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exosmutfactory · 3 years

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◤Off The Rails◢

You remembered the first time you met, passing his figure that was enveloped in a cloud of smoke; a cancerous stick held between his fingertips. You knew he was trouble, knew the chaos he comes with. Yet every time he had to skip town, you wished… he’d come back for you instead.

Originally posted by tipannies

(This is my favorite gif to date, okay. I’m a hoe for Bambi Baek)

— Pairing: You & Baekhyun

— Genre/AU: smut, angst, fluff & comedy (if ya squint),

— Word Count: 11.7k (yikes!)

— Rating: 18-21+ (M) This sh*t is filthy, I’m not even kidding, don’t @ me (just kidding, please do, I’d love to discuss 😇)

— [ Contains: dom/sub themes, degradation, unprotected sex, public sex, oral / blow job / whatever you’d like to call it, bbh goes deep in that throat ok ]

— Warnings: blood, weapons, violence (mafia!au style), mention of prostitution, and a whole lot of bad luck.

❥ New year, new smut, new me, yo. Hehe, hello! I’m back with another shame(ful)less one-shot. This one will be longer than the rest. I hope you enjoy the ride this Baekhyun emits!

❥ Ps: sorry to all spaghetti lovers out there. Don’t read this while eating or if you’re queasy. It’s not that bad, but it’s mafia au. I’ll just leave it at that :’) 💔

❥ Happy reading, readers and lovelies~ Take a peek over at aff for more goodies 🌹

⏰🚂Off The Rails Tag List:🚂⏰

@to-all-the-stories-i-love @insta1010 @bellamendoza @wooya1224 @byuntrash101 @ateliersaab @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo @taehcore @thegreatandi @kimyhappy @bigbobohu @byunbabybaek @byuns-asscheeks

❥ Forgive me for the long plot :’)

You don’t know how you got here. Backed up against the wall of a darkened alleyway, too far away from the main street for anyone to hear you if you screamed.

Well... you actually do, but you wish you didn’t.

“Please...” your voice is a mere whisper against the ambiance of the late December air. “Please just- just one more month and I’ll have everything-”

“You said that last month, girly.” A tall, burly man steps forward from the shadows, the glint of his golden tooth making you shiver, pressing yourself further against the rough brick wall. “And the month before that.” His white, sinister grin is the only clear thing you can see in the dim lighting as his goons close in around you. “Time to,” he punches his fist into his hand, “pay up.”

In that moment, you lose your composure, swearing your late stepfather’s name loud enough for the heavens to hear. How dare that asshole take the easy way out and set you up to be the one to pay off his staggering debt of 3 million dollars? Who is foolish enough to rank up such a high price from gabbling - gabbling?! You’ve been kicked out of your house earlier today and fired from your stable job last week. There’s no way you’ll ever be able to pay it off at this rate, and now you are meeting your fate. All because of a selfish, addict-gabbling prick.

“Mother fucking, boot-licking son of a b-”

Just as the men step in front of you, a loud bang! crackles through the still night.

You freeze, squeezing your eyes shut. You know exactly what that sound was; there’s no mistaking it. The smell of gunpowder and the heavy thud of bodies falling to the ground around you only adds to your building fear. Your breath catches in your throat, something warm and sticky slides down your cheek. Breathe, you have to remind yourself, scraping your nails over the rough wall. You can handle many things, but gore isn’t your strong suit.

“The coast is clear.” A gruff voice pipes up from the entrance of the alleyway, switching off their static radio soon after. Multiple pairs of boots stomp closer to you and you can only flinch at the squish of human remains under their feet. “And then there was one…” A different voice humors.

You stay stock-still, maybe they won’t notice you. You’re wearing all black, how can they possibly see you in the darkness?

Unfortunately, your hiccup gives you away. Three sets of flashlights beam at you from beyond your eyelids. Great. Just great. Luck really isn’t on your side today. You are now faced with two options, either accept your new fate or make a break for it…

When you sense someone reaching for you, you duck your head and bolt.

“Hey!” They yell after you. You don’t even stop for a second, you pretend that the pile of bodies under your feet is merely spilled spaghetti while high-tailing it out of there. Their footsteps thunder after you on the pavement, growing fainter the more you force yourself forward. You can thank your lucky stars for running track in high school and having to avoid rabid canines on the streets of your shabby neighborhood. Everything happens for a reason, and you aren’t one to endlessly question what the universe has in store for you.

You push yourself further, working your legs to the limit for a couple of blocks. After a few twists and turns down alleyways you’ve memorized by heart, you don’t hear their furious strides and demanding voices anymore. Listening carefully to your surroundings, you slow down to a light jog, looking for a place to hide for a while. All you see are barren buildings and a lone road that stretches out for miles. “Shit,” you pant, leaning onto a collapsed building. You slowly make your way down the street, screaming on the inside at your bad luck. Every single place you come across is too dangerous to enter, with various warning signs plastered onto their boarded-up doors.

“For fuck sake.” You tangle your fingers into your hair, too pumped up on adrenaline to care about the burn on your scalp from pulling mercilessly on the tangled locks. Please. I need something. Anything. Just as you’re ready to give up, coming to terms with the fact that you will either die from the cold or the bloodied hands of strangers, you see a faint light up ahead. There… There! Just beyond a fallen wall partially hidden behind an old staircase.

You fly through the small hole in the wall, just big enough for you to fit through, and you manage to go down the steep slope of the crumbled wall without falling on your face. Your surroundings are a blur as you faintly hear a heated conversation between the men from before, coming closer to where you are. You take cover behind the first wide, stone pillar you see, stopping for a moment to catch your breath. God... what the hell was that? What has your life turned into? How could your life go from worrying about paying off student debt to running from loan sharks and other hoodlums?

“What a fucking joke.” You chuckle at your expense, resting your back against the pillar. Thankfully the group of men seems to have moved on, or at least they are not hovering around where you are anymore…

Uh, where are you exactly?

A spark of fear goes down your spine - even more so when you hear an amused chuckle that is definitely not your own.

You spin around on your heel quick enough to give yourself whiplash and raise your fists, bracing yourself for anything. Your eyes widen at your surroundings. All you see is an underground train track that goes on for miles, and a wispy cloud of smoke that is coming from more than just the freezing late night December air.

“If you think you’re being intimidating, sweetheart,” a low, raspy voice echoes across the abandoned concrete walls, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not.”

The smoke clears up for a moment, letting you catch a glimpse of the man and his midnight black hair. His eyebrows are hidden behind the length of his hair, the straight locks long enough to dangle into his droopy brown eyes. You lock eyes with those deep, brooding orbs before smoke obstructs your view of him again. “Your form is off, your shoulders are too stiff.” He lists off in a humorous tone. “You’d break your own hand before you’d break anyone’s nose, sweetheart.”

“Who the hell are you?” you demand, not ready to let your guard down yet.

He seems to be even more amused. “I go by many names,” he shares, the smoke clearing up just enough to show the quirk of his lips as he holds up a cigarette. His all-black outfit of a dark blazer, black tie, matching dress pants, and a white button-down shirt makes him stick out like a sore thumb compared to the stone pillar he’s leaning against. And to your horror, you realize he’s standing inside of the train tracks… you’re standing inside of the train tracks!

“What’s yours?” he inquires while you frantically look around for an exit.

You pause, throwing him an unamused look over your shoulder. “None of your business, creep,” you sneer, having enough of his antics. What reason does he have to hang out on an abandoned railroad anyway? Definitely not something you’re up for waiting around to find out.

He actually laughs. “You’re a feisty one, huh, sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, trying to find a way to climb back out the way you came in.

“You really are a handful, huh.” The raven sighs, lowering his cigarette and stuffing his other hand in his pocket. “I guess that is to be expected.”

“Excuse me?” your voice is higher in pitch as your anxiety reaches uncharted levels. What the fuck is this guy going on about?

“Tsk so ungrateful.” He shakes his head as the smoke clears and you realize that he has a fucking mullet while he snubs the cigarette under his boot.

Before you can reply, he’s tilting his head to the side, long strands of hair following the movement. A wishful-like smile forms on his lips. “Tell me, sweetheart.” His voice carries through the still air. He lifts up his gloved hand to reveal a gold coin. “Heads,” he flips it around, “or tails?”

You narrow your eyes, scrutinizing him for a moment. He does nothing but keep those deep brown eyes focused on you. You shrug after a while. Oh, what the hell. You’re homeless, jobless, and technically still on the run from your stepfather’s debt. You’ll play his little game; it’s not like you have anything else better to do. “Tails,” you decide, crossing your arms and lifting your chin only to freeze. A lone, echoing whistle fills the air of the abandoned railroad - or well, what you thought was abandoned.

The ground starts to shake under your feet, stray pieces of gravel and chunks of concrete jumping up like water bubbling in a pot. You start to make your way over to the man continuing to rest against the pillar without a care in the world, moving faster as the train’s whistle drowns out your voice.

He flicks the coin into the air and nonchalantly turns his head towards the train. The coin plummets to the ground, landing right in the middle of the train track. You watch in horror while he steps out to pick up the coin, briefly struggling to get it in his grip. You scream for him to move, the train close enough to cast his shadow in its light. Its tires screech in protest as if the driver has noticed you standing in the tracks-

You cover your ears and turn away, pressing yourself against the nearest pillar. The volume of the train going past nearly deafens you. Its high speed and aged machinery croaking loudly while the tracks quiver under its weight. You can do nothing but cling onto that cold, stone wall until it leaves just as suddenly as it came.

You wait until you can’t hear the train anymore before stepping back, nearly falling onto the ground in a heap. For a moment, you wonder why the tracks are still trembling until you realize it’s you that is shaking like a leaf, your knees buckling under the weight of your own emotions. Tears brim your eyes, stinging them painfully when you turn around. The wintry cold wind continues to be unmerciful while you look all over the place, trying to spot his head of black hair against your better judgment.

Something shiny on the other side of the railroad catches your eye. You slowly make your way over to it, stumbling along the way. The cold air brushes against the fresh, open wounds on your elbows, the sleeves of your old denim jacket torn in your haste to run for cover. You barely plant down your hands on the ledge in time to catch yourself before you fall, your ankle throbbing painfully under your unsupported weight. Your lips tremble, emotions from the tiring day hitting you all at once when your eyes spot the shiny object again. You reach for it, pulling it closer while roughly rubbing the blur from your eyes. Your eyes widen as the metal rests in the palm of your hand.

His gold coin; the face of a deer on one side and its rear end on the other. That isn’t why fear grips at your heart for the fourth time tonight, however. No.

It’s the fact that the coin had landed on Heads.

“That’ll be $9.65, ma’am.”

“Alright,” you mumble distractedly, dragging your eyes away from the rainy view of the backseat window. You open up your purse, searching and digging around for your wallet. Come on… The last thing you need right now is bad luck.

Earlier this week you had managed to land yourself an apartment and a new job in a local grocery store. It’s a downgrade from the office position you once had, but beggars can’t be choosers. You’re just grateful that someone took you in after weeks spent going door to door with a stack of your resume in hand. You’ve gotten so many paper cuts over the last two weeks alone that you have sworn to get a laptop as soon as you have enough money saved up.

When you do pull out your wallet, it feels lighter than it should be between your fingertips. You flip it open in a hurry, mindful of the driver tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

Right before you stepped into the back of the cab, a group of children had approached you. Anyone from miles away could tell that they didn’t come from a “well-off” home, with their tattered clothes and smudge-covered faces. They pleaded for your help, for a few dollars to buy themselves food to get through the night. You caved in. You couldn’t just walk away after hearing their cries and seeing them clutch their growling stomachs. Their little eyes had lit up when you pulled out your wallet, counting enough notes for each of them to be able to afford their own meal. If only you had paid more attention when all three of them decided to wrap their arms around you in a hug…

“Ah…” you smile nervously, looking up at the irritated driver with a sheepish expression on your face. “I… I seem to have left my wallet at home - can I run and get it?” you propose, noticing the annoyance rise on his aged face.

“No.”

“It’s right around the corner-”

The old man shakes his head, putting the car back into drive. Before you can say a word, he does an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street, tires squealing in protest as you slide onto the sidewalk for a few seconds. He roughly spins the wheel in the opposite direction to get off of the patch of black ice and zooms back down the way you came. Taking shortcuts down roads you’ve never seen before until you reach a bridge that crosses a railroad and the beginning of a highway.

“Get out.”

“I-” you protest, holding onto your seatbelt for dear life. What the fuck? I’ve never been on this side of town before! “You-”

He glares at you from the rearview mirror, spitting a mouthful of tobacco into his empty beer can. “Beat it.”

You want to stand your ground, demand that he at least drop you off closer to a populated area, but something in his beady eyes dares you to utter a single word. So you bite your tongue, and climb out of the cab, already shivering from the cold wind. The old man doesn’t even wait for you to step onto the sidewalk before he revs the engine, making another illegal U-turn to speed off back the way he came.

“Asshole!” you scream after him, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. You realize too late that you have forgotten your winter coat in the back of the cab. Now standing at the side of a silent underpass, barely sheltered from the heavy rain, you really are starting to think that the universe has just decided for your luck to run out.

“Fucking dick,” you mutter, eyes stinging from your tears and the cold. Great. Your phone is dead, you’re God knows where, and your fingertips are going numb. What a perfect way to end the week. So much for a new lease on life.

After a while, you start to grow weary of the quiet underpass. No one has driven past you in the last ten minutes, car or train. Did he… drop me off at an abandoned road? You shiver at the thought, and even more so when you remember what happened to you a month ago.

Somehow, between those thirty sleepless nights and bleary mornings, you haven’t forgotten that man you met on those train tracks. Not even for a second. His brown eyes plague your thoughts, his raspy voice takes over your dreams. Sometimes you even swear you see him around town, hanging out in the shadows that reflect his mysterious aura so well-

“Achoo!” your nose and eyes burn as one. “Shit.” You hiss before letting out a sigh. There’s no use standing here like an idiot, you need to find the nearest payphone to use with the coins you keep stashed in your shirt pocket-

Coins.

You instinctively reach down inside of your shirt, flinching at the cold that touches your skin. The familiar piece of metal tucked safely next to your heart calms you down a little. It’s funny how a reminder of such a fear-inducing situation helps you find your peace.

You’ve tried to throw away that damn coin multiple times: on the train tracks, over a bridge, inside a dumpster… But every single time, you curled your fist around it as if it was some sacred trinket of a past lover. An object that you had to keep. For some reason, the thought of tossing it away makes your chest ache. It would be so much easier if it wasn’t so pretty…

A bone-chilling breeze washes over you, mercilessly freezing your exposed skin. Your teeth chatter; you quickly pull your hand out of your bra. Whatever. You need to get out of here. You can reminisce about your encounter with that infuriating stranger when you’re not becoming an icicle.

Patches of ice cling onto the sidewalk, not making your life any easier. Your choice of wearing converses today has left you in the hands of fate - the fate of slipping and sliding with every other step you take. Inconvenience or not, you’re just glad you still have shoes. Even if you have to hold onto the stone walls for support.

“Well, well, well,” a voice echoes throughout the underpass.

You lose your footing, nearly falling face-first on the ground if it wasn’t for a nearby trash can. You whip your head around, staring at the person behind you with wide eyes. Your heart stops dead in its tracks. Oh no.

It’s a fucking biker, seated on top of a brand new motorcycle. A brand of the vehicle that you have no idea how to pronounce, but can recognize anywhere thanks to the lousy friends of your stepfather. Have they found you? Are you going to have to face those loan sharks again? You can’t help but tremble while watching the biker take off their helmet as the engine continues to purr. How the hell you didn’t hear it, you have no idea. All you know is that their all-black, leather outfit is hella intimidating...

until you see a mullet.

He slowly raises his head and those familiar, droopy brown eyes greet you from under the veil of heavy rain. “Fancy seeing you here, darling.”

Your heart skips a beat. Oh my god, he’s alive! “Oh…” you mumble dryly, “you’re alive.”

“That I am.” He raises a brow, a mischievous grin tugging on his lips. “It takes more than that to kill me, sweetheart.”

Yeah… right. You roll your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Business meeting.” He looks you over for a moment. “You?”

“Minding my business,” you lean against the trash can, trying to come off as nonchalant as possible. Just because you are in a dire situation doesn’t mean you’ll let him know about it.

“‘Minding my business,’ she says,” he humors, raising another brow. “You don’t look too comfortable doing that out here.”

His words remind you of the lack of your coat. You don’t respond to prevent your teeth from chattering and giving yourself away, wrapping your sweater tighter around you.

His eyes narrow, “what are you doing on this side of town, darling?” his words are sugar-sweet, the expression on his face is not.

“Nothing,” you quip.

He pulls something shiny out of his jacket, something much bigger than a coin. “You might want to start talking, sweetheart.” His lips curl up in warning, combat knife in full view.

“I-” you gasp, staring horrified at the red stains clinging to the silver metal. “I got put out, okay?!” you yell, backing away from his murderous glare. “I-I got robbed by a group of fucking kids earlier and my cab put me out…” Just repeating what happened to you less than an hour ago has your eyes filling up with tears all over again. “God...” you hide your face in your hands, “God I’m so stupid.”

“Stupid isn’t the term I’d use,” he murmurs, carrying on despite your cries, “more like gullible.”

You stop at once, peeking at him from between your numb fingers. “Wow,” you sniff, not sure if you’re more upset at him or yourself, “how comforting of you.”

He looks into your eyes for a while. “Get on,” he commands, gesturing towards the back of the motorcycle with his chin.

“And what makes you think I’d go anywhere with you?” you can’t help but scoff, wrapping your arms around yourself. Shivering involuntarily from the drops of rain meeting your skin in the bitter wind.

“You have two options, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice, his tone filled with barely-concealed annoyance. “Either let me take you home or freeze your ass off,” he raises a brow. “Your call.”

