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kikiiswashere · 1 year ago

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Children of Zaun - Chapter 17

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, eventual smut

Chapter Summary: Katya and Viktor finally go to scope out some boats for his Academy project. While at the harbor, she spies a mysterious figure harvesting purple stuff (they were out of Sunny-D), and nearly gets outted by an exuberant Annie. Nasha comes to The Last Drop to talk with Silco and Vander about an opportunity for the revolution.

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 5.5K

The water was warm. Perfect. Not borderline scalding like the Springs. So close to Katya’s own body temperature that it felt like an extension of her. If it weren’t for the way the water parted and lapped at her arms and chest, she wasn’t sure if she would’ve been able to detect it. That, and the rippling across the surface, distorting the starlight’s glittering reflection, confirmed the water’s presence. It was pitch-dark, save for the sparkles above, which shimmered and refracted below, making Katya feel as if she were swimming in space itself.

There was no edge, no horizon line. There never was in this dream. Just her in this infinite space. Her body never tired, her breath was never taken away by exertion. She just swam. Floated.

Sometimes she would hum or sing, and her voice would somehow simultaneously echo off the glittering walls she couldn’t see, and be absorbed by them. The sound thrummed inside her body, and vibrated off of her damp skin.

It was only ever her here. No Viktor splashing behind her, no papa or mama swimming ahead. In some ways, it was nice. In others, it was lonely.

She forged ahead, cutting through the water in a lazy stroke, before flipping on her back and gazing up at the pinpricks of light. She felt her long hair swirl and hover in the water beneath her, swaying like a tangle of kelp. Then, her skin prickled and her body hummed. Katya knit her thick brows together, rolling over and shifting her body to an upright, treading position (although, there really wasn’t a need to tread in this magick-dream liquid). She looked behind her and squinted, even though she knew the action was futile.

Was there someone else here? It felt like it, almost.

She parted her lips to call out.

Then her eyes opened, and she was back in her bed. Squirreled up in her new blanket. The weave was thick and warm, and soft against the skin of her bare legs. The bedroom was still dark, but that wasn’t unusual given the time she normally woke up, and for the Sumps in general. She stretched her hand out of its warm cocoon and pawed at the bedside table, looking for her pocket watch. Once her fingers curled around it, she drew it back and popped it open, eying the time.

Time to get up.

Reluctantly untangling herself, Katya rolled out of bed. She pulled on a pair of trousers and quietly padded out of her room.

By the time the kettle began singing, Viktor had staggered out of his bedroom, bleary-eyed and bedheaded. His sister quietly greeted him as she turned the stove off and he teetered toward the kitchen table, sitting down heavily in his chair.

Katya poured the hot water into mugs of tea and bowls of oatmeal, and set them at their respective seats. They shared their breakfast in silence; Viktor eating very slowly, Katya longing for the herbs and spices of Enyd’s oxtail stew.

“I was thinking,” Katya said, stirring the last couple of spoonfuls around her bowl, “that after we go to the Shores, we could go back to the Springs.”

Viktor looked over his mug at her, interestedly.

“An afternoon swim before dinner?”

“You’ll swim with me?” he asked.

Katya took another bite of bland oats and nodded.

“I could go for a swim,” she said, thinking of her dream.

“We should get going then!” Viktor urged; his energy levels suddenly sparked. He gathered his empty dishes and hobbled to the sink, clumsily depositing them.

Katya chuckled, and followed suit.

The Shores – like the Promenade – had the benefit of sunlight. It reflected off the water’s surface in glittering swaths and sharp, blinding bursts. The air was without the dank funk of the Entresol and Sumps; brine and seaweed in its stead. The last bits of the season’s warmth hung on the breeze, ruffling hair and caressing cheeks. But the promise of the upcoming winter months was on the tail end of the wind; crispness and chill ghosting over the backs of bare necks, causing surprise shivers. As such, Katya had brought Viktor’s jacket, even though he argued and groaned that he didn’t need it. She kept it slung over her arm, but she warned him that when she saw gooseflesh ripple over his skin, the coat was going on. And being the younger brother, he was resigned to agree.

The siblings perched themselves on a heap of dry nets, piled on the Shores’ wharf. Katya was relieved that there wasn’t an Enforcer in sight. She dropped the rucksack she had packed in a thankful flumpf at their feet.

The harbor was still on the fuller side, boats not yet having been taken out for their fishing and trade duties. Dockhands, fisherman and mongers, and fishwives traveled to and fro across the water-sogged pier slats, their footsteps calming, echoing plods on the wood. No one paid the siblings any mind; there was work to be done.

Viktor fetched his notebook and pencil from the sack, along with their Papa’s old book on boats. It was a smaller text so Katya didn’t mind bringing it along.

“Here,” she said, holding a hand out. “I’ll hold on to the book.”

He passed it to her and cracked his steno pad open. Many of the pages inside had already been scribbled over – margin to margin, front and back. It warmed Katya’s heart for a reason she didn’t really understand. She smiled. Viktor flipped to a clean page, set the tip of his pencil on the parchment surface, and looked up, his eyes sweeping up and down the harbor. His sister could see in the intensity of his gaze that he was scrutinizing and memorizing the boats present. Their shapes and sizes, the materials they were made from, the mismatched materials that had been used to patch and repair.

He began slowly and carefully sketching a nearby tug boat, his pencil strokes becoming surer and darker as he went. Occasionally, he would write a note next to his sketch, equations and formulae. Katya watched as his eyes glazed over in intense focus, and how his jaw shifted side to side in concentration. A soft, proud smile pulled at her lips like warm taffy; that fondness slid down her shoulders and settled in between her shoulder blades.

The pair sat in companionable silence. Viktor mumbled to himself every now and again, Katya alternated between flipping through pages of the book in her lap, and letting her eyes lazily wander up and down the docks. The tide was beginning its leisurely return to the sea, and slowly, several of the boats in the harbor were taken out before the water became too shallow. She watched as barnacles and mussels that had glued themselves to the pier posts were slowly uncovered. Above, seabirds excitedly gathered in the sky, clicking and squawking their impending delight.

As the water receded, the algae blooms and scruffy marine vegetation became more noticeable. Slicks of slime green coated rocks and seaweeds draped and dripped lazily over them. Most of the plant life were varying shades of green and brown. For Trenchers, working at the water’s edge was really the only time they would see green in the Undercity. The leafy trees of Piltover couldn’t survive the deep dark of the Fissures. What plant life existed there was either equally dark or sickly pale.

There was one exception.

Not wanting to leave Viktor’s side, Katya strained her neck and squinted her eyes towards the mouth of the harbor. She remembered visiting the tidepools with her Papa; he had told her that the purple algae and flowers only grew there – at the opening of the sea, in the littoral caves that cut into the coasts of Piltover and her Undercity. They had fascinated Katya the most, the way they shimmered and seemed to glow from within.

As the tide receded, she thought she saw the purple glimmer on the rocks. It could’ve been a trick of the sun, but it made her smile all the same. She wished she could’ve shown Viktor, but the tidepools and slick crags of the shoreline were too treacherous for him and his cane.

She felt a small hand paw at her side. Turning back, she saw Viktor asking for the book. She passed it over, and then turned to look out past the harbor again. She blinked. A figure had appeared at the edge of the water. A tall, thin someone. In a dark cloak and a wide-brimmed sun hat. A basket was slung over their elbow. They knelt and pawed at the rocks, and puddles between. Occasionally, they would bring up a fistful of purple algae and deposit it into their basket.

Katya’s spine straightened and her brows pinched together. She’d never seen anyone gather it. Papa had told her that it was one of the few inedible marine flora, and its slimy texture and fickle constitution didn’t make it much good for anything else than looking pretty. She couldn’t imagine what someone would harvest it for. Even the flowers, when picked, lost their luster so quickly that they were wilted by the time one brought them home. She had remembered trying, and being very upset when her bouquet hung limply over the drinking glass she used as a vase.

The figure stood and, with steps that spoke of great practice, glided around the large rocks and out of sight. Katya chewed on the inside of her lip and scrunched her nose. The purple halo of the rocks was gone. Gathered up, for some unimaginable reason, into the stranger’s basket.

A little after noon, once Viktor had nearly filled his notepad with sketch after sketch, Katya suggested that they head for the Springs and Oases. Despite wanting to do this next part of their day, the boy grumbled a bit, struggling to extricate himself from the task he was absorbed in. She patiently waited as he finished his drawings and notes, reminding him in a soft voice to take his time. He finally handed his notebook to her, and she stuffed it and the textbook away in the rucksack.

They hopped off the pile of nets – both siblings taking a moment to stretch their legs and backs – and headed for the stairs that would guide them back into the edges of the Undercity. From there, they would wind through the crumbling boundaries of their home city to the Springs.

