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racheloveyunho · 3 years

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Till Death do us part - 1

Y/N grew up in a wealthy family, she always was seen as a beautiful and smart kid and was most likely to take her father’s place as the CEO of one of the most important companies in South Korea. However, after the death of her mother, Y/N’s family slowly started to break apart. Her father was always working to forget his uncalled pain while his kids were left alone at home.

She was 17 years old when her life took a sudden turn when she met him in a dark alley. He was a bloody mess, bruises everywhere but behind blood and dirt, she could see his beautiful features and his addictive gaze. Maybe she should have walked away, maybe she shouldn’t have helped him, but the moment his gaze locked with hers, she was already his.

Choi San was his name.

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, fluff, stranger to lovers

Words: 2486

TW: Y/N is described as an OC. Please be aware that this story will contain a lot of triggering content such as smut, blood, death, murder, drug, kidnapping, etc. Do not read if you are under a legal age!

Chapter 1

I still wonder what would have happened if I didn’t meet him during this gloomy night? We were young and I was way too brave for my own good. Maybe it was my faith or maybe it was a sheer coincidence but now, I know that I will love him till death do us part.

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5 years ago.

"Hey Y/N, wake up sleepyhead! It’s time to go to school and I will surely not wait for the princess to wake up" my brother yelled loudly from the first floor, waking me up in the process.

I groaned and shifted uncomfortably in my bed; it was too much noise at such an early time of the day. My long-browned hair was messy from the last night, as always. I was the type of girl to move a lot during my sleep and my morning head was always a funny one, swollen, with small eyes and with some of my lightly curled hair stuck in my mouth. After five minutes of rethinking my life decisions, I found enough motivation to get out of my bed and walked down the stairs.

"Why the hell did I agree to help other students during holidays, huh?” I asked my brother as I lazily rubbed my tummy.

“Maybe because you are too dumb to say no to your teachers?” he answered, his mouth full of food.

“Do you mind keeping your mouth shut while you are eating? It’s disgusting.” I shook my head disapprovingly.

I headed toward the kitchen to get a cup of fresh milk. Jin, my brother, childishly opened his mouth wide to show me the content of it. I let out a long “Ew!” before smashing his arm playfully.

“No, but seriously Y/N. There’s no use to be brilliant at school if that means you have to help your classmates with their studies during holidays” Jin said after taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, but the teacher who asked me this favor told me that he will write a recommendation for me if I agreed to help him” I answered.

“You don’t even need a recommendation, we’re from a rich family” Jin mumbled to himself but it was loud enough for me to hear it.

He wasn’t totally wrong and I knew it. We were born with a silver spoon in our mouth. We were “cake eater” as the other kids used to call us when we were younger, we never knew what it felt like to run out of money and everyone at school was jealous of me because of that.

But they didn’t know. No one knew how hard it actually was for me and my brother.

My mother passed away 2 years ago, and since then, my father didn’t stay at home with us longer than a week straight. He was always working, working, and working again, his job had literally become his life. He was one of the richest men in Korea and still, he was always eager for more and worked every day and night for it.

He wasn’t a good father for me and Jin. He never made any compliments to us, all he was able to do was to pressure us to be as perfect as possible or at least perfect enough to not ashamed him and his reputation. Unlike my brother, I wanted to hear my father say that he was proud of me, just for once. That’s why I was trying hard to be the perfect daughter, with good grades, good manners, and good appearance but even if I tried my best, it wasn’t enough for him.

“Do you know why I’m working so hard, Jin?” I asked him, voice as soft as a whisper, almost not daring to tell the truth.

“Why?” Jin put a hand on the top of mine, a sign of comfort since he already knew my upcoming answer.

“I don’t want to follow his rules forever. I’m still a minor so I had to stick at them but when I’ll turn 20, I will leave this house and will never come back” I sadly stated, “I want to marry a man I’m in love with, I want to do a job I like and most of all, I don’t want our father to commend my life.”

Jin tightened his grip on my hand. He understood me, he understood me too well. We were indeed rich but we were far from being happy. Jin was 6 years older than me which means he was already an adult. He wanted to leave this house as much as me but couldn’t bring himself to do so and leave me behind.

Unlike me, Jin has never been a good student, he always has been considered a failure to our father, and even if he finally was able to run away from here, he stayed there for me. I was really lucky to have a brother like him and I was well aware of that.

I took my breakfast and came back to my room to take a quick shower and get ready for this day I knew would be exhausting.

My brother was already waiting in his car. Jin took me to school as often as he could. He was working on a supermarket he owned and even if he was pretty busy, he wanted to spend his mornings with his “sweet baby sister” as he liked to call me.

I am indeed lucky to have a brother like him.

8 pm, it was already late when I heard the bell ring for the last time today. I was the last one to leave the class as I helped my teacher with the preparation of some material for the next day. It didn’t bother me too much, I wasn’t in a hurry to get home since I knew my dad was finally coming back home from his work.

In all honesty, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t miss him at all, even after all this time. I wandered here and there even though the street was already pitch black.

“Oh! It’s been a while since I last went to the haunted alley!” I happily exclaimed to myself.

I knew every nook and cranny of Seoul, I grew up there after all. My favorite place was the haunted alley. As its name suggests and according to some beliefs, that path would be haunted.

It was an old story I heard with my friends when I was less than 10 years old. A grandma from our neighborhood scolded us and told us not to stay there because there was a woman who had been murdered in the walkway and that since then, one could hear her cry every night.

A simple way to scare naïve kids you may think, and you are more than right. However, this story is known by everyone, not just by kids. That’s the reason why I love this place, thanks to all of these rumors, no one uses this path except me. It was like my secret place.

I walked around the alley with heavy steps, thinking about my father and his upcoming lecture about how to be a good girl. My thoughts were suddenly stopped by the voice of two men who seemed to be fighting each other. I stayed still for a moment, trying to figure out where the noises were coming from.

“You piece of shit! And you claim yourself as the Boss” son?” One voice laughed.

I hid in the dark and saw what could have been mistaken with a scene from a horror movie. Between two old houses, a tall man was beating up a boy who seemed to be around my age.

I felt shivers down my spine but before I could even think straight, my body started to move with its own will.

“Hey! Let him go!” I shouted, my voice betraying me by showing how scared I really was.

I moved closer to the two men, I could now see them more clearly.

The young boy was sitting on the ground, badly bleeding, whereas the tall man was standing in front of him, blood on his hand and his nose broken.

They were watching me. The silence was heavy, the only thing I could hear was the beating of my racing heart and the shake of my knees that were begging me to run away from this place. The silence was soon replaced by an ominous laugh.

“Wow. What a beauty! Is she your girlfriend? Huh?” The tall man laughed and hit the youngest on his stomach before coming closer to me.

He came closer, until he was in front of me. I had a better view of his poor state. He wasn’t less bleeding than the other man, his blood was actually covering his whole face.

I don’t know what had taken into me at this exact moment, the adrenaline was rushing in my veins and even though my feet were stuck on the ground, unable to move, my hand reached the pepper spray I always carried in my bag. Before the man could react, I used my weapon against him.

When the chemical product had reached his eyes, he screamed and placed his hands on his face, trying desperately to soothe the pain. I took advantage of the situation and kicked him as hard as I could on his crotch before he fell loudly on the ground.

I quickly grabbed the boy by his arm and helped him stand up. He was badly injured but followed me without any complaint.

I was panting when I reached a lighted street. We stopped there, trying to catch our breath. I turned around to face the man I was still holding and my breath hitched in my throat, not from the run I previously had but because of how beautiful this man looked.

“Are you okay? What is your name?” I asked him but he simply stayed silent, staring at me with his piercing eyes.

I took a better look at his features, he was really handsome with a well-defined face. He wasn't older than me but he hadn't the body of a teenager either. His broad shoulders and his arms muscles could be seen without any effort from him. His dark hair was harmonizing with the dark of his eyes and his dimples were visible as the border of his lips turned upright in an inviting smirk.

How can someone like him be involved in such a fight?

“The sight is at your taste?” he giggled, his smile spreading wider.

I finally took notice of my staring when I heard him laugh. I must say it was the most beautiful laugh I ever heard, slightly high-pitched but almost bewitching.

“I wasn’t staring!” I shouted from embarrassment. Fortunately, the darkness of the night was covering the redness on my cheeks.

“Sure, you weren’t” He added, amused by my reaction “I’m San. Choi San. I didn’t need your help earlier but thank you, I’m glad you rescued me”

He came closer to me and gave me a sincere smile, showing even more his dimples.

My heart was going crazy in my chest. This boy seemed small earlier compared to the other man but he was way taller than me, maybe 7 inches taller.

“You’re welcome”

I was a bit intimidated by him but I dared not to look away. He had something special, an aura that seemed as dangerous as comforting. His gaze was intense and deep, it was like he was looking through me, memorizing every detail of my face.

He didn’t move and didn’t talk for at least 2 minutes and even if I was feeling uncomfortable, I did my best not to let him know.

“Where is your house?” he finally asked after what felt like an eternity.

He startled me with his sudden question, I didn’t expect him to talk this soon. Why did he want to know where I lived? He probably wanted to walk me home and I would have gladly let this handsome guy walk me home if I hadn’t met him in an odd situation.

‘But he is really handsome…’ I thought, sighing softly, making San arch an eyebrow.

“It’s okay, I live near here, no need to walk me home. You can go ahead…” I said “Go ahead to…the hospital, your house or…go murdering someone…whichever comes first” I added, lowering my voice at the end of my sentence.

His face changed into a surprised expression “I wasn’t going to walk you home, don’t worry”

I sighed in relief even if I felt a bit disappointed, maybe he wasn't that bad after all.

“I want to stalk you” he stared at me with his beautiful smile as if it was the most natural thing to say.

‘What the fuck?’

“Sure, stalking me haha, it was obvious, silly me!” I gently hit my head and laughed awkwardly, taking a step back from him.

He laughed sweetly and took my chin between his thumb and his index to lift my face up. His mouth came closer to my ear and he whispered a small “Just joking” before turning his heels back and leaving me, alone, in the dark street.

I was finally back home. Fortunately for me, my dad hadn’t noticed me since he was already sleeping on the couch.

I quickly went upstairs to my room and collapsed on my bed, my mind still processing what had happened earlier. It was scary to say the least but fascinating at the same time. I was still confused even after showering. This San had a deep effect on me, not only mentally but physically too.

“Choi San…” I muttered before closing my eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.

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This is my first story, it’s bad but I’ll try to improve myself!

This series will be uploaded slowly since I don't have a lot of time.

Thank you for reading!

#choi san #san ateez #san #mafia ateez #mafia au #ateez scenario #ateez au #kpop #kpop mafia #ateez angst #ateez fluff #strangers to lovers #ateez series

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 years

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firsts

Summary: Din knew it was the best for the kid to go with the Jedi. But on his way back to... he didn’t really know where, there was only one person he would allow to see how sad he really was.

Pairing: Din Djarin / OFC (can be read as Reader insert)

WC: 1.877

Warnings: Fluff, sad Din :( , Spoilers for last Episode of Season 2 of The Mandalorian

A/N: It’s been a month and I still can’t get over that last episode. So this is my idea of what happens on the way back. I did write a little bit for a second part of this but I don’t know if this is gonna become a full fic. This has been edited by me so prepare for too many commas (also first Din fic so 😰)

Masterlist

Taglist in Reblog

Sleep didn’t come easy to Din. It never did. He always delayed it until he couldn’t take it anymore. If his body didn’t require sleep, he wouldn’t sleep at all. He used to think sleep was a waste of time. Sitting on the floor of the Slave 1 he felt… to be honest with himself he didn’t know how he felt. He knew letting Grogu go with the Jedi, Skywalker, was for the best. His child would grow (at least mentally, he still wasn’t sure if he would physically get bigger) into one of its kind. Grogu Djarin. He smiled a little, hidden behind the visor of his helmet. For the first time in his life he felt tired. And not just physically. His heart ached and his head hurt and he didn’t know how he could move on from this. Even though it might have been only a short amount of time with the kid when he thinks about the life he lived until now, he didn’t even remember how it was before him. Like a past life that he chose to ignore.

“Din…” He tilted his helmet to the side, seeing her standing in the doorway of the cabin where she had left to go to sleep. He had told her he’d be with her soon after. Din didn’t know how much time had passed since she went to bed. He looked at her, the left side of her face with a hint of the imprint of the pillow she must have slept on, her hair resting in a wild bun on top of her head. He always wondered how she did it. He didn’t even know how long her hair was until he accidentally walked into her cabin almost a year ago. It was one of the many firsts they shared. Seeing her with her long dark blue hair down. It went down to her hips and he remembered how he got flustered as he noticed she had only been wearing her pajama pants, her back towards him. When she looked over her shoulder, her dark blue eyes looking at him surprised, it was the first time he seemed to really see her.

Even though it was dark on the ship he could see her tired eyes now looking at him with concern. When he didn’t move and just looked she sighed and carefully walked over to him, looking around to make sure they were alone. She bent down, resting one of her hands on his helmet and he swore he could feel the warmth of her body. She looked down before she slowly sat down next to him on the floor. Only now did he notice that she was only wearing her undergarments and a sweater he didn’t recognize. A sad reminder that he didn’t lose only the child, but their home and all his possessions. But at least she was still here. Din was pretty sure that if she hadn’t been there, tears streaming down both of their faces as they said goodbye to child they both loved, he would have just ceased to exist. It was her who kept him up.

He only imagined her seeing his face for the first time, should have been under different circumstances. He actually had planned it. Asking her to be his for forever. He loved her. So much. More than himself.

Her hand still on his helmet, her other hand searched for one of his hands. He breathed out shakily as he felt her hand in his. A gesture they had done probably a million times by now but now giving him the comfort he needed.

“Did you sleep at all since we left?” She asked softly, her head coming to rest on the hard beskar of his shoulder. Why he still was wearing it, wearing the helmet, now that everyone who was on this ship had seen his face was one of the questions he had been trying to answer for himself since he sat down on the floor and chose to let her sleep. He felt worthless. He felt sad. He felt…

“Din.” She squeezed his hand, waiting for an answer.

“No.” Was his answer, as he squeezed her hand back and he heard her sigh again. He could see the goosebumps on her bare legs as she sat next to him on the cold floor.

“You’re cold.” He whispered, only barely picked up by his modulator.

“Because I’m not in bed where you should be with me.” She whispered back. He brought his arm around her shoulders, wanting to feel her close by. As close as he could.

“I… I don’t know what to do.” He confessed.

“Then let me help you.” She said softly. “Just this one time let me help you Din.”

He breathed in deeply.

“I have no idea what’s gonna happen next. I have… We have no home. I….” He shook his head.

“I know what’s gonna happen next.” Her hand wandered from his helmet to the beskar on his chest, patting once before she got up. He looked up at her, as she reached a hand out for him.

“You are going to sleep. And once you wake we are gonna make a plan.” He opened his mouth to argue but she interrupted him.

“For me, Din?” She pleaded him with her eyes.

“Anything for you cyar'ika.” He said quietly. She smiled softly as he took her hand, helping him up and leading him into the small cabin. As the door closed behind them her hand went up to switch off the lights, but he stopped her. She looked up at him, her eyes questioning.

“You don’t… you don’t need to do that.” He said.

“Din…”

“Please.” He whispered. She smiled, her hand on his chest before she slowly began to take down the beskar from his body piece after piece. She remembered how badly she was shaking the first time she helped him take it off. He had been badly injured and refused any help, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Carefully she set it down on the chair next to the bed, knowing he would want to clean it after they slept like he always did. When the beskar was off she helped him out of his boots. His arms were around her, pulling her against his chest as she got up and she hugged him close. He smelled like cinnamon and just… Din. It was one of the first things she noticed about him after she joined him on his ship. His scent. It took her a whole year to name it. Home.

“Come on. You need sleep.” She mumbled against his chest, pressing her lips against his heart. She slowly pulled off his gloves, kissing each of his fingertips and Din smiled in his helmet. He reached for her, his hand on her cheek as she looked up at him.

“I’m so lucky to have you.” He said quietly and she smiled.

“You are.” She winked and he chuckled. His hand reached for his helmet and she breathed out shakily.

“Are you sure?” She whispered. “I know how much this means to you. I can wait. Until you’re ready. I didn’t even really look…”

“I’m sure. I have been for a long time. You… You’re my family. You and.. the kid.” He choked.

“You’re my family too, Din.”

Slowly he pushed his helmet off. The first thing she saw was his jaw with a nasty bruise on his left side. Instinctively she carefully reached for it. Din didn’t notice the sting as he finally got his helmet off, holding it in his right hand as finally, after imagining it for so long his eyes looked down at hers without the barrier of his helmet. She reached up, her hands framing the familiar lines of his face she had touched so many times before in the security of darkness, as she tried to not cry looking into his dark eyes for the first time. Yes she had seen his face before but she made herself forget his heartbroken look as they said goodbye to Grogu. She smiled, her thumb rubbing over his lips. He leaned into her touch, kissing her thumb, closing his eyes for a moment before he opened them again. Breathing out shakily he chuckled.

“What?” She smiled.

“I’m nervous.” He said.

“Why?”

“It feels just like the first time I took it off in front of you.”

“I wasn’t even allowed to see you there.” She remembered.

“Yeah. But you did kiss me.”

“That I did.”

It had been his first kiss. Because of the creed he never took his helmet off in front of another human being that wasn’t in his clan. The kid had been the first in a long time to have seen his face. He wasn’t a monk, he did have some fun in the past but never had he kissed anyone, or anyone him. Just her.

He leaned down, getting closer to her before he slowly kissed her. She gasped against his lips, bringing her hands into his neck, her fingers in his dark soft hair. It was like the first time all over again, feeling him close. His hands on her hips, his scent making her dizzy but now she was looking into his eyes, seeing his beautiful face. If minutes ago all she felt was sadness over the loss of their child, this moment was full of happiness. She loved him. He was the first man she ever spoke those three words to. And he would be the last. He parted from her lips, his forehead against hers as they both were out of breath.

“I love you.” She whispered and he smiled. His smile was even more beautiful than she imagined it would be.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” He whispered back, before he kissed her nose, making her grin. It was like there were only them left in the universe. No losses. No sorrows. Just them. Until Din yawned and she had to giggle.

“Okay. Sleep. Now.” Her tone left no room for arguments and Din nodded, before he turned away from her to take off his clothes. She went to switch the lights off, tip toeing to the small crib. He caught her hand, getting into the bed first, before he pulled her against his chest, the thin blanket on top of them.

“I miss him.” He whispered, nuzzling himself against her neck. She put her hand on top of hers on her stomach, squeezing it before she tried to get closer.

“I miss him too.” She whispered back. “But he will come back to us, Din. You’re his father.”

“And you’re his mother.” He kissed the nape of her neck and she smiled.

“What are we gonna do?” He whispered.

“We’re gonna sleep, my love.” She brought his hand up, kissing his palm before she slowly drifted off to sleep. He watched her, laying in his arms. Her face only illuminated by the light shining through the bottom of the door. He loved her. So much. The last thing he thought about before he finally drifted off to sleep was that he should tell it to her more often.

#fanfic #fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #Pedro pascal #wrting #my writing #Din Djarin x ofc #Din Djarin x reader #Din Djarin x you

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loveislattes · 4 years

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Patience Is Key (Darkiplier/Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

Commission prompt: Reader only knows that sex is pain, so Dark shows her otherwise...?

Caution! This story does contain mentions of past borderline-abusive relationship and there is one scene that slightly delves into the situation, but it never goes further than pushing and forced kissing.

This chapter is SFW other than some cursing. The next chapter will be the oh so lovely smutty bit. ^^ Chapter 2 will be out next week!

“Ah, damn it!”

The curse left my lips the second I finally registered that I had dropped the extremely large box of pots and pans on my toe, and not on the flat floor as intended. Jerking back, I fell into the rickety wooden chair behind me and pulled my injured foot up into my lap with a wince.

“Why am I such a fucking klutz?!” I wheezed through the pulses of pain.

It took a few minutes of babying my poor toe but eventually, I managed to soothe away the pain and get back onto my feet. Why was it that toe injuries always felt so much worse than other injuries? As I debated that question, as well as the existential existence of pain at all, I got moving about the sparse kitchen once more. The boxes weren’t going to empty themselves after all and I only had the two days until I started my new job to get it all done.

“Lord knows if I had to take one more extra day off, it’d be the end of the world,” I muttered under my breath.

Working retail had to be one of the worst career choices in the world. Sadly, it was all I could find for the time being and this new house mortgage, low as it was, wouldn’t pay itself; Not to mention that my savings were meager at best and wouldn’t last long if I had to rely on them, thanks to my problematic ex.

This house was a blessing in disguise and I definitely couldn’t afford to lose it. A beautiful victorian-style two-story home at only four hundred fifty a month, with no real damage other than cosmetic updates needed? Yeah. It was practically impossible. My first thought was that it had a sordid past, whether drug crime or murder related, but that didn’t seem to be the case thankfully. The owners had inherited it and we’re willing to sell it for a steal just to get rid of it so they didn’t have to pay taxes and insurance. Their loss, my gain, apparently.

I had gotten so lost in my thoughts about work and the house that I was done moving the last of the boxes before too long. Score one for daydreaming!

I set about organizing my cabinets next, emptying the boxes one by one until they were all barren and tossed to the back of the room.

“That’s a problem for future-me,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair with a huff, “I guess dinner is next on the list. Never a better time to find out what take out they have around here!”

I meandered into the living room and plopped down on the worn couch, pulling my laptop into my lap. While waiting for the screen to wake up, I grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table and turned it on as well, needing the background noise with how silent the old home was. I’d definitely have to keep an eye on that or else I’d find myself creeped out even without anything happening. A random cartoon filled the large screen and jaunty music spilled from the speakers as the characters conversed. Shrugging, I tossed the remote back down on the table and returned to my laptop.

After logging in, a quick google search led me to a page full of restaurants both familiar and new to me. Moving to a big city definitely had its perks!

“Now the question is which one,” I sighed.

It took a few minutes of debating but I finally settled on ordering from a highly rated Chinese restaurant across town. I was promised my food in about twenty-five minutes and a delivery tracker popped up on the screen right after.

“That’s nifty!”

Setting the laptop back onto the table with the dimmed screen facing my direction, I let myself be pulled into the ridiculous antics of the cartoon characters on TV until a commercial came on. My eyes instinctively drifted over to the laptop to check on the tracker. The red line was about halfway across, indicating they would be leaving the store soon. Nice! Unfortunately, I also caught my reflection on the screen and couldn’t help but take a moment to fix my hair out of reflex. As I adjusted my top to look less wrinkled, I suddenly noticed a black shape in the background, near what would be the corner of the room behind the couch. I froze, heart pounding in my throat as my eyes widened.

“No way,” I whispered.

Leaning in closer, I focused on the shadow. Too afraid to actually turn around and look, I hoped I could debunk it from this angle alone. I was just about convinced it was actually a part of the LCD going out in that one spot- when suddenly it moved!

“FUCK!”

An uncontrollable screech left my lips as I leaped up from the couch. Spinning to face the shadow, I reflexively snagged up the throw pillow on the couch and tossed it full force in that direction while trying to move away. Unfortunately, I forgot exactly where I was standing in the new layout and the fact that the table was behind me. I was reminded painfully of that fact as my calf muscle slammed hard into the solid wood and I went careening backward. I frantically tried to catch myself but only succeeded in slamming my elbow into the edge of the table and whacking my fingers against the floor in a way that made me see stars.

Tears pricked behind my eyelids as I hissed through the urge to cry. I was about to lie in a puddle of agonizing defeat until I remembered the whole reason I fell. With a curse, I rolled over to my hands and knees, panting as I looked toward the offending part of the room. There was nothing there. No shadow and no reason I should have ever seen one there; no coat rack, no bookshelf, nothing. Just a bare wall.

“What the hell was that?!” I groaned.

Now that there was no impending, visible, threat, I spent a good few minutes taking all my injuries into account. Sore calf, elbow, and fingers. Bruises were likely in each spot, unfortunately. Thankfully it didn’t get any worse than that. With my luck, I was surprised I didn’t crack my head open on the floor instead. It was with a heavy, defeated sigh, that I succumbed to the need to lay flat on the floor and catch my breath.

“I’m losing it. That has to be it. All the stress of the move and being alone just got to me,” I assured myself quietly.

I wasn’t sure how long I wallowed there in self-pity, but it couldn’t have been as long as it felt because I was soon roused by the sound of someone knocking at the door.

“Foooood!”

Collecting my fallen pride and battle wounds, I scrambled up off the floor and rushed to the front door, snagging my wallet from my purse on the way. The delivery driver was nice enough and we made small talk as we exchanged food and money. I thanked him after he mentioned their loyalty program then shut the door before hesitantly making my way back into the living room. As I scanned the rather empty space, I was relieved to find it just as it was before; no shadows in sight.

“I’m probably gonna have nightmares from that shit too,” I muttered, plopping onto the couch and popping open the box.

With a little shake of my head to clear my thoughts, I returned to the show and let the thoughts from the day slowly melt away with every mouth full of delicious food.

…

It took two months of living in the new house to finally feel more at home. Most everything was put away and decorations filled the walls, warming up the once empty and creepy place. I no longer felt like an uncomfortably unwelcome stranger. The thought of that shadow did, unfortunately, still linger in the back of my mind every night though. I’d be fine all day until it was nighttime and dark in the house. Once the sun was down, it was like my gorgeous home was a totally different place. I didn’t see that moving shadow anymore, but I swore I saw things out of the corner of my eye and it constantly felt like I wasn’t alone.

