didn’t give her up for adoption. She was raised in an abusive home and often went to the academy for solace. She was in the academy and went on their missions. She just wasn’t adopted by Reginald. Reginald often called her Number 8 or The Extra. Reader is closest to Five, Klaus, and Vanya.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: Experiencing, signs, and talking about child abuse.

My stomach aches with every step I take. My hand laid flat against it, as if that would ease the pain. There was a gash across my hairline, my lip was split and blood dried across my chin and throat. It hurt to breathe too deeply and every step I took made me believe as though his hands were personally gripping my ribs and squeezing tightly. The last of my injuries consisted of a throb in my ankle.

I turned the corner, staying along the side of the walk as to not get knocked by the busying New Yorkers. I grip at their gate and limp along, with the gates help, until I reach the Hargreeves main gate. I open it and step up the stairs.

“Ah, dammit,” I grit out. The pain in my ribs increases with each step. My stomach churns and I fear I may vomit. I stumble up and lean against the side of the wall.

I lift up my fist to knock as loudly as I was physically able. I wait… and wait. No one answers. I bang my fist on the door again.

“Will someone answer that door?!” I hear the voice of Reginald Hargreeves snap from inside the home. I knock again; with a little less power than before. My breath quickened and I fought off a groan. “Will someone get the damn door?! Grace! Pogo! Anybody!” He shouted once again.

There was silence. Or at least I couldn’t hear anything. I waited patiently. I knew not to bug Mr. Hargreeves too much. If he couldn’t help, I would just go to the free clinic. Maybe they would be able to help. I wasn’t sure if they were able to help me without an adult present though… I was only thirteen. But I couldn’t go back there.

My mind was so overwhelmed with thoughts of what alternatives I could possibly go to that I didn’t hear Mr. Hargreeves himself open the door. I jump, finally noticing that he was standing there, looking at me with his beady eyes.

“Number 8!” He exclaimed, seeming as surprised as he was able. “What are you doing here? There is no mission, today,” he states. I exhale sharply, looking down at my shoes.

“I-I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know where else to go,” I say timidly. I don’t dare look back up at him. I feared too greatly that he was going to send me away. He doesn’t say anything, nor do I. The tension in the air was thick and yet I wasn’t sure what to make of it. So I finally look up.

Mr. Hargreeves eyes were already looking at my face. He looked with an understanding eye as he took in my injuries. This was not the first time I had shown up at the door on non-mission days in this type of condition. I also suspected that this wouldn’t be the last. His gaze moved all the way down to my swelling ankle. When he finished assessing the damage, he clicked his tongue and nodded.

“Well then, we better get you inside and get those checked on,” he stated. He stepped back and opened the door wider for me. I peered into the foyer and saw a glimpse of Vanya peeking her head from the living room. “Come now, we haven’t got all day,” he snaps. I exhale, looking down at my ankle. I wasn’t sure I could walk on it for much longer.

“Uh, sir?” I look from my ankle to him and down again. He realizes the issue and thinks for a moment, his lips pursed.

“Number Five!” Mr. Hargreeves shouts.

In an instant, a circle of blue appears out of thin air and Five steps out of it. His eyes instantly connect to mine. I smile brightly, instinctively standing up straighter and forgetting the ankle. I wince and stumble back again the wall around the door. Five’s eyes widen. He shoots from out of the house and is carefully guiding my left arm around his shoulder. I hop, finding my footing and finding myself very close to him. I pray my cheeks don’t flush.

“It happened again?” Five asked, jaw clenched tightly as he looked in my eyes— purposely avoiding the cuts and bruises.

“Yes,” I admit softly. I looked back into his eyes and I was entranced. We were dangerously close, so close I could see every speck of gold in his green eyes.

I had probably been in… like, with Five ever since I knew what liking a boy meant. Once I got over the fact that they too had cooties, the fact that cooties were not a thing, and the fact that I found boys— specifically Five, very attractive. I hadn’t admitted them and I didn’t plan on it. We were young and had all the time in the world. What’s the rush?

“Come on, come on! We cannot keep this door open. Come in, the two of you. Five, help her down to the infirmary,” Mr. Hargreeves demands, turning around and walking deeper into the house. Five doesn’t move. He keeps staring at me.

“I hate this keeps happening,” he grits out. I push myself closer to him and squeeze my arm in an awkwardly done hug.

“Me too..” i trail off. Five sighs deeply. “Now help me out, here. I’m feelin’ kinda rough,” I tease. What was meant to be a joke, turned out to be a mistake. Five shakes his head, jaw locked. But he starts to move. He slides an arm around my waist and helps me through the threshold.

When we step in, I look up, surprised, to see Mr. Hargreeves had actually waited. He had seen the encounter. That got my cheeks to flush. I duck my head as we start following him through the house. As we pass the living room, I once again catch Vanya peeking out at me with worry in her eyes.

“Number 7! Go back to your lessons. This is a private matter!” Mr. Hargreeves ordered. Vanya frowned, looking away from me and walking back to her lessons. Five and I glance at each other with a look of regret.

We hated how Vanya was treated just because she didn’t have any powers. I open my mouth to argue and ask her to help when Five squeezes my hip. My jaw snaps shut as I inhale sharply. I tense in his hold before I look over to him.

“Let it go,” he whispers in my ear. That was not helping me right now. I turn my head to him, causing our faces to be painstakingly close. Also not helping.

“But Five…”

“Not a fight fit for today,” he says lowly, finally acknowledging the cuts and bruises on my face. I nod and let it go. For now.

We both continue to follow Mr. Hargreeves when suddenly Klaus comes dancing in, a Walkman in his hands and headphones over his ears. I giggle when Mr. Hargreeves stops abruptly. Five sighs and rearranges his hold on me, pulling me right against his side in the process.

“Number Four!” Mr.Hargreeves snaps. Klaus’ back was facing towards us and his hips were shaking wildly. I giggle again, using my free hand to cover my mouth before it caught Mr. Hargreeves attention. “NUMBER. FOUR!” Mr. Hargreeves yelled. Klaus jumped about a foot in the air before he spun on his heel, ready to give the excuse of a lifetime when he saw Five helping me stand.

“Now what happened here?” He asked inquisitively. He stepped over to the other side of me, eyeing my injuries. “So this has happened once again, my friend?” He asks, moving his left arm to steady his right one as he thrummed his fingers against his cheek.

“Yes, it has. And we’re trying to get her some help. So if you don’t mind moving,” Five says slowly as if that’s the only way to get Klaus to understand something. It usually is.

“Why, yes, dear brother! I would just love to go with you guys to… you know, help out. Check out some things. Make sure our little number 8 is alright,” he gushes, patting my cheek a bit as to not hurt me even further.

“Number Four, you will not be a burden to me right now,” Mr. Hargreeves scolds. Klaus’ smile instantly drops as he meets the eye of his father.

“I would like to help in any way I can,” Klaus states.

“You can’t help!” Mr. Hargreeves shouts, heading down towards the stairs to the left.

“Then I’ll be there for moral support,” Klaus shouts back. Mr. Hargreeves stops and looks at him. Klaus makes a cross over his heart before resting his hand on top of it. “I’ll be as silent as the dead…”

Mr. Hargreeves narrows his eyes before letting out a grunt and heading down the stairs. Five starts moving us as well and this time Klaus follows. He bends down to my height.

“Unluckily and luckily enough, the dead aren’t so silent for me,” he said with a cheeky grin and a sly wink. He bounds ahead and practically skips down the stairs. I see Five shake his head and I couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

“What’s so funny?” Five asks, looking between me and the stairs to help me down.

“You. Klaus. Your family,” I admit. Five scoffs.

“Yeah. My family-“

“Is wonderful.” I interrupt. He stops us, about midway down the flight of stairs. He looks up at me and we seem to have an understanding.

“Maybe they don’t want to make me gauge my eyes out… sometimes,” He admits in a voice so quiet I strain to hear him. I smile and continue down the steps.

The infirmary was in the lowest level of the house. The walls were stone and dark grey. Gourneys were lined up against the wall. Eight of them to be specific. Cabinets, cupboards, and tables decorated the walls. Supplies for any medical emergency. Probably better than any free clinic.

Mr. Hargreeves picks me up and places me carefully on top of a gourney. Klaus sits on the one across from me and Five sticks right by my side.

Grace walks in almost immediately after we settle in and I see pogo waiting in the back. Grace walks up to me and smiles brightly.

“Hello, dear. What happened?” She asks. I look down at my hands and begin to fiddle with them.

“I got hurt…”

“Oh no! How terrible. Well, dear, how did you get-“

“Get the antiseptic, Grace! Now!” Mr. Hargreeves stops her from asking the dreaded question. Grace’s eyes widen before she looks over at Mr. Hargreeves and nods. She makes her way to the supplies. “And we’ll need two wraps and some bandaids. Hurry along now!” He adds. Grace was quick to make haste and bring him all supplies he needed.

It was surprising but Klaus managed to stay decently quiet. The occasional question, whether of what his father was doing, or how I was, he asked. He often repeated questions. Mr. Hargreeves attempted to ignore him but it was becoming difficult. What added to his patience wearing thin was the swinging of Klaus’ legs that hung over the gourney. It created a loud squeaking sound. Five on the other hand stood perfectly still. Stiff, actually. His jaw was locked and his fists were clenched. He looked carefully at what Mr. Hargreeves was doing.

Mr. Hargreeves paid careful attention. He applied antiseptic on my cuts and placed bandaids over them. He had the boys turn around as he had to lift up my shirt to check my ribs. Five had respectably turned around without argue while Klaus had made some quip about how it wouldn’t bother him. His father yelled and although Klaus relented, a wickedly amused smirk danced across his face just as he danced earlier.

Mr. Hargeeeves assured me nothing was broken. Just a few very badly bruised ribs. He left my ankle for last and like my ribs, it wasn’t broken. But sprained. He wrapped both my torso and my ankle. When he had finished, he cleared his throat and stepped back. Klaus immediately jumped off of the gourney.

“So… is she all good doc?” Klaus asked, peering up at him.

“That’s Mr. Hargreeves to you,” he corrected. Klaus frowned before turning to me. “As for you, Number 8. I want you to head to the living room and ice that ankle for awhile.” He holds out his hand out and Grace places an ice pack in it. He holds it out for me to take.

“Thanks for the advice, pop, but I got her from here. I’ll take her off your hands,” Five says with a cheerey smile that was clearly forced. Five quickly takes the ice pack and grabs my hand. He creates a portal and walks through it, dragging me with him. As we move through, I can faintly hear Klaus shout a ‘wait for me.’

I was surrounded by darkness with only Fives hand to guide me. But it only lasted a moment before I was bouncing up and down, having landed already sitting down in Fives bed. I look at the sudden scenery change in shock before my eyes flicker over to Five as he carefully places the ice pack on my ankle before he begins to pace his room. I sigh.

“Five…” I trail off softly. Five stops abruptly, pointing a finger at me.

“He shouldn’t even be near you, let alone hurting you like that!” Five seethes. My shoulders sag as I realize Five had been holding that in since he saw me standing outside of the academy.

“I know,” I say just as softly. He needed to vent this out. I would too if that’s how I dealt with things.

He went back to his pacing before he would randomly stop and kick something before continuing again. I would jump every time. Five began muttering under his breath, saying something I couldn’t even comprehend before he stopped and started kicking his dresser.

“Five! Five stop it!” I shout, not being able to get up and actually stop him. He didn’t listen to me anyway, but rather kicked harder. The wood was starting to chip away. “Five, please! Stop this!”

Five whirled around to face me. “Why haven’t you ever stopped him?! You have powers for gods sakes and you won’t even use them to protect yourself?!!” Five shouts out desperately. I flinch back. His gaze immediately softens and leaves only the remnants of sadness and eagerness. He walks forward and kneels beside the bed next to me. “Why don’t you save yourself?” he whispers. Tears begin to whell up in my eyes.

“Because he’ll only hit harder if I do,” I whimper, tears freely flowing down my face. Five freezes for a moment before sprinting into action. He gets up and sits parallel to my legs on the bed. He takes me into his arms and hugs me as I cry.

“Then I’ll protect you… Sometimes we need others strength in order to gain our own. I’ll—I’ll be your strength,” Five says slowly, making sure his words came out right. Thought the tears continued to fall, I laughed through them.

“When did you become so wise?” I ask him. He shrugs in our embrace.

“I guess I’m just an old soul..”

He keeps me in his arms for a few minutes and I treasure them. Comfort from the boy I liked. Only when we both felt comforted enough to let go, did we slip away from each other. I leant back against the headboard and stared at him. He stared back, a lazy smile on his face. I softly grab his hand and squeeze.

“Promise me you won’t leave. I don’t know how I would handle life without… your sarcasm, of course,” I finish, trying not to make the laugh leaving me sound too awkward. I wanted of say so much more than I did. But I had time. I had time to say all I needed too. I just wasn’t brave enough now. A look flickered over his features before he squeezed my hand firmly.

“I promise.” He nods.

Suddenly the door slams open and Klaus crashes down onto the floor. Five and I instantly look down at Klaus who seemed fine enough just laying on Fives floor.

“What the hell guys..? Why didn’t you take me with you?!” Klaus groans dramatically. Five ignores him and instead looks back to me.

“Only sometimes,” Five says, squinting his eyes and angling his head for a moment. I laugh, shaking my head.

Five moves to sit next to me, looking down at his brother as he nonchalantly grabs my hand and intertwines our fingers. Nothing could stop me from smiling, especially as we both looked down at Klaus who hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor.

“Come on. Get up,” Five says.

“No.” Klaus pouts. “I’ve been banished to the floor and the floor is where I will stay.” Klaus sighs.

“Klaus? We would really like to un-banish you from the floor,” I say. Klaus peaks an eye open and up at us.

“Really?” He asks. We both nod. “Ok!” He scrambles up off the floor and jumps on the bed.

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 4 years ago

Note

Vaunna my beloved ❤

After your amazing Wels and Hels armorstand scene on my server could I get Wels and Hels story? Please? 👉👈

Oca my beloved ❤️

This is genuinely one of my favourite oneshots I’ve written. I just love the Wels/Hels dynamic so much.

Also this is technically a sequel to the last one I wrote so go read it here if you like! This one does make sense without it tho

...

It’s been a few weeks since the server has seen an evil hermit incident, and even though most of the hermits have let down their guard, Welsknight hasn’t. He hasn’t stopped being vigilant since his last encounter with Helsknight. He knows that his evil counterpart is out there somewhere, waiting for another chance to kill him.

Wels knows he can’t give him that chance.

One morning, while out in the desert, grinding for sand, Wels keeps spotting movement out the corner of his eye but every time he looks, he sees nothing. At first, he thinks it’s just the desert playing tricks on his mind. But his knight training tells him not to be so quick to jump to conclusions.

Eventually, he decides to put most of his stuff in a chest and go have a look, just in case. He leaves his valuables in the chest and explores the immediate area, looking carefully for any threats.

He hears the sound behind him and twists to the side, a split second before a figure appears out of nowhere and attempts to shove him to the ground.

Wels jumps back a few steps and raises his diamond pickaxe, realising too late he accidentally brought it instead of his sword. “Helsknight.”

His evil counterpart grins. “Hey, Welsy. Your face is looking great.”

Wels’s hand automatically rises to his cheek, where the burn scar from their last encounter still sits. “Thanks. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you, of course. It’s time we have another little battle, don’t you think?”

Normally, Wels wouldn’t hesitate to stay and fight. But he doesn’t have a real weapon and his inventory is practically empty.

So he bolts back towards his chest, intending to grab his sword for a proper battle. But then he realises he may be running directly into a trap, so he changes direction.

However, at that moment, the ground under his feet gives way, sending him tumbling down into the hole below.

His fall seems to last only a few seconds but it must be far; when he hits the ground, pain explodes through his whole body. He’s fallen very far.

A second after he lands, he hears a splash from nearby and glances up. With the sunlight streaming through the hole, he can see a figure emerging from a single source block of water to his left. His heart skips a beat.

“You idiot!” Hels snaps, tossing the bucket at the wall. “You triggered the trap too soon! I wasn’t out of the way yet!”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Wels’s voice is strained from pain but his anger is unmistakable. “You’re right; I should have been able to avoid the secret trap you set up for me. Dang it. But hey, at least I’m not now stuck in a hole in terrible pain with next to no resources! That sure wouldn’t be ideal!”

Hels glares at him. “Quit it with the sarcasm. This is all your fault.”

Wels feels indignance boil inside him but he forces himself not to rise to the bait. His rational mind knows there’s no point arguing with Hels. “Whatever. I’m gonna see if my friends will come save me.”

He taps out a message to the server asking for help, and within a minute, he gets replies from both Etho and Joe.

“They’re on their way,” he says. “You may as well relax, cuz we’re not going anywhere ‘til then.”

Hels huffs and sits down a few blocks away from Wels, crossing his arms irritably.

They sit in silence for a long time. The sun crosses the sky above them, marking the end of the morning and the start of the afternoon.

After a while, Wels decides to try and be practical. He checks his inventory; all he has on him is his diamond pickaxe, sixteen obsidian, a flint and steel, a single piece of bread, and some seeds. Nothing particularly useful. There aren’t enough blocks to pillar out, and Wels can hardly move while sitting, let alone standing, anyway. He could make a nether portal, but what would be the point? There’s no way he can survive better in the nether than in this pit right now.

He glances up. “Hels, do you have-.”

“I don’t have anything on me, useful or otherwise,” says Hels immediately.

Wels knows this means he doesn’t have food on him either. He can tell from the pouty expression on Hels’s face that his counterpart is hungry. Even though Wels’s hunger was reduced somewhat by the fall, he decides to be the bigger person.

He breaks his loaf of bread in half and offers the bigger part to Hels, who eyes him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

Frowning confusedly, Wels replies, “Giving you some bread.”

“Why?”

“...because we both need food?”

“Yeah, so why don’t you just eat it all? You’ll be fuller.”

“But you won’t have any.” Wels shakes his hand. “Just take it.”

Hels continues to scowl at him. “Is it poisoned?”

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Wels flicks the piece of bread into Hels’s lap and starts slowly eating his own. Out the corner of his eye, he watches Hels carefully inspect the bread before taking a hesitant bite. Finally satisfied that he isn’t being tricked, Hels starts to gobble the bread.

Wels watches him curiously. “Why would I try to poison you, Hels?”

Hels shrugs. “We’re enemies, isn’t that what we do? Try to kill each other?”

“No,” Wels says. “That’s the way YOU see our relationship. I never wanted to be enemies with you, you know.”

“Really? Wasn’t it you who started all this?”

“No, you literally turned up out of the blue and dropped me in a hole one day. Then I destroyed you in a rap battle. Remember that?”

“I remember the hole,” says Hels. “Don’t remember losing any rap battle.”

“Uh huh.”

The two fall into silence as they eat. Wels continues to watch Hels, who has already finished his half of the bread.

“Can I make an observation?” he asks after a few minutes.

Hels huffs. “No but you’re gonna do it anyway.”

“You’re not used to the concept of sharing, are you?”

“Sharing?” Hels sits up straighter, a possessive look appearing in his eyes. “I don’t share anything! Nothing!”

“That’s not what I meant,” says Wels. “I meant the concept of people voluntarily sharing things with you.”

Hels glares at him for a moment longer, before relaxing visibly. “No. Back in my dimension, it’s every person for themselves. You protect what you’ve got cuz if you don’t, you’re gonna lose it forever, so people hoard their stuff like it’s made of gold. I never got attached to anything cuz I knew it’d probably get snatched away from me sooner or later. I-.” He breaks off as he registers Wels’s expression. “Oh, don’t you dare pity me,” he growls.

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are, you’re looking at me like I’m an abandoned baby dog or something.”

Wels raises an eyebrow. “Baby dog? You mean a puppy?”

“Shut up!” Hels growls again and huffily turns away from his counterpart. “I’m not a stupid puppy for you to adopt and train! If I get the opportunity, I WILL kill you. I would gladly leave you here to rot if it meant I could get outta this stupid hole. In fact, the only reason I’m not beating you to death right now is because you’re my best chance of getting out of here alive.”

A pause follows his words.

Eventually, Wels sighs. “Sometimes, it’s so easy to see that you’re all the worst parts of me combined.”

To his surprise, Hels doesn’t respond. His arms are folded but Wels can’t see his expression, can’t see that his counterpart’s eyes are misted over.

Hels is frustrated with himself; Wels has insulted him many times since their first meeting so why did that one little remark hurt him so much? Why has it brought him to tears like this?

Maybe it’s because Wels’s remark forced him to remember that he’s not his own person. He wasn’t born organically; he was brought into existence by a combination of Wels and a weird cloning machine. The nature of his “birth” means he isn’t a real person. He’s just a copy of Wels, made up of all the parts of himself that he hates.

