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myownwholewildworld · 2 months ago

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iii. like obsidian & quartz - acta, non verba

chapter 2 | series masterlist | ao3 | main masterlist | chapter 4 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: your efforts to get the ball rolling on your plan get shunted aside by marcus' chivalry. a/n: hey, hi, hello! i'm sorry it's taken me a month to post the third chapter, but here it is! 💖 i do find posting this series a bit nerve-wracking, just because i have the feeling that this plot is bigger than my writing skills so i keep wondering if i'm making it justice. but i'm rolling with it anyways haha as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. some impure thoughts. one account of a handjob (👀). sexual tension. misogyny. a fair bit of swearing. sword fight, death, wounds, blood... you know the drill. dialogue in italics means it’s spoken in gaelic (unless stated otherwise, i.e. latin) when marcus and callie are in the same scene. marcus is 48, ofc!reader is 26. w/c: ~9.9k. (i'm truly sorry) dividers by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

“Here again, wee lass?” Cormag’s croaky voice caught you off guard.

You jumped in place and almost hit the back of your head against the shelf above.

You were bent over a pile of baskets in the kitchen, trying to count how many wild parsnips there were left. With your family gone, you had to look after your people. You worried there was not much left to eat, but the old cook seemed to be good at rationing. The Romans had no measure when it came to food, rapidly dwindling the stock saved for the village. There were way too many mouths to feed now, and the first harvest of the root vegetables would not be for at least another six months.

Your blood boiled when you saw the feasts the Romans were served every night while the servants had a measle chunk of bread and a watered-down broth. You were all living under tyranny — one you hoped to topple. Only if fucking Marcus Acacius was not such a tight cunt, you would be closer to your goal.

It wasn’t for your lack of trying though. Every night you were as suggestive as you could, considering how many pairs of eyes were watching you — enemies’ and allies’ alike. The first lusting after you, wondering if you were a whore who could warm up their bed at night, and the second curious about what game you were up to. Not many people were privy to your plan.

“Ah, ye ogre! You scared the shit out of me,” you chuckled, hand on pounding heart, when you turned around to face him.

Cormag’s thick brows knitted together, his big, round nose red with rage.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you around here until at least tomorrow,” he barked, arms folded with disapproval.

“Come on, Cormag. I’ll work tonight and then—”

“Nay, I don’t want to hear it. You are not working tonight. You’ve worked the last eight nights in a row,” he said between gritted teeth. “I want you to go home to Bonnie and rest.”

You huffed, now your turn to cross arms.

“I need no rest. I am fresh as a daisy, couldn’t be better,” you lied through your teeth.

The reality was you were knackered. You had been helping out in the kitchens day and night, much to Cormag’s despair. If you were not doing a stock check, you were shuffling stuff around for the next meal or cleaning after those filthy, mannerless soldiers. And you were the savages, the cheek they had was beyond you.

“Don’t bullshit me, I can see right through it. Those grey circles under your eyes are screaming for some sleep,” he replied, getting closer to you.

His heavy hands landed on your shoulders, forcing you to turn around and pushing you towards the door. You resisted, digging your heels into the cobblestone.

“Cormag, mas e do thoil e (please)! If I go home, I’m just going to get bored. I need something to occupy my mind with,” you pleaded with him, but he was deaf as a rock to your request.

“The whole point of sleeping is to empty your mind, not to occupy it with something,” he stopped dragging you once you were through the arch.

Sleep had evaded you since your whole family had been murdered. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Marcus’ gladius sinking in your father’s belly, your brothers’ and sister’s intertwined arms as they burnt to ashes, your mother’s mangled body while the Earth swallowed her whole. As if you didn’t have enough demons as it was, tragedy had knocked on your door once more — unannounced, greedy even.

You spun around, flashing your eyelashes at him, puppy eyes and all. Cormag just shook his head no, unwavering, and pointed towards the corridor that would lead you outside.

“I want you out of my sight for one day, fear beag (little one). Humour me, I beg you,” it was almost a prayer, but you knew Cormag did not have one sanctified bone in his body.

“Okay, just one night. But I’ll be back tomorrow!” You shouted over your shoulder, a proper threat, as you sauntered towards the hall.

It was still the early evening, but the courtyard was brimming with life. There were a few legionaries dotted around, swords at the ready. They seemed to train late into the night before they burst in into the great hall to eat and drink like gluttons.

As your feet slithered through the wet grass, you suddenly felt a heavy pair of eyes on you. Brown, beautiful— no, dreadful eyes, you were sure. You didn’t need to look to know that Marcus was watching your every step — your body burnt hot every time he would study you with so much intensity.

And he was doing that again, just now. You debated whether to lock eyes on him or not, but it was a lost fight. Soon enough, your green orbs located him in his black and golden armour walking towards the keep, mud up to his knees and a wild look on his face. One you had not seen before — a crack in his steadfast façade.

Your brows slightly furrowed, almost coming to a halt, while you tried to understand what was different. Then you saw it: his sword was stained with blood. He was not coming back from training, but… from battle? Your heartrate spiked; your eyes slightly widened as your fingers clutched a fist of your long skirt.

What battle? What had happened? What was going on? Who had he hurt? Did you know them? Had you lost someone dear? Was death knocking at your door once more?

You tamed your features as he approached, putting on your best act as you calmed down your quick breathing. His eyes never left yours, not while he walked from the portcullis to the keep, not once.

As he got to where you were, he nodded in your direction, as if to say, “don’t worry, I’m okay.” You then understood he mistook your concern, thinking it was for him. Oh, how wrong he was… You were not worried about him in the slightest, but about whoever succumbed to his sword.

As soon as he and his retinue disappeared into the keep, you bunched your skirt up and started running towards the village, dreading what you might find there.

Five minutes later, you were in the town’s square. A crowd was gathered around the stone well. The shrieking cry of a mother cradling his dead son pierced through the silence, boring into your heart.

“My wee lad, mo mhac (my son)!” Her screams formed a knot in your throat, one so tight you feared you could not breath.

You forged your way through the multitude, finding the woman on her knees, hugging her son close to her chest. You knew them — you knew everyone in your lands, if not by face, by name at least. These you knew by face and name.

Torcall was standing right behind her, blood on his clothes indicating he had been the one bringing the lad back for his mother to mourn.

Torcall’s sombre expression prevented you from saying anything, even when you looked at him for answers. He just shook his head no and turned around to speak to a young man. You quickly recognised him too, Dòmhnall — son to the grieving woman, brother to the deceased boy. Dòmhnall nodded to Torcall’s words and vanished.

Torcall made his way towards you and pushed you aside.

“What the fuck is going on, Torcall?”

“People are growing restless, Callie. The Romans were by the firth, training in the murky waters. Some lads saw Acacius alone for one second and thought they could take him,” he didn’t need to explain what the outcome had been.

“What were they thinking? Taking on the General? How old were they?”

“Around ten and five. When Acacius killed the boy, his friends panicked, dragged him out and retreated. I found them in the woods. The others were lucky to escape alive,” Torcall sighed heavily and so did you.

“We all need to be careful here. We’ve got to play the long game. Once we have enough information from them, then we can start planning some skirmishes to diminish their numbers, but not before,” you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration as you both walked towards Bonnie’s.

“People don’t listen to reason when they feel threatened,” he looked at you askance, then back down to his feet, momentarily lost in thought. “You need to speak to some people, let the rumour spread that you’re working towards freedom — otherwise they’ll feel like they’ve been forgotten, and rightfully so. Let people know that they will need to be ready to fight when you command them. Give them some hope, something to look forward to.”

You didn’t want to show your hand too early, but Torcall was partially right. If this continued, if people tried to get their own justice, it would end up being more tragic than what ought to be. You could not endure more senseless loss of life, your clansmen dying for naught.

Your plan was so clear in your head, a simple to-do list —gain Marcus’ trust, kill off his army little by little, then finish him once he was the last man standing— but yet you hoped effective. If someone deviated, if someone betrayed you, then it would all be over way too soon. And you would end up like your mother — left for dead, hung in a cage off the keep as if you were a rat exposed to the elements.

“My athair’s retinue are already in the know,” you thought out loud, lips pouting with doubt. “But I did make them swear they would not tell a soul.”

Torcall propped open the wooden door to Bonnie’s crannog, the creaking noise welcoming you to the only home you knew now.

“I’ll go speak to my cousins, Seumas and Anndra, tomorrow. I know how eager they are to start a war, so this might appease them. I don’t want people up in arms just yet, we’ll wait for the Romans to be at their lowest,” you whispered back to him.

“Uhm, maybe—” Torcall’s voice got drown by the ones of his children.

“Auntaidh, auntaidh (auntie)!”The synchronised cacophony of your niece and nephew swept away part of the guilt you were feeling, forcing a wide smile onto your lips.

“I don’t think she’s here tonight, Marcus,” Maximus jest made his head turn to his direction.

With a cocked brow, Marcus feigned ignorance, the wooden fork in his hand mindlessly pushing around a lone meatball on his plate.

“Who?” He asked, as if neither of them knew who Maximus was referring to.

Your presence in the great hall every night had become a welcomed sight, one he had grown used to over the last few days. Not because it was soothing, but because it caused havoc. That was what he welcomed — someone who was not taken aback by his presence, someone who would hold his gaze and wouldn’t fold, someone who would shamelessly say his first name the way you said it nine nights ago.

And if he was entirely honest with himself, he also welcomed your advances. Not that he was showing it, but every taunting Dux Meus (my General/Leader/God), every suggestive glance, every time you touched him, his skin would set ablaze. It was just a harmless game, as long as it remained just that. He was here to do a job, and nothing should get in the way of that — even if a red-haired, green-eyed nymph tempted him down the path of infidelity.

How hypocritical of him to think of all the things he would do to you if given the chance, when he despised his wife for doing exactly that.

“What was her name? Connie? Charlie?” Maximus tapped his chin with one finger, pretending to think.

“Callie,” Marcus bit the bait without realising.

“Ah, yes. Callie. How could you forget when the poor woman has been throwing herself at you for more than a week now and you have given her nothing in return?” The commander observed with an ample grin. “Have you claimed her yet? Fucked her?”

His whole body went rigid with rage at Maximus’ provocation. Sometimes he hated his friendship with him, the liberties he took even though he was above the man in the command chain. If it wasn’t because there were still people on the dais, Marcus would have punched him square in the jaw to shut him up.

Instead, his eyes darted to his friend’s with a dark warning in them. Maximus laughed it off, leaning back on his chair and looking at him with a mischievous smile.

“I’ll take that as a no then. I bet she’s tired of being ignored and that’s why she’s not here tonight. Maybe she’s fucking one of your legionaries in the barracks right now. Damn, maybe I’ll do that myself—”

“Are you fucking done?” He interrupted, the legs of his chair screeching as he dragged it backwards to stand up.

“Have I touched a nerve now?” Maximus’ smile just grew bigger as he stood up too, palming Marcus’ shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, old friend. Helping you, actually. You need to get laid, clear your mind of war for one night. Your hair is greyer now than what it was a month ago.”

“I don’t need your advice nor your teasing. It may be all fun and games to you, but there’s a lot on the line here,” Marcus sneered as they walked down the corridor formed by cheery and drunk soldiers sat at their tables.

He wasn’t worried about his reputation but all the debts he owed. Not him, specifically, but his wife. The lush life she led at home would ruin him eventually.

Maximus’ demeanour changed, hands laced on his back and head bowed down in deep thought.

“I know what’s at stake, Marcus. We all are doing what we can to find the instigator,” only then Marcus realised that Maximus was talking about the attempt on his life that afternoon. “Valerius’ henchman was able to follow the boy into the forest. He’s definitely dead.”

He said it as if it was good news, but that death would haunt Marcus at night. It had been just a boy, probably not more than ten and six, who had met his fate at his sword. Marcus had tried to keep him at bay, but when the boy lunged forwards with a small knife on his hand, he basically impaled himself on the gladius Marcus was holding to ward him off.

“Good to hear,” he replied with a flat, lacking voice.

Maximus angled his head, then shook it.

“Good night, Marcus. I’ll let you know if I see your Callie entertaining the men in the barracks,” Maximus waved him goodbye, light-heartedly.

“Sod off,” he rolled his eyes, before turning the corner.

A tiny part of him wanted to go after his friend and check himself, make sure you were not fucking another man.

That thought made him frown. What you did or didn’t do was none of his business. In fact, you were a free woman and could do as you pleased. Even if that meant you were not pleasing him.

You threw the saddle on Kelpie’s back — she was your late mother’s horse. The horse was as black as coal with a shiny, short coat. She was a young one, so still needed a fair amount of training — at least, she was properly socialised. Mòrag had died before she could train her newest addition. This horse was, most probably, the closest you would ever be to your màthair (mother).

The mare neighed loudly when you tried to adjust the saddle on her belly and moved around nervously, trotting in place to put distance between you two. You shushed her, caressing her muzzle and chin groove.

“Shh, shhh… It’s okay, àlainn (lovely). I see you don’t like that, do you?” You whispered in a calming manner until the mare quietened down.

You leaned forward until your forehead pressed against hers and then placed a gentle kiss on the bridge of Kelpie’s nose before reaching towards her back to remove the untied saddle.

“Barebacking it is then,” the idea didn’t thrill you, but you didn’t fancy walking all the way to Bun Craobh (Bunchrew).

That morning you had gone out to the barn to speak to Anndra and Seumas, only to find out they were no longer there. When you went back into the crannog, Bonnie mentioned they had left the morning prior. Something about a carpentry job in the next town over required their attention, or that was they had told their mother.

You had a nagging feeling that wasn’t true. The siblings were ardent defenders of your family, so you knew they would not stand idly. What brought them to Bun Craobh though, you were not sure but intended on finding out.

You led Kelpie out of the stables and into the courtyard of your castle. You hoped no one would notice you sneaking out with a horse that allegedly didn’t belong to you, but you were obviously out of luck — had been for a while now.

“Hey, puella (young lady)! Where do you think you’re going with that horse?” One of the roman soldiers cut you off, hands on hips and a deep frown. You recognised him from sitting on the dais with Marcus, although you didn’t know his name.

You cursed him under your breath, but composed a sweet smile, when you just wanted to knee his balls and run past him.

“I’m in need of a horse. We are out of some herbs and spices in the kitchens, so I was going to visit the town’s healer…” You explained with your eyes averted down and fingers laced in front of you.

“I’ll take care of this, Cassius,” Marcus appeared on his back, a heavy, broad and very masculine hand landing on the shoulder of the man in front of you.

For a brief second, you saw a flicker of disgust in his eyes, but Cassius quickly masked it with a deferent nod before walking away. Your eyes followed him, curious as to what you had just seen. Did Cassius despise Marcus? Why?

“Where are you going, Callie?” The General’s deep, throaty voice made you look in his direction.

For a second, you got lost in his chocolate eyes — there was an almost imperceptible sadness in them, a tinge of regret that seemed to haunt him every day and every night. How could that possibly be when he dispatched people to their deaths so mindlessly, so effortlessly?

“Cormag needs some bits for his cooking, Dux Meus,” you explained again, and there it was.

His irises darkened with the last two words, the sadness transforming into something else — liquid darkness. You held his gaze, hypnotised by how the desire rapidly kicked the sadness out of him. And you knew he was holding onto every bit of his control, taming his body not to react to your words — but his eyes he could not govern. They were a window to his lust.

You fought with your own craving. The way he stared at you made your skin run hot as ember and slick pool in your slit. You had been wondering what it would feel like to be fucked raw by a man like Marcus Acacius; you had even fantasized about it a few nights.

An donas dubh (dammit)! If it wasn’t for how crowded Bonnie’s crannog was, you would have even touched yourself to the thought of him plunging in and out between your thighs.

That idea was so foreign to you, it took you aback.

“Is that okay?” His question lingered; Marcus’ head tilted with knitting brows.

You looked at him doe eyed as you came out of your wet haze. Fuck, stop imagining things, he’s right there talking to you! You reprimanded yourself before blinking a few times to clear your mind.

“I-I’m sorry, Dominus (Master)?” The slight stammer in your voice was not faked this time around.

“I said I’ll accompany you to wherever you need to go. It’s not safe out there, even less so for a lonely maid serving the Romans,” he repeated.

That offer shocked you because you were not expecting such gallantry from him. You also had to smother a snicker — you were not at risk of anything, this was your land, your people. But Marcus did not know that.

“Oh, it’s not necessary, my lord. I know my way around—”

“I insist. Please,” he added, his fists curled on his sides.

If the look in his eyes indicated anything, that would be that Marcus Acacius would not accept no for an answer. And that would mess your whole itinerary up, because you could not take him to Bun Craobh, in case your cousins were really planning something. Now you would really have to go to Naimh’s new cottage, even though that was not your plan at all.

“Awright, aye,” you conceded, an unwilling smile crooking your lips.

“I didn’t see you last night in the great hall,” Marcus broke the surprisingly comfortable silence.

He was riding on your left and you couldn’t help but turn your head to watch him. So, your efforts were going somewhere at last. For eight nights you had been on his heels, serving him as if that was what you were born to do. Your attempts at seducing him began to be so obvious, you could hear the other maids giggling to themselves every time you leaned over his shoulder, offering him a clear sight of your generous cleavage.

Even his soldiers had noticed. You had been so obvious, other men thought you were a pleasure woman and that was invitation enough for some of them to try and reach for your ass whenever you approached their tables. Disgusting behaviour, but you had to laugh your way out of it and slap some hands so no one would take offense at your rejection.

“Cormag would not let me work again. I really wanted to be there though,” you said truthfully, watching him in the corner of your eye.

Marcus straightened his back, as if suddenly uncomfortable, and studied your surroundings.

It was still early afternoon, but it seemed to be later due to the thick tree canopy above you. You were travelling westward through the dense forest that neared Beauly Firth. Naimh had moved to a crannog in the road to Bun Craobh after her home in Loch Moy had been burnt to ashes. Thankfully, she had not been home when it happened. A small win in your book.

“I see. He worries about you,” he noted, jaw tight as he spoke.

“Aye, he’s like a father to me,” that old git really was. “I should be back to work tomorrow.”

“Good,” he replied without even thinking and you knew he did not intend to say that out loud. “I mean, you’re one of the few people who speak Latin. It’s hard to communicate with the rest,” Marcus added swiftly to veil his slip of tongue.

You smiled to yourself, realising this was the first time you two were alone, away from prying eyes.

