#sometimes i just sit and rattle the bars on my little cage of being a writer of oc worldbuildong bdc likr oouuggghj urge to Infodump | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

subbymothpimp · 2 years ago

Text

'Til I'm laughing alone - INTRO

My entry into @aromansoul's Boxer!Silco AU

TW: Blood, Injury, Graphic description of violence, angst, whump My entry, or an attempt on thereof, is set about a week or two after Arcane episode 3, so it features Act 1 Silco, Powder, and Sevika, as well as mentions of Vander and vague hints on Vanco.

I also focused on bare knuckle fighting instead of straight up boxing.

This is part 1/5

PART2 | PART3

'Til I'm laughing alone

Sometimes it can seem like a merciless dream And I'm falling with nothing to hold Sometimes I get flustered and beaten and blistered Abandoned outside in the cold

I’m Gonna Win - by Rob Cantor

It's been years.

Silco feels it too, when the knuckles, wrapped in leather, clip him on the chin, sending his head skyward. He can see a spray of his own blood against the flickering, yellow light on the low ceiling.

In his twenties, he would have dodged this one; stepped to the right to get an opening for a left hook into the opponent’s stomach.

In his early thirties, he would have taken it, though it wouldn’t phase him. His head would snap right back and, while his opponent’s left arm is still withdrawing back, Silco would clench him, turning them both away from the referee so he could ram his fist into the man’s kidney without being penalized.

Today, biting the early numbers of forty, he can feel his mind swim from that uppercut. His head slowly lolls back down, straight in the hands of his opponent. His face is the last thing Silco sees for this round too, because before his eyes even adjust to the view, the man launches forward forehead first and its top part crashes into Silco’s own.

He loses his vision in an explosion of reds and yellows, then stumbles backward until his bare back impacts the rattling cage.

A bell rings as Silco slumps forwards, hands on his knees and head hanging. Vertigo tells him that up is right, left is green, and down is twenty two. When Sevika grabs his shoulders and pushes him towards a chair, he’s still seeing double.

And this was just Round 1.

“This needs to stop.”

Silco narrows his eyes, scowling. He slowly looks up, lips parted. It isn’t often that Sevika uses this tone with him.

They have a rather clear employer-employee relationship most of the time, though that dynamic would be untrue as well. Silco doesn’t pay her, and she isn’t obligated to follow him. Their bond is the future she trusts he can provide. This is why she supports and follows him. It’s much the same with the rest of the group. The little money they used to make behind the Hound’s back was just enough to cover their expenses, most was poured into Singed’s resources, and the rest invested into sharp eyes and ears out there in the Lanes.

Silco is the leader but not the boss.

Now that the Hound is dead, all of this could change, and they know it too. There is a future ahead of them. Perhaps it will be dark for a while, lined with corpses and corruption, but there will be light soon. Just as soon as they gather enough to make the topsiders really worried - enough to withdraw their well-manicured fingers from Zaun and hand over that Decree of Independence.

But first, Silco would have to start doing something. And of course, the past week and a half, he has been doing very much nothing but sitting at the bar of the dark and empty Last Drop and pouring himself drink after drink from quickly disappearing bottles. Of course, occasionally, he would drag his feet to Vander’s former room above the bar, the one with that large, circular window, and lock himself in there for hours.

He needs time. Time to swallow all that happened. Vander’s death most of all.

And clearly, Sevika is here to tell him this mourning time is over. He watches her from underneath the heavy eyelid of his good eye as she stands behind the bar he was the sole patron of at the moment. Sevika’s left arm is gone, amputated at the shoulder and bandaged heavily. He already has some good artificers working on an enhanced arm for her. She is still in recovery, or should be, the pain must be incredible. However, that clearly doesn't stop her from pushing him out of his welcoming despair.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Silco asks slowly. The way his voice slurs startles him a bit. Perhaps he had one too many.

And perhaps not, he thinks defiantly as he brings the glass to his lips again.

It never reaches there. Sevika's good arm swats it out of his hand. His eyes widen at the sound of the shattering glass but Sevika doesn’t give him any time to react. Her hand grabs the undone front of his vest and drags him forward until their noses nearly touch.

“I would LOVE to rest, but I was just clearly promoted to someone’s mom.”

The level of impertinence makes Silco grit his teeth. He opens his mouth to answer but Sevika doesn’t give him the chance.

“I followed you for years. The things we had to all sacrifice to get where we are now… I lost my ARM protecting you. Our friends are dead. And we are good with all that but you gotta do what you promised!” She lets go and Silco has to hold on to the bar to keep himself steady.

“Look, I get it. You thought the thing with Vander was gonna go differently,” she grabs the bottle standing open at the bar and takes a swig straight out of it, “Well, shit. It didn’t. And it’s probably for the best. You needed to mourn? Fine. You did. You were moping here for a week, not talking to anyone, drunk morning to night, listening to some ghosts of the past - good. Now it’s time to pull yourself together. We have plans, remember?”

Sevika looks at him sharply. Silco stares into the hardwood of the bar. Getting scolded by a comrade isn’t something he would bite on a good day, and this certainly isn’t a good day at all, but they are alone, and Sevika is right. He knows she is. He doesn’t answer at first, gathering his words.

“Your insufferable impudence aside, I won’t deny that you’re correct. I…slacked. It has been hard for us all, Sevika.”

“No shit,” she scoffs and shakes her head, “But we can’t stop now, Silco. Vander has already stopped you once. You gonna let him do it when he’s dead too?”

He looks at her, eyes wide. She sniffles and takes another swig from the bottle.

“Mek and Ran are taking care of that kid you so graciously adopted. She needs you too, you promised her you’ll take care of her.” She sets the bottle down and turns to leave.

Silco freezes for a moment, then looks up.

"Sevika."

She turns.

He wants to ask her if this was all a mistake. If taking that heartbroken, weeping child in was the right step. He wants to tell her that he's thankful that she saved his life, and that he's sorry.

But he can't.

Sevika sighs.

"Sleep it off. In bed for once."

Silco’s head feels clearer after a week of regular work. The hangover after his talk with Sevika mostly prevents him from planning the next day, so he utilizes the time to resolve the most pressing issues. He visits Singed, who seems unaffected by his terrible burns, sets another meeting with Marcus, informs several leaders of smuggling chains who is in charge now, and meets up with Babette. No better way to control the Lanes than through the local brothel.

He visits the girl. He has barely spoken to her since that night. He learns her name is Jinx, or so she chooses to be called. She made sure to scratch over the brightly painted ‘Powder’ on the door to her and her sister’s room (completely blacking out the other name), and on the head of her bed.

He doesn’t argue. Jinx is a nice name. It has a beat to it. Sometimes, one is what they choose to be, not what others tell them they are. Silco would know a thing or two about it.

She asks about Vi. He tells her the truth and then holds her when she cries. He doesn’t know how to comfort a child so he just listens. It seems to be enough.

Jinx tells him about her nightmares. Asks if they’ll stop. He tells her they won’t. She needs to get used to them, then they won’t hurt as much. He would know about that too.

It dawns on him, suddenly, that they have much in common, and the thought that taking her in was a mistake leaves his mind, never to return.

At the end of the week, they seem to be back on track. Vander’s followers are either bought off, killed, or talked into alliances. The production of Shimmer is renewed. Silco has picked candidates for the individual business branches. The Last Drop is being refurbished into his headquarters; he claims Vander’s room as his office.

And yet, something is amiss.

No matter how much he works, Silco feels empty. Everything is as if he was under water. The meetings are dull, the progress is insignificant, the revenue means nothing.

He forgets to inject with Shimmer once or twice. The migraine the next day reminds him. He almost passes out one morning, then realizes he’s skipped food the previous day.

Vander had drowned him once before, but that time, Silco resurfaced, found his way out, and became stronger for it.

This time, Vander had drowned him thoroughly.

He knows he needs to resurface, fight his way out of this river of depression that is filling his lungs again, this time not with toxins but with despair and misery.

“How old are you even?”

The rude question raises Silco’s brow and makes him pause. He’s wrapping his right hand in thick strips of leather with a trained motion. He’s not done this for a decade, it’s just muscle memory and he’s satisfied with how well he remembers.

“Is there an age limit now? That’s news to me.” “Nah, just…you’re gonna die man.” the supervisor scoffs. He’s supposed to oversee that Silco doesn’t cheat - brass knuckles or stripes of metal covered by the bandages, hidden weapons in boots or pockets, things that would render the match unfair.

“Unlikely.”

“You a southpaw?”

Silco doesn’t reply, he finds it rather apparent. The supervisor grabs the other roll of leather and gestures to Silco to give him his left hand.

“Guess you have that goin’ for ya. You ever done this? Never seen you here.”

“No, you wouldn’t, you’re too young.” Silco sighs, watching the other man wrapping his left hand firmly.

“Hah, so you did. Took a break for a couple years?”

“I no longer needed it.” It was true.

The supervisor steps back and nods his head.

“A’right, stand up, let me check you real quick.”

Silco lifts his arms slightly to allow the man to check around his waist and down his thighs. The hard hands are tapping first one leg, then the other all the way down to his socked feet, then he checks each of his boots individually before handing them back.

“Okay, all clear, now, I just gotta tell you the rules, I don’t care if you know them already.” The supervisor blabbers off while Silco sits down and pulls his boots back on.

The rules didn’t change. Bare knuckle fight in Zaun was always the same. No eye gouging, no grabbing of genitals. No hits below the waist. No weapons. When the opponent is down, no touching. No kicking, no stomping on feet.

Hits are allowed with a closed fist only. Headbutts are allowed. The target is anywhere above the navel. Fight stops if one is unconscious, dead, or unable to continue.

There are four rounds.

The only thing that changed is the admission fee.

"Got a corner man?"

The question tears Silco out of his thoughts. He's on edge.

"What? No." Clearly. The supervisor sighs.

"Alright, I'll get you someone."

He says it as though it's a problem. That much has not changed. Fighting tooth and nail for a pitiful price to entertain a crowd of drunk sailors and miners alike, only to be seen as an animal. The reward was rarely worth it.

But Silco isn't here for the money.

The supervisor leads him into the arena. It's overwhelming even after all those years. The dark hall filled with a mass of bodies stinking of cheap alcohol and sweat, the only light shining way too bright into the center, on a cage made of scrap metal. The shoulder-high railing serves instead of ropes and one has to either crawl between the horizontal bars or climb over. The floor of the arena is a platform of hardwood, soaked with blood where the varnish chipped off.

Silco feels his guts clench at the smell and sound, the dozens of drunken voices screaming over one another, all asking for blood. It brings back memories.

Another person grabs Silco's upper arm by the entrance, a tough-looking woman much younger than him. She seems unimpressed.

"I'm gonna be your corner man." She informs him.

He blocks out the screaming crowd and climbs over the bars.

His opponent makes the entrance after his announcement. Silco missed if he had been announced or not, he wasn't paying attention. All he catches is the man's name.

Kassal.

Silco feels out of shape compared to this man. He must be a decade or so younger, thirty maybe, and he has good five or six inches in height on Silco.

None of that is an issue. The real problem is their weight difference.

Kassal must weigh at least 80 pounds more than Silco, and most of it seems to be centered in muscle.

Silco kept himself fit for all these years. The fact that his little pack sometimes had to decide between investment and food helped. He’s still as lithe, still as fit. He has never been muscular, not in the traditional way. His body seems to be carved of stone and hard ropes of tendons.

He will be likely faster than his opponent, though not as much, he might be more flexible, if it wasn’t for his age.

The one thing he has going for him is that he’s left handed.

However, it’s painfully obvious who has the advantages here.

“Good luck,” Silco’s corner girl says with a smile, “but I think you ain’t gonna win.”

Silco doesn’t think so either. But then again, he didn’t come here with a drive to win.

#arcane #silco #fic #boxing #bare knuckle fight #sevika #powder #fight #violence #whump

85 notes · View notes

chuckbass-love · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I know you only just posted it but would it be possible to request 33&36 from the prompts with Ransom please?❤️

A/N: Thank you for your patience on this one, i really hope when you read it that it was worth the wait. Also thank you for requesting in the first place, it means a lot that people ask me to write fics for them.

Prompt #33: "Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic"

Prompt #36: "You'd better watch your fucking mouth"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut! Unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, swearing, daddy kink, implied alcohol consumption and use of the word slut/degradation. 18+ everyone....

Word Count: 2,191

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @twerkforambrose go check them out 💕

Your Filthy Addiction

Five more minutes, you’re going to give that arrogant son of a bitch five more minutes before you toss the food you’d made earlier. You’ve spent all dam day slaving away in that kitchen of yours to make sure Ransom had a decent home cooked meal to come back to after a long day working with Harlan, and what does he do? He doesn’t even show up.

You might love him but if you didn’t get annoyed at least once a day with him then life wouldn’t be right. He’s always doing something to mess you around.

And today is testament to that, it’s testament to the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t help but let you down. Maybe now you’ve had enough of sitting idly by and letting him walk all over you.

So when he eventually stumbles into the house, his tipsy state as clear as day, your cage is well and truly rattled.

“Where the hell have you been?” you snap, standing in front of him with your hands placed firmly on your hips as you take in his flustered cheeks. He’s very drunk indeed, probably due to the bottomless Jameson supply at the bar across town.

You’ve tried your hardest for years ever since the night you first met Ransom to help him with his obvious drinking problem but to no avail. And now you see why your solutions to his problems never worked, it was because despite his constant complaining about said problems, he loves having just a tiny bit of conflict in his life. Mostly with his good for nothing family who only treat him like dirt. But he gives as good as he gets, always has and always will.

“I was just out with Harvey” the way his shoulders move up as he shrugs only seems to bother you all the more. His lack of care for his actions have always created issues for your relationship but this takes the cake.

To some, your pouty and bratty behaviour may seem pathetic and unnecessary, but to you it’s more than him missing dinner. It’s about the fact that he always seems to let you down, over and over.

“Oh so you prefer his company over mine then? Because i made us a lovely meal so that we could eat together after a week of not being able to and this is the thanks i get? For my so called boyfriend to be swanning off with the master of one night stands” your voice is low, your stare dark and angry, your stance even more so and he can definitely see how badly he’s fucked up.

However, if you know Ransom well enough, then you can certainly see his change in attitude coming a mile off.

“You’d better watch your fucking mouth” he barks, his finger pointed directly in your face as he stalks closer to you. You find yourself stepping back, intimidation controlling you.

“Or what? You gonna make me? Judging by the way you’ve been acting you don’t have a leg to stand on” you say matter of factly as you shake your head in disgust at his nerve. How dare he boss you around when he’s the one who’s been out of line all this time.

“Maybe i will” he pokes his chin out as he stands tall, hands by his sides. He looks awfully confident as he inches closer. His index finger slips underneath your chin as he forces you to look directly into his menacing eyes.

You feel your breath catch in this moment. The knowledge of him doing whatever he wants to do to you just because he can is causing your entire body to shiver with anticipation. Despite how he makes you feel sometimes, you’re a sucker for him and everything he does.

He says jump, you say how high.

“What?” you murmur, wanting him to use his words just like he always makes you do.

“I said, maybe i will make you. Bet you’d love that, slut” you wince at the horrid nickname. It’s moments like these when you always try your hardest to avoid thinking about how his degradation of you makes you feel, your mind is objecting but your body is giving him the green light.

How is that?

How does he always manage to do that?

Must be some kind of mind control as you absentmindedly follow him through to the kitchen, his hand barely holding onto your own.

Before you can even make sense of things, he pushes you over the kitchen counter forcefully.

His hands splay across your ass cheeks as he lifts your dress up, bunching it at your waist before yanking your ruined panties down your bare legs. Next thing you know his fingers are toying at your dripping wet hole.

“Would ya look at this...you can try all you like to act up sweetheart, but you and i both know why this cunt of yours is soaked”

There he goes again, spewing filth to get you to give up the jig. You know you have to remain strong and stable but it’s so hard to do that when he....wait! Is he inserting his fingers? Fuck, they are so thick inside of you and two already? He must be a mind reader to know how this makes you feel, he must know what gets you keening because now here you are pushing back on them like a needy little brat.

“Pushing back on my fingers already? How pathetic” he tuts, his tone mocking as he chuckles a little. Still, his fingers remain as they twist and turn inside of you, scissoring you open before he adds a third.

Fuck, this is delicious torture. The man you’re supposed to be mad at but you can’t bring yourself to be when he makes your body feel so good.

The undeniable and powerful pleasure that he provides is just too good to quit. You could never let him go even if you actively tried to which by the way, you’ve attempted it a hundred times at least.

But every time you try he just lures you back in with his sexual prowess, his high libido and those dashing good looks. His sweet talk isn’t too bad either.

When will you ever learn to strengthen yourself up and walk away? Because he’s never going to change but oh shit, the way he’s pumping his fingers in and out rapidly is enough to cause the coil in your stomach to tighten one last time.

You move to meet his fingers, hips gyrating in circular motions slowly as you reach your hand between your legs.

Of course he pushes you hand away, insisting on using his own. His thumb presses down on your pulsating clit and the breathy groans that are escaping him let you know that he can sense your impending orgasm.

“Come on, baby. Cum for daddy” he urges, rubbing firm circles on you clit as his fingers curl inside of you, pushing against that spongy spot deep within. The one that will have you seeing stars in, 3...2...1.

“FUCK RANSOM” you scream out, hands gripping the kitchen counter so hard that it turns your knuckles white, his fingers continue to drive into you over and over as he rides you through your intense high.

“That’s my girl, just like that. Let go, baby” you can hear the smirk in his voice, the smugness he feels knowing that yet again he’s prevented you from walking away.

He’s convinced you to stay just by pleasuring you with his filthy touch, his sinful thick digits.

You may be weak, but with a man this good, a man capable of making your pretty little pussy cum over and over, why would you want to be anything else?

As soon as you come down from the high, you stand up, straightening your posture as you turn around to face him. The proud look covering his face lets you know that it’s all a game to him.

You pull your dress back down so that it’s covering up your modesty before pulling your panties up.

“What’s wrong, sad eyes?” he pokes, his hands resting either side of the counter, caging you in.

“You know what. You can’t just keep using sex to keep me around, Ransom” you huff in defeat, bothered by your lack of strong will.

“Sure i can, and what’s more, you’re gonna enjoy it too” he raises his eyebrows as he spins you back around, keeping your back arched by yanking your head backwards.

Every inch of your skin turns to gooseflesh as he trails his finger down the curve of your back before reaching your tail bone and pushing your dress up. He undoes the belt around his slacks before popping open the button and slipping them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection from its tight confines.

He slips your arousal covered panties to the side before smothering his eager red tip in your mouth watering pussy juices. Once he catches on your entrance he slams inside of you, but before you can jerk forward he hooks his arm into both of yours as he holds them behind you firmly.

You can never leave him, even if you truly wanted to, you’re stuck in an ongoing loop of orgasms and rough sex.

A frantic whimper slips off your tongue as his pace now renders on animalistic, hard and fast, just the way you both like it.

Of course the real pleasure comes from the slow and hard thrusts, the ones where he gently pokes at your g spot as he lays on top of you. Your legs wrapped around him, his face in the crook of your neck. But now is not the time for gentle and slow, now is the time for rushed and needy.

He’s desperate to achieve that orgasm just as much as he is to provide one for you. To feel your legs shaking as your head lulls back to rest on his chest, eyes rolling to the back of your head, it’s something he can never and will never get enough of. The way your walls are clamping down on him right now should be illegal as he can feel his balls tighten with the impending release.

“Fuck. Keep tightening those walls baby, let yourself go. Just. One. Last. Time” his voice desperate as his breathing turns ragged, matching yours. Your chest starts to rise and fall before your head falls back to rest on his chest just like he loves. He can feel your entire body tremble in his hold as he loosens his grip and pushes you over the counter.

“Gonna fucking cum, deep inside of this pussy. Gonna fill you up with my cum, baby” he growls, his voice deeper than before. He’s so painfully close, as are you.

And as you flutter around him one last time, he spills his load inside of you, causing you to stand up onto your tip toes with your head pressed into the marble counter.

He paints your walls with thick white ropes before twitching as he slows down his thrusts, then he stills his hips.

All that can be heard in this kitchen is heavy panting before the sound of your pussy squelching as he pulls out distracts you. He pulls his slacks back up, making quick work of his zip, button and belt whilst you toss your panties into the hamper by the laundry room and pull your dress back down before heading up to your bedroom.

New panties are a must.

“Now do you get it?” he asks, leaning on the open doorway to your room and causing you to turn and face him once your fresh panties are on.

“Get what?”

“Your mine and you always will be, until i say otherwise” he states, shocking you.

“I’m not your property, Ransom”

“Oh but you are, those soaked panties in that hamper prove it. So get used to it, because you’re never leaving me, especially not now”

You’re well and truly fucked... held captive by his intoxicating smell, intimidating demeanour and his undeniable skills in the bedroom.

Guess you should have known from the day you first met Hugh Ransom Drysdale that you’d never make it out alive if you were to run.

But the real question is, do you even want to leave him? He’s everything you detest but still you stay and continue to crave more of him.

And the answer to that question would be no, no you wouldn't want to leave.

He may be a prick, an arrogant asshole and a cocky son of a bitch but he is an addiction...your filthy addiction, and you wouldn’t have it or him any other way.

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

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferous @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @candlefics @yassspose @randomsevans @fanficforfun

Just Chris & Characters Tags: @onetwo3000 @sheofthegarden @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @mrsbbarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina @janeyboo @evansphnx12 @dwights-new-plague @whxre4cevans @cherry-gemz @chvntelle-99

LMK if you want to be added to my tag list...

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #hugh ransom drysdale #knives out #smut #fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans x female reader #reader inserts #x fem!reader #x female reader #x reader #request

330 notes · View notes

complicatedandstained · 3 years ago

Text

Nightmare

You tell Axel about the hallucinations, and he ruffles your hair between the horns and cups your cheek and calls them Nightmares. “You ought to know all about them, Roxas, living here.”

You’ve walked together outside of the Halloween Town proper and into the local graveyard, pausing to talk on a bench barely distinguishable from the headstones.

