#maybe ill make an “au” of sorts with my own takes on alien world building? maybe. ill think.
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Recently watched a few alien movies
I'm disappointed
#deli.txt#alien franchise#WHY IS THE SCRIPT LIKE THAT UGHHHH#IT MAKES ME ANGY#ON ALIENS WE HAD THE CHANCE TO HAVE A MORE DEEP EXPLORATION OF A HIVE#BUT. AJDJSJDJD#some movies are good. i think my fave ones are the 8th passenger and aliens#THE CONCEPTS HAVE SO MUCH POTENTIAL AND MOST OF THE TIME THEY HAVE BEEN DISCARDED INTO NONSENSE OR JUST SOMETHING THAT LOOKS FORCED#i just want to learn more about the aliens...sigisjfj...#maybe ill make an “au” of sorts with my own takes on alien world building? maybe. ill think.#i like it though it has very interesting stuff even if the script of the movies are most of the time bad
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Fury of Their Scales
m.yoongi / reader
genre: dragon!au, wyvern!yoongi, human/herbalist!reader,
warning(s)!!: isolation/alienation, mentions of war, injuries/blood/violence, dragon boy yoongles is stuck in a trap bc he’s dumb, y/n is so sO pure, protective dragon yoonyoon, villagers physically bully y/n a lot :(, unfair situations, y/n takes so much shit like a champ she deserves an award, dragon boy is a dragon for the first half of this (sorry, not sorry), don’t be scared there's actual humor and wholesome stuff too :D, slow burn (kinda)?
w.count: 17.7k
Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: T]
synopsis: a world of dragons, demons, devils, gods and ghouls- humans were of small number. you’ve lived on the outskirts of your human village in the woods ever since you could remember. living alone in a small cabin with nothing but woodland trees, ponds, lakes and animals was like a small paradise- with the occasional bump in the road. as someone who’s studied and experimented with nature to make all sorts of concoctions- your home was ideal. it didn’t matter that your village didn’t like it or that they rejected your life of medicine. what did matter, however, was the dragon stuck in a trap not too far from your home that you just discovered.
a/n: i literally haven’t sat down to write fanfiction in over a month bc my brain was fried and i got sucked balls deep into a fandom of an anime i dont even watch (yet). It took me three hours to edit this bc i pass tf out, pls be easy on me LOL
A shrill whine echoed through the woodland area. Bouncing off trees, echoing in caves, spooking off wildlife of rodents and critters that crept along the ground with far too many spindly legs. Rustling in the wind, entangling with the leaves that blew and then erupting when a campfire crackled, settling in it’s burning pit of wood and stone.
-x-x-x-
You shot awake in bed, the morning light peeking in through your bedroom window that was covered in a beginning to tear curtain. You breathed out a heavy sigh as you flopped back down onto your mattress that squeaked at your movement. You really should be getting a new bed sometime soon. This one was old and did nothing for your pressure points or back while you slept. What was the point of a good night rest when you wake up feeling like you just wrestled a bear and lost?
You looked at the small streaks of light that soaked into your wooden home as you closed your eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again before getting out of bed. You threw your covers off, your nightdress coming down to your knees as you started to stretch. Your arms reached above your head as you stifled a yawn.
You could hear the birds outside and from the way the sun angled into the room through the drapes, you assumed it was still fairly early. You hated that you could never seem to sleep until later into the morning, but you couldn’t help the fact that when you're up, you're up for the day unless you’re ill.
Walking to your window, you drew open the curtains and immediately shut your eyes. Peeling them open slowly in a squint, the morning light was brilliant until you finally adjusted to the sudden light difference. Letting the morning sun warm your room with sunspots, you started to change.
Tossing away your nightdress, you changed into your everyday- not at all flattering- attire.
A dress of a faded moss green skirt and a stretched, overly used leather corset around your waist that tucked around the white top half of your dress. Tying your hair back you slipped on some socks.
Leaving your room, you immediately dashed to your fire place where a kettle of day old water hung from the single hook inside the top of the pit. Striking a match, you ignited the wood that had not yet been completely burnt and noted to refill the kettle with fresh water later on- too lazy to do it right off the bat.
You walked around your small, cabin home jumping place to place with small tasks or chores that took a mere few seconds to complete to start your day off waiting for your kettle to whistle with hot water. When it finally did, you carefully took your kettle with a cloth wrapped around your hand and set it on your countertop. Grabbing a clay mug from your cupboard (that you made on your own to your pride), you dropped in a few leaves from a box of herbs you had and poured the steaming hot water over them.
“Alright,” you assured yourself as you left your kettle to cool off again. After a handful of minutes, you took your mug and sat yourself at your small table that was made for two- but only occupied by yourself. You lifted open your window and let out a breathy sigh at the fresh air. You placed a small plate of grain and food on the open window seal and soon enough, birds were flocking to it to grab something.
“Good morning you guys,” you chuckled as you basked in the small moment of peace before the day ahead. You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there in your spot of sunlight and birds with the occasional squirrel, but after the sun had shifted just enough to get you to notice, you deemed it long enough.
Getting up, you set your mug into your sink and took the plate that was previously filled on the widow as you walked to your door. Grabbing a white cloak to tie around your shoulders, a small gathering basket and placing a pair of worn down, brown boots on, you were leaving your home. Grabbing the key that hung on a nail beside the door, you locked your cabin door behind you and placed the key around your neck.
Taking a list from beneath the small cloth in your basket, you started reading aloud to none other than yourself. You kept yourself company, that’s the only way you stayed somewhat entertained in your lonesome cabin.
You lived on the outskirts of your village, having been born in this cabin and growing up in it even when your parents left you there as a child. You found out quickly how to grow and live independently and by now it was just second nature. Sure, you had your rough days of work and weather, but it was manageable. At least you didn’t have neighbors that stressed you out- only the occasional bird, bat or squirrel that got stuck in your chimney that you had to chase out.
“I need to find some goldenrod for sure,” you muttered. “I’ll need to make sure not to grab yarrow in its place; although, I guess it wouldn’t be all that bad if I did.” Your knowledge and interest in medicine was also another reason why you never branched further into the village as a person. All they did was ridicule you for not following the status quo. “I need honey too, but I’d have to go to the village for that unless some merchant runs into me while I’m out.” You sighed, “I doubt it. I’m never that lucky.”
You started your way off, passing by the small well in your front yard and bypassing the small station of firewood you had yet to cut and move. A pile of logs sat sliced into thirds under a tarp beside your front door. The hardest part of your life was building the muscle and stamina to cut your own firewood, not to mention swinging and actually hitting the wood with your axe instead of magnificently missing it and getting the blade stuck in the stump you used to chop on.
As you walked away from your cabin, the trees becoming thicker as you followed the dirt trail further into the woods, you started looking around. Scanning for any signs of any herb that you may want to snag along the search for the days main goal: goldenrod. You started off the path and began walking between trees and away from small holes from rabbits and moles so you don’t jeopardize your ankles and fall.
You were searching for a while as you were knelt into the grass, scanning leaves and flower petals to identify what was what when you thought you heard something. From somewhere beyond the trees, past the wall of foliage, you though you heard a sort of... whining? Or maybe howl?
A sense of deja-vu washed over you. Had you heard this whining somewhere before? Was it a wolf cub or maybe a bear? No, it sounded too rough to be either of those. A cry echoed after a moment of silence and then the whines from before returned shortly after.
A part of you wanted to forget about it and leave the area immediately. Something about the way it seemed to bend and mold the air around you with it’s unfamiliar cry made your skin crawl. However, the bigger part of your heart that knew that the cries you were hearing were cries for help made you think otherwise.
Rising to your feet, you tucked your basket to your side closer in a pitiful sense of self-comfort as you made your way towards the cries. The trees became less dense and soon you were approaching a small opening. You could hear the sounds of metal clanking together along with the loud cries and whines. Perhaps an animal had gotten snagged in a trap? If that were the case, you wondered if you should free it or not.
Although you felt bad for the animals in the moment, you knew that they were someone else's food source or something important to help somehow; whether it be a pelt for warmth or their claws for weaponry. You had no right to free an animal that wasn’t your prey- so you decided that if it was an animal you’d leave no matter how much your heart ached.
When you could see the clearing ahead, you slowed your footsteps and slowly crept up behind a tree to peer around it. As you did so, your breath caught in your throat as you gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from choking and making a sound. You spun around, nearly dropping your basket from your arm as you hid behind the tree you had peered around and pressed your back firmly to it’s trunk.
Your breath shuttered, shook, halted and repeated. You couldn’t remember how to breathe properly as you tried to be as quiet as possible. Around that tree trunk and indeed caught in a metal trap was no animal.
It was a dragon.
You racked your brain trying to be reasonable. Perhaps it was just a trick of the mind? A hallucination? Maybe the leaves you boiled earlier that morning were hallucinogenic and you were simply too careless about what you were brewing in your morning daze?
You peered one more time around the tree trunk to verify and your entire body ceased up again at the same dragon from the first time you saw it. You didn’t hide immediately this time. You stayed hidden, tucked away but examined the situation the best you could; even if every orifice of your body was telling you to run.
You weren’t too well versed on the dragon race, but this particular dragon you had read about before in a book once- but only briefly. A wyvern you think it was called.
The creature was large, as tall as the trees- one not quiet fully grown yet you imagined. Or maybe it was because the creature was folded in on itself, crouched to the ground as it tugged on it’s trapped legs- so it appeared smaller en masse.
A large bear trap had sunk it’s sharp metal teeth into the scaled leg of the mighty creature. With nowhere near enough space to try and fly away- trap attached or not- and no room to try and back away, shake it off or even break the chain that held the trap in place, the dragon was ultimately stuck in whining pain.
It’s scales were that of ashen red; the color of a fine blush, but rough to the texture like brick. It’s arms were large and folded inwards, the talons of one digging into the earth to steady itself and the other crawling at the trap futility. It’s long tail was curled around it’s back and the length of it disappeared behind the tree line where you suspected it was barbed at the end. It’s head was long, thin and had three horns- one on the end of its nose and two on either side of it’s head.
Needless to say, it was a wonder to witness. A dangerous wonder, but a wonder no less.
Dragons were a very rare sight around human territory. They hated the human race and for reasons that you couldn’t blame them for. Years ago, you had read about a war- if you could call it that- that took place between human and dragon.
The humans in their invincible high from all sorts of discoveries and conquering of other places had decided to set their sights on the dragons. If they could tame the mighty beasts of the skies and elements and use them as war creatures- the people would reign over all. That’s what they had assumed.
They had no idea just what they had signed themselves up for when they marched into Dragon Country. The doom that took place was instantaneous for the first brave and foolish group of marchers and it only got worse.
A group of nearly 400 men were slaughtered at the hands of just a few dragons who were the first to be approached as mere animals. Burned alive, crushed, eaten, slashed into ribbons- the humans stood no chance in hell.
Then, the dragon’s returned the favor. If the humans wanted war, so be it. The dragon race was smart, far smarter than the average genius human being. With magic on their side along with their mighty strength and numbers, they took to the Humanlands and burned it to the ground.
This pathetic war lasted no longer than a week and nearly one-third of the human population was blown away from the very beasts they had wanted to tame and use.
The two had long since left each other alone, no one wanting to repeat the past. Humans fear dragons due to the stories- that was unavoidable. However, dragons live long and hate even longer. They can hold a grudge longer than that of a devil or demon.
That is what shook you to your core as you gazed at this one single dragon caught in the woods of the Humanslands. Why was it so far from Dragon Country? Had it wandered here because of boredom? Perhaps it was banished by the king of dragons you had known about. Or maybe this dragon was just foolish. You weren’t sure and you less sure if you’d stick around long to find out.
The creature was a terror and the snarls and whines and cries that came from it were something that would surely haunt you in the middle of the night when you hear the wind howl. Regardless of that however, you felt pity for this dragon.
As of the moment, it had hurt no one and you had heard no word of any dragon attacks. It was just stuck, injured and helpless. Before you could muster up the conscience to quietly leave, you stepped forwards just an inch and knocked a small rock from its place on a tree root.
The dragon’s head whipped up, it’s sensitive nose finally catching a whiff of a different scent that wasn’t of Woodland descent now that it wasn’t as preoccupied with the stupid bear trap.
It’s black coal eyes narrowed as it’s mouth opened to show its rows of white fangs that could easily devour you. A violent shiver ran through your entire body as your eyes connected with its own. You were discovered and there was no going back down.
Swallowing the lump in your throat felt like a massive stone was lodged inside. You took a few more shaky steps forward, showing your entire body to the beast. It’s winged arms lifted in defensive as it’s head lowered; it’s chin becoming level with the ground and still growling. You could see plumes of steam coming from its mouth due to it’s hot breath.
It was clear this particular creature wanted nothing to do with you- a human- and you couldn’t blame it. You didn’t want to be here either. This situation could end with you getting killed, but your morality and ability to sympathize with the weak or injured was larger than the risk of your safety.
Lifting your arms to show you had nothing on you, you started to enter the small clearing.
“Easy,” you hushed softly as the dragon snapped it’s jaw just one time in warning. You gulped again, daring to take another stupid and foolish step. “I want to help,” you said. Earning another growl in response didn’t shock you.
It took several minutes, a handful of snaps to stay away, constant growls and steam filled breaths for you to even get within arms reach of the trap. You were sure that if you made one wrong move the creature would bite you in half- but you had to take a chance.
You think the dragon knew this too. You were the closest thing to an escape it would probably find that wasn’t going to go and tell other humans to capture or kill it. It would cooperate until it was free, you were sure of that- but after? You could only imagine.
It’s winged arms were around you, shading you from the sunlight that the tree’s didn’t cover as your fingers brushed the cool metal of the trap. As you eyed it you wondered why someone would make such a large trap in the first place. It seemed far too large and frankly a bit overkill for a just a bear trap.
You look over your shoulder to see the head of the dragon that was the size of your body staring down at you just above your head. You swallowed for the nth time that morning in nervousness.
“I’m going to try and release it,” you say. “It’s going to hurt.”
You carefully pulled the sleeves of your dress up as you curled your fingers around the thick metal teeth. The scales of the dragon were broken and destroyed as the trap dug into it’s reptilian-like skin.
Blood had already begun to stain the metal. The trap’s teeth were warm- warmer than the rest of the trap due to the dragon's blood being so much hotter than an average animal or human. It’s hot, like steamed bathwater, and it steamed the metal to warm your hands almost uncomfortably.
You took a breath before you started to pull your arms away, fingers aching from pulling on the teeth to try and open the trap. You had been thankful in the moment that you did indeed chop your own firewood because it built up some bit of muscle in the grand scheme of things. The trap began to give and slowly creaked open bit by bit. The dragon’s coal black eyes widened a fraction as it started to wriggle it’s leg.
“Stop moving,” you hissed instinctively. If it thrashed too much, you could loose your grip and then it would just clamp down on it’s leg again. With a whining and grunting mixture of sounds, you soon pried it open enough to where you were almost certain the creature could free itself. “Okay,” you huffed in endurance as you held it open, “move!”
The dragon was quick to rip it’s leg out of the trap and send it, and you, off the ground. The rapid motion tore you away from the trap, the metal scratching your fingers as you fell to your ass and then onto your back in the dirt as the trap snapped shut again away from you. It fell to the Woodland floors empty and bloody as you hissed on your back.
You pain and breathlessness were soon replaced by fear and anxiety when you felt the dragon you had just freed hover over you. It’s taloned, long, winged arms were on other side of your body and it’s hind legs- one of them being the proffered injured one that still bled over it’s brick colored scales- were perched like it was ready to pounce.
It’s nostrils were hovering above your chin as it’s eyes bore dangerously into your own.
This was it. You were going to die, you were almost certain of it now.
The dragon huffed as it opened its mouth. Small licks of fire fanned across it’s tongue in the dark cavern of it’s fang lined mouth and steam pushed from it’s nostrils like a chimney that hadn’t been opened to let out the smoke of the fire in it’s hearth.
You were petrified, frozen in fear and weren’t even capable of breathing. All of your senses were focused on the threat of death inches away from you and you knew that no one would know that you died. No one would find it odd that you weren’t in the village like you were every few weeks or so. They wouldn't find it strange that your cabin was abandoned. And you were certain that they would not conduct a search for you- you didn’t matter to them in the long run.
You were going to die and you were going to do so alone and your body would stay alone until the earth reclaimed it in it’s soil.
The dragon only then opened its mouth further, roared into your face and then sprung off you. It plunged into the tree line, knocking down and busting through the trees and tearing up the soil beneath its claws and talons as it escaped. Running from you and leaving you alive.
“What,” you breathed as you soon let out a strong, almost painful, burst of air that had been held and contained in your chest. Your heart beat strong like it would burst straight from your chest into the sky. You weren’t sure how long you lay in the dirt just trying to regain control of your body that had been previously paralyzed.
When you did manage to pick yourself up- albeit pathetically- you grabbed your discarded basket once again and rushed home.
“No more outside,” you declared to yourself in the clearing of trees and the one bloody trap left behind.
-x-x-x-
Despite the events of the day behind you, once your heart calmed itself and you were able to finally rationally think again instead of assuming you were at death’s door, your mind would flutter back to the dragon and it’s injury.
As you carried in buckets of water from your well or logs of wood for your fireplace, you worried. You felt silly worrying over such a mighty and strong being, but you couldn't stop that cloud from covering your mind. You wondered how it was doing or if it made its way out of the Woodlands- only briefly thinking about the damaged and torn or uprooted trees in its wake.
You went to bed that night far earlier than usual. The blanket of black had not yet completely enveloped the sky of deep orange and red. However, maybe the early bedtime hadn’t been a bad idea, considering you were awoken in the middle of the night anyway.
It was a small noise in the distance. A sound like the padding of paws of a dog running on wood or horse clops on cobblestone. Small and forgettable, but almost irritating and grinding on the nerves of the listener.
Crawling out of bed almost at zero energy levels from your previous encounters, you shook your head to try and shake the sleepiness away. Trudging to your door, you cracked it open to try and see if it was some foxes scraping in the glory of midnight or maybe some critter getting into trouble. Instead, when your door opened, the sounds of an eerily familiar growl filtered through the air.
All tiredness from before flew away as you shut the door harshly and grabbed your cloak to throw over your nightdress. You rushed to your table to grab your glass covered lantern and lit it before blowing out the match and tossing it. Going back to your door you threw it open again and ran out of it. You didn’t even bother locking it, the key still hanging on it’s key as it flopped against the wall from the air of the forcefully shut door.
You ran through the woods, trying your best not to trip on any rocks or sticks. You let out an occasional wince from your bare feet scraping too hard on the dirt or catching on the rough end of a stone. You were going down hill when you saw in the shadows a series of trees uprooted or knocked in two with claw marks on the trunks.
You tried skidding to a stop when the hill started to level out steadily, but there was a fat chance of that happening. You threw open your arms and snagged a tree trunk to forcefully stop yourself from going further. Your legs flew out in front of you far too dramatically for a spontaneous run in the woodlands at midnight as your lantern nearly flew out of your grasp.
You huffed as you heard the same growls you had heard before echo around you. You could hardly see, but you could tell the outline of the dragon in the darkness. You looked around as your lantern had lost it’s flame.