Maybe that’s all he’ll ever be.

A soft groan brings Hels out of his thoughts. He glances to the right and sees that Wels’s condition has deteriorated; his skin has rapidly paled and he’s clearly struggling to breathe.

As Hels watches, Wels reaches a shaking hand into his inventory and weakly throws an item to Hels, who catches it and turns it over. It’s a flint and steel.

Hels glances up in time to see Wels drop some obsidian down beside him as well. “Go, Hels,” he rasps. “Make a portal and go back to the nether.”

Hels blinks, his mind racing as he tries to figure out the catch. “What are you doing? Why did you give me this?”

“So you can escape. My friends are coming for me but I’ll probably die before they get here. If you’re still here when they arrive, there’s no telling what they’ll do to you. Just go while you still can.”

After a moment, Hels narrows his eyes. “Are you tricking me? What’s the catch?”

“Nothing,” Wels insists weakly. “Just please, go, quickly.”

“No, seriously. Why are you so insistent I leave?”

“B-Because…” Wels hesitates, taking in a shaky breath. “Because it’s getting dark and the mobs will be coming soon and I don’t want you to die. If I die, I respawn. You don’t.”

Hels stares at his counterpart in confusion. “You… don’t want me to die?”

“Of course not. How many times do we have to-.”

He breaks off as he tries to stifle a pained cry. The fall damage he took is starting to catch up with him now.

The groan of a zombie sounds from nearby. Hels’s eyes widen with fear.

“Go, Hels!” Wels’s voice cracks. “Please!”

Looking deep into his counterpart’s eyes and finding nothing but fear and desperation in them, Hels turns and creates a portal on the very edge of the pit, lighting it up with the flint and steel.

He glances back at Wels one final time, before disappearing through the portal.

Wels closes his eyes, breathing a shallow sigh. His counterpart should be safe; if he’s anything like Wels himself, he knows how to survive on his own.

As the mob sounds start to surround him, he feels a calm sense of relief. He knows he’ll respawn back in his bed, and at this moment, he doesn’t care that he’ll lose the items he has on him right now. He just wants the pain to end.

…

Hidden safely in the nether, Hels clutches the flint and steel his counterpart gave him. He can’t stop staring at it; it represents the sacrifice Wels made for him. The first time anyone has been willing to lay down their own life for him. He can hardly believe it even happened at all; the concept of loving someone enough to want to protect them even at the cost of their own life is completely foreign.

As he’s puzzling this out, a message appears on the communicator he stole from Wels during their last confrontation. A message he knew deep down was coming, but one that still catches him off guard.

Welsknight was slain by zombie

#hermitcraft #helsknight #welsknight #Vaunna writes

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wrienne · 3 years ago

Text

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 5: Amnesia

“‘Amnesic’?” you echoed.

“Yes, amnesic,” Kim Sejin confirmed. “It’s made the situation much more complicated than it normally would have turned out. He won’t sleep and refuses to eat or take any painkillers. It was a miracle he accepted any medical treatment at all.”

“Amnesia merely affects your memory,” you said confidently. “It shouldn’t disturb his basic intelligence.”

Last year, Se-Eun had been fanatic about a manhwa or manga about a protagonist who had suffered that exact ailment, which resulted in her reading up on everything about it. And of course, she had poured all of that so very necessary - no, not really, not until now - information into your brain, so you were feeling pretty up to date about the condition. There were two main types of amnesia, but neither of them would make a person lose all of his senses.

“Well, to clarify, he mistrusts everyone.” Sejin averted his gaze, then continued quietly. “The kid doesn’t even recognize his group members. It was really… tough seeing that, though it was even tougher when I was forced to send them home with him being the way he is.” He cleared his throat, then met your gaze again. You thought you saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes before he blinked and it was gone. “He barely speaks. He won’t sleep if someone is in the room. And even though he can’t eat with his broken arm, he won’t let anyone feed him.”

“The last might have something to do with hospital food in general,” you said, trying your best to lighten up the mood. In all honesty, you felt as if someone was twirling around your intestines with a giant, hot fork. “Have you tried something else? Sweets? Fried chicken?”

“Nothing works,” Sejin said bitterly. “Not even the nurses or the doctors can win him over. He’s… a bit out of it, if you ask me.”

You undid your hair and ran a frustrated hand through it. “Why call me?” you exclaimed. “Why not his parents?”

“His parents have been contacted,” he began, “but nobody has replied. And it wasn’t exactly my intention to call you. Your number was the only unfamiliar one Taehyung found among Jungkook’s contacts. Neither of us thought it would be you, considering the ID, though I am glad it was.”

“Why?” you asked, only fleetingly wondering exactly what kind of nickname you had had the misfortune of receiving on Jungkook’s phone that had made both Sejin and someone named Taehyung so surprised. Demon fiancée? The spawn of Satan? A better question would also be how he had gotten your number in the first place. You didn't have his.

“What exactly do you think I might accomplish that none of you haven’t already thought of?” you went on. “We’re just family friends. Why not get any of his other acquaintances? Or why not his girlfriend?” A little bit of your earlier jealousy trickled into your voice, weighing it down. It broke painfully, reluctantly. You cringed at the pitiful sound.

“He’s been asking for you.”

You paled. “What?”

Kim Sejin wore a dead-serious expression. “As soon as the kid regained consciousness, your name was the first thing that jumped out of his mouth. And I did call Yi-Jae almost first, but when she arrived, he couldn’t recognize her either. It really broke her.”

You almost didn't hear him. Jungkook had called for you? He remembered you out of everyone?

“I'm going in,” you said and finally opened the door.

Sejin looked like he had wanted to say something else but you were already halfway inside. Sitting on the edge of one of two hospital beds with his booted feet planted firmly into the floor and back toward the doorway, was a lonely guy dressed familiarly in a large t-shirt and loose-fitting blue jeans. Layers of bandage encircled his head, his right arm rested in a basic splint and you noticed minor scratches and bruises across his body that had mostly been patched up. A few spots of maroon sullied the otherwise white of his t-shirt. Other than that, Jeon Jungkook looked completely fine.

As soon as you entered, he spun around. What had initially been an expression of suspicion across his features melted into a face of recognition - and joy.

“(Y/N)!” he exclaimed and abruptly stood and made a movement to go to you before stopping himself. His eyes darted to something behind you and his features stiffened.

Kim Sejin had walked in after you. You were quick to gather yourself and cleared your throat. “I think I should handle this on my own,” you told Sejin. “If you could just wait outside…?”

He nodded once before quickly leaving, closing the door after him. You had still caught the hurt in the man’s eyes, however.

“Took you long enough!”

Jungkook continued toward you, grimacing slightly when he had to lean on his left leg. But he was smiling again. At you.

“Sorry, I was watching paint dry,” you said automatically, your brain and tongue having gotten used to quick retorts with Jungkook. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Jeon Jungkook was happy to see you?

“Because that seems healthy to do.”

“Heard you got ran over,” you said, ignoring him as you tried to get a grip of the situation. He was amnesic, you would have to keep that in mind all the time. He had probably lost at least the last five or so years while with BTS. That would explain why he remembered you, since your relationship practically predated the dinosaurs.

But when had there been a time in your life when you two were happy to see each other?

“Yeah, accident,” Jungkook said as he halted in front of you. “Or so they tell me.”

This close, you could see some dirt still left underneath his ear, and he smelled of alcohol, the city and disinfectant. You tried not to look too concerned, adopting a casual pose with your arm crossed over your chest. But inside, your emotions and thoughts were in turmoil.

“You do look great for someone supposedly hit by a car,” you admitted after conspicuously eyeing him up and down. “Barely a scratch.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell them.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to you, almost causing you to flinch backward at the sudden lack of space between you. “I don’t trust anyone of them. I mean, I get that my arm needs bandaging and that I need rest. I can feel that, physically. But there were six or so guys crowding me just recently, people I have never seen in all of my life, that were all incredibly concerned. They were telling me everything would be alright, that they could help me get better and that they were happy I wasn’t dead. But all I could think about was: ‘How long have they just been sitting there, watching me?'”

“What’s so bad about that?” you asked and frowned. “Even if you don’t know them, didn’t it feel great waking up to people waiting for you?”

“No,” he said quietly as he averted his gaze. “Not when I don’t know them and they keep telling me how much I do.”

There it was: fear. You could read it in his mere voice.

“Then I guess it’s my turn to try and convince you,” you said carefully. “You’ve gotten amnesia, Jungkook, that’s why you can’t remember them. But for years now, you’ve spent almost every day with six guys, training, performing and living together. They are your hyungs. The seven of you are BTS, one of the biggest, most popular K-pop groups in the world. You stood on a stage in a completely filled stadium just a few hours ago. Are you sure you don’t even feel a tiny bit of recognition?”

“No. All I know is you.”

You felt your breath hitch in the back of your throat and your face flush with color. That had been an unexpected response.

Jungkook seemed as if he were waiting for you to reply but you couldn’t find your voice. With a frustrated sigh, he backed away from you and sank down on the ledge of the same hospital bed he had sat on when you entered. He leaned his torso forward, placed his elbows on his thighs and rested his head in the palms of his hands. You remained standing, as paralyzed.

“You are all I can think about,” he murmured after a long pause, then grimaced. “I think I was angry with you and that I had something really, really important to tell you. I was… I was going to see you but that’s about all I can recall. Everything else is too blurry. It hurts just trying to think about what I had for breakfast - I can’t even begin to imagine having been friends with those guys, even less performed with them a couple hours ago. I am just so confused and paranoid and--”

His voice broke, and he ceased talking. Your heart ached seeing him like that. He didn’t react when you moved closer, or even when you sat down next to him. He simply hid his face in his hands. You were tempted to reach out and touch him, comfort him, but even before you raised your arm, you recalled his eyes when he had looked at Park Yi-Jae. You recalled the ease with which he had moved to let her kiss his cheek.

This was wrong. Everything had gone so terribly wrong.

Still, you draped an arm over his shoulder blades and gently squeezed his bicep with your other hand. He tensed slightly, then relaxed as you began speaking.

“We’ll sort this through,” you told him softly. “One step after another. I don’t know how, and I doubt I’m even nearly enough qualified to help you, but I will do my very best. I refuse to see you break because of this.”

“I… I have wanted to become a singer for so very long...”

His voice was only one step above a whisper. It took all your willpower not to embrace him and hold him until he told you to stop. You knew it wouldn’t be right.

“I know,” you replied. “I won’t let you lose this opportunity. I’ll help you through this, Jeon Jungkook.”

One of his hands found yours, and clamped around it. “Even though I’ve been horrible toward you for the last ten, fifteen years or so?”

“Oh, so that you remember?” you asked while laughing. “I was starting to think you were a lost cause. Well, shoot, there goes the plan I had for using your pretty face to make money in a very illegal way.”

He chuckled, but wouldn’t show his face yet. “That’s dark, (Y/N). Cruel too. You don’t need any more money.”

You laughed again, feeling tremendously better now. “I’m just trying to lighten up the mood. We’re in a hospital, you know.”

“Thank you for telling me,” he said sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware of that until just now.”

“No problem.” You couldn’t help but smile, even as you tried to regain a serious tone. “Jungkook, even though you can be a stupid brat more often than not, I have to admit that you’re one of the most head-strong, unyielding and hard-working people I know. If you can’t make it through this, I don’t think there’s anyone out there who can.”

Finally, he lifted his head and turned to look at you. There were no tears staining his cheeks, but his cheeks and nose were rosy and his brown eyes glittered, like he were just on the brink of crying. You gave him your gentlest smile then scooted away, feeling your heartbeats hasten and your skin grow warm underneath the weight of his gaze.

“Thank you.”

His hand wouldn’t release yours. Your heart was racing and slammed against the inner side of your ribcage so hard you thought it was trying to break out and run away - at least you were in the right place to get a cardiac arrest.

But still, he had simply thanked you. Why were you getting so weird because of that?

You cleared your throat and pointedly looked at his hand. Jungkook eyes widened in surprise and he quickly let go of you.

“So,” you began as you stood up, eager to get some distance between you two. “The first thing we need to do is get you something to eat and drink. And then you need to sleep. By the way, why aren’t you in a hospital gown?”

“I’m not hungry, and I don’t want to wear one,” he replied. “It makes me look sickly and dying, which I’m not. I’ve just injured my arm, that’s it.”

“Well, I don’t think sweaty, bloody clothes are the most optimal to rest in. I will have to find some new clothes for you to wear,” you said, scrutinizing him from head to toe. He was athletic and lithe, yet tall enough that he probably had to size upwards in most brands. While spending a moment trying to figure out the most optimal clothing store, you realized that since they lived together, his group members probably knew where he had his wardrobe. You decided you would go there as soon as possible.

“You don’t need to spend money on me,” he said, his voice suddenly harsh, his face hardening to stone.

You frowned, but decided against prying. He needed to sleep as soon as possible.

“Don’t worry,” you told him, “I won’t. I’ll find something fresh you can loan by tomorrow. Are you hungry? Should I return with some fast food or something first?”

“You’re leaving?”

You nodded and checked your phone. “I have to go to school in less than six hours. I can try to come at lunch tomorrow, but most likely, I won’t be here until late afternoon. So you’ve got to tell me now if you want fried chicken or not. I’ll even buy some Pepsi if you’re sweet about it.”

You stood with your back against him as you searched for your parents’ driver in the contact list. You were waiting for him to pick up when Jungkook spoke.

“I won’t be able to sleep without you here.”

You opened your mouth to make fun of him when you saw his expression. It was that frightened expression you remembered from a long time back.

You knew you couldn’t leave him.

“Fine,” you said as you canceled the call. “But I will have to leave early in the morning. I can’t miss school.”

“As long as you wake me before you go.”

Jungkook looked at you with eyes you could not help but sympathize with. Yet you understood, he had to rest.

“I will,” you lied.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Satisfied, he began lifting one leg after the other onto his bed when you stopped him. After taking off his boots and helping him with the paper-thin blanket, you washed your hands, face and mouth in a basin that was in the room. By the time you thought you wouldn’t smell like noodles anymore and you started drying yourself with a paper towel, you heard light snoring from behind you. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Jungkook must have fought back sleep for a long time while mouthing off the doctors and nurses.

You unzipped your jacket and hung it over one of seven chairs in the room, together with your purse. You set an alarm on your phone and plugged it into a socket that until then had powered an ugly bedside lamp. And finally, you found yourself sitting next to him on the other hospital bed in the room, watching his peaceful face.

You weren’t in love with Jeon Jungkook. You truly weren’t.

But you might have just begun falling for him.

#wrienne #ao3 #bts fanfiction #MCAF

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years ago

Text

Melting Ice and Warmth and Words

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Teba x Saki, 8505 Words

I made this fic for @zzariyo for my server’s gift exchange event! Hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun with it :3

In which Harth is the gay best friend(TM), Teba is a god damn fool, and I become a lesbian for Saki. Also this was slightly based on a post about how Saki threatens Teba with a sword.

This is the tumblr version but check it out on AO3 if you prefer

- - - - - - - - - -

"Historians probably hate you," Harth mumbled, as he tested the weight of his bow. "This is, what, the third time you've stolen priceless artifacts?"

Teba continued flipping through the pages. The sound of rustling parchment melded with the crackling fire behind him. A soothing mix of leather and pine aromas filled the Flight Range.

"It's not stealing if no one knows it exists," Teba countered, not bothering to look up.

"Yet."

He shrugged. "Yet."

Another sigh filled the air, and the two of them went back to their respective preparations. Harth set down his Swallow Bow and went to fill up two sets of quivers, while Teba continued poring through the personal history of a dead Champion.

It had been a day or two since he had found yet another artifact from a century ago. The depths of the Flight Range, and the expanse of the not-so-well-kept records in the library hid all too many secrets, to which Teba had taken full advantage.

This journal was worn, cracked smoky leather showing its fragile age. Although in comparison to its two predecessors—Revali's Diary and The Great Revali's Diary respectively—this journal was in much better condition. Other than by the contents of the pages itself, Teba had discovered you could decipher the chronological order of the diaries based on how sophisticated the titles were. The more extravagant ones being more recent, that is.

The warrior let out a huff after perusing through another paragraph of dark, cursive writing. He continued digging through the pages with an aura of frustration. Harth, ever one to press his buttons, glanced back.

"So if you don't plan to inform everyone else about your latest finding, yet, what exactly are you doing with it now?"

Another turn of the page. "The same thing I've done before. Searching for clues."

A smirk formed on Harth's face. "Hm. You know these days it's hard for you to read a cookbook properly without help."

"Shut up will you, I'm trying to focus."

A shrug, and then a beat of silence; the two of them basked for a moment in the piercing wind that cut through the Flight Range. The flickering shadows cast by the fire only served to add to the almost haunting beauty that tonight brought. The chilling midnight moon was a barely distinguishable sliver, white against white in the brewing storm. Teba could only long for the soft hammock of his home. Although, it's not like he would be relaxing anyway.

Nearly all hours of the day, if he wasn't practicing with his bow, he was poring through a damn book. It definitely wasn't out of a passion for reading, but more of a desire to spite his superiors.

Elder Kaneli had yakked his beak off about how the "bow of Champion Revali is our last physical connection to our valuable history" and thus was not to be taken out of its chest, ever. So there went Teba's dreams of dissecting it and constructing a masterful bow of his own.

Kaneli had said that a "young Rito like yourself shouldn't spend so much time out in the cold." So there went Teba's desire to devote himself to archery, shackled by the Flight Range's new "curfew," which was essentially a bedtime.

And, years ago, after a teenage Teba had found the very first diary of the Rito Champion, showing it off to the respected elder as quick as he could, Kaneli had beamed in his rocking chair and said, "Oh hoo! We shall get to storing it immediately!" So there went Teba's achievement, gathering dust in a box for a good three weeks before he had just decided to start sneaking into the records at night to pore through it. "Preserve the paper's integrity" his ass, he knew the librarian just hated him for that time his makeshift bomb arrow had caused her tail feathers to smell burnt for a month.

At nearly every turn, there was always something that hindered Teba's progress towards getting clues about how to master Revali's Gale. If that wasn't enough, Kaneli had been nagging him more and more lately about settling down and relaxing. Just a few years ago, Kaneli had been all about training him to be a mighty warrior, but nowadays the elder just couldn't seem to shut up about "exploring new pastimes!"

So here he was, with his new pastime. Reading, like the thrilling warrior he was.

Teba rolled his eyes after skimming through another paragraph. He hurriedly turned through a few more pages, the rustling parchment catching Harth's eye once again.

"So how's the research going? Is it just brimming with inspiring details about how to command the wind?"

Teba chuckled, although there was clear bitterness in the tone. He held up and flipped the journal around, so that Harth could read the contents written within.

"You tell me..."

~The Eighth of Nayru's Moon~

Once again, that little knight has failed to so much as acknowledge my presence. He probably wouldn't know charisma and impeccable skill if it was shoved right into his perfect face— and goddess believe me, I have tried as such.

Just today, I was— formerly assumed alone— at the Flight Range, practicing my Gale, when from the corner of my eye I saw him watching me. His face, an unfortunate yet predictable bland block of carving wood. Even after witnessing my masterful abilities? HA! His dead gaze borders on blindness.

To think, the King is looking to appoint him as the princess' personal guard. I should think someone as unperceptive as he would do better as a cleaning maid. Forget the quick instincts of battle, I'm sure he'd be dead in an instant. He just blankly looks and looks, and stares and stares. All he ever does is stare at me, unassuming... with those striking blue eyes of his.

Too striking. Distracting even. If he dares show his stupid, atrociously awful face at my Flight Range again, I might just have to nip his poorly drawn bowstring myself. Followed by a legendary duel to the death, of course.

Then again, if he for some reason stops by tomorrow, I wouldn't mind that much.

Harth leaned back and gave Teba a smirk. "So, that's a no on the Gale research then?"

Teba let out another huff, snapping the book closed and getting on his feet. "Nothing but boy troubles in this one. He has to have kept more entries out there that could actually be useful to me."

Fiddling with an arrow shaft in one wing, Harth went back to filling the quivers. He let out a laugh. "Ah, I'm sure it's not all useless! At least now you know you're not the only Rito in history who's terrible at flirting."

A scoff. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That was literally about as straightforward as I could have been with this topic."

"Well do me straighter."

Harth proceeded to have a coughing fit for five minutes.

The sounds of wheezing laughter and less than polite comments from Teba echoed through the Flight Range.

"Hylia, I may not be looking for a wife, but I hope one day I adopt or something just so I can tell my grandkids how much of an idiot you are," Harth finally said, at the end of their colorful banter. "But yes, thank you for proving my point. A Boko skull has a better grasp on charisma than you."