Once they were halfway up the stairs, a series of shouts from the docks cause both siblings to jump and look around. Katya’s hands gripped Viktor’s shirt tightly and her heart thundered, her eyes frantically looking back at the docks. A flurry of movement grabbed her eye, and the thudding of her heart lessened.

Down on the right side of the docks, near an ancient looking fishing trawler, Annie bounced furiously, waving her thin arms in the air. Beckett was at her side, mooring the small vessel.

“Katya!” Annie screamed.

Even from faraway, Katya could see the wide smile splitting the other woman’s face. She readjusted her hold on Viktor’s shirt and encourage him to keep walking up the stairs.

“Who’s that?” he asked, stumbling a bit as he tried to follow his sister’s instructions and get a look at whoever was yelling at them.

“A patient from the mines,” she lied, her jaw tight.

“Should we go say hello?”

“No, it’s fine,” Katya quickly replied, continuing to urge him up the stairs.

To satisfy her brother, and hopefully shut Annie up, she turned and waved back. And then continued to encourage Viktor away from the Shores.

It had been a long time since Katya swam in the Springs. She hissed in discomfort as she submerged her body in the near blistering water. Viktor giggled at her, and plunged his head underneath the surface. He burst back up in an impressive wave, chestnut hair plastered to his head. His white, crooked smile stood out from the pink of his skin as he egged her to go all the way under. He whooped and clapped when she did, and Katya appeared back above the water laughing.

Their joy rang off the wet rocks of the Springs. Vibrating through the water and humming on their wet skin.

Since Katya was in the pools with him, she allowed Viktor to explore some of the deeper waters. Not so deep that her own toes didn’t touch the bottom, but enough so that his kicks and strokes weren’t impeded by the Terra.

As he splashed and flailed, she took a couple of graceful strokes, reaching her arms over head and cutting through the water like a fish. Then she dove under, undulating her hips and flicking her legs. She swirled through the hot water with her eyes pinched shut, using her fingertips to feel her way. Her head pitched up and she broke through the surface, breathing in the warm, chronically-petrichor scented air. Like in her dream, she flipped on her back and lazily floated, staring up at the sandy colored stalactites above.

“Can you show me that one stroke again?” Viktor asked, as he paddled over.

Living in a port city, their parents had felt it would be important for their children to be able to swim. Luckily, this was a skill both their mama and papa had been adept at. Prior to Viktor’s birth, they would take Katya to the Oases and the small, cleaner beaches on the Undercity’s side of the Pilt, and teach her how to right herself in the water, to float, and to swim.

After Viktor was born, and their mother left, the beaches were swallowed up by chemical runoff. For most of the year, the water in the Oases was too chilled, and would cause Viktor’s limbs to cramp horribly. It didn’t help that the pools there were often full of rowdy, too-rough children who could not be mindful around the handicapped youngster. So, their papa had tried the Springs. Initially fearful that its water would be too hot for any of them – much less his son’s sensitive constitution – both he and Katya were relieved and elated that Viktor’s body responded well to the heat and the amped up buoyancy of the mineral-rich pools.

Together, Katya and her papa taught him different swimming strokes. While Viktor tried, his bent body couldn’t execute the movements as seamlessly; and he preferred just paddling and splashing. He had to live enough in his head most of the time. In the cradle and forgiving nature of water, he allowed himself to drop into his body, and connect with it, move it in ways he couldn’t do on land.

“The firelight one?” Katya asked, wiping her hair back from her face.

Viktor swam to a rock ledge, and clung to it as he nodded.

Taking a breath, she reached out in front of her, aligning her fingertips with her shoulders and then cut her arms down through the water, pulling her upper body beneath the surface. As she propelled forward, her elbows popped up and back, pushing the water behind her hips and legs. Her thumbs grazed the outside of her thighs, hips rolling and legs kicking, before she swung her arms back out of the water and repeated the stroke.

She stopped short of the pool’s edge, and turned to her brother.

“How was that?” she asked with a smile.

Viktor beamed and nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! Yes! Can you show me again? Slower this time?”

She did the best she could to slow her movements so he could watch and take mental notes. After a couple more laps, he paddled to the pool’s center and tried the stroke for himself. Katya treaded at his side offering adjustments when they were necessary.

“Keep your legs straighter when you kick . . . palms facing the ground . . . tuck your belly up as you go under . . . “

It was a harder maneuver even for those who were able-bodied, but Viktor did well despite his limitations. He tried again and again, steadily improving until he started to get fatigued, and his form began to suffer. Panting, he flopped onto his back and lazily kicked.

“It is strange being wet and sweaty at the same time,” he mused through gulps of breath.

Katya chuckled. “Yes, it is.”

It wasn’t long before they toweled off and redressed, heading home before the sun went low and made the Sumps even darker. On their way through an Undercity market, they passed a butcher’s counter and Katya’s mouth watered at the sight of oxtails, all lined up in rows of two. Her heart clenched at the memory of her shared supper. She wished she could’ve bought them, but even for scrap meat it was too expensive.

The next stall was a fishwife’s, the crates around her laden with various sea life. At one end of her counter, a bucket sat with melted ice. Katya peered inside and saw two scraggly tentacles.

“They’re the last of my batch,” the fishwife rasped. “No one wants ‘em.”

Katya chewed her lip. She was tired of oats and beans. She thought of what Enyd had said about teaching herself to cook.

“A lot of trial and error.”

“How much?” Katya asked.

“Ten cogs.”

“Ten cogs! Kecáŝ!”Katya muttered, disbelieving. Viktor let out a small gasp and shifted uneasily next to her. “You just said that nobody wants them. I’ll give you four cogs.”

“Five.”

Katya pursed her lips and grumbled a moment before conceding. The fishwife plucked the tentacles from their icy bath and wrapped them up. She thrust the wet package into Katya’s hands, and swiped the coins from her other palm. The fishwife slurred something under her breath, and it soured the young woman’s mood enough to forgo saying thank you.

As she ushered Viktor along, she noticed small bundles of herbs placed on the corner of the counter. Her eyes flicked back to the fishwife, who was busy counting her sales, and then back to the herbs. Quick as a wink and silent as a secret, Katya’s hand snapped up a bundle and stuffed it in her pocket.

Once home, Viktor limped to the shower and Katya began preparing their dinner.

Trial and error. Trial and error.

She kept repeating it to herself like a mantra as she cut and cooked the tentacles. She melted a scoop of cooking grease in a pan and added the appendages. They snapped and spat and curled. Their color, a dull, rocky gray, shifted into a brighter blue as they sat in the pan. The apartment took on the scent of the sea. The oil around them began to brown and she added the bouquet of herbs. She wasn’t sure if this was how one was supposed to do it. . .

Trial and error. Trial and error.

The smell of woods and something bright – close to lemon – joined the briny scent of the tentacles. A forest butted up against an ocean.

One thing Katya did know was that overcooked tentacles turned rubbery. She turned the stove off and swished the pan back and forth, coating the seafood in the herbaceous fat.

“Smells good!” Viktor said excitedly, appearing in the kitchen.

“I hope it’s good,” she prayed. “Go take your seat.”

He hobbled to the table and sat down as she grabbed plates, and placed a tentacle on each one. She carefully plucked the now damp and muted herbs from the pan. Were they supposed to eat these, too? Could they? She shrugged, put the bundle on her plate, and sat opposite her brother.

Initially, they took tentative bites at their dinner, tasting and testing. It wasn’t bad!

Trial and error.

Fatty and meaty in a way beans couldn’t compare with. The hot grease filled them in a different way than oats. The flavor the herbs imparted made the tougher sections of the tentacles worth chewing through.

Katya untied the herbs, and brought a limp, leafy stem to her nose and sniffed.

“Did the fishwife give you those, too?” Viktor asked.

“Yes. She tossed them in to make up for her unreasonableness.”

She popped the herb into her mouth and immediately spat it back out. Viktor laughed.

Trial and error.

When Silco and Enyd entered The Last Drop that evening, both were taken aback by the crowd. Even for a Saturday night, the tavern was bursting at the seams.

“Are any of these girls from the mill?” Silco asked, leaning close to his mother’s ear.

Enyd’s eyes swept over the crowd. It was difficult to see when there were so many bodies, and since she was so short. It also didn’t help that she had never really committed any other face from Clapper to memory, aside from Amos, Birdy, and Nasha.

She shook her head and raised her voice enough for Silco to hear.

“I don’t think so. I don’t see Nasha, anyway.”

She suddenly pulled away, and hid her face in the crook of her elbow as a sudden wave of coughing overtook her. She recovered and Silco guided them through the throngs of patrons to the bar. They were surprised to see that it was not Vander behind the counter, but Benzo. He hobbled to and fro, addressing customer’s needs, filling orders, and collecting dirty tankards. His color and disposition seemed better; his mood probably bolstered by the fact that he was no longer secluded to a bed.

