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byunpum · 11 months

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Ghost girl | prologue

Pairing: Sully family x Albino na'vi!fem (for the moment)

Warning: All the characters are aged up 20’s, disaster, injured, death, neytiri being the mom we all need.

Note:I had this draft written, and it was taking dust. So I'm posting it, so you can read it and tell me what you think. You can see that I haven't paired the reader with any of the characters, and I think it's my first writing that the reader is not human. So I would like to know if you like it, and if so, who would you like to be Y/N's partner?

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5(final)

You felt short of breath, the more you ran. A wave of fire was coming towards you. Holding your newborn baby in your arms. Turning to see your village being burned. You had to run, you had to get your baby to safety. The great trees that were once cold, were ablaze with flames. Climbing up a hill, fighting with your feet stuck in the snow. Resting a little, seeing how everyone was gone. The ships of those humans had destroyed everything.

Their ships were moving away, leaving a desert of fire in the snow. You can feel someone touching your chest, bringing you out of your shock. Your baby touches your chest, starting to cry. You hug him tighter, trying to find some consolation. Your family, your people…they were all dead. Two attacks in less than 6 months, just for a piece of land, just for having that damn mineral. Tears welled up in your eyes, you were heartbroken. It was all over…you were alone. You stood for a moment, analyzing the situation. You could still hear the sound of falling trees, the burning snow and the horrible smell of death. You had several wounds on your hands and legs. But they were not as worrying as the open wound on your right thigh.

You had tried to bandage it, before running out of your family's hut, as it burned. But it was barely covered. Groaning in pain, you sit down in the snow. You had to think about what you were going to do, you were alone. You had no home…those demons had taken everything from you. Holding your baby, closer. Kissing his hair. "Easy…easy" you speak. You had to get shelter, and fast. From your chest hung a beautiful green stone that your mother gave you minutes after you lost track of it. She had told you that there was a jungle clan, the Omaticaya. That they could help me, that it was the safest place. Taking the stone in your hand, to now take a look at the opposite side of the landscape.

You were from the clan of the icy mountains, the trip was going to be hard and dangerous. You were not a hunter, or an explorer. You were simply a girl who had lost everything. But you had no choice, rising from the ground. Bowing in respect. "Eywa…take care of my village, my people…take them with you. Promise them that we will meet again. I promise" you make the 'i see you' sign. Taking a last look at what was once your home, and leaving for the unknown.

The jungle was quieter than usual, the wildlife could be heard sounding. That's what neytiri thought as she walked in search of an animal. She had gone out to hunt alone. She had to clear her head, and spend time alone like the old days. Playing and touching some flowers, when out of nowhere he hears a small whimper. Her whole body freezes, raising her ears to listen better. That noise was not coming from an animal. She stayed silent, waiting to hear it again. A few minutes later, she heard the soft whimper again, someone was in danger. She was confused, it could be a human calling for help. Or a wounded na'vi. She didn't want to risk it if it was a human, she only socialized with the humans on the base, far from that nothing. But something told her she had to go see what was going on. Taking a deep breath, she walked slowly to where those whimpers were heard.

Peering carefully through the bushes, her eyes widen. When she sees a na,vi leaning against a tree. But that was not what was impressive, what had caught her attention. It was the color of this woman's skin, you had snow-white skin. Just like your hair, the stripes that adorned your skin were almost a blue that faded into your skin. Neytiri stood watching, she had never seen anything like this in her life. She was in a state of shock, it wasn't until she heard a whimper coming from the girl's arms. Neytiri looked down, seeing how she was holding the baby. But the grip was lazy, watching as the girl tried to move her arm, but it was too weak. Neytiri decided to approach carefully.

Neytiri holds her bow close to her, still being suspicious. Just to get close enough, to make you look up. Neytitiri felt her chest tighten when she could see how young the girl was. According to her she had to be the same age as her children. She let go of her bow, noticing that there was no weapon on any part of your body. But that you were injured, with burns.

You lift your gaze, looking at the woman. She was strange to your eyes, just as she was the first time you had seen a jungle na'vi. Looking down again, you were so exhausted. You had no strength to go on, your thigh wound was serious. And you had barely eaten in two days. You watch as the woman kneels down in front of you. "Who are you?" says neytiri. Trying to sound calm. "I…my name is Y/N te noeä pauzu'itan" you pause to catch your breath. "I am from the clan of the mountains of…cold" you speak, in a low tone. Neytiri moves closer to you, now all had some coherence. Her mother had told her something about these clans.

"What happened…why aren't you in your lands?" neytiri speaks, daring to touch a piece of your hair. Her maternal instinct, not allowing her not to help you. "They…they killed everything…everyone" you speak. "They?" asks neytiri. "The demons" you speak, neytiri hearing this word, tightens her bow. Closing her eyes, in response. Neytiri moves closer, looking at your wounded skin. And notices the large wound on your thigh. "We must heal it…I'll take you to the village" she speaks, watching as you awkwardly raise your arm. "No…I can't" you pick up your baby as best you can. Bringing him closer to neytiri. "Please…take care of my son. I can't" you are on the verge of fainting. "No…I won't leave you here" says Neytiri.

"I will die…I just want him to be okay…take care of him for me" your voice is very low. Neytiri notices how your hands are shaking, taking the baby in her arms. Watching as yours fall to your sides. "Thank you" you speak, smiling weakly. "I'm not going to leave you here" neytiri orders, getting up to think better. She had to plan something…in a matter of minutes neytiri created a sort of bundle, so she could hang the baby on her chest. Coming up to bend his back in front of you, taking your weak arms. Climbing you on her back, holding you tightly. She knew you could barely breathe, how weak you felt. Neytiri knew that if she left you, you would die in a couple of hours.

Starting her way back to the village. She walked as fast as she could, she had a baby crying. While carrying a girl on his back. She could have ignored her, but no…she could not. Getting closer to the village, taking faster steps. "We're close" neytiri says, waving your hand a little, hearing a 'mmm' in response. Good, you were alive. Entering the village, seeing how everyone was shocked by the scene, while neytiri walked fast to the hut where her mo'at mother was working. "Help, mother!!!" neytiri shouts, near the hut. Mo'at comes out quickly. To see how her daughter was carrying, what looked like a dead body. "This one" speaks mo'at.

"No…she's really hurt," says neytiri, watching as her mother begins to help her take the girl in her arms. Mo'at holds you on her arms, rushing to take you inside to treat your wounds. "I found her alone in the forest…she told me that her village was attacked by the sky people" says neytiri, she was scared. She tried to get there as fast as she could. Watching as her mother, began to examine your body. " She is from the clan of the cold mountains," says Mo'at. Mo'at finds the largest wound, and removes the dirty cloth. "I need to clean and treat this wound. I need the help of more people. Tell kiri to come" mo'at orders his daughter. Neytiri runs out of the hut.

She had the little baby on her chest, who had already calmed down, but she could hear some whimpering " calm down, we are taking care of your mother," Neytiri cuddles him, as she arrives to her hut. Kiri was with her sister tuk, talking to her father. They all see how neytiri enters in a hurry, she was agitated and you could see how worried she was. "kiri honey…come!!! Mo'at needs us" says Neytiri, Kiri without thinking about it gets up and accompanies her mother. "baby what's wrong?" shouts jake, from his seat. Noticing how neytiri ignores him and continues on her way to her mother's hut. Upon arriving, neytiri could see how mo'at had already started with everything, placing some medicinal pastes on the girl's skin. Kiri is surprised to see you, she has never seen someone like you before, but she doesn't ask too many questions. She feels her mother handing her something in her arms.

Kiri looks down, and sees a baby. Just like the girl they were healing. "Kiri hold the baby" says neytiri, approaching her mother. "Mom…will she be okay?" asks neytiri, she sees how your breathing is vague. But you are alive. "Yes…she's weak and I have to monitor that wound. But look" mo'at points to the large wound on your thigh. "I already put medicine in it…I need you to go get these herbs. I will make a drink to bring her vitality back" mo'at says, watching as neytiri ascends with her face, getting up to get everything her mother asked for. Mo'at watches as kiri is cooing to the baby, and began to wonder what such a young girl was doing alone with a baby. She could see that the baby was only a month old. Looking carefully at the girl's body, observing how on her neck hangs a green rock. Holding it in her hand, she had seen that rock somewhere.

After a rather agitated afternoon, neytiri was sitting next to her mother. Holding the baby, and kiri was next to the girl. "So what are we going to do with him?" asks Kiri. "I think it will be best if you take care of him…for tonight. She is very weak, I will take care of her" says mo'at, arranging a few pieces of white hair. Neytiri reaches over and caresses the girl's cheek. "Kiri…come let's go to the house" speaks neytiri. Kiri gets up, following her mother. Just as they were about to leave. "Neytiri…later I will come by your hut" says mo'at. Neytiri ascends, and leaves the hut. Looking at the baby in her arms.

Arriving at the hut, she finds to her surprise that everyone in the Sully family was there. Tuk is still small, so she runs to her mother. She hadn't seen her all day, but stops when she notices what her mom is carrying in her arms. "Is that a baby?" the little girl asks. Neytiri smiles, "Yes…and it's very small." neytiri walks over to where jake is. "A baby? where did you get that?" the man is scared and worried. Neytiri sits down next to him, moving the piece of cloth covering the baby a little. Revealing a totally white baby, his eyelashes, hair…everything. This causes everyone in the family to move closer. Including the two youngest men in the family. "That's…what is it?" asks lo'ak. Touching the baby's tiny foot. "I found a girl." Neytiri pauses, telling her family everything that happened. "Those bastards" jake says, the demons were just destroying…he was thinking to himself.

"I'm taking care of him…until she's okay" neytiri says. "but" she pauses…as some tears streamed down her face. "She is so young…I think she is the same age as you" neytiri looks at neteyam. The boy just looks at the baby that his mother holds on her chest. "and she's alone…I couldn't leave her there alone. She offered me her baby…she told me to keep him. Assuming she was going to die." says neytiri. Jake hugs her, and kisses her on the hundred. "You did the right thing my love…you're great. I bet that girl will be grateful" Jake speaks. At that same moment, everyone hears mo'at enter the hut.

"How is she?" asks Neytiri quickly. "She is stable…but she is very sleepy. I was able to give her the drink…she looks better" says mo'at. Kiri puts her hand to her chest, sighing in relief. " Mom…where did that girl come from?" neytiri asks, watching as mo'at sits in the familiar circle.

" The clan of the cold mountains…one of the most ancient clans. Great warriors and hunters. Their white skin, perfect for being invisible in their territory. Prepared to withstand brutal cold. Ghosts in white. They are not like all na'vis. separating in the far reaches of the mountains, to maintain their lineage. They carry a beautiful magic in their being… they are the favorites of eywa." mo'at spoke, watching as everyone listened to her intently. "Your father and I met them… making a pact of peace. They cared for us and we cared for them. But we never had another close call…not until now." Mo'at pulls from his pocket a stone. "This was given as a sign of peace…she had it around her neck. I guess she came for help" there was a silence in the room.

"She told me there was no one left" neytiri holds the baby tightly. Remembering how hundreds of her clan were wiped out, how their home tree was destroyed. And now they had to live in these caves in hiding. "I imagine the worst has happened…but we have to wait for her to tell us everything" mo'at speaks, reaching up to caress the baby's cheek. "Where is her family? Where is her mate?" mo'at asks. Neytiri falls silent, she too had many questions…but for the moment she was going to take care of the two of you. Until she could figure everything out.

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doki-doki-imagines · 5 months

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Power of a hug feat mk1 Johnny Cage, Bi-Han, Kenshi Takahashi author note:as my fave memer said "the wettest and most humid kiss is nothing in comparison to the power of an hug". There are other characters that I have in mind with this prompt so I hope the post will go well lol.

tw: Kenshi part is suggestive.

You are used to being alone, you have been for most of your years, and you are sure Johnny would never describe you as clingy. You give him his space, he gives you yours, nice and comfortable. That’s why when he told you about this expedition that was going to take him a long time and far away, you didn’t budge, just kissed him goodbye and told him to come back in one piece.

Okay, the departure wasn’t so blunt, and maybe there weren’t just kisses and maybe you were sobbing while telling him to be safe because you knew that Johnny wasn’t going out for a movie, but this is the gist of it.

And now you are sitting on Johnny’s armchair, wearing his favorite cover, the one dripping off his perfume, reading, trying to get your mind elsewhere while your heart silently shouts in pain, while your brain screams at it to shut up, because you are strong and even if you haven’t heard him for 2 months you shouldn’t miss him so much, because you are independent and yadda yadda; you miss him so much you’d curl up in a hole and get moldy there.

You sit there, ‘till you recognize a familiar sound, “is that Liu Kang voice?” you think, already standing up. There are other voices outside the house, but soon they all fade when you hear one in particular.

It’s Johnny’s one.

You’d like to stay in, wait for him inside nonchalantly walking towards him to greet your boyfriend as elegantly as you can muster.

Outside is snowing and you are wearing shorts (made of wool, but still shorts) and slippers but your mind simply doesn’t work, heart beating freely, pumping blood with new vigor.

“Johnny!” You open the door, freezing air hitting your body with full force, but you feel nothing.

Your legs run toward your boyfriend before your mind perceives your action. He turns around at your voice, and he is so beautiful your legs almost give up…almost.

“Oh-“ You jump in his arms, knocking him a few steps behind, not noticing all the gifts he had to throw on the ground to take you. You sigh in his arms, his strong arms now enveloping your shivering body “Kitty, are you shivering because you missed me?” He jokingly says,

“Yeah, it’s because I missed you so much.” Your voice breaks, your arms around his neck, legs gripping his waist as tightly as you can.

His hands slid on your thighs, thumbs drawing hearts on your skin, no goose-bumps, he is so warm and you are so full of love that you can’t feel anything else anymore.

Your foreheads kiss, breaths mingling, smiles stuck on both of your faces, warm brown eyes locked into yours.

His friends are long gone, leaving the two lovebirds alone.

He had to leave you there, in a snowstorm in the hands of the enemies, alone. You always have a plan, they always work out that’s why he trusts you so much even if you are a total dumbass.

“Go Bi-Han, don’t worry for me.” Your voice was trembling, you knew that you couldn’t survive and you also knew that he needed to return home alive.

And he follows your order because you are always right and things always go your way. Even when you are against him. Even when you tease him making his ears flush red. You always come up victorius.

Bi-Han stops on his track, snow falling on his shoulders. He can’t breathe. He hates you.

He’d like to sit there and let snow bury him. He can’t, he is Lin Kuei grandmaster whose willpower never waver, and who is headstrong like nobody else. Bi-Han has seen dear ones die in front of his eyes, betray him, this time mustn’t be any different.

Bi-Han feels like crying. You aren’t a fighter, but he wanted to bring you with him because nobody could outsmart you, and your brain was needed for this mission.

What an idiot. He tightens his fists, eyes closed so tight that wrinkles appear at the corners, no punishment would be enough for his mistake, never enough whips, never enough slaps.

He stays there a few more minutes, he couldn’t go back home, not ‘till he won’t be sure tears wouldn’t spill from his eyes.

Then he hears a voice, more like a whine, but it’s something he has heard many times before. Bi-Han starts to run towards the voice, walking much harder with so much snow.

“Told you-“ You are there, sitting on the snow, trembling like a newborn kitty, eyes shining, and with that shit-eating grin of yours “my plans never fail!” He crouches down towards you, he must be going crazy, his index and middle fingers pinch your cheek.

“Ouch! Why did you do that?” You are there, real, talking to him like you didn’t say goodbye to him a few minutes prior. He sits next to you, onyx eyes wide.

“You are alive” He is able to say, voice hoarse as always, mask reducing the sound to a mere whisper.

“Yeah, I would have never let anyone take my life, they have to get in line you know? Since you were the first one to promise me you were going to-“

Bi-Han doesn’t let you finish the phrase, his arms hugging your torso so close and so strongly against his body that he knocks air out of your lungs.

“I was so worried.” His right hand grips the back of your head, holding it in the nook of his neck. His voice trembles and he feels you stilling in his arms. He can feel your warm breath on his neck, your chest rising up and down at each breath you take; you are alive.

He almost lost you.

You free your head from his grip, thin ice on your hair like a veil made by his unrestrained magic, your hands now slowly removing his mask, showing you his trembling lips, you look at his eyes, he knows they are watery, his vision is foggy. Then your delicate fingers grip the collar of his uniform, your lips pressing for the first time against his.

It is a short moment, Bi-Han closes his eyes, and when he opens them your lips aren’t there anymore, but he still feels something warm; your arms reciprocating the hug.

It is suffocating but at the same time makes him feel alive, a warmth that envelops him entirely, that makes his heart run like a wild horse, but that puts his mind at ease; he is safe, you are too in his arms.

He couldn’t ask for more.

“K-Kenshi-“ You gasp, your hips grinding onto his, his tattoed hands running from your chest to your tummy, never resting, never letting you go.

He missed you. Kenshi missed you terribly. It wasn’t just sex, as good as it is, he missed your voice, your hands in his ones, your gentle lips on his cheeks. He missed hearing you talking about your day, about that terrible co-worker. He missed hearing your laughter and your hands massaging his scalp when he felt particularly stressed.

A moan dies in his throat after a delicious roll of your hips. Yeah, he missed this too.

You are close he can feel it and he is not far behind, but there is still something he desperately needs to do.

He lifts up, sitting now, his arms around your waist, hands on your lower back, both guiding your movements and keeping you close to his chest.

“I missed you so much-“ A whimper leaves his mouth, he can feel your lips so close to his, your breath labored, your body so close creates a delicious friction that just makes his mind fog even more.

“Me too, me too-“ You hug him back, your arms tight against his back, nails scratching his back while he helps you both reach completion.

You keep each other close, breaths still heavy, bodies sweaty.

“I missed you so much.” You are the first one to break the silence, Kenshi notices a hint of sadness.

Hint that became something more when the hand caressing your cheek meets a tear. The pang he feels in his heart hurts so much, but he also knows it is deserved.

“Me too honey, me too.” His right hand massages the back of your head, while the other traces heart-shaped patterns on your back.

Kenshi doesn’t let go, now laying on your shared bed, you on top of him. He can’t see your face, but losing sight made him more sensible, noticing every gasp leaving your lips, every twitch of your muscles.

He restrains himself, he can’t cry, but every gasp that leaves your lips is like a stab in his chest, each tear pulling your body closer, your hearts beating in synchronized sorrow.

But Kenshi can’t tell you that next time it will be different. He can’t reassure you that he will be safe.

He keeps you close to his chest ‘till he feels your breath slowing down, now stable. Kenshi keeps caressing your back, feeling his muscles relax, exhaustion washing over him too.

Kenshi soon falls asleep, wishing to still have you in his arms when he’ll regain consciousness the next morning.

#mortal kombat x reader #mk1 x reader #johnny cage x reader #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #johnny cage #bi han #kenshi takahashi #mortal kombat imagine #mk1 imagine #mortal kombat x you #mk1 x you

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phfenomena · 5 months

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❝playing a dangerous game.❞ || william h. bonney x f!reader

inspired by playing dangerous by lana del rey <33

| WARNINGS- daddy issues (yikes), kissing, unhealthy amounts of the color pink, mentions of getting shot, small suicidal thoughts

billy the kid x reader fluff

(divider by @dollienini)

she was as pure as snow, untouched by man, not yet trampled or turned into slush. her father sought to that daily, to ensure his daughter was ‘safe’. but safe doesn’t mean loved. she got her loving from outside sources, like maple spouts in the woods, going out with her girls, or in this case, the loving lap of an outlaw.

she’s sitting on his right thigh while the outlaw, named billy, is continuing his game of poker. a game she’ll never understand, her father deemed that an unnecessary topic for a lady to learn. but what did he even deem?

she’s giggling and offering her thanks to every compliment that floats her way, she can’t outrun them. they’ll always find her in a frilly pink dress. the pit in her stomach feels as if every compliment and disdainful comment adds ten pounds, until she’s swallowed up and feels like a piece of meat.

but billy wouldn’t let that happen. what’s different about billy is that he cares, he cares if she’s uncomfortable, he cares when she’s upset over her overbearing father, and he even wills himself to care when she complains about something that would never bother him. her champagne problems.

she’s sitting on her blush pink bedspread and fidgeting with whatever laid on her shelf. she was grounded, again, for coming home after sunset. billy and her simply lost track of time, but he’d never pay for it. right as she begins to spiral into the boredom and weigh the merits of suicide, a small tap against her window reaches her ears.

her face lights up at the noise and she rushes to unlock her window and swing it open. her room was on the ground floor but it was still a jump for him, his long legs stepping in as quietly as possible. her arms found purchase around his waist as she lightly jumped up and down. “billy! i was gettin’ so damn bored. my father grounded me again so i’m stuck here.” he sucked on his teeth and set his hat down on your desk before taking a seat on your bed and laying back.

“his mistake, leavin’ his pretty daughter alone with the maids while he’s out shooting my friends? better hope’d i’m not next on his list.” his voice is honey to your ears, making you skin feel warmer and leaving your stomach fluttering. it was bound to happen whenever he was around.

she sat next to him and their thighs touched before she realized how gruesomely underdressed she was. in only a sheer sleeping gown with her thin robe, she panicked. he’d only seen her in her full gowns. covered head to toe, yet here she was in front of him. he wasn’t even looking at her, his eyes closed and his head faced towards the ceiling.

“i tried convincing him that it’s not the sheriffs job to chase after you, better save him the face when you get away.” her voice is small while she studies his outfit. it’s different than usual, he was wearing a different shirt. and his boots were free of the mud and caked manure. did he clean up for her? he hummed an agreement and chuckled at her comment.

“did you…did you clean up to come see me, billy?” she says in a teasing tone while poking his shoulder. he covers his face and groans rolling away from her as she laughs and pulls him back. he uncovers his eyes and looks up at her. she just looks so pretty and clean. he’s almost scared he’ll break her- as if she’s porcelain.

she takes his hand in hers and soothingly rubs her thumb back and forth. “that’s really sweet that you cleaned up. adorable, actually.” there it is again, she says something like that and his stomach is doing flips. “well, they do call me the sweetest man in the west for a reason.” he manages to sound confident but internally he might as well as died.

she lays down next to him and props her head up on her hand. god, the way her hair falls, the way the candles behind her make her look like some biblical figure, and the way she somehow always manages to get a laugh out of him.

“i know you’re scared of my father and all but i really like spending time with you, billy. you’re different from other men i’ve known. you don’t make me feel like i’m heading for the butcher. you make me feel really happy.” she whispers out, acting as if she raised her voice he might disappear.

he ignores the ‘other men i’ve known’ to cease the bubbling jealousy inside of his chest. he props his head up the same way as her until they’re eye-to-eye. his free hand goes to fiddle with the lace of her robe as he’s trying to will himself to look into her eyes, like she’s a prettier medusa.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, angel. troubles gonna follow where i go. but i have loved every second i’ve spent with you and i’d like them to never end. my life isn’t safe for you though, you’ll get hurt and it’ll probably drive me to murder.” he jokes at the end but his words still soaked into herskin like a warm brandy.

she sits up and leans her face into his, gently meeting his lips. it was only for a second, but she was on fire. his hand reaches the back of her, braided and curled as usual, and pushes her lips back onto his. his hands cupping the sides of her face. so gentle. like a man should be.

she pulls the hem of her dress up and moves to straddle him, not breaking the kiss, which is heating up and he’s beginning to kiss down her neck when her door flys open “miss, do you have any-” her maid is stood in the door with a look of shock and the tomatoes she was previously holding ended up on the floor.

the girl scrambled up and grabbed the maids shoulders “don’t tell father about this and i swear to god i will do your work for a week, i’ll even pay you just please, please, do not tell father.” the maid nods slowly and picks up the tomatoes. a small smile playing at her lips.

billy’s covering his face and she was about to comfort him but he started laughing. genuinely clutching his stomach laughing, and she joined him. she sank to her knees on the floor and just laughed. “do you think she’ll really make you do her work for a week?” he managed to wheeze out. she holds her head in her hands and nods “oh, definitely! she never wants to work anyways.”

they were gravely embarrassed and her father will definitely find out, but at the end of the day, it’s always billy.

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tofics · 8 days

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Broken - Chapter 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: A year has passed since Joel and Ellie have returned to Jackson when he finds you on patrol, half frozen and half burning up. Jackson takes you in and nurses you back to health, welcoming you as the newest member of their community. The more time passes, Joel realizes that you and him have more in common than he likes... Until one day, everything changes and you get a gift that he'll never get.

Word Count: 3964 words

Warnings: Cursing, near death experience, mention of blood, insomnia.

Chapter 1 - A Brush With Death

Joel didn't know there could be so many types of snow. Texas didn't get all that much of it, at least not where he lived. He'd seen his fair share of the white stuff when he lived in Boston, but somehow, snow is different out here in Jackson. It could have been just an illusion, that it had only seemed different because Boston was different, crowded and dirty and falling apart at the seams, whereas Jackson is open, wide and free and clean.

Whatever it is, snow feels different here. Today, the flakes are big and heavy, a lot more like rain but not yet quite like sleet. They're coming down in chunks, flakes stuck together in tiny little icy clumps that fall to the ground in quiet and wet, prickling thumps. It's not as enjoyable as the soft and powdery kind that came down during his patrol yesterday. The shreds of ice prick his skin as they get blown across his face where his bandana doesn't reach. He rubs a gloved hand over the slither of exposed skin, but it remains itchy, irritated by its icy attackers.

Joel grunts and squints through the white flurry. "Can't see a damn thing in this damn weather," he grumbles, but carries on regardless. His horse lazily trots through the snow. Joel can't help but wonder what the animal thinks about this weather. Probably having as much fun as I am, he thinks and runs his glove over his eyes again. Some snowflakes got caught in his eyelashes. He feels the icy flakes melt on his eyeballs as he rubs the glove back and forth and shudders. Not a pleasant sensation.