“How do I make them stop?” you ask, and he doesn’t quite succeed at trying not to laugh, but it’s the sad kind. You’re all too familiar with that now.

“They’re just a part of being human, I guess. Well,” he flicks at one of your horns. "Human-ish."

Your brows bounce. “You have them too, then?” He seems too put together for it, though he’s always insisting that he’s not. “Sure.” His expression hardens, and you see his jaw working, his lip twitching, fighting for a softer look. “Sometimes. Even had a couple in the Organization, eventually.” He manages the smile. “Dreamt they shrunk me down and put me in a bird cage in Saïx’s office. Only fed me sea salt ice cream bars.

"Spent all my time swinging on the perch bar and looking out the closest window at the lightning storms and neon lights—screaming my lungs out.” He pauses, shakes his head. Emerald eyes dart down to you, more serpentine than his regular ones, lip quirking, “Funny, right?”

You shake your head back at him, your fingers knotting in front of you. “I don’t really think so.”

“Teensy tiny little ice cream bars, though.” He pinches his fingers together, and his jaw goes slack. He reaches up to ruffle his own hair, and looks away from you, to the far side of the graveyard, where the stones are weathered and hardest to read. “Yeah. Okay. Probably funnier in my head.” He laughs again but it’s cold.

You are not feeling reassured. The only comfort is that he is warm and solid in the morning chill, sitting with his leg pressed to yours. “There has to be some way to stop them. I’m not…” Your finger drags beneath your eye at the deep violet shadow you’re sure is painted there.

“Oh, Roxas,” he winces. Hadn’t realized it was so bad, you guess. He tilts his head. “Well, really it all depends. What are they about?”

You stare back. Your mouth feels stuck like a door with no handle. They tell you your people skills are deficient, Who’s wouldn’t be, they sympathize, being raised by criminals, but you’re pretty sure there’s no good way to tell someone you dream about their death—heartless clawing every inch of them and dragging them down until they are just a wet, glittering red organ floating skyward. You wake up in a cold sweat and call out for him, or Xion, or Sora.

He realizes you aren’t going to tell him, coughs to split the tension in the foggy air. “Well, I can think of a couple people who might have some ideas.”

Sally makes tea as Jack waxes poetic about the healthy benefits of a good fright. He retells some of his own most bone chilling nightmares, and you have to admit you don’t want those either.

You do not tell Jack and Sally what yours are about, but Sally’s frown deepens when she looks at you, watches you stirring milk into your oolong, your spoon rattling too sharply against the ceramic.

“Sometimes,” she says when Jack pauses to take a sip of his own brew, “nightmares have something to teach us. But sometimes, it’s just as important to have the right person to face our fears with. Someone to hold us tight when the lights go out and remind us they aren't going anywhere.”

“And,” Jack nods, “that when things go horribly wrong, there’s always a way to set things right.”

Jack and Sally share a knowing smile and squeeze their hands together, cloth and bone.

Axel rises from his chair and wraps strong, sturdy, warm arms around your chest. “I’m right here for you, Roxas.” He squeezes too tightly, and you laugh and push at him with your shoulder, but he holds firm. “I’m right here.”

#kingdom hearts #halloween #tnbc #roxas #axel #lea #jack skellington #sally the ragdoll #chilltobember #week 4: nightmare #my writing

22 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

Nice to Meet You

For @boxboysandotherwhump - Theo chose soft!Jameson, so here he is! @wildfaewhump gave me the three-word prompt “Space, shell, fair” for Jameson.

CW: Recovering pet whumpees, referenced past torture, scars, referenced dubcon/noncon, briefly referenced past dehumanization, consensual angst, fluff

When he opens the closet door, intending to press himself into his safe spot with his back to the corner, blocked by the boxes, he discovers Allyn is already there.

For a moment, his mind goes blank.

They look up at him and wince as the light cuts into the warm, velvet dark they were hiding in. Their long wavy hair hangs over their eyes, impossibly long legs bent until their knees are under their chin in the oversized sweatpants, gray eyes looking up at him, startled.

They’re more afraid of you than you are of them, whispers Nanda’s voice in his mind, soft and sweet as custard, the first owner, the one who took him on hunting trips where he had him sleep with the dogs and cut a line into the back of his thigh for every animal he slaughtered. All his memories of Nanda are grays tinged in blood - the gray of the sky, of Nanda’s eyes, the red of the bloodhounds, the drips that followed him across the floor.

Nanda also taught him about bears, while they moved through the woods. They’re more afraid of you than you are of them, boy. Vanilla custard, but held on the edge of a sharp knife, metallic under pillowy cloying sweetness. Nanda’s words always felt like blood in his mouth, spoonfed.

Allyn isn’t a bear - but they are definitely afraid.

“Why-” His voice cracks, shock of earthquake through ice on his tongue, and he considers simply closing the door and walking away. Allyn is his roommate, not his friend. He doesn’t have friends, none of them have real friends. Just other people also suffering nearby. Finally, though, he opens the door just a little wider. “Why are you in here?”

Allyn shakes their head, and it’s only then Jameson realizes their hair is uncombed, hanging lank and limp and lifeless, which Allyn’s hair never does. Their lips tremble, no perfect fucking party smile in place like usual, as they cringe back from him. No pretty blouse, no pretty anything. Just pale and shadowed, freckles standing out like someone stuck them on. “I-I’m sorry, I just… just needed-... a, a minute t-to breathe, I’m sorry-”

“This is my fucking space, Allyn. Yours is under the bed, so… go be under the bed.” His voice isn’t as rough and mean as he wants it to be, but it’s maybe mean enough - they sniff, and he sees their eyes glitter with tears.

His anger melts under something he tells himself isn’t guilt, and he exhales, slowly, before he moves to a crouch. He doesn’t like being loomed over, so they probably hate it, too, right? He’s had too many motherfuckers stare down at him in his cages. He stays that way in silence, right at their eye level, cocking his head as they breathe, wondering what color their eyes really are.

“I’m sorry,” They whisper, and he can see the shift of their oversized sweatshirt, three days past needing a wash. This isn’t like Allyn at all. Have they been like this for days, and he didn’t notice?

Well, why he fuck should he notice, they’re not friends, and Allyn is in his space, the only space in his entire life that’s all his and isn’t ringed in bars to put him on display-

No.

It’s not their fault, they’re upset, and the darkness of the closet is safer than anywhere else. You can hide in closets, he understands why they’re here. He forces down his irritation, and takes in the miserable worry in their eyes.

“Shit. Allyn, it’s... I don’t mean to be an ass, I just-... uh, what made you… need a minute? Exactly?” He should call for the big guy who runs this place, it’s his whole job to handle moments like this, but he can’t quite make it happen. Instead, he finds the voice he wants to be sharp is softer, his words feel like the heat of a kiss he actually wants, taste sweeter than any kiss he’s ever actually had.

They’re more scared of you than you are of them.

“Um, I-I was-... I was thinking… about… him.” The poison in the love in their voice is all in Jameson’s head, but he feels it seep into all his scars anyway. Acid, that him. Too much pineapple burning his tongue. They’re lucky to have had an owner they could love. Luckier still, to have one who loved them back.

Luckiest of all, to have an owner who wanted them to be happy.

Unluckiest, though, to get chucked out with the fucking garbage when the asshole died and they weren’t in his will. It’s not fair, but it’s fucking life, isn’t it? And in the end, which one of them is luckier? Him, for knowing it was suffering the whole time - or them, for having the chance to believe it was anything else?

“You miss him.” Flat, crash of knives on the ground, the clink and rattle and smack of their handles. Allyn only hears the words. He is starting to realize words feel inside him differently than they do to others.

Allyn nods, and the glitter of tears spills finally out.

He wants to touch their face - he doesn’t.

“I-I do,” They whisper. “I know I sh-sh-shouldn’t, but I… I do. I’m sorry, I know that you don’t-... that you weren’t-”

“Yeah, well.” He waves a hand, dismissive. The scars on his back and legs feel stretched, when he crouches like this, balances on the balls of his feet. He can feel the skin pull at itself, numbed but still here. Couldn’t kill me, motherfuckers, how about that? I’m still here, and three of you are gone. You’re just fucking corpses and your little blow-up doll with a heartbeat is still here. “You’re hurting worse than I am now, so I guess we’re sort of even.”

“I just… I can’t-...” Allyn’s voice buckles under the weight of their emotions, it shatters. Jameson tastes blood from the glass and watches Allyn lift their hands to hide behind them. Long fingers, delicate and graceful, even in this. Nails filed to perfect roundness. His own fingers are nothing special, two of them on his right hand broken until they don’t bend quite right anymore. He didn’t have to have perfect hands. He barely escaped Robert getting to keep his hands at all, and that was only because he was pretty fucking good at using them.

“I can’t live without him,” Allyn whimpers, muffled and thick. “I feel like… like I was made empty for him to fill up, and h-he’s gone, I can’t-... live without him, I can’t-”

He swallows the glass of their grief, buries it inside him. Wonders if he’ll ever know how it feels to give a shit what happened to the assholes who hurt him. What would it be like, to actually feel bad about the deaths?

“You can,” He says, low-voiced, and shifts forward into the closet, settling himself down and closing the door until only the thinnest crack of light can break up their safer darkness. Barely the width of a wire, the light illuminates nothing, only reminds them it’s there. He listens to the soft inhale, slower exhale, of the person beside him. Their presence is a weight, in his safest places, and his nerves are alight with how fragile it is, to have anywhere at all, how easily ruined by someone intruding. He clears his throat, uncertain, unused to being one to give comfort. More used to ignoring its existence. “You, um. You can live without them, I fucking swear it, Allyn. I lived without all of mine, for a while, ‘fore the next one caught me, or bought me.”

He hears rustling, and tilts his head just slightly to see them looking at him. They’re pale, but he is, too, a duller washed-out color from lack of sunlight for so long. Their freckles look like constellations, the stars he would stare at through Robert’s window in the dark. He notes, absently, that they damn near have a Little Dipper along their left cheekbone. “But-... but you didn’t love them… did you?”

He decides he sort of likes their voice. It slips into his mind, subtle sweetness, maple syrup but thinner. Weaker, but maybe it could be strong.

With time.

He swallows, speaking gruffly to cover up the strange twist of emotion. “No, I-... no. I didn’t love ‘em, but… but you keep going, you know? You’ll do it, too. I’m not… fuck, I’m not good for this. I wasn’t ever supposed to talk, so I’m not… super good at it now. Being, um. Like, helping… with words.” His voice is thick tar on his tongue, colored by his embarrassment.

But he tries.

There’s a silence, and he leans over, until his shoulder just touches theirs. Allyn tenses and then relaxes, and they sit like that for a while, listening to each other breathe.

Allyn’s head comes to rest on his shoulder, and he finds he doesn’t mind the weight.

“I’m so tired of being sad,” They whisper.

“Yeah, I’m-... sorta tired of being pissed off, myself.” He huffs a laugh. Then he feels Allyn’s hand - cold, slender, long-fingered - find his own, warmer and scarred. “Feels like we’re just empty seashells that get filled up with whatever the water brings, huh?”

“That… that sounds really pretty,” Allyn says softly. “Do you think pretty things a lot?”

“No. Most of my thoughts are really fucking ugly.” He manages another humorless laugh. “I guess I can surprise you, huh.”

“In more ways than one.”

“What?”

“I saw what you wrote on the wall,” Allyn murmurs, and they shift their head, breath warm on the side of his neck, where his collar is. Or isn’t. For a second, he can’t remember if he’s wearing it or not. He takes his off, sometimes. When he can. More and more often, as the days turns into weeks here.

“You did?” He closes his eyes, not that it makes much difference. They don’t let go of his hand. There is movement, out in the hall, in the rest of the house, but for the second, he and Allyn are alone.

“Mmhmm. You can read and write? Did your owner let you?”

It’s a secret he’s kept inside him for so long. It’s so hard to give it away, now. “I… no, none of them knew I could. When they took it from me, it… didn’t work. I never lost it.”

“Oh.” They’re silent for a moment. Their breath is warm, and despite himself, he feels a nervous flip of his stomach, his hair standing on end. It’s something trapped between fear and want, and it’s unlike any fear or want he’s ever felt before. “What did you write, on the wall?”

He could tell them anything. He could lie.

He tells the truth. “I wrote out our names. All of us. Um. The, Jake, and… his people. Eli, Nova, Sarita, um, Allyn…”

“Did you write yours?”

He lets his head gently fall back to rest against the wall. His heart might break out of him, bleed all over the floor. A different kind of bleeding, a kind that he sort of wants, even though he doesn’t. “Um. Yeah, I… yeah.”

“What is it?” They don’t move their head, they don’t let go of his hand. “What’s your name?”

He shouldn’t tell them.

It’s been his secret for so, so long. But… fuck, he’s so tired of secrets.

“Jameson,” He says, and it’s the taste of air just before rain, a chill breeze on a blistering day. His name, the one he gave himself. “I’m-... my name is Jameson.”

They’re quiet for a second, and then say, softly, “Nice to meet you, Jameson.”

It sounds better, in Allyn’s voice.

Everything does.

---

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @astrobly @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump

154 notes · View notes

tahitianmangoes · 4 years ago

Text

The Beast in Me - Chapter One

Pairing(s): GN!Reader/Arthur Morgan (Minor: John/Abigail, Kieran/Mary-Beth)

Summary: You never thought you'd be heading home to the ranch but after your father passed away and leaves the ranch to you, that's exactly where you find yourself. Nothing much has changed about Strawberry or the surrounding areas since you left... Apart from the rumours that there's something lurking in the woods. Something that isn't an animal at all...

Tags/triggers: Werewolf AU, Not canon compliant, gender neutral reader, mild gore, mild horror

Notes: All 3 parts available on AO3

The beast in me Is caged by frail and fragile bars Restless by day And by night rants and rages at the stars

****

You had never cared for scary stories, ghosts, ghouls and the like. You weren’t scared of things that go bump in the night and didn’t believe in the local gossip of creatures that would snatch up children who played too far from the town or strange sounds from the mountains. Ghosts and ghouls didn’t exist. People do.

****

Daddy had never really been the same since mama passed. He took it hard, real hard. You visited him twice a year if you could find the time but he wasn’t the same man who had raised you.

Maybe a part of him died when your mama had. And now the rest of him had died too.

Consumption, the doctor had said over the telephone; he’d hidden it pretty well from you, just telling you that it was the cold getting to his chest and you’d believed him or maybe you had wanted to. You knew he hadn’t wanted to worry you. The doctor said he had passed in his sleep. The ranch hand had found him the next day. It had been peaceful, apparently. You sure hoped so.

So you quit your job in Saint Denis and took the long train ride back home. Autumn in Lemoyne was very different to that of West Elizabeth. The days were still hot, the sun seemed merciless sometimes but as the train rattled into Riggs Station, it felt like you were in a different country. Night was drawing in already; it always seemed to draw in faster out west. You could feel the chill of wind that swirled around your feet and the few leaves left on the trees rustled melancholically.

There was no one else left on the train by now, most people had gotten off at Valentine so only you headed into the wood cabin that was the station, a far cry from the bustling Saint Denis station.

The clerk was busy lighting lanterns as you had walked in but he greeted you all the same. “Good evenin’. Can I help you?” “Yeah,” you replied, “do you know when the stagecoach will arrive?” “Arrive?” The clerk repeated, sounding confused as he went back behind the counter. “Well it just left not fifteen minutes ago.” You sighed before asking when the next one would come. “Not til tomorrow mornin’ I’m afraid. Where do you need to go?” “You know White Bison Ranch?” “Sure, I know it - out by Little Creek River... Wait! Are you takin’ the place over?” You nodded. You’d hoped to get there before it got too late but it looked like that wouldn’t be happening now, the sky was already bleeding black, like ink onto parchment. “Well I’m sorry, there won’t be nothin’ til the mornin’.”

“I could take ya.”

The new voice made you turn, startled. There was a man sitting inside the cabin that you hadn’t noticed. He stood as he spoke to you. “I can take you as far as Strawberry if that helps?” “It’s certainly better than sleeping here tonight.” You replied and he smiled. The man was tall and slender, his hair dark and down past his collar, his eyes a glittering hazel and kind. The left side of his face was scarred, as if he had been in an animal attack but it didn't make him any less handsome. He held out his hand to you. “John Marston.” You shook his hand and reciprocated his greeting with your name. “I’m waitin’ on a delivery from Blackwater, shouldn’t take too long now then we can get you to Strawberry.” He told you. Just as he said that, a wagon pulled up and a man hopped down, “Mr Marston? I have the medicines you ordered.” “Thanks,” John said gruffly, taking the parcel from the man almost furtively. You followed John Marston around the side of the cabin to where his buggy was. He put the parcel in the back then helped you with your luggage and then you got up on the buggy with him.

You made your way to Strawberry, the buggy trundled along the uneven road that you hadn’t been down in such a long time. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.” John said, “he was a kind man. Me and my boy, Jack helped him out with the lambing just this spring gone by.”

“Thank you... “ you replied. You felt guilty that you hadn’t been there to help; once upon a time it would have been you to help with the lambing though you remembered being squeamish at the sight when you were younger. You weren't no rancher, at least you thought you weren't. As soon as you had reached eighteen, you had left home in search of a better life and more money than what a dairy could get you. You’d headed for the bright lights if Saint Denis, not only was it as far away from the ranch you’d grown up on physically but in every other sense. The people of Saint Denis were nothing like those of Strawberry or the surrounding areas and you liked that.

You never thought you'd be going back like this but of course you had known your daddy couldn't keep on at it forever. You were the sole benefactor of the ranch and everything he had worked for his entire life… Which wasn’t a lot but it was enough for you to be able to leave your job in Saint Denis and come back home.

Home.

It felt alien. Yet as you neared Strawberry, nothing had changed that you could see. All the buildings and the people… Everything looked the way it had the day you had left.

When you reached the Strawberry hotel, Mr Marston stopped the buggy. “Here we are. I wish I could extend my hospitality to you more but I have to get home. I got my boy and my wife and my brother… He ain’t a well man and I need to help take care of him... We own the stables just outside o’ Strawberry, maybe when you’re settled in you could stop by?” “I’d like that very much. You’ve been very kind, thank you Mr Marston.” You got down from the buggy and so did he, he helped you with your luggage again before tipping his hat to you, bidding you good night and riding away.

The hotel was warm, walls were deep burgundy and a large fire was cracking in the main room, casting large, looming shadows. You weren’t keen on the taxidermied animals that were displayed everywhere, a buck, a mountain lion and most prominently a large grizzly bear that stood behind the main doors, staged reared on its hind legs with a mean look on its face.

The clerk was friendly enough and luckily there was a room available for you. “You came from Saint Denis, you say?” The clerk asked as he helped you upstairs with your luggage and showed you to your room. “That must have been one hell of a journey. Why don’t I get a bath ready for you?” “Sounds good,” you smiled.

The bath was hot and just what you needed after a long day’s travel. Once cleaned and dressed, you headed back downstairs to see if the hotel offered food. The clerk told you they did and you ordered and waited towards the back of the main room which now had candles on every table.

Towards the front of the room were two well dressed women sitting across from each other on plush sofas smoking and talking. “You tell me then, Willamina - What did Mr Jones see when he was out night fishin’ at Owanjila Lake?” One said a little hotly to the other. The one called Willamina laughed, “Mr Jones was three sheets to the wind, Francesca. He probably saw a wild boar or a buck and tried to save face when he came tearin’ back into town, scared like a little kid to his momma! What was it he said? Eight feet tall? Red eyes? Claws as long as butcher knives?!” Francesca bristled, “well, you won’t catch me going into the woods on my own, that’s for sure!”

“And rightly so, Miss Alehart,” came a man's drawling voice.

You’d been looking away, staring at the front of a newspaper that had been left on the table pretending to read it but really, listening in on their conversation but now you looked up. A man you couldn’t say you’d noticed had joined them, hovering by the sofas. He was tall, dressed in black aside from his hat which was cream, maybe in his early forties and had scraggly blond hair.

“You shouldn't go into them woods without precautions.” He told Francesca and Willamina, speaking each syllable of the word precautions quite deliberately as he reached down to his gun belt and drew his revolver quickly, aiming at the taxidermied bear in the foyer and mimed shooting it, “ya never know what's a-lurkin' out there… waitin’ for you…”

“Oh Mr Bell!” Willamina exclaimed, “don’t be so dramatic.” “Oh I ain’t being dramatic,” Mr Bell replied, his voice low and almost taking on a sultry tone. “The things I’ve seen out there,” he said gesturing to the door of the hotel, “why... It would make your blood run cold. O’ course, I could always help keep you safe… if you ever needed protection’.”

You could feel the atmosphere turning very awkward very quickly. You glanced over again. The two women had gotten to their feet “We’ll let you know if we ever need a man of your specimen to protect us, Mr Bell. Good evening.” Willamina said coldly. With that, they left the hotel.

Mr Bell didn’t seem too concerned and chuckled to himself. You were aware of his icy blue eyes on you from under the brim of his hat but you ignored him. At that moment, the clerk appeared with your dinner and you made small talk with him to keep Mr Bell at bay.

****

The next morning you took the stagecoach to the ranch where you were due to meet Kieran Duffy, the ranch hand who had been helping your daddy out over the last few years. It felt strange coming back to the ranch after all this time. You remembered the trail as if it were only last week that you had ridden it, even some of the trees seemed the same and the way the trail dipped here and there had a comforting familiarity about it.

The stagecoach pulled up to the mouth of the ranch and Kieran almost ran out to greet you. He was a skinny man, with wide, light eyes peering out beneath the wide brim of his hat. He shook your hand enthusiastically, “your daddy was always talkin’ bout you. It’s a shame you didn’t get to be with him in the end… proud man your daddy, didn’t even want to accept my help even when he couldn’t walk but three steps without needin’ to rest!”

Maybe Kieran could see that he’d been a little insensitive because his eyes widened further still. “I… I uh… He was peaceful at the end.” The doctor had told you that much. You smiled weakly at Kieran, aware that it may come off as more of a grimace. He did his best to smile back. “Why don’t I show you round? Must have changed a bit since you was last here.”

