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aerynwrites · 5 months

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Whittle Mistakes

Halsin x GN!Reader

A/N: Based off this Request. Hope you all enjoy this little fluffy piece!

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: small injury, magic healing, mostly pure fluff

The afternoon is a mild one today, the usual heat giving way to a pleasantly cool breeze as you listen intently to Halsin’s instructions.

You managed to convince the druid to show you how to whittle, a feat that actually took very little convincing in truth. Once you found out about his hobby, you’d been wanting to ask him to teach you. Not only because you are genuinely interested, but because you knew it’d give you an excuse to spend time with him away from the others.

He’s been increasingly patient with you, bringing all of the supplies you both would need in order to take on this task. He even had small blocks of wood already prepared, and was now walking you slowly through the steps of what to do.

He’d already shown you how to draw a rough shape of what you want to create on the sides of the wood with a small piece of charcoal, and now he was showing you the actual techniques of whittling.

He holds the wood in one hand, and his knife in the other, large hands holding the tool steady as he slowly carved small slivers of wood away.

“The key is to not cut away too much wood at once,” he says, as you lean over to watch from your seat next to him. “You can always cut more away, but you cannot put it back. Better to go slow.”

You nod as you continue to watch him. You’re both sitting in a small clearing in the woods, Halsin having one leg propped up to support the arm holding the knife while the other lays comfortably out in front of him as he works. You sit right beside him, cross legged as you support the block of wood on one of your legs.

“Okay,” you say, nodding. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

Halsin smiles. “Precisely. Now,” he gestures to your block, “go ahead and start, let me know if you have any questions and I will also try to keep an eye on you if you need assistance. But there’s no better teacher than instinct, so just do what you think is best.”

You nod as he turns back to his work, but don’t kiss the way his eyes flick back over to you as you pick up your knife. From everything he’s told you so far, it can’t be too hard, once you get to the intricate parts of the project it will be, but right now you’re just trying to get a general shape.

What could go wrong?

You start slowly, pressing the knife’s sharp edge against the wood and pulling it towards you slowly as you dutifully work to shave off more and more of the wood. Halsin is of course whittling a duck; but you’ve opted to try and carve a bear, wanting to give it to Halsin at the end.

Silence falls over the clearing as you both work, only occasionally making small talk or commenting on one another’s work. It’s comfortable like this, a nice reprieve from everything happening around you all.

You and Halsin have grown close over the past several weeks, and to say you were surprised when he expressed interest in you was an understatement. But you’d happily accepted, and as time went on, it feels like you both have known one another for years, falling into such a comfortable partnership that it never made you think twice.

Even now, despite the silence, you’re content just being close to him and sharing something that he cares about. You’re happy to just be in his presence even if there’s no words passing between you.

Soon, more defined shapes start to appear from your respective wood blocks, Halsin’s looking much more identifiable than yours. Taking a moment to look at your misshapen attempt at a bear, you realize its malformity is because of its head. You don’t seem to carve enough wood away to create a defined difference between the head and body.

But as you try to do so, you find your knife slipping against the awkward angle. So, in an attempt to achieve your goal, you turn the wood in your lap, and move to run the knife away from your body, hoping the downward angle will help.

You just start to push the knife when you see Halsin reach for you.

“Be careful, my heart-“

His warning comes too late. Your knife slips from the woodblock, and with the pressure of you pushing down, you’re unable to react fast enough to stop the sharp blade from slicing into your leg where the wood rests.

You cry out in surprise more than pain, but as the blood wells up from the shallow cut, the sharp sting makes itself known.

Halsin is up and crouching in front of you before you can even blink, taking the knife and wood from you. The blade cut through the thin cotton of your pants, allowing you to see the wound clearly. It’s nothing serious and doesn’t seem too deep, but Halsin brows are creased with worry nonetheless.

He reaches out for you, placing gentle hands on your thigh just around the wound, inspecting it quickly.

“Halsin,” you say, reaching out to place a hand atop his own. “I’m fine, it’s just a little cut. Nothing some bandages won’t fix.”

Your words fall on deaf ears, because before you can stop him, bright golden light glows beneath his palms and you watch as the wound closes up in the blink of an eye, the pain ebbing away until it’s gone completely.

