#hes just standing there quietly clutching a shotgun like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daryl-dixon-daydreams · 4 years ago

Photo

Words: 6,377 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, violence, gore, death, sexuality, nudity, typical TWD A/N: I didn't do nearly as many read-throughs with this one so there are probably typos. And this part was getting HELLA long, so I ended up cutting it in a different place buuuuut that means you'll probably get the next chapter a little sooner! A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: The communities strike at The Saviors.

Your name: submit What is this?

“Everybody knows what they’re supposed to do?” Rick glanced around one final time at all of you gathered together. The air was tense and silent. He nodded. “Alright. Then let’s get this done.”

The crowd broke up a little chaotically as everyone headed to their positions. You watched with some apprehension, wondering just who was leaving now and wouldn’t return… Your reverie was broken by Aaron who ran up and grabbed you into a tight hug. Eric appeared shortly after.

“You be safe,” Aaron said, squeezing you tight. You wrapped your arms around him and returned it, shutting your eyes and hugging him back extra tight.

“You too. Both of you.”

Eric grabbed you next and seemed to give you an extra-long squeeze. “Go be your badass self, okay?” he said as he finally broke apart from you. “And we’ll see you back at home.” You nodded and gave his shoulder one last affectionate pat.

“Take care of each other,” you said, drinking in the sight of the two of them, your brow furrowed with worry.

They nodded earnestly and you exchanged a few more words of parting before they headed to their assigned cars. You watched them climb in, your stomach turning with anxiety.

You felt gentle fingers on your lower back and knew immediately that it was Daryl. You spun to face him and your worried expression was reflected on his face. “This is it,” he drawled.

“Yep,” you agreed with a nod.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip. “Wish we didn’t have to be apart for it,” he said quietly.

“I know. Me too. But we both have to play our roles, right? We’ve got jobs to do.”

He nodded before glancing around briefly and grabbing your hand. “C’mere,” he said, tugging you a little way away from the crowd to a more secluded spot. When he spun around again to look at you, you could truly see in his blue eyes how uneasy he was. He clasped your face and drank in the sight of you, trying to draw strength from the way you were looking up at him. He pulled you in against him with the other hand, light on your lower back. He gave you a pointed look. “I’ll see ya after,” he said vehemently.

You nodded again, gulping at the tightness in your throat. “After.”

Daryl leaned down and heatedly pressed his lips to yours, setting you ablaze. His tongue flicked across your lower lip and you parted yours to allow entrance for him, kissing him back feverishly, your arms looped around his neck as you arched into him. When Daryl’s lips finally softened, he didn’t pull away completely. You both were out of breath and off-balance from that kiss and he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes shut, just breathing you in for a moment longer, feeling you solid beneath his hands.

His blue eyes finally opened and met yours again and now he felt braver, stronger.

“Daryl,” you said, not meaning for it to come out in a whisper but it did. “I love you.” Your eyes flickered between his.

He couldn’t help how his lips curved into a small smile when you said that, every time. He clasped your face again in both hands, looking deeply into your eyes, memorizing the flecks of color. “I love ya, too.” He’d gotten better at hearing it and at saying it. He pressed one more urgent kiss to your lips and then laced his fingers with yours. The two of you headed back out to depart for battle.

Rosita strode over and held her hand out to you for a fist bump. “Ready, chica?” she asked.

You nodded and gave her a small smile as you bumped her fist with yours. You had your game face on now. Any trace of worry or fear in your expression was gone. “Let’s do it.”

“Hey—ya watch out for each other, alright?” Daryl said to both of you.

“We’ve got this,” Rosita said. “Don’t worry.”

Daryl nodded and gave you one last look before heading to his bike.

You caught Rosita’s eyes. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Soon you were behind the wheel in the vehicle with Rosita riding shotgun and all the supplies loaded in back.

“Alright, let’s run through it again,” you said, clutching the steering wheel much harder than necessary.

Rosita laughed a little dryly. “We’ve been through it a hundred times!”

“I know, but—it calms me down,” you muttered, glancing over at her.

She gave you a knowing look and nodded. “I know. Okay. We set the charges—all ten—main highway and the side roads that would lead to Alexandria. Then, we get the hell out of Dodge before any potential Saviors come our way and hopefully get blown to pieces... You drop me to rendezvous with Carol and you head for clean-up duty and assistance at the outpost. After, everyone meets back at Hilltop.”

You let out a forced exhale. “Okay. Okay. We’ve got this.”

You pulled over as you arrived at the first spot you were going to wire up and both of you hopped out to grab the devices you’d built. They’d trigger if something heavy enough, like a vehicle, tripped the pressure hose you laid across the road. By the time you had them assembled and armed you were already dripping with sweat. Rosita looked about the same as you climbed back into the SUV.

You wiped a hand across your brow and glanced over at her. “One down,” you said.

“Nine to go,” she said, clicking her seatbelt and let out a nervous breath. She glanced back at the supplies stacked in the back. “Can’t believe we’re finally doing this. About damn time,” she said. “That bastard and all his assholes deserve to pay for everything they’ve done.”

You felt her eyes on your face and glanced over.

“I just want you to know that you’re one of us. Family. Totally and completely,” she said.

Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but smile at her. “Thanks. Feel like we won the lottery with Aaron finding all of you,” you replied.

“Especially, Daryl, right?” she said knowingly, laughing at your expression.

You could feel your cheeks burning with a blush. “Shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes at her and turned them back to the road.

“You’re really good for him though, you know. In all seriousness.” Rosita watched as you just chewed on your bottom lip a bit nervously. “I’ve never seen him so happy. And that’s even with us all being right in the middle of this goddamn shitstorm.”

“Well… I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy either,” you said, feeling your cheeks redden again. You cleared your throat and laughed a little bashfully. “Alright, enough distracting me. I’m trying to keep my game face on. We’re almost at the next point,” you said, slowing the vehicle. You and Rosita repeated your set-up at all the assigned locations. At the last one she extended a fist to you again and you happily bumped it.

“See you back home,” she said. “Be careful.”

“I will.” You waved and were turning away to move your gun onto the center console when you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to see Carol behind you. “Everything alright?” you asked her. Rosita was waiting by Carol’s vehicle.

Carol grabbed you into a hug and you let out a small surprised noise. “Oh—th—thanks,” you said, managing to hug her back.

She gave you a fond look when she pulled back. “Come back in one piece, alright? If something happens to you—Daryl—”

“Hey. You, too,” you said seriously. “But nothing is happening to any of us, Right?”

Carol simply nodded, still looking apprehensive, and rushed back to Rosita and her vehicle to take off to their next position. You forced out an exhale as they sped off and climbed back into the SUV. Alone.

You were feeling extra anxious now. It was agonizing without any way to keep contact with everyone and you kept having flashes of almost overwhelming worry. Enough time had passed that everyone would be in the thick of things and if things were going to go sideways, they almost certainly had by now… But the revving and hum of the engine was somehow comforting as you sped toward your next location. Your plan was to a help at the spot where Aaron and Eric would be with a big group, clearing out an outpost. You had some other homemade IEDs in the back in case they were needed, but mostly you just wanted to be another gun and set of eyes.

You pushed the gas pedal down to the floor as you cruised down the highway. You were making good time when you suddenly felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You squinted up ahead and could see some obstacle in the road. You pressed your foot to the brake to slow a little, and eventually you could finally make out that it was an unfamiliar vehicle almost completely blocking both lanes. you noticed there were a few people standing on the side of the road with weapons. Saviors.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath. Your mind was racing as you tried to figure out what to do. You thought you could scrape through on the edge of the lane if you were going fast enough to make yourself a hard target to shoot at or stop. But if they shot out your tire or something… “Fuck it,” you said out loud, and you moved your foot back to the gas pedal and depressed it to the floor again. The SUV leaped over the concrete, the engine roaring to life. “Come on. Come on…”

You were almost to the group of Saviors when you registered some object flying through the air, hurled by one of the men on the side of the road. You watched it as if in slow motion and by the time you realized what it likely was it was too late. All you could do was brace yourself as the grenade exploded just in front of the hood of your vehicle. The shockwave from the fireball was strong enough to blow and roll your vehicle back and on its side into the ditch in the middle of the highway. You vaguely registered the sound of screaming metal tearing against concrete, deafening cracks and crunches, and shattering glass as the SUV rolled over and over before the vehicle came to rest in the grassy ditch on the driver’s side.

Move. You have to move. Move. You couldn’t hear anything but a high-pitched ringing in your ears and your vision was splotchy and blurred with dark and red spots as you tried to keep your eyes open. Your vision seemed to go in and out, blurred and then sharpening, and then blurring again. Somehow you managed to get your bearings and struggled until you could undo your seatbelt. You registered that the windshield was completely busted and you maneuvered until you could kick it out. There was so much adrenaline coursing through you that you didn’t feel any pain, even though you were vaguely aware of a decent amount of blood on your body and hands. You saw your rifle laying down by the pedals and felt for your pistol with the other hand, making sure it was still in its holster on your leg. It was.

You vaguely heard shouting coming from the direction you assumed The Saviors were in. And it was then that you suddenly remembered the IEDs in the back of the vehicle. “Oh, fuck. Fuck!” You scrambled to climb out through the kicked-out windshield. “Shit, shit, shit!” The devices hadn’t been completely assembled or armed, but a violent car crash like the one you had just experienced definitely was enough to fuck them up and make them unstable. You let out a groan as you climbed to your feet, keeping bent over low and trying to shelter behind the turned over vehicle even as you struggled to put as much distance as possible between yourself and it. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

The crack of a gun was shortly followed by a bullet whizzing past you and you threw yourself flat to the ground and rolled over on your back so you could look back in the direction of your attackers. The tall grass in the ditch concealed you fairly well, but it also prevented you from being able to see how close they were. You were panting from exertion and the growing trickle of pain that was coming back to you now that the initial wave of adrenaline was waning made it hard to think straight. You sat up and barely peered over the tall grass, the stock of your rifle pressed into your shoulder, ready to be raised completely.

The Saviors were moving cautiously toward the vehicle, all doing their signature whistling which still sent chills through you. One was out ahead and moving in your direction. Where a moment before you had been rushing away and hoping that the explosives in the back of the SUV would remain stable, now you started wishing for the opposite. “Come on, you piece of shit. Blow the fuck up,” you muttered under your breath. You raised the rifle to your shoulder and took aim at the leader moving toward you as best you could without revealing yourself. It was still hard to see from your low vantage point on the ground, but you weren’t about to stand up and draw fire from all of them at once if you could help it.

You didn’t think they knew who you were yet, because they had shot at you seemingly to kill. Negan’s ominous words rang in your mind again, about wanting you alive.

“Why don’t you come on out?” the leader yelled, sweeping his gaze side to side as he slowly moved away from the SUV. “You’re all alone out here and you’ve got no way to get anywhere! You’re probably hurt! If you surrender now we’ll treat you reeeeeal nice. Promise!”

You heard faint laughter from the other men hanging back by the vehicle, apparently still trying to pry a door or something open to more closely inspect what was inside.

“Run, run, little rabbit! Come on!” The leader shouted again.

You were just about to shout something back, getting ready to squeeze off a rifle round, when there was another tremendous explosion and you felt the shockwave run right through you, throwing you back flat to the ground as the hot air and concussive blast rushed past. Smoke drifted over you as you stared up at the blue sky and you could hear the raining of some debris falling back to the ground.

You knelt in the tall grass and cautiously looked over at the blackened skeletal remains of your vehicle, flames still licking out from the interior. The bodies of the Saviors that had been closest to the explosion were still and maimed on the ground. You paced cautiously closer, looking for the leader, and you finally found him on the ground, flat on his stomach, apparently still disoriented from the blast, but largely unhurt.

He tried to get up as he suddenly registered your presence but you pushed the muzzle of your rifle into his back. “Where are the fucking keys to your truck?” you demanded. “Hands up! Where I can see them!”

He complied.

“Keys!” you demanded again.

“My back pocket!” he said.

“Don’t fucking move,” you growled again. You bent down and patted his pants pockets, feeling something in the left one and reaching in to pull out the keys. Just then the Savior made a quick move and pushed himself up off the ground onto his hands and knees. The movement knocked you slightly back as he bumped into your rifle. He was spinning around and reaching for a pistol at his hip when you instinctively shouldered your gun and fired. The round struck him squarely in the chest and he fell back to the ground, landing hard and lying still after a brief moment. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. You bent down again and grabbed the keys you had dropped.

You stood over the dead Savior’s body and unsheathed your knife, cringing as you plunged it into his temple so he wouldn’t turn. You went to do the same to the others killed in the explosion. As you moved, you started to register that your entire body felt bruised but you stopped yourself from really looking for injuries yet. Not here. Time to go.

You rushed over to the Savior’s truck and peered in the bed, looking underneath a heavy tarp. There were boxes and boxes of ammo and a couple crates of automatic weapons. Obviously, these guys were moving merchandise to a new place when shit started to hit the fan. They’d probably just been told to watch the main road when you came along. You breathed a sigh of relief and tried to get your heart rate and breathing to return to normal. “Okay… I’m okay…”

Climbing hastily into the driver’s seat, you inserted the key and the truck rumbled to life. You turned and headed in the direction of the outpost, again pressing your foot almost to the floor.

By the time you arrived, you could tell that things were apparently over. There was no active shooting and you could see your people moving around methodically, dealing with the casualties so you weren’t adding any more walking dead to the world. You immediately shut off the engine and forced the truck into park even before it had really stopped moving. You rushed out into the maze of barricades, searching desperately for anyone you recognized. You felt people’s eyes on you as you passed them and had a sense from their expressions that you looked pretty rough. “Aaron!” you yelled. “Aaron! Eric!”

You couldn’t explain it but you felt suddenly frantic and your stomach rolled with nausea. “AARON!? ERIC?” You rushed through the debris and searched urgently. You rounded barricade after barricade but weren’t finding them and the hard pit that formed in your stomach just got heavier and heavier, until finally you rounded one last truck and saw them. You stalled and the air was ripped from your lungs.

Aaron was on the groun and hunched over Eric who was leaning up against a tree. With even a brief glance it was easy to tell that Eric was already gone. He was dead. Gone. Just like that. “No. No… No, no, no. No!” Your feet propelled you forward but you fell to your knees still a short distance away, your legs suddenly giving out. You crawled the last few feet to Aaron’s side. You didn’t want to look at Eric’s vacant expression and the paleness of the skin on his face but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it for a long time. You could feel hot tears streaming down your face and the saltiness stung. You gathered yourself enough to glance over at Aaron who was just hunched over and sobbing in agony, clutching to Eric’s hand like it was a lifeline, like maybe if he just didn’t let go then this wasn’t real. You gently pressed a hand to his back and he startled a little at the contact, apparently realizing you were there now for the first time. He straightened up slightly and the questioning look and disbelief on his face were the same you were feeling. “Aaron,” you managed to croak out. “Aaron, I’m—I’m sorry.” You could barely get the words out. You shook your head, whirling from the ramifications of Eric’s silent and still form lying there heavily. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered again, now completely breaking down like he was. Tears streamed faster down your face and you felt your throat constrict with emotion. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. “Aaron—”

Aaron’s crying began again as he looked at you and you grabbed him and pulled his head to your shoulder. The two of you were clinging onto each other and you did your best to pull yourself back together as he went to pieces. There was nothing you could tell him… You couldn’t tell him it would be okay. You didn’t know that. What could you possibly say? The love of his life was laying dead beside you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl arrived back at Hilltop and hurriedly parked his bike. The community was in chaos with the wounded being rushed for care, people searching for their friends and loved ones, and many just standing around in a daze. Daryl spotted Rosita and Carol and stalked hurriedly over to them. He accepted a relieved hug from Carol before turning to look at Rosita. “How’d it go? Any problems?” he drawled.

Rosita shook her head. “No. No problems. We got everything set up like clockwork. Only—”

Daryl’s stomach twisted. “Only what?”

Carol stepped forward again. “Y/N isn’t back yet and we were expecting her by now. And we haven’t seen Aaron or Eric either.”

Daryl felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Well, is anybody from that outpost back yet? Maybe we need to send another group up there.”

“Some of them are back already,” Rosita said. “But nobody seems to know—”

“I’m goin’,” Daryl growled, immediately turning on his heel and heading straight back for his bike.

“I’ll come with you,” Carol said, starting after him.

“No! Ya stay here and help! And if ya see Rick tell him where I went!” he roared over his shoulder.

Daryl pushed his limits on his bike, racing to follow the path you would have driven after Rosita split off from you. He spotted a column of dark smoke rising up into the air ahead and felt like a knife had twisted in his heart again. He urged his himself on even as terror about what he could find made it hard to breathe.

All he saw when he first arrived was what was left of a vehicle he knew to be yours on its side, smoldering in the ditch. Daryl gulped and tried to stop bile from rising into his throat. He climbed off his bike and grabbed his gun, cautiously and fearfully moving toward the vehicle. He stopped a short distance away, his heart pounding, and had to pace a few times, reeling, steeling himself, before he had the courage to move closer. He felt shaky as he approached the bashed-out windshield and peered inside.

He heaved a momentary sigh of relief when he saw no body inside. You weren’t in there.

But where were you?

Daryl began to look around and found some trails in the tall grass. He followed them and discovered the bodies of four men. Each of them had a stab wound in their temple, obviously to prevent them from turning.

Okay. This looked like your handiwork. The archer breathed another sigh of relief. However, he knew you’d likely been in your vehicle when it had crashed and he had no way of knowing where you were and whether or not you were badly injured. There was also still the possibility that more Saviors had arrived and grabbed you. He headed back to his bike and climbed on, deciding to drive the rest of the way to the outpost you were supposed to be heading to, keeping his eyes open for any sign of you.

He rode in strenuous anxiety the rest of the way, searching the road ahead and each side as he went, but seeing nothing that pointed to your whereabouts. When he finally made it to the outpost and parked his bike, he was relieved to see that the battle was over and clearly the Saviors had lost. There were still a few of Alexandria and Hilltop’s people milling around and Daryl started his search for you, his stomach twisting every time he came upon a body, worried he would look down and see that it was you.

He finally rounded one of the armored trucks and froze. His heart sank back into his stomach. You and Aaron were on the ground. You had your arm around Aaron and Daryl could tell he was sobbing against you by the hitched, uneven breaths he was gasping in and the way his shoulders were shaking. The reason why was perfectly clear. Eric’s pale and still form was leaned up against the tree and there was a shockingly large stain of deep crimson on his stomach.

Daryl forced himself to move closer to the scene and lightly touched your other shoulder. You straightened up and looked up at him, your expression one of pure agony and your wide eyes filled with tears.

You were battered, bloody, and bruised, and Daryl was pretty sure there was glass in some of the flecked wounds on your face. Your arms were cut and bleeding, but Daryl knew you weren’t feeling any of those injuries right now.

There was nothing to say, so Daryl just stood there silently looking at you for a long moment, feeling a sharp ache between his lungs that seemed to grow the longer he stood there.

You sniffled and cleared your throat, turning back to Aaron and clasping his face in both hands, making him look at you. His eyes were red and puffy and there was a constant flow of tears down his cheeks. “Go with Daryl,” you murmured to him. “Aaron. Listen to me. Go with Daryl, okay?”

Aaron’s eyes frantically moved back to Eric’s body and his expression was desperate.

“Come on,” you said, climbing gingerly to your feet and pulling Aaron up with you, even while he refused to tear his eyes away from Eric. “Go with Daryl,” you said again. You nudged him away and he finally complied, stepping back. Aaron wandered away toward the nearest vehicle in a daze.

You stared down at Eric’s body, feeling suddenly numb, and Daryl watched as you unsnapped the loop of the sheath that covered the hilt of your knife.

Daryl stepped forward again. “Y/N. Ya ain’t gotta—I can—I can take care of it,” he said gently.

“No. I need to.” You turned and looked at Daryl again and renewed tears flowing down your cheeks. “I need to. I—I want to. I can do it.”

Daryl nodded, his chest aching, and he slowly retreated to stand with Aaron.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Later that night, once you had finally returned to Hilltop with Aaron and Daryl, you insisted on digging a grave and burying Eric yourself. A small group of Alexandrians who had known him gathered to pay their respects, but they finally all drifted away. Maggie was able to convince Aaron to come away to be looked over by the doctor. The archer found you alone, sitting in a cloudy daze on the ground, staring at the newly erected grave marker. Daryl anxiously chewed on his bottom lip and knelt down beside you, gently putting a hand on your back.

His touch seemed to bring another swell of emotion in you and you gasped in a shaky breath and tried not to fall to pieces again.

Daryl’s blue eyes whirred over you and studied all the injuries you’d sustained that day, but none was hurting you more deeply than the loss of one the people you cared the most dearly about. You were exhausted and defeated and Daryl knew it was going to be his job to get you back on your feet. And he was going to do it.

He wrapped his arm around you and spoke gently. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You simply stared straight ahead at the grave, still seemingly lost in the veil of your grief.

“Y/N. Hey. Look at me,” Daryl urged you. “Look at me.”

You finally turned your eyes back to him and they seemed dark compared to the light he was used to seeing in them. Daryl gently clasped your face and you closed your eyes at the contact, falling against him the next moment like you had nothing more to give. Daryl wrapped you against him tightly and smoothed his hands lightly over your back. “I know. M’sorry. M’so sorry.” He left a kiss in your hair and held you for a long time. Finally, you pulled back and looked up at him, your eyes still glistening a little. “C’mon. Let me patch ya up.”

You finally nodded and Daryl helped you to your feet. He kept an arm looped around you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, and you followed him back to the familiar trailer you had shared before. Daryl sat you down on the couch and went to his pack and dug out the first aid kit. He returned and sank down on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, his lips pulled in between his teeth.

He grabbed the pair of tweezers and gently turned your face so he could see where some glass was still embedded in your forehead and cheekbone, apparently from your head hitting the side window and shattered debris when the vehicle finally came to rest. He plucked a several pieces out and you barely flinched. He found a few more bits of glass in your shoulder and arm as well as the palms of your hands. You sat frozen as he tended to you, a faraway look in your eyes. Daryl grabbed a few alcohol swabs and opened them, dabbing at the cuts and scrapes on your cheekbone and forehead. He gently clasped your chin and examined the other side of your face. Your expression was vague and disconnected and it was worrying Daryl immensely.

He shifted his attention back to your arms, cleaning off the dried blood and wounds the best he could, some of which began bleeding freely again. There were angry red marks on your wrists from the chemicals in the air bag.

“Hey,” he said, moving your hair away from your face. “Ya wanna take a shower? Should look the rest of ya over too,” he said gently.

For the first time since he’d sat you down you looked right at him and seemed to really see him. Your expression was still desperate, but you nodded.

Daryl nudged his nose up, returning it. “Alright. C’mon,” he said, standing up and helping you to your feet. You winced a little as you moved again. Your whole body felt like it was bruised and stiffening. Daryl left you standing in the doorway of the little bathroom as he ran the water and tested the temperature. “Alright,” he said, stepping out. “I’ll be right out here if ya need me.” He started to slip past you but your hand floated to his chest and landed lightly there, freezing him instantly.

He easily read the request in your eyes. You didn’t want to be alone. You needed him.

His arms circled around you again and he nodded. “Alright. S’okay.” You collapsed against him again. You shut your eyes and focused on the steady sound of his heart beating. “I’ve got ya,” he said softly. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He pressed a kiss to your hair.

You allowed Daryl to gently move you into the bathroom. He shut the door softly behind you and his hands landed lightly on your hips. He studied the bruising and cuts on your face in the brighter light and this time felt a hot swell of rage. Thank God you were alright. It was too damn close… “Let’s take a look at ya, alright?” he said gently. He hesitated before grasping the hem of your dirty and bloodstained shirt and pulled it up over your head. You couldn’t stop the sharp intake of air between your teeth as you struggled to raise your left arm. As you were free from the fabric, Daryl saw the dark bruising from the seatbelt that started at your shoulder and cut across your chest.

He clasped your face again lightly before sweeping your hair back. “How’s yer neck? Sore?”

You nodded. “A little.”

The first words you’d spoken since you’d told him you would take care of Eric… Daryl was quite sure it was more than a little.

You undid the holster with your pistol still in it that was strapped to your thigh and you pulled your knife in its sheath away from your jeans. Daryl’s eyes took in the bumps and bruises on your bare skin, the cuts and abrasions on your arms, as you undid the clasp of your bra and let it fall carelessly to the floor.

Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt and Daryl helped you slip it off him. The range of movement in your shoulder was limited by the swollen and stiff muscles around the joint and you winced a little with every movement. Your eyes hungrily drank in the sight of his broad chest and shoulders and you pressed your hands to him immediately, like you wanted to be certain he was real in front of you, grounding, safe. Daryl’s arms gently wrapped you against him, skin to skin. When you broke apart again, you leaned back against the counter and Daryl unbuttoned and unzipped your jeans. He helped you slip out of them, still feeling a little nervous as all of you was bared to him, but your hands found his button and fly and soon he was all skin too, and he stepped into the shower beneath the warmth of cascading water and beckoned you in with a simple tilt of his head.

You were drawn to him and the comfort and safety he gave you like a magnetic. You shut your eyes and let the stream of hot water wash over you. It stung all your wounds but you didn’t care. The sharp sensation was better than the numbness you’d been feeling since— Daryl gently smoothed his hands over your wet skin, his fingers light over every little bruise and cut. He washed the remaining dirt and blood away and you gave into the sensation of being cared for, pushing away the emptiness and nausea that was overwhelming you. Daryl swept your wet hair to one side and kissed your shoulder and your neck so lightly and tenderly it raised goosebumps on your skin despite the warm cloak of the water. He traced his fingers down your spine, letting them wander over the graceful curve of your back before he looped his arm around you from behind, holding you securely against him. You leaned your head back against his chest and tried to convince your muscles to release the tense grip they had on your skeleton.

Daryl thought he felt you soften beneath his hands finally, and the next moment you turned, the water running in rivulets over your collarbone and down your chest, and you looked up at him. He loved the way the water droplets clung to your eyelashes.

“Thank God you’re alright,” you said softly, tears in your eyes again. Your smoothed your hands over his strong chest, your fingers tracing the scars on his skin. “Thank God,” you said again, looping your arms around him and leaning your head on his chest.

“Thank God you are. When I first saw your SUV, I—” Daryl’s hands smoothed over the curves and angles of you again. “S’alright,” he drawled quietly. “We’re alright.”

The pattering of the shower reminded you of the calming sound of rain and you did your best to fill yourself up with this strong man, replacing the empty hole that seemed to have taken hold in your chest since your eyes first landed on Eric’s pale face and Aaron’s anguish.

A short time later, your towel still wrapped around you, Daryl finished patching you up with a gauze pad here and a bandage there. His eyes kept catching on the deep bruise from your seatbelt that cut across your chest. When he was satisfied you were taken care of, you grabbed the kit before he could put it away and tended to some abrasions and wounds he had sustained himself. You lightly rested a hand against his cheek, leaning into him.

“You’ll tell me how today went?” you asked.

Daryl nudged his nose up in a couple nods. “Mhm. Tomorrow. Ya need rest.”

“So do you,” you said, running a wavy strand of his brown hair through your fingers. Your eyes flickered between his for a moment and then shut as you leaned in and met his lips with yours.

Daryl pulled you more tightly into him and tangled his fingers in your hair, kissing you back softly but with a neediness you felt straight to your core. You ran your thumb along the edge of his strong jaw and kissed him with a warmth Daryl felt spread to his chest instantly and bloom outwards.

“C’mon,” he said gently, tilting his head toward the bed. “I ain’t lettin’ ya go all night,” he said earnestly, smoothing your hair away from your face again.

There was a tinge of sadness in your eyes again. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

294 notes · View notes

hxlyhead-harpies · 4 years ago

Text

Fearless (S.H.)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: Steve tries to make your ruined prom night a little bit better. Based on Fearless by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 2,1k

Warnings: None

A/n: this was previously posted on my old blog @/kissingsucks. I deleted that blog a while ago but I want to repost some of my old work from there. It’s been slightly edited because it kind sucked lmao

You honestly didn’t know why you thought this night would go well. You’d spent hours getting ready; perfectly curling your hair, painstakingly applying makeup, and slipping into your beautiful deep red dress. You and Robin had sat giggling in your room and listening to music, preparing for the night ahead: prom. You hadn’t wanted to go, but Robin insisted. Neither of you had gone to many dances throughout high school and she decided that the two of you needed the ‘experience’. So you begrudgingly agreed and bought a pretty dress from Macy’s at the mall the next town over. After getting ready the two of you sat on your porch, waiting for your ride. Eventually, Steve pulled up in his car and stuck his head out the window.

“Wow, you two clean up nice!” He yelled. You and Robin laughed before hopping in. You called shotgun and Robin climbs into the back, mumbling under her breath. Steve turned up the radio before speeding off towards the school.

•••

Steve pulls up in front of Hawkins High and turns to you and Robin.

“Ok both of you,” he says in a mock authoritative tone. You see Robin roll her eyes and a smile creeps across your face.

“No drinking, no drugs, and you must keep a three-inch distance between you and your dance partners,” he says, listing each rule off on his fingers.

“Ok dad,” Robin replies sarcastically. You chuckle before jumping out of the car.

“We’ll be fine Steve,” you assure him. He sighs before reminding you that he’ll pick you and Robin up at eleven. The two of you wave and he drives off.

