#he finally managed to pull me closer and clip on the harness and then pull me back to the platform | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jchnstones · 2 years

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Loves me more | ben chilwell & mason mount

In which mason has recently moved in with Ben, and both proceed to bicker over who Oscar, the dog, loves more.

& so the christmas countdown begins! i hope you guys enjoy all of the imagines I post! you’ll be taken on a rollercoaster hehe. <3 merry Christmas!

word count: 1,953

BURIED UNDER several layers, head dunked under a woolly hat, mason is on his knees, bent over to reach the dogs height.

He and Ben had been living together for almost a year now, mason pleading for joint custody of Oscar ever since the first day he'd moved his things into the house. finally giving in four months later, ben needed a way to keep mason happy and quiet, so agreed. mason had always had a soft spot for the dog, but the shared ownership of their companion was driving ben slowly insane.

"this one first," mason says, gently placing one of oscar's front paws through the hole of his red harness. he beams at oscar, pulling his other paw through as the dog stares back at him willingly. he clips the harness together at both sides, adjusting it over his body to fit him comfortably. satisfied, he plants a kiss over the fur on his head, standing from his knees.

"do you not think it's a bit too cold for him today?" you say, zipping up your jacket. mason moving in with Ben meant you hardly ever had the house alone on date nights anymore, mason intruding some nights, sneaking in to steal the snacks. you loved having him around more-he was like a brother to you.

"He’ll be fine," mason says, running his hand over Oscar's fur. "we won't be out for long."

"y/n is right, mase, we could just leave it 'till tomorrow." ben states, walking into the hallway from the kitchen. bens hugged into a blue puffer coat, accompanied by grey joggers as usual.

mason frowns, now connecting Oscar's lead to his harness. he shakes his head in protest, hand gripped around the handle ready to get started on the walk.

"I said we won't be too long. our boy needs a walk so he'll get one."

ben rolls his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips. you smile, a giggle threatening to escape. you manage to stop it as you turn to face away from him to avoid any confrontation. you knew he hated whenever mason called oscar theirs instead of bens, but he let it slide every time. you could see it bubbling up inside, and eventually, he'll explode.

"well, let's take our dog for a walk then." ben agrees, walking over to mason and Oscar who're waiting by the front door. He raises his hand to take a hold of the lead from mason, but mason tugs it away from him towards his chest.

"well come on then, let me take him." he says, eyebrows furrowed as he wiggles his fingers back and forth for mason to pass Oscar over to him. mason shakes his head, stepping back away from him.

"It’s my turn to hold his lead." the boy says, staring blankly at ben.

you watch as the boys continue to bicker, arms folded. you're zipped up, scarf wrapped around your neck with matching gloves over your hands to keep the warmth in. it had been snowing the previous night, the frost still lingering in the air with snow still spilled over the pavements, glistening from trees and covering any patch of grass there once was.

"You're being childish," he replies, throwing his arms to the side. bens cheeks are flushes as he grows heated, anger building.

"no, you're being childish ben. look at him, he just wants to get going. now move from the door and we'll leave."

Ben moves his eyes from mason and down to oscar who stares blankly back at him. he sits on the marble floor, eyes sunken as he waits, bored, for his owners to stop squabbling.

"yes, because he looks so excited." ben mocks, snickering.

unable to stand the boys' pathetic dispute and feeling sorry for poor oscar, you step forward closer to them, taking the lead out of masons hand.

"How about I hold him this time? will that settle you both?" you question rhetorically, stepping back towards the door. your fingers fiddle with the lock before it unlatches, the door opening.

"whatever. you're so annoying." mason huffs. he follows as you and Oscar step outside and into the bitter air, Ben locking the door behind the four of you. a smile tugs at his lips as he finds your gaze, his feet crunching in the snow as he speed walks to catch up to you. fingers interlocking with yours, he squeezes your hand as though to thank you from masons constant bicker.

after ten or so minutes, the four of you are halfway through your daily route. Oscar carries a stick in his mouth, his paws leaving tiny adorable marks in the snow as you trudge along. bens arm is hooked to yours as you huddle together, breathe fogging up in front of you as you breathe. you're still clung on to Oscar's lead, the boys calmed down only moments after setting off. the conversation leaping from topic to topic- christmas plans to the boys final games of the year and finally to mason mocking a 'christmas proposal.'

"we don't even live together yet mase," you reply, eyebrows raised as mason cackles at his own remarks.

"you should move in with us. the more the merrier I say." ben suggests half jokingly, he nudges your side as he tilts his head, nose gleaming red through the winter air.

"And get in the way of you three playing happy families? respectfully, no thank you." you all laugh, the chorus echoing around the three of you.

"at least oscar won't have to deal with triple custody." ben chuckles, aiming his words at mason as they walk side by side in a line. mason pouts, shoving his hands in his coat pockets to heat them up a little. "And what's that supposed to mean?" mason inquires, dragging his feet along in the snow.

you look at ben, him instantly turning to you, eyes widening. here we go again, you think, ben reciprocating the thought.

"nothing," ben starts, "but you're a bit over the top when it comes to oscar. he's not even yours. not really. He's mine."

"Ben!" You gasp, returning the nudge he gave you earlier. although it was true, you knew he'd hurt masons feelings. he loved Oscar and adored caring for him, but agreed that he sometimes thought he was continuously in charge of him.

"no, he's ours." mason protests. He stops, you and ben copying him as you notice he's no longer by your side after a couple of steps. oscar tugs at the lead, sitting in the snow once he learns his owners have come to a halt. his stick pokes out of his mouth, eyes studying the park and the white trees that surround him.

"boys come on, I don't think oscar-" you're cut off by a stroppy ben, who has let go of the hook around your arm. he places one hand on his side, the sass oozing out of his stance. "He's mine. And I bet he loves me more."

"Absolutely not," mason snaps, wailing his hands in front of him. "he loves me more." you're stood between the pair, lip tugged at one side, eyebrows furrowing. this was such a silly fight, but one you know Ben would happily have for his fur baby. ben nods towards oscar, who's now lay unbothered, chewing on the stick, fur covered in snow.

"well there's only one way to find out." mason deflates, his eyes rolling. he knew exactly what Ben was suggesting, and with him having a couple years extra with oscar, he knew he was losing this battle.

"Mase, you go stand over there," ben points to a tree, a couple of feet away from where they stood. "And I'll stand over opposite you. y/n, put oscy in the middle, and whoever he runs to, he loves the most."

you sigh, watching as pair disperse to their allocates areas. bending down to oscar, you pat him on the back sympathetically. "daddy and uncle mase are arguing oscy," you whisper, taking his stick and shoving it in your coat pocket for later. "I think mommy should adopt you. but don't tell daddy I said that." you scoop him up into your arms, carrying him over to the middle of the boys.

"okay, on the count of three," mason shouts, hands cupped around his mouth. "one," you place oscar down, he sits staring at you as you hold your hands out to him to stop him running prematurely. "two," ben shouts. he's stood, knees bent with his hands on his knees, ready to call oscar over to him.

"three."

you step away from the dog, allowing him to do his own thing. ben yells oscar's name repeatedly, mason whistles and claps to get his attention. oscar doesn't move an inch, still sat staring at you as you stand back from the scene. he moves his head either side of him, shooting both boys a glance before laying down in the snow. he rests his head on his paws, nose barely touching the cold snow.

you laugh, observing as both boys squint at the dog, huffing as he does nothing.

"he's not moving," ben states, pointing at the dog sprawled in the middle. mason places a hand to the back of his head, scratching his scalp awkwardly as he waits for something to happen.

"maybe if we try once more," he calls over, nodding as to convince himself his plan will work.

once again, ben bends his knees, hands patting on his thighs to invite his furry friend over. "here oscy, come to daddy," he shrieks repeatedly.

mason clicks his fingers, whistles some more and howls to try and attract him, but nothing works.

defeated, the pair rejoin in the middle, either side of Oscar. you waddle over them, hands tugged into your pockets. "You weren't supposed to do that," ben says, crouching to him, fingers running through his fur. Mason joins him, his hand patting him on the head.

"I told you he's our dog. He loves us both equally," mason beams, booping the dog on his nose. Oscar stands, tail wagging as his paws dig in the snow. "he was protesting," you giggle, watching as oscar starts to play. "he told me that he doesn't like it when daddy and uncle mase fight over him.”

ben looks up at you, lips tucked into his mouth as he shakes his head before he returns to his feet, pushing you playfully once he's up. "Give over you. he just didn't want to hurt uncle mason's feelings." ben pouts mockingly at mason, wiping fake tears away from his eyes.

mason jumps up, his smile reaching his eyes. He scoops some snow into his hands and tosses it at ben. the snow splatters on his coat, ben watching as mason laughs. "you absolute jokester," ben chuckles, shaking his head at mason whose bent over double with laughter.

"have we done kissing and making up now? It's absolutely freezing." you pick up Oscar's lead and grip the handle, shivering underneath your thick cotton coat. you return his stick to his mouth, his tail waggling quickly from side to side whilst his eyes light up at the sight of his wooden friend.

ben hooks his arm to yours again, burying his chin into his coat. as the four of you start to walk back home, crunching your way through the think snow mason whines. "Can I hold his lead now?" you both look at him, unable to read if he was being serious. suddenly, mason bursts into hysteria once more, pointing at the pair of you.

"Honestly, your faces." he chuckles, dimples showing.

"But seriously, next time it's my turn."

#chelsea #england nt #ben chilwell #mason mount #mount #chilwell #mason mount imagine #mason mount fluff #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell fluff #mason mount fanfic #ben chilwell fanfic #england nt imagine #football imagine #england #mm19 #fluff #football

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whumping-every-day · 4 years

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ANON ASKED: Now I kinda wanna see the first time the new harness gets implemented. Ash's fear, Callum's resignation that it has to be done. Perhaps some struggling and hyperventilation once its on or as the straps are being buckled. Good, juicy stuff.

I’m sorry Anon, the format is being fucky for me with asks right now. I had to copy and paste your question and make a new post. I wrote this instead of going to bed; I hope that you enjoy!

A follow up to This

Content Warnings! Allusions to noncon, degrading language, dehumanization, noncon bondage (muzzle, collar, harness), obedience and trust, the blurriest possible line between whumping and caretaking, hunting dog whumpee.

“What’s the matter?” The jeering tone is at odds with the quivering, wet eyes in front of him. “Did you finally find something your bitch won’t tolerate?”

Callum inhales slowly, and Ash blinks, sends tears spilling down his cheeks. “What did I fucking tell you people?” Callum turns just enough to glare, not relinquishing his grip on the vampire’s quivering shoulder. He gives a little squeeze; the gentleness he can manage. A wordless it will be okay.

Callum has been very clear these last few missions that he has no intentions of sharing. And he’s been very clear that he doesn’t need their commentary.

“Fucking freaks.” It’s the same few men as usual, the ones that like to linger, the ones that like to watch Ash a little too closely. It takes more now, each time, to make them back off.

“You’d better thank your fucking stars that this freak is on our side.” Callum intentionally ignores the way they’d included him in their insults.

Ash is only halfway into the new leather harness, and already he’s panting in unconscious terror. It’s a restrictive device; the larger straps go around his torso and over his shoulders, and there are buckles in the back where his arms can be buckled tightly against one another.

He hasn’t tried to escape, and Callum knows by now that he won’t. But the vampire is hyperventilating, even though he doesn’t need to breathe, and he’s already muzzled, so he begs with its eyes. The collar is laced up firmly around his neck, wide enough to almost function as a brace.

Before they’d left, Ash had said the wider grip was comforting.

“I know, bud,” Callum whispers to him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. This has to happen.” He steps into the vampire’s space, holds an arm out, and Ash folds into him. The vampire’s skinny shoulders fit readily against Callum’s breadth, and the hunter can feel him trembling.

From behind them, someone wolf-whistles. Callum’s grip on the vampire tightens, and Ash whimpers, nosing his muzzled cheek into Callum’s chest.

“I know you’re frightened.” Callum holds him for a moment, lifts a hand to rest on Ash’s mess of curls. “I need you to be good. Just for a little while longer.” Callum feels the way Ash pauses, and then, an echoing heartbeat later, the resignation in the way he slumps.

His arms are already in the leather straps, trapped behind his back, but the buckles are still undone, slack. Callum lifts a hand to the straps, and Ash’s breath hitches.

“You can do this,” Callum murmurs. Then, softer, “I won’t let anything hurt you.” Anything or anyone.

Ash shudders against him, but the vampire pulls in a deep breath, and lets it out in a gusty whine. He’s still trembling, but when Callum carefully grips his elbow and gently pulls it higher behind his back, into place, he’s pliant. Tears soak through Callum’s shirt as he does the buckles up, one at a time, cinching the creature’s arms together and up, till there’s no give left and he can’t move his arms without moving his whole torso.

For a split second, as the last buckle tightens, Ash cries out and bucks. Callum catches him, finishes tightening the last strap.

When he’s finished, Ash’s fingertips touch his elbows. It’s a new kind of helplessness, to not be able to move his hands, and to be blindfolded on a lead at the same time.

But the others had had complaints, after the first mission. Docility, they said, was worth nothing if not enforced.

So Callum clips the leash back onto the ring on the front of the harness and straightens.

As he always does when he’s terrified, Ash’s attention it fixed on Callum. He whimpers and sways when Callum releases him, takes a stumbling half-step after him. Callum gently guides him closer using the lead. The pressure is evenly distributed by the harness, and absently Ash thinks that it will be nice to be leashed this way, if one of the others tries to yank on it again.

He obeys the pressure, then folds to his knees at Callum’s feet, the lead swinging loose between them. He leans shamelessly against the hunter’s thigh, and one of those familiar, calloused hands settles at his nape, just above his collar.

To anyone else, it’s submission and a possessive display. To Ash, it just feels safe.

Callum cups his jaw, tolerates his whimpering until the very last second, until it’s time to go. Then the blindfold is fitted back over his eyes, and Ash is plunged back into perfect darkness.

He stumbles, at first, following at Callum’s heel. It’s harder to transverse the terrain without his arms, and the vampire is flooded with dread because now it’s slowing them down, even though Callum had been lenient and chosen leather bindings, and it should be able to fucking walk-

"You’re doing fine, little one.” It’s quiet, just for them. “Just follow the lead.” There’s a faint change in pressure on the harness, and Ash adjust to it. Callum’s got the leash wound short, and Ash is grateful. Every inch of freedom is an inch of room for him to make a mistake.

In the end, the hunt goes as well as it could have; they corner the beast they’ve been chasing, and Ash spends four minutes on his knees, tethered loosely to a tree with his blindfold off, trembling while Callum and the others do battle with a wild boar three times the size of Callum’s horse.

When it’s done, Ash is so relieved that he spends the entire evening clinging to Callum’s ankle while the men sit around the fire. He’s blindfolded for the duration, curled on the ground at Callum’s feet, but he doesn’t mind.

He still hears the things they say about him. He doesn’t want to see the looks.

But Callum keeps him close all throughout, always a hand on his hair or shoulder or leash, always holding onto him somehow. Some of the others make comments, and Callum rebuffs them, only responding to questions about hunting and occasionally his research.

It’s a strange sort of peace, Ash thinks as they drift off to sleep, once again hidden under tents as the sun rises. He’s muzzled like a hunting dog and hooded like a falcon, and like both of those animals, all he has to do is as he’s told. He gets to be helpful this way, gets to have a real, tangible use.

He even gets used to the leather harness and not having the use of his arms, after a while.

It is good to have a purpose. And, Ash thinks, much more guiltily, it is nice to sleep so close to someone else. There is only one tent, and Ash gets to sleep curled up at the base of the hunter’s bedroll, with a blanket of his own. The muzzle is the only thing that stays on, and even that is loosened for the night.

When Callum gently nudges him awake the next morning, the creature wakes in a flinch. But then it remembers and immediately turns soft and apologetic. Callum just hushes him softly, spends a few minutes stroking his hair and telling him how good he’s been.

By the time they part ways with the others, Ash is almost as comfortable without his sight as with it. He responds to the slightest change in Callum’s directions like a fine-tuned weapon might, and yet still folds under the smallest direction like paper.

When Callum finally gets him home, he spends over an hour slowly, gently taking his gear off and rubbing at any soreness that might have developed in his arms.

This time when Callum tells him what a good boy he was, how well he did, how proud Callum is, he means it.

#whump #obedience #trust #fear #dehumanization #collar #muzzle #blindfold

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ds-ts-smut-fics · 4 years

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Cave Boys [Chapter One]

Edit: Please tell me if the ‘read more’ isn’t working because this is the third time I tried adding it in and on our blog, it shows, but when I see it on my dash it isn’t there. I’m really sorry if it’s still not working.

Synopsis: While exploring, Logan finds an unknown cave. He’s too curious for his own good and wanders inside, only to be kidnapped by monsters and taken to their civilization as a prize to be sold to the highest bidder.

Genre: Logan-centric whump with a happy ending for all, NSFW, romantic intrulogical, parental loceit, parental logicality, romantic moceit, background romantic prinxiety

Trigger warnings (for the entire fic): Angst and whump, blood, gore, kidnapping, monsters, human in a cage, human in a collar, human on a leash, I think maybe technically body horror?, implied unsympathetic Janus, implied unsympathetic Virgil (neither of them is unsympathetic they’re both just assholes lol), human slavery, human being treated as property, human up for sale, threats, eventual non-con, lots of bullying, poverty

Trigger warnings (for this chapter): Traps, ankle injuries, knives that go unused, suicidal speech, talk of a person ‘fading’ (very briefly and it doesn’t happen), arguing and insults, implied poverty

Word count: 6171

Written by: Claire and Virgil

Edited by: Virgil

A/N: Hi, I played Janus and if you ask me where his personality comes from, I have no answer ~Mod Virgil

When Logan was upset, he explored the forest by his house.

The woods spread over hundreds of miles. They were covered in towering pines, ground in thick moss and large boulders. There were plenty of places of interest marked out and documented— Hot springs, caves, clearings, ponds.

Logan had visited all of them.

It got to the point where he merely wandered, focusing on landmarks instead of the people who upset him, who had once again let him down. After all, he had to be able to find his way home. A few times he got lost in the forest for longer than desired.

He was several hours into his hike, in a direction he had never been before, when he came across an undocumented cave. He checked every centimetre of his map- The one he updated every night -but no one knew of its existence.

Humming, he flicked on his light, circling the area just in case, and making a note of the find in his journal before stepping in carefully, eyes wide with wonder. “Stupendous…."

The entrance of the cave was made of high ceilings and jagged walls covered in moss. The gurgling of running water from somewhere to his left echoed through the room, and straight across, through a narrow crack in the wall, was something… Glowing. Glittering, even, shining with purple, pink, yellow, and blue.

Gasping softly, he crept carefully towards the crack, a small shiver running down his spine. "Were I more superstitious, I would say this is a fairy ring or some nonsense… how does it shimmer like that though!” Reaching out, he slipped some gloves on to touch the nearest one, the darkest blue he’d ever seen.

It was… So warm. Warm and beautiful. What was this rock- No, crystal? If he got some of it back home, he could test it… He’d have to get through the crack to harvest some of it.

Leaning out a little further, he grunted. The moment he stumbled out of the crack, metal slid against metal, and as bars flipped upward to lock him in a claustrophobic cage, pain exploded in his ankle as something clamped around it. Cheers sounded nearby.

A terrified yelp spilled from his lips as he pushed and pulled at the metal. What’s going on?!

Thick, hairy hands curl around the bars of the cage, the metal screeching along the stone floor as Logan was hauled into the darkness.

“That’s four for me,” the voice closest to him grunts, “and none for you. Have you noticed that? I have.”

His hands flew to his ears. He quickly lost track of where he was, darkness and the long strides of whoever, or whatever, now had him, making it impossible. The screaming pain in his ankle had hardly subsided by the time the moving finally stopped. The only direction Logan was certain he went in was down. He started to realize why this place wasn’t marked on the map.

“Do him like the other humans, there should be an open spot close to the city,” the same voice ordered. “I’ll go update the books.”

His heart sunk. He flinched back as a long arm reached for him. The monster tugged at him even as he kicked with his unbound leg, fumbling in his pockets for his knife and swiping. “Get the hell away! Let me go!!”

The thing laughed gleefully as its slim form easily avoided his slashes. “You know,” it clamped down on Logan’s injured ankle, pain forming black spots in his vision, “those stupid crystal things were the best thing we’ve ever done for our jobs. Made things so much easier.”

Logan snarled, certain that if he could just get one hit in, it would be fine. Maybe he’d even wake up, bed sheets wrapped around his ankles instead of this millipede nightmare.

“If you don’t stop struggling,” it sang, “you’ll never be able to use that ankle again.” It squeezed tighter, digging the metal further into his flesh, Logan’s vision turning white.

He screamed and fell limp.

The thing dragged him forward by his ankle and slapped something against his neck. It crumpled and curled around like a collar, but the material was some type of metal Logan didn’t recognize. It almost… Harnessed heat. The longer it stuck to his skin, the more it burned, like holding your hand too close to fire without touching it.

It clipped a chain on the collar and dragged Logan across the dirt floor. Logan will never forget the things he saw as it led him further into the cave system.

It brought him down to an area with square holes cut in the walls, light seeping into the makeshift hallway. What could only be described as monsters peeked through the windows, watching Logan with expressions he couldn’t recognize. There was occasional hissing, chirping, incoherent English mumbling… But not a human in sight.

Slumped in the larger pen, he tried to put together what had happened for a long time after the creature left, he finally had looked down to see the bloody mess his ankle was, and the trap attached to it. It throbbed with his panicked heartbeat ever since he had given up getting it off.

“You’re such a bitch, you know that?”

An androgynous voice, sounding almost-human, echoed down the hall as two pairs of footsteps headed for his cage. Were they human? Were they going to save him?

Shifting to his feet, Logan carefully hopped back a little. A soft whine left his lips as he imagined the horror to come.

“What?! I’m a bitch?!” A louder tone answered, an almost trill to the end echoing off the cavern walls. “You!” The voice sputtered, as if trying and failing to defend itself. “You’re not even looking at me, fang boy!”

“I don’t have to look at you to know you’re a moron. You’ve tripped over more rocks than me, and I’m fucking blind.”

Two figures came into Logan’s vision. One of them was biped, and looked vaguely humanoid, but a long snout protruded from its face and in place of nails, long, black talons curled. They were sharp enough to slit Logan’s throat. The thing’s eyes, for what tiny slits they were, had no colour.

Gesturing with a broad swipe, the second figure proclaimed loudly, “So, I wanted to be fashionable and pretty for the new arrivals, Count Woe-laff! So sue me!"

“Count… Who?”

Logan gingerly hopped out of range of the claws and the cloak the louder one wore. It floated and fluttered, as if it sat on a tide. Eyes lifting to meet Logan’s, the loud one found a rock and went down hard. He squeezed out a pained breath.

The badger thing slapped a paw to its face, right above his snout. “God, you are such a moron.” It knelt down and wrapped a paw around the other’s wrist, and for a moment Logan thought those talons were going to draw blood, but the thing helped its counterpart up and patted its back roughly.

Huffing, it dusted off, just now noticing Logan. "So, I missed a safety measure or three. Did you see-? Oh! There’s a human!"

A deep rumble fell from the badger boy’s throat, presumably a laugh. “No, I don’t see. But do you know how I know anyway? Because I listen when we’re given orders.”

The two of them stopped in front of Logan’s cage. The badger held large, flat pieces of stone and ran a single talon along it. The nail wormed its way between all the grooves and indentations, face clenched in concentration.

“Logan?” It tried. “Did I say that right? You’re listed as male, is that correct?”

Mouth opening a few times, Logan managed after a few moments, "I… Yes? How do you know that?! I haven't… There weren’t any questions asked!”

“Everything I have here is first impressions, things our superiors could tell from sight. My name is Virgil, and the idiot back there is Roman. He uses he/him, I use they/them. What do you use?” They cocked their head towards Roman and mumbled, “Did I ask that correctly?”