Halsin looks up at you then, eyes soft and you can’t help but let out a quiet huff.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly as Halsin shifts closer, one hand coming to rest behind you as a smile tugs at his lips.

“I could not very well leave you injured, what kind of partner would I be then?”

You roll your eyes, but reach up to cup his cheek affectionately. “You’re such a mother hen, sometimes.”

A small chuckle escapes him before his lips capture your own in a chast kiss. One your return happily before he pulls away.

“I should have warned you not to carve away from yourself,” he says softly, moving back so he’s sitting in front of you once more, reaching for your now lumpy piece of wood.

“It’s alrigh,” you assure him, taking your project from his hands as you pick up your knife once more. “I should have known that wouldn’t end well,” you admit, staring down at your sad excuse for a bear. “I was trying to make this look more like a bear but…I think it’s a lost cause.”

Smiling Halsin shakes his head. “Do not give up, my heart. You can achieve whatever you set your mind to, even something as simple as whittling.”

You laugh, and start to continue your work. “We’ll see about that.”

The smile on his lips doesn’t leave as he takes up his position beside you once more, and this time, you shift to lean into his side as you work, smiling when you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” you tell him.

“And I love you more,” he replies.

Then, the comfortable silence falls over you once more. The only sound being the gentle scraping of knives in wood as you both continue your work.

#Halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #halsin #halsin bg3 #bg3 halsin #bg3

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the-name-is-z · 1 month

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SKELETONS | ch. 13

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: Shane's role in the group comes into question, Carl is up and healing, and everyone seems to be pissed off at something. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; carl learns how to whittle, writer mentions whittling ducks (inescapable halsin reference), carl steals a gun, a few group members learn to shoot, maggie gets pissed after a close call, mentions of pregnancy, (suggestions of) infidelity and abortion (copious amounts of morning after) pills, death threats

Chapter 13 - Gunslinging

Carl was up and walking the next morning, taking it easy and helping Lori feed the chickens with Patricia. He seemed to be doing okay, but Iris noted a few cynical comments from him that raised some eyebrows.

Glenn was hiding something, and it almost amused Iris more to follow him and watch him try to keep it to himself than to get him to come clean. He brought some fruit over to Dale and T-Dog while they were setting up the RV’s awning and had practically told them there was something dreadfully wrong.

Daryl was back in his tent, relaxing, though slightly annoyed he wasn’t out and about with the others. He knew better than to strain himself further. He’d forgiven Andrea already for trying to protect the group, but Iris was still annoyed that Shane gave her a gun in the first place.

Rick and Shane entertained Jimmy around their search map, Shane looking for spots for them to start training the others with guns. Even Patricia and Beth seemed interested in learning how to protect themselves.

Iris watched the interaction from the RV stairs, Carl standing beside her as she taught him how to whittle. He was mostly skilled in sharp, pointy sticks so far, but learning how to work the knife was the first step. He wore Rick’s hat around now that Rick’d ditched the uniform, and it suited him, despite being a little big.

“How’s it coming?” She asked, pulling her own knife away from the slowly-forming duck shape in her hand. Carl showed her the stick and she nodded. “See if you can make rings around the wood, try to make ‘em even.” He accepted the challenge, holding the knife carefully as Shane meandered over from Rick and their map.

“Nice lid, man.” He commented on the hat. “What’s going on?”

“We’re whittling.” Carl said with a grin. Shane nodded, observing the stick. He took a seat nearby, stretching out his legs. Carl put the knife into his pocket, turning to Shane. “I want to learn to shoot, too. Can you teach me?”

“Well, man, that’s up to your parents.” Shane replied with a chuckle.

“He asked me, too.” Iris stated, giving Carl a pointed look.

“Can you talk to them? They’ll listen to you.” Shane laughed.

“We’ll see, okay?” He answered. Carl nodded dejectedly, turning away

“Hey. What you got there?” Iris asked as he turned, a flash of black peeking out from under his shirt. Carl lifted the shirt, displaying the small revolver he’d found somewhere tucked into his pants. Iris and Shane looked to one another, the former holding out his hand expectedly.

They told Carl to go sit down at the camp and wait while Shane and Iris brought the gun to Rick and Lori.

