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artificial-transmutations · 1 year

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Rick's Reality

Richard Thompson, or "Rick" as he was known to everyone in his small Midwestern town, had always been a figure of certainty. A solid, unchanging monument amidst a world that was too often in flux. His voice, amplified by the local radio, was a constant stream of opinions and advice that echoed through the homes and cars of his listeners each weekday morning.

Rick was an imposing man, in both stature and belief. Standing tall at six feet two inches, with broad shoulders and a deep, resonant voice, he was the picture of traditional, rural masculinity. His dark hair was always neatly combed, his clothes crisp and clean, and his boots spotless despite the dust and mud of the local landscape.

His radio show, "Rick's Reality," was a beacon for conservative values and traditional perspectives. It was a platform from which he would confidently espouse his views, his deep baritone voice resonating with a fervor that drew in even the most reluctant listener. Rick had a particular disdain for the LGBTQ+ community, seeing them as a challenge to his idea of 'normal.'

"There's a certain way of life, a right and a wrong," Rick would assert, his voice crackling over the airwaves. "Men are men, women are women. That's how God intended it."

Rick had been born and bred in this town, his life as firmly rooted as the old oak tree in the town square. A divorced father of one, his life was a well-trodden path of work, hunting, fishing, and beer with his buddies at Joe's Bar.

That Monday, Rick sat behind the microphone in his small studio, a cup of black coffee steaming beside him. He had a familiar fire in his belly, the one that fueled his daily tirades. Today, his ire was directed towards immigrants and the LGBTQ+ community.

"Folks," he began, his voice stern and unwavering, "our great nation is being undermined. We've got immigrants coming in, not respecting our culture, our way of life. And then we got these... these... folks who can't decide if they're men or women or want to marry their own kind. It's a disgrace, I tell ya."

The phone lines were lighting up, as they always did during his heated monologues. He gestured to his assistant, who patched through a caller.

"You're on 'Rick's Reality', what's your reality today?" Rick asked, a smug grin on his face.

"Hello, Rick," the caller began, their voice calm, measured, and anonymous. "I've been listening to your show for a while. I've heard your views on immigrants and the LGBTQ+ community. I wonder, have you ever challenged your beliefs? Have you ever tried to see life from their perspective?"

Rick was taken aback. He was used to angry rebuttals and passionate agreements, but this? This was new. He stuttered, before finding his footing. "Well, I... I know what's right. And it's my job to stand up for what's right."

"But what if 'right' is subjective, Rick?" the caller continued. "What if the 'right' you know is not the only 'right'? Have you ever considered that?"

Rick was angry. Angry enough to hang up. But something stopped him. He knew he needed more information about this mysterious caller. So, he stayed on the line, listening intently as the caller continued.

"I'm just curious, Rick," the caller said, "what would happen if you met someone who thought differently than you do? Wouldn't that be interesting? What if they didn't think like you did?"

"I'd punch them out," Rick replied. "I don't need no faggot or immigrant around me thinking he's better than me."

"Interesting," the caller mused. "So, you wouldn't try to understand them? You wouldn't try to learn from them?"

"Nope," Rick said. "I'd punch them out." He had enough of the caller and cut the line. This was ridiculous, why did people with these deviant opinions even bother calling into his show? He had to get back to ranting about the evils of immigration and the perils of same-sex marriage.

He returned to his monologue, but his mind wandered. He couldn't shake the strange feeling he had when talking to that caller. Their words had struck a chord within him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was like a small voice in the back of his mind that was so very different from himself, that was curious about what that guy had said, curious about the very idea of being different. It was only miniscule though, and Rick quickly dismissed it, continuing his show.

The rest of the callers were good, normal people calling. People agreeing with him and encouraging him. The day went by smoothly until the end of his shift. He was heading home in the bright noon sun, when he felt like he could do something different today. The route he usually took when walking home was down the main street, passing Joe's bar and into the residential area with the neatly trimmed lawns where he lived. There was, however, another route, a quicker one that went through the bad parts of the town. The parts where those Latino gardeners and pool boys lived, where there were shady clubs and even the dreaded local 'rainbow' scene. Normally, Rick wouldn't even think about entering those parts of town, but the comment from earlier was still gnawing at his mind. Perhaps he should take that way today, just to see how much better life was when you were normal. There was nothing going to happen, after all. If he met anyone who bothered him, he'd just punch them.

So, Rick turned off the main road, making his way towards the seedy part of town. As he walked past the bars and strip joints, he saw men and women going about their businesses or sitting around, taking a break and smoking a cigarette. So far, nothing out of the ordinary except the slightly darker skin color of most people here. He passed a few men playing socker in an alleyway between buildings. A man sat on a bench outside a corner store, drinking a beer and watching some kids play basketball nearby. He made eye contact with a woman wearing a tight red dress as she exited a convenience store carrying bags full of groceries. She was probably wondering why he came here - a question he asked himself.

He kept walking, trying to ignore the looks he was getting as he got closer to the gay district. Well, district was a bit much. There was a bar and a club with rainbow flags in the windows, nothing more.

The bar was closed, as it was just noon. However, the club was apparently open, which was surprising considering the time of day. Rick stopped. Maybe he should go inside. There would probably no patrons in there and he was kind of curious what that godless place looked from the inside.

He pushed open the door to the club and stepped inside. The place was empty, as he thought, apart from a bartender cleaning up. The guy was a fairly muscular and about the same age as Rick and greeted him with a friendly smile.

"Oh hi! Welcome to Club Rage!" he said. "What can I get you?"

"I don't want anything", Rick said with a reserved tone. He didn't even want to speak to that guy, but now that he was in here, that seemed to be less and less of an option.

"Ah, then you're here for the job opening!" the other man beamed. "Name's Miguel by the way."

Of course, an immigrant, Rick grimaced. "Richard." he said noncommittally.

"Good! I didn't expect someone like you to apply, but sure, let's see what you've got! Follow me!"

Why didn't Rick just say he wasn't interested in the job, whatever it was?

Miguel led him to the big dance floor of the place and pointed to an elevated cage with a pole in it. "This would be your workplace."

Rick looked at him dumbfounded. "What did you say was that job again?", he asked cautiously.

"You'll be dancing," Miguel replied. "It's not a difficult job, trust me. You won't have any trouble keeping up with the crowd. Come on, show me some moves, Richard!". He patted the cage floor with his hand.

Rick wanted to say a lot of things, shout at the guy or storm out of here, but another part of his brain saw this as an opportunity. There was no one here but Miguel to see him and he would never, ever do something like that again, so he might as well try it once.

Rick nodded slowly and hoisted himself up into the cage with some effort. Miguel was looking up to him expectantly and Rick tried some careful, stiff dance steps.

It must have looked ridiculous, but Miguel was nodding. "Yeah... you need some beat, man. Hold on."

Miguel disappeared for a moment and shortly after, a driving, thumbing rhythm filled the room, way too loud for the empty room.

When Miguel reappeared, he gave Rick thumbs up: "Okay, Rick! Try it with this!"

The rhythm actually helped a bit, and Rick found it easier to get into it. His dance moves became more sweeping and quickly, Rick was sweating from the unfamiliar workout.

Apparently, Miguel had also noticed and shouted from below: "Come on! Show me that body a bit, don't be shy!"

Rick gritted his teeth and moved his hips faster, feeling the sweat running down his face. He could hear the music pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else. He felt good about himself, better than he'd done in years. While dancing, he unbuttoned his shirt and quickly disposed of it. His torso was looking different from what he was used to: It was smoothly shaven and more toned - not trained or muscular but toned and lean. His skin had a darker complexion than he was used to, and the glistening sweat gave his moves a smooth and fluid quality.

Down below, Miguel was cheering. "Yeah, come on, Rico boy! Use the pole!"

Rick, no, Rico shook his head and smiled. While he grabbed the pole with his right hand, his left hand unbuttoned his pants, in a well-practiced movement. As he twirled around the pole, he used an upward movement to strip the pants completely from his legs, revealing his very tight purple hotpants that accentuated his bulge nicely. Rico noticed that Miguel was clapping to the beat now and decided to give him a special show, turning around and shaking his ass to the rhythm right above Miguel’s face. Rico smiled. He had no doubt that he would get the job - he was just so damn good at it. Every man loved him, and he knew how to hone and groom his body to just tease them the right way. He was a living wet dream, with both an impressive ass and an ample bulge in the front of his pants that he knew just how to shake in a way that made the patrons drool. A boner factory, an ex-boyfriend of his had called him, and there was something very true about it.

Finally, Rico finished his gig and slid down the pole without even panting much, planting an impish kiss on Miguel’s mouth. He couldn't resist to cup the other man's groin with his hand meanwhile... yep, he was going to get that job.

Ricardo Torres was happy - this would be perfect for him, a chance to put his body to good use and get familiar with this new town quickly. Besides, that Miguel guy was really cute, perhaps it was time for a new boyfriend in this new town!

#male transformation #racial transformation #straight to gay #muscle transformation

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keefwho · 7 months

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November 02 - 2023 Thursday

10:47pm

This morning I had left over rice a roni with a slice of pepperjack cheese in it and it was very good. The stream went well. I did some sketches and 570rm said it was refreshing to see sketches again now that Inktober is over. I didn't have a commission lined up yet so I drew a shitpost of Celestia that ended up doing well. Daisy joined but Piczel was having problems so she couldn't stay long. After stream I was looking for something to clean and I asked my dad if I could remove the heater in the fireplace finally. He said yes so I looked it over and made sure everything was safe before removing it completely on my own. Then I got a bucket and wiped down the entire area after picking up all the leftover ash and garbage that was hidden behind the heater. It looks nice but doesn't really feel different. Lunch was a pizza that I put broccoli on. During afternoon work I told Egg I'd be in her server at this time more often since it seems like when we both work and she actually joined today. We talked about Fionna and Cake and other cartoons, and personal past drama regarding unsavory individuals. It was nice while I worked. I did today's request and made a NNN pic of my otter in my goofy wooden cage. I mentioned how cool and amazing it was that her and her girlfriend live together and she told me they'd been best friends since elementary school which was even more amazing. Thats definitely not common. When we were done I left to work on rigging my otter for animation so I can do something lewd with it, just to try. It took awhile to figure it out but I understand how to use inverse kinematics on a basic level and I think I'm ready to render a simple animation. After that I hopped on Legendary Tales to pass some time and thats when Daisy called. I played that on webcam with her before hopping out of it for dinner while we watched She Ra. We watched more She Ra when she went to bed and talked real deep about some things. Now I'm getting to bed just about on time. I know how important sleep is for my workouts now.

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

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The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 30

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 30 - This Venerable One Doesn't Want to Eat Tofu

"Hey, hey, did you hear? Elder Yuheng violated the sect rules. As punishment, he has to kneel in Yanluo Hall for three days."

In the morning class the next day, the disciples gathered on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil to practice and meditate. In the end, they are all teenagers and 20-year-olds, and they couldn't just do as they were told. If a master wasn't paying attention, they'll start whispering and gossiping.

The news that Chu Wanning had been punished quickly spread.

The disciples who witnessed the beating yesterday were not shy about sharing the gossip with others.

"Wow, why are you guys finding out about it so late? Oh . . . So yesterday Elder Lucun took you up the mountain to collect night dew flowers? Well then - you guys really missed out on a lot! Yesterday evening, in the Qingtian Temple, there was flesh and blood flying everywhere. It was horrible. Elder Yuheng was beaten with more than two hundred strikes! More than two hundred strikes! Not a single one missed! There was no mercy!"

The disciple made a particularly exaggerated expression every time he said a new sentence. No need to mention the show he was putting on for all his junior brothers and sisters surrounding him.

"Do you actually count all two hundred strikes? Even a big man could be killed, not to mention Elder Yuheng. He couldn't stand it and passed out. This made our young master mad. He rushed in and fought with Elder Jielu. He said not to lay another finger on Elder Yuheng. Ah, that scene—"

His facial features were wrinkled up like a steamed bun. He squeezed his eyebrows. Finally, he stretched out a finger, swaying from side to side, and summed it up in three words:

"Tsk tsk task."

Immediately, a younger sister disciple paled: "What! Elder Yuheng fainted?"

"Young Master and Elder Jielu got into a fight?"

"It's no wonder I didn't see Elder Yuheng in this morning class . . . so pitiful . . . what crime did he commit?"

"I heard that he beat a civilian in a fit of rage."

". . ."

Such gossips drifted into Xue Meng's ears from time to time. Life-Death Peak's young master had completely inherited his shizun's temper, so he was very irritable. It was unfortunate that more than one person was gossiping about this. There were groups all over the Platform of Righteousness and Evil, all muttering "Elder Yuheng was punished" and so on. It made him feel so irritated, but there was nothing he could do.

In one corner was Xue Meng, veins bulging on his forehead, and in the other was Mo Ran, unable to stop yawning.

Xue Meng couldn't direct his anger anywhere else, so he viciously spat at Mo Ran: "The plan of the day relies on the morning. You dog, you're so lazy in the morning! What has Shizun been teaching you?"

"Huh?" Mo Ran said with sleepy eyes followed by another big yawn. "Xue Meng, that's enough. I can handle Shizun's lecturing. Who do you think you are? I'm your cousin. Behave yourself when you talk with your cousin. Don't be so rude."

Xue Meng said fiercely: "My cousin is a dog. Be whatever you want to be!"

Mo Ran laughed: "You're so mean. If you don't look out for your elder sect brother, think about how disappointed Shizun will be once he finds out."

"You still have the audacity to mention Shizun! Let me ask you, when he went to the Court of Discipline yesterday, why didn't you stop him?"

"MengMeng, he's a shizun. Yuheng of the Evening Sky, Beidou Immortal. What did you want me to do?"

Xue Meng was furious. He drew his sword, his sharp eyebrows furrowed angrily: "What the hell did you call me?!!!"

Mo Ran's grin stretched from ear to ear: "Be good, MengMeng. Sit down."

Xue Meng bellowed: "Mo Weiyu, I'll kill you!!"

Shi Mei was caught between the two, listening to their daily bickering. He couldn't help sighing. He silently held the edge of his forehead, trying to concentrate on reading his book: "The sun and the moon are poured in the pot* when the spiritual core is first formed. The way of heaven cannot be interpreted, and life and death are involved in the process. . ."

*(T/N: 日月壶中灌 - referring to the Daoist practice of leisurely inactiveness)

Three days passed in the blink of an eye and Chu Wanning's period of reflection came to an end.

According to the rules, the next thing he had to face was a three-month grounding period. During this period of time, he could not leave Life-Death Peak and needed to go to Mengpo Hall to do miscellaneous chores, clean the corridor pillars of Naihe Bridge, sweep the steps in front of the mountain gate, and so on.

Elder Jielu was anxious: "Elder Yuheng, to be honest, I don't think you should do these things. You are the best shizun of your generation. Doing this kind of dishwashing and floor cleaning . . . it feels wrong." He trailed off, leaving half the sentence unsaid --

The main reason is that the old man doubts whether you can even sweep floors, cook and wash clothes!

Chu Wanning didn't doubt himself at all and went to report to Mengpo Hall in an orderly manner.

All of Mengpo Hall, from the chief steward to the servant, was shocked to hear that Chu Waning was coming to do hard labour. They were terrified, as if they were approaching the enemy.

Chu Wanning, dressed in white, arrived in a flutter.

His handsome face was cold and calm, completely expressionless. If you added an auspicious cloud under his feet and a whisk between his arms, he would've looked like the picture-perfect immortal.

Manager Meng Potang felt very ashamed and uneasy. He was actually supposed to make such a beautiful man wash vegetables and cook.

Chu Wanning didn't have the self-image of being a beautiful man. He stepped into the kitchen and coldly swept his gaze over the crowd, who couldn't help but take a step back.

". . ." Chu Wanning was straightforward. "What should I do?"

The chief steward coyly pinched the edge of his hem and thought about what he should say. He cautiously went with: "How does this elder feel about washing vegetables?"

Chu Wanning said: "Okay."

The chief steward was greatly relieved. He originally thought that Chu Wanning led a very pampered life. He might be reluctant to do this kind of labour, however, all the other jobs were either dirty and tiring or required some skill. He was worried that Chu Wanning wouldn't be able to do a good job. Since Chu Wanning easily agreed to wash the vegetables, he didn't need to worry about it.

As it turns out, the chief steward was really naive.

There was a clear stream in front of Mengpo Hall. Chu Wanning went to the stream with a basket of green vegetables. He rolled up his sleeves and began to wash the vegetables.

This area is under the jurisdiction of Elder Xuanji. Occasionally a disciple of the Xuanji sect passed by. He saw Chu Wanning actually washing vegetables and was so scared that he couldn’t even get a word out. He rubbed his eyes three or four times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He said in astonishment: "Elder Yu-Yuheng -- good-good morning."

Chu Wanning raised his eyes: "Good morning."

Elder Xuanji's disciples shivered and fled.

". . ."

Chu Wanning didn't bother to talk with them and continued with his business. He broke the leaves, washed them, and threw them back into the basket.

He washed them very carefully. He broke each vegetable leaf apart, repeatedly brushing them thoroughly. The consequence of that was -- come noon, the basket of vegetables still hadn't been washed.

The man waiting in the dining room was anxious, pacing around in circles: "What should we do? Why hasn't the elder come back yet? If he doesn't come back with the vegetables, how are we going to make the stir-fried beef and vegetables?"

The chief steward looked at the sun and said: "Forget it. Hurry, let's replace it with braised beef."

So, when Chu Wanning returned, Mengpo Hall had already served the beef. The stew was so crispy and flavourful that there was no need for vegetables at all. Chu Wanning frowned. He held his vegetables, rather unhappily, and coldly asked: "If you didn't want the vegetables, why did you make me wash them?"

The chief steward's hairs stood on end. He wiped the cold sweat on his forehead with his handkerchief and said something that he regretted: "That's not it. I was thinking you could make a pot of stewed tofu with vegetables?"

Chu Wanning had no expression. Still holding his vegetables, he tilted his head and pondered silently: ". . ."

The chief steward hurriedly said: "If you don't want to, that's alright--"

He hadn't even finished speaking before Chu Wanning asked: "Where is the tofu?"

Chief Steward: ". . ."

"Elder Yuheng, do you . . . know how to cook?"

Chu Wanning said: "I'm not completely ignorant. I'll give it a try."

At noon that day, all the disciples happily entered Mengpo Hall as usual in groups, looking for somewhere to sit. Then, they headed to the counter to get their food served.

There was no shortage of food on Life-Death Peak. The food had always been plentiful and today was no exception.

The braised beef was fatty and lean, the fish shreds were vibrant and rich, the farmhouse pork was golden and crispy, and the chopped pepper fish was red and tempting. The disciples rushed to grab their favourite foods, lining up around the hall, asking the chef to add a spoonful of sweet and sour pork ribs to them, pour some marinade on the rice, or add some spicy sauce.

The ones who always made it to the front of the line first were Elder Lucun's disciples. The little guy at the head of the line had a big pimple on his nose. All he had on his mind was some Mapo Tofu. He skillfully carried the wooden tray to the last counter without raising his eyes and said: "Shizun, I'd like a bowl of tofu."

The shizun, with pale, slender fingers, handed him a plate full of tofu.

However, it wasn't the Mapo Tofu he was familiar with. Instead, it was a plate of strange food with a charred black colour and indistinguishable ingredients.

The disciple was surprised: "What is that?"

"Tofu boiled with bok choy."

Mengpo Hall was full of people, so the disciple didn't pay attention to answering the other person's voice. He said angrily: "Are you an alchemist? Can you even call this tofu with vegetables? I don't want it. Take it back!"

While cursing, he glared at the shizun there. As a result, when he saw the person standing behind the counter, the disciple screamed in fright and almost knocked the tray over.

"Elder Yu-Yuheng!"

"Hmm."

The disciple was on the verge of tears: "No, that's not what I - I didn't mean that just now. I. . ."

"Since you're not eating it, I'll take it back." Chu Wanning said blankly, "Don't waste it."

The disciple stiffly picked up the plate, handed it to Chu Wanning then left with his tail between his legs.

In a short while, everyone knew that Elder Yuheng was standing at the last counter, so the originally lively Mengpo Hall was suddenly silent.

The disciples lined up like a pack of puppies, and they hurriedly grabbed their food, panicked. They went up to the last counter respectfully, greeted the elder, and stumbled away.

"Hello, Elder Yuheng."

"Mmm."

"Good day, Elder Yuheng."

"Good day."

"Elder Yuheng has worked really hard."

". . ."

The disciples were very disciplined and were acting with an abundance of caution, so Chu Wanning accepted the tense greetings from each disciple, but no one dared try his pot of boiled tofu with green vegetables.

Slowly, the line was getting shorter and the food in front of other shizuns was almost gone. Only Chu Wanning still had a pot full of food. The pot of vegetables was completely cold and untouched.

Chu Wanning's face didn't waver, but his heart was conflicted. He had washed them all morning. . .

At that point, his three disciples showed up. Xue Meng was still in silver-blue light armour, refreshing getup. He bounced over with excitement: "Shizun! How are you? Does your wound hurt?"

Chu Wanning was very calm: "It doesn't hurt."

Xue Meng: "Well, that's good."

Chu Wanning glanced at him and suddenly asked: "Do you eat tofu?"

Xue Meng: ". . ."

#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #bl novel #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei novel #danmei #mo ran #chu wanning #ranwan

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 6,949 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, violence, gore, discussions of death of a character, sexuality, nudity, typical TWD A/N: STUFF. IS. HAPPENING. This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: After the losses suffered during the fight with the Saviors, the communities try to change directions after a couple of plans go awry.

Your name: submit What is this?

The dawn was red as you watched the sun break over the horizon from the guard platform at The Hilltop. With Daryl’s arms around you, you had managed to get some sleep, but you awoke early while it was still dark. You’d crept from the trailer and out into the cool air, forcing in deep lungfuls.

You were staring out over the peaceful morning. The cresting sun set dewdrops on the grass on fire. It was silent and still. It was surreal that the world was still turning despite the terrors of the day before, the losses, the grief.

Your detached musing was cut short by the sound of soft footsteps and you turned to see Daryl climbing the ladder up to the platform. He stepped off and gave you a long look. Of course he knew just where to find you. He thought you still looked dazed, the way you had when he’d found you alone, kneeling at Eric’s grave. You turned back to look again toward the rising sun and Daryl moved beside you, leaning on the wooden wall with his forearms, his blue eyes flitting over your face, looking at the warmth the sun was giving to your skin.

“Aaron is going to take Gracie,” you said suddenly. There was a rasp in your voice, some artifact of exhaustion, grief, tears.

Daryl nodded and turned his attention to a knot in the wood of the wall in front of him. He picked at it absently. “Thas good,” he rumbled.

You turned to look at him again and he saw the same desperation in your eyes. “Why did it have to be Eric?” Your eyes filled with glistening tears. “He was pure good. Like Aaron. He wasn’t a soldier. I should have made him stay in Alexandria. I should have—”

“He wanted to fight,” Daryl interrupted. “It was his choice. Just like it’s yours or mine. He wanted to fight for Aaron. And for you, and for Alexandria.”

The tears broke from your eyes and streamed down your cheeks and you hastily wiped them away, ignoring the sting as the salty water wet some of the cuts on your face, remnants from the car crash the day before.

“We headin’ back today?” Daryl asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. I think—I think I’ll drive Aaron and Gracie. He shouldn’t drive.”

“Should you?” Daryl asked gently.

You straightened up, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. “I’ll be fine.”

Daryl trusted your judgement. “Okay.” He moved a touch closer to you and wrapped his arm around you, his fingers resting lightly on the small of your back. Both of you kept your eyes fixed on the sunrise, needing the reassurance of the rising sun just as much as you needed each other. “Aaron’ll—he’ll be alright. With time.”

You looked back over at Daryl and nodded, though you didn’t look any less sad. “I know.” You clasped his face in both hands and he watched as your eyes closed. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his and Daryl kissed you back softly, smoothing his fingers into your hair, brushing it away from your face. When you pulled back, you managed to give him a small smile. He drew that out of you even in the worst times. “You’ll be careful? On your bike?”

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “I’ll stay right with ya. After yesterday, I ain’t splitting off from ya again. Especially now that we’ve hit ‘em hard. Negan and his assholes will be like goddamn cornered wasps.”

You sighed and leaned into him. Daryl draped his arm across your back and rested his hand on your hip. You were looking back out toward the pinkness of the sky, glowing with the still low sun. “I want him gone,” you said, and this time your tone was hard and sharp. “I want him dead for what he’s taken from all of us.”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip and nodded. “I know. So do I.” The archer sighed. “S’almost done. We’re in the home stretch.”

“Unless they get out of The Sanctuary,” you said, turning to looked at his handsome face, his blue eyes. “Unless the plan doesn’t work.”

