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the-ginger-avenger · 3 years

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Hey, @advisortotheadvisor! I was your Sisters Grimm holiday person, and I wrote you a little fic about Red bonding with some of the Grimms. Hope you like it!

Red doesn’t remember much about her family. Those memories of before-before the Wolf, before the Scarlet Hand, before the Jabberwocky- are as insubstantial as smoke slipping through her fingers, leaving nothing behind but the barest flickers of emotions.

She remembers her grandmother the most. Those memories are clearer, polished with a shine of fondness, edged in sorrow and grief. Her grandmother, with her face perpetually lined with stress and weariness, but her eyes that shone with a steely determination. Her grandmother, as firm and unmovable as a mountain, but still filled with compassion. Red remembers her in the smell of baking apples, remembers her in the freshly baked bread that melts on her tongue, remembers her in the sound of a roughened laugh.

She barely remembers her parents, though. What they sounded like, their likes and dislikes, their personalities, are all smudged and faded. No matter how hard she tries, she can't remember much about them.

What she does remember, with vivid clarity, is the day they left her at her grandmother's. She hadn’t realized they were abandoning her, not until weeks later when they never came back, and even then, she hadn't understood. Not fully. But she remembers the look on their faces, that last time she saw them. There had been no anguish, no grief, no remorse.

There had just been relief.

Sometimes she lies in bed and turns those fragments of memories around in her head, trying to find some good in them. Some good moments to cherish. Some good moments to hold on to, there must have been some good. But all she can see is that day at her grandmother's, that relief on their faces before they left her life for good.

Relda’s house has always felt like home. There has always been something right about that cute home with its wraparound porch, its living room crowded with stacks of books, its walls always echoing with noise, but Red walks around on eggshells. She moves through the house quietly, tries to blend into the background, tries to be as unobtrusive as she possibly can. She doesn’t argue, she doesn’t make a mess, she does her best not to be a burden. She wants to belong, she wants to stay, she wants to be good enough for this family, but she knows, better than most, just how fragile family can be.

And she knows it’s only a matter of time before they leave her behind.

She feels the most at peace with Mr. Canis.

She has always felt that way, even when he still had the Wolf inside him. He was never the villain in her mind, never the monster, but the hero. Even through all those years of grief and torment, all those years battling the Wolf, he still remained good.

He makes her want to be good. To be caring. To be selfless. To be as brave and as strong as him. But there are so many days when she doesn’t think she’ll ever be as strong as him.

She gasps awake one night from a dream, fangs sharpening behind her lips, her fingers tapering into claws. The details blur in her mind, but she knows it was one drenched in blood, pain, anger, one filled with the desire for violence. Her heartbeat jackrabbits in her chest, a fierce pounding against her bones, and it doesn’t race out of fear, but adrenaline. The dream didn’t carry the weight of a nightmare, not like it should. The fear comes after, along with the realization that the dream wasn’t hers, not really.

And the terror that follows that realization, the knowledge that even in her sleep, the Wolf is still fighting for control, feels choking.

She’s out of the bed before she fully makes a conscious decision to move and flees out into the hallway. She’s trembling by the time she makes it to his room, a full body shiver that’s bone deep. The door opens before she can knock and he stands in the doorway, bushy eyebrows low over his eyes, blinking the last dregs of his own sleep away.

She wonders if her eyes are ice blue, glowing faintly in the dark. She wonders if he can see the Wolf writhing under her skin, clawing for freedom, but he doesn’t seem concerned as he steps to the side and ushers her into the room. He never seems concerned. He always has this firm, unshakable belief in her. A steadfast belief in her ability to control the Wolf, to do good. Hope from a man who’s been through so much pain, who has felt so much grief.

She cherishes his belief in her like a gift. Like a beacon that guides her out of her own fears, and already she can feel herself begin to calm.

It takes an hour of meditation before her hands stop shaking and after he helps her draw the boundaries between her thoughts and the Wolf’s, her wants and the Wolf’s. Reminds her that they are not one, they are not the same. He helps her rebuild the barriers between herself and the monster, and by the time she feels fully grounded, the sky outside has started to lighten.

She feels guilt over keeping him up so late when he gets so few restful nights, but he places a hand on her shoulder before she can apologize and gives her a small smile. There is a stronger reassurance in that gentle squeeze, in that small smile, than any words can bring.

The Wolf is never dormant.

Mr. Canis warned her it was a relentless creature. It will always be looking for a weak point. It will always search for freedom. Fighting it back is a constant struggle, and sometimes it is so very draining.

And today she’s afraid she won’t be able to hold it back.

She stretches out on the living room floor, tucked between two stacks of books, and tries to lose herself in her drawing. She hasn’t seen colors since taking on the Wolf, but she still finds comfort in drawing. There’s always been something grounding and peaceful in the act of creating a piece of art. But not today. Irritation coils tighter and tighter in her chest, smells are too strong, sounds too grating, and all the deep breaths she takes, all the mantras she repeats in her mind, don’t seem to help.