“You only need to ask, Marcus,” you whispered, your voice charged with the right hint of suggestion and provocation.

His neck snapped in your direction at your words.

“Ask what?”

He knew exactly what. The man was stubborn as a mule, playing hard to get. But he was not immune to your advances, as much as he wanted to conceal his lust for you.

“You know what,” was your simple answer before spurring Kelpie on with the heels of your leather shoes.

You spotted a small hut between some trees off the main path, that had to be the crannog that Naimh had found in her search for a new home. You had seen that cottage a few times before, always abandoned and eerie — legend said that was where the wisps would lead you at night.

Kelpie sprinted towards it, and you heard Marcus’ horse neigh a few feet behind you. You needed to act fast before good ol’ Naimh gave you away and revealed your identity. So, the moment you dismounted and Naimh was under the frame of the main door, you threw your arms around her neck.

She was a fragile woman in her late sixties, white hair and wrinkling skin. Her nose a tad too prominent, her lips wide and big, slanted eyes. She was tiny too, with a crouched back that made her look even smaller.

“Naimh!” You exclaimed excitedly, and then whispered in her ear in Gaelic, “He doesn’t know who I am. Call me Callie, play along, please.”

The old woman stilled and then patted your back in understanding.

“Ah, my sweet Callie, so good to see you. I started to think you’d forgotten about this old crone. This how you treat the elderly?” She spoke in your native language, which meant Marcus would not understand a word.

“He doesn’t understand, Naimh, you don’t need to put on the best act of your life, just be mindful of my name,” you sniggered, holding her hands with both of yours. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“So have I, leannan (darling), so have I,” she squeezed your hands before dropping hers to her sides, her eyes squinting with a bit of hatred.

Marcus cleared his throat, standing right behind you. You stepped aside.

“General, this is Naimh, our town’s healer. Naimh, this is General Acacius,” you introduced them in Latin, although you were sure Naimh did not understand much.

“My pleasure,” he bowed his head slightly while Naimh stared him down as if he was a snake trying to steal the eggs off her nest.

The old woman just grunted and walked back inside, not responding to his pleasantry.

Shrugging, you looked at Marcus.

“Don’t mind her too much, she’s not really fond of anyone,” that much was true.

“She’s fond of you,” he pointed out with a raised brow.

“Well, yeah, that’s because I pester her a lot. I can be very insisting.”

“You definitely are,” he muttered under his breath, not intended for your ears, but you heard that.

With a sufficient grin, you turned on your heels and got inside the crannog with Marcus right behind you.

By the time you were done with the visit, it was almost pitch-black outside. The weather, as everything in the Highlands, had turned too — it was dreich and drizzling, a light, damp mist hanging low, close to the ground.

You attached the thread of the little hemp sack around your waist as you waved goodbye to Naimh. She had given you an assortment of different spices she had stocked up: wild mountain thyme, dried pepper dulse and coriander grass. You were not sure if Cormag needed them, but you had to keep up with the lie in Marcus’ presence.

Both horses were lazily grazing around. They looked so different—Marcus’ white as a quartz, yours black as obsidian—they reminded you of how opposite you both were. Ironic, really, that the mare and the stallion were now approaching each other and rubbing necks.

“Kelpie,” you called her. Your mother’s horse barely looked at you, too busy grooming the back of Marcus’ horse with her teeth. “Hey!”

Kelpie almost brayed like a donkey, showing her annoyance, before she cantered towards you with a loud neigh.

“Oi, calm down. We’ve got to go back,” you asked of her, grabbing the reins.

“Kelpie? That’s an unusual name,” Marcus said while he jumped onto his horse’s back graciously.

Your mother had let you choose the name when it was first born, in one of your last visits to your family home as a married woman. A brief respite shared with Mòrag where you had forgotten who you were married to — you had spent the whole afternoon coming up with uncommon names and had finally settled for Kelpie.

“It’s a creature that inhabits lochs. They are shape-shifting spirits that usually take the form of a black horse,” you explained as you managed to get on top of the mare. A difficult task, considering there was no saddle to hold onto. “Some people say they are evil because they prey on us. They drag their victims into the water, devour them, and throw the entrails to the water's edge, so they can lure their next casualty. I think that’s just survival. There is no treachery in their nature.”

By the time you had finished talking, you were by Marcus’ side. His eyebrows almost touched each other, and you wondered if he had picked on your cutting remark about treachery. Whether he did or not, you did not know.

“Are they just stories to scare children away from deep water or are they real?” He questioned after a deliberating minute as both of your horses resumed the path ahead.

“I have never seen a kelpie myself, but I know folk who have perished to them,” you shrugged, the image of dismembered bodies by Loch Ness coming back to you. “It’s not a pretty picture.”

“I bet. Your people seem to have many stories about lurking creatures. I have seen the tapestries telling the story of the dragon-like monster living in the lake nearby,” he said with a pinch of incredulity in his voice.

“Loch. We call them lochs, not lakes,” you corrected him.

“Sorry, loch,” he said back with a soft ch, head cocked towards you. It was a good attempt.

“And that would be Nessie. She’s a staple around here, everyone loves her,” you joked. “She’s a Kelpie, but one which transforms into some sort of dragon. I’m not sure though, never seen her myself. But if you ever speak to Cormag, he’ll tell you all about her. Best mates they are, so he says.”

As soon as you spoke of the cook, you realised your mistake. You were talking too much, telling him all about a land he hated, a land he wanted to steal from you. A land he would destroy along with all its people. There was no point in explaining to him all about what made Caledonia special if he was here to wreck your life.

“The cook?” He pressed and you simply nodded, remaining silent.

For ten minutes neither of you talked. Weirdly, the silence was not ever bothersome. You didn’t have the need to fill it, and neither did he.

Until he did.

“My stud’s name is Faun,” he muttered, resuming the dead conversation where you had left it. The stallion’s ears perked up at the sound of his name. “They are half-human, half-goat creatures. They inhabit forests like this back home. Some say they instil fear in travelling men and drive them to madness, others say they can guide you to safety. Never encountered one myself either.”

You turned your head around to glance at him. His story was strangely similar to yours, just adapted to his own beliefs. How could two very different people share something so unique as your love for mythical creatures?

“They sound beautiful. And before you judge me for saying that… beauty is on the eye of the beholder,” you added with a mellow laugh. You found goats endearing.

Marcus’ serious expression softened. “Evil or not, I do think they are too.”

Your eyes locked for an eternal second and you wondered why there was an unfamiliar feeling sitting low in your belly.

A split second was all it took to make you snap out of whatever brief connection you suddenly felt.

You heard the whistling sound before you saw the arrow sticking out of Marcus’ left shoulder, in that unprotected spot where the shoulder pad met the breastplate. The arrow had flown just a few inches away from your ear.

Marcus’ eyes widened as reality settled in. Out of nowhere, three men emerged from the woods, face painted with soot—the whites of their eyes sparkled under the full moon.

The sudden movement scared off Kelpie, who harshly stirred around and started galloping towards the trees with no regard for her rider—you. You managed to hold on to the low branches of the trees, Kelpie slipping from between your thighs as the mare ran towards safety alone, leaving you hanging from a branch.

The clink of metal behind you forced you to let go of the branch, landing on your feet like a graceful cat. When you turned around, you saw that Marcus had dismounted Faun. His stud, at least, had not abandoned his rider to the mercy of his enemies the same way your mare had. Little traitorous horse.

“Get back!” Marcus shouted at you as he repositioned his body between you and the threat of the threesome.

But they were no threat to you, you were sure. They were here to kill him. The same way some fucking kids had tried to end him that very afternoon. Were people plain, thick gòrach (stupid)?

“People are growing restless,” Torcall had said to you yesterday. So much so they would endanger you too? Your cover? What were you supposed to do now?

If you helped them and Marcus survived, you would be dead before dawn, your cover blown.

If you helped them and Marcus died, Agricola would appoint a new man in Marcus’ stead. One that might not fit well into your plan. And you would be hunted down too.

If you helped him and they survived, they would go back to your folk and tell them all how you betrayed them, how you turned against them — how you protected the General.

If you helped him and they died… Your conscience would be tainted forever.

Or you could do nothing — let destiny run its course. The General deserved to die for what he had done to your family; it was actually only fair. But Marcus needed to be killed off at the right time — not sooner nor later. Just right, as a pig hung for slaughter on the first days of winter.

As the Romans would say, Alea iacta est (the dice is cast).

“Caileag fealltach (traitorous lass)!” One of the men screeched before leaping on you, sgian-dubh (small knife) on his left and a longer sword on his right hand.

The raucous sound of steel colliding sparked life back into you. Marcus’ gladius had curbed the attack. And with a thundering flourish of his sword, the edge of it hit the man’s side with deadly precision. The attacker crumbled to his knees, a fountain of blood varnishing the grass underneath.

“Mac na galla (son of a bitch), I’ll have your head for this!” The taller man cowed in Gàidhlig.

Marcus’ hand pushed you back — unbeknownst to you, you had taken a few steps forward, wanting to say something, anything to stop this madness.

Marcus and his opponent exchanged a few strident blows. Despite the General being substantially older than his adversary, his movements were more gracious, trained, measured, while the other man’s were sloppy and directionless. It was only a matter of minutes until one of them tired out, and your bet, regrettably, was on your clansman.

“What is a lass like you doing with a man like him? Are you his whore or what? Have you no shame, woman?” The recriminatory voice of the last man came to you in your mother tongue, albeit a slightly different accent.

He had swerved towards you while Marcus was distracted with the other man, too focused on the dance of swords. You were unarmed, this fight you would not win.

Your kinsman’s sword swayed in front of you, and you managed to jump back, avoiding the blade by a mere inch. Your eyes shot back to his, back slightly crouched, trying to predict his next movement.

A malicious smirk appeared on your opponent’s lips, as if he was enjoying himself.

“I’m going to send you to fucking Dubnos (Hell), so you can rot there with the low-lives you get involved with,” the threat was not veiled.

He lunged forward and you dropped to the floor — eyeing the dead man’s blood-soaked sgian-dubh, you grabbed it and held it close to your chest.

“I don’t think so. I don’t want to kill you, please,” you almost begged him between gritted teeth as you dragged yourself back a few feet, slowly getting up as Marcus’ fight unfolded fifteen yards away from where you stood.

A brief glance in his direction told you he was holding up alright, just as you knew he would. You had seen him in a sword fight before — your father had died because of it. Because of him.

“Kill me? You?” he laughed out loud. “You’re just a sad, little, useless woman. What do you think you can do to me? Bet the closest you have ever been to a knife is in a kitchen, where you fucking belong. There and warming up some man’s bed, but not his,” he barked back, almost looming over you.

What he just said struck you as odd. Did this man not know how many battles you had fought besides your father, your entire family, to protect your land, your clan?

You could not recognise him under all the soot, his hair tied back and covered in mud in a pretty good attempt at concealing his identity.

Before you could question him, he lunged forwards.

“Callie, no!” You heard Marcus’ call, a note of fear sullying his words.

An acute relief washed over him when the man in front of you fell to his knees, laying at your feet. A big, burgundy stain tarnished your blue dress around your belly area. A bloody knife was firm on your steady hand, your eyes devoid of emotion — had you done this before? Impossible, he thought to himself, she’s just a maid.

The relief just grew in his tight chest when your eyes locked with his. But what he saw in them caught him off guard — fear?

“Marcus!”

Then he felt it. The ripping of skin, the sinking of metal through flesh, then a few twists of the knife rearranging his guts for good measure — then warmth. Sticky, wet warmth soaking the woollen tunic underneath his armour.

“Die, bastard,” his attacker whispered in his ear, the words strangely clear to him.

Marcus’ eyes quickly drifted down to see one of those small knives the barbarians used, sunken down to its hilt on the left-hand side of his lower abdomen, right under his lorica. He didn’t feel the pain, not just yet — just rage.

He had disarmed his rival but blundered. He shouldn’t have, but the moment he realised you were no longer behind him, he frantically searched his surroundings to find you quite a few feet away from him, from his protection. He thought you dead when he saw you so close to that man, almost entrapped in an intimate embrace. Turned out, you could protect yourself alright.

His left fingers followed the red river dripping onto the ground, almost mesmerised by the sight of his own thick blood.

Snapping out of his trance and with shock still holding him upright, he effortlessly swung his sword — the other man eyeing him with fright, realising those were his last seconds on this worldly plane.

The head of the last man standing rolled off his shoulders and hit the ground with a sharp thud.

“No, Marcus, no! Don’t pull it out,” you whispered into his neck, your fingers wrapping around his on the hilt of the knife.

When did you bridge the distance? How were you so close? He hadn’t heard you. At all.

His mind went numb as more blood poured from his body, his speech slurred as his grasp on consciousness became looser by the minute.

“I need to—,” he mumbled, brows frowned and fingers tighter.

“No, you’ll bleed out. Please, listen to me. If you want to live, don’t fucking touch it,” your sweary prayer finally reached him, and he loosened up the grip on the knife. “Shite. Faun! Fucking shite, Faun! Come, boy, come!” He barely saw you waving down his horse — his sight going too.

Marcus fought to stay afloat, but the waves were relentless, bigger than him, pushing him down to the seabed. He was drowning.

“Can you— Fuck, Marcus, can you jump?”

He looked at you confused, then in front of him. Faun was standing right there, waiting for him to hop onto his back. His hand held on to the saddle but couldn’t bring himself up.

“Ad genua (to your knees), Faun,” he muttered in Latin, and the stallion knelt almost instantly.

“Thank the fucking gods he’s trained be…” Marcus didn’t hear the last of your sentence as he plummeted on top of Faun, the knife and arrow sinking further in his flesh.

If it wasn’t for his impending death, you would have been relieved when Marcus fainted.

“…trained better than my mother’s mare,” was how you ended your sentence. One that would have fucked your whole plan up. And your life too.

“Fuck, this is bad. Really bad,” you muttered to yourself frantically as you sat down on the saddle.

You pushed Marcus’ body up, making him sit upright facing you with his heavy, manly thighs over yours — your knees pressing hard around Faun’s back to keep your balance as the stud stood up. You cradled Marcus’ cheeks and lightly patted him.

“Marcus. Hey, wake up,” you whispered, uprooting no reaction from him whatsoever. “Fuck, I said wake up!” You slapped him harder this time, the sound ricocheting on the trees and the palm of your hand itchy — it shouldn’t given the circumstances, but smacking him felt damn good.

The General groaned but didn’t open his eyes. With your right forearm pressed against his chest, your fingers wrapped around the arrow on his left shoulder. With as much care as you could and trying not to wiggle the arrow, you snapped the shaft at the hafting with the help of your left hand.

Marcus did not complain, so he had to be really out of it right now. You let him lean forward with his sweaty forehead lodged in the crook of your neck — way too close for comfort. You detested his proximity, but your body had a mind of its own. His warm breath fanning your skin made your hair stand.

Not the fucking time.

“Focus, dammit,” you summoned all your strength.

You were closer to Naimh’s crannog than to the Inbhir Nis’ fortress. You did not know what other threats lied ahead and Marcus was in dire need of help — you could feel his blood dripping onto the saddle, staining Faun’s white coat. Naimh would have everything you required to patch him up and her hut was well hidden.

You looked in both directions, Faun patiently awaiting your command. You veered the reins to the left.

“Hyah, hyah!” You compelled the stallion with a subtle kick of your heels.

Faun darted forward, fast as a wildcat, and you wrapped your arm around Marcus’ waist to prevent him from falling sideways to the ground.

It only took you ten minutes to get to Naimh’s again. You reined Faun back and he came to a sudden stop just a couple of feet away from the door.

“Ad genua,” you said to the horse, remembering the General’s command, and Faun knelt.

By that point, Marcus’ mind was very far away. You threaded your arms under his and dragged him all to the crannog. There was a red trickle all the way from the saddle to where you were now.

“Fuck,” with the heel of your foot, you kicked Naimh’s door. “Naimh, it’s me, open up!”

You heard the rustling of her feet as she sauntered towards the door, swinging it open. With your back towards her, you could not see her expression, but you bet on shock.

“Obh obh (oh dear), what’s happened? Are you hurt?” You could tell Naimh was extremely worried.

“I’m fine. Him… well, not so much. We’ve been attacked. I don’t know who sent those men, but they were out for blood,” you explained as you hauled him back inside.

Thank the gods you were strong enough to grab him by his shoulders and lay him down on Naimh’s bed.

“Did you recognise them?” She asked while searching for her healing kit — a basket with a sharp, small knife, some eyed needles made of bone, wool thread and a few different species of fresh plants and herbs.

“No, I didn’t. They covered their faces in soot and their hair with mud, I could barely tell they were human,” you omitted the fact that you had to stab one of them to death to keep your cover intact and also to save yourself. Naimh was a healer, she would not understand having to take someone else’s life voluntarily.

You, on the other hand, were used to it.

Your hands worked faster than your brain — you grabbed the knife and cut Marcus’ tunic, from the edge of the skirt to his hip, so you would have better access to the wound on his lower abdomen. That was the one which was profusely bleeding, while the arrowhead seemed to block the wound enough so it wouldn’t bleed too.

You focused your eyes on the wound and not on his almost-exposed lap. You had a job to do if you wanted him to survive this. Not wanted really, you needed him to survive for now, so he could die at the right time.

You pressed the injury with your left hand, the protruding blade lodged between your middle and index fingers, and then pulled curtly from the hilt of the sgian-dubh.

Marcus’ eyes flew wide open, a restrained groan ripping his throat. His hand tightly wrapped around your wrist, his arched back slightly off the straw cushion. His orbs were wild with pain — the veins on his neck chiselled on his skin, so pronounced you thought they would explode. You kept the pressure on the wound while pushing him back down onto the bed.

“It’s okay. Relax, I’ve got you,” you tried to calm him down. His big, brown eyes studied you, considering if he should trust you with his life. His fingers were so solidly wrapped around your wrist, you were sure he was restricting your bloodflow. “You have no other option. It’s me or whatever god of the dead you praise,” you muttered, holding his gaze.

With a painful grunt, he let go of your wrist and settled back down. His jaw was so clenched, you were almost worried he would break a tooth.

“Naimh, bring me a stick of wood or something for him to chew on while I stitch him up. And some wine,” you asked of the old woman.

Soon enough you had everything you needed. You offered the woodstick to Marcus, who quickly understood what it was for and opened his mouth. You placed it between his teeth and he bit down on it.