Roman snorted softly. “I’m not an idiot, V!"

"Yes, a bit stiff and formal, but basically correct. I prefer he/him pronouns and my name is Logan. Why am I here? Can either of you get this device off of my leg?!” He balanced, using a part of the cage furthest from the two beings, uncertainty clouding his mind.

“You were unlucky,” Virgil answered, and then the rest of Logan’s words caught up with them. They snapped something in a language Logan didn’t understand, in the same implication of one spitting out a chain of curses, and asked, “Damnit, Roman, did they leave that fucking thing on again?”

“Looks like it. They pushed it in, too! Even when they struggle, that’s just mean!” Lilting sounds left his lips in much the same implied tone. “We have to get closer to get it off.”

“I’ll do it. Just make sure he doesn’t escape.” Virgil gave Roman the tablets and pulled a set of keys from one of their many pockets. They spoke as they unlocked the door. “Roman and I are assigned to guard you when you’re on good behaviour. If you act out too much, we can’t help, and you won’t like where you end up.” They knelt in front of Logan and pat the ground. “Put your ankle right here. You’re going to have to trust us, and accept the situation.”

Slowly pushing off the wall, Logan carefully slid to where Virgil indicated, voice soft and stubbornly resigned. “Do I have a choice? I don’t know where ‘here’ is or how to get home, even if I thought that I could walk or climb to get there.”

“You’re smarter than most humans they catch.” Virgil slipped a talon into a slot on the device, a thin tongue poking between their lips. They plunged the talon deeper, and the device popped off, ripping off some of Logan’s skin with it.

“FUCK! That hurts!” He groaned. He tugged his foot close and rocked, pressing at the bleeding parts of his foot. He glared. “What good does being smart do me? I’m still here.”

“I’m sorry.” They sounded genuine. “I didn’t want to warn you, it would have just freaked you out.” Virgil stood and left the cage, closing and locking the door behind them. They took the tablets back from Roman. “We don’t have a lot of human food. Do you have… Uh, fuck, what did that girl call it? Come on, Roman, speak up, you know way more about humans than I do.”

Roman jumped a little. “Which girl, the one that had those little bars in her bag or the one that said she couldn’t eat nuts?”

“The one who couldn’t eat nuts. She said it’d kill her. We weren’t aware humans weren’t able to eat all human foods. That’s so fucking weird… You guys are fucking weird, you know that?”

“Those are called allergies. Sensitivity in differing degrees to parts of our environment. I don’t have an allergy to anything. That I’ve encountered so far at least?”

A horrible grating sound sliced through the air as Virgil noted that down with their talon. “And how old are you? We’ve tried guessing age before but another thing humans are fucking weird with, you guys don’t look the same ever.”

Covering his ears, Logan gritted his teeth. “Twenty- I’m twenty years old.”

Virgil noted that down as well and, to Logan’s immense relief, pocketing the tablets. “Okay. So what’s gonna happen is I’m gonna grab you some food while Princey here watches you, then-”

“VIRGIL! ROMAN!” An impatient voice echoed through the corridor, rapidly coming closer. “I’M HERE TO MEET THE NEW HUMAN!”

“Get lost, Janus,” Virgil growled. “The human’s not open for meet and greets yet!”

Logan hissed softly, pushing back against the wall. No more new things…

At first glance, the rapidly approaching creature looked human. It almost startled hope in Logan, until it came into the light.

It was not human.

Its skin was ghostly pale in the spaces it wasn’t covered in shimmering green scales. Its eyes were slit like a snake’s, its fangs poking out between its lips. It had similar talons to Virgil’s, but a fraction of the length and looked almost manicured.

A dazzling grin slid across its face as its eyes landed on Logan. “Oh, hello darling.” It frowned, gaze dropping to his ankle. “Oh, dear, did these two do that to you?”

Virgil shoved the thing. “You can’t keep doing this every fucking time a human arrives. Just because you meet them first doesn’t mean anyone can guarantee you a lower price.”

“P-Price?!” Logan trembled. “You mean I’m to be sold… Like property?!” His vision swam. He curled up tight around his injured limb, rocking slowly as he panicked. “Maybe I should just fucking run… Hope I find a damn cliff or something’s claw…”

All three of them jumped in visible panic, jumping over each other to discourage him.

“-horrible, horrible idea-”

“-please, darling, you’ll only get hurt-”

“-you won’t make it far enough and the punishment will make you regret trying-”

The snake thing wrapped a hand around one of the bars. “I know it looks bleak now, but if you trust me, convince the others that I would be the best buyer… You’ll be happy they took you in the first place.”

Logan laughed with a snort. “Why the fuck would I want something like that?!”

“You’re going to confuse him,” Virgil growled. “Don’t make him think he has any say. Just go and wait for his display day, okay?”

“You’ll look fabulous! And certainly end up with a better owner than snake lips there!” Roman blocked the view with his body, winking.

“I can make you happy!” It insisted. “Please, don’t listen to them! My name is Janus. What’s yours? Let me get to know you, darling.”

“Happy?! Go suck an egg and choke.” Turning, Logan tugged at his ankle, turning to Virgil. “Is there any medical treatment? Water? Clean cloth?”

“Yes, I’ll bring you water with your dinner. Roman, did you-”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Janus did not seem sorry, “but I’m not familiar with that human expression? Was that- Was-”

“You were rejected,” Virgil said flatly. “When are you going to accept that no one wants you?”

“I don’t trust any of you and I don’t like this one bit,” Logan muttered softly.

Janus hesitated, then spun on his heels and left.

Virgil sighed. “Roman, did you remember the gauze?”

Producing a roll from a bag on his hip, Roman nodded. "Of course!”

Virgil took it and unlocked the cage again. “I’ll go grab your food after I get this wrapped up, okay? Did they hurt you anywhere else?” They sat and patted the same spot on the floor.

Slowly stretching out again, Logan thought. “The collar-thing felt like it was burning… But I don’t think so?” Looking at his hands, he hummed.

“Bruises on his hands at least,” Roman piped up, “probably all over from those damn cages.”

Virgil wrapped Logan’s ankle and held out their paws, palms up. “Give me your hands.”

Carefully, Logan held them out, palm down. “What is the purpose of taking humans? What use are we to you?”

“It’s different for each buyer.” Virgil’s dark skin was surprisingly soft as their fingers rubbed along Logan’s palms. “The simple answer is that there’s a huge market for it. There are rumours that people buy humans because they want to take out their anger at being locked down here while you all are free up there, but I think that’s bullshit. We could go up there if we wanted, we just don’t. I think the people who think that are cowards.”

Logan snorted. “Everything I’ve seen here is like a cross between a fantasy tale and a nightmare… Things most people don’t believe even exist! There’s no way there’s a lock or force keeping you here! That’s just not logical!"

“Exactly.” Virgil grinned, squeezing Logan’s hands. “You walked right in, didn’t you? What’s stopping the ones desiring to walk right out?”

"Well… I was exploring, curious. I rather fell in? It was a doorway, though!” He blushed, thinking back. “Seems it was a trap, though, from what they said.”

“Yeah,” Virgil mumbled as they rose to their feet. “It’s those crystals. Humans go crazy for them. The severity depends on the person, but it just makes you want to know… Everything about them. And you’ll put that priority over any others.” Virgil slipped out of the cage, then shut and locked the doors. “Humans are so stupid,” they sighed, and left to get Logan’s food.

Logan curled in on himself. Did I upset them? “Oh…"

Roman hummed softly and slipped into place at the door. "Should we get you more coverings? Are you too cold?"

Pausing, Logan shook his head. Virgil came back a while later with a tray of what looked close to oatmeal, and a few bottles of water. They slid it through a gap in the bars, towards the bottom.

“You should try to sleep after you eat.” They shoved a thick roll of cloth through as well. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day. You’re going to meet one of our superiors, and she’ll be preparing you for your display day. Please, please obey us, and obey her. If you misbehave, Roman and I will not be able to help you.”

"I… Okay, I’ll do my best. Thank you for the advice. What- What exactly is a display day?"

“One of our superiors will take you to the city, along with some other humans, and, well, put you on display. People come by to meet you and look at you, and bids will start.”

"Oh… Has anyone ever… Gone home?”

Virgil hesitated, expression darkening. “You mean… Left the cave?”

“Yes. Is there a chance that I will ever see the surface again?” He raised his head to watch the expression of this strangely compassionate being. “Will I ever see my home again… Or am I here until I die?”

“Don’t ask questions like that,” Virgil hissed. “That’s exactly the kind of thing that will land you in a place you don’t want to be in. I’m sorry, I’m sure it must be hard to accept, but this is your best option now.”

“Oh…" His head dipped, resting on his knees. "That tells me what I need to know, I guess.”

“It’ll be okay,” Virgil promised. “If you’re smart, you can find yourself a good owner who’ll make you happy.” They looked over their shoulder. “Roman, will you set up our tent? I’m taking second watch tonight.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Been setting it up as you two gossips talked, guess you really are blind, batboy!”

Virgil looked at them incredulously. “Do you think I’m exaggerating when I say I’m blind?”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh softly, a hand muffling the sound as Roman teased in that other language, causing Virgil to swipe at him.

Virgil finally just rolled their eyes. “Goodnight, Roman. Don’t be stupid, wake me up for my shift, okay?”

He huffed softly. “Fine… Sleep well, emo nightmare!”

“Goodnight, Logan. Let Roman know if you need something.” Virgil ducked into the tent and zipped it up behind them.

Logan spent most of the night struggling to sleep. The blanket Virgil gave him barely softened the hard stone floor, and every time he fell asleep for a few minutes, he jerked awake, body insisting he was in danger. Eventually, he settled for leaning against the back wall of the enclosure and mentally reciting the constellations to try and remain calm. At some point he must have passed out, because he jerked awake when the door opened, an unfamiliar voice speaking with the two guards from earlier.

“How has he been behaving?” The feminine voice asked.

“Perfectly,” Virgil said dryly. “Just went right to bed last night, didn’t even think about escaping.”

“Hmm. That’s perfect. Have you noticed anything strange about him, anything to take note of?”

Roman chuckled. “He seems quite intelligent, if a bit scared. The first crew beat him up a bit and I’m not sure if he’s having issues from that first handling?”

“Hmm,” she sounded indifferent, “I’ll check when we get him to the tailor. We’ll definitely have to market his intelligence, most humans are so dumb.”

Slowly pushing up, Logan hummed softly as dread crept into his stomach. Watching her body language for clues, he steeled himself for whatever she might do to ‘display’ him.

She talked with the two a little longer. She looked remarkably similar to Virgil.

She unlocked the cage door and beckoned Logan forward. “Are you awake? Come here, please.”

“I am.” Standing, he slowly approached, watching those long claws carefully. “Am I allowed to speak, ma'am?”

Her barely-there eyes widened a bit. “Wow, you guys weren’t kidding. He is smart. Yes, Logan, you can speak, but keep it to a minimum. I presume Virgil and Roman told you where you’ll go when you misbehave, and I feel it’s important to tell you that our rules and their rules will not be the same.”

“What are those rules, ma'am? I would prefer to avoid punishment if possible.” Gulping as she approached, he fought not to run.

She gracefully slid her talons under his collar and brought him closer, clipping on a chain. She gently tugged, like beckoning a dog, and stepped out of the cage.

“The obvious ones,” she told him as they walked through the dark corridors, Roman and Virgil flanking them, “like don’t try to escape, don’t be rude, don’t attack anyone. Any others, you have permission to break once, since you won’t know, then any time after that you’ll be assigned new guards.”

He nodded. If he were to break any rules, it would certainly be fighting back or being rude. “Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.”

“You’re very welcome, Logan. You’re very polite.”

She took them down a route Logan didn’t recognize, and seemingly all at once, the cave walls turned into carved out homes, the narrow hall opened up into a huge cavern bustling with noise, and he was surrounded in life. It was a complete city, underground, and crawling with monsters. “Roman, please visit the office and update the books while Virgil and I bring him to the tailor.”

Smiling wide, Roman saluted. He took the tablets from Virgil before turning with a flourish. “Certainly! I’ll meet back up with you there!"

Virgil’s boss led him through the city. Despite her lack of vision, she never ran into anyone or anything. She brought them to a tiny little building made of jagged rock, some of the door crumbling as she pulled it open.

“Go in, now.”

Stumbling slightly, Logan ducked inside. His eyes slowly adjusted to the lowered light. He could barely make out a small shop with piles of fabrics, some chains and restraints on the walls. "H-Hello?"

Scratching sounded as a figure rounded the mounds, low syllabant voice purring as wings and claws came into view. "Greetings, human… Hand over the chain, Sylvia? I need to see all of him easily, you know!”

A griffin.

Sylvia chuckled and passed it over. “He’s very intelligent, so we’ll need an outfit to highlight that, Rose, make sure everyone who sees him knows.”

Rose’s paw looped the chain over a stand as she drew him in closer. “So I see… His eyes are watching everything. Maybe if we highlight them….” Grabbing some materials, she draped them to check the shade. She sketched concepts with soft mutters. “Scholar… Robes?”

Sylvia hummed appreciatively and found a seat. Virgil stood guard by the door. “Yes, I’m sure that’ll work,” Sylvia said.

“Of course, darling, I AM the best!” Moving Logan with firm but gentle paws, she measured and worked on creating a heavy-looking robe with colours that complimented his features. It made him look wise, and yet hampered movement so he wasn’t tempted to run. Showing him off when she finished, she motioned for Logan to turn. “I would add some makeup for those eyes if you really want him to sell at mark up, sweetie!”

“I’ll mention that to the stylist tomorrow. I trust you’ve done a wonderful job, if there’s anything the boss has to say I’ll bring him back before closing hours.”

She stood and pulled a few gems out of the bag at her hip. One of them was an amethyst, but Logan didn’t recognize the rest. She held them out in Rose’s general direction.

Taking the stones, Rose purred and traded them for Logan’s chain. “A pleasure as always!”

“Virgil, come take this.” She held out the chain, and Virgil felt around until they found her wrist, and felt their way to the end of the chain. “Wait outside for Roman, then get him back to his cage and make him something to eat. I’m going to make sure the work on his display cage is going smoothly.”

“Sure.” They gestured for Logan to follow, taking it on faith that Logan saw and tugging him out the door.

Logan stumbled as he adjusted to the change in leading style. “Virgil?”

Sylvia passed them outside and disappeared into the crowd of people. Virgil leaned against the wall of the tailor. “What’s up?”

“Just a question. Am I to wear this outfit only for presentation, or is this to be my new daily attire?” Logan touched the navy fabric, careful not to mess it up.

“We’re just fitting you for your display day. After we get the boss’ approval, you’ll change back into your original clothes and we’ll keep that safe until everything’s ready. Why?”

“Oh… They are much warmer than what I currently have. The space I was in, it’s colder than I’m used to?"

Virgil stepped forward and clumsily rubbed one of their paws over the side of Logan’s face. “Hm. You’re right, I don’t think humans’ skin is supposed to be this cold. I’ll grab you a hoodie when I get your breakfast. Jesus, do you see Princey anywhere? He’s so fucking distractable.”

Shivering, Logan leaned into the touch. "Mmm…"

Roman scoffed softly, coming up behind Virgil. "Petting him without me, V? You’re bonding nicely!”

They dropped their paw with a sigh. “He’s cold. You should carry him back. Body heat should be able to warm him up just as well as fabric.”

“Oh!” Stepping in, Roman scooped Logan up after a quick consideration on how to position him. “Okay! He’s so light… Are they supposed to be this small?”

Virgil shrugged as they made their way back. “I don’t know. Like I said, humans almost never look the same. Feel below his chest, can you feel his ribs through his skin?”

Logan squeaked as Roman poked at him. “I am not underweight!”

“Just let Roman check,” Virgil sighed. “We need to make sure we’re feeding you correctly.”

Blushing a bright red, Logan nodded and tried to relax.

Roman hummed softly. “Not easily… Skinny but like just not a lot of natural padding? He is super cold though… Shivering.”

“Yeah, like I said, you gotta warm him up. Use friction.”

Chuckling, Roman cuddled Logan close, hands sliding under his clothes to rub gently. “Got it, V!”

They brought him back to his holding cage, Virgil holding out his old clothes. “Go ahead and get changed, I need those.”

Turning for modesty even though he knew it was useless, Logan nodded. He held out the robes to Roman. “Here… Might I request something warm for food? It helps.”

“Of course. We have some soups that are safe for humans. I’ll be right back.”

Roman grinned and settled Logan in his lap, stroking gently. “Soooo… Do you want to talk while V’s doing the boring stuff?”

He blushed and cuddled into Roman’s chest. “Sure?”

“Awesome!” Petting Logan’s hair, he bounced a little. “So, what do you do for fun? Do you live alone? 20 is above the age of leaving your parent’s territory, right?”

“It varies from person to person. It’s not an abnormal time to be on your own.” He shrugged a little. Somehow, thinking of his old life seemed… Bleeker. “I read a lot. Um, I did a lot of exploring, obviously. I liked finding things I didn’t know about and taking it home to run some tests, see if there’s anything interesting. And, uh, yeah. I lived alone.”

“Oh! So humans’ life patterns vary? There’s no set time to leave your first home, find a mate?” Roman’s eyes were wide, fascinated.

Logan nodded slowly. “Yeah… I mean, you can do whatever you want, really. Do you… Have a ‘set time’ to find a mate?”

He blushed. “Kind of? My species has a limit on how long you have to search. We have a token that we’re to give to our mates after courtship… and if you don’t, we kind of… fade?"

Logan frowned deeply. “That’s horrible. What if you don’t want a partner?”

Roman’s head tipped in confusion. "Who wouldn’t want a life partner? The world is lonely sometimes!”

“Well, plenty of people upstairs.” Logan turned to face Roman, wrapping his legs around him. He was slowly warming up, but not quick enough for his liking. “I mean… Well, are we talking about ‘life partners’ or ‘mates?’”

“Oh! You separate the sexual pairs from the companionship ones?” Roman chuckled. “That makes more sense now!”

He nodded, hesitantly resting his head on Roman’s shoulder. “Yeah. Some people only want one or the other, or neither. I mean, most everyone wants someone to be with for their lives, but… More separated. It’s hard to explain. People can just do whatever they want with their own relationships.”

Roman hummed, sliding off his outer covering layer to hold Logan closer, fingers playing with his hair. “It’s complicated. We do have some help, though? Our tokens can act as a guide, giving a nudge if we’re blind to our feelings!"

“Hmm… That’s really-”

“VIRGIL? ROMAN? ARE YOU BACK YET?”

Wincing, Roman groaned and tucked Logan against him. "Son of a sea cow! GO AWAY!”

Janus appeared in the light, looking flustered. “Oh- Logan! You’re out of your cage!” He smiled shakily. “How did you sleep? Oh- Are you cold?” He started to shrug off his jacket.

Logan snickered softly. He patted Roman’s hair as he hissed at Janus and bared his fangs.

“I am,” Logan said, “I slept some… Roman is taking care of me, but, thank you?"

“Oh, I don’t mind!” Janus messily grabbed some gems out of one of the pockets and stuffed them in his pants’ pocket, then held out the jacket. The inside was covered in patches of various fabrics, some of those patches with patches of their own. “I was hoping you’d be more up to talk today? Are you busy?”

Deciding it to be rude to refuse the gift, Logan slid into the jacket carefully. It wasn’t very comfortable— Scratchy, the material stiff. "Well… Um, I don’t think I’m allowed to before presentation day? I don’t want trouble.”

“Janus.” An irritated voice echoed through the tunnel, and Virgil came into view. “Why are you back?”

“I’m trying to talk to Logan.” Frustration bit into his voice, Janus’ hands curling into fists. “Is that a problem?”

“Yes,” Virgil snapped. “He doesn’t want you. You can bid on him tomorrow like everyone else.”

“Thank you for your interest, Janus… But perhaps some other time?” Logan set his head on Roman’s shoulder, confused by the odd snake creature’s persistence.

One of Janus’ fangs poked into his lip. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Virgil set the tray of food down and came over to Logan with a thick hoodie. They felt over Logan’s shoulders and frowned in confusion, then anger.

“Take that off,” they snapped.

Blushing, Logan quickly obeyed. “Sorry… It seemed rude to refuse?”

Virgil tossed the jacket on the floor, one of their talons catching and ripping another hole. “When Sylvia said you couldn’t be rude, that certainly does not apply to him. Don’t trust him. Don’t take anything he gives you.” Virgil wrapped the hoodie around Logan’s shoulders and patted him softly. “Let’s get back in your cage, okay?”

Janus picked up his jacket silently, and left.

“Oh… why?"

“He doesn’t deserve to be around humans. You don’t know how things work down here, so you wouldn’t understand, but trust us. He should not be around humans.” Virgil held out his food tray once Logan was in the cage.

Taking the tray, Logan leaned against the bars, wishing for Roman’s warmth again but sipping the soup happily. "Do you have any other advice?"

“You’ve been doing fine,” Virgil promised. “Just get some rest for your display day.”

"Are most humans bought after just one display day?” His forehead pinched at the thought of being uprooted again.

“No. There are usually four, and you’ll be waiting at least a month. How long exactly depends. Bids are open for at least a month, and depending on the popularity of the subject- You -the date might be extended to try and raise a higher price.”

“O-Oh… and I’ll be kept here, or a different place between displays?” I wish I had my notebooks, my things… I dropped all that outside the hole when I fell in.

“It depends on your behaviour. If you behave, you’ll be kept with us until you’re bought. If you break a rule, though, you’ll immediately be switched guards until you’re either bought or the superiors are convinced you won’t act out again.”

Shaking his head, Logan nibbled his bottom lip. “I meant is there a way to earn perhaps… Warmer space, things to distract myself with? I am used to activity, knowledge-seeking.”

Virgil frowned. “I’m sorry. No, that’ll have to wait. You can ask your owner when you’re bought.”

His shoulders slumped. “Oh… This will be a very long month then.” I’m to be bored and confused and scared, lovely.

Virgil headed back to Roman.

Blushing a little, Roman pulled out a small package and handed it to Virgil. “Oh, before I forget, I saw this new tea at the vendors! It’s supposed to be super calming and it smells really good!"

Virgil pressed the bag to their snout, sniffing it curiously. “Mm! Spicy! Thanks, Ro!” They jumped to their feet. “I’m gonna go make some, do you want any?”

Preening a little, Roman made a little chirp of happiness. "Sure!”

Logan arched an eyebrow. Is… Is Roman courting Virgil?!

Virgil squeezed his hand and rushed away. Logan arched an eyebrow. “So… You did say gifts were instrumental to the courtship process, did you not?”

Blushing bright red, Roman turned to Logan. “Yeah… Doesn’t have to be expensive, just thought out!”

Logan finished his soup and hugged his knees. “How many gifts have you given them? Do they understand what you’re doing?”

Roman hummed softly as he thought. “There was the material for a new hoodie, some repair on their clothes… The tea, a few meals. I don’t know if they do, but I hope so! They’re so sure that nobody would want them, silly Clawsian!"

“How long do you have until your, um, deadline?”

Looking down, Roman tugged at his cloak gently. "Six lunar cycles…"

Logan’s eyes blew wide. “What-? That’s- Tell them! You have to tell them!”

Roman blush deepened. "Well, I don’t want to make them become my mate out of a sense of duty, to somehow save me? They’re so honourable…. Kind.”

“That’s-”

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

Two mugs clanked against the stone and Virgil charged forward. They felt up Roman’s arms, his shoulders, neck, finally cupping his face, then tilted his head to kiss him hard.

Melting into the strong hands, Roman moaned, kissing back with equal passion as he revelled in the caring touches. “Virgil~”

Logan laughed. “I would agree… They seem quite amenable!”

Virgil slid their talons into Roman’s hair. After a moment or two, he pulled away, voice ragged. “If you ever put yourself in danger for me, ever again, I will break up with you so fucking fast, Princey-”

Face bright red, Roman nodded quickly and chased the touch. “O- Okay! I promise to tell you if I’m ever in danger again!"

