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redschillzone · 4 years

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Short Stuff (Hela x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Hela x Fem!Reader

Prompt: 24. “Why are you so short?” | Prompts

Word Count: 2.4k Words

Warnings: None :)

Summary: Hela is amused by the reader and slowly but surely begins to fall for them.

A/N: This was originally going to be a short one but whoops xD I hope you guys enjoy it!

She couldn’t help but watch your small form as you pulled yourself up onto your pegasus and she gave her head a small tilt; She was amazed that you had even managed to get onto the horse at all to be honest. You seemed to be on the rather.. Small side in terms of height. Then again, most people on Asgard were just rather tall including herself so when she spotted you in the large group of Valkyries you could say her interest had peaked. Fenris just gave a small snort as he watched the rather small horses around him, a low growl escaping his throat whenever one got too close for his liking and all Hela could do was lightly pat at his side as she stood beside him and watched those around her. You could feel her piercing blue gaze on you; It had been on you all day and you were just about ready to snap at Hela to figure out why she was staring at you but you knew now wasn’t the time. You’d have to attempt it at a later time because right now you were needed for training to show that you and the others were still in top shape to help Odin and Hela with their fights. Once Odin had given you all the cue, you flew your pegasus’ into the air and away you went. Hela couldn’t help but hum lowly as she glanced at her father.

“Father.. Who was that? The one leading them? I don’t believe I’ve met her fully yet...” She had questioned, running her fingers through Fenris’ fur as he laid nearby and watched the skies quietly as Hela and Odin the same. Odin gave a small hum in return before he responded.

“Her name is (Y/N). She became a Valkyrie a little over two years ago and has since risen in the ranks. She now leads the Valkyrie into battle when we go.” Odin had informed his daughter, looking at her then back towards the sky as he watched as the training continued. Hela gave a small nod as she also returned her attention to the skies, her eyes landing on you within moments. The way your hair flew through the wind as you concentrated on your target, the way you somehow were able to keep your cool being so high off the ground and being on a winged horse no less; You were fearless, Hela had assumed, and you were determined to show just what you had to offer and you did just that. It wasn’t long before you and the other girls returned to the ground, the hooves of the pegasus’ clopping against the ground as they made their landing. Odin couldn’t help but give a warm smile as he went and applauded you all.

“That was spectacular and I couldn’t have expected anything better from you girls.” He had said, the smile still on his face as you returned the gesture, a few of the other girls doing the same as they bowed their head towards him. Hela on the other hand remained quiet and glanced at you all over before she returned her attention to you, giving a small hum as she began to play with Fenris’ fur once more; It was as though doing such a thing kept her grounded. For what reason she didn’t know herself. She had this weird feeling in her stomach and it felt as though she was going to be sick but it wasn’t a physical kind of sickness; It was as though butterflies had begun to grow in her stomach and they were fluttering about, trying to find a way out. She didn’t know why she was beginning to feel like this, it had never happened before. It was only when she looked at you and you looked at her that this feeling began to fluster and grow through her and she honestly hated it.

“Hela?” Odin spoke again which caused the female to look over and blink a few times.

“Yes Father?” She questioned the older man to which he gave a low hum and spoke up.

“I said if you had anything to add to what I had said to the girls?” He asked, eyebrow raised as Hela released a breath and gave a small nod as she began to speak up, doing her best to keep her eyes on anyone but you; She was also trying her best to keep her voice strong and strict.

“Excellent flying, girls. Amazing fighting skills as well.. I wouldn’t change a thing you all are doing. Keep up the work.” She spoke to which the girls couldn’t help but grin and relax, you yourself relaxing as you allowed your shoulders to slump as that warm smile appeared on your face. You had proven yourself not only to Odin but to Hela as well and as you two made eye contact, you couldn’t help but blush and glance away as she did the same. She needed to talk to you, to get to know you some more no matter what happened. It was going to take some time, but she was certain the two of you could become friends.

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It had taken her some serious time, about five months to be exact, but you and Hela had somehow managed to grow closer in terms of a friendship. You went from not knowing barely anything about each other to knowing each other's darkest secrets about one another. Whenever you two saw each other, you both could feel the butterflies in your stomach and it just happened to grow now that you two began to talk more and more. The conversations would often go well into the night and one night you clearly remember the sun coming up during the conversation, but neither of you seemed to care so long as you two were together. It was during one of those nights that Hela began to realize she was falling in love with you and she honestly didn’t mind it; She would rather have you then some other person lusting after her and the same went for you. You would rather have Hela by your side then someone who only wanted to be with you because of your ranking, of your title. You both wanted someone who loved you both for your personalities, not the looks. Although those were addons that made the package even better.

You two were currently residing in the garden, sitting on one of the many benches within it as you listened to Hela begin to talk about a recent book she had found to help her with her magic. You had found the topic fascinating, but magic was never really your thing. You never could learn how to do it so you stuck with what you knew best; Swords. As you listened to her speak you began to play with one of the flowers on a nearby bush, eventually pulling it off and spinning the stem of the flower in between your fingers as you listened to Hela talk. Eventually she soon went quiet and watched you quietly, looking your form over quietly. You were out of your normal Valkyrie armor and were wearing a simple, sky blue dress with a pair of sandals to match, within your hair were placed various flowers that you picked and put into your hair as you listened to her talk; You looked beautiful to say the least and you couldn’t help but blink once she went quiet and turned to her, eyebrow raised.

“Is there something wrong, Hela?” You questioned her to which she blushed lightly as you had caught her staring and quickly shook her head, trying to think of a reason for why she had been staring and she would probably forever regret the words that had slipped her mouth.

“No I just um- I uh.. Why are you so short?” She had spurted it out so fast that her brain didn’t even have a moment to register it but once her words had reached her ears she had quickly covered her mouth; Out of all the things she could have come up with to say, that was what came out of her mouth? She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and was more than ready to get up and leave you until she began to hear your laughter. She couldn’t help but blush lightly at your laughter; The noise that left you was heavenly for certain and she couldn’t get enough of it. Whenever she made you laugh she could feel those butterflies growing restless in her stomach and this just so happened to be one of those moments as she watched you.

“W-Why am I so short? Really Hela?” You teased, coming down from your laughing fit as she all but rolled her eyes and mumbled quietly.

“Listen it just came out- I didn’t mean it, my dove.. My brain just completely shut down on me.” She quickly spoke and you blushed lightly at her nickname from you. She had given you that nickname after your third meeting together. You two had snuck out into the town and while there a dove just so happened to land on your shoulder and she couldn’t help but call you that ever since. You of course didn’t mind the nickname one bit and if anything, you had encouraged her to keep using it; Although whenever the nickname did come from her lips you couldn’t help but blush.

“Well.. Why are you so tall, hm?” You shot back which caused Hela to blink and begin to laugh at your remark back at her. You couldn’t help the grin that escaped you as she continued her laughter. Her laughter was intoxicating and it wasn’t a few seconds later that you began to laugh with her. Your combined laughter spread through the garden and Odin couldn’t help but smile from where he stood as he watched you two just at the entrance of the garden. You would be a good fit for his daughter, he thought. You would bring out a new side to her; A side that he all but struggled to bring out no matter what he did and he honestly couldn’t have asked for anyone better to do it besides you. You were the leader of the Valkyrie, a strong group of women who helped him in just about every battle and you managed to even bring out a new side to each and every one of those women. If you were to ask for his daughter's hand he would gladly do so with pride and with that thought in mind he made his leave, turning away and continuing to think on the thought. Hela was the one to see him as he left the area and she couldn’t help but let out a breath and look at you as her laughter began to reside.