One particularly rough night left me searching the entire house for hidden cameras and trapped doors because I could have sworn I was being watched. Of course, I found nothing of the sort, but it didn’t lessen the fear by much. I even started making myself go to bed earlier than usual just to avoid being alone with my paranoid thoughts. Something had to give before I went crazy!

I was even to the point of considering making new friends; Something to break up the monotony and constant feeling of being alone. Maybe inviting another person into the house would make the eerie feeling go away? One could hope! I wasn’t in the habit of bringing home people, due to my ex, but it was getting to the point where it might be necessary. A person could only take so much alone time!

A rapid knocking on my door tore me out of my lonely thoughts and back to reality with a jolt.

“Who could that be?” I muttered under my breath.

I hadn’t ordered any food and I was pretty sure I hadn’t ordered anything off Amazon recently. Uncurling from my nest of blankets, I hastened to the front door when the visitor knocked again. Impatient buggers weren’t they?

“I’m coming!”

Without thinking to check the peephole first, I pulled the door open and instantly recognized the horrible mistake I had made. I tried slamming the door shut before he could enter but already I was too weak with fear; simply seeing his menacing face leaving me powerless. He was easily able to catch the wood and shove his way in as if I weren’t even there.

“Heeeey baby.”

I wasn’t even given a breath’s moment to respond. Instantly his hands were on my shoulders and I was slammed into the wall. Pain exploded through my skull and my knees weakened dangerously as I struggled through frustration and fear.

“You thought ya could just move away and I wouldn’t find ya, baby? Ya outta know better’n that.”

The familiar sensation of bile rose in my throat when his lips smacked against mine. It took all of my resolves to hold it down. It would only add insult to my injury because he wouldn't give a damn and I’d be left worse for wear.

“Aw, come on. Play nice with me, won’t cha? It’s been far too long since I’ve seen ya.”

All I could manage was a timid shake of my head.

Fuck, it was like this any time he was around! Just being in his presence made the littlest of movements hard, like my body just instinctively gave up to avoid more trouble even though my heart told me to fight. If I could fight back, he’d probably back off after a while but I just couldn’t. Flashes of the times he tried to force himself on me, drunk and belligerent, held me back from it. Giving in was just easier, safer, in the long run.

I felt the numbing sensation of acceptance slide through my muscles when his mouth pressed on mine again. Disgust and hatred bubbled in my gut; not only for him but also for myself. So weak, pathetic.

Out of nowhere, the deafening sound of doors slamming rang through the air, causing us both to jump apart. With a Yelp, I clapped my hands over my ears to block out the painful noise as I looked around in shock for the source. To my utter disbelief, I found the cause to my cabinet doors, opening and shutting at breakneck speed. It only lasted for about half a minute before suddenly they stopped, just as abruptly as they had started. My astonishment was cut short by a cry from across the room.

Having abandoned his pursuit, my ex now stood frozen near the door, ashen white and shaking. Upon closer inspection, I thought I could see a faint shadow around his throat but my line of vision was disrupted when he turned and rocketed out the door. Once the entryway was clear, the door shut calmly behind him.

It was deadly quiet in the aftermath of whatever the hell happened. The sounds of my heavy breath were the only noises in the air. Scared, but thankful, I hesitantly surveyed the kitchen and the living room for any sign of what had caused the disruption. There was nothing, of course. Not even a hint of the shadow I had spotted months ago.

Letting out a nervous sigh, I ran a hand through my hair and said, “Thank you… whoever you are."

I didn’t wait for a response before high tailing it to my room and diving under my fluffy comforter, torn between calling my mom or crying until I fell asleep. My body made the decision for me before I could contemplate it for long, shutting down and passing out quicker than anticipated.

When I woke, it was dark in the room. The radio clock beside my bed read an irritating one thirty am. Despite having slept for six hours, I felt like I hadn’t slept a wink; nightmares resounding in my head like sirens the entire time.

Rather than trying to force myself back to sleep, I slipped out of the bed, determined to get some hot tea or cocoa to help soothe my inner demons. Unfortunately, I spotted my reflection in my vanity mirror on the way by and I felt compelled to stop. My usually glowing skin looked pallor and lifeless and the bags under my eyes gave the same sentiment.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered, pulling at my bedhead locks in frustration, “I’m not gonna recover from this.”

My outside reflection was only a sliver of the mess that was inside my mind though. And I knew I would get over it in the long run but it always felt so impossible at the start. I just had to turn the sadness into anger. My thoughts were derailed by the sudden feeling of eyes on my back; That familiar itching sensation of being watched sending shivers down my spine. I didn’t see anything in the room around me but when I finally turned back to the mirror I spotted it; an eerily familiar shadow. It was only moments before there was a man suddenly standing behind me in the reflection.

Although my mouth moved, trying to scream or make any sort of sound, nothing would come out. Scads of questions bombarded my already frazzled sense of sanity as I tried to scream until eventually a worrying sense of calm washed over me in place of the stilted panic.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured me as if reading my mind.

The low timbre of his voice made the rational part of my brain melt but the way it reverberated around the room sent my hairs standing on end. My body instinctively went stiff and still as his arms reached around my sides. Cool fingers rested on my forearms and slowly rubbed the goosebumps away in a soothing manner while he stepped closer. I could hardly meet his eyes in the reflection without feeling as if I were staring a predator head-on.

“How did you get in here?” I finally managed to ask.

An absolutely devastatingly handsome smirk curled up his lips before he flashed large, sharp, pearly whites down at me.

Oooh fuck, those were some pointy fangs.

“I’ve been here the entire time, darling. You’re the one who barged in rather abruptly when you decided to move in.”

I began to question my sanity once more as his form slowly lost color and brightness in the mirror, becoming a barely distinguishable shadow behind me. Though his touch on my skin never diminished, to the eye he was nearly invisible. Just as gradually, he filtered back into view.

His reasoning was lost to me as I tried to figure out just what was going on until eventually, it clicked.

“You’re the mother fucking shadow that has been driving me insane, aren’t you?!” I shouted, jerking out of his reach and spinning to face him, “Just how in the hell did you do that? Why have you been scaring me? What-”

His hand came up swiftly and I froze immediately, only able to watch as he cupped my jaw. A whimper reflexively slipped out as his thumb pressed against my lips.

“To answer your questions in order: Yes, I am. Shifting is just one of my many abilities. I have not meant to scare you, well, not these last few weeks anyhow. I’ve become- let’s call it- fascinated. Most would have left by now and yet here you stand, heels dug in like a stubborn mule. You’re intriguing.”

The moment he released his hold, I found myself asking, “What are you?”

“What do you think I am?” he retorted, stepping back and slipping his hands into his pockets.

I simply shrugged. How should I know? Before now, I didn’t believe in anything supernatural, but now I was questioning that stance.

“A demon? A ghost?” I replied.

He hummed momentarily before cocking his head to the side, eyes narrowing as they burned into mine.

“Does that scare you?”

So many freaking questions! I scrubbed a hand over my face wearily before slapping my palms against my thighs and mentally admitting defeat.

“Unless you’re going to kill me, no. You were terrifying in that shadow form but now that I’ve seen you face to face, I’m not so scared. Don’t get me wrong, I have a healthy respect for you but it’s also comforting to see that you’re not some decayed-looking ghost who is going to warp my face by looking me in the eyes,” I hesitated as another realization hit me hard then carefully added, “Not to mention, I’m pretty sure you’re what saved my ass earlier… right?”

There was a flurry of emotions across his face as his brows knitted together before he seemed to relax some and amusement showed at last.

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

I shrugged in response before finally slipping past him to sit on the bed, the shakiness of my legs becoming too much to bear. I could put on a brave face but my body could give way any second. I had been through too much in the last twenty-four hours. Once seated and more comfortable, I met his gaze again.

“Am I right? Were you the one that scared him away?”

He hummed and tilted his head once in a positive indication before adding, “Luckily for him, he’s as cowardly and self-concerned as most of you humans. Had that not have worked, I would have been forced to take further measures.”

The way his echo deepened and his fangs flashed in an animalistic snarl sent more goosebumps up my arms and neck. Fucking hell. My emotions were having a hard time keeping up through it all; enamored by his good looks, terrified by his powerful aura, curious about his existence. He was, simply put, overwhelming.

If it wasn’t for his discoloration, echoing voice, and the fangs, he’d seem like any ordinary human. A very attractive human at that… I had to stop that train of thought right there! I’d be just like me and my horrible taste in men to get a crush on the ghost- demon- thing.

“So, um, you said you were here before me. Are you stuck here, like a ghost or something?” I managed to ask while rubbing my goosebumps away.

“No. This is merely a residence of convenience. Your closet holds a portal to my realm and it’s the simplest way in and out for me. I choose to stay here when I must remain in the human world for any amount of time. You’re the first person to live here in decades.”

I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest in bewilderment when he suddenly moved towards the bed at an inhuman speed. A reflexive flinch had me jerking away when he reached out for me but he was quicker, hand snagging my chin to keep my gaze solely on him.

“Your turn to answer a question for me,” he stated without giving any room for argument, “Who was that man from before, and what is his concern with you?”

Eyeing him warily, I chewed on my lip then answered honestly, “My ex. I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily concerned about me. More so he’s concerned about losing his control over me. He was borderline obsessive and abusive.”

“Do you foresee him being a problem in the future?”

That was a hell of a question. Would he be back? I didn’t even really consider that after how fast he’d run away before but it was always a possibility.

“I honestly don’t know. I guess I should invest in some ADT or something, huh?” I half-assed joked, forcing on a weak smile.

The flat line of his lips told me that he didn’t find my statement as funny as I did. However he did, at last, relinquish his hold on me.

“I will not stand for a brain dead ape damaging my property. If he comes back, he will be taken care of once and for all.”

Some little devious part of my mind dared to question if he was actually talking about the house, or if he was subtly making a claim over me. The domineering air around him made it seem like a slight possibility. I felt the heat flare over my cheeks before I could stop it and quickly wrapped my arms around my chest defensively before sinking back further onto the bed.

As if a private moment were suddenly disrupted, he cleared his throat loudly and stepped back while adjusting his suit jacket.

“I need to be going. It was nice to officially meet you. If it sits well with you, I will be more prominent around the house since I no longer need to avoid you.”

I nodded and awkwardly replied, “Yeah, er, that’s fine. I mean, it’s more your home than mine anyway, right?”

He made a noise of agreement then turned toward the closet, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. There was an indescribable expression on his face when he turned back; the whites of his eyes darker than before.

A smirk that could only be read as cruel crossed his lips and he said, “You may call me Dark. If he comes back when I’m not here, simply ask for me and I’ll be here.”

#darkiplier x reader #darkiplier fanfiction #two part post #angst #fluff #smut

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Errare Humanum Est - Prologue

You Said You’d Catch Me (…If I Fall)

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3930

Summary for series: In which Steve is forced to solve an unsolvable dilemma and inevitably fails, Natasha is nosy in her attempts to be a good friend and it backfires and Sam Wilson is too old for that $#*!.

Also, Castiel is picking up strays from Heaven, leaving them to Sam and Dean to deal with.

Needless to say, it’s a mess, but when it looks like the God himself might be meddling, Team Free Will doesn’t have a choice. It’s not like they would just let the poor woman with amnesia wander off anyway.

(It is more angsty than it sounds, especially in the beginning.)

Warnings: swearing, very brief smut, violence, some blood, major character death (YEP), mourning, angst

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Don’t you ever bother, my child, trying to win the race against time. Truth is, my beloved, it is such a sore loser that it will never let you win.

Steve Rogers woke up with his head pounding so hard he was sure he must have drunk a barrel of Thor’s Asgardian liquor. Not that he remembered doing it.

With his brain in a haze, his hand went to sluggishly rise to his temple as if it could sooth the pain.

He had never sobered up as fast as when he found out he couldn’t do it, something holding his wrist by his side. His eyes snapped open only to be assaulted with a painfully sharp light. A half second later, he revealed he was strapped to a table.

Steve had no freaking idea what had happened, how had he got here or where ‘here’ was, but his instinct yelled at him to break the leather straps. He did so, easily, thanking god for the serum.

What the hell was happening? What the hell had happened?

He gritted his teeth with the effort to get his head on straight. Think, Rogers, think.

To his relief, the pounding headache was fading away, but it offered him no clarity. He couldn’t… he couldn’t recall why he was here and how he had got here in the first place. He wasn’t injured, he thought. If he had been, the serum pulsing in his veins, carved into every cell of his body, had done its job already. Except for his brain cells, apparently.

The last thing he remembered was you. Your laughter echoed in his ears, much brighter than the street and traffic lights illuminating your way as he was walking you home – his haven of the past few days as Tony’s frustration caused by a glitch in his system that he couldn’t figure out was penetrating the Tower’s walls, making the air harder to breathe in when anywhere in the building.

The memory of the twinkle in your eyes, when your gaze met his, automatically brought the briefest smile on his lips if even for a second as he had allowed himself to get lost in the past.

But then the brutal punch had come. Something had stung the back of his neck, an instant dizziness causing him to stumble.

Your horrified cry of his name and the darkness that had followed was like a slap, bringing him back to present.

He jumped to his feet, his eyes quickly examining the room. There was no one in sight. His stomach was squeezed by a cold fist of fear and not for himself.

Your name fell from his lips, silent and wavering.

Someone had drugged him. And you had been there when it had happened. Which, not to point a finger at anyone, but the fact he hadn’t seen anyone coming was totally on you, because when he was with you, he let his guard down, he allowed himself to relax, to forget. To forget who he was to the majority of the world, not to his friends and you.

With you, he was a plain old Steve Rogers, but people were always threatening Captain America’s life.

Fuck.

He prayed to God you were okay. He seemed more or less alright and he couldn’t decide whether that was a good sign. It could mean they had taken out their issues on you instead. His jaw clenched at the idea, the icy shiver that ran his spine in stark contrast to the burst of hot anger in his chest.

If anyone as much as laid their finger on you, he was going to rip their arm off.

Steve tried to shake off the dark thoughts and went to examine the room, this time with his heart hammering, feeling the pulse in his throat. There were two doors on opposite sides of the 40 x 40 ft. room, one to his right, the other to his left. Right in front of him him, there was an enormous screen, stretching along the whole wall. In the corner, there was a little camera. The red dot blinked at him, announcing it was on.

A fraction of second later, the lights in the room dimmed just a bit and the screen lighted up to life, showing a face of an unfamiliar man. He looked like he could use eating a sandwich or two, almost fragile body, deep-set tired grey eyes with wrinkles around them, greyish stubble covering his bony cheeks, contrast to the bald of his head.

“Captain! Good morning!” he greeted him cheerily. Steve squinted, trying to find a clue of what was happening. He could only see the man; not where he was or what was this about. “Good to see you awake. Some of us were getting worried you wouldn’t wake up. Isn’t that right?”

The camera shifted then and Steve’s heart positively stopped.

He lunged forward with his fists clenched on instinct only to realize it would help nothing.

It was you. You with a cloth tied over your mouth, strapped to a chair, a trickle of blood coming from your temple, a strap of messy hair sticking to it. Your cheeks were damp from tears, eyes bloodshot and full of horror. A bruise was forming around your right eye, your line of sight not meeting the lens of the camera aimed at you. Your dress and sweater were dirty and torn as if someone grabbed it too harshly and dragged you away; your nylons ripped, your knees bare and scraped bloody.

Steve didn’t even realize that the raging roar wasn’t only in his mind and actually escaped his mouth, his chest burning with hatred. You sobbed as if you could hear him and Steve understood he wasn’t the only one watching their soulmate.

“You’re a dead man,” Steve growled, causing your eyes falling shut.

While the image stayed focused on you, the man spoke up again.

“And yet I’m still walking…” the man hummed and to emphasize his words, he took several steps towards you – Steve’s feet twitched helplessly, wanting to stop him. But he couldn’t; he had no clue where he himself was, let alone you and that bastard.

He needed to think dammit. And he needed to think very fucking fast. His brain finally kicked in, immediately racing despite the trembles in his body – he couldn’t tell whether it was rage or fear. When the man circled your chair and aimed the camera lower, Steve was suddenly certain it was pure horror.

There were explosives. There were explosives stuck to your chair and a timer set to two minutes; luckily, frozen. Steve was sure as hell it wouldn’t stay that way as a suffocating lump grew in his throat. He couldn’t breathe in.

The camera moved again, showing the man as he glanced at what Steve assumed was a screen like the one he was seeing, the one you kept watching. Steve didn’t bother wasting his brain capacity on trying to control his expression. The man smiled a toothy grin and Steve wanted to puke, his mind frantically fighting with the heavy stone in his stomach, screaming at him that this was you, his soulmate, basically sitting at a bomb.

“If you’re pissed off now, just wait for what’s to come.”

Pissed off? Oh, Steve was so beyond pissed off. When he was about to get his hands on this man, he wasn’t just about to rip his arm off. He was going to do so with all of his limbs and finish with the carotid, using his bare teeth.

The camera must have been set on a stand, still showing you, as Steve could hear the man shuffle around. The next thing he knew, the screen in front of him split in two separate images; one of you and the other showing nine frames of traffic cameras, all of them aimed at trashcans. Steve didn’t understand.

Yet.

Until the frame of you split into two, the other image showing another timer, simply lying somewhere in an empty room. It read two minutes. Frozen. Just like the one on your back.

Something ugly crept Steve’s spine, a hunch he refused to acknowledge.

“You see, you have two options now, Captain,” the man explained and Steve’s teeth grinded with effort to deny what was set in front of him. It wasn’t what he was thinking, it couldn’t be. “There’s a door to your left – close to your heart, of course…”

Steve’s hands trembled as the man walked to you and almost gingerly loosened the cloth over your mouth, only to tear a strap of your dress after that, revealing your soulmark. It was illegible from the distance, but it still sent a fresh way of nausea up Steve’s throat. A whimper escaped you.

“Pick the left door and save your soulmate. Or take the road to your right and be the righteous man everyone claims you are. There are nine bombs planted over the streets of New York. Busy morning, as you noticed, I’m sure. God, Mondays suck…”

Steve’s head was spinning.

The man was lying. He must have been lying.

“Oh and just so you know, your country is watching. Hacking is too easy these days. Ready to start the race?”

“Wait!” Steve blurted out instantly, catching the man’s attention. It was unfair how much Steve’s voice was shaking, but it was the least of his problems. “What… what do you want?”

The man frowned. “For you to choose. I’m sure you noticed the earbud I gave you-“ No, Steve hadn’t. Having a comm in his ear was a second nature now. “Don’t you worry. You’ll hear us the whole time.”

“No! Wait! There’s… there’s gotta be something-“

The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “The timer’s about to start, Captain. You better choose or you’ll lose both, her and tens thousands of lives I imagine. Life is full of hard choices, isn’t it?” he mocked him and this time it was definitely rage that overtook Steve’s mind and body.

Until someone new spoke up, scratchy, weak and weary voice that shattered his heart turned his stomach around.

“Steve? It’s… it’s okay. Go,” you creaked, your eyes shining with fresh unshed tears. It wasn’t the haunted look in your gaze that unsettled something deep inside of him. No. It was the dark resignation that laced the breath-taking colour of your eyes. “Go save lives. I… I knew I’d have to share you with the world. Frankly, I didn’t imagine it would be like this, but— you go and be hero. My life is nothing compared to thousands and we both know that.”

The world swayed off its place, Steve’s knees buckling, actually forcing him to stumble backwards and lean onto the table he was strapped to.

The fuck did you just say? With unshakable conviction no less?

“The clock is ticking now, Captain,” the man informed him swiftly, smile in his voice. It was like a punch to Steve’s solar plexus.

With his own shield.

“No,” Steve choked out, his glare darting from one door to another.

How could he even make such choice?! What kind of a twisted monster did this? Who was this man?

“Your soulmate is telling the truth, Captain, isn’t she? You are the hero. You always make choices to save people no matter how much it hurts you… if it hurts at all, of course. Maybe, maybe you don’t care-“

“Hey, I know you do!” you rushed to interrupt, a spark of life lightening up your face, but Steve’s hands only darted to his hair, fingers interlacing in desperation. Your voice softened then. “It’s alright, Steve. I… I love you. And I’m so sorry it will hurt when I’m gone… but I believe in you. You can make it…”

“Yes, I can,” he growled, jolting to his right to disarm the bomb.

He could make it. He could handle the global threat and then rush to your rescue even if it meant he would burn to ashes shielding you from the flames.

His conviction only grew when he heard a familiar voice in his ear.

“Cap? Cap, can you hear me?”

It shook him more than the collision with the door. “Natasha?!”

“And company,” Stark supplied helpfully and Steve could cry in relief.

He wasn’t alone. He could do this.

“Can you disarm the bombs?” he panted, nearly faltering in his steps in relief.

Could Steve leave the nine explosives with one trigger alone and save you?

“Ah, look at him, Americans. The original Avenger, rushing to everyone’s rescue. Looks like he has some assistance, but that isn’t going to help. The choice was made. What is one life compared to thousands? Maybe she doesn’t even matter to him, does she?” the man interjected again and Steve gritted his teeth, pushing to his very limit to speed up.

The hall was narrow. No other possibilities – just running straight ahead. He felt like his mind was anything but straight, buzzing frantic images and dark scenarios. Your voice, ironically enough, was not helping.

“Steve, don’t listen to him. It’s okay. It’s okay…”

“Tony? Can you get rid of the bombs?” Steve repeated, gulping when the billionaire didn’t answer right away.

“No.”

Steve’s world crashed that moment and he wanted to scream.

Alone it was then. He had been alone before. He could do this.

“Romanoff can help you disarm it, we have… ugh, great visual of the corridors and of you thanks to the guy. I’m on my way, but it will be a really fucking close call.”

Steve mentally nodded, swallowing his fear. No time for fear now. Later. He could fold like a house of cards later. He wasn’t alone after all. He had freaking Black Widow and Iron Man at his disposal.

And finally, he reached another door. He burst into the room, his shoulder crying in protest when he broke down the door and stumbled in.

The room was plain, identical to the one he woke up – except there was the timer on a table.

01:02

01:01

“Natasha?” he howled as he sprinted to it. “Talk to me.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” She sounded confident. That was good.

That’s good, Steve’s mind echoed as he bent over the timer, swallowing thickly. Jesus Christ.

“Alright. I need you to rip off the blue wire at the same time you pressing the button on the left side of the timer. Got it?”

Steve only nodded, not taking a second to breathe in and think it through.

He just did it.

The red numbers of the timer flickered on 0:54 and died. Blood ran cold in Steve’s veins. He couldn’t hear any explosions, but that didn’t mean anything; God only knew how far from New York they were.

“Romanoff?” he hissed, already spinning on his heels and springing towards the corridor that had led him here.

“We’re clear. Run, Steve. Get that son of a bitch,” the redhead shot back, her voice sharp, but with a quiver of worry. Steve didn’t like that in the slightest; Natasha was rarely worried.

It was when the man who had assaulted you informed him he was still watching.

“Oh, silly, silly man,” he lamented, a patronizing note to his words. “Do you think you can make it in time? Don’t be stupid. You made your choice. Deal with the consequences.”

“Fuck. You,” Steve strained through his teeth, his feet barely touching the ground as he dashed through the hall, flashing the enormous monitor in his wake-up room a brief look as he headed to the second door.

It barely gave in as he ran into it, sickening crack echoing the empty space and vibrating his bones. Sharp pain jolted through his shoulder and arm; he was certain he just broke something.

It hurt. It would heal. He couldn’t fucking care less.

“You’re running out of time, Captain… you’re always out of time…” the man nearly sing-sang in mockery, making Steve push harder.

“Steve…” Tony’s heavy voice sounded emotionless through the comms and it felt like a slap to his face. “I won’t make it in time.”

Steve snarled, his lungs burning, his heartbeat pulsing his whole being, but he refused to throw himself off balance by even shaking his head in desperation. He ignored the icy fist that squeezed his insides.

He had to run.

Tony’s voice urged him then.

“Steve, there’s no way you can save her either. The lab’s gonna blow up in seconds. Get out of there.“

“Shut up!” the captain growled and as if it wasn’t enough, your captor let himself known too, counting down.

“Five.”

Shit!

Steve really would have to shield you from the explosion. That was gonna hurt a lot.

Well, though luck. He would burn before giving up on you.

He could see the door at the end of the hall now, his muscles crying with effort, his eyes burning with unshed tears or desperation.

He had to make in time to get you of the chair and cover you!

“Cap! Get the fuck out!” Natasha cried out in his ear, but Steve blatantly tuned it out.

He would have ripped the thing out of his ear, but that seemed like too much effort for now. He had more important goals.

“Four.”

He clenched his fists, bracing his body for the impact as he would throw himself against the door.

“Three.”

Pain erupted in Steve’s other shoulder as he collided with the metal, the door flying in the room with him.

“Two,” sounded on his right as he barely kept himself upright, quickly scanning the room. You were there, still on the chair, twenty feet from the door. The man stood by your side, hand on your shoulder, his head tilted to side with curious smile. “Hi there, Captain. One.”

Steve’s glimpsed the horror in your eyes, perfectly mirroring his own.

“Steve!” three voices yelled at the same time as he lunged after the man.