The warrior crossed his wings over his chest, looking away. "Well sorry that I've been focusing on my strengths rather than dabbling in immaturities."

"Remember when you were in the infirmary and you tried to tell that nurse, Saki," he snorted, "You tried to tell her she had nice posture–"

"Shut it. Shut it and quit your grinning before I shove you into the fire and use the arrows as kindling."

Another laugh echoes, and the most Teba can do is narrow his eyes. But after a beat, he perks up and looks back in his direction. "How do you know her name?"

Harth raised an eyebrow. "Saki? Well I don't know, she treated me during that Ice Talus accident a month back. I probably just asked for her name at some point, you know, like a normal person." He shook his head. "Spirits above, Teba, you've probably been in that infirmary more than I have. Have you really not gained the social skills to ask for someone's name?"

He stared at the very interesting and engaging wooden floor, shifting his weight between his legs. "I don't have to answer that."

"Oh, woe is you. Kaneli never gave you a pep talk about how to make friends?"

"HA! I think our conversational topics peaked in the days where he actually encouraged my archery training. Less 'pep talk,' more 'lecture,' nowadays."

"Alright, alright, save your daddy problems for breakfast, Teba."

Teba glowered much in the way a Lynel would to its soon-to-be-dead prey, feeding Harth's amusement.

"Anyhow, you needn't go so hard on the guy, he just doesn't want you to kill yourself, which is especially relevant tonight." He turned around and picked up the now fully stocked quivers. "Now that you've finally managed to tug your beak out of that book," he tossed one to the huffy bird, "Let's go slay some monsters."

Teba's earlier expression morphed into stern concentration, emotion dripping away in favour of a practiced warrior's focus. He grasped one of the arrows and inspected the tip. "Fire arrows? Wouldn't bomb arrows be more effective on monsters?" The night seemed to turn colder to match his more serious tone.

The charcoal feathered Rito slung his bow and quiver onto his back, speaking quickly as he worked. "Not necessarily. We want as much vision as we can, can't risk getting blind-sided by even one of its attacks. Explosions would give even more cover to an already invisible foe." He also mumbled something about how he barely had the income to afford them.

There was a moment of silence as Teba calculated and turned over Harth's words, before putting the pieces together. He gave a confident nod as confirmation.

"So… have you ever slain a Wizzrobe before?" Harth asked.

The warrior smirked to himself, turning towards the exit with bow and quiver. White against white as he stood on the snow covered landing.

"Not yet."

- - - - -

Thunderous sounds in a frozen tundra; it came after the ripple of footsteps.

Jaded peaks weathered grey, the sky couldn’t be distinguished from the land. The snow had pounded harder and harder as they flew, flurries coating the feathered fletchings on their arrows.

Harth landed first, walking around on the open, frigid expanse. Teba did a sweep of the surroundings from the air. Nothing.

The base of the Hebra Mountain Trail— just under the shadow of the South Summit— this was where the last attack was. Hopefully it was where the final one was too.

There had been three travelers total; two Rito, one Hylian merchant. Minor injuries. Most all ran away at the first sign of frostbite. It was normal for the occasional monster attack to come up every now and again, and it just wouldn’t be worth the resources to hunt down every Lizalfos and Bokoblin that happened upon some unfortunate soul. By the time anyone lives to tell the tale, the beast has probably already moved miles from where it was last seen. The Hebra wasn’t exactly the most accommodating of places to enjoy long term.

And so that was the excuse. Save the supplies for bigger threats. An Ice Talus, Hinox… Hylia forbid a Lynel. A Wizzrobe would probably be off dancing in the sunset by now, and thus, no warriors should waste supplies looking for an “unnecessary fight."

Teba remembered scoffing when he heard the news— a scoff apparently so spiteful, that it had earned him a rare glare from Kaneli.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Teba. You won’t be recklessly going off alone to find it, understand? I mean it!”

Teba perched on one of the cliffs, getting a clear view of Harth below, surrounded by white on white on white. Harth turned his head and gave a thumbs up in his direction.

Well, that was one half of the instructions followed. The “stupid” part is still up in the air, though.

Teba unslung his Falcon Bow from his back, resting a fire arrow on the bowstring’s serving. If someone were to look up at where he crouched, they would be greeted by a piercing golden gaze; a pair of cold suns that sent you shivering.

That was the intent, anyhow. A warrior with a gaze like fire. Like lightning, like metal, like suns, like steel. That’s what he’d been told in the past, so he might as well use it to his advantage.

Still… he remembered once how someone had compared them to honey.

“What?” He had been taken aback by the sudden observation.

“Or like butterscotch… I use it a lot when baking. Oh! I’ve seen gorgeous dandelions like it too.” The nurse—“Saki?” Did Harth say?—tended to the wound just below his eye. “You should be thankful the color is so pleasant, the sight is probably what caused that Moblin to miss its mark!” Saki smiled and for the first time, Teba understood what it meant to call something “the sun.”

“Make sure you don’t use those eyes of yours to go looking for more trouble. Or else…” She had narrowed her eyes playfully. Noticing him just staring at her in silence, she cocked her head to the side, curious.

“Sorry, was there something you wanted to say to me?”

Yeah, but I’m not sure what. All he could really notice at that moment was how relaxed her posture was around him. Usually, he was surrounded by his fellow rigid warriors, or the stance of someone that looked in his eyes and saw fire. So…she was a nice change of pace.

Too bad his communication skills could be trumped by a deflated octoballon. Teba's sigh manifested into a small white puff in the cold air. Nevermind that now.

He had to stay focused. Teba would cut no corners when it came to using Harth as bait. However, he couldn’t deny the somewhat pissy mood he was in. No Gale, no practice, no clues, no fights. Sooner or later the village might just strap him into a rocking chair and say it was for the best. What a joke… At least killing off a dangerous creature would help let off some steam— ice? Magic ice…water…arrows… fuck.

Teba rolled his eyes at his own incompetence. Can’t even be a decent wordsmith in my own head. Harth was right.

A sudden flash of movement and his mind immediately crashed back to reality. Eyes instantly trained back to the ash colored Rito on the ground, who had now turned and aimed his bow at the horizon. Not even a second after the movement was made, Teba had an arrow nocked and aimed in one practiced, fluid motion.

Harth had two arrows nocked, aiming towards an unseen target obscured in the haze of snow.

Black against the pale of midnight’s frigid sheet of snow. If Harth could see something, it would no doubt also see him. He stepped forward, Swallow Bow unwavering in the wind

Teba adjusted the draw of his bow, training its angle to match Harth’s movements and ready to release at a moments notice.

The crunch of talons on snow. A small patch of dead bushes just a few paces in front of Harth.

One step.

Two…

Suddenly, an arctic fox dashed to the right and disappeared into the snow.

A draining silence. Steady, freezing breaths condense into puffs of clouds out of Teba’s beak. There was still a knot of tension in his chest, but he could start to feel it ripple out, like a patter of footsteps as a mix of closed off fear and anxiety walked out the door. Still, he didn’t falter his draw. After a moment, he saw Harth put down his bow and sigh. The Rito turned towards Teba’s direction to give him a smile and a shrug.

Harth met his gaze.

Then, the expression on his face suddenly morphed into shock.

Teba didn’t think twice.

He snapped around and let gravity take him, loosing the already nocked flame. The hiss of fire flew and connected with its target with a satisfying crack! Midfall, he could hear Harth shout a much too late “Behind you!”

The fire arrow hit rock, crumbling stones clash against snow. The burst of flame roared like thunder on the cliffside. Although the creature wasn’t hit, the area of effect was still large enough to singe at the tips of cloth.

A pearly white robe that faded deathly blue. The glow of ice and dark silhouette. A shrill cry escaped from the Wizzrobe that had stood, wand in hand, behind Teba’s perch just seconds ago. Even in distress, it wore a chilling grin.

Bastard. You won’t get another chance.

Another flame nocked and loosed with lightning speed.

The creature laughed, as if in pity, and twirled in its step.

Gone.

Teba gave a flap of his wings to stop his momentum. His talons safely connected with the ground, and Harth was at his side at once.

“Are you alright!? Are you hit?!” Harth started to inspect his wing, but Teba continued staring at the sky, “S-Say something, dammit! Teba we need to—”

He held up a wing, the gesture with an unspoken tone of “shut it.” Teba readied another fire arrow and pointed into the air. He whispered.

“Listen…”

His eyes narrowed in concentration, trying to discern sounds from the muffle of wind. Harth pressed back and covered Teba’s blind spot, nocking an arrow of his own.

The wind was unaccompanied. The dead bushes shuddered a tempo.

And then the midnight sang.

Like the pleasant echo of a music box…a lullaby that seemed to twinkle against the brink of night and day. A ripple of footsteps. A sparkle to his left, skipping like stones, as if the wind was water. There was a faint laugh, but Teba was the one to smile.

Gotcha.

The Wizzrobe had barely manifested before the fire arrow flew. A burst of orange connected with its frail arm, and the creature shrieked. Harth quickly turned and fired his own shot, the arrow nearly lodging into its face, but arching low and hitting its torso instead. The Wizzrobe panicked while the two Rito went to reload.

“Go for the face!” Harth shouted as he went to grab two arrows from his quiver. “It’s the only part that’s not protected by that stupid magic robe!”

As if on cue, the Wizzrobe had started laughing to itself, its arms flailing wildly as the flames that engulfed its person suddenly disappeared. It gripped its Blizzard Rod in both hands, starting to twirl with a sickening grin.

Teba aimed for the sky. “Move!”

Harth shuffled back in obedience as fire soared. The arrow crashed into a giant sphere of ice that hurtled from the heavens, shattering into pieces just a few feet above their head.

The impact caused them both to fly backwards, the bow knocked out of Teba’s grip.

Hmm… fuck.

Teba crashed hard, tasting dirt and snow. Luckily Harth was able to get in position to fire an arrow.

Its arc through the air was cut short by multiple more icy spheres hurtling down around the Wizzrobe.

Harth cursed under his breath. While they were far enough away to avoid the barrage of ice magic that would no doubt freeze them with a single touch, it would be nearly impossible to get close enough for a kill. Teba picked himself up and crouched beside Harth.

“How much fire total?”

Harth shook his head and stared at the ground. “I was so concerned with not arousing suspicion…sneaking out to fight was one thing, but—”

“This is no time for regrets. How many fire arrows, dammit?”

Harth let out a huff. “I bought a bundle of five and split them between us. The last fifteen in each quiver are regular ones. Although at this angle I doubt they would be of any use.”

Teba’s eyes sat calculating for a moment. “So I’ve used two. One hit, one miss. And you—”

“I landed the third just earlier on its torso. The forth…” He turned in the direction of the shower of ice. He could see it smash against the wooden remnants of an arrow. “I used just now.”

Hylia forgive the less than polite words towards the spirits that Teba spoke.

Harth gave a nod towards Teba’s quiver, while handing him his Swallow Bow. “Here. I gave the extra to the best shot around. I’ll distract it while you make the last shot count.”

Teba scoffed. “You and I both know you can’t just adjust to a new bow on the fly and expect to be accur—”

“Well if you’ve got a better plan, I’m more than happy to hear it!”

Teba grimaced. Always life and its impossible instructions.

The warrior slung his quiver in front of him, indeed confirming the last fire arrow nestled between the regular ones. He took the Swallow Bow in hand and gave another glance towards the Wizzrobe.

Its earlier spell had stopped now, and it was now skipping all too happily towards them. The ripples of its chiming steps seemed to glow brighter and brighter as it approached.

Tsk. What a gloat. It’s not even bothering to sneak up on us anymore.

Harth gave a flap of his wings and hovered. “I’ll lure it near the base of the mountain trail, and you flank. Do what you must, it’s all you.” He took to the air and began taunting the Wizzrobe, attracting its attention.

Teba cursed. He harshly slung the quiver back around him while taking up the bow. In the motion, a journal dropped into the snow.

“Crap, the…” He trailed off, observing it for a moment. The words on the page it had opened up on caught his eye.

~The Twentieth of Starset Moon~

I hope a Wizzrobe carries me off before I see him again. I envy their magical ability to disappear from sight at a moment’s notice. Maybe then I wouldn’t embarrass myself so in front of Link.

I've always called my eyes a mere jade. A simple enough descriptive hue, and on occasion it would serve as a masterful segue into a pun about how the best warriors have a gaze that can pierce like stone. But no, he just had to call it, “grass.”

“Actually, I’m fairly certain that the hues of Hyrule’s earthly flora are much lighter than the color of my eyes.” I had said. “Like I previously stated. Jade, or emerald works. Jagged jade if you are akin to alliteration.”

Curse my arrogance as my response only caused him to elaborate. “It’s not just the color” he had said. “It’s like a sensation. I like just looking at fields. To lie in them, and smell, and be in comfort in the grass and outside.” He shrugged like nothing was wrong. “Your eyes give me that comfort.”

Hylia is a cruel goddess to curse us Rito to become round puffballs whenever emotions get the better of us. THANKFULLY, he didn’t notice as he then started to ramble on and on about his—slightly concerning—knowledge about the flammability of plants. How flaming weapons and flint produced different embers. How any fire arrow can become a bomb arrow with enough kindling. How you could tell the flammability of certain flora based on the shade of green. He noted how my own eyes were not the most flammable, so… there’s that compliment, I suppose.

There was a roar in the distance as ice crashed onto the earth. Teba snapped the journal shut again.

The Wizzrobe had cast another spell, a blur of charcoal feathers could be seen dodging the attacks.

Teba stood sifting through his thoughts as quickly as he could. Whatever power above had caused him to stumble upon this entry…he’d have to thank them later when he had the time and the faith.

The idea was obvious in hindsight. If he couldn’t guarantee a shot at a small target, then make the target bigger.

The warrior took the fire arrow in one wing, and the journal in the other. The diary was old and dry, and obviously it had a much bigger surface area than an arrow tip.

So he quickly took the very last fire arrow and pierced it through.

It burst into flames in an instant. It certainly wouldn’t pierce anything, but with the bigger area of impact…combined with a new reckless plan, there wouldn’t be any need to.

He smiled and took towards the air.

“Uhh, Teba???” Harth yelled as he saw his friend approach, flying closer with a flaming book arrow in his beak. “What are you— fuck! Ay! Over here, princess!” Harth tugged at the Wizzrobe’s robe, luring its face towards Teba.

He couldn’t talk with the arrow and piece of flaming historical documentation in his beak, but he cocked his head in such a way to signal to Harth to turn.

“But?! Its face!” A fierce shake of his head in response. “Dammit Teba!”

Harth soared around the creature in a semicircle, avoiding its bursts of ice that make the feathers on his neck puff. The Wizzrobe turned to wave its wand, it’s backside now exposed to Teba.

The warrior quickly unslung his quiver and threw the leather strap around its neck, the weight of the arrows falling on the other side towards its chin.

“TEBA WHAT THE FUCK!?”

The Wizzrobe halted its midair dance, turning in the direction that the new weight had come from. The Blizzard Rod was already starting to glow.

“That’s right!” Teba shouted, as he took the flaming book arrow out of his beak. “Show me that ugly grin of yours!”

He gave one last flap of his wings before letting gravity take him, nocking the arrow on the Swallow Bow. As predicted, he couldn’t fully compensate for the difference in the bow.

Its weight was all different, the string strength was all wrong, the grip was much more loose than he’d have preferred—

Through the haze of snow, and paper, and his own pale feathers, the Wizzrobe’s shining grin greeted Teba in full.

White on white.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Catch!”

The arrow loosed.

The flaming book seemed to soar in slow motion, or perhaps that was just on account of its weight. It arched high, nearly on path to connect with the creatures gleaming teeth, but the strength just wasn’t there and it bowed lower still to the Wizzrobe’s neck.

FWOOSH!

The journal was destroyed on impact, paper glowing and fluttering. The creatures’ attire was set alight, but all it did was laugh like it was an inconvenience. Like a party trick it had already gotten tired off. It started to try and pat itself down, but…

“Let’s see you laugh now, bastard.”

The quiver’s leather wouldn’t catch on its own given its natural resistance. But with the flutter of dried parchment…

All it took was one fiery page, and the arrows caught. The Wizzrobe suddenly suddenly shrieked, but the sound was muffled and cut off by sputtering and the sound of what Teba could only assume was suffocation. The bundle of arrows glowed like a campfire, the flames engulfing the creature's neck and already licking at its face. It attempted to remove the quiver wrapped around it with both arms, tossing the Blizzard Rod into the air in panic, but it was already too late.

The giant necklace of kindling roared in the Wizzrobe’s face, and in seconds, the icy beast was reduced to mist. The wind its grave, as the last of its magical robe rippled in the night.

Teba landed on the ground, eyes bright with unexpected happiness as he cheered.

“WOOOOO! Did you see that!?! I can’t believe that worked holy fucking shit, take THAT asshole.” He shouted into the air with a rare show of relief. THANK YOU Champion Revali and that Hylian knight arsonist! Gods, who knew reading would be so—”

“ROD!”

“Wh—” Teba turned in time to see Harth flapping towards him. But closer still, Teba saw the blur of the Blizzard Rod falling through the air, just seconds away from impacting the ground.

Hmm…

Gravity surely wouldn’t simulate the effects of waving a magic ice wand around, right?

SHING!

Fuck.

A burst of ice exploded from the rod’s impact, Harth slammed into Teba just as he could feel the cold travel to the tips of his wings.

The two Rito crashed into the snow, and Teba was able to taste the delicious flavours of snow, stone, and dirt for the second time. He propped himself up with a wing that was now faintly aching. He had a bit of a coughing fit, as Harth got up.

“Teba…” he trailed off, still in a bit of shock. “Wh…Where the hell’d you get a crazy idea like that from?”

The warrior had the strength to shrug with one shoulder. “New hobby?”

Harth playfully shoved Teba back into the snow as they both laughed.

Teba stared up at the frozen sky. It was already fading blue, the brink of night and day tipping towards a yet unseen sun.

That wasn’t so bad. Just a few arrows, a quiver, a book, and we’ve got justice for our village. If we hurry we can make it back before breakfast and Kaneli’s none the wiser.

Harth stood over him and offered a wing. “Alright, let’s go grab your bow and get out of here. I think I can feel my tail feathers freezing off.”

Teba shivered, reaching out to get up. “Yeah, no kidding. It’s almost like it—GUH!” He crumpled to his knees.

“Teba!” Harth propped up his back as he went to inspect him. He gasped when he saw his wing.

The black feather accents were laced with ice, the very tips of his wing were already starting to become glassy and stiff. Teba held back a yelp as he felt the ice grow further up his wing.

“Oh shitshitshit, that Blizzard Rod still got you.” Harth frantically went to remove a piece of cloth from his armour to wrap it around the ice. “Try to keep that warm. Uh. The mountain lodge is nearby, maybe we can get a blanket? Oh shitshitshit….”

Teba mumbled something incoherent as he felt the ice grow further.

“Guh… We can just keep this incident between us like planned, yeah? Kaneli is gonna be pissed that I blew up his quiver.’”

“Idiot! Get on my back, you could lose a wing!”

“It’s not as bad as it looks. I could probably still fly.”

“Your feathers are snapping off, fuckface!”

Harth tried to get Teba to stand, but stopped when he started to hiss in pain. The cold on his left wing was starting to course through his whole body, and he shivered.

“Ok, ok. Maybe it’ll warm up when I get in the air. I’ll just start flapping a lot to keep the blood flowing. That’s how that works, right?”

“At that rate, you’ll not only be brainless, but wingless too.” A sudden voice echoed.

The boys looked up to see a set of pink feathers descend from the air. Harth’s eyes glowed with both immense relief and confusion.

“Thank Hylia, Saki….wait, what are you doing here, I—”

“Shhhhh…” Saki took out a sword, causing further confusion and shock to come to the boys. “All you need to know for now is that I was by the Hebra Trailhead Lodge when I heard a commotion that I can only assume you two fools caused.” She tried to press the blade against the ice on Teba’s wing.

Teba’s eyes darted between Harth and Saki. The feathers nearly everywhere on him but his left wing started to puff up given how close she was. He could smell a mix of nutmeg and warm safflina from her.

“I…uh…” Teba was rapped in the head with the broad side of Saki’s sword. “Ah! Hey—”

“Don’t move, before I decide on amputation.” Both of the warrior’s eyes widened. “Just joking! Ahaha… for now anyway.” Her cute little chuckle echoed in the air.

Saki finally put down the blade. She shook her head, the curls of her hair bouncing above her shoulders. “It’s already too strong to scrape off.” Harth’s head was turning left and right above them, like a child trying to get a peak of the action. Digging through the satchel on her shoulder, Saki took out a few heads of sunshrooms.

“Hold these, we don’t want that ice magic seeping in any further. It can spread to the blood faster than you think.” Teba’s beak was still agape when he obliged.