“I wish we could’ve convinced him to come,” you say to Robin as the two of you make your way to the front door. Robin shrugs before replying, “he graduated last year he’s probably too embarrassed to show up here”. You nod, knowing that it’s probably the truth. But deep down you wished he would decide to come along. When Robin had suggested attending prom, you had imagined the three of you dancing in the middle of the dance floor. Steve in a gorgeous, well-fitting suit. It was a silly fantasy. A result of an even sillier crush on Steve Harrington. It had developed over the summer. You had worked at Scoops Ahoy along with him and Robin, and there was just something about watching him flirt with girls in the stupid sailor costume that made you blush. You thought you did a pretty good job at hiding it but you were convinced Robin knew. Though Steve still seemed oblivious, and for that you were glad. You didn’t want to destroy your friendship. You and Robin push open the doors to the gym and step inside. The dance was themed “city lights” and the gym was adorned with metallic streamers and colorful lights. You smiled widely, and step in, high hopes for the night ahead.

•••

But here you are, an hour later, sitting alone on the bleachers. Prom had been fun for about fifteen minutes. You and Robin danced to Duran Duran and you were practically squealing with happiness. Then you went to grab a cup of punch. The line was long, it took you nearly five minutes to grab cups for you and Robin. You turned around, only to see her huddled in a corner with none other than Tammy Thompson. She was smiling wide and the two were speaking in hushed whispers. You sighed, realizing you couldn’t interrupt her now. If you did you know she’d kill you later. So you trek up the bleachers and drink both cups of punch. And you sit. And sit. And sit. You were too scared to dance alone, and nobody seemed interested in asking you to dance. Robin and Tammy were still off in their own world and there was no hope of stealing Robin back anytime soon. So you found the closest chaperone and asked to use one of the office phones.

•••

The phone rang once before he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Steve it’s (Y/n),” you reply.

“Hey, is everything ok?” He questions.

“Um…” You’re unsure how to answer. “Can you just come pick me up?” you say. You hear shuffling on the other end of the line.

“Yeah give me a few minutes and I’ll be over to pick you guys up,” he replies.

“It’s just me,” you tell him. “Robin is staying.” The shuffling stops.

“Oh. Well, I’ll be there soon anyway,” he says before the line goes dead. You smile at the chaperone and head outside to wait

•••

A mere fifteen minutes later Steve’s car pulls up. It had begun to rain and your hair had lost the artificial curls you’d spent hours perfecting. You sit on a bench out front, your hands crossed against your chest. As soon as you see him you jump up and practically run to the car. As soon as you got in Steve gives you a questioning look.

“Jeez y/n what happened to you.”

“Nothing Steve, it just got boring,” you reply in a huff. Steve furrows his eyebrows.

“Where’s Robin?” he questions.

“She’s talking to Tammy,” you reply and Steve nods, understanding dawning on him.

“No one else to talk to?” he questions. You shake your head.

“I only danced for like ten minutes it was so stupid,” you reply, letting your annoyance show in your tone. You heard Steve chuckle beside you. You steal a quick glance at him. He’s staring down at the steering wheel in front of him, hair in his eyes. Under the soft glow of the singular street light of the parking lot, he looks almost angelic.

“Well that’s not a real prom experience,” he says turning towards you. You shrug before averting your eyes, hoping he didn’t catch you staring. You sit in comfortable silence for a moment, and you wonder when Steve is going to put the car in drive. But instead, he suddenly turns up the random Janet Jackson song playing on the radio and throws open his door. He steps out into the rain, practically soaking his t-shirt immediately, and runs around to your side of the car. He opens your door and extends his hand to you.

“What are you doing Steve,” you question. He smiles widely before grabbing your hand and pulling you outside.

“I’m giving you the full prom experience,” he answers mischievously. You stand in front of him, feeling the cold rain run down your shoulders. Steve begins dancing badly, wildly jumping around and swinging his arms.

“Steve!” you yell, scanning the parking lot to make sure no one can see you.

“Come on Y/n! Have some fun!” he yells back at you. You hug your arms close to your chest. Not quite sure what to do. Steve runs over and grabs your hands, forcing you to jump along to the music with him. You giggle which causes Steve’s smile to widen. Eventually, the two of you are drenched, laughing wildly, and clumsily dancing with each other. The pavement seems to glow under the streetlight and the thunder rolling in the background makes the moment feel magical. You stop for a moment to catch your breath and you grasp Steve’s hands. He holds them to his chest. Staring at you, smiling and breathing heavy. His hair is wet and matted against his forehead, his cheeks are a deep rosy red, most likely from the cold, and he has never looked so beautiful. Suddenly the radio crackles, a commercial break interrupting the music. And the moment is broken. Steve drops your hands and straightens quickly. You blink, the magic you felt only moments earlier dissipating.

“I should uh, get you home,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You nod, and head for the car. Your soaked dress squishes as you lower yourself into your seat and you make a face. You hear Steve chuckle slightly beside you.

He puts the car in drive and heads off towards your house.

He drives along the road, the radio quietly playing, filling the silent air. You look at him, trying not to be too obvious. He runs his hands through his wet hair and you feel a pull in your gut; yearning. You had been kidding yourself. It wasn’t simply a silly little crush. It was a butterflies explode in your chest kind of crush. A sweaty palms and averting eyes kind of crush. A type of crush that is always in your mind, occupying your dreams and thoughts. The kind of crush that never gives you a moment to breathe. The kind of crush you’d dance in a storm with, ruining your best dress, just for the chance to be close to them. And as you’re lost in your thoughts, Steve looks over to you in the passenger's seat and gives you a small smile. You’re frozen, unable to look away from his deep brown eyes. And for a moment he looks like he wants to say something but then the light turns green and he turns back to the road. You look away, your cheeks burning, and stare at your hands.

A few minutes later, Steve pulls into your driveway.

“Well here we are,” Steve says, staring up at your house. You turn slightly towards him.

“Thanks for the ride. Sorry I made you leave early to get me,” you say quietly.

“Hey don’t worry about it. I’ll always be around to give you a ride if you need it,” he says, turning towards you. You glance at the clock on his dashboard and curse under your breath. Steve furrows his brows and glances at the clock himself. It is ten forty-five.

“I should go inside, you probably have to pick up Robin now,” you mumble, fumbling with the door handle.

“Here I’ll walk you up,” Steve says, unbuckling his seat belt.

The two of you walk up the walkway towards your front door. The silence that hangs between you is awkward, something that has never happened with you and Steve before. You arrive at your door and you dig in your small clutch for your keys. You find them and put your key in the lock before turning to Steve.

“Thanks for picking me up early,” you say to him. He shrugs, his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah no problem,” he says, kicking a rock off your porch. You start to turn towards the door but stop yourself.

“And thanks for the mini dance party back at school. You stopped my night from totally sucking,” you say with a slight laugh. Steve smiles slightly, looking at the ground.

“Yeah of course, glad I could help,” he replies. You smile, waiting to see if he’ll say more but he doesn’t. For a fleeting moment, you feel brave and you lean over and give Steve a quick peck on the cheek. He jumps back, eyebrows furrowed.

“(Y/n) I…” He looks at you, confusion clearly written on his face. You cringe before turning to escape into your house. You wonder how you could’ve been so stupid, thinking he might’ve felt the same way. But before you can step into your house a hand grabs your arm and pulls you back. You turn and lock eyes with Steve. His eyes are soft but determined and his face is tense. Before you have a moment to think his lips crash into yours. For a moment the kiss is awkward, teeth knocking into each other. But then the two of you find a rhythm and it’s flawless. You pull away, gasping for air. Steve smiles down at you, his eyes blown, a soft smile gracing his face. For a moment the two of you stare at each other, the air practically buzzing. Steve leans down and kisses your forehead before pulling away.

“Well I guess I better go pick up Robin,” he says, chuckling.

“Yeah she‘ll kill you if you're late,” you say breathlessly. Steve squeezes your hand before turning and heading back to his car. You stand at your door and watch him climb into his seat. Before he drives away he sticks his head out the window.

“I forgot to tell you earlier, but you look beautiful!” he yells to you. You giggle, feeling like a schoolgirl with her first crush before thanking him. He pulls out of your driveway and drives off. You finally open up your front door and collapse against the door frame. And you sit and wonder why you thought this night was going to go horribly. Because it turned out to be the best night of your life.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #joe keery #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine

142 notes · View notes

kisskissbanggang · 4 years ago

Text

Prowl pt. 5

[1Hr. Read/17.4K Words – Human!Jisung x Female Reader, Werewolf!Bang Chan x Female Reader – Monsters!AU, Mostly Plot, NSFW/Smut – Vampires & Werewolves, Mysteries, Suspense, Love Triangles, Jealousy, Developing Feelings, Questionable Coping, Feeding, Blood, Violence, Driven by Instinct, Confessions, Death, Wall Sex, Car Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Public Sex]

Masterlist | Feedback

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : 🌕 ⭒ 🌗 ⭒ 🌑 : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“My little fox,” Chan grinned, “I thought I smelled trouble.”

Your blood ran cold despite the meager clothing you were wearing on the landing, and apparently the others sensed yours and Jisung’s sudden alert at the ghost currently haunting the doorway. However, when you looked behind you, Jisung was nowhere to be seen. There was no time for waiting, though; you stalked down the stairs and tried to shove Chan and Felix back out the door.

“I do not know what the fuck you think you’re doing here,” you hissed, “but it would be in your best interest to get the hell out.”

“It would be in your best interest if we stayed,” Chan shook his head defiantly, “even if you did try to kill me.”

He had the audacity to scoff out a harsh laugh as you grabbed for Lia’s shotgun by the door, but this was quickly pulled right out of your hands. You wheeled around to see Lia holding the gun down by her side.

“Sweetheart,” Lia interjected, her words injected with saccharine propriety. She would’ve tried to shake hands with death before going anywhere, you were sure of it. Judy and Yuna were holding hands where they hid behind the shorter woman, standing tall even as her voice wavered. “Who is this?”

“Remember how I’ve been in some trouble lately?” You glowered. That was all that needed to be said, apparently. Lia was instantly on your side, shooting a glare in Chan’s direction as she raised the head of the gun a couple inches but kept her finger off the trigger.

“I agree, then,” she announced, “I think you’d do well to leave now.”

“Julia, I need to explain something,” Chan tried, hands up in innocence, “I promise I’m not here with any ill-intent against you.”

Lia backed up a step, her eyes darting back to meet yours as you both silently wondered where he learned her name. Before you could follow this line of questioning, though, Jisung made his presence known as he marched down the stairs. Felix’s startled gasp surprised you, and you turned to see what he was reacting to. Your stomach lurched again, threatening to repeat its betrayal from earlier. Jisung held his own gun aloft, the ornate pearl handle clutched in his hand with the barrel pointed squarely at Chan. “We made ourselves pretty fucking clear,” Jisung spat, “and you’ve done more than enough damage already. Get the hell out.”

“I’ve done more than enough damage?” Chan sneered as he snatched Jisung’s wrist, effortlessly twisting it until Jisung let go of the revolver with a hissed curse. Chan handed it to Felix to free up his hand. Thinking quickly, you lunged forward, shoving the younger man back and grabbing the gun yourself out of Felix’s presented palm before stepping back next to Lia.

Chan raised his hands again, but not without reaching into his jacket pocket first. You kept the gun aimed at the floor, finger off the trigger as you eyed him warily. He withdrew the other journal, apparently having found it in the boiler room after all the fuss when you left him to bleed. “I’m in deep shit with the department,” he explained to you, but he still cautiously eyed all the occupants in the room, “I’ve been extending this investigation so long that I’ve lost almost everyone. All my contacts are dropping off the map, all my resources are getting cut off, all of this to try and freeze me out and make me close the case. So this,” he gestured with the journal, “was a blessing. I was able to cross-reference every name and place in here with Shepherd’s record, your record, and even his.” Chan stared daggers at Jisung, who quickly stepped behind you now that he was defenseless again, before Chan looked to Lia now. “You’ve only gone by your real name again in the past ten years, haven’t you? You attended the university as your own granddaughter.”

Lia cautiously eyed Chan before she looked back to you. You were just as stuck. Lia sighed. “What are you asking for exactly?”

“I’ve been with the latest pack trying to get Shepherd’s help. They’ve done everything he’s asked, which means they’ve left quite a bit of damage behind them that hasn’t been accounted for. I want to get to them before they try to finish what they started. I’m here because if they’re as smart as I’m afraid they are, they shouldn’t be far behind me.”

“Is Lia even mentioned in the other journal at all?” You countered.

“The journals are mixed,” Jisung sighed behind you, “literally. When Shepherd completed both volumes, it looked like he unbound the two and mixed the sections into two new bindings.”

“Fine,” Lia decided. All of you stopped to look at her. “If it’ll help stop this once and for all, you can stay. We’ll put you in the guest room by the study… But stay away from my girls.”

“Had no intention of getting close,” Chan reassured her before he tugged at the hood of Felix’s jacket, “and thank you.” Felix gave Judy another grateful smile before Chan pulled him outside.

You wheeled on the poor girl as the front door clicked shut. She cowered by Lia’s arm. “Why did you let them in?!”

“I didn’t know—” she squeaked.

“You didn’t know?! They reek of wolves and—”

“Sweetheart,” Lia scolded you with a deep frown as she stepped in front of Judy. She gently set the shotgun back down by the door. “It’s raining outside. You can hardly smell anything out there. I’ve protected Judy and her sister as long as they’ve been here, so they’ve still never even had to meet a wolf before. They wouldn’t know what one smells like.”

“I’m sorry,” Judy meekly apologized from behind Lia’s shoulder. You heaved out a sigh.

“It’s alright,” you lamented, “you didn’t know. I’m sorry, too.”

“We’re all sorry,” Lia placated, “now let’s deal with this. Take that—” she said as she pointed to the gun still in your hand, “and put it the hell away. Jisung, I hope I never have to see it again.”

“Yes, Lia,” Jisung weakly agreed. He grabbed your sleeve and pulled you upstairs before ducking into his room to grab his things. You helped gather up his belongings, bundling up the clothes and books he’d left out before trotting back down the hall to your own room. Lia could be heard directing Chan and Felix to their room as you shut your door behind you. Jisung jumped as you finally turned on him.

“A fucking gun, Jisung?!” You instantly started.

“I know, I know,” Jisung moaned, “it was reckless and stupid. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Where did you even get this?!”

“I think it was Shepherd’s,” Jisung said quietly, “I found it the night he was killed before the cops came. I have no clue why I took it. It made me feel safe to have it.”

“Do not let me ever see you with this thing again unless you suddenly learn how to use it,” you berated him. You took the gun sitting heavy in your hands and opened the drawer of the bedside table, before setting it inside and slamming it shut. Your hand paused on top of the hardwood surface as you got your thoughts back in order. “How are you feeling?”

“Freaking out a little,” Jisung admitted. “I know it’s stupid.”

“That’s not stupid,” you sighed. You turned to face Jisung, stepping into his space. “Is it him and me?”

Jisung nodded thoroughly.

“I was all yours last night and I’m all yours tonight,” you reminded Jisung before you kissed his cheek in hopes of moving on, before you heard Lia giving Chan a cursory tour of the house outside in the hall. Jisung visibly prickled at the sound.

“I loved you last night and I love you tonight,” Jisung finally returned with a sigh. “Just… promise me. Promise me you won’t talk to that bastard. We don’t talk to him, and we stay the hell away from him.”

“Had no intention of doing otherwise,” you nodded, brushing your thumb along Jisung’s cheek as you cupped his face. He pulled you close, and your gut finally calmed down enough to feel safe for a moment.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : 🌗 ⭒ 🌑 ⭒ 🌓 : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

That first night and the next were utterly disconcerting, having apparently been plucked straight from your own personal purgatory. You could only imagine how Lia and the girls felt. They had been living this quiet and secluded life, only having to worry about the occasional boyfriend or blood donor, and now you’d paraded in an entire heap of trouble. Maybe Chan had a point, an idea you fiercely despised. The whole giant house suddenly felt cramped. Your stomach was in more knots than that first night, and each time you woke up you had to sneak away to the en suite to empty your guts. Nothing felt better.

Not to mention Jisung was a mess. As Chan seemed to finally get back up to speed, walking and working just fine, Jisung was a nervous wreck. He was finally starting to look more put together, his black eye finally faded and a mostly normal glow returning to his skin in the time since Chan worked him over a couple weeks prior. His busted knuckles had faded to simple callouses, and the stitches in his brow weren’t going to scar so badly once you got him to stop picking at them. But that wasn’t the problem. Jisung was hardly leaving your side. The moment you’d found him after waking up, guzzling more coffee than usual in Lia’s kitchen, he would follow you from room to room to room, or join you while you tried to read or get your mind off things. It was night three that you needed to do something about it.

“Jisung,” you finally started, having led him all the way from your room to the laundry room to grab your dry clothes, and back.

“What?”

“You can not keep following me.”

“I’m not following you,” Jisung forced out with a fake laugh.

“Jay, please,” you pleaded, dropping the laundry basket onto the bed and cupping Jisung’s face. “Work with me here. You have to tell me what’s wrong. No secrets.”

“It’s nothing!” Jisung tittered, trying to keep it light as he leaned his soft cheek into your palm. “It’s nothing, I’m just hanging out with you! What else would I be doing?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned, “what about the car? You said it needed work, something about the — what was it — the, er—”

“Timing belt?” He flatly answered.

“Yes!” You replied enthusiastically. “You could be working on the car, or hiking, or—”

“I understand that,” Jisung sighed tiredly, “it’s just, you know—”

“Just what, Jay?”

“Ugh,” Jisung groaned sharply, “it’s you fucking him! I can’t believe I’m admitting it. It was one thing when he was dead and all I could do was get over it but—”

Jisung paused as Chan could be heard berating Felix in the hallway as they walked past. “—I don’t really care, Felix. I’m not doing this to hurt you, I’m telling you because I care and—” Where were they walking come from? They were going towards their room, not coming from it. You looked back to Jisung. He was fuming.

“If I have to think of that idiot’s hands on you one more time I think I’ll try killing him again myself,” Jisung muttered before he turned away from you, hands roughly shoved in his pockets. You quickly stepped forward as the two men could still be heard quietly arguing down the hall. Trouble had apparently been cropping up everywhere once Chan was back to his old self again.

“Jisung? Jay? What did I tell you,” you attempted to reason with him as you grabbed his hand.

“I know, you’re all mine,” he sighed, “but having him be here is god awful and—”

“And nothing, Jisung,” you soothed him. “You’re not going to magically lose me if I’m not in your sight every waking minute. We’re getting past it together. It was the hunger, even though I know that barely matters. I’m all yours.”

Jisung finally softened for a moment, his hand gratefully squeezing yours — that is, until the two wolves could be heard coming back down the hallway. Felix was apparently coming in hot to get his word in. “—don’t understand, Chan. You’re not my dad, you’re not really my brother, and it sounds like the only wrong thing that fucking girl in that fucking room ever did was try to kill you, and I think I’m starting to understand why. Otherwise, all I know about her and her kind is apparently she’s the most perfect fuck you’ve ever had in your life—”

The commotion finally died down when the door to Chan and Felix’s room slammed shut down the hall. Jisung’s face was cryptic as you searched him. “Jisung, I—”

You were cut off into a muffled gasp as Jisung yanked on your hand in his, pulling you into him hard enough that he fell back against the dresser as he desperately kissed you.

“Jisung, talk to me—” you urged him.

“I will, I promise,” Jisung groaned into your mouth as he clutched onto your hips, “I just need you right now, okay?”

He backed up, just a breath away, and his gaze was clouded with whatever maelstrom was taking place inside of him. The mere thought of Jisung being so conflicted over this made your heart crumple in on itself, something you knew you were only coddling as you let him kiss you again. And, really, it was so easy once you realized how much you needed Jisung, too. A shadow lurked in you that you thought was just hunger, whispering to you with that same low voice as before when you had mauled Chan, but what was even louder was the longing that suddenly ripped through you. All you could do was give in to both, kissing Jisung hard in return as he pushed your leggings down and off and grappled you into his arms.

You couldn’t hear Chan and Felix arguing down the hall anymore, but you probably couldn’t anyway between your shared gasps and sighs while Jisung pinned you up against the wall by your bedroom door, fumbling with his zipper before he could sink into you. He keened at the squeeze of your walls around him with what almost sounded like a sigh of relief, his hands clutching your thigh wrapped around him as you gasped in pleasure against him and let the extending tips of your canines graze his throat. Jisung moaned deep while his hands roamed over you, even leaning his head over to let you gently nip into him while he fucked you into the wall. Just that simple action of you piercing him made him stiffen up, his whole body seemingly holding back from tearing into you once you moaned at the taste of him. As much as you craved the sensation, it was easy to forget how much this apparently felt heavenly to Jisung. Your head swam, a cacophony of wanting Jisung, and wanting to feed on Jisung, and wanting to talk to Jisung all yelling over each other until the first wash of blood ran down your throat. Everything in you turned to static. Jisung sighed out an airy whine of pure satisfaction the moment you came up for air, his hand gently cupping your face again.

“I wish I could tell you just how beautiful you are,” Jisung murmured, his voice soft even as he thrust hard into you, “especially like this. I swear your eyes get darker when you feed. It’s—”

The door down the hall swung back open as Chan apparently followed Felix into the hallway. This was actually torture. “—and that’s fine, Chan, whatever, I’m going to get some fucking fresh air, but if you’d like I could remind you of how I fucking held you while you were trying not to die and all you could do was joke that at least she finished you off before she finished you off—”

“Felix, I—” Chan didn’t finish his thought, apparently deciding that he needed to give Felix his space, but not without punching the bannister out of frustration first. However, his bedroom door didn’t close again, and you didn’t hear him go down the stairs. Jisung apparently couldn’t be bothered to wonder the same, or maybe it was in spite of that which led him to thrust more roughly into you, that unresolved jealousy clearly eating through him as you whined and whimpered once you resumed feeding on him again.

The way Jisung fit inside you — or even fit inside your life — seemed almost too well meshed when his breaths began to grow ragged the second you felt your peak coming. You finally felt fed, and Jisung looked so beautiful but so conflicted as you finally winced and sighed through your easy orgasm. Jisung held you steady, still pinning you to the wall and not letting up until he got his.

“Say it again,” he sweetly begged while he dragged his lips along your jaw and throat. You didn’t think twice about it.

“I’m all yours,” you gasped, and held tight onto him as he clutched tighter onto you in return. Jisung sloppily kissed you again before he spilled into you, his hushed groans almost sounding like laments. Chan could finally be heard stalking down the stairs.

Jisung was still a mess, obviously, but the impromptu sex seemed to take the edge off, at least physically. You finally got him to give you a little space. The next night you awoke and didn’t find him drinking his fourth cup of coffee in the kitchen. He wasn’t reading in the study or flipping through channels in the den. When you poked your head outside, you could see light coming from the garage. It was nice, sneaking outside and peeking around the corner, catching Jisung rummaging around under the hood of his car, the sleeves of his worn flannel rolled up to his elbows while he listened to the radio.

Even the next night, again, you found Jisung right back in the garage. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him at all the previous night, you’d had a fun time playing board games for the first time in years with Lia’s girls, but you wondered if perhaps you overcorrected and now Jisung wouldn’t feel the desire to come see you when you woke up anymore. You silently peered into the garage, catching sight of him as he wiped some sweat off his brow and was careful to avoid his healing stitches with the grease on his arm. Jisung looked almost like he was concentrating, and on more than just the car. You couldn’t blame him. With how relaxed Jisung had seemed just the previous week, back when things were starting to look a little brighter, you could imagine he’d finally felt like this whole nightmare was starting to slow down to a manageable pace.

You decided to let Jisung have his space for a little bit, at least if he was seeking it out himself now. Out of sheer curiosity, you decided to check out the edge of the lake while the moon was still high up, the bright crescent more than likely lighting up the water in a gorgeous way. You had a sinking feeling that quiet nights like this should be counted as a blessing. Twigs snapped underfoot, and you carefully walked along the path only somewhat lit by dim lanterns, but froze when you noticed someone out by the water’s edge, lounging in one of the worn lawn chairs by the fire pit.

Chan.

He was seemingly at ease, or at least attempting to be. Apparently Lia had some beer stowed away in the house that you hadn’t bothered to find yet, but Chan had, unless he had his own secret stash. However he’d conjured the bottle in his hand, he nursed the brew as he brooded. You were brought back to that first night, Chan laughing and hanging out with the pack at the bar. He looked so different in such a short amount of time.

Since he’d arrived, Chan had been able to clean up considerably, despite the showing roots in his ashy blonde hair. His style seemed to relax since he no longer needed to blend in with the pack or camp out for extended periods of time to keep out of trouble. Even with only a shave and a shower, he was just as handsome as that boy at the bar ages ago. Who could’ve guessed that he nearly died only recently? For that matter, who knew what he had needed to do to become good as new? You shivered at the thought.

It was sort of calming, watching Chan seemingly not sense that you were observing him as he sat by the lake. You didn’t need to imagine that this wasn’t terribly different from the rest of the day. When you’d asked Jisung in passing, he said the daylight was mostly spent ardently avoiding each other at all costs, minimizing shared space as much as possible and not exchanging any words if necessary, though Felix did seem approachable and friendly in contrast. This was almost humorous, considering Chan didn’t seem to care one bit about you two hanging out with each other now, or even that you existed. No matter how much Jisung was or wasn’t attached to your hip, he barely glanced in your direction. On the rare occasion you did run into Chan in the house, perhaps catching him around a corner, he almost looked mortified to see you. That one puzzled you.

At most, Jisung caught Chan keeping to himself and finally studying his investigation materials or even tinkering around with the van they’d nabbed. This was understandable, you supposed, even on Chan’s part. You could still hear him barking vitriol about Jisung — the worm, according to him — back in the boiler room. You could still hear how desperately he’d insisted you belonged to each other. He could feel it in his skin, he’d said. He’d sounded possessed, something you were scared to consider if you empathized with.

And you’d tried to kill him. Maybe he was just as scared and confused as you were. According to Jisung, Felix was even harder to keep track of, that first squabble apparently setting a standard between the two wolves. So, perhaps, now on top of everything else already sitting on his broad shoulders, now Chan was stuck in a house full of people who hated him.

You left Chan to quietly consider the lake by himself before you headed back up to the house, maybe see what the girls were up to or if Jisung was done working on the car for the night. The back door just off the kitchen softly clicked shut behind you when you suddenly heard the harsh whispers of the girls in the entryway. You hung back in the kitchen, listening to the disembodied voices talk.

“Chae—Judy, you can’t be this selfish over—” Joanne?

“Selfish?!”

“Think rationally, Jude.” Lucy? “Lia almost never has problems like this but this time she does. Think about what she said.”

“Oh my god, you both are being ridiculous, just like her. Neither of you understand.”

“Neither do you, Judy. Lia said this is dangerous—”

“What about your sister? Think of Yuna—”

“Do not talk about Yuna like that. We’ve looked out for each other ever since she could walk. I would never do anything to put her in danger.”

“We know, Judy, but what if this is putting her in danger and you just don’t know it yet?”

“Stop it, both of you! I love you both, but I don’t have patience for this, from either of you. I’ll be glad to hear whatever Lia has to say if she actually tells me why I should be so concerned.”

Judy and Lucy were apparently left alone as Judy stormed off upstairs, and you peeked around the corner to see if the coast was clear. You could’ve easily ducked in and looked like you hadn’t been eavesdropping, but you shied away as you saw Jisung hopping down the stairs, still toweling his hair off from a shower. You must’ve been watching Chan at the lake longer than you’d thought if he had time to finish his work and get cleaned up.

“Joanne? Lucy?” Jisung asked curiously as he reached the foyer. The girls turned to face him. You could see them attempt to relax from down the corridor. “Are you two alright? Judy looked… pissed.”

“It’s fine, she’s fine,” Lucy sighed with a nod, her arms folded as if to give herself a reassuring hug.

“We’re fine,” Joanne insisted. “I appreciate you checking on us though.”

“No, come on,” Jisung tutted, “don’t lie. Come talk to me.” He nudged Joanne’s shoulder with his own as he walked with the two girls down the hall towards you. You quickly tensed up and rushed to make it look as if you just happened to already be in the kitchen and weren’t actually listening in. The three appeared glad to see you, and you forced yourself to let your mind relax and enjoy this. You sat in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and catching Jisung up on old stories between you and Lia, even as she herself came down herself to join you with Yuna in tow. It was wonderful, getting to take a moment and enjoy the company of these people you cared for. You just wished it didn’t feel like a blessing.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : 🌑 ⭒ 🌓 ⭒ 🌕 : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Jisung was still a mess, only a little less on edge about it. Regularly now, he was dragging you into the nearest secluded area once or sometimes even twice a night to feverishly kiss you or — when it was really bad — fuck you until you both were gasping for air. Last night it was after Chan walked in on you both reading on the couch in the study when he was looking for a book, and now you had the shadow of a sizable love bite next to the scar of your real bite to show for it. Jisung said Chan had given you a look, but you didn’t recall ever seeing such a thing. Tonight, where he had pulled you into the den and told you yet again that he needed you, was because of something he hadn’t explained yet.

It was almost as if Jisung was burying something in you, almost staking his claim if you insisted you were his. Admittedly, it was relieving and good, or else you hopefully wouldn’t let Jisung keep getting away with doing this instead of talking to you. The way Jisung loved you was like nothing you ever got to experience before, and keeping it and maintaining it was sort of becoming precious to you, even though you still weren’t sure if you entirely felt the same. It wasn’t that you felt you didn’t love Jisung — it’s just that you were simply and utterly terrified of that possibility. You already pulled him in this far. Regardless, you occasionally tried to cajole Jisung into opening up more.

