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eliaskahtri · 1 year

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Machamps, Hypnotoads, and Pikachu || Elias & Felix

Location: The boggy woods

Timing: October 12, midday

Parties: Elias (@eliaskahtri) & Felix (@recoveringdreamer)

Summary: Felix goes off the beaten path to catch a Machamp . Elias, who got bored with the regular path, runs into him. The problem is, so does a ballybog.

Content Warnings: Brief mention of Elias taking prescription medication

Did anyone actually play Pokemon Go anymore? Felix was pretty sure the answer was a resounding no, but they were out here, anyway, staring at the app on their phone and trudging through the forest. “Who puts a Machamp in the middle of the woods?” Felix muttered to themself, staring at the phone screen. Getting close now, at least. Just a little bit farther and…

Their foot found something wet, and the balam made a face. Gross, gross, gross. Lifting a shoe, he shook it. Somehow, they’d wandered into a bog of some kind or another, which felt like the last place they wanted to be. But they were so close now, they couldn’t just give up. They’d fought too hard for this. They were getting their fucking machamp.

“Okay,” Felix breathed. “We can do this. You and me, buddy. Let’s go.” They weren’t entirely sure if they were talking to the phone in their hand or the jaguar sharing their body. The latter probably didn’t care about Pokemon, and the former wasn’t sentient. There was no good answer. They moved forward anyway.

—

Elias didn’t often go off the beaten trail when it came to hiking. But after going through the same trail so many times before, he found himself growing bored. So despite his better judgement, he walked off the marked path and into the woods. He was careful to avoid tripping over any fallen trees or branches, investigating the woods around him.

The more he walked, the more the earth beneath his feet turned from solid to moist, the mud sticking to his shoes and make squelching noises. He thought about turning around, not wanting to have to deal with all the mud, but he perked up when he saw someone hunched over their phone.

“Didn’t expect to see anyone else out here.” He admitted, taking a step closer to the other, hoping he didn’t scare them by suddenly interrupting his deep concentration into whatever it was he was doing. Now that he realized how off the beaten path he was, he started to seriously hope it wasn’t something nefarious. Elias also hope the person heard his footsteps and didn’t jump out of his skin at the sound of his voice.

The voice was startling, especially when Felix was so intently focused on the phone in their hand. Even with their senses, which were better than most, a good distraction could make all of that a moot point. They jumped a little at the newcomer’s voice, spinning around quickly to face them.

“Oh,” Felix chuckled nervously, glancing down at their phone. Oddly, it felt as if they’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing, as if the man was going to yell at them for playing a phone game in the bog. Maybe it was because of the way Leo had always treated habits like this, the way he’d berated them endlessly for enjoying anything that he didn’t think was worthwhile.

Shifting their weight, they glanced down at their feet with a shrug. “Sorry,” they said, without really knowing why. “I, um… It’s stupid. I was playing a game. Are you — Do you live nearby? I hope I’m not, uh, trespassing or anything.”

—

Elias perked up at the mention of him playing a game. “Oh yeah?” He asked, trying to think of a reason someone would be outside on their phone to play a game. Then, the pieces started to fall into place. “Are you playing Pokemon Go?” He asked, pulling out his phone to reveal that he’d had the app running in his pocket the whole time. “Gotta hatch these eggs somehow.” He spoke with a nod of his head, clearly excited that there was someone else in town that still played the game.

“Sorry to freak you out, I just found myself bored with the marked path and found myself wandering into the woods.” Elias admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed expression. He should have known better than to venture out, but sometimes he wanted to see what other people decided he couldn’t. “I don’t live anywhere nearby, I just like to go for walks and runs around here.”

He looked down to his phone, seeing that there weren’t any good Pokemon in the area. “Nothing good,” he muttered before sticking his phone back into his pocket. “I’m Elias,” he introduced. “Cool to meet someone that still plays the game.”

As the stranger seemed to guess what they were up to, Felix prepared himself for judgment. Pokemon Go was, like, years past relevant. No one played it anymore, and he knew it. But the man pulled a phone from his own pocket, and Felix’s face lit up. “Oh, hey, no way!” They leaned in to look at the screen, looking pleased. “I kind of thought I was the only one still messing with it.” Mobile games were like that — all the rage one day, completely obsolete the next. Felix was just the kind of guy who had trouble letting go. Angry Birds lived on, if only in his heart.

“Hey, uh, no worries. Right? It’s public property… I think.” They really had no idea, if they were being honest. Was the bog public property? There was no one else around, but that was probably because it was a bog. People didn’t tend to hang out there. “Oh, it might not be… The best place to walk or run? There’s a lot of animal attacks out here.” A large portion of which from things that weren’t actually animals. Felix might not have been the brightest bulb in the box, but they knew wildlife. Ten years of living off the grid would give you that much.

Nodding, he tucked his phone away. They’d get it back out later, but it seemed rude to have it in hand while having a conversation. And Felix hadn’t been raised to be impolite… at least, not for the first fourteen years of their life. What happened after that was more of a free for all. “Felix,” he replied, holding a hand out for Elias to shake. “Definitely cool.”

—

Elias chuckled at the other’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, it’s definitely harder to do raids these days when there’s really no one left to play the game.” He responded with a shrug of his shoulder. “It was so fun when it first came out, the people remembered they didn’t like going outside and stopped.” He spoke after pulling his phone back out, looking at what pokemon were around, only to see a Pidgey and a Machamp. “I guess there’s nothing too good out here.”

He took a step forward, looking down on his phone to see that his egg was hatching. Darn, a Turtwig. He already had that. “Damn,” he muttered to himself before putting another egg into the incubator and finally looking up from his phone. “I mean, it’s the middle fo the woods.” He answered, looking around. “Public-ish.” He decided on, nodding his head as if it made it more final (it didn’t, he had no idea where he was.)

“I know, but I’ve hiked in some strange places.” He admitted as he finally put his phone back into his pocket. “I guess I just haven’t been warned enough times to finally learn my lesson.” He looked back up at who he now knew as Felix. “Pleasure to meet you, Felix.” Elias spoke with a bright smile, something he always did when meeting someone new. “Did you catch your Pokemon you were after?” He then asked, raising a brow in slight amusement. After all, they’d walked all the way out here for whatever it was pinged on his phone’s radar.

“I still like it, even without the other people. It’s kind of calming. Plus, it makes walks a little more exciting, right?” Though said walks did sometimes bring you out to the middle of nowhere. But, hey, at least the company was decent, right? Felix might have just met the only other person on Earth who still played Pokemon Go. That had to count for something. “I was after the Machamp,” they admitted. “I really like those.”

Whatever hatched from the egg on the man’s phone didn’t seem entirely exciting, though Felix found themself shooting him a curious look anyway. “Public enough,” they confirmed with a nod. “Private property kind of seems like a joke to me, anyway.” Ironic, coming from someone whose father had killed anyone who stumbled across the family homestead in the woods. But that had never been about property, had it?

“Hopefully you never have to learn it the hard way.” Their father was gone now, no longer in that cabin in the woods. Felix still didn’t know where he’d gone, was afraid of the answer, but at least it meant that portion of the woods was safe for people like Elias. Or… as safe as any woods could be in Wicked’s Rest. “Pleasure to meet you, too. I haven’t caught it yet, but I’m close. Probably just a little further into the bog.”

—

Elias caught their curious gaze. “Turtwig.” He explained. “I already have a bunch of those.” He then smiled at the idea of coming all the way out here for a Machamp. It took dedication, that was for certain. “Personally I’ll do anything for a shiny Torchic.” He confessed, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket to alert him of a new Pokemon in the area. Taking it out, all he saw was a Bellsprout. He shrugged, knowing he didn’t have a Victreebell yet and clicked on it, making quick work of throwing his Pokeball by swirling his finger around on his phone screen and catching it. Then, he ground it into candies. No justice for Bellsprout on this day.

“I can understand someone’s backyard being private, but if you own part of a bog, I don’t see why you would care if someone came back here.” He shrugged a shoulder. “No houses nearby anyway. So even if it was owned, there’s clearly no one here to chase us away.” He paused for a moment, visualizing an old man waving a can over his head shouting at them to get off their lawn. “At least, there’s no one here yet.” He amended, looking around. Nope, not a soul.

“Well if you’d like a Pokemon Go parter to accompany you, I’d be happy to follow.” He spoke, now thoroughly glued to his phone now that there was someone else that played the game that he’d come across. “Shall we?” He questioned, smiling brightly at the other with an excitable glint in his eyes.

“Ah.” Felix was pretty sure they didn’t play the game the way they were necessarily supposed to. They’d never really been into the idea of trading the things they caught for something else, or using them to gain in-game currency. Felix, to the surprise of perhaps no one who knew them well, got overly attached to the little digital beasties they caught. Every single one of them was meticulously named based on things like what they were, where they were caught, and what vibes they gave off. “Everybody’s got their favorites, right? And Torchics are cute.” Really, most of them were cute. That was why they liked Pokemon.

They nodded as Elias spoke of backyards and houses, glancing around. “No houses that we can see,” they mumbled. The cabin they’d grown up in had been fairly well hidden, to the point that you couldn’t see it until you were practically on the porch. But that wasn’t really the standard, was it? Neither was traumatized people who killed anyone who stepped foot on their land. Felix’s father, they figured, was a one of a kind sort of guy. “But I think you’re probably right. We’re safe.” For now.

But… it felt better doing this trek with someone instead of alone, anyway. So Felix nodded, glancing down at his own phone. “Let’s go,” he agreed, walking further into the bog. Something moved on their phone camera, and they looked down at it. “Oh! I found a… Wait.” They dropped the phone. Oh. That wasn’t a Pokemon. That was an actual frog. A bog frog. Ha. It looked a little funny, didn’t it? Almost like… “Oh, shit!” Felix quickly jumped in front of Elias, trying to bring their shirt up to cover their skin… a beat too slow. The toxin landed on their neck and hand, and the balam let out an uncharacteristic string of curses.

—

Content to follow after the other, Elias carefully followed along, picking his feet up awkwardly when they’d get stuck in the mud, finding himself drawn down to his phone as Felix was. There was a rather realistic looking thing on his screen, froglike. He blinked, but noticed too late that it wasn’t, in fact, on his phone. As soon as Felix dropped their phone, His eyes widened as they jumped in front of him, why would he be so quick to protect him in such a way? Elias quickly picked up Felix’s phone and dragged them backward away from the creature, brows knit together in worry as he did so.

“What the fuck was that thing?” Elias exclaimed as he continued to drag them backward. “What did it hit you with?” As soon as he had put a significant distance between the two of them and whatever that animal was, he quickly turned Felix around to look them over, eyes wide with worry. He knew better than to touch whatever the hell it was that the animal had spat out at them, but knew that he had to get it off of them before it did more harm. Whatever it was couldn’t be good.

He didn’t have anything on him to help, and began looking around as if he’d find something. “We’ve got to get that gunk off of you, who knows what it does.” He began to explain, half wondering if he should rip his own shirt and use it as a towel. “Are you alright?” He then asked, knowing he should have asked them that question a lot sooner.

Hey, Pokemon Go guy saved their phone! It was a half-delirious thought, driven by adrenaline and — wow. That was some fast-working frog spit, wasn’t it? Or was it a placebo effect in play? Felix knew what the ballybogs did, so maybe their mind was already working overtime in preparation for it, adding… bunny ears… to Elias’s head all on its own. They were nice ears, at least. Felix reached out a hand, swatting absently at them in a way that was incredibly catlike. It might have been telling to someone who was in the know about this sort of thing, but to a human with no idea that a certain number of the population had jaguar spirits sharing their bodies? It probably looked like nothing.

“Whaaaaaat,” Felix drew out the word, watching Elias panic with a lopsided smile. He looked like he was freaking out a little bit, which was… kind of nice, actually. Felix hadn’t had anyone freak out with worry over them in a long time. A looong time. Words were funny, weren’t they? Something moved in the bog behind Elias, capturing Felix’s attention. The giant pterodactyl coming towards them was — okay. That was probably not real. Right? Right. But if it was real, its talons were headed, like, right for Elias, which wasn’t ideal.

Thinking on their feet, Felix shoved Elias into the swampy water of the bog and fell on top of him, arms covering his head. “It’s all right,” they slurred, looking up. “I scared it off. I’m good with animals. I’m —” They cut off, realizing belatedly that, hey, Elias had asked if they were okay. “I’m good! I’m great! Did you always have the whiskers? Mine only come out sometimes, y’know, but if you wanted to — to match, I could… oh my god, a Pikachu?”

They were off Elias in a heartbeat, leaping to their feet at a speed that probably shouldn’t have been possible and scampering farther into the bog in search of a Pikachu that… well, considering the fact that they weren’t holding their phone, couldn’t be on the app. It must have been a real Pikachu. Yeah. They were totally taking that little guy home and feeding it some tuna.

—

One minute, Elias was standing, and then next he was being pushed into the bog. Great, now he was all muddy and wet. A simple chickadee flew past them, tweeting away. Was… was that what he was being pushed out of the way for? Whatever the hell the stranger got hit with, it was definitely messing up their inhibitions. Great, so now they were high. Then, the complete stranger was on top of him. Letting out a grunt as the other landed on top of him, Elias made a face. One thing was for sure, and that was that he couldn’t leave this person alone. He was way too out of it.

Thankful as Felix lept off of him (Elias was having a hard time processing the speed of which they were able to do so), Elias slowly rose to his feet, not bothering to try and wipe anything off, his clothes were now, for all purposes, ruined. He made a face down at his clothes, realizing how ruined they were. Surely Naya would be asking question when she saw him.

As Felix began to talk to him again, Elias blinked. Good, he was fine but… Pikachu? Elias bent his head forward, as if he had misheard what he said. “Are you… sure?” Elias then asked, holding out Felix’s phone for them to take back. “I’m… I’m not Pikachu.” He then tried to explain, knowing that it would most likely fall on deaf ears. Still, he had to try. “We should probably get out of here.” He then tacked on, motioning the way that he came, back to the path.

Elias was not excited enough about the Pikachu scampering around just behind him. Didn’t he get it? This was an actual, honest to god Pokemon! Right here in their bog! Maybe he thought it was in the app. Felix looked down at their phone, still in the man’s hand. Was Elias looking at that instead of looking at the bog in front of him? Felix thought back to being fourteen, just before their world shifted into something completely unknowable. Brand new cell phone in hand, the kind that flipped open and shut, texting away in that silly, early 2000s style. LOL. OMG. WTF. They remembered their father shaking his head, saying, you’re going to end up with your hand attached to that thing if you’re not careful. We’ll have to have it surgically removed. A few months later, it had been crushed under the wheel of the family truck when they’d been whisked away to live in the woods, so they guessed they’d been spared the technology addiction. Maybe Elias hadn’t been quite so lucky.

Felix slapped their phone out of Elias’s hand, letting it land in the bog with a satisfying squealch. “We don’t need that, dude! The Pikachu isn’t in there.” They put both hands on either side of Elias’s face, gently turning his head towards the Pikachu so he could take it in. “Right there. Do you see it? I hope it gets along with cats. I’m going to take it home.”

Without another word, they dropped their hands from Elias’s face and quickly moved towards the ‘Pikachu,’ crouched down and careful in spite of their speed. They looked very much like a jaguar on the prowl, slowly approaching their ‘prey.’ But Felix had no intention of hurting this little guy. They’d give the Pikachu a good home. The Pikachu would be very happy with them, safe and protected. They wouldn’t make it stay in a pokeball all the time like some kind of asshole. Looking back as Elias spoke again, Felix squinted. “We’ll go home as soon as I catch it,” he promised in a whisper.

—

Elias threw his head back and groaned as he realized this stranger was going to go off and get himself hurt by God knew what. The bog was already infested with toxic toads, and now they were off chasing something they thought was a Pikachu? No, he couldn’t just leave, even if he badly wanted to. He was soaking wet and muddy. He felt gross. But the last thing he wanted to do was leave someone completely helpless in such a delusional state. “Pikachu isn’t real, we really need to go.” He insisted, placing a hand on the other’s shoulder.

He looked out to what exactly they thought was a Pikachu, only to see a small rodent-like creature. Its fur was white, but that wasn’t the part that stood out to Elias. No, the part that stood out the most was the red gem in the middle of its forehead. “What the…” his brows knitted together at the sight, leaning forward as he inspected it further. That did look like a Pokemon. Tilting his head to the side, he stood there with his mouth hanging open, the other hand still firmly planted on Felix’s shoulder. “We really shouldn’t disturb it. It lives here, after all.” He tried to reason, voice in a low whisper.

The creature turned its head toward them, ears twitching with an empty gaze. Why wasn’t it running anymore? Then, it turned its full body towards them, and let off a bright flash of light that left Elias unable to see. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes, and when he finally could see again, it was gone. “The hell just happened?” He found himself asking, looking around for the mysterious creature.

“Everything’s real!” Felix’s voice was a gleeful singsong, excitement clear in their tone. Most people thought that turning into a jaguar wasn’t possible, too, but Felix did that all the time. Most people also assumed that being literally bound to your word and forced into an underground fighting ring against your will was the kind of story that existed only in very messed up fairy tales but, hey, that was also real! That one, of course, made Felix feel a lot less happy than the Pikachu scrambling around the bog, so. You know. Forget it.

Finally, Elias seemed to see the Pikachu. Thank god. Felix didn’t have time to sit here and explain the Pikachu to him when it was right there in front of them. They had to get going. They had to catch ‘em all, right? To be the very best. Elias got it. He had to. “It could live with me,” Felix insisted. “I’d walk ‘im every day and feed him, too. You think he likes tuna? God, I know he does. Everybody likes tuna. Tuna’s the best.” The jaguar hummed in agreement. Even he was quieter now, the dull roar of anger that usually vibrated from that part of Felix’s mind more akin to the quiet contentment that could usually only be achieved with a whole lot of catnip. Thank you, hypnotoad, for your service.

But the Pikachu didn’t seem particularly interested in being captured. It turned and looked at Felix, and then let out a flash of light so bright that it sent the balam stumbling backwards. “Whoa,” they breathed, blinking the stars out of their eyes. “Thundershock. Hey, where’d he go? Do you have —” They cut themself off, brow furrowing. “I don’t even have a pokeball.”

—

“I think you need medical attention!” Elias called out as Felix chased whatever the hell that thing was. It was like dealing with a toddler that needed to be put on a leash, and man was Elias terrible with children. “I’ve only been in town for, like, a week at most and I’m already doing this.” He whined to himself, taking a stop to catch his breath. It wasn’t that he was winded persay, but the excitable nature of the clearly very high Felix was really wearing him out.

“I mean, yeah it could live with you the way a live piranha could swim with you while you take a bath, that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea!” Elias’s eyes were wide and wild. As much as he loved the idea of Pokemon in real life, a wild animal was a wild animal. “Felix, please. I know I don’t know you very well but please listen to me. That frog thing back there, it clearly did something to you and you’re not in your right mind.”

His mouth fell open when the creature emitted a flash of light that seemed to hit the other, and he quickly ran over to Felix, hesitantly putting a hand down onto his shoulder. No shock, that was good. “Yeah, it used thunderbolt, does that mean we don’t continue chasing it?” He asked, clearly at his wit’s end. “Fresh out of pokeballs, my friend.” Elias announced, making a show of patting down all his pockets. “So please, can we get back to the trail?” He was exasperated, and he was almost positive he took his meds this morning, so there was no way that he was hallucinating again, right? Felix seemed to be seeing it, so maybe… maybe this wasn’t all in his head. Nope, he was going to store that away for later. That was a later Elias problem to unpack.

There was a hand on their shoulders, and that was kind of nice, wasn’t it? Felix continued blinking the light out of their eyes, slow and cautious. Their nose wrinkled a bit, making them resemble either a confused kitten or a person about to sneeze. Funny how those two expressions looked kind of similar on a human face, wasn’t it?

“I don’t need medical attention,” they replied, and despite the ballybog’s toxin making everything feel floaty and far away, they bristled a little at the suggestion. For a lot of pretty obvious reasons, Felix tended to avoid doctors and hospitals. The whole ‘shapeshifting jaguar’ thing left them with physical quirks that were hard to explain, and the scars and injuries in various states of healing that came along with their ‘profession’ were similarly difficult to slide by a medical professional. But that was all right! There were no medical professionals here. Just two Pokemon trainers and a Pikachu!

A Pikachu that was proving a little harder than usual to catch, but that was okay. It would change its mind when it came home with Felix and saw how cool their apartment was. Milo would totally pitch in to help, and the cats would love it. Felix just needed to find it… and find a way to catch it sans pokeball. Luckily, they had a couple of tricks up their sleeve. “No problems,” they said, ducking out from under Elias’s hand and taking off again. “I can sniff it out. And he’ll help me catch it. He thinks it’s cool, too.” He being the jaguar, who might not necessarily think the Pikachu was cool, but did seem interested in helping Felix catch it. Teamwork made the dream work, or whatever.

Sniffing the air, Felix paused and made a face. “Oh. Right.” They stopped, humming for a moment as they began to shift. Not all the way — they didn’t want the jaguar to eat Elias or the Pikachu, which was totally something he’d do even if he was all chilled out on hypnotoad juice — but enough to fill the air with the crack of breaking bones that tended to accompany bigger shifts. Nose. Eyes. Ears. Tail. Back legs, just enough to give them that little boost of extra running strength. No claws on their hands — they didn’t want to hurt the Pikachu — but soft pawpads to make grabbing it easier. Fur covered the shifted parts, and their hair softened and lightened a little. The shift, while partial, was enough to bring the jaguar out just a little. Not enough that Felix was forfeiting full control, but certainly enough to make their movements more animalistic as they took off again, catching the scent that could only belong to the Pikachu.

—

Elias stared at the semi-shifted Felix is abject horror. There was no way this was happening. And his medication had been working so well, too! But then again, it looked so real. “Do you have… ears? A tail?” His voice came out high-pitched and terrified, something that caused him to curse under his breath at. He had heard the cracking of bones, but surely this had to have an explanation. “Are you okay?” His steps faltered, no longer unable to keep up with the other. He was terrified that what he was seeing wasn’t real. Even more terrified if what he was seeing turned out to be real. He staggered back, shoes making a slorping sound as he trudged backward through the mud, and the suction it was giving was enough to cause Elias to fall backwards.

There he sat in the mud, eyes wide in terror at the idea that all was not as it seemed. Elias wanted to leave, to pretend that whatever was happening wasn’t happening, but he felt stuck. Clearly this person wasn’t in their right mind, chasing after a wild animal that was clearly in distress. “You’re scaring it and you’re scaring me!” He called out, hoping to appeal to their senses. “It’s a wild animal and you’re scaring it! Surely you don’t want to have a pikachu that lives in constant fear of you, do you?” He felt silly trying to appeal to their better nature, but it was the only thing he had left to reel them in with.

He blinked, hoping the tail and ears would go away when he opened them again. No such luck, they were still there. Why did his medicine choose now to not work? Maybe Elias had been affected by whatever got on Felix? Perhaps he touched it and now he was seeing things too? He looked skyward, hoping for some kind of answer, but found none. “Please let this be a bad dream,” he pleaded to no one in particular.

Felix blinked, the question clearly taking them off guard a little. “Doesn’t everyone have ears?” The tail was another matter entirely; it swished lazily from side to side, though having it pointed out filled the balam with a dread that seemed farther away than usual. Their eyes darted around, scanning the area for the warden who’d once cornered them in an alley, demanding the appendage for himself. Of course there was no sign of him here. Pikachu would have chased Parker away, anyway. Pokemon hated assholes like that. “Am I okay? I’m good! Everything’s aces.” They turned back to Elias, momentary panic forgotten in favor of flashing a thumbs up.

Except… maybe everything wasn’t aces, because Elias was sitting in the bog now. “Aw, buddy,” Felix furrowed their brow, looking concerned. “Your pants.” They were all muddy now. And probably wet. Definitely not comfortable. “Do you want mine? I can give them to you. If I finish shifting, the jaguar can walk home, and jaguars don’t need pants so he wouldn’t even care. You’d have to carry the Pikachu, though. He’d probably try to eat it. Actually, he, uh, he might try to eat you, so you might have to leave before I finish. With the pants. And the Pikachu. But I can give you my address! And you can drop it all off with my roommate. He’ll know what to do with it. The Pikachu, not the pants. But he’ll probably know what to do with the pants, too. Laundry.”

They were rambling, words coming at a mile a minute as they babbled on and on. Felix was a chatty drunk and it seemed like that chattiness came into play with hypnotoad juice, too. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, in any case… though they did falter a bit when Elias mentioned that they were scaring him. Him and the Pikachu, who they could still smell even if they could no longer see it. Immediately, Felix’s face fell. “I wasn’t — I didn’t mean to.” Their voice was small, uncertain. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to take my pants.”

—

Continuing to stare like a deer caught in headlights, Elias shook his head. “I don’t want your pants.” He said meekly. “I just want to understand.” He added, having half a mind to reach out and touch the other’s very real cat ears. “You’re a… a cat?” Elias’s brows knitted together in confusion, staring into his eyes now that he had a good look at them. They were a cat’s eyes. “I…” he trailed off, at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to think, it was all too much. But at the same time, this damn town was too much. If he wanted to understand, he had to get a grip. So shapeshifting cat people could be real. Maybe… would that explain the body of the victim? Her goat legs? Was she a shapeshifting goat people? He blinked. Puzzle pieces were beginning to slot into place.

“I know you’re, like, high or whatever.” He paused as he hoisted himself out of the mud, not thinking about how dirty and ridiculous he was. “But could you… could you explain this to me? Like, what you are? If you’re comfortable?” It was a rare burst of courage that Elias was experiencing, allowing himself to push away the very real panic that was bubbling its way up to the surface to instead try and understand something that made no sense to him.

Then there was Felix. Someone who defied normal explanation, a person with cat ears and a tail, cat eyes and a nose. No, Elias needed to understand this. Besides, he wasn’t about to toss away a potential Pokemon trainer friend in the making. “Maybe we could… go somewhere not a bog and we could… talk?” He then suggested, looking down to his clothes. Maybe another time. Maybe one with a change of clothes.

Understand? What was there to understand? Felix stared at Elias as Elias stared back at them, confusion evident in their expression. He’d seen the Pikachu, hadn’t he? And, as an avid Pokemon fan, he must understand why Felix wanted to befriend it. What more was there to explain? Why get hung up on Felix’s ears when there were so many more important things to consider here? The balam wrinkled their nose at the question, shaking their head. “Obviously, I’m not a cat. I’m Felix. Remember?” Their ears twitched on top of their head, their tail still swishing about lazily.

But — oh. Yeah. Maybe Elias didn’t know what a balam was. For a moment, Felix hesitated. They tried not to flash back to Parker in the alley, the hungry look in his eyes as he’d demanded to know what they were. Elias was entirely different. No entitled note to his tone, no desire coloring his features. He didn’t seem like he’d hurt Felix — something Felix was only just realizing he probably should have confirmed before shifting. But the ballybog’s toxin made it seem like small potatoes, relatively speaking. Felix was so hyperfocused on the Pikachu that it was hard to hold on to anything else for long. “I’m a balam,” they said. “I have a jaguar spirit living inside of me. My mom used to say he was a god, but I think he’s kind of an asshole. Not that gods can’t be assholes. I guess gods usually are assholes, actually. So maybe he is a god. I don’t know. I guess it’s, like, a cultural question. Whether he’s a god or not. The jaguar. Not me, I definitely don’t think I’m a god. But the jaguar might be, and he lives in my body. So maybe my body is a god?” More rambling, more getting caught up in the small details and forgetting the big questions. Felix was bad about that, especially when their inhibitions were down like this.

Elias didn’t seem to mind it, though. He was still hoping to talk. Felix cast a mournful look back into the bog, yearning for the Pikachu that had gotten away. But maybe Elias was right. Maybe they were too scary to make a decent home for a Pokemon. The thought ached a little, acidic guilt crawling up their throat and resting on their tongue to leave a sour taste in their mouth. Did Elias think they’d make a poor Pokemon trainer? Was he right to? “I…” Felix trailed off, looking down at their feet and shrinking into themself just a little. “Sure. We can go somewhere else.”

—

To say that Elias was shaken would be the understatement of the century. A balam? He had never heard of such a thing. But as the other explained it, his brows knit together in confusion and nodded his head slowly. “A jaguar god.” He summarized, staring down at the ground as he struggled to absorb this new information. “Riiiiight.” He frowned, quickly pulling out a prescription bottle from his back pocket, taking out a pill, and swallowing it dry. Hands shaking, he capped the bottle and shoved it back into his pocket. Bile rose in his throat as he felt the panic begin to swell up inside him. His vision began to tunnel as he realized that maybe he wasn’t crazy after all. No, no maybe… maybe this was all a bad trip and this person… Felix was definitely a furry. Yeah, that had to be it. He didn’t judge, that was just their hobby, right?

Elias had been to enough conventions in his life to know a furry when he saw it. Clearly, he had to have accidentally gotten whatever had affected Felix was affecting him to think that it had popped up when the guy must have put it on. This balam, it had to be a fursona, right? Nothing else would make logical sense, so this had to be the answer. Panic subsiding, he let out a laugh. Man, he really was losing it. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath as he tried to bring himself back to a normal heartrate, his vision slowly returning as the panic went down.

He nodded in appreciation as Felix finally agreed to leave the bog with him. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking one last breath to bring himself back to normal, the shakiness of the residual anxiety keeping him on his toes. “Sorry about your Pikachu, I’ll make it up to you.” Elias spoke with a half-hearted smile, tossing his head over his shoulder to look at Felix. He turned his attention back forward as they trudged through the bog together, Elias grimacing as the mud began to dry on his clothes. He felt disgusting, and these clothes were going to be hell to clean. He groaned internally, shaking his head. As they reached the trail again, Elias looked back to Felix, shooting them a concerned glance. “Are you going to be alright?”

Elias was doing… something. It was difficult to concentrate. A mixture of the ballybog’s toxin and the sensory overload of the enhanced senses that this partial shift had granted them left Felix a little ways away from the ‘conversation,’ distracted by every little thing. A butterfly flying by overhead that they were pretty sure was actually a very small dragon, a breeze that was probably coming from the spaceship they saw up in the sky. Elias popped his pill, and Felix was none the wiser.

They didn’t particularly want to leave the bog, not with everything going on, but Elias had asked them to go and they didn’t want to upset him. So, Felix followed the man, trying their hardest not to get distracted and wander off each time they passed something that looked far too interesting to walk right by. When Elias turned to look at them, they blinked. He hadn’t been talking this whole time, had he?