It hadn’t, it really hadn’t. The house and barn still looked the same, even down to the same white paint peeling from the exterior. Kieran showed you the animals, sheep and a few dairy cows and around the back were chickens. "Mr Watson Jr from the general store comes by on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays to collect eggs and milk,” Kieran explained.

By the side of the house was a small stable with a couple of horses inside, a palomino morgan named Cash and a black and white appaloosa called Domino. “They’re both fine horses. Cash is better for shorter distances but Domino is better for longer hauls and doesn't scare so easily,” Kieran said, patting them both fondly on the muzzle before giving each a sugar cube.

Sat on the porch was a fawn coloured chesapeake bay retriever who perked up when it saw Kieran approach. “This is Bran, he’s real good at keepin’ foxes and greedy coyotes away from the chickens.” Bran barked playfully at this, as if he understood what Kieran was saying. Kieran leaned down to scratch the dog behind the ear before looking back up at you and swallowing, “uh… I... Maybe you’d wanna take a look in the house by yourself?” You nodded at him. “Thank you, Mr Duffy.”

That smell. The scent of home knocked all the air out of your lungs and filled you from top to bottom and edge to edge. Autumn leaves, wood shavings, something warm that you couldn’t quite place. Home. Your home. The home you had grown up in and then eventually left.

It was silent inside. Still. You could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. Outside Bran barked again. You felt comforted yet also like you shouldn’t be there, like a trespasser. Your fingertips glided along the wooden bannister as you ascended the stairs and looked in your old bedroom. A knot formed in your chest when you saw that it had been left exactly the way it had been when you left for Saint Denis almost six year ago. Your bed was freshly made, as if it had been expecting you to come back some day. And now you had.

You swallowed as you crept back down the corridor and towards your parents room; the room the doctor had informed you that daddy had passed in and the same room mama had passed in eleven years prior to that. For one fleeting second, you thought, maybe you would die in here too. You shook the thought away. Silly.

The windows of the bedroom were open and the cold breeze ripped through the room so much so that you shivered. Folding your arms across your chest, you went back downstairs and outside to Kieran who offered to help you unpack.

You soon discovered that Kieran Duffy was a kind and sweet man. He lived just outside of Strawberry with his wife. He talked about her a lot, real proud of her, said her name was Mary-Beth and that she wrote novels. You were glad of his chatter, the noise filled the house and it felt less empty. Soon enough however, the night was drawing in again and he told you he had to head home.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, an element of a question in the statement, “that is if you still need me to help out with the animals and such?” “Mr Duffy, what I know about caring for these animals can be written on a cigarette box. Of course I want you to come back tomorrow!” Kieran’s boyish face lit up and he smiled, “then I’ll be here bright and early. Good night.”

Kieran mounted his own horse, a flaxen Tennessee Walker and trotted down the path of the ranch and into the woods out of sight.

You managed to get a fire going in hearth in the living room, the crackling was comforting and reminded you of when you were little; you’d sit on daddy’s knee while mama embroidered and he would read to you - all sorts of stories about princesses and princes, about magical fairies or witches and people who lived on the other side of the world who spoke completely different languages. When you settled yourself in front of the fire, Bran padded over and lay down. He gave a big sigh and fell asleep. You smiled, “me too, boy, ” you said to him quietly, “me too.” **** Maybe you’d become too accustomed to the city. The wheels of wagons and horses hooves clattering on stone paths, people shouting and calling to each other and the whistle departing trains was something you could, and regularly did, sleep through but the silence of the woods was too loud. Eerie and almost frightening. You tossed and turned in your old bed, unable to drift off into a sleep that lasted more than fifteen minutes. Outside you could hear elks crying and the creaking of the trees that swayed in the wind. Animals chirped and screamed and you were reminded of those times that you were afraid as a child. You used to go into your parents room and whimper, “I’m scared..!” Your mama would laugh, “don’t be silly, sweet thing. You’re safe in here with mama and daddy.” She’d send you back to your room and you’d curl up under your blanket with your eyes squeezed tight shut, somehow the sounds from outside were louder than before. But you knew your mother must be right, she always was. You were safe inside.

It was around three o’clock in the morning when you awoke to a sound. This time it was different. It wasn’t just the scurrying of an opossum or a racoon, not even a coyote. You found yourself compelled to swing your legs out of bed, bare feet found the cold wooden floor and you walked across the room to look out of the window so you could see the rest of the ranch.

The animals were in the barn so the fields were empty. You could see the fence and the opening of the ranch, you could just make out the trail past that but the looming trees beyond that made it impossible for you to make out anything else. Maybe a flicker between the branches but maybe that was your eyes. You were tired.

You couldn’t hear the noise now, wasn’t even sure what you had thought you might see. Maybe a fox or even a wolf. You remembered there being all sorts of animals when you were younger, you’d even seen a bear running across one of the fields early one morning after daddy forgot to take in some honey mama had ordered from the general store.

Maybe you’d dreamed it. It had been a long few days. You lay back down but didn’t sleep until the sun began to filter its way through the window.

****

Kieran was a great help. You had milked the cows before but even then it was something your daddy and the ranch hands dealt with more than you. You collected the eggs and fed the chickens while Kieran milked the cows and mucked out the barn. You felt bad but he said he didn’t mind, it’s good honest work and the barn wouldn’t muck itself. You supposed he was right.

“Say, Mr Duffy,” you said to him once he was done and the pair of you sat on the porch together drinking lemonade that you had made that morning for lack of being able to sleep, “you said Bran took care of the foxes, right?” “He sure does,” Kieran replied. “Just foxes?” Kieran half shrugged, half nodded, “sometimes coyotes. He had a cougar once but I think that was a fluke… He’s good with pests, too. Rats and the like.” “Ever anything… bigger?” You asked cautiously. Kieran thought for a moment, “I can’t say so.” His large eyes met yours, “you worried about the animals at night?” He asked, “'cause that barn is secure, I swear it. Mr Marston from the stables and his brother came and did a fine job with it. It was half fallen down before then!” You nodded. “Well it's comin’ into winter soon,” Kieran said thoughtfully, “so yer won’t have to worry so much ‘bout the likes of bears - not that you see ‘em that often no more down this way. All these new ranches and houses goin’ up... The bears have gone further into the mountains. They’s more scared of us than we is o’ them.”

You nodded. You supposed that much was probably true. You also supposed that you had just been tired the night before.

Even so, it didn’t stop you from taking daddy’s old rifle down from above the fireplace. It was rusted and looked a little worse for wear. You’d never shot a gun before, never really had to but maybe it would give you peace of mind to have a gun ready. Just in case.

The next day, you rode Cash into Strawberry, your daddy’s rifle stowed on the side of Cash’s saddle. You'd forgotten how pretty of a town Strawberry was, like something drawn on a postcard. You hitched Cash outside the general store, you remembered coming here with your mama when you were younger and buying the groceries. The store had been run by an old man named Mr Watson and sure enough when you entered the store he was standing behind the counter, like he had never left. To say you were surprised to see him was an understatement; he had seemed impossibly old when you still lived in Strawberry and now he seemed even older.

He was speaking to another man who stood at the counter, “here’s everythin’ you ordered Mr Morgan. It’s good to see you out and about again, you feelin’ better now?” My Morgan, who still had his back to you, shifted awkwardly; he was a tall man, his back and shoulders broad, you could see that he wore his sandy coloured hair long. “Yeah,” he replied gruffly. “And how’s the rest of the family? Mr and Mrs Marston? And little Jack?” Mr Watson asked, smiling kindly at Mr Morgan. “Fine.” Mr Morgan replied rather bluntly. “Well you take care now,” Mr Watson said as he handed Mr Morgan his items, “come back soon, I do enjoy our chats.”

Mr Morgan permitted himself a laugh at this, short and more of a bark. The effort made him cough, though. He turned from Mr Watson, covering his mouth as he coughed. It sounded bad and you found yourself wincing as a visceral reaction. His eyes met yours, brightest blue, like the skies of your childhood summers. He was handsome enough, his features angular yet not unapproachable.

“‘Scuse me,” he apologised to you, not making eye contact and moved away from the counter. Mr Watson greeted you then his eyes widened, “my my! Is that who I think it is? Last time I saw you… Well it’s been years!” He beamed at you, “you back to take over the ranch?” He asked and you nodded. “I am so sorry ‘bout your daddy. Fine man, he was. He’ll be sorely missed.” “Thank you, Mr Watson.” “What can I do for you?” “I was hoping you could help me with this…” You put the rifle on the counter. “It belonged to daddy, I think it’s pretty old but I just need it to shoot.” Mr Watson’s white eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “my word,” he chuckled, “I don’t think I’ve seen one of these since the war. Sure don’t make ‘em like they used to! You’re right, it certainly is an old rifle indeed… I don’t think I stock the cartridges for this particular model any more, I’m afraid.” You sighed. “You could always try the gunsmith over in Valentine,” Mr Watson suggested. Valentine was at least the best part of a day’s ride away. It seemed like an awfully long way to go in the hope that the gunsmith there might have the right cartridges for daddy’s old rifle…

“Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearin’...” It was Mr Morgan, he had been checking through the parcel Mr Watson had handed him. You turned to look at him, able to search his face now. His complexion was ashen and while his eyes were certainly striking, they were also bleary. He looked exhausted. “Can I see the rifle? I might have what you need. You passed the rifle to Mr Morgan who inspected it. “Could do with some cleanin’,” he muttered to himself, “but it ain’t in too bad condition…” His voice was low and rough but has a strange kind of softness to it.

He looked up at you, eyes an arresting contrast to his pallid skin. “I reckon I might have some cartridges lyin’ ‘round if you want ‘em?” “Really? That’d be mighty helpful of you.” “I’d be glad to help you out. Your daddy was a good man. I’m Arthur Morgan by the way.” He extended his hand and you shook it, introducing yourself. “I got a few errands to run but I could always stop by the ranch this afternoon if that’s ok with you?” Arthur suggested. “I’d really appreciate that, thank you Mr Morgan.” He smiled at you now and his face changed, he looked lighter, younger, eyes crinkled at the corners. You smiled back. “Then I’ll see you this afternoon.”

You picked up a few things from the store before leaving. Once outside you packed Cash’s saddle bags and fed him a carrot in preparation for the ride back to the ranch.

“Didn't I see you in the hotel the other night?” The voice made you start and you couldn’t help but gasp and recoil away at the man who stood behind you; he had blood slicked all over his hands, down his jacket and even some flecks on his face. You recognised the face, the ice blue eyes and the straw-like blond hair.

“Didn’t mean t’ startle ya. The name’s Micah Bell, I was in the hotel the other night and remember seein’ ya. You takin’ over the White Bison ranch?” You nodded hesitantly. “I’m sorry.” Micah Bell said though he didn’t sound the least bit apologetic, “I’ve been out huntin’ y’see," gesturing to the blood all over him. “That’s the game, huntin’. You saw the bear in the hotel foyer? I killed that one. Supply almost all the meat here in Strawberry, too.” You nodded again, not sure what to say to him. You unhitched Cash and began to walk him away from the store, towards the north exit of Strawberry. Micah followed.

“So you’re up at White Bison Ranch, huh?” He asked you, speeding up to match your pace. You nodded a third time. “How you findin’ it out there on your own?” Your brows knitted together slightly into a frown, “just fine.” You replied a little bluntly. “I’m only askin’ because there’s been a few people round these parts sayin’ that there’s something livin’ in the woods. Something that ain’t no animal.” Your frown grew deeper. “Not an animal..?” You repeated almost to yourself rather than Micah. “O’ course, I don’t believe that,” Micah chuckled, “you gotta be insane if you think there’s some beast runnin’ around in these woods. Probably a grizzly or a big cat and I’m gonna be there to get it.”

You stopped a little past the sheriff’s office and looked back at Micah. His eyes were piercing and you couldn’t maintain eye contact with him, feeling like he was looking right through you.

“So what’s the fuss about a bear or a big cat?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at Micah. “There’s been predators out in the woods ever since I was a kid and even since before then… What’s so different now?”

Micah’s lips twisted into a smirk, as if he had been waiting for you to ask that. “Real weird things been happenin’.” He said, a tinge of excitement to his tone now, “first it was animals that started goin’ missin’ a few years back - a chicken here and there or maybe a family dog and everyone just assumed it was coyotes. Then some little housewife over past Diablo Ridge said she saw something a-sneakin’ into the barn one night, took her husband’s shotgun and went to see what it was… She swore it was a monster, at least eight feet tall and covered in thick black hair with glowing red eyes.” Micah laughed at the expression on your face. “Horse shit, of course! But since then, everyone wants to see this creature. Plenty of people claimin’ they have but I’ll believe it when I see it stuffed and mounted on my wall.”

“Well it’s been nice talking to you, Mr Bell.” You lied as you pulled yourself up into Cash’s saddle. “I have to be heading back now.” Micah’s smirk hadn’t faltered throughout your entire conversation. “If you ever get lonely up there, you can always come and find me.” He said, “or if you just want someone who knows how to handle a gun.” You hesitated before answering. “I’ll bear that in mind, Mr Bell.”

You rode Cash at a leisurely pace, not wanting to rush back because you wanted to think about what Micah Bell had said to you. You were familiar with people in town gossiping, wild stories spinning out of control like Chinese whispers, usually cautionary tales to stop children wandering too far from their mothers or going into the woods alone. You felt better knowing that Mr Morgan would be coming along later with the rifle cartridges.

Kieran was taking a break when you got back. He stood up when he saw you coming up to the house where he was sitting on the steps eating a sandwich Mary-Beth had no doubt made for him. He waved enthusiastically at you. “How was town?” He asked you, helping you unload Cash. “It was… Interesting.” Kieran laughed, “Strawberry? Interestin’?” You laughed too and carried the groceries into the house with Kieran behind you. He helped you put things away. “Oh!” You started as you remembered, “Mr Morgan will be coming later on today.” “Arthur Morgan?” “Yeah.” “Kinda… Surly lookin’ feller?” “Yeah.” “Hmm.”

You turned to look at Kieran who was looking thoughtfully at the can of beans in his hand. “Is… Is Mr Morgan… Bad?” You asked, feeling a bit silly to ask such a childish question but you didn’t know how else to ask it. Kieran chuckled. “No. I don’t think so. He’s just… Not a sociable person, is all.”

You were certain that this was true but it wasn’t always fair to judge a book by it’s cover.

Kieran was busying himself with the horses in the stables while you were going through some of daddy’s things in the house. You had asked Kieran if there was anything you could do to help him but he seemed capable enough of doing it all on his own and if anything, you were more of a hindrance.

It was around three o’clock when a silver dapple pinto Missouri foxtrotter made its way up the trail towards the house with Arthur Morgan astride it. You hadn’t forgotten about the handsome stranger who was coming to visit you and went out onto the porch to greet him.

The afternoon had turned colder than the morning despite the sun being high in the sky and Arthur was now wearing a longline olive coloured woollen coat and around his neck, he wore a black neckerchief. As he greeted you, you could see his breath in front of him. “Mr Morgan, thank you for coming!” “Of course,” he said to you, he looked a little better than earlier. “Why don’t you show me that rifle again?” You guided Arthur back into the house, the rifle was lying on the kitchen table. Arthur set a heavy leather satchel down on the table with a clunk and took out a few things - some boxes of cartridges and gun oil.

“It needs a decent clean before you load it up and go shootin’ at muskrats,” Arthur joked and you smiled. He showed you how to take the gun apart and how to clean it. “It needs regular care, think of it like brushin’ your horse.” Arthur pushed the rifle towards you. “Why don’t you try.” You cleaned the gun carefully and Arthur watched you. “Heard you met my brother John the other day,” Arthur said. You hadn’t been sure from the conversation you overheard in the general store whether John was Arthur’s brother or not but this confirmed it. They didn’t look alike at all, John was much leaner compared to Arthur, even their faces were completely different - John had sharp features and suspicious eyes. Arthur, while not the conversationalist had a certain warmth about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“He really helped me out when I got here,” you replied, “took me to the hotel in Strawberry, otherwise I’d have been stuck at the station all night.” A smirk tugged at Arthur’s lips, “that sounds like John.”

Once the gun was cleaned, Arthur showed you how to put it back together. “You know how to shoot this thing?” You felt a faint blush play across your face and you shook your head in response. Arthur laughed softly, “I got some time before I gotta get back… I could show you, if you wanted?” “Only if you’re sure.” There was that smile again. “I’m sure.”

The pair of you walked out to the fields in front of the house.

“You gotta stand straight and hold steady.” Arthur told you, “you gotta focus, breath slow and always pull the trigger on empty lungs.” “You sound like a seasoned gunman, Mr Morgan.” You said, you felt your heart flutter a little. Were you flirting with him? “Somethin’ like that,” Arthur murmured. “Here, let me show you how to hold it properly.”

You spent the next hour or so shooting at a few empty bottles that you had found lying around as target practice. You took it in turns, Arthur demonstrating then your turn. By the end of it, you had hit maybe two bottles celebrating each time by hopping around with joy while Arthur chuckled.

The sky had turned a pumpkin orange and the sun had started to dip below the treeline, casting large ominous shadows across the field. Kieran had rounded up the remaining animals into the barn.

Arthur turned to you, blond hair looking golden now in the dwindling sunlight, “I really must be going now.” “Why- why don’t you stay for dinner?” You found yourself asking and you had no idea why. You had no plans for dinner but you were sure you could rustle something up. “That’s mighty kind of you but I don’t wanna intrude on your hospitality any longer.” “You wouldn’t be intruding at all, Mr Morgan. I insist.” “My brother will be expectin’ me back. I should go but thank you all the same.” Arthur said, his voice soft but also firm.

You suddenly felt very silly very quickly, a hot wave of embarrassment washed over you and you wished you could evaporate. “Well... Thank you for today. You’ve been very kind and I appreciate it.”

He tipped his hat to you and went to his horse. You watched him mount it, swiftly kick his heels into its side and trot away towards the trail.

You didn’t know how long Kieran had been watching but he smiled weakly at you as you walked dejectedly back towards the house with the gun slung under your arm. “He ain’t the most sociable,” Kieran said with a hint of ’I told you so’, “but he ain’t a bad man. You sighed. “Yeah, I guess.” Soon enough Kieran was telling you that it was time for him to get home, too and you were left to spend another sleepless night in the ranch house. Completed fic on AO3

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #reader x arthur morgan #gender neural reader #halloween fic #werewolf au #writing #rdr2

78 notes · View notes

amongtheshadowandlight · 3 years ago

Text

In Twilight: Chapter 3 of ?

Chapter Three: All good things come to an end

It was the light tapping that made Ombretta let out a garbled noise, a deep scowl forming as she threw her pillow over her head. The scowl deepened as the taps continued, each of them making her more aware of her surroundings. In a short burst of rage, Ombretta threw her pillow to the other side of the bed and looked to the window, her shoulders sagging at the sight of Link outside her window. With a huff, Ombretta pushed herself out of bed and dragged herself to the window, yanking it open.

"Link?"

"Ombretta! Hi, wow. You don't look so good."

"Aren't you a charmer?"

"I didn't mean it like that!"

Ombretta sighed, shaking her head. She knew he didn't mean it like that. Between the pain getting stronger, the feeling of dread that had not left her and was getting to the point of nausea, she was lucky that she got the little sleep she did. She probably looked as bad as she felt.

"I didn't get much sleep last night." She said, not a total lie.

"Explains why you're still in bed."

"I'm allowed to be." Ombretta rubbed her forehead, "anyway, why are you at my window? We do have a front door, y'know."

"Well, I ran into Lennel on the way into town and he said that you’re still in bed."

"Normally, that's an indication that someone is trying to sleep."

Link chuckled, scratching at his cheek lightly. "I just wanted to check up on you."

Despite the crankiness that was swirling around in Ombretta's chest, she couldn't bring herself to be upset at Link. It warmed her heart. "I'll be fine, Link."

"Promise?"

"Promise." She repeated. "Anyway! Are you excited to go to Castle town? When are you leaving?"

"Later on today. Gotta wait for the sword and shield to be completed."

Ombretta nodded. "And you'll be safe right? I don't want you returnin’ home battered and bruised."

"Yes, Ombretta." Link reassured her, his hand grasping hers softly. "I promise."

Ombretta nodded again, saying nothing. But there wasn't anything else to be said, the silence was a comforting one. She made no move to remove her hand from his, but instead just simply tightened her hold. This was comforting, he was comforting. While the dread was still there (and growing as a matter of fact), there was something else she felt as well. What it was, Ombretta couldn't pinpoint it.

All she knew was that she never wanted it to go away.

But, like all good things, the comforting feeling slowly disappeared as Link pulled his hand away, giving her a fleeting smile. "I should get goin’, I was gonna check on Fado before I get ready to go."

"Oh! Oh yeah, you should go! But, if I don't see you before you leave. Have a good journey, travel safe, don't do anything stupid and I want to hear everything when you get back. Got it?"

"Yes, 'Bretta." Link patted Ombretta's hand once more before beginning his descent from the overhang, giving her a wave once he touched the ground.

Closing her window, Ombretta sighed, looking to her bed. She didn't want to go back to bed, there was no point to it now. Pulling on some of her everyday clothes, Ombretta hummed, looking around her room. Yes, her room was her safe place but now it was feeling small, suffocating.

A snap of her fingers, Ombretta felt her body tingle, her vision becoming blurry and chopped as she felt her body become light, airy if she was being honest. Her vision returned after a few moments, the scenery of her bedroom was now the Spirit spring.

Ombretta shook her legs once her feet touched the soft sands of the spring, the tingling feeling lingering. Teleporting wasn't something she did very often, despite being able to do it since she was a child. But in this case, she wasn't fond of the idea of talking to a lot of people at the moment, needing silence to herself. Once the feeling had disappeared, Ombretta planted herself at the water's edge, the sparkling water just touching her toes as she relished the sunrays, even if it was going to hurt her later.