A fraction of second later, his body was thrown backwards with a shockwave, feeling as if on fire.

And then there was nothing.

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He nuzzled his nose to your hair, perfectly blissed out.

He learned to love Sunday mornings. Before he had met you, the day of the week had made no difference to him; he would wake up at 5:45 and get ready for his morning run and the only indication of something being different had been the amount of people he had been meeting on his route. Saturdays had used to be rather crowded, but not Sundays. On Sundays, people had idled. And you had convinced him to do the same.

It hadn’t required much effort from your side; especially after the first time Steve had got to make love to you. Since then, most Sunday mornings were reserved for lazy rolling in the sheets, exchanging sloppy and sensual kisses, wandering hands and lips and finding paradise in your bodies entangled.

He reached his peak shortly after you – because you always came first, an unintended pun, one Steve had made when he had been being absolutely sincere about your pleasure being the priority and you had laughed at it until your belly hurt – and now he wished for nothing but for cradling you in his arms for little longer.

His palm was sprawled on your stomach and he used it to bring you even closer, half-heartedly trying to convince a certain part of his body to stop reacting to your intimate position.

Too late, judging by your chuckle.

“Steve,” you whispered, rubbing your bottom against the hardness, apparently deciding to torture him sweetly. God, he would take every second of that torture and begged for more if it meant hearing you moan his name like that. Christ, this got him going.

You shifted in your position, catching his mouth with yours, fingers of your hand interlacing with his on your hip as you rocked into him once more.

Steve could die a happy man right there as he felt your heat, your tongue shamelessly twisting against his. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who was insatiable today. He moaned to your mouth when your hands sneaked between your bodies to guide him in and a shot of ecstasy made him arch his back at the contact.

Your smile was lost to the moan that left your lips.

“I love you,” you whimpered and Steve didn’t waste a second before returning the words, even though they paled under the actual force of what he was feeling with you. Love had never felt this intense before.

That was when the alarm blared, annoying and intrusive sound that had you both crying out in frustration.

Steve had forgotten about the brunch you had arranged with Ryan and his boyfriend.

“Turn it off,” he whined, locking his arm around you to keep you close.

“You know I can’t, Stevie,” you replied, not less annoyed than him. “Looks like we need to go back to reality.”

The intrusive beeping continued as Steve slowly blinked his eyes open. His eyelids felt unnaturally heavy. So did the rest of his body, which seemed to be hurting in too many places at once.

It took him few moments to assess the space he was in – lying in a bed, a beeping machine by his head, wires leading to his body, an i.v. in his arm. He knitted his brows together, reaching for the needle – it must have been why his body was so heavy and his mind so fuzzy.

Sharp pain erupted in his arm and torso, low hiss escaping his lips.

“Careful, Cap,” Tony’s voice brought Steve’s attention to the door where his friend was standing, slowly making his way to the bed. “You got yourself a lot of burns. If it wasn’t for the serum… you’d be a toast.”

“Burns?” Steve creaked, his throat scratchy.

When had he got-

Burns. The kidnapping. The choice he had been forced to make. The explosion.

Everything came rushing back to him in a horrifying fastforward.

“Did-“

“You saved lots of lives, yesterday,” the billionaire informed him, serious and excessively soothing.

It didn’t calm Steve’s suddenly rapidly beating heart. This wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. This wasn’t what he was asking; he knew that much. His thoughts were on you.

Did you survive?

“Did… did she-?“

Tony’s grim expression and solemn shake of his head told him everything he needed but didn’t want to know. Everything he refused to acknowledge, because it simply couldn’t be.

“No,” Steve rasped, his throat burning as much as his eyes and the rest of his body when he tried to sit up, his stomach twisting.

No. This couldn’t be.

It couldn’t, but somehow he already knew it was the truth. You would have been here by his bedside, watching over him. Or you would have been the first thing Tony mentioned, updating Steve on your condition.

Steve remembered with painful clarity the terror in your eyes before everything had gone black. The explosion. You had been in the centre of the room, the bomb basically strapped to your back.

“I’m sorry-”

“No,” Steve repeated stubbornly, setting his jaw tight so it wouldn’t tremble. “She’s… she has to-“

“I’m sorry, Steve. I… I really am.”

The crushing weight on Steve’s chest made it hard to breathe in, his throat closing up in effort not to scream. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill.

No, no, no… someone please wake him up from this nightmare. Please. You had to be alive. You had to, because otherwise… otherwise-

Otherwise he had failed you. Otherwise he was alone in this world again. Otherwise his heart was shattered and he would rather if it stopped. Otherwise his life was thrown back to the shadows he knew after coming out of the ice and further, kicked down to a pit of complete darkness. Otherwise he lost his soulmate.

“Please, leave,” Steve strained through his teeth, not bothering to open his eyes.

You were gone. You were gone, your body burned to ashes in the explosion Steve hadn’t stopped in time. He felt like the bomb exploded right inside of his chest, ripping his heart to shreds, pulsing pain pumped though his veins.

He heard no protest, only a sigh from the other man and a click of a door.

Only then, the first sob shook his whole body and he let himself to break down.

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Part 1

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Well… that’s a really long prologue, I know. The chapters should be shorter from here.

Title – inspired by Halsey’s Without Me

Thank you for reading!

Please don’t hate me... it’s a Spn crossover, put two and two together ;)

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Tags: @cxptain @smilexcaptainx , @murdermornings @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater , @polarcrystall @eliza5616 @rayofdawnworld @victor-criss-bish @skychild29 @elysianecho @simmisblog @scentedsongrebel @orions-nebula, @sergeantrosabellaswan @songofcosplay, @ilovesupersoldiers @wxstedhexrt @silver-winter-wolf @nova3312 @guardian-tn @janieavalos, @vxidnik

Hello there! Like I said I would, I kept the taglist. If anyone wants in or out, DM me or send an ask :-*

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justsmilestuffhappens · 4 years

Text

Anonymous Prompt Queue 2.0

Listed in order of receiving them

*Thoughts / Details in a Reblog

Prompt: Eddie's parents are once again berating Eddie and pressuring him to yet again come back to Texas. Eddie's mom is particularly cutting with her words, and then Eddie's mom and Dad feel this frigid, menacing presence behind them. They turn to see Buck staring at them with the coldest eyes and looking angry in a way the NO ONE has ever seen him get. He towers over Ramon and Elena and when he speaks, it is a single word "Apologize." Color Eddie a bit scared and a lot turned on.

Prompt: Sweet but smutty. Eddie gets insanely jealous of Abby being anywhere near Buck, even though she has a fiancé. After the train wreck, Eddie shows up at Buck's place and basically stakes his claim, making passionate love to Buck and biting his neck hard and way above the collar for everyone to see. When Buck does go to have a goodbye talk with Abby, Buck doesn't hide that he has someone too. They part with peace and smiles looking forward to the rest of their lives.

Prompt: After the lawsuit Buck is all alone and all his attempts to get the team to see his side fail miserably. One night while trying to sleep, there is someone standing at the foot of Buck's bed. The intruder is suddenly on Buck, trying to strangle him. Buck ends up playing dead and when the guy lets go, Buck unleashes his own rage and beats his attacker to a pulp. Battered and bleeding, Buck calls Eddie who is furious until he gets that something is very wrong. Everyone comes running fast.

Prompt: Elena and Ramon visit and maybe once again try to convince Eddie to come back to Texas, when Buck shows up and Eddie's parents can't help but be charmed. He is just so good with both Chris and Eddie. They are intrigued by him. They get more than they bargain for when Buck is tending to Chris and Chris asks Buck about his parents and Buck reveals that his parents actually starved him, even when he did nothing wrong. Cue Eddie's parents getting protective over Buck and apologizing to Eddie

Prompt: Maddie is heavily pregnant and she and Buck have lunch. They are heading back to Buck's car when this psychotic looking woman suddenly ambushes them demanding Maddie's baby because her own child died. The lady pulls out a taser and actually shoots it at Maddie, but Buck gets in the way. Maddie is stunned when Buck doesn't even flinch and proceeds to knock the psycho out cold. Help arrives, Buck is only concerned with Maddie and the baby, and chaos erupts when the firefam finds out.

Prompt: Post-lawsuit Eddie wins a fight but his rage isn't budging. With Chris at Abuela's Eddie shows up at Buck's place. Buck is actually in no mood and tries to close the door when Eddie forces his way in and starts unloading on him. Buck is hurt to his core but instead of breaking, Buck snaps and verbally decimates Eddie in turn. Their tempers boil over and they are on each other, punching, kicking, almost bone-breaking which becomes bruising kisses, harsh bites, and cathartic lovemaking.

Prompt: Eddie is mad at Buck over the lawsuit, they get trapped in a collapsed building with the air running out. Eddie stubbornly holds onto his anger but Buck comes up with the 'perfect' solution. He pulls a knife and prepares to use it on himself, like a stab to the heart or his jugular. Eddie freaks out and wrestles the knife away just as help finally arrives. Buck goes home expecting to be alone when Eddie barges in. Life affirming lovemaking happens, then Eddie takes Buck home to Chris

Prompt: Buck decides to try new things so as to to feel so lonely when the rest of the team bails on him. One such new experience is going to a Hollywood visual effects class where he volunteers to get made up to look severely injured or even dead. Pictures are taken and somehow a fee get accidentally sent to the team. By the time Buck gets home everyone is there frantic to see him and make sure he’s ok. Eddie is furious and of course he lashes out but Buck isn’t going to stand for it this time

Prompt: the murder hornet got me thinking of Buck shielding Chris at the park and getting stung badly. Carla calls 911 and Eddie and everyone rushes to Buck’s side. He’s thrashing in so much agony the doctors are having a hard time treating him. Buck literally begs Bobby or Maddie to KILL him. Horrified Eddie grabs him and kisses him hard, distracting Buck enough to get safely sedated. Cue the emotional turbulence and angst!

Dialogue prompt: Upset Buck: I am not exhausting. I am not your husband and even though I would have loved being that, now I honestly don't think I should even want to be, not after what you've said, how awful you made me feel, and the fact that not once did you think to apologize for hurting me like you that. What you said to me that day at the grocery store has tainted how I see myself and every action I take. I give you my all Edmundo, but what do I really get in return from you?

Dialogue Prompt: If Buckley was so wrong, how come he won his lawsuit? This department doesn't shell out millions of dollars to just anyone. You know, him refusing to take the money saved all of you from a world of hurt. Internal Affairs already have you all in its sights for some of the other crap you've all pulled. Had he taken the money, it would have been the keys to your little kingdom. We've been informed of how you and your team have been treating Buckley and it stops right this second.

Prompt: Buck's closure with Abby going different. Instead Abby and her fiancé show up at the station to thank Buck. It is like rubbing salt in a wound without them actually meaning to. Quietly furious and jealous Eddie materializes next to Buck. Buck is a bit taken aback when Eddie actually wraps his arm around him. Ironically Chris and Carla show up and both go running. Abby sees that Buck has a family of his own. Eddie of course gives Abby this silent, scathing look and the team does too.

Prompt: Buck and Eddie somehow fall into water and Buck is trapped behind debris. Eddie is pulling at the stuff trying reach Buck. Buck reaches through a space in the debris and pulled Eddie in for a kiss before he shoves Eddie away and more debris falls between them. Eddie swims up to the surface and starts screaming in despair. Buck stays calm and somehow finds a way out. He pops up further away from everyone and has to walk back to the initial scene. He shows up like Eddie does in 3.15.

As of the afternoon on May 19th

*I'll reblog this again with my first thoughts on them since it'll take time and this is already long

*side note a lot of these are gonna be altered either to lighten them up because I see them going down different or they've been done before and I'm adding my own spin

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jocelyn-wellson · 4 years

Photo

10 YEARS AGO, NOVEMBER

‘Last Match of Jo Knuckles.’

That was how Jocelyn’s departure from the ring was being advertised. It was supposed to be a battle royale, where all five fighters were to take on each other, but she knew better. It would be 1 versus 4; her versus the world. The ring was outdoors, more of a mud pit really. There was no referee, and everyone — spectators to bookies to the fighters and their trainers — everyone knew that someone was going to die. The advertising certainly alluded to it. Jocelyn had been so successful as a brawler that she had a price on her head. Thankfully, so many people were betting on her death that it drove the odds into the ground: bookies were banking on a 3/2 chance of her defeat.

Conversely, there was a 1/50 chance she would win the match, walk out under her own power, and at least one of the other brawlers would have died. The mythic trifecta.

“You come to see Dmitri,” said the exiled Alterac crimelord. “You are in this match, Joey. End of story.” He pulled a bowl of hot borscht toward him and shoveled it into his mouth.

“I donnae wan’ ou’ o’ th’ fight. I wanna work fer meself.”

Dmitri wiped his chin with a heavy linen napkin. “You say you win, walk away ... kill a man, you work for self? Is this what Dmitri is hearing?”

“Stake me,” she said. “Stake me wha’evah amoun’ ya think ya can fin’. I’ll make sure ya come ou’ a richer man.”

The crimelord crossed his arms. “What if Joey Knuckles loses?”

Jocelyn stared him down. “Ya kin feed me to yer dogs, fer all I care. I jus’ wanna be alone, no’ workin’ fer anyone bu’ me.”

“1 in 50 for trifecta, only,” he said between bites, “You win, you get freedom, we split purse say 75/25. You lose, Dmitri will make sure you see dogs eating you parts.” He took another massive bite.

“Deal,” she said, eyes unwavering. “Stake me a’ 1,000 gold.”

The large man set his spoon aside. He watched her face. “You will win, Joey,” he said. “Dmitri knows.”

“So do I,” said Jocelyn.

Five Hours Later

The mood at the mud pit was tense. One of Jocelyn’s long-time rivals, a Kul’Tiran known only as The Bear, was a late entrance. True to his namesake, he stalked around the ring, beating his chest every few seconds, bellowing. There were three other entrants, though none seemed notable, well, save the pale young guy. He was shirtless, thin, and covered in bruises and cuts of different ages. She watched all of her opponents carefully, looking for any sign of physical weakness or mental distress. She kept coming back to the skinny man; something just felt off about him.

The announcer welcomed the spectators and introduced the brawlers. The spectators cheered for their favourites; only Jocelyn received both cheers and boos. With a record of 17-1-2, she was feared amongst the brawling community.

“Fighters!” the announcer shouted. They turned to see him, calling the match from the gallows. “No shoes, socks, gloves, hats, belts, or anything of the sort. Each participant is allowed to bring one small blunt object into the ring. Blades are forbidden. Guns are forbidden. And,” he stressed, “no magic bullshit!”

The spectators roared.

Jocelyn stripped down to a pair of black tactical shorts and sports bra. The Bear went shirtless, as usual, thick hair covering his body. The skinny guy, he was clad in decaying canvas pants, while the other two wore their Admiralty uniforms.

“Lasses and lads, gentlemen and gentlewoman, children of all ages,” shouted the announcer, “before you are five of Boralus’s best. You see their condition. Finalize your bets. You have one minute.”

This was the part Jocelyn hated most, the minute leading up to the match. She hated being looked at, judged, catcalled. She hated when people would yell that she should just die. She rummaged around through her pile of clothing she had set outside the ring. She found them — her signature brass knuckles.

“Don’t look like yer a threat today,” snarled The Bear. He picked up a rock and formed his fist around it. “Yeah, it’s yer last match, lady.”

“Eat me,” she clapped back. It started to sprinkle. “One of ya ain’ goin’ ‘ome tonigh’.”

She watched as the men laughed. The Bear, in particular, had a hearty one at her expense. One of the two Admiralty servicemen started coughing; he sounded like he smoked a 12 cigarillos a day for at least a couple years. She watched her opponents as their various bludgeons were raised above their heads: a truncheon, a blackjack, a metal ingot, a rock. She shuddered internally, just as always. Her face betrayed nothing.

“The time for betting has passed!” shouted the announcer. He picked up a tiny brass hammer and walked toward a ship’s bell. “Brawlers ... in five, four, three, two ...”

Brass met iron.

The match began.

The four men rushed toward the center of the pit. Jocelyn stayed behind two seconds. She needed to ambush one of them. Wheezy, as she thought of him, started coughing almost immediately. Not yet, she thought, looking at the man’s physique — he looked quite strong. Meanwhile, The Bear attacked the other Admiralty member. He was of average build, wielding a blackjack. She thought him attractive until The Bear’s rock-solid fist met his face. The man crumpled to the ground. The crowd roared.

Wheezy tried to help his friend off the ground, only to be sapped from behind by the skinny man. The heavy ingot's inertia pulled the skinny man aside. Wheezy forgot about his comrade and dropped him in the mud. He turned his attention to the skinny man, who had hunched over.

“Big weapon fer a wee man,” he taunted. He swung at the skinny man with his truncheon; the skinny man turned quickly, leaving the ingot, throwing a fistful of mud into his attacker’s eyes. Wheezy shouted. The Bear and Jocelyn, who had been circling each other with the other combatants between them, both made the same pained expression.

“No mud!” she shouted at him.

“No mud!” The Bear agreed.

The three men fighting in the middle had all fallen into the dirt at this point, slopping about as so many hogs. The skinny man used his gambit to rip the truncheon from Wheezy’s hand. He brought it down hard on the back of the first-to-fall’s head; he was out cold. Wheezy threw a blind haymaker that threw the skinny man back into the mud. He picked up the ingot, straddling the skinny man. The crowd gasped and roared as he raised it above his head.

Jocelyn made her move. She ambushed him from behind, punching Wheezy at the base of his skull. A sharp crack resounded through the arena. The ingot fell to earth, narrowly missing the skinny man’s head. The skinny man pushed himself away on his back, rolling to his side, springing up when he got his footing. The Bear laughed. Thunder crackled. The skies opened.

Jocelyn said nothing. She wrapped her arms around Wheezy’s head. The man squirmed, but was too winded to do much of anything. She twisted, hard. Wheezy dropped to the ground, dead. A murmur spread through the crowd. She might actually have a shot at the trifecta, some of them must have thought. Jocelyn stepped back from the corpse. She adjusted her brass knuckles, pointing at the skinny man. Her shoulders were loose and she looked like she wanted to kill him.

The skinny man tried to flee the arena. The Bear clotheslined him.

“Fight or die, little man,” he growled.

“You’re all fuckin’ crazy!” he yelled.

“Deal with it,” said The Bear, piledriving the coward into the mud. The skinny man twitched and gasped. Jocelyn pointed at The Bear. Her knuckles, red from punching Wheezy, began to glint as his blood washed off. She taunted him.

“Yes, yes,” shouted The Bear. “Come!”

Jocelyn ran toward him at full speed. The Bear swung with his rock-fist. She ducked, sliding along the ground. Her knuckles made contact with something. The truncheon. She stood, facing The Bear straight on. Giving up or bluffing? he wondered. “Fuck you, lady.” He shoved her into the mud and raised his fist high. The crowd screamed for blood. He pulled her off the ground by her sports bra. This was the death stroke.

Now! she thought. She ripped the truncheon from the mud and smacked The Bear’s forearm as it came hurtling down. He was thrown off balance. His fist, augmented with the granite rock in its clutches, connected with her rib cage. Her left ribs broke. It was suddenly hard to breathe. She started panting. She dropped the truncheon.

“Doin' it right this time,” said The Bear. He kicked her in the side. She screamed. Silence blanketed the crowd. Nothing but the sound of labored breathing and rain splattering into the mud. He kicked her again. “Give up,” he said.

Jocelyn did not say a word.

The Bear raised the granite high above his head with both hands. “Last chance.”

Jocelyn knew she was most likely going to die. She let all the pain and rage of years flow through her. She kneed The Bear in the crotch. Hard. The mountain of a man yelped and fell to the side, granite rock landing some meters beyond his reach. Jocelyn rolled onto her right side. That’s when The Bear saw the flash. He had been so preoccupied with the truncheon that had forgotten about the knuckles. Jocelyn punched his injured forearm with as much force as she could muster. The Bear’s arm broke, a compound fracture jutting out of his thick, hairy skin. She grabbed him by the same arm, rolled him into his belly, and pushed her knee into his back while pulling on his broken arm.

“Fuckin’...” he screamed. She pushed her knee into his back and pulled on his broken arm even harder. He vomited. Thunder crashed. The crowd, still silent, watched intently.

“Ya can en’ et or I can,” she whispered in his ear.

“Bitch!” he yelled, thrashing.

“‘ave et yer way,” she said, bringing the brass knuckles to bear on the back of his head. The Bear stopped moving, though his breathing was steadier than hers. She coughed, spitting off to the side. Bright red blood splashed across the Admiralty's linens.

“Winner, Jo Knuckles,” shouted the announcer. He dinged the bell, ending the match. The crowd had no idea how to react. They started fighting amongst themselves. Jocelyn ignored them. She dragged herself across the arena to gather her belongings. Her breath was still rapid and uneven. She needed a doctor. She slid her feet into her boots, centered herself, and staggered out of the arena — on her own — before collapsing in front of an apothecary several blocks away.

Trifecta, she thought before blacking out.

#jocelyn wellson #backstory #story

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juicifeur · 4 years

Text

Turned

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 link

Synopsis: You had a life once, you weren’t entirely happy but it was a normal life nonetheless. But it all changed when a turf war began between two families that occupied the area around Lawrence, Kansas. An attack leaves you injured and thrown into a world you never thought existed. And into the arms of someone that you never thought you’d find.

(Eventual) Alpha!Sam x Reader

A/N: Hey remember that time I said I would get this done? Yeah me either

Word Count: 2.2k

—

Unconsciousness began to loosen its cold grip on your arms, and you opened your eyes. Sweat clung to your skin, your hair was plastered to the back of your neck, but you were alive. As your body woke, your core temperature began to rise once again, not any longer in the peaceful realm of sleep.

The sheets underneath you were soft but worn. And for a split second, you thought it had all been a vivid dream, some fever-induced thing.

You moved your fingers gently. Then you turned your head to the side, feeling the texture of the pillowcase on your cheek. Everything had a musty smell. This wasn’t your room.

You sat upright, and the sudden jolt caused your body to erupt in all sorts of aches and pains. You held your side, groaning softly.

Your eyes trailed slowly around you. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary other than the fact that you were somewhere you didn’t recognize.

Your heartbeat began to quicken in your chest. Bruises riddled your legs, there was a heavy bandage taped to your neck, and your leg felt like it was being hit with a hammer. Right, you remembered, it was broken. You broke it last night, running away from that thing.

Your lungs began to work overtime, bringing in panicked breaths of air as your brain went over anything you could remember.

Driving to Denver, you didn’t even make it that far. Someone ran on the road. You crashed your car. The woods, running, the attack, a severed head rolling into the blackness, someone had helped you. You were still alive.

You looked down over your body and you realized were in a large grey t-shirt. It wasn’t yours, but it clung to your body with a thin sheen of sweat, making the intoxicating smell of it impossible to escape. You had a fever. Your hair stuck to the moisture on the back of your neck. You looked around and saw a pile of clothes, your clothes, sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. They were stained, dark red splotches covering them. How the hell did you get into this shirt?

There was a glass of water on the nightstand beside you and you grabbed it, drinking like you hadn’t in days. The cold liquid slid down your throat, but it didn’t seem to help the feeling of overheating. There was a mirror bolted to the wall in the opposite corner to your clothes, under it, a sink. What you wouldn’t give to just wash your face right now... You held the cool glass in your hand and a waft of air drifted in under the closed door at the end of the bed.

It wasn’t the clothes. It smelled like food, it smelled like meat. Your stomach ached and gurgled softly. Oh god, you were starving.

When you tried to swing your legs over the side of the bed, from under the thin sheet that covered you, you discovered your ankle, the good one, was handcuffed to the foot of the bed. You fell onto the hard floor elbows first, one foot half on the bed. The glass shattered on the floor, a piece lodging itself in your palm as you landed. You hissed softly, as blood pooled around the shard. You sat there for a moment, foot in the air, wondering what to do next.

Someone, somewhere, must have heard the commotion, because you heard footsteps; they seemed far away. But they were getting closer.

A click came from the door, it had been locked. To keep you in? Then a head poked in. It was the man with short hair and green eyes. His name was Dean, you remembered that. He looked at you, sitting on the floor as the cuff dug into the skin of your ankle. He saw the glass and he understood what must have happened.

“Here, let me help you.” He stepped into the room reluctantly, keeping his eyes on you the whole time as he bent down and began to brush the glass into a little pile. He pulled the piece out of your hand too and you wiped the blood on the shirt you wore. He seemed nervous. But you just stared at him, a furrow in your brow, wondering what to say. Good morning? He spoke first.

“Sleep okay?” He glanced up at you as he scooped the pile into the trash bin carefully with his hands. All you could think to do was nod. He nodded back.

“I’m sorry about that,” He looked at the handcuffs attaching you to the wooden bed frame.

“It’s just for safety.” He said softly. He gave you a look that was probably meant to be comforting, but it was just irritating. He helped you back up onto the bed and he seemed to look at the gauze on your neck, and the other injuries you’d sustained.

“Please tell me what’s going on.” You pleaded as his hands left you. Your blood was buzzing in your ears, your body was on fire and you thought you could smell something on him. It was almost sweet, but it smelled different than sweat.

Fear.

He took a step back as you reached for him.

“I won’t tell anyone what happened to me, I promise. I just want to go home. Let me go home.” This time you weren’t asking, terror and speculation began to run around your mind. What was this? Some kind of trafficking? Organized crime? Mafia?