He trudges through the snow for a few more minutes, but it doesn't let up. If anything, it looks like it's getting worse, more and more flakes fluttering through the air until visibility drops below 20 feet. "Alright, that's enough." His voice comes out in puffs of hot air. Joel flicks his tongue and softly tugs on the left rein. His horse immediately obeys. They do a 180, careful not to slip off the road. There's no point in staying out here in weather like this. Not if I can't goddamn see, he thinks. Once they're turned around, things are a little better. With the wind on his back, the brim of his head provides enough protection from the flakes and they're no longer blowing straight into his eyes.

15 minutes later, he's made it about half-way back to Jackson. The snow is coming down so heavy and quick that his horse's tracks are nearly covered again, the sheet of white almost seeming as undisturbed as before. Joel scans his surroundings as they trot back, peering across the black and white landscape in search of anything out of the ordinary, but he finds nothing. Now that his sight is undisturbed, the scenery is almost hypnotizing. With the wind on his back, the soft falling of the heavy flakes mixes into a soothing background noise. He notices his eye-lids getting heavy, straining to stay open as they run over white and more white, an endless canvas of the same coated trees and bushes.

It's no wonder then that he almost misses the set of tracks that cross his own in the snow, slurry and less precise than his horse's hoofmarks on the ground. It feels like a trick of his eyes at first, but Joel's instincts have had too many years of training. He perks up and flicks his tongue again, softly tugging on the reins so his four-legged companion stills. Joel peers down at the ground, inspecting the tracks. They're fresher than his own; the flakes didn't have enough time to fill the gaps on the snowy surface yet.

He slides the rifle off his shoulder as his eyes follow the tracks to the bushes on his left. Awaiting an attack, his gloved finger has already wandered down to the trigger, but he doesn't shoot right away. "What in the...?" His question hangs in the air along with little clouds of hot breath. What the hell am I lookin' at?

It's hard to make out at first. Animal? It's big and lumpy, but the contortions don't fit anything he's ever seen. Its coat is puffy and bloated and white, blending in it with its surroundings almost too easily. Joel's eyes travel over the unfamiliar creature until he suddenly realizes what he's looking at. "Aw, shit!" The curse comes out in a hiss as he slides off his horse.

What he thought to be an animal at first is nothing less than a human. He approaches the lump on the ground with a raised rifle, pointed at what he now makes out to be the head. This could be a trap, a voice inside him thinks, but something tells him it's not. It's nothing more than a gut feeling, but he still approaches the figure carefully.

"Hey." The person on the ground doesn't respond, doesn't even stir. "Hey," he repeats, this time a little louder. He nudges his foot against what he judges to be a leg, but again, there is no response. His gut and brain discuss for a moment before he leans down. In one swift motion, he's removed one of his gloves and shoved his hand into the fur that encircles the head. Immediately, he can tell that his gut was right. Heat simmers below the person's coat like a hot furnace. His cold fingers run over the naked skin until he finds the spot just below the chin.

A breath of relief leaves him when he feels a pulse softly thrumming against his fingertips, but it's weak. Carefully, he lifts the head and gently turns it so he can look at the face. It belongs to a woman, pale and ashen, tinging on blue. It's the look of someone who has no time to waste. "Alright," he mutters and hoists his rifle again before he places one arm under the woman's torso, his other wrapping around it firmly from above. "C'mere." He grunts as he attempts to lift her body off of the ground. She can't weigh much, but the angle is awkward and his shoes don't have much tract in the snow.

It takes him a couple of tries, but eventually, he manages to heave the limp body across his saddle. Once it stays up, he awkwardly climbs into the settle behind the woman. Her legs are dangling off to one side, her arms and head to the other. It's not ideal, but it'll have to do. "C'mon!" He kicks his horse's sides and they dash off, back towards Jackson, back to where there's doctors and medicine. He just hopes it's not too late.

You come to with a gasp, eyes flying open as your torso shoots upwards. Your first few moments of consciousness are overwhelming, a complete chaos of blurry vision, a dizziness that's threatening to push you over and the drumming of your own pulse in your ears, loud and deafening over the frequent beeping noises in the background. Your fingers dig into the material of the surface beneath you, a frantic search of something familiar, something that'll tell you where you are, something to steady you.

Before you've had any time to adjust, something's touching your shoulder, followed by a pressure that's pushing you backwards. You panic and grasp at the things that are forcing you down before realizing they are hands, but the realization doesn't slow your panic, it only fuels it. You flail, fighting against your attacker with flying limbs, scratching and screaming and putting everything in it that you've got. There's a sharp pull in the crook of your right arm, but you don't relent, determined to fight off your assailant.

Despite your strenuous attempt, you lose the fight and fall backwards. As your head slams backwards, your world suddenly regains focus, as if someone turned up the sharpening setting in one swift go. The dizziness remains, but despite your blood still rushing in your ears, you can also hear a voice.

"It's okay! You're okay! You're safe!"

You blink rapidly a few times. Your eyes are swimming in and out of focus before they settle on the person in front of you. It's a man dressed in faded blue scrubs. The arms that are pinning you down are his arms, but despite the threatening gesture, his face is full of concern, not threat. You slowly take in your surroundings as you catch your breath. You appear to be in a hospital room of sorts. It's got all the equipment that comes with the territory, beeping machines and all, which you realize are the source of the frantic beeping you heard just seconds ago; their rhythm gradually slowing as your breathing becomes more steady.

The man holding you down releases his grip on your shoulders and moves around your bed to your other side. You follow his movements closely and jerk back when he reaches for your right arm. In response, he takes a step back, hands raised.

"I just wanna help. Can I do that?" He points to your arm when you don't respond. Your eyes briefly flit down to follow his finger. There's blood leaking out of the crook of your arm; the bloody needle of an IV dangling on your bed's railing not far off. Must have pulled it out when I was panicking. It's your first coherent thought since coming to.

You give a court nod and he resumes his work immediately, tending to your wound with concentration. While he works, your eyes work over the room again.

"Where am I?" Your voice comes out rusted and croaky. How long has it been since I've been out?, you wonder and try to think back to the last thing you remember, but you come up blank.

"You're safe," the nurse responds. He's wrapped your arm up in a neat bandage - clean, you notice - and moves over to a cabinet where he retrieves a freshly packed IV needle. "Can I?" He nods at your left arm and you hum in agreement. You watch him insert the needle into your skin before you speak again.

"That's not what I asked." He finishes up his work by attaching the lines of your IV bag to your new access point, checking for air bubbles and tangles, then places his hands on your hand railing. His eyes find yours. "Look, you're safe, and that's all that matters right now." You want to interrupt him, but he holds a finger up. "No, just wait. Someone will be by to explain everything shortly. I'm not at liberty to say. But I promise," he leans in closer, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I promise, you're safe here. Okay?"

It takes a moment, but you nod and sink back into your pillow. Safe my ass, you think. When's the last time that anywhere was really safe? But what choice do you have? Your body is in no shape to fight, let alone to flee. Besides, this hospital bed is the most comfortable thing you've laid on in months. Might as well enjoy it while you can. Who knows what's waiting for you.

According to the clock on the wall, half an hour passes before the door to your room opens again. This time, it's not the male nurse but a woman that enters. She carries herself with the confidence of someone who's word counts. You prop yourself up as she approaches you, stopping a few feet away with crossed arms.

Neither of you speak for a moment. You eye each other, seizing the other woman up, a silent first introduction that seems to go well when she drops her arms to her sides and her body language switches from closed off to more open. Still, you're the first one to speak.

"You in charge?"

"One of the people in charge, yes."

"One of them?"

"There's a council, elected by the town's members." She seems to hesitate but then crosses the remaining distance between you two before holding a hand out.

"I'm Maria. It's nice to finally meet you." You can't help but raise an eyebrow, yet shake her hand anyway.

"Finally? You heard of me?"

"Oh, we heard plenty! Can I?" She nods at the open space on your bed in front of you and takes a seat when you gesture for her to sit down. "You were quite the talk of the town, the way you arrived. On the brink of death." She smiles at you and, to your surprise, it looks genuine. "Happy you pulled through."

There's an uncomfortable silence where you don't know what to say. You fiddle with the blanket between your fingers as quiet settles over you two.

When Maria reaches out to lay a hand on yours, you instinctually flinch back, but then allow the touch. You see a hint of sadness fluttering across her face, but she quickly hides it behind a sympathetic smile. "I don't know what you've been through, but it can't have been pretty. We're willing to offer you a place to stay, a new home if you want it, but we got rules."

A place to stay? A home?

What's the cost? you think, but don't say the question out loud. "Most of all, you've got to be willing to put in the work. We all chip in here," Maria says as if she overheard your thoughts. "Do you think that's something for you?" She gives you a moment to think about it. A smile spreads across her face when you finally nod.

"Great. Now relax, regain your strength. We'll figure everything out over the next couple of days. I'll come by and introduce you to some people so we can figure out where to place you, okay?" Maria slides off your bed and heads for the door. You can see her wringing her hands in anticipation, a mixture of concern and gladness on her face when she turns around to you once more. "You're safe here. You don't have to worry anymore."

She gives you one last smile and then she's out the door. Yeah right, you think. We'll see about that.

There's 57 cracks in the ceiling. You know this because you've counted them yourself, every single night since this house was first appointed to you. Despite the comfortable - clean, one might add -bed, the roof over your head, hell, despite the damn blackout-curtains, you can't find any sleep.

Your insomnia isn't new. The last good night's rest you've had was probably 22 years ago, before all hell broke loose and the world turned into the shithole it is today. You don't remember a day since where you didn't go to bed hungry or worried for your safety. To be fair, it was better when you had her. Despite worrying for two, it was better when she was there, her tiny body curled up against yours-

You stop the thought when the familiar hole aches in your chest. You try not to think about it, about her, because it always ends up hurting, the pain chipping away at the sides of the hole and making it larger with every relived memory.

"Fuck." You whisper, but it's almost as loud as a shout in the dead-quiet of the house. An entire house for a single person. It seems bizarre to you after having lived in tight quarters for so long, presumptuous even. It feels wrong. And lonely, a small voice chirps in the back of your head, but you swat it away like a fly.

"Alright, enough." There's no point in staying in bed any longer. Dawn is approaching outside, the faintest whisper of light slowly creeping over the horizon and casting long shadows across your bedroom. You roll out of bed and slip on your shoes, never having taken off yesterday's clothes. They provided you with an entire new wardrobe when they granted you residence, PJ's included and all, but old habits die hard.

You make your way downstairs where you brew yourself a quick cup of coffee. Out of all the amenities your new home comes with, this one just might be your favorite perk. Where your adrenaline betrays you during the day, you finally get to rely on caffeine again instead. It's one of the small pleasures you grant yourself every now and then, when a night has been particularly rough.

You lean against the kitchen counter in the semi-dark as you drink your coffee, savoring every sip. The world doesn't seem quite so bad in these moments, in the morning quiet with a steaming cup between your hands and the warm liquid running down your throat, warming you from the inside out and filling your body with fresh life force.

It's then that you hear two mumbled voices outside. Fuck. You mouth the word, cursing the fact that you left your gun upstairs. Carefully, you set your cup down and then open the top drawer next to you, taking out a large chopping knife.

Knife in hand and slowly, so as not to make any sound, you tip-toe towards your front door while keeping your back against the wall. You hear the voices growing louder through the thick glass panels that frame the entrance of your house.

"Seriously, Tommy, why me? Just 'cause I brought her in? It's not like we got a special connection or somethin'."

"Then you'll make one! It's not that hard."

You manage to peer out of one of the glass panels and realize with some relief that it's Tommy Miller, Maria's husband, and Joel Miller, his brother.

The fuck they want here so early in the morning?

"Look. When you and Ellie got here, you were all fidgety for the first few months, and I don't blame you with what you've been through. Hell, some nights even I don't sleep thinking about all we got to lose here." You watch as Tommy and Joel climb the front steps of your porch. "But you saw what this place is. What it means, what it stands for. We got something good going here, Joel. I know you can see that. I just want you to help her see that too."

There's a moment of silence between the brothers while they're staring each other down. "Fine." Joel sounds exasperated. "But why me?" An expression takes form on Tommy's face that you can only describe as 'knowing'. You don't like it. "Because," he starts and raises a hand to knock on your door. "You and her, you got the same kind of twitchy."

Before he can bring his fist down on the cold wood, you open the door in one swift motion.

"Mornin', boys."

They turn to you with a stunned look on their faces. Tommy in particular looks a bit strained, obviously wondering how much you heard.

"Saw y'all walking up on my porch when I came through the hallway," you offer in explanation and watch in amusement as relief washes over the younger brother's face. "What's got you comin' up here so early in the morning?"

"Ah." Tommy smiles broadly and slaps his older brother on the back. "Jeff got sick and Joel here needs a replacement buddy for his rounds. Thought maybe you could fill in for him, seeing as how we haven't found a job for you yet." He smiles at you expectantly, but his smile wavers a little the longer you let him wait for a response.

"Fine," you eventually say, mimicking Joel's tone from earlier. "Lemme' just get my jacket."

The first few rays of sunshine trickle over the land as you ride out of Jackson. You keep a steady, albeit not hasty pace next to each other. Despite what you overheard, Joel doesn't make any attempts of forming any kind of connection. You just ride together in silence, keeping a lookout for anything out of place. You're a little too proud to admit it, but the fresh, cold air feels really good on your skin. You make a mental note not to thank Tommy for this little set-up. Twitchy my ass, you think. What's it to him anyway?

The first half of your morning patrol passes by uneventfully. Joel leads you to what you can only assume was a camping site back in the day where he wipes some snow off of a picnic table and pours steaming hot coffee out of a thermos flask into two cups; one for him, one for you. Despite your morning coffee, you gladly accept the little tin cup and sip on the hot liquid.

You both drink your coffee in silence. You don't mind it, in fact, you almost embrace it. Everyone else you come across in Jackson is just so happy all the time, so open and welcoming and smiling that it makes you sick. Joel's stoic silence, in comparison, is refreshing.

"So, you don't talk very much, do you." You blow on your coffee as you watch his face. He turns to you and his eyes lock onto yours where they remain for a moment. "Not really, no," he says finally. "You mind that?"

You can't help but scoff. "God, no. It's refreshing, really. Everyone else is just so... chipper, like, all the time. It's maddening." You wrinkle your nose in disgust and hear a deep chuckle coming from Joel's chest. "That they are."

When you've both finished your coffee, you get back on your horses to start on the remaining half of your patrol. It starts snowing softly, a few flakes here and there, and for a moment, you almost feel something resembling peace.

"Aren't you supposed to be bonding with me?" you quickly say before the feeling can take root. Joel looks over at you. "You heard that, hu?" "Sure did." Now it's Joel's turn to scoff. "Then you heard it was Tommy's idea, not mine."

You purse your lips but nod, your pursed lips eventually growing into a smile. "I can work with that." It's the last words you speak while the two of you control the perimeter. Even though you're not looking, you can tell Joel's smiling out of the corner of your eye.

Back at the stables, you help take the saddles off of your horses and brush them down. You're on your way to leave when you hear Joel behind you. "Y'know, this place really is safe." You don't turn around, but have stopped walking, an indicator that you're listening. "Didn't believe it m'self when I got here, but Tommy's right. They got a good thing goin' here."

"They?" You've turned around after all. Your eyes seek out his. "Thought you're a member of Jackson?"

A dry smile plays around Joel's lips. He turns from you to pick up one of his horse's behind legs. "Sure am. 'S just they're better than I am, is all," he says as he scrapes the bottom of the hoof.

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. The silence stretches between you two and it becomes clear that he's said all there is to say. "Alright." You turn and start your walk home, back to your house that's too big for just one person, but is one of the few places where people will leave you alone. Safe or not safe, it's the only place you've got to go to.

Joel straightens as you leave the stables. He watches as you make your way across the snowy grounds, away from the people and back towards the residential area. He watches and wonders what your story is before returning to the task at hand. None of my business, he tells himself and resumes his work.

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kyber-kisses · 1 year

Text

Here In The Dark

Captain Rex x Jedi!Reader

Summary: while on a scouting mission the Reader and Rex are forced to find shelter when an unexpected blizzard hits.

Warnings: minor injuries, mutual pining😈, Rex being his socially awkward self-

A/N: this is purely self indulgent and it’s probably crap but enjoy!

“Yep it’s decided. I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill Anakin.”

“Little dramatic dont you think?”

Shifting in the knee deep snow, you turned to give Rex and icy stare that rivaled the weather around you. “No. All I think is that when we make it back to base camp I’m gonna force throw him into the nearest sun.”

It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission across the northern ridge line. Blue skies and warm weather the whole time. Nothing to worry about.

At least that’s what Anakin had told you.

And what a fool you were to think he was right.

Because now the sun had long since set and a horrific blizzard was bearing down and you and the captain as the both of you struggled through the almost waist deep snow. Your comma had long since lost contact with base camp now leaving you and Rex completely alone on the darkened mountain side as sheets of heavy snow slammed into you with even stronger winds.

The only positive was that at least you were with Rex. If you were with anyone else you probably would have buried them in the snow somewhere. For example: Anakin.

If Anakin were here you would have buried him the the powder a good few miles back.

“You know stomping around all bitterly isn’t gonna help the situation.” Rexs voice cut through the wind slightly as he trudged besides you.

“Says the one with the helmet on that protects his face from the wind and the cold.” You grumbled, feeling snowflakes stick to your eyelashes as you blinked. “Can you hand me your nightscope?”

“Sure thing.” Once the device had been procured to halted in your tracks, ignoring the way the wind and snow whipped your hair around your face as you looked through the night vision scope.

You had hoped for better quality but with the heavy falling snow and winds the screen was a mess of fuzz for the most part. You were still practically stumbling around blind.

“Let me have a try.” Extending his hand once more, you dropped the scope back into Rexs possession watching through squinted eyes as he surveyed the land with the scope.

“Anything?”

“Two clicks to the east.” The captain spoke, pointing his finger into the dark before passing the scope back to you.

It wasn’t much but it was something. Through the fuzzy landscape you could just barely make out a dark blotch against the side of the ridge. “Cave maybe?”

“Here’s to hoping. We don’t really have any other options.” Rex shrugged, clipping the scope back onto his belt before moving forward with you in tow.

You and Rex stuck as close to eachother as you could in fear of losing one another in the white-out conditions. Cold bit at every inch of your body wether it was exposed or not, it seeped into the cradles of your boots and made its way in the fabric of your gloves. No part of you was safe.

“Commander, here.” At the sound of Rexs out of breath voice you picked your eyes up from where they had been focusing on the ground, only to find he had stopped, extending his hand to help you up the steeper incline. You took it graciously, allowing him to keep the two of you tethered the remainder of the way.

The two of you were practically in the cave before you knew you had even reached it. One moment you were at the mouth and the next you were sliding through it. The cave led ever so slightly downward a few feet before flattening out completely, Rex assisting you down as the two of you moved away from the howling winds and ice pellets that battered the mountain side.

Before you could even reach for your own flashlight, Rex was clicking his on, a bright beam of cold white light cutting through the darkness as he scanned the inside of the cave, his hand hovering over his blaster.

“No one’s here Rex. I can feel it.”

All you could feel in the force was you and Rex, along with the dull vibrations of the rock and dirt beneath you. There were no other life forms. As the beam danced across the cave walls you made sure to make note of everything. It was small, the cave ceiling on three or four feet above your head and it’s entire size couldn’t have been bigger than your quarters aboard the Resolute.

Shrugging off the survival pack that had been on your back you dropped it to the floor, fingers still too cold to do anything that mattered.

“I’ll get a fire going.” Digging into the bag himself, the captain pulled out a cinder kit.

“I can help.”

Kneeling down on the cave floor next to Rex, you helped set up the small device. Normally all it would take was one small click of the button but of course said button was broken.

“You’re lucky you got stuck out here with a Jedi with my abilities.” Musing lightly you cupped your hands and brought them to your lips, warming them up in whatever way you could before rubbing them together. When you finally got a small spark you let out a sigh of relief before sharply snapping your fingers together to produce a small flame. “Aha still got it!”

“When we’re you gonna tell me you could do that?” Besides you, Rex watched the tiny flame dance across the top of your finger tip in wonder.

Shrugging slightly, you brought the flame down to the cinder box and a moment later a much larger flame leapt forth, brightening the cavern exponentially. “Right now.”

“Can all Jedi do that?”

“No unfortunately. It’s a skill only a handful of us possess.”

“Well nice work Commander.”

A small smile tugged on your lips. “Thank you.”

If someone had told you this morning that you would be spending the night holed up in a cavern on the side of some mountain int he middle of a blizzard with Rex you would have laughed. . . Yet here you were.

And honestly there were worse places you could be.

“You doing alright commander?” Standing up from where he had been knelt on the floor, Rex wiped off his gloves before giving you a concerned look.

“I’m fine all things considered. You?”

“Never better.”

As the heat of the fire filled the cavern you peeled off your boots, your socks following suit as you laid them out next to the dancing flame. The fire would do l it take to help you if you were sitting around in soaking wet clothes.

And at that thought you began peeling of the layers of your Jedi robes, oblivious to the fact that Rex had flushed a deep red before averting his gaze from you. When you were done all the remained on your body was the solid black undergarment you wore. It was once peace and didn’t have any sleeves but it went down to your mid thighs in a way that made it look sort of like a unitard. It was the only dry piece of clothing you had left.

You were half way through pulling out both of the therma-blankets from the pack when you realized Rexs back was turned to you, his hand awkwardly on his hip as he face the mouth of the cave.

“Rex? Are you alright?”

His posture straightened ever so slightly at his name. “Of course commander! Just wanted- just wanted to give you some privacy that’s all.”

His words hit you suddenly as you looked down at your much more exposed body, now understanding. “Oh.”

You hadn’t even thought about how Rex might react to that. You had been friends with him for so long you didn’t even think twice.

Wrapping one of the reflective therma blankets around your shoulders, you padded across the floor of the cave, reaching out to gently grab his shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about that. I don’t mind. Just be glad I’m not walking around full on nude.” You joked lightly, once more unaware of the deepening red creeping up Rex’s face.

When he didn’t say anything you felt a slight frown slip across your features. He was acting weird. Very weird.

“You should get out of that armor. This type wasn’t meant for the cold climates such as this.” You waved your hands, gesturing to the weather beyond the mouth of the cave. “Add that to the list of reasons on why I’m gonna kill Anakin when we get back. He should of had us prepare better.”

At that you got a light chuckle out of Rex, the clone captain turning slightly to look over his shoulder at you.

“I’ll be fine commander.”

You sent him a warning stare. “As both your superior and friend I’m telling you if you don’t get out of that armor right now I will start peeling it off you. You need to stay warm and this?” You knocked your hand against the plastoid armor, your teeth chattering slightly as you spoke, giving away the fact that you were still cold. “This isn’t gonna help you.”

At your words the captain let a heavy sigh before raising his hands to undo the clasps of his chest plate which you took gently from him before sitting it against the wall next to the pack. You repeated the action several more times until all his armor was stacked neatly to the side.

“See? I bet you’re warmer already?” You mused, looking up at him with a small smile as you gently rested your hand against his chest momentarily.

Beneath your touch Rex shivered, the feeling foreign to him enough to elicit a physical response. If you had felt it you didn’t say anything.

In truth, you had Rex wrapped around your finger. (Not that you knew). From the moment you joined the 501st as its other Jedi- commander you had Rexs complete loyalty and respect. You came walking on the bridge with your kinda smile and even kinder eyes and Rex swore he melted.

And now here he was in some cave with a half naked you.

Force, he had a way of always ending up in weird and awkward situations.

“You hungry? I know there’s like a weeks worth of ration bars int he front ouch of the pack?”

“I’m alright commander, but thank you.” Moving past you, Rex lowered himself to the ground in front of the fire, leaning back against the cave wall behind him with a heavy sigh.

Beneath his gloves he squeezed his fingers into a fist, repeating the action several times before it caught your attention.

“Your hands are cold aren’t they?”

“Nothing I can’t deal with commander. I’ve been through worse.”

At his words you rolled your eyes before sitting down in front of him and tucking your knees to your chest. “Why must you clones all be so stubborn?”

“I am not stubb—“

Rexs words felt flat as he suddenly felt your hands gently taking his. Turning his head he watched once more with a sudden blush on his cheeks as you carefully removed his gloves and tossed them to the floor.

Your fingers danced over the calloused skin of his palms as if memorizing every bump and scar before you cupped his hands and brought them to your lips before breathing a gentle plume of hot air into them. Curious brown eyes watched you as you placed a gentle kiss to his finger tips before shifting to grip his hands fully in your own.

“And it’s Y/N by the way.”

Rexs brain seemed to have short circuited because he had no clue as to what you were talking about. “. . . What?”

“Back on base it’s Commander this and Commander that. Here? I’m just Y/N. No need for the formalities. I call you Rex don’t I?”

“I mean, yeah I guess?”

You nodded slowly, dropping Rex’s hands as you moved to adjust the blanket around your shoulders when a shiver ran through your body.

“Still cold?”

“A bit. These therma- blankets only do so much.” You explained, look down at the reflective material that you currently had wrapped around you.

“ I can agree with you on that.” Rex sent you a small grin as he paused. “We should stay close together though. It will help contain our body heat.”

It took everything in the poor captain to not stumble over his words at the thought of staying so close to each other.

“Good call.” You nodded before standing back up and walking across the cave floor to grab the other therma-blanket at the two compact bed rolls that you had also carried with you.

The only problem was you couldn’t get the damn packaging opening. Though your own hands had warmed exponentially your fingers were still shaky as you tried to break to wrapping on the sleeping pads. After a moment you let out a string of curses.

“Kriffing hell, who in the force packed these damn th-“

“Here, let me try.” An arm suddenly reached over your shoulder, taking the package from your hands.

Letting out a defeated sigh you nodded as you turned. “Thank you, Re-“

If there were any other words you were supposed to say they no longer existed as you came face to face with Rex’s bare chest. The clone pausing in his action when he saw you had turned, almost instantly the red returned to his cheeks.

“My Uh- my shirt was still wet. Thought it would be best to let it dry with everything else—“ he stuttered slightly, apparently oblivious to the pink that had now graced your cheeks as well.