You dug in the pocket you had sewn into your nightdress and struck another match, lighting it again as the fire dimly lit up your face. You were now fully aware you were seen- even though you knew it already to begin with.
The dragon had previously been nipping and lapping at it’s wound with it’s split tongue before you had interrupted it’s silence.
“I knew it,” you whispered as you saw the same dragon from before. You slowly approached it, somehow feeling a little more confident than earlier even though it still growled at you. “Hey,” you soothe, “you know me. Just let me see,” you said as you walked around it’s curled body to it’s injured leg. Lifting your lantern up to see better, you weren’t shocked to see the scales still wet with troves of blood. Just how much blood did dragons have?
If a human bled this much for this long, you were sure they’d be long dead by now.
You carefully set your lantern aside and worked around your neck to remove your white cloak from your shoulders. “Hold still,” you instructed as you started to rather sloppily wrap the wound. You couldn’t let it just keep bleeding and it wasn’t like you had anything else to try and wrap it in- you’d just have to sew a new cloak or buy a new one in the village.
You didn’t even take the time to be shocked that the dragon once again let you do as you pleased in aiding it’s unfortunate situation. In fact, it was silent. There was no growling or snarling, just the sound of hissing when you brushed against the wound or wrapped your cloak around it too tight.
When you finished, you almost pouted at the sight of your cloak already starting to dot with the dragon’s hot blood seeping through the fabric. A loss, yes, but you felt like it was worth it from the relief you felt in your chest at the dragon’s ease of tension.
“If you stay put,” you started, grabbing your lantern again and looking up at the dark eyes of the dragon you were becoming almost familiar with, “I can come back in the morning with something to help you.” The dragon showed no sign of obeying or denying you and you weren’t going to stick around and press the issue.
At the end of the day, it could still very well tear you apart.
You soon left the dragon’s side, the fire of your lantern lighting your way back home. You’d come back just as you said you would and if the dragon was still there, then you’d try and help further so that it can eventually go back home. Even you knew that it had a home somewhere and you were sure that home was missed to some degree.
When you returned to your cabin, you breathed a small sigh of relief when you saw that in your haste of not locking your door behind you- no nightcrawler had snuck in and wrecked your home or stole anything. You walked inside, shutting and tightly locking up behind you as you set your lantern on your table.
Wincing at your sore feet, you wrapped them in cloth and a paste of herbs you had in a jar to help soothe aches and pain before you tucked yourself back into bed. Hopefully, you could stay asleep until the sun rises this time.
-x-x-x-
You were pleased to see that when you opened your eyes again, you could hear the birds and see the sunlight of what looked like late morning. At least you managed to get some decent sleep- although you weren’t all too surprised looking back on the last 24 hours. A lot had happened and to say it was taxing was an understatement.
You were slow moving this morning; another thing you weren’t shocked about.
Trudging around your cabin, you walked around in your nightdress gathering small jars of salves and ointments that could be useful to the dragon in the woods that may or may not still be there with your- no doubt- beyond salvaging cloak.
When you finally got changed, you threw on a dress of a fairly unflattering shade of brown since you may be kneeling on the ground or thrown into the dirt again from the dragon. You wrapped up a new layer of paste for your still sore feet before pulling them into your boots. You grabbed your basket with your half-hazardly thrown together first aid treatments and left your cabin- actually locking the door this time.
It was all a blur on what direction you rushed to last night in your sleepy, adrenaline pumped haze, but you were able to clearly see where your footsteps pressed into the soil. Following your own trail, you carefully descended the hill you flew down the night before and when it all leveled out, you smiled at seeing the dragon sleeping peacefully in the same spot you left it.
“Good,” you breathed happily. You were glad it stayed put- whether it was because you asked or not didn’t matter. You would be able to help more now and nothing filled your chest with more glee than being of use to someone, or rather something in this way. Healing was your passion after all.
You slowly padded up to the sleeping dragon and decided against working on it while it slept. It could spring to life and attack you out of instinct for all you knew. You sat a good distance from its body and in view of it’s line sight for when it woke up you wouldn’t be hidden. You sat on the ground, you're back against the trunk of a tree as you started digging around your basket for the folded and wrapped up herbs you had.
You weren’t sure how long you sat in the tree shaded morning sun plucking, grinding and mixing different herbs together in a cloth draw pouched you had with you. Eventually you started to hear groans from the dragon ahead of you. You figured that if the first thing the creature sees when waking up was you staring at it, then you’d push away any future idea of treating its leg. So, you kept yourself occupied with your herbs until it made a noise of awareness.
A handful of minutes pass when you feel a warm wind push towards you. Instinctively, you look up to see the dragon’s dark eyes looking at you. You smile at the mighty beast, the polar opposite of yesterday’s fear stricken paralysis.
You finished grinding a handful of mint smelling herbs between your palms to sprinkle into an oil you had with you as you swashed it around in it’s cork plugged jar. It was odd, doing your everyday tasks with a dragon for an audience.
When you finished, you stood up after placing the jar back under the cloth of your basket and brushed off your dress’s skirt. You fumbled around to grab the small oval container of salve before you started to approach the dragon.
It didn’t growl and it didn’t snarl. It extended it’s winged arms as it’s head dropped to the ground and it’s leg that was wound with your cloak that was now a deep shade of red was pushed out further for you to inspect. You didn’t want to let it get to your head that maybe, just maybe, this dragon was learning to trust you.
You knew that dragon’s had to have good instincts, so maybe it just realized that you weren’t a threat.
You carefully unwound your awfully tied cloak as you tossed it to the ground in a heap. You were glad to see that the hot blood that had been continuously seeping through brick red scales had finally stopped. You twisted open the container and began to smear the salve over and between the thick scales to the broken skin beneath.
You had expected them to be cooler to the touch like a lizard’s skin, but the scales and skin of the beast was warm like a freshly doused warm towel.
The dragon let you work in peace as it watched you without disruptions or growls. It didn’t even twitch if you touched a particularly pain-sensitive area.
When you finished, you placed the cap back over the salve and looked up at the dragon to address it. “The bleeding looks to be done, but we should cover it with something.” You looked down at your soiled cloak. “We can’t reuse that, it’s already used and we can’t put dried blood back on a wound.” You started to walk away to your basket to place the salve back and maybe take your cloth in your basket to try and at least tuck it into it’s scales or something when something snagged your dress skirt.
Yelping, you spun around and took a moment to process that the dragon had moved it’s winged talon to step on your dress to keep you from moving. Looking up to its face, you saw it looked at you with a calm expression flitting through its eyes and it shook its head.
“What?” You asked more to yourself than the dragon. “You don’t want it to be wrapped?” The dragon only moved it’s head back to look at it’s leg before lifting it’s arm back up and freeing you. You trotted back to the dragon’s leg and squinted at it like he was trying to tell you to.
You gasped at seeing how the wound already looked way better than it had just twenty minutes ago. You saw the damaged scales start to repair themselves as the skin below it’s scaled armor pulled itself back together and became covered again. You looked back to the dragon’s face, relief evident in your expression as you breathed out a sigh of happiness with a hand on your chest like a weight had been lifted off you.
“Oh, thank goodness. I’m glad that the rumors of a dragon’s healing potential are true at least.” You went back to your basket, dropping the container of salve inside as you lifted it back into your arms. “I’m going to be on my way then,” you said. You felt a little bad for leaving so soon, but you had hardly gotten anything down yesterday because of your meeting with the beast, so you were already behind on your own personal tasks.
You still needed to find some goldenrod and if you were honest, plucking some stuff to replace the amount of salve you used on the dragon’s leg wouldn’t be so bad either.
As you left into the thick Woodland, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched. You peered over your shoulder several times and from somewhere you could almost tell that the dragon was watching you from beyond the trees. Dragons had eyesight far stronger than human eyes, so when you felt a stare on your back, you didn’t doubt it.
It was obvious that it couldn’t travel through the Woodlands like you could without plowing down trees in its wake and it wasn’t exactly spacious enough to spread its wings and take off in this section of the woods.
When you left a location you could feel the eyes following you and even heard stomping in the distance of the dragon moving so it could keep you in it’s sights. You wondered briefly why it would be following you around if not for it wanting to eat you, but you just shrugged it off.
It was just past midday when you had finally started to depart back to your cabin. As you unloaded your basket inside your cabin and began to put everything away, you went back outside to gather a bucket of water from your well and you nearly jumped out of your skin from the sounds rustling behind your home.
If the glimpse of horns and wings was anything to go by, you knew that the dragon had somehow squeezed around the trees and followed you back to your cabin. Even closer to human territory. You crept around the cabin and met the dragon face to face for yet another time as you just smiled at it. It seemed relaxed and at ease to your surprise.
“Are you going to follow me around now?” You playfully asked as all it did was let out a small huff. “I know you can understand me,” you teased as you looked it up and down. You felt bad mentally referred to it as ‘it’ all this time, but you had no idea how to tell what this wyvern was. “If you’re going to follow me around girl-” your sentence was stopped short at a small growl. You perched your brow up at the dragon as it glared down at you. “Boy?” You corrected as the unpleasant look left his eyes.
You ticked your head a bit, nodding to yourself.
“Okay, that settles that.”
Throughout your day, you had the company of a dragon sitting in your yard watching you work. When you were inside, you kept the front door propped open with a piece of wood at the bottom and the windows were open so the dragon could still see you and you could still talk to him.
You rambled- a lot. It felt silly to be having a one-sided conversation with a dragon, but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want him to feel left out- as odd as it was to say in terms of the beast- so you talked about a lot of things. Your hobbies, the process of making an ointment or what herbs to crush and mix with something to get the smell of berries. How you cooked and what it was; you even offered him a loaf of bread; he denied it (which you were glad for because that would have been an expensive sacrifice).
“I actually live here alone,” you speak aloud from the inside of your house so he could hear you through the open window his head rested next to on the ground outside. “I’ve lived here all my life practicing medicine and plants. I take care of myself decently well considering I live in the Woodlands.” You paused, mixing some broth with a pot of steamed vegetables and spices you had been boiling. “My village doesn’t exactly like me or my studies all that much, so my life here works out in the long run.”
You wondered if he found your babbling annoying since he was just stuck listening to you ramble on about whatever came to mind to keep him somewhat entertained. Spilling your life story wasn’t a thrilling tale, but it was a silence filler. You figured he didn’t mind as much as you may think since he stuck around.
When the day was ending, he made a sound of disgruntled groaning that wasn’t exactly a growl, but a sound of attention. He was apparently announcing his departure. You waved the dragon off through the open window as he left back into the Woodlands and you assumed that this would be the final time you met him.
You would be wrong.
Because that following day as the sun was high at just past midday, there he was again. Steadily, he was visiting you often and he became a normal part of your life.
-x-x-x-
“Hey, Suga,” you called when the dragon came into view from your window as you read in the morning light. You had started calling him by the name weeks ago when you caught him sniffing through your window at whatever you were baking at the time and accidentally sucked a bag of sugar up his nostril. You would have called him Sugar, but he just growled at the soft sounding name, so removing the R was the best deal you could cut him. He didn’t indicate what his name actually was, but you couldn’t just keep calling him ‘dragon’ or ‘wyvern’.
You had some decency.
You shut your book, setting it in the open window as you got up and made your way out. The leg that had been injured weeks ago had healed like it wasn’t hurt in the first place. No scar left behind and no scale left tarnished- it pleased you in all honesty.
Walking to him, he lowered his head to the ground with a small sigh through his nostrils as you brought you hand to run along the scales of his nose and head. It was like having a giant lizard fawn over your touch- or rather that was exactly what it was.
“Good morning, I haven’t seen you in a few days. Did you have a safe trip?” You asked as he just let out a small swooned dragon sound. You had gotten good at deciphering what his sounds and noises meant to a certain degree.
You had noted that every so often he would disappear for days on end and then return- be it a few days to a week or more later. He would travel to Dragon Country and then return to check and visit with you, or so you highly assumed. You knew that was his country and his home, so it was no shock to you that he went back. The shock was that he kept coming back to your cabin in the Woodlands.
You had read dragons were loyal, but this was astonishing. If regular visits with a mighty dragon was your reward for treating and freeing him from a trap, you had no regrets in doing so.
You stopped your ministrations on his head as you turned to go check off whatever chore you had left to do this morning off your to-do list when you felt his nose push into your back. Shoving you playfully forwards, you stumbled on your feet as you turned around with a playful smile and lifted brows.
“Oh you wanna play that way, huh?” You riled as he just huffed steam into your face. Your hair and dress whipped behind you as you just scoffed and jumped at him. The dragon shot to it’s legs and winged talons, skillfully dodging your puny, human lunges.
When you snagged your foot on your dress skirt and was ready to take a tumbling, ungraceful fall to eat dirt, his nose shot under you and caught you before you even made it close to the ground. Hooking your wasit with his horn, he nudged you back up to your feet as you just laughed at him and stroked his nose once again in gleeful thanks.
Suga almost purred- if dragon’s could ever.
As you spent your day with your companion, the sky started to tell you that night was coming and Suga’s departure once again was near. You were out in the yard, sitting on the grass with your basket beside you and all sorts of herbs, a grinding stone and jars and jugs to mix and create with. Suga lay behind you, curled around you like a protective wall, lazing away silently, but not sleeping. Just relaxed.
“Will you be back tomorrow?” You asked as you sprinkled some flower petals into a bottle of clear oil. He whined- a signal for no. “Going back to Dragon Country already, huh?” He huffed in agreeance as you chuckled. He sounded so sulky. “Will you be gone for a while this time?” He made no noise, but his head moved to affirm a yes. Another handful of quiet, dragonless days were in your future it seemed. “Well, be safe on your way. Watch out for traps,” you teased as he moved his body back just a bit for you to teeter backward from where you were leaning against him.
When he left you that night, his nose pressed against your torso as your arms wrapped around it in farewell. He had only started doing that recently- after his last trip back to Dragon Country in fact.
You always felt a little bit colder when he left you like that.
Four days passed and on the morning of the fifth, you had walked out of your house early in the morning with a freshly sown cloak of brick red and an empty basket. You dreaded going into the village for a great many reasons. But you simply couldn’t push it off any further and you needed things that only the merchants and shops in town would have.
It helped that when strangers would come into the woodlands and see your house, they would almost always knock on your door from curiosity and you’d always take any chance to sell something of your creation for a decent amount.
Locking your cabin door, you started your trip. You sighed. Hopefully, you’d be able to get into town and then get out just as quickly.
Suga had returned that day as he approached your cabin. He heard nothing inside and saw no sign of you around. Peering into our windows, you weren’t inside from what he could tell and he pouted at not seeing you. He lay at the side of your cabin, his head lay by your front door as he waited for you to come back.
A few hours passed and his ears picked up on the sound of your footsteps- he had familiarized himself with the sound and weight you put into your steps- as his eyes opened ready to greet you. However, a growl slipped past his fangs as he saw you come from the dirt trail between the trees that lead further out of the Woodlands.
You were shocked to see him back so soon as you wiped some sweat off your brow. Sweat that was mixed with dirt and the smallest dried patch of blood.
You had forgotten that Suga had never seen you go into and back from your village before, so the growl pulled from his throat made you shiver. Your forehead had a small cut about the length of your knuckle and your lip had a split in it. Your dress had grass strains in the knees and up the side of it as specks of dirt spotted your face and neck.
You walked to your door, setting your basket down with a cloth over it, the items you had gotten covered as you walked to Suga and placed your hand on the horn at the end of his scaled nose.
“What is it?” You ask, oblivious that it was your current state of disarray that made him fume with unease. He pulled his horn from your palm as he moved to nuzzle his nose into your torso. You stretched your arm to stroke under his eye as you soothed him. “Suga?” It wasn’t until he refused to move that you realized he was wondering if you were well and then you realized. “Oh,” you breathed, “I’m alright.”
He finally moved away from you and stared at you. You moved to pat his horn once before your fingers went under his scaled chin to lazily rub there. He almost hummed at the actions as you smiled with your split lip.
“This happens every time I go down to the village. Don’t worry too much, Scaly Hide.” As you soothed him, you weren’t completely aware of just how your injures made his dragon blood boil hotter than usual. You had been nothing but kind and vulnerable and truthful to him- a dragon- for no other reason than that’s just who you were as a person. Seeing you all cut up because of others? He found it absolutely preposterous.
As you rubbed beneath his chin, you started talking again. Your voice taking on a small wave of emotion he hadn’t heard from you before.
“I’m almost jealous of you,” you told him. His barbed tail twitched at your words. “I don’t know what the world of dragons is like, so I can’t say whether or not you understand the scorn of others. The prospect of you not having to deal with other humans though is one to be envious of.” Your eyes had a far off look of sadness that riddled his scaled body with pain.
He pulled his head from your hand and moved to nudge it behind you. He pushed your body against the giant wall of scales that is his own body as you started laughing at him. It wasn’t hard to understand an awkward attempt of a dragon wanting to console you. You raised your arms, reaching around what you could as you hugged his neck while his head stayed pushed against your back over your shoulder.
Suga didn’t understand how humans could do this to others of the same race. Dragon’s weren’t just comrades in arms in battle, but they were kin. They were branches of family, dear friends and reliant to each other in a way that didn’t just revolve around war and destruction. Of course, his race wasn’t perfect either with the occasional rouge or traitorous dragon, but those specific turncoats were always taken care of.
He couldn’t understand why humans hurt you, and he didn’t want to understand why. He just wanted it to stop.
When you finally stepped away from him and got back into his line of sight in front of him the look on your face made him feel better. It looked like you were already recovering from all the bad emotions that plagued you earlier. He blew a small huff of steam into your face playfully as you swatted at his horn.
“I’ve been curious,” you started, “I read once that dragons have large quantities of magic and even have a second form they can change into. A human form that is different with each species. Do you have one?” His chin dipped as he let out a noise of confirmation. He did have one, though it had been years, maybe even centuries since he last changed into it. He didn’t even remember what it looked like anymore- he had forgotten about it truthfully.
Your eyes light up in excitement at the discovery.
“You do! That’s so cool!” Your over-excitement almost startled the poor beast. You let out a small sigh of contentment as you turned back to head inside and put your things away and to wash off the grime of your injuries. “I kind of want to see what it looks like,” you mutter, unable to realize that your thoughts slipped out in the form of words that were just loud enough for the dragon to hear.
Suga was quiet as he stood guard outside your home for the rest of the afternoon. The only time you left was when you went down to the small lake nearby and washed up. He was a distance away to keep anything or anyone else from intruding on your privacy. He seemed tense, but also not- even if it didn’t make sense. You tried asking him what was wrong with him, but he just nuzzled his head into your chest without a sound.
When you told him goodnight he left in the same silence he had been sitting in all day. It took a little longer for you to go to sleep because of your worry.
The next morning, you woke up and did what you always did. Same old routine with the label of a different day. Though, when you left your home to go and grab a few pieces of cut up wood for your fireplace, you stopped short. Outside your door, sleeping against the side of your house on the ground was a man.
You hadn’t seen this man before in your life and you were shocked speechless as you looked him over. He was dressed oddly, far different than the men in your village dressed.