Virgil poked his nose. “Good.”

They grabbed their mugs of tea and settled against Roman’s side. Virgil’s smelled approximately ten times spicier than Roman’s.

Nuzzling lightly, Roman smiled. "Does that mean we’re together then, you accept me as your mate?!”

“Depends on how good this tea is.” Virgil took in a long sip, eyes fluttering shut. “Yes, I accept.”

Laughing, Roman snuggled in and sipped his own. Virgil finished the mug and rested their head on Roman’s shoulder, falling asleep for a nap while Roman took watch.

The sub of this duo, Virgil, does commissions! Earn yourself 300 words for each coffee and the knowledge that you’re helping me pay the bills and start my own business

You can read my writing specifically here

#logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #prinxiety #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic janus #not safe for sanders #ds writes #cave boys #logan #virgil #roman #janus

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years

Text

Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 4

As shaky as things with Rebus had begun, they quickly settled into a comfortable companionship. The wolf was stubborn and willful when he wanted to be but it was… actually quite nice, to have someone to talk to.

As the days passed Rebus allowed Ford closer and closer, finally permitting Ford to brush his wild fur when more than a few of Ford’s belongings got tangled up in there. If anything Rebus seemed to appreciate the grooming. Ford couldn’t say he liked having his hair brushed (it was too short to do anything with and he’d never had anyone try to touch it beyond casual hair-ruffling) but he had to admit, it was quite soothing to run his hands through clean, silky fur.

If only the wolf wasn’t so frightening to look at.

Ford sighed, standing alone and empty-handed at the front door where the mailman had run off screaming, taking Ford’s package with him. Rebus yawned and stretched and looked generally imposing and wolf-like.

“Could you not scare away the postman?” Ford complained. Rebus looked entirely unapologetic. “Unbelievable.”

____________________________________________________________________

“You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

Rebus growled stubbornly and planted his ass on the porch, refusing to move no matter how much Ford pushed and pulled. If only the darn wolf wasn’t so heavy! Ford was up to his elbows in thick fur.

“You’re filthy, and you’re shedding!” He pressed his back against the wolf and shoved, only managing to slide him a few centimeters. Great. In an hour they might reach the front door. “You need a wash.”

Rebus let out a little growl.

“Oh, stop that.” Ford grabbed handfuls of fur and pulled. The hound sighed dramatically and flopped onto the deck, making Ford squawk in frustration. “Don’t lie down! Rebus!”

Rebus resolutely ignored him. Ford straightened.

“Of course. Of course I have to deal with this.”

Rebus’s outright refusal to bathe almost reminded him of his teenaged years, Ma bullying Stanley into washing. ‘A dip in tha ocean doesn’t count!’ She’d scold. ‘Go get yer ass in the shower or I’ll empty a bucket a’ water over yer head!’

Hmm.

Rebus yelped when Ford dumped a bucket of cold water over him. Ford snickered at the wrinkled nose and dirty glare Rebus shot him as he crawled, wet and dripping, from the rather sudden puddle.

“You were the one who refused to move to the bathroom. Don’t blame me for the consequences.”

Ford got to feel vindictively gleeful, up until Rebus shook and sprayed him from head to toe in dirty water.

____________________________________________________________________

Ford went on a shopping run to stock up on supplies. When he returned, Rebus was curled up on the couch and the TV was blaring. Ford froze in the doorway.

Rebus glanced up almost guiltily. Reruns continued to play. The wolf rolled

sideways onto the remote and the TV switched off. Rebus yawned, stretched, and padded away, leaving Ford gaping.

____________________________________________________________________

It was past midnight and Rebus was still bothering him! Ford threw down his pen and turned to glare blearily at the fussing animal. Rebus glared back from his spot in the doorway of Ford’s study.

“What? I already fed you! I’m busy.”

Wait, had he fed the wolf? He must have, Rebus would bark and whine and generally be a nuisance if Ford forgot. So what else did he want? Ford was getting frustrated with all the pacing and the stares. Rebus had been sending him those looks all night! All… morning? Afternoon? Ford wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it. He was pretty sure he’d pulled at least one all-nighter in the last few days but it was all a little hazy.

Tugging – Rebus had bitten his sweater sleeve and was currently tugging Ford out of his chair. Ford yelped and grabbed the desk to steady himself.

“Hey!”

He pulled back. Rebus yanked again with a jerk of his head and sent Ford stumbling forward.

“Let me go – you ridiculous animal – hey!”

Rebus continued dragging him through the house until Ford stumbled and caught himself on the frame of his bedroom door. He grabbed Rebus’s jaw to try and pry the fabric from his teeth but Rebus shook his head from side to side to avoid the reaching hands.

At some point it devolved into a tug-of-war, Ford still half inside his sweater and unable to hold back snorts of laughter at how hopelessly tangled he was quickly becoming. He wrestled Rebus to the ground as well as he could one-armed. Rebus growled playfully and tugged at his clothes.

Ford wheezed. He hadn’t noticed it while at his desk, but now that he was moving his vision was swimming a little. Come to think of it, when had he last slept? He was conveniently near his bedroom, as if that was where Rebus had been so intent on pulling him. Maybe a nap wouldn’t hurt…?

Rebus seemed to sense that Ford’s head wasn’t in the game anymore, because he quit playing and instead leaned against Ford’s side. The scientist yawned and reached up blindly to pet Rebus’s ears.

“Yes, yes… play can wait. I think I’ll try to catch a few hours of sleep.”

Rebus didn’t seem too disheartened. In fact, he watched sternly as Ford stumbled to bed, letting out a satisfied huff when Ford’s head hit the pillow.

Odd behaviour… Ford thought, before slipping into dreams.

____________________________________________________________________

Rebus growled and dodged out of the way as Ford tried to clip the harness around his chest.

“Stay still! A leash is necessary if I don’t want to get in trouble. It’s either this or a collar, and you made your position clear on collars.”

Rebus glared at the object in Ford’s hand. The scientist scowled.

“You and I both know you don’t need a leash. But the residents of Gravity Falls don’t. They’ll get in a panic if you walk up unrestrained! Do you want to visit the town or not?”

The stare-off continued, until Rebus finally looked away. Ears pressed flat, he slunk forward to unhappily let Ford clip him in.

“See? Not so hard.” Ford said triumphantly. Rebus continued to mope the entire drive down to Gravity falls. That is, until the houses came into view. The wolf perked up, even going so far as to press his face to the window to get a good view of the town around them.

Once Ford parked and they exited the vehicle, getting around became a little more difficult, what with the teen screaming ‘WOLF’ and jumpscaring everyone on the street. Ford lifted his hands, holding the leash in clear view, in the hopes of de-escalating the situation.

“It’s okay, he’s domesticated. He’s my, uh…” Damn, he hadn’t thought this far ahead. “…dog. A crossbreed.”

The teen continued to peer suspiciously at the obviously-a-wolf. Rebus wagged his tail helpfully.

“…okay.” She said dubiously. “Er – what’s its name?”

“Rebus.”

The teen tipped her head, still squinting somewhat. “Does it bite?”

“Certainly not.” Ford lied. Well, it technically wasn’t a lie – Rebus didn’t bite people. The wolf in question stepped forward to greet the slightly-less-suspicious teenager, who hesitantly offered one hand.

“Um. Hi, Rebus? I’m Matilda.” She added to Ford, who nodded and introduced himself in turn.

“Stanford Pines.”

Matilda looked up suddenly from petting Rebus. “Wait, you’re the scientist dude who lives in that weird shack?”

Ford rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well, yes. I am a scientist.”

“No kidding. Everyone knows about you, dude. They’ve just never met you before. Or heard your name or know anything about you.”

“I tend to keep to myself.” Ford admitted. “How did you know who I am?”

“My boyfriend Dan talks about you sometimes.”

“Ah, yes, Boyish Dan. The lumberjack.”

Matilda sent him finger guns. She seemed quite laid-back when she wasn’t screaming about wolves. Ford decided to chalk up that incident to surprise.

“Well, give him my regards. Rebus and I must be on our way before the shop closes.”

“Sure.” Matilda stood, dusting hair off her jeans. “And, uh, just a word of advice; you might wanna get that dog a collar.”

Rebus shot him a glare. Ford sighed. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”

____________________________________________________________________

Ford had grown used to the crashing of gnomes raiding his bins every few days. When he first came to Gravity Falls he’d tried to put a stop to it, but they’d always come back the next day. Eventually he had given up. They rarely tried coming inside, and as long as they stuck to raiding the bins and nothing else it was tolerable.

But he hadn’t heard the tell-tail banging and clattering for almost a week now. Ford peeked through the window to check; there sat a row of untouched bins. The gnomes hadn’t just gotten very quiet all of a sudden; they hadn’t come at all. Why had they suddenly decided to leave his house alone? Not that he wasn’t thankful. More often than not they would leave a mess for Ford to clean up after.

There was the clicking of claws, and Rebus brushed against his legs on his way to the lounge. Ford failed to notice the strands of grey beard hair sticking out against his dark coat, and turned away from the window just in time to miss a party of scuffed and bruised gnomes scrambling into the forest as fast as their little legs could carry them.

____________________________________________________________________

Ford had made a slight, miniscule mistake.

A lapse of judgment, maybe. He’d gotten so caught up in a recent breakthrough that he had… maybe… forgotten to pay the power bills. And the water bills. And, he was pretty sure, a couple other bills he probably should have been paying.

With the sudden onset of a blizzard he was now firmly shut up in his not-heated house, shivering against the chill. He’d tried lighting a fire but what little firewood he had available had been soaked through by the melting snow. Ford resorted to bundling up in the warmest clothes he could find and huddling on the couch.

He shot a jealous look at Rebus, still shivering slightly under layers of blankets. The wolf’s heavy coat had finally come in handy and now he lay, perfectly warm and content, on the carpet.

Ford pulled his blankets tighter around him, unable to suppress a shiver. He vowed to never forget to pay his electricity bills again.

Rustling got his attention – Rebus had gotten up from his comfortable napping spot and yawned, before jumping up onto the couch next to Ford. Ford lifted one corner of the blankets invitingly.

Rebus squirmed in with him, heavy and warm, like an oversized heater. Ford didn’t object when the wolf lay half on top of him and yawned again. He only buried his face and hands in the warm fur and, toasty and comfortable for the first time in hours, fell asleep.

(he would wake up the next morning with a crick in his neck and a wolf snoring against him, warm despite the frostiness of the air. And after that night Rebus would often sleep by him, curled up at his feet or at the foot of his bed or flopped across him without a care in the world, as if liberated by the realization that he was truly safe and wanted)

#please don't see me #my writing #my fic #chapter 4 #gravity falls #the stans #werewolf stan au #werewolf!stan

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theperksofbeingbarbie · 4 years

Text

Sweet Words (Diego x GN!Reader)

WARNINGS: Mentions of blood; Mentions of gunshot wound; Alcohol use; Suggestive Themes; Language.

WORD COUNT: 2,509

PAIRING: Diego Hargreeves x Gender Neutral!Reader

A/N: A HALLOWEEN MIRACLE!!!!!!!! I’m so sorry this took so long but I am eternally grateful for your patience! I really hope you like it and that the wait was worth it. I really liked this idea and feel free to send more my way. (And hopefully I’ll get them done faster lol)

@myraticm

Love at first sight was bullshit, but goddamn the person at the bar was testing Diego’s belief in that.

He wasn’t even meant to be here, really. He won a boxing match and was feeling pretty good and for once in his life, he accepted the invitation to get drinks after with a few of the guys from the gym. Any other day he would’ve said no, gone back to the boiler room, go out to see if there were any crime scenes to crash. There was something that told Diego to go, and when he looked at the person laughing with their friends, he started to believe Klaus’ stupid rants about fate.

Diego clinked his glass with his friends, tipping his head back as the liquor passed his lips. He began to walk toward the bar before he had even set his glass back down on the table top, ignoring the comments from the guys he was with.

A hush took over the little group at the bar when Diego approached, everyone looking at the newcomer with apprehension.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” they greeted with a slight smile that made Diego’s heart skip a beat.

“I’m Diego.”

“[Y/N].”

“Mind if I buy you a drink, [Y/N]?”

[Y/N]’s eyes flitted over Diego’s body as if they wanted to take inventory of the man to decide his worth. Apparently he was worth something when they finally agreed.

The pair separated from both of their groups as they shared a drink. One drink turned into two, two turned into dancing, dancing turned into kissing behind the bar, kissing behind the bar turned into them stumbling through the door to [Y/N]’s apartment, hands exploring each other’s bodies with a sense of desperation.

------------------------------

Diego groaned when the pounding in his head woke him up, rolling over to hide from the pain before realizing he wasn’t in his bed. He sat up, memories of the night before finally catching up with the rest of him. The space beside him was already cold and he didn’t know what the fuck to do. Was [Y/N] still around? Was he just supposed to leave? Did they trust him that much if they were already gone? One night stands weren’t his thing for a fucking reason.

He rolled out of bed and started to put on his strewn clothes, following them like a trail of breadcrumbs through the little apartment toward the front door. Diego blinked when he was finally faced with the bright light coming from the kitchen.

“Morning.”

Diego ran a hand through his hair before pulling his shirt back on. “Morning.”

“Sorry if I woke you up, I have work early. Help yourself to some coffee,” [Y/N] offered with that smile that made Diego’s heart all fluttery again.

Diego nodded and moved around them to grab a mug, noticing their bookbag on one of the kitchen chairs. He plucked the security badge off the top, smiling at the picture. “You’re an ER nurse?”

[Y/N] quickly grabbed it from Diego’s hand, though their smile was still playful. “Are you always this nosy with people you sleep with?” they asked over their shoulder as they clipped it to their scrubs.

“Only the really cute ones.”

They snorted, shaking their head in disbelief.

“I had a lot of fun last night.”

A blush started to creep up the other’s neck and Diego just wanted to kiss all over it like he did last night. “I did too,” they finally admitted, taking a bite of the breakfast burrito they prepared.

Diego took a sip of his coffee as he weighed his options: make this a strictly one time thing, or try for a repeat.

“We should do this again,” he said as casually as he could, leaning back against the counter.

[Y/N] slowed down their chewing, clearly going through their mental pro-con list at his offer. “I’m not really looking for anything serious,” they finally answered with a little nod. “But if you still wanted to do that again, I’d be down.”

Diego decided to take what he could get and scribbled his number on the pad stuck to [Y/N]’s fridge. “Thanks for the coffee.” He left a kiss on their cheek before giving his mug a rinse, grabbing the rest of his clothes as he made his way out.

------------------------------

Diego didn’t want to do this, but he didn’t know where else to go. He groaned as he pressed the bleeding wound on his side harder. He attempted to lift his other arm to knock on the door but couldn’t stand the pain, so he kicked the door he had become familiar with. Repeatedly.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I will call the cops!” he heard from the other side of the door, sighing when [Y/N] flung it open.

“Diego? What the fuck?”

Diego didn’t answer, pushing past the person he had started to consider a friend. “Got shot,” he finally managed to mumble, shuffling toward the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, did you just say you got shot?!”

Diego dropped down onto the edge of the bathtub with a huff, letting go of his wound to unbuckle his harness.

“Diego, you need to go to the-”

“No.”

“You got shot, though!”

“You treat gunshot wounds before?”

[Y/N] looked on in horror as Diego peeled his blood soaked shirt, hissing as the fabric stuck to the wound. They finally stepped foward to help, sighing when they could get a good look at it.

“Please,” Diego whispered, grabbing the towel he was handed to apply pressure on the gash again.

They huffed, leaving the bathroom to rummage around in the kitchen. [Y/N] was back in a moment, dropping all the supplies onto the counter. “You’re telling me what the fuck happened after, though.”

------------------------------

“You seriously want me to believe you’re a superhero vigilante?”

“You can google the Umbrella Academy. I was the cute one.”

Diego was now laying in [Y/N]’s bed, all sewn up and bandaged. Luckily the wound was closer to his back and he was able to turn around for them to sew him up; he didn’t have the fun and embarassing experience of fainting at the sight of the needle.

He watched [Y/N] grab their phone to fact check his story, raising an eyebrow when he saw their lips quirk into a smile.

“What?��

“You said you were the cute one but that isn’t matching up with what I see here. Number Four, though...”

Diego rolled his eyes, picking the pillow up that was beside him to throw it at [Y/N]. They just laughed and batted it away.

“You better not be going out there again for a while,” [Y/N] said more seriously, properly replacing the pillow beside Diego.

“It was just a graze,” Diego protested.

“I’m not stitching you up again!”

Diego could see their genuine worry and it caused him to step down from the fight. “How long do I wait?”

“A few weeks.”

Diego groaned dramatically, reaching out to grab their hand. “Fine. But only if I’m able to come over... I can just lay here and let you do your thing.”

[Y/N] laughed, crawling forward to kiss Diego softly.

------------------------------

Diego, for the first time in his life, actually listened to medical advice. He was aching to get back out on the street but he found things to fill his time. He started to coach the little kids at the gym, helped Al out more when he needed it, and spent more time with [Y/N].

Their relationship wasn’t something he was really used to, but he was enjoying it. It usually centered around sex, but they would also just spend time together. Maybe watch a movie or talk about work. Diego even started to do little handyman projects around [Y/N]’s house while they were at work so they wouldn’t have to wait for their landlord.

Diego huffed as he flopped himself on the sofa in the Academy mansion, already dreading this ‘family meeting’. He nodded toward Klaus as the Séance joined him with an overdramatic groan.

“Can we get on with this? I have plans,” Klaus announced with a flair of his hand.

Allison started to speak, Luther interjecting every so often with details that she missed. Diego grabbed his phone and started texting, unable to hide the smile that was taking over his features.

“I’m sorry, are we bothering you, Diego?”

“Usually, yeah.”

Allison huffed, snatching the phone out of her brother’s hands, ducking when he immediately threw a knife at her head.

“Who the hell is this?”

“None of your fucking business,” the vigilante growled.

“His lover,” Klaus lamented, laying himself across Diego’s lap with the back of his hand gently placed on his forehead. “The cute little thing that has our grumpy asshole in love.”

Diego rolled his eyes, pushing Klaus onto the floor, which just made Number Four laugh. “It’s not that serious. We just hook up.”

“And fix their water heater, apparently,” Luther pointed out, holding up the exchange of messages about the project.

“We have sex and I fix up their apartment because their landlord is a prick. Happy?” Diego grabbed his phone back, shoving it back into his pocket.

“You like them,” Vanya realized softly. “Genuinely.”

Diego just glared at the violinist.

Allison returned to her chair as she thought about her next question, “How long have you two been doing this?”

Diego knew there was no getting out of this. He was going to fess up or they’d dig and make it a hundred times worse. “A few months.”

“Friends with benefits don’t usually last that long without becoming real, darling Didi,” Klaus pointed out.

“Do they seem to actually like you?” Luther asked, his features showing genuine concern for his brother.

Diego just rolled his eyes. “It’s just sex and favors. They patch me up and I fix up their place. That’s it.”

“You need to talk to them. See if you’re actually their boyfriend or if you should end it.”

“Excuse me for not wanting to take relationship advice from you, Allison,” Diego snapped.

Everyone sat in silent shock, Diego taking the chance to leave the mansion once more.

------------------------------

Diego would rather die than admit that maybe, just maybe, his siblings were right. He had fallen for [Y/N], almost instantly. They were charming and fun and kind. He smiled whenever he thought of them or saw something that reminded him of them. He adored doing boring little things with [Y/N]. Just laying in bed together was quickly becoming Diego’s favorite pastime.

But he was fucking terrified. After Eudora, Diego didn’t want to get burned again. He was still just a vigilante with twenty bucks to his name. [Y/N] was a successful nurse who, for some fucked up reason, put up with his shit.

Well, Diego knew what that ‘fucked up reason’ was. Everyone did. [Y/N] was willing to put up with him just because the sex was good. That’s all he was to them and he would just have to be happy with that.

The voices of his siblings didn’t stop floating around his mind. Every time he wanted to pick up the phone to call [Y/N], Allison was there telling him to admit his feelings and end it if they didn’t feel the same.

The days started to build up to weeks since the last time Diego stopped by. [Y/N] would send a text to invite him over, but he always made up some stupid excuse to avoid it. They would move on and he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of actually ending it and knowing that he wasn’t more than a cock and some tools.

Diego really didn’t want to do this. The thought of crawling back to this door when he had essentially ignored the person on the other side for a month and a half made his stomach turn. He huffed, knocking on the door until he could hear shuffling from inside the apartment.

“Seriously?” [Y/N] asked when they opened the door.

Diego only managed a sheepish smile, mumbling his thanks when they stepped aside to welcome him. He made his way to the bathroom like he had countless times before as the nurse rummaged through their kitchen.

“If you got shot again-”

“Just beat up.” Diego sighed as his shirt was pulled off, the cool air soothing the searing hot pain around the cuts and gashes.

“You have so much fucking nerve,” [Y/N] mumbled as they began to clean him up. “Ignore me for ages and then expect me to just patch you up. You could’ve been dead and I wouldn’t have known.”

“I’m sorry.” Diego wasn’t even sure if he actually said the words out loud, but [Y/N] paused to survey his face.

“I just worry.”

They stayed silent, only the sound of water splashing as [Y/N] dipped the bloody rag in the sink.

“Why?”

Diego looked up, taking a deep breath as he tried to think of an excuse. Maybe pulling the band aid off would be best. “Someone told me you were only in this for sex and free labor around your place and I was being an idiot.”

[Y/N]’s eyebrows shot up. “And what? You’re not only in this for sex and no questions health care?”

Diego smirked, looking down at his boots. “I wish that’s all it was sometimes.”

Silence filled the air once more. [Y/N] placed their finger under Diego’s chin to lift it, dabbing softly at the abrasions there.

“Do you want more?”

He pulled away from the hands, gently pushing them away from his face. It didn’t matter if he wanted more, he didn’t deserve it. Not from [Y/N].

“Diego.”

Their fingers were cold from now red water in the sink, sending a shiver down Diego’s spine when they gently brushed over his cheeks. He let [Y/N] tilt his head back up, a knot forming in his stomach at the sight of their beautiful face.

“Be honest. Please.”

He couldn’t find the words, and the words he did find he was sure wouldn’t come out properly. Diego nodded, looking back down at the ground, afraid of the response from the person he cared so much for.

There was the feeling of soft lips on Diego’s temple, then his cheek, slowly leading to his lips. He leaned into the kiss, noticing that it was softer than he had ever experienced. It was filled with love.

“I want more too.”

Diego kissed [Y/N] again, unsure of what else to do with this feeling that was building in his chest.

“I love you.” The words came out surprisingly simply, passing over his lips like their name on a warm night.

[Y/N] paused before saying, “I love you too.”

The pair shared another kiss and the words tasted as sweet as they sounded. Diego didn’t want to go a day without hearing those simple words. He didn’t want to live another moment without their gentle kiss after speaking those words.

Diego didn’t want to go a second without [Y/N] in his life as his love.

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sweetmugofcocoa · 4 years

Text

Last Breath of Peace

This was a requested fic for @grimthejedisith‘s character, Grim.

This was a ton of fun to write, and I hope you like it! I don’t do requests like this often, but I appreciated the challenge it was.

Keep in mind, I do not have a beta. This has not been nitpicked for mistakes like spelling.

Enjoy! And cry. Because....

Summary: Grim goes with her master, Obi-wan Kenobi, to Utapau to finally stop Grievous. Warning: angst, Order 66, canon typical violence Words: 2,622

“Fortunately, most of the cities are concentrated on this small continent here,” Cody says, continuing his report of the planet Grievous has hidden on. Grim tries to pay attention, but she keeps glancing at the troopers milling around, prepping for the coming fight.

“Right, Padawan?” Kenobi asks.

Grim turns to look at him, “Hm?”