You glare at him, warily eyeing his motorcycle. You’d have to cling onto him if you didn’t want to fly off of his bike the moment he drives off, and that’s not something you particularly want to do. But that versus the likelihood of you getting frostbite…

“Take me straight home,” you demand, stepping closer to him, the tips of your hair getting wet from the rain. “I mean it.”

The raven slowly drags his eyes to meet yours, looking at you with an emotion you can’t quite identify. He wordlessly lifts up his helmet and places it on your head, surrounding you in the smell of smoke with a hint of vanilla. You bite your lip to refrain yourself from mentioning how bad smoking is; now is not the time for a life lecture. But the way his eyes drop down as if he can see your lips through the helmet’s dark tint and the flickering streetlight overhead has you feeling a lot less cold than you did two minutes ago...

“Come on,” his breath fogs up your view of him, reminding you of the first time you met while he urges you to climb on. You glare at the back of the motorcycle. It’s not just the fact that it’s his bike that has you apprehensive, it's the fact that you have never been anywhere near a motorcycle in your life. Yeah, you’ve seen them around town. Yes, you hear about biker gangs all the time - you just never dared to step foot near one of the vehicles your mother had deemed the most dangerous on the road, let alone climb on the back of one. How the hell do you mount this thing? It’s way too complex for your cold and exhausted brain right now.

After a few failed attempts to climb on - your shoes having no chance of gripping onto its rain-covered surface, the man gives a loud, suffering sigh. He throws his head back, face pinched up in utter annoyance. For once you feel bad about giving him a hard time. You’re at your wits end over here; it’s not like you are doing it on purpose!

His eyes snap open when you slip one more time, and before you can blink, his hands are on your waist, pulling you up onto the seat as if you weigh nothing.

“Hold on tight if you don’t want to fall,” he mutters lowly, ignoring your gasp. He removes his hands as soon as you are settled. You carefully wrap your arms around him, feeling your face heat up from the proximity. Something rough brushes against your chin. You lean back a little, blinking at the letter stitched onto the back of his leather jacket. “B?” you ask, tracing it with your finger.

He tenses up for a moment, seemingly surprised by your question. “Baekhyun,” he clears his throat, gripping onto the handlebars.

“Oh,” you smile, “good. I thought it was for Bernard.”

You feel more than hear the rumble of laughter in his chest when he revs up the engine, speeding away from the underpass.

You haven’t seen Baekhyun since that night. For someone who meets you in the most random of places, he sure isn’t easy to find. Maybe that’s all he is… All he’ll ever be. Someone you meet on late nights in the middle of dangerous situations. Wondering when the hell he showed up and how long before he leaves…

A loud chink brings you back to the present, you quickly catch the spinning gold coin before it can fall to the floor. The familiarity of its weight in your hand confirms the reason for your stray thoughts even further.

You have a confession to make, something long overdue: a fact that you need to accept…

How you feel about Baekhyun.

You’re not stupid - you’re hella dumb in some parts of life, yes, but you’re not purely idiotic. You know you have the tiniest crush on him, and you know what that means. Your feelings are one-sided, your emotions are a mess. You’re that good girl slash damsel in distress falling for her mysterious, bad boy savior…

How clique, but can you help it, really? When he’s all lean muscle, broad stature, and has brown eyes you want to hide from yet fall into at the same time?

Baekhyun is bad, like the cigarettes he smokes, but you know he’s more than what meets the eye. At first glance, he’s intimidating, daring you to approach him. But if you stick around long enough, you’ll see his softer side. Still rough around the edges, but he isn’t completely heartless. And the final blow, the last straw that has you in this particular predicament…

Being in his presence is more addictive than the nicotine in his favorite brand of cigarettes.

He’s mysterious, charming despite you rejecting him every time, and downright gorgeous to look at. With his brown eyes, button nose, slightly chapped lips, sharp jawline, and that neck. God, that long, slender neck.

-Everything that I don’t need.

You sigh, leaning your head back against your leather seat. There’s a lot of things that you don’t need, but what you do need is a drink.

With that in mind, you get up to make your way to the bar. You saw it on your way inside of the train, and now you plan to use it. Fully intending to wash away all your stray thoughts of that mullet man while on your way to a pharmacy across town. Not your best idea to go get multi-vitamins - since the store you work at has run out - but anything is better than spending another day daydreaming about dark brown eyes and a man you cannot have...

until you trip in the middle of the aisle.

A walking cane owned by an oblivious elderly lady is the only one to blame for you falling to your demise, but to make matters even worse, the train’s stewardess has returned, with a tray full of drinks. Hot drinks. Delicious coco-filled beverages meant to help passengers shake off the hands of the bitter cold beyond the fogged-up windows.

-Basically, you are fucked.

Your fall seems to happen in slow motion, seconds dragging by as you come face to face with that tray full of glasses heading your way. You close your eyes, bracing for the scorching hot liquid to burn your skin…

-only to be yanked right out of the stewardess’ path.

You gasp, landing onto someone’s lap in a heap. You brace your hands against their chest, snapping your head up, eyes widening at the familiar man in front of you. “B-Baekhyun?!”

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmurs, lips curling up into a lopsided smile that knocks the wind out of you.

“I…” you don’t know what to say, you can only stare at him, blinking in disbelief. He looks just as good as he did the other day, except this time you can appreciate his leather outfit in proper lighting. The smooth material hangs onto his shoulders for dear life, most likely pushed further down from you abruptly landing on his lap. His white t-shirt is a little wrinkled, with a few rips and tears, as if snagged on the edge of something during a hasty getaway. His leather pants are cool to the touch when your hand lands on his thigh, still struggling to get up from his lap. Why hasn’t that woman moved her cane? Can’t she see that you’re struggling here through those wide-rimmed glasses of hers?!

“What do you say?” Baekhyun perks up after a while, raising a brow.

“Huh?” you blink at him, finally managing to get off of his lap and settle beside him in the seat. Drink be damned, you need to sit down for this.

Baekhyun continues to look at you with those brown eyes, pointedly arching his other brow. Your heart is still in your throat and you’re growing more frustrated by the minute. What the hell is up with him? It’s not like he saved you or some-

Your eyes widen, not even the cold air drafting from the window can cool the warmth growing on your cheeks. “T-thank you,” you cough, looking away from him. His smug ass, you want to wipe that smirk right off his handsome face.

“You kept it,” he mentions out of nowhere, prompting you to look back at him.

It’s your turn to raise a brow at the hint of surprise on his face, “what?”

Baekhyun opens his hand, revealing a coin in his palm - a coin you know all-too-well after these past two months. “Bambi,” he breathes, smiling so softly when he looks back up at you that you have to do a double-take.

“Listen, Baekhyun.” You lean closer to him, keeping your voice low. Something tells you he wouldn’t appreciate it if the whole train knew his name - then again, he could have made it up. But you aren’t up for facing the consequences if it is his name, so you make sure the conversation stays between you and him. “This…” you pause, making hand gestures between you two. “Whatever ‘this’ is,” you look him in the eye. “I’m done with it.”

“What?” he frowns, brows furrowed.

“I’m tired of playing games with you, Baekhyun,” you explain. “You always show up when I need help, flirt with me, and the minute I ask you anything, you’re gone,” you snap your fingers, “like that.”

“Some things are better left unsaid, little fawn,” he utters lowly, irritation swirling in his dark orbs. “Knowing too much can and will get you hurt.”

“I’m a big girl,” you scoff, lips curling up into a mocking smile. “Admit it, you’re scared I’ll find out that you’re all bark and no bite.” You don’t know what possessed you to be so brave, but you regret it the moment you look into Baekhyun’s eyes.

“Oh?” he raises a brow, the hard expression on his face dares you to utter another word. “You’re a big girl, huh?” you can only put your hand on his chest as a feeble attempt to push him away when he leans closer, his minty breath fanning over your face. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he voices lowers to a lifeless monotone that you never wanted to hear from him, “how much money do you think it took to keep those loan sharks from selling your ass out on the streets?”

You gasp, appalled beyond belief, feeling tears sting at your eyes despite your wishes to save face. It all makes sense... the shootout, the chasing, the railroad, the underpass… Baekhyun is everything you thought he’d be, and everything you wish he wasn’t. He’s one of them. The gangs partaking in bloodbaths to claim ownership over your worthless town. And by what happened all those months ago… he’s not just one of them, he’s a ringleader.

“I-I’m done,” your voice wavers. You bow your head, crying or not, you won’t let him see you like this. Not again. Not over something so stupid and so damn obvious you could kick yourself over it. “I’m done, Baekhyun. Thank you for all the help you’ve given me, but I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

“What do you want?” he asks. He asks as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

You sniff, throwing the last of your dignity out the window when your voice cracks. “I want to be left alone.”

“What if that isn’t what I want?” he tucks a finger under your chin, coaxing you to lift your head and meet his brown eyes that express more than words ever could. “What if I don’t want to leave you alone?”

“Stop playing with me,” you pull away, you can’t even bear to face him now. Or listen to that damn chink of the coin he keeps tossing in his palm.

“One more,” he urges you to look at him again. “Heads, or tails.”

“Baek-”

“If you win,” he talks over you, “I’ll leave you alone. If you lose…” he trails off, looking you dead in the eye, his voice no louder than a whisper, “I won’t.”

“Fuck you,” you sniff, shaking your head, pressing yourself against the cold window. “Your games have been rigged since day one.” You look out as the wintry landscape passes you by, your stomach turning when you notice the frozen lake below the train tracks. “Why do you do this?” you can’t help but ask. “Huh? Why do you do it? What reason do you have for this?”

Baekhyun sighs loudly, closing his eyes and holding his head in his hand. “Because you’re my favorite.”

“What?” you sit up at once. If you were a porcupine, all your needles would have launched into his ass by now. What did he mean by that? Are you some… side piece? His certain flavor of the week? Are you competing with others in some race that you didn’t even know you were in?!

Baekhyun just shakes his head, alarming you when he gets up. “Wait, Baekhyun-” you hurry after him, nearly falling over again in your haste. Last time you checked, the next stop for the train was in less than ten minutes, and something tells you that if you don’t do something now, you’ll never see him again.

He heads over to the bar you wanted to go to earlier, ordering what looks like Bourbon, and you swear you see a golden deer head attached to the center of the glass.

“Baekhyun…” you tug on his sleeve, trying to get his attention while he scrutinizes the drink in his glass. “About what you said, what-”

“That’s a nice coin you got there.” The bartender chimes in, drying a wine glass in his hand, eyeing the gold coin sitting idly on the counter. “Mind if I give it a go?”

“Be my guest,” Baekhyun mutters, rolling the drink in his hand.

“Heads,” the bartender grins, flicking it over, “or tails?”

Baekhyun looks over at you, resting his arm on the counter. “Heads.”

You stare right back at him; you know how this goes. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about flipping a coin, the losing side is always… “Tails.”

The bartender hums, grinning while the coin is in mid-air. He covers it with his hand before you can see, waiting a few moments for effect. When he finally uncovers the coin, your jaw practically drops to the floor:

Tails.

Baekhyun’s nostrils flare and he nods, leaving a tip just as an announcement of the next train stop plays overhead. He gets up and walks to collect his fedora from a coat rack without saying a word.

“Wait-” you look between him and the bartender before taking back the coin, skidding your bar stool loudly across the floor while standing up to follow him. “Baekhyun, wait!” He walks ahead of you with determined strides - determined not to give you the time of day, as he swore he would. You have to double your speed to catch up to him when he turns the corner to exit the train.

“Baek- excuse me,” you bump into various passengers, pushing past them. No one else seems to be in a hurry to step off of the train, and you have a raven head man to find before he disappears on you.

It doesn’t quite hit you until you’ve stepped off the train, how your roles have reversed. For once, you’re not the one being chased. For once, you’re willingly - willingly seeking him out. Chasing after him in your yellow trench coat that is instantly drenched under the merciless rain.

“Baekhyun!” you scream for him in the middle of the icy, deserted streets. You don’t care anymore about what he does, who he is. You just need to find him.

Thunder booms overhead, the world around you brightening up with streaks of lightning scattered across the sky, and for one time - for one last time, you swear his name up to the heavens.

“Good for nothing asshole wearing all black during a mother fucking thunder-”

Someone yanks you into an alleyway, and for once, there isn’t an ounce of fear or uncertainty in your heart.

You lift your head up to look at him as he tucks your wet hair behind your ear, leaning down to capture your blue lips in a chapped kiss that warms you up from the inside out.

Baekhyun has been coming around more often. He still is shit at picking you up from your place, but he walks you home from work - more often than not when you don’t know it's him and you feel watched for the entire journey home. He gets off on keeping you on your toes and you just let him get away with it because it’s him.

Tonight is different, however - hell, you’d even say it's special because tonight, oh tonight, Baekhyun wants to take you out. On a date.

A date on a train you don’t frequently ride, but you won’t question it. You don’t bore him with your daily endeavors and he doesn’t tell you his body count from the previous evening. If this is the only functioning dynamic you will have between you, you’ll take all you can get.

“Baekhyun~”

“You ready?” his voice rings through your phone, tickling your ear in the most pleasant of ways.

“Almost,” you muse, biting back a smile while wedging your phone between your ear and shoulder to slip on your low-platform heels. Rain, sleet, or snow, you’re on a mission tonight, and that mission is… well, you can take a guess. “Are you here?”

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, but you hear a knock at your door. You smile, adding final touches to your makeup before hanging up the phone. With your clutch in hand, umbrella hanging from your finger, and a dress way too short for the middle of winter, you are ready to go.

“Coming, coming!” you yell at the impatient knocking at your door. You’re flattered by the enthusiasm, but your neighbor just put her newborn to sleep and you know what glare you’ll receive in the morning for ruining the little sleep she could get. You unlock the deadbolt and pull the door open to reveal a sharply dressed Baekhyun. The way he looks in a suit will never fail to have butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Hi,” you breathe, leaning against the doorframe for support.

Baekhyun chuckles, raising a brow with a smirk. “Hey, baby.”

Baby.

You’re either going to faint or cry, so you choose neither, closing the door behind you to be by his side instead. “Are we going by motorcycle today?” you inquire, a little too late to change anything if you must admit. Maybe you should have put shorts on underneath your dress...

Thankfully, Baekhyun shakes his head. “I rented a car.”

“Rented?” you arch a brow, “you didn’t hotwire some poor soul’s BMW, did you?”

“A Range Rover,” he mumbles.

Your neck cracks when you snap your head around to look at him. “Range Rover?!”

Baekhyun only smiles, encouraging you to link your arm with his.

It doesn’t take long to reach your destination, between the fast car and Baekhyun’s, (illegal,) driving skills, you make it to the train station in record time, and, thankfully, in one piece.

“Whoa…” you blink, peeking from under your umbrella, “is that a steam engine?”

Baekhyun nods, readjusting his fedora before closing the passenger door for you.

“I’ve only seen those from far away…” you continue, staring at the coal-filled train with astonishment. “Why are we riding on it, though? We could have taken another random train.”

Baekhyun merely hums at your endless chatter - helpless on your part. Your skin is buzzing from being near him and you’ve just arrived!

Okay, okay. Less talk, more walk. Be cool-

Anddd you slip on the icy asphalt.

“You know,” Baekhyun murmurs, distracting you from your own embarrassment. “You don’t have to fall to be in my arms, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that infamous smirk. “All you had to do was ask.”

You groan so loud you turn heads while grabbing his hand and power-walking over to the line waiting for the train. God, why does he have to be so infuriating and sexy at the same time? It’s making your head spin.

You move up the line without a hitch, thankful that it doesn’t take too long to get inside of the train once it arrives. The sooner you get out of the chilling rain, the better. You climb on board, being greeted by decorative picture frames and lively chatter within the homey cabin. To your surprise, however, Baekhyun gestures to the stewardess upfront before leading you away from everyone else to a door at the very back.

“Baekhyun..? Is this okay?” you whisper, looking around worriedly. It’s not that you don’t trust him, you just don’t want one of his mischievous schemes getting you kicked out again, or worse.

He stops in a dark corner of a cabin filled with boxes to press you against the wall, pulling you into a kiss that makes you forget everything else entirely. “Do you trust me?” he holds your face in his hands, looking into your eyes. The shadow casting over his face from his fedora adds onto that mysterious flare that riles you up all over again.

You can only nod, gulping a little when he shoots you one of those rare, soft smiles before leading you further into the back of the train. Soon you arrive at another cabin, filled with dining booths and pretty string chandeliers like the one towards the front of the train.

“Whoa…” You look around, in awe of the simple yet beautiful touches of small knick-knacks and antiques around the room.

“What do you think?” you feel Baekhyun behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s so…” you’re at a loss for words; it’s hard to describe how wholesome and warm it makes you feel, “pretty.”

“Mm.” His nose brushes over your neck, making you shiver, “like you.”

You blush all the way up to your ears.

Baekhyun takes a seat, sitting with his back facing the front of the train to your surprise. You’d think they’d teach mafia guys not to sit with their back exposed or something. You move to sit across from him only to feel his hand wrap around your wrist, wordlessly beckoning you with his brown eyes to sit next to him. And who are you to deny?

“This place is really nice,” you run your hands over the tabletop, marveling at how crisp and clean the table mat is, “where did you find it?”

“Asked around,” he shrugs, folding his arms behind his head.

“Oh,” you leave the conversation at that, having been around him long enough to recognize when you’re stepping into uncharted territories. The last thing you want to do is ruin the time you and Baekhyun spend together - especially when it’s your ‘first date.’ You tuck your hands between your thighs, sticking to your side of the booth. Even after three months of meeting him and a few weeks of getting to know him, being in close proximity with Baekhyun hasn’t gotten easier. Blame your bashfulness on the indifferent aura constantly around his broad form.

“Good evening!” someone perks up out of nowhere, making you jump. You turn around, looking wide-eyed at the young man stepping through the door. His name tag on the front of his uniform and the notepad in his hand calms you down a little, but your heart is still in your throat. Geez, you inwardly roll your eyes - at yourself or Baekhyun, no one really knows. Probably both.