You quickly removed the heel of your hand from the seeping gash and poured wine over it to disinfect it. Marcus hissed in pain, muffled by the stick he was chewing. You patted the area with a rag to clean it and then extended your hand towards Naimh, palm up. She had already threaded the eyed needle.

“This is going to hurt,” you warned him before piercing the first layer of skin.

You focused on the task at hand, blocking out any distractions. The needle was not the sharpest, so you had to really puncture the skin to get it through to the other side — you were sure that Marcus hated every bone of yours every time the blunt tip of the needle stroked his skin.

The wound was very deep, probably too deep for sutures, but you had no other alternative. His attacker had really intended on gutting him like a cow — the skin was ripped around the edges, as if the man had twisted the blade several times once it had already sunk in Marcus’ flesh.

By the time you were done, it still looked gnarly, but at least it wasn’t bleeding so much now. You had been so absorbed in your doing, you had not realised that Marcus had fainted again — probably a combination of blood loss and pain had sent him straight to Aengus’ embrace, God of Dreams.

You knew he was completely unconscious when you pulled the arrow out of his shoulder and followed the same procedure with not a single complaint from him. The starred scar would heal better than the butchering on his tummy. You were no expert, but at least you gave him a fighting chance.

“Naimh, could you prepare one of your concoctions, please? We need to cover the wounds and aid the healing process. Otherwise it’s going to become infected,” you asked while packing away the stuff you had used off her basket.

You saw her shuffling some shelves in search of specific ingredients and let her do her job. After putting away the basket, you walked back to the bed Marcus was splayed on.

What a fucking sight.

The lorica still covered his torso, but you had removed the shoulder plates to have better access to the arrow. The tunic underneath the cuirass that hung from his waist down was ripped apart — you had to so you could patch him up. Just a few inches away, you knew, was the core of his manhood.

You wondered… Better not to dwell there for long.

Then there were his hairy, thick thighs, and a pair of leather sandals plaited around his muscular calves. The man’s anatomy spoke of power, vigour, strength.

Most of his visible skin, along with the tunic and armour, was stained in dry, scarlet blood. The picture in front of you, although suggestive, was gruesome, bordering on sadistic. So, you definitely should not feel the way you did — curious, too curious.

“Here,” Naimh’s offering brought you back. “Apply this to the wounds, should keep any festering at bay.”

“Tapadh leibh a Naimh (thank you),” you thanked her, taking the mortar from her hands.

The mixture looked gooey and greenish — pretty regular, considering there was a ton of aloe vera in it.

“Do you want me to send word to the castle, mo bana-phrionnsa (my princess)?”, she offered, placing a little, fragile hand on your shoulder.

“Aye, if you don’t mind,” a brief pause to jog your memory. “Make sure it reaches Maximus, and Maximus only,” you added.

That commander seemed to be the closest thing to a friend Marcus had here. You had seen them on the dais, exchanging whispers and jests in a brotherly manner. Surely he would be someone Marcus would trust with his life.

“Na gabh dragh, measag (don’t worry, dear). You know my will-o'-wisps only reach those who I command them to,” her voice lowered, a sweet grin painted on her wrinkling face before vanishing through the door.

You knew Naimh came from a long bloodline of druids and sorceresses — she could be found attending to the coirtheachan (standing stones), ensuring they were clean with oblations left at their feet, speaking to animals and trees, or lighting fires with the mere snap of her fingers. Once, as a child, you saw how a wave of her hand over the flames made some sparks flicker away from the bonfire and dance through the air until they disappeared between some trees. The first wisps you had ever seen.

So when Naimh spoke of her will-o’-wisps, you did not question her one bit. You were one hundred percent sure that the message would get to Maximus in record time.

Your attention drifted back to the unconscious man on the bed. You needed to do something about the deplorable state he was in.

His eyelids were so heavy, his mind so foggy, Marcus was not able to open them just yet. Coming back to his senses would take all the strength he had left and that wasn’t much. His limbs felt weighty yet jelly-like too. How damn boorish of him if this was how he greeted death, unable to even shake hands with the Parcae (Fates).

A lifetime of bloodshed and war, and this was how his life would end, away from a real battlefield. What a shame.

His mind kept wandering and almost didn’t register a soft, velvety feeling on his right shin. It was warm and light, and it came and went like a gush of wind. That feeling, that touch, expanded to his thigh, his hip, his tummy, his chest. It was everywhere, right there on the confines on his imagination and on his damn skin.

Weird what the mind would come up with when on its last legs.

Slowly he drifted away again, and when Marcus came back to once more, he wasn’t sure how long it had been. Minutes. Hours. Days?

This time though, his senses flared alive. One more than the others — the sense of touch. The previous warmth, dry before, now was wet. It dripped and dripped, creating a river that ran down his thigh.

The heaviness that had him in a chokehold had softened, and so was able to move one hand, inspecting what that liquid warmth was. Blood?

“Don’t touch,” a firm yet soothing voice warned him.

Something wrapped around his wrist and placed his hand back down on the ground. No, not on the ground… on a bed?

After several attempts, Marcus managed to flutter his eyes open. White vision first, he blinked until the fog dissipated. And then he saw you there, sat by his side — inquiring, green eyes staring him down.

He held your gaze for what seemed like an eternity, while the memories flooded back. The arrow, the attackers, the sword fight, you stabbing that man to his death, the knife deeply lodged in his abdomen. The stitching, the painful stitching.

His eyes drifted down and only then did he realise that he was completely naked. Not even a thin piece of fabric covering him, no — absolutely, fucking nothing. Bare as the day he was fucking born.

Marcus’ eyes quickly shot to yours, his heart pounding wildly, as you held a damp rag on your hand.

“What the—,” he started to complain, his throat dry and coarse.

“No need to panic. I’m just washing the blood off you,” you explained matter-of-factly, unabashed even.

“My armour, my clothes…” was the only thing he managed to mutter.

“Your armour is now clean, and your clothes are drying over there in front of the hearth. I’ve washed them for you. You’re welcome,” you replied sneeringly, rolling your eyes, as you resumed what you were doing prior to being interrupted by his questioning.

You placed the rag back down on his inner thigh and rubbed, the dried blood coming off his skin albeit with some difficulty. Too fucking close to… Fuck, I rather fucking die. He stopped your hand again, teeth gritting.

“I can do this myself,” Marcus protested.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You think I’ve not seen a naked man before? I’m a widow, Marcus. You don’t have anything I have not seen before,” and then you scrubbed his skin some more, moving upwards and stopping just inches shy of his groin.

Marcus held his breath and closed his eyes, summoning all the self-control he could muster. He really had to focus to reign the most primal reaction a man could have when a woman was touching him. He pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose, jaw clenched, as he started counting backwards from one hundred.

The General needed a distraction — if he thought about your hand so damn close to his cock, he would fucking lose it. Would throw you onto that uncomfortable mattress and would fuck some sense into you for playing with fire. Teach you a lesson or two. Maybe three.

As soon as that thought formed, he had to put it out quickly. One would think that a near-death experience would knock some sense into him, but apparently not. He was a damned man.

Your hand moved around his lap languidly, expertly avoiding his not-so-soft-now dick, and focused on rubbing some blood off his lower abdomen. Then the damp rag moved further south, and his heart climbed up to this throat.

His eyes snapped back open, looking for yours, while his fingers gripped your wrist again.

“Is there no blood anywhere else?” his voice sounded strangled, begging almost, letting go of your hand.

“Nay, I’ve already cleaned the rest of your body. I was saving the best for last, Marcus,” you whispered at the same time the rag dragged along the length of his cock.

Then the palm of your hand flattened against his impending erection, the rag forsaken on his thigh now. The little blood he had left in his veins rushed south the moment your delicate fingers wrapped around the girth of his now-throbbing cock.

You just held him there with a tight grip, eyes never leaving his in defiance. Something sinister flicked in the green of your eyes — something mischievous, lustful even, but something really dark too. Your lips were slightly parted with an intransigent smile.

“How’re you feeling? Any pain?” You dared to ask, as if you weren’t the source of his pain.

Because the only real pain he felt was all gathered on his thudding dick. Feeling his agony, you stroked him once, twice… until you were pumping him decisively, shamelessly. Your thumb caressed his glans, buttering it with his own precum.

A moan tore through Marcus’ chest, rumbling — eyes closed, letting himself rejoice in the moment. Your fingers tight around his thick shaft, putting the right amount of pressure, sent him into oblivion. His erection just became harder and harder, steely as his gladius, under your diligent care.

Marcus felt the tension building up, his balls contracting with equal parts of pain and pleasure. His erection beat rhythmically with his heart — your strokes a blessing in disguise, sent to him to release the pressure building up at the bottom of his spine. You were working him so well, so dextrously, so deliciously, he didn’t know how much longer would he last.

“I wonder if it is as tasty as it looks…” you whispered in his ear as you crouched down a little, your lips grazing his skin.

The mere image of your mouth sealed around his manhood wrecked him. So fucking much, he was close to coming just with one single fucking handjob.

And then the door swung open, making both of you jump on the spot. You quickly removed your hand from his lap and Marcus almost died at the realisation that he would not find relief tonight.

As you turned around on your seat to face the door, you threw a blanket over his lap to disguise what had really been happening.

“Naimh is back,” you exclaimed giddily to him, standing up to greet her in your language.

Fuck Naimh. Kick her out, come back.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87 @mewantpeepaw

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel @pepperstories

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simpingcorner · 2 months ago

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WRECK MY PLANS ONE

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x OC!Isla McCewan; kook!king x pogue Chapter warnings: asshole kooks, English isn’t my first language, trauma(?), kids (idk my friends told me to put it as a tw), swear words, not proofread, let me know if I missed something. WC: 1.456 Disclaimer: All characters are aged up cus I don’t feel comfortable writing about teenagers romance and there’s some really strong themes on here.

All her life she’s known never to cross the big names of the island and all her life she’s been in the shadow, working her ass off everyday since she was a kid, never giving those big names any reason to know of her and, especially, never giving them any reason to get mad at her and have her as their rage target.

The air was different here than in the Cut, it felt better, lighter, it smelled like sea and home cooked meals, which wasn’t all that new but the lack of weed, gasoline and nicotine sure helped the fantasies that this was her life, this was where she lived, who she was and the three young kids running and laughing around her in the backyard filled her heart more than anything ever had before.

It’ll happen, you’ll have the life you deserve, just a few more months and you’re gonna be out of here, never looking back and never having to worry about any of them ever again. Those were the thoughts that lived rent free in her head, dreams and fantasies she deep down knew would never become reality, but what’s the hurt in imagining?

“Isla! Isla! Look what we can do.” The little dark haired boy giggled pushing his sister on the swing giving her the feeling of flying out and about in the sky, “Wow. You know if you push her even faster she might fly over to Bermudas.” She replied smiling at the kids, “I wanna go to Bermudas.” said the girl pouting. “I know you do Luce, mama will take you there one day. I promise.” “I’ll plan everything, and we go for Christmas what you say Luce?” shouted a voice from inside the house, “Gotta ask first Jamesie, you know we can’t just up and go to Bermudas.” “As if they could ever tell her no, come on Is, it’d be vacation for you too, not like mum can’t do it alone.” “What can’t I do alone, James?” the calming voice of Emily Lighthouse came sudden like a rainstorm in the fall to her ears, “Luce wants to go to the Bermudas…” explained the oldest, “And do you know what the Bermudas are baby?” asked the woman picking the still pouting little girl up from the swing. Isla hang back a few moments watching the older woman walk inside followed by her two loving boys, her heart hurt at the scene, her memory blank searching for a moment like that with her parents, a loving parent who’d go out their way to make sure she was safe. One day. As she walked in the house, she had now been working at for the past six years, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wonder around studying the luxury and money this side of the Island showed off like bread to birds. “Sweetheart I asked if you’d like to stay for dinner, I made way too much food for us four only.” Isla’s baby blue eyes widened at the woman’s words, not that it was unusual for her to spend the night at the house, there had been years when she spent more time there than at her own place, but something in her still warmed at the kind request, she knew the Lighthouses weren’t a normal Kook family, they were always nice to her, treating her basically like family, never ever doubting her even when the rest of Figure 8 would go out their way to make her the bad guy. “No, thank you. You enjoy it for me though. I actually have plans tonight.” The girl said quietly, “Well you’ll tell us all about your night another day then. But please take something home. And please be safe they say Agatha’s headed this way.” Isla’s cheeks warmed at the kind words of the rich woman in front of her, she reluctantly accepted the food, got her helmet and jacket and said her goodbyes before closing the door behind her and starting her walk out the neighbourhood.

“Going back to your tree house McCewan?” a deep, unfortunately too familiar voice said in the darkening sunset light, “Look, I’m just leaving, I don’t want any trouble.” said the girl with her head down and her eyes on the pavement, “Oh come on, not even a snarky comment? Where’s the Isla McCewan everyone’s always talking about?” “She’s tired and just wants to go home and sleeps, so can you let me pass.” “But where’s the fun in that then? You know you can always come to my place, it sure as fuck is safer than whatever shit hole you live in.” the brunette kook said walking way too close to the girl, finally caging her between him and the wall behind her, she knew she could have gotten out of there really easily, if there’s one good thing that came out of the Cut it’s knowing how to defend herself, but she was tired of having to defend herself and she knew no matter how bad things turned out to be it was always gonna be her fault, so she simply looked at him hoping he’d let her go with a sudden change of mind. What she didn’t expect was the Kook king to come up to them, “She’s not worth it Gold, trust me girls like her are not as fun as you’d think.” her eyes moved to meet Rafe Cameron’s dilated pupils and she knew he didn’t do it out of the good of his heart, the younger kook looked behind him and left them with a scoff, “One day McCewan, I assure you.” he said before going back in the garage he had came out of.

Isla picked her jacket, that had fallen off her grip and started making her way back to her bike, “Wow, not even a thank you. I knew you Pogues don’t have manners but that’s just low.” the older Kook said walking behind her, “Thank you your majesty Rafe Cameron I’ll make sure to offer you my biggest pig and cow to thank you properly.” she said not even looking behind at him, she simply couldn’t, she knew the rumors, she knew what was being said about him and she had promised herself never to go back there, not to that at least. “You really shouldn’t let that tongue run like that, you never know how people might react.” He said with a grip on her wrist, that wasn’t as tight as he’d wanted it to be, “Also you should really look at the person who’s talking to you, it’s very disrespectful not doing it.” she turned to him, his red eyes bored in her blue ones with something she had never been able to read, “Oh thank you Rafy, you’re my saviour I will never be able to thank you properly, please let me suck you off to show you how grateful I am.” Her words were laced with sarcasm and a poison he knew she only used for and with him, “Come on Cameron go back to your underground bunker and cuddle up on daddy’s lap, I’m sure he wouldn’t want his precious baby out here in such dangerous weather.” his jaw twitched and clenched for a second, “At least I have a dad who cares about me and my safety.” “Keep telling yourself that, maybe it’ll become true.” she said getting out of his grip and finally making it to her bike, once her helmet was on, visor down and the bike had started she let her mind wonder and her throat felt full of thorns as she left Figure 8, Rafe Cameron watching her from afar holding on that conversation.

The lights were out in the little black and grey shed she had to call home, she had left her bike at the Flores’ gate not to make a noise and not to be seen, she opened the door praying whatever god was watching that the house was empty, her heart and breathing the only noises in the house as she walked and closed the door behind her, the room was the same as she had left, mouldy black walls, broken pieces of a dresser and lamps were scattered on the floor, the broken and way too hard yoga mat and her baby blanket the only place where she could sleep. She laid on the mat pulling the blanket over her legs as she stared at the ceiling, a few of her old glow in the dark stars still stand between a mould stain and the other, she watched them, memories of her childhood came to mind as she fell asleep surrounded by the creaks and raindrops noises.

divider from @enchanthings

#outer banks #outer banks netflix #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #obx fic #obx1 #obx2 #obx3 #rafe cameron x oc #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks

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schrijverr · 3 months ago

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I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 7

Chapter 7 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Bobby observes the new probie, curious about this kid as he starts acting out and tossing his career down the drain with stunts like stealing a fire engine or refusing the teen mom access to the ambulance. Meanwhile, Buck and Eddie are both trying to find the new balance of how much they should let go and how much they can still hold on.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (slowburn)