“I umm.. (Y/N).. I need to tell you something else.” She spoke to you, suddenly getting serious and you couldn’t help but blink at her words and frowned lightly, giving her a small nod as your own laughter vanished into the air.

“What is it?” You questioned, your head tilting to the side as Hela let out a breath and began to think her words over carefully. She wasn’t one to express such soft emotions and it kinda scared her of what you would say to this, but she needed to take this chance now. Sure she had only known you for a few short months but she was certain you were the one she needed in her life.

“I.. I’ve come to terms with this and I.. I really like you. Whenever I look at you I feel butterflies flying around in my stomach, when I hear your laughter or your voice I all but melt at it.. I turn to putty for you and I would love nothing more if I could take your hand and pronounce you my girlfriend..” She admitted, looking at you as you stared at her with wide eyes. Somehow you had managed to win Hela over and you weren’t exactly certain as to how you managed to succeed in such a thing; All you two had done was talk and go on the occasional walk plus the battles you two would end up fighting together. Those little battles always turned into victories though and the smile that would cross Hela’s face always managed to make you smile. During those months you had somehow taken her heart and made it yours and your brain just couldn’t wrap itself around that idea. Once that realization did hit you, you could feel the blush beginning to creep up on your cheeks as you went ahead and took her hands in yours, gripping them lightly before you smiled at her.

“I.. Feel the same way, Hela… I fell for you just as hard as you fell for me; I turn into putty for you just from hearing you talk, from hearing you speak such amazing things to me. I live for our outings out into the town and our conversations that last into the night.. I would love nothing more than to take your hand.” You had told her to which she stared back at you with the same wide eyes you had given her; You had fallen for her as well. It was then that Hela didn’t waste another second and crashed her lips to yours in a sweet and short kiss to which you quickly returned before she retracted herself, blushing lightly as she cleared her throat. You couldn’t help but giggle and speak up.

“Listen Hela, I may be short.. But I have a lot of love to give. So I hope you’re ready for it.” You teased her to which she gave a small chuckle and kept your hands in hers, bringing them up to her lips as she gave you a warm smile and gently kissed them. You were bringing out a new side to Hela that you could have sworn you were never going to see; It was a much softer side to her and you were eating it up and you had many plans to keep this side of her to yourself.

“Well my dove, I am ready to receive all the love you have to give.” She smiled at you before bringing you in for another kiss, one which you happily returned.

#Marvel #Marvel Cinematic Universe #Thor: Ragnarok #Hela #Hela x Reader #Hela x Fem!Reader #Hela x Female Reader #Fluffy Friday

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captaiinkick · 4 years

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𝟘𝟘𝟙 . RELATIONSHIPS

* THE LOVERS, REVERSED ; disharmony, loss of balance — ZIA

it’d be instinctive to think the chemistry between captain kick and babydoll would transcend into their real-life dynamic, will has had issues communicating with zia. none of it is her fault, of course; to in any way mislead her into thinking it is would pain him even more. the conflict began back during the team’s first run, and fifteen years or so later it lingers. the feelings were there - will knew how zia felt, and he reciprocated the feelings since the very beginning. zia has always been the only person he’s ever pictured himself being in a relationship with ( reason why he never came close to establishing anything official with anyone else. he tried several times, but he kept coming back to the memory of zia and how unhappy he felt without it ). however, he always simultaneously feared and dislike the thought that forcing them together would drive them further apart. he didn’t want their relationship to be a mere fabrication, a narrative crafted for the sake of toy sales and viewer ratings. in his stubbornness to keep it from happening, will distanced himself from zia, effectively damning the relationship from seeing the light of day. he regrets all the discomfort and suffering he may have caused her, but he’s yet to learn to make himself available to her and get over his worries to make their connection work. of course it’s easier said than done, but will doesn’t want to think of what would happen if something were to go awry in one of the missions, and the two never got to experience the relationship they’d wanted & deserved.

* THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE, UPRIGHT ; change, cycles — ALEC

will never really knew how to feel about alec -- well, actually, he did, but it was too chaotic and ever-changing to put into words. the few constancies in his attitude toward the other man remain, however. it all stems from will’s own insecurities. he’s become convinced he’s not the best fit for the position of the team leader, namely because it should be filled by someone like alec rather than himself. he excels in every way in which will doesn’t, and it scares will to his core. he constantly thinks of the many ways in which the team would benefit from having alec as the frontrunner, and he’ll get so consumed by his own stream of thought that eventually the idea of stepping aside and giving his position up to alec will begin taunting him. but at the moment, all of this remains unvoiced. the one thing that makes will feel like his stay is worthwhile is being at the head. it’s become such a relevant influence on his self-confidence, his identity. without it, will doesn’t know what would become of him, but still he can’t say it doesn’t feel unjust to deny the team the leader they deserve.

* STRENGTH, REVERSED ; insecurity, doubt — LAURA

will’s aware that he wasn’t particularly close to laura back in the 80s. he felt there were a couple barriers between them, namely the different ages and the nature of their positions ( captain kick would be seen mainly with babydoll, after all ). still, behind the scenes, he made sure for them to be on at least good terms. there was some contact throughout the years, but it was admittedly more sporadic than with other exemplars. now, however, will’s perception of laura has changed, if he were being honest. they are similar to those which he holds for alec, in the sense that it pains him to see someone clearly more qualified, skilled and deserving of a leadership position remain under ‘his’ command. he carries a bit of guilt for this, and is often unsure as to whether or not to divulge this to her. again, this is mainly out of the fear that once the bureau and the exemplars discover that they’d be better off following someone else’s calls, then that makes him dispensable.

* THE EMPEROR, UPRIGHT ; authority, control — CESARE

things with cesare have always been tricky. will’s opinion on him shifts from time to time. sometimes, he’ll delight in some wishful thinking and hope the two could reap the benefits of a more balance partnership. it’d be for the better, after all. this whim, however, is often shot down in the face of an argument or a disagreement. will thinks it wrong to challenge cesare’s position ( surely the bureau granted him that degree of authority for a reason, and being born into a family who instilled in him an admiration toward hard workers, he simply cannot bring himself to disregard him on that basis ). however, that doesn’t mean he’ll stay quiet and agreeable all the time. the two have starkingly different views as to how approach certain parts of the missions -- will lets himself be lead by emotion, while cesare’s strategic thinking is unparallaled. so whenever it gets too much, there’s bound to be a clash -- in times like these will doesn’t mind being a bit more brazen than usual, since he very well knows the lives of so many are at stake.

at the same time, will admires and envies cesare. he wishes he could be that collected when under pressure, or that he had his ease with words. he wouldn’t want to be in his shoes, however, given the bureau’s undermining of his performance ( will doubts he would make it through that kind of pressure ). sadly, more often that not whichever positive feelings he has for him will be placed on the back burner as conflict between the two unfolds.