Baekhyun shifts next to you and you freeze. Thanks to your panic, your body is completely pressed against his. Well shit... You need to do something - would it be rude if you moved away? The warmth of his body is too much to handle, your face will burst into flames at this rate.

“What can I get you today?” the waiter asks you with big eyes, clicking open his pen. The way he looks at you doesn’t help your situation at all.

Baekhyun turns to you, raising a brow. Something about the way his jaw clenches comes off as a warning to you.

“A-ah!” you smile, hurrying to pick up one of the menus you failed to notice earlier. You scan your eyes over the pages quickly but carefully, mindful of the other two pairs of eyes set on you. Um... can you look away? Staring into the side of your face won’t make you decide faster, in fact, it makes you have to reread the same page again. Do they have nothing else better to do?!

Finally! you set the menu down, feeling like you’ve struck gold when you find your favorite drink and meal. “I’ll have this with extra fries, please.” Hopefully, the waiter will leave soon, there’s only so much staring you can take before you sweat out your hair. The quicker you order, the faster he’ll leave.

“No problem!” the waiter smiles, not even looking down while scribbling your order onto his notepad. “Anything else?”

“I’ll have what she’s having.” Baekhyun joins in, his voice deeper than usual.

“Y-yes, sir.” You can only imagine the look he’s giving the poor waiter until a cold hand lands on your inner thigh. You gasp, banging your knee on the table.

“Are you okay, Miss?” the waiter focuses on you again, pen not even pressed to his paper.

“I-I’m good!” you reassure, trying to play it off as best you can as if Baekhyun’s wandering hand isn’t sliding up your thigh. “Just slipped,” you lie, shooting him a warning look. He only grins in reply, biting his lip and playing with the edge of your underwear.

“Okay,” the waiter glances down at his notepad and looks back at you with a sheepish expression, “um let me repeat what I have to make sure I got everything right.”

Baekhyun grunts in reply, slowly rubbing your folds through your underwear.

Mother fucker. You clench your fists, holding onto the bottom of your dress, trying to be discreet while shooing his hand away. You breathe heavily when he presses his palm flat against you, having to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a moan.

The waiter repeats your order, having to fix it three times. Is he just having a bad day or are you having a bad life because you are not keeping it together with Baekhyun’s fingers slipping under the hem of your panties. Your wet core shows no resistance to his slender fingers sliding inside of you. You bite back a gasp, gripping his thigh as he lightly taps your clit. The rumble in his chest makes your cheeks flush; you’re struggling to keep quiet over here and he’s getting off on it.

“Anything else?” the poor waiter asks, oblivious to what’s happening underneath the very booth you’re sitting at.

Baekhyun turns to you then, all nonchalant as if he isn’t knuckle-deep inside your pussy. “Anything else, baby?”

Baby. Yep. You know you’re in deep shit.

“N-” it takes all your willpower not to moan when he crooks up his fingers just right, you don’t even want to imagine the expression that’s on your face right now. “N-no, that will be all.”

Baekhyun flashes another one of those rare little smiles your way while the waiter departs from your secluded cabin, and you can’t help but beam back at him, proud to have evoked such emotion out of him - until your lips tremble, thighs shaking under the work of his merciless fingers. You’re so close you can taste it, or maybe that’s just the tears slipping out the corner of your eyes.

Baekhyun doesn’t stop when your nails dig into his thigh, in fact, he goes even faster, egged on by how hard you’re trying not to make a sound. The slick noises of his digits driving into your weeping cunt are enough to echo around the confined room, pushing you closer to the edge. Just as you’re there, stomach coiled tight, back arched like a broken bedspring, he fucking pulls his fingers out.

You turn to him with tears in your eyes as your high vanishes quicker than an extinguished flame, ready to give him a piece of your mind. The words die on your lips when you notice him holding his dick in his hands, using your slick to tease around his tip.

“What do you say?” his voice comes out husky, scorching in lust while looking at you with his dark brown eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, flushing all over again at the way he looks at you.

Baekhyun smirks devilishly, pausing in stroking his lubricated cock. Then, he spreads his legs, his dress pants straining against his sturdy thighs. “Come show me how thankful you are.”

You don’t know how you do it, but somehow you manage to climb under the booth with the little space you have in between the chair and the table, shuffling closer to Baekhyun’s waiting cock on your aching knees. You’ve only been on the cold, hardwood floor for a few moments and you already know you’ll have matching bruises on your knees for days, but you don’t mind. Not for him.

You pause in the realization that this is the first time you’ve seen his cock, and damn is it pretty. Why does he have to be perfect all over and ruin every other man for you? Who gave him the right? The sting on your scalp brings you back to the task at hand, Baekhyun’s fingers brushing your hair out of the way so he can see when his cock enters your mouth. It hurts like a bitch, and yet… It ignites the fire between your legs all over again. Especially when he moans at the first touch of your tongue swirling around his tip, tightening his grip on your hair. You could get drunk off of his moans - you could get drunk off of him period.

Praises fall from Baekhyun’s lips as you lower your mouth onto his shaft, tears brimming your eyes when he hits the back of your throat. But you push yourself onward; you take a deep breath and relax your jaw to cram the rest of his cock in until his fine hairs tickle your nose.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun groans, jerking his hips, aiding you in fitting that last little bit of his cock down your throat. He holds you there for a while, until you choke, throat constricting around his length.

“Good girl,” he whispers, tracing the bulge in your throat with his fingertips. “Fuck, such a good girl.” He groans. “My perfect little cock slut.”

You preen under his praise, pulling back for a much-needed breath when he releases you. The little moan he lets out when you flick your tongue over his slit just makes you hungry for more - hungry for him; his eyes, moans, cock, and everything that makes him, him. You bob your head faster, lathering the prominent vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. His breathy gasps and low grunts have you in a frenzy. No matter how much your throat burns and eyes well up with tears, you’re on a mission to give him the best suck of his life.

Baekhyun is in heaven by how loud he’s getting, fucking further into your throat. He swears under his breath when you lock eyes with him. “Fucking perfect,” he breathes, swiping under your eye with his thumb.

You moan, noting how his movements falter, hips jerking erratically and cock throbbing on the back of your tongue. The thought of him finishing in your mouth turns you on more than you’d like to admit, and the thought of him shoving it down your throat…

Suddenly, Baekhyun’s grip on your hair turns brutal, bringing tears to your eyes when he yanks your head back. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, another voice fills the empty cabin.

“Here are your drinks!” the waiter walks up to the booth, the tips of his shoe inches away from your hidden form under the table. “Sorry for the wait.”

Feeling brave, you lean forward, lapping at the head of Baekhyun’s cock.

“It’s fine.” He gruffs, tapping his fingers on the table and clearing his throat. You hear his breath hitch when you take him in deep again; his thighs tense up under your wandering hands. Seeing him like this makes you smirk around his dick in your mouth, tracing the vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. He’s twitching more and more in your mouth by the minute.

“Your order will be out shortly.”

Before the waiter can take a step back, Baekhyun’s gripping your hair once again, shoving you so far down his cock that your nose touches his pelvis. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out why; the spasms on your tongue are immediate. He fills up your throat with his cum, bringing tears to your eyes from the endless spurts of his release. You try your best to not choke and give yourself away.

“Thank you,” he says softly; the breathy tone of his voice has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, swallowing every last drop he has to offer. You wait until you hear the door close behind the waiter before pulling off of him, gasping for air; you already know your throat is going to be fucked in the morning, and not by his cock.

Baekhyun detangles his fingers from your hair, smoothing it down in a gentle manner that leaves your heart and pussy quivering as one. “Come here.” He grunts, urging you out from under the table.

You crawl out on shaky hands and knees, looking up at him only to gasp, clutching onto his arms when he pulls you off of the floor, “what-”

Baekhyun’s lips crash to yours. “You.” He hisses, gripping your waist and sitting you on top of the table. “You little minx.”

You can’t help but giggle, pointedly licking your lips while he wraps your legs around his waist. His unwavering gaze makes you ache between your legs and goosebumps cover your skin. “What about it?” you murmur, tugging him closer by his tie.

Baekhyun’s eyes are like two deep pools of mahogany wood, swirling with excitement and lust. He presses his index and middle fingers to your lips, eyes blazing in heat when you don’t even hesitate to take them into your mouth. A chuckle falls from his kiss-swollen lips. “Let’s see how fast that pussy can come before the waiter gets back.”

A hint of worry sparks in your chest, making your breath hitch, blinking wide-eyed at him. Are you really about to get dicked down in public? On a train nonetheless? Where any passenger or employee could walk in at any moment? You’re left shocked by how wound up the thought makes you; the possibility of someone finding you spread out for Baekhyun, too blissed out in pleasure to care... You barely held it together with his fingers inside of you earlier, you can only imagine what that cock can really do.

Before you can utter a word, he’s yanking your underwear out of the way, guiding his cock into your weeping core. The stretch of his thick cock has your jaw dropping, hands gripping the edge of the table when he slams inside of you. Baekhyun doesn’t even give you a moment to adjust, he goes straight for fucking your brains out.

It takes all your might to keep quiet. You hold onto the table for dear life, sucking on his fingers to muffle your moans, and Baekhyun isn’t having any of it.

“Let me hear you.” He whispers, spreading his fingers to keep your mouth open. You’re in no position to deny him with the way he’s pounding into your cunt - as if you’d ever want to. Anything he wants, he gets. Baekhyun is taking you to the seventh heaven with every thrust and swirl of his hips, and you have no complaints on how he’ll get you there.

The squelch of your arousal coating his cock, loud creaks of the table, and his balls slapping against your ass fills the room with the filthy sounds of sex, bringing you to a dangerous peak. Being denied an orgasm earlier has left you way too high strung to fight against the wave about to wash over you. You try not to bite down on his fingers while feeling the pressure build in your stomach.

“You might want to come, sweetheart.” Baekhyun pipes up in a humorous tone, tightening his grip on your hips. “Your loverboy is coming.”

Your eyes snap open, you don’t even remember when you closed them as you frantically look around, craning your neck to see the silhouette of someone approaching the door to your cabin. Shit. Arousal and fear grip your heart all in one. You’re tempted to just tell Baekhyun to stop to save yourself the embarrass-

“Come on,” he whispers, slipping his fingers from your mouth to slide his hand down between your legs. “Don’t be shy.”

You bite on your lip hard enough to bleed while meeting his eyes, clenching around him when he lifts your hips to slam into that spot that has your mouth falling open.

“That’s it.” He grunts, rubbing vigorously on your clit. The little smirk on his face and mischievous glint in his eyes push you further over the edge. “Come for me, slut. Drench this cock for everyone to see.”

You start to say something - to tell him to stop or keep going, you have no idea. All you know is that one minute you’re watching the waiter open the door, and in the next, the train skids to an abrupt halt. Tires squealing in protest while the coil in your stomach unravels faster than Baekhyun flickering open his lighter to ignite a cigarette.

Stars burst behind your eyelids, heightened by Baekhyun continuing with his earth-shattering pace. All you can hear is the ringing in your ears when your thighs slam shut, trembling as you dig your heels into his lower back. He doesn’t stop for a second to let you cool down when you reach the tail-end of your climax.

“What do you say?” he pants, hovering his thumb over your clit. You catch a glimpse of his wet hair sticking to his forehead under the shadow of his fedora while the shrill screams of the other passengers on the train reach your ears.

“T-” you have no idea how he expects you to be able to talk much less think under the works of his unrelenting hips. Just when you think it can’t get even worse, (or better, as you hate to admit,) he’s back to roughly rubbing your clit. “T-Thank you,” you choke out, arching your back. The force of the pressure building in your stomach this time is stronger than the last. It feels so good it almost hurts - especially when he shifts to rest your right leg on his shoulder.

“Tsk coming again?” Baekhyun grins, the wind and rain whipping from the open doorway behind him casting him in a misty glow. “What a greedy whore you are,” he murmurs.

Before you fall over that blissful, yet frightening edge, you start to notice the signs: his sloppy thrusts, tightening grip, and the clench of his jaw.

“J-Just for you,” you pull him closer, purposely clamping your walls down on him, the sway of his hips when he falls out of rhythm egging you on. “Only for you.”

Baekhyun sucks in a breath, holding you down to the table, watching intently as your wet cunt spasms around his cock. “Fuck.” He growls, throwing his head back. You shake under the force of your orgasm, pulling him closer. “Fuck!” with one last, hard thrust, Baekhyun trembles, filling you to the brim with warm spurts of cum. The sensation is enough to make your toes curl, warmth bursting in your chest, the feeling leaving you content. You have little time to enjoy it, however, because the table gives one last, aching croak before falling out from under you.

You scream, gripping onto Baekhyun. His quick hands grab the back of your thighs, tugging you onto his lap when he sits back down with a huff. “Shit...” he chuckles breathlessly, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eye. “Guess this piece of shit is old after all.”

You know you should say something, but your attention is elsewhere. Between watching sweat slide down his chest from his messily unbuttoned shirt and his cock twitching inside of you, you’re more than a little preoccupied at the moment.

Baekhyun sits up after a minute, “let’s get out of here.” He tries to grin, but something is off in his smile while he swivels his head around, hurrying to pull you off of him. You stumble over a little, taking two steps away from the booth before your legs give out. Baekhyun swoops you up into his arms without a word, carrying you bridal style out of the cabin that reeks of sweat and sex. His wide strides make for a very rough ride within his arms. “Baekhyun,” you look up at him, confused at the hint of panic on his face. “What’s wrong-”

He doesn’t even walk back to the main cabin. He turns left and fucking leaps clean off of the train, hitting the ground running. Climbing up the steep hill alongside the railway. You’re even more confused at his hurry. “Baek-”

“Cover your ears.” He demands.

For once, you do what he says without complaint. And your hands do little to drown out the explosion that makes you jump in his arms. Baekhyun keeps running while you peek over his shoulder, staring horrified at the train that has burst into flames.

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” he sets you down at a bench a few feet away. “Stay here while I grab my bike.”

“Baek-” you keep glancing back at the fire, watching it envelop the field in flames. “But-”

He crouches down to look you dead in the eye. “Stay. Here.”

You quickly nod, urging him to go on. Now is not the time to argue. You need to get out of here and you need to get out of here now. If only you could fucking walk. You swear you can feel the heat waves coming off the fire.

A loud roar rings out into the empty clearing. You’ve never been more relieved to hear the loud-ass engine of Baekhyun’s motorcycle heading towards you. “Get on!” he yells, holding out his helmet, waiting for you.

Looking back at the fire nearing the bench you’re sitting on, you use every last ounce of strength you have left in your jelly-like legs to climb onto the back of his bike. Baekhyun waits until you strap on the helmet before speeding off, leaving the ablaze train and burning field in the dust.

You cling onto him like a lifeline, hiding in his back to shelter your face from the icy rain. Funny how you just began to appreciate the cold after encountering that inferno. If you had to choose between that and shivering under the rain, you’d gladly tremble like a wet rat.

Baekhyun doesn’t speak for the entire ride, wordlessly navigating down endless alleyways and streets until you start to recognize your surroundings. As shabby as your apartment is, you’re so damn glad to be back home.

Baekhyun pulls up to the curb, slowly climbing the hill your place resides on. You breathe a sigh of relief, hugging him briefly before stepping off of his bike.

“Thank you for tonight,” you scan the street, confused to not find a single soul outside this time of night. You glance back at him, managing a smile, “wanna come up?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Busy,” he insists. Something in the air tells you that there’s more to that simple word.

“Okay,” you chirp, not wanting the night to end. Crazy train explosions and all, you’re not ready to let go of him yet. “When are you free? Tomorrow? Next week?”

Baekhyun turns off the motorcycle, slowly climbing off of it before making his way to you. Every step he takes feels like a goodbye, and you don’t understand why…

“I have to skip town,” he drops, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“W-why..?” you falter.

“They found me,” he shrugs.

“How?”

“How do you think?” he snaps, the flickering street light reflecting the anger in his dark brown eyes.

“I…” Him? Having to leave town? To leave you? You can’t believe it. You don’t want to believe it.

“They found me.” Baekhyun sighs, running his hand through his hair. “They found me and traced it back to you.”

Your heart stops, something tells you that you don’t want to know who they are, or what they’d do if they come for you. After the situation with your stepfather, you are even more wary of being in the Mafia’s eye.

Baekhyun takes a step closer, standing in front of you. “They caught onto me, little fawn.” He cups your cheeks in his hands, “and I can’t bring them to you...” He pauses as if carefully choosing his words. “You deserve better than that.”

“No,” you’re automatically shaking your head, holding his hand to your cheek. “I don’t care.”

“Bambi-”

“I don’t-”

“Well I do!” his thunderous tone is loud in the quiet night. “I do,” he softens, brushing away a tear from your cheek, “and I can’t let you throw your life away for someone like me.”

“Baekhyun,” you can’t - you literally cannot right now. “You can’t do this.”

“I can,” he straightens up, determination in his low voice, “and I will.”

“B-But,” you grab onto his wrist, blabbering and fighting back tears like the coward you are. “C-Can’t I go with you? Can’t you take me-”

“No.”

The finality in those words hurt more than any other heartache you’ve ever felt in your life.

Baekhyun turns to head back to his bike but stops in his tracks, looking back at you. He walks to you again, pulling something out of his pocket. Something shiny that catches your eye...

“Keep this,” he lowers his voice, wanting an audience with you and only you. “Keep this and the memory of me close to your heart.”

You don’t even try muffling your sobs, because he is your heart.

Baekhyun slips the coin into the palm of your hand, and you ball your hand up into a fist, finding comfort in its contours and shapes that you know by heart.

“W-will you come back one day?” you can’t help but ask, your view of his broad back growing blurrier by the second.

Baekhyun looks back at you and he nods, a solemn smile on his handsome face. “One day,” he promises. “Remember me, okay?”

You watch him climb onto his motorcycle, trying to memorize every part of his face, his voice, his presence growing farther and farther away. All you can offer him is a small nod, plastering a shaky smile on your face.

