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skyward-floored · 8 months

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Whumptober Day 13: Cold compress, Infection, “I don’t feel so good”

This was originally day 2’s fic, but looking at the prompts, I decided to swap them because they fit a little better. Course this one didn’t turn out exactly the way I wanted... *grumble grumble*

Also my medical research was a bit stymied by a lot of “if this happens you’re dead basically” but this is fiction so I decided it was fine. He’s fine. Dw.

Read on ao3

Warnings: injury, infected injury, intense symptoms that arise from infected injury.

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Warriors hurried through the woods, nearly tripping on a root as the setting sun shone in his eyes through the trees.

He’d been away from the cave where he’d left Four for more than an hour now, collecting water and looking for signs of the others, and leaving the smithy alone had sent his stomach into knots, even though it had been a necessary trip.

He and Four had been separated from the others after a portal the night before, dropped right into a rough fight. Warriors was only superficially injured, but Four had gotten a nasty gash that went nearly from his ankle to his knee.

They’d done their best to clean and bandage it, but they had no potions and few supplies, and the smithy had lost a lot of blood. He put on a brave face, but was obviously in a lot of pain, and couldn’t even stand without Warriors holding him up.

“I’ll be fine,” he’d said before Warriors had left, but the captain had heard the tremble in his voice, despite the easy-going grin Four had shot him.

And Warriors had left him anyway.

You had no other option, he tried to tell himself as the small cave where he and Four had hunkered down came into view. We needed more water, and that stream was the closest one. Leaving him completely undefended and barely able to move was your only option...

Warriors quickly brushed past the handful of vines that half-obscured the opening, and looked around, breathing heavily from his run.

“Smithy?” he asked as he caught his breath, and the small lump near the wall shifted slightly, revealing a few wayward strands of blond hair.

Warriors let out a quiet sigh of relief at the sight and went over to the pile. Two eyes peered at him through tired sockets, pale cheeks making the grey of Four’s eyes seem even brighter, and for a moment when they caught the light, they almost seemed to shine with a faint iridescence.

“...Wars?” Four mumbled, and Warriors quickly got to a knee next to him, studying the smithy.

Perhaps it was because he’d been away from him for a while, but Four looked significantly worse than he had just an hour ago, pale and weak, trembling when he moved. He seemed even smaller like this, and terribly young, but Warriors firmly shook his worry aside, placing a gentle hand on his forehead. The heat that met him made his heart sink, and he leaned back, feeling dread creep up his spine.

If Four had a fever, that could only mean two things, neither of them good.

“You’re back,” Four murmured in a tired voice, and Warriors nodded, guilt threatening to knock him over with its intensity.

“Yes. I’m so sorry I was gone as long as I was,” he apologized quietly, and Four hummed.

“S’okay. I was fine.”

Warriors looked at him a moment, then asked if he could check his bandages.

Four mumbled an affirmative as he stretched out his leg, and Warriors gently began removing the bandages, trying to convince himself that Four’s skin was merely hot from being wrapped in a blanket. He pulled the bandages loose, and stopped short, heart sinking at the sight underneath confirming what he had suspected.

The gash was now an angry red, inflamed and radiating heat. The edges had hints of pus around them, an unpleasant smell hitting his nose, and Warriors swallowed, setting aside the old bandages and wishing fervently he had more supplies.

Infection had set in.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Four murmured when he continued to stare, and Warriors nodded, dread hollowing out his chest. “....it infected?”

“Yes,” Warriors said steadily, hoping his voice didn’t betray his fear. “But I’ll get you through it until the others find us. You’ll be fine Smithy.”

“That’s good...”

He went silent, and Warriors got to work cleaning the wound as best as he could, murmuring apologies whenever Four flinched. The bandages were replaced overtop it, and Warriors leaned back, looking over his work. He had laughably few supplies to be dealing with an infection, or really any injury, but he did his best.

No worse then some of the supply shortages in the war.

He could handle this.

“Wars..?” Four murmured a little bit after he finished, and the captain looked down at him, still swaddled in blankets.

“Yes smithy?”

Four looked at him a moment, his grey eyes looking unnaturally bright, then he closed them, turning his head to the side.

“...I don’t feel so good,” Four admitted quietly.

And that more than anything else that had happened today made Warriors’ heart stop with fear. Four never admitted to feeling anything less than fine.

Ever.

Warriors swallowed, and pushed down the panic that was threatening to constrict him. Focus on the problem!

“Can you try eating something?” Warriors said quietly. “You need to keep up your strength.”

Four nodded in reply, and Warriors handed him some of the food they had, watching him nibble silently at the bread. He only managed about half before stopping, and Warriors helped him lie back down, unable to stop himself from feeling his forehead again.

It seemed even hotter, and he quietly sent up a prayer, hoping fervently that Four would only improve.

Goddesses please let this be mild.

But as the sun sank below the horizon and twilight set in, Four grew more and more hazy, taking longer to reply to Warriors’ questions, hands shaking when he reached for water. With every star that appeared, his shivers increased, and Warriors soon found himself waging war against Four’s raging fever.

The smithy kept turning from side to side, seeming like he just couldn’t get comfortable no matter how he lay. Sweat poured down his face, and Warriors had to stop him from getting up more than once, his addled brain making him forget he was injured.

He’d deteriorated so rapidly, Warriors was beginning to wonder if Four had already been sick.

The smithy moaned, and Warriors replaced the damp cloth over his forehead after it was knocked off yet again, sighing as he brushed some dirt off of it.

“Wars...” Four croaked, and the captain ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching on the sweaty strands.

“I’m here smithy, you’re alright,” he said softly, and Four closed his eyes, face screwed up in a wince.

“Wh-where’s everyone else..?” he asked, cracking his eyes open again.

“We were separated, remember Four?” Warriors reminded him. “I’m sure they’re nearby, they’ll be here soon. I know they have potions, so as soon as they get here we’ll fix you up.”

“Oh... good,” he said hazily, then shivered as he closed his eyes. “Not feeling s-so great...”

“I know, just hang on Smithy,” Warriors said quietly, running his hand through his hair again. “You’ll be okay.”

Four leaned into the touch, and soon fell asleep, still shivering on and off. Warriors tucked him a little closer to his side, and made sure he was wrapped fully in the blanket. All he could really do was keep Four comfortable, and try to ease his symptoms until the others found them.

He just hoped it would be enough.

Warriors spent most of the night in a light doze, tending to Four and keeping an ear out for anything approaching the cave. Sometime before dawn Four began to whimper, and Warriors calmed him down, wiping the sweat from his face yet again. His worry only grew stronger as he felt his temperature, and he looked down at the smithy in dismay.

Four looked dazed where he was lying, his eyes half-lidded, shivers wracking through his body. Warriors had never seen him so fragile-looking before, and it... scared him, honestly.

Warriors admittedly didn’t know all that much about Four, not compared to some of the others. But he knew that he was an experienced young man, and possessed a surprising strength for his size, in both physical and mental capacities. Four always came across as so put-together, strong in the face of pain, and dependable to a fault.

Seeing him laid up by an infection, shivering and moaning, and pale as a sheet, worried Warriors more then he’d care to admit.

He’d never seen Four like this.

Warriors sighed, and leaned away to rifle through his bag yet again, hoping he’d find some supplies he’d somehow missed. But a hand grabbed at his arm, hot and shaking, and he looked back to see Four’s expression had turned to a frantic one, eyes wide and scared.

“Don’... don’ leave...” Four breathed, his voice slurred and panicked. “Don’...”

“I’m not going to leave,” Warriors soothed as he leaned back to where he had been, wiping Four’s face again. “I’m staying right here.”

A violent shiver wracked through him, and Warriors moved Four so he was more on his lap, hoping his body heat would help warm him up. Four whimpered and turned into Warriors’ chest, and the captain ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, firmly squashing his fear.

Four would be fine. He was strong. He would be able to fight through this until the others came.

The words were harder to believe the next day when Four was in even worse shape.

His temperature was blistering hot, so much that Warriors was beginning to run out of water to dip the cloth in. He thought about heading to the stream again, but the thought of leaving Four alone in his condition made his stomach churn. Leaving Four by himself wasn’t an option, unless it was a matter of life or death.

It may come to that, he thought grimly as Four moaned, sweat pouring down his face.

“Z-Zel...” he murmured, shivering under the blankets Warriors had placed over him. “Vio, y-you have t...”

Four’s feverish gaze caught on Warriors’ scarf, and his eyes widened, reaching a hand out towards him.

“W-Wars, don’...” he whispered, and Warriors took his hand in his. “I’m not crazy, I’m n-not... I’m not...”

A tear trickled down his cheek, and Warriors gently squeezed his hand.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Four,” he said in a reassuring voice, and Four closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“Everyone does...” he whimpered, more tears falling. “Th-they say I talk to nothing, a-and my shadow... they don’t think Zel should b-be near... me...”

He let out a hiccupy sob, and Warriors tucked him more into his arms, rubbing his back to try and calm him down.

“Shh, smithy, you’re alright,” he said, and Four buried his head in his lap, a muffled sob escaping him.

“I’m not crazy... I’m not crazy...” Four cried into his tunic, and Warriors continued to hold him until his breathing evened out, and he fell back asleep.

Warriors held him a little tighter, and cleaned his wound again, using up the last of his bandages.

Please, let them find us.

The hours ticked by with nary a sign of anyone aside from themselves, and Four grew weaker every time Warriors checked. He could barely get him to eat anything, no less drink, and his feverish rambling had mostly petered out, replaced only with occasional, faint mumbling.

Warriors never let him go, dutifully cleaning his wound, helping him drink water, and calming him down when he suddenly started crying or otherwise reacted strangely.

Four abruptly woke up again and started gasping that the mirror was broken, and no matter what Warriors did he couldn’t get him to calm down, the smithy either ignoring Warriors’ presence or completely unaware of it.

“Link, easy, you’re safe,” Warriors said soothingly, but Four only panicked even more, nearly throwing himself out of Warriors’ arms.

“He wants to marry her!” Four screamed, and tried to jump to his feet. Warriors put an arm around him to stop him from moving, and Four thrashed, surprisingly strong. “No! No, no no l-lemme go!”

“Four, please, it’s okay,” Warriors tried, and Four screamed again, though it quickly dissolved into more sobbing.

“No, no no no sh-she’s dead...” he wailed, and Warriors held him tight to his chest, trying to comfort him in the only way his addled brain could understand. “Th-the bell... E-Ezlo we were too late.”

He let out an agonized sob, then stared up at Warriors’ face, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Then he abruptly fell limp.

Warriors’ heart skipped a beat as all of Four’s frantic resisting stopped, and his head fell against his arm.

“Smithy?” he asked, but Four didn’t reply, and Warriors quickly turned him over, careful not to jar his leg. “Link. Link.”

Four didn’t move, and Warriors pressed an ear to his chest, blood roaring in his ears. Come on Four, please...

A faint breath rattled under his ear, and Warriors exhaled in relief, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. He was still alive. He still had time.

But now he had a choice.

He could stay here, in a defensible position, safe from monsters and other dangers, or... try and find help.

It wouldn’t be the best for Four to be moved, not with his leg injured, and the overall state he was in. But between sitting here and watching more and more life drain out of him, or be out and actively searching for a way to help...

Warriors closed his eyes, and began to shove things into his pouch.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Staying here wasn’t doing Four any favors.

At least out of the cave, they’d have a chance of finding a town, one with a doctor, or maybe even a fairy loose in the forest. If they were truly fortunate they’d come across the others, but Warriors wasn’t confident in that regard.

They might not even be in the same era as us.

Warriors finished collecting all of his things, and he nudged Four, hoping for a reaction of some kind.

Nothing.

“Come on Smithy. We’re going to find the others,” Warriors said softly, and pulled Four up into his arms, blankets and all. “Or a fairy or something, but we’re not waiting here any longer.”

Four’s head flopped against his shoulder, and Warriors got him settled, making sure his leg especially was secure and wouldn’t be knocked around.

Then he set off into the woods, the late afternoon sun lighting his path.

The weight of Four in his arms was a familiar one, and as Warriors trotted quickly along, he couldn’t help but think back to during the war, and carrying around a different blond hero.

He’d ended up carrying Mask around more than once, but he remembered one incident in particular where Mask had broken his ankle, and Warriors had had to carry him since he could barely move. Mask had nearly complained his ear off at not being able to walk, but he’d rested his head on Warriors’ shoulder anyway, and in the end, fallen asleep in his arms.

Four let out a weak moan, and Warriors sped up his pace. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in memories.

The woods went by at a steady pace, Warriors keeping a sharp eye out for any herbs or fairies or anything that could help Four. His eye didn’t catch on anything though, and all he could do was keep walking as the sun began to go down, and the shadows grew longer.

Four remained almost completely still in his arms, and Warriors stopped more than once to make sure he was still breathing. It was hard to make out, but it was there, and as long as Four was fighting, Warriors would keep walking.

As long as it took.

A flicker of light caught his eye, and Warriors turned to it, immediately hopeful.

“Hello?” he called, then immediately cursed himself for giving himself away. If it was a monster, they were dead.

But Four doesn’t have much longer anyway.

The light flickered again, and Warriors stayed still as he watched it, on guard, but hopeful. A blue, glowing creature abruptly poked its head up, and Warriors stared, watching as it wiggled its... antennae?

Is that a rabbit? he thought wonderingly, staring at the little creature in awe. He’d never seen one before, only heard stories. It’s cute I guess... in a weird sort of way.

“...Can you help me?” he asked, slowly crouching down while still holding Four to his chest. “My friend needs to be healed, he’s... he’s sick.”

The rabbit tilted it’s head, then hopped an inch or two forward, it’s heart-shaped face turned towards Four. It’s nose twitched slightly, then it bolted away and disappeared into a shower of sparkles.

Warriors stared, then closed his eyes in disappointment. He should have known better. Strange magical creatures in the woods were rarely helpful, unless they were fairies.

Four let out a weak murmur, and Warriors pressed his forehead to the smithy’s burning one.

“I’m sorry Four,” he apologized in a whisper, listening to his labored breathing. “I’m so sorry.”

A faint flicker of light caught his eye again, and Warriors raised his head, meeting the golden eyes of the blue rabbit.

It blinked at him, then tilted its head, almost as if it was beckoning him towards him. Warriors carefully got to his feet and took a step forward, and the rabbit twitched it’s antennae, taking a hop away from him. Warriors repeated the action, and the rabbit hopped again, and he began to follow it through the woods, hope starting to rise in his chest.

The sun began to disappear behind the tree trunks, the sky darkening and making the glow of the rabbit stick out more.

Warriors continued to follow, Four growing heavy in his arms. He was still sore from the battle that Four had been injured in, and gotten barely any sleep the night before. He was tired, and aching, and nearly sick with fear for Four, but he kept going, Four’s head tucked under his chin.

The rabbit suddenly stopped in its tracks, raising itself up onto its haunches and twitching its nose. Warriors stopped as well, and the rabbit met his eyes again, glowing softly in the darkness of the woods.

“Captain?!”

Warriors’ head shot to the side, and he nearly fell to his knees in relief as Sky and Wild ran towards him, their worried faces lit by a glowing rod Wild held.

“We’ve been looking for you for days Captain! After that portal we were all together except you and— what happened to Four?” Wild asked, and Warriors closed his eyes as Sky put a worried hand on Four’s head.

“Infection. We need to get him to camp,” he managed to get out, worry for Four one of the few things still fueling him. Sky gave him a searching look as Wild immediately began to lead them back the way they came, and Warriors didn’t resist when he gave him a bit of support.

“How did you find us?” Sky asked, and Warriors glanced back at the rabbit, not surprised to see the creature was nowhere to be found.