Kenobi smiles gently. “We’ll keep the enemy distracted until the troops can land,” he reminds her.

“Oh, yes, of course,” she states, smiling in return.

Kenobi turns to the clone commander, “Just don’t take too long.” He motions for Grim to follow him to a spot void of any troopers. “Something is bothering you, Grim.”

Grim sighs, “I just have… a bad feeling, that’s all.”

“Is it about what you told me? About your home planet?” Her master asks.

“Yes,” Grim answers, “the things that I know will come to pass, the things I want to change—”

“Padawan,” Kenobi says, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “the Force is strong with you, but do not dwell too much on what may, or may not happen. You have already changed some things, true?”

Grim nods, “Yes Master.”

“Then perhaps you have done enough,” Kenobi suggests, “keep an open mind, but that mind must be clear, or anything will squeeze past your common sense and muddy your actions.” He finishes with a signature smile of his, which always eased his padawan.

“Of course, Master.”

Kenobi stands up, “Shall we review the plan?”

“No, sir, I heard,” Grim says. She manages a smile, “Land, find Grievous, beat him, and save the galaxy.” She huffs, “Just like usual.”

Kenobi laughs, “I believe this is the last time we’ll be seeing the good general.”

They head to their fighters, Kenobi walking calmly, while Grim is antsy to get going, despite the chill that sits in her stomach.

“You’re fighters fully prepped,” one of the troopers tells her.

“Thank you, Sergeant,“ she says, getting seated.

“Remember Cody, don’t delay,” Kenobi says.

“When have I ever let you down?” Cody asks. Grim flinches, but since she’s in her fighter already, her reaction is hidden by the thick glass.

“Very well, the burden is on us not to destroy all the droids until you arrive.”

Cody turns to Grim, “Stay safe out there, kid.”

Grim gives him a lazy salute and starts the launch sequence. Cody’s face morphs into concern when she doesn’t smile in return. Grim follows Master Kenobi out into space.

“May the Force be with you, Master,” Grim says as they connect to their hyperspace rings.

“And you, my young padawan,” Kenobi replies through the comms, “and as my master once said, be mindful of the future, but not at the expense of the moment.”

“I understand, master,” Grim says, “let’s stop this mega-droid once and for all.”

Kenobi’s warm laugh echoes in the cockpit, “With that, I whole heartedly agree.”

***

Grim lands her ship next to Master Kenobi’s on one of the empty spots in the Utapau hanger. Master Kenobi gets out first, signaling for Grim to stay in her ship. She waits as he talks to the ambassadors, but scans their surroundings. There are droids watching higher up, in the shadows. She leaves her hand on the eject button, should more droids come from the rafters. A group of shorter life forms scamper over to the Jedi ships, resupplying fuel.

Master Kenobi bows and returns to his fighter. He talks to R4, about contacting Cody. Grim’s controls turn on without prompting, which means that R4 relayed the message to her own astromech. Kenobi watches the droids above. When they leave, he signals Grim to follow him. They watch as the astromechs pilot out into space.

“The people here are scared,” Grim states, feeling it in the Force. She hopes it hides her growing unease from her master.

“Yes,” Kenobi agrees, “they are being watched by battle droids. We are going to the tenth level, that’s where most of the droids are.”

“Think they’ll buy our deception?” Grim asks, following him further into the shadows.

“They’re droids, my young padawan,” Kenobi smiles at her, “when have they done anything smart?”

Grim rolls her eyes at the comment. Her master doesn’t have the biggest opinion of droids.

“I’m surprised you asked,” Kenobi continues, “you’ve never asked how something may or may not go.”

Grim realizes this, “Just trying to lighten the mood, Master.”

“Try that with Grievous and he’ll have a different reaction.” They reach an elevator shaft and Kenobi starts heading up.

“Master, isn’t the tenth level higher up?” Grim asks as Kenobi steps out of the elevator shaft.

“Yes. But we will need something here first,” Kenobi responds. Grim follows, coming out at a pen for varactyls. Kenobi selects one, and Grim mounts her own. “Let’s go,” Kenobi says, leading the way out of the pen. The varactyls warble the whole way to level ten, that Grim is surprised they managed to not be found.

***

Master Kenobi crouches as he watches the scene below them. Grim stays next to the reptilian creatures. General Grievous is talking to the separatist politicians below.

“Your ship, is waiting,” Grievous says. The group stands to leave. Kenobi stands as well, nodding to his padawan. Grim comes to stand beside him. They take off their cloaks together and jump down into the center of the room, droids lining the walls.

“Hello there,” they say in unison.

“General Kenobi,” Grievous says. “You are a bold one.” Grievous looks at Grim, coughing once, “Pest.” He then cackles, “Kill them.”

The droids with electric staffs walk forward. The Jedi duo dispatch them easily, Kenobi bringing a giant metal vent down on top of them and Grim slicing the heads off of any that try to reach for their staffs while pinned.

They walk towards Grievous. The B1 droids raise their guns, but Grievous yells, “Back away! I will deal with these Jedi slimes, myself.”

“Your move,” Kenobi says.

“You fool,” Grievous says, standing taller. “I’ve been trained in your Jedi arts,” he unclips his cloak from his shoulders, “by Count Dooku.”

“And Kenobi trained the Jedi that killed him,” Grim mutters to herself, just loud enough for Grievous to hear.

Grievous drops his cloak and his four arms separate. He turns on his lightsabers one at a time; two green, two blue. “Attack. Kenobi.”

Kenobi smirks. He moves to his beginning stance, while Grim puts her lightsaber in front, the hue turning her face purple.

Grievous then spins his blades around, stalking closer to them. Grim moves back out of the way, keeping her stance facing Grievous while feeling for her master’s first move. He lunches to block one of the sabers, so she goes for a different one.

Grievous pulls away, attacking at Kenobi. Grim leaps over him, slashing towards his shoulder, before landing behind him. Both the attack and the following one at his back are blocked by wildly swinging sabers. She goes on the defensive for a moment, drawing his attacks in and centering herself.

Kenobi chops off one of Grievous’ hands. While he’s protesting, Grim finds another, the limb and lightsaber it was holding falling to the platform below them. Grievous turns to face her, anger in his eyes.

Blaster fire rains down on the room. Clones pour over the railing above, landing on the floor and continuing to take out all the battle droids present. Grim deflects a few more swipes of a saber from Grievous, then he runs for a transport, sitting inside the giant wheel and mowing down anyone in his path. The two Jedi jump out of the way.

Kenobi calls for his varactyl, and it arrives along with Grim’s mount. The two jump down and race after Grievous, who has gone out on top of a Separatist sphere wedged into the rock face. Grievous takes a blaster out from a compartment and shoots back at the Jedi. Kenobi has trouble keeping balance while his varactyl runs over the smooth decline. The lightsaber in his hand flies off, landing somewhere below him.

Grim, on the other hand, has to let go of her varactyl, as it was hit by a blaster bolt and begins tumbling off the side of the sphere. At the last moment, she jumps onto the back of her master’s varactyl. “Cody’s going to have a fit when the battles over,” Grim states, out of reflex.

The varactyl jumps and they continue chasing Grievous through a cave system. The path widens and Kenobi presses the creature to pick up the pace. When they are right next to Grievous, he takes out an electrostaff and jabs at them with it. Kenobi grabs the staff, but is hauled off the varactyl in the process.

The creature yelps and digs its feet into the ground. “No no no,” Grim says, “Boga, keep going!”

The varactyl protests. Grim snaps the reigns and it continues, but the pair of fighters are already out of sight. At the end of the tunnel, Grim leaps off the varactyl, heading straight for Grievous as her master slides over the edge of the platform. She ignites her lightsaber, which she had clipped to her belt.

Grim harnesses her emotions, finding the parts of her that are rooted in her drive to change the outcome of the galaxy, the fear of what is out of her hands, and the anger in her of not being at her master’s side for part of this battle. She uses it, minding her teaching, to press Grievous into defense. He keeps up with the electrostaff still in hand, but then a blaster bolt hits him in the back. He turns, getting struck again, this time in the chest. After a few more bolts, Grievous goes up in flames and collapses.

Kenobi pulls himself onto the platform, walking over as he tosses a blaster away, “So uncivilized.” He turns to Grim as she deactivates her lightsaber. “You have a cloud around you, padawan.”

Grim nods, closing her eyes. She tries to find the calm in the storm, a way to ground herself in order to come down from the flurry of passion needed to fight with the nearly-forbidden form. But the adrenaline from the fight, along with what she knows is to come, makes it an impossible task.

She feels her master probe the edges of her mind, trying to help alleviate the torrent of emotion. But instead of letting him in, letting him search for the source, she shuts him out. It’s so abrupt that he physically flinches.

“Grim,” Kenobi says cautiously. Grim gives him a shake of her head, trying to build walls so he can’t see. She can’t imagine the reaction he’ll have if he knows.

“Maybe I did change enough,” Grim says, almost more for herself than for him. “The future is always changing,” she adds with a more calm demeanor. Her shields snap into place, and he sees as such.

“Of course,” Kenobi says, “we should check on the men.”

A small chink of her mental armor cracks, just enough to give away a clue as to what’s behind it.

***

They ride Boga down to Commander Cody on a lower platform. “Commander, tell your men to head to the higher levels,” Kenobi says. Grim watches the clones around them, some falling to the ground from a blaster bolt. She hopes they aren’t the luckiest on this battlefield.

“Very good, sir,“ Cody says. He then reaches for his belt, “I believe you’ll be needing this.“ He holds out Kenobi’s lightsaber.

“Thank you, Cody,” he says with a wry smile.

“Commander,” Cody nods too Grim. She stares back. Apprehension builds in her stomach at being so close. She reminds herself of what she said before, that it may not happen. Small things can change a large portion of the future.

“Grim, I’ll head farther up, you help the clones and follow me,” Kenobi says.

Grim slides off the varactyl, then stops and looks at her master, “We’re splitting up?”

“This is the best place for you,” Kenobi says. They make eye contact. He sends impressions to her, his concern, her reluctance to talk to him.

She resolves that the future is too unpredictable. “Master, I need to speak with you,” she says.

“We have a battle to win, my young padawan,” Kenobi says. He pulls at the reigns and turns Boga around, “we’ll talk after.“

He then urges the varactyl on before Grim can protest. She looks at Cody, who is putting his helmet back on. Grim then turns and runs out of the open space. She turns at the shadows of a column, begging to be wrong.

Cody’s posture changes the moment the hologram appears. It’s minute, even harder to see with his helmet on. But he stands there, suddenly a shell. He nods, and the hologram cuts out. He motions to the cliff face, where Master Kenobi is currently climbing with Boga.

“Master look out!” Grim yells. She doesn’t see the outcome of her plea, as she deflects blaster bolts as she gets away from the scene. A group of clones follow her, and she believes she heard Cody’s voice order them on their new mission.

She runs, her mind in full panic mode. She stops after coming around a corner. She turns, waving her hand. The clones following her turn a different corner, giving her a moment of reprieve. Grim closes her eyes, half her focus on the surrounding area, the other projecting as far as she can. “Master Kenobi, where are you?”

She doesn’t get an answer. Tears start to well up in her eyes.

“Check the LAAT/i’s,” a trooper says, “the Jedi might be hiding in there.”

Grim turns to see the transports to her left. She debates running, or staying put. But then someone shouts and she bolts out of pure fear. Blaster bolts rain out around her, the wrong color to be the enemy, but suddenly her enemy none the less.

Clones chase after her, unable to hit her as she deflects as many of the bolts as possible without hitting anyone. She turns her head to check how many are following her, running straight into a long wall along the back of the level she’s on.

She turns, finally counting her pursuers. There are four troopers flanking Boil. “Commander Grim, you are charged with treason against the Grand Army of the Republic,” Boil says, his voice monotone, “and are subject to execution.“

“Boil, don’t do this,” Grim says.

“Men, ready.”

The guns come up.

“Aim.”

Grim’s lightsaber comes up between her and the blasters, her hands shaking.

Before Boil could give the order to fire, a blue saber ignites through his chest. The rest is a fraction of a second as Kenobi dispatches the rest of the firing squad.

Grim stares up at him, still wet from his fall, but otherwise alright. He offers a hand down to her, “Any chance this is what you wanted to talk about?” The usual humor is gone, only regret and barely contained grief. Grim takes his hand, nodding.

“We need to alert the others,” Kenobi says.

“It’s already too late,” Grim murmurs to herself. Kenobi wraps an arm around her shoulders, supporting her as they go to find a ship to take them off the planet. “I couldn’t…”

“Padawan,” Kenobi stops at a spot of relative darkness. Not far away, Cody is asking about Kenobi’s location. He crouches down and looks up at her, “There was nothing more you could do. It will be alright. We just need to stick together.”

Grim can’t muster up the courage to agree with him. He still has no clue what’s to come, not in it’s fullest.

#requested fic #grimthejedisith #fanfiction #star wars #ROTS #other person's oc Grim #angsty #sadness #rip boil #and four random clones #please be kind

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a-totally-legit-farm · 4 years

Text

The Hunt (Nikoma Drabble)

drabble - nikoma | read on google docs

Nikoma had been losing his mind as of late – it had started in his compulsory excursion to Zuzu, being cooped up in supercooled office spaces and hotel rooms. He still got to drink, and smoke, but he had… More requirements. The man sighed, like he had just got a hit of nicotine or a mouthful of good whiskey –

His broadsword cleaved the leaf clad golem in twain, splitting its core, its tacky sap tarnishing the usual sheen of the carbon-greyed steel. The creature moaned in faux pain as its form dissipated, becoming little more than bark, leaves and ichor. As it gurgled, he flicked the weapon in a swift, clean motion, the force from the twist flinging his victims’ lifeblood into the dirt.

It always felt good, removing that little bit of magic from the world. After all, Nikoma reasoned with himself, it was magic that killed my dad. This was something he had come to tell himself in his years of monster hunting. He remembered the autopsy results clearly – nothing was wrong with his father; it was a freak heart attack. The only conclusion a young Nikoma could come to, in his rage-filled, sorrow-riddled mind, was that his father had been the victim of some sort of magic.

The bushes ahead rustled, and from it, poured more monsters. A pair of golems and a small fleet of giant bugs rushed his position. Nikoma pushed forwards, the man’s steps placed with powerful intent, propelling him towards the blood that his sword hungered for. The sword was something else. Nik had always been an excellent fighter, a force of nature that would take enough damage to kill a man and still march on the offense, but this sword, Vice, was a different creature. The ouroboros engraved above the cross guard was telling of its nature – self-destructive, forever hungry.

The first bug was dispatched with a well-placed front kick, his black combat boots tearing through carapace and fluorescent gore, shattering the exoskeleton of the mindless creatures. The buzzing quieted slightly as the pink mist settled on the insect’s comrades – Vice swung left and low, through the pivot point in the closest golem’s knee, the green, spellbound husk toppling to the dirt. Nikoma followed the sing through as he was dive bombed by another beetle, leaping into a roll to try and regain his footing.

Beetles poured in from every direction now, with a golem leading each wave of insects. Again, he darted in, the six-foot tall man moving like a lightweight boxer, each footstep and sword slash carefully timed to wreak maximum havoc among the growing ranks of enemies. It was tiring work; Vice was not a small sword, yet each swing clipped at least one foe, never wasting energy in missed attacks. He cleaved through the horde of beetles, taking only superficial damage from their kamikaze-style dive bombs – it was rare for a bug to leave Nikoma’s reach once it had entered it. It was the golems Nikoma was weary of, the dense bark that made up their exterior was like rock and being punched was not in the swordsman’s list of things that were fun.

Vice spearheaded upwards as Nikoma lifted, the blade’s navy-grey steel piercing up and under the golem’s chest plates, his sword shattering the core inside, as its dead weight was lifted into the air, limbs limply dangling. It was a show of pure strength, as Vice relished the sticky ichor leaking from the now defunct golem. Again, that rush of adrenaline, that nicotine hit feeling, and a soft quenching of that ever-present bloodlust. Nikoma sighed, as he shrugged the golem off his sword.

It was quiet now, the cacophony of carapaces clacking silenced for the first time in what felt like forty minutes. Discarded exoskeletons and that bright bug meat littered the forest floors, piles of sap and bark and leaves piling amongst the corpses. It was a brilliant sight of awesome violence, and Nikoma reveled in it for slightly too long. It wasn’t what he had come into the forest for, but it was what he needed. His cuts and bruises pulsed and ached, a trail of red running from his eyebrow to his jawline. The pain was good.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

That was a mistake.

The iron grip of a golem wrapped around his ankle – it was the second he had faced, the one he had lopped at the knees. It was a rookie mistake not to destroy its core. He twisted, in an attempt to stab at it from above, but vines lashed around his right arm from the surrounding scrub, as he heard the uttering of a Fae language. Son of a motherfucker… His irritation spiked as he realized what had happened. The reason he was here had happened.

Nikoma was aware of a rumor, relating to a possible Spriggan sighting in the deep woods. Spriggans were fae of fables, renowned for their affinity of the woods, and known master manipulators. Good thing Nikoma didn’t care for trees. He had set out, Vice crying to taste the organs of a faerie, and Nikoma willing to do the deed. After all, he was a monster hunter. And now, his target hovered just two meters in front of him. It garbled its disgusting dialect at him, and he felt the digits of the golem grow and stretch and harden around his left leg.

It was a curiously grotesque creature – its skin tone was a pasty green, with what seemed to be wrinkled leaves making up some sort of garment around the faerie. Its face was long, its nose bridging in a very inhuman way, creating deep wells for its golden sliver-irises to sit in. Atop its head was a moss that did not seem to be a part of the Spriggan itself, instead its own, independent organism, moving slowly despite the lack of breeze.

“Human, who are you to encroach upon my territory?” The Spriggan’s voice was like wind blowing through leaves, whispy and whimsical, yet the tone behind the words was sinister and menacing – and Nikoma couldn’t help but scoff at the monster. A typical fae trick, to ask a human their name. There was a lot of power in a name.

“Get fucked, monster.” Clearly the faerie did not take the insult lightly, but whether it was the f-bomb or the monstrous insinuation, it wasn’t clear – regardless, the golem and vine’s grip on Nikoma grew tighter. The man could feel the plant matter cutting into his skin, rubbing and burning as friction held two of his limbs tight in place.

The creature’s eyes narrowed as it muttered more gibberish, “Gweles’m neb eghen’gas…” Nik spat at the faerie, saliva and blood intermingling as his disrespect landed on the fabled being. “You think yourself higher than us, gowygyon fethesik, yet you don’t realise you lunch with monsters worse than I.” Nikoma gritted his teeth – the fairy was monologuing now, great. The words had weight to them, however – magical weight, the Spriggan’s powerful persuasion pushing its rhetoric into his head. “The flame-haired one, she is a monster, duwesow’a chatelydheith , not of race nor magic, but a monster nonetheless…” The Spriggan hissed his words at Nikoma, hovering in and out of Vice’s possible strike range as his speech filled the air.

“You know this, yet you only strike us down… Pystyon…”

Nik growled, slowly rotating his sword in his right hand – and not bringing attention to his left, barely moving it at all, for he was still not fully restrained. Clearly the Spriggan had not fought a human before, despite all its wisecracks. “You know this to be true, gowyow soudoryon. Are you fine with dining with monsters, yet killing innocent peoples?” His growl turned into a snarl as his teeth become bared, and the fae retreated a few meters, in expectation of more bodily fluids.

Instead, that same flick of the wrist this time sent Vice up into the air, and with a precise strike Nikoma had caught the handle and degloved the golem clutching his ankle, and following the momentum through, slashed the vine holding his good sword arm. In a flash, he sprinted at the faerie, who had frantically begun chanting its putrid dialect. Roots burst from the ground and vines lashed from the trees – they managed to catch hold, but the warrior was a force unstoppable. Clay cracked and crumbled as the root tips ripped out, and trees creaked as the vines pulled on the smaller branches.

Nikoma leaped, screaming, sword ready to thrust into that sickly green skin. The closer he got, the more biological chains he felt halting his decent. He closed his eyes, and he heard Vice. Push now. Feed me. He thrust the blade forward – just as he came to a complete stop. His amber eyes opened, to meet the Spriggan’s golden gaze. Through its chest was Vice, soaking in a soft ambrosia gushing from the mortal gash.

He was suspended by a harness of roots and vines, now completely immobile, yet his blade pierced the ground, via the fae’s internal organs. One final rush of that satisfaction hit Nik, as he watched the life drain from his latest victim. As it died, the Spriggan uttered one final phrase.

“A-barth Duw, gwitha fleghes rag an euthvil ma…”

Its final words was its final mistake. As his organic shackles became limp and unrestrictive, Vice spoke – also for the final time. The creature has kin. They must be removed. Nikoma grunted – normal people’s swords don’t talk to them. He wiped the warm, golden blood on the bark of a nearby tree, before trekking off into the woods. He sheathed Vice, and retrieved his flask of whiskey, gulping down the bronze liquid with ease.

Oh well.

Guess he was off to kill some more fairies.

#nik drabble #long post #theres not a lot of nik being a badass asshole #so heres a little bit

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celestialvoid-fanfiction · 5 years

Text

Sterek How to Train Your Dragon AU: Stiles is scrawny kid who lives on an isolated island called Berk – twelve days north of Hopeless and a few days sound of Freezing to Death, located in the Meridian of Misery and plagued by dragons. He’s the son of the chief, but everyone think’s he’s too scrawny, weak and defenceless to fight.

But he is smart. He manages to build a catapult, and one night, when the dragons attack, he manages to down a rare dragon—a Night Fury.

When morning comes, he sneaks out of town and follows the destruction through the forest to a small hollow. He finds the Night Fury struggling against the ropes. He pulls out his knife, but cannot bring himself to kill the dragon.

He lets out a sigh and cuts the ropes, setting the dragon free. When he returns home, he rushes to the dock to see his father gathering a fleet to find the dragons’ nest. His father enters him in the dragon-killing class taught by Deaton.

Stiles returns to the Night Fury, spending time coaxing it out of the shadows. He notices that the Night Fury’s tail was clipped by the catapult and now he can’t fly. Stiles befriends the dragon, designing a harness rig and a prosthetic fin that helps the dragon fly—so long as Stiles controls it. It takes a lot of trials and a lot of crashes – but when Stiles loses the piece of paper with his instructions, he’s left to pilot the fin by instinct; finding that when he trusts himself, he can fly without error.

He names the dragon Toothless after its retractable teeth, and draws closer to him, observing his behaviour and picking up on ways to subdue dragons without hurting them. Very soon and unintentionally, he becomes the best in his dragon-killing class, earning the admiration of his peers and making Derek, a tough Viking who Stiles has had a crush on for years, to grow suspicious of him.

When Stiles’ father returns home from his expedition, unsuccessful, he is greeted with the news that his son is the best in the class. Now it’s down to Derek and Stiles to win the chance to fight and kill a dragon for their final exam—and, unfortunately, Stiles wins.

He packs his stuff and heads into the forest, trying to leave with Toothless, but is discovered by Derek. Stiles puts himself between Derek and Toothless, trying to stop the two of them from hurting each other.

“You’ve been hiding a dragon?” Derek says, shocked. “I’m going to tell everyone.” Derek takes off running before Stiles can stop him. Stiles lets out a heavy sigh. “We’re dead.”

He climbs into the harness and chases after Derek, catching him and perching him in the tree until Derek caves and agrees to let Stiles show him something. Derek takes Stiles’ hand and lets the boy pull him up into the saddle. Toothless takes off, soaring through the sky and leaving Derek stunned.

“The exam is tomorrow,” Derek reminds Stiles. “I know,” Stiles mutters. “What are you going to do?” “I don’t know.” “Stiles, you’re going to have to—“ Derek glances at Toothless before leaning in closer to Stiles. “—kill a dragon.”