Baekhyun smiles, and for the first time, you see a spark of unmistakable affection in his brown eyes. “I hope the sun doesn’t rise while I keep my eyes closed,” he whispers, yet somehow you hear it; the words caressing your tear-stained cheeks like the cold wind. That’s what he is, after all: your night. Your hero when the rest of the world turned its back on you. The one you could only spend time with during those few hours before the sun rose again.

A smile cracks at your lips and a chuckle escapes you despite the sadness entrapping your heart. “See you, Peter pan.”

Baekhyun tips his fedora, his eyes crinkling when he smiles, and you watch him start his engine, driving back down the road you’ve watched him drive up so many times.

You roll the coin around in your hand, taking deep, shaky breaths. The unfairness of the situation dawns on you in waves.

It’s so unfair - he’s so unfair.

There are over seven billion people on earth, yet you know in your heart that you’ll never meet another him, you wouldn’t dream of meeting another Baekhyun. You can’t forget him, he’s engraved in your heart, tattooed on your mind...

It’s so unfair... because all it takes is another pretty little thing for him to forget you.

“For some reason, the thought of tossing it away makes your chest ache. It would be so much easier if it wasn’t so pretty…”

-More like:

“For some reason, the thought of tossing him away makes your chest ache. It would be so much easier if he wasn’t so pretty…”

Come on, OC, we know you’re whipped for Baekhyun :’)

Hi guys! So that was the long asf Bambi inspired one-shot I’ve been planning since last month. I honestly expected this to come out as 4k at best. I don’t know what the heck happened, but I hope it was a good read? Let me know! My ask box is always open. I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰

By the way… 👀 anyone up for a part 2? My schedule is packed, but damn if I don’t miss Rattlesnake already 🥺

Who’s Rattlesnake you ask? Well well well then, you should check out Mafia!Baekhyun from this universe’s present/future in Need.

-Yes I plan to write a whole mafia fic eventually :'DDD my drafts are screaming at me rn-

Thank you for reading, everyone! I’m running away now to do my walk of detailed plot and smutty shame :’D Stay happy, healthy, and hydrated! (>.<) See you next time!~

#baekhyun smut #bbh-net #baekhyun #baekhyun angst #mafia!baekhyun #baekhyun fanfiction #Bambi things #Off The Rails

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bamby0304 · 2 years

Text

She Howls III: Alpha

Summary: Angela had spent the last year growing as a person and a werewolf, learning how to control herself and manage both her ordinary and supernatural life. Finally, it seemed as if things were settling down, allowing her to have a moment to breathe. That is until a pack made entirely of alphas, and a mass-murdering stranger came to town and start tearing everything apart.

Ch.1: Tatua

Story Masterlist

Warnings: N/A

Bamby

“Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture,” the tattooist noted sarcastically as he held the picture my brother had given him.

It was a design, drawn by hand, of two bands, the top one thicker than the bottom. The plan was to get them on Scott’s left forearm. He’d told me about it a few days ago, and so, as a gift for his first day back at school tomorrow, I decided to pay for it. Now, here we were, Scott, Stiles and myself, in the tattoo parlour, waiting for Scott to get inked.

It was night, so the place was lit up by neon signs and lights. There were photos of tattoos and drawings of designs all over the walls. The place felt very cliché when it came to tattoo parlours.

“Hey, Scott, sure you don't want something like this?” Stiles lifted a file of designs he’d been looking through, showing as an image of a creature that closely resembled a Kanima.

Scott gave him an exasperated look a sigh.

“Too soon?” Stiles asked, seeing my brother’s facial expression. “Yeah.” He nodded, putting the file away.

I laughed lightly, turning back to the file I was flicking through. Getting a tattoo wasn’t something I’d really ever thought about doing, but now that we were here I was a little curious.

Stiles sighed, moving over to stand in front of Scott’s chair. “I don't know, man, are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?”

“I'm not changing my mind.” Scott had made his decision.

“Okay, but why two bands?” Stiles asked.

Scott shrugged. “I just like it.”

“But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?”

“Getting a tattoo means something,” Scott and I said at the same time, giving each other smiles after.

Stiles looked to both of us. “I don't think that's-”

“They’re right, tattooing goes back thousands of years,” the tattooist cut him off. “The Tahitian word ‘tatua’ means ‘to leave a mark’. Like a rite of passage.”

“Yeah, you see?” Scott gestured to the burly man who now sat by his chair, grabbing the tattoo gun. “He gets it.”

“He's covered in tattoos, Scott. Literally.”

I laughed lightly again, closing the book I’d been flicking through. Without saying anything I moved over to stand by Stiles so I could watch Scott get his tattoo.

“Okay, you ready?” the tattooist asked, getting a nervous nod in return. He hesitated. “You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?”

“Nope,” Scott assured him.

I grinned lightly. “He’s tougher than he looks.”

The machine turned on then, a buzzing surrounding us.

Stiles moved a little closer, curious. “I tend to get a little squeamish though, so…” Suddenly he started to fall.

I was right there, catching him inches from the ground. “Okay. There we go.” I lifted him into my arms. “Chair?” I asked the tattooist- who had paused the tattooing.

“Over there.” He gestured behind me to where a worn black leather lounge sat.

Turning, I took Stiles over to it, carrying him bridal style.

“You’re stronger than you look,” the tattooist noted, impressed.

“Tougher, too,” Scott added. I could hear the smile in his words.

I looked over my shoulder to flash him a knowing grin. Being tough and strong were just two of the perks that came with being werewolves.

…

I climbed into the back of Stiles’ Jeep. Scott pulled his chair back into place once I was seated before he got in himself. Stiles wasn’t too far behind, getting behind the wheel.

Scott groaned in pain, looking down at the bandage on his arm.

“You okay?” Stiles asked as he pulled his seatbelt on.

“Kinda burns,” Scott answered tensely.

“Yes, you just had your skin stabbed about 100,000 times with a needle,” Stiles noted.

“Yeah, but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this,” Scott countered. There was a pause before he flinched and groaned in pain. “Oh, God. No, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this. Oh, I gotta take this thing off.”

“No, no, no, no, Scott.” Stiles shook his head, freaking out. “Oh, Scott, please stop. Whoa, whoa.”

Ignoring him, I reached over, extended my claw and cut Scott’s bandages so they slipped off easily.

Right before our eyes, as Scott flinched and squirmed in pain, we watched the two bands disappear. The ink faded completely as if it had never been there in the first place.

“Oh, no, what? No, no, come on,” Scott sighed, his head falling back against his chair. “It healed.”

A second or two paused before Stiles let out a relieved breath. “Ah, thank God. I hated it,” he mumbled as he put the car in gear, forgetting Scott and I could hear him. When we shot him a look, he paused. “Sorry.”

Rolling my eyes, I nudged his chair. “Just drive, Stiles.”

Doing as I said, Stiles drove off, leaving the parking lot outside the tattoo parlour. He and Scott fell into conversation pretty quickly, but I was distracted by my phone. I still had no messages from Derek.

Over the last few months- four, to be exact- Derek and I had been working on our relationship. After the rollercoaster we went through last year, we were determined to make it work this time around.

Most nights I would either go to his loft- which he’d bought during the four months once he realised he was staying in town- and then there were a few where he’d stayed at my house. But it was awkward with mum and Scott around- not that it wasn’t awkward with Isaac at his.

We didn’t spend every night together. We’d go days without talking at all. It was annoying, but it was something I had to get used to.

Derek had secrets. I didn’t like that, and he didn’t like keeping things from me, but we both knew it was for the best. As long as he wasn’t my Alpha, and I wanted to have some semblance of a normal life, he was going to have to keep things from me. Plus, part of him always felt the need to protect me from whatever drama he was dealing with.

Speaking of a normal life, the reason why I was expecting a text from him tonight was because of my interview tomorrow.

“Hey, Angie?”

My head shot up as I heard Stiles calling my name. “Yeah.”

“Called you like a million times. You good back there?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

I gave him a small smile. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Scott turned in his seat. “About the interview?” It was as if he’d just read my mind.

“Of course, about the interview,” Stiles answered for me. “She hasn’t thought about anything else for the past month.”

It was true. About a month ago I got a call from the high school admin. After they heard I’d been accepted into the local community college for an associate’s degree in education they acted fast to snap me up. Apparently with my past grades and extensive volunteer work a few schools had wanted to offer me a job.

I wasn’t sure what the job would entail, and I wasn’t sure what other places had wanted to offer me a job. All I cared about was the fact I could spend the next two years working at my old high school, with my brother and best friend, when I’m not studying.

The plan was to do my associate’s degree, which would take two years. Then, once that’s done, Scott and Stiles would finish high school and be going off to college as well. Wherever they’d want to go, I’d go too. Nothing was splitting us apart.

“Do you know what the job is yet?” Scott asked.

“Nope,” I answered. “All I know is I have an interview with one of the faculty members first thing tomorrow.”

“And when do you start college?”

“Not for another two weeks.” I shrugged, leaning back in my chair, slipping my phone into the pocket of my jeans. “Hopefully I get the job, so I don’t have to sit around, waiting. Inste,ad I can spend time at school with you guys.” I smiled.

“Speaking of school… have you heard from Allison?” Stiles glanced at Scott as he drove down the road, coming up to a set of red lights. “Do you know if she’s gonna be there tomorrow?”

Scott shook his head. “Nah, we agreed to give each other the summer no texts, no calls.”

Stiles stopped at the red light, right by the one and only car which had also stopped. “So, then how do you know she won't be back at school then?” he asked.

Chuckling nervously, Scott shifted in his seat. “After everything that happened, I'm not sure she's coming back at all.”

Reaching over, I rested a gentle hand on Scott’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll come back.”

For the past four months, I’d been right by Scott’s side, just in case he needed the support after Allison broke up with him. Surprisingly though, he’d been handling it a lot better than I thought he would have. He’d been handling everything pretty well, actually.

He went to summer school and worked his butt off, bumping his grades from a D to a B. When he wasn’t in summer school he’d asked me to tutor him- which I did, of course. He’d set himself some readings and tasks and organised everything.

He started to work out daily and changed his living habits. Getting up earlier, eating better and more consistently.

Lastly, he’d been hanging out with Stiles more, as well. Instead of focusing on Allison, Scott had pulled back to hang out like a normal teenager. He’d even started spending time with Isaac a little. Surprisingly, the fact Derek and I were dating didn’t piss him off.

Work was a pretty big deal, and he’d been going at it hard. I’d offered to give him a few extra days here and there when I wanted a little more time with Derek. Before long, he’d saved up enough to buy himself a dirt bike- which was his pride and joy now.

He was doing pretty good.

“I think she is.” Stiles shrugged, his tone of voice seeming pretty sure. “I'd say pretty definite, you know.” Scott and I both looked to him then as he went on. “Like one hundred per cent.” He nodded to Scott’s right.

Scott turned to look out his window as I leaned over to pop my head between the two of them, so I could look as well.

Sure enough, sitting in the car next to us, was none other than Lydia Martin… and Allison Argent.

She was smiling and laughing, as beautiful as ever. Her hair had been cut, having once fallen halfway down her back, but now resting on top of her shoulders. Her style had changed as well, going from the fun and young cute outfits she’d been wearing when dating Scott, to the dark and fierce outfits after losing her mum, to a more natural and relaxed style.

Scott’s whole body tensed, his jaw hanging open as he watched her, speechless.

Laughing in the car, she looked to Lydia, before her eyes caught sight of the three of us in the car over. Her smile fell.

“Oh, my God. No.” Scott pulled away and ducked, trying to hide from her view. “Can we just drive please, Stiles?”

“Scott, it's a red light.” Stiles gestured to the traffic lights in front of us.

“No one is around. Just go,” I told him, knowing how much Scott wanted- and needed- to get out of there.

Instead, Stiles did the complete opposite. “I think we should talk to her. I just think we should say something.”

“No.” Scott watched with wide eyes as Stiles reached over to wind his window down. “No, no, Stiles, come on. Oh, my God, dude, no!”

“Hey!” Stiles called out the window.

Lydia slammed her foot onto the accelerator, speeding off.

I let out a breath, falling back into my seat. “Good one, Stiles.”

He shrugged. “You know, they probably didn't see us.”

“Right.” I rolled my eyes, shaking my head.

A moment, maybe a second or so, later, the light changed to green. Stiles started forward, heading down the road… right behind Lydia and Allison.

Scott’s eyes went wide, heart beating fast. “What are you doing?”

“I'm driving,” Stiles answered as if to say, ‘duh’.

“We're right behind them,” Scott noted, still freaking out.

“Okay, well, do you see any turns?”

“I don't want it to look like we're following them.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

“I don't know, anything.”

Sighing, Stiles slammed on the brakes, stopping right in the middle of the road. We were flung forward in our seats slightly, stopping when our seatbelts locked into place.

Moving back, I groaned, tugging on my seatbelt. “Is that really all you could think of doing? You didn’t think of, I don’t know, turning around? Pulling over to the side? Slowing down a little? Anything?”

Stiles turned in his seat, not liking my tone. “Next time how about you drive then?”

“Fine. I will.” I shrugged. “Move and I’ll drive right now,” I offered, lifting my hand and gesturing for the keys.

“Uh… guys…” Scott pulled our attention to him.

We all looked out the front window, seeing the girls stopped in the middle of the road as well.

“Should we move?” Stiles asked, looking to Scott for permission.

“I don’t know… maybe we should-”

Before Scott could finish we saw a deer run headfirst into Lydia’s car, straight through the window. Even though we were a distance away, we could hear the glass smash and the girls scream inside the vehicle.

“Move. Go. Go.” I pushed at Stiles and Scott, needing them to get out so I could.

We all rushed out of the car and ran up the road as the girls tumbled out from their vehicle, hurrying back towards us.

“Are you okay?” Scott went straight for Allison.

Stiles moved to Lydia. “It came out of nowhere.”

“Are you hurt?” Scott checked Allison.

“It ran right into us,” she explained.

“Are you okay?” He needed to know. I could feel the concern dripping off him.

Nodding, she reassured him. “I'm okay.”

“Well, I'm not okay!” Lydia exclaimed. “I am totally freaking out. How the hell does it just run into us?”

Moving around the car, I headed towards the deer as it lay on the hood. Its last breath of air escaped its lungs as I stopped by its side. I could feel the last of its emotions pulsing off it as its heart came to a stop.

“I saw its eyes right before it hit us,” Lydia told us as Scott came over to stand with me. “It was like it- it was like it was crazy.”

“No, it was scared,” Scott noted, now next to me.

Reaching forward with a careful and delicate hand, I touched its still warm fur. Its emotions rushed into me at the contact. “More like terrified.”

…

Last night’s events were still fresh in my mind. The image of the dead deer and the remnants of its emotions still floated in my memory. It had made sleeping a little more difficult than usual. I’d tried contacting Derek to see if he could come over or I could go to his, but I got no response.

Sleep eventually came, but I tossed and turned all night. I had a feeling it wasn’t all due to the deer though. My nerves for my interview played a part as well.

Speaking of the interview. I stood in front of my floor-length mirror that hung on my wardrobe door, looking over the outfit I’d picked. Hoping it was professional enough.

My style had been simple and minimal before I’d been bitten. Leggings, t-shirts, jeans, slip dresses. White, black, with some basic colours thrown in. My hair had been longer, with fewer layers, and was barely ever out of its ponytail.

Then, with a broken heart, I’d gone all badass and sexy. Short skirts, skinny jeans, tight shirts, boots and heels. Black was my main colour, with some royal blues, purples and reds thrown in. I’d gotten my hair layered and started wearing it down more often than not.

Now, I’d relaxed a little, holding off on the sexy and badass, while still trying to make an effort to be more than simple. I was trying for an equal balance of both styles.

Today I’d chosen a pair of dark skinny jeans, a light grey top with thin straps, with my black cardigan thrown on top. My hair was back in a ponytail, high on top of my head, some loose strands of hair falling loose or tucked behind my ear.

This is good. I can do this. This is good.

Nodding to myself, feeling as confident as I was going to get, I moved towards the bathroom door, grabbing my black leather bag that hung over my shoulder and down past my hip, and my black strappy heels.

Opening the bathroom door, I found Scott in the doorway to his room, doing some pullups with one hand, while the other held the book he was reading.

His computer dinged before I could make a teasing or sarcastic comment- even though I was actually proud of the changes he’d made.

Jumping down, he gave me a small smile before looking over at his computer that sat on the dresser a step or two away. He dropped the book onto the pile of other books he’d already finished reading.

“Word of the day?” I asked.

He nodded, reading the screen. “’Ephemeral. Lasting for a short time. Transient. Momentary’.” Pausing, he looked to his arm where the tattoo should have been sitting. “Ephemeral.”

Grinning lightly, I walked past him and grabbed his bag. “Come on, bookworm. Stiles will be here in ten minutes.”

…

Parked in the school parking lot, I climbed out of Stiles’ Jeep and walked around to stand at the front before waiting for both Stiles and Scott- who had come on his dirt bike. Stiles moved to put his bag on the hood before looking through it to make sure he had everything.

“So, you heard from Derek?” he asked conversationally.

“Nope.” I shook my head, leaning back on the car.

“How long has it been?”

“Six days.”

Pausing, he turned to look at me, a little concerned. “And you’re okay with that?”

“He’s a little busy,” I noted.

“True.” He nodded, agreeing.

I straightened up then, seeing Scott headed our way. “Hey.” I smiled at him. “You ready?”

He gave a short nod, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Yep.”

The three of us started for the entrance of the school. There were people everywhere. Parents, teachers, students, staff. It was the first day, and I could literally feel all the nervous excitement bubbling around us.

“I was thinking…” Scott started as he held the door open for Stiles and me, “you think Derek could help me with my tattoo?” he asked me.

Stiles looked to him like he was insane. “You wanna ask Derek for help? Why? Why?”

Even though Derek and I were dating, Stiles still didn’t feel one hundred per cent comfortable with him. The whole Derek-turning-teens-into-werewolves thing hadn’t easily been forgotten- or forgiven. Let’s not forget the fact Derek and his pack had threatened- and attacked- Stiles, Scott and me a few times over the past few months.