The pink colored Rito gave him a soft smile as she tucked a wing under his neck. She expertly flipped the Feathered Edge in her wing, so that it’s blunt side was aimed at Teba,

“Now, if your muscles move and contract any more, it’s just gonna cause any of the ice inside there to snap, effectively paralyzing you. We need to make sure there's no chance of that happening.”

Saki leaned down and pressed her head against Teba’s for a moment, planting the Rito equivalent of a peck on the cheek. “Take that as my premature apology.” Saki said. And that was the last thing he heard before he saw the swing of the blade’s hilt and everything went black.

- - - - -

Teba awoke with the sun in his eyes. He blinked, adjusting his gaze before identifying a blur of pink feathers in front of him.

“—and no doubt they’ve discovered you’re missing by now if she hasn’t said anything already. I’d fly back myself to inform the elders, but…” She trailed off, fiddling with the bandage.

“I could do it. You’ve probably already got your plate full with—gah!” A broad side of a Feathered Edge whacked Harth’s head.

“No. You need to keep that cut warm and toasty and uninfected. This bind won’t hold in those strong winds, and we can’t have the Tabantha skies blowing dust and grime into it.” Saki used her blade to cut the excess bandage on Harth’s neck, to which he slightly gulped.

Teba tried to sit up from where he lay. The Hylian style bed creaked under his shifting, and he muttered something about missing hammocks.

Saki suddenly stood, eyes lighting up to see Teba. “Oh good! You’re awake, let’s see how you’re doing.” She rushed to hold his wing, to which his heart immediately jumped into his throat.

“Saki, I—” Teba attempted to be articulate, but was distracted by the tenderness of her touch, and the sudden sweet smell of nutmeg and vanilla in the air.

“Stop moving your wing, Teba.” Saki examined all sides of his wing with a practiced eye. “I made the elixir in time to counter any frostbite, but you should still rest for at least another hour to make sure all the ice inside is truly melted.”

He couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. “You…remember my name?” It had been a few weeks since he had last seen her in the village infirmary. Usually he only saw the older doctors tending to patients.

“Well of course.” Saki cocked her head and gave him a warm smile. “I remember all my stupid patients.”

“Am I included?”

“Yes, Harth.”

“Nice.”

Teba’s eyes widened when she unsheathed her blade again. So much was happening so fast that surely if he wasn’t coddled in bed right now, he’d be snapping bones from the whiplash.

Saki held the metal near his wing. “The ice on your coat has softened by now, so I’ll just scrape it off,” Her blade gleamed with her bright smile. “Stay still!”

The warrior’s eyes continued to flicker between his wing, the blade, Saki, and Harth. Looking out the window, he saw the crisp blue sky glowing above a now serene and pleasant white snowfield.

“I don’t understand. Where…how long have….” He trailed off, but looked back at Saki. “What are you doing here?”

Saki stopped for a moment. “I…” Her shoulders sagged a bit as she paused. “Well…I know the elders said not to engage with the Wizzrobe incident. But…” She fixed her eyes on his wing.

“I’m a part of this village, and I care about its people. Those who are hurt, were hurt, or could be. I don’t like standing by when I could be helping.”

She looked back up and met his gaze. A pleasant blue that greeted the sun. “You understand, right? ‘We risk our lives everyday, might as well use it for something worthwhile.’ That’s the excuse you told me when I first met you.” She brushed a feather under one of his eyes. “Although, you were half unconscious, so I don’t blame you if you forgot. So anyhow! I stayed here in case any travelers came by with wounds or injuries. Keeps my heart at ease rather than just cooping up at home.”

Saki went back to removing the thin bits of ice on his wing, humming to herself. Teba savored the moment for what felt like a century, heart fluttering every time she glanced up to check on him.

Harth finally quipped in, tone playful. “Guess you’ve pretty much got the same mindset as us “fools,” eh, Ms. Saki?” He kicked back in his chair and crossed a leg over his knee. “Birds of a feather….heh.”

Saki snapped her head around to glare at Harth. “Actually,” the tone could cut steel, “The difference here, is that I had the common sense to not go out looking for a fight. I had the basic logic to understand that fighting a monster on its own turf would be reckless and idiotic. I had the brains to gather further supplies than a mere five fire arrows. And I actually had the decency to inform someone of my whereabouts should anything unexpected happen, rather than having the arrogance to think things would always go according to my own plans.”

She sighed again. “I hate to make Amali worry, but I’d rather stay here to look after you two while she informs someone to come pick you both up.”

Harth shut his trap real quick after that, to which Teba would have probably laughed if he wasn’t also scared of the possibility of getting the same treatment from her.

After a few more minutes, Saki finally finished up and patted his wing. Teba mustered enough courage to speak.

“Thank you…for everything.” He tried to prop himself up in the bed. “I can probably fly back in this condition. Kaneli’s probably gonna kill me twice over if I don’t get back soon.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to piss daddy off,” Harth snickered.

“Fuck off, Harth.” Teba and Saki quipped simultaneously. Teba however, was a bit taken aback by how calmly and sweetly she had spoken. The thoughts were knocked out of his brain when Saki rapped his skull with her blade again. “Ow! Would you—”

Saki pointed the blade at his throat. She was so close he was sure she could hear his heartbeat fast…and it wasn’t just from fear.

“Firstly, no. Neither of you boys will be leaving anytime soon so long as I’m here. You will be staying in bed,” she glared at Harth, but kept the blade on Teba, “And you will be keeping your tail feathers glued in that chair.” Saki turned back to Teba with a sweet smile.

“You will be staying here for the next eight hours, not so much as scratching the tiniest itch on that wing. Then, when someone comes here to pick you both up like I discussed, you will keep seeing me for at least another two weeks so I can monitor your injury. And perhaps when that’s all done, I will think about baking you a pie in celebration of your heroic feat tonight.”

She pressed the Feathered Edge a bit closer to his throat. “However, if this turn of events does not come into fruition…let’s say, if for some completely silly reason either of you decided to leave this cabin and fly home, well. I will just have to make sure to give you a reason to stay bedridden for another month. Do I make myself clear, warriors?”

The boys nodded as quickly as they could.

“Wonderful! I’m so glad we’re on the same page!” Saki's smile and tone was so quiet and sweet as she sheathed her blade once more.

Teba could still feel his heart thumping against his chest. There was a pleasant silence as the lodge was filled with the crackling of fire, and the occasional chirp of a morning bird. He stared at the way Saki’s eyes dazzled like a delicate sky.

Saki clicked her tongue. “Oh you poor thing. You’re still freezing aren’t you? Your feathers are all ruffled up.”

On instinct, the feathers on his neck—and pretty much everywhere else over—puffed up. “UH. Oh! Yeah. Cold. Very cold…yes.” He looked away and started coughing. Saki got up to get something by the fireplace, while Harth did his best to hide his snickering. Teba silently mouthed “help me” to Harth, which only further hindered his attempts to hide a laugh.

The pink Rito flashed one last pleasant smile at the two of them as she made her back towards the door. “Alright, I’m just gonna grab the firewood outside so I’ll be back in a moment. You’ll be alright, right? Nothing’s still aching or anything?”

Even muscle in Teba’s body seemed to melt at the way she curiously cocked her head to the side with a smile. The best he could do was mumbled out his thoughts before he had the chance to think them through.

“With you looking at—after me, I think I’ll be fine.”

Saki chuckled and Teba felt a combined feeling of pride and embarrassment. As she closed the door, Harth looked back at him.

“Very smooth. Quite the wordsmith.”

“Shut it, fuckface.”

- - - - -

TWO WEEKS LATER.

“What do you want?”

The doctor grumbled rudely as Teba did his best to not seem like a complete idiot. “Uh…Saki?”

“You want Saki?”

His mind shifted to a daydream. “Yeah…” Whenever her name was mentioned he couldn’t help but smile, but that fell away when he snapped back to reality. “WAIT, I mean— no. I don’t want— I mean not no, I just didn’t mean it like— I just.” Teba grumbled some more. “Where she is. I want where she is, or… need. I don’t want. I’ve never wanted— I just need the location. Her location, currently. Which is not here. Where is she. Please…”

Teba put on his best smile despite the fact that he felt like his body was suddenly on fire. Perhaps that was a habit learned from the Wizzrobe incident.

The doctor shook her head. “Kids and their incoherent rambling— She's coming back from Slippery Falcon last I checked. Baking another Get-Well-Soon fish pie, I assume.”

“Ah, great! That’s fantastic. Yes. Yeah! Great. Thank you so much, Una—”

“Get out already, Teba. This place is for the sick and injured. Not the…” she glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, “awkward, and alive. Both of which are actually quite surprising to see from you…”

He managed to give a weak mix of a scoff and a nervous laugh before promptly leaving.

Descending the many steps of Rito village, Teba’s mind raced with thoughts.

Just gotta not fuck up one conversation. Just a simple question! Just...quick little hang out...thing. Yeah. Yep. I can do that. She’s seen me blabber worse when I’m unconscious, so what’s one sober conversation. I’ve killed things! Why am I even stumbling over a few words? Tsk. Yeah. I’ve seen monsters and beasts and blood and blades, I've got this. This is doable, I can do this.

He suddenly bumped into a pink colored Rito at one of the turns, and she laughed as she fumbled with the honeycomb and butter held in her arms.

“Oh my! Well, good morning, Teba.”

I can’t do this.

“And where are you off to this lovely morning?” Saki tilted her head curiously, to which Teba’s eyes immediately dilated.

“…uh…I…” Was it just him or were her feathers slightly fluffier than usual? “I just wanted to…say hi.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Well.” She gave him a cheerful wave with a free wing, clutching her ingredients close to her chest. “Hi!”

“Y-Yeah. Hi…” Teba just stood there as Saki continued walking up the stairs behind him.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck do something, idiot I don’t have—

“Actually Teba…” Saki suddenly turned back around to face him. He quickly leaned a wing against the railing to seem casual. “If you’re not doing anything right now…do you mind helping me with something?”

Teba felt like he responded just a bit too quick. “Yes! Definitely. I can do that.” He coughed, and held out a wing. “You want me to hold something for you?”

She beamed. “Yes! Come on.” She shifted her baking ingredients in one wing, and used her free wing to hold his. Saki dragged him along as their feathers intertwined. Teba’s soul immediately left the mortal realm and his physical body was left stumbling and sputtering.

“WAIT! I—I DIDN’T MEAN! UH—I MEAN SURE— IF YOU’RE OK—BUT THIS ISN’T—”

“I have something heating up upstairs, so hurry along now.” She spoke quickly, not really having the extra confidence to look him in the eyes. But at this point they could both feel each other’s feathers poof as they held wings.

Carrying a mix of honey, Tabantha wheat, and butter, they both eventually made their way to the public kitchen where a fire was roaring.

Teba started grumbling apologies, but Saki cut him off by shoving a wood spoon and a bowl into his chest.

“Your rebellious nature won’t apply to cookbooks, yes?”

And with that, they got to it. Teba’s mind was still processing the events of fifteen minutes ago so while he stared blankly at Saki, he struggled to do the basic task of mixing.

“Here,” she held his wing and adjusted his grip on the spoon. If she wasn’t a pink Rito she might have blushed. “Try not to fling the batter out the window.”

They both started to gain just a bit more confidence as they continued working. Teba started to tease Saki a bit as he held the bowl with the salmon filling above her.

“What’s one little taste? It’s all gonna be eaten at the end, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare, it’s still raw!”

“Just one little dip.”

“If you stick one dirty little feather in that bowl I swear I’ll—”

Teba continued trying to dance around her, but she eventually got it back after a quick whack in the head with a spoon.

The morning flew above them, and the shades of a blue day were laced with clouds of white. The shadows of the hut spun across the floor like a spell. Eventually, the aroma of savoury fish with hints of butter filled the air. Teba grabbed a fork.

“This Get-Well pie was for me, yeah? So let me just—” Saki slapped his wing.

“Not yet, gosh.” She stole his utensil. “You forgot the most important part!”

Saki pressed the edge of the fork on the plain face of the fish pie, giving the little fishy a simple, honest grin.

“There!”

“That’s a bit creepy.”

“What?! No…it’s cute! A joyful little fish!”

“You know that this is just gonna be decapitated by me, yeah?”

“It’s about the sentiment, Teba. Hush.”

True to his word, Teba used a knife to take the first bite, decapitating the little creature. Stuffing his beak, his eyes immediately lit up. The flaky crust paired perfectly with the soft meat, the taste and texture beyond amazing.

Saki tilted her head, curious. “Well? How is it?”

“Mmmbfhbgm. Myeah. Yum.”

She clapped. “Oh I’m glad! I actually ignored the ratio a bit and put a bit more butter, so it’s good that that worked out.”

“What happened to following the instructions and rules?”

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her wings over her chest, playfully. “I don’t know… What happened to that priceless journal from Master Revali that was found to be missing from records a few days ago?”

“Damn. Fair enough, then.”

Saki suddenly gasped. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry I completely forgot about the time. You usually sneak off to practice Master Revali’s techniques by now, don’t you?” She went to grab a napkin. “Here, you can wrap this up and take it to the Flight Range, I didn’t mean to keep you for so—”

Teba went to grab one of her wings. “Hey hey! It’s ok. I’m still supposed to keep off the wing anyway, right?”

Saki scoffed, but didn’t pull away. “Oh, like you’ve been following that…”

“Better late than never?”

“Mhmm…”

Teba finally let go, and they stood in front of each other for a bit. Saki played with the curls of her hair, avoiding his gaze. Teba felt his feathers fluff up again, as he mumbled something.

“Hmm?” She looked up.

“Oh. I…didn’t say anything.”

“Ah, Right.” She looked away.

Fuck.

The warrior struggled to find the right words. In an effort to do anything but stay silent, he went to hold her wing again. Both of their feathers immediately floofed in response.

“S-Sorry. I should have—”

“No, it’s alright.” She kept his grip. “It’s alright.”

They both looked in opposite directions, Teba coughed again while Saki fiddled with her hair. The warrior continued screaming in his own mind, begging for some form of suitable and understandable words to come out of his beak. When he turned to speak, Saki cut him off with a soft smile.

“You know, Teba. You don’t have to say anything.”

His beak opened and closed for a few moments, confused. Finally he settled on his thoughts. “Can I try?”

She nodded. “If you really want to.”

Saki wrapped her wings around his shoulders, looking up at him expectantly. When he looked into her eyes, all he could feel was the embrace of a summer’s wind. It was blue. Cerulean. Perhaps teal, or a comparison of sapphire. There was a romantic simile in the world somewhere that he didn’t bother to find.

This close, he could see her eyes dilate, and count small imperfections on her beak. Teba stood as still as ice, before breathing out a bit in relief. He allowed himself to smile, and held her hips and swayed to some unknown rippling melody. Perhaps for just this moment, he accepted it. His words didn’t matter as his gaze lit up sweet and gold and honey. Finally, as they swayed and danced in warmth, the sun to the sky said,

“You look nice.”

#reblogs appreciated!#Teba: I'm gonna go get justice for my village so that no one else gets hurt!#Also Teba: *nearly dies on multiple occasions*#Teba is just the 'this is fine' meme and i love him for it #botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #botw fanfiction #teba x saki #tebasaki #yes the fried chicken couple #teba #saki #saki botw #harth #harth botw #teba botw #botw gift exchange

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critical-ramblings · 5 years ago

Text

Hunger Games AU

It has to be a Quarter Quell, because there's too much trauma in these assholes to be fresh to the Games. Instead, each of them are victors of their different years.

None of them expected it to be Bren. He was maybe the smartest of them, but the softest too. In the 64th Hunger Games, Bren Ermendrud won with a fire-trap that worked too well. He netted the highest kill-count in that game, with six tributes caught in the blaze. Including his teammates, which everyone in the Capitol assumes was on purpose.

Fjord is from the same district as Finnick (4), and honestly won his Games the same way. He was always popular in the Capitol, with a talented stylist that made his unusual skin condition a feature rather than a flaw. They would always say his patron was Uk'otoa, though, a reclusive millionaire who appears only at events with Fjord on his arm.

Yasha is a Victor from District 9, which we don't know much about except that it produces most of Panem's grain. (Wide open spaces and green-tinted storms are her life blood). She was always big and, in her Games, brutal, but often claims not to remember much of it. She is one of the most reclusive of the Victors, rarely making appearances and even more rarely escaping them without bloodshed. Capitol parties learned not to make invitations that couldn't be refused--not if they wanted the building to be standing afterwards.

The one exception to this was always Obann, who bought her the greatsword she used to dismember a great many tributes in the arena. He delights in using that debt to make her behave, but even he knows not to do it very often.

I'm not quite sure what to do with Molly. I mean, it was Lucien who won the Games. And Lucien was a trickster, who won by poisoning the last two other tributes who thought they had him outnumbered. Molly has only existed for two years, and the whispers in the Capitol are that he's even more reckless than his last self. Originally from District 8 (the textile district), he is not open about what led to his adopting the Mollymauk persona. The only clue is in his total absence from Capitol gossip for several months...

Nott won her Games by dying. Or, almost. She was caught by a Pack of Careers, all of them laughing as they each took a wrist or ankle and held her down in the water. She claims it wasn't her who set off the Gamemaker trap that turned the water to acid--but the truth is somehow she didn't die of it, and the Pack did. Requiring one of the most extensive reconstructions the Capitol is capable of, they did not consult her on....any of the choices they made. Trapped in what the Capitol thought of as a body worthy of a Victor, she shuns public appearances and even mentoring later tributes from her district (11).

Caduceus won his Games like all the rest of them. He's got just as much blood on his hands--and it's not that he won't admit it. He just took a different relationship to death than most. Originally from District 12, he lost his family in a mine collapse and only swore he'd follow them. He was 18 when he was chosen for the Games, almost clear. Almost in the clear.

He was never angry at the other tributes. It was what set him apart, in all the videos. A cold calm when he beat someone over the head with a long stick, a hum almost like a lullaby when he came across a tribute already dying.

He doesn't make many appearances, and frankly makes for bad viewing by Capitol standards. Mostly they leave him alone now, him and his garden alone in Victor's Village. That is, until Beau comes along.

Beau is the closest to the Mockingjay as you can get. She's scraping herself out of a bad homelife in the townie part of District 12, her family well off but just as shitty as canon. She's more than ready to die in the Games, if only it wouldn't make TJ sad. He's a little older here, she knows him a little more. Even knowing what he is--her replacement, an actual son--she sneaks him cookies when no one's looking and is in general a terrible influence.

She and Jester are in the same Games. They're not from the same district, but they're just as star-crossed as any canon couple.

The boy tribute from her district is Bryce. They shrug when Beau might have asked if a mistake was made, because Bryce had always been stuck on kid-watching duty like her.

They both know better than to get attached.

Jester is a pampered daughter from District 1, her only public appearance being the Reaping once a year. And even then she's usually lost in the crowd. Until the year she plays that prank on Mr. Sharpe, who might not be a Gamemaker himself, but he knows people. And when her name gets drawn, she's still not afraid, because District 1 is full of people who want to go to the Hunger Games. Who want all that blood and glory.

but the stands are silent. She doesn't even stand up at first, just looks around waiting to see who'll volunteer.

A Peacekeeper in sparkling white has to come down to her row and hold out a hand, beckoning her forward, before it starts to sink in. Jester spins around to look for her mother, up in a box with a good view like always. Marion is holding a handkerchief over her mouth, one hand clutching the railing like she's about to leap over. but she doesn't.

Slowly, amidst the growing whispers and snickers, Jester gets to her feet. She looks around at the other girls, separated into age-groups by tiers. All of them are staring at her. Some of them are hungry, some are pitying. Some are sneering, scoffing at her hesitation.

Jester swallows. Twice. Then she straightens her shoulders, smiles up at her Mama, and takes the Peacekeeper's hand with all the grace of a princess.

Lorenzo is the male tribute from her district.

#cr #critical role #hunger games au #beaujester #beaujester sequel post coming soon #long post

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goldandbluesmiles · 5 years ago

Text

Heading Towards Something Good

Summary: Damian, Father, Family and Affection

Notes: Based on this prompt by @just-an-aussie-otaku Hope I did it justice.

Ao3

XXX

The relationship between Damian, his family, and affection was...unnamable at best.

The League had not been big on displays of affection, praise had been sparse and the only positive touch had been after a job well done. Jobs that had let Damian empty and hollowed out. His mother had tried, but in keeping the balance between keeping her father happy and keeping her son safe, his mother had let normal child-rearing slide.

It was probably why she had sent him to Gotham.

When he had first come to the manor, he had been distant from his family. Then his father had died and the emotions that he had tried to keep a lid on had exploded around him.

And there had been Grayson.

Grayson, who had sat up with him at night, even when he had acted terribly to the older man.