“I’ll find another one someday,” they said, sounding a little sad. “And I’ll feed it so much tuna.” But, hey, they’d made a friend, hadn’t they? The day was hardly a waste when they were walking out of the bog with someone else instead of venturing out on their own. They offered Elias a smile, and it was genuine. “Oh, totally. I’m still gonna be the very best… just, you know, maybe not today.”

—

While his hands were still shaking, the rest of Elias had calmed down, minus the heart rate. “I think I’ve learned a valuable lesson about going off the beaten path,” he muttered as he identified the mile marker. They weren’t too far out from the parking lot, but far enough that Elias knew the mud would be dry on his clothes by the time they made it back to their respective cars. “Still seeing things that aren’t there, buddy?” He asked, brow quirked and the corner of his mouth curling upwards in amusement. It was far funnier now that he didn’t have to worry about Felix chasing after a wild fucking animal.

Felix’s smile was infectious to the point that Elias smiled back despite his looming anxieties. “Yeah, and I’ll totally help you out. Just, maybe keep it virtual for now.” He tapped his phone, giving a gentle reminder that they should stick to Pokemon games over hunting wild animals. Then again, he couldn’t deny that his curiosity was peaked at the idea of looking for the strange creatures that called Wicked’s Rest home. He thought on that for a moment, then shook his head. No, he wasn’t going to entertain Felix while they were high.

“Tell you what,” Elias began as they walked along the trail towards the parking lot. “I’ll get you a Pikachu.” He was planning to go to a convention nearby, and there was always a vendor with Pokemon plushies. “It won’t, you know, move, but it’ll be a good first step.” He laughed to himself, realizing how silly the whole situation that had just occurred was. He was just glad that Felix nor himself got injured in the process. Elias peeled off his muddy sweater and held it in his arms, deciding it felt better to get as much of the wet clothing off of him that he could without being indecent.

Felix continued to find themself lost in distraction as they followed Elias, barely remembering to keep with their new friend rather than wandering away from him. They came close to forgetting that they were meant to be sticking with someone, taking a few steps off the path, when Elias’s voice cut through. They glanced back to him, looking almost guilty as they stepped back in line. “There are minnows swimming through the air,” they said seriously. “The jaguar wants to eat them.” He didn’t. The jaguar didn’t want to eat them. Felix wanted to eat them, but that seemed much stranger to say.

They wondered if maybe Elias didn’t think they were ready for the responsibility of owning a real Pikachu. That was why they hadn’t been allowed to get a cat as a kid, after all. Of course, given the fact that their family had disappeared into the woods at fourteen, that was probably for the best. Felix doubted that their father would have allowed them to bring a cat with them. But things were different now. They had Penelope, who was fat and happy. They could do the same for a Pikachu. Maybe they just needed to prove as much to Elias, and then he’d help them. Their face lit up when Elias promised to get them what, in Felix’s mind, seemed to be a ‘practice’ Pikachu. One that was easier to take care of to help prepare them to come back for the one they’d seen today. A more docile one, apparently, if it didn’t move. “Hey, thanks, man! You’re the best.” Felix grinned, looking excited. A new friend and the promise of their very own Pikachu? Not bad for a single Pokemon Go trip into the bog.

#threads #machamps hypnotoads and pikachu #recoveringdreamer #t;recoveringdreamer #|| Thank you for writing this with me Bex it was so fun

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rebelwrites · 3 years

Text

You Don’t Know Her Like I Did

Jax Teller x Reader

Text in bold is present day and the rest is memories

Warnings Death

That day would stay with Jax until the day he died. The day his world finally crumbled, the day his life changed forever. The boisterous, loud mouth biker everyone knew had gone and had been replaced with a quiet, lost biker. He remembered the day like it was only yesterday, the one call that broke the untouchable Jackson Teller.

Leaning against his bike, he felt his phone ring for a millionth time. Pulling it out of his pocket he saw all the missed calls from his mom. Hitting call he pulled the phone to his ear whilst he lit a cigarette.

“Mom you know I’m on a run” he sighed.

“I know I’m sorry son but this is important” she sighed, by the tone in his moms voice he knew something was wrong, something had happened.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s been an accident” Gemma said shakily. “It’s Y/N”

Instantly he felt sick, panic ran through his veins at the thought of his old lady hurt.

“I’m on my way”

Shoving the phone back in his pocket and tossing the half smoked cigarette in the mud he squeezed the throttle, racing home to his baby girl. He was at least two hours away from home yet he managed to get home within the hour, not caring about breaking the speed limits.

His feet pounded the floors of the hospital as he made his way to you. His heart shattered into a million pieces when he saw you laying in the hospital bed, cuts and bruises littering your soft skin. Tubes and wires keeping you breathing.

“What happened” he breathed sitting by your side taking your hand in his.

“A lorry ran a red light” Gemma said her voice barley a whisper. “Jax the doctors are saying it’s not good. We could, she might” she was unable to say the words but he knew what she was saying.

Brushing his fingers over your cheeks, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Come on princess” he sobbed “just open then beautiful eyes for me. Please”

The only sound in the room was the steady beep of the heart rate monitor that was until the door opened, making Jax glance up to see who was entering the room.

“Sorry Jackie Boy” Chibs sighed “This one wants their daddy”

“Daddy” Harry said squirming in Chib’s arms before he place him on his feet and he ran into Jax’s arms.

Picking his son up, holding him tight in his arms he placed a long kiss on the crown of his head.

“Is mommy going to be okay” He asked as he played with the bullet hanging round Jax’s neck.

“I don’t know buddy” Jax sighed not wanting to lie to the 4 year old. “Mommy isn’t well baby, but no matter what happens I need to remember that she loves you so much”

A couple of hours had passed and nothing had changed.

“Okay Mr Teller, we are going to bring Y/N out of the coma and the rest will be up to her, unfortunately there isn’t much we can do at this stage” The doctor said softly as he did whatever he needed to do to wake you.

Jax watched intently as your eyes fluttered open, one look in them he knew things wasn’t good, the twinkle you normally had, was gone. He knew it was only a matter of time.

“My prince charming” You said, voice horse and not much more than a whisper.

“Mommy” Harry grinned trying to clamber into your arms.

“Buddy be careful with mommy okay” Jax whispered placing your son on the bed, watching as he snuggled into your side.

“Where does it hurt momma” Harry said placing his tiny hand on top of yours “You say kisses make everything better”

Jax thought he had no more tears to shed until Harry spoke.

“I don’t think kisses are going to work this time baby” You whispered using all your strength to hold your son tight, taking in his scent.

You and Jax knew this was the end, your body was shutting down and there wasn’t a thing anyone could do to stop it.

“Jax” You whispered looking at your husband who was trying to squeeze himself onto the tiny hospital bed.

“I know baby I know” He sighed kissing your lips softly, like you was made of glass.

“Look after our baby” You whispered tears streaming down your face as you felt yourself getting weaker. “Look after yourself, raise our son to be an amazing man like you”

“Baby I don’t want to let go” He sobbed into your hair.

“I know but you have to” You sobbed “Just remember I will always love you, you will always be my outlaw prince” Leaning down you placed a kiss on your sons head “my baby boy, I will always love you even when I am not here”

“Momma I love you too” Harry said looking up at your with his big blue eyes full of innocence.

“I love you” You said, your voice getting weaker.

Jax knew what was coming, he knew it was time.

“I love you to baby girl” He sobbed placing one last kiss on your lips, resting his forehead on yours, he watched your eyes close, a smile on your face as the monitor beside you stopped beating constantly and was now just one long beep.

Leaning against the bar, nursing the bottle of Jack, Jax felt a hand on his back. It had been 6 months since the worst day of his life, he had hardly been home, hardly seen his son. Just spent his days at the club.

“Maybe talking to someone will help Jax” Chibs said lowly.

“Don’t really feel like talking” Jax grunted “She’s gone and I feel it might just be too much to bear if I spoke about that day”

After a moment of silence Jax spoke again.

“You’ll never understand, no one will, you don’t know what we’ve been through. That girl’s my best friend and there’s no way you or anyone else is gonna be able to help me. She’s the only one who can and she’s gone” Jax said as hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he held onto his chain that now contained your wedding and engagement ring alongside the bullet. “Chibs, I can’t forget that day, no matter what I do and I feel like I’m drowning in all these memories. Our whole life together is replaying in my head”

The day you walked into the lot of Teller-Morrow, Jax knew his life was gonna change.

“Isn’t that Y/N Y/L/N?” Opie asked making Jax look up. “Yeah man, Jheeze not seen her since we dropped out of school” Jax said wiping his hands on the rag before sauntering over your you.

Jax had the biggest crush on you during his school years yet for some reason never had the balls to ask you out.

“Well I didn’t think I’d see you back in charming darlin’” Jax smirked.

“Fuck me, if it isn’t the famous Jax Teller” you laughed as he gave you a hug.

“But seriously what you doing in charming” Jax nodded offering a cigarette which you accepted, he noticed straight away you wore no wedding band “thought you’d be married to some pompous prick”

“I guess you are half right on that” you laughed pushing smoke out your nose “I dated a pompous prick but all the money in the world wouldn’t make me to go back to that life style. The bastard had an issue with me riding and how I dress so I left his sorry ass”

“Jheeze, guess you can take the girl out of charming but can’t take charming out the girl” Jax smirked “What can we do for ya”

“New tyres for the beast” you laughed nodding your head to the bike parked at your side.

Jax couldn’t help but smile as he watched you catch up with Opie, you had changed a lot since school, and definitely more women now, you wasn’t the skinniest person with your well defined hourglass figure, he couldn’t help himself as his eyes trailed your body, the ripped jeans hugging your curves, the vest stop revealing the perfect amount of cleavage, the battered leather bomber jacket was like a second skin, your hair pulled into a simple pony tail, cigarette hanging out your mouth. Jax was infatuated.

As he walked closer he overheard your conversation with Opie as you sat on top of the bench.

“He just couldn’t handle the fact I’m not who I was in school” you laughed.

Back in the day you were a straight A student Daddy’s little girl" Jax smirked making you roll your eyes.

“Maybe I just want a bad boy” you shrugged smirking as you saw Jax’s breathing hitch.

There was only one person that knew you had always crushed on Jax and that was Opie.

“I’m gonna sort your bike out” he nodded leaving you and Jax alone.

“If you want a bad boy then baby you got it” Jax winked “I’ll take you to the wrong side of the tracks”

After about half an hour Opie tossed your keys to you.

“So what do I owe you” you said pulling a wad of cash out your leather jacket.

“Put you cash away women” Jax laughed putting his arm around your shoulders “I think letting me take you on a date will be enough payment”

“And I can’t cope, it’s another death inside the family. It’s like she stole my way to breathe” Jax said playing with his wedding band. He could tell by the look on Tig’s face what he was going to say so Jax held his hand out stopping the words escaping his lips “Don’t try to tell me it stops hurting, don’t try to tell me she ain’t worth it”

The sound of little feet running along the hard wood floor of the club made Jax look up from the bottle. Reaching down he pulled Harry onto his knee.

“Daddy please don’t cry” Harry said standing on Jax’s knee wiping the tears from his eyes. “Momma wouldn’t want you crying”

“I know baby” Jax sighed kissing Harry’s head

“Are you coming home tonight?” Harry asked as he sat on the bar resting his feet on Jax’s stomach.

“I don’t know buddy” Jax said ruffling his sons hair.

“Pwease daddy” Harry said looking up through his eyelashes at him, tears filling his eyes “I miss momma too but you are never home anymore”

“I’m proud to be in the bad news crowd. The one my mama warned me about. The closest thing to hell she’s ever raised” you winked at Jax as you threw you leg over your bike “you coming baby”

“I’d go anywhere with you” Jax smirked placing his hand on your upper thigh, eyes full of lust.

“Come on then big boy let go bend the law and break some laws” you giggled placing a cigarette between your lips.

“Mmmm there’s other things we could do” Jax smirked running his finger across the top of your boobs.

“Maybe I’d let you do me on your bike” you whispered in his ear biting your lip causing him to growl.

“Grandma said we can order pizza tonight daddy” Harry grinned.

“That’s great” Jax nodded no emotion in his voice.

“Come on Harry” Chibs said picking him up and placing him on the floor. “Go find uncle Hap and annoy him”

As soon as Harry had ran off to find Happy, Chibs places a firm hand on Jax’s shoulder. Squeezing him tight.

“Right you listen here Jackie boy” Chibs said, his tone firm “you have a gorgeous son that’s trying so fucking hard to get his daddy’s attention and you are shutting him out, just like everyone else”

“Come back to me when you lose a wife” Jax scoffed.

“That shit don’t wash with me and you know it” Chibs snapped. Someone needed to be firm with him. “You aren’t the only one that is hurting. Everyday I find Harry just sat on the swing crying. The little lad is trying to be strong for his daddy”

“I swear you two was baptized in dirty water, by the hands of the devil himself, between the banks of a Whiskey River, beside the Highway to Hell” Opie laughed as he passed you and Jax a beer. “You are like the perfect match for each other”

Tonight was a massive celebration for your and Jax engagement, you was currently sat on Jax’s knee, his arm round your waist whilst your arms was tangled in his hair.

“Girl you got an outlaw. Ready to lay down all my guns. A dirty old hound dog. Learning new tricks like cuddlin’ up. You’ve got a hellcat purrin’ like a kitten. You’ve got a sinner down on his knees. It had to be hell on an angel. Lovin’ the devil outta me” Jax’s whispered as he kissed on along your jaw.

“Jax baby, we can’t dip out just yet” you giggled feeling full affect of the weed and whiskey.

“I will be quick” he smirked “promise”

“Fine” you giggled “show me a good time Teller”

“With pleasure princess” he said placing his hands under your ass as he carried you to his dorm room.

“I don’t have to sit here and take this shit” Jax snapped storming out of the club.

He threw his leg over his bike and sped off to the cemetery. The one place his brother wouldn’t nag him, the one place he could think.

Soon enough he was now sat in front of your grave.

“I’ve got too many I care about in this fucking place” jax sighed as he lit a smoke. “Babygirl I’m struggling, I really am. I don’t know what to do”

“It still amazes me even to this day how you got my every flaw, my rebel heart, every tattoo, every scar and still loved the outlaw in me” Jax whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I know everyone is probably thinking I should be moving on with my life right now but right now I can’t, they didn’t know you like it did baby girl, they don’t really know how I’m struggling to live without you, I’ve hardly spent time with Harry and I know if you was here you be kicking my ass right now”

“Thought I’d find you here baby” Gemma said sitting on the grass next to Jax placing a soft kiss on his head.

“How did you do it Ma?” Jax asked tears clouding his vision “how did you carry on after JT died and continued to raise me?”

“I didn’t shut family out baby” she whispered taking his hand on hers “I leant on the club, I know you are hurting baby but you actions are hurting that gorgeous little boy of yours. He asked me today if you always be this sad”

“I don’t know what to do Ma” Jax sighed.

“Take some time off, let Chibs lead the club for a bit and spend some time with your son” she smiled softly “he lost his momma too and needs his daddy so much. I know things may seem dark right now and like there is no way up but the one thing that got me through my grief was you. You was the strength I needed to carry on every day”

“Daddy” a little voice shouted.

“Sorry Gem” Rat sighed panting slightly.

“It’s okay” she nodded.

Harry climbed into Jax’s lap, snuggling into his chest.

“I’m sorry son” he sighed burrying in face into his sons blonde hair “I know I’ve not been a good daddy recently, in fact I’m sorry for a lot of things”

“Daddy I don’t want you to be sad” Harry said placing his tiny hand against Jax’s cheek.

“I know buddy” Jax whispered wrapping his arms around him.

The two of them just sat there not saying anything, Gemma was right, the only way he would start to try and mean his heart was from the love from the 4 year old snuggled into his chest.

#Jax Teller #jax teller x reader #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy x reader

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switchbladedreamz · 3 years

Text

This feeling I wish to express

***I, the author, do not consent to stealing, plagiarism, or posting any of my work anywhere unless done so by myself***

Vampire!Yelena Belova x fem!reader

I spent a lot of time on this. A lot of different angles and changes and I finally decided on this. This is one of my favorite tropes, and I really love the Yelena character. Yes she is a vampire but not for plot, she just is cuz why not? Let me know if you'd like a part two!

I roll out of bed, my bare feet hitting the cold and dark hard wood floors. Its 9:30 pm on an August evening. What's that mean? Dusk has set, darkness soon to take its place. My feet carry me to the kitchen, I grab two different bottles of the now-safe-to-drink-and-won't-give-you-vampire- aids-TruBlood. The rare O positive and B negative. The bottles are half full. I grab a coffee mug and pour two parts O positive, emptying the bottle completely and one part B negative, leaving half of that one. Placing the mug in the microwave I nuke it for 30 seconds. Before the microwave can go off after the one second mark, there she is. Yelena Belov. In all of her ethereal vampire glory. The warm The Office mug in her hands. "Thank you my love" "Of course, how did you sleep?" "Like the dead" she stared at me with a goofy grin till I gave, laughing at her pun. "What shall we do tonight?" Yelena hops onto the counter and finished her drink. "I was thinking we could go visit my parents, see how the pigs are doing". I smile and agree, "sounds nice. Just a quick trip to Russia, totally normal." "Totes". Yelena zooms past me, probably grabbing clothes for me to wear. She comes back, skin tight leather caressing her form. "As much of a goddess you look right now, please tell me you grabbed me something warmer." "Yes, I remember what happened last time, and how I had to make it up to you all night" she smirks, bringing our "hut night" as she calls it. We did it in a hut, that's the story.

After a quick outfit change, she calls our ride service. One of the best thing about dating a spy/assassin is the connections, a quick trip to Russia in a private jet. "Love wait, you're not going to eat Jimmothy Jonas and Matthew Tuck are you?" I asked, feigning concern. Yelena looked at me like I had kicked a puppy, "what the fuck are you talking about?" Her accent coming out thick. "The pigs! Yelena! Think of the pigs!" "Oh fuck, put your seatbelt on. I'm not a Cullen, I don't eat animals. Who are those people anyways?". "Well Jimmothy is a fake name, Jonas from the boy band. And Matthew Tuck is the lead singer of Bullet For My Valentine". "You and your music my love, I swear you love it more than me sometimes.". She leaned her head on my shoulder, "kidding. I know you love me more". "Please, babe. Know your limits." I respond back. She moved to get up but I grabbed her hand and pulled her back down immediately. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Don't leave me in this seat alone". She sat down beside me once more. Her opposite hand caressed my cheek, "I'll never leave you, I pinky promise". We interlocked the small digits, we take them seriously in our relationship.

The plane arrived at the makeshift strip in what seemed like no time. Yelena has the ability to do that. Not literally, I just love her and spending time with her. She takes my breath away with her selflessness, her laughing at my corny jokes and puns.

We spend the next few hours drinking and dancing with each other. After we arrived to her mother's home, I squeal. I try to get out of the jeep we transferred to as fast as i can. I watch as Melina waves us down. I stop to give her a hug, "hi! Where are the children?" "The pigs are in the back, (Y/n), where's Yelena-". A gust of wind hit us and Yelena was beside me. She hugs her mom and kisses her cheek. They go inside and I stay out to play with the pigs.

Yelena's P.O.V.

I watch as the love of my life plays in the mud with the pigs. She's so carefree, having fun. "I feel the best of my self when I'm with her." Melina looks to me and smiles, "you love her to your core darling. May the gods bless you.". I turn to her and smile and hug her. "Thank you. Now, how do we do this?". Mum's face is graced with an evil smile.

Hours later after dinner, we put up the christmas tree. None of us practice Christianity but still we celebrate. The ladies have me speed around and put up the lights around the house. It reminds me of Ohio, the photos, the songs. But its not the lights, the tree, the ornaments. It is the love I feel for her. She is my home. A single tear rolls down my cheek, but not in sadness. "Love are you okay?" (Y/n) pulls my hands in to hers and looks at me, analyzing. "Yes, beauty. Never better. I'm going to grab something from upstairs.". I walk, I take my time.

My legs shake, this feeling of nervousness unfamiliar but I chase it. She's worth it. I open my bag and pull out the black velvet box the size of my palm. I place it in my jacket pocket, I squeeze the box. Fear settling in me, for what I do next will change our lives. Hopefully for the better. Theres a slam and sudden commotion down stairs, I rush down and come face to face with Natasha. She hugs me and watch as Red hugs (Y/n). "I'm so glad you could make it, what a surprise!" I laugh gently. Natasha leans to my ear and whispers "I'm so happy for you, she'll say yes, don't worry.". She gives me a thumbs up before turning to Melina. I let them catch up before catching everyone's attention. "I'm glad you're all here. I have something to share with you.". I hold my hand out for (Y/n) to join me.

(Y/n)'s P.O.V.

I look around confused but accepted Yelena's offer of her hand. "Why is everyone smiling weirdly at us?". I laugh nervously. I calm as my eyes connect with my lover's. Yelena kneels before me and time stops. She pulls out a small black box, my heart stops next. My breathe is gone after. "My beauty, my blossom, light of my life. You know my life inside and out, I've never had a home. But I am proud to say that you are it, no matter where we are as long as I am with you I'm never without laughter, never without light, you chase away my demons. As im saying this, when I planned this, it's like my heart stopped all over again. I was nervous and fearful, and as i kneel before you, I dont feel it." She opened the box and inside was an extravagant black diamond ring. "I got in Rome, on our first vacation together 5 years ago. I knew then and just like I know now. I love you. (Full name), will you marry me?" I'm crying, a sob escapes me before my answer. I nod. "Yes!". She places the ring on my finger, I kneel down and kiss her. She wraps her arms around me. After we stand up I laugh, and laugh and laugh. "Yelena. You ruined it. I can't believe it. You ruined all of it. I love you so much and this belongs to you". I pull out a similar box, rose gold. I kneel in front of her and open it. "My speech is no where near as grand as yours was. But, funnily enough, I got this on our second trip to Ibiza. The shop owner said it belonged to a duchess who visited the island in the 50s, she lost the ring on the beach and his father found it and kept it, he told me tons of men tried to by it off of his father and him for years but he kept it for the right person. I see you in the ring. I see our life together. Your smile, your strange love of brie. The point is, to end of my life- I will love you and with this ring i make this promise." I place the ring on her finger. We hug and stay in the special coinkidink of a moment that is only ours.

Yelena's ring for you

This is your ring for Yelena

#yelena x reader #yelena mcu #yelena belova #fluff #engagement

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crystalk17 · 3 years

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This is my super late submission for the MCYT gt gift exchange. I am really sorry for it being so late. I hope it is up to your standards!!!

This gift is for @leetlezeetle

Their promt: Giant dragon hybrid kidnaps a tiny/human to watch its young while they hunt.

As soon as I read this I thought "OMG PHILZA!!!"

So here is a fatherly, Giant, halfbreed dragon named Philza. Who kidnaps a young knight in training named Tommy. Maybe he can handle the young ones? Or maybe he will become the next meal. Who knows?

Tommy remembers the first day he was brought here. The teen was working on his stances and swings. Not even hours ago his face was shoved into the dirt by Dream. "You will never be a true knight. You can't even strike down Niki and she's a woman!" Tommy felt a heavy boot across his back shoving his body and pride even further into the mud. "You will quit or be killed."

Picking his body up the young-looking blond whipped the mud all over his front and face. If he was rebellious he would flick it at the superior, but now was not the time. After cleaning the brown thickness from his eyes he saw Dream holding his silver sword out to him with one hand. Tommy didn't say another word, even though so many were boiling under the skin to be screamed out. With a swipe of his hand, he grabbed the sword storming off.

Now he was in the field making sure he was perfect. Every swing of the sword, every shift of his body, had to be just right or he would restart with a deep growl. He would not leave until he got this perfect.

At least that was the plan.

Instead, he swung the sword jutting it straight out. The invisible enemy crippled back from the fatal stab. He was holding the wound begging for mercy.

"No foul creature. This is your last day on earth." Sliding his foot back he prepared for the final blow. Ramming the sword forward with such speed he had to close his eyes. He knew this was not the correct way to stab someone, but he was just practicing and he would try again. He expected the sword to slide through air. He would open his eyes and he would be holding his sword with one hand straight out and a perfect stance with the ghost enemy on the ground. But...but...he struck something.

Opening his eyes just a peek, his blood ran cold. Standing inches away from him was a black dragon with dark green scales sprinkled in. He thrust his sword forward hitting only the beast's clawed hand. The beast was humongous. Tommy had to look straight up into the air to even see the Creature's surprisingly blue eyes. What startled him, even more, was the fact that if the dragon wasn't looking its head over Tommy then he wouldn't even be able to see his eyes very well.

He could feel his body freeze. It didn't want to move. He felt the sword drop from his hands when the creature got even closer sniffing at his head. His hair flew up a bit then landed on top of the sweat already traveling down his face. The ground seemed to be shaking...oh wait that was his feet shaking back and forth. His pupils went wide when the blackish dragon nudged him with its claws. Maybe to see if he was alive?

Faster than he thought the creature could move, its clawed hand struck out grasping the young knight. It easily encompasses the human hiding it from the world. Tommy's whole body was encased by leather and claws that were larger than his own body. Was he seriously getting kidnapped like a princess? For what seemed like five minutes, most likely longer, Tommy banged against his rock-hard prison. He looked down seeing the monster made the mistake of allowing him to keep his sword. As if it was an instinct he grasped it in two hands and shifted his body forward. One. Two. Three hits. Even a stab and nothing happened. He wouldn't be surprised if he looked at the to and it was bent. He was going to be here for a while. -------------------------------------------------------

That very day was three months ago. On this very day, Tommy was sitting on the dusty ground of a cave, light reflecting off the walls from the fire he built. There was always plenty of food and the cave even had a small stream running through it. He was always surprised no other creatures tried to claim this area as theirs, but at the same time, he understood why.

Behind him, the sound of running feet hitting rock made his head turn. At this point, he was used to this. Looking outside it seemed about that time when the young ones started to stir.

"You can't catch me!!" Running up behind Tommy a child with short brown hair and a rugged jacket came into view. The child decided to run right behind Tommy's back even though his body was way too big to be covered up by the teen. The child looked like he could be a very young adult in stature, but in fact, this was a young halfling.

Two other forms came running out, but instead of humans like this child one was an actual dragon the size of a horse and the other human-looking but with dragon features. These three were young dragon halflings. Tommy found out through experience and reading in books halfling children had no control over their body. The younger they were the more dangerous they were.

When halfling babies are born they are very small compared to their parents. They are the size of a human, some can even be the size of a human toddler. As they got older their bodies morphed into the proper size. This is the exact reason why most halflings do not survive. They have dangers around every corner because of their vulnerable size and accidents do happen between the older halflings and their young. Throughout the years, the children would get used to their shifting abilities, so it wasn't uncommon for siblings, like these three, to look completely different.

The human-looking child keep moving back and forth so he was covered up by his 'shield'. The human with dragon features was trying to get around the sitting human to get to his sibling. With every movement, Tommy flinched a bit because the dragon halfling had claws that were digging into him every time he touched Tommy's skin while trying to get around him. He knew it was an accident, probably didn't even think about it, but he had to learn.

"Michael" he winced once more as his claws touched his shoulder. "Michael." he raised his voice a bit more to get the child's attention. The volume seemed to get his attention cause he froze in his actions. "Michael. What did we talk about playing."

"To be careful." Tommy watched as the pink flaps he had for ears drooped down showing he was upset.

"Yes, kid. You unlike your brothers have claws, wings, and these cool horns." Tommy grabbed one horn and shook the child's whole head making him smile. "I can't have your dad coming back and I'm filled with holes from your claws. He would kill us both. Just make sure next time-"

As he was talking the third child jumped right on top of Tommy. The Third was a black dragon like his father but had specks of dirty yellow scales on him. Somehow the third child learned to turn into a full dragon, but couldn't control turning back very often. He was the size of a horse and as heavy as one. "Tubbo! Tubbo get off!" Tommy was using all his strength to push the little dragon off, but all it accomplished was a face full of dragon licks.

This was how it was every single day. Tommy was left in the cave with three halfling children named Wilbur, Michael, and Tubbo. Every day it was him watching as the three played tag or roughhoused with each other while their father was gone. Who was the father? That was the black dragon who kidnapped him three months ago. Every day the giant black dragon would go out hunting, leaning poor Tommy to watch and protect his young. At first, he hated it and wanted to escape himself, but after a few days of being stuck here, the seventeen-year-old fell in love with Phil's children. Anymore he couldn't picture it any differently.

"Tubbo this is the last time I'm asking. Get off." his face was drenched in dragon slobber. The most he could do was push against the black dragon's body but he wouldn't budge. All it accomplished was the young one started to nuzzle and push up against his face to show affection. Michael ran behind Tommy's head and put all his weight on the human's arms. He was pinned to the ground and he was not going anywhere. His legs would flail up and down, but that was about it. He couldn't even do this much in fear of kicking one of the halflings.

"Get off!" Through his shouting and torturous affection, Tommy heard wood breach at the opening of the cave. The three children must have heard it too, because all three of their heads whirled to the opening as well. Tubbo started to growl and Michael's eyes grew wide. Tommy could feel the young dragon slowly stepping off his body, but he had to be ready for action now. Gently pushing him all the way, Tommy grabbed his sword from the ground. This was why he was brought here. His job was to protect and help with the young ones when their father was gone. All this training had to come into play. His heart started to beat faster as he watched the three halflings hide behind his body as if they weren't bigger than him, as if he could protect them from whatever dared to come into a dragon's den. His grip tightened on the hilt as his eyes glared at the opening. Tommy put one hand out to assure the young ones behind him.

Tubbo started to sniff the air, then his tail wagged like a dog's. He was excited about something. He ran forward with a determined speed. Tommy tried to reach out and grab his neck, but he was just dragged forward when the pup ran at full speed. Tommy dug his feet into the ground, but it didn't seem to help.

Tubbo came to an abrupt stop, flipping Tommy's body onto the ground. He frowned in irritation. He couldn't even stop a running five-year-old, how was he supposed to protect these guys?

Walking into the entrance of their hidden cave was the same black dragon who grabbed him all those months ago. With the creatures massive body in full view Tubbo ran full speed towards his father wagging his tail. Tommy had to just release or be dragged with him. He watched as the dragon very carefully dropped a dead cow, probably stolen from the villagers. The sheer black beast very carefully nuzzled Tubbo with the end of his snout getting a small squick in response.

Michael and Wilbur ran over, but straight to their dinner. Tommy watched in disgust as the two would burn the carcass with their fire than eat the pieces they tore off like hamburgers.

"Not hungry?" a deep rumbling voice asked with a surprising gentleness to it.

Tommy's scrunched up in disgust. "I'll stick to my berries and properly hunted meat. He looked up to see where a black dragon was standing was now an adult half breed human. The half dragon was smaller then the dragon form, by 20 feet to be exact. He still had black dragon wings, his tail, razor teeth, even his claws on his hands, but everything else was the perfect imitation of a human.