* TEMPERANCE, UPRIGHT ; finding meaning, patience — DAMIEN

yet again, will wishes this relation, in particular, could be less complicated. then again, he’s to blame for it. back during their first run, will felt guilty damien would be forced out onto the sidelines. he wanted to make sure he felt welcome in the team. slowly, their conversations became more common, and nowadays will would say the two are good friends. they bonded during very personal moments, and many of his favorite memories are of times spent with damien. however, it is a bit more complex than that. naturally, there are so many aspects of damien’s life that will is not aware of, and out of a fear that he’d be overstepping any boundaries, will maintains his interactions with damien as formal, ever so nonchalant, but never entirely honest. he conceals most details of his own personal life to damien too. while he wishes he could bring himself to be honest, will cannot find it in him to own up to this helplessness and vulnerability. troubling damien with that burden has never been an option. so for the most part, will relies on small talk, and the moment it crosses that line, he feels exposed and bothersome. the last thing he wants is to bring damien’s mood down, or have him waste his time keeping watch over him. though, there are so many similarities between the two that surely neither of them have realized, and they could definitely become great sources of support for one another if will weren’t so afraid to admit defeat.

* THE SUN, UPRIGHT ; joy, celebration — TANGO

will likes tango. while he was initially startled by the sharpness of his fangs, it soon became clear that the ferocity and wildness that the media used to characterize him was far from the truth. tango was kind to will in a way some people weren’t, but more importantly, he always treated him with dignity. this never failed at moving will, and he’s never managed to grow angry at the other. he admires how well-meaning and resilient tango has remained, especially considering the media’s scrutiny and the bureau’s treatment. that being said, there are so many things about tango that intrigue will, but he finds it impolite to ask and/or pry. he would also like to know more about what life with such heavy involvement from the bureau has been like, but again, will thinks it might be insensitive to ask such specific, obvious questions -- or worse, that more than just come off as nosy, that it’ll bring more attention to his strict living conditions and somehow prompt him to feel downtrodden. truly, will thinks tango deserves the best. not only has he had to deal with having the reputation he did, to have the coverage bite into the narrative of ‘wild beast’ so frequently. he knows it is hard, but will wishes tango could enjoy a much freer life once the missions are over and done with.

* THE HIGH PRIESTESS, UPRIGHT ; inner voice, intuitive — BETH

beth and will are very similar on so many levels. they are both natural caretakers and seek to ensure everyone’s wellbeing. but much like with damien, the extent to which will voices his deeper, more emotion-heavy thoughts is very limited. he has a good relationship with beth, but he is not always honest with her. from what she has disclosed to him, and the few letters exchanged here and there, will got the feeling that she was doing fine. and if that is the case, will is happy. beth is someone who he felt also didn’t get to thrive back when the team was first assembled, and being responsible for accounting so many civilians, he thinks it is about time she got more recognition.

at the same time, will wishes there could be a more transparent channel of communication between them. her accident with the faulty wings wasn’t a secret, but will’s thoughts and emotions in the aftermath were never extended over to her. ever since that happening, will’s become more apprehensive and protective toward the team since he has realized there are external factors at play that he can’t control. he so deeply wishes he could bring it up in a discussion with her, but he doesn’t want to go there fearing it’d be like pouring salt into a wound.

* THE MAGICIAN, REVERSED ; illusions, out of touch — ADDY

will wishes he could be like addy. he has never had it in himself to be reckless, to be impulsive. the fact that addy manages to pull them off with such ease is admirable in his mind ( it even becomes an enviable skill in his eyes ). he understands that to be forced into such a one-dimensional character must’ve been rough, but he is mostly blinded by the awe and wonder which he’s always experienced when seeing addy out in the field. seeing her stunts used to make him feel like a kid, all full of excitement and a thirst for adventure. he lived vicariously through the unrestrained attitude of the character, because he felt like he was not allowed to act in such a way as a child. he always looked up to addy in a way, and how she balanced tallahassee’s exuberance with her own aim to keep everyone safe. deep down, he wished he possessed that ability, that he would stop feeling so self-conscious and tied down by his inhibitions- since he can’t, he’ll just resort to watching addy continuously do it with that unparalleled facility.

* JUSTICE, UPRIGHT ; clarity, truth — BENJI

will feels a lot of respect toward benji. he has always helped not only will, but the team as a whole. he could confidently call benji one of the pillars of each operation, and has no clue what would become of each mission were benji not involved. will has always watched benji do his job with a certain curiosity and intrigue, even though he didn’t grasp most of the concepts benji’s work oversaw. not a day goes by where will doesn’t feel thankful for having druid on board, but sadly, the difference in their positioning and tasks during the missions felt like somewhat of a barrier between the two. now that the team is back together, will has been trying to gather some courage and voice the admiration he feels towards benji. he thinks of pendulum, and how much was left unsaid when she passed, so he doesn’t want to make the same mistake again.

#* tasks.#* writing prompts.#soz can't remember my tags #retired.task

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iloveyouthreethousand-o6 · 5 years

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Wicked - Chapter 1 (for Kari’s Summer Writing Challenge)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1378

Warnings: descriptions of thunder and lightning, descriptions of anxiety

A/N: This is for @until-theend-oftheline – Kari’s Summer Writing Challenge. I'm writing for prompt 14- thunderstorm. Also, I’m sorry this is really bad, I wrote this between classes!! I could go on and on but I decided to make this a short series instead. Thanks to @afictionaladventure16 for editing! Enjoy!

Sebastian was walking briskly along the short stretch of road that led to the hotel which he was staying at when he heard the familiar sound of running, shouting and camera shutters. It had been a particularly taxing day for him at a convention in London. He sighed and suddenly began to feel panicked. He couldn’t risk them finding his hotel. As he looked around frantically for a place to hide or a way to escape, the unmistakable sound of thunder sounded loud. He had to do something, and quick! He spotted the entrance to a theatre and ran in, wide-eyed. He was grateful, but also confused, as to why there was no one guarding the door. Peering in, he heard cheering, whistling and clapping and caught a flash of green. He then realized that the show, Wicked, had just finished. The security guards had gone to the doors to open them for the audience to leave. By the time the applause died down, the rain was coming down in sheets against the glass panes that served as a barrier between the public and the people who had paid to watch the performance.

Briefly, his mind wandered to the paparazzi, hoping that they had managed to escape the storm that was now raging outside before a sharp crack of lightning struck just outside the theatre yanking him out of his thoughts. He stared at the charred remnants of a huge tree that was thriving just a few seconds before it was struck by the bolt of lightning. People exiting the theatre had come to a standstill, forming a crowd in behind the main entrance and talking amongst themselves. Sebastian looked back at the crowd of people, his heart thudding in his chest at the fear of being recognized and mobbed in the small space.

Y/N was filled with joy and excitement as she enthusiastically clapped for the performers. After trying to fight it, a grin broke out on her face and her eyes twinkled as she let out a small laugh. She always loved going to watch musicals. In her dreary and repetitive life, they acted as a beacon of hope. She always felt like she was on a high after she saw artists singing and dancing on the big stage. She had always wanted to be one of them. Being able to express herself and just feel free was something she craved. But her mind restricted her from chasing that dream. She was unique, but she couldn’t see that. So, she never tried to stand out. She was always nervous, scared that she would be judged, that people wouldn’t like her. Y/N always tried her hardest to fit in, not be seen, but something inside her was craving that attention and recognition of being special. It was always disappointed when she turned down opportunities and missed the chance to be something better, someone loved by most. But it was the ‘some’ that wouldn’t love her that held her back. The fear of being disliked by anyone. Even if it was just one person.