Daryl shook his head. He wanted to ease your fears, but he had the same worries. “Even then. We’ll get him.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

You had to take a long route to get back to Alexandria, making sure no one was on your tail and avoiding the roads you and Rosita had wired up with explosives. Luckily, the trip was uneventful and you arrived home safely with no major issues. Once the gate was closed behind the car, you drove slowly to Aaron and Eric’s house, Daryl just behind you on his bike. You parked and shut off the engine, glancing in the rearview mirror at Aaron in the backseat. He was staring down at the little pink bundle in his arms—Gracie. You climbed out and pulled his door open. “Come on, Aaron. We’re home.”

He looked up in surprise, no concept of how much time had actually passed. You helped him out with Gracie still in his arms and gave him a perceptive look. “Go on inside. I’ll be right there,” you said.

Aaron simply gulped and nodded, heading through the garage, past Daryl, to the door that led into the house. Daryl glanced back at you after tossing the tarp over his bike. “How’s he doin’?” he asked.

You shrugged. “He didn’t say a word the whole drive,” you said, your brow furrowed in deep concern. “Listen, I think I’m gonna stay here with him and Gracie tonight. He might need some help.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod, deeply appreciating how you could be both so badass and yet soft when the moment called for it. “Good idea. I’ll be down at the house checkin’ in with everybody if ya need me, alright?”

“Okay,” you said with a nod. You stared at him for a long moment, your forehead still creased with that little worry line you always got.

“C’mere,” Daryl said, reaching his arm around to pull you in toward him. “It’ll be alright. Aaron is a tough son of a bitch. And now he’s got that little girl to look after.”

You fell against him and breathed in his familiar smell. “I know. I just miss him. So, I can’t imagine how Aaron is feeling. It doesn’t even feel real yet.” Daryl planted a kiss in your hair and you glanced up at him and gave him a small smile before your face turned serious again. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

“Me neither. But it ain’t happenin’.” Daryl gently lifted your chin and kissed you, slow and sweet. “I’ll come by in the mornin’ alright? See how you’re doin’.”

You nodded. “Night,” you said, letting your fingers slip from between his. He took a few steps away and then glanced back at you.

“S’gonna be weird not havin’ ya next to me sleepin’ tonight,” he commented. You nodded. “I’ll miss ya,” he drawled.

You smiled at him again. “Same. See you in the morning.”

You watched him fade down the street until you couldn’t distinguish him in the growing twilight. You stepped into the house and when you pushed inside, Aaron was standing just over the threshold, holding Gracie, and looking completely lost. “Aaron?” you said gently, touching him on the sleeve.

“Huh?” He turned and looked at you, dazed.

“Come on. Let’s get you in and sitting down with her, okay?” You led him by the elbow into the living room, averting your eyes from Eric’s boots sitting just inside the door and his sweatshirt tossed over the back of the couch.

Aaron sank down onto the couch, looking completely exhausted, but staring down at Gracie like she was the only thing on the earth. “Okay. Here we go.” You draped a blanket around Aaron’s shoulders. “I’m gonna go get her bag out of the car. Then I need to see about some more baby things for her. After that,” you sighed, “you need to eat something.”

Aaron nodded, which was more than you were even expecting. You rushed out to the car sitting at the curb and pulled the bag from the backseat. It had a few changes of clothes and diapers in it, along with some formula, but she would need more. She needed a crib, and more clothes and formula, and toys… You set the bag down next to Aaron. “I’m gonna go to the clinic and see what they have for her. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

He gulped and looked up at you. “Yeah. I’m okay. We’re okay…” he trailed off quietly.

You gave him one last parting glance before nodding and heading out to the clinic. You were able to get some more diapers and formula, bottles and even a few toys. You were still missing a crib for her and definitely would need more clothes, but it would be a good start for Aaron. You stopped by the pantry on the way back to pick up something to make for dinner, hoping you could convince Aaron to eat something.

As soon as you got back to Aaron’s, you set out some water to boil on the stove and later threw in some pasta. You got a bottle of formula ready for Gracie and brought it over to him, where he was still sitting frozen on the couch. “Here,” you said, handing it to him. “I’m sure she’s hungry.”

“Thanks,” Aaron said, taking the bottle and almost smiling. You leaned your chin on your hand, elbow propped up on the back of the couch as you watched him feeding Gracie. “Eric and I always talked about having kids but obviously in this world—” he broke off, looking suddenly desperate again, and you reached out and rested your hand gently on his arm, unable to stop tears from welling up in your own eyes.

Aaron gave you a grateful look. “Thank you for being here,” he said. His voice was a raspy whisper. “I didn’t know if I could come back here alone.”

You nodded. “Of course. And you’re not alone.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Amazingly you had gotten Aaron to eat a small amount before he said he was going to sleep with Gracie in the spare bedroom. Going into his and Eric’s master bedroom would be too hard. You helped him set up an area with clean blankets for her on the floor and you gave him a tight hug goodnight. “I’ll be down on the couch if you need anything, okay?” He nodded and thanked you again and you headed downstairs and flopped down on the couch, pulling the blanket over you and tucking your knife in its sheath under one of the throw pillows. At first your mind wouldn’t quiet, and all you could think about was a never-ending string of what ifs. What if the Saviors showed up at the gate? What if Negan got out of The Sanctuary? What if they brought down the walls? What if you had missed some outposts? But surprisingly, exhaustion from the battles of the last few days, physical and emotional, got the best of you and eventually you sank into a deep sleep.

“You know what I want to hear from you?” Negan’s deep voice drifted over you and your whole body seemed to go numb, except that you could feel his breath on your neck. “I want to hear you beg me.” You could tell he was smiling.

You turned and met his eyes. “I’m not really the begging type. You know that.”

He chuckled to himself and then you felt his hands on your hips from behind, pulling you back against him. “Come on now, Y/N. Don’t be like that. You’re my wife, after all. Don’t you want to please your husband?”

You gulped as his fingers dug into your hips tighter.

His voice next came from right beside you ear. “Or did I make a mistake marrying you? If you’re unhappy with our little arrangement you only have to say so… But you know I wouldn’t be able to give you or your brother any special treatment. That wouldn’t be fair to—”

“No,” you said urgently, your chest heaving. “No. I’m not unhappy with our arrangement.”

You felt his lips and then his teeth on your earlobe. “That’s my girl. So… beg me. I want you to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you…”

“Y/N!”

You shot upright on the couch, absolutely drenched in a cold sweat and when you got your bearings you looked up and saw Aaron standing over you. Gracie was in his arms, crying at full volume. You wiped a shaky hand over your brow and threw the blanket off your lap. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry—I was—it was just a nightmare,” you said, saying it to yourself as much as you were to Aaron.

He was bouncing Gracie in his arms and looking at you with almost frantic worry. “You were yelling,” he said, fumbling in the nearby baby bag for a pacifier.

You squeezed your eyes shut but immediately opened them when a flashback of your dream immediately came forward. You could see Negan as if he was really right there in front of you. You could still feel his fingers digging into your hips and his breath on your neck. You blinked the sensations away and knelt down beside the baby bag, unzipping a side pocket where you had seen the pacifiers. You held one out to Aaron and Gracie immediately latched onto it and quieted. You leaned your back against the bottom of the couch and rubbed your hands over your face. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “This is the last thing you need. Me in your house freaking out over nothing in the middle of the night.”

“Stop,” Aaron said, still looking at you with concern. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Y/N, you have PTSD…”

You looked up at him in surprise. “I don’t think it’s—”

“It is,” he said gently, not stopping bouncing Gracie who seemed perfectly happy and content in his arms now.

You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth and chewed it anxiously for a moment. You’d never thought about the lasting effects of your past in that context, but you had to admit that he was probably right. The flashbacks were vivid and there were certain sounds, certain smells that elicited completely involuntary terror in you. You pulled yourself up off the floor and sank back down on the edge of the couch letting out a long, slow breath. “Huh… Well, to be fair, doesn’t everyone have PTSD nowadays?”

Aaron gave you a sad look. “Are you okay?” You nodded.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about this happening because—I haven’t had one in so long,” you said.

Aaron’s worry eased some and his furrowed brow relaxed. “Since Daryl?” he asked.

You caught his eyes a little sheepishly and nodded. “Yeah. Since Daryl pretty much.”

The next moment you could see the look in his eyes shrinking away, and you knew he was thinking about Eric. “I’m gonna go back to bed, okay?” he said gently. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“I’m good.” You stood and peered down at Gracie, gently brushing a finger over her silky soft cheek. “Goodnight, you two,” you cooed.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning there was a quiet knock on the front door and you went to answer it, Gracie nestled in your arms. It was Daryl. His heart skipped a beat at your little smile and the sight of you with that sweet bundle in your arms.

“Hey. Mornin’,” he said, stepping into the front entryway. “Aaron?” he asked, one of his eyebrows lifting in quizzically.

“He’s asleep, actually. And he deserves it,” you said, turning and leading the way quietly into the kitchen. “I, uhh… had a—nightmare last night. Or a… flashback. Woke him and Gracie up at some ungodly hour.”

Daryl’s hand went reflexively to your waist. “Are ya alright?”

You nodded. “Fine. It was…nothing.” Daryl looked a little unconvinced. You looked down at Gracie’s wide blue eyes. “I’m okay.”

He nodded. “Listen, I ain’t tryin’ to pile more on ya but… Rick ain’t back yet. We were expectin’ him by now.”

You gulped and looked up at Daryl, trying to read exactly how worried you should be based on his expression. “You think something went wrong with the scavengers?”

Daryl shrugged. “I dunno. All I know is I can’t stop worryin’ about those Saviors in The Sanctuary managing to get out, clear of the damn herd, and catchin’ us with our pants down.”

“Yeah… Same. But what can we do?”

It was then that Daryl told you his plan to crash a truck into the building and break the place open, letting the walkers get inside. He’d already talked it over with Rosita and Michonne and they both said they needed to see the place for themselves anyway.

“I just figure the longer we wait, the more time Negan has to figure somethin’ else out.”

You stared at him for a long moment. “Alright. Fine. I’m in. When are we going?”

He anxiously chewed his bottom lip. “Nah. Ya should stay here. If Rosita, Michonne, and I go, ya should stay and keep an eye on things.”

“You want me to stay here while you go back there? Close to Negan? Are you crazy?” you asked him.

“Y/N, listen to me. If shit goes sideways, ya should be here. Rick ain’t here. Who else is there? Besides, Aaron needs ya.”

Your jaw clenched and Daryl watched the muscle twitch. “I don’t do sidelines well,” you said.

For some reason this made him smile, despite the grim topic. “Ya, I know. It ain’t the sidelines. It just ain’t the frontline.”

You sighed and went to set Gracie down on a blanket spread on the floor. You considered the handsome archer again for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. But promise me you won’t get yourself killed. Don’t do anything too reckless without me.”

“I promise.” He moved close to you now and smoothed his hands over your sides before resting them on your hips. You ran your hands up his strong arms and brushed some of his hair away from his face.

“When are you going?”

He gulped. “In like an hour,” he said. He watched you carefully for your reaction but you simply sighed.

“Alright.” You arched up onto your tiptoes and kissed him, your arms looping around his neck. Daryl kissed you back hungrily and even lifted you off your feet for a brief moment, causing you to smile into his lips. When he pulled back you smoothed your hand down his chest. “I’ll see you later,” you said pointedly.

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah. Ya will.”

He kept his promise. And the plan sounded like it had worked. The truck had cracked open the front of the building and the herd had started to pour in. But now there was still more excruciating waiting, and worse yet, Rick still wasn’t back.

Aaron watched you endlessly pacing across his living room with a sleeping Gracie in your arms the next morning.

“Y/N.” You looked over at him. “I’ll take her. You go home. Go be with Daryl.”

Your brows contracted, leaving that little worry line in the middle of your forehead. “Are you sure? You’ll be okay?”

Aaron nodded. “Yeah. And it’s probably time I let myself really feel it. I’ll be okay.”

You gulped and wished you could banish the empty feeling between your lungs at his words, at the devastation on his face, but you couldn’t. You nodded and handed Gracie over to Aaron. “You know where I’ll be if you need me,” you said gently, smoothing your hand over her soft hair as she settled happily into Aaron’s arms.

“Yeah. I know.” You gave his shoulder a light squeeze and managed a small smile for him.

“Okay. I’ll check in with you tomorrow, okay?”

You left Aaron’s and headed straight for Daryl’s house, knocking lightly on the front door. Rosita pulled it open and greeted you, stepping back to let you inside. “Daryl’s downstairs,” she said. The mood was notably subdued in the house, obviously because everyone was worried about Rick… You were too.

“Daryl?” You called down the stairs.

“M’down here. C’mon down.”

You actually had never been down in his space before. Since you had an empty house, the two of you always stayed there. You moved into the dim space with interest, glancing around and seeing Daryl’s old poncho slung over a chair and a few collected odds and ends scattered around.

He was laying on his bed, drinking in the sight of you. Even in the low light he could see the bruises and flecked wounds on your face from when the Saviors had caused your vehicle to crash. Your eyes took in the space, eventually landing on something familiar he had on his nightstand. “Hey,” you said with a smile. “That’s what happened to this.” You grabbed the familiar scarf and ran the soft material through your fingers. “What’s this doing here?” you asked him curiously.

“Ya left it. That night after ya pushed me into the damn pond,” he drawled. You sank down onto the edge of the bed beside him.

“And you just decided not to give it back?” You teased him with a smile.

He shrugged vaguely. “Smells like ya,” he admitted. You gave him a fond look and replaced it where you had found it.

“You can keep it,” you said. “God, that feels like forever ago. To think I was just walking around, never having kissed you. What the hell was I doing?” you said.

“What the hell are ya doin’ now? Ya gonna lay down here properly with me or not?” he asked.

You laughed and immediately sunk down on top of him. His arms wrapped around you. “Hi,” you said softly.

“Hey.” He gave you a more serious look. “How’s Aaron doin’?”

“He’s—he’s okay. I think. He told me to come home.” Daryl nodded and chewed on his bottom lip. A look of worry seized him again. You smoothed your hand over his chest, your brow drawing low over your eyes. “You’re worrying about Rick,” you said. He nodded.

“Those scavengers… I dunno…” he trailed off. “Got a bad feelin’.”

“Rick is a tough son of a bitch,” you said. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah. I ‘spose.” He gently moved his hands underneath your shirt so he could feel the softness of your skin. It sent goosebumps rising up your arms. “Ya gonna stay with me tonight?” he asked hopefully.

You nodded and ran your fingers through his hair. Daryl’s eyes closed at your touch. “If you’ll have me,” you said softly. The archer could hear a smile in your voice and was glad for it. Things had been so dark since Eric’s death.

He opened his eyes and blinked up at you. “Oh, I’ll have ya, alright,” he drawled, a mischievous look on his face. The next thing you knew he’d swung you over onto the bed and you were underneath him, laughing in surprise and then sighing as he kissed your neck.

You looped your arms around his neck and gave in happily, glad to disappear with him into a blissful bubble, even just for a short time.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Several days later

Still no Rick. And the group was gathered together trying to decide what to do. Everyone was in agreement that something had to be done, but the details were up for debate.

“Something is definitely wrong,” Michonne said. “I think it’s time we head there for ourselves.”

You straightened up from your place leaning against the kitchen island. “We can’t just all go. It’d leave Alexandria even weaker. And what about The Saviors?” You glanced at Daryl, shaking your head. “I think it’s time we do a little check-in, don’t you?”

Michonne sighed, but nodded. “Fine. Then I’ll go after Rick. Alone.”

“Michonne, that’s not what I’m saying,” you said sympathetically.

“I know. But you’re also right. There’s too much to deal with and too few of us. Someone should check-in with the other communities and we definitely need to figure out how much longer it’s going to be before Negan and his asshole starve to death in there. So, I’ll go alone. It’ll be quiet, too. It’ll be good.”

“Are you sure?” Rosita asked her, clearly worried. “I can come with you,” she said.

“I’m sure. I’ll leave now. Stay here and keep this place safe. I’ll bring him back,” Michonne said.

“Be careful,” you said, giving her a nod.

“Who’s going to pay The Sanctuary a little visit?” Rosita asked.

“I want to see it,” you said urgently. “I mean… I haven’t seen it since the fight. I just—I need to see it.” It still didn’t feel real.

Daryl gave you an understanding nod. “Alright. You and I will go. We’ll take my bike. See if there are any messages from Dwight. Rosita, get extra watches on the walls and make a radio call to Hilltop and The Kingdom.”

She nodded. “You got it.”

So, you set off to The Sanctuary, both nervous and feeling tense with anticipation. You were hoping that seeing the place all hemmed in by walkers would give you some sense of satisfaction, lift some of the angry weight on your shoulders, but you knew that was probably wishful thinking. That weight wouldn’t be gone, the flashbacks wouldn’t be gone, the anger and anxiety wouldn’t be gone until he was gone.

But as soon as the building had barely come into view, you knew something was very wrong. Your arms tightened around Daryl’s waist and he hurriedly pulled his bike into a hidden spot alongside a building. You stumbled getting off as fast as you could and immediately had your hand on your rifle, rushing to get to a spot where you could look through the scope. Daryl was hurrying to get his bow off his bike, frantically watching what you were doing.

He heard you murmuring to yourself as he arrived next to you at the vantage point. “No, no, no… No! No, that can’t be—Daryl, tell me that—”

He lifted his binoculars and peered at the building. He didn’t need to look long. His jaw dropped partially open and then he lowered the binoculars from his eyes. He glanced at you. Your face was contorted a little with a slew of emotions; disbelief, anger, confusion, surprise, fear… all of them blended into one shitty milkshake you felt like had just been poured down your throat. Daryl’s blue eyes were narrowed in a glare and you watched his jaw clench.

You raised the scope of your rifle to your eye again and stared at the stacks of walkers that had formed a protective barrier around the double doors. “This was fucking Eugene,” you growled, “This was Eugene.” You dropped the scope from you eye and Daryl was worried for a moment that you might actually collapse. You leaned heavily against the brick wall and sank down to the ground. “He’s out. He’s fucking out…”

Daryl gulped and took another look at the building. Was this his fault? Had crashing the truck in somehow made this possible? “Fuck,” he growled. He let out a few angry breaths and considered punching his fist into the wall, and maybe he would have if you weren’t there, reeling.

“Fuck!” you repeated, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back against the wall. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Daryl glanced down at you and shook his head. “We go home. And then we come up with a new plan.” He hesitated and anxiously chewed his bottom lip. “‘M sorry,” he said.

You looked up at him in surprise. “This isn’t your fault,” you said softly. “This is—this is fucking war. It’s just how it is…”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“He’s out there and we don’t fucking know where!” you yelled. “Listen to me, Daryl. If we don’t want him to hit us here then we have to make sure he’s somewhere else. And right now we have no clue where the fuck he is!”

“Yeah, no shit. How the hell we gonna do that, huh? Go out there? Thas suicide! We don’t know how many of them got out. Obviously, they’re still pretty well fuckin’ armed!” he growled back.

You sighed heavily, getting near to it now. “There are three people Negan is guaranteed to show up for. Rick, you, and me. Out of those three, there’s only one person he wants alive.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “No. Hell no! Ya ain’t goin’ out there as bait!” he roared at you.

“This is the right call,” you said urgently. “You know it is! If we tell him that I want to talk about a truce we can lead him away from the communities and—”

“And give him the perfect opportunity to get his goddamn hands back on ya!”

“That’s not gonna happen. We just need to get him somewhere we can control and then—”

“No. I ain’t lettin’ ya do this! We’ll figure something else out!”

“How? We’ve already lost so many people. We’re low on ammo and guns and supplies…” But your jaw was set and your chin was inclined. “I don’t need your permission. If it was anyone else besides me who was going to bait him out, you know you’d say this was the right call. Hell, if it were you, you’d be out the door already!”

Daryl paced angrily in front of the bed, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his face. “Nah. It’s insane. Ya ain’t doin’ it.”

You heaved a sigh. “You can’t stop me, Daryl. I want this over! I just need this to be over!” Your eyes were a bit wide and desperate. “I’ll use their radio and call him up. I’ll tell him I want to bargain a truce. I know how to manipulate him. I’ve done it before, remember?”

He let out a scoff. “And then what? Ya think Negan is just gonna waltz in to a meeting unarmed? Ya think he ain’t gonna roll up with a crew?”

“We’ll have more time to plan than he will. We set a small crew of sharp-shooters ahead of time. We get everything set up and then I give him a tight deadline for the meeting. He won’t have time to put some crazy, elaborate scheme in motion. If I do it right, he won’t be able to resist. Hell, I might even be able to convince him to come alone! Either because he really thinks we’re gonna cave now that he’s out, or because he thinks he’s going to—to be able to have me again. It wouldn’t be completely unprecedented for me to do something completely self-sacrificial…” you trailed off, avoiding Daryl’s eyes. “He won’t kill me. You heard it from his own mouth. But you? He’ll gladly put a bullet in your head the first instant he sees you.”

“If he gets his hands on ya, it’ll be worse than ya bein’ dead,” Daryl growled. Daryl felt sick just thinking about you being in the same goddamn state as Negan, let alone this bullshit. “I can’t let ya do this. If it goes wrong—”

“There’s no other way. If you can come up with a plan that doesn’t end up with a whole lot more of our people dead and all the communities destroyed, please let me know. Because that’s what’s coming if we wait. They’ve got Eugene. I don’t even want to think about what they’re gonna make him do next.”

Daryl rubbed his hands over his face and gave you a long look. His expression was somewhat tortured. “If you’re goin’ out there to do that, then I’m gonna be right there. And don’t even try and argue. I’m gonna be the one to line his head up in the crosshairs and pull the goddamn trigger.”

You stared at him for a long moment, seemingly frozen, before you nodded. “Fine. If that’s what it’s going to take for you to let me do this… But I mean it. You have to stay hidden. If he or his men see you—”

“I know. But there’s no way I’m lettin’ ya go out there without me. If somethin’ goes wrong and I’m not there…” he trailed off.

You nodded. “Okay. Okay…” You hesitated only a moment. “Let’s figure it out.”

A short time later, you and Daryl were leaning over a map on your kitchen island. “Right here,” you said, pointing a spot that was almost halfway between The Hilltop and The Sanctuary. You knew the landscape was patchy woods and clearings. “It’s sort of neutral ground. Probably open enough to make him comfortable that we’re not hiding a huge force somewhere too close.”

Daryl nodded. “Alright…” He glanced up at your expression, which was steely. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

You met his blue eyes and nodded. “I am.”

He sighed heavily and shook his head. “So, that’s it? You, me, and Rosita. And you’re just gonna walk up to him unarmed,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter that I’m unarmed as long as I can get him somewhere for you or Rosita to take the shot. I need him to feel comfortable enough to actually stay for a minute. I can’t roll up with a goddamn rifle.”

“He ain’t comin’ unarmed,” Daryl said. “And I doubt he’ll come alone.”

“It’ll be fine,” you said.

Daryl’s stomach was already churning. “I hate this,” he muttered angrily, pushing up on his hands and moving away from the map.

You leaned back against the kitchen island. “I know.”

“Then why the hell are we doin’ it?!”

“Daryl, we’ve been over this… what’s the alternative?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, alright! But there’s gotta be somethin’ else—"

“There isn’t,” you said, surprisingly softly. “So, just… just come upstairs and let me have my way with you before I start this insane thing tomorrow.”

Daryl stared at you with that classic Daryl Dixon glare. “If ya think sayin’ that is somehow gonna make me forget this is happenin’ you’re wrong.”

“I know,” you said, straightening up and crossing the space to him, reaching out and gripping his sides. “I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking you to come upstairs so we can pretend that it’s not for a little while…”

Daryl’s face softened a little and he studied your face for a long moment before sighing. “Fine. Ya know I can’t say no to that.”

“Good,” you breathed, arching up onto your toes and kissing him hard, looping your arms around his neck.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Well, suck my dick and slap my ass…”

You rolled your eyes as Negan’s voice drifted back to you through the two-way radio. “Yeah, I’ll pass on both of those actually…”

His laughter came through next. “Gotta say, Y/N. You’re about the last person I expected to hear from. Old Rick the Prick? Sure. But not you. I have to say, I am intrigued.”

“This has gone on long enough. We’ve both lost enough people. I want to talk about some sort of arrangement so we can end this for good,” you said.

There was a long silence on the other end. “So, that’s why you’re callin’ me up. I bet Rick the Prick doesn’t even know you’re doin’ this, does he? Because he is hellbent on my extinction. Or haven’t you noticed?”

“You want to talk about Rick or do you want to talk about ending this?”

Another long silence before he answered. “Some people would say that the fact you’re even offering a compromise means I’m on the right track, means I’m winning…”

“Some people might say that. Others might say it’s because I’m just sick of all the death. And I know deep down you don’t want to see any more of your people dead. So, I guess the important thing is what do you say?”