Tommy grabbed his sword to head out and find his own food. He would allow the family their time and he could practice with his sword. He marched to the opening when the tail curled around him blocking his path. In irritation, he looked up at the smug blond-haired male who looked 30 with horns. He had his wings tucked away, but Tommy knew they were there. He attempted to climb over the tree truck-sized obstacle until it started to move dragging him closer to the half-breed.

"What! I'm just getting food unless you want your protector to starve." The tail didn't stop herding him until he was right back to the other three dragonlings. Tommy knew he didn't need his sword so he let it drop while he yelled up at the beast. "This isn't funny Phil."

"You know I appreciate you right?"

Since he was close enough now, Phil gently picked the young knight up with two fingers. He could feel Tommy squirming, but both knew nothing would happen.

"If I didn't think you could handle yourself, I wouldn't have chosen you to watch my young."

Tommy looked back in those deep blue eyes before he spoke. "Yeah well... I know."

Phil put the human back down beside the other three. He curled his tail closely around the four. His four kids.

#mcyt #leetlezeetle #gt #dragon #knight #Tommy #philza #gift

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

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Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires (Masky X F!Reader)

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires

[Masky/Tim Wright X F!Reader]

[Warnings: murder, language, angst, mentions of death and actual death. Mostly the angst.]

[AN: Another brilliant request from Eris! This was also a Ko-Fi commission! ALSO ALSO this thing is 13K words! This is my longest fic yet! buckle in.]

When are there not stars in your eyes? It’s hard to dim them even when the sun comes up, which is such an odd thing to even admit due to the mud life has made you trudge through.

You are the product of a proxy father and a human mother. To be the Slender Man’s child is your birthright, and so far, you’ve been living up to that birthright with flying colors. As a young one, she had woven you stories of the culture and society your father was a part of and everything he had been up to.

Visions of murder, deals gone sour, and morally grey acts have been threaded into your soul. You grew up thinking that was normal, and by twelve, you had knowledge on things that no child should have ever opened their ears to.

“And then what happened?” You ask your mother, urging her to continue the story.

She giggles like a butterfly ready to take flight and holds your tiny six year old body closer to her. She smells of honey and vanilla. “That group had messed with the wrong people,” she continues, her voice falling deceptively low. “The tall man in the woods-”

“You mean the faerie?” You ask as your eyes sparkle. “The Slender Man?”

Your mother nods, her index finger reaching up to tap your nose. “Yes, exactly that,” she hums. “He sent another group of proxies to handle the mess.”

“Ooooooo they’re in troubleeeeee,” you giggle, still hooked around your mother.

She laughs. “He initiated what is called a ‘proxy hunt’. It’s something only the bad proxies are subject to,” she explains. “It’s important you don’t make mistakes like that, Reader. Do you understand?” She questions with a warm hum as she secures you in her arms, bringing your tired form to your bedroom.

“Got it,” you say in the most serious tone a six year old can muster. “No making the faerie mad.”

“That’s my girl.” Her lips pull up in a grin that rivals the Cheshire cat.

Your father is a proxy. He is tall, unstable, but loves you like the moon loves the tide and the sun loves the earth. To be a proxy is to be closed off and untouchable, but the sound of you running to greet him on the blue moon he visits you and your mother has always been enough to humanize him, if even for a moment. He loves you, his special little girl, with all the grains of sand there are on the earth.

He comes around sparsely, and as you grow older, rarely. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he’s busy and the Slender Man enjoys making his favorites suffer. Every time he sees you, he remarks how much bigger you’ve gotten. He’s more than upset that he can’t be there to watch you grow into a fine young lady.

“You’re late,” you say, eyes narrowed as you look up at the tall, bulky man who stands before you. You take your hand off the doorknob and stand tall as you cross your arms.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” the man apologizes, crouching down to your eye level. “I brought you a present.”

You eye your father carefully, arms relaxing for a moment before noticing the wrapped gift in his hands. “Is…”

“It’s something you’ll like,” he answers, holding the gift out to you. “I promise.”

You narrow your eyes again but take the wrapped present from his hands, shaking it slightly. You hear something rattling around. “Can I open it?” You ask as you attempt to hide your smile.

Your father chuckles. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it, but yes. Go ahead, open it.”

You relent in the angry front and plop down on the floor, opening the present without any grace as a ‘proper lady’ as your mother would put it. You peel back the brightly colored wrapping paper and then tear into the box. “Oh my gods,” you whisper to yourself in surprise as the stars once again light up in your eyes. It’s an entire art set of fine materials. “Where did you get these?”

Your father shrugs. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” he says in a teasing tone.

You push at him before placing the box of expensive art supplies to the side. You can’t help but lunge into your father’s waiting arms.

“I heard you were getting seriously into art from your mother. Doing art for friends? I’m so proud of you!” He laughs and hugs you, his lips pressing to the crown of your head. “Happy twelvth, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you so, so much.”

You can’t help but cry and hug your father tighter.

For a person who was supposed to be brutal, uncaring, uncouth and simply inhuman, your father had the whole dad thing down when he was around. He never raised his voice to you, was kind and thoughtful in his responses, and you adored how he treated your mother with nothing but love and understanding.

You know that if he wasn’t shackled to a life he had no choice of entering, he would have been one hell of a father.

Your mother, a mentally fragile woman who loves a damn near unattainable man, brings you the news one overcast morning. Her eyes are red and puffy and it looks like she hasn’t been able to stop crying for hours. Her posture is broken but her heart even more so. It’s probably irreparable.

You were sitting at your desk, doing your homework. Tomorrow was Monday, starting the final week of school. It was one of the final essays before you were out for summer break, and then you’d be gearing up for your first year of high school once autumn came.

Earbuds in, you didn’t even hear your mother slink into the doorway of your room. When you finally get the inkling that someone is watching you, you take out one of your earbuds and turn your head. “Mom?” You sound genuinely confused, especially after seeing her rough appearance. “What’s wrong?” You slowly push back in your chair, ready to stand and meet her in the doorway.

“Your-your,” her breath hitches as she leans helplessly in the doorway. “It’s your father,” she manages to rasp out as she begins to slink downwards, her knees buckling.

Your eyes go wide, tears welling in them and blurring your vision as you jump out of your seat and collapse on the floor with your mother. You wrap your arms around her, burying your face into her shoulder as she cradles you in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” she wails like a mantra, clutching onto you like she’s afraid to lose you too.

You don’t know how to feel in that direct moment. You loved your father, more a shadow than a real man, but his loss cuts deep and hard. He wanted to show you things “when you’re older” and tell you of the world you were born in. You wanted so badly to learn it all by his hand and his knowledge.

When your mother has finally come to a grounding point where she is no longer choking over her words, she leads you to her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if she’s trying not to remember anything about the man she loved and lost. Her steps are quiet, almost like she’s floating.

You follow her just as quietly. It’s as if you don’t want to disturb the silence that has settled over the two of you. It’s heavy and suffocating, but it’s a blanket shielding you from the reality that someone is gone and never coming back.

Your mother opens her bedroom door and shifts around in her drawers.

Unsure of where you should be and if you’re allowed into the sanctuary that is her room and her space, you wait in the doorway, much like she did when she brought you the bad news. You’re still wiping away tears with the bottoms of your hands and by extension, rubbing your skin raw. Your vision is still bleary, but when your mother finally resurfaces, you don’t even need to be told what it is she’s holding.

In her hands is a mask. It’s dark brown and has a simple face almost reminiscent of a dragon. It’s simple, but elegant. It’s simple, but horrifying. You feel drawn to it.

Your mother weakly smiles and sits down on her bed, patting the open spot for you to sit down.

You do so without question and take your spot next to her, almost on instinct leaning yourself onto her side. You smile softly as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you close.

“It was your father’s,” she says quietly, fingertips gently tracing the mask's face. She then gingerly shifts it onto your lap. “Now it is yours.”

You feel more tears cascade from your eyes as you gaze longingly down at the mask on your lap. “Are you sure?” You shakily question, wondering why she’d want to pass such a beautiful memento down to you so soon.

“It’s your birthright,” she replies, her lips pressing to the side of your head that gives you a love only a devoted mother could.

You didn’t understand what she meant at that moment.

You never saw your first year of high school.

When the summer came, you had bounced back like any child could. Children are plastic. They can bounce back from almost anything, just give them enough time, space, and care. You were no exception.

In truth, after losing your father, you hadn’t found any desire to go to college. Your heart was telling you that a life that was so cookie cutter and parallel to everyone else’s was never in the cards for you. Your blood sung for something different.

Proxies always return to him.

Your mother knew it too. She saw it in your longing gaze as she drove the two of you back home from grocery runs, how your eyes would follow the breeze in the backyard to the woods, how your hands naturally found their way to knives, and how your thoughts transcended what should be humanly possible.

But you’re not human. You never have been. Never will be.

Your mother knew that best. It was only natural that she found contact with the tall man of the woods halfway through the summer of losing your father.

“She’s different, my little girl,” she explained as she gazed up at the imposing, almost immaculate figure. “I don’t think I could ever give her what is expected or needed.” She hates to admit that she’s not good enough for you, but that is the curse of being a born, not turned proxy. Proxies always return to their master, regardless of age, creed, or background.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘What would you have me do?’ He’s only asking as a formality. He knows that you belong to him. Your father had been attempting to gear you up to join. The Slender Man is only finishing what one of his most beloved proxies started.

Your mother shifts uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest as a defensive maneuver. She absentmindedly tucks some strands of her hair behind her ear. “I think she needs to be with you,” she mumbles, still not wanting to admit she’s not good enough because she’s human. “I think she needs to be fully immersed in… Whatever it is my husband says you do.”

The Slender Man chuckles deeply. He knows your mother knows what his beloved proxy does, but he lets her feign her ignorance. ‘That’s rich coming from a woman who loves her child more than the land loves the sea,’ he taunts coldly. In truth, it is nothing against her as an individual, but it is everything against her as a human being.

Your mother scoffs and holds her ground. “Will you take her in or not?”

He raises his hand to convey a truce. ‘My apologies.’ He doesn’t mean it. ‘I will. She is my child, afterall-’

“She is NOT your child,” your mother snarls, fully aware she is in the presence of a very temperamental being who could smite her just for thinking wrong.

The Slender Man, in all his mercy, once again holds his hand up as a sign of truce. ‘I understand the loss is still heavy on your heart,’ he begins, voice heavy and almost exhausted to be dealing with human emotional flare ups. ‘I will take her as soon as you are ready to let her go.’

Your mother’s shoulders drop slightly as she comes to the realization that yes, that was a decision she was making. She feels tears well in her eyes, but refuses to blink them away. “Thank you.” She nods to the tall man, then turns on her heels and heads back home, where you lay asleep waiting for her.

The Slender Man watches her leave with curiosity in his gaze. He already knows where he’s going to be placing you. You are not the youngest to fall under his influence, but you are the first in a while. He tends to pluck young adults, not children. And if he did choose children, consider it target practice.

Nothing more.

When your mother tells you that you are leaving her side, you are once again thrown into a plethora of emotions, a maelstrom .A part of you can’t believe she’d just willingly give up on you like that, but another says this is the direction you’re meant to go.

“This isn’t a decision I make lightly, Reader!” She exclaims in budding frustration, her fingers raking through her hair like a tick. “Really, I have no say in the matter!”

“Yes you do!” You cry back. “You’re my mother! How could you just abandon me?” You fight back. You ball your hands in fists. You’re not backing down from her.

Your mother sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I am not prepared for this,” she mumbles. “I do not have the right knowledge to allow you to grow into the person you could be,” she finishes, plopping back onto the wall in the kitchen. She’s exhausted on every facet. Her heart hurts with just how much she loves you.

“What could you not be prepared for?” You seethe. “What on this hunk of rock are you not prepared for?”

Your mother honestly doesn’t know how to answer that. Your father had always been oddly tight lipped about certain aspects of the proxy lifestyle, perhaps out of safety reasons for the two of you. She doesn’t know what you’re going to be thrown into. “I know that it’s rough-”

“Just like that?” You retort, a fire in your eyes that reminds her much too much of her departed husband. “You don’t want me? Is that it?” You finally relent, a crack interrupting your once strong tone.

Your mother falters and comes to your side, holding you in her arms once more. “Of course not,” she murmurs. “Of course not.”

“Then why?” You prod softly with a small sting.

“You are a proxy by blood, that’s all,” she offers as advice, swaying you.

You feel your heart begin to slow from its racing pace. You don’t want to accept that as an answer, but you do just to bring her peace.

You leave your mother’s side near the end of July. Just twelve years old and on the precipice of something no ordinary human could ever even begin to understand.

Your final dinner with her was uncomfortable, but bittersweet at the same time. You and your mother had shared stories, laughs, tears, everything and anything. You know that after this, you probably won’t ever be able to see her again.

Your mother brings you to the woods herself. She holds your hand, a knot in her stomach over seeing you holding your father’s mask followed by a backpack strapped to your still small body as you are about to venture into the unknown. She never thought she’d be losing you so soon.

The Slender Man is never tardy. He pops into your view once you are a safe distance into the forest with splendor - it’s probably to impress you to some degree. He really hasn’t worked with a child in a very long time.

You feel your head go dizzy with static. Your breath hitches and your heart stops. It’s almost intoxicating that you are in the presence of the man who will now have control of your entire life. You look up at him and the stars return to your eyes. Still, as a child-like crutch, you grip onto your mother’s side and hide yourself with her form, terrified of the imposing man that stands tall in front of you.

“It’s okay,” your mother says softly, gently urging you to the man you will now consider your god. “He’s here to help you.”

The Slender Man hums deeply. His voice invades your head like a virus, infecting every thought and feeling until it overtakes you and makes itself home. Curiously, he bends down. He is lit up by the light of the full moon.

You peek out from your mother’s form and gradually find the stones to leave her side - still hesitantly. You take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be brave, and approach the now bent down figure who sits at eye-level with you. “It’s… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” you say quietly, a childlike innocence making the Slender Man mentally smile. You look at him with fear and curiosity in your eyes.

He chuckles deeply - the sound sends chills down your spine - before holding out a flower to you. It’s small, much like you, and pretty. The petals are free of any damage the bugs might have caused, and the color is absolutely spellbinding. It’s your father’s favorite color, red, though it’s not a rose. ‘For you, my dear.’

You allow a sheepish smile to spread onto your lips before you take the flower from his waiting hand, and sniff it. It’s so sweet and familiar. You recognize the scent as something your father carried on his person. The thought makes you tear up.

His large, clawed hand comes up to your face before his thumb gently wipes the tears away. ‘It’s time to go. Say goodbye, dear.’ He nods for you to bid a farewell to your mother, who is trying her hardest to not break in front of you.

You don’t hesitate in turning around and running into her open arms, face crashing into her chest as you take in her familiar scent for a final time.

“I love you,” she whispers, peppering your face and crown with kisses. “Never ever forget that.” She holds you tighter, and you hold back just as tight.

When it’s time to go, you leave her warmth to a cold that burns bright.

It wraps around your hand, and takes you to a diner.

“Where are we?” You ask as you take a gander at your surroundings. You see that you’re still largely obscured in darkness, but the artificial lights of a lit up IHOP grant you that soft, almost annoying light that disturbs the night.

He lets go of your hand. ‘Head inside and you will meet your group.’

You look up at the Slender Man curiosity. “My group?” You quizzically ask, still looking up at the tall man.

He nods and then puts his hand on your back, gently nudging you to cross the parking lot, almost as if he’s nonverbally telling you that they are waiting for you. “Like a family. A new family.”

You feel a little nervous, but nod your head and decide to be strong - or whatever you think your father might have done in a similar situation. “Thank you for your time,” you say, remembering your mother and father both stressing how important it was to show reverence to those in higher positions than you.

The Slender Man’s wolfish smile floods your mind’s eye, gently, and warmly before he nods once more for you to go. Like a proud father, he watches you take tentative first steps into an entirely new future. Only when you open the doors of the establishment does he mentally tell his proxies that wait inside of the newest member’s arrival, and then zip out of existence as you know it.

Tim waits at the diner with a small frown on his face. He’s not entirely pleased with the news his boss has given him and it shows. He's drinking far too often from his coffee cup for his group’s liking.

“Ease up,” Brian huffs as he pushes Tim’s coffee cup back to the table and away from his lips. “You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls.”

Tim rolls his eyes and picks up his coffee cup much to his right hand’s chagrin. “I’m handling it how I want to,” he mumbles into the lip of the coffee cup.

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world-”

“It’s a child,” Tim cuts him off. “The youngest person we had prior to us was Toby, and he’s-”

“I’m w-what?” Toby hums as he comes back to the table, sliding comfortably back into his seat.

“He’s bitching about the kid we’re getting,” Brian answers as he absentmindedly stirs his drink with his straw.

“Is he n-now?” Toby chuckles. “I’m s-surprised you’re n-not more w-w-w-worried, to b-be completely h-h-honest,” he breathes out in a teasing tone, lightly elbowing Brian who smiles for a moment in response.

“I fought my demons on this issue and won,” Brian smirks. “Masky here clearly hasn’t.”

Tim rolls his chocolate colored eyes once more and leans back into his seat, looking at the fourth and empty chair that will eventually be filled by you. “I honestly don’t think you two are worried enough,” he grumbles under his breath before he crosses his arms over his chest.

Snickers ring out from his two companions. Clearly, they find amusement in his worry. Tim almost hates to admit how worried he is.

You’re not just a runt, you’re a child. A literal child. Something about having you in this life feels morally and ethically wrong, and he knows that. A part of him is scared you’ll just… Fold.

Brian has had his reservations about the situation, but overall, he has made peace with it - for now. He’s not too thrilled over the Slender Man putting a child in his group, but at the same time, he’s nowhere near as frazzled as Tim is.

Toby finds the entire situation amusing. He was the youngest of the group. In some ways, Toby has never quite grown up. That’s not a bad thing though, it just means it’s easier for him to relate to you. And honestly, you aren’t his entire responsibility, so he’s able to be the fun guardian.

That’s what the Slender Man called the three of them, your actual guardians. No questions asked, you were now theirs as much as you are his.

You push through the doors and look around the IHOP, looking for anyone who might have any inkling of what you should be doing. Your eyes dart around and the palace is relatively empty. There’s a few groups interspersed and lost in their own worlds, and you have no idea which one you should be heading towards.

Your thoughts are answered when you hear steps approaching followed by the heavy smell of cigarettes that hang in the air thickly. You look up to see a man in a black t-shirt, with dark and tired eyes. He gives you a faint smile as you look up at him.

“Are you hungry?” He asks suddenly, almost throwing you entirely off guard.

You blink a few times. “Uh, I wouldn’t mind anything else,” you answer a tad awkwardly. You don’t why, but you get the overwhelming feeling to not disrespect him. It’s almost stronger than the feeling to respect your mother and father.

“Come with me then,” he says.

You watch as he begins to walk towards a table and squeak in response before picking up the pace and following him.

Tim weaves you through the sea of tables and sets your sights on a table that has two men sitting across from each other, talking. You look at the two with slight curiosity before the man leading you puts his hands on the back of a brown haired boy’s chair.

There’s a minute pause between the two before the boy silently gets up and joins the blond haired man’s side.

You take a seat next to the man who led you in, a little quiet due to being shy and in the presence of imposing figures (though nowhere near as imposing as the Slender Man) and focus on the table. Remembering to be polite, you keep your eyes trained on the table and open your mouth to greet them. “Hello.”

The blond haired man’s lips curl upwards into a smile. “So she does speak,” he says more as a joke to the other two men rather than directly to you.

The man who led you in kicks his right hand’s shin under the table. “Be nice,” he hisses quietly. “Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes darting to look at you. “Why don’t we uh, go around the table and say our name and a fun thing about ourselves?” He suggests tiredly.

“What are we, five?” The blond haired man chuckles. He winces when Tim kicks his shin again. “Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath before finally turning to you. “Hi, my name is Hoodie. I really like photography,” he states, an amused twinkle coming to his hazel eyes.

You perk up slightly.

“M-Me next?” Toby asks before deciding to go up himself. “Hi, I-I’m Toby. I c-can’t feel pain.”

You raise your eyebrows and look over at the pale, vaguely grey skinned boy. “You can’t feel pain?” You inquire, voice raising slightly to convey your budding curiosity.

“Mhm,” he hums, a smile slowly coming onto his lips. “You c-c-can slap m-me, I won’t f-f-feel it.”

You glance at the other two men who both nod out of unison, sly grins curling the corners of their mouth upwards. Almost shyly, you lean over the table and open your hand. You look at Toby for confirmation and close your eyes, hitting him across the face as hard as a twelve year old can muster. When you open your eyes after your hand made impact, you see that he’s unmoved.

There’s nothing in Toby’s eyes that tells you he’s masking the pain either. He’s genuinely unbothered. “S-See what I m-mean, Princess?” He chuckles as you sit back in your seat, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, Toby is special,” the man who brought you in chuckles tiredly before waving Toby off. “Anyways, my name is Masky and I’m your group leader,” he tells you in passing.

Brian rolls his eyes and lightly kicks Tim’s shin from under the table. “That’s not a fun fact.”

“D-Ditto,” Toby agrees as he crosses his arms over his chest. “T-Tell her a r-r-real fun fact.”

Tim pauses for a moment before he finally sees the stars in your eyes. He finds it hard to not indulge you. “Hoodie and I used to go to the same college together,” he finally states, earning an approving smile from both Brian and Toby.

You want to press the topic when the waitress finally makes her grand appearance.

“Hi, hon! Apologies for not getting here any sooner. Did you want something?” She asks with a warm smile on her dark lips. “I can get you some juice to start off with if you don’t know what you’d like yet?” She continues in a semi-speculative tone.

You think it over for a second before looking up at her. “I would like some apple juice and a small thing of chocolate chip pancakes if that’s okay with you?” You’re both asking her and the men at your table.

“Sure thing,” she hums. “Anything for you boys?”

“We’re fine, just stuff for the little lady,” Tim replies. “Though uh, I would like another pot of coffee,” he trails off.

The waitress takes the empty pot of coffee and then walks back to the kitchen to get what you asked for.

“Alright, what about you?” Brian asks as he rests his elbows on the table, hands under his chin as he turns his attention back to you. “Name and fun fact.”

“I’m Reader,” you begin, not noticing how their expressions shift slightly. “And a fun fact about me?” You take a moment to consider what you’re going to tell them before divulging into one of your hobbies, drawing. You mention the alcohol markers your father gave to you on your last birthday, your twelvth.

The three men listen to you attentively all the while holding a conversation in their heads.

‘Holy shit, you never mentioned that this was the Wraith’s kid-’ Toby’s voice hurriedly exclaims through the mental connection he shares with his teammates.

‘She can’t be right,’ Brian tacks on. ‘This can’t be his kid, the man didn’t have any kids,’ Brian jumbles out. On the inside, he is screaming, but outwardly, he shows he’s happy to be listening to you.

Tim mentally scoffs. ‘Now you know why I’m so horrified,’ he grumbles in a very lightly annoyed tone. He knew the Wraith, your father. He was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed by human ones.

When Tim first received the news from the Slender Man that he was taking in the Wraith’s child, he almost passed out. The responsibility of taking care of not only a child, but a legend’s child? He saw the light and it was NOT as beautiful as people make it out to be. You are his responsibility first and foremost, whether he wants this or not. He watches you with furrowed brows, only to find that during the

The night begins to dwindle on, and it’s clear that you’re getting sleepier. Besides, the table knows that you’ve probably never stayed up until midnight and it’s nearing that odd hour. The IHOP is almost completely empty, but every now and then stragglers come in to have a cup of coffee and hashbrowns. It’s a slow night.

“You’re looking tired,” Brian says softly as he watches your eyes lid.

You fling them open and shake your head. “I’m not tired at all,” you pout. You cross your arms over your chest, but the position proves to be too comfortable and you’re already nodding off again.

“Yeah, we’re calling it a night,” Tim says as he begins to get out of his seat. “Hood, cover the money. I’ll bring her to the car. Toby��s driving.”

“May the gods have mercy on our souls,” Brian wheezes under his breath as he reaches into his pocket to find his wallet and pay.

Toby lightly slaps his teammate’s shoulder before pushing in his seat and stretching slightly.

You watch with weary, tired eyes and slowly begin to drift off in your seat, barely even noticing how Tim carefully scoops you into his arms.

He’s able to pick you up like you weigh nothing, and really, you don’t. At least, not to him. He holds you as gently as he can and begins moving to exit the IHOP as softly as possible, not wanting to wake you. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had a rough time leading up to this paired with the fact your father is dead too.

Toby opens the IHOP’s door for Tim who is still carrying you and then clicks open the car as well. “W-Why don’t you h-hang out with h-her in the backseat? We h-have quite the d-d-drive until we make it t-t-to Alabama,” he suggests as he opens the back doors of the car behind the driver’s side. He then moves to allow Tim to do his work before slipping into the driver’s seat.

Tim hums thoughtfully before nodding. He gingerly sits you into the car before carefully prying your backpack off before dropping it softly to the floor of the car. After that, he puts your seatbelt on and closes the door gently, once again, to not startle you awake.

He then walks around the back of the car and gets into the passenger side’s back seat and puts his own seatbelt on, exhausted and wanting to take a nap himself. He absentmindedly watches the doors of the IHOP to see Brian waving good night to the staff in the building before he heads over to the car where Toby brings it to life.

“She asleep?” Brian asks as he takes his spot in the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Tim replies quietly. “Quiet from here on out and head talk,” he finishes just as softly before Toby begins to drive out of the parking lot.

You stir a bit as the car moves, mostly staying in a sitting up position until Toby finally enters the expressway heading down south to the temp house that the Slender Man wishes for them to essentially ‘raise’ you in. Your body falls as he turns onto the long stretch off road and you remain sleeping, head now resting on Tim’s lap.

Instead of moving you, he chuckles quietly to himself and then reaches in the back, groping around for his jacket until he finally finds it. Once in his hand, he drapes it over your small form. He watches you for a moment or more before relaxing back in the seat himself, quietly succumbing to sleep alongside you.

Toby and Brian watch him from the rear view mirror, ghosts of smiles on their faces.

You wake up late the next day. A groggy glance at the car’s clock shows that it’s almost past 2 in the afternoon. Goodness, you’ve never really slept in like that before! You shoot up, clearly startled.

“Nice to see you’re up,” Tim says in a slightly teasing tone as he stops gazing from out the window. “Really tired, huh?”

You nod slightly and allow your body the time to wake up. “I guess so?” You reply in a slightly embarrassed tone, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Alabama,” Brian answers as he glances at you from the rearview mirror. “Gonna be living there for a little while.”

“Why’s that?”

“The Operator wants us to be closer to him while you grow,” Tim says before he turns his attention back out the window.

When you give him a confused look, Tim relents, drops his shoulders and takes in a deep breath. “Alright, listen up, this is gonna be a lot.”

You look at him with stars in your eyes.

Tim begins to weave to you a story of the culture and society you are now expected to integrate into. He tells you of the Slender Man, or as you are now expected to call him the Operator's origins. He tells you of a similar being named Zalgo, and it is with him that the Operator tirelessly fights against. It’s an eternal battle that he, and everyone else in the car, doubts will be won or lost in your lifetime.

Tim tells you of proxies, those who serve directly under the Operator and what their purpose is. They are the ones who are held dearest and nearest to his heart and have the privilege of being on the top in this society. Proxies are cold, calculated, and tend to not have free will because they are so blinded by the Operator’s light. Still, there are some instances in which proxies retain their humanity - and that is what makes them simultaneously and strongest and weakest lengths in the hierarchy.

Then there’s the independents. Those that are, as the name implies, independent. While they can come and go as they please, but are still considered the Operator’s children because of how often they work with him. They also benefit from the Operator’s presence and protection, so they too are part of the hierarchy, they have not devoted themselves entirely to him and are considered lesser than proxies. In the Operator’s vision, they are more expendable than his direct children, but more than outliers.

Outliers are the beings that have little to no business with the Operator and do not directly benefit from his influence and protection. They are the blacksheep and scapegoats of the culture you are just learning to swim in. A good chunk of outliers are removed from the society all together on account of them not having exact higher thought, feelings and mentality. They are monsters, cryptids, the things who cause harm but do not think. There are some outliers that are exceptions to the common stereotype of what an outlier is, but they retain that status due to being stripped of an independent title. They aren’t even allowed most times in proxy spaces, but independents tend to welcome them with open arms.

Afterall, both independents and outliers know what it is like to be on the losing side of a classist divide.

Tim also tells you what he knew about your father. Known as the Wraith, he moved like a ghost and struck fear in his victims to the point of spellbinding paranoia that could land them under hospitalization. He made them lose their minds, slowly, painfully, until they were but a shell of what they used to be - a mockery of whatever came before. Your father was a damn good proxy, revered and respected. To hear of his loss was mourned across all three classes, as he was surprisingly fair and just in his treatment of those of lower social standing than him, even going so far as to attempt friendlier outlier contact between the other two, more cognitive groups.

Time and time again on the trip to Alabama, you are reminded that your father was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed in the eyes of humans.

And you can’t help but agree even though what you’ve seen from your father thus far has been minimal at most. You love him in the way any child would love their shadow.

“I only ever really saw him for special occasions,” you begin to explain, eyes focused on the passing trees, hand out the window as you guide it like an airplane as Tim drives the car. They’ve been shifting drivers every other hour now. “He was so kind and warm,” you continue, voice soft and fragile, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “I wish I could have known more of him.”

You get the sense that your teammates agree.

“Y’know,” Tim begins. “He would be pleased to see you’re taking up this mantle of his.” He throws you a supportive glance from the rearview mirror. “I remember him being worried he’d thrown you into a life where you’d come out the other end hating him. But, from what I’ve heard, you accepted your blood with relative grace.”

You feel a heat rise to your face as you focus on how the air glides over your hand, lifting it like a bird. “Yeah…” You trail off with a semi-awkward chuckle.

Tim throws you a knowing glance, smiling softly before turning back to the road.

You arrive in Alabama sometime during the night. The car, which was being driven by Toby once again, pulls into a house somewhere off the beaten path and mumbles about the foliage before he turns on his brights. The place looks relatively spooky, but in a very picturesque way. He continues driving on the uneven terrain before finally reaching the front porch of the house.

There, two men are sitting and talking. The one in the white hoodie looks up from his conversation with the blue masked man and waves, stepping down the first two steps to meet your group halfway.

Toby breathes out with a chuckle and turns the car off. “W-Were you g-guys waiting here a-all day for u-us?” He asks as he exits the car, twirling the car keys in his fingers before tossing them over to Tim, who catches them like second nature.