As the audience filed out of the theatre, she hung back and was jerked to a stop when the whole moving mass in front of her stopped abruptly. Her nose was almost touching the back of the tall woman standing in front of her when she pulled back and stepped away from the throng of people. Y/N craned her neck and tried to see what the commotion was about. All she could make out was the thundering of the rain against the windowpane. Usually, she would have just waited until the news reached her through someone or until a leader emerged in the crowd, who would find a solution. But she was elated from the extravagant performance she had just been witness to. She felt like she could do anything at all. This feeling, mixed with the curiosity that was almost bursting out of her, made Y/N take the decision to go to the main doors and see what was happening outside.

So, she pushed and muttered hasty apologies. And eventually, after a bit of a struggle, she reached the front. By the time she did, Sebastian had managed to slip away to the side, while the people were distracted by another flash of lightning. She watched as the sky wept, and realized- the roads were flooded. There was no way for people to get out of the theatre safely. They would have to wait it out. As she realized this, the theatre staff made the same announcement. Free food and water would be provided until the clouds had finished letting go of their sadness and moved on, giving way to the warm joy of the sun.

The audience began filing back into the auditorium. As Y/N entered the short passage that led the way in, so did Sebastian. The second that they both stepped in, there was a zapping sound and the building went dark. Y/N jumped and grabbed the closest thing that she could feel in the dark. This happened to be Sebastian’s shirt. At that exact moment, upon feeling a hand grabbing him, Sebastian grabbed both her wrists. He had spent some time training with Robert Downey Jr and had gained a lot of self-defense skills in the past few months. The generators kicked in, the lights came back on and consequently the two stared at each other, both wide-eyed. Y/N looking partly terrified and partly incredulous and Sebastian looking confused -about the whole situation since he thought he had managed to avoid being recognized by anyone- yet determined to protect himself.

They stared at each other for a few more seconds before Y/N, determined to avoid an interaction, with her heart racing, slipped away into the crowd. She quickly found her seat and tried to calm down. Sebastian, meanwhile, stared at where she stood, for a few more seconds before realizing what had happened and running after her. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t find her. She had succeeded in her mission to avoid conflict. Now, they were faced with the challenge of finding a way home. As Y/N was thinking of her possible ways to get home, they heard the loud wailing of a child accompanied by the sound of barking and whimpering. Immediately, people got up and ran out, in search of the source of the noise.

As Sebastian emerged through the small hallway that led out, he caught sight of a heartbreaking scene. A small German Shepherd was trapped under a branch outside. A boy, who was around five years old, was desperately trying to push the branch to relieve the poor puppy from being crushed by the heavy tree. The boy was soaked through his clothes and was struggling to find a grip on the flooded road. When Y/N saw this, she ran to the doors and shook them by the handles, desperately trying to find a way out. Sebastian recognized her and rushed to help her. Both of their strengths combined resulted in the locks giving way and the doors swinging open.

Y/N immediately ran towards the boy, almost slipping a few times, with Sebastian close behind her. When they reached the site of the scene, Sebastian immediately went to pull the boy away from the tree before joining Y/N in her efforts to lift the branch. The rain lashed down on them in sheets of pain. Sebastian’s grunts, along with the sound of Y/N’s panting, were obscured by the sound of water-driven against concrete by gravity. The periodic sound of thunder sounded in the air like boulders falling down a mountain. Finally, after zero progress had been made, Sebastian crouched down under the branch and used all his strength to lift it using his shoulders. He had built up his strength through his training to be the Winter Soldier. As soon as it was up, Y/N carefully but quickly took the puppy in her arms and held it close. Sebastian let go of the log and they began walking briskly towards the theatre, being careful to not slip, with Sebastian slightly limping and Y/N trying to comfort the little boy.

Suddenly, they were engulfed by a bright flash of light.

“LOOK OUT!”

(To be continued...)

#kari's summer writing challenge #wicked #sebastian stan x reader #avengers #mcu #fanfic #marvel #wicked chapter 1 #cliffhanger #thunderstorm

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cyjprojectarchive · 7 years

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every day | youngjae

prompt: inspired by the song every day by ARS group: GOT7 pairing: choi youngjae, you genre: angst, hurt & comfort words: 2826

baby it’s you, neol hyanghan nae mami (baby its you, who my heart is going towards) swibge jabhijiga anha na (i can’t stop it from catching you) niga anin geo gat a (i don’t feel like myself.)

Youngjae didn’t want to wake up today, but the constant bickering of his band mates are preventing him from drifting off into the warm comfort of his slumber underneath thick blankets of security. He knew it was too early in the morning as the sun had only started to make its greeting, but he was already used to having four hyungs and two dongsaengs acting as his alarm clocks for the past few weeks. He needed the boost of liveliness in his life as he’s slowly losing most of his own.

“He probably stayed up late playing Overwatch,” he heard Mark comment to the boys. Youngjae scoffed under his breath- seemed like the oldest hyung was projecting his own issues. Bambam asked if they played together, but Jaebum’s voice interrupted their conversation.

“I’m going to wake him up. No point in waiting anymore.”

Youngjae held his breath in anticipation. The leader’s tone didn’t exude that of anger and so he’s grateful. He guessed that telling him his current situation wasn’t that embarrassing after all now that he’s getting some leeway from not waking up at five am, like they should be, because of it.

“No, no. I’ll do it. No need to scare him before he’s even fully conscious, JB hyung,” Jinyoung argued. Youngjae stifled a laughter as he’s probably right. Another person who is aware of his struggles.

“Noooo. What he needs is a bright and cheery greeting! I’ll go,” it was Jackson’s turn to volunteer. All three voices meshed together in confusing sentences of who’s fit enough to wake the last member up.

Letting out a resigned sigh, Youngjae finally stood up and opened the door to reveal three hyungs facing each other with scrunched up faces. He giggled, and then he burst into his infamous silent laughter. Jackson only pretended to scold him, but Jaebum and Jinyoung both gave him glances of concern to which he responded with his award-winning otter smile. He didn’t want them to worry so early in the morning for him.

So Choi Youngjae decided to be happy today. He tried, really he did.

But it could only take so much of his energy to feign happiness.

He did alright, almost too alright during vocal and dance lessons today. Jaebum praised him for his focus and reprimanded Jackson and Bambam for their childlike instances, again. Yugyeom asked for breathing techniques and he complied willingly. Mark even retold stories of his game play last night, asking Youngjae why he wasn’t online - for two weeks straight. Shrugging, his excuse was that he needed to really improve his performance skills for their new comeback to which Mark looked at him suspiciously. He rarely gave out compliments verbally, so hearing Mark assure him that he’s been doing exceptionally well boosted his morale a bit, and the energy lost within the first few hours of the day was refueled.

Youngjae was only waiting for it to vanish yet again.

That’s why he declined the offer of joining the boys for a late lunch at a nearby KBBQ restaurant. The thought of stuffing his face with delicious steaming meat seduced his senses, but if he were to go out and exert more efforts into socializing and make believe he’s fine, he’d lose it right there and then. It was best to leave his mind at ease.

They were obviously all hesitant to go out without him, but knowing his introverted sense of self, they all eventually understood and went about their group date. Youngjae, after almost nine hours of putting up the facade, had finally taken his first deep exhale of the day. He needed his alone time, and he knew just where to find it.