You didn’t know that at that moment Negan was biting his lip, smiling, listening to the strong tone of your voice. “Y/N, you know I’ve gotta tell ya, you takin’ charge like this is really turnin’ me on. I can’t tell you how much I would just love to bend you over the nearest table and fuck your brains out…” Beside you Daryl shifted angrily and clenched his fists. A brief crackle of static came before Negan’s voice sounded from the radio again. “I would really love to see you again, honey. I know you ran away from me twice, but I just can’t help myself! You are like the drug I can’t quit and maybe some delusional part of me thinks I could tame that wild streak of yours…”

You avoided Daryl’s eyes. He looked like he was about to lose his shit and call the whole thing off, but in truth, this was going better than you expected. Some part of you was realizing that, holy fuck, you might truly be Negan’s weak spot. You felt like he was about to propose a meeting.

And you were right.

“I tell you what, you come talk to me face to face and I’ll entertain the idea of a truce,” he said. “But just you. No army, no honey-bun Daryl, no goddamn bullshit.”

You paused for a moment as if you were thinking his offer over. “You really think I’m just going to walk into some trap you have set for me? And I suppose you want me to come unarmed. Should I put myself in handcuffs for you too?” You tried to sound scornful.

“Well, only if you want to cut straight to playtime, doll,” he said with a chuckle. “As for the weapons, yes I do expect you to come unarmed. We’re just gonna talk, right?”

“So you’re gonna be unarmed too?”

Another laugh through the radio. “Hell no! I will be packing. You, along with those losers you’ve attached yourself to for reasons I still do not understand, have already tried to kill me a few times! Tried and failed, but tried nonetheless. But you know I could never, ever really hurt you… Even though you’ve been such a bad, bad wife…” Daryl flinched when Negan said ‘wife.’ “But you’ve got nothing to worry about, doll.”

Just then you felt a twist in your stomach, some surge of nerves now that this was all becoming so real. You shook it off. “And you’re coming alone?” you said. “How could I possibly trust you, Negan?”

“You name the time and place and I’ll be there. No bullshit,” he said. His deep voice was calm, confident. This was working way better than you anticipated.

You paused and looked at Daryl again, heaving in a few breaths before pressing the button down on the side of the radio to speak. “Fine. I’ll come alone, if you come alone. But listen to me, Negan, if there is so much as a blade of grass that looks out of place, I’m gone.”

Another laugh. “I’d expect nothing less, clever girl. Just name when and where.”

You gulped. “Tomorrow. One o’clock. Partway between Hilltop and the Sanctuary. There’s a field just past mile marker 31.”

“I will see you then. And I’ll try to be on my best behavior.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I mean it, Negan. I just want this over with,” you said. That wasn’t a lie. You did. It just wouldn't be on his terms.

“So do I, Y/N. I know you think I’m a heartless bastard but… I do care about people.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Just be there,” you growled into the radio.

“Oh, I will be. See you then, darlin’.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #sacrifice

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years

Text

Playing with Fire – Ch. 5

Marinette helps Luka clean up before they go into town to meet her parents

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Marinette scrunched her face against the early morning light that streamed into the opening of the tower. It might’ve been perfect for Luka—giving him more time in his dragon form before she’d arrived, and apparently he enjoyed basking in the sunshine, anyways—but for Marinette waking up this early so many days in a row was not ideal. She hid her face in what she expected to be Luka’s scales, but her cheek hit the cold stone and she jerked awake to find that Luka was no longer next to her.

A soft slink drew her attention and she looked up just in time to see him use a slender dagger to shear off a large chunk of hair by his ear. It fell to the floor in a clump and she realized he’d already cut several other sections.

“What are you doing?” she asked, bewildered.

He paused, the stone at his throat pulsing white as he figured out her tone and shocked expression. “I don’t like it when it’s long,” he explained, sectioning out another chunk of hair that was right next to the one he’d just done and an entire inch shorter. As he pulled the dagger up to it, she scrambled to her feet.

“No, no, not like that!” She stopped his hand and he turned to stare at her, the dagger still poised behind him. She blushed. “Here, let me,” she said, offering her hand.

He hesitated, his eyes flicking from her hand to her earnest expression, before he laid the dagger in her hand warily and turned back around, giving her access to the back of his head.

She took a deep breath and assessed the damage he’d already done. Not terrible—he’d at least started on one side and was working his way around to the back. But what he had done was choppy, flopping in uneven pieces. She could start there.

He flinched when the cold metal of the dagger touched his ear, but the knife was wicked sharp and she was able to drag it through his hair easily, taking smaller, more angled cuts as she went so it started to lay flat.

“Do you want to tell me why you got up so early to do this?” she asked as she worked.

He half-shrugged with the shoulder opposite the ear she was working on. “It was getting long. That’s all.”

Another section of hair fell and she ran her fingers through what she’d done, fluffing it and trying to envision what it would look like when she was finished. “And the fact that we’re going to see my parents today had nothing to do with it?”

“Why would it?” His words were meant to be nonchalant, but at the mention of her parents he stiffened visibly.

“Because…” She focused on choosing her words instead of how soft and thick his hair was. “You might be nervous?”

“No reason to be,” he said gruffly, “just going into a town full of people who hate me and want me dead, no big deal.” His sarcasm betrayed him. He was terrified.

“They won’t know it’s you,” she said gently, letting another section of hair fall between her feet. “You don’t exactly look like the dragon they’re expecting, you know.”

He hummed, but since she was running her hands through his hair again, she wasn’t sure if he was thinking or answering or just enjoying her touch.

“How short do you want it?” She ruffled her hands through the back section that she’d finished, watching stray hairs fall as she did. He turned to look at her, and she found that he almost looked childish in his doubt.

“I’ve never really thought about that before,” he admitted. “What do you think?”

She toyed with the longer strands on the side she hadn’t worked on yet. “I don’t know, I guess I’m used to it a little longer on you. It suits you. Kinda… unkempt and untamed.” She started when she realized her voice had been drifting into a fond admiration. “But—I mean—if you like it short, that’s—I mean, it’s your hair, and I’m just, it’s what you want, there’s no reason for me to like—or! Not like, or, anything because why would I care what you look like because we’re friends and we’re… yeah. Friends.”

She knew she had to be blushing and she looked away from him while she tried to get her fluttering heart under control. It was no use. He had to have seen her stone going haywire, stuttering from red to white to yellow to blue in quick succession. When she managed to turn back to him, he was watching her with those intense serpentine eyes, his stone glowing bright red.

“So, short?” she asked, too brightly. He blinked at her, and for a moment she forgot that he wasn’t in his dragon form. Finally, he nodded and turned back around. They were both quiet as she worked. He only flinched again once, when she scraped the blade against the back of his neck to get the small hairs there.

“Tell me about the tailor’s boy,” he said suddenly.

The dagger clanged to the floor and she stammered out excuses as she bent to retrieve it, her stone bright white and crackling. He had a little smirk when she’d gotten herself under control.

“A-Adrien? He’s… I mean, he’s my… friend. We’re friends. I grew up with him, and I tried to apprentice under his father, but I got emotional… once, it was once. And there was a fire and…” She rubbed his hair in between her fingers before she pulled the dagger through it again.

“You were sweet on him, then?”

She almost fumbled the dagger again and he hid a snicker behind his hand that made her blush flame to life. “What? No! I—Why would you think that? It’s—I mean, at one point, maybe, but it was a long time ago and besides—” She clamped her lips shut.

“Besides?” he pressed.

“Besides… um… well, the curse—I mean, the bond. It kept me from…" She sighed. "I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

He paused, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “It kept you from being close to anyone.”

“No, that’s not—” Tears sprung to the corners of her eyes before she could stop them and she brushed them away hurriedly. “Luka, listen, I don’t want you to keep blaming yourself for this. It happened. We’re together now and that’s the important thing and we’re managing it.”

Her hands had come to rest on his shoulders as she talked, and he reached up to wrap his fingers around hers. “We’re together now,” he repeated. His thumb rubbed against hers before he brought his eyes up from the floor. “I guess I keep forgetting you already agreed to stay with me. But if you ever wanted… I mean, I’m sure the tailor’s boy—Adrien, you said?—I’m sure he’s nice.”

She blushed all the way to the roots of her hair and his small smile turned into a smirk. She pulled her hand out from underneath his and returned to her task, finishing up the last few sections she had left. When she’d finished, she blushed all over again. She did like his hair long, and she’d left it a little longer on top, but now that she could see all of his face and the curve of his jaw and his high cheekbones…

All she could do was stare as he ran a hand through it at the side, the dark strands slipping over his fingers easily; as he gave her a bewildered grin, like he’d never imagined his hair could feel like that; and as a small crease formed between his eyebrows when he noticed that she was blatantly checking him out. Hopefully he didn’t realize that’s what was happening, although the flaming red stone at her throat probably didn’t help her hide it.

She closed her mouth, but couldn't help her smile. “It looks good,” she managed to squeak.

He chuckled and looked away from her, and she thought she noticed a pink tinge starting to bloom over the tops of his cheeks. “Thanks for doing it,” he said, more to the wall than to her. “I haven’t ever cared, you know?”

“No, I hadn’t noticed,” she teased, gesturing to the barren space around her. The only decoration—the collection of armor along the wall—seemed to be more of a grisly reminder of his past misdeeds than anything else. His library and the lyre seemed more useful for passing time than for pleasure, and the pillows that had been destroyed had been his only luxury. He glanced around with her, his eyes seeming to fall on everything for the first time.

Something inside her softened as he ran his hand through his hair again. "Maybe we could move these?" She pointed to the pile of armor. "I doubt they're pleasant memories."

"I didn't really know what else to do with them," he admitted sheepishly.

She tapped her fingers against her chin as she thought. “I’ll think of something,” she promised.

She stepped forward and brushed some of the stray hair off his shoulders, straightening his tunic as she did before she caught a glimpse of his stone. Bright red. Like it had been the entire time she’d been cutting his hair. Ever since last night, when he’d thrown a hand out to her.

Her hands stilled on his shoulders. He was close, so close. And standing there in front of her and looking at her like that. Her breath caught before she could help it. His long fingers reached up to touch her stone. Glowing like a hot red ember, matching his. Her fingers curled into the fabric at his shoulders and she bit her lip nervously.

Hesitantly, he reached up and pulled her lip out from between her teeth, pausing after he did to swipe his thumb across it gently. His tongue darted out between his lips and he sucked in a breath before he leaned down.

She didn’t know what she expected, but her fluttering heart sank to her stomach when he hesitated and changed trajectory, his lips landing on her forehead instead of…

He pulled away, smiling sadly, and paused again to look at her. “Come on,” he said softly, “we’d better head out while we have the light.”

And with that, he took a step back and turned to lead the way down the stairs, leaving her feeling oddly bereft.

***

He was quiet during their walk through the forest, and he kept glancing back, as if he expected someone to be following them, or as if he was going in the opposite direction of where he wanted to be. She slipped her hand into his at some point and he gripped her tight, pulling strength from her.

When they arrived at the break in the trees that announced the edge of the village, he balked like a nervous horse, hiding in the shadows of the trees, holding her hand as if he was afraid to let go.

“Please,” he said hoarsely, tugging her back with him, “please, just wait.”

“Luka, nothing bad is going to happen,” she said, realizing as she did that although she believed that with all her heart, it was a promise she shouldn’t make. Still, she set her jaw and gave him a determined smile. “They’re going to love you.”

He swallowed visibly, then shut his eyes and nodded. She took a step and felt him move with her, trusting her blindly. The thought gave her a small thrill of joy and of sympathy. They are going to love him, Marinette thought fiercely, pushing away the small ‘ because I do’ that was tacked on to the end of that.

One or two people did double takes and gaped on their way in, and more than a few startled at the sight of her more than him, but she supposed that someone assumed to be dead appearing in broad daylight had that effect on people. She gripped Luka’s hand tighter and ignored them, making a beeline for her parents’ bakery before word could travel.

When she got to the door, though, she hesitated. What was she going to say? How should she explain this situation to them?

But when Luka squeezed her hand and she looked back at him, his eyes still slammed shut, it stiffened her resolve and she knocked firmly.

“Dear, have we sold out yet? There’s someone at the door.” Her mother’s voice carried through the door and made Marinette choke up. She knocked again, and felt Luka take a step forward to stand next to her instead of behind her.

When Sabine opened the door, Marinette watched as her face shifted from pleasant customer service mode to confusion to horror to happy tearful surprise within the span of a few seconds. She rushed forward and gathered Marinette into a tight hug, which Marinette returned as much as she could while still holding Luka’s hand.

Sabine pulled away and wiped away her happy tears. “But, the dragon…?” she asked, more of a bewildered, “how are you alive?” than an actual question. Her eyes flicked to Luka with another question, but she seemed more interested in Marinette’s explanation.

Marinette took a deep breath. “Can we come in? It’s kind of a long story.”

“Of course, of course, yes, come in and sit down and tell us all about it.” She stepped aside with another curious look at Luka. Marinette hoped that the scales on his forearms and the serpentine slits of his eyes would escape her sharp notice for a minute or two more.

“Where’s Papa?”

“In the back. I’ll fetch him.” Sabine hurried away and Marinette pulled Luka over to the small table in the corner of the shop.

“So far, so good,” she reassured him. He nodded back stiffly.

There was a shout and something in the back banged to the floor then her father was thundering towards her, picking her up out of her seat and spinning her around, kissing her cheek fondly. She clung to his neck like she had when she was three and he spun her like this all the time.

“And this young man must be responsible for saving you, is that it?” Tom asked as he set Marinette back on her feet and charged at Luka, his arms open for another exuberant hug. When Luka’s eyes went wide, Marinette ducked in front of Tom and held him off.

“Sort of. Actually, I never ended up fighting the dragon, Papa.” She glanced back at Luka. “But Luka did save me. A long time ago.”

She dragged Tom over to sit next to her as she sat next to Luka, and Sabine slid in beside him.

“I was a baby,” she started, the same way Tom always told her. “A tiny little thing, still all wrapped up in diapers.” She watched as the familiar words washed over Tom, his mood souring, and his glances at Luka darkening. She took another deep breath and continued. “I fell into the water, and no one else was around. And a very kind dragon…” At that she took Luka’s hand again, “he rescued me. He sacrificed so much to keep me warm until you came and found me.” She smiled fondly at Luka, and he managed a tight smile back, his thumb rubbing over hers.

“But it came at a cost,” she continued, touching the stone at her throat. Sabine followed her movement and glanced over at Luka, to the matching one he wore, both currently a dull red. She saw the pieces connect on Sabine’s face, but she waited, her expression serene, for Marinette to explain.

“Um, Luka and I…” She gripped Luka’s hand tighter. “Luka and I…”

“We’re bonded,” Luka spoke up softly beside her.

“Right, we’re bonded—married, kind of—and he’s the dragon and it’s okay because he doesn’t want to hurt me, or anyone, and he was only waiting at the tower for me to find him and he stayed away this whole time because he thought I was going to hurt him or you were going to but I don’t want to hurt him, and I don’t want anyone else to hurt him, I want to stay with him and I’ve already decided, and that’s that and…” She blinked as her torrent of words ran out.

Her parents weren’t moving, but Tom was glancing between her and Luka, and she didn’t know what to expect from him, how he would take the revelation that not only was the “thing” from his story sitting across from him, but that he was now a part of the family. Luka had gone completely still beside her and she knew he was probably expecting the worst.

“Is that all?” Sabine finally ventured, reaching over to take Tom’s hand.

“Um… well…” She touched her stone again and found strength from it. “I’m going back to the tower with him after we leave here. We just wanted…” Why was she crying all of a sudden? It didn’t make any sense, but then this felt like more of a goodbye than her decision to leave the first time had been. She brushed the tears off her cheeks. “We wanted to let you know. That I’m okay and everything’s okay. Better than okay. Maman, Luka is…” Her breath caught in her throat and she tried again. “Luka is the kindest, most sincere, the sweetest soul I think I’ve ever met. I’m so lucky he found me and…”

Luka reached up and brushed her tears away this time, carefully sweeping them away from her eyes and cupping her cheek briefly before he pulled away. Sabine watched all of this with a fond softness in her eyes that Marinette recognized from when she looked at Tom.

“We understand, Marinette, and if this is what you want, we’re behind you all the way.”

Marinette gave Sabine a grateful smile, then shifted to look at Tom, who still hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, since she’d uttered the words “he’s the dragon.”

“My daughter…” Tom started, then he turned and she was surprised to see tears in his eyes and a huge smile on his face. “My daughter is alive and in love and married and this is the best day of my life!” He lunged forward and wrapped both Marinette and Luka up in a tight hug.

“Tom!” Sabine admonished him, rapping on his shoulder. “Let them breathe!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, pulling back. “Gosh, I couldn’t imagine, I mean, can you imagine, dear? Little dragonlings running all over, with their little feet and wings and tails, and this young man could take over the bakery! Think about it! We’ll be the talk of the town! The only bakery with a resident dragon keeping the fires lit!”

Sabine pursed her lips and Marinette hid her face in the hand that wasn’t still holding Luka’s, blushing fiercely.

“Tom!” Sabine said again, “Slow down, you’re scaring the poor boy.”

Marinette snuck a glance over at Luka and it was true the color had drained from his face, but he had a wide smile and his stone was a bright, happy blue. Something told her he didn’t mind the idea of a future family. Was that even possible? She blushed again as she thought it and turned to hide her embarrassed, pleased smile in Luka’s shoulder. His arm wrapped around her almost automatically and her stone was matching his again. A bright, happy blue.

“Papa…” She groaned. “Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said again, but he didn’t sound very sorry at all.

“Besides, Luka might have plans of his own, did you think of that? He might not want to run the bakery,” Sabine said then. “Luka, you’ve been very quiet, sweetie, is everything all right?”

Marinette’s face was still hidden in his chest, but he rubbed at her back and she felt him nod. “Everything’s perfect,” he said quietly. “Thank you. And I’ll… take care of her. Always. I promise.”

“Well, of course you will.” The fondness in Sabine’s voice hid a sly knowledge that Marinette wasn’t sure how to take. “I can tell you two are very close already.”

In front of her eyes, his stone cooled to that same glowing red it had been when they walked in. She pulled away to look at him and his eyes were shining. He didn’t say anything else, but she could almost hear his response echoing through her.

“Are you two staying for dinner?” Tom asked then, bringing Marinette out of her happy bubble.

“Um, I don’t think—” she started, glancing nervously at Luka, but he squeezed her arm and nodded, smiling gently. She couldn’t help but smile back.

“Dinner would be just fine,” he answered, but his eyes hadn’t left hers and her heart was doing that weird flutter thing like it had before they left his tower.

“Wonderful! Come with me, my boy, I’ll show you the ropes!” Tom reached over to clap Luka on the shoulder, and after one more squeeze of her hand, Luka slid out from behind the table and followed him into the kitchen.

“Well, that went well,” Sabine remarked, then turned to Marinette with a sly smile. “And I have a feeling there’s more you want to talk about?”

Marinette’s eyes were glued on Luka, standing next to her father in the kitchen, his stone back to bright blue, and she nodded.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #mlb fic #LBSC Exchange 2021 #lukanette #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #dragon!luka #cursed!marinette #tom and sabine #fic title: playing with fire

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

secret santa

pairing: ransom drysdale x f!reader

a/n: this is so self indulgent. SO SELF INDULGENT. more self indulgent than anyone will ever be able to comprehend. before u all read this, i want u to know it was originally supposed to be about training ransom at a job, but then i realized that i nothing about 1. working at a coffee shop and 2. training an employee. also, i am the worst at writing dialogue. so i didn’t write a lot of dialogue LMAO enjoy :)

also, half of this was written at 1 am. just a warning

warnings: coffee shop au, enemies (kinda) to lovers, a lil fluff, not really angst but bitter feelings, kinda slow burn and then all the sudden a fast burn i’m sorry 😭

word count: 2.6k

You woke up to the sound of your alarm rumbling your bedside table sometime around the asscrack of dawn, and rubbed your eyes with a groan. Sometimes, you really couldn’t stand your job, but bills didn’t really pay themselves, did they? You rolled out of bed, and began your dreaded morning routine before heading out to start your opening shift at your local café.

Somewhere between warming up the espresso machine and taking out last night’s trash (which you shouldn’t have had to do in the first place), an older, yet expensive looking car pulled up to the front of the parking lot. You were a bit confused, as you’d never seen this vehicle, and it was quite clear that you weren’t exactly open yet. You watched as a tall man hopped out of the car, wearing a large peacoat and very unnecessary sunglasses. He approached the door, gave it a knock, then waited for you to come open it for him. Reluctantly, you made your way over, and in order to keep yourself safe, began to speak through the glass.

“Can I help you?” You asked in an annoyed tone, then gestured towards the piece of paper that labeled your hours on the door. There was no reason for any customer to be here this early. You looked up at the mystery man and made a rather intense eye contact with him. If this was any indicator of your crowd today, work was going to be far from pleasant.

“Yeah, I was told that I’m starting today?” He had a wicked smirk on his face, like he knew he was getting under your skin already. You hated people like him, and couldn’t believe that he could possibly be your coworker. On the bright side, he probably wouldn’t last long in the first place.

“Well, are you sure you’re here on time? I can’t see any situation where Melissa would schedule to open for your very first shift.” You commented with a furrowed brow.

“Eh, I kinda just figured I’d come in whenever. The girl in my bed was an early riser, so I thought to myself ‘Why not just come in now?’” He said casually.

“Your name?” You inquired, trying to keep your annoyance to yourself, and put on a customer service smile.

“Hugh, or Ransom,” he responded. You turned around, allowed yourself a huff and eye roll, then walked through the kitchen, and into the break room to check if he truly was a new employee, or just some random creep. Sure enough, a bright pink post-it note in very neat handwriting confirmed this man’s existence. You made your way back to the door, unlocked it, and let him in.

“Since you’re here, you should… set down the chairs,” you told him, less than entertained by his presence. You could just tell he was bad news. This Ransom guy was like the textbook definition of a red flag. He talked your ear off while you tried to get through your opening routine, some casual remarks about his last hookup, complaints about how he only got this job because his mother was a regular and good friends with your manager, and how he was threatened to get cut out of his grandfather’s will if he didn’t get employed soon, and what better way to spite your family than to mess up their daily coffees.

Eventually, a few more of your coworkers, along with your manager, Melissa, made it to the café before the morning rush began. You were sitting down at your typical barstool spot, and sipping an iced Americano when Melissa broke the news to you that you would be training the new employee. Upon hearing the news, you audibly groaned, and rubbed your forehead. There was no way that you could handle this man.

-------

During his first week, Ransom not only managed to offer (and successfully give) six customers his phone number, break two mugs, mess up more orders than even Euclid could comprehend, and spill straws a multitude of times all over the floor, but he began to flirt with you relentlessly. You had no idea why you’d become his new target of choice, when it was clear that he could have literally anyone he wanted. Maybe he liked that you were playing hard to get.

If you were being honest, you had to accept that he was handsome. And rich. And the definition of a fuckboy. And since you were being frank with yourself, you had to acknowledge that you were attracted to that ‘toxic and will treat you like shit’ kind of guy. You had a roster of ex boyfriends to prove that for you.

---

It was a pretty slow Tuesday afternoon, which meant you were sitting on your phone until a customer placed an order. Eventually, the little bell above the door chimed, and an older man came through, ordering a dark and bitter drink, then standing by the counter to wait. You began to restock lids while Ransom took care of making the drink, and once it was ready, you passed it over to the man. The man in question took a rather large sip, then promptly spat it out.

“What the fuck is this!” He roared, barely giving you time to react before he proceeded to toss the drink at you, spilling most of the hot content on your apron.

You gasped, gawking down at your scorched and ruined clothing, then up at the customer, who’d turned around with a huff and left, leaving a stream of strong language on his way out. You bit back tears at the whole fiasco, and cringed as both the steamy drink, and your salty tears stung different parts of your body. You turned to look at the barista, who had passed you along the drink, and were met with no other than the white devil himself. It seemed that all the blood had drained from his already otherwise pale face.

“Oh my god, this is all my fault,” he began remorsefully. “Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, running a hand through your hair, and shoving Ransom angrily while you more or less stomped into the staff bathroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and frowned before bringing up your bundled apron to your face and screaming into it. Stupid fucking customers. Stupid fucking job. Stupid fucking Ransom. It’s like he came to your job just to make it hell. You were tired of cleaning up all these messes for him, and honestly, you wish he’d just quit already. The longer you worked with him, the more tempted you were to pour sugar in his gas tank, then take a club and break all the windows in the Beemer.

------

For the next month, your brain was completely elsewhere at work. Your brain was constantly going back and forth with you between finding Ransom hot and horrendous. While the pair of you finished up closing one night, you heard your coworker begin to speak to you as you placed your hand on the keys in your pocket.

“I know you hate me, Y/N. I get it. What that guy did to you was awful, and yes it was my fault, but what else have I done to hurt you?” He asked, seemingly out of the blue. You weren’t even sure how to respond. Ignoring the man and demonizing him in your head had become almost a second nature. “I mean, I think we could’ve been good friends. Even though you seem to think I’m devil incarnate, I think you’re a pretty cool chick-“ he continued before being cut off by you.