Another shiver went up your body along with a small choked sound departing your lips.

At that Rex frowned, suddenly kneeling down to grab the other therma-blanket and wrap it snuggly around you. “Still cold?”

Oh. Oh your sweet, awkward, oblivious captain thought the shiver was from you being cold. Kriff, he was gonna be the end of you.

You went sure if it was how tired you were or whatever was happening in front of you but out of nowhere your knees buckled and you went down. . . Or you would have if Rex hadn’t reached out and caught you, warm study arms securing you safely to his chest as he lowered you softly to the ground.

“Oops.”

“Comman- Y/N? Are you alright?”

“Just a little case of jelly legs.” You laughed awkwardly, Rex looking at you with a concerned gaze.

“Stay here.”

Humming a response you settled onto your butt ont he floor of the cave, watching as Rex peeled the sleeping pads out of their packaging, the pads instantly beginning to inflate.

You didn’t even get a chance to move once they were full before Rex was suddenly picking you up yet again and settling you down on one and securely tucking the therma-blankets around you.

“That better?”

You hummed a response, watching Rex with a new type of wonder as you did.

“Get some sleep. I’ll take watch tonight and we can head out at first light once the storm has moved passed.” He explained, standing up to move away.

You could see goosebumps prickling his skin as he moved away and before he could get any further you had gotten up from your sleeping pad and quickly gone after him. He had barely turned around before you were wrapping him in a hug, the warmth of his skin flush against your own as you did.

At this point Rex had lost track of the amount of times you had gotten him to blush, the sudden contact of you against his body making his goosebumps more apparent.

“You need to stay warm too.” You spoke softly, pulling off one of the blankets as you did before moving to wrap it snugly around his broad shoulders. Once that was done you grabbed his hand once more and tugged him back across the cavern, onto pausing once to nudge the two sleeping pads together with your foot.

“What are you-“

Collapsing onto the first one, you parted at the vacant spot next to you. “C’mon. Don’t worry about keeping watch tonight. Nothings out here. . . Except us.”

Rex gave a concerned glance towards the mouth of the cave. He didn’t like the idea of no one standing guard. . . But at the same time he was cold and tired and he wanted nothing more than to fall onto that sleeping mat next to you.

The captain let out a sigh of defeat as he did just that, a sort of shy smile crossing his lips as he did. With his back resting against the smooth stone of the cave wall, he settled onto the sleeping mat, inhaling deeply when you moved closer to him to the point in which the skin of your arms were flush against eachother.

“You’re like a walking furnace you know that?” Letting out a relaxed sigh, you rested your head against Rex’s shoulder, curling up closer to him as you did.

“Heh, I don’t really feel like it.”

Everything in Rexs body wanted to shiver at the contact of your skin against his, but he belt fast. Instead trying to focus his attention on the firelight dancing across the caves walls.

There was a few good minutes of long silence which allowed Rex to believe you had fallen asleep, but after another moment you spoke up.

“Rex?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“You ask me weird questions all the time.”

You let out a tired laugh, picking up your head to look at him. “Have you ever been kissed before?”

At that Rex fell silent, glancing awkwardly around the room. “No offense but that not what I was expecting.”

Sitting up properly you fiddled with your fingers. You could face down Sith Lords and swarms of droids and remain unfazed. . . But this? This was the thing that was making you awkward. Funny how the universe worked.

“I just, I really wanna kiss you l. I know we’ve been friends for years but how could I not get feelings for you because your so kind and patient and caring and loyal and I just- you’re brilliant in every way imaginable and here we are in this cave in the middle of nowhere and I don’t know if I’ll get a chance lie or his again and I think maybe you feel the same about me and I-“ you paused, look over at the bewildered look on Rexs face. “I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“I- Uh. . . Yeah maybe a little-“Rex spoke slowly, clearly showing he was trying to wrap his head around everything that had just come out of your mouth.

“See, and now I’ve made everything awkward!” You wailed, your face falling into your hands as you did.

“No! No-“ sitting up besides you, the captain reached towards you, pulling your hands away from your face before awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “I just- I’ve never really kissed anyone. I don’t want to do it wrong or anything-“

This time both of your were blushing, red cheeks inches from each-other as you looked at Rex with wide eyes.

“That doesn’t matter to me. You’re just so brilliant and amazing and the force feels warmer when I’m around you and-“

Neither of you had realized how you had both slowly begun navigating towards each-other, your nose Alamo touching as you looked at each-other, eyes wide and curious.

“Y/N.” Rexs voice was soft. Softer than you had ever heard it, but it captured you all the same.

You didn’t know how he did it, but Rex had reached into a place deep inside you and brought something forth you had yet to think about. A realization in a way.

“I have so many names now that I think about it.” You whispered, almost as if he had put you in a trance. “Padawan, Knight, commander Y/L/N, Y/N— but here?” You voice grew quieter. “Here in the dark, with you? I have no name. I am just me. Entirely me.”

Both set of eyes flickered downwards and you and Rex closed the gap between you as equals. It was a shy kiss but when Rex slowly deepened it you couldn’t help the small gasp of surprise that escaped you before you melted further into him. His hands were warm now and they cradled your face so delicately and beneath your palm his chest radiated heat. He was like being wrapped in pure sunlight.

He pulled back slowly after a moment, looking downward somewhat shyly. “Was that ok?”

“Everything you do is always more than ok-“ it was as if you had been put into a dazed state by his lips, your body settling against his as you sunk lower onto your mat, your head against Rex’s chest. Beneath your ear his heartbeat thumped rhythmically and for the first time that night you both felt warm.

Maybe you wouldn’t kill Anakin when you got back to base.

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #Rex x reader #captain rex imagine #the bad batch #the clone wars #clone wars fic #batch batch fic

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covetyou · 5 months

Text

freeze-thaw

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: no outbreak, fluff, smut, fingering, playing in the snow, temperature play, Joel probs has super bad circulation, established relationship but it's their first Christmas together and reader has some relationship insecurites word count: 2.7k summary: With your holiday plans ruined when a freak snow storm blows through town, you spend the fesitve period holed up with your partner, Joel Miller, learning exactly how warm you can keep each other in the snow.

A/N: happy holidays and merry sunday @oogaboogasphincter, from your Pedrostories Secret Santa! I went mostly for a snow, with a sprinkling of established relationship, and a dash of doing cozy things. I don't think I've written any of these things before, so it was a learning experience! I used just about every synonym I know for the word cold too.

snowy dividers by @saradika-graphics follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

Your holiday plans had gone to shit the moment that first flurry fell from the sky. Icy roads, cancelled flights, and downed power lines - Texas infrastructure at its finest - had put a halt to your plans to head back north for the holiday. Joel's holiday plans didn't fair much better, and instead of your first Christmas together being spent apart, you were spending your first Christmas together, well, together.

Then, to make a bad thing worse, the power went out, leaving you stuck in the dark and the cold in your apartment, and together suddenly became very together.

It hadn't been the plan - you still felt so very shiny and new at this, at being with him, and the idea of spending such a significant holiday holed up with him terrified you more than the dark ever did. But still, Joel drove on treacherous roads to come pick you up at 3am, dragging you and the perishable food from your refrigerator back to his place for the holidays. He had a generator, and fuel, and enough space for both of you to be comfortable, he said.

You spent the first day keeping to yourself, tiptoeing around, not wanting to disturb him any more than you were. Then he'd caught you circling around the back of the sofa, so as to not disturb his view of the TV, and his deep laughter stopped you dead in your tracks.

A "the fuck are you doin'" later and your insecurities came tumbling out, quickly quashed by Joel as he made it very well known just how much he wanted you there. That night, it didn't take you long to learn how warm you could keep each other.

The second day was spent bundled together on the sofa, him between your legs or you between his.

On the third, you worked up such a sweat together that you'd walked around his house naked, never more grateful for the generator chugging away in the garage.

Eventually, domesticity took over, and you spent a day wrapped up in each other in different ways. Watching a movie, drinking hot coffee, cooking a meal.

You'd trailed behind Joel into the yard on his way to check the generator that same day, Joel wanting to check it was well fueled, and you wanting an excuse to be out of the house for five minutes.

You kick at the snow, enjoying it for a few moments before it inevitably seeps through your shoes and chills your toes. Reaching down, you fluff it through your fingers, throwing a little into the air just to watch it fall again - as if you hadn't seen enough falling snow this last week. Joel is watches you, his eyes burning into your back and a smile tugging at his lips.

"You get inside, I'll deal with all this."

You stick your tongue out at him, trudging further over the snow to spin in the middle of the yard with your arms flung wide. He's laughing along with you when you stop, disorientated and unsteady on your feet. Looking back to him you stop in your tracks, finally seeing the deep gouges that mar the otherwise pristine white crust covering the ground. Yours and Joel's boots, footprints in the snow. Something about it, your foot steps mingling there together for all to see, wretches open your chest and captivates you.

And so, drawn in as you were by the footprints, you write your initials in the snow. Yours first, and then his, joined together and underlined as fact. You hesitate to carve out a frozen heart - too fearful to freeze something so warm and new and growing in something as rigid and fragile as ice - and turn to Joel again, a smile spreading across your face as you gesture to the letters in the snow -

"Oof."

- and a snowball, aimed perfectly at the back of your head a moment ago collides directly with your face. You cough and splutter, briefly blinded by ice as you swipe your freezing fingers over your face, hearing the creak of Joel's boots on the snow as he approaches you with apologies and laughter spilling from his lips in equal measure.

You glower at him, snow undoubtedly caught in your eyebrows, hiding a laugh of your own.

"Get," he says, turning you by the shoulders and pushing lightly to get you back inside. "I'll handle out here, check on the generator. Get warmed up."

Inside, the warmth almost burns as you peel off your layers and check on the food still baking away in the oven. Holding your hands in front of it like it was an open flame, you warm your fingers and wait for Joel, who comes back a few minutes later, chilled to the bone, stomping the snow from his boots and shaking his head as he shudders with the cold.

"Generator's still lookin' good," he says, slapping his gloves down on the counter. He rubs his hands together, blowing on them in an attempt to warm them up faster. Four days now, and the power was still out thanks to a new downfall of snow overnight.

"Your turn to get warm then," you smile, bending down to peer into the oven. "Dinner won't be long now."

"Sounds great, darlin'."

The bitter bubble of air he brought in with him surrounds you as he pulls you into his arms, nuzzling his frosty nose into your hair, laughing with you as you twitch away from the cold.

You expect him to move to the stove, to warm his hands on the heat of the oven just as you did, but instead he draws his fingertips up your belly, pushing your sweater up. Cold fingers meet the soft warmth of your bare skin and you gasp, gripping his arm.

"Joel! Don't you dare."

It was karmic justice really, given the number of times you'd warmed your feet on him in the night recently. You couldn't help it if the man was like a radiator.

"Got old fingers, baby, cold gets to my bones quick. Lemme warm 'em up, I know just the place."

"Fine," you say, tensing and preparing for the incoming press of his icy hand to your belly.

It doesn't come. Instead he tucks his hand down the front of your leggings, dragging the cold with him and holding you tight with his other arm.

"Joel..."

"What? Friction gets 'em warmer quicker. You don't want me to lose 'em to frostbite, do you?" You can feel him smiling into your hair as you gasp at the cold press of his fingertips to the white heat between your legs.

"No. Wouldn't want you gettin' frostbite."

Joel hums into your hair, breathing you in, just as he starts to rub softly over your clit. The sensation makes your skin prickle, first with warmth, then with cold, then something deliciously inbetween.

A moment later he's already slipping them from you and you twist, raising your eyebrow at him and preparing to call him a tease, only to watch as he slides his fingers into his mouth, slicking his cool digits up with his saliva. He's tucking them back into your leggings with a mocking raised eyebrow of his own, kissing the gasp from your lips as his fingers make cold, wet trails down your warm stomach again. They slip against your clit with ease now, but the wetness only exacerbates the chill of his fingers.

The layers of your panties and leggings can't warm up his hand fast enough, and even as he starts to rub gently at you, doing much more than just warming his fingers, you feel a shiver of cold run through you.

"Friction is b-bullshit," you stutter. "Your fingers are still cold as hell."

"Just think how I feel, they're my fingers."

"My heart bleeds for you, Joel," you retort, leaning your head back onto him.

"If it don't feel good, I can stop."

"... I never said anything about stopping," you sigh, closing your eyes and widening your stance a little so he can reach further down.

Joel doesn't need further prompting, his spit slicked fingers slipping through your folds to dip lower between your legs to swipe at your entrance. It seemed counterintuitive, putting something so cold somewhere so warm, but Joel's fingers sliding with ease through the wetness pooled between your legs was proof enough that it did something.

Small strokes become broader, his cold fingers swiping up and down the seam of you as if to prove friction was all he was after. The heat from your core soon begins to warm his fingers, pulling warmth back into his bones and easing the ache in them with each passing moment. Still, it's slow going, and your arousal seems to grow exponentially quicker than the warmth in his fingers.

When they finally feel warmer, and your soft sighs turn to deeper moans, you arch your back, winding your hips along with the movement of his fingers. The cold was no match for how hot you were starting to feel. You would burn the cold right out of him before he was through.

"Joel-"

You gasp again when he slides a single cool finger down and presses it slowly inside of you. His fingertips may have been warmed by friction, but the length of his digits had not, and they still felt icy cold, making you clench and grip around him. Still, no amount of clenching can hide the wetness dripping out of you as he slides in with ease, slicking his finger up before pushing in with a second. He fucks you with them slowly, restricted by the fabric of your leggings, before pulling your arching back flush to his body. A second later his fingers still inside you, anchoring you down just as his palm presses flat against your mound. Warming you up and then cooling you down again over and over was making your head spin, and while you shudder and shiver in his arms, you know it's not the cold that does it this time.

"How are your hands still so cold," you pant.

"Bad circulation, darlin'," he whispers, and you feel yourself grow wetter still at the low gravelly sound of his voice.

"Should get that seen to."

"Good job I got you in the meantime."

The slow curl of his fingers isn't enough, and you find yourself rocking into his frigid palm, eager for the friction to return to your clit now that his fingers are buried deep inside you.

"Grind on it, darlin', that's it. Warm me up."

He rubs the heel of his palm against your clit in sync with your movements, and before you know it you're holding back twitches and biting your lips to stop moans from spilling too loudly out of you.

"You're gonna make me come, Joel."

"Just warmin' my hands, nothin' else."

You can hear the smile in his voice and feel it against your neck as he nuzzles his cold nose into your cheek.

"I know your game, Miller," you say, before groaning once again, pressing back against him with each rock of your hips, feeling the rapid swelling of his cock against your lower back. It seemed you were warming him in more ways than one as his fingers curled inside you, pushing and dragging against that spongy spot on your front wall that he never failed to find.

"Pussy's like a damn furnace. Who needs the generator, when we got this."

His palm is still cold, but you're starting to sweat, feeling the prickle of it across your scalp as you move, panting into the warm air of Joel's home. He could hold you like this forever, be buried in you like this forever as the world outside turned to ice, and you wouldn't mind.

But you're made painfully aware that this can't last forever as you feel yourself getting closer, pressure building inside you with each buck of your hips.

"Joel."

It's dizzying - his slowly warming palm and fingers, now red hot inside of you as they press and press and press at you in a way that would normally have you boneless if you were lying on his bed. But, standing here in the kitchen, you lock out your knees and hold on, white knuckle gripping the counter with your own still cold hands.

A shudder hits you when his cold face nudges yours again, and you turn your head to meet his lips in a kiss. He pulls the warmth from you there too, his cold nose nudging at yours. Even through your panties and the restricted movement of his hand, you can hear how wet you are, sloshing beneath his palm as you let out a keening moan straight into his mouth.

"S'okay. I got you."

He coaxes it out of you, you can feel it coming, his fingers picking up the pace, making the nudge of his palm just right, for just long enough, to send you skyrocketing in his arms.

It's white hot, sending a shiver down your spine as an orgasm ripples through you, twinkling behind your eyelids before exploding in your core, a muted breathy scream pulling from you with each gasping breath that leaves your mouth. You're falling apart as he holds you together, coming on his fingers and beneath his palm as he grinds it into every rock of your hips. Well practiced hands stop just as you're hitting a point of oversensitivity, cupping and holding onto you gently as you go as limp as you can in his arms, knees locked to keep you upright.

He swallows down each of your moans greedily, until you're left breathing heavy, forehead pressed to his. You feel half asleep, even standing on two feet.

"S'your turn," you mumble, only to be dissmissed by Joel with a promise of "later". You're grateful for it, feeling too sleepy to function all of a sudden, until Joel's voice rumbles through you once more.

"I'd say you make a great handwarmer, darlin'."

Laughter spills out of you, warm and bright, the heat in your cheeks warming his nose as he nuzzles against you once again.

"Only one problem," he murmurs, the cottonwool slowly clearing from your head.

"Mm?"

"Got two hands."

His other hand is still cold, he knows it is, but that doesn't stop him from snaking it up your waist, under your sweater and tickling at your bare stomach. You crumple in on yourself, legs that had held you through orgasm buckling as you twitch and laugh into him, smacking your fists into his sturdy chest.

"Stop, stop! You ass- asshole! J-Joel! Stop it!"

He lets you taste the laugh on his lips, kissing you once more as his cold hand rests against your bare skin.

"C'mon, let's eat."

You end that day as it started, wrapped up together, oblivious to the world outside and warmer than you had any right to be in a snow storm.

By the fifth day, the storm has passed, and by the sixth the power is back on, just in time for the big day. You both barely notice, staying wrapped up and warm together over the holiday.

You return to your apartment in the New Year and, even though the power has been back on for days and the heat has been pumping steadily, the place has never felt so cold.

In the years to come, you'd ask Joel about that week - the first of a New Year, and the first without you after having you around for so long. He'd tell you how cold it felt, how empty his house was without you in it. And when you turn up on his doorstep at the end of that first week, sniffling and crying and telling him you missed him, he'll crumple, telling you he felt exactly the same before drawing you into his arms and pulling you inside.

And then, eventually, in a home that was his and is now yours, you'll be sat in warmth and sunshine - as unexpected to the you of back then as a snowball to the face - watching your combined families meet for a Christmas not turned on its head by a Texan snow storm.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

#pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #coveted fics

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lunajay33 · 3 months

Text

New World🍂Part.4

Summary: Things go wrong when you’re stuck on the highway and Daryl has been acting strange ever since you told him you loved him

Part.3

•Masterlist•

Along the way we had to ditch Daryl’s truck and now he was on his motorcycle leaving you to ride with Shane, but you all had to stop due to the road block and the RV breaking down……again

It’s been a hard few days the drive was tiring, a heard of walkers came threw and now Sophia was missing and people have been out looking for her for a day now, you were now out with Rick, Shane and Carl helping look when you came across a beautiful deer

You held carls hand as you both slowly approached the deer as we got closer he stood infront of you admiring the little magical moment as Shane and Rick watched

Then a bang was heard and you felt a boiling pain in your side, you looked down seeing blood quickly seeping from your shirt

You fell to the ground as Rick and Shane ran over putting pressure on your wound, you were so confused everything was a blur, the shouts your vision, everything

“What’s hap…happening?” Dazed you faintly heard another man approach then everything went dark

Feeling shaken you opened your eyes seeing Shane frantically running with you in his arms

“Ya hold on, we ain’t losing no one else ya hear me?”

You couldn’t answer nothing felt right

~~~~~~~~~

You woke up feeling hot, hair sticking to your face you tried to sit up but screamed out in pain

“You need to stay down dear” an older man said as he gently pushed me back down

“What happened, where am I?”

“You were shot, this is Hershel he’s gonna help you” you looked to your right to see Shane sitting by the bed, maybe Shane wasn’t that bad after all

“I need Daryl, please” you pleaded scared something might happen and you won’t have him in your finally moments

“I’ll find him” a girl in the corner said as she left the room

Then everything felt cold and you passed out again

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

Daryl’s pov

We were walking out in the woods lookin for Sophia when we heard a gun shot, there was a feeling in my chest that something happened but she was with Shane and Rick she should be fine and it was only one shot

We kept walking when a girl came riding up on a horse knocking out a walker

“Who’s Daryl?” She asked in a hurry

“Who’s askin?” How the hell did she know my name

“Y/n’s been shot you need to come with me” usually I wouldn’t trust this but she knew her name and I couldn’t risk it, I threw my bow over my shoulder and hoped on the horse

We rode off for a while till we came to an old farm house, rode right up to the front door where Rick and carl came out

I jumped off and tried pushing past to go in but Rick held me back

“What the hell happened?” I asked feeling angry, scared

“We were looking at a deer and Otis was tracking it, bullet went straight threw, grazed my shoulder and went right into her side” Carl explained

“She’s been in and out” Rick said as he led me inside to a room where she was laying, pale as snow, a sheen of sweat covered her skin

I sat my crossbow down and sat on the bed next to her, Shane was in the corner and a man with white hair was coming in

“Will she be okay?” I asked pushing her hair back

“She’s getting weak, her blood pressure is dropping, I’ve gotten a few fragments out but I can’t get some she’s lost too much blood”

“Giver mine, we’re the same, take it” I said ripping my shirt up readying for it

“Are you sure?”

I nodded as he came over and put the needle in, making me think about what’s happened between us lately

She told me she loved me, I didn’t say it back, don’t know why she’d say that, why would she love me she could hold out and wait for anyone, someone good she can’t love me…..no one can, and now I can barely look at her without feeling a tightness in my stomach, my heart clenching when I see her eyes full of worry

When the walkers came through the highway I couldn’t find her, all I heard was a scream and I thought she was gone and she would’ve died thinking I was…..well I don’t know what I feel but I know I can’t lose her

Hershel went on with the surgery now that she had the blood transfusion and stitched her up now I was just waiting for her to wake up….if she’d wake up

~~~~~~~~~

Normal pov

You woke up with a thumping headache and a sharp pain in your side, all the memories of what happened came flooding back, you looked around frantic but still so weak

No one was around so you got up slowly trying to maneuver yourself without ripping open your side, you managed to to get up and walk out to the front door, the fresh air was nice

You sat on the top step of the porch and let the air blow across your face cooling you down as you felt a lump in your throat

It’s been so hard lately, one thing after another keeps happening and you didn’t know how much longer you could take it

Tears slide down your cheeks and dropped onto your thighs, someone must have changed you cause you were in baggy shorts and an oversized shirt

You just felt like a burden to everyone now, you were looking for Sophia and you got injured and maybe she was out there dead now because everyone was too focused on you

You wiped your tears as you saw Daryl come walking towards the house, seeing tents were set up near by everyone must be here now

“The hell are ya doin out of bed?” He asked with a bit of anger to his voice

You didn’t answer, too tired mentally and physically you respond

“Y/n? Are ya okay?” You just shrugged finally looking at him

“Come on ya need to stay in bed” he said picking you up slowly and bringing you back inside to the bed

“I missed ya” he said as he sat next to you

“Why?” After his treatment and avoidance of you lately felt like he didn’t care anymore, he’s never done that to you before

“Why? Cause yer my best friend, yer all I got” he said confused

“Didn’t seem like that the past few days” you groaned as a pain shot from your side

“ ‘m sorry”

It was silent between you both as the tears welled again

“I’m tired Daryl, I’m so tired”

“Told ya, ya need to sleep”

“No, I’m tired, I should have stayed at the CDC with Jacqui, I don’t wanna do this anymore” you whined

“Don’t speak like that, I ain’ lettin ya give up, ya can’t, yer my person peach, please don’t leave me” he whispered as he felt a pain in his chest, seeing you like this for the first time trying to give up made his heart hurt

“I’m sorry D, im just scared, when I got shot all I could think about was you, how if I died you wouldn’t be there, how you were ignoring me and that would be our last memory, I just don’t wanna hurt anymore Daryl, I love you too much for you to ignore me” he wiped you tears away and held your cheek

“I luv ya too, I should’ve said it ‘fore, just never had someone love me like you do” he said as he leaned forward and placed a quick gentle kiss to your lips

It was a small kiss but a big step for him, he pulled back and you were both smiling

“Ya promise to never give up” he asked pleading

“I’ll try Dixon, for you I’ll try”

—///—///—///—///—///—///—

Part.5<-

If you wanna be a part of the taglist lmk in the comments and what you’d like to see more next in the story

Taglist: @thebadbatch2022 @deansapplepie @writer-ann-artist @ghostboneswrites

#daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #twd x reader #twd fluff #twd rick #twd michonne #twd negan #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon smut #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x reader

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my-own-walker · 8 months

Text

The World Turns All Around Her

@lili-tate says: We need a fic with daddy kit!!

note: i can do that! i know i said previously that i didn't want to write father!evan but i womaned up and decided to expand my horizons.

warnings: dad!kit, mom!reader (sorry to be so heteronormative, it was the 60s!), fluff, lowkey postpartum but mostly just exhausted mother, 1965 (you decide if the events of asylum happened or not)

My heart is so full of them, I can hardly call it my own.

Kit and Winnie. Winifred Eve Walker.

She just celebrated her first birthday and is proficient in babbling and repeating the sounds that come out of Kit and my mouths. She's close to walking, but not quite. She never quite crawled, actually.

I watch as she scoots across the floor, leading with one leg. It's almost as if she's trying to stand, favoring her right side, the bottom of her tiny foot slapping the floor as she slides along. Her left leg drags along, and her hands compensate for what she lacks in balance. Winnie settles next to her toy bin, which seems closer to a pile at the moment, and picks out a pastel pink rattle.

She cries out in joy as she shakes it, thoroughly enthused by the jingling of the beads inside. She Winnie-walks back over to me, sitting on the couch, and hands me the rattle. I know what she wants, so I do it.

I drop the toy onto the ground. "Uh oh!" I exclaim.

"Uh oh!" she repeats, picking up the rattle, clutching it tightly in her chubby little fist. She smiles up at me as she holds the object out to me once more.

Winnie has eight teeth so far. She's teething, which makes her a bit of a handful. But, seeing her toothy little grin staring up at me, complete with her big, twinkling eyes and round cheeks, makes it all worth it.