He took a seat in front of the classic black grand piano in the corner of their living room. His muscles immediately relaxed and his fingers instinctively found their way on a set of black and white keys. Closing his eyes, a soft tune emerged from his gracefully dancing fingers along the musical tiles.

It was an unnamed melody, but nevertheless sadness can be felt in every tone, every slight turn of his head as he hums along.

And right there, he imagined himself instead standing in front of you.

Your fingers trembled at the overwhelming sight of the gigantic version of a keyboard before you. Good thing you were facing forward or else he would have received a great resounding slap dare you see him grinning like a Cheshire cat at your nervousness. But he loved looking at you, even if it was just the view of your back; just knowing it was yours gave him a sense of ease he could not explicitly describe.

“Youngjae? I thought you were teaching me how to play a chord on the piano, not turn my hair into a braided mess,” you blurted out, glancing behind you to check upon the accused. When you saw him smile, you couldn’t help but be taken aback and blush in response which made Youngjae air out his breathless chuckle.

He knew you were only joking with the insult (although he didn’t want to admit that you were right) so he continues to twirl the ends of your hair with soft caresses, matching its smooth and silky texture.

“Can I just appreciate the view for right now? Stay right there looking at me. Learning the piano can wait,” he whined, pouting cutely for added effect. You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing at his adorable attempt at flirting.

Taking his other hand squeezing your left shoulder, you gently rest it against your cheek. Your eyes still glistened at the sight of Youngjae’s handsome stare and you both hold in the moment with the comfortable silence around you.

Even after six months of dating, not once have you uttered those three sacred words. You both agreed that it needed a special time and place to happen as it should be said with utmost sincerity and readiness.

That didn’t mean that every look and smile Youngjae gave you was not his foretelling of the love he has for you. And he believed you did the same.

But as his mind proceeded to recreate the memory of his hands guiding your own through different locations on the piano tiles, he coughs out a whimper in present time. He played a wrong note and the bitter sound that surprised his distracted mind made him aware of the fact that he had started crying.

He stood up hastily, and gave the instrument one last lingering look through blurry eyes, and made his way to the bathroom to take a long and hot shower.

No matter how many times he cleansed his body in a day, memories of you continue to linger from the canvas of his mind to the goosebumps on his skin. You’re almost permanently a part of him.

But still, he kept trying.

“Do you want anything to eat, Youngjae?”

“I’m good, hyung. Are you guys on your way home?” Youngjae asked through the microphone of his iPhone. He held it tight against his ear to hear Jinyoung’s voice on the other end. The wind was exceptionally loud today, so good thing he also decided to cover himself up with a thick gray coat.

“No, some are still eating but we’re going grocery shopping after. Do you want to meet up then?” Jinyoung was also trying hard to distinguish his voice from the continuous chatter happening around him.

“Is that Youngjae? C’mon, let’s make him jealous that we’re having his favorite: chicken feet!” Jackson’s distinct teasing voice boomed through the speakers. Youngjae shook his head in amusement. Any other day, he would have felt jealous, but his appetite - or loss thereof - rendered him unable to right now.

“Really, I’m fine, Jinyoung hyung,” Youngjae relayed reassuringly, staring at his boots taking him to a certain place he had been yearning to go to for a while now. Zooming of cars become less frequent as he trudges his way into a familiar neighborly street. Houses are kept simple, with their lawns neatly trimmed to a clean cut. Youngjae reaches an intersection and as soon as he turns right, his heart speeds up at the sight of where it all began.

“Hm. If you say so. I’ll talk to you later, Youngjae-ah,” Jinyoung remarked Youngjae reciprocated as he ended the call, bringing his phone tucked inside one of the coat pockets.

The sun was beginning to set, so most of the kids and their guardians are beginning to pack up and go back home. He smiled as he watches a young boy and girl chasing each other mindlessly around the playground, tripping over the sand in the process. Their parents, presumably, came to their aid with concerned faces but the children just laughed it off with innocent grins.

Youngjae pulled his face mask back up as he spots a group of teenagers packing up their picnic baskets. He wasn’t being too presumptuous, but he didn’t want to risk getting caught out and about today. As much as he enjoys interacting with fans outside of concerts and fan meets, he really just wanted to be by himself right now.

Lowering the cap to further hide his visage, Youngjae paces toward the opposite direction of the suspecting fans. He ended up sitting on the edge of a bench facing the swings. With crossed legs and arms, his eyes fixate on the memory visualizing right before his eyes.

“I still don’t understand why we keep coming here. It’s cold and windy at night,” He complained, rubbing the palms of his hands together in a desperate attempt of heat. Winter is right under your nose, and feet as Youngjae watches you skip through the thin layer of snow accumulating on the ground.

“You just need to wear more layers,” you mocked him ironically as all you had was a simple pink sweater on top of a tank top, and skin tight leggings barely providing you any form of warmth. Youngjae was more dressed up for the occasion, given that he had just come out of a winter photo shoot minutes ago.

He was about to point out this irony until you suddenly dashed towards his direction to give him a tight hug.

“Or maybe I just need to be this close to you,” you whispered next to his ear, nuzzling your cheek against his red tinted ones. Youngjae’s arms instinctively wrap around your frame and you sigh contently, both of you indulging in sweet security the other offered ungrudging

It was only a few hours until dawn arrives, but Youngjae wasn’t going to let your one year anniversary pass by without seeing each other. It was unfortunate he had to be gone most of the day, and that you had your last set of final exams as well. But you didn’t let this ruin your mood overall as you patiently waited for your tests to be over and done with, and Youngjae successfully finishing all his tasks and appointments tonight.

Looking up, your fingers discover the tiny dot on his eye. You carefully smooth the tip of your pointer finger over the bump, then cupping the sides of his cheek and using your thumb to feel the perfect imperfection instead.

“There’s more to me than just my mole, you know,” Youngjae breathed out jokingly, but secretly he didn’t mind your awestruck expression adoring you as he, too, conveyed the same emotions.

You smiled at his words, tender lips meeting flushed parted ones. Your hands were now nestled into velvet tresses of blonde, tugging slightly to make him mold even deeper into you.

He felt anxious at first, panicked thoughts swirled his mind of people catching him at a public place. But he remembered that most of them are probably tucked in their beds fast asleep, and ultimately, he almost didn’t care of anything else but the ethereal being secured in his arms, relieving him of previous stress and struggles he faced that day.

“Push me on the swing, Youngjae,” you pleaded, squeezing yourself in the narrow seat of the children’s swing. Youngjae chortled at your difficulty in fitting in. “Don’t laugh and just push me!” You repeated, flustered.

“Alright, alright, princess,” he mused. Giving your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, he pushes them with light force at first. You whined audibly, “I know you’re not trying hard enough!” He laughed at your persistence. “I don’t want you to break the swing!”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No, no, love! Fine, let me do it again,” he replied, laughing harder this time. You wanted to feign anger at his teasing, but his laugh was contagious and you wanted to show him how such mundane activities gave you the happiest of feelings.

“I am invincible!” You sang through each swing, the cold breeze striking your face.

“All thanks to your sidekick,” Youngjae added, continuing his service of pushing your back to your merriment. You keep going for a few minutes until Youngjae’s arms gave up thus turning into jelly. He grabs hold of handles as you come to a stop. You turned to see an exhausted Youngjae to his knees, breathing heavily.