It also doesn’t help that she can feel Puck staring at her.

He’s just come back from a few months of traveling with Jake, and he’s fallen back into the flow of the house, of the family, with the ease, self-confidence, and sense of belonging that she yearns for.

He sprawls out on the couch, taking up all three cushions so Daphne has to perch on the armrest, though Sabrina stubbornly sits on his feet. Daphne has been talking about some new spell she’s learned and while Sabrina listens, but for the past five minutes Puck’s attention has been on Red. She’s never seen him so still before, so his gaze feels more pointed, and she thinks he can see every crack spiderwebbing across her control. That he can see the Wolf breaking through.

With no warning, he jerks his feet out from under Sabrina and dodges the throw pillow she tosses at him with far more grace than should belong to someone who routinely rolls around in the mud. He gives Red a pointed look before heading upstairs.

He’s halfway up the stairs before he calls over his shoulder, “Are you coming?”

For a brief second, her irritation flares and she considers ignoring him, staying downstairs out of spite, but that would be rude and her life here is still so fragile, still so new. Despite her foul mood, she still doesn't want to risk anything.

She follows him up the stairs and trails him into his room, her irritation shifting into confusion. His room, as always, is awe-inspiring. No matter how many times she’s been here it still takes her breath away. The sky opens up above her, not a single cloud in sight, even though she knows for a fact it’s storming outside. The long grass ruffles in a gentle breeze, a cool brush against her skin.

Puck stands beside her, plants his hands on his hips, and says, “Well, get on with it.”

She glances at him, confused, but he shrugs a shoulder and flaps a hand towards the field and the trees rising in the distance.

“Go. Run. Scream. Roll in the mud a bit. You need to loosen up.” She tenses at his words, at the rebuke, her mind spinning through all the ways she needs to do better, before Puck grins, eyes lighting with mischief. “You’re almost as uptight as Grimm.”

The comparison catches her off guard, as does the teasing tone, and her mounting panic cuts off under the surprise. She’s watched Puck and Sabrina trade insults that leaned more towards fond teasing enough that she recognizes it in his tone. Not a rebuke, but a joke.

His wings unfurl from his back, and with one smooth, languid flap, he’s airborne. "You need to relax. Have fun."

He’s halfway to the trees before she unglues her feet from the ground. She follows him at a slow, hesitant jog, before she starts getting faster, and faster, and faster, careful to use her own strength, her own speed, and not any of the Wolf’s.

It should feel like a bad idea, this frantic race through the grass. It should feel like giving in to the beast and its restlessness, but it doesn’t. The Wolf is a creature of rage and violence and there is none of that in this. She races into the trees, fast enough to make her legs burn, her breath to rasp, to dissolve all the tension and the fear that have been steadily growing in her chest for days, and all she feels is a burgeoning joy.

She breaks through the treeline and slows to a stop, gasping for breath, when something lands on the ground at her feet. It takes a moment for her brain to register that it’s a bag filled with Puck’s signature slime bombs, just before one splatters on top of her head. She glances up, spluttering in surprise, her nose curling at the stench, to find Puck grinning down at her, another slime bomb held in his hand, a dare in one raised eyebrow. Red only hesitates for a moment before she snatches up her bag and the game begins. She doesn't know how much time passes as they fling them at each other. Every one of his hits her, but she ends up laughing too hard to aim, so most of hers miss him.

She’s covered in slime from head to toe as they make their way back downstairs, but the grin is still stretched wide on her face. Daphne squeals in delight when she spots her and starts telling Red all the ways she can use the slime to style her hair, while Sabrina moves to punch Puck’s arm, even after Red tells her it’s fine. Everything’s perfectly fine. She feels a steady, buzzing warmth, the Wolf long forgotten, and she’s happy enough that she doesn’t even mind the smell.

Daphne never gives her the chance to feel out of place, never gives her the chance to blend into the background. She has always made Red feel welcome, but Red also knows that's just who Daphne is. She chats up strangers in the diner, makes friends with everyone in school, adopts every stray animal she finds outside. She is kind, and she is friendly, and wonderful, full of love and joy, but that doesn't mean she loves Red like a member of the family. Red is just someone who happens to live in the same house. She's just someone who happens to be there when Daphne wants to talk to someone.

Red firmly believes this until the day Daphne marches up to her and asks if she can fix Red’s hair. The request catches Red so much by surprise that she can only nod her head. Daphne's answering grin is bright and contagious as she grabs Red's hand and all but drags her into her room.