Warnings: insecurity, child endangerment (baby in the pipe call)

~~~

Chapter 7: The Curious Case of the New Recruit

When Bobby offers Evan Buckley a job, he doesn’t think the other will take it. He’s done his training in Texas, broke records there, but not everyone wants to relocate halfway across the country when there are perfectly good jobs nearby. However, Bobby offers anyway, because they can use someone like him on the team. Someone who is younger than the core team they have, still reckless, someone to push them out of their habits and comfort zones.

However, now Buck is here and he’s not entirely what Bobby expected. Sure, he’s hardworking and competent as his paperwork says, also quite impulsive and more than willing to do the crazy rescues, but he has a maturity Bobby didn’t expect and can’t place.

Bobby has observed Buck to be a strange contradiction in a way.

It starts in the first week, Buck has watched Bobby cook a few family meals, when he approaches him while he’s cooking. “Can I help? I’m not an amazing cook, but I know some things and I’d like to get better.”

“You can cook?” Chimney asks skeptically where he is hanging around at the kitchen island, probably hoping to snatch up some snacks as Bobby cooks.

“Yeah, only one in the house that can,” Buck grins as he gives a fond head shake, whoever his roommates are, he doesn’t seem to mind that they don’t contribute to the chore.

Bobby figures that building a good report in the kitchen will be helpful to getting Buck to listen out there, so he happily instates him as sous chef, pleased when it seems he wasn’t lying and is capable of basics such as cutting without it becoming a medical emergency and watching the pans.

The cooking indeed seems to help in Buck listening to him out on the field. It’s a good way to integrate him into the team too, because despite his sociable nature, Buck doesn’t make an extended effort to become a part of the team outside of their job.

Bobby hasn’t realized this, since he tries not to engage with the team outside of the firehouse either, until he hears Chimney say: “He’s doing it again. He always says no or starts tapping on his phone before saying yes. It’s like we’re his second choice and he doesn’t want to come to team bonding drinks.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Chim,” Hen replies with an eye roll.

“Buck doesn’t go out drinking with you two?” he finds himself asking, worried for a moment that Buck might also be in recovery, but too awkward to say, and if he should reach out.

“He does, just says no often enough too and he always has to check before he says yes,” Hen shrugs. “I figure he’s checking if they don’t have a party planned he’d rather go to.”

“Or he has to see if his hook up of the evening is worth it in comparison to us,” Chim grouches. “He probably has enough of them lined up that he can be picky about it, the lucky bastard. You see how they throw themselves at him on calls.”

“But he’s not worrying when you do go out?” Bobby prods.

Hen gives him an understanding look, then shakes her head: “Nah, he drinks a couple of beers, but enough water too. He’s always capable of driving home safely. He drinks pretty responsibly for someone who probably only just tumbled out of party culture and seemingly still lives in a frat house.”

Bobby is glad to hear that and lets it go for now, not wanting to open up himself without it being necessary. Still, he keeps an eye out for worrying behavior, but other than him being too eager to attempt risky rescues and feats of daring, the only thing that is slightly worrying is the amount of flirting he does while on the job.

It hasn’t bled into unprofessional yet, but Buck is teetering on the edge and Bobby is waiting on the moment he steps over and he’ll have to reprimand Buck about it. He wishes the kid would keep it in his pants until he’s off the clock, it’s not as if he has a lot to do then.

Of course, Bobby can’t know that Buck does have a lot to do off the clock.

With Eddie being on the mend and Abuela and Pepa helping, parenting has become easier, but Buck is still part of pick up duty, groceries, chores and family time. He usually doesn’t have to worry too much about it when the others go out drinking because Hen is also on a family schedule, but he likes to make sure Eddie is okay for the night alone with Chris on the days he does want to go out with his team, which isn’t always, since he still loves getting to spend his Diaz boys.

However, Buck has been weaning himself off living that domestic life with Eddie. It’s also the reason he hasn’t mentioned either him or Chris at work, because even if they’re married, he knows it isn’t actually like that. It’s not permanent and being in LA has only solidified that for him.

Eddie is working on regaining his strength, soon he’ll be good enough to apply to the fire academy too, having decided it’s a good sounding job from Buck’s stories and something he actually has transferrable skills for. And he’ll do great. He’ll be a firefighter in no time and Buck knows that Eddie can support Chris from the income, since he himself is doing that right now.

It’s only a matter of time before Buck isn’t necessary as a co-parent anymore. Out here, Eddie can actually meet people he’d want to marry for real and then he’ll divorce Buck and he’ll be just the best friend who babysits sometimes.

Hence the flirting.

Which he does on the job.

It’s stupid to try and preemptively fill the void with flirting, but getting that attention makes him feel better, makes him feel like he could have a life after Eddie – even though he’ll never be able to move on from Eddie – so he basks in it.

But he keeps it on the job, doesn’t take it home. Doesn’t want to miss the time he still has with Eddie and Chris, doesn’t want Eddie to see, just in case, so Buck will always be available to him, should he suddenly fall madly in love with him and want to declare that. Like he said, stupid.

And he keeps checking if Eddie is okay when he is asked to go out with his team, hoping that Eddie will say that he needs him home. Wants him home…

What Buck doesn’t know, is that Eddie has been letting him go, saying yes to him staying out as much as he can. Because he feels guilty, so guilty about keeping Buck there. He can picture him going out, flourishing as a young person in a big city, doing his own thing and not being responsible for a child for a bit.

Eddie wants to hold on, likes the life they have together, but he can’t, because Buck deserves to be a young adult for a bit, to stick around until Eddie can do it on his own and then be free of the harsh truth of being a teen parent, even out of teenagehood.

He doesn’t understand why it’s so hard to let Buck go. Buck was just an easy solution after Shannon left, but he’s made himself at home with Eddie. He has a hard time being around people in general, but being around Buck is so easy. Raising Chris with him is so easy. He wants to keep that, keep Buck, but he knows he can’t keep Buck there either. Not when he deserves so much better than Eddie can give him.

So, he enjoys all the time they do have together, the lazy nights on the couch, the days in the park with Chris, the grocery runs and the chaotic mornings. And when those are over, he lets him go. He lets him go out with the friends he has from work, the work he enjoys doing, even if he started out, because he needed to support Eddie and Chris. He’s not thinking about it. He’s not.

Just like Buck isn’t thinking about how easily Eddie lets him go, more and more as time passes and it goes better and better with him. He’s not thinking about how time is running out. He’s not.

Buck is just maybe also spiraling a little and for him that looks like more and more flirting and a new dating app on his phone. He’s never had the healthiest relationship with sex. And now he’s doing something even more stupid. Stealing a firetruck to have sex on the job kind of stupid.

He knows it’s stupid as he does it and he knows it’s stupid when he comes back, but he’s always been a fake it to you make it kind of guy and these people assume he’s some frat dude, might as well live up to expectations. Buck has always tried to live up everyone’s expectations. Always fucked up too. Bitterly thinks that this is not that out of character for him, being Chris’s papi fits less with his track record than this.

Bobby just thinks he has figured Buck out, when he goes and does this. He knows Buck as someone who cares about his job, maybe a bit more about the thrills than the people they save, but he takes it seriously, even if he can be a little unprofessional when flirted with. To have Buck, who cares so much disregard the job like this is weird and it sets Bobby’s teeth on edge.

And looking at Buck now, shrugging: “Come on, Bobby. See the fire, put out the fire. The rest is blah-blah.” Bobby doesn’t recognize the kid he’s come to know.

He knows that Chimney is correct that he goes easy on Buck, but he can’t help it. Sure, Buck can be a cocky little shit, but not like this. It’s out of character and Bobby feels like he should extend him some grace. Plus, there is just something about Buck that makes Bobby want to help him, especially when this feels more like a cry for help than anything else.

Bobby can’t just reach out and offer help, he is too unworthy to form the connections necessary to do so, but he can go easy on him, can continue to not give up on him. So that’s what he does.

The call they’re on, makes him question if he made the right call. It’s like Buck is a different person as they learn what happened and his compassion for the mom goes flying out the window. Bobby knows calls with kids can be rough and Buck hasn’t been on many yet. Sees in his face that he does not like it one bit that a baby is in harm’s way.

But they’ve been on calls where Buck has been compassionate to people who got others hurt, however, that is gone when he yells: “Is that the mother? No, screw her. Look what she did.”

“She’s a child,” Athena screams back.

“Doesn’t matter, you don’t abandon your kid. You fight for them and you stay. You don’t just leave them, no matter how old you are when you have them,” Buck snarls back, before Bobby can interrupt and force Buck to take the mom too, because he is practically refusing.

In the ambulance he watches Buck with the baby, how much he cares about the little one and how wary he is about letting the mom near the baby. But also how he lets her hold the baby’s hand when she reaches out. It’s as if he wants to protect the baby, but also wants the mother to want the infant.

It strikes Bobby that it may very well be that Buck is taking this call very personally. The words he yelled at Athena stick with him and he wonders if Buck is the kid of a teen mom himself, if he was abandoned and that’s why he is taking this so hard.

Then Bobby realizes he has never heard Buck talk about his parents, or his home life at all. For how open he is about almost everything, he is actually quite the closed book. A mystery. It only adds to his worry about what might be going on with Buck. Because even if that would his explain his behavior on this call, it doesn’t explain the behavior before that.

Again he should be reprimanding Buck, but he can’t bring himself to, he feels too much compassion for the kid. Athena, however, has no such qualms, getting out of her cruiser and storming across the parking lot to confront Buck. “Hey! You do not get to decide who lives and dies.”

“Really?” Buck shoots back, looking cocky, something that is both in character and out of place here. It feels like a mask. “Cause I was under the impression that kind of was my job.”

“That mother was no less of a child than her baby. You’re gonna get someone killed,” Athena tells him.

“She was going to get that baby killed. She had no right to just leave a baby, she could have died in that pipe. You get a kid, you step up,” Buck replies, cockiness falling to reveal anger.

It looks wrong on his face, mentally Bobby adds another point for Buck coming from a teen mom home himself, as he looks at the stranger reflected on the familiar face of their probie.

“That’s not your decision to make,” Athena says, righteous anger in the face of Buck’s attitude.

“Sometimes it is and I know what call I’ll make if it comes to that,” Buck replies, not getting out of her face, but defiantly jutting out his chin.

“And you’ll screw up then, like you nearly screwed up today,” Athena informs him bluntly. “And next time you do that, it’ll be your last.” With that said, she stalks off, clearly done with them, Bobby can’t blame her.

He shares a look with Hen, who is as perturbed by the situation as he is. Buck doesn’t seem to think anything is wrong with how he reacted, despite endangering a young girls life. It’s clear that he thinks he’s right when he says: “What?” when he sees them looking.

There are a hundred things Bobby wants to say, but none of them come out. Buck still looks like that stranger instead of their Buck and Bobby wants to believe that this is a one off that he just needs help and a kind hand. So he just says: “Get in the truck,” ignoring Hen’s judgmental eyebrows about it.

Two days later he truly regrets giving Buck a soft hand. He’d hoped that it would work better with him, seeing how well he does with gentle encouragements in the kitchen, but that clearly hasn’t worked. The teen mom should have been his strike two and stealing the firetruck again to have sex, that is strike three. Buck should be out. Buck is out.

Bobby can’t keep being kind, he has to make the hard choice, has to be fair. He should have said more when Buck flirted with the snake lady, he should have never let it get this far in the first place. He can’t keep covering for Buck’s behavior.

“You’re fired,” he tells him, watching how Buck’s face drops.

“What?” he chokes, voice high pitched. “Wait, that’s not fair. You said I got three strikes.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bobby has decided on his course of action and he is going to stick with it, no more exceptions for Buck even if he looks like a kicked puppy. “You’ve made this choice yourself, and you rubbed it in my face. The same exact infraction two days after I wrote you up. You’re out of line and you’re not taking this job seriously. So you’re out.”

Bobby starts to walk away and Buck feels like he can’t breathe, he’s felt like that since Bobby first told him he was fired, since the baby in the pipe.

He has been spiraling since before that of course, but that call got to him. A kid being abandoned by their mom… He could so easily see Chris in the place of that baby, unwanted by mom. Chris has already been through so much and Buck’s chest feels tight, because at some point he’s going to have to abandon Chris too. He doesn’t want to, but Eddie will divorce him and he’ll go from papi to uncle Buck if he’s lucky and that terrifies him.

So, he spiraled more, internalized it all until he needed something to try and dull the ache. He tried hanging out with his Diaz boys, but that just made him more aware of the count down, the finite time he has left. Which left this as his other coping mechanism.

He is aware that he’s been self destructing, but his self destruction was never – never – supposed to touch Chris and Eddie. Never. And now it has. Buck has fucked it up, screwed up again and now he is going to fuck up Chris’s life early, even though he never meant to do so all.

Before now, he has not felt fear like this and he feels like crying as he pleads: “Wait, Bobby! Bobby, I- I need this job. Please, don’t do this to me. I have people that rely on me and my income, I- I really need this job. At least until the end of my probie year.”

Bobby looks back and Buck looks absolutely devastated. He is again reminded of a kicked puppy and he wants to help Buck, he does. However, he needs to keep his resolve. He can’t keep giving Buck a free pass. Besides, what or who could he possibly be funding?

So, he shakes his head firmly: “No, I don’t care that you can’t fund your little frat house parties anymore, you can find another job. You can disrespect yourself like this, but but you are done disrespecting our firehouse and this fire department.”

“That’s not what I’m funding,” Buck frowns, he looks hurt, though resigned, Bobby vaguely wonders what that is about. “I got a-”

“No,” he cuts him off, “I don’t wanna hear it. I said you’re done.”

And with that he walks away. He drives back in the car he came in, leaving Buck to take down the ladder and drive the engine back to the firehouse. As Buck is doing that, he retreats into his office, not wanting to give the young man a chance to talk him out of it. This is his decision, he should stay firm on it. Though he can’t find it within himself to start on the firing paperwork. Not yet.

He refrains from going out there to watch Buck get changed and pack his stuff, not wanting the other to get a chance to change his mind. Still, he is almost grateful for the call that comes in, giving him a chance to interrupt Hen and Buck talking, wanting to check up on him in some way.

Buck looks defeated. It looks wrong on him. Bobby wants to fix that and that scares him, he has kept to himself for years now. He doesn’t like that he feels responsible for Buck, wants him to do well. Bobby isn’t meant to be alive, to be connected. And he is becoming connected to Buck, feels paternal over him. Cares for him in a way he doesn’t about the other firefighters under his command.

So, he tells himself he made the right call in letting Buck go. He can’t help Buck, it’s not his job and Buck is endangering the people he is supposed to be saving. The ones that will make it right.

Still, he can’t help but ask Hen what their talk was about. Hen shrugs, looking thoughtful. “He really needs his job, says he has people to support.”

“Yeah, right,” Chimney snorts. “Supplying booze isn’t supporting people.”

“I don’t know, he looked serious,” Hen frowns. “He asked how long he’ll keep his insurance, then if he could tell me something.”

Bobby remembers Buck on that roof, saying people depended on him, he’d made the same assumption Chimney did, but now he worries if he was wrong. If there is something more, something to explain his behavior both recently and the maturity he could show that seemed out of place in the rest of his frat boy persona.

He is burning with curiosity about what Buck might have wanted to tell her. But he’ll likely never find out, Buck will be gone when they get back from this call. Life will resume as normal. It’s for the best that way.

Yet, when Hen tells him what she’s done, the second chance she has given Buck on Bobby’s behalf, he can’t help but be grateful.

And he is even more grateful when Athena calls, giving props to Buck for his work. If the woman who was yelling at him two days ago can have a change of heart about him, Bobby has a case to keep Buck there. Then he can justify it to himself.

However, he needs to know Buck has grown from the experience, that he won’t shoot in that cocky, the Devil may care attitude to cover himself. So he doesn’t say a thing and just stands there, watching Buck climb out of the engine.

“I know what this looks like,” Buck tells him. Good, he is aware that what he did is wrong and willing to explain his behavior. Two pluses for Buck.

“Looks like you took the engine out in your street clothes.”

“I didn’t exactly have time to change,” Buck sulks, looking as if he expects to be reprimanded without getting a chance to explain himself. Again.

Bobby feels a stab of guilt and he tries to make up for it by saying: “Sargent Athena Grant called me, wanted to tell me what an asset you are. Told her she was half right.”

“You’re giving me another chance?” Buck asks and he looks so hopeful, so relieved that Bobby can’t help but feel he made the right call. Though the relief niggles something in his brain.

“You’ve used up all your chances,” he still says, watching Buck stiffen, before he adds: “But so have I. Because I have somehow failed to communicate to you how lucky we are to do what we do.”

It makes the most sense to Bobby. Buck is young, this is his first big job, he might not be as aware of what it takes to keep a job and what a responsibility it is. He is sociable and nice enough, but saving people likely isn’t as much of a priority as the thrilling stunts they do to rescue people. He likely only just got comfortable enough here to pull something like this and the fact that it coincided with that baby call is nothing more than a coincidence. But he’s learned from it now.

“You’re wrong,” Buck surprises him. “I absolutely do know what a privilege it is to serve here and I am sorry for not showing that. I love my job and I don’t want to jeopardize it. Ever. I take it very seriously and I will continue to do so.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bobby says, but he knows it’s fond, so he doesn’t look back. “Your shift is not over yet. Go get dressed.”

Then he walks away. Behind him, he hears Buck ask Hen: “Do you think he put in the paperwork yet and I need to be rehired, because that could mess with admin stuff, right?”

“Don’t ask me, only Cap knows that, but I don’t think he filed it yet if he managed to fill it all out,” Hen answers. “By the way, what did you want to tell me, before we got called away?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter anymore now, just wanted to make my case, so you could make it to Bobby, but guess I did that for myself,” Buck replies, cockiness back, but in the usual playful manner of his.

Hen clearly believes him, playfully threatening: “Shove off, probie. You’re still on thin ice.”

However, Bobby isn’t sure if that is the whole truth, the words from the roof and what Hen said in the engine are still ringing in his head, but he doesn’t have any evidence to back it up. Plus, he has no definitive reason to think so with what he has seen in the kid.

Still, it plays on his mind as the two disappear from his hearing range and it rears its head once more when Buck comes into his office a little later, looking a little shy, which is unusual for him. “I, uhm- I wanted to check if you officially fired me or just said it and never got around to it?” Quickly he assures: “Either way I am so happy to have my job back, I just wanted to know if it’ll impact anything, like, uhm- like my insurance?”

As he did to Hen, he is mentioning insurance again. “It won’t affect anything, I never got around to doing the paperwork and I’m not doing the extra work to make a point when you already learned your lesson,” Bobby tells him kindly. To satiate his own curiosity, he adds: “Is there a specific reason you’re asking?”

“Oh, uh, no, Cap,” Buck smiles and Bobby knows he’s lying.