Even now, you slowed your hips as you rode him on one of Lia’s plush easy chairs. “Jay, we can’t keep not talking about this,” you lightly chided, partly from trying not to tire out too quickly, partly from wanting to remain gentle with him.

“What’s to talk about?” He breathlessly asked, now thrusting against his grip on your hips to make up for your dropped pace. “I’m still jealous, he’s still here, and that’s still making it difficult to work it out.”

“Jisung,” you said, more firmly now, and his glazed eyes sparkled a bit when he looked up into yours as you stilled on his lap. “Come on. You came in from outside and were so fired up that you’re still covered in grime.”

It was true. Jisung was in such a hurry that there were now smudges of oily fingerprints on your thighs from the car. You would have to come back and surreptitiously clean the leather upholstery of the easy chair.

“Oh my god, fine,” Jisung groaned. “I’m warning you: it’s stupid.”

“Jay.”

“Alright, alright, jeez,” he laughed tepidly under his breath in a vain attempt to keep things light. Even still, the facade dropped right away as Jisung’s eyes were quickly downcast in embarrassment. “The idiot snuck up on me in the garage.”

“He what?” Your blood boiled. Jisung’s eyes lit up in alarm.

“No! Not like that. He didn’t really sneak up on me—I mean, he did, but he didn’t do it on purpose, and—”

“Oh my god—” a deeper voice gasped into a laugh in the doorway. You both froze now with Jisung’s fingers digging into your waist. Mortified, you peeked over the back of the chair to see Felix let out a surprised guffaw and turn to someone beside him, out of view behind the doorway. It was interesting to hear him be so light, considering you’d barely spoken five words to each other since he arrived. “Okay, so that’s out of the question—” You couldn’t hear much else as Felix and whoever it was promptly scampered back down the hallway.

Jisung let out an amused sigh once you were alone again. “Well, that sucked.”

“Jisung,” you prodded, your patience starting to run thin as you got him back on track. He looked somewhat hurt that you didn’t forget in those 10 seconds.

“I’m getting there,” he whined. “The mutt asked me to help him check out the cylinders in the van.”

“And?”

Jisung chewed on his lip. He looked almost nervous. “And… it was nice. He was nice. I sort of understood the appeal for two seconds. We had a beer, looked at the van… and he suddenly asked how you’re doing, and I made an awful excuse to get away. I couldn’t handle it all of a sudden.”

“Jay,” you sighed, maybe a touch too condescendingly, “is that everything? That almost sounds like a good time.” The excruciating embarrassment in Jisung’s eyes made you soften up a bit. He was clearly struggling with this. Maybe, you mused, he couldn’t get a grip on his instincts. Maybe he was getting a sense of his own monster for once.

You smoothed your fingers back through his hair and kissed his temple as you resumed riding him again. It felt selfish to admit that it was gorgeous, the way Jisung was so attentive that even these desperate rendezvous never left you longing for your own climax, that he was so good to you that always got yours, and it was that sense of commitment that made you so beholden to him. Even now, as your core squeezed and climbed its peak, you were still just as lost in the moment as ever.

“I loved you last night and I love you tonight,” Jisung murmured into your shoulder, his breath hitching beautifully and his eyebrows knitting together as he tried to feel out the climax he needed so badly.

“I was all yours last night and I’m all yours tonight,” you soothed. Jisung groaned and tensed at your reassurance, a phrase he seemed to lean on and lean into with each utterance, and soon he held you down against him as you came to a languid yet satisfying finish, your orgasm almost lazy and deep but still flooding heavily through your senses until Jisung followed right behind.

As you caught your breath, Jisung actually looked more relaxed. This was not as satisfying as you would have liked. Jisung needed to keep trying to push past his neuroticisms, no matter how valid. He leaned softly into your hand as you stroked his hair and brushed your thumb against his cheek.

“Hey,” you murmured softly to him. “If you think he was being decent, let him be decent. That’s the least we can do, right? Be decent while we’re stuck together?”

“I know,” he sighed. “He even offered to show me how to handle the gun I found—”

“Jisung,” you jokingly scolded him, “don’t you dare consider that for even a second.”

“I know, I know, I know,” he placated, but his smile seemed to relax.

“Do you feel a bit better now?”

Jisung’s mind had seemed to wander for a moment, but he nonetheless looked up at you gratefully when he nodded.

When you awoke the next night, the first thing you did was check for Jisung in the garage. He wasn’t there. Thankfully, your stomach was feeling cooperative this evening, so you had been able to simply shrug on a jacket over your nightgown after you freshened up. Your fingers absently glided over the scar Rand had left you. It was a minor miracle to not have to deal with nightmares anymore, or else you suspected the pack leader would’ve been populating them. However, that still didn’t stop passing thoughts from invading. It was becoming routine — think about it, wish Jisung didn’t baby you about it with his well-intentioned caress of it each time he got you undressed, and funnel that into your need to destroy Rand if you ever saw him again. You didn’t need a gold star for dealing with it so well, you needed someone to help you sort out that monster. Right now, however, you needed to go find Jisung and see if he wanted to hang out.

But, as you realized, he wasn’t in the garage. The radio was off, the tools he’d been using were stored away. You considered checking the study before you recalled Jisung saying he found a nice clearing in the woods to read in during the day when the weather was dry. The lanterns mostly lit the way, but the path ran out before you could recount Jisung’s directions as he’d described them to you. A flashlight bobbing in the distance caught your eye, hopefully leading you in the right direction.

Only it wasn’t Jisung.

You were careful to mind the moderate ground cover underfoot, cautious of vines and twigs your boots stepped over, but even then you hissed out a curse as you tripped into some brambles and snagged your exposed calf. A fern appeared to have concealed the pointy brush underneath. You considered cutting your little outing short when you finally were able to make out the conversation taking place. You untangled yourself and crept closer.

“— I can’t believe you’re still going on about this. Tell me why it’s any of your goddamn business!”

“It’s my business because we’re here together, Felix,” Chan sighed. “If you get in trouble then I’ll get in trouble.”

“It’s always fucking trouble with you, isn’t it—”

“Don’t fucking start, Felix. I’m glad Judy is nice, I’m glad you’re in love with her, but this is not good for either of you.”

“Why isn’t it? You still won’t tell me! Whatever you read in that fucking journal was good enough to warn me about but not actually tell me anything.”

“I’m just trying to protect you—”

“There’s nothing to protect me from if you won’t tell me what it is! You don’t understand, Chan. I’ve never felt this way before in my life. I don’t just love her, I belong with her. I’m meant to be with her. I can feel it in my—”

“Skin, right?” Chan stared Felix down, who had stopped his frenzied pacing. “You can feel it in your skin, can’t you. It feels almost like you’ve been in the sun too long and sometimes all you can smell is her, even if she’s not around.”

“If you get it then tell me what I need to be so goddamned scared about.”

Chan was markedly silent. In the meager moonlight and his flashlight bouncing off the trees, you could see Chan shift his weight from foot to foot, his hands going from his hips to folded across his chest. You were so engrossed in their squabble you could almost ignore the trickle of blood falling down into your boot from where the damned brambles had gotten you.

“That’s what I thought,” Felix scoffed. You ducked back, mindful of the underbrush while turning to watch Felix storm past you and back up to the house. As you turned back to find Chan, though, there was no flashlight beam. There was only darkness.

You paused in the disquieting night and stared at the spot Chan was just occupying before your eyes quickly surveyed the rest of the clearing, trying hard to not panic and figure out what must have happened in the time between you watching and listening to the younger wolf leave and losing sight of Chan. He wasn’t gone; his scent was still here, his bouquet of mahogany and beach fire haunting you in real time. His scent in the cool night air distracted you from the prickling sting on your leg. Thinking cautiously, you turned to press your back against the tree you had been hiding behind and eliminate a blind spot.

Only to be faced with Chan. It was surreal, almost occurring as if time was slowing down just for him, just so he could stand himself before you and confront you. This was the closest you’d been to him since you tore him open in the boiler room. Standing together like this, your chest squeezed as you suddenly remembered that first night, both of you breathless and excited as Chan kissed you behind the bar.

“Your heart’s beating out of control,” Chan observed, his hushed voice joining the gentle breeze in the exposing night air. His tone was gentle, husky, but difficult to figure out. He wasn’t happy to see you, that much was sure. And he was right. You’d backed up, apparently trying so hard to pass through the tree behind you that you could feel the bark press into your shoulders through your jacket. Sure enough, you could feel your heart beating like mad and rattling your breath.

“Are you scared?”

You defiantly kept your mouth shut. The last thing you wanted to do was give away more than you already had. Instead, you tried to edge past Chan, until he effortlessly pushed the head of his flashlight into your sternum — hardly pinning you to the tree, but you were stuck nonetheless. Even in the dark, you could see his eyes. For the first time with Chan, you felt like prey. You thought of Jisung — his kind eyes, his golden skin soft as deer velvet. All you wanted in that moment was to cling to him and feel safe again. Then again, with Chan being here, by just existing in your space — you felt that incredible gravitation towards him that drove you into Jisung’s path in the first place. Somewhere in you, that small voice emanated an anxious hum.

“You have no reason to be scared right now,” Chan reassured you with stinging saccharine in his continued murmur, “considering how things went between us last time.” You were frozen by the sensation of his hand on yours and you wished so desperately that you could pull away when his fingers wrapped around your wrist, but you were frozen in place— by fear, by desire, by something. The cold head of the flashlight left your chest as Chan reached up and pulled open the first few buttons of his flannel shirt. Wisps of moonlight streaked across Chan’s pale chest as he gently tugged up on your hand and led you to touch him. His calloused fingertips were soft on your palm as he made you reach out and press your hand to his chest. Your breath had stilled in your tight lungs. Just under his cold skin in the night air he was radiating warmth. A coarse breath became lodged in your throat as your fingertips brushed the gnarled skin comprising the scar you’d left him.

“See? We match now.”

“Why are you doing this?” You were whispering to each other like that night under the table in the library and the only thing you wanted in the world was to will your feet to move and leave. Chan’s thumb almost affectionately brushed over your hand.

“I’m just reassuring you that you have no reason to be afraid right now,” he replied. “You’re apparently perfectly capable of killing me. I don’t think I would’ve made it if you weren’t so courteous to leave me for Felix to find.”

“Believe me, I wasn’t trying,” you retorted. “And I’m not afraid of you.”

“Good. I’m grateful nonetheless,” Chan shrugged as he let you wrench your hand away. “Besides, the only reason you would have to be afraid right now would be if you knew how amazing you smell. You really should be more mindful of your surroundings; you never know what’s hiding. I watched you from the trees for three days back at your aunt’s house without you knowing. It was just a scratch this time, sure, but who knows about next time. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Chan,” you said as you attempted to stand your ground. “Just let me go back to the house.”

“If you’re lurking in the woods looking for secrets, I’m letting you in on one now,” Chan murmured, letting himself fall closer into you so he could breathe you in. It felt so incredible but so unnerving to have him this close. “You don’t know how lucky you are. You were alone with the wolf just a few weeks ago and still came out on top.”

“You’re not implying that you would’ve—”

“Eaten you? Why not? The wolf sure as hell wanted to— which is sick, considering how much it likes you. Just staring at you bleeding under me almost like you are right now, with that moon haunting me outside the motel… every little nag of the wolf telling me how easy it would’ve been to tear into you while I still had to reconcile with Rand trying to claim you, praying none of his blood got in that bite to accidentally complete the claim.”

Chan’s wolf sounded too much like the little whisper in the back of your mind for your comfort. In fact, you were never aware that the wolf was apparently its own mind. You knew the actual wolf form was extremely painful to assume and was really only used in dire situations. It was reasonably handled with medication or meditation, but to think that the wolf still made its own decisions and the human was just a passenger along for the ride… you didn’t like it.

Then again, Chan was the only wolf you knew intimately. Who knew what else would be news to you. Your fingertips pressed hard into the rough wood of the tree trunk to try and keep from trembling. Chan looked breathtaking like this, his eyes darkening as the predator tried to take hold inside him. “Why not give in, then, if it’s so easy,” you challenged him.

“Because you gave in first,” he softly replied, the lilt in his dark tone hypnotic. “You gave into your hunger before I could give in to mine. You were lucky to make it out at the last full moon. I’d be more careful of the one coming up. You don’t deserve your luck running out.”

You felt sick. Despite the ravenous way his eyes bore into you, his warning sounded genuine, and as Chan clearly struggled with every demon on his back, including his wolf, you grappled with yours. You thought of Jisung, sleeping peacefully beside you as he couldn’t stay awake anymore at the end of his night. You thought of Chan, and the way he tried so hard to keep Rand away from you that night in the store, the way he’d truly seemed afraid of you when you gave into your own monster.

As you noticed Chan heavily considering his proximity to you, his weighted hesitance and his own bated breath exposing him apparently caught between pulling you close and running away, you finally saw it: Chan hated this. The way he nervously licked his lips, the worry knotted up in his brow, his jaw set stern — he loathed how good you smelled. Even as he leaned in to your timid trepidation, his lips tempting closer to yours, you could feel a desperate restraint in him. You held your breath as you felt his own on your skin. Nervous excitement played with your heartbeat and you let your eyes close.

Chan paused, one moment away. “Please stop me.”

Your eyes snapped open at his quiet plea. You could do that. For both of you.

Chan grunted and cursed when you pressed both your hands to his chest and shoved him off, but he let you run. You ran all the way back to the house, until you saw the light actually on in the garage.

Jisung barely had a moment to smile hello as you threw yourself into his arms, let alone have any time to figure out what was going on with you when you feverishly kissed him. He tried to caress and pet you down off of him. “Hey, hey, baby…” Jisung soothed. He wiped his grease-stained hands on his jeans before he worriedly cupped your face to get a look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“I really need you right now,” you breathlessly pleaded, and you kissed him again where you stood by the open passenger side door. Jisung nodded gravely in your embrace, knowing damn well what that felt like. His fingers caressed your hair, down to your shoulders as he turned and pressed you against the car, ultimately reaching down to tilt the front seat forward so he could gently herd you inside to lay across the backseat.

“How much—”

“Everything, Jay,” you desperately whined, “I need you so much right now.”

The torrid firefight of conflicting emotions taking place inside you was overwhelming to say the least, as Jisung nodded dutifully. He was ready for you in minutes and was already pulling at the hem of your nightgown under your jacket, his mindful fingertips lighting you up instantly. If you could be there for him at the drop of a hat, so could he, and you were grateful once he prodded up against you between your legs. When had you gotten so wet? You barely had time to wonder past your gasp as Jisung gently stretched you open around him. As your mind was awash, you grounded yourself, coming home to his scent of deer and buttercups. His impassioned groans in your ear brought you back to earth, back to this moment between only you and him. However, even then you couldn’t shake this feeling that you weren’t alone as Jisung fucked the worry out of you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was Chan. Either mentally or literally outside the garage, Chan was there and invading your moment.

Apparently Jisung noticed you elsewhere underneath him. “Hey,” he softly called to you, wanting to bring you back, “I loved you last night and I love you tonight.”

“Jisung,” you gasped and whined, “I love you, too.”

Jisung slowed to a halt, hips stilled between your legs as you realized what you just said. His eyes bore deep into you, wondering if he heard you right. And when you thought about it, you knew he heard right. You loved Jisung.

Something about sharing that moment in the backseat of Jisung’s car seemed to make time slow and pull you two into sync with each other. The second he finally moved, he really was making love to you. Jisung kissed your face as he moved together with you, and that closeness felt thick, an invisible tether making you clutch tightly onto him.

“Say it again,” Jisung breathed against you, and you could hear the precipice approaching from the stilted confidence in his voice.

“I love you, Jisung—” you whimpered, his hushed intensity only adding to the peak he was pushing you towards, right up to when you toppled over the edge. Your legs squeezed around Jisung’s hips, your breathy cries reverberating in the quiet car in the silent garage as you came, and he wasn’t far behind. Jisung’s hips faltered against yours as he rolled into you once, twice more, and climaxed with an emphatic sigh, his voice husky and thick from working you over.

You reached for him immediately, finding his lips in the dark as he did with you that first time in the bookstore, and glided your fingers back through his hair as he looked into your eyes; the dark brown rimming his enlarged pupils seemed to have a sparkle within them, like a set of stars only you had the privilege of knowing. His chest pushed into yours as you both caught your breath. You could feel the buttons of his jacket through the thin material of your nightgown.

“I love you, too,” Jisung quietly panted, as if the walls outside would crumble if he proclaimed it too loudly. “I loved you last night, I love you tonight — and I’m going to love you tomorrow.”

The world felt cozier when you awoke the next night. After your tryst in Jisung’s car, you had spent the rest of the evening together, the most time you’d spent alone and relaxing so far. You dragged Jisung into a hot bath with you, where he found the already healed scratches from the bramble bush. He did ask what happened. You simply told him Chan had snuck up on you in the woods by accident and frightened you, and as much as you told him not to, Jisung was still hard-pressed to go talk to him. You could only relax once you calmed him down enough and pushed him into bed.

Everything was fine, really. With Chan set on his path and you set on yours, you would hopefully never have to see him again after Rand and the journals were dealt with. You would never have to tell Jisung that the way Chan looked at you made you breathless, that being so close to him made you want to run, but it also equally made you want to grab onto him and never let go.

After Jisung had finally drifted off to sleep that night, however, that familiar churn in your stomach returned, this time after suddenly being hit with the memory of Rand’s teeth in you. You couldn’t stay in the room and use your private bathroom, surely — you still hadn’t told Jisung about the puzzling occasional sickness. Instead, you slipped out from under his arm to throw on a robe and trot downstairs, just in time to use a bathroom down there until your stomach was satisfied. Admittedly, that soreness in your gut only exacerbated the hunger slowly forming over the past few days.

You jumped as you returned upstairs, the first hints of daybreak starting to show outside and revealing Felix quietly slipping out of Judy’s bedroom. He froze as he caught you watching him at the top of the stairs. The hall had been silent as you regarded each other.

“Hi,” Felix whispered awkwardly in greeting. He didn’t seem sure of how best to approach you.

“Hello.” You had to admit you felt the same if that were the case.

The younger wolf was bundled up in a cozy sweater, but when you neared to get closer to your room, you still noticed the telltale scars on Felix’s neck. Aside from freshly drawn blood and veal, he smelled sweetly of peaches, even daisies. His faint spray of freckles dotting his golden cheeks and dainty nose were incredibly becoming on him now that you could really take a second and see him up close. He had looked wary, ready to bolt. You remembered what Chan had said, about his family throwing him out after he turned, and your chest swelled. Whatever this was he was going through, it was clearly making him the happiest he’d been in a long time.

“Are you being safe?” This felt like a neutral enough question, you’d hoped. Felix seemed to think so, a muted sigh falling from his chest once he had flashed a relieved smile and nodded.

“Yeah. I was just hanging out because Judy says it helps her feel more safe.”

“Does she not usually?”

“Not lately,” Felix shrugged. “She said she’s been hearing noises in the garden and out in the trees, but I’ve tried looking, both during the day and night. Nothing out there, but if she feels better with me staying with her while she falls asleep, I can do that.”

“I’m sure she appreciates the gesture. That’s really thoughtful of you.” You weren’t even being facetious or playing nice; it was true. Whatever Felix seemed to feel for Judy, it was more than just lust. He’d given you a soft grin before he seemed to remember something. He rummaged through his pockets before he reached out, and offered you whatever it was he had found. Felix had placed a photo in your hand, and you tended back up. Beaming back at you was a remarkably cleaner Chan, in his uniform with his natural hair color and without the heavy circles presently rimming his dark eyes. That pang in your chest echoed deep.

“I found it while helping Chan with his records,” Felix had explained. “It was in the bottom of his rucksack, in what he affectionately calls his Dead Box. Looked like his whole past life was in there. No known parents, no known siblings, just a juvenile record, a half empty pack of cigarettes, and this academy picture. He said the box is the first thing to go if things get bad. Thought you’d be curious to see.”

Your eyes pored over this exponentially happier Chan. He still had that shadow hanging over his smile, like there was still a lot behind him, but he seemed almost unaware that this much trouble was out in the world. “Felix,” you carefully wondered, “what’s he like with you?”

Felix’s look had been puzzling, like he had to remember you may have differing opinions or him. He decided on a simple shrug. “He’s the truest guy I’ve met. No lies, no secrets… except for now and the whole business with Judy. That’s why it hurts so much. But he saved me, and I’m thankful for him. He’s like a brother to me. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. But I have to know... that night that you and he… did you mean to?”

A weighted silence staked down between you both.

“What did he say?”

“He says you didn’t.”

“I’m glad,” you decided, “because I didn’t. Goodnight, Felix. Thank you.”

You had handed Felix back the photo. Holding onto it made your gut twist again for some reason.

Tonight, however, after you woke up to an empty bed, you knew the coziness wouldn’t last. You had to find Jisung and make sure he wasn’t caught up in another bout of wanting to do the right thing. You pulled on some jeans and a sweater before stepping into your boots and making your way downstairs, first hoping to catch Jisung in the kitchen. Instead, you were faced with an impromptu meeting of sorts. Felix sat on one end of the kitchen table, Judy sat at the other, and Joanne and Lucy were sitting between them. Yuna was mysteriously missing from this conversation. You had to wonder how her sister’s lovestruck rebellion was affecting the youngest. It seemed loneliness may have become a disease in the large house, jumping from person to person as these relationships were forming and changing. The girls instantly clammed up when you entered the room, but Felix gave you a reassuring smile. You quickly apologized and made your way out the back door.

The garage was dark again when you checked it. That wasn’t a great sign, but you weren’t going to let yourself become nervous yet. Instead, you headed out on the trail between the lanterns, being extra careful of the brambles and anything hiding at the fringes of the trail. Until you heard a gunshot.

You could only hear the breeze rushing past your ears and your own panicked breathing as you tore through the woods, even though you knew plain and simply that Lia’s property bordered private as well as public property. A hunter could simply be out too late, or a homeowner could be dealing with pesky vermin, but the only thing you knew in this moment was that Jisung was nowhere to be found yet and you had heard a gunshot. You only slowed once you reached the edge of the clearing Jisung must’ve meant in the first place, but it was more like you skidded to a halt.

Jisung was further down the tree line, aiming towards a target staked about 50 meters away… with Chan behind him. The two men paused for a moment to scan their surroundings as they heard the rustle of your feet in the brush, and you dropped down below a fern, breathing slow and steady through your pursed lips to calm your heart. What in the hell was Jisung doing out here? How could he go against your simple wish? There was no way Chan didn’t put him up to this, convince him that it would be better to be safe than sorry or some bullshit like that.

You bristled as the two of them seemed to be getting along just fine. Chan corrected Jisung’s form and posture a little, guiding him to make sure his arm was stable but not stiff when he aimed. He fired again, and you could see the paper target tear as it was hit. You seethed. You were set on your path. Chan was set on his. You had suggested decency, but this was way too much. The boys shared a high five and celebrated by cracking open a beer, and you couldn’t take anymore. You turned and marched right back to the house.

However, you were now too full of energy and had nowhere to take it. You considered waiting up for Jisung, but you knew that would only rile you up even more. It was as you were ascending the stairs that you noticed a light on in the study. You peered inside, and were grateful to find Lia, bundled up in her usual cozy layers, all cotton and wool. Perpetually freezing, as Lia appeared to be, you’d never seen her dressed down in less than a long-sleeved shirt. She seemed grateful to see you, too. You walked inside, and she gladly pulled up her feet where they’d been stretched across the couch.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Lia asked as she set her book down. She looked so tired.

“How do you always know when I’m not?” You laughed solemnly.

“I just know these things. Is it about Jisung? I like him with you, you know.”

“Right again. I guess I sometimes hate when things become certain.”

“Because that’s when things can become disappointing. You can't truly be upset unless you know where you stand.”

You smirked, your mind almost too foggy to really humor her. “How do you do that?”

“I just know how you are, sweetheart.”

“I mean, I know it’s…” You folded your arms, trying to consider what it really was that was bothering you, or even what all you could tell Lia in this moment. “It hurts when you know what’s best for someone, and they think they know more.”

“I know what you mean,” Lia laughed out loud. You could almost feel how worn down both of you were. “It reminds me of a story.”

“Oh?” You did always love Lia’s stories. When she got into it, you could just rest beside her and listen to her talk for hours.

“Sure does,” she nodded, and she was already ready for you to nestle in closer to her on the couch as you watched the fire roar in the study. “It’s an easy one, since that’s all I have the energy for. But once, ages ago, I was madly in love with a young man—”

“You?” You giggled. Lia pushed at your shoulder.

“Indeed, me,” she lightheartedly rolled her eyes. “This was back when I was with Shepherd. He told me I had to be careful, over and over again, but I was in love and I knew how to take care of myself. I thought he was just being selfish, maybe overprotective.”

You sat up. This was the first Lia had ever mentioned his name to you. The revelation wasn’t lost on her either, as her quick inhale and sigh seemed to be giving her the energy to continue.

“Everything was glorious, it was perfect… until I woke up with a fever one night.”

“Lia…” You were chilled. As far as you knew, your immune system was impenetrable once you turned. It was one of the bigger benefits of the lifestyle, truth be told.

“I kept my secret for a whole week. I couldn’t tell my beau, I thought he might have given me whatever it was. I had to admit that I didn’t know everything. I had to talk to Shepherd. At the end of it all, he was the only one telling me he knew what was best, and he could be right.”

“And? What did he say?”

“Shepherd sat me down in the back of the bookstore, and he held my hand and shook his head. He never treated me like that before. He told me, ‘You silly young thing. If you’d told me sooner, you would know by now that there’s two things you can’t do anymore: you can’t get sick by any human means, and you can’t bear a child—’”

“We can’t?”

Lia looked at you suddenly. You figured that must’ve been similar to Shepherd’s look, the look she was giving you now. “No, sweetheart,” she shook her head. “We can’t. Only purebreds can. Anything else will shrivel up and die in us, if it even has a chance to get that far.”

“Then what was making you sick?” You pushed before you could stop yourself. Lia grinned as you forced yourself to relax into the couch.

“First, Shepherd deduced that my beau was a Non-Viable Donor. This was before databases were a thing. Then — and this was the first time I hated him — he decided that I was only exacerbating it by knowing I was defying him.”

“What the hell—?”

“The weird thing was,” Lia continued, “that I couldn’t shake the feeling he was right, at least partly. Every time Shepherd told me to believe him, a small part of me wanted to. I was actively defying him, and you know your mind is more powerful than you like to admit.”

What Lia was referring to was still embarrassing to recall. When she had found you, you were running yourself ragged from dusk till dawn, stressing yourself sick over this new life you didn’t know how to navigate yet. So, sure, she may have had a point, but there was still something nagging at you.

“What if…” You carefully mulled over. “What if you didn’t feel like you were doing anything wrong by anyone?”

Lia took a second to meditate on this. “Then I would consider if I’m doing wrong by myself.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : 🌓 ⭒ 🌕 ⭒ 🌗 : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You had sat up in bed that night after talking with Lia, half reading a book and half listening to Jisung when he casually told you that he was out working in the garage longer than he expected. First, you had been considering if you really were doing any wrong by yourself. Then, with Jisung’s casual lie, you wondered if maybe he was doing anything wrong. It felt like, perhaps, the right thing to do was hold back, to not jump the gun, to be more careful about all this than you had been. It did feel like you were looking at this with refreshed eyes.

Then again, maybe there was a new hair trigger presenting itself now that you knew Jisung and Chan were apparently hanging out and didn’t find it pertinent to tell you. You had found Jisung out in his makeshift firing range the next two nights, but even that didn’t steam you. Inside you, you knew there was nothing objectively wrong with the two men being on good terms, or even becoming friends. It was when Jisung walked out from the shower to find you reading in bed again, however, and he said something that made your hair stand on end. That changed things.

“You know,” he laughed as he toweled off his hair, “I’m starting to think I had Chan pegged wrong. Like I know I said I was beginning to see the appeal, but I actually get it now. He’s a nice guy and— hey, are you alright?”

You straightened up, having apparently silently outed yourself again before you nodded into your book.

“Oh, come on now,” Jisung grinned, “no secrets, remember?” There it was. Jisung was thoroughly perplexed as you snapped your book shut, got out of bed, and threw on a jacket over your long-sleeved shirt. “Baby? Where are you going?”

“I think I left something outside,” you grumbled. Jisung didn’t follow you out.

Instead, you marched out by yourself to his little improvised hideout. Chan was there, relaxing in the moonlight, the silver light growing fuller with each passing night, and he was pensively reclining in one of the lawn chairs he and Jisung had apparently dragged out there. He barely looked at you, but his cocked eyebrow hinted that he was aware of your presence.

“Yes?” He was fiddling with Shepherd’s gun before he set it down beside his chair.

“We need to talk.”

“We do?” Chan reclined his head back, preemptively washing his hands of this situation.

“We need to talk about why you two are keeping secrets from me.”

Chan did look at you now. “Who’s keeping secrets? You and I don’t talk.”

“Then Jisung, you asshole.”

He raised his hands defensively. “I told Jisung he shouldn’t be keeping things from you. He said it’ll be easier if you don’t know.”

“What’s not to know?! I told him to never touch that goddamn gun again, and you’re laughing and whooping it up like pals and you’re showing him how to use the fucking thing!”

“Look,” Chan shot back impatiently. He rose to his feet. Something about the lines of his face seemed more severe, but you thought perhaps it was the moonlight playing tricks on you. “Jisung came to me and asked if I snuck up on you in the woods. I told him it was an accident, just like you weren’t meaning to spy on me. Jisung apologized for coming in hot — because he did — and said he just wanted to protect you. He told me the least we could do if we’re stuck like this is be decent to each other, and I liked that, but he lamented the whole thing about not even being able to use the gun if it ever came to that, so I figured I could provide that for him, but only if he told you. He told me he told you. I’m sorry if he lied. He just wants to protect you, just like I do.”