“Anything to see our favorite cannibal and hurricane of a being,” Brian lightly ribs, making the man in the white hoodie grin and the blue masked man chuckle.

Quietly, you get out the car and round it so you’re near Tim, mostly eyeing the two men with adrenaline coursing in your veins. The appearance of the man who is paler than the moon frightens you just a bit.

“Who’s this little sunflower?” He asks as he turns his attention from almost play fighting with Brian and Toby to waltz over to you. He’s just as imposing as everyone else and leans down slightly to match eye level with you.

“She’s W-Wraith’s k-kid,” Toby hums as he crosses his arms over his chest, head turned slightly to gauge how you’re feeling.

You look up at the clad in white man and attempt to smile. “Hi, I’m Reader, who are you?” You ask softly, still not entirely comfortable in his presence.

A grin begins to light up on his face. “Jeff. Jeff the Killer.” He crouches down and holds out his hand to you.

You grip onto Tim’s forearm, hiding behind him like you did with your mother when he nods that it’s okay for you to say hello.

“He won’t bite, not while I’m here,” he says in a reassuring tone. “You can say hi,” he gently encourages.

You shyly hold your hand out to the man you now know as Jeff and shake it, amazed that he feels like a still smouldering fire. “Killer?”

Jeff suppresses a giggle and nods. “That’s right. Your father was a good one too,” he compliments before letting your hand go. He then turns his head over his shoulder. “EJ, stop being a wet blanket and come say hello to the sunflower.”

The man on the porch scoffs before slowly getting up from the stairs. He stretches slightly as he walks over. His mask startles you as he comes up to you. He does not crouch down to meet you like Jeff did. “I’m EJ.” There’s no warmth in his tone, but he holds his hand out regardless.

Jeff rolls his blue eyes and elbows Eyeless Jack’s ribs. “It’s a kid you dickhead, not a patient,” he hisses before elbowing him again. “Try that again.”

Your group laughs slightly in response, but Eyeless Jack obliges his friend.

“Hi, I’m EJ.”

“What does that stand for?” You ask as you take his hand into yours, shaking it. Your other hand remains firmly planted to Tim’s forearm. He’s just really comforting for you in such an uneasy situation.

You notice Eyeless Jack give Tim a slight look, almost asking if he could do so before getting a very reluctant nod.

“Eyeless Jack.”

“You have all the grace of a drunken sloth” Tim sighs.

“What? You said I could be real.”

“No lead up? You just?”

“Masky, you know I respect you more than most proxies, but you’re literally going to train her for this stuff. There’s no use in beating around the bush. Look,” the grey skinned man pauses for a moment and begins to slip his mask off.

You watch in deep curiosity as you look upwards, wondering what he looks like. When you get your answer, your curiosity grows. Though, it shows up as a shocked fear despite that not being what you feel.

“You okay, Reader?” Tim asks softly as he looks down at you.

“You b-b-broke the kid,” Toby says with an eyebrow raised, leaning in the doorway of the temp house before Brian shakes his head with a stupid grin, heading into the house to set things up and properly accommodate everyone’s move in.

“Yeah, because he’s so ugly-”Jeff is barely able to say before you cut him off.

“You are so cool!” You suddenly exclaim, small hands reaching upwards to Eyeless Jack’s face and to signal him to come down so you can see him better.

Eyeless Jack’s stoic face blooms into a smile as he crouches down almost instantly, a heat rising to his cheeks over the compliment.

You immediately leave Tim’s side to look over the grey skinned man’s face, fingers gently brushing over his cheeks. “What is this?” You ask excitedly, clearly referring to the inky black tears that waterfall from his eyes.

“Some goop that comes from my eyes when my body decides I need to eat the food most of you don’t,” he explains, holding back his amused laughter at how gently you touch him with all the wonder a child can. Normally, Eyeless Jack would not let anyone touch him, nor would he let a stranger get remotely this close to him, but he’s admittedly charmed with you.

“Jeeze, Masky, you never told us Wraith’s kid wasn’t a psychopath,” Jeff teases slightly as he rests his forearm on Tim’s shoulder.

“To be fair, I didn’t know either - we really haven’t spent too much time with her,” he chuckles warmly as he watches you brush your fingers through Jack’s hair, amazed that the texture is so soft despite it looking scratchy and a little dry. “Okay, Reader, that’s enough petting EJ,” Tim says as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I think our uh, meat eating friend needs to get some food in his stomach judging by how many tears he’s producing right now.”

“Do I have to?” You ask as you step back from Eyeless Jack, allowing the tall man to stand up and recompose himself.

“Yup,” Tim replies, popping the ‘p’. “Besides, it’s late and I’m not messing your sleep schedule up anymore,” he finishes as he nods for you to head into the house.

“Will we see these two again?”

“Of course you will,” Tim says as he begins leading you into the house, waving goodbye to the two men who are about to head out into the woods. “You have all the time in the world,” he hums, pleased you made a good impression on some of his society's most prominent figures at the moment.

You turn over briefly and smile widely. “Bye! I hope to see you soon!” You bid before finally being ushered into the house by Tim.

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff wave back, smiles on their faces.

“See you soon, sunflower,” Jeff murmurs to himself.

A pregnant pause comes between the two best friends.

“You see what she’s doing to him?” Jeff absentmindedly chuckles as he and Eyeless Jack begin to travel into the darkness of the woods.

“What a softie,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

“Takes one to know one,” Jeff retorts.

The two laugh.

Tim spends most of his time teaching you and that’s only because the Operator keeps sending out his teammates over him. It’s probably just how the tall man wanted it. You soak up information like a sponge. Everyone can see it.

He teaches you everything he can. For instance, the proxy hierarchical role is strict and considered one of the most respected of rules. Group leaders are leaders because the Operator says they are, but it can also be taken by force. That normally doesn’t happen though. Group leaders hold the responsibility of ensuring their proxies are taken care of, and if they are new, properly integrated into the society. That’s what he’s currently doing with you.

Next up comes the right hand. Not every group has a right hand because some group leaders are paranoid or jerks and cannot learn to trust, but it is highly recommended group leaders have a right hand. This group’s right hand is Brian, or as you know him, Hoodie. Right hands provide guidance when group leaders are conflicted, and can step in on behalf of their leader depending on the situation. They are to be just as respected and revered and can be the stand in should a group leader be missing. This role is not given, it is asked.

Then come what Tim lovingly refers to as ‘the middle children’. Those are the proxies that aren’t group leaders, right hands, or runts. They are the ones who just exist as part of the group unit. They have no significant power but are allowed to participate in the hazing process. ‘Middle children’ tend to pop up when runts outgrow their runt status or a new runt takes their place. It is possible to have multiple ‘middle children’.

Runts are the lowest in the unit. They are the newest in their group, but not always the newest or least inexperienced. If you are traded amongst groups, you become a runt, but in such cases as this, the hazing process is nowhere near as brutal as it would be for those who are inexperienced and coming into the proxy life for the first time. Because runts are usually in an initiatory stage and still learning, they must be bent and broken until the group leader says there is no further need. Runts are often the lapdogs of the group and tend to do everything the rest of the group does not want to do. They are considered the most expendable.

The hazing process is something that you are exempt from. Tim told you it was because you are a child, and he is not a child abuser. Still, after learning of the hazing process, you admit that you feel sick to your stomach. The hazing process is brutal in every sense and can sap the life out of the proxies it affects. Everything goes when a runt is in the process, from mental, emotional and physical torture. Depending on the group leader, the process will last anywhere from a few weeks, months, to even years.

You are thankful you are exempt.

Tim teaches you more and more as the months go on, and still, with stars in your eyes, you soak up information like a sponge. Technique is something he’s always testing on you, and it plays like a fun game.

“I’m going to wait upstairs and read,” he says one morning. “Maybe get some other work done. Wait down here for however long you need, and tap my shoulder without me hearing you. Stay silent as possible. If I hear you, you lose.” He then gets up from the kitchen table and heads upstairs, coffee cup in hand before he heads into the study.

You watch Tim leave and furrow your brows, your heart racing. So far, he’s drilled stamina into you, basic self defense, and other things young proxies might need but this is the task that makes your heart palpitate. You hear him open the study door and half way close it before he settles in and begins reading.

You don’t want to rush into this. So, you take your time, just silently moving from the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs, that task in itself taking until the afternoon. You don’t want to mess this up.

You hold your breath as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Even though it’s carpeted, you don't want any part of you betraying your stealth. You wait at the bottom of the stairs, inching up step by step until you finally reach the top.

The sun has set by the time you wait outside the wall in front of the study door.

You hold your breath as you quietly step into the doorway - and you see it - Tim has flinched. Hopped up on adrenaline, you take your time and slink your way behind him before finally tapping him on the shoulder.

He doesn’t jolt, but he turns around and smiles widely. “Good job!” He compliments, standing up and stretching his limbs. He’s been sitting an entire day, after all. “I’m really proud of you.” He pats the top of your head and you see it in his eyes- he’s actually super proud of you.

But he flinched when you waited in the doorway.

He knew.

Still, you accept this victory with grace, wondering what else he might teach you.

Tim teaches you so much as you grow older under his care. Though one of the most monumental lessons was after you took a life for the first time at fourteen. He had wanted to wait until you were sixteen, but the Operator demanded it.

You’ve learned so much knife skills from him, weaponry in general, but nothing he could have taught you would have prepared you for what it means to take a life.

The two of you had just gotten through interrogating a man who really did not deserve to live. He had been blubbering for the past few hours, and Tim was exhausted from trying to weasel information out from him.

“Ghost,” he addresses, his masked face looking at you with budding amusement. “Finish this for me.”

“What?” You say. You know what he means, you just don’t want to actually admit it.

“Finish him for me,” he shrugs. “It’s about time.”

“I don’t know how?”

“Sure you do,” he hums. “You have your knife and I know your skills are more than good,” he says as he rests his hand on his hips. “You could also shoot him. We’re in an area where no one would even care about a gun going off. Or, you could brutalize him,” he trails off as he lists off the ways you could end a life like items on a grocery list. “I don’t know if you have enough power for actually brutalizing him though,” he jokes slightly, lightly slapping the man’s face to keep him up. “Y’hear that, bud? You got lucky. If it were up to me, I’d break off your limbs one by one and tear open your chest letting you see your beating heart.”

The man’s eyes go wide as he squirms helplessly.

He’s not getting out of this one alive.

You awkwardly look at Tim. “What… What do you suggest?” You ask quietly.

Tim’s eyes dart to your gun. “For your first time? Clean and fast.”

Obliging your group leader’s words, you take out your gun and flick off safety. The hardest part is looking them in the eye. You raise it and point it at the man’s forehead, eyes narrowed from behind your mask.

The man is pleading with you, tears streaming down his face.

“Always pull the trigger..?” You begin, attempting to buy some time.

“On empty lungs,” Tim finishes.

You pull.

It’s almost a little sinful to admit how easy murder has become after that moment. For the next two years, you and your group began going out on more missions as a unit. Your power had grown immensely, and the Operator’s point was beginning to show through.

The younger the proxy, the more efficient they become as they grow. He knows children are plastic, and you are his living proof that success must start young. Still, he watches you grow carefully, and Tim keeps his boss in the loop with every little milestone you hit.

First it was ten confirmed kills, then twenty five, and before you knew it, fifty. Fifty confirmed kills before you were sixteen.

Tim himself has grown rather fond of you in ways that no one else has - though, you are easy to get along with. Besides your group regularly spending time with you and falling deeper and deeper in love with you as their little one, Tim has become what you always envisioned the shadow of your father to be.

He’s the first to greet you in the morning and the last to wish you good night. He spends most of his waking hours with you, and it’s a good memory every single time. He trusts you immensely, and in turn, you trust him. Admittedly, he’s always had a soft spot for you and that much is apparent and always has been.

Tim has always been there for you when it all feels like too much.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble as you curl deeper onto your bed, sheets over your head.

“What happened?” He asks in a serious tone, clearly not wanting to play games.

“I said that I’m fine-”

“Bullshit,” he says as he marches into your room, ready to tear off your blankets. He knows teenagers are prone to giving the adults in their life hell, but you’ve never done this until, well, now.

You’re clawing to keep your blankets on but your strength pales in comparison to Tim’s. You screech as he finally tears the blankets from you, expecting full anger but instead, a look of horror.

“What the-what happened to you?” He asks in shock as he looks at the large red claw marks on your midsection and legs. It looks like you fought off a bear. “How long have you been like this- this is dangerous, you could get infected!” His tone is only loud because he’s scared. He wastes no time in scooping you up into his arms and rushing to the bathroom to tend to your injuries.

You hiss in pain but keep your lips tight, not wanting to admit what happened.

You let Tim work on you and disinfect your wounds as his emotions finally come down to a normal place. You realize it’s because he cares about you, but you’re still worried that he’s going to flare up again.

“Are you ever going to tell me what caused this? Or am I to believe some poltergeist waltzed in here and cut you up?”

You avert your gaze from the only solid father figure you’ve ever had. “I… I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you mumble.

“What?” He sounds genuinely confused, as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you speed out again, face burning with embarrassment.

You see a plethora of emotions pass over Tim’s face as he applies another bandaid to one of the more minor cuts on your leg before he settles on relief. “Holy shit,” he breathes out as he drops the products he had been working with. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he breathes out as he takes you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can without causing any pain to your body that is still healing.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you hug him back.

Your skill grows so immensely, that your group and the Operator trust you with going on one of the most high stakes missions he’s ever sent modern proxies on. He hasn’t sent you a group on something like this since… Goodness, the 1700s? It’s been a while.

The Operator asked you to hunt down Zalgo’s favored son and kill him. It sounds easy in words, but in practice, near impossible.

“He’s sending us on a death match,” mumbles Brian. “I-What do you guys think? Are we ready?”

You and the other two shrug, not knowing what to say. You just know that you will be following Tim’s lead, as he is your group leader and the man who matters most in your life.

“I’m a-a-apprehensive,” Toby hums. “But, I t-t-think with our collective t-talents, we m-might have a shot.”

Tim looks at you, wanting to know your input when you hesitantly nod. “Guess we’re going.”

Finding Zalgo’s son was easy, but pinning him down was anything but. Everything had gone so smoothly up until it was time to face off with him, the man of the hour.

Toby and Brian were preoccupied with fending off Zalgo’s proxies who were placed in the house to keep his favored, most beloved son safe, and you and Tim had managed to slip in.

It was just the two of you with Zalgo’s son, and he was beating the two of you close to death.

“I’ll ask again,” his smooth, velvety voice growled. “Who do you consider the most expendable in your group?”

When neither you nor Tim answer, the child of Zalgo screams in frustration and rage before barrelling towards you, grabbing your weakened body and throwing you into the large stained glass windows.

Due to the sheer force of how hard he had thrown you, you tumbled out onto the grassy lawn, air stolen from your lungs. You laid on the ground gasping like a fish out of water before slowly attempting to crawl back in and help Tim.

Your fingers hoisted you up through the broken windows, allowing you to see what was going on inside. And it horrified you.

Zalgo’s son was holding Tim up by his neck, choking the life out of him.

“Who is the most expendable?” He demands again.

“I’m… not..!”

“TELL ME-”

“Fuck you-” he barely manages to wheeze out.

You’re panicking, wondering what you can do to help him when the son leans in exceptionally close.

“Say it.” He tosses Tim’s body to the ground, watching as he weakly attempts to get back up.

“R...Reader,” he admits. “She’s the most… She’s the most expendable,” he coughs out, blood and other things being released from his damaged system. “You already threw her out-”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I ended her now?” The son taunts, eyes shifting to the stained glass windows where he hurled you out.

Tim shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying-” he cuts himself off by coughing more. “I’m just saying she’s not prepared, she’s still weak-”

You feel your heart stop. You listen into his thoughts, he’s emotionally vulnerable, and see that he’s telling the truth. There isn’t any second thought that’s telling you he’s fibbing to buy time.

“You don’t trust her?” He inquires, bending low, ready to choke the life out of Tim again.

“I don’t,” he weakly says. “In fact, she’s due to be transferred from us soon-” he’s cut off by the son laughing and lifting him up again by his throat.

The son looks over his shoulder to see tears streaming down your cheeks. “And you call me a monster,” he cruelly laughs.

It’s cut short by Toby and Brian breaking down the door, shooting the son with his father’s favorite gun.

Tim is once again dropped to the floor, and Brian rushes to help him.

Toby leaves their side and sprints to the window to help you. He sees you're crying. “W-What’s wrong? W-Where does it h-h-hurt?” He asks, worry lacing his expression as he helps you back over.

You shake your head and refuse to say anything.

The car ride back to your temp house is awkward at best and downright uncomfortable at worst. You are sitting in the passenger seat because you refuse to sit next to Tim who had admitted something you weren’t really supposed to find out.

And the other two men, both Toby and Brian know it too.

‘Is it true?’ You ask the right hand, looking emptily out the window. The lights that pass overhead are counted as mental busy work.

‘Reader,’ Brian’s voice sighs. ‘I… I’m really sorry,’ he says. ‘I fought him on this, but… But being a proxy isn’t easy-’

‘So you’re abandoning me?’ You ask, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again. ‘You’re gonna leave me in the hands of some strangers because I’m not good enough?’

Brian sighs deeply and glances at you briefly as he continues to drive. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t accept it.’ You shift in your seat and curl up, not wanting to even look at your group. They’ve basically broken your trust, but hearing it from Tim? The man you viewed as most important in your life? The man would talk to you over cups of coffee on the rooftop before the sun came up? The same man who had once said you were the child he was never allowed to have?

He called you weak. Expendable. He has said you are not worthy of his trust.

The first time your anger boiled over was a few days after downing Zalgo’s son. It was just the two of you in the living room, your other two teammates out on other errands. Every day felt like a ticking time bomb of when you will be released to another group.

“We need to talk,” Tim says.

“About?”

“What… What I said back then.” He still has marks on his neck from the son attempting to choke him to death.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He sighs deeply. You have every right to be mad at him. “It’s not that simple,” he starts. “I never meant for it to come out like that,” he says with a frown, eyes not entirely meeting you. He attempts to explain further, but you don’t want to hear it.

You get up, waving him off. “Shut up.”

“Reader-”

“Shut. Up.” You storm upstairs.

The fights do not get any lighter. They say time heals all wounds, but in your case, it exacerbates them. It becomes a nearly every day affair now.

Words are shot like bullets into the house that used to be built by the loving relationship you had with Tim. But, ever since he uttered those words and dug his heels in deeper over the fact you were actively challenging him, you drifted further and further from him.

Toby and Brian try to stay out of those conversations. They both care about you, but at the same time, they understand that being a proxy really isn’t easy. You get jumbled around, shaken up, and sometimes, traded. While no one is replacing you, the fact Tim agreed to let you go was what hurt the most.

According to Toby, he never even fought for you.

You leave them at the same diner you met them at. Sixteen years old and ready to be in the hands of another group. You sit in the passenger seat of the car, eyes empty, and heart torn.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” Brian asks with a small smile.

You shake your head. “No.”

He sighs and drops his shoulders. “I…” He pauses, and when words fail him, he leans over in the driver’s seat and wraps his arms around you. You hug back, realizing your beef isn’t with the right hand and allow tears to well in your eyes. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “It’s going to be quiet without you,” he mumbles. He looks at you with all the adoration an older sibling might as he lets you go.

Toby, has gotten out of the car at this point and walked around the front, opens your door and leans down.

“No, let me,” you say softly as you unbuckle, grabbing your backpack and whatever else you may need before stepping out. Once you’re standing, you find yourself tangled in Toby’s arms.

“I h-hate goodbyes,” he admits as he sways the two of you.

You hug him back and smile softly. “I’ll be seeing you, yeah?” You mumble as he squeezes you tighter.

He nods. “Y-You better!” He laughs, not allowing his thinly veiled choked up tears to enter his voice as he lets you go. Toby checks you over once more, nothing but love in his eyes as he reluctantly takes your place in the passenger seat. You can tell he’s bitter over finally having it back.

Tim is in the back seat, passenger side. He looks at you through the window of the car, eyes red and puffy. He wants to say so much to you and nothing at all.

You share in the sentiment, nod slightly and fight cursing him out again, then head into the same place you met them in. Ready to be a part of a new group. One that hopefully, will not doubt your abilities as a growing proxy.

When you head in and walk out of their lives, Tim’s mask falls, and tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suffocating and can’t even think clearly.

“Fucking drive,” he coldly hisses as he takes in deep, labored breaths.

Brian, not wanting to fight his leader and understanding the man hasn’t been this emotionally broken since Jay’s death, obliges him.

Tim watches you greet your new team, and his heart breaks all over again.

You’re now twenty years old. My how the time flies. You are more than an established proxy now, and your new group treats you as such.

There’s four of them, your new family.

A group leader named Wallace, who is fair but kind. A right hand named Theo, who is a nightmare in proxy form. A ‘middle child’ named Ruth, who vaguely reminds you of your mother. And finally, an independent by the name of Nyein.

They’ve been good to you over the years you’ve known them, and you can tell they genuinely love you in their own way. You feel like you can tell them almost anything and everything, but everyone has skeletons in their closet and you are no exception.

It’s Wallace’s job as your group leader to understand his proxies and be able to understand them at all costs. He doesn’t mean to pry while it’s still fresh.

“So, how are you doing this fine evening?” The deep voiced proxy asks as he joins you on the balcony of the hotel the five of you are currently staying in.

“I could always be better,” you answer. When you sigh, he gives a knowing hum. “What?” He shrugs. “Pardon my reach,” he begins. “But, Timothy…”

“Too early,” you cut him off.

“Right, my bad,” he apologizes. “We can always come back to this later.”

You huff.

Ruth inquires about it next. She’s gentle in her approach, and you almost spill it all to her, but the pain of what happened ices you back over.

“I understand that you and your previous group went up against Zalgo’s son?”

“Yeah.”

She gently moves some of your hair behind your ear. “How did that go?” She sees your expression fall, and she frowns. “So that’s what happened,” she hums, not even needing you to say what happened directly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say. “Not like you contributed,” you mumble. “He didn’t want me.”

Her hand rests on your back, silently telling you that you can always find comfort in her.

Theo asks in the most brash manner he can. He doesn’t really care about feelings or making people uncomfortable, but he does respect you.

“So, Masky traded you like pokemon cards huh?”

You throw a decidedly hard punch at him.

“Take that as a yes.”

“Are you fucking with me?” You groan in an exasperated tone.

“If it fires you up so your punches stop feeling like taps, sure,” he grins. “Come on, let it out. What did that bastard do to you?”

You answer him with harder punches.

Theo doesn’t respect Tim, but it’s not like he ever respected him to begin with.

Nyein honesty doesn’t ask. They don’t want to make you uncomfortable and they refuse to push your boundaries. They know something hurtful happened, and they understand that pain is carefully guarded for a reason. The only time they ask anything in regards to what hurt you from before was when you were preparing to meet up with your old group for what was ‘lovingly’ dubbed a collaboration.

‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ They ask, cocking their head to the side.

“I’ll be fine-”

‘I know you’re lying,’ they sign with a frown. ‘I can smell that on you, y’know?’

You chuckle and push lightly at them. “If anything isn’t to my liking, you can always eat Masky.”

Their face lights up.

The news that you and your previous team were going to be working together was hell on the ears. In fact, you heard it, and found yourself panicking over the fact you might need to see Tim again. According to Wallace, yes. Tim was still alive and well.

“He looks older though and more depressing,” the blond haired man chuckled. “Fuckin’ hate Timothy.”

Theo rolls his eyes but turns to you anyway. “He’s right on the old and depressing thing.”

You take that thought in and sigh.

Time to face him again.

You and your group decide to meet Tim’s on the edge of the town you all will be invading. Something about mass recruitment and taking out multiple targets. You all know it’s busy work and the Slender Man likes to make you suffer, but it gives you some time to talk until the sun sets.

Ruth and Nyein immediately overtake some time waiting by swarming around Toby and sharing giggles. Wallace and Theo (who may or may not have been talking to Tim prior to this) have run off with Brian to also just talk.

They’re not always at each other’s throats.

That leaves you with Tim.

You’re currently sitting in a grassy field, plucking flowers from the earth and taking in the sweet scent as the sun slowly makes its way to bed. You’ve spent a good portion of time alone, and when Tim finally makes his appearance, you do not stir. You do not acknowledge him.

It’s uncomfortably silent when he takes a seat near you, but not close to you.

“How have you been?” He asks quietly, almost as if he’s scared you’ll take flight again.

It’s been four years, you can reply without anger overtaking your system.

“Decent, like any proxy,” you answer, eyes still honed in on the flowers and how the remaining golden shafts of light filter through the leaves and change the color to something delicate and pure. “And you?” You’re just asking as a formality, not because you actually care.

“The same as you, I suppose,” he answers back, his voice still soft.

Another silence passes until you finally get the urge to look over at the man you once viewed as a parental figure.

Your eyes almost water when seeing him. He’s older now, much older. Still has that kind of youth that comes with being the Operator’s play thing, but he’s sad. His eyes are dark, devoid of light, and soft as if he’s barely holding it together. He still smells like cigarettes.

Tim is the first to speak, a sorrowful smile on his face as he takes in a deep breath and looks at you with an adoration that never truly left. “You look older,” he notes, taking note of how you grew into your looks. You don’t look like that scrawny little preteen anymore. He knows that you’re a young lady now, and he only wishes he was there to see it. “I like it.”

You bristle on instinct. “I don’t need your approval-”

“I know,” he sighs as he turns his gaze up to the clouds that pass overhead. The skies are the faintest of pink and purple. He thinks it’s pretty.

“You look… Older too,” you finally say, feeling awkward and at home all at once.

Tim chuckles quietly under his breath. “Yeah,” he hums. “I’m in my thirties.”

For some reason, it makes you giggle.

He lights up at the sound of your laugh.

When it dies down, the two of you remain in silence, just letting the world pass by as the sun sinks lower and lower. It’s peaceful, nowhere near as hostile as you were originally expecting it to be, and you find that you enjoy the overall experience.

Still, there is a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that reminds you of everything that has happened, and it still stings. It is the wound that will never heal.

As if he was reading your thoughts, Tim breathes out again and continues looking up at the slowly darkening sky. “I really am sorry for what happened,” he apologizes once more. “I was sorry back then, and I’m still sorry now.”

You frown and knit your brows together in confusion. “You… You just let me go, like I didn’t matter.”

“I know.”

“Tim-”

“I can’t undo that,” he says. “But… But I can try that now-”

“Please no-”

“I have better credit in the Operator’s eyes, maybe we could-”

“No-”

“I could ask for you back-”

“That’s enough.”

Your eyes are dark and you can feel something unpleasant bubbling in your chest and throat. When you had first been placed in Wallace’s group, some part of you had some naive childish dream that Tim would come back, take you in his arms and prove that he wanted you and was truly the right sort of man to have as a role model in your life. That dream never came true, so you stopped having it. You let it die and get returned to the earth. You let it drift away.

But at the same time, you wonder what would be different now - if you could even accept being taken back into his group. Would that even be healthy? It took Wallace and the others months just to get you to stop waking up in tears, nearly on the verge of losing your guts through your mouth and to stop you from panicking when one of them said they had to go out. It took them months to get you to even remotely let down your guard on your abandonment issues.

They’d been so patient with you. They watched you grow.

But here was Tim. Sitting next to you in the world’s most beautiful flower field extending an olive branch, wondering if he could ever atone for his sins by asking for you back and making you a part of his group again.

And that makes you wonder, is he doing this because he misses you, or because he feels bad?

The sun sinks below the horizon, and the moon begins to rise in the sky.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you.

You have a job to do, and some things?

Well, they’re better left unsaid.

#masky x reader #masky #marble hornets #tim wright #mh #creepypasta #creepypasta masky #angst #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #hoodie #brian thomas #slender man #the operator #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets x reader

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the-silentium · 3 years

Text

Home Sweet Home

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 7569 words

Warnings: Angst, sexual innuendos.

A/N: Last “soft” chap before the action come back ~

**Words in bold are words said in French, which means the clones can’t understand it.**

Taglist: @clone-rambles / @mandaloriandin / @apathetic-catastrophie / @jenstar1992-2 / @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5 / @and-claudia / @lackofhonor / @gaymasonjar / @depthsreturn / @koskareevesismyqueen / @leonidas-banana-phone

____________________

Nothing changed. Not the obnoxious people, not the earthy smells, nor the heavy atmosphere. The loud locks of the gates closing behind your group still resonated through your ears, sounding too much like the last nail sealing your coffin shut and not like a protecting device. Was it your instincts telling you that you made the wrong decision? Or was it just the dread of returning somewhere you never wanted to return? Either way, it was clear that you didn't feel any bits of nostalgia at being back between these rocky walls.

Hells, even the council's room was giving off unpleasant vibes with its tall bookcases carved directly into the walls that protected way too many old books that weren't all redacted in French nor in Basic. A map of the planet hung on the furthest wall of the room, the different villages identified with their respective symbol to help with trades, hunts, fights. Frabas' name crossed out in blood-red ink to remind everyone of the overnight genocide that happened there.

The lanterns were the only nice things in the room. The soft green and blue crystals contained within the glass enclosure bathed the whole room in their light. Maybe if you focussed on them long enough their glow would soothe your mind.

"Excuse me? You spit on it?" Tech's sudden high pitch tone was surprising enough to pass through your incessant flow of thoughts

"Yeah. Right there." He pointed at an intergrown knot close to the far extremity of the table where the heads usually sat. "What? Did you want me to piss on it? That's a bit too animalistic." Kayden added as soon as he noticed Tech's offended expression that quickly morphed into a disgusted one.

"Honestly, with you people, I wouldn't have been surprised." Crosshair's jeer traveled the room in a second. It took even less to drop Kayden's mood.

His hand tightened around yours and without losing a single second, you matched his grip to keep him from expressing his frustration through anything physical. Now wasn't the time to start a fight between your own team members when several other players might want to hurt you.

If tonight's bad luck could turn into good fortune at least once, now would be the time. The 'diplomats' were out of harm's way, Kayden had technically done what he was told and thus was not considered a traitor, leaving you alone on the spot.

"Look who just found his voice again." He caught your message and used his words instead. "I was sure you'd swallowed your tongue when you ran like a chicken back there."

"And who ran the fastest in the group eh?" The sniper walked to the table. His hands fell flat on the wood to support himself as he leaned forward, daring the brunette at your sides to make a move.

"The fastest is usually the one to survive." He pointed out as he scratched at his clothed chest with his free hand, his right one still prisoner of your grip.

"Crosshair." Hunter slightly pulled him backward by the pauldron and away from the incoming confrontation. "Enough." He added with a growl, clearly remembering how this wasn't his brother. Not fully.