“I can’t let you leave, Y/N.” He said, heading for the door. You didn’t remember telling him your name.

He gave you an apologetic look before he closed the door behind him, it locked. And you were alone again.

“Someone help!” You screamed, frantically yanking at the cuff that bound you, but no one came. You began to panic. Your breath came out in short puffs and sweat ran down your neck, soaking into the already damp shirt you wore.

Your fingers dug into the mattress, you felt like a caged animal, looking for a way out. The window was barred, the door was locked.

With your body temperature climbing, it felt like you were stuck in that room for hours, shaking.

A fit of anger that you had never felt before bubbled up inside you as you waited. Air came out of your nose, hot and heavy and a snarl echoed deep in your throat as rage filled your chest. Your muscles tensed and then there was the sound of wood being torn apart, splintering and hitting the ground. The cuffs were still there, but you had pulled it through the bedpost. You stared.

It must have just been the adrenaline. It could easily still be in your system.

Slowly, you stood up, cold concrete chilling your toes and you padded over to the sink to splash cold water on your face. The tingling sensation in your blood had gotten worse. Like you’d fallen asleep and the circulation had been cut off to all four of your limbs. You braced both hands on the sides of the cold porcelain and your head dropped between your shoulders, your muscles aching.

When you looked up, what you saw in the mirror made your heart lurch.

Your eyes. They were different. They had a glowing quality to them. They looked yellow almost. Your gaze drifted to the bandage on your neck. You remembered being bitten, twice but by different people...creatures. Now that you saw yourself, you thought you remembered the glass from the car crash spraying across your face. But there weren’t any cuts. Before thinking, your fist rammed straight into the centre of the mirror, sending spider-web cracks cascading across the surface of the glass. You backed into the corner slowly and sank down into a ball, your hands weaving up into your hair as the throbbing got louder and louder.

This can’t be happening to me. I must have finally cracked. I’m probably just up in the psych ward suffering from hallucinations.

Logic didn’t seem to be on your side today though. You began to get hysterical. You cried, fearful of what was going on, where you were, what you were feeling. You were scared. Tears stained your cheeks and dripped onto the front of your shirt, mingling with the sweat.

You were losing your mind, you were sure of it.

—

Your jaw ached, but thinking of that just reminded you that your whole body ached and burned. It was like you had your braces put on all over again like your teeth and bones and cells were all shifting.

Footsteps echoed loudly outside of the room, and you weren’t sure how long or if you’d actually been asleep, but you sat up, and at least the fever had passed. You heard voices clearly.

“...newly turned...”

“...Can’t leave...”

“What should we tell the others?”

“No one’s seen Sam yet..”

“Probably for the best, John won’t be happy.”

You heard other things too. Heartbeats, a deer outside a mile away, water running through the pipes underneath the floorboards. The floor creaked as your two guests shifted outside the door and you heard the lock click, your fists held the sheets tight.

The same man from last night walked in with Dean. He smiled softly at you.

“Hi there, Y/N. My name is Cass.” He pulled a stool behind him and set it next to the bed, he sat. You stared. Dean closed the door behind him like he was supposed to be the bodyguard. He locked it.

Cass took a deep breath and then locked eyes with you.

“I’m sorry for that rude awakening a few days ago, we took the cuffs off you-”

“D-days? You just said days...” You began to feel the shockwave go over you again. Cass sighed and glanced back at Dean. He anticipated all the questions you must have. This would take a long time.

“The change is painful for everyone, not all who get bitten survive. I was actually quite sure that you wouldn’t.” His brow furrowed softly.

“I suppose you have questions.”

“No fucking shit.” You growled, feeling your anger bubbling up again. Dean scoffed. It smelled different in the room today. Natural human scents times twenty. You could smell both of them, together and apart. Dean’s scent was stronger than Cass’ was, although you didn’t know why. But either way, they both smelled strongly of man.

“I need some answers right now or I’m getting up and leaving.” You huffed at both of them, trying to keep your voice from shaking. You clearly meant it but that didn’t mean that they would listen.

“It’s like I told you when you woke up the first time, Y/N. You can’t leave. You gotta live here now, and we can explain everything but you have to calm down-”

“Tell me what’s going on!” You screamed and crossed the room in seconds before your brain even registered what you were even thinking of doing. You pinned Dean to the wall by his throat.

Claws began to dig into his flesh and you watched the fear grow in his eyes as he began to struggle.

“You have to- to listen to me, Y/N.” Dean gasped his calloused hand reaching up and grabbing your wrist.

“You’re not like you used to be.” Your arm shook with adrenaline as you tightened your grip and Cass tried to pry you away, his fingers digging into your skin.

The only word you could think of to describe it was powerful. You felt like you could take on the greatest MMA fighters in the country without making much of an effort. Unfortunately for the men trying to fight against you, that theory looked likely to be proven.

Suddenly the door burst open, flying off the frame, spraying the room with wood splinters, revealing a man that you didn’t recognize, but you felt Dean and Cass instantly freeze and stop fighting.

The new man glared at all three of you, and instinct told you to keep your head down and let go. The boys backed away from you as the man, larger and older than both of the others stepped towards you, flanked by two others you hadn’t met yet. But they looked oddly familiar.

His steps were heavy and intimidating on the hardwood floor covered in glass pieces and wood. His boots crunched, and he walked right up to Dean.

“Dad, listen-” Dean was cut off by a sudden, and hard, smack to the side of the face.

“I leave for three days. Three days you can’t be left alone and not fuck up. Do you know the effort I’ve had to go through in the past twelve hours to cover up your mess? To get rid of that body you left behind?”

Dean didn’t speak, he kept his eyes down, and at this point, you thought it was a good idea for you to do the same. You felt eyes pierce you, and give you a once over.

“I’m John Winchester. I’m in charge here. Anything you do, I hear about. Got it?” He glared down at you and you finally lifted your eyes, meeting his with a fiery stare. Dean and Cass were silent now, watching the dangerous exchange.

“You better learn to take orders quickly, or you won't last long in this pecking order, sweetheart.” John turned quickly out and down the hall. He gestured for you to follow.

You hadn’t taken orders since your first job after high school, and you weren’t about to start now.

—

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sketches-of-stories · 4 years

Text

Glass Shards

It had been exactly nine days since Azar the fire nymph had been stuffed roughly into the lamp that was now her home and prison. Exactly nine days since she had been taken from Flint, her human friend, and caregiver. Azar had started tallying the days on the glass bottom with broken bits if half-burnt matches. In the nine days, she had been imprisoned by the Orc Lord, Azar had seen many different creatures. Hobgoblins, orcs, elves, the occasional human, and other nymphs but none of them were willing to help her. The door of the tent, containing her lamp, was snapped open revealing Warog the Orc Lord.

"Light," he barked out the command as he had done for the past nine days. Azar rolled her eyes as she ignited her fire-proof hair. "Ahhh," he sighed. Even his sighs were rough, like sandpaper scratching yet forming words. "That's better." He lumbered over to the lamp and peered down at her with one yellowish eye. "But why is your light dimmer?" Azar's dark cheeks flared angrily. She thought of Flint who would never ask such stupid questions. Everyone knew a fire nymph's flame would begin to burn out when he or she wasn't properly cared for. And the nymph would begin to die.

Azar snorted disgustedly. There was no way that she would die because of some idiotic orc, who wouldn't care for her properly. "Watch your tone missy. You'll get into a mite of trouble with that attitude," he said shaking his head disapprovingly. "So, why are you burning low?" What could she say? Obviously she couldn't just say something about how she was slowly dying because of lack of care.

"I have a rare disease." Hmmm. How to work with this? If she said the wrong thing it would be the end of the road. "It causes my flame to burn low from time to time. That's all." Warog rolls his eyes. "Meh. I need light to calculate my sales." That was another constant over the nine days. Every night he came in to calculate his sales. Azar had begun to think this Orc Lord was a merchant type.

No matter what he was he sat at his table and added, subtracted, multiplied, and divided until he came up with a total and left the room until nightfall. Today's process seemed slower than usual, but after a while Azar saw Warog tidying up his desk area. It was strange, she thought to herself, that such an ugly, stupid-looking creature could actually be somewhat smart. She laughed softly.

"Off," he grunted. Nevermind, thought Azar irritably as she extinguished her light. The Orc Lord lumbered out of the room leaving her alone in her lamp. As soon as she was sure he was out earshot she started mumbling to herself, trying to formulate a plan I'd escape. After several long hours of planning, tears, and banging her head repeatedly against the walls of her prison, Azar hatched a plot.

Step 1: Wait until midnight. Warog and everyone else in his camp would be asleep except the Nightwatch. And she would be too small to be seen.

Step 2: Break her lamp prison. Quietly of course. Well, as quietly as possible, she reasoned.

Step 3: The easiest step by far. Climb down the table and sneak out of the camp. Fire nymphs lived in small rocky caves, so Azar was a natural climber.

Step 4: Hide for the night and rest until she could find Flint. Or died trying.

"Four easy steps, four easy steps, four easy steps." She chanted the same thing over and over until it was embedded in her mind. As the night wore, on the chant was the only thing that kept her awake.

Finally after what seemed like years Warog strode into the tent, changed (Azar averted her eyes. She did NOT want to see that ugly brute changing), and laid down on his cot. A few minutes later he began to snore. An hour later Azar began to shake her enclosure, trying to knock it over and break it.

"Almost there," Azar grunted through gritted teeth. The lamp fell to itS side and shattered with a crash. Desperately she looked at the sleeping figure praying that he hadn't woken up. He hadn't.

She picked herself off the wooden tabletop and dusted off the ash, clinging to her tunic. "Not a scratch!" Carefully she took a step forward. A sharp pain seared through her foot. "Bandit's bum," she cursed sitting down to examine her foot. A shard of glass no bigger than a pebble had embedded itself in her foot. She had no way of taking it out safely.

"Guess that will have to wait." Gingerly Azar limped over to her broken match calendar and pulled one of the larger pieces aside. She then used a shard of glass, to cut a thin strip of cloth from her toga and tied it around her injured foot. "Alright," she whispered to herself. "Just use the match to pull yourself up," she trailed off with a sharp intake of breath, as her foot seared. “Ok. Slower this time." Over the course of about five minutes Azar managed to use the broken piece of wood to haul herself upright into a standing position. She let out a long shaky breath before hobbling nearer to the table's edge. Soon she realised exactly how hard it would be to climb down the table leg with an injured foot. Azar steadied herself and once again began to inch toward the edge. Her leg seared with every step she took but, she reasoned, if I can escape it will have been worth it.

The edge of the table was like a cliff dropping off into the sea. The hard ground was far below. The thought of hitting the ground made Azar shiver, but she didn't let it stop her. Slowly she lowered herself over the edge and onto the table leg. It had no handholds, but had a single ledge, spiraling down the side. If Azar slipped and fell from this height she would surely die.

Softly, she limped down the ledge, praying not to fall. As she walked, the pain in her foot increased. Azar tasted blood, but still bit harder on her lip to keep from screaming in pain. After what felt like hours Azar reached the bottom. "Finally," she muttered, as she breathed a sigh of relief. The silent tent did not respond and thankfully, neither did it's occupant. Tiptoeing as well as she could with the glass shard still embedded in her foot, Azar tiptoed across the room. In a rush she ducked under the tent flap and stood triumphant in the fresh night air. A gust of cold wind whipped her hair around in her face, as she stood exposed for anyone to see her. Azar didn't care. She was free and on her way to find Flint. Life was finally going right!

The moon was still in the sky as she set out on the last step of her journey, hide and rest for the night. Avoiding the dead leaves scattered everywhere she half ran, half limped to the outskirts of the encampment. The wind whipped her hair and tunic all around her. Azar shivered as the wind began to grow cold. "Ouch, ouch, ouch." Every step caused more pain in her foot but still she continued. She was free. Nothing could stop her now! The edge of the encampment was near, she only needed to crawl under the makeshift gate that was the entrance and exit.

Azar was biting her lip harder now. She couldn't make a sound. Not when she was this close to escape. She could see the other side through the cracks in the gate. No glass lamps, no orcs, and no burning low. And Flint, her friend and caregiver was somewhere beyond this wall looking for her. Victory was in reach.

She looked back at the tent she had been imprisoned in for the past few days. It was smaller than it had looked like from the lamp, not that Azar cared. Anger bubbled up inside of her and for a brief second she considered burning it. She decided against it after realizing how much walking would be involved, but she spat in it's general direction.

Slowly she sunk to her hands and knees, preparing to crawl under. A leaf crunched under her hand. A rustling noise sounded from the other side. Her eyes went wide. Her heart thudded. Someone or something had heard her! Silently she waited on hands and knees, eyes wide and breath held. The sound subsided.

Azar let out her breath slowly. She could see through the cracks and none of Warog's guards were outside the gate. She slid under the crack in the gate. "Hello," she called out softly. "Is- is anyone there?" No answer, the trees were silent other than the faint sound of wind through leaves. "See Azar. Nothing is out there." Still she wasn't so sure. Yes she was free, but she felt as if she was trapped again. Trapped in the gaze of something hidden. She reached down and picked up a stick from the forest floor. If worse came to worst she would us her hair to ignite the stick and burn whatever was watching her. If she got the chance.

Azar ran as well as she could with her injury and pushed through the bush ahead of her. She couldn't help it. She screamed. Azar didn't care if Warog found her. She needed to get away. Inside the bush was what looked like a dead body. The dead body of someone she knew. The dead body of Flint. The body jerked up at the sound of her scream. It was Flint but he wasn't dead. A bit scratched and bruised but alive.

"Who's there," he asked sharply. He was not half asleep and mumbly like he normally was. Tonight he was alert and wary. "Where are you? What have you done with Azar? What have you done with my friend?" He drew his dagger with a faint scraping sound.

"Flint it's me! It's Azar!" She limped to his side. His eyes widened.

"But, how? I thought you would be imprisoned in something not roaming around." For the first time in nine days Azar smiled. Really smiled. Flint had come to save her. Her best friend was here with her. She didn't need to search. She wasn't going to die.

"I um... escaped. By myself." She tried to make her tone light and casual. Flint would know the truth though. He would know how she had cried the first day and a half because if how scared and alone she had felt. He would know the anger she had felt moments before she had found him. And he would know the despair she had felt when she had begun to burn low, trapped dying in a lamp as a slave.

"We need to go. They'll be looking for you in the morning. We need to get as far away as we can." Flint looked down at her and noticed her bandaged foot and ripped tunic. "As soon as we're safe I'll fix you up and get you a change of clothes ok."

"Ok."Azar nodded. The weight of her many late and sleepless nights seemed to be crashing down on her all at once. Flint could tell. He placed his hand on the ground and allowed her to step into his palm. Slowly so he wouldn't drop her he raised his hand to his pocket. Carefully he slid her inside. Azar curled up in the corner, safe at last. Flint rose and began to walk. As the pocket rocked Azar slowly drifted off to sleep, warm and safe in the coat pocket of her best friend.

"Good night Azar." Flint touched his pocket lightly to ensure she was safe and walked onward. No one was going to get her away from him. Flint would make sure of that.

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fangirlshrewt97 · 4 years

Text

The Witcher Fic - Give Me One More Chance (Part 5)

Author: Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: The Witcher (TV Series)

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier|Dandelion, Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer of Vengerburg, Geralt of Rivia & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Jaskier|Dandelion & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier|Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Yennefer of Vengerburg, Roach

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up (Swearing, Mild Gore)

Warnings: None Apply

Additional Tags: Post Episode S01E06: Rare Species, Emotionally Constipated Geralt of Rivia, Pining, Touch-Starved Geralt of Rivia, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt & Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Canon-Typical Levels of Violence, Monsters, I really put Geralt through the wringer here, but I am ok with that because poor Jaskier did not deserve it, I do acknowledge though that Geralt is multiple levels of screwed up and maybe thought he was helping them both when he was actually hurting them

Summary: After the dragon hunt, Geralt tries to cope with his actions. And misses Jaskier a lot. But refuses to deal with his feeling even when it almost kills him.

Alternate title: 5 things Geralt misses about Jaskier + 1 he didn’t need to

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389734

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

*****

Traveling together with Jaskier made the void Geralt had been feeling since the dragon hunt feel a little smaller but at the same time, just as deep as before. For the first few days, Jaskier barely acknowledged Geralt or Yennefer. He was also quieter than ever, though he maintained a constant stream of conversation with Ciri. He answered every question she threw at him, sometimes with outlandishly impossible answers that had her giggling. At night when they made camp, he took over cooking whatever ingredients Yennefer had bought in the previous town and whatever meat Geralt hunted.

He sang his songs, well, every song that did not have to do with Geralt in any way.

He did not touch Geralt. He did not speak to Geralt. He scarcely looked at Geralt.

Geralt wanted to shake the bard, beg him, plead for an accidental brush of their hands, a question out of habit, a peek from the corner of electric blue eyes.

But Jaskier gave him nothing. Demonstrating a mastery over his bodily reactions Geralt had not known the bard was capable of, Jaskier ignored him completely and intentionally.

Jaskier was even cordial with Yennefer, never outright cutting her with sharp words but not sparing a word that was not needed. Geralt would even venture to say they might be friends from the good-natured teasing he heard when he was out of their earshot.

Ciri saw all this, but surprisingly, or maybe totally unsurprisingly, after all how well did Geralt actually know her, the little princess took Jaskier’s side. Or perhaps not side, but she seemed to find his actions justifiable. A few times when Geralt was returning from a hunt, she heard Jaskier and Ciri rummaging about in camp. He heard her trying to convince Jaskier to give him a second chance. Jaskier stayed quiet.

///

After nearly three weeks of traveling together, of too quiet camps, non-music filled walks through possibly enemy woods, of distances so easy to close yet so insurmountable, Geralt was at his wits end. Yennefer had portaled herself and Ciri away, claiming that she had a friend who could help her with training for Cirilla and that the princess needed to remember what a bed felt like. Geralt had a suspicion based on the pointed glare both girls sent his way that they were actually conspiring to grant him some time alone with Jaskier.

Jaskier was mute as he watched the portal closed, getting back to setting up their camp in the same efficient way he had done when once upon a time it had always been just the two of them. Geralt knew he had to be the one to talk, since Jaskier was obviously not going to.

“Jaskier, we have some spices left, and I hear a deer nearby. What do you say we have a meal with some flavor for once?” Geralt asked, wincing at his own pathetic excuse for conversation.

Jaskier just hummed noncommittally. Geralt resisted the instinct to growl or run a rough hand through his hair. Was this what he had subjected Jaskier to all these years? But he did not have the talent the bard did to draw words out of others. Much less from someone who typically could not be stopped from talking. Needless to say, Geralt was frustrated and reaching the bottom of a very shallow pool of ideas.

Which is what he chose to blame for why he completely missed the sound of a monster approaching. Night had fallen, and both were sitting on opposite sides of the camp. He was brushing Roach while enjoying the absentminded strumming of Jaskier’s lute, the bard obviously composing inside his head. Geralt finished brushing and turned, only to feel his breath catch in his throat. Jaskier was glowing by the campfire, his pale yellow doublet casting golden shadows over his delicate features, the shadows making him look all the more unearthly. He was humming something under his breath, and Geralt had to strain his ears to catch it.

Had the bard always been so… lovely?

He was so enraptured in the blue of the bard’s wide open eyes that he entirely missed the alarm in those eyes. Roach’s neighing and shove with her snout was the only reason the endrega did not behead him.

“Geralt!” Jaskier screamed. Geralt did not even have time to enjoy the sound of his name passing through his bard’s lips in nearly a month before the endrega advanced, pinning him to the ground with on of it’s claws.

Geralt freed his arms enough to quickly sign Aard and throw the monster back against a tree. That dazed the creature long enough for Geralt to dive for his silver sword. Now armed, Geralt threw himself at the monster, swinging his sword and managing to cut of one of it’s claws. The endrega retaliated by smashing into him with its mace-like tail. Geralt’s unprotected skin tore easily under the spikes in the monster’s tail. A pained groan escaped him, but his training ensured he did not drop his sword.

The monster clawed at him again, executing a sharp cut into his right shoulder.

“Hey ugly! Try this on for size!” Jaskier shouted, voice dripping with fear yet underlined with the same steel as Geralt’s sword. When Geralt rolled his eyes in his direction, he saw Jaskier holding said sword, arms shaking with the weight but keeping the sword steady. Geralt vaguely recalled Jaskier saying he was nobility, he would have been taught the sword. Or at least fencing. His stance looked firm even if the sword didn't.

The creature snarled before dropping Geralt against the tree and advancing towards Jaskier. Just as Geralt feared that he was going to watch his bard get eviscerated, Jaskier threw something into the fire between him and the creature, making the fire roar up before transforming into a thick green cloud.

Geralt coughed as the smoke enveloped him thoroughly, grimacing as he pressed his abdominal wound closed. On the other side of the fire he could hear the creature screaming and screeching before steel sang through the cacophony and the noise cut off abruptly.

He was still coughing when a pain of hands grabbed him from below his shoulders. He yelled but the body behind him did not stop until they were clear of the camp and the smoke. Geralt was breathing hard and pale as the moon that shone through the trees when Jaskier deposited him against a tree.

Through the haze he saw a cut on the bard’s upper arm, but Jaskier brushed away his arm and cut open Geralt’s shirt with the small knife he always kept on him. He swore when he saw the extent of the bruising. Pressing firmly, he guessed at least two broken ribs, possibly three based on the volume of Geralt's groans.

“Damn it Geralt. Wait here. I will be right back, I need to find your potions.” Jaskier complained as he rose, only to yelp when Geralt yanked him back towards him, nearly sending the both toppling into the forest floor.

“Ow you bastard, I am only trying to help!”

“You… are…hurt…” Geralt rasped.

“Yes and you pulling me by the arm that was injured is not going to exactly make it better now is it?”

“Monster…”

“Is dead. Or at least it better be, the thing was in two pieces last I saw it. Plus we left poor Roach and my precious lute at the camp. Let me go check on them!” Jaskier said.

Geralt groaned but relented. Jaskier stumbled as he was suddenly released but stood up and tugged his doublet into place. “Thank you. I will be right back. Just… try not to get killed will you?”

Saying so, Jaskier disappeared between the tree lines. Geralt groaned again as he closed his eyes and lets his head thump back against the tree. Tonight had not gone at all as he had wanted.

True to his word though, Jaskier came back to where Geralt was, loud enough to wake the forest.

Cursing as he nearly tripped over a root he didn’t see, Jaskier dropped beside Geralt.

“Ok I have all your potions here. What do you want?” Jaskier asked, holding up Geralt’s potion bag. Geralt winced as he shifted against the tree, pretending to do so to get more comfortable and not because this way, Jaskier was leaning more heavily onto him.

“Dark green one. And clear potion in the square vial.” Geralt grit out.

Jaskier rooted around the bag before crowing victoriously as he held out his prize, quickly uncorking the two potions and helping Geralt swallow them. Geralt hissed as he felt the potions rushing through his veins, but settled as his healing was further boosted by the potions.

“Use my tunic.” Geralt slurred. Jaskier looked up confused from where had settled into Geralt’s side.

“What?”

“You are bleeding. Use my tunic. It is ripped.”

“Oh.” Jaskier said. He looks at his own injury, the wound a graze that has almost stopped bleeding. Deciding not to argue with the Witcher for once, he did as told and ripped up the shirt, wrapping the make-shift bandages around his upper arm. with the left over cloth, he wrapped them around Geralt so as to make sure the open wounds did not get infected.

They stayed like that for another moment until Geralt grunted and tried to shift.

“Come on, let’s get back to camp.”

“Are you sure? Can you walk?”

“Jaskier. It is cold and I don't have a shirt. We will both freeze overnight.” Geralt growled.

“Fine, fine off we go to the camp with the dead monster, why not?” Jaskier said as he placed an arm around Geralt’s waist and let the Witcher lean his weight on him as the two made their way back to camp.

Jaskier had Geralt sit back against the tree that Roach was still tied to while he went and reignited the fire that had almost been put out during the fight.

Geralt tried to push away Roach when the horse started to nibble on his hair, patting her nose to comfort her.

The endrega was lying several feet ahead of him, cleaved clumsily in half, his steel sword embedded haphazardly in it's abdomen. Jaskier was quiet as he set about cleaning the campsite, giving the monster’s corpse a wide berth.

“Should we be worried of more of those things coming after us?”

Geralt grunted. “Endregas are solitary creatures.”

“Oh small comfort I guess. Anything else going to attack us while we sleep?”

“No.”

“You sound confident.”

“If something comes for us, I will stop it.”

“Geralt I know I say…used to say you could defeat monsters in your sleep, but I didn’t actually mean it.”

“I am not going to sleep. You sleep.” Geralt bit back, trying to cover the hurt from Jaskier’s correction.

Geralt could make out a vein in Jaskier’s forehead, which was new, and he knew the timing was awful, but he found it equally amusing and adorable.

Jaskier took a deep breath and exhaled it before sitting in front of Geralt. Geralt felt oddly cornered with no escape. Which actually wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

“What was your plan?”

“Plan?”

“Plan for whatever you wanted to do without the girls around. And don’t insult my intelligence by saying us being left alone was not planned.” Jaskier said.

Geralt swallowed. The bard perpetually surprised him with his perceptiveness. He sighed.

“I told Yennefer to take Ciri it would be nice to have a couple nights for just us so we could have a chance to talk. So I could apologize.”