Toothless perks up at that. He takes off without warning, flying them towards a herd of dragons and into the dragons’ nest where they discover a giant dragon named the Red Death which heats smaller dragons unless they bring him food. Stiles and Derek realise that the dragons have been attacking Berk under the Red Death’s control and not their own free will. Derek wants to tell the village about the discovery, but Stiles says no—he needs to protect Toothless.

The next day, Stiles faces the final exam. Derek promises him that if something goes wrong, he’ll make sure no one finds Toothless. He stands in the arena and watches as the Monstrous Nightmare emerged from the cage and stalks into the arena. Stiles lets out a measured breath and drops his weapons. He takes off his helmet and lets it fall to the ground as he says, “I’m not one of them.” “Stop the fight,” his father orders. “No,” Stiles argues. “I need you all to see this.” He holds out his hand, talking softly to the dragon as it edges closer to his touch. Enraged, his father slams his hammer against the metal bars, angering the dragon.

Stiles dives to the side just in time to avoid the Monstrous Nightmare. From the hollow within the forest, Toothless can hear the dragon’s roars. He claws his way out of the hollow and tries his best to fly to the arena. There’s a shrill sound as Toothless blasts his way through the chains and into the arena, fighting off the Monstrous Nightmare and protecting Stiles.

Stiles tries to get Toothless to leave before the others catch him, but Toothless is determined to protect Stiles. His father takes Toothless captive and Stiles begs his father to listen to him; he tells him that dragons are harmless, that they’re being used against their will. Before he thinks better of it, he tells him about the Red Death and the nest.

Stiles’ father disowns him and sets off for the nest with Toothless chained to the lead ship to guide them. Stiles watches as they leave, heartbroken. Derek walks up behind him.

“What a mess. ...You must feel horrible. You've lost everything. Your father, your tribe, your best friend...” “Thank you, for summing that up,” Stiles says sarcastically. “Why couldn't I have killed that dragon when I found him in the woods? Would have been better, for everyone.” “The rest of us would have done it. So why didn't you?” “I don’t know. I couldn't,” Stiles says. “That's not an answer.” “Why is this so important to you all of a sudden?” “Because I want to remember what you say, right now.” “Oh, for the love of... I was a coward. I was weak. I wouldn't kill a dragon.” “You said ‘wouldn't’ that time,” Derek points out. “Whatever! I wouldn't! Three hundred years, and I'm the first Viking who wouldn't kill a dragon.” “First to ride one, though,” Derek says. “That’s pretty special. But you still haven’t said why.” “I wouldn't kill him because he looked as frightened as I was. I looked at him... and I saw myself.” “I bet he's really frightened now. What are you going to do about it?” “Probably something stupid,” Stiles admits. “Good, but you've already done that.” Stiles perks up, getting an idea. “Then, something crazy.” A smirk plays across Derek’s face. “That's, more like it.”

Stiles gathers his classmates, coaxing the captive dragons out of their cages and encouraging the others to bond with them before climbing onto them and riding them towards the nest.

Meanwhile, the Vikings attack the nest. Most of the dragons flee, but Stiles’ father quickly realises something’s wrong. He begins to shout orders to return to the ships, but they’re too late. The Red Death awakens, attacking them.

Stiles and the others arrive on the island. Stiles finds Toothless, but too late. The Red Death sets the ship on fire and it sinks, taking chained Toothless with it. Stiles dives in, but he can’t swim deep enough.

He begins to black out when strong arms hoist him back to the surface. He is set on the shore, calling out for Toothless as someone dives back in to free the dragon. Toothless bursts through the surface, landing on the shore by Stiles and setting his saviour – Stiles’ dad – down on the rocky shore.

Stiles climbs into the saddle, getting ready to fly off when his father calls out to him.

“Stiles, I’m sorry.” “Me too, Dad.” “You don’t have to go up there,” his father says, the worry written across his face. “Someone has to end this.” His father lets out a sigh, looking Stiles in the eye as he says, “I’m proud to call you my son.” “Thanks, Dad.”

Stiles holds onto the saddle as Toothless takes off.

They get the Red Death’s attention, flying high into the clouds as the Red Death chases them. The dragon opens its mouth to fire at them, but Toothless is faster, shooting a plasma blast into the dragon’s mouth and setting it ablaze from the inside.

The Red Death falls to the ground, consumed by fire. But the fire has caught Toothless’ prosthetic and Stiles can’t help him fly. The Red Death’s tail hit them, knocking Stiles off the harness.

He plummets towards the blaze, unconscious.

Toothless flails, diving after Stiles.

The fire dies out and Stiles’ father runs over to Toothless, calling out for his son. Toothless blinks his eyes open, looking up at Stiles’ father. He slowly unfolds his wings to reveal Stiles—unconscious, but alive.

When Stiles wakes up, he’s back in his room—in Berk. Except… He looks up to see Toothless in the rafters and panics, thinking his dad will flip out if he saw a dragon in their house, but as he sits up, he looks out the window to see more dragons flying around.

He pushes back the blanket and sets his feet down on the floor—his foot.

“Oh,” he says, looking down at the prosthetic leg on his right foot. He slowly lifts himself to his feet and steadies himself, leaning against Toothless as he hobbles towards the door.

He steps outside to see dragons flying around Berk—perched on houses, eating fish from a large bowl in the town square.

“That confirms it,” Stiles says. “I’m dead.” “Not quite,” Derek says, walking up behind him. “But you came close. By the way…” Derek punches his arm. “That’s for scaring me.” Stiles opens his mouth to argue, but Derek grabs the front of his shirt, pulling him close and crushing their mouths together. “And that is for everything else.”

#sterek #sterek au #sterek how to train your dragon au #sterek httyd au #sterek viking au #sterek amputee au #amputee stiles #amputee!stiles #amputee stiles au #amputee!stiles au #at the end at least #sterek imagine #imagine sterek #bamf stiles #bamf!stiles #eternalsterek #long post #text post

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siodymph · 5 years

Text

“The Before and After”

Hey there @pirably ! I’m so sorry this is getting to you so late! I can’t thank you enough for participating in the gift exchange, and I hope you enjoy my take on your prompt!

Feel free to read your story under the cut or over on my ao3!

“I can’t believe you!”

“What?”

Sighing, Stanford took a deep breath. His neck was starting to feel pinched from looking up at so long. “I said I CAN’T BEL-”

“I heard what you said! What’s not to believe?”

“Just… Everything about this! There’s no way this is safe!”

There was a long pause as Stanford waited until he finally heard Fiddleford respond. Voice echoing out from somewhere near the top of his gigantic creation.

“… Probably not!”

“Then why do you insist on working like this? Why put yourself in life-threatening danger!”

“Cause!” Fiddleford called back, huffing. “I work best directly with my hands. And there’s no way I could tip this darned thing over without risking it all breaking! All for some shiftin’ wires!”

“You could build something to help gently set it down then stand it again!” Stanford tried to add.

“Ugh! But that’d take even more time! Not to mention I’d have to build that first!” Fiddleford yelled. “Now hush up! I’m trying to work here Stanford!”

If someone were to see Stanford at that moment, they probably would have said he was pouting. But Ford would take to his grave if he had to. “I just want you to be safe…”

“I’m harnessed to the swing, which I rigged up myself! Checked the pulleys and everything this morning! I’m the safest I’ve ever been!” Fiddleford called out one more time. “And you’re one to talk! Where was all this fussing over safety when you were in Dr. Jenret’s class and you almost poured acid on yourself?”

Stanford could only smile and shake his head in response. As always Fiddleford was able to win him over when he least suspected it. As inevitable as it was, it still caught Stanford off-guard. Growing up there had been no one like that in his life. If he ever got into arguments or debates with kids they’d always either eventually concede or just completely give up. Or they’d just hit him out of annoyance. If it was his brother he’d do a combination of the last two.

At least Stanford used that excuse as to why after knowing the man for years now, he still managed to surprise him when they got into debates.

To this day Fiddleford was probably the only person he knew who could get him to shut up and see things from a new perspective.

So now knowing there was nothing he could say Stanford decided to just sit back and watch the show Fiddleford was putting on. The man may be stubborn as a mule, but he was equally as cunning and brilliant, and he certainly made a performance out of his larger-than-life projects.

There was no denying Fiddleford’s brilliance. He had the most engineering and mechanical skill out of anyone Stanford knew. Even better than himself, which was something he seldom admitted to anyone. But it was the truth. Fiddleford Hadron McGucket was by far the best of the best in the world of robotics. And anyone who said otherwise was wrong.

Just being able to watch Fiddleford work was a treat itself. As his creation came together it quickly collected height. So much so that he soon had to resort to rigged swings and climbing equipment to finish the job. As he worked up off the ground like that Stanford couldn’t help but think of those old photos from the 1940’s of construction workers building the first skyscrapers. So high off the ground, only a pair of overalls and a utility belt for protection, and yet seeming so at ease. There was almost a beauty in how effortless Fiddleford made it seem. A grace he had while swinging from rig to rig, climbing up the structure with his hands and feet.

But when the light hit his face just right and Stanford could see Fiddleford’s hair shine golden, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat from his hard work, Stanford knew in his heart his feelings for the other man hadn’t changed at all.

He found he’d only grown to love Fiddleford Hadron McGucket even more...

Two hours later, Fiddleford came swinging down. Overalls covered in a layer of grim, hair frizzled and frumpy, face red and sweaty, and a satisfying smile that just looked ethereal on Fiddleford’s face.

“How’d it go?” Stanford asked as he ran back over from his own work to meet him. Handing the other man a towel.

“Pretty good I think!” Fiddleford sighed gratefully as he started to wipe off his face. “Got that wiring all straightened out! Now all that’s left is testing her out!”

“That’s wonderful! We should test it now!”

“You know Stanford it’s a good thing I like ya so much.” Fiddleford said with a tired smirk. “Been up there all day, and as soon as I get down you want me to keep on working!”

“You know you want to see your new invention just as much as I do!” Stanford replied. “Don’t even kid yourself Fidds.”

Chuckling to himself, Fiddleford went over to his work bench and grabbed the remote control he’d built for this his invention. He let his finger hover over the main controls before looking towards Stanford.

“Hang onto your butts…”

All at once, the remote buzzed and the colossal machine burst to life. Inbetween metal panels, there was a bright green glow. Panels began to bend and shift. Massive wings unfurled from either side of the robot. For a moment the creature turned its head to look at its master. Green eyes glowing with a light that feuled it from within. Then after Fiddleford pressed another button the remote buzzed again and the creature tilted its head back at gave out a massive prehistoric screech that made Stanford’s entire chest rattle.

“Not too bad for someone who said they were moving onto computer-work only, huh?”

Stanford looked up at the massive mechanic pterodactyl in awe. “Fiddleford… Fiddlford that was nowhere close to ‘not bad’. That was… That was amazing!”

“Aw shucks,” Fiddleford mumbled.

“No, I mean it!” Stanford continued. “This is a piece of history in the making here. This won’t just change the world of animatronics, but the entire world of robots and engineering itself!”

“You really think so?” Fiddleford asked.

“I know so!” Stanford tried to contain some of his excitement, sometimes he could get rather loud when he got carried away. “And Fiddleford? I couldn’t imagine this being made by anyone else but yourself. You really did a… a fantastic job here. There’s no way you won’t take first place in Dawngrove next week!”

“Aw, I don’t care about none of that.” Fiddleford sighed as he turned off his robo-dino. “I’m only doing this for lil’Tate. He’s the one who asked me to do all this after all.”

“And I’m certain Tate will adore this too.”

“I hope so...” Fiddleford said with another sigh. Looking back up at his incredible invention. “Ever since me and the missus split I feel like I haven’t seen him as often. When we are together I gotta make it mean something. For the both of us.”

Gently, Stanford took Fiddlford’s face in his hands, pulling him away so they were looking eye to eye.

“Believe me Fiddleford, next week Dawngrove’s Robotic Royal will be a day no one could ever forget!”

Leaning in closer, Stanford kissed him. And closing his eyes, Fiddleford could feel himself relaxing.