You were so tense you felt like your knuckles would tear through your skin. Instead, you leaned forward, scooping Shepherd’s gun off the ground and checked the chamber. Chan backed up a few steps, hands up again before you aimed for the paper target, still stood up in the clearing and fired straight at it. You were out of practice, having only bought and trained with a gun for a short period after that wolf mugged you back in college. Nonetheless, the target rocked as you hit close enough to the center to make a point. Your grimace felt pronounced while you opened the chamber again and emptied the rounds into your hand. Chan was silent as you tossed the gun at his feet and stormed off.

With that settled, you were on a warpath the next night. You had no patience to get properly dressed again, this and your steadily growing hunger making you feel a bit on edge. You yanked on a jacket over your nightgown and huffed downstairs before you found Jisung working in the garage on — of all things — the van Chan and Felix had lifted. He was apparently taking a break, sitting on the workbench and peering through the manual when you stepped right up to him. Jisung seemed to have sensed your anger as he quickly set the manual down, and flinched as you tossed the bullets in his lap.

“Baby,” he flustered, “I can explain—”

“No excuses, Jay.”

Jisung sighed hard as he stared at the ammo in his lap. “No excuses,” he repeated. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You’re quite the hypocrite,” you sneered, fighting through your hurt. “If you’re buddies now what’re you doing playing with silver bullets?”

“Hey,” Jisung defensively bit back. “I told him I wanted to be careful—”

“Careful?” You laughed meanly.

“Yes,” he groaned harshly, “I wanted to be careful. I showed it to him, and it was still half full, just the way I found it by Shepherd: full of wood-tipped rounds. Chan emptied it and used what he had on hand that would work.”

“This sucks, Jisung,” you sighed, and fought hard to not get too heightened over this. “This sucks, because I love you and I expect us to trust each other.”

“I love you, too! I trust you, too!” Jisung was up on his feet now as well, the ammo pinging onto the concrete floor where it cascaded off his lap. “I just want to be able to protect us and the girls and—”

“Will everyone stop trying to protect me?!” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, but here it was. Jisung folded his arms, momentarily stunned, waiting to see if you got that out of your system.

But you didn’t have a chance. A piercing scream rang out from the top floor of the house.

You and Jisung exchanged a terrified look before he followed after you, bounding out of the garage and into the house to sprint up the stairs. That sight wasn’t any better, the empty hall foreboding as you reached the landing. Your heart crawled into your throat. A door down the hall slammed open.

Judy’s room.

She spilled into the hallway, the girl only recognizable because it just happened to be her room. She was a wreck, streaked in blood, her clothes hanging off her in tatters, her hair a mess — and the monster leaping out of the room and landing on top of her. Felix.

If Judy barely resembled herself, Felix was long gone, the roars and growls coming from deep within him only belonging to the wolf as he tried to get her to sit still long enough to tear into her again. “Felix, please—!” She screeched, her words cut off into a gurgle as he pinned her roughly back down onto the floor. You could see him more clearly now as he sensed onlookers — a whimper behind you let you know the girls had made their way to the landing now — and he was gone. Felix’s eyes had done dark, almost completely black as he breathed hard through his hunger.

Jisung was the first to finally move, barreling forward and tumbling Felix off the poor girl, and you were quick to join, attempting to wrench his clawing hands out of the way so either of you could get a hold on him. Felix seethed and snarled, his lips curled back over his bared teeth that had presented themselves in his hunger, fighting hard to get either of you off of him. If any of the noises he made were words, you couldn’t tell. With the two of you attempting to hold him back, the girls finally rushed forward to Judy’s aid. It took a moment for you to figure out just where the blood all over you came from, before it became readily apparent that it was Judy’s. Felix yanked his arm from Jisung’s grip, about to swipe you both off until a gunshot rang through the hallway.

Lia lowered the gun in her hand, but you could still see a pearl handle matching the gun you’d thrown at Chan the previous night. Felix reeled from the new wound burning in his arm, a shocked cry seeming to rouse him from the wolf’s reign. The hallway seemed to freeze as Lia approached the whimpering boy with cold fury before she simply shoved her finger into the newly pierced hole and dragged him back down the corridor. The dark shadow had drained from Felix’s eyes, who suddenly seemed to be dealing with what the wolf had done in his absence. Lia looked at you, Jisung, and the girls as she pulled him along.

“Get Chaeryoung out of the goddamn hallway,” she huskily ordered. “And someone needs to control the whelp while we wait.”

“Lia, I didn’t—” Felix choked out, already overcome by the realization of what he did. “I didn’t— oh fucking christ, I didn’t mean — what do I—”

“We wait, dear. Just like I said. We’re going to see if there’s any chance to help Chaeryoung while we wait for you to calm down enough to tell us what the hell you did.” Lia silenced him harshly, with a twist of her finger still thrust in his arm. She pushed him into the study as the girls and Jisung helped usher Judy along inside right behind them. You attempted to process everything that just happened in the past few minutes. All you could hear was Lia commanding that someone needs to control the whelp. And all you could think of was Chan.

The rage carried your feet faster than you had originally thought possible, twigs and leaves snapping beneath your boots as you sprinted out to the clearing. You weren’t sure what you would do when you found Chan, but you knew he was the cause of all of this.

What you found, upon reaching the clearing, was the ghost of a flashlight beam leading you out to the field beyond, closer to the edge of the property line. You slowed down to a careful walk as you approached. Chan sat on the grass in the bright moonlight, arms folded on his knees as he considered a deer heaving for breath with its hooves caught in a hunter’s trap. He was dressed comfortably in a flannel and sweats, like he just rolled out of bed, and you hated that like this, if this moment resided in a vacuum, you could find him just as handsome as that first night. But out here, you could only hear the breeze whisper reserved judgements through the foliage as the both of you waited, as silent as the deer.

“Tell me something,” he finally said, still not looking up at you. “Say you’re me. What would you do?”

“I didn’t realize there were choices,” you replied curtly.

“Sure there are,” he nodded. “You could do what’s right for you, or right for the deer.”

“What about you,” you retorted. How silly of you, to assume that both options were one in the same. “What would you do?”

“Honestly?” Chan shivered as he rocked up onto his feet. He placed a calming hand on the deer before he stepped on both latches on either side of the trap and pried it open. The deer got up on shaky legs, but quickly sprinted off. “I sort of really wanted to eat it.”

You scoffed. “Of course you would—”

“Can you fucking blame me?!” Chan snapped at you. You backed up a step. “I’m starving, but can I afford to leave and hunt as I’d like? What’re you even doing out here?!”

It wasn’t lost on you, that Chan was eyeing the blood smeared on you. “Ever the goddamn martyr, aren’t you,” you glowered. “You need to get back to the house,” you said with an attempt to be calm, “Felix—”

“Do not get me started on Felix,” Chan laughed harshly. “Don’t even mention him to me. I don’t care what he does now. I have stuck my neck out for him so many times, I have wasted so much patience on him, I’ve accepted and loved him and helped him—”

“Chan!” You barked. “Will you shut the hell up?! I’m trying to tell you Felix and Judy—”

“Oh, it finally happened, huh?!” Chan reeled, feigning surprise. “What, he just thought he could ignore me and nothing would happen?! I can’t say I fucking blame him, if she smells half as good as she smells on you.”

Chan stepped closer. You stepped back, but only to dig your heels in as you swiped your hand through Judy’s blood on your chest to slap him across the face, if it smelled so goddamned good. However, Chan caught your hand, his grip menacing as you tried to pull free. You wriggled in his hold. “You are such a goddamn monster,” you hissed.

“I asked if you can fucking blame me,” Chan shot back, his voice cold and thick, and you recognized that dark shadow clouding his piercing gaze. He torqued your wrist in his hand with surprising ease, clearly giving in to his temptation to smell the mauled girl’s blood on you before you tried to kick him off. Chan easily tipped you back, yanking you close and falling on top of you in the clearing by the opened trap. “Let’s try that one more time,” he grimly chuckled through a sharp shiver. “Can you blame me?”

“For what, you fucking animal,” you spat. The crazed look in Chan’s eye only seemed to be goaded on.

“For being a fucking animal,” he sneered as he held you down. “I’m alone, I’m starving enough to want to eat a fucking trapped deer, and I’ve been listening to you fuck that dipshit for the past month. Do you know what actual torture that is? If I have to think about that prick’s hands on you one more time I think I’ll actually go mad. Every goddamn time I stumble across him fucking you I want to tear my hair out, that’s why I’m never in the fucking house when you’re awake. And you know what makes it worse? I like Jisung.”

“Don’t you dare say his name right now,” you struggled out as you tried to knee Chan off of you. He seemed blatantly unaffected. You could see the hair on his neck stand up in alert against the light of the full moon.

“Why? Aren’t you happy? You were right,” Chan miserably lamented. “I’m a monster and a stupid animal, enough to get jealous over a rotten bitch who tried to kill me just because she knows what it’s like to eat and not feel satisfied.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you gritted out, even though that was a stone faced lie. You knew exactly what it was like, eating and never feeling satiated until you gave into that nagging feeling so deep in your mind it felt like it sat in your throat.

“Sure you do, don’t lie,” Chan spat, “I bet every time you feed on Jisung you—”

“I said do not talk about Jisung as if you have any right.”

“Why? What’s wrong, princess,” Chan taunted. “Do you feel guilty? Whatever happened to never talking to me? Never interacting with me? You’re not even trying to avoid me now. Whatever Felix did in that house wasn’t more important than whatever bullshit you keep insisting on dredging up. Admit it—”

“Admit what, you fucking mongrel?!

“What I said really bothered you, or else you wouldn’t be hanging around while I’m telling off Felix. You hate that I said you belong to me, but you keep fucking wondering why it doesn’t feel wrong.”

You thrashed uselessly underneath Chan, but he didn’t look like he was enjoying this.

“You have this little voice in the back of your head that dictates your whole life now, and it’s not questioning why you’re mine, it’s just mad about it,” Chan insisted. The surety with which he said it rocked into your chest and made your heart slow. “I know, because I have it, too, and it’s not the goddamn wolf. I’m just as lost—”

“I hate you!” You cried out, your voice hoarse, and you finally got him to shut up. “I hate you, you son of a bitch, Chan. I fucking hate you. Pretend you’re me, alright? Let’s play your game, so pretend you’re me. And you meet someone who makes you excited to be alive for the first time since you died, which is entirely rare, but he drags you down an entire rabbit hole just because he asks you to trust him and doesn’t even have the decency to kill you when he’s done with you.”

Chan was frozen above you, shocked into silence from the enraged tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as you beat your fists against his chest.

“And pretend you convince yourself that this person is actually great, he’s noble and saved you, and you just want to find and know this person because you’re a goddamn idiot and a slave to that voice in your head that decided now was a good time to show up and affect everything you do. And even when you find someone else in that process, someone who you love and loves you back, you can’t even enjoy it, because you know you’re a rotten bitch who can’t stop thinking about that night you asked me to trust you.”

The tears streaming down your face and into the grass stung in the cold night air, but not nearly as much as catching the heartbreak and devastation in Chan’s eyes as he laid against you in the grass. He stubbornly shook his head. “You don’t get to throw yourself at the feet of this situation,” he scolded. “I searched for you, I tried to protect you, I saved you from Rand, and you still tried to kill me! I’m stupid enough to love you and pine over you and you still tried to kill me—”

“You do not love me,” you snapped. It was gross, noticing how good Chan’s pulse smelled in his wrist. His darkening eyes seemed to glow in the night.

“You don’t get to decide that!” He barked indignantly. “I don’t even want to! I wish I didn’t love you, I wish I didn’t want you, I wish I wasn’t fucking haunted by you when you’re right in front of me—”

“Then get rid of me, Chan!” You cried out, and Chan stared you down again in an attempt to not get distracted by your distress. “Get rid of me,” you repeated, trying to push him to do anything, and you finally willed yourself to move. You slapped him, hard, once across the face, and you could feel your nails scrape against his cheek. “Dig me up from the garden and throw me out to the damn tree line if I’m so much trouble.”

Chan was eerily still as he was shaken by your strike, the last of the color in his eyes was overtaken by darkness. The shine was still there, only outlined in black like tar as his weight felt more definitive against you. “I asked you to stop me last time,” he finally spoke through a full body shiver.

“Fuck you,” you spat as you attempted to wriggle out from under him. “Stop yourself.”

“Come on,” he pleaded, “the wolf actually knows you. Stop me, please.”

“Fuck you and the wolf,” you snapped, and you attempted to smack him again, if only to surprise him into giving you enough space to kick him off. Instead, Chan leaned harder into you, your slap seeming to lure him in instead of push him away. His hand on your cheek pushed back behind your ear to grab into your hair, and you fought off a whimper before you turned towards his arm and reflexively bit into him.

The blood rushing over your tongue was a mistake, first evidenced by your desperate moan from finally being fed, and Chan’s garbled curse that sounded more like a growl. His response was instant, his hand spread on your shoulder to slam you down onto the ground and dig his bared teeth into your shoulder. This was apparently the last push his wolf needed to stop being civil, but the worst part was how incredible it felt, only adding to the constellations swirling around your head with his blood on your tongue. Blood begat blood, and you were of two minds as you snaked your fingers into his hair to yank him off long enough for you to pull him back down and sink your teeth into his throat. Chan’s groan still sounded a bit like him, but his clawing hands were that of the wolf spurred on by the smell of your exposed blood making him starve, and his own exposed blood making him want to break you down until you were no longer a threat. You cried out as Chan pinned you to the ground, his snarling teeth finding unmarked skin on your neck to gnaw into as you tried to rip him off. His growls reverberated through your throat and your dizziness almost made you feel faint. Even as you were able to crane his head to the side and scrape your teeth into his shoulder, you were hyper aware enough in your hunger and adrenaline to recognize that Chan was noticeably hard against you between your legs, his hips even rutting against you under your thin nightgown as you both were giving in to your monsters in an attempt to survive each other.

The thick haze marring your judgement was killing you, making it difficult to tell the difference between what he wanted, what you wanted, and what both your little voices wanted. All you knew was Chan’s hands and teeth on you made you burn, with pleasure and disgust, and the more you fed on him the more you rutted your hips down against him like you were possessed, just like that night in the library or back in the boiler room. And, it seemed, the wolf was keen on such attention, no matter how much Chan tried to shake his head and pull away from your clawing hands. He was always right back on top of you, sinking his teeth into you wherever he could fit around you doing the same.

You couldn’t tell, in the midst of either of your frenzies, exactly how Chan’s bared member ended up thrust up against your heat that was thoroughly betraying you, but you knew neither of you did anything to stop it as he grinded past your scant layers of clothing. In fact, there was even a moment, a brief second of hesitation, and you could see him past the wolf as you could recognize in your haze that he was laying right in your entrance. Your nails dug into Chan’s biceps, the muscles there tensing under your clutches as you gasped and arched your back at the sensation of him falling into you.

If Chan had wanted to eat you, he would’ve done it by now, but it became apparent as he fucked you, with his teeth gripping into your shoulder, that it wasn’t that simple. The wolf wanted you in a similar way Chan wanted you, minus any of the superfluous human feelings attached. Even then, he was in there, despite the beast driving him. Each time his lips dragged across your skin, every time his bruising grip softened into a gentle caress, any time you thought you heard him curse under his breath, it was Chan, and if you could sift out any of those extraneous sensations, the sick waves of ecstasy that were overwhelming you could almost be misconstrued for affection.

Everything was simultaneously rushed and slowed between you, and you weren’t sure precisely when Chan’s opened shirt revealed that you had clawed him back open where you had originally mauled him, but it took for him dripping all over you for you to notice, the dark crimson pooling and sticking to the front of your nightgown hiked up around your hips. Incredibly, this transfusion of sorts was driving you mad, raking you through visceral bliss until you could see a peak on the horizon. By this point, a faint breeze could probably eviscerate you, let alone an orgasm from the wolf currently thrusting roughly against you. Still, you whimpered, you whined, worn down and exhausted from trying to stop wanting this like he was, and you grabbed at his chin, tilting him towards you as that precipice crept closer.

“Chan—” you weakly begged, and he was the one who looked back at you, and not the wolf. The darkness faded for a moment, the whites of his eyes becoming just a bit more opaque as he found you. “I fucking hate you, but at least tell me you want me.” It was a ridiculous request, you knew. You couldn’t tell if it was better or worse to hear it.

He ardently nodded as that darkness crept back over his vision. “I love you, you bitch, we belong to each other,” he grunted in a moment of clarity, “but fucking hell you make me wish I was dead.”

You loathed the fact that his affirmation fired you up in just the way you needed, and Chan groaned in surprise as you pulled him close for a brutal kiss, the wolf seemingly not used to such affections. He lingered until you pulled him back off and sank your teeth into him once more, that burst of blood on your tongue sending you just the stars you needed to be pushed over the edge once and for all. You cried out against him, your fingers tangled in his hair as you held him down against you and savored the way your core constricted and squeezed around him. The pleasure drained you, but it thankfully seemed that this was the goal that the wolf had been searching for all along. Chan’s slim fingers clawed into your hair to crane you back flat on the grass as he pinned you down and thrust hard against your sore hips, your numb thighs still cold in the night air before he hit his peak. His growled sigh seemed thick with satisfaction as you felt his warmth flood you, and his hips slowed their frenetic rock against you.

There was still a breeze on the night air as you slowly fell back into your senses.

But it was a rude awakening, that freezing riptide of realizing the gravity of what you’d just done.

You kicked Chan off of you now that he appeared to be coming back, too, and equally as hungover it seemed. He groaned in the grass before he reached for you. You looked down in horror in the blood streaked down you, and as Chan laid an assumedly comforting hand on your thigh — whether for his sake or yours you weren’t sure — you shoved him back onto the opened animal trap as you scrambled up onto your quivering legs. He barked out a curse as he landed on the teeth of the trap before he tried to get up and follow after you, but you’d already taken off in a frantic hurry back to the house, chased as you were by shame and embarrassment that you could let this happen in the middle of a crisis.

The blood and dirt caking the bottom of your boots made you slip on the cold tile of the house once you rushed inside, and bounded up the stairs, Chan hot on your trail as he suddenly remembered why he was supposedly needed back here.

You stopped short as you stumbled into the study when everyone turned to look at you, a vision in red with your jacket hanging slack off one shoulder. Jisung looked terrified, his wide eyes darting between you and Chan running in behind you, looking no better and equally as haggard. Nonetheless, he caught you as you fell into his arms, his safe scent enveloping you again as he tried to steady you enough to take a look at you.

“Felix—” Chan panted from where he stood in the doorway.

“Chan,” Felix brokenly called back.

Joanne and Lucy held Judy in their arms where she lay on the hearth on the fireplace. The lighter blood swathed across her lips matched the healing wounds on Felix and Jisung and painted quite the picture: everyone frantically working to get Judy the blood she needed — but it looked as though it may be too late still. Lia sat beside Felix on the floor in front of the couch, with Yuna sitting atop it behind them, knees drawn up to her chest and nervously watching in tortured wait.

Chan knelt beside the younger wolf, pressing his forehead sympathetically to Felix’s as Lia got up to her feet now.

“Jisung,” you feebly murmured into his shoulder, “is Judy—”

“We did everything we could so far,” he quietly replied, his gentle voice cracking a bit under the emotional weight. “An emergency room won’t have the resources for her. Lia tried to call a trusted doctor, but they wouldn’t be able to come before tomorrow night.”

“Felix,” Chan lamented, “what did you do?”

“I — fuck — it was so fast, I just…” Felix choked up hard.

“Tell him, dear,” Lia prodded as she walked over to the fireplace. “This shouldn’t be so hard. You already told us. Just tell it again.”

“I… she…” Felix fought for words, swallowing down his rising emotions again so he could say what happened. “We were in bed. She was reading to me. The pages were stuck, and when she finally got them apart, she nicked herself… just the smallest drop of blood, but Chan, I’ve been so hungry, you know — and I just, she must’ve seen how I looked and how I smelled it, and she offered to let me taste if it would help, and—”

“Felix,” Chan gasped, and it still came out like an admonishment.

“I know,” Felix sobbed, weighty tears falling down his face as Chan put an arm around him.

“Now we all know,” Lia interjected coolly from where she stood at the fireplace. She used the poker in her hand to stoke the flames, to keep the room warm for Judy whose breathing was ragged and shallow where she lay with the girls. Lia looked back over her shoulder at you. “And now that we all know, maybe we should all know what is especially concerning about this.”

Jisung and Chan steeled themselves as Lia turned. She stepped once, twice, closer to Felix, giving him time to look up at her before Chan butted in.

“Lia, we don’t have to do it like this—”

“Enough, mutt,” she ordered, before she drove the iron poker into Felix’s chest and shoved until the barbed end pushed through. Everyone jolted at Felix’s stunned yell, even Judy stirring for a moment in concern. Yuna screamed, but stayed put, almost frozen in place. “I asked you both to stay away from my girls for a reason,” Lia scolded. “I afforded too many people in this house the benefit of the doubt, and now the blood that has wrought is on all of our hands.”

Lia took a moment to breathe. You all did, only the crackling fire offering any observations for a minute. Finally, as you all settled in your tension, Lia stooped down to resume her seat next to Felix, almost maternally scooping him into her arms and laying him in her lap as she stroked his hair.

“Where was I?” Lia asked quietly, her eyes tiredly cast down at Felix. His muted sniffles and silent tears cut into your heart. You could swear Judy was sleepily watching him from the fireplace. “Tell them why this is bad, Lia,” Jisung softly prompted. His arms squeezed protectively around you, but his fingers still trembled.

“I suppose we’ll need context,” Lia sighed, settling into this and gathering the energy. “I met Adam Shepherd a lifetime ago. My parents were affluent, and we could afford to travel often. I was young, just started college, on holiday with my parents when I stumbled across his shop one evening. I was charmed by the old man. He always had an anecdote or a recommendation or something to show me. He said I shined so bright he didn’t need the sun, when I asked why he wasn’t open during the day. I adored him. I visited him every day, and when I convinced my parents to return that winter, I visited him every day then, too. It was shortly before I was supposed to leave that he told me. He told me about his life, what it meant, and I was dazzled. He asked if I would stay, and I did.

“He waited three months to turn me, and when he was done we held each other and cried, we were so happy. I loved him as if he were my own grandfather, a kind of relationship I’d never known before since I never met either of my own. But, about a year later, we grew weary bringing in donors. That’s when Shepherd suggested hiring some help. This was Minho, who was the most beautiful boy I’d ever met in my life, up to and including any I had met while under Shepherd’s tutelage. I was infatuated, but I was nervous, and I wasn’t sure why, but I found out a month later when I caught Minho hunting late last night. He was a wolf, and I’d never met one before. I asked him if Shepherd knew, and Minho told me that he had known right away, and hired him anyhow. Sometimes, he told me, he wondered if he hired him because of that.

“It was easy to love Minho after I knew. He told me that when he looked at me, it felt like he was laying in a field on a sunny day, basking in the warmth. He claimed me on a humid summer night. It burned, when his blood touched the wound he opened in me, but it was the happiest I’d ever been.”

Lia slipped open the buttons of her blouse and let it fall open. A light scar of a bite, faded to a blushing pink, sat on her breast over her heart. However, a massive scar also webbed across her stomach, one you’d never been allowed to see before.

“That same summer was also when trouble began,” Lia continued. “What Minho hadn’t told me yet was that he had run away from his pack when he found Shepherd. What Shepherd hadn’t told him was that he knew. Minho ran from the store and up to the house one night and told me that Shepherd was a madman, that he was trying to develop a cure for lycanthropy and it was dangerous at the very least, and that we should run. I couldn’t. I trusted Shepherd, I loved him. I wouldn’t abandon him, even if it was Minho telling me to.

“I regret that choice every day of my life. I should’ve left with him. It was two days later that the pack arrived. They got me right as I was waking up, and when I finally understood what was happening, I was surrounded by wolves in a motel room by the beach. Shepherd arrived, and I begged him to tell me what was happening, and he simply kissed my forehead and told me I had been the best. He was saying goodbye, and I was so terrified. The others brought Minho in, and that’s when Shepherd stabbed me, once, in the belly. I remembered that Minho hadn’t been hunting, he said he was scared of running into the pack, and once he smelled me…”

You watched, broken as Lia’s breath wavered for a moment until she composed herself.

“I don’t remember much, other than Minho cried as he tore me apart, even inside the wolf. I remember that and the moon outside the window. It was the first night of the full moon. I felt empty when they dragged Minho off of me, and they left me for dead. I woke up in a coroner’s office a week later, having had to rest through it without any blood to help me. Shepherd never came looking for me.”

“Why did they leave you?” Felix weakly asked.

“I’m getting there, dear,” Lia assured him, gently patting his arm as she nudged him off her lap and rose to her feet. Felix groaned as he leaned back on Chan for support. Lia turned to face him again before she grabbed onto the iron poker and swiftly yanked it out. The younger wolf let out a hoarse cry as the wound erupted, and Chan cursed before he tried to clap a hand over it. He froze as Lia pressed the tip against his hand. “No one touch him. We’re still waiting.”

“Waiting for what, Lia?” You pleaded, holding tight onto Jisung’s hand where he held you.

“I went to find the pack,” Lia continued regardless of your request. “They were in the woods on the edge of Shepherd’s property line where they were apparently hiding out, and they each took a turn interrogating Minho for more information while they tried to figure out how to prove if he was cured or not. When Shepherd finally came, he said there was only one way to know for sure. He drew out his pistol, and he shot the man I loved. He reeled, but he was fine, and I was hopeful for one cursed moment. I watched him unload the pistol, load it with silver, and shoot him again. The pack was disgusted. They called Shepherd a crazy old man and ran. What they didn’t know was that this was just another trial run for Shepherd. He figured it out eventually.”

Lia caught her breath to finish her story when the girls gasped by the fireplace. Lucy was first, erupting into bitter tears. She gently shook Judy’s shoulders, but all the color she had left had drained. Yuna finally moved, leaping over and grabbing her sister and shaking her harder.

“Chae!” Yuna screamed. “Chae, come on! Chae! This isn’t fair!”

Amidst this, a pained cough caught your attention. Felix doubled over, gasping and clutching his chest as if he were just feeling his wound for the first time. Chan sat up straighter, trying to get a better look at him. When you looked to Lia, your eyes growing wider in realization, her hard gaze silently implored you to watch. This was what you were waiting for. Felix wheezed through his pain, but you noticed a new warmth in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before.

“Alright dear,” Lia sighed at Felix as she went to set the poker down, “let's get you fixed up and then we’ll take care—”

“NO!” Yuna roared.

Everything moved at once.

Lia hardly had a chance to stop her once Yuna lunged forward, snatching the poker from her hand and driving it back into Felix’s chest.

[To be continued.]