His body was lean and covered in small scars around his chest, as shown from the absences of a shirt. A long, black cape hung at his back that he used to lounge on instead of the hard, dirt ground as the collar of it was covered in fur that covered his shoulders and brushed against his chin. His pants were brown and baggy that wrapped around his ankles and displayed his bare feet that were no doubt covered in calluses. Red gauntlets ran from his wrists to his elbows on both arms that were crossed against his bare chest.
You were hesitant to wake him up, but this was your cabin and it was early in the morning. If Suga came by to see another man here, he could get defensive and that was a scenario you really didn’t want to witness.
You knelt at his side, the door to your cabin still open behind you just in case he was hostile and you had to retreat back inside in a rush. You reached out and grabbed his shoulder- his skin was hot. You shook him once- nothing.
“Excuse me?” You squeaked as you shook him again. He groaned as his head nodded off to the side before his chin dipped and you saw his brows moving underneath the fridge of his black hair. You retracted your hand when you felt his shoulders move up and heard him take in a breath of awakening. “Sir, are you alright?”
Lifting his head, his eye were narrow and dazed in sleep as he looked up at you. They were beautiful. They were dark, black and shining like obsidian jewels. They were... familiar? You squinted at him as he opened his mouth.
“Oh,” he lazily breathed out. His voice felt like a breeze of summer wind. “You finally woke up,” he told you as you just started inquisitively at him.
“Isn’t that my line,” you quipped back. “Do I,” you hesitated, “have we met before?” He didn’t answer you as he just sat up straighter and raised his hand to your face. His warm hand ran along your jaw to your lip where he pushed against the scabbed over split in it. You flinched away from his touch as you backed away from him, your eyes locked onto his without any will power to break the contact.
“You said you wanted to see what my human form was like,” he point forwardly told you. You looked him over one more time before returning to his eyes. So that’s why they looked so familiar.
“Suga?” You asked with a pitched voice.
“My name is actually, Yoongi,” he smirked as an unfamiliar heat rose in your cheeks.
-x-x-x-
Yoongi’s visits continued and he often stayed in his human form around you now. He would waltz into your home with you and even started helping you with chores around the cabin. He’s taken to splitting your firewood (although he wouldn’t use your hatchet, he’d just rip the logs in half), and would carry things for you when you were moving to and fro. He’d watch you cook and learn if you offered to teach him something.
You had to admit that having him walking and working around with you as a human instead of a wyvern was a lot more convenient. Plus, this way he was able to have actual conversations with you.
The season’s started to change and the cool breath of autumn began to creep into the air. You would often wonder if Yoongi would stop coming to visit when the temperature drops.
“Yoongi?” You called as he sat in the middle of your floor in front of the burning fire. It was late in the afternoon as you were cooped up inside away from the chilly air. He turned to look over his shoulder at you over his fur lined cape collar.
“Hmm?”
“When winter comes, will you still visit me?” You asked as you took a drink from your warm tea before setting it back down on the table with the book you had been reading before. “I mean, you’re still technically a reptile in basic regards, so you must not like the cold that much.”
“It’s true that I don't like the cold,” he said, “I hate it. It makes my scales rough and then that makes it tough to move around.” You let out a small, nearly silent sigh. “However, if you get lonely, I’ll still come see you.” You looked back at him as he was staring at you completely serious.
The conversation died after that, you not having the heart to ask him to keep visiting. You couldn’t ask that of him if he disliked the cold that much. Surely, you’d be okay without him by your side for a few months, right? Besides, you still had until the first snow to spend with him, autumn had just started after all.
Another week passed and you had once more traveled into the village for some items you needed that you had run out of. It was no shock seeing a trip to the village so soon after the last considering you had been feeding and caring for Yoongi when he came to your cabin. Supplies run a lot faster on two figures instead of just one.
Yoongi had been gone the last couple days, so you assumed he’d be popping by anytime now so you went as soon as you could. To your misfortune, when you returned once again roughed up, Yoongi was sitting in front of your cabin door waiting for you. You had half a mind to sneak in through your bedroom window and avoid him for a bit before you let him in to avoid him seeing your freshly beat body.
Though, you spent just enough time in mental turmoil that he had seen you already.
He jumped to his feet, his face an expression of shock as he ran to meet you half way as you walked to your cabin. You greeted him with a smile just as you always did.
“Good-”
“Hush,” he shushed you as he quickly took the basket from your arms and set it on the ground at your feet. He took your chin between his fingers and started tilting and moving your head around in different angles looking you over. Your cheeks flushed as he stared intently at you. You knew it was just an inspection of your wounds, but it still made your heart pound in your chest. “They hit you again,” he growled.
“Yoongi, it’s alright.”
“No,” he seethed, “it is not.” You swore you started to see small wisps of smoke seep from his nose as he breathed steam. He must be really angry, you though. “They cannot just keep treating you like this just because you’re you.” The hand that held your chin moved to rest on your cheek before gliding up to your forehead- pushing your hair back as his hand moved to rest on the back of your head. “Human’s really are cruel,” he whispered.
You couldn't argue with that.
“I’m already used to their treatment,” you attempt to sooth. The physical pain may still occur with each lashing, but you had long since grown emotionally distant from them. They couldn’t break you any further.
“You shouldn’t be. You should be treated with respect and kindness.”
“Like how you treat me,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Yoongi paused, his hand coming down to rest on the crook of your neck, his long nails running over your pulse point as his eye softened.
“No,” he whispered. “I’m the only one who can treat you this way.”
“What?” You were confused. He treated you exceedingly well and he wanted other people to treat you better too, but not like him? “That doesn’t make much sense, Yoongi.”
“It does to me.”
“Well, then the argument is officially over, huh?” You chuckled as he brought his hand off you and reached for your basket. He let a smirk grace his lips as he turned and led you back to your cabin so he could help you clean your injuries.
As he helped treat and dress your wounds and even helped you make the daily meals, he would nit pick about you going into town. He offered to start going with you, or at least waiting on the edge of the village so he wouldn’t make a fuss in human society with his less than human approach to things, but you denied him.
He wanted to argue with you, to let him do as he wanted, but you just told him that you usually only went on days he wasn’t with you. It was never planned, but things just always seemed to fall in that manner.
In the end, he yielded on the subject; however, before he left that night, he presented you with something. A flower-sized, brick red scale. He placed it in your palm before he left you.
“If something ever happens, you use that scale and call for me. I’ll come flying over as quickly as I can.” You laughed at his over protectiveness. Dragon Country was miles off from here, so it would take him more than a handful of minutes to get to your cabin depending on where in the world of his kind he was at in the given situation. You accepted the scale nonetheless, grateful for his tender gesture.
Everything seemed fine again for time, until Yoongi came to your cabin and saw you prepping to go into the village yet again one morning. He scowled as he watched you pull your red cloak over your shoulders and grab your basket as you pulled on your boots. He hid behind the wall of your home as you locked the door and were on your way.
Yoongi didn’t want you to know he was there following you. He stayed behind you as you walked the Woodlands trail back to society and the entire way he pouted that you had once again not told him you were going.
He stood on the outskirts of the village that brought you harm, sitting high up in a treetop to avoid being seen. He knew going into the village after you would get him caught and he knew that if someone even looked at you strangely, he’d probably snap.
He sat there for a while, just waiting and watching until you finally showed up again, ready to head back home. His back straightened as he almost smiled seeing you unharmed. He was going to jump down and greet you, fess up that he had followed you and let you scold him as he walked you back home, but before he could even begin moving, he stiffened.
Knelt on the tree branch he hid behind the brown, red and yellow leaves that hadn’t fallen to the ground and the black of his cape as a group of boys not much older than yourself ran up behind you. You were just at the tree line of the Woodlands when they had taken your basket from you and shoved you from behind, making you fall to your knees with a cry.
He was technically in Woodland territory, he had no problem showing himself outside of your village.
As you rolled onto your back, ready to shove your way to your basket and scurry away just as you had a million times before, something fell from the treetops behind you. Twisting your body, you only saw a blur shoot past you before one of the three boys was on his ass in the dirt groaning.
Turning back to your front, your mouth dropped open.
“Yoongi?!” One boy had helped the other off the ground as the last was squaring up to start a scrap with this random guy who had popped out of the Woodlands. You wanted to shoot up and tell them to stop it and leave Yoongi alone, but they froze before you could even warn them.
The three of them swallowed as they started taking small steps backward in retreat.
Yoongi had tensed his whole body, fingers curled with his claws out. His face had scales trailing from his cheekbones to his chin as his eyes seeped with complete blackness. It was like his hair was standing on end as he snarled and raised his lips to bare his fangs at the offenders. He was daring them to try him.
Anyone with two eyes, even one eye, could clearly see this man was a dragon and nothing short of a fierce one who didn’t know how to stand down. Not willing to pick a fight with a being of that caliber and not being properly prepared to boot, the trio turned tail and ran back into the village.
It was deathly silent as they retreated and Yoongi’s body seemed to relax as you started at his back. His still shoulders went slack as his squared and ready to pounce stance calmed and straightened back out. His hair settled and the small growls you had heard before disappeared.
“Uh, Yoongi?” You call softly, not knowing if he was going to whip around and start yelling at you or not.
He did not.
He calmly walked to the basket they had taken from you, picking it up and walked back to your side. He set it down before he grabbed your arms gently and started to pull you off the ground. Once you stood on your feet, he straightened out your cloak as you brushed off your dress skirt.
“What are you doing out here?” You asked him, but he didn’t answer you. He just placed his hand on the small of your back, turning you around before he gently pushed you forward to start you off back into the Woodlands and back to your cabin.
No matter how you tried to talk to him, he never answered the entire trip. He was completely silent and he didn’t give you any facial ques on what his problem was either. He stayed quiet, a still canvas all the way into your cabin where he sat your basket on your table then sat himself in front of your fireplace that wasn’t even lit yet. It was like the might dragon was pouting.
“Yoongi, please just come over here,” you plead. You walk behind him as you see his shoulders slump in a silent sigh before he’s standing in front of you again. He turns and looks down at you and instead of an angry look in his eyes like you were expecting, you see them shine with unshed tears. “Yoongi-”
He pushes the words from your throat out of you as he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pushes you face into his warm, bare chest. He lets out a small, shaky breath as his hold tightens around you. The hand on the back of your head holding you to him felt desperate and sad. You reach around him and snag you hands on the inside of his fur lined cape behind his back.
“I was worried about you,” he all but whimpers. “I know I shouldn’t have followed you, but you didn’t tell me that you were going to that village again and I just couldn’t stop myself. I was so relieved to see you unharmed as you were leaving, but then those scumbags,” he cut himself off with a harsh breath. “Does that really always happen to you?”
You nod and give a weak ‘yes’ in reply.
“No more,” he tells you. “I won’t let it happen anymore. I’ll keep you safe and I’ll protect you from them. Even when winter comes, I won’t stop visiting you. I’ll keep coming back, I promise.” You wanted to deny him, tell him not to worry about it since he can’t stand the cold. But, you felt selfish and you wanted him to keep coming back. You wanted him to dote on you and to keep you safe like he says.
“I’ll be relying on you then,” was all you told him. When the moment is past, you pull away from his warm chest to look up at him with a playful grin. “You’re pretty pushy when it comes to my safety, it’s almost cute.”
He shoves you at your jest as he tells you to sit down and go unpack your things. He plops himself back in front of the fireplace, huffing a ball of fire to get it going in a hurry. You weren’t sure if it was the light from the fire or not that painted his cheeks pink.
-x-x-x-
You went without village harm for a month now. Just as he said, Yoongi was at your side at least every other day instead of a few days away at a time. He’d always ask if you were alright or anyone had given you any trouble. He knew when you were lying, he had gotten good at telling apart your quirks, so when you told him you were alright he was always relieved.
The weather kept getting colder and you kept getting more concerned about Yoongi’s choice to go against the cold to come see you as often as possible. You always thought about how to tell him to not come after the first winter snow to help his overall health; you just had to figure out a way to phrase it so that he’d actually listen.
It was one of those nights where you hadn’t gotten to sleep very early with your thoughts, and you had just drifted to sleep. You were somewhere between unconscious, yet aware as you briefly heard something in the distance. You weren’t awake enough to care and you weren’t aware enough to think it was something other than the nighttime animals.
A handful of minutes pass when you’re suddenly ripped from your sleep just as you were equally ripped from your bed. A grip on the back of your nightdress yanked you from your side sleeping position and pulled the fabric against your neck as you choked out a surprised gasp.
You kicked your legs in panic, your blanket hitting the floor of your room as you were pulled off your mattress and onto the floor. Hands grasped your biceps and began to drag you backward. You finally found your voice in the form of small screams and protests. You stumbled from the balls of your feet to your heels as you were pulled backward through your cabin before you were through the front door and on the ground.
Laying in the dirt and covered in goosebumps from the cold night air, you rolled to your back and propped yourself up with your elbows to see who just evicted you from your home. You shouldn’t have been shocked to see a band of men from the village, yet you were. You instantly started trying to scoot backward on your elbows and heels.
They were covered in furs and boots with torches in hand to light their way through the darkness. You looked at them in fear and confusion. What were they doing this far from the village and why were they here at all?
“What are you doing?!” You scream, your heels kicked into the dirt as your nails dig into the earth trying to back you away from one oncoming man, a blond one. You squirmed as one of his feet kicked at your wrist and pushed your back to the ground as he grabbed you by the collar of your nightdress. You whined, grabbing his wrist as you grimaced with squeezed shut eyes.
“You witch,” he accused as you peeked open your eyes. “We’ve let you live close to us, but you’ve gone and made a pact with a demon- a dragon!” Your eyes widened. Is this because Yoongi just popped out of nowhere a month ago when he followed you?
“You’re wrong!” You denied. You had no pact with him. He was just- you paused mentally. Was Yoongi a friend to you? You had been unconsciously thinking that for several weeks, but saying that out loud and admitting it to yourself as well as someone else- friendship didn’t feel like it did it justice. Was the connection you had with the dragon you saved from that trap- the same dragon who snarled in your face and decided not to kill you all those weeks ago- really just a friend? You swallowed.
Your breath lurched in your throat when the grip of your collar was released in turn for the hand to now encase around your throat fully. You gagged for a moment as the blond’s nails burned against your skin.
“Ransack the place!” The man who held your throat shouted over his shoulder. The two other men with him ran into your cabin and your squeezed shut eyes opened. You shoved the man’s hand off you, your neck burning as you pushed against his chest. He fell on the dirt as he groaned.
“Don’t! Leave my cabin alone!” You cried as you scurried to your feet. You didn’t get far before your ankle was grabbed and your leg yanked back. You tumbled ungracefully onto your chest, your nightdress riding up your legs and bum as you felt a weight on your back. The blond was sitting on you as you kicked. He held one of your arms behind your back and his other hand pushed your cheek into the dirt, holding your head down. “Stop it!” You cried into the earth as you heard sounds of destruction in your home.
Glass being thrown to the ground and broken, your shelves being pulled from the wall. You heard doors of cabinets opening and slamming shut after everything was pulled from them. The distant sounds of mess told you they were evening throwing things around in your room. You weren’t sure what they were looking for- evidence? But for what? Your connection with Yoongi to use against you?
“Hey!” One called from inside. “I found something!” Footsteps came back outside and stopped above your head. You were yanked up to sit on your knees- nightdress dirty and covered in small tears and frays of fabric- as the blond behind you snagged a hand in your hair pulling your head to look up. You winced as your eyes instinctively shut in pain before your chin was grabbed in a new hand.
A man stood in front of you, brown hair and accusatory eyes. In front of you, he dangled the scale of Yoongi’s he had given you that you had placed inside of a glass locket to keep it safe. You jolted in the blond’s grip, ripping your chin from the brunettes touch.
“Don’t touch that!” You screamed. The blond restrained you tighter. “Stop! That hurts!” You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.
You weren’t sure how long those men kept you outside your home as they continued to trash it. You were less sure how long you were out in the cold, pinned to the ground and jerked around like a toddlers ragdoll.
Stomps to your legs to keep you from crawling or getting up and away. Jabs to the stomach to subdue you just long enough to restraining you as you tried to get your breath back. Knocks to the head to try and knock you out as you kept on fighting back. The cold was starting to get to you, your fingers and toes going numb. Scraps on your knees and elbows from the cold, autumn chilled dirt.
You were on your back on the ground, the same blond over your, pushing your face down as your arms were trapped under his knees that pinned you on either side.
You were close to giving up. You were going to lose your home- you expected them to set it on fire- and you were going to no doubt end up losing your life if this kept up. Would they take you back to the village and execute you? Tears trailed down the side of your face as you chewed on your lip.
This wasn’t fair.
“Yoongi,” you whimpered as your palms pushed into the earth, the dirt and rocks pushing into your skin just painful enough to keep you conscious.
It seemed instantaneous to you. It felt like a whirlwind just formed at the center of your small world as the gusts of wind blew around you. The man above you was blown off as he rolled in the dirt away from your tired, weak, and beaten body. Whimpers of terror rang in your ears from the other men as growling accompanied those whimpers.
Stomping and rushes of heat surrounded you with ignited sparks in the night sky. You managed to push yourself over to weakly roll onto your side and twist onto your stomach to look up at exactly what was happening. You didn’t see anything in front of you other than your cabin and the three men all on the ground cowering from the sight of something.
Your dazed eyes narrowed before you heard another growl and the feeling of something massive standing over you. Coming to a stomping halt at either side of you with distance to spare and to not make you feel suffocated, your eyes widened. You felt more awake now than the rest of the evening.
Twisting to look up, you were met with the mighty, giant form of the wyvern you had freed from the metal trap of men. Snarling with bared fangs and small puffs of fire on his tongue, Yoongi stood over you protectively.
Tears ran down your shocked face without your control at seeing him really showing up at your side when you truly, desperately needed him with you. You felt weak, but before your body could slump onto the ground, something grabbed you.
Another new body had looped their arms under yours to keep your chest off the ground and held you to them. You didn't recognize this person as you looked up at them. Another man, but this seemed far more mystic.
Snow white eyes with no iris or pupils to sit in their seas of white. Illuminated scales of white shone on their cheeks and their ears were pointed and finned. Hair as silver as the moon and skin as tanned as cooper. Was this another dragon? You couldn’t tell anymore; all you knew was that you felt safe in this person’s arms with Yoongi above you.
You slumped against them, your consciousness finally starting to fade on you with the adrenaline running low now that you felt a sense of safety. You couldn’t lose it yet, however; you had to calm Yoongi down. The men had stopped their attack in fear, so Yoongi didn’t need to instigate further.
“Yoongi,” you called weakly against the second dragon’s chest. “Don’t,” you pleaded. There was a small hush before the wind picked up and the stomping that was present before was replaced with harsh footsteps. Yoongi had reverted back to human form as he ran at the blond man who had previously held you down.
Yoongi’s long claws tore and pierced through the shirt fabric of the blond’s collar as he brought him up to his nose, snarling down at him. His fists shook in rage as his body trembled with restraint in your presence. Had you not been there, he was certain he would have killed all three of them without hesitation.
He picked the blond off the ground just enough to make his toes leave the grass as he threw him at the other two. He huffed, steam blowing out of his nose as his face remained angry.