“You okay there, bud’?” You asked innocently, tilting your head to the side with a smirk forming on your face. He tried to laugh it off but proceeded to cough in fits instead. You gasped as you jump out of the swing, massaging his back and spurting multiple apologies to your loved one.

“That- that was a- a workout,” He finally managed to say as he glanced up at your eyes welling up in salty tears. His heart dropped at the sight of your emerging sadness.

“I’m okay, love, really I am!” He cupped your chin in order for you to see him. Youngjae had never felt so much love for another person until the moment he met you; got to know you; kissed you; felt you.

“I know, I’m sorry, I love you,” you heard your voice mutter in a soft whisper. You both shared a look of surprise at the words uttered in hushed tones, and before your tears start framing your beautiful face, he kisses them away. With his fingers tracing the outline of your trembling lips, Youngjae grins.

“I love you. Happy anniversary.”

And that’s the last of what his memory shows him as he gives into his past, actual tears already drying on the surface of his freezing cheeks. Youngjae hiccuped, surprised as to how much he’s already cried for silently. Wiping them away with the sleeves of his outerwear, he gets up from the swing he transferred to from the bench, regretting his decisions of coming here.

All he has now are memories of you. And every time he thinks long and hard, all you’re ever going to be is just that. A memory.

A ring vibrated to his sides and he jumps at the sudden jolt to his body. He fished out his phone and notice the three missed calls he received from Jinyoung. He picked the current call up at the fourth ring and let out a whimpering, “Yeah, hyung?”

There was a pause before the older member responded, “I’m bringing some beers for us. Make sure you’re back in the dorms in ten.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Youngjae said, perplexed, “What do you mean -”

“I saw you walking to the park when we were driving to go grocery shopping, Youngjae,” Jinyoung confessed with a worried sigh. “You know it’s okay to reminisce and be sad because the wounds are still fresh, but don’t beat yourself up over it too much, okay? Or at least, tell us. The dongsaengs are asking concerned questions about you now, too, Youngjae. We all want to help.”

“I’m sorry for being a bother, hyung,” Youngjae sniffled in between his words. “It’s just that… it’s hard. It’s so hard.”

“It’s okay, Youngjae. We’re here for you, alright?”

“Alright. I appreciate it a lot, hyung.”

“We’re coming back in twenty minutes. I’ll see you later, yeah?” Jinyoung informed him “Yeah, see you,” Youngjae answered with a final whimper of his last tear shed. He started feeling a bit better when his hyung reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

Sure, he might be doing well with their comeback practices. Sure, he had been a master of disguising his exhaustion from his true emotions.

But Youngjae can only do so much pretending without breaking down at the thought of you just being a memory to him now.

He blinked away the tears before finally moving his feet to start his way back home to his best friends.

Home is not you anymore. And yet, he kept coming back to the place he thought was home, desperately wishing he can return once again to you and feel like he’s home. But…

“Home is not you anymore,” Youngjae mumbled under his breath, looking ahead.

#cyjnet #got7maknaelinenet #kreativewritersnet #choi youngjae imagines #got7 imagines #choi youngjae scenarios #got7 scenarios #emjae fics

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captivesrp · 7 years

Photo

Sunlight dapples a pattern on the canvas of Murchadh’s new home; apparently summer still has a say in the weather. Murchadh slowly rises to consciousness as Anwen talks to him.

“. . . did you do yesterday? You must have finished really late.”

Murchadh nods blearily and shakes his head. Waking up is hard some mornings. “We had to climb a mountain. Here,” he says, “we were able to have a little extra food on the hike yesterday. Have some of this to help your morning.” He hands her a handful of dandelion greens he had pocketed yesterday. He looks over her person trying to see how she fared yesterday and sees a bandage on her foot. “What happened to you yesterday? What did they have you do? And that looks like a well done bandage; who is their witch?”

Anwen lets out a laugh. “They made us search through a swamp for random objects, I cut my foot on a knife that was hidden under the mud, and Ashrille bound it. She is one of the other captives. She was her village’s witch, so I guess she’s our healer now.”

Murchadh nods, thinking. “Keep me up to date on everything you do and anything people say that is interesting. I will do the same for you. It is time to gather knowledge and make as many friends as possible. I will try to bring you some fresh food from our excursions when I can sneak it back,” Murchadh adds with a smile. Then, hearing the heavy tread of an adult outside the tent, he says, “Here comes our escort. It is time to begin our training.”

Tyree’s face pokes through the doorflap of their tent, “Come along, you two. Time for your daily tasks. No trouble now.”

Murchadh smiles at him. “I won’t give you any. This is the first place that I have found in the past three years where I am fed regularly and protected. Why would I leave such luxury? Come, Anwen, let us go and see what excitement is in store for us today.”

They follow Tyree out into the sun. The air is brisk but the warmth of the sun is very pleasant on Murchadh’s face. He can tell Anwen is also enjoying being outside. As they walk down the little row of tents he sees other children coming out or already walking towards a group of brigands, to whom Tyree is leading Murchadh and Anwen. Murchadh notes the build, stance, gait, and dialects of each captive he sees or hears, and he smiles at everyone. He counts nine other captives, a fairly diverse selection of boys and girls.

As he approaches Asgell and the other guide trainees, he waves goodbye to Anwen, who is escorted by Tyree over to her own team leader.

Like the day before, today’s lesson is another long hike; only this time Asgell leads and offers instruction. Murchadh already knows everything she is teaching but he does not act bored or exasperated, as he is happy to be out in such nice weather and does not want to be known as a know-it-all. He imagines that before they are done instruction he will be learning from Asgell, for he can tell her bushcraft is superb even as she teaches the basics; in fact, over the course of the day she introduces a few new or slightly different ideas that allow him to fine-tune his current skills.

Around midday there is a short water break. Murchadh sees Ffrewgí sit on the bank of the cool stream and moves over to him. “Hey, so how is today going?” he asks. “You seem to be doing better.”

“Do I?” responds the boy quietly. “I don’t feel any better.”

Whether Ffrewgí believes him or not, it is true; Murchadh has watched him through the day and has seen a light grow in his eyes. Before he can add more assurances, Ffrewgí continues, “Uh, thanks for the pheasants and help yesterday. I really appreciated it.”

Murchadh nods. “No problem; that is how we can survive: by helping each other.” He looks over at Ffrewgí, sensing his lack of confidence. “You are doing well! You are quite smart,” he says earnestly.

Ffrewgí does not respond and looks out at the burbling stream.

Murchadh nods understandingly and also falls silent for a bit. The transient splash of a stone he idly tosses into the water turns his thoughts. “I was wondering about your tent-mate,” he says. “Is her head hurt?”

Ffrewgí looks up from the water. “ She almost died in her home village, I think. She has really bad headaches.”

Murchadh frowns, concerned. “Hm, head injuries are dangerous. I will try and help, if I can.” He falls silent again. “You know, Ffrewgí,” he says eventually, “as guides we need to learn about our peers---their skills, and their weaknesses. We need to help them all become strong. You are a very kind person; be who you are and they will come to trust and follow you.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t know about that.” Ffrewgí looks up at Murchadh. “Do you have a plan to get us out of here?”