Grayson, who had given him hugs and ruffled his hair even when he had threatened to stab him.

Grayson, who had ostracized one of his brothers for him. Damian himself might not like Drake but he knew how much he meant to Grayson and how much it had hurt the man to drive him away to look after Damian.

Grayson had given him unconditional love even though Damian had made it extremely hard for him.

And now Grayson wasn't there anymore.

He wasn't gone per se. Bludhaven was only half an hour away after all, and Damian could not begrudge him his own life. Damian was also quite glad to get to know his father alone.

However, Grayson's absence was felt. Especially on nights when Damian felt like peeling his skin off.

Grayson had always had an infinity for knowing when Damian needed him. And while Father was there now, he had no such instinct. They simply did not know each other enough.

The only way for Damian to get anything out of him would be to ask.

And really, he'd rather just take comfort from the dark.

xxx

Damian might not have had much training as a Bat but he had more than enough as an Assassin. He thinks that maybe his family had forgotten that sometimes, especially during the time his father was lost in the time stream.

Damian had started to silently creep around the house at night and none of the present occupants of the house had ever caught him. It had allowed him to hear conversations and exchanges he wouldn't have usually been privy to.

One of the first ones he had heard had taken place three weeks after Father's disappearance.

"I don't know what to do Wally, it's just so hard. I don't know how Bruce used to do take care of little me- Yeah okay, I guess he wasn't grieving at the time but still-"

If Richard and Alfred ever figured out that he overheard their conversation they had never shown. Hearing them had given him a new perspective on the first Robin, it had allowed him to appreciate what the older man was doing for him and had brought them closer.

It was this closeness that had allowed him to learn more about the kind of man his father was. Richard had told him stories of how in the beginning he had practically forced tactile affection on the repressed man. By the time Jason had come along, Father had been so well conditioned by his eldest that he had reached out on his own. Both he and his young ward had been at an uneasy middle until Jason had finally succumbed to the comfort. Post-death Jason had a relationship that consisted of barbs and retorts underlined with the care that existed years ago. Drake had been different, he had had parents and Father had been grieving, but eventually, they had been headed to a sort to a resolution that had picked up now that Father was back. Cassandra and Father had their own language, consisting of silent looks and precise movements. Stephanie and Barbara were not his children but they both had history and respect with him.

Damian had no idea what he had with Father.

"He'll want something with you too," Richard had said a little while after the original Batman had shown back up.

Damian had not answered him but that statement was the reason that he found himself slinking down the hallway towards Father's room.

Tonight was not a good night. It was the kind of night that made him want to silently scream, made the glass shards inside of him scrape at his sides and made the insistent buzzing in his head loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

It was the kind of night that Richard would have held him to sleep.

But Richard was in Bludhaven. And Father was just in reach.

The door was open. A few more steps and Father would surely notice him.

For a second, just a second, Damian consider just turning back to his room and forcing himself to go to sleep. However, the idea of being alone in his room again made him want to be violently ill.

By God, Richard had spoiled him. He had never had this problem with the League.

Making up his mind, Damian went forward until he was standing on the doorway to Father's room. The man was sitting up in bed and seemed to be looking at some papers with WE logo on them. It took him almost a minute to look up from them but when he did, his eyes alight with curiosity.

"Damian?" he asked

Feeling a bit panicked he blurted out the first that came to mind.

"Father, I need affection,"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Damian felt his whole body grow still and cold. This was not how he was supposed to say that! He looked pathetic! Father was going to think-

Except.

Except that Father merely raises his arm outwards, a clear invitation to sit with him. Refusing to overthink, Damian moved until he was in the circle of his father's arm. Once he was there, the older man bodily hauled him onto the bed. The reports were moved around until there was enough room for Damian to curl up in Father's lap, right against his chest.

"Oh, baby," said Father, once Damian was settled in his arms, "You only have to ask. I know I'm not good at noticing when you kids need something like this and I try to be better at it. But Damian if I don't notice, please ask if you need me,"

Damian nodded against the older man's chest and his father gently kissed his temple.

"Do you want me to turn off the light or is it okay for me to continue reading?"

"It's alright," murmured, already starting to get hazy. Father was warmer then Richard and while Richard's hugs had been tight and soothing, Father's was all-encompassing and safe.

Damian fell asleep as the glass inside carefully receded and his skin finally felt right again.

xxx

After that small incident, Damian became much more comfortable asking his Father for what he needed.

He even used the same line he did the first night. It never failed to make Father's lips twitch up in a smile.

Usually, they were alone when Damian asked. Just before school in the morning, the study or the lounge in the evenings, their rare lunches together, sometimes in the Batcave after patrol.

But they were always alone. Then came the day when Richard was over. School had been long and tedious. Homework had taken more energy than he had anticipated. All he wanted was to curl up with Father and just spend the evening in his company, however, it happened.

He first checked the study. Father was not there. The next place to look was in the lounge. Damian did find Father there, lying horizontally on the couch, book in his hand. However, he was not alone. Richard was there too, working on his laptop. He hadn't called Damian before coming over which meant the decision was last minute.

Damian contemplated just going to Richard and sitting with him the way they used to. However, his older brother looked busy and Damian was surprised to find that he wanted to sit with Father. Not just because he was the only option, but because it was honestly soothing.

Mind made up, Damian walked over to Father and stood by him with his arms crossed.

"Father, I need affection,"

In response, the older man raised his arm without taking his eyes off the book he was reading. Damian ducked under it and ended up laying on top of his father, head pillowed on his chest.

Damian knew Richard was watching them but with the way his muscles were uncoiling, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Dick, for his part, hid his shock pretty well. On the inside, he was squealing in delight but he kept his composure, occasionally sneaking glances at Bruce and Damian. Bruce kept reading his book and Damian seemed to be texting someone. After every few minutes, Bruce gently stroked a hand through Damian's hair and give his temple a kiss.

So Adorable.

Dick discreetly took a picture. Damian obviously didn't notice and if Bruce did, he didn't say anything.

The picture was later sent to everyone he knew.

And if Damian internally smiled at the copy he was shown by Selina...well no one needed to know.

xxx

Tim and Bruce were sitting in the cave working on their perspective reports when Damian walked to them. Tim side-eyes him, surprised to see the boy in his civilian clothing. Most of them tried to keep both lives separate and Damian especially never stayed in the cave in his civies.

He was even more surprised when Damian climbed into Bruce's lap. There were no words spoken, no indication. He just climbed up there and started reading the case file along with Bruce.

And Bruce. Just did nothing. He just let him sit there.

Had Tim missed something? When had these two gotten so comfortable? He'd seen the picture but this-? And since when did Bruce let people that close to him?

Tim himself was rarely on the receiving end of the closeness.

As soon as Tim had that thought, he regretted it. He knew from stories that Bruce had been a different man before Jason's death. His relationship with Cass was good. Tim had been unfortunate with his timing. At first, they were just professionally linked and by the time he had been adopted, they had had a habit neither one had taken the time to break.

Tim couldn't begrudge the man trying to have a better relationship with the child he never knew he had. He just wished watching it didn't make him feel a little hollow inside.

Still, as the even went on Tim couldn't help but feel a little happy about it too. He loved his family and both of them deserved this.

And anyway it wasn't as if his relationship with Bruce was lacking any love. He was especially reminded of this later on patrol when Batman bought Red Robin his favourite shake 'just because'

xxx

Jason was halfway out the door when he realized he didn't have his keys with him.

Damn it.

This is what happened when he came to the manor as Jason Todd and got comfortable. He started acting like a normal human being instead of the paranoid and cautious bat he was supposed to be.

It's good to keep them separate. You can be just Jason too, son.

And that was Bruce's voice in his head.

Jesus Christ. He really needed to get out of here and get drunk with Roy. Maybe Kori could be persuaded to come too.

He headed to the TV room and was treated to a lightly odd but admittedly adorable sight. Bruce was sitting on the couch with Damian in his lap, both of them fast asleep and snoring lightly with their mouths open. Cassandra was also there leaning into Bruce's side, looking sleepy but awake.

Jason let his lips twitch up at one side and grabbed a blanket from the armchair. He spread it over Bruce and his siblings. Bruce and Damian barely stirred but Cass smiled at him and mouthed 'Thank you'.

Jason gave her a salute, grabbed his keys from the table and headed out again, a little more bounce in his steps.

Later when Roy asked him why he was smiling like a moronic sap, he just grinned harder and pushed the other man to the ground.

It's what he deserved.

xxx

"Oh Hey, Bruce-"

Tim entered the living room and was greeted to the sight of Damian, once again, curled up in Bruce's lap. Stephanie was there too, sitting on a different couch and discreetly snapping pictures of the pair.

He had been hoping to get Bruce alone and while he wouldn't mind Stephanie, Damian still had some problem sharing his time with his dad.

"Tim did you need something?" asked Bruce

"Uh, well I was hoping to show you my report but we can do it later. I'll just-"

Before he could walk away, Bruce's voice stopped him.

"Why not now, Tim?"

He turned back to look at Bruce and saw that he was frowning in confusion. Tim didn't know how to tell him that his youngest was most likely to stab him at his intrusion. And the was Stephanie was stifling her laughter wasn't helping either.

Before he could come up with an excuse, however, Damian straightened up and jumped to his feet.

"Father is right, Drake," said Damian, "Putting off work is not a good look. You just reminded me I have a report on my own to finish,"

Tim raised his eyebrow at the boy. Even if Tim hadn't been trained by the Bat, he could have seen the lie from a mile away. Which meant-

He shared a disbelieving look with Stephanie. Had the Batbrat just read the room?

Wonders would never cease.

Tim sat down with Bruce and they carefully started to go over the reports from WE.

As he was sitting, Tim found himself leaning closer and closer to his dad. Finally, he just decided to take a leap of faith and put his head on Bruce's shoulder. Without any hesitation or lull in the conversation, the older man put his arm around Tim, pulling him close and giving his hair a kiss.

Huh. So it was that easy.

Stephanie raised her camera at them, looking at them in amusement.

Tim looked her dead in the eye and, very maturely, stuck his tongue out at her.

The deep sigh from Bruce did not deter either of them.

xxx

Bruce had noticed how comfortable his youngest had become around him and it never ceased to warm his heart.

They were at a gala, Him, Dick, Tim and Damian. It was late into the night but only halfway through the party and Bruce was chatting with a group of socialites. He was in the middle of pretending to find Mrs. Doser's vacation story interesting when he felt a tug at his side. He looked down to find his youngest standing by him and sleepily rubbing his eyes.

Damian didn't say anything but when he looked, Bruce read his face loud and clear even if that wasn't Damian's intention. Without any hesitation, he picked up the young boy and settled him against his shoulder. Damian squirmed a little but in the end, he relaxed under Bruce's gentle coaxing.

Damian was surprised at his Father's actions. At best he had hoped to have some of his Father's attention, at worst be berated or sent away. He had not expected this and could find no reason for it to be happening. But as the night went on and people merely cooed and awed at them, he figured this was just something people did with their children.

He got an image of his mother carrying him after a brutal training session but banished it from his mind. She had done her best and thinking about it wouldn't help.

During a separate incident, Batman was sitting in front of the Batcomputer having a meeting with the core members of the JL. He was in the middle of explaining the budget when Damian marched towards him wearing a mask and completely uncaring of the faces on the computer. As soon as he reached Bruce he jumped into his lap and closed his eyes. He must have been severely sleep-deprived because it only took his moments to fall asleep.

Bruce was torn. On one hand, his sweet, precious baby was sleeping in his lap. On the other hand, the founding members of the JL were still online and only Hal Jordan knew his identity.

In the end, the meeting continued with Batman glaring every time anyone tried to deviate from the subject.

If he smiled at the string of emojis and supportive texts Superman and Wonder Woman sent him on hs secure computer, it was his own secret.

xxx

Damian couldn't sleep and the most frustrating thing was that he couldn't pinpoint the reason. He hadn't gone on patrol and his day had been relatively uneventful.

He just couldn't find sleep.

Damian finally gave up and padded down to the den. He was surprised to find that Richard was there too.

"I guess we had the same idea, huh?" said Richard, sending him a soft smile

A closer look at the older man's face and Damian knew that Richard had a good reason to not be asleep. His eyes were puffy and face a little pale as if he had been crying.

"Couldn't sleep," mumbled Damian

"Same," said Richard waving his arm to invite him over.

Damian went over situated himself beside his older brother leaning slightly against his arm. They sat there in silence for a little while until Father came into the room.

He stopped in the doorway, almost as if he hadn't expected anyone to be down there.

"Boys," boys he murmured sounding tired but awake at the same time

"Hey B,"

"Father,"

"You know what we should do?" asked Father, taking in both their appearances.

Damian was confused by Richard seemed to perk up.

"Pillow fort!" he said

Father smiled, "Pillow fort,"

What followed was one of the most confusing half-an-hour of Damian's life. He hand never made a pillow fort before but he was good at taking directions and arranged blankets, pillows and support as required. When they were finished, they had quite a big tent with pillow walls, blanket roof, and cushions to keep them comfortable.

"Why is it so big?" he asked

As if on cue, Timothy, Stephanie and Cassandra stumbled into the room.

"See, I told you I heard voices," said Stephanie

"Yeah, yeah," said Timothy, "Are you guys making a fort?"

"Yup," said Dick, "Join us! The more the merrier,"

Damian expected himself to feel annoyance at being interrupted but found that he felt...content.

Now wasn't that a thought.

They had just started to arrange themselves when Jason walked in with Duke right behind him.

"Pillow forting without us," said Jason

"That's not a word," mumbled and Timothy, "And there's room,"

"What do you think, kid?" Jason asked Duke, "Should we grace them with our presence?"

Duke grinned, "I don't know about you but that looks comfy,"

"The Duke has spoken," Jason mock cried, "Make room brats,"

They moved around until Father in the middle. Dick and Tim on either side of him and Damian on his lap. Duke curled up across Tim and Father's legs while Jason took the spot opposite of him. Stephanie and Cassandra ended up curled together on the comfy couch behind Father.

"Good Night, everyone," said Father

There were a few mumbled answers as everyone started to nod off surrounded by the comfort of family.

Damian fell asleep with a smile on his face.

The relationship between Damian, his family, and affection was still unnamable. But he liked to think that it was heading toward something good.

#batfamily #batman #batdad #Damian Wayne #Damian al Ghul #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batfamily members

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thetravelerwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Arkag (Part 3) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Human/Male Orc Additional Tags: Exophilia, MLM, Male Reader, Reader Insert, Orc Boyfriend, Adoption Content Warnings: Sex, Gay Sex, Anal Sex, Missing Limb, Flashbacks, Night Terrors, PSTD Words: 4760

The finale to @severedreamerbeard‘s commission! Arkag has trouble accepting the new role in the reader's life, but when a child in the village becomes trapped under a rock fall, he'll have to overcome his own feelings to help her. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

It took four months, but you finally convinced Arkag to move into your much larger shophouse with you. He decided to keep the cabin, though. It was still hard for him to be in the town proper, since he’d lived out in the middle of the forest for years. In addition to his regular woodcutting job, you were slowly reintroducing him to regular society by having him help with the tanning, with which he had a ton of experience. It gave you much more time to finish sewing, and the two of you worked as a team.

Nights together were hot and heavy, and it was better and more satisfying than any of your previous partners. Arkag was not only really good at it, but he loved to talk to you for a long time afterward and cuddle you close to him while he did. He was probably the most talkative when he was in bed than he was anywhere else.

It wasn’t complete bliss, however. The flashbacks took him without warning, usually set off by a sound. The night terrors were worse. He often lashed out in his sleep, inadvertently hurting you once or twice. He was apologetic and guilt ridden whenever this happened, and you had to convince him not to leave and retreat to his cabin. His healing was a process, and there would be bumps, you told him. He always nodded when you said that, but he never seemed convinced.

He was his surliest whenever you came back from hunting. When you returned from your trips out to the woods, whether alone or with a party, he became quiet and distant for a day before returning to his normal self.

One night after coming back, he was standoffish and slept in a spare room. The next morning, you confronted him.

“Why did you sleep in the storage room last night?” You asked him over breakfast. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” He said grumpily. “I just wanted space.”

“Arkag, you’re a creature of habit if ever I knew one,” You said, setting down your spoon. “You only sleep in the storage room when I go hunting. Why? What is it about hunting that pisses you off so much?”

“It’s nothing,” Arkag repeated repressively.

“I don’t believe you,” You said in frustration. “Does me hunting bother you? I’d say that I’d stop hunting, but I can’t. It’s where the majority of our meat and leather comes from. Buying it from a butcher would be too expensive.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing,” Arkag insisted.

You scoffed. “If you have to say ‘it’s nothing,’ that means there is something. Just tell me! I want to help.”

“Just leave me alone!” Arkag said, raising his voice. “I don’t need to share everything with you. Sometimes I just want to be alone! Is that too much to ask!”

“Well, no, of course not!” You assured him. “I just… I love you, Arkag. I just wanted you to know you could come to me with anything that’s bothering you. You’re my partner.”

Arkag snorted. “I’m your employee.”

He said this in an undertone, perhaps thinking you wouldn’t hear him, but you had gotten used to Arkag’s quiet mumblings to the point that you could understand most of it.

“What did you just say?” You asked, shocked. “What do you mean, you’re my employee? What are you talking about?”

“Face reality,” Arkag snarled, standing up from the table and turning to look out the window, avoiding your eye. “I work in your shop, I live in your house, I eat your food. You cook the meals, you make my clothes, you create the products we sell, you hunt our meat, you earn our living. I do the wood and tanning, but it’s not nearly enough to contribute or provide for the both of us. I could barely support myself. I’m a burden to you.”

“What? No, you’re not! I don’t care if you can provide--”

“I do!” Arkag shouted, throwing a mug against the wall and shattering it. “An orc provides! It’s what we do! If we can’t fight, if we can’t protect, we provide! I have nothing to offer you! I’m worth nothing!”

“Arkag, that’s not true! I don’t need you to provide for me! I can provide for myself! I can provide for both of us, and I’m happy to do it! All I want in return is love!”

“You don’t understand! How could you! You’re…” He stopped, scowling and biting his lip.

“I’m what? I’m what, Arkag?” You asked him. “Human? I can’t understand because I’m human? Is that what you’re going to say?”

“It’s not because you’re human,” He said, his voice shaking. “It’s because you’re whole.”

“You’re not broken, Arkag,” You said, but he interrupted you.

“What do you know!” He pushed past you and shrugged on his coat, stomping outside and toward his cottage.

“Fine!” You called after him. “Come back when your pride stops doing your thinking for you!” And you slammed the door after him.

When you stopped being mad, you felt guilty. He was right; there was no way you could begin to fathom what things he had been through since he lost his arm. You knew he’d been ridiculed to the point of exile from his stronghold, was a transient begging by the road side for a time, and then spent around a decade alone in the woods. The mental and emotional toll from not only the trauma of the injury, but also his treatment by his peers and the rough living he’d endure since, must have been terrible.

You sighed. You were walking a fine edge with Arkag. One the one hand, you desperately wanted to help him and you knew that if you left him to his own devices, it’s likely he’d never let himself heal, but pushing him to deal with his problems made him lash out or retreat. His emotional growth was severely stunted, and you knew that.

On the other hand, he couldn’t use his condition or past as an excuse to push you away or act however he liked. His night terrors and flashbacks were one thing; he couldn’t control them. Being an ass for the sake of being an ass was another. His pride was halting any progress he could have been making.

You just wished you knew what to do to help him, but you weren’t sure what else you could do but accept him and be patient.

However, your patience was wearing thin when he didn’t return in three days, so you went out to the cabin to talk to him. He didn’t answer after the first three knocks, but you knew he was in there because you could hear shuffling and the fire was going.

“Let me in, Arkag!” You shouted through the door. “I know you’re in there! I’m not angry anymore, and you can sleep in the spare room all you like. Can we just talk?”

The door opened slowly and Arkag stepped out, closing the door behind him.

“Are you coming back with me?” You asked him. “Good, I was going to make dinner.”

“No, I’m not,” He said. “You’re right, we should talk.”

That didn’t sound good. “Alright. I wanted--”

“No, please,” He said. “Let me go first, or I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it out.”

The bad feeling was getting worse. “Alright, then.”

“Listen,” He started slowly, not meeting your eye. “I think I should move back out here. I’m not being of much help in the shop.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you are. Besides, you don’t have to work in the shop if you don’t want to,” You told him.

“No, I know that, I just think it’s better if I came back out here. Life in town doesn’t suit me.”

“If that’s what you want, of course,” You said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “If it helps you, I don’t mind coming out every day after work to see you.”

“No…” He said, his voice wavering. “You shouldn’t come out here anymore, either.”

“But,” You said with a small, nervous laugh. “How will we see each other?”

He said your name softly, with grave intent, and you knew.