Slipping away. If only for a few moments...

~~~

Sometimes it truly amazed Fiddleford how everything was coming back to him.

At least physically if not completely mentally. He was still working on that.

He counted it as a small success though when Stanford showed him a massive mechanical pterodactyl and he got the inkling of a sensation that he’d seen it before.

Raising one hand up, he touched one of its massive wings. It felt rougher than he’d expected it to. No doubt the metal had eroded some after years of hiding it away in such an abandoned place.

“I know I’ve seen this fella before…” Fiddleford pondered out loud, still lightly rubbing over the metal as if that would help him reveal the answer. He knew he’d made robotic pterodactyls before but this one didn’t seem as familiar. It definitely wasn’t the one he made for revenge after his retirement-party-fiasco. “Did we make this together?”

“Not really, I just watched.” Stanford answered. “You made this one on your own. It was for this competition out in Dawngrove California.”

“Dawngrove…” Fiddleford said slowly.

“Yes, does that town sound familiar at all?”

Fiddleford hummed a little before shaking his head. “It ain’t there right now, but it’ll come back. I can feel it rattle’n around in there.”

Stanford seemed a little disappointed, but decided to move on. “Well you and I brought that in for a robotics competition. A battle royal actually. You ended up getting first place. Your ex-wife and your son even came and we all cheered you on.”

The mention of his son brought a smile to his face. The details over everything were hazy but he always knew who Tate was. “He would have been around eight or nine right?”

“Yes, he was nine!” Stanford said.

Fiddleford chuckled at the thought. “He was such a little squirt back then. Always hiding under that big mop of hair…”

Stanford grumbled as he looked around. He wished he had more photos from that day. In his experience with Stanley photos help jogged Stan’s memory the best. Unfortunately he didn’t have any photos from that day. He was however able to find a few newspaper clippings he’d held onto from that day. Carefully picking it up the fragile paper so it didn’t disintegrate, Stanford brought it over for Fiddleford to see.

“Look here,” Stanford pointed to the main picture under the headline ‘Super Scientist and Father Wins Grand Prize with his Dynamic Dino!’ where there was a black and white photo of the Pterodactyl back in its golden years. “If you look towards the bottom near the pterodactyl’s feet you can see a few figures. That’s me on the right, you on the left, and you’re holding Tate in the middle of us.”

The article itself was so damaged it was illegible. But Fiddleford could just make out their figures Stanford was pointing to in the picture. The picture was so old the image had begun to fade some too, mostly on the left side. His whole body was faded out. But with enough focus he could just make out Stanford and Tate’s faces. Both were beaming at the camera. Grinning with pride. Fiddleford realized they’d been proud of him.

“You two sure seemed happy…” Fiddleford said with a sigh.

“And we still are.” Stanford continued. “You have no idea how happy I am to be here with you. To have a second chance at making things right with you. With everyone.”

Fiddleford nodded but didn’t look up from the picture. As if trying to memorize their faces in case this memory never came back to him. When he didn’t focus as hard he could almost recall some things. Mostly phantom feelings. Like holding a giggling Tate close to his chest. Or swinging up on a rig, shouting to Stanford down below. Walking hand in hand with both of them…

“I’m happy I get a second chance too.” Fiddleford replied softly.

Eventually they’d seen everything they could and together, hand in hand, they walked back out of that old warehouse back into the world. They’d been in there reminiscing so long they’d missed sunset. It was already night and the moon hung low in the sky, darting out from behind trees as they walked.

Stanford’s six-fingered hand felt so warm in Fiddleford’s own. How he’d spent all those years alone, Fiddleford didn’t know, but now that Stanford was back in his life he knew he couldn’t bear to go back to the way things had once been. The world had changed so much, and they’d both changed so much with it. But Fiddleford could feel it in his heart that what they had between themselves was still as special as it was back then.

And when the light hit his face just right Fiddleford could see Stanford’s hair shine silver, and his eyes practically sparkling under the moon, Fiddleford knew in his heart his feelings for the other man hadn’t changed at all.

He found he’d only grown to love Stanford Filbrick Pines even more.

#fiddauthor #fiddauthorgiftexchange #fiddauthor gift exchange #pirably #fiddleford mcgucket #stanford pines #fiddauthorgiftexchange2018

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gumnut-logic · 6 years

Text

The Proposal

This is Part one of at least two. I promised you something tonight, but I haven’t managed to finish it yet (I had to rewrite a good chunk of this bit tonight as Scott was being difficult). So while this doesn’t really end on a cliffhanger, it might as well. Sorry.

Warnings: Virgil/Kayo, part of the Warm Rain universe, some kinda graphic depictions of injury (poor Virgil), Virgil!Whump and angst for everyone, including me.

She had only had a split second to realise what was happening before he barrelled into her, his sheer mass wrapping around her, ever the protective idiot she loved.

There was snow and rock. She lost her belay rope, the world just spun sickeningly.

In the confusion a sharp spire of rock loomed, Virgil reached, his arm blue against all the white.

And he screamed.

She had never heard him quite make that kind of sound.

And their fall stopped.

The snow roared around them, but they had stopped moving.

He was trembling around her, his right arm the only purchase they had. His eyes were clenched shut. “Virgil?”

“I can’t…” He cried out as something hit them and they were falling again.

White.

Freefall.

And the horrible snap of tightening rope as they came to a complete stop mid-air.

Dangling.

The snow fell away.

The mountain fell quiet.

And they spun idly over a thousand foot drop held only by his tangled rope.

With the exception of his left arm still holding her so desperately to him, Virgil hung from his harness limp. She gasped when she discovered the torn uniform from the inside of his right elbow to his waist where the rock spire had gouged him on their way down. His blood dripped into the abyss.

She checked his harness, his blessed baldric securing him to his line. She clipped her harness to his line, securing the both of them as they swayed in the wind. She made sure they were inseparable.

Where the hell was his helmet? Snow peppered his dark hair.

She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, supporting him, drawing him in closer. His eyes were dazed with pain. “C’mon, Virgil, work with me here.”

Please.

He blinked and finally focussed on her, only to have the wind spin them around, snow fluttering in her face. He moaned in pain, his eyes scrunching shut.

“Virgil!”

He shuddered. And to her horror, the arm holding her slipped. She slid down as her harness took her weight.

The links snapped tight and held.

He was staring at her, his chest desperately trying to draw in breath, his left arm pulling her towards him. “K-“ His eyes shuttered.

Desperate, she pulled him to her. “Damnit, Virgil, don’t you dare do this to me.” She switched frequencies. “Thunderbird Five, I need you now.”

John’s voice was tense in her ears. “We have control of Thunderbird Two. Moving her to your location.”

Virgil was touching her helmet. “Kay?” He left red smears on the plexiglass.

“John’s got Thunderbird Two. He’s bringing her around. We’ll be down in a moment. Hang on, Virgil.”

His lips were white, his brown eyes ever so intense. His arm tightened. Voice ever so quiet. “Can never let you go.” And he smiled at her, their lazy spin above certain death ignored for an unbelievable moment. “Marry me?”

Her eyes widened…and the air was consumed by the roar of VTOL as Thunderbird Two tore around the mountain.

-o-o-o-

Kayo blinked.

TB2 came to a hover below them, edging ever so slowly up to their position. Her roar had snow shivering off the precipice above them. God, Kayo hoped they didn’t cause another avalanche.

“Kayo, I’m coming down.” Her brother’s voice in her helmet seemed to come from a distance above the roar of VTOL.

“John?”

“Get aboard Thunderbird Two, I will be there in seven point four minutes.”

John was coming down.

She turned her attention back to Virgil, but his eyes had closed, his face slackening. “Virgil?” She drew him closer and his head lolled onto her shoulder. “John’s coming, love.”

He didn’t answer.

A thin rivulet of blood dribbled from his mouth onto her uniform.

Terror welled inside her. God. “John, hurry, please hurry.”

Thunderbird Two opened her overhead hatch, the platform at its full height. Ever so slowly she edged higher until the platform was under their feet and Kayo could stand.

Virgil’s considerable weight slumped heavy into her arms.

Still TB2 rose, until their ropes were slack and she could lower Virgil to lie on the platform. She pulled her knife and, with some difficulty, sliced herself and Virgil free.

The moment the last strand separated, the platform began to descend. She separated their harnesses and she was moving, training kicking in.

First aid kit, assess the patient. Breathing, shallow and fast, pulse, fast, bleeding, oh god the bleeding. Broken white bone shone through the red. Her throat tightened, her lips drawing to a hard, tight white line as her fingers moved, wrapping and putting pressure on what she could…and what she probably shouldn’t.

When he cried out in pain, she almost strangled on her own breath. “I’m sorry, love. I-I have-”

He coughed and the whole right side of his ribcage shifted. His eyes shot open, and he was choking.

She moved as if mechanical. Get him onto his left side, open his airway, clear obstructions. He coughed blood on the deck. Oxygen. Check breathing.

It was a mantra, insulating her from what was happening. He was a patient, a victim, not the man who had, moments ago, asked her to marry him.

Retro rockets fired above her, heard through the still open overhead hatch, and John was leaping through the opening, catching himself with a wobbly stumble as he landed feet first on the decking.

“Eos, Virgil’s vitals please.” And the AI’s calm voice rattled off numbers over TB2’s speakers. None of them were good. Kayo caught her brother’s eyes, their green tense and vibrating. “Hover stretcher.”

And she was running.

Thunderbird Two’s rear thrusters fired and the ship was moving, fast.

With her brother at hand, they were able to secure Virgil and get him to the medical bay. Eos flew her lover’s ‘bird, the AI taking instruction from John as they made a dash for Auckland and its largest hospital.

John set up a fluid IV. Kayo set up a heme replacement transfusion. They gave him oxygen. They strapped what they could. He continued to breathe. Wetly.

Kayo bit her bottom lip clean through.

She left him as they entered approach to Auckland, Eos relinquishing TB2 to Kayo for landing. She thanked the AI with as few words as possible.

Exercising International Rescue special privilege, she was given immediate permission to land on the hospital grounds. As this was their closest major hospital, this wasn’t the first time Thunderbird Two had scorched their lawn.

Settling Virgil’s beloved ‘bird, she secured the craft. John was already moving, spouting off vitals, medical history as he guided Virgil’s hover stretcher to the platform. She leapt on as it began to lower.

Then there were doctors, nurses, more numbers, more medical words, and she was following a flock of personnel into the cavern of a hospital.

Until she could go no further and was left staring at the doors they’d taken Virgil through.

They swung back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…

A pair of hands gently touched her shoulders and she jumped, her breath catching in her throat.

John’s eyes, green, but so like his brother’s. She stared.

“Kayo?” His voice was soft, calm as always.

“He asked me to marry him.” The words fell from her mouth. And all her calm, all her experience in the field, everything that held her together, fell apart. She stared up at John and his kind eyes.

She was shaking.

A tentative arm wrapped around her shoulders. “He’s strong, you know that.”

She knew that. She loved that about him. She loved him so much.

She straightened her spine and swallowed. Take control.

“W-we need to see to the climbers in the cargo bay.” The three survivors of the rescue. The fourth had been swept away as Virgil had grabbed Kayo to prevent her from the same fate. She had unhooked her belay trying to reach the woman, so she had not been secure when the avalanche had hit. Which was why Virgil and grabbed her.

Which was why he was injured.

“He saved my life.”

John lowered himself to her eyeline. “He is strong, Kayo. He will be fine.”

She gently laid her hand on her brother’s chest, the feel of the smooth spacesuit almost alien. She unintentionally left red smears.

Virgil’s blood.

She started and stepped back out his reach. “I have to go and secure his – Thunderbird Two.” And she turned and left, leaving John staring after her in the hallway.

-o-o-o-

Scott hit New Zealand airspace barely after making cruising height, Tracy Two responding smoothly, though not as fast as he was used to. The cockpit was silent despite the presence of Gordon next to him. The rest of the family was just as quiet back in the main cabin.

John’s calm report had taken them by surprise. Thunderbird Two had left on a simple mission - four climbers had been stranded on a mountain in the Andes. Kayo had accompanied Virgil as Gordon had asked for the day off to see to one of his projects. The TB2 pilot had been quite happy at the prospect of spending the morning with his girlfriend instead of his brother. The smile on his face as he had flipped into his chute had been somewhat devilish. Enough to have Scott wondering whether he should have sent Alan instead.

His lips thinned. There was a possibility that he should have.

Regardless, the result was a shattered ribcage. His brother had almost been gutted by a chunk of rock while attempting to save Kayo.

Not that Scott would have acted any differently, but…he sighed, dropping his head slightly.

“Virg is one of the strongest men I know.” Gordon’s voice was quiet, but firm.

“I know.”

The description John had given him. A piece of rock had opened up his side, hooking on his ribs, shattering several of them, puncturing his lung and damaging his liver, before gouging further under his right arm. The image was stomach curdling.

“Scott, he will be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Scott.” Amber eyes caught him, fixing him in place. “I know.”

“Zulu-Kilo-Tango-Romeo-Two, you have clearance for approach.”

Scott returned his attention to the jet. There was still a landing, customs and a thirty kilometre car ride before he could see his brother.

Fingers brushed his arm. He looked at Gordon. The faith in the younger man’s eyes lifted him just enough. “He will be fine.”

Scott let the air out of his lungs, looking away. “He better be, or I will kick his ass.”

-o-o-o-

John was aware of the strange looks he was receiving, but he didn’t care. The IR logo kept everyone at a respectable distance and the hospital had kicked out the press two hours ago.

Kayo had not returned.

The roar of Thunderbird Two launching and tearing off over the hospital had been loud an hour and a half ago. Eos had reported her return to Tracy Island not long after. He had heard nothing since.

Hospital chairs were as uncomfortable as hell on a good day. After several months in space they were painful. He really should stop jumping back to Earth without acclimatization time. It hurt. In his bones. And worse, he had nothing to occupy his mind. Not even his tablet.

Stir crazy was just around the corner.

But then the Tracy clan arrived.

Scott was on him immediately, report demanded, despite the fact he had spoken to his brother not five minutes ago. “Nothing has changed. He is still in surgery.”

“Where’s Kayo?”

John frowned. “Didn’t you bring her with you?”

“What?”

“She took Thunderbird Two back to base. I assumed she would return with you.”

“She said she was going to take Thunderbird Shadow. She isn’t here?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then where the hell is she?”

“Eos?”

“Thunderbird Shadow has not left Tracy Island.”

“What?” It was a chorus of both John and Scott.

“Not according to the ship’s transponder.”

Scott shoved his face into his hand, exasperation leaking out between his fingers. “Eos, can you locate Kayo?”

“I will attempt to do so.”

“You know she won’t be found if she doesn’t want to be.” Two painfilled blue eyes stared at him. “She’s upset, she may just need some time.”

“She needs to be here.” Those eyes spat anger. “He will be asking for her.”

A hand landed on John’s arm and another landed on Scott’s. Their grandmother stepped between them. “Please don’t quarrel, boys. Kayo will do what she must. She loves your brother, you know that. She will be here when she is needed.”

Scott nodded once, but didn’t say anything further, stepping away from all of them to hover in the corner, looking a little lost for a moment before digging out his tablet and taking a seat. The tablet suffered a blistering glare.

John turned to his grandmother. She was staring at Scott, eyes glistening. “Grandma, are you okay?” Stupid question. “Did you want to sit down?” He offered her a chair.

The hand gripping his arm squeezed gently as she looked up at him. “I’m as best I can be, honey. How about you go and wash up.”

And he realised that he still had Virgil’s blood spattered all over his uniform. No wonder everyone had been staring at him. “Yes, yes, thank you, Grandma, I will do that.”

He escaped to the men’s room.

-o-o-o-

Loving Virgil Tracy made her vulnerable.

She had known it from the very beginning, but she had pushed it aside labelling it no different from loving him as a brother. Love hurt, it was the nature of the emotion.

She was wrong.

Yes, she loved her brothers more than life itself. But Virgil, he had been her brother, but now…that rock may as well have gutted her, it hurt so much. His lax face, his head on her shoulder.

His smile as he asked her to marry him, all the while bleeding away.

She closed her eyes, hiding the sight of the room she shared with him. Hiding his jeans discarded on the bed, the red flannel he so preferred, the abandoned sketchbook he had been playfully cartooning with the night before, goofy pictures of his brothers and the celebrities on the holovid they had been half-watching before becoming far too interested in each other to care.

She could smell his cologne.

She could hear his beautiful voice.

But he wasn’t here.

And it was too late. There was no going back. It was almost as if part of her had broken open, a seal no longer airtight, and she had let him into a place where she could hurt more than she had ever imagined.

And love him more than she had ever known was possible.

And he dangled his death in front of her.

Anger flared.

How dare he.

Anger was a familiar friend. It warmed and it fuelled, it protected her from pain.

It made her invincible.

She shed her blood-spattered clothing, ignoring his fingerprints, the smears. Stripped naked she walked into their ensuite and quickly showered the pain from her body.

His toothbrush stared at her.

His towel mocked her.

She threw on a spare uniform. She was International Rescue. She was stronger than this.

Grabbing his prepacked overnight bag, she turned her back on the room and stalked to her chute.

She had somewhere to be.

-o-o-o-

The world came back slowly, piece by agonising piece.

What the hell had he done this time?

White.

Snow.

Falling.

Kayo!

He started awake.

And immediately regretted it. Two hands were holding him to the bed ever so gently, but his entire right side was on fire. His brain was fog. The pain was disorienting.

He opened his eyes to find a blurry approximation of his eldest brother.

“Virg?”

His mouth opened but nothing came out. His throat was parched. There was something on his face. He fumbled to remove it.

“No, you have to keep that on. You need it.” The mask was replaced.

It was hot, cold, humid and confining. But oxygen, he needed oxygen.

“What happened?” Augh, his throat was like sandpaper, his voice muffled. What the hell did he do? A frown. “Where’s Kay?” Oh god. They had fallen. “Where is she?!” His heart stopped. An alarm screeched.

“Hey, Virgil, calm down. Kayo is fine.”

He took in a breath, his heart still thudding in his chest. “Where is she?”

His brother’s eyes shifted away a moment. “She’ll be back soon.”

“W-what aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. She’s fine, Virgil. I promise.”

Please be okay. “Okay.” He swallowed and forced himself to calm. “What about me?”

“You are going to be okay.”

Virgil frowned. Scott looked awful. The blur was clearing enough to outline grey smudges and worry. “Are you okay?”

Exasperation. “No, Virgil, I am not. Because my brother managed to fall off a mountain and gouge a hole in his side big enough to park his ‘bird in.”

“Wha-?” Virgil again tried to sit up and again was held back by his brother and the pain in his side. “What did I do?”

“Will you stop moving!”

“Stop scaring the crap out of me!”

“Then stop scaring me!”

“I don’t even know what the hell I did!” And he was panting, desperately trying to get a deep enough breath. His heart was hammering. An alarm.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” And Gordon was there. Little brother Gordon. Funny Gordon. What were those spots?

Oh, he couldn’t get enough…

“Virgil, look at me.” Soft, brown eyes, lighter versions of his own. “Slow breath. In. Out. Calm. Another. In and out. Breathe slowly and calmly. Let your body catch up.” He did as he was told. Calm. So tired. He could just drift.

So he did.

-o-o-o-

Gordon dragged his oldest brother out of the room. A nod in John’s direction and his space brother took their place inside.

“What the hell do you think you were doing? You were supposed to keep him calm!” Scott was considerably taller than Gordon, but he was slumped and looked no better than a scolded child. “Hell, Scott. I don’t get it. You know better than that.”

“I know.” He ran a hand over his face. “I…Where is she, Gordon? He needs her here. He doesn’t want to see me, He needs to see her. Where the hell is she?”

“I’m here.”

Gordon and Scott spun around. Kayo stood in the door. Immediately Scott was in her face. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Tracy Island.” And when Scott didn’t back down, she flared up. “Cleaning your brother’s blood off my hands.”

Scott took a step back.

There was too much anger in the room. “Hey, guys, c’mon.”

Kayo’s eyes turned to him. They were so cold, they burnt.

Shit, she was hurting bad. “Tin?”

She flinched, just barely, but he caught it. “How is he?”

“As well as can be expected. But not as good as he could have been if you were here when he woke.” And Scott was still angry.

She flinched again.

Gordon rounded on his brother. “What the hell is your problem?”

Scott closed off immediately. “Nothing you need concern yourself with, Gordon.”

“Well, I beg to differ because you keep taking out chunks of those around you and sooner or later its going to be one of my chunks and I want to know why I’m giving it up.”

“What?”

“Oh, for the love of…Kayo, go to him.” A wan smile, followed by a glare at his brother. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Kayo nodded once, taking a step back and slipping into Virgil’s room. An overnight bag dangled from her arm.

The moment she was gone, Gordon turned back to Scott. “Spill.”

-o-o-o-

John looked up when she entered. Her brother looked so tired, his green eyes dulled, his red hair limp. Without looking at Virgil, she walked directly up to John and placed a hand on his arm. “You look awful. Go and get yourself some rest, John.”

He smiled awkwardly. “I declare pot and kettle.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t jump off a satellite to save my brother and sister.”

“No, you fell off a cliff.”

“You win on sheer distance, John.” She leant up and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Thank you. Now go and look after yourself. I’ll take care of Virgil.”

And now she let herself look.

He was so pale, his dark hair contrasting against his skin. The mouth she had kissed this morning was hidden by an oxygen mask. The arms that had wrapped around her in love, lay limp on the sheets, one wrapped heavily in bandages.

John touched her shoulder and squeezed gently before ghosting out of the room.

Kayo sat down beside the bed.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Her voice was so quiet she hardly heard herself.

The bed was elevated. Virgil had compromised his right lung, damaged his liver, nicked a major vein, and broken most of his ribs down one side. That side was a mass of sutures. A drain was trying to keep his lungs clear of fluid. He was strung together with bailing wire, duct tape and hope. The risk of infection was a horrible number, and pneumonia a definite threat.

She reached up and pushed a stray hair out of his eyes. A small smile. He hated his hair without product in it to keep it straight. It was rare she saw it loose outside the shower. Personally, she thought he looked scruffy and cute when it was dishevelled. There had been several wrestling matches between them on the topic, her reaching to tousle it just that little and him wriggling to escape.

Because she could, she reached over and messed it just a little.

But he was too pale to be cute. The shadows too large under his eyes.

She trailed a finger down his cheek, skipping around the oxygen mask. “You are beautiful, Virgil Tracy.”

“I know.” And he was smiling. Those gorgeous brown eyes opened and found her. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She couldn’t help but smile a little back. “You’re in big trouble.”

“I figured.” His eyes tracked over her as if checking for injury. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

“Good.” His left arm moved a little unsteadily and reached for her. She leant over him, bringing herself closer and his hand touched her cheek. “Beautiful.”

Lifting up the oxygen mask, she gently kissed him. “I have to keep up with you, don’t I?”

She placed the mask back over his face and ran a hand over his forehead and temple, down to his cheek. “Please don’t do that again.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll try. But no promises.”

Her lips pressed together, the emotion threatening to overwhelm.

He caught her hand. “I’m sorry, Kay, I truly am, but if I can save you, I will. You know that.”

The man had taken bullets for her. She knew it too damned well. “Next time, I will save you.”

And there she saw it. A flicker of fear in his eyes. Her stomach clenched. “But now is not the time to discuss that.” She eyed the cardiomonitor. “Take a breath, love.”

She watched his chest rise and flinch.

She ran her fingers through his hair.

-o-o-o-

Scott stared at Gordon. ”What?”

“Now you are just getting repetitive. What the hell is going on, Scott? This isn’t you. What dog upped and peed in your cornflakes?”

“Gordon-“

“No.” And he purposefully moved into his brother’s personal space. “I want an explanation. Virgil’s not here to kick your ass, so you’ll have to put up with me.” A glare. “Spill.”

The fury in Scott’s eyes was something to behold. How the hell Virgil tamed it with so few words, Gordon had no idea. They would just have to make do.

It looked for a moment as if Scott’s hair would literally ignite. Gordon’s eyes widened. But an incomprehensible sound passed his lips and his brother’s whole body slumped and fell into a chair, his head falling into his hands, his elbows on his knees. Muffled. “Shit.”

Gordon let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding and sighed. He sat down next to his brother and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, bro, tell me.”

“I should never have sent them out there.”

“What? Why?”

“I should have sent Alan.”

He was beginning to have his suspicions. “And exactly what difference would that have made? Virgil would still have tried to save him. Kayo would still be sitting beside his bed.”

Scott head shot up. “How do you know? You’ve seen Virgil’s reaction to a threat to Kayo. Or don’t you remember the bullet wounds?”

Gordon rose slowly from his seat. “You have got to be kidding me. You honestly think Virgil would be unprofessional enough to put his relationship above the mission?!” He stared at his brother, his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, his own anger flaring. “How many times have you risked your life for Virgil? How many times has he risked his for yours? For any of us? Just because Kayo is his girlfriend-“

And Scott was standing and in his face. “He shouldn’t have to make that choice! He shouldn’t be put in that position. And neither should she.”

“What is the difference between risking Alan and risking Kayo?” It hurt either way.

“He wants her for his wife!”

Gordon froze.

“What?”

And Scott groaned throwing his head into his hands again, planting himself once again on the horrible plastic chair. “Damn.”

“H-how do you know?”

“I told him.” And John was there, eyes ever so tired. And sad. He sat down beside Scott, lay back and closed his eyes. “God, I’m tired.”

And how the hell did he know? Gordon looked between his two older brothers. Something still wasn’t adding up. “Well, I think that is great news. In fact, I think it is fantastic news. But it still doesn’t explain why big bro has all his panties in a twist.” He glared at Scott.

The glare wasn’t returned, but his brother did look up, his face pained. “Did you see Kayo when she walked in? Did you see what this is doing to her? Can you imagine what would happen to either of them if they lost the other? To Virgil? To Kayo?” He swallowed, voice quiet. “I saw what it did to Dad.”

It made sense, sure, but…”And what the hell do you think you can do to prevent it? We’ve been risking our lives for years, Scott. How is this any different?”

His brother’s eyes dropped to the floor. “It is.” A breath. “It just is.”

-o-o-o-

They housed the clan at a nearby hotel and they took turns keeping Virgil company.

It was Kayo on the second day who discovered the fever. It was low grade, but the doctors moved fast, pulling out the antibiotic big guns and filling his bloodstream with chemicals that would hopefully take out the infection before it became a major problem.

Unfortunately, due to the damage he had done, by evening he was hot, irritable and worsening.

“Kay, I’m so sorry.”

He had been saying it repeatedly for most of the afternoon. A combination of the pain, the painkillers and the fever. He made it very clear that the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her and he knew that was exactly what he was doing.

“So sorry.”

She sat holding his hot hand, her eyes on Scott on the other side of the bed. His pain mirrored her own. “I know, Virgil.”

“So sorry.” And he drifted off again, exhaustion freeing him from consciousness.

She kept her face straight, letting her anger burn beneath the surface where no one could see it, but it could keep her going.

“Kayo, why don’t you take a break. Get a drink.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

The nurses came and went. The doctors appeared like seagulls, a flock of them jabbering about the patient like he and his family weren’t even there. Scott flared up on several occasions. His commanding voice deployed to get answers.

Unfortunately, they weren’t the answers he was looking for. They were doing their best, there was a lot of foreign material in the wound, it was inevitable, they were giving him the best treatment. The answer Scott was looking for contained ‘getting better’, but Virgil continued to get worse. Pneumonia flared up.

“It was almost inevitable in this case.” Kayo stared up at the young doctor. “We will do our best, that I can guarantee.”

She looked back at her lover, his beautiful hair damp with sweat, his face gaunt, his breathing laboured and shallow. Pain was etched in every shadow on his face. Consciousness was intermittent, passing indiscriminately and rarely fully there in the first place.

He was still apologising and it hurt more each time he said it.

“Marry me?” Her heart lurched. His eyes were open, but glazed over with pain and illness. His hand twitched as if to reach for her.

She leant over and wrapped her fingers around his.

“Please, Kay. Love you.”

God.

Scott’s eyes were full of her pain. Her mouth twitched and she grabbed for control. He knew. Goddamnit, he knew. Anger flared and she cherished it. Her eyes flashed at him and she saw their impact. He flinched and looked away.

“Please, Kay.” Virgil’s voice was rough and faint. His heart struggling to oxygenate his body, beating so much faster than normal, it gave him no rest. “Please.”

“Yes, Virgil.” Her voice cracked. She looked up and Scott was gone. Her eyes closed. “I will marry you, love. I will.” She tightened her hand around his and she couldn’t hold back the tremble.

“Please, Kay.” And he was drifting off into exhausted oblivion again.

She struggled to find the anger. She needed it. She needed it.

Two arms wrapped around her and Scott was drawing her away gently. She didn’t want to go. She couldn’t.

So familiar. So much taller. So much her brother.

He kissed her hair.

She was trembling. And she was clinging.

Desperate to find the anger to sustain her.

Scott was brushing her hair with his fingers like he did when she was a little girl and she had fallen over and hurt herself.

Hell.

She screwed her eyes shut.

“Let it go, Kayo.”

“No.” Her voice was barely there.

The anger flared. She wanted to hit something. Good, it gave her strength.

He sensed it in her, and looked down, his expression as shredded as she felt. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but knew there was nothing he could say that could possibly make anything better. His mouth relaxed, but he drew her in tighter.

“Love you, little sister.”

Damned Tracy brothers were all the same.

She gently squeezed his arm, but didn’t say anything, not game to open her mouth. She took a step back and stumbled into the chair, returning to Virgil who was restless in his sleep.

She took his hand once again and simply held on.

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #kayo kyrano #scott tracy #gordon tracy #virgil/kayo #warm rain

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thewildwaffle · 6 years

Text

Abduction - Chapter 9

If you’ve been reading along, or if you have a comment of some kind, please leave feedback! and thanks to everyone who has been - it’s really helped me stay motivated. This is the longest I’ve actually stayed with a story like this, which is seriously amazing! Thanks everyone!

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

***

Loud! Oh my heck it’s so loud!

It sounded like the most annoying fire alarm ever created - and he had heard a lot of annoying fire alarms in his life. He’d even started a few.

The equipment on the walls rattled with each ship quake. “Ooooohhhhhh, we are going to die,” Mike droned.

“Those big laser beams are still getting through the shields!” Wenona had been sitting by the window in her usual spot when the Gladius arrived on this hellish mess. She’d stayed frozen to the spot since. The ship shook violently again, knocking Mike to the floor.

Oh freak, this can’t be how I go out, not after everything else I’ve been through.

“Human Mike, Human Wenona! Are you alright?” Demfar scrambled into the room, his four tentacle-like legs were spread wide to help absorb much of the ship’s tremors and shudders. “It’s the Burnti Blockade - it’s an all-out war now and we’ve shown up right in the middle of it!”

“Really, Demfar?” Mike grimaced as he was nearly knocked over by another particularly strong blast to the ship’s hull, “Really? We hadn’t noticed.”

“Human Mike, how could you not have noticed? We are very much under attack as we speak! This is not normal!”

Demfar looked up worriedly at the light panels as they started flickering. “Oh, I do hope the med bay’s generators hold up. I fear we might have a few new patients in here once this is done.”

“We’re returning fire!” Wenona yelled from the window. She was standing now, pressing her face closer to the glassy surface to get a better view. Mike could see around her as yellow bursts erupted from canons that must have been beyond their view, which shot out in rapid succession towards the looming enemy ships.

“About time,” Mike murmerred. He felt so helpless.This wasn’t something he could just punch or fight his way out of. What could he do? Nothing. Just sit by and watch while his life was on the line. We’re going to die.

“Mike! Wenona!” Mike jumped as a familiar deep voice shouted right behind him. Jebannuck ran into the room, hardly stopping as he grabbed Mike’s arms while still in motion and quickly crossed the room and reached for Wenona’s hand. “Humans, with me, NOW.”

“What? Where?” Wenona pulled her hand away but stood and took a step towards Jebannuck.

“I’ll explain on the way,” he extended his arm hurriedly as a gesture for her to follow. As he turned, he nodded to Demfar, “Orders from the captain, you’re relieved from their care.”

Demfar looked like he was about to respond, but at that moment, the main lights went completely out. After a few seconds, there was a low hum and blue emergency lights started glowing from inset panels along the walls.

“Frewan,” Jebannuck cursed and pulled the humans with him through the door. Neither one of them protested as they ran to keep up.

Mike could feel his heart beating faster and faster. His eyelids felt like they were frozen open at the widest they could go. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, but his senses felt so alert that it was hard to process everything. There was one thing he knew though. He felt certain of it. They were all going to die.

He’d felt fear before. This wasn’t that. He’d felt panic and primal rage before, when he and Wenona escaped their confines on the Montauk ship. This wasn’t those either. This was dread, as he had never experienced it before. Heavy. Final. Absolute. Everything around him felt distant and detached, like it was happening to someone else and he was just watching, doomed to whatever outcome they all ended up with.