“...long story,” he settled with, and Four murmured something in his arms as Sky nodded in silence. Warriors held the smithy tighter, and ran a hand through his hair.

Hold on Four. You’re safe now, you’ll be okay.

Just hold on.

#all tiny creatures care for Four #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu four #lu warriors #linked universe fanfic #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #day 13 #cold compress #infection #i don’t feel good #writing from the floor

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 8 months

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The Job (Part 1)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 23. Forced to Watch, Alt 25. Stalked Fandom: Peaky Blinders, Tommy Shelby, f!reader, prostitute!reader Summary: Tommy has been hiring you for your services for a while now, but this is the first time he has asked you for help concerning his family business... Word Count: 3205 TW: Fighting, Razor Blades, Blood, Forced to Watch, Stalked, Prostitution, Reader as Bait, Smoking, Implied Death Notes: A HUGE thanks to @loverhymeswith who not only sent me the ask that inspired this fic and supported its writing, but also for getting me into Peaky Blinders in the first place! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Mastlist (coming soon)

Part 1, Part 2

“I want to hire you for a job.”

You grinned at Tommy over your shoulder as you finished buttoning up your blouse and began to pull on your skirt. “I’m pretty sure you just did.”

But Tommy didn’t seem amused by your joke. His piercing blue eyes stared at you for a long moment, his face void of emotion and completely unreadable. Then he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. As he placed it between his lips, he said, “A different sort of job. On Friday night, I need you to make yourself look pretty and go down to The Marquis of Lorne.”

“The Marquis of—” you turned to look at him straight on. “Why would you want me to go to that pub when The Garrison is right here? Places like that on the edge of your territory… People there don’t always take kindly to me. Not with my reputation and all that.”

Tommy took a long drag on his cigarette. “It’s precisely because of your reputation that I’m asking you to go.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you asked, “And why, pray tell, is that? What are you expecting me to do once I’m there? Because I’ve told you before, I pick who I service and I won’t have you demanding–”

“It’s nothing like that,” Tommy said, calmly. “Like I already told you, it’s a different sort of job. Your reputation alone is more than enough to fit my needs. Just go to The Marquis, order a few drinks ‘til you’ve created the illusion you’ve become intoxicated, and then walk out the pub, simple as that. I’ll be waiting for you after at my stables down by the canal.”

“And why do I feel like that’s not your whole plan? It still doesn’t explain why The Marquis and not some other pub.”

Tommy tapped the end of his cigarette into the glass of water you had left out on the table. You had scolded him about doing so countless times but now did not seem like the moment to comment on it. Raising the cigarette to his lips once more, he said, “There is a new gang trying to move in on our territories. They think we haven’t noticed and we mean to put an end to it before they realize we caught on. They frequent The Marquis on Friday nights so I need you to go in, get their attention, and once you have made them believe your tongue is nice and loose, I want you to start spilling all of the Peaky Blinders’s secrets— the false ones I tell you to say, of course.”

“Ahhh…” you nodded, the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “You want me to make them believe you’ve let slip sensitive information when you come to me for my services. Which is why you want me for my reputation. They’ll think Thomas Shelby’s favorite whore has caught him with his pants down in more ways than one.”

“I’ve always said you were a clever one.” For the first time since he had gotten dressed, something akin to a smile ghosted across Tommy’s lips.

Walking over to where he was sitting, you plucked the cigarette from his fingers and placed it in your mouth. You inhaled before slowly blowing the smoke out right in Tommy’s face. “So, that’s it? I provide these fools who are crazy enough to try and challenge you false information on the Peaky Blinders and then just go along my way?”

Tommy ignored the smoke as he reached out and took his cigarette back, his fingers lingering for a moment as they brushed against yours. “Like you said, these men are fools. They’ll believe your deception. And when you leave the pub announcing you are going to sleep it off in one of the Peaky Blinders’s empty stash houses, they will follow you. And I will be waiting.”

You had to admit, it was a clever plan. Due to the popularity of the Peaky Blinders and the constant gossip surrounding them, everyone throughout Birmingham knew who you were and about your weekly dealings with Tommy Shelby. Everywhere you went, whispers seemed to follow you and you often caught people pointing or staring. Not that you usually minded. It was actually rather good for business. After all, what man wouldn’t want to say they had bedded the same woman as the head of the Peaky Blinders?

But while you had been servicing Tommy weekly for almost a year, he had never asked you to get involved in any Peaky Blinders business before this. In fact, Tommy had made it very clear from the start that you were to have no part in that aspect of his life. You were his momentary escape, a place where he could spend an hour or so without the weight of the world on his shoulders. So for him to come to you now asking this…. He must be more concerned about the other gang than he was letting on.

“And what happens once I lead them to the stables? I’m guessing you aren’t looking for a friendly chat.”

“You just get them there and leave the rest to me,” Tommy said as he dropped the remains of his cigarette butt into your glass of water. Standing, he placed his large hands on your shoulders and gave you a tight smile. “So, do we have an arrangement?”

Biting your lip, you mulled the question over for a moment. Tommy was a brilliant strategist and you had no doubt his plan would work. But his brush off of your questions about what happened afterward had a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. However, it was ill-advised to say no to someone as powerful as Thomas Shelby, so somewhat reluctantly, you said, “Fine. But I expect double my usual fee.”

“Done.” Tommy gave your shoulders a soft squeeze then turned to grab his cap off the table. “I’ll send Polly around in the morning with the details of what you should say. She can also help you find something to wear. Then head to The Marquis on Friday at seven and you know what to do.”

His hand reached for the door, but you called out, “Tommy” – he paused and turned to face you – “I’ll do what you want this once because it’s you who’s asking, but I’m not a Peaky Blinder. And I won’t have anything else to do with their business or transgressions. I don’t want to be involved with that lot. Are we understood?”

For a moment, Tommy didn’t move as he stared at you, save for one exaggerated blink of his icy blue eyes. You wondered if you went too far and said something you shouldn’t have. But then, he nodded, his tongue sliding across his full lips. “Understood.”

You smiled in relief and ducked your head, but before you could thank him, Tommy walked out the door.

As with most of Tommy’s plans, everything that Friday night went exactly as he predicted. Polly ended up bringing you a flashy new dress to wear that Tommy had purchased and from the moment you stepped into The Marquis of Lorne, you felt the weight of dozens of eyes on you. From there, it was easy to loudly drop Tommy’s name and your connection to him as you pretended to drink—as well as your “top secret” facts about the Peaky Blinders. Your table was soon swarmed by the gang members you were targeting, each offering to buy you another drink in the hopes of loosening your tongue further.

As the night wore on, a few of the men began getting more familiar with you than you were comfortable with, but you maintained your drunken facade and smiled through it. In your line of work, you had dealt with much worse before. However after one man stuck his hand up the bottom of your dress, you decided things had gone far enough and you rose unsteadily to your feet as you announced you were taking your leave. The men tried to convince you to stay or let them walk you home, but you insisted you would be alright on your own—there was an empty Peaky Blinders stash house nearby that you could sleep in for the night. You bit your lip to hide the smile threatening to break across your face as all the men’s eyes grew wide and they exchanged telling glances. Tommy Shelby, you are one brilliant man.

As you made your way out of the pub and into the foggy night, you could hear the men following close behind you. This was the part of the plan that concerned you the most. Back in the pub, there were other patrons who would step in if one of the men went too far or you called out for help. But out here on the empty road in the middle of the night, you doubted anyone would come to your aid if the men decided to approach you. You just had to trust Tommy knew what he was talking about and they would be more interested in finding the fake stash house than harassing you.

You breathed a sigh of relief as Tommy’s stable came into view. He had promised to meet you but as you got closer, there was no sign that anyone was there. Hesitating by the door, you wondered what you should do. There was no back door that you knew of so if something had happened and Tommy wasn’t there, you would be trapped inside alone with the gang between you and the only way out. But even if you decided to leave and continue on down the road, the gang would continue following you until they eventually grew suspicious and confronted you. So there was really no choice. You said a quick, silent prayer that Tommy was waiting for you, and you stepped inside.

You continued walking until you reached the far wall of the stable, but still, no Tommy. Your heart was beating furiously in your chest as the men behind you began to call out to you—crude, drunken taunts, and horrifying descriptions of what they were going to do to you. Spinning around, you looked everywhere desperately trying to find anything you could use to protect yourself with, but there were only a few hay bales. Trembling, you sunk to the ground and waited for the worst to come.

But just as the closest man was about to reach you, a figure stepped into the doorway of the stable, eclipsing the moonlight that had been illuminating the darkened space. Relief flooded through you as you recognized that familiar silhouette. Tommy had kept his word.

The men all turned and must have recognized him a few seconds after you did because a hushed murmur rippled through their group as they looked at him. Despite the fact they very obviously outnumbered him, you could sense the air of fear emanating from them, and you couldn’t blame them. While he may only be one man, this was Tommy Fucking Shelby they were facing. And that should be enough to terrify an army of men.

Tommy began to slowly walk forward, closing the distance between him and the men. As he slipped his jacket off and tossed it to the side, he called out in a strong voice that filled the stable, “Word on the streets is that you boys are trying to move in on our territory. Take things that are ours while you think we aren’t looking.”

He gestured to where you were still huddled on the ground. Now that he had come closer, you could just make out his face. He raised one eyebrow at you, a silent query if you were alright. You nodded shakily and rose to your feet, still pressed tightly against the wall. You felt his eyes scanning you for anything amiss, and he gave a satisfied nod when he deemed you safe.

Then, addressing the men once more, he continued. “You are not the first to think you could come for the Peaky Blinders and I am certain you won’t be the last. But I’m here to make certain that after tonight, you won’t be a problem any longer.”

Tommy came to a stop—his heels clicking loudly together—just a few inches before the closest man. Though his back was to you, you could tell the man was frightened by the way his hands shook as he raised them in the air.

Tommy smiled at the gesture…. then ripped off his cap and slashed it across the man’s throat.

You gasped in horror and pressed your hands to your mouth as a trail of blood flew through the air and splattered on the floor. Almost in slow motion, the man dropped to his knees, a horrendous gurgling emanating from his ruined throat. Then Tommy swung his cap again, using the razorblades sewn in the brim to finish the job, and the man toppled over without another sound.

The stable burst into chaos. The rest of the men rushed at Tommy but he was ready for them. Normally, it would have been near impossible odds with Tommy outnumbered so, but the men had been drinking very heavily back in the pub and their senses were dulled considerably. Tommy was able to avoid most of their attacks while landing blow after blow on the men—his razorblades sending blood flying with every swing.

You of course knew of the Peaky Blinders’s signature weapon of choice, yet this was the first time you had seen anyone use it in action. It was a horrendously strange sight to see: Tommy swinging something so innocuous as his tweed flat cap at the other men just for a burst of crimson blood to bloom in that same spot. And the fluid manner in which Tommy ducked and dodged, weaving his way from one man to the next, was almost beautiful in a way. Like a dancer taking the stage—stage made of blood.

There was no avoiding it. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, burning your nose. Somehow, it even blocked out the pungent smells from all of the horses. Even in only the pale glow from the moonlight, everywhere you looked was dripping red. You had only been spared because you had dove sideways to huddle behind the hay bales next to you once the attack began, but they had taken the full brunt of the carnage. Blood was slowly filtering through the tightly packed hay as it traveled downward toward the ground—the pool on the floor steadily creeping closer to your feet.

You had to escape this massacre as soon as possible.

Eventually, you saw an opening but just as you gathered up your dress to make a dash to freedom, Tommy spun around and pointed one blood-soaked finger at you. “You! Stay where you are.”

You froze, unsure of your next move. Tommy had never said anything about you remaining once you had done your part. Your only job was to lure the men to the stable and he would take care of the rest. Surely he didn’t mean for you to remain here to witness this slaughter?

And yet, he remained standing there with all of his focus on you despite his remaining enemies still swarming around him, blood dripping off of the end of his outstretched finger. So you did the only thing you could. You released your dress, letting the fabric fall once more to the ground, and nodded to him even as you shrank back behind the hay bales, quivering in fear.

Seemingly satisfied that you wouldn’t attempt to bolt again, Tommy slowly lowered his hand and turned back to the melee. There were only a few men still standing—the others were left moaning on the ground as they clutched at their wounds, or worse still, some lay perfectly still in growing pools of their own blood.

With fewer opponents charging him at once, Tommy took a new, less frantic approach to the fight. Instead of attacking with the blades sewn into his hat, he began to use his fists— the sound of breaking bones echoing throughout the open area as his knuckles slammed into noses and cheekbones. One man even dropped like a stone as Tommy drove his fist into the man’s jaw.

And you were forced to watch it all, terrified of what Tommy might do if you even glanced away. The one saving grace that made it even slightly bearable was that the clouds had shifted to partially cover the moon, hindering the visibility inside the stable. But that did nothing to shield you from the sounds or smells surrounding you.

Finally—mercifully—Tommy struck down the last of the gang members. He stood in the middle of the stable, chest heaving, as he looked around at the carnage surrounding him. Like this, he resembled some ancient god of war reveling in his battlefield, washed in the blood of his enemies.

Satisfied the fight was over, he picked his way through the maze of bodies on the floor and stopped before your hiding place. He held out his hand to you, but you ignored it, unable to touch the blood that coated it. Instead, you stepped out from behind the hay bales on your own and stood before him, unable to meet his eye.

He leaned in close until his face was only a breath’s distance from you and he said, “Next time I pay you for a service, you don’t leave until you are given permission. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, Tommy,” you managed to choke out, tears stinging your eyes.

His eyes flickered over you, and even with such a slight gesture, you felt the weight of his gaze as it examined every inch of you. You had stood bare in front of Thomas Shelby more times than you could count, had him thrust into the deepest part of your core on a weekly basis, and yet, you had never felt as exposed or vulnerable as you did right now.

As his eyes settled once more on your face, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a stack of money. He placed it on the hay bale beside you and you shuttered to see his bloody fingerprints stained on the top bill.

“I included a little extra for your trouble.” Your eyes snapped back up to look at him. Despite the circumstances, Tommy’s voice was as calm and level as always. It was the sort of tone one would expect to hear him use when he visited the church or held a business meeting, not when standing there surrounded by the corpses of his enemies and dyed red with their blood.

“Now you are free to go.” He turned and walked calmly back towards the stable entrance. Pausing only momentarily to pick up his jacket, he slid it on in one fluid motion as he added, his back still turned towards you, “I’ll be round Wednesday at my normal time.”

Then he disappeared into the foggy night, leaving you alone surrounded by the ghastly horror he had wrought.

Part 2 coming soon and it will be much more relationship-heavy (plus pretty steamy😉)!

#ailesswhumptober2023 #fic #whumptober #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #reader #f!reader #prostitute!reader #angst #whump #blood tw #fighting tw #razor blade tw #prostitution tw #forced to watch tw #stalking tw

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andorerso · 5 months

Text

A YEAR IN FICS - 2023

I'm a little late this year but I wasn't gonna miss out on my favorite tradition. Here we go!

you fit me better than my favorite sweater: Jyn has a gift for Cassian for Christmas, but she's worried about his reaction. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain Trees exchange

give me a lifetime and then fifty more: Cassian comes home after a prolonged trip and only wants to see his family. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain Trees exchange

i think i'm falling back in love with you: Twelve years after the last time they saw each other, childhood best friends Jyn and Cassian cross paths once more... (1/1) Modern AU.