“You can trust me with anything, you know that, right?” Bobby pushes.

Now the smile becomes real and Buck nods: “I know. It’s- it’s private, but it doesn’t effect me in the field. Just want to be on top of everything, you know. Be an adult.”

Bobby wants to push more, get a proper answer, but he has his own skeletons in the closet, he won’t go digging for those of someone else when it doesn’t impact their work. Buck might have a sickly grandma, who raised him or something, that is a dependent. Someone he doesn’t actively care for, but supports financially.

That night, Buck goes home, still shaking a little. Eddie is on the couch, still awake despite it being a god awful hour since his meds make him sleepy so his whole rhythm is thrown off. He smiles when he sees Buck, then frowns when he collapses on the couch next to him, burrowing his face in the couch cushions.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, sounding a little worried as he prods Buck.

He can never know how Buck almost screwed up. How he almost put them in financial trouble and fucked up their insurance; the exact same thing that forced Eddie to sign up for the army. He can’t let Eddie find out that he’s an irresponsible idiot. Can’t give Eddie a reason to kick him to the curb early.

So, he murmurs: “Long day. Rough,” hoping the muffling of the couch pillow will hide the way he lies.

Eddie’s hand appears on his leg, startling him slightly, before he relaxes into the comforting squeeze. The action fills Buck with both fondness and guilt. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Nah,” Buck says, because Eddie will know if he comes up with something. He does free his face from the cushion and rearranges himself on the couch so that he can watch the telenovella Eddie has on.

“Alright, but you can if you want to,” Eddie offers.

Buck’s heart feels just about ready to burst. “Thanks,” he smiles, selfishly allowing himself to bask in this feeling, ignoring how he nearly screwed it all up and how some day he is going to lose it. He is not going to risk anything like that again. He’ll deal differently.

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thebluemoonjune · 8 months ago

Text

New Beginnings (Richonne One-shot)

A pregnant Michonne is ready to welcome the new year with her family, Rick, Carl and Judith. She is thankful to where they have reached and hopeful for better days ahead. A New Year's Richonne oneshot. No saviour arc, no Negan.

A joyful new year always began with the sharing of meals and desserts that spoke to people's spirits. Additionally, we shared them with family and friends, demonstrating that our blessings were also theirs.

They called for a home to belong to a community, comfort, food, and safe water. They both required a secure haven for their well-being and for their existence to have meaning: a utopia rather than hell on earth. They owed it to each other and their precious children to fight back against an entity that could devastate everything, that turned friend against friend and separated them in innumerable ways. They were a family and a team that were prepared for the future and now that they had it, they'd protect it. A new year.

A new life does not begin with a gift wrapped in colourful bows and the promise of security, but rather as a path through the unknown with a degree of fog and frost. As a result, it requires a determined heart to seize it, daring feet to traverse it, and a brave sight to remain alert to its curves along with its peaks and valleys. If there were any other way, people would not live such lacking lives from birth to death. To achieve more, one must accept the feeling of danger and risk as one strives for the far distance. The world at large had been devastated and transformed. It had fewer people in it. So many people perished, yet it didn't stop life from going on. As she watched Judith play with Gracey, Michonne stroked her full-term stomach. One day at a time—that's how they took it.

“Did you get the black eye bean?”

“Yep. Now you ain’t gotta rip my head off for it.”

“I’m not that bad!” Michonne watched her husband tilt his head to the side, eyebrows raised to the sky. “Okay, maybe a little, but just a little… My mom used to cook on New Year's for good luck… I want us to start our new year right.”

“Carl always hated beans—beans of any kind.”

“Well, he eating it today. Judith too. No one and I mean no one, is getting off.”

“Yes, ma'am!” He chuckled at her. “You know, you never talked about your mom much, or both your folks for that matter.”

“I never realised…”

“Is it painful?” The couple stared at each other till Michonne broke the silence.

"No, not anymore… My mother was upbeat, opinionated, and the ultimate decider of everyone's life journey... Like any good army drill sergeant, she planned what to do, the schooling, and the fun that followed. Did I ever mention that I was homeschooled?"

"No."

“I was… till I was eleven years old.”

"I could see that. She was a drill sergeant?"

"No, but she acted like one." Michonne laughed, stoking her stomach, before cracking a weary smile. "She was actually a writer; children's books... Strange, huh?"

"Nah... makes perfect sense..." His eyes softened. "She made you."

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment, Rick…”

“It’s a compliment.” He couldn't take his sight off her.

"I hear you… My father did nothing but work: work at his job, work on the house and work on getting enough sleep so he didn't fall asleep on the way to his firm. He inspired me to become a lawyer. He would sometimes grin or laugh, and when he did, the world brightened for those brief minutes. Then he'd fall back into his whirlpool of worry."

“He sounded a lot like my old man.”

“He probably was… They were good parents—not perfect but good enough. That’s all they can hope—that we can hope.”

“We’re doin' fine and we’re gonna do a whole lot better.”

“Alright, whatever you say, old man. Don’t you have to help, Daryl? Don’t keep him waiting.”

“I can cancel, stay with you… Ain’t no big deal.” Pulling her closer, he planted a longing kiss on her lips, causing her to giggle when he finally broke away.

“No, you go. I just have the peas left. By that time, you should be all done and you can fetch Carl from Edith and Judy from terrorising Hershel and Gracey.”

“Soon she’ll have someone else to nag… You sure you’re right? You been out of it since yesterday.”

“I’m fine, Rick you worry too much… They’ll be here soon, any day now. It’s normal.”

“I never thought this would happen again, for us.”

“We deserve it, Rick... A new beginning, as you said… Now go.” Rick planted a kiss on her forehead, then her belly, before she turned from him to continue the preparation of their celebration meal.

“If anything happens, send for me. I’ll come to you as soon as possible, Okay?”

“Go! I send for you.”

Regardless of his wife's words, he couldn’t help but stall and linger at the kitchen exit. She was late in her pregnancy and he wanted to treasure every second till the baby arrived. He was thirsting to be by her side. They never expected to ever have this. He never thought she’d allow herself the chance after all that had happened in the past. However, she gave him one and gave their family one as well. After being hit with a side eye, he managed to make his way to Daryl. When they completed their duty at hand, he fetched Carl and Judith to go home.

…

The family of four placed themselves in their seats for lunch after Michonne snatched Carl to help her set the dining table. Rick took Judith into his lap, knowing that he’d have to feed her since she was even more picky than Carl.

“Since we're here, I think we should say what we’re thankful for… and our hope for the future.” Michonne’s eyes never left her boys for one second. “ Carl?”

“I just want things to be the same as always and I’m thankful we’re all here.”

“Me too, Son.” Grinning at Carl’s answer, Rick leaned over to rub his head.

“Did you say ‘me too’ to not come up with something different, Grimes?”

"Maybe, but I mean it. You know that.”

“Well, I know that… I’m thankful that I found you. I’m thankful for getting me out that day, even if you were an asshole afterwards.”

“In my defence, I didn’t know you well yet, and I still kept you around when I sent the others away. That’s gotta count for somethin', right? After all, we were the same.”

“You didn’t know or trust me, but that didn’t stop you from checking me out, did it?”

“You noticed that?”

“Judith and I are still here, you know?” They both crackled at their son’s embarrassed distaste for the current topic but kept going.

“You not kicking me out is part of the reason I put up with your behaviour.” Rick sighed at her pettiness. “Us being the same and me longing to stay with you guys is another part as well, though I didn’t realise that last part just yet... Carl?”

“Yeah?”

“You and Judybug saved me. You don’t know how much you two did. Thank you for making me one of you and thank you for being my best friend and not letting me chicken out… You gave me a second chance, all three of you and I love you so much for it… What I want is all of you safe and sound and happy, and by my side. The baby included, of course. Thank you for giving me back my family.”

Her eyes welled up with tears of unfathomable affection. The happiness dripped from her eyes and they were soon all overcome with shared emotion. It was such a warm, heart-gripping moment, only disrupted by Michonne's booming grunt of pain. At that moment, she came to face the fact that she’d been having contractions all day. Part of her was in denial, only being focused on celebrating New Year's the right way with her family. She stood up, grabbing the tablecloth, and Rick understood immediately. He knew she was acting weird.

"Carl, go grab Siddiq!”

“It’s happening now?”

“Yeah! Go!”

…

Childbirth has always been risky. It makes little difference that it is natural. It is also quite natural for a mother or baby to die. That is why they had made so much progress in medicine for safe childbirth. Michonne and the infant were in far more danger now that the world had changed. Rick became aware of a massive natural birth occurring at his feet. It had struck him, just now. Panicked and fearful, he still stayed by her side. It was his job as a father and a husband. No matter how hard it was on him mentally, she was having it a thousand times worse. She was the one in pain; she was the one in danger. He sat behind her and supported her back with every push, encouraging her whenever she began to falter.

“Rick!” She cried out in search of unconscious comfort for her partner-in-crime.

“I’m here, darlin'; I’m right here! You’re doing great!”

“Why did I think this would be easier the second time around?”

“Because you’re amazing; that’s why! You’re doin’ great!”

They traverse till the drawing of beautiful angel breath, serenaded by freedom. A sign of their baby's existence.

…

A happy new year was partly about starting again and partly about being grateful for all the blessings that had been granted the previous year. It was a warm welcome to new fortunes and the courage to confront problems gracefully and compassionately. Rick stared at his family as their attention fell to the newest member; his son from his departed first wife and his adopted daughter. They had fought so hard and lost so much to ensure they made it. reminding him of the bad, his mind ran to his dear, long gone friend Hershel, and his words to him,

'Things break, but they can still grow. These little bristles, they'll take root,'.

His wife was spent but she still held a peaceful smile on her face, gawking at their son swaddled in her arms, the first biological child between the two of them. Judith slipped her finger into his outstretched palm and watched as the tiny body curled around it. His gentle breath touched the back of her hand. Her playful day already slipping away as she observed her new brother.

Rick was going to speak again when Carl spoke first.

“We can’t use fireworks to celebrate but we do have the sparklers! It’ll be nice just to have something, right, Judy?”

“Yeahhh!”

“Alright, you two go now. I’ll keep Michonne and the baby company.”

Carl took Judith after she planted a kiss on her new baby brother and off they went. Michonne, feeling her husband’s eyes on her, allows their gazes to meet. They both knew this was what they struggled and fought so hard for. It wouldn’t be easy but year after year, he would make sure his children—all three of them—lived the best life, a full life. Michonne stretched out her hand.

“Rick…” Her words were weary and had a dream-like quality to them, as she seemed to crave the solace of rest, the enticement of the nice bed beckoned to her tired body.

“Darlin, what's wrong? Uncomfortable? Tell me, I’ll get it…” She shook her head, confusing him.

“His name; I have it.”

“Yeah?” His tone was gentle as he lowered his body next to her and she placed their newborn in his arms. “What is it?"

“RJ. Richard Daniel Grimes Junior... Do you like it?”

“I grateful…” Rick's eyes grew damp. He didn’t expect her to name their little boy after him. “You sure?”

“I’m sure… He’ll be as smart, sweet and determined just like his namesake… Just like his dad.”

“Thank you.” Bending over, as he kissed her forehead and whispered into her ear.

“No, thank you.”

#rj grimes #richonne fandom #michonne grimes #judith grimes #carl grimes #richonne #richonne fic #richonne fanfiction #rick x michonne #Rick Grimes #Michonne

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a-crumb-of-whump · 2 years ago

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A New Beginning #16: Burns

Masterlist | AO3

Content: Recovery, burns, vampire whumpee, childhood trauma, multiple caretakers, non-sexual nudity, wounds/injuries, PTSD/trauma, begging, blood [for the sake of feeding].

Carlos was insistent on cooking the two humans breakfast this morning. Neither of them could figure out why until the vampire excitedly skipped into the room with a plate of freshly made pancakes in his hand.

“These look incredible,” Adam commented as the vampire set the plate down in between them. He glanced up at him and smiled, already serving himself two. “What’s the occasion? You tryna butter us up before you tell us you did something terrible?”

Much to his surprise, Carlos’ eyes widened and he rushed to defend himself. “No! Of course not, sir. I would never misbehave.”

While he used one hand to serve himself his own food, Ryker reached out to squeeze Carlos’ arm. “You’re all good, man. He was just joking.”

“Oh.” Carlos blinked a few times. “I’m… I’m not sure I understand jokes all that much, sir. I’m sorry, but- but about the pancakes; I found a recipe book while I was looking through the bookshelf last night!”

He seemed so proud of himself as he hurried off to grab said book from the kitchen. The humans watched him go, both with a forkful of pancake in their mouth already, and smiled when he came back holding a large recipe book that had been created and given to the boys back when they first left home. It was old and the pages were wrinkled by now, but it’d been unbelievably helpful when they had no idea how to cook.

“I wanted to practice my reading,” the vampire admitted as he held the book out towards them. “I never got to do much of it, back, uhm… before. Then I found this, and it has pictures in it and the recipes are very fun! It even shows you how to put smiley faces on the pancakes.”

Adam grinned. “I saw that! These are delicious, Carlos. You get better and better every time you cook.”

“Really?” Carlos visibly lit up. “Thank you! I know I am not the best at expressing my feelings, but I really want to show you how grateful I am to be living here with you both, and Murphy and Luca. So… uhm, consider my meals appreciation gifts?”

Using his foot, Adam pulled one of the spare dining chairs towards him and patted the seat with a smile. “I’m glad you’re happy. Come sit with us for a bit? I actually have something I wanna talk to you about. You’re not in trouble,” he made sure to assure him. The worried look on Carlos’ face dissipated and he obediently did as he was told, still holding the book close to him. “Have we ever told you about my sisters?”

“I don’t think so.” Carlos shook his head, fiddling with the corners of his book as he watched the two men eat. Ryker smiled over at him for a brief moment while Adam talked, cheeks stuffed with pancake in a way that made the vampire grin.

“They’re very nice. Sorta the reason we were able to leave and get on our feet in the first place. They bought us our plane tickets and gave us some old furniture until we were able to get some of our own. Even paid our rent for a while so we could find jobs.”

“That’s so nice,” Carlos whispered, glancing down at his lap. “Sometimes I forget that you and Ryker aren’t the only people in the world who don’t want to hurt others.”

Adam gave him a small smile, reaching out to squeeze his knee. “Well, they’d like to plan a trip down here for a few days. Ryker and I have already decided that we want them to come, but as you’re a part of the family now, we wanted to get your permission.”

“You don’t have to ask me, sir. It’s your house.”

“You live here, too, man,” Ryker was quick to point out. After another small forkful of pancake, he set his knife and fork down on the plate and cleared his throat. “Your opinion matters to us.”

There was a small pause as Carlos thought about it a little deeper. Both Adam and Ryker resumed eating as he did so, and it was only when he looked up as an indication that he was ready to talk again that they both diverted their attention back to him once more.

“I appreciate your consideration,” he whispered, his voice returning to that small, timid one he often used. “I don’t think it will easy, but I don’t want you to miss out on seeing the people you love because of me. So, let them stay? They can even take my bedroom if they wanna. I can sleep on the couch.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Ryker commented, reaching out to squeeze Carlos’ shoulder, “but they’ll most likely take the couch. It folds out into a bed and they’ll be bringing their own bedding.”

Carlos offered the two humans a smile. “Okay. I can’t wait to meet them, then. Will you tell me when they’re coming?”

“Of course,” Adam nodded. “We don’t know all the details just yet but I promise, we’ll let you know when we do. On the off chance that we forget, you are more than welcome to ask again. Sound good?”

Carlos was happy with what had been arranged. As he stood up again and ran his hand over his head, he gave the two humans an enthusiastic nod; resting his free hand on Ryker’s shoulder. The human didn’t hesitate to tilt his head back and smile up at him.

“Yes, sir,” he agreed, the recipe book still held close to his chest. “Sounds good. Thank you for including me in the decision.”

It clearly wasn’t often he got to have a say in matters. Adam had known that, but not to the extent. From what he could tell, Ryker seemed to leave out parts of what Carlos had gone through when they spoke about it. He felt like he was learning something new about Carlos every day, even on the days where the topic of his past didn’t even come up.

He wondered if that’s how Ryker felt about him when they first met.

After another minute or two, Carlos excused himself from the table and left to take a shower, leaving the book he’d so fallen in love with in his spot for someone to put away later on. It was only after he’d left that Ryker reached out to grab his empty plate and cutlery, leaning over the table to press a light kiss to his forehead as he went.

“I don’t know what your schedule is like, but I have next weekend off if you wanna invite them over then?” he suggested over the sound of plates being stacked on top of each other. “There’s a few nice places open during the evenings - we could even take them out for dinner and bring Carlos along.”

Adam couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? He’s not fond of crowds and loud noises - that’s pretty much all restaurants are. It’s not like he can even eat anything.”

“It was just an idea,” Ryker shrugged as he stood up. He picked up the plates and the cutlery before heading off to the kitchen, still talking as he went. “Maybe not a good one, but it was an idea.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, I just think we might need to pick a place that’s more quiet. Like… I dunno, the park or something. I wanna make sure it’s enjoyable for all of us, not just the humans.”

For a moment, everything was silent apart from the sound of the dishwasher being stacked with dishes. Adam almost began to wonder if he was even going to receive a response, until Ryker finally poked his head out with a smile.

“I know you do. Look, It’s not for another week at least. So, we don’t need to decide on anything right now, yeah?”

Adam considered his words before nodding, absentmindedly tracing small lines into the dining table with his nails. “Yeah. Okay. I guess I’ll send ‘em a message before I leave for work.”

“Sounds good, my love.” Ryker sat back down at the table as he wiped his hands on his jeans. For the life of him, Adam couldn’t understand why he was so against using the many tea-towels they had sitting in the cupboard. He’d done it ever since they got together, and it never failed to confuse him. “What time are you heading off today?”

Adam thought about it for a moment, trying to remember what was on his roster for that week. However, before he could even begin to get the words out, a shrill scream erupted from the bathroom that had both humans jumping out of their seats within seconds.

They only needed to be at the entrance to the hallway to figure out what had happened, and Adam was mortified by what he knew in an instant was his fault.

He hadn’t closed the blinds in the bathroom that morning.

Carlos couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a burn so bad. Much to his relief, it had only been a few seconds, but even such a short amount of time was enough to cause blistering and swelling across his entire front area. His biggest regret out of it all was not wearing clothes to the bathroom. It was just across the hall from his bedroom, so he hadn’t thought it’d be a problem. However, every second he spent in pain was another reminder that he’d been so very wrong.

With a raspy inhale, he pressed his back against the cool wall behind him and tearily glanced up at the humans hurrying down the hallway, forcing himself to swallow any more noises that threatened to escape. He was in so much pain.