“Where’s Vander?” Silco asked

He and his mother squeezed in next to Sevika who was seated on a middle stool, sipping the foamy head off her beer. She nodded in greeting.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Benzo replied with a sassy head bobble. He picked up a glass hidden beneath the counter and took a swig.

Silco’s lip curled and he spat, “Didn’t Kat tell you not to drink!”

Benzo blinked, confused. Sevika’s eyebrows quirked with interest.

“Kat? Oh, ya mean Kat-YA? Since when’re you on a nickname basis with ‘er?”

“Are you guys talking about Katya?” Annie cried, suddenly appearing with an empty serving tray.

Silco, Enyd, Sevika and Benzo all jumped at the young woman’s sudden entrance. She slammed the tray on the countertop, her pretty face clouded in a bitter expression.

“Janna, Annie,” Sevika grumbled, rolling her shoulders.

“She totally blew me off today!”

“You saw her?” Silco asked.

“Yeah. At the Shores with her little brother. I was with Becks and saw them leaving. So, I called and waved, and she barely looked at me,” she huffed, flicking one of her braids over her shoulder.

“I’m sure it wasn’t intentional,” Enyd offered. “She and her brother were probably trying to keep a schedule.”

Annie rolled her eyes, dissatisfied with this theory.

“She coulda said ‘hello’ at least,” she grumbled. Pushing her tray across the bar, she told Benzo, “The guys playing with Tolder want another round.”

As Benzo went about pouring a couple fresh pints, Enyd turned to Sevika.

“Why aren’t you at your father’s table playing cards?”

Sevika slurped her beer, silver eyes glancing over at her father. He was engrossed in his hand, smoking a cigarillo and leaned back in his seat. A small mound of coins was piled on his side of the table. The two other Trenchers were pitched forward, their noses in the fan of their cards.

“He told me he didn’t need help with those two,” she answered with a sly smile. “Good thing, too. I wanna sit in on this meeting.”

The thin line of Silco’s lips tightened, and he repeated his initial question.

“Where’s Vander?”

“He’s in the basement,” Benzo said, placing overfilled glasses onto Annie’s tray. “Playin’ with ‘is new toys. I told ‘im I could watch th’bar. Tired of bein’ cooped up anyhow.”

Enyd leaned toward the large man and whispered, “Have you seen Nasha? The girl we are supposed to be meeting with?”

Benzo finished loading up Annie’s tray and waved her off.

“I don’ know ‘er. An’ no one’s come up askin’ fer you or Van,” he replied, shaking his head. His face suddenly split into a grin, and he added, “But not fer nothin’ all o’ this,” he nodded toward the bustling bar floor, “is mostly people drawn here by the Children rumors.”

“So, the plan worked then,” Silco said, satisfied, eying the milling bodies.

Benzo snorted. “Yeah, every now n’ again that coal-dust addled brain o’ yours can come up with a good’un. People been comin’ in, pissin’ n’ moanin’ ‘bout the increased Enforcer activity; n’ askin’ if they can help.”

Silco let the insult slide, too distracted by the new numbers of Brothers and Sisters before him. He beamed at his mother and Sevika.

“Ope!” Benzo hiccupped behind them. “This your girl? She’s comin’ up like she means business.”

Silco and Enyd directed their attention towards the front of the bar. Indeed, Nasha stood a few feet from the door, her head craned over the crowd, eyes scanning. She had removed her bonnet and changed her drab work smock. Instead, she glittered and stood out. She’d pulled her hair into two, large puffs that haloed her head. Her clothes were an artful patchwork of deep, jewel-toned fabrics and brass fastenings. Clearly designed and stitched by her, as they molded to her tall and broad frame perfectly. And because it was unlikely any garment shop in the Undercity carried such things.

She spied Enyd and began gliding toward the bar. Patrons parted readily, some moved by the girl’s innately intimidating energy, and some because they didn’t want to be pierced by the pointed shoulder pads of her jacket. As she neared, they could see that she had literally painted her face. Purposeful and meticulous lines and dots of white and yellow accented her eyes and cheeks.

“Hi Ms. Enyd!” Nasha exclaimed brightly. “I almost didn’t see you.”

“Something I’ve struggled with my whole life,” the older woman joked, her arms flourishing at her sides to present her petite stature.

“Nasha, this is my son, Silco,” she introduced. “This is Benzo, and Sevika.”

Silco politely nodded, while Benzo gave her a finger wiggling wave. Sevika seemed frozen, her eyes glued to Nasha’s face, her jaw slack. A furious stripe of coral bloomed over her nose and cheeks.

“HI!” she cried, far too late. Her body jerked as she suddenly came back online, and she knocked her tankard over. “Oh, shit.”

The blush on her face deepened, and spread to her forehead and down her cheeks. She righted her glass and helped Benzo mop up her mess.

Nasha chuckled and turned back to Enyd.

“Where should we go to talk?”

“Vander’s in the basement,” Silco answered. “We’ll go down there. It’s quieter.”

Carefully threading through people in the crowd, he led Nasha, his mother, and Sevika (who tailed behind after pushing the sodden pile of towels over the bar) to the Drop’s private quarters, and then to the basement.

As the joyful din of the tavern faded, it was replaced by repeated deep, muted thumps, heavy breathing, and occasional grunts.

“Should we come back later?” Nasha joked.

Sevika giggled. Then snorted.

“Shit. Sorry,” she moaned, her face turning red again.

“No, come on,” Silco said, unphased by their guest’s unseemly implication.

He led them to the stockroom, and there they found a shirtless, rumpled Vander, gleaming with sweat. On his hands were the bulky gauntlets he’d picked up from Mek’s the day before. Before him was a large, heavy sack of flour that he had tied to a rope and affixed to the room’s rafters with a rudimentary pulley system. He was punching the bag with such ferocity that it swung to and fro, back and forth. Vander ducked, bobbed, and weaved as his adversary came at him, before laying into it with more hits. The bag, while a sturdy weave, was beginning to split and tear, trails of white flour spilling out like sand in an hourglass.

“Vander!” Silco yelled.

Despite being a mountain of a man, he jumped, clanking the gauntlets together and spinning around to face his impromptu audience.

“Oh! Hey!” he panted, a sheepish grin on his lips. His eyes suddenly landed on Nasha and he exclaimed, “Oh, shit! Is it that late already? Sorry! I musta lost track o’ time.”

He dropped the gauntlets on the floor, and hurried over to a stack of crates that he’d left his shirt on.

“That’s a waste of perfectly good flour, Vander,” Enyd admonished. She let her motherly disappointment of food waste over take her, instead of worrying about him practicing fighting. It was an easier and less complicated thing to focus on.

“I know, Ms. E. ‘M sorry,” Vander breathed, wiping his face with his balled-up shirt. “It was th’most Enforcer-like thing I could find. I wanted t’practice usin’ ‘em before I actually needed ‘em.”

Enyd’s jaw tensed and her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth.

“Can I try them?” Sevika asked, stepping forward and picking one of the gauntlets up.

“You fight, too, huh?” Nasha purred, eyes raking up and down the other’s body. “Is that how you got that figure?”

“Um,” Sevika warbled, her blush returning yet again.

“Let’s get to business, actually,” Silco said, stepping up to the flour bag and cutting its rope with the knife he kept in his sleeve.

The already split bag dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, and the seams on one side gave. Flour poured out in a misty avalanche that made Enyd put a bereaved hand to her forehead.

“So, yer Nasha?” Vander said, settling his hips onto a crate. “Enyd said ye got some intel on a crooked Piltie?”

“They’re all crooked,” Silco muttered, coming to stand at his Brother’s side.

Vander’s skin prickled at his proximity. He both wished he had put his shirt back on – instead of using it as a towel – and he was glad for the one-less-layer of closeness.

Nasha’s gaze dropped and she walked forward, scuffing her pointed-toed shoes through the flour.

“You’re really going to try and secede from Piltover?” she asked finally.

The flirty mask she’d entered with fell, and she fixed the two men with a firm, demanding look beyond her years.

“Not try,” Silco corrected. “We will gain our independence from them.”

Nasha lifted her chin, regarding him carefully.

“My aunt and I settled in the Undercity about ten years ago,” she said. “We left Noxus because she disagreed with their . . . expansionist politics. With their brutality. Our coin only got us as far as Piltover. The Land of Progress, we had heard. We didn’t have the means to live on their gilded streets; we had to move into their slums. And we’ve never been able to get out. We traded one myopic nation for another.”

She paused, and then added, “I want this information to be put to good use. I want there to be progress on the other side of it.”

“And there will be,” Vander promised. “When Zaun stands together, there will be.”