“You ever come back here and I, as Y/n’s personal dragon, will tear you apart,” he threatened. “Now, leave!” He roared as the three men scrambled embarrassingly to their feet and down the trail back to whatever hole they crawled out of.
Yoongi huffed, breathless as he quickly heard your whimpers behind him. He spun around, rushing back to your side as he knelt on the ground beside you and took you from the other dragon’s grasp. He ran the back of his fingers along your cheek as you saw him. His calm, worried face brought you a sense of peace as you knew the trouble had left.
“Rest,” he whispered as you finally lost yourself to the unconsciousness that had been choking you around the throat.
-x-x-x-
You groaned slightly as your eyes cracked open. You were on your back as your lidded eyes were blurred staring up at the ceiling of your room. You were in a haze as you looked into nowhere. Thoughts were muddled in your head as you were aware of nothing for a handful of minutes, still high from sleep and drowsiness.
The sun shone through your open window as you heard the birds outside sing. It was bright- far brighter than you were used to waking up to.
It all came back to you all at once like a punch to the jaw. Memories of being dragged out of your bed, your home, to outside and pummeled until you were weak in the dirt as your home was broken into and wrecked.
Your arms shot up from under your blanket as they threw the covers off and you sat up straight as a rob. You sucked in a deep breath that hitched in your throat from the sudden movement that clouded you with a wave of dizziness.
Your palm moved to push into your forehead as your eyes squeezed shut and you hissed. Cracking them open, you felt something burn into your side like someone staring at you. Looking beside your bed, you weren’t wrong.
Sat on a stool beside your bedroom door was that same unfamiliar dragon with snow white eyes from the night before. You stared back at the unmoving dragon. Was he… sleeping? His eyes were open, but his arms that were crossed didn’t even twitch and his body was still as a corpse. He sat straight up and showed no signs of movement.
Did some dragon’s sleep with their eyes open? Yoongi didn’t, but maybe other breeds did.
“It is a relief to see you’ve awakened,” he suddenly spoke. You squeaked in shock, not expecting him to do- much less say- anything. “It has been a handful of hours since you lost consciousness.”
You looked away from him as you looked down at your lap. You scrunch your blanket in your palms, the same palms that you were finally starting to feel the stinging sensation of when you were thrown to the dirt. The small cuts and scrapes on your knees and legs and arms all started to tingle with an indescribably unpleasant feeling.
“So, that wasn’t just a nightmare after all,” you sulked to yourself.
“It seems that Sire holds a great deal of worry about your condition.”
Your brows drew close together in confusion.
“Excuse me?” You asked, confusion painting around your eyes. This dragon with no expression and no irises with the pure white eyes just stared at you. “Sire? Who are you talking about? No,” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “Who are you?” You re-ask, wanting to know this stranger dragon first. He was just sitting in your room watching over you, you figured an introduction wasn’t out of the question.
The dragon brought a webbed hand up to their chest, lowering their head to you in a small bow. You recoiled at such an action. No one had bowed to you before in your life- that was reserved for royals and people of importance. Not someone like you, a Woodlands hermit. The action made a blush fan across your cheeks in embarrassment.
“I am Navia. I work under Sire as the leader of the Dragon Guard of His Majesties palace. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. It is a pleasure, My Lady.” His voice was smooth like the surface of a peaceful lake surrounded by nature. His usage of honorifics only made the embarrassing red cheeks of yours darken.
“Y-you don’t need to address me like that!” You sputtered as you twisted on your bed to slide your legs out of your covers and hang them over the bedside. “Just Y/n, is fine. I don’t need any titles,” your voice wavered in embarrassment as the white eyes of Navia returned to you.
“I do not know if I will be able to address you so casually. It may displease him.”
“You keep mentioning someone; Sire? Who is that exactly?” Navia never got a chance to answer when their was three knocks on your bedroom door before it was opened. The redness in your cheeks was broken and a smile pulled on your lips on seeing Yoongi in your doorway. “Yoongi!” You happily called as he quickly made his way to your bed, kneeling in front of you taking your hands into his own.
“How long have you been awake? Are you in pain?”
“I haven’t been up long, I was just talking to Navia and introducing ourselves. I don’t feel particularly good, but I don’t feel particularly bad either. Though, I feel better than I did if that’s anything to be accounted for.”
Yoongi’s eyes softened at your smile. You talked so easily and so soon after you were attacked so brutally. He wondered where you found the strength to do so. If he was in your position he’d be a pot of boiling rage, but he didn’t sense anything like that from you. Yet, instead he could see the sorrow behind your eyes.
“Navia,” he spoke as the dragon behind him stood at the call of his name. “Give us a moment,” Yoongi’s voice was stern with instruction.
“As you wish, Sire.” You looked at Navia as he left. You looked back down to Yoongi who was already looking at you as if you were the only thing he wanted to look at for the remainder of his life.
“Sire? So, he’s been talking about you?” You quirked your brow as Yoongi’s hand left yours and moved to cup around your cheek. “Yoongi?”
“There is a lot I haven’t told you and there are a lot of things we need to talk about. I didn't mean to lie- to keep it from you, but I just never had the chance to bring it up. Things about me I’ve kept from you.” You remained silent as he spoke no more. You both sat in silence for a while as you gathered your bearing.
Yoongi had taken to tending to you. You showed him once how to properly wrap bandages around wounds, and so he did. He wrapped any wound that seemed painful (which was many to his eyes) before he was helping you off your bed.
“Yoongi, I’m not so hurt I can’t walk myself,” you chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your back to support you. One of your arms clutched at the cape behind him as the other supported your balance on his chest. He held you to his side as he was careful not to rush his steps and trip you up.
“Still, you’re in no condition to be completely independent right now. Allow me to help you.” You almost scoffed at his aid as if you weren’t able to handle yourself, but you did appreciate it- especially when he didn’t need to offer such kindness.
As he helped you out of your room, you were shocked to see not a trashed cabin like you expected, but it was almost completely clean aside from the broken cabinet doors that sat against the wall in a pile. Whatever would have been broken was picked up and things were on the counter and on the table out of the way and where they belonged. A fire was even lit in the hearth of the fireplace.
You looked up to Yoongi. Did he clean it up? He helped you to the table where he sat you down on the chair by the window where you would normally drink something warm. You felt a little bad you hadn’t set out a plate of feed for the birds and critters today- but allowed yourself a pass considering your situation.
Navia was sitting by the fireplace as he watched the two of you. Yoongi moved to sit on the table’s edge- as unmanneristic as it was, it somehow suited him. He was in front of you against the wooden table, his fingers brushing along your cheek that had a patch over it to cover your cuts.
“Where would you like me to start, Scale?” He asked you. Your face deepened when he addressed you like that. Was that his form of a nickname? You shook the thought away as you opened your mouth.
“My cabin, I guess?” You realize you didn’t give him much of a specific answer. “I mean, I was expecting it to be a nightmare, but it’s so clean?”
“That is because I cleaned it up,” he softly told you with a small smile. So, you were right. “The times I have been here, I was familiar with the placements of most of your belongings. Others I admit I guessed, but I couldn’t leave it like it was. You have enough to worry about.”
“Well, thank you for that,” you graciously tell him.
“It was nothing.” You spent a good portion of that day talking to Yoongi where you were. If you wanted to get up and move to take a break from the flood of answers to any question you had, he would help. Navia would walk around and do small chores for you if you were kind enough to ask- or have Yoongi tell him to. The tanned dragon was awfully obedient, yet kind to a fault it seemed.
The shortened days of winter were showing as the sky started to progressively darken. You watched it from the window of the cabin you had been in all day. It had been a long time since you spent all your time inside without much of anything to do. It was relaxing even if under unpleasant circumstances.
Yoongi had handed you a mug of something warm for your throat as you thanked him and took small, cautious sips due to its heat. Yoongi watched you as you watched outside, the occasional chuckles slipping past your lips when you saw birds or squirrels chase each other around.
“Y/n,” Yoongi called as Navia had taken his place back by the fireplace. He was, unsurprisingly, not fond of the cold so he had stuck to the fireplace like glue as often as he could. “Do you want to leave this cabin?”
His question caught you off guard. You lowered your mug to the table top as you looked at him.
“What?”
Yoongi’s mouth was pressed into a thin line as his eyes were narrowed in a veil of anxiousness. In truth he didn’t want you to live here anymore. What happened the night before could very well happen again and what if he didn’t get to you in time next time? What if next time they drag you off or even kill you? He couldn’t handle that. He didn’t even want to think about it.
“If I left,” you chuckled bitterly as you looked back outside, “where would I go? I can’t just live in a cave or in trees.”
“You could come back with me.” There was silence in the cabin’s front room. The sound of the fire crackling and the small sounds from outside your walls. “Come back with me to Dragon Country and live there.”
“That’s impossible,” you told him. “I am no dragon. How could I live there?” You half expected Navia from behind to slip into the conversation and throw in his opinion on the matter. You, a human leaving the Woodlands and running off to live in Dragon Country? There was no way, it was preposterous. “Why take me back anyways?”
“Dragon’s are only able to choose one being to become absolutely loyal to without fault in their lives. We live for years, decades, centuries. The oldest of dragon’s can live for hundreds of human lifetimes, so we are especially picky when it comes to our choice.”
“What does that have to do with me?” You asked.
“I said so before, I am your dragon.” That’s right. You did remember him saying that in his rage the night before. Something about being your personal dragon and threatening the men not to try another attack stunt again.
“So, then-”
“I chose you,” he admitted. You felt your air leave you in silent waves. “Out of all things I’ve met of my years alive, you were the first to treat me kindly without expecting anything in return. You were my first in many things that warmed my being. That is why I want you to come back with me.”
You opened your mouth then shut it again before you shook your head, trying to process his words. You took a shaky breath and looked back to him again.
“Say I agreed, isn’t it too dangerous? I mean, you might be with me, sure, but I’m still just a human woman. What could I possibly do so you wouldn’t have to protect me all the time? Wouldn’t I just be a constant risk?”
“That would not be the case,” he told you sternly. “I would see to it that every dragon be made aware of who you are. Once they know, they wouldn’t dare lay a talon on you unless they’re turncoats.” Yoongi sounded so serious, you almost believed him. “They would treat you better than these humans ever have,” he promised.
“How are you so sure?” You narrowed your eyes at him, challenging his word. He sure sounded high and mighty for proposing something that sounded so risky.
“Because I’m your dragon,” he repeated. You almost groaned and rolled your eyes. You felt like you were running in circles with him.
“What does that have to do with anything?” So what? You get to boss around and rely on a dragon. As legitimately remarkable as that is, you didn’t seem to connect that to your safety in his country.
“Because my Master in question- you- would be commanding the dragon in charge of Dragon Country.” There was a beat of silence.
What.
“So, you’re claiming to be what? The King of Dragon Country? Am I just supposed to believe that?”
“Yes, you are.” He told you with a straight face. There was no sign of lying or hesitation. He seemed so sure and serious of himself that you were questioning yourself of his truth.
“But that’s-”
“If I may,” Navia spoke, cutting you off from behind you as Yoongi shot him a glare for interrupting you. You turned to look at the white-eyed dragon as his tanned skin shone with the fire’s casted light. “It’s wise to know that the King detests liars and lies in general.”
Your eyes widened as you whipped your head back to Yoongi who was still shooting the other dragon a look before he returned his sights back to you.
“Oh my Gods, you’re serious.”
The night concluded a long, well-rounded talk about just who Yoongi really was. Finding out he was a king was one thing, but it was harder to understand that you were now in charge and in command of that king. You felt simultaneously all powerful and powerless.
In the end, you did agree to go back with him; however, under one condition.
-x-x-x-
You sat at your desk in your room, scribbling line after line of ink on a piece of parchment. It had been a week since your ‘unfortunate situation’ as you called it and you were healing well. You fixed your cabin the best you could and moving around like normal again was easier by the day. You could already almost chop firewood again- not that you actually were. You had no reason to stock up anymore.
On your bed was a bag. One that was large and had the flap open to show the contents inside. A few folded dresses and one of your leather corsets that wasn’t completely ruined. Jars and bottles of salves, potions, crushed herbs, flowers, and sacks of roots and leaves. Even your favorite cup and a knowledgeable book about medicine. All neatly packed.
You stretched as you leaned back in your chair and looked out the window to your room. You smiled as a bittersweet feeling fluttered in your stomach.
You looked down at the letter you had just finished as you folded it up and placed it inside of an envelope before writing the name of to whom it would be addressed on the front.
Your windows rattled with a gust of wind outside. You smiled as you got up from your desk and grabbed your bag. You tossed the flap of ti over the bag, the large button in the flap of it looping through a latch to close it securely. You threw the long strap over your shoulder as you grabbed the letter from your desk and opened your bedroom door.
You stopped, turning to look at the room once more. It was clean, bed made and everything neat and tidy. You smiled sadly at your space before you said goodbye to it. You felt silly saying farewell to a room.
When you walked into the main room, Yoongi had already let himself in. He smiled at you when he saw you. Just as you had asked him a week ago, he had left you alone for the last 7 days. That was your condition, even if he grumbled about it. You wanted one last week on your own in your lifelong home- that was all.
He walked to you and grabbed your arm gently before bending to softly push his lips against his cheek. You jolted as you covered your skin with your hand.
“What was that for?” You asked, flushed.
“Simply, because.”
“That is not an answer,” you scowled. “Did Navia come with you?” You asked peering around his back to look.
“Of course he didn’t. I don’t need an escort.”
“Of course you don’t,” you giggle. You walked around your cabin, running your fingers over the surface of your counters, your fireplace’s bricks, your dining table and around the window frames. You took everything into your memory even though this was the only home you ever had. Maybe that was why you felt like crying.
“Are you unwell?” Yoongi asked, coming up behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders. He could see how hard this was for you even without you looking at him directly. He knew this was his selfish wish, but if you really wanted to stay he wouldn’t drag you away.
“I feel like I'm homesick, but I haven’t even left yet,” you chuckle as your eyes stung. One of Yoongi’s hands moved to rest on your head as he pushed his cheek against the top of his hand to lean against your head.
“It will be alright,” he soothed.
“I know,” you chocked.
You spent a little while longer in your lifelong home before you felt like you were finally as ready as you’d ever be to leave. You feared if you stayed too much longer you’d root into your floorboard and then you’d never move again. As you walked out of the house, you took the key that hung on the inside of the door frame and took it out with you. You didn’t lock the cabin door, instead you placed the key on the outside doorknob.
This cabin would be welcoming to anyone who needed it, that was what the key hanging outside the space signified.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Yoongi asked for the umpteenth time, earning him an eye roll from you.
“Yes, now take me away or else I’ll start ugly crying.” He chuckled before he was walking with you out of the Woodlands and when you reached the edge of the lands, he transformed into his wyvern form. You climbed onto his neck just behind his head so you could clutch onto his horns (or his ears, whichever worked best with your grip) before he was flying off with you completely.
Leaving that cabin, the humans and one single letter on the dining table addressed to ‘Villagers’ behind for good.
-x-x-x-
“Father! Look, is this what you were talking about?” A small child cheered as he ran through the Woodlands and came across a small cabin that was covered in overgrowth. The wood had been overrun with vines and moss. Small tree saplings sprung from the wood above on the roof and weeds overtook the ground that was once all dirt. The trunk that had once been used to chop wood years and years ago had a sapling of a new tree ready to grow in the next hundred years.
Nests of birds, holes and burrows of moles and squirrels littered the area.
The child ran around the perimeter of the cabin, eyeing it up and down as small plumes of red smoke puffed through their nostrils in excitement.
“I’ve never seen a human house before!”
“Juilius, come back to me before you trip or get caught in a vine.”
The child trotted back to his father who had come to the Woodlands simply to show his son what the home of a human looked like. Although, times have changed and this is certainly not how humans lived anymore. This cabin was long forgotten to time and nature had long since reclaimed it.
The visit was short and sweet to a degree as the child was soon ushered to be ready to leave. “Your mother wants you home at a reasonable time. We can’t keep her waiting.”
“I’m coming,” the child cheered as he started leaving the Woodlands with his father’s hand in his own. “Will I get to fly part of the way back this time? I swear I can!”
“Alright, you can until we hit the first mountain peak; but don’t tell your mother.”
“I won’t!” He promised.
Landing peacefully in Dragon Country and arriving safely at the palace, the child giggled happily to himself on how well he was able to fly on his own and how his wings were getting stronger day by day.
“Yes, but you still can’t retract your scales yet, now can you?” His father teased. Juilius pouted as his brick red scales refused to fade in his human form.
“Well,” a voice called to them in a happy tone. “You look just like your father when you pout like that with your scales out.”
“Mother!” Juilius cheered as he ran to his mother’s arm, clinging to her as he was picked up and nuzzled into her neck. “Father took me to the Woodlands today. He said that there was a cabin in the woods where you used to live, so he let me see it!”
You blinked down at your blush-cheeked scaled child. “Oh did he? I hope he didn’t let you fly at that dangerous height.”
“Nope!” The child grinned as innocent as can be- keeping his promise to his father in the small little white lie.
“You always assume the worst of me. Don’t you, Scale?” Yoongi teased as he came to your side with your child on your chest as his legs kicked playfully on either side of your hips. He was young, only a decade old. He was still a hatchling when it came right down to dragon ages.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Mother, can you tell me about the humans?”
“You’re always so curious about them. Why do you want to know, Hatchling?”
“Well, you used to be one right? Father said you only got your scales and horns when you came here.”
“Well, then that is going to be a long story. It’s only right if your father helps tell part of it too. It is his fault I became a dragon in the first place,” you looked at Yoongi as he cleared his throat. “Isn’t that right, Your Majesty.”
“I really don’t know what you could be referring to,” he sheepishly retorted, looking away. As Juilius tried annoying the answer out of his father, he just shushed him. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
“That’s not fair,” the child pouted.
“My Lady,” your attention was called from Navia who had finally tracked you down. His white eyes glowing down the halls like nighttime fireflies as he approached. “A new hatchling was born in the valley this morning and it’s mother asked if you would be gracious enough to name them.”
Your eyes shined. “I’d love to,” you said as you set Juilius down and kissed his forehead. You moved to kiss Yoongi’s cheek as you allowed Navia to escort you away. The dragon child took his father’s hand.
“So, what mother said about how she became a dragon; why do I need to wait until I grow up to know? Is it some kind of big dragon secret?” Yoongi’s face flushed as he cleared his throat again and was soon leading his son off somewhere else to clean up after his day out.
“I already told you, not until you’re older.”
Who knew that the exchanging of the blood and saliva of the king of dragons was able to gradually change humans into dragons? Yoongi certainly never knew until one morning you woke up with scales dusting your cheeks after a rather specific night.
To which would soon be the outcome of the pestering royal child, Juilius.
-END-
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New Beginning
While recovering from the injuries sustained during Civil War, Tony becomes addicted to morphine. In typical Stark fashion, he decides to quit cold turkey and deal with the withdrawal symptoms on his own. Fortunately, Bruce won’t let that happen.
As requested, here is the tumblr version! This is an AU in which Bruce returns to earth after Civil War. Pepper and Tony still haven’t made up, but everything else is roughly the same.