These little games, though, admittedly exhaust me. When she's not down for naps or eating, she and I get stuck in cycles of repetitive entertainment. Entertaining mostly for her. That's how babies are, though.

I love that she's grown to an age where she is more interactive, and more fun. Up until she was about six months old she just slept and ate, nothing else. Now, she loves to learn and play and try to talk. She's more mobile.

It's adorable. She's a lovable little person. Kit and I made her, and we wouldn't change a hair on her little head. But how active she is gets tiring.

"Beautiful girl!" I proclaim in a sing-songy voice, grabbing the rattle from her. I drop it again. It clatters to the wood floor loudly. "Uh oh," I call out.

"Uh oh," she echoes. Before she can repeat the cycle, though, I hear a car door close outside.

"Is that daddy?" I ask excitedly, my head stooping and my palms facing up. She grins back at me. "I think that's daddy!" I stand up, scooping her up into my arms in the same motion. I rest her on my hip as we venture through the house to the front door. She nibbles her hand as we go.

The door opens and a rush of cold air, along with Kit, comes through it. His expression brightens as soon as he sees us, his lips curled upward in a smile. "My gorgeous girls!" he exclaims.

He shuffles his feet on the mat by the door, knocking the snow off his boots before stepping forward into to house. He swings the door closed behind him and wraps his arms around the both of us. I kiss his cheek. It's icy cold from the brisk air outside. January in Massachusetts is as white as a rabbit's fur, with snow coloring every inch of ground.

Kit breaks his embrace and looks deeply into my eyes. His face, despite the cold, is as sunny as ever.

"How was your day?" I ask, adjusting Winnie's position on my hip.

"Great now that I've seen you two ladies," he chirps. "Here, lemme take her from ya." He reaches out for her and opens and closes his hands, like a child begging for more sweets.

"Don't you want to take your jacket off first? And your boots?" A subtle hint, yes, but I spent the entirety of Winnie's nap polishing the floors. I don't want him tracking wet slush in.

"Ah, right," he rasps, kicking his shoes off right next to the mat. They clunk down and around loudly. He shuffles to the coat closet and hangs his coat, smelling of tires and motor oil, up on the rail. "Now pass the little chickie over to Daddy." I hand a smiling Winnie to her father. He spins around and giggles with her, then holds her neck as he flips her upside down and back up again.

He repeats the action a few more times before disappearing into the living room with her.

I silently rejoice in the moment, happy to see my husband whisk the baby away so I could have time to finish cooking. I hear them playing, which usually consists of Kit talking away happily, replying to Winnie's oohs and ahhs as if they were having a real conversation.

After a bit of chopping and seasoning, I throw the prepared supper in the oven. I wipe my hands on my apron, untie it behind my back, and hang it on the hook on the wall next to the stove. I grab Winnie's bottle out of the water it was warming up in.

"Kit!" I call, walking through the house to the living room, bottle in hand. I pause in the doorway when I come upon the sight of the two of them. Kit has Winifred in his lap facing him. He sings to her softly:

"So if you tell her every day you love her And if you tell her everything she could be You'll find out that your world will turn around her"

"What a lovely song," I coo, astounded by the softness he's displaying.

He jumps and both of them turn to look at me. Winnie's smile is bigger than the whole sky. "Christ, you scared me," he breathed, a smile breaking across his whole face, reaching his eyebrows last.

"Dinner's ready," I say quietly, walking into the room to grab Winnie from him.

"Ah, ah," he tuts, "I got her." He stands, holding her high above his head before bringing her down and kissing her in a swift motion.

"You'll put her to bed?" I ask, eyebrow raised. I usually take bedtime duty, since he's the one who wakes up with her, changes her, and feeds her in the morning.

"Yes ma'am," he insists. He looks at Winnie and tickles her tummy, making her giggle in delight. "We think Mommy deserves a break, right?"

"Oh, Kit," I protest, holding out my arms once again to take her. "You worked hard all day. Go eat. I don't need a break."

He keeps his gaze locked on the baby. "Daddy wants to eat with mommy tonight," he murmurs. "Daddy doesn't mind. It means more time with his little princess."

I step forward and kiss his shoulder, resting my head on his arm promptly after. "I promise, I'm fine," I whisper, tired.

"Baby, you're tired, it's okay."

"Can I help at least? I don't want to sit at the dining room table alone waiting for you," I whine.

"Of course," he responds, kissing me softly on the top of my head. "I'm gonna do all the work, though."

I follow him into the nursery and stand next to him as she changes her into her pretty yellow pajamas. Then he sits down in the rocking chair, Winnie lying across his lap, in his arms comfortably. I hand him her bottle. She holds the bottle in both hands and drinks it cheerily.

"Which book should we read, Smiley?" Kit asks. "I think Where The Wild Things Are is a good choice."

I smile as he reads the story to the baby in a sing-song tone. His New England accent comes across so strongly as he reads. It makes a warm feeling spread through my chest and radiate through my body. It's an indescribable feeling of pride and love toward him.

Winnie is asleep within minutes. Kit catches the bottle as it slips out of her limp hands. "I think she's out," he whispers sweetly, looking up at me with only his eyes.

I nod with a small smile. He carries her over to her crib and lowers her down into it gingerly, careful not to wake her. We both exit the room gently, careful not to make any loud sounds.

"That's the fastest she's fallen asleep in a while," I remark as soon as we're far enough from her room. Kit follows closely behind me, hand on the small of my back.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, you've got the magic touch," I maintain. We make our way into the kitchen and I separate from him to tend to dinner. At least, I think I leave him until I feel arms snake around me. I turn and look up at him, a smirk painted on his face. "Would you like to eat?" I ask, mock-sternly.

"I can think of something else I'd like to eat instead, Y/N Walker," he purrs. Shivers crawl up my spine and light my skin on fire.

"I think I'd like that too Kit Walker."

WEEEEEEE i drew upon my, like, one experience with a baby to write this i hope you liked it

#evan peters #evan peters fic #me talking #ahs #evan peters x reader #evan peters x female reader #kit walker #kit walker x reader #kit walker imagine #kit walker ahs #ahs asylum #evan peters oneshot

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euphoricfilter · 1 year

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬:

pairing: boyfriend! jungkook x gn! reader

genre: fluff || established relationship

summary: it’s not often your boyfriend calls you with a cryptic message to come over; especially when he’s meant to be at his parents’ place for the holidays.

word count: 3k

tags/ warnings: just fluff and a ton of kisses

notes: i was all in my feels and just wanted soft boyfriend jk

my full masterlist

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you watch your warped body from the reflection of the television; knees pulled close to your chest. hot water bottle stuffed under your sweater, close to scalding but you revel in the heat that extends over the expanse of your stomach; heat tickling your skin.

inches of pure, untampered snow blanket the ground in white outside your apartment window. a true winter wonderland housing the giggles of children— echoing, haunting, as they glide over cobblestone paths glazed in a thick layer of ice in beaten up ice skates. elbows bruised but smiles bright as they tumble into one another.

you felt like scrooge, and for once you could sympathize with his dismissal of the holidays. because what was there to be excited about when all your plans had be ruined by the bad weather?

all trains over the next couple of days had been cancelled due to ice on the tracks and not enough men to clear the snow, and now you were stuck, moping around your apartment by yourself as the rest of your family enjoy christmas together.

you flinch when your phone buzzes, hands patting around under the blankets blindly.

“hello?” you can’t help the smile the tugs at the corners of your lips.

“baby, can you come over?”

and jungkook hangs up on you.

you blink down at your screen, disbelief etched into your features at his cryptic message.

jeon jungkook was ever the dramatic but your boyfriend had never hung up so quickly. if anything the two of your would be on call for a few hours before he even dared hang up on you. even then he’d be the one to ask you to hang up, otherwise you think you’d hold the world record for the worlds longest phone call.

you tap on his contact, call sending you straight to voice mail. fingers running over your bottom lip in thought.

stumbling over the carpet, you tug your coat off the back of the door, socks bunching up uncomfortably as you shove your boots on, laces tucked into the sides before you’re fumbling around the living room looking for your front door keys.

on any other day you would have probably giggled at your boyfriend’s antics. maybe played along until he’d press a plethora of kisses over your face until you had to physically peel his body away from your own; melded together until limbs become one and heartbeats in sync.

except, he was meant to be at his parents house for the holidays and in no way, shape, or form should he be at his apartment with only a few days left until christmas day when he was meant to be arriving today. calling you this evening to inform you of his safe arrival and maybe a quick hello from his mother.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

you blink up at jungkook when he pulls the door to his apartment open, gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips as you look at him with pure confusion. head tilting cutely that he can’t help but coo at you, fingers itching to hold you close to his chest— the only thing stopping him, the snow that caked the top of your shoulders, lashes wet from melted ice and his favorite christmas pyjamas soaking through with the wet weather outside.

“i thought you were going to your parents’ place?” you ask him.

jungkook simply ushers your into his apartment, door clicking shut behind the two of you as his warm hands cup your cheeks. he leans down, lips pressing over your red nose and chilly cheeks. though you think your cheeks flush for other reasons than the cold as he continues to press his lips over the expanse of your face.

“all the roads are closed so i couldn’t get out of the city yesterday” he explains, helping you pull your coat off, larger hands engulfing yours as he tries to warm them up; tips of your fingers numb from the cold. and you can’t help the smile on your face as he holds both of your hands over the heater.

“why didn’t you call me?” your voice is muffled as he tugs your face into his chest.

“wanted to surprise you” he rocks the two of you back and forth.

“you scared me, kook. thought something bad happened when you called” you pull your face away from his chest, lips turned down in a frown that jungkook kisses away.

“sorry, baby. i couldn’t wait to see you” his head tips back in laughter and you simply sigh.

your gaze travels over the boxes that cover the floor of your boyfriend’s living room.

“what’s all this?” you ask, arms snaking around jungkook’s waist.

“christmas decorations. i thought we could make the place festive and spend the holidays together since we can’t go home” he cranes his neck.

“together?” you blink.

“why’re you pouting?” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

“that’s really sweet of you”

“i’m always sweet” he argues, pulling you into the living room; where the two of you fall onto the floor between the scattered boxes.

“yeah, but where exactly did you get all of this stuff?” you turn to him, absolutely baffled as to where he could have kept all these decorations.

“i went out to buy them yesterday” he pulls you closer to him by your ankles, thumbs brushing over the bare skin from where your pyjama pants had ridden up.

“all of this?” your mouth falls open and jungkook nods, hair bobbing cutely that your hands can’t help but push his bangs from his forehead.

jungkook leans into your touch as you tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. your heart swelling with unadulterated love for the man sat before you.

“mhmm” he smiles, “i know how much you like christmas, and i know you’re kinda bummed out about not seeing your parents. so i thought we could get in the christmas spirit?”

“you really did all of this, for me?” you whisper and jungkook pulls you between him legs, head resting atop of yours.

“of course, baby. better than spending it alone” he tilts your head up, fingers squishing your cheeks together as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“i got a real tree too, it’s on the balcony. i’ll go get it” he picks you up from underneath your arms, placing you on the floor beside him before he’s slinking into the back bedroom-made-studio.

you watch as he drags a tree into the room by the plastic pot, pine needles dropping onto the floor.

“careful” you giggle, watching the top of the tree catch on the doorframe.

“oh shit” jungkook pauses, standing at full height to check for any damage.

“do you want some help?” you ask him, pushing yourself up off the floor.

“i wanted to be super cool and do it alone. but i guess you can help” he sighs, “i’ll take the other end though so you don’t prick your hands”

“you’re still super cool” you skip towards him, using his shoulder as leverage as you stand on the tips of your toes, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“but i’m meant to be your buff boyfriend who can do anything” he sulks as he squeezes between the tree and door, knocking his elbow on the handle.

“you are my buff boyfriend” you giggle, “who has a girlfriend that likes to help him sometimes”

“i guess if you don’t mind helping” you can hear the pout in his voice, body hidden behind the christmas tree.

“how did you even get this onto the balcony in the first place?” you ask when you feel him tip the tree towards his body, muscles in your arms flexing when you tilt the pot towards jungkook.

“the guy at the tree place helped me, it barely fit in the elevator” he huffs, and you can only imagine the thick muscles of his back, taught under his shirt as he carries majority of the tree’s weight.

“why didn’t you just buy a smaller tree, kook?” you snigger, dropping the pot back to the floor when you both reach the middle of the living room.

“alright baby, leave the rest to me. can’t have you with a sore back at christmas” he grins at you.

“where should we put it?”

jungkook’s hands fall onto his hips as he scans the expanse of the living room.

“if we move that lamp, that corner should be fine” he nods, more to himself than you, “can you move it for me, darling?”

you hum, unplugging the lamp from the wall before you’re dragging it across the room; where it’s new temporary home will be, a problem the both of you will face later.

you start rummaging through the boxes as jungkook starts turning the tree until he’d found the side he liked most before turning to you with a triumphant smile.

“i got pretty lights” he kneels down beside you, the both of you sat knee-to-knee as you begin to untangle the wires.

“ah!” he holds onto your shoulders, “wait here, don’t do anything without me” he calls over his shoulder as he disappears into his bedroom.

“okay” you whisper to yourself, dull patter of his feet on the floor carrying into the living room as he meanders around his room.

he’s back beside you in no time, speaker in one hand and phone in the other. you watch as he fiddles around with a few buttons, watching his smile grow when he connect to the bluetooth speaker before he’s scrolling through his phone.

you can’t help your own smile when a classic christmas playlist echos through the speakers into the living room, jungkook’s hands grabbing your own— fingers intertwining with yours as he helps you up from the floor.

he spins you before you’re tumbling into his chest, strong arms wrapping around your shoulders as he waltzes the two of you towards the christmas tree, “what colour lights? i bought so many so whatever doesn’t go on the tree we can use around the house”

“shouldn’t we come up with a theme for the tree? my mum only likes red and gold on our one at home” you look up at jungkook, top of your head bumping his chin and he laughs.

“i thought we could shove a bunch of shit on it and hope for the best” his hands find your face, both your bodies swaying to the music. you smile into the kiss as jungkook presses him lips firmly against your own.

“that works too” you whisper, lips still touching as neither of you make a move to pull away.

“rainbow lights then?”

“rainbow lights” you giggle and jungkook swoons. he squeezes you close before he’s letting go. body still drifting in time with the music as picks out the colourful lights, handing you one set while he takes hold of the other.

“you go bottom and i’ll go top? then we can meet in the middle” he nods.

“okay!”

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“it kind of looks like an elf shat in the corner of the room” you mutter, both your arms touching as you stand there, taking in the tree.

you didn’t hate it. it was clear jungkook had spent hours walking around the mall trying to find baubles that were both to his taste and your own; a mixture of designs all shoved onto one tree.

two souls ever so different but somehow still complimented one another in an odd way that seemed to just make sense. your tree a tangled mess of both of your love, kisses shared under faux holly and fingers itching to touch bare skin as you giggle at funny looking baubles and cheesy christmas lyrics that jungkook croons— swinging both your bodies around the living room until you’re both dizzy and high off love and adoration for one another.

“in a good way?” he turns to you, eyes conveying his own mixed feeling. your lips quirk up at that; surprised he hadn’t asked you to strip the tree and try again, ever the perfectionist.

“considering we’ve never actually decorated a tree together before, without supervision from your mother… it’s not awful?”

“no?”

“no” you nod.

“star or angel?”

you mourn the loss of his body heat as he rummages through a bag, pulling both out for you to inspect.

“angel” you outstretch your hand, ready to grab it. only you blink up at jungkook when he places hand in your own.

“want me to lift you up?” he asks, and you tilt your head in thought.

“i think i can reach from the couch, hold my hand though, just in case”

and he does, never letting go as you push yourself onto the arm of the sofa, back arching as you try to avoid getting pricked by the little pine needles.

jungkook helps you back onto the floor without much issue, you falling into his chest and you can’t help the grin that pulls at your cheeks when his arms squeeze around you.

“well done, baby” the praise causing your cheeks to flush pink; whining when jungkook leans down to press a kiss onto the heated skin.

“wanna go get some stuff from the bakery down the road? i heard they have festive cakes” jungkook rocks the two of you back and forth. “and then we can decorate the rest of the house”

“did i leave any of my clothes here? an old woman gave me a weird look when she saw my festive pyjamas” you stare down at what you’re wearing, too worried earlier on to even think of changing before you got to jungkook’s place.

“what’s wrong with festive pyjamas?” he complains, eyes widening, “hey baby? wait here” he presses another kiss to your forehead before he’s scuttling back into his bedroom.

“it’s an early gift” he tells you, placing the bag in your lap once he’d gotten you to sit down.

“i left my gifts for you at my place, maybe we can pick it up later? and then we can put them under the tree” you look up at him hopeful, and jungkook nods; kneeling on the floor before you.

you carefully open the bag, a giggle bubbling up your throat when you see what’s inside.

“we can be matching now” jungkook’s smile is contagious. you place the bag beside you on the couch, slipping onto the floor in front of jungkook.

his head falls into your neck as your arms wrap around him.

“thank you”

“for what?” his breath tickles your skin.

“making my christmas less shitty”

“i told you i couldn’t get home anyways, might as well spend the holidays with my favorite person” he shrugs, pulling his head away from your neck, “now lets get changed and we can march to the bakery in matching sweaters” he announces.

you tug you own festive night clothes off, jungkook helping you tug the sweater on, an easy excuse for his hands to run over your skin. you let him, more than used to him running eager fingers over any expanse of you he can get. pure love shared through gentle touches and gentle kisses.

and you do the same for him, marveling at the expanse of his back as he tugs his own christmas sweater on. your hands running over his arms; appreciation of his dedication to the gym.

you can’t help the laugh you let out when you catch a glance of the two of you in the mirror; jungkook’s smile matching your own.

“i think we look great” he nods, hand gentle as it grasp one of your own, watching as you give him a twirl.

“my pretty baby” he coos, hands cupping your face and you simply pout as he kisses your nose, his own nose scrunching when he leans down to press another to your lips.

“i think we’re ready” he nods, pulling both of your coats off the hook, and you whisper a ‘thank you’ when he helps zip up your coat.

“and a scarf for the lady” he helps wrap it around your neck.

your fingers interlock like second nature, arms swung happily between the two of you as snow crunches beneath your feet.

jungkook can’t help but be enamored by you, watching as you waddle a little; always wary of the icy floor— though he’d catch you if you ever really fell. the romantic inside of him liking the idea of being your knight in shining armour, even if his enemy was the iced over floor.

“are your parents disappointed you couldn’t make it?” he asks, hands on your shoulders as he expertly maneuvers the two of you around a group of people.

“i think a little upset, but they understand” you tell him, “are you sad you can’t go home?”

jungkook shrugs, “cant be helped if the weather sucks”

you hum at that, hand falling into his own as your steps fall in line with one another once again.

jungkook’s fingers feel numb as he pulls down the handle to the bakery, “why don’t you go order, i have to call someone” he nods towards the desk and you smile.

“anything you want?” you ask him, watching as he pulls his phone from his pocket.

“nope. get whatever looks good” he bends down, another kiss to your lips before he’s ushering you to look around.

he swipes across his phone screen, accepting the incoming call.

“mama? hey— i won’t be able to make it to christmas this year—“ he bites his bottom lip, “no, nothing like that, something came up and i don’t want y/n spending the holidays alone”

jungkook’s nose scrunched up cutely, waving at you when you smile over at him, “i love you too, i’ll see you new year?”

“okay, i got a quite a few things” you hand him the bag when the two of you get outside, “and look” you pull two cookies out of your pocket.

“they’re cute” he nods, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck; careful not to choke you. worried you’d catch a cold, you always had felt it a lot harsher than he had— and maybe he’ll buy you a new pair of earmuffs for christmas. after bam had chewed your old pair, he can see the tips of your ears flushing red from the bitter weather. harsh winter wind tugging you around and jungkook would worry you’d be knocked over if his grip on your hand wasn’t so tight.

“which one do you want? i have santa and a christmas tree”

“tree, please”

you pull the wrapper open for him, taking a bite out of your own cookie.

you eye the tree, smidge of green frosting coating his lips and jungkook turns his head towards you when he feels your eyes glued to his face.

“what’s the matter?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

his eyes flit down to where you’d bitten into the cookie, his gaze travelling to his own sweet treat.

“do you want this one, darling?” he tilts his head, watching you bite your bottom lip.

“yes, please” you smile up at him sheepishly.

you swap cookies, content smile on your face and jungkook can’t help the overflowing amount of love that thrums through his body when he looks at you.

“i love you” he announces, startling you a little.

“i love you” you smile up at him, both of you stood outside the entrance of his apartment, wispy flecks of snow starting to fall out the sky, feather-like as they dance in tandem with one another, falling over you and jungkook.

“i love you more” he takes both your hands in his own.

“liar. i love you more” you challenge, any other words dying on your tongue when he leans down; lips pressing firmly against your own. a low rumble in his chest as his tongue flicks over your lips, sweet frosting coating his tastebuds.

but no matter how sweet the cookie was, jungkook thinks you taste sweeter; always so gentle and always a little unsure of yourself.

“merry christmas, jungkook” you whisper, eyes slowly fluttering open.

jungkook leaves another peck on your cheek,“merry christmas, my love”

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts x reader #bts imagines

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kiradrabbles · 1 month

Text

Love story - yandere ticci toby x reader chapter 1

cw: stalking, obsessive behaviour, graphic depictions of violence (no shit), and Toby being a total freaky weirdo. Not explicit non-con yet.

No good deed ever goes unpunished. One late night trip to a convenience store you decide to help a man who knocks over some cans. Toby can't get his mind off you, now. And when he finally finds something that helps him get his mind off the raging in his head and the operators grasp on him, he won't let it go.

AKA. Toby is delusional, horny, and totally obsessed with you. Without further adieu... with a horrendous word count of 4000+....

Chapter 1: Meet cute

To say toby had no idea when his infatuation with you started would be a lie, he knew exactly when it started. He knew it down to the hour, the minute, the second. How could he forget the moment he met you after all? It was like a romance, one of those rom-com meet cutes. His own sappy love story with his own perfectly happy ending.

It was a cold night, he couldn't precisely remember the time, sure, but he knew the stars were up in the sky, and that it was the midst of winter as there was snow dusting the ground. Colorado's winters were cold - and as it was cold, Toby got stuck with doing the supply runs. As was apparently "fair". Because of his CIPA he couldn't feel cold (or heat), which meant any time the weather conditions were slightly less-than desirable it was his job to go half-buy half-shoplift the food the mansions residents needed for the next few days. At least, those that didn't eat human flesh.

Not that he really minded. He'd take any chance he could to get out of the mansion for a while, taking Tim's car - an old beaten up Land Rover they had stolen from a victim years ago - and speeding along the highways to the nearest store. Well, not speeding. He was always cautious in cars - he had his reasons.

And it was in one of those convenience stores where he first saw you, memory engraved into his mind forevermore.

You were beautiful that was for sure. Specks of snow sprinkled over your hair and face, light glinting off them as you made your way into the store, still shivering from the cold as you stopped in you tracks, soaking in the sudden warmth. The harsh lighting just seemed to frame you, like a halo of sorts, a spotlight sending his attention screaming to you. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Something about you distracted him, If just for a second, from the chaos in his head. The voices and the constant war of emotions died down, to make room for a new emotion. One he hadn't felt in years.

Love.

Toby knew it was love - what else could it be? His heart was pounding in his chest, he felt giddy with what must be affection as he stared at you. He wasn't used to the feeling, but what he knew was it was better than any temporary high his missions could give him, sharp as an axe and twice the rush.

You must have noticed his staring, because by the time he came to his senses and focused again you had met his gaze, head tilted with a nervous half-smile on your perfect face. He had made you smile. A nervous one, but yet a smile, nonetheless.

A sharp crack sounded as his neck jerked, bringing him screeching back to reality, breaking the eye contact and bringing his gaze down to his poorly bandaged hands. Oh, how he wished he dressed better.

He hadn't even bothered to throw on a bandage on his face to cover his gash, instead opting for a single-use blue face mask Jack had lying around. The hoodie he was donned had thumb holes ripped into the cuffs, and he hoped like hell it wasn't one of the ones with obnoxious blood stains. He couldn’t see any on the front, but he would not put it past him to somehow have some sprayed on his back, he got pretty.. Brutal when in the zone.

The next time he looked back to you, you were bent over a little, looking down at some energy drinks. He allowed his eyes to drift over you, taking in everything. Before he could take out his phone and take a photo - not in a strange way, of course, just to remember the occasion - he ticced. At the most inconvenient time possible, naturally. 'Birdie!' he chirped out, followed by a bird whistle, which sent you looking behind yourself in startled confusion, and Toby's gaze to his hands once again.

He continued skirting around you for the next minute or so, before it happened. He was kneeled down, looking at the drinks you were looking at before, imagining sharing one with you, hands brushing each other’s. Toby could finish it in one gulp, seeing you pout, then cup your face and kiss it into your mouth, watching you squeal and close your eyes, lean into him. Some might argue this was too soon, or strange to imagine, but Toby knew it wasn't. He was in love with you, after all, so it was normal.

He was brought out of those pleasant daydreams by a loud clatter, looking down. He'd knocked some drinks off the shelf.

"Fuh-fuck." he cursed quietly

He reached down to fetch them, but someone got to it first - you got to it first. Your hands were so small as they picked it up, he wanted to cup them in his hands and kiss them, feel your soft skin against his own, callous and scarred.

"Th-thanks" he muttered, looking down at you again as he rose up to his full hight, a few inches taller than you are. "S-sorry about that, I have tour- wow! - Tourette’s. I have Tourette’s."

"It's fine" you gave a little smile, nervously picking at your hands. "Don't worry about it."

The first thing that struck him was your voice. It was.. Perfect. It suited you perfectly. He wanted to play it on loop, set it as his ringtone, his new favourite song.