“Why do you even care?” you burst out, “Ransom, you just don’t get it do you? You’re just.. a douchebag. I get it, you have your moments where you’re candid and open with people, but half of the time you’re talking, you’re objectifying someone. Or bragging about something you own. Don’t get me wrong, I could get past what you did to me on accident, but you seriously have to work on yourself,” the words just seemed to pour out without your control. “Goodnight, Ransom,” you said simply before leaving the café for the night.

——

Since that day, the tension between you and Ransom had evidently become more thick. Since he was finally finished training with you, you made sure to only speak to him if you absolutely needed to, and even then, you only communicated with him in brief and straightforward answers. Sure, it seemed like a small thing to be upset about, and sure, he’d apologized, but something told you that any excuse to stay away from Ransom was a good excuse.

Though he appeared to be an immoral and selfish man, he seemed genuinely sorry for all that he’d put you through. Occasionally, you’d be sitting in the break room and look up from your phone to see him watching you. When you’d make eye contact, he would look like he wanted to say something to you, but your petty ass would leave, or look back at your phone. He was bad news anyway.

Your boss quickly caught onto what was going on between the two of you, and usually, Melissa didn’t like to participate in petty drama, but your new sour mood was such a stark contrast from before, and it seemed to shift the whole mood of the café.

That afternoon, Melissa called for a team meeting a bit before closing, and suggested a family dinner along with a Secret Santa. She’d said something along the lines of ‘It’s been way too long since we’ve done a team bonding activity, and a gift exchange is perfectly fitting for the Holiday season.’ This did make you perk up, as Melissa had a great taste in restaurants, and you were always down for a good gift exchange.

Melissa then told everyone to write their names down, then put them in a decorative Santa hat. You and your coworkers obliged, then began to pass around the hat once again in order to draw a name. You really hoped to get Xavier. You had the perfect idea of something he’d love. As you drew a piece of paper from the hat, you imagined the matching pair of fluffy socks for a human and dog that you’d passed by during your last trip to Target. You began to unfold it, thinking of what color he might like the most, when you looked down and saw ‘Ransom’ drawn out in chicken scratch.

You tried your best to mask your annoyance at who you received, but on the inside, you were seething. You mentally cursed the universe out while you pulled on your coat, and grimaced to yourself once you got out to your car. How were you supposed to get this asshole a gift?

—-

The week leading up to the exchange went fairly well for you, although it was getting a bit exhausting to be so mad at Ransom all the time. You tried to be less harsh with him, considering you needed to learn more about him in order to get him a somewhat decent gift for your exchange.

He’d seem to have taken your conversation with him to heart, and began to talk less and less about other girls when he was working with you. He didn’t comment on how well your jeans fit you, and you noticed that he’d often overextend himself in order to help you with (pretty basic) daily aspects of the job. Ransom would ask you questions about yourself, and your family, and speak less about himself. If you were honest with yourself, he was becoming a better man. And the best part was, he seemed to be doing it just for you. The thought of which brought heat to your face.

—

On the night of the exchange, you threw on a hideous and scratchy Christmas sweater before picking up your neatly wrapped gift for Ransom. You truly hoped that he’d like it, even though it certainly wasn’t the most expensive item. You bid farewell to your cat, then went on your way to the restaurant. You had to admit, you were a bit late. So it should’ve been no surprise when you arrived, and found that the only seat left at the table was next to Ransom. You gave him a cordial smile before sitting down and ordering yourself a glass of Merlot.

Something about being so close to him was kind of riling you up. The strong timbre sent coming off of him was making your whole body feel slightly warmer than normal, and you tried to ignore this strange sensation while you talked and joked with your coworkers. At one point, Ransom leaned in nice and close to you, and began to speak to you.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as hideous as Karmen’s sweatshirt,” he whispered right into the shell of your ear. Maybe it was the wine talking, but that simple action sent a whole chill through your body, and made you flush even harder than you’d flushed before. You let out a little giggle and nodded in agreement, looking across the table at her very ugly sweater.

“To be fair, the whole point of this was to wear something really ugly,” you turned your head back to where it was before, only to find that Ransom had somehow moved even closer to you.

“I just don’t know where you find something like that,” he commented, gazing much too deep into your eyes. You swore you felt the room shift after he began looking at you like that. There was about a 20% chance that you’d be able to keep your panties on after this kind of exchange. Luckily for you, a waitress broke the tension for you, setting down a few plates for everyone, then bidding them farewell. Damn.

The food was amazing, and didn’t last very long, meaning that it was time to pass gifts around sooner than later. You watched as Amy received a gift card from Sophie, Emily opened a plethora of chocolates gifted to her by Melissa, and Xander whiffed a candle given to him by Kennedy, then, it was your turn. You glanced around the table before you felt the arm next to you reach down, then hand you an oversized gift bag.

“I hope you like it,” Ransom said with a shy smile. You casually felt your cheeks on your way to pull out the very large item. You found it was a very large, and soft, hand knit blanket. It looked like it could’ve cost a small fortune, and you immediately found yourself embarrassed.

“Oh wow. This is perfect! Thank you so much,” you grinned over at your coworker, who seemed to be blushing himself. “Well, I guess I should probably give you this then,” you chuckled awkwardly before passing him your wrapped package. He tore it open barbarically, then began to laugh. Of all the gifts in the world, you two had gotten each other somewhat similar items. Sure, it wasn’t hand knit with the love of some grandma who ran a small business on Etsy, but it was the thought that counts.

“I love it, Y/N,” he exclaimed, looking deep into your eyes once again. He ran his fingers through the soft fabric, then set a hand on your arm. In that moment, it felt like time stopped. It was just you two, sitting in a quiet room, enjoying the presence of each other. You don’t even know what had gotten into you, but before you knew it, you felt a nose pressed up against yours, and a billion butterflies erupt out of your stomach. You heard a few grimaces from your coworkers at the sappy, Hallmark-like moment but what could you say.

Maybe Ransom was not that bad after all.

#ransom thrombey x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out fanfic #hey i wrote that lol

109 notes · View notes

chocosvt · 4 years

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⚬ pairing: demon!minghao x reader ⚬ word count: 3478 ⚬ warnings: blood, bodily injuries, death ⚬ genres: god i don’t even know... angst, unrealized pining and romance, weird tension, reader is just as evil as minghao?

✧✎ synopsis: three-hundred years have passed, and the second son has awoken from his slumber, waiting for a new soul to devour.

✧✎ a/n: this au was many things, and in finality, it morphed into this. usually i have a lot to say in my author’s note but today i bring you nothing! enjoy!

Three-hundred years had passed, and you knew due to the bell tower.

Its reverberations shuddered throughout the town, permeated the density of the smoke curtain which had swallowed the sky for centuries, and vibrated the very oxygen that fluttered in your lungs. It was a calling to check your mailbox, for reaching inside unveiled a folded note. At first, you glanced to your neighbour across the street, to the elderly man who lived on your right, and finally to the pig-tailed girl who’d just celebrated her fifteenth birthday on your left.

Yet they had retrieved nothing from their mailboxes exempt from a soft-spoken prayer, a testament to their gratitude that their lives had been spared. But you—you were the unholy meal.

With a sharp arrowhead of stone pressed to the skin between your shoulder blades, you were forced into the cavernous opening based midway along the mountain. It fed deep into the earth’s heart, and as a watchman pierced the spear’s tip further into your flesh, you began the cold, damp descent that would lead you to a deserved death, a death that could no longer be prevaricated.

After a painful stumbling over jagged flints and pieces of crystal, you emerged into the Blood Room, where three other contenders from the town were already aligned. There was not one look exchanged between either meal; however, you did recognize a specific helix piercing and the russet locks of Joshua, who you recently spotted dragging a body down to the ravine where the forest waterfall bubbled. Still, despite Joshua’s inept piousness, you knew he was not a meal worth being served.

A watchman approached you with a pocketknife. Splaying out your fingers, you observed calmly as he created a small incision against a distinct line travelling the length of your palm. As the dark, crimson fluid leaked from the wound, it was then collected in a glass dropper. Each watchman approached a scroll which hung from the stone. A drop of Joshua’s blood was tested first. It rolled about halfway down the sallow paper, which was impressive to say the least, indicative of even the boy’s worst transgressions.

The next possible meal had their sample beaded onto the scroll, though it had soaked up rather quickly, even before Joshua’s, and you knew their sins were pitiful and their soul was much too pentant. Similarly, the blood of the other meal drew short. You couldn’t help but think the contenders were quite pathetic.

At last the glass dropper containing your blood was being set against the paper. A slight squeeze, and the liquid bulb started its trickling. It streamed down boldly, leaving in its wake a luminous red tint that outshined even Joshua’s viscid plasma. You watched the bulb surpass one meal, then glide past the second meal, and just as you anticipated, the droplet rolled to the very end of the scroll. In fact, it began dripping onto the dust of the icy floor.

“The test concludes.” A watchman rumbled, his voice bouncing against the rock. His spear pointed toward you criminally. “Your blood runs the thickest and your heart beats the slowest. You are the unholy meal. The second son has awoken from this three-hundred-year slumber, and it is your soul he will devour so that he may be appeased and tire.”

You fought to keep an emotionless, flat face.

“Feed him well, for the weight of your blood carries more sin than purity.”

Briskly, the latter three contenders were swept away.

Joshua may have thrown his first corpse into the waterfall and watched it gush like a leaf down the black ravine, but his single body could not compare to the hundred that you’d left to float for years.

The bare bottoms of your feet were engrained with shallow cuts and stained by the powder to the numbing stone. You had not eaten or drank for over forty-eight hours, and your strength, which could often be as robust as great titanium, had seemingly dwindled to an emaciated, dried flower.

From the tales your mother relayed amongst your youth, you knew it was important to not make a face in the presence of the second son. Unlike his older brother, Jun, who would only be appeased by a meal who smiled and flaunted their guilt, Minghao chiefly adored a meal who showed no more emotion than the limestone tumbled along the mountainside. It was best to please the Demon Sons before they untied your soul from its fleshy bindings and swallowed it whole.

Or else in their next awakening, they might demand a meal of the entire village.

Minghao gestured to the garnet-coloured mat which had been lain across his bedroom floor. There were bowls of flavourful rice, steaming, clay pots filled with different soups, plates warmed by sliced bread and tin cups almost overflowing due to the plentiful wine inside.

“Hungry?” He asked, to which his soft, wispy voice was rather surprising.

Your countenance remained blank, unmoving, apart from your mouth. “Yes, I am starved.”

“Sit,” the second son invited, “I want you to be satiated and full, until you feel sleepy.”

Heeding his order, you sat cross-legged on the side of the mat opposite to the demon. His robe, embroidered with ruby lace, rippled behind his feet when he walked, and the collar’s diamond shape revealed underworldly markings which drew attention to the pale expanse of his chest. Even through the material cloaking his arms, you could faintly decipher the kohled tattoos. You had even recognized the familiar symbols chiselled into the walls during your trek to the demon’s chamber. When Minghao took his seat, he grabbed one of the black horns curling from his hair and dug his thumb into the pointed end.

“They are becoming weak,” he admitted, “I’m sure my brother’s wings are close to shattering from his broad shoulders. I’m sure the nerves are peeling and laughably brittle.” Minghao reached for a bowl, using wood chopsticks to fish the orange, tangy rice into his mouth. “You know, as first born, he is granted those wings. It’s his rite.” He lowered the bowl, a faded grin crossing his lips. “I remember, he used to embellish them with the bones of his meals, hanging their cervicals and metacarpals and pieces of their skull across each wing like a charm bracelet. But myself? It is not my meals’ bones that I save.” He shook his head, picking up another sticky rice ball.

Suddenly, the demon paused. “Are you not going to eat?”

It was difficult to speak when the interior of your mouth felt coated with chalk. Inclined by fear rather than your hunger, you reached for a bread loaf, then broke its golden crust in half, listening to the satisfactory crackle.

“I was absorbed by your pretty voice,” you spoke with not a single intonation, “forgive me.”

As you tore a piece from the warm inside and poked it into your cheek, the pottery bowl which he held broke into pieces due to the crushing grip of his hand, orange rice and clay shards spilling onto the mat. You had visibly flinched. The demon’s body trembled as he inhaled a slow, subdue breath.

“Dearest, if you ask me to lend my forgiveness, I will pierce a stake through your beating heart and pull it out onto my plate.” His teeth were claws in his mouth as he growled. “Do you understand?”

You hid your quivering, bottom lip by bringing a tin cup to your face, the slick formula of the wine flowing down your throat. It was thicker than the wine you drank at home, and there was a copper-like aftertaste that almost rendered your expression to pucker, but you remembered to keep staid.

“I understand.”

The void, starless nature to his gaze disappeared. Instead, his eyes returned to their settled oak. Allowing more wine to soak against your tongue, there was a distant familiarity to its unique flavour.

“Are there things you regret?” Minghao retrieved you from musing, and spooned some rosemary soup into his mouth.

Once more, you took another sip, swished the alcohol between your cheeks, and swallowed. The demon observed you with an intent eye. Something flashed against your memory. It was a pale face drained of its pink and lively colour. In fact, it was your husband’s face, Soonyoung’s face, right before you tipped his body over the ravine’s misty edge and into the gurgling chasm below.

He had been your last murder.

“I regret…” You began, lowering the wine, “I-I regret…”

A stutter. An emotion. An inkling of your distress.

Minghao’s grasp around the soup pot tightened and the tattoos needled into his flesh seemed to slither as though they’d been disturbed. Your mind grew stifled with obnoxious imagery. It was too much, all at once, and this dizziness spun at the centre of your cranium like a comet in orbit.

You leaned further over the wine, staring blurry at the liquid.

“I regret… I r-regret…”

Then it came to you, the underlying taste of the wine. So familiar because you should have known it better than anyone, especially considering your habitual dirty work, how often that fluid caked under your fingernails and spattered your clothing. No, it was definitely not the bones Minghao kept.

A moment later and you fainted onto the mat.

You awoke to a damp coolness folded against your forehead, and to Minghao who sat at the edge of his bed, where he had rested for three-hundred years. He removed the cloth and began dabbing it along each arch of your cheek, cleaned your jaw’s long edge, and at last wet your lips until they gleamed. Expelling a subtle breath, you kept your face as blank as possible.

“How do you feel?” He set away the cloth in order to sweep his sleight fingers down your temple.

“I’m well,” sounded your meek voice, “you have taken care of me.”

In between the black fringe that feathered the demon’s lashes, you met his eyes. Minghao’s hand slid to your throat, where his palm pressed flat against its column and his fingers curled taut with the sensation of hot steel.

He felt you gulp.

“I implore that you bathe. Rid yourself of this fabric which has been stained by wine and broth. I will leave you undergarments and a robe.” He leaned in closer to your face, and you couldn’t help but glance at his jagged teeth when he said so adoringly, “my wish is to paint you. I would like clean flesh.”

Clad in nothing but the undergarments, Minghao stood before your body, holding a wooden bowl. The inside was smeared with a rustic-coloured substance that almost bore the same consistency as honey. His chosen brush had fanned bristles, and when he stroked their wetness along your skin, it was a smooth, somewhat ticklish feeling. You found yourself enjoying it. Specifically the longer strokes, ones that began at the top of your shoulder and licked across the soft underbelly of your arm, only to gently flit away at the brittle bones in your wrist.

He decorated you in content.

As the boy lowered to his knees and illustrated unintelligible runes against your inner thigh, he was focused, sharp. Another dip into the wooden bowl, and Minghao moved to paint your other thigh. You examined the horns pushing between his hair. Without thought, you stroked your hand against one, feeling the small grooves that created every divot. The demon never stirred, but continued to paint down your leg, and you wondered if he truly hadn’t noticed your touch or perhaps quite liked the way you caressed him.

Despite the fact you were merely prey being toyed with until dinner time, when you looked at the demon who touched your skin and treated you with such reverence, you felt this unbeknownst tenderness in your heart.

As Minghao instructed you to raise a foot, he immediately stiffened.

“What is it?” You questioned flatly.

He set the bowl and brush down.

“Dearest, the soles of your feet are cut and raw. It appears worse than usual.”

You wobbled slightly, almost losing your balance. “I was shown no kindness on my journey to meet with you. Because I am your meal, I can ignore the stinging.”

“No,” Minghao shook his head and rose up, “I will wrap your feet in precious calendula leaves. The paint will dry quickly, then you can sit.”

“If I may ask one thing,” you remarked, fiddling with the sleeves of your robe, “how painful is it to have your soul devoured?”

Minghao plucked the last few calendula leaves from their flowers. The petals were rather striking, the aurora of a setting sun as you mother always described. It had been a longtime wish to see the sun one day, though considering your fate, such a dream must remain only that. The leaves swathed each foot with the help of a clear, sticky gel.

“Very painful.” The demon responded. He shifted next to you on the bed, then grabbed one of the orange flowers. “This is why we sleep so far beneath the crust, so the people do not hear the meal’s delicious screams.” He grasped your hand which had suffered a slit from the watchman’s pocketknife, and he began to rub a flower bud across the wound.

“Do you remember your last meal?” You asked, staring at Minghao rather than the skin’s miraculous healing.

The demon looked straight into your eyes as he grinned. “I do remember,” he sounded wistful, “it had been three meals, since the man I consumed in an even further past had greatly upset me.” Minghao dropped the flower, slowly interlaced his fingers with yours, squeezing.

“I had treated him well. I cleaned his cuts, I allowed him to bathe, I offered him my finest silk, and then, when we ate, I asked him what he regretted.” His hand became colder than ice. Minghao’s eyes started to widen, illuminate with a shiny madness, and when he leaned in closer your every facial muscle was begging to twitch. “He cried to me. Can you believe it? I had never been so upset. It caused me to fill with rage. He wept for forgiveness, absolution, a relief from his pain. Who am I, but a being who takes pain like a supplement? In that moment, I leapt across the dinner table and devoured him. His soul tasted like salt and alloy. I could not eat his heart, which was given to my brother. He will always eat the heart, because it so plumped full of your terrible emotion.”

The demon’s hand fit to the side of your neck, his thumb stroking along a particular vein where your pulse was thundering. “Well,” he sighed, “not your terrible emotion, but most peoples.”

In that moment, you took your deepest breath, and did not respond until you were certain that not one note of your voice would tremble. “I understand.” You placed your hand overtop the demon’s as it continued to cradle your neck, “did you paint this man too?”

“No,” Minghao shook his head, “I use my paints sparingly.”

With a soft fingertip, he began to trace a thin line he had brushed. It started at your jaw, then fell down the length of your warm neck. It dragged across your collarbone and in between your chest. Over the ribs, to your stern hip. The fingertip circled sweetly against your inner thigh a few times, and at last glided to your knee where the demon’s touch drifted away like a summer breeze.

“You are the most beautiful meal I have ever seen,” Minghao murmured, holding your gaze which threatened to water, “I was delighted to accent a body like yours, so gorgeous and strengthened by sin.”

Since your arrival at the demon’s bedroom, you knew it was vital to preserve a blank face, and yet, it came to a point where you could not restrict the whims of your emotion. A tear bled from your eye, your bottom lip started to quiver, and your brow pinched together in a wrinkle. There was fear to your gradual outbreak, but it was an infinitesimal fraction compared to your gratitude, that the second son could somehow honour you more than your own unfaithful husband, who’d been your last body discarded into the ravine.

In reality, how different were you to this demon? Year after year, the suppleness of your heart became hardened with immorality, pummelled of its empathy and completely wrung from compassion like a soaked, heavy towel. A common routine: dragging a corpse through the wildlife, your lips pursed and whistling the tune you’d overhear the pig-tailed girl humming on her front lawn. Dump the body. Return home. Peel an apple, bake a pie, and feed a slice to your next victim, watching the froth dribble from their lips as you sipped your drink and folded a leg over your thigh. But that was life under the cinder sky. It’s what kept people mad, what kept the demons fed. Either flee or have the light of your being rubbed into another dark ash.

The demon immediately turned rigid.

His spine bristled straight and the tattoos started to crawl beneath his robe, rustling like serpents who navigated the tall grass. You figured your death would be the most painful, since you had not only broken at the last minute, but soiled the significance to Minghao’s paints, casted the illusion that you were not appreciative of his gestures. In a snapping wrench, he practically tore you from the velvet blanket, dragging you to a door in his bedroom.

When it was opened, a frigid wind dusted at your face, and a slender corridor was revealed, stretching so far that it led into complete blackness. With a hand against your lower back, Minghao shoved you into the tunnel.

“Go,” he demanded, his words echoing off the stone, “go and do not turn back.”

Your voice was breathy, confused, “I don’t understand. I-I—”

“It leads to an opening at the opposite side of the mountain. You will leave, and you will never-” he gripped your chin, and his gaze intruded even the most clandestine pockets to your soul, “ever return to this town. Escape these cinder skies. I will not repeat myself.”

Before you could make sense of anything, before the door could be slammed in your face, your solace left to the rock and damp air, you slipped a hand around the demon’s neck and kissed him. His mouth was just as soft as his voice, and when he angled his head to better taste the tears that stained your lips, you felt it would be impossible to make this journey alone. The silk of his tongue brushed inside your mouth, causing your knees to tremble, therefore you gripped weakly at the demon’s hair. His sharp teeth pricked your bottom lip and it welted ever so slightly with blood.

“Come with me,” you begged, pressing your forehead to his, “please, do not go back to sleep.”

But Minghao merely giggled, and the fact that such an innocent sound could leave the chest of a demonic entity had disoriented you.

“What creature are you?” Minghao hummed, “that I can see your emotion and only want to hold you closer? Maybe it is because you are the first meal to bare no regret. You know your flesh is stitched by the sin of your own hand. Even your sweet tears. Oh! My brother would adore you! Though he would’ve devoured you by now no doubt.” He gave a gentle shove, removing you from his body.

“Will you please come find me?” You entreated.

Time was of the essence. The tenebrosity seemed to have a curl on your ligaments, tugging you backward into the tunnel.

Minghao smiled, his hand reaching out to wipe the blood from your sore lip.

“Dearest, I will come find your dark soul anywhere,” sounded his honest purr, “but I suggest you travel hastily. If I leave, I must first wake my brother, and the rage of a demon whose slumber has been interrupted... It cannot be compared to anything. I’m afraid you’ll faint again.”

Trusting that Minghao would seek you out, you began the journey down the tunnel, your hand swiping against the stone and your feet taking calculated steps. Amongst the black air, there was no concept of time. Seconds, minutes, hours, they felt ineffectual in a place where not even your own fingers or toes could be seen. Eventually, you came to a light that burned against your eyes, and emerged at the opposite side of the mountain, like Minghao promised. And as you padded into the jade forest, you felt one final vibration shake the pine needles scattered across the earth, heard some boulders from the mountainside crumble down in swirling, dry dust clouds.

Shuddering, you knew it had been the abhorrent cry of the first born son. And for once your compulsion to escape the grey skies was a real desire.

✧✎ a/n: yes.................... :) thinking that i could also make an au for jun in this universe? i will have to do some Major Thinking. i still have nothing to say! like i don’t know where this au crawled out of, but it’s Here now. it’s pretty morbid n freaky sfeheff but nonetheless i hope you liked it and as always i luv hearing ur guys TH0TS.

#seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #seventeen minghao #minghao scenarios #xu minghao #minghao angst #minghao fluff #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #minghao fanfic

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strawberriestyles · 4 years

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Chapter 18

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: YAY FOR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. When you’re finished reading, please sign this petition to reopen Sandra Bland’s case. (If you’re somehow not familiar with her story, a simple Google search will give you any info you need.) Then please come talk to me about Ferocity. Enjoy, boos! Xx

Harry was almost elated, throwing jabs at a punching bag. There was some high to be found in the monotony, the routine of training, even though he no longer had anything to be training for.

It was late afternoon and the street outside glowed, dunes of snow glistening where they had been packed along the edges of the sidewalk. Melody had told Harry that she and Sean liked to train in the morning, but today, Sean has pushed their time back. And Harry was grateful that he’d been allowed to tag along.

Melody was in the ring, sweat dripping down her torso as she slammed her gloves into Sean’s mitts. Harry, as much as he tried to focus on his own swings, was watching her form—the space between her feet, the twist of her body, the rippling muscles in her arms, the way her lips formed around each outlet of breath. It was almost surreal to see her employing everything he’d shown her, back before she’d been anything more than mildly interested in boxing. Sean had really shaped her up.

The pair paused. Melody stripped off one of her new, customized gloves and took a long gulp of water. She passed her bottle to Sean, who squirted a mouthful past his lips, and then nearly choked as he laughed at something Melody had said. Both of their faces lit up. Melody turned toward Harry and he whipped his head around, returning to his punching bag with a new intensity.

He was still throwing hooks when he felt a gentle tap at his shoulder.