Against all expectation, Crosshair did back off, although he quickly moved his animosity towards the new source of irritation, clear proof that this wasn't the man with whom Hunter had shared so many memories, good or bad. He was a total stranger that didn't respect him at all and lived to push his buttons. Why he stayed with you all was a mystery, although you weren't complaining. Keeping him restrained while in the jungle would have been a true challenge.

It was like waiting for a storm to explode. The dark grey clouds were there, the strong winds blew away everything in their wake, the thunder resonated in the distance, yet there wasn't any droplet of rain. The men faced each other just like in the cave, mere centimeters separated their chest plates and anytime now, the first blow would mark the start of a colossal downpour.

It was nerve-wracking. Even Wrecker and Tech were watching, clearly pondering if they should intervene or if by doing so they would aggravate the situation. You started getting up as the door opened and startled you into seating down again.

Never had you thought that seeing Arlan enter a room would make you feel relieved, yet, this was exactly how you felt at the moment. It seemed like the sudden entrance of an outsider was enough for Crosshair to back off. You subtly crossed your fingers that he wouldn't lash out at the leader even though the scene would very probably make you feel so much better. The consequences of going against Arlan just weren't worth it.

Before the dark-haired leader could notice it, you separated your hand from Kayden's, both your backs straightened and your unbothered masks came back on. Wearing the well-worn suit of this fake cocky personality was deeply uncomfortable but truly necessary. Over the years it became your best shield and Kayden your best ally.

"Take a seat." Arlan waved towards the table as he walked deeper into the room, passing Hunter and Crosshair like they weren't even there. It took years to be able to read the black-haired leader, but it definitely came in handy now.

His calm tone hid a deep irritation that showed through the tightness gripping the muscles around his eyes. He quickly tamed his features as he took place at the end of the table, his elbows immediately meeting the hardwood of the armchairs to allow his fingers to interlace before him.

Soon the 4 seats opposing you were occupied with rigid troopers. Their helmets still firmly on would have been seen as an enormous lack of respect if only Arlan's attention wasn't already focussed on two nasty boots dripping mud onto the piece of art that was the table.

Arlan only needed one look to communicate thoroughly his thoughts. The hard gaze that could easily be misinterpreted as a constipated one transpired enough threats that Kayden removed his boots without any further delay. The ultimatum was clear and you both knew that there was nothing Arlan despised more than repeating himself. Well, maybe you two were the firsts on his list, but that was especially because you loved to make him repeat himself.

If only he didn't look like there was an entire fire-ants colony in his pants, Kayden would have kept his feet up for a bit longer just to raise the man's blood pressure a little. You swore he got more grey hair each time he had to talk with the two of you.

The disapproving sigh accompanying the stormy grey hues boring deeply into yours was a true gift to Kayden whose smirk widened in consequence.

"Do you know why you're here?" The question resonated within the room with utmost seriousness, a seriousness that you forced yourself to shrug nonchalantly in response.

"Surely not because you missed me." You placed a smirk on your lips to copy your sidekick and complete the infernal duo act.

His dark-grey sleeves rode up his arms as he bent forward, his elbows now resting on the table, to get a closer look at you, 3 chairs away. Whilst being very tempting, flinching under his hard stare was out of the question. Four months in a medbay with kind people almost made you forget what the world was really made of; selfish people who always looked out for weaknesses to exploit and were eager to beat others down in hope to raise themselves up.

"We are here to talk relations between the Republic and your planet." Hunter sharply stated, cutting short the staring contest. "My team was sent in a preliminary manner to inform you of the Republic's intentions seeing as your representatives couldn't be reached through official channels. In the following days, two senators will be coming here with adequate troops to talk in the Senate's name."

How the room got hotter in a second was a mystery. All you knew was that even though his tone was borderline too crisp to be qualified as diplomatic, Hunter's words were so perfectly chosen that you wondered if he'd done this kind of job before.

As the silence following Hunter's declaration stretched, Arlan's gaze moved to the hard visor of the commando trooper. The intensity of his stare left you thinking that maybe he was able to see through the shade. Unfazed, Hunter stared right back as you did just moments prior.

You nearly missed it. If you hadn't been watching Arlan as intently as you were doing, the minuscule flash in his eye would have been overlooked. A muscle jumped in his jaw, filling you with dread. Something was wrong. Somehow he had the upper hand and he was internally relishing his win.

"A very well executed lie, but I am sorry to announce you that the Republic won't come here, Sergeant. Not after the Jedis signed a treaty to never come on this planet ever again." You were sure he paused just to get a reaction out of the commando. Hunter's helmet hid his expression perfectly. If he'd reacted or not was totally lost on everyone, unfortunately, it wasn't the same for Kayden whose eyes grew as big as saucers. "No Jedi, no clone, no senator, no Separatist, no outsider is welcome here."

Say what now? Never before had you ever heard of Jedis ever landing a foot on Fors, even less signing a treaty.

Hunter's helmet slightly dipped in your direction, surely to get some answers through your body language. Surely, he got the message when you gulped, wariness filling your eyes as you continued to stare at the man in his mid-50s. His message had been pretty clear from the very beginning. That he felt the need to add that the clones weren't welcome caused doubts in your village ethics to creep into your mind.

As far as you knew, no one had ever been executed in cold blood. Sure, you'd heard stories as a child about how people who were a tad bit too disturbing in the community would vanish overnight, obviously thrown out into the jungle to be feasted on by some hungry creature. Without knowing if they were true events or simply a way to make children behave, you took a habit of sticking with Kayden as soon as the firsts Furants that created their nests in the crooks of the walls circling the village entered the gates to hide, signaling that 7 pm had recently passed and the Nightmares would show up in under an hour. After all, there was no better nuisance in Alryan than the two of you.

Knowing that Arlan's smugness was carefully hidden under layers of practiced indifference, a very tantalizing urge to break your knuckles once again send tingles into your dominant hand. Breaking his nose for a second time would definitely help your mood as well as everyone else's in the room, you were sure of it.

"The- the Jedis? But they never-"

"It is not common knowledge." Arlan archly cut Kayden short and rolled his eyes with that very particular expression that made you feel like the stupidest idiot in the galaxy. In response, the tingles in your hand intensified. "This treaty is way older than me after all. We never needed the Republic's help in any way, not then and certainly not now." He at least had the decency to meet his eyes as he talked.

"And what do you think of the Nightmares? Frabas-" You piped up, the image of a traumatized red-head girl shaking in her bloody clothes popped in your mind. "They could've helped with that."

"They are protectors." He closed his eyes in exasperation and pinched his nose like he'd repeated the concept over and over again to a child that never retained anything.

"They don't protect shit! They kill us!"

Where had he been his whole life? Every night they came and howled, screeched, hissed, yapped and laughed on the other side of the gates in hope of having some juicy flesh and fresh blood to appease their hunger and thirst. Some even went as far as hitting the gates repeatedly in hope of breaking their way in. 10 hours per night, 368 nights a year, every year.

"They protect the Core that's in you--" He interrupted himself as soon as he noticed the irritation breaching his mask, allowing venom to drip through the closing cracks. His rage fit only lasted a second but it was a second too much. He gave you more than he wanted you to know.

"What do you mean? In me?" You could feel yourself starting to shake. In apprehension, anger or fear you couldn't tell. There was too much going on at the same time, assaulting your already tired mind.

"Nothing that you need to know." His tone was definitive, his grey eyes conveying the same message.

"Bullshit!" You jump to your feet just as he pushed his chair to get up. "If it's in me like you say, I deserve to know!"

Your yell must have triggered something, because as soon as the words flew from your mouth, Rhian and his troops entered the room, bows fully bent and ready to shoot in your direction. Elijah had his hammer in both hands, fully prepared to use it against a clone- your money went on Wrecker- if needed and Pete was ready to blow a tranquilizer- or it could easily be a fast-acting poison- into someone's neck.

The answer to the intrusion was immediate. Wrecker's chair went flying behind him at the impact of his legs when he followed his CO's movement. All four troopers stood on their side of the table, imposing and totally ready to enter a fight if need be. You and Kayden though? Totally not ready. You were unarmed and by the time you took hold of Kayden's bow, at least three arrows would have found their way into your body.

"All you really deserved was to die on Murphy Day." He snarled in your direction as his impatience once again showed through his slipping mask. "Throw them in the slammer."

That's it. Goodbye knuckles. Always the perceptive, Kayden grabbed your upper arm, right below the Algax's clean-cut, and pulled you back to his side even before you made the first step towards the bastard. Always there to keep you alive for another day. What a nice friend.

"Hands behind your head." Rhian barked as he approached you and Kayden from behind.

Doing as you were told, you noticed the troopers hesitating before doing as ordered when you nodded at them. Tech lifted his good hand, the other keeping hold of Crosshair's cage. One of the archers went to seize it, but a sudden shoulder to the sternum kept him away.

He's not just a nerd. You smirked as the archer stumbled.

"Let them keep it." Rhian waved off the fuming archer who definitely wanted to go back and win his fight. Too bad. "Walk ahead. You know the way." Rhian nodded towards the door after getting a hold of Kayden's bow and quiver, his very own bow aimed at the floor. The string was stretched just enough to cause serious damage if he needed to defend himself quickly, but he seemed to know that it wasn't needed.

Kayden led the way with you in tow, Elijah and Pete moved away from the door to let you pass at a safe distance. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Rhian breaking formation to move up to Arlan, who surely waved him over.

You sighed as you remembered that he didn't even tell you why he wanted you here.

The clone's boots resonated against the rock floor at each of their steps, close enough to appease your mind.

"Do you know a way out of here?" Hunter's voice emanated softly within your ear.

You moved your shoulder blades in a circular motion as if you were stretching the muscles and nodded your head at the same time as to not look too suspicious to the archers escorting the group. Good thing that they didn't notice your earpiece yet.

Wrecker must have been the one right behind you because he relayed the message to Hunter through the private line.

"Now?" You rotated your head from side to side like when you needed to crack your neck.

"No." Came Wrecker's whisper.

"In the slammer?" A small nod.

"Yeah."

"Then we wait and we get out as soon as possible." Hunter told his half-plan to the Batch who hummed their approvals.

Once again the unusual parade that you formed along with the armored men attracted many curious eyes. Ignoring them was easier this time around, the familiarity of their chary gazes finally coming back to allow you to concentrate on something else.

This part of the village was carved so deeply into the mountain that even the occasional howls coming from the jungle couldn't be heard. There couldn't have been better protection for a population of more than 700 people than a natural barrier of rock. Sure, this very convenient refuge could easily become a tomb for a lot of villagers in the event of a breach, but several emergency tunnels were created for this very situation. They were maintained at a perfect condition in case a repeat of Frabas' catastrophe ever came to happen.

Every Alryan learned the location of every single tunnel at the youngest of age. They were only to be used in emergency cases and right now, it was an emergency. It all depended on the perspective.

"It never changed." You stated quietly as the slammer's entrance came into view, the dark purple glow emanating from its depths was a stark contrast to the lively colors of the main area.

Goosebumps rose on your arms as you followed Kayden down the tunnel. The nearby natural well raised the humidity in these parts of the mountain and thus caused the air to become colder. Just my luck, you thought as the fresh air infiltrated your clothes by the multiple tears in their fabric.

"In there." Rhian speed-walked to catch up with Kayden and direct him to a cell carved into the wall on his left.

You were locked up with him, Wrecker and Hunter got situated in the cell facing yours, Crosshair and Tech on the one right beside theirs.

Right as Tech got in after a growling Crosshair, Rhian took hold of the cage and kicked Tech inside who landed in a yelp. You weren't even gripping the bars yet that the heavy door closed behind the engineer.

"Give him back!"

"Sorry 'bout that." He threw the cage in the air twice, the flame within shaking frantically as it hit the bars. "Orders are orders." He ignored the yells of his name bouncing in the detention center and walked out unbothered, his men in tow.

"How quick can you get us out of here?" The urgency in Hunter's tone only added to your own raiding anxiety. What would Arlan do to Crosshair? He was totally defenseless.

"Couple of minutes. But we'll need Back-Up. I hope you have it." You turned to Kayden who scoffed in mocked offense.

"You have back-up?" Tech wondered out loud, tilting his head. "I thought no one would help you here."

"Jeez. Thanks for the vote of confidence." Kayden held his heart before reaching for his chest pocket. "Back-up is my Godot." He pulled a hand-sized lizard from his pocket to show the Batch.

The Godot's orange scales shone softly at Kayden's contact, their light reflecting onto the soft line of baby blue leaves growing on each side of its spine. Its three-fingered paws grabbed fingers and clothes to remain in place while two black eyes moved independently from one another to take in what was happening around. Its long tail wrapped around Kayden's wrist as he lifted it up to show off, the small leaves at its end shining brightly in surprise.

Wrecker gasped and lifted his helmet to get a better view of the animal. "That's what I saw the first time, Tech! It's the lizard that disappeared!"

"Nothing disappeared Wrecker. There was nothing there." Tech rebuked.

"Don’t be so sure about that! They can camouflage themselves, right Back-Up?" At the half-baked order, the tiny lizard shut off its light and changed its skin pigmentation to copy its environment to perfection.

"It disappeared Tech! See? That's what I saw and you didn't believe me!" Wrecker's tone raised as he pointed to Kayden's seemingly empty outstretched hand.

"Wrecke-" You tried to warn him to keep his voice down but heard steps coming your way.

"Back-up, go get the master key at home." Kayden hurriedly whispered to the Godot and quickly kneeled to allow it access to the ground so it could wander away and get the required object.

A guard appeared at the end of the corridor just as Kayden got up and threw himself onto the upper hammock fixed to the walls. He moved around to get comfortable and into the right position, hands under his head.

"So, I've heard that Stockholm syndrome was hard on you." Brett, a particularly annoying scout, mocked from behind his beard.

"Nope. Still don't like y'all." You replied nonchalantly despite the urge to punch him through the bars.

"I was talking about them." He pointed to the two cells containing the clones and you lifted a single eyebrow.

"Tech, definition of Stockholm syndrome please." You asked, maintaining eye contact during the whole process.

"Stockholm syndrome," You saw the genius perked up at your request. Sadly, he didn't lift a finger in the air while he recited the meaning of the word. "Is a psychological response wherein a captive begins to identify closely with his or her captors, as well as with their agenda and demands." He ended with a nod and the movement satisfied you enough to let the lack of a finger go.

"That means you dumbass." You spat as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I'm with them willingly."

"Get fucked!" Kayden shouted with a laugh that got half a smile out of you.

"You? Our captive? It sure felt like the other way around." He finally switched to basic and the hate coating his words told you that he wasn't talking about the pranks and snarky attitude, no, he was talking about something bigger than that.

"What are you talking about?" Maybe you could get more answers out of him than you did with Arlan.

He scoffed. "Stop trying to play the idiot. Between the two of you, Kayden's the best at it."

You ignored said idiot's thanks to press the matter. "Okay and let's imagine I really don't know what the hell you're talking about. What in the damn world did I do?" You remembered Arlan's word and almost added what is wrong with me? but Brett was already dropping the three medicine canisters to the ground, out of reach from either your cell or the clones' and went away.

"You live."

You sat on the ground, drained of every ounce of energy you once had. What was wrong with you? Why did everyone want you dead? The fear you felt at Arlan's words came back as you thought about what it could all mean. The Nightmares who stopped appearing when you left and came back when you did. Whatever the Core was that supposedly resided in you and the fact that the Lumsin knew what it was while you didn't. That the villagers never saw you as an annoying brat but a vile oppressor.

You faintly heard Kayden talking with Tech about Back-up, but couldn't make out the exact words, your own thoughts being way too loud for you to clearly hear anything outside your head.

"It's alright. Don't worry about it." An arm fell on your shoulders and pulled you into Kayden's side who now sat next to you on the ground, successfully pulling you out of your own mind. Yet, as comforting as his gesture was supposed to be, you only felt guiltier. Even when everyone else pointed their fingers at you, he was still there to keep yourself up even after you'd vanished on him.

Kayden scratched the clothes over his heart again and cut off your incoming guilty declaration.

"Question. If the half-skull one was to break my jaw or somethin' and that you didn't see it happen, would you believe me if I told you it was him?" Kayden asked, frowning too deeply for you to brush the question off as one of his stupid ones.

"Wha-?" Then it dawned on you. "Did you threaten him?" You asked Hunter, voice raising in octaves.

You knew Kayden probably deserved it, but he was your best friend. You've been helping each other for more than 15 years and there was no way you'd let him get beaten for a stupid jealousy tantrum.

An invisible hand squeezed your heart as you felt Kayden relaxing against your side. He doubted that you'd listen to him. More importantly, he doubted that you'd trust his word over someone else's. Sure it was Hunter's word, but you knew the Sergeant was not in his right mind and not only because of the irrational feeling.

"He wouldn't stop talking." The unbothered tone in which he answered shocked you.

"Yet you've never threatened Tech."

"That's not the same." Why must he sound like he truly believed that he did nothing wrong?

"You may not value his life and health, but I do. A lot." You emphasized the last word so he got the message. "And his word is the only single one in the galaxy that I never ever doubted."

Kayden's breath sharply filled his lungs and Hunter's fingers curled into fists. You still deeply loved the dark-haired Sergeant and seeing him frustrated at your words made a real number on your insides but that rational part of your brain told you that he would tire of you someday and would leave, whereas Kayden had shown countless of times that he'd be there to hold your hand, push your back and pull you up whenever needed.

"Good to know."

Why did his acknowledgment of your words make you sick? You'd said those words yourself and they were true, so how could they hurt that much? If it wasn't of the half-circles traced on the back of your right hand, you certainly would have had a physical reaction. It could have been hiding in your hammock or tears leaking from your eyes, you didn't know.

"You don't trust us?" Wrecker's hurt translated in his low, nearly inaudible tone if it wasn't of the earbud deeply pushed into your ear canal.

"I do Wrecker. I really do. It's me that I don't." Damn. For someone who wanted to avoid feelings-talks like the plague, you found yourself right in the middle of the deepest one ever.

"I don't understand." He admitted.

"I-" You sighed, trying to find the words that would explain something you didn't know how to explain. "I don't myself Wrecker. I make people despise me and-" The words escaped you. Out of exasperation, your free hand moved up to rub your closed eyelids and drag the pads of your fingers down your cheeks.

"When they don't you persuade yourself they do and you tell yourself that they'll give you up so you start to doubt them even when there's nothing to worry about." Kayden shrugged at your wide eyes looking at him. "Don't be surprised I know you better than yourself. You did the same shit with me but I didn't let you."

"Then why did you doubt yourself against Hunter?"

" 'cuz you love him." He answered in your native tongue and you were grateful for it. You weren't ready to say the words out loud and if Kayden, the person who just demonstrated that he knew you like the palm of his hand, said those words himself, then he'd throw your feelings out in the open and you couldn't have that. Not when your brain still expected the Bad Batch to get back to their ship and leave you on Fors, where you belonged.

"You were there longer."

"Yeah, but that was because you couldn't escape me. Give them their chance. You might be surprised." He patted your shoulder like an old man who gave advice to a youngster.

"We wouldn't give you up. You're our friend!" Wrecker added once the conversation in a foreign language died.

"If you still doubt our friendship, then you might want to remember that we passed hundreds of hours training you to be our pilot and that we lied to our superiors to keep you." Tech pointed out, this time with the finger in the air. It brought the tiniest of smiles to your lips.

"Or remember the moments shared." Hunter surprised you with his quiet words that Kayden definitely couldn't hear without a comm device. Had he realized that he was fighting a non-existent enemy? Or did he feel as bad as you following your exchange?

"Or you can remember that you're a freak." Tech slapped his lean brother's shoulder

"So I belong with you guys? Yeah, I'll- I'll do my best to remember all that." A chuckle escaped your lips. "Thanks." You added under your breath, to which the boys nodded and Wrecker smiled brightly.

"Is your chest okay?" Tech asked and pointed at Kayden who was still scratching his torso.

"Yeah, 's just itchy. I think Kerth put some poison Ivy in my clothes. I wouldn't be surprised." He pulled his shirt forward to look at his skin. He winced. "That does look like it."

"You never get tired of looking at yourself?" A soft feminine voice chuckled from down the hallway.

Soft brown eyes shone behind fiery red locks, their owner walking straight to your cell where she stopped to pass you a hot container. You'd recognize that smell everywhere and apparently so did your stomach who growled loudly in anticipation of receiving some soup.

"Good timing, I see." She chuckled, put her pack on the ground and offered you a container. "It's not poisoned, I promise. I did it myself." She assured in basic when you kept watching her hands without making any move towards the food.

Still unmoving, Kayden took it upon himself to grab two containers and let the redhead give the clones their servings.

"They wanted me to only feed the soldiers but I slipped some for you two as well. For all the spare crusts." She nodded at you, who kept watching her in silence. Before turning around to go back to where she came from, the woman had the kindness to grab the discarded medicine canisters and offer them to Kayden. "Take care."

Wait. You had to tell her. It was like your brain forgot how everything worked. Opening your mouth wasn't hard compared to finding what to say. Even then your throat constricted in an attempt to shut you up, but you couldn't let her go without telling her.

She deserved to know.

"Fleena." Was all you managed and it was enough to stop her in her tracks. When she turned, your hand was already fishing around in your pocket for the small piece of wood.

She came back as you brought your closed fist forward and dropped the dirty necklace on her open hand.

She stared at it, surprise taking over her soft features in a flash as soon as she recognized the symbol. She turned it to inspect the back and now was the right time for the earth to open beneath your ass and take you away.

"Where did you get that?" The tremors in her voice send a knife through your heart.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you made sure to choose your words better than with Hunter. "Nixon was a Wanderer."

"He-" She started with hope until she registered your sentence. "Was?"

There it was. The moment to own what you did finally arrived.

"What did you do?" She pressed as you kept silent, unable to say it out loud.

"It wasn't him anymore, Fleena. He hadn't grown up and kept walking in circles on his bleeding feet. He was tormented."

You freed him. You helped him. Now that her horrified hazel eyes bore into yours, Crosshair's words that were so helpful before held no sense.

"He was still my brother." She clutched the necklace to her chest, tears running down her cheeks.

"Nixon was gone."

"I don't expect you to understand. You don't know anything about having a sibling."

The silence following her retreating steps was even heavier than before. No. That wasn't true. The boys spoke in the background and in your ear, prompting you to remove the device to have some peace.

"You're right, I don't." You grumbled in your knees that were now up to your face to hide your features, your arms tightly wrapped around them to keep them close.

"That's the biggest bullshit that ever came out of your mouth." Kayden scoffed next to you. "What do you think I am then? Your friend?" He puffed like it was the stupidest joke he'd ever been told. "Fuck no. We've been family ever since your dad died so cut the crap or I'll hit you."

I should be punching you for saying such stupid stuff.

"For real. I'll hit you so hard you won't ignore me again." He shuffled around to better position himself, arm lifting-

"I've abandoned you." You spat more at you than at him.

"Siblings sucks but we love them anyway." He shrugged. "You're no exception."

Tears gathered in your eyes. Even after leaving him alone to fight for himself, Kayden still loved you as much as before and never once held a grudge against your actions. He was a true god-given gift and you'd treated him unfairly.

Pain exploded into your shoulder and you found yourself colliding with the ground.

"The fuck?" Four spots on your shoulder hurt so deeply that it didn't take long for you to realize that he'd hit you with his knuckles.

"My monthly quota was not yet achieved." He smirked, watching you massage the beaten skin.

"Don't you think I'm hurt enough already?"

"Stop whining, we have Biogel." He shook the metallic container before your face.

"That thing hurts like hell." You groaned, pushing his hand away to sit straight.

"When did you become such a baby?" You shot him the deadliest glare you had in reserve. "Hey. It's a very small price to pay for completely healed wounds in under 30 minutes."

"Completely healed?" Tech inquired, eying the matching container in his hands that Kayden pushed him.

"Yeah! One good layer and bye-bye! Works for sprained stuff too, just takes a little longer." Kayden answered as he helped you apply the cold sticky gel onto your arms. "Little tips: let someone else put it on you." He added as you hissed and groaned under the burning feeling that came with the product.

Your hands closed and opened repeatedly to keep from hitting Kayden in retaliation for the pain he was putting you through. The raging fire led to intense stinging that you could describe as white-hot needles poking your damaged skin.

"Please remember that you love me." Kayden said right before he dropped a huge blob of Biogel onto the hole in your leg. Had he not jumped away, your elbow would have connected with his chest at high speed. Instead, all that got injured were your nerves, your vocal cords and Hunter's head.

"I'll murder you if you do that again." You whimpered while clutching your upper thigh in hope of cutting every pain transmission from your leg to your brain.

"Good thing it was the last one!" He laughed from his side of the cell, Biogel discarded to the profit of the warm bowl of soup which he was already drinking like he'd been starved for a week.

Wrecker's gasp and groans filled the air. A quick glance his way showed Hunter applying a coat of the translucent substance on his burnt hands and neck as well as on the cuts on his arms. Then came Hunter's turn who covered some scratches from the Yappians and after some thought applied some of it on the side of his forehead. No sound escaped his throat, the only proof of the pain assaulting his nerves being the scrunching of his face, unlike Tech who yelped when Crosshair carelessly applied the gel on his wrist and arms. Then, like pain didn't affect him at all, he splattered some on his swollen ankle and it was done.

"I'm sure no one really wants to eat right now, but it'd be good to eat the food until Back-up comes back and we have to leave." Kayden reminded.

"What's that?" Crosshair asked, more worried about the soup than Wrecker was. The tank was already slurping the soup down, mindful of his sensible fingers.

"In basic I guess it translates as bone soup." Wrecker stopped abruptly, mouth still scotched to the bowl. He eyed you in distress, pondering if it was safe to swallow or not. "It's good, despite the name. Hunters usually eat that before a hunt to boost their systems, right Y/N?" Just for the sake of the game, you nodded. It was true anyway.

"And eh… what's in it?" Tech moved the container in small circles to try and identify what was floating in the light yellow liquid.

"Roots, meats, some veggies, guts and ground bones." You kept your poker face as Kayden enumerated the 'ingredients' and Wrecker lost all colors. "Where do you think the name comes from?"

Wrecker spat his enormous gulp and you laughed to the point of tears, soon joined by your best frie- brother.

"He's just fucking with y'all, Wreck. It's called bone soup because there's bone marrow in it to help with our joints. And there’s no guts. We're no savages." You did your best to control your laugh before digging into your soup eagerly. How Kayden always managed to get your mood up was a total mystery, but it always worked and you were grateful for it.

"Could've fooled me." Crosshair taunted.

"Ya can choke on it." You said at the same time Kayden did, getting a laugh out of it.

The delicious soup filled your stomach in less than 10 gulps and it wasn't until you put your bowl down that you realized how good it made you feel to fill that emptiness in you. The soup wasn't enough to make you sleepy after a nice meal and provided just enough nutrients for everyone to be able to face the fast-approaching escape without a problem. Mixed with the Biogel, you were back at the top of your games.

Arlan really made an error in taking care of the group.

"What now? What's your plan?" Hunter wondered, posing his container on the ground.

You met gaze with Kayden and he nodded confidently. "How well can you all swim in your armors?"

"In calm water, we are fine but slow. We can't go in strong water. The current will catch in the plastoid and will drag us down."

A hum resonated from within your throat and you pucker your lips. "You can't give them up. That scratch out the underground well and the waterfall." You taped your lips in thought. Watching Tech who still drank with only one hand, you knew that hiking wasn't an option as well. For now at least.

"Then it's the dark pit." Kayden pointed out.

It indeed was the last possible option. The other remaining one would be to use the front gates and it was the least possible one.

"Yeah. The other tunnels would take too long to get out and then we'd lose too much time walking back at the Old Man's cave." You recalled from your mental map of the jungle. "I'm fairly sure we have two hours until dawn. The Old Man's Cave is 15 minutes away from here if we run."

"Then we run." Hunter agreed.

"Now, to get out… Hey, big guy." Kayden called. "What's the name?"

"Wrecker." He answered proudly, almost puffing his chest out.

Kayden scoffed. "Obviously. Should'a figured." He turned to you. "Is it too late to change my name?"

The moron was too far for a shoulder slap, so you showed your exasperation with a roll of your eyes. "Stop screwing around and tell us your idea."

"Yeah yeah." The childish tone wasn't surprising on his part. He turned his attention back to the tall clone. "So, Wrecker, I bet you're experienced with big shafts so how good are you with pulse-hammers?" In a flash, you threw your empty container at his head with utmost precision that you knew Crosshair would be proud. The flying object was as unexpected for him as the inappropriate sentence was for you and hit him square on the forehead.

"I'll strangle you." You threatened.

"Kinky." He winked while nursing his forehead.

"With what?" Wrecker inquired, too focussed on the unknown term to pick up at the dirty joke.

"Her han-"

"Not that, morron." You cut him off. "The big hammer that exploded that tree back at the pit." You clarified for Wrecker.

"Oh! I've never used one before, but I'm sure it can't be that hard!" Excitement glimmered in his eyes at the perspective of using the powerful weapon.

"Oh believe me it's hard." Kayden smirked way too smugly for your taste.

"Okay. Time out. Planning is paused." You poked the palm of your hand with the fingertips of your other hand. "I call pervert veto card." You deadpanned.

"Oh hell no you can't!" Was there panic in his voice? Yes. Definitely.

"Oh heck yes I can! Once a year for 24 hours and I'm using it now." Thank the gods you'd not used it before.

"But-!"

"No but or butts. No sexual reference in any form, implied or not. 24 hours starting now." He glared at you from his spot two meters away. You could have laughed at his face that perfectly mirrored a kid who just got his Christmas gift stolen directly from its small weak hands.

"You're fucking me in the ass." He grumbled like an overgrown petulant child.

You lifted an eyebrow. "Try again. You can do it."

"Party pooper."

"There you go." As you turned to the rest of them, a laugh escaped your lips at the clones’ expressions.

Crosshair, despite his feelings blockade, was covering his mouth, Wrecker was laughing his ass off, Tech looked relieved behind his horrified eyes and Hunter chuckled. He appeared to be pleased and somewhat totally used to the situation, which grabbed your curiosity.

Later. You forced a cough to get everyone's attention. "Let's continue. To answer your question, Wrecker, handling a pulse-hammer is not hard. Only remember to not touch the head," You had to stop to point at Kayden in a threatening manner when you sensed a perverted comment about to escape his idiotic mouth despite the veto card being used. "And hit with the glowing side. If you hit with the other side, you'll damage the hammer and it'll be useless."

"I can do that!" Wrecker enthusiastically nodded.

"So we plan into exploding our way out of here? What do we do about Cross?" Tech pointed out what he thought was a flaw in your plan.