Nasha seemed satisfied with this. She told the small group what she had imparted to Enyd a couple days prior, and more. She told them about this Topsider’s money problems. About how he was going to pay his gambling debts with stolen coin. About how he was forging curtains and documentation to cover his tracks. About how his ‘package’ would be sent via airship the week after next. And about how he would be securing a private crew to deliver said package.

Some details were still vague, or unknown. Despite this, Vander, Silco, and Sevika quivered with excitement, and Enyd listened carefully. Nasha promised to flush out as much information as she could, and would bring it to the next meeting of the Children of Zaun.

“Thank ye so much fer this, Nasha,” Vander said, his face creased with relief.

“I want a free nation as much as any Sump-born Trencher,” she said. “You should be thanking Ms. Enyd. She’s the one who got me here.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Sevika chuckled. “Silco had to get his passion and doggedness from somewhere.”

It was Enyd’s turn to blush. A light, delicate pink that glowed under her pale skin.

“I just want that money back in the hands . . . of Zaunites. Where it should be,” she said quietly.

The rest agreed.

“If ye want,” Vander said, turning back to Nasha, “if ye head back up t’the bar, Benzo’ll give ya a drink. On th’house. It’s the least we can do fer you.”

Their new member hummed thoughtfully, gently swaying side to side. She reached out and twirled a loose piece of hair from one of Sevika’s buns.

“Show me the way?”

Sevika gawked at her for a moment, before saying, “Yeah. Sure.”

Very overwhelmed and pleased, she led Nasha from the storeroom and up to the bar.

“They’re not of age, you know,” Silco said, elbowing Vander’s arm lightly.

The larger man did his best to seem unphased by the contact.

He tossed a hand carelessly through the air and said, “It’s fine. It’s not like Enforcers are comin’ in here t’card people anyway.”

He winked at his Brother.

Enyd’s mouth split in a proud smile, looking at the two men in front of her.

“The bar is too full of revolutionaries to fit any Enforcers in it anyway.”

Notes: Heeeeey! Hope you enjoyed the cuteness at the start of the chapter because things are gonna start to become less sweet here on out. Things are also gonna start to pick up, too! It's time for this revolution to kick it into high-gear. It's also about dang time for things to pick up between Silco and Kat, no?

If you've made it this far, please comment and reblog! Or visit my askbox. I'm dying to talk with you about this story. Hugs n' kisses!

Coming Up Next: Silco can't wait to tell somebody about this opportunity! Katya seems a good a person as any! The Academy Board makes their decision regarding Rynweaver's concerns. Katya and Heimerdinger go toe-to-toe

Next Chapter

Tag list: @dreamyonahill @pinkrose1422 @altered-delta @beardedladyqueen @truthandadare

#children of zaun #coz #arcane #arcane fanfic #silco #viktor #vander #sevika #benzo #silco fanfic #viktor fanfic #orginal characters #ocs #fanfiction

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 8 months ago

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MarchWeres Day 12

Prompt: Tips n’ Tricks

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Tabby (oc)

Warnings: None

Tabby was no stranger to Daryl’s routine. The full moon was exhausting for him. It was the only time the change came with or without his willingness. He would rather stay with her, she knew that, but she also knew that sometimes it was difficult for her during that phase.

Though he had never hurt her, he had come close only once, and that was enough for him. It had been her own fault, approaching while he fed, maw deep in the belly of a deer, her scent shrouded. She had spoken his name and he had turned, bloody fangs bared and claws brandished. The fear in her eyes had been enough for him to banish himself from her company entirely.

Since that night, she spent the time during every full moon preparing and missing him. A thick blanket and a bowl of warm water waiting for when he approached. If he was late, she simply reheated it over the fire. Once he would drag himself from the tree line, he knew her routine just as well as she knew his.

First, the blanket around his shoulders. He was always naked when he returned, too overpowered by the shift to really give a damn. Tabby would wash him right there on the porch unless it was too cold. His hair could be dealt with more thoroughly later. The cloth would just be passed over it for the time being, washing away any loose dirt or debris. She took great care in cleaning him up, before guiding him inside.

He was rarely hungry, simply exhausted and aching. His human body, though altered, could never keep up with the extended, grueling shift during the full moon. A hot bowl of stew always sat on the table but he usually bypassed it for the water next to it, gulping it down along with the painkillers Tabby would have ventured to Alexandria to secure for him.

A comfortable pair of flannel pants sat strategically on the floor next to the bed. He simply needed to step into them and she pulled them up to sit low on his hips, always taking a moment to press a kiss to his shoulder blade.

The sheets were clean, the duvet turned down, another glass of water on the nightstand. He would drink that first and then climb into bed, asleep almost instantly. Tabby ensured he was tucked in tight and set about cleaning and putting things away, placing yet another glass of water by the bed and two more painkillers, before changing and crawling in with him.

There was nothing she could do to change his mind about his routine and keep him home, but she had her own little tips and tricks to remind him once he returned how much he was missed there.

#marchweres #marchweres2024 #day 12 #tips n’ tricks #daryl dixon #murda writes #the walking dead #daryl dixon x female oc #were!daryl #werewolves #werewolf au #werewolf

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the-slasher-files · 4 years ago

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DIFFERENT PREDATORS - chapter 2

INCLUDES ANDREI KULOKOVA x XAVIERA LAH-MO

Literally the perfect pair in slasher heaven, or I guess hell. This chapter gives you just more Andrei backstory and a look into his strengths and weaknesses. This little kitten is breaking him down, slowly but surely. If you haven’t already, check out part one.... enjoy 🔪💕

Please go read the chapter from @horrorslashergirl oc: Xaviera’s perspective linked HERE

MASTERLIST

Andrei leaned his head against the wooden headboard, closing his eyes, trying to just still his always active mind. Breathing deeply in and out around his cigarette that hung lazily from his mouth, ashes threatening to fall and burn his naked chest.

Turning his head to the window he just watched the snow fall hard, whipping around by the careless harsh mountain winds with sharp icy eyes. He could smell something good beyond the tabacco smoke littering the bedroom air; it was warm and hardy, something from home perhaps.

With that the woman walked into the bedroom again, carrying a tray of food like she said she would bring him and putting it on the nightstand. Two bowls of stew, again one of his favorites. The little lady was tugging at his tough soul through his taste buds. To his surprise she grabbed one of the bowls and sat in the old arm chair near the end of the bed.

Andrei took the bowl placing it in his lap, continuing to watch her as she spoke “It’s not poisonous if that’s what you’re wondering. If I wanted you dead I would have left you to the wild animals in the snow.” He gave a huff at her fierce personality, it was endearing, cute even.

Looking down at the bowl Andrei took a generous spoonful, closing his eyes savoring the rich flavors of the vegetables and rabbit meat; reminding him of home and his mothers recipes.

“I’ve been through worse, myshka.” The wolf told her with a smirk. Letting silence fall, and just listening to the cold wind howl, and tree branches brushes along the windows. He didn’t often find having company nice, but there was something about the stranger across from him that he enjoyed.

“Are you going to tell me now who you are and don’t play that stubborn game of telling me a false name, Andrei Kulokova. It’s not that hard to read your dog tags.” She spoke with confidence, not scared at all by him. Andrei’s icy blue eyes widened a little by having his full name called, he didn’t hear it often for no one really knew him, but it sounded so sweet coming from her lips even if her words were laced with venom.

“If you know my name is only fair to know yours.” Andrei glared harshly, not wanting her to see a trace of his enjoyment, something he was skilled at.

“Xaviera Lah-Mo.” She answered. Not an American name but something else, from somewhere that was unfamiliar to the mercenary. Andrei finished the warm stew, enjoying every last drop and placing the empty bowl on the nightstand.

Huffing he decided to try out his bandaged and twisted ankle. The solider had been through some of Russia’s deadliest undercover missions, he had been shot, stabbed, you name it; a twisted ankle wasn’t going to hold him down. Sitting up letting his feet hit the cold hardwood, he felt a small gentle hand push on his broad scarred chest.

Looking at her he glared a stony cutting gaze but she challenged his perfectly back. “Your ankle is twisted, you need to rest.” her order made Andrei raise his brow.

“What is it your business if I twist my neck?” Placing a big, rough hand on her arm gently, a silent warning for her not to pull a stupid stunt on him. “I know you care too much for me, but try not fall in love.” the wolf smirked flashing his canines, cockiness coating him like an armor.

Xaviera just rolled her blue eyes, making him huff a silent laugh “Don’t get all high and mighty. I don’t want to drag your stubborn self upstairs…. again.” his hand tightened slightly on her small arm, eyes growing dark “And don’t make me kick your ass out. There’s a blizzard outside and there are worse killers that I’m sure will love an injured prey.”