Blood Red Rose: 1920, London. An unknown creature dubbed 'the Beast' is terrorizing the streets at night. Vampire hunter Jyn Erso and recently turned vampire Cassian Andor might just be the city's only hope to catch the monster... (23/27) chapter 23 written in 2023

let the cat out of the bag: Jyn's cat really likes her new fuck buddy. Jyn's not quite okay with this. (2/2) Modern AU. chapter 2 written in 2023 for a prompt

don't say you love me: Jyn's been in love with Cassian for eight years, but she never thought he felt the same. Right? Things get a little interesting when he asks her to be his fake girlfriend for a weekend... (3/6) Modern AU. Written for the Rogue One Crew exchange

objection, your honor: Cassian Andor hasn’t lost a case in two years, but what he doesn’t know is that neither has she. And Jyn decides he needs to be knocked down a peg or two.It’s so much more satisfying to win as the underdog. OR, Jyn and Cassian are rival divorce lawyers who also sometimes hook up. This can only end well, right? (1/2) Modern AU.

but will you return? i came looking for you: She didn’t need a weapon, she would slaughter them all with her bare hands. She just needed a location. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

fear conditioning: There was something wrong with Cassian. Something that made him look at her like she was a monster. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

left behind: Rule number one: you didn’t fight a horde. You ran. (1/1) Zombie AU. Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

tragedy in your blood: If she pretends it’s not happening, if she pretends she’s somewhere else, safe and warm in Cassian’s arms, it’s not real, right? (1/1) Major Character Death warning. Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

Amas Veritas: Jyn's a young witch who's just trying to keep her head down. But when Orson Krennic returns to town years after he allegedly killed her father, she can't help feeling like this is her chance to get some payback. What's supposed to be a harmless hex quickly turns deadly, and Jyn must now make sure no one ever finds out what she did or risk going to prison. But the pull she feels towards Cassian Andor, the private investigator the Krennics have hired complicates matters, and it doesn't help that she's sworn off love years ago due to a nasty love curse that sits upon her family. On top of it all, Krennic's ghost might be haunting her... This Halloween is shaping up to be the worst one Jyn's ever had. (6/7) Practical Magic AU. chapter 6 written in 2023

so much for stardust: Nobody would be surprised that Galen Erso’s daughter and Director Krennic’s ward liked to do things the unconventional way. OR, Jyn grows up on Coruscant but that doesn't mean she won't fight the Empire (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain Secret Santa exchange

Prompts, requests and drabbles:

College AU

I told you that I’d never leave you; I’m not going anywhere

Total works: 15 (12 new ones)

Total wordcount: 72 494

Yeah, not as good as in previous years, but I was expecting that. Still better than I thought it would be so I'm quite satisfied! These little fandom events helped tremendously <3

#my fics #rebelcaptain #a year in fics

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 8 months

Text

The Job (Part 1)

Masterlist (coming soon)

Part 1, Part 2

“I want to hire you for a job.”

You grinned at Tommy over your shoulder as you finished buttoning up your blouse and began to pull on your skirt. “I’m pretty sure you just did.”

Tommy took a long drag on his cigarette. “It’s precisely because of your reputation that I’m asking you to go.”

“And why do I feel like that’s not your whole plan? It still doesn’t explain why The Marquis and not some other pub.”

“I’ve always said you were a clever one.” For the first time since he had gotten dressed, something akin to a smile ghosted across Tommy’s lips.

“And what happens once I lead them to the stables? I’m guessing you aren’t looking for a friendly chat.”

You smiled in relief and ducked your head, but before you could thank him, Tommy walked out the door.

Then, addressing the men once more, he continued. “You are not the first to think you could come for the Peaky Blinders and I'll bet you won’t be the last. But I’m here to make certain that after tonight, you won’t be a problem any longer.”

Tommy smiled at the gesture…. then ripped off his cap and slashed it across the man’s throat.

You had to escape this massacre as soon as possible.

Eventually, you saw an opening but just as you gathered up your dress to make a dash to freedom, Tommy spun around and pointed one blood-soaked finger at you. “You! Stay where you are.”

He leaned in close until his face was only a breath’s distance from you and he said, “Next time I pay you for a service, you don’t leave until you are given permission. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, Tommy,” you managed to choke out, tears stinging your eyes.

Then he disappeared into the foggy night, leaving you alone surrounded by the ghastly horror he had wrought.

Part 2 coming soon and it will be much more relationship-heavy (plus pretty steamy😉)!

Tag list: @loverhymeswith, @heart-0n-fire, @that-sarcastic-writer, @eternallyvenus, @writercole, @deppresseddyslexic, @confetti-cakemix, @flamingdisputes, @callsign-phoenix

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meetinginsamarra · 5 months

Text

update december 2023

sorted by word count/series

———————

Mutual Attraction 94k , pre ASiP, different first meetings, casefic, pining

The day when a homeless drug addict and a suicidal ex-soldier met was the beginning of something until then unheard-of: Mutual Attraction. Of course, not all was what it looked like in the first place but the days of boredom, loneliness and lack of purpose were history. A case had to be solved, lives had to be saved and a developing relationship had to be tackled.

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Here I Am -series, the pornwithoutplot which evolved into pornwithplot with feels and whump

The Toe that didn´t belong 6.9k, Part One

Every time John thought back to the occasion the funny thing was that the first thing he had noticed to be out of place had been a…toe.

The Embers still glow when I´m sober 14,5k, Part Two

When Sherlock woke up the morning after he actually felt good. Which was completely unexpected. Although he was sort of anxious about John´s reaction when he would notice that the punk who did not belong in his bed and who had coaxed him into having shameless sex last night was still there.

Gravity is missing from everything 23.5k, Part Three

People bumped into him, cussing and throwing death glares. Blocking their way, Sherlock stood frozen in a throng of commuters. “Are you high?” one shouted into his vacant face. Funnily enough he actually was not. This was all John´s fault. Inflicting a date on him. To have dinner.

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Learn My Scars, 38k, written for whumptober 2022, Serbia and the aftermath

After being thrown down and strangled, Sherlock leaves John in the restaurant, angry and deeply hurt. When John follows Sherlock to 221b, he learns that Sherlock’s scars have not been acquired by “gallivanting around” for two years.

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The 13th Book 26.5k, a magical realism AU with demon Sherlock

Summoning a demon was actually quite simple if you could avoid getting killed in the process. Therefore, only the powerful, the desperate or the stupid would attempt it. John Watson was likely the first, definitely the second but hopefully not one of the third kind.

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Wretched and Divine – series punklock and doctor John

Wretched and Divine 5.1k, Part One

Dr. John Watson is on call at the A&E when he attempts to treat a very special patient. Instead he finds himself a very special treat.

The Aftermath is Secondary 19.5k, Part Two

Will John and Sherlock really go on the agreed date in the infamous punkrock club “The Misfit”? Will their sexual tension finally be resolved? Is it really going to be dangerous? And will Sherlock really wear the promised fishnet top? (Oh God, yessss!)

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Sherlock’s Secret Laboratory Journal 6k, my outlet for writing cracky hilarious Sherlock, will become a series with adding a chapter for each new experiment

What does a helplessly pining but absolutely clueless Sherlock do in order to woo an oblivious John? He turns to the internet for advice on the art of seduction and notes the experiments in his secret laboratory journal.

Oyster and Mushroom Soup 9k, Sherlock’s latest attempt at seduction, Part 2 of the Secret Lab Journal series

Sherlock’s second try to win over John involves a lot of special cooking recipes.

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Slowly Suffocating 9.5k, TLD fix-it, written for whumptober 2023

Getting suffocated took some time. Enough time for Sherlock to ponder what went wrong. Hopefully also long enough for John to arrive and rescue him. Culverton Smith applied more pressure, impatient to turn Sherlock into a dead thing.

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Winning a lost bet 8.2k, pole-dancing at the XMas party

A lost bet makes Sherlock and John perform a pole-dance in costumes at the Yard´s Christmas party. It was supposed to be humiliating but instead the couple nailed it.

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Until the final breath escapes 1.9k, spooky Halloween fic

In a world turned hostile they hold onto their love until the final breath escapes.

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Sherlock Ficlets for Writing Challenges 20 ficlets under 1000 words

#my Sherlock fanfics #masterpost #as of dec 2023

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spnexploration · 2 years

Text

Masterlist

Dean Winchester x Reader

Catatonic + Catatonic: Bonus Bit - Sam gets hurt on a hunt, but the message doesn't seem to be getting through to Dean. The reader has to think of something quickly to motivate him to move, but how will Dean take being threatened? And what happens when there are questions at the hospital?

Collared (masterlist) - Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

Christmas Baking - a short, fluffy fic for Secret Santa. Does include a touch of A/B/O dynamics.

Hello - light-hearted fluff fic in a royalty AU

Blood - angsty drabble

Tell me this isn't yours - slightly less angsty drabble

Captions - a silly, funny one-shot

Pack (masterlist) - Omega!Reader is thrown into a world she's not expecting when her mate turns out to be a hunter, and she's not used to Alpha & Omega Pack dynamics.

I've Got You - Dean rescues you. Lots of Protective!Dean vibes!

Distress - There's a monster hunting distressed Omegas. As an Omega Hunter, you're perfect for playing bait. Only problem is Dean is going to have to get you distressed...

Little O - In a world where Omegas are kept in line through frequent orgasms, Dean can't work out why his Omega's "O"s keep wearing off. This is not lovely Dean, but he's not dark either.

Trouble - you're in trouble with your Dom, Dean. Fairly classic punishment and then smut, with a lot of explicit consent built in.

Escort - Dean needs an escort to help him with his cover on a case (more of a case fic and flirting, no smut)

A Christmas Case - Dean drags you out of bed to go to a case, ruining your Christmas plans. But does he have a plan to make up for it?

Comments - A man you're interviewing makes some crap comments about your body, and Dean doesn't help. Can he make it up to you?

Sam Winchester x Reader

Bad Timing - Set in season 5, what happens when Dean and Sam are trying to avoid angels and demons at every turn, but then Sam's girlfriend falls pregnant? Part 2

Platonic fics

Brotherly Figures (masterlist) - Sam and Dean save a 15 year old, newly orphaned teenager from vampires. Much to their chagrin, she ends up tagging along on hunts, giving them both a fresh chance at acting like a brotherly figure.

Accidents happen - While guest acting on Supernatural, things go awry filming a fight scene with Jensen.

Captions - a silly, funny one-shot (also listed above, but nothing actually happens with Dean, so you can easily read it platonically or not)

First Heat - 16yo Dean Winchester is presenting, and he's not having a fun time of it

Challenges I've done

2023 SPN AU Bingo

Whumptober 2023 - First Heat

Want to be notified when I post a fic?

Join my tag lists!

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fic #sam winchester fic #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #platonic supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction

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oneweirdbookaddict · 8 months

Text

Whumptober day 6, also a continuation of yesterday's fic! Don't necessarily have to read it for this one, but it'd make more sense.

Wind feels bad. The others help him with his guilt.

732 words

No warnings, let me know if anyone things there should be anything!

~~~~

Wind sits in silence, staring at the fire numbly.

“Sailor?” Twi says quietly. “You doing ok? Want another potion?”

The teenager shakes his head silently.

“Can you… eat something for me?”

“Not hungry.”

“Will you try anyway?” Twi asks gently, but Wind shakes his head.

“It wasn’t your fault, Wind.” Sky says softly, slowly sitting next to Wind.

Wind’s eyes well up.

Then the kid is sinking into Sky, shoulders shaking.

“I couldn’t even move.” Wind chokes.

“You couldn’t have done anything.” Sky says gently, rubbing the sailor’s back.

“I just had to watch. I couldn’t even do anything. I couldn’t even move. He went with her because of me. I wasn’t strong enough.” Wind cries.

“No, Sailor, it’s not that, he went with her because he didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I wasn’t strong enough to beat her.” Wind sobs.

“Shh… shh… it’s not your fault. It wasn’t your fault. Wars chose to do what he did for you, Sailor. Not because you’re weak, but because he cares about you.”

Sky’s hand brushes through Wind’s hair, rubbing his back, talking softly as Wind cries.

“She has this magic- and we were taken by surprise- and- and- it should’ve been me- it should’ve been me, not him, I should’ve-”

“Shh…” Sky whispers, wrapping his sailcloth around the teenager.

He joins the two by the fire, putting a hand on Wind’s shoulder and brushing his pink hair out of his face.

The sailor looks up at him, sniffling weakly.

“Has Wars ever told you about Cia?” He asks quietly. Gets a shake of the head.

He wasn’t supposed to know, but he was on watch one night when Wars had snapped awake and slipped right into a panic attack.

And his friend has just broken down afterwards and told him everything.

“She’s powerful. Very powerful. He almost died fighting her- a few times, not even just once. She’s a crazy powerful sorcerer- so powerful that Ganon corrupted her and brought her to his side. Ganon himself wanted her on his side, Wind. Wars is scared shitless by her- he just wanted to protect you. Make sure you didn’t get hurt any more. That’s why he went with her. Not because you aren’t strong, but because she is. Wars knows this. And Wars wanted to give you the best chance you had of defeating her. You understand me?”

Wind nods slowly.

Sniffles again.

“And you’re helping him the best you can like this. Finding us, healing up, and so we can all go find him together and bust him out. Because if you’d gone after them like that, with a concussion and broken arm, you’d have less chance of defeating her, right? But with eight of us, we have a much better chance. You did the right thing. I know it was hard, but the easy thing isn’t always the right thing. In fact, it rarely is.”

Wind nods again, slowly wiping his eyes. “Thanks, Legend.” The teenager sniffles.

“Anytime, kid. Now eat something- goddess knows you could stand to grow a little more.” He can’t help but to snark a little bit after the display of care he’d shown.

Wind only gives a weak laugh. “I’m almost taller than you.”

“Almost doesn’t mean you are.” He taunts, happy to see the kid smile.

“I’m taller than Four!”

“Saying you’re taller than Four is like saying you’re taller than a block of cheese- it’s not impressive. Everyone should be.”

“Hey.” Four mutters, glancing over at them. But he’s smiling.

And so is Wind.

The sailor takes a deep breath, wiping his eyes again and nodding. “We’re gonna get him back.” He smiles. “You know it.” “I have dibs on kicking her ass, though.”

Twi laughs from beside them, shaking his head. “You’ll have to get in line for that one, sailor. I’ll bet Wars wants the first kick.”

Wind takes another deep breath, smiling. “But I want the second.” Laughter fills the quiet night, and Wind stands and slowly gets ready to turn in for the night.

Gives them each a hug around the cast on his arm, even letting Twi ruffle his hair.

“Sleep well, Sailor.” He says quietly when Wind’s arms wrap around him, and he gets a nod into his shoulder.

“G’night, Legend.” Wind says softly.

A few minutes later, when he back at the sailor, he’s already fast asleep.

~~~~

#whumptober2023 #no. 6 #made to watch #it shouldve been me #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu sky #wind lu #lu wind #wind linked universe #linked universe wind #fanfic #linked universe fanfic

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omgiamwish · 2 years

Text

Whumptober 2022 Day 9 - Caught in a Storm

Fic on Ao3 and below the cut!

A/N: this takes place 2 or 3 years before the start of the show

In retrospect, Donnie can admit that they probably should have gone home the moment the first rain drop splattered on Mikey’s beak. The forecast had called for thunderstorms, after all. And Donnie himself had suggested erring on the side of caution and staying inside, only agreeing to go out when Leo and Raph called him chicken.

But alas, they had all become caught up in their glorious game of rooftop tag, demonstrating amazing feats of endurance and agility, and- most importantly- teaming up against Leo. What was a little rain in the face of that?

The flash of lightning lighting up the city didn’t snap them out of their focus on the game, but the subsequent earsplitting crash of thunder certainly did.

Raph tripped and yelped. Mikey shrieked, flinging himself onto Leo. Whether because of Mikey’s weight or his own surprise, Leo slipped and fell on his shell.

Considering Donnie was the only one who didn’t end up on the ground, he feels justified in saying he had the most dignified reaction, regardless of whatever sound may or may not have come out of his mouth.