TW for mentions of drug abuse. Angst and Whump and lots and lots of Hurt/Comfort in the second half. Thanks to @whumphoarder and @sallyidss for beta reading.
——————————————–
The front doors of the compound open with a bit of a squeak. It leaves Bruce to wonder whether no one has realised, or whether the two remaining permanent inhabitants simply don’t care enough to fix it.
“Welcome, Dr. Banner,” FRIDAY greets him.
Bruce startles a bit at the sudden voice. He’s visited the compound quite a few times during the three months since his return to earth, but it’s easy enough to forget the existence of AIs when his own shabby apartment still doesn’t have a working WiFi connection.
“Hello, FRIDAY,” he replies. “Uhm, who all is home?”
Initiating a conversation with the AI makes him nearly as uncomfortable as initiating one with an actual human being, but it would take the better part of an hour to check all the rooms of the compound, and he’s not keen on experiencing the despondent feeling he would get upon seeing most of them empty.
“Only Boss. Colonel Rhodes left for Florida for his long-term treatment and is not expected to return before next week. Boss arrived home from his weekly meeting with Peter Parker at noon and has been in the upstairs bar ever since.”
“Could you let him know that I’m here? He should have gotten my message, we, uhm, had plans.”
“Of course, Dr. Banner.”
Bruce is looking forward to “doing crazy science” (Tony’s words) with his friend. Most of his time nowadays is spent alternating between attending yoga classes, seeing a therapist, and trying to establish a routine for himself. Returning to a planet where a year has passed for everyone else, just to find that his only friends had not only split up, but done so in a violent way, wasn’t exactly helpful for getting resettled on earth.
Bruce sets down his backpack in his own room. He has never gotten a chance to use it, but he is touched by its existence, by the fact that Tony, while planning the compound, seems to have been so sure he’d return one day. He changes into a comfortable sweater and grabs a lab coat. Now it’s onto science.
“FRIDAY, is Tony already in the lab?” he questions.
“I am afraid Boss is busy and won’t be able to join you for the experiment,” she reports.
“What?” Bruce looks up in confusion.
“I said that Boss is busy and-”
“No, I got you, FRIDAY, just…”
This is weird. Tony has been looking forward to this nearly as much as Bruce, as he was the one who first suggested measuring the half-life of the alien element that Bruce accidently brought with him from Sakaar.
“Uhm, he’s still in the bar?” Bruce asks tentatively.
“Yes, Dr. Banner.”
Bruce waits for an elaboration, but none is forthcoming. He really misses JARVIS. The old AI would always find a way to let him know what was going on, even if Tony had instructed him otherwise.
Bruce makes his way to the upstairs bar, getting lost only once along the way in the huge building. He finds Tony sitting slumped over at the counter, head resting on his folded arms. There is no drink next to him, no tablet in his hand, no rock music playing.
“Tony?”
The engineer turns his head a little when Bruce sits down on the stool next to him, but the hood of his sweatshirt is keeping his face in the shadows.
“I, uhm, hi,” Bruce begins. When no reply comes, he continues. “We were going to check our theories about the Sakaarium’s rate of decay, you remember?”
“I’m busy,” Tony mumbles into his sleeve.
“You don’t look busy...”
Tony doesn’t respond.
“You were with the kid this morning, right?” Bruce tries to change the topic.
“Yeah,” Tony answers in a brisk voice. “What do you want, Bruce?”
“I - I thought we were going to take the measurements?”
“I told you, I’m busy. Told FRIDAY, actually. There was no need for you to come up here.”
“Okay, what’s going on?” Bruce asks, slightly exasperated.
“You can just send me the data later. Easier that way.” Tony’s tone is almost hostile now.
Bruce tries very hard not to let his self-confidence slip away, but it’s futile. Maybe he overestimated the importance of their work to Tony. Their friendship has been a bit tense lately, with Bruce rationally knowing that the other man doesn’t blame him for going away, but still not being able to not feel guilty for his absence during Tony’s fallout with Steve.
“Okay, then I’ll just - go and do the experiment on my own.” He tries to keep his tone neutral while getting down from the stool.
“Bruce.” Tony’s voice is quiet, unlike him. He lifts his head and finally Bruce can get a look at his face. Exhaustion is written all over his features. He looks sad, sort of lonely, but also distinctly ill. His eyes are red, his nose is running, and his normally tanned skin tone is now an unhealthy grey.
Bruce frowns. “Are you sick?”
Tony scoffs like he’s about to give a snarky comment, but then he seems to think better of it. “Morphine withdrawal, to be precise,” he admits with a sigh.
Bruce blinks at him. “You - what?”
“Yeah, funny isn’t it? And people always thought the alcohol would be the drug that kills me…” He lets out a bitter laugh.
“Tony, this…How did this happen?” Bruce immediately feels guilt bubble up inside him. How did he not notice? The Hulk stirs in the back of his mind and Bruce takes a deep breath to calm himself down.
“I’ve gotten in a little too deep since… since I came back,” Tony replies hesitantly. “Had, ehm, couple of bad injuries. My sternum was cracked, and I needed shoulder surgery, among other things. And then… guess it was just convenient. Drowning out the pain.”
He doesn’t say what kind of pain he is talking about, but Bruce has an idea that it’s more than just the aftereffects of the injuries.
“You...You didn’t tell anyone.” It’s a statement, not an accusation. Bruce has been carrying secrets around with him for so long that he would never judge anyone else for doing the same.
Tony shrugs. “I told you now, didn’t I? Can’t see you walking around with this sad puppy face of yours. Plus, I hate lying.” He squints and starts massaging the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about the experiment. You can go ahead without me. Give me a few days and I’ll look at the data afterwards.”
“Tony, you could easily afford the best detox in the world. There are people who specialise in this - they could work out a treatment plan, maybe give you methadone…you don’t have to do this cold turkey.”
“Not all problems can be solved with money.”
“But this might just be one where money can help.”
“I don’t want anyone else involved.”
Tony’s voice is a bit louder now, almost angry, but there is something else in it - shame, a feeling Bruce has always thought alien to Tony. But then, this is not partying, not sex, not drunk-crashing a new suit into the Hudson. There’s nothing glamorous about addiction.
“What about Rhodey?” he asks softly.
Tony just shakes his head, guilt creeping up in his eyes.
“Okay.” Bruce takes a deep breath. “Then I’ll stay with you.”
“Go do your experiment, Bruce”, Tony dismisses. “You’re not the type for this. Leave me alone.”
Translation: I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want to be a burden.
“No, I mean it. I can…” Bruce tries to think of a way that won’t have Tony refuse immediately. “I would feel better if I could at least take care of the medical side of things.” He hesitates a beat. “I won’t hover, I promise. I just don’t want you to do this alone.”
Another shrug. “You really don’t have to. Not gonna be pretty.” Brown eyes glance up at Bruce. They’re full of distrust, a slew of broken promises - and a flicker of hope.
“It’s okay,” Bruce assures.“I...I want to.”
Tony’s eyes hold his for a minute. Then, slowly, he nods.
Bruce doesn’t have to ask Tony why he agrees. He knows it’s not that Tony trusts him more than others; he doesn’t trust anyone, really. It’s not that Bruce is closer to Tony than Rhodey is. No, he agrees because he knows that Bruce isn’t a threat to him. It’s the same reason he once opened up about his PTSD. Because Bruce doesn’t judge, and Bruce would never use his knowledge against him.
“Okay, then.” Bruce takes a deep breath, mentally preparing a list of what he is going to need. He is not stupid, withdrawal isn’t a pony ride, and this isn’t going to be easy for either of them.
“Let’s go.” Tony gets up from the barstool, stumbling only a little.
Bruce frowns. “Where?”
“The experiment? We’ve waited for weeks to get these readings. Now that you’ve figured out what’s going on, might as well get some work done.”
“Tony, are you sure?”
“I figure I’ve got half a day until the worst of it starts, so let’s get to work.” He flashes a familiar grin at Bruce, who follows with a sigh.
*
“Care for a nap?” Bruce asks hopefully.
It’s four in the morning and they have been working non-stop for hours. Tony is trying hard not to let his discomfort show, but he’s sniffling constantly, a slightly haunted look in his eyes, and even his right hand is trembling now. Bruce has been trying his best to act normal too, making sure that Tony stays hydrated and eats something in between, and he’s attempted more than once to get his friend to sleep.
But the engineer just shakes his head, not even looking up from the tablet in which he is modelling the element’s other isotopes. “Go ahead, Brucie. I, uhm” - He rubs his dripping nose with the back of his hand - “distraction is good.”
The cravings must be worse than he’s letting on.
When Bruce keeps staring at him worriedly, Tony swivels his chair around and gives him a stern look. “Bruce, you promised not to hover. I hate hovering. Go to sleep.”
Bruce obeys, but he doesn’t want to leave Tony completely alone, so he stretches out on the couch. It’s the same one they used to have in the tower, judging by the very familiar scorch burn on the upholstery. The low hum of the laboratory equipment in the background and the sound of Tony tapping on this tablet are surprisingly soothing. Despite the lingering sense of worry and guilt, Bruce falls asleep quickly.
*
When he wakes up late next morning, Tony is still working.
“Hey, groundhog.” Tony wheels his chair around and rolls towards Bruce with a smirk.
Bruce sits up, groaning at the pain in his back that definitely didn’t approve of the idea of sleeping on the couch. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and squints at Tony. “You didn’t...”
“Nah. I’m clean.” He looks worse, though. His brown eyes are slightly glassy, huge dark rings below them and a light flush to his cheeks.
“How are you feeling?” Bruce ventures.
Tony shrugs. “Been better, been worse.”
Bruce raises a hand to gauge his temperature, but Tony flinches away reflexively. That’s new - another souvenir from Siberia.
“Sorry.” Bruce drops his arm. “Are you running a temperature?”
“A little above a hundred,” Tony dismisses. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that could stem either from the fever or excitement. “Made a lot of progress on the Sakaarium while you were getting your beauty sleep. I’ll brew some coffee if you have a look at it.” He presses a tablet into Bruce’s hands.
Bruce sighs. “Tea, please.”
After studying the data (Tony wasn’t lying about making progress - Bruce doesn’t think anyone would be able to get this much done in a week even in full health), Bruce goes to take a shower and gather supplies that he has a feeling he is going to need later. By the time he’s done, it’s almost noon, so he cooks pasta for them - something easily digestible. Tony, now visibly less energetic than before, picks at the food with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
“Do you want to lie down?” Bruce asks after he’s made Tony finish a small plate.
Tony shakes his head, trembling a little. He gets up gingerly, as if his whole body is hurting. “Let’s just...let’s get rid of it all.”
“The drugs, you mean?”
“No, Clint’s secret stash of Skittles. Of course the drugs.” It’s the first time he’s mentioned Clint since Bruce came back. It must have been an accident, because Bruce can see emotions swirling in Tony’s eyes just before he turns abruptly and walks out.
Bruce sighs. Tony has always been a notoriously hard person to talk to about personal topics, but since whatever happened in Siberia, it’s almost impossible to get anything out of him besides the constant stream of (increasingly cynical) sarcastic comments, the occasional remark about Peter Parker, and a never-ending flow of tech ideas. Bruce tried to carefully ask about the rest of the team a few times, but only got rapid topic shifts in reply. He still hasn’t worked up the courage to mention Pepper.
“Bruce?” Tony calls from the hallway.
“Coming…”
*
It takes longer than Bruce would have thought to get rid of all the pill bottles.
He knew that the compound was large, but he never thought about the sheer number of bathroom cabinets and kitchen shelves it contains. He doesn’t ask how Tony managed to get his hands on so many rations of morphine. He doesn’t ask why Tony felt the need to spread out his supply throughout all of the rooms. He tries not to think about Tony alone in the compound, wandering empty halls and sleeping off his highs in his former friends’ beds.
By evening, Tony is visibly shaking and ghostly pale except for the fever-flush of his cheeks. Bruce doubts they’ll be able to finish their task before his condition deteriorates.
“Just how many are there?” Bruce frowns, finding another pill bottle in a drawer in Sam’s old bedroom and throwing it into the garbage bag.
“Honestly? I don't know,” Tony replies from the medbay next door where he is bending over the medicine cabinet. “I reorder them every week, so they just kinda keep piling up. Funny, isn't it?” His tone is light, slightly ironic, but when Bruce catches a look at his face through the glass door, all he can read is pure self-loathing.
“Let’s take a break,” Bruce decides. He gets up stiffly and starts walking towards the common kitchen. “Tony?” he calls when the other man doesn’t follow.
“Just...coming.” Tony's voice sounds strained. The next moment, there is an audible thump and the sound of breaking glass. “Ow.”
Concerned, Bruce hurries into the room and finds Tony on his butt, a growing puddle of disinfection liquid soaking his pants. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Just wanted to, uh, sit down for a moment.” Tony’s face is sweaty and his eyes a little unfocused.
“Let me clean this up.” Bruce goes to grab a rag from the kitchen and returns to try to control the damage.
“Have you -” Tony cuts himself off, swallowing thickly. A hint of green has crept up his cheeks. He’s starting to tremble harder under his oversized sweatshirt.
“I think we should move to the bathroom,” Bruce states as calmly as he can.
“Yeah,” Tony says, swallowing again. “Agreed.”
It takes half an hour of shallow breathing and spitting into the toilet accompanied by less and less convincing jokes until Tony actually brings something up, but then he doesn't stop for a long time. Being a doctor, Bruce has ample experience seeing people vomit. Still, he can’t help but feel a little queasy himself when he watches Tony bring up everything he’s eaten over the past day before descending into dry retches.
“You ever had a hangover that makes you feel like your stomach is literally trying to evacuate your body?” Tony pants, slumping onto the toilet seat after another round of dry heaves. “Because that’s what this feels like.”
He discarded his t-shirt long ago and his whole upper body is shiny with sweat. Bruce can still see some of the fading bruises from the fight. Tony’s chest is a whole maze of scars, some still fresh from the operations he must have undergone after returning from Siberia.
“You know I don’t drink.” Bruce cringes when another heave wracks through Tony’s body.
“Yes, Brucie, atta boy - how could I forget?” he says upon surfacing.
Even through the worst of the nausea, Tony is keeping up something resembling small talk, but it’s getting harder and harder for him to hide the pain and fatigue on his face.
Bruce puts a wet cloth on the ground next to him and Tony takes it gratefully, wiping the sweat off his forehead and pressing his face into the coolness.
“Here.” Bruce offers a cup of water.
“Noooo,” Tony whines. “What’s the point?”
“You're dehydrating fast. And I was told it hurts less if there's something in your stomach.”
“Blatant lies.” Tony drinks, his face contorting into a grimace. “God.” He bends over the toilet bowl, waiting for the inevitable.
Bruce carefully lays a hand on his back, rubbing up and down and checking the fever. Tony is definitely running warmer now.
His breath hitches. Then the few sips of water he managed to swallow splash back into the bowl.
*
When Tony is done puking for the time being, Bruce suggests they shift to the bedroom, but Tony insists on moving back to the lab. He settles on the same couch Bruce slept on the previous night, listlessly moving holograms to and fro in the air above him. Bruce isn’t exactly sure what he’s working on, but he suspects that not much progress is being made. Still, as long as distraction seems to help, he chooses not to say anything.
After a while, Tony gets up again and shuffles towards the bathroom.
“You’re gonna be sick again?” Bruce asks.
Tony just shakes his head with a scrunched expression, then locks the door behind him. Bruce sighs, guessing what’s going on, and decides not to disturb. Instead, he gets up to brew a special mint and ginger tea with a lot of sugar that he puts into the fridge for later use.
Tony returns after a while, his mouth a tight line, and refuses the saltines and water Bruce pushes towards him. He’s looking worse than just hours ago, as if he’s been ill with the flu for weeks. He drops onto the couch, picks up the tablet, and holds it up in front of his face. Bruce suspects that he closed his eyes, since he isn’t even scrolling.
After a while, a holo screen next to Tony lights up. “You have a voice message from Peter Parker, Boss,” FRIDAY informs him. Bruce blinks in surprise. It’s late evening already. But then, teenagers are not exactly known for their regular sleep schedules.
The warm feeling he got upon realising that FRIDAY is programmed to directly pass on Peter’s messages vanishes when Tony tells the A.I. to ignore it.
“Are you sure?” Bruce asks before he can stop himself.
“I’ve got stuff to do.”
“But Tony, what if something happened?”
“His A.I. would have alerted me. This is nothing important.”
“Don’t you think -”
“Geez, Bruce, give it a rest. You’re not my PA, okay?”
“I’m sorry, I just -”
“I knew this was a bad idea. You shouldn’t be here.” Tony runs his shaking hands through his hair, looking more pathetic than actually angry. “I, I need a break. I need a shower.”
He pushes himself to his feet with visible difficulty and stomps off towards the bathroom.
Bruce shakes his head in confusion. Peter seems to be one of the few good things that have happened during the time Bruce was gone. The doctor mostly keeps to himself these days, but he has met Peter once or twice during their lab afternoons and was touched by how awkwardly paternal Tony acts around him. Ignoring his messages doesn’t fit into that schema at all.
The message on the screen is still blinking. Bruce’s curiosity, fueled by a little bit of defiance, gets the upper hand. “FRIDAY, can you play the message to me?”
“Yes, Dr. Banner. You have full security clearance for it.”
“Hey, uhm, Mr. Stark, it’s Peter,” the teenager’s high-pitched voice issues from the speakers. “I’m, uh...I just wanted to apologise again for yesterday in case, uh, in case I said anything wrong? I know that you’re busy and it was probably really dumb of me to ask you, I am so sorry, I should have thought about that before. It’s really just a stupid school thing, and, uhm, I really get it you don’t have time for that. I was just thinking because May said it’s a good idea… and because you seemed a bit...down lately, so I thought I’d invite you. Anyway, I just, I’m sorry if I upset you. Just, uh, I hope that we can meet next week in the lab? I got an idea for the suit upgrade that you suggested, so… Okay, that’s it, I guess. Good night, and, uh, sorry again.”
“Tony, what did you do?” Bruce exhales, sitting down heavily on the chair. He’s starting to get a pretty good idea of what’s going on. Another point added to the long list of things Tony Stark won’t talk about.
His thoughts are interrupted when he hears retching from the bathroom.
“Tony?” Bruce knocks hesitantly. He knows that the whole Internet has seen Tony Stark nude, and Tony probably doesn’t care, but Bruce is uncomfortable with the thought of walking in on him after showering.
The only reply is a non-committal noise. Bruce carefully opens the door, his chest going tight with worry when he sees Tony curled up on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, dressed only in a silk bathrobe, his forehead pressed against the base of the cold bowl. His hair is still damp from washing. All residual anger in Bruce is replaced with worry.
“Hey, Tony,” he says softly.
“Hey yourself,” Tony croaks.
“Let’s move you to the bed, okay?”
“Hurts,” Tony mumbles, not responding to the question. “‘s like my skin’s coming off.”
Bruce winces in sympathy. “You’re gonna be alright. Can you sit up?”