“I’m done,” Melody said. She dropped her bag on the floor beside him and pulled a thick hoodie over her head, freeing her ponytail from the collar. “I’m running home. You can take a cab if you want.”

Sean passed them on his way out the door and lifted one hand in a wave of farewell, pointedly avoiding Harry’s eyes. They’d spoken, but the strange tension had yet to diffuse.

“No,” Harry answered with a shake of his head. “I’ll run with yeh.” He didn’t yet believe that she’d imagined Colton outside the grocery store, and even when her anger and hurt over her birthday was fresh, he’d had trouble letting her out into the city on her own.

Melody nodded. Harry tucked his gloves into her unzipped bag and then pulled the strap across his body. He’d kept his sweatshirt on during his workout and it was drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to his neck. He still hadn’t grown used to the inability to tie it back.

Cold air rushed past them as Melody opened the glass door out onto the street. A light flurry had begun. Clumped snowflakes swirled around them, churning up their hair, melting against their cheeks. Harry blinked against a bitter wind and Melody kicked off the pavement, picking up a steady pace in the direction of the apartment. Harry stole a deep breath and followed, swiveling her bag around so that it beat against the bottom of his back in time with each step.

The city was dimmed and muffled. All Harry could hear was the drag of his lungs and the slap of his sneakers against the sidewalk. He kept his eyes on the soles of Melody’s shoes and hopped beside her when they reached busy intersections, only for her to take off again when the lights changed, leaving him in her wake.

By the time they reached the apartment building, Harry had to drag himself up the flights of stairs, panting. He fell through the door to the kitchen, kicked his shoes off, and dropped Melody’s bag at the entrance to her room.

Melody was already tearing her hoodie over her head and stripping off her pants as Harry sank into the edge of the mattress. She shivered as she removed her underwear. And she could feel Harry’s eyes on her but when she turned around he was staring at his feet, combing his fingers through his hair, still trying to catch his breath. She tugged on the hair tie holding her ponytail.

“Are you coming?”

Harry glanced up, confused. Melody was naked, skin glistening, with color in her cheeks from exertion.

“What?”

“The shower,” she said. “Are you gonna shower with me?”

Harry let out an uneven breath. “Yeh want me to shower with you?”

“Sure.”

Rising to his feet, Harry yanked his own clothes off. He wasn’t going to wait until she changed her mind. Melody was waiting in the doorway when he finished and she grasped his hand as he reached her. He was too stunned to say anything. And then they were in the bathroom and the water was running, and Melody stepped into the stream.

Harry hung back, watched her wet her hair. Dye colored the rivers that ran down her back, pink-tinged red, from when Bea had recolored her hair the week prior.

“Harry,” Melody prompted. She pulled her hair over one shoulder and held a hand out to him.

Harry nodded, more to himself, and stepped over the lip of the tub. He drew a sharp breath between his teeth as the water scalded his shoulder, but he pulled the shower curtain shut behind him.

“Sorry,” Melody whispered, lowering the temperature. She pressed Harry back by the chest once she’d adjusted the water.

Harry placed his palm over Melody’s fingers. It probably wasn’t the case, but it was like he hadn’t felt her touch since dinner that night, when she’d kissed his cheek, tugged on the ends of his hair. He closed his eyes as water ran down his cheeks in rivulets.

“You didn’t really think,” Melody uttered, “that I forgot your birthday, did you?”

Harry sighed. He let his head fall forward as her hands looped up, around his neck, stroked the top of his spine. That wasn’t exactly what he thought. More so that she was ignoring his birthday, not that he had an incredible desire for a celebration.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Melody whispered, barely above the thunder of the water. She stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He held her close to him.

“Thank you.”

Melody’s mouth settled at the top of Harry’s chest, just below his collar bone. She scattered a few kisses across his skin, until he nudged her with his chin. “Mel,” he whispered.

She sighed and took a step back, lifting one of his hands to press her lips against his scarred knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have just ignored you,” Melody said. She cradled his hand to her chest. “There are other ways for me to—”

“I don’ blame yeh for ignorin’ me, Mel.”

“It’s immature, Harry. It’s stupid. I could’ve gotten over it while still talking to you. I’m sorry.”

“Yeh don’ need to apologize to me for shit,” he insisted. “I don’ care. I deserved it. ‘M so sorry.”

Melody blew out a breath and dropped his hand. “You didn’t. You didn’t deserve it. Ignoring each other is not how we should be handling our problems. I really am sorry. But thank you for trying to fix it, Harry.” She reached for his face, tucking the curling edges of hair behind his ears. “I know it’s only been a few weeks but I’m really proud of you. For talking. Even if it’s not to me. It’s important.”

Harry grunted. She smiled at the familiarity of the sound and tugged on him, until she could meet his lips, water running into her mouth. It felt like tension drained from her body, and the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his arms gathered her up, it was like he didn’t have a single other care.

“Missed yeh,” Harry mumbled. He twirled the ends of her hair around his hand and tugged, tilting her head back, deepening the kiss against her smiling mouth. “Think I owe yeh birthday sex. And maybe a redo for New Year’s.” The thought of it still made him cringe.

Melody laughed, clinging to one shoulder as he kissed down her jaw, tracing the side of her neck with his tongue. “I think I still owe you from your last birthday, actually,” she responded.

Harry frowned, but Melody was sliding between his arms before he could ask, settling gently on her knees at his feet.

“Only done this once before, remember? You always have other ideas.”

“Because yeh don’ need to, love.” Harry watched her blink up at him, lick the rolling water from her lips. He pressed his teeth painfully into his tongue.

“Want to,” she said. Her fingertips raked up his thighs as she kissed his lower belly. He rested a hand against the wall of the shower, suddenly lightheaded.

Melody stroked the length of Harry’s dick, feeling it grow between her fingers. She swept a sheet of dripping hair back from her face. The water fell hard against her back. Harry sighed from above her and let his eyes fall closed, reluctantly, as she sponged kisses up the underside of his cock.

“Really don’ need to—”

“Shh,” Melody whispered. She pulled the hand that hung limply at Harry’s side to her head. Her mouth slid over the tip of his dick as his fingers laced into her hair.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, blinking down at her. Melody’s eyes were closed, but her fingers were tight around him, her mouth warm as she fed more of him past her lips. Her tongue roved across his skin and he groaned.

Melody shimmied forward on her knees, shifting out of the water until her back was to the wall, turning Harry with her. She lowered her head until he reached the back of her tongue, and then pulled away for a quick breath, pumping her hand up and down his cock.

“Ah, fuck,” Harry uttered, leaning his forehead into the shower wall and screwing his eyes closed. If the stream of water hadn’t been washing him clean, he was sure his skin would be slick with sweat.

Melody’s chest ached with her next inhale as she watched his tongue swipe along his lips, the divot between his brows deepening. She kissed the head of his dick and then closed her lips around him again, bobbing her head. The fist in her hair grew tighter, knuckles bumping against her scalp, and it only spurred her on. She pressed herself forward until her nose touched Harry’s belly, until she felt his muscles jumping beneath his skin.

“Baby,” he moaned. His throat tightened. How many times had he called her that without realizing? “Mel, stop.”

She pulled off of him with a gasp, tilting her face up toward him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

Harry blinked back at her, water running from his hair. Her face sparkled with droplets like jewels beneath the bathroom lights.

“I just wanna fuck yeh, love.”

Melody’s hands curled into fists against his thighs. She licked her lips, amusement playing at their edges. “Harry, you stopped me last time too because—”

“Because it feels like a waste when I could be fuckin’ yeh. Please,” he muttered, loosing his grip on her hair and sliding his thumb down her jaw. “Feels so good but ‘s been weeks since I felt yeh on me.”

Melody groaned, but she let him pull her up against the wall, fitting his hands to her waist, licking into her mouth. She clasped her fingers at the back of his neck and reveled in the familiar feel of his lips against hers. His palms slid up her ribs. The pads of his thumbs pressed into her nipples and she hummed, stretching her spine, filling his hands with her breasts.

Harry squeezed at her indulgently but his cock throbbed with impatience. His hands hurried back down her sides, grasping the tops of her thighs and hoisting her up onto his hips.

“Go on then, birthday boy,” Melody whispered, kissing the edge of Harry’s jaw and then drawing her teeth along his neck. “Fuck me.”

Harry’s cock twitched again. He pressed his body against Melody’s as he guided himself inside her. “Christ,” he hissed into her ear. “Fuck, yes.”

Melody sighed, linking her ankles together at the base of his spine. When she was fully seated on him, her breath caught.

“I hate when we’re mad,” she mumbled, pressing the back of her head to the wall of the shower. “Please, let’s not be mad again. Fuck.”

Harry shook his head and shifted his hips, testing his point of balance and making sure that his feet wouldn’t slip. “Fuckin’ torture when yeh won’ let me touch yeh.”

“Torture for me, too,” Melody said, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. “Always want your hands on me. Watch you do anything and it feels like I’m gonna catch on fire if I don’t feel you touching me.”

Harry groaned, lifting her weight and aiming his first thrust. Melody’s lips fell apart as she sank back down around his cock.

“Touchin’ yeh enough now?”

She nodded quickly, turning her nose into the side of his neck. “Yes.” Her voice cracked as he bucked against her.

“Miss my cock when yeh’re not talkin’ to me?”

Melody only now felt her skin flush, despite the constant, stifling heat of the shower, the burn of Harry’s skin where it met hers. She clung tighter to him and hummed a quiet sound of assent.

“‘S okay,” he mumbled against her shoulder. His mouth closed around a spot of flesh, teeth prickling as he sucked on the skin. Melody winced and then released a strangled moan when he fucked into her. “Takin’ me right. Cunt’s nice and tight on me. Can feel how much yeh missed it.”

Melody’s shoulder pulsed, even as Harry pressed gentle kisses to it. She shivered as he continued to whisper to her. And her belly tightened when his fingers pressed greedily into the flesh of her ass.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry breathed. He forced an arm between her back and the wall, pressing her chest forward, chasing the weak spasm of her pussy with eager thrusts. “Gonna squeeze me again? Make me come, baby?”

“Please,” Melody choked out. She placed her hands on either side of Harry’s face as he pulled back from her shoulder, pressing his forehead to hers, watching her eyes flutter, wet hair clinging to her cheeks.

“So fuckin’ close,” Harry said, fingers curled against Melody’s hip. She kissed him messily, water still spilling between their mouths. It only took another few strokes for her to gasp, tipping her head back, moaning loud enough for the noise to echo between the walls of the bathroom.

“Yes, tha’s it.” Harry grunted, nose to the underside of Melody’s chin, slamming forward to empty himself into her. His legs trembled and the hand at her hip turned, palm flat against the wall. “Fuck.”

Melody caught her breath and then twisted her head, lowering her face until she could meet Harry’s lips. She kissed him slowly, stroked his wet cheeks with her thumbs. His chest heaved against her and his breath came in wild rasps over her face, down her neck. She pulled her lips between her teeth, biting at them.

“God, what the fuck is wrong with me?”

Melody blinked in confusion, her nose bumping Harry’s. “What?”

He ducked to slide his face into the curve of her neck. “Makin’ yeh upset enough not to have sex with me,” he elaborated. “Three fuckin’ weeks. How the fuck did I go three weeks without that?”

Melody smiled lazily and ran her fingers down his spine. The water was beginning to grow cold as she wiggled in his arms, and he set her back on unsteady feet, flinching away from the stream.

“Love you,” Melody whispered, reaching to turn the temperature up. She stood on her toes to press a final kiss to Harry’s lips, stroking his cheek, and then stepped beneath the water to soak her hair.

***

The sheets laid in a heap at the end of the bed. Melody’s cheek was pressed to Harry’s shoulder, her ankle looped around his leg, fingers tickling the skin of his chest, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at ease.

He was full of cake. Bea had baked it for him, surprisingly. And she’d given him a wig that had been disturbingly reminiscent of his long hair—“I realized the longer your hair, the less of your face I have to see, and it just seemed like an all-around win.” Sean had sent a present for him, too, despite his cool attitude earlier in the day. There was a brand new gym bag in Melody’s closet.

Melody’s gifts were scattered about the room. A fresh pair of training shoes, a set of wireless earbuds, and a couple of Fleetwood Mac records to play on her turntable. Harry had snorted when he’d opened those.

“You do like them, don’t you?” she’d checked.

“Yeah, yeah. I do. Love Fleetwood. They’re my mum’s favorite.”

He glanced across the room at the cover of Rumours, propped against the wall on top of Melody’s dresser, the picture of them in a brand new frame right beside it, as he raked his fingers through her hair. He was so close to sleep. But on the other side of the bedroom door, he could still hear Bea and Josie laughing at whatever film they’d chosen for the night.

Still no luck with Josie. The wig was strictly a gift from Bea, although Josie had snuck a large slice of his birthday cake. She took her food seriously.

”Harry,” Melody spoke, suddenly very much awake.

“Hmm?”

“My, um...” Her fingers stilled on his chest and then she scratched the tip of her nose. “My mom wants me to invite you to her party.”

“Your mum’s throwin’ a party?” Harry chuckled. “Is she still that young?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” Melody smiled and then let it fall away rather quickly. “Its for her birthday. In April. It’s like...my mom is kind of flashy. She likes to have this sort of mixer thing every year with her rich friends. And everyone gets all dressed up and she pretends we have even close to the amount of money they have. It’s kind of embarrassing. And I have to go. I haven’t seen my parents since July, I think. But she wants you to come.”

”Oh.”

“You don’t have to go. I told her you probably wouldn’t want to. It’s honestly—”

“No, I’ll go, Mel. I’ll go with yeh.”

Melody tilted her head back. “I’m serious. You don’t need to.”

“D’yeh not want me to come?”

“What?” She shook her head. Harry saw the dark bruise on her shoulder, remnant of his mouth on her skin. “No. I mean, of course I’d love if you came with me. But it’s the first time you’d be meeting my parents and I know that’s a lot of pressure. I didn’t know if you’d want that to be at some snobby party.”

“Yeah. I’ll come with yeh, love.” He didn’t tell her that meeting her parents would be one of the most uncomfortable experiences he’d ever had, no matter the setting.

“I don’t know who you are,” Melody said with a gentle laugh, delivering a hard kiss to his cheek. “But they’re dying to meet you.”

Harry hummed, running the tip of his finger over the purpling mark on her skin, watching it change shapes in the dying light.

Chapter 19

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles x ofc #boxer!harry #boxer!au #harry styles ferocity

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littlemessyjessi · 3 years

Text

Torn: Remus Lupin Story: PS OC:Chapter Four: Ninja

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Remus Lupin Imagine Turned Story

Re-Written and Edit of an old story of mine I had on Mibba that deserved some more love and attention, lol.

Remus Lupin x Vega Black (OC, OFC, PLUS SIZE OC, PLUS SIZE OFC)

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"Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us."

- Virginia Woolf

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

Song that inspired the vibe, lol. I literally listening to this while writing it.

“Get Off of My Back”- Bryan Adams

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It had been three weeks since the incident and Vega was once again in the hospital wing. Not for injuries this time but instead helping Madame Pompfrey. During her brief stay, she found many things about the Healer that interested her. When a seventh year Quidditch scrimmage went wrong and poor Jeanette McDonald was carried in almost unconscious...she jumped into action clearing a bed and getting Madame Pompfrey's kit. Vega, it would seem, was a rather natural at this kind of thing. She assessed the situation, analyzed the details and sought out the proper ingredients...all while jumping into action very quickly and keeping a cool head. For a first year, it was rather impressive and Madame Pompfrey had offered her a spot on the Early Healers program. It was rather odd for a first year to do this but she seemed to have natural talent. After her discussing her outstanding work in Potions with Professor Slughorn along with her impressive talents in Charms and Transfiguration according to the other Professors....Madame Pompfrey felt it a true waste to not at least entertain the idea. Vega had jumped at the offer. It was all very exciting to her and though it was stressful...it was extremely rewarding. She felt a sort of passion for it as she worked as assistant to the school's resident Healer. However, at that moment in time...something sour had settled in her stomach because Remus Lupin was laying in the hospital bed looking extremely worse for wear. Madame Pompfrey had initially told her that she would deal with it alone but upon seeing his wounds...she called for the quiet girl. "Pat the wounds." she said quietly, as to not waking the sleeping boy. Vega steadied her hand as she cleaned the blood from her friend's chest. "What goes on here is secret." Madame Pomfrey told her. "What you see and come to know stays here. Do you understand?" The young Black nodded. "They are not our secrets to tell, Miss Black." she said and Vega simply nodded. She didn't know what had happened to Remus but she had an inkling of a thought. She desperately hoped she was wrong but she was far too smart and read far to many books to believe that. She had her suspicions, of course. She was very observant and had noticed little ticks of his that tipped her off. But she just...she didn't want to believe it. But after this. The full moon, the horrible sounds last night and now here he was looking almost ripped to shreds....she'd be stupid if she denied it. Remus Lupin...was a werewolf. She finished him up with Madame Pompfrey before helping the woman with the necessary potions. The Healer told her she was finished for the night and to go and get some supper at the Great Hall. She was tired but a violent rumble from her stomach told her that bed was not an option at the moment. She was almost there when she heard a familiar laugh behind her. "Well, if it isn't the itty bitty baby Black." Vega bit her tongue. Bellatrix.

She really wasn’t in the mood for Bella and her childish antics.

Not today.

Not after the week she’d had.

Not after she’d spent so much time with her own hands drench in Remus’ blood.

Not after she’d spent so much time in her head worried about him. "I believe Regulus is less cowardly than you are...and he's not even in school yet." she teased. Vega turned to stare at her cousin.

“Go away Bella.” she said. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Oooh, grown a bit of backbone have you?” Bella sneered. “Good, it’ll be all the more fun to break.”

“Get off my of my back, Bellatrix!” Vega snapped as her anger bubbled. Bellatrix was flanked by her Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphous Lestrange. "What the matter?" she taunted. "Scared? Maybe we should sing a song for the baby? What was it that the blood traitor used to sing? Oh, yes! Row, row, row your boat...gently down the stream...scarily, scarily, scarily, scarily, life is but a SCREAM!" Vega’s stomach churned as Bella turned the innocent song her father used to sing to her into something sour and dark. Her cousin cackled manically. "She's scared boys!" she erupted. "Look, she's shaking!" But Vega was not scared. She was angry. She was shaking because she was trying to keep from drawing her wand. Bella smirked, "Get her, boys." Vega braced herself for a moment before something washed over her...and she changed.

She was done.

So done. Rodolphus was first and when he came at her she pulled her foot back and landed a hard kick to his chest before using the force to spin around and kick Lucius in the nose....effectively breaking it. Bella snarled at this unexpected rebellion and drew her wand. However, Vega was quicker and bellowed, "Expelliarmus!" Bella's wand flew into her hand and she gasped. Vega arched a dark brow at her cousin and said, "One more move and I snap it in half." Bella almost growled but there was still clear shock on her features at this unbridled attack. "I'll get you for this you little blood traitor! We're cousins!" Bella snapped. "Yes, we are and you've done nothing but torment me since the day you met me. I've had enough. The next time, I won't be as lenient, Bella. The next time...it'll hurt." Vega told her very seriously. "Now get out of my face.” Lucius and Roldophus skittered up to their feet, the blond leaning on the other for support as his nose bled profusely. "My wand." Bella pressed. "I'll give it to Andromeda. She can decide if you get it back." Vega told her, staring her down with stormy grey eyes. "You little-!" "Or would you prefer I take it to Slughorn...or perhaps Dumbledore?" she challenged and Bella bit her tongue before sneering and heading off after her friends. Vega watched them go and let out a deep breath only to tense up when something grabbed her. Only...she couldn't see what it was. Something had her....that she could tell...and it felt soft. She hesitantly reached out and grabbed it. It crumbled in her hand and she pulled it off to reveal a disheveled, well more so than usual, James Potter. "James!" she gasped. "What the?" "Vega, that was brilliant!" he exclaimed as he hoisted the little girl up and twirled her around in the air. "Sirius, will be so proud!" "Don't tell him!" she rushed out with panic in her eyes. "Tell me what?" She looked past James' horribly messy dark hair to see her cousin looking at her with an odd look on his face. He looked between her and James' rather compromising position with an arched brow that mirrored Vega’s own almost identically. It seemed to dawn on them and they backed away from each other. "So?" he pressed, curiosity clear in his grey eyes. "What wasn't I supposed to know?" Both were silent. James was dying to tell his friend...but he hated to betray Vega like that if she really, truly didn't want him to know. "James." Sirius pressed, looking his friend in the eye. Well, he tried to. If James hadn't been avoiding eye contact like the plague. Sirius glanced at Vega again before his eyes drifted down to her hand. A grin overtook his features. "Is that Bella's wand?" Vega sighed sensing the inevitable.

"Yes!" James exploded. "It was amazing, Sirius! She was incredible! Like some kind of ninja! She broke Malfoy's NOSE! And she disarmed Bella and send them on their way, sassed them into oblivion!" Sirius grinned but then his eyes narrowed, "And how do you know this?" James shrugged and held up his Invisibility Cloak. "And you were just doing to watch?" Sirius pressed, irritation growing at the prospect of James standing by and letting Vega get hurt.

Again. "Well, I was gonna step in if she needed help but Andromeda did say to let her fight her own battles....and she was great!" he said before looking at Vega. "It was really impressive." Her cheeks flushed red. "I'll see you later." she told them. "I'm starving and if I don't eat something soon, I might attack someone." James dramatically cleared the way, "By all means, Great Ninja of Ravenclaw. Lead us to the bountiful mountains of food. I, Sir James Potter of Gryffindor, shall accompany you into the journey of badassedness in exchange for lessons on your mad skills." Vega and Sirius cracked up at that and the three of them headed off to the Great Hall for something to eat. She headed for Ravenclaw but instead Sirius pulled her over to sit with them. "Sirius." she pressed. "I'm not in your house." "It's fine." he rolled his eyes. "Besides...I want to hear how you smashed stupid Malfoy's nose to smithereens." She scowled at him making him smirk. "You tell me or I'll have James tell it...and the more he repeats things...the wilder they get." he warned her as the very boy in question was currently retelling the story to an older Gryffindor...this time saying that Rowan was a jujitsu master.

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Chapter Three

Chapter Five

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Hello my lovelies!

Woooo child! We got some friction! How do we feel about Vega fiesty retaliation? I’d love to hear from you!

Here is another rewrite of a previous work of mine that I had on Mibba! I did a bit of reworking on the character, her name and her backstory because I just felt like she deserved more! I would love to know what you think of little Vega!

So please comment, reblog with thoughts and/or smash the ask box! I do so love hearing from you my loves!

Love,

Kenny

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@frankie2902

@pleasantdreamqueen @becrazy–beyou

@littledeadrottinghood @blackirisposts

@therealmrshale @woodworthti666@thegreatirene@fanfictionandjunk

@angelus320

@alanlizzingtonshore@buriednurbckyrd@disneymarina@tubbypeachwriting

@sullybot @georgiagrl1990 @whenallsaidanddone

@mischiefnevermanaged94 @inumorph

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Love, Kenny

#remus lupin #remus john lupin #remus lupin x vega black #remus x vega #marauder #marauder era #marauder era remus lupin #young remus lupin #sirius black cousin #sirius black sister #vega equuleus black

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margoshansons · 4 years

Text

Desperate Measures 15/?

MASTERLIST: (don’t ask about part ten)

Summary: Raven undergoes a terrible operation to save herself, and Finn recruits delinquents for a mission. Y/N is one of them.

warnings: surgical procedures, swearing, canon-typical stuff

notes: I’m finally back with a chapter and hopefully I’ll be able to update regularly again. Tbh, I feel like no one cares about this story anymore, so seeing it receive some new love has made my heart very very happy. Based on 2x02 “inclement weather”

***

Bellamy paced his cell, the wire digging into his wrists as he waited for another interrogation. Byrne, Sgt. Miller. It was only a matter of time before Kane decided to show up. It was only a matter of time before he had to face the man who had helped float his mother.

Today was that day apparently.

The door slid open. He had seemed taller on the Ark, more intimidating.

Down here he was just another adult who was playing with things they didn’t understand. Another adult who refused to believe them.

“How long are you gonna keep me locked up in here?” Bellamy sighed, his shoulders slumping.

Kane crossed his arms, “As long as it takes until I’m sure you’re not a threat to others.”

He resisted the urge to scoff. The only threat they faced was the grounders.

“Those are my people out there” Bellamy growled, his irritation starting to get the better of him, “I should be out there looking for them, not--”

“You shouldn’t be doing anything” Kane cut him off, tone stern, “Your time of being a leader is over.”

Bellamy clenched his jaw. His time of being a leader will never be over. As long as his people survived, he would do whatever it took to keep them that way.

The sound of metal dragging on metal caught him off guard, Kane sitting down on a lone crate, gesturing to another one he had brought over. Bellamy knew the drill.

Here came the interrogation.

“I need you to tell me everything you know about the grounders” Kane paused, inhaling, “and my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” Bellamy asked, arching an eyebrow.