This was it. It was over.

“I’m sorry,” He said with finality, and went back inside, closing the door gently.

You stood there for a full five minutes, staring at the door, listening to the fire crackling inside. You hadn’t heard his footsteps walk away, so he was likely still just on the other side of the door, either waiting for some kind of reaction or for you to leave. You stood your ground, hoping he might come back out and say he hadn’t meant it, that he was just confused and hurting and that he still loved you. But it didn’t happen. Blinded by tears, you finally turned, stumbled off his porch, and began the lonely walk back to your home.

The next month was rough. You stopped taking orders and it took you double the time to finish the ones you already had. Business was suffering, but you didn’t care. You weren’t eating well, and even though you spent a lot of time in bed, you didn’t sleep much. It didn’t help that he still left you firewood in the middle of the night, only twice as much as usual. It was like he was trying to apologize the only way he knew how, but it was just a reminder that he wasn’t there anymore and seeing it every morning just reopened the wound over and over again.

Sometimes, when you were awake at night, you’d hear him leaving the wood and moving on. You had the idea, more than once, to confront him and force him to talk to you, but you knew that wouldn’t solve anything. He would just resent you for ambushing and pressuring him.

You’d had breakups before. This wasn’t like those. This felt like a fragment of your soul was just… gone. A piece of you was missing, but you felt heavy at the same time. The bed was too big for you now. The house was too quiet. There was too much… empty space. The silence of the home pressed into your ears and was excruciating.

The second month was slightly easier, but you were still miserable. You remembered you had a glove you were working on for him. After you finished it, you considered delivering it yourself, but decided to hire a runner to do it instead. Seeing him would hurt too much.

Another month passed, and you knew his birthday was coming up. You counted down the days, and with each day that passed, you wondered if you should make him something or even acknowledge it in any way. When the day came, you made a small cake, but couldn’t bring yourself to eat it. It sat on the dining table until it began to mold.

Five, six, seven months on, and your thoughts still revolved around him in all things. Everything you saw, heard, smelled, reminded you of him. You worried about his state of mind during thunderstorms. During sleepless evenings, you wondered if his night terrors were getting bad again. You stopped eating radishes, something you previously loved, because you knew he hated them.

Life slowly got back to normal. After taking your time off, you got back to work. Winter was fast approaching and you had a lot of orders for new coats. You missed Arkag’s help, but you had always managed before he came along, and as much as you wished it were different, you would manage again.

There was a commotion on the edge of town one day as you were making a delivery: three children ran out of the woods screaming over each other. You stopped them as they nearly streaked past you.

“What’s going on?”

“My sister!” One of them shouted. “We were playing in a shallow cave nearby and it fell in! She’s trapped inside!”

“You two!” You pointed to the others. “Go find help! You!” You said to the brother. “Show me where!”

The two other children ran in the opposite direction as the brother led you to the collapsed cave. You could hear a child crying inside.

“What’s her name?” You asked the boy.

“Eida!” He said, crying.

“Eida!” You called. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“My arm!” She screamed. “My arm is pinned! Help me!”

“Hold on, honey, help is coming!” You cried, starting to move stones out of the way.

“Please don’t let me die!” She sobbed.

“I won’t, honey. I promise I’m going to help you, alright? Hang in there with me. Stay with me!”

The young boy helped by chucking rocks more his size and digging furiously. Several more people from town, including the girl’s mother and father, arrived and began digging, all while the girl under the rubble wailed in pain. The work was slow, fearing that any wrong step or moving the wrong stone would cause the cavity within where the girl was would fall farther, crushing her altogether.

It seemed like hours, but her head was finally uncovered. She was bloodied, but it didn’t appear as if she had a severe head wound. Her mother held her other hand, the one that wasn’t pinned, and whispered assurances to her that she would be alright. Her father was stroking her hair, sobbing along with her.

A few of the volunteers tried to pull her, but as she shrieked in agony, you screamed, “No! Don’t! She’s pinned!”

“Help me! Help me, please! I’m dying!” She cried.

“You’re not going to die, darling,” You told her. “We’re right here, we’ll get you out, I promise. You’re not going to die.”

Her right side was uncovered, but her left was still trapped. Her arm wasn’t visible under the rocks. As they moved the rocks out of the way, they finally got her free… except for her arm. The largest of the rocks was on her arm, and it wasn’t budging. Moreover, every time they tried to move it, she screamed as if she were being murdered.

“We can’t shift it,” One of the men said frantically. “It’s too heavy. She has to lose her arm.”

The crying became more terrified, and you cuffed the man on the ear.

“Nice job, asshole!” You hissed. You looked around you. “Has anyone seen the physician?”

“He wasn't at home when we went to call on him,” Another man said.

“Check again!” You said, taking off. “I’m going to get help!”

You ran through the woods at a full sprint, ignoring the thin branches whipping your face and cutting your skin, vaulting over roots and logs. Soon, the familiar, sweet sight of Arkag’s cabin came into view. You could smell wood burning and saw smoke in the chimney.

You jumped up the steps and banged on his door.

“Arkag!” You shouted, using both fists to rattle the door on it’s frame. “Arkag! Help!”

The door was yanked open and Arkag stood there. He looked disheveled and smelled like he hadn’t bathed in a while; you didn’t care, the sight of him was like a balm for your soul. But you didn’t have time to revel in it.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. “What’s happened?”

“Hurry, we need your help,” You said. “A girl was caught in a rock fall. Her arm has been pinned under a boulder and the other men and I can’t shift it. You’re the strongest man in town. Please come and help her.”

“I…” He gulped and looked away from you. “I don’t think I can.”

You grabbed his collar and forced him to look at you, your face more fierce and angry as it had ever been.

“This is not about you, Arkag,” You told him. “A girl is bleeding to death under a boulder in the woods and we need your help to save her life. Are you going to let her die because you can’t see past your pride?”

He seemed at war with himself, his jaw working, his tusks pressing into his top lip enough to leave an indentation. His face hardened; not in anger but resolve. He shoved his feet into his boots and followed you outside.

“Show me,” He said.

The two of you sprinted back to the rock slide. The people were still there, trying to think up a way to remove the rock, having strung a rope harness across it and trying to find a strong branch to use as a counterpoint. The crying from the girl was getting thinner and more labored.

“Don’t bother with the rope!” Arkag said. “We don’t need to lift it all the way up! We just need to budge it enough to pull her out! The mother, father! When I say, get ready to get her clear!”

The two of them nodded grimly with tears on their faces. The physician had arrived and was assisting the parents in soothing Eida and assessing her other injuries. He waited on his heels, ready to pounce on her arm wound as soon as the rock was off to stem the flow of blood. The likelihood of Eida going into shock was extraordinarily high.

“Everyone get to one side,” Arkag said, bracing his entire left side against the rock and placing his only hand against its surface. “One! Two! Push!”

The people put their full weight into pushing the rock, and, combined with Arkag’s superior orc strength, the boulder moved just enough to snatch the girl out from under it. Her cries rose anew as the jostling and rush of blood back into her arm caused the nerves to reawaken. She was taken away to the physician’s office with a quick step, and the ones who were there who had been helping stood looking at each other, unsure what to do now.

“Drinks?” You offered.

They all nodded both tiredly and enthusiastically and followed you to the pub.

“You too, Arkag,” You said. “You’ve earned a drink.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Come on.”

There were about thirty of you that trudged into the pub, making the barkeep look up in surprise.

“A round on me,” You told him, pushing whatever gold you had in your pocket across the bar. “They’ve all earned it.”

His eyes widened and he nodded, starting to pour mugs two at a time and quickly dispersing them. Arkag took his, downed it quickly, looked around uncomfortably, and headed for the exit.

“Hey,” You called after him.

He stopped and turned toward you, his face hard to read.

“Thanks. For coming.”

He nodded, hesitated another minute, and left.

A few days later, Eida’s father, Daniel, walked into your shop.

“Hello, sir!” You said, dropping what you’re doing. “How can I help you? How’s young Eida?”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here,” He said gravely. “I’m afraid she has lost her right arm above the elbow. The physician said there was no saving it.”

“Oh, my god,” You breathed. “I’m so sorry. How is she holding up?”

“Not well, I fear,” He said. “She’s rather despairing at the moment. She keeps saying that she’s useless and that no man will ever love her. She’s naught but thirteen, but she’s at the age where a girl begins to plan for her future, of course. She can’t imagine finding work in her situation.”

“That’s not true at all,” You said. “There’s plenty of one handed jobs out there. A person could even sew one-handed, and I should know.”

“My wife and I keep trying to tell her that, but she won’t listen to us,” He replied. “I was wondering… that orc fellow who helped us. He’s your friend, right?”

You swallowed a little, but nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you think you could convince him to come and talk to her?” Daniel asked. “He’s a capable man, and I think if she sees someone who’s like her and is self-sufficient, she may not be so hard on herself. I’d go and talk to him myself, but he seems a taciturn fellow and I don’t know if he’d appreciate my visit.”

“I… could certainly try,” You said slowly. “He is a man who likes his space and privacy, but I could try.”

“I would greatly appreciate that, sir,” Daniel said. “I’ll leave you to your work. Thank you for your help.”

“Of course,” You said, and bid him a good day as he left.

Putting down your work, you stood but didn’t leave immediately. You had to steel yourself to see him again. Last time was an emergency and you didn’t have time to deal with your feelings on the matter, but this was different. This would be the first time you talked to him, really talked, in months. You didn’t know how well you’d be able to keep your emotions in check.

Once you reached the clearing that housed his cabin, you found him already outside, chopping wood, having not noticed you. You halted in your steps for a moment, watching him work, marveling at his strength. Then, you took a breath and started forward.

“Arkag,” You said. He was just about to raise the axe when he stopped and looked around at you.

“Oh,” He said softly. “I… I wasn’t expecting you.”

“No, I know, I’m sorry,” You replied. “Daniel, Eida’s father, asked me to come and speak to you.”

“Why?” He asked, setting the axe aside.

You sighed. “Eida has lost her arm.”

“...oh,” He replied, his face distant.

“She’s apparently extremely depressed, saying that she’ll never find work or love, that she’s useless. He wants you to tell her that that isn’t true.”

“I don’t know if I’m the best person to do that,” Arkag said, scratching his neck and looking away.

“Why not?” You asked him. “You have work. It’s modest, but it’s a living. You can take care of yourself. You’re not useless. And as far as love... well…” You shrugged, also looking away. “You know you had that.”

He didn’t answer, and you didn’t look up.

“Just talk to her,” You said, backing away. “I don’t know if you’ll be of any help, but you could try. Don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe you could take a few minutes and think about someone besides yourself.”

Before he could answer, you turned and jogged back toward the trail leading to your home.

Late that night, after you had gone to bed, you heard a loud knocking at your door. On edge, you got up and opened the door to find Arkag standing there. He was pale and looked like he had been crying.

“Can I come in?” He asked plaintively.

“Yes, of course, come in,” You said. “What’s wrong?”

“I talked to Eida,” He said as he came in and sat down at the dining table. “We talked for hours. I told her about how I lost my arm, about the night terrors and flashbacks. About the struggles I’ve had since. I don’t know why I did that, and I thought she’d have been terrified by it, but she seemed… I don’t know, relieved?”

“She’s relieved because she’s not alone, Arkag,” You said, sitting with him.

He wiped his eyes. “I suppose you’re right. We cried together. She asked if she had a bad dream or a flashback, if she could come and talk to me about it. No one’s ever asked me that before. I don’t know why it made me feel better, but it did.”

“That’s good, Arkag,” You said. “That’s very good. But… if you don’t mind my asking, why did you come here to tell me about it? And in the middle of the night.”

He took a big breath and let it out slowly. “We talked about you, too. She asked if anyone had ever loved me like this,” He shrugged his missing arm. “And I said yes. She asked me why we weren’t still together… and I couldn’t answer her. I wanted to believe it’s because the answer was too complicated to explain… but it wasn’t.” His eyes filled with tears as he looked up at you. “I made a mistake. I’m so sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I’m so, so sorry.”

You began to cry, as well. Your heart raced in your chest as you stood up, pulled him from his seat, and kissed him full on the mouth. He reciprocated, putting his hand in your hair and kissing you between sobs.

“I made a cake for your birthday,” You told him. “But I couldn’t eat it.”

He laughed through his tears. “I always left you more firewood than anyone else.I just… wanted to make sure you had enough.”

“I know,” You said, taking him by the hand. “Come on.”

You took him into the bedroom and spent many tender moments undressing him, peppering his skin with kisses. He returned the favor and turned you, kissing the back of your neck and down your spine. He massaged the muscles of your shoulders and buttocks with his hand before going into the night table to grab the bottle of oil that was always there. He uncorked it and drizzled a little in his palm one-handed, reached between your spread legs and stroked it into the skin of your cock, making you grip the sheets.

He teased your pucker with a single finger, rubbing it around and up and down before slowly sinking it inside, and you groaned against the bedding. After a few minutes of playing with you, he slicked himself down and before he entered you, he bent down so that his front was pressed against your back. You turned your head and kissed him as he pushed himself inside.

It had been a while, and you were both pent up. It didn’t take long at all before you were both a mess. He came so hard that he roared, and you painted the floor in your own release. He didn’t stop, though; he slowed for a moment before regaining his pace, and the two of you made love again and again.

Neither of you got much sleep, but it was a deep, sweet exhaustion that overtook you both as dawn crept into the windows.

Later, after a much needed nap, the two of you awoke in each other’s arms. Arkag’s nose was in your hair, breathing steadily, but you could tell he was awake.

“I had an idea,” You said. “What if we apprenticed Eida? You could teach her tanning, and I could teach her the methods and means of being a tailor. There’s much of this job one can do with only one hand, and there’s no reason she couldn’t hire an assistant if she were to branch out on her own. What do you think?”

“I think that’s an amazing idea,” He said. “Gods know what I could have done if I had had that kind of support when I lost my arm. We can do for her what no one did for me.”

The two of you spoke to Eida the next day, and though she was dubious about her ability to learn with her disability, she agreed. It took her a few months to heal, during which time you and Arkag solidified your union by getting married.

After she was mended, she began spending her days in the shop, learning to sew one-handed and assisting Arkag with the tanning. Arkag no longer got jealous or resentful when you went hunting, as he had Eida to occupy his time. Eida began calling the both of you Uncle after some time.

Arkag enjoyed teaching Eida so much that he actually brought up the subject of adopting a child. You were delighted with the idea, and after a trip to Coleville, the two of you came home with a lizardfolk girl named Cinna who had lost both her tail and her parents in a similar accident as Eida, and had severe balance problems. She and Eida got along swimmingly. After a year, you and Arkag adopted another child, a blind gnoll boy called Jotak.

You had a loving husband who was learning to love himself through helping others, a business that was booming, and two beautiful children. You couldn’t imagine life being any more complete than it was right at that moment, and for all the rest of your moments.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

232 notes · View notes

starrynite7114 · 4 years ago

Text

things you never knew: five

A/N: I’ve had this ready for a few days, no idea why I waited, but it’s here now! Enjoy this update! Hope you all are enjoying this story as much as I am!

TYNK: Characters one : two : three : four

Word count: 5856

Masterlist

Request list

tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @carlaangel86 : @marvelmaree : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @whyisgmora : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @briannab1234 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life : @mheart27 : @claytoncardenasbabymama : @sadeyesgf : @thickemadame : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @gemini0410 : @robbosugdens : @elcococruz : @samcrobae : @sesamepancakes : @iambabyharry : @blackmissfrizzle : @nich0lasmatthews : @angelreyesgirl : @soamayansimaginez : @vicmackeybullshxt : @sheeshgivemeabreak : @1-800-imagines

Thank you again @carlaangel86 for making this for me! <3

Ailee groaned as Arthur tended to her wounds, laying on her side as he applied cream on the scars that she sustained with the whip that Theo used on her. It was a torture tactic in case she was captured by the enemy. He whipped her twenty five times every other week to build her tolerance. They didn’t hurt less, she just reacted less. The tears have stopped as crying upset Theo greatly.

And she was exhausted.

Tears weren’t doing anything for her.

The only time she cried was when she would dream of Angel, praying and hoping for this hell to end.

“You’re progressing well.” She heard Arthur compliment her as he applied the cream on her back. “I don’t know how to help you Ailee.”

Arthur was a Maquina agent that Jin installed in Theo’s company. He made his way up after saving Theo’s life in a failed assassination attempt. He made his way up the ladder rather quickly and was now his right hand man. At times, Ailee was skeptical to trust him as he’s been undercover for nearly three years. Theo was charismatic and took care of the people he cared for, but he was also harsh. Though from their interactions, Theo always seemed to listen to Arthur’s advice.

“You can’t.” Ailee felt the tear fall, running over the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“Don’t do this for Angel, he’s not worth it.” Arthur knew what Theo held over his sister’s head and it was despicable. He reported to Jin that Theo was threatening Angel’s life, but it seemed that he didn’t care much for Ailee’s boyfriend.

‘The loss of his life would propel her to come work for Maquina.’

The way Jin and Theo played with Ailee’s life, not caring how much they hurt her, it was despicable. Family was an excuse both used to explain their actions, that they cared for Ailee, they loved her. But this wasn’t what family was about. At least by his definition. Manipulating Ailee to fight for their cause, it was despicable.

“To me he is, Angel has been the only constant in my life that has never required anything from me besides being myself.” She gripped the sheet as Arthur stitched up her new laceration she sustained.

“Angel wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”

“No, but if I lose him, I would lose my grip with reality. He’s the only person holding me down.”

“At least let me tell your brothers where you are so they can come see you.”

“No,” she choked out. “That would upset Theo and it might blow your cover.” She never felt so helpless before. The only way she could escape was to become what Theo wanted her to be. Theo wanted her to be perfect. To kill with no qualms, to be able to surpass John.

She knew that eventually he would ask her to kill John for what occurred with his father.

‘They would never be able to kill you. You’re the one thing that John and Vince will never kill. You have to become better than them.’

Maquina provides the base model for Theo. She knew how to hold a gun, to fight, to escape tricky situations and to adapt to her surroundings.

Now, Theo was perfecting the skills she learned at Maquina. To be able to kill with whatever surrounded her or her bare hands. To be able to roam in the dark with no guidance. To not fear death or anything she used to fear.

The one fear he couldn’t get rid of was losing Angel and he used that to his advantage.

So many times Ailee thought that ending her life would make this nightmare end, but all she could think of was Angel, what would happen to him if she did end her life? Felipe and EZ couldn’t lose another person. That would be too much life lost for a lifetime.

She had to hold on.

She had to withstand it.

For Angel she would.

===============

Ailee sat on her bed, Melody sitting in front of her. She was brushing her daughter’s hair, Alexander sitting at the head of the bed.

“She has Angel’s eyes.” Ailee loved looking at Melody’s eyes, because it reminded her of Angel’s. Whenever she missed him most all those years ago, she would hold Melody in her arms, look into her eyes and feel at home again.

“Has he reached out to you?” Alexander questioned, watching how Ailee softly brushed Melody’s hair, making sure that she didn’t get the brush caught on her implant.

Melody has a cochlear implant that she had placed at four years old. She was born with congenital deafness due to a chemical that was induced during the pregnancy, Ailee’s pregnancy. Melody was a twin, but due to a drug that induced abortion, her twin died. Melody survived.

Ailee was pregnant when she was arrested. She had found out that day and was going to tell Angel, she was four months along. Theo found out she was pregnant and due to his disapproval of Angel, gave her water that was laced with the drug. It was successfully worked on one of the babies, but Melody hung on and due to this, she developed the condition.

Thankfully, Melody was able to get the cochlear implant so she can hear. Her speech needed help, but Ailee had the best working on her.

A secret she kept from Angel all these years knowing that if her brother found out that Ailee had given birth to Angel’s child, it would place a target on her back. So she decided to pretend that it was a child she adopted in Europe, letting her stay with a family friend while Ailee racked up the bodies all around Europe. If she made herself look invincible, into the monster Theo wanted her to be, he wouldn’t fuck with her or Melody.

So she made the elaborate lie that she was adopted, when in reality, Melody was her and Angel’s child. Her brothers helped her cover her secret along with Jin. She didn’t mean to withhold Melody from Angel and she didn’t. Melody knew who her father was, she never hid that.

“No, he won’t. Why should he?” Ailee hoped Angel didn’t reach out to her, there was no reason to do so.

“You know why you agreed to this, you wanted Angel to meet Melody. You didn’t agree to this at the farce of your half-brother possibly being here.” Alexander knew the truth. This was Ailee’s way to go home, so she fed the intel that Theo may be at the border communicating through the rebel group. It was a farce, a dangerous one at that, but once Melody met Angel, her conscience would be cleared and they could leave again.