He realised after a moment that Ryker had a blood pack and an ice pack in his hands as he knelt down beside him. “Hey, you’re all good, man. It’s- I know you’re in a lot of pain, but this isn’t gonna last more than a few days, yeah? It’s not gonna take weeks to heal anymore.”

That sounded good.

The human pressed the ice pack in his hand against the worst of Carlos’ burns, and he could have sworn he saw him gag a few times at the smell of his burning flesh. It was that or the sight of him, and he wasn’t sure which he preferred.

“Hurts,” he found himself whimpering after a moment. He reached out to grab hold of Ryker’s shirt; struggling to get away from the discomfort of the ice against his skin, and the sweltering heat on his body at the same time. “Hurts. Why does this hurt so much?”

He’d spent so many years trying to desensitise himself to pain. How could a mere month without it be enough to undo all his hard work? He wasn’t supposed to cry. He wasn’t supposed to make noise or complain about it. He was supposed to take it as it came and be good until it stopped.

So why was such a simple rule so hard to follow all of a sudden?

He could see the look of confusion written on Ryker’s face as he struggled to understand the question. He had no idea what part of it was so hard to understand, but the question clearly made no sense to him. He seemed to choose not to respond to it, and instead focused on picking him up in a way that minimised the amount of pain it caused.

Before he knew it, he’d been moved back to his bedroom and set down on the bed, above the covers to avoid irritating his wounds. Having heard the commotion, Murphy was now in the room as well, while Luca had likely gone to hide somewhere more quiet.

Carlos just wanted the pain to end.

“Hey.” Ryker nudged him after putting Murphy on the outside of the door. He offered a small sympathetic smile and held out the blood packet to him. “We bought these a while ago in case you needed some more blood throughout the day. I know you’re in a lot of pain, so perhaps the extra blood’ll help with the healing process?”

“Please,” the vampire practically begged. “Yes please. I’m sorry.”

As soon as it was handed to him, Carlos sank his fangs into the packet and drank the entire thing in one go, ignoring Ryker’s concerned reminders to take it slow before he inevitably choked on it.

Then, once it was all gone, he shakily gave it back to the human sitting beside him and sniffled; rubbing his eyes like a child. “Hurts so much,” he whispered, tilting his head to the side after lying back again so he could look the human in the eye. “It’s so much worse than I remember.”

“I’m sorry.”

There were so many things Carlos wanted to say, and yet he felt like he couldn’t say any of it. It was near impossible to form words with how much everything hurt. Every breath made his skin feel like it was being stretched beyond Its limits, and his hands shook as he held the ice pack against the same wounds Ryker had been before.

“...I don’t want you to be here,” were the first words he spoke after the pain began to settle into a dull throb. He sniffled, watching as the human’s face somehow fell even more. He knew how awful those words must have sounded. He’d heard them more times than he could count, but he truly had no more energy to elaborate. “Please. Please understand, sir.”

Ryker reached out to grasp his hand. “No one did this to you on purpose, Carlos.”

“Please?” Carlos tried again. He sucked in a tight, raspy breath and squeezed Ryker’s hand as best he could; doing his best to ignore the way his body ached in protest at even the small movements he made. “Please go? I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t…”

Ryker’s confusion only seemed to get a whole lot worse. “It’s not the first time.”

“I know. I didn’t have the choice to stop that from happening, b-but I do now and I want you to go. Please. I’m not mad at you,” he tearily shook his head. “I could never be mad, but if you really say that I’m in charge of my own body and- and that I get to have an opinion, like you and Adam, then you’ll listen to me.”

Granted, Carlos could see him hesitating. He averted his eyes towards his lap rather than at him and started to fiddle with the bottom of his sweatshirt, occasionally chewing on the inside of his cheek. Carlos had never felt worse. Perhaps he just wasn’t meant to make his own requests.

“As long as you’re not mad at me,” the human eventually mumbled as he got out of his seat. “Can I at least send Adam in here to check on you throughout the day? It would make me feel a lot better knowing someone is looking after you.”

“Yes, sir.” He could live with that. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“Done nothin’ wrong. You’re all good.” Ryker bent down a little to affectionately nudge his shoulder. “Feel free to come and hang in the living room when you’re ready, yeah? Everything’ll be shut so you don’t have to worry about the sun.”

Carlos gave him a small nod, already feeling himself reverting back to old habits before he could stop himself. “Yes, sir.”

Both Ryker and Adam had originally been planning on going out for lunch that afternoon, but it was an unspoken agreement that neither of them felt like leaving the house anymore. Adam went to see the vampire in short fifteen minute bursts, occasionally bringing him some extra blood in hopes that it would help with healing. By the time he was finally feeling well enough to leave his room, the humans had eaten dinner and it was well and truly night.

Ryker had taken to gaming out in the living room after Adam fell asleep in their bedroom. All the lights were off, so the TV was the only thing that provided any light, and he was curled up inside a blanket from the closet while several of his favourite stress toys sat in his lap. He wasn’t sure he’d experienced anxiety this bad in quite a while. It felt like he was drowning in it, and it was preventing him from doing anything other than sitting there and wallowing in it.

In fact, it took him several minutes to even realise that Carlos had sat down beside him. It wasn’t until the vampire gently touched him on the arm that he jumped; inevitably disrupting the two sleeping animals who’d been lying beside him since he sat down.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos apologised, looking almost just as surprised as he was. “You looked so invested in your game, I wasn’t sure if you’d hear me.”

Ryker paused his game with a small wave of his hand and set his controller down on the coffee table. “You’re all good. I just wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow, is all. How’re you feelin’?”

The vampire gave him a smile. “Better. My burns don’t hurt as much. I think they’ll be better by tomorrow.”

“Yeah? That’s great, man.”

After a small silence had passed, Ryker slowly started to unravel himself from his blanket before lying it across his lap instead. He then lifted it up as an invitation for Carlos to join him and grinned when the vampire shuffled over without hesitation.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he whispered as he crossed his legs beneath himself. He still seemed to be in some pain, but the fact that he could move at all meant that he was getting better. He was grateful that they’d bought those extra blood packs for emergencies. “Adam said you were having some anxiety. Was that caused by me? When I asked you to leave?”

Ryker thought about lying. He thought about telling him that it was just general anxiety, or that something had happened at work while he was away, but that felt wrong to do. Surely he was past the point where he felt the need to lie like that?

“A little,” he eventually admitted. During his little pause, he offered Carlos one of his stress toys and found himself smiling when the vampire took it. “I feel like an idiot because I know you told me you’re not, but I guess I’m still convinced that you’re upset with me. That you asked me to leave because I did something wrong.”

“Please don’t call yourself that.” He reached out to hold Ryker’s hand with his free one. “I feel that way a lot, too, when people use a certain tone or use certain words when they’re talking to me. It’s scary not being able to tell what someone’s true intentions are.”

Ryker took a moment to respond. “Yeah… So, you’re really not upset with me?”

“Not at all,” Carlos shook his head. He gave him a warm smile, fingers still holding onto the human’s hand tight. “You took care of me so much when you were a kid. You saw my body in states that should have been horrifying to someone of such a young age, and yet after a while you didn’t even seem to care. I hated it, and now that I’ve got a choice, I’m choosing to save you from having to experience it again.”

Truth be told, Ryker still thought about a lot of the things he’d seen Carlos be put through when he was a child. He hardly ever spoke to anyone about it, Adam included, but it had haunted him for years. There was even a period of time where he remembered blaming Carlos for his trauma, though that thankfully lasted no more than a few months. He knew it wasn’t Carlos’ fault. There was no one to blame but his parents.

Ryker finally nodded, though he didn’t exactly agree with him. “Thank you. You… you know I’m not a kid anymore, though, right? I know you feel bad for not always having the ability to protect me as a kid or whatever, but I’m giving you permission to let that go. I’m not upset about it, nor do I resent you, so there’s no reason for you to either.”

Before Ryker could look up to see why it had suddenly gone quiet, Carlos had shuffled over even more and wrapped his arms around the human’s neck in somewhat of an awkward hug. He held on tight, seemingly forgetting once more that his strength was much more prominent that it used to be, but Ryker couldn’t bring himself to mind. It was just another reminder that things were slowly getting better.

For both of them.

Taglist:@alexkolax @emcscared-whumps @espresso-depresso-system @inkkswhumpandstuff @pigeonwhumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @roblingoblin285 @sacredwrath @some-thrilling-heroics @stabby-nunchucks @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @trans-writes @whump-blog @whumpsday @whumpshaped @whump-things @whumpycries @whumpdreamz @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thekittyburger @choppedflowermuffinchild

#whump #whump stuff #whump things #whump thoughts #whumpee #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #caretaker #multiple caretakers #anb writing

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nerdgirlnarrates · 9 months ago

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Sometimes it’s hard being the only one with medical training in my family. My mother and I are visiting my grandfather this weekend. He lives out of state, so I haven’t seen him in several months. Immediately I could tell he was cachectic—the temporal wasting stood out before he mentioned losing almost 70 lbs in six months. He says he doesn’t have much appetite anymore. He also can’t cook for himself though and says he doesn’t like the food he’s served. I tried to bring up his weight loss, and it kinda got waved off—it’s too hard to coordinate a meal plan with his rotating caregivers, he’s just old, etc. I don’t necessarily wanna raise hell about this, cause if it’s an underlying medical problem I don’t think he’d opt for treatment—he doesn’t enjoy his life much anymore. It’s hard to say for sure what’s going on especially when I can’t get a good medical history; I’ve asked for access to his MyChart portal a few times, and people agree, but then I never actually get the password. I think my asking is viewed as encroachment since I’m out of state and probably wouldn’t be the one to personally help out, even if I identified a problem. There’s already a lot of resentment between my mom and her sister over who’s supposedly helping or not helping, and I don’t want to inflame tensions further. So I never really know what his medical team already knows, if an intervention is already in place, etc. Still, every time I visit he has noticeably deteriorated. It’s really hard to be so aware of how bad his clinical picture is without being able to address it. And I am really worried about the wasting.

One good thing I’ve noticed though is that PT has improved his life enormously. He lost a lot of mobility last summer after a stroke, and now he’s doing much better using his walker and maintaining his posture. He’s quite proud of his progress. So at least that’s really nice to see.

#i’m struggling to decide what to do about this #I don’t wanna raise hell because I can’t take him to appointments and I worry it will just make people mad #I don’t think they’ll follow up #but I feel like they get worked up about all the wrong stuff #and I can’t course correct #idk it just sucks

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protags-fic-blog · 1 year ago

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hello friend I have a need so could I please ask for amnesia domestic headcanons? I know you write for other fandoms and you get this one requested a lot but it’s the only game I’ve played (tho varibari is backlogged haha)

Want to send in a request? Always open! For more, check out my masterlist

anon plz play varibari it is the funniest game I’ve ever played. the way Ichiya has such a hold on me. they really picked the 4 stupidest men and put them all together and the shenanigans! tsumugi is literally the otome fandom wrapped up into one person. Either you’ll love it or hate it, but out of all the otome I’ve played, while it’s taken longer, I definitely think it’s up in my top 3

And don’t worry about the frequency of requests for amnesia! It was the first official otome that I ever finished (sorry code realize you’re really long) and have a lot of fond memories associated with it. It’s the main reason I started this blog. Besides, Amnesia is pretty much the only one I don’t write in my spare time so I don’t mind getting in practice. If people request it from me, it must mean i’m doing something right! Headcanons are under the cut! ———

Amnesia Memories - Domestic Life

———

Shin

Probably moves in with you when you both are in university

Doesn’t expect you to do any of the cooking, especially doesn’t expect you to do anything not just for yourself, but when you do stuff for him it makes his heart melt

If you cook for him?? Omg. Down so bad. He may not like it (and may be vocal about his opinions) but he always appreciates it

He knows how to cook and he’s good at it too

Large breakfasts after intimate nights

Maybe wouldn’t want kids but he wants a dog very badly. I can see him with a bigger dog like a great dane or a german sheph

Toma

You are in fact his trophy wife. Would marry you so fast

Living like a 50’s family. He goes to work as a lawyer, you tend to stay home

You cook, you clean, you basically make him fall in love with you all over again

He always hates coming home late—if he could stay home with you all day, he would

If you had kids??? Omg. Sees your kids as an extension of you and loves them so much. If they were kids you had together, even better because he sees them as being born from the love between the two of you

Tries to go grocery shopping with you whenever he can. You usually have a list of ingredients for the week. He never seems to guess the meals that you have planned.

Kent

Utter chaos

Lack of communication may lead to you both doing the same thing

He washes the sheets one day, you do it the next, even if they’re clean, or you bring something home for dinner while he’s cooking something, stuff like that

But you always work it out

Knows how to cook but not how to season. It’s a work in progress

He’s definitely learning a lot of life advice from you

Probably lots of plants. His are flourishing. Yours are too….. But only because he’s helping them. He doesn’t tell you.

Ikki

Expect him staying over at your place a lot

Sometimes ends up getting a little bit drunk when he’s alone. You try to always visit him when he does

Those nights are the ones that you always remember. He has no filter and his compliments aren’t as flowery and more raw

Late nights when you’re together. The later in to the night, the tighter he holds you

When you finally move in with him, he’s elated. He’s wanted this for a long time

The moment you move in, he stops having Kent over and instead hangs out with him in different places. He wants his home to belong to him and you, his private little love nest

Does all the cleaning. He wants you to love being in his home more than anywhere else, since he doesn’t enjoy going out in public a lot

Can’t cook. Expect getting food from outside the house or premade meals on nights that he’s tasked with providing food

Lots of date nights. Usually he’ll order from a fancy restaurant nearby and ask for the food to be brought over and he’ll set up some flowers and candles. If not, he picks a dim restaurant where couples tend to go so he won’t be swarmed and ruin the night

Ukyo

Cottagecore bliss

When you finally settle down somewhere, it would be in his grandfather’s old home

He’s almost always home with you, and when he’s not home because of travel, he usually brings you along

You are his muse

Likes the idea of owning a horse… so he’s put aside a bit every month, and tried to prepare dinner inside the house instead of taking you out so he can buy one. There’s a jar somewhere labeled ‘horse fund’

He does in fact dream of having you hold on to him as you ride through a meadow

May not end up happening…personally I think that money ends up going to a dog or a cat (that you have sent through training to be an emotional support animal so he won’t be sad without you)

Lets you braid his hair

Muffled ‘i love you’s whenever you cuddle up

#amnesia memories #protag-writes #shin amnesia #ikki amnesia #ukyo amnesia #toma amnesia #kent amnesia #tumblr is being so means I’m sorry this took like 3 days

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absurdthirst · 2 years ago

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I want to know if I am overreacting. Can I please have some advice?

I am a 23 year old female. I live at home with my parents and I don’t work nor go to school since my anxiety and depression make it hard for me. Instead I keep up the house. I cook and clean everything about 95% of the time, I help homeschool and babysit my nephew at least 5 days out of the week, and I am at anyone’s beck and call if they need me. Especially my grandparents.

My sister & BIL have just had a baby and being in their home has been hard, especially since my sister has developed PPD, so they have decided to sell it. Their initial plan was to get an apartment near our house and then buy another house a little later. They even asked my dad for money to help fix up their house before selling it. We were all for that plan since we hated that house since they first got it. So to us it was a relief.

But then a week later their plans changed. Instead they want to buy an RV and park it in our backyard so they can live back there. My dad said it was fine and they immediately started making plans for that. And I immediately went insane. Just the thought of the living dynamics fucked me up. I was just completely against it. I tried to get my dad to take it back but they have basically steamrolled their plan and want to be out of their house and moved into my grandmas house in two weeks before eventually getting the RV.

I love my sister and my nephew and my new baby niece but I despise my BIL. He’s immature and just plain obnoxious. I can’t imagine having to see them everyday. Especially because they are so irritating.

And the thing about my sister and BIL is that ever since they’ve gotten together they continually have pushed responsibilities that should be theirs onto me. Specifically when it comes to my nephew. They constantly let him come over for days at a time without saying when they’re picking him up. They made the decision to homeschool him two months ago, but lately I’ve the one that’s picked up the slack on that end. In turn, since my nephew spends so much time with me and because I practically helped raise him up until he was 5, he’s so attached to me and doesn’t leave me alone and it’s so overwhelming. I know it’s not his fault but I feel like I’m still a parent to him even though he has two capable adults that already are his parents. I can’t imagine how it’ll be when they move into the backyard.

I fear they will let him come into the house whenever he wants so they don’t have to be responsible for him. I fear they’ll be even more lazy about homeschooling him. I fear that they will expect me to cook all the meals for them and help clean their RV. Especially since they have no problem taking food sometimes when I cook dinner. I fear they’ll come into the house and get whatever they want and make whatever plans they want because that’s how they already are. It’s just so overwhelming. I feel like my safe space is being invaded.

My home, whenever they are not here, is a nice and quiet safe haven from them and the responsibilities I have with my nephew and I fear them moving so closely is going to make me combust. My mom isn’t too keen about the arrangements either but she says just talking out some boundaries will do the trick to keep them to themselves. But I highly doubt that.

Am I over exaggerating? Am I being paranoid or do I have some valid reasons to worry? I’ve told my mom that I will try and see how the living arrangements will hold up but if I can’t take them I’m considering moving to MX with family members to get away from them. At least until they buy their house.

(PS. That’s the thing also. They haven’t given an estimated time of when they’ll start looking for a new house or buying land or whatever they’re planning. They just plan whatever, involving everyone help of course, and then expect us all to go along with it. It’s happened so many times already. I’m just so tired of them)

((PPS. I also know that It could be good for my sister to be close since she has PPD. I don’t want to be insensitive about that. But I feel like them getting an apartment close to us would be good enough. We could go and help her anytime she needs. Our schedules would align that she won’t ever be alone for a long time. Not more than an hour. IDK I also feel guilty about feeling this way towards them living in the backyard since I want to be able to help my sister but I just know I’ll be even more overwhelmed than usual as well.))

I don’t think you are being unreasonable. This has disaster written all over it.

I don’t know if they (BIL/sister) understand how difficult living in an RV will be. Doesn’t matter how luxurious it is, it will be a HUGE adjustment. Especially with a NEWBORN and a 5 year old.