#skzwriternet #stayracha #kwritersworldnet #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan #han jisung #bang chan breakdown #actual chipmunk loverboy han jisung 🤧#prowl #I can’t believe it’s here thank you all for helping this happen I love this series so much and love you too 💗#and a GIGANTIC thank you to my beta readers you are incredible and I am endlessly grateful and appreciative of your valuable feedback ❤️

221 notes · View notes

hargrove-mayfields · 3 years ago

Text

Just A Dream Away

Chapter 12/13 read here on ao3!

for @harringrovebigbang

~~~~

They don’t have time to wait for Steve.

Over the radio he’s told very bluntly that Billy is not going to make it if they wait for Steve to find them first, and they have to get him to the hospital immediately.

He understands, but they say they can’t even put him on the radio, and he hears coughing in the background before the radio is turned off, so he has to find his way out of the woods alone, then wait on his front porch, bat clutched tightly in his hands just in case, for Joyce with a car full of kids to pick him up and drive him to the hospital.

The half hour it takes is the longest of his life, so that by the time he’s in the hospital, he’s running on waxed floors, tennis shoes skidding as he pushes forward into the endless labyrinth of white tiles and fluorescent lights.

Billy. The boy he'd held as he died in this very hospital. Now alive and breathing in room 340, just a floor above from where he’d thought he’d lost him forever. His legs can’t carry him there fast enough.

He’s only vaguely aware of the kids running behind him, or of the nurses who shout at them that visiting hours are over, unaware that they have a free pass, a special government sanctioned patient to visit. He thinks he hears Max, just as breathless as he is, shout something vulgar back at one of them.

They pass by room after room, Steve muttering the numbers under his breath as they skip the until they reach the start of the wing Billy’s being kept in, and he sprints so fast the numbers are too blurry to count.

He catches himself with both hands on the door frame of 340, leaving small scuff marks on the floor as he skids to a stop. There isn’t even time to take a breath and prepare himself before he’s rushing into the room.

The small group that he hadn’t left out in the hall is already in the tiny hospital room, Kali and El and Robin standing around the bed, talking to Billy. That’s a good enough sign, but they’re still in Steve’s way, the one last barrier keeping him from reuniting with his love. He has to see him.

“Move.” He hears himself breathe out, and they do, stepping aside each with matching looks of respect and sympathy for all that had got them to this point.

Billy looks up at him, the closed off, traumatized expression behind his eyes melting into one of relief and love that was mirrored perfectly in Steve’s own features. He’s sitting on the side of the bed, feet flat on the floor so he’s facing the door. An oxygen mask not much unlike the one that had kept him, or not really him, alive for so many months strapped to his face and a bandage wrapped tightly around his arm. Tired, deep blue eyes glassy with tears stare straight back at him.

Steve is completely frozen in place, can’t process the fact that he’s standing across from the boy he’d buried a year ago now. The one he never stopped mourning. Never stopped loving.

Billy’s the first of the two to say something, his voice cracking with the effort, with emotion , as a tear slips down his grimy cheek, “C’mere, Stevie.”

Steve practically trips over his own two feet, throwing himself into Billy’s open arms, “Baby, oh my god.”

“I know, Stevie.” Billy comforts, rubbing soothing circles into his back, but it only makes Steve cry harder, nuzzling Billy’s mess of hair and sobbing, “I lost you.”

“No, baby, I was here. I was here the whole time.”

Steve nods, sniffling as he tries to calm his tears, “I’m sorry.” He’s apologizing for everything, from crying to not saving him sooner to not being there in the first place.

“Sorry? Stevie, you saved me.” He thumbs over the bloody scratch on Steve’s cheek, “You could’ve been killed doing that for me with just a baseball bat.”

Insistently, Steve shakes his head, “Don’t make this about me. Look at you , you’re covered in blood.”

“Most of it’s not mine. There’s so many of those fuckers over there. They used to mind their own but something was different. Had to kill tons of ‘em.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Mhm. Doc says I’ll be on oxygen for as long as I breathed that shit in, maybe longer, and this damn bite’s getting infected, but s’nothin they can’t fix.”

“Good. I was so scared.” Steve sighs, relieved, and Billy chuckles, somehow despite everything still like himself as he teases, “You were scared? How do you think I felt?”

“Oh shut up. I’m serious. I thought you were gone, and then they said you might not make it.”

“We’ll I’m here now, baby, and I’m doing just fine.” Billy assures, so much confidence in his voice, albeit tired and worn, that Steve believes him.

Steve smiles, Billy’s attitude being back such a relief to his worry, “I love you, Bill.”

“Love you too.”

“Is that my bandana?” Steve gently tugs on the bandana tied at the back of Billy’s neck, the tiniest blush appearing on his face, but before he can answer, Max pipes up from the doorway, “And is that my watch?”

Billy’s face lights up all over again, “Maxi! C’mere, shitbird.”

Max runs up to her brother, stopping just short of the bed, her freckled cheeks already tracked with tears, “Am I allowed to hug you?”

“I fought monsters and you’re worried a hug’s gonna hurt me?” Billy smiles and holds his arms out for her, “Give your big brother a hug.”

Still just on the side of apprehensive, Max hugs him, and Billy starts to interrogate her, asking quietly, “Are you okay, Maxi? How’s home been? Has Neil hurt you?”

Max shakes her head, “Your dad’s been all depressed since you.. well since you died. He hasn’t hit my mom since before your funeral.”

“You telling me the truth?” He looks to Steve for confirmation, who nods as well, had heard the same from Max.

“Well don't congratulate him for that. I have half a mind to take that shotgun down there and give it to him for everything he did before.” Billy continues, voice grumbly, but Max pulls away from his hug to tell him, “Please don’t. You don’t ever even have to come home again. I never want to see you act how you used to have to around your dad again.”

“I’m not leaving you, Max.”

“You won’t be. Like I said, he doesn’t bother us anymore.” Max drops her voice to a whisper, her face somber and serious, “Just move in with Steve, please. That would make me feel better.”

It won’t be that easy, the two of them both know that if the glance they share says anything, but Billy agrees regardless, can’t bear to crush his sisters optimism after everything she already had gone through because of him.

“Alright, Maxi. I trust you.” Billy undoes the small yellow watch on his wrist, handing it back to her, “You can have this back. Sorry if it’s broken.”

Max takes the watch gently, holding it tightly in her hand and throwing herself into him for another hug, sobbing hard into Billy’s chest as her well-kept composure comes undone. He holds her and runs his fingers through her hair, mumbling on repeat, “I gotcha, Maxi. M’sorry.”

It takes until Joyce comes back in the room with news for her crying to calm down, pulling away from him and retreating to stand by El while she listens, a couple of the other kids thumbing away discreet tears from the emotional display as well.

Joyce had at first ushered all the kids in the room and told them to be supportive of Max, before leaving to talk with Billy’s doctors in the absence of his parents. Now she was back with something to say, and Billy looks to her expectantly, “So? How long’re they keepin’ me in this hell hole?”

“A month at least. They’re going to want to do a lot of tests. Monitor how you’re adjusting.” She smiles sympathetically, “I wish I had better news, but it’s for the best they keep you a while.”

Steve looks to Billy, holding his hand for assurance, worried he’ll take it badly, but he only nods determinedly, “Whatever it takes.”

#harringrove big bang 2021 #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #billy & max #max mayfield #ej writer #story by ej!#almost done! we’re in the home stretch y’all!

13 notes · View notes

cloudy-leonhart · 4 years ago

Text

The Wolf God’s Human Daughter.

[Author Note: alright, hear me out, I rewatched Princess Mononoke, and it was so friggin good I just needed to write it AOT version, originally it was going to be a Reiner x Reader, but I decided with Armin cuz why tf not]

[Summary: After voluntarily leaving his tribe after being infected by a god taken over by a demon, he wanders around the lands, meeting a woman, named Reader in the forest with a god. He meets once again, in a town called Irontown, in which he saves her from death while trying to survive his own.]

(I DON’T OWN PRINCESS MONONOKE)

Pairings: Armin Arlert x Reader.

Type: Feminine Reader.

Theme: Fluff/Action.

TW: blood, fighting, shotguns(?).

Recommended Song: Princess Mononoke- Main Theme.

[gif rightfully belongs to owner]

“No! But you can’t leave tomorrow!” A woman whined out, Armin had asked to help around the Irontown women and was getting ready to head out. “Can’t you stay a little longer?” Another voice cried out, Armin almost backed out from the whining voices who were obviously sad at the fact that he will be leaving so soon.

“You can stay and work here!” A brunette woman tried to convince Armin to stay, in which he just countered with a small smile and a chuckle, “Thanks, but there’s someone I have to find out in the forest.” He explained, holding onto his sword’s handle. A small vision flashed through Armin’s eyes as he gasped quietly.

It was the same woman he met by the creek, who was helping the wolf god before disappearing. He saw a glimpse of her riding one of the wolves he saw earlier in the day. Charging for Irontown, he presumed. He looked off to where he felt her aura the most, looking very deep in thought, the women followed, looking in the same direction he was.

“She’s here.” Armin mumbled, suddenly taking off to the direction of the mysterious person’s aura. A loud banging against an iron plate sounded around the town, an alarm from one of the people who’s on night shift. “The wolves are coming! It’s the wolf princess!” the person yelled out, banging the hammer as hard as he could so the whole town could hear.

You jumped up onto the top of the walls, you made eye contact with the spearman who defended the side you had infiltrated. You held onto your dagger tightly as the man swung his spear, breaking the spiked-shaped wood as you dodged, jumping a few meters away.

You dodged every single attack of the spearman as he tried to do as much as slash you, you slashed your dagger towards his direction, where he struggled with his balance, falling off the platform of the fort.

You ran towards the right side of the fort, a man with a shotgun sat up high in a better fort, shooting at you. You jumped up high enough to dodge the bullet, you felt yourself pant as you jumped onto another rooftop, running towards the center of the town.

Armin ran towards the sounds of shooting, he panted as he held onto his sword by his waist, Armin looked up, seeing your masked figure running right on top of him, both of you made eye-contact for a few seconds before you started running once again, Armin didn’t realize that you made eye contact since your face was covered by your mask.

you made a risky leap as you landed right in front of the blonde, you slashed your dagger as Armin moved back to avoid being gutted by you. He grabbed his sword from its scabbard clashing with your dagger, he grunted, your strength was not something familiar, it matched the strength of a wolf, rather than man nor woman.

He tried to make you stop your attacks, he yelled out, “Stop!” as his sword and your dagger clashed more, “Wait! I don’t want to fight you, I’m a friend.” He tried to convince you. You grunted, realizing the growing number of people, you knew if you didn’t get out there in seconds you’ll be killed, you jumped up, using the roofs as your escape.

You ran towards the factory of the town, you could tell the blonde was right behind you, following you, Armin could barely keep up with your speed, he breathed in from the nose and out his mouth as he kept running, he could hear how much ruckus you were causing.

You hid on the top of the factory as the wretched Eboshi you despised so much came into view, you scowled as she called out for you, “Can you hear me, Princess of Beasts? If it’s me you want, here I am.” She called out, Armin saw what she was doing and was afraid you would get killed.

“If you seek revenge for all the animals we killed,” Eboshi’s strong and stern voice taunted, “well, there are two women down here, whom I’d love for you to meet.” Eboshi spoke with cockiness, Armin watched from a rooftop as two women beside her propped up their rifles.

“They want revenge for husbands killed by your wolves.” Eboshi called out, glancing at the women beside her, everyone could tell that both of them were brimming with anger. “Come on out, you little witch! My husband’s dead because of you!” One of them taunted and threatened, holding their rifle tightly.

Armin’s gaze left the crowds of people with spears, looking over to you, where you were crouched behind the roof, he grunted, you stood up onto the roof, as the people alarmed the wretch they called m’lady about you showing yourself to the crowd.

“There she is!”

It was loud and unorganized down by the land, you stared at the pitiful humans following Eboshi, “Everybody, out of the way!” A man warned, his hand was outstretched, “Riflemen, get ready to fire!”

Armin watched as a few riflemen positioned themselves and their rifles towards you, he felt his heart quicken, he scowled, a silent gasp was let out. “It’s a trap,” Armin put it all together, “No! Wait!” He yelled out, trying to warn you, you ignored his pleas and cries as you kept staring at Eboshi with pure hatred.

he groaned as he left his hiding spot, “Princess of the wolf gods! Don’t go down there!” He called out, desperate to make you turn around or retreat back to your home, or the forest. He started to get annoyed about how you were ignoring him. “Go back to the forest!” He tried his best to convince you to turn back.

“Don’t throw your life away!”

You looked at him from the corner of your sight, you were slightly irritated, since he didn’t even know you, why’s he so set on saving you, you decided he wasn’t worth your time and raised your dagger up, starting to run down the roof. You were swift, just like a wolf, although your footsteps were light.

Armin mentally groaned as he ran towards you, hoping to cut you off before you landed down on the ground, where you’d be kebabed as soon as you touched the dirt. The riflemen shot right where you ran into, you felt your body fly off in a flip, you let out a pained grunt as you clutched your side.

Armin leaned back, grunting from the heat of the shots of the rifles, he felt a few wood chips get lodged into his arm, he hissed and pulled them out, drops of blood staining the fabric wrapped around his arm.

“She’s down! We got her!” One of the men yelled, running close to your body, you were in a state of shock as you tried to get up, grunting and silently whimpering from the pain of your impact. “Stay back!” Eboshi warned, looking behind her, although she was ruthless, she did not want to lose any of her people to someone like you. She looked back at your injured figure, rolling down her factory, continuing to speak. “Cut off a wolf’s head, and it still has power to bite.”

Eboshi looked to the right of her, to the woman who had her rifle up and ready to shoot, whispering out, “Take aim right where she falls.” The woman responded with a ‘right!’ before looking back at you.

Armin panicked, you were going to get killed at this point, he looked for a way to keep you safe, he glanced at your body slowly rolling down nearer and nearer to the ground. He looked back, he gripped onto the wooden logs of the factory, he struggled as he tried to rip a part of the log out, he felt the wounds in his arm sting and throb with pain, he gritted his teeth so he didn’t let out a yelp of pain.

You fell right to the ground, landing on your knees and hands, you huffed and shakily stood up, looking up to Eboshi. She scowled and yelled out, “Open fire!” Both women with Eboshi pulled the trigger, lighting the rifles and aiming it directly at you with the intent to kill. You felt a heavy force hit your masks, breaking it into pieces, you were shot back, falling back to the ground, you were unconscious from the impact of the shot.

You let out a breath as you felt yourself start to fade in and out of consciousness.

the men of the town took this as a sign to charge right at you, unaware of the log Armin was about to drop to keep you away from them. “Stay back!” Armin called out, dropping the log down, the men stepped back, a bunch letting out yells of surprise. He dropped down near your body, grabbing at your shoulders and shaking you lightly.

“wake up,” He softly called, you felt him shaking you, your eyes shot open and your hand swung, cutting his cheek, he winced and jumped back a few feet away. He dodged your swings, until he was out of your way, you lost your attention on him, running towards where Eboshi was.

“No!” Armin warned, his hand reaching out towards your running figure. One of the men swung at you. You scowled and jumped up, most of the mens’ stare were up at you, looking as you landed on the man’s face, you jumped over the men and landed perfectly near Eboshi. The women beside her ran out of the way out of fear, Eboshi smirked as she threw her kimono cover out of the way.

Eboshi grabbed a small knife out of her pocket, you clashed against her sword as she tried to stab you with the knife, you dodged her swings as you returned some back, both of you brawled as some of the men yelled out and encouraged Eboshi to win. The clinks and clanks of your dagger and her sword encouraged you to keep fighting, stand your ground.

Armin recovered from your attack, he stood up as he felt anger and hatred fuel him, his felt his fists tighten as he walked towards the crowd, he pulled his sword from out the scabbard, approaching the crowd, the man you stepped on held his hand as he stood up, watching Armin approach with anger.

He saw the aura around his right hand, he gasped out of shock, “Traitor! You’re a spy for the wolves, aren’t you?!” Armin could see him slightly shaking, he can’t tell if it’s fear or shock, it might well be both. “Stay back!” The guy warned, holding onto his sword tighter.

Armin just scowled, his hand gripping onto the sword, bending it like it was nothing, it left some of his demonized hand’s aura on the sword, the man struggled to get the metal out of the blonde’s grip, he looked at Armin who stared back emotionlessly, “step aside.” he heard Armin speak out.

He stood speechless, as he watched Armin walk away, suddenly chattering his teeth as he saw the aura’s slugs try to bite him.

Armin threw men left and right, trying to get past the group. He pushed through a huge group of people, most of them toppling over each other from the force of his push. Irontown’s people stopped making commotion, as Eboshi spared a glance at Armin who approached them calmly, all the while still on defence with your attacks, you didn’t care about Armin coming up to the fight, if he gets hurt, it’s his fault, so you continued trying to hurt Eboshi.

He finally intervened, his right hand held your dagger, while his left hand stopped Eboshi’s sword, both gasped, you struggled against Armin’s hold. “What do you think you’re doing, boy?” Eboshi sneered, pulling her weight onto her sword against Armin. He grunted, “This girl’s life is now mine.” You paid no attention to what his words were, you bit down on his arm, trying to get him to let you go.

Eboshi scoffed with a taunting smile, “I’m sure she’ll make a lovely wife for you,” Armin held onto his sword tighty, “There’s a demon inside of you. It’s inside both of you.” You pulled back, seeing the shadows of the demonized hand come alive, you gasped, along with the townsfolk who were watching the whole commotion.

Armin looked away from Eboshi’s gaze, raising his voice, “Look everyone! This is what hatred looks like. This is what it does when it catches hold of you.” Whispers emerged from the townsfolk, although he kept speaking. “It’s eating me alive, and very soon now it will kill me!”

You have seen this from countless animals, all consumed by rage and hatred, you worried it would spread to you, trying to swat it away from you, fear starting to cloud your eyes. Armin felt you struggle in his hand, “Fear and anger only make it grow faster!” Eboshi felt like she was gonna burst a vein, annoyed at Armin’s antics. “I’m getting a little bored of this curse of yours, Armin.” She warned.

“Just let me cut the damn thing off!” She pulled out her small pocket knife, attempting to cut Armin’s arm. Armin felt her knife cut a bit of his hair away before stunning her with the hilt of his sword, making her slouch over onto his arm. He did the same to you, you fell unconscious and stunned, and tossed over his shoulder.

“Someone come take her from me!” For a bit, some of the people hesitated taking Eboshi from him, then a few ladies, came up and took her from Armin, calling out her name. “Don’t worry, she’s just stunned.” Armin comforted the worried ladies. He placed his sword back into it’s scabbard, repositioning you like a boar on his shoulder.

“As for me, I’m leaving, and I’m taking the wolf girl!” One of the girls Eboshi was with fell angry, she yelled out, “No you’re not! Nobody treats my lady Eboshi like that!” Armin just stared at her, as she aimed her rifle at him. “Move and I fire!” The woman was nervous, she was shooting down a human like her.

His eyes just softened as he turned around and walked away with you around his shoulders. Most didn’t bother stopping you, they parted a way for you to get out of the crowd. The woman shook nervously, the crowd’s eyes switching back to her and Armin, before another woman interrupted her, “Kiyo! What are you doing!” She yelped and pulled the trigger, striking Armin just above his abdomen.

Armin felt the pain as he stuttered in his steps, a second of shock then replaced with determination to get out of the town.

He walked towards the gate, a bunch of men were there guarding the wooden gate, a short man stopped Armin and you, as he glanced at him, gritting his teeth behind his lips, the pain starting to worsen. “Sir, I can’t let you pass.”

“The gate’s been ordered shut. It can’t be opened.” Armin stopped listening to the man’s words, moving forward, being blocked by two other guards, they whispered, almost pleading, “Turn back, please.” the other guard continued, “We’re grateful. You brought those men back to us. We don’t want to hurt you.” Both guards pleaded, Armin ignored them. “I walked in through this gate this morning.” He kept his tone stern and sharp. “Now, I’m leaving the same way.”

He held up his hand, and started pushing against the wooden gate, putting his strength into it. The guards panicked, “Don’t be a fool, it takes ten men to open this gate.” He gritted his teeth once again, feeling both the wound on his cheek and stomach start seeping out more blood, he felt his shoes absorb the liquid at his feet, yet he still kept pushing.

“Stop it! You’ll kill yourself!” The old man called out, taking note of the puddle of red liquid pooling at Armin’s feet. A rumbling could be heard, the gate was opening, all by Armin. The guards gasped in disbelief, “The gate’s opening!”

Armin had fully opened it enough for him to slip through with you in tow, he saw the white wolves that he assumed were your companions, he could also hear more men come to stop him from taking you and leaving.

Armin chose to ignore what was behind him, calling out to the approaching wolves, “She’s alright! Your princess is safe with me!” The wolves bared their teeth at him, cautious and worried. Growls emitting from the two white wolves. “Stay and I’ll bring her!” Armin instructed. Armin’s elk was behind him, “Come on, Yakul.” He waited for his elk to pass through before passing too, not before turning back.

“You have my thanks.” He stated, dropping the wooden gate and placing you on top of his elk, He rides with the wolves, who showed him the way to get you back home, his wound lost too much blood, and he was starting to get light headed.

You awoke from within his arms, gasping softly, you looked around your surroundings, the fields you used to love so much, broken and teared down by the humans. You felt Armin’s arms start to loosen around your waist, you whiped your head back, seeing Armin already falling off his elk. Your wolf brother growled and took him falling as a sign to bite your head off, if it wasn’t for you calling out to him.

“Stop it!” You called out, jumping off Armin’s elk, “Leave him, he’s mine.” You winced at the throbbing pain from your abdomen, you were sure there was a bruise. You looked down at him, his face was planted against the ground, you were confused.

“His own people shot him. He’s dying.” You observed, letting your wolf brother nuzzle their way under your arm. You saw him twitch, you crouched, complaining, “why did you stop me from killing her? Tell me while you’re still alive.” You demanded an answer from the injured blonde.

“I didn’t want them to kill you, that’s why.” Armin whsipered softly, in pain. “I’m not afraid to die! I’d do anything to get you humans out of my forest.” You spat with vile and disgust. “I knew that from the first moment I saw you.” He replied back.

“And I’m not afraid of you! I should kill you for saving her!” You yelled out in anger, reaching for his sword, turning him over in the process and pointing the very tip at his throat, as he struggled to breath.

“That woman is evil. There’s no one who can stop me from killing her.” You could feel yourself fill up with anger and pain. You were angry at the way they treated the forest. “No. Live.” Armin still continued to try and convince you to live, you shook your head, the tip of the sword touching his neck, “Shut up! I don’t listen to humans!” You felt like bursting out in flames, so angry to the point you seemed blinded in what you were doing.

Armin opened his eyes slightly, looking up at you, a scowl on your face, he took a deep breath, “You’re beautiful.” He commented, you froze, feeling heat rise up to your cheeks, you jumped away, feeling your back bump into your wolf brother. A gasp escaped your mouth, you were flustered.

You felt your brother speak, “What is it, Reader? Want me to crunch his face off?” You stayed quiet, before a rock broke you out of your confused thoughts, “the ape tribe,” you stated. “Apes, how dare you show such disrespect to the wolf clan!” he scolded the apes, who kept throwing rocks.

“This forest is ours,” One ape spoke out, “The human. Give him to us.” another spoke, “Give us the human and go.” A rock was thrown with the last sentence, you flinched, “Go! Before my fangs find you.” You brother threatened. The apes protested, “We will not go.” they chanted about eating Armin, you glanced at the blonde on the floor breathing heavily, seeming to want to live.

You and your brothers argued about Armin, he could barely hear your muffled voices, as you tried to reason with the Ape tribe.

Both parties had enough, as the wolves chased away the apes, Armin felt himself lose consciousness. You sighed and looked over to Armin’s resting figure.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about them.” You tried to comfort your brothers, “You go on ahead, I’ll stay here and deal with the human.” You made your decision, walking up to him. “What about the elk, can we eat him?” Your brothers asked, staring at the elk, panting hungrily, you smiled softly, laughing. “No, you may not. Go home.”

You looked over at the elk, “Come over here. Don’t worry, I’m a friend.” You encouraged the elk to come close to you. “Don’t be shy! I won’t hurt you, I need you to help me carry him.”

36 notes · View notes

fishingforyolos · 4 years ago

Text

That Awkward Moment When...

What if Dean got Castiel back from the Empty, and DIDN’T confess his love right away? What if instead, Dean and Cas just...didn’t know how to bring it up to one another, and forced Sam to endure the most intense third-wheel moment that he’s ever experienced, while these two emotionally constipated dumbasses sat in awkward silence?

This is here to answer that question.

________________________________________

Ahem.

It was the fourth time within two minutes that Dean had cleared his throat, and pretended to look out the window.

Sam was counting, now, in a desperate bid to distract from the incredible, palpable awkward silence emanating from the front seat of the car.

He had given Cas the front as a KIND gesture. He was being nice! It was only FAIR that the guy who had just escaped from super mega turbohell got to have a free pass at riding shotgun.

Or, so he thought. When he sidled into the backseat an hour ago, he did not anticipate the absolutely lethal levels of weird that Cas and Dean would be radiating—all pretending not to look at each other, conspicuous rubbing of the back of their necks, and god DAMN it Dean was fake-looking out the window AGAIN! There was nothing out there but corn, Dean!! Corn for miles!!!

Sam sat back and groaned. This was one of the most intolerable hours that he had ever witnessed in this godforsaken car, and that was saying something.

He allowed himself to drift off into his thoughts, letting his analytical side take over. Whatever it was, it probably happened in the bunker, right before Cas was taken by the Empty. Dean had been very...vague, about that situation, which only made Sam all the more curious. What could they have SAID to each other? Sam was no stranger to having a tense relationship with Castiel, but...if they were mad at each other, they’d be doing that stupid stony-faced silent treatment. But no, they both seemed too full of nervous energy. Cas was currently rifling through the glovebox, of all goddamn things, and Dean was toggling the blinker back and forth on a two-lane highway.

Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

“Are these...salted?” asked Castiel, holding up a box of bullets as if they were a sale item at Costco.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” said Dean taking a quick glance, “We bought those for the uh...for the ghosts.”

“I see,” said Castiel, nodding for just a bit too long.

Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

Sam scrubbed his face with his hands. He had been to hell before, but listening to bad small talk was its own special kind of hell. What happened in that bunker room that would make them behave like-

Like-

Sam’s mouth fell open.

Like the awkward morning after.

“Oh, my God,” Sam blurted, before he could stop himself, “Did-did you two have a one-night stand?”

Castiel dropped the box of bullets.

Dean choked on nothing.

“Sam, what the HELL?!” he coughed.

“Well, SORRY,” Sam said, in a way that he hoped conveyed how NOT sorry he was, “But you guys are acting, uhhh, really weird, and I thought maybe, I dunno-”

He shrugged, and held his hands up in defense against Dean’s murderous glare, “I thought maybe you hooked up! Y’know, last night on earth style!”

“Wha-no. No, no, no,” Dean said again, gesturing forcefully with one hand before pointing directly at Sam, “That’s-that’s not what happened in there.”

“Indeed,” Castiel murmured lowly, throwing a glance to the backseat, “I can assure you, it was worse.”

Dean nearly swerved off the road.

Sam’s jaw fell open again, eyes flicking from Dean to Cas. “W-WORSE?!”

“Oh my FUCKING god,” Dean whispered into the steering wheel.

“What I mean is, it was more...personally humiliating. To me,” Castiel clarified.

Sam blinked several times, trying to process this new bit of information.

“But I thought...you said, that the Empty's deal was about you experiencing happiness,” Sam said, shifting back into analytical mode, “Does it make an...exception, for humiliation?”

He sat back and grimaced, as he weighed the horrible possibility in his mind. “Is it into that??”

“W-well,” stuttered Castiel, his gravelly voice betraying his discomfort, “Regardless of the...preferences, sexual or otherwise, of the Empty-”

Dean suddenly slammed the steering wheel with his palm.

“Can you two PLEASE, shut up?!” he roared, “And let me fucking DRIVE in PEACE?!”

Sam and Cas fell silent, the atmosphere of the Impala even more tense than before.

Sam put his head in his hands. God, he should have just kept his mouth shut. Or maybe, he should have just taken shotgun in the first place, and stuck Cas in the back. Would've saved everyone all this trouble, maybe.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said, finally breaking the silence.

Sam pursed his lips in annoyance. He could already tell, simply by the look on Cas’ face, that this was going to be another heart-to-heart where they completely forgot he existed.

Dean, meanwhile, didn’t react.

“I…” Castiel sighed, “I don’t...mean to make things awkward, it’s just that I didn’t-I never expected to SEE you again.”

“Really, Cas?” Dean exploded, “Really? After all we’ve been through, after all the times we’ve dragged each other out of the clutches of-of Hell, Heaven, you name it, you didn’t-you didn’t even consider the POSSIBILITY that we’d get you out?”

“Of course I considered it,” Castiel said quietly, “It was my most desperate desire."

He sat back, and turned to direct his gaze out the window.

“But there is a sort of...freedom, in confessing directly before death,” Castiel said, speaking a fog onto the window with each word, “All the vulnerability...none of the consequences.”

Sam’s eyes flew wide open as it all finally clicked.

No way. No way. NO WAY.

He shot up straight, incredulity plastered across his face that the other two were too preoccupied to notice.

DId Castiel...confess his feelings in that bunker? Make a move? Shoot his shot? And then DIE?!

What the fuck, Cas?

Sam sat back, reeling, running his fingers through his hair as Dean and Cas continued to stare out separate windows. He quite literally didn’t think he would LIVE to see the day that they acknowledged their...thing, and now they were doing it right in front of his eyes.

“I...I meant what I said, Dean,” Castiel said, fixing Dean’s profile with a longing stare, “Every single word. And I still do.”

Sam turned back toward Dean, hunched defensively over the wheel of the Impala. He still wouldn’t look at Cas.

Please, Sam prayed silently, Don’t fuck this up.

“But, I’m acutely aware that it made things different between us,” Castiel sighed, “And I’m sorry for that. I can’t take it back. However-”

“I love you.”

If he wasn’t literally watching Dean’s mouth move as he said it, Sam wouldn’t have believed his ears. Holy shit.

He whipped his head back to Castiel, who was stopped in his tracks like a deer in headlights.

Even the rain, beating against the windshield at 70 miles an hour, didn’t dare interrupt the moment at hand.

Dean was still staring out at the road, hands gripping the wheel like he was clinging to sanity itself.

“You didn’t let me say it back,” Dean said through gritted teeth, “In the bunker, you just-you dropped that on me, and then you were GONE, and you didn’t even let me say it back.”

Sam’s mouth was agape once again, eyes flicking back and forth between his brother and the equally speechless angel. The air between them was charged, and ready for a lightning strike.

“W-when you say that,” Castiel said, after a solid ten seconds of trying to find his voice, “Do you-do you mean it-”

Dean DID swerve off the road this time, sending Sam sprawling across the backseat as he skidded to a stop on the shoulder.

“Ow! Dean, what the-”