Jaskier groaned before mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘stupid Witchers with skulls thicker than the mountains they get thrown against’.

Jaskier sat up from his slump and sat closer to Geralt, making his heart beat tick up. So close, Geralt felt like he would burn from the intensity of the gaze that seemed to pierce right to his soul.

“Before you start apologizing, I want to say that you're an idiot.”

“Hmm.”

“And I kind of hate you right now.”

Geralt flinched internally but kept his face blank. “I understand.”

“No you don’t you self-loathing bastard. I regret the 22 years that I spent with you.”

Geralt bit the inside of his cheek. Was this how Jaskier had felt when Geralt had screamed at him on that mountain that accursed day? Like his heart was being ripped to shreds, and his world was becoming darker with each passing breath? How had the bard ever found it in him not to chase Geralt out of his life in that village? But Geralt heard the slight change in Jaskier’s heartbeat and held on to it like a life line.

“That's not tru-”

Jaskier cut him off. “Okay, that's a lie. But you've really hurt me, Geralt.”

Geralt had a feeling that the expression on Jaskier’s face was yet another that would haunt him in his nightmares, in addition to his face on the dragon mountain and that stupid doppler that stole Jaskier’s visage.

Geralt weighed his words carefully before speaking. He was walking on a tightrope and he had this sharp feeling in his gut that if he messed up this conversation, he would never get his bard back. “I... I know. I'm sorry. You... You didn't deserve any of it.”

“Keep going.”

“You've always been good to me... You're the reason people don't hate me anymore... You were by my side when nobody else was.” Geralt verbalized slowly.

“Glad you finally noticed that, but it doesn't really sound like an apology.”

Geralt clenched his fist. Jaskier was making this unnecessarily difficult. But this was a problem that could only be solved with words not steel or silver or grunts and looming appearances.

Closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see Jaskier’s face, Geralt inhaled deeply and laid his heart out for him.

“I'm sorry I didn't appreciate it. I was a fool. Now I get it. You were always kind, thoughtful, loyal. All you wanted in return was to go on adventures and find inspiration for your songs. I should have respected that. But all I did was treat you as a nuisance and a bother. When you might be the only true friend I have had who chose to be my friend out of his own free will and not because you had a duty to put up with me or were tied to my by something.” Geralt finished, gasping. His hands were so tightly clenched he could feel his nails making crescent indentations into the rough skin of his palm.

Jaskier stayed quiet in front of him. When he pried his eyes open, and hesitantly looked up, the bard was sitting in front of him with a stunned expression and a gaping mouth.

“Jaskier?”

No response.

Geralt tentatively released one hand and barely brushed it on Jaskier’s hand before the bard seemed to crash back into reality.

Geralt and Jaskier froze, hardly daring to breathe. The millimeter of skin Geralt had pressed against the bard felt as though it was on fire.

Jaskier finally gasped out a soft “Oh, you idiot.”

Geralt hardly got the words “What did I say-” before the bard was crashing into him. Geralt tensed up for a minute before feeling all his stress melt away in the bard’s arms. He wrapped both arms around Jaskier and pressed the bard in close, burying his nose into soft brown hair that smelled of sweat and faintly, lavender. In his current position, Jaskier was practically straddling Geralt, his body a line of heat that warmed Geralt to his core.

Jaskier sobbed into his ear “You idiot. Geralt... I... Yes, I wanted those things, but it wasn't what mattered. I... All I ever wanted was you.”

Geralt felt a lump in throat, his heart matching the wild thumping of Jaskier’s own. Today had started off as a nightmare where he had been sure he was going to loose the bard, and now Jaskier was telling him, what? That he…cared for Geralt?

Geralt whispered, scared that if he said the words any louder this moment would break, or worse he would find out it had all been an illusion “All these years... Don't take this the wrong way, but I thought that this was... I thought that once you satisfied yourself, got all the songs and stories you needed out of me, I mean-” Geralt grunted tightening his arms around Jaskier’s waist as he mulled on what to say. “I thought you will get bored with me eventually. I didn't think that you'd… that you might have feelings for me. Beyond friendship. Or companionship. And it is fine if that is all you feel for me Jaskier. I just want to travel with you again. I… I have missed you far too much.” He confessed, his secret out now, no longer weighing him or eating at him.

Jaskier stayed quiet once again, and Geralt feared he had once again said the wrong thing. He loosened his arms even as every muscle in his body was screaming at him to hold on and never let go. Jaskier smelled of confusion, and underlying it was his personal scent of honey and sunshine.

Geralt was so focused on his own thoughts he nearly missed Jaskier’s faint voice

“Feelings? For... How long?”

Geralt tried to suppress the hope blooming in his chest at Jaskier’s own hopeful words, no disgust or rejection in them.

Shrugging, Geralt said “Give or take five to six years.”

Jaskier jaw opened and closed a few times as he lip synched Geralt’s admission before unexpectedly punching him in the arm with the injury.

Geralt groaned. “What was that for?

“Shit sorry. But seriously? Five to six YEARS? You unbelievable idiot, Geralt why the hell would you not tell me?”

Geralt shrugged again, barely not wincing as the movement jostled his injured shoulder.

“You- oh, oh you just-” Jaskier sputtered, slapping his own forehead before pinching his nose. “Ok listen to me you thick-skulled buffoon. I am in love with you. 1000% gone on you. Pining after you so bad the whole continent could see it.”

Now it was Geralt’s turn to gape. He let out a strangled “What?”

Jaskier’s shoulders slumped. “Geralt, we are not made for monogamy. I know that. We have had far too many paramours to pretend otherwise. But do you know why Yennefer was always the one that got under my skin?” At Geralt’s silence, Jaskier continued “She was the one who had a chance. God Geralt, look at her. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life, she is terrifying and powerful, and knows what she wants. She is as immortal as you.” Jaskier’s voice was frail for his next declaration. “How could a mere bard stand up to all that?

Jaskier’s head dropped, and he wrung his hands until Geralt covered them with one of his, the other cupping Jaskier’s jaw and setting his every nerve on fire.

“How long?”

Jaskier whispered “From the moment I met you.” Geralt spied a few tears gathering in Jaskier’s eyes. “Gods. I can't believe it. So much wasted time…”

“Guess we're both idiot.” Geralt offered before pulling Jaskier in closer until they could feel the other’s breath on each other’s faces. “Can I kiss you?”

Jaskier’s breath hitched before he nodded. Unable to wait another second, Geralt closed the gap between them.

It was a simple kiss, just a press of rough lips against dry ones, but both men felt a joy foreign to them flood them and threaten to drown them. They broke to merely gulp a breath before diving into a second kiss that was far more passionate.

As both men fell back against the tree, uncaring of the rough bark, Roach snorted something that had they been paying attention could almost have been interpreted as “Fucking finally.”

#the witcher #the witcher fic #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #yennefer of vengerberg #geraskier #geraskier fic #i'm done with the fic #i'll be updating daily #let me know what you think!#part 5

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the-small-one-to-rule-them-all · 5 years

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Two Worlds Collide- Ch. 4

Chapter 4- For Science

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4 (you are here) chapter 5

summary: Logan shows Roman something about mermaids that shocks him. Roman starts to open up and they both learn new things because of it.

warnings: implied parental abuse, food mention, mild injury descriptions (bruising), physical affection, death mention, crying, self-deprecating thoughts, kidnapping mention, unholy amounts of fluff and softness despite it all, please let me know if I missed anything or if you want anything tagged

ship: Logince (now is when it starts getting a bit romantic my dudes)

a/n: This one is a long one friends! this chapter is over 2.5k words and it’s worth every one if I do say so myself. there should only be one chapter after this, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it!

Roman continues to visit Logan every day. He checks up on his healing progress but he also finds he really enjoys spending time with the merman. He loves hearing Logan talk about the stars, stories about the sea and the ships he has seen. Stories of creatures Roman never thought existed, where he can't quite tell if Logan is making things up or not.

He likes introducing Logan to new human foods. So far Logan has really loved bread with strawberry jelly and has enjoyed learning about the different ways of making food, the different plants that humans use to season their food with, and everything else food related honestly. But he especially likes learning about the stars. One day when Roman shows up, Logan notices that his jaw is an ugly purple color and twice it’s normal size.

Logan frowns, “Roman, what happened to your jaw? It’s all swollen and bruised.”

Roman raises a hand to touch the side of his face, wincing as he pulls away, “Nothing. I just had battle training today.”

Logan frowns, not quite believing him, “If you had battle training why do you not have more bruises on your arms and legs?”

Roman’s demeanor grows cold and Logan immediately regrets commenting on the bruise.

Roman stares off at the far edge of the cove, “I'm fine Logan.”

Logan doesn’t take his gaze off Roman’s face, “He hit you, didn't he?

“Drop. It.” Roman snaps, closing his eyes and pulling his knees to his chest.

Logan scoffs, “No! He hurt you! That is unacceptable!”

Roman throws his hands in the air, exasperated,“It’s not something I can deal with right now Logan! He is dying!” He wraps his arms tighter around his knees, and takes a deep breath. Calmly he adds, “Please, just drop it.”

Logan doesn’t know what to say, “Dying?”

Roman takes a shaky breath, “Yeah. He blames me. Hence the bruise.”

Logan is silent for a few moments, “What happened to him?”

“Please Logan, I don't want to talk about it.”

Logan sighs, “Fine, then at least let me make it better.”

“What do you mean ‘make it better’? How can you fix a bruised jaw?”

“Come here and let me see that jaw and I will tell you.”

Roman sighs, but complies, sitting next to Logan, who takes his head in his hands. Roman's heart speeds up as Logan inspects his jaw. Roman tries hard not to think about how pretty Logan’s hair looks up close or how sparkly his eyes are, or how he sticks out his tongue in thought-

“Ow! What are you doing?”

Logan takes his thumb, licks it, and proceeds to rub it across Romans jaw, like a mother trying to clean something off a child’s cheek.

“Helping.” Logan says simply, letting go of Roman’s head, as if that explained everything.

Roman frowns and then realises that the throbbing pain in his jaw is steadily decreasing and the swelling is going down. He brings his hand to his jaw as the swelling and bruises disappear, “Wow! That’s so cool! How did you do that?”

Logan shrugs, “It’s what my mother does for me, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

Roman nods, still rubbing his jaw. Slowly he gets a look on his face that Logan could only describe as mischievous, “Does it work the other way around?”

“What do you mean?”

Roman runs a hand through his hair, “Would my spit heal your bruises?”

Logan thinks about it for a moment, “You know... i'm not sure. That's a good question.”

“Should we test it out?”

Logan shrugs, “It couldn't hurt.”

“Okay well, are you actually bruised anywhere?”

“Have you seen my arm recently? Do you pay attention?”

Roman rolls his eyes, “Do you want to try it or not?”

“Of course,”Logan insists, “I need answers, for science.”

Roman smiles, “You’re the clowniest fish i’ve ever met. Now let me see your arm, Mr. Nemo.”

Logan rolls his eyes, doing his best not to smile at the pun or the nickname. And turns so Roman has access to his arm.

Roman blanks for a moment, “So do I just...?”

“Just do exactly what I did.” Logan says, shaking his head fondly.

Roman chuckles. He gently takes a hold of Logan’s arm. He licks his thumb and rubs it on the bruising. He waits for a moment and his eyes grow wide. He gasps, the bruising is disappearing!

“Oh wow!” Logan exclaims, “I can’t believe it worked! That is wonderful! However, we probably should try it again to make sure, the scientific method does require repetition for an experiment to be valid, you know.”

Roman shrugs, “Oh, uh, yeah if it’s for science, how could I refuse.”

Logan smiles, “My wrist is bruised, would you want to try again using that or would you prefer to try my spines?”

Roman gives him a cheeky smile, “How about both? If you need to repeat something for it to be valid wouldn’t more repetitions make the results even more valid?”

“I... umm, yes, that would be correct.” Logan says, hating how he can feel his cheeks blushing.

Roman’s smile never falters and he takes Logan’s wrist, gently enough for him to pull away. He takes a moment to lick his lips but then he does something unexpected. Keeping his eyes locked with Logan’s, he lifts Logan’s wrist to his face and gently kisses it.

Logan flushes even more, the color spreading to his ears. All he can manage to say is a small, “Oh.”

Roman releases his wrist and blushes a bit, “I hope I didn't overstep any boundaries there.”

“Oh, no. You... it... that was fine.” Logan mutters, gently running his thumb over his wrist where Roman had just kissed it, looking at it intently.

“Do you still want me to do the spines?” Roman asks after a moment.

Logan’s gaze snaps up to meet his, “Oh... umm, if... only if you want to.”

“I want to help you. Would you be okay if I helped you with this?”

Logan blinks rapidly, “Oh... well... I..” Logan collects himself a moment before answering, “Yes.”

Roman smiles, pleased to see Logan isn't upset with him. “Okay then. Why don't you lay down so I can get to them a bit easier?”

Logan complies. Roman gently lays a hand right above the first spine, in the middle of Logan’s back, “How would you like me to do this?”

“Just... however you think will work best I suppose.” Logan says.

Roman nods, “Okay, well then, let’s see how this goes.”

He lifts his hand from its place on Logan’s back and gently places it next to the first injured spine. He takes a deep breath, licks his lips and leans in. Softly he kisses the injured spine, noticing how smooth the scales are. He leans back. Slowly he sees the bruising and swelling fade.

Logan sighs in relief, “Wow... that... it feels so much better.”

Roman smiles, “I'm glad.”

He takes his time kissing each spine, examining them after they’ve healed, ensuring that no bruising remains.

When he is finished Logan sits up stretching and twisting his back.

“Thank you, Roman! I... it feels so much better now.”

Roman smiles warmly, “I'm glad it helped.”

“Not to be invasive but do you have any other bruises that need tending to? I would be more than happy to help you if you want.” Logan asks.

Roman looks at him for a long moment and strongly considers his options before speaking, “I... um, actually I do.”

“Would you let me heal them?”

Roman goes still his mind racing, “Yes just... just please don't ask.”

Roman watches as Logan opens his mouth, pauses, and closes it again, “Okay.”

Slowly he sighs and lifts his shirt over his head, letting Logan see the bruising on his side. Roman hears Logan’s breath hitch as he turns revealing the bruising on his back.

“I don't want to hurt you.” Logan says, not quite knowing where to start.

“You won’t.”

Logan slowly reaches out and places his hand on Roman’s shoulder to steady himself. Roman jumps as he does so.

“Sorry, I.. sorry.” Roman mutters.

Logan hums, “Nothing to be sorry about. I'm going to start at the shoulder near my hand and work from there, okay?”

Roman nods.

Roman hears Logan scoot a little closer and a moment later feels him gently kiss his bruised shoulder.

“That didn't hurt, did it?” Logan asks

“No.” Roman lies.

“Okay good. Let me know if it does, alright?”

Roman just hums. Gasping slightly as Logan kisses the next part of his back. Despite the pain, Roman can only think about how soft Logan’s lips are. He is pulled from those thoughts with a yelp as Logan kisses a particularly painful bruise.

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you okay?”

Roman blinks furiously hoping it will keep the tears in his eyes from falling, inwardly cursing himself when all it does is make them fall, “I... i'm fine.”

Logan’s hand leaves his shoulder as he moves around to face Roman. His confusion softens to a look of concern. Roman closes his eyes and waits to hear what Logan will say. Will he say he is weak? He is useless? He shouldn’t be this sensitive? He needs to get over it? He needs to deal with it like a man, not by tears but by throwing himself into his training? But none of that comes. Instead he feels Logan gently wipe away his tears and cup his cheek.

Logan sighs, “Did you know that in my kingdom crying is celebrated? It is considered very brave to cry, to be willing to show that vulnerability. From what we understand crying takes the emotion we are feeling on the inside, the big overwhelming and scary ones, and brings them outside so we don't have to deal with them alone. That is why crying is brave, it is how people ask for help. What I am trying to say is, thank you for being brave. I want to help and support you. What can I do?”

Roman stares at him for a moment. He covers the hand on his cheek with his own, leaning in, before everything he feels gets too big. He breaks down crying and sobbing. Everything hurts, but Logan actually cares and actually wants to help and thinks he is brave. He hasn’t felt brave in along time.

Logan slowly pulls Roman into a hug, being careful to avoid the bruised parts of his back.

They stay that way for a while as Roman cries. He feels himself let out so much pain he didn't even know he had been carrying with him. Everything in him just suddenly seems to collapse. All he knows is that Logan has him, that he is safe with him. He smells like the ocean and his skin is so soft and he never wants to let go.

When finally Roman feels his breathing even out he takes a deep breath and pulls away from the hug.

“Are you feeling a bit better now?”

Roman nods, and mutters a small, “Thank you,” wiping away the last of his tears.

After Roman gathers himself for a few moments Logan speaks again, “Would you like me to heal the rest of those bruises or would you rather do something else?”

He sighs, “I think i'd rather do something else for now.”

Logan nods, “Like what?”

“I... I don't know.”

Logan smiles, “I have an idea.”

“Oh?”

“Tell me a story.”

Roman frowns, “I don't know what story to tell.”

Logan shakes his head, “No problem, I think I know one. Please, tell me the story of the dragon that took your mother and brother. I am curious to know how humans see it.”

Roman frowns, “Are you sure you want to hear that one? It’s not very interesting. Why don't I tell you about the time I saved this prince with really long hair?”

Logan shakes his head, “I want to hear about your family. I am certain that other story is just as thrilling, and I would be happy to hear it, after you tell me about the dragon that took your mom and brother.”

Roman sighs, “I... fine, just for you. So imagine this, it is a cold still night, all is well, or so it seems. There is a stirring in a far off forrest. Something comes shooting out of the mountainside scraping it’s claws on treetops. This shimmering shadow with a dark underbelly glides swiftly towards the castle.” Roman swings his arm to demonstrate the speed and Logan smiles wide.

“A woman exists the castle unaware of the danger headed towards her, a queen, her name is Pat. She is headed to the garden, wanting to pick some fruit for she desperately wants it and refuses to wait for a servant to fetch it for her. Pat heads to her favorite plum tree and as she reaches to pluck a fruit from it's branches the monster arrives. It roars a loud and thunderous growl, as it flies low over the castle garden. The queen shrieks. She runs for the castle. Hoping for shelter. Then claws engulf her. Her screams can he heard all around as she is carried off by the dragon.

The king panics, knowing that if the dragon is given the chance it will eat his queen. He sends his eldest child, his son Virgil to ride out and save her. Virgil takes his best horse and rides as fast as he can towards the mountain where the beast hides. He never returns.” Roman finishes with wide eyes.

Logan claps, “That is a wonderful story! I'm just a little confused, what did the dragon look like?”

Roman smiles, “I'm glad you liked it. It was a gold dragon with a black underbelly. I wasn't super clear, sorry.”

Logan takes a moment to respond having been lost in thought, “No, no, you're fine.... I just think I know that dragon.”

Roman blinks, “Wait really?”

“Yeah, that.... That sounds like my friend Dee. he lives in a cave that has one opening to the ocean and one to the forest. Often he will tell me about his journys and the different places he has gone. They all sound so enchanting.”

Roman just stares at Logan, “Huh.”

Logan chuckles, “Yeah. Maybe one day I’ll take you to meet him.”

“I’d like that”

In the following days, Roman often finds himself asking Logan about his friend Dee, the dragon. Logan tells him all about Dee, how he often speaks in riddles, breathes black fire, and has deep golden scales that sparkle in the sunlight. He tells Roman about the stories of Dee’s adventures and Roman is entranced. He asks Logan if when he gets better and goes to visit Dee, if he would know where his mom and brother are now.

“I don't know Roman, I haven't asked him something like that before.” Logan admits

“Maybe, when you get better, would you?”

Logan smiles, “When I get better I will go ask, for you.”

Eventually, Roman lets Logan finish healing his bruised back. He revels in how it makes him feel warm and content knowing that Logan truly cares for him.

#hobbit writes #worlds collide fic #logan sanders #mermaid!logan #roman sanders #prince!roman #mild description of injury #implied parental abuse #food mention #death mention #crying #logince #it's really good I swear #i loved writing this chapter so much #i hope you guys like this #please reblog it means so much to me

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itsshortfurball20 · 5 years

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Percy Jackson, The Avenger

Percy has an encounter with Nick Fury. A year later, he’s being called on to help protect the world… again. He’s not alone in this Avengers Initiative. A genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist; a super soldier; a green scientist; a Norse god; and two secret agents. What could go wrong?

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

This chapter has 5,011 words

10 – I Get My Own Action Figure!

The next couple of weeks after the battle were hectic.

Once the dust had settled and the injured were being tended to and the dead counted, questions started popping up. Questions about what exactly had happened. Were those aliens that had attacked? Are they going to come back? Who had saved them? Were they superheroes? Was Thor really a Norse god or just another alien?

Not all of those questions had been answered. SHEILD never made an official statement, but slowly the questions started being answered. Yes, it had been aliens and no, the Chitauri weren’t coming back anytime soon. They had been led by a Norse god called Loki, whose brother, Thor, was in the attack against him, part of a team called the Avengers.

All around the world, people were talking about the Avengers. Some argued against the team, trying to force them to take responsibility for the attack, saying that they were to blame for the damage done to the city. Those people, however, were few and far between.

Most people regarded them as heroes. Citizens being interviewed by local news stations and papers praised the heroes, thanking them for saving their lives. Walking around the city, one could see spray-painted murals, people wearing hoodies and t-shirts with the heroes on them. There were even action figures modeled after the group.

Percy found that the action figures were the coolest part yet. He had already managed to buy a mini-figure of himself, complete with his shield and sword, that he had sitting on his nightstand. Annabeth thought that it was funny. She hadn’t said anything, but Percy knew that she found the whole situation amusing.

He also couldn’t help but marvel at his ‘superhero’ name—Riptide. Apparently, the little boy that he had saved had been interviewed by the New York Post and had told them the story about Percy saving him and his mother from the Chitauri. Well, his mother had told the story. The only thing the little boy could talk about was how cool Percy had looked, with his armor and big sword that he called Riptide.

The media took it up and went with it. Now he was Riptide, the superhero with the mutant ability to manipulate water.

In all honesty, Percy was glad that no one had gotten ahold of the knowledge of the Greek world. When information had started appearing in the news, Percy had IM’d Fury (actually managing to scare the director when he was alone in his office) and had asked to keep his identity, along with the existence of the Greek gods, under wraps.

So far, it seemed to be working nicely. Percy figured that he would head to Camp Half-Blood the next day and inform Chiron about all that had happened. But there was something else that the demigod had to do first.

He stood in a secluded area of Central Park. The whole team had shown up to accompany Thor (and Loki, whose hands were bound, and a muzzle placed on his face) back to Asgard. Thor went around, shaking hands with everyone as he said goodbye. When he reached Percy, the demigod gave Thor a big smile. “Hey man, it was nice meeting you.”

“Honor is mine, Percy,” Thor told him. “Maybe we can fight together again one day.”

The son of Poseidon laughed. “Let’s hope it’s under better circumstances.” Thor nodded and started to move away, but Percy grabbed his arm before he could fully walk away. “Hey, just remember, always family. No matter what.”

“Thank you, Percy.”

Percy watched on as Thor finished the rest of his rounds before heading back to Loki. Bruce and Tony stepped forward, Tony holding out a briefcase. It opened to reveal the Tesseract, dimly glowing blue. Bruce took the Tesseract and placed it in a glass tube before handing it to Thor. The Norse god held one end, giving the other to Loki, who reluctantly took it. He took one last look at the team before turning the handle.

The energy of the Tesseract swept over the two. Percy fixed Loki with one last glare before they were both gone.

Then slowly, one-by-one, the Avengers wandered off. Natasha and Clint riding off together; Steve on his old Harley; and Bruce and Tony getting into one of Tony’s sports cars. Percy headed to Paul’s blue Prius. Hopping into the driver's seat, he started the car and drove away.

Driving through the city, Percy could see the efforts of the citizens as they began to clean up the city. He knew that Tony was going to be in charge of the rebuilding process. The billionaire had already struck a deal with the Department of Damage Control, signing a contract that all post-battle cleanup would be under his control.

Percy passed an empty pedestal, its statue gone and somewhere in the streets of the city. People had noticed the statues running around during the battle (they were hard to miss), but no one seemed to remember the same incident happening almost five years ago—most likely due to the Mist.

The son of Poseidon was glad. It was one less thing for him to worry about. He had enough on his plate at the moment, mainly helping with the clean-up process.

Percy pulled up to the hotel he and Annabeth were staying in. During the battle, the apartment building where Sally and Paul lived had taken a large hit to the wall, deeming it unsafe to live in at the moment. Percy had told his family to stay in Montauk for the time being. Annabeth and he had decided to stay in a hotel for a couple days while Percy finished up his Avengers stuff before heading to Camp Half-Blood.

The demigod entered the hotel room. Annabeth sat on the bed; eyes glued to the TV where a reporter stood on screen. It appeared to be another interview, this time with an older group of men playing chess.

“Superheroes in New York? Give me a—” a man said before Annabeth paused the TV. Percy sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Annabeth smiled at him. “How’d it go?” She asked.

“Well, Thor and Loki are officially back in Asgard, and the Tesseract is with them.” He leaned back into the pillows, letting out a sigh as he went. “I think that it’ll be a while before we see Thor again. Imagine the family drama going on right now.”