The second? You didn't judge him for his Tourette’s. Of course, you didn't, you were perfect. You were made for him; you wouldn't judge him for anything like that. You weren't like anybody else. He wanted then more than anything to take you in his arms right there, lift you up and take you back to the mansion, to his room, hide you from the rest of the world, have you all to himself. Instead, he waited behind you at the checkout, taking in the faint smell of you, trying to keep a handle on his ticcing and twitching, at least when you were there.

When it was his turn he barely looked at the cashier, slapping a wad of cash on the table and watching him sort through it, bowing his head a little under tobies harsh gaze, snatching the change as soon as it was handed to him. He couldn't lose you, let you get too far, he had to keep track of you.

He tracked you like he would a victim, trailing behind you in the Land Rover, just far behind enough you wouldn't register it, a few cars back. He followed you to an apartment block, parking across the road, watching as you exited the car, oblivious to the eyes of your future lover trailing you.

Thankfully for him you were on the first floor, obvious from the way light visible in one of the windows turned on a few seconds after you entered the building. He made a mental note of the room you stayed in and pulled out from the car park, making his way back to the mansion. It would be suspicious if he came back too late. He would come back for you, though. He had to.

And that he did. He started with simple things, waiting outside the apartment for you to leave and trailing you, learning your routines, your most visited locations, anything about you he could pick up. You liked to read, adorable. He would love to read with you, having your tiny form on his lap, book in hand, resting against him. But until then he would settle for entering the bookstore after you, trailing his hands over the shelves he knew you touched.

It was through this book-store that he finally found your name. His lovers name. He was skulking around the shelves just out of your view, watching you, and occasionally taking a quick photo, with the new phone he had recently brought. More modern than the last one - not just because he needed a better one to film you with, but the decent camera really didn't hurt.

Not in a creepy, stalker way of course. He was sure if he sat down and asked you, you really wouldn't mind.

"Oh, Sidney!" You called, waving to a girl at the counter. You knew her? "Hey!"

"Oh, hey [Y/N]."

[Y/N]. That was your name. His [Y/N], soon to be [Y/N] Rogers. He felt giddy with delight.

He didn't stop there, either. As time passed, as he memorised your routine, the shitty movie theatre you worked at, your favourite stores and café's and places to be, he started to know when you would and wouldn't be in your apartment. And what good proxy didn’t know how to lockpick?

Your apartment smelt like you, that was the first thing that struck him. A light, airy sort of scent, that he just couldn't get enough of. He found himself leaning down, opening a drawer and taking a long sniff. It looked like mostly fresh laundry, hoodies and shorts.

He had time; he knew that much. You wouldn't return from your job at that crappy local movie theatre for at least another 3 hours. It was a decent enough job, he supposed, though his skin crawled at the thought of you getting hit on or yelled at by customers. He had had half a mind to follow you and wait just outside, to give anyone who gave you a hard time or even looked at you funny a piece of his mind. He refrained, for now however, deciding instead to make the most of his time and spending it getting as close to you as physically possible. Speaking of close..

As he rummaged through your drawers, he came across one with more.. Intimate content. Underwear, it looked like. Your underwear. He reached his hands into the dresser, taking out a bra almost reverently. This had touched your skin, and not just your skin. Your breasts. He was indirectly touching your breasts. His face was burning and his heart was pounding as he held it, grinning so wide it would have hurt if he could feel pain.

He set it back down in the drawer as another thing caught his eye, what looked like a matching set. Lacy black panties and a skimpy black bra. He hadn't imagine you'd own something like that, but he wasn't complaining. Quite the opposite in fact. He'd ask you to wear it for him when you two were together, but for now, his imagination would suffice. He stuffed a pair of panties he was sure you wouldn't miss into your pocket, and turned to look at the rest of the room.

Over the next week or so, he made himself at home when you weren't there. It was as if he was your lover, your live in boyfriend. He used your toothbrush, laid in your bed, next to where you would lay, imagining your sleeping form lying next to his. He 'borrowed' your clothes and rummaged through your bins, and even killed those racoons that had been raiding your bins for you. He did feel a little bad for the beasts, but anything that inconvenienced his love could not be tolerated.

As a testament to his own self-control, he managed to prevent himself from hiding in your closet and watching you sleep for the majority of the days, no matter how tempting it was. That was, until, you tripped and hurt your ankle on the way to work. And since he could hardly pick you up and kiss you and take care of you, he would do the next best thing. Stick around and make sure you were okay.

That was all he was doing, he told himself, as he shut the door on himself, leaving a good 30 minute window for you to get back. He was being a good boyfriend.

The closet wasn't quite spacious by any means, but he fit fine, If his legs were bent at a weird angle. What did it matter? It wasn't as if he could feel them cramping, and even if he could, it would be worth it to be so close to his beloved. Perhaps it was stupid, reckless. What if he ticced and alerted you? What if you ran, or called the police? Nevertheless love clouded over his logic and better judgement, and so he stayed.

He was euphoric when you got back, not even casting a glance at the usually empty closet. He peered through the gap in the door with wide, enraptured eyes as you continued your daily routine. He stayed staring as you sat on your laptop, and especially as you changed into more comfortable clothes, facing directly at him. It was hard to tell whether the pounding of his heart in his throat and his shaking hands as he took the phone out were nerves at the thought of being seen, or excitement at seeing you so bare in front of him, in just your underwear.

When he felt the tightness in his pants, he decided it was the latter.

-o0o-

Over the next few days, he became a regular in your closet too. Spending the night in the mansion became a rarity that he only happened to do when he came back from a late night mission and needed a shower and change of clothes. He preferred being with you, of course, no one enjoys being away from their partner.

The winter was fading by the time he worked up the balls to talk to you again. You were at work in the movie theatre, and he decided he would visit you. He would charm you, and ask you for your number, he had it all planned out.

He donned the best clothing he could find in his closet - a Black turtleneck instead of his usual scrappy hoodies, some trousers, he'd shined his boots, and even worn some cologne! He'd stolen it from a victim previously, and until now, he never had a reason to wear it. He gave himself one last cursory glance in the mirror on the way out, checking his hair wasn't as unruly as usual and that his gash was covered, and left.

The movie theatre wasn't too busy, he was relieved to see. There were only two people on cashier duty, you, and another girl. Most people were in her queue, he noted. She looked pretty, he supposed that was the reason why.

Idiots. Why even look at her when they could be blinded by the perfection that was you? Although, internally he was glad really. Less competition.

He tried to seem as casual as possible as he strode in, taking his place in your line, behind what looked like a young couple. How ironic, Toby thought, that he was behind a couple. That was what they were about to be. In love, holding hands, giving each other knowing glances and kisses on the cheeks.

When it was his turn, he walked up to you, jerking his neck and giving a nervous smile, trying and failing to seem like some confident heartthrob.

"Oh, hey, I know you" You spoke, returning his smile. You remembered him. Had you been thinking about him too? "You're uh.. Convenience store guy, right?"

"Y-yeah, that's me. Hey."

"Hey" If you continued smiling like that at him he might just turn into mush in front of you. "What can I get for ya?"

"Oh, uh.." He looked up at the digital signage showing the movies on, deciding on some generic looking horror movie "H-how’s 'The - wow! - the Blackcoats daughter'?"

"One ticket for the Blackcoats, alright. Anything else I can get for you sir?"

"Muh-my names Toby, not sir" He stuttered out, earning a little laugh from you that made his heart soar "One B-bucket of popcorn please? L-large"

"That was horrible. I'm [Y/N]. " you respond, before you turn around, perfect hair swishing behind you as you start to fill up a box of popcorn for him. Now was his chance. C'mon Toby, c'mon- She remembered him, she must like him too.

"O-oh, and I forgot one - birdie - one thing."

"Hm?" You turn and face him again

"c-could I get your number? To g-go." He gave you the most charming smile he could muster, though It most likely ended up looking like a begging puppy, desperate for a treat.

You were surprised for a second, blinking a couple of times, before he could see your face flush the prettiest pink you'd ever seen, opening your mouth for a second, searching for a response. You seemed flustered - he made you flustered. God, you were so cute it made him ache. "W-well, sure, do you want me to write it down, or..?"

"I-I have a phone, hang on" He fished his phone out of his pocket, quickly checking his photos app was shut. It would be unfortunate if you saw just how much he adored you quite yet.

You took the phone and typed it in, naming your contact '[Y/N] :)', before handing the phone back. As he took it, your fingers brushed his, and he could of sworn he felt actual electricity pass through you, fingertips tingling where he left yours.

He sent a little text 'Hi, it's toby :)' to test you hadn't given him the wrong number by mistake, smiling even wider when your phone gave an affirmative chime, his bandage over his mouth crinkling a little.

"T-thanks" He managed, sure his voice sounded positively giddy with delight.

"No problem" You smiled back at him "Have a good view!"

He took his ticket and popcorn, and in his excitement, strode out of the movie theatre entirely, forgetting the movie he'd brought. His head was far too full of thoughts of his beloved.

-o0o-

As much as he longed to spend another night with you, that day he had a mission to attend to. It didn't dampen his mood however, he didn't think anything could. He got your number. You liked him! You had to, why else would you give it to him? He was so excited he was practically vibrating.

He swung one of his hatchets over his shoulder, practically skipping down the hall and out the door to where Tim and Brian were waiting to murk some oblivious camper who had decided to set up camp in the forest.

"Someone's in a good mood" Tim spoke with his southern drawl, flicking his cigarette butt onto the forest floor and crushing it with the heel of his boot, before taking his mask and covering his face fully once again, letting out a tired sigh. He was one of the few proxies who didn't take much joy in killing.

Toby just nodded. He sure was.

Brian was silent, striding ahead of them, presumably in the direction of their latest victims. His AK-47 strapped to his back, and the baclava with the odd looking frown already donned.

"Hoodies frontin'" Tim spoke, explaining the silence from the man, as he followed along. Hoodie was generally non-verbal, so it didn't surprise him.

Toby had trouble concentrating, on the walk to the campsite. His mind kept drifting to you. More than once Tim had caught him taking his phone out and glancing at the screen. He was just checking if you'd responded to his text, even though he assumed you wouldn't until your shift was over.

"Waiting for somethin'?" Tim spoke, briefly pausing his walk to look at Toby

"Nuh-nothing."

Their short interaction was interrupted by Hoodie holding his hand up to silence them, pointing to a tent in the woods a little way ahead of them. It looked to be a family of three. A father, a daughter, and a Wife. All easy enough targets, no visible weapons save for the pen-knife on one of the logs. That wouldn't be even close to a match for one of them, let alone all three.

"We'll each take one" Tim said, breaking the silence, earning a nod from Hoodie and a 'yep' from Toby. It was go time.

Toby started to walk over slowly, before stopping, just before they noticed him, wet leaves making soft sounds under his feet. He readied his hatchet, holding it behind his head. Three, two, one..

Thwack.

The hatchet landed where he wanted it with a wet thud, buried halfway through the mans forearm. Sure, he could have gone for the head, but he hardly felt like a quick kill. He needed a way to vent out all his excitement, after all.

The man was shocked to the point he couldn't move, eyes wide and staring in horror at his now half-attacked limb, nerves severed, falling limp in front of him with Toby's axe still lodged in. Toby himself let out a manic 'whoop whoop!', the adrenaline of the kill finally kicking in.

The shrill, terrified scream of the child was cut short by the echoing sound of a shot, and Toby watched as a round buried itself in her forehead. Hoodie, always the efficient one.

And then the man stood up, lunging for the knife, and his tunnel vision kicked in, as he sprinted to him, remaining hatchet in hand. It was somewhat impressive, Toby noted, he could even stand losing that much blood at once. Nevertheless, he wouldn't be standing much longer, as Toby barrelled at him full speed, sending the two of them sprawling into the ground, leaves flying up in a shower as they thudded down.

Toby came to his senses first, raising himself up, hatchet behind his head, grinning like the maniac that he was. Thud. Crack. The sweet sound of ribs crunching under his hatchet. He looked down, watching the way the blood squirted and pooled on the still-screaming mans chest. Again. Thwack. Crack. More blood, more screams. He was vaguely aware of it splashing his face as he licked his lips, acknowledging the familiar copper tang against his tongue.

In a sudden show of theatrics he dropped the axe to his side, bending down over the rib-cage and tearing the ribcage apart, the muscle and sinew nothing compared to his advanced strength. With a tear they were out of the way, strew either side of the now motionless corpse of the man. He plunged his hand into his chest, searching around in the guts, which were slippery with blood, before coming across what he wanted. The heart.

With a swift flick of his wrist he plucked the heart out of the mans chest, watching as it beat in his tight grip. He held it up, briefly considering gifting it to you. He could buy you some flowers and turn up at your door, blood-stained from head to toe, and present them to you.

"I killed him because I love you!" He'd say, and you'd swoon and fall into his arms and kiss him as he carried you back.

As oblivious as he was, he wasn't so stupid as to actually think your reaction would be so eager, casting the thought away. He snorted, throwing the heart so it hit the back of Tim, who was standing over the woman’s body, her neck neatly broken.

He spun around "Don't do that shit, Toby!"

Toby just giggled, righting himself and kicking the head of the body, watching it loll. As he stood up, he noticed something sticking out of his torso. Was that..? He pulled it out, and sure enough, there was the knife the guy had. Huh, he actually landed a hit. Kudos to him. The knife was discarded on the ground.

Hoodie cleared his throat, beckoning them to follow him back to the mansion, and so they did, in mostly silence. Tim neglected to point out Toby's incessant phone checking this time, thankfully.

He made his way back to the mansion, avoiding most of it's residents other than a quick scratch of Smile Dog. Locking the door to his room, stripping down and dumping his axes on his bed along with his phone, glancing down at where the knife had wounded him. Sure enough, it was already starting to scab up. One benefit of being a proxy was it was really, really hard to get hurt.

He slipped into the shower, not bothering to change the temperature on the water. He couldn't feel it after all, why bother?

By the time he'd gotten out, less than 10 minutes later, he chucked a towel round himself, not bothering to comb his mop of hair. He'd gotten all the blood out of it, that was good enough.

He leant over, dripping water on his bedsheets and dirty clothes, to check the phone. He beamed, looking down at the notification on the home screen, Letting out a content kind of sigh. He swept the bloody clothes and axes off the bed, dropping the towel on the floor and crawling in, not bothering to get dressed. He was too excited to talk to you now, what did that matter?

'Hey :)' You'd said, followed by 'Sorry the response was late, was still at work'

He briefly debated his response, before settling with a simple 'It's fine :)'

'How are you?'

'I'm good' he paused, he didn't want to seem too dry. 'Just been working out.' Well.. It was just a little lie, really. All that running and killing counted as exercise, surely.

He talked to you for almost a whole hour, kicking his legs like a schoolgirl every time you'd responded to him. He'd asked about your favourite book series, grinning as wide as he could when you infodumped to him. You felt close enough to share this with him! He was over the moon.

Eventually it came to an end as all good things do and you said goodnight, telling him you had work the next morning. And you needed to rest. He knew. It was cute you wanted to tell him though, like you cared, wanted to make sure he didn't feel like he was being ignored. You were so considerate; his lover was so cute.

He turned out the lights, laying on his side with the phone, scrolling through the pictures and videos he had of you. It had become a nightly routine whenever he was in the mansion, to help you feel closer to him.

He came across a photo he had recently taken - you in that matching black set he'd found when he first broke into your apartment. You were trying it on in the mirror, and holy shit, you looked perfect. The most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes on. Even now, in a slightly grainy image taken through the drawer of a cupboard, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Sure enough, he felt a familiar feeling in his lower stomach, looking down. He could spare a few minutes before he went to bed.

#ticci toby x reader #ticci toby #creepypasta #fic #cw he's a weirdo

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blood-grove · 2 months

Text

The Hunt

part 1 -> next hunt

x tws; violence , blood , injuries , gore , slight suggestiveness , sickness. <- more will be added possible depending on the part.

x pairings; soap x male!reader (😲)

x characters; soap , ghost , price , gaz + (others will maybe be added? idk ive never written a whole lot of characters cuz i get confused in my own head)

a/n; i may make art for this series! and i will also possibly making art for my merfolk au.

Alarm bells rung threw out the small town the yells and panicked cries of the townsfolk as the huddle and ran into houses under carts under anything.

You let out a amused chuckle that came out as a growl to everyone else.

You were admittedly showing off a bit more than usual today pushing your self up with another flap of your wings as arrows shot past your head.

Christ John had to get better aim.

You dove letting out a bone shivering roar it was getting boring doing the same exaggerated display but it paid well.

John or Soap as the guild nicknamed him all those years back was your very lovable boyfriend.

To say what you both did was wrong would be true.

If it didnt bring so much coin.

Slaying dragons was a respected craft and admired by many and all, The demand for dragon slayers was high since such a feat was beyond dangerous and mostly ended in death.

Dragons were usually hunted by groups who set up traps of sling shot nets , big crossbow contraptions meant to pierce threw thick hide and scales.

But Soap didn't need of that,

Not when he had you.

Speaking on which you felt something dig into your side as you let out a fake cry of pain as your turned away from the village you couldn't hear anything they were saying from up here but you could imagine Soap's heroic rant as he chased after you away from the village a few more arrows stuck too you as you decided to close your act for today.

A final dramatic cry as you dived down intentionally losing control as you crashed into the ground.

"Hey?"

A few taps to your face.

"Heyy wake up bonny boy"

You grumbled huffing.

"C'monn- You need to get up so I can pull the arrows off ya daft-"

You peered a eye open to him shifting as you got up shaking off a few branches and leaves from your head.

"Ye wanna know what name they gave ye today?"

You grunted as you got up shaking off any remaining stray debris before laying back down as Soap went to work with tugging off the arrows from you they never pierced your flesh magical properly imbued inside of them made them stick painlessly to the target more like tracking tag than real damage arrow.

"White Death, Ah think that's cooler than yer lest name na? whit wis it again.." Soap pulled off another arrow storing it back into his quiver.

White Death certain was a better name than your pervious infamous nicknames.

"Ah I remember was it Snow Scales or Ice Lizard-" Soap grinned as your growled looking away embarrassed.

Soap chuckled.

"I got 300 coin from you today- We could head somewhere nice grab some pastries from that Village a bit west I know ye loved there cinnamon rolls."

The suggestion had you perked up at the mention of the sweet which Soap grinned at.

"We should get all washit up na? Ye juist haed tae land in the mud—"

You flicked your tail at him sending him off balance and falling back into the ground as well as yo letting a raspy soundalike laugh.

Pushing your claw against the amulet that sat tight around your neck it glowed for a moment before you started to shift and change shrinking as Johnny complained about getting his satchel and clothes dirty.

Once it stopped glowing you were human size albeit a bit taller than Soap, You still had some draconic features your eyes still dilated into slits under the sun, Scales around you arms and back that were easily hid with clothes and gloves, and horns that were luckily short enough to be hid with hair or hoods.

You walked over to him holding out a helping hand only to be yanked down onto the ground by him.

"Payback-" Soap flicked your forehead as you huffed.

"Whatever you're not the one that takes the daring crashes and falls in out little acts-"

Soap just rolled his eyes. "I never said 'Oh and at the very end make sure to get covered in mud!'."

You huffed flicking his shoulder as he grinned as he retold his fake little heroic story he told to each village rambling on about these couple of cats he saw as you just listened fondly.

You visited villages with him sure when you were in your human form but it just always made you feel antsy the odd stares you'd get were enough to make you visits to cities, towns, and villages very sparse.

Soap had noticed of course the observant caring bastard that he is and wouldn't stand for it of course not forcing you but you both went out for little walks, for supplies, and for getting you and him clothes and gear.

That's what you loved about him, He brought you out of your shell his voice and mannerism really just made a part of you melt.

To think when you both met when he was going to kill you.

a/n; not very confidence in this but i wanna commit to it </3 my nerves r all over the place makes it hard to write.

#male reader #soap x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap cod #gaz garrick #gaz cod #ghost cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john price #reader #call of duty #cod #medieval au #fantasy au #knight au

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defectivevillain · 1 year

Text

took an axe and amended things

pairing: kratos x reader

reader’s pronouns: he/him

[reader with they/them pronouns here!]

warnings: canon typical violence, blood and injury

You’re venturing out in the forest when you come across a rather unusual sight: a young boy standing across from several Draugr. You initially think that your eyes are deceiving you. Even so, you move closer and realize that the kid seems to be in trouble. His only weapon is a bow and arrow; unfortunately, there are too many Draugr for the distance weapon to be of much use. You contemplate walking away for a long moment. Ultimately, you decide that you can’t leave him.

You take a deep breath and pull out your sword, lunging at the creatures closest to you. You manage to cut through a few of them. You’re preoccupied for a few moments, which causes you to lose focus and forget the boy. This mistake nearly costs you, as the kid lets out a chilling shriek. You immediately race over to him, shoving him aside. The Draugr that had been descending upon him lets out a strangled noise and plunges a clawed hand into your abdomen before you can react. A sharp burst of pain shoots through you and you quickly finish off the creature, before turning back to look at the boy. He looks mostly fine, save for a few scratches and scrapes. The kid stares at you with wide eyes, looking around for more Draugr before walking up to you.

“Thanks,” the boy says breathlessly, sending you a warm smile. The happiness quickly fades from his face when he sees the wound tearing through your abdomen. You try to muster up a calm expression, but it doesn’t seem to work very well. “Oh no…” The kid grimaces for a moment.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, stumbling forward as you try to take a step. Quick as lightning, the boy is standing at your side and steadying you. You can’t help but lean on him, despite knowing he’s a child who probably won’t be able to withstand your weight. Against all odds, though, the boy seems strong enough to support you. Before you can apologize and try to walk away, he slings your arm around his shoulder. The hand you’re pressing to your abdomen is slowly turning a dark crimson. The boy begins to walk forward and you have no choice but to clumsily follow.

“Our house is around here,” he remarks, leading you onwards. Your vision is blurring by the second, but you can make out a structure that looks like a house in the distance. Unfortunately, that distance seems rather large in your current condition. “Just hold on.”

The walk is long and painful. The cold air makes your chest burn and the wound on your abdomen isn’t getting better. You’re losing strength and gradually becoming dead weight for the kid to support. You idly wonder—through the painful haze you’re stuck in—what he’s doing out here by himself. Then again, he said our house, didn’t he? The boy evidently lives with someone else. Even so, should he have been all alone in the forest in the first place? You don’t think so.

Your thought process surrounding the boy only lasts a few moments, before it takes a backseat to the immense pain ripping through your body. Shadows creep across the corners of your vision. You stop in your tracks, grinding your heels into the snow to stop the boy from leading you onwards. Vertigo is hitting you out of nowhere, to the point where the ground seems to be spinning under your feet. You weakly grasp at the boy’s shoulder, but you can’t keep yourself standing. Before long, you’re crumpling to the ground. The kid lets out an exclamation and the world fades to a dizzying black.

You seem to waver between unconsciousness and wakefulness. There’s a loud thunk that breaks you out of your slumber, but you keep your eyes closed in the hopes that you’ll find rest again. Amidst the darkness, you can catch traces of conversation between the boy from earlier and another person.

“Boy, what did I tell you about strangers?” The voice you hear is deep and timbered; it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I know, Father, but-”

“A childish mistake. The moment you let your guard down to someone, they will swiftly destroy you.”

You eventually abandon the notion of rest and open your eyes to find yourself in a dimly lit room. Wooden beams stretch across the ceiling; the torches hanging from them are the only source of light. For several seconds, you remain still and stare up at the ceiling. Your balance feels lopsided, despite the fact that you’re reclined on the floor. Before you can even begin to push yourself up, there’s a quick glint of metal as an axe presses up against your throat. You look up to find a huge man towering over you. He wears a stiff shoulder guard, leather forearm wraps, and a belt across his waist. His eyes are steely and there’s a malicious aura radiating off of him.

“Get out of my home,” the man orders, pressing the axe further against your neck. You can’t stop the hiss that crawls from your throat when the metal digs into your skin. “Now.” There’s nothing but hatred in the man’s brown eyes. You swallow hard and try to push yourself up to a sitting position, while avoiding the axe at your throat. The slight movement hurts far more than you expect and you let out a strangled breath.

“No!” The boy from earlier exclaims. You glance to your side, only to find him sitting next to you. He places a hand on your shoulder and you realize that his grip is surprisingly strong. Now that the boy is closer, you’re able to see that he has clear blue eyes. He’s even smaller up close. Just how old is this boy? You’re not sure you want to know. “He needs rest.” You raise an eyebrow at the unexpected defense.

The man holding the axe glares at the boy, who stares right back. Admittedly, you’re impressed with the kid’s fearlessness—especially in the face of this brute in front of you, who’s holding a rather dangerous-looking axe. “Atreus.”

“Father, he saved me,” the boy—Atreus—interjects. At this, the man stills. His gaze falls to his son for a fraction of a moment, before he returns to glaring at you menacingly. “I was surrounded.” He continues. Your head is swimming and takes an immense amount of effort to focus on what he’s saying. “I tried to fight, but I was outnumbered… A Draugr got close and was about to strike me. This one was a lot faster than Draugr usually are, and I reacted too late… He pushed me out of the way and took the blow.”

The massive man is still staring at you with a scrutinizing gaze, evidently trying to find the fault in his son’s story. You grimace, half in pain and half in intense discomfort. For a few moments, there is nothing but silence. Then, the axe at your throat falls to the man’s side. You push yourself up to a sitting position and take a deep breath. Unfortunately, the conversation doesn’t seem to be over, as the man’s axe is still in hand.

“Why did you save him?” The axe isn’t pressed up directly against your skin any longer, but it still hovers menacingly above your neck.

“He’s just a boy,” you murmur, struggling to make sense of your thoughts. “I don’t know; I didn’t really have time to think about it. It just… happened.” The man’s eye contact is intense, so much so that you have to avert your gaze after a few seconds. Whatever this man is looking for, he seems to find it in your expression.

“He can stay until he heals,” the man says, hardly sparing you a glance before turning to his son, “You will supervise him.” Atreus nods and immediately turns back to you. His father glares at you one more time, before turning his back and walking to one of the other rooms. You stare after him in disbelief.