Daphne is a whirlwind, all noise and light and unbridled joy, but in this moment it’s more subdued. She sits behind Red, more still than she’s ever been but talking a mile a minute, and Red sits still and stiff, afraid that any wrong move will shatter the moment. She's seen Daphne and Sabrina do each others hair on more than one occasion, that steady ease and familiarity they have for each other filling her with an ache of longing strong enough to take her breath away. She feels that longing swell in her chest now, feels that desire for this to mean more than just an act of boredom.

Daphne combs through Red’s hair before she begins to braid it, talks about school and friends and drama and magic lessons, and coaxes Red into the conversation, and Red can feel the tension uncoil from her shoulders. When Red's braids meet Daphne’s seal of approval, they switch places and Red starts working on Daphne's hair. Red has never been good at carrying on a conversation, but the words come easy to her now, and she feels a bit of sorrow when she finishes the last braid, already mourning the loss of this moment.

But Daphne drags them both to the nearest mirror, and the two of them try different poses before dissolving into uncontrollable giggles.

Daphne slings an arm around Red's shoulders and beams at their reflection. "There," she says. "Now we just have to do Sabrina's hair and then we'll all match. The entire town will be talking about the three Grimm sisters and their awesomesauce hair."

Red brushes her fingers across her braids. “Awesomesauce,” she echoes around the lump that forms in her throat. Daphne’s words echo in her mind, and the smile that curls her lips stays on her face the entire day.

Of all of them, she thinks Sabrina will be the one to kick her out.

Red doesn’t blame her. Sabrina has an unshakable love for her family that Red has always admired. She cares fiercely for the ones she loves, and she does everything she can to keep her family safe. Red is dangerous. There is no guarantee that she’ll be able to keep the Wolf under control. Her being in this house is a danger to everyone Sabrina cares about, and she understands if the other girl doesn’t want her around.

A nightmare wakes Red in the middle of the night. It’s different from the ones she normally has. There’s no blood, no death, no fear. There’s just the hollow ache of standing in an empty house, searching every room for people who left a long time ago.

Her chest constricts and she pushes herself out of bed fast enough to make her head light. She slips out of her room but hesitates in the hallway. Part of her wants to see Mr. Canis, but she knows he didn't sleep well the night before and she doesn't want to wake him, so instead she heads downstairs. She'll get a glass of water, she'll give herself time to calm down, to realize how ridiculous she's being, and then everything will be fine.

She heads into the kitchen and almost runs right into Sabrina.

Sabrina blinks at her in surprise as Red mumbles a quick apology and then frowns.

“Everything okay?” Sabrina asks.

“Yes,” she stammers. “I just . . .I couldn’t sleep.”

Sabrina’s lips twist into a wry smile, one eyebrow rising. “Sure, me too,” she says, and Red notices the dark circles under Sabrina's eyes, the haggard expression on her face.

For a moment, she hesitates between asking Sabrina if she's okay or pretending she doesn't notice. She cares about Sabrina, she wants to know if she's okay, if she needs to talk, but she also knows Sabrina doesn't normally like for people to pry.

In the end, Red just jerks her head in a stilted nod and slips past Sabrina into the kitchen. She's grabbing a glass when Sabrina calls out her name.

She turns to find Sabrina hovering in the doorway, scowling at a spot on the floor. “If you ever want . . .if you need . . .” Sabrina sucks in a frustrated breath, her gaze traveling up to the ceiling. “Talking sometimes helps. And I know what it’s like . . .”

She trails off into an awkward silence but Red can fill in the rest. She knows what it’s like to be abandoned. She knows what it’s like to cling to your family tight enough to hurt, afraid they’ll disappear in the blink of an eye. She knows what it’s like, watching someone die right in front of you.

Sabrina crosses her arms, shifts on her feet, uncrosses her arms again. Her eyes drop from the ceiling to meet Red’s, and her shoulder twitches in a shrug. “You know, if you want.”

Heat prickles the back of Red’s eyes and she furiously blinks the tears away, knowing they will only make Sabrina mortified. “Thanks,” she whispers, her voice hoarse.

Sabrina nods her head and gives Red a small but genuine smile before she slips out of the room.

It’s easier falling back to sleep, and Red spends the rest of the night dreaming of nothing, comfroted in the warm knowledge that someone cares.

These are the ways they love her.

Hours of meditation. Bedroom doors open in the middle of the night. Pranks and jokes and gifts made just for her. Listening to nightmares and worries. A surprise dinner of her favorite food.

Slowly, Red stops walking on thin ice. She stops forcing herself to blend into the background. Stops searching their faces for the same tics, the same expressions, she vaguely remembers on her parents’ face that day they left her at her grandmothers.

Relda’s house has always felt like home, and Red stops doubting that feeling. She stops fearing that they will leave her behind or reject her. The Grimms are her family and they will always be there for her.

#the sisters grimm #sisters grimm #sisters grimm holiday exchange #red riding hood #mr. canis #daphne grimm #sabrina grimm #puck #this got a bit away from me #advisortotheadvisor

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