The wolf laughed a sinister deep laugh, eyes devouring the small woman in front of him, inching his face closer with a deadly grin. The battle persisted between the leopard and the wolf. A dangerous game more so of mental strength, each predator wanting to conquer the other.

“So much fire in such a little frame, darling…” he mused, lightening up his cigarette, blowing smoke in her face, making her venomous eyes intensify. “I like that” Andrei’s grasp becomes tighter on Xaviera’s arm, loose enough for her to escape but hard enough for her to still struggle. She became quietly flustered under his hand that oozed power, she tried to hide it but the solider was trained to read the smallest of body signals.

“You know… Some of the deadliest animals are very small.” She whispers almost in a hiss, sounding like a cat ready to lunge. Andrei had experiences with small but deadly predators. He grew up with one, and she gave him his largest scar to prove it. “Don’t make me scratch your eyes out.” the white-haired woman warned him, tugging her arm from his hold but without success.

The cigarette from between his lips hangs lazily, while he smirks her way. “Come and try it, little kitten.” and there it was again, the slow blush creeping up her neck and onto her fair cheeks. He was breaking her slowly.

“I’m not little.” She spat back, making him raise his brow again, looking her up and down with a little disbelief.

“Have you looked in mirror?” Andrei huffs and pulls her closer to him, imagining a sick fantasy that plagues him daily. “Your neck will be so small under my hand as I squeeze… your trashing will be like nothing to me, little kitten.” He spoke in a deep growl, watching her face form into a snarl, making the Russian smile sickly, canines peaking through open lips once again.

“If you touch my neck I am gonna castrate you, doggie.” The wolf only mere inches away from her face, one of his large and rough hands moves to gingerly run along her thigh, watching her every movement. She was trying to control her breathing, trying not to show the predator any signs of weakness but it was failing. Andrei saw the kitten breaking and it made him only want her more.

“Oh, you would love to get that close to me, wouldn’t you… that intimate.” he moved his hand from her arm to run the back of it along her blushing hot cheek “You don’t have to ask, baby girl, you know where to find me.” Andrei removes his hands with a little shove. Grabbing the hot earl grey tea from the nightstand, sipping it and holding eye contact. The wolf liked to play with his prey. Toy with it like throwing a mouse around by the tail.

Xaviera snorted at his naturally sexual ways. She didn’t know just how much the desire was burned within him from his past. “Keep dreaming, asshole. One more of that and I am gonna kick your butt in the snow.”

Andrei scoffed “Baby, I’m from Russia, the snow and cold is no bother to me.” he tells her with a cocky smirk. The wolf knew this was a different cold than the Russian tundra, and he would be stupid to be out in these mountains for too long, but it didn’t matter, he was winning this battle with the small woman.

“You’re infuriating.” Andrei smiles fully, a rare sight, as she just marched out of the room and he heard her go down stairs.

The stew feeling warm in his belly and a win of a social battle under his belt, he decided to take a nap, aware that there was a predatory lurking in the cottage Andrei knew he was safe, even if she did grab one of his knives and decided to stab him he knew that wasn’t her style. She was a long range hunter by the fact she had a sniper rifle and her inability to ever get away from him. He could sleep now. Memories of trauma and delusions fell from his brain as the wolf closed his eyes relaxing fully.

------------------------------

Andrei had been awake for about an hour now, just tossing and turning, he was never a good sleeper but especially tonight. He couldn’t seem to get the girl out his mind. The wolf tried to push it off as she was just small, weak and kind of like his sister, so maybe it was his brotherly protection showing it’s head, but laying there longer, his icy cold stare burning in the ceiling above him, Andrei knew this was more. Xaviera seemed to seep into his tough core, a place for only two other women in his life, one that died by his own hands, while the other left him and would occasionally visit him only to almost kill him.

Grunting and running his hands through his light brown hair and onto his scarred face, Andrei decided to retry his ankle without the small women being there to stop him. He hissed a little putting the full weight of the 200 plus pound predator on it, but he had been through much worse pain. Leaving the bedroom and making it down the stairs carefully, he saw her. She was curled up like a little kitten on a white fluffy blanket in front of the roaring fire. Walking over he quietly towered over her, a wolf watching the prey, watching every little scrunch of her face and every twitch of her hand. Xaviera was beautiful.

The Russian man turned to walk to the maps he had seen displayed on the table but something stopped him, tilting his back to the girl just thinking. The wolf wanted to leave her there, suffering on the hardwood, but Andrei wanted something else. As if her soul knew Andrei was watching with caring ice blue eyes Xaviera let out a small whine.

“Fuck” He groaned, the soft spot for women threatening to kill him once again. Andrei picked her sleeping frame up in his large arms with ease. She was like a doll to him.

So perfect.... One to take home...

Hobbling a little he made it upstairs, gently placing her in the bed that she let him use. Andrei observed her once more, the wolf nipping at his neck to grab the throat that was displaying her pluse to him, it was just so beautiful, the tendons, the muscles, but Andrei closed his eyes, balling his fists and clenching his jaw. He roughly turned and walked away closing the door behind him.

Looking over the cottage he found her maps, with little notes written small within the margins, and her arrows pointing to potential hot spots for the poachers. Curiously he looked them over, seeing if she had more information than he did. The solider within him always focused on the hunt. Then he saw the glint of the familiar metal shining in the low light. Grinning Andrei picked up his favorite knives skillfully twirling them around in his hands, but something made him stop. He heard a soft wail coming from the bedroom, and his grasp on the knives turned into a white-knuckle grip instinctively.

The wolf moved quickly across the living room and up the stairs. Wails turned into screams and his heart started to pound against his chest, breathing picked up at the thought of someone else potentially being in the cottage, sneaking past the skilled solider.

Barging into the bedroom scanning the surroundings, it was just him and the girl. No poachers or other hunters. Just the two predators, alone.

The wolfs eyes were sharp and cutting, looking at Xaviera who was on the floor, cowering in the corner, just a girl, not a predator any longer. Reminding him of his sister, shaking and hyperventilating, eyes scared and broken. A look he knew all too well. What demons lurked in the night had come for her and it tugged on his cold heart to see anyone go through that. Everyone had a past. Everyone had trauma.

Andrei laid the knives down on the tangled sheets of the bed, walking slowly towards her “sssshh... sssh... myshka” he whispered, bending down in front of her. Eyes still wild he needed to pull her out of this. “hey, hey... sssh... you’re fine” Andrei didn’t reach for her but just waited, allowing her to take as much time as she needed. “Little one, sssh” observing her he settled on the floor and surprisingly Xaviera reached for Andrei, clutching his shirt and resting her forehead against his chest.

His icy blue eyes widened at the sudden show of affection, but he welcomed it. Carefully placing unsure hands around her shaking frame, feeling her trying to even the breathing that was harshly stuck in her throat. This took him back to Russia, living in a dangerous home, comforting his sister under the moonlight from her night terrors, trying to desperately protect her from the brutal world they grew up in. Xaviera pulled away suddenly, uncomfortably. Taking a deep breath in and closing her eyes.

“It was nothing.” Xaviera told him in a quiet voice, exiting the bedroom and going downstairs.

Andrei sat there for a moment, breathing in deeply remembering the harsh reality of the world and how it twisted and fucked over the people within it, beating down even the strongest predators at times. He stood tall, grabbing the knives and sitting on the bed, absent-mindedly playing with them as he watched the snow fall in the night.

Two predators broken within, made tough with claws and teeth to present and hide the vulnerability under the skin.

#THEYRE SOULMATES!!!!#Andrei Kulokova #Xaviera Lah-Mo #horror #slasher #oc #slasher fanfiction #Andrei x Xaviera #my writing

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poorlittleangels · 5 years ago

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coming in with the draft

(just some more light and fluffy OC stuff)

Far north in the Imperial Capital, winter was fast approaching. Leaves were browning and dropping from trees, days were growing shorter and colder, and a fierce wind rattled windowpanes in every quarter. Today, it meant that Castor would be needing a heavy coat and something warmer to go under it, and that he'd have to come straight home to avoid being out too long. The changing seasons always managed to get him sick- a cold snap was followed by a cough or flu that stuck with him in some way throughout the whole winter. It felt sometimes as if his life were bouts of health in between illness, having already spent so much of his years in bed convalescing.

Today, he could feel his solace of health fading. As he rose from bed, his symptoms made themselves loudly known. His nose was stuffed up and his chest heavy with congestion, his bones heavy and hurting. He remembered that he had gone to sleep with a bit of an itch in the back of the throat, just enough to be concerning, but not enough to take a spoonful of syrup or a cup of tea to quell. He figured it was only the cold, dry air coming in, and that a hot bath tonight would clear it up just fine.