“Well, gentlemen,” he addressed the dum-dums who thought going outside in late fall with a thunderstorm on the horizon was a good idea, “shall we go inside now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raph agreed, pushing himself up. “Let’s go home.”

The rain picked up as they raced back across the rooftops, soon turning into a downpour. They’d all been rather wet already when they stopped their game, but they’d all been soaked long before they reached the manhole closest to their home.

Donnie wasn’t particularly fond of the wet fabric of his mask and hoodie sticking to his face and arms, and he was looking forward to stripping everything off and cocooning himself in some nice, dry blankets on his bed. Maybe rigging up a heat lamp if he had the energy for it.

Leo went to jump down into the alleyway when they finally got to the right manhole, but Raph held him back with a hand on his shoulder.

“Uh, guys? I don’t think we should go down there.”

“Wait, what? Why?” Leo questioned, clearly annoyed. “C’mon Raph, it’s freezing out here. Let’s go already.”

“Freezing temperatures would actually produce snow, not rain, and the forecast said-”

“Not now, Donnie!”

Donnie scowled and adjusted his hood. Another loud boom of thunder had Mikey latching onto his side with a squeak.

“We can’t go in the sewers when it’s rainin’ this hard,” Raph explained.

“Yeah? Why not?” Leo challenged.

“Cuz Pops said it’s dangerous.”

“And you’re only saying this now? We came all this way when we could have been looking for shelter instead?”

“Raph didn’t remember ’til now! And you can’t blame Raph for not rememberin’ when you didn’t remember at all. Pops told all of us!”

Donnie had begun half-consciously patting Mikey’s hand, but he realized at that point that it was colder than it should be and that Mikey might be shivering from more than just fear. While Leo and Raph continued arguing, Donnie unzipped his hoodie and guided Mikey under it as much as he could. It wasn’t much protection from the cold, and any protection from the rain was probably moot when they were both already soaked, but it had to be better than nothing.

“Because it’s dangerous, and because I said so!” Raph yelled as more lightning flashed, thunder cracking a moment later. “Now unless you got any useful ideas-”

“Hey, just a thought,” Donnie piped up. “But how about getting under shelter? Literally any shelter. A parking garage, an awning… I will settle for a tree at this point. Just saying.”

Anyway, that’s how they ended up at Mikey’s second-favorite playground- the one with the tube slide and larger fort (apparently the first-favorite has superior swings, taller monkey bars, and cuter rocking animals). Halfway there, Mikey gave up on walking and demanded Raph carry him. Donnie- also tired of walking- wished he could be carried too, but he didn’t want to seem like a little kid. Maybe he should look into some upgrades for his battle shell…

As soon as they got to the park, Leo scrambled up into the tube slide, presumably to sulk. Raph sighed, dragging a hand over his face.

“How long is it s’posed to rain again?”

Donnie checked his phone. “Maybe another hour? The water levels in the sewers might not go down for awhile, though.”

Raph tapped his fingers against Mikey’s hoodie-covered shell. “Do you think Dad will be worried about us?”

“Do you think he’ll even notice we’re gone?” Donnie countered tiredly.

Raph shifted uncomfortably. After a few seconds, he looked over to the wooden fort. “I guess I’ll go sit under there. I wouldn’t really fit anywhere else.”

Donnie looked at the wet wood chips and dirt and shuddered at the thought of having to sit there for even a moment, let alone hours. “You know what, bud? You have fun- I’m gonna go sit in the rocket.”

He turned to do exactly that, but Raph’s hand caught his wrist. “Wait.” He worried his lip, looked conflicted. “It’s drier in there, right?”

“It should be,” Donnie confirmed. “Definitely less windy.”

Raph nodded to himself. “Right. You should take Mikey with you then. I think he’s gettin’ a fever.”

Raph transferred Mikey to Donnie’s arms. Donnie looked down at his sleeping brother then up at Raph. “You’ll be okay?”

Raph smiled reassuringly. “Yeah. I know where you all are.”

Donnie nodded. That was that, then.

‘The rocket’ was part of the fort and was probably meant to be a tower or something. However- in Donnie’s expert opinion- whoever built it shouldn’t have given it a pointed roof and a spinable steering wheel at the top of the stairs if they didn’t want kids who grew up on Jupiter Jim movies to call it a rocket.

Donnie ducked his head and shuffled through the small bit of tunnel and up the three steps that led to the bottom entrance of the rocket. He swept some stray wood chips away with his foot and set Mikey down, careful not to jostle him.

He felt Mikey’s forehead, but he couldn’t tell if Raph was right and Mikey had a fever, or if his own hands were just cold. Taking off his own mask to feel his forehead didn’t bring any more clarity on the subject.

Donnie sighed. There wasn’t much he could do about it anyway. They weren’t at home; they didn’t have heating or blankets or hot soup. Judging by the persistent drum of rain on their wooden shelter, they wouldn’t be getting any of that any time soon.

“Donnie? I’m cold. And hungry.”

Donnie looked over and met his little brother’s eyes for a long moment before he could find anything to say. “Yeah. Yeah, me too, Michael.” Ugh, this sucked. He just wanted to get out of his stupid wet clothes and-

Actually, that was a good idea. Wet clothes plus cold equals bad.

“Hey, Mikey. Take off your hoodie,” Donnie ordered, already shrugging his own off. “And, uh, any other wet clothes I guess. I’ll go wring them out.”

Mikey blinked in confusion but didn’t question it. He fumbled off his hoodie, kneepads, and mask and handed them over.

Donnie took their pile of clothes into the wooden tunnel and set about wringing them as dry as possible. It was somewhat relaxing, at least- getting to squeeze something and feel the water well up between his fingers, hearing it splatter on the ground.

He regathered the now-damp-instead-of-sopping clothes and stood up, careful to stay hunched. Unfortunately, his care was ruined by a blast of thunder loud enough to shake the walls around him.

Even in a place built for people older than ten, Donnie probably would have jumped high enough to hit his head on the ceiling. As it was, he hit his head hard enough that he would likely have a bump for at least a day or two. Dad says they heal fast, and that seemed to be true compared to April, but ow! Pizza Supreme, that hurt!

“Donnnnieeee!” Mikey wailed and Donnie barely refrained from cursing (he would not be the one to teach Mikey those words- he had twenty bucks riding on it).

“Yeah, I’m coming, Mikey,” he called back. He touched his head gently, checking for blood. His hand looked clean under the light of his phone, so he put it away and hurried back.

As he entered the rocket, Mikey tackled him with another wail.

“Uncomfortable! With! Hugging!” Donnie gritted out. But as Mikey continued to cling, Donnie resigned himself to it. “I suppose sharing body heat is the recommended course of action for this situation.”

“Good. Because I’m not letting go,” Mikey sniffled.

Donnie sighed and shuffled over to a spot where he could sit down and stretch out his legs. He really couldn’t wait to go home.

#whumptober2022 #no.9 #caught in a storm #rottmnt #art #fic #tmnt #tmnt 2018 #donatello #michelangelo #raphael #leonardo #fan art #artists on tumblr #fanfic

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inscrutable-shadow · 5 months

Text

only then i am human (only then i am clean) - part one

contains: mild horniness, homoerotic blood drinking, minor nausea (no vomiting), swearing, gore, a disgusting amount of gay pining, whumptober 2023 days 11, 20, and 30 (animal trap, "you will regret touching them," bridal carry)

summary: The Culling War is over, and Thanatos is not the same.

Mariano doesn't have a same to go back to.

Bastian just hopes that he won't have to kill Thanatos when the vampire's ravenous hunger finally takes over.

It's been far too long since Thanatos has had a good meal, after all, and he loves getting himself in hot water.

beginning notes: whoo-wee! i started this as a whumptober fill, and it still is that, but it’s also so, so much more than that now. four times the size and now part of a series i hope to continue in the coming months. so many thanks to @crash-bump-bring-the-whump for letting me borrow his characters, fill his dms with screaming and gay shenanigans at all hours, and for betaing! i have so much more planned for our boys after this so stay tuned :)

also available on ao3! even though i've broken the fic into two, this section is 7.3k words so you might enjoy it more there. (plus you get the ending a day early)

Thanatos was rather surprised at how much fun he was having. When Madame Nocta had initially shown him his redistricting papers, he’d had to step out of the room to stop the choking panic from clawing at his insides. The image of his old life, of returning to his job and his apartment and his lover after so long away, had been the only thing keeping him going for so long that the idea of changing that image made him sick. “It’ll be quiet,” she’d assured him. “No one will know what you are. You can relax, recover. It will be good for you.” Thanatos hadn’t believed her, but now, as the damp wind ruffled his hair and sent ripples over the nearby lake, he was forced to admit this world was rather quaint.

He could almost convince himself it was just like home, at least, before the “engine of progress” had compressed every ounce of magic from the land. The countryside was littered with small villages of wood and stone instead of towering metropoles of metal and glass. The air held none of the heavy odour of burning oil; if anything, it crackled and pulsed with magic in the way the ancient forests had when the fae still inhabited them. If it weren’t for the various ruins that evoked to those in the know the aura of an advanced society, he would have believed it was the ninth century again. Wandering from place to place, offering his eyes, his voice, and his stories to anyone who could use him in exchange for a few coins, and flirting with people in taverns, it was quite akin to the way he’d lived before he’d met the Archfey. One could almost call it idyllic.

“Hey, Thanatos! There you are,” a voice called from behind him, and he turned to see Bastian pushing through the market crowd toward him. “Thought I’d lost you for a bit. Crowd too much for you?”

There was one major difference between this world and his own, and here was a prime example of it: one could tell just by looking that Bastian was a dragon. If the prismatic hair and the horns weren’t a dead giveaway, the shimmering scales certainly were. He wasn’t the only one, either. A vampire blended right in among the varying peoples of this world, and Thanatos didn’t even bother to wear the glasses that obscured his eye color and slitted pupils anymore. He still became rather on edge in the market crowds, but even that he was doing much better with than he had a month ago. He’d been able to drift from stall to stall with the crowd for almost an hour before he’d felt claustrophobic.

Thanatos nodded acknowledgement of Bastian’s presence and alighted from the fencepost. “I just needed some air. Find everything you wanted?” If he recalled correctly, they were supposed to be replenishing supplies after an unfortunate encounter with a river (that had not at all been Thanatos’s fault).

Bastian only shrugged. “He’s the one shopping. Weather’s turning. Ought to get back together with Mariano and head out before it gets too bright for you.”

The sun here burned much brighter than Thanatos was used to, and even cloudy days pricked uncomfortably at his skin. The locals had been kind to him, though, and no one had hesitated to offer him shelter or clothing or food that he inevitably had to refuse. The hat that he was wearing and had reinforced with a layer of Shadow had been forced upon him by a kindly old woman who had noticed his discomfort while he was carrying her shopping for her on a not-so-cloudy afternoon. She couldn’t have known that his refusal to put a square millimetre of exposed skin in direct sunlight was an aversion to screaming immolation and subsequent death, but she’d pushed her hat onto his head anyway, and called him a sweet young man who needed to take better care of himself. That sort of behaviour had by far been the norm, and for that, he was grateful.

“That little basket all you’re getting?” Bastian asked, edging a hand under the fabric cover, but pulling it back when Thanatos swatted at it.

“The two of you have been very kind. I thought that perhaps I could repay the favour by taking care of dinner for tonight.” It had been a long while since he’d had to cook anything, but he still remembered some of the things his mother had taught him, oh so long ago, and he felt the need to provide something other than diverting conversation for once.

Bastian walked ahead of him in the crowd, forging a less constricted path for Thanatos to follow as the pair threaded their way back to the meeting point. “You don’t even eat. How’re you gonna know if it’s any good?”

“I’ll just have to have you taste for me.”

“Sure thing.” The dragon grinned in that toothy way of his, and Thanatos allowed himself a small one in return.

He’d come out to the two of them during the second week. Not about his taste for men: the reality of that oozed from his pores and was apparent in every movement. The wistful stares he threw at every young man who looked even a bit like the Archfey left little room for doubt. About his taste for blood. Thanatos had violated Clandestine Accord and clued two mortals in on the fact that he was a vampire. It hadn’t phased them at all. There were very few things that could rattle Mariano, and Bastian was a dragon. A vampire wasn’t a threat, and so he didn’t care. Thanatos had felt silly for even being slightly anxious about it. The way they looked at each other, talked to each other, to him, he just knew. They’d felt safe. Thanatos hadn’t felt safe in decades. Not since the Culling War.

Twenty-five years of paranoia had turned an easygoing, charismatic Thanatos into a nervous wreck of a man who jumped at every shadow. He’d heard Tenebrus and the Council talking about him: the psychological effects of his job had made him nearly useless at it, and they were planning to replace him. The war had ended before they had the chance, but still. He knew he wasn’t the same man his Archfey had fallen in love with. That thought alone made him want to shatter into a thousand porcelain fragments, but living here had started to fill in the jagged gouges the war had left on his soul. The people were kinder, didn’t treat him like a monster even when they couldn’t know he was one. (Not like home. On Earth Four, even the slightest deviation from the norm had put him at risk of discovery.) He wasn’t constantly on the defensive anymore.

The crowd opened up a bit, and he could now see slightly further ahead. Ah, there was Mariano. His dark hair rose up above most of the bobbing heads of the market-goers, and the soft lines of his face were broken slightly by a brow furrowed in concentration. Comparing products, perhaps? He’s rather particular about the supplies. He was still deep in discussion with a shopkeeper, though from the amount he was carrying, it seemed as if he must be nearly done with his shopping. “I’ll be right back, found something I want to pick up,” Bastian leaned down to whisper in his ear, melting into the crowd again before Thanatos could even respond. He felt a bit nervous in the crowd by himself, but he could see Mariano, at least, and the hat would probably make him easy enough to find again. He found a quiet spot between two stalls, where he was offered a seat and an apple by an old woman selling fruit. With a smile, he accepted the former, but of course not the latter.

The market had been set up in the hollow shell of some ancient building, and most of the shops on this side of the square were peddling foodstuffs of some kind, set up on the raised ground on either side of the makeshift thoroughfare created by the terrain. This particular ruin gave Thanatos the nagging sensation that he was late to catch a train. He supposed it’d be a long time before he saw another train, given his reassignment. It would have been strange to go back to his Earth after a quarter-century of war, anyhow, let alone live in the cottage without the Archfey. He wasn’t even sure he knew how to fit himself back into a fast-paced mortal society now that he’d had the fear of other people forcibly drilled into him. There hadn’t been a moment in the last decade or so when he hadn’t been acutely wary of other vampires out to give him a glowing recommendation to the nearest Reaper. Relax, Than. There aren’t any other vampires in this area, he reminded himself. He had a hundred miles of clearance before he encroached on anyone else’s hunting grounds. Anyone who wanted to mess with him would have Mariano to contend with, anyhow. No one had got through him yet.

“Do you like it?”

“Hm?”

The laugh was like birdsong, and it came from a girl, about nineteen, behind the fruit stand, helping the old woman set out more goods. “You were staring, mister. Do you like the hairpin? My mother made it for me.” Like most of the denizens here, her skin was a deep ochre, with matching eyes that held a mischievous smile and an effortless charm.

He had been staring; he realised. The pin was an array of jasmine-like blooms on a fastening of ebony and amethyst. It looked like something the Archfey would have worn, not in the early days of their relationship when they’d been doing the courtship dance of fey prince and vampire, no, this was something ae would have worn to a coffeehouse date or to the cinema, a coy reminder of the power that lurked behind the mortal disguise. Thanatos summoned up a smile and gave a wry chuckle, hoping his expression didn’t seem tortured. “You remind me of someone, that’s all.” Oh. It was easier than he’d expected to become the charming vampire once again. Maybe he really was getting better.