“Sorry about Father,” Atreus sighs, drawing your attention back to him. He seems to be making some sort of ointment to apply to your wound. “He doesn’t like people very much.” You shake your head, trying to reassure the boy that it isn’t his fault and that you don’t mind. You are a stranger in their home, after all. “This is going to hurt.” Atreus presses the ointment to your abdomen and you inhale sharply. It burns for a few seconds, before cooling pleasantly.

Feeling a sudden heat, you look up to find Atreus’s father lurking a short distance away. He looms next to a wall, hiding him from his son’s view. The man crosses his arms over his chest and stares at you with a strange expression—which morphs into a murderous look once he realizes that you’re staring back.

“What’s wrong?” The boy asks from his place at your side. He’s looking at you expectantly and you tear your gaze away from his father, who slinks off into another area of the house and out of sight. You bite your lip. Despite Atreus’s curiosity, you can’t bring yourself to betray his father’s actions.

“Nothing.” You say with a shake of your head. Atreus finishes preparing the bandages and begins to wrap them around your abdomen. The boy’s bandaging seems to be a bit clumsy, but you can’t bear to feel anything but grateful for his help—especially when he stood up to his father for you. “Thanks for healing me.” You decide to voice your gratitude.

“It’s my fault you got hurt in the first place.” Atreus murmurs, just quietly enough that it takes you a moment to realize you didn’t imagine the remark. You try to argue, but the boy has finished your bandages and he’s already walking away before you can entirely comprehend the statement. As much as you want to go after him, you’re essentially bound to the floor—your injuries are too grave for you to even try moving.

You fall asleep for a bit, until you’re woken by the eerie feeling of someone watching you. You dazedly blink your eyes open, only to have a mini heart attack when you see Atreus’s father looming over you. Is he here to kill you, now that Atreus isn’t present? You don’t get much time to wonder, before the man is speaking.

“That boy…” You can hardly let out a protest before his father gets down on one knee and tugs at your bandages. You let out a weak protest, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. He instead pulls off the bandages with an almost mechanical precision.

“I don’t even know your name, yet,” you joke weakly, trying to distract yourself from his proximity and the pain flaring up in your abdomen. As expected, the joke doesn’t register with the man. He looks annoyed at the mere suggestion.

“You have no need for it.” You stare at him. Your disbelief and mild irritation must show on your face, because the man looks back down at the bandages and steadily refuses to meet your eyes. For someone so intimidating, this guy seems to be almost… timid. Perhaps he’s just unaccustomed to social interaction. That would make a lot of sense, actually. His house is in the middle of the woods, deep enough that he likely doesn’t encounter many people. “Kratos.”

You raise an eyebrow and tell him your name, although you suspect that he doesn’t care what your name is. Sure enough, the man doesn’t even acknowledge your remark. His rather large hands are fiddling with the roll of bandages, and you’re almost tempted to help him out. You reach out, only for him to meet your eyes once more.

“If it weren’t for the boy…” The man’s eyes darken. He looks down to wrap the bandages around you. He tightens them a bit too fiercely, causing you to suck in a startled breath. Kratos looks up when he’s finished and levels you with a menacing glare. “I’d kill you where you stand.”

You gulp. His hands brush your skin for the briefest of moments, sending a wave of heat down your spine. It’s hard to focus when Kratos is so close to you. Thankfully, once he’s finished with the bandages, he gets to his feet and stares at you.

“For whatever reason, the boy has developed a liking for you,” Kratos states flatly. There’s an unconvinced look on his face, as if he can’t comprehend why his son even mildly tolerates you. You feel a little offended at that—are you really so insufferable to be around? “I expect you out of here the moment you’re fully healed.”

“Alright, thanks,” you answer, having half-expected a remark along those lines. The two of you are then locked in a pseudo-staring contest—as if you’re sizing each other up—for a few seconds before Kratos turns his back and walks away.

As you rest, your conversation with Kratos dominates your thoughts. Unfortunately, you don’t have much else to think about—your healing isn’t going as fast as you’d like. Time seems to drag on, especially when all you do is sleep or eat small meals. You’re amazed you’ve been given any food at all; although, you then realize that Atreus is likely hunting for you.

“I’m not who Father thinks I am,” Atreus remarks one morning, as he’s changing your bandages. He noticed his father’s adjustments and since then, he’s been fairly high strung. You remain silent and let him continue. “I’m strong, I’m smart. I’m capable.”

“You are,” you agree, happy to see the pink flush on the boy’s cheeks at the acknowledgement. Unfortunately, Atreus’s bashfulness doesn’t last long, as his eyebrows furrow and his lips twist into a scowl.

“Then why doesn’t he see that?” Atreus exclaims. You put a finger to your lips to get him to lower his voice, but the boy doesn’t seem to notice the gesture. “I don’t understand! He always leaves, he never talks to me or teaches me. He doesn’t even want me!” The boy’s voice cracks and your heart breaks just a little more.

“Atreus…” You bite your lip, feeling an overwhelming sympathy overtake you. You feel like you’re listening in on something you shouldn’t, despite Atreus’s voluntary disclosure of information. “I don’t know your father, but I know that you’re wrong. He does want you; he loves you.”

“How can you be so sure?” Atreus whispers. He sounds so unsure that you feel your eyes begin to burn. Is his father’s approval really so foreign to him? It doesn’t take you long to choose what to say next.

“Because I’m still here,” you answer. You hadn’t intended to tell Atreus about his father’s threats, but now, you think they’ll serve as evidence to your claims. “He’s keeping me here because you asked him to. If you hadn’t, I’d be dead right now.”

“That’s not true,” Atreus fires back.

“He told me as much,” you admit. Atreus’s lips part and he stares at you in disbelief. You take a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking again. “Anyway. Your father doesn’t seem like the type to use his words, but… his actions couldn’t be more transparent.” Atreus is silent at that. You frown, wishing there were some way to convince him. An idea passes through your mind and you decide to speak your thoughts. “I know I’m not your father, but-” you break off, “I am proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Atreus huffs, his ears turning red. You give in to the urge to ruffle his hair and he scowls dramatically, turning his attention to your bandages. You allow him to escape the conversation and the two of you soon change topics and talk about innocuous things. Eventually, Atreus leaves to hunt and you’re alone again.

You find yourself alone in the house rather frequently. You can’t bring yourself to be irritated with it—after all, you’re pretty much an uninvited house guest. Furthermore, it appears as if your wound is healing rather well… It should take only a few more days of rest before you’re ready to go home. A small part of you wonders if this cabin could be your home, if this father and son could be your family. You quickly disregard the concept.

Somehow, you manage to heal faster than you expect. Within a few days, you’re up and walking again. Almost the moment that you realize you can walk, you head towards the door. Kratos’s threats from earlier are living in your mind. I expect you out of here the moment you’re fully healed. You press your palm flat against the door and push, only for a voice to interrupt your thoughts.

“Where are you going?” You turn around, dread coiling in your chest as you find Kratos standing in the space you had previously occupied. He’s regarding you with wariness and skepticism. You frown at that, unable to dissuade your own confusion.

“Um… home?” If it weren’t for the boy, I’d kill you where you stand. You gulp. You had hoped to avoid an awkward confrontation—or even a fight— by slipping out of the house undetected. That was wishful thinking, apparently. For the next few moments, you’re frozen in the doorway as Kratos stares at you with a scrutinizing gaze. His arms are crossed over his chest and there’s nothing but frustration written in the lines of his tense shoulders.

“The boy likes you,” Kratos eventually says, breaking through the strained silence. Tension settles in the air. You’re admittedly not fully recovered, and your balance is a bit testy. You place a hand on the wall in a casual gesture, pretending that you don’t need the stability. Kratos seems to recognize what you’re doing regardless, as he reaches out. You resist the urge to flinch. His hand rests on your shoulder and there’s a strange look on his face. “Stay.”

You stay—not that your decision has anything to do with the relieved expression on Kratos’s face when you step away from the front door. That doesn’t run through your mind at all. You make your way past Kratos and sit down on the floor once more.

When Atreus returns home that day, he launches himself at you and hugs you before you can object. You smile and wrap your arms around him in return. The boy doesn’t seem keen to let you go any time soon. You look over Atreus’s shoulder, only to accidentally lock eyes with Kratos. His fists are clenched at his sides and he quickly turns away. Your chest burns as you return your attention to Atreus, pretending not to have noticed his father gazing at the boy with a remorseful expression.

When the two of you break apart, Atreus stares at you expectantly. You turn your head to the side in an attempt to avoid his gaze, but the movement draws a pained hiss from your lips. You grimace as pain flares up your back. You don’t think you’re quite subtle enough, because Atreus’s eyebrows furrow.

“Your back hurts,” the boy realizes aloud. Damn it, why is this boy so observant? You bite your lip and remain silent, not wanting to further incriminate yourself. Atreus seems to have his mind made up, however, as he looks at you. “Haven’t you been sleeping on the floor? That’s probably why. You should tell Father.”

“No thanks,” you say with a shake of your head. Your conversations with Kratos are awkward enough on their own. The last thing you want is to bring up your discomfort, especially when he and his son have been so kind as to let you reside here. “Besides, there isn’t another bed for me to sleep in or anything.”

Atreus stares at you with a rather complex gleam in his eyes. His mischievous expression throws you off, and you get the feeling that you should be nervous. “Father likes you, you know,” the boy remarks. You blink once, twice—convinced that you misheard him. Once you process the statement, you look at him in confusion.

“There’s something about you,” Atreus continues, “He doesn’t hate you as much as he hates everyone else.” You want to laugh, but the sentiment seems to strike true—Kratos clearly dislikes people. The portion of Atreus’s statement concerning his lessened hatred for you is definitely untrue, though. Instead of arguing, you keep quiet and let Atreus continue speaking. “Ever since Mother died, he hasn’t been quite the same. But he’s better, now that you’re around.”

“You think so?”

Atreus nods silently. You don’t know what to say; Atreus seems similarly lost for words. “It’s healing nicely,” he says, nodding at your wound. You look down at the warped scar tearing through your skin. That scar is probably going to be permanent, you realize with resignation. Atreus doesn’t elaborate on his previous remark and you spend the rest of the day thinking about it.

The next day, the strange interaction with Atreus falls to the back of your mind, as you begin to busy yourself with attempts at full recovery. You slowly begin to start walking around again, and before long, you’re able to walk around the house with relative ease. One day, you even walk outside to get some fresh air. You don’t realize how much you needed the sunshine, until you feel a smile breaking out on your face. The midmorning rendezvous gives you a bit more energy.

For a few days after your attempt at departure, you don’t see Kratos at all. You almost want to think that he’s avoiding you, but you recognize that notion to be rather self-centered. He’s probably just busy. You decide to remain patient. Your patience does eventually pay off, because Kratos ambles into the room you’re occupying and stops to stand next to you. You send him a small smile, which he doesn’t return. Silence dominates the air for a few more moments, before Kratos speaks.

“The boy says-”

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to call him by his name once in a while,” you interject. Kratos glares at you and you glare right back for a few moments, until you eventually get sick of the charade. The man raises an eyebrow, as if to ask: Are you done? You roll your eyes in response.

“The boy says your back has been hurting.” Kratos finishes, a note of something unreadable in his voice. You don’t dare to analyze the emotion beneath that remark.

“He’s too observant, sometimes,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. You quickly feel the need to defend yourself. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Kratos snaps. He looks askance and it almost feels as if he’s trying to pretend you aren’t in front of him. Despite the rather harsh statement, though, his eyebrows are furrowed and he seems more irritated than usual. “You’ll sleep in my room tonight.” A million thoughts run through your head all at once. What does that statement mean, exactly? Surely, he means you’ll sleep on the floor of his room. Perhaps there’s a plush carpet. Honestly, you’ll take anything over the hardwood flooring of the main cabin area.

“Okay.” You murmur, once you realize that Kratos is waiting for a response. His lips are pulled taut and he stares at you for a moment longer before walking away. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Thankfully, it’s only midmorning. You have the rest of the day to put the thought off.

Unfortunately, the day passes unusually fast. Before long, it’s beginning to get dark. Kratos doesn’t seem to be around, but his words from earlier still echo in your ears. For a moment, you contemplate sleeping on the floor in the main room again. You quickly dismiss the notion when you see Atreus pouting at you. Rolling your eyes, you allow him to tug you by the arm until you’re standing in Kratos’s room.

There’s only one bed. Thankfully, Atreus leaves and doesn’t insist on anything stupid—like sharing the bed with his father. You’re sure that you’d wake up to an axe pointed at your throat, and you’d rather not have a repeat of your first meeting. There is a fluffy carpet in the corner of the room and you shrug, before lowering yourself down to the ground and curling up on your side. It’s far from comfortable, but you’re so tired that you can’t find the energy to care. Before you can muse about your unconventional sleeping arrangements any longer, you’re drifting off into sleep.

Your sleep is rough for a little while. You hear bits and pieces of noise, but you’re never fully torn from slumber. Then, out of nowhere, you’re jostled and you slip into a weird void between slumber and wakefulness. You vaguely register an arm under your knees and another supporting your upper back. Suddenly, there’s plush material beneath you and you can’t stop the miniscule exhale that leaves your lips at the feeling. You swear you hear a huff of amusement, but you’re far too exhausted to ponder it.

You wake hours later feeling remarkably refreshed. It’s the first time since you resided here that you were actually able to rest. You push yourself up slowly, taking a moment to survey your surroundings. It appears that you’re in Kratos’s room. Wait. You’re not on the floor… You’re on his bed. You quickly throw the blanket off of you and try not to panic. He can’t kill you if he doesn’t notice—

“You were on the floor.” Fuck. You look up, only to find Kratos hovering in the doorway. He stares down at you expectantly.

“Well, yeah,” you frown, pushing yourself off the bed to stand across from him. “Where else was I supposed to go?” Kratos has a rather disbelieving expression on his face as he regards you. His lips part and he’s about to say something when there’s a loud rapping sound. The man whips around and stalks out into the main room. You follow at his heels, secretly grateful for the interruption. You weren’t quite looking forward to the awkward conversation surrounding how you ended up sleeping in his bed last night.

“What was that?” Atreus asks, emerging from one of the other rooms. You put a finger over your lips and then turn to Kratos, who is glaring at the front door hard enough to set it aflame with his gaze alone. The three of you are entirely silent as you wait to hear the sound again. About a minute passes and you’re about to relax when there’s another harsh noise; it sounds like someone is knocking on the door. Kratos turns around and stares at you determinedly.

“Watch the boy.” He demands.

“But-” You try to say, beginning to sense what is going on. Evidently, this visitor isn’t coming for a housewarming party. Whoever it is, they must be an enemy—if the vicious expression on Kratos’s face is anything to go by.

“Go.” Kratos snarls. Your heart is racing but you decide to obey him. Atreus seems like he wants to fight, but you place a hand on his shoulder. He sighs and walks a few steps until he’s standing in front of a pile of cushions and blankets. Atreus pushes them to the side, which reveals a sort of trapdoor mechanism. The boy tugs at it before lowering himself down into it. You take one final glance at Kratos, before following Atreus into the makeshift cellar. The moment you’re with Atreus, Kratos closes the trapdoor and Atreus and you are left in pitch-black darkness.

“Will he be okay?” Atreus voices. Within a few seconds of that question, you both hear a rumbling sound and raised voices. You can’t quite see Atreus, but you can hear his leg bouncing restlessly.

“Of course,” you murmur quietly. You’re sure he’ll be fine and you try to bring that conviction into your voice to combat Atreus’s nerves. The boy stares at you for a moment, before practically throwing himself into your arms. You embrace him hesitantly at first. As the two of you continue to wait with bated breath, you bring your hand up to the back of the boy’s head and cradle him close. He’s far too young to be going through all of this, you think to yourself.

You hear a loud crash and hastily put your hands over Atreus’s ears. He whimpers and you close your eyes, trying not to flinch as you hear inexplicable noises from above. A part of you wants to peek out from the trapdoor and see what’s going on, but you promised Kratos that you’d protect Atreus. Knowing that, you hold him close to your chest and try to wait for the end of the crashing noises.

Ironically, after all of that ruckus, there is… nothing. You have no idea how much time passes after those sounds. Your ears are buzzing and you anxiously await any sort of noise. After an immeasurable amount of time, you hear footsteps from above. Atreus clenches your shirt in a tight grip and you pull him closer. The trapdoor creaks open ominously, and you instinctively turn your back to protect Atreus. A few seconds pass, and nothing happens. You warily turn your head, only to find Kratos looming over the trapdoor. You let out a sigh of relief and relax your hold on Atreus, who peeks out from your shoulder and looks up at him.

“Father!” Atreus exclaims, relief evident in his voice. He steps up on the chest nearby and Kratos hoists him up.

“Atreus,” Kratos responds, staring down at his son. The boy launches himself into Kratos’s arms, murmuring things that you pretend not to hear. You smile at the sight, despite feeling a bit out of place; you vaguely feel as if you’re not supposed to be witnessing this rather intimate and private moment. After a few moments, Atreus releases his hold on his father and you accidentally lock eyes with Kratos over the boy’s head. There’s blood splattered all over the man’s face but he appears to be fine. Atreus moves away and Kratos extends his arm to you. You don’t hesitate to take his proffered hand, allowing him to loftily pull you up from the cellar. His grip remains, even as Atreus pulls the cushions and blankets over the cellar. In fact, Kratos’s hand rises from your hand to grasp your forearm.

“You alright?” You ask. Kratos answers with a huff that you’ve grown to associate with amusement. There’s something lingering on his shoulder and you move to brush it off. Kratos stiffens and freezes, a guarded expression rising on his face. Despite his evident wariness, he doesn’t push you away. You brush the debris off his shoulder and quickly explain. “Sorry. You had, um, some dirt.”

“You looked after the boy,” Kratos says, apropos of nothing. You blink at him for a second.

“Of course,” you respond. You glance over at Atreus, who appears to be doing something in one of the other rooms. He’s too far away to hear your conversation, but your voice comes out like a whisper anyway. “I care about him. And… you asked me to.”

There’s a vulnerability in Kratos’s expression—a sentiment you’ve never seen from him. His eyes are wide and shining with emotion. You’re almost convinced that you’re seeing things. Despite the uncharacteristically expressive look on his face, he doesn’t speak for a few minutes. “You were prepared to die for him.” Kratos’s eyes fall to the pile of cushions over the trapdoor, evidently referencing how he found the two of you. You had instinctually shielded Atreus.

“I mean, don’t give me too much credit; it’s what anyone would have done.” You ramble, feeling strangely off-kilter with Kratos standing so close to you. His eyes have yet to leave your face and his gaze demands your attention. You stare at him and he stares at you. Kratos reaches out and cradles your jaw. He swipes at your cheek with his thumb and you freeze in surprise.

“When you were about to leave,” Kratos begins, his hand falling from your face and down to the crook of your neck. His lips part as if to continue speaking, but no words come out.

“You don’t have to explain,” you say, noticing that his shoulders are tight and his posture has recovered some tension. Kratos has an utterly tortured expression on his face and you feel immensely guilty for provoking that feeling in him. “Seriously, it’s fine-” You try to say, only for the words to fall flat on your tongue.

“You knew how to handle the boy,” the man continues. “I was envious at first. I… never had that kind of relationship with my father, and it affected my own relationship with the boy. When you appeared, I thought you would take him from me.” It appears as if speaking so much is actively harming Kratos, as he winces and stiffens with every word. He looks profoundly uncomfortable and determined at the same time. You remain silent, despite the conflicting feelings roaring in your heart.

“You understand the boy, in a way I have never been able to. I couldn’t bear to hate you, not when you gave Atreus his joy back. He hadn’t smiled since his mother died.” That, you hadn’t known. Suddenly, your throat burns as you remember the smiles Atreus has given you. “I have failed Atreus again and again, yet I tried to rob him of the one person that truly understood him… because that person was not me. What kind of father am I, for envying what you have with him?”

“A normal one, I think,” you answer honestly. “Kratos,” you break off, reaching out to him. Kratos grabs your wrist before you can reach him, a resigned expression on his face. He’s beginning to bury his emotions again. The light is slowly draining from his eyes. It feels as if he’s slowly slipping away from you.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Kratos says quietly. Your eyes catch on the bloodstains on his face and you begin to realize what he’s alluding to. Everything begins to make an absurd amount of sense: the giant axe, the ease with which he handled the unknown intruder, the entirely unaffected expression on his face as he ordered Atreus and you to hide.

“I don’t,” you acquiesce. Kratos’s hand is still on your wrist, but you manage to move your arm and clasp his forearm in return. “But that doesn’t matter—none of that matters. What matters is that you’re trying.” You take a deep breath. “Atreus needs you… and I do, too.”

Your eyes lock again and you realize that Kratos’s eyes are rather glassy. Is he crying? No, you must be seeing things. There’s an apology on the tip of your tongue but before you can speak, Kratos is tugging you towards him. You go along with the sudden momentum and, in the blink of an eye, he’s kissing you.

The gesture feels far too short, as a voice grounds you back to reality. “Finally.” You freeze and regretfully break away from Kratos, only to find Atreus staring at the two of you from his position in the far doorway. You feel extremely mortified and you try to salvage the situation by removing your hands from Kratos’s shoulders, but you fear it’s already too late.

“Boy…” Kratos trails off, evidently lost for words. Despite the fact that you’ve been found out, the man still hasn’t removed his hands from your waist.

“What?” Atreus asks innocently, a rather mischievous smile on his face. You sigh fondly at him, before beckoning him closer. The boy runs over and throws an arm around you, before doing the same with his father. Kratos looks startled for a moment, before he brings Atreus closer with his free hand. You smile to yourself as you’re surrounded by Kratos and Atreus—your newfound family.

#defectivevillain #kratos x reader #kratos x male reader #god of war #gow #gow kratos #gow x reader #x male reader #male reader #masc reader #transmasc reader #yuh yuh

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sleepy-the-loz-enthusiast · 2 months

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CW: injury description, I felt sad so decided to make the LU boys suffer. But it ends with fluff. Enjoy !!

To say it had been a hard battle would be a severe understatement. Sure, fights were never easy, but often the heroes were left with only a few scrapes and bruises. Not now, though.

Half of the Chain were rendered unconscious and now being carried by their brothers. But the conscious ones weren't without their woes- Twilight's femur had snapped out of his skin, for Hylia's sake!- so he's stuck riding on Epona. But only after Warriors had reset the bone and force-fed him a red potion. His trousers are still ripped and sticky with drying blood and tiny scraps of his flesh. Though, having one of the sturdier members on horseback has it's advantages, as Wild would tell you if he was awake. Which he isn't, his self preservation died alongside his body 100 years ago, and now he's slumped against his brother's chest, basically sitting in his lap. Wild's face is pale enough to rival fresh snow- hell, it's whiter than the bandages that wrap around the majority of his body. Though no broken bones, so that's a plus.

Sky's seated at Twilight's back, his head resting on the Rancher's shoulder. His arms are tied around Twilight's waist with rope that came from somewhere. Sky's stamina had failed him midway through trying to take down a particularly vicious Hinox, which kindly kicked him into a tree when he crumpled to the ground. The one moment Hylia decides to bless them is when Sky smacks into the tree arm first. Sure, his whole arm basically shattered, but a broken arm can heal; a shattered spine cannot. He didn't get so lucky when his head also hit the tree with considerable force and several ribs cracked from the initial kick. Needless to say, the boy is still knocked out cold even after two fairies and Warriors' first aid skills.

Speaking of Warriors... he's fine. Physically, at least. The War has made sure he can't be outnumbered in a swarm. Mentally? Well, about as fine as someone caked in blood can be. None of it belongs to him; it's a disgusting mix of monster and his brothers. His eyes hold a haunted hollowness, and though his legs keep marching and his arms hold Legend securely, he's somewhere distant.

Legend's no better off than Wild or Sky. In fact, he's arguably the worst off out of all of them, though not in terms of physical wounds. The Veteran Hero has his nickname for a reason, and his nimble fighting style merely highlights it. No, the idiot forgot to keep track of how much magic his items used and insisted he was fine without any green potions, Hyrule needed them more so he could heal the others. He wasn't so fine when the magic exhaustion stopped his heart. And it took 10 minutes of CPR and two broken ribs for his body to resuscitate. He barely stayed awake long enough to have a green and a red potion poured down his throat. His limp body in Warriors' arms is the reason the Captain periodically ducks his head down to see if the boy's still breathing.

Four had been the last to fall, and boy did he fall hard. With no other options, he'd had to split into his colours to guard the others and fight. It wasn't going terribly until their brains and courage got knocked out. A moblin's club took Vio down, and a Lizalfos took Green down with a cut across his legs. This spurred Red and Blue into a panic, which then led to more reckless injuries. What makes them reckless is that they tried to hide it, not knowing that all the wounds the colours sustained would all show up on Four's body. Who knew Red was the type to hide a stab wound? So now the Rainbow is passed out on Hyrule's back, occasionally muttering something incoherent to himself, but otherwise staying dead silent.

As for Wind and Time? The Sailor had been the one fighting that Hinox alongside Sky, and he'd been the one to cry out when Sky got kicked into a tree. But what does a Link do when in a panicked situation? Start throwing bombs, because that's logical. But Wind's barely a teenager, and so throw bombs at a Hinox he does. It's just a shame that the ugly thing fell on him and broke his legs. And that he couldn't even cry out for help until Time found him silently sobbing to himself. When Warriors reset his legs and Hyrule healed them, Time held him close like he'd done for Twilight.

Time's injuries are superficial, in his opinion. A few slashes here and there, a broken nose, a heavily bruised foot, nothing compared to what the others- his boys- had been through. Now he leads the group since Warriors is hidden away in his own mind, Twilight is fighting to stay awake, and Hyrule has no sense of direction.

But thankfully Time knew the path back to his ranch like he knew the exact time down to the second. He could find his home even if he was beaten within an inch of his life and on the verge of death... that was quite the scolding he'd gotten after waking up. But enough about the past, he needs to focus on the now. It doesn't matter how much he'd love to just collapse onto the grass and sleep, he needs to get his boys to safety.