“He's got the triskele tattooed on his back,” Scott noted. “So there has to be a way to do it without healing, right?” He turned to me. “You think he’ll help?”

“I mean, yeah.” I shrugged. “But he’s kinda busy…” We stopped at the bulletin board then, seeing the two ‘Missing’ posters for Erica and Boyd. “Let’s not forget that Peter is still around. Derek is trying to deal with him as well.”

“Look, these are the applications for the career advisor.” Another voice close by caught our attention. “I need them sorted. And whatever happened to the library while I was gone, I want it cleared up.” We looked around the corner and into the offices, seeing the old principal back not that Gerard was gone. “And what the hell is this?” he asked the admin lady he was with, lifting a sword from behind the desk.

I laughed lightly, pushing the boys down the hall. “Go, go, go.”

We hurried away from the offices and towards Scott’s locker. Stiles turned and leaned against the locker next to Scott’s while I stood to the side a little, facing both him and Scott.

“When’s your interview?” Stiles asked me as Scott put some books into his locker.

“It starts the same time first period does,” I answered, shifting on my feet, feeling my nerves rise a little.

Scott turned to me, offering an encouraging smile. “Hey, you’re gonna do great,” he assured me as he closed his locker.

“Thanks.” I gave him a little smile back. “And I’m sure you’re gonna have a great first day. Both of you.” I looked from him to Stiles.

“Yeah, you know, I thought it was going to be weird now that you’ve graduated. But you’re here today, and if you get this job...” Stiles shrugged, not needing to finish his sentence for us to understand.

“That’s just another reason why I need to do well in this interview.” I nodded, reaching for my back to pull my phone out so I could check the time. “I’m gonna go wait outside the office, hopefully get in early so I can get it over and done with. I’ll see you guys later?”

They both nodded in response.

Giving them one last small and a quick goodbye, I then headed down the hall and back to the offices, hoping this interview turned out as well as everyone else seemed to think it would.

…

I’d been sitting outside the offices for fifteen minutes, waiting to be called in. Part of me wondered if I should go in and ask if there was something wrong, while the other part told me to be patient. I chose the latter, settling in, promising to wait just a few more minutes.

The longer I waited the worse I felt. I’d turned my phone off, not wanting to see if my mum had messaged to ask how the meeting went yet. She had an early shift this morning but had made sure to wish me all the luck before leaving.

With my phone off, I found it hard to distract myself from my nerves. Every time I tried thinking about something else my brain just kept going back to the interview.

“McCall.”

I looked up, seeing Coach Finstock walking down the hall and towards me. He looked just as he always had, his short, frizzy and thin hair unkept on top of his head and dressed in comfortable clothes both suitable for teaching and sports.

“Coach.” I smiled, getting to my feet. “Didn’t think it would be this soon that I’d get the chance to see you again. How is my favourite teacher?”

He smiled lightly, he continued down the hall. “You haven’t even started the interview and you’re already proving you’re right for the job.”

My smile froze for a moment. “You know about the job?”

“Of course. I’m the one giving the interview.” He came to stop in front of me. “Why don’t we go to my office and do this properly?”

A little stunned, all I managed was a simple nod.

“Great.” He smiled before turning on his heels and heading down the hall again.

It took a second before my brain caught up and I started to follow him.

…

Coach slid into the seat behind his desk as I sat down across from him. He grabbed some paperwork and stacked it on top of more papers, before opening a drawer and pulling out another piece of paper with writing I couldn’t quite see on it.

“Okay, McCall.” He looked up at me, his arms folded in front of him. “You and I both know how smart you are, and how much volunteer work you’ve done for this school. I know you’ll be studying for an associate’s degree in education soon. I’m thinking that means you want to be a teacher?”

“Yes, sir.” I nodded. “I’m hoping to do my associate’s degree so I can be a substitute teacher, and during that time I’m planning on figuring out what subject I’d like to major in and teach later.”

“I spoke to the school board, and your professors have been contacted to see what can be done to give you a head start. You’ve helped this school over the years, so we want to help you back.” He shifted in his seat, leaning back a little more. “That’s why I’m offering you the chance to work as an aid.”

“An aid? You mean, like, a teacher’s assistant?” I asked, trying to understand what was up for offer. “Your assistant?”

“The school board looked at your volunteer history. You’ve helped with a lot of the sporting events, especially for the lacrosse team. Plus, I actually don’t mind you. The team seems to like you, too. And maybe you can keep your brother in line so he won’t have to sit on the bench next season” He shrugged.

“He’s been working at getting his grades up all summer,” I assured him, offering an encouraging smile.

“Great.” He smiled back. “Now, the work will be part-time, so it won’t interfere with your studies, and it will be unpaid. But it will look great on your resume.”

“What does a coach assistant do?” I asked, curious and sceptical.

As much as I knew the job would do wonders when I look for work later, or if I chose to transfer to another college, I didn’t want to put energy into something that didn’t interest me. I had my studies, work at the clinic, and let’s not forget werewolf responsibilities as well. That was a lot to worry about without this extra workload.

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll be assisting me in economics as well,” he explained. “Helping with organizing paperwork. Filling in when I need to go to meetings. Supervising. Marking. Helping students in class. Anything you can do to help make my job easier.” He grinned.

Sitting there, thinking about it, the offer did actually sound pretty good. Not only would it mean I would have the upper hand when it comes to people also studying my degree, but I’ll also be on campus with Stiles and Scott. I’ll be on the campus I knew and love. It was familiar, comfortable. The people here knew me, and I knew them.

“Okay.” Smiling I nodded. “Deal. Let’s do this.”

“Really?” Coach looked a little surprised. “You heard the part about it being unpaid, right?”

“You’ve seen all the volunteer work I’ve done. Not getting paid doesn’t bother me,” I assured him.

Knowing I was on board with it all, his smile returned. “Great!” Standing from his seat, he offered me his hand.

I stood as well, taking and shaking his hand. “When do I start?”

“How does tomorrow sound?”

Bamby

#derek hale fanfiction #derek hale fic #derek hale x oc #angela mccall #she howls #she howls iii #she howls iii: alpha

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ceiling-painted-white · 3 years

Note

Hii I read your rules and saw that you have some works in progress so you dont need to rush with this one!

I was wondering if I could request big buff and burly male reader x sally face or the others headcanons that's a little baby on the inside?

Like they'll most definitely beat some ass but hate getting pinched or they come up behind the guys and scare away travis or anyone else trying to bully or makes moves on them

Hi! Fun fact, this isn’t the usual writer for these headcanons, but their slightly-more-chaotic bestie. I may not write the same way as them, but I hope you still enjoy :) That said, I’m glad they gave me this one to work with. Ship dynamics are hit or miss for me, but when they hit, they hit. And this one is no exception. Not to be over dramatic but i am literally shaking with excitement writing this.

So without further ado,

sal with a buff (and slightly sensitive/emotional) s/o - m!reader

✧I know the request said male, so i’m leaning towards that, but I feel like sal would have zero complaints about a buff gf or nb S/O

✧First order of business

✧CUDDLING

✧when you first get together, you’d probably always big spoon

✧but when you guys get more serious, sal would big spoon bc he knows that you love it

✧Sal would also probably use you as a pillow/teddy bear on the regular

✧Trapping you almost daily because do not wake the sal

✧Weak spot: Stomach

✧You might have the worst day ever but when sal lays his head down on your stomach

✧Problems? What problems?

✧In public youre usually relaxed with sal because how could you not be ✧Sal hangs onto your arm like a lifeboat

✧but you’re not afraid to use your size when you get protective

✧times like when travis tries it or when your neighborhood demon comes to party (more on that later)

✧Your pretty good in a fight, but you default to pacifism unless necessary

✧You (no offense) are a scaredy cat. Like, to the point you don’t watch halloween episodes

✧Sal tries to comfort you whenever you get spooked, and it works roughly 102% of the time

✧That said, you still would fight Supernatural Forces™ if sal asked you to or if was it bothering him

✧You guys can cry at any disney movie. Period.

✧When you guys need to deal with your emotions, you have a special list of movies you can watch to let out the tears

Any princess movie

bambi

The lion king (one scene, you know what i’m talking about)

Toy story and it’s sequels

Air Bud

101 Dalmations

Lilo and stitch

The incredibles

bridge to terabithia

Ratatouille

FREAKING WALL-E

HSM trilogy (its not really sad, but the songs are just emotional) UP UP UP UP

✧You get along well enough with Sals friends. Sals dad may be weary at first, but he comes around quickly

✧piggyback rides piggybACK RIDES PIGGYBACK RIDES-

✧and most importantly

✧how many people in this ship are required to change a lightbulb?

✧one, but they do it together because Sal likes being carried

#sal fisher x reader #sally face x reader

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agirldying · 3 years

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my childhood was screwed straight to hell n bedrock. fine, whatever. i grow up, move away from home, and start getting better. like, really better. my relationship with food repaired, i started freaking out less whenever someone touched me (only had two instances that whole year where i lashed out!!), my grades improved to damn near fucking perfection, my nightmares dissipated, etc. fucking mint. then i moved back to my hometown because everyone i love is there, y'know? my really good friends and my best mate, who is closer to me than any fuckin blood of mine might be. all the fuckers from my childhood were gone and i'm pretty much recovered, so why the hell wouldn't i go home?

i got sexually assaulted.

i was hanging out with my best mate a few months after moving down there. we were celebrating; they'd managed to pass another year without getting thrown out of school. which isn't something they have a problem with, but i do, so i thought we should go out to get ice cream.

one of their mates joined us last second. big ass motherfucker who looked like he did bloody steroids or some shit. not anyone new, really. i'd been acquainted with him for months at that point and we talked semi-frequently in a gc. bro has a bad temper and acts like some basement dwelling redditor. he was convinced i had a crush on him, which was probably my bad, i did tease him all the fucking time. oh well.

we go get ice cream, everything is fine and dandy, then we head back to my mate's apartment. the burly motherfucker follows us back to their place, and we can't exactly tell him to fucking leave because he is 6'0" and like 200lbs of pure muscle and does whatever he wants. so he invites himself in.

now, something i personally have a problem with is ignoring signs of me going to fucking collapse until last minute. it was 90 something degrees out, i hadn't eaten anything but ice cream in a day n a half (ADHD, not eating disorder), we just walked two or three miles, and i hadn't slept much at all the past week. all stars aligned for a bad time.

i was planning on just crashing on my mate's floor for an hour or two and then moving on, because they are very used to my bullshit. but unfortunately mr. burly bitch was present and i didn't really wanna pass the fuck out in front of him. so, instead, my clever little ass decided it would be so cute to just stay conscious.

my legs stopped working after like thirty minutes. whatever. mr. burly bitch stares at me like i'm fucking bambi or something. i let them know i'm probably not gonna move too much for the next few hours. burly is a little confused, but my mate moves on so he does as well. i migrated to my mate's bed because burly decided to start cleaning my mate's room for some fucking reason. my mate sat in a chair adjacent to the bed, half facing me.

i'm fucking shaking at this point, seeing double. just normal exhaustion shit. kinda wanted to vomit. burly is talking to my mate but i'm not really paying much attention because sounds sounded funny. i was mostly just considering passing out anyway because this shit fucking sucked. i don't really remember how or why, but burly comes to stand at my feet. some words get said between us; probably me being the asshole i am and him being his normal highly incel-like self. i don't fucking remember. and suddenly he's on me. my arms are pinned above my head with one hand, and he tried to keep me from kicking him in his ribs with his other.

he laughs about how weak i am as if i am not very clearly incompacitated. i turn my head to look for my mate but they're kinda just staring at us in horror. brilliant time to freeze up on their part. so helpful. thanks. now i'm fighting exhaustion, a flashback, and a man i'm half the weight of. shit escalates to a disgusting fucking point, and my mate finally speaks up from their stupid fucking chair. this does zero to help anything. burly once again comments on how weak i am, just before i nail him hard in the ribs and he lets go to cradle them.

he tried to laugh it off like it was nothing.

i go outside to vomit. he follows me after a few minutes. my friend follows burly. i go back inside with them, and we all pretend it didn't happen. then me n my mate go back to my place. it didn't get addressed again. i think my mate continued talking to him, but they got into a row for completely unrelated reasons a few days later and gave up contact.

i do not know why this man wanted to rape me in my friend's apartment right in front of them. i literally cannot understand it. it's such a fucking diseased brain thing to do. it was so fucking out of the blue. i thought he was was straight. guy acted every ounce the part. apparently not.

whatever. it makes me realise i'm still a weak little kid. i'm no stronger than when i was a child. it didn't matter how much i worked out, or how much i trained. i can't fucking save myself, and no one else was going to either.

nightmares came back, so did my eating disorder, and my absolute disdain for being touched, drug habits got more severe. everything got worse.

my mate moves in with me. i don't hold anything against them because they're kind of a pussy and have some sexual trauma themself anyway. it doesn't matter anymore. we were acting like nothing happened.

then one of the people who raped me as a kid came back. waltzed around as though nothing happened. i saw them four or five times in the span of two or three months for hours at a time. my mate's got no fucking clue, and they didn't say anything, but i could tell they were a little frustrated and scared. i was a right mess and wouldn't talk to them.

my rapist left again after a while. all's well again.

i tried telling my big brother. he's the only decent adult-adult figure i know and was the only reason i'm not as bad a bloke as i could've been. he misunderstood immediately and i didn't have the heart to correct him. he thinks someone just beat the shit outta me. wouldn't have been the first time. he was upset enough about that.

recently finally told my mate how burly scrambled my brain. they kinda just went "oh, shit." and then we moved on. again.

i contacted him. burly. last week. this one plot i had set for getting sent to jail didn't work out, so i thought the next best thing was to contact him. figured he could ruin me for good, yknow? put me in my place. i was trying to keep my mate out of it because they were still upset with him for whatever the fuck they'd argued about, and also because this was very mentally ill of me. they found out i was talking to him immediately. they asked why, and i said i didn't know. burly set up a time to hang out for all three of us, and didn't show up. for the best.

then my mate started hanging out with burly again. it only occurred to them after the fact that it was kind of screwed up to hang out with the guy that assaulted your best mate, so they finally asked me if they should continue hanging with him. i told them i don't control their relationships. they took that as an affirmative, and now they hang out every day.

shit's ass. they know how i feel about him. they know how he fucked me up. i'm not gonna tell them to stop talking to him because that's not my fucking right, but jesus christ. whatever, i guess. i'll solider through it until burly inevitably pisses off my mate again and they stop talking.

god this fucking sucks. i'm thinking about telling my mate about everything that's ever happened to me 'cause they don't really have the foggiest, but considering how the dumbass acted about burly assaulting me, i doubt it will be received well. i'm just kinda tired of hurting all the time lmao. moving back was a mistake, honestly.

Hey anon,

I think it is perfectly within your right to set a boundary that says “Obviously you can do whatever you want, but you being friends with my rapist makes me uncomfortable and I would rather you either stop being friends with him or I stop being friends with you”.

I mean I’ve had this problem before myself, finding some mutual friends between my abuser and I, and I totally understand how sickening and betraying that feeling is. I personally feel like a good friend shouldn’t be in communication or friendly with someone who has caused you trauma. It just isn’t really fair to you.

But I wanna say thank you for sharing your story, it was awful what you went through and I’m glad that you’ve chosen to speak up about it. I’m here if you need anything else.

#text #asks #tw #vent #trauma #ptsd #cptsd

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navybrat817 · 17 days

Note

Can lumberjack Bucky take care of me?

Yes, nonnie.

To-Do List

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky shares a list of things to do with you when you wake up. Word Count: Over 600 Warnings: Fluff, pet names, talk of sex, light humor, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: More Burly and Bambi . @tavners, can we manifest this? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky’s spot on the bed beside you is cool when you wake up and reach for him, seeking out his warmth. You don’t want to start the day cold.

But he’s back in the bedroom before you can get up to look for him, a tray in his hands and a smile on his face as you yawn.

The shirtless sight of your burly man is enough to chase any lingering tiredness away.

“Wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, Bambi,” he says as he sets the tray over you and lets you look over the feast he prepared. “You drooling over the food or me?” he teases.

You wipe at your chin, thinking for a moment that you did drool. “Both,” you smile, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear once he gets back in bed. “What’s the occasion?”

It isn't your birthday and or anniversary. No reason to celebrate anything.

“No reason at all, darling,” he answers, sincerity in his bright eyes before he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Just want to take care of you.”

Your heart flutters because no other guy had ever done anything for you just because they wanted to. “You take very good care of me,” you promise, feeding him a bite.

You watch him lick his lips after his bite, your heart fluttering for an entirely different reason. “This is just a start,” he says, feeding you a bite in return.

You would never turn down his cooking or him feeding you.

“What else could you possibly have planned? You have to work.”

“No work today,” he replies, nodding to a small piece of paper beside the plate.

A smile spreads across your face due to the impromptu day off before you pick up the sheet and scan it, recognizing his handwriting. “‘Burly and Bambi’s To Do List’,” you announce as he chuckles. “Breakfast in bed.”

“Check,” he smiles, feeding you another bite.

“Cuddle in bed,” you continue.

“After breakfast.”

A giggle bubbles up when you read the next thing on the list. “This just says ‘Each other’,” you state, which you would happily help him cross off.

He puts a hand on his chest when you laugh more. “Are you making fun of my list? You wound me.”

“I’m not,” you promise. Any excuse to do your lumberjack, you’ll take it.

“Good. Because I have us doing each other as number 6,” he smirks, your throat dry when his gaze falls to your chest. “And 9.”

You laugh all over again, careful not to shake the tray. “6 and 9? 69? Really?”

“It’s a good number,” he says nonchalantly. “And as your personal lumberjack, I’ll also be happy to split you in half.”

It’s a tempting offer and you’ll take him up on it. “After we eat.”

“Good idea,” he agrees, popping a bite of fruit into his sinful mouth. “You need your strength.”