The girl returned his smile. “Someone you like?” She turned away a little, then met his eyes again.

“Someone I love.”

The grief must have shown through in his eyes for a moment, because the girl’s smile turned sad. “What happened to them?”

He hesitated, deciding how much of his pain was worth pouring out to a stranger. “Gone. Said they would return, but, well. I’ve had to move, and I fear we may never be reunited.” His gaze drifted away toward the shifting clouds. Bastian was right. The weather would clear up soon.

“Take it then,” she said, and his brow furrowed as his eyes returned to look at her. She took his hand in hers and pressed the pin into it. “My mother made it as a good-luck charm. Maybe it will bring the two of you back together.”

Why would she give something like that to a stranger? Part of him wondered if it might be some sort of trap, but he pushed the thought away. Humans weren’t like vampires. Every gesture of goodwill wasn’t a secret power play with them. Sometimes they did these things on a whim, or even out of kindness. It was a foolish thing for her to do, though, so he demurred. “Oh, miss, I couldn’t possibly take such a precious heirloom—”

“Surely you won’t refuse a gift,” she countered, and the expression of mischief on her face melted the last of the ice in his heart. Maybe things truly were looking up.

Thanatos bowed. “Then I shall graciously accept. However,” he added, setting his basket down for a moment, “allow me to return the favour. A charm for a charm. My partner gave this to me a long time ago. It, too, is good luck. May it bring you winds of fortune.” He removed the earring from his right ear, a dangle shaped vaguely like a wreath. In truth, it was a ritual sigil, one of the Archfey’s smallest and subtlest protection blessings. Woven directly from aer magic into metal, he’d worn it for almost two hundred years, and he credited his continued existence a significant amount to the Archfey’s protection rather than any qualities he himself possessed. For a moment, he questioned why he would give away something so precious on a whim, but the girl’s gift had struck a chord with him, made him feel as if the dark days might be over. That was worth the loss of the charm.

The young woman accepted the earring and worked into her own ear, and the two of them shared a smile, and a laugh, and a blush. One couldn’t fault Thanatos for finding comfort in the sweet moment, but of course, the universe saw fit to punish him for allowing himself to relax. “The fuck you think you’re doing, dipshit?” a gruff voice called from behind him. And here we go.

He went for his usual disarming smile. “Ah, you must be the boyfriend.”

“Fiancé,” the young lady corrected mildly. Of course he was.

The fiancé in question wasted no time in invading Thanatos’s personal space. “You gotta be stupid to chat up another man’s girl like that.” He folded his arms, probably trying to look intimidating. It was sort of working.

Thanatos’s eyebrows raised. “If that’s what you think flirting looks like, my condolences to your lady-love. I was nothing more than cordial. Aren’t you just the strapping young man though,” he purred. “I cannot fault the lady’s taste.” Now that was flirting. The tried-and-true Thanatos method of getting out of this sort of tight spot was to play up his flamboyance until their discomfort outweighed their indignation. “Baffle them with his bullshit,” as it were. It usually worked long enough for him to work out some method of escape.

“Leave it, Javier. He’s not bothering me. We were just talking,” the girl said, annoyed.

Javier was not dissuaded. “I don’t want random guys feeling like they can talk to you, Violetta. And that didn’t look like talking.”

Thanatos saw this as a chance to cut back in. “I assure you, I have no interest in absconding with your sweetheart. My intentions with her were purely platonic, for my tastes lie elsewhere, if you take my meaning.”

From the way Javier picked him up by his collar, Thanatos got the idea that he might not have understood some of those words. “Are you saying you don’t think she’s pretty? Take it back right now!”

Oh, by the celestial river… Annoyance ignited in Thanatos’s chest, and he was firing back before he could think about it. “I didn’t say she wasn’t pretty, you oaf. I said I was fucking gay! By the Divines, humans grow ever more stupid. I’m married too, if it matters—”

“Is there a problem here?” Oh, thank fuck. Mariano, his knight in shining armour once again. Part of him orchestrated these scenarios intentionally just to have a chance to see the mage work. Bastian was hanging back, presumably to watch the show. He gave Thanatos a little wave and a grin and appeared to have found himself some sort of drink. Typical Bastian.

Javier looked Mariano up and down. Tall and broad, the dark-skinned mage certainly carried his share of scars, from the clearly deliberate burns on his arms to the blade-mark under his jawline. Thanatos thought it added charm to the soft lines of Mariano’s face, especially when he smiled, which was often if Thanatos had anything to do with it. He was not smiling now. Mariano’s default expression was blank, unreadable, which combined with the silver-white pact rings around his dark irises and his subtle but not-insignificant musculature lent him quite the imposing air. Even behind the dark-rimmed glasses, it was clear that Mariano was not a man to be trifled with.

Undeterred, likely due to a lack of basic survival instinct, Javier pressed on. “Sure is. Your friend here’s about to eat shit for fucking with my girl. Unless you’d like to eat it for him?” Now, that was borderline suicidal. If he hadn’t known Mariano as well as he did, Thanatos would have expected a bloodbath.

Mariano looked up at Thanatos, still dangling in the air with an expression that read “I’m sorry, please save me again.” He didn’t speak, just removed his casting dagger from his belt, held it up, and ignited the blade, his war mage’s magic shooting up through the hilt and heating the metal until it glowed. A single eyebrow shifted, challenging Javier to try him.

“You really don’t want to fight him,” Thanatos supplied, helpfully.

Javier looked as if he might try it anyway, but Violetta read the situation correctly. Smart girl. “Let’s just go, Javier. I’m fine, it’s not worth it!” she implored, pulling on his arm.

A moment’s hesitation, then the brute relented. “Whatever,” he spat, and threw Thanatos down. The vampire sat down hard in the dirt, hat askew, but that was better than having his neck wrung on what had otherwise been a fairly pleasant afternoon. His basket was down here too, fortunately undamaged. “Let’s go, Violetta.” Javier stalked off, pushing through the crowd.

Thanatos let out a heavy sigh of relief. He took the hand Mariano stretched down toward him and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. “You okay?” Mariano asked, observing his slanted hat and open collar. Thanatos felt the heat rising in his face.

He cleared his throat. “Quite all right, thanks to you, once again. Just in time, too.” He had to stop doing this. As entertaining as it was to be rescued time and time again, the risk to his person was too high. Mariano might save him, but not necessarily before he was seriously damaged.

“You have to stop doing this, I’m not always going to show up right when you need me, you know.” Mariano picked up the basket from the ground and handed it to Thanatos, who suddenly thought he might repeat the whole procedure again tomorrow.

“Oh, but you do it so well! The spectacle, the cinema! You play quite the dashing hero,” he enthused, attempting to distract from how hot he suddenly felt under his silk shirt.

Mariano looked away, probably looking for his dragon in the crowd. It was difficult to tell with Mariano, but Thanatos got the idea he might have said something wrong. Fortunately for him, Bastian returned, amused as usual. “Thought you were going to teach him a lesson. Too bad you let him get away.”

“Wasn’t worth it.” Mariano shrugged. “He was just a blowhard, and I’m sure Than started it, anyway.” He accepted his bag back from Bastian and instinctively sorted through it, as was his habit.

“I’m sure I resent that remark!” Thanatos spluttered, but before he could really get going with his retort, Violetta pushed her way back through the crowd toward them.

“I’m sorry about him. You didn’t deserve that. I should go, but here, take this. For your friend with the pretty eyes.” She pressed a meat bun into his hand and vanished again.

Thanatos blinked in momentary confusion, then held the pastry out to Mariano, who also seemed confused. “Me?”

“I think it’s relatively clear she didn’t mean Bastian. No offense meant, of course.”

Bastian grinned. “None taken. Eat it, Mariano, looks good. If you won’t, I will.”

“But your eyes-” Mariano began, meaning Thanatos’s crimson ones rather than Bastian’s white-silver.

“Oh? Taken your fancy, have they?” It came out more flirtatious than he’d intended, he was having trouble shaking off the performance. “Alluring as they may be, I already have a gift from the lady, and I can’t eat it anyhow. Take the bread and the compliment, mortal mage.” One would have to be blind to fail to acknowledge that Mariano was attractive, in Thanatos’s opinion, but Mariano didn’t seem to process it the same way.

“I- okay.” He didn’t seem convinced, but he always looked like that.

Better to just distract him, then. “Good show, Mariano. Another innocent man rescued, another reward earned. Let’s move on before I am reduced to ash, eh?” That was something he was actually worried about, not just a diversionary tactic. The clouds were moving uncomfortably quickly, hurried on by the wind.

“Wouldn’t want to have to scoop him up off of the ground. That’d take ages,” Bastian joked. Mariano laughed, and all was right with the world again.

As Bastian had predicted, the sky was nearly clear when the sun finally slipped below the horizon. The particular corner of the glade where they had built the fire was sufficiently shaded for Thanatos not to have to focus on protecting himself from the light. Not that he had much else to do than leaf through his well-worn copy of Theogonia, which had managed to survive the war tucked into a corner of his briefcase. He didn’t need to read the pages anymore, so many times had he been over these same words in the two thousand years since this particular edition had been published, but turning the leaves and skimming the familiar passages was of comfort to him, a habit he’d developed to unwind after a long day. The woods were quiet except for the soft chirping of insects and the scrape of Mariano’s knife against the whetstone.

“Is it done yet?” This was the fourth time Bastian had asked in the last hour. Thanatos didn’t blame him. The tantalising aroma of slow-cooked meat rising from the stew pot filled the air and stimulated the appetite. His sense of smell had shifted since becoming a vampire, but if one thing had remained the same, the scent still took him back to his childhood, helping his mother by the stove.

“Not quite.” Thanatos gave the pot a stir and tested the meat with the spoon. “About ten more minutes.”

Bastian groaned. “That’s what you said ten minutes ago.”

“No, ten minutes ago I said twenty minutes.”

“Fifteen,” said Mariano, inspecting the blade’s edge in the firelight.

“Hm?” It was the first time Mariano had spoken in an hour or so. Thanatos hadn’t even known he was listening.

The scraping resumed. “You said fifteen minutes. Ten minutes ago.”

“Did I?” Thanatos couldn’t recall, but if Mariano thought so, it must be true.

“Yeah.” There was a beat of silence, and then the rustle of a page and the scrape of the whetstone.

The pot simmered happily despite Bastian’s impatient scrutiny. “Can’t we just eat it now?”

Mariano laughed. “I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait, Bastian. We can’t all eat raw meat, you know. Though maybe next time pick something that doesn’t take as long, Than.”

Thanatos gave a snort of mock-indignation. “Genius cannot be rushed, mortal mage. This is an heirloom recipe passed down to me by my mother.” They’d had servants to cook for them, of course. A magistrate’s wife would never have been expected to do that sort of thing, but Thanatos’s mother had loved every part of the process from selecting ingredients to serving. She’d taught him to cut vegetables and to know when meat was tender. It was incredibly rare for him to need to use those skills, but his hands knew what to do. In a way, it was as if his mother was still alive.

True to his estimate, the stew was ready in about ten minutes. Bastian would have been happy to eat the meat before it was cooked, and if Thanatos was careful, he could sip at the tomato base without making himself ill, but it was Mariano’s opinion that mattered.

Fortunately, the mage’s first spoonful earned a smile. “It’s good!”

Thanatos sighed with relief. “I’m glad you find it so. It’s been quite a few years since I’ve had the occasion to cook, you understand.”

“It doesn’t show. It’s just too bad you can’t taste it,” Mariano said, attacking another spoonful. That dispelled the last of Thanatos’s worries that he was just saying it to be nice. Even if that would have been out of character for someone so straightforward, the apprehension was habitual.

“Oh, I remember it well enough. Enjoy it in my stead.”

“Doesn’t it make you hungry, watching other people eat?” Bastian mused, though most of his attention was caught up in finding more bits of tender meat to fish out of the stew, which Thanatos took as a victory.

He shrugged. “Mortal food is, at best, unappetizing to me at this point. My senses of taste and smell are so altered that it doesn’t register to my mind as consumable.” He was hungry, though, he realised. It had been three days since he’d eaten last: though he’d gone out yesterday and the day before, he’d been unlucky and had found no one else wandering the wilds.

House Iuventae contracts rarely came with non-sapient sustenance clauses. The Shadow could tell the difference, and if Thanatos tried to cheat, it would punish him for it with days of nausea and cramps. It was for that reason that he preferred to eat every other day if he could. A human could survive a litre of blood loss much more easily than two or three. It looked as if he’d actually have to kill today if he didn’t want to lose control of himself later, though. He’d made peace with the concept millennia ago — or so he told himself, but drinking only prepared blood during the war had brought back a vague discomfort. Prudence told him to avoid specific details when discussing it with the others, regardless. He didn’t want to know what they’d truly think of him.

Oblivious to Thanatos’s introspection, Bastian had come up with a theory of his own. “But if you dried it out or whatever, made it into flour, couldn’t you make, say, blood bread or some shit like that?”

“Well, yes, actually. House Nocta does extensive research on alternative ways to prepare blood. Whether it’s edible depends on one’s specific contract. I have a special provision that allows me to consume most liquids, but anything solid makes me ill, blood-based or otherwise.” He didn’t regret it. He was happy to never taste cake again in exchange for still being able to drink wine. The stew he was sipping at was still rather flavourless, though.

“It’s so interesting that your people have found different ways to work with your condition,” said Mariano.

Was it? Thanatos had never thought so. “Necessity is the mother of invention. But enough about vampires. Shall I read you out a story tonight?”

This got Bastian’s attention. “Do the one with the king and the wild man. I like that one.”

“Ah, yes, the epic of Gilgamesh.” He didn’t have a copy of that one in his carpetbag, but he could do the first hour or so from memory, and pick up the book from the Archfey’s later if he needed it. (If he could bear it. The sight of the empty house had made him feel hollow the last time he’d been.) He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and when next he opened them, his voice had changed to that of the orator. “This is one of the oldest stories in the world, about two thousand years older than me, even. Translated from the tablets of an ancient civilization, large segments of the story are missing, but what we do have tells the story of a mighty king and his quest to discover the secret of immortality. Let me tell you of a man who had seen everything, whom the god Anu had granted all knowledge, who had seen secrets and hidden things, even from the time before the Flood.”

As usual, his audience was rapt, caught up by his words and taken to a time five millennia in the past, when giants walked the earth. He’d go hunting later in the evening, once the magic of ancient fable faded to that of the sandman’s sleep.

Thanatos leaned against a tree and tied his hair up into a low ponytail. He’d left his travelling jacket back at the camp as well, leaving him in just his silk shirt, tie, and trousers. The less restricted his movement was, the better, and it had the benefit of making him look younger and less careworn. He hated this, really. When he talked and laughed with Mariano and Bastian, he could pretend that he was perfectly ordinary, still fully human, but when he hunted, it was clear that he was anything but. He wasn’t even an ambush predator like Tenebrus or most other hunting vampires, the sharpening of his senses and the way his night vision flattened everything into shades of grey save for outlines of delicious scarlet around everything with a heartbeat was of little use to him. All it did was remind him how little humanity was left in him.

In his element, Thanatos was a honey trap, an attractive, confident, charismatic man whom others would gladly follow into a dark alley for a tryst — with perhaps a little hypnotic encouragement. It fit his personality quite well, and he’d been able to carve a niche out for himself in both vampiric society and back on Earth Four. He was the very picture of a Iuventus, a man of words taken with alcohol and sex and other pleasures of the flesh. Or at least he had been. Before everything. He wanted very badly to return to feeling like that man. (If he thought about it too hard, he’d realise that luring people into the night to be devoured was also rather monstrous, so he didn’t.)