The Spirit spring had always been a safe place for her, a sanctuary of sorts. Even when she was little, Ombretta always felt something special every time she stepped foot in the spring, like something was there, watching her, protecting her in a way. Ombretta could never truly explain what she felt, but it was enough for her to come back, sitting on the soft sand for hours on end if she could, sometimes only leaving when someone had come to fetch her.

"I don't understand." Ombretta whispered to no one, "this feeling, this dread. It's...it's getting worse. Why? Why is it there?" As much as Ombretta didn't want to admit it, she was scared, no. Not scared.

Terrified.

Ombretta was knocked out of her silent revelling at the sound of a snort and the muffled noise of footsteps hitting the sand. Uncurling herself, Ombretta twisted herself around, her eyebrow flying to her hairline as she watched Ilia close the gate to the spring, the sound of the padlock locking. Epona standing next to her.

"Ilia?" Ombretta asked, standing up. "What are you doing? And why do you have Epona?"

"Oh! Ombretta, I didn't see you there."

"Clearly," Ombretta approached them, her fingers running down the horse's mane slowly. "Now, wanna explain why you locked the three of us in there?"

"Link hurt Epona again, probably jumpin’ fences again." Ilia replied, continuing to grumble as she splashed some water on Epona's calf.

Ombretta hummed, "So...are you sure it was from jumpin’ fences-"

"Ilia!"

Both of them turned at the timid voice, looking at each other for a split second as the bright blond hair poked out the side of the rock face. "Colin?"

"Ilia, you need to give Link Epona back."

"No way!"

Ombretta opened her mouth, quickly closing it at the sound of the gate rattling.

"Ilia, please let me in?"

"Oh my Farore, it's like a party in here." Ombretta mumbled, crossing her arms. "And I still don't fully understand what's going on."

"If you came here to take back Epona, you can forget it!" Ilia snapped, glaring at Link through the fence. "Why don't you think about what you've done for a change! I won't open the gate until you change your attitude!"

Ombretta made a sharp inhale at the dejected look Link had. She opened her mouth again, ready to offer her horse as a quick replacement.

"Ilia, you don't know what happened!" Colin interjected, "I'll explain everything if you let me."

"Alright." Ilia moved her gaze from Epona to Colin. "Explain."

And so he did. Both Ombretta and Ilia listened with erest as Colin explained how Talo went after the monkey, only to get captured by bokoblins as they entered the forest, being locked up in that cage. As Colin explained, Ombretta glanced over to her friend, the guilt slowly starting to settle. She must have known as much as I did.

"I had no idea," Ilia said once Colin had finished. "I hadn't heard the details of Talo's capture."

Ombretta nodded in agreement, "yeah, Lennel didn't exactly give the best explanation in the world. But Colin..." Ombretta trailed off as she noticed Link easing his way over to them slowly.

Ilia said nothing, turning around to face Epona, backing off as Epona snorted at the sight of her owner.

"You still prefer your master over me, huh Epona?" Ilia mumbled, a smile (albeit a small one) replacing the scowl. "You don't need to worry about her, Link. Luckily, the injury doesn't look too serious. You two can go on together."

"Oh, Ilia. Thank you."

"But, Link..." Ilia drew out. "Can you promise me this, whatever happens on your journey. Don't try anything out of your league, please?" Her shoulders finally relaxed. "Just, come home safely."

Link nodded. "I promise."

It was almost like it was a trigger, the hot searing pain tearing through Ombretta's skull, causing her to cry out and grip her head, stumbling around as her knees buckled. The pain was unbearable, much not enough to distract her from the ground shaking under her feet and growing noises of grunting and squalling.

Ombretta let out a strangled gasp as she watched a giant boar crash through the gates, it's riders screeching and waving what looked to be weapons. Ombretta watched as Ilia and Colin took off, her legs felt like lead. She watched in horror as Ilia fell to the ground, managing to move an inch before feeling the skull-splitting pain, this time causing her to tumble down, the water instantly seeping into her clothes as she laid there, the edge of vision becoming blurry, hearing one more hitting the water.

Then everything went black.

~***~

Everything was throbbing.

Ombretta felt like she could barely move, and it wasn't exactly like she wanted to, the cold stone floor feeling good against her aching muscles.

Wait, stone?

With as much strength as she could muster, Ombretta pushed herself up into a sitting position, her hand flying to her head as the throbbing worsened. Stifling a whimper, Ombretta scanned the area once she got her vision to focus, seeing nothing but weathered stone and cast iron bars. A cell? Was she in a prison cell? She looked down, her gaze landing on the iron chain locked onto her wrist.

Yes, she was in a prison cell.

But why she was in a prison cell was the main question. Ombretta closed her eyes, rubbing her temples as she tried to rack her brain, maybe there was something she remembers. There has to be something...

A creak caused her to snap her eyes open, her hands up half expecting one of those monsters, but only relaxing slightly when she didn't see them, but rather a wolf and an Imp?

"This is odd." The Imp said, her voice feeling oddly familiar to Ombretta, like a memory had unlocked.

But Ombretta focused more of her attention on the wolf, who just simply stared at her, calmly. Her head tilted as she stared back into the wolf's eyes, the brightest blue she had seen, a familiar blue. She scanned him more, the grey fur looking soft to the touch, the lighter markings on its forehead, the tell-all set of blue earrings on it's ears...

"Link!?"

#link x reader #link x oc #twilight princess #twilight princess link #legend of zelda #Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess #TP Link

5 notes · View notes

alilbihh · 5 years ago

Text

washed ashore || jhs

masterlist

pairing: hoseok x reader

summary: in which you and hoseok are enemy captains but kinda make out behind closed doors.

genre: pirate!hoseok, pirate!reader, enemies to lovers (kinda?? they’re both lol), fluff

words: 3k

a/n: i should be writing other things but here’s a drabble of pirate hoseok who’s def whipped lol

The underbelly of the ship is dark and cold, the flickering lanterns just bright enough to help distinguish where you are. Two pirates standing guard just outside are seemingly looming, stiff and still and motionless, standing as if you could somehow break free and escape without their being there. You only know you're on a ship by the famliar rocking of the floor beneath your feet, up down and up again.

You kick at the metal cells caging you in. "Hello?" you yell, the guards not even offering you a glance. You're alone in unfamiliar territory, and whoever is in charge of that was right to do so — had you been put together with one of your crew mates, you'd likely strangle them before the enemy could do anything to them at all.

"Hello?" you shriek again, hands moving to pull fruitlessly at the cold, metal bars. "Can someone at least come to fucking negotiate or something?"

When a few minutes pass and it seems no one is intent on coming, you take a breath and reach through the bars to pull at the back of the shirt of the nearest guard, pulling so quick the bars rattle and the man breathes out a low groan. "Who the hell is your captain?" you whisper into the shell of his ear.

The others standing guard pull the man back with a ruckus before he stands up straight, embarrassment painting his cheeks red. He yanks your arm through the bars, hard enough that your temple is pressed to the metal painfully.

"Sit in your little cell and rot." He hisses, pushing you back so that you fall to the ground. Your hands clench at your sides, grabbing a fistful of dirt and grime. Your temple aches.

"Hey, hey, captain said we had to get this one through unharmed." A different pirate says, panicked, almost, pulling the man back. Maybe you'd picked the wrong pirate to pick a fight with, you think offhandedly.

"Fuck the captain," he scoffs, looking down at you — patronizingly, almost. You feel your insides being set aflame, brow twitching, jaw clenching. "He's been giving us small portions of his loot for fucking months. I bet he has a stash of the rest all to himself, the bastard."

The others narrow his eyes at him but don't say anything else. The silence drags on, and you scooch backwards until your back is pressed to the wall, hands digging into the dirt as it sticks to your nail beds uncomfortably. You could say more, yell more. But you're tired and you're angry and that one guy is an ass, so you don't.

No one comes for one, two more hours. You're beginning to think you'd really been left here to rot until there's footsteps and then noise and then—

And then someone steps in.

He's -- different, than how you remember. Just slightly though. His hair is longer, tied into a small and flimsy ponytail. There's a new scar, a tiny one, right on the apple of his cheek, white like it'd been there for a while. Even from where you sit, he smells faintly of rum and sea salt and just a little bit like home.

You scowl. "Why, if it isn't captain Jung Hoseok." You spit his name like it's poison, moving so the back of your head presses to the wall, watching him from beneath your lashes.

"Captain Y/n L/n," he says simply, grinning unabashedly, like he's in on some sort of game. "Oh, how I missed your sour complexion."

"As did I," you cock your head, silently addressing his lousy looking form, as if he'd rushed over, gotten ready just last minute.

"So you're still alive, hm?" Hoseok hums, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you. "How're you liking your cell?"

"Oh, it's just peachy. How're you liking the numbers over your head?" You grin humorlessly, even as he says nothing. "The new piracy act. I don't suppose you've heard of it?"

It's a taunt. He knows, and goes along with it. "It allows the military to execute pirates. Without trial, without hesitation."

"Indeed it does." You hum, "And I don't suppose you know of the number of people who want you beheaded?"

"They want me beheaded for more reasons than just the piracy act, sweetheart." He tuts. "I thought you'd know this by now."

"Oh, I know alright," you scoff out a laugh, "what I, too, wouldn't give to have your head on a silver platter."

"And yet here you are," he grins something devilish, leaning against the metal bars, "all caged up. You've given me good reason to simply hand you over to the military, haven't you? Imagine how easy it would be. How easy, too, to have you walk the plank, to catch wind of your body having washed up ashore."

"So why don't you?" you're vulnerable. You're vulnerable and trapped in a cage and surrounded by the enemy and his comrades, and challenging him is definitely not ideal but--

But he only smiles, relaxing just the smallest bit. Tension so small you didn't even notice it until it wasn't there, that's what melts away. Says, "Why don't I, indeed." And that's that.

The silence feels slow and deliberate, like a lip being dragged through teeth. You speak up when it becomes too much. "I'm hoping you have a good reason for not only capturing me and my crew, but also for leaving me waiting for hours on end and being threatened by one of your crew mates?"

You see the waver in his expression and your lips curl upward at one corner. Jung Hoseok, your rival for years at sea, your mortal enemy, the man you'd sworn to kill on sight; that Jung Hoseok takes one step, two. Squints his eyes at you. Double takes. Takes one look at your bruising temple and swerves, looking like the ruler of the very sea he sails on and --

You hate this man. You're as sure about that as you're sure he hates you. You hold onto that thought as tight as a hangman's noose around a neck. And yet-- and yet --

And yet you watch as Hoseok takes one look at one of his men, watch as his other crew mate points to the very man who'd bruised your temple, watch as Hoseok pushes the man onto the wall by the neck.

Hoseok whispers something in his ear but you can't make out what was said at all. You can only watch as Hoseok steps away from him, watch as the man scrambles out the room.

You can only watch, still, as Hoseok's taut shoulders slowly relax, his hands unclenching at his sides. His hair fell out of the ponytail sometime during the commotion, his hair framing the sides of his face messily, and when he turns to you his expressions softens into this thing that melts you down to your bones and he's just--

Just.

"Goodnight, captain L/n." He grins and walks away with a flourish, boots padding through the worn wood and echoing down the hallway almost hauntingly. You grin at his retreating back.

Your bare feet tap, tap, tap against the wood, and you wince when it lets out a particularly loud squeak of protest from your rushed steps. It's hard to be silent when the floor doesn't quite cooperate.

Forcing yourself to take in a deep breath, you continue your search for your weapon, first and foremost. Hoseok usually keeps it there, still in its scabbard, untouched; somewhere near your cell, close by, somewhere where it's hard to miss, but it hadn't been there. Hadn't been—anywhere.

And of course you could just-- just take someone out without a weapon. You could approach them from behind and it would be quick and easy and have no repercussions to you, but Hoseok wouldn't like it if you were to take out one of his men, so. So.

(Not that it mattered, but-- but.)

Still. Your plan was to get your things and leave. Freeing your crewmen had crossed your mind, but you didn't take any action on that; hadn't really considered the thought much, either. It's not like you cared about them much, not enough to put your life on the line like that. You'd stopped doing that a while ago.

You're about to ditch all your belongings and make a run for it when the tip of a blade presses to your throat.

You sigh. Roll your eyes. Turn around like this was inevitable, and maybe it was. Maybe Captain Jung-fucking-Hoseok had been watching you the whole time, if only to make you fool yourself into thinking you had the upper hand. How foolish indeed.

"Captain Jung Hoseok," you greet for the second time in just the past twenty four hours, and. Well. You're not sure what to think of that.

"Captain Y/n L/n," he grins, all cheeky and delighted.

"We meet again?"

"And so we do," he barks out a laugh, "what a coincidence!"

"Indeed! I was just about to treat myself to the finest of wines you have to offer here on your ship."

Hoseok's lips curl at one corner, just a bit, just enough. "And with whose permission?"

"My own, of course."

"How fascinating." He deadpans. His sword is still pressed to your throat, not enough to draw blood, not even enough to hurt.

There's a lot of things you could do here. You could, for instance, duck out of the way, trip him, grab his sword, reverse the roles. You could negotiate, somehow. There're many ways to get out of this, maybe. Probably. But he's staring at you like he knows something you don't. He's looking at you not like you're one of his bits of gold, but like you're something to be treasured.

And yet-- "I could kill you right now."

You snort. "How romantic."

His lips wobble like he's trying to hold back a smile. "I'm serious. I could slice your throat with just a flick of my wrist."

"Rude, but fair."

You're staring at each other and the silence drags on, and you’re sure the moonlight leaking through the ship's window overhead would be romantic in any other setting. Perhaps it's not a terrible way to die, you think offhandedly. Grounded by the comforting rocking of the ship and surrounded by moonlight and Hoseok's watchful eyes. Pretty eyes. So big and open and honest.

The sword clatters to the ground.

Your gaze flickers from Hoseok to the sword then back to Hoseok again slow, raising your brow like this was inevitable.

"Huh! Well look at you," you coo, "sparing my life like a big ole softie."

"Shut the fuck up," he mutters, embarrassed, but there's no bite to it.

You're rooted in place even as Hoseok takes one, two, three steps toward you. A hand finds the small of your back, touching then hovering then touching again, like he's hesitating. Then he's guiding you down dark hallways, stopping only to take his blade and tuck it back into its scabbard.

The hallways are familiar in a way they shouldn't be. And they're familiar because you've been through them one too many times before, had done all this before, just like this, getting captured and having your escape be unsettingly easy and then—this. Being lead through hallway after hallway, a gentle hand on your back.

You pass by one door then two then three. Hoseok's hands are still there, a soft but firm reassurance, gentle as if to say you can go, you can leave if you want. But you don't. You never do. So you let him lead you, lead you until you reach a set of double doors, the wood carved beautifully, a door knob made of gold.

The doors are slightly ajar as if someone intended to close them but it didn't quite get there, which is-- unusual. Unusual because Hoseok is a captain and he, for obvious reasons, can't leave his door open and unlocked as if it were an invitation. For a second, the thought that maybe he rushed out just to get you without a care for himself and his belongings is just-- just. So much.

Hoseok leads you inside and shuts the door behind him, amused as you plop onto the bed that's much too big for just one person. There's a rustle before you turn to see him standing by the foot of the bed, tossing his muddy shirt into a corner somewhere.

Despite himself, he grins. "I hope you know this still counts as breaking and entering."

"Hey, no fair, I'm the real prisoner here, if anything," you huff, and he laughs in a way that turns his eyes into crescents and leaves his shoulders shaking.

"M'yeah," he hums, crawling in beside you, a hand reaching then hovering then retracting. You huff, grab a hold of his hand, pull him in closer in a way that has him squealing at just how unexpected it is. You laugh.

Hoseok's head plops onto the pillow beside you, watches you through half-lidded eyes. You half expect him to pull you close by the collar like he does sometimes, when he kisses you slow and then fast and then slow again, kisses you like he'd ached for it for weeks. But-- he doesn't. His hand trails over your arm, up then down then up again, all slow and gentle. It trails up, up, reaches your half-bruised temple and lingers.

"Should've made him walk the plank, that man," his eyes are blown wide, breathing in too fast, but he's touching you so gently it aches, like really deep bruise aches, like sleeping wrong on your neck and no medicine eases it up aches.

"Don't have to," you murmur, hoping you're touching him just as softly. "It's your crew. You don't have to."

"Maybe I should reevaluate the people I let on my ship, then."

"Can we keep Jungkook though? I like that guy."

Hoseok's hands are carding gently through your hair as he chuckles, lips ghosting over your neck in a feathery kiss. An almost-kiss. A kiss.

"M'kay," he murmurs.

Hoseok breathes you in, breathes you out. You lean forward until you can press your forehead to the crown of his head and you feel—tired. Not tired of--this. Whatever this is. But tired of everything else. Tired of seeing him when he's captain Jung Hoseok, your supposed worst enemy. Of having to hear him threaten to kill you with such conviction that makes you think this is it, this is the day he does it. The day it isn’t a threat, but a promise.

Of pretending you hadn't ever seen him like this, soft and open and vulnerable and kiss-stricken, wearing that soft grin he keeps just for you.

"I like your mole," you say just above a whisper, reaching out to touch him right there, right on the little mole on his upper lip.

He shivers, just a bit, just enough. "I have a mole?" He says confusedly.

"Mmhm," you hum with a laugh, "it's cute. Wanna kiss it."

You look up at him but he's already looking at you. Maybe he never looked away.

Hoseok breathes in slow and deep, breathes out shakily, and says, "What's stopping you?"

Many things, you don't say. There are many things stopping me. He knows that too. But here, you realize—here, where it's just you and Jung Hoseok and no one else— here, there's nothing. Nothing is stopping you here. There was nothing stopping you before, and there's certainly nothing stopping you now.

And so for the very first time, you realize the answer is-- nothing.

In the end it's Hoseok who does it first, Hoseok who sits up only to lean down until your foreheads are pressed together, until he can cup both your cheeks and kiss you slow until you're aching down to your bones.

You sigh, wrapping your hands around his wrists, whisper "Hoseok" when you both part. Hoseok tilts his head, brushes his thumbs over your cheekbones, smiles something so achingly fond before leaning down to kiss you again and again and again.

It's not the first time. You can probably count the incidents on your fingers-- a drunken slip-up, kisses shared after a near-death experience, kisses stolen behind closed doors-- one in jail, too, probably. Maybe two. But this is just so much more than you were expecting, whatever it is you were expecting.

Hoseok presses gently, then a little harder. His hands trail down, down, trickling under your shirt. He tickles your sides a little bit, just a bit, just enough to have you smile mid-kiss, enough to leave him smiling too and it's all--so much. So much.

When you both part it's with laughs shared only between you two, just a little moment of many others you'll tuck somewhere in your chest and never let go of.

"I still didn't kiss your mole," you say, breathless in a way that has him laughing loudly before leaning down again, kissing your upper lip then your lower then the apple of your cheeks.

Hoseok sits you up and rolls so you're lying on top of him, laughs at your squeals, kisses them away. "Stay with me?" He murmurs between kisses despite wanting nothing but your lips back on him, your hands, your breath. "Stay, please?"

"Mm," you hum, "I want to. I really want to," is all you offer.

He knows what you mean. Knows what it means if you both were to get caught, knows why he sometimes has to stay days, weeks, months without hearing a word from you, without even knowing if you're alive.

And yet he smiles and holds on tighter, holds on knowing you won't be there when he wakes, holds on knowing he'd have to pretend you'd escaped him. Again.

Yet he knows he'll inevitably capture you once, twice, thrice-- just to do it all over again.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts ff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #pirate bts #pirate hoseok #bts fluff #hoseok smut #bts jhope x reader #hoseok fanfiction #bts fanfic

285 notes · View notes

queenjunoking · 4 years ago

Text

Wolf Taming Pt. 8

CW: Noncon - Shock Collar - Pain - Petplay - drugs - Kidnapping - Manipulation

I flipped on the camera as I looked at some of the toys. I watched as Sasha stared at the door for a bit, making sure I wasn’t coming back before she turned to her food. She was willing to surrender part of her dignity as long as she didn’t think anyone was watching. She started to pick food up off the plate with her teeth, not ever humoring the idea she could use her hands. She was being such a good girl.

The moment brought a genuine smile to my face. I had considered telling Sasha about the cameras so she knew she would never have privacy again. But this moment made me change my mind. It was cute watching her when she thought she was alone. From sleeping on the pillow this morning to just eating her food. I could only wonder what else she might do when left to her own devices. She could be so angry in front of me sometimes, but when she was alone she could be quite meek. Good girls got rewards. I picked a small dog toy off the shelf, a little squeaky bear.

I waited for a few minutes to pass after she finished to crack open the door. “Sasha? Have you finished eating or do you need a few more minutes? Speak.” I wanted to see how honest she would be.

There was some hesitation, she was deciding whether she should be honest or if she wanted to put off what was going to happen. She sighed. “I’m finished. Thank you for the food.” I exited the room, keeping the bear behind my back.

“Well we have one trick for you to learn today. To help out I am setting your collar to pet mode for the rest of the day. If you do well not only will you get a full night's worth of rest tonight, you’ll also get this.” I held the bear out for her to see. She tried to reign in her look of disappointment.

“Don’t look so sad Sasha. I thought you would like it.” I gave her a sad voice, my gift spurned. “But, let's move on. It’s time for your second trick. You’re on all fours for the rest of the day so your next trick is to sit. Sit Sasha.”

I rolled my eyes as she sat down on her butt and leaned back. “No Sasha, that’s how people sit down. Sit like a puppy.” She hesitated for just a moment too long. “I thought we had a deal Sasha. Are you breaking it already?” I made my voice drip with caution. I wanted her to think about what she was doing and allow her to correct herself. The wheels in her head started to grind as she considered how best to please me. She got into a kneeling position with her hands planted on the ground in front of her.

“Such a good girl Sasha!” I approached the cage and unwrapped another mini-candy bar. I held the candy bar by the edge, giving Sasha plenty of room to grab it without biting me. “Good girls get treats.”

She looked at the treat, probably trying to think of a way to refuse to eat out of my hand. She sighed and gently grabbed the treat and ate it. I had to resist reaching out and petting her hair, I didn’t want to startle her. There would come a time I’d be able too. Waiting would just make it even better.