“I can imagine it,” Annabeth teased, laying down beside Percy. “Just look at who our family is. It can’t be too different from ours.”

“Except their father doesn’t eat them, he adopts them. Or, one of them, I guess.”

They laid in silence for a while. Percy played with Annabeth’s hair, trying to braid her blonde hair while she read her book. After a while, Percy gave up and settled for just staring at Annabeth. She looked beautiful—as always—even with the small purple bruise on her chin that she had gained during the battle (something about a bank and a bomb).

“You ready to go back to camp?” Percy asked.

Annabeth set her book down and looked over at him. “Yeah. I wonder how the others will react to you becoming famous.”

“Technically, I’m not the famous one. Riptide is.” Percy gave Annabeth a small smirk before continuing on. “Secondly, it’s not that different from Piper. I mean, her dad’s Tristan McLean and we didn’t bat an eye when she told us.”

“That’s because you didn’t know who Tristan McLean was. And it is different from Piper—it's her dad that’s famous, and at least he isn’t known for having saved the world.”

Percy held up his hands in surrender. “Fine,” he agreed, before slowly lowering his arms again. “They’ll be fine with it, right? I mean, it’s not like I had much of a choice, and if I hadn’t been there, who knows what might’ve—”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Annabeth cut off Percy’s rambling. “I’m sure they’ll understand. Besides, I’m sure they won’t even think it’s that big of a deal. Most demigods don’t worry too much about the mortal world anyway.”

Percy smiled softly. “You’re right, as always. It’s not a big deal.” He said, the last part more for himself, before pushing himself up. “Now come on, let’s get packed.”

\~*~/

“This is a huge deal!” Leo shouted. “I mean, holy Hephaestus, wow.”

Percy shot a glance over at Annabeth. So much for not a big deal, he told himself. Shaking his head, he walked closer to Leo who was pacing around them on the hill, having run up to greet them when they had first arrived. “Leo, it’s really nothing—”

“You met Tony Stark. The Tony Stark, the legendary mechanic!”

Percy scratched the back of his head, not fully understanding Leo’s reason for excitement. “Yeah, l guess.”

“You guess?” Leo threw hands into the air in shock. “Percy, Tony Stark is a genius. His work with nanobots is revolutionary, not to mention the mechanics of the Iron Man suit. Half of the Hephaestus cabin has a poster of him hanging by their bed.”

“What about you?”

“Are you kidding? I already have his Iron Man T-Shirts, Iron Man Hoodie, Iron Man trading cards, Iron Man action figure, and two posters—one from before and after the whole alien-thingy.”

Percy nodded dimly. “Woah, I didn’t know he was such… wait, did you say trading cards?”

Annabeth gently grabbed his arm. “Percy, focus.”

“I am focusing. Focusing on the fact that I somehow missed the fact that I have trading cards with me on them.”

“Percy.”

“But Annabeth…”

“And Leo,” Leo chipped in. “Don’t forget I’m still here.”

The couple turned back towards Leo. “Sorry,” Annabeth apologized.

Leo dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine. I can’t imagine how weird it must be for you to be famous. That’s gotta feel weird.”

“Honestly, it doesn’t faze me,” Percy shrugged.

“Well if I was you, I’d be hanging out with Tony Stark and comparing notes,” Leo stated. “Maybe we could work on something together!”

Percy noticed a small twinge of smoke start rising from the top of Leo’s hair. He pointed it out to him, smiling as Leo frantically reached his hand up to pat out the small fire. When the fire was out, Percy considered an idea he knew he would probably come to regret, but...

“Hey Leo, if you want, I could introduce you to Tony.”

Leo froze, his eyes growing impossibly wide. “Really?” When Percy nodded, Leo jumped into the air, punching the air. “Oh, gods! This is—thank you, Percy.” The fire reappeared on Leo’s hair, much bigger than before. Leo ran back down the hill, screaming about getting to meet Iron Man.

Next to him, Annabeth laughed. “I think you just made his day.” She commented.

“At least one person’s happy about this situation,” Percy noted as they started making their way down Half-Blood hill. “Let’s hope that everyone else takes it just as well.”

At the bottom of the hill, campers had gathered around, no doubt drawn out by Leo’s shouting. At the front stood Chiron, his tail flicking back and forth in a way Percy had seen it do before whenever the centaur had been agitated. Percy swallowed.

Chiron stared at him with a poker face, and that only made Percy feel even more scared. “Welcome back, you two.” Their mentor greeted. “I think we need to have a talk.”

\~*~/

Chiron ushered them into the Big House, shooing away the curious campers. Once the last camper had wandered off, he led them to the living room. Percy and Annabeth took a seat on the couch while Chiron lowered himself into his wheelchair, the centaur’s lower half disappearing and a set of fake human legs popping out.

“So,” Chiron started once wheeled himself over to the couch. “Drinks?”

Percy and Annabeth shook their heads. “Listen, Chiron…”

The centaur held up his hand, bringing Percy’s word to a stop. “Percy, I’m not mad. Just tell me what happened.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Percy told the entire story, starting from Blackjack getting captured to him and Annabeth sitting on the couch. Chiron listened carefully the entire, only interrupting once or twice to ask a question. Annabeth was the same. She had already heard the first part, but she listened very carefully to his time with the Avengers. When Percy finished, the room was silent except for Seymour the Leopard’s snoring.

Finally, Chiron spoke up. “This may be more serious than I thought.”

“What do you mean?” Percy asked.

“If Loki willingly teamed up with… aliens,” Chiron said, almost as if he was unfamiliar with the word. “Then he must have struck a deal with someone. With the way you described the Chitauri, they don’t seem all that capable of thinking of a plan. So the real question is, who’s their leader?”

“And what could Loki offer them?” Annabeth input. “Think, if Loki struck a deal, it's obvious what he gets. An army.”

“He tried striking a deal with me for Olympus’ armies,” Percy remembered. “He came to me in a dream and said that if I gave him command, then he would make me powerful.”

“Is this the same dream with Rachael’s prophecy?” Chiron asked.

The son of Poseidon nodded. “It is. That’s also part of the reason why we’re here. Something isn’t adding up.”

Chiron’s eyebrow raised. “Like what?”

“The prophecy… it doesn’t feel finished yet. Like there’s more to come. I’m scared, too, because the last time I felt like a prophecy wasn’t finished yet, Luke went and sicced a pit scorpion after me. And then he went and joined the Titans and we all know what that led to—”

“Percy, deep breath.” Chiron broke through Percy’s panicked rambling. “This could be very serious, Percy. You should meet with Rachael as soon as possible. She arrived yesterday. I spoke with her briefly before she headed to her cave, saying how she needed to contact Ella.”

Percy and Annabeth stood up. “Thank you, Chiron,” Percy said, grabbing Annabeth’s hand as they headed for the door.

Chiron smiled. “No problem, my dear boy. Also, before the two of you go,” he called, making Percy and Annabeth turn back to face him. “I’m happy you’re back.”

\~*~/

Percy and Annabeth made their way to Rachael’s cave. Luckily, the campers had returned to their activities after Chiron had shooed them away, so no one stopped them to talk. A few did wave, but quickly turned back to their activities. Percy returned the gesture jovially. He didn’t realize how much he had missed Camp Half-Blood, and he could only smile as lava poured down the rock-climbing wall and the familiar sounds of swords clanging and kids yelling reached his ears. Camp Jupiter was nice, but Camp Half-Blood would always be his first home.

They climbed up the small hill, where Rachael’s cave resided at the top. The thick burgundy curtains that usually were draped closed in the cave’s entrance were drawn to the sides, revealing the mess of throw pillows and bean bags in the cave. Percy and Annabeth shared a look of concern before venturing in.

Rachael’s back was to them. She sat facing her mural wall, which she frequently painted on whenever she was plagued with images from the Oracle. Paint covered her arms and legs, which wasn’t too far from normal. But what wasn’t normal was the slight green glow that emanated from Rachael’s body.

Annabeth took a step closer. She reached her hand out, intending to shake Rachael’s shoulder. “Rachael?” She asked.

Rachael jumped and whirled around, holding out a paintbrush like a sword as the green glow faded away. She lowered it once she saw who it was that was standing behind her. “Hey, guys.” She greeted. “What brings you here?”

“We wanted to talk to you about the prophecy,” Percy told her.

“I thought that might happen. Take a seat,” she gestured to the haphazardly scattered beanbags. Percy picked a purple one while Annabeth took the bright yellow one next to it. Rachael remained standing, pacing around them. Eventually, she settled and sat on the concrete floor. “I talked with Ella,” she started. “She had never heard the prophecy, nor anything that might relate to it.”

“I’ve never actually heard the prophecy,” Annabeth spoke up. “Could one of you repeat it for me?”

Percy looked over at Rachael who nodded at him. He tried to recall the prophecy he had heard. “Um, it comes from… comes from—”

“Oh, let me,” Rachael told him. “It comes from day as dark as night—”

“At least I was on the right track,” Percy muttered. Annabeth shushed him and turned back to Rachael.

“After evil’s rule, the final fight,” Rachael continued. “They’re gone, they’re broke, they come together.” Percy saw Annabeth frown. She opened her mouth as if to speak but closed it after a second. “Charged to protect, earthly tether. Rolling stone, purple reign. All must end in blazing pain.” Rachael finished reciting the prophecy. Noticing Annabeth’s grim expression, Rachael joked, “Cheery, right?”

“Peachy,” Annabeth responded.

“Well,” Percy clapped his hands, drawing the attention of the two women. “Now that we all know the prophecy, some thoughts. Rachael, you said that Ella didn’t have anything?”

“I didn’t say that,” Rachael corrected. “I said she didn’t recognize it. But we did discuss some possible meanings.”

“Did any of those include a meaning for ‘final fight’?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Rachael asked, slightly taken back. “I would’ve thought blazing pain—”

“The blazing pain part is over and done with,” Percy dismissed with a wave of his hand. “The nuke,” he explained when he saw Rachael’s blank face.

Her face transformed from confused to scared—face paling at his words. “Nuke?”

“The government wanted to nuke us, but Tony ended up putting it through the portal. All’s fine now. Blazing pain avoided.”

Annabeth nodded slowly. “That…makes sense. But what I don’t get is the final fight part. This is your guys’ first fight together.”

“But it does say ‘must end in blazing pain’,” Rachael interjected. “That’s what worries me. The fates wouldn’t put in the word must unless it was unavoidable.”

“They must have been wrong, Rachael. That part is over with. Even Wise girl agrees.”

Rachael sighed tiredly. “I don’t know. Usually, after the events of the prophecy, the lines become clearer. But they aren’t now. Which may mean…” She trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence. But the implication hung in the air.

Percy cleared his throat, breaking the silent tension. “I, for one, think that there’s nothing left. We’ve got to be overthinking this. I mean, Loki’s back on Asgard, and the Chitauri aren’t coming back anytime soon.”

“But I don’t feel that it’s done,” Rachael said, her voice filled with worry. “There are still too many unsolved variables. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this sounds like a Great Prophecy.”

Both Annabeth and Percy sat up straighter at the mention of a Great Prophecy. They shared a glance, remembering what the last two had entailed. Percy looked back over at Rachael; brows furrowed together. “You really think? So soon after?”

“Well, one was given not even a day after the other had been completed,” Rachael recalled. “So yeah. Totally possible.”

That made some sense to Percy, given the last time, but he was sure it was over with already. He frowned as Annabeth grumbled. Looking over at her and her tense posture, he thought the situation over in his head. On one hand, if this really was a Great Prophecy, then they needed to be prepared. They would most likely need to give up college and jobs to prepare for whatever would come. But on the other hand…

The son of Poseidon knew that Annabeth would be disappointed on giving up her goal of becoming an architect to fight. Besides, the whole situation was a huge ‘if’. If the prophecy wasn’t over, if this was a Great Prophecy. Did he really want to jeopardize Annabeth’s happiness for a small, unlikely chance?

“It’s probably nothing to fret over,” Percy said. “I saw we call it a day. It’s about to get late anyway. Didn’t you want to get cleaned up before dinner?” He asked Annabeth, distracting her from the prophecy.

Rachael tried to protest. “I really think that—”

“No, he’s right,” Annabeth said, pushing herself up. “I say that it’s over and done with. That’s two against one.”

“I really think my vote should count twice as I’m the Oracle, but whatever,” Rachael muttered, irritation creeping into her voice. As she stood up, she added, “I’ll keep looking into it, just in case.”

Percy nodded as he and Annabeth started to make their way out of the cave. “Just in case.” The demigod hoped that she wouldn’t find anything. He hoped that he had made the right call.

\~*~/

Percy stood on the beach, starting out at the water. The waves crashed gently at his feet and the breeze blew his hair into his face. He didn’t bother to fix it. Instead, he stood there mulling over his earlier conversation with Annabeth and Rachael.

Even as he denied it, he couldn’t help but muse over the thought of another Great Prophecy. Wasn’t two in his lifetime enough? That by itself already sounded like a stretch. The idea of a third seemed laughable. Did the Fates really hate him that much to put him in the center of another Great Prophecy? What had he ever done to them?

Percy cleared his thoughts, stalling the oncoming headache. He knew that if he continued to stand there and analyze everything too deeply, his head would start pounding. In an attempt to clear his head, he took a couple of deep breaths and focused on his surroundings.

It felt nice for a July evening. In just three days, it would be the fourth, and he knew that the Hephaestus cabin would pull out all the stops, especially when Leo was the one in charge of the firework display. Just thinking about it made Percy excited. It felt as if it had been forever since he had celebrated July 4th at Camp.

He was so deep in his head; he didn’t notice the figure behind him until they spoke. “Nice weather for some fishing, wouldn’t you say?”

The demigod whirled around. Poseidon stood behind him in his usual garb, Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts, sandals, and his lucky Neptune fishing hat. In his hand, he held his trident, waves of power radiating from it. He moved his eyes from the sea to Percy, smiling at him. “Hi, son.”

Percy stared at his father as the god walked closer to the edge of the water, his trident transforming into a fishing rod. Poseidon cast out his line. The line soared impossibly far out (a little godly magic) before plunking into the water. Next to Percy, another fishing rod appeared. Percy grabbed it and cast it out, his line much closer to shore. They stood there for a while, soaking in the peace.

Eventually, Percy turned to Poseidon. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

“Can’t say hi to my son?” Poseidon asked as he checked his line for a tug. When Percy raised his eyebrow at the god, Poseidon shrugged. “Figured I’d see how you’ve been doing,” he admitted. “Especially after your little adventure with that group. The Avengers, right?”

Percy nodded. “That’s what we’re calling it. And… I’m fine.” He dropped his fishing rod and turned to face his dad. “Did you know about the Norse gods? The Chitauri?”

“We’ve known about the Norse since they were first created. Of course, it’s been a while since they’ve come to Earth, but, nevertheless. And with the Chitauri, not specifically. There are whole other worlds out there, Percy. Even I don’t know most of them, or even how many there are.”

“And why did you never bother to share this information with anyone?”

“It was never relevant. Until now, that is.” Poseidon stroked his beard, shifting his eyes away from the sea to his son. “Your uncle is in a sour mood. Apparently, Loki coming to Earth and waging war broke a treaty between Odin and Zeus. But as the Norse are in space and Zeus has no way of getting in contact, there’s nothing he can really do. I don’t care much for politics. I’ll be spending the next couple months in my palace just so I don’t have to listen to his grumbling and pitiful whining.”

Percy smiled a little. Catching Percy’s smile, Poseidon turned his attention back to his line, a twinkle in his eye. All of a sudden, the line became taught. “Oh, think I got something.” With a small flick of the wrist, the fishing rod started wheeling in the prize. Percy could see the start of a gigantic sea serpent-looking monster. Poseidon only grinned at the monster. “This will do nicely. Amphitrite has been nagging me lately about her new diet, wanting to try new things. Hopefully, this will do the trick.”

The demigod figured his father would just disappear, but the god turned back to Percy. “I need you to remember, son, that no matter what happens in the future, I will always be proud of you. The coming times will be difficult, but I know you will prevail. With the reveal of the Norse, mortals will start to pry into other pantheons. The truth will come out at some point or another, I know it. Zeus is too confident that no one will ever discover the truth, but with the re-introduction of Thor… just know that many people might not be happy. Maybe even some of the gods.”

Percy nodded. When he had shown up in New York, in the midst of battle, he had known there was a chance of the demigods being exposed. And even though he had talked to Fury, and even though the media believed he was a mutant, it seemed like that would come true.

Poseidon clapped Percy on the back. “I’m sorry.” Was all he said before dissolving into the sea breeze, his fishing rod and dinner disappearing along with him. On the beach, a small sand dollar rested just where Poseidon had been standing, with Percy standing there alone.

Annabeth found him half an hour later still staring at the sand dollar. With only a glance at his face, she could guess what had happened. “Your dad?”

“Yeah,” Percy confirmed. He bent down to pick up the sand dollar, turning it over in his hands. It looked remarkably similar to the one Poseidon had given to him on his fifteenth birthday. With a sigh, he stood up and pocketed the sand dollar. “He wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“A lot. But he said he was proud of me.” Percy took Annabeth’s hand and pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her. She melted into the hug. “He also mentioned how the mortals are going to find out about us, sooner or later.”

Annabeth hummed. “When you first told me, I thought that might happen and just prepared myself for the worst.”

“I still think we have a while. People still doubt that Thor really is the same one from mythology.”

“But there are others out there, Percy. Others that might prod or poke just a little too closely and stumble across something they might not like.”

“We’ll deal with it when it comes. Together.” In the distance, the familiar sound of the conch shell blowing could be heard, calling the campers together for dinner. “Come on,” Percy tugged Annabeth towards the Pavilion. “I’m starving.”

Annabeth laughed. “You’re always starving.”

“Which is exactly why we should go eat. Come on, last one there’s a rotten minotaur!” Percy shouted before taking off. Annabeth followed, laughing and yelling as she chased after him.

\~*~/

A couple of days later, the two sat on the beach, staring up at the sky as bright explosions lit up the night sky above them. They watched as some of the usual fireworks were shown (the camp, George Washington crossing the Delaware River, and the more recent but continuous one of Camp Jupiter).

Percy’s face lit up as bright as the sky when he saw the one of the Avengers, all doing a fighting pose as the firework-Chitauri raced towards them on either side. It was exciting to watch as Percy’s firework-self destroyed some of the aliens, the fireworks exploding even brighter when a Chitauri died.

Finally, when the show was done, courtesy of Leo McSchizzle, Bad Boy Supreme, (Or so the fireworks proclaimed), most of the campers trudged to bed. Percy and Annabeth stayed on the beach; the daughter of Athena curled into Percy’s side. Percy’s eyes gazed at the bright stars. Somewhere out there in the vast emptiness of space, were Thor and his brother. The demigod hoped they were starting to patch things up. He really didn’t need Loki coming back to Earth to try and destroy it again the next time he and Thor had a little squabble.

Beside him, Annabeth yawned. Percy shifted his gaze to look down at her. “I think we better get to bed before the patrol harpies catch us. Want me to walk you to your cabin?”

Annabeth nodded tiredly. “Yes please.”

The two slowly stood up, their legs tired and heavy. They walked hand-in-hand together towards the cabins, both slightly leaning on each other. When they reached cabin six, Percy gave Annabeth a goodnight kiss before watching her head into her cabin. After the door closed, Percy trudged to his own cabin, cabin three. He didn’t bother changing into pajamas, barely managing to get his shoes off before he collapsed onto his bed.

Percy fell asleep with a smile on his face, dreaming of him and Annabeth laying under the stars together.

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blankdblank · 5 years

Text

Four Pt 3

Pt 1 – Pt 2

Black Jacket - Tim McGraw lyrics used

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All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

x Thorin – @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor

…

It had been hours without word from you and no doubt he more than deserved it but as he stared at his phone screen of the unanswered messages to you his brows inched up seeing you had read his finally. One by one they were marked read and at the end he eagerly added another to the line simply asking, “Did you find a decent hotel in Lindon?”

With your brows furrowed curiously you replied, “My Ada had plenty of room.”

His lips parted and he felt his heart skip realizing he had missed out on knowing a big chunk of your family, “I thought you lost your parents.”

“Oh, the tomb, no, that was my mother and step father. There was a bad divorce when we were little. Haven’t seen him in centuries.”

Risking a possible hang up or being ignored he called you, biting his lip hoping you would just let him know you were safe and being well cared for. But your voice came through the line and he calmed a bit at that alone. “Yo-, you’re father took your arrival well?”

With a smirk you replied on your path out onto the cold grass barefoot towards the swing set out a decent distance form the back door so you wouldn’t be overheard, “Well I had to cut off his hand, so, not that well.”

“Wait, what? I thought you were there to operate on one of the Feanoreans.”

Weakly you chuckled saying, “Maedhros Feanorean is my Ada.”

After a pause Thorin stammered, “O-oh..” you couldn’t help but grin at the sound of his shifting in his seat as you sat on one of the swings, “Is, or, was he badly injured? I mean past the hand..”

“Scrapes, bruises. Nothing the Elven doctors couldn’t mend easily. Just having to help with his rehab on his new hand.”

Thorin wet his lips, “Will, um, will that take long?”

“Few weeks at least.”

He nodded and felt his inner damn break gushing out each and every fault he had found from himself in your time together especially focusing on his points that he had returned all your artwork to their original homes and spoken to each of his relatives about honoring your home. “And I have told Nori I won’t be looking at any new homes, if you wished to one day live together fully, when I have earned it I wouldn’t dream of forcing you and the boys to move out of your home, which is already impossibly grand enough. Even in my time after work I’ve already picked up books on Elven traditions and cultures…��

You couldn’t help but grin asking, “Which ones?”

Thorin, “Oh, um, one written by a, squiggly something, it’s written in Quenya, and one with a horseshoe on the cover, written in something, else.”

You giggled ending his sentence, “Which forms of Elvish?”

“Oh, um, Sindar for one, Noldor for another, and they had one on Falmari. Is there a difference?”

You giggled again shaking your head, “Such big differences. My Ada is Noldor, my mother was Vanyar, though I stick to my Ada’s traditions. The boys’ father was Teleri, not far from Vanyar so it won’t be hard for me to share it.”

He nodded, “I’ll have to look up books on Vanyar and Teleri then.”

“You’re certain?”

“Of course. In fact Dis is insisting the whole clan buy copies too. The squiggly book I glimpsed inside and apparently your home, the arches bring harmony and the windows locations bring peaceful thoughts. The chimney is backwards for eternal oneness, whatever that means, it doesn’t explain what your chimney means if it’s backwards…” his voice trailed off into a ramble showing how much he’d already put into studying on what your home and the layout meant. Until he asked, “How are the boys? And you’re eating enough?”

“Ya, we’re good. The boys got to meet my cousin Celebrimbor, he’s their age, loves them already. We’ve had a full four meals already. If you thought Dwarves were protective of pregnant women you have not spent long around Elves. My six uncles live here too and none of them are away from me and the boys for long, or Ada.”

“That’s good. You have your vitamins?”

“My aunt Elanor bought me a new batch, forgot where I left mine yesterday morning before work. Probably in the bread box or something.”

Thorin nodded then growled at his buzzing phone he drew away from his ear to read the message he was just sent then answered, “Work calling.” He wet his lips. “Oh, and Hensen is an ass! Heard him bragging on my way back from surgery. Trust me, me Dwalin and the boys are determined to make his last few weeks here hell and Dis knows his wife so she’s sharing all the drama he flushed up about pregnant women while his wife is carrying their seventh at home. Don’t you worry on that, we’ve got it covered, in the worst case Richard can’t put us all on leave till he’s gone.”

“Go to work, save some lives. Do that brooding look near the windows to seem all distant in thought across from the nurses lounge, gives them something other than bedpans and rude patients to talk about.”

He chuckled and bid you goodnight, promising to talk to you the next day after encouraging you to get some sleep yourself.

…In Lindon…

With a sigh you walked back into the house and to your gifted room beside your father’s to change out of your jeans into a pair of shorts. At the foot of your bed you stared at it after setting your sweater on it only to turn away from it to walk through your door and into your father’s room. Under his covers in the bed he lowered his new hand from over his head in another try at fully controlling all his fingers. An easy smile grew on his face and he brushed back his covers drawing a smile from you in return climbing on and walking across is bed to settle at his side wrapped in his arm.

Quietly you laid there until he kissed your forehead saying, “It pains me to no end you had to face burying Em alone.”

“If it helps she was able to help heal a group of children lead full lives in her passing.” He peered down at you as you shared the descriptions of the children receiving her organs widening his grin knowing some pieces of her remained for you all to find peace in her absence.

“How was this Thorin of yours?”

“He bought books on Elvish cultures, has spent near a full day studying each detail of the layout of Irime and Findi’s house they left me.”

He chuckled, “No doubt that fireplace was troubling for him to decipher.”

You giggled softly, “Yes. It was, he was also stunned about you being my Ada. Apparently he saw my trip on the news, was curious, just as the world apparently is on how you had gotten into contact with me.”

He chuckled again, “Yes, no doubt. I’ve even gotten a call from my manager asking how much this mithril hand has set me back, surely he was hoping he would still get paid.”

You giggled softly, “I never charge for it. What’s a bit of blood to free them from their troubles.”

He chuckled planting his lips on your forehead again through a muffled chuckle, “No doubt none of them know it actually is your blood.”

“Just my first team who watched me bleeding out over the Captain. Though when I woke up the file said they saw me uncover a vine of mithril in the cave we hid in I drained for the foot.”