Right now, his priority was to return to the village and civilization. He was still getting back into the rhythm of pursuing prey, hunting instead of being hunted. It felt good to be out at night instead of having to worry about the sun surprising him. He decided to just try to enjoy the sense of freedom. Moving at a vampire’s speed, the wind singing through his hair, the moonlight lightly caressing his skin. All the horrors of the war: the daily grind of waking up, infiltrating a location, and running away that made him feel as if the dust and grime of the road soaked into his soul. That was all behind him now. He was an ordinary vampire now, without obligations or debts, free to eat and sleep and do whatever else his heart desired.

He really should have learned his lesson from earlier in the day. Stay on your toes, don’t stop to enjoy things. Don’t dare believe you’re out of the woods. You developed that paranoia for a reason. It was his own fault he was now lying on his back on the forest floor, his ankle held fast by a metal cord. One moment, he’d been darting through the trees trying to cover distance, and the next his head had hit a tree root and sent stars exploding behind his eyes. How long had he been unconscious? Ten seconds or ten minutes?

The impact alone might have killed a mortal, but Thanatos was merely concussed. Confusedly, he tried to pull his ankle free, and only succeeded in tightening the cable around the unfortunate limb. He would leave this part out whenever he told the story afterward, but in truth, he panicked. The idea of being trapped again, being captured again, was too much for him. His nails scrabbled for purchase in the soft loam, fighting to take him somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t here. His vision tinted red, his own too-loud heartbeat overwhelming his heightened senses. It felt as if it were another person who was thrashing and kicking, desperately trying to get away and only tightening the wire until it cut down to the bone.

He flinched at the snap of a branch, close, too close. “Well, well. Look what I got here. You ain’t a cougar, are you, buddy?” The voice was rough and belonged to a banjo-string sort of man now crouching three metres away.

This should have been his salvation. If Thanatos had been in his right mind, he would have turned on the charm and begged this man for help. But no. He’d been hungry too long; his Shadow was too close to the surface, converting his stress response from fawn to flight. He didn’t even know what small indication he must have picked up on, or perhaps he truly was the animal for which the trap had been originally purposed — but before he knew it, he’d drawn back toward the tree, hissing and baring his fangs.

The man only grinned. “Who-wee, ain’t you a feisty one? Hold on, red eyes, dark hair… You’re the fucker Javier was tellin’ us about, tryin’ to muscle up on his girl. Oh, he’s gonna love this. What kind of freak are you, anyway, with teeth like that?” Oh, fucking fantastic. They’d set him up on a world where people didn’t believe in vampires, and here he was screwing it up. “Eh, doesn’t matter. Wait ’til I get Javier and the guys. It’s gonna be a riot! Not like you have much of a choice but to sit, though, huh?” The man laughed cruelly and wandered off.

Alone again. Thanatos was used to how this sort of thing went by now. The hunter would come back with a group of men, and they would kick Thanatos around until they were tired of him, and then they would probably “kill” him and dump his body somewhere. He’d wait until they left and drag himself off to lick his wounds. It would be tolerable. He would just have to endure.

Mariano was pacing again. Bastian watched him for a few minutes, hoping he would come back to bed, but eventually gave up. “Something on your mind?”

“Than’s not back yet.” Bastian had to admit that was strange. Thanatos had never been gone for over four hours before. He’d usually slip away an hour or two after dusk and return just after midnight, blood-drunk and stifling hiccups. He should have been back three hours ago.

“You want to go after him?” Mariano nodded. Bastian had already got to his feet. He knew Mariano well enough by now to know he couldn’t just stand by. “It’s a lot of ground to cover. What if we don’t find him?”

“He probably went back to the village. We can start that way and fan out if we need to. It’s all well and good if he comes back on his own, but if he’s in trouble…” Mariano trailed off, his pensive gaze wandering toward the forest and taking his feet with it.

Bastian doused the fire and moved to catch up. “I’m sure he just fell asleep somewhere,” he commented, but knew as soon as the words were spoken that they were false. Than didn’t sleep anywhere he didn’t feel safe, and definitely not by accident. When they’d first met, the two of them had spent three days in a stalemate waiting for the other to fall asleep first. It had become clear by then that Thanatos wasn’t even slightly a threat, but Bastian had had to be the one to give up on the whole thing. Than hadn’t seemed like he could, even if he’d wanted to. Even utter exhaustion couldn’t convince his body to rest if it wasn’t safe.

No, it was much more likely that he’d managed to get himself into a situation he couldn’t get himself out of. At this point, it happened so often that Bastian wondered if Thanatos did it on purpose just to enjoy the privilege of having Mariano rescue him. Not that he could blame him. Mariano took on the “knight in shining armour” role quite handsomely, all shining blade and “put him down” and “let him go.” If the mage didn’t have such a tendency to hurt himself while taking care of others, it might have been worth trying himself, but he’d seen what lengths Mariano would push himself to in order to save him. If the idiot got himself killed, it’d be much less fun.

Tracking Thanatos wasn’t difficult. The vampire didn’t have any particular abilities that lent themselves to obscure a trail. He’d been moving quickly, but not particularly quietly. They heard the commotion up ahead before they saw it: a group of about ten people, talking and yelling and throwing spears, rocks, and crossbow bolts, all centred on a tree at the edge of the clearing. The place looked like a war zone. Broken branches littered the forest floor, some splashed with dark red. Black liquid pooled in some places and flowed in others, streaming down from holes in the surrounding trees that looked like they’d been punctured with incredible force. A mass of dark hair and torn fabric, stained with blood, lay at the foot of the central tree. The same black liquid guttered weakly into a half-dome in an attempt to stop more projectiles, but couldn’t hold its shape and joined the rest of the dark splatters on the ground. Surely that wasn’t…?

Another rock bounced off of the figure’s shoulder, leaving behind a line of red that spilled down the pale skin exposed by his ruined sleeve. He shifted and some of the hair fell to the side, revealing a single scarlet eye, darting from side to side, searching for an escape. The leader of the pack, recognizable as the brute from earlier in the day, hurled another stone that struck the wounded creature across the temple. A yelp of pain rang out, but then the shape was silent.

“I think I finally got him!” Javier exclaimed. “How much do you think they’ll pay for his head?”

Mariano had already come to his conclusion. “Leave him.” Despite the lack of exclamation point, his voice was clear and cold and had an impressive volume that carried it well enough to make the rabble stop what they were doing.

Javier turned to see who had spoken. “You again? Seems like you really want trouble. Why do you care so much about this monster, anyway? All it wanted was the steal our people away in the night. I did this town a favour by exterminating it.”

“You’ll regret laying hands on him.” A statement of fact, not a threat. Mariano never threatened.

Javier snorted. “I don’t think so. Maybe I should take care of you, too, for protecting that thing. Boys!” At his command, the scattered hunters left off taking potshots at Thanatos and aimed their weapons at the new threat.

Bastian loved watching this part. Mariano fought like a wild thing, with a magic that was hungry, ruthlessly efficient and utterly without mercy. In some ways, one could say he fought like a dragon. Bastian couldn’t afford to be distracted watching his mage work, though. Rescuing Thanatos was more important, and so he refocused, his new objective heavily discouraging any of Javier’s goons from running to his aid.

Mariano let out a deep breath and put his magic away. The smell of charred flesh rose over the scent of the forest at night — more of which was Bastian’s work than his, if he was honest. “We’re all clear now, Than. Are you all right?” The figure by the tree made no sound, and Bastian threw Mariano an inquisitive glance. He elected to approach, wanting to see if that last rock had knocked the vampire unconscious.

Unconscious he was not, and the speed at which he withdrew toward the perceived safety of the tree surprised even Mariano. The curtain of his hair obscured his face, and it was a bit unsettling the way the glowing red eyes watched Mariano through the tangle, pupils narrowed into slits with none of the good humour or charm he was used to seeing in them. If the vampire weren’t wearing Thanatos’s clothes — or, rather, what was left of them — he’d almost believe it wasn’t Than he was watching at all. Thanatos’s eyes showed no recognition, only wary apprehension, as if he were waiting for Mariano to reveal threatening intent. Was he too far gone to realize who they were?

Mariano continued to approach, slowly, giving Thanatos time to track his movements. “You’re safe now,” he murmured. “It’s just me. It’s Mariano, you know me. Bastian’s here too. Let him see you, Bastian.” Bastian approached as he was told, but Thanatos backed away, which pulled taut a thin wire around his ankle. The metal had cut into his flesh to the point that white bone was visible amidst the mess of pink and red. “That hurts a lot, doesn’t it? Let us help you. We’ll get that off of you and get you somewhere we can treat it, okay?” He could only hope that their potions would work on a vampire. It didn’t look at all treatable otherwise.

Thanatos remained silent. That was the weirdest thing about it. The Thanatos Mariano knew rarely stopped talking: his presence was a constant stream of words about everything and nothing, almost as if he were afraid to stop. Right about now, he would usually apologise profusely for needing to be rescued at all and be on the verge of composing an epic ballad about their combat prowess, maybe a little worse for wear but trying hard not to show it. As Mariano approached, all he could hear were the harsh exhales forcing themselves through the vampire’s nose. That it wasn’t broken was a miracle, considering the state of the rest of his face. Thanatos did a good job of not looking like a corpse most days, but the bruising mottling his cheeks and over his eyes appeared distinctly post-mortem. Tear tracks, long dried, were visible under the blood and dirt. And yet, through it all, he looked not fearful exactly, but… vigilant. Distrustful. He hadn’t given up at all. He was just waiting to see what else he would have to endure.

Mariano tried again. “Thanatos? Bastian’s gonna get that cord off of you, okay? And then you can just come to me. We’ll take you somewhere safe.” Thanatos still didn’t seem to hear, but Bastian’s approach certainly got his attention, eliciting a growl from deep within the vampire’s chest.

“Doesn’t seem like he wants our help,” Bastian murmured, slowing, but not stopping.

“He’s just afraid.” This was a sound like a cornered animal, not like a predator, ready to fight if he had to, but wanting to avoid it. “We can’t just leave him like this. He’ll understand once the wire’s gone.” At least, he probably would. “It’s okay, Than. Come to me, you’ll be safe. You trust me, right?” Mariano could only hope Thanatos did. It certainly seemed like it, given how quickly he’d started to account for the mage in his plans. Would that trust be able to cut through whatever was going on with him?

The growl became louder as the distance between Bastian and Thanatos closed, and escalated into a hiss when he got close enough to touch the wire. It was Mariano’s turn to fill the air with words, anything to distract Thanatos long enough for Bastian to do his thing. If Than tried to run again, he’d probably make everything worse. “Eyes on me, Than, that’s it. I know you’re scared. He won’t hurt you. We’re friends. You know that. You remember us. We’re going to get you out of here, and then we’ll make your leg stop hurting.” Mariano extended a hand toward his injured friend, proving that he held no weapon and no ill intent. It was up to Thanatos to believe him, if he even could right now.

Everything happened at once. A rush of dragon fire, the twang of metal parting from metal. Thanatos lunged toward Mariano at lightning speed, covering the distance between them before Bastian could even shout a warning. White-hot pain, a burst of warm blood, wet, lips, tongue, breath, a dull thud, blackness.

part 2 up tomorrow!

taglist: @athenswrites, @albatris, @thethistlegirlwrites

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sam-loves-seb · 6 months

Note

Just a gentle nudge that if you feel inclined to post that one Whumptober fic that you gave us a sample of, I'd really love to read it. You're one of my favorite writers though so even if you don't post that one I'll be looking forward to whatever you decide to post next about our beloved Gallavich boys 🙂

oh this is so sweet, you're so kind 😭💛

see, i also would love to post that one whumptober fic but the thing is i still haven't gone back to finish writing it yet, so unfortunately i just have 3k of prison!gallavich sitting in my docs haunting me. i think maybe after the new year i'll go back to some forgotten whumptober fics/prompts and maybe it'll get written eventually, but for now i can at least drop another snippet from it under the cut:

***

The lockdown bleeds into lights out, which only makes Ian worry more.

Wherever Mickey is—he’s not coming back. Not tonight, anyways.

Ian refuses to let his mind go to the worst-case scenario. He’d know. He’d fucking know if Mickey was dead, if his body was lying somewhere without a heart beating between his ribs. Someone would have told him, probably, but he’d feel it in his gut, in the place that tugs and twists and tells him that Mickey is still alive.

Somewhere.

Ian lays in Mickey’s bunk and tries to breathe.

Maybe he’s in solitary. Maybe he mouthed off to a guard or got caught up in a fight that wasn’t even his to begin with—could be anything, really. They throw prisoners in there for less. Maybe by this time tomorrow Mickey will be back in their cell where he belongs, and Ian will laugh against his neck as Mickey retells the ridiculous story of his last twenty-four hours.

Or maybe it’s worse.

Ian doesn’t know, but he needs to. So, he lies in Mickey’s bottom bunk with his jumpsuit on, staring at the ceiling with a couple bills folded in his hand, and he waits.

He doesn’t know where Mickey gets his money in fucking prison, but he knows which hollowed out book he keeps it in, stacked at the foot of Ian’s bunk right between The Great Gatsby and The Book Thief.

“For emergencies,” Mickey told him one night, like a stern parent, showing Ian all his best hiding spots.

For information, is what he meant. For when something goes wrong.

Ian thinks now more than ever, something has gone wrong.

And maybe tomorrow Mickey will thump him upside the head for using it on something stupid, like confirming his boyfriend is in solitary for calling one of the guards a little bitch, but Ian doesn’t care. He’ll let Mickey call him ridiculous and a pussy and whatever the fuck he wants—as long as Ian knows he’s going to be okay.

So he waits the two hours after lights out for the guards to make their first lap of the cellblock on patrol, but he doesn’t recognize any of them. He waits another two hours for their next walk around, twiddling his fucking thumbs and refusing to fall asleep.

He recognizes one of the guards this time, an old school officer named Daniels who no one would ever blink twice at, let alone mark him as corrupt. But Ian does. Ian does because Mickey told him, showed him, had his back more than once and needed Daniels to make certain things happen.

And now it’s Ian’s turn.

“Daniels,” he calls out quietly, sitting up in his bunk just as the guards are almost past his door.

His heart beats hard against his chest and his breathing is fast, but his stomach nearly falls out his ass when the guard actually stops.

Ian is up and pressed against the door in an instant, looking too eager and too green but not giving a single fuck about any of it.

Daniels nods at his partner to go on ahead, waiting a full minute before turning around and looking at Ian straight on.

“I need your help,” Ian says quickly. “I need—”

“Step back, inmate.”

Ian blinks. For a second he thinks that maybe he got his guards mixed up, but there’s a sewn on patch that reads Daniels across the guy’s chest, and that just leaves Ian confused.

“What? No,” Ian rushes out. “I thought—”

“Step back,” Daniels says again, quieter. “So I can open the door.”

Ian does as he’s told.

He stands farther back in the room, shoulders square and his spine elongated to his full height. He waits for the buzzer and the click of the door, never taking his eyes off the guard as he takes three steps into the room.

He doesn’t ask about the empty bunk or the missing cellmate, which leads Ian to believe that he knows.

“Where’s Mickey?” Ian asks, jumping the gun.

Daniels looks him over for a minute. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He so clearly does, but, well—Ian is bad at this, and he’s never been able to play anything cool in his entire fucking life.

He holds out the folded bills in his hand, and Daniels’s brow twitches in interest. He reaches out to take it, but as soon as he grabs on, Ian pinches the cash hard between his thumb and forefinger.

“Where is he?” he asks again.

Daniels tugs the money free from Ian’s grasp, then counts out the cash. He tucks it away in his pocket before resting both hands on his belt, thumbs dipping beneath the fabric as he rocks back on his heels.

“Inmate Milkovich is in the infirmary,” he says without a hint of emotion.

Ian’s heart stops. “For what?”

Daniels just shrugs.

“Fuck,” Ian mutters, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “Is he okay?”