And in time, that's what Time does. The lights of LonLon ranch have never held so much hope before, neither does Malon's voice as he shouts to them in surprise.

"Oh, you poor things! Come on, come inside, we need go get y'all in bed!"

The following minutes of getting everyone inside and comfortable is a blur to say the least. Somehow, everyone awake has been given a warm mug of chamomile tea with a generous amount of honey, and everyone who'd been unconscious is resting amid fluffy pillows and blankets.

Hyrule drops off to sleep beside Legend and Wild not long after, his body finally giving in to exhaustion after running on fumes for hours. Malon gathers Time and Twilight into her arms- though Twi's more on her lap than anything from his position laid on the couch. Time manages to relay what happened to his wife, but Twilight can't fight sleep any longer. Especially not when Malon carding fingers through his hair reminds him so much of his mother... he misses her....

Warriors sits silently on a chair, his mug of tea forgotten without a sip. He stares into nowhere while trying to claw his way back into some form of awareness. His brothers are safe. They're safe. They aren't going to die. So why is he still so... paranoid? Absent? Afraid?

He doesn't notice when an older man takes a seat on the chair beside him. "Son? Ya gonna wash all that blood off you or what?" He asks, his accent similar to Malon's in a way Warriors' dazed mind can't comprehend.

When the Link doesn't respond, the older man's bushy eyebrows knit together in worry. "Link? Ya with me?"

No response. The man- Talon- sighs.

"Yer friends are safe, kiddo. See?" He points over to the pile of blankets. The blonde man follows the motion with his eyes. "They're all breathin', all still livin' and kickin'. You ain't got nothin' to worry about." The man keeps his voice as soft as it can be, and filled with quiet patience.

"Y'all are safe here in my ranch, no ugly so'n'so's gonna beat y'all up. You can rest now, Link."

And that's what breaks the dam.

Warriors gasps for air, his mind catching up and reeling. He breathes heavily for a few moments, all the while tears stream down his face. They leave pale, clean streaks in the blood coating his cheeks. Talon takes a cloth and gently wipes it away, muttering words of assurance.

"You back with me, sonny?"

"Y- yes. I... sorry."

"Don' worry, boy. Go get changed outta those bloody clothes and join yer brothers, yeah? Yer gonna be all okay."

Warriors just nods, still a little numb, and walks off.

He returns a while later, his hair and skin damp and his undershirt clings to his torso a little. His eyes are weary and bloodshot as he looks around at his brothers, all safe...

Legend and Wild both huddle into Hyrule. Four and Sky are still out cold but wrapped around eachother. Wind's somehow cuddling into Twilight's side where he's sprawled out on a couch. Time's nowhere to be seen, but if the snoring is anything to go by, he's in his own room. With Malon.

Warriors sighs deeply, the tension in his shoulders unwinding for the first time all day. Suddenly he's exhausted and slipping under a rouge blanket before he knows it.

Everyone's safe now. Not uninjured, not healed, but at least they're safe.

This is kind of shit but I was sad and really tired so here's the boys being horrifically injured but with a happy ending! I don't really know how to write Talon, but I imagine him and Malon have helped Time through a lot so he knows how to help a traumatised Link. Anyways, if you're reading this, thank you, and have a wondeful existence !

#lu #tloz #linked universe #lu twilight #lu legend #lu time #lu wild #lu warriors #lu four #lu sky #lu wind #lu hyrule #writing #fanfiction #this is kinda bloody #you've been warned #there's injuries galore

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piedpiperart · 11 months

Text

Phantom of Gotham 17

Chapter 16

“Shoot, we didn’t ask Phantom about Danny,”Dick groaned.

“I asked him a bit, but it uh. It seemed private,”Tim chimed in from where he was sitting at the batcomputer with his pajamas on. They’d changed when they had gotten back, but stuck around to debrief.

“Yeah, what the fuck were you thinking going into some glowing green portal by yourself?” Jason let out, exasperated. Tim just shrugged, not pausing in his typing.

“You could have come with you know,”Tim argued. “He said it was safe, and we just flew to this frozen island to get Frostbite, then flew back.”

“Frozen island? Wait a minute, what was it like in there?” Dick asked, bouncing on his feet with Damian scowling at his side in batman pajamas.

“Well, it’s kind of like… okay, imagine the sky is green, just like the portal. Now imagine you’re floating in the green sky and theres no ground. So theres only sky around you and as you keep moving theres things floating in the sky as you go along, like random doors and floating islands,” Tim explained. “Its really interesting actually, apparently most of the floating islands or doors lead to a ghosts haunt, or territory. Frostbites was huge and he and his people lived in these snowy mountain caves, but their technology was super advanced. I didn’t get a lot of time to ask about it but apparently Frostbite is like the Zone’s doctor.”

“Huh,” Dick murmured, trying to wrap his brain around all of that information. The other bats didn’t seem much better.

Tim sighed. “Just read my report.”

“Creepy ghost zone aside,”Jason shuddered,”What did you mean when you said you talked to Phantom about Danny? And why were you two running around looking for boxes?”

“I asked why Danny had uh.. Autopsy scars, and Phantom said that the Fentons found out about Danny and locked him in their lab. Phantom couldn’t get to him immediately, so they had time to uh, do a few experiments,”Tim gritted out.”But Phantom got him out eventually and they made their way here.”

None of them were happy about that, but it was mostly what they had speculated. Still, confirming what they thought wasn’t a good feeling. Tim could see Jason’s fists clenching and decided on a distraction.

“As for the boxes,”Tim grinned.”On our way back we ran into a ghost who had an obsession with boxes, so I promised to give some to Frostbite for him when we were done.”

Jason didn’t know what to do with that information, so he just elected to ignore it. Dick on the other hand, had many questions. “Why boxes?”

“I was told he is the ruler of all things cardboard and square,”Tim repeated, laughing internally at their faces. “Phantom calls him Boxy.”

“Huh,”Dick said again, and Tim was starting to get concerned. He shrugged, they could just read his report about it.

“Wait, was Boxy the one that had a kid?” Jason said suddenly, and they all grimaced.

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

Flying back to the Wayne Manor, Danny could see hardly any snow outside. He knew they’d probably continue school tomorrow, or the next day. Part of him trusted the bats, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to reveal his identity yet. He knew he couldn’t stay there any longer for fear of the Wayne-Bats wanting to find him a place to stay or getting involved more than they were, but Danny didn’t want their civilian sides getting too involved.

He knew that after three portals were opened in one space had a high possibility of alerting GIW or Vlad of his location. If he wanted to avoid them, he couldn’t stay with the Waynes. Danny wasn’t sure if they still had a way of tracking him, but they could definitely track huge power sources like the portals he’d made.

Danny floated down to his room and eyed his bag in the corner. He’d kept it fully packed in case he needed to leave, but he felt bad leaving without a goodbye. Maybe he could write a note? It was for the best, really. He didn’t want his parents or Agent K breaking into the manor or hurting the Waynes. Sure, they could fight the agents no problem, but they might give their identities away. Or worse, Vlad could break into the manor. It would be easy for Vlad to find him if he ended up on any of the Wayne’s social media. Danny was pretty sure the fruitloop jealously stalked Bruce on every social media platform that ever existed.

Maybe that’s how Vlad got the idea to adopt a blue eyed black haired teenager? Danny mused, then shook his head. Then he stopped. Actually, that made some sense. Danny frowned. Okay, so maybe Vlad’s plans weren’t even original. Whatever. Either way, he had to leave.

Yeah, he could write them a note, he thought, ignoring the sad feeling permeating his core.

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

Despite the fact that they had school that morning, Tim hadn’t seen Danny yet. Usually, the boy would be in the kitchen cooking breakfast with Alfred, but not today Part of him wondered if Danny was sleeping still when he caught sight of Alfred’s face and the note laid on the table.

“What’s up Alfred? Where’s Danny?”Tim asked, taking a seat. Uncharacteristically, Alfred frowned and passed him the note gently.

“Master Danny has decided to return to his old place due to the snow letting up,”Alfred informed him, and Tim’s heart dropped. He grasped the note tighter and jerked his gaze to the letters.

Waynes-

Thank you for letting me stay with you all during the blizzard, but now that the snow has let up it’s time for me to leave. Sorry for not staying long enough for a goodbye, but I figured you’d try to convince me to stay, so, yeah. Don’t worry about me though, I’ll be fine. You have my number and I’ll be seeing Tim and Steph at school. Just please don’t call CPS or anything, I promise I’m much better off on my own. Anyways, thanks for letting me stay. It was nice to meet you all.

-Danny 𔓎

p.s. Please don’t call Red Hood to kidnap me again.

Tim let out a breath, reading the note again before putting it on the table. His mind was already racing with plans. Maybe Danny went back to the Pizzaria, so Red Robin could just swing by later. When did Danny even leave? He was sure they would have caught him on the security feed or Alfred would have at least caught him sneaking out.

“I believe Master Danny had left sometime last night,”Alfred said, cutting through his thoughts. “He left the note on his bed, and Master Bruce is unsure how he managed to avoid the cameras on his way.”

“You think Phantom took him?” Tim asked, but frowned. That didn’t make any sense. Maybe Danny just asked Phantom to get him? Was that why Phantom disappeared so quickly after the meeting?

“It seems that way,”Alfred said, pushing a plate of food at him. “Master Jason has since returned home, but has been alerted of the situation. Masters Bruce and Dick are in the cave, and Damian has already left for school in accordance to a field trip.”

“Hm,”Tim frowned. He assumed Jason would be swinging by the Pizzeria to check out Danny’s space. At least he knew he’d be seeing Danny at school, and, the letter was right, he did have Danny’s number. No doubt Damian was mad at Danny for leaving too, but maybe Jason would be able to find him again later and bring him back. Tim resigned himself to try to kidnap Danny to the manor after school.

In the meantime, he pulled out his phone with a frown.

Timkerbell

You better not be sleeping in the Pizzeria again

Snowdan

Me? Pshh, nah, I’d never. What are you talking about.

Timkerbell

I can’t believe you. You didn’t even say goodbye!

Snowdan

I will literally see you at school in an hour

Timkerbell

I can’t believe you’d rather be homeless than stay in a frikin manor. You know we’re rich right? One extra person isn’t a big deal.

Snowdan

You guys said I could leave when the snow stopped.

Timkerbell

Yeah because we thought you’d want to stay! You know that right? Literally everyone misses you. Even Damian.

Snowdan

Okay but I did say I was still gonna leave. Many times.

Timkerbell

Snowdan

Seriously. I don’t want to be a bother. Or have my family show up at your doorstep unannounced.

Timkerbell

Uh. Why would they do that

Snowdan

No reason.

On an unrelated note, if anyone in Blue/Orange jumpsuits or White suits show up at your door don’t let them in.

Timkerbell

Ah. That explains absolutely nothing thanks

Snowdan

Ur welcome. See u in class ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

Tim frowned. So maybe people were still hunting Danny? The jumpsuits were obviously his parents, and the white suits is the Guys in White. Did Danny know that Tim would get the reference? Was it a warning of some sort? Tim rubbed his head, thinking of the impending headache this was gonna cause. Either way, if Danny was subtly warning them he’s still being hunted, then he should know they can handle themselves. And that they can protect him a whole lot better if he actually stayed in the manor.

Sighing, Tim got ready for school and made his way to the car. At least Alfred sent him with some cookies to give Danny. Or bribe him. Tim wasn’t opposed to blackmail.

Chapter 18

#Phantom of Gotham #Danny Phantom #dcxdp #dpxdc

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achaotichuman · 2 months

Text

Kidnapped by the Faery Queen

TAMLIN WEEK IS HERE AND I AM HAPPY

This is for Day 1- Prompt: Human Tamlin.

For this one, I decided on writing an AU where Tamlin and Feyre's roles are reversed, Tamlin is the human mortal and Feyre is the High Lady.

This fic is mostly Tamlin making dumb decisions and feylin fluff at the end as well as banter between Tamlin & Lucien & Feyre! It focuses mostly on Tamlin's first impressions of the SC and the gang. It doesn't follow the canon events of what led Feyre to Tamlin because idk I wanted to write this instead.

You can read on Ao3, or below the cut!

There was something thundering in his chest, urging him faster and faster and faster. Rocketing through the woods. Passing by trees bending at the trunk like they might keel over. An archway created overhead that dappled the silvery light of the moon. Splashes across the snow like pearls of light. It was clear above, not a cloud to remove the paleness of the mood from the world.

It was dark and cold, and never-ending snow, but he had to run. He had to feel the crunch of grass blades hidden underneath blankets of undisturbed white. He had to feel his muscles ache and burn with warmth as the chill of the air caused his face to flush. Heart racing, an owl cried overhead, its song breaking through the silence of the air. Cutting through like a sewing needle piercing intricate strings of fabric.

He only looked up momentarily to see the flutter of soft wings darting from a tree branch through the air, before the animal was long gone from sight. He quickened his pace. Until he must have been a blur in between the tree trunks. Running with shadows, in the darkest parts of the woods. Deeper and deeper to the heart, he must have looked to be a part of the forest itself. Some indiscernible creature running as if for its life. A spooked deer, a bird flying low to the ground. A lost spirit running through the inbetween of the realms.

Something inhuman and ghastly. Something that children would see from the corner of their eyes and quickly grab their mother’s skirts whilst pointing in between the trees. Only to find the shadow they had seen was long gone.

Eventually he was forced to stop. Legs burning so much the fire seemed to consume his muscles. It was a miracle he was still standing as he hunched over and panted, hands on his knees, heart thundering behind his ribs. Breath fogging in the chilled air. Strands of his golden blond hair fell around his face. Quickly he brushed them behind his hood once more. The rough wool of his gloves harsh on his sensitive, flushed face.

Taking a slow step forward, Tamlin looked through the treelines. Adjusting his thick coat before pulling the bow strapped around him off his back, and drawing an arrow. Instincts telling him he was a fool, an idiot for coming so far out at this time. But he had to get away. The wind that pummelled against the frail glass of his shared bedroom window called to him. Singing his name like a prayer falling from a devout believer. He was helpless but to strap on his weapons, excitedly gathering his gear. Only sparing a second thought to quickly shut the window, lest he wake his older brothers who laid soundly asleep.

But now as he looked around at the dark woods, he realised how stupid he was to come out here tonight. In the cold, where he had nothing but the footprints he made to track his way back home. Even that could quickly be eliminated by more snowfall.

There was a sudden noise from behind him, the sound of a crunch, like a foot on a stick.

Tamlin whipped around, drawing his arrow. Heart racing and preparing to duck for cover.

“Oh.” He whispered into the soft night.

A stag stared at him curiously. It’s beady black eyes shining in the pale light. The majestic antlers gracing its head stuck out in so many twining directions. It had one foot lifted above a broken twig. So still and watching.

Tamlin kept the arrow drawn. Never wavering and never lowering. His body stiller than a slingshot pulled back, ready to be fired. Like his muscles were elastic and stretched to the limit.

Then the stag…

Just turned its head, moving its feet finally, crushing the snow below it as it leisurely strolled back into the woods. Into the darkness and out of sight.

Tamlin’s eyes rolled as he lowered his bow, huffing. Puffs of white clouded in front of his face and he stomped the snow, digging into it until he saw blades of icy green, black in the little light. He must be truly going insane.

Lost to the sensations of cold nighttime, he left the cottage in favour of running blindly into a dangerous woods, where wolves lurked about in the dark hours of morning. He was stupid beyond comprehension. His mother must have dropped him as a child, because there was in no way that a normal person thought the wind called for them.

Unless..

Tamlin snapped up his bow again as a growl vibrated through the woods. Travelling through the air like claws reaching out. It echoed, as another growl joined it, followed by a third and a fourth.

They emerged from the darkness. With fur a dark grey that glimmered in the silvery light. Teether bared and eyes stoking flames. Four powerful wolves circled him slowly.

Tamlin was frozen in place. Muscles locked up as his body went into fight or flight mode. In a moment of utter terror, mind replaced entirely with fear. He ran.

It was a terrible decision, as then the wolves pounced.

Tamlin tried to duck down, screaming. Hoping someone equally as stupid as him had come out here during the night, hopefully with an axe or a mace. A large claw descended on him, and Tamlin screamed again as it slashed his abdomen. Blood poured from his stomach. Soaking his clothes. The four were on him, a pile of raw flesh for the taking. There was nothing he could do as he felt teeth sink into his arm, preparing to pierce flesh.

Then a roar more powerful than any of the snarling wolves shattered the night sky.

The large furred heads of the wolves jutted up, ears falling back, completely flat. The roar echoed again, similar to a snarled warning. They began to whimper and whine.

Then it appeared, and Tamlin felt all the blood drain from his face, nearly fainting on the spot.

Its fur completely white, with black spots covering its hide. Eyes yellow and gleaming. A jaw full of bone white teeth. Scraping black claws across the snow as it prowled forward. Snarling once more.

The wolves barked and whined, and fled. Leaving Tamlin a heap of bloodied human meat. He almost wished the wolves had finished him off, so he wouldn't be faced with the hulking beast walking slowly to him. Its pace taunting, knowing he had no way to get away from it. If he ran, it would catch him. There was no possible route that allowed his mortal legs to outrun this powerful creature.

Soon it was looming above him. Tamlin’s neck ached as he stretched his head up to keep eye contact with the creature. It cocked its head in an almost human manner, as if pondering something.

Only one thought ran through his head, and it just made the situation all the more terrifying.

This is a Fae. This is a Fae. This is a Fae. This is a Fae. This is a Fae.

It was undeniable. The creature was not mortal. It moved too gracefully. Was too pristine. Too big to be any kind of naturally occurring animal. This was a monster from the depths of the Faery lands. And it had crossed the border into these woods.

Horror coursed through his body as Tamlin thought that the calling from the wind was the Faery creature, he truly ran right into a trap.

“Please.” He begged weakly. Blood was rushing too quickly from his wounds. Splattering crimson across the pure white snow. A pattern of scarlet red. Something wet and horrible dripped down his face and Tamlin realised he was crying as he was faced with the terrible creature above him.

But it simply watched, making his fear grow, cold pressed into his body, as the wolves had torn his clothes and revealed skin to the freezing cold. For a moment Tamlin wondered if the monster would let him die first before feasting on his flesh. Faery cruelty. Maybe he would die from pure fear before the bleeding out could take him.

Black swirled in and out of his vision. Until his blinking was coming slower and longer. The beast just watched. Tamlin felt coldness spread up his back, neck and head. He had fallen back into the snow, his eyes could see nothing but darkness, silver and yellow eyes. Before they finally closed, tears dripping hot from the corner of his eyes.

I never said goodbye to anyone, he thought as darkness embraced him.

When he woke up, pain was spidering through his abdomen and arm. Lingering in his body and refusing to release him. He groaned loudly and shifted, trying to feel anything other than the horrid burning sensations in his skin. As he did, there was a flurry of whispering around him. He jolted almost immediately. Especially as he realised he was not in cold snow, but laying amongst the softest sheets he had ever felt.

Opening his blurry eyes he tried to take in his surroundings. First he saw a ceiling above him. Pure white, a large golden chandelier hanging in the centre, not lit as sunlight poured in through the large glass pane windows. Casting long shadows through the room. Tamlin tried to sit up, but his body would not part from the stinging pain that consumed him.

“He is awake, alert the High Lady.” A voice like silk whispered harshly from someone in the room.

“What?” He croaked out, voice rough from disuse, he grabbed the sheets in his hands, balling them in his fists. He was squirming as he tried to sit up.

“Hush child, you are safe.” That same silk voice murmured, now closer.

Tamlin managed to crane his neck to the side and there he saw the source of the voice.

He screamed.

Jumping up from the bed, the adrenaline briefing ridding him of the burning pain. He sat up quickly and scrambled away from the right side of the bed. As he stared and stared at the creature looking back at him with a sudden, shocked expression.

Tamlin fell off the side of the bed, onto a soft fluffy mat. He looked around quickly, hearing quick footsteps towards him. He tried to scramble under the bed, just to get away, but she was there again before he could hide.

“You…” His voice left him as he stared, and wondered if his sudden outburst would anger the undoubtedly Faery creature standing before him.

He swallowed hard, tears wetting his eyes, but he blinked them away the best he could. Trying to reach for anything that could be used as a weapon.

Instead, however, of being offended, the woman- or whatever she was- simply put a hand on her hip. Tilting her head to the side, causing wiry brown hair to fall down the side of her shoulder. Her bark-skinned shoulder.

Her skin looked rough to touch. Textured with some knots like in a trunk. As if carved from wood. Though her eyes were filled with life. She raised an eyebrow, causing the texture of her skin to shift as she did.

“I will not hurt you, human.” She said, gently but firmly. Like a mother coaxing a child to come to her.

Tamlin swallowed again, then managed to stammer out, “Why should I believe you, Faery?”

He spat the word with venom. Faeries were creatures that hunted, killed and tortured innocent humans for stupid crimes that could not be considered as such. Like walking into Faery rings, or accidentally getting involved with Faery deals.

She sighed heavily, chest rising and falling. Holding out a hand, she said, “Call me Alis, child.”

“Alis?” He repeated. Then cursed himself, he shouldn’t so much as speak to the creature before him. Yet he continued to stare at her.

She nodded, hand still held out, as if offering it. Tamlin bared his teeth and huddled further away, curling in on himself.

Her head shook and her length of hair shook with it. Turning away from the human man. She went for the door. Opening it up, Tamlin heard the sounds of shouting, crashing and swearing. He flinched hard and ducked further away from the door. Alis sighed lightly, then looked back over at him, “Someone will come soon to prepare you.”

“Prepare me-” Tamlin tried to ask, but before he could, she closed the door. As it clicked shut, Tamlin stared at the bronze handle. Then at the dark oak door itself, before looking around the room.

It was beautiful, that was for certain. All dark, polished wood, bronze and gold. The sheets of the bed were silk, emerald green and the curtains were sheer. The window closed.

Finally, on shaking legs, Tamlin stood, grunting as he grabbed the nearby nightstand for support as the burning pain returned in full. Though dulling as the seconds were by. When he touched his stomach where the slash had been, and found not only was he wearing a different set of clothes, but there was a bandage with some kind of salve over his skin.

Tamlin pulled at the new shirt. It was sleep wear, just a white shirt and soft green pants. He felt his entire body go completely red as he realized someone had undressed and redressed him.

What the fuck was this place? He wrapped his arms around himself, human instincts begging to run and find a place to hide.

Some kind of Faery world. Some kind of place he would no doubt be tortured or hunted for sport. As the stories all liked to go.

Slowly Tamlin sat down on the soft coverlet. Not quite sure where to go from here. What to do. Alis, if she had even given him her real name, said someone would come prepare him.

Prepare him for what?

Tamlin’s first thought was he was going to be turned into some kind of stew. His next thought was he would be dragged out for entertainment. Forced to dance on hot coals until he died or something like that. His toes curled and his body shook as terror seized him once more.

In a wave of energy and the need to get away, Tamlin stumbled for the large and, more importantly, unlocked, window. His bruised fingertips grappled with the frame for a moment before he managed to pull them open.

But when he looked over the edge, his eyes widened when he saw how far up he was from the ground. Far below him, gardens roamed the grounds. Large and spread out. Dappled with colours of all sorts and looking like chaos incarnate. Spread out like twisting, festering vines, roots and branches. With patches of sweet-smelling flowers hidden in between.

Tamlin tossed a look back over at the room. And decided a death by falling would be better than whatever the Faeries had in store for him. So with gritted teeth and while silently cursing his own stupidity. Tamlin leaped over the edge, grabbed onto a nearby ivy plant clinging to the wall and swung away from the window sill.

He swallowed a shout, and quickly found footing in the green netting like plant. Hands burning as he gripped the ivy. He began a quick descent. Even as the branches gave way under his hands, he moved as fast as he could so as to get away before anyone noticed his disappearance.

A cut, a cussing fit, and three new bruises later. The ivy gave out underneath him and Tamlin thumped to the ground with another hissed curse. Luckily he hadn’t been more than three feet off the ground.

Groaning quietly as he picked himself off the floor. Tamlin dusted his shirt from the dirt and wiped as much of the mud smeared on his cheek off as possible. Finally he got to his wobbling legs and looked around.

The gardens looked more like a labyrinth than gardens. Winding around and around, with walls of bushes and large trees bent over like they couldn’t handle standing straight. Moss collected on rocks and stone made pathways through the maze of sweet smelling lands.

It was Springtime.

But they had just been in winter. Spring wasn’t for yet another month.

Another Faery trick. Some kind of magic he wanted no part of. Tamlin snarled at the lily of the valley near him, as if they were directly responsible for him being in Faery territory.

A trick of some sort, to lead him to a trap. Tamlin squeezed his hands into fists and began to walk silently through the gardens. Treading carefully and making absolutely sure he would not break so much as a twig underfoot. His heart thumped behind his rips, rocketing through his body, pulsing in time with each step.

Soon, he turned a corner and was met with a sight more lovely than he had ever seen before.

A courtyard of some kind. Flowing fountains, and trimmed hedges lined the grounds. He saw the extent of the… mansion he had been taken to. Carved from marble and stone. Detailed carefully and so much larger than any house he had ever seen. Tamlin baulked at the sheer size of the place he was in. Everything seemed so much bigger than him, reducing him to the comparable size of an ant.

He nearly stumbled back, but was pulled back into where he was and the danger he was in. Tamlin’s mouth pulled into a snarl and he quickly ducked away from the open area, hiding in between bushes and trees and winding through the rest of the gardens. Trying to find some way out of here.

He found that the grounds were so large and trying to find his way out of them was like being trapped in a maze. As it was he wound up in some kind of small woods. Large tall oaks loomed above him, but he could still smell the pollen behind him, and didn’t know whether he had left the grounds or these woods were still part of the mansion.

Tamlin ignored the knots twisting tighter and tighter in his stomach as he marched forward in the general direction of South, (or what he hoped was South). He ignored the chill that spread over his skin, making his mind beg to turn back. He kept going further and further and further, until it was looking dark above, maybe that was the thick brush getting thicker and thicker as he went.