“Cocky,” you whisper, but he’s right. You do need your strength because he’s insatiable. “You also have watch a movie together and snuggle with a blanket under the stars.”

“I’ll keep you nice and warm,” he promises, gesturing to the sheet. “Flip it over.”

You’re not sure how you manage to hold back tears as you read it, falling more in love with Bucky as you read out loud, “Tell Bambi how much I love her every day.”

He grasps your chin so you can’t hide your face. “I love you, Bambi,” he whispers, pressing his soft lips against yours.

You ask yourself how you’re lucky enough to be his girl as you kiss him back. “I love you, too, Burly.”

And you would tell him every day, too.

These two. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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muffin-n-waffle · 4 years

Text

I babbled about this a lot in the Sherlolly discord, but I can’t stop thinking about the first Christmas Sherlock and Molly share as a couple post all the s4 shenanigans. Her mother really wants her to come up to Scotland for the holidays (it’s where her mother’s side is from), but not just any part of Scotland. Oh no. It’s the Scottish countryside, on a farm.

Here we can let all of those holiday tropes free to run as wild as they wish. We have: Meeting the family for the first time. Incidentally, Molly actually has a big, burly older brother (Sherlock’s just the teensiest bit intimidated by his beard.) Hes protective, but in a charming ‘Let’s see what this city slicker can do’ kind of way. He’s also married with a kid, and maybe one on the way too, because I just love imagining Molly as an aunt, plus Sherlock with children is always a fun situation.

If you’re on a farm, then there’s bound to be animals. Sherlock and Molly could go horseback riding, and maybe they even teach him how to milk a cow? Said cow takes a liking to him, impressing Molly’s big brother even further.

There’s other tropes too though. The pond is frozen over, and Molly teaches, or rather, tries to teach Sherlock how to ice skate. He’s pretty hopeless though, (Think Bambi when he’s on the ice) and won’t shut up about frostbite and hypothermia should the ice break with the both of them still on top of it. There’s sledding too! Sledding on of those saucer things so Molly would basically be on his lap if they shared, plus it would make it easier for them both to topple over in the snow, Molly conveniently landing on top of Sherlock of course.

They could cut down their own Christmas tree, bake their own treats. Maybe since Molly’s got roots in Scotland, she gets a little bit of a brogue when she’s back home and it’s adorable?! Sherlock could wear a sweater! The possibilities are endless and I love it!

#sherlolly #mollock #sherlock x molly #sherlock and molly #holiday hc #christmas hc

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imeminemp3 · 4 years

Text

a love i held tightly (like a flame burning brightly)

AO3 / length 11k / fargo

High Queen Margo of Fillory was about to embark on a Quest— capital Q because it was of the highest importance, and also because High King Eliot was being pretentious about it. Eliot had insisted that Margo take a bodyguard because, “Bambi, you never know what might be out there waiting for their chance to jump the High Queen of Fillory.”

In which Margo goes on a Quest, Fen is her Knight, and there’s a lot of Fillory fuckery.

It had started like this:

So now here they were. King Quentin had madly cleared out the Banquet Hall to hold tryouts (Margo complained that that name sounded so high school sports team, but Quentin already had banners made) for the honour of escorting High Queen Margo on her Quest through Fillory and Loria. Quentin had cleared out the Banquet Hall because he worried it might rain, but a few days later they realised they had so many entries they would need to set up rings in the court outside as well to get through them all.

High King Eliot, High Queen Margo and King Quentin addressed the Fillorians who had entered on the first day of ‘tryouts’. Most of the hopefuls were human, but some of them were talking animals and trees. Queen Alice was not present, as she was busy with her own duties.

“Hello to all who have gathered here today,” Eliot began, “to fight for the honour of being bodyguard to the High Queen Margo. We will be drawing names out of hats, so please ensure you have all had your names taken down by our referees.”

“If you win your fight,” King Quentin piped in, “you will be staying for the second rounds tomorrow. We don’t have the space for all the fights to take place at once, nor do we have enough referees, so, uh, feel free to spectate when you yourself are not fighting.“

High Queen Margo simply smiled and looked pretty. Why not let the boys take care of something for once.

♡

The tryouts were already underway by noon, and things were looking promising. The first set’s victors were mostly big and burly men, but somehow a beech tree named Farvel managed to defeat their opponent. It was as the second set was just getting underway that the Fillorian commoners cheering on the fighters fell suddenly to a hush.

From their thrones seated high above the court, High King Eliot and High Queen Margo looked at each other quizzically, then down at the gates that had just swung open. Margo gasped.

The person who had just walked through the gates was a beautiful young woman fully kitted out in battle armour, most of which had knives tucked into odd places. She wore the most gorgeous boots, which Margo whispered to Eliot, but all he said was "But look how complex those laces are. Must be a trip to get on or off."

The woman unsheathed a sword from somewhere or other. Margo was too busy ogling her muscular arms to notice where the sword came from. She raised it high into the air and Gods Margo loved women who didn’t shave. But then again this was Fillory, so it was less of an anti-patriarchal statement and more of a common occurrence.

"I am Fen of Fillory,” the woman shouted, “daughter to sword-smith Dint the Second, and I wish to enter this… tryout.” The last word was said confusedly, because like every other Fillorian, she had never heard of the word. Damn Quentin for using it on all the slogans.

Eliot stood. “Fen? You’re late."

She only scowled at him, even though it was clear he was High King. Margo sent Tick down to get her full name on the list, and maybe find her an opponent.

Tick managed to find her one after much trouble. It was Penny. Margo hoped to high hell that Fen won, but she didn’t even know if Penny was good at sword fighting or not.

♞

It turned out that Penny was shit at sword fighting. And since he had no ability to use magic, Fen was the clear winner. Her swordsmanship was impeccable.

In the evening the victors of the day were served a feast in the Banquet Hall, once it had been put back together. The High King and Queen declined to attend, as they were setting out to check Rafe’s progress on finding them a boat. King Quentin, however, persuaded Queen Alice to join him at the feast. Margo asked him to keep an eye on Fen.

Rafe waited for Eliot and Margo on the docks, looking pleased with himself. Margo swore she heard the Kill Bill sirens in the distance.

"This had better be good,” Margo said.

Rafe gestured to a magnificent boat behind him. “May I present to you, the Swift."

Margo’s jaw dropped. Eliot wordlessly swept off to bring Quentin down. The ship that had been acquired for them was none other than the legendary boat that the Chatwins had stowed away on in The Secret Sea.

Quentin arrived with Alice and Eliot trailing considerably far behind just as Margo was stepping on board. He was out of breath and red in the face. Obviously he had run quite fast to get there. Breathlessly, he said "Oh, my god” and then he had to sort of collapse on the pier so he could catch his breath.

Alice and Eliot caught up to him and all but dragged him along with them to the boat. Margo could see on his face that he desperately wished he had taken it upon himself to go on the Quest, but it was already too late. This was her time to shine.

As Quentin fawned over the boat (“This is where Jane and Rupert slept!” He said as he entered the quarters below the deck. “This is where they stood!”), Margo covered logistics with Rafe. He recommended they take Abigail, as sloths generally had a good rapport with sentient boats. But that would mean he would have to come along. Of Course. Which meant another two mouths to feed on a journey that could take however damn long.

Margo reluctantly agreed. If things came to it, they could always sacrifice Abigail for food.

♡

As Margo entered the Banquet Hall the next morning, hastily fitted out with tables to seat the remaining competitors, Quentin came back in through the front door. His hair was messy and he had bedsheet lines pressed into his face. He’d obviously spent the night aboard The Swift, dreaming of his lost Quest.

The victors were being treated to another free meal, however this was the last one. The tryouts would be completed today and the Victor, capital V, would be determined.

By afternoon, the last sets of the day were about to start. The daily Fillorian eclipse had just passed, and the two moons hung heavily in the sky. Fen had made it this far and was about to fight her last competitor before the Final Battle. Her opponent was a melancholy looking man called Bingle.

Margo found herself highly invested in the battle. Fen was quick and skilled, where Bingle mainly dodged aims. He seemed to plan to outlast her. Margo supposed that was how he had made it this far. He mirrored Fen’s movements, but he didn’t have any knives or swords on his person. He seemed to be more of a martial artist. But what good would that do Margo?

In the end, Fen won. She was in the last round, which ended up occurring just as the sun started to set— her new opponent had also played the long game in his previous round. He was a big bear of a man, and he had a big sword. Margo didn’t quite catch his name. Something like Humbledrum? Fillorian names were so fucking weird sometimes.

The evening chill set in as the two began their fight. High King Eliot retired to his quarters even though he had promised to stay by Margo’s side all day. King Quentin and Queen Alice had also been with them, but they had made no such promise and left as soon as the mosquitoes started to bite. Fillorian mosquitoes were nasty things, bigger than any on Earth. The light dwindled as Fen pinned down her opponent, holding a knife to his neck. The leftover audience of the other failed contenders applauded; Margo had found her bodyguard.

♞

Fen attended dinner with the royals. Although she looked tough in the field, she was mostly eager to please and willing to do whatever she must to win approval. She was also quite talkative. Oddly, King Quentin took to her immediately. They discussed a lot of Fillorian politics. Who knew.

High Queen Margo decided halfway through one of Quentin’s long-winded comparisons between Earth politics and Fillorian politics, which Fen listened to eagerly, to make a toast.

She clinked her nails against her wine glass. Quentin stopped talking abruptly.

“Sir Fen,” she began, mentally reminding herself that they had to knight her tomorrow, “I raise my glass to make a toast to the finest fighter in Fillory.”

She raised her half-empty glass of wine and stood. High King Eliot, who was sitting next to her, hurriedly mirrored her actions, as did Queen Alice And King Quentin across from them. Fen sat between them, looking kind of small. And awkward.

“May our travels be successful and safe. To Fen.” Margo said, and her fellow royals toasted their guest, bodyguard to the High Queen of Fillory. Fen blushed and was considerably more quiet for the rest of the night.

♡

The next morning, Margo rose early. She roused the staff and had the court cleared of all the fighting equipment and marquees and spectator stands. It was a fine day, and she planned to knight Fen outside. She had sent up knight armour to Fen’s room, but likely it would need to be adjusted; while she was muscular, she was still small. She had also sent her breakfast. When Eliot learned of this, he accused her of cheating on him.

Margo would leave for her Quest tomorrow, but she had yet to fill in Fen on the details. She supposed she ought to soon, since what is the fun of coming along on a royal Quest without a clue of what’s going on!

A message was sent out to the Fillorians to remind them that a victor had been found and the High King and Queen requested their attendance for the soon to be Sir Fen’s knighting (in Fillory, they had no concept of 'Sir’ being gendered).

As it turned out, Fen found Margo mid-morning, interrupting her solitary drinking session in the throne room. Instead of drinking alcohol, she was drinking cup after cup of coffee, or whatever the Fillorian equivalent was. Either way, it helped her prepare for big events. Like her first knighting.

Fen had sought out Margo to ask about the Quest. The objective of it. Where they were going.

“We’re going to the Salty Sea. To rescue the Knight.” Margo explained, taking a long sip of her coffee. Fen’s face lit up.

“I have heard of such a Knight! She went missing on a regular tax collecting voyage many years ago. One would assume she’d died by now, or at least been taken captive?"

This was true. The Salty Sea lay just between the border of Fillory and Loria. It was quite possible she had been taken captive. Or starved to death. Supposedly it had been about 50 years. Details were quite murky though.

Margo was mostly taking on this Quest because she was bored of sitting around Castle Whitespire all day. But she had been hearing things whispered around Fillory for the past few months; rumors that indicated she may still be there.

"I’ve heard word that she may be alive on the island,” was all Margo said.

Fen looked at her strangely. It wasn’t confusion. She accepted what Margo had said. Margo couldn’t place her expression— was it contempt? Awe? Admiration? Pure hatred? Her eyebrows were furrowed, but her eyes looked innocently at the High Queen.

"Your Highness….” Fen started, but she didn’t say any more.

Margo prompted her with a slight head tilt. Fen sighed.

“Your Highness, I must confess something to you. I was raised for this. My childhood, apart from attending the School of Trees, was focused on becoming a trained bodyguard.” She paused. “A trained bodyguard to the High Queen of Fillory. I was promised for this role a long time ago, by my grandfather. Dint Wick.”

The man who had given them the sword to slay the Beast. How Margo had not picked up on that when Fen introduced herself was beyond her. Margo let out a huff.

“Fen, we cannot go this whole journey with you calling me 'Your Highness’. It’s impractical. You must call me Margo.”

Fen’s face contorted into an even stranger expression than earlier. But at least Margo could read it. She was conflicted. She wanted to please/impress her High Queen, but usually that involved calling her 'Your Highness’. But now she was being asked not to… Abiding by that would surely please her High Queen, but it went against the Rules.

“And also, great plot twist. I can’t believe Dint Wick the First made good on that little promise. I’d nearly forgotten about it.” Margo added on, changing the subject so Fen could chill out a little. It worked. Fen smiled and bid Margo adieu, leaving her to go get fitted for her knight armour.

The knighting was to be held at at noon.

Margo kind of hoped that the daily eclipse would start just as she knighted Fen, but she realised there really wasn’t much preamble to fill in the time between twelve and mid-afternoon. She had supposed there would be other rituals to undertake, and speeches and blessings and possibly offerings to Ember and Umber. You know, normal Fillory stuff. But Quentin informed her that in Fillory, it was really just as simple as Fen kneeling before Margo, and Margo saying the usual “Arise” crap with the sword touching both her shoulders, and then that was really it. It was too late to change the time of the knighting, too, so Margo had to forgo her dramatics.

There was always next time, Eliot had said.

But deep down, Margo kind of wanted to impress Fen with her showmanship. They’d had limited interactions, but Margo low-key found her hot, and also quite a nice person to be around.

She ended up over compensating for the whole eclipse-fail with an extravagant dress, not her usual garb but something to impress the Fillorian public as well as Fen. It was in the style of one of those renaissance dresses, which meant at least she could still show off her boobs.

♞

“Arise, Sir Fen Wick of Fillory.” High Queen Margo said, lifting the quite frankly heavy sword off of Fen’s right shoulder.

Sir Fen stood from her kneeling position in front of Margo and bowed her head. Margo took her hand and turned her around to face the crowd as they applauded. She didn’t really know what she was meant to be doing, but this certainly wasn’t it if the side-eyes Quentin and Alice were giving her were anything to go by. To be fair, it did kind of look like they’d just been married.

High King Eliot joined them and took Fen’s other hand, then swiftly whisked them away and inside. The ceremony was over and Quentin and Alice followed them in, doors shutting behind them.

Margo and Eliot both dropped Fen’s hands at the same time— synchronicity was one of the best features of their best-friendship. Fen looked at Margo with her beautiful eyes, awaiting some sort of instruction. It wasn’t really clear to any of them what they were supposed to do now.

“Drinks?” Eliot suggested. “I’ve been working on the Fillorian champagne. It’s nearly ready to be released to the masses."

Quentin was the first to agree, strangely. Or not strangely. Who knew these days. They headed up to the throne room, since where else would they drink? The Banquet Hall somehow seemed too formal. They sat on the steps in front of their thrones and waited while Eliot retrieved his Fillorian champagne. Fen looked nervous. Margo couldn’t tell if it was the champagne or something else.

"I’m not sure what this 'champagne’ is.” She confessed when Eliot returned. He handed her an empty glass from a platter he had them all crammed onto. Then he sat the platter on the steps and poured the champagne into her glass. She jumped back as the bubbles hit her skin.

“It’s like, bubbly wine.” Eliot said as he picked up a glass for himself.

Fen sniffed it as Eliot poured his own, and then he clinked her glass with his and took a sip. Fen nervously did the same. Her face lit up.

Margo, not one to be left out on the fun, snatched up a glass and filled it, taking a big sip. “Yummy, right?” She said to Fen, who nodded and took another sip.

“Right, well, when are you leaving Bambi? Tomorrow?” Eliot interjected. Quentin quietly poured champagne for himself and Alice.

“Tomorrow we set sail. Fen, I’m gonna need you up and at 'em pretty early so we can get it all sorted to leave at 10.” Margo explained.

She was quite excited. This was her first official quest as High Queen of Fillory. She was going to save a Knight! Hopefully.

“Margo, do you know when you’ll be back? We’ve got Royal things coming up soon.” Alice was the one who was on top of all their appointments and requirements. She was the one who had her shit together, unlike the rest of them.

Quentin was too busy being in wonderment over Fillory and Eliot was too busy inventing champagne. And Margo was too busy trying to get other things done around the castle, not that anyone listened to her half the damn time.

“God, I don’t know. It’s like a week’s sail from here, and then there’s the whole rescuing bit, which includes the finding bit, and then we’ll come back.” Alice looked slightly worried. “Look, I’ll send you a rabbit once we get there. Let you know what the situation’s like.”

“Thanks” was all Alice said. She sipped her champagne. Margo knew Alice was kind of annoyed with her; she’d organised this whole quest thing over a matter of days without consulting her once. But whatever. She’d get over it.

Eliot stood. He raised his glass.“ To Fen? To Margo? To the Quest."

♡

Margo stood on the front of the ship. She wasn’t sure that it was called, even though she knew all the parts had names. They’d just set off, and the departure party of Fillorians waved and cried and cheered as they began to sail off into the distance.

Eliot had left her with his usual kiss on the forehead, whispering, "Stay safe, Bambi."

Quentin and Alice gave her a hug each. If Alice was still annoyed it didn’t show. They both wished her well. Quentin told her not to return if she failed, but he was just being melodramatic, acting out some Fillorian Quest Fantasy.

Now it was just her, Fen, Abigail and Rafe, sailing the high seas. And of course the light army, and the crew who knew how to sail, which was vital for getting them anywhere. Margo supposed one of them might know what the front of the ship was called.

"Hey, you! Mr Arms over there!” She called to one of the crew who didn’t look too busy. He had really muscular arms.

“Yes, Your Highness?” He said, approaching her.