A stifled yawn caught me off guard. I could see Sasha was getting tired. She had a rough day. Her temper tantrum earlier had hurt her a lot. But she had put effort into learning the tricks I wanted her too. “Sasha, please answer me honestly. Are you tired? Speak.”

She looked me up and down. I could only assume she was wondering if this was a trap. “I’m… very tired.” She sounded exhausted.

“Come back closer to the bars sweetheart and sit.” She scooted closer to me and sat like she had before. No fuss. She was too tired to be fussy about being told to sit down. I motioned for her to put her paws through the bars. I gently removed the paws and watched her flex her hands. She motioned to the ears but didn’t say anything.

“The ears stay on for now. I’m not going to punish you if they fall off in your sleep but… it would make me so happy if you tried to keep them on.” She gave me a little sad nod. “But, you are a good girl and you get your prize.” I passed the stuffed bear through the bars.

“It’s late already Sasha. You’ve done so much today and you deserve a rest.” I walked away from the cage and was about to flip off the lights when I heard the cage rattle. I looked back at her and she looked… hurt. “What’s wrong Sasha? Speak.”

“You… said if I was good I got a question each night and you would answer it truthfully. Y-you said I was good. Do I get my question?” Her voice was unsteady. She had questions she really wanted answers too, who could blame her? But she was also afraid of pushing me. But her request was fair and I hadn’t meant to forget it.

“Of course Sasha. You deserve your question and I am at fault for forgetting about it. I will answer whatever you want to know. I might recommend you ask something that won’t keep you up tonight? You’re very tired and need sleep. I won’t stop you from asking a question, but you have all the time in the world to ask the ones that might make you feel hurt later.” She flinched at my statement. Being reminded she had little to no chance to escape was a fresh wound that wouldn’t be healing soon.

She was silent for a minute. I could see her considering my advice. She would probably pass out the moment her head hit the pillow if her mind would let her rest. Eventually she settled on her question. “Am… I ever going to be let out of this cage?”

“Yes Sasha, you will. I promise. There is a lot for you to see here eventually. But I can’t do that yet. I know that if given the right opportunity you’ll attack me and try to overpower me. We need to build up more trust first, then you’ll get to see some other things here that I know you’ll enjoy.”

That was her question and that’s all I was going to give her to think about. “Have a goodnight Sasha, I love you.” I flipped off the lights and left the room.

As usual, I flipped on the camera. I saw her reach for the ears, then think better of it. I felt giddy as she went and drank from her bowl. Unfortunately she used her hands to lift it to her lips, but she was using the bowl none-the-less. She picked up the squeaky bear and placed it next to her pillow. I could see her press the squeaker a few times, it made me smile. She looked around the room, then laid down on her pillow and was out like a light immediately. It had been such a long day for her. To the best of her knowledge the day was already over.

Unfortunately for her, the day was just beginning.

2 notes · View notes

valiantthewriter · 5 years ago

Text

Us and We

This is a direct sequel to Anything and Everything. You’ll want to make sure to read that first for this to make better sense. Both can be found on AO3

CW: Angst, Infidelity, Time Skips, Mentions of sex.

"Keep your secrets and I'll keep mine."

Why did it have to be a secret at all?

----

He swore he would never tell. He meant it then and he still meant it now.

----

"Harry, let it be. I already told you there is no one else."

"You're right, Peter. I'm sorry. I'm just...please say you're telling the truth."

Peter sighed.

"Of course, Harry. I would never. You know that, right?"

Liar.

----

All it took was one look into the crowd and Peter was naturally drawn to Tony. This was his wedding day; why was he here? Peter's heart beat wildly in his chest, a little caged dove beating at the bars of his ribs.

Not again. Please, not again.

----

"You're such an ass, Tony."

"Better play nice, Osborn , or I'll wreck yours. You wouldn't want your husband finding you all wet and loose on your wedding night."

"Where do you get off being the one that's angry?"

"Be quiet and let me suck you off, baby. After that, you can get back to your little wedding."

Peter was a horrible person. He was in a janitorial closet with the man who tore his heart about to get head from that very man that was not his husband at his own wedding. He was going to hell.

But seeing Tony like this? Remembering the touches, the whisper of gossamer curtains dancing in the wind, Miami?

"Fuck! Just like that."

----

Peter arrived at work after the honeymoon to a desk covered in white paper chains and dollar store decorations. There was a beautiful bouquet in the middle with calla lilies, his favorite flower. A card was attached to the vase, so Peter grabbed it and stroked the gold etching on the front. This was so ostentatious that it had to be Harry.

He was wrong.

How could I not?

"Welcome back!"

Peter jumped at the greeting to the amusement of his coworkers.

"Oh! Are these from Harry? I need a husband, too."

"Yeah...husbands are great."

As his heartbeat slowed, his knees became weak.

How could he not? How could he not?

How could he?

----

They met for coffee in Queens, a place where they were less likely to be found by Harry, Pepper, or the paparazzi. It was a rundown coffee shop that was grimy but served excellent scones. This was Peter's kind of place. The money and expensive things were fun and all, but this was Peter, a boy from Queens that grew up with nothing. Well...he had something, once. At least he thought he did.

"I'm happy you came," the man in front of Peter said, shaking him from his faraway thoughts. One look at those dark eyes and he was gone again, the little caged bird in him released into the wild.

"I don't know why I did."

Honesty was good. Yes, very good.

Tony took a deep breath, his expression betraying how he was calculating what he wanted to say next. No speech this time. Just Tony.

"I -"

"How's Pepper doing?" Peter interjected. It was better this way, reminding Tony he had a wife. That they were both married and what happened in that closet was wrong. Everything was wrong.

Tony sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Baby, do you wanna play the game you're playing or do you wanna talk?"

"Since when am I your 'baby'? I don't think I ever was. You never...you never…"

"Pete, please -"

"No, I'm talking. Everything was fine, Tony. I was...I was fine. And then suddenly you waltz in and everything I built goes away…"

Tony reached out for Peter's hands, grasping them and bringing them to his lips, a kiss for each knuckle.

"Pete, I can't stop myself. I'll only go away if you send me away."

"Leave. I want you to go now."

Liar.

----

"This way, Daddy," Peter whispered, leading Tony to the bed by his tie.

He didn't even bother looking at the flowers nor the champagne. He didn't look at the exquisite decor in the room. He didn't take in anything that wasn't Tony, his olive skin, his graying hair, the way he smiled.

Peter honed in on the older man as he always did. It always came to this.

"Lay back, sweetheart. You know I got you."

Liar.

----

"Hey, Pete?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Who's 'T'?"

Peter's heart dropped to his stomach. How much of the conversation did he delete? He remembered the words, the pictures, the -

"They said that they need you for a work meeting."

"Oh yeah. I'll meet them later."

Harry walked up behind Peter, kissing his neck. It felt off, no beard tickling him, no words turning his blood into molten gold.

----

Peter couldn't stop. Someone cut the brake line.

----

He had a dream where he looked into a crystal ball and saw three doves: one for love, one for hope, one for joy. He fed the doves and then a vulture came and ate them all up.

All that was left were feathers. A shadow. A fortune that would come to pass.

----

"What did you tell Harry?"

"I said that I would be going to stay with Aunt Jean in Miami."

"Well, Aunt Jean is very happy you were able to fly down."

Peter swallowed his guilt along with Tony's cum.

----

Shame on you. Shame on me.

----

Do all roads lead to this? Peter twisted around Tony, orbiting the man down to his essence?

Do all roads lead to guilt? To shame? To hating the fact that he wasn't waking up with the one he wanted each day?

All roads to all places led him back here.

----

"I love Miami."

"Why?"

Peter was confused.

"It makes me think of you."

----

There are no happy endings.

----

"Happy Anniversary, darling. Don't hate me, but I have an emergency meeting in Tokyo. I'll have to be gone for a week or so."

Harry truly looked upset, near tears even. Peter felt horrible. His first thought was wondering when he could bring Tony over.

----

He is still a good person. He can be redeemed. There is a way out.

----

"Tony…"

We need to stop. This is hurting people. We can't do this anymore. Please, stop.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Um...pass the bread."

----

Peter lies to himself all the time.

----

Sometimes, Peter thinks back to the days before things started, back when he was sixteen and hungry for something he didn't know the name of. When he thinks of it, the ache comes back and his ribs rattle.

He would give anything and everything to have that back.

----

"Come over. Harry's gonna be gone for a week and I want you to stay with me for a couple of days."

----

They play house and it's fun. They eat waffles and Tony is wearing pajama bottoms and Peter is in Tony's shirt.

They have sex on the couch. On the kitchen counter. On the dresser.

In his marriage bed.

----

Could it be like this one day? Can any road lead to bliss?

Roads to Rome. Roads to madness.

----

They are sitting in the bath together, Peter's back to Tony's chest, and Tony is humming a tune into Peter's hair.

"Take me to Rome one day."

"Anything and everything, sweetheart. You name it."

Peter holds his breath and Tony's hand. He wants to believe those promises.

----

The headboard was banging into the wall with the force of Tony's thrusts. Peter digs his heels into the small of Tony's back, urging him to go harder.

"Just like that...oh my god, please!"

"You wait for Daddy, baby. Hold it a little bit longer. You can do it."

Peter sobs, clawing at Tony's back.

Suddenly, there are footsteps echoing down the hall.

"What the fuck is this?"

----

Three dead doves. One for love, one for hope, and one for joy. The carcasses lay at Peter's feet and the vulture eats their remains.

----

He got a paper cut on the divorce decree.

----

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Pete?"

"Do you love me?"

"How could I not?"

"No, say it. Do you love me?"

Tony stiffens, his expression twists like he might cry.

"Yes, baby. Yes."

Tears begin to stream from Peter's eyes. A little dove came flying back into Peter's chest.

"Will you be with me now?"

Tony curls in on himself.

"Pete...if it is about money, I'll pay for whatever you need or want."

"No, baby...not the money."

You and me. Us and we.

"Pete…"

"I need an answer, Tony. A real one. Please, will you be with me?"

----

His new beginning looked like this:

Peter looks into a puddle of water next to the wet bench he is sitting on in Central Park. He is crying and it is raining and all he could hear is Tony's voice over and over. All he could hear is how Tony sent him away, for good.

"Hey, man. You good?"

Peter looks up and this man looks like he could be a second chance at happiness.

"Yeah...uh. I'm Peter Parker."

"Hi, Peter. I'm Harry."

----

"Peter."

"Tony."

They smile at each other as they lay intertwined in bed. Like tangled yarn. Like roots of a tree.

----

"I want to be with you, Peter."

Little dove hope.

"You need to know I really do."

Little dove joy.

"Then do it. Please. Be with me. Choose me like I chose you."

"Pepper is pregnant."

----

The crystal ball is cackling and crackling. Prophecy fulfilled.

----

Peter giggles, kicking out as Tony tickles his feet.

"Knock it off, Daddy."

"Alright, alright."

Tony presses a kiss to the arch on Peter's foot, beard tickling him a little more. Those tickles turn to tingles which turn into delicious torment as Tony works his way up.

"God, I love Miami."

----

Peter feels like he was slapped in the face.

"And...what about us?"

Tony rubbed his eyes to try to keep the tears from coming out.

"I don't know, Pete. Baby, I don't know."

Shock turns to rage.

"You need to know. I want you. I want to be with you. Give me an answer."

----

Empires fall when love is not discrete.

----

Peter flipped a coin. Heads for do it and tails for don't.

Tails.

What do stupid coins know?

----

"It's complicated."

"Not this shit again. Pick me or her. Pick."

"Peter…"

"You said you love me. It could be Us. It could be We. Every day could be perfect because we would have each other."

Tony sniffles and rubs at his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"No."

"I should leave."

"NO!"

----

Icarus got too close to the sun. Peter gets it.

----

"I'll take anything and everything you'll give me. Please, don't go."

His everything became Tony again. Once more, this man rooted himself into Peter's very being and nothing would ever be the same.

"Sweetheart, do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes."

----

Crying during sex is rather cathartic.

----

Morgan is a beautiful name for a beautiful baby.

----

"Tony."

"Peter."

"I like Rome."

The road is twisted and treacherous. The road isn't meant to be followed.

----

Three doves: one gray, one limping, one dead.

The vulture made a nest.

----

He will keep it a secret. It's just like old times, like all times. Ever and ever and ever.

#val writes #tonyxpeter #tony x peter #peter x tony #peterxtony #val writes angst

28 notes · View notes

vintageneptune92 · 5 years ago

Text

Wonder of You

Letting Go- Chapter 5

So this one is a long one. Thank you as always for your likes, re-blogs and comments. I LOVE FEEDBACK!!!!!!

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in this story, or anything else I have.

Tag List:

@magssteenkamp @fandom-princess-forevermore @deans-baby-momma

Blake couldn’t sleep. Well she didn’t want to sleep. Every single time she closed her eyes, she watched Dean get electrocuted again and again. Granted he was okay now, he had been healed, but the prospect of loosing him had been too close for comfort. Or she saw herself and Sam locked in cages waiting to be slaughtered. So instead of sleeping herself, she watched him and Sam sleep. It was a gift to watch their chests rise and fall. The idea of living in a world without Dean or Sam Winchester in it was more than she could handle.

The whole ordeal had taken a lot out of Dean emotionally. Someone had died so that he could live. Even though he didn’t make the choice, it was eating at him. And the idea that he wanted to sacrifice his life so someone neither of them knew could live made Blake’s breath stop. He couldn’t leave her, regardless of how guilty he felt. She had knocked the wind out of Sam when she hugged him gratefully for stopping the ritual and saving Dean. He knew that no matter what Blake had told him, she wasn’t over his brother. The fear and relief he had witnessed in those few days proved it. She just wasn’t ready to admit it to herself. She also knew her and Sam vanishing had rattled his cage quite a bit. Blake turned her head to look at Sam. Her sweet Sammy. What was happening to him? Psychic visions, telekinesis? The Demon that had killed Mary had done the same thing to Max’s mother. What if Sam lost control? The idea of him hurting himself or someone he loved made her queasy. She looked at her phone willing John to call, but he didn’t. She knew he wouldn’t. She was so angry with him she could scream. She hugged her knees to her chest and shivered. The cold Chicago air nipped through the cheap motel.

Sam and Blake had barely made it away with their lives. She shuddered at the idea of being locked in that cage. The way the brothers were a little to handsy, leering at here. The one had mentioned keeping her for himself. The back of his hand running down her cheek. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened if Dean hadn’t found them.

“Do you ever sleep anymore?” She heard Dean’s gruff voice.

“Too wired to sleep.” Her chin rested on the top of her knees.

“You look exhausted. You shouldn’t have taken the couch. I would have.“

“I wouldn’t have slept in the bed either Dee.” Dean sat up.

“What’s the matter sweetheart?” It was funny how sometime the nickname made her cringe and other times it warmed her heart. She considered her answer for a moment and realized that he would see through her BS if she lied.

“You mean other than being locked up and almost hunted like an animal? I’m terrified to close my eyes. I see you or Sam dead...or worse.” Dean took notice of how her voice shook. He stood up and made his way to the couch and sat down next to her.

“Tell me about the worse. You promised me you’d tell me about those nightmares, maybe you thought I forgot.” She sighed. Dean sat wide eyed as she went through the gamete of visions. Her mother’s corpse speaking to her. The terror, the running. John and Mary.

“They want me to know something. But they won’t tell me what it is.” Her voice broke. “I am convinced your father knows something. I think my mother made him appear to me to give me a hint. He won’t call me back. I’ve called and I’ve called.”

“I know. Have you ever done research into your mother? Maybe there is something there.”

“I’ve always been too scared to. There’s something on the edge of my memory that I can’t quite reach. I think it would explain things. No matter what I do, it’s like the memory is locked.”

“Well, we figure out what is up with this Demon and Sammy and then we’ll figure this out too.”

“How Dean?”

“Together. We’ll figure it out together.” He pulled her over to him, wrapping his arms around her. “You’re freezing. C’mon, let’s go lay down. Same deal as when we were hunting the scarecrow. Even a flicker of a nightmare and I’ll wake you up.” You nodded and followed him to the bed. She knew she would have a dreamless sleep. She always did when she was with him.

Blake was fidgeting as Dean and Sam we’re chatting trying to figure out what their latest Monster was. She was overtired, stressed out and irritated with Dean’s constant flirting with anything that had breasts.

“So, to recap, the only successful intel we've scored so far is the bartender's phone number.” Blake clenched her jaw as Dean smirked. She was waiting for Sam’s smart ass response when he got up from the table and was walking away from them. Dean looked confused and alarmed. They watched as Sam approached a blonde woman at another table. Sam put his hand on her shoulder. Her face lit up in recognition. Blake and Dean stood to see who this girl hugging Sam was.

“I thought you were going to California? Sam was questioning her. Blake wasn’t crazy about how she was looking at Sam. Something about her was off.

“Oh, I did. I came, I saw, I conquered. Oh, and I met what's-his-name, something Michael Murray at a bar.” Blake rolled her eyes when Sam had no idea who she was talking about. “Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while.” Dean was trying to get their attention but was being ignored so Blake interjected herself into the conversation.

“You’re from Chicago?” Blake Feigned interest.

“No, Massachusetts—Andover. Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we'd run into each other?” She was gushing and trying way too hard.

“Yeah, I know, I thought I'd never see you again.” “Well, I'm glad you were wrong.” Blake wanted to puke. This girl was laying it on thick and was super fake. Sam finally acknowledged her and Dean.

“Meg, this is, uh—this is my brother, Dean and our best friend Blake.” Meg didn’t try to mask her surprise.

“This is Dean?” Meg completely ignored Blake. Dean gave Meg his Winchester grin.

“So, you've heard of me?”

“Oh, yeah. I've heard of you. Nice—the way you treat your brother like luggage. Why don't you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over God's green earth.”

“Um excuse you bitch. Don’t talk to him like that. You don’t even know him.” Blake pushes her way infront of Dean. Sam jumped in before it escalated any further.

“Blake stop. Meg, it's all right.” Blake didn’t know if she wanted to punch Sam or Meg more.

Dean let out a low whistle before speaking. “Okay, awkward. We’re gonna get a drink now. C’mon sweetheart.” Dean took Blake’s hand and led her towards the bar. Dean was making eyes at Blake once they got away from Sam and Meg and Blake was ignoring him. “You’re pretty sexy when you play white knight to my damsel.” When she turned and looked at him, her expression told him he shouldn’t have said that.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me? I’m sure you said something similar to our bartender and your friend at the Police Station.” Her arms were crossed in-front of her further showcasing her irritation. “Screw this. I’m heading back to the motel. Enjoy your drinks.” Before Dean could stop her she was headed out the door and across the street to their motel.

A little while later Sam and Dean we’re heading out to the Impala. “So Bee is going to be in a mood when we get back.” Sam hated when Blake was mad. She did an excellent job of punishing them when they crossed her.

“Yeah she’s pissed at both of us. But this Meg. Who the hell was she?” Sam shrugged at Dean.

“I don't really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don't know, man, it's weird.”

“And what was she saying? I treat you like luggage? What, were you bitchin' about me to some chick?” Dean was pissed too. He’d never laid eyes on her before. Sam sighed.

“Look, I'm sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that's not important, just listen—“

“Well, is there any truth to what she's saying? I mean, am I keeping you against your will, Sam?”

“No, of course not. Now, would you listen? I think that there's something strange going on here, like our kind of strange. Like, maybe even a lead. I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don't think that's a little weird?” Dean wasn’t so sure.

“I don't know, random coincidence. It happens.” Dean shrugged off Sam’s suspicions.

“Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong, I'm just sayin' that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on.” Dean gave Sam another smirk.

“Well, I bet you'd like to. I mean, maybe she's not a suspect, maybe you've got a thing for her. Maybe you're thinking a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?” Sam groaned.

“Do me a favor. Go talk to Blake and make sure she’s okay. She’s been on edge for a few weeks. Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor. I'm gonna watch Meg.” Sam rolled his eyes as Dean started laughing. I just wanna see what's what. Better safe than sorry.”

“All right, you little pervert. You just want to avoid Blake until I calm her down.” Sam gave Dean a dirty look, getting irritated look. “I’m going... I'm going.” Dean gave Sam one last grin and headed across the street to their Motel.

Dean was sitting at the computer researching Meg waiting for Blake to come out of the bathroom. She had been taking a bath when he got back. Not that she had responded to him when he called her name, but he could smell her bubble bath as the scent seeped under the bathroom door. She had been moody for days. He knew it was from the lack of sleep and stress, but it was still unsettling none the less. She never got jealous. He flirted with women in front of her all of the time. He would be lying if he didn't admit to himself that it thrilled him that she got jealous over him. Sam had made it clear that Blake had moved on, but he never would. She would always own a part of him, no matter where life took them. He looked up when he heard the bathroom door open and his mouth went dry. Her curly hair was pulled back into what was her signature messy bun and she was clad in what seemed to be the shortest charcoal pajama shorts he had ever seen her in and a matching cropped tank top. If she was trying to punish him to prove a point, it was working. When she ignored him and went to her bag, Dean picked up his cell phone to call Sam to distract himself.

Blake smirked internally at the expression on Dean's face. She knew what she was doing to him, and he deserved it. She pretended to not pay any attention to him, she knew it was childish, but she couldn't help herself. She looked over when she heard his voice and knew he was talking to Sam.

"Let me guess. You're lurkin' outside that poor girl's apartment, aren't you?" She wished she could hear Sam's end of the conversation "You've got a funny way of showin' your affection... Sorry, man, she checks out. There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phone book. I even pulled up her high school photo. Now, look, why don't you go knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?" Blake rolled her eyes at Dean's teasing. "Yeah, that I did have some luck with. The symbol, It's, uh—turns out it's Zoroastrian. Very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It's a sigil for a Daeva. It translates to "demon of darkness". Zoroastrian demons, and they're savage, animalistic, you know, nasty attitudes—kind of like, uh, demonic pit bulls." Dean paused while Sam responded. "Give me some credit, man. You don't have a corner on paper chasing around here... No, I called Dad's friend, Caleb. He told me, all right?" Dean had a look of defeat on his face. Truth be told, he was just as smart as Sam, he just hid it from everyone. Dean continued his conversation with Sam. "Anyway, here's the thing—these Daevas, they have to be summoned, conjured. And, from what I gather, it's pretty risky business, too. These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them. And, uh, the arms, and torsos." Blake turned to focus on what Dean was saying. As much as she wanted to play the game with him, this was too important to not really listen. "Well, nobody knows what they look like, nobody's seen ‘em for a couple of millennia. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? Someone really knows their stuff. I think we've got a major player in town. Now, why don't you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?" Blake snickered. One of Dean's favorite forms of entertainment was torturing Sam. "No, bite her. Don't leave teeth marks, though—Sam? Are you—?" Dean pulled his phone away from his ear and looked at it, Sam had clearly hung up on him.