“‘m pathetic. You don’t - you really don’t have to - “
“It’s okay. I’m here, Tony, alright?” He crouches down and slowly puts his arms under Tony’s elbows to prop him up, feeling the heat coming off him in waves. He has a suspicion that part of the withdrawal is actually alcohol-related, which would explain the intensity of his symptoms. Tony flinches at the touch and starts to shiver violently.
“I-I’m gonna -” He gulps. Bruce guides him over the toilet bowl and holds him upright when he heaves, bringing up acidic smelling bile.
“You’ll be okay,” Bruce murmurs.
Tony huffs and pushes himself upright with visible effort. He rinses his mouth while steadying himself on the washbasin, then shuffles to the elevator that leads to the bedroom. Bruce follows with a trash can, the tea, and a sinking feeling in his gut.
*
Throughout the night, Tony gets steadily worse.
He doesn’t fall asleep, unable to get comfortable enough to rest. Instead, he tosses and turns on the bed, kicking the sheets off his sweaty body just to pull them up again minutes later when the chills wrack through him. The little bit of ginger tea Bruce manages to make him drink comes back up every time in painful bouts of vomiting. At some point, Bruce turns on the TV in the hope to provide some distraction, but Tony doesn’t seem able to focus.
When the night bleeds into morning, Tony is an anxious mess, going from incoherent rambling to sudden silence. His fever is still rising. He’s been calling for Pepper intermittently, regarding Bruce with large, confused eyes each time before remembering where he is.
Finally, in the late morning, he falls into a fitful sleep, more out of sheer exhaustion than anything else. Bruce leaves him alone for a few minutes for a hasty breakfast of cold, leftover pasta and a much-needed change of clothes. By the time he returns, Tony is mumbling in his sleep, his face lined with agony, small tremors running through him as his hands seem to clutch the bedsheets for dear life.
Bruce settles in the armchair next to the bed and reaches for Tony’s fingers, holding them tight, trying to provide what little comfort he can.
*
Bruce must have dozed off against his will, because what wakes him up in the late afternoon is the sound of Tony screaming. It’s neither an angry shout nor a quiet whimper. It’s low and guttural, reminding him more of a wounded animal than anything human. He’s witnessed many of Tony’s nightmares over the years they’ve shared a lab, with Tony falling asleep on the workbench after hours of trying to power through the exhaustion, just to wake up with a gasp and wetness in his eyes. But Bruce has never heard anything like this.
“Hey,” he soothes, his voice still hoarse from sleep. He squats next to the bed and lightly pats his friend’s elbow. “Tony, wake up.”
Tony's eyes open, his gaze panicked. His arms fly up to his head in a defensive posture, as if shielding himself from an attack.
“Tony? It’s okay, you’re okay. We're here, at the compound. You’re safe.”
Tony takes in the room, slowly seeming to recognise Bruce, and lets his hands drop down. He’s breathing heavily and far too fast. He clutches his chest, fingers digging into the scar tissue where the arc reactor used to be.
“You’re okay. You’re sick, but you’re safe.” It’s all Bruce can think of to provide reassurance.
“Gimme - minute,” Tony rasps, looking on the verge of a panic attack.
“Okay. I’ll get you some water.” He stands up to give Tony some privacy.
When he comes back, Tony’s eyes are half-closed and his breathing has calmed down, but that’s about all there is for good news. The fever, if anything, seems worse than before, and the shaking hasn’t let up.
Bruce reaches for his wrist and checks his pulse. It’s slightly irregular and a little too quick. Heart palpitations are normal for people going through withdrawal, but with Tony’s history of cardiac issues, Bruce can’t help but worry. He pinches Tony’s skin and frowns when the white doesn’t fade as quickly as it should. He hopes they won’t need an IV, but dehydration is starting to become problematic.
Bruce has to raise the cup to Tony's mouth in order to make him drink while the man follows him sluggishly with eyes that seem almost delirious. His face is slick with sweat. Bruce wets another washcloth and lays it over Tony’s forehead.
“Cold...”Tony flinches away, seemingly from something else than just the physical pain. His hand wanders to his chest again, and Bruce thinks he can make out some newer scars across the old ones. Tony slurs something and Bruce catches Steve’s name.
“Steve’s not here, alright? It’s just us, Tony. Please, have a bit more water...”
Tony shakes his head, his expression conveying fear, sadness, and guilt.
What happened in Siberia, Tony? Bruce thinks. What did Steve do to you? What did you do to each other?
*
“...Bruce?”
The doctor hears the voice while he’s busy cleaning out the trash can in the bathroom from the last vomiting episode, but if he hadn't known it was Tony, he wouldn’t have recognised it. It’s weak and scared and nothing about it seems to belong to Iron Man. Bruce quickly rinses the can and steps back into the room.
“Hey, I'm here,” he reassures, trying to keep the tiredness from his tone. Tony is much, much worse off, but two days with hardly any sleep are starting to take their toll on Bruce as well.
Tony is sitting on the edge of the bed, his whole body swaying, his eyes large and wet. “B-Big guy?”
“Yeah, it's me.”
“For a minute, I thought…” Tony stares at him, blinks, shakes his head and sways dangerously. “Never mind.”
Bruce is there in two large strides, sitting down next to the other man and offering his shoulder for support. “It's me. It's really me, I'm real, I promise. Okay?”
“Yeah.” Tony slumps into him, burying his face in his shoulder. First Bruce thinks that it's sweat that's soaking his shirt, or that Tony had thrown up on him. But then he hears the sobs, quiet and terrified.
“Oh, Tony.” Ordinarily Bruce is not a fan of physical contact, but he’s never had such a strong urge to hug someone as he does now. He pulls the other man to his chest, holding him, shielding him. “It's okay, you're gonna be okay.”
“'s not about me,” Tony whispers. “Every life I touch just falls apart.”
“That's not...that's not true, Tony. You did so much for me.”
I hadn't had a home in decades when you took me in. I hadn’t had anyone who knows what I am look at me without fear before I met you. He thinks of ways to vocalise the feeling, but Tony goes on, speaking so quietly that Bruce can hardly hear him. “I let the kid down.”
“What happened?” Bruce asks softly.
“He... He had a thing, a competition, from his college. Wan’ed me to come to Washin’ton this weekend. But I...he can’t know. So I, I snapped at him. Was...yesterday, maybe… I dunno. I felt like my father. I spent my whole life tryin’ to be someone else, just to find that ‘m no different. No different at all. And I don’t wanna…” he sobs, chokes. “And then… I had to stop, Bruce.”
And suddenly, Bruce understands. “You’re not your father. You are better, Tony. You’re doing your best.”
Tony weeps silently, Bruce holding him, until night bleeds into day.
*
“It hurts.” Tony is slumped over the trashcan after the latest fruitless attempt at keeping Bruce’s iced tea down. His eyes are bloodshot, his face haggard and his whole frame trembling. A trickle of bile falls into the receptacle. Bruce rubs his back, wishing he could find a way to ease the nausea, to take the pain away.
“I need-” Tony abruptly sits up straight, swaying as he does so.
“Tony, it’s alright. Everything’s okay. Just, lie down, okay?”
“No, you, you don’t understand, it hurts...I need my meds.”
“You don’t need anything. It will get better, you hear me? It will get better, I promise.”
And suddenly Tony is shouting. “You’re lying! Fucking get out! I don’t need you! I need - I need Pepper - I need a fucking painkiller!” His voice is hoarse from all the vomiting, and the shout is more of a croak than anything else, but it still hits Bruce unexpectedly.
Tony tries to get his feet under him. Bruce pushes him back down without thinking, realising his mistake a split-second too late.
There is no recognition in his eyes when Tony lashes out, barely missing the doctor. He is much too weak to do any real damage, but the Hulk is immediately alert, always ready to protect Bruce.
Bruce grits his teeth as he tries to force him back into his mind with sheer determination. This can’t happen, not now, not with Tony sick as a dog and unable to protect himself. Bruce sinks onto the bed, his knees feeling weak. All he can think is that Tony was right, that it was wrong to call Bruce, wrong to trust Bruce, because he is a monster after all.
He can feel the Hulk roaring in the back of his head, and then he’s hit with memories from a long time ago. His father, the row of bottles on the ground next to the armchair he would occupy on the days he didn’t go to work. Bruce in the hallway, and then the angry eyes turning on him, then the belt, the hands, the fear. His logical brain knows that it’s nonsense, that Tony is not drunk, that his father’s been dead for years, but the flashback is so strong that it takes his breath away for a few moments.
He slowly counts to ten in an effort to calm himself, keeping his eyes closed and listening to his own breaths pounding in his ears.
When he feels safe to open his eyes, Tony is sitting on the ground below him, looking on the verge of passing out.
“Okay.” Bruce forces himself into a calm tone despite the emotions churning in his stomach. “Can you stand up if I help you?”
“I need...it really hurts, Bruce. I need a pill.”
“You can’t have any drugs. That’s why we’re doing this, Tony, remember? Remember Peter?”
There's pain in his eyes, then his body flattens, the energy bleeding out. Tony sways on the spot until Bruce kneels down next to him, wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into his chest.
“Sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tony mumbles.
“It's okay,” Bruce whispers, sadly. “It’s okay.”
He isn’t quite sure how he finds the strength, feeling dizzy himself from exhaustion and barely contained panic, but he manages to move Tony back to the bed. The other man isn’t unconscious, but he doesn’t seem very aware of his surroundings either. Bruce mechanically checks his temperature, blood pressure, and pulse, and finds all of them worrying.
He decides on an IV then, setting it up with calm hands despite his racing thoughts. It takes a while to find a good vein. Tony flinches a little when the needle pierces his skin, but otherwise doesn’t react.
Bruce sits down on the edge of the bed first, but then he shifts to the headrest and pulls his feet up on the mattress. He looks down at Tony, who has fallen into an unsettled sleep, looking ill, exhausted, and frighteningly old. There are traces of tears on his cheek. Bruce strokes them away, then moves his fingers up to Tony’s sweaty curls, smoothing them lightly, wishing he could give the man more comfort than that.
*
This time, Bruce wakes up from his own nightmare involving his father and the Hulk. He takes a moment to orient himself. He’s in Tony’s bed - must have fallen asleep in a sitting position and slowly slid down, judging from the pain in his neck.
Tony is asleep on the other side of the bed, curled into a fetal position. One of his hands is clutching Bruce’s shirt. He’s still pale as a ghost, the circles under his eyes so dark that they almost look like paint, but when Bruce reaches over to touch his forehead, he finds the fever has finally broken. He carefully uncurls Tony’s fingers and checks his pulse - a little weak, but thankfully regular.
After removing the IV, Bruce goes into the kitchen and starts to make tea for himself and a milkshake for Tony. He puts both drinks on a tray and returns to the bedroom, finding Tony awake and leaning heavily against the headrest, looking exhausted and thoughtful.
“Room service,” Bruce says in a sudden attempt to take over Tony’s role and lighten the mood.
“God, Bruce, you look terrible,” Tony observes, visibly guilty.
“You should see yourself,” Bruce comments. He sets the shake down on the bedside table.
“You didn't have to - we could have ordered -”
“It's okay. I wanted you to have something made with care on your first day.”
Tony takes the beverage with a frown. “What is it?”
“Vanilla milkshake. Easy to digest, and you need the energy.”
Tony takes a few sips, then, apparently realising how starved he is, finishes the glass. Bruce smiles and pours him another.
“That doesn’t work with my diet plan. Hope that FRIDAY approves of it.” He grins.
“Oh, I doubt she has any objections. You could use a few pounds, honestly.”
After four days of barely eating or drinking, Tony's cheek bones are more pronounced than ever, and his shirt traces the outline of his hollow stomach. But, looking back now, Bruce is sure that his clothes were hanging loosely even before the withdrawal.
“How’s the shake settling?” he asks, not keen on having to use the trash can again.
“Okay, I guess. I’m - Maybe I’m hungry? I’m not so sure anymore.”
“That’s good,” Bruce says with a measure of relief. “Maybe give it half an hour and then you can try some solid food? You can shower in the meantime, if you feel up to it.” He pauses before adding, “No offence, but you need it.”
Tony looks down at himself as if only now realising that he has a body. “Oh. Yeah.”
He unsteadily goes to take a shower while Bruce prepares a proper breakfast for both of them. Tony looks a little bit better by the time he steps into the kitchen, wearing athletic shorts and an old sweatshirt, his dark hair still wet. He all but inhales two cups of coffee and a slice of toast before leaning back in his chair, eyes half-closed.
“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks, putting more toast on a plate and setting it down in front of his friend.
“Sore. Shaky. But also almost human again,” Tony replies, opening one eye. “And like I might actually be able to sleep, and when I wake up, maybe I wouldn’t be weak as a kitten.”
“See, that’s a start.”
Tony squints at him, insecurity bleeding through his attitude. “I guess I owe you a thank you.”
“You don’t owe anything to anyone, Tony,” Bruce asserts.
The engineer snorts out a bitter laugh. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Bruce sighs, wishing for the day when Tony will stop feeling like he is indebted to the whole world. He doesn’t know what it will take, and he’s afraid to think about it because something tells him that Tony won’t ever stop before he breaks.
“And I…” Tony looks down for a moment. “I want to say thank you. You didn’t have to do it, and...I don’t really remember much of the last three days, but I know it can’t have been easy for you either.”
Bruce softens. “It’s okay, Tony. I’m glad I was there with you.”
“I don’t know how to make good on that.”
“If you want to do something, then call Peter Parker.” Tony’s jaw goes rigid and Bruce adds, “Not right now. Eat. Sleep. Try to establish something like a routine. But do call him eventually. Don’t let this chance slip away.” He pauses. “I’m- I'm proud of you, Tony. And Peter will be, too.”
“He can’t know. Ever. I’m serious, Bruce.”
There’s no sense in trying to tell Tony that there is no shame in addiction. He already knows that, in theory at least, but the standards he holds himself to have always been superhumanly high.
“Fine,” Bruce sighs. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. And you promise me that you’ll call the kid.”
There is something almost like insecurity in Tony’s eyes, something vulnerable, but he nods anyway. “Okay.”
Bruce weighs his thoughts and then decides to go a bit further.
“You...Your fever got pretty high, and you said some things. You mentioned Steve, and Siberia.” Tony sets up to speak, his expression defensive, and Bruce raises his hands. “Hear me out. I won’t force you to tell me anything about it. Ever. Just, you don’t have to keep it all inside. If you want to talk, I promise I won’t fall asleep this time. Consider it an offer.”
Tony looks at him, tired and a hundred years older than a few days ago, but there’s something like the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I...Not now. But someday, maybe.”
And that’s all Bruce needs to hear for now.
Tony almost nods off at the table while checking his email, so Bruce firmly takes the device out of his hand and ushers him back to bed. His heart goes warm when he notices that Tony has created a reminder on his tablet to call Peter later that afternoon.
After making sure that Tony is sound asleep, Bruce heads off to his own bedroom, swaying slightly himself from tiredness. Sunlight is flooding the compound. It’s still empty, but a different empty than it was the day when he arrived. It doesn’t feel like an ending anymore, but rather like it could be the beginning of something new.
All my fics
Taglist: @toomuchtoread33
#tony stark#bruce banner#peter parker#science bros#withdrawal#tw drug abues#tw morphine#tw addiction#sick tony stark#sick tony#sickfic#whump#tony!whump#bruce banner is a good bro#tony stark has a heart#and cares a lot about peter
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More of the raised-in-Figaro branch AU of the FFVI AU because it’s been stuck in my head for too long. Taking place during the World of Ruin along the Serpent’s Trench.
It had been a long and unchanging day, marked by endless chocobo strides and a slowly growing ache Cabanela pretended didn't exist. There shouldn't have been—there was still so much ground to cover— but there was a small note of bitter relief when they found a place to stop for the night. Tomorrow would be better and maybe they'd even start to see an end to the Serpent's Trench.
Cabanela started to swing off his chocobo when a sudden clenching pain shot through his leg. He was vaguely aware of a flurry of feathers and the next thing he knew he was staring at the darkening sky, trying to catch his breath while a throbbing knot settled into his thigh. He gripped it, teeth clenching, back aching at the impact. Everything ached which was decidedly wrong. That ride had been nothing just as the one before hadn’t been and the one before that.
He forced himself to sit in time for a shadow to fall over him. Jowd and he barely resisted shooting a glare at him. He shouldn't have seen that. No one should have seen that. It shouldn't have happened to be seen.
Wordlessly Jowd knelt beside him, moved his hand and placed his own on his thigh, fingers working into the spasming muscle.
"I'm fiiine," Cabanela grated out, voice hitching over the sudden whimper in his throat and his hand clenched into the dirt. He almost jerked away. He was better than that. But Jowd's hand did feel good, painful still, but the tension started to ease away and then slowly that pain with it, leaving only a dull soreness.
He caught hold of Jowd’s hand and held on for a moment before abruptly nudging it aside. "I'm fine," he said more steadily and started to push himself to his feet ignoring the hand Jowd offered. He could handle standing, thank you very much. And he was fine if he ignored the jelly sensation in his legs and feeling like he was back on the island all over again. He was fine if he took it slow and pretended every step toward the fire the professor set up didn't feel stiff as a board.
He was fine.
And he was fine that night, leaning against his chocobo, shifting restlessly, trying to find a position to alleviate the ache in his limbs and back and wishing he’d been able to maintain his watch as planned, but Cidgeon had woken in time for the second and ordered him to get some sleep and ignored his protests. He turned over, curling tighter; bird and blanket did little for the chill that settled into his bones and a listless cure spell only brought a brief moment of reprieve before it all crawled back.
“I could put you to sleep.”
Cabanela jerked and frowned up at Cidgeon now standing over him. “No.”
“You’ve hardly been sleeping.”
Trapped. Years lost to a void. The thought of anything approximating that twisted his stomach. No.
“At least drink this,” Cidgeon said, now crouching next to him and holding out a mug. “I couldn’t get much in Albrook or Tzen but it may help a bit.”
The tea was hot at least and that was something. Cabanela took a sip and froze as the familiar flavour washed over him, weaker than he remembered, yet known all the same. “This is…” Home…
“A blend I once learned from Tabatha, yeah.” Cidgeon said and stood. “Drink up and at least try to get some sleep.”
He drank as Cidgeon returned, and felt a different ache. They would find Figaro; there was no doubt about that. They would. For them…
Jowd stared into the darkness as his watch slowly passed. It should have been a night like any other and would have been if his gaze hadn't continually been drawn back to the dark shapes across the fire where Cabanela rested against his chocobo. His movement had caught his attention repeatedly, a shifting shape in the dark. One thing changing to another; he had never been his tormentor, but he wasn't exactly the man he grew up with either anymore.
He snorted quietly to himself. And whose fault was that? There Cabanela had come, triumphant in his rescue and ignorant of the five years gap between them and Jowd only saw his keeper and treated him as such. Captured and enslaved. Mistrusted and hated. Fallen and unconscious for a year. It was a wonder he came back at all.
He shifted again and Jowd resolutely looked away. He could go to him and say what exactly? What could he offer him but the void caught in his throat? So he remained watchful and in time Cabanela grew still as the darkness lightened to grey and then to the sunset tones they came to know well.