It was nerves he told himself, not real, just flight or fight making him jumpy.

But as he went further, he could have sworn something like a finger brushed his shoulder. Tamlin leapt away with a shout. Brushing off his clothes like he was trying tog et rid of a bug. His body kept washing over and over with fear so intense it paralysed him. Shaking, stumbling back he scanned the world but saw nothing at all.

Nothing, it was nothing, just nerves or a bug that had fallen on him. It had to be, there was nothing else out here.

Still he picked up the pace, going faster and faster and faster until he broke out into a sprint, heading further and further into the dark forest. Running for his life, trying to reach the border, to get back to his family, to his world. Not this place. Anywhere but this terrifying place.

Then more chills fell down his spine, rolling through his like waves lapping at a sandy shore. Tamlin stumbled but kept running, not turning back, not looking back for a single second.

Something like a hand reached out, brushing his hair and shoulder, wrapping around his neck. A scream curled in his throat and he grabbed a branch as he ran, tearing it away and keeping it like a sword at his side. Still whatever was behind him started to whisper. Cruel cold words he didn’t understand but knew anyway, threats, promises of eating him alive.

A roar, a roar that he remembered from the night, however long ago it was, he had been kidnapped.

It rattled the ground, Tamlin fell to the floor, scraping his knees and elbows, but not caring as the land shuddered. The trees around him seemed to bend to the sound. Whatever had shattered the sky once more had power here and it rippled through the world.

All at once the whispering ceased, and a shriek of terror and pain ripped through the world. Tamlin hid under a large root and curled in on himself, hiding away, not daring to even breath loud.

In a second it was over, and silence filled the air once more. But only for a single second, before a low growl tore the ground and footsteps followed, getting closer, and closer, and closer.

He didn’t have many options. None at all really.

Tamlin clung to the stick he had grabbed, and as a huff of warm air from around the shelter of the root breathed over him. A rush of adrenaline fueled his body.

Tamlin leapt up from underneath the root, with barely a second to spare he pulled the stick and launched it at the creature with all the might in his body.

It hit the beast’s jaw with a thud, followed by a roar of pain from the creature as it stumbled back, reeling from the hit.

Tamlin took no time in pondering how he had just signed his death warrant. Instead he took off through the woods. Rocketing through at lightning speeds, desperately forcing his way through the brush. The beast shouted a battle cry once more as it raced after him. He could hear it pounding behind him on all fours.

He was prey in a trap, little more than game to be hunted.

Tamlin ran faster and faster and faster-

He smacked into a very hard, very solid form and fell back on the ground.

Reeling with dizziness. Tamlin forced his way up, thinking he had hit a tree.

The idea he smacked into a tree was quickly shattered as a sly voice crooned from above him, “Well isn’t this interesting? We were looking for you, little fawn, and here you are running right back to us.”

Tamlin forced his eyes up and his eyes went wide. A tall man grinned wickedly down at him, dark skin gleaming in the sunlight above, red hair spilling down his back and shoulders like waves of scarlet. His face was half covered by a gilded fox-shaped mask. Underneath a scar over his right eye was plain to see, inside the eye socket instead of a normal eyeball, was instead a golden contraption that mimicked his other eye.

It seemed the tree he had hit was the man’s chest. Tamlin felt himself go very red, then white as he saw the long pointed ears sticking out from in amongst the locks of crimson.

He scrambled back, but the fox masked man just raised an eyebrow, “Don’t run away again, little fawn, it won’t go well for you.”

Tamlin snarled as he got to his feet and pulled up his stick with him, holding it like a sword, “Get the fuck away from me.”

Little fawn, they were matched in height, granted Tamlin hadn’t eaten a full meal in who knew how long so they weren’t quite matched in build. But Tamlin had never been a man to look down upon.

Except this creature wasn’t man. Rather Faery creature.

Tamlin tried not to let his fear show.

However, the Faery seemed less inclined to toy with him, instead turning his eyes to something behind Tamlin, “Feyre! I found your wayward doe, ran right to me.”

Tamlin went completely still as heavy footsteps thundered behind him. The beast, he had forgotten about the beast.

Tamlin bared a glance over his shoulder and there it stood. As terrifying and horrible as when he had seen it scare away those wolves from tearing him to shreds. It was so, so much bigger than him. With those glinting yellow eyes that glared down at them.

Tamlin felt like passing out. But held his ground as he tried to step away, to get away.

But he hit the Faery behind him again, and quickly reeled away. The fox-masked man cackled, and Tamlin kept looking in between the beast and the Faery.

Caught between a rock and hard place, with no escape.

Shit.

In a split second, as Tamlin considered just making a break and running for it. There was a sudden glow of gold, a brightness that had Tamlin shielding his eyes, it was gone in a moment, and suddenly he heard quieter steps coming toward him.

“Yes, yes, an applause for you Lucien.” A snarky voice quipped.

“I do try,” The fox-masked man, Lucien, said.

Tamlin, however, did not look at Lucien, supposedly, behind him as his eyes went astronomically wide as he saw who now replaced the form of the beast.

In the glow, fur had turned to skin and horns had disappeared. Paws were now hands and yellow eyes had turned to blue ones.

A woman stepped out towards him. In a green tunic with a quiver of arrows on her back, as well as a bow. Her boots thudded against the ground, and her braid of brown hair slung over her shoulder. Her eyes were cold as she walked towards him. Face half hidden, like Lucien, by a mask. This mask however, was gilded gold and shaped like the face of the beast. Her eyes kept glancing at the stick in his hand, a drop of blood welled on her jaw, the small scratch quickly beginning to heal itself.

It seemed Lucien caught quickly on to why the stick was in Tamlin’s hand and why the female Faery had a slight scratch on her jaw a sudden cackle was torn from him, “Oh, the human got you in the jaw, Feyre? Isn’t that something Alis will be dying to hear of.”

“Quiet Lucien,” Feyre, the beast, said, narrowing her eyes in a predatory way.

“But it’s so much fun to speak.” Lucien said.

Feyre ignored him as her eyes went back to Tamlin, “You escaped your rooms, how?”

Tamlin snarled, and lifted the stick again like he might try to strike her and run. His mother had driven it into him to never hit girls, but his brothers had driven it into him to give back what people gave him.

And in this moment, he thought killing a Faery in order to escape a kidnapping sounded pretty even for what they had given him.

“Feisty eh?” Lucien crooned.

Feyre let out a slow release of breath through her nose, then her eyes turned back to Lucien, “Take him back to Rosehall, have the servants prepare him for supper.”

So they were going to turn him into stew.

“Now, little fawn, no need to go so pale, no one will be eating you.” Lucien said as he prowled around to face Tamlin, practically reading the thoughts going through his head. Lucien then looked him up and down slowly before adding, “Not in that regard at least.”

“Don’t be crass.” Feyre chided, waving her hand, “I’ve had enough of hide and go seek, take him back and lock the windows this time.”

“Wait-” Tamlin started, but Lucien just rolled his eyes at Feyre and grabbed his arm. Tamlin tried to reef it away, but all of a sudden he was swept into darkness.

It felt like he was falling through flames, through dark flames that wouldn't burn him. It only happened for a few seconds before his knees hit wood and he looked around to find himself back in the room he had woken up in. Lucien was standing above him as Tamlin tried to catch his breath after having it stolen from his lungs.

“Get him dressed… and somewhat clean.” Lucien ordered someone in the room.

“Yes my lord,” A male voice responded. Tamlin looked up to see a sweet-faced boy with blue skin and fluttering wings. He had long black hair and black eyes. Despite the terrifying Faery features, he seemed gentle and kind.

“Good, have him ready in fifteen minutes, sundown approaches.” Lucien started to head for the door.

“Stop!” Tamlin shouted, causing the red-head to look back over his shoulder.

“Where am I?” Tamlin asked, needing to know, to have some idea.

Lucien gave a small smirk, “Why you’re in Prythian, little fawn, welcome to the Spring Court.”

Without another word, he opened the door and closed it behind him.

Tamlin looked up at the Faery servant, who smiled gently.

Tamlin met the gesture with a growl.

In hindsight, he made the poor man’s life so much harder than it needed to be. But either he expected it, or was used to it, as whenever Tamlin refused to cooperate, it was met with indifference and repetition of whatever order he had been given. Whether that be to take off his shirt, sit still for his hair to be brushed, or to even get into the sweet-smelling bathwater.

He felt a little like an obstinate toddler, but for the Gods sakes, they had kidnapped him. Who in their right mind thought he, of all the people in the world, would go along with this easily?

The blue Faery only said they had all night whenever Tamlin sat on the floor and glared at the wall. Tamlin reminded him with a snappy tone that they only had fifteen minutes, his words were met with silence, which only served to anger him further.

Somehow, through patience and a lot of counting to ten, the blue Faery had him clean and sitting at a vanity, glaring at him through the mirror as his nimble finger braided his unruly blond hair into a long braid.

“You know I was forced here too.” The blue Faery said. At that Tamlin blinked suddenly.

“What?”

“I come from another land, another Court. The Court of Summer. I was forced to leave when my village was struck. The bandits that plundered my father’s house killed every living person, but missed me as I escaped through the window with my sister.”

“Oh.” Tamlin said, not really knowing how to react.

“Mm,” he hummed, “We had not a mark on us. We didn’t know where we were going. Our village was the closest to Spring, we accidently crossed over here, into the Spring Court and had no choice but to go further in, hunger pushed us, and my sister died on the walk through the woods.”

“I…” Tamlin suddenly felt incredibly guilty for the way he had been acting, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I carried her all the way through Spring, until eventually the High Lady found me whilst she was patrolling with sentries. Her majesty, bless her reign, took me in and gave me a job in her household. My sister had a proper burial and I have lived here ever since.”

Tamlin fiddled with his fingers. Watching the Faery behind him as his fingers began to weave daises through the braid, “That must have been… scary.”

“It was, I didn’t like being here at first, even though I was just met with kindness. I snapped at a lot of people and worked as alone as I could. But after long enough I grew to love my new position. And I am thankful to the Lady for rescuing me.”

“That’s… that’s good.”

He smiled into the mirror, “Did you have any family?”

Did, as if they were dead, gone, as if he would never see them again.

He supposed he wouldn’t. Not now that he is here.

Not that the family he did have were much of a family.

“Sort of.” Tamlin mumbled, “My two older brothers and my father.”

He nodded, “I see.”

The Faery looked at him as if he expected Tamlin to continue, when Tamlin just stared back blankly he looked back down at the braid he was making. Tamlin cast his eyes down to his rough fingers, scarred from times he had nicked the skin with arrows.

“There.” He eventually said, “All ready.”

Tamlin looked at his reflection, and barely recognised it.

His skin was clean and gleaming with hydration from the obscene amount of creams and oils the Faery had forcibly rubbed into his body. His hair was for once, untangled and smooth, braided nicely with some curls peeking out. His hair was curly from his mother’s side, whilst he had his father’s pale complexion. He inherited the impossible curls from his mother.

The clothes he wore weren’t stained or torn, rather pressed. A white shirt and green waistcoat with golden detailing. Brown trousers, with shiny dark brown, leather shoes. All of it worth more than his brothers would say he was worth. Though his brothers liked to say if they sold him for two marks, someone would bargain for lower.

“It's time to go.” The blue Faery said, waving him up from the vanity. This time, Tamlin stood with no complaints, which the Faery seemed to be pleased with.

“What’s your name?” Tamlin found himself asking. Mentally slapping himself.

“Tain.” He replied, “Yours?”

“Tamlin.” Tamlin murmured.

“A pleasure to serve you, Tamlin.” Tain said, bowing his head.

“A pleasure to meet you, Tain.” Tamlin replied, awkwardly bowing his head, not quite sure what to do.

Tain quickly took him to leave the room. Opening the creaking door Tamlin saw the glorious extent of the interior of the manor.

It was all gilded and polished and glowing. Large windows with sunlight flooding the halls. Paintings filled the walls. And the white and black chequered tiles in the hallways were covered by handmade, intricate rugs.

It was all so expensive looking Tamlin found himself open-mouth gawking at it. More than once Tain had to snap at him to close his mouth and move quicker.

Tamlin obeyed, still reeling a little from Tain’s story.

It was in no time at all that they were going down a flight of stairs and walking to a room down a hallway, which had the large door wide open, and the sound of two voices arguing flowing from it.

“You didn’t think to lock the window!” A woman shouted.

“I didn’t think a human could scale down four stories!” A man shot back.

“I told you to take precautions-” The woman started to reply before she cut herself off.

Tamlin and Tain rounded the corner into the room, and Tamlin found himself staring at the two who had caught him earlier.

Feyre, the beast who had kidnapped him and scared him two ways to death, was sitting at the head of the table. Wearing a gold and green tunic with trousers similar to his own, only more tailored. Her hair, instead of in a braid, was flowing down in waves over her back, with a ring of gold around her head. She leaned her cheek against her head as she looked from Tamlin to Lucien. Her fingers tapping her mask.

Lucienn was standing behind the seat on Feyre’s right. His eye clicked as he looked over Tamlin. Wearing a blue, fitted tunic and black pants. Rings covering his fingers, and his hair braided back. He regarded Tamlin with a grin, “Tain you work magic once again.”

“Thank you my lord.” Tain bowed low at the waist.

“Thank you Tain, you may retire.” Feyre said.

“Thank you, my High Lady.” Tain said, still bowing. After a second, he stood straight and left the room.

High Lady. Tamlin whipped his eyes back to Feyre, who regarded him with a look of boredom.

So this was the High Lady, the mistress of this house.

Of this… Court.

Lucien slunk down into his seat, not seeming to need confirmation from his Lady. He crossed one leg over the other, and tapped his finger against the arm of his chair, he looked over at Feyre and half-discreetly cleared his throat.

Feyre shot him a withering glare before looking back at Tamlin, leaning back in her chair and she looked him up and down, “You didn’t manage to escape again.”

Lucien cleared his throat again, louder this time. Tamlin scrutinised him with big green eyes. Feyre glared at him.

The High Lady, or whatever she was, turned back to him, “What was your name?”

Lucien’s eye roll was made audible by the clicking of his eye. Feyre’s eye twitched rapidly.

“Why should I tell you that?” Tamlin spat with venom on his tongue.

“Because if you don’t this is going to be a lot harder for you.” Feyre snarled at him.

“My Lady.” Lucien murmured in warning.

Feyre let out something between a sigh and a hiss, “My name is Feyre, his is Lucien.” She said as she jutted a fork towards Lucien.

“I gathered.” Tamlin said deadpan.

“You know our names, so I must know yours.” Feyre said, “So?”

Tamlin wondered if that was some kind of Faery bargain exchange, he considered not answering but the look of growing frustration on Feyre’s face told him to just say it, there wasn’t much he would be able to hide for long if he was to be some sort of slave here.

“Tamlin.” He said, “My name is Tamlin.”

“Like the ballad?” Lucien asked, “The Ballad of Tam Lin?”

“Exactly like the Ballad of Tam Lin.” Tamlin watched Lucien from the corner of his eye.

“Something your mother liked then.” Feyre murmured as she watched Tamlin.

Tamlin furrowed his brow, “What?”

Feyre shrugged, “I am assuming your father didn’t come up with the name, so your mother did, meaning she liked the Ballad of Tam Lin.”

Tamlin swallowed, “It was her favourite.”

Feyre hummed in acknowledgment, and from the corner of his eye Tamlin saw Lucien give something like an encouraging nod.

The High Lady sighed quietly and jutted her head to the seat at her left, as she dug her fork and knife into the plate of steaming food before her, “Sit.”

Tamlin remained standing, after a minute passed, Feyre looked up at him through her eyebrows, “Sit.” She commanded again.

Tamlin crossed his arms and met her scowl with obstinance.

Unlike Tain, Feyre did not care for his antics, nor cared for patience.

Something that felt like invisible hands grabbed him, even when he screamed and thrashed, they didn’t relent, pulling him to sit in that seat, then tying him to the chair with invisible ropes. He struggled and pulled and kicked but Feyre just went back to eating. Only Lucien made a slow head turn to Feyre with a look of barely concealed anger. She just shrugged the red-heads expression off.

“Let me go!” Tamlin shouted.

“Eat.” She ordered.

“I refuse.” He said.

“Then starve.” She hissed, “Either way you are not moving.”

“I believe what the High Lady means.” Lucien cut in, “Is that you have to eat eventually, so please would you eat what has been prepared.”

“That isn’t exactly what I meant.” Feyre mumbled through a mouthful of thick steak.

Even through his stubbornness, Tamlin felt his stomach growling with hunger, he hadn’t eaten anything other than stale crackers and some boiled potatoes in two months. And what he ate before that was little more than tomato soups and salted meat.

Magic took the plate before him, lifting it with invisible hands and filling it with the meat, vegetables, breads and fruits from the feast before him, before setting it down before him.

Tamlin stared at the dinner, and his mind went back to what could be happening back in the cottage.

Remembering the inventory of their kitchen, there were a few boxes of crackers left and some jars of preserved vegetables he had managed to convince his brothers not to eat until the dead of winter, when they would undoubtedly get snowed in and be unable to hunt for any meat.

Those jars would be gone in a matter of days without Tamlin to mediate his hungry brothers from taking them. Neither had ever cared for long-term survival, not since they fell into poverty.

“Eat.” The High lady ordered again.

Tamlin scowled, but when he tugged his right hand, it was released. He took up a fork and began to stab at a roasted carrot.

“Does the carrot owe you money, Tamlin?” Lucien asked with a laugh in his voice.

Tamlin shot him a frightful glare and the laughing from his eyes fell away into annoyance, he looked at Feyre and mumbled, “God really did make two of em.”

“Shut your two-faced mouth, Lucien.” Feyre said as she too stabbed at her vegetables.

Tamlin breathed something of a laugh, at which both of their heads shot up to stare at him.

The almost laugh was strangled in a second as he growled low again and shoved the mutilated carrot in his mouth.

Feyre snarled something softly at Lucien and he just grinned at Tamlin, taking a fork and elegantly piercing a potato.

“So, Tamlin, you wandered to our side, where were you before that?” The fox like Faery asked with a sly look in his eyes. Tamlin didn’t trust it for a second.

“Why would I tell you that?” He nearly spat.

Lucien shrugged, “Making conversation.”

“Enough, Lucien.” Feyre said, “We don’t need to listen to your quibbling while we’re eating.”

“Says the great chatterbox High lady.” Lucien said with an eyeroll. Feyre answered with narrowed eyes and a claw appearing on the edge of her finger. Lucien quietened down but not without mumbling something about ‘dramatics.’

A few minutes past in a tense silence. One that had Tamlin’s muscles coiling tighter and tighter with every passing second.

Finally all the tension seemed to snap in him and he asked, “Why am I here?”

Both Faeries went still, too still, in a way that Tamlin couldn’t see a flicker of movement, not even in their breathing. It unnerved him and suddenly he wished he hadn’t asked.

Feyre glanced at Lucien before she ultimately said, “You listened to the singing winds and came to us, but that you are bound to our world.”

The answer made little sense to him. Tamlin found his eyes narrowing even further, “You tricked me.”

Feyre scoffed, “Tricked? The singing winds send out a song every seven years, it isn’t our fault that your kind doesn’t want against our magic playing.”

***

Sitting at the edge of a brook, Tamlin picked up a smooth, round stone. Briefly running his thumb over the surface. Barely a rough spot on its steel grey top. Casting green eyes over the gentle stream of crystal clear water running in between rocks and over slopes, heading downhill into the forest. He aggressively tossed the rock into the water, watching it splash. Droplets splattered across the sleeve of his white shirt.

Footsteps echoed behind him, making him jolt slightly, he cast his eyes over his shoulder and saw the form heading for him.

Her hair was in it’s usual braid, hanging behind her hair. Pretty face carved with lines of exhaustion, her stormy eyes were softer than usual, having a kinder tint to them. Her hands were folded neatly behind her. Wearing brown hunting pants and a green tunic with a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back. Her belt was filled with hunting knives, all carved to the handle resembled the bud of a rose.

Tamlin turned back around, another stupid decision, to turn his back on a Faery creature. But he had so far been here a month and they hadn’t killed him yet.

Feyre sat down beside him. Spreading one leg out and bending the other up.

“So.” She started, her voice a gentle hum, though there was an air of awkwardness as she tried to come up with what to say, “how has your day been so far?”

Tamlin threw her a suspicious look, narrowing his eyes as he hesitantly responded, “Fine.”

She nodded, meeting his glare with an almost glare of her own before she seemed to catch herself and turned back to the bubbling brook.

“You like hunting right?” She asked, seeming to find something to talk about.

At that he cast her a strange look, “Where did you get that idea?”

She shrugged as she leaned back on the palms of her hands, stretching out both legs, “You had a bow and quiver full of very sharp arrows that day I found you in the woods. You seemed to know how to handle them. Therefore you must hunt.”

He answered the Faery with a shrug of his own, drawing some kind of stick figure in the ground, “I hunt out of necessity.”

She blinked at that, tilting her head in a near animalistic manner. It caused Tamlin’s heart to start thumping against his ribcage, like an animal remembering they were prey in a dog’s kennel.

“Interesting.” She murmured. A ray of sun peeked through the folds of the leaves above and shone across Feyre’s face. Her freckles seemed to glow in the gold in the air. She lifted her chin up ever so slightly, as if basking in the added warmth on her.

Tamlin looked away again as his heart kept beating faster and faster.

***

“You’re kidding.” Tamlin hid his own laugh behind his palm.

Feyre flopped back into the grass behind her, crushing wildflowers. They framed the back of her glowing, locks of burnt honey hair. She grinned up at him with sparkling eyes, “Nope. I scared that fox so much he grabbed the chandelier.”

“I didn’t think he’d be so easily spooked.” Not at all, though it was a very fun idea to think of Lucien being scared shitless by Feyre appearing out of a closet so suddenly. Tamlin stared down at the Faery woman below him. She held his eyes as her hand lifted off the soft grass. Brushing a golden strand behind his ear.

“How are you faring here?” She asked in a quieter voice.

As the months had gone on, Tamlin had found himself getting more and more used to this new world. Coming to a deeper understanding that he wasn’t going home and quickly learning to not mourn that fact. It was nice that he didn’t have to share a bed with his horrible brothers any longer, but the fact that he could not know for certain if his family was fine did eat away at him a little.

“I am concerned for my family, but I am learning how to live here.” Tamlin revealed, a sliver closer into him. He had been letting her get closer and closer. Feyre hadn’t at first seemed someone to care about what went on in his head, but as the days went on, he found himself more and more drawn into her.

Feyre gave a small smile, “If it's of any condolences. I did have quite the sum of money sent to them.”

Tamlin’s eyes suddenly snapped down to Feyre once more, “What?”

“After I figured out about your family, and where they were located, I sent them money, a nice house and a carriage. They are well-cared for.”

“How…” How did she find them?

Feyre just winked, “Call it magic.”

“You are…” Tamlin let out a breathless laugh as he lightly smacked her arm. She laughed hard, as she forced herself to sit up. To look over the rolling hills, grazing the edge of the horizon. The sun setting in the distance allowed for oranges, reds, purples and pinks to pain the sky with a thousand different brush strokes. Tamlin watched it all with a cocked head, before he turned to Feyre. What he saw made him blink as he watched her.

Her eyes were set on the horizon and on the myriad of colours. The sheer amount of diversity in the sky seemed to make her light up. She folded her arms around her knees as she stared off into the distance. Seemingly oblivious to anything or anyone outside of it.

“I would paint this.” Feyre sighed.

“You paint?” Tamlin asked, another strange thing he had learned about the Faery. He tucked it away in the deep corner of his mind.

“Yeah.” Feyre hummed. Before she quickly straightened out and her face went blank.

“I used to,” She clarified, “then… then a blight came over Prythian and I just haven't had the time for such things anymore.”

“Why don’t you paint now?’ Tamlin asked.

“Excuse me?” Feyre reacted before Tamlin even realized he had blurted the words out. His stupid tongue revealing his own stupid thoughts. Only to be born with a filter.

‘I said.” Tamlin started to repeat, “Why don’t you paint right now?”

She blinked again at him, those big eyes boring into him as she studied his frame.

“Maybe,” A small smile graced her lips, “You think I should?”

“Yes,” Tamlin answered, “I absolutely think you should.”

‘I want you too,’ He was trying to say. ‘I want you too.’

“Okay,” she said, “Okay then.”

With a wave of her hand suddenly a sketchbook appeared as well as a tray of paints and water and brushes. She glanced over at Tamlin's curious eyes as she picked up a brush.

She smiled gently, more gentle than any smile he had seen from her yet, she grabbed a nearby brush and with another flick of her wrist another sketchbook appeared in her hand. Feyre handed it over to him, causing Tamlin to furrow his brows.

What's this for? He asked.

“For you,” she said with an eye roll to which Tamlin shook his head.

“I don't paint.”

You can try,” Was all she answered with.

Who was he to argue with that?

So he did.

He did paint and he was awful at it, in fact it was a monstrosity that they both laughed at until their stomach hurt. Tamlin let the sketchbook in his hands slip onto the grassy floor, not wanting to look at the horror of pink and blue he had created any longer. He glanced over Feyre's shoulder. Where she was hunched over herself, painting with quick, precise strokes that mesmerized him.

And the work she made, the painting itself... Dear God.

The brush strokes were never ending, and the color blended into the page creating a timeless, seamless picture. Near a replica of the ever-fading sunset before them. Tamlin stared at the picture, the rolling hills and dark trees on the horizon. The buttery sun fading away and giving off a gradient of colors that eventually etched the night sky and the twinkling stars started to spot like the freckles on Feyre's face.

Tamlin awe must have shown on his face for Feyre blushed hard and coughed, “It's not that good but I-”

“Feyre look at my painting then at yours and tell me yours isn’t good again.” He told her, never taking his eyes off the sketch in her hands.

Feyre laughed hard at that, and Tamlin decided something right there and then.

Maybe being kidnapped by a Faery Queen wasn’t all that bad.

@tamlinweek

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