"I mean, I'm surprised he didn't hang up on you sooner." Blake kept her voice even. Her heart was racing and her hands felt sweaty. Dean hadn't made her nervous in a long time, but the look in his eyes made the butterflies in her stomach come alive. His green eyes narrowed on her, lips slightly pursed. All she wanted to do was grab his face and kiss him, to make him forget about the bartender and any other girl he had ever encountered.

"So she speaks. Still mad at me sweetheart?" He watched as her nostrils flared slightly and then she turned away from him. He stood when she didn't respond and she felt his presence behind her and then his breath on her neck. "I asked you a question you know." He watched as goosebumps erupted down her neck and shoulder. It made him proud to know that he could still affect her like that.

"I heard you Dean." Her voice was low and breathy. She felt his hands on her hips. She didn't think that he could stand any closer to her. He was so close he had to be able to feel her heart pounding. She felt the stubble on his chin scratch against her shoulder. She didn't understand how her mouth could go dry and water at the exact same time.

"It's rude to ignore people. Does it still make you jealous? Me flirting with other girls?" "Think about how you would feel if you saw me fawning over a cute detective or getting the number of a bar tender? Going home with him. Letting him touch me."

"I would hate it. It would drive me insane.” He admitted. She felt his nose against her ear. This shouldn't be happening, they shouldn't be this close, but she didn't have it in her to push him away or tell him no. She groaned when she felt his teeth graze her earlobe. "It drives me crazy even thinking about it." She held her breath as he kissed down her neck and shoulder. She felt his hand slide around to her stomach and he pulled her tighter. She was wrong, he could get closer to her.

"Dean..." Her voice came out in a whine. Her mind was trying to protest. There was too much at stake for the two of them to get distracted.

"Do you ever think about that night?" She swallowed but didn't answer. "I know you know what I'm talking about. That night at the beach, before everything went to hell. I think it about it all the time. You and me, your skin against mine. I've never not thought about it. It was the best night of my life. You know I'd always choose you, over anyone else. It's always you." Her heart overran her brain and she turned herself to face him. Their eyes locked and his lips were crashing into hers. Years of need and want coming out in the kiss. She felt his hands roaming her body as she ran hers up the back of his neck into his hair. She loved him. She had always loved him. She always would. It was always Dean. She peeled his button down off his torso, running her hands down his arms and underneath his shirt. He was pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth and then plunging his tongue back into her mouth. She felt his hand slide up and he grazed her nipple with his thumb over her top. His other arm circled her waist and his hand spreading across the small of her back. Kissing him was like something inside of her was coming up for air. She became alive. Where this was going, they would never know because Sam burst into the room at they jumped apart. Blake rushed into the bathroom shutting the door behind her and leaned against it.

There was no way Sam didn't know what was going on when he walked in. What the hell was she doing? It was a bad idea, she knew it was a bad idea. But it was Dean. Bad idea or not, her want for him out rode any common sense she had. She heard Sam talking when she opened the door after she had composed herself.

"Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing. She was talking into that bowl, The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone." Sam's and Blake's eyes met and she felt the heat creep up her face.

"Who was she communicating with? The Daeva?" She asked, cringing as her voice cracked.

"No, like Dean said, those things were savages. No, this was someone different. Someone who's giving her orders. Someone who's coming to that warehouse." Sam and Blake watched Dean as the wheels in his head were clearly turning. He sat down at the table looking through some files.

"Holy crap." Blake and Sam gave Dean a questioning look and he continued.

"What I was gonna tell you earlier—I pulled a favor with my – my – friend, Amy, over at the police department.." He barely made eye contact with Blake as she crossed her arms in front of her. "The complete records of the two victims—we missed something the first time. The first victim, the old man—he spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn't born here. He was born in Lawrence, Kansas. Meredith, second victim—turns out she was adopted. And guess where she's from? Lawrence, Kansas." Blake visibily went pale and Sam sat down next to Dean at the table with a look of disbelief.

"Holy Crap. I mean, it is where the demon killed Mom. That's where everything started. So, you think Meg's tied up with the demon?" Blake stood quietly as the two brothers were reeling.

"I think it's a definite possibility."

"What I don't understand is what's the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?" The boys looked over at Blake as she posed the question.

Dean shrugged at her. "Beats me. But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation." Sam shook his head at Dean. "No, we can't. We shouldn't tip her off. We've gotta stake out that warehouse. We've gotta see who, or what, is showin' up to meet her. "

"Sam's right. We need to know who is giving this Meg chick the orders to do this. There's a chance we wont get her to tell us if we interrogate her. It's a wasted opportunity." Dean hummed in agreement.

"I'll tell you one thing. I don't think we should do this alone." Blake watched as Dean pulled out his cell, undoubtedly to call John as she and Sam went out to the car to get together some weapons.

"So...sorry for interrupting earlier." Sam finally said after a few moments of them silently loading up the bag.

"Stop. I'm not doing this right now."

"Bee...it's okay. I'm not going to make fun of you. I just wish you guys would give in and be together." Blake stopped and looked at him, studying the sincerity on Sam's face.

"Sam...I just...I can't...I don't know. I think instead of resolving anything things are just more complicated and fucked up. But right now we have to focus on this." Sam nodded, he took her hand and squeezed it and then went back to loading up the back. As they entered the room again, they caught the tail end of Dean's voicemail to John.

"We think we've got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh, this warehouse—it's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can." Dean hung up and looked over at Sam and Blake carrying two full bags. "Jesus, what'd you get?" Both Blake and Sam grinned.

"We ransacked that trunk. Holy water, every weapon that I could think of, exorcism rituals from about a half dozen religions. I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything" Dean nodded and the three of them began loading their guns. After a while, Dean finally spoke."Big night."

Sam looked over at Dean. "Yeah. You nervous?"

"No. Why, are you?" Sam smiled at Dean.

"No. No way. God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?"

"We probably shouldn't get ahead of ourselves. You know, counting chickens and what not." Blake looked at both of the brothers and Sam shrugged.

"I'm just saying, what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school—be a person again. " Both Dean and Blake's eyebrows shot up, but Dean was the first to respond.

"You- You wanna go back to school?"

"Well Yeah, once we're done hunting the thing. Why, is there somethin' wrong with that?" Blake was praying this didn't end up in an argument. Dean took a deep breath to try and quell whatever he was feeling.

"No. No, it's, uh, great. Good for you. Sam."

Sam considered Dean for a moment before speaking. "I mean, what are you gonna do when it's all over?"

"It's never gonna be over. There's gonna be others. There's always gonna be something to hunt."

"But there's got to be somethin' that you want for yourself—" Dean interrupted Sam before he finished.

"Yeah, I don't want you to leave the second this thing's over, Sam."

"Dude, what's your problem?" Blake held her breath as Dean was silent for a few moments thinking before he responded. She wanted to punch Sam. How did he not get it?

"Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh? I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?"

"‘Cause Dad was in trouble. ‘Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom."

"Yes, that, but it's more than that, man." Blake stopped loading the back, incredibly interested in Dean's explanation. "You, Blake, me and Dad—I mean, I want us….I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again. " Blake felt her eyes fill with tears. She didn’t realize until they very moment that she wanted that too. She missed the way things were before too. All day, almost every day with Dean and Sam. Seeing John regularly.

"Dean, we are a family. I'd do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before." The look on Dean's face broke Blake's heart. Sam continued. "I don't want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way." Sam grabbed his stuff and headed out of the door to the Impala. Blake stood there for a moment and Dean turned to her.

"Are you going to leave me too when this is done?" The intensity in his eyes took her breath away. She crossed over to him and threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly to her.

"I'm never leaving you again. I promise you. Whether Sam stays or goes, whether your father stays with us or goes out on his own. It'll be you and me, always. I told you when you came to a California that the life Sam wants, it’s not for me. It didn’t stick. This is what I want ."

"Pinky Promise?" She heard him say into her shoulder. She closed her eyes for a moment and kissed his cheek.

"Always Dee.”

Blake, Sam and Dean climbed the elevator gate and reached the top room of the warehouse to see Meg at the altar speaking the ancient language Sam bears when he was there before. The 3 of them quietly squeezed their way through the small space near the grate. Blake was shocked when she heard Meg’s voice.

“Guys...hiding is a bit childish don’t you think? Why don’t you come out?” Blake’s adrenaline was pumping. Something about this was very very wrong. “Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, tell me about it” Dean was looking around.

“So, where's your little Daeva friend?” Meg smirked.

“Around. You know, that shotgun's not gonna do much good.” Dean didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. The shotgun's not for the demon.” Blake was about to say something but Sam beat her to it.

“So, who is it, Meg? Who's coming? Who are you waiting for?” Blake’s eyes went wide when she saw the shadows forming on the walls.

“You, of course.” Meg grinned. The shadow demon knocked Sam to the ground and threw Dean and Blake into a pile of crates. Blake felt her neck snap back and the corner of a crate knocked her unconscious.

When Blake came to, she and the boys were tied to separate posts. Sam and Dean were next to each other while there was a decent distance between the two of them and her. She felt bile rising in her throat as her head pounded. She vaguely heard Sam and Dean as she concentrated on not emptying her stomach.

“This, the whole thing, was a trap. Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearing what you had to say. It was all a set-up, wasn't it? And that the victims were from Lawrence?”

Meg laughed and shrugged. “It doesn't mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that's all.”

Blake furrowed her eyebrows. “You killed those two people for nothing?!” Meg laughed at her.

“Baby, I've killed a lot more for a lot less.” Blake shivered, her head still pounding. When Meg’s attention turned to Dean, Blake started working on getting the rope around her wrist cuts with the small knife up her Sleeve. Dean smiled at Meg. “You trapped us. Good for you. It's Miller time. But why don't you kill us already?” Meg scoffed.

“Not very quick on the uptake, are we? This trap isn't for you.”

Sam’s face lit up with recognition. “Dad. It's a trap for Dad.”

Dean laughed at Meg again. “Oh, sweetheart—you're dumber than you look. 'Cause even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn't walk into something like this. He's too good.”

“He is pretty good. I'll give you that.” Meg walked over to Dean and straddled his legs. Blake worked harder ready to rip her face off. “But you see, he has one weakness. You. He lets his guard down around his boys and pseudo daughter, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he is in town. And he'll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody—nice and slow and messy.” Blake knew Meg was right. Trap or not, John Winchester would come.

“Well, I've got news for ya. It's gonna take a lot more than some….shadow to kill him.” Dean had so much faith in his father.

“Oh, the Daevas are in the room here—they're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see.” Blake was almost free when Sam started talking.

“Why you doin' this, Meg? What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?”

“I'm doing this for the Same reasons you do what you do—loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy—and Jess.” Sam told her to go to Hell. “Baby, I'm already there. Come on, Sam. There's no need to be nasty. I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know, I saw you watching me—changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn't it? I didn't mind. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun.” Blake was certain she was going to vomit when Meg started kissing Sam’s neck. She stopped when she heard Dean messing with the knife and ropes behind him. “Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?” Sam smiled at her.

“No. No. That's because I have a knife of my own.” Sam broke free at the same time Blake did. He head butted her as Blake ran for the Altar and flipped it over and watched as the Shadow Demon appeared and went after Meg. The last thing Blake remembered seeing was Meg go over the ledge before the searing pain in her head caused everything to go black.

Blake remained unconscious when the Shadow Demon attacked the three of them and John. Luckily it hadn’t laid hands on her. Dean looked in the rear view mirror of the car and watched her for a moment. He had laid her in the back. He knew she was going to be furious when she woke up and found out John had been there and left before she woke up and had a chance to talk to him. Dean knew she had questions of her own.

John had sat down on the bed next to Blake and brushed the hair off of her forehead with a distant smile. Regardless of what had happened he missed her and much as Blake missed him. He had protected her from the Demon and thrown her over his shoulder to get her out of that hotel room. John hesitated leaving and stared at her for a moment. He kissed her forehead and told Dean to tell her he was sorry and that he would see her soon.

“Should we have taken her to the hospital?” Sam looked back at Blake with worried eyes.

“Maybe? I don’t know. She would be even more pissed than she’s already going to be.”

“I still think he should have stayed with us.” Dean was exhausted and he couldn’t have this argument with Sam again so he focused on the road. “Dean- what’s...what’s going on with the two of you?” Dean looked over at Sam.

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Do you want to be with her?” Dean looked at Blake in the rear view mirror again.

“If that’s what she wants. I think she’s scared.” Sam nodded.

“I know she is. Dean, just be careful okay?”

“What? You really think I’d hurt her?”

“God no- the opposite. I think if anyone hurt anyone, she’d hurt you. Not intentionally. She’s like a baby deer, spooks easily.” Dean looked over at Sam.

“I’ll give her anything she wants. She wants me? I’m hers. She wants someone else and I’ll walk her down the aisle.” Sam looked over at the serious look on Dean’s face.

“Trust me. She marries anyone it’ll be you. I don’t know that she will ever trust anyone else the way she does you.” Sam saw a ghost of a smile on Dean’s face as he looked at you again. “Just give her time to realize she wants it.”

It had been weeks since John disappeared again and Blake was still raging. Dean admitted that Sam had wanted John to stay. Dean didn’t want Sam to be punished for the decision Dean and John made. It had been weeks and Blake was still ragingly angry. She had left John a few voicemails with some choice words. For Dean, she had no words. Dean wasn’t surprised she wasn’t talking to him. He knew she thought John had answers about her mother, but it wasn’t the time. With their closing in on the yellow eyed demon, the focus had to be there. Whatever was on deck for Blake would have to wait.l, so Dean let her punish him with silence and glares.

He knew she was pissed when the motels that didn’t have a couch had her sharing a bed with Sam, which meant she slept even less than usual. A sleep deprived pissed off Blake was treacherous and it seemed everything Dean did pissed her off. He wished she would get over it, but he knew that wasn’t happening any time soon. It seemed like any time the two of them got close to being something...John or Sam somehow ended up muddying the waters. Blake became increasingly obsessed with finding as much info about her mother and her past as she could. She refused to work the cases that John pointed them to. She sat out the last 3, doing her own thing in each town. She didn’t tell Sam what she was doing or what she was looking for. As far as Sam knew, she was rebelling against Dean and John.

Sam was sure Blake had never been this quiet in her life. Blake was a talker who couldn’t stand long stretches of silence. She spent most of her time glued to her laptop or earbuds in her ears while in the car. The tension in the car rides was getting to Sam. Plus they could have really used her help during this case in Poughkeepsie. She would have figured it out a lot quicker than he and Dean had.

So Sam was going to stay behind with Sarah for a bit. He and Dean decided it was time to take a breather until they knew what their next steps from John were. Blake and Dean would be on the move and Sam would join them later. He was hoping the time alone would allow them to figure their crap out. He wanted to be just that Blake was keeping something from him, but he knew her. She kept things close to the vest until she had all of the information. Dean was the keeper of most of her secrets. But Sam had a few of hers too. The relationship between Blake and Dean was special. Sam has finally come to realize that he didn’t need to be jealous. She was his best friend, but she was hopelessly in love with his brother. She just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

Blake approached Sam with the biggest smile he’d seen on her face in weeks and it was genuine. He knew it was because she was happy that he was ready to move on from Jess. It amazed him that no matter how messed up she felt on the inside, she always tabled it when she had a reason to be happy for someone else. Her empathy was moving. She threw her arms around his neck to hug him and squealed when he lifted her off the ground.

“I’m proud of you Sammy. Jess would be too. She wouldn’t want you holding on to her. She’d want you to be happy. You deserve a little happiness. But if shit gets weird, you call me and I’ll rescue you.” He laughed, deep down in his belly

“My hero.” She kissed his cheek after he set her down. “You going to be okay?” He looked over at the Impala and Dean. She nodded her head. “Look- I know there’s something you’re not telling me. And it’s okay. I know it’s something he knows and it has to do with my Dad. Just- maybe forgive him okay? Or at least try for me. He was terrified that night that something was going to happen to my Dad. And then you and the blow to the head...he knew you were going to be angry and trust me, he struggled. But he did what he thought would keep everyone the safest. And you not talking to him? It’s killing him. Please, while In gone, figure it out. We need you in cases. You’re too smart. And when you’re ready, you can tell me about it.” He saw tears in her eyes. She was tough as nails but had absolutely no poker face when it came to her emotions.

“I love you Sammy. Oh! I put condoms in your bag. Don’t be silly, cover your willy.” She pointed at him and doubled over laughing when his face got bright red.

“I hate you.” He mumbles and walked her over to the car and opened her door for her. “Oh, and Bee, I took your ear buds.” He slammed the door before she could react. And hit the top of the Impala to signal that Dean could take off. She crossed her arms in front of her and sunk down in her seat. Dean looked over at her. Angry or not, she looked adorable when she pouted.

Blake hadn't said two words since they had gotten in the car. It had taken Dean a while to decide where they were going to go and then it was like a light bulb went off in his head. He was desperate to make things with Blake right, so he headed towards Maryland. Blake loved the coast. She loved the salty ocean air. She always clarified that she hated dirty muddy lakes, but the ocean made her come alive. Dean knew it was nostalgic. Her beginning years she had lived in Virginia near the coast. He had seen her face a few times when the ocean air blew through her hair, he rarely saw her at peace like that.

He looked over at her, his eyes raked over her bare legs in her denim shorts and tank top. She might be pissed at him, but it didn't stop her from stealing one of his button downs. He couldn't stop himself, he reached over and took her hand and held it tight when she tried to yank it away. He kept his eyes on the road as her eyes burned with fury as she stared at him. She pulled her right knee up to her chest and rested her chin on it. He felt her hand relax and then she laced her fingers within his. He felt the first tiny crack in her icy exterior. Dean smiled to himself. By the time Sam was back, he was convinced they'd be back to normal. He saw the second crack form when the recognition of where they were headed hit her. She knew Dean was taking her somewhere along the East Coast. He felt her squeeze his hand in anticipation. She still hadn't said anything, but the squeeze of his hand was all he needed. He looked at the gas gauge and decided to pull off into the Gas and Sip that was coming up on the right. After he had set the gas up to pump he came around the car as Blake was getting out. After she shut her door she turned around to head into the store but Dean had her caged in by both hands on each side of her on the Impala.

"I'm not letting you go until we talk. Actually talk, no yelling or swearing at me." He saw the stubbornness flash in her eyes. He knew at that moment is more about her standing her ground than actually still being mad at him. "I'm not kidding. We'll stay right here. Sammy can come meet us at this gas station when he's done with whatever it is he's doing. When Blake tried to look away he hooked his right hand under her chin and turned her face back to him. "I said I was sorry. I know you're pissed. I know he wont call you back. I'm sorry. I was too afraid that being with us was going to get him killed. I was even more afraid that him being with us would get YOU killed. You were unconscious for hours. You missed a demon attack. If you hadn't woken up when you did, you would have woken up in a hospital. I was terrified. And what if he was with us and the Yellow Eyed Demon showed and you couldn't defend yourself? It's after my father now. You being anywhere near him isn't safe." Blake swallowed the lump in her throat. The truth was, she wasn't angry with Dean, not anymore. She was just angry and she was childishly taking it out on him because she didn't have any place else to direct it. She felt the pad of his thumb swipe an errand tear off of her cheek.

"You're right." She finally relented.

"I'm sorry...one more time for those in the back row?" She glared at him and he gave her his winning Winchester grin.

"I'm just so angry Dean. I feel like it's going to bubble over the top. I feel like if I don't direct it at something it's going to consume me. I was mad at you when I found out, and it was easier to just stay mad at you than to try and navigate this. I'm sorry for abandoning you and Sam on the last few cases. I just...I...I don't know what to do with myself. I keep feeling the edges of memories pushing to break through the seams, but they just can't shake loose. I know your father knows something...I know he's keeping something from me. And I should know what it is. I wasn't a baby when they died...when they killed her. I was 12. I should remember better."

"I promise you...we will figure this out. I just, I can only deal with one crisis at a time. This thing that killed my mom and Jess...we're closest to that. Let's see it through and then I swear to you that I will do whatever I can to help you put the pieces together. I'll hunt my father down myself, regardless of what he wants I will make him give you answers. Just hang in there with me for a little bit longer sweetheart, okay?" Blake nodded. Dean pressed his lips to her forehead and wrapped his arms around her for a moment with his chin on the top of her head. "Alright, go in, grab us some snacks. And if you promise not to come out with any of the crap you buy Sam I'll let you choose the music until we get to Ocean City." Blake beamed at him with a knowing smile. He watched her walk into the store, his shirt flowing behind her, ready to enjoy a few relaxing and tension free days with her.

#supernatura #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #supernatural imagines #supernatural fanfic #spn #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn imagines #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x ofc #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x ofc #dean winchester #castiel #John Winchester #John Winchester x OFC

29 notes · View notes

bingsubinnie · 6 years ago

Text

MIROH: Ch. 1

MIROH: A Stray Kids MazeRunner! AU

Reader-insert: Female (1st person) Pairing: Changbin x Reader (ot9 x reader friendships) Genre: Dystopian, MazeRunner!au, Romance Warning: mentions of depression Word Count: 5.7k

Disclaimer: I do not own the Maze Runner. It is a fantastic series written by James Dashner which I highly recommend! (Also, the beginning of this is the same as the preview. Don’t worry, the new stuff is after that :D)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bang.