Cidgeon woke first and as they prepared a paltry breakfast Cabanela followed suit. Jowd found himself wishing he hadn't as he watched him sit up, corners of his mouth twitching with suppressed tension. It couldn't have been much more than an hour or two since he'd gone still and it showed in stiff movements and overly bright tones that grated on his ears.
"Mooornin' baby!"
As they prepared for the day Jowd realized he wasn't the only watching Cabanela. He caught Cidgeon staring several times with a deepening frown until he finally spoke up while Cabanela stood by his chocobo, head bowed and making an adjustment to the saddle. At least that's what Jowd thought he was doing. It was taking more time than expected.
"Enough," Cidgeon said. “We should take the day to rest.”
Cabanela whirled around and if he hadn’t caught himself on the saddle Jowd knew they’d be looking at a repeat of the previous night.
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“Something we should have done yesterday,” Cidgeon replied calmly. “You’re dead on your feet.”
“I can haaandle riding.”
“Yeah? You put that on display last night.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“One more day,” Jowd said with a shrug. “What difference does it make anymore?”
Cabanela stared at him and his voice was oddly flat. “If we’d taken one more day you’d be dead.”
He swayed and Jowd’s feet took over. He caught Cabanela’s shoulders and felt him shake under his hands; how did they—how did he not notice how bad he was getting?
“I can’t imagine anyone else would trap themselves under a collapsing building,” Jowd said lightly.
Cabanela scowled at him. “One of a kiiind, baby. But, we can’t waste more time.”
“Then ride with me.” It came out on an impulse. There wasn’t time to deny the thought, but in truth it wasn’t a bad idea if Cabanela was going to be stubborn about this. “We’ve done it before,” he added when Cabanela looked ready to throw up more protest.
For a moment something seemed to crack and put all the pain and exhaustion and… longing on display. Jowd felt caught, unable to bear this show of vulnerability but unable to look away. Cabanela averted his gaze first and spoke, words carefully measured.
“As you wish.”
Jowd grimaced. He could practically hear the unspoken “Your Highness” and he hadn’t heard those tones in years. He could hardly argue the point now though after convincing him to agree to at least this much. He made sure Cabanela was steady on his feet, a near thing, before bringing his chocobo over while Cidgeon turned away to his own chocobo with a muttered “fool”.
Cabanela gripped the saddle. He made a motion to pull himself up then stopped, teeth clenched. "I can't."
Jowd shook his head. And he was going to ride on his own? "I have you," he said in a low voice. Cabanela stiffened but said nothing as Jowd helped him up. He swung up behind him and tried not to think too deeply on the sudden surge of guilt as he put his arms around him to get a hold of the reins. Cabanela shouldn't have been able to get this bad. It was alien and all wrong.
They set off again, their chocobos' legs eating the barren ground. It was a sullen ride to match the bleak atmosphere. Cidgeon rode silently beside them. Cabanela was rigid and Jowd could practically feel the anger roiling off him. It was nothing like the times they'd shared out of want or out of necessity—such as when Cabanela's chocobo had grown mildly ill but they still wanted to go out into the desert, so Cabanela had grinned and hopped up onto Jowd's with a look that plainly asked him if he was coming. Those times felt like a dream long lost. Over the years sometimes he wondered if they happened at all. But now he was here; they were both here and despite everything one of them still held hope for finding the others, Alma, Kamila. Despite it all... and still, Jowd found nothing worth saying.
After a time—it was difficult to gauge how much; it felt like an eternity—Jowd felt some of Cabanela's tension fade as he slumped, his head dropping against Jowd's shoulder with a shiver. He spoke in a low voice, words almost slurring.
“Don’t…”
“Hm?”
“Don’t drop me…”
Jowd stared and took a slow breath as memories of the airship cracking apart around them surfaced. That was over and they three and Sissel at least survived it. He had fallen then; shouldn’t there have been something more he could have done?
Cabanela was here now and asleep; Jowd hoped for a good while. His arm slipped to dangle at his side. Jowd shifted his reins to one hand to lift it back and try to keep him in a more manageable lanky bundle. He left one arm around him, holding him closer. Only practical—Cabanela wouldn’t have the balance he’d have while awake. He wouldn’t fall. They rode on.
“Jowd,” Cabanela mumbled, shifting a bit but still clearly asleep. “Alma…”
Another slow breath over a sudden pang. Such soft tones. How did he ever let the Jester take his place? He didn’t deserve this; why didn’t Cabanela see that?
“Stubborn,” Jowd muttered and if he wasn’t entirely sure which of them he directed the comment at he let it go and fixed his gaze on the horizon.
There was a rocking sort of sensation and Cabanela felt warm. They could be pushing their luck and get another earful from Zeno about staying out too long, but they had left early and hadn’t been gone long; had he dozed off? Jowd wouldn’t let hear him the end of that and... And that wasn’t… right. His thoughts slowly caught up as he woke fully, and he stared at the cracked earth and brown tufts of grass passing below. Not desert, no. Of course not; they were travelling along the Serpent’s Trench and he… Ah. Now that he was awake he felt more sluggish than he was used to but the incessant pain had faded.
“How looong?”
Jowd’s voice was a low rumble behind him and for a moment he only wanted to sink back into his shoulder. “Several hours.”
He tried to straighten. Jowd’s arm wasn’t making it any easier to which he wasn’t entirely opposed. “Sorry baby, didn’t mean to leeeave so long,” he chirped more cheerfully than he felt. He shouldn’t have needed that at all. His body had given out on him again when he was supposed to be past that.
Jowd didn’t reply but he gave him a small squeeze. Cabanela sighed, his frustrations blowing into the wind. He still felt tired, but no worse than the usual, and otherwise all right now. Jowd was not only here, but present. That was a blessing he would whole-heartedly take and with any luck tonight would be their last night along the trench. He let himself lean on Jowd once more.
They rode on.
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Hi! I asked Phoenix (horsegirlharry) for fic recs about star trek tos and she sent me to you! I am a new fan and in desperate need for some good fics since I am having a hard time finding them. I would be very grateful if you could link me to some. Thank you in advance
Oh my goodness!!! Hello my friend! I’m honored Phoenix directed you to me, I really am! To tell you the truth, they’re the one that actually convinced me to watch TOS from the start. Welcome to the fandom!!
To start off with, here is a lovely rec blog that is exclusively TOS (that I’m a mod on, so I am of course biased, but I loved the blog even before I was added, haha!) It’s not updated that often at the moment, usually just when I have some spare time, but there’s a lot of recs already added to look through, and there are plenty of tags to maybe let you look for tropes or genres that you like. :)
Alright, here go the recs!
Sha Ka Ree The year is 2258. Jim Kirk is a Lieutenant on the U.S.S. Farragut, Spock the science officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise. When the ships come together for a priority landing party, these two strangers find themselves fighting against the odds for a chance at life in an alien world, and the only way they’ll make it through is by relying on each other. This is a TOS fic that takes place seven years before the show begins. It’s one of my favorite fics ever, it’s beautiful and just perfect. It’s a lovely slow burn, and it contains one of my fave tropes: Jim (Kirk) and Spock crash on an alien world and get stranded there. So, so highly recommended! Honestly, that writer is amazing and anything by them I recommend.
Crash and Burn As the Enterprise’s celebrated voyage winds down, the tension between her captain and first officer escalates, and three days aboard Jupiter’s premier lunar station will change everything. Jim doesn’t handle change very well. Slow-build, character-study prelude to the Lost Years and TMP. Unhappy ending, but canon functions as a fix-it! As the summary states, this fic doesn’t end happily. But it’s basically an explanation as to why Spock does what he does prior to The Motion Picture (I’m not sure if you’ve seen the movies so I won’t clarify just in case you haven’t, haha!), which also means there is a happy ending after the events of the movies. I had it in my bookmarks under the tag I use for fics that hurt me (literally ‘ow’, lol) so apparently I found it pretty painful. ;__;
The Squire of Eros An old nemesis pays a social call to the Enterprise just in time for the annual Valentine’s Day party. On this occasion it’s Spock who draws the brunt force of his irritating personality. But when his holiday-inspired antics turn dangerous, it’s up to the Captain and crew to take him down, and Jim is forced to confront his long-evaded desires regarding his first officer. Written for the K/S Valentine Challenge at LJ, beta’d by purple_spock. This one isn’t even remotely as serious as the other two. It’s honestly just a lot of humor and lightheartedness for the most part. It features Trelane from TOS paying another visit to the crew. :D
Definitions “We call it t'hy'la,” Spock says. This one is so beautiful. It’s a relatively short oneshot (under 10k) but it’s so romantic and in character and just perfect (this author is another one of my favorites, I would read anything at all by them.)
Pattern Deviations A mind meld is the most intimate of any possible connection – to know and be known, wholly and completely. Usually, melds are advocated for leading to increased understanding and empathy. Spock wonders what it means, then, that everyone he melds with is so repulsed by his mind… Until he meets James Kirk, anyway. This is by the same writer as Definitions; another lovely oneshot by them. I love it!
And I Am Also Quite Blind In the aftermath of Spock’s blinding in Operation Annihilate, Jim tries to help him through his pain. A fic with premise that Spock doesn’t handily recover from his blindness in Operation Annihilate. Lengthy, painful, excellent. I try to avoid WIPs because I can’t deal with the pain of fics that are NEVER FINISHED, but I started reading this one when it was only halfway through and man, it sucked me in. Worth it! (And it has been completed now, so no worries, haha.)
Undone During first contact with the highly telepathic Nghians, an invasion begins on their home world. A powerful psychic attack cripples the populace–and Spock.Out of contact with the Enterprise and stranded on a planet at war, Jim must struggle to keep himself and his violent, unpredictable first officer alive. Another of my favorite writers! I love this fic. Lengthy, excellent, and that favorite trope of mine again (being stranded, heh), this is great. Please note the tags, though!
What I Am To You I say, “Ask me anything, Spock,” for perhaps the fifth time.This time, you respond, your gaze bright and penetrating, “Perhaps you could satisfy my curiosity in–one particular.”“Of course,” I say enthusiastically.You seem perfectly calm as you ask, “How long have we been lovers?” And I am certain I have heard you correctly, even as I struggle not to allow my astonishment to show on my face. Takes place after the events of the third movie. Spock tries to make sense of his and Jim’s relationship.
Spice It’s a question of biology. Vulcan biology.The problem with falling in love with a member of an insanely private species is that it just might take you the best part of a five year mission to work out that the feelings are requited. And then you might discover that he’s already decided that the two of you can never be together.And what are you supposed to do if he won’t tell you why? Honestly, I’m reccing this one with…some trepidation. I never did decide whether I actually liked the fic or not, but I know a lot of people do like it. It’s most definitely one of the longest fics I’ve ever read in this fandom. It’s the SLOWEST OF ALL SLOW BURNS, which you said you liked, and even though it made me SO ANGRY at one point that I almost threw my phone across the room when one plot twist happened, it’s well written and in character. The reason behind it all is…kind of silly, in all honesty, but it makes complete sense why Spock thinks it would be best if Jim wasn’t with him, just like him to be so overprotective. *sigh* I’d say definitely give it a try and see if you get sucked in!
Translating Ennoia Spock intends to resign his commission with Starfleet six months into the Enterprise’s mission. Then he meets Captain Kirk – his t'hy'la – and everything becomes infinitely more complex. This author again! This fic has lots of pining. I love pining. And I love happy endings and romance and watching Jim and Spock’s friendship develop, too, and this fic has all of that.
Dirty Laundry Jim keeps leaving dirty dishes in the sink and toast crumbs in the bed. Spock deals with the mess silently until an unfortunate ironing incident puts it all in perspective. Jim and Spock have to adjust to domestic life. Spock has to adjust to Jim’s messiness. Domestic Spirk is always wonderful, and I enjoy that in this one it’s not all perfect at first. They have to adjust and learn to actually live together.
Breaking Tradition Newlyweds James T. Kirk and Spock spend their Holiday shore leave alone together in a remote cabin once belonging to Jim’s grandparents. They learn more about each other and Jim introduces his new husband to the Winter Holiday traditions - even if he doesn’t quite understand why he take part in them himself. An unexpected event occurs that disrupts the couple’s newlywed bliss. Luckily, one of them has experience with taking charge of a situation. This one is sooo sweet. Jim just wants to share Christmas with Spock, but they have a mishap. But it’s okay, because Jim takes good care of Spock. (Features cold!Spock, one of my favorite things. :3 )
Ghost in the Machine Tom Paris stumbles upon a Pandora’s Box of loss and regret. This fic is the outlier in this list; it’s actually a crossover of sorts between TOS and VOY. I’ve not actually watched Voyager yet, but that doesn’t stop me from reading and enjoying the fic, so please don’t let that stop you! Let me tell you, though, this has to be one of the most painful fics I’ve ever read. It just makes me cry for Jim and Spock both. It’s so painful. But also really great. But I totally understand if you don’t want to read this one, haha! It’s not for everyone. It messed me up though, I kept thinking about it for days. Especially Jim as he is in this fic. Ugh.
Home Renovation Shortly before his first mission to Romulus, Spock buys a fixer-upper house with Jim. Although Jim is excited to begin renovating their new home, Spock worries it’s only a matter of time before his husband falls off a ladder and breaks his spine. Not to mention, the house’s derelict state is preventing Spock from enjoying his remaining time with Jim. Old Married Spirk, protective!Spock, perfection.
To Be Wed “With a human ruling alongside King Sarek, it makes sense that they would want a Vulcan to rule alongside you. Look on the bright side. At least it’s not Sybok."Prince S'chn T'gai Spock and Crown Prince Sam Kirk are pushed by their families into an awkward courtship, sure to become an awkward marriage. Meanwhile, the younger Terran prince just wants to make sure his future brother-in-law feels comfortable in his new home. But unfortunately for Jim, the road to hopeless, unrequited love is paved with good intentions. It’s an AU, obviously, and it’s by the same author as Sha Ka Ree (who as I mentioned is one of my favorite writers) and I just adore this fic, it’s so great! Pining, slowly getting to watch Jim and Spock falling in love even when it’s ill advised, Sybok!! I’m also just a total sucker for royalty AUs so that helps.
In My Own Skin After the events of Turnabout Intruder, Jim is trapped in Janice Lester’s body indefinitely and has to learn to carry on with his normal life and duties trapped in this body. Established relationship with Spock, but things become understandably difficult as a result of Jim’s situation. Complicating matters even further, the Enterprise is assigned to a difficult diplomatic mission with a new member of the Federation. I don’t know about everyone else, but my brain definitely went “what if Jim was stuck in that body…” after watching Turnabout Intruder, and this fic definitely satisfied that urge to see that explored.
Heat Trapped together in a cave until the storm ceases, Jim and Spock find some freedom outside the press of the ship and its responsibilities. Oh look….this writer again. :DDD You’re starting to notice a pattern here, I’m sure. This was written because of a prompt I gave, so obviously I’m a little biased, but it’s just SO perfect??? Cold!Spock, cuddling for warmth (another of my favorites, hello), and just so ROMANTIC that I almost can’t handle it.
Okay, those are all TOS, but now I have just a handful of AOS AUs:
Still, Like Dust Vulcans have been enslaved on Earth for more than fifty years. To Jim Kirk, 14, this is just one more chapter from his history book… until his uncle brings home a Vulcan boy to help on the farm. I know this fic isn’t for everyone, it definitely isn’t, but it really is a great read and I enjoyed reading it a lot. There’s a lot of pain, it’s true, but there’s also a happy ending, if that helps.
Inside The River Starfleet sends Jim a spouse and an oddly vacant honeymoon. Arranged marriage!AU, always fun, and an interesting mystery going on throughout. Great read!
That’s all I’ve got for you for now, this should be a start! Welcome again to the fandom, and I hope you find something in this list that you enjoy. :)
#slumber--parties#fic rec#space husbands#tos#and like two aos but i wont tag that lol#can't remember which tag i use for that...#long post#this got long sorry
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Dear Yuletide Author
Hi! Thanks for signing up for Yuletide despite the hell year it’s been, I hope you have fun with your assignment!
I ramble a lot so everything is below the cut. Obviously you don’t have to follow any of this (though I hope you’ll respect my squicks) but hopefully this will help you out!
general things i like
so much pining. all the pining. pining everywhere plz.
continuing from above, PINING. i mean it. i prefer a thousand times over idiots in love who are having a hard time wrapping their minds around it than an already established relationship.
either gen or romantic is fine! what really does it for me is the development of the relationship, platonic or otherwise. it’s all about the growing intimacy and understanding and character dynamics and interactions and developing trust and finding kinship and growing respect for the other and subconsciously learning to lean on the other over anyone else and--
i love love love enemies-to-reluctant-allies-(to-maybe-friends?)-to-lovers and bickering pairs in general! it’s so much fun and it gives us so many opportunities for character and relationship developments okay i’m a slut for that shit
sticking to the original characterizations and the tone of canon is a definite plus!!!
“missing scenes” and “what if” canon-divergent situations are excellent, as are continuations from where canon left us depending on the fandom! more details on the sections for the respective fandoms i GUESS
casual intimacy is super fun, especially when adapted to the character dynamics. a bickering pair being casually comfortable adds a whole new depth to it, enemy dynamics makes is hilarious since the other half would have zero clue as to how to react, a pair that is already comfortable with each other that they do stuff without communicating is so intimate, mix and match however you like!
fun tropes i enjoy (a bit romance-leaning but if you’re not into that then some of these can probably be adapted): fake dating, accidentally got roped into x and shenanigans of all sorts keep happening, misunderstood confessions, groundhog day au, one or both the characters having stupid levels of denial while technically in a relationship and just not realizing it like What Do You Mean We’re Dating??, that sorta thing.
TROPE SUBVERSION ALL THE WAY!
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general things i dislike
kidfics. babyfics. next gen fics. pregnancy fics, or even pregnancy discussed in the fic is a major squick of mine. the one exception i make for kidfics is for kids already existent in canon and even then it depends, but no babies or children otherwise please.
future fics/time skips in general, actually. what i enjoy is the relationship development, so huge time skips make me feel like we missed way too much
angst is... mrrmf. it really depends on how it’s done, but usually it feels like it’s angst for the sake of angst instead of giving the fic some actual meat. as a result of this, i’d pass at least on most content with major character death, sexual abuse, self-harm, gender/sexuality angst, the like. beyond that, feel free to go ahead!
hard AUs are a bit ugh to me. by this i mean AUs that rely heavily on setting, such as high school AUs, harry potter AUs, that sort of thing. i DO however enjoy stuff like soulmate AUs and alternate canon AUs, depending on the concept and on the fandom. more details in their own sections if you enjoy writing those!
i heavily dislike things involving cheating/infidelity, sickfics, and genderbending of any kind is a bit ehhhh for me, as are concepts such as ABO. hard pass on stuff like dysphoria and deep diving into mental illnesses and disorders, too.
script-based or roleplay fic is not really my preferred format, i really enjoy prose instead of nearly all dialogue!
stuff with bigotry in general, racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, etc as well as discussions of it is a pass in general. it’s not a HUGE squick but i’d rather not see it if possible
discussions and thoughts on gender/sexuality. if you’re gonna make them gay/bi/etc, make them gay/bi/etc, no exploration of it added. delving into the psyche of it is a hard pass.