Right at this moment, Back-Up appeared before Kayden, its fluffy leaves puffing out in pride as Kayden removed the Master key from its belly pouch. What a marvelous creature they were. Being able to fit your own size in an extensible pouch that covered your body from your collarbone to your pelvis was truly amazing and more than practical.

"We'll split. Kayden will guide you guys to the emergency tunnel and I'll go get Cross. I'll meet you all as soon as I can."

You nearly hadn't finished that Hunter inevitably rejected your plan. "No. We stay together."

"We can't. You guys will be the decoy I need to sneak around and find him and having one of you with me will catch attention and slow me down." You cut Hunter as he still looked like he was about to be opposed. "I still have my comms and earbud. I'll contact you every 5 minutes." You offered in an attempt to compromise.

Silence stretched and you got up, already ready to depart. The tingling in your arms and leg had subsided some time ago and to your sweet surprise, applying weight on your leg didn't hurt as much as before.

Kayden unlocked the cells and a hand softly grabbed your forearm. "Fine. You comm every 5 minutes and you take this." He moved to Tech to rummage through his belt and hand you a pistol. "Use it if needed."

You took the pistol with a steady grip despite the uncertainty shaking your guts. It was the very first blaster you've ever had in your hand and it was heavier than you thought. "Don't worry. I will." You assured him, voice strong and unwavering.

But… could you really?

#bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #crosshair x reader #tcw #star wars #clone force 99 #sergeant hunter #clone trooper tech #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper crosshair #Good Night Good Luck

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amatchinwater · 3 years

Text

Did a little thing for Day 2 of Stackson Week 2021!

Day 2: Trapped together

Pairing: Stackson

Warnings: underage drinking

Word count: 2709

Rating: teen and up

Ao3 link

Stiles knew it was a bad idea to have a party at Lydia’s lake house in the middle of hurricane lever rain and a goddamn flood warning. What’s even worse is he’s the first person to show up! Lydia herself isn’t even here yet. The banshee was kind enough to tell him where they put the hide-a-key so he could get in and out of the storm. Scott and Isaac aren’t picking up or answering his texts. If they’re not here because they’re too busy fucking and Stiles has to be here soaked and alone, he’s going to kill them.

When Stiles gets in the house, he stomps his shoes on the mat to not track in any mud. Lyds would castrate him for that, so he takes them off just to be safe. Slipping out of his jacket, Stiles hangs it on the hook, careful not to let it drip anywhere other than the little rug underneath it. The house is empty and eerily dark. Then again, why wouldn’t it be? He’s the only fucking one here. Making his way into the kitchen, Stiles’ preturbrance only grows.

It doesn’t even look like the place is meant to house a party in the next twenty minutes. Nothing is set up. There isn't a single bag of chips or other snacks on the counter. No pizzas and sandwich platters like her birthday. A keg is not beside the island either. Just two bottles of wine with a sticky note that reads-

“Have fun?”

Oh my god! Stiles jumps and flails, nearly knocking the bottles over on the counter.

“What kind of fucking game is she playing?” Jackson snatches the note, rereading it before flicking it back towards the island.

Still clutching his wildly beating heart, Stiles gasps, “could you maybe announce yourself next time?” He collects himself- mostly. “Not all of us have your little wolf senses. You almost gave me a heart attack, you fuck.”

Jackson snorts and almost playfully bumps him with his shoulder. “Not my fault you left the front door unlocked, Stilinski.”

Fuck this. “I’m leaving.” Stiles stalks back towards the front door, yanking his jacket off the hook and grabbing his shoes. Whipping the open the door, the teen groans loudly, dropping his head back, “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What are you bitching about now?” The wolf steps beside him and looks outside, his eyes widen drastically. “Holy shit!”

The lake has officially overflown since they’ve shown up and the driveway is at least three inches deep with water. Jackson’s care looks like it’s barely capable of surviving if it gets too high. Stiles almost cares enough to wonder if they should move it. This fucking storm! Now he’s stuck here with nowhere to go. Yes, he has a jeep, but the road out is no doubt a muddy mess that even Roscoe can’t navigate.

Closing the door and putting his clothes back where they were, Stiles whines, “why would she pick today to do this?” Thinking about the weather his dad forced him to watch this morning. Most cities were calling in downed power lines and massive branches flying through the streets.

She knew this storm was coming. So much so that Lydia even reminded him to wear his boots rather than his sneakers. “I guess I better call Scott, tell him not to come. No use in him getting stuck in the woods like this.” Sures, having his best friend here would make this exceptionally better. But Stiles doesn’t want to break up any fights between a stir crazy Jackson and Isaac. Fishing in his pocket, Stiles pulls out his phone and smashes the call button in annoyance.

“Stiles, hey. I’m sorry I did-” Scott answers on the second ring only to be cut off by Stiles.

“I don’t care if you and Isaac were fucking,” Jackson chuckles at his jab. “Don’t come to Lydia’s. The lake flooded and now Jackson and I can’t leave.”

“Okay,” Scott draws out the word and if Stiles wasn’t mistaken sounds a little confused. Jackson’s brows knit together at the response too. Okay, so it did sound weird then. “I’m sorry you’re stuck there, dude. But maybe this will be a good thing?”

Is he serious? “How the fuck is it supposed to be a good thing to be stuck in a goddamn house with someone who hates my guts?” Stiles’ hand slaps his thigh in exasperation. Not to mention the asshole in question was hotter than hell fire and makes it incredibly hard to be in the same room with him. Not thinking about that when Jackson can smell his chemosignals.

“Well,” Scott drawls, “you did say you had a crush on him.” Stiles blanches and goes stalk still, forgetting how to fucking breathe. Jackson snorts beside him. Stiles is going to kill Scott. “Oh my god! He’s right next to you, isn’t he?”

“I hate you so much right now.” Stiles makes a point to stare at the floor and not at the shuffling wolf beside him. “Well, thanks for getting me killed. Great best friend job, truly. See ya probably never, Scotty.” He promptly hangs up before Scott can answer.

“So,” Jackson purrs and Stiles can’t help but turn and face the wolf. His arms are crossed from where he leans against the wall, one foot propped behind him. Jackson’s face holds that stupid, sexy, douchbag smirk, “you like me?”

He’s not even going to entertain that. Stiles squints at him with his mouth slightly parted. It only makes Jackson chuckle. “I need a drink,” Stiles uses every ounce of self control not to literally run away and back into the kitchen. Sifting through the drawers until he finds the corkscrew, Stiles grabs a bottle. Once the cork is out- that actually had already been opened- Stiles could give fuck all about a glass. He takes a sip directly from the bottle, regretting it at the extensive bitter taste of wolfsbane.

Clearly that one’s for Jackson. He’s courteous enough to slide the wine across the island when Jackson is back in the room. The wolf stares at him as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece and drinks from it, not giving a damn to wipe it after Stiles’ drank first. The other boy just watches before his brain recovers and he opens his own bottle. Setting the cork and opener aside, Stiles grabs the wine and leaves the wolf in the kitchen to go sit in the living room where Lydia keeps the playstation.

Plopping on the couch, Stiles lets himself sink into the cushion and takes several swigs. Actually rather enjoying the slight burn and the warmth that quickly settles in his belly. He can very easily just sit here and watch tv like Jackson doesn’t even exist. Stiles can go to literally anywhere else to be away from the wolf if need be. He cannot believe that Jackson found out he likes him.

Fucking Scott.

It takes a few minutes for Jackson to join him. Stiles already has Supernatural playing and has killed a good third of his wine before the wolf is sitting next to him. Like right next to him. One nervous leg bounce and their thighs or knees will touch. Seriously? Lydia has two couches, a chaise lounge, and two armchairs in her living room. So why is he so close?

Scratch that initial thought. There’s like six other rooms in this big ass house that Jackson could’ve gone to. Why here? Stiles drinks more.

Jackson takes another small sip, looking like he’s barely drank anything from his own bottle before saying, “I have a secret to tell you.”

He fights the eyeroll only just, “what information could you possibly have that I would care about?” Amber eyes stay glued to the flat screen.

“I don’t hate you, Stiles.”

“Oh?” He asks with mock interest. Even though there’s something tickling at his heart that Jackson didn’t call him ‘idiot’ or ‘Stilinski’. He can’t allow himself to fall for the wolf’s tricks. He won’t let the rug get yanked out from under him.

“Quite the opposite actually.”

Stiles snorts and turns to make some smart ass retort. But his ‘yeah right’ gets stuck on his tongue finding Jackson’s face mere inches from his own. He gulps. Clearing his throat, Stiles takes a big sip before putting his bottle on the small table beside him. Too fuzzy and warm to process this, Stiles scooches until he’s pressing against the armrest.

Jackson also places his bottle on the coffee table before sliding closer. Forcing Stiles to half turn into the couch while the wolf puts an arm on either side of him, completely encasing Stiles. “I like you,” he presses further, “a lot.” Jackson leans in until their noses brush, “tell me if you want me to stop.”

Blame the wine. Blame his hormones for not wanting him to stop. Hell, blame everyone and everything, Stiles included. But he does have a massive crush on Jackson. Even though he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. The guy’s a prick. He has no problem letting people know that he’s better than them. Making damn sure to flaunt his money too. As if that makes him hotter or something. It doesn’t.

No, it’s the icy blue eyes that make Stiles want to learn their secrets and harvest the knowledge. The wolf’s stupid jaw that’s perfect and Stiles just wants to bite it. He;s seen Jackson naked numerous times- thank you locker room shower’s forgotten concept of privacy. But god damn, when Jackson smiles- not his asshole smirk, but genuine smile- Stiles’ lungs and knees forget how to function. Despite his actions earlier, the teen is actually pretty happy to be stuck here.

Only acting as though he hates Jackson because he was simply following the wolf’s lead. His eyes flick to Jackson’s bottle of wine- its contents too hard to see in the dark green glass from this distance- and back to hooded baby blues. There’s only two reasons Stiles can believe that this is actually happening right now.

Jackson’s drunk. Because Stiles doesn’t understand the extent in which wolfsbane affects werewolf's tolerance. Which would mean the ex-kanima has no idea what he’s doing and should go sleep it off. Stiles hopes it’s this because the latter is just too painful.

Jackson’s fucking with him. Surely he doesn’t have actual feelings for Stiles. Maybe the wolf found out he’s bi and wanted to tease him about it. Although, something tells him that Danny would murder Jackson if he ever found out. Still. This is Stiles. Lowest on the lacrosse totem pole and not the wolf’s best friend. Is Jackson that cruel though?

Beautiful, parted pink lips get closer, so Stiles whispers, “you’re just drunk,” and turns his head away, hoping that’s the case here. Waiting for the joke to play out.

“I’m really not.” Jackson reaches over to grab his drink. There’s maybe three sips missing when he dangles the bottle for proof. “See?” The wolf puts it back, returning with a smirk and a cocked brow, “now will you let me kiss you?” Jackson chuckles, it’s a breathy sound, but doesn’t make to move closer. Leaving it to Stiles.

He’s not falling for that trap. The prove-to-me-you-want-it-so-I-can-kick-you-down trap by making Stiles lean in. “So you’re fucking with me then?” He should’ve known better.

The other boy looks confused and a little offended. Jackson leans back farther, still sitting close, but no longer in Stiles’ personal space. He actually wants him to come back, but how could he ever tell the wolf that when this is just a game? “Why would I fuck with you about this?” Jackson’s voice is soft and full of so much emotion that Stiles almost believes him.

“Uh, because that’s what you do?” Stiles gestures wildly like it should have been obvious. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that we’re not even friends. You were literally my bully when we were kids. I don’t- and i-it only got worse when I developed a crush on Lydia. Which I get, she was your girlfr-”

“What’s not why I was a dick.” The wolf cuts him off with a shake of his head. Stiles squints an eye at him, mouth still hanging open from the word that didn’t finish. “I was jealous.”

“Why the fuck would you be jealous of me?” Stiles scoffs and Jackson ducks his head with a chuckle. “Lydia never even looked at me while you were together.”

Jackson flashes a bemused grin when he looks back, “I was jealous of Lydia, you idiot.” The name usually bitten out comes with a tone that suggests it’s meant to be a term of endearment.

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t fawning over you like your little fan club, okay? My bad. You’re right, you’re incredibly hot and I should’ve stroked your ego by putting you some fucking pedestal-” Jackson swallows whatever other words and the surprised squeak from Stiles’ lips. He stares bug eyed at the wolf’s closed eyes. Jackson presses closer, his hand cupping the other boy’s cheeks while his tongue slides against Stiles’ bottom lip. Entrance isn’t given, he can’t really, Stiles is too shocked to do so.

The wolf pulls away, still holding Stiles’ face, “I didn’t care that you thought she was attractive.” Jackson drops a hand and lifts his hips, pulling one of Stiles’ legs until the human gets the massage and- for some fucking reason- lays on the couch. The wolf’s hips immediately settle into the space created and Stiles can feel just how much Jackson wants this. Him. “I wanted to be the one you had a crush on because of the massive one I have on you.”

That’s a lot to process. If Jackson liked him then- “why did you make my life hell?”

Jackson’s free hand falls to Stiles’ hip, rubbing softly and the other props himself on the armrest behind Stiles’ head. “I didn’t know how to handle the fact that I suddenly like guys. Well, a guy.” The wolf sighs, “Lydia knew and agreed to keep my secret as long as I needed her to. I’m sorry I treated you like that.”

Stiles has never seen him act so soft. Having Derek as an Alpha and a proper back must really be working for Jackson. It makes him charming in a way that his jerk persona never could. Being emotionally balanced and all that.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. And I’ll know if you’re lying. So don’t do me any favors and don’t hide from me either.” The warning is evident. Don’t say it and not mean it. And don’t mean it but not day it. Otherwise he’ll walk. “Will you please, let me fucking kiss you?”

Stiles fists his fingers in the wolf’s shirt- half expecting Jackson to snap at wrinkling his expensive clothes- to push him away or pull him closer, the other boy really doesn’t know. Until his arm moves of its own volition and Jackson’s mouth gets drawn to him.

The wolf chuckles against his lips, “finally.” The hand on his hip grips tighter and the other comes back to his jaw. Jackson tilts his head up to deepen the kiss. Jackson kisses like he wants to swallow Stiles whole. Maybe he does. Maybe Stiles would let him. Panting he pulls away again, and the other teen bites back a whine. “I have one more question and then I promise I’ll shut up.”

The human playfully rolls his eyes, “what is it?”

“Be with me.” Jackson states. Stiles cocks his head to the side with a chuckle, that wasn’t really a question. But his heart skips a beat nonetheless at the implication of the wolf’s words. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Stiles is nodding before the request is completely out of Jackson’s beautiful face. “Fuck yeah, dude.” The wolf breathes out a laugh at the ridiculousness. “Now just kiss me. Please?”

“Whatever you want,” Jackson grins and presses his body in further, claiming Stiles’ lips as his own.

Stiles is now stupidly happy about this storm locking them in Lydia’s lake house. He got a boyfriend out if.

#stackson #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #stiles x jackson #teen wolf #ao3 fic #stacksonweek2021

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brilliantt · 4 years

Text

A Father’s Job

Summary: Tommy discovers that his daughter, Y/N, lied to him in order to meet a boy. He takes his role as a father too seriously and tries to protect Y/N, resulting in her getting mad at him.

Request by Anon: Tommy’s reaction to his daughter going on her first date maybe?

“Why does my daughter look like a girl?” It wasn’t often that Tommy Shelby saw his daughter not wearing her usual blouse tucked into oversized trousers. Her hatred of skirts started at a young age.

Growing up with Finn meant that the pair would spend their mornings racing around Small Heath playing tag and their afternoons climbing up trees.

Y/N had been quick to realise that the reason Finn was always the fastest to catch her and to climb to the top of the tree was because he wasn’t restricted by the stupid skirts. One day, after becoming fed up with Finn's mocking of her being too slow, she dragged him from the tree and forced them to swap clothes (how she managed to do it Tommy never knew). Now suitably dressed in Finn’s trousers she managed to climb the tree with ease while Finn stumbled up in her skirts grumpily. She had raced home that day, (punishing Finn for his previous taunting by leaving him to return home in her skirts) and begged her father to let her wear trousers like Finn.

“It’s Ada’s old one, fits me perfectly!” Tommy eyed the dress as Y/N smoothed over it, looking in the mirror above the fireplace. It was a deep maroon dress which thankfully was one of Ada’s more modest dresses, albeit a little short for his liking.

Tommy frowned at his daughter and his Aunt Polly, who was fussing with Y/N’s hair, “And where are you going dressed like Ada?” He almost missed her eyes widening and sending a nervous glance to Polly.

“It’s her friend's birthday party Thomas, we told you just a few weeks back.” Tommy’s eyebrows rose trying to recall this. He just shrugged at Polly’s disappointed tut, he had been away on business last week- of course he would have forgotten, “I’m taking her to Mary’s house and she’ll be back before it’s dark.”

Tommy sighed knowing there was no room to argue, “You got her a gift?” Y/N nodded and smiled, slipping into a fur lined coat. “Right, well have fun then. No getting drunk, you’re helping me with the horses in the morning.” He pointed his finger at his daughter who playfully rolled her eyes, hugged him goodbye and followed Polly out of the house.

It had been less than an hour after Y/N had left that Tommy received a phone call. “Tommy, there’s a Mr Peterson asking for you at the Garrison, says it’s urgent. You able to come by?” He had called for the housemaid to watch Charlie while he was gone and left for the pub. After dealing with Mr Peterson he was about to leave the Garrison to return home when he saw something, or someone, which piqued his interest.

At a table, close to the door, he found Mary sitting and drinking with a group of friends. He looked at the seats- all six of them filled and his daughter nowhere in sight. He walked over to the table, Mary detaching herself from the boy next to her once she saw her friend’s father striding over.

He nodded his head in greeting to the group “Evening Mary, how are you?” The girl became shy as always when Tommy was around but uttered through red cheeks, ”Hi, Mr Shelby, I’m alright thanks.” She fidgeted in her seat as Tommy continued to stare. He narrowed his eyes at her before wishing her a ‘happy birthday’. His eyes then danced over Mary’s eyebrows furrowing and the confused stares of the rest of the group. “It is today?” He asked.

“Um, it was actually last week, but thank you anyway!” She smiled nervously watching his eyes roll to the side as if in thought before returning on her figure.

“Harry,” He clicked his fingers at the barman, “Another round for the group, a belated birthday present from me.” He walked out of the pub, only just hearing the excited whispers and thanks coming from the table. The drive back to Arrow House was occupied with questions on the whereabouts of his daughter, who clearly was not at Mary’s house.

---

He tried to spend the next couple of hours distracting himself with work but after the clock passed eight thirty he had taken to watching the drive from his office window. It wasn’t too long after that, that a car came rolling up and parked. He watched as a smiling Y/N exited the vehicle, glanced up at the house and rushed round to the driver’s side. He saw her lean in through the window and give, what looked like to Tommy, a masculine figure a hug.

Tommy saw Y/N’s eyes widen in shock as he threw open the front door and sauntered down to the car, a hard look on his face. She jumped away from the driver, “Dad! This.. This is Mary’s brother, he was just giving me a lift home.”

Tommy watched the redness rise up his daughter’s neck, like it always did when she knew she was in trouble. He leaned in close to the girl and made sure she was looking into his eyes before saying, “Mary doesn’t have a brother, Y/N.” She winced and swore under her breath. Tommy pointed to the house, a clear signal for Y/N to go inside. She sent a worried look to the boy in the car, deciding it was best to listen to her father and not anger him further. Of course this didn’t stop her from peeking at them through the curtains of the living room. Although she couldn't hear them, she could very well feel Tommy’s threatening words from where she stood, her own annoyance growing at the sight of her father.

Tommy clenched his jaw as he stared at the young boy in the car. The boy lifted a hand out of the window for a handshake, which he then used to scratch his head after Tommy pointedly ignored it.

“Hi, Sir, I’m He-”

“What are your intentions with my daughter?” He spat, tone hard and angry.

“Well-”

Tommy didn’t really know what overcame him and made him feel so mad. Was it Y/N lying to him? The fact he had never seen her romantically linked to a boy before? Or the images of a pregnant Ada, who would always sneak around the brothers to see boys? He wasn’t sure which one it was but the ensemble rushed around his head as he tugged at the boy's collar, lifting him so their heads were level.

“You are not to see Y/N again.” Tommy sensed the protest coming. “If you even look her way, I’ll cut your eyes out and display them on the mantelpiece, do you understand?” He smirked when the boy gulped, waving sarcastically as the boy drove away.

----

He had just stepped into the living room when Y/N stomped up to him, “You had no right to do that! I can’t believ-”

“Go to your room, Y/N.” He left her standing to sit on one of the sofa’s, taking a cigarette out.

“What?” She glared at her father who began puffing smoke from the cigarette.

Tommy clenched his jaw and gave Y/N a hard stare. “I had some business at the Garrison tonight and guess who I saw? Mary.” He saw Y/N gulp. “She told me that her birthday was last week. Not only did you lie to me to meet up with a boy, you also got Polly to go along with your fucking scheme.”

His daughter stood at the doorway like a punished puppy. She rubbed her hand up and down her arms and muttered, “You didn’t have to threaten him like that.”

Tommy leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You are an impressionable girl with a successful and wealthy father, that boy does not love you.” He heard Y/N gasp and saw her frown “He’s using you for money and power. I won’t let that happen.”

“Using me?” She whispered under her breath. “Am I that repulsive,“ She snapped, “That you think a boy can’t like me?” His daughter had the same look as Polly when she’s angry and Tommy could clearly see it in this moment.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He sighed and fell back onto the sofa. He wiped a hand over his eyes.

“Henry is not using me.” Y/N said confidently, her arms crossed defiantly across her chest.

“Then tell me, what side of you does Henry like? Does he care when you are covered in mud and bruises or does he only like you when you’re pretty and dressed like that?” Y/N let her arms drop to her side, her cheeks red at the sneering tone of her father.

“If you took the time to know him instead of just threatening him, you could answer that yourself.” She shouted at her father, pointing an accusing finger. Tommy stood up in shock and anger at her attitude. She moved to the door, creating more distance between them as he walked over to her. “I didn’t dress up for Henry,” She tugged at the bottom of the dress self-consciously, trying to make it longer. “I did it for me.” She sighed, “I just wanted to feel pretty for once, like Ada.” Avoiding Tommy’s gaze she quickly left the room racing up the stairs. Tommy winced as he heard the door slam shut. Rubbing his forehead he muttered about teenage girls, shutting himself away in his office.

---

Tommy gently pushed open the door, stepping over the dress which had been carelessly chucked there. He stood there and stared at the bed, a big lump in the centre where his daughter was hidden under the covers.

“Y/N.” He coughed. The girl jumped at the sound of her father but remained silent. Tommy sighed and looked around the room, smirking when an idea came to his head- something he’d always do when she was younger.

“Hey Y/N there’s a spider in your room.” This time he heard a sharp intake of breath which motivated him further. Stretching out one of his hands, he rested it on the desk beside him. He tapped his fingers menacingly across the wood, moving his hand like a spider. He did this around the room until he reached the headboard of the bed. He tapped his fingers again and then waited for the attack.

“Don’t. Do. It.” Y/N warned under the covers. He grinned and all of a sudden his spider fingers danced over her stomach as he tickled her. He listened to the screams of his daughter and couldn’t help but laugh along when she couldn’t contain her giggles.

“STOP!” She gripped at Tommy’s hands, trying to regain her breath. Tommy listened to her this time and laid down on the bed next to her, both facing the ceiling.

“I’m mad at you.” She whispered.

“I know.” He replied, glancing at her. “I don’t like it when you lie to me. Don’t you trust me?” Y/N looked at him nervously and he nodded his head and brushed her hair behind her ear to let her know he wouldn’t get mad at what she had to say.

“When you act like that, no.” She fiddled her thumbs together. “I knew you’d get mad so I didn’t want to tell you.”

Tommy sighed, he titled Y/N’s head so she would look at him. “My job as a father has always been to protect you. I don’t want to see my girl get her heart broken by a fuckin’ boy.” He looked back up to the ceiling and felt his daughter's stare on him. They were in silence for a few moments until Y/N used her finger to tilt Tommy’s head down to look at her. “You’ve got to let me decide these things for myself now. Henry is really nice and I really liked him.” Y/N rolled her eyes when Tommy huffed. “Maybe he would have broken my heart but that’s okay. Your job isn’t to protect me and shelter me, not from boys at least, it’s to be there for me when I need you and not judge me.”

“When did you get so wise?” Tommy smiled and pulled her into a side hug.

“Polly says i get it from you.” He smirked but then narrowed his eyes when he saw Y/N’s teasing grin. “I don’t believe her.” Shrieks filled the air once more as Tommy viciously tickled his daughter.

That night Tommy had tucked his daughter into bed like he used to, like he does with Charlie now. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back to Y/N and winced while saying “I guess if you want to see that boy..friend of yours,” He sighed and scrunched up his nose, “Then you may do so.”

Y/N smiled sadly, “I don’t think he’ll want to see me again, your threats are pretty scary.”

Tommy stared at her for a few seconds and nodded. “Get some sleep, I’ll see you in the stables in the morning.”

---

Y/N yawned that morning as she walked into the stables wearing her usual trousers and one of Finn’s shirts she stole. While she loved being with the horses, she hated waking up early to be there. Once she reopened her eyes from her yawn, her mouth dropped again and she froze in shock. Standing before her was her father and Henry brushing down a horse… together. Her mouth stayed wide open until Tommy noticed her presence. He smirked at her before walking over and pushing her mouth shut, “You’ll be swallowing some flies if you’re not careful.”

He smirked once more as his daughter continued to be in a state of shock. He pinched her stomach which made her jolt back and pushed a pitchfork in her hands. “I decided that you two can clean up the shit together, a little punishment for lying to me yesterday.” He nudged Y/N forward. The pair decided under the stare of Tommy not to embrace but their red cheeks and mumbled greetings made Tommy roll his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips.

It was safe to say that perhaps Thomas should listen to his daughter more often because after spending the morning getting to know Henry and watching the two wrestle around in the mud together (whilst trying and failing to tackle Tommy to ground) that he realised his daughter was pretty good at making her own decisions. It was also here that when he saw Y/N give him a wide smile and a little Charlie running through the stables into his arms, he realised that being a father was possibly the most rewarding job there was.

A/N: My dad used to do that spider tickle with me, so this was very reminiscent for me! Thank you for sending in the request, if anyone wants to send me something to write feel free to message me! Thanks for reading :))

Taglist for all fics:

@stressedandbandobessed7771

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#tommy shelby x daughter!reader #peaky blinders imagine #daughter!shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby

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kaori-flowers · 4 years

Text

The end of Tommy. Idk if it's sad, im not good at writing sad I don't think but uhhhhh yeah I hope you enjoy? Idk. Sorry ;-;

♡

Wilbur watched from a distance as Tommy walked up the hill towards his tent. He dumped his bag of wood out near the small fire pit he made and groaned. His arms and legs were tired so he walked into his tent and flopped on his bed. A sharp object jabbed him in the side and made him sit up quickly as he hissed in pain. He pulled the object out from under him and looked at to find it was a book he'd never seen before. He sighed and opened it as he laid back on the bed, reading it in his head. He got through a few sentences before sitting up quickly, reading it more seriously now. After he finished the page he buried the book under his bed quickly. Then he left the tent and looked around slowly, scanning for Wilbur. Wilbur stood up on the hill in the distance and Tommy glanced at his necklace. He pulled it off and looked at the black and red coloring with the carved words in it. He growled and stomped down to the beach, stopping at the edge of the water. He threw it as hard as he could, hurting his arm, into the ocean.

"Tommy!"

Wilbur was finally able to get close to Tommy without being in immense pain. He hugged Tommy as soon as he was close enough, almost knocking him down. Tommy hugged him back, gripping his shirt tightly and almost crying.

"I thought you were mad at me! You just disappeared!"

"No, never. You're my little brother and I love you."

Tommy calmed himself down, managing to hold back his tears. He took a deep breath and sighed, relaxing a little. He let go of Wilbur and took another deep breath, letting it out slowly. Wilbur gently kissed Tommy's forehead and looked him all over, making sure he was okay. He was for the most part. Tommy sighed and relaxed, pushing Wilbur back a little.

"Okay, I have a plan. So go away."

"What? But i-"

"Trust me Wilbur. Go away. Please, I have a plan."

Wilbur hesitated, not wanting to be separated from Tommy for long again. He trusted his little brother though, and followed his instructions. Tommy took a deep breath and walked over to the small forest area by his tent. He smeared mud on his clothes, and ripped them open. Then he picked up sticks off the ground and scratched himself with them. Then he broke them and tossed them close by, before lying down on the forest floor. Wilbur watched from afar, worried, and wondering what he was doing. Tommy moved in a slightly weird position and closed his eyes, relaxing his body. Attempting to look unconsciously normal. He waited and waited. Tommy felt like each minute that passed was an hour. He dislikes laying there in that position and was almost ready to give up.

"If you're hiding from me to try and scare me it's not gonna work Tommy."

Dream's voice gave him home and he remained still, as the sound of gravel and leaves crunching got louder. Tommy purposely groaned loudly, and sat up which gained Dream's attention. Dream rushed over to Tommy and dropped his axe, looking him over as if he actually cared.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"I don't know, i fell out of the tree and- wait.... where's? Where's my necklace?"

Tommy looked around as if he was actually concerned on where it was. He stood up and fake stumbled a little, and looked around quicker. Dream grabbed Tommy's arm and held it tightly to prevent him from moving away.

"It's fine. It's okay, I'll just make you a new one."

Dream sighed, but wasn't actually bothered that he lost the necklace. It meant nothing to Dream, it was just something he made to keep Wilbur away from Tommy. He could simply make another that does the same affect to Wilbur. Dream doesn't care, the necklace is not even close to important to him.

"No it's not! First I lose tubbo, my best friend! Then I lose my compass that Wilbur made for me. Now he won't come near me and won't even talk to me. Now I lost your necklace that you made for me. All I do is lose things!"

Tommy let himself fall on his knees and he quickly pushed himself to cry. It wasn't hard for Tommy to make himself cry since he was full of sadness ever since he left. He was constantly on the brink of crying and even taught himself how to turn it on and off. Like a light switch. Dream didn't know that though and it was the first time the ever seen Tommy cry. It made him feel weird and uncomfortable, especially since he's never seen it before.

"Tommy, it's okay I promise. Come on we can look for it together. Where were you last at?"

Tommy stopped crying but his face and eyes were red from it. He wiped the tears off his face and stood up off the ground. Tommy looked around slowly before shrugging and making Dream sigh. Dream looked up at the trees, scanning the branches for anything shiny. Dream was sure they wouldn't find it, and just planned to make another one later. Tommy and Dream walked around the small forest together, checking the ground and trees.