This was the best way for Melody to be protected, by having Maquina around. As much as she despised the organization, she saw the benefits that it provided. By saying that Theo could possibly be around, Maquina would provide their agents and resources to assure that Theo doesn’t make any headway in America. It was a terrible farce but this was the way Melody could meet Angel.

“I know, I just, he’s going to hate me.” And maybe she was frightened she would be rejected. From her understanding he had something going on with the rebel leader. The last thing she wanted was to disrupt Angel’s life. He was better without her, without her troubles and fallacies.

“Angel could never hate you. He’ll be angry, but he won't hate you. He knows you did this for your daughter and not to spite him.” Alexander reasoned. “Or at least I would hope he didn’t.”

“This was a bad idea. I should have never come back.” Ailee places the brush down, Melody turning her implant back on.

“Mommy, when do I get to see daddy?” Melody signed to Ailee.

“Soon baby,” she tucked her daughters hair back. “Mommy just needs a little more time.”

“Okay.” Melody said, nodding her head and getting off the bed. “Uncle Alexander, can we play?”

“Anything for you princess.” He stood up, almost following Melody out of the room before turning back. “You can’t keep him waiting Lee, Santo Padre is a small town. It’s not like you can deny her resemblance to him when he sees her.”

Ailee knew that, but she needed time.

She wasn’t ready.

Well, when would she ever?

===============

“This is insane Ailee, there are no leads connecting Theo to anyone here.” Janine rolled her eyes. “Well, we all know why that is.” She smirked at Ailee who flicked her off.

“The customer is awaiting their latte.” Ailee reminded her.

“I don’t do scut work.” Janine scoffed, a playful smirk gracing her lips as well. “Carl, latte,” she ordered, snapping her fingers at her protege.

Carl quickly came and made the latte for the customer, busying himself with other tasks while waiting for the next customers.

“Wow, it’s like you have him on a leash.” Oscar chuckled, shaking his head. He was glad this was implemented after his time.

“He just knows better than to argue with me.” Janine grinned. “So have you reunited with your boy toy?”

Ailee rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I’m here for.”

“Of course not.” Andrew sat across from Janine, placing a coffee in front of her. “For you Bonita.”

“Bite me.”

“Where?” Andrew wiggled his eyebrows.

“It’s too early for you two to behave this way.” Oscar rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“You’re just jealous because I’m taking your boyfriend.” Janine flipped him off.

“I’m good, I got Olivia.” Oscar blew her a kiss.

Janine chuckled. “You going to fight her jailbird?”

Ailee laughed, shaking her head at her team. Oscar was the first to join her group of misfits, meeting during training. Janine was the second to join, being assigned to the team by John. Olivia joined next, Ailee wanted her best friend to take care of all of her IT needs. Andrew was the last to join. Ailee met him during one of her visits in a Maquina training facility in Germany. He caught her eye and she immediately made him a part of her team.

Young. Hungry. Talented.

That's what she looked for.

“I can take on baby Reyes.” Oscar scoffed. “Prison can’t teach you my skills.”

“They don’t teach dick sucking in prison?” Janine caused a roar of laughter to break out between the team members.

Ailee was thankful that she had Oscar, Olivia, Janine and Andrew. They made this life so much more bearable.

The bell above the door rang, indicating a customer came in. They heard Carl and Iya greet the customer, but they didn’t hear a reply. Ailee looked over and cussed under her breath.

“We need to talk.” Angel’s eyes were trained on her, it was like he had tunnel vision.

Ailee saw Andrew and Oscar made a move to get up, but she stopped them.

“It’s fine, sit.” She looked at Angel. “Can it wait?”

“No, you don’t look busy to me. Besides, I think you owe me an explanation.”

“About what?

Angel cackled. He threw the folder that John and Vince gave him last night to the floor.

“Where’s my daughter?”

Janine, Oscar and Andrew all saw how Ailee’s face changed and immediately dispersed. Angel waited for Ailee to make a move. He could stand here all day. She was lucky he didn’t wake her up in the middle of the night.

“Follow me.” Ailee made her way towards her office, Angel following suit. As soon as they were both inside, Ailee closed the door. “Who told you?”

“You’re not even going to try and deny it?”

“For? You already know.” Ailee walked behind her desk, sitting down on the chair. “Who. Told. You.”

“Does it fucking matter? Cause you should have fucking told me.” Angel spat out. “You weren’t even in fucking jail Ailee, you were free, raising our fucking child without me!”

Ailee knew it was awful of her to keep Melody away, but she couldn’t bring her to Santo Padre. She feared for Melody and Angel’s life. Maybe her decision was questionable but she did what she had to do as a mother.

“I don’t expect you to understand my decision, but just know I made the best decision for her.”

“Why? Cause I’m that much of a fuck up? You didn’t even give me a fucking chance to fuck up!”

“No, Angel,” she immediately felt her heart clenched. She always believed Angel would be an amazing father. It was never about him. “You would be an amazing father, I just,” Ailee sighed. For once, Angel saw his Ailee, not this cold person that he’s been seeing around town. “Theo already killed one of them, I couldn’t risk bringing Melody here. He would know she was your kid and kill her.”

Hearing the confirmation from Ailee hit differently. Sure she wasn’t in jail. Sure she didn’t suffer as he thought she did, but she suffered in a different way that he still couldn’t fathom. He thought his family was a work of art but Ailee’s family took the cake. His girl lost one of their kids and she had to suffer through it alone. She raised their kid on her own. But she could have come to him, he would have protected her and their daughter.

“You should have come home to me Ailee. I could have protected you and our daughter. I would do anything for you Lee.” Angel felt the tears building in his eyes. Years of shame, disappointment, regret, frustration, sadness and anger were resurfacing for both himself and Ailee. They looked at one another, studying one another. Ailee was the light of Angel’s life, the person who made him feel that he was worthy. That no matter the life she could have elsewhere, she always chose him. And he would never fault her for that. If she wanted to stay with him, he would selfishly accept her.

Angel was the light of Ailee’s life.

During her time of darkness, as cliche as it sounded, he was her angel, the reason she kept fighting. When she was a child, he would sneak out with her, teach her how to play baseball or any other sport she wanted to learn. He would take her to watch the shining stars in the dark desert with no lights taking away their shine. When she suffered under Theo, he pushed her to live, to not kill herself because once she was able to escape, she would be back in his warm embrace. It kept her breathing. She felt like an idiot relying so much of her sanity on Angel, but she was the one person who didn’t like her due to her ability or what she could bring to the table, he loved her because she was Ailee.

He was the love of her life.

She was the love of his life.

Yet obstacles always came in between them.

But Ailee was content.

As long as Angel was alive she could live without having him, without being around him. She could live knowing that he was safe, at least from her demons.

Olivia opened the car door, letting Melody jump down the car. She smiled, holding out her hand towards Melody, which she gladly took. She had taken Melody out for some brunch while Alex was in Los Angeles handling business with Sierra. Parking in front of Carniceria Reyes was risky, but it was eleven in the morning, the shop was usually busy and she saw no bikes in sight.

She was in the clear.

“You think mommy will like her waffles?” Olivia asked Melody as they walked across the street.

EZ had caught sight of Olivia’s car, he gave her back a questioning look as he saw the child with her. He’s never seen the young girl before. She turned around and EZ felt his stomach churn. He recognized that smile, it was the same smile Angel had, the one he shared with their mother. He muttered some excuse to his father as he followed Olivia and the young girl.

They entered Ailee’s cafe, which was called ‘MR cafe’. He didn’t know what the initials stood for but it was a catchy name. Following them inside, he saw how the employees warmly greeted the young girl along with Olivia. His eyes narrowed at the man hugging Olivia.

“Livy, Janine was being mean to me earlier, she said I had to fight the jailbird for you.” Oscar pouted.

Olivia laughed. “No, but you know you’re not my type.”

“What? Tall, dark and handsome? How is that not your type?” Oscar shook his head. “Now you’re just hurting my feelings.”

“More like obnoxious, arrogant and a clown.”

“Ooh! Burn!” Andrew let out a booming laugh.

Melody walked over to Olivia after retrieving a cookie from Carl.

“Mommy?” She looked at Janine.

“In her office sweetie, but,” before Janine could advise the young girl to wait, she bolted towards the office with the waffles in hand.

“Don’t worry, I got her.” Olivia walked away following after her with EZ following after Olivia. He passed by Andrew, Janine and Oscar since they thought he was heading to the restroom. EZ looked harmless to them, despite the kute.

Olivia could hear the raised voices then, but before she could stop Melody from opening the door, she opened it. Her eyes immediately landed on Angel, her lie coming out before she could think.

"Oh, that's so odd, mommy isn't he-"

Melody ran straight to Ailee, hugging her leg. Angel looked at them, dumbfounded by the scene. The beautiful little girl looked up at him and when she studied his face, her eyes widened, hiding behind Ailee.

"I'm just gonna," Olivia nodded her head and made her way outside. EZ, who had seen them from across the street, was right behind her.

"Who was that?"

"Fuck me."

“She, please don’t tell me.” EZ knew that Olivia or Ailee would never keep something this enormous from them. They wouldn’t hide the existence of Angel’s child.

“EZ, it wasn’t my secret to tell.” Olivia grimaced, hugging him immediately. “This was on Ailee, I would never have crossed that line.”

EZ wrapped his arms around her. As much as he wanted to go inside for moral support, this was between Angel and well, his girls.

Angel looked down at Melody who was gripping her mother’s leg along with the plastic bag in her hand. She didn’t seem frightened of him, she just looked shy. Ailee had her hand on Melody’s head, placing a hand on her mouth to keep her sob from coming out. This was something she always dreamed of, Melody finally meeting Angel. She wiped her tears, squatting down to Melody’s level.

“Baby, I thought you and Auntie Ollie were having brunch?” Ailee questioned.

Melody looked at Angel then back at Ailee. “We did, I brought you waffles.” She signed back to her mother, marveling Angel. Lifting up the bag, Ailee took it, placing it on the desk behind her.

“She,” Angel paused remembering John and Vince’s words from last night. “Your brothers told me she could talk.”

Ailee stored that into memory. It was her brothers who told Angel.

“She’s very shy, she just learned how to talk last year and she’s still getting used to it. She was born deaf and had an implant placed last year.” Ailee explained. “Baby, it’s okay, you can talk in front of daddy.”

Angel gave Ailee an incredulous look. How could Melody possibly know he was her father?

Ailee saw the look on his face and sighed. “I never hid your existence from her. She always knew you were her father and she recognizes you from the pictures.” She looked at Melody who was looking up at Angel, marveled at the fact her father was finally in front of her. “Say hi to daddy Melly.”

Angel crouched down beside Ailee, wanting to give Melody the space she needed. He felt the tears escape his eyes, but he didn’t fucking care, his daughter was right in front of him and he felt like he saw his mother. Melody tilted her head, unsure why her father was crying. Her small hand reached up to him, wiping the tears escaping his eyes. Angel let out a sob, slightly startling Melody, but she kept her hand on his face.

“Hi daddy.” Melody closed the distance between them, wrapping her little arms around Angel’s neck. The tears wouldn’t stop falling for Angel, Ailee crying as well when she saw father and daughter together. Angel wrapped his arms around Melody, he never believed in love at first sight, but he did now. He fell in love with his daughter at first sight.

“Hello Melody, you’re so beautiful mama.” Angel relished holding her. Looking at Ailee, he saw how she was trying her best to stop crying, but Ailee was awful at that. Picking up Melody, she was so light, it didn’t even feel like anything. Ailee stayed crouched down, trying her best to calm herself. He pulled her up, pulling her into his other arm, kissing the top of her head. “I got you baby, I got both of you.”

Their moment was broken when John and Vince burst into the room. Ailee glared at her brothers, obviously knowing of their betrayal.

“Oh man, is that my phone ringing? Might be my son, you know, your nephew, who needs me in his life.” John made a uturn and left the room.

“That’s not fair, I don’t have a son to use as a scapegoat.” Vince gave his sister an apologetic smile. “I’m your favorite brother?”

“Leave.”

“Te quiero mucho mi hermana.” Vince left leaving the family again.

Angel looked out and saw EZ with Olivia. Looking at Melody, he gestured for his little brother to come in. Ailee looked at Olivia who gave her an encouraging smile.

“Melody, this is Tio EZ, he’s daddy’s brother.” Angel informed his daughter.

“She knows about EZ.” Ailee confirmed. “She knows about your whole family.”

Melody turned to face EZ. “You’re on Auntie Ollie’s phone.” She looked at Olivia who gestured for her to be quiet.

EZ chuckled, tears streaming down his eyes. Much like Angel, he saw his mother as he looked at her. He couldn’t believe Angel had a little girl. He knew Ailee’s return was going to bring so many answers, yet, he felt like it was going to bring more questions as well. Angel told him about Ailee’s past, how she was a government agent. He didn’t fucking believe it though. Ailee could barely kill a fucking spider before much less a human being. He thinks it’s completely fabricated and there was something else.

But the lie was so elaborate.

“Can you take Melody? Ailee and I have much to talk about.” Angel handed Melody to Olivia. “And we need to talk as well Liv.”

Olivia eyed Angel curiously before nodding her head.

“Sure, we’ll be right outside.”

Ailee stepped away from Angel, sitting back down behind her desk. Angel waited till the door was closed before he turned to Ailee. He didn’t want Melody out of his sight, but he didn’t want her to be in here for this conversation.

“I just want to make it very clear that I’m not letting Melody out of my sight. I don’t care what you do, what you think, but she’s my daughter and I intend to be with her whenever I can.” Angel started off. “And you’re coming as well.”

“What?” Ailee was confused by his words.

Angel chuckled. “We have a daughter together, Lee. I’ve always told you you were it for me and nothing has changed that. Though, it appears we have much to talk about.”

“You have a child, that’s that.”

“Oh no mi dulce, I know that, but you’re staying with me or I’m staying with you, I don’t give a fuck how it works, you’re not leaving my sight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Angel, that’s impossible. You have to work and so do I.” Ailee hated how simple things always seemed to Angel. There was always a simple solution for him, but he never thought of the consequences or what had to be done to get to his simple outcome.

Nothing in life was simple.

“And? That’s not my concern. When you’re home, we’re all home together.” Again, so simple for Angel.

“No.”

“That wasn’t a choice.”

“I’m not discussing this, you’re out of your mind. I was gone for five years Angel, I’ve heard you’ve moved on. Let’s just keep it this way. You are more than welcome to see Melody but otherwise there is nothing between us.” Ailee put her foot down. It was better this way. Her and Angel were just a thing of the past and the only thing bringing them together was Melody.

Ailee hates herself too much to give herself to anyone. Angel would never love her if he found out what she did while she was away. He wanted an innocent girl, untainted. Not a jaded government agent who had more scars and baggage that she would like to admit.

“I’ve moved on? You’re the one parading your dildo around here. I’ve never moved on, and I never will, not from you.” Angel was livid. He moved on? Was that an excuse for her boyfriend?

“Alexander isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Look, I don’t want to argue, I got shit to do today and the last thing I want is for Melody to hear us arguing.” She lowered her voice. “We should take her to meet your father.”

“Not right now, I just, I want her to myself.” Angel sighed. He should introduce Melody to his father, but he wanted some time with Melody first, to get to know his daughter.

“Okay, whatever you want.”

“We’re staying together.”

“Okay Ignacio, whatever you say.”

===============

Olivia walked in her apartment, the smell of smoke was immediately apparent to her. She rolled her eyes, knowing Angel broke in her damn apartment again. It’s not like she didn’t have any security cameras, of course she did, the place was rigged. But Angel also had a key to her place.

“Ignacio, what did I say about breaking in?” Olivia closed her door, locking her door.

“How could you not tell me Liv?” Angel questioned, crushing his cigarette butt on the ashtray that Olivia conveniently left out for him.

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.” Olivia sighed, sitting beside Angel on the couch. “I, I wanted to tell you, I really did, but Ailee didn’t want to. She said you made a life of your own and you didn’t need her.”

“She’s a pain in the ass.”

“She’s your pain in the ass.”

Angel chuckled. “Yeah, yeah she is.” He slid the folder over to her, Olivia giving him a confused look. “Guess you also kept that you worked for a government agency.”

“Yeah, you know this, I do apps for various government agencies.” Olivia shook her head. “Why are you here?”

“So, when are you going to tell EZ that you’re a part of Maquina?”

Olivia looked at Angel then, making her sigh. She let out a string of cuss words under her breath. She stood up and began pacing in front of Angel. “Who told you?”

“Just like Lee, didn’t even try to deny it.” Angel let out a small laugh, hardly amused by this whole ordeal. “You knew the entire time where she was, yet you never told me.”

“Angel, I wanted to tell you, I truly did, I just,” Olivia couldn’t even find a good excuse. There was no good explanation of what she did to Angel or EZ, but she had her reasons. “I had to respect Ailee’s choice, my loyalties will always lie with her. “I can’t tell EZ, not yet. I will eventually, especially with Maquina being so close to home.”

“Close to home? Maquina is in our home.” Angel lit another cigarette, the stress getting to him. “I don’t want to break my little brother’s heart since you kept such a big secret from him. I wanted to tell you that I know and I think you should be the one to tell EZ.”

“And I will.”

“When Liv? When are you going to tell EZ?”

“Soon, just not right now.”

“No better time than the present. This week seems to be the week of letting the cat out of the bag.” Angel sighed. “I’m not here to force your hand, you want to tell him, that’s on you. But tread carefully. Can’t promise you that the other members won’t mention it in front of EZ.”

“I’m sorry Angel, for whatever it's worth, I’m sorry that you found out like this.” Olivia didn’t want Angel to find out in this way. She was obviously never on board with keeping Angel in the dark, but she had to understand Ailee’s reasoning. Ailee was her best friend and she wanted to support her in any way she could.

“Would Ailee have ever told me about Melody?” Angel knew she wouldn’t.

“She wanted to, but she was afraid.”

“Of what? She knew how devoted I was to her.”

“It’s not about you.”

“Then what is it? Theo? Fuck her brother, he can kiss my ass. Her whole fucking family is a nightmare.”

“Theo is a different beast Angel, I get that you don’t think before you do shit, but with him, you have to. You can’t be impulsive since he’ll count on that. I’m sure he knows Ailee is back in town, it won't be long before he makes his play.” Olivia knew that Theo always knew Ailee’s moves. He’s kept on track of her all these years. Maybe he didn’t know all of her moves, but he knew enough to make it dangerous.

“I don’t give a fuck, let him come. I’m ending this shit, he’s not going to hurt my family, never again.”

===============

“Are you going with your uncle?”

“To the brothel? Yes. Don’t wait up.”

“I try not to.”

Alexander walked out just as Ailee stood up. She looked at her and saw a message from her uncle. Sighing, Ailee changed her clothes and made her way down the stairs. She saw Alexander and Melody in the living room. Quickly, she said goodbye to her daughter, late nights were not odd to Melody.

Making her way to the coffee shop, she found her uncle waiting at the back of the shop, inside of his Mercedes Benz.

“Are we using my car?” Ailee questioned.

“We can use mine, Dave will drive us.” Dave has been her uncle’s bodyguard, driver, best friend and confidant for twenty-eight years. He didn’t trust anyone more than Dave. Even Ailee trusted him. His tough exterior was such a farce, because once it was the two of them, he would have tea parties with her, sneak her some cookies at night and even read her a book. She figured Dave was what a father should be, something she only saw on movies and television shows.

It was pathetic.

“Uncle Dave,” Ailee greeted him warmly.

“Fuck you both for coming to this god forsaken town. It’s unbearably hot.” He opened the door. “Hello to you too sweetheart.”

Jin and Ailee laughed, sliding inside the car. Dave closed the door, sliding in the driver seat. As they made their way to the brothel, Jin discussed the plan with Ailee.

“From my understanding, the Reid family is through and through racist yahoo’s who want to serve and protect the country by patrolling the border, illegally.” Jin provided background information. “Cole has been working with them, but he doesn’t seem very impressed with their lack of discipline.”

Ailee laughed. “None of them have ever served in the military. What made him think that they were going to be good foot soldiers? Their racist cause is their main agenda, having to shoot people of color is their whole purpose in this whole ordeal.”

“Gracie, have you spoken to Angel?” Jin knew it was only a matter of time before the two spoke again. They always gravitated around one another. He was surprised she was able to hold back this long when it came to talking to him. He knew that she made a few trips to Santo Padre, but she always left, wanting to assure his protection over anything.

“No.” A lie, but she wasn’t required to be truthful to her uncle. She had to dig into this deceit that was placed ever since her supposed incarceration. Jin hardly told her the truth, why should she?

Great family dynamic.

“Why did you have Alexander bring Melody here?” Jin questioned. He didn’t feel comfortable having his granddaughter so close to the border with Theo around. They never understood Theo’s obsession with Ailee. Maybe due to the fact that he was an only child. Or maybe it was due to Ailee’s ability. Regardless, they were not big fans of Theo’s idiocracy.