“How the hell did this happen?” Lori asked, checking the ammo before tucking the gun into the waistband of her own jeans. Dale had his hands shoved in his pockets, glancing over at the young boy.

“It’s my fault, I let him into the RV. He said he wanted a walkie, that you sent him for one.” Dale explained. Rick sighed.

“So on top of everything else, he lied?” Lori asked, looking to her husband expectantly. “What’s he thinking?”

“He wants to learn how to shoot.” Shane stated. “He asked me and Iris both to teach him, separate times. Now it’s none of my business, but I’m happy to do it. It’s your call.”

“I’m not comfortable with it.” Lori replied with a humourless laugh. Rick didn’t say anything, looking up at Shane. “Oh, don’t make me the unreasonable one, here, Rick.”

“I know. I have my concerns too, but—“

“There’s no but. He was just shot.” Lori interrupted sternly. “He’s just back on his feet and he wants a gun?”

“Better than him being afraid of ‘em.” Rick countered.

“Maybe you could tide him over with a little gun safety.” Iris suggested. “As a start. Once he shows he’s responsible enough, he knows the rules, you can decide if he should learn more.”

“There are guns in this camp for a reason, he should learn to handle them safely.” Rick agreed. Lori scoffed and shook her head.

“I don’t want my kid walking around with a gun.” She stated plainly.

“But how can you defend that?” Rick asked. “You can’t let him go around without protection.”

“He’s as safe as he’ll ever be, right here.” Lori snapped. Rick sighed and she put up a hand. “Look, everything you’re saying makes perfect sense. It just feels wrong. I mean, I didn’t feel good about him following you out into the woods and I wish I’d said something. I should have gone with my gut.”

“He’s growing up— thank God. We’ve got to start treating him more like an adult.” Rick protested.

“Then he needs to act like one.” Lori said loudly, turning to her son. “He’s not mature enough to handle a gun.”

“I’m not gonna play with it, mom.” Carl said, standing and walking over. “It’s not a toy. I’m sorry I disappointed you, but I want to look for Sophia and I want to defend our camp. I can’t do that without a gun.”

“Shane’s the best instructor I know.” Rick said quietly, turning back to Lori. Iris smiled down at Carl, giving him a wink. She was proud of him for saying that. “I’ve seen him teach kids younger than Carl.” Lori blinked at her husband, staring for a moment before clamping her jaw shut and walking over to Carl. She gripped his face in one hand lightly, turning him up to face her.

“You will take this seriously.” She said firmly. “And you will behave responsibly. And if I hear from anyone in this camp that you’re not living up to our expectations—“

“He wont let you down.” Rick said, looking to his son pointedly. Carl nodded, looking up at his mom.

“Yeah.” He agreed. She squeezed his face before walking away.

“Now if you’re gonna do this, you listen to Shane.” Rick said.

“Okay, Dad.”

“Alright? You be careful.” He sent him off toward the cars as Shane and a few others started loading up the SUV and station wagon. Guns, ammo, things they could use for practice.

“You coming?” He asked Iris as she followed Carl.

“Yeah, I can be on walker duty.” She replied and he nodded.

“Glenn?”

“Nah, I told Dale I’d help him… clean the spark plugs on the RV.” Glenn replied, clearing his throat to hide the nervous tremor. Iris snorted loudly. “He’s gonna teach me mechanics. I should probably go look for him.”

“You found me.” Dale said, leaning against the small bench swing near the RV, raising an eyebrow. “He’s a good learner.” Iris and Shane exchanged a smirk as they got into the car, Shane starting up the engine.

They drove quickly to the spot Shane had scouted with the others following, and Shane quickly set up a line of old wine bottles, some filled with a bit of water, along the fence. Each one of them had a gun, holding them forward and shooting to the best of their ability. Shane walked along behind them like a sergeant, correcting form and straightening posture. Rick came out to watch for a while, mildly impressed by a few of them.

“Jimmy. You’re not a gangster from New Jersey. Hold the gun straight.” Iris called, noting the fact that the boy on the end was holding the gun with one hand, and sideways. He glanced back at her, putting both hands on the gun and holding it up and down before firing. The bullet shattered the glass of the bottle and she nodded.