He grinned using his two working fingers on his new hand to cover you more through another warm kiss, “Good, no doubt for your gift secrecy of its source was a small price. Though I doubt any have found recovery as easy as I have, at least by Curufin’s relaying your experiences to all of them while I was asleep. If it helps I can wiggle my little finger now.” Making you giggle and snuggle closer to him, “I do hope you don’t mind us moving in with you Pumpkin. I don’t want to miss another moment with you.”

Your arm draped across his middle after his next kiss as your eyes drooped shut and you dreamily sighed, “Neither do I.” He grinned again closing his eyes pressing his head to yours with a steady smile drifting off to sleep with you.

Over the next week your therapies seemed all the more ridiculous and tedious to Maedhros sinking his mood greatly leading to his early night in leading to your taking time in the in house studio. Eventually at the wafting sound of his brothers playing tore him from bed in an irritated huff about possibly waking the boys only to pause in the doorway seeing you holding one of the spare guitars from the wall to play his parts from one of their new unreleased songs for an upcoming album as you finely tuned Celegorm’s drum sections to fit to their style more in the transfer from the page to real life.

At his side Caranthir eased over nudging his side with his elbow as Maedhros stood open mouthed at your singing a set of lyrics helping Maglor with the timing you had imagined. “You didn’t think she got through med school on grants and scholarships did you?” Maedhros looked at him seeing his wide grin, “She’s our best writer, has been for decades.”

Through the room at your grin he moved to look over your notes only to peer over at Amrod when he handed him his guitar then to you at your saying, “Might as well give it a try.” He gave a timid nod and wet his lips shouldering the strap and easing the guitar into place along with his fingers only to close his eyes trying to feel the motions of the song you would play along with him.

I remember how it felt we were sittin' on the roof

You were in my black jacket drinkin' up the view

We were Romeo and Juliet smoking Lite cigarettes

All night long

Countin' yellow cabs we were showing tattoos

On top of the world we had nothing to lose

Fallin' like snowflakes crashin' out at your place

What went wrong

If I see you out tonight

You'll think I'm doin' alright

'Cause you can't see

What's underneath this black Jacket is a broken heart and

And I never take it off

'Cause I just can't hang it up

It's too torn apart this

Black jacket has a broken heart

As the guitar role picked up Maedhros’ eyes finally opened realizing you were playing in sync with him and he had only missed a couple notes so far as you guided Maglor along through the vocals.

I still use your umbrella when I'm walking in the rain

I cant help but crack a smile every time I hear a train

I never got your music till you left and made me use it

Just to keep you around

It's a small world town

If I see you out tonight

You'll think I'm doin' alright

'Cause you can't see

What's underneath this black Jacket is a broken heart

I never take it off

'Cause I just can't hang it up

It's too torn apart this

Black jacket has a broken heart

A nip at his lip later he focused on the rising tempo in this part of the song.

One day I'm gonna take it off

Set it up in flames

Oh I won't even hear it, when somebody says your name

Nothing left to hide

I won't even hurt

Yeah, I'll be alright in a white T-shirt, but

If I see you out tonight

As the tempo slowed again a grin eased onto his lips seeing how seamlessly he was slipping back into the old motions. His eyes moved to you as your hand left the neck of your guitar to rest on your stomach only to draw Maglor’s to rest over it with a wide grin feeling your little ones shifting at the vibrations from the guitar below them.

If I see you out tonight

You'll think I'm doin' alright

'Cause you can't see

What's underneath this black Jacket is a broken heart and

I never take it off

'Cause I just can't hang it up

It's too torn apart this

Black jacket has a broken heart

Ooh, ooh, ooh

As the song ended his grin remained and his hand moved to steal a feel of his own of your bump along with his brothers before he wet his lips and chose one of their classics his brothers revealed to have been from you as well. Steadily you played with him for a couple hours until he caught your yawn between songs then he set aside your guitars and led you to his bed for some more sleep.

A few more days had passed until news of there being an inability to shift the date for a fan meet left you at the house with Elanor and Celebrimbor for most of the day until they returned exhausted and a bit uncertain after hearing they would have to head back out for the final two weeks of concert dates. Though as you heard Elanor and Celebrimbor had been traveling along with them you found your joining them for a glimpse of their tour finally possible. The grin on Maedhros’ face wouldn’t drop fro hours after knowing you would be coming with them. Through the west you would travel around for six shows then the brothers had planned it to be time for your move. A few of Maedhros’ brothers were going to stay in the house in Lindon after they had packed up to move into your house, which one of the second studies you had set up as your own in house studio the Durins had thankfully not found access to.

Through the few dates you left the boys back stage with Elanor to stand near the edge of the stage playing along with Maedhros giving him courage even though their overly eagerness to even see the full band together in support of their return. All that joined with their love for simply being in their presence, fully knowing that live shows weren’t meant to be perfect. The added bonus of seeing the newly announced and impossibly talented daughter of one of the members was greatly publicized in their media stops between shows. The last of which ending in Greenwood granting Elanor time to set up her paperwork for her new job with Curufin while the rest of you set up in your home.

Easily enough after their first walk through as you watched the boys settle their toys back into their proper places in their room the men unpacked the truck into their chosen rooms and joined you and the boys in the kitchen where you had added yet another painting. The sight of a figure passing by the window with dark hair sent Fili and Kili racing inside after getting off their late shift. The door closed after them and into the kitchen the rushed hearing the boys singing a rambling tune only to pause after calling out, “You’re back!”

In shock their eyes scanned over the tall men around you looking them both over before your father approached them offering his new hand, “Fili and Kili I presume.”

They nodded shaking his hand then peered around him at you seeing you approaching to accept their hugs filled with their muddled apologies. After you pulled apart you named all your relatives only to hear your door open and Dwalin’s voice through the door calling out, “Boys, you left your bags outside.”

Maedhros leaned in asking, “Thorin?”

You shook your head, “Dwalin.”

Behind the bald dwarf who dropped the bags in the doorway to the kitchen Thorin entered and froze only to grin at the boys greeting him happily. Through the sea of introductions he made it to the boys accepting their hugs to leave kisses on their cheeks and foreheads only to peer up at you in your approach after Dwalin’s tearful apology filled hug. A nod of your head brought him closer to melt around you in a hug of his own and a firm kiss after. The oven timer sounded breaking you apart freeing you to tug Thorin to the table into the seat beside yours as he stole a stroke of your slightly more pronounced bump he was grateful he hadn’t chased you away longer than he already had.

While your plate was being filled by both Maedhros and Thorin you chuckled at Fili’s asking form his trip to the bathroom, “So, whose boxes are in the spare rooms?”

You couldn’t help but grin as Thorin sat beside you eyeing you carefully wondering the same thing in his focused attempts to keep his attention away from the new portrait in the kitchen across from him. “Jaqi?”

Turning your head you let out a weak giggle as Maedhros stated plainly with a grin of his own, “Oh that, we’re moving in.”

Kili asked as you took a bite of this meal, “All of you?”

Maglor nodded and reached over shifting the boys’ plates closer to them replying, “Yup. We’ve all missed so much in their lives, besides with the new little ones on the way you’ll be needing all the help you can get while you two are at work. I doubt the daycare will let you bring all of them everyday.”

Amrod, “Besides, to follow Elven courtship in these circumstances you will be needing our presence.”

Amras, “Unless you are choosing to stick to Dwarven traditions instead.”

Celegorm, “Though even there you would still require certain blessings first.”

Maedhros, “Don’t worry, we’ve left a considerable space in the library as well as the studies for your belongings for nights reading in.”

Thorin lowered his fork then glanced at you asking, “My, belongings?”

You flashed him another quick smile as Maedhros stated, “In your Vanyar courting book you’ll read there is a dwelling phase in courtships. You will live with us all and complete the tasks required to earn Jaqi’s trust as well as affirm your place together and settle your plans for how your children will grow.”

Thorin wet his lips as Fili asked, “I thought Elves didn’t live together until they were married.”

Maglor raised a brow, “In what race does carrying another’s children not count as marriage?”

Dwalin’s lips pursed before he grumbled, “Told you.”

Thorin sent him a weak glare then asked Maedhros across from you both, “Does that mean we will have to plan the ceremony soon?”

Curufin, “Not at all. In fact to do so would be a great insult. It is best, in these cases to follow tradition of birth first and then not until the little ones have reached their first steps a proper engagement is allowed.”

Kili, “He has to wait that long?”

Dwalin, “Not sure Gran will allow him to break our traditions so far.”

Thorin wet his lips, “For our kin we must be at least engaged by the birth.”

Maedhros nodded then answered, “I am certain in this circumstance we might allow a well deserved engagement, however, it must be approved by Jaqi and not allowed to be taken as anything but an honest display of intentions, not simply done out of tradition for a time limit.”

Thorin nodded, “Of course.”

By lunch Curufin and Elanor arrived with little Celebrimbor in hand adding to the group of Elves now imposing the same wall of expectations on the future and shaping of the children and couple involved for Thorin that you had felt. If he had imagined himself clear on what he had done he now abundantly clear on what your position was and no doubt he imagined this was your family’s revenge in your place so he would understand. Not long after the Durins began trickling in rushing to apologize to you as well as learning just who the men were in your life and why they had been away from you for so long. But the separation of your family and divide between you and your also unmentioned twin was shared explaining your silence on the subject of your busy family half a world away.

Between the dinner and breakfast the next morning Thorin treasured being able to slip into your bed with you and hold you once again. Loving murmurs of Khuzdul between lingering kisses were finally put to an end by you so he could rest up for his next shift. Alone he woke and groggily found his way to the kitchen only to peer up with pursed lips nad a twitching brow at the colorful face of a cow new to the pale grey wall over the white and pale yellow tile backdrop. Wordlessly he tore his eyes away from it and forced a wide grin at you as you set a full plate and cup of coffee in front of him. When your uncles began trickling in you moved to finish prepping your own cup of tea beside your plate you couldn’t help but grin seeing your Cousin Elrond, who arrived last night who eased to your side in the line for coffee and peered up at the painting under furrowed brows.

“Um, so, which one of your patients painted that one.”

With a grinning nod at Thorin eating as he stared at it you mumbled behind your mug to your cousin, “I painted it.” Elrond peered at you curiously, “Just waiting to see how long it takes for him to say something.” You stole a sip as he chuckled filling his cup of coffee when you moved to your own seat by Thorin. You raised your full fork and eyed Amrod and Amras both carrying your boys to the table where Caranthir and Celegorm had already set up their breakfast for you and jumped at the chance to help them eat it. Your comment had floated around the table an in a swapping set of shared gazes you could spot their own wagers being set on when he would finally crack, though he seemed likely to last at least a few days where after he had gone Fili and Kili both lasted only a few moments after walking into the kitchen only to turn around asking together, “What’s with the cow?!”

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr

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vegalocity · 6 years

Photo

Here’s a gift to @thestarfan18 that’s not really a gift bc i’m also posting it for Selfish reasons.

Some of my best fics and ideas are made from plot bunnies that are more along the lines of ‘intrusive thoughts but with themes’ so this has been playing out in my head for the past few days and I thought ‘eh, might as well write it’ so it would leave me alone.

So happy Unbirthday Valentina! May your beard grow ever longer and your story grow ever more complex! (also sorry if the plot implications are super dumb, I have no idea if James even HAS a master plan beyond ‘1:kill halley 2:take throne 3:??? 4:profit)

The ground was cracked beneath Philharmonic Butterfly. His shoes were in near tatters, his chest and arms littered with cuts and bruises. His left eye was starting to swell, his cloud blue hair was singed at the tips. The cut on the back of his right hand—his bow hand if he couldn't hold a bow anymore how could he continue his lessons?—was deep enough he could see the sickly yellow-white of bone peaking out if he cared enough to look. And frankly the white hot pain that almost made him want to lop his whole hand off didn't make him want to look at all.

The flames that he had summoned without thought—inevitably stopping the eldritch entities his brother and great-aunt had summoned because nobody had known he could do it. Even him—had died down, the rocks that had been cracked both by his flames and Halley's magic had been charred to smoldering coals.

His hand was almost ripped open entirely, but his legs felt relatively okay, so he shakily got to his feet, ripping half the left sleeve off his shirt in the process for an impromptu bandage. His hand felt like it had the time he'd tried to fire lightning from the wand—well, the beautiful violin that was the wand when he held it—and it had bounced back on him. He used his teeth to tear the offending sleeve in half again, this time lengthwise. He hastily began to bind his hand, a little more strenuous than he had hoped granted he wasn't left-handed. But he was able to make sure the tendons were in the right places and wrapped his hand to ensure no further blood would make its way out, nor bone breaking. Phil considered himself rather enduring at that. A lesser man would have passed out under such pain.

And he only dropped to his knees to throw up from the pain after he was done so he considered that a success!

But that was the worst of his injuries, and now that he could actually gather himself enough to take in the rest of the world, he staggered back to his feet again to try and see out of the crater he'd fallen in.

If he'd seen correctly before everything went to hell, Great-Aunt Etheria had been swallowed with the portal, If he was in less pain he'd be a little more sympathetic to the idea of a family member being devoured by monstrosities not meant to be seen by mortal eyes; but he was in a lot of pain so he spat to the ground at the thought—a trace of blood in the spit from his bitten tongue—and thought bitterly to himself that the old hag deserved what she got.

Scanning around he was finally able to spot his sister. Her peach colored hair frizzy at the ends from the overload of magic that she'd let out with him to close the gateway. He couldn't see much more of her from his spot, other than the tip of one of her horns might have been cracked. Her wings had slid back to their smaller size no doubt, hidden by her hair, and the rest of her he couldn't quite make out from his spot.

Climbing from a crater with a hand that was maybe one cut away from massive muscular damage, heavy bruising up and down his body, and slowly loosing all sight in his left eye... well it was a little taxing. He nearly threw up from pain again when a block of cobblestone fell from it's tenuous spot and rammed heavily against his right hand on its way down. But all the same he didn't stop and wait to be helped out.

Halley was hurt more than he was, no one was coming for him if he waited at the bottom of this damned crater. And more importantly really, His sister was hurt and she needed him. Phil grit his teeth and finally—finally—he forced his left forearm to the top of the crater, pulling his upper body up with him.

He remembered how Halley went down, he'd just fallen into the crater the both of them had made when they’d closed the gateway, he'd been able to see the gateway closing almost perfectly. The hit to his head made him too dizzy to stand, let alone fight, but he watched their Great-Aunt be ensnared by something that looked like one of the aliens of Uncle Marco's Earth Movies. One of the alien creatures wasn't going back in without a fight and started shooting out its weird black appendages, trying to grab one of them. Phil had been just far enough away to avoid getting snapped up as well, but his brother had been less than lucky. James had gone full Butterfly, but his sword had been shaken from his hands so he had been relying on his magic alone.

And if what Phil and Halley had proven before, no single magic user was enough to make a match against these things. But then again, when had James ever thought himself as anything but better than the both of them at everything?

Halley had come to his rescue, she'd helped free him.

And when the creature spewed out some foul looking liquid, Halley—for some ungodly reason—pushed James out of the way, taking the hit to her side. Her scream was so loud the creature cringing inward from the noise had been enough to shut the portal entirely. Halley fell. He knew she wasn't dead, she couldn't be dead. But he needed to be there for her all the same.

His feet caught onto a stone that gave him enough momentum to push himself the rest of the way out of the crater (he really needed to do more pushups, his upper body strength was pathetic compared to his siblings) and began to shamble his way to his sister.

Halley was crumpled on the ground, she hadn't moved since she fell, and his gut dropped, but also for the fact that James hadn't left the two of them for dead.

His brother was hunched over his Sister and the light tingle on his cheeks as his marks turned to a pair of sharps was completely eclipsed by the hot rage that began to boil in his chest. He wasn't sure if he could run, but he could at least try.

“Get away from her!”

Well, it was more galloping, his left leg was a little stiffer than he'd hoped it would be. So he took a moment to stoop down and pick up a rock. James looked up at him and Phil took aim. His right hand throbbed as he gripped the stone harder, the pain spiked as he flung it forward, releasing the rock. But despite the pain his aim was true. The rock soared through the air and some how, for some reason, James' reflexes didn't kick in to catch or block it. He flinched away as the rock grazed his cheek, a small bead of blood cutting into his relatively unharmed flesh.

Phil was able to close the gap in that time thankfully, and gave a hard push to his older brother to get him away and crouch infront of Halley.

The left side of her face glowed with a sickly yellow magic, spreading like poison through the veins across her face. Her left cheek flower had turned a sickly greenish yellow and while she was breathing, it was a strained, shallow thing. Her chest rattling every so often in pain.

He shifted Halley a bit, wriggling his arm under her shoulders to pull her up a bit. Her head lolled back, mouth opening a bit at the weight shift but otherwise unchanged.

“Halley!” she didn't respond to him, he knew she probably wouldn't until he got her to their mother. Mom would fix this. He knew mom would fix this.

“Hold on Halley, You'll be okay.” He promised her quietly, he saw some movement out of the corner of his eye.

He glanced up, expecting to see Halley and himself alone in the wreckage, James fleeing the scene with the Wand in tow, But somehow, he wasn't.

James was actually getting closer to the two of them, the Wand—turned into the sword form he favored—still clutched in his hand from when he no doubt stole it from Halley's prone form, but he didn't look the least like he was about to leave. Or even that he was about to shove Phil away to finish the job.

No...he was looking at Halley as though she'd been replaced with a someone he didn't actively despise, dark brows raised high and face slack in shock.

“Is she.. dying?” he finally said, voice just barely over a whisper. “I couldn't... I didn't know what to check...” Phil clenched his jaw and held out his free hand.

“She'll be fine. Give me the wand, I need to get her home.” James' other hand went up to the grip of the sword and Phil looked him dead in the eye then. He felt a stringing in the corners of his eyes, and he hoped beyond all hope just a spark of Dad's rage face shone through onto him.

“James.” he stated calmly, but firmly. “Call me paranoid, but granted you just opened a gateway to hungry elder abominations, I feel like I can't trust you with the Family Magic Wand at the moment.” he made a grabby motion with his fingers and finally James relented, placing the sword in Phil's waiting hand. With a small shower of blue sparks it became the ornate violin that marked it as his.

He looked down at the violin, then at Halley. He needed two hands to play it, and his bow hand was injured. But Halley sure as heck couldn't prop herself up under her own power. He pinched his lips into a fine line and with a flourish the violin condensed into a small conductor's baton, the only hint at its magical properties being the family crystal, a deep blue gem affixed to the pommel. He slid the baton into his belt loop and then used his now free hand to prop Halley up from under her knees.

His muscles screamed in protest as he began to lift, the bruises up his torso throbbed and the cuts along his arms and chest threatened to open again, but no pain was worse than the one in his hand. Halley's head lolled and the infected side of her body pressed against him, but the weight and the grip sent sparks of agony up his whole arm. He'd probably have some kind of nerve damage in that hand after all this, wouldn't he?

James made a half-aborted motion towards them, as if he was about to try and help Phil carry their sister. He snorted to himself at the thought. Halley hung limply in his arms and just taking the first few steps his arms trembled and threatened to give in.

James stayed where he stood. Eyes on Halley and incomprehensible expression on his face. No doubt he was wondering how easy it would be to knock him out and kill Halley while he still had the chance.

Well Phil wasn't about to let that happen.

He shifted Halley in his arms, she looked so fragile, her skin starting to pale, the large bruise on the side of her face that wasn't infected with... whatever this was... was purple and bordering on a welt. His heart dropped at her stillness, his vision blurred for a second before clearing up.

“You know...” He found himself saying “All I ever wanted was for you two to stop fighting. I just wanted us to be happy. I never wanted to take sides in your stupid fights because I hated them in the first place.” he gripped Halley a little tighter as he began to walk. He couldn't hear the rubble disturbing behind him, James wasn't following them.“But the truth is she's always been too good to even compare to you.”

Some how, there was some motion beneath him at that. Halley groaned lightly and began to crack her eyes open. Well, not all of her eyes. Her right and center eyes looked no more than a little clouded from concussion, but her left eye, the one closest to the green infection, remained closed.

“Phil...?” She croaked out. “What's goin'....?”

“You're alright Halley.” He responded. “We're going home, we won.” She tilted her head in response, as though trying to look around him.

“Is... James..” she paused to take a rattling breath. “Is he okay?”

Phil grit his teeth. “He's just fine. We're all just fine.”

“Oh... okay.” Halley smiled weakly. “That's good.”

His cheek marks didn't change back, even as he smiled and kissed his sister's forehead, just above her center eye.

He was furious

And he planned to stay that way.

James didn't understand. He couldn't understand. He'd done everything right! He'd made his alliances, they'd set up their plan, they'd EXECUTED their plan, and his stupid sister had been right there for eldritch chowtime.

Phil had come too, but he could be avoided easily, after all James had no qualms with his brother beyond Phil being a little too spineless at times.

But the stupid little demon had been able to stop the portal. And killed their Great-Aunt in the process! Forget calling him Heirslayer, Halley was a Kinslayer! Wasn't that enough to get her off the throne?

He hadn't needed her help. He might not have had the wand on him, but he was still the most powerful of the three of them, he could have gotten the tendril monster to let him go without her. He didn't need her help, and he told her so repeatedly when she kept insisting on scratching and blasting at the thing holding on to him.

But then...

Then she said the thing he didn't understand.

“You may not value my life, but I still value yours!”

He thought she was happy to be heir, that she loved that she'd snatched the throne right out from under him. Every argument that had to him always just sounded like the little demon being childish and wanting to rub her victory in his face... he thought she was as excited about becoming queen as he was determined to not let a freak on the throne.

She hadn't even hesitated to push him out of the way when the creature spat out that disgusting liquid.

She lay crumpled beneath him and he could have easily put his hands around her neck and squeezed until she stopped that raspy attempt at breathing. It could have been over, he could have won before Philharmonic got in the way like an absolute tool.

So why didn't he? He'd just been leaning over her indecisively for what must have been minutes. And then he let Phil's stupid little rock hit him. The small little spike of pain that pricked his cheek had barely even processed in comparison to the sheer fury on his little brother's face. He'd never seen Phil so angry.

He looked a lot like dad when he was angry.

“You may not value my life, but I still value yours!”

Those words were... more difficult to parse out than he expected. It went against everything he knew about Halley... or maybe thought he knew.

Maybe he didn't know anything about her at all.

Phil walked off, Halley, probably dying a little bit, waking up only briefly before passing back out, James took a seat in the rubble and rested his chin on folded arms.

He needed to think.

#tomstar children #halley butterfly #Phil Butterfly #James Butterfly #thestarfan18 #vega writes stories too #vega draws #Star Vs Next Gen #i love me some political intrigue #which is why i love Valentina's triplets #there 90% political intrigue

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mamabearcat · 6 years

Text

The Importance of Ramen: Ch3

Ch 1 Ch 2

Kagome sat on the mossy bank, her feet swinging in the crystal-clear water. The warm summer breeze lifted her dark hair around her face, and she tucked the errant strands behind her ear. The spot that Inuyasha had picked for their lunch break was beautiful; a swift flowing stream surrounded by willows. The water swirled and bubbled around her legs, and the smooth pebbles were cool under her aching feet. Bright red dragonflies hovered amongst the reeds nearby, adding their buzz to the sound of the cicadas chirping amongst the elegant willow branches moving in the breeze. Shippou was curled up in her lap, his fluffy tail tucked over his nose, the dappled sunlight making spotted patterns on his fur. He was snoring gently.

She looked down at her lap, smiling fondly at Shippou. She had brought a packed lunch back for each of her friends when she had returned through the well this morning, and although he had battled valiantly, Shippou’s portion had obviously been too much for him. She looked up, checking the sun’s position in the sky. They would have to get back to the search for the jewel shards again soon, but it felt good to stop and rinse off her sweaty feet. Although not quite as humid as modern Tokyo, it was hot here in the past too, and everyone in their group was enjoying a brief respite from the heat of the sun on the dusty road.

Kagome rubbed her eyes tiredly. She had finally managed to catch up on all her assignments, and had hoped last night that she would be able to catch up on the hours of sleep she had missed the previous two nights, but her sleep had been plagued by dreams. She couldn’t even really remember them, apart from the vague impression that she had been running in all of them, chasing something, but she didn’t know what. She rubbed her eyes again – they felt gritty and dry, and she felt vaguely ill, like she was coming down with a stomach bug. She really hoped it was just lack of sleep, she couldn’t afford to slow everyone down now they were back on the jewel shard hunt.

The longer the hunt went on, the guiltier she felt about shattering the jewel in the first place. Every time they came across an animal or lower demon that had a shard that wasn’t under Naraku’s direct influence, she felt her gut clench. How many villages had been destroyed, lives been lost, because of her moment of inexperience with the bow? It was up to her to make it right, and to help the others as much as she could, even though she could never hope to be as skilled as they were. She sighed, gently stroking Shippou’s tail as the petite fox kit slept on. She was so exhausted, she wished she could stay sitting on the bank forever. Her weary eyes were drawn to a tiny kingfisher, fluttering on a low branch on the other side of the stream. Its iridescent blue feathers caught the afternoon sunlight like a sapphire, as it repeatedly dived to catch tiny silver fish, bashing them sideways on the branch before swallowing them whole. Kagome took a deep cleansing breath. Everyone on this earth needed to work for their dinner, and she was no exception. Her friends needed her help, and she would not disappoint them.