Kane creased his, “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

Bellamy decided to play his game. “I know Y/N Franco survived a bullet wound to the leg and was one of the hundred who managed to make it back home. The rest of my friends are out there, probably dying and you’re sitting here acting like the real threat isn’t out there torturing our people!”

“That’s enough!” Kane barked, teeth grit in brewing anger, “If you aren’t going to help me, then I’m afraid I can’t let you go.”

As the new Chancellor stood up to walk away, Bellamy chuckled mirthlessly, remembering what Maria had said so many times before.

“She was right” Bellamy called out, “You’re not her father.”

He watched as the Chancellor buried his emotions in a fist, slowly turning around with an ease he had only seen Y/N wear before.

The two men eyed each other, never losing eye contact as Kane sat back down, hunching over to lean in closer to Bellamy. The interrogation continued.

***

Her leg throbbed, but she could walk. The bullet had been safely removed, and she was thankful Murphy was a lousy shot.

She was thankful Murphy had only hit the muscle.

Raven wasn’t as lucky.

Y/N stood beside Finn, watching anxiously as Abby discussed what needed to be done to save Raven.

“The bullet is still shifting” The doctor informed the mechanic, “I was hoping it would stabilize by now.”

“So take it out” She and Raven spoke at the same time.

Abby and Jackson shared a nervous look, unable to hide anything from anyone down here. No one was.

“Raven” Abby’s tone turned gentle. “The bullet is pressing against your spine, if we leave it in you’ll live but...you’ll never walk again.”

Y/N swallowed at the news. On the ark, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Zero G solved that. Down here? With grounders abundant and new threats popping up everywhere? Where they needed their legs to run? Raven needed to walk. Raven needed that surgery.

“Take it out” Raven pleaded, showing no sign of backing down from her decision. “In zero g I didn’t need my legs. Down here I do.”

Abby sighed before nodding slightly to Jackson. She felt Raven’s calloused hand snake itself into her own, eyes pleading with her.

“Will you stay?” The weakened girl asked, “please?” Y/N nodded, leaning down, her leg still hurting but she ignored it. Raven was going through much worse. She could deal with a little leg pain if it helped Raven.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She replied, brushing a hand over her friend’s hair. A weight knelt down beside her and she caught Finn staring intently at his ex, grasping her and Y/N’s hand in his own. “Neither am I” He spoke softly, his gaze never leaving Raven’s.

“We’re almost ready” Abby called, turning Raven on her stomach before lifting up the mechanic’s grey tank top, marking the infected area with a black marker. Y/N felt her breathing shift. Raven’s grip grew tighter around her and Finn’s hands, a silent plea.

The scalpel made its way to the marked area, ready to cut into her--

“Stop!” Raven cried, a tear streaking down her ashen face, fear flickering through her eyes. “I’m so scared” Her voice broke and Y/N broke along with it.

This was her best friend.

More than that. They were sisters. They grew up together. They were meant to change the world together. And now the strongest person she knew was breaking down before her eyes.

“Hey” Y/N whispered, drawing Raven’s attention away from the surgery, “Look at me and Finn.”

Understanding swirled in her dark brown eyes.

She squeezed their hands together.

She was ready.

Finn switched his gaze to Abby.

Y/N’s never left Raven’s.

“She’s ready” Finn announced.

The screams were deafening.

*** Bellamy’s blood became ice as screams rang through the small compound. What if it was Y/N? She had been scheduled for surgery. What if the screams were hers? What if she was suffering and there was nothing he could do about it?

“It’s not Sparky, if that’s what you’re worried about” Murphy deadpanned from across the room. Irritation flashed hotly through Bellamy’s body, the traitor’s voice not helping his anxious state. “She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.”

He clenched his jaw at the statement, because against his better judgement, Bellamy knew Murphy was right. Y/N would refuse to scream during surgery, especially if it was just a bullet to the leg.

Before Bellamy could respond to the true statement, the doors slid open once again, revealing Kane and Byrne ready for another interrogation. Except this time the subject matter was one person.

The same person he had been thinking about minutes before.

“What the hell happened to my daughter?” Kane’s eyes were ablaze, searching back and forth between the two men, desperate for answers. Kane turned toward Bellamy, stalking forward, “You told me grounders don’t have guns.”

“They don’t” Bellamy spoke calmly, slightly unnerved with how desperate the Chancellor seemed. No one had ever seen him this vulnerable. Or this angry. “You wanna know what happened to your daughter?”

Kane clenched his jaw, the slightest nod answering the question.

“Ask him.” Bellamy gestured toward the opposite wall.

Toward John Murphy.

***

Y/N exhaled, wanting to cry tears of relief.

She had made it. Against all odds, Raven Reyes had survived.

“She’s a fighter” Abby pointed out later, wiping the scalpel and tweezers clean of the crimson liquid. “You all are.”

Y/N smiled shyly at the compliment, her thoughts drifting toward Bellamy. “Some of us more than others.” She murmured.

Abby froze, turning around to face the engineer. “You want to go see him.”

It wasn’t a question.

Y/N nodded.

“Please Abby” She pleaded, “If you knew what Murphy’s done, what he did to me, Raven and Bellamy, you wouldn’t have him locked up.”

The doctor sent a puzzled look before glancing between the two girls. Her mind began to weave the pieces together, an incredulous look on her face as Abby threw another glance at Y/N’s freshly stitched up leg.

“This way,” was all Abby said, pulling the engineer forward through the curtains of the med tent until she landed in front of a panel that looked out of place. “You can exit through there, your dad’s waiting out front, but this should be able to get you past him and Byrne.”

She threw her arms around the woman who had saved her and Raven’s life, grateful that she had someone in this camp on her side.

Her feet stepped out onto the grassy fields, sunlight streaming across her face, blinding her vision and heating up her face as she soaked up the yellow rays. Her boots crunched against the patches of dry grass underneath her as she managed to find the entrance to the newly dubbed Camp Jaha.

She avoided the awestruck gazes of her fellow Ark citizens, every one of them knowing exactly who she was. The poor orphan from Mecha station taken in by Marcus Kane. Before she was thrown in solitary with the rest of the delinquents to be sacrificed for their sick experiment.

Before she was sent down to die.

Alpha station was exactly the way she remembered it. Down to the last piece of scrap metal that had fallen from the sky. The metal walls confined her. Everything was too small.

She couldn’t believe she ever thought this was the biggest thing in the world.

The earth was a never ending maze, the same way she had viewed Alpha at one point, and now Alpha was nothing to her. A confining box meant to keep everyone in line.

She peeked down the corridor leading to the stockade, watching the guards, wondering if there was some way to cut the power so she could sneak in unseen.

An arm on her shoulder caused her to flinch.

She whipped around, senses on fire as she drew her fists, stopping when she met the shocked face of David Miller.

“Sgt. Miller?” She asked, disbelief crossing her features. The Chief of the guard relaxed, all the tension gone from his shoulders as he recognized the face in front of him.

“Y/N,” The chief breathed, “I’m so glad I found you. Did Nate follow you back at all?”

She froze at the question.

For the first time since being discovered at the dropship, she allowed her thoughts to turn toward those she failed. Miller, Monty, Jasper, Clarke.

All gone.

Taken.

By grounders or something else. But it didn’t change the fact. She hadn’t saved them. She had failed them all.

“I’m sorry” She swallowed, ignoring the guilt pressing against her chest, “I don’t know where he is.”

David’s face fell.

“I broke my promise” Y/N admitted, voice thick with emotion, “I promised you I’d take care of him, and I--I failed. I’m so sorry.”

He left with a broken smile and a pat on the back. His words ringing in her head long after he was gone.

“You did what you could.”

No she didn’t. She should’ve gone after them. She should’ve stopped hiding. She should’ve tried to fight off those who would try and harm her friends. And now she was paying the price. A hand grasped her bicep and pulled her backward, pressing her against the wall, a hand covering her mouth.

Her eyes narrowed when she saw who it was.

“Finn?” She spoke through his hand, the muffled sound muted by the flesh against her lips. The long haired delinquent shot several paranoid looks behind his shoulder before whispering his plan to Y/N.

“Your dad lied about the search team. Finding our people, going after the grounders, all of it. They’re not going after our people Y/N,” Finn informed her, his eyes bugging out of his head, “So we’re taking matters into our own hands. Monroe and Sterling are on watch, you and I are going to sneak in and free Bellamy. What do you say?”

He gently lifted his hand free from her mouth to let her give her answer.

It was a reckless plan. And there’s no telling whether the grounders even had their friends in the first place unless they managed to build smoke bombs. But it was better than anything she had come up with.

It was better than staying here and failing again.

“I’m in.”

Sneaking in was marginally easier than she expected. Especially with Marcus putting several guards in front of the door because he didn’t like how close Bellamy had gotten with her. Thank whatever higher power above for secret passages.

They had kept her safe from Marcus’ disappointment on the Ark and now they’re going to help her save her friends.

“Get up” Finn instructed, Y/N using the pliers to cut the zip ties around Bellamy’s wrists, “We’re going to save our friends.”

Bellamy’s skeptical look disappeared as he rubbed his raw wrists. Anger stirred in her chest at the sight of the red lines, but she shoved it aside. She would deal with her father later. Right now her friends were in trouble.

“About time,” Bellamy smirked, turning toward Y/N, “Your idea?” She shook her head, “Finn’s, and we gotta hurry. Now.”

Bellamy grasped the pliers from her hands and moved toward the opposite wall, her anger spilling out of her as Finn finished her thoughts for her, “What the hell are you doing?”

He had cut Murphy free.

“He’s the only one who’s been to their camp.” Bellamy explained as if Murphy’s presence being needed was the most obvious solution in the world.

Y/N rolled her eyes, moving forward to meet Murphy, “You shoot me again, and I promise I will kill you.”

His response was cut off by the appearance of Monroe, “Hey, Sterling just signalled, someone’s coming.”

The four of them ducked out, closing the panel behind them as Alpha station dropped them back by the medical tent.

“You’re late” Abby scolded, David by her side as their flashlights lit up the area surrounding the gate.

“Bellamy decided to bring company” Finn retorted.

Bellamy sighed, pulling Murphy’s bonds tighter, “He’s the only one that’s been to their camp.”

The two adults nodded before handing off the firearms to the delinquents, David entrusting his own pistol to Y/N, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Find my son, his name is Nathan Miller.”

She didn’t need to know that.

She knew exactly who to look for.

She knew exactly who she had failed.

***

DM Taglist (closed): @chloe-skywalker @im-a-writer-right @clarkewithameme @shatteredlovesick @your-typical-giggle @rhyxn @amongthewildthingss @furiouspockettoad @niammain @cxddlyash @lena-davina @kaylinfayezink @gingerxarmy @super-marvel-dale @travelnottogoanywherebuttogo @nerdbookish @valeskasecco @strangerliaa @simsvetements @molethemollie @thebookisbtr @im-a-stranger-thing @jordangdelacruz @oopsiedoopsie23 @multifandombookstore @okj232 @asian-male-enthusiast @minigranger @jooheonbee @libraryoffandomsuniverse @pancakefancake @weird-pale-blonde-person

#the 100 imagines #the 100 imagine #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake x kane!reader #bellamy blake x franco!reader #bellamy blake imagines #bellamy blake x nightblood!reader #fic: desperate measures #series: desperate measures #the 100 fic #the 100 fanfic #the 100 fanfiction #bellamy blake fanfic #bellamy blake fanfiction #otp: you have me #my fics

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crypticpaw · 4 years

Text

Cat Bath

Entrapta X Hordak fic!

Author’s note: This is an entrapdak fanfic written by me! I wrote it as feral because that’s the way I draw them so I just thought it would be fair. If you don’t understand what’s going on, just search #entrapdak on my blog and take a look at my artwork! I’m not very confident on my writing and I feel like there’s a lot of stuff I need to improve on. Tell me what you guys think! I hope this is fun!

Please, tell me how I went! I hope you all like it, and let me know if you’d like to see more! Thanks for reading!

-Why are you always so licky?! -Entrapta asked in a anoyed tone. She tried to suppress a low growl, still writhing underneath Hordak's paws, caught on another one of his "grooming" sessions. Which normally meant sitting her down and licking her entire body, leaving her a pouting and blushing mess.

This wasn't new. Since they first started to allowed themselves to show physical affection, Hordak was outraged at the fact that dogs don't groom themselves, and made it so every now and then that Entrapta should be groomed. Even if he had to chase her and grab her by the scruff to do so.

-Stop writhing! - he said, still with his tongue at her ear. -We would have been done by now if you didn't struggle!

Entrapta let out a whine of protest as he left her right ear to lick her belly. She felt her cheeks warm up and pushed his head with her hind leg. He growled loudly, it didn't faze her not in the slightest.

-Entrapta, we've been over this! I groom you so your fur won't tangle and the already dead fur won't stick to your body! It's healthier this way!

-Then why don't I see you do it?

-Because I don't have as much fur as you. -he caught her midway out of his grasp, and flipped her on her back again. -And I don't try to fight it!

She barked and whined trying to writhe away from the cat's paws, her face redder than a tomato. It did not seem to faze Hordak, though, as he continued his work on her sides this time. Entrapta's ear fur embraced and tangled around Hordak's body, despite the protest. She knew grooming was also a sign of love and worry, based on her observations. His tail was wrapped around her ear fur and sometimes when she was silent, she could hear very low purring.

Entrapta did not want to be silent today. Hordak decided it was a good idea to stop her midway into a brilliant experiment to lick her clean and she would not go down without a fight.

-Why DO you do this, anyway? -she asked in a huff.

Hordak sighed.

-I told you. It's that so your fur won't tangle and the dead fur can leave so healthier fur can grow on it's place. -his licking grew softer. She made a mental note to get him to talk more during grooming session. -And it also keeps it smooth and clean.

Entrapta frowned.

-Smooth and clean? You're not cleaning me! If that's your objective, you're making it worse! You're just slobbering me! I thought you hated slobbering! -she protested, confused this time.

-I am not slobbering you! I do not drool! I am not a dog! -Entrapta stuck out her tongue at him at that last sentence. -And how else are you supposed to do to brush your fur if not groom it?

-That's easy. I just use a brush.

It was Hordak's turn to be confused. His ears perked up and he tilted his head at her statement.

-A brush...?

-Yeah, like one of these. -her fur left his body for a second to reach the drawer on her nightstand beside her bed. She took out a strange tool, smilar to a screw-drive but had bristles at the end of it and a lot of purple fur.

He sniffed it, still not understanding her point. It just smelled of her...

-Hordak, have you never seen a brush before? -Entrapta was surprised. He always was so worried about his appearence and makeup and everything, very picky with dresses and sometimes even insisted she get changed for some reason. -How do you even brush your fur after your baths?!

-I told you, I groom myself.

-Doesn't it taste like soap after you bathe?

They were both so confused.

-Beloved, why would I ever put soap in my fur before grooming?

-No, not grooming! -Entrapta shook her head. -I mean after an actual bath. You know... Soap and water and shampoo?

Hordak wrinkled his nose and his ears pressed against his head. Red teeth showing.

-Why would I ever groom in water? I despise it! -he hissed.

Entrapta's ears fell and her eyes widened as the realization hit her.

-Hordak... You have NEVER taken a bath?!

-Well...

She gasped loudly.

-LORD HORDAK OF DRYL, ARE TELLING ME THAT YOU'VE NEVER BATHED IN YOUR LIFE?!?

She was raised on her ears, her fur on her scruff was tingled and her teeth were showing. Her tone was loud and severe, almost comanding. Hordak was taken a back as she continued to lecture him.

-That's nasty, Hordak! Even I know better than that! -she barked. -That's irresponsible and highly anti-hygienic! Now I'M disappointed!

Entrapta's ear fur now gripped strongly around his body. His ears fell back and his tail hid between his legs.

-We need to get you to the tub asap! -she jumped out of bed and made it for the bathroom door, but Hordak dug his claws on the bed and screeched in protest when she pulled him.

-Absolutely not! -he yelled. -I am not going one meter close to water! I'd rather have my skin grow mold! I understand your worry for my well being, Entrapta, but I will do just fine grooming myself! There is no way in this world I'll get in a bath tub!

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

Hordak yelled and clawed at the edge of the tub, desperately trying to get out. Entrapta's ear fur still held an iron grip around him, pulling the more he struggled.

-THIS IS RIDICULOUS! I DEMAND YOU RELEASE ME THIS INSTANT, ENTRAPTA! -He tried to sound menacing, but his words came out as desperate more than anything. -IT'S A WASTE OF TIME AND RESOURCES! I CANNOT BELIEVE-

He was cut off by a stream of water dropped in his scalp. He screeched, yowled, clawed and paddled, but Entrapta was holding him still, watering him with the shower hose. She grabbed her shampoo, conditioner, sponge and everything else she thought would be necessary and hopped back at her shouting mess of a lab partner.

She brought him to the edge where she stood and shushed him with a kiss on the lips. Hordak's face turned red, even redder than it already was, and he turned to her in anger.

-WHY ARE WE STILL GOING THROUGH WITH THIS?!

-'Cause you're still dirty, silly! -she answered in a fake innocent tone.

Entrapta took one of her bottles and poured it's content on the water.

-What is that?

-Bubble bath mixture! It makes the water all bubbly! -she mixed the water with a strap of her fur and bubbles started to form.

-What for? -she gave him the now empty bottle and he read the label: "Extra Bubbly! For extra fun in the water and extra comfort!".

This was not comforting at all! He threw the bottle over his head and clung to the edge of the tub again, digging his claws on the marble. Entrapta took off her mask and wiggled her hips before jumping right in. She raised out of the water again and shook her head before turning to him.

-I just like it bubbly! How's the experience of your first bath so far?

-Hellish! -he hissed. -I've been striped bare out of my armor and clothes! I've almost drowned in bubbles, and I am still being held captive in this idiotic joke of a torture room!

Entrapta couldn't help but laugh. Hordak could see her tail wagging on the water, splashing bubbles around. She grabbed the soaked sponge and paddled to him.

-It's just a bath, Hordikins! It's for your own good! Not a torture session!

-I doubt that! -her laughter rang in his ears again. He eyed her strange tool as she approached him. -What is that?

-It's a sponge! For scrubbing!

-Scrubbing...?

-Yup! Like this! -she reached with the sponge and scrubbed his neck gently. He immediately started clawing and screeching once again.

Anyone out of the bathroom would swear Entrapta was probably degutting Hordak alive, but the Lord of Dryl's first experience in a bath tub was simply not going smoothly. He questioned her in her shampoo and conditioner as well. Entrapta tilted her head.

-I won't get any chemical substance on you, you big dork! It's just shampoo! It's made to wash your fur! Like this! -she poured a little on her paw and smoothed her fur with it.

Hordak watched her in awe. She seemed so calm and relaxed, he couldn't understand It. Wasn't she cold? Couldn't she smell at all? She turned back to him.

-See? It wasn't that bad! -pouring more in her paw again, she climbed on him to get to his fur on his head.

He tried backing away again, but was already cornered. He did not shout, but still growled loudly at her paws on his fur.

-I still don't get it... You seem so worried about your appearance overall, I assumed you took a lot of baths in addition to grooming! -Entrapta explained. -Why are you so scared of water?

-I am not scared! I'm... I'm bothered... -Hordak lied.

-Buy why?

He growled and took a deep breath. Hordak was terrible with his words when saying his feelings out loud. Even for Entrapta.

-My... Body temperature dropped drastically, and the soap and the shampoo... Smell! Awful!

Entrapta stopped and turned to look him in the eyes, cupping his face between her paws so their noses touched.

-I'm sorry, I didn't realize it. I can turn the temperature higher if you want?

He nodded. She left his face to adjust the tap. In a few moments the bathroom was filled with vapor and Hordak felt his muscles relax.

-Do you feel better? -she asked in a genuine concerned tone. -The smell bothers me as well and the shampoo and soap I use are already pretty weak, so I didn't thought it would bother you... We could find one that doesn't smell so bad.

-Thank you, beloved...

She kissed his forehead and a low purr escaped out of him. She wagged her tail again when his claws drew back.

#entrapdak #entrapdak fanfic #entrapdak fanfiction #she ra and the princesses of power #she ra #spop #she ra fanfic #fanfic #writing #fanfic writing #entrapta #hordak #hordak is a nasty cat #fuckin' bath time #lol #fluff #crack fanfic #my writting

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duker42 · 5 years

Text

🎃👻Kinktober 2019 October 31st👻🎃

Day 31: (Free for All) Mommy-Daddy/Threesome/Dominate-Submissive

“Mmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhh!” Y/N treaded her fingers through his longer brown locks As he lapped eagerly at her wet pussy, two fingers curled into her like Levi had shown him.

“That’s right, brat. Eat Mommy’s pussy for her. Do a good job and you can fuck her.” Eren moaned into her clit as he continued to lick up and down her slit.

Levi’s voice was erotically husky as he commanded the boy’s movement in the bedroom. His hand in between Eren’s spread thighs and lifted ass cheeks to rub the tip of his cock as he worked to please his Mommy.

“Just like that Baby Boy!” Y/N breathed as his green eyes flashed in pleasure of her approving words while he watched her reverently.

His hips pushed back slightly as his Daddy worked his shaft gently, stimulating him further. He had started stroking him as he worked, a tiny reward for following their commands so well tonight.

He loved the feeling of Y/N and Levi dominating him together. He was theirs to play with, pet, order around, suck and fuck as much as they wanted.

It had started with Y/N. The motherly vibe she had given off had lured Eren in. Her acceptance of his anger at his inability to save his own mom and her comforting him during those times when his guilt ate at him. He had developed a crush on her, innocent at first but growing stronger as their days of isolation in the cabin grew.

Captain Levi had been incorporated into his crush because of his relationship with Y/N. Hearing them have sex had at first made him feel guilty, like he was listening to his parents, but over time he found himself getting hard at the grunts and moans coming from their bedroom.

And watching them, fuck, watching them. He had found himself outside their door every night, his cock in his hand as he peered in the keyhole of their bedroom door. Watching as they teased and fucked each other. While they talked about the squad. Eren had almost cum at the mental image of Y/N bending him over and spanking him the day she told Captain that sometimes she want to beat his ass.

It wasn’t until Y/N and the Captain had chewed him a new asshole about some mistake he had made that he realized he viewed them as his Mommy and Daddy. Not in the you’re my parents kind of way, but please punish me and make me your bitch kind of way.

His balls tightened under the ministrations of Daddy’s hand milking his cock, another hand fondling the low hanging sacs as he did. Daddy chuckled as he withdrew his hand, making Eren whimper at the loss of contact. “You are such a good boy. Would you like to fuck Mommy now?”

Eren nodding, still lapping at her clit as he did. He felt Daddy pull his hips up and grind his own hard cock against his Baby Boy’s hip. “Remember” he whispered, his breath hot against Eren’s ear. “You can’t cum. Be a good boy and I promise you’ll be rewarded.”

Eren shuddered as he licked his ear and guided him on top of Y/N. Levi’s hand was around his cock as he moved him into position. Eren waited, knowing he wasn’t allowed to move until he was told. He felt Daddy push against his ass with his hands, forcing his hips down as his cock sank into Mommy’s pussy.

He groaned loud and uninhibited as the feeling of her around him made his eyes roll back. “Such a good baby boy. You fill Mommy up so nicely.” Y/N cooed underneath him. It was so hard not to just fill her up with his cum when she praised him. But if he did, he wouldn’t like the consequences.

Mommy rubbed her gorgeous breasts, drawing his attention to those wonderful nipples that he aches to suck on. He wanted to nurse like a baby while letting them teach him how to please them. But he knew he couldn’t, he hadn’t been good so he didn’t get to suck of them today.

His ass still stung from the punishment he had received before the fun had started. They had each taken turns making his ass bright red from forceful strikes of their hands. His cock had twitched painfully by the time they had finished and he was desperately wanting to have them use him.

Daddy pulled him back and force, his hands in Eren’s waist as he set the rhythm. He shuddered every time he felt Daddy’s hard length brush up against him. His puckered hole throbbed with anticipation of maybe getting fucked tonight.

After they were going steady, Eren plunging his cock into Mommy, he felt Daddy pushed a lubed finger suddenly into his ass. His moan filled the room as his back arched and his hips paused as he savored the feeling of his Daddy’s finger pushing deep inside him.

“Keep going brat, you don’t want to disappoint Mommy, do you?” Eren whimpered are the idea and started thrusting into her harder to make up for his mistake.

Mommy released her pinched nipples and stroked his hair that had fallen down in his eyes. “You’re such a good boy, Eren. You’re making me feel so good.”

He felt his body flinch at her words of praise, his release getting closer as her flatter washed through him. The finger in his ass had become two, pumping into his core hard, curling to find his prostate with ease.

Daddy never made it easy on him. Always challenging him to contain himself, training him to last longer. The last time he had failed and had cum in Mommy, he had been force to clean her out with his tongue, eating his own cum. He still thought about how hard he had been while being crouched between her thighs.