“I need to figure out what is going on here first, and why they want us---could you keep me informed about anything interesting you hear? I will do the same for you.” Murchadh suddenly smiles and twists to pull up a plant by his heels. “Here, this plant helps with mild pain. Chew it up into a paste and put it on your pit-mate’s bruise.” He hands the plant to Ffrewgí.

Ffrewgí receives it happily. “Oh, thanks! She will really appreciate this. You are a really good person, Murchadh. I’m glad you’re here.”

Murchadh smiles, but underneath his calm exterior Ffrewgí’s last statement has thrown him into turmoil. He has been pitied and used in the past, but he has never been appreciated by anyone besides his father. He is not sure if he likes the feeling---what if he lets Ffrewgí down? Failure, if it just affects him, is fine---Murchadh has faced it many times in the past---but now it could affect Ffrewgí, and Anwen, too. Responsibility. It hits him like a rock to his stomach. He has never had that before. Murchadh finally manages to say, “Keep your chin up, friend. If we play our cards right, we can all get away alive. I need you to make this happen---you are a vital part of the team. Believe it, and act with confidence. Remember, the last time you acted in confidence you saved my life.” He smiles, then dusts his hands off on his pants and moves back upstream to ask Asgell some questions about the finer techniques of tracking.

* * *

The next day of training, another instructive hike, builds upon the last but still features little that is new to Murchadh. After the lesson and the paltry dinner that follows it, he sets out to find Ashrille---a peer of Anwen’s, and a witch, or as good as, according to Anwen’s reports. He cannot bring himself to leave Ffrewgí’s tent-mate in her condition. She needs a real healer, not his makeshift medicine.

He finds Ashrille wandering among the captives’ tents with Wyddryr. As he limps toward them he calls out, “Hello, my name is Murchadh. I am Anwen’s tent-mate; she has told me a bit about you. Could you help me with something?”

Ashrille hesitates then uneasily remains in position as Wyddryr keeps moving. “What could that be?” she asks, her brow furrowing.

Murchadh does his best to put her at ease with his posture, but he really hopes her healer’s instinct will give her motivation. “You see, my friend Ffrewgí’s tent-mate is struggling with an injury. Archora received a strong blow to her head before her capture and, despite it being weeks old she still has pain. I only know a few basic herbs for inflammation and infection. You could help her; I can’t.”

Ashrille stands a bit straighter. “I can see what I can do. Can you take me to her?”

Murchadh smiles eagerly. “Yes, her tent is right next to mine.” He heads off briskly. He does not want to this to take too long; unsure as he is about how much interaction the brigands will allow.

As they go, Ashrille asks, “Why do you limp?”

Murchadh offhandedly replies, gesturing with his shriveled arm, “When I was still in the womb my mother was struck in the stomach by a raider, which prompted early labour. An injury from my first raid.”

Ashrille nods in sympathy. “Ah . . . not much I can do about that.”

“Yeah, unless you know how to straighten hips and lengthen arms.” Murchadh falls silent as they approach Archora, who is lying half in and half out of the tent she shares with Ffrewgí. He calls out, “Hello, Archora! How are you doing today? I hope I am not overstepping my boundaries here, but I found out that Ashrille is a really good healer and I think she can help you. It will definitely be better than what I can do for you.”

Archora responds dryly, “You look strange upside down.” She presses her lips together. “Thanks, bud, but there is nothing to be done. I’m doomed.”

Murchadh shakes his head a little, still smiling. “At least let her try. It can’t hurt any worse and we may be lucky enough to help it improve.”

Archora turns onto her stomach and then crawls up to her knees outside the tent. She looks up at Ashrille. “Do you have a potion that could turn me invisible, witch? I’m thinking about escaping.”

Ashrille ignores Archora and withdraws a red leaf from her robe as she kneels next to the smaller girl. She rubs a liquid from the leaf on Archora’s bruise, then puts it away and draws out a dusty, fern-like frond. She taps it over Archora’s open mouth. As Archora falls backwards coughing, Ashrille turns to Murchadh. “She needs rest, and this process should be repeated in a few days.”

Murchadh nods, then offers, “If you can describe any herbs you want I can help gather them on our days out. Pathfinding training takes us quite a distance through lots of terrain.”

“If you want to keep an eye out for the reddish leaves, they grow on bushes with small clusters of blackish berries,” explains Ashrille. “Don’t eat the berries. The fern should be around the bases of old trees.” Ashrille pauses, thinking. “There’s a leaf that could help with the pain---a purple herb that grows on dead trunks. The problem is that it looks similar to one that would . . . really not help. Look for fuzz on the main stalks; that’s the one we want. If we find some of that, it would really help, but this is as much as I can do for now.”

Murchadh smiles. “I have helped a witch gather some of the purple herb before. I did not know what it was used for, but your description is familiar. I will see if I can find some.”

“That would be fantastic. In a few days, I’ll be back to reapply. If you find any of the herb, bring it to me by then.” She straightens and turns to leave.

“Thank you for your help,” says Murchadh. “You are very skilled and we are lucky that you are here to aid us.” Murchadh then turns to Archora and whispers, “Keep any mention of escape to yourself. We need to lull them into security, thinking we are content. I am confident that I know where we are---I can lead us out when it is time. Let yourself heal; you will get better. When you are strong, then we can start figuring out how to survive. I know what to do, but we need a leader, and a gimp won’t make a good one. We need a fighter people can respect . . .” He holds her gaze for a moment, then moves over to his tent and crawls in, where he curls up to sleep.

* * *

The following days settle into a fairly reliable rhythm. Murchadh wakes up, trains, eats, and then winds down as the evening wanes---making sure to keep his interactions with other tributes brief and simple, as per the brigands’ orders---illogical orders, in Murchadh’s opinion. If the children are to be asked to hunt some impossibly smart and intelligent beast, they should be allowed to interact, to learn how to be a team. This goal in mind, Murchadh sets out to become familiar, and on good terms with each of his peers. The brigands’ careful eyes in mind, he makes sure to make his interactions seem casual, and only in passing.

During training, whenever Murchadh comes across the purple painkilling herb he pockets it and passes it off to Ashrille back at camp or leaves them at her tent. Sometimes, he leaves extra plants that seem interesting to him, figuring she may know of them.

If he is to be honest with himself, he is liking it here, though he is uneasy about what will happen after training has come to an end. People actually, genuinely, care about him and think him worthwhile---an interesting concept to him. He has never felt needed before. His fellow captives are becoming his tribe.

* * *

The eighth day since the guides’ harrowing hike dawns warm and wet. Murchadh, as is now his habit, is up watching the sunrise. He enjoys watching the camp come to life. If he were not a captive, and had been asked instead of dragged here, he would have been ready to call this place home a long time ago. He has friends, a purpose, a relative---Tyree has been talking with him again---and a genuine mentor in Asgell. He is fed and protected. This is more than he has ever had before.

Murchadh sobers as he considers how much Ffrewgí and Anwen seem to look to him for hope . . . and he has also promised to help Archora. He is torn between his desire to help his peers and a longing to become part of the tribe here, in the wilderness---or, better, to start a tribe with the other children and the more friendly brigands.

His peers were the first to accept him. He refuses to lead them on only to break their trust. When the time is right, he will make his move and take the children with him. For now, though, they all have to focus on learning as much as possible. The more they learn the better they will fare, whatever comes.