Andrea was particularly enjoying the shooting lessons, with good enough aim. She mostly liked showing off in front of Shane, it seemed.

“I’d say she’s got the hang of it.” Shane stated.

“I’d say she’s ready for the advanced class.” Rick joked. “Might be worth your while after the rest of us head back to camp.”

“Sure, why not?” Andrea agreed, though Iris could see how giddy she was.

“Better watch your back, Shane. She might shoot you.” Iris taunted. Andrea turned around.

“You got a problem?” She asked, annoyed.

“Yeah, a little bit. I got a problem with the fact that everyone apparently forgot that you shot one of us yesterday. You need glasses or something?” Iris spat.

“Oh yeah? Since when are you one of us?” Andrea retorted. “Daryl forgave me, okay? I said I was sorry, and I am.” Iris scoffed, shaking her head.

“Whoa, whoa, ladies, c’mon now.” Shane interrupted, coming to stand between them. Andrea backed off a little, but in all honesty she was somewhat frightened by the fire in Iris’ eyes.

“I’m heading back.” Iris mumbled. “Gonna walk.”

Iris needed to cool off, that was for sure. She was irritated. To be fair to Andrea, Daryl did forgive her. But Iris had a hard time with it. She was frustrated that they weren’t making progress, toward finding Sophia, toward Fort Benning, any of it. She’d heard Hershel and Rick arguing, she knew that Hershel wanted them all to leave. That they weren’t welcome. Except Rick kept that to himself, and Iris was growing impatient.

There were things all of them needed to learn. Things Iris had to do the hard way. She lost everyone, and they didn’t know what that felt like. Maybe Andrea did, but she still had her group. And she almost threw them away like they were nothing, giving up, opting out. Iris had had plenty of opportunity to kill herself. But she wouldn’t. She felt an obligation to the world, to these people, now.

Maybe this was all just pent up emotion coming out. It probably was. But when Iris returned alone to the farm, she stuck to herself. She spent a few hours throwing her knives into a target she carved into a tree. Dale and Glenn asked if she was alright a while ago, and took her silence as an answer.

After a while, she started to sweat in the hot Georgia sun, and reached for her bandana to tie her hair back. She realized then that it was gone. She’d used it to prevent Daryl from bleeding to death in the woods. Iris would never said she regretted it, and she didn’t, but she did miss the bandana. It was Felix’s.

Iris looked up from helping Lori fold laundry as Glenn and Maggie stormed through the camp. Well, Maggie did the storming and Glenn followed her sheepishly. Everyone else had dispersed across the farm, and apparently Shane and Andrea were out looking for Sophia.

“Hey! We got your stuff.” Maggie snapped, slamming the gate behind her, right into Glenn. Lori looked up, somewhat alarmed.

“Maggie, hang on, please.” Glenn pleaded. Lori looked around frantically for other people, glancing nervously down at Iris, who was very confused.

“Come on in here.” Lori called, gesturing for Maggie to follow her into her tent, but Maggie was not having it.

“Why? Nothing to hide, we got your special delivery right here.” She yelled, shoving her arm into the paper bag. “We got your lotion, got your conditioner, your soap opera digest—“

“Maggie—“ Lori breathed.

“Next time you want something, get it your damn self. We’re not your errand boys.” She hissed.

“Honey, I—“

“And here’s your abortion pills.” Maggie snapped, throwing them into the dirt before shoving Glenn away, storming off. Iris’ mouth fell open, and she stayed silent as Lori scrambled to pick the pills up off of the ground. Glenn shot Lori an apologetic look before running after Maggie. Lori had tears in her eyes as she crouched, a hand to her mouth. She turned to Iris with a pleading look.

“I won’t say a word.” Iris whispered, shaking her head. Lori’s tears slipped down her face. “No judgement whether you take them or not. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.” Lori murmured. She practically collapsed into Iris’ arms, breathing deeply. Iris rubbed her back comfortingly, staring after Glenn and Maggie. Something must have happened. Maggie had blood on her shirt, but they both seemed fine. Hopefully Glenn could make her feel better.

Glenn came back a little while later, Lori and Iris sitting at the table inside her large tent.

“The blood on Maggie’s shirt?” Iris asked.

“She was attacked.” He confirmed.