“Yeah, Castiel,” Dean said, finally taking his eyes off the road to fix him with a wild look, “I mean it. Same way you did. When you said that-that the one thing you wanted, you couldn’t have, it-it didn’t make any sense, because I always thought that I was the one wanting what I couldn’t-who I couldn't-”

He sniffled.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this in the CAR,” Dean said, wiping his eyes, “Not in front of Sammy.”

“Honestly? I prefer this over the past miserable hour,” Sam said, leaning back, “Do what you gotta do, man. Just...pretend I’m not here.”

Dean actually chuckled at that, but turned his attention back to Cas, who was still blinking in shock.

“Cas, you...you gotta understand,” Dean said carefully, reaching across the seat and cupping Cas’ cheek in a hand, “Come hell or high water, you have me.”

He swallowed hard. “You don’t have to...to want, I-I’m yours, a-already in the bag. Got it?”

Tears tracked down Castiel’s face as he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to stop a wide, tearful smile from spreading across his face.

Dean visibly softened, and brought Castiel’s face in, kissing him right on the mouth.

Sam hoped he wouldn't come to regret the "do what you gotta do" comment, but they broke apart just a moment later to touch foreheads like a couple of saps.

“...Yaaay, congratulations!” Sam said, waving celebratory arms in the air as widely as he could in the cramped backseat. He searched around him and found some crumpled receipts, which he tossed into the front seat. “Whoo! Confetti!”

“Sam…” Dean said, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“I appreciate your jubilation, Sam,” Castiel said, dead seriously, looking back at him with just his eyes, “Your approval means a lot to me.”

"Hey,” Sam said, clapping Castiel on the shoulder, “This changes nothing. You're still like a brother to me, man. You’re still family."

Cas smiled at him. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Aww, look at that smile, Sammy,” Dean said, tapping Cas on the cheek, “Look at it! How could anybody resist that smile?”

“I dunno, Dean, it’s pretty easy when you’re not in love with him,” Sam smiled.

“Welp,” shrugged Dean casually, as he shifted the car back into drive, “Guess I wouldn’t know, then.”

Sam was taken aback by the...ease, with which all that just rolled off of Dean’s tongue.

“God,” Sam groaned, “You’re going to be an INSUFFERABLE couple.”

Dean just laughed, light and loud, as he merged back onto the highway, offering out his right hand.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Castiel said, taking the offered hand with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, "But as you can see, I cannot resist his charm."

Sam rolled his eyes at that, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. It was insufferable, yes, and Sam was going to have to have a LONG talk with Dean later, but...for now, he just laughed, as the tension bled out of the car, and Dean FINALLY turned on the stereo, letting the soothing sound of Led Zeppelin carry them into a lighter mood.

Sam took a deep breath, and let it out slow. Maybe sometimes, good things do happen.

#supernatural #destiel #15x19 compliant #i havent been invested in SPN since about 2013 but i dug deep into my recollections to summon these guys' voices one more time #i didnt put this on a main blog bc i didnt want people to expect SPN from me #i just had this mental image in my head of sam having to endure this moment #and i laughed so hard that i had to see it through #godspeed spn people and good luck on thursday #honk honk honk thats my clown nose when i started writing this 'as a joke'

73 notes · View notes

flowers-of-io · 4 years ago

Text

#10 Blood

Read it on AO3 here

You put the gun into your mouth To bite the bullet and spit out Cause it's running in the family All the rituals of you and me

Eris Morn stares at the pyramid, sharp against the backdrop of Jupiter peeking out from behind the horizon. It is dawning on Io. Asher is standing by her side, silent in horror and fury, and wonder. His human hand is clenched into a fist and the Vex one shudders convulsively.

“I’m going down there,” she says, her voice ringing loudly in the deafening silence.

“You’re in a rush to your grave I see.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the pyramid.

“If I don’t, we all will find ourselves there even sooner.” She pulls out a dagger and begins making her way down the cliff. Asher does not try to talk her out of it; he knows her well enough to acknowledge it is no use.

“Eris.” Instead, he tosses her his shotgun. Their eyes meet and a comfortable silence lingers between them for a while, until she finally nods and turns towards the cliffside.

He watches her disappear in the distance and, knowing she cannot hear it—though it would make no difference if she could—says quietly, “Be safe.”

Fiddling with the radio knobs, Asher tries to contain his panic. Because fear is unreasonable, he murmurs to himself, because it obscures his vision, because they are all—every single damn one of them—utter morons; because how irredeemable of an idiot must you be to as much as consider such a fool’s errand worthy of your time and resources? Because they are fools, fools with no brain and blood on their hands, putting lives at stake in the same stupid way and expecting a different result—

A signal pierces through the static. Asher catches his breath.

“—do not let the atrocities of Crota haunt you. Whatever this is, we will not let the tragedies of our past repeat—”

He slams his open palm against the table so hard the radio trembles. Idiots! Have they truly learned nothing, are they truly expecting to miraculously work out by the golden rule of fortune favouring fools? Oh, now they have brought tanks, that will surely turn the tide!

But even through his ire, he cannot help but listen to the distant gunshots and scarce commands. He tries so hard to keep from hoping, because hope is a fool’s errand and only ever makes things harder. Too well does he know the pang of guilt every time a frantic call for support shakes the airwaves he is listening in on; his body stirs, ready to get up and rush to aid, but he cannot, all he would ever do is listen to the cries of anguish and lists of casualties read out monotonously long into the night. Both remorse and self-pity swirl together like sugar crystals in stirred tea as his hand twitches, as he almost reaches out to kill the signal but always holds himself back.

It is hours later when the battle dies down. From the scraps of dispatches and commands it seems the calamity has been avoided, and Asher leans back in his chair with weariness matching that of a field-bound solider. His radio picks up on the chatter of post-fight reports, Ikora talking so fast it is barely comprehensible, someone’s response driven out by the hum of static

Even through the interference, he recognises the voice and fights back a sigh of relief so profound he can almost feel tears in his eyes.

“Good to know you are still alive,” he barks into the comms, as dryly as he can muster; both glad and angry and acknowledging none of these emotions.

“Asher,” Eris breathes, “I’m sorry… I could not—”

“Are you allowing this buffoonery?”

“It was a Vanguard operation,” she says with a hint of bitterness, “but there is something entirely more terrible here—something ancient. What we have forgotten the fear of. The storm rumbling overhead.”

“Remain clear in your purpose, then.” He closes his eyes. “But do not… succumb to it.”

A long moment of silence settles between them, static cracking, before she responds.

“I have seen the Dreaming City, cousin.” There is both sorrow and wonder in her voice, as if she was telling a fairytale. “One day, I will take you there.”

“Have you seen the Traveler yet?”

Asher cocks his head, looking up from the piece of fossil he is turning in his hands. Eris is staring straight into the distance, at the aurora-painted skies and the colossus of Jupiter, and the majestic Cradle below it. Unmoving, save for the thick black flow down her cheeks.

“No.” He follows her gaze, taking in the unearthly cyan glow of the evening sweeping over Io. Distant geysers are but white streaks against the background of the star-specked blanket of sky. After a short, tentative silence, he adds, “I don’t think I will.”

Eris’ eyes flick to him, the briefest glance before they turn back to gaze at the horizon, “I heard it’s magnificent and heartbreaking. A shattered chalice of Light.”

Asher watches the swirling fumes rising up, up towards the skies. He can almost feel its radiance from the distance, prickling against his skin and warming his core. Is not Io just that, he thinks, a shattered chalice filled to overflow, rivers of brightness spilled and still trailing between its rocks?

“Have you seen it?” He asks despite knowing the answer.

She shakes her head. The City is a fickle lover, loud and kaleidoscope-changing. Some things are fit to be adored from the distance.

“It gives me hope,” she says softly after a while, and the glow of her eyes flickers. “How it maimed itself to shatter the cage, broken and radiant.”

Asher thinks bitterly how fitting it is that she has moved to the Moon, to poke and prod and taunt the darkness that marred her out of something more than burning vengeance. He is all too aware of the Pyramidion’s angular shape behind his back.

They sit in the cyan glow, two broken and radiant things on yellow sandstone, and the silence between them is dim and warm like the swelling night.

On the day Oryx falls, Eris stumbles into his quarters trembling like an aspen leaf. It is late, only a few windows in the Tower still aglow, and the City engulfed in the uneasy slumber of a battle raging overhead. But she has felt him die in the inmost depths of her core, and the shudder which tore through the cosmos in that moment left no room for doubts.

Asher makes her tea she is too nauseous to drink and curls up on the sofa with a book in a nest of blankets and pillows. She just watches the Traveler, bright and absurdly gentle against the horrors of this night.

“I dread the next step,” she says quietly.

“Take comfort in this triumph, if nothing else.” The soft rustle of flipping a page seems deafening in the stillness of the room. “You did kill a god today.”

“And what good did it bring?” The words are out before she can stop them; she knows it is a wrong question to ask. She knows she should keep her eyes fixed on the purpose. Yet she allows herself a second of bitter grief, of Eriana’s face etched silver in her mind and the itch of tears streaming down her scarred cheeks.

“Is the path you’re walking worthy of your fear?”

The question shakes her out from the stupor. She turns to meet his gaze, fixed on her from above the book.

“Yes.”

“Then walk it.”

The next time she sees him is in the hospital.

It is a lovely autumn, painting the Tower plaza red and yellow in an eternal sunset, leaves dancing in the air as gusts of wind pull them into a waltz. Eris can see the trees from her hospital window but their beauty frightens her, the effortlessness with which their branches sway and shimmer in the sunlight just another punch of realisation how nothing will ever be good and safe and beautiful again. It takes her three weeks to start speaking again, yet everybody is quick to shun her when she begins talking of the Hellmouth. Only Ikora stays, teary-eyed, tending to the burns on her head and limbs and examining the amputated toe, swallowing Eris’ every word like poison that soaks into her bloodstream with toxin of woe.

Asher does not cry, does not look away with disgust-laced pity. He makes her tea and the first proper meal she has eaten since leaving the hospital, sits down across the table and watches her with scientific curiosity. He does not negate the change, but there is no condescending sympathy in how he looks at her eyes and scars and patchy skin. And most of all, he allows her to talk; and when she finally finds the strength to begin, she cannot bear to stop. Words spill out of her like the black tears from her eyes, rotten and terrible, as she claws furiously at her core to scrub them off, to cleanse herself of the putrid stench of death clinging to her bones. He grounds her with practical questions, his matter-of-factness comfortingly familiar. It calms her when she starts shaking and losing her grip, a constant to hold on to against the deafening howl of her own twisted thoughts.

He lets her shuffle through his books and lie on his floor and does not ask whether her eyes hurt. He goes on as normal; even when she startles at every sudden noise and bleeds ink over his sofa throw, when she is whispering to herself and scratching at the scars on her skin. He just leans over the table, passing her a sheet of half translated text. He has been trying to decipher the Cabal language and wants her to take a look.

She is grateful.

“I do not advise this.”

Eris cocks an eyebrow at him, “I expected stronger words.”

Her glance is bold behind the veil of steam from the cup of tea she is holding, the feignedness almost undetectable. But her fingers are stiff and pale, clutching the porcelite like a lifeline, and her foot bobs nervously under the table; and when Asher meets her gaze, she looks away.

“I thought of Eriana as of someone possessing as much as half a braincell.” He stirs his own tea meticulously. “I understand she is grieving, but this idea is ridiculous. Dragging you to die together down there will not return Wei to her.”

“As long as Crota lives, no one is safe. This is not just about vengeance.”

“And what makes you think you two can achieve what thousands of Guardians failed to?”

She hates the disdain in his voice, the judgemental glare he is flashing her across the table. Like an older brother deriding a bratty sister.

“There isn’t just the two of us.” She leans forward, narrowing her eyes. Challenging him. “Sai and Vell are more than willing to crush Crota. Knowing Omar, I think he’ll join in gladly. Mare Imbrium took its toll on more than just Eriana, you know.”

“Mare Imbrium was a Titan’s tomfoolery,” Asher raises the cup to his mouth in an annoyingly dragged-out gesture. “We knew nothing about the Hive. Nothing about the weapons they used. Now we’re only beginning to scratch the surface, and frankly, I do not like what I’m finding.”

Eris crosses her arms, “Toland says—"

“Toland!” He smacks the cup against the saucer so rapidly the tea spills out. “You... Out of all the people, all the wretched charlatans in this bloody system… You’ve come to him?!”

“He knows more than you think.”

“He will lead you there to die smiling all the way through!”

Eris’ silver-grey eyes turn to steel. She bares her teeth like an angry animal about to strike, “What would you have me do, then? Get over it? Over Aparajita, and Gunnvor, and Jagi, and Lee? Over Wei? They died to reclaim the Moon. We owe them to continue the fight!”

“Don’t mistake idiocy for bravery, Eris.”

“Stop doing that.” Asher raises his eyebrow, and she adds, “Talking to me like to a child.”

“You act like one.”

Eris springs up, her chair swinging backward and nearly falling to the floor. Her hand itches to stab him where it hurts the most, to ask him where he was while she watched the corpses of her friends scattered over Lunar rocks. To tell him to sit on his ass in this damn library and keep lying to himself he is being useful. Her love for him boils and burns, and the bland disapproval on his face feels like a searing brand stamped on her with an iron rod.

She storms off, turning back at the door to give him one final, furious glare. Her eyes well up with angry tears, and it is the last time Asher sees them.

A signal pierces through the static. Asher catches his breath. Even through the interference, he recognises the voice and fights back a sigh of relief so profound he can almost feel tears in his eyes.

“—call for retreat! I repeat, this is Eris Morn of unit eight-three-seven. I have lost a third of my cohort, I call for retreat! We are dying out here!”

She is alive, for now. He picked up on Conar and Pujari earlier, the former badly wounded and packed up on an evac shuttle; Vell is still kicking somewhere out there too—stupid Titan—yelling curses interrupted by bullets into the comms. Dropping dead, getting rezzed, cursing again.

But even through his ire, Asher cannot help but listen to the distant gunshots and scarce commands. He tries so hard to keep from hoping, because hope is a fool’s errand and only ever makes things harder. He knows well that by the time the battle dies down, there will have been hundreds of Ghostless and dead and nonresponding, and he will have swallowed just as many I-told-you-so’s down his throat. He is furious, furious and mournful for the lives lost, and guilty for the warmth of his apartment and the untouched mug of now-cold tea. He should not have gone there, he is right to have stayed, yet every sound of battle is like a prick of conscience—making him wonder ever so briefly if this had been a life only just snuffed out, one he could have, possibly, saved.

The smell of smouldered flesh is still strong in the air when Eris lowers her hands, the storm of Light around her subsiding. What is left of the ahamkara are wind-scattered ashes, strangely silent after the recent din of hurricane and whispers. Ikora pokes them with the barrel of her rifle; her face intent, wary. They hardly ever go down easily.

But all is quiet. A breeze rustles Eris’ hair gently, a welcome respite from the humidity of Venusian jungles, and after a minute of fraught silence Ikora looks up and her eyes soften.

“Looks like we’re done here,” she slings the weapon over her shoulder and summons a Sparrow, “If we’re quick, we can make it for dinner.”

Eris still watches the ashes, the breeze sweeping them gently across the terrain. When Ikora calls after her, she nods absently and turns away; the hand in her pocket tightening around a shard of bone that seems to fit perfectly into her palm.

Back in her room, she lies on her back and stares up at it, fingers caressing the jags and curves of its surface. It is beautiful and ancient. She thinks briefly about embedding it in silver, creating a jewellery piece or ceremonial weapon, but then rejects the notion. She will wrap it in leather and place in her locker, safe under layers of cloth and paper, her ultimate safeguard.

She falls asleep with her fingers clasped tightly around it, and dreams of sunshine and marketplace chatter, of silvery laughter and stalls full of fruits red and fresh like the sunrise.

“Praedyth complained about you.”

“Oh did he,” Asher does not look up from the book he is slouched over, the unkept mess of alabaster hair giving in to gravity and falling over his face. “He tires me.”

Eris’ lips quirk slightly upwards as she reaches for their shared bottle of liquor. It is a cheap Moscato, sweet and sickly-aromatic, and in the afternoon sun flooding the rooftop they have perched upon it looks like molten gold. “What do you think of this hunt anyway?”

“By the way they’re approaching it? I’m surprised there have been no casualties yet.”

“Osiris and Tallu were arguing about it yesterday. He said he didn’t approve of genociding an entire species.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Asher hums and dogears a page.

She regards him sternly, sunlight gilding her hair and flickering on the hilts of her sheathed knives. “They are extremely dangerous.”

“Every power is when you abuse it.”

“But not every power can make you abuse it.”

She has a point and Asher hates it, but he deems the matter unworthy of butting heads over it any longer. It would not deter Fairwind and Saint anyway, even if Osiris shared his rightful concerns. He closes the book and sits straighter, running a hand through his hair absently.

“With their Wei Ning mentality, all this ‘hunt’ is gonna be is a brawl.” He shoots her a weighty glance, “And of course you’ll join in on the folly.”

“The knowledge they possess—”

“Oh don’t give me that,” his hand outstretches in a demanding gesture, and as Eris passes him the bottle, his features soften, “It would be a waste if you died.”

Sunlight flickers between City buildings, slipping through the balcony fences and strings of garlands stretched above streets. The market square is swarming with people; the colours of awnings over the stalls and fruits stacked in crates are vibrant and loud and heavy with summer’s daze. Ripe-sweet scent of blooming flowers lingers in the air.

A little girl ducks under her mother’s arm and starts squeezing through the crowd—as she runs, the yellows and reds and grey cobblestone all flash past and come colliding when a stall or a body suddenly sprouts in front of her. She rams into it laughing, and zaps away before the surprised rebuke has a chance to reach her.

“Wait for me!” A boy calls after her, struggling to keep up. She does not stop until they are blocks away from the marketplace, away from the clamour and swirling crowds, by an old boathouse on the bank of the river. The heat is more bearable here, and the sunshine glimmers on the surface like stardust. The girl looks up the weathered planks, squinting.

“I’m gonna climb the roof.”

“You’re gonna break your legs.”

“I don’t care.” She already has one foot in a knothole. “Stay down here, if you want to miss the view.”

The boy crosses his arms, watching her try to find a handhold. Bravery and idiocy are indistinguishable in their small world, when the most courageous thing you can do is grin through the hurt and claim the height of the fall was worth it.

“Will you come down when I call you?” He asks, with just the tiniest hint of anxiety to his tone.

She glances at him and for a flicker there is some eager honesty in her eyes—or just the bright, reckless innocence of a child.

“I always will.”

#this took forever to make......#idk why i thought making a prompt fill OVER 3K WORDS LONG was a good idea #i love them i love them i can't shut up about them #eris morn #asher mir #destiny 2 #my fics #destiny 2 fic #eris morning #gensym scribe #destcember #destcember2020 #cousins

15 notes · View notes

siren-queen-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Never Ending (Part 2)

I’ve had this in my drafts for a while now...I’m happy with it but at the same time, I’m not? I’m just too critical of myself sometimes and this is one of those times because I want this to be a great sequel and possible series taking place in season 2 of The Punisher. I’ve polished it up and just decided to finally post it and get through it. So I hope you guys enjoy!

This is slowly starting to become Frank Castle x Reader and I don’t know how that got away from me since this started as a Billy/Reader one shot. But I am here for it and enjoying what I have planned.

Part 1

Masterlist

(gif not mine)

=================================

Holy shit...holy shit…

This was happening. Billy Russo, your ex and rightfully so, was standing in your living room. You had literally just heard not even a full hour ago that he had escaped and he was already here. Madani hadn’t gotten your protection fast enough...hell would that have even helped?

“You look good, Y/N.” Billy told you, a small and genuine smile on his face.

You chose to remain silent as you clutched the phone in your hand tightly, your thumb still hovering over the green button on Frank’s contact number.

“Come on. Sit down.” Billy motioned to your couch, a smile still intact on his face.

You glanced between Billy and the couch, your thumb pressing the green button on your phone. You tucked it in your back pocket, bottom side up so that the mic could pick up your conversation and Frank could hear...please let him pick up and not have this saved on his voicemail. You tried to keep from shaking, the anxiety in you skyrocketing so much that you swore your heart was about to burst from your chest. The moment you got to your couch, Billy held out his hand, his fingers motioning for you to give him something.

“I saw that, Y/N. Hang it up and pass me your phone.” He continued.

You sighed quietly to yourself. Goddammit. Nothing could get past him still. You slowly and reluctantly pulled your phone from your back pocket. Clenching your jaw, you pressed the big red button, ending the call. You stared at the screen for a moment...unwilling to part with the only thing that could connect you to the man who could help you.

“Come on.” He practically sang, a mischievous smile on his face.

You took a deep breath as the screen went dark. You passed your phone to Billy, resisting the urge to cry. You did not know what to expect from Billy...but you knew it most likely wouldn’t end well for you.

“Good girl. Have a seat.”

At this point, you knew that you had to do what he said...just long enough to buy some time to find a way out of this. You sat down, your body tense as you watched Billy drag one of the chairs nearby to sit in front of you.

“I’ve been wondering, since I woke up, why I haven’t seen you...it’s been confusing to me. So answer me this. Why haven’t you come to visit me, Y/N?” Billy asked, his head slightly tilted with a genuine look of curiosity on his face.

Your glance lowered from Billy’s face and down to the floor space between the two of you. You decided to remain silent to prevent you from saying something out of either a place of anger or fear...you didn’t want him to know you were scared. You needed to think about the words that were gonna come out of your mouth.

“I’ve been told it’s been about 7 months, Y/N.” Billy’s voice slightly raised. “That’s a long time to be apart from your fiance.”

“I’m not your fiance.” You countered almost immediately.

“There she is.” His smile came back. “Was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna speak to me again.”

“What do you want from me, Billy?”

“Just some answers.”

“To what?”

“We can start with the basics. Where have you been?”

“You’re kidding me, right? Did you really think I was gonna come back to you after the shit you pulled?”

“What shit?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Billy clenched his jaw, staring at you for a moment before standing in frustration. You slightly flinched at the quickness of his movement. A breath you didn’t realize you were holding came out as Billy paced the room for a moment. He walked over to the window and stared out as the evening was slowly turning to night.

“I-I don’t...I don’t remember.” He told you with confusion laced in his tone.

Surprise filled your entire being at the tone of his voice. He has never sounded like that in the time you were with him. And were...were those tears brimming his eyes? Was he serious? Did he not really remember?

“You don’t remember?” You stated flatly, trying to remain skeptical so that he didn’t pick up on your surprise.

“No...last thing I remember was being with my old unit in Afghanistan and talking to you the night before. Imagine my surprise when my therapist told me that we weren’t together anymore.” He finished his sentence, his gaze finding you once more.

Wait...was Dr. Dumont even allowed to mention that? Like, doctor/patient privilege? You had spoken to her previously because she had offered her services to you once. You had heard Billy was awake. You were standing outside his room, deciding if you wanted to confront him and tell him off because there were plenty you left unsaid after he dropped you off at that hotel. That’s when you met Dr. Krista Dumont. She was on her way in for Billy’s therapy when she talked to you for a little bit and gave you her card. You ended up speaking to her a few times before you had become a patient of hers.

“She’s right, we’re not. So you should go.”

Billy sat back down in the chair, reaching out for your hand. You fought your instincts to pull away because you didn’t know if it would make him mad. Mad would not fair well for you as you still waited for a chance to escape.

“Why aren’t we together anymore, Y/N? What happened to us?” Billy’s voice was calm, gentle...the last time you heard him like that...doesn’t matter. Not anymore.

“Dumont didn’t tell you what you did? She didn’t tell you why there were guards posted at your room at all times of the day?”

“I-I know the charges but not the details.”

“Maybe it’s best that way, Billy.”

Billy dropped your hand as you watched his eyes move from side to side. He was desperately trying to remember. He was distracted enough for you to make a move. You darted up and made a run for your bedroom. Because of him, you still held onto that shotgun in your closet. You made halfway down the hallway before you felt Billy’s arms wrap around you. A scream left you as you fought to get out of his hold but to no avail. He had already picked you up and despite you grabbing onto anything you could, he carried you back to the living room. Billy set you back on your feet, pulling on your arm as you tried to go again; your fight or flight switch still on in your mind.

You fought against his grip as his free hand grabbed your other wrist when you went to push him away. Billy towered over you, almost menacingly.

“Don’t do that again.” Billy warned you, holding you in place. “You won’t like what happens next.”

Your heart was racing what felt like a million miles a minute. Part of you wanted to believe that Billy would never hurt you but the more rational part of you knew exactly what he was capable of. Hell, Billy even taught you how to defend yourself in situations like this but did you really want to test it? Did you really wanna test him?

“Let me go.” You whispered, wincing at the grip on your wrists. “P-please.”

Billy clenched his jaw and let you go.

“Sit.”

You sat back down, your left hand rubbing your right wrist. You needed to reassess your situation. All you had to do was keep it from escalating. You didn’t keep your cool and look what happened.

“Tell me what I did.” He commanded, leaning forward as he sat back down across from you.

“Bill--”

“Tell me, Y/N.

“You got involved in some shady crap. Right out of your last tour. Something called Operation Cerberus.”

Billy perked up at that. What was Operation Cerberus? And how did you know about it?

“W-what was Operation Cerberus?” Billy asked.

“I don’t know the full details because it was classified. But it was what got you in trouble. You see there was testimony given to Homeland Security that incriminated you in dealings that stemmed from that tour. Drugs, gun running...murder. Some evidence was found when they searched our apartment. I gotta give it to you, I lived with you and I had no idea about what you did until they tore apart our home.”

Billy took a moment to soak in what you told him...he---he hid this from you? Why would he even do something like that in the first place? What happened during Operation Cerberus? What changed to make him get involved with something like that?

The sound of your ringtone broke the silence of the room, startling the both of you. Billy pulled your phone out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. A small, quiet chuckle escaped him before he showed you the phone. It was Frank.

“What’s Frankie calling you for?”

“Probably just checking up on me. He’s been doing that since you were arrested.” You told a half truth. Frank had been checking in with you since that night that Billy ended up in the hospital.

“Answer it. Put his mind at ease.”

You glanced down at the phone he held out to you. There was a moment you contemplated on letting it ring, hoping that Frank would see it as something was wrong. But again, would it be a good idea to make Billy mad again? Crap. You sighed and took the phone from Billy, sliding your finger to answer the call.

“Hey, Frank.” You greeted, trying to sound normal.

There was a pause for a moment...maybe you didn’t sound normal enough. If Frank picked up on that, bless him for it.

“Someone there with you?” Frank asked, the volume of his voice lower than normal.

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.” You said, trying not to raise Billy’s suspicion.

“You in trouble?”

“Mm hmm. I’m just tired.”

Your glance fell on Billy, who watched you carefully...honestly, you couldn’t tell if he was buying this one way conversation.

“You at home?”

“Yeah. I think I’m just gonna stay in. I’m sorry, I tried calling earlier to tell you but my phone cut out.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m back in town. Hang in there as long as you can, you hear me?”

“Yeah. I will. Be careful out there. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You hung up your side of the line and gave the phone back to Billy. His eyes remained on you as he pocketed your phone.

“You found a way to warn him, didn’t you?” Billy gave a humorless chuckle.

“I-I didn’t, Bill.” You protested.

“Come on, Y/N. I may be a lot of things but I’m not stupid so don’t treat me like I am.”

“He’s not in New York. Even if I did find a way to warn him, he’d never get here in time.”

“Frankie always had a soft spot for you...but he’d never turn me in. He’s my brother.”

Oh….OH. Billy, you don’t remember.

“But I don’t want to put him in any position to get in trouble. Not when he has his family.”

OH BILLY…You decided against telling him because you didn’t know what it would do to him to know about his betrayal to the Castle family. More or so how angry he might become if he truly didn’t remember.

“Is there anything else? Because I gave you answers and that’s what you said you wanted.” You changed the subject.

“Do you know who did this to me?” He motioned to the scars on his face.

You took a moment to look at each one...really look at them. You knew how much having these affected Billy before and most likely now. You knew how much pride he took in how he looked...and in your opinion, he still looked like the same ol’ Billy Russo.

“No.” You told him.

You slightly shocked yourself at the conviction in your voice. This had to be convincing enough for him to let it go.

“I’m sorry, I don’t.” You added for good measure.

You managed to keep your eyes on him as he measured your response. He was searching them for any trace of deception. Moments that felt like hours passed before he leaned back into the chair with a sigh, running a hand over his face.

“I need to know who did this to me, Y/N.” Billy said, in a very familiar tone.

Billy would use this tired, slightly irritated tone mixed with a sigh when he felt like he was getting nowhere. When he feels like he’s missing something. You would hear it a lot more after he started Anvil. And this tone meant you managed to not get caught in your lie.

“I know you do.” Your voice softened.

Billy looked up at you, surprised to hear your voice change like that after speaking to him with mostly venom. To be honest, you still weren’t sure if you should tell him. This was quite the situation you were stuck in.

There was a banging on your front door startling you both. Billy’s eyes flickered between the door and you.

“I thought you said Frank wasn’t in New York.” Billy grumbled at you, standing up.

“He’s not.” You told him, standing up as well.

“Y/N? Y/N, it’s Madani, open up.” Madani’s voice called from the other side.

“I have to answer it.”

Billy motioned for you to do so, making himself scarce.

“Y/N!” Madani called once more as she banged on your door, the door knob rattling.

You went over to the door and unlocked it, opening it to see Madani and Frank on the other side of the door.

“Madani.” You greeted before you put your finger to your lips, motioning for Frank, at least, to be quiet. Your eyes glanced to your left, letting them know he was still here. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to check in. See if you’ve heard from or seen Russo.” Madani asked, her vision on the left side of your door.

“Nope. Not a word. Yet, anyway.” You played it off as you stood aside.

Frank walked past you, his gun raised and trained ahead of him. Madani walked in after, staying closer to you but ready in case she hears anything to indicate someone else.

“He’s gone.” Frank said when he walked back into the room. “Fire escape.”