Inuyasha watched from his perch up in the tallest willow as Kagome gently placed Shippou onto a nest of moss, and padded over to check the recently refilled water bottles that were chilling in the cool stream. It had become part of their routine to build a fire and boil water for drinking as soon as they stopped near a flowing water source, ever since Kagome had explained how drinking water that wasn’t boiled could make you sick. Inuyasha didn’t quite understand her explanation about bacteria, but he had seen how whole villages could become ill from drinking polluted water, and he wasn’t going to take any chances with his pack.

After Kagome pulled the bottles out of the stream, Inuyasha watched as she sat next to her backpack, and after placing the water bottles inside, produced a small towel which she used to dry her feet, and then tugged back on her socks and sneakers. She had returned through the well this morning without her usual school uniform, explaining her mother was tired of continually replacing it after it got ripped and stained. Instead, she was wearing blue cropped hakama that she called ‘shorts’, and a cherry blossom pink top with long sleeves.

Inuyasha examined her face carefully as Kagome pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, securing it with a band. She looked tired; her face was paler than usual, and the dark circles above her cheekbones made her usually vibrant brown eyes look listless. Inuyasha made an annoyed grumbling sound in the back of his throat. Yes, he was proud of her efforts to improve, but if she didn’t rest, she was going to end up sick or injured. He wouldn’t let that happen. He looked around to check on the rest of his pack. Mirokou was sitting cross legged under a willow nearby, his eyes closed and shakujo resting across his knees. Sango sat close to him, polishing her hiraikotsu, softly humming, with Kirara perched on her shoulder, mewing softly.

Kagome looked up as she felt, rather than heard, Inuyasha land lightly next to her on the soft grass.

“Time to get going again?”, she inquired, squinting up at him, his light hair and ears haloed by the bright sun behind him.

Inuyasha nodded, holding out a hand and wrapping his fingers around her slim wrist as she reached up to him, hauling Kagome to her feet.

“There’s a village on the other side of that bluff over there”, he said, nodding in an easterly direction, behind her. “If we leave now, we’ll get there before nightfall.”

“Sure, sounds good”, replied Kagome cheerfully. Even though she had her sleeping bag, a futon inside an inn was always preferable to the hard ground, even if she did enjoy looking at the stars as she fell asleep. As she went to pull back her hand, Inuyasha noticed a dark mark just under her sleeve. He tightened his hold on her wrist.

“What’s this!” he growled, gently pulling back her sleeve, showing a livid bruise that ran from the middle of her forearm up to her elbow. Kagome tried to twist out of his grip, but it was no use.

“Inuyasha, stop, please! It’s nothing”, Kagome fidgeted, looking down at the ground. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Who did this to you?”, he growled menacingly.

Kagome sighed. “Stand down, dog boy. I did this to me. It’s just a bow string slap bruise. Don’t worry about it, it looks a lot worse than it is.” She pulled her arm out of Inuyasha’s grip, and picked up her backpack. “So, if we leave now, we’ll get to that town before sunset, huh? I better go wake up Shippou.”

“Stop trying to change the subject wench!” began Inuyasha. Mirokou and Sango walked over to join in the conversation.

Kagome, can I see?” asked Sango gently, pulling back the pale pink sleeve on Kagome’s arm again. “Ouch! When did you do this?”

“Last night when I was practicing”, sighed Kagome, pulling her sleeve back down over the bruise. “Really, you all need to stop making such a fuss. It’s a common injury in archery. I iced it last night to keep the swelling down, and it will probably look worse before it’s gone, but it’s really no big deal!”

Mirokou smiled at her. “Well, if it is as you say, Kagome, we should stop fussing. Although” he continued, gently tapping his forefinger on his chin in a thoughtful way, “I’ve never seen you injure yourself before like this when using your bow.”

Kagome groaned, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. Why wouldn’t everyone just leave this alone! “I was just tired, ok!”, she snapped. “I was thinking about other stuff, and it was a moment of inattention, and my form got sloppy.” She bent down, retrieving a leather armguard from her backpack. “I’ve brought a bracer with me to wear, so you don’t have to worry about it. It won’t affect my ability to take down an enemy.” Kagome laced the protective leather on over her sleeve swiftly, covering from her palm almost up to her elbow. “There, is everyone happy now?!” Swinging her backpack over her shoulder, she picked up her bow and quiver and stomped over to where Shippou had just began to sit up, rubbing his eyes.

“Is it time to go?” he yawned tiredly.

“Definitely”, growled out Kagome, encouraging him to jump up on her shoulder. She began marching off in the direction of the village that Inuyasha had mentioned, her fists by her sides, muttering under her breath.

“Is it my imagination, or does our Kagome sound a touch fatigued”, mused Mirokou, as he helped kick dirt on the fire so they could follow Kagome and Shippou a safe distance behind. “I would have hoped the three days she spent with her family would leave her well rested.”

Inuyasha bristled. “She doesn’t rest at all”, he growled. “She does study, and archery practice, and self-defence classes and shrine duties and miko practice and school. She doesn’t sleep much so she can catch up on schoolwork. The only good thing about her going home is her mother’s cooking. I think she actually rests more when she’s with us.”

Sango gasped. “I had no idea she was doing all this. It’s not like we rest very much when we’re out shard hunting either. She’s going to get injured if she doesn’t look after herself properly. Why is she doing this to herself?”

“It’s obvious isn’t it?” growled Inuyasha. “You know what she’s like. She always puts herself last. She likes fixing stuff. She broke the jewel so she needs to fix it. She wants to help us, but she’s worried she’s not good enough”.

Mirokou narrowed his eyes. “That’s very intuitive of you Inuyasha, if your evaluation of her feelings is correct. But why on earth would she believe that she is not up to the task?”

“How would I know?” barked Inuyasha. “I don’t understand half the stuff that goes on in that wench’s head!” He ran his claws through his long hair in exasperation. “I talked to her mother, and she said something about stubbornness, and burdens, and… and families.”

Sango looked towards the two figures who were getting further away, just about to move out of sight behind a gently sloping hill. “She’s comparing herself to us, isn’t she”, she sighed. Inuyasha looked at her blankly.

Mirokou nodded. “I feel I know what you are getting at my dear Sango. We grew up learning the art of defence and combat out of necessity. Kagome has grown up in a time of peace, where these skills are not necessary. She has never had the need to learn them, but now the current situation with the shikon jewel has thrust her into an ongoing battle which she feels she lacks the skills for.”

Sango nodded, turning her face back towards the fast disappearing figure of Kagome. “Alright, we are her family here, and we need to help. What can we do?”

Inuyasha looked at them both, relieved that they understood the situation. “Sango, you can teach her some hand-to-hand stuff; maybe teach her how to use a knife for when she runs out of arrows.” Sango nodded, looking determined. “Mirokou, I know you can make spiritual barriers for defence, do you think that’s something Kagome could do as well?”

“I’m sure of it”, he nodded.

“Good”, huffed Inuyasha. “But, we have to try and make it seem like the wench has come up with the idea of doing this with us herself. It needs to seem like she’s helping us in some way, or she’ll get all twitchy about it. I know she likes sorting stuff out herself, but we don’t have time to wait. Something happened recently in her world that made her lose confidence in herself, so if we…”

Sango’s eyes flashed. “What happened, Inuyasha?”

Inuyasha gulped. “I promised I wouldn’t say”, he said firmly, eyeing the taijiya’s grip on her hiraikotsu warily. “But, she needs us. She’s forgotten that she can ask us for help too.” Suddenly his head shot up, his ears swivelling rapidly in the direction of the girl and the fox kit. They were now out of sight, but he could hear a shrill yelp of surprise and fear from Shippou, and the dull thwack of Kagome’s arrow hitting a target. “Fuck it”, he growled out, “she’s in trouble again!”

He leapt forward, leg muscles bunching as he put on a burst of speed that had Sango, Mirokou and Kirara scrambling to catch up. Kagome and Shippou must have just turned around the bend in the road. As he got closer he could hear an eerie hissing, squeaking sound, that set his teeth on edge. He put on another spurt of speed, only to be confronted by a gigantic rhinoceros beetle that towered over Shippou and Kagome. The sound was coming from beneath the beetle’s tough outer wings.

“Jewel shard behind its eyes”, yelled Kagome, dancing backwards hurriedly as a spur shaped projection on one of the beetle’s segmented legs came a little too close for comfort. Inuyasha could see one arrow wedged in between the shiny black segments near the monster’s neck. “My arrows are just bouncing off; its shell is too hard. We need to get it in the air, so I can shoot under the wings!”

“I can’t leave you alone for one moment, can I wench?!”, roared Inuyasha, drawing his Tessaiga and glaring at the monster beetle. The beetle raised and lowered its enormous y-shaped horn menacingly as if in challenge, its mouthparts moving furiously. “Kagome, Shippou, get behind me, I’m going to try and tip it with the Wind Scar!” He readied his stance, as Kagome and Shippou moved to run behind him. All three of them were taken by surprise as the huge beetle suddenly flipped its outer wings upward, and with a deep thrumming buzz, launched itself into the air, catching up Kagome with the clawed protrusions on the ends of its front legs. Kagome’s bow clattered uselessly on the ground as she fought to get free.

“Sango!”, bellowed Inuyasha, as he leapt to grab on to one of the beetle’s legs as it quickly became airborne. The shiny black surface was slick in his hand, his claws scrabbling to get any purchase as he tried to swing himself onto the creature’s head. He could hear Kagome’s heart beating frantically, as she struggled to get free of the beetle’s grip, swinging her legs wildly to try and get momentum. The beetle grasped her harder, pushing the barbs on its front legs into her arm and thigh. She shrieked in pain.

“Kagome! Stop moving, it’s too high! Wait for Kirara!” yelled Inuyasha. He finally succeeded in swinging himself astride the huge beetle, as it bucked in the air, trying to throw him off. He could see Sango and Kirara flying directly under the beetle, with Miroukou and Shippou watching anxiously from the ground below. Kagome stopped her thrashing, and dangled in the monster beetle’s grasp, blood oozing down her arm and leg.

“Doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere fast”, Kagome muttered back, gritting her teeth as the beetle shifted its front legs, still trying to buck Inuyasha off the back of its head.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that”, cried Sango, who had asked Kirara to fly directly underneath Kagome. With a flash, Sango’s katana sliced through the insect’s front legs, dropping Kagome in a messy sprawl onto Kirara’s waiting back. At almost the same moment, Inuyasha plunged the Tessaiga straight down up to the hilt into the gap in between the monster’s head and thorax. Kirara leapt out of the way, fire trailing from her feet as she took Sango and Kagome safely back down to the ground. The droning buzz of the beetle’s wings became intermittent, as the creature’s head began to hang forward, and as the head parted company from its neck, the wings stopped moving altogether as the body began a rapid freefall toward the ground. Inuyasha leapt from the insect just before impact, sliding his feet as he landed in the long grass.

The head and body landed a good distance apart, but Inuyasha was taking no chances. He loped towards the head, and sliced it in half with his Tessaiga before the shard could assist in the insect’s regeneration. The revealed shard glinted in the afternoon sunlight, amidst the goop oozing from the insect’s cleaved head, the mandibles and antennae still twitching feebly.

Kagome slid from Kirara’s back, ignoring Sango’s plea to wait, dragging herself forward to the remains of the insect. Reaching down, she grabbed the shard in her fist, and would have fallen forward into the slime if Inuyasha hadn’t grabbed her shoulders from behind to stop her descent.

“Still a klutz”, he breathed out, drawing her backwards with one arm, holding her tight to his chest. Kagome sagged against him, her legs buckling, her head lolling backwards to rest against his shoulder.

“Quiet, you”, she mumbled, closing her eyes. She felt sweaty and slightly sick, now that the fight was over, and she could feel blood still dribbling stickily down her leg, collecting in her sock. It felt vaguely ridiculous that they had just fought a giant version of an insect that Souta had once kept as a pet in his bedroom. She wondered idly what it would be like to have a day where at none of them was bleeding. At least it was her this time, and not Inuyasha, Miroukou or Sango, which made for a change.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up wench”, said Inuyasha, lifting Kagome gently into his arms. Even though his voice was its normal brusque pitch, Kagome could feel his hands and arms trembling. She opened one eye to peer up at him as he carried her over to where Sango was waiting with the medical kit, Shippou unpacking bandages, swabs and ointments with the practiced air of someone who was very familiar with the task. Kagome lifted her uninjured arm to swipe her hand at his cheek.

“Hey”, she said, trying to read his expression. His amber eyes glanced down at her and then looked away again, his ears drooping forward.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough”, he murmured miserably.

“Don’t sweat it, dog boy”, she smiled, trying to cheer him up. “You’re just upset that I get to be the star of the medical show today instead of you. I’m already good at first aid; gives you guys a chance to practice on me. And we got another jewel shard.”

Inuyasha huffed out a sigh, and placed her gently on the grassy bank of the low sloping hill, in between Sango and Shippou.

“Where’s Miroukou?”, inquired Kagome, looking around.

“He’s doing a quick perimeter check”, replied Sango. She placed pressure on the wound on Kagome’s thigh, which was still bleeding. “Let’s start bandaging you up, Kagome”.

Kagome sighed. “Insects often carry diseases and bacteria, so these wounds are gonna have to be cleaned really well with salt water first. You’ll find some in little plastic bags filled with it in the front section of the first aid kit.”

Shippou looked at Kagome anxiously. “Won’t that hurt, though?”

“Yeah”, replied Kagome, smiling at him, “but it’s better to do that now, than let them get infected later. You can help Sango, the quicker it’s over, the less time I’ll have to think about it, and then we can get moving again.”

Without a word, Inuyasha pulled Kagome onto his lap. Kagome ‘eeped’ in surprise, and Sango raised an eyebrow questioningly at him.

“What!”, he bristled, “I’m helpin’!”

Shippou dropped his anxious look to grin at Inuyasha mischievously, but silently fished the saline packets out of the first aid kit and handed them to Sango.

Inuyasha watched as Sango cleaned Kagome’s wounds carefully. They weren’t very wide, but looked deep, and he held his breath at her pained hiss as Sango irrigated them with salt water. At Kagome’s suggestion she placed a piece of tape across each wound to hold them closed before bandaging them up. Inuyasha could feel Kagome drooping in his arms as the minute’s ticked by.

“Hey, you ok wench?” he asked uneasily.

“Yeah”, sighed Kagome, and yawned. “You ever have one of those days, where you think things would have worked out better if you’d just stayed in bed?”

“All the time wench, all the time. Especially since I met you, you attract trouble like nobody else.”

“Hey”, protested Kagome sleepily, her head already nodding forward.

Mirokou arrived back from his check of the surrounding area, bending down to look at the patient.

“Was Kagome badly injured?” he questioned, taking in her closed eyes and limp pose in Inuyasha’s lap.

“Not too badly”, replied Sango, as she and Shippou packed up the medical kit, “but I think she’s exhausted. What do you think, Inuyasha? Should we find somewhere close by to camp, or keep heading on to the village?”

“Village”, replied Inuyasha, getting to his feet, with the sleeping Kagome still resting in his arms. “That carcass is gonna start attracting scavengers soon, and I don’t wanna be anywhere near it with Kagome out of action. If you three ride on Kirara, and I carry Kagome, we can get there in an hour or two.” He sniffed the air, glancing over towards the west, where dark clouds were building. “We should beat the storm if we leave now.”

Mirokou gathered up Kagome’s backpack, Shippou picked up the quiver, and Sango the bow, unstringing it carefully so it would be easier to carry on Kirara’s back. As Kirara bounded into the air, the four of them silently watched the hanyou striding towards the east purposefully, with Kagome cradled gently in his arms.

#inuvember #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha x kagome #I know people keep them as pets but rhino beetles give me the heebie jeebies

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unauthorizedbooknerd · 6 years

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I’m Sure I’ll Live - Sirius Imagine

Request: Hey! I have been loving your marauders imagines lately, so good! (especially the sirius ones) Could you do one with Sirius and reader gets hurt in some way physically, like she plats quidditch or something and he gets really worried and cute. thanks :3

A/N: This is really long, but it sure was fun to write (: Thanks for the request!

You tapped your quill lightly against your temple, struggling to come up with the next words of your essay. You had been slaving over it for days now, wanting to make it your best essay yet. Granted, you wanted every essay to be your best one yet, and it was not uncommon for Gryffindors to find you sat at the corner table in the common room working on an essay, regardless of the fact that you were actually a Ravenclaw.

It was quite uncommon to find members of other houses residing in the Gryffindor common room, but there was not one Gryffindor with whom you didn’t get along with, and so they all accepted your presence in their common room. Of course, if they didn’t, they’d have Sirius Black to deal with.

The sound of stomping feet rushing to the common room alerted you to the presence of four rambunctious boys that often interrupted your concentrated state. You smirked despite yourself, casually turning your head just as the four boys entered the room. Upon seeing you, they all made their way towards you, your boyfriend leading the pack.

Sirius settled himself on the arm of your chair, sliding his arm around your shoulders, your head resting comfortably on his torso.

“Y/N, please don’t tell me that you’re still working on this essay. You’ve been at it for three days, love,” Sirius said, his eyes scanning the mess of papers and books that occupied the desk admiringly.

“Yes, I’m still working on the essay, and if you wouldn’t mind,” you said, your eyes twinkling, “I would like to finish it. So if you could please leave me in peace for the next hour, it would be greatly appreciated.” You playfully pushed him off your chair, his body sliding off reluctantly.

James stood next to the chair opposite you, his body leaning lazily on the backside of the chair, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Are you not the least bit worried for the quidditch match tomorrow? You’re going up against Slytherin, y’know. I’m not sure if books or essays will help your chances.” His voice held a slightly mocking tone, but the grin on his face betrayed that it was all playful.

You rested an elbow on the desk in front of you, a small smile painted your lips, your snarky response practically rolling out of your mouth. “Well Potter, I don’t see how you can be one to judge since you failed to catch the snitch when you went up against Slytherin. That’s the only reason I’m even playing them tomorrow.”

The rest of the boys snickered in response, Sirius admiring the way your sarcasm was cutting enough to leave anyone (even James Potter) speechless. James put his hands up in a gesture that communicated ‘you won’ and he made his way over to the couch in front of the fireplace. Remus and Peter followed, and Sirius gave you a passionate kiss before he left you to continue your work.

The next day was a whirlwind of excitement, the entire school was electric at the thought of the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin match. Ever since you had joined the Ravenclaw team as Seeker last year (fifth year), the team had been almost unstoppable. The rivalry between Ravenclaw and Slytherin was one to rival even Gryffindor.

As you walked onto the field with your team, you quickly spotted your boyfriend holding a sign that read “Y/N: Claw Your Way To Victory!” You smiled at Sirius, a boost of confidence surging through your body. You reviewed your method in your head as you made your way onto the field.

As a Ravenclaw, one of your biggest strengths was analyzing situations. What you had analyzed about the snitch was that going after it prematurely was the biggest mistake a seeker could make. Alerting the opposite seeker to where the snitch was when you wouldn’t even be able to catch it was one of the fastest ways to lose a match. And so, your method was to find the snitch, and watch it until it was in a place where it was #1- not moving too quickly and #2- in a place that you could quickly and seamlessly catch it. It was because of this that you had been nicknamed the “ghost seeker,” because people almost never saw you actually get the snitch.

The Slytherin team had now made its way onto the field, and you were taken aback by the sight of the team’s beaters. You had only ever seen them as they were playing, and while they were flying they seemed much smaller than they did now standing in front of you. Ginormous seventh years, they were burly and rough, with hard-set eyes that held an angry look. You made up your mind to steer clear of them.

Finally, the game began, and you made your way high into the sky, above the beginning game. You flew slowly above the other players, methodically scanning the field for the little golden ball. Every now and again you’d steal looks at the Slytherin seeker, and seeing that they had not found anything either, you kept searching.

The game was nearing upon an hour, and still you’d had no sign on the snitch. Sirius was still enthusiastically yelling encouragement from the stands, and every once in a while you would glance up at him and meet his eyes. Your patience was growing thin though, and you had just about decided to start flying lower when you saw a glint of gold out of the corner of your eye.

Slowly turning your head to the right, you glanced down the field, catching sight of the ball hovering over the Ravenclaw goals. You waited for the correct moment, watching as the snitch began to whiz across the field, making its way to the opposite side. It stopped and hovered a few feet above the Slytherin hoops now, and you waited a second before slowly turning your broom in that direction.

You began to lower your altitude, starting slowly at first so as not to catch attention, gaining speed as you got nearer and nearer the goals. Nobody from either team had noticed you yet, not even the other seeker, so you urged your broom to go faster as you sped across the field toward the snitch. You were close now, you could see the snitch plainly and you extended your arm ready to grab it, your attention solely focused on the tiny golden sphere. The Slytherin seeker noticed now, but they were too late, as you were literally seconds from grabbing it, and then-

BAM.

One of the Slytherin beaters had noticed your path to the snitch, and in a last minute effort to divert you (or maybe, kill you), whacked a bludger straight at you with literally all of their might. The bludger hit you with a pounding force on your right shoulder, knocking you clean off of your broom, and you struggled to grab onto it as you fell, both of your arms catching it. The speed at which you were thrown off made you grab the broom with such a momentum that it yanked on your injured arm, making you scream out loudly in pain. You held on for a second until the pain was unbearable, your arms letting go of your broom almost against your will.

When the bludger hit you, Sirius was the first one to react, desperately plowing over people to get to the field. He kept his eyes on you the entire time, literally throwing people out of the way to get to you. He was yelling at you to hold on, or maybe he was just yelling, he didn’t recall. When you let go of the broom Sirius’ heart felt like it had stopped beating, and he had just made it to the edge of the field when you hit the ground. He ran like his life depended on it, because it felt like it did. He got to you and threw himself onto the ground next to you, turning you over onto your back.

You hadn’t fallen from a huge height, but it was still high enough for you to break a significant amount of bones. When Sirius turned you over, you were conscious, but just barely. Every part of your body was in pain, so you were too scared to try to move anything. You just tried to focus on Sirius’ face above you.

At this point teachers and students had rushed onto the field, Dumbledore getting to you a few seconds after Sirius. Madame Pomfrey also came scurrying with an enchanted stretcher that floated next to her. Sirius was speaking to you.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me darling. You’re going to be just fine. What hurts?” his eyes were overflowing with concern, and you saw tears in his eyes that he held back.

“Bludger hit my shoulder. Think it’s broken. Fell on that side. Hurts a lot,” You replied in broken sentences, speaking through gritted teeth. Madame Pomfrey set the stretcher beside you, and enlisted the help of Sirius and James (who had reached you a few seconds ago) to lift you onto it. After you were laid on the stretcher, it rose back up into the air, and this is when you allowed your heavy eyes to shut, the last image you saw being your boyfriend’s face as he trotted along next to your stretcher.

When you woke up the pain had very much subsided, but it was still there. You found your arm wrapped from your shoulder down to your hand, and felt your hip badly bruised. Looking around, you found that you were alone in the hospital wing, the sound of Madame Pomfrey tending to some potions coming from the far end of the room. You leaned your head up off your pillow, attempting to get a glance at the rest of your body to see if this was the worst of the damage, but the soreness in your shoulder kept you from too much investigating.

It was at this moment that Sirius walked into the Hospital wing, and you couldn’t help but stare at him as he came in. His long hair was messy and knotted, like he hadn’t run a comb through it in days. He was wearing his uniform shirt, but had the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He had a slight bruise just under his left eye that looked fresh, and his knuckles also had flourishing bruises on them. His eyes met with yours and an anger that had been there evaporated, replaced with a softness that he only ever revealed to you. He walked over to your bedside and sat gingerly in the chair next to you.

“Sirius Black, what on Earth has happened to you?” you asked incredulously, your left (and uninjured) hand grabbing his and holding up his knuckles.

“I could ask you the same question, love,” he answered lightheartedly, a small smile on his face.

You sighed, and he scooted his chair closer to your bed so that he was just inches from your face, his hand turning to instead grab yours and press your fingers to his lips. He looked down at your intertwined hands.

“That Slytherin beater was a monster to you, Y/N. He sent that bludger your way knowing it was going to send you off your broom. When you fell he didn’t even do anything, he landed and walked back to the lockers smiling. Couldn’t let that go, love,” he looked up and placed a delicate kiss on your forehead. You smiled as he pulled back, placing your hand on his cheek.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. He turned his face into your hand and kissed your palm, silently responding to the thanks.

“Madame Pomfrey said earlier that you’d be out of here by this evening. She repaired your broken bones, but said that your arm will take a little longer to fully recover. Was a nasty break,” Sirius said. He grimaced while saying the last part, looking mournfully at your right arm.

“I’m sure I’ll live,” you said dryly, also taking a glance at your bandaged arm. This made Sirius chuckle, and you laughed along with him.

Sirius stayed with you the rest of that day, eventually helping you leave the hospital and to your dorm so that you could get changed. You followed Sirius back to the Gryffindor common room, which happened to be empty since everyone had just left for dinner. You two sat on the couch, snuggled underneath the blanket together, talking and laughing and enjoying each other.

That night ended with you sleeping peacefully on the sofa, your bandaged arm lying across Sirius’ chest, his arm around your back, holding you close to him. He laid like this, wide awake, just appreciating your warm presence next to him, for a while. When he did finally doze off, it was with the happy thought of you, intact, by his side.

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