Murchadh sighs, and his introspection is interrupted gently by the first signs of the awakening camp. Asgell and the other team leaders are not long in gathering by one end of the captives’ complex, calling for the children to wake up.

When Murchadh stands, stretches, and moves over to Asgell, he is surprised to learn that she will not be instructing them today; he is directed to wait by a tall, bald brigand who is standing by Tyree, who gives him a grin and tells him that the guides will be training as hunters today.

Immediately, Murchadh’s stomach falls. He bets that bows are going to be involved in the training. He is looking down at his useless arm, frustrated, when it dawns on him that all he really needs is some sort of splint-device to lengthen and strengthen it so he can hold the bow effectively. This is an exciting thought because he knows that if anyone can make it happen, Ffrewgí can; that kid is genius!

“Are you that eager to collect our arrows, Murchadh?” Tyree looks at him with humour in his eyes and Murchadh realizes he is smiling. “I didn’t think you would be so excited to show off your one-handed archery and spear skills.”

Murchadh is unfazed. “I think Ffrewgí and I can create a device that could allow me to shoot a bow!”

Tyree smiles down with raised eyebrows. “I don’t think Ffrewgí can magically make you another arm.”

Murchadh just grins, confident that he and Ffrewgí can figure something out. “Ffrewgí, I think we’ll be learning archery at some point today . . .” he begins, falling into step beside him as they head away from the captives’ tents.

* * *

The day passes slowly in the face of Murchadh’s anticipation. First, they are left alone with a pile of old game carcasses and are told to skin and gut them. Then they are instructed in the spear, how to plant its butt in the earth to catch aggressive prey, how to thrust and throw them.

In the afternoon, finally, they are brought to a clear space by the encampment where two archery butts have been set up. The hunting instructor, Draeg, tut-tuts as he kicks a wooden box. “No bows’n’arrers ’til you know what you’re shooting at,” he says. He has them sit down, then teaches them kill spots on different animals’ bodies before moving onto archery theory: how to aim, how to lead their targets, and how to control their breathing.

Murchadh is already familiar with most of what Draeg brings up, as his father had instructed him in it since he was old enough to walk, so, instead of paying close attention, Murchadh begins to mentally construct his bow arm. Something like the stalk of a crossbow lashed to his arm, with some sort of contraption on its end to hold the bow.

Draeg ends his theory lesson and moves back over to the box, whence he takes three bows and six arrows. He hands them out to the children, then withdraws the aged, thick-stemmed longbow from over his shoulder, already strung. He nocks an arrow taken from the quiver at his hip and fires casually at the butts, striking one just off center. “That’s how you do it,” he growls.

Tyree has also taken up a longbow. “Load it while holding it horizontally, like this,” he says, demonstrating.

Murchadh and Ffrewgí watch him closely, and over the course of the afternoon’s lesson they are very intentional about studying how the two brigands hold and move their bow arms, not only to mimic in their own turn but also to figure out how to shape and lash Murchadh’s contraption, when they are able to work on it. Without it, as predicted, Murchadh is a horrible archer, as his right arm can barely be straightened and certainly cannot withstand any draw pressure. The cogs turning in his mind, it does not even faze him.

* * *

On the way back to their tents at the end of the day Murchadh brings up the subject of making the bow arm. “So,” he says, “do you think it is possible Ffrewgí?”

Ffrewgí thinks carefully before speaking. “I think so. I get the idea and the construction itself will be pretty simple, but . . .” He hesitates. “I just don’t know if we’ll be allowed to work on it. Your tent-mate and I spent an evening working on . . . nothing, really, and we were told it looked like we were making trouble.”

Murchadh nods, sobering. “Right. I will bring the idea before Asgell in the morning and see if she will let us work on it during training, for just a little while each day. She can keep the materials with her so we won’t have access to it unsupervised. I think that should be safe enough---I mean, why try to teach us archery if I am not able to shoot a bow? Not like I’ll be much of a threat even with the brace.”

Ffrewgí smiles at Murchadh’s comment and waves goodbye as they part ways, heading to their respective tents.

* * *

Murchadh proposes his idea to Asgell as soon as she shows up by the captives’ complex in the early morning. After a lengthy discussion, into which Murchadh bends all his charm, logic, and persuasion, Asgell agrees that it could be worthwhile. Since regular guides’ training involves too much movement to allow time for its construction, Asgell tells Murchadh he can work on it on the days the sky is clear enough for star-charting instruction, between day lessons and nightfall. Murchadh is over the moon and informs Ffrewgí of the plan as soon as the boy joins them, still bleary with sleep.

“Hey,” says Murchadh after giving Ffrewgí the news, “I haven't seen Archora around; is she okay?” He has been puzzled by her absence and hopes her injury has not become so bad as to render her bedridden---though, Murchadh considers, the alternative is worse. “I hope she is feeling better,” he says.

Ffrewgí seems on the point of collapse. “She’s gone, Murchadh. She ran away sometime yesterday and . . . Murchadh!” He looks up, desperate hopefulness burning in his eyes. “You’ve talked to her, right? Tell me she can make it. She knows what she’s doing, right? Did you give her any pointers?” He pauses. “You’ve lived out in the wilds. It can be done. Right, Murchadh?”

“Oh!” is all Murchadh can manage. After a long pause, he finally brings himself to say, “It will be alright, Ffrewgí. She was a good hunter. You’re right: it can be done, and she will know what she needs to do. I am sure she will be fine.”

Wyddryr arrives, rubbing his eyes, and Asgell calls them to follow her into the fog, heading for the forest.

The day is foggy with spats of rain, but in the evening the sky clears up and after dinner Asgell collects them for a session with Fuldryn, who had stepped into a role as their star-charting instructor a few nights back. Ffrewgí and Murchadh begin their project as soon as they arrive in the grazing field where their night session will take place, using materials they gathered through the day. The main structure comes along smoothly and is basically complete as Fuldryn arrives to begin their instruction. Now all that is left is figuring out how to best attach it to Murchadh’s arm.

* * *

The next few days pass as usual. Murchadh continues to develop relationships with the other captives even as he continues to struggle with his intentions for the future.

Twelve days from their first hike comes their introduction to foraging, the third discipline, in which Anwen has been training day in and out. Murchadh finds it interesting and informative; he loves learning about plants and herbs and where to find them. In fact, he realizes he just loves learning under knowledgeable instructors, as Asgell is, and Fuldryn, and Arial, the foraging instructor. The brigands are making him want to stay.

After a long day of foragers’ training under clear blue skies, the guides are gathered by Asgell and brought to the field for another night under Fuldryn’s tutelage. These evening sessions have become Murchadh’s favourite avenue of instruction, since they are not physically demanding, they are full of fascinating information, and they mean he and Ffrewgí can work on his bow arm. By the time Fuldryn has arrived with the final coat of deep blue painted over the colours of the sunset, the two boys have managed to fit the prototype to Murchadh’s arm. Unable to progress further without a bow, they stop there to wait until their next hunting session to try it out.

“Tonight, we will learn the story of Berin’s Eye, and how it came to lose its partner,” starts Fuldryn, gesturing up to the bright North Star.

Murchadh quickly finds himself deeply engrossed in the stories of the skies. He absorbs them, longing more and more to fully understand the movements of the heavenly bodies.

#murchadh #chapter five

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