He was very wrong. Using a concerning amount of strength he managed to stand, only to immediately start coughing. He hacked into his sleeve wetly and tried desperately to catch his breath. Once it was all over, he paused, collecting strength. Never had a sickness gotten so bad just overnight, he thought. What had struck him this way, had blown in with the draft and sapped him of strength? He took a gulp of water from the glass on his nightstand and went about to start the day.

The rest of the morning went smoothly- his cough didn't come as violently as it had, and swallowing a bit of thick, syrupy medicine from his cabinet appeared to calm it down. He dressed himself warmly, in shirt and jacket and trousers with thick underclothes. Breakfast was laid out for him on the table - a bowl of porridge with honey. He was grateful for the sticky sweetness that coated his rough throat. He left for school along with his brother, wishing both his parents a good day, promising his mother to come home right away to avoid the cold and damp, as she worried horribly about these things.

The day at school passed somewhat without event. What weighed on him were his upcoming exams, which he had studied well for but not enough, he knew, to get the high marks expected of him. Getting around that day was a challenge, with his whole body aching fiercely. Even turning the page of his notebook was a strain. He brought some tissues around with him to cover his mouth, being interrupted by coughing fits every few minutes. Luckily, his instructors and lecturers saw that he wasn't feeling well, and let him off easy that day. Normally, he felt that being the royal son held him to a higher standard, which he feared falling short of.

What worried him was that instead of shaking off the morning congestion, it only got worse as the day went on. By his last lecture, he needed to excuse himself twice to step into the hallway for his cough. The fits lasted minutes, grating his throat, racking his frame, leaving him dizzy and lightheaded. He wiped his eyes, spit up some mucous, and returned, not meeting the concerned glances of classmates. He could barely focus.

He met with his brother in the courtyard and set on home. But as soon as they stepped outside, Castor breathed the freezing air and was thrown into another fit. He doubled over on the steps, face buried in his elbow, his brother alarmed. Alcinous eased him to the ground, where they both sat on the marble steps. He gently patted his brother's back, struck by how deep and throaty his hacking was, and how he wheezed for breath as though choked.

When the coughs subsided, Castor looked up to his brother. His skin, normally pale but ruddy, had gone white. His lips had a faint blue tinge, and his poor eyes were red, wet, and sore. Tears of exertion streaked down his face. Alcinous quickly produced a flask of water, urging him to drink.

Castor took a few sips and remained sitting, regaining his breath. He knew by now he was really, truly ill. All he could do was hope that he would only be kept in bed for a day or two instead of a week or two, and that it would be in his own bed and not a hard, clinical hospital mattress.

"Are you alright to go now?" Alcinous asked. "That sounded horrible - you ought to rest as soon as you finish your work."

Castor nodded and cleared his throat. He stood up, a little unsteady at first, and followed his brother back home.

Once inside, he hung his jacket and went to his room. Not having been heated all day, it carried a chill, and he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders while he sat at his desk. His father, once he retired home for the night, would surely have a fire made up in their living room.

He set about to finish some assignments in the meantime.

However, his illness struck fierce. As soon as he settled down, he felt that familiar scrape in his throat. His vision blurred and he felt like fainting. He shook it off, hacked some mucous into a tissue and tried to work. At best, he assumed, this was just a cold, and he couldn't let it interrupt his studying.

The coughing eventually grew so bad that he needed a break. He drank some hot water from the faucet and sipped a bit more syrup. After a while of regaining his strength, he picked up his textbook and read from it while lying down, afraid of inviting another fit by sitting up.

The sun set early that day, turning the grey skies an inky black, extinguishing in the faintest traces of pink and orange at the horizon. Castor watched it from his window, nearly finished with the reading. He had slowly been feeling better from resting and had only had two more horrible fits of hacking. They left him faint, lightheaded, and pale, tears streaming down his face and body aching. But it was ignorable now. After dinner, he resolved, he would skip supper, take a long bath, and turn in early.

Around dinner time, he heard a knock at his doorway. His father stood there, smiling.

"Come in," Castor said, though his voice rasped from his raw throat.

His father sat on his bedside. "Still studying? Do you have an exam coming up?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "Midterms." He coughed into his fist, softly at first, but then hacked.

His father rubbed his back once he had finished. "Dear, that doesn't sound good. How long have you had this?"

"Just today." Castor wiped a tear from his eye. "But I've been feeling a little off the past two weeks." It was true that he'd been not feeling himself lately, always a little fatigued and weak. But today was when his quiet malaise turned into a cause for concern.

"Do you have an appetite? We had something special cooked up for dinner. Nice hot beef stew with plenty of vegetables. Come, there's a fire going. Your mother misses you."

Castor sat for dinner and was helped to a bowl of stew. He stirred it around, not feeling very hungry at all, when normally he'd be stuffing himself. His family knew how he loved his food, almost to the point of a gourmand, so a fading appetite was a definite sign of something going wrong.

His mother looked at him, looked down to his still-full bowl. "Eat up, love," she said, "Nice hot food will leave you warm and full all night."

"It's really good," Castor said. "I'm just not feeling-" he coughed into his elbow. "Not feeling too good."

"You have a cough? How bad is it?"

Castor tried to respond, but was choked by congestion. He turned away and hacked into a napkin, feeling like he might expel his lungs along with the mucous.

"He wasn't doing well all day," Alcinous said for him. "When I met him after school, it was awful. I dare say it's gotten worse."

Castor convulsed forward. His mother laid a protective hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

He had coughed hard enough to bring up some of his meal, a sticky, foul-smelling mess in his napkin. He gasped for breath and sighed, excusing himself to clean up.

In the bathroom, he wiped his mouth and rinsed, his breathing ragged and rough. He wiped his brow with a cool cloth. Everything was beginning to feel very warm, to the point of making him sweat. He spit up a few trails of mucous. A faint trail of red fell from his mouth into the sink. Was he dying? Panic made his heart flutter.

He rinsed out his mouth again. His throat itched. Please, not again, he begged. He was launched into another fit, more violent than the last. With every cough, his vision grew dimmer, and a ringing in his ears grew louder. He couldn't control his lungs heaving so hard that they brought up even more of his dinner, which he puked into the toilet along with stringy mucous. A moment allowed him to catch his breath; he glanced in the mirror. His lips had gone blue, his eyes red, his face white but for a flush accross the cheeks from the exertion. He doubled over with the force of more hacking.

"Castor?" A familiar voice called for him, but he could barely hear it. Footsteps echoed down the hall. He couldn't catch his breath. He wheezed, desperate but unable. Things began to fade.

His brother knelt by him while he sunk to the floor. A few strong pats on the back brought up a blob of mucous spotted with blood. Gradually, the coughing died down, until he was able to breathe again. He fell back into his brother's arms, totally spent and almost passed out.

"That's it, just breathe," Alcinous urged. "Breathe." He laid a cool hand on Castor's forehead. They sat like that for a while on the bathroom floor, letting Castor recover.

"You feel a little warm," Alcinous finally said. "Let's get you up and into bed." He pulled Castor to his feet.

He wasn't ready for the sudden shock. The world spun around him and everything went cold, ringing, blurring. He felt his knees buckle, his head drop, and blacked out.

He awoke in bed. His brother was on one side, along with his mother. A doctor was on the other, having waited for him to awake. He was sat up, his temperature taken, his throat looked down, his heart and lungs listened to. His brother dosed him with a spoonful of cough syrup, the strong, foul-tasting, prescription stuff that made him gag. He washed it down with a steaming cup of tea. He was told he most likely had pneumonia, that his lungs were in bad shape, and that first thing tomorrow he'd be sent in for chest x-rays and blood tests and whatever else they needed to run on him. His cough was severe. Not fatal, but requiring good treatment and days off from school. He very well could have hurt himself worse - passing out and hitting his head, being deprived of oxygen, shattering a rib. He was feverish, he learned - not too hot, but enough that he felt delirious and weak. For now he was to rest and take plenty of fluids.

"Oh, honey," his mother whispered. "Poor angel. I know how you get coughs in the autumn, but it's never gotten so bad so quickly." She stroked his hair that had gone limp with sweat.

After his mother had gone to bed, giving him a sweet kiss on the forehead, his brother stayed to keep him company. He fed him pills to keep the fever down and to break up the sticky mucous in his chest, and read to him from one of his favorite novels until his eyelids grew heavy and he began to feel the pull of deep velvet sleep.

"You seem just about to drift off," Alcinous said finally, shutting the book. "Goodnight, then, brother - Shout if you need something - I'll have my door open to hear you." He squeezed his brother's hand.

Castor coughed weakly. "Goodnight," he breathed, "and thank you for taking care of me."

"Nonsense," said Alcinous, "I would care for you no matter what. Now don't you fret. The more you let yourself rest, the easier you recover."

Castor nodded. His lamp was flicked off. His chest was still leaden, his bones still aching, but he at least felt well enough to sleep.