Jebannuck was talking as they ran. He tried listening, but the words felt meaningless in his ears. There was an escape pod. Somethings about an escape pod. They’d be back later? Jeb was talking so fast, it was hard to keep up. It was all Mike could do to keep up with Jeb’s near sprint of a pace. They turned corners and rushed past corridors. They reached a wide section of the hall with door and window ports all along one wall. Mike had seen this place before, had passed it before. He’d seen crew members watching stars pass at warp speed during their lounging breaks. None of that now.

Jebannuck headed immediately to one of the small control panels next to a door panel and began punching in commands.

“Both of you, over here, now.”

Mike felt his legs moving forward, but his eyes wandered towards the window ports just off to the side. There were a lot of lights and beams flashing in various colors. A lot of ships. One ship with a red hull looked like it was heading straight at them.

A loud “woosh”-ing noise brought Mike’s attention back to the interior of the Gladius. The door next to Jeb had opened. Inside was a small room.

Oh, duh, Mike thought, Escape pod. We’re getting out of here.

The pod had four belt harnesses inside, two on each side. In the middle was a small navigation console, like the ones on the bridge, but much, much smaller. There were also what appeared to be, storage bays overhead and under the harness seats.

“Get in. Quickly. Don’t mess with the controls, I’ve set it up for you. Gamnut 4 is a habitable planet, but by no means the safest. You’ll be in one of the planet’s more temperate zones. We’ll be back to pick you up the moment it’s safe here. Don’t wander off from the pod,” He inhaled and pointed directly at Mike, “Don’t. Do. Anything. Stupid.”

Mike didn’t feel like he had the capacity to fire back with a snappy comeback. He didn’t have the time either. Jeb ushered them both into the pod and made sure they strapped in. As soon as they were secured, he bounded back out the door and entered a few more commands to the control panel.

“Human Mike, Human Wenona, please be sure that you-”

Jebannuck was interrupted. Loudly.

Whatever he was going to say was swallowed up in the loudest explosion Mike had ever heard. Glass, metal, and debris were flying everywhere. The concussive wave knocked Jebannuck, headfirst, inside the pod, throwing him onto the floor where he rolled and smacked hard into the base of the navigation console. A few broken beams flew in behind him, and hit the floor. Then they began sliding back out. In fact, a lot of dust and debris were starting to slide back. If Mike’s ears hadn’t just been bombarded by the explosion, he would have heard a loud sucking sound.

Before he could put together what the heck just happened, the doors to the pod slammed shut and sealed. Mike felt the pod blast off from the ship. He could see the Gladius out the small porthole window on the door. There was a jagged hole near where they had just shot away. It was getting harder and harder to see it as the ship grew smaller and smaller.

The pod must have been really speeding along.

Mike looked at the navigation console. He felt his hands twitch. He wanted nothing more than to reach over and take control. Too bad he was strapped in. It also didn’t help that the controls were all in standardized Juntag code. He hoped that whatever Jebannuck had entered earlier would get them where they were going, and get them there in one piece.

Jeb. Oh frewan, Jeb. He still hadn’t gotten back up. The pod jostled on its course and it looked like Jebannuck was maybe starting to stir and shake his head, but once their trajectory was stabilized, it was clear that the only movement actually from Jeb were the dark gray bruises spreading across his skin. His chest rose and fell slowly, but shallowly.

Mike scrambled and fumbled with the clips and straps that held him fastened to the harness.

“Mike, no! What are you doing?” Wenona’s voice was low and sounded more like a raspy whisper. “Stay buckled up, what if we crash?”

Mike had finally gotten a few straps loose and was nearly able to wriggle free of the remaining bindings. “If we crash, then Jeb’s gonna die. We’d all die, probably. I’ll hurry.”

Once out of the harness, Mike crouched down by Jebannuck’s side. The pod jostled again, making Mike nearly lose his balance on top of Jeb. Instead, he caught himself before completely falling over, but not before he smacked his head on the navigation console’s base. He saw white stars flash in his eyes and he muttered a few choice Earth swears. “Are you okay?” Wenona began unclipping her buckles and straps before Mike, through clenched teeth, grunted and waved for her to stop. She stopped, bit her lip, and refastened the few buckles she had managed to get loose. “Whatever you’re doing, do it quick and strap back in. We’re still in a war zone, remember.”

Mike pressed his hands hard against his forehead where he’d hit, took a deep breath and set back to work. He reached under Jebannuck’s arms and tried picking him up.

Nope. Too big. Not going to work. Dumb idea.

Mike did get Jeb up into a sitting position though, and that allowed him to grab the unconscious alien around the torso and drag him under the empty harness seat next to his own. He braced himself against his harness when the pod bucked and trembled again. Taking another deep breath, Mike tried again to lift Jebannuck off the ground and into the seat. He got him halfway and tried reaching for the loose straps against the wall. Using his shoulder, his elbow, and a few times, his head, Mike was able to prop Jebannuck up long enough to strap, clip, and buckle the comatose sefra into the harness seat. More or less.

“Mike, the controls are beeping. I can’t see what it’s about from here.”

Before he could get to the console, the pod lurched hard to the side. The lights from the ceiling panel went out. Mike flew off his feet into the wall above the last spare harness, but before he hit, something… changed.

The impact was soft. Well, it still kind of hurt, but not nearly as much as it should have. Mike’s first cognitive thoughts were that maybe the wall was made out of a spongy material. Or maybe he died and was now a ghost. That would maybe explain why he was floating.

Oh wait. This is space. Stuff floats in space usually.

“What hit us, or we hit, or whatever, it must have knocked out the artificial gravity,” Mike pushed off from the wall. He glided across the pod then he launched himself into a slow motion backflip. The lights flickered back on slowly.

“I freakin’ hate space. We’re gonna die out here. Not even on the ship. Just, out here by ourselves,” Wenona was fighting a panic in her voice. It was subtle, but Mike heard it.

He caught himself on the top of his harness and pushed himself back down to the floor.

“We’ll be okay.” He wasn’t sure about that, but what else could you say? Yeah, you’re right, we’re all going to die?

“We’ve got to be almost there by now.” He strapped himself back in, and looked at the navigation display. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what the writing was about, but one of the graphs seemed to be mapping out their trajectory. “Got to be getting close,” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

They were getting close. It didn’t take long before the feeling of gravity returned - natural gravity - from the planet. The pod shook again, though much less violently than before, as it entered the atmosphere.

What’s this planet’s name again? Gambit? Gamner? It had a number with it too. Don’t remember what that was.

He took a deep breath as he glanced out the port window again, hoping to get a look at the planet. The window was facing the wrong way and showed only the stars as they slowly faded into a teal sky.

He hoped he wouldn’t be calling this planet “home” for too long.

#abduction #chapter 9 #wenona #mike #jebannuck #gladius #ess gladius #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #aliens #space #novel #writing

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agl03 · 6 years

Note

Could you do a finale baby bomb reveal?

Hi Anon,

Well there was a rare bout of cooperation from the muse this morning:

Defying Gravity:

“Robin!” May called as loud as she dared as she worked her way through the industrial complex they had tracked Talbot too. Fitzsimmons had come up with a way to track the unique gravitational field his powers produced.

They were here to rescue Robin and Polly who had been snatched from their safe house some hours before. Guilt gnawed in the pit of May’s stomach as they wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place had they just been left in hiding. Behind her Fitz had a tablet, that in theory would warn them if Talbot was getting close.

She hadn’t wanted to bring Fitz on this mission either. She’d pressed Deke about their promise to never split up and part of it broke her heart that they were that afraid of losing each other that even a temporary separation could spell disaster for them. But the team had spread out and Fitz had a prototype for something they hoped would disrupt Talbot’s powers and knock him out until they could find a better containment option.

“Mom?” a tiny and scared voice called from the darkness and broke May from her thoughts.

She rushed forward to find Robin huddled behind some pipes.

Seeing May, the little girl wasted no time moving into her arms where May pulled her close.

May didn’t even have long enough to check the girl over or ask where her mother was before Robin let out a terrified whisper.

“He’s here.”

Not a second later Fitz yelped as he was hoisted into the air, out of May’s reach, and right in front of a floating Talbot. The tablet and containment device clattering to the floor, the warning too late.

In one fluid motion May pulled her gun out and shoved Robin behind her.

“Put him down,” she ordered.

Talbot merely gave her a soft smile and turned his full attention to Fitz.

“Hello Agent Fitz, we are so happy you could join us today,” Talbot purred.

Fitz struggled a bit in the gravity field. “What do you want?” he finally asked as Talbot came even closer, his fingers turning a liquid silver.

“No,” Fitz cried immediately understanding his intent.

Talbot shushed him in what he likely thought was a soothing manner. “We need you Agent Fitz, your knowledge of Gravitonium and tech will make us even more powerful with even more ways to harness our powers. Dr. Hall is very excited to have another mind like yours join his.”

As Talbot spoke the liquid began to spread, inching closer to the struggling engineer. May didn’t hesitate any longer, unloading her full clip at Talbot, and to her horror watched them swirl harmlessly around him before dropping to the floor without him even blinking an eye.

“Don’t try to stop me Agent May, this is a great honor for Agent Fitz,” Talbot said.

May was ready to physically attack him, she had promised Jemma before she left to watch out for him as Jemma stayed behind to care for Coulson. She had promised to bring him home. It was only a small tug on her jacket that stopped her.

May was about to chastise Robin for distracting her but the little girl shoved a picture into her hands.

May looked at the drawing and let out a small gasp. The figures were Fitzsimmons, both dressed in the clothes they currently wore. The Fitz figure holding Jemma, their rings prominent, and very clearly a baby inside Jemma’s stomach.

“Glenn stop,” May screamed again as the Gravitonium was millimeters from Fitz’s hand. Using his given name gave him enough pause for her to continue.

“Simmons is pregnant!” May shouted advancing and holding the picture up for him to see.

“Jemma’s pregnant?” Fitz gasped, tears immediately making their way down his face as he looked at the picture.

May pressed forward again. “Your a father Glenn, you know the joy that comes with that. Of watching your wife carry your child, of holding them for the first time, of watching them grow up….do not take that from him…from them”.

Talbots hand had reverted back to flesh and his head as cocked to the side as he studied the picture.

“General,” Fitz said softly finally getting their old friend to look him in the eye. “Please, we’ve lost so much, please don’t take my baby girl from me.”

Without so much as another word Talbot nodded and slowly lowered Fitz to the ground. The younger mans legs giving out as soon as the force restraining him was released.

“I’ll do you one better Agent Fitz, I’m going to save the world so she has a better world to grow up in,” Talbot said before he opened a hole in the building’s roof and flew out before either Fitz or May could try to talk him out of it.

With the threat gone Fitz couldn’t help but pull Robin into a hug, “Thank you,” was all he managed to get out before he took the picture from May to study it.

“Let’s get back to the Zephyr, we’ll need to track where he is going,” May said helping Robin put on her back back.

“He’s going there,” Robin said pointing to a globe that lay in the rubble.

Fitz tore himself away from the picture and picked it up, spinning the globe until he found the circled city. “Call ahead and we’ll get the city evacuated…though with a city of this size I don’t think we’ll be able to get everyone out before he starts digging.”

Less than an hour later they were back on the Zephyr and en route to help with evacuations. As May got Robin settled and went to check on Coulson Fitz immediately ran to the med bay.

Jemma met him halfway, tears streaming anew when she saw him. They hadn’t told her the whole story but she did know that Talbot had tried to absorb him.

She nestled herself in the crook of his neck and clutched his shirt so tight her knuckles were white. “Never leaving each others side again,” she said in a shaking voice. “And I mean it this time, never again.”

Fitz wrapped on arms around her, his own grip no less intense as he kissed the top of her head. “Never again,” he agreed.

His free hand pulling the drawing from his pocket.

“We have more reason than ever now,” He said showing her the picture.

With a start Jemma realized it was a drawing of them, in this moment. Herself wrapped in Fitz’s arms, looking at a piece of paper, a tiny baby drawn on her stomach.

“I’m pregnant,” Jemma breathed as Fitz now free hand went to caress her stomach.

“Never again,” he echoed. “I am never leaving my girls again.”

#aos spoilers #ish #fitzsimmons #fsfanfic #prompt me #ask agl03

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firemedicdiaz · 6 years

Text

1250 Follower Ficlet #4

Requested by the lovely @cura-posterior!

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Scotty X Reader. Prompt: Electrocution/Lightning Strike + “It’ll all be over soon.” Rating: Teen+. Warnings: electrocution, mentions of injury, shuttle crash. Words: 1924. Author’s Note: I decided to give writing Scotty’s accent and using Scotticism a go this time. Don’t know how well I managed, but there it is!

“Scotty!” Jim shouts from the shuttle’s steering console, glancing out the windows on either side of the cockpit. “We’ve blown our port engine!”

“What’s this we business?!” Scotty calls in return, already rushing to the port control panel to attempt a fix. “Beg pardon, Captain, but yer the one flyin’ us through the storm o’ the century!”

You grit your teeth and cling to your seat as the shuttle’s flight becomes erratic, jarring you against the restraint harness. You watch Scotty as he clings to a hand hold on the wall with one hand, doing his best to rewire things with the other. His tool kit is sliding around on the ground as Jim attempts to level out your rapid descent and he’s swearing enough to make a sailor blush.

As his kit slides away and gets snagged on the back row of seats in the shuttle, you decide that against Scotty’s orders and your own better judgment, you need to do something to help. Unstrapping your harness, you dig your fingers into your seat and pry yourself out of it again the g-force that’s pushing you down. You grit your teeth and manage to get into the aisle between two rows of seats, pulling yourself along as quickly as you can to get to where Scotty’s tool kit is hooked.

“I though’ I told ye to stay in yer seat,” Scotty barks at you as he notices you creeping toward the back of the shuttle.

You glance over at him briefly before crawling into the aisle where his tools are stranded.

“I was obeying under protest,” you explain. “Save it, Monty; you can give me a tongue lashing when we’re back on the ground. Alive.”

You don’t see Scotty rolling his eyes as you duck behind the seats to get low enough to the ground to free the tool kit, but you can imagine the face he’s making in your general direction. Groping around blindly under the seat, you finally manage to unhook the bag’s strap and tug it free. Gathering the strap in your hand, you stand up again and brace yourself against the seats in front of you as you move in Scotty’s direction to hand the bag over.

You step into the aisle and yelp as the shuttle gives a sudden lurch, pitching you forward onto the floor. You land with a grunt, your hand still clutched tightly around the strap, and elbow-drag your way over to Scotty, breathing slowly and evenly as a stitch prickles in your side.

“Are ye alright?” He asks, reaching to give you a hand up.

You take it and pull yourself onto your knees, bracing yourself against the wall as you hand over the tools.

“Fine,” you say breathlessly. “Just a little winded.”

Scotty nods.

“Since I’ve got ye now, I could use a hand,” he says.

“What do you need me to do?” You ask.

You pay attention as Scotty instructs you, nodding your understanding before reaching into the tool bag for a set of wire clippers. Bracing your feet against the row of seats beside you, you hold on tight with one hand and start clipping the wires Scotty had indicated with the other. As you do, Scotty immediately gets to work on rewiring the engine in hopes of kick-starting the auxiliary power supply.

As you position the cutters to clip through the final wire, you hear a few clicks somewhere behind the control panel and feel the hairs on your arm stand up on end. Before you can react, you clip the wire anyway and feel electricity seize your body as the engine roars to life, the power suddenly having been restored.

You hear Scotty yell something but you can’t make out what it is over the whine of the current flowing through your body. You’re in absolute agony for a few moments longer and then suddenly, as quickly as it had started, it stops. Your muscles give out completely as the current blinks out and you slump to the shuttle floor, sliding along until you hit a bank of seats, dazed.

“Y/N!” Scotty hells, bounding over and dropping to his knees beside you.

He takes your face in his hands, his expression fearful as he waits for a reaction from you.

“What happened?” Jim yells from the cockpit. “I had power back for a second and I lost it again!”

“Y/N got a nasty shock,” Scotty calls back. “I had to cut the power to free her. Yer goin’ to have to land this shuttle without that engine, Jim!”

Jim curses from the cockpit but agrees, instructing Scotty to take care of you and to hold on tight as he does his best to bring the shuttle in at a low angle.

Your entire body feels like it’s charged with static and there are pins and needles in your extremities. Groaning, you try to wiggle your fingers and toes to dispel the sensation, but for now all you can manage is to look up at Scotty as the lights in the cabin flicker when another bolt of lightning hits the shuttle.

“How’re ye doin’?” Scotty asks, settling in beside you, moving one hand to grip your hip and the other to grip a handle on the wall to hold the two of you steady.

“‘M fine,” you mumble.

“Good,” Scotty nods. “Tha’s good. Just hang in there; it’ll all be over soon.”

You nod weakly and close your eyes against the wave of nausea that’s washing over you - the last thing you want to do now is throw up all over your boss and boyfriend. Breathing slowly and evenly, you try to ignore the sounds of the storm just outside the shuttle and Jim’s constant string of curses from up front.

“This is going to get a little bumpy!” Jim warns. “Brace for impact!”

Scotty leans in over you, covering your body with his in hopes that it’ll lessen the force of the crash. The shuttle hits the ground seconds later and bounces along for a short distance. The bouncing action causes your head to smack into the floor as your neck muscles aren’t strong enough to brace it yet and you black out before the shuttle even skids to a stop.

Once he’s sure the shuttle has stopped rocking, Scotty sits up with a wince and looks down at you, immediately realizing that something is wrong. Grasping you by the shoulders, he shakes you carefully, trying to rouse you as he calls your name. After unclipping his harness, Jim stumbles back into the cabin, leaning against the wall as he looks down at the two of you.

“What happened?” He asks.

Scotty’s hands are moving frantically, searching for any traces of injury, feeling for your pulse. He sags in relief when he finds it easily, though it’s too fast and erratic for his liking.

“I think the landing knocked her out,” he explains. “We need to get her back to Enterprise.”

“No can do,” Jim says apologetically. “There’s too much interference with this storm. They can’t beam us out until it passes.”

Scotty’s expression falls even further as he frets over you, reaching up to gently stroke your cheek, watching your chest to ensure you keep breathing steadily. As the minutes go by, Jim gets busy looking through the shuttle’s on-board med kit for anything that might be useful. Short of a feather-light emergency blanket, there’s very little of use in it.

As Scotty continues trying to gently rouse you, Jim covers you with the blanket and patches up the electrical burn on your palm as best he can. It’s all he can do until he can get you back up to sick bay and so he sits back against the nearby bulkhead, watching Scotty keep vigil at your side.

As the minutes tick by, Scotty grows increasingly agitated, shifting anxiously from knee to knee, repeatedly checking on you to make sure you’re stable. When you finally start to regain consciousness he sends up a silent thank you to whatever powers in the universe have brought you back to him.

“You gave me quite a scare, love,” he murmurs. “How’re ye feelin’?”

“Wha,” you say weakly. “What happened?”

“We crashed,” Scotty explains slowly. “There’s a storm ragin’ outside. We’ve got tae weather it here; Enterprise cannae beam us aboard in this.”

“Oh,” you rasp. “Okay.”

“Are ye comfortable?” Scotty asks. “Aside from bein’ on the floor?”

You groan as you shift a little bit, having regained most of the feeling in your extremities.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Everything hurts, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Scotty says sadly. “I wish I could help, but I’m no’ sure it’s safe to give ye anything in this condition an’ we cannae get in touch with Dr. McCoy to ask.”

You nod in understanding.

“S’okay,” you assure him. “Can... Can you come lie with me?”

His expression brightens a little at the prospect of doing something to help make you more comfortable.

“O’course,” he agrees.

Shifting off of his knees, Scotty lies down on the floor and shifts in next to you. You lift the edge of the emergency blanket covering you to make room for him and scoot in even closer when he settles, pressing into his chest. He wraps an arm around you and very gently strokes your back, not wanting to apply so much pressure as to exacerbate any of your aches and pains. As he pets you, you press your forehead to his chest and inhale, the scent of his cologne filling your nose and mingling with the sharp tangs of engine grease and metal.

“Much better,” you breathe softly, feeling some of your aches melt away at his heat and touch.

As you lie in Scotty’s arms, you smile softly and let yourself relax in spite of the occasional crashes of thunder overhead and rattlings of the shuttle as the winds whip by. The thunderclaps are growing less and less frequent, but even if they weren’t you’d be content to just lie in Scotty’s arms, safe and sound. Reaching up, you splay a hand on his chest just so you can feel more of him and he instinctively holds you a little tighter in response.

“The storm’s letting up,” Jim says a few minutes later. “I’m going to head up front to try and establish communications.”

“Let me know if you need anythin’,” Scotty says.

Jim shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says with a smile. “You just take care of Y/N for me. I’ve got it.”

Scotty smiles and nods, turning his attention back to you.

“I’ve got ye,” he assures you softly. “I won’t let anythin’ happen to ye.”

“I know,” you mumble softly. “Thanks, Monty.”

He shifts to pull you into a more secure position against his chest and leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for a few moments.

“Don’t mention it,” he whispers. “I’ve got a reputation tae uphold, after all.”

You chuckle softly and poke him in the chest as the sound of raindrops hitting the shuttle’s hull dies down, suspending the two of you in welcome silence.

“No you don’t,” you tease. “You big softy.”

“Aye,” Scotty agrees. “I suppose yer right.”

As you smile once again, you can hear Jim in the cockpit, relaying your coordinates to the Enterprise. As the familiar buzz of the transporter wraps around you and Scotty, you can’t help but finally well and truly relax.

You’re going home.

@starshiphufflebadger @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @feelmyroarrrr @musingsongbird @gerardnot-gerald @ababyinatrenchcoat @the-alpha-otter @medicatemedrmccoy @wonders-of-the-multiverse @answer-the-sirens @devanshade @dolamrothianlady @startrekimagines @theonlyparadox @itsjaynebird @mccoymostly @goodnightwife @thevalesofanduin @elsa-lost-in-translation @yourtropegirl @gryffindor9whovian @auduna-druitt @archangels-lollipop @bookcaseninja @supermoonpanda @bubblegum-star-trek @sergeantangel @pinkamour1588 @webhoard @the-space-goddess-16 @starmission @captain-amelia-bradley @startled-seastar @littlecarowrites @enterprisefeels @eyeofdionysus @emmkolenn @captainsili @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @kirkaholic123 @ambie2020

#1250 follower ficlet #milestone #Star Trek AOS #Montgomery Scott #reader insert #hurt/comfort #injury

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the-jade-cross · 3 years

Text

The Lannister Wolf - Part 2 Chapter 7

All was silent in the camp that evening. Robb and Talisa were nowhere to be found, Catelyn Stark sound asleep and Evelyn seated in her tent. Calum was lying in a basket that Robb had procured for the little boy so Evelyn didn’t fear that he would roll off the bed in his sleep.

The boy was making soft cooing noise which seemed to intrigue Lady who was laying by the basket, her nose resting on the side of the basket, her eyes fixed on the sleeping baby. Zinzi was laying at Evelyn’s feet, listening to her owner’s heartbeat which she could hear through the girl’s leg.

Evelyn finished what she was stitching and held up the shirt. It was a little large for Calum, having been Jaime’s when he was probably a toddler. However, she had brought in the neck so it wouldn’t slip down Calum’s shoulders and she had tied the hems together, so it was like a baby sack. Standing up, she walked over to the basket and looked down at her sleeping son. He was about a week old now and had rounded out a bit. His face was no longer red or wrinkly but plump and full of expression.

Gently, without rousing him, she unwound his blanket and slipped the shirt onto him, buttoning up the front. Grabbing a extra strip of cloth she had taken off the bottom of the shirt, she tied it around his little round waist so that it wouldn’t be so baggy. The little boy shifted in his sleep before burying his nose into the cushion of the basket, sighing contentedly.

“Now you can fall asleep to your father’s scent,” Evelyn whispered. “I always found it soothing. It helped me sleep too….” Zinzi seemed to sense her owner’s change in mood and nuzzled her head against her neck in comfort. Evelyn smiled at the wolf, quickly wiping the growing tears from her eyes.

“I’m alright Zinzi.” Zinzi gave her a look as if not believing that statement so Evelyn smiled, “Okay…. I’m not alright now, but I will be…. one day.” Evelyn walked back to her chair and began to put away the sewing material. She wasn’t going to stay here long. She had already been in Robb’s camp for at least six months. She was going to give Calum just a few more days to strengthen before she was on her way. She had begun to train the colt Robb had given her which she had named Chance.

He was a strong young colt, probably almost a year old and big enough to ride even though he hadn’t reached his maximum size. In the short time Evelyn had him, she had managed to teach him to not make any noise unless he heard a specific whistle from her.

Evelyn paused, her hands hovering over the box of sewing materials. She heard a sound nearby…. But it wasn’t the usual sound. She looked over at Zinzi to see that the wolf had also heard it as well as Lady. Both had gotten to their feet, Lady turning to stand over the cradle in a protective manner while Zinzi planted herself between Evelyn and the doorway.

The noise disappeared…. but Evelyn was sure she heard something. She felt a strange shiver run down her spine and at first thought it was from her nerves…. then something else caught her attention.

Robb and Talisa had just returned from their secret marriage in the woods when they heard a commotion in Evelyn’s tent. Talisa parted the flap to check to see if the girl needed anything when she gasped. Robb pushed through at that sound and both stared in shock. Evelyn was standing on the other side of the room with Zinzi growling at her side. A man was lying on the floor of the room with an arrow straight through his heart…. and another man standing frozen next to a large hole in the tent that had been cut. Lady was standing over the now crying Calum, growling at the dead man who was just a foot away from the baby.

“Eve?” Robb asked.

Evelyn didn’t look at him but kept her eyes fixed on the one remaining man, another arrow loaded onto her iron bow, “This thing actually works.” She replied in a calm tone.

Robb quickly drew his sword approaching the remaining man, pinned him down, quickly tying his hands off with rope. It took him a moment, but he finally recognized the man as one of his deserters.

“What are you doing back here? And in my sister’s tent?” “We heard that there was a reward for the capture of Evelyn Stark, wife of the Kingslayer,” the man replied.

Robb’s eyes widened; Talisa gasped but Evelyn frowned.

“Cersei,” she growled. “What else did you hear?” “That was it,” The man replied before Robb yanked him to his feet. He pushed the man out of the tent and returned a moment later, finding Talisa and Evelyn draping a tarp over the dead man’s body.

Talisa scurried over to calm down the crying Calum while Evelyn turned to her brother, “Robb, I think it’s time I left.” Both Talisa and Robb froze at those words.

“WHAT!?”

Evelyn nodded, “Just like that man said, Cersei wants me dead. The best thing to keep Calum and Jaime safe is to get out of here…. There is something I need you to do for me though.” “Anything,” Robb replied, hugging his sister, “But are you sure you need to leave?” Evelyn nodded against his chest and Robb sighed, hugging her tighter, “I am going to miss you.” Evelyn smiled and wrapped her arms around him, “Nah you won’t. You’ll be too busy with your new wife.” Robb tensed at those words and Talisa’s eyes widened but Evelyn just chuckled, “I’m not that stupid! I am your sister after all!”

Robb chuckled before kissing her hair and stepping back to look at her, “What do you need me to do?”

Evelyn sighed, looking over at Calum who had fallen back to sleep thanks to Lady’s soft purring noises, “I need you to stage a death.” Robb frowned, “The death of the two deserters?” Evelyn shook her head, “No, mine.”

*******

Talisa wrapped up a package of bread and cheese into a handkerchief before holding it out to the girl. Evelyn took it and slipped it into her satchel before clipping it shut. She strapped up her larger bag which had lost some weight after she had turned some of her own clothes into things for Calum.

She turned around to see Talisa holding out a bundle of black clothes to the girl and Evelyn smiled, slowly taking the clothes from her. Silently she slipped behind the curtain in the corner of the tent and began to pull on the outfit. Black pants clung snuggly to her legs while a matching shirt brought out her now defined hips and bosom which, thankfully, hadn’t grown too much during her pregnancy.

Over her shirt she strapped a leather corset light jacket which she laced up in the front snuggly but not too tight. Over her feet she pulled up knee high brown boots which she laced up all the way and then taking a cord of leather, wound it around the boot all the way up to keep them snug to her legs. Over her shoulders and wrists, she wrapped thick leather paddings that blended rather well into the rest of her outfit before pulling on fingerless gloves. She then took the two daggers she had crafted from her two spare blocks of steel and strapped their sheaths to her legs, one on each. Lastly, she grabbed the black cloak and clipped it around her neck, keeping the hood down.

She finally emerged from behind the curtain to find Robb and her mother there as well. Robb was holding her iron bow and her quiver of blue shafted arrows, Talisa held Calum while Catelyn held a small parcel.

Silently, Evelyn approached Robb first who was closer. He held out her bow and arrows to her which she took. She strapped the quiver around her belt before slipping the bow onto her back. She then turned to see that Robb had tears appearing in his blue eyes. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged her twin tightly.

Robb buried his face in her shoulder and let the tears fall, his shoulders racking with sobs.

“I said goodbye to you once already,” Evelyn whispered, “In Winterfell.” Robb nodded, “But that was different. Now, I have no way of knowing if I’ll ever see you again.” Evelyn smiled and stepping back, kissed his forehead gently, “You will.” Without another word she stepped over to her mother who held out the parcel to her. Evelyn took it and unfolded the small handkerchief to find a small leather arm cuff with the Stark wolf etched into the brown leather.

“Thank you,” she said before hugging her mother goodbye.

Lastly, she stepped over to Talisa who gave her a hug before holding out Calum to her. Evelyn gently took her sleeping son into her arms before allowing Talisa to help her slip on the baby sling and place the baby in it, so the boy was nuzzled against her chest.

Evelyn grabbed her satchel, slinging it over her shoulder before grabbing the handle of her bag. She let out a soft whistle and the two wolves got up from their places at the fireplace. She turned back to look at her mother, brother and her sister-in-law. Finally, smiling at them, she slipped out of the tent into the darkened camp.

Robb had asked to come see her off, but Evelyn had pointed out that it might rouse suspicion and her going alone with the wolves and Calum would already be risky enough. She needed to leave without anyone knowing she was leaving. The only ones who would know the truth about her ‘death’ would be Robb, her mother and Talisa.

Evelyn silently crept directly to the back of the camp and away from the light of torches and campfires. She found where Robb had tied Chance to a nearby tree. The young horse was alert, having already gotten food and plenty of water for the night until they stopped. Robb had told her the safest thing to do was journey at least ten miles away from the camp before stopping. With a horse, it shouldn’t take but a few hours.

The horse perked up at the appearance of Evelyn and the two wolves. Zinzi and Lady both stood guard, watching the camp carefully while Evelyn tied her larger bag to the back of Chance’s saddle. In order for no one to miss Chance or the saddle, Evelyn had asked Robb to use just a simple leather pad that would go over a cushioning pad, tied down with a wide soft belt and a cloth harness instead of a one with a bit. That way they could travel quieter and they were more comfortable for Chance and easier to replace.

After tying it down, Evelyn looked down to see that Calum was still asleep, soft gurgling snores coming from his parted little lips. Smiling at her son, she bent down and planted a kiss on his soft forehead before grabbing the edge of the sling and placing over his head so that the wind created by riding Chance wouldn’t rouse him.

Grasping Chance’s saddle, she swung up gently and silently before untying Chance’s reins from the tree and gripping them in one hand. She turned the horse around so that they were facing the dark of the forest before gently calling Zinzi and Lady. The two wolves turned their backs on the camp and came to flank Chance’s side, ready to leave.

Evelyn paused, turning in her saddle slightly to look back at the camp. A strange foreboding feeling came over her…. like she was leaving something behind…. Permanently. She had the same gut feeling when she said farewell to Shae in Kings Landing….like she would never see them again.

Shaking it off, Evelyn smiled back at the camp, “I’ll miss you. Stay safe.” With that, she turned around to face the same direction as Chance before gently pressing her heels into the side of the horse’s stomach to urge him forward. Silently the three shapes, one twice as large as the other two, slunk into the dark of the forest.

Somewhere in the woods, Brienne of Tarth was leaning against a tree, silently listening to Jaime snoring quietly nearby. However, the silence was broken when the Kingslayer sat up with a start and a slight cry.

“What?” The woman asked, not surprised for it wasn’t the first time the man had woken up from a nightmare.

Jaime frowned. His dream had been so strange. He had been dreaming of the first time he met Evelyn…. In the alleyway after finding her beating up bullies…. But then it had changed. He had turned around to find himself looking at Evelyn…. Older….mounted on a horse before she smiled at him and rode away…. he had tried to follow but had woken up before he could.

“Nothing,” he whispered before turning over and laying back down. “It was just a dream.”

#got #game of thrones #jaime lannister #jaime lannister x oc

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fucking-hell-skarsgard · 7 years

Text

Paradise - Chapter One

A.N. - There is some swearing and medical issues in this chapter. In later chapters there will be smut (Or at least my attempt of it). The main character has a chronic illness, she also was in a motorbike accident. I’m telling you that there might be some emotional triggering parts in the future. (I will warn you before hand if there is). This is your warning. I hope to update every Friday. Any comments are welcome, thank you and enjoy!

September 23rd, 2016 - Toronto Pearson International Airport, Toronto, Canada.

Eva P.O.V.