Mommy’s pussy tightened around his cock, her eyes closed and her voice breathless as she cried out. “Oh yes baby! Make Mommy cum! Oooohhh right there! My baby boy’s cock is soooo good!”

Her juices coated him as he felt his own orgasm start to build up. Daddy knew him better than that thought his feel hand reached between his legs and wrapped around the base of his sac and squeezed with firm pressure.

Eren cried as he felt his orgasm subside from the pressure. As soon as Mommy stopped shaking underneath him, Daddy pulled him back and onto his hands and knees.

“You almost did, didn’t you?” Daddy whispered. He ran his tongue up Eren spine causing him to shiver. “You we’re going to cum in Mommy’s pussy like a naughty boy. You know only Daddy can do that.”

He withdrew his fingers and his hand from his balls making Eren whimper in protest. “Hush baby, you know Daddy’s going to take care of you.” Mommy chided as she pushed herself up to lean against the headboard to watch the show that was going to be put on for her.

Daddy bit down on his shoulder, making him gasp as he pushed his ass back to him, eager to be filled by Daddy’s cock. He heard that low sexy chuckle from Daddy as he rubbed the tip of his cock up and down Eren’s spread ass cheeks.

The first inch of Daddy’s cock always made him cry out, the bulbous tip piercing the tight ring of muscles. After that, it was pure hedonist pleasure as he worked his thick, long cock into his tight passage. Eren moaned like the little whore he loved being, making Mommy smile indulgently at him.

“Daddy feels so good, doesn’t he?” Y/N murmured to him, leaning forward and giving him a soft kiss as he nodded, his green eyes wide with pleasure.

“It because our baby is so strong, Mommy. Look at him, he takes my cock so well.” Eren flushed at the praise he was getting from both of them.

The thrusts were hard, Daddy pounding his cock deep into Eren’s ass. Hunching over him he had his slender fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking him at the same tempo of his thrusts.

“Such......a.....goooood.....boy.” Daddy gasped between strokes. He was getting closer, Eren could tell. Thank the Gods because he was about to explode from the pleasure of having his ass fucked and his Daddy’s tight hand moving over him.

Mommy had already started fingering herself, spreading her pussy wide for Eren to watch as she moved her fingers in and out of that wonderful cavern.

“Ha!...Cum...for....me...!” Daddy pushed deep as he filled Eren with the hot spunk he loved. His command drove Eren over the edge, his cock jerking in Daddy’s hand as his own release shot out, cover his hand and the sheets below, the long stream almost hitting Mommy where she was watching.

**Knock, Knock** “Eren? Dinner’s ready.”

His eyes shot open at the sound of Y/N’s voice. His hand flying over his cock as his balls drew up tight against his body.

“Eren?”

“I-I’m c-cumming!!!” He cried as his orgasm ripped through him.

The hot rope of milky white cum shot out of the tip of his throbbing cock as he gasped for breath. The force of the shot caused it to land next to his head on his pillow as his hips lifting into the air. His hand still furiously pumping himself through the last of his release.

“Okay...come downstairs before Sasha eats it all.” Y/N said before he heard her steps retreating down the stairs.

Eren laid there, his heart pounding and his breathing harsh as he came down from his euphoric high. He turned and looked at the wet thick cum on the pillowcase next to him.

Sighing he got up and removed the case, using it to wipe himself up as he thought about the obsessive fantasies he had about Y/N and Levi.

Hopefully one day it could happen, but for now he would just imagine all the wonderful things they would do to him.

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elizacornwall · 3 years

Text

Vengeance is an Idiot's Game - Chapter 22 - Harmonica

Read all the published chapters here. -------------------------------------------------- Two days went by and there was still no word from the rescue mission. Lenny had been sent off with Bill Williamson and John Marston for something and they came back with a big grin on their faces, depositing their share in the camp lockbox proudly. Eliza had only once snuck a peek into the ledger, feeling bad not having been able to contribute more than a couple of animal carcasses for dinner. Everyone else was pulling their weight, she would have to find a way to make money soon. It was past midday, her chores for the day were done. The sun stood high in the sky, heating the air something fierce. This was without a doubt the hottest day of the year so far and she decided to go for a walk, to clear her mind. Since her self-admittance to the fact that she cared enough about Charles and Arthur to worry about them, she could barely think about anything else when she wasn’t occupied with some chore or conversation. Sadie had provided welcome distraction, recounting tales of robberies, rescues and other adventures involving her that Eliza had read about, but from her own perspective. Her accounts matched the base details well enough, but the real event was often less glamorous and much more gory. After hearing her describing how she shot, stabbed and choked her enemies to death, she was glad she didn’t have the woman as her enemy. She seemed to take pride in her work, leaving a mess wherever the bad guys had been holed up, and even though Eliza still admired her for her strength, she didn’t quite feel the same urge to become just like her anymore. This morning though Sadie had mounted her huge, mean looking mare and set off for the day, to scout out a homestead north of Valentine after Tilly had brought a tip back to camp. No gory stories today.

She let Miss Grimshaw know she was heading out for a bit so no one would be worried, and set off down to the river, the gun Sadie had bought her tucked in it’s holster on her hip. She was briefly shown she how to load and use it, Sadie had promised a proper shooting lesson soon. Eliza dreaded it, but it was a necessary evil if she was ever to fit into this life properly. Descending the hill carefully on foot, she aimed towards the river, for a nice long walk. Soon she wished she had taken a hat with her, the sun was burning onto the crown of her head even before she reached the shore, but it was too late to turn back now. Trying to cool down she took off her shoes and stepped into the water, walking along the riverbank. The stream was nice and cold, providing a bit of relief. Her mind was wandering as she followed it upstream. It had been four days now since Dutch had sent the guys out to rescue MacGuire, an operation that should have been completed in a couple nights at most according to Hosea; she had overheard him and Dutch talking. During those last few days she had managed to draw Molly’s anger (Dutch still liked to join her at the drop and seemed to spurn Molly’s company in favour of Eliza’s), Uncle’s attention (the old drunk had never tried to touch her, but had offered plenty of compliments that made she skin crawl) and Strauss’ contempt (he wanted her to help him persuade a poor widow to take a loan and she refused out of sympathy for her), so she didn’t overly enjoy her time in camp at this time. Miss Grimshaw kept her and the girls busy, but Karen was still worried sick over Sean, so the four of them weren’t as carefree and chipper as usual either.

A herd of deer skipped over the river as she watched them, her eyes lingering on the last doe that was struggling to catch up. The buck made sure to wait for her, only following the group when she was safely across. This made her smile.

Her mornings were still following the same routine as before, getting up early, making coffee and enjoying the sunrise at the drop. Only now she realised how much she missed Arthur’s company, especially when the only alternative at hand was Dutch. Morgan barely talked, just stood or sat with her either drinking his coffee, smoking a cigarette or sketching in his journal. He would sometimes comment on birds that were flying past or animals down in the valley, but unless she initiated the conversation he’d stay quiet, leaving them both to enjoy the peaceful morning. She missed his presence, easy and content by now after the initial awkwardness whenever the two were alone had gone. They had learned to appreciate each other’s silence.

Lost in thought, she was walking for a good hour when she saw the waterfall. Cumberland Falls Charles had called it, and told her about the little cavern behind. Realising how sweaty and gross she felt, an idea struck. It wouldn’t be like a proper bath, she didn’t have any soap for starters, but a quick wash would be lovely, and she wasn’t likely to be discovered behind the roaring masses of water. The path wound upwards to her right and she stayed close to the river, following the increasingly rocky shore beneath the cliffs. She had to climb over some tree trunks and boulders, winding her way through a couple bushes before she could see the fallen log that conveniently led up to the ledge behind the falls. Careful not to slip on the wet wood she made her way up and took a deep breath before she hopped through the heavy curtain of water. It wasn’t as violent as she expected, but she could feel the force behind it clearly, making her wonder what would happen if someone got trapped down below. The thought made her shudder. She reached the small outcrop Charles had spoken of and decided this would most definitely do well as her own little personal bathing space. She peeled out of the wet clothes, stripping down until she was completely naked and stepped towards the water, mindful of slippery spots beneath her bare feet. The cascade was cold and fresh and rinsing herself down felt incredible in this heat, just what she needed. When she decided she felt clean enough she soaked her clothes, trying to give them a quick wash too. Without soap they wouldn’t be perfect, but there was no harm in this. She laid out her skirt on the rocky floor and sat down on it, closing her eyes and enjoying the cool, fine spray that landed on her face like thick mist. This was much better than enduring the tense atmosphere back at Horseshoe, everything felt so far away and she could finally relax a little, letting the worries run off her like the droplets of cold water on her back. She would stay here for a while.

The completely soaked clothes were a nightmare to get back into, but she wasn’t about to emerge from the waterfall naked, not knowing who might happen to pass by and witness her in all her natural glory. They felt so heavy, climbing back out onto the shore was much more difficult than getting in and she made a mental note of taking a second set next time, or at least a gown she could cover herself with whilst hopping in and out. Because there would surely be a next time, the hidden cave had felt like a little piece of heaven to her. She found a patch of grass not far from the falls and laid herself out to dry in the sun, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon. She wouldn’t dry off completely but didn’t mind. The soothing murmur of the river and the distant thunder of the cascading water lulled her into a slumber.

When her eyes opened, it was dark. The stars were twinkling on the sky above her and the crescent of the moon illuminated the night gently. She felt a slight chill, her back was still wet from the water of course, she hadn’t intended to doze off and stay out so late. The people back at camp were probably wondering where she was, so she climbed up the slope to the path and set off. It took over an hour to get back and as she was approaching the camp she could hear music and laughter. A guitar. Eliza’s steps quickened in unison with her heartbeat, and as the forest drew back and she walked into camp, she could see the fires burning bright, people gathering and chattering joyously and there was Charles, sitting at the round table and to be the first to notice her. In a few big strides she closed the distance between them, he was barely stood up from his seat to greet her as she crashed into him, squeezing him into a tight hug. He staggered backwards for a moment, then caught himself and returned the embrace, chuckling.

“You’re wet”, he noted in his manner-of-fact tone, “did you go for a late night swim? I thought you might have left us, just going off and disappearing like that.”

She let go and looked up to him, a wide smile on her lips. “I was just out for a long walk and a bath. I thought you boys might have gone and died on us!”

She let her eyes sweep over the people in camp. Javier was sat at the camp fire with his guitar, a young man with ginger hair she had never seen before stood near him, giving a speech in a thick Irish accent; Sean MacGuire she presumed. The only person she couldn’t find was… Her heart dropped.

“Where’s Arthur?”, she asked Charles. Did he not make it back, was he -

“Here he comes”, Charles nodded his head towards a spot behind her and she spun around.

There he was, rough and tired and with a few days worth of stubble on his cheeks, but there was a happy, relieved look in his eyes as he neared, Sadie walking beside him. Eliza’s body moved before she could gather coherent thought and she threw her arms around him as she had with Charles, pressing her head against his chest. Thank God he was safe.

“Huh- Hey there”, he muttered, slight confusion in his voice. He had tensed up at her touch but relaxed a bit now, patting her shoulders awkwardly. “Good to see you too, Miss.”

Glancing upwards at his face she suddenly feared she had overstepped a line and quickly withdrew her arms from him, stepping back. Already she could feel the blood rising to her cheeks and hoped it wouldn’t be obvious in the dark.

“I was so worried about you all! What happened?”

Arthur scratched his chin and pulled a grimace before he answered, “O’Driscolls. There was a whole lot of them, so we had to lie low. Seems they knew what we were planning, whole way back was covered with them dirty bastards and we had to hide for two days after one of ‘em saw us.”

“I would have just shot the whole lot. They all deserve it”, Sadie piped up. “Our little doe here got all frightened, thinking you was in trouble.” She had a slanted grin on her face and her eyes was fixed on Eliza with a look she wasn’t sure what to make of. Her cheeks burned even hotter, she must have gotten burnt by the sun, sleeping out in the open for so long.

“I’m just glad you’re back safe.” She beamed at the broad shouldered man, turning around to Charles. “All of you. That’s Sean I assume?”

She pointed to the Irish guy who was now stood with the girls, loudly and unashamedly courting Karen who played hard to get. And that after all her grumbling and worrying over him.

“That’s Sean alright”, Arthur confirmed, “Dutch called for a party soon as we got back.”

He shot a look towards the big tent in the middle of the camp, where van der Linde stepped into the night at that exact moment.

“Come on. How about a song?” he shouted. Javier at the guitar started strumming the strings in a new melody and Uncle who sat next to him recognised it.

“The Louisville maid! Come on everybody, everyone knows this one!”

Charles and Arthur laughed and headed towards the fire, while Eliza stayed with Sadie, sitting down at the poker table.

“In Louisville I met a maid, Mark well what I do say, And she was mistress of her trade, It was diddle-diddle-diddle all day!”

Javier and Uncle initiated the song, soon joined by Karen, Sean and Arthur. It wasn’t a particularly complicated tune, and no one seemed to always know the exact words, nevertheless it was the best bit of music Eliza had ever heard. Seeing those people being so happy and carefree was a welcome sight, one that filled her heart with warmth. Sadie and her watched silently, as the group grew bigger and left only a handful of people who didn’t join in the singing.

“I put my hand upon her ass, Mark well what I do say, She says ‘let’s lay down on the grass’, And diddle-diddle-diddle all day!”

“And we diddle-diddle-did too!”, Uncle shouted when the song ended and everybody laughed.

The crowd dispersed and she felt a hand on her shoulder, Tilly stood behind Eliza, handing over a bottle of beer. She accepted with thanks.

“I don’t understand why she ain’t telling him how much she likes him”, she sighed, looking at Karen and Sean. He was showering her in compliments in his Irish charm, and she played the stoic maid.

Eliza shrugged, setting the bottle to her lips. “Maybe she thinks he’ll stop paying attention to her if she gives in”, she suggested, “but I don’t know much about these things.”

From Dutch’s tent the sound of a gramophone reached her ears, playing some harmonica piece. She suddenly realised that her back was still drenched and excused herself, heading towards her cot to get changed. It wouldn’t do her any good to run around damp in the cold night and catching a cold. In a fresh, dry skirt and blouse she returned, looking for her friends within the jumble of merry people. She saw Arthur and Sadie speaking to Dutch and decided they were best left alone, in case it wasn’t a conversation she should be a part of. Downing the last bit of her bottle she steered towards Hosea, who stood by the kitchen wagon, observing Lenny dancing with Tilly to the music, when Dutch called her name.

“Miss Eliza! How about you join me for a dance?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, cursing silently. She couldn’t say no without being disrespectful, her manners commanded her to accept his invitation. With a forced smile she turned her footsteps towards him, as he held one of his hands outstretched waiting for her to take it. Arthur and Sadie stood a few feet away from him watching her approach, she could see a slight frown on the blonde woman’s forehead.

“It would be my pleasure”, she answered, her voice slightly higher pitched than usual, and placed her hand in his big palm.

“Oh, the pleasure is mine Miss Eliza.”

He lifted her hand in his and placed his other against her waist, it was clear he knew how to dance and he took the lead naturally. Swaying left and right with the music, she was focused to keep the smile on her lips, following his movements.

“Come on Morgan, dance with me!”

Sadie’s voice rang from behind her, and Eliza almost burst out laughing. Arthur and Sadie, dancing? But low and behold, as Dutch swung them both around in a slow spin she could see her two friends move to the music in the same fashion, a bit clumsier than her and the black haired man maybe, but especially Sadie seemed to gain ample enjoyment out of it. She grinned at her younger friend widely. The pace of the music picked up, and Dutch sent her away with a spin, only holding one hand, then curled her back in, holding on a bit closer than before. Eliza held her eyes fixed on a shirt button on his chest, intent not to look up into his face. He liked to show off. Moving her feet parallel to his, he turned her in a slow circle again, and she saw Sadie winking at her. She felt a twang of annoyance, why was she drawing amusement out of this? Molly would be furious at her, besides Sadie certainly knew how she felt about their leader. Eliza hadn’t thought the woman would be the type to gain malicious glee from a friend’s discomfort. Another flurry in the music and Dutch prepared another flourish, sending her out and away from him, holding her right hand. Within a second, she barely had the time to register what was happening, Sadie had taken her left and twisted her around, freeing her hand from Dutch’s grip and sending her twirling into Arthur’s arms, all the while keeping her composure and joining up with Dutch’s steps, replacing her as his partner. It was all over so quick, Eliza barely caught her mischievous smile before Arthur steadied her, his face just as stunned and confused as hers as he instinctively took her hand into his own and tried to regain the rhythm with his new partner. They staggered a bit at first, staring at each other in bewilderment, before she caught herself and led him to fall back into the swing of the music. She smiled awkwardly up at him, her heart beating in her chest as if it was joining a different dance that was five times as quick as theirs. He cleared his throat, holding her gaze, a subtle hint of colour on his cheeks. The campfire cast a warm hue onto his face and made his eyes flicker, the blue of his iris now shifting between green and amber in the orange flame. She felt a strange sensation in her stomach and a nervous giggle escaped her throat. Realising that she had been staring at him for just a second too long she turned her head, severing the connection. His right hand was laid on her waist, lightly, almost hovering, as if he was not sure if he was allowed to hold her. Ever the gentleman. The two moved slowly, he soon took over the lead and set his hand a bit firmer on her after she had leaned into the touch herself. This felt so much different than it had with Dutch just seconds ago. She could feel the warmth of his body through her clothes and was embarrassed by the light clamminess of her palm in his. If he noticed, he didn’t seem to mind. They swayed together in the rhythm of the music, in perfect harmony. His feet weren’t as practised as hers and he didn’t move quite as naturally to the tune, but she trusted him and he trusted her. Circling slowly, she caught a glimpse of Sadie’s grin. She looked mighty satisfied with herself, watching her and Arthur and paying Dutch’s sour expression no mind. As the music swelled up and reached another flurry, Arthur held her hand high and guided her into a twirl, sending her skirt to flare out lazily around her legs. She spun her head to face him as she whirled on the spot, until he lowered his arm and caught her safely, guiding them back into a steady sway. She felt just a little dizzy. He held her steady, his gentle touch tripling her heartbeat it seemed like.

Get it together. It’s just a dance.

The first dance with a man that she thoroughly enjoyed though. She pushed the thoughts of what that might mean out of her mind, not willing to investigate the heat in her cheeks or the fluttering of her stomach at present. The music got a little louder, it was obvious that it prepared for the finale and Arthur sent her spinning out, holding her there for a moment before twisting her back in, their arms curling up with each other until he caught her with his other hand, her back firmly pressed against his chest as the crescendo came to an end. They looked at each other as the last note faded, faces flushed and breath going a bit quicker than normal, the camp around them forgotten. Then he released her hands and stepped back, tipping his hat.

“Thank you ma’am.”

As quick as that, the spell was broken. She was suddenly very aware of the faces staring at them, it felt like half the camp had followed their dance. Sadie passed Dutch into Molly’s arm, the redhead looking sour and clasping at her sweetheart, desperate to keep him to herself now. Eliza tried to catch a glimpse at Arthur’s face beneath the hat and believed she saw his lips curved into a gentle smile. Not quite sure what the appropriate response was in this situation, she did a little courtesy as she had been taught.

“Thank you, Mister! It was a pleasure”

He looked at her from under the brim of his hat, there was definitely a small smile beneath his stubble. She couldn’t help but let out a giggle again, feeling quite foolish because of it. Averting her eyes, she added quietly: “It has been a while since I last danced with someone I didn’t despise.”

He exhaled in a silent laugh and hooked his thumbs under his gunbelt. Why did she only just now realise how handsome this man was? She quickly pushed the thought aside. Sadie came into her field of view, throwing her arm around her shoulders.

“You kids had fun? I wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this, gotta drown myself in whiskey now.”

Eliza’s mind was full of questions for her, but lacking the ability to formulate even a single one of them she was condemned to stare at her back as the woman walked away, towards the alcohol supply at the kitchen wagon.

“You, uh, wanna go sit by the fire?”

There he was, the awkward Arthur Morgan that she had first met through the bars of the prison wagon, sat on the stool, his journal on his lap. She couldn’t help but smile to herself. Back then she had been terrified of him and now… Now she was disappointed that the dance with him was over.

“Sure, I’m getting a bit cold.”

They made their way to the campfire, keeping a couple feet apart. The distance felt like a precaution, there was a strange air between the two of them. Not in a bad way, just… Different. Like they had just met each other anew, careful not to overstep any boundaries the other might have. They walked in comfortable silence towards the gathered people laughing. In this moment Eliza truly felt as if she was home.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #mywriting #eliza cornwall #arthur morgan #Vengeance is an Idiot’s Game #arthur morgan x original female character

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until-theend-oftheline · 5 years

Text

Second Chances - Part 1: Soldier

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Injuries, Torture, HYDRA are assholes!

Square Filled: Scars (K5) for @buckybarnesbingo and Kindness of a Stranger (Marvel Fandom) for @goodthingshappenbingo

Word Count: 2300ish

A/N: This series is done for @thorne93 and heavily inspired by tow songs by The Chainsmokers which is This Feeling and Paris. Please go listen to them since even if I don’t reference them specifically they heavily decided the mood and plot of this fic.

There is no sex in this part but there will be in later parts so the rating for the series is mature.

Betaed by: @jewels2876 - thank you, hun!

Second Chances Masterlist

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Washington DC, 2014

You liked your job even if it was usually pretty quiet. You felt as if you were making a difference which was why you had studied medicine in the first place. You got to help keep the first responders and STRIKE team of Shield healthy which in return kept the world safe.

During your first internship, you had quickly realized what your field was going to be. You loved the quick pace of the ER. You had a steady hand and cool head under pressure which was why you had become a trauma surgeon.

You worked a few years as a Trauma Surgeon for MedStar in Washington DC before going overseas, working all around the world for Doctors without Borders. You loved the job. You were good at it and you were making a difference in people’s lives but after five years you were starting to feel rootless. You needed a place to call home, so when your father Alexander Pierce had offered you a job working for Shield you had taken it.

The two of you hadn’t ever been close even though your mother had died when you were young. He was a hard man to get close too, but when you accepted the job offer a small part of you couldn’t help but hope that was going to change. The rootlessness you felt wasn’t just the need of a home. You needed a family and people to be close too. You had never had that and for years you had told yourself it didn’t matter. You didn’t need people like that as long as you got to help.

When your relationship with your father didn’t change, you started seeing the lie in that. You saw him more regularly but you still felt as if you hardly knew him. Your colleagues were just that. Your work was mostly secret. You worked in a restricted wing where only few had access. You treated not only soldiers, and agents, but also spies. People that nobody knew the faces off and nobody ever could.

Your co-workers weren’t people that you could hang out with when you were off work. You weren’t just a doctor anymore. With your government high-level security pass, you were keeping secrets you yourself didn’t know well nor understand. You just did your job and went back home to your huge empty apartment, reminding yourself of the people that might be alive tomorrow because of the people you had helped today.

The agents, officers, and soldiers you saw stayed with you for a multitude of reasons, but there was one person that remained in your mind above all others. You had tended his wounds a few times only but there was something about him that made you want to know more about him.

He hadn’t given you a name. Not even a rank. Which was highly unusual, but not as much as his prosthetic arm. It was made of metal. It had complete range of motion and it was close to being as sensitive as the rest of his body. You had never seen anything like it and had tried to look the man up after his first visit to your office.

You were more than a little disappointed when you had run into a red angry screen yelling at you, that you didn’t have the officiant clearance to the information you were seeking. When you had brought the man up with your father over dinner he had given you a stern glare, telling you, you shouldn’t even have been treating the soldier and there were some things you were better off not knowing about.

Your father’s reaction hadn’t made you less curious and when you had seen the soldier walk into the medbay a few weeks later, you quickly grabbed his arm guiding you into your office to tend to his wounds.

You tried to talk to him, but he didn’t seem to remember you. He was as quiet as he had been the last time, only answering you when you asked him medical questions, flinching slightly every time you touched him.

Whoever he was, he was in a bad shape. None of his wounds which never seemed too deep or too bad despite the array of scars covering his torso. He had been through hell and back, you knew that without him having to say a word. His body spoke for him.

You felt for him and began treating him every time he appeared in the medbay. Sometimes it was every week and other times you didn’t see him for a few months. He never appeared to remember you, no matter how often you saw him. You weren’t sure if it was an act, or if he was just bad with faces.

There was a kindness and curiosity in his eyes as he studied you cleaning his wounds. Somehow you knew it wasn’t his choice to keep you at arm’s length, so instead of asking him a million questions that only ever made him tenser, you began telling him trivial little things about your life. You told him stories from your old job with Doctors without Borders, little incidences at the grocery store or blabbering on about what you wanted for dinner.

He rarely responded to you, but he seemed to relax as you talked, which made the stream of words worth it to you. He even started thanking you before leaving your office, making you feel as if you had accomplished something.