"Here you can play with this while we look for it. Just don't hurt yourself with it."

Dream handed Tommy the netherite axe that he had worked so hard to get. Tommy smiled as he let tears slide down his cheeks and swung it around. Dream looked at him and mentally scoffed at the sight of him. Dream still seen Tommy as a child that didn't understand anything, and wasn't smart enough to figure things out. Which wasn't entirely wrong, but Tommy was gon a crush Dream now that he knew. His plan was already in motion and he wasn't gonna back down at any time. Wilbur followed along in the distance, curious about what was gonna happen.

"Let's check the Nether."

Before Dream could object Tommy was already jumping in the portal. Tommy waited for Dream on the other side and when he arrived he started walkimg again. Dream hesitated a little, knowing Tubbo was somewhere in here, but let him keep going. Wilbur waited a few minutes before going through the portal and looking around for them.

"So Tommy..... How have you been since I last seen you?"

"Alright. I gathered up enough fire wood to last me 3 days at least. Unless you burn it again.... along with my armour.... and my food...."

"Yeah....."

Dream awkwardly looked away from him for a few seconds but continued to follow him. Tommy rolled his eyes, knowing Dream couldn't see them right now. Tommy swung the axe around carelessly, making Dream tense. At any second Tommy could drop it into the lava below and it would be gone. Forever. Dream would have to take another 4 days to get or even make another one. Which was irritating because if he was busy making an axe then Tommy was unsupervised. Which meant anyone could visit Tommy when Dream wasn't around. Dream didn't want that. He didn't want Tommy to know anything besides what Dream told him.

"Hey Dream close your eyes and stop walking for a second. I have a surprise."

Dream stopped and hesitated a little but closed his eyes slowly. Tommy quickly took out his pickaxe and mined himself out of reach. He stood in the middle of the block that was floating out over the large lava pit. Wilbur tensed up and joined Dream's side, not caring about distance anymore.

"Okay open."

"Tommy what are you doing?!"

"Wilbur shut up. Deam if you make any movement towards me I'll jump."

Dream slid his foot back in place and he remained still as he watched Tommy intently. Tommy threw the pickaxe down in the lava and then Dream's axe. Dream's jaw clenched but he didnt move from the spot he was in. Tommy emptied his pockets of everything, throwing it into the lava. Across the sea of Lava Tubbo and Ranboo watched out on a small cliff. Halfway down under them was Fundy and Nikki, and above was Techno with Philza. None of them knew each other was in the nether, because they were all in 2s. They were collecting resources but stopped once they seen Tommy, glued on the situation in a large mix of emotions.

"Tommy don't do anything stupid." Dream scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"You. Lied to me."

"So what?!"

"You betrayed me! You-"

"Tubbo betrayed you!"

"BECAUSE YOU MADE HIM. He wasn't gonna exile me but YOU pushed for it. All of this is YOUR fault. All of your actions is what lead up to this Dream. This. Is on. YOU."

Tommy's words were filled with pure hatred as he spoke, glaring at Dream. It made Dream feel a little uncomfortable and even made him glance away a few times. Tommy's stare felt like daggers of fire to Dream, and he found it extremely uncomfortable.

"So what Tommy! I-"

"You hid all the invites. You lied saying Tubbo burned his compass. You don't let anyone visit me. You don't tell me ANYTHING about how the others are doing. You-"

"Tommy calm down, you're gonna get yourself hurt."

"Calm down? Pssh, yeah as if. As if you actually care Dream. You don't care about anyone. Not even your HUSBAND. You've spent more time with me than you have with him. How fucked up is that? He's your husband Dream, you're supposed to be WITH HIM."

"Tommy you are crossing the line!"

Dream took a step forward, towards him and Tommy stuck his foot out over the block. Dream growled but froze on the spot, not moving again. Tommy didn't put his foot back on the block though. Instead he balanced on one foot, making everyone hold their breath. Dream didn't want Tommy to kill himself though. He wanted Tommy to stay alive and suffer slowly. He wanted to see Tommy so broken he couldn't get out of bed, and that's when he'd kill him. In front of Tubbo so he would see what he did. But it wasn't Tubbo's fault, and Dream's plan wasn't going to happen.

"There was NO LINE. You kicked me out of my HOME, and made me lose my best friend. My BROTHER. All my family. I have no one left! I fucking hate you!"

Tommy's scream echoed through the nether, filling everyone's ears. Philza looked away, not wanting to see another son die. The first one was already hard enough, and he didn't want to see this one. Tubbo's chest hurt horribly and he felt like tears were going to burst out of his eyes any second. Nikki always seen Tommy as little brother as well so she was worried for his safety. Fundy was annoyed and upset because what Tommy said was the truth. Dream had been spending so much time with Tommy and not him. And they were married. Technoblade felt wrong, and bad that he didn't provide help to Tommy when he clearly could have. Instead he just laughed at him and left him with barley anything.

"Tommy... Did you really have anyone to begin with? Wilbur is dead. Your so called father and older brother MOVED ON. And your so called best friend? He moved on as well. He's president Tommy. You have no one because you are no one."

Dream didn't believe that Tommy would actually jump and kill himself. So he decided to say it out he seen it, hitting him hard as he was already down. Although Tommy had already made up his mind, and as much as he was scared he wasn't backing down. He had no where else to go and Dream was right for the most part. Tommy actually had no one except Wilbur now, and so why not join him?

"And who do you have? Punz? Sapnap? George? You're as much as a no one as I am."

Tommy scoffed, rolling his eyes at Dream. His cheeks glistened as his tears slid down them and dripped onto his clothes. Tommy took a deep breath to calm himself and then let it out slowly. He looked at Wilbur and sighed slowly, relaxing a little. He was ready. He was embracing his fate.

"Wilbur."

"Tommy."

"Take care of Tubbo for me."

"Wha-"

Tommy fell backwards, off the block as he closed eyes slowly. Dream's eyes widened at the fact that he actually did it. Tommy actually jumped. Well.... Technically Tommy just fell back off the block, accepting his fate. He put his arms out and kept his eyes closed enjoying the soft wind feeling. Which only lasted a few seconds.

"TOMMY NO!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"TOMMY!"

"NO TOMMY!"

"TOMMMMMMMMMMYYYYY!!"

The nether was quickly filled with screams as Tommy plummeted down towards the large lava ocean. There was absolutely nothing anyone could do for him. As soon as Tommy hit the lava ocean he was engulfed in flames, and dragged under as if he was a cinder block. Tommy felt a string of pain for a few seconds then he felt nothing. Tubbo had tears streaming down his face as did Nikki. Dream was frozen in place and Technoblade held a blank face. Despite Techno's blank face his insides felt like they were being crushed with a truck. The nether got extremly silent except for the Ghasts and the constant cracking of the lava. Without saying a word Technoblade pulled a flower from his pocket, and threw it in the lava ocean. Phil took a shaky breath, knowing by the pervious screams that he only had 2 sons left.

#mcyt #mcyt fandom #dream mcyt #dream smp #mcyt fanfiction #dream team #fundy minecraft #tommyinit #tommy mcyt #tubbo mcyt #wilbur soot #ghostbur #technoblade #ranboo #nihaachu #nihacu #kaori writes

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sennextheassasinkingoflight · 4 years

Text

To My Grave

Geraskier Rated T to be safe. Cross posted to Ao3

Prompt: I told you I love you, I thought I was dying, but I lived and now I have to deal.

Summer was of course Jaskiers favorite time of year. Not to say that he did not miss the opulence of the city, or the balls, or even the conversation and study of the arts while he was away. To say he did not miss the shade of the trees in the courtyards of Oxenfurt, or the breeze that often blew off the river would be a lie. And yet, summer brought with its adventure, travel, inspiration, and of course, his friend Geralt of Rivia.

Despite the excitement that summer brings him, today Jaskier is quite miserable as dust rises into the air with every hoof fall of Roach and Pegasus against the dried, cracked soil of the road. The sun hanging high in the sky drowns them in wave after wave of stifling heat as he follows behind the Witcher heading towards Vizima. They’ve easily another day beyond tonight before they reach their destination, but word of a winged beast has reached Geralt and he is insistent on finding out what it is. Jaskier for his part can’t bring himself to mind. There are plenty of winged beasts that wreak havoc, and he can’t wait to find out what it is. He’s certain it will make for another great tale. Beyond that, there is rumored to be a bardic competition beginning in the next few days, and Jaskier desperately wants to compete.

“Geralt?”

The barest shift in his friend’s demeanor encourages him to continue. Where it was once hard to read the Witcher it is now a language in which he is more fluent than he believed he would be. Shifting in the saddle to ease the discomfort in his lower back, a side effect of aging, he continues his speech.

“How long do you think we may be in Vizima? You see there’s this competition and I was hoping to, well, compete while we’re in town. I know, of course, that it will depend on what kind of “winged beast” it is that we find upon our arrival, but have you perchance any ideas on our time frame?”

“I could leave you there.”

“Come now Witcher, I’m being serious.” He laughs out. Geralt hasn’t threatened to leave him behind, seriously, in almost a decade.

“So was I, bard.” Geralt tells him with a slump in his shoulders that indicates he isn’t serious at all.

“Hmm, I don’t think I believe you.” Snarks Jaskier like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. And for him, it might as well be. Perhaps he is too comfortable with his companion. Still, he wouldn’t change this for the world.

“I won’t stop you from competing with Jaskier. In fact, maybe you’ll be too busy to get in my way.” Geralt grins over his shoulder and any retort Jaskier had dies in his throat. He rarely sees those smiles, so he focuses, captures the moment to memory and smiles in return. The lapse in conversation is hardly a new commonality for them. Instead of being uncomfortable it has become a token of their friendship, and Jaskier has learned how to put the silence to use for him at some point in the last fifteen years.

As the sun continues to glare down at them, Jaskier drinks water skin and then pulls out one of his many notebooks and a broken piece of charcoal. He has yet to master playing the lute and riding a horse at the same time, but he can take down notes, even if they are a bit of a mess. Messy notes are much better than no notes at all. Absently he wipes sweat from his brow, unintentionally leaving a streak of charcoal dust across his forehead. With the same movement, he unbuttons the top of his doublet. It is unusually hot for this early in the summer he thinks as charcoal meets parchment again.

The rhythmic clip clop of the horse’s hooves is melodic in his ears as he continues brainstorming. Certainly, he could start another conversation with Geralt, but sometimes it was best to save that for around the campfire. Instead, he watches Geralts back, jots down some ideas and notes, and then watches his surroundings. A slight rustling in the bushes to the left catches his attention. Geralt is saying something but he can’t make out what it is over the cacophony of shouting surrounding him, or the burning in his stomach.

Gasping he falls from Pegasus. The trees look lovely from the side, canopying the road like they may actually cast it in shadow from time to time. With a thud his shoulder comes into contact with solid earth and he groans. Unconsciously he curls into the fetal position on his uninjured side and grits his teeth against the sharp pain below his ribs. Squeezing his eye shut against the ringing of steel in the air and the sun above him he tenderly seeks out the wound with tips of his right-hand fingers. There is an arrow lodged below his ribcage, just below his left lung. Well, that’s lucky isn’t it. He thinks to himself as he assesses the damage as much as possible without the use of his eyes. Slowly he forces them open, blinks against the white in his vision and tries to observe his surroundings.

He watches despondently as Geralt disappears into the woods chasing something, bandits, his brain supplies as he forces himself to roll onto his back and breath as deep as he can. It hurts. It hurts worse than anything he has felt before. Whimpering he considers what he needs to do and blinks back tears trying to keep them from sliding through the dust on his face and turning to mud. Shaking he manages to get to a sitting position, his head spins wildly and he presses his eyes closed so hard he can hear the fluttering of his eyelids. It doesn’t take long for nausea to set in and he vomits to the side.

When he has caught his breath, he looks down and tries to ascertain the extent of the injury. Due to its location he can’t tell exactly how bad it is, between his doublet getting in the way and the poor angle. Exhaling a long, low whistle of air he looks around and notes Pegasus nearby and Roach grazing peacefully to the side, waiting for Geralts inevitable return. Which, Jaskier admits to himself, could be a while if he’s found reason to kill them all. Unlikely, but a good beating, certainly. Hesitantly he tries to stand and fails. Pain like fire rips through his side and the wound begins to bleed worse. Instead he uncrosses his legs and scoots, and starts and stops to the side of the road.

When he finally makes it to the grass he moans. He aches all over and he is shivering cold, despite the heat of the sun against his skin. Sweat beads across his brow, down the nape of his neck and across his back. The station of the sun tells him some time has passed and the only feasible explanation is that he passed out. It doesn’t surprise him. He can’t remember much beyond falling to the ground and Geralt giving chase. Trying to relax his body he lays back feels at the wound, the arrow has been jostled in his movement and it comes loose without much prodding. He inhales too sharply and grimaces, clenching his teeth as air tickles his insides. With a groan he rolls onto his good side and curls up. There is little he can do on his own. He knows he should try and stop the bleeding but he can’t as black shapes swirl in his vision.

+++++

When he comes to the throbbing in his head and side are enough to make him grunt in pain. He can’t seem to formulate words, and despite the darkness that surrounds him when he tries to open his eyes, he is burning up. He lets his weight shift to the right and feel his forehead come into contact with something hard and cool. He moans, pleased and leans further into the item. Leather? His tired mind supplies and he sighs.

“Hold on Jaskier. Just, hold on.” Geralt says nearby, voice rough like gravel, and all he can do is form a strangled sound in response.

++++++

When he wakes a second time, there are two voices whispering urgently somewhere nearby. The first is melodic, clipped and paced. Designed to be listened to, informative. He wonders if the face that belongs to it is soft? If the lips that form words are plump? Are her eyes gentle? The second voice is familiar, like gravel beneath boots. It puts him at ease. He’s to tired to try and open his eyes, though he wants to. Everything burns and aches. Fire courses through his veins, and his side is the source of its fuel.

He tries to speak, but his tongue is heavy in the pit of his mouth. It feels as though someone has poured sand into it while he has slept. His lungs, too, feel as though they are dry as the deserts to the east. He tries to move, to make any sign of life and it is impossible given how barren every part of himself is. If the fire continues to rage, he knows he will not wake up. The thought terrifies him, puts him on edge. Something is placed on his forehead and it feels like boiling water, the cloth like horsehair against his skin. It makes him want to squirm, to lift his hand and throw the blasted item off.

“Jaskier, rest.” The voice like gravel says and so he tries. No. You cannot rest now, Julian. There is something you must tell him before you go. A voice inside his head tells him, and he’s tired enough to listen to it. Aching to fall into oblivion and never return. He is in agony.

“Ge- Grlt.” He manages through parched lips. He tastes blood on his tongue, and in some sick way it is soothing, his mouth finally feels wet, like it should.

“Jask. Sleep.” Geralt says, and he can’t. How could he possibly sleep when he has something this important to say? He tries to swallow, fails, coughs weakly and chokes.

“I.” He wheezes. These words are mummified deep within the caverns of his body. They are dust in his lungs; never meant to be pushed up the dried canal of his throat, never meant to pass through the forbidden gate of his vocal cords, over the desert plateau of his tongue, and carried by hot air through the cracked dunes of his lips.

“Love you.” He finishes voice rough as a sandstorm, before the call of darkness’ cool embrace drags him into the depths of her inky waters.

+++++

He wakes to cool air against his skin, darkness surrounding him when he manages to pry his dried eyes open, and the smell of rosewater and ivy encompassing him. Altogether it is a pleasant change from the last two times he woke up. Of this he is certain. There is very little pain in his movements as he pushes himself into a sitting position.

The bed beneath him is soft, comfortable, expensive. The pillow he shifts behind him is down, and he almost grins, then remembers he has no idea where he is, and in the darkness, he cannot see anything. There are no candles, or fires in the room, and the faint starlight shimmering at the edges of what appear to be heavy curtains does nothing to illuminate the shadows dancing around him. He opens his mouth to call out and whimpers when his lips crack. Tentatively he licks them and finds them bloodied. After a moment he swallows and tries again.

“Hello.” It’s hoarse, and coarse, and too quiet to have been heard, and yet the air to the left of the bed stirs. He shifts to listen more attentively and is surprised when he receives an answer.

“You’re awake!” Its melodic voice and he can’t help but smile at the joy he hears in it.

“I. Yes.” He manages.

“You must be thirsty, let me get you something.” The disembodied voice says and he smiles.

“Thank you.” He blinks away the tears that form when there is a sudden burst of light in the room. Several candles lit themselves across the expanse of the chamber. He watches as the woman moves to the table and pours water from a pitcher, likely there for that very reason. She is lovely, brown hair in ringlets and dark skin shining in the flickering light. When she brings him the water he accepts it gratefully and sips at it.

“Geralt?” He asks after the silence has stretched too long.

“He went out after your reveal. He hasn’t been back yet, but he left Roach so I’m sure he will be back at some point.” She grins, eyes revealing nothing but amusement and understanding.

“I’m sorry, but my wh— oh.” The word comes out of him like he’s been punched in the gut by a witcher. “Please, tell me, it was more than three words?” He begs, voice very quiet, eyes turned towards the cup in his hand as he tries not to spill it. He focuses on keeping his hand from shaking as the woman giggles and then speaks.

“Well, four if you count his name.”

“Lovely. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” He mumbles and then smiles up at her.

“Triss, Triss Marigold.” She says with a smile and refills his water.

“Thank you for staying with me while I recovered. And for the water, I feel as though I could drink a lake dry.”

‘After the fever you had, I’m certain it feels that way. Are you feeling hungry at all?”

It takes him a moment to process the question, and when he does he simply shakes his head no. He doesn’t have much in the way of an appetite, but he is exhausted. Tentatively he brings the glass cup to his lips and drinks the rest of the water. Triss smiles encouragingly at him and he can’t help but return it.

“Miss Marigold, perhaps this is tactless of me, but did you use magic on me? I seem to notice a lack of hole in my gut.

She laughs and her eyes crinkle with glee, “Yes, some. Though I specialize in plants, which is what cured your fever. My magic and Geralts potions did the rest.”

“Witcher potions. He used, a potion on me?”

“Before you got here. He was… concerned you would not make it. You’ve been out for a while, but you haven’t been resting. Try to go back to sleep and we can speak more in the morning.” Triss stands, takes the cup from him and returns it to the table. When she reaches the door she turns to look at him one final time.

“If you need anything, I’m down the hall on the right. Good night Jaskier.” With a wave of her hand she plunges the room back into darkness and the door closes behind her with a soft clunk.

Sighing to himself, Jaskier snuggles down into the thick duvet and curls onto his side. He’s alone with his thoughts and the knowledge that his best kept secret is in the air. He would scream if it didn’t feel like it would drain him of every drop of energy he has. Instead he growls into the pillow with frustration and lets out a long winded sigh. Well Julian, He thinks, this is great. Look what you’ve gone and done now. Ha! You weren’t even awake to see his face. Cowardly now aren’t we. Of course, when haven’t we been? Then again, this wasn’t something we counted on right? No. No it wasn’t. This is fine. This is completely fine. I was dying, right? Yes. I was dying, and feverish. Geralt can’t blame me. We’ll…. We’ll just pretend it was never said and that will be that. Yes, that’s all there is to it. I’ll just pretend not to remember. Geralt probably won’t bring it up and that will be the end of it. Or so he tells himself as he drifts off to sleep in an oversized, overstuffed bed.

Bright light filters through his eyelids and wakes him the following morning. With an unamused groan he rolls over in bed and pulls the duvet over his head. Whose idea was it to open the blinds without warning him. Did they want him to go blind? The smell of food draws him from the cave of warmth he’s created. Sitting up he looks towards the table where Triss is sitting amusedly waiting for him.

“You’re in good spirits this morning.” He grumbles, the effect somewhat ruined by a yawn.

“Of course, I am. You're alive. Geralt is back. The king listened to me for once. It doesn’t get much better than that around here. Now, eat your bread and broth. Nothing heavier for a few days. You’re still recovering.”

Languidly he stretches before slipping from the bed and joining her at the table. In the light of day he can see that the room is smaller than it appeared in the dark. The table is situated a short distance from the hearth, there is a finely woven rug between the table and the bed, a chest and wardrobe against the far wall, and an end table beside the bed and the chair which yet remains beside it.

“Well then, it seems as though everything is going to plan for you today.” He smiles and sips at the steaming beverage in front of him. It soothes his throat on the way down and tastes sweet.

“For now.” She agrees. They eat in companionable silence until heavy footfalls pull them both from their thoughts. He doesn’t have to look up to know that Geralt has entered the room. He can feel eyes on the back of his neck. Triss smiles at him, then looks passed him.

“Well I have some tasks to attend to. I’ll check in on you later, Jaskier.” She says politely and makes her way out of the room.

Jaskier chews his bread slowly, waiting. He will let Geralt speak first, let him decide where this conversation is going to go. Straightening his back, he takes another gulp of his drink and finally Geralt comes into his line of sight. With obvious discomfort the witcher sits across from him.

“You’re awake then.”

“Obviously, Geralt. I am sitting up and eating, or is this a dream?” His lips pull up in a half-hearted smile. He’s too tired to pretend but he will do what he needs to to put Geralt at ease.

“Right. Yes.” Geralt coughs and oh gods, he can’t do this.

“You seem…. Unnerved, my friend.” He winces internally as Geralt makes eye contact with him and just as fast breaks it. Well Jaskier, way to act normal. He closes his eyes and scrubs at his face.

“You almost died.”

“I remember and its far from the first time.” Geralt stares at him and the words catch up with him. He comprehends them and wants to go hide in the folds of the blankets. The silence stretches long and tense between them. It’s uncomfortable in a way it hasn’t been in a long time. Jaskier catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror and notes the slight wrinkles around his eyes, the way his hair is gathering grey at the temples. He shifts, winces at the slight pain, and thinks, better to have said something now than live to regret it, I suppose. He watches Geralt watch him from time to time, face impassive and unreadable, and finally he drops his gaze from golden irises. Geralt will speak when he is ready, and in this Jaskier will not push him for an answer, only… he can’t quite keep his mouth shut.

“Like you said, I was dying, and I know I was feverish. We can pretend nothing was said if you like. We're good at that. At pretending. So why don’t we just move on? It’s not like we haven’t pretended in the past.” He manages, and his voice sounds weak, disappointed, even to him.

“It did happen.”

“Yes, but I’m saying if you want to pretend it didn’t then say so. Look, I was dying, I didn’t really think I’d be alive to deal with the repercussions of my words.” He flicks his eyes up to Geralts and freezes. Geralt looks vulnerable, like he’s battling something inside himself and he thinks he should look away but he can’t make his eyes obey.

“Did you mean it?” Jaskier almost misses the question, caught completely off guard by the earnestness in Geralts tone.

It takes him a long time to answer. Not because he doesn’t know the answer, but because he is trying to choose his words wisely. He opens his mouth and closes it more times than he likes to admit and holds up his hand to stop Geralt interrupting him when the witcher tries to speak. Finally he does speak, slowly, as though he doesn’t really know the words he wants to say and hopes that they will instead flow from his mouth.

“I did. I do.” He takes a breath and perseveres, “But I think, what you mean is: How do I love you? What makes you different from any of my dalliances?” Geralt simply nods noncommittally.

“You are who I think of when I think of home. If you ask me where I want to be at any given time, the answer is always; with you. When we began traveling together, I counted the days to when I would go back to Oxenfurt for the winter to work on finishing the manuscripts I start in the summer. Now, at some point along the way, that shifted. It came full circle and all I can think about when I’m supposed to be teaching is where we’ll be going next. It’s consuming, and it’s not fair. It’s an ache and a longing, and a hope. I don’t know how to best answer you, for that much I am sorry.”

Geralt nods slowly at him, hums in understanding and they lapse back into quiet. It’s not as tense or uncomfortable as before, but it stretches nearly as long.

“And if that feeling were returned?” Geralt asks, looking right past him.

“I would have died happy.” It’s the best he can offer. To say more risks never traveling with the Witcher again. As it is, it wouldn’t completely surprise him if Geralt packed up Roach and took off. Told him to go back to Oxenfurt and never come back. He hopes that won’t be the case, that at worst Geralt goes along with pretending. At best, he hopes that the feeling is returned, that the question isn’t just cryptic, and curiosity fueled. Geralt sits straighter and rolls his shoulders.

“Triss says you need a few more days to recover and I still need to deal with the gryphon. You missed your competition.” Geralt says briskly as he stands.

“I imagined as much.” He responds dutifully, tries to keep the bitterness from his voice as Geralt leaves the room. He lets his head fall back and stares at the ceiling. It could have been worse, he tells himself, he could have sent you back to the university. For now we pretend, and that has to be enough. With a mournful sigh he gets to his feet and makes his way to the window, his food forgotten. Leaning against the wall he watches as Geralt prepares to go on his hunt. Idly, he wonders how long it will be until this all crumbles around him, tries to console himself to contentment as he soaks in the morning light. Summer is his favorite, but he worries this will be the last one that fits into the category as he watches Geralt ride out.

Happy (ISH) Epilogue:

The summer had continued in a kind of stale peace. They’re actions, hesitant and second guessed at every turn. Neither comfortable around the other. Awkward in each other's presence in a way they hadn’t been in years. Every dance and rhythm they had gone, replaced with missteps and uncertainty. More than once, Jaskier wonders if he should return to Oxenfurt, but he is greedy and if Geralt isn’t actively asking him to leave then he will stay. June fades into July, and July bleeds into August before they know it, and still they’ve only just begun to return to the familiarity of longstanding friendship.

The sun is setting, and the smell of their supper has settled heavy over their campsite when Geralt speaks softly across the fire. The Witchers voice is soft enough that Jaskier doesn’t realize he’s being spoken to right away, over the sound of his lute. He fumbles the strings at the oddity of it and blinks rapidly at Geralt. It was unusual for him to start the conversations, they had reverted back to Jaskier being the chattery one and Geralt being the monosyllabic one since their conversation.

“I’m sorry, what?” Geralt stares at him and shakes his head in what appears to be amusement. Jaskiers heart somersaults in his chest and he can’t help but be happy about it. Maybe normalcy is returning to their relationship.

“I said, there is a competition in Redania. Do you want to go?”

“Yes. Yes! Of course I want to go, Geralt!” He grins and strums a bold chord. Geralt shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the boisterousness of it all.

“Good. I thought… it would be nice. Since you missed the last big event.” Geralt mutters to him, as he stokes up the fire, carefully avoiding Jaskiers eyes.

“Wait,” He begins slowly, uncertainly, “You don’t have a contract that’s taking us to Redania? You’re offering to go simply for the competition? You’re not a doppler are you?” a laugh bubbles out of him by the end. Geralt glares, unfortunately, Jaskier grew an immunity to them almost immediately.

“I am not a doppler. Not that you would know one if it bit you on the ass, Bard. I’m certain I’ll find contracts as we travel.” The Witcher sighs and lies back on his bed roll.

“Why?” Jaskier asks, voice quiet. He knows Geralt has heard him, but he also knows maybe it’s pushing the boundaries a little. When no immediate answer comes, Jaskier lies down for the night too, watches as the stars come out and light the night sky. His eyes have grown heavy and he lets out a small yawn. When he’s settled and nearly asleep, Geralt finally answers, voice steady in the dark of night.

“So, you can die happy.”

He grins into his bag, Geralt was never one for words, but Jaskier has always been good at understanding what he means. It’s no secret to either of them, that Jaskiers days will end before Geralts unless some freak accident happens. And maybe, mentioning death isn’t the best way to say “I love you”, but nothing about them has ever made sense to anyone else.

#The Witcher #Geraskier #Prompt fill #Writing'#Fanfiction #Jaskier #Geralt #Triss'#I confessed my love for you because I thought I was dying but then I lived and now I need to deal.

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oliverwxod · 4 years

Text

The hardest part is letting go (Geralt imagine) - Part 4

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, angst

Summary: Part 4 to this

"You've been grumpy these past few days" Jaskier pointed out. The two of them were sitting away from a group of people on the hunt for a certain kind of monster or creature that no one knew of. Not even Geralt at this point.

The sun was just setting in the West, a deep orange hue reflecting off of the trees, creeping through the branches and leaves in a starry pattern, Y/n couldn’t help but focus on the side of Jaskiers face where a perfect circle of the sun had chosen to rest upon his skin for the next few minutes.

Geralt was sitting with the group across from them, glaring at the floor as he sharpened a piece of wood into a dagger shape, the others all spoke around him, ignoring his mood as this was how the expected him to be. He was a Witcher and they weren’t known for being friendly.

"M'fine" she mumbles in reply to Jaskiers question, pushing her food around with a makeshift fork.

"Really convincing" he chuckled momentarily before seeing the sadness hiding in her expression. “You know that you can talk to me?” he spoke seriously, a tone that was not fitting on Jaskier.

"do you ever just feel- sad?" She asked quietly, staring slightly across the way at the setting sun, wishing life was as simple as the beauty and peacefulness of watching a sun rise and sunset. Jaskier sighed deeply, sending her a sympathetic look that she missed by not paying full attention.

"I know who you're talking about" he spoke. Sending a quick glance at the white haired Witcher who was still glaring at the ground across the way. He had also been in a mood the past week, however his was more prominent and known to everyone in the way he spoke in even shorter sentences than normal.

"Yeah well- I don’t know how to feel, I've never experienced a feeling like this staying with me for this long” she mumbled.

“It takes time” Jaskier said quietly in return. “it always takes time to heal- time or-” he trailed off .

“time or what?” she asked catching the hesitation.

“time or space” he said lowly. He did not mean to put that idea in her head.

“space?” she asked. “as in- I don't know - like leave?”.

“I don’t think that would help.” Jaskier said quickly.”Plus you can’t”

“you make it sound like I'm a prisoner Jaskier” she said laughing gently.

He gave her a side smile, happy to see an ounce of joy on her face; both of them missing the intense glare Geralt was giving the two of them who looked to be in a deep conversation.

“I know you’re hurting” he spoke softly, giving her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “Just give it time”

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He’d fucked up. Geralt knew this. He fucked up badly, he should have never put the two of them in a situation like that. He swore he would always keep things professional but he crossed that line and there was no way to go back and change what had happened.

Geralt hated conversations, he was hardly the man who would ever start one which Is why he had been waiting so long to talk to Y/n. He assumed she would be the first to come to him and ask to talk to him, but she hadn’t. In fact she had been acting as if nothing had happened between them; instead he only received short clipped sentences and answers to his questions, or silent nods with a blank look in her eyes.

He didn’t realise how much she was hurting, nor would he unless she said it out loud and clear.

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

The monster turned out to be a hoax, a figure of the imagination which someone had spread around the village creating widespread fear and terror.

This only worsened Geralt’s mood, time wasted, precious time where he could be earning coin.