I immediately shot awake, my sudden movements knocking me off balance and straight into the hard surface behind me. I gasped for breath, the sudden fall knocking the air out of my lungs. Peeling an eye open, I took in my surroundings. The four cold, metal walls of a box rose up around me. Wooden boxes and old-fashioned crates were stacked in the corner. It was dark – so dark – with the exception of an eerie red light somewhere far above me. I didn’t have time to observe much else about my current confinement before it suddenly shot upwards. I yelped in surprise as inertia pushed me flat against the floor of the box. Loud clangs reverberated around me, making any logical thought process impossible. Beginning to hyperventilate, I couldn’t contain the scream that echoed off of the walls, only serving to disorient myself further. Suddenly, after what seemed like ages, the upward motion suddenly halted, throwing me back against the floor again. I let out a groan, rubbing my head to ease the throbbing. Peering upwards, I could barely make out what seemed to be the top of the elevator shaft, or whatever you would call the thing I was in. The crates in the corner began to rattle, fear suddenly settled deep in my bones and I began to shout while banging my fist against the side of the metal box.

“Hey! Let me out! Help!” I was so consumed in my plea for assistance, that I didn’t notice the giant iron doors above me slide open until I was blinded by the sunlight. Cowering away from the burning in my eyes, I finally blinked them open.

“Ay, it’s a greenie.”

“Ah, look at him, he’s a puny one, he is.”

The sudden presence of voices didn’t comfort me like you would think. I was terrified, barely able to understand the words they were saying. All until that one sentence.

“Uh, I don’t think the greenie’s a dude.”

I finally looked up.

“No, that ain’t no shucking boy.”

Faces loomed over the opening, causing me to squeak and shuffle backwards.

“Alright, everyone move back. You’re scaring her.”

Surprisingly, though not without grumbles, most of the faces did disappear.

“Aight’, don’t freak out, greenie. I’m going to come down there and get you out, ok?”

I flinched as the floor shuddered as a boy jumped down into the box. With pitch black hair and a short but sturdy stature, his expression was neutral, but there was no hostility.

“Come on, greenie. My name is Changbin, and I’m gonna help you get out of here. Come on, now. Stand up.”

With apprehension, I gingerly took his hand. He deftly pulled me to my feet, leading me to the side of the cage.

“Ay, shanks! Stop your staring and let the rope down!”

A rope was thrown down. The boy, Changbin, who was actually about my height, tied a loop at the end before motioning me to put my foot in it. I just stared at it. He must have sensed my nervousness, because he immediately shoved me (albeit gently) towards the rope.

“Come on, you can’t stay here forever.”

The rope was suddenly jerked upwards and I was pulled to the top. Hands grabbed my arms pulled me over the ledge until I was standing in the middle of a groups of boys. I flinched as jeers erupted around me.

“That ain’t a regular shank, that’s for sure.”

“Wow, she’s hot.”

“I call dibs on the girl-shank!”

“What?”

“No way!”

“Dude, she’s mine.”

Suddenly, a voice from below us rang out.

“She’s no one’s. And I’m still down here by the way, so stop staring at the girl and get me up.”

After Changbin was pulled up from the box, a voice from my left spoke up.

“Welcome to the glade, greenie.” A boy with dark curly hair was speaking. He had a commanding aura about him, but he flashed a bright smile. There was an accent to his voice, one I couldn’t name, but somehow could recognize.

It was then that I first looked past the group of boys. I looked to be standing in the middle of a giant field. There was a garden in one corner, a forest in another, sheep and cows grazing, small shacks and hammocks. It all would have been rather comforting if it weren’t for the huge stone walls that surrounded and boxed us in. I looked around, noticing a giant gap in each of the four sides.

“Wha-t“ My voice broke with unuse. Snickers echoed around as the boy shot a glare at the offenders.

“What’s your name, greenie?”

“It’s-“ I suddenly realized I didn’t know. Eye’s widening, I began to panic, racking my brain for the answer. Suddenly, my eye caught again on something in the far corner of the field. The gaps. Seeing an escape, I began to make my way there, slowly

“Hey, Hey, it’s ok, greenie. This is normal, it’ll come to you eventually.” The boy said, trying to calm me down, but my mind was now elsewhere. As if suddenly noticing my distracted state, he looked to where my attention seemed to be. “Oh, uh, that’s- Hey! Come back, it’s not safe!” He yelled after me as I pushed my way through the crowd, ignoring the looks I was getting.

I immediately broke out into a dead sprint towards the gap in the wall. The more the group behind me yelled for me to stop, the faster I ran. I had almost made it to the gap when I made out what they were saying behind me.

“Jisung, get her!”

A movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention, but before I could look, he was already on me.

“I’m so sorry!” A voice exclaimed, right before I was tackled to the ground. My head slammed into the dirt and I groaned as the weight on top of me quickly rolled off.

“Shuck, are you okay?”

My eyes fluttered open to see a concerned face hovering above me.

“Sorry, I was just trying to save you.”

My head pounded and I shut my eyes again as I felt the footfalls of others through the ground.

“Alright, take her to the slammer, I guess. I feel bad, I’d take her to the homestead, but she’d be safer in the slammer.” The boy who’d talked to me in front of the group was speaking now.

Changbin, the boy who’d gotten me up from the freaky elevator, grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

My head throbbed once more, and I stumbled dizzily. Seeing that I obviously was in no shape to walk, the boy sighed and effortlessly scooped me up. Despite my struggling, he carried me easily, and I eventually just slumped in his hold. It felt like only a second, but soon he was setting me down on a packed earth floor. I was barely conscious as I saw him look at me for a long second, before turning and shutting the barred door behind him. Glancing around, I saw that he had taken me to what seemed to be a small room dug into the ground, the top covered with a cage like structure made from what looked like bamboo.

“Hey,” a soft voice was at the door.

Immediately, my head snapped over, eyes clenching shut at the sudden throbbing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Chan, the leader of this glade. I know that you’re scared and that you have no idea where you are, but I promise those questions will be answered soon. Don’t worry about being here, you’re not in trouble and we don’t hate you. We do this for every greenie. We’re just making sure that you can calm down, and we’re trying to keep you safe. Okay? Whatever you do, don’t go into that maze. We’re trying to help you, okay?”

His gaze is earnest, and when I don’t respond he asks “Okay?” again.

I nod, and he smiles.

“Okay, good. I’ll see you when you get out. Woojin, our cook, will be here sometime soon with some food.” He gives me one more parting smile, and then jogged off.

With all that had happened since I’d woken up in the box, I couldn’t keep my eyes open and I fell asleep almost immediately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up to the sound of tapping on the door.

There’s a boy with pretty honey-colored hair crouching at the doorway. Something smells really good, and as I sit up, I notice that it’s the food he’s carrying.

“Here. I’m sure you’re hungry, it’s been one fine shucking day for you, hasn’t it?” his smile was warm, and I couldn’t help but smile back slightly as I received the food.

“Don’t really know what that means, but yeah, sounds about right.” I mumble, taking a bite of what looks to be some sort of meat.

He chuckles at my response, cocking his head slightly to the side. “I’m Woojin, by the way. I’m sure Chan mentioned this, and it seems pretty apparent, but I’m the cook.”

I nodded, far too engrossed in how good this food was.

“Wow, this is really, really good. Thank you.”

“Ah, it’s no problem. But I’d better get goi-“

“Wait!” I cut him off. He stops, looking slightly surprised.

“I’m sorry, but could you- could you possibly stay for a little bit?” I set the food down, suddenly queasy. “I still don’t really know what’s going on, or why I’m here. I have so many questions and no answers.”

Woojin looked around and sighed before sitting himself down by the door.

“Okay, go ahead. I can stay for a little bit, but I’m really not supposed to be doing this, alright? Ask away.”

Over the next 20 minutes, I asked him as many questions as I could think of. I learned that I was in what they called the glade and that I was a glader like everyone else. Woojin said that the reason everyone had freaked out when I’d run for the gap was because that was the maze. Apparently, the maze was a very dangerous place, and they’d lost many a glader to the depths of it. According to him, there were only a few people who were allowed to go out into it, and they were hand-chosen by the council, Chan, and his second in command, Seungmin.

“Ahh, that’s why everyone was yelling at me.” I mused, chewing a mouthful of potatoes.

He laughed in surprise, “You didn’t hear what we were saying?”

“No, I was far too focused on running away from my problems to realize I was running into a bigger one.”

Woojin chuckled as I finished the last of my food. I laughed as well, but the motion made my head start to pound again. However, somehow this was worse than it had been earlier. Instead of plateauing like it had before, the pain just kept rising. Burying my head between my knees, I couldn’t contain my whimpers. The door opened quickly, and he dropped down beside me. His hands were on my shoulders.

“Are you ok?” He asked, tilting my head up so that he could see my eyes. His form wavered as my eyes filled with tears. Not knowing what to do to help, he just crushed me to his chest. The pain rose higher and higher until it felt like my head would explode as I hyperventilated into his shirt. Suddenly, within a second it was gone. It left one thing behind. My name.

I gasped, sitting back from Woojin.

“What-“

“Y/N!”

“What?”

“My name is y/n!”

“Oh, that’s great! Welcome to the glade, y/n!”

He made a sound of surprise as I threw my arms around him, but chuckled, ruffling my hair. We stayed like that for a few more seconds before he stiffened suddenly.

“Sorry,” He scrambled back, “I wasn’t supposed to stay this long, I have to go. I think someone’s coming.”

“Ok, thank you for staying with me for a while.”

"Of course! See you tomorrow, Y/n.”

He grabbed my plate and made his way back towards the lights in the middle of the field. I blinked at that observation. When Woojin had arrived with the food, it had been in the evening, but still bright out. However, now it was nearly dark as dusk fell. I heard footsteps coming near, so I quickly laid back as if I was asleep. I shut my eyes and listened. They stopped in front of the door, paused, then there was the sound of the door opening.

Something warm was draped over my body, which I had just realized was shivering uncontrollably. There was a soft sigh before my head was gently lifted up and set back down on a significantly softer surface. The person then walked back to the door and shut it behind them. Very quickly, I cracked an eye open to see a boy of shorter stature walking away.

The corner of my mouth quirked upwards and I fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on, greenie. Get up.”

I was awoken by a nudge to my ribcage.

“What-?” I mumbled, still dazed.

“Greenie. Get up, we don’t have all day.”

This boy’s tone and attitude irked me, and I opened my eyes to see a boy with black hair picking at one of his nails moodily.

“Look, I know I’m the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen, but can you actually do something other than gawk at me? We’re on a schedule here.”

“I wasn’t staring. Sorry for bothering you.” I mumbled, not only angry because of his uncalled-for attitude, but also because he was right: he was unfairly attractive.

“Yeah, right, and Chan has a healthy sleep schedule. You’re forgiven.”

I scoffed but got up anyway. Not like I had much of a choice. Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders to ward off the coolness of the early morning, I followed the snarky boy out of the cage-like structure.

“Right, so welcome to the glade, and all that jazz.” The boy, whose name I found out was Minho, led me to various areas in the glade, including a small hole in the wall where I saw a griever for the first time. Needless to say, I was very happy that that Jisung boy had tackled me before I got to the maze: those things are terrifying. In fact, I was so scared that I nearly passed out when I lost my balance and fell backwards. Minho’s sarcastic persona even dropped for a second when he saw how truly paralyzed I was in fear. Helping me up, he ushered me away before dropping straight back into his previous attitude. I guess I appreciated him a little for that.

Between his bouts of complaining and sarcastic comments, I really did learn a lot. He showed me the areas of work in the glade, and each job there was. There were the trackhoes, the medjacks, the builders, the slicers, and the runners. He didn’t go into details about each job, saying that I would learn more tomorrow when I started shadowing each job, and also he “wasn’t paid enough for that”. As he mumbled about not being paid at all, actually, he mentioned something else under his breath about Chan keeping him back from running, since he knew he could trust him to give me the tour.

Suddenly, it all made sense.

“I’m sorry.”

He stopped talking, looking at me in genuine confusion. He must have sensed the sincerity in my tone because, for once, he didn’t make any sarcastic comments.

“I know this all happened because of me, but I really didn’t mean to affect anyone like this.”

“Oh- I-I mean, I guess it is your fault. But it can’t be helped, so forget about it, greenie.” His face flushed slightly. It was nearing the end of the tour and Minho brought me to the kitchen to get something to eat.

“Look,” He started, over a small lunch of sandwiches and soup, “please don’t take me too seriously. The longer you’re here, the more you’ll know that I’m just sarcastic 24/7. I’m sorry for taking all that out on you, I know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But better me than some dumb shank who doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.”

I paled slightly.

“Do you think that will really be an issue? Do you think there are really guys here who will… do something to me?”

He froze, looking like he was caught in the headlights.

“Do you want me to be completely honest with you?” he spoke finally.

“Always.”

He sighed.

“Possibly. You have to realize that some of us have been here for two years, and we’ve never seen a girl since we arrived. That doesn’t excuse anything, but that means that a few of the boys here are pretty desperate…” He paused for a few seconds before his eyes widened. “Not that they’d have to be desperate to find you attractive, I mean-“

“It’s ok, Minho,” I chuckled, “I knew what you meant.” He chuckled slightly as well, before turning serious once again.

“Ok, but, in all honesty, I think you’ll only have to worry about a few people. Chan had a long talk with everyone the night you arrived, so I believe the majority will give you the respect and space you deserve. If not, you’ll have me and the other keepers to watch out for you, so don’t worry.”

“Thank you.” I smiled, already feeling better about my situation, if only a little.

“Anytime, greenie.”

“What does that mean, anyway? Greenie? My name is y/n.”

“It’s a slang word, I guess. It just means the newest boy, or, in your case, girl, from the box.”

“Oh, slang. So like shuck and shank?”

He fell into such an explosive fit of laughter that I was startled.

“Did I say something wrong?”

He wiped a tear from his eye, “That sounds so weird coming from you.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.” He flashed a crooked smile and this time, I laughed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I saw my new bunkmates – hammock mates? – for the first time, they had just run into the maze from the east and north door respectively. I watched as the two boys saw the other and began to slow-motion run towards each other in what had to be the most over-the-top and dramatic way possible. Obviously wondering what had taken my attention away from our conversation, Minho looked over in the direction I was. Rolling his eyes, he got to his feet.

“Ok, greenie, let’s go.”

Slightly confused, I followed him as he walked towards the two runners.

“Uhhh,” I merely stood blinking as we finally reached them. They were completely preoccupied in what was apparently a….wrestling….match? The two of them were rolling on the ground and slapping each other. Whatever it was, Minho was obviously exasperated.

“Felix, Hyunjin, please get up off of the ground.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose in such a ‘I can’t believe this’ fashion that it caused me to have to muffle my snickers behind my hand. At the sound of my quiet laughter, the two boys looked up to see me standing beside Minho. Eyes widening, they scrambled to their feet and tried to brush themselves off.

“Uh, hello.” They both had lighter hair, though one’s was more of a light brown sugar color – slightly tinted peach – and the other was a light honey brown.

“Ok, y/n, these two idiots are your new bunkmates. Felix, Hyunjin, after you draw up your maps, show y/n where she can tie up her hammock. I’ve got to go talk with Chan, so see you all later.”

With that, Minho shoved me towards the boys and booked it towards the homestead. I merely blinked in shock at his retreating form.

“Traitor,” I whispered at his back into the awkward silence, narrowing my eyes as I turned back towards the two boys. “That guy, am I right?”

The boy with the sugar-peach hair – Felix, I remembered – snorted before it turned into a full-blown laugh that I and the other boy, Hyunjin, couldn’t help but join in on.

“I can already tell that we’re going to get along great, new friend!”

Hyunjin grinned and slung an arm over my shoulder, steering me in the direction of a small building a little way’s away. Felix laughed in agreement and jogged along in front of us. Somehow, I agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I spent the next hour sitting on one of the tables in the map room. Felix and Hyunjin were eager to answer any questions they were able to. Of course, most of the ones I asked pertained to their job: running.

“So, what exactly are you doing? I mean, I can see that you’re drawing maps, but...”

“Well, each day we run out, we memorize our paths. Our goal is to completely map out the maze and find the exit.” Felix explained in his surprisingly deep voice, nose nearly touching the table as he worked on a detail in his map. His accent matched the other boy, Chan’s, accent.

“Yeah, and so far, we’ve found that there is a pattern. Like, on Tuesday’s section four is open, but on Fridays, it’s section seven. The problem is, while we can predict sections, the contents of the sections change every night. Did you hear it last night?”

Immediately, I had an epiphany after hearing Hyunjin’s explanation. I remembered the terrifyingly loud grating noise I’d heard the night before, shortly after I’d fallen asleep.

“Was that what that was? Shuck, I almost had a heart attack.”

Suddenly, the two boys were nearly wheezing with laughter. I sighed, rolling my eyes.

“Sorry, it’s just- “

I cut Hyunjin off.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Minho already told me: I sound stupid trying to use your slang words. Look, I didn’t even mean to, it just slipped out. You all have been rubbing off on me.”

“Shuck, I almost had a heart attack.”

Even I couldn’t contain my laughter at Felix’s admittedly accurate impersonation of me.

“Ok, ok, I get it guys.” I acquiesced, still chuckling. “I guess I’ll only say it ironically.”

This sent the two boys into another fit of giggles. The door opened and all three of us looked over. There stood Minho, eyebrow raised in all of it’s snarky glory.

“Somehow, I knew it would be a disaster to put all three of you together.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” I exclaimed in playful indignance.

Hyunjin immediately caught on.

“Yeah, what do you mean disaster?”

“Are we doing something wrong? Isn’t this what you told us to do?” Felix chimed in.

Minho sighed.

“Hyunjin, Felix, it’s been an hour and a half since I left you all. Have you finished your maps yet?”

All three of us shot each other incredulous looks.

“An hour and a half? Shuck!” I exclaimed, before Felix, Hyunjin, and I simultaneously collapsed to the ground laughing.

“Oh, shuck!” Hyunjin chortled.

“Guys, just finish up quickly, alright? And, y/n, you still sound stupid.”

“Oh, you wound me, Minho.”

Minho left the map room shaking his head – albeit with a smile on his face, leaving laughter in his wake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, this is where you’ll be sleeping,” Felix announced, pointing to one of two open areas between three wooden posts. He flopped down on what I assumed was his hammock as Hyunjin did the same. There weren’t many other hammocks around us, and this section of the sleeping area definitely looked newer.

“So, how long have you all been here?” I asked as I unfolded the hammock that Seungmin had given me.

“Ah, I’ve been here for about five months.” Hyunjin sighed.

“And I came the very next month, so four.” Felix added.

“Yeah, and I’ve been stuck with this shank ever since. Did you know that he ran for the maze the first day as well?” The light-haired brunette asked.

“Really?” I laughed, glancing up at them as I tied one side of the hammock up.

“Yeah,” Felix grimaced, “and I was tackled, too.”

“By me, actually, that’s how all good friendships start. By tackling some idiot shank to the ground.”

I laughed.

“I guess that makes sense.”

After I tied the other side up, I slipped into my new bed….. and immediately, I dropped to the hard, packed earth floor with a muted thud.

Felix and Hyunjin were in hysterics as I tried to catch the breath that was knocked out of me.

“Are you okay?” Felix gasped, tears of laughter streaming down his face. He tried to get up to help me but ended up pointing and laughing some more instead.

“What do you mean ‘okay’?” I wheezed, “This was exactly what I wanted to happen. Hammocks are overrated, the ground is where it’s at.”

My dry statement caused Hyunjin to flip out of his hammock, and he began wheezing as well. Felix turned to point and laugh at him instead.

“Okay, can you stop laughing now and help me put this up, peach boy?” I asked.

“What boy?”

“Peach boy,” Hyunjin wheezed, this time in laughter.

“Yeah. Peach boy. You know, your hair?” I said, sitting up.

“Peach boy.” Hyunjin wheezed again.

“Oh, shut up, honey boy.” I turned to him.

“Honey boy!”

It was Felix’s turn to wheeze.

“You know,” Hyunjin sighed, “It’s not the worst… like peach boy.”

“Ok, honey boy.”

“Hey!” I interrupted their mini stare-off, “I don’t think either of them are bad, okay? But can you please just help me put this up? I lied earlier: the ground is NOT where it’s at.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

My hammock situation was easily remedied after Felix helped me tie the knots correctly. Soon afterwards, a bell rang and the three of us went to dinner. They went to go sit at a table with all of the runners, and I floundered slightly, unsure of where I should go.

“Y/n! Come on!” Hyunjin grinned, motioning me over. Smiling in relief, I sat down beside him as Felix settled down on my other side. They quickly introduced me to the other runners who stared at me a lot but seemed nice enough. Minho was talking to one of the other boys, I remember his name as Seungmin, but waved a little when he saw me.

Dinner was just as good as it had been the night before, but Woojin was too busy to have time to talk to me. When I expressed this to Felix, he just chuckled and said that I’d have plenty of time to talk to the cook tomorrow. Just as I was about to ask what he meant, a hand clasped my shoulder.

“Y/n, right?” It was Chan.

I grinned, “Yes, I remembered it last night.”

“Alright then.” He turned to address the eating gladers, “Everyone, this is Y/N. Please welcome her and treat her with respect. Y/N, we welcome you to the Glade!”

I flushed scarlet as everyone turned to look at me, cheering and clapping. Chan’s hand was still on my shoulder, and he motioned for me to get up and follow him. He led me outside into the impending dusk and stopped to talk a small distance from the cafeteria shelter.

“Hey, sorry about that. I saw that it embarrassed you, but that’s really the only way to introduce new gladers to everyone.” He gave me a friendly smile.

“Ah, it’s ok. I can handle it.”

He chuckled.

“Good. I wanted to talk to you about a few things. First thing is your schedule for the next two days. Every new glader goes through these same two days of basically job shadowing. You’ll shadow the keepers of each job here in the glade so that you can find something that you’re good at. So, tomorrow you’ll be shadowing Woojin in the morning before breakfast, work with Changbin in the late morning before lunch, and then you’ll go to the gardens with Seungmin after you eat. The next day, you’ll shadow the slicers and medjacks – or, well, singular medjack. Don’t really know the order yet, but whoever takes you will let you know then. Any questions about that?”