You let out the breath you held the moment you opened the door. Thank god...the entire time he was here it was like you were walking on thin ice.

“You okay?” Frank asked you lowly as Madani looked around your apartment.

“Yeah. A little shook up, but I’m good.”

“It’s not safe here anymore. Pack a bag.”

“Way ahead of you.”

#billy russo imagine #billy russo x reader #frank castle x reader #frank castle x reader incoming!#the punisher imagine #billy russo #frank castle

115 notes · View notes

humanized-nonhumans · 4 years ago

Note

8. America + states

8. Group hug (more than two)

h a sorry for taking so long, I had to study and then eat dinner-

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

America stumbled into the dark foyer, trying to be quiet. It was ten in the night, hours later than he planned to be home. He gently set the bag of groceries and trinkets on the floor and kicked off his shoes. He loosened his tie with a swift move and let the suit jacket fall around his arms. He was exhausted, but he wanted to get the little gifts for his kids. They deserved it, after all. They’d been stressed with everything going on.

His head snapped to the stairwell, where there was a creaking sound. Texas and New York emerged, eyes narrowed and hands clutching weapons. Texas had a small shotgun and NY had a machete, their favorite choices. Texas flipped on another dim light and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped short when he saw that it was just America. New York sighed, and gestured for Texas to follow him back upstairs. Texas nodded, and the boys headed up. America’s shoulders slumped as he watched them recede into the shadows of the stairs. They’re probably so pissed right now, he thought miserably, Can’t blame them, I guess.

After organizing the groceries, he quietly picked up the bag of gifts and headed up the stairs, trying to be as silent as possible. It wasn’t unusual for the Thirteen and the other older states to be awake this late, but he didn’t want to disturb them either way. He slipped into his room and closed the doors behind him, sighing in relief when it closed silently. “Really need to get those hinges fixed,” He muttered, tossing his shirt and tie onto the bed. After stripping and taking a shower, he threw on a t-shirt and pajama pants, ready to simply collapse on the bed when a knock came at his door. He heaved a sigh, but brushed away the annoyance. The kiddos probably just wanted a goodnight hug, he reasoned.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was for all of his 50 states to be standing outside of the door. “My sparkling stars, I adore you all, but why are y’all up so late-” He muttered sleepily, only to be cut off by the kids bombarding him with hugs. He stumbled back and laughed, before sitting on the floor and letting them latch onto him. “Y’all missed me huh?”

“Papa, we haven’t seen you the entire day!” Mississippi huffed, claiming a spot on his lap, right next to Alabama.

“Yeah,” California sighed, “The younger ones were getting worried. I told them to calm down but that didn’t work.”

“Because that’s not how you calm down kids, Cali,” Delaware muttered, setting his head on America’s shoulder.

California opened her mouth to retort, but America shook his head. “No fighting. If it makes you guys feel better, I’m taking an off day tomorrow! I can spend the entire day with y’all!”

The states cheered, and pulled themselves closer. The Thirteen chuckled, and pulled away, letting the others embrace their dad.

“You guys get in here too,” Ohio muttered, grabbing South Carolina and pulling her into the piled, “There’s space.”

After another round of protests, they joined as well. They may have acted like they didn’t care, but America knew better.

His loving gaze roved over the chaotic gremlins surrounding him, and his heart swelled with love and pride.

“I love you all so much.”

“We love you too!”

#countryhumans #statehumans #ch america #countryhumans america #ch fic #my writing #I dont wanna tag all of the states so #hope it was worth the wait

19 notes · View notes

sophi-s · 4 years ago

Text

Cost of Kindness

Chapter I: Chance encounter

By: sophi-s

Fandom: Darksiders video games

Words: 6,471

Characters: Original female character (OC), Raphael

Warnings: Graphic description of corpses, blood and injuries, disturbing imagery, swearing

Summary:

Life of a human after the apocalypse is difficult. The world seems to always be against them. Still, they keep on living. But one day something unexpected happens to one of the inhabitants of Haven. A woman named Nicola discovered something... or rather someone... who seemed to be in equally as sorry state as her entire race put together. Nothing was the same ever since. It's curious how one seemingly random event can change everything...

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

Nicola got lost again. All the promises she made to both Ulthane and Jones have gone into trash when with a pang of worry she's suddenly realised she does not know where Haven is. It was supposed to be a short supply run, a little trip to some ruined store in search of food and maybe some medicine if luck wished to be on her side and it turned into a whole day long journey. She hadn't been careful enough and ended up getting spotted. She was too fast for that Trauma to get to her before she disappeared into a narrow alley but she successfully lost her orientation.

Navigating through the city used to be so easy before all this apocalypse nonsense. Nicola knew her way around better than anyone honestly. Now everything looked different. What once was her home now seemed sinister and the animosity could be felt in every, even the tiniest speck of dust. All streets, previously so familiar to her, looked exactly the same, often cut in half by obsidian spikes and pits of boiling magma which made moving around even more troubling. In short words, the entire place was a wreckage. With each moment of aimless wandering, her panic was growing. Inwardly cursing, thinking about all the reprimanding she would get after she somehow finds her way back and the fact that she's most likely going to get grounded forever, she tried to move through the street as quietly as possible, without causing any unnecessary noises. Becoming an evening snack for a pack of Goreclaws or a Trauma wasn't a very attractive fate. The latter could still be around here somewhere and the blood spilling from a cut on her forehead she got when she accidentally ran into a wooden beam protruding from a wall wasn't going to make it harder for it to eventually find her again.. It was very unlikely that the Trauma could've gotten stuck in that alley after it tried to get to her. They are dumb. But not that dumb. Though the mental image alone was quite hilarious now that she thinks about it.. To some extent imagining a Trauma helplessly shuffling to try and unstuck itself from a narrow pathway made her feel a tad better, even crack a little smile. Still, she had to think of something. She'd already lived through too much to just die at this point.

Evening? Clutching a shotgun in her shaking hands, Nicola looks out at the amber sky and her heart hastens when she realises that it really is getting late. The last rays of sun were slowly sinking behind the horizon, slowly turning the sky from warm orange to indigo as the tall buildings bathed the city in deep shadows stretching over the ground like dark omens. Just perfect. There was no other choice for her than to hide somewhere and wait until dawn and resume her search tomorrow, hoping someone will start looking for her. Going anywhere after the dusk was an equivalent of a suicide. Demons and the Wicked tend to be especially active after the nightfall.. Nicola would rather not bump into one of the Suffering either, those things are especially nasty. Hulking, four-armed abominations melded with bodies of the dead, bringing back all those poor souls who weren't lucky enough to get away… she shudders at the thought and hastens her pace.

Most of the houses were already destroyed and usually infested with all kinds of detestable creatures she'd rather avoid - from Wicked, through all kinds of demons and Duskwings, to enormous spiders ready to cocoon any unfortunate passerby for a snack - unfit to be a shelter. But honestly, what wasn't crawling with Hellspawn these days? They were everywhere, as far as the sight can reach. Heaving out a long suffering sigh, Nicola decided to hide underneath the city, hoping she won't find any monsters there.

That was not one of her most brilliant ideas but in truth whatever she chose, it would be just as bad and she hardly cared at this point. Her legs felt as though they went a couple of inches up her arse from all day of walking and running and her empty stomach growled hungrily as she didn't get a chance to stop and eat a sandwich hidden in her backpack. It didn't take long to find a lid of a well leading to the sewers below. Just in case, Nicola dug some new shells out from her backpack and shoved them into her pocket to have easy access to them before pulling the lid out and uncovering a stinking hole in the pavement. The strong "aroma" that drifted out hit her like a brick to the face.

"Ugh.."

Nicola groaned, pinching her nose. Even after the literal armageddon, she still found sewers to be one of the grossest things ever. Like, come on, that's where all the piss and shit goes and a person who enters the sewers for even a minute comes out coated in this stench. Oh well.. It can't be worse than getting torn to shreds by a Goreclaw, can it? Up here was definitely worse than below. Everything she'd met so far - except for Ulthane, Yarin and Elanya - was trying to kill her lately. At least there was no sign of the Big Bad anywhere… Nicola had seen the so-called Destroyer only once and it was enough to last her a lifetime, considering how close she'd been back then. The fact that he didn't spot her, she probably owed the fact that she was somewhere to his right and from what she'd seen his right eye wasn't exactly in good condition. Though, she couldn't deny that the dragon did look sick as Hell - she cringed inwardly at the bad joke her mind produced - and if she wasn't scared shittless and in danger of getting eaten or burned alive, she probably would've taken out her notebook and tried to sketch him. Not often does one see a dragon up this close and Nicola had a habit of drawing anything even remotely interesting she sees. And the more challenging the thing is, the better. In her sketchbook, she already had Ulthane and his younger companions, Vulgrim, some other demons and a Fallen. The last thing she did see pretty damn close. Too close for her liking.

Pulling her stained, dark-blue neckerchief up to her nose as a mostly useless mask against the foul smell, she crouches down and with a loose piece of a brick scratches out a message on the ground, hoping either Jones or some other survivor will find it.

I'M IN THE SEWER

NIKA <3

Just to make it clear, she tears a piece of her already ragged sleeve off and places it under the aforementioned brick next to the message. It's not much but it has to be enough… Without further ado, Nicola slid inside the dark hole and closed the lid above her head. Utter blackness immediately closed around her like a thick coverlet. A quiet sound of dripping, echoing through the tunnel was all that she could hear.

Plip. Plop. Plip. Plop.

Should've thought about taking out a flashlight before cutting off the only source of light.

Grumbling under her breath, Nicola jumped down from a small ladder. But instead of landing on the hard and straight ground, her feet connected with something soft and uneven. With a small yelp, she lost her balance and fell flat onto the actual floor with a wet "Thwack!". Please just be regular water… She begged the puddle underneath her as she scrambled to her feet and pulled the backpack from her shoulders. For a few minutes, she blindly searched through her things, probing for the light source. When her fingers found the flashlight and she turned it on however, she nearly screamed.

That thing she landed on wasn't a mound of garbage like she previously assumed but a body. Body of a dead Phantom General. Its skin was in an unhealthy pallid shade, misty eyes were bulging out of their sockets. And the squishy bit she landed on was its face. Nicola nervously laughs to herself

"Maybe the stench killed him?"

The thought of a large demon dying in a sewer just because it smells bad was kind of amusing and a little comforting. But then she realised that if that was the case, then there's nothing to laugh at. What if there are some poisonous gases in here? Hydrogen sulfide, for example? If it killed a demon, undoubtedly much more hearty, then why shouldn't it do so with a human?

"Shit.. I hope not…"

Nicola curses and immediately presses the neckerchief closer to her face like it would do her any good. Well, no point in wondering about it now. If she were to get poisoned then she probably already was so… Father would be so disappointed if he found out she died in a sewer by inhaling toxic gas. I should've paid more attention to chemistry lessons… Anyway.. Standing here will not make it any better. She might as well find herself a place to rest for a while or forever. Unless healing shards work on that stuff, she had nothing on her to help should she get poisoned. Flinging her backpack over her shoulder, Nicola turns away from the corpse and peers into the dark pathway which opened before her like a gullet of a gargantuan monster waiting to swallow her whole. Having absolutely no idea that this choice would change her miserable life forever, she takes a breath and bravely moves onward.

The Phantom General wasn't the only one. As Nicola walked deeper into the dark, stinking corridor, she noticed more bodies. Goreclaws, Wicked, Phantom Guards, even a couple of Duskwings and - this was the most unsettling discovery - the serpentine Shadowcaster… all of them pale and wizened. An unnerving feeling grew in her stomach. Nicola had seen much death as of late but this… this was horrifying. It was like walking through a tomb or a mass grave. Up close she could see something she hadn't noticed before. Something that made her mouth turn sandpaper. All of the bodies seemed… dried for the lack of a better word. As though something had drained them of their blood, leaving only shriveled husks behind. But there were no wounds, no markings. Nicola gulps at the thought that whatever killed them might still be down here with her.

Backing away, she takes a turn into another section and curls up in a corner by a metal grate blocking the way ahead. Nicola turns the flashlight off and hugs her knees to her chest, trying to control her fearful breathing. Climbing down into the sewers wasn't such a good idea after all. What if… what if there are things far worse down here than the demons she'd already seen? Her parents often scared her with stories of monsters lurking in the dark pipes and winding tunnels when she was a child but those were only supposed to keep her away from the sewers. The true reason was always the toxic miasma drifting through them. Or so she thought as she grew older. Now it seems that the former turned out to be true… And if it murdered a Shadowcaster just like that, then it was a creature to be reckoned with, no doubt.

Whatever it is that hides in here, Nicola didn't want to meet it. Whether it was a classic sewer monster, grotesque, with teeth and tentacles, or something else it didn't matter. Looking down at her left wrist, where her blessedly still working electrical watch with sun batteries was, she squinted at the numbers it showed.

7:48 P.M.

This was going to be a long night… If she survives this, she would get out and return to the Tree, and tell Ulthane she will never leave again. Essentially, she'd ground herself for him. If she could find her way back, that is.. And this might prove rather tricky. Maybe if she could find a Serpent Hole and bribe Vulgrim to take her to Haven, it would be much easier. But then again, she will have to give him something. Aside from her soul, she had nothing he would be interested in and that she could still make use of. Damn it, why is it so cold in here? Pulling the zip of her vest up to her chin, she curls up even more and hides her hands in her pockets to seek any warmth she could find. The stench wasn't even phasing her anymore. Nicola got used to it after the first few minutes. Besides, her fear was what she was mostly focused on. At least she didn't feel anything that would hint at being poisoned.. Whatever deadly stuff was down here before must've dispersed some time after the apocalypse after the disuse of the sewers. And thank God for that..

Meow…

Her head snapped up at the echo coming from the tunnel she backed out from. It was very weak and quiet but she definitely heard something that sounded vaguely like a cat. A very small and very scared cat.

Meow…

There it was again. This time accompanied by a barely visible flash of light coming from the tunnel further down. Cursing her innate curiosity, she pulled herself up to her feet and snuck towards the entrance to her little hidey-hole. The light appeared again before slowly fading. It looked a little like… like someone was coming here with a broken flashlight. Could it… could it be someone from the Tree? Maybe another survivor lost their way in the sewers? Picking up her shotgun, she decides to check it out, the thoughts of a monster not forgotten per se, but definitely pushed to the back of her mind. Wary of every step she makes, she follows the light and the sounds of a distressed animal. Sleep was never an option anyway..

As she walked onwards, the lights were getting brighter, the meowing louder and the pounding of her heart faster. There were more corpses in various states of decay and skeletons strewn about the further she headed but she decided to stay brave. Should anything attack her, she has the shotgun at the ready. Something in her head laughed at her hysterically. How can she be so naive to think that if there's a monster down here her pathetic shotgun can do it much harm? It didn't have a problem with killing all those things. Why would it have a problem with Nicola and her weak human weapon? Besides, even if she did manage to defend herself, one shot from that thing would bring half of the city down on her head. And that was something she definitely wanted to avoid.

Meow!

Another flash. Her surroundings were slowly starting to change. The bodies were left behind and she started to notice wooden crates lying here and there as though someone meant to hide the passage further down. Was this a hide out if some sort? Flash again.

Meow!

And then…

"Hush, little one… I won't let them hurt you again…"

Nicola's heart hastened when a shaky voice reached her. There really was someone down here! However, she doesn't let her ecstasy control her. They don't necessarily have to be friendly. Everyone is permanently scared and paranoid since the apocalypse and if she jumped out from a dark sewer without a warning she's more likely to receive a bullet to the face than a warm welcome. A flash, very bright this time. Before, she didn't notice it but the light was actually… green? Soft, soothing shade of green. Who uses a green flashlight? Someone who didn't have any other. We're in an apocalypse, for God's sake. Shrugging, she sneaks up towards the turn and carefully peeks into the new corridor, unable to take the anticipation any longer. And she freezes.

There were many things Nicola expected to find. Even the sewer monster was higher on her list of possibilities. But not this. Before her, approximately fifteen feet or so, in a makeshift shelter made out of ratty curtains and wooden boxes sat a humanoid figure. They were wearing some sort of metal shoulder pads on their ragged, dark green clothing, worn and stained, once undoubtedly fine knee-high boots, and a tattered and dirty hood. The gilded edges of their pauldrons were smudged and tarnished, as were the clips of the belts on their hips and across their chest. A pair of disheveled, dusted grey, feathery wings was closed around them like two shields protecting their sides and keeping the warmth in the resulting heat cave. Through a gap between the feathers, she noticed strands of long, white hair in the similar state as the wings spilling from under the hood.

This was one of those… those angels who came as the apocalypse began. Only… This one didn't seem like the rest. They didn't look like one of the warriors. And were unarmed at that, she realises once she doesn't catch a sight of any sort of weapon nearby.

Meow!

Nicola heard it clearly now, and trying to track down the source of the sound, her eyes wandered to a hand of the angel, one which they held close to their chest. And there, on their large palm rested a tiny ball of fluff with its fur clogged with blood. The angel was hunched over a wounded kitten, and from time to time they brought up the other hand and gently ran their trembling fingers wrapped in stained bandages over the jagged claw mark along its spine. The green light flared up from angel's fingertips as gradually the wound was stitching itself. A sorcerer then. If meeting Shadowcasters was any indicator, then it would be better not to mess with this one.

Meow!

The kitten cried again and the angel, now she was pretty sure it was a male, spoke with a soft and calming, but shaking voice that reached to the depth of her soul.

"Fret not… it will be over. Soon enough."

In honesty, Nicola really had to stop herself from making a loud "awww" noise as she watched this angel treat a tiny injured kitten. How did he get here in the first place? Shouldn't he be with the rest of his buddies? She honestly never thought one of them would ever fall so low as to hide in a sewer of all places. Unless there was no other option. He must've gotten lost or something.. She thinks, almost snickering at how similar to hers this situation was.

To make no mistake, she didn't want to approach the angel, especially after what she'd seen during the apocalypse - most of them didn't give two shits about what happen to her race - and so Nicola decided, even if slightly disappointed that it wasn't another human survivor or someone looking for her like she previously assumed, to go away and leave him be with his kitten. The angels the apocalypse has shown to her were hardly the kind and thoroughly good creatures the image of she grew up with.. But then, nature decided to play a cruel prank on her and a horrifyingly loud sound of her stomach rumbling was carried over the immediate vicinity.

Nicola cursed inwardly at her stupid stomach - really, she would've eaten that sandwich but the smell of the server was very unappetizing - when the angel quickly looked up before gently placing the cat down on a piece of folded cloth and snapping his fingers to produce a small wisp of normal, white light. Now, his face wasn't obscured by the shadow of his hood. It was just like a face of a human, especially with all the grime smeared over it, just more… how to describe it? Features were more apparent, simultaneously sharp and smooth. Like those of a sculpture. Almost overly perfect. However, he looked ill, emaciated with his cheeks collapsed like this and sunken eyes, seemingly too large for his head. His eyes… brilliant white with faint silvery pupils, glowing like two wisps, opened wide in an absolutely blank, emotionless stare, not unlike that of a man in feverish delirium. How long had he been down here?

"Who.. who's there..?"

His lips barely moved as he spoke, his wide eyes darted around in panic as he searched for intruders. Not that she could blame him. Her stomach sounded like a starving demon and as far as she's concerned, his kind isn't really fond of those.. The angel looked a little like a terrified, wounded animal that had been cornered by predators with no apparent way out. It was… sad somehow. Since she'd already been heard, Nicola carefully stepped out of her hiding spot. The reaction she got however, was far different from what she's been expecting. The angel gasped, his wings shot up like two enormous flags as he lifted his hands. Green magic crackled along his slender fingers with most of the nails broken and bloodied as she froze where she stood.

"G- get away! Back off, foul creature!"

He stuttered but didn't attack just yet. Swallowing a lump of fear Nicola forced herself to very, very slowly and carefully take a few steps closer to enter the illuminated area around the scared angel to make him realise this is a misunderstanding and she means no harm. She even left her gun on the floor not to make him feel threatened and kept her hands up, palms forward where he could see them. He squinted but this hollow look in his eyes remained. Disturbing… Even more so when he started to mutter nervously to himself, rubbing his eyebrows with his thumb.

"No… not a demon, nor an angel, a human perhaps…? Yes, yes… has to be… But that's not possible.. They're… they're all gone. Dead, killed, stone dead… Who is this and what do you want? Your tricks won't work on me.."

"I- I'm not trying to trick you, I swear! I am a human. I'm Nicola.."

She assures the angel, hoping that giving him her name will make him feel a little less threatened. A quiet sigh of relief slipped past Nicola's lips when the magic in his hands faded as he curiously - a little like a small, inquisitive puppy - tilted his head to the left.

"Nic… ola…"

He breathed, mulling over her name, testing it on his tongue but his wings still remained aggressively flared above his head. The kitten meowed again, too weak to stand up from the bedding the angel made for it. He seemed to calm down a bit as he glanced down at it and with a flick of his finger made the animal lazily blink before it curled into a ball and immediately fell asleep. The wound on its back wasn't so large anymore and it wasn't bleeding so the black fluff with white feet and collar wasn't in any immediate danger. Angel's attention shifted back to her. But Nicola was the first one to speak.

"Who are you? How'd you get down here?

"Don't know… Human… a human. How did you get in my study? You really shouldn't be here. What is it you want from me? I'm working on improving my shards…"

"I-... Wait, your what ?"

Nicola's face scrunched up in confusion. Get in where? Working on improving his what??

"No, this isn't right… they need more energy…"

At this point she had absolutely no idea what the angel was rambling on about but she could clearly see he was completely out of his mind. Frankly speaking, she wasn't actually sure if he knows what he's babbling either.. There was only one thing that came to her mind when he spoke of shards and so she dug into her pocket, trying to find the one she'd been carrying with her just in case as he clutched at his head, tangling his fingers into his hair under his hood…

"It worked… I did it, I can… but it hurts… Creator, how it hurts… Cold.. so cold…"

His voice was starting to break as his unsteady breathing turned into something akin to sobbing but no tears were shed and he started to rock back and forth, still muttering something unintelligible. Something in Nicola's gut squirmed - or maybe it was the hunger again - as she looked at the scrawny angel mercifully. Whatever happened to him, it must've been horrible. It takes a very traumatic experience to bring a human to such a state but an angel is a different story. Seeing anyone like this saddened her. Finally, her fingers found what they were searching for and she extracted a small healing shard from her vest.

"You mean like…"

At the gentle, green glow the shard was emitting, the angel looked up astonished and let his mouth fall open. He stopped shaking and grasping his head.

"Yes… yes, my shard. I need… My blade. Where's my blade? Who…? My name? My name… I remember, I swear."

This talk of a blade was mildly unsettling to say the least but something in her chest twisted with pity and all fear left her. A little more bravely, Nicola approached the murmuring angel who attempted to scratch something out on the floor beside his knee but only successfully broke one of his nails again and hissed quietly. What happened to you, you poor thing? When she crouched next to him, he stared at her as though he'd seen a ghost when she realised he isn't looking into her eyes anymore. But at her forehead.

"You're… injured…"

He stated as matter of factly. Oh. Right. That was true. It barely hurt anymore though… and wasn't even bleeding. She's certainly had much worse. It will heal on its own in no time.

"Let me just-"

Suddenly he leaned forward to grab at her, making her heart leap up to her throat as she cried out in fear and jumped away from him. Instinctively, Nicola booked it for the tunnel she came from when she heard a heavy thud and a pained groan behind her.. It was her good hearted nature what ultimately made her stop in her tracks and look over her shoulder. To see the angel on the floor, weakly propping himself on his elbows and breathing heavily. He was very weakened. It's unclear how long he'd been down here but it certainly has taken its toll. Nicola looked out into the dark tunnel. Whatever awaited her in this darkness and out in the city surely isn't nicer than this poor sod behind her. She wasn't even sure if he actually meant to hurt her or not. It was a reflex. Then she turned to look back at the angel shivering on the wet floor.. Her throat tightened. God, she couldn't just leave it like this, could she?

"H- hey… are- are you okay?"

Nicola approaches the angel warily and squats before him as he lifts his head to look at her. And in his eyes she sees pain. Horrible, unimaginable pain, somewhere deep within, that made his crusted lips tremble. Such a sight would be enough to break even the coldest hearts. And definitely more than enough to break hers. He eyes her hands when she hesitantly takes him by the arm - careful when she notices a rag stained with fresh blood above his left elbow - and tries to pull him up to his feet or at least to a sitting position but he doesn't recoil. He simply kept staring at her hands in bewilderment. To her surprise, he was much lighter than he looked, probably because of how thin he was, and she managed to do what she intended but she could see that his legs won't uphold his weight as meager as it is. The angel glanced at the cut on her head and once again, albeit far more cautiously, reached out towards it.

"I can… I can heal it. Just hold still.. It will take a second.."

And in spite of herself, Nicola gives him a chance this time. He extended two fingers and as their tips started to glow with green, he gently tapped against her damaged skin. It felt… odd. It wasn't painful but still strange. The edges of the wound grew numb and prickly as the patch of comforting warmth fell over her forehead. And what was even odder, the angel smiled slightly, whispering

"There… It is done.. I.. remember. Was it…? It was, wasn't it… Raphael?"

"Wh- what? What are you talking about, who's Raphael?"

Nicola asks, probing the new, thin scar that was now formed in place of the cut. He really did heal her. Curious. And it did take a second.. For a moment, his face scrunched up in confusion but only for this second before he brightened and some of the strange mist fell from his white eyes as he brought both of his hands up and repeatedly poked his chest with all of his fingers.

"Me.. Raphael is… it's me! And you…"

He extended one finger and aimed it at her head.

"You are Nicola. "

"Y- yeah. Nice to meet you, I guess…"

She hesitantly replies as the circumstances of this meeting weren't exactly "nice". In a dark, damp sewer filled with stench and corpses with a possible monster lurking nearby? Far from nice if someone would ask her.

"What.. huh. What is this place?"

Raphael unexpectedly asked, looking around with his large, white eyes, blinking in confusion. Nicola pulls a face, unsure how to tackle the odd angel.

"You… don't know? You've been living here."

"Have I? Hmmm.. Strange…"

He murmured thoughtfully, scratching at his white goatee also painted with blood that surely spilled from the cut on his lower lip. Then his face shifted into concern as he tried to pull himself up with a strained grunt, clutching at an old, but not healed yet, gash over his ribs.

"I… I have to get back.. they need me in the White City…"

As she was expecting, he collapsed back onto the floor with a tired sigh not even a second later. Where and what was the "White City" he spoke of, she had no idea. What she did know however, was that in his condition Raphael isn't going anywhere. Even if he managed to get up, she could bet her right hand that he would make ten steps at most before collapsing again. Nicola winces and tilts her head to the side.

"Pal, I don't think you're in shape for walking or flying right now.."

"No, I suppose not… they cannot see me like this. I cannot return.."

At this point she wasn't surprised that Raphael kept muttering to himself about things her human brain couldn't hope to comprehend. Nicola got long used to this however. Ever since the armageddon there were very few things she could understand. It wasn't a normal day if something new and weird didn't happen to her or one of her remaining friends. Any hostility the angel showed before has faded now, his wings folded back around him as he leaned over the sleeping kitten to continue treating it. The gentleness he did it with, the uncertain smile on his face were making Nicola's heart melt. Raphael didn't seem like his friends indeed. He was different somehow. Kinder, softer. Less aggressive. More fitting the image of a stereotypical angel. But also definitely not quite… right. Up in the head.

Oh, well. Who is totally normal these days, honestly?

She wants to chuckle to herself when something gives her a pause. A horrifyingly familiar sound coming from the tunnel behind her. Panting, scraping and growling. Inevitably getting closer and closer. Her heart plummets to her heels. This sound… she would recognise it everywhere. The sound that haunted her dreams ever since the demon tore her twin brother, Nicholas, to shreds. This demon.. a Goreclaw, as Ulthane called it. Whipping around, she just managed to spot the quadrupedal monster - the size of your average Caucasian Shepherd (which was still awfully large for its kind), with long, lashing tail and sharp fangs constantly bared in a disturbing grin - appear in the entrance, cutting off the only escape route.

It must've heard Nicola's startled scream and followed it all the way here, hoping for an easy prey. Her breath caught in her throat as she stands paralyzed by the blood-hungry glare of multiple red eyes. This ugly mug, covered in blood of her sibling was still fresh in her mind, keeping her absolutely petrified. Unable to do anything, she kicks herself for leaving her shotgun behind. Now it was resting between the clawed paws of the demon who screeched in excitement as it prepared to pounce at her. Though honestly, with how rigid her body turned, she doubts she'd be able to aim, not to mention pulling the trigger.

This is it. She thinks, feeling blood leave her face. I'm gonna die. After all she's been through.. Killed by a single Goreclaw, ripped apart in a stinking sewer like an ungrateful little shite. Ulthane did so much to rescue her from the claws of that Fallen and now all his efforts are going to go to waste.. Crying out in dismay, she shields herself from the oncoming attack with her arms and shuts her eyes.

Something shifted behind her as the demon jumped at her and… nothing happened. Opening her eyes, horrified and shocked, Nicola almost gags when she sees the Goreclaw standing before her and just… gawking with its jaw slack as though it got hit on the head with something heavy. Faint golden light running around its body like tiny veins didn't escape her attention. That's when she noticed that the demon was trying to move, straining with its own stiff muscles and growling. But couldn't. It was completely paralyzed. A quiet, barely audible thrumming filled the air around Nicola and she began to feel something strange. Something she could only describe as magic. The arcane static began to nip and the bite at her skin like miniscule locusts when a green haze enveloped the Goreclaw before her. The same light fell onto her back, laying her quivering shadow out at her feet. A realisation hit her.