You are right, they will treat the house as an extension of their space and send your nephew to you when they ‘need a break’. Which will be all the time in close quarters.

I’m sorry, I truly am. This is going to be maddening. The best advice I could possibly give you is to make sure you have therapy in place and stand firm in your boundaries you lay down before they ever even move that RV in. At the end of the day - they had children, you didn’t.

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priyad123 · 12 days ago

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Navigating the Options: Choosing the Right Elder Care Services for Your Loved Ones

Depending on how much assistance an elderly parent needs, caring for them can be demanding and time-consuming. It's possible that you're juggling the needs of an elderly parent with your own personal life and family obligations.

Knowing how to choose senior care options will help you make sure your loved one's needs are fully satisfied and they receive quality care. It can also relieve you of some of your responsibilities.

The various care solutions that are available to guarantee the greatest comfort, safety, and wellbeing of beloved seniors are discussed in this blog.

Determine their requirements

Spend some time with your aging parent to know how well they function in their home, what tasks or activities they struggle with, what they can do freely and what are their areas of concern.

Try to make a list of ways you have been supporting them. This will assist you in deciding what level of care will be right for them. It doesn’t make sense to pay for Senior Citizen Services in Pune that they do not require.

Identifying the types of senior care available

There are various types of senior care, ranging from assisted living facilities to in-home care. In Pune, there are numerous individualized and all-inclusive care providers that provide live-in elder care services around-the-clock. This kind of option provides ongoing support, guaranteeing your parent gets the care and help they need.

Understanding the differences between assisted living, in-home care, and other possibilities enables you to make an informed choice that precisely suits your parent's requirements and preferences.

Know your options

Once you have determined their requirements, it is time for you to look at all types of senior care options available. It is always a good idea to check their insurance or benefits. Spend some time doing a little bit of investigation of senior services including:

Home care

If your loved one only needs assistance for a few hours or a day to perform non-medical tasks like getting in and out of bed, cleaning the house, and cooking, home health care services in Pune can be a fantastic choice. This allows them to stay in their house, which is their comfort zone.

It's time to examine all of the senior care options accessible after you have established their needs. It's wise to look into their benefits or insurance. Take some time to look into senior services in more detail, including:

Independent living communities

Independent living communities give your loved ones to live independently, but they don’t need to worry about lawn care or taking care of maintenance & repairs needed around their home. There are experts who will do that for your loved ones. Communities often organize group activities, outings, and meals.

Assisted Living

Assisted living gives 24/7 assistance that too in a more structured setting. It is for seniors who might not be safe in their own house but are yet not ready for a nursing home. Group activities are mainly offered so that they can remain social and active.

Nursing homes

Home Nursing Services in Pune provide more extensive care such as medical services. There is someone there to assist 24/7, and residents often live in the same room on a floor with other residents.

Budgeting for senior care

Knowing the best senior care options for aging parents depends heavily on finances. Make a budget that accounts for the costs of various care services, including medical bills, carer fees, and any additional amenities provided by senior living homes.

Offering affordable solutions for the highest caliber of elder home care, Phenixcare is dedicated to open and honest pricing. You can choose a care plan that provides required assistance without jeopardizing your financial stability if you are aware of your financial constraints.

Talk with a professional

Not sure what is the best fit for your aging parent? You can schedule a consultation with a professional who will explain you different options and what level of care your senior can benefit from. They can assist you to compare resources and answer any questions you might have in mind.

Be flexible

Remember your loved one’s condition can change with time. You might be required to increase hours of home care they receive. They might require a transition to assisted living or a nursing home as their requirements become more demanding or complex.

Be open to discussing what is in their best interest and making basic changes.

Location considerations

The location of the care facility must be taken into account before choosing the appropriate degree of care for your elderly parent. Being close to friends and family can have a significant impact on their general wellbeing.

The best method to sustain social ties and provide emotional support is to stay near loved ones. Family members may find it easier to visit and interact with their elderly parents as a result.

Therefore, choosing the appropriate degree of care for an elderly parent can be a difficult and sensitive choice. Be mindful to evaluate your loved one's care needs and preferences. Additionally, take your budget into account.

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redemption-of-zuko · 6 months ago

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It’s mid-2024.

I’m just on the verge of graduating (still in clinic for 3 more weeks, but done with theory!), I’m planning my wedding in exactly a year’s time, worrying about my bach party this December, thinking about the ADEX exams, hoping my friends and family are thinking of me and haven’t forgotten me, stressing about my living situation once I’m out of México, and just, in general, going through all the emotions of being at a *very* pivotal moment in my life.

My fiancé is taking a huge portion of his licensure exam in 1.5 months, and I’m excited beyond belief for him to finally get past that hurdle! I myself took the exam and passed in April, so I know he can, too. Now that classes are over for me, I’ve been doing my best to cater to him by cooking our meals, cleaning around the house, and giving him the space to lock in. But…

Today, I just had a sort of bad day. My appointment in the morning went well, but started off horribly. I left my wax rim at home and had to RUN at 7:50am to pick it up, rushed my appointment so that my patient could get to work by 9, and then I was told by the lab that they needed certain documents from me which required me to go back to school and ask for signatures. It worked out because I needed to pick up my total case anyways, but STILL so fucking annoying.

After that, I went to Fantasias Miguel to buy some crafts for my dad. I’m making him a bouquet of beers, chips, candy, and alllllla that for his birthday. Figured I could make something nice for the man who can afford anything he wants.

So while I’m out, I ask my fiancé to order some groceries and one of the ingredients was sandwich ham which goes for like less than 70 pesos here. The shopper couldn’t find the specific one ordered and asked if we wanted a replacement with a bougie 192 pesos ham and my fiancé approved it without thinking twice. I was finally over my bad mood as soon as I got home from centro but that put me in a sour mood again, and I’m all pissy. It’s not about the ham, it’s about the fact that he didn’t bat an eyelash at spending 192 pesos on ham. Or more like, he didn’t even know and just approved it without thinking. This is a small occurrence, but I wouldn’t be feeling such strong feelings if his money spending habits weren’t so bothersome to me. Because it completely is. It’s BOTHERSOME.

I have to hold my tongue so much because we’ll never see eye to eye… and I only stop myself because he’s spending his family’s money. He gets a good allowance every two weeks for him to spend on whatever he wants. His parents never take away from his account so I know that he can choose to spend or save. There are times where he’d have to wait a while to pay me back for rent (which is fine, it’s not an issue to me or my parents who finance me atm), but it makes me think, “Hmmm, if we stopped having food delivered as much, maybe he would have had enough money?” But it’s hard because our school really gives us no time to breathe, so I understand coming home and not having the energy to cook or clean. Yet, we can game and watch movies? I don’t know. It’s all temporary bullshit, but I can’t help but feel nervous for our future. I really can’t handle a big spender as a partner when I’m very much a spend-thrift and trying to build generational wealth. I guess it’ll come to a culmination when we’re both making our own money (which is really soon…). Which is why I’m trying to nip it in the bud while we’re young?

I also just don’t have anyone to talk to. I’m lonely. I feel like I can’t reach out to friends and family because I don’t want to influence how they feel about him. He’s the love of my life, I don’t want to vent about him to people who love him and vice versa. I’m in this strange limbo, and I’m starting to feel genuinely crazy.

#me #personal

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serviceapartmentinsouthdelhi · 1 year ago

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Stay at Service Apartments Delhi without any hassle

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anonnie-in-wonderland · 3 years ago

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Home Calls the Heart

Summary: Twenty-year old L/N Y/N realizes she might be, okay, is a little bit of a social pariah. But there’s not much she can really do about it. Until a dreary winter day, when a determined, persistent dog hybrid named Taehyung shows up and declares that he’s interested in adopting her for himself and the rest of his lonely pack.

chapter: three

Word Count: 6.2k

rating: T (mentions of death and mental illness/depression, a brief moment of social etiquette cringe from reader, who is too awkward for life)

genre: romance | hurt/comfort| magic AU

tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly| FM!reader

Emperor Penguin!Seokjin, Golden Retriever!Taehyung, Coyote!Hoseok, Mountain Lion!Yoongi, Wolfdog!Namjoon, Kingfisher!Jimin, Holland Lop!Jungkook

Author’s Note: Hello everyone, it’s been some time since the last update and I apologize about that but appreciate the patience. The taglist has grown considerably longer so I put it at the bottom. There are about 6 slots left open, but to keep it from getting to be a mile long I will close it down when I hit 50 people. Sorry in advance that I accidentally ended up back on my angst BS again this chap. Next one will likely be fluffier. 😭

prev/next

There was an undeniable awkwardness in the air, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel she was entirely to blame. Maybe she should have been more insistent about declining Taehyung’s offer to meet his family. It was evident to her now that they were indeed completely blindsided, though no one was overtly rude about her crashing their dinner.

On the contrary, the black-haired man who had taken one look at her and then fussed to get her a hot cup of tea was trying to make light conversation as he put the finishing touches on the evening meal.

Yoongi— the mountain lion, and Jimin and Taehyung’s hyung— had mostly focused on silently helping him after he shooed off Taehyung and told him to go let the others he had worried know he was back.

Jimin had cast her a small smile and a wave before joining the golden retriever. Which left (Y/N) with the two older men, sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar and feeling painfully in the way despite being physically well removed from the spot they were cooking in.

“Warming up any?” asked the broad-shouldered man, peeking at her from over said shoulder.

(Y/N) was quick to nod, now realizing just how lost she had been in her steaming cup of liquid. “Oh, um yeah, it’s doing the job really well.” She licked her lips, tasting the honey and chamomile of the tea, “Thank you.”

“That’s good. Let me know if you want more. It was probably freezing out there for you in just that sweater.” She had assumed that all of the others Taehyung lived with were hybrids as well, but to be completely honest, she had no idea what species of hybrid this man could be at a glance. And it was far from appropriate to ask when they had only just met.

“Taehyung let me borrow his scarf too.” She put in feebly, shrugging a little bashfully. (Y/N) had never planned to trek through the snow in such flimsy covering, but she had, and she felt foolish for it.

For the first time since resuming his spot next to the other man, Yoongi looked up and scoffed. “Which did exactly what for you? What you needed were layers.”

He was right, of course, but (Y/N) felt a little rankled by his tone. Was he blaming her or was he just gruff by nature?

“I’m sure she didn’t expect our pup to ambush her like that. You know how headstrong and impulsive Tae can be. Then there’s that big blue puppy eyed thing to contend with. It’s not a fair playing field.”

“Right?” (Y/N) agreed, happy someone was aware of the power of that puppy eye agenda. “I don’t think I stood a chance.”

“Try living with him.” He laughed, his full lips pulled into a bright smile. (Y/N) smiled too, a little bit of her nervousness melting away. His dark eyes twinkled, seeming to deem her reaction as a positive response, until something dawned on him. The loud gasp that came from him had Yoongi nearly losing his grip on the handle of the wok he was cooking with.

He gave the black-haired man a glare that went unnoticed. “Oh, I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself in all this.” He frowned, placing a hand to his chest. “I’m Seokjin, or just Jin. The charming one.” Much to her amusement, he brought his thumb and index finger up to his chin, pushing his lips out a little and wiggling his eyebrows.

(Y/N) wanted to introduce herself as an automatic response, but she was pretty positive he had heard the other boys say her name already. Still, it didn’t hurt to be polite. “(L/N) (Y/N), nice to meet you.” She giggled. “And sorry for turning up unannounced.”

“It’s alright,” Seokjin reassured her, staring down at the meat he had been preparing and then nodding in satisfaction. It smelled heavenly, and despite (Y/N) not wanting to intrude on their dinner, she couldn’t deny that if offered a plate, she would probably eat. From what she could tell they were having stir fried rice and lamb skewers. “It’s not the first time Tae’s gone out and brought a friend back.”

(Y/N) tilted her head curiously at that, hoping the mysterious dog hybrid wasn’t collecting strangers at the park whenever the mood arose. Someone was going to assume he was a kidnapper.

“He brings home injured animals that need looking after every once in a while.” Yoongi clarified. “A whole human is a different story.”

(Y/N) once again felt somewhat unwanted, playing with her empty cup, unsure what to say.

“Don’t mind him, he gets a little flustered with company if he feels unprepared.” Jin rolled his eyes. “He’s probably nervous about you liking his cooking.”

(Y/N) wasn’t so sure it was that simple, but before Yoongi could reply, someone gave an exaggerated sniff, groaning as he sauntered into the kitchen area. “Ohh, lamb’s on the menu tonight.” The girl turned in her seat, trying not to stare too openly as yet another handsome hybrid showed up. In spite of her crappy best efforts, he caught her looking, staring back with intrigued brown eyes. “Hi, TaeTae’s guest, right?”

(Y/N) swallowed, her mouth dry at the warmth he oozed, barely managing a nod. He was wearing a baggy white t-shirt, black joggers and socks with matching slides. His hair—an interesting mixture of rust brown with some intermittent streaks of gray—looked soft, parted in a fringe that showed his forehead.

(Y/N) had never given a great deal of thought about how attractive a forehead could be, but here she was, checking one out. “I’m Hoseok, everybody’s hope.” he winked, two pointed canine ears flicking up. “Including yours now.” Despite his casual greeting, the position of his ears would suggest he was equal parts curious and alert. She couldn’t exactly blame him when a new face showed up unexpectedly in his space.

“(Y-Y/N)…” she waved stiffly, mentally smacking herself for being such an introverted dork at times. Hoseok only grinned a little wider, leaving her awed that his lips naturally formed the shape of a heart when his perfect white teeth were on display.

“Hobi here is our happy pill.” Jin said proudly. “It’s hard to be grumpy with him around. Right, Yoongi-yah?”

Yoongi grumbled something unintelligible, but his eyes were noticeably softer the minute he saw Hoseok, so there was definitely some credence to Jin’s claim.

“I heard a little already from Jimin,” Hoseok said, skirting around behind where she was seated and into the kitchen. “But Taehyung latched onto you at the park, huh?” He reached up into a cabinet and handed Jin a platter. (Y/N) tried not to stare too much as the man piled the plate high with perfectly browned meat.

“Something like that…I was having lunch and I noticed a really pretty golden retriever that was unaccompanied wandering around. When he came over to me I just felt for him I guess,” (Y/N) toyed with an old ring on her pinkie finger, one that had once belonged to her mother. “No one likes being out in the cold all alone.”

(Y/N) wasn’t entirely sure if she was speaking about Taehyung or herself there. It wasn’t a stretch to say her mind was muddled when the hybrid had come trotting over to her.

“You have to admit, following a hybrid you don’t even know back home is kind of risky.” Hoseok tilted his head, eyebrows pulling up as if he was trying to discern what would make her do it.

“We’re nice people,” Seokjin huffed, making quick work of setting the table once Yoongi scraped the rice out of the pan. “(Y/N)’s got nothing to worry about.”

“Not like she knew that when she walked through the door though,” Yoongi turned to her. “In the future, be a little more cautious, for your own sake. The last I checked, small humans like yourself are fragile.”

It sounded well-meaning enough, like concern, in his own way. So (Y/N) chose to take it as a friendly(ish) reminder. “Not that fragile…” she sniffed. “I took a few years of jiu jitsu as a kid. I was a purple belt.”

The feline hybrid stared blankly, as if silently asking what that was supposed to mean to him exactly. Flustered, (Y/N)’s chest deflated, “Right, noted. I’ll be better about paying attention to my surroundings in the future.”

“Okay, okay.” Hoseok sang out, “How about we lay off a little. She’s a guest. No need to go scaring her off, hyung.” In a move that looked incredibly brave from (Y/N)’s vantage point, Hoseok playfully leaned into Yoongi’s face, squishing his cheeks together until they resembled dumplings. For a fleeting second, (Y/N) wanted to coo. At Yoongi. The grumbly, so-far-solemn mountain lion.

His long tail came up, lightly slapping against Hoseok’s wrist, making the other man step back with a fond smile. “Just call the rest, would you? Tell them food’s done.”

“On it!” Hoseok bounced away with a cute little smile and a salute. Jin shook his head, but there was nothing but affection on his face.

“(Y/N), grab a seat,” He pulled out a chair, beckoning her over to the table. (Y/N) blinked, a little surprised. If anything, she would have expected to eat at the counter. There was plenty of space. What if by sitting at the table, she took someone’s seat? No way she was about to put someone out when these men had already let her come in out of the cold, despite her being a total stranger.

Seeming to notice her dilemma, Jin’s eyes grew warm and reassuring. “Don’t worry about taking someone’s spot.” The rectangular table had eight chairs set around it, all of the places set except the seat at the head, something she didn’t feel comfortable commenting on. “Our youngest is probably going to eat upstairs again tonight,” Jin sounded a little disappointed by the prospect, but that too was something (Y/N) was hardly going to pry about. Some people didn’t do well with surprises, like unexpected company at dinner. Who was she to subject someone antisocial or painfully shy to her presence?

Slowly, she slid from her stool at the counter, clutching her empty teacup until Seokjin noticed she still had it. “Oh here,” he took it from her, setting it in the sink, probably thinking he was being nice. Little did he know that the teacup and its happy bunny pattern had been something to physically cling onto, keeping her nerves at bay just slightly.

“Thanks,” she said, not wanting to explain that. (Y/N) took the seat she was directed to, her stomach giving an involuntary gurgle with the meat and bell pepper skewers right in front of her eyes. The rice accompanying the protein and veggies cooked to perfection too.

“Poor thing, you sound hungry.”

(Y/N) blushed. Of course Jin would have heard it. Which meant he was a hybrid after all then. Yoongi likely heard it too. He just didn’t deem it worth commenting on, taking his spot diagonal from hers across the table. Thundering footsteps kept there from being a need for strained attempts at conversation (luckily), Jin’s handsome features puckering into a sour expression as several boys slid through the door all at once, nearly toppling each other over. “Yah, have you all lost your minds, running in my kitchen?”

A chorus of “Sorry hyung,” in different voices had (Y/N) smiling to herself as they filed through the kitchen with more composure. Taehyung made a beeline for her as soon as he saw her, his tail wagging as he plopped down beside her, their shoulders brushing.

His eagerness to be near her eased her nerves just a little, making her feel less awkward as the rest of the hybrids filed in. There was only one she didn’t think she had met, a tall, tanned hybrid with dark rectangular ears similar to Hoseok’s, if not slightly larger. They met eyes, (Y/N) getting swept into his deep, inquisitive gaze.