“No, not that I can think of.”

“Awesome. Okay, so the second thing.” He sighed. “Look, I am sure that you are well aware that you are the only girl here. I just want to let you know that if there’s anything you need, talk to any of the keepers or Hyunjin and Felix. We want to help you, and if anyone, and I mean anyone, makes you uncomfortable in any way, immediately tell one of us, okay? That will not be accepted in our glade from any glader. Shuck, if I make you uncomfortable, tell Changbin or something, okay?”

I giggled, heart warming as he spoke. I felt tears well up in my eyes at his thoughtful words.

“Okay, I will. Thank you.” I sniffled.

“Shuck, sorry. Didn’t mean to make you cry, are you okay? Did I already make you uncomfortable? I mean, go tell Changbin, he’s right over th -“

I cut him off by wrapping my arms tightly around him. He made a briefly surprised noise, before gently hugging me back.

“No, I’m just touched that you’re going out of your way to do all of this.” I mumbled into his shirt.

“But this is what you deserve, so don’t worry about it. We aren’t going out of our way.” He rubbed my back soothingly.

“If you say so, but really: thank you.” I sniffed once more before stepping back and wiping my eyes. “I better clean up before people think you did something to me.”

He chuckled, but turned serious once again “Seriously, though. Tell someone. It doesn’t matter how insignificant you think it might be, better to be safe than sorry.”

”Don’t worry, I will.”

“Alright, then. Let’s go back and eat! Shuck, I’m so hungry.” Chan groaned, flashing me another smile.

I followed the leader back to the shelter and slid back into my seat between Hyunjin and Felix.

“Hey, you’re back!” Felix cheered, “Have some more green beans!” He scooped his serving onto my plate.

“Okay, Felix. Are you giving me these out of the kindness of your heart, or because you don’t like green beans?”

“Uhhh…” Felix blinked, a blank expression on his face as Hyunjin nearly face-planted into his mashed potatoes in laughter. “…… can we add an option for both?”

Minho, who was sitting a spot or two away, snorted into his cup. I grinned at him before turning back to the boy in question.

“Sure, peach boy, we can do that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, I took my first shower in the shower house. They were pretty nasty, but I was far more concerned with getting three days-worth of grime off of me than worrying about the small spots of black mold in the corner of the shower. I can’t even explain how good it felt to scrub the dirt and sweat out of my h/l, h/c hair. I still didn’t have clothes of my own, so Hyunjin gave me one of his smaller shirts and a pair of pants with a drawstring. I kept my same underclothes obviously, but it was nice to have fresh clothes, even if they were still too big for me. When I walked out of the shower house, I spun around in front of Hyunjin – who had been guarding the door.

“How do I look?”

“Aww, you’re so cute!” He grinned, entire face scrunched up as he squished my cheeks.

“Hey,” I exclaimed, pushing his hands away, “You can’t touch me like that!”

“Oh!” He gasped, instantly serious and apologetic. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think- I didn’t mean-“

“No, no, no, Hyunjin.” I backtracked, waving my hands, “I was just joking.”

“Oh,” He groaned, looking relieved but awkward as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, I won’t joke about that again. I didn’t mean to upset you like that.”

“No, it’s ok. I just don’t want to cross any boundaries with you. You’ve been really fun to hang out with, and I don’t want to lose that.” His eyes were glassy as he explained himself.

“Hyunjin, I’m sorry.” I mumbled, feeling horrible. I could tell from the way that he interacted with Felix that he was naturally touchy, so me saying that when he had no bad intentions probably made him feel really insecure. Luckily for him, I was naturally touchy as well. “Hug me?”

He still looked hesitant, but I opened my arms with a smile.

“Come on, you know you want to.”

His frown stretched into a grin and he threw his arms around me. I laughed as we swayed back and forth.

“I’ll be your hug buddy, ok? … Gosh, that was cheesy.”

He giggled, nodding before pulling back.

“Let’s go before Felix gets worried. You’ve got to get up early, too, so you better get to bed.”

He linked my arm with his and we walked back to our hammocks.

Sure enough, Felix was pacing around our sleeping area.

“Ah, there you all are. I was starting to think that you all had run away together.”

“Yeah, right. Maybe if I thought there was something out there, I would.”

Hyunjin dropped my arm from his and plopped into his hammock, turning over in a way that clearly stated that he was upset and didn’t want to talk to anybody. Mouth agape, I turned to look at Felix to see if he understood what had just happened. He looked surprised, but much less so than I.

‘Is he okay?’ I mouthed, motioning towards the boy. Felix shrugged my concern off, ‘He will be, he does this sometimes.’

Nodding slowly, I turned to my hammock.

“Goodnight,” I whispered as I settled down to sleep.

“Goodnight,” an accented voice responded, followed by a weak “Night,” from the other boy.

This hammock was much more comfortable than the packed earth floor I had slept on yesterday, so I fell asleep almost immediately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

(edited)

A/N: SO here is the first full chapter of MIROH! Sorry if there are editing issues, I’ll probably come back to it tomorrow to make sure it’s edited right. I know I mentioned some things about their physical appearances, and I do have reference photos for each member. I will post those either tonight or tomorrow, but I’ll probably also do official moodboards at some point as well.

With love,

~Ash

26 notes · View notes

shannaraisles · 5 years ago

Text

Roll For Initiative

A commission piece for @lechatrouge673, who told me to write something that made me happy. So I ran with the DnD idea!

***

"All right, everyone ready? Settled in?"

Erin looked around the table, snorting with laughter at the sight of her brother, Patrick, attempting to steal yet more of Ana's pierogi off her plate, only to earn himself a slap on the hand and a sharp look. Across the table, Brian was finishing off his sandwich hurriedly, and Toby was - of course - going through his dice ritual to decide which ones made the cut for tonight. They were down a couple of players today, and a couple were going to be late, but that wasn't a game killer. What she had in mind for this weekend was adaptable.

"Recap away, noodle," Patrick managed through his last mouthful, wiping his hands as he did so.

"All right, then."

She drew in a slow breath, settling her thoughts, and began.

"Feeble Noobs ... "

Why did I ever let them call themselves that?

"Following a harrowing adventure in search of Andraste's Ashes, you succeeded in passing the Gauntlet of Faith, proving yourselves worthy to take a pinch of the Ashes back to Redcliffe to cure Arl Eamon and restore him to health. In gratitude for what you did, and for saving his son, as well as concern for the future of the country, he agreed to lend his voice in opposition to Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir in the upcoming Landsmeet. However, his plan involves supplanting Queen Anora, and putting Alistair on the throne instead, since your reluctant paladin is the illegitimate son of the former king, Maric."

"Backstory comes to bite me in the arse," Brian muttered with a grin.

"That's what backstory is for," Erin assured him cheerfully. "You returned to Denerim with the arl, setting up base at his estate, and began to explore the city, hoping to make a connection with some of the nobles and win them to your side. You were attacked by the Antivan Crows, lead by a former colleague of your friend Zevran, who wanted to fulfill his contract on the Grey Wardens and take him back with them. Zevran chose to place himself between Darrian and Alistair, and his former colleagues, and after a tough fight, you emerged victorious. You then decided to treat yourselves to a night at The Pearl, Denerim's foremost brothel, which I am never going to forget -"

The laughter at the table was a very clear reminder that allowing her players to have too much fun at her expense was going to turn into a story for all the years to come. Jenny, as Zevran, had insisted on sampling the delights of all the men and women at The Pearl once she'd discovered it was a fade to black situation, just to make Erin describe and play an increasingly odd selection of throwaway NPCs made up on the spot.

"Upon returning to Arl Eamon's estate, you found Erlina, Queen Anora's elven companion, beside herself with worry. Arl Howe, Loghain's right-hand man, had imprisoned the queen in his city estate. Against Eamon's wishes, you decided to rescue her. and with a series of truly stunning stealth rolls, and one very lucky save, you made your way into the Howe estate, where you freed Soris, Darrian's cousin, and discovered a few means by which you can sway some of the nobles to your cause. You were confronted by Howe himself, and managed to take down both him and his elite guard, freeing Queen Anora in the process. However, when you attempted to leave, you were stopped by Ser Cauthrien, Loghain's loyal commander, and a large number of city guards, who demanded that the Grey Wardens surrender and be put under arrest. Rather than risk the queen's presence in your midst being discovered, Darrian and Alistair voluntarily surrendered, allowing the rest of your party to escape back to Eamon's estate with the queen. And that is where we will pick up ..."

"Hey, you missed out me saving Sten's life with my amazing druid healing skills," Patrick objected mischievously.

"You're a dog, shut up," was Erin's response, sticking her tongue out at her brother for a moment before turning to Brian and Toby.

"Alistair and Darrian," she said, "you come to on filthy blankets in a dark, dingy prison. You’re in a cage - one of many that you can see lining the walls - and you can see other prisoners, some of whom have clearly been tortured, some lying very still. Your equipment, your armor, even your clothes have been taken off you as you lay unconscious. There’s a single guard patrolling the floor outside the cages. What do you do?"

"We're naked?" Brian asked in surprise.

"They've left your underpants on you, but everything else is gone," Erin clarified.

"Is there anything in our cell, or in the cells that I can reach through the bars, that I could use to pick the lock?" Toby inquired. He was always first to jump into the action if he possibly could.

"Roll an investigation check."

"While Darrian's grubbing around on the floor, Alistair's going to wrap the blanket around himself like a girl getting out of the shower," Brian interjected over the sound of rolling dice.

"Ha!" Ana grinned at him across the table. "I knew Alistair had a thing for Darrian!"

"No, he's just worried about offending his friend with the indecency of his ... manly nipples," Brian countered, blatantly not believing a word he was saying.

"5, so that's ... 10," Toby piped up.

Erin glanced at her sheet.

"You root around for a while, reaching through the bars to the cells on either side, but you don't come up with anything that could be used as a lock pick," she said. "As you finish your investigation, the guard rounds the corner to walk by your cell."

"I whip my hand back into the cell and turn to Alistair." Toby assumed his chosen accent for Darrian with an ease that made Brian mock glare at him. "What in the Void are you doin'?"

"I look embarrassed and shuffle a bit, tucking my blanket tighter around my manliness," Brian said, taking a moment to find Alistair's voice again before adding, "It's cold in here."

"What, worried y'goin' to poke my eye out with your nips?"

"Well, you do stand very close sometimes." Brian bit down on a laugh that would have destroyed his accent, and went on. "So what do we do?"

"How well armed and armored is the guard?" Toby asked Erin.

"Standard for a prison guard," she mused. "Splint mail, helmet, longsword and dagger."

"Showing any interest in us?"

"Apart from a glance in to make sure you're still there, he doesn't seem interested," she said. "Guard duty's guard duty, and you're all but naked and locked in a cage."

"Okay." Toby slipped back into Darrian as he turned to Brian. "You play sick, and when 'e comes in, I'll jump 'im."

"What with? A handful of ... what is that, poop? Ergh."

"Just do it."

Brian rolled his eyes, grinning, and turned to Erin.

"Alistair is very reluctantly going to fall down in a swoon and start groaning like there's a bear sitting on top of him," he declared cheerfully, already reaching for his dice.

"Darrian will yell for the guard to come and take a look," Toby added.

"All right." Erin considered this briefly. "Alistair, roll me a performance check."

"Performance? Ugh ..."

The dice rattled on the table. Brian took one look at the roll, and thumped his forehead onto the dice tray, holding up a single digit.

"Natural one!"

As the rest of the group burst out laughing, Erin giggled her way through the guard's reaction.

"So, while Alistair's lying on the ground making ridiculous noises, the guard comes to the cell door and looks in, and he just, he's not impressed," she said, lowering her timbre for the guard. "Very nice. D'you do duck impressions too?"

Brian snorted. "Alistair stops groaning and just looks up at the guard, sort of pouting," he said. "You don't think I have a career on the stage then?"

"Mate, you're gonna be dead in the morning, so do what you like," was the guard's response.

"How close is he to the bars?" Toby asked.

"Couple of feet," Erin answered.

"Great. I launch myself at the cell door and try to grab him through the bars."

"This is why we need Darrian," Ana commented to Patrick. "He just does stuff."

"Oh, woof." Patrick nodded sagely in agreement, laughing as she backhanded his shoulder lightly. "What? I'm a dog!"

"You're an idiot," Ana informed him with a smile.

"Roll, um ..." Erin drummed her fingers for a moment. "You know what, just roll a straight dexterity check for me."

"Twenty." Toby shook his head as she opened her mouth. "Not natural."

"Okay, well, while the guard is laughing at Alistair, Darrian rushes the bars and manages to grab him by the collar of his mail," Erin said, ignoring the quiet conversation to her right. "What do you want to do with him?"

"I want to ... yank him hard and try and knock him out against the bars," Toby decided.

"Bear in mind, you're rolling against his AC, and your arm is thrust through a space about six inches wide," she reminded him. "Give me a strength check at disadvantage."

"Oh god, strength is really not my strong suit," Toby muttered, rolling his d20 twice. "Yeah, I'm a weakling. Doesn't happen."

"What did you get?" Patrick asked curiously.

"Rolled a five and a two, so that's three," Toby said with a grin.

"All right, so as you go to yank him toward the bars, the guard pulls backwards, and your grip just isn't enough to hold onto him as he backs up," Erin narrated. "Don't you try that again, y'hear? Bloody Wardens. He scowls at you, but he doesn't come close again, just turns and goes back on his round of the prison floor."

"Can't say you didn't try," Brian said encouragingly. "So what do we do now?"

"I'm out of ideas. S'pose we're waitin' to be rescued now." Toby smirked across the table at the other two. "Over to you, fearless warriors."

"Oh, yeah, this is going to go really well," Ana drawled, glancing at Patrick.

Anyone playing off him tended to have a bit of a rough go of it because of his obtuse character creation. He'd agreed to play the game when his little sister had begged, but his condition had been that he was allowed to create his own unique character. What he had come up with was a druid stuck permanently in dog form, which made for some interesting scenarios.

"All right, so - for the sake of brevity - let's say that you got Anora safely back to Arl Eamon's estate, and it was decided that Sten and ... the dog ... have the best chance of getting the Wardens out safely," Erin said. She knew this group too well to let them have a debate, even when there were only two of them involved in it.

"Sten, Barkspawn ... you approach Fort Drakon. It's a walled, heavily fortified keep, pretty much in the center of the city, named after the Orlesian emperor who founded the Andrastian Chantry. It's the oldest building in Denerim, built out of heavy gray granite, and it kind of squats on the landscape in a series of concentric circles built around a very tall tower in the center. There are two guards on the main gate, but they don't challenge you as you pass through. What do you do?"

Ana straightened her shoulders, channeling her inner Qunari as she dropped her timbre into her character's voice.

"They call this a fort? I thought it would be bigger."

"Woof."

A shared snort of laughter went up from the other side of the table as Ana glared at Patrick. Evidently he wasn't going to make this easy on her, role-play wise. He gave her an innocent smile in answer.

"Stands to reason that the cells would be in the tower," Anna mused, apparently deciding to ignore Patrick's insight for the time being. "So I guess we go to the tower?"

Erin nodded.

"Okay then," she said, checking her notes swiftly. "The tower is easily the tallest building in the city. It's also very wide. I mean, you could fit a couple of dragons in this thing with room to spare. There are more guards in evidence in the courtyard around it, but nobody challenges you as you make your way to the door of the tower itself. However, as you approach this enormous, thick-oak door, the two guards in front of it step forward and bar your way. They are better armored and armed than the guards on the main gate of the outer wall, but they seem kind of weary, kind of bored. Door duty isn't exactly rife with excitement. One of them holds up his hand, and says to you, Sten, What is your business in Fort Drakon?"

"Barkspawn stands up a little straighter, and just looks the guy right in the eye," Patrick piped up. "Staring him down like only a mabari can."

"Sten's doing pretty much the same," Ana agreed. "He looms over the guard. I'm a giant with a war dog. Either I am making a delivery, or I am beseiging your fort. Hope for the former."

Erin chuckled. She loved the way Sten had developed over the last months.

"Okay, make a persuasion check for me."

"Why not deception?" Brian asked out of curiosity.

"Didn't actually tell a lie," she explained, as the dice rolled.

"Oh geez, my persuasion is crap," Ana was muttering, looking up to add, "Nine."

"The guard looks you up and down, and then over to the dog staring at him, and exchanges a look with his fellow guard. They don't seem to be buying this. I wasn't told we were getting a mabari."

"Must I point out the obvious?" Ana tried again, putting a growl into her voice that made Patrick blink in surprise. "I am a large, impatient man with a war dog. Either let us in, or get someone who will."

"Barkspawn growls in agreement with him," Patrick offered hopefully. "Teeth bared, muscles tensed. Looking like he really wants to rip someone's throat out."

"Uh, all right." Laughing, Erin shook her head. "Roll for intimidation, with advantage, since Barkspawn's helping you."

Again, the dice rolled, and Patrick let out a whoop of triumph as Ana grinned.

"I rolled a four, and a natural twenty, so twenty-six," she declared cheerfully, setting Brian and Toby to praising the roll enthusiastically.

"Well, you are a large, impatient man, fully armed, with a war dog, and these guys just don't get paid enough to deal with things like this," Erin told them. "I can't believe that worked ... They look to each other, and back to you, and step away hurriedly. Uh, all right. You, uh ... go inside, and wait in the room on the right there. We'll, um ... The captain'll come and see you. One of them pushes the door open and hurries inside, and the other gestures for you to follow him, while keeping as far away from the two of you as he possibly can while at the same time trying not to look scared. The one who went ahead of you gestures toward an antechamber to the right side, and hurries off to find the captain, leaving you both alone. What do you do?"

There was a moment of pause.

"Sten really doesn't like being kept waiting," Ana mused, eyeing Patrick thoughtfully. "This is pointless. We should go in fighting."

"Barkspawn barks back in agreement," Patrick answered. "I mean, we're inside now. It can't be that difficult to find the cells, right?"

"Oh my god, are you really going to do that?" Toby asked, incredulous disbelief written all over his smiling face. "You're just going to fight your way through a whole fort?"

"Sure, why not?" Ana shrugged, and looked over at Erin. "I draw my sword, and wait by the door for the captain to come in. When he does, I'm gonna swing at him."

"While Sten goes for his body, I'll pounce his legs and try to knock him prone," Patrick said, picking up his dice.

"All right then."

Erin couldn't quite believe that the admittedly bad plan to talk their way in had suddenly become the worse plan of fighting their way in, but that was D&D. Groping for her character stats sheets, she fumbled for the captain.

"You're left waiting for no more than a few minutes, enough time to get into position by the door, and the captain's footsteps make it very obvious when he's coming. You go as soon as he steps in through the doorway?"

"Yep, the second I see him." Ana rolled her dice, checking her own sheet as Patrick did the same. "Twenty-eight to hit?"

"That hits, roll damage. Patrick?"

"Twenty-five."

"Nice rolls - that hits as well." Erin glanced down at her sheet, rolling her own dice quickly to see if her NPC might be able to avoid either of these. "Actually, Barkspawn, roll a dexterity check for me quick to see if you can get him off his feet."

"Sixteen damage," Ana said, leaning forward hopefully.

"So, as the captain of the guard steps in through the doorway, Sten swings his massive greataxe, and it sinks into the captain's shoulder, crunching through plate armor and pressing chain-mail and cloth into quite a significant wound. Blood spurts out as he yells in pain, the sound echoing down the hallway he came from. Patrick, what did you get?"

"I rolled a seventeen on the dex, and a ... three damage." Patrick threw Brian a dirty look across the table as the other man laughed. "What? I only have teeth and claws!"

"Well, he rolled a four on his saving throw," Erin assured him, "so as Sten rips the axe out of this gaping, bleeding wound in the captain's shoulder, Barkspawn charges toward him, gripping one of his ankles in his vicious teeth and pulling hard. The captain staggers, and falls down hard. He is now prone."

"Do I get an attack of opportunity?" Ana asked hopefully. "Since, you know, he's gone from standing in front of me to lying on the floor."

"Technically ... no," Erin began to say, but she knew better than to force a technical point. What was the point of the game if it wasn’t fun? "But in this instance, why not? Roll another attack, with advantage because he's prone."

"Excellent."

"You're so blood-thirsty," Patrick commented over the sound of the dice rolls. "I love it."

"I'm a large, impatient man with a greataxe," Ana answered cheerfully. "Twenty-six again, and fourteen damage."

"As the guard captain falls, Sten takes another swing with his greataxe, and this time the blade sinks into the man's leg, blood flowing freely from this new wound as he screams in pain again. He's hurting, but he's not dead, and you can hear the sounds of other guards rushing toward the sound of his screams."

"I cast Polymorph on him while he's down," Patrick announced, one finger in the air as he scanned his spell sheet.

"What's the save on that?" Erin picked up her dice to roll.

"Uh, that is ... wait for it, wait for it ..." He peered at his sheet, scanning desperately for the appropriate number. "I really need to organize this - oh! Wisdom, fifteen!"

Erin rolled for the saving throw, and snorted with laughter.

"Natural three," she laughed, shaking her head again. "What are you turning him into?"

"A flea," her brother said firmly.

"Seriously?" Ana looked at him in astonishment. "You know he's just gonna bite you to all hell."

"Yeah, but I'm a dog," he pointed out. "What's another flea?"

To the sound of the laughter rising around the table, Erin tried to get control of the narrative again.

"All right. As the sound of the approaching guards gets louder, Barkspawn channels his druidic magic, and suddenly the guard captain is no longer visible. A moment later, you feel a sharp bite on the inside of your ear."

"I scratch that ear." Patrick grinned.

"Fair enough, okay. But as you look up, you see four more guards heading toward you, swords drawn, ready to fight."

Erin looked at Ana and Patrick with a slightly evil grin.

"Roll for initiative."

#roll for initiative #dragon age fanfic #dnd au #i have no idea how to tag this #lechatrouge673 #dnd game #alistair theirin #darrian tabris #barkspawn #this was a fun but weird exercise for me #sten

16 notes · View notes