Raphael. He's still there.

After the apocalypse, Nicola had no delusions that angels, even the kindest ones, are ever defenseless. Before she could turn to face the angel, her would-be killer suddenly let out a soul-rending shriek that yet again almost made her drop dead or simply puke out of pure fear. Freed from the paralysis, it fell to the floor, writhing, clawing at its own chest and screeching the most ungodly noise Nicola had ever heard. What's happening?! Absolutely petrified, she watched as the demon's skin seemed to dry and wrinkle as its eyes were nearly popping out of its skull. Life - and color - was frighteningly quickly seeping out of the demon as it squirmed in agony, wailing, unable to fight the power that got a hold of it.

All this looked like taken straight out of a horror movie. And Nicola, on the contrary to Nicholas, was never a fan of those… It all took merely a few seconds of unimaginable torment before the unfortunate Goreclaw wheezed and eventually fell still with its jaws opened and tongue lolled out, wide eyes dull and unblinking, and didn't move ever again. Dead. The memory of all those corpses she has found passed through her head. The Goreclaw looked just like them… Afraid to move a muscle, she stared at the light that moved away from the dead demon, following its movement to the sight that made her back up aghast.

Raphael. The same seemingly gentle angel who healed a small, hurt animal - who healed her - was suspended in midair, tattered robes and disheveled hair billowing, with his wings flared and bristled. This soft smile was replaced by an absolute lack of any expression whatsoever as his wide eyes burned with the whitest white of unbridled anger she'd ever seen. Green streaks of magic - the same green she found so soothing before, now ominous and frightening - bathing the surroundings in brightness, were swirling around his arms, hands with fingers curled into vicious claws. For this moment he looked much stronger, a little younger… and far more dangerous than he seemed before.

"As long as I live.. I shall not stand suffering !"

Raphael bellowed at the corpse at her feet even though it was long dead and already turning cold, caring very little about how horrified she was. He didn't even seem to care how much suffering the demon had experienced before it blessedly lost its hold on life. Not that Nicola thought it didn't deserve that but still it was… pretty gruesome.. Raphael's wounded and weakened body absorbed the life-force drained from the demon and only then did he slowly descend onto the floor and landed on his feet, breathing out with relief. The magic gradually dissipated along with the sharp prickling sensation until only the tiny golden wisp hovering next to Raphael's head remained. His wings fell into their place against his back, this furious light faded out of his bright eyes before he turned to Nicola to shoot her a disarming, awkward smile as though nothing had happened at all. This tiny smile was hardly comforting.. Quite the opposite in fact. It chilled her to the bone like the coldest winter wind.

Oh fuck.

Swallowing thickly, Nicola looked up at Raphael, now standing on his own legs, clearly revitalized by the stolen energy, and felt a little fearful tear roll down her face. Then she shifted her gaze to the demon. Then back to Raphael, who seemed so small and weak before but stood at least two, maybe three feet taller than Nicola - her head reached the bottom of his sternum. I was wrong. She realises with a pang of panic, feeling a little sick in the stomach at the mere thought that this kind healer was as capable of killing her where she stood as any demon up above her head. All he had to do was flick his wrist and look at her and she wouldn't have been able to do a thing to defend herself. It suddenly made sense. There was no sewer monster down here. No beast that would threaten her. No foul creature that could suck the blood from her body and leave ber as a mummified corpse. All this death, all these bodies… The horrifying monster Nicola was expecting to find...

It was him.

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

So yeah. That was the chapter I. I'll try to make more but I don't promise anything XD

The moral of this story? Don't piss off/spook angel sorcerers. Especially the crazy ones.

Also, the art at the end was once again inspired by @coloredgravity 's rendition of Raphael (I drew this mostly out of memory 😂). In addition I gave him a symbol of virtue from Darkest Dungeon over his head. He's mad, true. But he still tries to hold it together :3

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #my fic #fan fiction #darksiders oc #nicola #darksiders raphael #raphael #my art #fan art #I suck at summarizing XD #Cost of Kindness #CoK

21 notes · View notes

believerindaydreams · 4 years ago

Text

It's Saturday night, I'll write some Colonel Autumn being a dick to Arcade fanfic if I wanna

Autumn

Defending Paradise Falls. Ha.

Up to now the arrangement has been going smoothly enough- the Enclave lets their activities slide, even pays half again what Ashur would for a first pick at quality captives. Given the alternative of being sent north to the Pitt, most people are only too happy to be taken to the shelter of Raven Rock.

Part of the bargain, though, was to save them if anyone should break through the defences- and so that's what you and your men are doing here, responding to Eulogy's urgent plea. Standing at the gate of a settlement wreathed in flame.

"Sir," one of the men says. "Shouldn't we be assisting?"

You watch the slavers, firing for their lives; and the flag of the Temple of the Union waving above Hannibal Hamlin's incinerator squad. A sense of overweening disgust takes you.

"Let them wipe each other out. We'll move in when it's over."

They wouldn't trust the assessment from anyone else; but you're Colonel Autumn, darling of the Enclave, and your word is iron law.

So they hold fire until the battlefield is only a cemetery, bodies of slavers and slaves scattered, and then you nod and they move in. Plenty of flame here to cleanse the corpses, scour this place for keeps.

Ashur will be displeased; well, let him be. It doesn't do to let any one faction in the Wasteland grow too powerful, and there's still too much risk of him rejoining his former allegiance. A Brotherhood with the Pitt's resources at its command could break the Capitol balance of power.

And as for Hannibal...well. President Eden doesn't care for non Enclave heroes.

So he's a particular priority to locate; and when your men report him in the clinic, defended by an Enclave Eyebot of all things, you raise an eyebrow and follow.

They aren't joking. Half its metal fronds are gone, it bobs up and down in a faltering pattern, but it's still functioning somehow. Impressive. They usually explode after the slightest tap-

wait, is this one of those Duraframe models? Damnit, this should have been scrapped already.

It does its best to zap anyone who goes near it; and any of your men could down it at need but they're all holding back, perplexed and disturbed. No one's ever hacked an Eyebot like this before.

There might be a good explanation, of course.

You nod at the Eyebot, draw your gun and place it down again. In its place, you hold out a super stimpak. It beeps, twice, and when you move forward it allows you.

Hannibal is alive, if barely; a medkit will keep him that way for now. The others- a mix of silver Temple armor and those new-fangled Follower coats- aren't wounded quite so badly, you can afford the resources to patch them up.

Somewhere around the second bottle of purified water wasted on someone who might not even be good Enclave material, you realise that you've slipped back into character, Lone Wanderer instead of colonel, and that's a foolish thing to do with your men watching in silence. They shouldn't watch their leader showing softness, or aimlessly pocketing ammo like a common prospector. Maybe it's been too long since you've travelled with Boone.

"I will fight you," Hannibal mumbles, training a lever-action rifle on you.

It has been too long. Taking this sort of risk doesn't befit this uniform. "I'm not trying to kill anyone. Shut up and let the Enclave save you people."

He lets the gun drop, but maintains a hard stare. "I never heard that your men ever left your Vertibirds."

You lean in close. "I stole this colonel's uniform so these folks wouldn't shoot me. They don't know I'm the Lone Wanderer."

His pained face eases into a smile. "That isn't a title to be claimed lightly."

"Believe me, I don't."

He chuckles, accepts the vodka you offer him. "I remember forging a claim just that mad and making it stick...all right then, Colonel. How about the slavers, any of them make it out?"

"No. We made sure."

"Good...Arcade? Arcade, we did it. We're still alive, and it's thanks to your medic skills."

The Follower he's attempting to wake groans, covers filthy glasses with the sleeve of an even dirtier coat. "Take two stims and call me in the morning. I'm done in."

One of the others is waking now, a short woman who was still clutching her shotgun when she passed out. "Hannibal? Arcade? You feel as good as I do?"

"Just about," Hannibal says warmly. "And I'm very proud of you."

She snorts at him. "Enough soft soap. I only helped murder, oh, every slaver in Paradise Falls."

None of your men would talk back to you like that.

For a moment, you wish they might.

*****

Arcade

Well. This is good and bad.

It's good, because the last time he was conscious had left him fairly sure it would be the last. The trip here was meant to be recon, not a full-fledged battle; Hannibal's insistence on always being prepared is all that had saved them. Well, and his own battlefield skills, which have improved of necessity on this coast. And Simone carrying so many guns that everyone in the pen could take one.

And the small Eyebot that's been their secret weapon, going in for the kill in tight spots. He's sure it made the difference between their life and death at the last, when Eulogy and his minions were taking them on personally.

And considering that, thinking of blowing up ED-E seems hugely ungrateful.

He repacks his depleted doctor's bag, feels the heavy weight of the detonator in his pocket. One quick movement and it would be over. Nothing to tie him to a piece of technology that he had no business dealing with in the first place.

An Eyebot bound for Navarro, never even making it out of the Wasteland; and if it reached its goal it would find nothing but dust.

Arcade raises the detonator unobtrusively, looks at the Eyebot. An Enclave scientist is trying to mend it, cursing under his breath as it beeps cheekily, bobbing up and down.

He sighs and doesn't fire, walks back into the clinic to meet Hannibal, who's beaming with pleasure.

"All well then?"

"Frankly, I could have done without the Enclave swooping in to loot everything. Simone's giving me plenty of lip for that. But we've found a few more survivors and the Colonel's men are helping out." His voice softens. "And Paradise Falls is broken forever. We can go back to the Memorial and be at peace, now."

"Actually, Arcade Gannon will be coming with us."

Arcade jumps- not least because he hadn't heard the colonel's footsteps. "Sorry?"

"Can I speak bluntly to you two?" Autumn asks, in an undertone.

"Shoot," Hannibal says, evenly. "Because he seems taken aback by this."

"See, it's like this...my men checked the records, they say he's a deserter. That means either him or his head. I'd rather it be him, you know?"

The soft drawl is attractive, but not enough to distract him from the content. "That's a- a mistake?"

"We have good records," Autumn says, looking apologetic. "And the Eyebot...the Eyebot was a give-away, you know. They wanted to know who did that. And more than that..." His voice lowers. "I need help. Badly. We're supposed to go back to Raven Rock today, and I don't even know where the damn place is."

Arcade looks around to see if any Enclave soldiers are here to witness this remarkable statement. They aren't.

"You get into some funny situations when you're the Lone Wanderer."

"Oh! Boone's friend!"

"...you know him?"

Arcade gulps down an incriminating statement. "Yeah. He shows up at the Followers tent for help with his addictions, he has a weakness for Steady. And moonshine. I tell him to cut back and he never does."

"Sounds familiar," Autumn says dryly. "My vice is vodka- he talks about me? Because I've met more talkative Deathclaws."

"Ooh...um, not that much. But apparently you pay well and you don't sleep enough."

"True enough...and look, I'll be honest with you. This scares me. An in to Raven Rock is the biggest thing I've ever been caught up in, and in twenty minutes I have to head there with no backup. Maybe you could come along?"

"If you're unwilling to go back," Hannibal says, squaring his shoulders. "We'll help you. I don't approve of people being held under duress."

"But I could do so much good by finding out how they tick," Autumn says quietly. "Even if it kills me."

"It will kill you," Arcade blurts out. "You don't know what you're doing here."

The door swings open, a soldier marches in and salutes. "Sir. The Vertibird is warming up."

"You don't have to go," Hannibal says, loading his gun; and Arcade knows that's meant for both of them.

"Duty calls," Autumn says.

And his solemn tone decides Arcade like no rational argument could; a man walking into hell of his own accord with no idea how to get out. Because he's trying to save the Wasteland, because there's no one here to help.

And it isn't even Autumn's responsibility, or heritage, or guilt.

Arcade steps in front of him. "I'm convinced. I'll come back to the Enclave."

It's the thing he's been running from all his life; and he won't let an innocent walk into it alone.

"And the test came back on this, sir. Scientists say it won't explode, but they can't quite figure what it does."

Autumn takes the weapon, gingerly pockets it. "We'll let them loose on it at base."

"Tell the Followers," Arcade starts, and stops. "Tell them I'm dead."

Boone would understand, feeling like destiny has caught up. He won't have the others trapped too.

"I'll honour that," Hannibal agrees. "Godspeed, Follower."

If it's the last time anyone will call him that, there isn't a better man to say it.

That's the last thought he has, as they go outside and start for the Vertibird; because Colonel Autumn doesn't take a chance and shoots him in the back.

The Eyebot that witnesses the act goes down next.

#who am i writing this series for at this point #just me i think

6 notes · View notes

jq37 · 4 years ago

Text

The Royal Report– A Crown of Candy Ep 7 Escape From the Bulb Creeps

Journey to the Past

We are fresh on the heels of the deaths of both Lapin and Peppermint Preston (Reeces in Pieces) but there’s no time to mourn because the remaining 5 PCs (Zac is absent all episode) are all fugitives of both church and state. With everyone stunned and out of sorts, Jet takes the lead and begins running towards the alleyway she banished Thad to several episodes ago on a goof turned escape plan. And none of the adults have a better plan so they follow her without argument or question. Ruby sends Yak up to help scout and, as they’re running, each of the group have flashbacks to simpler times:

Ruby: Ruby sees herself practicing acrobatics on the castle walls having just seen the Swirler Sisters perform. Her mom makes her come down and scolds her for not taking her princess duties seriously. Royal life is hard enough without her making it harder with her flights of fancy and she should be training to be ready for it.

Amethar: Amethar sees himself at the Stone Candy Mountain mid-war with his four sisters who have just got the news that he married Katherine Ghee--his dairy wife we learned about 2 eps ago. His oldest sister--General Rococoa--is livid about the shortsightedness and political implications of him marrying a commoner. St. Citrina, the third sister, comforts Amethar and says that if he really loves her, the marriage should stand. The youngest sister, Princess Sapphria, is chill about the whole thing and thinks (1) it won’t matter since he’s so far down in the line of succession and (2) he should have a good time if he wants to. Something ~crazy~ would have to happen for Amethar to ever get the throne so it would be *stupid* to waste time worrying about. (Thousand yard stare.) Lazuli shows up and is very fuzzy on where in the timeline they are--showing her background as a divination wizard--before congratulating Amethar on his marriage. Rococoa wants the marriage annulled and Citrina says that, for that to happen, Amethar and Katherine would need to be in the same place with the priest who performed the ceremony--Father Belford. They can take care of it after the war if Amethar wants. In the meantime, they tell their dad *nothing*.

Liam: It’s Liam’s 14th b-day and he’s still living with his dad (Joren Jawbreaker) and his mom (Spearia Mentha--a cool Vegetanian hippie woman) and his 35 other moms and dads (polygamy is big in the Sweetening Path apparently). His dad shows up and has trouble remembering his name but does present him Preston as a pet which he’s pretty stoked about. Afterwards, he meets up with his mom who says that his entire extended family talked about his going to Castle Candy as a ward/political prisoner and have decided that he can, but that he should be careful. The outside world isn’t as accepting of other spirits and ideas. Back in the present, Liam feels something dark inside him grow with the loss of Preston. Ice creeps up on his crossbow and his magic changes (mechanically speaking, he has gone from a Beastmaster to a Gloomstalker Ranger).

Theo: It’s Theo’s first day on the job as Lazuli’s ward and, after getting some business done (including a short conversation with a cotton candy monk who seemed suspiciously fleshed out to just be a random NPC) she turns to him and asks his opinion on non-sanctioned magic. Theo (who insists on addressing her by all of her titles) says that magic has never been his thing. He doesn’t have the mind for it. Lazuli takes issue with that assertion and Theo is forced to consider that he might be limiting himself for no reason. Lazuli says that she’s realizing that magic is a lot bigger and unknowable than conventional wisdom suggests and then Theo runs off to fetch her more parchment.

Jet: Jet is 14 and practicing fencing with Calroy. He gets the point with a fencing dagger (which is apparently a thing, confirmed by my one friend who fences) before they ease into a conversation about politics. Calroy asks her if she sees herself challenging convention and we all know Who Jet Is As a Person so her answer (big yes) isn’t surprising. What’s slightly more surprising is that Calroy candidly agrees with her that change is good and needed. A lot of people would love change but most of them aren’t situated in such a way that they have the power to bring about any. Calroy says he looks forward to her reign and they continue sparring.

Back to Reality

In the present, church bells toll behind them and Ruby feels a piece of paper fly out from her pocket--it’s the “For Candia” note from Lapin. She grabs it with her Mage Hand and just feels like the worst person on the planet for being mean to Lapin all these years and then watching him give his life for them. He presented as boring and lame but he was a good man.

They all reach the delirious Thad (he’s been in this alley since episode 3) who Jet flirts with to try and get his carriage but Liam circumvents that by getting a Nat 20 to fully knock the dude out. The servants with him flip out but Jet threatens them into running away and, before they can get very far, Ruby casts Sleep on them which drops them. Then, she casts Disguise Self and Prestidigitation so she looks and smells like Thad (we’re also blessed by Siobhan’s ridiculous French accent) and goes out to Thad’s carriage with Jet on her arm, lying to the servants there that Jet has been knocked up and they have to have a shotgun wedding. Her deception check succeeds and the footman declares, “To the cathedral!” NO. Beach wedding! It’s a beach wedding! They all pile into the back of the carriage--Ruby up front since she’s pretending to be Thad--and head out.

While they ride, Liam unsuccessfully tries to cry quietly and Theo eulogizes Lapin and says that what happened to him was no one’s fault. Jet asks Amethar if he had a death wish back in the Cathedral and Amethar, not in so many words, admits that he did. Yak comes back down from scouting and relays that the Glucian Road (the way back to Candia that they came) is about to be absolutely crawling with imperial soldiers. And cutting through Fructerra to the north (the shortest route) is also bad because that’s Plumbeline’s territory and she’s already proven herself untrustworthy. That leaves the “safest” options Brightgarden (basically the Vatican City of this world so not really a place they wanna be right now) and towards the Harbor.

Everyone takes another minute to have a full breakdown--especially Liam who is coming to terms with the fact that he’s gonna have to be a war guy now--and Brennan rolls death saves for Thad (he lives) before they get back to business. If they want to go to the Great Stone Candy Mountain (Where Joren Jawbreaker is), going by sea is faster. Ruby points out that they’ll have to go into the territory of Cordeau (aka, Lord Bleu--the suspicious cheese dude Primsy is lowkey courting) if they go by sea but Theo points out that they’re F’d no matter where they go so they lock in the plan.

A Fun Boat Ride

Once they get to the docks, Brennan points out that none of them have sailing proficiency (Emily: I have tarot cards) so if they just grab a ship with no crew, they’re for sure gonna die. They’d previously asked Calroy to ready a ship for them but they have no idea if that happened and they don’t have a way to ask him. The only ship they recognize in the harbor is The Colby--Annabelle’s ship. And, what do you know? She’s on the ship at that very moment, officiating a wedding for Primsy and Lord Bleu. The dude works fast.

Theo sees that they’re casting off soon and also that Morris Brie is walking around all agitated and worried--looking for Manta Ray Jack they guess. Liam casts Pass Without Trace and Amethar gets a Nat 20 to open one of the cargo crates they’re going to load onto the ship so they can hide inside (leaving Yak and Sprinkle outside to be their eyes). While they’re in there, they hear Primsy and Bleu talking and learn that he’s gonna be following behind in his own ship (since he’s captain) and they’ll meet back in Lacramor. We also learn later that his ship is called the Dairy Heir because Brennan was put on this earth to test me.

Ruby hears that Morris Brie is still walking around all worried and decides to Message him in Lacra. “Manta Ray is Captured. The House of Rocks has Fallen. All is Lost. Help.” She calls herself a friend and, on a 20 Persuasion, Brie thinks she’s a spirit. She tells him where Jack is and calls him a good man when he agrees to check.

Brennan rolls for an unspecified thing in front of the board--saying they need an 11 or higher and want a 15--and gets a 12.

The ship is held for a while, long enough that they’re loaded into the cargo hold, and Brennan narrates everything that happens from the eyes of Yak and Sprinkle (bending the rules a bit so everyone gets the benefit of knowing how Ruby’s clutch move played out):

Annabelle is agitated, waiting for Brie and Manta Ray so they can ship off. A messenger comes to her with the information that the Emperor is dead, Candia is at war with the Concord, and Amethar has been excommunicated. Primsy, who is technically in charge, reacts exactly how any sane 16 y/o would--she has absolutely no idea what to do. Another messenger shows up with a bloody letter (and, sidenote, I need Brennan to stop cursing us with detailed info on how various food people bleed. It’s extremely unsettling) from Brie which she reads and before deciding to ship off immediately.

The Candians decide to stay hidden for an hour which is good because 30 mins later, the ship is stopped and boarded by imperials (lead by Grissini). They check the barrels but not the crates because no one would be able to open them. Well, no one except Amethar on a Nat 20. They’re not found and the imperials leave.

After the hour is up, Ruby can see through Yak that there aren’t any ships except for the dairy ones escorting Primsy back home and there are only about 12 people on the Colby. There’s a long discussion about the best strategy--Should they go up or call someone down? Should they talk to Primsy or Annabelle? Should Jet volunteer as a hostage?--before Ruby makes an executive decision and decides to Message Primsy.

“Primsy, I invoke the friendship of House Rocks and House Lacra.”

On a 20 persuasion check, Primsy, like Brie, thinks she’s a fairy or a spirit, which she is childishly excited about. Ruby says that if she comes to the hold, she’ll show her a secret and Primsy, who has apparently never seen a horror movie before in her life, comes right down. To her credit, she does ask if she can bring Annabelle, but Ruby says no. But that doesn’t deter her. Once she’s down there, Theo, who also has the Message cantrip, says, “Don’t scream, no matter what you see,” which is absolutely the worst thing he could have said and, on a 3 Persuasion--plus Amethar bursting out of the crate to try to show her she’s among friends, Primsy has the correct reaction which is to scream bloody murder, calling down basically everyone, including Annabelle.

Everyone throws down their weapons (Jet just stows hers in her back pockets) and Liam tries to hide but gets a Nat 1. Annabelle is, of course, furious that they’d stow away while fugitives, endangering them all but Ruby is able to slightly charm her (non-magically) and she reveals that the letter she received before says that Brie rescued Manta Ray and they’re hiding in Comida. Ruby is relieved her plan worked and, when Annabelle scoffs at her for taking credit for the work of the spirits, hits her with a Message to prove her abilities. Annabelle seems taken aback that, even while wanted fugitives of basically the entire world, Ruby would take any of her precious time to help Manta Ray. “[He’s] a good man,” Ruby responds, as if the decision took no thought at all. Primsy comforts Liam as he breaks down over the loss of Lapin and Preston again.

Brennan has everyone do a group persuasion check where only one of them cracks a 15. Annabelle and Co. are really in a terrible position here. These are their allies but they’re also being hunted right now and the Dairy Islands really cannot afford to be at war with the Concord. Helping them would be tantamount to a declaration of war. “Please don’t make us make you,” Ruby says. Annabelle scoffs that even if they kill her, either her crew would kill them or they’d kill the crew then die at sea. Ruby apologizes for the empty threat and says she’s just scared.

Annabelle decides that they can’t help them but they also don’t have to fight them. They’ll take them to Lacramor as prisoners and then assemble a council to figure out what to do with them. In the meantime, they’ll be clothed and fed and brought to a room without chains. The Candians, who don’t really have a ton of options here, agree.

Sacre Bleu

Soon after they’re situated (they get a short rest here), Primsy invites them to the Captain’s Quarters (which she shares with Annabelle) for tea. She doesn’t allow herself to say anything that would jeopardize her country’s position, but she seems very much on their side and confident this will be sorted out once they land and the council discusses it. She’s also excited for them to meet Lord Bleu, which they’re...less enthused about.

Ruby tries to get it into her head that she’s a strong, independent woman who doesn’t have to just do whatever he says--or even what Annabelle says--but it seems that Bleu has gotten to her first because Primsy says that he tells her that too and that he’s right about everything. Theo asks if he has any enemies in his house and she says no, confused about why he would ask. Jet decides to fully let the cat out of the bag and says that someone from Bleu’s house attacked them. Primsy, with shockingly little genre savviness, says that there have been a lot of deaths in Bleu’s family to get him to the place in the line of succession that he is and that they did get a letter from Plumbeline saying that Amethar would probably be named successor but if not him then it would probably be her. And if anything happens to her, guess who’s suddenly in charge? None other than Lord Consort Cheddar, aka Bleu. Theo tries to tell Primsy to watch her back but, on a 2 Charisma check, he just pisses off yet another House Cheddar lady and Primsy leaves for the Crow’s Nest to catch a glimpse of her new husband on his ship. On a Nat 20, Jet stealths behind her to protect her.

Liam goes to find Annabelle to try and convince her to drop them off at the Candy Mountain instead of Lacramor. He starts well with a compliment (“Your haircut looks fresh”) before trying to pimp out his harem of parents in exchange for the ride and rolling a 4 Persuasion. Liam submits to the slap he knows is coming--but it misses due to Ruby’s Hex giving her disadvantage and making her take her Nat 1 instead of her Nat 20. As she stumbles forward, she notices something in the distance and walks off to check on it, Liam following behind her.

Brennan has Murph make three mystery luck checks in the box of doom because he is the enemy and Murph rolls a 7, 16, and a 14. For Murph, pretty good!

They’re just about at the Yogurt Shoals (Bleu territory, you’ll remember) and they notice that all the other ships except for the two house Bleu ones have veered off in another direction.

It starts to rain milk (Brennan seems to indicate that’s what the 7 roll was) and Annabelle yells at Primsy to come down from the crow’s nest. Primsy notices that the other ships are gone right as arrows start to fire from the Bleu ships to hers. Jet, at once, shields Primsy from the barrage.

Annabelle tries to get them out of there in a hurry but finds the sails are damaged and the House Bleu ships sidle up along the Colby and pull a Ben-Hur, tearing up the sides of the ship until it begins to sink. Everyone roll initiative!

Also, it’s Zac’s Birthday.

Happy Birthday Zac.

Medal of Honor

Gotta give out our first double medal of honor this episode, fittingly, to the twins who were on fire this whole episode.

At the top of the episode when no one else knew what to do, Jet took the reins and picked a plan and everyone else was swayed by her force of will and didn’t even ask any questions. And then later, when Theo fumbled his diplomacy, she again acted on impulse and put herself in the perfect position to protect Primsy.

And then Ruby--in the talkback, they said they were talking about “Ruby’s Big Day” which was great because so was I in my head. Taking her magic--the very thing that put her in so much danger--and turning it to their greatest asset with the clutch disguise and then using the hell out of the Message Cantrip? Lapin has been dead for less than a day and she’ll already taken the position of party Face.

Very Galaxy Brained moves from our girls this ep.

Sunny Side Up

The immediacy of the “Do you think she’s gonna get off?” response from Ally was like they’d been waiting their entire life to make that specific joke.

Also on the topic of Ally just literally saying anything, watching everyone break as Liam described the game “Stairs” was an experience. And Brennan having to react to that as a parent and acknowledge it was full abuse gave me shades of Kristen talking about all the cult literature in her family’s house that Brennan was hearing about for the first time in that moment.

The whole sequence in the alley with Thad was such a perfect moment of catharsis after the heaviness of everything else. That, “Point with my hand or?” Siobhan’s French accent. Liam hitting a Nat 20 to knock Thad TF out. Everyone coming up with plans on the spot on top of each other and the big, “NO!” after Brennan’s, “To the cathedral!” The rubberband needed to snap back to comedy for a bit after last week and all those flashbacks and they did it perfectly here.

Jet already having a “Bastard Jet” tattoo and Murph improvising that she made him do it with a cantrip.

“Advantage for boldness and disadvantage for madness.”

Things I’m Concerned About

Short list this week because the answer is basically “everything”.

Brennan. Brennan, if anything happens to Primsy...I know that this is all pre-recorded and whatever happened already happened but if Primsy is hurt in any way...Brennan…

Very interesting that the Pontifex OK’d the wedding of Primsy and Bleu basically immediately while all manner of insanity was going on but couldn’t find the time to get the emperor paperwork filled out. And by interesting I mean she’s a snake.

A big ocean battle after only a short rest? With no healer? Don’t care for that one bit.

I would not want to be Katherine Ghee right now. Idk what she’s doing but if she’s alive and well, I have to assume her life is about to be filled with BS.

Liam’s rage (which he talked to Amethar about) seems like the kind of thing that becomes a problem either for poor decision making reasons or literal communing with evil spirits reasons. So I’m for sure monitoring that situation, just in case.

Understandably, the gang wasn’t able to go for their allies this episode, but that puts them in a BAD position to put it mildly. If Calroy did ready that ship, it’s possible that at least some of the rest of the Candians will be able to get out once they hear the news. Fingers crossed for those guys but it would be a fittingly brutal story move if all the fun, tutorial level NPCs just get executed now that we’ve left the starting area (which already was pretty brutal to be sure).

Five More Things

It took me saying the episode title out loud while writing this recap to understand that it was a Bloodkeep reference. I was like, what a weird thing to call an ep. It doesn’t fit the titling conventions for this show at all.

Loved getting to see Amethar with all his sisters, even with the ouchiness of knowing how that all panned out. I especially liked Citrina as a foil for the Pontifex. If the Bulb is nothing but raw power divorced from morality then it’s nice to see someone who has a connection to that power using it in the name of love.

Theo continuing to use everyone's titles even after all that happened is so true to character. Also: “Call me Bastard Jet.”/”As you wish, your highness.”

Zac’s character didn’t show up this ep so I’m very curious when it’s gonna happen. It could happen in the battle ep--some rando helping you mid life or death battle would give very wary people a reason to trust a stranger--but it seems more plausible it would happen next story ep. I wonder if that cotton candy monk mentioned is gonna be his next character. I wonder if it’s gonna be a candy person at all.

Listening to Ruby and Theo talk about how mean they were to Lapin and how guilty they felt about it was A Lot. Like, we only had him for 6 episodes but they have an entire lifetime of history with the dude and Murph and Siobhan really made that hit home in their tiny moments. It was A Lot.

Also! This has nothing to do with Crown of Candy and it’s circulated a bunch already, deservedly so, but I wanna shout out this hilarious Fantasy High animatic by @morikorii. Super happy we’re starting to get kickass animatics for D20 stuff from crazy talented artists.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #a crown of candy #a crown of candy spoilers #the royal report

82 notes · View notes