“The front of the boat. What is it called?” She asked.

“It is called the Bow, Your Highness."

"Right.” She dismissed him, and he bowed and returned to his post. Fuck. She totally knew that already. It was embarrassing that she had forgotten.

“Margo?” A sweet voice called her.

“Yes, Fen?” Margo clambered down from the bow of the ship. Fen was holding a knife. “Jesus.”

“I’m sharpening my tools. What do you suppose I will need?” The knife made more sense now. It was just that she had been holding it horizontally, pointed mostly at Margo. Fen lowered it, sensing the mistake. “Sorry.”

“You probably can’t go wrong with a sword. And if you’re the kind of girl I think you are, you will have plenty of places to hide knives, yes?” Fen nodded. “That’ll do then."

Margo kind of loved the fact that Fen always had a knife on her person at all times. It made her all the more attractive.

Later on, as the sun was starting to set, Fen found Margo again. Somehow they had not run into each other since earlier. Probably because Fen was busy sharpening her knives.

"Margo. This is for you.” She said, and held out a knife. It was gorgeous. “It was my mother’s."

Jesus. This was almost like a proposal.

"Fen, I can’t take this.” Fen furrowed her brow. “If it was your mother's…."

"No, you need to be able to protect yourself. Just in case something horrible happens."

As if I would let anything horrible happen to you, Margo immediately thought. But that kind of defeated the purpose of Fen being her bodyguard. She reluctantly took the knife. Fen also handed her a strap to hold it in on her thigh. Margo could have screamed. Everything about this was exactly her aesthetic. Fen wordlessly took her leave. Margo didn’t see her for the rest of the night.

♞

Margo woke up abruptly from a dream, early in the morning. It was still dark outside. The dream was already slipping away from her, but she remembered the general vibe: dark, creepy, foreboding. An image of Fen, looking terrified, or surprised, or angry, stuck in Margo’s mind.

What the fuck? Margo lay in her bed, now wide awake, trying to decipher what the fuck just happened.

Prophetic dreams were certainly not her Discipline, but the emotions she was feeling now, still reeling from whatever that dream was, left her feeling like maybe it was. Eventually, the sound of the waves on the side of the boat lulled Margo back into a restless sleep.

♡

The first full day of the Quest was less weird than Margo had anticipated it to be, considering what a strange dream she’d had last night. Fen seemed much more well rested than Margo was. She happily split the first day’s breakfast rations between their party of four, and their limited swordsmen (the crew had their own thing sorted out), which included Abigail because Her Slowness was quite keen on boiled eggs.

Margo was less happy to witness the way Abigail shoved the whole eggs into her mouth, slowly chewing each one, shell and all, for twelve or so minutes. But of course, Fen found it fascinating in her own way. And Rafe adored Abigail so he didn’t mind.

Margo wished they’d brought alcohol.

Fen found her after breakfast. “High Qu- I mean, Margo. Can we talk?” She said, in her soft voice.

“Of course.” Margo replied, and sat down at the breakfast table with her. “What did you want to talk about?”

Fen sat across from her, “Oh, I just wanted to, you know, chat. You know. What’s Earth like?”

They ended up talking the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon away, swapping stories with Fen about their lives and their lands. While Margo had always known her life was mostly breezy, listening to Fen talk humbled her even more, and she felt great luck that it was her who ended up as her knight.

She radiated light despite her life. In the middle of the afternoon, Rafe interrupted, needing to talk to Margo about things somehow more important than Fen’s anecdotes about the strangeness of Fillory. Sadly, she took her leave.

Sailing all day turned out to actually be quite boring. Margo couldn’t believe they had just less than a week more of this to look forward to. By the evening she was casting party trick spells off the edge of the boat; light trails from her fingertips and such. She was that bored.

Fen came and sat next to her.

"That’s quite beautiful.” Margo had made a dancing rabbit in the air from the dwindling sunlight. First Year stuff. Still, Fen was impressed.

“I’m so bored I could cry, Fen.” She said. In a way she hoped Fen could entertain her. But sparring for hours on end really wasn’t Margo’s style. After talking with Fen earlier in the day, she really felt the difference in their upbringings; Margo’s L.A. glory days were in such stark contrast to Fen’s warrior upbringing. Margo admired Fen so much.

Fen put her head on Margo’s shoulder. “You can help me sharpen knives.”

“Jesus. How many did you bring?”

“Enough to get me by.” Margo couldn’t argue with that.

“Thanks again for the knife. It must’ve meant a lot to you?” From talking today, Margo had learned Fen’s mother died while she was still very young.

“I don’t really remember her.” Fen replied, quietly. The horizon was just finishing swallowing up the sun. “Just, you know, good little memories.”

Margo didn’t know what to say. So she rested her head on top of Fen’s. They watched the last rays of sunlight disappear like that.

♞

It was just over half a week since they’d set off. Margo was really getting restless. Along with the utter boredom, she’d dreamt about Fen every night. Now any time she saw Fen, she couldn’t help but think of the expression on her face in those dreams. She’d realised, now, that it was anguish etched on her features.

She could also barely deal with seeing her in general. Fen was so beautiful, and whenever she smiled at Margo, she swore her heart skipped a beat or two. It was only a matter of time before Margo became a blushing fool just from being in her presence. She was really beginning to feel like, although Fen was there to protect her, she would do anything to keep her safe.

A brush of the hand had Margo stuttering when they both reached for the butter on the fourth morning of the trip. Fen’s apologetic smile brought butterflies to Margo’s stomach. Maybe sailing for a week wasn’t so bad.

However, Abigail’s affinity for eggs at breakfast was really starting to annoy Margo. The slow crunch as she ate was going to drive her insane. The worst part was that Fen still found it interesting, which meant Margo had to keep a pleasant face on, trying not to be the bitch who complained about the loud (and sloooow) chewer. Not that had ever really been a problem. But in the midst of her feelings, she didn’t want Fen to dislike her.

The crew decided they were another couple days off from reaching the Island where the Knight supposedly was. But the next part of their trip took them right through Lorian waters. Which was probably the dangerous part.

Margo had prepared some battle magic, a la Kady, just in case it was needed. And she had her knife strapped around her thigh if that failed her. But of course she had Fen before any of that was necessary. Fen was there to protect her.

As the sun reached the middle of the sky, they passed peacefully into Loria.

However, the peace didn’t last long. A Lorian battle ship was approaching across the horizon. They didn’t have a cannon but they had armed men and women ready to fight. Jesus.

Fen, who had been standing on the bow of the ship, hurriedly ran down below deck to get all of her weapons ready. She came back with an arm full of swords.

“Rafe, can you fight?” Rafe’s face fell but he didn’t reply, so she shoved a sword at him. She gave one to each of the crew. Margo had her dagger but still Fen gave her a sword.

Margo asked the crew if there was any way to divert their course, but the waters around the channel were too shallow to do anything. They would be pretty much sailing right by the side of the Lorian ship. Margo wondered how they’d instantly known that someone was in their waters; the islands around them were barren, with no civilisation at all.

Soon enough, the Lorian ship was flush with theirs. As soon as the bows reached each other, the Lorian warriors were jumping onto their deck, and the fighting was immediate. Fen had ordered Margo to take cover under the deck as soon as they were getting close, so she sat on her bed feeling more seasick than ever as the fighting shook the ship. She supposed she was also a bit worried too.

She had her sword and dagger with her in case anything went wrong, but that wasn’t an issue. If she wasn’t High Queen, she would be one hundred percent up on the deck in the thick of the fighting. But even if she weren’t, she wouldn’t want to have to fight now. If she had to fight, all the way down here below deck, that would mean that Fen had been hurt.

And that was something that Margo really didn’t want.

High Queen Margo sat on her bed in the rocking ship for what felt like hours on end, listlessly staring at the wall, waiting for the fighting to stop. Suddenly, a strange fairy-like creature appeared. Margo leapt to her feet, ready to fight, but he simply held up a hand.

“I am a messenger for the faeries. We have come to offer you guaranteed safe passage, for your quest benefits our interests.” He spoke in a calm, low voice. Margo wasn’t sure if she was hallucinating. The sounds of the battle above deck seemed to be getting ever louder.

“No offense, but why?” Margo’s voice was shaky, and her throat hurt because she hadn’t talked aloud for a while.

“We cannot tell you why. But you must make your decision promptly."

"What will it cost?"

"Something important. But nothing as important as the nature of your quest. It will only be a small sacrifice."

Margo wasn’t sure if this was the wisest call. Things didn’t seem to be too dire up there. Although it had been a while. "High Queen Margo, I must tell you; the leader of your army, Bingle, has been stabbed and killed. The Lorians are ruthless. Before long, everyone aboard this boat shall perish. You must decide.”

Trust the person (or faerie) making a deal with you to tell you the worst possible news. But whether it was true or not, Margo couldn’t risk it. “Okay, you have a deal."

The faerie man smiled and vanished.

Margo heard a hoarse cry come from above. She knew instantly it was Fen, and her heart dropped.

♡

The Lorians had rushed off the deck of the Swift as soon as the sword had been thrust into Fen. Now she lay on the wood, bleeding out as Rafe attempted to bandage her up. Margo was holding her hand.

The faeries had taken Fen’s life for safe passage, Margo knew this in her heart. It wasn’t fair. She was crying, and her salty tears fell into Fen’s hair. Fen’s face was pale, and she was barely conscious. She lifted up a hand to wipe away Margo’s tears.

"Do not worry,” she whispered. “It was bound to happen anyway."

And then a faerie appeared. There was no other way to say it; there was quiet and sadness and then, interrupting, there was a faerie.

Both Margo and Fen startled. The faerie was a completely white being, dressed in the tone from head to toe, and their eyes contained deep black irises that swam. Faeries were pretty scary up close. The faerie was all up in their space, intruding on what Margo had thought was a private moment (aside of course from the medic who was treating the wound).

"We offer a deal.” They said simply. Their voice was raspy and their breath was cool.

“Look where our last deal got us!” Margo exclaimed. How dare they return to offer a deal to rectify what they had made wrong! Their deals were just a domino effect. Fen held Margo’s hand in her cold one.

“They tried to take the sloth.” Fen said the words with effort. “Whatever your previous deal was, what they were to gain was the sloth.”

“You can see them? Why? And why would they take Abigail? No offense, but what good is a sloth to faeries?"

"A faerie deal was made on my behalf a very long time ago. My being part of the deal, although unwillingly, means I can see them.”

The faerie tutted impatiently.

“Alright motherfucker. Name your price and I’ll think it over.” Margo was beyond irritated by now.

The faeries were so vague. But if they wanted something so bad, then she was willing to bargain.

“We want what we came for the first time. We want the sloth. As well as interest.” Margo looked over at Abigail. She usually hung on a branch, but now she was on the deck, sitting strangely. She nodded at Margo, slowly.

“Fine. You can take her. If you heal Fen. And if we still get our promised safe passage.” The faerie looked gravely at Margo. Then it disappeared. Then the sight was sucked from Margo’s right eye.

♞

The Island was still a day and a half away, and Margo was ready to lose her shit. She was wearing an eyepatch, since the place where her eye had once been was kind of barren. Although being a Pirate Queen was one of her childhood fantasies, it didn’t make her feel too good.

It was so Not The Point that she was badass. Because it meant she could only see from one fucking eye, and she had to wear an ugly itchy eyepatch for an unforeseeable amount of time. Or for the rest of time.

Fen was well again at least. And now at breakfast, Margo didn’t have to listen to Abigail chewing. But Rafe was depressed over it. He and Abigail were abnormally close, and he couldn’t function without her. So he was basically useless.

Margo sat at the base of the mast, toying with light spells in the midday sun. Fen was training with Rafe, who in the midst of his depression was not turning out to be a good partner to be doing this with.

“Jesus, this is useless.” Margo looked over as Fen snapped at Rafe and threw her sword down. It still highly amused Margo to hear Fillorians exclaim to Jesus or God, but not quite as much as when they unironically said shit like “Umber’s Balls” whenever something went mildly wrong.

Fen stalked over to Margo and sat down next to her. “Rafe is a terrible swordsman. Why is he even here?"

Ever since the encounter with the faeries, Fen had also been highly moody. And clingy to Margo, which was both the best and worst thing.

"I’m sorry, I just really want to make sure I’m ready for whatever we encounter.” Fen said, and she looped her arm around Margo’s and rested her head on her shoulder.

“You’ll be great, Fen. You’re the finest swordswoman I’ve ever seen.” Margo had to do a lot of internal fighting to make that sentence sound normal. She really was quite into Fen.

“Thanks. I’m just a bit scared, really.” Margo didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything, she just listened to the waves. “Do you want to know why I can see the faeries?"

Margo nodded. "If you want to tell me."

"A while ago, my father encountered some trouble, and times were dire. He asked me what I would do to help out, and I said I’d do anything. And then he promised away my firstborn child to the faeries in exchange for success in his business.”

Margo thought she could hear Fen crying into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry Fen.” The lack of informed consent Fen held in her life seemed worrying. Sure, Dint had really helped them out, but poor sweet Fen paid the price for it. Margo stroked Fen’s hair as her tears fell onto her shoulder.

Later that day, Margo found Fen while she was eating an impromptu afternoon tea with Rafe in an attempt to lift his spirits.

“Fen, come with me. Let’s fight.” She was dressed in her best swashbuckling outfit, looking the part of a Pirate Queen completely. Why not embrace that childhood dream.

Fen lit up. “I’ll get my sword."

They sparred up on the deck, and Fen seemed surprised that Margo was any good at it. But she still won every fight, as one would expect the champion of Fillory to do.

They fought till they were worn out. Margo felt proud as Fen told her that she had improved greatly over the course of the afternoon. And she had also managed not to completely fall apart anytime Fen had to touch her to help with her stance or general technique. However she did blush quite a lot when Fen placed a hand on her waist to adjust her stance.

After supper, Fen and Margo sat on the edge of the boat, as they had every night since the first. They’d shared many secrets and embarrassing stories as the light fled from the sky, and Margo always came with a new light trick to impress Fen with, using the dying light of the sun. As the night got on, Fen rested her shoulder once again on Margo’s shoulder, and she was worried she’d be able to-

“I can feel your heartbeat from here,” Fen said, without moving her head away. “It’s pretty erratic. Are you getting nervous about the Quest?”

Margo couldn’t speak. She tried a few words, spitting them out, but mostly they didn’t make sense. Her greatest strength had always been that she was a smooth talker - how had Fen stripped that away from her? Fen lifted her head and looked at Margo softly, curiously. Margo suddenly couldn’t meet her eye.

“Oh,” was all Fen said. And then, gently, she lifted up her hand to hold Margo’s face, and looked her in the eye. All Margo could do was flutter her eyes shut as Fen leaned in to kiss her.

“My Queen?” Rafe intterupted just as Fen’s lips were about to brush hers. “I apologise greatly, but you have received a rabbit from High King Eliot.”

Of fucking course she had. Fen had already dropped her hand, and Rafe was making urgent facial expressions, indicating that Eliot had already sent several and they were piling up on the deck, and the moment was lost.

She hurriedly got up, and went to see what Eliot’s fuss was about. By the time she’d dealt with all that, over various rabbits— Bambi, let us know when you’re getting back, Alice wants to know, Well you can tell Alice she just ruined a moment between me and Fen, Ooh, juicy, text me all the details (Eliot really was a dramatic gay)— Fen had already returned herself to her room.

Margo knew she probably needed space after such an embarrassing ordeal, so she went to bed. She stared at the ceiling, dazed, and finally fell asleep after playing the moment over and over in her head, all the while blushing madly.

In the dead of the night, Margo was woken again from a dream, despite being exhausted from sparring. And from staying up half the night thinking about her and Fen’s near-kiss. She sighed, and then she realised she had been woken because there was a heavy knocking on her door.

What the fuck.

"What?!” She snapped, or tried to, except it came out a little more sleepy and whiny since she had just woken up. Rafe entered, his face grim.

“Your Highness-” He cut himself off. Coughed, then started again. “Your Highness, Sir Fen has gone missing.”

Margo leapt out of her bed. She scrambled to find her eyepatch as Rafe stared at the unnervingly empty space where her right eye should have been.

“Stop staring,” she said as she pulled it on. “Get the crew up. How soon till we reach land?"

"No land for miles. The next land we hit will be the Island."

"Fuck.” Margo said. Then, after a moment of deliberation, “Fuck.”

“My liege, here, this note was found on the deck.” Rafe looked keen to leave the room, and she snatched the letter from his hand and mercifully dismissed him. Margo pulled on a robe over her nightdress and came up above deck to read the note. It turned out to be a page from a book about the legend of the Knight. Which was strange. Margo had figured this had occurred like fifty years before they’d all arrived, but the fact that there seemed to be a legend around it suggested otherwise. It made no sense.

“Rafe.” Margo managed to actually snap this time. “Get me a rabbit.”

♡

Castle Whitespire woke early due to a very loud rabbit screaming at the top of its lungs. High King Eliot really didn’t appreciate the interruption to his beauty sleep.

King Quentin didn’t mind, however, since it was a message for him, and it gave him a purpose for the day.

“Quentin,” it had barked from the base of their bed. “need info on the Knight.”

He’d gotten right out of bed despite the fact that sunlight was barely peeking through the curtains, and headed straight to the Whitespire library. Eliot decided to go back to sleep until the sun was halfway through the sky.

Meanwhile, Quentin roused Tick and requested his help to find any books about the Knight in the library. “We’re looking for anything that mentions a Knight that’s gotten like, lost or left behind, or gone missing. Find all the lore books you can."

Margo’s follow up rabbits had explained that the page she had found was from a medieval style book, whatever Fillory’s equivalent of that was, and had talked super vaguely about the quest in a spiritual sense.

Around noon, Eliot and Alice joined him in his mini library quest. He was deep in a book about the various intricacies of Knighthood in Fillory. Strangely, knights often married into royalty after being wooed by one of their Kings or Queens.