“Why is this a question? Melody wanted to see me. Is that a crime?”

“Easy Gracie, I was just wondering. I thought you wanted to keep her away from Santo Padre.” Jin didn't want to upset her, but he was also looking out for his granddaughter. Though he figured Melody was safe since they had more than fifteen Maquina agents around as of right now.

“Yes, but, I can’t live in fear. If Theo wants to harm her then I will have his head on a silver platter before he can do so.” Ailee sighed. “Why is he such a concern? Theo has not made noise in years. Backing lowly European groups is hardly any of our concern.”

“It’s Theo, you never count out a Kane. He’ll want his revenge and make people pay for what occurred with his father. We need to be ten steps ahead to assure he cannot pull a fast one on us.” Jin never counted out Theo. He did not like to be an underdog, did not like to be the second best. He had to be the best. He remembered when Theo expressed interest in joining Maquina and it was an immediate no. The way Theo was, Jin knew that training him and giving him permission to eliminate people would be too powerful of a task for him. “Grace, what did he do to you?”

“Besides killing one of my children? The details are not necessary, just know that you perfected whatever he wanted to do.”

“And what’s that?” Jin hated it when Ailee compared him to Ailee. He did everything for her own protection. She thrived under Maquina and without it, Melody wouldn’t be able to hear. There was a tiny amount of guilt that ate at him, that if he didn’t set her up, Theo wouldn’t have been able to take her child from her.

“A killer with no moral code.”

#angel reyes #angelreyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fic #angel reyes fanfic #mayans mc fic #mayans mc fanfic

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chilly-me-softly · 4 years ago

Text

Carry You Home • Eric Dier (Part 2)

Part 1

"I knew I'd find you here" that voice that you've learned to recognise by now, Eric's voice, comes from behind you. You sigh, giving one last look at the room in front of you before turning around.

Five days have passed since that episode, three of which you stopped by the hospital to get updates on the baby's condition. You were back to your normal life but your mind was always returning to him. You had tried to find a logical explanation, assuming it was because you had found him - or saved him as that nurse always says.

Your heart only found peace when you saw him, happy to see him away from the blanket, happy to know that he was eating alone, that he was fine. Even though he was still struggling to breathe and had that cannula on his nose to help him.

The night before you went to sleep you wondered what would happen to him. He would certainly have entered the system, gone into foster care. And so he would find a good family, good people who could take care of him? It took you a long time to fall asleep, but ironically, thinking about him could reconcile your sleep.

"Hi" you smile softly at the boy who does the same, you hadn't been completely honest with him in the last few days. Eric knew that the day after the hospitalisation, you went back to visit him but he didn't know that you had kept going. Even though coming to look for you there claimed he knew you much better than you thought.

Eric moves next to you, his eyes going through the glass to the well known place where the little one is resting peacefully.

"I know we said-"

"I came to see him after training the other day" he interrupts you, leaving you speechless.

After your solo visit, you promised not to come back and try to put the episode aside by moving on with your lives. A decision made to not get attached, having done a good action had to be the basis to make you feel good.

The next day, however, you had fallen for it again. One last time to say goodbye to him, you said to yourself. And instead you went back again and again.

Eric, on the other hand, had really found himself there by chance. He had approached the car quickly looking forward to warming up after a long day out training, and his eyes fell on that blanket as he put his bag in its usual place. And he simply thought that a short stop wouldn't hurt anyone.

You squeeze his hand, feeling a strange vibe at that admission, but you're unable to give a proper reading to it.

-------

"We can't go on like this" that statement comes as an unexpected slap, it hurts but it's the truth and it's a wake-up call.

Eric comes and sits next to you holding your hands between his to comfort you. You know it's the right thing to do but you can't stop your eyes from filling up with tears.

"We really have to (Y/N). Sooner or later they will discharge him and take him away and we have to stop while we can" it costs him so much to admit it even to himself, but he feels that if one of you doesn't put a stop to it seriously, the further you go the more complicated it will become to handle it.

"I know" a gasp comes out of your lips as you try to take deep breaths and calm down, "I know. I just... I can't explain it"

"What do you say if-if we go one last time to say goodbye to him? Together and for real this time" he proposes and in a second endless thoughts can really go through somebody's mind. That moment before you nod and then throw yourself into his arms is one of the longest moments ever.

Maybe it's not the case, you think. Maybe knowing that it really is the last time, that you will have to do everything to not give in from that moment on, will make it even more difficult. But Eric is right, it's better to put some distance between us now than to have the patch torn off when it's too late.

--------

How can people forget about someone they have met, who have left a mark along the way, who have changed us in some way by making us open our minds or change.

The truth is that we don't forget, the feelings given are incorporated within us and gradually shaped us. Like a clay pot that has to be shaped, a person makes a change, makes us grow, destroys us and remodels us. Every episode we face adds or removes a piece, and the final work is never really the end because the clay can always be remodelled.

As soon as you arrived, you went on your way expertly. Only once you arrived in front of the room, your little space was empty. That crib you had stared at for the previous days was empty and a sense of panic had overwhelmed both of you, immediately thinking the worst.

Then a nurse, the same as always who had followed you from the beginning, who had seen you arrive separately but with a common purpose, who in many years of her career had witnessed few similar situations, came to your rescue.

She had brought you in front of another glass and happily pointed to a crib, at the bottom right. Because that little miracle no longer needed the little tube with oxygen and could stay with the other newborn babies, on which he was the biggest. The joy had been so great that needless to say, other tears had appeared.

You and Eric had watched him for a long time, happy that he had improved in such a short time and that he hadn't suffered any permanent damage because of the way he had been abandoned. You could have stayed there forever if it hadn't been for another couple who had approached to admire one of the other newborn and without any mischievousness asked which one was yours.

Another bubble, yet another one, had burst and brought you back to reality.

--------

You feel emptied of everything at that moment, so many contrasting emotions that together create an absolute void. Nothing makes sense anymore and your head can no longer think clearly.

An opportunity had been created, one that will surely change your lives and on which you cannot make hasty decisions. It had run across you like a running train, and yet you had never felt so alive in your life.

Almost ten days had passed since that evening, since arriving at the hospital with that almost cyanotic bundle in your arms and the shock in your eyes. Three since the day you had decided to say goodbye to him. Two from the unexpected proposal.

The phone call had been a bit of a surprise, you had both been summoned by the hospital management. You thought it was about the baby, but at first, when you discussed it with Eric, you thought it was more of a scolding on their part. It wasn't normal for strangers, even though they were involved in the situation, to go back and forth to the hospital to check on a complete stranger after all. You thought they would tell you to stay away from that unit, that you had taken advantage of their kindness for too long now; you laughed thinking they would arrest you for stalking or something like that.

You had apologized to the manager once in her office at the time of the meeting, you knew it was unhealthy what you were doing and explained to her that it would never happen again. Both in fear like two students in front of the principal. But you weren't there for that.

The woman had spoken a lot about the child's condition and thanked you once again for your charitable act. Then she started talking about foster care, numbers, adoptions, filling your head with words upon words while you were still trying to make sense of it all.

And then the bomb had been dropped. The woman was asking you to adopt that child, to give him a loving and welcoming home, to continue to fill him with attention and love. To give him a family.

--------

"Do you think we could do it?" you hold a cushion in your arms, sitting on the sofa in front of Eric, legs crossed. You had asked for a few days to think about it and well you had a lot to discuss.

"Well we're both in our 30s, we're both going to start a family sooner or later, aren't we?"

"Yeah but... can we make it with a kid that's not ours? Are we mature enough?" Eric reaches out to hit your thigh and get your attention. He can't lie, the proposal came in like a bucket of cold water. The doubts are many, but for his part, he feels that the proposal has connected all the pieces: the worry, the constant desire to know how he was doing and make sure with his own eyes. And he might not show it, leaving the emotional part to you, but in those few days his whole world turned upside down. He doesn't know how to explain it in order to make sense of it, but the focus of everything is that little creature.

"Listen, I have faith in us. We can do it, if that's what you want too, if we are on the same page. It doesn't matter that we didn't conceive him, he will always be ours. We will have plenty of tough challenges ahead of us, but we will do it together. And we will raise him in exactly the same way as all those who will come after him"

"Do you realize you have already included him in an us?" your voice shaking as you follow with your gaze as he rises on his knees before approaching you, being careful not to fall.

"Everything makes sense now (Y/N), everything makes sense. Think about it, you me and him, here. Playing or watching him grow. First steps, first word, the lullabies to put him to sleep. You as his mother-"

"And you as his daddy" you say in a whisper, your eyes shining with emotion.

"I want to have a baby with you (Y/N), I want to have that baby with you"

"I can see that" you can whisper before his lips meet yours, first in an urgent kiss then sweeter and mixed with your tears of joy.

-------

A few days and everything is ready to make your home welcoming for the new member of your family. It's still strange to say that word in relation to you two, soon three. It all sounds like a dream but it's not, it's all true and in a few hours it will be even more so.

"We're going to be terrible parents, we should be asleep right now" you complain by resting your forehead on your legs curled up to your chest in a dramatic way, Eric's laugh coming to your ears right afterwards.

"I'm too excited and worried to sleep, we'll have time for that"

"Oh really?!" you look at him badly while he holds you tight, disguising another giggle in your neck.

"And just for the record, we're gonna make great parents"

"Why? I mean, what makes you say that?" he lifts his head from your shoulder, suddenly more serious.

"(Y/N) I love you and you love me, this seems to me the most important thing to start with" you smile looking ahead of you, "and then the rest will come by itself, nobody prepares you to be a parent and we certainly haven't had nine months to get the idea but we will work hard to be the best possible version of us"

"I'm sure you'll be his favourite" you mumble, caressing his cheek and he grins leaving a kiss on your lips, "Of course, you'll be the one banning us from having fun..."

"I didn't sign up for this"

"Oh darling, you signed up for this and much more"

-------

One last look between you two and a deep breath before you enter that hospital, ready to start the most exciting day of your lives so far.

Your heart is beating like crazy, your legs are shaking as if they were made of jelly, but there is a bright smile on your faces.

Finally that tag is no longer empty, the miracle child has an identity. Now he is a Dier, he has a name and a surname and people who are willing to love him forever by his side. And it's beautiful.

It's like a deja-vu, with the nurse who makes you approach him and asks if you want to pick him up. But this time no one runs away in tears, those are always there but this time it's because the little one is finally in your arms. Now you can let yourself go with your imagination, you can get attached to him, you can hold him and smell his perfume while the little one is already settled and waiting for you to carry him home.

Tag: @emwritesfootball @footballdaydream @alexajanecollins

#eric dier #eric dier imagine #eric dier imagines #football imagines #football imagine #my writing #original #carry you home

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anabe23bookwormstuff · 3 years ago

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I. Fear and blood

(I played around with the ages because I wasn't sure how old Rey and Ben were, I just know for a fact that he is ten years older. Somewhere else I read that she was five when her parents left her on jakku and that Ben was 23 or 24 when he turned to the dark side so... in order forthings to work out I decided that... Rey is in this moment nine years old, soon to be ten. Ben is twenty and has recently joined Snoke, the other details will be told in the story but about their ages I think this is all. Thanks)

Exegol

Rey stood up, her grandfather had lifted her in the air and let her fall to the ground.

"I'm sorry" she said, having trouble breathing and clutching her body as she stood up, tall, and looked her master.

"Don't say you're sorry, make it right!" he roared. This time some of the sith eternals were watching and clapped when Palpatine screamed.

Rey's eyes were burning but she couldn't allow herself to cry.

"Azam, Azam, Azam" they chanted her name, again and again, making her more angry.

She concentrated once again, when she closed her eyes she felt a tear rolling down her cheek, and it raged her to be so weak. She extender her hand and with all of her anger and throbbing pain in her head she felt the big rock.

It's surface, it's weight and her force pulling it up.

She started sweating from the effort and panicked when a lightning flashed in front of her eyes, that last shot of fear was what helped her lift the rock and throw it away.

"Good, good!" Palpatine said.

"Silence! Azam, you've done well today. You can leave but you're to come back in two hours for your next task, understood?" His grandfather lowered to look her straight in the eye.

He could see her sweat, even blood on her lips, maybe from when he smashed against the floor or because she had bit her lips during her concentration. He smiled. He felt hate, fear, rage, she was tired, all of this emotions coming from her.

His grandaugther would be the greatest Sith of all times.

"Yes, master" she responded.

Rey tried to ignore the shivers going up and down her spine as she walked to her room again. More like her own little cave on this horrible planet, and lit up a fire to warm her up.

At least here she knew there was no one else watching her.

She examined herself, today's bruises and was glad that at least this time she hadn't broken anything. She noticed that some blood had dripped on her shirt and then felt the sting on her lips.

She got a glass of water and quickly cleaned her open lip, she would have to remember not to touch it for at least a week until it healed.

She sat on the floor and closed her eyes for a second.

"Come on!" she heard someone say. It was a man's voice she had never heard around here. She looked around her room with fear, only to find nothing.

Maybe she was imagining things again. It sometimes happened to her, those ecoes of things that weren't happening there, or flashes of images of somewhere far away... she wondered if she was crazy.

Elsewhere

"Kylo, run faster" Snoke's voice filled all the spaces.

He ran as fast as he could, leaving behind shadows of his past.

"Faster!" Snoke shouted and the ground beneath his feet shattered a little.

Kylo's feet hurt and he was drenched in sweat, he wasn't sure how long had he ran for but it felt like hours.

This wasn't a punishment, Snoke had told him earlier, this was something he had to do because he wanted him to be better.

To overcome his pain and use it as a strength.

"Can I rest... for a moment?" Kylo asked through gritted teeth.

"No, you must keep running"

But he felt like he couldn't, he'd breath the wrong way and now he coughed, unable to breath right and he had slowed down a little.

"Come on, don't be useless.!"

He composed himslf as he could and clenched his fists forcing himself to go faster and further.

"It was good, better than last week" Snoke said when he was finally allowed to stop.

Kylo could varely stand up.

"I'm glad, master." Kylo said, collapsing and trying to hide it by adopting a respectful stance. One knee on the floor and the other bent.

"Maybe one day you'll have proper condition. Now, move. Get yourself something to eat and finish your tasks before tomorrow" Snoke order.

The sudden warth Kylo had received from his master, former friend, was now gone.

He fell to his knees when Snoke was gone and allowed himself to let out his pain.

His feet were covered in blisters, some had exloded, stinging even more.

He felt like a failure, never able to reach his true potential, never able to please his master.

It wasn't the first time he felt like this, and it grgew even more and more everyday.

In the beginning he had found trust in Snoke, a hope for a master who wouldn't turn his back on him and actually believed in him... but then, as his training started Snoke became more and more severe with him.

And in a sick way Kylo only wanted to gain his approval.

He retired to finish his tasks and after a very long and exhausting day he was allowed to go to sleep.

He hated sleeping. At least for the past years... after the incident at Luke Skywalker's academy he almost always had the same dream.

Luke would come at night, to his room and try to kill him in his sleep with his lightsaber, then he would wake up covered in sweat and struggle to fall back asleep again.

He wanted to go back with the knights of Ren because they didn't sleep much, or even if they did they all had weird sleeping times and their noises would distract him enough to sleep well.

He read until he fall asleep and to his surprise he dreamed of a girl, again.

He had never been able to see her face, only hear her talk, or see her sitting somewhere, dark. Always dark and cold.

This time he saw her with a knife on her hand as she did something... he couldn't walk closer but after a moment he understood that the girl was carving something with the knife.

This dream quickly changed into a memory of him hurting Henix and he woke up startled.

"Like always" he mumbled, closing his eyes again and trying to calm down.

"Azam, finish writing it and then I'll tell you the surprise" His master instructed.

This was one of the lessons that Rey hated the most. The sith language had never been easy for her, at least now she had a decent writing but still... there were words that confused her.

"Do you want me to read it?" she stood up and showed her grandfather her notebook, she was proud.

"Go ahead"

Rey cleared her throath thearically and began.

"I Azam, follow the Sith code, which says: Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion I gain strength. Through strength I gain power.Through power I gain victory. Through victory my chains are broken, the froce shall free me." she finished reading as Palpatine though about his young apprentice.

"Good"

"Graandfather... what is peace?" Rey asked after a moment.

"You don't have to wonder about such thing right now, Azam." he retorted.

He lowered himself a little to take her hand.

Nothing. Just curiosity. It was good that this was as far as her mind was going.

He liked how easy it was to read her young mind, her feelings.

"I have a surprise for you ,Azam" he then said.

"What is it?" Rey would've jump with excitement but the last time she did she was punished and since that day she had learned to keep her reactions at bay.

"Would you like your own lightsaber?" Palpatine asked, making Rey see a quick vision of herself wilding a bright red lightsaber.

"Yes, yes. Of course, only if you think I'm ready" she added. She had trained with a quarterstaff before and his master always reminded her that one day she'll earn her lightsaber.

"You may be, but first. I want you to do one simple thing" the cables holding him up directed him backwards.

(So... what's coming it's definately child abuse, psychological abuse. In case you are triggered by this in any way I want to warn you. I feel terrible putting Rey through this, even Ben will have to face some abuse himself but... the story needs it. I don't think it's okay in any level, I just think it gives them a background for how I want their minds to be at and the story to evolve. That's all, keep reading if you want.)

Rey waited patiently for her master to give her instructions. Her hands wanted to tangle on her long hair, which was now loose and would help her calm down a little but she knew she couldn't.

"Come here" he called.

She didn't hesitate.

"Open your hands and extend them"

She did and suddenly she felt something, a weight, little legs pressing against her palm.

Palpatine placed his hands over hers and closed them, leaving whatever he had put in her hands trapped inside.

Only then she started to feel panick.

"Kill it" he declared.

"What... why?" Rey identified the creature as one of the rats that roamed around the planet.

"Kill. It" Palpatine's hands started to put pressure on hers, closing more around the rat.

"Wait... wait, pleas-"

"Are you trying to defy me?!" he questioned. A lightning revealed his raised eyebrow and empty eyes.

She shivered.

"No, master. But... master, is this ne-"

His hands went to her wrists and made pressure, faint lightnings started to appear on the tip of his fingers too. She started crying without being able to stop it.

"Azam!" she wanted to shout that her name wasn't even that.

"Please... please" she couldn't let the rat go but she couldn't crush it either.

"Are you afraid?" he quuestioned.

"Yes!"

"Do you feel bad?"

"Yes!" her eyes were closed as she cried, the pressure on her wrists was hurting her and the animal on her hands had started scratching her,t rying to get away, hurting her too.

"Why? therer's nothing to feel bad about Azam. Do it!" his hands went back to hers.

"Wait! wait, please" Azam was breathing heavy now.

"It's you or this animal!" he shouted. The animal was now bitting Rey's skin.

She wasn't sure that her grandfather would hurt her... but she couldn't trust it either.

"Come on!" he shouted again and again to do it.

"I- I can't" she cried and only opened her eyes when she felt a slap across her face.

"You must be angry, you must hate me in this moment, and that hate is exactly what makes you strong. Stop caring about it! This stupid creatures life has nothing to do with you, it doesn't affect you. Your power lies upon using this fear and hate to do what I've asked of you." His voice was softer.

Rey thought about it, she closed her eyes and tried to clasp her hands together. The animal's cries intensified and a smile grew on Palpatine's face.

In the end... the girl was not ready to do it.

She threw the animal away, it hit the floor pretty hard, but she hadn't put enough strength to kill it and it started running away the moment it hit the ground, only to be burn in a second by Palpatine's lightning.

"Stupid girl" he spat at Rey.

"You've dissapointed me, Azam" as he came close to her Rey started crying again.

"Shut up. You need to learn to be strong, and today you've been weak. If you keep caring like this, you're never gonna allow the force to give yo true power. Go! and I hope that you think about your actions, because sooner or later, you'll pass this test." he retired and then she ran to her room.

She cleaned her wounds and noticed the bruises on her wrists. Her reflection on the small bathroom mirror was even worst than she imagined.

Her cheek was crimson red and the wound on her lip had opened again. Then she looked at her hands, they had stopped bleeding but the scratch and bite marks would be there for a while.

Her eyes were red from the tears and her nose was irritated.

In another place of the galaxy Kylo Ren found himself staring at his hands, for no reason, and a chill went down his spine.

"Hurry up, boy" Snoke said noticing that Kylo had stopped walking.

"Yes, master" he kept walking and tried to shake off the sudden sadness that had came over him. It felt odd, out of place, not even like it came from him.

It distracted him the rest of he way to another place where Snoke was taking him to train.

#star wars #reylo fanfic #kylo ren #adam driver #adam driver fanfic

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