~~~~~~~~~~

One of the joys of having a disability was getting to board the plane first. Some lovely person pushes you in a wheelchair all the way through the airport, onto the plane and stops by your seat. The air hostess helps pack your personal belongs away, so all you need to do is sit back and relax. Two downsides though, to board early you must get there ahead of the normal boarding time. Also when you travel with a service dog and have bad legs, it’s just easier to upgrade to first class. You and the dog get more room, it just costs you a little more. The only thing I had to worry about now was if anyone sat next to me, I was hoping to get some sleep within the next 7 hours. The flight left Toronto at 4:30 am, it would be sometime around 10 am when we land in London (Yeah I know time zones are shitty). I was hoping the sleep on the plane would be enough to help me stay awake for the rest of the day.

The hostess for this flight was Stacey, who I had flown with many times told me we’d be taking off in ten minutes. No one had sat next to me so far, so I was hoping that I’d have a free seat for the whole flight. I heard Stacey speak to someone, I also heard the number for the seat next to me. There went my dreams of being alone for this flight. I tried to read my book paying no attention to whoever was going to sit next to me. I felt my service dog Ragnar lift his head off my feet. Which was weird as he never normal reacted to strangers.

When I peeped up from my book to see who I was sitting next too, I couldn’t see his face. He was trying to get his carry on in the overhead storage. No matter if your luggage was the correct size, it never fit in the storage properly. With his hands above his head, his black t-shirt had risen slightly showing a sliver of pale skin and a light treasure trail down into his jeans. He was extremely tall. Coming from a 5 foot 10 women, let me tell you, only a select few men have the gift of towering over me.

With one final shove, he managed to get his bag in and quickly shut the hatch. I went back to my book not to make it obvious I was staring. I could see him moving around out of the corner of my eye, once he put his seatbelt on her must have looked at who he was sat next too.

“Oh, fucking hell.” he quietly exclaimed.

I looked up unsure of what was happening. I came face to face with Bill Skarsgård.

He huffed and slumped back in his seat. “This is perfect. Seven hours sitting next to you.”

I smiled at him, “So charming as always Sweetheart. What’s this all the Swedes home on the soonest flight out?

Ragnar recognised the man next to me, he sat up and started to wag his tail. He kept looking between the two of us, knowing that he couldn’t say hello unless I told him he could.

He smiled back at me and winked. “It’s a little early for your sarcasm darling. There’s a couple of months break before promo starts, so I thought I’d hide for a while. You?”

I patted Ragnar on the head and he stepped over my legs and rested his head on Bill’s knee. Bill ruffled him behind the ears, both happy to see each other even though they had spent time together yesterday.

I placed my bookmark back in my book. “Yeah, I missed my baby sisters 1st birthday. I’m stopping in London for a couple of days, so I’ll get her something there.”

“Yeah, that sucks big time. The first one is always special.”

For a moment I had forgotten that Bill had four younger siblings, the younger two were only Seven and Four.

“I’m stopping in London too for a couple of days. You know of anything good to do?”

I nodded, “Yeah there’s loads, just depends on what you like. Shopping, museums, other tourist stuff. You booked somewhere to stay?”

Bill shook his head, “I was just going to see where the wind took me.”

I sighed, “London’s not like Stockholm, even in term time it’s still busy. Most hotels will be fully booked.”

He tipped his head back, “Shit.”

I patted his leg, “Don’t worry I’ve got a spare room.”

He turned his head towards me, “You have a place in london?”

Before I could answer Stacey came round checking all the seat belts. Ragnar knowing the routine settled himself back down under my legs. I clipped his seatbelt to the back of his harness. It wasn’t really a seat belt but a lead that was looped around the leg of the chair in front. To stop him rolling if something bag happened.

“Yeah, my dad bought the apartment in Westminster when he was teaching in London. Then I used it during university. Now we use it whenever we visit and rent it out short term for people who don’t want to stay in a hotel. Don’t worry I made sure it’s empty.”

“That’s cool, thanks.”

The plane started to move to the runway. I was fine with flying, just not take off, landing and turbulence. I offered bill a candy apple sweet to suck on before placing one in my mouth. I clenched onto the armrest as the plane picked up speed. Ragnar placed his head on my feet, knowing I needed reassuring but he knew he couldn’t move during takeoff as he was anchored to the floor.

Bill looked at me, “You okay?”

“Uhh… I’m not so good with takeoff and landings.”

He smirked, “The big bad wolf is scared of planes.”

I glared at him, “Not funny.”

“Sorry.” He took my arm off the armrest, tucking the armrest up in between our seats. He threaded his fingers through mine. He placed our conjoined hands by our legs, to hide from view.

I could feel the plane start to shake more rapidly. I concentrated on keeping my breathing steady and even. Bill was rubbing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. The plane tilted back and in a matter of minutes, we were in the air. Bill held onto my hand until I had calmed down.

“Thank you. It really helped.”

He smiled at me, “No problem.”

The seatbelt sign turned off and Bill let go of me and got his headphones out of his backpack. Ragnar knowing he could move tried to sit up. I leaned forward and unclipped him. He got up and placed his front legs on my lap. I rested my head on his stroking his silky fur. I began to feel unwell. A little shaky and dizzy, a regular feeling for me.

“You ready for 7 hours of mind-crushing shit tv?”

I snorted, patted Ragnar on the head who laid back down. “I plan on sleeping, waking for breakfast then try to get some work done.”

“You’re always so organised.”

“Ha! Organised! You’re looking at a woman that has now been awake for…” I checked my watch, “about 26 hours.”

“Shit. Why?”

“We had an early start yesterday and then I had work to do in the evening. Come 10 o’clock I couldn’t switch my brain off. Then at 1 I had to head off to the airport.”

“Hardcore. Get some sleep, I’ll look after you and Ragnar.”

I leaned the chair back and pulled on my eye cover. “Thanks, Bill.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When I woke later I couldn’t work out why it was pitch black and why my pillow was breathing. I reached up to my face feeling an eye cover, that explains the darkness. I pulled it off my eyes. The breathing pillow actually turned out to be Bill. I sat up quickly embarrassed I had slept on his shoulder.

He pulled his headphones off. “Ah, sleeping beauty has awoken.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to use you as a pillow.”

“Don’t worry it’s fine. You needed the sleep.”

“How long was I out for?”

He checked his phone. “A little over three hours. The breakfast order went round a couple minutes ago. The stewardess said she knew what you liked.”

I sat up and stretched. “Perfect thanks, yeah I’ve flown with her many times. Could I leave Ragnar with you will I visit the bathroom?”

“Yeah sure.” Bill tucked his legs in.

I picked up my carryon and shuffled out, Ragnar stood to follow me. “Ragnar stay with Bill.”

He shuffled closer to Bill and sat down. I wandered down the corridor. In the bathroom I used my potions in my wash bag to freshen myself up, hoping that it would make me feel better. I don’t know if it was the lack of sleep but I still felt awful. My head was spinning round like the waltzers at the fair. I wet some paper towels to put against my forehead. I tried to take some deep breaths in but it made no difference. The last thing I remember was the sink coming closer.

When I woke up for the second time that day the first thing I saw was beautiful pale green eyes. When my brain caught up I realised they belonged to Bill.

He let out a sigh. “You frightened the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, the first one is a bit of a shock.”

“This happens often?”

I nodded. I tried to sit up and was unable to do so. Bill tucked his hands under my arms and helped me sit. He slid forward on the floor so my back rested on his chest. Only then did I realise I was laid in the galley part of the plane where the hostesses prepare the food. Ragnar was laid across my legs and Stacey was knelt beside me.

She smiled at me, “You have one smart dog there. He started acting up which I know isn’t him. Next thing I know he’s bolted over your friend and was scratching the bathroom door. I unlocked it and you were on the floor. Luckily you didn’t hurt your head. Bill lifted you out, we put you in here so you had some privacy..”

“Thank you. I’m sorry to freak you guys out.”

Stacey snorted, “Darling this ain’t my first rodeo. I’d rather have you passing out on me then deal with drunks or rich guys with wandering hands.”

That made me laugh. “Can I go back to my seat.”

“Sure thing honey. If your friend can take you and I’ll make you some sweet tea.”

Bill moved from behind me and Ragnar got off my legs. With Bill’s arms under mine, he helped pull me up. He put his arm around my waist to steady me and we walked slowly back to our seats, Ragnar following behind. Bill made sure I was seated and Ragnar was tucked in our row. Ragnar chose to lay on the floor in the middle of our seats.

Bill’s face was etched with worry. He sat and turned to face me. I placed my hand on his.

“I’m sorry for frightening you. It’s always rough the first time you deal with it on your own.”

“Is..is it because of your… Ya know.”

“My condition. Yeah. Sometimes I just get dizzy and pass out.”

Stacey came by with tea for both of us. She placed them on the tray in front of Bill. “You feeling better?”

“Yes thank you. And sorry again.”

“Oh, Evie stop it. It’s not the first time I’ve found you passed out in the bathroom. Breakfast will be about 30 minutes.”

Bill picked up one of the cups and passed it to me before picking up his own. “So Evie… has she dealt with this before?”

I blew on my tea and took a sip. “Yeah, Stacey does the Atlantic flights. I’ve traveled multiple times over the last 5 years so you get to know people. She knows all about me, she’s the first aider too so she’s taken care of me when I’ve been ill before.”

“You’re a nomad like me then. Forever traveling.”

I sighed. “It feels like it sometimes. It’s not how I imagined my life to turn out. But here I am.”

“What did you want before?”

“It doesn’t matter now. Rule number 3, never dwell on the past.”

Bill snorted, “You have rules?”

“Oh yes. I think that everybody should have rules or a code to live by. I bet you have rules.”

Bill wet his bottom lip. Oh, how I loved his firm plump lips. Especially when… Huh, excuse me.

“Yeah, I suppose so. Make sure I call mum once a week. Always try to make it home sometime during the year. Oh and always home for Christmas.”

“See. They’re no different to mine, I just put mine in order.”

“How many do you have?”

I hummed, “Ten at the moment. Some can change, somethings come and go.”

“Will you tell me them?”

“Maybe one day.”

He pouted, “You’re no fun.”

I laughed, “You and I both know that’s a load of shit.

He smiled again, “You’re right. Now drink your tea.”

We sat in content silence both drinking our teas. It wasn’t much longer before Stacey and one of her colleagues began the breakfast round. I noticed that she gave me mine before anyone else. That was another perk of flying first class, the food. When Stacey told Bill she knew what I liked, she wasn’t lying. She had made me a special breakfast; scrambled egg on toast, a small bowl of fruit and apple juice.

“So what shopping you need to do?” Bill asked taking the lid off his breakfast. In true Bill style, he had gone for the classic English Breakfast.

“Well, Harrods for mum’s biscuits and I need to pick up some things they’ve got on hold for me. There are some clothes things I need on Oxford street. Oh, and I might have to pop into work. I asked Katie to do most of the shopping, she’s an angel.

“Who’s Katie?” Bill asked with a mouthful of food.

“She’s the housekeeper, but a family friend too. I knew I didn’t have enough time to do everything, so I asked Katie to do a lot of the shopping. The last two weeks her family’s been staying there and they did things around London. She lives in north London, she pops in once or twice a week to check on stuff. Today she’d make the rooms up, make sure there’s food in the fridge. You can meet when we get there.”

“Ahh okay. Why does none else have your breakfast?” Bill asked.

“Because Stacey knows that after one of my episodes I don’t feel like eating. So she makes me a small portion. She’s my flying guardian angel.”

We didn’t really speak till breakfast was finished, I couldn’t manage everything so Bill and I shared the bowl of fruit. He picked up a strawberry. I rummaged in my purse for my pill box, I took my morning meds with the last of my apple juice.

“Will you be okay if I get some sleep?”

I nodded, “Yeah I’ll be okay. I won’t move.”

After the stewardesses had cleaned away our breakfast Bill asked for a pillow. Stacy brought him one back and another cup of tea for me. Bill tipped his chair back slightly and turned on his side so he faced me. It wasn’t long before he was asleep. Once he had relaxed you could see the stress and worries leave his face. You looked so young and peaceful.

I took my Ipad out of my handbag and glasses. I needed to get on with some of the work that I needed to do. There were some last minute things that needed to be dealt with for the Spring/Summer 2017 that was happening next week. I had to get them sorted before I left London in three days time, once I was back in Sweden there was nothing I could help them with. Once I had everything finished I could email the updates to the show’s director. I tried to work I really did but there’s one thing that I adore more than clothes, it’s the man sleeping next to me. Of course, he doesn’t know and I’d like to keep it that way for the foreseeable future.

I loved watching Bill sleep. I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed my sketch pad from my bag, I flipped to the back where most of my personal drawing were; most of them were either of Bill or Ragnar. I turned in my chair so I could get just the right light and then went to work. I can get lost drawing, time flies by quicker than watching tv or reading. The drawing wasn’t the work of Michelangelo, it was still quite rough around the edges. I nearly had it completed before he woke. While he was stirring I inconspicuously slid the pad back in my bag.

He rubbed his face and sat up, his long hair sticking up at the side. I reached forward and brushed it down. He sleepily smiled at me before stretching and stumbling down the aisle to the bathroom. I checked the clock on the tv screen, it told me there were only an hour and a half left of our flight.

Once Bill was no longer a sleeping distraction I finally managed to concentrate on my work. When Bill came back from the bathroom he spotted the book that I was currently reading on the top of my handbag.

“What’s the book about?”

I looked over my glasses at him then peeped down at my bag, “Oh it’s Christopher Nolan’s biography, it’s about his disability. It’s not a typical autobiography it’s told in the third person by a narrator. Go ahead borrow it, just don’t move the bookmark.”

I rummaged in my bag and pulled out a piece of blue ribbon. “Use this for your bookmark.”

Bill took it from me, “Thanks… Why ribbon.”

I looked up at him, “Working in fashion and wardrobe there’s always spare pieces of everything lying around. Plus it’s thin enough that it won’t damage the book or spine.”

Will Bill got stuck into the book I slid my glasses back up my nose and carried on with my work. It wasn’t long before we had to put our things away and buckle our seatbelts. I made sure Ragnar was hooked up too. During landing, Bill took hold of my hand again. Once we were down and people were started to move I just stayed seated.

Bill looked at me funny. “Aren’t we leaving?”

I checked my watch, “Yeah to get a wheelchair on they have to wait till first class is empty.”

Bill nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a wheelchair.”

“I only use it if I’m really bad or need to cover long distances. When I’m working I can sit anytime I need and there’s not much walking involved. Airports are too big for me to walk and there’s too much standing.”

Bill nodded. He stood and started to arrange both my luggage and his bag. It wasn’t long and two men came onto the plane one pushing a wheelchair. I recognised them straight away. The one with the wheelchair who was tall and ginger was Charlie. And the man behind him with dark hair and arms the size of Chris Hemsworth was Alfie. Those two normal helped me.

Charlie smiled at me,“Ready for your carriage m’lady.”

I moved from my seat and into the wheelchair. I still didn’t feel very well. I knew Stacey and told them because they normally wait in the walkway. Alife took most of the luggage leaving Bill with his backpack. I handed Ragnar’s lead to Bill.

“Could you hold him please.”

“Yeah of course.” Ragnar was more than happy to walk with Bill.

It didn’t take long to get our bags which Alife loaded onto a trolley. Customs was a breeze, neither Bill nor I had much stuff to bring home. Charlie wheeled me through the airport, Alfie was behind pushing both mine and Bill’s luggage. With Bill’s long legs he had no problem keeping up with Charlie’s quick pace, he had hold of Ragnar’s lead. I rummaged in my bag for my phone, at 10 o’clock I knew Katie would be at the apartment by now. I got my phone out of my bag and sent her a message. ‘Hey I’m bringing a friend to stay could you please get one of the spare rooms ready. Thanks, Exx’

I turned to Bill. “I just sent Katie a text, she’ll make a room up for you by the time we get there.”

Bill smiled down at me, “Thanks”

We got to the airport’s main doors where a large black chauffeur-driven car was waiting. We were thankfully undercover because in true British style, it was raining. Once Charlie had helped me into the car he checked on Alfie and the driver, both had managed to load our luggage with ease. Arthur and Charlie waved us off before heading back in with the now empty wheelchair. Bill let Ragnar in first before sliding in. Ragnar lay on the floor between the two of us. It wasn’t long before we were on the motorway heading home.

I turned to look at Bill, “So it traveling with me as terrible as you thought?”

He turned from the window and smirked, “Nah it was alright. A personal baggage handler, being rushed through customs. It makes up for having to wait till everyone’s out of first class. I think I could get used to it.”

“So what do you want to do today?”

“Could I grab a shower first, then whatever.”

“Yeah that’s cool,” I checked my watch, “It’s 11 now, it will be 12 when we get there. So maybe shower, lunch and Harrods then.”

Bill nodded and went back to looking out of the window. I checked my phone seeing I had two messages. One was from Katie tell me that Bill’s room is sorted and she had arranged lunch. The other was from my friend Leo, who ran one of my favourite bars in London. He wondered if I could perform tomorrow night as one of his girls had injured themselves at rehearsals.

“Hey, Bill.”

He hummed.

“I need to go out tomorrow night. Do you want to come with me. It’s a cocktail bar.”

He did not turn from the window. “Yeah. I’ll come, sounds good.”

I pressed my lips together so I didn’t laugh. Little did he know it would be more than ‘good’ and yes he would definitely be coming.

A.N. - Please excuse my crudeness all will be revealed in the next chapter. A cookie for whoever can guess what’s happening at the bar.

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