#sickfic #fever #coughing #pneumonia #whump #fluff #my ocs #cough #sick #congestion #recovery #fainting #emetophilia #emeto #vomiting #puke

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roxashighwind · 7 years ago

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Cooking and Campfires | Valkyrie/Blonde Valkyrie (pre-Ragnarok)

Relationship: Blonde Valkyrie (Thor movies)/Brunnhilde | Valkyrie

Characters: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel) ; Blonde Valkyrie (Thor movies) ; Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Pre-Thor: Ragnarok (2017) ; Cooking ; Girlfriends - Freeform

Words: 972

Summary:

Brunnhilde moves the pan away from the fire and twists to look at the blond. “You are an absolute nuisance,” she replies without heat. She keeps the hot pan far from Skuld as she turns a bit further to press a kiss to her cheek. “Would you rather be the one making dinner for the unit?”

She holds her hands up and takes a step backward. “Oh heaven’s no.” -

Brunnhilde makes dinner for her squadron.

Notes:

Third prompt fill for the 2018 MCU Bingo! Ship: Brunnhilde/OC ; Prompt: Cooking

I (and my friend @spacefoxen) have named the blonde Valkyrie that gives her life for Brunnhilde. We call her Skuld for a few reasons, but the main thing here is to know that Skuld is the name that I will always use to refer to the blonde Valkyrie.

All of my fills (this first card and future cards) will be in a series, though they will not be related; each fill will stand on its own!

{also on ao3}

“You’re going to burn it.”

“Hush.”

“Brunnhilde, I’m serious. It’s going to burn.”

“Maybe you should stop distracting me then.”

Skuld squeezes her waist, nips at her ear. “You are an exemplary member of the Valkyrior. You should be able to do two things at once.”

“I’ll show you doing two things at once.”

Skuld laughs. “What does that even mean?”

She holds her hands up and takes a step backward. “Oh heaven’s no.”

“Do the two of you need some tent time?” Eir asks. She’s nearly got her hands in the fire. “I can take over if you do.”

She shakes her head. “No one can accuse me of shirking my duties because your sister cannot keep her hands off of me.”

Skuld swats at her and rounds the campfire to drape herself over Eir. “Someone sure thinks highly of herself.”

“Do not drag me into your lover’s squabble.” She pushes Skuld away only to pull her back a moment later. “You’re very warm.”

“How are you cold? You are basically in the fire.” Skuld watches Brunnhilde stir the meat mixture in her pan, lit from the front by the warm glow of the fire.

“It’s not a ‘lover’s squabble,’ Eir,” Brunnhilde huffs. “But she was trying to distract me from finishing dinner.” She carefully dumps the contents of her pan into the large pot that sits over the low-end of the fire. She stirs, and stirs, and gives a little taste. “Mmm, almost done.”

“Finally!” calls Purda. She’s on northern watch, pacing in measured strides from one side of camp to the other. “We’re starving, Brunnhilde!” A chorus of agreement follows her proclamation.

“Oh fuck off,” she replies. “You’re all being ridiculous.” She has stashed the pan she had been using on a stump near the fire specifically there to let it cool before she can clean it after dinner. She turns her attention to stirring the stew pot, doing her best to keep things from sticking to the bottom.

Skuld abandons Eir when another of the Valkyrior comes to sit by the fire. “I was just being a brat,” she says softly as she bumps up against Brunnhilde. “You’re rather good at keeping the food from burning.”

Brunnhilde laughs, and twists around to capture Skuld’s lips in a soft kiss. She gets pale blond hair in her face for her trouble, but she doesn’t mind. She hums as Skuld returns the kiss, and she breaks away to the sound of wolf whistles from a few of the other women. “I do appreciate a good buttering up.”

Her fair cheeks are stained dark red, and she pushes her hair over her shoulders. “I wasn’t ‘buttering you up,’ Brunnhilde.” She sticks close. “I’m serious. You’ve yet to lose a pot of food. Unlike some people.” She says the last a bit louder, and gets some softly annoyed replies from around camp. Skuld pushes gently at Brunnhilde’s shoulder to get her to turn back to the stew.

She goes when pushed, stirring the bubbling pot. “I suppose you’re right.” She gives the stew a quick taste. “I think this is ready.” She narrows her eyes to look at the few women around the fire.

Eir nudges her new companion, Hildegarde, and stands. “We’ll take bowls to those on watch.” She kicks her foot out at another of the women, Rota, and encourages her to stand as well.

“Thank you,” Brunnhilde says gratefully. She directs them to the pack holding all of their bowls, and carefully ladles stew into the dishes held out to her. Eir, HIldegarde, and Rota split up to take dinner to the Valkyrior on guard duty, and finally Brunnhilde can serve the women resting before their own turns at watch. “Do we know when the scouts should return?” she asks as she fills bowls.

Skuld, who has stuck to Brunnhilde’s side, answers. “At the change in watch.” When the line finishes, she holds up her own bowl, a larger one with two spoons held in place by her thumb.

“This is good!” calls Purda from her post, deep voice carrying across camp.

“Thanks!” Brunnhilde returns, and fills the last dish, passing it back to Skuld when she’s done. “Find us a nice spot while I kick down the fire?” She’s already lifting a stick to poke at the flames under the cookpot.

She stakes out a place for them, close to the fire but not so close that their toes will burn when they stretch out. She sets down their bowl and darts into their shared tent to grab a blanket to curl up with. “Do not give me that look, Eir. You could easily retrieve a blanket of your own,” she says as she returns to the fire.

Brunnhilde drops into place on Skuld’s left a moment later. She crosses her legs, smiles as Skuld covers her with the blanket, and settles the bowl on her knees. “We’ve got… two hours until it’s our turn at watch,” she says between mouthfuls of stew. “Oh this did turn out alright.”

“Told you.” Skuld has to lean close to share the meal, but she doesn’t mind, thigh pressing firmly against Brunnhilde’s. Her voice is a low whisper, just for them as she offers, “I think we could manage a quick lie-down if we finish this fast enough.”

Warmth that has nothing to do with the stew settles in her core, and Brunnhilde leans into Skuld’s space. “I suggest you eat a bit faster then.”

{thank you so much for reading! if you like what i do here, please consider throwing a coffee my way ♥♥♥}

#mcu #valkyrie #brunnhilde #valkyrie/blonde valkyrie #girlfriends #skuld #my fanfictions

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fanfic-shiz · 8 years ago

Text

Always You- Kili (Part One)

Pairing: Kili/OC

Prompt: sango-hentaitenshi asked: Can I request a Kili x Reader where Kili thinks she's into Fili and it takes someone pointing it out to him that it's KILI the reader is really crazy for? Bonus points if Fili knows this and uses it to wind Kili up and flirts hella hard with Reader. Thank you!

Warnings: None!

A/N: Okay, this turned into sort of a project lol meaning that it got really, really long. I feel bad for leaving you guys hanging, so I decided to break it into parts until I can finish it. Here’s Part One...Look for the next tomorrow!

Part Two

Nori was poking at the small campfire with a stick, trying to keep the flames alive, while Ori sloshed stew into another bowl. I felt some of my anxiety deflate, just a little. It was quiet nights, like this one, I looked forward to. Even though I knew they would be even fewer and farther between as we grew closer to the Lonely Mountain.

A few of the dwarves had already settled down for the night, curled up on old burlap sacks and snoring softly. I could see Bofur lying on his back, hat covering his eyes. Nearby Gandalf sat smoking a pipe, looking every bit the thoughtful, wizened wizard I knew him to be. As usual, Thorin sat further away from the others. Alone with his eyes turned in the direction of the home he had sworn to take back.

I had grown fond of all of them, enjoying each of their unique personalities. Even Thorin, though it had taken him time to accept me as a member of their company.

There was one dwarf, though, who I had found myself gravitating toward more than the others. One dwarf, who simply magnetized me. At the thought of him, my eyes found Kili. He and his brother were a short ways from the small camp, tending to the ponies. I watched as he smiled at one of the small horses and scratched it behind the ears. I had been witness to the destruction Kili could cause with a bow and arrow, or the swing of a sword. Yet his spirit was gentle, often even a little mischievous. I closed my eyes at night and his smile was often the first thing I thought of. That crooked grin that seemed to light up his entire face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. It was foolish. I was foolish.

Falling for anyone now would only lead to trouble.

“You sure are looking at something awfully hard.”

I felt heat creeping up my neck, hurriedly tearing my eyes away from the dark haired dwarf. Bilbo had appeared next to me, silent as a mouse. He was wearing a small, knowing smile.

“I’m hopeless, aren’t I?” I murmured, shaking my head. “I came on this quest for adventure, Bilbo. Not to fall head over heels for a dwarf. And an utterly oblivious dwarf at that.”