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if you’re going for nsfw
kinks
moderate sadomasochism, uncommon forms of bondage (plants, stuck with strange substance or in awkward position, the shadows from p&tf as restraints, etc), choking/breathplay, xenophilia and tentacles/alien genitals (shadowplay in p&tf for example), moderate degradation, edging/desperation play, ladies topping and calling the shots, bloodplay/knifeplay, long hair dragging over skin, sharp nails/claws (charlotte la bouff, morticia), lowkey cannibalism imagery and hunger, biting, ladies stepping on body parts with their heels on
squicks
scat, vomit, praise kink, daddy/mommy or baby kink, vore, forced feminization, pet play, wound-fucking, abuse, abo, anything involving pregnancy at all
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PRINCESS AND THE FROG
i am 100% aware this is a weird-ass pairing but gods, the possibilities. it has so much potential. there are few things i like quite as much as a villain and a good person developing a strange sort of kinship with each other >u> this doesn’t have to mean a romantic development, if it’s not your thing! as i said, for me it’s the building understanding and reluctant respect that i really love, far more than the actual romance.
ideas, ideas, ideas. i’m aware this is a rare relationship to either portray or ask for, so i’m gonna try to give some more concrete-ish ones for you to build up on if you have no clue as to how to approach this.
we could have canonverse with charlotte dealing with the shadowman in some other, unrelated matter while the main plot is occurring, making him feel somewhat guilty about the whole marriage plot with laurence-turned-naveen. cue introspection, or even an entirely different outcome.
or a post-canon sort of hades&persephone plot (please no actual hades and persephone au though), with charlotte curious despite herself and tempted to listen to a shadow/dead/whatever!dr facilier when she’s the only one that can hear him.
in a continuation from above, OR her being dragged Beneath with him in a freak accident and then charming him into helping her back to the surface/living world (very, veeeeery reluctantly on his part, at least at the start, he might have even be thinking of tricking her but then change his mind when the time comes to do it).
i think dr facilier wouldn’t be sure how to deal with charlotte’s particular brand of personality and good humour, and it’d throw him off his rhythm a lot - that sort of thing is always super fun to write.
soulmate au in canon would work pretty well, but with this pairing? you could even do a FULL AU, keeping only basic stuff like the shadowman thing to her normal bougie self; it’s one of her charms. (and their personalities, of course). stuff like charlotte thinking that she wants one thing (her prince-slash-one-true-love, etc) while keeping getting drawn to him time and time again could work on pretty much any era or setting. vice-versa for him, thinking he wants to be rid of her but coming to realize he’d actually miss her if she were to be gone. OR, charlotte deciding she wants this sullen manipulative bastard and manipulating HIM into taking her out and hanging out with her would be hilarious.
if you wanna do nsfw, i have only one major request: charlotte calling the shots/topping. i think this arrangement would be in character for both of them (dr facilier would prob also enjoy having someone else do all the work lol) considering her go-getter attitude, but keeping in mind his manipulative personality i’d be more comfortable if she had some control over what was happening. ASIDE FROM THAT, d’you know what would be fun? a little darkness, and by that i mean consider dr facilier’s shadow joining in on the fun. shadows would also be an interesting sort of constraint. also i know i said charlotte calling the shots, but she can be constrained by the shadows while being amused by it or being used to it (implying it’s not the first time that they’ve used it in bed play and that it’s therefore negotiated), or charlotte could team up with the shadow to do it to facilier instead. charlotte using her nails and facilier being a bit of a sub/masochist would be excellent!
(actually in general it’d be really fun if there was some complicity between charlotte and facilier’s shadow in general, nsfw or otherwise. the shadow being wrapped around her little finger is an excellent concept, especially if facilier isn’t too fond of her just yet OwO)
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THE ADDAMS FAMILY
oh boy. let me just begin by saying that this really isn’t my usual kind of pairing, by sheer virtue of them being perfectly happy and established in canon. HOWEVER, they’re goth and they’re odd and they’re kinky and they’re delightful to watch interact (i’m familiar with the movie canon featuring anjelica and raúl and a few (few!) of the comics, so idk about other dynamics) and so they’ve managed to creep their way into my blackened little heart.
THAT BEING SAID, my absolute biggest wish for this fandom would be pre-relationship. i don’t mind if canon is twisted a bit for this, considering that they presumably met and proposed on the very same day, so it’s definitely a bit hard to work with. perhaps some shenanigans with the funeral itself? or gomez has a date/fiancée already and so there’s some juggling of priorities here while he’s absolutely falling over himself in order to continue looking at that gothic vision of a woman? or an old family feud, or them just being downright useless at knowing how to deal with proper romance (on morticia’s side, i’d imagine she’d only grow more stoic and be at a loss of what to say. on gomez’s side, it’s probably his first time being speechless, or he’s not speechless but he’s flirted so much in his life that he doesn’t know what to do with these actual literal feelings, what the hell is this and how does he show he actually means it this time??), or morticia has a long string of dead fiancés black widow-style (i think she and debbie would have gotten along great if given the chance okay), or a soulmate au where they don’t realize it’s each other right away, or morticia amusedly pretends to be dating gomez before they know each other to get him out of a bind, or they’re somehow roped into someone else’s shenanigans and don’t know how to react to each other (my money is on either ophelia or cousin itt putting them in a bind), the sky is the limit!
if you’re more comfortable writing established, however, casual intimacy or smut are the best! give me a moment of respite where they are just comfortable basking in each other’s presence, or when they’re separated for a moment at an event or something and the longing is burning all the way across them until they come back together again (y’know, in the good old way of the script). for smut, morticia being a mostly stoic dom maybe? (though yes, i know she’s very much into being tied up and tortured, i can’t really see her as a normal sub unless it’s really something languid and drawn-out - she doesn’t really read as someone who spends a lot of energy doing things others will do for her). they’re both definitely into pain and bondage too; morticia conflating arousal with hunger would also be really interesting to see (think praying mantis or lady spider who is actually very invested on not taking off her partner’s head, but who dreams of it all the same. gomez is, of course, very much into it). something lowkey macabre would be amazing.
things i’d like to see for this fandom in general are:
morticia being her stoic vampiric goddess of a self
gomez being completely twitterpatted for her as usual
burning sultry glares/staring across the room
overly passionate hand-kissing
creepy/gothic atmosphere
you know, like canon. (with non-existent or minimal kid existence, though)
references to horror stuff/general creepiness like sudden lightning, casual poisonings and dealings with death, dracula references, etc, like the movies would be super fun, as campy as possible! half the greatness of the movies come from these imho
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MONSTROUS REGIMENT
i have a confession to make: it’s been a while since i last read it, and so i fear i won’t be as helpful in giving ideas/dynamics for this fandom as i was in the others.
i have one request - apart from what i’ve already rambled on about above - and that is for at least polly to be portrayed as female (or close enough, although not quite non-binary). to make it clearer: i usually see them both as female, even if not female-presenting (it’s funny because as i was writing this i actually kept writing about maladict as “he” so frankly it’s whatever, i definitely prefer “maladict” to “maladicta” at least in terms of names though) but chaffing to fit the roles that “female” comes along with, especially with maladict and the expectations for female vampires. i’d rather the fic not have gender or sexuality exploration, since like i said above i think it detracts from the meat of the stuff - if you want to see maladict as male, write him male with male pronouns (keeping the female vampire backstory if you’re keeping it canon, otherwise it wouldn’t really make sense). if you want to make her female, write her female with female pronouns. i’d pass on they/them pronouns though. i don’t particularly care either way outside of polly however, just don’t delve into the psyche/introspection of it please.
if you have different views on their genders and it would make you uncomfortable to write female polly or non-they/them maladict, then that’s fine with me as well! these are just my preferences, and i thought i’d elaborate on them since the fandom has many perspectives on this topic.
with that out of the way, on to more interesting stuff!
what’s good: their interactions. oh dear loki, their interactions. they have my favourite dynamic in the whole book, and they’re weirdly comfortable with each other (especially since polly lowkey threatens maladict after kicking the other dude in the nads, in my view that moment probably got his undead little heart skipping a beat (do vampires have beating hearts on discworld? i haven’t read enough discworld to remember this)) and they understand each other the best out of the rest of the squad. maladict teasing polly and pretending to be cool before polly catches on to him is absolutely hilarious, and i absolutely love maladict trying (and failing!! horribly!!) at being smooth. also polly blackmailing people left and right is absolutely fantastic.
as you can probably guess, i’d love some canon-verse interactions. perhaps alternate scenes or what-ifs of canon events, or even extra scenes during the ongoing plot of the book. OR, post-book, once they have their own squad of little lads and have to figure out how the hell to handle that, or shenanigans where they have some sort of mission or official event elsewhere and resolutely stick together because “if i have to deal with this then so do you”. or some hilarity with maladict desperately going after every coffee grain available so he doesn’t just bury his face on polly’s neck because she smells so good but that would be an awkward conversation to have and he’d rather die (again) than admit to that.
what else? AUs! feel free to completely tear apart the canon discworld, though i’d request polly remain her ass-kicking clever self and maladict an awkward vampire. maybe maladict has to deal with diaphanous underwired nightgowns. maybe polly has to deal with diaphanous underwired nightgowns. vampire politics? satirical awkward dracula au? maladict failing horribly at being a vampire (failing at being a female vampire or trying to pass at being a male vampire and failing at that, too)? they’re all great!
what matters to me is their banter and the way they keep falling into pace with each other, regardless of the way they begin. a good dose of sardonical pratchett-style humour would also be welcome ;)
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thank you so much for staying with me this far! i hope you have a grand time this yuletide, and that you enjoy your own requested fic as well!
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Sci-fi/Dystopian future/Danger Days/idk
Heaven’s Not About Your Reputation - Desolation Row AU. The Tipper Laws have consumed the nation; more and more freedoms are being restricted every day. After getting thrown in jail for causing a riot with their illegal punk show, My Chem decides to do the logical thing: cause even more trouble. 28k
In Repair - "Shit,“ Frank mutters, and shoves both hands through his hair. He looks around the kitchen like he’s gonna find what he should do scratched into the old linoleum, then looks back at the bot. He gnaws on his lip. Fuck it. He already knows what he’s gonna do. He’s just gotta do it.
Getting down on his knees, he braces a hand on the edge of the crate and leans over the bot. It’s dressed in a plain white tee and matching drawstring pants like an escaped mental patient. Frank rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles, shaking the ache out of them before carefully laying his palm against its cheek. He’s pretty sure his voice is steady when he says, "Activate.”
Nothing happens. Fucking shitty packaging– the thing’s busted. But Frank keeps his hand where it is, jumping a little when he feels the surge of energy beneath it. The robot’s skin goes from room temperature to lukewarm, then warm. Frank watches it open its eyes, the light behind them adjusting until they’re a pale sort of brown. It looks at him and asks, “Am I dead?” 33k
sing it for the n00bs - Gerard would be killing twice as many dracs right now if his fucking spacebar would quit sticking. (Gamer AU, wherein the Danger Days universe is an MMORPG.) 17k
I was rereading this on a bus in France with my stepsister. She asked me what I was reading and I just squirmed around in my seat. So she shouted “FANFICTION??” And I was like … Well, I mean, yes–but hear me out!! And so I told her about Danger Days, the Killjoys and the whole gamer au concept.
She actually thought it sounded pretty cool. Or maybe she just wanted me to quit gushing about it and leave her alone.
The point is, if someone who just heard a second-rate description of this fic still thought it sounded interesting, that means it’s HELLA RAD. And it is. So. Read it.
The Way They Fly - Frank is a robot. He is in love with his genius creator, Gerard, who doesn’t realize that Frank is capable of real feelings. Frank starts breaking down, getting ill, and Gerard doesn’t know what to do to fix it - all his methods are completely useless, none of the programming explains why this is happening to his Frank - but it’s because Frank has a broken heart. 17k
Of Another Kind - Gerard is an alien on a mission–to find a human mate on Earth. He’s decided on Frank Iero, but his database doesn’t give him all the facts he needs to win over his future companion, and there are just some things he will have to learn on his own. 17k
Let The Darkness Lead You Home - Vampires are in charge and most of the humans on earth are prey, so Frank Iero’s parents have him train as a cyber tech to protect him. Leaving the family he’s born into may have saved his life, but his parents never could have expected the lengths he’d go to in order to find a new family to call home. 49k
The Chasing of Moons - The biggest dilemma in all of this is that Frank slept with his future husband. Now Frank’s just got to make sure that the future with him stays intact, but it’s not so easy when present day Gerard seems to hate his guts. 110k
Might I Have a Bit of Earth - Gerard took things. He didn’t used to take things; he used to ask before, say please and may I and other things his parents taught him, because that was what you did. You didn’t just take. 14k
Space pirates :D !!
Are You Broken? (from the Robot!Gerard series) - Frank gets sick and Gerard doesn’t understand. <1k (the series is 7k)
Lovely Way to Burn - Frank is no stranger to sickness. He’s been wheezing his way in and out of hospitals since he was a kid, but things are different now. He was already pulled from two assignments due to illness, and the third time is the charm. Three strikes and you’re out. 4k
video girl - This is a space AU that has more random worldbuilding than actual porn in it. In which Frank wanders into a virtual sex video booth. 1k
Reaching Through The Mirror - The one where Party Poison and Basement!Gerard have sex. 5k
(part one of Time Travel ‘verse)
James Cameron Got It Wrong - In which 2005!Frank and Fun Ghoul get it on. Then Frank accidentally winds up in 2019. 56k
(part two of Time Travel ‘verse)
yoooo i just found some really really REALLY good fanart. .. unbelievably good. and six years after the fic came out! that’s amazing!! anyway, here it is.
EDIT #2: found some more! Man, that fic just keeps giving.
EDIT #3: Damn it, the artist’s blog (second one) is marked as having “sensitive content”, so I couldn’t view it anymore on this account. So here is the post reblogged on a sfw blog for y’all youngins, and here is a screenshot juuust in case the sfw blog deactivates and that link stops working, too.
The Science of Sleep - It’s 2011 and Frank Iero’s life is pretty average until the night where he starts getting dreams about a strange, apocalyptic California where there’s rayguns, grey corporations and terrorists who use art and color as a weapon. Interesting and fun at first, but the more he dreams about this world, the more he starts to wonder if it really is a dream… and the deeper he gets into this futuristic world, the more it seems to affect his life in the present day.
And just how exactly does everything all seem to link in with that douchebag black-haired artist who sits in Starbucks every day?
(Set in the Danger Days world but not necessarily following the cannon established by the album and music video’s.) 93k
Killjoys Never Die - No description. 2k
i want to die i want to die i want to die
Up Against Your Will (HERE is the chapter index) - Stepping into a world so different from their own, Frank and Gerard struggle to survive. 18 chapters
this was amazing, but also hard to read in some parts, bc of the non con and gore :/ not my cup of tea, but I did love the word building and the fic overall.
Fogs, Sheets and Thunder - Not as grey as it seems. A post-apocalyptic postal service AU. 5k
And ze art!
The World Famous Extraterrestial Diner - Sure the menu had a picture of literally everything in it, causing the menu itself to be ten pages in total, but that was for the foreign visitors. And not just the ones from other countries, according to the owners.Gerard worked at a diner located directly on the famous ‘extraterrestrial highway’. The pictures were more for if any actual aliens ever came by Earth for a good meal and couldn’t speak English. They had the pictures to see exactly what was on offer. Even the beverages had their own separate pictures.Not that they had had any extraterrestial visitors since, like, ever. 8k
Born to Motorbabies - Here's the thing with having a crush on a mysterious DJ; it's kind of an inconvenient place to hang your affections. 12k
The person who’s rec list i snagged this from (can’t remember who, sorry!) added “affectionately referred to as the dishwasher fic” which is v cute so I’m putting it here too.
...the weapon - Tattoos are one of the ways they measure out the time between getting ghosted. Inspired by Art is... 0.2k
Code Red - In the fall out of a fire fight, Party Poison goes looking for medicine, and finds pretty much the exact opposite of that. 2k
Ship: Party Poison/Korse
Workplace Appropriate Attire - Korse is a creepy boyfriend. 1k
Ship: Party Poison/Korse
This was fun to read, but some lines made me go OH SHIT, because ...... well if you read this you will know what I’m talking about.
We Got Machines - There are questions on the lips of everyone with eyes or money on the arena. Who is this kid? Where’d he come from? Who trained him? BLind’s got no records on him, meaning he’s a Zonebrat returning to the grasp of the city of his own volition. Another anomaly. That a 16 year old nobody could waltz in out of nowhere and turn the system on its head is... concerning to BLind. <1k
Part 1 of KJ/Griefers 'verse (3.5k in total)
Ship: Deadmau5/G3rard
xoxoxoxo - Party Poison wakes up somewhere he's never been - but there's plenty that's familiar here. 1k
Ship: Party Poison/Korse
Looking for Satellites - Galaxy-hopping alien trader Gerard has business on space station Perseus Four. Getting to know station administrator Grant is a nice bonus. 25k
Ship: Gerard/Grant
Gerard is a sexy, telepathic and open minded (heh) alien and it’s great.
the only hope for me - Korse has never been one to show his emotions. 1k
Ship: Korse/Party Poison
your kicks don't hit, so we remain the same - a battery city ambush goes somewhat wrong. korsepoison. 0.8k
Ship: Korse/Party Poison
Methane Skies - Run, run, bunny, run. 3k
Hot damn this is some creepy and suspenseful stuff.
Ship: (implied) Korse/Party Poison
mutilate, maim and destroy (just a tad) - For clarification, this fic is about Gerard Way the actual person being tortured by Korse in the Killjoys universe. Like. Hnng, you'll see nevermind.
Ship: Gerard/Korse
A Room Full Of Suicides - His jaw was clenched and his whole body quivering. He looked right at Korse with those huge, transparent eyes. “Do what you want to me. I don’t give a shit, Korse.” He drew in a breath that shook. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s about standing up for what you believe in.”
God, the kid was adorable. Korse couldn’t wait to make him scream. 4k
Ship: Korse/Party Poison, Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (implied)
Of All the Places in the Universe - Gerard, an alien with a severe case of anomie and wanderlust, crash-lands in Jersey while traveling the galaxy. A chance meeting with a creature his studies had told him didn't exist leads to a surprising turn of events. With time, Gerard comes to call Earth home, and finds love with the adorable punk who found him--Frank, an energetic puppy of a werewolf who's really more bark than bite. 30k
"You know The Smiths?"
Gerard grinned. "Oh, yes! They're one of my favorite Earth bands."
Thank You For The - Just an alien in New Jersey, looking for a mate. 0.5k
Ship: Gabe Saporta/Mikey Way
"Have fun," Gerard said, even though he'd just told Mikey he couldn't have fun because he needed to be careful. Mikey wished his venom sacs were fully developed. He would spit on Gerard's shoes.
Double Exposure - “The worst part was the confession. Well, the explanation sucked too.” Written for prompt 38. Frank/Mikey - Frank and Mikey bodyswap during tour and have to play shows as each other. 2.5k
Frank isn’t part italian in this fic. He’s part alien! :D
Ship: Frank/Mikey
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