“He’s alive,” Daniels says with another impersonal shrug.

Ian remembers to breathe. Alive is good. Alive is—not dead.

Daniels turns to leave, taking two steps towards the door.

“Wait,” Ian calls out, then hesitates when the guard actually turns back. “What… happened?”

Daniels just shrugs again, walking out of the cell like he doesn’t have all the answers that Ian so desperately craves. He stands in the hallway, tilts his head a little as he watches Ian, and as the cell door starts to slide back into place, he says,

“He got stabbed.”

***

yeah i'm pretty sure the prompt for this one was "bloody knife" so that's where this was going.

anyways

thanks for the ask and the lovely words 💛💛💛

#ask sam #q

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ohtobeleah · 7 months

Note

Ok a scream into the void angst/fluff idea…Jake, the cocky asshole, Mr Adonis (I think that’s what he calls his dick) maybe his girlfriend gets sick with something, or (maybe angstier) she got sick and her ex bf dumped her cause of it..she’s scared to tell Jake cause she thinks he’ll leave her…

Now Jake isn’t stupid, he sees the bottles of pills in her apartment, but his mamma raised him well enough to not ask about it…but he still watches and tries to maybe guess why she has a pharmacy in her apartment (fanboy overhears a convo with javy and suggests “drug dealer” cause he’s a little shit) and maybe she forgets to take her medication one day or something..something happens and after the doctors/er/emergency meds etc..happen she tells Jake and is all “it’s ok if you don’t want to keep going, I get it” and Jake is A: no way in hell leaving her B: researches her illness…I have SO many thoughts about this -chronic illness anon 🧠

Ok but that one chronic illness 🧠 anon back with angst fluff and a sprinkle of panic/protective Jake x sick!Gf

Maybe the illness she has doesn’t have a cure or the treatment doesn’t have great results..something like that idk this is just word-vomit atm so she goes in for this test to see if there’s something that could help..the test has her attached to a bunch of machines, she can’t leave the room or have any privacy or anything…Jake is basically living in the room with her if he can, bringing her his button up pjs cause the machine wires won’t let her wear normal pjs, if they have to have a nurse or a camera or whatever always watching for the test, he makes sure to cover her up when she’s changing or going to the bathroom or what have you….

And to make it angstier (I know how you write Leah, I’ve read bruises and whumptober 😜)

Maybe he ends up holding her or cuddling on the couch and the doctor is like “you can’t hold her cause you’re messing up the wires/machines/idk…oh boy does he give the doctor an earful when he steps out of the room.

Another angsty idea, say the doctors were like “you’d only have to do it for two weeks” and then it’s “let’s try another week” and then she ends up staying there the whole month…Jake would be comforting her every time the doctors are “let’s just keep you there more” He also is the best post-test bf, his shirts, your favorite food, movies and cuddle or just cuddles…sex but only the next day cause our baby boy doesn’t want to break you. Even if it was a test and nothing actually happened,

(why do I feel like you might combine all these angsty ideas just to make us cry 😂)

-chronic illness anon🧠

Oh wow. I can’t believe this stayed in my inbox for as long as it did before I got around to reading it. Maybe I should use this for a Christmas inspo fic. 🥺

#pending Christmas one shot

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skyward-floored · 8 months

Text

Whumptober Day 9: Polaroid (“you’re a liar”)

I purposely got off of tumblr and didn’t get sucked into lu update stuff too much because I knew that if I did I would never finish this XD But here’s today’s fic! I love writing Malon :)

Read on ao3

Warnings: kidnapping, some violence, and a broken bone

————————————————————

“I can’t find my pictobox!”

Time looked up at the complaint, and saw Wind digging through his bag and emptying it into a steadily increasing pile next to him. The others were packing up their gear to in preparation to move, and more than one exasperated face was thrown towards Wind’s mess.

“I wanted a picture of that cool island in the lake, but it’s gone!” Wind huffed as he leaned back, bag now empty. “Who took it?”

“Don’t look at me,” Wild said with his hands up, packing away his cooking supplies. “I don’t need it, I have my own camera.”

“I didn’t either!” Legend defended at Wind’s accusing finger, and the rest of them replied in the negative when Wind looked around at them all.

“We’ll help you look for it sailor,” Warriors said as he joined his side, and they began scouring the campsite.

Time glanced around where he was sitting, but there was no sign of the distinctive red and yellow device, and he shook his head, watching the others search. The camera had to be around here somewhere, Wind had been using it just the night before.

Hopefully it hadn’t been broken.

Time sighed, and prepared to get down on his knees to help search when the sound of footsteps made him look up. He wasn’t the only one who tensed towards his weapon, but it was merely the mailman, stepping through the reeds near their campsite, and they all relaxed.

“I have a letter, for a... Link,” he said with smile, holding it out. Time took it, as he was one of the only Links not crawling around in the rushes, and he smiled at the script.

He recognized Malon’s handwriting instantly, and felt something warm in his chest at the familiar loops. It hadn’t been too long since she’d sent him a letter, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“I also found this, does it belong to you?” the mailman asked, and Wind cheered as he saw the red and yellow device.

“My pictobox!” he yelled excitedly, and ran over and took it, studying it for any damage. “All right!”

“Thank you,” Time said politely, and the mailman gave him a surprisingly big grin.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

And then he was gone as unnaturally fast as always, Sky and Twilight both frozen in the act of getting up. They both sit back down with a grumble at their quarry lost (they both had questions about the mail service using unstable dark magic portals), and Time chuckled, grabbing a small knife to tease open the letter.

He had plenty of time to read it after all. Wind still needed to pack everything he owned back into his bag.

The sailor began cajoling Warriors to help him pack all his stuff together again, voice pleading, and Time finally got the seal off the letter, unfolding the paper with a smile.

Then felt his heart stop.

Surrender, and no further harm will come to her.

That was it. Nothing else.

Nine little words in scrawling, angry handwriting that was nothing like Malon’s, and they were enough to make Time feel like he’d been stabbed in the chest.

His heart finally started beating again, but it was going so fast it was like a panicked animal trapped in his chest, and his breathing began to pick up.

No further harm? What had her kidnapper already done to her? How had they known? Was she even—

“Old man? Are you okay?”

Twilight was looking at him in concern, and Time merely stared at him, still frozen in shock.

“Time, you’re as pale as a ghost, what did Malon say? Is she okay?” he repeated, and the rest of the Links looked at him in concern.

Time couldn’t get his mouth to work, and Legend sighed and moved around behind him so he could read the letter as well. He immediately paled, and looked between Time and the paper without saying anything for a moment.

“It’s not from Malon. Someone’s done something to her,” he said finally, and the clearing went dead silent. “It says to surrender, and... she won’t suffer any further harm.”

“Further?” Sky asked in a horrified voice, and they all looked at Time again.

He felt as if he was going to be sick.

“No, no way, it’s a trick. It has to be a trick,” Wild spoke up, voice fierce as he stood. “They’re lying Time, whoever it is has got to be lying, there’s no way Malon could...”

He trailed off, hands clenched into fists, and Twilight approached Time, his face white. He held out a hand, and Time handed him the letter with a grip that was definitely not shaking.

But another paper fluttered out between them as he handed it over, tucked into the envelope. Time snatched it up mere seconds before it touched the ground, and turned it over, staring at the picture in silence.

The mystery of where Wind’s pictobox had gone last night was immediately solved.

The photograph showed Malon in disarray, a look equally angry and frightened in her eyes where she was bound to a chair. Dark Link stood in the foreground, obviously holding the pictobox with one hand while he gestured to Malon with the other, a grin splitting his shadowed face.

There was a dark line of blood on Malon’s cheek.

Time’s numb shock snapped into a wave of pure fury, crashing over him as he stood up. He looked around at the other heroes, clenching the photograph so tightly it nearly ripped in his hands.

“We’re going. Now.”

(...)

Malon’s cheek hurt.

She let out a quiet sigh, the sound muffled by the cloth over her mouth. It was tied tight over her face, and it dug in painfully to the scratch the dark copy of her husband had given her. It stung rather badly, and was still bleeding a bit, and the blood soaking into the gag only made the whole situation that much more unpleasant.

Malon was proud of the reason she’d received the cut though, along with the sting in her knuckles and the handful of bruises she was sporting.

The Shadow of her husband had caught her by surprise, breaking into her house in the dead of night looking nearly identical to Link. Malon had only been fooled for a moment, and she’d done her best to fight him off and escape, managing a few solid punches before he’d overpowered her, and making his nose bleed all over her floor.

Then he’d tied her up, and gagged her when she kept demanding answers from him, bringing her through a shadowy portal like the ones her husband and the other boys had been traveling through.

She’d squirmed and fought and yelled at him the entire time, but he’d either ignored her, or given her a smile that made a shiver run down her spine. And then he’d taken her picture with a strange little device, and stalked away, leaving more then one monster stationed around the perimeter of the room, all watching her closely.

Their gazes made her skin prickle, and she dearly wished she could have a little privacy, or at least not be in the center of the room. She felt like some sort of garish display for people to gawk at, and the looks the monsters were giving her only made the feeling worse.

And truth be told, she was a bit frightened of what exactly Dark Link was planning on doing with her.

She breathed out, calming the panic that had been licking at her heels all night. She didn’t need to worry. Link would be along shortly, and nine heroes were nothing against a second-rate copy.

I hope.

A distant screech caught her attention, and she looked over at the doorway, the shadow of her husband also glancing in its direction. He waved some of the monsters through it, then moved around behind her somewhere where she couldn’t easily see him.

Having him so close but out of sight made her stomach twist.

A much closer shout rang through the doorway, and Malon felt her heart leap as a monster fell dead across the threshold, disappearing into dust. She knew that shout well.

Link entered the room seconds later with his sword already bloodied, the rest of the boys behind him looking equally tense and battle worn.

His gaze immediately sought her own, and a look equally relieved and furious shone in his eye. Malon would’ve tried to give him a reassuring smile, but her mouth was still gagged, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to dredge up a look that was truly comforting.

“That’s far enough.”

Something cold settled against her neck, and Malon breathed in sharply, a blood-red sword pressed to her skin.

The heroes all froze, staring at her with differing mixtures of fear and outrage on their faces. Dark Link stared at them all, watching to make sure none of them approached, then nodded, looking satisfied.

“Good. Now we can all have a nice, civil chat.”

“Not while you still threaten her,” Link said sharply, and Malon could hear how desperately he was holding back the emotion in his voice.

Oh fairy boy.

The other boys loudly agreed with him, and Dark Link looked around at them all, appearing entirely unbothered.

“I am dictating the terms here,” he replied smoothly, and looked at Malon with a smile that normally made her heart soar. “After all, I do seem to hold all of the cards.”

Malon fixed her husband’s shadow with the most intense glare she could manage, wishing her mouth was free to tell him just what she thought of him. He had the audacity to laugh at her though, and something almost possessive shone in his eyes as she glared. The sword at her neck eased just a little, and he leaned closer to her, practically nose-to-nose.

His breath even smelled like Link’s, and Malon froze, suddenly terrified of what he was going to do.

“I see why you married her, she’s got spirit, this one,” Dark Link purred, holding her chin in an almost terrifyingly gentle grip. His fingers felt like ice. “She’s quite the catch.”

“Release her,” Link nearly snarled, and surprisingly enough the Shadow obeyed, his fingers slipping off her face. The sword never left her neck though, and Malon forced herself not to shake as it teased her skin again.

“I made my demands abundantly clear, Hero of Time, and I think they’re quite reasonable,” Dark Link said, sliding his blade just enough to make pain trickle across Malon’s neck. “Surrender, and no further harm will come to her.”

“What proof do we have that you’ll stick with it?” Twilight interjected, his face just as dark as her Link’s.

“Yeah, we have no guarantee!” Wind shouted, and the others joined in, “why should we do anything you say?!”

Dark Link smiled.

“Because you have no choice.”

He abruptly twisted around and grabbed Malon’s arm, the ropes at her wrists cut off with his sword. Before she could even register what was happening, he twisted to the side, and a horrible crack echoed through the room.

Malon couldn’t hold back her scream.

Pain burst up her arm and shoulder, white sparking in her vision, and there was a sudden rush of noise from where the Heroes were standing, shouts and cries of outrage, and questions of if she was okay.

But Malon couldn’t focus on anything at the moment, just the pain blazing up her arm. She knew immediately something was broken, possibly in more then one place, but before she could even try to ease the pain or calm herself down, something twisted her arm around and it got even worse.

She couldn’t stop herself from crying out again as Dark Link replaced the ropes around her wrists, roughly pulling her arms behind her back. Tears trickled out of her eyes and dampened the gag, and every breath was more painful then the last.

The sound of a weapon clattering to the ground pulled her out of the worst of the pain clouding her mind, and she looked up, meeting Link’s eyes through her tears.

“I surrender!” he shouted, staring at her in horror. His sword was on the ground, and he raised his hands up, turning a glare on Dark Link that was filled with such hatred Malon was surprised he didn’t burn up on the spot.

“I surrender. Let her go.”

“I’m glad we came to an understanding,” Dark Link smiled, ignoring the glare, “very noble of you. But I didn’t mean just you, Hero of Time. I want all of your complete surrenders in exchange for her safety.”

Link’s eyes flashed, but he looked behind him at where the others stood, watching him hesitantly. A few moments of silence went by, and Malon felt a hand curl its fingers around her unbroken arm.

“Do I need to make myself more clear?”

“No,” Sky replied quickly, and the other heroes dropped their weapons, looking just as angry and worried as Malon’s own Link did.

Dark Link removed his hand from her shoulder, and Malon couldn’t stifle a shudder, her heart sinking as she watched the last of the heroes place their weapons on the floor. Boys no, don’t let him use me against you!

“Good... now we’re getting somewhere,” Dark Link grinned, looking pleased as pudding. “I want your bags on the floor too, and any magical items you might be wearing. All nine of you will soon—”

He stopped suddenly, red eyes narrowing as they trailed along the heroes.

“We seem to be missing someone,” Dark Link said in a low voice, and the heroes went still. “Where is the First of the Downfall? The one you call Hero of Legend?”

The room went silent, apart from an unsteady breath from Malon.

Then there was a quiet swish of a cape, and the Hero of Legend suddenly appeared out of nothing, charging at Dark Link with his sword high and eyes blazing with torchlight.

He threw himself at the shadow, and Dark Link was forced to hold his sword up to defend himself, removing it from Malon’s neck. The room erupted into chaos as their blades clashed, and the heroes quickly grabbed their weapons. They leapt forward, the monsters around the perimeter running to stop them, and screeches and yelling echoed all over the room.

And Malon couldn’t do anything but watch it happen, her arm still burning white hot with pain.

She watched Legend narrowly dodge a strike that would have killed him, and looked down at herself, shoulder aching as she tilted her head. Wriggling loose of her ropes wasn’t even a possibility now that she had an opportunity to, her arm entirely uncooperative, and frustration broke through her pain.

Malon looked down at her arm, nausea twisting in her stomach at the angle it was at.

I have to try.

She experimentally wiggled her good arm, trying to see if she could at least loosen the ropes. But pain ripped through the broken one with even that tiny movement, and she gasped, closing her eyes as she fought back more tears of pain.

Okay. Okay, wait a bit, then try again.

You have to get out of here.

As if summoned by her thoughts, something suddenly pulled at the ropes on her feet, and Malon dizzily looked down, trying to focus on who was helping her. All she could make out was blond hair though, bent over her ankles. A different set of hands was at her back, pulling off her gag and ever-so-gently removing the ropes at her wrists.

Her breath hitched with pain when the hands accidentally nudged her arm, and there was an apology in her ear, then a rustle as the ropes fell to the ground.