“well at least the scenery was nice” Jaskier spoke cheerfully, trying to lighten the sour mood. The atmosphere was tense as it had been the past week and he was getting sick of Geralt’s foul mood.

“Yeah, the sunsets were amazing” Y/n added, smiling softly at Jaskier. He smiled slightly in thanks to her for replying and at least trying to have a conversation.

“Sunsets don’t earn coin” Geralt grunted, Jaskier rolling his eyes at Y/n making her chuckle quietly.

“and neither does being a brooding old man” Y/n huffed back under her breath, immediately regretting it as Geralt stopped in his way and turned to face her.

“Old?” he questioned, one eyebrow raising in surprise. Is that what she really thought of him.

Jaskier winced slightly at the look on Geralt's face, knowing he was either about to laugh or go into an even worse mood, Jaskier hoped it was the first. When Y/n didn’t reply he grunted.

“oh princess” he shook his head “you’re going to regret saying that”

“yeah?’ she questioned challenging him, a glimpse of a moment when everything seemed to go back to normal, the old sense of banter returning “what are you going to do-”

A loud piercing scream sounded, startling them all including Geralt who had been too engrossed in finally speaking to Y/n.

Y/n immediately ran towards the sound, Geralt’s mind not kicking in until she was 20 meters or so away from him, his Witcher senses coming second for once. He followed quickly his heart thumping in its cage as Y/n was only just in his sight.

“Princess” he yelled hoping she would slow down, but she was stubborn. The scream sounded again and Geralt ran faster, catching up quickly to Y/n, grabbing her almost roughly by the shirt and pulling her behind him in a slight panic as they came to a clearing in the woods.

A mother and baby were behind a large tree stump, a Wyvern flying overhead of them, swooping in low towards them, Y/n shouted as the Wyvern got closer to the mother and baby, its tongue snaking out in a hiss. Geralts hold on her had tightened as she tried to escape to run towards them.

“I'm warning you Y/n” he spoke in a deep threatening voice.

“I can’t just watch them get killed” she almost growled in anger at him, trying to remove his hold on her.

“I won’t let that happen” he spoke trying to reassure her but she wouldn’t listen. A quick punch to the side of his jaw momentarily startled him, he didn’t see it coming, the last thing he expected to come from her. It was fairly unnecessary but Y/n had been wanting to that for a while and it was the perfect opportunity.

She quickly escaped his arms, running towards the mother and child, the Wyvern quickly becoming distracted by her, circling her as she ran. Geralt was hot on her heals after recovering from the shock of her punch, trying to grab at her, but she dodged past him at every chance until she knelt to the ground, mud coating her knees as she reached the mother and baby, cowering slightly over them to protect them from the beast.

Geralt huffed angrily as he stared at her, deeming it safe for a while that he could taunt the Wyvern enough to distract it away from the three of them and slay it himself.

He had killed a creature like this many of times, it was fairly easy and tame for him so it didn’t take barely 5 minutes of his time, a taunt of a game, and a slash of a silver sword straight through its neck, killed the beast immediately.

“it’s gone now, it’s okay” Y/n spoke hushed to the traumatised pair.

“T-thank you- thank you so much” the woman spoke “Please, come with us” she said standing up “we have an Inn, food and drink and a bed, it’s the least we can do to repay you”

“what did I miss?” Jaskier spoke appearing out of the woods, out of breath and red in the face.

Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle, half in relief and half in surprise at how everything just happened so quickly. However, one glance at Geralt told her just how unhappy he was with her.

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

That’s how they ended up in the Inn, a quietness fallen upon the room as Y/n sat down on the edge of the bed. Geralt stood across the room, staring out of the large window that overlooked a small stream. The moon reflected off the water, creating a serene glow throughout the room, hitting the side of Y/n’s face as she cradled her hand with her other in pain.

“What happened?” Geralt asked after quickly surveying her actions.

“Your face happened” she mumbled.

Geralt scoffed “you didn’t have to hit me”

“I wanted to” she spoke. “would have done it either way”

“why?” he asked quickly, his face pulling into a deep frown.

“Because-” she halted, a flush on her cheeks creeping up surely he must have known why she was so pissed at him, he was clever and it didn’t take a man of much intelligence to figure it out.

“because what?” he asked.

“because you slept with that witch!” she spoke in an almost whine.

Geralt halted, a numbness freezing over him as he took in her words. She had been mad about that this whole time and not what he had thought. He thought she was angry over the fact that he slept with her, took her virginity and she regretted it.

“Princess-”

“no. It doesn’t matter. I know I shouldn’t be hurt by it- but - it’s hard not to Geralt. You wouldn’t understand.” she said, her voice getting quieter and quieter.

“why wouldn’t I understand?” he demanded.

“Because you’re a Witcher! You don’t know this feeling” she argued. “You don’t know how to be a human or-”

“Princess-”

“and you don’t even try to understand sometimes, it’s like you expect-”

“Listen to me” he spoke getting slightly annoyed that she wasn’t letting him speak. She startled slightly not realising she had gone on a slight ramble. “I didn’t think you knew about that, about me and-”

“that whore” she spoke glaring at him.

“Y/n” he glared back, her glare turning slightly sheepish.

“then why have you been such a bitch all week?” she huffed.

“a bitch?”

“yes. It’s been hell to be around you this week”

“I thought you were mad because you regretted it” he said, the statement making them both pause, they hadn’t spoken about what they had done, this was the first time either of them had openly addressed it.

“You- you really thought I regretted it?” she asked quietly, chewing on the bottom of her lip in nervousness. She didn’t want to look up, she didn’t want to see his expression.

He sighed out loud at how much of a mess this situation was. This was exactly why he didn’t do feelings or involve himself with personal matters, it got confusing and he didn’t have the time for it. But he guessed he could make time for it now. He was mean’t to protect her after all.

“I didn’t” she spoke, the words reassuring him slightly, but then the fact hit him that she had seen him. She had seen him make a mistake by sleeping with Yennifer and that was something he couldn’t take back.

“didn’t or don’t?” he asked, voice deep and only just a little hesitant.

“don’t” she replied, a throbbing of her hand suddenly gaining her attention again as she flinched.

Geralt moved from where he stood, confidently reaching for her hand, holding it in his gently as he surveyed the damage that was caused by her punch.

“You should have said” he spoke.

“what? that I don’t regret it?”

“Yes. But also the fact that your wrist is clearly fractured” he said sternly, as he turned her hand in his so her palm was facing downwards, a deep purple bruise splashed onto her skin, spanning the length of her hand and the first few inches of her wrist.

“it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt” she lied knowing he would pick up on it immediately.

“hmmm” he grunted, “if you say so”

“did you regret it? do you regret it? is that why you’ve been in such a foul mood?” she asked quietly.

“Y/n” he sighed.

“so you do?” she spoke, humiliation starting to set in, as she stood up, wanting nothing more than to leave the room.

Geralt was quick to pull her back down so she was sitting on the bed beside him now.

“don’t run” he said calmly, it was quiet for a few moments before he carried on speaking, trying to find the words to say to her. “I don’t regret it Y/n. God it was something I had been trying so hard not to let myself think about”

“why?”

“Because I'm meant to protect you" he spoke. "It was what I was paid to do"

"You don't need to" she huffed.

"I do and I can't do that if I don't have a clear mind.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, she didn't know if she actually wanted to know.

"It means I'm not good at this stuff" he spoke "and that will only serve to hurt you which in return will only create more anger and frustration and that is not an ideal environment to be in."

"I still don't know what you mean" she said, frowning in confusion at the riddles he was spurting.

"You will grow to hate me. And if that happens it will be harder to protect you" he sighed, running a hand through the front of his hair as he set his gaze onto her face, seeing the confusion.

"It's simple though" she spoke, shaking her head slightly in amusement as if it were obvious.

"It's not simple" he said.

"It's is, just don't hurt me and I won't hate you Geralt. Hell even if you did I could never hate you" she spoke, eyes meeting his. He shook his head.

"Y/n" he said, his tone serious, the hint of a smile her face held disappearing at the tone.

"I can't-"

"Geralt-"

"No." He spoke, holding a hand up to silence her. "I'm sorry Y/n, but I can't, we can't and I don't want to hear anymore of this okay?" He hated himself, hated the words coming out of his mouth, but it was for the best.

A Princess did not belong with a Witcher.

He spared a glance at her, making sure his face gave nothing away but the blank stare of finality. She wasn't looking at him, head bowed to the floor, she gave a small nod her heart breaking more inside with every step Geralt took towards the door.

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

These took forever to do aha, please let me know what you think/ like and reblog would be appreciated xx

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#Geralt imagine #Geralt smut #Geralt x reader #Geralt angst #Geralt fanfic #the Witcher imagine #the Witcher fanfic #the Witcher x reader #jaskier imagine #the Witcher smut #the witcher #Geralt of rivia #Geralt of rivia imagine

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ieattaperecorders · 4 years

Text

Trapdoor

Inb4 we get a good description of the post-apocalyptic world, wrote a little monster encounter for these boys. It’s also here on Ao3.

- - -

“Where are you going?”

Martin turned to Jon who stood a few paces back, looking quizzical. “Towards the hills? You just said it would be safer there.”

“I absolutely did not say that.” Jon replied. “I said we ought to go this way,” he gestured in the direction he’d been turning. “Stick to the lower places, where there’s less room for things to sneak up.”

The rolling, rocky countryside had been suspiciously innocuous lately. Unsettlingly normal. For the last few kilometers, nothing had leaped out at them or tried to lure them towards apparent safety. No part of the world had suddenly twisted or inverted around them. In fact, for some time the terrain they’d been walking across had done an impressive job of resembling ordinary Scottish land on a gray and drizzly morning. It was leaving both of them tense, anxious, waiting for the hammer to fall.

“. . .I’m pretty sure I heard you.” Martin looked back at the hills. “And it feels safer to go that way? I dunno, higher ground? Doesn’t that seem right?”

“Martin.” Jon put his hands on Martin’s arms, speaking slowly and carefully. “You might want to consider the possibility that something is making you feel that way.”

“That doesn’t sound ri - - ah.” Martin caught himself. “Maybe. Er,” he lifted his arms. “Have I got any spiders on me?”

Jon peered over him nervously. “I mean. I don’t see any, but it’s not likely going to be that simple.”

“How do we know which way is safe, then?” Martin asked. “If we’re possibly dealing with mind control, it could be tricking you as well.”

“It’s wise to be skeptical where these things are concerned.” Jon said, “But I was able to see in the Unknowing, and I think this may be similar. Besides that, you seem a little . . . dazed, to me?”

“Yeah. . .” Now that he was focusing on it, he had to admit that his head felt off somehow. “I guess I am feeling a little . . . dazed.”

“I think that my connection to the Eye is the only thing keeping keep me safe. We ought to move as quickly as we can.” Jon looked at him intently. “If this place is affecting your mind, you might not be able to trust everything you see and hear. So stay close to me, try to ignore anything strange. I’ll guide you.”

There was something moving in Martin’s peripheral vision. Tiny ripples formed in the dirt, as if something was shifting underground. He swore he could hear a muffled noise, like a shuffling or hissing, coming from nearby.

“Don’t focus on it.” Jon’s hand came up to tilt Martin’s face towards his own. “Whatever you’re seeing, I’m pretty sure looking at it is a mistake. Just look at me. Focus on my voice. You can trust me.”

“Right.” That noise was getting louder, and Martin tried to ignore it. “Looking is probably a mistake. . . .”

Even out of the corner of his eye, though, Martin could tell that thing was moving closer. He was relieved when Jon turned, hand clasping his, and started leading him away from it.

“This way,” Jon said, pulling gently but quickly at him. “Try to keep your eyes on me.”

But it was really hard not to look down when the mud started to swirl around at their heels. The sound coming from below was just loud enough for Martin to make out a word.

Stop--

And he was pretty sure he did not want to listen to the ground telling him to stop moving, so he decided to quicken his pace a little. But he hadn't gotten far before the soil opened up behind him and a hand, black with mud, reached out and gripped his ankle.

Martin yelped and pulled away, but the hand’s grip was tight, and he only succeeded in yanking half an arm out of the ground with it.

“Don’t look down!” Jon’s voice came from behind him, hand still gripping his. “That’s how it pulls you in. Just keep moving!”

And Martin would have done as he said, except at that moment the soil shifted and a pair of shoulders joined the arm, as did the rough shape of a human head. There were more arms surrounding it, bent and twisted ones with joints like the legs of an insect and long, grasping hands. They reached out and wrapped around the muddy figure to pull it back down, but it was quickly struggling free. Choking, gasping and spitting mud, Jon’s face emerged from below.

“S-stop--” he gasped, looking wild-eyed at Martin “Stop listening to it!”

“Oh my God . . . Jon!?” Martin stared at the half-buried figure.

“Let him go!” Jon’s voice growled from behind him, directed at the muddy silhouette. “He’s not for you!”

The Jon that was covered in mud coughed and spat out a gobbet of earth, its hand still gripping Martin’s leg . He was pulling him towards the mud, he realized, and the grasping hands. Or, no, was he pulling himself out? Or was he just pulling Martin towards himself, away from the one who was holding him?

The one who was - - there was still a hand gripping his hand. Whose...whose hand was on him . . . .?

“Martin. Look at it.” The Jon clinging to his ankle fixed a penetrating gaze on him. Martin felt something . . . a painful moment of light piercing the haze in his mind. “Look at what you’ve been talking to.”

Martin looked back at the thing holding his hand. It was definitely not Jon. It had too many limbs, and not enough eyes, and when it smiled there was a hissing sound like that of a chittering insect.

He screamed, pulling his hand back and trying back away. Unfortunately the real Jon still held his ankle, so he didn’t back away so much as stumble and fall flat onto the ground. The monster loomed. It no longer looked like Jon, but it retained just enough detail - his scarred right hand, the color of his shirt, the lower half of his face now split with a too wide grin - to make everything else seem worse.

“Get away - -” Jon’s voice was hoarse, rough with the soil he’d been trapped in, but there was fire in it. “Get - - away from him.”

The creature froze in place as Jon pulled himself up beside Martin. Martin assumed that Jon’s gaze was keeping it still, but he wasn’t going to rely on the Watcher if he could help it. He took the moment of distraction as a chance to sweep the creature’s legs. Having a dozen, spindly, twisting limbs might be good for frightening people who wander into your terrible pit trap. But they didn’t provide much in terms of stability. The creature went down, landing half on top of Martin.

In a panic, he kicked it towards the hole that Jon had crawled out of. A new arm shot out of the ground just as the monster began to rise. A hand wrapped around one if its gangly legs, and was joined by another. Then another, and another, and many more, until it was looked more like a tangle of chitinous wire than anything remotely humanoid.

Martin and Jon scrabbled back from the pits’ edge as the thing was dragged down and swallowed, screaming inhumanly. The ground went quiet again, and the two of them stopped and breathed.

“Are you all right?” Jon asked.

Martin nodded. “I think so. What about you?”

“I think so.” Jon cleared his throat, voice still raw. “I wasn’t down there long. If, ah, if suffocation were lethal here I’d probably be in more trouble.”

“Here, hang on. . . .” Martin shrugged off his backpack. He was glad he’d had the foresight to bring some bottles of water, despite neither of them feeling thirst anymore. He’d known they’d have some practical use -- or, if he was being honest with himself, tea-related use. But this seemed the more immediate concern.

Jon took the water gratefully, swishing his mouth out and spitting a few times, then attempted to clean himself off. His clothes weren’t going to be pristine again, that was for certain, but he managed to get from ‘dirt monster’ to ‘man who’s been tramping through the muddy woods.’ Which wasn't far from where they’d both been to begin with, and would have to do.

“Stepped in the wrong spot.” Jon muttered as he scrubbed at his hair. “I was underground in an instant.”

“I didn’t even see. I’m sorry.” Martin said.

“It’s not your fault.” Jon replied. “That thing was toying with your mind. I could see it even from down there, but I couldn’t reach you. . . .”

“We should get moving again.” Martin said, getting to his feet. “That thing might be able to crawl out too.”

“Yes. You’re right.” Jon pulled himself up, brushing off what remaining soil he could, and took Martin’s hand. “Towards the hills?”

Martin nodded, slinging the bag back over his shoulder.

“Jon. . .” a startlingly familiar voice came from behind them. “What’s going on?”

Martin turned and found himself facing a figure that looked only vaguely like him. Actually, it would be more right to say it looked exactly like he would look if a number of long, twisted monster arms burst from his back and wrapped themselves around his head and body. It was covered in black mud and one of those long hands obscured the top corner of its face. It stood a few meters away, but Martin could still make out its expression, which was a mocking mimicry of concern.

The Martin-thing held out a hand. “Jon, listen, that’s not me,” it said. Its voice sounded off, though that much might just be because Martin was used to hearing his own voice resonate in his head. “I don’t know what it is, but that isn’t me.”

If the image hadn’t been so unsettling, Martin might have laughed at it. “Nice try? But I don't think he's going to buy it.”

Martin looked over at Jon, who was staring in shock at the Martin-thing. He turned back to Martin and his eyes narrowed with suspicion and concern. Martin groaned inwardly.

“Seriously?” He said. “You’re not really fooled by that thing, are you? It’s covered in weird spider-arms and dripping with mud.”

“Is that what you see?” Jon asked, brow knit.

“I mean, yes?”

“Because he looks entirely normal to me. And--” Jon tensed and Martin felt static at the edges of his perception. A quiet, pained grunt came from between Jon’s teeth. “He looks. . .authentic. Real,” he glanced back at Martin, looking intently at him. “So do you, incidentally.”

“Well thanks very much.” Martin said.

“I, ah.” Jon frowned. “I’m not sure. . .what to do with this?”

There was silence for a while as the three of them stared at each other, not moving. Jon was still holding Martin’s arm, but his grip had tightened a little. Martin suddenly wasn’t sure if Jon was clinging to him, or keeping him in place.

“Okaaay.” The Other Martin said. “So, uh. . . Jon, when you were still working in research, I picked your name for the yearly White Elephant. I barely knew you at that point, so I made the mistake of asking Tim what he thought you’d want. I probably should have realized the ‘it’s wine o’clock somewhere’ t-shirt wasn’t actually your style, but I thought maybe you and Tim had a similar sense of humor and you dressed differently when you weren’t at work.”

“Oh, we’re doing that, are we?” Martin said, annoyed. “Fine. I didn’t let you eat lunch alone for two weeks after you were stabbed. You didn’t want to talk about any of the things you were obsessed with at the time, so I started chatting about anything I could think of to fill the silence. Somehow I got onto cartoons we grew up with and that’s how I found out you’ve never played a Pokemon game but you know a really suspicious amount about the anime.”

The Martin-Thing? Other Martin? Martin was just going to think of it as the other one. It frowned through the tangle of its limbs at Martin’s response.

“The first time you told me that you loved me was on the train to Scotland,” it said, and hearing it talk about that made Martin’s teeth clench. “I was so startled to hear it that I froze and didn’t respond at all, and you started apologizing, worrying you’d made a mistake.”

“Our first night in the safehouse--” Martin said. “You were stroking my hair because you thought I was asleep. I thought you might stop if I opened my eyes, so I just kept pretending. I didn’t tell you about it for a week.”

“Two weeks after we met--” the other one began.

“Stop, stop!” Jon shouted, waved his free hand in the air. “None of that proves anything. There are creatures in this world quite capable of stealing memories, of replacing or re-writing them. You should both know that,” he added with a glare, “regardless of whether you’re real or not.”

The other one frowned. “Jon, it’s me . . . .”

The thing took a step closer and Martin started to back away. Jon kept his grip on him, though that only meant he was pulled along a step or two before he dug his heels into the soft earth.

“Don’t!” he snapped, and Martin stopped moving. Jon released his arm, pose tense, his gaze shooting wildly between them. “Don’t move. Just- - both of you stay where I can see you.”

“Okay. Okay . . .” Martin held up his hands. He could see Jon was starting to panic, and tried to sound calm. “I’m not moving.”

The other one mirrored Martin's pose and Jon nodded, frowning. He backed a step or two away, positioning himself more evenly between the two Martins. His arms were a little out from his sides, as if making ready to grab or push away either one.

“Maybe don’t get too close to it, though?” Martin said, an edge of worry in his voice. “Just in case? Okay?”

“Yeah,” the other one shot back, audibly offended. “Don’t get too close to it, Jon.”

Jon pressed a hand to his forehead, sighing. “Just - just let me think, all right?”

“Right. Take all the time you need.” the other one said, its tone unpleasantly familiar.

Jon paced back and forth with agitation, always keeping his eyes on one of them. Martin watched the other one, in case it made a move for Jon or for him. He couldn’t help but notice It was looking back at him with what he assumed was an identical, watchful expression. Mimics were absolutely the worst.

“Either somehow both of you are really Martin,” Jon muttered, still pacing “or my perception’s being altered in a way I can’t break through. But if it’s the latter I don’t know how we’d proceed. If they both look real, maybe it means neither of them is? But if that’s the case the real Martin could be anywhere, and how am I supposed to find him if I can’t trust what I see. . . .”

“I mean - -” Martin couldn’t help but feel a little hurt hearing Jon talk about him as if he was both not there and in fact, not real. It wasn’t his fault, but it did sting a bit. “How could we both be real?”

“Does that seem impossible at this point?” Jon threw his arms in the air. “That something could split a person in two? Or double them? That would feed into something, surely. The -- the existential fear of it all. Not to mention the fear of being deceived, of unreality, paranoia. . . .”

Martin considered this. “Well. . . that’s fair. But we both saw that other Jon. After that, it seems more likely that one of us is a trick,” he sighed, glaring at the other one. “And I mean. I know which one’s real, but I don’t know how I can prove it to you.”

“You didn’t say you were real.” The other one said triumphantly. “You said ‘I know which one,’ that’s probably a tell, Jon.”

“I meant me, I’m real, I was just trying not to be rude.”

“All right, all right. If nothing else either one of you could be a . . . a replacement.” Jon sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But unless I know, I can’t take the risk of leaving the real Martin behind. So I think we’re all just going to have to stick together until one of you tries to, I don’t know, enslave my will or turn me inside out or something.”

“That’s a bad plan, Jon.” The other one said.

“Yeah, I kind of have to agree with the other one?” Martin said. “I mean, you’re talking about definitely letting an evil doppleganger tag along, I can’t see that ending well.”

“Well unless one of you wants to tear off a Martin skin and get this over with, I don’t see any other options!” Jon snapped, frustrated.

There was a pause, then the other one spoke up.

“What if you asked us who we are?” it suggested. “I mean. . .nothing’s been able to lie to you so far, right?”

Jon considered. He looked at Martin for permission, and he nodded.

“Yeah, all right.” he said. “Do it.”

“Who are you?” Jon’s voice reverberated, reaching into him. The words came out with no resistance.

“I’m Martin Blackwood,” he said.

Jon looked guarded but a measure of relief showed in him, and Martin smiled at that.

“And who are you?” Jon asked the other.

“I’m Martin Blackwood,” it said, “I'm someone who loves you.”

“I mean, I love you too.” Martin said, frowning. Hearing that thing say those words in particular made his stomach twist a little. “I just didn’t think that was what you were asking.”

Jon was quiet for a moment, considering, then he looked at the other one. “Who were you an hour ago?”

“I was Martin Blackwood,” it said. “I’ve always been.”

“And you?” Jon turned back to Martin. “Who were you an hour ago?”

“I was mud.” Martin said. “Eternally grasping, flowing ever downwards. I was hands, many and needful, aching to grip and wrench and pull. I was the thought of hands, hands that grip the mind. Ones you cannot pull away from without ripping out the most vulnerable parts of yourself. And now, I am Martin Blackwood.”

Martin blinked, hand halfway to his throat. The words had poured out of him, he hadn’t even needed to think. Where had they come from?

“I. . .I don’t. I don’t know why I said that?” He laughed nervously. “Why would I say that?”

Jon’s eyes were wide with fear and he backed towards the other one, arm out as if to separate Martin from it. And that wasn’t fair. Why was he trusting that thing over him? It didn’t even look like him.

“Keep away from it.” Jon said.

“Yeah, I got that.” The thing behind him replied.

“Wait- I, I know how this must sound,” Martin tried to explain, “but it’s got to be some kind of trick. I don’t know where those words came from. It’s me. It’s the real me, I promise.”

“I very much doubt that.” Jon said, his voice cold. He was looking at Martin with such hatred, and it stirred something raw and panicky in him.

“Ask me again!” Martin pleaded, voice trembling. “I’ll get it right this time, just ask again!”

“The answer will be the same.” Jon said firmly.

“Jon.” The thing standing behind him put a hand on Jon’s shoulder, speaking softly. “We should probably run. It feels like this is going to get worse really, really soon.”

“Don’t!” Martin resisted the urge to step closer, afraid that if he did Jon would just do as the other one said and start running. “I’m me. I’m Martin Blackwood. You heard me say it, you know it’s true. I’m Martin.”

“But you’re also a trap.” Jon said. When he opened his mouth again, his voice pierced through Martin’s entire being. “Aren’t you?”

This time he did resist, tried to close his mouth as he the words welled up in him. But it was no use.

“Yes,” tears gathered in Martin’s eyes as the truth forced its way through his lips. “A trap for you.”

“No different than the other half of it.” Jon nodded solemnly. “Just a little bit crueler.”

Martin was dizzy. Everything felt like it was falling away. His own words reverberated in his head, taunting him, and he wanted to scream. Then Jon turned and began to walk away, and Martin did panic.

“Wait! Please, just let me come with you,” he begged. “I’m not - I won’t cause trouble. I won’t even complain about the other one, I promise. I - -” he swallowed. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He saw Jon hesitate, gripping the other one a little more tightly, and it held him tightly back. It hurt. That thing didn’t look or feel remotely right, but it was holding Jon. Holding and being held by him while Martin was left outside. Only a few meters away, but it may as well have been the full length of the earth.

“I feel like myself. I feel like . . .like him,” admitting to being something other than Martin was almost physically painful, but he pressed on. “Like Martin. Maybe I didn’t used to be, but I am now.”

“A hand that can conceive of itself,” Jon said darkly. “Clenched by an unseen mind.”

Fairchild’s words now echoed by Jon rang in his memory. The old man had been right. It was horrid. Martin didn’t want to think about any of it. He just wanted to run to Jon, pull him into his arms, hold him close and be held. Couldn’t he just have that? Couldn’t it be that simple?

“I love you.” Martin said. “You can ask me, I’ll say it a thousand times, because it’s true.”

“. . . But you’ll still hurt him,” the other one said. Its voice was as gentle as its words were cruel. “Even if you don’t want to, it’s what you were made to do. The trap is going to close eventually.”

Martin shook his head violently. It wasn’t true. Whatever he might be, he wouldn’t hurt Jon. He just wanted to stay with him. He wanted to wrap his arms around Jon and never let go. He wanted to bury Jon’s face in his chest and hold him close and promise he was safe with him and be believed. Even if they weren’t his, he had memories of a thousand loving embraces. A thousand more gentle touches, kisses, tender looks. They felt no less real than this moment did.

At the same time, he knew Jon would never hold him again. Not willingly. Not anymore.

Something was moving under the earth, snaking closer to the three of them. Something that also wanted to hold them very, very close. Based on the uneasy way they were starting to look at the ground, Martin suspected they felt it rumbling.

“If you love him,” the other one spoke quickly, his voice wavering as the soil shook. “If you’re really me enough to love him, then I think you want him to be safe. And I’m sorry, but he’s not going to be safe with you.”

The heaviness of his words settled on Martin like the weight of all creation. He felt a thousand grasping hands reach out, fingers just breaking the surface of the soil. The two men holding tightly to one another jumped as the earth shifted around them. Then all at once the hands lost their will, and dissolved back into mud.

Martin sat on the ground. He held himself and looked down at the dirt, which was where he truly belonged. He’d keep his gaze fixed there until he heard them leave, then he’d look up and he’d be alone. A hand that could conceive of itself, with nothing to hold.

“. . . Martin?”

Jon’s voice was soft, and Martin assumed he was talking to the other one, the real one, the one who deserved him. But he repeated the name closer this time, and Martin looked up.

Jon stood just a little more than an arm’s length away. The other one was behind him, a hand held protectively on his shoulder. Jon leaned forward, face soft and sad, and Martin took a shallow breath.

“Maybe. . .” Jon said, gently “you should go back to being mud. I think it would be easier than being human. It wouldn’t . . . hurt as much.”

Slowly, Martin nodded. He didn’t remember being mud, but he was pretty damn sure it hurt a lot less than this.

“I don’t know if I can, though,” he said, an ache in his voice. “I don’t. . . I don’t know how to stop being Martin.”

“I can help you, I think.” Jon said. “If you’d let me.”

“But what if. . .” Martin frowned. “If- if I’m mud again. I won’t . . . I mean. . .what if I try to--”

“Then we’ll run.” Jon sounded confident, calm. “We’ve gotten away from worse before. You remember, don’t you?”

He did remember, in fact. Dozens of panicked escapes since the day they left the cabin. Memories of fear, of adrenaline, and of the fierce, mad victory of knowing you’ve reached the other side. They had dealt with worse. He looked questioningly at the other one, who nodded.

“Y-yes.” Martin said softly. “Yes. I’d . . . I’d like to be mud again. Please.”

He felt a vast and painful awareness reach into him, and it pulled out the story of a kind, nervous man who was always underestimated.

The mud slid away from the curves and angles of Martin Blackwood. Details fell back one by one - a quiet night working late, a hand gripping desperately at another, a sweater worn threadbare. For a moment, the mud felt the softest sensation of loss. Then a comfortable hunger returned to it and that feeling dissolved. Filled with relief and clarity once more it reached eagerly, gratefully, to grasp its nearby prey.

The two men staggered back, making the sounds that creatures make when they’re afraid, and their short clumsy limbs scrabbled around them. More of the mud came to join it. Dozens upon dozens of limbs, eternally grasping with an ache to wrench and pull, slid up from the ground to encircle the pair.

But this prey was quick. It was armed, and though the simple weapons could not do the mud any real damage, they were enough to knock limbs aside and open gaps in the tangle, clearing a path for escape. The mud stretched so many limbs to their limit, but its prey reached higher ground and soon it could not follow. Instead it watched eyelessly as they ran towards the hills where the ground would be too dry and too solid for mud to form.

There were countless dangers ahead of them, but this one, they’d escaped. They would not be wrapped in a thousand clutching arms, would not feel the grasping fingers twist in their hearts, would not be pulled into the endless down.

As the tangle of its limbs swirled in frustrated hunger, the mud laughed. It laughed, and laughed, in joy and in relief, as the two figures vanished into the distance.

#fanfic #tma #jonmartin #the magnus archives #tma fanfic

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