“Are you guys alright? How bad was it?” Lori asked.

“It was pretty close.” He replied, stepping inside and taking a seat next to Iris, running his hands through his hair. She put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” Lori said, shaking her head. “I should never have asked you to go.”

“I offered.” Glenn replied, shaking his head.

“I thought the town was safe, but if you hadn’t come back—“

“But we did. I always do.” He assured. He had another bag in his hands and he messed with it as he looked down. “The morning-after pills— will they even work?”

“I don’t know.” Lori replied. “And I don’t know if I want them to.”

“Then, I got these too, just in case.” Glenn said, putting the paper bag on the table in front of her. She unwrapped the bag, pulling out two bottles of prenatal vitamins. Iris couldn’t hold back her small smile, and neither could Lori.

“That’s a hell of a choice.” Lori murmured.

“I’m glad it’s not mine.” Glenn stated honestly. “Lori… we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“With everything we’ve been through— yeah.” Lori replied quickly. He shook his head.

“I can’t tell you what to do— I could never tell you something like that. But your choice… maybe you shouldn’t make it alone.” He said nothing more before standing, putting his hand on Iris’ shoulder before ducking out of the tent.

“I’ll leave you alone for a bit. I’ll be nearby if you need me.” Iris said softly. Lori nodded, putting her head in her hands as Iris left her to think.

Shane and Andrea returned a little while later, with no sign of Sophia. They looked a little tired and had some walker blood on them, but no worse for wear. Yet, Iris could have sworn she saw a hickey. Dale seemed as equally suspicious of them. Iris nodded to Shane as he walked past, but Dale followed after him.

“Shane, I was thinking, you’ve got that nice new ride of yours, plenty of fuel, more than enough for you to get far from here.” Dale said sharply. Iris’ eyebrows shot up. Shane was… problematic, sometimes, but no one yet had outright asked him to leave.

“What, you telling me to leave?” Shane asked, glancing at Iris before looking back to Dale. It appeared that Iris would witness many a-private argument today.

“I know you’ve been planning to.” Dale said simply. “Maybe now’s a good time.” Shane looked to Iris, who stayed frozen, before huffing a laugh.

“Is this about Andrea?” He asked, narrowing his gaze.

“I’m looking out for the group.” Dale answered.

“You think the group would be better off without me, Dale? Why don’t you tell that to Rick or Lori? Their boy would be dead if I hadn’t put my ass on the line.”

“They’d be pretty disappointed if they knew you were using that as an excuse to save your own ass.” Iris said lowly. She wouldn’t let Carl become a bargaining chip for this bullshit.

“You risked yours, and Otis’s.” Dale pointed out. Shane said nothing, shaking his head and turning away. “Yeah, you’ve been vague about that night, about what happened.”

“Otis died a hero.” Shane said simply, turning back around.

“So you’ve said.” Dale replied accusingly.

“A little boy lived because of what went down that night.” Shane glowered. “I think you oughta show some gratitude.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“No, man, you weren’t.”

“But I was the time that you raised your gun on Rick.” Dale continued.

“What?” Iris asked, standing up.

“Come on. Jesus.”

“You had him in your sights and you held him there.” Dale continued. “I know what kind of man you are.” Shane stared down at the ground for a moment before looking up through his eyebrows. Iris had no love for the look in his eyes. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“You think I’d shoot Rick?” He breathed. “That’s my best friend. That’s the man that I love. I love him like he’s my brother. You think that’s the kind of man I am?”

“That’s right.” Dale replied confidently.

“Well, maybe we ought to just think that through.” Shane replied lowly. Iris stepped toward them slowly, her hand moving to rest on the handle of her knife. That sounded an awful lot like a threat. “Say that I’m the kind of man who’d gun down his own best friend. What do you think I’d do to some guy that I don’t even like when he starts throwing accusations my way? What do you think?”

Dale’s eyes were wide as Shane got close, looking down at him dangerously. Iris stepped forward, behind Dale, so she could remind him there were witnesses. And honestly, she would be much harder to kill. Shane stood there for a few seconds, hopefully contemplating what he just said, before turning away. Dale shuddered as he turned meeting Iris’ gaze.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” She muttered. He nodded, refusing to turn his back on Shane’s retreating silhouette.

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