Eliot kissed the top of his head before dramatically flopping into the seat next to him. Alice, who had not been raised at the crack of dawn and was therefore not subject to the same irritability and dramatics, sat down gracefully across from him. She did have an excited glint in her eye, though.

Quentin shut his book. "We’re looking for pretty much any info we can get on the Knight that Margo is questing for, specifically. But we’re mostly looking at all of the books on knights in here, just in case anything useful pops up."

"Sir Fen went missing coincidentally on a Quest that involved rescuing a Knight. Seems ominous?” Eliot added.

Alice was practically vibrating with excitement. “As you all know, I was a Niffin. I never really got to tell you what I did - now I won’t give you all the details. I did some pretty terrible stuff. But Niffins aren’t held by the constraints of time. I went all the way to the start of Fillory. Not to the end, though. I couldn’t go forward.” Quentin quirked an eyebrow. “I saw all kind of wonderful and terrible things. I saw the first sunset. I also saw the first murder. Anyway, way back before even the Chatwins, like two hundred more years at least, a noble of the court was kidnapped.

"During a routine survey of the lands, the Queen’s Knight was taken by the Lorians, put up in a tower until she was either found, or she starved to death. She ended up dying. I saw a few more rounds of this happen, and then I got bored and lived literally underground for years. And then I came back to earth.

"Anyway, is that the sort of Quest Margo is on?"

High King Eliot looked like murder. "Yes, it is exactly the kind of Quest Margo is on. Have you been living under a rock?"

"Actually, I’ve been busy conferring with the people and making legislation to fix this broken country, but sure, I’ve been living under a rock.”

“Hey, guys, it’s okay. Thanks, Alice, for the info. Can you get one of those rabbits for me?” Alice handed him a brown rabbit. “And could you look up books that might mention what you talked about?"

Alice immediately jumped at the chance to leave Eliot’s blast zone. She headed straight for the section on tragedies.

"Hey, El, it’s gonna be okay. Just don’t take it out on Alice, she’s been really busy with her own stuff.” Quentin laid a hand on Eliot’s shoulder and kissed his forehead. “It’ll all be okay.”

♞

Three hours ago, Margo had received a rabbit from Quentin that just said “You’re on a two centuries old quest. More info to come."

More info had not come.

Presumably they were having trouble cracking the second part of the case RE: saving Fen.

Margo was sick of waiting around. Not that she didn’t trust her friends, she just really hated missing out on the action. There was about another day still until they reached the Island.

Until then, there was really nothing to be done. Margo had already prepared as much as she could for fighting, and had prepared the few swordsmen they’d brought on board for the possible troubles they may face.

A rabbit plonked onto the deck, just to the right of Margo.

"Need to break curse,” it barked. That was all. How cryptic Quentin could be. Another rabbit appeared, nearly hitting the other one.

“Clarification: Need to break the Lorians’ curse. Alice.” While Margo was glad to know Alice had not only pulled herself out of whatever it was was doing to help her, she still had no idea what the fuck they meant.

“They cursed the faerie’s island!” Another rabbit yelled from her left. “Love, Eliot.”

Margo smiled. At least she could still count on Eliot. She picked up the page and reread it. Now that she had the extra info, she was able to decode more of the oldspeak (Old Fillorian was even more ridiculous than Old English). Now, she realised, the Island was part of the faeries empire, or it had been until the Lorians stole it, cursed it and barred the faeries from coming within a few miles of it.

The curse had also involved kidnapping Fillorian knights. On the other side, there was a picture of an anguished-looking Knight. Margo sighed.

Rafe was sitting by the mast, looking more depressed and hopeless than before. This really was unworkable. Half the swordsmen they’d brought were injured, and Bingle was indeed dead. The morale of the remaining few was low. Even the ship’s crew were bouncing about with less energy.

The only upside would have been the three less mouths to feed, but any extra food was being rationed between the injured, to aid their healing. They’d only brought about 30 swordsmen anyway, so now Margo would be leading an army of 15 onto the Island to hopefully rescue Fen and break the Lorian’s curse.

At least now Margo knew why the faeries had cut those deals with them; they wanted their land back. And while she wasn’t fond of the faeries, they had helped them out in the end, even if it hadn’t seemed like it at the time. But whatever. Margo’s main focus going into the next day was to save Fen at all costs. She studied the page again, but found no answer to aid her in breaking the curse and freeing Fen. She didn’t even know why Fen had been taken. Unless she was the very Knight they’d set out to rescue?

“Hey, Rafe?” She called. He looked at her, with an expression on his face that gave her no hope at all. “Come here you sad sack. I have a question.”

Rather forlornly, he made his way to her. “Yes, Your Highness?” He bowed.

These days, Margo hated it when he did that, so she hit his head with the page before shoving it under his nose.

“Theories on how to save Fen?” She asked. “I’m thinking she’s coincidentally the Knight we have to save.”

“Well, Your Highness, Fillorian curses are often tricky like this. Perhaps every so often the curse needs to be fed, as such, or needs a sacrifice.”

“So if we don’t save Fen she’ll die?? And the curse will just come around again at some point??” Margo was beyond frustrated. This stupid Quest. This stupid curse. She wished she could go back in time and ignore Tic when he brought up the missing Knight, like she did most times he talked to her. But the image of being a hot, swashbuckling pirate wouldn’t leave her mind until she agreed to embark on the quest. Fuck.

“That seems to be the case.” Rafe agreed. “May I take my leave now?”

Margo glared at him. “No. I get you’re wallowing in self-pity, but so am I. Keep me company.”

Rafe reluctantly sat next to Margo. She ended up explaining magic theory to him, partly because he’d asked, but mostly to keep her mind off certain circumstances that couldn’t be changed. Such as being stuck in the middle of the fucking ocean while someone who had become a great deal important to Margo was stuck in captivity by a Lorian curse.

The theory lessons tided them over to sundown, but that night Margo quietly cried herself to sleep. She wasn’t proud of it or anything, but their situation was becoming increasingly stressful and she low-key high-key missed Fen. Talking to Rafe was fucking boring, but Fen was amazing and beautiful and interesting and Margo missed her. Margo felt so helpless and sad that she just cried and cried until she fell into a sleep deeper than she’d ever slept before.

♡

The next morning, Margo woke feeling more ready for anything than she ever had. It wasn’t something she would ever admit out loud, but taking Quentin’s advice and having a good cry once in a while was really reinvigorating. She’d dreamt of nothing, but now that it was the day they were projected to land, she felt so much more confident.

Around mid-morning, land had been sighted, and by mid-afternoon, they had nearly reached the shore. Margo had been rallying the troops for the whole day. The previous day they’d trained, but she didn’t want them to exert themselves too much before the day that lay ahead, so she mostly gave them a very firm pep talk and told them to stretch so that no further injuries would be sustained. Also so that Margo could sit back and admire the muscly men in front of her.

Rafe had already been put in charge of staying on board the ship and looking after the injured swordsmen while the ship’s crew volunteered to venture onto the Island with her. Over the week, all the troops and ship’s crew had grown quite fond of Fen, and decided they would do anything to rescue her alongside their High Queen.

The terrain of the Island looked more barren than Margo had expected. It was mostly flat sand plains, but to the West was a strangely lush looking garden. The lushness of the garden was only strange in the context of the barrens - from the faeries, she would have expected the whole thing to have been full of beautiful (and possibly dangerous) plants. Not knowing anything about faerie plants, Margo had decided to avoid that part as much as they could before they’d even reached the Island.

Fen was supposedly locked up in a tower somewhere, probably starving, and probably very, very scared and confused. The Island wasn’t very big, and theoretically they would have covered its surface area by the end of the day, especially if they didn’t have to venture into that garden. So Margo, dressed in her best adventuring gear, complete with Fen’s knife strapped to her thigh and a small (very small) army backing her up, ventured onto land for the first time in a week to rescue her Knight.

What she didn’t anticipate was the jarring feeling of standing on solid, fixed ground after a week at sea. Her body swayed of its own accord, since the ground wasn’t doing it for her, and she fell ass-first into the sand. One of the swordsmen rushed to catch her but ended up falling over too, and out of the corner of her eye she saw more of the men cautiously walking to catch up to her, wondering if the uneasiness of their legs was a magical booby trap or the side effects of a ship based quest.

The ship’s crew, however, was used to this, and strode confidently forward, the most handsome one reaching a hand out to Margo to help her up. So much for getting in a good start to the journey. She took his hand and stood up, brushing off the sand.

She started walking straight ahead. Everyone had already been briefed; the goal for today was to cover as much land as possible. The Island had looked a manageable size before they’d landed, but now, walking on the actual earth, it felt so much bigger, and the task felt so much harder. After about ten minutes of walking, Margo was already feeling blanketed by dread and doubt.

The atmosphere on the Island was really strange, and sometimes Margo felt as though she was walking through a dream. It was also super hot, even though there were plenty of clouds in the sky. Even when one passed over the sun, it still felt as though it was bearing down over them heavily. Lucky Margo’s linen rescuing-a-Knight outfit was super breathable.

As they covered more and more ground, and the sun hung lower and lower in the sky while still not laying off the heat, Margo grew only more determined. They’d covered most of the barren desert, with no sighting of the tower.

By the time they returned to their starting point, Margo was about ready to charge into the scary fae garden, but her men warned her not to; with the sun nearly gone, who knew what foreign and terrifying creatures would be lurking in there.

Of course, this only made Margo more determined, because Fen was in there. It took a lot of convincing from Rafe that she would be safe from the horrors in her tower, and even after she agreed to set up camp, he posted a swordsman outside her tent in case she decided to go running off.

What Rafe didn’t consider was that all the swordsmen were very tired. In the middle of the night, still dressed and carrying as many weapons as she could (she still had knuckle dusters and pepper spray from earth, of course, and she had found that someone had brought throwing stars, and a bow and arrow) she stealthed away in the direction of the garden. She was just about to enter when she heard footsteps behind her.

“My Queen-”

“Rafe, c’mon, you’re not convincing me not to do this.” Margo rolled her eye. The effect was decidedly more creepy than rolling two eyes. Rafe sighed.

“My Queen, I know this. Just let me come with you.” He brought a hand from behind his back, and Margo saw he was holding a flail. “It is dangerous to go alone. Let me be your lookout.”

Margo was genuinely touched. She’d always assumed that the people of Fillory secretly hated her, secretly hated all of them, including their own staff. For Rafe to be offering his support…

She suddenly threw her arms around him, conscious of the fact that he had a flail in his hand, and hugged him. She was so relieved that she wouldn’t be rescuing Fen on her own. Although she’d been intent on going tonight, her crew were all exhausted.They all adored Fen, but they were not driven by the same urge that Margo was. So it was nice to know someone had her back. Rafe shifted awkwardly, and she let him go.

“Right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

♞

The garden was actually quite beautiful. It conserved some of the heat of the day, just enough to take the chill off, and was full of gorgeous plants that Margo had never seen before. Flowers taller than trees. Butterflies smaller than Margo’s fingernail. Nothing dangerous or toxic or ugly in this paradise.

No wonder the faeries wanted it back. It was truly Utopia. But Margo’s heart was set on one thing, and plants parted way for her as if they knew this. She could fully appreciate their beauty later, but for now, she had to find Fen.

A shrill birdsong sounded, and it made Margo feel comforted. And then it made her feel scared, because she knew a faerie trick when she saw (heard) one. The rest of the garden had seemed reasonable, but come to think of it, she’d started following the path the plants carved for her rather than making her own. Which was not only uncharacteristically Margo, but also very worrying within the context. She stopped in her tracks, Rafe nearly crashing into her.

“This is too suss….” Margo said, looking around. “Do you even know what direction we’ve been heading in?”

Rafe shook his head. Margo pulled out her compass. The needle spun in every direction.

“My Queen, faerie magic is strong in their natural habitat. Even if they haven’t been here for decades, centuries even… In that case, it is likely that it has run wilder than ever before,” Rafe explained. He inspected his own compass, and then threw it back into his pocket in annoyance. Margo nodded.

“From now on, we keep alert and make our own path. The faeries are stakeholders in this Quest, so they would never intentionally sabotage us, but we still need to keep aware of any stray magic.” Margo announced this while staring at all the plants around them. No reaction, but she didn’t know what she expected. For them to bow their heads in shame?

“What direction now, my Queen?” Rafe asked after a beat.

Margo shrugged, and searched for the light of the moon through the plants, not sure of how it would help, but still figuring it would be something. Unsuccessful, she ended up pointing in a random direction and started plowing her way through, the plants no longer moving out of her way as she delved in further with Rafe following behind her, wading through leaves and stalks and roots.

They walked endlessly and in silence. Margo focused her mind on Fen, keeping her thoughts clear and on her goal. As dawn broke, Margo looked around and realised that even if they found Fen right now, it would probably take them half the day to retrace their steps, and suddenly she collapsed in a heap.

Rafe, noting that it was exhaustion more than distress, quickly followed her to the ground. He sat with his legs crossed as she lay on the cool dirt. Her Knight-saving outfit was surely ruined, but who even cared anymore.

He pulled bread and butter and sugar from the small bag he was storing his flail in. Margo sighed; that was exactly what she needed. And water. Water, which Rafe also pulled from his bag. The man was a lifesaver.

She practically inhaled the bread and washed it down with big gulps of water, not caring about any kind of High Queen dignity. Revitalised, she jumped up, ready to keep going. They were on the home stretch; she could feel it.

The sun was peeking through the leaves, and as it lit up the garden, Margo spotted it in the far distance: the Tower. Thankfully it didn’t look as threatening as the way she’d imagined, which had of course been the tarot card with all the lightening and sharp rocks. In fact, it looked pretty sturdy, and not too high. Rafe stood, and immediately looked in the same direction as Margo, before smiling brighter than he had since Abigail had left. Or rather, been taken hostage by the faeries.

As the day paraded on, so did they. No obstacles fell in their way— the garden seemed to sense it was about to be saved. The Tower was getting closer and closer, until they were standing in its shade at midday.

“Fen?” Margo called. “FEN?”

No response. Rafe stepped forward and circled the Tower, poking his head back around. “There’s a door.”

Margo all but ran to the door, jerking it open. Nothing would stop her from reaching-

She stopped in her tracks. A bear of a man stood in her way, and she recognised him instantly. He was twice as tall as her, wielding two swords and snarling.

“Humbledrum?” She asked.

He only growled in reply. He seemed somewhat in a trance, eyes glassy and mouth drooling. She supposed he, as part of the whole curse, had been brought here. It made sense, in a way, as he’d been Fen’s last opponent before she proved herself as Margo’s Knight. Now, spit dribbling from his slack mouth and eyes glazed over but staring straight at Margo, he lurched forward, swinging his swords around willy-nilly and nearly knocking Margo over as she stumbled back out of his swords’ reach. She reached for one of her swords and swung it at him, gashing his arm, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He thrust a sword at her, and she only just managed to block it as she struggled up from the floor, using one hand to lift her sword and the other to cling onto Rafe for support. As Humbledrum cut the swords through the air, Rafe flailed the flail at him, hitting him in the face, but largely having no impact other than drawing blood.

Humbledrum’s sword cut Margo’s arm as he drew back and as she gasped in pain, he attempted to strike her again, only stopping as-

As Fen, behind him, hit him on the head with a pan. Margo quickly threw her a sword, after a second of staring at her in awe. She looked tired, and a bit roughed up, but mostly she looked relieved - to see Margo, to be rescued.

She tapped Humbledrum on the shoulder and he turned to her. A scowl on her face, she whipped the sword towards him - Margo covered her face, not wanting to look, but she could hear her scream “take that!” as she hit him. He fell to the ground, and as Margo lowered her arm from her face, she was met with an armful of Fen, hugging her tighter than she’d imagined possible.

“Thank you,” she whispered, drawing back to look at Margo. “Thank you.”

Then, she held Margo’s face in her hands, ever so gently, and kissed her. Finally. Margo kissed her back, tears streaming down both their faces, only pulling away to whisper, “Anything for you, my brave Knight.”

♡

A week later, High Queen Margo and her brave Sir Fen returned to Fillory. A return party waited for them on the docks, consisting of Eliot, Quentin, Alice, some members of the court and a strange faerie that, of course, only Margo and Fen could see.

Margo could tell Fen was uneasy about her presence, so she held her hand as they were embraced by the party. Eliot had brought champagne, and Fen scrunched her nose adorably as the bubbles hit her skin. As they all headed back up to Whitespire, Margo hung back to see what this faerie wanted with them.

It turned out she was the faerie Queen, and was returning Margo’s eye, and Abigail.

“We thank you for your bravery in restoring our land. Since the Lorians took it over, we have been displaced, but now, we are working on revitalising it to become our home once more.

“In light of this, I would like to return your eye-” Margo suddenly felt a rushing feeling, and she ripped off her eye patch immediately. “-I would also like to return your sloth. She was very helpful.”

The faerie Queen dumped Abigail into Margo’s arms and disappeared. Fen came up behind her, and nearly shocked Margo into dropping the sloth.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going up to the celebration?”

“I saw the faerie Queen, and suddenly I realised why they needed Abigail.” Fen replied, dropping a hand onto Margo’s shoulder and moving her to walk up to the castle. “The Queen has been dead for a number of years now. Sloths can travel to the underworld. Therefore…”

Margo nodded in understanding as they reached the open gates. The people of Fillory were all there, having a big party for their return. Rafe saw Margo from across the room, and immediately sprinted to her, darting through people and nearly knocking over an old lady.

“Oh my God, she’s back.” He said, chest heaving, and he scooped her out of Margo’s arms and dashed off again without so much as a thanks.

Margo and Fen looked at each other at the same time, same befuddled expression painted on both their faces, and burst into laughter. Fen brought their foreheads together, smile dazzling, and then she pressed her lips again to Margo’s. Eliot and Quentin, and surprisingly Alice, danced around them, holding open bottles of champagne, and Margo couldn’t have been happier than she was in that moment. She rested her forehead against Fen’s again, and she couldn’t have stopped smiling if she’d tried.

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