Bilbo clucked his tongue, and I noticed he was carrying two wooden bowls of steaming stew. “Yes, but you can only control what the heart wants so much, can’t you? And I know I’m not expert on…well, on romance, or love, or anything of that nature…of course I’m not…” he trailed off into a mumble and a smile twitched at my lips. “But maybe it wouldn’t be such a horrible thing? To let yourself love him. And to tell him, of course.”

My stomach tightened unpleasantly at the thought of revealing to Kili just how I felt. I would have almost preferred to face a pack of goblins then speak the truth to him. Even if there were days when I was so sure he felt the same. It was in his eyes when he looked at me, although perhaps that was just the overactive imagination of a daydreamer.

“Oh, I don’t know…I’m not so sure Thorin would approve of me longing after his nephew.” I sighed, allowing my eyes to flicker toward Kili once again. “Besides, there’s no guarantee Kili even returns my feelings.”

“Don’t worry about, Thorin.” Bilbo scoffed. Then he clamped his mouth shut tightly and threw a look over his shoulder, as if expecting the dwarf king to be right there listening. “What I mean is, um, you shouldn’t let that deter you.”

I smiled appreciatively at him, but his words hadn’t entirely convinced me. “Thank you, Bilbo.”

He nodded, standing a little straighter as if pleased he had been able to help me. “In fact,” he handed me both the bowls. “I was just about to take these to Fili and Kili. Why don’t you instead? It’ll be the perfect excuse to speak with him, and maybe..you know, tell him. Or not. Whatever you’d like.”

I looked down at the bowls in my hands and back at Bilbo. He merely smiled at me and traipsed away, hands in his pockets. I was left with butterflies in my stomach, staring at the broad-shouldered dwarf I’d grown so enamored of.

I sucked in a deep breath and carried the bowls across the short distance, where Kili was sitting on a boulder with his back to the small campfire. He had a pipe in his hand, forearms braced across his thighs. He looked up when he heard me coming, glancing over his shoulder. The corners of his mouth lifted into a grin, and my heart soared a little.

“There you are. Was wondering if you’d checked out for the night already.” He said, scooting over to make room for me.

“Not yet. Though to be honest, I’m not sure I could sleep right now if I tried.” I admitted, handing him one of the bowls. “Is Fili around?” I asked, looking around for his blonde haired brother. Secretly, I was glad for a moment with him and him only. It wasn’t often we found ourselves alone, not with a company of fifteen. And I especially didn’t want his brother around to tease me if I did manage to get the words that were in my heart out into the open.

I sat next to Kili, our shoulders brushing. His smile had turned into a frown as he looked away from his bowl and back toward the vast, sprawling field. “I’m sure he’ll return in just a moment. Did you want me to go search for him?”

I furrowed my eyebrows together, confused by his offer. “No, that’s alright. He’ll just have to eat a cold dinner.”

Some of the tension that had suddenly appeared in his shoulders left, and he relaxed. A peaceful silence blanketed us as he ate his dinner, both of us content to admire the view. Of course, I was entirely too aware of him to relax entirely. His presence seemed to fill me with a nervous energy, my heart too fast and my breathing too shallow. Not enough to be noticed by anyone but myself but there all the same. I snuck a look at him, admiring his profile. He was a collection of strong lines and angles, but it was the warmness and his eyes and his easy smile that drew me to him. Despite all that he had been through, he still had so much light in him.

“I don’t imagine we’ll have many more quiet nights like this one.” He said, breaking the silence as he set his now empty bowl down next to him. “Although with Bombur’s snoring, I suppose we don’t have any quiet nights at all.”

I laughed. “So easy for you to tease when you’ve no idea I’ve been kept awake by your snores as well.”

Kili turned to me, eyebrows raised in mock offense. “You don’t mean it. Your ears must be deceiving you.” His voice had taken on a teasing tone, eyes dancing with mirth. “You must be thinking of Ori, or Bofur.”

I shook my head, grinning. “No, I know what I’m hearing. You, my dwarf prince, are a snorer.”

He bumped his shoulder playfully with mine, making my stomach tumble. “Believe what you must. I know, with absolute certainty, I have never snored a day in my life.”

I laughed, feeling a sense of contentment fall over me. One I hadn’t felt for many years. I had been worried I would regret my decision to join the dwarves. Gandalf turning up on my doorstep had been the last I’d been expecting. While the journey had been long and hard, I found myself grateful I stepped out beyond my front gate. While there was so much evil and ugliness, it was easy to forget that the world could also be a beautiful place.

“I can not wait to see the mountains.” I said after a moment, imagining the high peaks dusted with snow. Like the pictures in my books but grander.

“You will not be letdown.” Kili answered, giving me a sideways smile. “Some find the mountains crude and an eyesore. For me, they are home.”

A wistful tone appeared in his voice, his eyes far away. I knew he was thinking of the Lonely Mountain, the way Thorin did each night. I smiled softly and let my body lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder.

“You’ll have your home again soon.”

He let his cheek rest against the top of my head, making my smile grow. I remembered Bilbo’s words. If there ever was a time, this was it. While we were alone, and while the moment was so calm.

“Kili, there’s something I need to tell you.” I began, hesitating a moment as I worked to gather the rest of my courage. My stomach was tying itself into knots.

“Hm? What’s that?” He asked, his voice mellow, unsuspecting.

I took in a deep breath and let it out.

“I see how it is, leave me to chase after the stray pony while you lounge about with this beauty!” A familiar voice called.

Just like that, the moment was cracked and my courage with it. Yet as I caught sight of Fili coming out of the tall grass to my right, his wide grin made it hard to be angry with him. Disappointed maybe, but it was hard to be bitter with either of the brothers.

“You’re the one who offered, if I remember correctly.” Kili shot back, giving his brother a smirk.

Fili waved his hand at him, shrugging him off, as he dropped down next to me. He slung an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side in one of his tight, friendly squeezes. I felt Kili stiffen next to me.

“Thought you’d be sound asleep by now.”

“Maybe I would be, but I’ve been sitting here waiting to give you your dinner.” I told him, pointing to the wooden bowl resting on shelf of rock next to me. Fili brightened, his arm leaving my shoulder as he reached down and grabbed the bowl. “It’ll be cold now.”

“Hot, cold. Doesn’t matter. Food is food. Especially when brought to you by a beautiful maiden.” Fili winked and I rolled my eyes, laughing.

“Don’t get used to it.” I warned him jokingly.

Kili suddenly stood, brushing the dirt from the back of his pants. The smile had vanished, and his eyes looked troubled. He met my gaze for a fleeting second, before he looked at his brother and back at the ground. “I’ll go check on the ponies.”

“But I just did that!” Fili protested around a mouthful of stew, but Kili was already stalking away with his head down.

I stared after his retreating back with a pain in my chest, his broad shoulders squared. His entire demeanor had changed so suddenly, and I could think of nothing that could’ve done it. Aside from the arrival of Fili, but why would his own brother cause such a shift in mood? They were close, the best of friends.

“Was it something I said?” I murmured, more to myself than Fili.

The blonde dwarf gave me a small smile, eyes twinkling. “Not at all, love. He thinks you fancy me is all.”

My eyes went wide. “He what?”

Fili finished off another spoonful of stew, looking mildly amused at my response. He swallowed then shrugged his shoulders. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Kili is crazy about you, but for somer reason has it in his head that you prefer me.”

My cheeks grew hot. “He can’t be…can he? About me?”

Fili’s eyes softened as he set down his bowl and looked at me. “I know my brother, Talia. The way he looks at you, he’s never looked at anyone the same.”

I ducked my head, suppressing a smile. My heart was trilling happily inside my chest, though the joy dimmed a bit as the surprise faded and reality reappeared. “Do I…Do I really act like I fancy you instead of him?” I asked.

Fili let out a laugh. “Of course not. Anyone with two working eyes can see you’re just as struck with him as he is with you.” He pointed out. I felt his fingers on my chin as he gently lifted my face to look at him. His smile was kind. “My brother is many things, but observant apparently isn’t one of them. I’m afraid you may have to just tell him plainly.”

My shoulders heaved as I let out a sigh. Fili dropped his hand and resumed his dinner. “I know. Bilbo said the same. That’s actually what I was trying to get to before you showed up…” I admitted, toying with a loose thread on my shirt.

Fili looked at me with a wide grin. “I know��I should also be honest and tell you that I plan on tormenting to living hell out of Kili over this. So the sooner you tell him, the better.” He winked and I let out a groan, smacking his chest with my hand.

“You are mean, Fili.” I chided him.

“We’re brothers, Talia. It’s what I’m meant to do.”

#kili x reader #kili x oc #kili #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #kili fanfiction #kili imagines #kili angst #kili fluff #the hobbit fandom

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