“Joon-hyung, this is (Y/N).” Jimin introduced, also finding his place at the table. The avian hybrid looked very cozy in a striped long-sleeved shirt that fell over his hands, baggy sweatpants nearly covering his bare feet. From so close, she found his wings twice as gorgeous as before. Such a striking shade of cobalt blue, every feather groomed just so as the feathery appendages stayed tucked against his back. She had never seen a winged hybrid before, come to think of it. A slew of questions she was too shy to ask stayed balanced on the tip of her tongue. Were his wings heavy? Did he have to clean them in a special way? Was it uncomfortable keeping them tucked in like that?

All of these things were pushed to the wayside when she realized the hybrid she didn’t know was talking to her. “Nice to meet you,” he nodded at her, voice deep and expression cordial. “I’m Namjoon.”

“Hi Namjoon,” she swallowed, not sure why her palms felt a bit sweaty. It was probably just that he had such a commanding presence, though she wasn’t uncomfortable. “Likewise.”

As he made his way toward a seat at the table, his black and silver tail swept out when he turned, knocking into and nearly turning over a cup full of liquid there. Only Hoseok’s fast reflexes saved it, Namjoon whirling around with a small gasp, eyes startled and then sheepish. “Oh I…I didn’t mean to do that.” He muttered, causing the man beside him to laugh brightly, patting his arm. “We know, Joonie.”

“Just sit down.” Yoongi clicked his tongue.

The burly hybrid quickly lowered into his seat, looking as though he was trying not to draw further attention to himself. His shoulders were hunched in and his ears were down as he picked up his cup with concentration and took a delicate sip. (Y/N) softened, his display of clumsiness cutting his intimidation factor cleanly in half. Besides, they had only just met, and he hadn’t done anything to her besides tell her his name. The young woman mentally scolded herself for letting her nerves get the best of her.

Jin whisked by out of the kitchen holding a plate of food. “I’ll take Jungkook his dinner.” He announced, “There better be enough for me when I get back! And (Y/N) be sure to go ahead and dig in. You have to be quick when you’re eating with a bunch of animals.”

She blinked, “Okay…”

“I’ll help you,” Taehyung offered, taking her plate for her and beginning to put rice on it. He added three lamb skewers to it and presented the food to her with proud eyes.

“T-Thanks, it looks great.” (Y/N) directed the compliment at Yoongi as she carefully took the plate. He nodded silently, eating the fruits of his and Seokjin’s labor.

Although she readied her chopsticks, (Y/N) still paused, having the sense of having barged in on their quiet family meal, despite the circumstances that had brought her to their doorstep.

“Everything okay?” It was Jimin who’d asked, tilting his head in her direction curiously as he bit into the skewer of lamb in his hand.

It felt like all eyes drifted her way, and (Y/N) bobbed her head in a nod, clearing her throat. “Uh it’s just that,” she laughed nervously. “I’m a vegetarian.”

All the sounds of activity around the table stopped, the hybrids staring with bulging eyes, except Yoongi, who lifted a brow.

“She can’t eat this, hyung,” Taehyung reached for her plate, expression serious. “What else do we have that’s—”

Before he could completely tug it away, (Y/N) grabbed his wrist, wincing. “Sorry, sorry. That was just…it was a really crappy attempt at a joke. I’m not a vegetarian. I’m just an awkward dumbass that didn’t know how to explain I was too nervous to take a bite. I didn’t know what to say and I blurted that out, so just…sorry.”

As the hybrids processed her words, everyone sank back into their chairs, panic fading. “Some joke.” Yoongi huffed.

“So…you like bad jokes?” Taehyung asked thoughtfully. “How do you feel about puns?”

(Y/N) shrugged, “I’m not eggxactly opposed to a good one.”

Several of the men groaned, Hoseok chuckling across the table from her. “Oh, Jin’s gonna be over the moon excited.”

Any lingering awkwardness and tension died down, the sounds of eating filling the room. Taking that as her cue, (Y/N) tentatively dug in, feeling self-conscious even as the others around her ate heartily. That first bite of the tender lamb was like her tongue being serenaded by the perfect blend of flavors. It had been so long since she’d had any, especially seasoned to perfection. Her pleasure must have been written clearly across her face, the tip of her a finger startling her as it poked her bulging cheek. Taehyung watched her in amusement, a knowing look in his eyes. “Good, right?”

“Uh-huh,” If there was one thing bound to make her lose any bashfulness with new people, it was great tasting food. “So good,” Was she drooling? Hopefully not. It was the kind of meal that tasted so amazing that it was tempting to go for another big bite before the first had even been chewed and swallowed. “Compliments to the chefs.”

“You like it?” Jin had stepped back into the kitchen, sans the plate he had been carrying, at that exact moment. “It’s nothing much really.”

“Listen to him, pretending to be modest.” Namjoon smirked. “We all know you’re proud of your cooking, hyung. Well, (Y/N) didn’t, but now she does.”

“Aish,” Jin scolded, “Don’t tell on your hyung! People like a little feigned modesty every now and then.”

(Y/N) found herself further relaxed, taking a sip of the juice she’d been given. Taehyung sighed happily, “This is going better than I thought it would. See, (Y/N)? Everything’s fine.”

“Speaking of (Y/N), not to put you on the spot, but I still have a few questions.” Namjoon spoke again, and the girl urged him to go on with a nod. “When did you meet Taehyung? I thought we knew all of his friends, and most are, well…hybrids.”

Taking her time wiping sauce from the corner of her mouth, (Y/N) tried to formulate a proper answer, sensing that more than just Namjoon was curious about her. “I was having lunch by myself in the park earlier today, and I noticed a pretty dog walking around, looking for someone to play with.”

Yoongi fixed Taehyung with a pointed stare at this. “Wandering up to strangers without wearing your collar? Do you realize what the consequences of pulling a stunt like that could be?”

Taehyung’s ears folded down against his fluffy hair, avoiding his hyung’s eyes. “It was the easiest test I could think of to find a nice human. I figured I’d know a good one when I found them,”

“Why were you looking for a ‘nice human’?” Hoseok prodded, shooting (Y/N) a quick smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Whatever kind of animal instincts he had, they seemed to be on alert in regards to her. “Not that you don’t seem like one.”

“No, no I get it,” (Y/N) assured, putting a bit more rice in her mouth. “I turned up at your house kinda suddenly.”

“Answer the question, pup.” Yoongi said.

(Y/N) could feel Jimin tense up beside her, his wings making a quiet sound as he shuffled in his seat.

“I wanted…to find one who’d be willing to join our family.” He confessed. “Nothing’s been the same without Gramps.” His deep voice cracked, raw with emotion. “So I just thought maybe…”

“…Are you serious?” Yoongi said. (Y/N) had been staring at her plate, but she risked a peek in his direction, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Those limpid feline eyes, so green, were shiny with emotion. Rage? Sadness? Shock? All of the above? It was hard to say. “He’s been dead one fucking week, and you bring someone home with the intention of replacing him, without even consulting us?”

Just like that, all the tension taut enough to steal the air from her lungs was back. Taehyung looked ready to get up as Yoongi made to leave the table. “Hyung, it’s not like that—”

Yoongi rounded on him with startling grace. “Then tell me what it is like, Taehyung.” The big cat demanded. “Tell me what was going through your head, to feel the need to rush out and drag home some weird girl, sit her down at our table, and tell us this out of the blue.”

(Y/N) couldn’t look at a single one of them. Hearing that she had been brought to visit so soon after what sounded like a severe loss made her feel immensely guilty. The eighth spot that wasn’t set, Taehyung’s loneliness and sadness when she touched him, the wariness some of the hybrids displayed towards her. It all made sense. They were fresh in their mourning, and here she was, an intruder who had no right to be among them.

“You’ve got to admit, you didn’t think it out.” Hoseok’s voice wasn’t as sharp as Yoongi’s, but it caused her to flinch nonetheless. There was an undercurrent of disappointment that ate into (Y/N) even if it might not have been directed at her. “Gramps was…he was an amazing human. We all know that. What other person would be crazy enough and compassionate enough to take in a group like us, and raise us like his own kids?”

“I’m not trying to replace him at all!” Taehyung sounded so desperate for them to understand, his words pleading. “I swear I’m not. I know how much he meant to us,” he was starting to tear up, his pain, all their pain making (Y/N) rub at her chest. Sometimes, when animals in the vicinity were hurting enough, she didn’t need to touch them to feel their emotions. Apparently it was the same for hybrids. The grief all of them had over their departed caregiver was obvious, a palpable weight in her chest. “He saved me that day…he meant everything to me too.” As he broke down, scrubbing at his eyes as he began to sob, Jimin stood, walking around (Y/N)’s seat and encircling him in a fierce hug, his wings spreading a little to shelter his friend.

“Did you know?”

The tight, raspy voice belonging to Yoongi startled her from her dazed state of silence.

“Did I…know?” She croaked.

“That he wanted you to join our family? Did you know we’d only just lost our human?” He clarified. “I thought it was weird, you just up and following our pup home. I know Tae’s charming, but it was so abrupt.”

Throat itching, wrapped up in all the melancholy that had overtaken the six of them, (Y/N) felt the need to speak up, explain her side of things. She hadn’t meant to be hurt them, wasn’t trying to be complicit in rubbing salt in what she now knew to only be a week old wound. From losing Ha-Kun, (Y/N) was perfectly aware that the loss of someone dear took much, much longer to start closing than that. Right now their anguish was an exposed nerve, and she had stepped on it.

“I…um, yeah.” (Y/N) admitted, sounding tiny even to herself. But, undoubtedly they heard her just fine. “He told me not long after we met.” Yoongi’s features curled in disdain. “But I didn’t come here because I agreed.” she rushed to add, “It’s not because I’m trying to replace anyone. I would never diminish the grief you must all be feeling by assuming I could come in and sweep away the memory of a man who was clearly very dear to you all.”

“It’s not…not (Y/N)’s fault…” Taehyung lifted his face from Jimin’s neck to explain. “I was pushy. M’ sorry hyungs…Jiminie…I didn’t think about your feelings. And I’m sorry to you too, (Y/N), for dragging you into this.” He whimpered, and without thinking too much, (Y/N) reached over and placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Well, I still agreed to come home with you, didn’t I?” she mumbled. “I thought I could help you deal with some of that pain I felt, but that might have been really presumptuous of me. I didn’t even know the full situation.” Rising to her feet, she bowed deeply to all of them. “I can’t thank any of you enough for letting me into your home, and even feeding me. I think I’ve done enough harm, though. I should go.”

“No!” Taehyung cried, snagging her sleeve as she pushed in her chair.

“Taehyung, I’m sorry, but I—”

“Wait,” Namjoon’s commanding tone was enough to halt her in her tracks. “What did you mean when you said some of the pain you felt?”

(Y/N) hadn’t even realized her slip. Not that her power was anything she necessarily hid. But it also wasn’t something she went around volunteering at random. However, given that it was largely responsible for how she had ended up in her current predicament, maybe it was best to come completely clean.

“Oh, that’s because I kinda…have a special ability.” Her eyes darted from one male to the next, gauging their general reaction. “You know, magic. Empathic magic. Since I was little, I’ve been able to feel and understand the emotions of animals.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, “We’re not—”

“And hybrids too, I think.”

“So when we met at the park…” Taehyung was clearly beginning to piece it together. “You…you…”

“I felt what you did.” (Y/N) confirmed, a warm tear sliding from her eye.“I couldn’t leave you like that, so I told myself whatever I could do to step in and help, I would. I kind of do it for a living. I’m an animal behaviorist. I try to help animals express themselves and guide people towards understanding their emotions.”

“I’ve read about humans like you.” Namjoon informed her. “They’re pretty rare these days. Only something like one in every two hundred thousand has a gift, right?”

“Something like that.” (Y/N) said lightly, gripping the back of her chair hard, instincts still urging her to run away. “I’ve never met anyone else with a gift in my life, to be honest.” Pausing, she considered another possibility, “Or maybe I have, and they were being discreet.”

“Either way, none of us have ever met someone like you before.” Hoseok said.

“Yep, I’m not a garden-variety weirdo.” she joked weakly. “I’m a rare weirdo.”

That broke the tension, just a little, several of the hybrids staring in soft amusement. “Anyway, I’m really sorry for any trouble I might’ve caused, and sorry for making dinner…this.” she gestured around. “I uh, my condolences too, for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Seokjin smiled.

(Y/N) scrambled away from the table, heart hammering as she felt Taehyung’s burning stare follow her. ‘I know I gave up before I even tried. I’m sorry I let you believe I was someone special who could help.’

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the golden retriever—who looked every bit the kicked puppy—that called out to her first.

“(Y/N), hold on.” Jin approached slowly, as if trying not to corner a startled animal. She blinked. Wow, she must look really uncomfortable and desperate to escape. “How far away do you live? There’s supposed to be a cold front with heavier snowfall coming tonight. If you plan to walk, then I’m going to have to put my foot down.”

Walking back to the parking lot to retrieve her car was exactly what she had planned to do. “I’m sure it’s not too bad.” She tried, but the older man was having none of it.

“It’s too dangerous, and you don’t even have a proper coat or boots.” Seokjin disputed, “You aren’t going.”

“Listen to Jin,” Yoongi huffed. “If you think you caused so much trouble now, think of how much more you’d be causing if you went out in that storm and got lost or froze to death. This one’s already about to cry.” He pointed to Taehyung, who indeed appeared ready to shed tears.

“Stay the night.” Jin offered, patting her shoulder. “I’m sure Tae would like that.”

Taehyung’s tail was wagging hard, his sterling blue eyes hopeful as he remained beside Jimin. “C’mon (Y/N), at least until the storm passes?”

(Y/N) mentally weighed her options, glancing out the kitchen window to see the snow coming down in a flurry. No way would she be able to see to make it back to her car safely. It would be just fine parked where it was overnight. No one was going to risk getting buried in the snow to go bother it. “You make a tempting offer gentlemen,” she finally conceded. “I don’t think I have much choice.”

“Now that that’s sorted out, everybody sit down.” Jin ordered, shooing everyone who had stood back toward the table. “If my cooking isn’t appreciated, I’ll be the next person crying.”

Taehyung maintained a firm grip on one of her hands throughout the rest of the meal, but after the dramatic turn things had taken there, the empath couldn’t find it in herself to complain.

“Seriously, I don’t have any trouble sleeping on the couch downstairs.” (Y/N) uselessly repeated for the fourth time. It was pointless, because Seokjin was hearing none of it.

“Oh hush,” he rolled his eyes. “The couch is alright for naps, but it can get a little drafty down there in the winter. I could turn on the fireplace,” he considered, turning down the sheets. “But wouldn’t you rather be nice and cozy up here?” The man, who she had found out was also a bird hybrid, patted the bed enticingly.

“It looks amazing, especially after the long day I’ve had, don’t get me wrong,” (Y/N) assured him, “It’s just…this is clearly someone’s bedroom.” The space was far too lived in to think otherwise. There was an open sketchbook with doodles on the writing desk near the bedroom’s window, and a vintage camera close to it. Whoever owned the device knew what they were doing, a cork board of pinned photos of happy smiling faces and serene skylines displayed there. Not to mention the partially opened closet full of male clothes and the set of weights in the corner. “Where are they going to sleep?”

“Jungkookie? Don’t worry about him. He’s sleeping down the hall tonight anyway.” Jin explained. “He knows we have a guest, and I don’t think he’ll be too upset about you using his room for the night,” Finished switching out the sheets, the bird hybrid tucked them neatly away in a dresser drawer.

“The more of your hospitality I use up, the worse I feel.” (Y/N) perched herself on the edge of the bed, having to silently admit that it was very comfy. If it felt this good just to sit down on it, laying there on her back was bound to feel even better.

Seokjin sat beside her, placing his hands on her shoulders to focus her attention on him. “(Y/N), it’s alright,” he said earnestly. “I know things got…intense downstairs. And it’s true we were caught off guard. But that doesn’t mean we’re putting you out in the cold just because Taehyung did something impulsive. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong, so stop sulking.” Her heart skipped a beat as he leaned in a little, “In fact, stare into my handsome face until it’s imprinted into your head. Then when you fall asleep, you’re guaranteed to have good dreams.”

(Y/N) gave an unattractive snort, quickly covering her lips and then tittering into her hand. Seokjin said it like he was trying to hypnotize her into obeying. What a goofball.

“Yah, there’s nothing funny about a face this good looking.” He fussed, “Are you rejecting my offer?”

“Of course I’d never turn down an offer so generous.” (Y/N) sobered, though it was hard to fight the grin edging back onto her lips. “A face that beautiful, and I get to look at it for free? Lucky me.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Jin agreed. In hindsight, him being an emperor penguin made a lot of sense. He carried himself with a certain self-assured elegance. “Anyway, you should be all set now. There’s a bathroom just down the hall to the left if you want to shower before bed.”

He got up to leave, telling her where he would be if she found she needed anything else in the middle of the night. (Y/N) was grateful, but imposing again was the last thing she planned to do. She would cause as little disruption as possible and then trekk back to her car after saying the proper goodbyes in the morning.

Although…a hot shower might help with her nervous energy. (Y/N) looked down at herself with a light frown. If she wanted to shower she would have to put the same clothes back on for the night… Sighing heavily, the girl decided maybe she wasn’t getting that shower after all. Her fingers had only just started to peel back the sheets when a knock came at the door. Snapping upright, she tried to tamp down the unnecessary feeling of guilt, like she was somewhere she shouldn’t be. “C-Come in,” she called.

The door creaked open, a blue head slowly peeking in. (Y/N) met Jimin’s eyes, a little smile on his face. “Good, you’re still awake. I wanted to bring you these,” he trotted in the room with fabric draped over his arm, holding it out to her. “To borrow for the night.”

(Y/N) carefully accepted the bundle, realizing he had brought her a pajama set. Unfolding them and holding them out, she surmised it should fit pretty well. Jimin was taller but there shouldn’t be any issues of them being too large.

“You didn’t have to,” she said, “I could have just slept in what I’m wearing.”

“You could’ve, but now you don’t have to.” The hybrid insisted, his tone edging on sassy.

“Well thanks,” (Y/N) relented easily, because truth be told she still wanted that shower and now she had a change of clothes. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” When he smiled, his cheeks were so cute. “Tae wanted to come say goodnight anyway, but he’s busy with the hyungs. So I said I’d do it.”

(Y/N) winced in sympathy for the poor dog hybrid. “How’s he holding up? They’re not going too hard on him, are they?”

“My hearing isn't as good as some of the others, but I know he’s getting an earful.” Jimin revealed, playing with his fingers. “Oh, but don’t worry about it,” he added when he saw her frown. “It’s TaeTae, so they won’t be mad for too long.”

(Y/N) supposed that was all she could hope for. At the end of the day, Taehyung had been trying to help his family, as unorthodox as his idea was.

Jimin looked back, eyeing the door he’d left cracked, and then studying her with big, soft eyes. Not for the first time, (Y/N) was mesmerized by how positively angelic he was. “Can I tell you something?”

(Y/N) was so captivated by how pretty he was, she nodded without hesitation. He could tell her about the stock market report and she would listen dutifully. “Keep it just between us…” he started, licking his lips, “But I’m glad you’re here. I hope you can help Jungkookie, and the hyungs too.”

“I’m not,” (Y/N) hesitated, “Sure they really want my help. And if you mean the Jungkook that Jin mentioned, I haven’t even met him.”

“You might if you want to stick around…” he whispered, staring down at his slipper clad feet. “Gramps was home. Some of us don’t remember where we came from before, and some of us got ripped away from our families and then tossed around like property up for grabs. Gramps was never like that. Maybe he had magic too. He just felt that special.” (Y/N) listened solemnly, letting Jimin wipe at his watery eyes. “I understand what Tae was trying to do.”

Tentatively, (Y/N) stuck out her hand. “I don’t know if I can become your human so suddenly, but would it be alright if I became your friend?”

His face lit up, and (Y/N) thought she might melt at the way his eyes disappeared into his full cheeks when he was beaming. “That’s perfect.” He said, accepting her hand.

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