A hand very carefully shifted her arm to a better position, and Malon squeezed her eyes shut, trying not shout at the pain. But once it was let go, Malon could actually focus a little better now that the ropes weren’t twisting it around. It still hurt, rather badly, but not quite to the extent it had.

She looked up at who had freed her, and saw Twilight standing next to Four and Sky, the two keeping a sharp eye on the fight around them while Twilight looked her over with no small alarm.

“Malon, are you okay?” he asked, the worry on his face only growing as he studied her arm. “...never mind, that’s a stupid question. How bad is your arm?”

“It’ll be okay,” she replied, voice mostly not shaking, and squeezed Twilight’s hand with her good one. “Thank you, hon.”

Twilight helped her up, ears pricked for any monsters that might approach, and Malon rubbed at her cheeks, sore from how tight the gag had been. Her stomach twisted when she felt something move in her arm, and she held a little tighter to Twilight’s arm as the pain spiked.

“I’m sorry, I’d offer you a potion, but we’ll have to set your arm first,” Twilight apologized, looking a little frantic as she forced herself to keep her breathing steady through the pain. Easy does it Malon. “And that’ll have to wait until we’re somewhere safe.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and Twilight began to lead her away from the worst of the fighting.

Four stayed nearby, giving her an encouraging look before returning his gaze to the fight around them. Sky stayed a bit further away, but he didn’t go far, and they both acted as a sort of guard as Twilight led her across the room. Her world narrowed to mostly Twilight’s arm supporting her as they walked, and the pain that only seemed to get worse in her arm.

She couldn’t entirely bite back a gasp when it abruptly spiked, and swallowed back her nausea as Twilight gently squeezed her hand.

They’d stopped walking at some point, she wasn’t sure when. She was afraid to raise her head and check if they’d left the room or not, worried the nausea she felt in the back of her throat would win and she’d end up making even more of a mess of herself. Talking was going on around her, possibly directed at her, but she couldn’t focus on any of it, just the pain that wouldn’t go away in her arm.

Then a voice cut through the fog she’d been drifting through, sharp and frantic.

“Malon!”

She raised her head, and suddenly Link was holding her, pressing her into his arms, murmuring frantic apologies and assurances as she buried her head in his shoulder and allowed herself a couple more tears.

Relief swept through Malon as Link held her, carefully not touching her arm, running trembling fingers through her hair. She could hear his heart thumping rapidly where her ear was pressed to his neck, and she merely listened to it for a moment as he held her, warm and safe.

Link finally pulled back enough to properly look at her face, and his thumb gently caressed her cheek, right next to the cut Dark Link had given her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes still shining with fear.

“I think I should be asking you that,” she said with a teasing smile, but her voice shook, and Link’s face creased further. He carefully ran a hand over her arm and shoulder, Malon flinching at the pain that shot up her arm at his touch, and he winced and apologized.

Someone said something over his shoulder, and Link looked back and replied, though Malon didn’t catch everything that was said.

“...Is Legend okay?” she asked suddenly, remembering how he’d leapt at the Shadow.

“He’s fine. Dark Link got away, but he’ll think twice before coming after you again,” Twilight said with a smile, and Malon blinked. She hadn’t realized he was still nearby.

“I gave him something to remember me by, that’s for sure,” Legend’s voice said from somewhere nearby. His tone was satisfied, but it held something dangerous in it.

Link’s arms went around her more tightly again, and Malon looked up at him, a storm of all sorts of emotions on his face. He caught her looking, and gave her a slightly brittle smile.

“I’m okay,” she reassured gently, and he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I’ve done that to you enough to know you’re absolutely not telling the truth,” he replied, but his smile was a little more genuine then before. “We’ll get you healed as soon as we’re able, Malon.”

Malon nodded, and ignored how her arm still hurt like it was being trampled on, and how her stomach still twisted with nausea, merely setting her chin on Link’s shoulder again.

“Thank you fairy boy,” she said softly, and Link held her as tight as he could without hurting her arm. “I wish I could have stopped him.”

Link let out a trembling sigh.

“I’m just relieved you’re okay.”

#I was going to make Polaroid work for this fic if it killed me lol #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu time #lu Malon #lu malink #lu twilight #linked universe fanfic #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #day 9 #you’re a liar #writing from the floor

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pro-gamer-moves · 8 months

Text

My One (1) Completed Whumptober Fic

Tbh this one is more like slapstick it doesn't take itself too seriously.

Time sighed. Once again, they had been separated by a portal. It had been happening so often lately that he was starting to think they should just tie themselves together anytime they appeared. Oh well, nothing he could do about it now.

He took stock of his surroundings. There wasn’t a lot of light, but the walls looked like they were made out of stone bricks from his position on the ground. He stood up and walked over. Yep, definitely some sort of purposeful construction. They had probably all teleported into different rooms of a dungeon.

If that were the case, there would be a door around here somewhere. It was too dark to see the walls though… he rummaged around in his bags for something to light it up, eventually pulling out an arrow and casting a light spell on it.

Time hummed happily. The illumination had revealed a chest on the floor! This was the fun part of being a hero. He slowly lifted the lid in anticipation, and pulled out a small silver key, lifting it over his head in triumph. Now to find the door…

Tapping the walls with his sword revealed that one of them would crumble in an explosion, so he pulled out a bomb and set it on the floor in front of the false wall. Behind it was a similar, if larger room that had glyphs carved into the stone at random-seeming intervals. It was also full to the brim of Stalchildren.

Not wanting to fight so many monsters, he put on his Captain’s Hat and got work examining the room. After checking the walls with his sword and the Lens of Truth, he concluded that the key to the next room must be connected to the glyphs. Or something. Nayru, this was so much easier when he had a fairy.

He sat down in front of one of them and pulled out the Ocarina of Time. He didn’t see any meaning in the carvings, so he decided he was just going to have to go through his repertoire song by song.

Time sighed again. Maybe one of the others would find him first.

~~~

He was halfway through the Song of Healing when the wall in front of him blurred and distorted. Looks like he had found the right song, then. He kept playing, having learned long ago not to interrupt a song while it was doing its work.

The wall continued to warp in time with his song, then a face appeared. Time looked up in surprise. Was that Twilight? Now he knew he definitely couldn’t stop playing, else the rancher got caught in the wall as it solidified.

Twilight stepped into the light of his arrow, saw Time sitting on the floor with his ocarina, and promptly fainted.

That wasn’t good. Seeing that Twilight was on the floor instead of in the wall, Time hooked the Ocarina back on his belt and rushed over, ordering the Stalchildren to stay back as he did so. Twilight looked fine at first glance, no blood anywhere as far as Time could tell…

Twilight’s eyes opened, focused on Time’s face, and opened even wider in fear. His mouth twisted like he was trying to suppress a cry, and his shoulders hunched under his wolf pelt. What had gotten him so worked up? Was there something wrong with his face?

Time poked his face to make sure it was the one he usually had and almost slapped his forehead at his own stupidity. He was still wearing the Captain’s hat! Of course Twilight would be scared, he looked like a Stalfos right now!

Time quickly lifted the mask to show the rancher his face. “Don’t freak out, it’s just me! I’m wearing a mask to keep the Stalchi—“ he heard bones rattling behind him and put the mask back on. “To distract the Stalchildren. It’s just an illusion, I’m still Link.”

Twilight relaxed. “Old man?”

“The one and only.”

He stood and held out his hand to help Twilight up. “How’d you get in here, anyway? You shouldn’t have been able to get through the wall before I finished my song.”

Twilight held up his wrist, revealing a bejeweled bracelet. “Magic bracelet, found it in a chest. It lets me walk through walls if they have special carvings on them.”

“Ah.”

“You have a song that lets you go through walls?”

“I thought I did, but I guess it was just your bracelet. How are we going to both get out of here?”

Twilight picked up the light arrow and used it to search the room. “We can both go if we’re touching, but I need to find a small key first.”

Time held up the key he had found. “Already got it.”

“Great. Let’s get back to the others then, we still have to find quite a few more Links.”

#lu time #lu twilight #linked universe #whumptober 2023

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librathefangirl · 7 months

Note

i need to know about all of these fics NOW (no pressure take your time ofc ofc)

Wrath of a Captain

Moment of Rest (a Decade Too Late)

Hitmen!Demon bros AU

Galand exposes Meliodas' demon secret

How to Demon (Yes, Captain, This is Really Necessary)

Meliodas and the Kids AU #1

also never realized how silly i name my documents till now 😭😭😭‼️‼️‼️

Ahh hearing you excited about all these is making me excited to write them again (hoping to get back to writing more soon - october was a mess and a half :( but I have 2 whumptober fics that I almost finished that should maybe might be posted soon?)

Okay so...

Wrath of a Captain

Fun fact about this one is that it was one of (possibly the) first nnt fic ideas I wrote down when I first got into the fandom. Tho in what - 1-1,5 years? - I've still barely started writing it (oops). But not for lack of interest! I'm still excited about this one, I just haven't been able to specify the scenario enough to start writing (I keep getting distracted by other fic ideas lol).

To summarize the idea in three words: Protective Captain Meliodas.

And here's a rough summary I wrote for myself:

The Seven Deadly sins were a well-known force only fools would take lightly. Though faced with a captain that was small and short, and seemed the complete opposite of wrath itself, it was easy to underestimate him. But just because the captain didn't get angry, didn't mean he never got close. Especially if one were foolish enough to dare attack his team.

A Moment of Rest (a Decade Too Late)

This is a fic I started this summer and then kinda forgot about (oh the art of finishing a fic before moving on to the next one). It takes place after the Capital of the Dead arc and deals with the aftermath of Sins being split-up for 10 years from King's perspective. Now, I can't remember, if it originally was supposed to be "Meliodas was alone for 10 years" angst or "Meliodas was alone for 10 years and demons don't do well in isolation" angst, but it's probably gonna end up being the second one now. Which means the rest of the Sins, while not knowing Meliodas' full story, knows he is a demon and how these past 10 years would have affected him because of it.

Here's a little sneak peek:

The princess had already retired into the Boar Hat, while Ban had simply settled for grabbing Meliodas and sprawling out on the ground. He wasn’t sleeping. His ease was a facade at best. King knew that he too was plagued by these past ten years, and the guilt they brought. It had never been supposed to go this far… Meliodas seemed dazed. A state hopefully only brought forth by the lull of sleep slowly claiming him. He wasn’t quite asleep yet though. To an outsider he might have seemed to be, but King knew him better. His guard was still firmly up, although slowly but surely being picked apart by Ban’s hand repeatedly running through his hair. Meliodas was curled up tighter than he normally would, yet at the same time more relaxed than King had seen him since before they were framed. His head was neatly tucked on top of Ban’s chest. Ear over his heart, no doubt. He’d always had a particular fondness of that, their captain. Easily soothed by the beat of a heart – by the beat of their hearts at least.

Hitmen!Demon bros AU

Oooh this one. thiiiis one! I'm still mostly in the planning stage for this one, but I can't wait until I get to share the full thing with you all. Like the name suggests, it's a modern (possibly slight futuristic) AU where the DK raised his sons as hitmen. It's gonna be a multichapter fic (probably my longest wip yet) and there will be lots of demon bros angst!

Fun fact, while the I had thought about this AU a bit, I wasn't necessarily planning on writing it at first. Then my mind provided me with this super angsty demon bros scene and an awful chapter cliffhanger, and well, now I'm invested. I need to know how this story ends. (If this sounds familiar, I did mention this once before).

Anyway, I have written the first 300-something words, setting up the angst before a jump back in time, so here's a sneak peek:

Perhaps one of the most defining moments in Meliodas’ life happened on January 29th the year he was turning 26. The day Meliodas found himself on a rooftop staring down his own little brother, a raised gun in both their hands aimed at each other. The only sound was the falling rain as the world itself seemed to hold its breath waiting for who would make the first move. At that moment, Meliodas had thought he had known exactly how the day would end. He had known it in the calculating part of his mind that he never could quite shut off, and had felt it in his heart that seemed to break every time he saw his little brother. He had thought he knew what would happen. He had been wrong. Everybody has a choice, but sometimes it doesn’t matter what you chose.

Galand exposes Meliodas' demon secret

Now this one I've shared a bit about before - partly to complain about my (still going strong) habit of stopping my writing in the middle of a sentence. Sadly, I haven't really made any progress since then. Mostly because I can't remember where tf the story was supposed to go (did I even have a plan?? I found the story aka the snippet of writing in a school notebook I hadn't used for months, so who knows).

Anyway! What I do know is that Galand fucks everything up on purpose, and is the one to reveal Meliodas' demon secret to the rest of the Sins. How the story continues from there, well, I'll figure that out eventually. For now, the last part of the fic looks like this:

It had all started with a confrontation with one of the Ten Commandments. Galand of Truth. He hadn’t even seemed to be looking for a fight – not in that moment anyway – King had noticed. He’d just been there to stir up trouble. Always playing games as usual¸ Meliodas had said. Well, games or not, Galand really had caused trouble. The demon had been quick to pick up on the rest of the Seven Deadly Sins’ surprise that Meliodas seemed to know him personally, and then deduced...DEDUCED WHAT??

How to Demon (Yes, Captain, This is Really Necessary)

This is actually a request/fic idea I got from a reader on ao3. It's also mostly still in the planning stage, having taken a backseat to my Febuwhump fic. But the idea is basically Melin giving a lesson on demons to the Sins with the (reluctant) aid of Meliodas. Or in other words, Merlin is sick of being (almost) the only one who knows how to keep Mel alive and will make it everybody's probably whether they want to or not. It'll also take place in the same AU as The Heat of the Storm (which means more of my demon thermoregulation, yay! - oh, actually, sidenote: I'm working on a post about that hc).

So, we'll have random demon lore/headcanons/stuff, some humor, and, of course, angst (probably more angst than should come from this otherwise humorous idea).

Meliodas and the Kids AU #1

The first of (at least) three fics taking place in the Meliodas and the Kids AU (aka Meliodas Adopts the Sins). In this AU, instead of the Sins becoming knights together way down the line, Meliodas ends up adopting/taking them in as kids* over the years.

Now, I use the term kids loosely here since neither King nor Gowther will actually be kids in the normal sense. But Gowther will be on his own for the first time and also still new to the world, and King, well, I still got some ideas for his relationship with Mel (and also, he is still significantly younger than Mel, so I say he still counts as his kid).

This first fic will consist of six chapters (one for each "kid"), exploring how Meliodas ended up taking them all in, and the dynamics of this mismatched little family (mostly the kids relationships' with Mel).

(Also Elizabeth is probably gonna be dead-dead in this AU).

Here's a sneak peek from the first (Merlin's) chapter:

When you find yourself stuck in time, it’s good to set up some rules for yourself, unless you want to lose yourself to madness. Meliodas didn’t have the luxury for madness. Madness was not going to solve anything. He would still be stuck here, unaging and undying, without an end in sight. Submitting to madness would also be admitting that the only purpose his life had left was suffering. An eternity alone in the human realm as a punishment for his crimes against the Demon King. His father was a huge asshole, okay? Meliodas was not about to give him the satisfaction of watching him break. So, he made some rules. The most important one was: do not get attached. [some other stuff not included in this sneak peek] Do not get attached. It was simple and important – and Meliodas had broken the rule before he had even made it.

(also I love your wip titles XD and will definitely send an ask for some ramblings of your own - but that will have to wait, I've got an 8am lecture in less than 7 hours and need to get some sleep, so Imma put a to be continued on the wip talk for now)

WIP Tag/Ask Game!

#thanks for the ask!#libra answers #gh0stofyesterday #wip tag game #wip ask game #libra talks about her writing #my wips #wrath of a captain #a moment of rest (a decade too late)#hitmen demon bros au #galand exposes meliodas' demon secret fic #how to demon fic #meliodas and the kids au #nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins

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