These little encounters carried on for a little over a year, until one day you saw him being rushed across the medbay into a restricted part of the building accompanied by five or six STRIKE agents.

You knew you shouldn’t try to follow them. Your clearance didn’t allow you into that part of the building, but there had been a pain in the soldier's eyes you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t physical. It was confusion, anger, despair… you weren’t sure if you should follow, but you wanted to help him.

You hurried across the room, managing to slip in through the closing door as one of the senior doctors on staff rushed through. You hid as well as you could, slowly moving through the unfamiliar hallway towards the commotion.

The halls and rooms were strange with bars sectioning everything off. It seemed more as if you had walked straight into a prison than a wing of a hospital and you couldn’t help but wonder what the hell this place was and why Shield was hiding it in plain sight of their medical facilities.

You frowned. It sounded as if a fight was going down. As tense and quiet as the soldier had been in your office, he had never put up a fight. He had never seemed as if he posed a threat to you or any of the staff. You weren’t sure what could have changed that but something had, as medical staff rushed from the room fleeing to safety as the STRIKE team outside the door drew their weapons.

You stayed in hiding, wondering what your next play should be. You weren’t allowed back here but you wanted to help. You should help. You had been able to calm the soldier in the past even if he hadn’t been aggressive; your voice had seemed to have a calming effect on him. Maybe you could help him through his PTSD episode or whatever was going on inside the room you couldn’t quite see from your hideout.

Just as you were about to get up from your hideout and offer your assistance, you heard the doors behind you open and close again. You turned your head, seeing your father walk down the hall closely followed by a few more STRIKE agents. You couldn’t remember ever seeing him in the medical wing. If he was here, something important was going down. He was the director of Shield after all and didn’t make house calls just because a random soldier was acting up.

You swallowed harshly and ducked down further behind the cans in the hall you had been hiding behind to make sure he didn’t see you. You knew your father well enough to know that he wouldn’t ever let you help with this. He hadn’t even wanted you tending to the soldier, to begin with. You weren’t about to confess to disobeying a direct order.

You peaked up to see all the doctors and agents disappearing into the backroom along with your father and the bars being closed behind them. You were now alone in the hallway and dared to raise your head up a little further.

You were too far back. You could hear voices but now what they were saying. You knew you should get out of here and pretend none of this had ever happened but you couldn’t. The haunted look the soldier had worn as he had been guided through the already restricted medical wing into the super secret layer you were now hiding it wouldn’t leave your mind. You wanted to help him or, at the very least, make sure he was going to be alright. So you got up, sneaking slowly closer to the bars of the back room rather than making your escape.

“If you don’t do your part I can’t do mine. And HYDRA can’t give the world the freedom it deserves,” your father’s voice sounded muffled as you started getting closer. You sucked in a breath, frowning harshly.

HYDRA. You had to have heard that wrong. Your father wasn’t working for HYDRA. They were history. A World War II tale of victory and how Captain America had saved the world giving his own life. Your father worked with the newly returned Steve Rogers. He was his boss. Not a HYDRA agent. You shook your head, sure your ears were playing tricks on you, sneaking closer to hear the soldier’s low voice coming from the bared room.

“But I knew him.”

The pain in his voice broke your heart. He sounded calm and collected but in so much pain. You wanted to take him far away from here, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything but hide and listen.

“Prep him,” your father’s voice sounded.

“He has been out of CRYO freeze for too long,” another man answered and your eyes widened. CRYO freeze. Super serum. You had read studies regarding Steve Rogers and his metabolism. The only way someone could survive CRYO freeze is if they had been enhanced. That explained the shallow wounds and deep scars. The scars however also told a story of immense pain if they hadn’t healed over in the year you had known the man.

“Then wipe him and start over” your father’s voice sounded, pulling you out of your thoughts. What the hell did that mean? You moved closer to the doors, and now you were able to see inside. Right past where your father and the agents to the soldier and the machine he was being strapped into.

You now stood in front of the doors in plain sight of anyone that might turn around. You didn’t care. All you saw was the rims and metal move closer and closer to the soldier as his chest heaved in fear and anticipation of the pain. As his screams filled the room, so did yours.

“Stop! Stop that! What the hell are you doing?! You’re hurting him!” you screamed, grabbing a hold of the bars, shaking them as if they would give under the force. Of course, they didn’t. All you succeeded in doing was calling your father’s and agents’ attention. You didn’t see the weapons momentarily pointing at you. You also didn’t see your father raising his hand, silently making them lower them. You didn’t see the blind rage on his face.

You only saw the soldier, strapped down, screaming out his pain as your vision blurred from tears. Your father was doing this. The agency you were working for was doing this. Torture.

“Y/N. You are not supposed to be in here,” your father grabbed your arm hard enough to leave a bruise as he dragged you down the hallway. Somehow you managed to shake loose. Your pain and shock morphing into anger.

“I don’t care. You’re torturing that man!” you hissed at him, looking up into his face with your head held high. Your father was a scary man when he wanted to be. There had been plenty of times where you had felt that yourself, but not now. You weren’t going to let him bully you into submission. You had come too far and this was different.

“We’re prepping him. You wouldn’t understand even if I tried to…” he began, but you cut him off, growing angrier by the second.

“I’m not a child anymore. Don’t speak to me as if I am,” you hissed. “I won’t be a part of this. I quit!” You threw your badge on the ground before his feet, rushing through the door and out of the building. You needed air. You needed to get away from the screams of the man you so desperately wanted to help but couldn’t. You ran so fast with the soldier’s screams ringing inside your head that you didn’t hear Agent Rumlow ask your father if he wanted him to bring you back. You didn’t hear his answer either.

“No. No need. She’ll be back. I’m all she has.”

If you had heard him, you would have told him it wasn’t true. You didn’t have anyone anymore. Your father had died in your eyes the moment you had witnessed him order the torture of a man without hesitation or remorse. You were all alone in the world now.

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #buckybarnesbingo #goodthingshappenbingo #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction

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fuzzhugs · 5 years

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Smile - Redwall Fanfiction by Fuzzhugs

Plowing a field by paw was strenuous, tedious, and exhausting work, but the smell of food wafting from the farmhouse kept the laborers optimistic that their efforts would be well-rewarded.

One of the day-laborers, a weasel with striking blue eyes, paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. He was young, only a few seasons into his adulthood. With boundless energy, this was work he was well-suited toward. As he rested, he saw another weasel approaching, the daughter of the farmer who had hired him and his friends to work on his farm in exchange for food and shelter. Her name was Maudred, and the laborer had grown quite close to her in the few weeks he had been working. When Maudred drew close, she offered him a canteen of water with a smile on her face. It was a warm, friendly smile just like that which had drawn the laborer to her in the first place.

Relieved to have something to drink, he took the canteen and downed most of the contents in a few large gulps. “Thanks,” he said, handing the canteen back. “It’s been a hot one today. Is dinner going to taste as good as it smells?”

“You bet it will. I made the blueberry pie myself.” She winked. “I know it’s your favorite.”

“Well, then I’ll be sure to have seconds and fully appreciate your work.”

“It’s hard work, cooking for an army of hungry beasts.”

“We should probably switch jobs then. I can take over in the kitchen and you can come out here and plow the fields.”

Maudred laughed. “At least we wouldn’t have to worry about eating. We’d all have died of food poisoning after the first night.”

The laborer held his arms out in mock offence. “Are you saying I can’t cook?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying.” Maudred winked and lightly kissed the laborer’s cheek. “But you can help with the dishes any time you want.”

The laborer leaned on his hoe and sighed as he watched Maudred walk away toward the farmhouse. He was thankful he and his wandering companions hand come across this farm when they needed help. They hadn’t eaten so well since they had left their homes to lead a life of adventure, living off the land, scavenging, and sometimes begging. Having a place to call home, even if it was only temporary, was nice.

“Hey Ferahgo!” one of his companions shouted from across the patch of soil, how about you do some work like the rest of us?”

“I am!” Ferahgo shouted back. “Impressing maids is a very difficult job.”

As promised, dinner was delicious. The serving table was packed with crisp salads topped with juicy tomatoes, bowls full of berries and nuts, plates stacked high with scones and honey. To drink there was mint tea (still cool from the farmhouse cellar), nutbrown beer foaming in mugs, and sweet raspberry cordial. The laborers ate at every available flat surface around the farm: inside at the table, on the floor, outside around tree stumps, plus a few on the patchwork picnic blankets spread all around. All the while, Maudred was hurrying about, making sure everyone had enough to eat and drink. The laborers were a mixed bunch. Besides Ferahgo and his friends, there were itinerant hares, some otters from the nearby river, two or three wandering hedgehogs, and a large number of others of various species who, like Ferahgo’s group, traveled around looking for enough work to fill their bellies.

Maudred was so busy seeing to everybeast’s needs, she hadn’t had time to sit down and eat herself. Ferahgo noticed, and eventually forced her to take a break and have something to eat while he took over the dispensing of food and drink.

When dinner was over and everybeast, including Maudred, had eaten their fill, most of the laborers went off to the barn where they slept to enjoy some music before they went to bed, but Ferahgo stayed behind.

“Aren’t you going to go with your friends?” Maudred asked as she picked up the plates that had been left lying around.

“I think I prefer different company tonight,” Ferahgo said, starting to make his own stack of dishes.

“You don’t need to do that,” Maudred told him. “You’ve worked hard enough today.”

“You did say I could help with the dishes any time I wanted.”

“If you insist.” Maudred picked up her stack of plates and started for the farmhouse. “You can wash.”

The wash-bin was large enough to be a bathtub and was filled with soapy water and no small number of dirty dishes. Ferahgo started washing as Maudred wiped the dishes dry and put them away until they would be used again the next evening.

“This is certainly easier,” Maudred said. “Maybe I should have you help me every night.”

“It’ll cost you,” Ferahgo teased. “You might have to kiss me again.”

“A sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Maudred teased back. “Maybe I should kiss your friends as well. Might get them to do all my work for me.”

Ferahgo flicked some water at Maudred. She looked at him slyly and brushed the drops from her fur. She dipped her paw into the water and splashed him. Within moments, events escalated into a full splash-war. When the suds settled, both Ferahgo and Maudred were soaked through to the skin and in a fit of laughter.

Maudred took a clean cloth and wiped off Ferahgo’s face. “You clean up nice,” she said to him.

“You always look nice.”

Ferahgo and Maudred finished washing the dishes together and then cleaned up the kitchen, making sure to mop up the puddles from their aquatic battle. Afterward, Ferahgo waited while Maudred went to put on dry clothing. She came back out wearing a simple cream-colored dress that beautifully complimented her brown fur. She took Ferahgo’s arm and led him to a private spot outside beneath and oak tree. They lay there together and watched as the stars came out. They had both watched the stars many times before, but there was something special about sitting and quietly watching the distant points of light with somebeast close by.

Though they sat in silence, Ferahgo could tell something was bothering Maudred. He shifted closer and placed his arm around her. “What troubles you, Maudie?”

She sighed and looked into Ferahgo’s blue eyes, which sparkled with starlight. “The time for planting is almost over. Once the seeds are in the ground, father and I will not need so many laborers. Father already asked the Brownspikes and the Streamdogs to stay on to help with weeding and irrigation. I’m worried that you’ll leave and I’ll never see you again.”

Ferahgo sat up in front of Maudred so he could look directly into her eyes. “Do you think I care so little that I’d simply leave and never come back? This area is plentiful in the spring and summer. My friends and I can stay close by. When harvest comes, we can come back.”

“And after that? What then? What will you do in the winter?”

“I’ll…I’ll think of something,” Ferahgo stuttered. “I’m not going to disappear. Even if I have to spend the winter a little further south, I’ll be back in the early spring.”

“And what about after that? Will it be like that forever? Planting and harvest with months of absence in between? I don’t want you to go.” Maudred sniffled and wiped her teary eyes.

Ferahgo put his paw on her cheek and leaned in close. Their noses were nearly touching. “Come with me.”

“W-what?”

“Come with me and my friends. Come wander with us. Just for the times when we aren’t here. We won’t go too far, and if you get homesick we can always come back, and-”

Maudred pulled Ferahgo to her and kissed him. Ferahgo, though initially surprised, did not resist and let her linger for as long as she wanted. When they separated, Maudred leaned back against the tree and contemplated her future.

“I’ll have to ask my father. Even with just him and a few laborers, there’s a lot of cooking and cleaning, never mind the laundry, the sewing, keeping inventory, and a dozen other things I do around here.”

“I’m sure you father can manage without you. He was running this farm before you were born, remember.”

“That’s true,” Maudred said. “Now how about you? What do you think of all this?”

“To be honest, I’m still recovering from that kiss. Wasn’t really expecting that. Not that I didn’t enjoy it.”

Maudred blushed. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Ferahgo moved next to her beneath the tree. “I’m going to be washing dishes forever, aren’t I.”

Maudred gave him a playful shove. “Shut up, you idiot.”

His eyes still sparkling in the starlight, Ferahgo smiled.

Several seasons later in the late autumn, Ferahgo’s group of wanderers had made camp at the bottom of a small valley sheltered between several hills. A stream running nearby supplied them with fresh fish, and berries and nuts grew abundantly in the woods. It was an ideal place to stop and store up for the winter. The group had grown beyond Ferahgo’s original group of friends in recent seasons. Besides Maudred, the group now included a dozen new members, each one content to enjoy the nomadic lifestyle, occasionally stopping to work at the farms or fisheries they happened across in their travels.

The nights had been growing colder, and everybeast slept with a small fire blazing near his or her tent. Ferahgo and Maudred were no exception.

The two weasels had been together since Maudred had left her family farm. Though they had never publically declared themselves to be mated, they still lived under that assumption and casually referred to each other as ‘husband’ and ‘wife.’

With their own fire warmly glowing not too far away, Ferahgo and Maudred settled down for bed, cuddling close to stay warm during the frigid night.

Though his eyes were closed and he was gently dozing, Ferahgo could feel Maudred’s eyes on him. Opening his eyes, he looked at his wife, gazing at him with an uncertain look.

“Maudie, what’s the matter?”

Maudred shifted uncomfortably. “It’s probably nothing. Don’t worry about it, Ferah.”

Ferahgo rolled onto his side and leaned on his elbow, looking skeptically at his wife. “Love, something is bothering you. Let me help.”

“It’s really nothing.” She sighed, and then looked down as she ran a paw over her abdomen. “I think I might be pregnant.”

Ferahgo’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Oh Maudie, that’s wonderful. How long have you known?”

“I only said I might be pregnant. I don’t know for sure yet.”

“But you have felt signs?”

“For the past few days, yes, but it could just be an upset stomach.”

“When will you know for certain?”

“I suppose if it doesn’t go away, that means it’s a baby.”

Ferahgo cuddled against his wife. “Why did you wait to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case I was wrong. You’ve talked a lot about wanting a family of your own someday. I hope I’m right. I’d like to have a little one of our own too.”

Pulling her close, Ferahgo kissed her on the forehead. “I’d like that a lot: you, me, and our child. Who needs anything else?”

Bringing the covers up, the two weasels once again settled down to sleep, dreaming of the future they would have together.

Gone.

Ferahgo sat alone in his tent, staring at the ground, utterly expressionless. He had heard nothing from the midwife for almost half-an-hour, and Maudie’s cries of pain from the birthing process had long been silent. Ferahgo knew what that meant, but he didn’t want to see it. If he didn’t see it, then it wasn’t real. If he didn’t see it, there was still a chance everything was fine, and he and his wife would be cradling their newborn, smiling and making silly noises to him as he looked at the world with new eyes.

Head in his paws, Ferahgo broke down sobbing, his grief unending. She was gone. He knew she was gone. Gone. He did not know how long he wept, but he only stopped when another beast entered his tent. With has much mental effort as he could muster, Ferahgo tore himself from his grief. “What is it?” he said without any real interest.

Della, the midwife, spoke calmly to him, not that it did much good. “As you’ve figured out, Maudred did not make it. I’m sorry, Ferahgo. I did everything I could to save her, but she lost too much blood.”

Ferahgo stood up. Now that he knew the truth, there was no point hiding from it. “I want to see her.” He started walking automatically toward the midwife’s tent.

“I don’t if that’s a good idea, boss. In your state-”

“I said I’m going to see her.”

His walk to the tent was a daze. He would later recall a number of creatures offering him their sympathies, but he would not remember who had been there. Entering the tent, he looked down at the mess of bloody blankets. The only clean blanket in the place covered his wife’s body. He delicately took the edge and pulled it away from her head. Maudred’s eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly open. She did not look she had been in great pain. Ferahgo gently ran a paw along her cheek. She was still slightly warm to the touch. Gone.

“I did this to you. I brought you out here. I slept with you. I made you pregnant. It’s my fault. I did this to you.” Ferahgo let out a scream of grief and rage. He pounded the earth next to where Maudred lay. A pair of gentle arms held on to him, holding him as every single ounce of emotion flowed out. Ferahgo never knew who it was that held him as his grief tore him apart.

After some time, he stopped. He made no more noise. He was empty. There was nothing left inside. He placed the blanket back over Maudred’s face, stood up, and went to leave the tent.

“The baby?” he said at the midwife as he passed.

“Your son lives,” she said. “I am having Dapplefur watch over him for now. She had her own little one a week ago. She will nurse him for now. He will be cared for.”

Ferahgo nodded and turned to go back to his tent.

“He will need a name,” the midwife said.

“Klitch,” said Ferahgo without hesitation. “We had talked about it, me and her. Klitch. After one of her uncles.”

He reached his tent and closed the flap behind him, shutting out the rest of the world. He collapsed onto the bedroll and inhaled deeply, taking in his wife’s scent while it still lingered. Rolling over, he stared at the ceiling of the tent.

Gone.

Anybeast entering the camp would have had no way of knowing that Ferahgo was present. Unless that beast were to stick their head directly into his tent, it was unlikely they would ever see him. Ferahgo seldom left his tent, and the times he did were usually at the urging of one of his close friends to go see his son.

The situation in the wanderer’s camp was poor. While everybeast was largely capable of scavenging and gathering for his or herself, they relied on Ferahgo to lead them to a good spot where wild edibles were plentiful, but Ferahgo had made no effort to find a spot for the coming winter. In truth, Ferahgo had little concern for himself or for the camp, rarely eating or talking to anyone. He had grown thin and ragged; even his blue eyes had lost their shine. Indeed, his only concern was for his son.

On this rare day, Ferahgo had left his tent to go feed little Klitch. Though he was still nursing, the midwife had recommended starting him on squished berries and vegetables. Little Klitch seemed to enjoy the experience greatly, smiling and laughing at the spoon as it zipped around his face before going to his mouth. Such times seemed to lighten Ferahgo’s mood as well.

“Here comes a birdie looking for its nest. Where’s it gonna land?” Ferahgo said as he trailed the spoon around. “Here it comes. It’s going to land.” He popped the spoon into Klitch’s mouth and let him swallow the vegetable mush. “That’s a good little weasel. Going to grow up big and strong like your daddy.”

The feeding was interrupted by Dewnose the stoat, one of Ferahgo’s friends who had been part of his original group. “Boss, we need to talk.”

Ferahgo continued to feed his son as he talked to Dewnose. “What is it?”

“Boss, we need to do…something.”

“Something?”

“Something about food, boss. Autumn’s almost over and we’ve nowhere near enough food. We’ve been kipped here so long everything’s been picked clean. We’ve got enough for day-to-day stuff for now, but once winter hits-”

“We’ll get through it,” Ferahgo said without much concern. “We’ve gotten through rough winter’s before.”

“Not with this many mouths to feed, boss. We need to do…something. Move the camp or…I don’t know. You’re the one who’s good at planning and stuff. What do we do, boss? If we don’t get a lot of food soon, we’re going to die, boss. You, me, your son, and everybeast here.”

Ferahgo stopped the spoon halfway to his son’s mouth, a grimace on his face. Klitch fussed as he tried to get at the just-out-of-reach morsel.

Silently standing, Ferahgo handed Klitch back to Dapplefur and gestured for Dewnose to follow him. Returning to his tent, Ferahgo belted on the knife he normally kept for skinning fish. “Go get Crabeyes, Doghead, and Badtooth. Dethbrush and Grabble as well. Tell them to bring weapons.”

“Weapons, boss? What are you-?”

“You said you wanted food, didn’t you? It’s too late to move camp. So unless you want to starve this winter, go and do as I say.” The tone in Ferahgo’s voice indicated that dissent was not an option.

As Dewnose went and did Ferahgo’s bidding, the weasel spun the knife around in his paws. He could do a few good tricks with it, but he had never used it to hurt any living creature, save for fish. He hoped that he wouldn’t have change that now. He really didn’t like what he was about to do, but for his son, the only thing he had left of Maudred, he would do anything.

The others came to him quickly, armed and ready to go. Ferahgo led them off out of the valley and over the hills. They followed the river for miles until they came to a farm. Most of the working day was gone, so the farmer’s would likely be inside. Silently, Ferahgo signaled for his crew to move toward the barn where all the stored food would be kept.

Dewnose and Badtooth unbarred the door and opened it. Inside the barn there were stacks and stacks of food: flour, wheat, dried fruits and vegetables, nuts, and jars and jars of preserves.

“Start with the items easiest to carry. We’ll take whatever we can.”

“Boss,” Crabeyes interrupted, “I don’t think this is right, taking everything from these farmers-”

“We aren’t taking everything. We seven couldn’t possibly take everything with us. We’re just going to take enough to survive. We’ll leave them plenty to live on. Maybe you don’t like it, but once winter hits and it’s your stomach grumbling, you’ll be thanking me for this when you have food to put in your belly.”

There were no further complaints, and the crew began loading everything they could into sacks. The sacks were half-filled when a voice stopped them dead in their tracks.

“What in Hellgates do you think you’re doing?” A hedgehog stood at the barn entrance holding a large club. He was backed up by five others.

Ferahgo stepped up to meet him. “We’re going to starve. We won’t make it through the winter unless we get food stores going. If we have something to trade we can-”

“Trader’s usually ask before they start collecting goods,” the hedgehog said. “You lot are nothin’ but thieves.” He raised his club. “I’m gonna give you ‘til the count o’ ten to get out o’ here before I start smashing skulls.”

As the hedgehog began counting, Ferahgo quickly surveyed his crew. They were all looking to him for their next move, but he could see the tension in their bodies. They were ready to draw the weapons they had brought. They knew they needed this food, and they were willing to do whatever it took to get it back home to their families.

The hedgehog finished his count and Ferahgo took out his knife, spinning it around a few times for effect.

“You’re gonna regret this, weasel,” the hedgehog said, drawing his club back. He sprung forward with surprising speed, but tripped on a hole in the uneven dirt floor. His momentum carried him right across Ferahgo’s blade. Blood spurted from the hedgehog’s throat as the thrashed on the floor before going still.

“Murderer!” one of the other hedgehogs screamed. “Assassin!”

What happened next was forever a blur in Ferahgo’s memory, but there was combat, and when it was over, the hedgehogs were all dead and Ferahgo’s crew was covered in blood.

Ferahgo cleaned his blade on one of the dead farmer’s tunics and returned it to its sheath. “Take everything you can carry,” he said, reiterating his previous command, steeping over the bodies without a glance. “We’ll come back for the rest later.”

Nobeast said a word as they trekked back to their camp, their costly burdens weighing them down, but the others noticed Ferahgo had developed a crazed look in his eyes.

The rest of the camp was surprised to see them return coated in blood, and everybeast quickly came out to see what was going on. The entire camp, around forty in all, assembled as Ferahgo began to speak.

“For seasons, we’ve lived off of the meager food of the forest or the pitiful wages of a farmhand. We are not vagrants. We are not slaves. We are better than that. Living season-to-season, even day-to-day has been a struggle for far too long. From this day forward, we are no longer slaves to nature nor slaves to any other beast. What we need, we will take! The riches of the land will be ours! Where we are denied what is ours, we will leave only bodies! Be loyal to me my Corpsemakers, and I will show you what true wealth is!”

Around three-quarters of the group, already on the verge of dire hunger, cheered for Ferahgo. Many of the others cheered as well, if only so that nobeast would see they weren’t cheering.

Ferahgo went back to Dapplefur’s tent and picked up his son. Feeling alive once again, he playfully swung his son around. “Don’t you worry, Klitch. Daddy is going to keep us all safe and fed. Everybeast will come to fear us, and we will lack nothing. Anything that we want will be ours.”

Putting his son back down, Ferahgo left to organize a return trip to the farm.

A fierce wind flew in from the north, bringing a blast of frigid air and the first flakes of winter. Ferahgo laughed at the wind, for the chill of winter was no longer any threat to him. As the wind continued to blow and gust, a manic grin appeared on Ferahgo’s face, and his blue eyes shone with a cruel light.

The coming winter would be cold, but not as cold as the smile on the face of Ferahgo the Assassin.

#redwall #redwall fandom #redwall fanfiction #redwall ocs

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